#this version doesn’t have the guy whining in replies!

[the-uber-goober]

Since reblogs were turned off on the original post I have decided to screenshot it to spread the word

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (viii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, mentions of hauntings and the paranormal, the passage of time, panicking,

A/N: omg guys new banner reveal. i put a flower on that man because i felt like it. personally thrilled that we have made it this far because that means it's only 2 more chapters to 10 and then we're in double digits. also unsolved drabble requests are very welcome and encouraged please ily THANKS BYE

Previous part || Series masterlist

“I don’t get it,” Bucky says, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

Inside the room, the air is thick with dust and the scent of aged metal. The walls are lined with dark wooden beams, their surfaces weathered by time, and the faint smell of oil and rust lingers in the air. 

“It’s a haunted clock tower,” you reply, walking up the stairs, floorboards creaking generously under you. 

“I got that,” he retorts, “but what the hell is it supposed to haunt? All the search results were just some kids' show.”

In the center of the room stands the massive, intricate clock mechanism, the gears and cogs slowly gathering rust as the years have passed without maintenance. Moonlight through the giant clock face casts a faint glow into the dimly lit room.

“I’m surprised you checked the internet,” you tell him, “I didn’t know you knew how to do that.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was an undercover agent for 80 years. I know how to use technology.”

“You’re also older than the concept of time, so you can see how that may confuse some people,” you reply, taking a tour around the room. “Second, I’m surprised you checked the internet.”

“You already said that.”

You stop in your tracks, hand on your chest as you say, “Yes, but you’re researching things now? For our show? That’s real sweet, babygirl.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he continues to climb up. “It was one Google search.”

“It’s one more than what you’ve done in the last 3 months,” you say, eyelashes fluttering comically at him before your demeanor returns to normal. “Anyway, there’s no like, ghost sightings here, per se–”

Bucky comes to a halt only two steps away from his door. “Then why are we here?” 

“It’s still haunted, Bucky,” you chastise. “That doesn’t always mean ghosts. Maybe it could mean orbs. Or shadow people, like from the hospital–”

“Not a thing.”

The clock creaked and groaned, the hands inching forward, their motion sluggish and uneven, as if the gears hadn't been properly oiled in years. With every tick, a loud whine echoed through the tower, vibrating the air in the otherwise silent room.

“Ooh, maybe we’ll find our doppelgangers.” Your eyes shine. “What would you do with yours?”

“Nothing.” Steve met another version of himself once and immediately beat the shit out of it, if that was anything to go by.   

“Not even a date?”

His eyebrows knit together, eyes creasing. “Why would I date my doppelganger?”

“Who’s gonna know you better than yourself? But the more important question is, would you fu–”

The noise from the clock grows more intense—a final, desperate groan before it comes to a jarring halt. 

The ticking stops abruptly, leaving an unnatural silence hanging in the air. The hands remain frozen at 9. 

Both of you are left staring at a now defunct clock. 

“Clock died ‘cause of your stupid question,” Bucky comments, voice dry. 

“Just say you don’t like modern philosophy and go.” 

“Oh I’m going alright. Two hours and all we’ve gotten footage of is stairs, trash and a washout Big Ben.”

“Don’t insult Kinley Clock Tower like that,” you scold. “You’re gonna piss it off and it’s gonna haunt us for the rest of our days.”

Bucky gives you a flat look. “By doing what.”

“Showing you the wrong time wherever you go.”

“Devastating,” Bucky responds, not sounding fazed in the slightest. “Right, so nothing haunted here?”

“Maybe it’s haunted by the failure of proper clock maintenance.”

Bucky’s eyes sweep across the largely empty room one last time. “Other than that toolbox, place’s empty. Chalk this one up to bullshit and let’s go.”

You let out a deep sigh at the thought of a wasted evening. “Fine, but that means we have to find another idea for a video.”

“Use one of the reserves.”

“We’re gonna have to, if we can’t find anything by tomorrow.”

Bucky’s heavy footsteps echo through the staircase. “That is a problem for tomorrow-you to deal with.”

You let out a scoff, following behind. “Tomorrow-us.”

“No,” he replies thoughtfully. “Pretty sure I got it right.”

Whatever. You counted tonight as a win the second you managed to get Bucky out of the compound without having to lie out of your ass. He even threw in a Google search worth of research. And he even told you the batteries on the cameras were all charged. Small steps for a regular co-host, big step for Buckykind everywhere. 

The elevator stops at his floor and he gets out, sending you a two finger wave on his way out. 

Should I walk you to your door?” you throw in at the last minute, the makings of a smile on your face. 

Bucky casts you an indignant look. “Why?”

“Chivalry, baby.” You grin, leaning against the wall of the elevator. “Didn't they literally invent it in your era?”

Bucky flips you the finger instead, not bothering to dignify you with a response. Your laughter subsides as the elevator closes on you with a ding.

Bucky sees a faint light in the hallway, and figures Steve’s slightly ajar door is its source. In between trudging back to his bedroom, he drops a quick knock on it.

“Come in,” Steve calls, voice deep from the sleepiness starting to set in. “Oh, you’re back.”

“Yeah,” Bucky replies from the doorway. “Shoot got done early.”

“Where’d you go?” he asks, laying down his book beside him. 

“Kinley Tower,” Buck stands with his arms pulled over his chest, leaning against the doorway. “Place was a dud. Nothing to see.”

“What about other things?” Steve asks, curious but still casually indirect. “How was it?” 

Bucky shrugs. “The same. Bounced right back, like nothing ever happened.” 

“You still don’t know what Nat was talking about?” 

“No,” Bucky replies, scratching the back of his neck, before hesitantly saying, “Should I be asking? I don’t know if we’re— y’know.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re friends by now, Buck.” Steve smiles briefly. “Wouldn’t hurt to check in.”

Well, Steve may be sure, but Bucky wasn’t. Then again Steve only had 1 best friend for over a hundred years until he met Sam, so how the fuck would he know. 

Still, Bucky gives a curt nod, glancing around Steve’s room for any notable changed but coming up empty handed. 

“You wanna tell me why there’s several charges on my card for tarot websites?” Steve picks up his book again, thumbing through the pages.

“Wasn’t me,” Bucky grunts. 

“Seems a bit suspect after you did an episode on witchcraft,” Steve speaks without lifting an eye from his book. “Could just be me though.”

It catches him by surprise. “You watch our episodes?”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Yes? Every last one.”

“Oh,” Bucky mumbles, finding everything else in the room infinitely more interesting all of a sudden. 

“Looks like it’s doing you some good,” Steve continues, turning back to his novel. “It’s nice to see you out and about.”

“What’s that s’pposed to mean?” Bucky gives him a look that could be seen as peeved if the blond hadn’t known him for as long has he had been alive.

Steve hides a smile. “Nothing. Left some apples on your nightstand. Eat it if you’re hungry.”

It forces Bucky to try to catch onto Steve's train of thought. Sure you hung out occasionally after work, but it wasn’t like you were hanging out on a friends basis. Bucky definitely would know if you were, because it would be a laborious task to even get him to consider leaving his bedroom. A thousand elephants would not be able to make him go do things that friends do. 

So he stares at him for another whole minute waiting for a follow up, a clarification, but Steve makes no other comment, only turning the page of his novel. 

Bucky finally leaves silently, shutting the door behind him.

Sure enough, there are apples and a fork on his nightstand. They were good too, crisp like Steve had gotten them from the market just today.  

By eleven Bucky’s already in bed, eyes straining as he watches this woodworking guy on YouTube teach him how to make a dovetailed box. For no reason. And just because he heard Sam mention offhand that he needed a place for all his keys doesn’t mean Bucky was making it for him.  

From: co-host 

how about we take a road trip down to washington to go meet my dear friend

From: co-host 

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

what friend

mr quatch himself

From: co-host  

first name ‘sas’

From: co-host

i’m talking about bigfoot

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

yeah i got it 

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

when 

From: co-host

well we’d have to start at 4am

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

fuck no

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)how about something within a 5 mile radius 

From: co-host

How about Sunday 

Bucky switches his phone all the way off and tosses it onto the bed beside him, smothering his face into the pillow. 

​​From: co-host

How about your mom

He’d deal with your nonsense tomorrow. 

And probably fill the gas tank for a trip to Washington. 

Bucky’s eyes snap open when the cold air hits his face. He keeps his window shut all the way,every single night. 

He blinks several times before his eyes adjust to the darkness of his surroundings. 

“Bucky?” a disembodied voice comes from beside him.

His head whips to the side, making him realise that one, he was standing, and two, he had no idea how long he’d been standing for. 

Only, he finds you next to him, looking disoriented like you’d just been shaken awake from a nap.

“Where the hell–” your voice trails off as you take note of where you’d landed up. 

In front of him, mechanical gears whine as they scrape against each other in a desperate attempt to move.

He peers down at his clothes; the same black t-shirt, jacket and cargo pants he distinctly remembers changed out of nearly an hour ago. 

“What the fuck,” Bucky snaps. “Did you bring us back here?”

“No,” you say, face rigid, solemn. “I swear I didn’t. I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

Bucky’s shoulders loosen. “No, I was asleep.”

The wind rustles by, and everything looks exactly the same as when you left it nearly 3 hours ago. 

“We’re back at Kinley,” he tests it, taking a step forward. “What just happened?”

“This is weird, right?” you put forth, clearing your throat. “I definitely was going to send you a text about the next video idea, and the next thing I know you’re in front of me. I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Bucky pinches the inside of his arm. The skin comes back red and stinging.

“No, it’s real,” he murmurs. “Unless this is a weird fuckin’ dream that I’m having.”

It wouldn’t be the first time you showed up in his dreams either. He just doesn’t remember any of them being so… vivid. 

“I’m in the physical realm, I can feel that,” you talk so quietly it’s like you’re speaking to yourself. “It’s not your dream. I’m here too.”

He checks his phone. 

9:05. 

Bucky opens up his messages, finding none from you tonight. His YouTube history similarly didn’t have the video he was watching earlier today.

Bucky clenches his fists and releases them, before taking a deep inhale. “Okay. We just had a strange fuckin’ flash forward into the future because of… I don’t know what. But we never left, and now we’re going home.”

“Yep.” You nod in confirmation, but the camera levitating behind you wobbles with uncertainty. “So– do we recreate what happened or…?”

“No, let's just leave,” Bucky debates, running a hand through his hair. 

You take a step towards the stairs, holding onto the bannister as you make your way down. 

Bucky holds up the flashlight of his phone as he follows, throwing another look behind him. 

“Having a shared flashforward… could say it’s soulmate shit,” you give him a quick glance, but the grin on your face is unsure, and he knows you’re trying to shake it off. 

“It’s a carbon monoxide shit.” 

“You can be carbon mine-oxide.” 

Bucky wordlessly shoves past you as he walks down the stairs, leaving you to follow with another stupid laugh. 

The car ride back brings with it some air of normalcy, so does the elevator ride. 

Bucky once again gives you a two finger wave as he gets down at his floor. 

“Offer’s still there if you want me to walk you to your room,” you call. “I may be delirious, but I’m still chivalrous.”

“Go to sleep,” Bucky carps, shaking his head, banishing the slight lift in the corner of his mouth. 

The faint light in the hallway makes him falter. 

He sticks his head in anyway. “Hey.”

“Oh, hey,” Steve smiles from his bed, book in hand. “You’re back.”

Bucky glances around the room. “Did we talk earlier today?”

“Only when you texted me for my Netflix password.” 

“Nothing after that?” Bucky hesitates from asking him outright.

“No. You okay?” Steve asks, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Just had a weird dream,” Bucky dismisses, forcing his face to relax. “See you around.”

“Left you some apples if you’re hungry,” Steve calls, as Bucky shuts the door.

He crawls back into bed, eyeing the clock suspiciously. 10:30. 

He closes his eyes, wills himself to sleep, knowing that this glitch in the matrix was only temporary and tomorrow, you’d be at his damn door, forcing him to go to Washington with you. 

Bucky’s eyes fly open when a draft of wind blows past his cheek.

“You’re fucking shitting me,” he growls, taking in the stupid tower again. 

“Well, fuck,” you exhale from beside him, in the same clothes from that evening. “I think we’re stuck in a timeloop.”

Of all the things to happen to him. Has he not suffered enough.

“Fine. Alright,” Bucky recalibrates, voice short, running a hand through his hair. “What now? How do we get out?”

“I don’t know, let me just consult with my vast experience in timeloops.”

He throws you a look so dry it would have crops withering. You don’t seem to care at all. 

“If I had to guess from the movies I’ve seen, we either gotta solve a puzzle or one of us has to reach self-actualisation and turn into a good human,” you postulate, arms on your hips as you survey the room. “We both know it’s not me, so is there anything you want to share with the class?”

If your release was contingent on Bucky working through his issues, you’d be here for a century at least.

“We keep coming back here at midnight,” Bucky elects to focus on other things, tilting his head towards the clock. “Is it because we left at 9 instead of 12?”

“Maybe,” you consider it. “We can stick around, I guess.”

It wasn’t a bad place to start. You’d have to trial-and-error your way out of this one. 

“We’ve got���” he pulls his sleeve back to look at his watch “...two hours and fifty five minutes.”

You shrug. “We can check out the rest of the tower to see if we missed anything.”

“Fine,” he relents slowly as if still weighing his options, only to come up with nothing better. 

The next level is at least a few flights of stairs below and if you thought the room with the clock in it was barren, there was nothing here for you except spiders and dust bunnies.   

“Maybe we have to clean it up,” you suggest, nose scrunching. “Maybe the tower’s super mad that everyone’s disrespecting it.”

“That's a stupid reason.”

You spin around, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Take that back. We just said maybe it doesn't like being disrespected.”

Bucky grumbles a few choice words under his breath, none of which reach your ears. 

There's nothing along the walls of the tower, nor on the ceilings. The intermediary floor and the ground floor come up empty as well. 

By the time you've confirmed that you’ve exhausted all possible leads with nothing to show for it, Bucky’s memorised the layout of the place. 

11:58.

“2 more minutes,” he tells you.

“All right,” you say, rubbing your palms together. “Experiment one. Let's go.”

Bucky keeps his eyes peeled.

11:59.

He doesn't even fucking blink, and neither do you as the seconds count down on his phone. 

12:00.��

He exhales, looking up. 

A cold wind blows past his face. 

When he hastily looks back at his phone, it reads 9pm once more. 

“Damn it,” you curse softly. 

Bucky’s growing anger resonates in a rumble in chest. “What kind of twisted shit is this?”

“It's fine,” you hold your hand up, breathing out. “I have a few more ideas.”

Bucky carelessly gestures for you to go on, and you point at the big clock.

“That thing stopped working at 9,” you hint. “We'll have to fix it. Get it working again and then we go back.”

“You know anything about fixing clocks?”

“I worked at a toy shop near a watchmaker once,” you offer. “That's gotta count for something.”

“What the hell, sure,” Bucky gives up, throwing his arms up. 

He only had experience taking apart the old leather strapped wrist watch his parents got him for his 11th birthday, and Steve’s pocket watch that he inherited from his asshole dad. He’d dismantle it carefully, methodically piece by piece, learning the insides and out of each device, so that if and when they stopped running, he'd know exactly what was wrong just by holding it up to his ear.

That didn't necessarily transfer here, but it couldn't be all that different.

Turns out it's very different and you both had to resort to watching several videos before you even began to attempt to fix it. 

He retreats the toolbox from the corner, grateful that at least you didn't have to waste a good half hour going looking for tools to fix a fuckin’ clock.

“There's no signs of life in the mechanism,” you say, reading from the phone. “So I guess we start with the most basic shit.” 

He only lets out a noise in acknowledgement, before you both spend time dusting away at gears and checking for broken parts. When nothing seems bent or misaligned, you move onto the next step. 

And that's when the fun actually starts. 

“That’s not how you oil a gear.”

“Sure it fuckin’ is,” Bucky comments, careful making sure the grease reaches every nook and cranny.

“You’re doing it wrong.” 

Bucky doesn't take his eyes off the machine, and instead raises his left hand up, clenching it into fist and releasing it, leaving the soft shifting of all the plates to prove his point. 

You scoff. “What, just ‘cause you have a metal arm you're the world’s leading expert in oiling mechanics?”

“It means I’ve got some experience in taking care of them.” 

“I’ve seen you put that thing in the dishwasher, don’t even try with me,” you warn. 

Busted. He usually got away with lying flagrantly about his arm, but apparently you pay attention to him and the fact that the Wakandan tech only required a wipedown every once and a while. 

“I do woodwork, I know how to oil things,” he switches seamlessly over to the next lie. 

The tools rarely needed any maintenance and he really didn't have to do much with them yet, considering how high quality they were. But he has an idea of what he could be doing, and that's what counts. 

You narrow your eyes at him. “How come you’ve never made anything for me?”

“I don’t like you.” 

“That’s not what I asked.”

Bucky continues squeezing oil into axles without sparing you a glance. “What do you want?”

“What can you make?”

“Boxes.”

“Make me a box then.”

“No.”

“Bitch.”

Bucky smiles to himself, turning the gears to see them move smoothly.

You dust off cobwebs from the pendulums to get it swinging again, you use your powers to stare at the crank until it rotates on its own to wind up, and to the best of your estimation, make sure the weights are raised to the right heights. 

The whole affair takes nearly 3 hours and towards the end, the both of you are hurriedly rushing through the motions, placing aside the need to argue to just get the damn thing done in time. At some point, telekinesis keeps the pendulum swinging. 

“Did you check everything?”

“Yes.”

“Everything.”

“Yes, Bucky.” you sigh. “All major pieces are working. The clock should move.”

Proof of your word, the clock starts ticking again. It goes from 9:00 to 9:05 without any hitches, and then continues on without interference. 

“Hell yeah,” you cheer and Bucky heaves a sigh of relief.

“Come on,” he urges under his breath, checking his phone again.

2 minutes to go.

“I love the passage of time,” you state unnaturally loudly. “I've never been more grateful for the passage of time.”

“Don't jinx this.”

1 more minute.

“That's not jinxing, it's good lu-”

Bucky feels a cold breeze swipe across his cheek. 

He inhales sharply. 

“Fuck.” Your stomach drops to the ground. 

In the blink of an eye, everything you'd managed to get done in the last 3 hours had gone right back to the way it had been. Dusty, unmoving and dull. 

Bucky robotically checks the time on his phone. 

9pm.

His fingers rub his temples. “What's the next plan?”

“We must have not done it right,” you reason quietly, taking a step towards it. “Something's wrong.”

“The thing was moving, I think we got it,” Bucky sighs irritatedly. 

“Well, we gotta try again,” you turn to him sharply. “You don't have to be here but I'm gonna do it.”

Bucky raises both his eyebrows at you, and you stare back with equal determination. 

“Fine,” he forgoes. “I'll look downstairs.”

It takes less time this time around. It gives you half an hour to check if it is moving again, and you watch the hands move from 9 to 9:05 to 9:20 with no problem.

Meanwhile, Bucky spends his time turning the intermediate room inside out in search for other clues. 

When he finds nothing there, he trudges back to the clock, finding you fingers crossed but confident that you'd done it.

“This is it, baby,” you say, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “We're getting out of this.”

“Here's to hoping,” he says in a tone that lets you know he isn’t convinced, watching his timer countdown from 30 seconds.

“No hoping. There's nothing to do. We're leaving,” you declare. “I've never seen a clock work more beautifully in my life.” 

Three.

Two.

One.

Bucky holds his breath. 

And a wind blows past his face.

The machine resets to the way it was. 

“All fuckin’ right,” Bucky mumbles, expiring a breath deeply. 

“It's fine,” you say, forcing a smile. “I've got a few more ideas.”

Cleaning the floors doesn't work. 

Reading up about the clock tower in  detail and honouring its legacy in an earnest ceremony doesn't work. 

Fixing it for a third time doesn't work either.

“I'm takin’ a nap,” he informs, back against the wall. “I'll deal with this shit again when I wake up.”

“How can you even think about sleeping right now?” you ask, using your powers to pull the damn clock out of the wall. It changes nothing.

“I've thought about sleeping through much worse,” he grumbles, eyes closed. 

“I'm beginning to think you have an iron deficiency.”

“Literally a supersoldier.”

“Vitamin D deficiency,” you revise. “Can you step into the sun or do you just like, start hissing and burning?”

“We’ve never gonna find out, ‘cause we’re never making it out of tonight,” he hums, eyes closed. 

You go still, clock hovering mid air. 

“You don't think we're getting out?”

“I think we're fucked,” Bucky mumbles, yawning as he makes himself as comfortable as old wooden floors would allow him to be. “Y’told me yourself, we tried all the big plans. There's no puzzle. We're trapped.”

The clock lands on the ground with a heavy thud. 

“Careful,” he warns, wondering how cozy the floor would be if he just slid down and laid there. “Wouldn't wanna break the fuckin’ thing that put us in this mess to begin with.”

“Fuck,” you breathe out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Bucky opens one eye to peer at you. “What?”

“What do you think, Bucky?��� you fire back. “We’re stuck in a timeloop for eternity because we’ve tried the most obvious options and we’re still here.”

“Could be a lot cleaner, but this ain’t the worst place to get stuck for the rest of your life,” he tempts, arms crossed behind his head, feeling a dull strain in his neck. 

“We’re gonna be stuck here forever,” you say, dawning horror in your inflection. “I’m gonna be stuck with you for the rest of eternity.”

“So much for chivalry,” he says wryly.

“We need a new plan,” you digress hectically from the other side of the room. 

“Here's one. I get some sleep, order some pizza in the next loop or two and–”

“No.”

“Fine, Thai works too. Whatever. Then we-”

“You don’t get it,” you snap abruptly. “Jesus Christ, this is literally my worst fucking nightmare. Either help or leave.”

He pries both eyes open at the sudden shift in your tone. He’s used to you snapping at him for his bullshit, and the favour was usually reciprocated, but not like this.  

Your back is turned to him, but he can tell you’re breathing heavily as you check out the new gap you've created in the wall where the clock was, before turning around and lifting the entire machine in the center of the room. 

“Hey,” he calls, voice gruff, slowly pushing himself off the floor. 

You throw him a look, continuing to move pieces of newspaper and tools and check under it. 

He watches you curse under your breath, lifting things too high and dropping them down a little too hard without flinching even once. 

“Look,” he tries again, a little louder. 

You flip the machine upside down, fully intending on taking it apart and putting it back together as if it was going to make a big difference.

“Grab the wrench. Or don't, I don't give a–”

Bucky grips your shoulder with a call of your name. It’s enough to get you to pause from sheer surprise at how close he suddenly positioned himself, considering it was a well known fact that Bucky hated people in his space. 

“Listen to me. We’re going to get out of here,” he instructs, voice much more muted than you were used to. “But you have to calm down.”

You take in a deep breath, before it leaves in a shaky exhale. Whatever you’ve got levitating gently drops onto the ground.

“You’re panicking. I would be too if I wasn’t dead inside,” he notes, hands still on your shoulder firmly. “Do whatever you need to to get it out of your system. It’ll be easier to focus after that. We'll be out of here soon enough.”

“You seem awfully sure.” Your mouth curls into a half smile, but it drops as quickly as it came up. 

“We’ll figure something out.” His shoulders rise and fall. “Got all the time in the world.”

You swallow the thickness in your throat, giving him a small nod.

“‘M sorry,” he says, eyes intense, and you know he’s talking about the nonchalance he showed earlier. “I was bein’ a prick.” 

“Honestly, you being a prick is, like, the most normal part about this.”

“...thanks.” 

“It’s fine, I could use some normal.” You brush it off with a slight smile. “You’re right. We should get some food. I’m hungry.”

“Alright,” he says, eyeing your features for a second more. “But you’re buying. Payback for making me clean up every floor twice.”

“Prick.”

His conversation with Steve from earlier that night comes back to him, the same time you take another breath to shake off the antsiness. 

Bucky lifts a eyebrow to look more natural. “You still sure it’s me who needs self-actualisation? ‘Cause it sure seems that you’ve got a whole lot to talk about.”

You half-scoff, half-laugh. “Is that your way of saying I’ve got issues?”

“Just using your words.”

You watch him for a second, like you’re thinking about saying something. He tilts his head at how contemplative you look, only for you to open your mouth and ask,

“Say, do you think emotional baggage is hot?” you wiggle your brows. “‘Cause if you do, I’ve got a whole lot of it.”

He groans out loud, neck craning as his head drops back. 

“Also,” you pose a bit more curiously, “you gonna let go of me any time soon or are we about to slow dance?”

Bucky’s hands immediately drop from your shoulder, taking a step back. “Fuck off.”

“I could, but I’d just respawn here in three hours.”

He rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but feel a bit relieved that you looked a lot less in distress. 

You'd spent two loops doing a deep dive into timeloops, coming up with more possibilities to try out.

Leaving the building at each hour did nothing. 

You spent 1 loop eating dinner and reaching out to scientists you knew on how to break out. Those who replied either said they weren't real, told you stuff you'd already figured out, or blocked you.

You even spent half a loop painstakingly combing through footage from earlier in the night to figure out if you'd fucked with anything by mistake that you were yet to correct, not noticing it so far because it had been so minor or mundane. 

“Oh shit, I just noticed something,” you gape, pointing at the screen

Bucky pulls the little monitor closer to his face. “What?”

“You’re looking at me so much in these,” you remark, voice relaxing immediately. “What's up with that?” 

“Maybe because you’re the only one talking,” Bucky fires back, irritatedly putting the camera back down, “and it’s not like there’s anything else to look at here.”

“So defensive,” you comment. “Just say you think I’m cute and move on.”

“Shut up.”

“Shut me up yourself, coward.”

To be clear, Bucky didn't realise he was looking at you that much. And now that you’ve pointed it out, he can’t really argue because he is doing it a lot more than he realised he was, even unconsciously sometimes. 

“How many more timeloops till you run out of these lines?” he questions instead.

“How many more timeloops till you stop being a handsome son of a bitch?”

The clock tower may be cold, but he feels too warm all of a sudden. 

“I swear, if this doesn’t work, I’m throwing the clock out the window,” you say, powers forcing the hands to speed through every hour and second at 2x speed. 

Bucky doesn’t even look up at you from over his phone. “You throw it, you’re fixing it again.”

You stop trying to spin the hands when one of them creaks. 

A few loops in and the growing frustration from the both of you manifests into tension that is palpable. 

You'd spent a loop or two outside the tower so you didn't drive yourself insane. Without fail, you'd end up right back up watching the clock every single time the world outside struck 12.

Bucky’s done his fair share of attempts. Jacket on, jacket off. Holding the camera, being the one who led into the room, the one who led out. 

Mainstream movies, obscure movies, video essays, podcasts. 

“I don’t fuckin’ get it. What are we missing?” you pour over the options again, frustrated. “We’ve done everything. We’ve done combinations of things.”

“There’s something we’re missing,” he says, staring at the moon through the face. “Some detail.” 

It's not like you can physically keep track of every variable. Everything resets the second it strikes 12, no matter what you changed. 

“I think–” 

He sends you a glance.

“Maybe if we–” you try before you stop altogether.  

Bucky just stays quiet because at this point you've exhausted every option you can think of, to no avail. 

He knows you don't want to say it. 

But it's time you start accepting that you're well and truly stuck. 

“Should write Maya an email,” he tells you. “Tell her we quit.”

You give him a smile, knowing it would never even make its way to her.

Still, you pull out your phone and let Bucky peek over your shoulder as you start typing, helpfully suggesting curses as you went. 

____

You absentmindedly tinker with the machine, able to take it apart, fix it and put it back together by heart and in no time now.

“What was the last mission you guys did?” you inquire, rotating a gear between your fingers. 

“Something small,” Bucky replies, voice steady. “Think it was just a recon in Detroit.”

“Do you miss it?” 

“No,” he says resolutely. “Everyone got tired of them a long time ago, but we stick around, just in case.”

You spare him a glance. “When was the last time you actually relaxed?”

Bucky considers it for a second. “Wakanda. Wasn't exactly a vacation though.” 

“New question. When was the last time you went on vacation?”

He raises an eyebrow, head twisting to look at you. 

You place the gear in its place before picking up the oil dropper. “Don’t answer if you don’t wanna.”

He turns his head back to the ceiling, and all the spider webs lining it. 

“Couple of years before I got drafted, my family took a day trip to Convey Island.” he reveals, voice low. “We were supposed to hit as many rides as we could but my sister was aboslutely fuckin’ taken by this damn steam engine they had running. Everyoe got sick of it after the second time so I stuck around with her. Must’a ridden that thing 5 times before she finally let up.” 

You have half a smile on your face. “Did you like it?”

He can't really remember. He can't even remember if the rest of his family was actually there, or whether it was just him and Steve and Becca, or it was just him and Becca.

“I liked that she liked it,” he decides.

You nod, wiping a gear before putting it back, snickering lightly.  “Was the last vacation you took really in the 1930s?” 

He exhales a laugh. “Steve and I went to the Canyon once. It was near a mission location. He told me I'd been dyin’ to go there as a kid. I don't remember that, but he fuckin’ dragged me there by the collar. Not sure if that really counts– we were both bleeding pretty heavy for it to be a real holiday.”

“Steve would say it counts.”

“Steven’s never taken a vacation in his life.” Bucky snorts. “I don't think he physically knows how to relax.”

“I don't think I've ever seen that man sit still for more than a few minutes.”

“Fuckin' rich coming from you. How many jobs have you had? A million?”

You exhale a laugh. “Something like that.”

You push the pendulum with your finger, watching it swing back and forth. 

“Where’d you stick the longest?” Bucky asks, hands supporting his head as he lies on the ground. 

You take a second to think, picking up a gear you’d already cleaned, wiping it down again.

“When I just got out of Leviathan, I used to wait tables for this elderly lady who ran a bakery. Mrs. Mullens,” you say finally. “She was kinder than anyone else I'd met till then; gave me leftovers that didn’t get sold that day, and enough money to get on my feet. I must've been there, what, a year? Year and a half? I think that’s the longest I’ve stayed.” 

“Why’d you quit?” He does his best to not sound too intrusive. 

“One evening she slipped keys into my pocket and told me I could stay in the room above the cafe if I wanted. Realised I’d been there too long, so I left the state the next morning.”

Bucky’s eye twitches as he turns to look at you. “She gave you a place to stay and you skipped town?”

“Yeah.” You half-shrug. “Staying in a place too long feels– suffocating. I don’t know. Just knew it was time to leave.”

Bucky looks at you strangely, mind inadvertently trying to piece together a bunch of information. 

Working on a hunch, he tests, “You got family out there somewhere?”

“I was literally created in a lab,” you deadpan. “I don’t have a family. Unless you count test tubes.”

“It doesn't have to be mean literally.” He arches an eyebrow. “What about Nat?”

“Nat’s a friend.” you disclose, holding a cog up to check for any stains, “The Avengers aren’t my family the same way they are for you. They’re great, but it’s just another job.”

Oh. 

“Right,” he says, settling back into his position, feeling a frown on his face.

“I haven’t really found what you’re asking me about,” you add, and he knows you're trying to be kind.

He isn't sure what he thought the team was to you. He isn't sure what he feels about the new information either.

“What’s it feel like?”

“What?” he asks distractedly. 

“Having people like that,” you clarify. “Maybe if I know what it feels like I’ll know when it happens.”

You’ve all but asked the most emotionally constipated man on earth what family feels like to him.

So reasonaly, Bucky blanks. 

Literally every single interaction with the dead and the living exits his mind. 

And so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, 

“Silent blenders.” 

And then he cringes. 

“Is that the name of a movie or…” you trail off.

“No. They got me blenders that don’t make a sound. It was a nice gift,” he mumbles. 

You wait for him to provide even a little more context. He instead shifts uncomfortably. 

“Okay,” you allow, looking back down. “Silent blenders. Got it.”

Bucky thinks about it for a second more, and his head starts throbbing.

Instead, he dodges. “Guess you’re not gonna stick around for too long then, huh?”   

“Well, yeah,” you answer, like it was the easiest thing in the world.  “I was always going to just bounce after this was done. I thought you knew that.”

“Right,” he repeats. “Where you headed next?”

“Who knows?” you mull over. “I could go anywhere. You got any reccs?”

He doesn’t really have an answer for you. Bucky can’t imagine packing up and leaving again. Living life never knowing when he can finally take a seat. He’s spent so long wrestling with the turbulence of having multiple identities that he clings to what little semblance of stability he can find.

But a tiny voice in the recess of his mind whispers to him that maybe the reason he's stayed at the same place for so long is the same reason you can’t. 

He has a half formed hypothesis. And then soon comes to the conclusion that he really has no business deriving theories about you like that… but he’d be lying if he said he didnt store it in his head for later. 

He also doesn't know why there's a strange churning in his stomach, a deeply uncomfortable feeling that he hasn't really felt in years. It makes him want to get up and leave. 

“Y’know, just ‘cause I’m gonna leave eventually doesn’t mean we’re not friends.” You snap him out of his first great attempt to understand human emotions other than annoyance. 

He hums. “I wouldn't call us that.” 

“You’re right, we’re star crossed lovers.”

“I feel bad for the next person who has to deal with you.”

You laugh, swinging the pendulum into motion and wiping your hands down. 

You’d taken turns sleeping in two of the time loops, keeping watch while the other rested for a while.

Only when you're asleep does Bucky fully comprehend how quiet it is in there. 

The clouds cover the moon. The floorboards don't make much noise even as he walks around.

He's lost track of how many 9pms it's been. 

He doesn't know why it’s lingering in his mind like this. Probably because he had only thought of her a couple of hours ago. 

He knows you suggested it as a joke but he can't help but wonder.

What if it was actually him keeping the both of you here?  

He really thought he'd made amends. He'd been living as peacefully as he was able to. And yeah, he's a dick, but he wasn't outright evil.

Or so he thought.

Maybe he hadn’t repented as hard as he’d needed to. 

“Becks,” he calls quietly. “If you can hear me– I'm sorry.”

No one responds. You don't stir. 

He forces himself to exhale and continue, “I know you'd hate what I turned into, but I'm tryin’ here. I promise.”

He wishes a damn piece of paper would give him a sign on what to do, or at least tell him there was no coming back. That he should probably resign himself to his fate. 

“You should've had someone who coulda shielded you. Given you a chance to be a kid.” He swallows down the stone in his throat. “I know you're mad, Peanut. I'm really fuckin’ sorry. You deserved a whole lot better.” 

And then he waits, and waits some more, ears straining for anything– a giggle, a scrape. He doesn't know what he expected, but he gets nothing. 

Only a draft blows through the window. 

A shiver runs through you, and you curl into yourself, but thankfully you still don't wake. Bucky has no idea how he’d explain this to you anyway. 

Still, he quietly makes his way towards you, shrugging off his jacket and draping it across you carefully, watching as you relax again.

He blows out an exhale, watching the minutes tick by. 

“Do you think we’re gonna get old here or do we reset every time the loop resets?” you ask aloud.

“Our clothes kept regenerating with us, so I guess we keep resetting too.”

You hum. “Damn, we can’t even grow old together.”

Bucky adds nothing, only turning to you with a deadpan expression.

“What?” you ask.

“What?” he counters. “No old person jokes this time?”

“There’s no fun if you're expecting it,” you sigh.

“Incredible,” he replies, monotonous. 

There’s silence. He hears wind rustle through the room. 

You sit up, and he can feel your eyes boring into him. 

“What?” he asks again.

“Does it upset you?” you ask somberly. “When I make those jokes?”

“No,” he replies. “They’re fine.”

“And when I keep using pickup lines on you– does that make you uncomfortable?” you continue, however, much to his surprise. 

He turns to you with his eyebrows lowered. “Since when does that matter?”

���It matters,” you say quietly. “I knew it annoyed you, I didn’t know they made you uncomfortable.” 

He stares at you for a long while, before settling on, “They don’t.”

“Sure?”

“I don’t care.” He looks ahead. “I’ll tell you if they do.” 

“Okay,” you relent. “If you say so.”

He shakes his head, feeling a strange sort of feeling settle in his chest. He can’t say he hates it, but he would rather not deal with it.

“Bein’ in here’s making you weird.”

You narrow your eyes. “The fuck does that mean?”

“You know what it means,” he asserts. 

“I’m being totally normal, you’ve just refused to hang out with me so you wouldn’t know what that is.”

“I see you every week.” 

“For video shoots.”

“We hang out otherwise,” he scoffs, suddenly feeling very offended. “We literally went to the store the other day.”

“To buy batteries,” you emphasize. “For the video shoots.”

“We’ve gone to the park,” he exclaims, sitting up. “And we eat lunch together sometimes. And we watched that stupid fuckin’ movie in theatres at midnight twice because you lied the second time and told me it was another one – what was it called? Metropolis?”

“Megalopolis,” you say, amused at his outburst. 

“That. Garbage fuckshit. And we’ve taken the cat–”

“Alpine.”

“I know her name,” he hisses. “To the vet. And that’s all in the last month.”

“Jeez, you keep a journal every time we hang out? What are you, obsessed with me?” you ask, trying to bite back a shit-eating grin. 

“Point is,” he grits. “We hang out.”

Fuck. Turns out, maybe Steve was right.

“Tomato, tomahto,” you dismiss. “You’re so obsessed with details. You could’ve just said you’re in love with me and moved on instead of bringing out the whole Excel sheet of every minute we spent together.”

“I hate you,” he groans, dropping back down.

You laugh. It makes the corner of his mouth curl up, just a little.  

“What’s the time?” he asks, blowing out an exhale from his nose.

“Like 11:30?,” you sigh.

“That’s all?” He wants to groan again. 

“Does it matter? We’re stuck here forever. We can get more takeout in the next loop.”

“You’re paying.”

“I paid last time, asshole.”

He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Tomato, tomahto.” 

“Touché.” 

You spin a gear in the air, waiting for the hour to pass.

It suddenly hits him. Something that you'd shown across episodes of witchcraft and haunted hospitals. 

Something you showed literally three minutes ago. 

If this worked, he’d probably hug you and your stupid, chaos incarnate self.  

“Come on, let’s get this clock fixed,” he grumbles, getting back up on his feet. 

“What?” 

“I think you’re right,” he says, sticking his arm out to help you up. 

“Huh?” you blink at him. “I know the footage is gonna get erased again, but I need you to say that into the camera once for me. And state that you’re of sound mind and body while you’re at it.”

He sends you a look. “Come on.”

“I fixed it already, Bucky.”

“What’s the time?” He ignores you.

“Nearly 12,” you tell him, checking your phone. 

“Need you to be precise.”

“Why?”

“Humour me,” he says calmly. “Details are for losers, remember?”

“11:57 and 32 seconds.”

He manually winds the big arm up, the short hand still following. Until the seconds ticker matches the time you were calling out, down to the last second.

“What are you doing?” you enquire curiously, peeking over his shoulder.

“Making it match real time,” he tells you. “Properly.”

He checkes gears and pushes pendulums and everything works like it’s brand new. You’d gotten real good at this. 

“11:59 and 43 seconds,” you call.  

Bucky closes his eyes, forcing his breath to remain steady. It’s the first time that evening he’s had more than a sliver of hope. 

“57 seconds,” you say quietly, voice tired. 

And then there's silence. 

He doesn't have the energy to open his eyes and find the machinery back to scraps. 

But eventually he does. And when he opens it again, you’re still standing there, near the machine. Not the entrance of the room. 

The clock reads 12:02.

He turns to you, calmly saying, “Let’s get out of here.”

The drive back home is silent, apprehensive with tension tight as a stretched rubber band. Like if you breathed too hard, you'd find yourself back in the dark room. 

You step in the elevator together, pressing the buttons for your floor and his. 

He doesn’t know whether it’s the fear or the fact that you've now spent several hours together when time didn’t make sense, but the ride up is slower than usual. 

Bucky stands with his back pressed to the wall of the elevator, eyes closed, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

“It never occured to me,” your voice is quiet. “It’s the one thing I didn’t think of because I was so focused on getting out.”

“Didn't think of it either.” Bucky’s shoulders shrug, eyes closed. “Not your fault.” 

“Kinda is.”

“I would've realised earlier if I paid attention,” he counters. 

You stare at him. 

“Are you done or should I keep going?”

You blow out an exhale. “This game sucks.”

“Don't play this shit with me. It's the one thing I'm good at.”

The elevator dings, creeping open on his floor.

He stays right where, back pressed against the wall, unmoving. 

“It's your floor,” you inform.

“I know.”

The door waits a few seconds before it closes.

It finally reaches your floor, opening with a bright ding. 

He watches you step out, casting an unsure look towards him.

You gesture awkwardly, “Do you need anything?”

“Nah,” he says, eyes still closed. 

“What are– oh,” you stop all of a sudden. “Is this your way of walking me to my door?”

Bucky’s face doesn’t betray any expression. “See you later.”

You fight a smile, raising two fingers to give him a wave. 

He gives you a small nod as the door closes on him, reaching forward to press the button to his floor again.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

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[tofulikesmala]

s/o with a comfort pillow (or toy)

who?: Xiao, scaramouche, Neuvillette, gorou, freminet, razor

gn

genre: fluff

Xiao

He would see you hugging it, man would get jealous. You hug it while you sleep, you hug it while you work, you jut bury your face in it once in a while. But he doesn’t understand, why are you so attached to it? Eventually, he starts to get jealous. Lying on the bed, you’re supposed to be hugging HIM not your comfort toy/ pillow >:( he would def feel tempted to rip it to shreds, but once he sees your crying face when you find it missing, he’ll sigh and give it back to you. When he asks why you were so attached to it, you explained that it has been with you since you were really young, that you have become so attached to you now you can’t let go. He looks away and huffs “foolish mortal”

Scaramouche

Well….this guy is another one who would get jealous…. and has a higher chance of actually ripping the comfort pillow/ toy than Xiao. He would enjoy teasing you about it, but as much as you hate the teasing, you still keep the pillow/toy with you. Once he hid it in secret and you panicked BIG TIME, once scaramouche had enough of your sobbing he’ll give it back, you made him promise not to do it again. (He will lmao)

Neuvillette

He would politely ask you to put it away and hug him instead LMAOOOO this time is not him teasing you, it’s you teasing him as he craves for your attention. He buries his head in your neck as he holds you, his face turning a shade of red. At least his nice, he’ll let you hug it during the day, he won’t take it from you either, but once you get into the bed with him, it’s him time >:(

Gorou

Man, he would be realllly pouty and clingy. He wouldn’t be one to take it or hide it from you, but he will be jealous

Gorou sits up a little, confirming you are asleep. He gently removes the pillow/ toy from your grasp. Suddenly, he felt you shift in your position. He stops as fear consumes him for a while. But once incoherent words come out of your mouth, he knows you’re still asleep. He gently placed the pillow/toy on his side of the bed, as he slowly pops into your arms, making you hug him instead. He shifted his tail so that you could feel the fluffiness. He sighs as he drifted off to sleep as well

Freminet

This boy is just the sweetest hejajajrbrhwhaj

anyways, after explaining what a comfort toy/pillow is, he'd def make a huggable version of pers and hug it together with you on bed >333 He's not one to get very jealous over a comfort toy/pillow, but he will. A little.

Razor

My boy is gonna be like what's that💀. After explaining, he curious, he wants to know WHY you’re so attached to it, even if you've been with it a long time. So…. You reluctantly give it to him, but how could you ever refuse those puppy eyes of his? He holds it gently, before burying his face into it. He inhales the scent as he slowly said “remind me of s/o….”

Razor was left alone in the house, you had gone out to run some errands, leaving razor to do his own things. He missed you, he softly whined as he wanted a hug :(((. Just then, he saw your comfort toy/pillow. He lay down on bed and hugged it tight, it was as if he was hugging you. Your scent filled his nose as he buries his head into it. It somehow made him sleepy, he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

“Razor I’m home!” You closed the door as you stepped into the house. However, there was no reply. It was strange….did the worst happen? Panic rose up in your heart as you entered the bedroom. But the sight only made your heart melt. You quickly changed your clothes as you lay down the bed, hugging him from behind. And so you too, drifted to sleep.

Notes: THIRD FIC LESSGOOO HAHAHA I HOPE ALL THOSE PEOPLE WHO STILL HAVE THEIR COMFORT PILLOWS OR TOYS WILL FIND HAPPINESS WITH THIS ONE

[hyewka]

STRICTLY PLATONIC [teaser] | choi beomgyu

SUMMARY. fucking your best friend was supposed to be a one time thing in the hopes of relinquishing feelings for your ex, but a one time turned into a weekly and cuddles after sex are way too intimate for your liking. but beomgyu insists that he’d never catch feelings for you, that he’s experienced in these types of arrangements. he still saw you as his best friend! it was totally only platonic for you too… right?

GENRE. smut, fluff, angst, college au, a hyewka fic with plot and structure.. sort of

TEASER WARNINGS. nothing explicit just some marking lol

AUTHOR NOTE. the dream fwb fic ive been wanting to write for ages so thank you to the ask i recently replied to as it was the main motivator for this 😭 this is going to be a long one so we're going the traditional route with a teaser, im opening a tag list so if you wish to be added send an ask or comment!

You’ve never seen Choi Beomgyu in a different light. That’s what you liked about him, that everything was so… constant. Your life could crash and burn but hey, Beomgyu was still Beomgyu— your friendship was a variable in your life that stayed undeniably the exact same.

You know, until you allowed him to fuck your brains out.

Even the sole fact that you have given the thought of Beomgyu being a ‘sex symbol’ has you quivering out of sheer horror— Beomgyu… has never been a sex symbol. Sure, he fucked around, and has a reputation and yeah sure, he was crazy hot when he isn’t showing signs of extreme sleep deprivation …but you’ve just never seen him in that light.

And to have let it simmer in your thoughts for longer than a second, makes you just a tinge hesitant in letting the silly goof pull you into the dancing crowd. You whine, “I’m tired Beomgyu! My heels are killing me.”

He either doesn’t hear over the blasting music or isn’t going to give it up because he pulls you in anyway, crashing your head right into his chest and you let out an instinctual ouch at the hard surface. Your eyes are wide looking up at him, sputtering out an unbelievable sentence. “Have you—have you been working out?”

His grin widens, holding up your arm to guide at feeling out his biceps. “Every now and then.” He doesn’t mind the minute it takes you to actually feel every muscle through his shirt, in fact he’s relishing in your sudden pique of interest in his body.

Whether he’s flexing them or not doesn’t show in his face—he looks completely relaxed and you finally admit—Beomgyu is getting toned.

“Why? You hate working out.” You could barely muffle those words with the way he had you engulfed in his arms, leaning his head in your neck, swaying side to side as if the song blasting was off of Taylor Swift’s Lover and not a Lil Wayne remix.

And he hasn’t even gotten a drop of alcohol yet.

But it’s true, Beomgyu hated the gym. Like, even more than you did. Which is a testament in and of itself.

He pulls away from the crook of your neck, a pout on his lips. “Didn’t you say your type was muscular men? At Halloween weekend?”

Halloween weekend was a year ago, the first frat party you managed to get into with the help of Beomgyu’s friend, Jake. You barely remember anything from it. Other than the occasional retells of the nights by Yunjin’s words, which are always a different version of the same story... so a not very credible source. “I mean, I guess they are. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know, just saying. Jaehyun was suuper muscly.” Okay, the random mention of your ex…maybe he had some drop of alcohol.

“Are you drunk?”

“You took too long to come back, lost at beer pong.”

“How many shots?” you interrogate.

“Two.” At your suspecting glare, he continues on, “Four…five…like, at most seven.”

Your eyes bulge out, huffing out a scoff. You guys always got wasted together! Noticing the furrow of your brows he holds you tighter whining, “I know I know, sorry, I tried telling Heeseung but he’s a savage cruel man, I was practically force fed that cup.”

You don’t doubt that he attempted to persuade Heeseung but you do doubt the force feeding, it only takes a couple nudges before getting Beomgyu to drink. “I’m just slightly tipsy, not drunk yet anyway. I pledged to never ever get trashed without you. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

You slap away the hand he puts up over his chest, incredulously, losing your control over the fits of giggles when he takes your flying hand in his, taking advantage by intertwining your fingers together. “What are you doing?” your cheeks probably hurt from all the smiling, you don’t know, you think your nerves are numb.

“Can’t a guy hold his twin flame, platonic best friend’s hand?”

Skinship was not an unfamiliar with Beomgyu—he was always a naturally clingy guy. You figured when the first ever official lunch hangout you’ve had with the boy and a few of your other friends, had included a lot of random footsie.

You didn’t even know him that well in high school. Who plays footsie with an acquaintance? Choi Beomgyu, that’s who. Yet even after some reluctance that day, you end up letting him have his childish, sort of endearing fun.

Though this was all but childish, the innocently mischievous twinkle of a scrawny teenage boy had been long gone, instead replaced by the most attractive man’s hungry, lust filled gaze. “Who told you to look so sexy today?”

The theme was Angel & Devil—to match with Beomgyu, you insisted on giving him the angel outfit, and you the costume of a devil. Matching was always the fun part of these parties. “Only today?” you drawl, making an exaggerated sultry trail with your finger on his chest.

“God, shut up, you know you’re always hot,” You don’t expect the seriousness of his tone, especially when you were just teasing, but he snakes his hand around your waist, pushing you further into his body, your tits suffocatingly pressed against his chest.

You do not expect the slight squeeze to your ass, your eyes shooting particularly wide, blood rushing up to trickle your cheeks. “But I like it when you’re a little devil, makes you so sexy and alluring.”

His face buried into your neck again, this time not missing the chance of taking a deep inhale. Beomgyu could stay like this forever, filling his lungs with you, and only you. “Still can’t believe I had my hands off you for so long little devil.” Your eyes flutter shut, taking quick breaths as he moves his soft lips to your neck, wet kisses with a slip of teeth nibbling just slightly to tease, planning on coloring you with all the pretty purple hues.

And you’re sure he was well on his way until you sober up at the abrupt change in the DJ’s track.

“Beomgyu, not—not now, we’re in public.” And surrounded by tons of people that you’re either friends with or know. That broke one of the most important pillars of your agreement—to keep the fuck buddies ‘thing’ a secret.

You don’t expect the speed of his instant pull away when processing your words, blinking his pretty lashes and the tipsiness away—his doe eyes are too much of a weakness, the little furrow of his brows something you desperately want to kiss and smoothen out. “Oh. Oh yeah. Sorry.” he scratches the back of his neck, genuinely apologetic.

And eats away at you. You know Beomgyu well—he hates keeping things secret, he’s the type of person to flaunt relationships all over his feed in that lovesick puppy way that most women could only dream of having—but you weren’t dating. And that was the boundary set.

You didn’t ask him to pull away completely though, but here you were, awkwardly as distanced as you could be in the middle of a rager with sweaty college students rubbing their bodies against each other. As gross as that was, you zero’d in on something less of a given: the fact that you’ve never felt this way with Beomgyu. Ever. It was like you were starring in the most awkward coming of age indie movie, y’know, without the crazy scenery and cinematography.

And more often than not, you find that these occurance of realisations, become more and more frequent. You feel things you’ve never felt a certain way with Beomgyu. Which only brought you to realize something else; Beomgyu was now a changing variable in your life and you’re not entirely sure how to handle that.

[so-much-for-stardust6]

Show It Then- Bam Margera

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summary: bam forgot your guys’ anniversary and you two have an argument, leading into him making it up to you.

lowercase intended

warnings: smut, arguing, & not proof read

a/n: wrote a completely different ending to this but i liked this version better 😵

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i stared at the wall of bam’s room, waiting for him to come home. today was our anniversary and he was out getting hurt with the guys instead of spending it with me. when i showed up at the front door, sobbing my eyes out i swear april wanted to smack him upside the head. i promised her i’m okay but she obviously knew it wasn’t. i’ve been sitting on his bed for the past hour and a half waiting for him to come home. my tear stained face was all dried up, my makeup runny. i hear the front door open and slam shut, followed by bam’s laugh talking. i hear april scolding him to which he replied back with “i didn’t even do anything”. i laugh at his audacity, the fact that he forgot this day. his footsteps get louder as he reaches his room, swinging the door open. he stops in his tracks once he sees me, a confused look on his face.

“y/n? why are you here?”

i just looked at him, giving him a death glare.

“have you been crying?” his face fell once he noticed my makeup.

he quickly rushed inside his room, carefully closing his door.

“no shit i’ve been crying.”

he looked puzzled, confused at my outburst.

“you forgot the most important thing is our lives, bam.”

his eyebrows furrowed as he searched through his mind to what he could’ve possibly forgot. his eyes then widen when he realizes, rushing to sit next to me and grab my hands.

“baby i’m so sorry.”

“i told you this last fucking night, bam. and you still forgot! i waited for you to pick me up, bringing out the nicest dress i own!” the tears started up again.

“i’m so sorry. i-i forgot, the guys called me this morning and-“

“i really don’t wanna hear the excuses, bam. you have no fucking clue how angry i am with you!” i stand up, running a hand through my hair angrily.

“i told you i was sorry!” he argued.

“sorry doesn’t cut it, bam! this isn’t the only time you forgot shit! maybe you forgot that too, huh?”

“i can’t spend all my time with you, y/n! i’m a busy man with a job!” he yells.

“a job?! bam, you injure yourself for other people’s entertainment!”

“a job is a fucking job, y/n! i don’t see you fucking complaining when i pay for shit!”

“pay for shit?! i had to fucking pay for our last 4 fucking dates because you blew your money on a skateboard!”

at this point we were full on arguing, pretty positive that april and phil were listening.

“yeah, for my fucking job!”

he was right up in my face, his spit flying onto my face a bit.

“maybe this isn’t working out, bam.” i whisper.

“w-what?” he stepped away from me, his demeanor changing.

“you have no fucking time for me anymore. you forget our dates and anniversary, you forget i even exist.”

“i do not. baby, you mean everything to me..” he raised his hand to touch my cheek but i move away.

his eyes flutter as he began to cry, heart aching.

“act like it then, fucking show i mean everything.” i breathe out.

he stares at me before walking to his door, locking it. he turns around to face me, placing his hands on my cheeks. he wiped my tears, peppering kisses to my cheeks. i stood there and leaned into his touch. his lips met mine softly, the kiss so tender and light.

“i’m so sorry, i’ll make it up to you..” he whispered against my lips.

i shivered as his hands reach behind my back, zipping down my dress. i wrapped my arms around his neck, finger nails clawing at his shirt. he slowly let the dress fall down my body, his mouth parting open at the sight of me wearing no bra. his hands ran across my skin, making goosebumps form. i sigh at his touch, tilting my head back. he began to kiss my neck, marking my skin. he grabbed onto my boobs, kneading them. i whine at his touch, rubbing my knees together.

“we have to be quiet, okay baby?” he whispers against my neck.

i nodded since i couldn’t form any words, my mind too set on his hands. he carefully guided us to his bed, sitting me down. he pulled my dress fully off, throwing it wherever. i would’ve been mad if i wasn’t needy for him. he pried my legs open, the cold air hitting my soaked underwear. he groaned at the sight, palming himself.

“come here.” i pant.

“no no, tonight is about you, baby..” he mumbled, looking up into my eyes.

i swear i felt my knees go weak, his blue eyes staring up at me from that angle was a sight to see. i leaned back on my elbows, watching his every movement as he pulled down my underwear. he tossed them onto my bed, claiming it was “for later”. he angled himself above me, spitting directly on me. he didn’t need to honestly, i was already wet. he used his pointer and index fingers to rub between my folds, spreading me. my eyebrows furrowed with pleasure as i sighed out. he pulled his finger back up, sucking one of them clean.

“can’t wait to taste you..”

famous last words before he duck between my thighs. i let out a loud yelp, slapping a hand onto my mouth. i felt bam chuckle, the vibrations going through my body. he licked at me, slurping up my juices like he was hungry. i squeezed my thighs together, causing him to pry them apart. i grabbed onto bam’s dark brown hair, tugging at it as a way to keep myself quiet. he moans into me, loving when i do that. i grind myself against his face, feeling his nose rub my clit.

“fuck, bam…” i cry out quietly.

it was hard to keep quiet, as bam’s mouth does wonders. i let out little sighs and pants, a few moans slipping past my lips. the sounds that filled the room were lewd, the sounds of slurping and groaning coming from bam. he pulled my closer to him, my legs wrapping around his neck as a reflex. i was practically off of the bed, only being held on by bam. i glanced down at him, making immediate eye contact. he’s been watching as i wiggle underneath him, panting his name. beads of sweat trickled down my face, ruining my makeup even more but this time for a good reason. he continues eating me out, eventually shoving his ring and middle finger inside. i let out a loud moan, not caring if anyone heard. i grind down harder onto bam, practically riding his face. i start to get a bit louder, my hand once again on my mouth to keep me quiet. my body started to feel numb, buzzing with adrenaline. i moan like crazy as i feel my release coming, my thighs squeezing shut again. bam doesn’t do anything about it, letting me squeeze him to death as i cum all over. i bite down onto my hand as i cry out, letting all my juices coat his face. i slowly ride his face to ride out the high, breathing fast as i do so. he pulls away from me, bottom half of his face and his shirt all soaked from me. he gave me a drunken smile, licking his lips.

“taste so fucking good.” he wiped his face off with his fingers, licking them after.

“so gross.” i laugh, shaking my head.

“here, let me clean you up.” he pulled back onto the bed, leaving me for a second to grab a clean towel.

he wiped me up, getting everywhere from my thighs to my ass.

“i’m sorry once again, baby. we can do something tomorrow. tomorrow is only about you, no one else.” he kisses the top of my head.

“i love you, bam.”

“love you, too.” he presses a quick kiss to my lips, tasting myself.

he grabbed some of his clothes and helped me put them on, getting comfy for our sleepover.

“i’m gonna go shower real fast.”

“i’ll be waiting.” i wink.

he blushes and walks into his bathroom, leaving me alone. i sigh as i smile brightly, thinking about how a couple hours ago i was crying about this man and now he was in between my thighs making me cry out.

[zeestarfishalien]

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Part 4: Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

The pull returns as soon as Jason steps foot outside the cemetery gates. Something in him urges him to hurry.

It doesn’t make logical sense. It’s just a dead body in an unmarked grave. That’s certainly nothing new or surprising for Gotham. Jason is not about to let it slip through the cracks but right now he has other more time-sensitive things to get done.

He slips on a comm.

“Hey O, you there?”

Her response takes less than 3 seconds. [What is it, Jaybird?]

“I’ve got an unmarked grave in a back corner of the Gotham City Cemetery. It’s at least a couple years old.” He pauses on the street corner to glance back at the cemetery gates. For just a second he thinks he spots a set of glowing green eyes but it's gone in a blink.

[And?]

Bab's question pulls Jason back out of his head.

“And I want to get a look at the body and everything so that the cops don’t conveniently miss anything.”

[You know what B is gonna ask,] she warns.

He sighs and drags a free hand down his face. “I know and I don’t have a good reason for why I was there. Just…gut feeling I guess.”

[We can keep this from him for now, at least until we go digging,] she replies.

This is why she's Jason's favorite pseudo-sibling. She's good at keeping secrets from B. He doesn't even have to ask most of the time. She just understands how much of a nosy bastard Bruce can be and more importantly, she understands that some things need to come out in their own time.

"Har har, O. You're hilarious," he deadpans back.

[Of course I am. Someone had to inherit Alfred's impeccable sense of humor.]

"Oh please, you wish." Jason snorts. "I gotta get back to business. Catch you on the flip side."

[I'll set up an algorithm to try to run through and narrow down footage from around the cemetery, but you better bring me some donuts when you next come by. The good ones from that shop near your place outside Burnley,] she orders and hangs up before Jason can respond, leaving him smiling as he removes his comm.

He has a few crime-time things to work out but then he can focus on the unmarked grave.

Things are a mess in his crew right now. Things are just not going Jason’s way today. A seller got spooked and dumped the product in the harbor. Bill’s wife went into labor prematurely, so there went one of Jason’s best henchmen. What? He’s not a monster. He did catch one of the new guys selling to kids and had to deal with that. By the time he finishes up a plenty eventful patrol, he is exhausted and pretty much just collapses in a pile of goo on his bed. Not even the insistent tug can keep him up beyond a passing thought to try to find more information later today when he wakes up.

The opening chords of Holding Out for a Hero -but not the original Bonnie Tyler version, oh no, it's the version from Shrek the musical- greets Jason's newly conscious mind. There's only one person in Jason's life with enough access and the gall to change their ringtone in his phone to this specific song.

"Dickwad, what do you want?"

[Awe, someone's grouchy. Not happy to hear from your favorite brother?] Dick's whine almost gets a chuckle out of Jason, but he'll deny that to his dying undying? breath.

"Holding Out for a Hero? Really?" Dick's cackle is a deranged sounding thing, especially over the phone. "What warranted a call this early in the afternoon? If it were for the laughs you would've done it where you could see my face when my phone rang."

[Ugh,] Dick complains, [this is why I hate being in a family of detectives.]

"So says the detective."

[Fine, fine. I just got some intel on a group trying to move a new strain of speed. It's some extra nasty stuff and they're looking at Gotham, specifically Crime Alley. I figured I'd see if you want in on it.]

"I'm busy right now, dead body."

[Oh shoot. How fresh?]

"Dunno," Jason sighs. "I found an unmarked grave, definitely old enough for the ground to have settled."

[Oh, if it's that, can't it wait? Body won't go anywhere. Better yet, tip the cops and let them get the initial legwork done,] Dick says lightly. [You can take it after that.]

The tugging in his gut protests at the thought of leaving the body in that grave to the cops, or anyone really.

"Gut says no."

[Jaybird...]

"There's something more here. I need to be the one digging it up, even if I leave it to the cops later on," Jason insists.

[How much of a risk is there of someone finding it in the meantime?] Dick has dropped into his professional voice now and it's weird how reassuring that is, Dick taking him seriously on something that seems so illogical.

"Low. It's tucked back in the far corner of the cemetery, surrounded by trees," he replies.

[Jay...you hate the cemetery. You hate going within three whole blocks of the cemetery. What were you doing there?]

"I needed to check something and that led me to the grave," Jason states vaguely. "Don't ask me how. I'm not sure I even have the words to explain it, especially not over the phone. It feels important Dickie. Logically I know it's just a long dead body, probably bones, but The Black Dog was there for a reason."

[The black dog? What black dog?]

"I think it's an actual church grim, or I guess a barghest in this case since it's a cemetery and not a graveyard.” He can practically feel Dick’s questions bubbling to the surface in the silence between them. “Just, go do some research. Look up Church Grims. I’ve got work to do, plans to dig up the cemetery.”

[Jay, I really think you should wait on this,] Dick begins softly, [take a step back to look objectively.]

“With all due respect Dickerson, shove it up your ass." Jason takes a breath to release the unreasonable annoyance. His voice drops to a soft rumble. "You didn’t see Spooky, the way they looked at me.”

[Oh no…you’ve already named it? We’re doomed!] There’s a pause before, [if you want help with the grave, I’m willing to help dig it up.]

Jason sighs softly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks Dickiebird. You take care out there. Don’t let that ass get shot, your rogues will cry.”

Dick scoffs but Jason hangs up before he can retort. Thus Jason begins his day, light pre-breakfast snack, warm-up workout, breakfast, the rest of his usual prep work for going out as Red Hood.

Jason swears, anytime he goes over with the intention to ask his information dealers about the unmarked grave, something comes up. None of the camera footage he's been sent to review so far has turned up anything. This whole week has been a bust and he's about ready to break out the shovel and go dig that grave up now. He knows it's illogical but he can barely sleep, the thought that he's missing something, that he needs to hurry hurry hurry, keeps him up and he's starting to feel like he's going insane. It's as he decides he going to return to the cemetery that his comm goes off. It's the emergency frequency, the emergency frequency specifically chosen for major Arkham breakouts. Fuck...

It takes the whole next week and a half for them to track down and re-lock up Gotham's worst offenders, even with Jason and Dick's help. Hell, Cass even flew in from Hong Kong. The chaos in the streets and destruction left in the wake of this event are taking even longer to resolve. What few hours rest Jason has been able to snag are plagued by dreams of Spooky and the unmarked grave. There's dreams of everything from the dog dissolving to someone trying to claw their way free of the grave. The latter one spooking Jason the most despite how his logic reminds him that such a thing is impossible. He and Babs have already ruled out the body being dumped recently. She checked the footage when Jason woke from the dream, of the victim being buried alive, for the first time and called her in his paranoid panic. They both understood that it was most likely the trauma, but she'd been kind enough to check just in case.

Jason wakes in a cold sweat to the sharp absence of that soul pull to the cemetery. It's very telling of how used to it he's grown that the absence of it nearly sends him into a state of panic. He's throwing on the closest clothes and nearly half-way out the door before he remembers that he should probably talk to someone. He races back for his phone and jabbing his finger at Alfred's contact before snagging his keys and throwing himself out the doors.

[Young Master Jason. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?]

"The pull is gone," Jason says with no preamble. Alfred is the only person he's gone into detail about the pull of the cemetery to. Even though he hasn't had a chance to speak with him about Spooky, Alfred will understand better than anyone. "Dickie there?"

[Yes, Young Master Richard is currently helping Young Master Damian with his animals out back. Shall I fetch him for you?]

"No, no, have him tell you about Spooky and the grave. You can call Babs in too. She's been helping me with trying to find more info." Jason checks his key chain for the keys to his main storage unit. He has a shovel there. "Also tell Dickie that I'll take him up on his offer to help me dig up a grave."

[Certainly Young Master Jason. Might we be keeping this event "on the down-low" so-to-speak as well?]

"Alfie, you're a godsend. Thank you."

SO! Good news and bad news. Bad news, I had to split this chapter so this is what you get. Good news, I've been on a massive writing spree so the next chapter is well over halfway done. This was honestly the best place to cut this chapter. I'll continue making each chapter it's own post now too, but I'll still link everything together. This chapter and most of the future chapters will probably be titled with lyrics from Momento Mori by Fish in a Birdcage bc it's insane how well that fits.

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[flydotnet]

Mundane

WHUMPTOBER 2023, DAY 20: “People don’t change people, time does.” Blanket | Found Family | “You will regret touching them.”

I originally had a whole other idea planned. In fact, I had it planned from almost day 1 of Whumptober... and then I didn't want to write it because it was for a fandom I'm not into at the moment and forcing myself to write it was too much. Combine that with semi-writer's block and you get me, panicking at 10PM I don't have an idea yet again.

This is very short as a result because, as I said, I really didn't want to write today, but I also didn't want to break such a long streak, especially on a round day count, so I bruteforced myself lol

This is, I suppose, the sweet version of "Répondez, s'il-vous-plaît" from like last week, except you also get Just Hidalgo! As a free add-on to your fancy vague-ass post-canon setting package.

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Mundane Sanctuary

Summary: It's a calm afternoon in a flat with four friends - nothing more, nothing less.

Fandom: Some post-canon Captain Tsubasa shlock, you know how it is around here

Word Count: 1K words

AO3 version available here.

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Being sick sucks ass, it’s always sucked ass, and it’ll never stop sucking ass. That’s a rule accepted by pretty much everyone, isn’t it? Whomever doesn’t get grumpy whenever it happens can try and justify their opinion, and he’ll try respecting it – it doesn’t mean it’s right.

Despite this, one of his friends has been adamant on that whole shebang not sucking ass, and honestly, JB can’t wrap his head around it.

Yet when he looks at his friend, trying to see if finally anger crosses his face, all he gets greeted with is a polite smile and slow, hoarse words.

“It’s really no big deal,” Yuzo tells him again, so it’s back to square one again.

“It should be, though, right? You can complain, you know!” JB turns his attention to the two other persons in the room. “Right, guys? I can’t be the only one to think that being sick sucks!”

“Maybe some people like whining about it less than you do, JB!” Max strikes back with a chuckle.

“That’s a little mean-spirited to say, Maxine,” Just adds.

“It’s just part of life,” Yuzo finishes as he balls up inside the blankets.

A shiver almost visibly courses through him as he does.

“You’re cold?” JB asks, all thought process about the righteous art of complaining about achy joints and stuffed noses ceasing on the spot.

“Y-yeah,” his friend stutters.

“I’m gonna fetch you another blanket then.”

He’s up as soon as he can even finish the sentence, barely seeing Max in the corner of his eyes picking up a thermometer before he’s into his bedroom and going through whatever may be in his closet. He almost never opens that thing for anything but his civilian clothes, and now, it’s biting him back in the ass: he needs to find a blanket that’s warm and sheets to put it inside on top of it.

He does manage to find it, however, and actually still in its original plastic bag – it may be unused, but it doesn’t have to be a bad thing, and at least it means it’s clean for Yuzo. That’s a very good thing if you ask him.

When he comes back, Max has her hand on Yuzo’s forehead and a frowny look on her own face.

“I’m back with a second blanket,” JB announces anyway.

“Ah, good!” She replies without looking at him.

“Is something wrong?”

“I think I’m a little warmer than before,” Yuzo chuckles, and even now, the congestion in his voice is so obvious it’s itchy to hear. “Not by much, though…”

“It’s still a rise in temperature and I don’t like that.”

JB gives his friends the second blanket, which Max proceeds to install on top of the first, mindful of the width of his trusty couch.

“I think Yuzo would know better than you if he felt off.”

She deadpans back at him.

“You’re both absolute catastrophes at admitting you don’t feel well. Remind me how we ended up in this situation, boys?”

“Ha…”

Yuzo coughs into his elbow in lieu of an answer.

“That’s what I thought,” she adds.

JB watches Maxine go back to her seat on the armchair right next to the couch – she’s the nearest to Yuzo for obvious reasons and neither JB nor Just was dumb enough to rob them of the proximity. God knows that can’t be that easy for them, with how tense in-laws can be. In a way, maybe they’re both their friends’ sanctuary (that sounds oddly deep for no real reason).

Silence ensues for a bit. It’s weird but far from uncomfortable. It feels right, in a way JB can’t quite put into words (not that he’s ever been very eloquent) – and there he is again with the thought of this being a sort of sanctuary. It doesn’t have to be an artsy-fartsy thing, after all, so why shy away from the idea?

“I’m going to brew us some tea,” Just says as he gets up from his seat, breaking the quiet. “Does anyone have specific requests?”

“I want honey in mine please!” Max immediately replies.

“Same here!”

“So honey for the four of us. I’ll see you in around ten minutes.”

He disappears from the living room and into the kitchen.

Before silence can settle once more, Max breaks it, smiling as she looks around.

“How many times have I been here… I lost count a while back.”

“Same, damn. I think at some point you were over here every single day.”

“It was handier for me to come here after class, rather than my parents’ place.”

Yuzo is silently following along, his eyes sliding from him to her and back to him while, like them, he sips on his tea.

“You still have your room back there, you know that?”

“Yeah, I do,” she laughs.

“Maxine has a room for her here?”

“Yeah, I do. Haven’t slept there for a hot minute, but it’s filled with all sorts of me things, I’m sure.”

“Can confirm, I haven’t moved a damn thing in there!”

“Does Just have one too?”

“He does, yeah, but you can’t really tell, he’s not been here as often as Max has. It almost looks more like any guest room than a friend’s, but oh well…” He shrugs. “It is what it is.”

Just’s back with tea soon enough, all neatly placed on a tray – there truly is nothing this guy can’t do without being at least a little artistic about it. He gives everyone a steaming cup, reminds them to mind the heat of the water before they start drinking, then leaves the tray on the coffee table near the couch.

“You know, this feels like having a family,” Yuzo states out of the blue.

The three others stare at each other for a brief silence.

“What makes you bring that up now?” Max asks

“I don’t know, it’s… Just a thought I had.”

“This is very humbling to hear,” Just replies, his face the softest JB has seen in quite a while.

“It’s difficult to explain,” Yuzo continues. “I’ve never had a very close relationship to my family, but when we’re together, I… think I know how people feel like when they talk about their own relatives. It’s warm.”

“That sounds about right.”

Both Max and Just agree in silence; meanwhile, JB decides sicknesses suck, but they don’t have to be that bad.

[carolmunson]

once bitten, twice shy (pbv!steve x f!thick reader)

finally, we made it. been writing this since october with breaks in between. if you're new to the pbv!steve universe (which is just an incredibly wealthy big money version of steve), i'd recommend reading 'peanut butter vibe' first.

here, steve invites his thick hottie bestie (you, who we're calling natalie because i HATE 'y/n') to his office holiday party. this fic has everything: sugardaddy!steve, casual dominance, office sex, unrequited love, some guy named rob -- anyway, enjoy. warnings/content prev: piv sex (protected), fingering/oral (f receiving), mentions of oral (m receiving) some angst/unrequited feelings, casual dominance, light spanking, office sex, sort of a 'boss' kink?? idk what to call it, rich people behavior, snide comments about thick!reader but not really about her body, some body descriptions but nothing wild, mentions of clothing sizes, lots of fluff, steve is a hot hot hottie throughout. little christmas light dividers by @newlips

“Is it fancy?” you ask, “I don’t really have anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“Is it fancy?” you ask, “I don’t really have anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“Is it fancy?” you ask, “I don’t really have anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I’ll take you to get something tomorrow,” he insists.

“I can buy my own dress, Steve,” you sigh, he can hear the eye roll through the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, everyone in Indiana knows you can buy your own dress, Manhattan, we get it,” Steve’s eye roll is even more audible than yours, “But you only have to get one because I’m asking you to come to this party. Let me get it for you.”

“Steve,” you scold, “No.”

“I have to finish shopping anyway — don’t you still have to finish getting gifts for your niece? We can go to the mall, two birds one stone!” he quickly adds. He hopes the thought of your niece’s tiny toes in some new little socks or a cute little outfit will soften you up.

“The mall is going to be a mess, Steve. It’s the weekend before Christmas,” you complain.

“We can go to a boutique or something,” he counters, determined to get you in a dress so you had no reason not to go to this party.

“Boutiques in Indiana aren’t making dresses for girls like me, Harrington,” you laugh, he doesn’t. He’s quiet for a moment until you hear his signature aggravated sigh come through the ear piece.

“You can just say you don’t wanna come,” his voice sounds slightly sullen, “Just wanted to show you the office, since you won’t get a chance to see it after I move.”

“It’s not that I don’t wanna come, Steve,” you say softly, “It’s just..it’s what it implies.”

“It doesn’t have to imply anything! Can’t you just come have fun with me? It’ll be so fun, I promise!” there’s a mild whine to his claim and you have to stifle a laugh.

Breaking News in Indiana: Poor little rich boy wants his big booty Barbie to play with at a party — throws minor tantrum when he might not get what he wants! "Fine, fine, Jesus Christ," you tease, "You're so annoying when you get whiny."

"So I'll pick you up in the morning? Is nine okay?" he asks, voice back to his regular charm. "Yeah, that's fine," you start, "Wait, we're not taking the Porsche to the mall, are we?" "Uh, yeah?" he replies, confused, "Did you want me to take a different car?" "Ugh, Steve that's so tooly," you moan, "You're such a tool."

"I'm about to uninvite you," he huffs, "Do you want me to buy you something pretty tomorrow or--" "I can buy my own dress," you yell over him. He lets out another aggravated sigh. "Tomorrow, nine, in the Porsche," he says finally, you hear the click of the dial tone as soon as he finishes speaking.

The Porsche rolls up at 8:58 and he knows better than to honk the horn, lest he wake your sister's newborn. Instead, he parks and walks up to the porch of your sister's house; knocking on the door and waiting for you with his hands clasped behind his back. When the door opens, he's surprised to see your mom behind it. She smiles, big and warm. She looks familiar, definitely a face in the stands at basketball games because your older sister Carly was a cheerleader. She was a senior when you were both freshman, before Steve was King Steve. "Oh, hi. You must be Steven," she whispers, when the door opens further he spots your little niece propped up high on your mom's chest, "I'm Maureen. Come in, come in. S'way too cold to be standing out here." "Thanks, thank you," he smiles, the kind of smile that makes mom's melt. Steve takes a step inside and your mom steps back, patting the baby's back to burp her. He wipes his shoes on the welcome mat and undoes the buttons on his Hugo Boss wool coat. His cashmere scarf hung loosely over his shoulders down his chest. "I've heard so much about you. Nat should be out in a second," heat blooming in her cheeks, "Make yourself comfortable." Maureen disappears into the kitchen but he can hear the gurgles of your niece and your mom's little titters to her. He leans on the back of the couch, the house smells like you and his heart swells. So this is what it looks like when you go inside after he drops you off. This is where you go when you're not with him. It feels like a secret he's not supposed to know. "Oh, hi, you're in my house," his eyes snap up when he hears your voice. His teeth shine through his smile, he waves with a leather gloved hand. "Good morning," he says, his voice is low and warm. Your heartrate speeds up when he says it. It's awkward when you walk up to him, unsure if you should hug or kiss on the cheek. It's normally never awkward, but you're always meeting at the bar or in his car. He's never been so...available at the first greeting. You don't want to kiss in front of your mom because then she'll have questions. She already asks too many about Steve to begin with. He scans you, your white sweater and jeans, square toe brown boots on your feet. You reach for a black parka on the coat rack and a scarf that he recognizes as a polyblend. He makes a mental note to get you a cashmere one when you're not paying attention. "Good morning," you reply, shrugging the coat on and tossing the scarf around your neck sloppily. He walks towards you, tutting while he does, reaching out to flip your hair out from under the scarf. He readjusts the material so it lays neater against you, tucked in and under the jacket so you actually stay warm. "Gonna freeze if you don't wear it right," he sing songs, shaking his head while he works. "Okay dad," you roll your eyes, swatting his hands away when he goes to zip up your coat, "I can do it." You don't zip your parka up, instead you peek your head into the kitchen and whisper a quick goodbye to your mom and your niece. Maureen appears with the baby again and says a motherly goodbye and 'Merry Christmas' to Steve. "It's very nice to finally meet you, Maureen," he almost flirts, "Have a Merry Christmas." She winks at you when he turns towards the door, mouthing a very enthusiastic 'He's cute.'

You have half a mind to say, 'Yeah, he knows. That's what's so infuriating.' But you think it, instead. You opt to mouth a simple 'Stop,' at her before following him outside towards the car. "You're mom's so sweet," he says when he gets to the side walk from your porch, hand immediately coming out to support you down the icy steps, "Careful." "There's a railing," you explain, using him for support, "It's there so I don't fall." "Well, you're holding my hand anyway, so," he shrugs. You bristle at his coolness, always so slick even when it's innocent. He's so hateable, it's almost unfair how excited he makes you. "As I was saying," he starts again when you make it to the end of the stairs, "Your mom's so nice." "Maureen? Yeah, she's a sweetie," you agree when you get the passenger door. He reaches past you to open it, and in doing so has you chest to chest with him. He lingers there for a moment, looking at you down the slope of his nose. He cocks his head, eyes a little hard, lips pulling into a smirk. "So what happened to you, then?" he teases, lips dangerously close to yours. You catch your mom peaking out of the living room window and sink down into the open door onto the leather seat. "Shut up," you huff, "You're not funny." "I'm so funny," he corrects, shutting the door, appearing on the drivers side moments later. "The stores don't open for at least an hour," you say, buckling into the seat, "Why'd you wanna leave so early?" "Thought we could get breakfast first," he shrugs, looking your over in the passengers side. He bites his lip, eyes flitting from your thighs to your face, "You look nice."

"It's nine in the morning Harrington, keep it in your pants," you shove his shoulder and he grins while he puts his attention back on the road, pulling forward away from the sidewalk. "It's 9:07 actually," he says, aloof, hand resting on your inner thigh once he had his bearings on the road infront of him, "You're so warm." "Perks of big thighs, I guess," you shrug, "You're wearing gloves though, I think that helps." "Nah, your thighs are just warm," he grins again, "Haven't had to buy ear muffs for the last five years cause'a them."

"You're so gross," you turn to him as you say it, exasperated. The car rolls to a stop at a redlight and he turns to look at you. "I'm so gross, huh?" he asks, leaning in. His hand floating from your thigh to under your chin. The leather is smooth on your skin, you can smell his cologne as he moves closer, "S'that why you want me to kiss you so bad?" "I think you wanna kiss me so bad," you tease back. His lips catch yours, fingers gently wrapping around your jaw as they do. The leather sinks into your full cheeks, flush from the cold and the way his mouth fits against yours. His nose bumps your cheek and your ungloved hand finds his, you can feel the smoothness from his shave this morning. Smell his moisturizer, his shaving cream. Taste the mint from his mouth wash in your mouth. A soft hum leaks from your chest and you feel him smile into the kiss before he breaks away, the light turning green against the white cloudy sky. "You're right, I did wanna kiss you so bad," he admits. His hand falls right back on your thigh, hitting the gas to pull onto the highway.

You'd been at it for a couple of hours now, store after store, the mall littered with families and screaming children. "We can go to the west wing. I don't know why you keep avoiding it," he chides. He puts all the shopping bags you've both already accumulated into the hand furthest from you, offering you the empty one. You take it, your other hand empty since he wouldn't let you carry your own bags. "That's the nice part of the mall," you say, "I don't want to spend that much on a dress for one night."

"Then it's a good thing you're not spending any money on it," he smiles. "Steven," you chide, "Enough, pl--" "Don't use that voice with me. I told you a thousand times I want to get you something pretty. So we're getting you something pretty," he urges, "Let's go." The west wing has all the fancy stores in it. Luxury brands, far stretches from Kay Jewelers and JC Penney. You aren't sure if they even carry your size in stores like this, but maybe you'll be surprised. It's not long before he has you in a dressing room, working with the attendants and tossing dress after dress in behind the curtain. Steve sits on one of the waiting area couches with the rest of the men. Your purse and coat is on his lap, the shopping bags resting between his feet. You poke your head out after the fourth dress, looking for an attendant but they're all busy. He notices your nervous face and waves to get your attention. "Need help?" he asks. You flush. "Can you get this zipper for me? It's not a side zipper so I can't reach," you ask. He nods, slinging your purse over himself with the cross body strap, asking the guy next to him to watch the bags with a quick 'Would you mind, chief? Thanks a million.' He comes up to the curtain and sees the front of the dress, red bursting to his cheeks, tinging his ears, "Good fucking lord." "Oh stop it," you blush back. You turn around and zips up the dress, some resistance meeting at the top. You walk closer to the mirror and inspect yourself, scrunching your face at your reflecting. "You don't like it?" he asks with a frown. "It's just not me," you shrug, "It's a little tight, and I don't want to be thinking about that the whole time, y'know?"

He nods, looking over his shoulder to see a dress on the 'put away' rack, dark green and off the shoulder. The style a mix between Herve Leger and vintage Dior. "Ma'am," he calls out when he sees an attendant walk by, "Would you mind pulling that dress for me? The green one?" She scans her hand over the rack and points at it, reading out the size. "That's perfect, actually," he smiles, that winning Harrington smile that makes the girls melt, "Thank you." "You're very welcome," she says sweetly, posture straightening when she brings it over. You peak back out and he turns you around to start the zipper down on the number you'd just tried on. "You look so good in green, try this one," he says, passing it to you, "Very Hawkins High." You hold it up in front of you and consider, it's a bodycon but still somehow classic looking. A velvet piece that you wouldn't have picked out yourself. "Hm, okay, I'll try it," you say, turning to him with a furrowed brow, "Now get out, perv." He smiles, closing the curtain carefully and retreating back to the couches, "Thanks for watching the bags, man." The guy smiles, "Us husbands gotta look out for each other, right?"

Steve bites his lip in a toothy grin, nodding, "Yeah, for sure."

"How long you been married?" he asked. "Few years," he lies, it's fun to lie when people have asked about you before. He'd get comments every now and again at Porter's, have chats with bar stoll warmers about you like you'd been together forever. "Few years? You look like babies," he laughs, the gray smattered in the man's hair shines in the pristine white lights of the store. "When you know, you know," Steve shrugs. The man nods, "They do say that, don't they? Well, I'll give ya a little advice. Fifteen years down the line, here -- they aren't lying when they say 'happy wife, happy life'. So just, y'know, do whatever she says and you're golden." "Great advice, honey," a woman's voice coo's above them. Steve sees her Vivienne Westwood shoes first, head tilting up to see a very expensive woman in front of him. She has a few dresses in her hand that he immediately stands up and takes from her. "Merry Christmas, kid," he says while they head out, the wife nods toward Steve in acknowledgement and he gives them a small wave. "Oh Steve, this is it, this is the one," you say, stepping out of the dressing room with the dress in your arm, the 'no's' in the other. His shoulders slump, "You didn't even let me see it."

"It'll be a surprise. You'll see it tomorrow night," you smile. He instinctively gets up and takes the dresses you don't want to hang up them for you on the rack. You exchange them for your purse and jacket, scarf previously abandoned in a shopping bag. "You all set to go? You have any other shopping you wanna do?" you ask.

"Hmm," he thinks, "Let's stop by jewelry first."

"Something for your mom?" you ask, putting your parka back on. "Something for you," he says, "To go with that dress."

"No, no, I have jewelry at home. I'll ask my mom if I can borrow something," you wave your hand off at him while you walk out of the dressing area and back into the store together. "Hey, hey," he shushes you, raising his neck to look into your eyes, "Let me spoil you a little, okay?"

"You already got me a new scarf and gloves," you say earnestly, "It's too much, Steve."

"You needed a new scarf and gloves," he says knowingly, "Let's get you a necklace to go with that dress, hm? You need shoes, too?" "I'm drawing the line at shoes," you warn, putting your purse over yourself while you walk through the beauty section, "I brought plenty of shoes with me."

He shrugs, "Suit yourelf."

Monday night comes quicker than expected, but you'd stayed the night at Steve's after shopping, only to wake up in the late morning with him the next day. You'd been up late fucking mercilessly wrapping gifts with each other, teaching him how to curl ribbon, watching him fold wrapping paper with obscene precision. The only reason you went home is because he had to go into the office to finish up some reports. You arrive around seven-thirty, a little late but still there, heels clicking on the marble floor of the lobby -- and there he is, waiting for you behind the turnstyles to the elevators -- suit jacket fitting him almost criminally.

"Fashionably late?" he teases, opening the side gate to let you through to him, "Everyone thinks my date stood me up."

"Oh, I'm sure your secretary will be so disappointed to know I'm here," you joke back.

"I don't fuck my secretary," he shakes his head, hitting the call button, "I fuck Rob's secretary. God, do you ever listen to me when I talk?"

Rob, Steve's work nemesis.

"Oh forgive me, there's so only many office flings I can keep up with," you say, stepping into the elevator. You take off your scarf from under your coat, revealing the necklace Steve bought you at the mall. He smiles to himself, seeing your adorned by his gifts. The scarf, the necklace, the gloves. He's excited to see the dress, it's all he thought about today. When you get the floor of the party, you wince a bit at the noise. It's rowdy, a lot of the men are already drunk. And boy is it, fancy. Men in suits, women is cocktail dresses in sky-high heels, hair in big blowouts with glowing gold and silver jewelry. You're suddenly thankful for the necklace Steve bought you. You'd been around your fair share of fancy in New York, but never really living it outside of your own work holiday parties. Sometimes you forget that this is Steve's day to day. "The actual offices are the next floors up, this is just our meeting hall. They really go all out, huh?" he smiles, "Let me bring you to coat check." On the walk to coat check you scan the room, it's decked out in gold and red. Ten foot Christmas trees sit in every corner, draped in garland, ribbon, and tinsel. Lights leaving a soft glow out of the floor to ceiling windows of the room. Intricately placed curtains of warm white christmas lights hang from the ceiling, dress the walls and windows. The room is a halo, glowing and warm. In the center of the room is the open dance floor, flanked by tables covered in white cloths -- drinks already littering them. Speakers boom top 40 and Christmas music, chatter and laughter booms over it.

"Here, let me get it," he says when you reach the coat check area, a little set up of a few racks with a sweet woman at a table, writing out tickets for you to keep track of for the end of the night. He undoes the buttons of your coat and you shrug it off slowly. His eyes round and he gulps, mouth going dry at the sight of you.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes out, pulling your coat back over you, "You can't be serious rigt now."

"What?" you ask, suddenly self concious, "Does it look bad?"

"No, oh my god, no, it's..." he pulls your coat away again and sucks in a sharp intake of breath, "If I knew you were gonna look like this, I wouldn't have let you wear it here. Can't have everyone looking at you when you're here with me."

He looks you over, the way your breasts sit in the sweetheart neckline, how tightly it clings to your curves, the shape of your hipes, the outline of your belly in the fabric. He licks his lips, knowing he's not strong enough to see you from the back just yet.

"God damn," he shakes his head, "You're gonna kill me." "Well, you look very handsome too," the compliment is genuine but it doesn't register for him. He's busy looking at your glossed lips, the necklace places perfectly above your chest, the smell of your perfume. He licks his lips and your words finally hit him, so does the feeling of the fabric of your coat in his hands. "Th-thank you," he smiles, "Thanks." He checks your jacket and gives the lady at the table a $20 even though the coat check is free. Waiters walk around with hor d'ourves and drinks and he reaches for the champagne flutes, nodding to you to see if you want one. "It's kind of chilly, is there coffee or anything?" you ask, running your hands over your arms. "There's hot toddy's," he says, "They're by the bar but you don't like whiskey."

"I can pretend to like it for right now," you smile, he smiles back, placing his champagne flute on a table that he'd been sat at earlier, your name card placed on the seat next to him. He takes your hand and leads you to the bar, running his own hands over arms to warm you up while you wait behind a small line of people.

"This is pretty," you tell him, "Looks like everyone is having a good time."

"Half of these guys have been drinking since four," he laughs a little, "I'd hope they're having a good time."

"Oh, Harrington, is this her?" you hear a gruff voice ask. Steve's arm sling protectively around your waist at the sound. "This is she," he says back, he presents you like a trophy to him. His best Vanna White while he scans a hand over you to show you off. "Rob Delaney," he smiles, a smile that rivals Steve's, and offers his hand. He is devilishly handsome, no wonder Steve hates him so much, "You must be the girl that's got Harrington running to the big city."

"I think it's the pay raise that has him running to the big city, but thank you," you giggle, shaking his hand. It's a firm shake, a businessman's shake. You feel the chill of his gold pinky ring brush against your skin. "Pretty thing like you got a name?" he flirts, you feel Steve pull you closer, his hand splaying at the curve of your waist. Your face heats up at the feeling, knowing he doesn't like sharing you even though you weren't his to begin with. "Natalie," you smile. "Natalie," he repeats, giving you a once over, "Pretty name for a pretty girl." "Well, thank you," you say politely, letting go of his hand. He puts his own in his pants pocket, smiling at the both of you. "It's nice to meet you. Save me a dance, will ya?" he smirks when he asks.

"Don't know how free I'll be for a dance, Delaney," Steve replies with a tight voice, ffingers digging into the velvet of your dress, "She's kinda got me tied up all night. Maybe next time." Rob nods, biting back at snicker before walking away with his drink. "See, angel, this dress is dangerous," Steve says in your ear, you hold back from having your eyes roll back in your head at the feeling of his voice in your chest. He orders your hot toddy and a whiskey on the rocks for himself, you nurse it slowly back to the table -- the drink is strong and the food here is light. You feel lucky you ate dinner before you left or else this night would've been ten times more dangerous than the dress you were wearing.

An hour and two hot toddies later and you're chatty at the table with Steve's work friends. He glows while he watches you, the way you are able to blend in so seamlessly with everything. Like you've known these people longer than he has.

"And so I'm still on the phone after he puts me on hold for thirty minutes," you continue through gasps and giggles, the whole table is crying with laughter, "And -- and he comes back and is like, "Oh ma'am, I'm so sorry. Did you say L'Oreal? I thought this was the Oriole's marketing office!"

The table erupts in laughter, feet stomping, glasses clinking while men bang on the table. The women dab tears away with their napkins. Business talk, business jokes. Two big kids in their parents clothes again, at a fancy office party that they don't need to go to.

"Oh god," Steve's co-worker says, face red with liquor and laughter, "That is fuckin' marketing for you. I'm gonna go get a drink, you all want another round?" The group at the table nods, but Steve waves off a no for both of you. 'Last Christmas' flows through the speakers and some people have found their way to the dance floor. He takes the hand resting on your lap and gives it a light squeeze to get your attention. "Hey," you say, turning towards him.

"Hey," he says back, thumb brushing your skin, "You wanna dance with me?" You blush, nodding when he stands up. He's almost too charming, who are you to say no to him.

“Happy Christmas, I wrapped it up and sent it — with a note saying I loved you, I meant it —” Steve mouthed along with the words dramatically, guiding you to the dance floor on gliding backwards feet. His hips swayed expertly — surprising since he didn’t strike you as much of a dancer. You saw him at many a homecoming dance, he was not incredibly impressive in the 80s.

“Now I know, what a fool I’ve been, but if you kiss me now, I know you’d fool me again,” he sings along softly while he pulls you into him. His hand presses against your lower back until you’re chest to chest, hips against his hips, holding your other hand outside the both of you. Your face burns in the low light, noticing the other couples on the dance floor — women with engagement rings and wedding bands, women introduced as ‘my girlfriend _____’ who would be fiancés soon.

“When did you get so good at dancing?” you ask, looking up at him.

“This year to save me from tears — been going to a lot of weddings — give it to someone special,” he explained through his soft singing, “Got good at dancing so I could pick up bridesmaids. What about you?”

You scoff at his answer before answering yourself, "I was always a good dancer, Steve."

"How was I supposed to know?" he shrugged. Hair falls in his face when he leans forward to brush his nose against yours, his tell that he wants to kiss you.

"Should've danced with you at prom," he mumbles, resting his forehead down on yours.

"I didn't go to prom," you smile, moving your head on his chest, "Wasn't really my thing." His hand travels from your lower back to just below your shoulder blades, holding you while you both sway in time with the music.

"What'd you do instead?" he asks, you can't help but giggle and he can feel it in his chest.

"Ugh, it's embarrassing," your face burns while you nuzzle into the lapel of his jacket.

"It was years ago, c'mon," he urges, “Tell me.”

You look up at him and scrunch your nose, “I let Eddie Munson take my V-card that night.”

Steve gasps, you want to punch him in his perfect teeth.

“Right on his stained mattress at his uncle's,” you laugh and scrunch your nose harder.

“Oh, no…” he laughs, a twinge of jealously plucks in his chest, “Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson?”

“I mean he was a different kind of freak for me,” you shrug and Steve presses you even closer, feeling your breats and tummy squish against him. Warm and soft.

“Any good?” he asks, trying to make it casual. But even if it was so long ago, he had to know. "Good for seventeen," you shrugged, "And eighteen, and nineteen, and twenty. Then Corrded Coffin took off and he left."

"So you kept fucking him when you'd come back for breaks?" he laughs.

"It's a long winter break, Harrington," you explained, "I had a life before you, y'know."

"Yeah, but, was it a good one?" he squints when he asks, so you know he's joking. You roll your eyes at him, anyway. While George Michael wails, Steve can't help himself while looking at you in the low light. His body so close to yours he could barely breathe correctly. His hand skates up the the top of your back to your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that only both of your lips understand. Sharing secrets with eachother through clicks of spit, soft breaths, and swipes of tongue. If it weren't for the hot toddies, you'd never let him kiss you like this with people around. When you break away, he's breathless. "You look so good tonight," he confesses, the hand holding yours leaving to meet your cheek, "Can't stop lookin' at you." "Well thank you for the dress," you smile, "It's all you."

"Fits you like a glove," he smirks, "No lines or anything."

You blush but he can't tell, "Well I'm not wearing anything under this so that's why."

Steve chokes, sputtering, astounded at how you can say that to him so casually. The whole time he's had his hands on you, it's only been this flimsy velvet fabric keeping him from feeling your skin. All night you've been naked under this -- and you're just telling him now?

"Uh -- um," his voice cracks, "Do you uh, um, you wanna see my -- um, my office?" "I don't know, is it interesting?" you ask with a laugh. His hands skate down to your ass, the whiskey in your system tells you its okay when he lets his palms roam the mass of it. "Can make it so interesting for you," he says, lips brushing yours, "So, so interesting."

His hands and lips are on you the moment you step into the elevator and the doors close. His tongue runs a flat stripe over your collar bone, over the twenty four karat gold chain around your neck, following your jugular until he gets to your job.

"Your quarterly review came in," he murmurs in your ear, hand skating up your dress to tease you. Fingers brushing over your inner thighs, creeping slowly upward while you whine, "It's abysmal."

The doors ding open and he pulls you by the hand down the hall to the corner office. The windows show off the Indianapolis skyline, buildings glittering from floor to ceiling. There were packing boxes littered around, leather chairs and a couch cross from his desk for meetings. A bar cart left abandon in the corner with a large oak desk in the center. "Abysmal?" you reply innocently while he shuts the door behind you, "Does that mean I'm gonna get fired?"

He finally gets a good view of you from behind and bites his fist bringing the other hand down hard with a loud CRACK! against your ass. He smirks to himself with you yelp. "It might," Steve sinks down into the chair behind his desk, beckoning you over with a finger.

“Wanna keep your job?” he asks with a sly smirk, the authority building in his chest.

“Yes, Mr. Harrington," you playfully whisper. "Then show me," he sighs, reaching for his belt. The clink of the metal on the buckle being undone sent a shiver through you. He stayed relaxed in his office chair, pulling out his length to pump it lazily in his fist.

"Don't be such a tease," he scolds while you stand there, gaping at his cock, feeling behind you to twist the lock on the door.

"Steve! You can't just -- you're at work!" you gasp, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise.

"You just locked the door," he shrugged, "They're all downstairs, c'mon just -- please, come suck my dick. It's already out."

“You’re insane,” you laugh, “We have to go back out there eventually, Harrington.”

“I promise I won’t mess up your makeup,” he pleads, a soft grunt escaping his lips while he quickens his pace on his cock.

“So, I suck your dick,” you start, walking slowly back towards his desk, “And what do I get?”

“Baby, in that dress, you can have anything you want,” he gasps as he runs his thumb over his leaking tip, watching your hips sway while you continuing your slow strut toward him.

“Want me to fuck you instead?” he asks, “God, fuck, bend over the desk. I’ll fuckin’ give it to you.”

“Very forward, Mr. Harrington,” you coo, slowly reaching for the hem of your dress, “Can I keep my job if I let you fuck me?” "Keep your job?" he pants while you bend over in front of him, hem slowly rising over your thighs, "Give you the whole--whole fucking c-company." Your dress slips over the curve of your ass, legs taught and flexed while balancing your weight on your tall heels.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispers while he stands, still fucking his fist while he does it, "Your body's just...shit, you're so...I wish you could see how you look."

He clumsily reaches for the middle drawers on the side of his desk, hastily fishing into a half empty box of condoms. You can't stifle the laugh that bubbles out of your chest, "How many people are you fucking in here, Steve?"

"Shh, just shut up," he huffs while he quickly works the latex over his shaft. "Well excuse me," you murmur, bracing yourself while he puts one hand on your hip. The other dips between your legs, pressing against your entrance. "You nice and wet for me?" he asks gently, soaking his fingers in his mouth and coating your opening with a mix of your slick and his spit. "Y-yeah," you say breathily, rocking back onto his hand. Steve smirks, feeling your walls puff and twitch as his touch. You feel his length slide between your thighs, hand guiding his tip to drag across your folds, parting them as he pushes in just an inch or two. You hiss at the intrustion, you were wet but not relaxed. The let downs of not having enough time for foreplay. He runs a calming hand down your back over your dress. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he soothes, "I'll go slow." You feel his hips slowly pull out and push in again, coaxing your walls to start accomdating him. You part your legs a little, the arch in your back matching the porn stars in 'SLUTS AND CEOS XXX' videos you were sure Steve had seen before. Slickness builds between your legs while he pushes his hips in and out again, more and more of his length getting sucked in. You hear him groan when it gets all the way to the hilt.

"So tight..." he grumbles. It was almost uncomfortable for him, he knew you were turned on enough, "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, sort of," you nod, wincing, "Hurts a little."

"Sorry," he apologizes again while running a hand through his hair, "Lemme...hm..." You hiss again when he pulls out, looking back to see him get to his knees while his hands grip your thighs. Steve just goes for it. His tongue immedately making contact with your entrance. "Steve, oh..." your eyes roll back when he parts your lips with his thumbs, tongue gliding forward to your clit while his fingers find home inside of you. "There we go," he chuckles darkly, "Did she just need a little somethin' extra from me?" "Oh, shit, that's so good," you whisper, covering your mouth to stop your whimpers escaping from under his office door. His fingers pumped like pistons inside of you, teasing your g-spot just enough to get you dripping down your thighs. "Think it'll be okay now?" he asks, his hand meeting your hip while he gets back to full height. "Mhm," you gulp when you feel his head push in, and then the rest of him. Much easier this time around. "Fuuuuck, me," he groans, his hips rolling in steady thrusts against you. You cover your mouth harder, moans caught in your throat, in your palm, threatening to ricochet of the high ceilings of his office. "Better, baby? That feel good?" he asks, his voice clouded behind breathy grunts. You were still tighter than normal, and while that was great, he'd fucked you enough times to know when something wasn't working. "Really good, Steve," you whine through gritted teeth. His speed picks up, the skin of his thighs clapping loudly against the backs of yours. Steve's thrusts are shallow, hitting deeper and deeper until you're on the toes of your heels. "Look--oh fucking fuck--Look back at me," he pleads, "Wanna see you." You oblige and he sighs at the sight of you, reaching forward to move your hair away from you, "So pretty for me."

Steve never looked at the girls he was fucking in his office. It was always just to get off, to feel good after a rough meeting. To let off some steam after his underlings fucked up yet another sale. New secretaries, mail girls, office assistants, you name it -- all he had to do is wink and they'd be bent over his desk by lunch. "I'm close," he admits with a blush, "S'just...mmm fuck, s'what you do to me." "That's okay," you smile, his hand reaching forward again to touch your face. "Been hard since you fuckin'--oh shit, Christ--since you got here," his brows are furrowed while he watches you. Swollen wet lips letting out soft moans while he pumps into you. God, he'd do anything to keep you like this -- wet and ready for him. You catch his hand, pressing kisses to his fingertips, eyeing him mischeviously while you do it.

"D-don't, you're gonna m-make me---" he warns, another groan taking over while you slip his first and middle finger into your mouth. Sucking expertly, your lipstick smearing on his knuckles. "J-just need s-something in your mouth, hm?" his face contorts, brows furrowing while he clamps his eyes down. Whatever authority he had in his voice falls into boyish whines when your tongue swirls between his fingers. It's a sensation he didn't know he'd like so much, having his fingers sucked on while he was buried inside you. Something about the warm wetness of your mouth. The dirtiness of it. The way you'd wink at him while you did. He took his fingers out with a sharp inhale of breath, trying to stave off his orgasm. Instead, he uses them to wrench your hair back, your chest arching off the desk. The sound of your cry would definitely be heard a few doors down if anyone else was around. You involuntarily clench down on him, gushing. "Oh I see, you want me to be a little mean?" he asks against your neck, open palm coming down against your ass again, "Put you in your place?"

"In my p-place? Please. I thought I was getting the whole c-company?" you ask slyly, turning back to face him against the hold in your hair, "Isn't that what you promised...?"

You raise your eyebrows at him, mocking his own approach to the edge, mouth gaping. "Isn't that what you p-promised, Mr. Harrington?"

He gasps, hips stuttering while his grip in your hair slacks and clutches your shoulder. Gutteral groans flow from his throat, a string of expletives pour from his mouth. Gasps of phrases like, "My little office whore...fucking Jesus, my perfect girl...Pretty -- oh god -- pretty baby..." Steve slows his thrusts to nothing, heaving his breaths until they steady and leaning forward to rest his forehead on your back. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, "You didn't..." "I didn't," you shake your head, "But it's okay."

"It's not okay," he says while pulling out, carefully removing the condom and tossing it in the trash can under his desk. "Gross, Steve," you admonish, standing up. You adjust your dress while turning to face him and he frowns, "Someone has to clean that up."

"Don't put your dress down, let me --" he reaches for the hem, but you stop him.

"Steve, it's fine. We have to go back downstairs, they're gonna know you're missing," you smile while you say it, "They're loving you down there."

"I'll make it up to you later," he promises, pressing a soft kiss against your lips, "Wake up all the neighbors when we get home tonight."

"Whatever you say, Harrington," you roll your eyes while you get to the door, clicking the lock. You both make your way to the bathroom when you leave his office, making quick work of cleaning up. He waits for you against the wall across from the door, your purse in his hand. "Hi," he smiles, when you exit, "Missed you."

You scoff, reaching for your purse and fishing out a compact to touch up your lipstick and powder. He walks next to you while you touch up, arm slinging around your waist while he does.

"You're gonna make me mess it up," you say, swiping a line of color over your lips. "I already messed it up back there," he shrugs while the elevator doors ding open, "What's a second time?" He pushes you up against the elevator wall when the doors close behind you, "Or a third time?" You hum into his kiss, hungry and touchy, feeling yourself swell between your legs.

Another drink and an hour on the dance floor later and you're back at the table while the guys chat with cigars on the opposite side of the room. Steve stands with a hand in his pocket, cocky and confident, while he talks with his work friends -- you're sure about something he doesn't really care about. Mergers and acquistions.

"He sent Rob's secretary three dozen roses as a goodbye gift," one of the women at the table behind you said to another. "Oh, you know he just did that to piss him off," her friend replied, "Muffy told me she doesn't even like him like that. It's all been for fun."

"He told her to come visit him in New York any time," she shrugged, "But he stopped sleeping with her earlier this month cause he said he's got himself a girl in the city."

"Can't believe he's going to New York for some girl," she complains, "He stopped flirting with everyone. But you know what? Good riddance, he's fucking boring now. Hot but boring." "It's not the girl he brought tonight, right?" the other woman asks, "That's gotta be a friend from school or something. She's not very New York looking, pretty home grown if you ask me."

It doesn't bother you, but your shoulders tense a little. In your own little world with Steve was one thing, but to hear people confirm your slight fears about what the future could hold was another. You couldn't deny the sinking feeling in your chest every time you remembered he was moving to New York. Moving into your life in a way you'd never had him before. Disrupting the whole life you built there by yourself, a place you've been able to call home without anyone from your real home to bother you. 'Got himself a girl', since when? Weren't you just having fun? Before you can get too lost in your thoughts, he's coming towards you with your coats in his arms, holding yours out in front of him. "You wanna get outta here, baby?" he asks, there's a slight slur to his words that makes you laugh. "Sure," you smile. You hear a soft 'Oh, shit,' come from the table behind you. "You need me to find a phone to call for a car?" you ask him. He shakes his head, "No, they'll call one for us downstairs." You put on your coats, led around for a flurry of goodbyes before heading back into the elevator to the lobby. He takes your hand immeidately, leading you to the front desk to ask for a car before taking you outside to wait. "You have fun?" he asks, pulling you in to hold you, protecting you from the cold. "Oh, a lot of fun," you smile, "You brought your dancin' shoes, for sure." "Had to, since you're so nice to dance with," he smiles, hands dropping from your arms to laces fingers with yours. You smile, but he notices there's something off about it, not as genuine, "You okay?"

"Oh yeah, yeah, fine," you shake your head, "Just thinkin'."

"Yeah, I've been thinkin' too and um..." he starts, looking down, brows furrowing, "Thinking about you and uh--"

"What did you mean the other night, on the phone? When you said 'It's what it implies'?" he asks, thumb gliding idly against your gloved hand. One of his co-workers came bumbling through the revolving door, eyes glazed over with the buzz of alcohol. You dropped his hand before whoever this was could register it, embarrassment buzzing through you. If the women were talking about you, you couldn't imagine what the men were saying.

"Hey man, goodnight -- good to see you and uh -- yeah g-good luck if oh, shit I'm so fucked up dude -- good luck if I don't see you," he slurred, pulling Steve in for a hug. "Thanks, Jack. Easy there, buddy," Steve rolled his eyes at you from over his shoulder before he let go, "You're not driving tonight, right?"

Jack shakes his head and laughs, leaning against are large stone sqaure pillar. His eyes semi-follow the figure of a beautiful woman in a maroon dress pushing through the revolving door.

"Jack, let's go," she calls, like a mother to a son. She waves him over with her clutch, engagement ring glinting in the buildings facades.

"That's my ride," he smiles, stumbling over to her. They take eachother's hand and she offers an apology over her shoulder, saying goodnight to Steve and smiling at you.

"Sorry about that,” Steve says apologetically, reaching for your hand again, “You we’re saying.”

“Just that,” you stuttered, unable to find the right words to say to explain it, “I don’t know Steve. I’m not like — I don’t — This isn’t — ugh..”

“Take your time, Manhattan,” he teases. You don’t want to hurt him, especially not when he smiles at you like that.

“Bringing me here,” you start, “In this dress you bought me, in this necklace. Dancing with me, taking me to your office. It’s making people think we’re together.”

“Are we not?” Steve asked, his brows furrowing, “Cause I thought that — like, we talked about — have you been sleeping with other people?”

“No, Steve, I haven’t,” you shake your head, keeping your voice calm, “But I’m not going around telling people that you’re my boyfriend.”

Steve’s face drops a little, some pink rising in his cheeks that isn’t coming from the cold, “Oh.”

“I thought you liked me,” Steve confessed, “That you, y’know — that you wanted me. That you liked me the way I like you.”

“I do like you, Steve,” you tell him, your hand resting on his chest, “But what if this isn’t what you really want? What if this is just fun for now?”

"I mean, I -- I uprooted my whole life for you," Steve argues, "I'm moving to New York in a week and a half."

"I didn't ask you to do that for me. You wanted to do something new," you calmly explained back, "I said I thought it would be a good idea."

"You said we could try it for real..." his voice got weak, caught in his throat. Steve's amber eyes rounding while he looks at you, how the street lights dance across the jewelry he bought you, the gloss on your lips.

"When you got there," you corrected, "And what if you get there and that's not what you want anymore? There's a lot to offer guys like you in the city, Steve. It's a totally different world than the one I'm living in."

"I can bring you into it with me," he pleads, hands sneaking under your coat and finding your waist.

"Steve..." you say knowlingly, your shoulders sinking. Your fingers reach up and brush his hair out of his face, delicately following the line of his cheek.

"Nat, please, I..." his voice trails off when he realizes what he's about to say. You watch his Adam's apple bob while he swallows the words.

"Don't say it," you whisper softly, shaking your head, "You don't mean it."

A cab finally pulls in, and you take a glance at it over your shoulder. "I'm gonna go home, okay?" you ask. You turn to pull out of his hold, but he pulls you in desperately.

"Natalie..." disappointment soaks your name when he says it, "Just -- c'mon. We can forget this whole conversation. Please, come home with me."

You shake your head no.

"Please?" he begs, pulling you a little closer to him, "Please?"

You lean in to kiss him, taking him all in. His cologne, the way his lips taste, the way he moves his hands from your waist to your jaw. He wants to keep you there forever, pausing his life for however long it took to get bored of how our lips feel against his. He doesn't think there's a time when he will.

You break away when the cab beeps, brushing your nose against his like he does to you, "I had a really nice time."

"Me too," Steve kisses your forehead, swallowing the lump in his throat when he accepts that you're not staying the night, "Call me a little later? So I know you made it in okay?"

"Of course," you promise. It hurts to look at him like that, tears shining in his eyes that he’s trying to blink away.

“Goodnight Steve,” you smile with your lips closed, afraid that if you open them you’ll never stop talking about all the things you’re afraid to talk to him about.

“Night,” he says while you turn to hurry towards the cab. As it drives away, you see him wipe at his nose and shake his head, crossing his arms tightly around himself to protect him from the cold now that you weren’t there to keep him warm.

Steve watches the cab leave with a lump in his throat, sniffling hard enough that the cold air burns the back of his throat. There's no way in hell you don't love him back, he thinks. There's no fucking way. When the red lights from the back of the cab disappear onto the city streets he turns back into the lobby, Last Christmas plays again softly over the speakers like it's mocking him. The tinny layments bouncing off the marble floor and back into his ears, down to his chest where his heart thumps painfully. Rob, and his secretary Muffy, stumble out of the elevator bank drunk with giggles and empty champagne flutes. He catches Steve walking towards the security desk and lets out a hearty laugh. "You goin' home alone Harrington?" he asks with a grin, "Shoulda let me know, would've brought your friend along. Three's company, huh?" Steve's jaw ticks but he ignores him, letting the gush of cold air soothe over his mixture of sadness and frustration while Muffy and Rob open the door. His shoes click on the marble as he approaches the desk, the music taunts him as he does it. 'A face of a lover with a fire in his heart, a man undercover but you tore me apart...'

"Can I help you with anything else, Mr. Harrington?" the attendant asks. Steve sighs, the breath comes out in a shudder, "Would you mind calling me another cab?" "Right away," he says warmly. Steve appreciates the kindness, he wishes he got the man a goodbye card. The sound of the phonecall for the car is muffled as Steve thinks about how it felt to dance with you, the warmth of your skin, your giggles at the mall, the way you kissed him goodmorning in his bed earlier. He swallows, tears pooling in his eyes. 'But the very next day, you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special. Special -- someone --' "Car should be here shortly."

"Thanks man, thanks so much," Steve says without turning around to face him. He wipes at his eyes with gloved hand, heading back into the cold to wait for the cab.

Alone.

[palajae]

tomorrow, again | two.

PAIRING ▸ school president! jungwon x reader x outcast! niki 

GENRE ▸ high school! au, love triangle!, romance, fluff, angst, humor

WORD COUNT ▸ 4k

SUMMARY ▸ if you were told that two complete polar opposite guys from your school were eventually going to be fighting over you, you would have laughed it off. that is, until it really happens- but certainly not under the conditions you expect.

AKA jungwon is the peak definition of your school’s itboy and niki is just… there (if and when he actually shows up to school). 

NOTES ▸ events/memories in the past are italicized. mentions of death + related jokes, cheating?

masterlist. | previous. | next.

2 — DAY ONE.

“ah, give it back,” you whine for the controller with grabby hands. you hear his excited giggle, swerving away from you against your wishes. 

“no way!” he grins cutely while clicking to continue on the next round. 

another voice buts in, “come on, let y/n play another round. you’re too good at this game anyways-“

you wake up sweating, the dream? memory? fresh on your mind. you close your eyes in hopes of making it go away and it works when you being to fall asleep again, having gotten an adequate amount of sleep but still exhausted from everything that’s happened at school. 

only for your alarm to go off and you groan.

you thought fridays were supposed to be the best day of the week- not a day filled with more people staring at you in the halls first thing in the morning. you stare at them back, utterly confused as to what happened this time. 

that is, until ryujin basically stomps over when she spots you. 

“you went out with niki yesterday?!” 

you almost collapse on spot. “wha-“

she crosses her arms with a (scary) interrogating stance. “apparently someone saw you at a cafe with him yesterday so everyone’s freaking out now thinking you’re two timing jungwon.” 

you slap a palm over your forehead, almost brought to tears. who, what, when, where, and why? that’s all you wish to know. 

“first off, im not dating that guy. and second, yeah i was with him- because we were working on a chem project!” you practically whimper. 

her hands fall to the side as she cocks her head, “really? that‘s it?” 

you nod aggressively, feeling numb as you trudge through the halls to find your locker.  but the gossip doesn’t escape you- sometimes you hate how drama hungry everyone at school is. 

“how could they cheat on the sweet, smart, and handsome president jungwon with that loner niki who skips school almost everyday?”

“they’re crazy, seriously.” 

and that was just the mild version of things you heard. for once you’re just grateful niki chose not to show up today and can only pray that he will on the day you have to present for your project. judging by his “i don’t give a crap” persona he’s been carrying for a while, you know these baseless rumors without any factual basis won’t affect him. 

and you? 

you gave up the moment jungwon winked at you. how sad, the year was going so good so far- until that one moment messed up everything. 

you continue on with your day as normal, denying all rumors no matter who comes up to you or what you hear. but still, you begin to dread waking up tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after. 

everyday is just waiting for another tomorrow, again. 

but you’re able to confirm that niki knows about it all when you spot him in the halls making his way to chemistry, passing by whispering people who really aren’t trying their hardest to be inconspicuous. you just barely manage to see the slight smirk on his face under the hood and the tiny shake of his shoulders. 

somehow, you know jungwon knows about it too. specifically when he contacts you to meet him on the school rooftop. consequently, you demanded to know how he got your number and he simply replied with president privileges. 

you’re not sure what the relationship between jungwon and niki is like now, but when jungwon gives you a hard stare and asks why you’re hanging out with ‘him’ you think you get it. 

but before that, you let out a huff of exasperation. 

“first of all, it’s none of your business. i’m tired of people making up random stories and spreading false information. and secondly, you’re not making it any better by being up here with me, alone. so goodbye jungwon.” 

you haven’t said his name in so long, it rolls off your tongue foreignly- and leaves you with questionable feelings.  

jungwon’s left there to wonder.  

you could care less about what occurs after that, but you in fact, have come up with a theory. it didn’t help how you could feel the tension in the air when they passed each other in the halls, even without a single glance at the other- including the fact that over the next week, jungwon would approach you literally all day to talk or simply walk next you as you glare at him. 

and niki casually walking into class choosing to sit his butt down in the seat next to yours without a word. to which when other people asked you about it, you blamed it on project stuff, but in reality you were freaking out too. 

or when you two present successfully and he says things like “it’s all because of y/n,” and “i couldn’t have done it without them.” 

-like who says that kind of stuff? 

a boyfriend, that’s who. 

and niki was far from being yours. 

oh no, definitely not when he steals your pencils or draws on your notes without a single word, only a teasing glint in his eyes. 

not to forget the one time you reached over to fight back and he immediately dropped his playful act, stopping you with a lethal, “don’t touch me.” 

it’s sad how you almost flinched at that. 

“it’s like a battle,” chaeryeong murmurs while eying the two guys at opposite sides of the cafeteria (jungwon sitting with his friend happily chatting and niki seemingly sleeping with his head down at an empty table). 

“-a battle as to who can get y/n first.” 

you let out a hideous laugh at that, covering your mouth with a hand and pretending to wipe fake tears from your eyes. “you’re so funny, chaer.”

no but seriously,” wonyoung pipes up, “what did you do y/n? suddenly the two most complete opposite boys of our school are throwing themselves at you…”

“i wouldn’t exactly call it throwing themselves at me,” you grumble while picking at your nails in distress. you throw up your hands helplessly, “i swear on my life i didn’t mean do anything- or want to do anything for goodness sake’s. you don’t know the amount of death threats i get in my locker everyday for-” you make air quotations, “-stealing their wonie.” 

it’s sickening, truly. 

but going back to your theory, it doesn’t take long for your smart brain to realize what’s going on, or at least you think you know. those two are having an indirect fight, by using you- out of all the people in the school, the whole freaking world.  

they turn up the “flirting” with you in front of each other because they think it’s a freaking competition- not because they actually like you.

or so that’s your hypothesis you came up with out of the blue. 

to anyone else at school, it just seems like two boys fighting over one person. but only you know it’s more than that. 

it’s much deeper than that. 

· • —– ٠ ✄  ٠ —– • ·

you really thought it was just a school thing. your home was your place of sanctuary to get away from those two nightmares- one like the sun constantly shining in your eyes and the other like the shadows trying to envelop you into nothingness. 

so you didn’t expect to meet jungwon on one of your late night walks around the neighborhood. then again, you must’ve forgotten that he lived like a street or two down from yours. just great. 

your eyes widen once you realize who it is underneath the streetlights. he seems equally surprised in a comfortable hoodie and jeans. you hate how he looks that good while you were in your pajamas, too lazy to change out of them. 

“what are you doing here?” you stare at him accusingly and he shrugs, hands in his pockets, “i could ask you the same.”

how strange after all so long it’s the first time you’ve encountered him like this.  

you scowl, “whatever, i’m leaving.”

jungwon’s eyes widen as his hand shoots out in desperation to grab yours. you hiss when he effectively stops you. 

“wait! i know you just got out here and now you’re going to go back?” 

“and so you’re being a stalker and watching me?” you counter back.  

he sighs, “i know where you live, y/n. you did not get far from your house, like at all.” you fall silent at his words, he had you at that. 

debating internally, you give up and continue walking, tensing when you realize jungwon follows your pace and walks alongside you. 

“what-“

“sometimes it’s dangerous at night,” he pretends to muse while looking off into the distance but you scoff.

“i can protect myself.” 

“i know,” he whispers softly and yet you still hear it, growing warmer at his words. 

the walk continues on in silence, and you find yourself at peace strangely, even with jungwon next to you. 

you stop when you reach your neighborhood playground- the one that you know has been there for more than fifteen years and realize it hasn’t changed at all. 

“remember when we-“ jungwon suddenly stops himself, looking almost ashamed of himself, and you turn away. there’s a brief pause before you respond quietly.

“yeah, i do.” 

there isn’t much else to say, so you walk back home together with not much, but still matching tiny smiles. 

“wait! jungwon, please go first,” you beg him with wide eyes. your tiny hands grip the metal bars, unable to move from your spot so high up. he laughs at you, shaking his head fondly. 

“alright, since you’re such a scaredy cat. i’ll go down first and make sure it’s safe.” 

you nod intently and watch with apprehension as he goes down the slide with ease, hopping to the ground with a proud smile. he turns to you, with bright eyes. but when he sees the worried look on your face, he puffs his chest and holds out his small arms at the bottom as if to catch you. 

you take a deep breath, gripping the sides of the plastic slide until your fingers turn white. you glance at jungwon again and he beckons you down with an encouraging smile.

“your turn! but don’t worry, y/n. i’ll protect you.” 

· • —– ٠ ✄  ٠ —– • ·

for some reason the next day at school, you don’t glare at jungwon the moment he approaches you. you do stare at him wearily  though. 

“what do you want now, yang?”

he seems surprised at the usage of his last name, but he shrugs it off coolly. 

“i want to know if you’re free next thursday?” 

if any normal person asked you, you would have been caught off guard, but because it was jungwon, probably the worse tease in the world, you sigh instead. 

“nice try, but i know you have your student council meeting and book club, so you won’t even get home until dinner time and by then it’s no point going out with me so late since we have school the next day,” you rant on listlessly. 

if anything, jungwon’s the one who seems flustered at your accurate knowledge of his schedule, but you don’t seem to notice anything. days continue on like that, and you wonder why at school he acts the same as he usually did around you. but that one night…. he almost seemed like-

like the old him. 

· • —– ٠ ✄  ٠ —– • ·

your mother gives you a grocery list and you comply, eager to get out of the house on a gloomy day. but perhaps you should have been more observant because one, it started to pour soon after you entered the store without realizing it and two, you knock into someone while looking for the pepper in the spices aisle. 

“i’m so sorry-“ 

you stop at the sight of niki. 

“you?” you gasp and he just blinks. 

“what are you doing here?” 

okay, so that was a stupid question. niki raises his eyebrows, “shopping at a grocery store like a normal person? but i guess you’re not a normal person, so…”

you forgot he was like this. whatever, you think bitterly before moving past him. 

“okay, wait, wait!” 

you freeze when you realize this is the loudest he’s ever spoken with you recently. you turn around with crossed arms and he shuffles awkwardly in his spot.

“i’m sorry. that was uncalled for.” 

you can’t hide your shock, nor do you really want to. 

niki? the “don’t touch me” guy apologizing? 

he seems uncomfortable under your gaze so he continues down the aisle. you break out of your daze a few seconds later, only then realizing that he’s gone, 

just to meet up with him again a few aisles down. 

you clear your throat awkwardly as he approaches you, expecting him to do something. but instead, as you reach out for a certain ice cream, niki grabs it right before you can. 

“hey!” you glare at him in protest, “that was mine?” he shrugs nonchalantly, “first come, first serve.” 

“idiot, i was here before you,” you retort. 

“and yet i was still faster,” he smirks and you feel your blood pressure rising. you let out a small humph! and move onto the next aisle as niki watches with amusement. 

you’re able to finish smoothly while waiting at the cashier, finally noting the storm outside and your absolute absence of the one thing you needed the most- an umbrella. 

when you sense motion behind you, you start slightly. but spotting those same teasing eyes make you relax. why, of all days, was there only one cashier open today? 

niki waits patiently in line behind you as you finish up paying and grab all your bags. 

well, you suppose you’re getting soaked this fine evening. 

before you leave, you send one last glance back at niki who quietly gets all his stuff paid for. 

the automatic sliding doors open and yet you can’t seem to move your feet outside. 

“what are you waiting for?” niki suddenly asks and you grimace. 

he takes out a black umbrella and you  must’ve stared at it so longingly to the point where niki sends you a weird look. 

“why do you look like that?” 

you inhale, “hm?” 

he examines you carefully and your apparent lack of an umbrella. he holds up his own as if taunting you, “do you not have one?” 

you shake your head, “i completely forgot. it’s alright, i just gotta make a run for it.”

but you still don’t move, staring up at the dark clouds. 

niki shakes his head, muttering to himself before the black object is thrust into your field of vision. 

you look up at him, surprised.  

he doesn’t say anything and avoids eye contact as you process the situation. quickly, you shake your head- “no way, i don’t-“

“just take it.”

“no.”

“i’ll be fine. rain doesn’t bother me.”

“then i could say the same.” 

niki sighs, muttering along the lines of ‘as stubborn as ever,’ or something like that but you won’t budge. “then there’s only one solution,” you finally state and he looks at you questioningly while the rain continues its downpour. 

you let out a breath before saying, “we go together.” 

again, you didn’t expect him to agree, you even braced yourself for an obvious rejection. but here he was, walking you home underneath the shared umbrella. 

it’s silent at first, so you take the opportunity to speak up, “thanks for going with me… i guess.” 

niki nods silently. 

you soon grow accustomed to the peaceful sound of rain falling on the umbrella. without any conversation, you look at niki and your breath hitches at the proximity between you two. you didn’t realize how close you were, shoulders grazing, in order to not get soaked.   

unable to handle the silence any longer, you can help but ask curiously, “do you only have black umbrellas?”

“no,” he snorts. 

“do you still have that yellow one?” 

it comes out past your lips without thinking. when niki looks at you with wide eyes, you slap a hand over your mouth. but it doesn’t take long for him to regain composure, his deep voice filling your ears, “no. it stopped working and my parents threw it away.” 

“because you used it too much?” you ask, amused, and he nods with a growing grin.  

it’s strange, how niki drops you off with a small wave and you wave back. a soft smile grows on your face as you watch him leave, a promise that next time you’ll get the ice cream first. 

“why’d you choose yellow?” it was your first time seeing such a bright yellow umbrella held out by such a proud looking boy. you look at your own blue one, having gone with whatever your mother gave you. you glance at him with curiosity brimming in your childlike eyes. 

“is it your favorite color?”

“no, but see? there are suns on the edge of it.” he points up and you open your mouth in awe. 

“that’s pretty cool.” 

he grins, “i know. next time it rains i’ll share it with you!” 

you produce an grin similar to his, “okay, if you remember to bring it.”

“of course i will,” he replies stubbornly, “how could i ever forget whenever it rains? it’s my favorite kind of day.” 

· • —– ٠ ✄  ٠ —– • ·

why are you not even close to surprised that at school, niki is back to his old ways. it was just like jungwon, the two of them were going to be the death of you. you wonder when the last time they spoke to each other was- although, quite obviously, it seemed the last time wasn’t recent at all. as far as you can tell, they stood on opposite sides of the room- if they were even found in the same room (a rare feat). 

but then when you were just with the two of them, alone, it’s like they were their old selves again.

 you didn’t ever realize how much you missed it- being with them.

whilst at school you found jungwon insufferable, you realize that you’re getting used to his antics. you hate to admit it but, you aren’t bothered or annoyed as much seeing his face everyday.   

probably because the more and more you saw him, the more it became evident to you that the old jungwon was still there. behind all the cocky smirks and remarks, the sweet and hilarious jungwon peeked through. 

and you secretly felt elated. 

you couldn’t help but proud of who jungwon was, and who he became. he was still true to himself and he was by your side through  thick and thin, through all the ridiculous rumors surrounding you. you were proud to be his friend- that is, if you even were able to consider yourselves that. 

maybe that’s why you don’t mind the late night walks with him that become a regular, something you actually look forward to. the times you can reminiscing on memories instead of hiding them away. all the good times that you wanted to forget, tried to forget for a good while couldn’t escape you. 

the good times you had together.  

and although jungwon didn’t really like talking about it as much (and you respected that even as much as you wished to know the truth) he had to admit-

the three of you made the best memories.

· • —– ٠ ✄  ٠ —– • ·

“jungwon,” you give him a piece of your dessert before turning to the other, “and riki.”

“both of you guys get a piece so no more fighting.”

jungwon shakes his head, “you eat too many sweets, riki. you know it’s bad for you.” said person sticks out their tongue, “okay mom. whatever you say.” 

you and jungwon share a look, shaking your heads together in unison before breaking out in laughter. riki has no choice but to join in with confusion, only causing you and jungwon to laugh even harder. 

· • —– ٠ ✄  ٠ —– • ·

“i still don’t get it,” you rub your eyes in frustration. you already knew jungwon was a genius from the start. and your english grade had been on the edge for a while,

so why not take advantage of the best resource you had and ask jungwon to tutor you? 

at first he was shocked when you asked but his expression quickly changed to a cocky one. “now you oh so desperately need me?” 

you drop the pleading puppy dog eyes act and huff. “just whenever you have free time, you can come over to my house and we can study together and stuff.” you mumble the last bit before leaving, embarrassed.  

turns out, jungwon is still as good of a teacher as he was before. you don’t understand how he’s able to explain each concept with such ease. as you stare at him while he explains so seriously and genuinely, you desperately imagine him as your teacher instead.

“-y/n? are you listening?” 

you jolt, “huh? me? yes.”

jungwon can tell how anxious you are by the way your hands begin to fiddle and he suddenly reaches out a hand to grasp your wrist. “stop that,” he scolds gently before releasing you, “that’s never been a good habit.” 

you’re speechless as he eyes you suspiciously before closing the book. “then… good luck on your test tomorrow. just remember what i reviewed today and you should be good.” 

you get up and squeeze his free hand subconsciously. “thank you lots, jungwon. i mean it, i owe you a favor now.” 

his eyes sparkle and you begin to regret saying that. “any favor?” 

the next day, you text jungwon to meet up with you after school. he seems confused and even concerned but you don’t give him much to work with. he arrives straight on the dot, 3pm, while lounging around at the library and tapping his foot anxiously as he waits for your arrival. 

he got stopped twice by a couple of passing girls but he politely excused himself, saying he had some personal business to attend to. 

jungwon certainly doesn’t expect you to burst through the doors, flying into him as he lets out a loud grunt. 

you practically beam at him, “i passed with a 98!!!”

immediately, jungwon lifts you up and spins you around with ease, truly pleased and impressed by you as you laugh. 

“now what did i say, y/n? to trust me and yourself, and you did fine. i’m proud of you!”

you couldn’t hold your excitement back as you laugh happily, agreeing with him. 

he doesn’t even realize what he did until right then, suddenly acting shy and awkwardly apologizing to you. to be honest, you didn’t feel uncomfortable or shocked by it, and you stay wondering if you should’ve felt as awkward as he seemed. 

the sight of him suddenly brings a memory fresh to your mind, and you don’t know whether it’s a good or bad one. 

· • —– ٠ ✄  ٠ —– • ·

“where’s riki?” you ask with a frown. jungwon sits down next to you at the lunch table, opening his lunchbox as you wait patiently. “i think he had to skip school again..” 

the surprise is evident in your tone, “again? but-“

he sighs while shrugging, “you know riki, and how important this is to him.” 

“i know, but missing three days of school already?” you distractedly wipe a piece of food off the corner of jungwon’s mouth while talking and he freezes. 

“boys are so messy,” you murmur with a shake of your head. you’re too focused on your food to see his reaction. 

“w-who knows,” he abruptly swallows, “if he becomes more serious and his skills improve, he might be missing school for a long time.”

you grow sullen at the thought of riki’s absent seat in class and jungwon must notice the upset expression on your face because he pokes your cheek. annoyed, you swat his hand away but he doesn’t stop trying to bother you. 

“hey, don’t forget you still have me!”

you let out a giggle, “yeah, unfortunately.” 

looking back on those days, you figure that specific memory was the start of the end. 

TAGLIST ▸ @hiqhkey @axartia @precioussoulofmine @myspasedu

send an ask/dm to be added to the taglist!

[mrsbrookegillespie]

=“Do You Like It?” Pt. 2=

Description: Luke finds out the truth about his present.

Warnings: Angst if you squint. Overworking yourself, small argument, and a whole lot of FLOOF.

=“Do You Like It?” Pt. 2=

Band practice. It used to be Y/N’s favorite time of the day--it still is. She loved to watch the passion in Luke’s eyes when he played a killer riff, or hit a note just right. She loved to take notes on the little imperfections, but now… She can’t even write a single word without pain shooting up her arm. Nor can she demonstrate how she thinks it should sound without her legs nearly giving out on her, or her back sending what felt like someone stabbing her a million times. This didn’t go unnoticed by the boys, especially the overprotective, lovable, touchy Luke, known as her boyfriend. “Alright boys…” She lowers her wrist after looking at her watch for the time. “It is time for me to go to work.” 

The music dies down, all the boys giving concerned glances to one another. “Again?” Luke asks, carefully, setting down his guitar on the stand. “That’s like the fifth shift this week.” His large, evident frown made Y/N weaken. 

“I took up a couple of double shifts is all,” she pauses. “I’m doing it for the band.” 

That was always her excuse for overworking herself, it was her version of ‘I’m fine’.

“Y/N, why aren’t you asleep?” The door to her bedroom swings open, exposing both her brother Bobby, and Luke. Tired expressions on their faces.

“Why aren’t you?” she replies, not tearing her gaze away from the piece of paper in front of her. 

“We were… Someone woke us up,” Bobby informs, annoyance laced through his voice. 

“Bobby!” Luke snarls.

Bobby looked to appear guilty of his tone. He waves it off. “Never mind that, don’t you have a test tomorrow?” 

Y/N shrugs. “I do…” she sighs. “But, that doesn’t matter right now.” She moves her attention to them. “I have this great song idea--” 

Luke rushes over to her, she flinches slightly, knowing what was coming. “You need to get some rest, it’s three in the morning.” He twirls a piece of her hair, soothingly despite his argumentative words.

“Says teenage boys,” she mutters. “And stop acting like you’ve never done this before.”

“Y/N--” 

“It’s for the band!” she whines, cutting him off. 

Or that one time…

“Y/N,” her father, Tony, starts. Her, Bobby, Luke, Reggie, and Alex looked up at the tall guy that stood in the doorway of the living room. 

“This won’t be good.” Y/N gulps, closing her songbook.

“What is this about you failing three of your classes?!” 

Y/N’s eyes squint in embarrassment. “Dad! Not in front of the band,” she whisper-yells.

Luke turns to give Y/N a confused, and almost hurtful expression. “Y/N, you said you didn't need help with your assignments that--” 

“You had it ‘under control’,” Alex finishes, leaning forward to fixate on Y/N’s eyes. 

“Maybe I fibbed,” she mumbles incoherently.

“You even helped me with my assignments,” Reggie comments. “And yet--” 

“You’re not doing your own?” Bobby asks.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Wow, you guys have been spending way too much time with each other, finishing sentences, that’s crazy, a little weird, and cre--”

“Y/N!” Luke exclaims. 

“Luke!” she mimics, teasingly. 

“Maybe it’s time for us to help you with school,” Luke suggests, but Y/N dismisses the topic immediately. 

“No! You guys need to focus on your music, the band,” she bickers. “That should be your main priority. That’s what it should always be.” 

“But, you are the heart of the band, our music. So, focusing on you, helping you, would basically be the same thing as what you’re telling us to do,” Luke signifies. 

Y/N left feeling defeated. “You don’t need to worry about me, I’m doing this for the band. Everything I’m doing right now, rather than school, is all for the band.”

Tony crosses his arms. “Then maybe it’s time to take a break from the band.” 

“You always say that,” Luke blurts.

“And every time, it’s true,” Y/N responds. 

“But, what about me?” Luke asks.

Y/N purses her lips. “What about you?” 

“Whoa,” Luke chuckles. “Me. Luke Patterson…” Y/N’s eyes avert to her shoes. “Your boyfriend.” He whistles, waving a hand in front of her face to gain all her attention back. “Hello?” 

“I-I don’t see what point you’re trying to make here,” she stammers. 

“I rarely see you,” he claims.

“You live in my garage Luke, we always see each other. I’ve been here for an hour, right here, on this couch, watching you.” Her tone started to get short as her exhaustion kicked in.

“I mean seeing you. As in my girlfriend, our friend, all we’ve been seeing is our manager.” Luke picked up on her mood, channeling the same energy.

Y/N gets closer to him. “I’m right here, Luke, what more do you want from me?”

“You’re about to leave.” 

“Because I have to!” Y/N shouts.

“We should stop this,” Bobby tells Alex. “It’s scaring Reggie.” He gestures to the boy with his hands covering his ears. 

Alex nods in agreement. “Let’s do it.” 

Bobby and him take steps towards the pair still arguing. “Guys!” Bobby moves in to separate them. “Let’s just think about this for a second.” 

Y/N sighs, exasperated. “I really have to go to work, if I don’t, dad will kill me.” 

“What does your dad have to do about this?” Luke questions, even more confused than before. “Is this some kind of punishment for you?” 

Bobby slowly backs away. “It’s going to be a bloodbath in here any moment,” he guessed.

“You can say that,” Y/N answers to Luke. “I just may have done something that requires me to… Work a little harder to gain some money… Back…” She was nervous. Fidgeting with her fingers, as her palms grew sweaty. “This is it, this is when he finds out.” She loudly sighs, closing her eyes. “A lot of money.” 

“How much?” He glances at Alex, Reggie, and Bobby for any sign of the answer, but they were uselessly just watching this scene play out.

“A thousand,” she squeaks, inaudible. 

“What?” He leans in a little closer.

“A thousand,” she repeats at the same level of volume. 

“Y/N, you need to speak a little louder.” 

She takes a deep breath, holding it. She opens her eyes, gaining the courage to just tell him the truth. “A thousand,” she says, loud, and clear. 

“A thousand?!” he chokes out. “What did you do that’d cost a--” he cuts himself off. He glimpsed at the still flawless looking guitar hung on the wall. “Did you--did you buy that on your own?” 

She looks away from his gaze, embarrassed. “I have to go.” Y/N leaves before he can reply. 

His jaw drops. “Y/N!” he calls out, but she ignores him. He spins on his heels, pacing over to the boy. “Did you guys know?” 

Their silence gives him the answer he dreaded. “We tried to convince her to tell you but… She’s very stubborn, as you know,” Bobby explains. 

“I just--I wish I knew.” Luke roughly pushes a hand through his hair. “I would’ve…” he pauses. “I should’ve been more appreciative.” He stares at it. “That’s it! I’m taking it back to the shop, and selling it.” 

Ignoring his friends, he goes and grabs the guitar. His rush movements, knocking over Y/N’s songbook that laid on the table. Alex is the first to read it, his eyes catching a neatly decorated card that had ‘To Luke Patterson From Y/N’, written boldly on the front. “Luke,” he calls out. Carelessly setting the book back in its spot. “Before you make any hasty decisions, I suggest you read this first.” 

Luke narrows his eyes, seeing his name. He sets the guitar down, plucking the card away from Alex’s hands. He frowns. “I’ve never seen this before,” he admits.

“We’ll give you a minute.” Alex grabs Bobby and Reggie by the collars of their shirts, practically dragging them out of the garage. 

Luke doesn’t move at first, but rather standing there by the piano. He admired the colors, and designs carefully drawn on the thick paper. She always did like things to be perfect… Especially for him. He sits down on the couch, opening the card. 

Dear Luke,

You have always been my sunshine. You illuminated everything around me when things were dark and grey. We’ve had our ups and downs, but in the end we were together. That night you knocked on my window, soaking wet from the rain, and crying. It was the first time I saw my sunshine blocked by clouds. Hey, look at me, I guess you do learn things from book club after all. I missed it, I missed my sunshine and seeing you smile, because I love your smile. You have the prettiest smile that you can’t help but smile at. I wanted to take your pain away, just like how you take away mine. Which is why I got you the thing you’ve wanted since you told me. And please, don’t worry about paying me back. Your happiness is the best payment I can ask for… I hope you know that I’d do everything for you without needing anything in return. So, go be my rockstar with your new guitar. 

Love Y/N.

Luke stares at the words, blankly. 

“Luke?” the boys call when he stumbles out of the garage. 

“You guys have to help me.”

Y/N was miserable at work. Stress drowning every ounce of ability to actually do her job. “I’m so sorry!” she says when she runs into someone, having leftover drinks spill all on them. “I’m…” Her voice fades, when she sees her boss with his arms crossed. 

Another worker comes over to take care of the mess, and the customer. Her boss gestures to her to come to his office. “Sit,” he orders.

“I don’t want to sit if you’re going to end up firing me,” she simply establishes. “Easier exit strategy.” He doesn’t say anything, but just holds out his hand. “No,” she whines. “You don’t understand I need this job. I’m literally taking double shifts right now. I’m good with people, and I just…” She groans. “If my dad finds out I was fired he’ll kill me. And how am I supposed to help my brother, and my boyfriend’s band without a job. I’m their manager, you know,” she rambles, but the man pays no close attention to what she’s saying.

“If you are doing your job as manager right, then you should have no problem making money.” 

Y/N’s jaw drops a little. She sniffles with a nod, untying her apron. “Fine,” she whispers, handing the apron to him. “But, if you don’t say the words it doesn’t count, so let me do it for you… I’m quitting.” She turns on her heels, but stops. “I’ll be back Friday for my last paycheck.” 

Glares were sent her way when leaving the restaurant. When she gets outside she allows her tears to fall. Stepping into the driver's seat in her car, she breaks down. Sobs escape from her mouth. “Why me?” she cries. 

Once settled down a little, she begins to drive back to the house. 

She slams her car door, confused to hear music coming from the garage. Not the band’s music, but… “Surprise!” 

The boys pop out, with huge smiles on their faces. 

Y/N’s eyes wander around to the fairy lights, the snacks and drinks on a portable table, and all the blankets and pillows outside with the projector set up. “What--what is this?” she asks in shock, yet happiness radiates from her.

“Do you like it?” Luke hugs her from behind. 

“I love it,” she replies. “But, why? It’s not a special date… Is it?” She raises an eyebrow in curiosity.

Luke doesn’t move, allowing Bobby to take over. “We rarely appreciate how much you do for us, and we thought maybe it’s time to let you know just what you mean to the band, and to us… Our family.” 

“You work so hard for what we do,” Alex continues. 

“You deserve a lot more credit than we give you,” Reggie adds. 

“It’s true,” Luke chimes, softly, into Y/N’s ear. “We all agree that… You truly are the rock of this band.” 

Y/N nods, biting her lip. “Thank you… I just feel like I’m not good enough to manage you guys,” she confesses.

Luke frowns, spinning her around to face him. “Don’t ever say that. Who else would buy me a thousand dollar guitar?” 

“Who else would laugh at my jokes the way you do?” Reggie accounts. 

“Who else would give me free therapy sessions?” Alex appeals.

“And what better person to handle our craziness than my own twin sister?” Bobby emphasizes, gesturing to Y/N. 

Y/N shrugs. She looks at the dark, cloudy sky, hoping she won’t cry anymore than she has. “I don’t know,” she whispers.

“Y/N?” She looks at Bobby’s, mentally noting his tense tone. “Why are you home so early?” 

All eyes were on her now. She holds onto Luke’s hands to keep her from drowning in anxiety. “I--I got fired--quit,” she corrects quickly. “I quit.” 

“Y/N--” 

“It’s… It’s for the band,” Y/N cuts off Luke, calmly. “Now!” She claps, replacing her frown with a smile. “What movie do you have planned for our night?” She changes the subject. 

Luke shakes his head. “Your night…” He pushes a piece of hair back behind her ear. “Your night, your choice.” 

Y/N’s eyes avert to all the boys before landing on Reggie. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” 

Reggie grins widely. “Does it start with S and end with S?” 

“Wha--No!” Alex groans.

“Star Wars!” Y/N and Reggie squeal, running off to retrieve the disks for the marathon. 

Bobby lands himself beside Luke. “Think she’ll be alright?” He wishes he could read his twin sister a little better than he can presently, but that’s why he had Luke there to help.

Luke not paying attention just responds with a hum. “She has the prettiest smile.”

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added, or remind me if you’ve already asked): 

@lovesanimals​ @charliegillespiewife​

[pan-fangirl-345]

Hidden Panthers

Summary: Soulmarks aren't rare, and neither are soulmates, but what is rare, is a person who doesn't want to meet their soulmate, but Toho Academy has two.

Or: Five times Aomine was curious about your tattoo, and one time he saw it.

TW: a small amount of angst, I suppose one part might be comparable to a panic attack, and some swearing, but I promise it's mostly fluff.

A/N: I had an idea! Since I have no requests currently in my inbox, I thought I would jot it down before I forgot about it.

1.

"You guys do realize that you should be practicing, right?" you asked when you walked into the gym and the boys were all shirtless, showing off their soulmarks.

"They're trying to prove who's is the biggest," Momoi informed you, making you snort.

You were almost one hundred percent certain that you had them all beat, except for maybe Aomine.

Your soulmark was a special image somewhere on your body, and animal, a place, something like that. They were colorful, and looked like tattoos.

The mark on your body corresponded with the one on your soulmate's body.

You knew that Aomine had your matching tattoo, not that he knew that, and that was okay.

The black ink of his tattoo was stark against his tan skin, but you knew that he wasn't showing it off with pride, it was him just proving a point.

Top dog on the team, biggest soulmark, he was unbeatable.

Aomine had made it clear that he didn't appreciate the thought of soulmates, that he was fine with not knowing who they were, not knowing who you were, in your case.

"What's yours (Y/L/N)-kun?" one of the boys asked and you snorted, a hand flying to cover your mouth, sometimes you hated hanging around teenage boys all the time, it made your mind go to weird places sometimes.

"Sorry boys, you don't want to see my mark, trust me," you muttered, touching your shoulder softly.

Aomine's eyes were on you, burning a hole through your body, but you ignored him.

"What is it?"

"None ah," you said.

"None ah?"

"None ah ya business," you replied, dropping your bag by the bench.

The boys peeled off into laughter, and Momoi gave a small giggle.

You smiled softly, tugging your sweatshirt off.

The boys were getting to practice, though Aomine was still watching you, watching you with those startling blue eyes.

"Are you going to practice or are you going to just stare at me like a creep?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Nah," he muttered, moving to head out the door, but you moved in front of him.

"Nope, you're here," you told him, throwing your arms out. "If you're here, you're practicing, even if that means you have to practice with me."

Aomine squinted at you, and you were 99% certain that he was going to try and shove you out of the way, but he sighed, heading back to work in drills with the other boys.

Momoi was watching you, eyes glinting in the way they did when she watching a game and her data was proved correct.

"Momoi-san," you said, "why are you looking at me like that?"

"It's just a hunch," she murmured, wandering off to watch Aomine play.

You frowned after her, wondering what the hell she was talking about, but you shook it off.

Those two were weirdos.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2.

"So, (Y/L/N), what's your soulmark?" one of your friends asked, and you sighed.

"It's nothing all that impressive," you lied, flipping the page of the textbook you were skimming through.

"But what is it?" she persisted.

"A pain in my ass," you muttered, touching your shoulder lightly again.

"(Y/L/N)-kun," one of your classmates said, "one of the basketball boys is waiting for you outside."

"Thanks," you replied, gathering your stuff up.

You were a back-up manager for when Momoi was away watching other teams play.

You were surprised to find Aomine leaning up against the doorframe, practice clothes on.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey yourself. Are you actually going to practice again?" you asked, hauling your bag over your shoulder, wincing at the weight.

He made a small noise, which made you think that that was his version of a yes.

"Why don't you show off your mark?" Aomine asked.

"Why don't you?" you replied, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Soulmates are bullshit," he muttered. "I don't like being told what to do. I hate being told who to love even more."

"My soulmate doesn't want me," you admitted after a moment of walking, readjusting your bag on your shoulders. "No point in showing off something that symbolizes someone who hates that I even exist."

Aomine paused, running his eyes over you again, and you glanced back at him.

"What?"

He didn't answer, he just stood there watching you. He had been doing that a lot, and you were a little worried about it.

"Are you coming or what?" you asked, heading for the gym.

He followed behind you, eyes boring into your back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3.

"What's your soulmark?" Aomine asked.

You had gone to the roof to tell him to get his ass to practice. He had been coming more and more often, but he had been staring at you for most of it, despite urging from both you and Momoi to actually practice.

"Nothing important, not like you practicing," you deflected, standing in front of him with your arms crossed.

"Snippy," he quipped. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"Perv," you muttered. "And I've already seen your mark."

"Yours is on your shoulders, right?" he asked. "You keep touching them whenever someone brings them up."

"Yeah, it's a pretty big one," you admitted, reaching to touch your shoulder absentmindedly before you registered that you were doing it. You dropped your hands to your sides again, frowning.

Despite the fact that you already knew your soulmate, and how he felt about the whole thing, the mark was still comforting to a degree.

Aomine was still watching you, he had been doing it a lot, though you weren't entirely sure why. Every time he did, it jump started your heart, making you wonder if he knew.

He made a small noise, then dragged himself to his feet.

"Gotta go to practice," he mumbled, bumping shoulders with you as he headed down to the gym.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4.

Aomine started appearing more and more after that. He wasn't following you exactly, but it was almost like your schedules had overlapped.

Then you had gotten assigned to do a group project together.

"Nice place," he muttered when he walked through the door into your home.

"Thanks," you said, shutting the door. "I'm telling you this right now, Aomine, I am not doing this entire project by myself, and if I do end up doing it by myself, you are not getting your name put on this. Do you understand me?"

"Yes ma'am," he muttered. "Do you have any bread?"

"What?" you asked, then you remembered his weird carb obsession. "Uh, yeah, just . . . give me a minute," you said, setting your things down on the couch before you headed into the kitchen.

Snacks were something you could do.

You got him a drink too, and when you set a plate and a drink down in front of him, he glanced up at you appreciatively.

"Thanks," he said.

"No problem," you told him, sitting beside him on the couch.

"What are we doing the project on?" he asked.

"I have no idea," you muttered. "It would be easy to do a keynote or something, but there are going to be so many people doing that."

You pulled the project requirements out of your bag, your eyes flitting over it.

"What if we did like a . . . a soulmark examination?" you asked. "We were reading a book about how people think soulmarks mean something to the pair that share it instead of simply being an indicator, right? All we would have to do it take a picture of one of our soulmarks and make up some sort of metaphorical bullshit and make it look pretty when we present it."

"We should do yours," Aomine immediately suggested.

"Why mine?" you asked, panic starting to float into your veins.

"Because I want to know what it is," he replied, grinning at you.

"How about we do yours? You have your own fan club and I'm sure they'd be ecstatic to know what it is. Besides, yours is easier to do than mine," you told him.

"How so?"

"Mine is across my back," you informed him. "That means that I would have to take off my shirt and my bra for us to get a picture, and there are so many things that could go wrong with that. Besides, it's not like anyone in the class hasn't seen your back already, it's not new information."

"Fair enough," Aomine said. "But, when I get fakers pretending to be my soulmate, you have to be the one to fight them off."

"Deal," you said, holding your hand out to him.

He took it, shaking it firmly once, before he tugged his shirt over his head.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered, curling his shoulders forward so that you could get a clear picture of the black panther lounging across his shoulders like it was a tree branch.

You snapped a couple photos from different angles, and resisted the urge to touch it.

It was the same as yours, and you wondered vaguely if you had ever found your tattoo as beautiful as you found Aomine's.

"We good?" Aomine asked.

"Yeah, we're good," you croaked, then cleared your throat as he pulled his shirt over his head again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5.

Your project had gotten a great grade, and you were both proud of it, but now Aomine seemed to be hellbent on figuring out what your mark was.

"Just show me!" he'd whined.

He'd been up on the roof again, and you had been charged with getting him off the roof and down to practice.

"No, Aomine. Now get off your ass and get down to practice," you told him, arms crossed.

You had been in this position for the past couple of weeks, and it was almost routine now.

"I won't even be a dick about it," he had promised you, his eyes looking almost sincere as he pleaded with you. Almost.

Aomine, you had learned, had adopted you as a friend, in the last few weeks of being stuck around him.

You and Momoi had started walking to class together, and Aomine had started trailing behind like a lazy guard dog, much to the chagrin of Momoi's many suitors.

"He really likes you," Momoi said one morning.

"Oh yeah?" you asked, chuckling.

"He hasn't liked someone like this in a while," Momoi told you. "He's a long time basketball junkie, so seeing him take an interest in someone that doesn't have much of a connection to the game is a relief to me."

"Momoi, I thought we agreed that you wouldn't profile me," you told her, giving her a small smile.

"I can't help it," she whined, taking a hold of your arm. "You have to tell him (Y/F/N)!"

"Sorry Momoi-san, I can't do that," you replied. "He doesn't want that."

"How do you know if you won't tell him?" she asked, pouting.

"Momoi-san, he's made his stance on soulmates exceedingly clear, and he likes me now because he doesn't know. I want it to stay that way. I'd rather be a friend than anything else. Besides, he doesn't like me like that," you informed her.

"I've been friends with him since we were kids," she said, glancing at you with those eyes. "I think I know when he's interested in a girl."

You snorted, but your conversation tapered off when Aomine joined you again.

"Seriously, what the hell is your soulmark?" Aomine demanded. "I have asked literally everyone I can think of that might know. No one in this entire fucking school seems to know what it is."

"Sorry Aomine," you said, slipping into your classroom, throwing a grin over your shoulder at him. "A girl needs to keep her secrets, besides, you aren't the only one with a soulmark thing."

His growl resonated into the classroom and you chuckled lightly as you sat down at your desk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

+1

Of course, the one time the teams tries to do some team bonding they chose to go to the fucking beach.

Of course, Aomine had also been the one to suggest the beach. The others thought it was because he wanted to see girls in bikini's, but he had glanced at you and winked.

He wanted to see what your mark was.

"I hate you," you snarled, cornering him, before he left for his house. "You scheming son of a bitch."

"Such vulgar words," he teased, giving you a dark look. "And I have no idea what I could've done to make you hate me, baby girl."

"You know exactly what you did," you growled, ignoring the pet name. "The whole beach thing was your idea."

He grinned, and you suddenly understood why your mark was a panther.

Something flashed through you, and your let your own grin show through.

"You want to play games Aomine-kun?" you teased, keeping eye contact with him. "Fine, then let's play."

"What do I get if I win?" he asked.

"You'll have to choose that for yourself, if you win," you told him, storming out of the doors.

When the day came to go to the beach, nothing was out of the ordinary, save that the boys had decided that one of them had to be with you and Momoi at all times.

"You guys don't need to babysit us," you chided when you climbed onto the bus. "We tend to stick together anyway, and pervs, unless they're in groups, tend to pick the girl that splits away from the pack. Momoi-san and I can stick together and reduce the risk. This is more for you guys than it is for us anyway."

"Yeah, we don't need a guard dog," Momoi agreed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'll stay with them," Aomine offered, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and Momoi's, and you rolled your eyes.

"You just want to know what my soulmark is," you told him, glancing up at him.

"Wait," Sakurai murmured, "even Aomine doesn't know what your soulmark is?"

"Nope," you said, popping the 'p'. "He's been trying to figure it out for weeks now. That's why he suggested going to the beach."

"You clever son of a bitch," the captain said, and you shrugged.

"He and I have a small little wager going," you admitted, shrugging his arm off your shoulders. "If I can keep my soulmark hidden from him for the whole day today, he drops it."

"And if he wins?"

"She's being cryptic about that," Aomine said, and his eye twitched lightly.

"If he sees it, he can decide what he gets for winning," you told them. "He'll understand if he sees it."

And so the game began.

"Are you going swimming, (Y/F/N)?" Momoi asked you.

"Are you?" you asked her.

"No, I want to work on my tan," she admitted, waving a small bottle of tanning lotion.

"Then I'll stay with you. I have some reading I need to catch up on anyway. Besides, I want the sunscreen to sink in, I burn easily," you admitted, having applied it as soon as you got to the beach.

You were wearing a one-piece bathing suit (since it was harder for something to happen with one on), but you had thrown a thin white crop top on over it to cover your shoulders.

After Momoi asked you to get her back, you settled onto your towel, pulling your assigned literature book out of your bag, finding your page.

"Seriously, why don't you just show us what the damn thing is?" Aomine asked, settling down next to you forcefully.

"Because it's a part of my body, meaning I can show it off when I want, or cover it up when I want. Besides, I told you earlier, my soulmate doesn't want me," you said, flipping your page leisurely. "Don't need them hating me more than they already do without knowing my identity."

Aomine was clearly displeased, but it wasn't like he could argue with you about it, soulmarks were a very personal thing to some people.

"You're at the beach," he began a few minutes later, tone incredulous, "and you're reading a book. What is wrong with you?"

"A lot, which issue are you referring to?" you asked nonchalantly before he scowled at you. "I don't feel like going into the water," you told him, glaring at him over your sunglasses. "I have work to do, and this is a good time to catch up on it. Besides, shouldn't you be with the rest of the team? This was for you guys."

Aomine scowled, but stood up, heading for where the team was playing a game of beach volleyball. Or, they were attempting, none of them seemed to be having much luck with it.

"You know, not very many people can keep Dai-chan at bay as much as you're able to," Momoi said, making you snort.

"You just have to know how to deal with it. You can do it."

"But not for long, and not once he makes up his mind about something. You've kept him at bay for months, I've never been able to do that. My top score is a week."

"Does it bother you?" you asked quietly.

"No, not at all," she said, a little too quickly. "Okay, well, it bothers me a little. I've known him since we were kids, and you can handle him better than I can just after a few months, but I know why."

"Honestly Momoi, I don't think it's because we're soulmates, because he doesn't know. I think it's just I refuse to let him win at all."

"You two are definitely two of the most stubborn people I have ever met," she agreed, rolling over onto her stomach.

"I'm not sure whether that's a compliment or not," you muttered.

Momoi giggled and you smiled. It was nice, hanging out with her. It was nice to have a female friend.

"I'm a little peckish, do you want a pretzel or something from the concessions thing?" you asked, gesturing to the snack shack type thing that they had set up a few meters away.

"No, I'm all set, thank you though," she said.

"Alright, just thought I'd ask," you told her, standing up, wiping sand off your legs as you headed over with your wallet.

You dodged a pair of kids that looked like twins, who were trying to splash each other with water, and you laughed as one of them tackled the other.

"Idiot, you can't just wander off," Aomine chided as he sidled up next to you.

"I didn't," you pointed out. "I told Momoi where I was going."

Aomine frowned, glaring at a guy that stepped too close for his comfort.

"The point of this trip was so that the team could bond," you told him, "so that means that you should be over there with the team."

"You're a part of the team too right?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at you.

"Technically, yes, but I'm talking about the part of the team that plays on the court. I just tend to make sure that your ass shows up."

You glanced at Aomine, who was frowning.

"Out with it," you demanded, glancing around as you walked to make sure neither of you bumped into anyone.

"Does your mark make you uncomfortable?" he asked, carefully choosing his words.

"No," you admitted. "It's comforting actually, but there's no point in showing it off. Besides, it makes my back really hot when I'm out in the sun. That makes me uncomfortable."

You placed your order, which consisted of a fruity drink on ice and a small snack that would hold you over until lunch.

"What have you eaten today?" he asked.

"Nothing. I had coffee this morning and then left the house. I don't normally eat breakfast," you told Aomine.

"How are you alive?"

"Have you taken health classes?"

"Not what I meant, asshole," he snapped. "You're gonna run yourself into the ground."

"Aomine, I'm fine," you assured him. "Besides, I'm drinking plenty of fluids."

He frowned, but he seemed to realize it was useless to argue with you about it.

"Go back to the team, Aomine, I'm fine," you told him, shoving him towards where the boys were sitting in the sand.

You tossed your snack wrapper in a garbage can that was placed strategically, glad for the little bit of food in your stomach.

But then the kids ran by again, and one of them got you instead of their brother.

"Sorry!" he called, darting away.

Normally you wouldn't have minded, the water felt nice against your skin, but you knew that your cover-up would start to be see through, and with the breeze blowing off the water, it was sticking to your back.

You sighed, slipping it over your head as you headed for your towel.

After drying your shoulders off, you set your shirt out to dry, then began rooting around in your bag for your backup, before remembering that you had forgotten to put it in your bag before you left.

"Fuck," you muttered, glancing at where Aomine and the other boys were chatting.

You supposed that it was fine for now, but you would have to be careful if they came back over.

"Momoi, please, for the sake of our friendship, you can't say anything to the boys about this," you said when she looked over and saw your back.

"Why are you so worried about him finding out?" she asked, carefully running a hand over your back, tracing the lines of the mark.

"Because, he might be a dick, but he's a friend, and I don't want to lose that friendship because of some dumb cosmic presence that decided we were meant for one another."

"Do you love him?" she inquired.

You licked your lips, then pursed them.

"Do you love him?" she repeated.

You waited for a few moments before you confessed, "I might. Whether it's love or a crush, I can't say for sure."

She sucked in a breath.

"What?" you asked.

"You know that he likes you back, right?" she asked quietly. "You know that it has nothing to do with the Mark. It's not like he's seen it and knows that you're the woman he's going to marry."

"He'll hate me if he finds out."

"No, he won't."

"I think he will."

"How long are you going to keep this from him?" she demanded. "He at least deserves to know that you're an option!"

"I'll wait until he's married if I have to," you snapped, making her rear back. "Satsuki, in the end, this is my choice to make, and I've made it. He can't know."

"It's his decision too," she reminded you. "This isn't a one way street!"

"Right now, it is," you snarled. Then you softened your tone. "If I'm ever put in a situation where he finds out, I will let him make his own decision, but right now, it's my decision, the ball is in my court so to speak, and this is the move I'm making."

"I think it's the wrong move," she whispered.

"Luckily, it's not your move to make," you replied. "I don't mean to be cruel, Satsuki. I want him to be happy. I just don't think that he'd be happy with . . . me."

"How are you so sure?" she demanded, looking close to tears. "How are you so sure that knowing you're his soulmate would make him miserable? Why can't you accept the possibility that maybe him knowing would make him love you even more?"

You remembered all the times he had raved to you about how soulmates were bullshit. You remembered every vehement denial that he wanted to know who his soulmate was. Every venomous word and the pure hatred in his eyes.

If he looked like that just because of the idea, how would he react to the real thing? Something physical he could take his anger out on?

You highly doubted that Aomine would ever physically hurt you, but the idea still sent a shiver up your spine, despite the warm weather.

"Call it a gut feeling," you murmured, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"I just want you both to be happy," she whispered.

"I can't speak for him," you told her, "but I'm content with the way things are right now."

"Content and happy aren't always the same thing," she argued.

Something in your eyes must've told her that you weren't in the mood, because she sighed, going back to her tanning.

You laid on your back, trying to think of ways to hide the mark, but it took up the entire expanse of your shoulder blades, there was no way to hide it unless it was completely covered with a shirt or you laid on it.

"Momoi-san, (Y/L/N)-san, do you wanna come play two truths and a lie with us?" Sakurai asked.

"Sure, I would love to," Momoi said.

"What about you?"

You paused, thinking it over, before you grabbed your shirt, throwing it over your head after beating most of the sand out of it, making sure that no one saw it.

It wouldn't do much, you didn't think, but it would make you feel better all the same.

"Okay," you murmured, wandering over to fit in the circle with the boys.

They had decided that the person to their right was going to have to guess which was the lie, and you despaired to find that Aomine was on your right.

"Since the girls have now decided to join, new score," the captain said and you winced.

"Ladies first," Aomine said, giving you one of those glances that made you want to kiss him and punch him at the same time.

You decided to find a good compromise and you pinched his arm, hard.

"Okay," you murmured, trying to think. "One: when I was six, I popped my elbow out of my socket throwing a tantrum. Two: I have more than five dresses in my closet. Three: my music selection has a disturbing amount of love songs."

The others started whispering amongst themselves, and Aomine squinted at you.

"Number two has to be the lie. I've seen your music selection, and you mentioned the arm injury when you first became the manager," Aomine declared confidently.

"Wrong," you told him, grinning. "I have six dresses in my closet. I wasn't throwing a tantrum when I popped my elbow out of my socket. I fell off the monkey bars at the park."

Aomine glowered at you, and you laughed.

"You're just shitty at paying attention."

The boys were surprisingly bad at this game, either that or you were just good at guessing when someone was lying.

"One: I hate cherry lip gloss. Two: I can play the guitar. Three: I've never had a celebrity crush."

"Every girl has a celebrity crush," Aomine muttered, but then glanced back at you, frowning. "I say one is the lie."

"Nope! I can't play the guitar. I was taking lessons until I was eleven but I can't remember any of it."

"Wow, despite how much time you guys spend together, you really don't know much about her, do you Aomine?"

"Shut up," he mumbled, cheeks flushing.

Momoi, who was situated on your left, seemed to be very concerned with how good you were at guessing hers.

"That's the sixth one in a row that you've guessed right!" Satsuki cried, and you laughed.

"Sorry Momoi-san, but you're just very transparent and I'm too competitive to lose."

Aomine hadn't managed to guess any of yours, and you could feel him simmering beside you.

"Alright, since Aomine sucks at this, and (Y/F/N) is simply too good, let's change it up a little."

Suddenly, they were all going against you.

"I take it back, we all suck at this," Imayoshi muttered a few rounds later when they had yet to get one right.

"Sorry guys, I'm just good at hiding things," you said. "Remember, I've been hiding my soulmark from you all since the beginning of the year."

"That's it!" Satsuki cried, pointing at you, making you jerk towards Aomine to get away from her. "If we can get one right, just one, then you have to show us your soulmark!"

You wanted to decline, you wanted to act your way out of it, you knew what would happen if you lost, but that glint in her eyes made you want to prove her wrong.

"Deal," you told her.

"Okay, think about your answers carefully," Aomine said.

"Shouldn't they be saying that to you?" you asked him as you thought of something to say.

After listening to the ocean for a moment, you said, "One: I sleep like a baby during thunderstorms. Two: snapping turtles scare me to death. Three: I have a college age reading level."

Everyone started deliberating, and you smiled, leaning back, soaking in the sun.

"We have an answer," Imayoshi said, and you cracked open an eye.

"Shoot," you told them, sitting up.

"It's number two," he said.

The blood drained from your face.

You knew that they had taken a wild guess, but you hadn't expected them to get it right.

You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and nodded, not trusting your voice.

You took another steadying breath as you stood up, brushing yourself off, trying to control the shaking in your hands that was slowly spreading up your arms.

You vaguely heard Imayoshi telling you that you didn't have to, that you had the right to say no.

You wanted to take the out he was giving you. You wanted to act your way out of it, you wanted to try and run, and you wanted to tell them that you backed out but . . . .

But you had been keeping this to yourself for a very long time. And you wanted to know sooner rather than later whether Satsuki was right or not. You wanted to know whether this was as terrible as your mind was making it out to be.

You got a firm grip on your shirt, and you were about to lift it off, but suddenly Aomine was in front of you, his hands covering yours as he stared you down.

His eyes were boring into yours, and his hands were firm, but gentle, in their grip.

He was telling you that you didn't have to, that as much as he pried, he wasn't going to let you feel pressured into doing this.

You stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before you shook your head, lips pressed together in a hard line.

"You deserve to know," you whispered, barely able to keep your voice from shaking.

Aomine nodded, slowly moving his hands, before he settled back down where he had been.

You took one last, steadying breath, turning your back to your team.

You tugged the shirt over your head, pulling the straps of your suit to the side so that they could see the expanse of the mark across your back.

Your entire team was silent as they realized what they were seeing.

"Holy shit," someone breathed, though you weren't sure who it was.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, though you weren't entirely sure who you were apologizing to.

Momoi was suddenly in front of you, pulling the straps of your bathing suit back up.

"(Y/F/N), you're shaking," she murmured.

"I know," you told her.

"He's gone," she informed you, and you collapsed into the sand, letting out a shaky breath you hadn't known you were holding.

"How pissed with me is he?" you asked her.

"I-I don't know," she confessed. "I've . . . I've never not been able to read him. He . . . he was completely blank. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," you murmured, staring at the sand in front of you. "I should have taken the out. I should have stayed home. I knew what he was trying to do. I knew that you wanted me to tell him. I knew how he would react. And a small, foolish part of me dared to hope that I was wrong. A small, naive, stupid, masochistic part of me believed that it wouldn't matter. I should know by now that I'm rarely wrong about this kind of thing."

"But I know him!" Satsuki said, looking close to tears. "I know how he looks at you! I see the little things! I don't why he . . . ."

"Don't worry about it Satsuki," you told her, standing up, turning to your team. "Sorry guys."

You headed for your spot, gathering up your things, making sure that you had everything that you had come with, just to give yourself something to focus on.

"Are you going to be okay?" Sakurai asked.

You saw that the whole team, save one member, was standing there in various states of shock, anger, and something akin to pity.

"I knew it would happen eventually," you murmured, then told them, "I'll survive. I'll be myself at practice on Monday, promise. Have a good rest of your weekend guys."

You dug your phone out of your pocket when you were far enough away from the team.

"Hello?"

"Taiga, hey, can you come pick me up?" you asked. "Something went down with Aomine."

"I'm on my way," he said. "Hold tight. Wait, where are you?"

You sent him your location, heading for the parking lot.

By the time Kagami actually found you, you were pretty sure you had cried yourself out.

You didn't remember crying, but Kagami had taken one look at you and wiped at your cheeks.

You had gone with Aomine when he had challenged Kagami at the street court, and you had stayed in touch with the red-head slowly becoming friends with each other.

He knew about your mark as well, though he had promised to keep it to himself. He hadn't told Kuroko either, which surprised you.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"He knows," you admitted, letting him wrap an arm around your shoulders. "He saw it."

As you explained what happened, Kagami got quieter and quieter, and when you glanced at his face, you were surprised to see a serious amount of anger on his face.

"Taiga?" you asked quietly.

"I'll murder him," Kagami growled. "He's such a fuckin'-!"

"You don't have to murder him," you told the red-head, who looked shocked at your response.

"But-!"

"No, I knew it was going to happen. I knew that I would lose him, I was just trying to hold on for a little longer. He hasn't done anything wrong," you said. "I guess that means that I don't have to hide it anymore."

"He's an idiot," Kagami declared.

"I already knew that though."

"Did he even explain himself to you?"

"No. But he doesn't need to. I already know that he doesn't want me. I knew when he started pawing around about my mark. I knew, but I didn't stop him. I led myself to this point."

"Stop taking responsibility for him being a dick!" Kagami snapped. "Do you realize how many people would kill to have you as a soulmate? Or to have one like you?"

"That's not the point!" you told him. "The point is that the one person I want to want me as a soulmate, doesn't. And there's nothing I can do to fix that! Because he seemed to like me just fine thinking I wasn't anything special to him, but the moment fate steps in, I'm fucked. So unless there's a way to pretend like this mark isn't a permanent reminder that the guy that's supposed to be perfect for me, hates my guts, then I guess this is my life now!"

"Kuroko is so much better at this than I am," Kagami muttered to himself. "Look, have you tried calling him?"

"He made it pretty clear that he wanted nothing to do with me."

"Try it anyway."

"I think I'm good. My heart's been broken enough today, thanks."

"Seriously, this is fucking insane," Kagami stressed, opening a door for you. "From what I've seen, your the one person he actually listens to and hears."

"Because he didn't know what I was! I took advantage of that, and now I'm paying the price for it. I should have just told him and dealt with the consequences when I didn't want him! Now it hurts that much more and I have to watch us go back to being strangers. Maybe I should just transfer."

"Um, (Y/F/N)," Kagami said, tapping your shoulder.

"No, I'm serious! Why torture the team with our angst when I can just move schools? There are plenty in the area. Maybe I could move to Seirin. My parents-"

"(Y/F/N)!" he hissed, turning your head to look at something.

"Fuck," you muttered, locking eyes with Aomine, who had his hands thrown up like he had been using them to make a point to Kuroko, who was glancing back and forth between the two of you.

Kagami dropped his hands from your face and you took the opportunity.

You turned and bolted from the Seirin gym.

You should have been paying attention. You should have made Kagami take you home, you should've asked where you were going before.

Multiple people shouted after you, but you ignored them.

You had to get away from him, you had to make sure that he didn't think you were trying to-

Do what?

You slowed down with a sudden realization. If your life had been a cartoon there would've been breaking sound effects and skid marks behind you.

Why should you care what he thought when you had walked into that gym? He didn't care anymore, not now that he knew what you were, why should you?

Fuck what he thought!

If he wanted to let you go, who gave a fuck what it seemed like? You were friends with Kagami, and by default, Kuroko.

How were you supposed to know that he would go to Kuroko after this sort of thing?

Was it really that weird, that wrong, for you to do what you had just done?

You took a deep breath, letting yourself relax. You were probably over thinking things yet again.

A street court caught your eye and you stared at it for a few moments before heading over.

Someone had left a ball there, whether from pure forgetfulness, or a trust in humanity that someone wouldn't take it.

You pushed on it, checking the air, before you dribbled it around.

You could have gotten on a team if you had wanted, but after middle school, you had had enough of the inter-team drama, and had decided to give it up. So you had managed the boys team to be close to the sport without having to deal with a lot of the drama.

You practiced with them sometimes, when Momoi was managing and you had nothing better to be doing.

You made a few lay-ups, a few foul shots, and moved onto half court shots, soaking in the sound of the ball falling through the net.

The heat of the day was soaking through your t-shirt, soaking into the mark, and you touched it lightly, wondering what you were going to do on Monday.

You had promised the team that you would be back to normal, but would you be able to fake being okay well enough to fool them? How much would it take to fool Aomine into thinking that you were okay?

"Why him?" you asked yourself, tilting your face up to the sun. "Why did it have to be him? It could have been literally anyone else, and you chose the one guy that would never be able to love me for what I am, for what we are."

A breeze rustled the trees around you and you breathed it in, moving to leave when you caught sight of him standing in the entrance of the court.

"Shit," you muttered, looking for another way out. There was no chance that he hadn't seen you, even Aomine wasn't that much of an idiot, but you were seriously considering climbing the fence to get away when he spoke.

"I'm sorry," he started.

"No, stop, I don't want your apology," you told him, wrapping your arms around yourself, not able to look at him. "You have nothing to apologize for. I knew when I made that damn deal that I was risking our friendship, I was just tired of having to hide the damn thing. You of all people realize how much of a pain in the ass it is to cover up. And now that I think about it, it's probably better that this happened now. I can't imagine how badly it would've been if I had gotten even closer to you.

"Besides, now you're free to make your own decision. Satsuki got what she wanted in the end. Go figure, I guess. Anyway, you don't have to worry about it. You won't have to worry about me doing anything now that you know. And I already told you that if you won you would get to decide what you got for winning. You won't have to deal with me after this, I promise. I'll disappear since that's what you want."

"So when you told me I got to choose, you were basically telling me that I could choose whether I wanted you or not?"

"Yeah, pretty much, and I shouldn't've. I already knew which one you were going to choose, I was just being naive."

"That's not how it works dumbass," Aomine said.

You screwed your eyes shut, turning your head away from him.

"I know," you whispered. "Why are you even here?"

"I was looking for you, obviously," he grumbled.

"Why? I already know that you don't want this, you made that abundantly clear with your stories and reactions to me at the beach. What are you trying to do here, Aomine?"

"Trying to tell you that I like you," he stated. "But you keep trying to push me away."

"Huh?" Your eyes flew open at the words, and you stared at him.

"Idiot," he murmured, walking over.

You backed up, trying to keep the distance but he backed you against the fence.

"Do you want me to be honest with you?" he asked softly.

You nodded, wondering what the hell he was doing.

"I might be in love with you, and not because you're my soulmate," he said, which made you cock your head in confusion.

"But . . . all that stuff you said about hating soulmates and not wanting to meet yours . . . ."

"I didn't think you were my soulmate moron," he murmured, reaching out to toy with your hair. "I'm okay with it being you. I'm grateful for it actually."

The look on your face must've said it all because he sighed.

"You should've told me sooner," he told you. "I want to go out with you. No secrets, no lies, no weird games where I'm trying to get you to take your clothes off."

"You had me until that last one," you muttered, taking the hand that was playing with your hair.

He laced your fingers together before you could take your hand away.

"Sorry, I couldn't help it," he told you, wrapping his other arm around your waist. "So what do you say? Go out with me?"

You watched his face as much as you could in the crappy lighting, waiting for any sign that he was joking, waiting for him to yell 'Psych!' and walk away.

But his arm stayed wrapped around your waist, and he seemed too busy watching you to question what was taking you so long.

"If I say yes, am I going to be the laughing stock of the school?" you asked.

"No, I may be a dick, but I'm not that mean," Aomine told you.

"Okay," you whispered. "Yeah, I'll go out with you."

The smile Aomine gave you could've lit the whole court.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I hope you realize that Kagami and Tetsu think we're both crazy now," Aomine said.

"They already knew," you told him, wrapping an arm around his neck. "You have to be crazy to put up with the both of them."

Aomine snorted, nudging your forehead with his.

"I'm sorry that I ran from you," he said. "I shouldn't have done that."

You waited, sensing that he had more to say, he was just gathering his thoughts.

"I don't know what I was thinking," he muttered. "I just had to get away from my own stupidity I guess. I should have guessed that I was your soulmate. You were so on edge whenever I brought it up, but when someone else brought it up it was more like you were sick of the questions. I know you enough to know that if you reacted differently to me that it was because of me. I just . . . I acted on instinct."

"You don't have to explain anything to me Aomine," you told him, burying a hand in his hair. It was softer than you had thought it would be.

"No, you deserve an explanation. I am the whole reason you're even at Seirin."

"I was at Seirin because I wanted to talk to Kagami and that was where we ended up. We could have just as easily gone to his place or to mine."

"Tetsu's been trying for years to get me into the whole 'soulmate' thing, so he was the first person I thought of that could me explain what the fuck was going on. I wasn't upset that it was you, I was upset because you hid it from me and that you thought I was going to flip out about it. I mean, I did, but just not the way you expected."

"I figured you would yell at me, maybe push me around a little bit," you confessed. "I didn't think you were going to run like your ass was on fire to go talk to Kuroko."

"I wouldn't hurt you, for multiple reasons, the main one being I like you."

"I know, but the mind is a strange thing, and mine has a tendency to think worst case scenario first."

He hummed, and you saw the tension melt from his shoulders.

"Come on, let's get out of here," you told him. "Maybe you could go practice with Taiga and Kuroko."

"I want bread, we should go to a coffee shop or something," he suggested.

"Actually, yeah, that's a better idea," you agreed. "I really don't feel like explaining to Seirin what this whole thing was about. I'll call Taiga and explain, how about you call Momoi-san and tell her that everything's okay, 'cause she was really worried when I left."

"Yeah, I got it," he murmured, digging his phone out of his pocket, but he didn't unwrap his arm from around your waist.

"Hey, Taiga," you said when he picked up his phone.

"Where the hell are you, idiot?" Kagami asked.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you even more. Everything's fine now. Aomine kinda cornered me in a street ball court."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, we worked things out. You don't have to worry about it, I promise. We're gonna go to a coffee shop somewhere nearby. I'll call you when I get home so that you know that I got back safely."

"Alright, but if he starts being a dick again, just give me a call."

"I will, thanks for everything Taiga," you told him, ending the call.

It wasn't really explaining things, but you could always tell him about it later, which you were probably going to have to do.

"-fine, Satsuki," Aomine was saying, looking exasperated. "She wants to talk to you."

"Hi Momoi-san," you said when he handed you his phone.

"(Y/F/N)! Are you okay? Where are you?"

"Momoi-san, breathe," you ordered, laughing. "I'm fine. Aomine and I worked things out, I promise."

"Are you dating? Because if you aren't then that's not working things out!" she cried.

"Momoi-san, we worked things out," you assured her.

"So you're dating then?"

You pursed your lips and glanced at Aomine.

"You'll find out soon enough I suppose," you told her, hanging up before she could say anything else to you.

"I think she likes you more than she likes me," he said, and you could hear the repressed pout.

"Nah, you'll always be Dai-chan to her," you told him. "You're her best friend, I just happen to be someone she needs to like because of my affiliation with you."

"You make it sound like this is some sort of business thing," Aomine whined, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"I'm not used to you liking me, Aomine, you're going to have to let me adjust to this. I have been deliberately avoiding the fact that I like you all year."

"Fair enough," he muttered. "But don't expect me to be all conservative about this."

"What's this?" you asked him.

"Us, the fact that you agreed to go out with me."

"I retain all rights to pretend like I don't know you if you get too dramatic," you warned him, which made him scoff, like he wasn't expecting you to go through with it.

"Bold of you to assume that I'm joking," you said, letting his arm slip off your shoulders and he paused.

"You can't be serious," he muttered.

You kept walking.

"(Y/F/N)? You aren't serious right?" he called after you, slight panic in his voice when you didn't turn around.

"Right?" he asked.

[cinnaminsvga]

Dumbo | Jungkook (M)

→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it, but luckily you’re there to help.}

→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk, mild pain play, mutual masturbation, jungkook has piercings, accidental edging (you’ll... understand), oc doesn’t have a gag reflex lol → words: 17.2K → a/n: @jincherie... you are my enabler and i will die on this hill only if you die on it with me. but of course i know you will die with me. because we only have one braincell and if either of us die, we both do. thank you for commissioning me to write this btw... even though i was already writing this so you just basically sent me money for free. ANYWAY... WORLD IS FUCK BUT I LOVE RHA!! ALSO JUNGKOOK HAS A BIG DICK!! EPIC!!

The club lights make it difficult for Jungkook to see anything. He doesn’t understand why club owners can’t just jack up the lighting for once; it isn’t like you’re going to be able to find a hook-up through echolocation or something. Though, judging by the way people seem to be groping their way through the masses, perhaps there really is no need for illumination anyway.

Jungkook normally hates this kind of scene. Drinking is all good and fun, especially when he’s with his hyungs, but going to overly crowded places makes his skin crawl with anxiety. It takes almost three shots during pre-game for him to get anywhere near this kind of place and it’s all thanks to Seokjin. That hyung thrives in these kinds of environments, like a clipped butterfly relearning how to fly.

“I’m gonna get shit fucked wasted!” Seokjin hollers, his arm looped carelessly around the only other person who hates being here as much as Jungkook does. He watches passively as Yoongi tries to bite a chunk off of Seokjin’s hand, but despite his inebriation, their eldest hyung is able to dodge it quickly.

“Not before I kill you, then everyone else in this place, and then myself, first.” Yoongi growls, nudging Seokjin off his smaller frame. If the world hadn’t been swaying underneath Jungkook’s feet, he might have offered to help his small hyung do the deed. If there’s anyone who hates nightclubs more than Jungkook, it’s Yoongi. Jungkook is frightened to know how Seokjin managed to convince Yoongi in the first place, and he’d prefer not to find out what sort of terrible blackmail the elder must have under his sleeve to accomplish such an arduous feat.

Just as Yoongi is about to connect his steel-toed boot up Seokjin’s freshly bleached asshole, Jimin returns from the bar with three glasses held precariously in each of his fists. Jungkook wonders yet again how this is possible due to the sheer tininess of Jimin’s hands, but then again... What can’t Jimin do when it comes to alcohol?

“I’m back! Here you go, Jungkookie,” Jimin says, seamlessly handing Jungkook a glass of what he hopes is just a regular beer like he asked. Knowing Jimin, he probably ordered the strongest shit they have. He peers at it suspiciously, but it only takes half a sip for Jungkook to confirm his guess. He grimaces, nearly coughing out a lung at the strength of the poison running down his throat.

“That tasted like fucking metal polish! What the fuck, Jimin?”

“I know! It’s great isn’t it?” Jimin smiles angelically, handing Yoongi one of the drinks. Yoongi looks at the swirling piss-yellow liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe. It appears as if he’s decided something when his eyes light up.

“Oh my god, this drink is gonna kill me,” he says, not an ounce of fear in his voice. Jimin nods, not even trying to hide his deception.

“I promised the bartender a blowie if he could give me the strongest shit they had,” Jimin shrugs. “Dude literally went to the back room and took out this bottle that looked like it came from Napoleon’s secret stash of hooker piss.” He sniffs the drinks thoughtfully. “Yea, I could believe that.”

“I hate this!” Jungkook cries at no one in particular.

“Tough shit! We’re in this together!” Yoongi groans, downing the entire contents of his drink in one go before promptly being swallowed whole by the crowd. Seokjin hoots, hastily waving goodbye to Jungkook and Jimin before following Yoongi and diving into the sweaty masses like a seasoned Olympian.

“I hope they don’t die like last time,” Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to take a big gulp of his drink. It sears against his throat like a brand, which probably has an inscription saying “Jeon Jungkook has bad taste in friends.”

Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Well, like Namjoon said a while ago, we’re gonna meet by the bar in 2 hours to check if everyone is still alive and we’ll find out then. Okay, Kook?”

Jimin has reminded him of this for the umpteenth time, though he can’t blame him for being extra careful. Last time the whole gang went to the club, Hoseok had gotten stuck in an elevator at his hook-up’s place and had cried for 5 hours straight before one of them thought to look for him. The time before that, Taehyung had ingested two times his bodyweight of margaritas and he had found himself in Japan the next morning with an extra $500 in his pocket.

Yeah. They’re idiots, but at least they’re idiots who will try not to make the same mistakes as last time. Key word being “try.”

Jungkook looks around the club, but he can’t find any awkward looking lanky people anywhere. “Where is Namjoon-hyung, by the way? Haven’t seen him since we split up.”

“Who the hell knows?” Jimin laughs, the sound drowning out when the DJ suddenly decides to play a death metal version of Dance the Night Away by Twice. Jimin’s eyes light up. “Ooooh shit! This is my song! See ya later, Kook!”

“W-wait, those drinks! Aren’t they for the others––“

“Bitch, you think these are for them?” Jimin begins to double fist his alcohol with the thirstiness of a man in a desert, or a twink confronted with two dicks. Either or.

To Jungkook’s horror, the crowd has seemingly grown thrice in size since they’ve arrived and he watches as Jimin’s body is slowly getting consumed by the masses, though he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He leans into a random guy's back, a look of bliss on his face. He salutes lazily at Jungkook. “Anyway. See you in 2 hours, Kook! Try to have fun!”

Try to have fun, his ass.

Unlike Jimin, Jungkook doesn’t particularly feel like being crushed by sweaty hormonal bodies; instead, he chooses to head to the bar. He surreptitiously dumps his drink into the trash, feeling kind of bad for discarding a free drink, but Jungkook doesn’t want to get shit-fucked wasted like the rest of them are. Perhaps he’ll be the designated driver today, even though his vision is still kind of swimming. Well, he could probably walk in a straight line if he used all his brainpower. Which isn’t a lot, but you know. People learn to make do.

It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.

(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)

He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)

So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.

Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.

“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.

“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.

It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there.

“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.

Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”

Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. His eyes bug out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"

You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."

"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.

"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."

"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.

"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."

"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."

"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"

"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"

"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.

Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.

He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.

("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.

Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")

“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you.

Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”

Thunk. Was that the sound of his heart dropping out of his ass, or his brain pressing against the left side of his skull, or his dick hitting the roof? Jungkook isn’t sure, but he does know he wants to see where this night will take him.

He lets you lead the way, squeezing through sweaty bodies and elbowing a stray hand or two. Jungkook swears he feels a guy grope him on the way out, but before he can even sock the guy in the jaw, you’re already one step ahead of him. You hiss menacingly at the dudebro, raising your long acrylic nails in a show of dominance like you’re from some wildlife documentary. The guy audibly whines, running away from the two of you with his tail between his legs.

Jungkook stares at you incredulously. “How the fuck did you––”

“I’ve gone to tango classes with that dude. I have his mom’s phone number,” you explain nonchalantly. Instantly, Jungkook feels himself hardening in his pants.

You manage to get to where the washroom stalls are. You brazenly walk past the line of girls at the women’s section, but Jungkook is even more confused when you also pass by the men’s section. You turn the corner, where a bunch of tables and chairs were being kept. Then, you begin to knock down some of the extra chairs stacked against the wall, which is where Jungkook discovers there is an unused wheelchair accessible washroom.

“Why is this washroom being kept hidden?” he wonders aloud, sneaking guilty looks over his shoulder. No one seems to have noticed that the two of you are blatantly trespassing property, but you don’t look all that stressed about it.

You look at him weirdly. “Dude. You can barely walk in this club without getting groped, poked, or doped. As much as I’m all for accessibility, I don’t think wheelchair-bound people are gonna have much of a good time here.”

Jungkook feels as though he should be saying something profound about the need for establishments to be accessible or something, but the strain in his pants really wasn’t doing many wonders on his verbosity right now. Maybe next time.

You make quick work of the barricade and you get the door open in no time. You push him hastily inside, making him yelp as he tries to find his way around the darkened room. You flip the switch on somewhere behind him, illuminating the washroom to find… a toilet. That’s it.

“Well, they certainly didn’t think about interior decorating,” Jungkook says, laughing nervously as you click the door locked. He turns, watching as you pull the black elastic that was on your wrist and begin to tie your hair. You smile cheekily at him, the implications of what is about to happen very much apparent.

“Nah, they didn’t. But the room gets the job done and that’s all we want, don’t we?” You purr, taking the two short steps you need to get close to him once more. You trail a well-manicured nail down his chest, circling around his nipple teasingly but not doing anything more. His breathing turns more shallow, and he knows for sure that his eyes must look crazed to you right now.

You bring your finger lower and lower, grazing the top of his belt buckle and staying there. You look up at him, licking your lips as your gaze trails down to his own. Once again, he feels paralyzed as you take him in and he wishes for all the horny gods from above that you would finally end the torture and finally close the distance.

Taking some pity on him, you rest your lips against his throat, suckling gently enough that Jungkook knows it won’t leave a mark. His hands instantly come up to grab your waist, as if urging you to go harder, to make it hurt.

You smirk against his skin, deciding at that moment to bite down, hard. Jungkook yelps, before the sound morphs into an unabashed moan. His cheeks pinken, embarrassed at the volume of his voice.

“I-I…”

“Don’t worry, Jungkook…” you whisper, soothing the bite with your tongue. You pop off his skin, your lips slightly redder than before. “I’ll take good care of you, darling.”

See, Jungkook doesn’t doubt you in the slightest. As for his own skills at taking care of you when the time comes… now that’s a little bit of a gamble.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, per se… He lost his virginity during his last year of high school to some girl he met at a party, and suffice to say, he didn’t last long. He’s had a few girlfriends in the past, but none of them ever wanted to get with him once they saw his dick. You see, he had a bit of a problem…

He wasn’t small, by the way. Don’t get him wrong. In fact, he was kinda––

Jungkook is pulled away from his thoughts when you suddenly drop down to your knees, your hands grabbing onto his thighs for support. He’s almost worried that you’d injured yourself from how fast you’d dropped, but you don’t seem all that bothered by how deftly your fingers moved to unbuckle his belt.

When you get it loosened, your hands stop by the button of his jeans and you look up at him with expectation. Jungkook almost whines when your hands drift back to your lap.

You snort, amused. “What? You think I’m gonna do all the work here, buddy? Come on, strip for me.” you say, sitting on your haunches as you wait for him to move.

The strain in his pants was getting downright painful at this point, so Jungkook is more than eager to follow your orders. Still, his hands are shaking the entire time, so it takes him a few extra seconds before he can finally unbutton his stupid jeans and pull down his stupid zipper. Even through his loose boxers, the outline of his dick is very apparent, with a small wet spot already staining the front of his boxers a darker blue.

“Uh, I have to say a disclaimer first though,” Jungkook squeaks, suddenly shy under the intense gaze you were pointing straight at his dick. It twitches slightly, and your eyes follow it like a cat ready to pounce. “I’m… kinda on the bigger side, so I just want to ask if you’re sure––”

“Baby, I was sure even before I came to this club,” you say, trance-like. Your fists clench and unclench by your sides. “Now, shut up before I change my mind.”

“But––” Jungkook doesn’t get to finish his sentence, stunned to silence when you quite literally rip his boxers off of him like a magician trying to prove something. His dick springs up half-way, still not fully hard as it’s always taken him a little bit more goading before he can get to full mast. Yea, he was that big.

You stare at it for a moment, going cross-eyed as you stared at his tip head-on like some sort of perverse gun barrel. You don’t move for so long that Jungkook is afraid that he might have freaked you out with the size of his cock, though you wouldn’t be the first in a long shot. He’s about to apologize, prepared to pull up his pants in shame and walk home with half a log in his crotch. He’s already shifting his jeans back up when you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait. Are you, like, only half-hard right now?” you ask, voice quiet.

Jungkook flushes. “Y-yeah… It gets a little bit bigger when I’m fully… You know…” he says, trailing off.

You’re still looking at his dick, but after further assessment, Jungkook realizes that you don’t look horrified in the slightest. In fact, you look pleased. “Jesus fuck you’re huge! Like… almost abnormally so.”

Jungkook literally feels like he’s going to die (and he hates that it’s kinda making him even hornier). “I guess so?”

“That’s a fucking log! You could stand on that thing!”

“I don’t think that’s possible, but––”

“Seokjin had told me you were huge, but I didn’t believe him because, well, the way he described it was that you had a literal third leg hiding under there. Who would have thought that Seokjin isn’t full of shit after all,” you say, awestruck.

“I’m really not that big––wait, Seokjin has talked to you about my dick? What the fuck? Since WHEN?” Seokjin was just out there in the world? Telling strangers about his dick? That hyung is seriously getting smashed WWE style the next time he sees him, and it’s NOT going to be sexy.

You wave him off. “Oh, don’t worry. He doesn’t just tell anyone. He let it slip because he was defending your honor,” you shrug.

In the midst of Jungkook’s mental breakdown at the realization that one of his closest friends just told a random girl that he’s got a meter long King Kong dong, he doesn’t notice that you’ve already stood up from where you were kneeling. You pull down the toilet seat cover, seating yourself on it and rubbing your reddened knees with a pout. “Ouch. Damn, I’m not used to kneeling for men anymore. Sorry, where was I? Oh right!”

You snap your fingers together, smiling gleefully at Jungkook. “So! I dragged you in here to give you my proposition, you see. I have a deal to make with you.”

Jungkook looks down at his cock, which was still red and dripping pre-cum, before turning back to you. “And this has something to do with… my dick?”

“Precisely!” you cheer, glad that he seems to be on the same page as you when he was in fact, not. “Sorry about tricking you, by the way. I’ll suck your dick after this if you’re still game, but only if you agree with my plan.”

“Your plan?”

“Yep,” you say, popping your ‘p’ once more. “You see, I have an ex-boyfriend. His name is Lee Taeyong, ever heard of him?”

Jungkook vaguely knows the upperclassman, though he can’t say he’s ever spoken to him. “Kinda. What does he have to do with me?”

“Well, if you really heard of him, then you’d already be one step ahead. Seeing as how it’s not already connecting for you––” you point to his dick, poking the sensitive head with the grace of a 5-year old at a petting zoo, “––then you don’t know that Lee Taeyong has the biggest dick on campus. Allegedly.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook repeats. He still doesn’t follow.

“Well, I wouldn’t know either because I’ve never seen his dick, so––”

“Wait wait wait. Wait.” Jungkook’s hamster brain is running a mile a minute. There have been way too many absurdities spoken in the last five minutes and he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough to deal with your insanity right now. “Let’s dissect this one at a time, shall we? First of all, how can you not know how big your boyfriend’s dick is?”

“My ex-boyfriend. And we only dated for like three days, and I don’t fuck until a week has passed, okay? I don’t play like that,” you say as if you didn’t just lure Jungkook to this dingy washroom only to give him blue balls and trauma.

“Okay, whatever. So what if he has a big dick? What does that have to do with me?”

You roll your eyes. “How can you not understand yet? I’m on the hunt for our university’s biggest dick, of course! And you, Jungkook, might just be my ticket to the number one prize.”

There is a long pause. Jungkook stares and stares at you, waiting for you to shout “Surprise! You’re being pranked, bro!” and for all the cameramen to come out and shower him in confetti and dollar bills or something. But no, nothing like that happened. He just continues to stand there with his dick out, while you sit on a dingy toilet seat with your legs crossed comfortably as if you were just two friends having a regular conversation.

After a while, Jungkook comes to a conclusion. “You’re being serious.”

You snort, annoyed as if you were the one being inconvenienced. “Of course I am, dude. I don’t stalk just about anybody to see their dick. I’m not that insane.”

Jungkook feels as though your judgment on sanity should probably be taken with a grain of salt. “S-sure. Right. You’re definitely not insane.”

“And you have a big dick! I’m glad you can see where I’m coming from,” you say, nodding sagely. You peer at his dick once more, brows furrowed as you think deeply to yourself. “Hmm… Yea, I’d say you’d be at least equally as big as him. If all else fails, I can split the winnings and get half the amount of money if you––”

“No,” Jungkook says.

You raise your brow. “Yes?” you try.

“Yes–I mean, what? No!” Jungkook repeats, shaking his head furiously. "Are you even hearing yourself? You expect me to get into a dick measuring contest with your ex just so you can, what? Get revenge on him or something?"

"Not for revenge." You lean closer to him, face inches away from his dick but you don't seem perturbed in the slightest. "It's for money," you whisper, grinning slyly.

"Money," Jungkook repeats.

You clap your hands excitedly. "Exactly! So Taeyong and I didn't actually break up on bad terms. We only got together to make Doyoung, his crush, jealous enough to confess his feelings. But now, that dumb bitch thinks that now that he's with Taeyong, he can make fun of me for not being able to handle Taeyong's dark horse cock––"

"Can you please stop talking like an insane person," Jungkook pleads. His comment remains unheard.

"––so we made a bet that Taeyong doesn't actually have the biggest dick on campus and that I'm dating a guy with an even bigger meat thermometer than he does," you finish, snapping your fingers with a flourish. There's a twinkle in your eye: it's misplaced excitement coupled with extreme insanity, Jungkook realizes.

"That's good and all, but there's just one problem."

"What?" You tilt your head, confused.

"We're not exactly dating, are we?"

"Details, details... What Doyoung and Taeyong don't know won't hurt them," you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Of course," he says, leaning against the grimy bathroom wall. He goes to tuck Jungkook Jr. back into his pants, his dick finally softening after the last ten minutes of psychological torture courtesy of yours truly, but you're quick to slap his hand away, making him yelp in surprise.

"No! I like looking at it," you say. You stare at his dick with rapt fascination. "It's kinda like looking at a weird, deformed baby leg. Beautiful, but haunting all at once."

Jungkook huffs, staring at you in equal parts disbelief and awe. If he thought Seokjin was mentally unhinged, then you're definitely on your way towards uncharted psychotic territory. It was kind of amazing how you could just say shit without any brain to mouth filter, in your own twisted way. "Listen, lady. I don't even fucking know what your name is, but I am not helping you win some stupid bet and showing my dick to even more strangers than I have to, okay?"

You consider him, lips pursing slightly. "Why, do you have any other plans this weekend?"

Jungkook falters. "I... No, I don't––"

You shrug your shoulders, as if that's the end of that problem. "Then it's settled! I don't see why you can't just do this out of the goodness of your heart?"

"For the last time, I won't do it even if––"

"I'll split the prize with you? 50/50? That's $1000 for having a huge dick! Every incel's wet dream!"

Jungkook pauses in his rant, choking on his spit. His jaw drops comically, unsure if he heard you right. "Did you say one... grand?"

Hook, line, and sinker. You know you caught him the moment his eyes bugged out of their sockets. You smirk, crossing your arms triumphantly as you gaze upon his desperate and broke college ass (and dick). “So? Having second thoughts?"

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He tries to wrap his head around the number, unsure if he should be worried about how ready he is to drop his pants for money. Have I completely lost it? Am I that much of an idiot? he wonders, but then again… He’d be an even bigger idiot for letting free money go down the drain.

“Where is this money even coming from?” he asks, even though he knows his guard is already dropping quickly.

You wave your hand flippantly. “Oh, Doyoung is filthy rich. I imagine that $2000 is nothing to him,” you say, picking at a hangnail. “It’s not much money to me either, but my pride is mostly at stake here. If you want, you could take all the money as a prize, so long as you make that bitch eat his heart out.”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch and he knows that you notice. “Two… thousand…” He accidentally moans, gripping his thighs to prevent himself from nutting. “That’s…”

You tilt your head, arching a brow. “Not enough? I could put in an extra $500 if you’re really against this whole thing. To be fair, I wouldn’t wanna expose my coochie to a random person either––”

“Two thousand five hundred? Are you fucking insane?” Jungkook exclaims, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, but it still feels like his lungs are on fire.

“Okay, three grand it is but I’m not going any higher than that,” you huff, shaking your head. “Mr. Jeon, you really do drive a hard bargain, though I always notice that well-endowed men tend to think they deserve the universe, so I’m not surprised.” You chuckle to yourself, as if anything about this situation is worth laughing at. Jungkook feels like that one time he had inhaled an entire helium balloon in one breath when he was younger: kinda nauseous but also kinda euphoric. Is it bad that his dick is stirring awake right now? Hello?

You put your hand out, looking at him expectantly. “Well? Do we have a deal or not?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath and accesses his options carefully. Does he:

Give up his low self-esteem for money and enter an actual dick-measuring contest with some stranger;

There is no other option. Jungkook wants money.

He exhales, a migraine already throbbing incessantly in the back of his skull. He thrusts his hand forward, gripping yours harshly in a firm handshake. “I’m in,” he says, without missing a beat. Your smile brings a shiver down his back, and he can’t help but wonder if this is what Judas felt like when he betrayed Jesus, except he’s betraying no one but his own self-worth.

Well, he always did wonder how much his life was worth and three grand doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch. Oh well.

“Nice,” you chuckle, seemingly vibrating from excitement. You slip behind him, grabbing his phone from the back pocket of his jeans (which were still, by the way, pooled around his thighs because his dick was still out. Just to remind you guys in case you forgot. OP doesn’t want you to ever forget about it.) You flick open his phone, cackling maniacally when you realize he doesn’t even have a password on.

Jungkook squawks. “Hey, what are you––”

“I’m saving my number on your phone,” you explain. He can barely see what you were typing into his phone contacts, but he doesn’t miss the way you attach a heart emoji beside your name. You open his texts, sending yourself an octopus emoji that just so happened to be Jungkook’s most frequently used emoji. You snort. “Octopus emoji, huh? Seems appropriate… Can’t help but think it was a sign that this might have been destiny.”

“I just like takoyaki…” Jungkook defends himself sulkily.

“Yea? Well I like cock,” you say. You pause, furrowing your brows. “Oh, I meant to say chicken. Same thing.”

You hand back his phone, grabbing your small purse that you had thrown aside onto the washroom floor. You straighten your dress, looking to all the world as if you hadn’t just offered a stranger three grand to show his dick. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook. I expect to see you soon, maybe this weekend if you’re free. I’ll text you the details of when we’ll meet next. Toodles!” you wave, sending him a flying kiss for extra measure. Jungkook’s eye twitches, and he wonders not for the first time tonight if he was trapped in a coma and was slowly passing away.

Just as you are about to head out the door, you stop in your tracks, turning back to face him. You give him a curious expression, gaze dragging downwards until you were staring down the barrel of his dick once more. “Hey, sorry about leaving you hanging like that, by the way. I would love to help you finish, but I have a ride to catch. Raincheck?”

Not waiting for an answer, you saunter away with a spring in your step. The door swings back closed, leaving Jungkook alone for the first time in what feels like forever: just him, his dick, and the promise of three thousand dollars on the horizon.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Jungkook groans, sliding down to the floor. He fists his cock in his hand, groaning loudly when he feels the pleasure jolt up his spine like electricity. As he listens to the sounds of his heavy breathing and the slick mess in his hands, he can’t help but wonder if Jimin was right… Maybe he did have a thing for insane hot girls who were out to kill him.

x x x x x

After Jungkook cleans himself up, he marches out of the washroom with as much dignity as he can muster. Which is to say that he walked out of there with his head bowed in shame, meekly navigating the crowded club in search of his friends.

It isn’t hard, considering that Jimin was currently hanging on the fucking ceiling from a disco ball. A group of men stand at the bottom, all of them eagerly eyeing his fat ass as Jimin dangerously humped the shiny ball of metal like his life depended on it.

“Okaaaay guys! The moment this disco ball drops, whoever catches me first gets to fuck me tonight so try your best to grab me~!” Jimin singsongs from his perch, howling madly as all the horny motherfuckers scramble all over each other, desperate to catch him lest he meets his maker.

“I. Hate. My. Life.” Jungkook sighs, striding past the group of men easily with his superior upper body strength. “Move, incels. This twink isn’t letting any of you simps touch his ass. He just likes the attention.”

“Aww, Jungkookie! Don’t ruin my fun~! Unless you wanna catch me and we can finally fu––” Jimin screams mid-sentence, just as the cord holding him and the disco ball snaps. All the guys step over themselves to catch him, but Jungkook is stronger and faster. He catches Jimin mid-air, snatching him in an instant and hoisting him over his shoulder. Everyone cheers and hollers, clapping for him as Jimin continues to giggle hysterically into his back.

“Yay! Jungkookie is gonna fuck meeeee,” Jimin pats him on the ass, but Jungkook ignores him. He goes around the club, searching for the rest of his friends until he has five dangling bodies hanging off his body like some six-headed freak.

Well, it’s soon going to be five-headed after he beheads Seokjin, whom Jungkook is certain just vomited all over the back of his jeans.

“I can’t fucking find Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook grits his teeth, his nose assaulted by the stench of Namjoon’s armpit as the elder contorts himself into a more comfortable position. “Stop fucking moving, you long-legged bastard. Why’d you have to be born with such good body proportions?”

“And why are you so hot, Jungkook?” Taehyung swoons from somewhere underneath Hoseok, who seems to be either passed out or dead; Jungkook didn’t pause to check for a pulse.

“Pretty sure Yoongi went home,” Seokjin slurs, a second wave of nausea hitting him as he struggles to keep the alcohol inside of him a bit longer. “Ugh… Said he saw his roommate and they went home together.”

“God, it better be his fucking roommate and not another person trying to sell his organs again.” Jungkook sighs. “Either way, we’re all going home. We’ve done enough damage for tonight.”

“Jungkookie, did you have any fun at all tonight? Didn’t see you around,” Namjoon quips, managing to wriggle out of Jungkook’s grip and fall face flat on the curb. He whines pathetically, not making a move to stand up again. “Ugh. I didn’t even drink a lot tonight so why...?”

“It’s because you’re Namjoon,” Jungkook supplies helpfully. He lets the rest of his friends down, making sure they are leaning against the wall for support (or sitting against the wall in Hoseok’s case). “Alright, I’m calling cabs. Seokjin-hyung, I’m staying over at your place tonight.”

Jimin, who was already slowly falling asleep where he stands, perks up in attention at that. “Wait, you’re coming home with me and Seokjin? Are we reaaaally gonna fuck?” Jimin tries to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but to Jungkook, it just looks like he’s having a stroke.

“I’m done nutting for tonight. We are sleeping once we get home and that’s it,” Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms.

“OOOOOOOH? JUNGKOOK GOT FUCKED AT THE CLUB!”

“GET IT BOY!”

“OH SHIT HE FINALLY USED HIS PURPLE-HEADED YOGURT FINGER!”

“DAMN DUDE? DAMN? DAMN?”

“AW, YOU FUCKED SOMEONE WITHOUT ME?”

Jungkook swears he had heard Hoseok speak amidst the yelling from his friends, but his hyung still remains mysteriously hunched over and dead to the world. “None of your businesses. Anyway, a cab is coming soon and I swear to God, if any of you piss or vomit in that poor man’s vehicle, I will make sure none of you live to see the light of day, okay?”

Jimin turns to Taehyung, who just happened to be beside him. “Not gonna lie, but I kinda jizzed in my pants just now. That was kinda hot.” Taehyung only nods in agreement.

An hour and thirty minutes later, Jungkook manages to get the last of his idiot friends home, leaving only him, Seokjin, and Jimin as they tiredly trudge up the steps to the apartment. It takes an additional twenty minutes for Seokjin to figure out where he’d left his keys, only for Jimin to raise his finger for them to wait as he hid behind some bushes while unbuckling his jeans. When he comes out of the bushes, pantless, he has a key raised with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Don’t ask where I keep this,” is all he says and Jungkook is glad that he had rejected Seokjin’s offer to permanently move in as their roommate.

They all stumble into the apartment, with Seokjin falling immediately onto the couch. He curls up into a little ball, snoring the moment his eyes shut. Jungkook wants to shake him awake, eager to interrogate him about what happened between you and him just a few hours ago at the club. Even if he wanted to wake him up, Jungkook is sure nothing can rouse the elder; this fact is confirmed when Jungkook dumps water on him, only for Seokjin to keep sleeping soundly like a baby.

“Well, hyung is dead. Guess it’s time for me to die too,” Jimin says sleepily, the horniness and insanity from the club already wearing off. He pats Jungkook gently on the head, pointing towards Seokjin’s room. “Sleep there. I’ll hand you an extra blanket because I wouldn’t trust that hyung’s sheets. Let’s sleep, yeah?”

Left with no other choice, Jungkook heads to Seokjin’s bedroom, jumping onto the unmade sheets and pretending not to notice the crusty unknown substance on the corner of the bed. He can’t fall asleep, not when he’s left haunted by the weight on his chest (and dick). Jungkook fiddles with his phone, staring wide-eyed at the name displayed tauntingly on his screen.

Y/N L/N.

He was gonna have a nightmare tonight, that’s for sure.

x x x x x

Jungkook wakes up early, much to his chagrin. He’d really like to stay dead to the world for much longer, but the smell of coffee brewing and bacon cooking is kind of a hard deal to pass up. Jungkook shifts in bed, cringing when he realizes he went to sleep in his jeans, and more importantly, that his pants felt a lot stickier than he remembered.

He lifts the blanket up, confirming his suspicions. “Fuck!”

Well, guess he didn’t have much of a nightmare last night after all.

He shucks off his clothes, disgusted by the mess he finds in his underwear. He hobbles over to Seokjin’s closet, cringing when he finds only one (1) clean pair of shorts left, which just so happened to have “PEE IS STORED IN THE BALLS” stamped on the back in cursive font. Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes.

Jungkook tiptoes out of the bedroom, confronted with the sight of Jimin pouring three mugs of coffee and Seokjin still slumped over the couch, a substantial amount of drool dripping down from the side of his mouth and forming a puddle on the floor. Jungkook takes a photo, saving it for later.

“Morning,” Jimin smiles from the kitchen, offering Jungkook one of the cups. Jungkook is certain that Jimin has no recollection of the events from last night, though such is Park Jimin’s way of life. He drinks to get fucked up, then he forgets, and then the cycle repeats itself anew. Jungkook wonders how Jimin always manages to wake up without a hangover, though God might have just given him a super liver in compensation for his lack of height.

“Hyung is still dead,” Jungkook states plainly, walking over to Seokjin and peering at him closely. Jungkook sticks a finger into his agape mouth, collects some of his spit, and then proceeds to give him the wettest willy of his life. Still no response.

“Let me try,” Jimin says, sauntering over to Seokjin with one of the cups of coffee. Jimin leans down, hums gently into his ear. “Hyung, wake up. We have coffee for you!”

Seokjin mumbles incomprehensibly in his sleep, snuggling deeper into the couch stuffing. Jimin tilts his head, still smiling. Then, he dumps the scalding cup of coffee all over Seokjin’s crotch.

In an instant, Seokjin screams with the pitch of a banshee, swinging his arms wildly about and nearly knocking himself out with his own fist. Jungkook and Jimin watch passively from the sidelines, waiting for the elder to finish fanning his nutsack before greeting him a pleasant morning.

“WHY ARE YOU BOTH LITERAL DEMONS?” Seokjin hollers, jumping to his feet with his scorched balls and all. Taking pity on him, Jungkook walks over to the fridge, tossing his hyung a bag of ice. And by toss, it’s more like he pitches the bag straight into his dick with the ease and speed of a seasoned baseball player, eliciting another round of pained howls.

“YOU––ASS––” Seokjin seethes, clutching the bag of ice to his nether regions. He sits down on the adjacent loveseat, expression contorting as he cups his balls gingerly. “God, it’s almost like you guys don’t think I deserve basic human decency.”

“That was just a small part of my revenge for you, after you gave my contact details to an insane woman,” Jungkook sneers, miming a punch onto Seokjin’s handsome face. Seokjin doesn’t even flinch, too busy staring at Jungkook’s legs.

“Hey, are you wearing my thot shorts?”

Jungkook looks down at the neon pink monstrosity around his hips. “You call these your thot shorts?”

Seokjin shrugs. “I got dicked down in them once. You should try.”

“Oh, did I hear something about revenge? I smell tea in here,” Jimin says, coming back from the kitchen with his own cup. “Well, I have coffee but same shit. What happened?”

“This––” Jungkook points an accusatory finger at Seokjin, “––asshole sent my location information to an insane stalker lady last night after he told her that I had a huge dick!”

Seokjin squints at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Y/N! She said you told her about how big my dick was and when she asked you where I was, you told her I was going to the club with you last night!”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on Seokjin’s face, which was quickly replaced by incredulity as he stares at Jungkook. “I assumed she asked for your contact details because she had a crush on you. I was just trying to get you some pussy, bro.”

“Yeah, Kook. Not gonna lie, but I’d be dicking down girls left and right if I had a dick as big as yours,” Jimin says, eyeing the bulge in his teeny tiny shorts with interest. “In fact, I’d probably be a top if I had a dick as big as yours.”

Seokjin laughs, nearly shooting out phlegm from the strength of it. “Oh god, don’t tell me. You couldn’t get your dick hard again? Don’t worry bro, if I had a dick as big as yours, it’d take ages for it to fill up too.”

Jungkook flushes, stomping his foot in embarrassment. “That! Wasn’t the problem! The problem is––”

“––that Jungkook nuts too quickly because he doesn’t have any practice,” Jimin tuts sadly, patting the younger with a pitiful expression. “Don’t worry, Kook. Hyung is open to giving you some pointers.”

“That’s not it either!” Jungkook screams, groaning in annoyance. “She came up to me because she offered to pay me $3000 to enter a dick-measuring contest!”

Jimin and Seokjin tilt their heads in tandem, still not getting it. “So?” they both chorus, giving him a blank-eyed stare.

“Are you guys out of your mind? I got bribed into showing my dick to some strangers like some kind of weird prostitute!”

“It’s not prostitution if you’re not engaging in sexual activity,” Jimin muses, taking a long sip from his coffee. He shrugs his shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t see how this is a problem. You show some girls your dick, and you get money. Dudes would kill to be in your position.”

“Oh my God, don’t tell me,” Seokjin leers at Jungkook, and the younger almost can’t stop himself from landing another blow against the elder’s abused crotch. “You got roped into some bukkake orgy and now you’re asking your hyungs to help you? Don’t worry, Jungoo… You came to the right people. You see, Jimin and I have some experience with––”

“LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Jungkook jams his fingers into his own ears, screaming hysterically to drown out the sounds of Seokjin and Jimin’s combined laughter. Jungkook pouts at them, glowering pathetically. “Seriously, hyungs! Do you not see how fucked up this is? Who follows a stranger to a club, pretends they’re going to give you a blowjob, only to offer 3K for you to show some strangers your dick?”

“A regular Friday night if you ask me,” Jimin says, shrugging once more. Jungkook stares at him, realizing that maybe it was the wrong idea being friends with these two lunatics in the first place. Knowing Jimin, he’d probably been in much more lewd and compromising situations than Jungkook will ever have. Rumor has it that Jimin had once done a keg stand while having his dick sucked while on vacation in Japan.  

“Well, if you were really against it, then you could have just said no?” Seokjin points out, wagging a finger at him. “I know Y/N, and yeah she’s kind of demented, but she still knows that no means no. Surely, you haven’t considered the fact that you are 1) a pushover and 2) horny for her?”

“Well, yea––No, what––No!” Jungkook splutters, stammering wildly. His two hyungs grin salaciously, gazing at him knowingly. Jungkook can only groan, as he knows that they kind of have a point. He’s always been too weak for girls and money, so when you put those two things together…

“I might be addicted to the BBC tag on Pornhub, but you my friend… You’re in it for the BBCC,” Jimin snickers, patting Jungkook comfortingly on the back. Jungkook groans into his hands, slumping onto the loveseat beside Seokjin, whose icepack had long since melted and caused the seat to be uncomfortably damp.

“BBCC? I’m almost too afraid to ask.”

“Big black credit card,” Seokjin pipes up, wrapping his own arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. We all have been there.”

That’s the problem: somehow, Jungkook finds himself much too ready to accept his fate, eagerly awaiting when you’ll text him next.

x x x x x

After a much-needed shower at Jimin and Seokjin’s place, Jungkook tiredly makes his way to the nearby bus stop, ready to go home and sleep the entire weekend away. Screw his Biochemistry midterm on Monday––if he really is going to whore himself out to you, then he’s going to need all the self-care and therapy that he can get. His phone itches in the pocket of his shorts (yes, he’s still wearing the thot shorts), and he wonders if he should text his therapist and ask for an extra appointment later in the day.

Just as he’s about to pull out his phone, he senses it vibrate once, twice. He freezes in his steps, walking out of the way of busy pedestrians on the sidewalk and into a random clothing store. He sees the lone cashier staring at him from the corner of his eye, but he does not check if her gaze is filled with disgust or disgust. Probably disgust, he surmises.

Flicking his phone on, he sees two new messages from you and his heart immediately starts to hammer in his chest. No one has ever made Jungkook equal parts scared and excited, though he imagines you might have that effect on most people, what with how you look like the type to tie up unsuspecting victims to harvest their organs in your summer cottage up in the mountains or something. Or maybe that’s just Jungkook projecting.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey! sorry for taking so long to text you. my roommate tried to make cheesecake at 3am last night and i had to supervise in case he burned down the apartment.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ anyway, i was wondering if you were free later? some time after 5 maybe? let me know!

You already want to meet so soon. Jungkook exhales heavily through his nostrils, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself. Alright, this is fine. Jungkook is a big boy: he can handle going to a girl’s home without losing his mind. You didn’t say anything about this being the actual dick-measuring contest yet, so he can only assume this is just you asking for something else. Maybe to talk more? Maybe he’ll get a down payment for the prize money? Maybe you’ll follow through on your raincheck? God, is it wrong for him to have his dick plumping up in his shorts when you haven’t even done anything to him yet?

(On the contrary, you could say that you have done a lot for him over the past twenty four hours, though maybe not in the way most people would expect.)

from: jjk yeah i can meet you at 5. what’s this for?

from: y/n l/n ❣️ oh, nothing! i just wanted to talk to you about the actual competition and stuff. plus, i want to actually measure your dick, just so i can see how much you’re actually packing down there ;)

from: jjk ….yeah, fine. whatever.

(This really isn’t a “whatever” type of situation, but honestly, Jungkook doesn’t really know what to say anymore. He’s officially lost his singular brain wrinkle. He’s smooth brain McGee over here.)

You follow up by sharing your location with him, and he’s surprised to find that you aren’t that far away from where Jungkook was right now. He really did mean to go back to his apartment first and get changed into something more… morally acceptable, but since he hasn’t been arrested yet for public decency, he should be okay with going to your place in Seokjin’s thot shorts.

There’s something invigorating about going to your place, dressed the way he is… Maybe the shorts are somehow giving him brain hemorrhage by indirect association with Seokjin. Either that or Jungkook simply loves torturing himself by embarrassing himself constantly. Well, at least he showered and combed his hair before leaving his hyungs’ place.

He inputs your address into his phone map, taking his sweet time as he walks the short distance to your apartment. As he passes by the buildings and street corners, he can’t help but think that he might have been around this area before. He tries to rack his brain, forcing himself to remember why this route seems so familiar.

“Oh right. Yoongi-hyung’s new apartment should be around here,” he muses to himself. He wonders if his hyung had gotten home safely last night. He should probably text him to make sure, but he’s got a literal dick appointment to attend to first, so he’ll remember to check up on Yoongi once he finishes up with you.

Does that make him a shitty friend? Probably. But would Yoongi do the same if Jungkook was in his shoes? Probably.

Yeah, Jungkook and his group of friends aren’t exactly role models for a sensitive and loving relationship, though that’s not much of a surprise to anyone.

He arrives at a decent looking apartment complex, complete with its own little water fountain at the entrance. He walks through the automatic sliding doors, peers at the shiny caution tape barring him from using the elevator. He stares at your address on his phone, groaning loudly when he sees “1603” much to his annoyance.

“No wonder she had such great thighs,” Jungkook mutters angrily to himself, preparing himself for the long and arduous journey his glutes are going to endure.

Years later, Jungkook finds himself at your door, his lungs jumping out of his throat as he struggles to catch his breath. He hunches over, elbows digging into his thighs as he wipes the sweat trailing down his neck. He can see your door just near the end of the hall, but just as he’s about to crawl his way over––

“Oh. Oh my,” a familiar voice says from behind him, and Jungkook looks over his shoulder to see…

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook exclaims incredulously, mouth gaping at the sight of his thought-to-be-dead hyung coming out of the elevator. He splutters for a few more moments before pointing an accusing finger at Yoongi. “You used the elevator?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, turning to look at the elevator with a thoughtful look. “Oh right. The elevator works. The maintenance people just forgot to remove the safety tape from last week.” Yoongi looks back at Jungkook, gaze lowering to his legs. “I see that Seokjin has provided you with his thot shorts.”

Jungkook doesn’t even try to cover himself, used to his friends seeing him in varying degrees of undress. Like, what was Yoongi going to do? Take a photo of him and post it to his Twitter for his thousands of followers to see? He wasn’t that cruel...

Snap! Yoongi pockets his phone quickly, clearing his throat. “So,” Yoongi walks up closer to him, peering at Jungkook curiously. “What brings you to my apartment? Not that I’m happy to see you, but I assumed you and the rest of our idiotic gang would have died of alcohol poisoning the night before.”

“...It’s a long story,” Jungkook says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Say... Where did you go last night, by the way? I tried to look for you, but Seokjin said your roommate brought you home?”

“Yeah. She went to the club with a bunch of her friends. She offered me a ride with her because she knew how much I hated it there,” Yoongi says, frowning. “Fuck you, by the way.”

“What the fuck? What the hell did I do?”

“I don’t know. You’re wearing Seokjin’s shorts and my ape brain told me to retaliate out of instinct,” he explains. He takes another long, good glance at his shorts. “Color me surprised that they fit you, by the way. I’d assume your huge ass would be making it rip the seams, or perhaps your dick would be saying hello.”

Jungkook pats his junk proudly. “I know, right? Big guy decided to cooperate, for some reason.”

“Will you guys stop yapping it up out in the hall? I’m pretty sure Mrs. Sy can hear you two idiots from the first floor,” a voice from behind Jungkook hisses, causing the two boys to jump up in surprise. Lo and behold, your head is peeking out from behind your door, a perfectly stenciled eyebrow arched in annoyance. “Well? Are you two coming in or what?” You return back to your apartment, assuming that they’d soon follow.

Yoongi looks at Jungkook. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Jungkook looks at Yoongi. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Yoongi squints his eyes. “She’s my roommate. She’s a mutual friend of––”

“––Seokjin,” Jungkook finishes. The two of them pause, a metaphorical light bulb glowing above their heads.

“Ah.”

“Ah.”

“I see. The demoness has roped you into some hare-brained scheme, hasn’t she?” Yoongi nods sagely, rubbing his beardless chin. “Can’t say I feel sorry for you since I have to live with the wench.”

Jungkook grimaces. “Man. She’s insane around you too?”

Yoongi shrugs, walking over to your shared apartment. “I’m dating Seokjin, remember? Everyday, I suffer. Everyday, I feel my arm.”

When Jungkook steps into your apartment, he can’t help but be a little surprised. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected to see a medieval torture chamber in the middle of a metropolitan city, but he wouldn’t put it past you to somehow make it happen. Instead, he finds a fairly cozy-looking home, with comfy couches and filled bookshelves, complete with a small balcony that had a few fresh herbs growing in little pots. It looks…

“Yoongi-hyung. You definitely decorated, didn’t you?” Jungkook snorts, fingering the little kitty-patterned throw blanket draped on your couch. It’s soft and expensive, and definitely something only Yoongi would buy. The elder doesn’t even bother looking embarrassed; he just throws Jungkook the middle finger as he walks towards the kitchen.

You come out once more from one of the connecting rooms at the other end of the apartment, presumably your bedroom. You motion for Jungkook to come in. “Yoongi, you’re gonna bake all day, right? Mind if you let Jungkook and I speak alone in my room?”

Yoongi waves his hand disinterestedly. “Whatever. If you guys are gonna be freaky in there, I’m gonna start playing clown music to drown you guys out, alright? And I mean the remix versions with the extra clown honks.”

You roll your eyes. “Yea, yea. We get it. Grandpa needs his special time alone too.”

Jungkook’s heart jumps when you don’t even bother correcting him. Does that mean you guys really were going to do something freaky? Hopefully, Yoongi has learned to differentiate screams of terror from screams of pleasure, though it’s hard to tell if he’d care otherwise.

He follows you into your room and immediately notices the perfectly made bed and the neatly organized desk. Your curtains are drawn close, but the sheerness of it allows the mid-afternoon sun to brighten the room regardless. Your bedroom smells faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and he notices the small scented candle still smoking from when you’d put it out.

Nothing in the room indicates that he was inside the room of a psychopath, though maybe Namjoon or Taehyung would argue that anyone who makes their bed every day might be a little out of it. Jungkook continues to stand awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next except to stare.

You plop onto your bed, giving him an expectant look. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there by the door and have Yoongi see us measure your dick or what?” That gets Jungkook to move. He closes the door, pausing for a second before locking it for good measure. Then, he takes the short two steps that he needs to stand right in front of you.

You crane your neck, appraising him silently as he fidgets from the weirdness of it all. Your gaze trails down and Jungkook is not surprised when you stop to stare at his neon pink shorts. You snort, thumbing the edge of his shorts lightly. Jungkook shivers even though you’re barely touching him and he knows that you notice.

“Trying to get back at me for leaving you with blue balls yesterday?” you muse, letting go of the thin material. Jungkook wants to bring your hand back to his thigh, but he forces himself to keep still.

He looks down. “Not really? But I mean… Is it working?” He can’t help the hopeful lilt in his voice.

You laugh, patting him lightly on the thigh. “No worries, Jungkook. I did promise you a little something last night, right? I admit it was shitty of me to leave you like that, despite what you already might think of me. You probably think I’m just some insane bitch, right?”

Jungkook stares at you. “Do you want me to be honest or...?”

You roll your eyes, but you seem more amused than anything. “Save it. I know I’m weird. But, a promise is a promise…” You trail off, winking at him. “Besides, this works out for the both of us, right? I wanted to measure your dick before we meet up with Taeyong and Doyoung tomorrow, and I can help you blow your rocks right after. Seems like a deal?”

“Is it bad that I’m so ready to have you suck me off that I’m honest to God accepting your offer without any sense of dignity?”

You consider him for a moment. Then, “Nah. I know dudes who would do worse things for three grand and to have their dick sucked. I’d say you’re just doing you.” You place your hands back on his hips, thumbing around the garter of his shorts.

Jungkook groans, not even flinching when you rip his shorts and boxers off in one rough flourish. His soft dick dangles heavily between his thighs. “See, I’m not entirely comforted knowing that you agree with my moral dilemma.”

You clap your hands together, excitement glittering in your expression. “Who cares! Let’s get you all hard and ready, shall we?”

Jungkook squirms under your gaze, getting dick stage fright. “H-hey… This isn’t like porn… I can’t just get hard when I want to, you know? I need… stimulation or some shit.”

You nod, humming thoughtfully. “You’re right… And I remember you said something about taking a long time to get fully hard, right? That’s gonna be a problem indeed.” You lean forward, “So. Tell me, Jungkook. What are your kinks?”

If Jungkook was drinking water, he’s sure he’d be doing a spit take right now. Instead, he just chokes on his own saliva, coughing out his lungs at your sudden inquiry. “M-my kinks? What for?”

“To get you hard, duh.” You leave featherlight grazes around his thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It stirs something inside Jungkook, but not enough to do anything yet. You tsk, your brow crumpling as you decide what to do next. “What if I…”

You dig your nails into the meat of his thighs and inadvertently pull him closer. He stumbles forward, his breath knocked out of him despite how little you’d done so far. “W-wait,” he wheezes, shock running down his spine. “I––”

You smirk at him, digging harder until you’re sure to leave white little crescents littered around his thigh. “Aha. I guessed you’d be into that. You liked it when I bit you yesterday, didn’t you?”

Jungkook can’t even answer. He’s trying to keep his breathing steady, squeezing his eyelids shut. He hears you shuffling in front of him, and he soon senses your body press closer to him, alerting him that you have stood up. You wrap your arms around his neck, bending his head down until he can feel your breath fan across his lips.

Are you going to kiss him? But the contact doesn’t come; instead, your hands snake up to his hair, massaging his scalp for a moment before tugging on his roots harshly. It pulls a whine from his lips, the response surprising even himself. “S-shit,” he grits his teeth, urging you to do it again. He opens his eyes slightly, sees you watching him with rapt attention.

You lick your lips, looking at him like a meal ready to be eaten. The heat in his stomach builds, but Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. He doesn’t really have any more room in his brain anymore other than his unabashedly horny thoughts.

“Pain slut, huh? Somehow, it suits you.” You sound breathy, as if you were the one being pleasured instead. It makes Jungkook’s cock twitch a little, coming to life in front of you as you continue to assault his nerves.

“Do you like pain everywhere?” Your hands leave his head, coming down to the edge of his shirt. It’s a silent request, and Jungkook allows you to lift up his sweater, leaving him completely bare before you. You throw it somewhere to your right, eyes raking him up and down. Something about you still being fully clothed makes Jungkook’s inside light on fire, and it rushes blood down south before he can even understand why.

You chuckle, looking at his hardened nipples with interest. “Pierced? What a naughty boy you are.” You flick him there experimentally, and when Jungkook’s breath hitches, that gives you a go sign to do more. You fiddle around with the rosy bud some more, circling it with the pads of your fingers until Jungkook was a whining mess before you. “Sensitive… What a prize you are, Jungkook.”

Jungkook keens at the praise, even though he knows you didn’t really mean it in a good way. He finds himself wanting to please you: to get himself hard for you, to make you want him like how he wants you. He honestly can’t tell if you’re enjoying this as much as him, other than the way you’re watching him closely like a hawk.

He’s nearly half-hard, his cock jutting against your stomach. You peer down, figuring out your next move as he holds his breath, afraid he might do something wrong. Your fingers move once more, tracing shapes across his stomach and causing the muscles there to contract. He anticipates your next movements, his dick steadily throbbing.

“I suppose the easiest way to get you hard is to touch you here, right?” you murmur lowly. You grip him by the hips all of a sudden, your thumbs placed firmly into his Adonis’ belt. You inch closer and closer to where he wants you the most, and you watch him amusedly as he clamps down on his bottom lip, unwilling to sound desperate so early in the game.

(Was it early though? He’s been thinking about this exact scenario since last night, even plaguing his dreams. Still, it wouldn’t look cool if he just… busted a nut just from having his dick out. Even he knew that was kinda sad.)

Despite his best efforts, perhaps the desperation is apparent on his face because you eventually do take pity on him. You wrap your fingers around his length, not moving just yet. You smile secretly to yourself when you hear Jungkook exhale and swallow audibly, but you’re waiting for something. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently as if you didn’t have his dick in your hands.

“What do good boys say when they want something?” You’re fishing, but your teasing tone breaks Jungkook down enough to release a ragged moan. He places his hands on your shoulder, using you for support as you slowly inch your hand down to the base of his cock.

He can’t keep the whine out of his voice when he says, “P...Please. Move?”

Your grin is wicked. “Of course, baby.”

Yeah, if you keep this up, Jungkook is going to come embarrassingly fast and he doesn’t think you’ll be quite pleased with that.

There is pre-cum leaking at the tip of his cock, dangerously close to pooling over and dripping all over your carpet. You are quick to swipe it off with your thumb, dragging it down his shaft for an easier slide. Jungkook’s abs tense, his teeth clamping on his bottom lip so aggressively that he almost splits it open. His grip on your shoulders tighten, but you don’t mind. You keep stroking him languidly, not going fast enough for Jungkook’s liking, but the concentration on your face is enough to make Jungkook release a stilted moan. It doesn’t take long until the wet squelch of your hand jerking him fills the room, coupled with the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing.

“You’re really wet,” you chuckle, watching with fascination as your words urge another drop of pre-cum to collect at his tip. “Are you always like this?”

“N-not… Really?” It takes a while for Jungkook’s brain to connect, caught between wanting to keep his eyes shut and wanting to stare at your cute hands trying to wrap around his dick. Your fingers can’t even circle the girth of his cock, the realization almost making Jungkook come there and then.

He’d never been one to be overly confident about his penis size, to be honest. He doesn’t really go around proclaiming it to the world, and his meager body count doesn’t help the fact that most people are unaware of the extent of his package. He isn’t itching to tell people either, but he’s starting to see why people would be envious of having a large dick. The sight of you struggling to pump his cock really makes for a pretty picture.

“Ugh, my arm is getting tired,” you complain after a while, getting frustrated when you realize that Jungkook is almost fully hard, but not quite. “Jeez. Your dick is so huge that it really takes a minute for the fuel tank to fill up, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Jungkook wheezes, nearly crying out when you flick your wrist in just the right manner. Your hand pauses by the head of his dick, squeezing tightly enough not to be painful, much to his disappointment. Jungkook is still too shy to ask for more.

You let go of him all of a sudden, causing a guttural whine to escape Jungkook’s lips. Ignoring him, you nudge him back a few steps, Jungkook complying wordlessly. He’s still confused until you reach over to your bed, grabbing one of your pillows before dropping to your knees. Jungkook’s jaw drops, spluttering incomprehensibly as you cushion your knees with the pillow.

You look up, giggling amusedly. “Reminds you of last night, huh? Not gonna lie, I’ve been itching to have your cock in my mouth, though I’m not even sure if any of it can fit. That’s not gonna stop me from trying.”

Oh God. Oh Geez. Jungkook is going to die, isn’t he? He vaguely remembers his dream from the night before, how your pretty pink lips had stretched over his dick, barely going past his head. He whines pathetically, another string of pre-cum finally dripping down and landing on your thighs.

You hold him by his hips, preventing him from moving as your hot breath fans across his wet head. You lick your lips, taking one glance up at him before giving his tip a quick peck. It’s nothing to write home about, but the way Jungkook’s breath catches is enough to encourage you to do more. You suckle his head a little, suctioning your lips and moaning slightly at the bitter tang. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling nondescript patterns as you greedily engrave his taste into your mind.

The image of you enjoying yourself is enough to get Jungkook fully hard. He feels like he’s on fire, from his flushed cheeks all the way to his groin. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, unsure if you’d allow him to pull on your hair.

You must have noticed his plight, because one of your hands leaves his hips to grasp his own, bringing it to your hair. You pop off his dick for a second, lips already redder than before. Jungkook wishes he could kiss you, but he’s still so unsure. “You can pull my hair, but if you push me down further than I’m willing to go, I’m stopping immediately, okay?” Your voice is authoritative and your gaze is steely, but it only prompts Jungkook to moan in reply.

He nods, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly his head bobs. You smirk, appeased by his obedience. You return to your ministrations, rewarding him by going further down and bobbing your head at a snail’s pace.

Jungkook’s sanity is barely hanging onto a thread. He wants to thrust into your wet mouth, never having felt this sort of pleasure in his life. He’s beginning to understand why Jimin is such a slut, and he wonders why on earth he’s been denying himself things like this. His eyes are half-lidded, but he’s determined to watch you as your masterful tongue brings him to the edge of hysteria.

When Jungkook doesn’t think your mouth can go further down, you surprise him once again. You go lower, and Jungkook feels your throat swallow around him until he nearly screams. Drool pools in the inside of his mouth, as if Jungkook’s body doesn’t know what to do with the pleasure. His legs nearly give out, but your hands keep him mounted.

His toes are curling, thighs trembling. “Fuck,” he whines, unable to stop himself when he thrusts a little into your mouth. “Shit, I didn’t mean to–”

You glance up at him. Your eyes are tearing up, but otherwise you look unperturbed. You flatten your tongue on the underside of his dick, tracing the vein there as you slowly come up for air. You swallow the mix of saliva and pre-cum in your mouth, licking your lips like you’ve just had a 5-star meal. You look absolutely debauched, though Jungkook knows he’s probably not doing much better.

“No gag reflex. It’s fine,” you shrug, as if you’d just told him about the weather. Your voice sounds hoarse, roughened by the assault of his dick on your throat. “Are you close?”

Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, but– “Yes,” he says. He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon, sweat dripping down his neck. You observe it drip down his body, as it curves down his neck and to his chest.

“You aren’t coming until I say so, got it?” You warn. He nods, cock twitching in desperation for your mouth to continue what it was doing.

But instead, you reach back to your bed, and Jungkook finally notices the tape measure that you’d left there. Oh right. Jungkook is brought back to reality, suddenly remembering why he’d gone here in the first place.

“This will only take a second, baby,” you whisper lowly, and Jungkook’s conscience is shot out of his head once more. Call him baby one more time, and Jungkook is sure to bust his load. He’s worried he might gain a Pavlovian response to the word; getting hard every time someone so much as utters “baby” for whatever reason.

You unravel the measuring tape, placing the end of it near the base of his member. You drag it over his length, whistling in awe as the number keeps growing and growing. “Shit, you really are huge,” you gasp in amazement, peering closely at the measurement to make sure you aren’t reading it wrong. “Nearly nine inches. Are you insane?”

Jungkook chuckles in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… nothing?”

You snort, shaking your head at the pure audacity of this boy in front of you. “No need to humblebrag, baby. Unless you want me to degrade you, then stop being coy with me.”

At the word “degrade,” Jungkook’s erection twitches with interest. Of course, you notice. “Oh? You want me to degrade you?”

Jungkook’s face heats up, forever astonished by your brazenness. “N-no! That’s not what I–”

“You want me to call your cock pathetic, huh? Is that what you want?”

Jungkook whines, shifting from foot to foot as he tries to avoid your lustful gaze. “I…”

“Want me to call you names, huh? Took your cock so long to get hard, struggled so much to get it up. What a useless dick that you have…” you trail off, covering your mouth behind your hand to hide your grin.

Jungkook feels like he’s about to fall over. The pressure in between his legs is reaching his breaking point, and Jungkook really doesn’t want to embarrass himself by coming untouched. He has a sinking suspicion you’d enjoy it if he did, however.

Your hand slides back to his crotch, cupping his erection once more. You run your palm along him once, enjoying the way his breath hitches. He’s undeniably close and it fills you with pride knowing that you did this to him. “You’re close.” You say it like a fact.

Jungkook squirms. “Please… Faster… I’m so close, Y/N. Just a lil bit more, please…”

“I love it when you beg,” you laugh, sounding a little mean. “But since you’ve been nice all this time, I’ll let you.”

Your hands speed up, twisting and pulling him in ways that Jungkook isn’t sure are possible. He’s full-on panting like a fucking dog right now, humping shallowly into your hand like he’s lost his mind. He’s so unbelievably close, the heat in his stomach climbing higher and higher until––

“SHIT! Y/N!”

You stop, confused. That shout didn’t sound like Jungkook. You turn to your closed door, ears straining for the sound again. “Yoongi?” you call out. “Did you say something?”

Muffled footsteps come rushing closer. Your doorknob jiggles, but Jungkook had thankfully locked it when he’d come into the room earlier. Yoongi huffs from behind the door, banging loudly on the frame. “Y/N! Help! I fucking dropped the cheesecake!”

“He dropped the cheesecake,” you repeat dully to yourself. You share a look with Jungkook. The banging doesn’t stop.

“Y/N PLEASEEE THE KITCHEN IS A MESS!” Yoongi screams, uncaring of whatever he was interrupting. “YOU OWE ME! I PAID FOR YOUR RENT LAST MONTH SO YOU GOTTA HELP!”

“I hate that bastard,” you sigh, defeated. You let go of Jungkook reluctantly, giving him an apologetic look. Jungkook wants to cry. “I’m… really sorry for leaving you again like this. I…” you hesitate, looking at the door then back to him. “I do kind of owe him, so…”

Jungkook exhales shakily, bending down to the floor to pick his shirt up. He dresses quietly, cheeks burning. Why must you keep torturing him like this? He thinks his balls might explode at this point. “It’s no problem… I’ll just take care of myself at home.”

You peer at him, feeling incredibly guilty. “I have a connecting bathroom. You could use it if you want?”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Jungkook says before hurriedly rushing out of there. He refuses to look at you as he slams the bathroom door shut, breathing slowly through his nostrils in an attempt to calm himself. He waits as he listens for you to leave before his hands scramble back onto his dick, loudly crying out as he tugs himself to completion.

His legs give out from under him as he slides down to the floor, spurts of hot cum flying past his fist. Wave after wave of pleasure tingles down his spine as he slides up and down his cock. After his dick shoots its last droplet of cum, Jungkook slams his head against your bathroom wall. He’s exhausted.

He closes his eyes, thinks about how his life has led him up to this moment. Jizzing in some near stranger’s home while one of his best friends cleans up his fallen cheesecake.

“Jesus fucking Christ I hate it here,” he says. He gets up unsteadily, washing his hands of his mess.

x x x x x

Fully dressed and unsatisfyingly sated, Jungkook exits your bathroom with a flush down his neck. He keeps his eyes averted from you, but not before glaring heatedly at Yoongi as he turns to leave. Yoongi cocks his head to the side, annoyingly unaware of what he had done.

“You okay, dude? You look like a bull ready to pummel me,” Yoongi snickers, bemused by Jungkook’s flared nostrils. “Seriously. You okay?”

You slap Yoongi on the thigh, huffing angrily as you stay squatted on the floor, your other hand busy wiping off the cheesecake from the floor with a paper towel. “Shut up. You’ve done enough shitheadery today.”

Yoongi looks at the mounted clock on your fridge. “It’s only 7PM. My shitheadery doesn’t clock out until 10PM today.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook waves his goodbye. “Well. I guess I’ll see you guys,” he murmurs, inching closer to the door. He walks out in silence, no longer bothering to hide his pouting. He takes the elevator down, ruminating on his existence. When he reaches the ground floor, his phone immediately dings with a notification.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey. please don’t hate me. i’m really sorry. raincheck?

Jungkook snorts, stopping in his tracks. It’s always just rainchecks with you. He types up a quick response.

from: jjk it’s not your fault. it’s fine.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ you sure? you got off well by yourself at least, right?

from: jjk yeah. don’t worry about it.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ if you’re down… i could help you through the phone? when you get home? :( i just feel really bad. like, genuinely. yoongi is an asshole.

The offer sounds interesting, but sadly, Jungkook is out of juice for the day. He’s got a lot of stamina for many things, but it turns out he’s out of practice when it comes to his own dick.

from: jjk nah it’s fine. thanks though.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ i hope you’re still down for the contest? doyoung texted me while we were busy a while ago and said that they were free tomorrow after 12?

from: jjk no worries. i’ll be there.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ <3 ty you’re the best!! <3

He groans, slapping himself in the face. God, he is so fucking whipped.

x x x x x

The next day, Jungkook wakes up with a burning headache. He feels hungover even though he didn’t drink at all the night before, and Jungkook wonders if his brain had somehow deflated overnight with how hollow he feels. He grabs his phone from his bed stand, sees a new text from you reminding him of what he’d promised.

You had sent him an address to another apartment complex just a few bus stops away from where he lives and he assumes this must be either Doyoung’s or Taeyong’s place. He shuts his eyes for another few moments, trying his best to remember how to live.

It’s already nearing noon, so he needs to get going if he doesn’t want to be late. He shudders to think what you might do if he ghosts you. Despite how guilty you were yesterday for leaving him mid-nut, he doesn’t think that debt will cover him if he chooses not to show up to the dick-measuring contest.

On the bus, he fidgets in his seat, picking at the rips in his jeans and doing anything to keep his mind busy. He keeps thinking that someone knows what he’s up to, paranoia eating him from the inside out as he darts his eyes left and right, hoping no one can actually read minds. The bus is relatively empty, with only him and an elderly couple sitting near the front. They seem none the wiser, though Jungkook fears what they would think if they knew what he was up to.

He almost wishes he was wearing Seokjin’s thot shorts, as the skimpy excuse of clothing had somehow given him some sort of confidence the day before. Gone is that false sense of (misplaced) bravado; instead, Jungkook is filled with anxiety at the prospect of showing a couple of strangers his dick.

(A fairly human response, but that doesn’t help Jungkook’s current case.)

He arrives at the apartment complex in record time, and he sees you standing by the entrance. You look well-rested, your hands fiddling with your phone. Jungkook has only ever seen you when you were wearing that revealing dress from the club and your pajamas from your home, so he’s kind of shocked to see you look cute in your simple white dress and jean jacket. Not that you didn’t look good those other times, but seeing you look like a normal university student is astonishing, for lack of better word.

You almost look like a regular girl just waiting for her date to pick her up.

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily when you see him approach, waving at him. He waves back, the apples of his cheeks dusted pink from his previous thoughts. She’s not your date, you weirdo. Wait, she’s the weirdo. Get it together man! This shit is fucked up.

“This is their place, I assume?” Jungkook asks, looking at the building. It appears almost identical to your own apartment complex, minus the mini water fountain at the front. Ah, the wonders of living in a concrete jungle.

“Yep,” you nod. You start walking towards the entrance, with Jungkook following closely. “You ready? God, I can’t wait to see Doyoung’s stupid face. He’s gonna be so pissed!”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jungkook mutters, vibrating with nerves.

You both make your way to the apartment, with you humming quietly while he sweats profusely beside you. At least one of you is having fun, he thinks grimly to himself. You reach apartment 322, knocking three times before a boy with neat black hair opens the door.

“Y/N! Good to see you,” the boy says, reaching for a hug. You hug him back enthusiastically, ignoring Jungkook’s bemused stares. If this boy is either Doyoung or Taeyong, aren’t you supposed to… hate both of their guts? Or at least, not be friends? What even is going on?

When you step back, you point at Jungkook offhandedly. “Oh yeah, this is Jungkook. The guy I’m dating.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his own spit, but luckily the boy doesn’t notice. Right… You guys are supposed to be dating. It’s not real, though. Get a grip! “Hi, I’m Jungkook,” he wheezes, shaking the other guy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“I’m Doyoung,” he introduces himself, a small smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you too. I’ve heard… a lot about you, so to speak.”

Jungkook squeaks, earning a chuckle from Doyoung. “No need to be embarrassed. I think we’re way past that point now. Sorry for roping you into this, by the way. But when Y/N wants to fight, well… Let’s just say I’m not going to be the first one who backs down.”

“Says the dude who couldn’t even beat me at arm wrestling,” you snort, pushing past Doyoung and walking into his home. Doyoung rolls his eyes, gesturing for Jungkook to come in.

“Props to you for dating her, by the way. I’ve been friends with that demon since elementary school, so I know what she’s like. You must be a guy with strong willpower,” Doyoung says.

“I’m… Sorry for saying this, but I’m kind of confused? I didn’t know you guys were friends,” Jungkook says, examining Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a lot bigger than yours, though he does recall you saying that Doyoung was filthy rich. It’s a lot more modern looking for sure, as Jungkook can see that Doyoung has two industrial-sized refrigerators in his kitchen. What kind of university student needs two industrial-sized refrigerators?

“Yeah, we are. She actually only dated Taeyong because she knew we both liked each other but I was too stubborn to make a move, so she did the only thing she knew how to do: be an asshole,” he explains simply. Jungkook nods, needing no further clarification.

“Jungkook! Come with me,” you pop out from one of the doorways deeper in the apartment, beckoning him closer. You point at Doyoung, “And you. Get Taeyong ready. I’m gonna need a few minutes to get Jungkook in tip-top shape!”

Doyoung chuckles, shoving Jungkook towards you. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll introduce you to Taeyong later, I guess. He’s in my bedroom, so we’ll come out in about 20 minutes? That should be enough time, right?”

Yeah. Right. Jungkook walks numbly towards you, arms rigged by his sides as you pull him into Doyoung’s spare bathroom. You lock the door close, whirling around to face him with your hands on your hips. You’ve rolled your sleeves up, appearing like a demented surgeon preparing to dissect him. “Well! Strip!”

Jungkook is clumsy when he unbuttons his jeans, his entire body feeling like it’s being weighed down by pounds of lead. He shucks them off, leaving him in his boxers (thankfully, with no holes in them. He made sure to double-check before he left this morning.) You appraise him silently, thinking of what to do next.

Before Jungkook can say anything, your hands are already on his chest, pointer fingers placed near his nipples. His piercings are visible through his thin shirt, much to your appreciation. You circle them lazily, much like how you did yesterday.

Jungkook can’t relax long enough to enjoy it, however. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched behind his back. He’s trying to stop thinking about what’s going to happen, trying to enjoy your touch. He grits his teeth, swallowing thickly.

“I… I can’t do this, Y/N.” he mumbles. “I don’t think I can get hard. I’m too nervous.”

You pause in your movements. “You’re nervous?” you purr, voice lowering. Jungkook stops fidgeting to stare at you, sensing the shift in your demeanor. “How can I alleviate that, hmm?”

“What?”

You pinch his nipples, hard. He gasps, whimpering right after from the jolt of pain. “I think I know how to calm you down,” you murmur, staring him down like he’s nothing more than a delicious snack.

“You want me to hurt you, huh? Is that it? Answer me, slut.” You say those words, but there’s a small bit of hesitation in your expression, like you’re worried if he truly likes it. When he nods enthusiastically, urging you to go on, you smile softly at him. His heart hammers in his chest, a small case of butterflies beginning to erupt there. You look kinda cute, even if you have his nipples in a twist.

“If it’s too much, just say ‘dumbo’ and I’ll stop, okay?” Jungkook nods once more, eager to get going.

You smirk, letting go of his nipples and gripping his hips instead. Your thumbs stay innocently above his boxers. “Do you like it when I call you names too, huh? You like being pinched and prodded?”

Jungkook whines, already turning needy. The anxiety from a while ago slowly drains away, leaving only lust to cloud his mind. “N-no, I just…”

“No?” You laugh, your thumbs catching on the garter of his boxers and pulling them down until the tip of his cock peeks out, already in the midst of getting hard. “Then what’s this?”

“Nggh…” Jungkook can’t say anything, can only stare helplessly at you.

“Pathetic. You have a nine-inch cock but it’s good for nothing except earning me a bit of money. Shame, isn’t it? Would be nice if you knew how to use it, then maybe I’d let you fuck me,” you say, edging closer to him until your lips find his exposed collarbones. You suck harshly, giddy when color immediately blooms at the spot. You thread your fingers into his dark, fluffy hair – and tug.

It’s too much all at once – Jungkook isn’t ready for any of it at all. He’s panting, whining, drooling a little. He shimmies his hips a little, his boxers sliding down his thighs and onto the marble floor. His cock springs free, already dripping pre-cum but still only half-hard.

“Ah, there it is. Your big useless cock. My, my… Already dirtying Doyoungie’s floor with your slick, huh? You gonna make the floor wet, baby?”

Jungkook garbles something; did he say something? Who knows. All he knows right now is that 1) you’re making him lose his marbles and 2) he’s embarrassingly close. He’s never gotten this hard so fast in his entire life, and he might be suffering from blood loss or something. His head feels light, like he’s floating. His entire body is thrumming, senses filled with nothing but you.

You gently lead him closer to the bathtub where you sit, still paying no attention to his weeping arousal. Your mouth is dangerously close to it though, but you make no move to hold him in your mouth. Instead, you hike your skirt up until it reaches your waist, revealing your white panties. Jungkook zeroes in on the darkening patch, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs. He’s screwed.

“Show me how you pleasured yourself yesterday, when you were in my bathroom,” you say, caressing the front of your panties. You grind against your palm, eyelashes fluttering as your jaw drops into an ‘o’. You exhale through your nose, laughing breathily. “If you do well, then maybe I’ll show you what I did when you left, hmm?”

Jungkook has never moved faster in his life than he did then. He takes his erection into his hands, sighing with relief when he begins to pump. He moves slower than he usually would, unwilling to finish so soon after getting this far. He’s already wound up from your teasing (and if you count the past few days, then let’s say he’s been edged long enough.)

You study him with sharp eyes, focusing on the movement of his hands. “That’s it. It must be easy jerking off with how wet you are, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook speeds up, flicking his wrist and focusing on the sensitive tip of his cock. His attention is pulled when he sees you shift from the corner of his eye. His grip stutters when you push your panties to the side, giving him a full view of your glistening core. He licks his lips, aching to put his mouth there but only if you’d allow him.

“Why’d you stop?” You stretch your leg out, using your foot to urge his wrist to keep moving. “Come on. I want to see you.”

You circle your clit leisurely before dipping your fingers into your pussy two fingers at a time, wet enough for the slide to be smooth. Jungkook quickens his pace, wanting to match your speed. He watches, mesmerized, at the sight of your fingers pushing in and out.

The obscene sounds coming from the both of you is loud enough to mask Jungkook’s desperate mewls. He’s going faster now, wanting nothing more than to cum all over you and your pussy. You’d look good in his cum, the pearly droplets would look good in contrast with your perfect skin.

Your thighs are shaking, your own breathing shallow as you quickly approach your end. You’re moaning in tandem with him, your arousal coating your fingers generously as it begins to run down the back of your hand. You’re scissoring yourself, but it’s barely enough when you compare it to Jungkook’s cock. No, nothing would be enough to prepare you to take him. He’d ruin you, and the thought of him breaking you is enough to help you tip over the edge.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan, eyes screwing shut as you are wrought with the strongest orgasm of your life. More wetness drips out of you as you rub frantically at your clit, riding your high. You look at Jungkook through your eyelashes, lips parted. “Fuck,” you repeat.

Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. He knows he shouldn’t cum but the pleasure is skyrocketing at an unparalleled speed. His balls tighten, the heat in his abdomen building until he can’t hold back even if he tried. He shudders once, twice, before jets of his cum spills from over his fist, some of the droplets making their way onto your thighs. He moans at the sight, doesn’t try to change his trajectory as his mind is completely hazed with lust. “Shit, I’m–” Jungkook grinds one last time into his hand, before promptly slumping down onto the floor.

“Jesus, that was a lot of cum,” he hears you say, but he can’t bring himself to look at you. He’s ashamed, having cummed without your permission. He can feel his dick softening underneath him, and he dimly remembers that hadn’t been the plan at all. He was supposed to get hard, have his dick measured, and then finish if he was allowed. And now, he ruined everything because he couldn’t hold himself back.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, hiding behind his cum-stained hands. He cringes when the mess enters his eyes, wiping his palm somewhere on his leg. “Fuck. I messed everything up. You were just… It was too much… You…”

“Should’ve used your safety word, Jungkook.”

“It wasn’t because it was bad,” Jungkook’s cheeks flush, “It was… too good.”

You kneel beside him, cradling his chin and forcing him to look at you. He had been afraid to see disappointment in your eyes, so he’s absolutely surprised to see you look… amused. You’re even giggling a little.

“Sorry. I went a bit overboard. Even I get horny sometimes,” you shrug, wiping a bit of cum away from his forehead. Your own fingers are slick with your own cum, so really, you were just making a bigger mess of his face. Jungkook can’t say he’s opposed to a little mess. “You just looked so good that I couldn’t help myself.”

“You… enjoyed yourself, too? I’m not insane for thinking there’s something between us?”

“Honestly, you’re at least a little bit insane,” you laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “What? I’m cuckoo, and you know it. The fact that you got turned on by me even after all I’d done to you… Really puts you into perspective, huh?”

Jungkook grumbles, but he’s no longer frowning. “I guess. My friends tell me I have a type, and I guess you fit the bill.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that, and it brings a smile to Jungkook’s face. He likes it when you laugh, he decides. “Same here. I guess you’re my type, too.”

You peer down at his flaccid dick. “Too bad about your meat flute, though. Unless you can get it back up in the next 2 minutes, then I don’t think you’re getting that three grand.”

“Please don’t call my dick that,” Jungkook says before shrugging his shoulders. “And it’s no worries. I had the biggest nut of my life and that’s good enough to me. Plus, you said you’d give me one thousand dollars if I agreed to help you out, so you better not back out on that.”

You snigger, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Yeah, whatever. But not before we get out of here and you fuck my brains out, got it? You need to work for it, baby.”

Is it bad that his cock was already beginning to stir once more? Unprecedented, as it usually took Jungkook ages to get back up. Maybe you really were the one for him.

“Deal. Let’s get out of here?”

When the two of you finish getting cleaned up and leave the bathroom with no evidence that you had even been there, Doyoung doesn’t even bat an eye as you walk past him, eager to get out of the door. Taeyong is lounging on the couch with his dick… mysteriously still in his pants, as if he had no intention of taking them off in the first place.

“Sorry, we need to leave. There’s an emergency we have to attend to. See you, Doyoungie!” You tug Jungkook along, who waves his own hasty goodbye.

The door clicks shut, leaving the couple alone once more. Taeyong grins up at Doyoung, “You really are amazing, Doyoung. How’d you know she’d end up with him?”

Doyoung flicks open his phone, showing Taeyong his text messages with none other than Kim Seokjin himself. “All according to keikaku, my love. Kim Seokjin always wins.”

[mandoalorian]

What about Javier Pena being jealous?????? 🥺

Thank you for the request! I hope this is okay for you!!

Into You [Javier Pena x Female Reader] SMUT

Warnings: SMUT, inexperienced reader, angst in the start but fluff in the end ;) <3

Rating: 18+ only.

Word count: 4k

MASTERLIST | Submit your requests HERE

Javier Peña did not get jealous.

But he heard the way they talked about you. He saw the way they looked at you. Gawked, undressing you with their minds. The way their lips spewed dirt and filth about the things they'd do to you if they were graced with the chance of some ‘alone time’ with you. And he hated it.

Javier Peña was anything but a saint. He had his ways. The DEA had a renown of being more reserved than the CIA, which meant Javier had earned a name for himself due to his lothario reputation.  Javier's colleagues were a lot older than him, settled down with families, children- and some even with grandchildren. Even his old partner, Steve Murphy, had a wife and a daughter. Javier had none of that. Except from you.

You were the new receptionist. Shy, fresh faced, and beaming with anticipation as you found your feet in your new job. Javier found it endearing, but he wondered how long your bubbliness would last. It wasn't all rainbows and butterflies- working for the DEA. You had an air of innocence to you, and he swore you had the kindest heart in the whole of Colombia. Javier knew from the moment he met you, that the men in his department were not deserving of you.

Javier didn't give a fuck about his reputation. But when the Colombian department extended to the CIA, Javier met a lot more men who were like himself. He saw them chat up women from his previous encounters in bars, and he saw them visit the same brothels as he did. That behaviour seemed to become normalized.

You were the only women in a department filled with horny, sex crazed men. Often, Javier would find himself watching you from his desk, only a pane of glass seperating you both. Almost always you were on the phone, doodling in a notebook as you talked to potential informants. Other times, your head was down and you were whisked away in your work. Occasionally though, he noticed CIA agents bust their move with you.

He never confronted you about it- it wasn't his place, but seeing the way they spoke to you filled a rage in his heart. Javier was lucky enough to blossom a friendship with you; one that you really valued. You didn't have many friends in Colombia, but knowing a man like Javier Peña had your back? That really brought you comfort.

Even better, you lived in the same apartment building as him. Same floor, just two doors apart. It meant that you were constantly over at his flat spending time with him. He taught you how to play poker and you enjoyed watching movies together and ordering take-out. Javier was a lot of fun.

Maybe, just maybe, you and Javier were spending too much time together. You were catching feelings for him, and shit- he was so sure he had already caught feelings for you.

Javier Peña does not catch feelings. He ran out on his and Lorraine's wedding because he was sure that he felt nothing for her. And she was his fiancée. Now, all of a sudden, he had a thing for the new DEA receptionist who sat outside his office. Only, it was more than just a thing. Javier Peña was in love. The sweet girl he had found to be so caring and compassionate, the angel who had eyes that must've been crafted by the Gods themselves and the softest lips he wished he could kiss.

You had sworn you had never been in love either, until of course, you met Javier. There was no way to explain it. You both just clicked like magnets. There was an electricity that exceeded just mere sexual tension. There was genuine feelings. 

Javier Peña is impulsive and so, when his feelings for you dawned on him, he called up his favourite sex worker; Vanessa. Not only was she good at her job, Vanessa was a good person. She was good to Javi when she didn't need to be, and that was hard to find in 80s drug-torn Colombia.

When Javi had a bad day at work- Vanessa would be at his beck and call. Sex was a way he could release any negative emotions he had. A temporary fix.

That night, you had planned to confront Javier. He had confided in you previously that he had stopped sleeping with women. Deep down, it was because of his feelings for you; although he would never admit that to you. You wanted to tell Javier that you liked him… a lot. But, you stood behind his apartment door, bottle of wine in hand, and heard Javier fucking Vanessa.

You froze up as you overheard their mixed up moans and groans of pleasure, immediately feeling stupid. Why would you believe that you actually had a chance with Javier Peña? He clearly didn't feel the same way about you.

And so you went back to your apartment, climbed into bed and finished the bottle of wine on your own. You closed your eyes and masturbated over him, whining his name as pleasure filled your core. 

And when Javier fucked Vanessa, he had her wear your pale pink lipgloss. He imagined her eyes match your specific shade and as he reached his climax, he wished it was with you. When he came, he screamed your name.

Of course, Vanessa didn't care. A job was a job to her.

After that night, you done your very best to brush away any feelings you once had for Javier. You tried really hard. You were beginning to believe it was a lost cause until CIA Agent Milo approached your desk about a month later.

Of course Javier noticed. He tried to take in the interaction between the two of you, judging from facial expressions as the glass pane in between you was practically soundproof. You were smiling, and you looked happy. Milo leaned against your desk, taking a pen and scrawling something on a sticky note. It was his number.

Jealousy was rife inside of Javi. Maybe Milo was about ten years younger than Javier, and maybe he read more fashion magazines. Although Javier considered himself stylish, you would often tease him for his 70s style wardrobe— an array of brightly coloured button up shirts, the same pair of dark blue denim jeans and pair of yellow tinted aviators. 

Javier knew Milo was no good for you. He reminded Javi of a younger version of himself. Milo was a heartbreaker, and you didn't need that. You needed someone who could look after you. Take care of you in all the ways you needed.

Not only that, but Javier knew what the CIA department was like— especially Milo. He would have nothing but questionable intentions with you. Another one of his sexual encounters that meant nothing to him but everything to you.

It was late on a Saturday evening when you nervously knocked on Javier's door. Just about to light up a cigarette, he stood up and unlocked it. His eyes widened when he saw you, slightly surprised. 

You were wearing a little black dress which clung around all your perfections, and ofcourse, your signature pink lip gloss.

"I haven't seen you in a while," he greeted as you slid past him and into the kitchen. "Want a drink?"

"No thank you." you replied, and Javier shut the front door and followed you into the kitchen.

"So what brings you here?" Javier asked, lighting his cigarette and taking a puff of smoke.

"I have a date with Milo in 45 minutes," you told Javier, awkwardly avoiding eye contact.

"Oh," Javier didn't really know how to respond.

"And, I missed you." you shrugged innocently, beckoning a small smile out of Javier. The blush that crept upon his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by you.

"So, uh, Milo, huh?" Javier questioned, taking another drag of his cigarette. He failed to realise why exactly you had come to see him- 45 minutes before your date.

"Um, yeah," you looked around his kitchen awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. "He's pretty great." you managed to force out. "He was employee of the month like, three months ago."

"Yeah a real sucker upper," Javi rolled his eyes and you gasped, nudging him playfully.

"He is not." You laughed but Javier really wasn't in the mood for whatever you were trying to do here.

"Why are you here?" he deadpanned, cutting your laugh short.

"I…" you frowned, unable to complete your sentence and earning an annoyed sigh from Javi. Maybe you were wrong to come to him.

"I don't think you should go out on a date with Milo." Javi informed you matter-of-factly; stubbing out his cigarette in the ash-tray that was conveniently placed on the kitchen counter.

"Excuse me?" you asked, your voice going uncontrollably high pitched. Javier casually placed the burnt out tab back in his mouth.

"I hear the things they say about you in the office, the sly little comments they make about you." Javier grunted, dismay written all over his face. The cigarette that was balanced in-between his perfect pink lips wobbled slightly with his building up anger. "They're no good for you. No good."

You narrowed your eyes. "No good? Javier, you don't get to be the judge of who is good for me and who isn't." You tried to stay composed but in the heat of the moment, your words came out as a snarl. Javier's dark eyes snapped up to meet yours as he tried to weigh up your expression.

"Shit, I didn't mean it like that." he raised his hands in defense and you folded your arms across your chest, awaiting an explanation for him. "It's just- we're friends, right? And I'm a guy and so, I understand what these other guys are like. And I care about you and-" 

"What if Milo cares about me?" you croaked out. Judging from everything Javier had told you so far, you were beginning to wonder if he was right. You just didn't want to believe it. Your one shot of happiness. Your one chance.

"Milo doesn't care about you." Javier deadpanned.

"Ouch Javi." you shuffled your heels around uncomfortably. You were certain your cheeks were heating up from the shame and you probably looked like an absolute mess in front of Javier. You felt embarrassed for not realising sooner. And seemingly, Javier had caught on to those feelings too.

"You have nothing to feel ashamed about," Javier comforted you, awkwardly reaching out and placing a hand on your back. You shuffled closer to him and he finally pent up the courage to pull you into his chest.

His embrace was warm and you could smell the mixture of his cigarettes and aftershave in his white shirt. You wanted to cry. If you were alone, you would've cried, but you couldn't bring yourself to do so in front of Javier.

"I feel pathetic," you whimpered, fidgeting with his tie. "You know Javi, I'm not very good at this kind of stuff. That's why I came to see you in the first place. I know that- I mean I've heard things about you. You have the experience."

Javier stiffened up and you awkwardly pulled away from him, desperately trying to read his expression in case you said something wrong. "Experience?" he questioned, his dark eyebrows knotting together.

"You- you know," you murmured, closing your hands into a fist and looking down at your feet. "You're experienced and I'm… not."

"I don't understand." Javier replied and you huffed out your cheeks.

"Fuck Javi, are you actually going to make me say it? I'm a virgin."

Javier blinked a few times. The silence was deafening. You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

"I- I would've never have guessed."

"Yeah well…" Fuck, this was awkward.

"Y/N, can I tell you something?" Javier prompted.

"I guess?" you replied in bewilderment.

"When I see him talk to you- when I see anyone talk to you… I get jealous. So fucking jealous."

You swore your heart stopped. "Jealous?"

"I see the way they make you laugh and smile- and I curse myself because I wish that was me."

You raised a hand and pressed it into his chest. "Javi…" you didn't know what to say. "I- I came here for… advice. About… you know. Sex."

Javier looked you up and down and rolled his eyes, walking into his living room. When you followed him, he was already slouched into the sofa, nursing a bottle of cold beer.

"What do you need from me?" Javier sighed, feeling defeated that his attempt of admitting his true feelings had become completely lost on you.

"Show me." you whispered nervously, taking a few steps closer to him.

"I don't want to take advantage of you…" Javier trailed off but he was already wishing he could undress you.

"I want you to." you admitted, feeling butterflies erupt in your stomach. 

Javier contemplated for a moment but really, there was no question about it. He had dreamt of fucking you since the moment he first laid his eyes on you. Javier leaned forward and put the bottle of beer on the coffee table.

"Take off your dress and come sit on my lap." Javier instructed and you nodded, sliding out of your dress and letting it pool around your ankles. You went to kick off your heels when Javi interrupted. "No, keep them on."

You nodded with a slight smile. It wasn't long until you found yourself standing completely naked in front of your best friend, and Javi had gotten rock hard from just watching you undress. All his fantasies were alive.

He beckoned you over and you sunk down onto his lap. "Rock your hips over me," Javi mumbled, pressing a light kiss into your ear.

You followed his command and immediately felt a wash of satisfaction as you started to dry hump him through his jeans.

"Javi," you moaned, your eyes rolling back as you grind harder over his bulge.

"That's it, good girl," he praised, fucking a stand of your hair behind your ear. His hand fell down to your chest, grabbing and squeezing at your breasts. "Take what you need."

A huff of air escaped your lips at his words and you buried your head into the crook of his neck. His skin was warm and you could smell the tobacco burnt into his body. But also, there was a sweetness to him, like honey. The scents did not get lost on you. He was your addiction.

You raised your hands to his head, lacing your fingers amongst his locks of dark brown hair. As you increased your speed, you tugged on his hair which earned a hearty groan from Javier's mouth. The noises he made only spurred on your arousal and you felt your cunt getting wetter by the second, contracting around nothing as you began to grow desperate for his cock.

Javier felt his boxer shorts dampen as his precum dripped through the thin material. His big hands roamed your bare back and he knew that pretty soon he'd want to take his pants off. You loved the sensation of rubbing your pussy over his denim jeans, the friction tickling you in just the right ways. You loved the way he would moan or tense up when you occasionally brushed over his erection.

"This feels better than I ever could've imagined." you admitted and your eyes were hazy, glazed with tears as you pushed towards your climax.

"Yeah? Fuck, first times usually aren't this good," Javier grunted as he felt you twitch on top of him, your legs beginning to shake around him. "Can you cum for me?"

"You- you want me to cum?" you blinked, a blush creeping upon your cheeks.

"Please," Javier groaned. "Need you to cum all over me. Make a mess of my jeans."

"Oh Javi," you whimpered, putting more focus on grinding over his hard, defined bulge. It rubbed between your folds and stimulated you in a way that your fingers could never.

"I love it when you say my name," Javier hummed, holding you steady as you rode out your high. You gasped and pressed your lips against his.

He swiped his tongue over your lower lip, begging for entry which you happily granted him. But the second you opened your mouth just slightly, he slid his tongue in and you gasped out another loud moan of his name causing his grip to tighten around you. You came undone all over him, just how he had always dreamt about, whimpering into his mouth. You stopped grinding but stayed still on his lap for a few moments, letting him hold you and kiss you.

His kiss eventually left your lips and he planted sloppy love bites down your neck and along your collarbones. His grip on your breast was soft yet firm and the roughness of his hands made you want to help, especially when he rubbed his thumb over your nipple, pinching it slightly just to see what reaction he could get out of you.

"Your tits are fucking perfect." Javier groaned, licking a stripe down the valley of your breasts. You watched him with eager and excited eyes as he played with you, feeling your cunt drip with your arousal once more.

"Javi," you groaned, tossing your head back.

"What is it?" he responded, a mouthful of your tit. You paused for a moment, letting him suck on your nipples. "What do you need, my love?"

"I need you," you mewled, your toes curling involuntarily when he pulled his mouth away from your nipples with a 'pop' sound. "Need your cock to fill me up."

"Yeah? Fuck you're so dirty… never had no cock before. And you want mine? Are you sure that's what you want, sweet girl?" Javier's mustache brushed against your neck and you giggled at the tickle it gave you.

"Mm yes Javi, wanted this for so long and so bad. Wanted you. I'd hear about all the girls that you fucked and I, I just wanted to be one. One of your little fuck toys." You groaned, pleasure pooling in your eyes.

"My love, you're more than that. You're so much more than that." Javier promised you, gently pushing you off his lap so he could unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans. He stood up, pulling his jeans down, along with his boxer shorts, and you couldn't help but yelp when you saw the way his long thick cock sprung out against his stomach. The tip was red and already leaking for you.

"Oh Javi," you whispered, unable to take your eyes off his manhood. "You're so- you're so big."

"Come here," he curled his finger, gesturing for you to come back over and sit on his lap.

You straddled him again and gasped, feeling his cock press between your folds. You continued to rub over him, this time feeling more freeing as your wetness glided over his erection. "I'm nervous," you admitted. "I want this Javi. I really do, but I've never- done this before." you gulped and Javi planted a reassuring kiss to your lips.

"I'll go gentle sweetheart, I promise. And if it ever gets too much, you can just tell me. Your comfort is the most important to me." Javi whispered in your ear, sending chills down your spine. "Let me just…."

Javier lowered his hand to your clit and began to rub gently. He closed his eyes, your wetness soaking his fingers with just the smallest of touches. "Already so nice and wet for me," Javier smiled, bringing his fingers up to your lips and pushing them gently into your mouth. He watched you with his dark, lust blown eyes as you sucked your own arousal from his fingers. "How do you taste?" 

"Good," you replied, blushing again and hopelessly fluttering your eyelashes which framed your eyes.

Javier lowered his hand again and you lifted yourself up slightly. He slid his middle finger in, deep, and you were surprised at how well you could take him. He left his finger inside of you for a second before rubbing his index finger against your hole. He looked at you, asking for approval, to which you gave him a nod and smile, and Javier pushed a second finger inside of you. This earned a moan from you, followed by a giggle as he slowly stretched you out by pumping his fingers in and out of you.

Feeling your walls contract around him, he removed his fingers and brought them up to his own mouth, this time tasting you for himself. "Perfect." he corrected you, humming in delight.

Javier reached over to the drawer inside the coffee table and pulled out a string of condoms. He teared open the packet of one and skillfully slid it down his length.

Javier adjusted himself slightly and you lifted off him just a few inches. He reached to his cock and held it upright, before signalling for you to sink down on him. He wanted to let you be in control. He wanted you to start doing it at your own, comforting pace.

The second you sunk down on him, you felt him twitch inside of you and your eyes widened at the unfamiliar feeling fullness. You sat down on him, nudging your nose against his and he kissed you again as you warmed his cock in your pussy.

"So tight," Javier growled, biting down on your lower lip. "How does it feel for you? Is it hurting?"

You shook your head 'no' and Javier offered you a warm smile. "Just- you're just so big."

"Take your time sweet girl." Javier murmured, kissing down your neck.

Slowly, you lifted yourself off him before sinking back down. And repeat. Until eventually you felt like you could build up a steady and comfortable rhythm— you realised you were riding him. Javier buried his head into your breasts as you bounced on his cock, your breathing hitching as you felt every one of his bumps and veins inside of you.

Javier was a mess underneath you, slurring out an abundance of incoherent curses in a wash of satisfaction as your cunt clenched around him. He knew he wouldn't last long.

You straightened up your posture and Javi shuffled backwards a little, leaning into the plush of the sofa cushions. His hips started to snap into yours as he began to meet your thrusts with loud moans. His large hands held you by your waist as he fucked you so perfectly. His cock was buried deep within you, and with every one of Javier's thrusts, he hit your sweet spot.

"I'm close," you gasped as Javier continued thrusting. You felt your heart rate pick up and your legs begin to shake as his balls slapped against your dripping core.

"Me too," Javier concluded, bumping his nose against yours and kissing you passionately. Breaking away to catch breath, he grabbed a fistful of your hair. "Cum with me. 3, 2, 1." 

The second he said '1' you broke on top of him, and Javier's cock pulsed inside of you, his seed spilling into the condom. Your cunt clenched around him, milking him of all his arousal and you were left, a breathless mess, on Javier Peña's lap. His cock slipped out of you and you groaned at the lost feeling of fullness. Javier pinched the condom and took it off before throwing it into the nearby trash bin.

Javier's dark eyes blinked up at you a few times as you both took a few minutes to regain your breath. "How was it?" Javier asked eventually, exhaling shakily.

"Better than I ever could've imagined." you offered him a smile. He always found that your smile was contagious and he couldn't help but grin at you back.

"Listen- what I said to you before- the whole, "I'm into you" thing… if you're not ready, I completely understand." Javier told you.

You couldn't bring yourself to fathom words so you simply just pressed a kiss into his lips. "I'm into you too, Javier Peña." you whispered and felt Javier grin into the kiss, his hands twisting into your hair as he pulled you deeper into him.

Permanent taglist (let me know if you would like to be added!):  @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic 

[azalea-in-wonderland]

In the Heights Daniela/Carla “little details” Obsession Masterpost

I have become completely obsessed with the Daniela/Carla RS from In the Heights, and since they don’t really have all that much screen time, I’ve been poring over every single frame for all the little details that can be gleaned about them, all the things that are easy to miss on a casual viewing. I thought I would post this list of canon stuff I've noted (mixed with a lot of my own observations/opinions/speculation/headcanon) for other fans, and it might be handy for other fic writers too. And please feel free to reblog or reply and add details that I missed, or just your own headcanons!

In the bedroom scene from the opening number montage, Carla’s pajama t-shirt has a rainbow pattern on it. Daniela’s has palm trees. Carla has a reading light on her side of the bed, and flowers on the nightstand. Or that might be a desk right next to the bed. It looks like their bed is only a full size, not even a queen size, which means they don’t have the space or money for anything bigger but also means they’re fine with sleeping *really* close together, which is lovely. And I love that the actresses genuinely weren’t wearing makeup, looks much more authentic. And weirdly, they both look younger without it.

I think we can assume that Carla is a morning person and Daniela is definitely not. Carla also seems to have assumed the wifey role of turning the alarm off, probably getting up first to get the coffee started and letting Dani sleep a bit longer, then trying to get her out of bed in a good mood to start the day. (And given how amazing they both look at work, you know it's gotta take them a long time to get ready in the morning.)

When they come into the bodega, Carla holds the door open for Daniela. While Cuca gets their 3 coffees, Dani gets a box of chocolate doughnuts and Carla gets like 4 candy bars, a few of them might be granola bars? I really love that they just eat junk food for breakfast like normal working class people. (Don't be mad, I say this as a lifelong poor person, these are mi gente.) Carla hurries past Dani toward the door so she can open it for her again. Her little "bye!" is so cute, right?

Carla really likes to stick her tongue out at random moments, huh? I approve. I wholeheartedly approve. I counted at least 5 appearances, there might have been more. Somebody please gif all the tongue cameos.

If Daniela's salon has been open for decades, she must have started her business when she was pretty young. Driven with a vision, so sexy.

When Carla is talking about the guy bouncing between two girls houses and the customer says "we need to have a better standard" and Carla goes "that's what I'm saying!" all I could think was that's such a typical lesbian superiority moment, lol. You know she was thinking "If you really had a higher standard you'd find yourself a woman like Dani. But you can't have Dani because she's taken."

It’s kinda hard to tell because she doesn’t even have that many lines of dialogue, but I think Stephanie is actually doing a Queens accent for Carla -- the Latin version, not the Jewish or Italian version. ;) It’s a nice little touch.

And related to that, I love love love the way she made the character her own and instead of playing Carla as just the sweet and ditzy salon girl, she’s also kind of a spoiled brat and drama queen, like any good Queens princess should be. Those little moments where she throws a tantrum after not winning the lottery and after losing at Bingo, her whining and moaning about the car being hot, sulking when Dani dances with that guy, and dramatizing the blackout to whoever she’s talking (singing) to on the phone, so funny and cute. You just know Daniela finds it adorable and totally indulges and spoils her.

At the sink where she's working there are 2 pics of dogs stuck in the mirror. Are those her dogs or just random dogs?

Carla's automatic clapbacks and aggressive support of Daniela's speech about how the customers can suck it up and take the train. She goes from that hilarious scoff to the offended "uhscuse me?" to standing right next to Dani in solidarity to just looking turned on as fuck by watching her girl take the piss out of everyone. If Nina hadn't shown up I think she would have dragged her to the back for a quickie. 

Even though it was funny in the stage version too, Carla’s “I don’t think I know what you mean” and “As long as he keeps it clean” lines are just soooo much funnier with the character being gay. Especially since by the second one, Stephanie is playing it like she’s caught on to exactly what they’re talking about, but she wishes she hadn’t. (Edit: the song script notes in the ITH book confirm Carla does know what they’re talking about. “Carla gets it.”)

And if we want to be really really dirty-minded about this (and of course we do) you can add that with sex toys like strap-ons it’s very important to wash it after each use and “keep it clean,” so maybe Carla was just applying her sensible lesbian logic to Benny’s limo.

And apparently the actress did confirm on social media that Carla is indeed capital G gay, not bi or anything else. I’ll take her word for it. 

When the salon ladies are pushing Nina’s rolling chair across the floor, instead of pushing the chair Daniela has her hand on Carla’s lower back. Any excuse!

Let’s just assume that since Nina went back to Stanford, Dani and Carla really will be getting front row seats to her graduation. And they would absolutely be the people to ignore the “don’t cheer until the end of the ceremony” rules. Nina will be so embarrassed, but also love them so much.

At the end of Vanessa’s song when she turns the woman into a cockatoo, Dani and Carla are hanging out in the background having a quiet conversation about something. In my mind it’s not work related, just a little moment to check in with each other.

And I’m so sad they cut out the part from the stage show where Daniela gets impatient waiting for her soda and bellows at the bodega, “VANESSAAAAA!! I’m thirsty, coño!” It would have been even funnier with the realistic set to see her hollering from across the street.

Seeing this crowded, bustling salon I can’t help thinking that the pandemic would have been really brutal on the two of them. Salons were some of the earliest businesses to close and the last to reopen, and you can tell from the run-down and outdated look of the place that they’re just barely getting by at the best of times and probably don’t have a lot of savings. And after just moving to the Concourse and probably taking a dip in customers while they get the place established, it couldn’t have come at a worse time. I wonder how they made it through. Someone should fic that.  (This is getting long and I’m not even halfway through, so I'll do the read-more break.) 

Just casually hanging out resting with her head in her wife’s lap at the pool, sighhh. So cute. Not sure why Cuca is also leaning on Dani, but I like to think she’s like their adopted little sister. She’s not altogether necessary in this movie, but I’m guessing it was one of those “rule of 3″ things, where in a visual sense it just looked better to have 3 women than 2. Like the 3 Schuyler sisters, the Unholy Trinity from Glee, etc. It fills out the musical numbers. And I’ve loved Dascha Polanco since the first ep of OITNB, so I can’t be mad.

Notice that the towels they’re laying out on are kind of old and faded, that’s a nice little touch of class authenticity.

It’s funny how a line like “if it’s just between you and me?” was originally written for platonic best friends and yet can be transformed into one of the sexiest moments in the movie just by the flirty way they use their body language. You just know there are many many things that are only between the two of them.

The fact that Daniela’s wildest dreams for riches involve nothing more exotic or extravagant than Atlantic City and a rum cocktail makes her such a precious lil bean.

When they’re checking their tickets and Dani is pulling them out of her top, Carla says “let me have one” and then just reaches down into Dani’s shirt to look for one herself. Nbd when it’s your wife. Mis tetas son tus tetas.

When they’re trying to unfold that last ticket (the one that makes Carla have a tantrum), Daniela has her arm literally through Carla’s arms and pressing up against her boob. She also keeps gripping Carla’s wrist like she really instinctively wants to hold her hand in that moment, but Carla needs her hand to open the ticket.

(Sidenote: My favorite favorite moment of the movie for total OTT extra-ness was the bit after 96000 when everyone was checking their lottery tickets FROM THE POOL. It was so completely ridiculous and I love it. You just know that during filming at some point, somebody had to have been like, “But would all these people really have their paper lottery tickets with them in the swimming pool??” And someone else was just like, [giant shrug] “I don’t know bro, it’s a musical.”)

At the dinner at abuela Claudia’s, they’re so cute running through the door all excited and goofy, calling greetings to everyone. Also, Carla is definitely one of those girls who gets louder and louder the more she drinks, isn’t she? Lol.

And the fact that they can’t wait more than a few seconds into that bolero to start dancing, even though nobody else is. So wrapped up in each other and so oblivious to everyone else in the room, like they all just disappear for a minute. Abuela Claudia gives them a fond look at one point, and since this is the last night of her life, it’s sweet she got to see some happy romance in her home. Vanessa looks jealous of what they have, Usnavi looks kind of awkward but affectionate, like seeing his sister in an intimate moment and not knowing where to look.

Carla just pounding the stereo to fix the skipping record, ha! Most people would nudge the needle, but you do you, baby girl. Daniela was proud of her, that’s all that matters.

Carla’s encouraging responses to Abuela’s dancing, “Woowww, sexy!”

When they eat, Carla fixes a plate for Daniela. Daniela is sitting plateless by Kevin listening to his story about his shoeshine business and Carla comes in carrying two plates full of food, and then next frame Daniela has one. That is such an intimate and quintessentially WIFEY thing to do, I can’t handle it. “No, just go sit down and relax, I’ll get it.” You have to know someone so well to be able to make them a plate.

In the ITH: Finding Home book it mentions that during the dinner scene, Daniela is very impressed and supportive of Kevin’s decision to sell the company. As a business owner herself, she gets it and understands why he had to do it. You can hear her saying “Felicidades” (congratulations) a few times.

All the little concerned glances and looks they keep giving each other during Nina’s story about being searched. It’s obvious they can communicate without words.

Carla looks really uncomfortable when Kevin starts yelling, she even seems to jump a little. Maybe she had an overbearing dad herself.

After the emotional father/daughter scene where Nina storms out, Carla is the first one to pick up her fork and start eating again. Like she’s thinking, okay, that was horrendous, but this food is getting cold and we’re still gonna eat it, right?

The part where they’re both singing in overlapping English and Spanish during Blackout is so compelling and musically addictive, I can’t figure out why it sounds so great but I’ve watched it a hundred times. That is peak Lin-Manuel Miranda with the way the rhythms intersect. If anyone can’t make out the words clearly, Carla is telling someone “Oh God, so much panic, the crowd was manic, with everybody screaming and shoving and shouting and slapping, and everyone was frantic, what’s happening with you?” Daniela says (in Spanish) “Look love, do me a favor, wake Abuela up and see if maybe she has candles. I was dancing when the blackout hit, there are people here but I don’t know who they are.” I’m assuming Dani was talking to Sonny or Usnavi, maybe Nina? And I’m gonna say Carla was talking to that guy who works at the salon, whose name we don’t know.

And by their words I guess it’s safe to say they had some scary moments when the power went out at whatever club they were at. I think they’d both be extremely protective of each other, but especially Dani (even though she’s so much smaller) bc she probably thinks that her most important job in life is keeping Carla safe.

Carla’s mischievous look at Dani when she was taking her bingo cards, like “yes I’m taking 5 and you can’t stop me.”

And then even with 5 she still loses and Daniela wins with just one, ha ha. I love the way she flings her cards away and yells “I quit!” And Daniela says “Bingo motherlovers!” instead of “motherfuckers” because she’s in the presence of an old lady, and she has class.

The fact that Usnavi instinctively yells for Daniela when he wants someone to call 911 shows how close they are and how important her role is in “the family.” You can hear Carla saying a shocked “What?” and “What’s happening?”

The hand hold and squeeze while they’re waiting to hear the news. And then Carla with her arm around Dani and hand on her shoulder when the stretcher comes in.

During Alabanza they’re holding hands when they’re walking down the street, and then it’s harder to see because of the angle and how dark it is, but when they stand up from the stoop with the raised torches, they have their arms around each other’s waists. And before they stand up, Daniela reaches out for Carla’s hand like she needs her support.

The fact that on Vanessa’s application under employer, she just listed “Daniela” with no last name. It’s like Daniela is so well known and such a pillar of the neighborhood that the Heights residents forget that not everyone in NYC knows who she is. They’re just like “you know, Daniela. FROM THE SALON.”

While Cuca is eye fucking the moving truck guy, Carla is so totally oblivious to his existence and so focused on following right behind Daniela that she literally runs into her when Dani suddenly turns around, ha. It’s cute how Dani kind of gently redirects her toward the car.

“Oh God. [sob] It’s hotter in here.” I LOVE HER SO MUCH

Probably of no significance, but in the dinner party scene Carla is wearing an army green jumpsuit with sky blue earrings, and in the Carnaval scene Dani is wearing an army green romper with a sky blue bracelet and blue striped shoes. It’s just an odd color combo that they apparently both like.

The RAINBOWS. Carla has rainbow stripes going all the way up the sides of her pants and shirt. She’s also wearing special Pride-themed Reeboks that have a tiny rainbow flag on them. Such a perfect touch for a gay character in a movie that’s both based in June and came out in June.

Her hoop earrings say “Baby Girl” and Stephanie liked a post on Instagram asking if they were a gift to Carla from Daniela. That’s canon and they can’t take it away from us.

And I’m assuming she’s feeling particularly in need of religious consolation following Abuela’s death, hence the double cross necklaces and the WWJD reference. Since Dani also crossed herself when they were scared for Abuela, safe to say they’re both at least somewhat religious.

Edit: A few sharp-eared people have noticed that when Carla is in the car, and it cuts back to Daniela standing on the sidewalk, you can hear Carla say, “Mi amor, qué haces?” (My love, what are you doing?) And so of course she jumps right back out to come and see what Dani is looking at, because that’s the kind of supportive wife she is. 

It’s so sad that nobody turned out to say goodbye to them. When Carla sees how sad Dani is and gives that lil offended “hm!” sniff down her nose at the sidewalk guys, aww. I’m glad Daniela hunted the neighbors down. I think that may actually be my favorite non-musical moment, when she bursts through that steel door and bellows BYE PEOPLE!! Backed up by Carla’s sarcastic “Bye!” Carla is so cute stomping around after her with her hands on her hips, so devoted and supportive of her woman.

“Mi amor, cálmate.” I think this is actually the only reference in the script to the fact that they’re a couple, isn’t it? I wish they hadn’t left the job *entirely* to the actors and director, it would have been nice to have at least a few little changes to the book. It’s telling that Carla used Spanish for that moment instead of English, it feels more intimate.

Is it just me or did Daniela give kind of a saucy spin to the “Do I look like Jesus to you?” line by the look she gave Carla, like “honestly, with the stuff I do to you in bed? are you kidding me?” She even glances at Carla’s boobs TWICE as she’s saying it, to make the point really clear.

What’s with the woman in the pink tank on the other side of the bench at the picnic table, she looks very flirty and winks at Daniela. I’m gonna hc that she’s an old flame who Carla doesn’t know about. (Edit: It was pointed out in the replies that the pink tank lady is also Jessica from the salon, and now I'm even more convinced she and Dani had a thing, based on the familiar/exasperated way they were talking to each other. "My lunch break's not long enough for that trip, Dani." "Jessica, swipe the fare card." I bet they were a cute couple but too much alike to work out long term.)

Carla’s megawatt smile and enthusiasm when Dani starts singing and dancing, she can barely contain how much she loves watching her.

Until the guy shows up to dance with Dani, then you immediately see her in the background jump from baffled to concerned to an alarmed “that’s enough of that” in just a few seconds. The way she just pushes him aside like, “No. Not for you.”

The look Carla is giving her once Dani starts dancing all up on her has to be the sexiest thing between them in the movie, right? Stephanie conveys “turned on” like no one’s business. It’s funny to watch the neighbors in the bg, watching them dance. They so jealous.

The little ass slap of encouragement! You just know that Daniela is the top in that relationship, at least most of the time. (But it’s always good to switch it up occasionally.) Dani is so cute cheering Carla on while she sings, she looks so proud and happy to show off her girl.

Based on Carla’s background, I’m assuming she’s supposed to represent 2nd or 3rd generation immigrants? Because if she’s that mixed, that means her grandparents probably were the ones to immigrate, one each from DR, Cuba, Chile, and PR. That would mean her parents could also be American born. And she has a New York accent, not a Spanish accent, so English is her first language, but she seems to speak Spanish with perfect fluency and can switch back and forth no problem. Clearly Daniela’s first language is Spanish and she grew up in Puerto Rico, but I’m sure is 100% English fluent by now. In some scenes she had a stronger accent than others -- it was stronger in the salon scene than at the dinner party. Maybe Daphne hadn’t quite decided how strong she wanted to play the accent.

Daniela not buying Vanessa’s “friend” remark, ha, I just love how she’s so obsessed with everyone else’s love lives. And Carla’s “now that you mention it” -- she hadn’t even noticed that they had a thing going on, I mean, of course she hadn’t, it involves boy stuff, lmao.

While they’re still teasing Vanessa Carla puts her hand on the back of Dani’s shoulder and kind of grips her shirt.

Carla standing there with her arm around Dani while Usnavi is making his announcement, they literally just can’t keep their hands off each other. And then gripping each other in shock at his news. And I like how he calls them out as a couple, “Daniela, Carla, pack up the carro, I’m bookin’ a flight for DR tomorrow.” I’m a little confused about what he means though, since they’ve already packed, and what does their packing have to do with him leaving? Does anyone get this? Is he giving them Abuela’s furniture or something? 

I love how Carla is not afraid to just freaking GRAB both Vanessa and Nina when she’s teasing them, ha ha, she’s so handsy. She leaves Dani to dance with Benny, she’s like “Imma go grope Nina.” And her goofy laugh when Sonny says Nina was his babysitter is a gem. One of those moments where I remind myself “this actress is also Rosa Diaz,” but my brain still refuses to process it. I know objectively that it’s true, but my mind just can not accept it, it does not compute.

When Carla jumps down from the picnic table to let Usnavi get up there, and then Dani jumps up there too, Carla is staring at her with this wide-eyed open mouthed shocked face, I don’t know if she’s worried about her or just hella impressed and proud..

The last 30 seconds of this number are such an emotional climax and the characters look so deliriously happy, I can’t even believe they brought that much energy and joy and stamina given how many times they probably had to shoot this. These actresses are both older than me, and I would kill to have that level of energy.

In Carnaval, the split second scene before Daniela stoops to hug Carla there’s a scene of Daniela interacting with Vanessa and Carla has her hands on Daniela’s back and they’re both on the table, must be an editing mistake.

The hug at the end. I mean, tbh, this is the moment when there really should have been a kiss, it would have been the PERFECT time for it. But I can’t be that disappointed bc the hug is so wildly affectionate and ecstatic, like they just can’t get close enough.

The scene with the car driving away and Carla calling “we love you!” from the window makes me sad, partly because it’s the last we’ll see of them other than the closing number cameo, but also just knowing that for the characters, once that car leaves the Heights it’s never going to be their neighborhood again. They’ll come back to visit all the time of course, but it won’t ever be the same.

And I’m going to assume for my hc that Cuca is going along to help them unpack and set up the salon, but I don’t think there’s any real pressing reason for her to have to move to the Bronx herself. She’s just an employee, so she can take the train to work. It’s not the same as being a business owner and having to go in early, stay late at night, drop in at random moments on the weekends -- Daniela and Carla really need to live right by the salon, otherwise they’d spend outrageous amounts of time coming and going from it. Since the Heights salon abuts what looks like an apartment building right behind and next to it, I’m assuming they probably live right over the salon and only have to come downstairs to go to work.

During the closing number, I like that Carla is the first one to start singing, and that she gets to duet with Dani for that one bar before Piragua Guy comes in. They sound so good together! Also, it’s interesting (considering this is like a dream sequence) that Carla is wearing the same outfit from the dinner party, whereas Dani is wearing the outfit she wore in the opening number. It’s a little sad that they don’t get to be there for the grand finale, like in the stage show where everyone comes back out for that last climactic “home!” But for the movie it just wouldn’t make sense for them to be there, and Benny and Nina aren’t there either. But I’m sure they all see each other often and little Iris spends plenty of time being babysat by Aunt Dani and Aunt Carla. I bet she has so much fun running around the salon, listening to all those details she’s not old enough to hear.

And now just a few random things that are my own personal headcanons, but I’m just adding them here bc I don’t want to make a separate post. Others will no doubt have wildly different takes on some of this.

I’m getting the sense that they’ve been a solid, established couple for a good long while, based on how comfortable and familiar with each other they seem, and how the entire community seems to think of them as a two-shot. I would be shocked if they had been together for anything less than 5 years, could be as many as 10, especially since they’re both over 40. They might be married, or just living together.

And on the age topic, I’m personally just going with the easiest solution of having the characters around the same age as the actresses in my fic writing, about 40 and 50 respectively. But I’ve seen a few people making Carla significantly younger. My instinct would be to raise her age a bit, not lower it, since that would bridge the age gap more. Not that it’s even that big, but women are more sensitive and insecure about that stuff than men are. But I’m in my 30s so it’s no issue for me to write older characters, I can get why it would be more challenging for a much younger writer to write characters that are significantly older than yourself.

Re: family, I haven’t worked out a firm hc on this topic yet. I think probably a lot of Daniela’s family is either still in PR or has passed away, so her friends and Heights community are her family. I’m leaning toward thinking that Carla grew up with 3 older sisters and very conservative, religious parents, but she was nevertheless spoiled and a Daddy’s girl because she was the baby. Until he eventually found out she was gay, that is, when her parents pretty much rejected her. They refuse to meet Daniela at all bc they think of her as the woman sending their daughter to hell. (She’s still close with 2 of her sisters, the other one is a nun.) Carla doesn’t allow it to make her bitter, she just keeps trying and visiting them alone and refuses to give up on winning them over. Daniela wishes she would stop bc she thinks it’s useless, but she also doesn’t want to see her get her heart broken.

Finally, on sexuality: My hc is that Daniela had some experience with men before she realized/accepted she was gay, probably in her late 20s. She knows how to interact with men, she knows how to read them, how to flirt and charm them to get what she wants, and she knows which ones can be pushed around and which ones it would be a mistake to try it with. Carla OTOH seems like a gold star lesbian, like she realized she was gay when she was 12 and never had even the slightest interest in boys or men at any point. She mostly just seems oblivious to their existence and avoids them whenever possible, which is tricky bc she’s drop dead gorgeous and probably attracts plenty of interest that she doesn’t want. She doesn’t know how to read men or how to sense a threat and she never knows when to shut up, and it’s only a problem when they’re out late at night and they run into the kind of macho guys who like to hassle and challenge them, as if the very existence of lesbians is some kind of insult to men. (Y’all know the type.) If Carla has been drinking she can get pretty confrontational and bring that Boricua candela attitude, bc she’s like an attack dog when it comes to Daniela and their relationship. And it scares the hell out of Dani, because her deepest fear, the one she has nightmares about, is that one night on some dark street Carla will start shit with the wrong guy and that Dani won’t be able to protect her from the consequences.

Damn, that kind of ended on a dark note, didn’t it? Sorry about that. And please, let me know anything I missed! This is probably always going to be a very small niche fandom, we’ve got to help each other out. :)

Editing to add a compilation of interview quotes from the writers and actors about the relationship. Might as well have it all in one place!

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With Camila, I just wanted to be able to focus on Nina's story a little bit more. So if she was in conflict with her dad [Kevin, played by Jimmy Smits], it helped focus that story. When we lost Camila, I therefore had to balance it out and really do work to elevate Abuela Claudia [Olga Merediz] and Daniela [Daphne Rubin-Vega] to even more powerful matriarchal positions on the block.

Speaking of Daniela, was her and Carla's coupling always meant to be more of a wink, or was there more initially intended for them as queer representation in the film?

It may sound counterintuitive, but actually it's like marriage representation because when I cut the character of Camila, I just didn't want any critic anywhere to be able to say they all come from broken homes. So I was like, I need a married couple because I don't want anyone to try to spin that on me. And so I was like, oh, Daniela and Carla. They're the married business owners, and they've invested their relationship and their marriage in building this business together. And so that just felt very easy.

https://ew.com/movies/in-the-heights-writer-quiara-alegria-hudes/

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From In the Heights: Finding Home (book)

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LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA OPENED UP ABOUT HIS NEWEST PROJECT, IN THE HEIGHTS.

Gayety editor Caitlynn McDaniel sat down with the cast and creators to discuss filming in New York City, authentic representation, and a few new queer characters.

“Really it’s nothing more dramatic than Daniela and Carla, the women who co-own the salon, we just send them home together at the end of the night.”

In the original stage production, Daniela and Carla do not have a romantic relationship. But after Camila Rosario was taken out of the film adaptation, the creators wanted to make sure there was a healthy family dynamic still in the show. Miranda credits the change to the screenplay writer, Quiara Alegría Hudes, who chose to make Daniela and Carla a couple.

“It was a relationship that was already strong and already wonderful in the stage version of the show and we just kind of canonized that relationship and made them life partners in addition to business partners.”

https://gayety.co/lin-manuel-miranda-in-the-heights-cast-talk-queer-characters

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The two characters were portrayed as close friends in the original musical, though the sexuality of the two characters was not explored.

Daphne Rubin-Vega, who plays Daniela, told Broadway.com of the additions:  “Carla and I are girlfriends; we’re partners…. we cohabitate, it’s safe to say.”

Jon M Chu, who is directing the adaptation, confirmed to the outlet: “We’re doubling and tripling down on that [storyline]!”

Referencing a song from the show, Lin-Manuel Miranda tweeted: “Tell ‘em something they don’t know…?‍‍?‍?”.

https://www.pinknews.co.uk/2019/12/13/hamilton-creator-lin-manuel-miranda-lesbian-twist-in-the-heights-film/

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MW: In the Heights has so much to say and show about community as a family, the family that you’re born to as well as your chosen family. What is the message that you take away from the film about the families that we make and love?

BEATRIZ: Well, you actually said it best, the families that we make and love, because some of us are lucky enough to be born into families that accept and love us as who we are, and some of us have to find our way to those families. But I think for those of us lucky enough to experience unconditional love from, whether it be blood relatives or friends or people that you’ve invited into your life that love you unconditionally, having that community, that family, that chosen family, really buoys you up as a human being.

The thing we all recognized after the last year and a half of struggling globally through this really difficult time was how much we really rely on human connection and other human beings. And so this film, it’s so strange, the timing of it, but I guess it’s a universal and timeless theme, this idea of family, connection, humanity, and how much we need and rely on each other. I’m so excited for audiences to see this film at this moment in time.

MW: Carla and Daniela obviously are a family unto themselves. Something I appreciate about their part in this story is that they’re fixtures in the community. They’re not in need of refuge, they provide refuge, they provide comfort to people.

BEATRIZ: Many times in media we are presented stories that are about queer characters that automatically connect with dramatic events or sometimes traumatic events, and just one way of seeing people is not all that they are. For example, as someone who is bisexual and grew up with not that much varied bisexual representation in film and television and media, what I thought of as bisexual was, “Oh, no.” I had this idea that, “I can’t possibly be this, because this is over-sexualized, hyper-sexualized, villainous, duplicitous. I’m none of those things, and yet I feel that I am and identify as bisexual, and yet the characters that are presented to me in the media that I’m consuming reflects back to me that I’m bad. That somehow, at my core, there’s something wrong with me.”

What’s really cool about [In the Heights] is that in this very subtle way, you see these characters that are this functioning, happy, loving pair that are pillars in their community, and, in each other’s company, they are the best version of themselves, and other people actually flock to them because they make other people the best version of themselves. How lovely and thrilling to have that be gently sewn into the fabric of this entire community. Abuela Claudia accepts and loves them, Usnavi accepts and loves them, all of the characters take them for who they are. There’s no judgment, there’s no questioning, there’s no, “Eew, I don’t know.”

There’s none of that, which is so refreshing to see that on film, because that’s what my life is mostly like. Most of my friends accept and love me just the way that I am, there’s no questioning or weirdness. Maybe there’s some curiosity, but there’s never any drama or trauma around it for me in my chosen family. In its subtlety, it’s so special.

MW: It seems subtle to me because I wake up with a man, but it won’t be so subtle to everyone that we meet Carla and Daniela waking up together, which is really great.

BEATRIZ: Waking up together, yeah. It’s so lovely to see. It’s so, “Oh,” it establishes it so perfectly, so beautifully, so quickly, and so clearly.

MW: The film diverges from the stage musical in several ways that we won’t spoil here, but one way is that Carla and Daniela were not presented as a couple in the stage show. So, especially as somebody who identifies as queer, how important was that change in the film for you? Would you have been as interested if Carla and Daniela were cousins or best buddies?

BEATRIZ: I didn’t know that that decision was made until I was already cast, so it was something that I was really excited about once I heard that Quiara Alegría Hudes, the writer [of both versions], was thinking about this idea that, “Well, they’re already partners at work, what about if they were life partners as well? They’re such a unit.” It made sense to her in this new iteration of the story to make them a couple. And, like I said, I was already cast. I wanted to be a part of this film really badly because it is such an incredible piece of art, and it was like a dream to think, “I could work with Jon M. Chu.” I just think he’s such a special, incredible filmmaker. I saw Crazy Rich Asians too many times in the theater. I just think what he does is so special, and only he does it that way. He’s got such a magical lens through which he views the world. And so when I found out that Quiara was thinking about making this change, I was so excited and so supportive, and just fucking pumped that there was a possibility that they might be a gay couple, and the fact that they ran with it, it speaks volumes to the filmmakers, the producers, everyone at Warner Bros. that trusted that [the] storyline fit in this world.

MW: How much did it help that for a lot of the work you were doing, you’re in partnership with a master of musical theater in Daphne Rubin-Vega?

BEATRIZ: I found out that she was cast the same day that I found out that I was cast. My agents told me on the phone, “Daphne Rubin-Vega is going to be playing Daniela,” and I lost my shit. I mean I absolutely lost it. I had pictures of her all over the back of my bedroom door when I was a teenager. Rent was one of the first times that I really understood that there was a possibility that I, too, could be an actor, that I could do this as a profession and succeed, because she was so phenomenal in that role, and it was this worldwide moment where her talent — the talent of everyone in that show — but her talent and what she brought to the role by being herself, everyone saw it. Everyone acknowledged that that was a seminal moment in American theater and in American theater history, and it just made me feel like it was possible for me, too. She was an idol of mine.

I was a fucking mess the first day of rehearsal. I was just like, “Oh, no,” because I was so — I don’t want to say intimidated, because she’s not an intimidating person, but I was just so nervous to meet her. It was meeting one of my idols. And then to work with her was so amazing, awe-inspiring, eye-opening. She has a very different process than I do, but I learned a ton by watching her. She’s incredibly professional, and her voice sounds just amazing in this film.

I’m so excited for her to have this moment on film because she is so good, and she’s so good in this role. It’s really amazing. It’s like watching a priestess or something at work. You’re just watching something that you’re like, “I don’t understand how you’re doing this, but I can’t take my eyes off of you.”

MW: The word that came to me as you were describing that was “undeniable.”

BEATRIZ: Undeniable, yes. She’s an undeniable talent, presence, human being. She’s incredible.

https://www.metroweekly.com/2021/06/stephanie-beatriz-brings-queer-representation-to-in-the-heights-and-bids-farewell-to-brooklyn-nine-nine/

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Stephanie Beatriz is intimately familiar with the power of media representation. Growing up, she was inspired to become an actor by Daphne Rubin-Vega, who was the first Latina on Broadway she connected with. Now, because the universe has a wonderful sense of humor, she’s starring as Rubin-Vega’s partner in what’s sure to be the movie of the summer, Jon M. Chu’s In the Heights, based on Lin-Manuel Miranda and Quiara Alegría Hudes’s Tony Award-winning musical about a Latinx community in Manhattan’s Washington Heights neighborhood.

“The soundtrack of Rent [in which Rubin-Vega played Mimi] really provided me a doorway in to see the musical,” Beatriz remembers. “My family didn’t have money to go take a trip to New York so I could see a Broadway show, but I could get the soundtrack at the library and listen to it over and over.”

Unlike in the stage version of In the Heights, in the film, Beatriz’s character Carla is in a lesbian relationship with Daniela (Rubin-Vega), the owner of the salon she works at. For Beatriz, it was a full-circle moment.

“I grew up with a poster of [RubinVega] on my wall,” the bisexual actress confesses. “I had the cover of Newsweek that she was on with Adam Pascal taped to the back of my door in high school. And to me, she’s really legendary. So to make the jump as an actor to being in love with her was not hard for me at all, because she’s charming, very distinct, specific, beautiful.”

Beatriz adds, “I layered that in as much as I could, especially if Daniela is talking.” So it wasn’t difficult for Beatriz to portray her character Carla as “enraptured, glued, like it’s a master class, just watching it all unfold, watching Daniela’s personality take over the space of a room and the ambiance.”

She continues, “Any time Daniela might have a doubt, it’s Carla who steps up to the plate and tells her, whether it’s in her ear or out loud to everyone in the room, ‘You got this.’ I just loved that very much because I think that’s a real characteristic of a healthy relationship — one in which your partner sees the possibilities in you, sometimes when you don’t even see them yourself, believes that you are incredible, amazing, talented, the Lady Gaga list.”

Beatriz is especially excited to play a queer character in a movie where there’s no homophobia. When you see scenes with Carla and Daniela together, especially in the salon, you see, “lots of different shades of people, lots of different shapes of people, and different sexualities, and different expressions of self. That’s a safe space,” she says. “I think in many communities, the beauty parlor is a safe space, especially in Latino communities.”

It’s refreshing for the film to invite viewers into the life Daniela and Carla have created where everyone around them is accepting, “whether or not we know about their extended families is not the point of this,” Beatriz says.

“It’s really the family that they’ve created, the home that they’ve created in Washington Heights, is an accepting, loving place where they thrive.”

https://www.out.com/print/2021/6/09/stephanie-beatriz-helping-queer-latina-visibility-reach-new-heights

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But Chu and screenwriter Quiara Alegría Hudes have also crafted another new, inclusive element with two beloved characters.

Beauty salon owner Daniela and hairdresser Carla, while portrayed as coworkers and gossip buddies in Lin-Manuel Miranda and Hudes’ stage musical, will also be romantic partners on the big screen. Rent Tony nominee Daphne Rubin-Vega and Brooklyn Nine-Nine star Stephanie Beatriz play the two, respectively, in the movie.

Chu and Rubin-Vega had previously confirmed the evolution of the characters’ dynamic. At a recent press event celebrating the release of the latest two trailers, Beatriz discussed the significance of the decision. “What was so gratifying to me as a person who is queer is to see this relationship in the film be part of the fabric of the community,” Beatriz says, “and to be normal, and be happy and functioning, and part of the quilt they’ve all created.”

She continues: “So much of this film is about where home is and who home is to you. And for Carla, Daniela is home. Wherever Daniela is, that’s where Carla feels at home.”

https://www.playbill.com/article/in-the-heights-stephanie-beatriz-on-introducing-queer-element-to-the-movie-with-2-fan-favorite-characters

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Rubin-Vega said she had no interest in playing any trope of what one might think a lesbian Latina might look or act like, noting that the queer experience isn’t monolithic, while expressing that the role offered her a newfound freedom, especially with regard to being present in the role and in her everyday life.

“Spoiler alert! I felt like not wearing a bra was going to free me. Did I get it right? Am I saying that gay women don’t wear bras? No, it was just a way for me to be in my body and feel my breasts. To feel my femaleness and celebrate it in a more unapologetic way,” she said, laughing. “To be honest, I was really looking forward to playing a lesbian Latina. It’s something that I hadn’t really explored before. Latinos [can be] very homophobic as a culture, and I wanted to play someone who didn’t care about homophobia; I was gonna live my best life. That’s a bigger thing. It’s also like, maybe I’m bisexual. Who knows? Who cares? If you see that in the film, that’s cool too, you know?”

https://encoremonthly.com/hitting-new-heights/

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Let’s talk about your characters, Daniela and Carla. In the original Broadway production they ran the beauty salon together but their relationships has changed a bit for the movie hasn’t it, what do they mean to each other?

Stephanie: “They live together, they’re partners at work, they’re life partners, they love each other. To put a real clear stamp on it, they’re gay as all get-out! They’re gay, they’re queer, and they love each other and they’re this functioning, happy couple that work together, live together and have made a home with each other, for each other, and in each other. I personally love that it’s layered so subtly into the film because I think many times when we see queer characters, gay characters, we’re focusing on the stuff in their lives that’s hard for them and in this film, I think we’re focusing on the fact that, there’s hard stuff in the community for everyone, but there’s also joy and the ability to celebrate life, even though that hard stuff is going on around you.”

Daphne, as Stephanie mentioned it is quite subtle and I like that about it too. As their relationship isn’t explicitly addressed in the dialogue how did you express their love for one another and that intimacy through things like the body language and the dance as well?

Daphne: “Like Stephanie said, we were just a couple who care about each other so I think that that reflects in the body language. It was really wonderful to be able to have the freedom and ability to portray a character that loves who she loves without all of the sort of social stuff around it. They had to deal with adversity and challenges but being gay is not one of them.”

“Their gayness is also is not an issue for Abuela Claudia or Usnavi, or anyone else in the community. These are women who are loved and trusted, and respected; they’re protectors of their community, and kids are allowed in the salon, as are trans folks, whoever you are, if you want to get a weave, you can get a weave or nails, and who you sleep with, it’s so not about that.”

https://thequeerreview.com/2021/06/08/exclusive-interview-daphne-rubin-vega-stephanie-beatriz-on-their-queer-in-the-heights-characters-lgbtq/

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Daphne Rubin-Vega is Daniela, the pint-sized ruler (with a massive-sized voice) of In the Height’s Washington Heights block. Perched from the top of her five-inch tacones as she delivers hot gossip and a loving touch in equal measure. In the original stage production, Carla (Beatriz) is Daniela’s comedic sidekick, working alongside Cuca (Orange is the New Black’s Dascha Polanco) in Daniela’s beauty salon. In the film, Cuca and Carla’s antics remain, but Carla is also re-developed as Daniela’s romantic partner with quiet, lived-in moments across the week of one block’s summer heatwave.

So the three of us got together as the sun was setting on the East Coast to talk about the history of Latinas and lesbians in musical theatre, welcoming the ancestors into our space, and finding love in the small moments of the everyday. (We talked over each other a bunch, but if you’ve ever sat across from a table of your tías and primas on a Saturday night in the summer, you already know the vibes.)

Carmen Phillips:  First of all, I just wanted to say before we got officially started, I mean, I’m just beyond myself to be able to meet both of you! It means just the most to me. Daphne — I saw you in Rent when I was 12 years old and it was something that changed my life, which I’m sure you hear all the time and it’s not unique anymore, but it did.

Daphne Rubin-Vega: [brings hands together] Thank you. It’s a pleasure.

Carmen: Hi. Okay. We can start!

Daphne: Hi!

Stephanie Beatriz: Carmen. I’ve literally done the same thing to her. I feel I might’ve done it on the first day I met her. I was just…  [is at a loss for words]

Carmen: I feel probably lots of people tell you that, but I will never get a chance to tell you.

Daphne: No, you’ve gotta tell me! Yeah.

Carmen: Thank you.

And obviously, Stephanie. I mean, you’re a huge… Autostraddle is just a very big fan, all the time, so you already know that. Thank you both.

I wanted to start this interview at sort of the beginning of the process. I’ve been trying to read what you have said thus far about playing Daniela and Carla but I haven’t seen anyone ask this.

Obviously both characters are presumed straight in the original stage production of In the Heights. When you auditioned or otherwise introduced to the roles, were you already aware that they were being re-imagined as queer women? Or was that something you found out after? What was that process like?

Stephanie: I found out after!

I found out that it was even on the table — it was, “This might happen” — And I was so excited! And I voiced how excited I was IMMEDIATELY! I was like, “I think this is a great idea. I absolutely support it 100%. If you try to do that, I’m 100% in support.”

Daphne: Yeah. Yeah. For me, I had already gotten the role and so Daniela’s sexuality didn’t factor into a performance at all. Her humanity certainly did.

So after I got the role… Quiara [Alegría Hudes] called me and said, “How would you feel if Daniela… Instead of Carla just being her business partner, she’s her life partner as well.” And I remember being jolted by the change and thinking, “Yeah, fuck yeah. Of course.”

Quiara never ceases to amaze me with her elevation of the storytelling and humanity in its different incarnations.

Carmen: I think this really brings me into this next question. Daphne what you were just saying — for you, it was about elevating this humanity. And in one of the interviews I’d been reading, Stephanie had the chance to talk about [the relationship between Daniela and Carla], and she said “So much of the film is about where home is. And for Carla, Daniela is home.”

Stephanie: Yes.

Carmen: That got me thinking about what a moment this is that you’re both of entering into.

I did some research in our database and from what we can tell, in all of film history, there’ve only been 18 movie musicals that have had lesbian or bisexual characters. Period. Not even 20!! And of course, when you start thinking about…

Daphne: I was in three of them.

Carmen: Oh You sure were.

Daphne: Oh, whoa.

Stephanie: That’s… I just…

Carmen: And there’s nothing like In the Heights, when we shift our focus to think about the history Latinx film. And I’m sure you all know, the entire community’s buzzing, right? My mom is going, it’s the first movie she’s going to see in a movie theater in 18 months.

People are just dying for it, and I think going back to the conversation about what home is… I’m wondering what it feels like, for both of you, to be kind of sitting in this historic intersection, right?

This is going to be a film that really is going to exist on a planet of its own. And we’re going to see queer Latinas represented in that moment. I wondered if that’s something you’ve thought about? Or if it’s not even a thing that’s on your plate at all.

Stephanie: I’ve thought about it a lot!

I’ve thought about how this moment means something — but it will be so much more meaningful in 5, 10, 15, 20 years, when even more titles are in that database. Even more of these films have been made, even more of these stories have been told. Even more of these characters have been represented on screen, in television, in film, in all types of media.

It’s very exciting to think that we could possibly be a part of… a moment of someone looking at these performances or this film and going, “Oh, of course. Oh yes, yes. Of course. Why not? What was I thinking? Of course that exists in the planet.”

That’s a really thrilling thing to have the privilege of being a part of.

Daphne: Yeah. I fully agree. I mean, as an actress, it’s what we do. It’s my calling to embody characters that are not like me, to represent the humanity of who they are. And I think, that’s a really loaded thing for me, in my culture [Rubin-Vega is Panamanian]. Not my culture, in Latino culture, in particular.

In my country of origin, I find it’s struggled very much with homophobia and racism. Colonization, it changed the entire country, right? That’s our history. So without putting judgment on it, I think it’s really incredible, what we’re able to do here.

And Stephanie said it before, how queer stories, or stories of people who were marginalized, are made to be othered in certain ways. The stories of those who aren’t centered are then either shown as dramatic or traumatic, she said.

And in this instance, it’s neither dramatic nor traumatic! It’s so regular, it’s so basic, it just is. It’s just… “Yeah.” Yes, and it’s really not that deep and so we’re not playing queer characters, we’re playing human.

Stephanie: Also queer.

Daphne and Carmen in unison: Yeah!

Stephanie: There are people who miss it, honestly! I’ve definitely had the experience where I’m perhaps reading a review or I’m listening to someone’s experience about watching the film and they’re not even… They’re not even… [gestures like a plane flying overhead]… “Whoop.” It just flew by their face.

Whereas, for those of us who were paying attention because we’re trying to find ourselves on film, we see it immediately.

Carmen: I mean, this interview will run the day movie comes out, so I don’t want to reach too far into spoilers. But there’s a scene! It’s before the opening number, right? It’s before “In the Heights” begins. It’s intimate, playful. And I zeroed in right away, I was like, “Oh, we’re really here.”

And I think… so much of the movie is moving in ways you don’t expect, because it is so the everyday. But we never get to see OUR every day on screen. You know what I mean?

Daphne: Yes.

Carmen: And Stephanie, the question I wanted to ask you is, obviously you are very aware of how, again revered — which is why I say these last two questions for last! — you are in queer women’s communities. There’s the iconic Rosa Diaz in Brooklyn Nine-Nine. And I think one of the things that everyone, at least everyone I know, is really excited about is to get to see you play a queer Latina again.

I was personally excited because it’s just a different way to use your comic timing. Carla’s very different from Rosa. I was very curious about what that felt like for you to create these two really distinct queer Latina characters.

Stephanie: That’s really kind, first of all. So thank you for saying that.

I think, one of the things that’s been really fun for me about the process of shooting In the Heights — and creating my iteration of that character — was that it brought me back to the feeling that I used to have in Repertory Company, when I did a lot of theater. And I’d have a season where I was playing a bunch of small roles in a funny, new comedy by Culture Clash. And then I also was playing Maggie the Cat in Tennessee Williams’ Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

Carmen: wow.

Stephanie: And then maybe the next season I was Isabella in Measure for Measure and also playing another… I mean, Rep Company really teaches you… It can teach you how to use yourself in all of these different kinds of ways. And it’s one of my favorite things about being an actor is kind of using different facets of myself to help create these characters and bring them to life. And turning up the volume on certain parts of my personality and turning it way down on other parts, right?

I’m really excited for audiences to see me in a different way, I guess, it’s cool.

And I’m pumped at the confusion factor that comes along with that, right. Because I think people get confused when they meet me in real life sometimes because they expect Rosa Diaz.

Carmen: Right.

Stephanie: And I’m excited for the confusion factor that will come with, “Wait, that can’t be the same person that plays that character, right?” I love that, I live for that. I live for the confusion of, “Wait a minute, what?”

Carmen: I knew you were going to kill it. When I heard you got cast as Carla, I was, “Oh, that’s perfect.” Because, I mean, I really think your gift for comedic timing, it’s unparalleled.

Stephanie: [mumbles to self] Thank you very much.

Carmen: And Carla’s a small part that, I mean, is already memorable. It’s a small part with a big bang. You know what I mean? Like that is… [Carmen and Stephanie crosstalk, there’s never enough crosstalk].

Stephanie:  I’m lucky, I’m very lucky.

https://www.autostraddle.com/daphne-rubin-vega-stephanie-beatriz-in-the-heights-interview-daniela-carla/

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Who was your first celebrity crush? 

First celebrity crush was actually Daphne Rubin-Vega, from Rent. That was a cool, NOT AWKWARD moment when I met her for the first time ever, in real life. I was sweating, I was like AHH YOU’RE SO AMAZING AND BEAUTIFUL I USED TO HAVE A PICTURE OF YOU ON MY WALL, I’M SO SORRY THIS IS WEIRD. But it was also awesome. Of course I mentioned to Daphne that she was my crush. And I did it in the most awkward way possible, which is just, you know, right up my alley. I was like DAPHNE I LOVE YOU, right in her face. Which was awesome, and made for a really, really NOT AWKWARD rehearsal environment, at all. She likes me now, though.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eK7YLaUULG8&ab_channel=BuzzFeedCeleb

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Beatriz’s career is soaring to even greater heights this June, as she’s stepping into Carla’s shoes in In The Heights, which sets itself apart from the musical with a few key changes such as the decision to have Carla and salon owner Daniela (Daphne Rubin-Vega) be in a committed relationship. Beatriz considers it a “brilliant shift” to the original storyline. “To have Carla and Daniela be gay and layered into that community and be totally accepted, not struggling to be heard, or fighting because they’re out, or not being accepted by the people they love, but just part of the family, I just love that,” Beatriz explains.

It’s through LGBTQ+ representation in TV and film that Beatriz believes art can usher in positive change. It’s a discussion she is trailblazing with her refreshingly honest and nuanced portrayals of LGBTQ+ characters, like Rosa and Carla. “Art is the way to move humanity forward,” she says. “When you create art, there’s a possibility for creating empathy in other people. That’s really what it’s all about. You can’t start to see someone as your equal, or as a fellow human being that deserves all the same rights as you do, if you don’t see them in the first place. If you don’t see them anywhere around you, how will you know that they’re just the same as you? ... We really want all the same things in life: to feel happy, to be seen, to feel safe, to feel love. And we all deserve them.”

https://www.bustle.com/entertainment/stephanie-beatriz-pride-advice-pregnant-brooklyn-99-in-the-heights

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Rubin-Vega says that incorporating the queer story, emphasizing the plight of Dreamers, and focusing on brown and Black communities is “decolonizing cinema" and she's here for it.

“What other way are we going to address the structural oppression that has been perpetuated? How are we going to move it?” Rubin-Vega says of storytelling as a tool. “It’s an honor to play a character that has a lot of life,” she says of Daniela. “As you know, when I was just starting in theater, these roles didn't exist.”

“To play a woman that loves another woman is an honor to me. The symbolism of the salon. It's like the spiritual liberal hub. It's also like the gossip hub,” she says.

“We're just finding the language with how they would dress. You know, having to stop the stereotyping right [of queer women and queer Latinx people]? Musical theater is so extra. What a wonderful way to have extra-ness. And you know, and not be offended by tropes that use tropes as a way in,” she adds.

“We [Daniela and Carla] love each other … [it’s] ordinary, not extraordinary. It's just normal that these women get to be fully unapologetically in a community that we know has baggage around all the phobias, baggage around all the cultural trauma.”

Miranda’s story has always been about the beauty of a community and home — Rubin-Vega likens his rhymes to the impact of Shakespeare’s iambic pentameter.

In an interview with Broadway World, Beatriz says, “So much of this film is about where home is and who home is to you. And for Carla, Daniela is home. Wherever Daniela is, that’s where Carla feels at home.”

Rubin-Vega concurs. “I could not put it more beautifully than Stephanie. We didn't talk about our relationship. We just had the relationship,” she says. “Not only am I a fan of her work, but I'm a fan of hers. After knowing Stephanie, it's just like, Yeah, that's my girl. That's my boo. I feel that relationship ownership. I do have that I can honestly [say].”

A theater and film veteran who’s starred in Rent, Jack Goes Boating, Anna in the Tropics, and so much more, Rubin-Vega discusses the role of LGBTQ+ allyship.

“People in my life are [the] gay people in my life, like, a lot of people. I also have a bit of a hard time with the word ally because it is a verb, it's not a static noun. And [being an ally] is a constant behavior. It is a way of being in the world that is like breathing. And it's a consciousness for some of us more than others who have had been in so much privilege and living in supremacy.”

Daniela is presented as an integral piece of the Washington Heights community in Miranda’s story and Chu’s film. But the implications of that representation run deep. And Rubin-Vega has thought long and hard about it.

“Playing a lesbian — I can honestly think [about] my family legacy and just wonder how many unhappy ancestors I had,” who perhaps couldn’t live their authentic lives because of stigma, she says. “It's not something to get depressed about. It’s something to live toward when we represent our fullness.”

https://www.advocate.com/exclusives/2021/6/10/heightss-daphne-rubin-vega-ushering-queer-characters

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In “In the Heights,” Rubin-Vega plays Daniela, co-owner of a neighborhood hair salon with her life partner Carla (Stephanie Beatriz). The two were made queer for the film after being portrayed as straight co-workers in the stage show. Screenwriter Quiara Alegría Hudes called to tell Rubin-Vega about the updated relationship. “She’s like, ‘How do you feel about that?’” Rubin-Vega recalls. “I’m like, ‘I’m loving it.’

“Daniela is a high priestess of bad-assery,” she continues. “She’s a part of the person that I aspire to be, which is fully herself, making no apologies for who she is. She probably has earned her right to claim her fullness — self-empowered, self-employed, she has her own business. She touches other people’s heads, which is kind of a sacred thing in our culture, that we let people touch our heads.”

https://variety.com/2021/film/columns/in-the-heights-daphne-rubin-vega-1234991860/

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“Yes. Carla’s my life partner. There’s not a plot line about us being partners, but it’s very evident. Like, we’re just human beings that have chosen each other. So that there’s a representation."

https://www.nbcnewyork.com/entertainment/the-scene/new-york-live/dishing-with-daphne-rubin-vega/3063551/ 

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Beatriz is also playing salon worker Carla in the new film adaptation of Lin-Manuel Miranda's Tony Award-winning musical, In the Heights. Beatriz, who is openly bisexual, is excited that her character is in a same-sex relationship with fellow salon worker Daniela (Daphne Rubin-Vega), in the film -- a change from the Broadway show.

"In the original production, Carla and Daniela were simply work partners, but in this iteration, [screenplay writer] Quiara [Alegria Hudes] and [director] John [M. Chu] and [original playwright] Lin-[Manuel Miranda] all felt really strongly that they should be life partners are well," Beatriz shared. "What's really great for me as someone who is queer, as a member of the queer community, who is bisexual, is to see that rep in a film where it's just layered into the community, sort of in the background. And they're this really functional, fun, happy, funny couple that just happen to be gay."

https://www.kmov.com/stephanie-beatriz-teases-what-brooklyn-nine-nine-fans-can-expect-in-shows-final-season-exclusive/article_208dd9b5-dde4-5814-9c17-2b5e3e8defac.html

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What do you find most interesting about Daniela?

Every shred of me was excited about playing this role. I'd worked with Quiara in Miss You Like Hell, and because of my history with Quiara and Lin, I knew about In the Heights and saw it. Daniela is such a powerful character. She's diminutive, but you can feel her presence whenever she walks into a room. It was interesting to further explore her relationship with Carla, her life partner and business partner, and her dynamic with Cuca and the rendition of the salon in a filmic way. There were no restrictions with Quiara, Lin, and Jon.

Women often have an ambivalent relationship with ambition, so it's interesting to think about it within the context of the movie. Was that something you thought of when you were shaping your take on Daniela?

I don't know if ambitious people call themselves ambitious. I consider myself ambitious, but what's the ambition? The ambition is to live a full life. The ambition is to live a complete, free, unapologetic life where I can love who I want to love and live where I want to live, do what I love to do, wear what I want to wear, and have friends I want. If that's ambition, isn't that the American way, the pursuit of happiness? I think that Daniela, because of her appearance, her attitude is amplified, but if she looked different, she'd be a regular strong chick. Her choices wouldn't be questioned; she'd be pragmatic. She's priced out of the barrio that she loves. She'll be present in some ways, but her business will be gone.

https://www.theatermania.com/new-york-city-theater/news/interview-daphne-rubin-vega-on-portraying-daniela_92380.html

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MW: Yeah, Carla is not Rosa at all. I would also say that your characters tend to sound distinctly different. How do you find a voice for a character?

BEATRIZ: I think that’s part of the fun. I spent a long time, as a kid, with lots of time on my hands. My parents worked a lot, and my sister and I would often come home and watch ourselves, and one of the things that we did at home was we had this Fisher-Price recorder. It was a little tape deck, and I don’t know where we got it, but you could put a tape in and record yourself. We had a few blank tapes, but we also taped over a lot of my mom and dad’s music — sorry, Mom and Dad — but we would record ourselves doing shows, like radio shows, where we would do different voices, we would interview ourselves, we would interview each other, we just screwed around.

But, in doing that, it was us finding funny and weird voices and stuff. That was the beginning of me acting, I think, playing around with that tape recorder by myself. And I think it’s just a really fun thing for me to do voiceovers and voices, and find my way into a character through sound. It’s one of the things that was so fun about being in In the Heights, was the music and finding my way into the character musically, and basing character choices on what Lin had already written in the music. I think that’s so fun. And the musicality of language is something that I’ve always been drawn to and interested in.

https://www.metroweekly.com/2021/06/stephanie-beatriz-brings-queer-representation-to-in-the-heights-and-bids-farewell-to-brooklyn-nine-nine/

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The beauty of upper Manhattan is on glorious display at a hair and nail salon featured in the movie musical “In the Heights.”

Daphne Rubin-Vega, Stephanie Beatriz and Dascha Polanco help capture the culture and values of a Latino neighborhood in Washington Heights through the women who run the popular salon.

“They provide an example of how people in your community can become part of your family, really your chosen family, and that those people are deeply invested in not only seeing you succeed, but really seeing you thrive as a person,” Beatriz, 40, told the Daily News.

“They also provide this incredibly safe, loving space, particularly for the women in this story, but really for all of the characters. ... It’s this incredible place of celebrating beauty of all kinds.”

The salon serves as a central hub of the film premiering Wednesday at the Tribeca Film Festival before arriving Thursday in theaters and on HBO Max.

Adapted from Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Broadway musical, “In the Heights” brings back the fan-favorite salon ladies Daniela, played by Rubin-Vega, and Carla, portrayed by Beatriz, while introducing Polanca’s Cuca as a new character.

The stars agree the salon represents much more than a place to get a makeover.

“It symbolizes dreams,” Polanco, 38, told The News. “Small-business owners. What we like to call iconic figures within our community. They’re like hood celebrities, legends, what can I tell you? They’re there, and they have everybody’s back.”

“In the Heights” takes viewers inside the colorful salon during the lively song “No Me Diga.” But the women are also depicted outside the salon as significant figures within a neighborhood where every resident strives toward big goals.

Daniela, Carla and Cuca kick off the standout song-and-dance number “Carnaval del Barrio,” during which characters sing with reverence about their homelands.

“It’s a celebration of life in the face of all kinds of adversity,” Rubin-Vega, 51, told The News. “This determination to be joyous, and how powerful that in itself is. Yeah, it is beautiful to see flags flying and everybody going, ‘Oh, there I am!’ But more than that, it’s just that feeling of belonging.”

The “In the Heights” stage musical introduces Daniela and Carla as work partners, and the movie updates their relationship to be life partners as well.

“It’s just part of the background of the film, and that’s really vital, I think, for [LGBTQ] audiences to see themselves be part of the fabric of the film, and not necessarily have their stories always be coming-out stories or always be tragic stories or always be stories that are fraught with drama,” Beatriz said.

The actors felt personal connections to their characters. Beatriz, who was born in Argentina, remembers her mother befriending fellow customers and staffers at the salon she went to after moving to the U.S.

Polanco recalls her visits to a local salon when she was young, and loves how “In the Heights” covers that aspect of the community.

“It’s what instills confidence. It’s what instills trust, and amongst these three ladies, that’s what they give back to everyone else,” Polanco said. “In this community of Washington Heights, this is where they go to release, to motivate, to express, to get advice, to make harsh decisions, to console. It’s a revolving door of what I [call] noncertified therapy.”

https://www.wyomingnews.com/features/movies/in-the-heights-stars-share-what-the-movie-s-salon-ladies-represent/article_e2f853ed-978a-562d-8aaa-fc48b73b709f.html

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(Not specifically about the romantic relationship, but a great article about Daniela, Carla, and Cuca.)

Stephanie Beatriz, Dascha Polanco, and Daphne Rubin-Vega Are the Holy Trinity of In the Heights“

We were the witches with a cauldron, stirring the pot,” says Rubin-Vega of the trio, who reunited to chat about dance numbers, bodega orders, and the best kind of gossip.

https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2021/06/in-the-heights-stephanie-beatriz-dascha-polanco-daphne-rubin-vega

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I love that your character is a part of this trio of neighborhood divas that are just so much fun. What was your relationship like with Stephanie Beatriz and Dascha Polanco and how much fun did you guys have together?

RUBIN-VEGA: Oh my goodness! Doing nothing with them was fun. Ad-libbing was fun. I don’t think anyone’s funnier than Stephanie and Dascha, and when they’re together, it’s just nonstop. There’s also a realness. We all come from places and spaces where we had to outlast the negativity to get where we got, so that creates a certain energy in a human being that is irresistible because we’re really happy to be here.

https://collider.com/daphne-rubin-vega-in-the-heights-interview/

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Salon Squad

“I could do those costumes for the rest of my life and still find new things to do with them,” Travers said about designing for Daniela (Daphne Rubin-Vega), Carla (Stephanie Beatriz), and Cuca (Dascha Polanco). This adaptation has added a romantic dynamic between Daniela and Carla, which Travers incorporated in costumes he envisioned Carla had borrowed from Daniela’s closet — “maybe it was a windbreaker she had from 20 years ago; now it’s vintage to  Carla.” One reference point for the salon owner, he says, is Sex and the City designer Patricia Field. “Pat is such a fearless risk-taker when it comes to her own personal style and also her body of work is quite fearless,” Travers explains. “We took a light inspiration from Pat herself, just in terms of that risk-taking and the combinations of high and low.” Daniela’s powerhouse status includes a nod to Rosie the Riveter for her biggest musical number and Travers also points out that while this character’s wide-leg leopard print pants felt like a risky move at the time, “of course, now, fashion is all about the big pant.”

Meanwhile, Carla has “much more of an Instagram sensibility” with a Nikita Dragun influence. The streetwear-inspired sneakers, bike shorts, and crop top athletic spirit go further than “dress for likes” on social media, “there is heart in it.” Rounding out the trio is Cuca who wears a “head-to-toe [look] Monday through Sunday.” Describing this character as “unbelievably fun to dress,” he explains that if she is wearing a printed dress then her fanny pack, socks, and scrunchie will match. Travers’ favorite salon squad costume moment was creating a weekend nightclub look that resulted in a strong unifying motif: “Three women in jumpsuits — no dresses — just jumpsuits going out. I had such fun as a costume designer getting to express a similar idea through three very different sets of eyes.”

https://www.vulture.com/article/in-the-heights-costume-designer-interview.html

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Behind the scenes pics from the In the Heights: Finding home book:

https://azalea-in-wonderland.tumblr.com/post/656073091546529793

Behind the scenes pics from cut scene of Daniela, Carla & Cuca -

https://azalea-in-wonderland.tumblr.com/post/656283840034357248

[divinefireangel]

Scream Princess

SF9 Jaeyoon x F! Reader Smut.

YES I USED THIS GIF ON PURPOSE 😈

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Author's Note: Listen. I fucking hate frat boys okay 😂. So this was easy to write cause Jae is hot and I'll do anything for him 🥰 This is the longest fic I've written so far. And I'm proud. I hope you like it anon! I have to warn you, I didn't include the choking sadly 😔 slipped my mind. But I still hope it lives up to expectations 🥺.

Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: 18+ ages and female readers (nothing specified with respect to appearance, etc of reader). Fuck buddies/enemies to lovers. We live for that cute shit. Rough sex. Mentions of blowjobs. Fingering (f receiving). Jae calls reader 'princess', just incase I wasn't clear. And it's smut, so your typical smut warnings. Nothing overboard don't worry. But do let me know if I need to add something more. Not proof read. Excuse the errors.

Requested: Yes! By a lovely anon 🖤

frat! boy jaeyoon and you have a love hate relationship. you love him when he chokes u and calls u princess, hate him every other second. maybe he gets so jealous at a party seeing u play pong w someone else that he takes u upstairs to make u not hate him and to let everyone else youre his.

2.8k Words ;)

It was a simple arrangement. When either of you are horny, you fuck. And the rest of the time, you pretend he doesn't exist. Ugh how you hate fratboys. But Jaeyoon is hot. You gotta give him that. And he works out a lot which is very much seen on him and the way he tosses your around when you fuck.

Sex with him is just so fulfilling. He'll give you everything you want. The passion. The speed, always fast. The way his tongue always makes you so hot. Just thinking about it makes you wet. The way he stares at you with so much hateful fire that you mirror, when he's so deep in you. The bruises he leaves when he grips you so tight you can't escape from under him. The soreness you feel after every session of sexual entanglement is just delicious. You hate it.

But what you enjoy most is how he calls you 'princess' while fucking your guts out. The rest of the time, you can't tolerate his existence. It makes you wanna roll your eyes so hard they might get stuck. You hate his playboy manners, the way he always acts like he's so cool cause he's a part of the most popular fraternity on campus. You hate how he's so cocky and acts like every girl walking would just drop their panties if he told them to. You hate that he thinks he's better than everyone. You hate him, so much.

And so here you are, at one of his frat parties, as much as you didn't want to be here. Even after insisting that you're busy and don't want to go to the party, your friends and roommates didn't buy your excuses, stating that you need to get a boyfriend or at least get laid. Oh if only they knew. Standing in the corner of the lawn, a red solo cup with disgusting beer in your hand, you stare cringingly at the mess of hot bodies grinding against each other, desperate for god knows what. Yep. You are definitely not attending another such, event.

" Hey you busy? " A voice asked.

Looking to your right, then left you notice a cute guy, who was clearly looking at you. Blinking you look at him with a blank expression. What's he playing at, you wonder.

" Oh right sorry. I'm Youngbin. We're playing Beer Pong and we're a player short and you are standing here by yourself so I thought you could join us. If you want to, of course. No pressure. " He said flaying his hands around innocently.

Well you do have nothing to do right now, might as well follow the cute guy. Who knows, he may ask you out.

" Yeah sure! I'd love to. I'm Y/N, by the way. "

" Ah. Nice to meet you. Are you a freshman? "

" Sophmore actually. "

" Oh nice. I'm a senior. A few freshmen students are still underage, gotta be careful you know. "

" Oh yeah I get it. But you should know that they are at times wilder than us. " Giggling at your words, he leads you towards the table, finally reaching.

" Oh great you found someone. I'm Zuho. " Another cute guy said. Wow you were really gonna miss out if you'd stayed in your room.

" Y/N. " You said as you shook his hand.

" Okay so it's 3 versus 3. You guys start. " Zuho said to the collective mass, starting the game. Winning a few, and losing a lot of ping-pong balls, you were finally happy. A little tipsy, but still sober enough to do a math problem, you continued to play the game, now having more players on each team. Surprisingly, you were good at the game and not so surprisingly, you started to get close to Youngbin. Slight lingering touches on your arm, your waist and the tingle that went down your body when he moved you hair so you could focus on bouncing the ball. Maybe the ball wouldn't be the only thing that would be bouncing soon.

" YO YOUNGBIN! " A booming voice called. Oh no. You knew this voice. You knew it really well. Begrudgingly you turned to look at none other than Lee Jaeyoon. Of course the fucker is here. He's at every party, trying to hook up with random girls who all seem to be interested in him.

Staring at you intently as he hugged Youngbin, You wished the ground will open up and swallow you whole. Why was he here. You were having so much fun. Well who says you can't have fun with him right here, staring at you like you were a piece of candy. Yeah nope. Time to go home. Vibing with the music, you slowly start to step back as everyone at the pong table started to talk to Jaeyoon. After stepping far enough, you turn on your heel, ready to strint away. Feeling someone grab your wrist, you're turned around with so much force you crash into a hard chest, hands going to his shoulders to stabilize yourself. Looking to see who stopped you, you're met with a cocky smirk, adorning the face of, well you guessed it.

" Where are going? I thought you were having fun so I came to join you. And you decide to leave without telling me? I'm hurt princess. " He says, the smirk only getting bigger as your blood boils with rage. This fucker. If given a chance to wipe out someone's existence completely, you'd choose him.

" Yeah well. Since you're here, it won't be fun anymore. "

" Oh is that how it is? "

Nodding yes, you step away from him, crossing your arms as you try to look tall next to his broad, tree like, super climbable figure. Stop it. Don't think of him like that. Not now at least.

Running his tongue on the inside of him cheek, he looks down at you. He looks hot. And angry?

" Well princess, I'm hurt. Right here. " Pointing at his chest, he moves closer to you. Breath hitching, you stare at him wide eyed, as his face comes to your eye level.

" You seemed to have forgotten out arrangement princess. "

What is he talking about. Was he drunk? Sniffing, you check if he was drunk. He wasn't. Which is shocking. Grabbing your upper arms and pulling you near with his hands, his lips move to your ear.

" I'm not happy with the way you were getting so close to Youngbin. You shouldn't do that when you have me. "

" Excuse me. What. " You say, breaking free from his grip. Looking at him, your face screams, 'Are you crazy'. Well someone should.

" What the fuck do you mean ' you're not happy'. Last I checked, I'm a free independent woman, who is single, and would very much like a cute caring boyfriend AND who doesn't just wish to be someone's fuck-buddy. So if you may, I'd like to go ask out Youngbin. " Smiling bitterly, you try to make your way around Jaeyoon, only to be grabbed by the wrist and pulled back into Jaeyoon's muscular chest.

Glaring at you, he starts to walk towards his room, a path you aren't new to, as his grip on your wrist tightens, pulling you with him. Entering the room, he pushes you in, then locks it. Stumbling, you grab his chair so you don't fall. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

" What in the actual HELL is wrong with you! What the fuck dude. Why are you acting like this all of a sudden? Is it cause I was actually happy flirting with Youngbin? Last I checked, I don't belong to anyone. And especially not to you. So don't go around acting like you're my boyfriend because you aren't. And don't at all act like you care about me because the whole wide freakin world knows that you care about no one but yourself. So move, before I kick you so hard you'll have to go the hospital. " To say you were angry would be so wrong. You were furious. His existence infuriates you.

" I like you. "

" What? " Is he for real? Manipulation? Really?

" I'm not trying to manipulate you. I really do like you. And I wasn't happy seeing you get touchy with one of my friends. " Is he a mind reader or something? Probably. I mean he does know what you want when you just whine and writhe under him as he pleasures- Wait no! Stop.

" Why tell me now? " You ask calmly, well as calm as you could get without letting your guard down.

" Because... I don't know okay! I just, I just couldn't stand there as he got close to you. When it could've been.... Well could be me.... " He said slowly. You've never seen him so, vulnerable. He looks like a sad puppy.

" I'm sorry but, are you sure? " Chewing on your lower lip, you wait for him to reply. How can he like so suddenly. It's not natural right?

" I am. I really like you. And I want you to be my strong independent girlfriend. I want to take you out on a date. A real one. Many dates. Please just give me a chance. You won't regret it. " Taking your hand in his, he rubs his thumbs over your knuckles. Dramatically, you life your eyes up, only to find him looking at you with puppy eyes. Nodding your head slowly, you swallow. Breaking a grin on his face, he places your hands on his wide shoulders as he connects your lips for the first time this evening, his hands wandering from your waist to your hips.

" Oh baby. I'll make sure you never regret this decision. " And with that he places his hands on your ass, tapping it so you jump in his arms. Obliging, you connect your lips again, wanting to feel them melt against yours as you process what's happening. Placing your on the table, he removes yours and his jackets, throwing them on the floor somewhere. Moving close to your seated figure, his hands find themselves on your neck, tilting your face up to kiss you again and again till you're both out of air in your lungs. He slowly grinds his hips to your front, your knees going around his hips as your hands tug at his shirt.

Stepping back he removes his shoes and shirt, exposing his well toned chest and abs to you. Removing your footwear and freeing your hair, you beckon him to come to you as you bite your lip seductively. Smirking, he obeys you, coming as close to you as you want. Lips meet your neck, one hand to your hair, pulling it till your head tilts back exposing the flesh on your neck to him, his other hand wandering up under your top. Hunching it in your palms, you remove your top as he wastes no time to undo your bra, freeing your breasts to the cool air of the room.

Kissing down your body, his lips latch on to your left nipple, hand toying and twisting the other. Arching your body into his face, you grab his hair, pulling it like you always do. Releasing your nipple with a pop, he begins to undo his belt with one hand. Raising his free hand to your head, he advances in your direction till your chests meet, skin to skin, heat to heat, and lips meet once more.

Without breaking the kiss, he discards his pants, leaving him in boxers. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he lifts you up moving the two for you to his bed. Gently he puts you on the matress, hands finding the button of your jeans, undoing it and pulling them down your legs. Staring in your eyes he bites his lip, freeing it sexily he leans his face down to your neck, kissing, biting and marking you with little lovebites.

Rotating your head to the opposite side you gasp when you feel his fingers rub your folds over your panties. Lifting your upper body off the bed slightly your hands grab hold of his wrist that's on your needy mound. Keeping them there you begin to grind yourself on his fingers, releasing breathy moans of constricting pleasure.

" Fuck princess, you look so hot grinding yourself against me. Let me take care of that for you. " He whispers on your ear, chills travelling down your body reaching just where you need him. Letting go of his wrist, you grab onto his shoulders, pulling him down to kiss him again. Moaning in his mouth when he moves your panties to a side with his fingers, touching your wet pussy. Groaning at how wet you are, he easily slips in two fingers in your hole, pumping them slowly. Breaking the kiss you curse at the feeling of his thick digits moving along your entrance.

" Oh fuck. Yes- Please don't stop " You gasp when he touches your g-spot with his fingertips at the same time his thumb finds your clit. Increasing the pace of his fingers, he presses his nose on your cheek, breathing out ragged breaths as he grinds his dick to the matress at your moans. Roughly he rubs your clit pulling out as you cry in protest, feeling empty. Opening your eyes at the loss of warmth above you, you feel his hands pulling your panties down your legs, noticing his hard length, tip so red he would probably cum if your wrapped your mouth around him. Ripping open the condom, he rolls it on his cock, forcefully making your lay on your back as he enters you whole. Crying out at feeling so full with his dick deep in your pussy, you arch your back adjusting to his thick length. Slipping an arm below you when you do so, he licks your lower lip, biting it and pulling at it.

Drawing his hips back just a little, he slowly starts to ease himself in you, body rocking against yours, hair falling down on your forehead, hands grabbing your waist to keep you in place. Pressing your fingers into his back you chant his name, encouraging him to go further and faster. Being the mind reader he is, he pulls out almost whole, before ramming his cock in as fast as he can. Screaming out in pleasant surprise you hug him tighter, allowing him to go faster and faster till you lose your voice.

" Princess. You're so tight around me. Yes baby, scream my name " He growls in your ear deeply, the coil in your stomach getting tighter with each thrust, feeling full till your stomach every time his dick is balls deep. And feeling just as empty when he drags out. Your hole stretched out to accommodate his thick girth, making you think it might tear open. Jaeyoon is driving his cock in and out of you so rapidly you can feel you juices leaking out of your pussy, drawing you closer to your orgasm.

" Jae. I'm gonna- I'm close " You warn him, wanting to cum undone together.

" Yeah baby me too, fucking scream my name for me princess. Please I need you to. Scream princess! " Rubbing your clit, he freezes at sensation of your walls closing around his dick just as tightly as your legs close around his hips. Screaming his name out so loudly, your body jerks and squirms shamelessly as you cum on his cock, squeezing his till he's dumbfolded above you and helplessly cums in the condom.

Falling on top of you gently, he catches his breath, chest heaving heavily as you slowly unclench your legs and pussy, also catching your breath, enjoying your post orgasm euphoria. Whimpering when he pulls out, your body convulses around air, still not over your high. Blinking your eyes, you close them slowly, feeling tired out due to the mind blowing orgasm you just had.

Feeling a damp cloth on your sore folds, you open you eyes unwillingly, looking at your 'boyfriend' who's cleaning you up. And who has already worn sweats. Going back to the bathroom, he throws the towel in the laundry basket, returning to the room and handing you one of his shirts and clean boxers. Shyly you put on the clothes given to you.

" Oh don't go all shy on my now when you were just screaming my name a few minutes ago. " He says laughing. Blushing you wait till he comes to sit behind you, laptop in one hand.

" Wait what about the party? " You ask, wondering why he's switching on his laptop.

" Eh. It's just another party. And I have you here now. You're all the party I'll ever need. " Pulling you close by your waist, he makes you sit between his legs, covering your legs with his comforter. Throwing a pillow on top of the comforter, he places the laptop on it, playing a newly released movie. Nuzzling into your neck, he pulls you closer and wraps his arms around your frame as you both started your first binge session.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 14 - Sinking Deeper [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤ 

Ps: Special thanks to Bea for helping me!

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking.

Word Count: 4180

Summary: Not every night is for sleeping.

All things considered, you were sure that you were supposed to be more stressed out than you were right now. The FBI still had nothing on the copycat killer that had sent you flowers, or any of the others that were running wild all over the country. BAU was working nonstop because there was more and more pressure coming from the supervisors and higher ups, and Spencer had told you something about the profile evolving but hadn’t gotten into details.

Not that you would ever ask him to, what you heard was more than enough.

Despite all that, whenever you were with him, you managed to feel almost…peaceful. It was so unfamiliar to you that it had taken you a moment to acknowledge what it was.

Happiness. Pure happiness, enough to get rid of the mind-numbing panic and worries about the future.

Or, as your sister had so eloquently put it, you were so, so screwed.

You took a sip of your mimosa, texting Spencer under the table, barely aware of the conversation taking place but you had to look up when you heard your name being called.

“Would you want to, Y/N?” your mother asked and you frowned.

“Hm?” you asked, your eyes stopping on Lily playing with her dolls by the corner of the huge living room before you looked at Mina and Kenzie, “Sorry, what were we talking about?”

“There’s this opera—“

“Nope,” you shook your head fervently, “No way. It’s Mina’s turn.”

Mina let out a whine, “I hate you so much right now.”

“She has a point,” your mother pointed at Mina, “Your sister was the one who came to the charity ball, you can come to this one.”

Mina heaved a sigh while Kenzie reached out to hold her hand.

“Babe come on, it could be fun.”

“Exactly!” your mother said, “Thank you, Kenzie. Besides, Nolan is coming as well, so we will be two couples there. Y/N, of course if you want you can bring Spencer—“

“I’m not exaggerating when I say I’d rather spend an hour in my serial killer father’s cell with Spencer.”

Your mother rolled her eyes and Mina tilted her head.

“Nolan Yates is coming too?” she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I’m spending a whole night with the boss of my boss?”

“You two should get to know each other!” Your mother said, “Besides, there’s no harm in telling your bosses that you should become a partner already—“

“Mom,” Mina cut her off, “We talked about this. I will earn that position by myself, not because of anyone’s influence. Including yours.”

Your mother sipped her drink, “It’s as if you like struggling, Mina.”

Kenzie looked between them and smiled brightly, trying to diffuse the situation. “I’m actually pretty curious about him,” she said, “Since you’re a couple now, I just need to see what kind of a person he is.”

“There’s nothing to see, babe.” Mina murmured, “The guy looks like he spends millions alone on his beard care and wears bowties to bed.”

“Yeah but bowties are cool,” you grinned and a silence fell upon the table.

“I will get back to you sleeping with my boss’ boss in a minute mom but—“ Mina cleared her throat and turned to you, “I’m sorry, was that a Doctor Who reference?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I started watching it because Spencer likes it so much. It’s actually pretty fun, he said we could go to Sonic-Con next year if I want.”

“Comic-Con.” Kenzie corrected you helpfully and Mina blinked a couple of times.

“Jesus Christ.”

“I don’t get it,” Kenzie said, “I told you to watch it with me and you said, and I quote It has like one billion episodes Kenz, I don’t have time for that.”

Mina stole a look at Lily to make sure she couldn’t hear you before she turned to Kenzie, “Yeah, the difference is that you weren’t dicking her down.”

“Nobody is dicking me down!” you whispered, and your mother gasped, putting her mimosa glass down.

“Girls, not at the breakfast table!” she insisted, “Not that this kind of language is acceptable anywhere…”

“Yeah Mina, leave her alone,” Kenzie said, “I think it’s sweet.”

“What’s next? You will want to get a doctorate as well because he likes them so much?”

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” your mother mused out loud, “Y/N, I know the lovely dean of—“

“No!” you pointed at them, “No to both of you. And thank you Kenzie.”

Before your mother could say anything, Lily ran to you to climb into your lap.

“Hi there bug.”

“Can we play after brunch?” she looked up at you, making you smile at her before you pinched her chubby cheek, making her giggle.

“Of course,” you said, “Dibs on green unicorn.”

“I like pink better,” she nicked a piece of cheese from your plate, “Are you talking about your prince?”

Mina smiled into her glass, “Something like that sweetheart.”

“Lily, why don’t you ask auntie what you asked me the other day?” Kenzie told her and Lily nodded fervently.

“Can I wear pink on your wedding?”

“Whoa-“ you cleared your throat, “Lily, baby, there’s no wedding.”

Kenzie and your mother grinned at each other and turned to you and Lily but she looked as if she was confused.

“But if he’s your prince…” she trailed off and Kenzie cleared her throat.

“I would like to come up with a tamer version of that question,” she said, “When do we get to meet him?”

“Mom and Mina already have,” you said but your mother shook her head.

“That doesn’t count.”

“Because you treated him like you were going to hire him?”

“Oh you did the same to him as well?” Kenzie asked your mother, “I thought Mina would have a heart attack when you did that to me.”

“I honestly thought you would break up with me after that.”

You fixed the huge bow on top of Lily’s hair while she sat still in your lap, listening to the conversation.

“How about dinner?” your mother said, “It’d help us to get to know him better.”

“Nope,” you shook your head, “It’s too early.”

“Oh come on Y/N!”

“I will introduce him to you guys when I’m sure you can behave.”

“He has spent hours with dad, you do realize that?” Mina asked with a small laugh, “You think he behaves? The guy is a—“

“Mina.” Kenzie nodded at Lily and Mina stopped herself immediately but Lily had already heard it.

“I thought your dad was a bad man, mommy.”

“He is, baby,” she nodded, “That’s why he’s far away, remember?”

“Then why is auntie Y/N’s prince talking to him?”

“Because he catches bad people, bug.”

Lily gasped and looked up at you, her eyes shining with excitement, “Like a superhero?!”

“Mm hm, like a superhero,” you grinned at her and she fidgeted in your lap.

“When will I meet him?”

“Yeah Y/N, when will we meet him?” Kenzie batted her lashes and you pointed at her.

“That’s evil, you know that right?” you asked, ignoring Mina’s laughter, “Low blow.”

                                                 ***

Towards the evening, right before it was time to meet Spencer he had texted you, saying that they would be doing overtime at work. You were bummed, but you still texted back to tell him it was alright, that you would be going home and he could drop by whenever he was done.

After having dinner, you went to the couch with a bottle of wine and turned your laptop on to take a look at the files your assistant had sent you. Campbell wedding was almost done, Vincent had sent you a couple of new ideas to add into the theme, and you had to email back two pastry shops to confirm the wedding cake orders.

You were so lost in work that you had barely realized downing the half of the bottle and it was only when your phone started buzzing on the coffee table that you looked away from the screen of the laptop.

“Hi Lincoln,” you answered the phone, still typing your replies to your assistant and he took a deep breath.

“Hey,” he said, “Are you watching it?”

“Watching what?”

“TV. They’re talking about the copycat killers.”

“What?” you grabbed the remote to turn on the TV and of course, the first TV channel you found was already covering the story.

“The FBI has confirmed that the body that was found dead earlier today belonged to one of the copycat killers that has been—“

“What the fuck?” you murmured, keeping your eyes on the screen and he cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” he said, “I know it’s creepy but I mean…I don’t know, isn’t that a good thing?”

“Someone killed one of the copycat killers?” you asked, “That makes no sense at all.”

“Do you think it’s the same one?” he asked, “From the charity ball?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, “Jesus Christ.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, “I didn’t know if I should call, but…”

“No no, I’m glad you did.” You muted the TV, then filled your glass again, “What’re you doing?”

“Just leaving work,” he said and you raised your brows.

“Linc, it’s eleven p.m.”

“I had to attend a meeting overseas.”

“Workaholic.”

“I prefer the term hard working,” he chuckled, “How about you? You weren’t sleeping, right?”

“Nah, I was waiting for my boyfriend,” you said, making him pause for a moment, “And checking client files. And drinking.”

“You’re lucky you can deal with your job while drinking, these sharks would pounce on me if they ever saw me like that.”

You took a look at the TV and typed in the copycat killer’s name into the search bar, sipping your wine.

“You’re being safe, right?” he asked you, “I haven’t heard from you for like a week or so, you’re alright?”

You pressed your lips together, trying to decide whether to tell him about the flowers or not, but in the end you decided not to.

“Family drama,” you said, “I’ve been running everywhere, and what with work and everything…Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be silly,” he chuckled, “Just wanted to make sure you were alright, that’s all.”

“I’m alright—“ you started but then looked over your shoulder when you heard the doorbell ring, “Gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure thing, see you,” he said and hung up, so you jumped over the couch to rush to the door before you opened it to see Spencer standing there.

“Hey,” you smiled at him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, “Long day?”

He nodded silently and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you closer to inhale your scent.

“Hi,” he muttered into your hair, “Yeah. Long day.”

“I have wine?” you said as you pulled back, and closed the door after he stepped in, “I also have a bathtub even you could lose yourself in.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” he said and hesitated for a moment, “On second thought, do you have coffee?”

“Are you sure you want to drink coffee at eleven at night?”

“I still have some reports to go over,” he said, stepping into the living room while you put the coffee on and his eyes stopped on the huge screen that was still giving details about the copycat killer.

“You saw that huh?”

“Mm hm,” you watched him as he dropped his satchel and you went to sit down next to him on the couch. “I was checking the other news. That’s why you had to work overtime?”

He rubbed at his eyes and ran a hand through his fluffy hair as if it would help, “We thought the profile was changing but this whole thing just proves someone is trying to keep it stable.”

You pulled your brows together, “What?”

“The victimology didn’t match with the last two victims, and now one of the copycats ended up dead, probably the one who went rogue.”

“How did it not match?” you blinked a couple of times, “They all left a flower in the crime scene, no?”

“Well yeah, but the rest—“ he stopped for a moment, staring at you, “You never actually checked his victimology?”

“I never watched any of those interviews he gave after he was imprisoned, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, and those interviews are the reason why we still don’t have a specific suspect because everyone knows everything about him, and most of your family life,” he heaved a sigh, “But you know what his victims had in common?”

“They all bled out while he watched,” you crossed your arms, leaning back to the arm of the couch, “I know that. He liked watching that.”

“Your father never killed anyone outside his social circle,” he reminded you, “They were all wealthy and overly successful people, remember? That’s why it took FBI so long to find him, because the previous profile was wrong. They thought it was someone who didn’t have access to the same resources, the same wealth and status, and it was for revenge.”

“Yeah but Spencer, he killed those people because he is evil.”

“He killed those people because in his mind, he was creating this…perfect business environment. Most of the people who got murdered were either failing business people or people who failed to meet his expectations. He was very successful, he expected the same from everyone. That’s his victimology. The flowers on the crime scene, they were just his signature. Well, his signature and his small offering to you.”

You thought for a moment, then went to the kitchen to pour him a cup of coffee before walking back to the couch.

“I still think this is a bad idea professor,” you muttered as you gave him the cup and he smiled at you, then took a sip while you lit up a cigarette.

“So then,” you crossed your legs, “His victims were the cream of society and that means something? Other than the fact that he was a psychopath?”

“That means a lot of things,” he said, “So far, most of the victims had a higher status in society, it means that the copycats actually wanted to continue his legacy from where he left off. Maybe not the people who disappointed them per se, but until these last two victims, they all had higher financial status, either family money or with their own successful companies but last month, someone first killed a bartender and then a social worker. The only thing that told us it was remotely connected was the flower in the crime scene.”

“That’s why the profile was changing,” you muttered to yourself, “Okay. Is that normal?”

“No, not at all,” he shook his head, “It’s very unfamiliar. It did prove our multiple copycat killers theory but other than that, it was going to make things incredibly harder until…” he nodded at the TV and you pulled your brows together.

“Hold on,” you sat up straighter, your mind working nonstop, “Multiple copycats who are trying to continue that monster’s legacy, and one happens to taint that legacy by going rogue…”

“And he gets killed,” he finished your sentence for you, “Exactly.”

“It was one of the copycats who killed him?”

“That’s my theory.”

“So they’re not actually working together then?” you asked, exhaling the smoke, “Or- or- wait, you said there could be one copycat that was controlling the others, maybe they did it?”

Spencer took a sip of his coffee, “It could also mean that the leader wouldn’t want to take chances like this again,” he said, “Someone tainted the legacy, he might begin to believe he cannot trust anyone with that again.”

You let out a breath, stubbing the cigarette, “What does that mean then? For…all of this?”

“It means that someone cares so much about your father’s legacy that they’re ready to kill anyone and everyone over it, even their partners,” he said, “It also means that their whole operation is starting to crack. It’s only a matter of time someone makes a mistake and ends up getting caught.”

You massaged your temples, “Well, at least one of us can see the light at the end of this psycho murder tunnel.”

“You can’t?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “It feels like it won’t stop,” you croaked out, “It’s like… It’s like I can’t wake up without dread filling me. It’s always there, at some corner of my mind. The more I think about it, the more I feel like—“ you stopped yourself and Spencer frowned, putting his coffee down.

“What?”

“You don’t want to hear that, trust me.”

“Try me.”

“The more I feel like it will go on until the day I die.”

“It’s impossible for this case to take that long, Y/N—“

“I didn’t say it’d take long,” you took a sip of your wine and heaved a sigh before you looked up at him, the expression on his face almost hurting your heart physically, “Told you that you didn’t want to hear it.”

“Don’t say that.”

You forced a small laugh and got up from the couch, suddenly restless.

“You said it yourself,” you said, pacing in the living room, “His victimology. He went after the people who disappointed him, right? Can you guess who’s disappointing him right now by not turning into the monster that he is?”

“That’s not what I—“ he shook his head fervently and stood up from the couch as well, “No. No way. It’s his victimology, but none of the psychiatric evaluations or anything on his file, including the list of his victims suggest that he would go after his family. There was a reason why he never tried to hurt you or Mina or your mother even back then—“

“No I’m sure they’re safe,” you said, “But Mina didn’t get flowers, professor. I have.”

“If our theory of him being in contact with the copycat is right, it means that your father is involved as well—hey,” he stopped you from pacing, reaching out to hold your hands in his, “Listen to me. Whoever it is, they will never, ever touch you. I’ll make sure of that.”

A painful smile pulled at your lips, “Spencer, that’s not your responsibility.”

“It is.”

“FBI can’t—“

“I’m not talking about the FBI, I’m talking about me.”

You took a shaky breath and wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your face into his chest as you swayed slightly.

“Is it okay if we stay like this for a moment?” you muttered, shifting your weight from one foot to another “I don’t— I can’t sit still, I don’t know why.”

“Do you want to hear the reason why?” he ran his fingertips over your spine up and down, as if trying to soothe you and you nodded.

“Yes please.”

“You feel threatened, so your brain is trying to understand where the danger is coming from. It’s telling you to either stand or run away, so it’s pumping adrenaline into your system. We call that nervous energy.”

“That could be my stripper name,” you mumbled, making a chuckle vibrate deeply in his chest, “Tell me more.”

“The nervous energy happens when you’re under stress,” he said, “Our primitive brain is used to physical threats and it created this system in order to protect us. The threat you’re afraid of is not here, not physical, but your brain is still sending that energy to your limbs so that you can attack that physical threat, or run away to somewhere safe. It’s all a part of your defense mechanism.”

You hmmed into his chest, still holding him tight as if someone would take him away from you before you sniffled and pulled back to look up at him.

“You know, I think I got something you can’t explain with science.”

He raised his brows, “Debatable.”

“Do you want to bet? If I win, you’ll tell me what you planned for the next date.”

“What if I win?”

You wiped at your nose, “Tell me your price, professor.”

“There’s this conference on smoking and its effects on health next week, if I win you will attend that with me.”

“That’s a very indirect way to say that you hate my smoking.”

“I mean, it’s better if you see the effects in that conference, I think it’ll be good for you. It has five sessions, so it’s around….7 hours, including breaks.”

You blinked a couple of times, then nodded. “7 hours? That’s— okay. Yeah, I’m sure— I’m sure it’ll be fun.”  

A smile pulled at his lips, “Okay,” he said, “What is it?”

“It’s just,” you nibbled on your lip, trying to find the right words, “I was thinking and I realized something. I— I think it’s instinctual somehow, you can’t really explain it with science but when you’re here…” you paused, “With me, I mean, this whole panic dissolves. I feel safe, and it’s so unfamiliar that I don’t—“ you let out a small laugh, “I don’t know how to deal with that. I normally don’t feel safe, ever.”

A small smile pulled at his lips and he tilted his head, his warm gaze focused on you. You scrunched up your nose.

“Don’t tell me science can explain that.”

“Oxytocin.”

“God damn it!” you exclaimed, making him laugh, “Oxytocin?”

“Yeah, oxytocin. It’s a hormone that ensures that you trust people along with everything else. Basically, your brain— when you’re attracted to someone, your brain releases dopamine, so your serotonin levels rise and it produces oxytocin. It’s a big part of romantic attachment, it’s released during sex as well.”

You arched a brow, a small smirk flashing over your face and he pressed his lips together, a look of mischief appearing on his face.

“It strengthens fidelity as well,” he explained, “Seeing your partner as more attractive than others, and preferring to interact more with your partner than strangers.”

You clicked your tongue, “7 hours of conference, here we come.”

“It’ll be fun, I heard they’re bringing a real lung.”

“Can’t wait,” you muttered and entwined your fingers with his, “Well for what it’s worth professor, I have a lot of oxytocin for you.”

He cleared his throat, “Scientifically, one of the most important aspects of it is reproduction, in females it triggers labor and in males it moves sperm so having a lot of oxytocin can be—“

“Spencer, I’m trying to talk dirty in a scientific way!” you groaned, a fire spreading over your face because of embarrassment and you took a step to walk away from him but he grabbed your hand to turn you around and tug you closer to him, making you let out a whine.

“I feel like an idiot,” you murmured and he shook his head fervently,

“No, of course not,” he said, pushing your hair behind your ear, “Hey. I don’t know anything about weddings. So we complete each other if you ask me.”

You scoffed a laugh and looked up at him, your brows furrowed together, “You really think that?”

He nodded and you heaved a sigh.

“Okay.”

“And…for your information,” he swallowed thickly, “I have a lot of oxytocin for you too.”

A giggle you couldn’t stop escaped from you as he leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss, making your stomach do a pleasant flip. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your lungs full of his scent, making you dizzy.

“They’ll take away your doctorates for that joke, professor,” you breathed out as he pulled back, resting his forehead on yours while you raked your nails over the back of his neck gently.

“Worth it,” he murmured to your lips, leaning in to kiss you again, this time pressing you closer to his body and your heart started beating in your throat, a whine climbing up to your throat, desire filling your system faster than any other drug.

“Would you like to stay the night?” you whispered, and his eyes shot up to yours, both of you aware what you were really asking. He looked almost hypnotized by the sight of you in his arms and he blinked a couple of times, as if trying to focus before he nodded.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice hoarse and you took a shaky breath.

“Yeah,” you managed to say, your whole being consumed by this moment. “Yeah, I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

You could swear he could hear your heartbeat echoing through the room,

“No scientific explanation this time, professor?” you whispered against his lips and his fingers caressed the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a pleasant shiver from there to your whole body.

“No,” he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against yours, “Not this time. Not for the lady who imparadises my mind.”

The lady who imparadises my mind.

That was how Dante described Beatrice in Paradise.

You stood on your tiptoes to pull him into a kiss, then tugged at his hand to lead him into your bedroom.

Chapter 15