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helloalycia · 4 years ago

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teenage dirtbag [four] // wanda maximoff

summary: Things finally explode between you and Nate, and Pietro decides to get to the bottom of whatever is going on between you and Wanda, though in usual Pietro fashion AKA not subtly at all

warning/s: none.

author's note: this is very beefy, i must admit, but i think you'll all enjoy the outcome 😂💘

Dinner with the Maximoffs wasn't as strange as I envisioned. Her parents were sweet and the twins did their best to make me feel comfortable. Wanda still seemed mildly frustrated whenever Pietro and I would talk though, and I figured she may have thought I was lying when I told her I didn't like him like that. I hoped that wasn't the case.

After dinner, Wanda took me upstairs to show me her bedroom. I'm not sure how to describe it other than it seemed so Wanda.

"I'm guessing red is your favourite colour," I said when I saw the hints of scarlet in her bedroom. On her walls, in her bedding, on her pillows. Just like her car and her jacket, they were all bright and very her.

"Great observation, Sherlock," she teased with a sly smile.

I returned the smile, sticking my tongue out at her playfully, before having a walk around and coming across her massive CD collection and CD player. Her music taste was actually quite similar to mine, which I definitely didn't expect. It just made her ten times more attractive to me which wasn't good, but oh well. I was here for a good time, not a long time. And my crush on Wanda Maximoff would surely be the death of me.

"D'you have any CDs at all?" she asked, joining my side when she noticed me staring at the shelf.

I crossed my arms, glancing at her. "Don't get me wrong. I'd love to collect them, but it's just so much easier to have Spotify, y'know?"

My intention wasn't to make her laugh, but God I was glad I did when her eyes crinkled and the sound rang around the room, making my heart pinch with adoration.

After giving me some of her pyjamas, the two of us got ready and brushed our teeth before I realised she wanted me to share bed with her.

"You wanna watch some TV before bed?" she asked, clearly not registering my hesitance to slide into her Queen-sized bed.

I swallowed hard. "S-sure."

She turned on the TV at the end of her bed as I slipped in beside her, still a bit rigid as I kept a fair distance from her.

"What you feeling? Comedy? Drama? Horror?"

"Anything is fine with me," I said, still tense.

She hummed in acknowledgement before leaning down on her pile of pillows behind her, edging closer to me. My heart was hammering in my chest as her hair tickled my arm from where she was laying.

"You comfortable?" she checked in, leaning backwards so her head was upside down to see me. "I have more pillows if you need them."

I offered her a small smile, hoping it disguised my nerves. "I'm good."

She nodded before flicking through the channels and eventually settling on reruns of The Office. It took time, but I eventually overcame my initial shock of sharing bed with the girl I had a major crush on and instead relaxed, getting comfortable under the covers.

After watching some TV, we called it a night and fell asleep quite quickly, the day taking its toll on us. For once, I wasn't panicking about doing something stupid. I simply fell asleep, trying to ignore the heat she emanated from beside me.

It was a peaceful night – her bed was super comfortable – and I woke up to the sound of Wanda moving about in her bedroom.

"Shoot, I'm sorry, did I wake you?" she asked when she saw me moving about under the blankets. I tried to blink away the sleep as she continued, "I was gonna wake you soon. School starts in an hour."

I rubbed my eyes, yawning, before sitting up and seeing she was practically already dressed. That meant she would have been up for a while, meaning she would have seen me fast asleep. God, I hated when people saw me sleeping. It always felt so weird.

"It's okay," I got out tiredly, before running a hand through my hair.

"You sleep well?" she asked, spinning around in her chair, her makeup half done. "I tried my very best not to use you as a teddy bear."

She was joking, but I felt my neck grow warm at the thought and damn, it was just way too early to be flustered.

"Yeah, I slept great," I settled, feeling her gaze on me. "Thanks again for having me over."

"Anytime," she said, and something told me it wasn't just a friendly response but that she actually meant it. Maybe it was the kind smile on her lips as she said so. "Just like last night, if you wanna use anything in the bathroom, go for it."

I gave her a thumbs up, taking a moment to wake myself up a little more, before heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I returned to Wanda's room, I saw she'd already made the bed and had laid my clothes on top of it.

"I've got a shirt you can borrow," she said when I grabbed my jeans.

"Oh, I can just wear the same thing again, it's no biggie," I told her, already grabbing my shirt.

She pouted before grabbing a shirt from her closet. "Just hold on. You'll love it."

In no time, she came out from her closet and held out a Paramore tee shirt on a hanger towards me.

"I got it from the last concert I went to," she explained. "I thought you'd like it."

I couldn't help but smile at the thought. "Wow, Wanda. Really? You don't mind?"

She nodded, shaking the shirt as emphasis for me to take it. I did, having a look over it and smiling to myself.

"I'll wash it and give it back to you tomorrow," I promised, taking it off the hanger and holding it with my jeans. "Thanks."

"You can keep it," she said, scratching the back of her head apprehensively. "I've got loads."

"Oh, no, I can't do that," I began to deny, but she shook her head.

"It's fine, I'm giving it to you," she said, before smiling sweetly. "I'm sure you'll look better in it anyway."

Again with the warmth spreading up my neck...

"I doubt that," I quipped with a small smile.

"Go! Go get changed," she said, already pushing me towards the door. "I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast."

I snickered, letting her shove me into the hallway, before heading into the bathroom to get ready. The shirt was oversized, so there was no need to be worried it wouldn't fit. It was actually really nice, plus I liked it that extra bit more knowing Wanda gave it to me. Though I knew I wouldn't keep it. It was hers and she was just being nice.

When I finished making myself look presentable, I headed downstairs and found the twins at the kitchen counter, chatting between themselves. Their chatter ceased when I walked in, with Wanda biting her lip and looking me up and down with satisfaction.

"I was right," was all she said, making me nervous. "You do look better in it than me."

—

The day after that, I did as I said I would and returned Wanda's shirt to her, washed, folded and ironed. Knowing she wouldn't accept it without a fight, I left it in her bag when she wasn't looking during class.

I should have expected her to approach me at my locker afterwards.

"It was supposed to be a gift," she said, and I saw her pretty face reflected in the mirror hung inside my locker.

I turned around, already knowing what she was talking about.

"I told you I couldn't accept," I said politely, giving her a small smile. "I appreciate it though." She seemed disappointed which obviously didn't help with my feelings for her, so I took a leap and added, "Maybe I can get my own at their next concert. In the summer, right?"

She picked up on what I meant and smiled, stifling a laugh. Running a hand through her hair, she met my gaze and I found myself frozen in place as always, unable to look away. I wondered if she knew what she was doing when she did that, knew that she was giving me heart palpitations every time her lips turned into a playful smirk and dark eyes studied me curiously.

My eyes drifted to her lips subconsciously and she must have put on some lip balm or something, prior to finding me just now, as they looked shiny and pink and just so damn kissable. Nate was one lucky guy.

—

Having faced issues with Nate three times now (AKA the three times he happened to launch a football at my head), I'd figured I wouldn't be seeing the last of him. He was a dick, meaning he had a natural inclination to piss people off, particularly me. But I never thought he'd go for Y/BF/N.

We were chilling by our lockers, chatting about his film project, when his books suddenly got knocked out of his hands and he was shoved against the lockers. I straightened up when I saw it was Nate, looking pissed off as he had Y/BF/N's shirt bundled in his fist.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I shouted, trying to shove him off, but he merely pushed me back.

"This isn't your business," he said to me before glaring at Y/BF/N, who was quiet with panic. "You. You've been hanging around my girlfriend and I don't like it."

The colour drained from Y/BF/N's face as Nate slammed his hand to the lockers beside his head, startling him.

"I want you to stay the fuck away from Wanda!" he ordered, and students were starting to pick up on the fight that was clearly about to break out. "You fucking hear me, you nerd? Stay the fuck away!"

Poor Y/BF/N nodded his head, eyes avoiding Nate's. Meanwhile, I was angrier than Nate probably was. Y/BF/N had done nothing wrong. Maybe Nate had just seen Wanda hanging with me and because Y/BF/N was always with me, assumed the worst. Either way, this was no way to handle the situation and I was not gonna let this dick threaten my friend.

"Get the fuck away from him, Nate," I said through gritted teeth, glaring a hole into the side of his head.

Nate barely glanced my way. "I told you this isn't your business, honey."

"Five seconds," I said, standing behind him as a crowd began to form. "You've got five seconds or I'm gonna kick you."

He seemed to ignore me as he tightened his grip on Y/BF/N's shirt, only pissing me off more.

"Five," I began to count down, the grip on my books tightening with nerves and anger. "Four."

He still didn't look my way, just kept slapping Y/BF/N's face to scare him.

"Three, two, one," I said quickly, tired of giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Without waiting anymore, I kicked him between the legs with full force, watching as he instantly let go of Y/BF/N and doubled over. Everybody began to laugh, some making 'ooh' noises, but the consensus was clear – it definitely sucked to be Nate right now.

I tried not to laugh as I watched his face scrunch with pain, turning red. I was starting to appreciate my choice of wearing my doc marten boots today.

"No more balls for the guy who keeps throwing them at my fucking head," I got out, jaw clenching.

He looked up, his face crossing with realisation as he recognised me. In response, he glared in my direction, but it didn't faze me.

"Come on, Y/BF/N," I said, looking to my startled friend. "Let's go."

"What on Earth is going on over here?!" a teacher's voice rang out in the distance, and I groaned internally.

When I turned to leave, I heard Nate from behind me, grunting with dissatisfaction.

"Fuckin' dyke," he mumbled under his breath, and I paused, clenching my fists.

"Y/N, don't–" Y/BF/N tried to stop me, but I was too pissed to care.

I spun around and punched Nate square in the face, feeling good as his smirking face scrunched in pain and his back hit the lockers from the impact.

"Woah!" a teacher came out of nowhere, shoving herself between us and pushing me away from him. "What the hell is going on here?!"

I shook my hand to ease the pain on my knuckles, though the pain couldn't stop the grin on my lips as Nate raised his hands to his face, holding his busted nose. Students were going crazy, egged on by the potential fight, and for once, I didn't mind the attention. Nate had that coming for a while now.

"Everybody back to class! Now!" the teacher yelled, glaring all around her, before her eyes settled on Nate and I. "You two. Nurse's office now."

Nate glared at me behind his bloody nose and, once again, I tried not to laugh. Y/BF/N patted my back, amazement written on his face, before letting me leave with the teacher and an unusually silent Nate.

—

Kicking Nate in the groin and punching him in the face wasn't something I did to get attention, yet that's exactly what happened. Word of the incident spread around the school quite quickly, so much in fact that even students from other grades became aware of the situation and were approaching me to tell me how awesome I was. The whole thing was definitely strange, but I could tolerate it.

What I couldn't tolerate was having Chemistry after lunch and wondering if Wanda knew.

Would she hate me for punching her boyfriend? I wasn't sure. I just knew that when she walked into class and sat next to me, I felt everyone's eyes subtly watching us as if waiting for her to explode at me.

I'd been given an ice pack for my bruised hand after my visit to the nurse's office earlier whilst Nate had been treated for his broken nose (the fact that I'd broken it was hilarious to me, since I knew I wasn't even that strong). The principal had a very angry yell at us both in his office, neither of us willing to reveal the premise of our fight, before giving us detention every day after school for two weeks straight as punishment. Of course, Nate got his two weeks at a different time to mine for fear I'd punch him again (he definitely didn't like that, but he couldn't exactly say that to to principal).

I didn't bother using the ice pack in Chemistry for fear Wanda may ask what was up. I successfully managed to hide my hand and as a second surprise of the day, Wanda mentioned nothing about the incident. Not one thing about her boyfriend, about Y/BF/N, about any of it. I thought she might hint at it, trying to get me to bring it up. But she didn't which made me think she actually had no idea it even happened. Had anyone told her? Had he told her? Nah, probably not. His fragile masculinity probably caused him to change the story to something else so he didn't look like a wimp in front of his girlfriend.

Whatever it was, I was safe for now.

Thinking I'd got away with a confrontation from Wanda, I went about the rest of my day as usual. Well, that was until I was replacing some books in my locker at the end of the day and saw Wanda at her locker behind me, arguing with– yep, you guessed it. Nate.

Y/BF/N was collecting some books from his own locker beside me and we both exchanged looks as we saw the two lovebirds in a heated argument. Just when we were about to leave, someone cleared their throat from behind us, making us turn around.

Wanda was stood there, backpack hanging from her shoulder, beside Nate, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else but here.

"Hi," he started quietly, making Wanda clear her throat. He glanced at her before looking to Y/BF/N. "Look, man, I'm really sorry about earlier. I was wrong about what I said. We cool?"

I tried not to laugh at the way Nate was being forced to apologise by his girlfriend. Y/BF/N glanced to me with questioning eyes, so I simply shrugged.

"I guess...," he finally answered Nate, still a little awkward.

Nate nodded before looking to me. He still had his reservations, judging from the twitch in his expression, but for Wanda's sake, he kept his cool.

"I'm sorry for treating you badly," he said reluctantly. "With the football and just generally."

God, it was so hard not to laugh in his face right now. His nose had gauze taped to it and it made him look like an idiot. I fake coughed to disguise my smile, before meeting his gaze.

"It's, er, cool," I said, not in the mood to be an arsehole to him, even though he deserved it. I'd punched him – I think we were equal for now.

He nodded, before staying quiet. Glancing to Wanda, he waited for her to say something. She rolled her eyes and nodded for him to leave. When he was gone, she sighed tiredly.

"I only heard about what happened after Chem class," she said, mainly to me, a guilty expression on her lips. "I'm so sorry he acted like a jerk."

I chewed my lip, unsure what to say.

"It's okay, Y/N here took care of it," Y/BF/N said, smiling with amusement at me. Okay, well now she definitely knew.

"Yeah, sorry you felt you had to do that," she said with a grimace. "I guess he deserved it though."

"Kind of," I agreed, before noticing the regretful frown on her lips. "He apologised though. It's already happened. I kinda broke his nose... No point in dwelling on it."

She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah..." Her eyes fell to my bruised hand before lifting it gently. I winced at the ache, but let her hold it, studying the purple bruise painted across my knuckles. "That looks bad."

It felt good punching him though, but I wasn't about to say that since it was her boyfriend I was talking about.

"It's alright," I said dismissively, shrugging. "Nate kind of got it worse. I'll live."

The pad of her thumb stroked the bruise gently and I held my breath, the feeling of her hands holding mine sending shivers up my arm. Her eyes flickered to mine, softened with guilt, before she let go of my hand.

"I should head home," she said after a pause. "I'll see you both tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," Y/BF/N said for both of us, sensing my loss of words.

Wanda held my gaze once more, eyes half lidded as they glanced down. Before I could even question what she was looking at, she waved goodbye and left.

"She's either starting to realise what a dick her boyfriend is or she's just really into you," Y/BF/N said, patting me on the back. "Maybe both, who knows?"

—

"You definitely cheated," I told Y/BF/N once we finished yet another round of air hockey. "Nobody wins six times in a row like that!"

He laughed at my expression. "Tell me, dear Y/N. How would I cheat? The concept of the game is simple, really. It's not my fault you're terrible."

I rolled my eyes lightheartedly. "Seventh time's the charm. C'mon."

He chuckled, about to put more money in the machine, before his eyes got distracted by something behind me. "Well, would you look at that. The Maximoff twins are here."

"Very funny," I said with a knowing look. "You can't throw me off like that. We've established I'm already terrible. Now c'mon. Let's go!"

"I wish I was joking," he said, shaking his head.

I scoffed, not believing him, and turned around to prove him wrong, but I was surprised when I saw Wanda and Pietro walking into the arcade we were in. They seemed to spot us instantly, waving in our direction before approaching us.

"Fancy seeing you here," Pietro teased with a smile as they stopped before us.

I cracked a smile as Y/BF/N joined my side. "We're hanging out. And you?"

Wrapping an arm around his sister's shoulder, he tugged Wanda close to him. "Sibling bonding time."

Wanda rolled her eyes at his childishness, but I could tell she found it endearing all the same.

"Well, if you want, you can hang with us," Y/BF/N offered, and we all looked to him, myself raising a brow his way. He seemed to sense my reluctance, it egging him on as he grinned at them. "Y/N doesn't mind. Do you, Y/N?"

I swallowed hard as I looked between the twins. "'Course not."

And that's how I found myself playing arcade games with the Maximoff twins that Saturday afternoon. It was actually pretty fun, with Pietro being as competitive as I was and Wanda being the sweetest loser with everything she played. It was so adorable, but I ended up letting her win some games of skee-ball just so I could see that cute nose scrunch of hers as she realised she'd won.

"You gonna let me win like that, too?" Pietro caught on as he took his sister's place in playing against me. He had a mischievous grin on his lips and I felt my mouth go dry at what he was implying.

"You wish," I said, playing it cool, though I wondered if he cared that I clearly let Wanda win. He wouldn't read into it, right?

Pietro took his go as he spoke. "So, I heard what happened with you and Nate at school last week."

I closed my eyes, cringing at the reminder. Pietro merely laughed.

"You kicked him super hard, right?" he asked excitedly. "I heard his face went so red with anger that you could fry an egg on it! And don't forget that punch, goddamn what I would pay to have seen that!"

"Pietro!" Wanda scolded from behind us as her and Y/BF/N played air hockey. "Don't be a tool!"

I felt my face heat up with embarrassment as Pietro continued to laugh. Y/BF/N joined in whilst Wanda tried to hide the smile dancing on her lips.

"You're not even together anymore," Pietro called to Wanda between laughter. Wait, did I hear that right?

"You and Nate broke up?" Y/BF/N asked with disbelief. "Our grade's 'it' couple broke up?"

Wanda ran a hand through her hair to distract from her flittering eyes. "He treated you horribly last week. Both of you." She glanced my way before looking at her shoes. "He was a jerk. It was long overdue... Also, I would have broken up with him there and then had I known what he'd said to you. I'm sorry he said what he did."

She stared at me with apologetic eyes and I wasn't sure what to say or do other than nod awkwardly and look away. The fact that she'd broken up with him put a smile on my face though.

"I just think it's awesome," Pietro admitted, before saluting playfully to me. "Thank you for your service. I knew you were awesome, but this is a whole new level."

I sighed, attempting to hide my smile, before straightening up to play. Pietro and I played some skee-ball before I decided to have a go at the claw machine. Wanda was at the one beside me, attempting to win herself a fluffy black cat plush toy. She'd had three goes before giving up, admitting to defeat.

"Typical Wanda," Pietro teased. "Giving up when the going gets tough."

She punched him in the arm, making him jump and rub it. That elicited a smile from her, making me laugh at their immaturity.

"How about Wanda and I go and get a table in the diner next door whilst you finish up winning whatever it is you're trying to win?" Y/BF/N asked, looking to me, as if assigning blame.

"I already told you, I'm not leaving this machine until I win at least one thing," I stated stubbornly.

"The amount of money you've put into the machine won't make up for whatever you win," Y/BF/N teased with amusement.

"Just go," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "I'll be there soon."

"I'll wait with her," Pietro said, resting a hand on my shoulder, making me shrug him off jokingly. "See you soon," he added with a laugh, to his sister and Y/BF/N.

When they left, I looked to Pietro with an amused smile. "I don't need you to look after me, y'know."

He shrugged and looked through the glass of the claw machine. "I know. But I stayed to give you some advice, princess."

"Oh, really? And what advice is that?" I asked, before putting some coins in the machine to have another go.

"People usually tend to win these things for people they like, right?" he asked, nodding to the plush toys in the machine.

"Or for themselves," I corrected with a curious smile. "Take Wanda for example. How badly did she want that cat?"

He crossed his arms, smiling with amusement. "You could win it for her, y'know."

"What?" I asked, half paying attention as I attempted to grab a teddy bear.

"Win the cat for my sister and give it to her?"

I ended up dropping the teddy from the claw as I looked to Pietro with shock. He laughed at my expression, leaning against the machine.

"You do like her, right? Otherwise this is awkward," he added as an afterthought, looking down and smiling to himself.

My jaw hung open. "I– er– I never really– I don't–"

"She must definitely like you," Pietro noted, glancing at me.

I licked my lips as I found my words. "Did she," I cleared my throat, "did she say something?"

"Well, no," he said, "but she looks like she wants to murder me every time I hang out with you."

"That's just a coincidence," I said, shaking my head and looking back to the machine. "She's not–" I thought about, before shaking my head again. "No."

I appreciated Pietro's help, but Wanda definitely didn't like me like that. She was just protective of her brother and friendly to me. It didn't mean anything.

"Look, you don't have to listen to me," he said, straightening up and looking at the machine as I slotted another coin in. "But you could give it a shot. See what happens."

I glanced at him, his blue eyes watching me knowingly, a matching smirk on his lips.

"Fine," I gave in, hoping it wouldn't backfire. "Let's see what happens..."

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #marvel imagine #marvel #mcu #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff au

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himbohood · 3 years ago

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facedown - @himbohood

a repost from my previous blog! i’ll be putting my old writings in my queue just so i can get them back on my blog. wanna be added to my tag list? click here!

paring: calum hood / female reader

about: this is based off of an experience i had with an ex-boyfriend and i started thinking about how this would be if i put calum in that memory instead. thus this was created. uni!sos

warnings: smut.

word count: 1688

The days she wasn’t bombarded with work or classes, she usually took up residency on her boyfriend's couch. Calum Hood split rent with three other guys and at this point in their relationship, she had meshed in well with the group. The atmosphere of the small three-bedroom house was more relaxing than any home Y/N had previously been in. With guitars hanging haphazardly on the wall and concert posters pinned up wherever the boys could fit them— this tiny house had become hers as well.

She sunk comfortably in the soft cushions of the couch, her legs lying lazily across Calum’s lap. Michael, one of the aforementioned roommates, took control of the TV. He switched back and forth between YouTube channels before landing on a let's player of some sort. Y/N briefly overheard something about Overwatch but then quickly tuned out after that. She didn’t entirely know if it was just how Calum looked with the LCD screen shining back on his strong features— but the urge to crawl into his lap got harder to resist.

Scooting closer each time he laughed along with his friend, Y/N let her hand brush against his chest. She figured Calum knew what she was hinting at because his hand moved dangerously close to the bottom of her fleece shorts. Y/N cursed herself for not just getting up and texting him to follow her back to his room. Though, she figured this was much more fun. Michael was seemingly oblivious of their silent sexual tension. If she wasn’t in such a haze of arousal, she might have joined in. Her mind just kept drifting away from the reality of the moment. The absolute need to be fucked by her boyfriend was the only thing that was important. Flashes of dirty memories ran through her brain and just the thought was enough for Y/N to fill a flutter in her stomach. She would have done anything at this moment for Calum to bend her over the back of this couch and fuck her senselessly. Maybe if she asked nicely, he’d pull her hair or spank her.

The thoughts her heavily amplified by his beautiful voice booming about whatever the fuck he and Michael were talking about. She didn’t understand how he could be so subtle at rubbing the soft skin of her thigh. How could Calum not break concentration on his conversation as he gave Y/N the smallest amount of stimulation for her problem? She knew he didn’t want to seem rude, but she could tell by the bulge against her legs that he was just as interested.

“ I think that I’m gonna go and pick up some food— you guys want to come with?” Michael said, finally getting up and heading towards the exit.

“Nah, we‘ll pick up something later. Thanks, though.” Y/N finally spoke after Calum did, “Yeah, I’m not really that hungry right now.”

Whenever that door shut, the two of them had the entire house to themselves. She didn’t have any time to blink before Calum snatched her up and pulled her in his lap. Y/N gasped at the sudden sensation and didn’t wait to roughly grind her hips down onto him. He made the prettiest noises and that only made her problem worse. She was sure that at this point he could just kiss her and she would cum.

Her voice became a sort of wine as she spoke, “ Cal, please touch me.” It was most definitely a beg because she didn’t have time to take things slow. Michael would be back soon and she really wanted the opportunity to ruin her vocal cords screaming Calums name.

There was a chuckle and then his lips made contact with her skin. They landed on her collarbone, teeth grazing the soft skin and vibrating it as he spoke. “ What’s gotten into you? Thought you were gonna fuck me in front of Mikey or somthin’” As he spoke he made quick work at pushing her shirt just over her breasts. Y/N let out a soft laugh, at his comment— moaning loudly when he bit the skin right above her breasts. “If we don’t hurry up I might have to fuck you while Mikey watches.”

Calum let out a low groan and quickly wrapped his arms around her midsection. Lifting Y/N he supported her by placing his hands firmly on her ass. He made quick work at getting them back to his room. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Y/N crawled on the bed. Caum watched in awe as she lay on her back and shimmied off her shorts and underwear. With her legs wide open, she was at full display for him. “You expect me not to eat you out when you look that good?” He teased, walking towards her as he pulled off his clothes. “We’ve got plenty of time for that later,” Y/N promised, discarding her shirt and bra. “If you fuck me well enough, I might sit on your face.” Her face was bright pink after speaking, half distracted by Calum hovering over her.

“I think I can do that.”

His hands explored everywhere they could. He saved the best for last. He didn’t tease her, figuring that she had already edged herself just from sitting on the couch earlier. His thumb came in contact with her clit and Y/N let out an almost painfully loud moan. She was slick before he even touched her. That didn’t entirely surprise Calum but god was it pride boosting. “You don’t even need me to get you ready, do you?” His words were a soft mumble, catching her lips in a very much needed kiss. He pulled away just for a moment, getting ready to angle himself in— but before he could she spoke. “Cal, fuck me from behind. I want you deep.”

Y/N didn’t have to ask twice because before she knew it Cal was directing her to turn around. She rested her head on his pillows, eagerly shaking her ass up at him. “Please fuck me, Cal.”

He lined himself up with her entrance, hand moving to brush down her spine as a sort of warning before he pushed in. She let out a loud, gasping-for-air type of breath when he bottomed out inside of her. “Fuck— Cal, baby you’re so big.” She moaned out, pressing back onto him as if to say more. She put her hands behind her back, asking Cal to hold them without even speaking. She didn’t know if it was her previous begging, but Y/N brought that same energy as he pulled her back against his chest. With one hand gripped tightly on her hip and the other grasped around her breast, Calum made quick work in starting his agonizingly slow pace.

At the mere thought of friction, Y/N’s knees were weak— but now that she was finally getting what she wanted the idea of being quiet was a joke. The slow thrusts of his hips didn’t last long. Y/N figured he was just getting his balance because soon enough both of his calloused hands landed on her hips. He gave her a kiss that almost read farewell before pushing her face down into the pillows.

“ Mmph— fuck you look so good like this baby,” his voice filled the room with soft, pleasure-filled mumbles. Y/N could only respond in incoherent gasps and mewls, eagerly bouncing back on his cock in desperation. One hand left her hip and the loss of it almost stung, but it went away when that hand traced up her spine and tangled in her hair. The loud noise of his hips snapping against Y/N ass practically filled the tiny house.

Her knees were weak and her forehead was covered in sweat. She tried so hard to tell him that she was close, but whenever her words failed her, she was happy that he just knew. Calum fucked her mercilessly into the bed, his hand now finding her clit and rubbing firm calculated circles against it.

His name was the only thing that she could think as she fell apart. Screaming his name in praise, in thanks, in rejoice as she came around him. She fell from an unbelievable high and only felt it coming back as he focused on his orgasm.

She could only imagine how his face looked as he fucked her. His soft grunts were perhaps the most beautiful sound in the world, but what was even prettier was what he said next,

“ Baby— fuck, I’m about to cum.”

She hated that he had to pull out, but the empty feeling was almost made better by the warm ropes decorating her back.

She relaxed on her stomach as Calum lazily brushed a finger through the mess on her back and pressed a firm kiss to her shoulder.

“Let me get a towel, yeah?” and with that, he wandered into his ensuite and wasted no time in cleaning Y/N up. Falling to warm up space beside her, Calum eagerly pulled her on his chest.

They sat for a moment, relaxing in the post-sex high. His hand brushed through her hair, lips leaving kisses across her forehead. She sighed, nuzzling her face against his chest before doing the same to him. Her fingers ran through his hair and her lips littered his skin. It was quiet for a bit— the world didn’t exist… until, well until Micheal made it known that he had been back for around 15 minutes.

“ Are you guys done fucking yet? I bought you food, so if you’re not done I’m eating it!” His highly annoyed voice boomed through the house which elicited a laugh from both Calum and Y/N.

“Fuck,” she laughed, “Guess we lost track of time?”

“I’m gonna be real honest with you, I forgot he was even coming back.” and with that, the only important thing the two laughed together and rolled out of their haze to get dressed and eat the food Micheal had so graciously got them.

#calum hood fic #calum hood smut #calum smut #calum hood x reader #calum hood one shot

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sunshineseung · 3 years ago

Text

Journal Part 6 // Jeongin

🍄 | genre: smut ☁️ | pairing: Yang Jeongin x female!reader 🌿 | wc: 6.8k 🌸 | includes: milf!reader x babysitter!college student!jeongin, “mommy/ma’am”, pretty vanilla sex actually, oral (receiving & giving), doggy style, creampie/unprotected sex, [spoilers from here on] ... okay, changbin x reader, oral (receiving), nonconsensual exhisibionism /voyeurism (jeongin spies on y/n without her knowing), start of a threesome, slight cucking? jeongin watches again but this time it’s known

🌊 | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Finale |

“You guys have been in relationships before, right?” Jeongin was way too nervous about this considering he was just talking to his friends over Discord. “Can I ask something?”

“Sure, knock yourself out.” Hyunjin sounded so cool over his mic despite being way too interested in the youngest’s love life. Jeongin has been obviously lovesick for the past several weeks, and despite vaguely mentioning this mystery girl he was with, he’d never actually dropped too much information about her… or in this case, you. “We’re all ears.”

“How do I get a girl to like me back?” Jeongin’s slight pout could practically be heard through the call. The other boys go quiet trying to think of a proper response.

“Have you tried talking to her?” Jisung speaks first, asking an all-too essential question. Jeongin briefly explains the situation as vaguely as possible, leaving out the whole ‘mother-of-two’ thing. The other four older boys listen intently, mentally planning how they’re going to get their youngest friend laid.

“Just tell her how you really feel, bro!” Felix’s smile could be heard through the call, his usual happy energy lifting the mood of everyone listening. “You have nothing to lose!”

“Well, you have a lot to lose, but it’ll be worth a shot,” Seungmin says, sighing out of boredom. “If she already sort of likes you, then you just have to make her stay.”

“Make her stay?” Jeongin pauses to think, “what do you mean?”

“If you really want this girl, then you have to give her a reason to want to be with you for more than just sex or whatever. She has to enjoy your company. Don’t be afraid to show your flaws, either. Just be endearing, although you’re already good at that.”

“Thanks Seungmin! I’ll try that!”

“Or do what Hyunjin did and knock her up,” Jisung laughs, his chair squeaking loud enough to be picked up by the microphone. Everyone else joins Jisung in laughter except Hyunjin, who’s about to drive over to Jisung’s house and beat the shit out of him for bringing that up.

“I’m gonna kick your ass, Jisung!”

“You and what army?”

“I’ll help you kick his ass,” Seungmin says as he laughs with an exhale through his nose. Following Seungmin, Jeongin also agrees to beat up Jisung with his friends.

“Fuck you guys,” Jisung laughs, the rather serious conversation turning into the boys having a laughing fit. “But for real, Jeongin, I think Seungmin’s right. Just get her to stay.”

“Alright, I’ll try my best.” Jeongin’s smile on his face is light, but he’s truly thankful for his friends at this moment. Despite all the teasing, he really loves his hyungs. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Girls love when you buy them things. Get her flowers or something,” Hyunjin says, sounding confident as ever. “My girlfriend always loves it when I buy her gifts.”

“Flowers? Girls actually like flowers? I thought that was a joke…” Jeongin feels like he’s been fooled his entire life. He has so much to learn!

“Hyunjin usually gets his girl plan B-“ and with that, Hyunjin muted Jisung in the Discord voice chat. Before Jisung notices he’s been muted, Jeongin thanks the boys and leaves, ready to go out and get some flowers in the morning.

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

Jeongin stands at your doorstep, checking his shirt for stains one last time before knocking on your door. He hears you mumble something on the other side as he’s about to sweat through his shirt. When you swing open the door, Jeongin looks cute as a button in a pink button-up short sleeve shirt and jeans. In his hands is a small bouquet of yellow tulips. His smile makes your heart warm as you invite him inside.

“These are for you, Y/n! I thought I’d get you something nice on your day off.” He sounded too chipper to be okay. You’ve never seen Jeongin beaming like this, especially before you’ve done anything to him. He hands you the tulips and watches you put them in a vase as he takes a seat on a stool at your kitchen island. “Do you like them?”

“I love them, baby. Thank you so much.” You brush his hair back and kiss his forehead, bringing him into a big hug. As you let go, you run your hand down his arm and sit in the stool next to his. “The girls are in school right now. Why’d you come over?”

“I just wanted to hang out,” he says with a smile.

“I’m 30 years old, Jeongin. I don’t ‘hang out’.” You laugh at him a bit, seeing a pout form on his lips. “But I’ll hang out with you if you really want.”

“Great! I mean…” Jeongin struggles to start a conversation. “What have you been doing today?”

“I got the girls ready and drove them to preschool, then I cleaned a bit. Really I’ve just been watching TV.” Jeongin nods as you speak, paying attention to every word. “What about you? I assume you woke up at noon.”

“Not true!” He whines, “11 o’clock, actually.”

“Ah, how brave.” You chuckle at your own joke. “You look so cute in that shirt, you know?”

“Oh- thank you, m-... Y/n.” He almost let his kink slip by calling you mommy, but he quickly fixes his mistake. His face gets bright red from your complements, his heart fluttering in the process. “You look nice as well!”

Unlike Jeongin, you didn’t get dressed up for this surprise visit. Your hair was a mess, and you wore no bra, only a loose tee shirt you got from a concert when you were a teenager. The shorts you wore were stained with bleach. You looked like a damn mess in every sense of the word. The fact that Jeongin could find beauty in any of that was mind boggling.

“You want a drink, honey? I got water and little boxes of apple juice.” As tempting as the apple juice was, Jeongin settles for water. As you get the drinks, Jeongin takes out his phone to text his friends.

🍓🍀🍯.

The Boys 🥶

Jeongin: I’m blowing it.

Hyunjin: wtf did you mean? You got her flowers! Did you compliment her?

Jeongin: yeah I told her she looked nice but now she looks bored!!! :((((

Jisung: slap her ass

Seungmin: Please don’t do that.

Hyunjin: are you sitting on a couch?

Jeongin: what? no? are we supposed to be?

Hyunjin: so you can put your arm around her!

Jeongin: ohhhh okay

Felix: just be nice to her! no girl can resist your charms!

Jisung: make her food!

Seungmin: Listen to what she has to say. Make sure it’s not all about you.

Jeongin: shut up she’s coming back

Hyunjin: don’t blow this young my padawan

Jisung: young what?

Hyunjin: nevermind ㅜㅜ

🍓🍀🍯.

“Let’s go sit on the couch!” Jeongin hops out of his stool as you hand him his water, already walking towards your living room. Shrugging, you follow him and lounge back where this whole relationship started.

“So, how are your classes going?” You turn slightly to face him, watching him calculate his next move.

“They’re alright, but you’ve heard enough about me. I want to know more about you.” His voice lowers on the second sentence as he leans forward and puts his arm around your shoulders. Your reaction could almost be classified as a cringe, getting flashbacks to every time Minho would do that to you when you first started dating. “Sorry, was that too slimy?”

“Yes, very slimy.” You laugh at how Jeongin described his move, him leaning away from you back to his corner of the sofa. “What do you want to know about me, love?”

“Well,” if he’s being totally honest, Jeongin didn’t expect to get this far, “what’s your… favorite color?”

You roll your eyes, “really?”

“Yes, really.”

“My favorite color is blue, Jeongin.” He nods as if it was an incredibly interesting and complex story, which makes him look like such a clown, but you don’t have the balls to say that to his face. “Are you sure you came over here just to hang out?”

“What do you mean?” Of course he knows what you mean. Your entire relationship was based off of sex. How could he not know?

“Don’t act naive, baby boy. You know exactly what I mean.” You straddle his lap in an instant, kissing him on the lips like you’ve wanted to since he walked in the door.

He pushes you away by your chest, his breaths already heavy from the most minimal action. “I really want to fuck you, I do, but I… I don’t want it like this.”

You pause before quickly hopping off his lap just as quick as you hopped on. “What do you want then, Jeongin?”

“Can we have sex without all the… stuff?” Jeongin looks like he could cry at any moment, not out of sadness, but just from the anxiety rattling through him. “No power dynamics or kinks. Just… sex.”

“Just sex?” You smile at how cute he sounded when he said that. “Anything you want, sweetheart.”

“Thank you… you can get back on my lap now.” You both giggle as you climb back on his lap, the constant movements making you feel older than you really are from your muscles getting sore too soon. His lips soon meet yours again, and his hands are on your waist, hesitantly moving up and down your sides.

You grind down onto him, feeling his cock harden underneath of you. As you press your hips down harder, his hands squeeze your skin and he whimpers on your mouth. You smile against his lips, excited for what’s to come.

His lips kiss down from your mouth to your neck, licking and nipping at the skin. You hiss as he bites down on a particularly sensitive area, a bruise surely being left in his wake. Your hands go into his hair as his hands grip your hips, pulling you down onto his bulge.

“Let me undress you, babe.” You tap his back with one hand and let him lean up from your neck, laying back into the couch for you to unbutton his shirt and reveal his toned chest. His physique never failed to amaze you. “Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

“I could say the same about you.” His eyes are glued to your tits, him licking his lips as you push his shirt off of his shoulders and eventually off of his body. Just as he’s about to take your shirt off, his phone rings from his back pocket. “I should answer that.”

“Go ahead.” You grind slightly onto him as he looks at the phone screen. You assume it’s one of his friends from school considering the emojis following the contact name.

“Hey Hyunjin! Can I call y- yeah, it’s going great, can I call- oh my god, we can talk later, bye!” He hangs up and tosses his phone to the coffee table. “Sorry, he wanted to know how my date was going.”

“Oh, so this was a date the whole time? Well you should have said so!” You kiss his cheek and lower to your knees, your hands resting on his upper thighs. “I would have started sucking you off a long time ago.”

Jeongin bites his lip as you unzip his pants and pull them down his legs, his cock hard under his tight briefs. Your hand runs across his erection, teasing him just enough to make him whine. He scoots up to the edge of the couch and lifts his hips so you can pull his underwear off, finally revealing his perfect cock.

“Relax, babe. You look so tense.” You look up at Jeongin, making eye contact as he perks up at your words. He leans back into the couch again, putting his hands at his sides as raising his hips to your face, urging you to take care of him. You harshly spit into your hand and wrap it around his shaft, stroking him just around the tip. In an instant, Jeongin throws his head back and lets you take him.

As much as you want to praise him for being such a good boy right now, you take your time and silence yourself with his cock in your mouth. Your tongue runs over his slit before your lips wrap around him, your head bobbing in sync with your hand’s strokes. Jeongin is absolutely blissed out above you, feeling like all of his troubles are melting away.

“I- I don’t want to cum just yet.” Jeongin digs his nails into the fabric of the cushion beneath him. “I want to eat you out.”

You pull your mouth off of his cock with a ‘pop’ before standing up, Jeongin’s eyes opening just in time to see you toss your shirt off, soon followed by the dropping of your pants and underwear. You stood in front of him, naked, your figure being figuratively eaten up by his eyes.

“Can we go into your room?” Jeongin stands up with you and takes your hand in his, waiting for you to give the okay. Of course, you nod and allow him to lead you to your own bedroom in a bizarre twist. “Lay back on the bed, babe.”

Hearing Jeongin call you babe is just the cherry on top of this odd situation.

Nevertheless, you follow his orders for once and lay on your bed, spreading your legs as he pins you beneath him, his cock dangling hard against your core. His hands grope your tits and pinch your nipples as he makes out with you, getting his saliva all around your mouth.

This feels like a different Jeongin, or at least, certainly not one you’ve met before. He’s more mature, taking action, directing you! As much as you love being his mommy, you also adore this side of him more than you were expecting.

In a hurry, he moves his body down the bed and wraps his arms around your thighs, kissing your clit before sucking on the bundle of nerves. Your back arches fast, toes curling as one hand leaves your thigh and goes to your dripping cunt. He inserts two fingers inside you, pumping them and curling them at a slow pace. His tongue makes circles around your clit. You arch your back as he quickened his pace on both his fingers and his tongue. Looking down at Jeongin, his eyes are dark, looking off into the void as he focuses on only the actions of his mouth and hands.

“Feel so good, baby~” You whine, one of your hands going down to his hair while your other plays with your hardened nipples. Jeongin hums in response, the vibrations from his voice giving the slightest extra stimulation to your cunt. “Keep going, please.”

The ‘please’ leaves your lips so naturally, and yet Jeongin is still caught off guard from hearing you so whiny, begging for him. Now he’s determined to make you cum, not that he wasn’t already.

Your toes curl and a moan slips from your lips as he sucks harshy on your clit, his tongue flicking against your bud in his mouth. His fingers still, curving up into your g-spot. Your own mind is begging you to cum if not for yourself then for Jeongin. You feel so close, yet your body refuses to release.

You look down one more time, making direct eye contact with the boy. He’s been watching your face since you arched your back, patiently waiting and watching to see if you cum. He looks so painfully sexy with his head between your legs, your thighs pressed against the side of his head and his fingers are fucking your pussy and his teeth brush against your clit. That visual is all you needed.

After what felt like eternity for Jeongin, your pussy tightened and your head was thrown back. Senseless and thoughtless moans of your lover’s name escaped your throat as you covered Jeongin’s fingers in your creamy release. He slowed down his movements enough to help you still ride out your high without being overstimulated too quickly. As you get your mind back, he pulls his face away, coming back up your body to hover over you with his arms at your sides.

“Let me fuck you from behind.” Jeongin’s tone is hot. That’s the only way you can describe it. It’s a total 180 from the little boy who begged for you to let him cum not too long ago. “Get on your hands and knees for me, Y/n.”

You eagerly nod at his command, giving him time to get off of you while you turn around and stick your ass up. Jeongin takes a minute to marvel at your ass before joining you back on the bed, his cock hard sitting on your ass as he watches you lean down into the pillows, holding one close to your face.

“Fuck,” Jeongin says under his breath, simply running his hands over your ass. You shake your ass a bit, urging him to finally fill your cunt with his cock. Getting the hint, he lines his tip with your dripping cunt and pushes himself in slowly, allowing you to adjust to every inch as if you haven’t literally pushed out two kids.

“You feel so good, Jeongin~” Hearing you moan makes him moan as embarrassing as that sounds. You fit around his cock so well, taking him easily while still being tight. His hold on your hips moves up to your waist, his arms wrapping around you and his chest hitting your back. He feels so pathetic again, losing his grip on reality as he fucks your pussy.

“You take me so well,” don’t fucking say it, “mommy.” Damn it.

You bite your lip when you hear him say that special word, tightening around him as his thrusts get faster. He starts getting whiny, impatient, back to the Jeongin you’ve known.

“Babe, cum inside me.” You start talking to get him back out of his head, trying to catch him before he slips into subspace. He kisses your back before leaning up again, his hands back on your hips, pulling you against his cock. “Please cum inside me.”

“A-alright, Y/n. Anything for you!” He huffs and puffs, groaning and moaning, trying to desperately reach his high for his own sake. You clench your muscles around his cock, sucking him in and forcing his thrusts to become deep and slow. He starts to twitch, groaning your name until he finally butters, his cock shooting its load inside you. “Oh my god… fuck. So good.”

He stops, slowly slipping his cock out of you as his cum drips down your pussy lips to the bed. Jeongin stares at the mess he made, disappointed in himself that he couldn’t make you cum on his cock again. He sighs and falls next to you on the bed, and you lower your ass and turn your body over to cuddle on his chest.

“You did so well, baby. You really know how to please a lady, you know?” Your fingers trace vague shapes around his chest, your eyes gazing up into his. He looks exhausted from all the hard work he just did, but at least it paid off. “We should shower now.”

Jeongin groans as if he’s annoyed, pushing his hair back off of his sweaty forehead. “I need to sleep right now.”

“That’s fine, honey. I’m gonna shower then pick up the girls. You rest.” You get up and kiss his forehead before walking into your bathroom.

When he hears your shower start, Jeongin sneaks out into the living room to grab his phone from his pocket so he could text his friends with a little update.

🍓🍀🍯.

The Boys 🥶

Hyunjin: jeongin’s getting his dick sucked

Jisung: ooooo

Felix: i’m jealous

Hyunjin: Jeonginnie update us when you get back!!! 💋

Hyunjin: damn he’s getting his shit ROCKED

Seungmin: Shut up omg

Felix: god I wish that we me

Jisung: ew

Jeongin: you guys are gross

Hyunjin: THE KING IS BACK

Jisung: you didn’t knock her up, did you?

Jisung: I hope you didn’t pull a Hyunjin

Jisung: please don’t remove me from the chat

Hyunjin: you’re on thin fucking ice young man

Jisung: we’re literally the same age

Hyunjin: okay young man

Hyunjin: anyway…

Hyunjin: how was it Jeongin? You’re finally not a virgin anymore!

Jeongin: I’ve fucked this girl before I just don’t think she wants to date me. I thought I said that before.

Jisung: oh shit

Hyunjin: YOU LEFT OUT THAT VERY CRUCIAL DETAIL MR YANG JEONGIN!

Jeongin: Oh my bad

Hyunjin: MY BOY IS ALL GROWN UP 😭😭😭

Seungmin: They grow up so fast. 😢

Felix: did you just… leave her?

Jeongin: No way! She’s showering right now. I’m just tired.

Jeongin: I think I fucked it up

Jisung: I mean you fucked her up… but if you two fucked at all I think she’s fine

Jeongin: but I tried to be more serious and mature and I wasn’t! I still make it… weird

Seungmin: Please don’t go into details. I just ate.

Jisung: please go into details. i’m horny.

Felix: ew!!!!

Jeongin: What do I do now? I’m just at her house for the rest of the day I guess.

Hyunjin: don’t you have to babysit for your neighbor tonight?

Hyunjin: secure the bag little man!!!

Jeongin: first of all, little man?

Jeongin: second of all… I should go now lol BYEEEE

Hyunjin: Weird time to exit but okay

Felix: Maybe he’s fucking his neighbor lmao

Hyunjin: No way! Jeongin has game but not enough to pull a milf

Jeongin: lol

🍓🍀🍯.

You get dressed in your bedroom before walking out to the living room to find Jeongin mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Kids these days.

“I thought you were tired?” Jeongin just laughs without responding. You get your keys by the door and start to head out. “You better be dressed by the time I come back with the girls! 15 minutes!”

“Yes ma’am!” Although he says it jokingly, it sounds like something he’d say to you regularly in another setting. You say goodbye before getting in your car and driving off to pick up your two lovely daughters.

When you come back with your kids, Jeongin is most importantly cleaned up and fully clothed, but also ready to watch them as you go to work. Unfortunately for him, you had to be kept overtime, so he was going to be at your house longer than expected. The day with the girls flies by, but after he puts them to sleep, Jeongin becomes bored out of his mind.

In true Jeongin fashion, he pulls out his journal and a pencil, ready to write whatever comes to mind. For the first time in forever, though, he can’t come up with anything. He knows what he wants to do with you, but he can’t bring himself to write it. It feels too... real.

He reads back on what he’s written in the past, sighing as he realizes that his fantasies have either been fulfilled or painfully unrealistic. Jeongin really thought there was more to his journal, but the repetition of his imagination becomes evident after the third time he reads about how he wants to be spanked.

Putting his Journal back in his bag, he leans back on the couch. He didn’t even get hard from reading his journal entries! Either his dick is broken or he no longer needs his journal, which sounds ridiculous, even to him, but after thinking for a moment alone, he starts to believe with you in his life, Jeongin doesn’t need to write what he fantasizes about; he just needs you.

After watching your kids for you as you work overtime, Jeongin is way too tired to not sleep in his own bed. You kiss him goodbye after you check on your kids, sending him off with a warm feeling in his heart.

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

You started working in this office early last year, and since you started working here, there was one man that would always come over to your desk to chat with you. Obviously, it was always friendly, mature banter with no hidden meaning or ulterior motive. You two were simply coworkers and nothing more.

That was until he asked you on a date. He was never flirty until he asked you out, so it kind of came out of left field. Still, he’s hot, you can’t deny that. You’d be a fool to say no to his offer. You planned it for a Saturday night when both of you were free, and Jeongin was happy to watch your kids for a “business meeting”.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was a date. Being a teenage boy, you were certain he would lash out and get mad at you for being an adult. And you didn’t want to break his heart. Although you’re going to be holding it off, you have to tell him eventually that you were seeing other people, and you know that. At least for now, for your sake and his sake, this is a secret you keep to yourself.

After saying goodbye to your daughters and Jeongin, you head out to your date’s car parked right out front. He’s standing at the passenger side door holding it open to you. He takes your hand to help you step into his SUV.

“You look absolutely lovely, Y/n.” His suit hugged his chest and arms perfectly, and you almost felt underdressed even in your evening cocktail dress that you felt made you look old.

“Thank you, Changbin. You look amazing yourself.” You laugh to each other, chatting back and forth about work and life as he drives you to the restaurant. The entire ride there, his hand is playfully resting on your thigh. While the tension is low, you can still feel it. You haven’t done anything sexual with Jeongin for a few days, so this will be refreshing for sure.

Changbin leads you into the restaurant, a reserved table waiting for you two as you walk in. The food is expensive, just as you expected, but he’s happy to pay. You forgot what it was like to be taken care of by a man considering the only two people you’ve been with in the past few years have been your shitty ex-husband and a college boy.

“So, is there someone watching your daughters right now? I assume you didn’t just leave them home alone,” Changbin asks before taking a bite of his food.

“Yeah! My neighbor’s son watches them at night. I’m usually at my second job at this time, but I called off today.” He nods with a mouth full of food. “He’s in college right now but he finds the time. I pay him too, of course.”

“You let a college boy watch your kids?” Changbin laughs in his chest. “I wouldn’t trust any teenage boy within 20 yards of my son. You must trust him.”

“He’s a sweet kid. He wouldn’t do anything to harm my girls, I’m sure.” You both go silent as you continue eating. “So, how’s your son?”

“My boy’s doing great! Middle school is a lot harder than elementary school, but he’s tough just like his daddy.” Again, you share a laugh with Changbin, the atmosphere sweet and sentimental as you discuss your children. “He’s home alone right now.”

When the waiter comes back to your table to give you the bill, Changbin sticks to his word and pays for the meal and the wine. He politely asks to go back to your house and stay a little longer, which is leading to exactly what you think it is. The tension rises when you get into his car and he keeps his hand on your thigh again, this time higher, closer to your hips.

“We can have a few more drinks at my place. Just let me tell my babysitter to go home early. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

Jeongin’s phone rings loudly from the living room as he lays in your bed, distracted with his thoughts. He’s been so high strung the past few days, but he hasn’t been able to tell you. He strokes himself slowly, almost teasing himself as he grunts and hops out of your bed to answer his phone who he’s happy to see is you!

“Hey Jeongin! You can go home early! I’ll be home in a few minutes, but you can leave now.” Your voice sounded so bright and pretty, and he was still dazed from his session that you interrupted. When he actually understands what you said, he’s beyond confused.

“Are you sure? You don’t want to come home and… help me?” Your face heats up when you hear his voice turn weak at the end. Half of you wants to get fucked by Changbin, but the other half of you wants to fuck Jeongin. “I’m sorry for breaking rules mommy, but I’m so hard. I need you.” You can hear his pout through the phone. Thank God you didn’t have this call on speaker.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye Jeongin!” You hang up before he can say anything back so you don’t cause any worry from Changbin. Opening your messenger app, you hurriedly text Jeongin.

🍓🍀🍯.

Y/n 💗: I need you to go home now. I’ll be there in a minute. Don’t worry about the girls. They’ll be fine as long as they’re asleep.

Yang Jeongin: but I need you mommy! I haven’t been your little boy in so long :(

Y/n 💗: For God’s sake just go home.

Yang Jeongin: and what if I don’t?

Y/n 💗: This isn’t the time to be a brat.

Yang Jeongin: Fine. see you tomorrow.

Y/n 💗: Thank you. Bye!

🍓🍀🍯.

No way in hell was Jeongin going home that easily. When he sees a car pull into your driveway which he assumes is yours, he runs to your room and hides in the closet hoping you’ll look for him so he can jump out and surprise you. He’s only wearing his tight boxer-briefs, his body shaking in excitement as he hears your front door open and close.

It’s not your voice he hears, though. It’s another man’s.

“You look so fucking sexy, Y/n. C'mere and kiss me, baby.” Obeying your date, you wrap your hands around his neck and meet his lips with yours, a messy, wet kiss making you both feel euphoric. His hands grope your ass and pull you close to him, his cock hardening against you. “I’ve been wanting this for so long.”

“We need to be quiet. My kids are sleeping.” Your hands go over his chest, unbuttoning his white dress shirt as he shakes off his suit jacket. You rest your hands on his pecs and kiss him, your tongue swiping across his bottom lip. He held you so close, so tenderly. This is what you’ve been missing.

Jeongin brings his knees up to his chest, shaking with nerves and emotion rather than excitement. He should have listened to you, but now he has to hear you with another man. This is hell. Although it is tempted, he can’t just sneak out of your bedroom window. He needs an entire secret-agent-level escape plan, or at this point, divine intervention would be nice too.

“Jump up, babe.” Changbin taps your thigh for you to jump into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as your arms are around his neck. “Bedroom?”

“Second door on the left.” You pull him into another kiss as he carefully carries you to your bedroom and lowers you onto the bed gently. Changbin cages you under him with his arms at your sides and your legs spread around his thighs. He grinds against your cunt, your dress riding up to reveal a thin thong being the only thing covering your pussy.

“Can I take your dress off?” He kisses on your neck as you run your hands down his gorgeous arms.

“Only if you take your shirt off.” He sighs with a smile and sits up, revealing his entire torso for you to see after slowly unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. You can’t help but ogle at the sight before you. “God damn, Changbin.”

“Now let me slip this little dress off of you, doll.” He bites his lip as he takes a hold of the straps of your dress and pulls them down, eventually slipping your dress off of your body. His eyes scan your body, taking in every curve of your figure. His bulge in his pants only gets bigger. “Oh my god, you’re a fucking dream.”

You raise your back to get your hands around yourself, unhooking your bra and tossing it to the side. Changbin only watches as you lay back, giving him an open invitation to play with your tits, which he graciously accepts. His lips wrap around your left nipple, while his hand plays with your right breast. With his right hand busy on your chest, his left hand ghosts over your covered cunt before rubbing you from over your underwear.

Your closet door isn’t very practical as a door. There are little slots across the door so air can vent into the closet. In this case, those little slots give Jeongin a perfect view of the buff, older man pinning you down to your bed. As much as his heart aches to see you like this, his cock is unmistakably hard. One of his hands teases his dick from over his underwear while his other hand wipes away a tear he didn’t even notice fell.

Changbin kisses down from your nipple to the hem of your panties, his hands taking a hold of the fabric at your hips and sliding it down so he can finally taste you. He licks his lips before licking up your cunt, one strong lick to get you ready before his tongue makes circles around your clit, and occasionally his lips wrap around the bud to suck gently. Your legs wrap around his head as you watch him take his time, something your previous partners were never good at doing, even if they tried.

“Fuck, Changbin~ so good.” You can’t help but moan out from his mouth taking complete control of your thoughts. Your hips buck up into his face as he devours you. Looking down at him, he looks so driven by lust and need. This is exactly where you were hoping this night was leading to.

Changbin’s tongue laps at your folds as he grips your thighs tighter, going in harder than before. It feels like heaven between your legs, and you can’t help but raise your hips off the bed and buck into his face. He laughs against your heat, sending vibrations through your spine. He loves your reactions so much that he can’t help but laugh at how pathetic you are rutting against his face.

“Mmm, mommy…” Jeongin whines, holding his hand over his mouth to muffle his irrepressible moans. Unfortunately for him, he’s louder than he thinks. “Ah, Y/n.”

Changbin’s ears perk up. His mouth leaves you for a moment. He’s perched between your legs like a dog that just heard a car door from outside. “What was that?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Jeongin’s hand stops jerking himself as his heart falls through his chest. He goes bug eyed as the realization hits him that he might have been too loud.

“What was what?” You breath fast as you come back to your senses, being totally out of it just a second ago for apparent reasons. “Was it my daughters?!”

“I swear I heard something…” Changbin stares at the closet, unknowingly making eye contact with Jeongin as he looks through a slot in the door. Jeongin rustles around to feel for a blanket or something to hide him, but that only makes more noise. “Wait here.”

You sigh, frustrated from the sudden mood ruining sound that your one night stand claims to have heard. Changbin goes up to the closet and puts his ear against the door before sliding it open to reveal a half naked college boy covering himself with an old winter coat.

“Who the fuck-”

“Hi, I was just leaving…”

“Jeongin?! Yang Jeongin?! Is that you?!” You were prepared to cover yourself with the blanket, but since it’s him there’s no need for that now. You get off the bed, knees only a little wobbly, and walk over to him, pushing Changbin out of the way in the process. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing spying on me like this?”

Changbin steps back and looks over the scene. He doesn’t understand why you didn’t cover up in front of this boy, but he’s too startled to ask any questions, not to mention the visible rage on your face scaring him.

“I was going to surprise you, Y/n.” Jeongin’s voice is more of a croak, his voice hoarse and squeaky from embarrassment.

“I told you to go the fuck home. Why didn’t you listen to me?” Your speech gets louder and louder, practically being a shout at this point. You’re too angry to care if the girls hear. You soundproofed that room to high heaven; if your daughters heard, you’d be more than shocked.

“I… needed you?” Before you can even yell again, Changbin steps in and pushes you back from the boy. You got so in your head that you accidentally managed to get in his face as if you were going to throw hands. “I’m sorry, I should go now.”

“Changbin,” you look back at the older man, “would you mind if we added a third?”

Both of the men look at you, their faces reading nothing but confusion. You sigh at their dazed expressions and pull the jacket away from Jeongin, leaving him exposed aside from his underwear. Noticing he’s still hard, you can’t help but laugh.

“Look at the poor boy, Bin! He wants to play, doesn’t he?” Despite clearly talking down to Jeongin, he nods like the needy little puppy he is. Changbin looks at you, looks at Jeongin, looks at you, looks at your tits, looks at Jeongin’s bulge, and finally looks back at you… This will be the end of him if he says yes.

But he can’t possibly turn down this golden opportunity.

“He does look like he needs some assistance, doesn’t he?” Changbin’s devilish smirk returns to his face, a look you’ve only seen during the car ride to your house. Changbin sizes up the younger boy, unsure of what he wants to do first with this fresh piece of meat. “Have you ever been in a threesome before… what’s his name?”

“Jeongin.”

“Jeongin?”

“Well, no, but I’m trying to be…” Jeongin trails off, remembering his effort to be more vanilla and domestic to impress you. Then for a moment he thinks to himself, if being vanilla made her hook up with another guy, maybe she wants… her prince back. As absurd as this sounded to Jeongin, his knees were weak and his dick was hard. Turning down a threesome with two doms would be a clear mistake, and if he does this, then he can brag to his friends that he had a threesome, sparing the gruesome details of the power dynamics of course. “Excuse me sir, what’s your name?”

“You can keep calling me sir, that’s fine.” Changbin didn’t care what Jeongin called him, he only wanted to please you with the help of a little servant. “Y/n, go lay on the bed. I wasn’t done between your legs.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jeongin’s never seen you be submissive, so he’s surely in for a treat.

“Baby boy, why don’t you sit on that chair and watch how a mature man eats out a woman.” You wink to Jeongin as you get situated on the bed. Ever obedient, Jeongin goes to the cushioned chair in the corner of your room and slides his underwear down his legs, ready to finally be able to see your body tonight in all its glory, although another man between your legs sent shivers down his spine, he can’t deny that he likes seeing you in such a blissed out state like you make him.

“So you’re calling me sir now too, huh?” Changbin lays between your legs, ready to continue where he left off. One of his fingers rakes through your cunt, collecting the wetness he left before plunging into your sensitive hole. “Be a good girl and keep those legs spread for me, okay?”

“Don’t get overzealous, Changbin.” You laugh and throw your head back into the pillows, finally relaxing into the touch of your new lover. “We still have a little boy who wants to be fucked, doesn’t he?” Jeongin nods from the corner of the room, palming his freed cock, only allowing the slightest bit of friction to please him.

This was going to be a long night.

taglist: @binnie-m00n @sparklysung @starsareseen @sailorhyunjinz @gothicstay @vogueinnie @mariannaab @spilledtee

#kpopcatalog #stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #yang jeongin smut #jeongin smut #i.n smut

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pen-paper-and-ink · 3 years ago

Text

Champagne Problems

Chapter Three

Masterlist

Sam eventually went to back to his own apartment around noon, leaving Aelin with plenty of time to focus on her English assignment. Instead of a final test in English, there was a final paper, and Aelin was struggling with what words to put down.

She knew the book inside and out; the words just were not coming to her today. She could usually just sit at her computer and let the words flow out of her, but that was not happening. She eventually just went back and skimmed through her outline, getting herself to refocus. She finally gave up a half an hour later and resorted to texting Rowan.

“Want to come over and study. I’ll order takeout from Emry’s. It will be just like old times.”

The response came only seconds later. “I’d love too, but some of us have class in an hour.”

She could practically here the snort in his reply. “Could you possibly skip this class and study with me instead?”

“I would but it’s the last class before the final, and I need the review.”

“Boo. You suck.” She emphasized with an emoji that was sticking its tongue out at him.

“See you later, Ace :)”She swore he refused to use emoji’s just to spite her.

When she was finally done pouting, she eventually pulled her phone back out to text Lysandra, who easily agreed to come over. Although Lysandra was not diligent as Rowan when it came to studying and making study schedules, she was better than nothing, especially when Aelin was having trouble concentrating.

She showed up to Aelin’s apartment wearing an oversized fuzzy pink sweater and a pair of black leggings, as well as two chocolate bars. She might now be Aelin’s favorite person.

She definitely was not Aelin’s favorite person the first time they met, though. They were both petty and stubborn and got along about as well as cats getting a bath. That eventually changed the march of their freshmen year, when Aelin chased off a shady guy who was trying to follow a very drunk Lys into the bathroom at a frat house. Lysandra had been her constant companion since then, especially when it came to topics including clothes and boys.

“Hello, Babe,” Lysandra chirped happily as she strode into Aelin’s apartment. She shrugged off her bag and dropped the candy onto her plush sofa. Aelin went to wrap her harms around Lysandra who returned the gesture. “I brought chocolate as a study motivator for the both of us, but you already smell of candy.”

Aelin groans. “Shut up. Sam bought me this perfume, it’s his favorite.”

“Mhm,” Lysandra hums giving Aelin a conspiratorial grin, “I think he like’s that you’re his own personal snack.” Lysandra says wiggling her eyebrows.

Aelin only rolled her eyes at her friend, “whatever.”

“You smell good, babe, just really sweet. Even sweeter than that bath and body works body spray that everyone bathed their selves in in middle school, if that’s even possible. But I think he likes that. How many times has he bitten your neck when you have been wearing it?” Lysandra asked with further eyebrow wiggling.

“You’re way too into our love life. How long has it been since you’ve had date?” This time it was Aelin’s turn to wiggle her eyebrows.

“It’s been a while,” Lysandra moans loudly, but she turns her grin back onto Aelin, “but you didn’t answer my question.”

Aelin sighs loudly and slumps back onto her couch. “It’s not like he does it often.”

Lysandra snickers and she lounges next to Aelin. “So, I see it’s getting pretty serious. I even saw the picture he keeps of you in his wallet.”

“In his wallet?” Aelin snorts. “I didn’t think that people still did that. I thought the real milestone of a serious relationship was making a picture of your significant other your home screen on your phone.”

“Yes, you relationship guru. Are you ready to study now?”

. . .

It turns out that Lysandra was the perfect person to get Aelin to finish her English paper. About two hours after Lysandra arrived, Aelin had finished her paper, submitted it, and was able to eat her chocolate bar as a reward. They then watched a shitty romcom on Netflix until Lysandra had to leave for her evening class.

That now left Aelin plenty of time to get ready to go to the Cadre’s for the night. It also gave Aelin some time to harass Rowan about his class.

“How was class?” Aelin texted.

“Good. Did you finally finish your paper, you demon? Bribing me with Emry’s and everything.” Rowan replied.

“I finished it and submitted it and everything. I even ate a celebratory chocolate bar without you.” She brags.

“I just wanted you to know that I am rolling my eyes at you.” Was his only response.

“Would it kill you to just use the emoji?” Aelin demanded.

“Yes.” Well at least she had her answer.

“See you at the Cadre’s in a few hours or so?” She inquired.

“Yes,” was once again his only response. Boys, Aelin thought rolling her eyes. What was with boys and their one-word answers. With that, Aelin pulled up Spotify on her TV to blast some music as she prepared for her night.

She was having fun running around her apartment sing- screaming the lyrics to Teenage Dirtbag as she prepared dinner and tidied up her apartment. Pop-rock and other angsty songs which she listened to as a teenager, always brought back fond memories. Her friends always made fun of her emo music in high school, so she decided to switch to some more mainstream stereotypical party music when hanging out with her college friends. The mainstream stuff like Doja Cat and Cardi B, stuff that was always playing loudly at clubs and house parties.

Aelin also had a soft spot for love songs and romantic ballads. Frank Sinatra always reminded her of her parents spinning around their living room on a weeknight. She always thought that they were disgustingly in love. Always holding hands and kissing in front of her and her friends. Aelin now regrets giving them crap about it, especially since the time they had together ended up being cut short.

She ends up eating her frozen pasta dinner over the kitchen island as she hummed along to an old fall out boy song. She went to check her phone and saw a message from Sam which simply asked if she was going to be at the Cadre’s in an hour, she sent back a simple yes as a response and finished up her dinner. Once she was done, she decided that it was probably time to get dressed for the night.

Aelin loved getting dressed up. She found it calming. Once she picked out an outfit she would methodically paint her face and do her hair. She scanned her overflowing closet, her gaze gliding over black cocktail dresses, sportswear, blazers, sun dresses, and band T’s. She decided on a pair of skinny jeans and an oversized concert t-shirt since she just wanted to wear something simple, and the Cadre’s was a fairly run-down dive bar, though Aelin didn’t mind being overdressed, she loved her clothes and wasn’t afraid to show off and look fabulous doing so.

Once she was dressed, she went into her bathroom to do her makeup. She blended concealer and foundation into her skin, and painstaking lined her eyes with black liquid liner. She had decided on a classic cat eye with red lips, something you could never go wrong with. She reached down for her tube of lipstick then remembered that Sam got kind of soppy and romantic when he was drunk and reached for a liquid lip instead.

She then quickly curled her hair and accessed her appearance. Her skin was flawless, her eyebrows were groomed to perfection, the eyeliner accentuated her blazing blue-gold eyes wonderfully, and her crimson red lips went well with the look. Her golden hair was voluminous in big beach waves, she overall was pleased with her appearance, especially after spending the entire day in lounge wear studying. It felt good to be put together after a day of lounging around her apartment while trying to write. Overall Aelin thought she looked hot as fuck.

She quickly pulled on her heeled black booties, grabbed her bag and she was out the door.

. . .

The bar was so loud, the baseline of the song that was playing was all that could be heard. Lysandra had left the group about an hour in, to go flirt with some guy she had met previously that night and had eventually went home with him, after checking in with Aelin. Aelin dutifully took down the guys information, with Lys promising to check in with her later in the evening. That left Aelin to hang with the guys.

They had all gathered tonight. Sam, Lorcan, Conall, Fenrys, Rowan, and Aelin. They had all had a few rounds and were now all laughing over stupid shit, even Lorcan, who Aelin didn’t know could even laugh before tonight.

They were all giddy over the thought of finishing the school year. Rowan, Lorcan, and Sam were all graduating in a week, and Aelin and the twins were officially 75% done with their education. There was a lot to celebrate and drink to.

Aelin’s thigh was pressed against Rowan’s in the booth as they started arguing over which actor was the best Spiderman. That was the one habit they had kept from the time when they hated each other, the arguing. Rowan and Aelin were known to argue over everything, though now the disagreements were over trivial things and mostly just involved teasing. Rowan was arguing in favor of Tobey Maguire, which Aelin made gagging noises over when he finally confessed as to who her thought the best actor was.

“I’m sorry to inform you,” Aelin started, elbow on the table starring up at her best friends face, “That we cannot be friends anymore. I simply cannot be friends with anyone who thinks that Tobey Maguire makes a better Spiderman than Tom Holland. That’s blasphemous, and I will not stand for it.”

“You can’t mess with the original, Ace.” Rowan responds looking serious. “He just cannot be beat.”

“Yeah, Ace.” Conall responds, apparently feeling the need to weigh in on their argument. Rowan frowns at him, no doubt from the fact that Conall called her Ace, which usually only Rowan called her that, with the exclusion of Sam who had recently gone about calling her that. Rowan has always felt a little possessive over the name Ace.

“No, No, No,” Fenrys butts in, his words slurring slightly, “I agree with Aelin. Tom Holland is simply the best. Also, have you seen his lip sync battle? Tell me Tobey Maguire could pull that off. I dare you.”

“He can’t,” Aelin laughs, “He simply can’t.”

“I also agree that Tom Holland is the best Spiderman.” Sam says with a sly smile.

Rowan frowns at him. “You’re only agreeing with Aelin because she’s your girlfriend.”

Sam laughs, gets up and slides onto the opposite booth and sits next to Aelin, “No, no one can compete with Holland’s acting chops.” He says as he throws his arm around Aelin’s shoulders.

“There’s only one way to decide then,” Conall says with a smirk. “Lorcan must be the deciding vote.”

Aelin and Fenrys both protest loudly, claiming Lorcan had no taste, and that Lorcan would choose Maguire just to spite them.

Rowan shuts the protests up by turning to Lorcan and asking for his vote.

Lorcan looks sheepishly around before he says, “I actually think Andrew Garfield plays the best Spiderman.”

The group eventually quiets back down, as the night begins to come to an end. Lorcan was the first one to head out, claiming he had a final tomorrow. Fenrys left soon after, receiving a text from a semi-frequent hook-up asking him to come over. Conall then convinced Sam to play darts with him, beating Sam every round. Sam still seemed to be enjoying himself though, laughing every time he missed one of the rings, and once the board entirely. Aelin never understood why bar owners thought it was a good idea to put a dart board in the middle of drunk men with questionable aim, but who was she to question it.

Sam and Conall’s questionable game of darts did, however, leave Aelin and Rowan alone for the first time that night. Aelin had been missing spending time with her best friend. It seemed that every time they tried to get together, outside of their morning runs, they were busy or surrounded by other people.

“So, how are you Buzzard?” Aelin asks with a slow smile.

“How are you, fireheart?” Rowan asks, far too seriously for the night they have been having.

Aelin’s heart begins to pound loudly in her chest. He hardly ever called her that, only when he was feeling particularly affectionate.

“All’s good.” She replied, still smiling. Her heart pounded faster still when his fingers brushed against her cheek.

“An eyelash had fallen.” Was all Rowan said, still gazing at her with an intense stare.

“Oh.” Aelin said, “I hadn’t noticed.”

Rowan only gave her a sad smile as he stood up. He ended up tripping while trying to remove himself from his seat, which made her burst out laughing. Rowan, who was usually graceful to a fault, had tripped. He was more drunk than she had initially thought, he must be excited to be graduating.

“Do you need help?” Aelin asked.

“I am fine.” Rowan growled back.

“Are you sure about that?” Aelin asked, trying to hide her laughter. “You seem a little unsteady on your feet.”

“I’m fine, I’m going to head home for the night.” Rowan said, regaining his balance and his usual stoic expression. He grabbed his jacket from where he had been sitting.

“How about you come home with me,” Aelin offered. “You seem a bit unsteady there, Buzzard.”

“I’m fine,” Rowan said again. “I’ll get a cab. Goodnight.” Rowan threw her one last smile, then exited the bar, never bothering to turn back.

. . .

The dreams usually began with a dizzying array of colors, then quickly moved on to flashes of memory. Her heart begins to pound so loudly she can hear it in her head, in her dreams. Once her senses are overwhelmed with the shadow of memories and the deafening sound of her own heartbeat, is when she would stop breathing. The lack of air is what usually wakes her from her slumber.

Aelin Galathynius quickly padded across the floor of her bedroom to her bathroom, closing the door behind her, where she then vomited into the toilet. She always made sure the door to the bathroom was closed and locked, so Sam could not hear her, or accidently open the bathroom door in the middle of the night to find her lying on the floor next to the toilet.

After Aelin was done emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet, she slumped down onto the floor. The cool tile against her back, where her loose sleep camisole did not cover, always seemed to ground her. The hot flashes, the insanity from the dreams and then the vomiting always began to dissipate once she felt the cool tile against her body.

She laid on the floor for a while, breathing in and out and waiting for her pulse to return to normal. The memories she tried to escape during her day, where always ruthlessly unleashed during the night, pursuing her where she could not escape them. Although she couldn’t escape the dreams and memories, they were significantly better within the last few years, only occurring every once in a while, instead of every night.

Aelin thought back to her freshmen year, where she would drink all night long, or get into fights, just to try to stay awake just a little longer so she wouldn’t have to face what was waiting in her subconscious. Aelin was good at that, pushing things away, not examining anything too closely in case it might trigger a panic attack.

Aelin would eventually have to get up, brush her teeth and make her way back to bed where her loving boyfriend was sleeping, but she allowed herself to rest for a moment more on the floor. Though Sam knew what happened when she was eighteen in veiled terms, and through short bursts of vulnerability, she couldn’t get herself to admit to him that she still had panic attacks, and nightmares from her previous years. In fact, the only person who knew she still suffered through them was Rowan.

Rowan was her constant star and steadfast companion when it came to the pain of suddenly losing someone. He was also well aware of the way she tried to deal with it afterward, for that was how they found each other. They were both so wrapped up in their grief and their own self destruction that they couldn’t see the other person in front of them. When Aelin pulled her head out of her ass, as Aedion called it, and finally called a truce with Rowan, and later became friends with him, is when Aelin realized that they had the same grief festering inside them. They also had the same self-destructive streak, so they vowed to find their way out of the madness and grief together.

For a moment Aelin wished Rowan was with her, gently coaxing her get up and brush her teeth, rubbing his hand on her back soothingly, waiting for her pulse to slow back down. Rowan always knew how to reach her, how to soothe her.

Aelin slowly got up, and eventually made her way back to her sleeping boyfriend who was unaware that anything had happened. She tried to fall asleep next to her boyfriend, but she couldn’t, she was too busy wishing Rowan was beside her with his soothing touch luring her back to sleep.

Taglist

@rowaelinismyotp

#champagne problems #celaena sardothien #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin galythinius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #sam cortland #throne of glass #tog #au #lorcan salvaterre #lysandra ennar #fenrys moonbeam #connall moonbeam

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yoontopia · 4 years ago

Text

𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 | 𝗺𝘆𝗴

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: anti-soulmate au; light smut (in the form of making out, thigh grinding), angst if you squint, fluff, strangers to lovers, arranged marriage (kind of)

rating: M (for the light smut, swearing)

word count: 5.4k

summary: either you find your soulmate by the time you’re 25 or a partner is chosen for you, that’s the law. (un)fortunately for you, you were just born without a soulmate scar, an anomaly in a world defined by fate, so it seems your decision is made for you. you meet min yoongi the day after your twenty-fifth birthday and its everything but what you were brought up to believe. there are no sparks, no bells, and definitely no love.

author’s note: unedited because I wrote it pretty much in a sitting. will be editing later!

You are happy for Solhee. She’s twenty four-and a half and manages to find her soulmate by literally running into her outside the twenty-four-seven grocery store on the corner of the block. Solhee barely had six months to go before it would have been too late for her. The system assures you that you will find your soulmate, your other half, before the age of 25. If this doesn’t happen, the government intervenes and matches you with someone they see fit.

It wasn’t always like this. Your parents met when they were in their thirties, and are very much soulmates, if the matching marks on their wrists are any indication. But the government insists that anything after 25 is too late, especially to further the population. Society literally dictates that you’re married off by the time you’re 25.

You don’t want to know what happens if you don’t follow the law. And you’re happy Solhee doesn’t need to find out either. Solhee’s soulmate scar shines in the sunlight as the two of you sit out in the park, sipping on juice boxes and eating home-baked cookies. She tells you of her meeting with her soulmate, and the rush to get married so they can make it in time before the deadline. A plain, white gold band glitters on on her left ring finger.

“It felt like coming home,” she tells you, sighing and staring up at the blue sky. “Finding my soulmate, I mean. You know me, I never believed in this stuff. I figured if I didn’t find them, Big Brother would just hitch me off with someone and that would be okay. But I’m glad I found her in time. I can’t imagine it now if I hadn’t.”

You nod along, taking a sip of your pineapple juice. It’s sour, but you like it. Your eyes wander over to Solhee’s wrist — her mark is a small crescent-shaped moon — it matches the one on her fiancee’s wrist, and it stands out on her pale skin. You squeeze at your juice box to get the last remaining drop out, trying to ignore your empty, unmarked wrists.

Your soulmate mark never appeared. The latest you should’ve been able to see it would have been your 18th birthday. You remember, hiding away from your own party, rubbing your wrists raw, begging it to show up. Looking back, you aren’t sure who it was you were begging to.

Of course, you aren’t alone. There are several cases like yours. Marks that fail to show up, or even individuals who have the mark but don’t manage to find their soulmate on time. There is a solution for that — the matching program ensures you don’t end up alone.

After seeing your friends and coworkers find their soulmates though, you’re not sure you want someone to be arranged for you. It feels artificial and feels like you’re missing out on something incredible. What if the person they match with you doesn’t love you? What if you don’t love them?

It’s been a while since you’ve entertained such childish thoughts. You’re an adult now, almost 25, and this is a reality. In the next two months, on your 25th birthday, you’ll wait for the government to contact you. They’ll send you a name and then check in on the two of you consistently to make sure the match is happening. It’s not like you have a choice and you suppose its better than being completely alone and soulmate-less for the rest of your life. In a way, you’re almost grateful, as someone who doesn’t have the mark. You just wish things could be different.

You watch Solhee marry the love of her life exactly on her twenty fifth birthday. She glows in her dress, and as her best friend and maid of honour, you’re busy making sure the wedding goes by without a hitch. You’re the last of your friends to turn 25, meaning you’re the only one in the group currently single. Taehyung and Jimin, also friends from your college days, laugh and tell you to enjoy the last of your bachelorette days, but their entwined hands are all you can focus on. You know they’re just trying to make light of a rather depressing situation, and you’re grateful

You meet Min Yoongi on a snowy evening, the day after you’ve turned 25. He’s got curling dark hair, ears adorned by various earrings that dangle in the light. A delicate nose, and strong hands. He looks at you like he’s looking at a stranger, which for all intents and purposes, you are. You clutch at the letter in your hands with his name on it. You smile tentatively at him. He doesn’t smile back.

It doesn’t feel like coming home at all.

You move in with Yoongi as soon as the new year starts. He has a roomy apartment in the centre of town and lives by himself so its easier. He helps you move your boxes into his place. He never says much, but he’s never rude, or mean to you. In fact, he’s been polite, respectful — even caring, in a way you are to a coworker or an acquaintance. He shows you around his small flat. It’s two bedrooms, one of which he’s turned into a small studio. You know he works in the music industry, but aren’t sure what his exact job entails.

“I can move my work stuff to my actual studio at the company,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “If you don’t want to sleep in the same bedroom, that is. I don’t want to force you.”

You smile slightly, scratching your cheek.

“No it’s fine,” you say. “I don’t want to encroach. I promise I’ll stick to my side of the bed.” He nods.

“I usually work odd hours,” he says. “I DJ at the club down the street some nights, so I don’t come home until early morning hours. Usually I work from home during the day. There’s a schedule on the fridge.”

“Um, I work a regular 9-5,” you tell him and he nods again. “I’m home on the weekends and evenings.” It feels a little like drawing up a schedule with a roommate. You don’t really mind. It could’ve been so much worse.

Yoongi’s running a hand through his hair. You notice he wears a lot a jewelry, and file away this fact for later. His ears are adorned again with several earrings, pierced in multiple places. Bracelets clink on his wrists of various materials and colours. A single, silver necklace hangs around his neck, two fish swimming in a circle. He’s a Pisces, you realize. He’s been twenty five nine months longer than you have.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he says, waving a hand towards his small, but cozy living room. A small couch and an armchair sit pointed towards the TV. A guitar sits in the corner of his studio, next to an old brown piano. Hints of music adorn the place, photos of Yoongi with his friends at various concerts and gigs. He looks different when he smiles. He has yet to smile at you.

You spend the rest of the day moving in, and its evening before you emerge from your now-shared bedroom with Yoongi. He’s nowhere to be found and the taped schedule to the fridge tells you tonight he DJs.

There’s containers full of food on the counter with your name on them, and you assume he’s left you some of his own meal. You eat alone, and do the dishes. You go to sleep that night, feeling no different from your usual self.

Months pass by quickly once you’re settled in with Yoongi. The two of you fall into an easy routine. You cook breakfast, and he cooks dinners and lunches are usually eaten at work. You split your grocery costs.

Honestly speaking, he’s a really easy roommate to live with. As time goes by, you get to know more things about each other. You learn that he likes meat more than anything else, that he has a tendency to overwork himself when deadlines are near. He has three close friends that he’s grown up with, and an older brother. His family owns a small brown poodle called Holly. His brother is a chef at a Korean restaurant in the city. You’ve met him once and liked him. He’s allergic to seafood, but eats it anyway because he likes it too much.

You also know he has, or had a soulmate. One time you caught him coming out of the shower wearing nothing but jeans. You were curled up on the living room couch watching TV and you could see him shuffling around shirtless in the bedroom, looking for a shirt to pull on. It’s the first time you see him without his usual bracelets and there is a mark on his wrist. You can’t make out what it is from where you’re sitting, but its there, clear as day against his milky white skin. An uncertain feeling curls in your stomach.

Until this point, you’d assumed Yoongi was like you — wrists bare. But this changes things — either he’s never met his soulmate, or they aren’t around anymore, and you don’t know what’s worse. He hasn’t spoken about it, and you almost understand why. It’s not like the two of you are close. Everything you know about him, you’ve gleaned from information you’ve received indirectly. You understand now, why he keeps you at an arms length.

You catch up with Solhee and Jiyeon over brunch. The two are bright eyed, fresh off their honeymoon. Hands entwined under the table, giggling. You laugh along with them, forgetting for a minute about your situation, that is, until Solhee brings it up.

“So how’s Yoongi?” The question is casual, but you know it’s a loaded one. Solhee isn’t just asking how Yoongi is.

“Fine,” you pick at your food. “He’s asleep right now — worked till late.”

“Hey he’s the DJ at Tropical right?” Jiyeon asks, leaning forward. “The popular one.” You’re dazed. Six months of living with him and you don’t even know which club he works at. You nod anyway, not wanting to appear clueless. “I heard he’s really good. Taehyung knows of him through Seokjin.”

“Kim Seokjin?” You ask, surprised. It’s one of Yoongi’s friends. Jiyeon nods. “He owns the club.”

“Hey we should go check him out one night!” Jiyeon is excited, and clueless. You smile half-heartedly at her and Solhee sighs. “Tae can get us into Tropical on the day Yoongi works — when does he work?”

“Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays,” you reply. Jiyeon nods.

“So… who’s down for it tomorrow?”

The club is sweaty, and crowded. You’re here without telling Yoongi, a fact that already makes you feel guilty for some reason. The strapless number Solhee had forced onto you clings to your skin as you follow your friends towards the bar. You haven’t been to a club since university and you can’t help but feel a little out of place.

“There he is!” Jiyeon screams, pointing towards the small stage at the other end of the dance floor. Sure enough, Yoongi stands there, two laptops in front of him. His hair is tucked into a baseball cap, but other than that he’s dressed the way he usually is, in jeans and a silk button up. The music is loud, and your heart thumps in your ears. “Let’s go closer!”

The three of you make your way closer to the stage, maneuvering past the sweaty, drunk bodies. You can barely make out the music he’s playing, and you know barely anything about music to know what’s good and what’s not. He must be good though, if the crowd is anything to go by.

Solhee pulls you and Jiyeon into a corner next to the stage with a good view and the three of you stand there bopping along to the music. Even though you barely know him, you have a strange feeling of pride curling up inside you. He’s incredible.

Your eyes glaze over the crowd until they land on a woman, standing only a few feet away from the three of you, one arm crossed under her chest, the other caressing her chin. She’s also watching the stage, a smile on her face. The world seems to spin for a second because your eye catches the mark on her wrist, and you don’t have to double check to know that it matches the dark haired man on the stage.

The night goes from bad to worse when Yoongi jumps off the stage after finishing his gig, and she runs up to give him a hug. You feel like throwing up, but nothing compares to what you feel when his eyes find you over her shoulder.

Things quickly sour after that. The peaceful relationship the two of you shared previously is shattered. You avoid him on the nights he’s home, preferring to crash at Solhee’s, who’s more than happy to accommodate you. Jiyeon apologizes profusely but you cannot blame her, not when none of this is her fault in the first place.

“Don’t you think you should let him explain?” Solhee asks one day over dinner.

“There’s nothing to explain,” you say automatically. “Their marks are there — it’s self explanatory.”

“What a harsh system,” Jiyeon adds softly. You nod. If there was a way for Yoongi and his soulmate to be together, you’d want it to happen. Then maybe you wouldn’t feel like an awkward third wheel. “Do you think they found each other after the deadline?”

“Definitely,” Solhee nods. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have been matched.”

“I don’t want to come in between anything,” you say softly.

“Oh honey you’re not,” Solhee says. “None of this is your fault.” You bite your lip, holding back tears threatening to fall. You haven’t cried in front of people in years. “It’s not Yoongi’s fault either. You should really go home and talk it out. He probably misses you.”

You choke out a laugh at that. The idea that Yoongi misses you is ludicrous. You were a nuisance to him at best, even though he’d been nothing but respectful of you and your space.

“What the two of you need is to spend time together,” Jiyeon says, and Solhee nods. “Get to know him, tell him he needs to come clean with you with everything. Maybe then things will see peace.”

You decide to go home that night. You know it’s a Tuesday and Yoongi should be home. Stomach in your throat, you shakily unlock the door to his—your— apartment. The TV is on, and Yoongi is curled up in the corner of the couch, swaddled up in a blanket. It’s only been a little over a week, but you find you’ve missed him. You find you’re also surprised he’s actually here. A part of you had almost expected him to take off. He turns to look at you and starts, hurrying to turn the TV off. It’s oddly clumsy from someone who you thought was aloof, and it almost makes you giggle. Almost.

“Hey.” You say lamely.

“Hey,” he replies back. It’s awkward. This is such a bad idea. Who decided confrontation was healthier than hiding from your feelings? You’d like to prove whoever it was wrong. You sigh, slumping a little, mind wandering again to the pretty girl that is his soulmate. You don’t usually hate how you look, but in this moment you can’t help but draw comparisons. Yoongi’s pretty too after all. Giving him a curt nod, you begin to make your way to the bedroom.

“I’m sorry.”

You pause, and turn to look. He’s standing up now, blanket still around his shoulders. A closer look tells you he looks tired. His ears are devoid of earrings for the first time, hair unkempt and greasy. He’s not wearing his usual bracelets — you suspect he only did it to hide his soulmate mark from you. You must be staring at him with a dumbfounded expression because he repeats his hushed apology.

“For what?” Your voice is just as shaky.

“Everything.” He says instantly.

“Do you love her?”

“No.” his reply is instant again, and you find yourself believing him. There’s no lie in his eyes. “I met her a month after we… moved in together,” A month after the government threw the two of you together against your will.

“Do you want to try things with her? I promise I won’t come in between that, I know how wonderful it can be to—”

“No.” He says again, his voice firm. He takes a tentative step towards you.

“Why not?” You’re genuinely curious. He shrugs, almost as if he doesn’t know the answer himself.

“Don’t want to.”

“Why not?” You turn to face him completely now. The two of you glaring at each other. He’s struggling to find the words and stares up at the ceiling in defeat.

“I don’t wanna leave you alone alright?” He snaps. You scoff

“Don’t pity me. I can take care of myself just fine. Did it before you came along too.”

“Don’t act brave when you don’t have to,” his voice is softer now. “You think I don’t hear you cry to yourself at night when you think you’re alone? Or when you hang out with those friends of yours and get suddenly quiet?” You open your mouth, then close it. Yoongi had attended a total of one party with you and your friends. You were surprised he picked up on it at all.

“But she’s your soulmate,” you say, confused. He shrugs and sits back down on the couch, flicking the TV back on.

“Yeah, she’s also someone I don’t know, and someone I’m not going to bother to know” he says easily. “I’m not gonna chase after her if it means losing a friend.” You didn’t even know he considered you a friend.

“B-but that night at the club?”

“Didn’t know she’d be there,” he says. “I’d told her to never contact me again the day I met her. Just because she thinks its okay to be unfaithful to her partner doesn’t mean I think its okay too. I’m not about to live that kind of life, especially with someone who thinks something like that is okay.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You take a hesitant step forward.

“What’re you watching?”

“Sky Castle.”

“Can I— can I join you?” He nods, patting at the empty spot on the couch next to him. “What if you regret this down the line?” You ask at last, sitting down on the other end of the couch. It’s your worst fear and you can’t believe you’re voicing it. “What if one day you wake up and wish you’d gone after your soulmate instead of settling for me?”

He smiles faintly, more to himself than anything. You think this is the first time he’s probably smiled in your presence.

“I made a choice already 5 months ago. Haven’t regretted it yet,” he says simply. He doesn’t deny that he settled for you, not when it’s the cold hard truth. You settled for him too after all.

The couch feels like home for the first time since you’d moved in.

Things change again quickly after that. You and Yoongi fall back into that seamless schedule, but now there’s a little something to it. The two of you are still far from a couple, but you find yourself curling up next to him in front of the TV more often. He waits for you to eat the meals the two of you are able to eat together. The two of you even do activities outside the apartment. You meet more his friends and he meets more of yours. Its progress. You don’t mention his soulmate again, and neither does he.

You find Yoongi’s actually a really easy person to get along with. He’s funny in his own dry, sarcastic way, often saying jokes with the straightest of faces. He snappish and straightforward and has an incredibly low tolerance for bullshit. His friends baby him, probably because of his smaller stature and childlike features, and although he grumbles, he lets them. You even think he enjoys it. He smiles more in front of you now, gums on display, and you know that his cold persona in the beginning was just a front. In reality Yoongi is a shy, awkward boy that finds it hard to make friends, and so he comes off aloof, but is anything but

It also makes sense to you why Yoongi had been so firm in staying with you all those months ago. He’s steadfastly loyal, never going back on his word, and even honest to a fault. Sometimes, when you’re in one of your self-deprecating moods, you think he only chose to stay with you because of his principals, and not because he actually cared for you beyond a friend. But you’re glad he’s here nonetheless. With all your friends paired off, you’re glad you have someone to do things with. Someone who, in a way, belongs entirely to you.

You marry Yoongi exactly one year after the two of you met. Non-soulmate matches don’t have the deadline to wed as soulmates do. As long as Big Brother (as Solhee so lovingly calls the federal government) knows you’ve been matched in their system, you can take things easy and get to know one another. How sweet of them to allow that, you think to yourself sarcastically.

He looks smart in his plain black suit, hair neatly parted, showing off his forehead and well marked eyebrows. He looks older like this. You wear a simple white dress, and carry a bouquet of lilies down the aisle. Yoongi doesn’t cry with happiness at the sight of you, but his slight grin warms your heart. You know that whatever the case, you’ll be comfortable with him.

He plants a simple kiss on your lips, a formality more than anything else. You and Yoongi aren’t physical. What you share is a platonic friendship, and you try not to let your mother’s suggestive wink cloud your mind. While you like Yoongi, you’re not sure you think of him in that way, and he definitely has never thought of you as anything more than a friend. Yoongi’s hands are warm and calloused and familiar, and you think you can learn to make a home in them.

“My parents are soulmates,” you tell him on your wedding night as the two of you lie on your shared bed staring up at the ceiling. “They met when my mother was 27, my father 32.” You don’t know why you’re telling him this. You’ve changed into your comfy PJs, but Yoongi is still in his dress shirt and trousers, top buttons undone, tie loose. You want him to know you.

“Mine were too,” he hums. You turn to look at him. You’ve never met his mother. His father and brother were at the wedding, but you weren’t sure if the topic of his mother was a sensitive issue. “Until things didn’t work out and she left him.”

“Oh?” Stories like that were rare. This is your first time hearing one. Yoongi doesn’t elaborate on his mother’s life and you don’t ask, grateful that he’s entrusted you with this information.

“I guess that’s why I don’t really believe in the whole soulmate thing,” he continues, sitting up and pulling his tie off. “There’s no such thing as fate or destiny. It’s all about choices and commitment.”

His soulmate mark is visible to you now as he gets up to take his shirt off and change into something comfier. It almost looks like a tattoo, a small fish, not unlike the one he wears in his necklace. The mark is familiar to you now, but it doesn’t carry the same pain. His words are new to you, having grown up around talks of fate and destiny, but you find comfort in them. Hearing him say it like that makes your heart warm. The two of you fall asleep easily that night, facing each other, but still a few feet apart

Yoongi’s eyes flash as you enter the bar. You’d gotten dressed at Solhee’s place and she’d sat you down in her chair, eyes devious, and done your makeup. You feel uncomfortable in your skin, face heavy with everything she’d slapped on it and you pull down your skirt.

“Cheer up, you look hot as fuck,” Solhee hisses beside you as the two of you make your way to the reserved table where the rest of your friends are. “If Yoongi doesn’t get a boner after this, I don’t know anymore.” You shush her hastily, ears going red as you sit down across from your husband. He’s still staring at you, something dark evident in his eyes, and you try to ignore the roaring in your ears.

Marriage had treated you two well. You still weren’t physical, but sharing pecks before heading off to work, or cuddling and hand holding weren’t foreign concepts anymore. You weren’t sure how far Yoongi wanted to go, and you didn’t know what you yourself wanted.

Yoongi looks good today. He’s wearing his infamous dark silk button up, with the top three buttons undone so you can see the column of his throat. His hair is parted and in the dim lighting he almost looks like a feline ready to pounce on his prey. You swallow.

Your husband’s beauty is not foreign to you. You’ve seen him shirtless before after all. You’ve seen his hands as they glide over piano keys or when they pluck at his guitar. Yoongi is beautiful and you can’t deny the attraction you have grown to hold for him. Your insecurities however, prevent you from verbalizing your thoughts. There’s just no way he’d be attracted to you, not in that way. Next to Yoongi, you look painfully average.

He doesn’t say much, just sits across from you and sips on his whiskey, occasionally leaning forward to snag a nacho from the shared plate the table has ordered. You wonder if he’s angry at you about something.

Halfway through the night, the several glasses of wine you’ve drunk catch up to you and you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. You’re trying not to stumble and you’re thankful you make it to the bathroom in one piece.

When you come out of the stall and are washing your hands, you jump when you see Yoongi enter the bathroom.

“Yoongi!” You hiss. “This is the girl’s bathroom—.” Yoongi raises a well-marked eyebrow, and walks up to you in two quick strides. Before you know it, he’s crushed his lips to yours. You’re taken aback but you melt into the kiss quickly, hands roaming up to grasp onto the front of his shirt. His hands settle on your hips before moving to grab your ass. You gasp and he takes the opportunity to explore your mouth with his tongue.

Dimly you’re aware that this is technically your first real kiss. He tastes like whiskey as he pulls you closer to him, shoving a leg between your thighs. You let out a whimper, and you can feel him smile against your mouth. He lets go with a pop before latching his lips onto your neck. You throw your head back with a groan, freely grinding on his thigh now as he licks a thick stripe up your neck and nibbles at your ear.

“Let’s get out of here,” he groans, voice deep. “Before I fuck you in this disgusting bathroom.” You moan at his words and make a voice of complaint when he pulls himself away. You straighten your skirt hastily and eye him, his lips swollen and smeared with your lipstick. He grabs your arm by the wrist and pulls you out of the bathroom, out of the bar and into the crisp night air. The two of you giggle as you walk to your apartment, Yoongi stopping you periodically to steal kisses.

You unlock the door hastily, and he pushes you in, slamming the door behind him and latching onto you immediately. You moan as his hands reach your skirt and pull it up over your ass.

“God,” he groans in between kisses. Your shaky hands are unbuttoning his shirt. You push it off him. “Please tell me you want this.” He walks you towards your bedroom, shoving you onto your bed.

“Yes,” you respond instantly, breathless, looking up at him. “Yes, oh god, of course I do.” He’s climbing on top of you now, leg back between your legs. You grind onto his thigh, wild moans escaping your mouth as he sucks a bruise onto your neck, his rock-hard erection prominent against your core. Your hands find his belt and take it apart, undoing the buttons on his jeans. He sits up to push his pants off him before reaching over to tug your top over your head. You’re left in a bra and underwear, your skirt bunched up at your waist, staring at him expectantly.

That night is simple, the two of you moving in unison, finding what the other likes. Your hands disappear in his hair and he makes a home in the crook of your neck as you reach your respective highs.

You fall asleep blissful and satisfied, curled up in Yoongi’s arms.

Your relationship takes yet another turn after that moment. Now its like the two of you can’t keep your hands off of each other. Consequently you do it on every surface in the apartment. It’s funny, you think, you haven’t even said the L word to each other yet, and you’re not even sure if you do. Growing up, you were taught that one came after the other, but your relationship with Yoongi is anything but conventional.

At night, he holds you, curling his body around you like a child. You can hear his heartbeat this way, and nights soon become the things you look forward to the most.

It still doesn’t make the relationship easy. You argue, slam doors, ignore texts, but at the end of the day when you crawl into bed, apologies evident on your tongue, he pulls you in and kisses the crown of your head wordlessly.

You and Yoongi are solid; a team, almost. You think you work well together. Growing up you were taught that finding your soulmate meant ringing bells, and puzzle pieces feeling like they were slotting into place and you spent your entire adolescence craving that. But whatever this is that you share with Yoongi is special, in its own way. There are no sparks, no flashing lights, and definitely no bells. Now you know what Solhee meant all those years ago about the feeling of coming home. There isn’t any other way to describe this feeling.

There are many more turning points in your relationship that you look back on fondly — the day you told him you loved him is one you remember vividly. It was nothing special, just casual conversation over dinner. He’d given you a blinding smile and returned the sentiment.

“Do you regret it?” You ask, out of nowhere. You’re washing dishes and he’s beside you helping you dry them.

“Hm?”

“Choosing me, back then. Do you regret it?” You know the answer already. Gone are the many months you spent belittling yourself. It’s been a few years with Yoongi now and you know exactly where you stand with him.

“I wonder sometimes,” he hums. “How differently things would’ve played out.” Don’t we all, you muse to yourself. You could’ve been matched with anyone but somehow it was Min Yoongi that stood in front of you on that cold, snowy that day, unsmiling and unfamiliar. It feels like a lifetime ago. When you look at him now, he’s heartbreakingly familiar. You know him like the back of your hand. “But there hasn’t been a single day where I’ve regretted you.” You grin and poke his cheek with your soapy hand.

“Go wake Sunhee up,” you laugh. “It’s time to feed her.”

“Yes ma’am,” he tells you dutifully and you watch as he shuffles into the second smaller bedroom. Gone is the studio equipment, replaced with pastel green walls and a small wooden crib Yoongi had crafted himself. Sometimes, when you look in there, you can still see a dark-haired boy with his eyes closed, playing on that old brown piano.

#kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #min yoongi #yoongi fluff #bts #bts fluff #yoongi #suga #suga fluff

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theomengirl · 4 years ago

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~ GOM as a father ~

[notes] ~ hello! i' m sorry for not being active for the past two weeks because i was battling writer's block, and since college has started it also got in the way of my writing. the requests are piling up and i'll try to work on them as soon as possible ;;; here's a hc of your fav gom boys while you wait. thank you! ♡

Kuroko

the most normal out of the 6.

he’s really appreciative and compliments his child on something they do.

the type to give a sweet morning call and kisses them as soon as they wake up.

later at night, he would read them books and stay longer before their bedtime just to have a simple talk. “what was your favorite part of today?”

also assures them that he's all-ears if they're bothered by something.

no matter how bad his day went, he would never show it in front of them.

you and Kuroko always stick a note filled with encouraging words on their lunchbox to boost their spirit.

sets a healthy lifestyle to help with their growth because he doesn't want them to take after his low stamina.

he loves to assist when they have an art project and he'd display the artwork at home while giving a pat on the head. "look at this awesome work made by you."

Kise

the moment he officially became a dad, he cried for a whole day.

one night, you felt exhausted and Kise wasn't on the bed the moment you woke up. then you found him at the room next door, snoring on the carpet with scattered diapers while your child was sleeping soundly in their crib.

hangs family pictures all over the house and he puts his child's shots throughout the years. he's also active on social medias to boast about his little family.

he's clingy and would give big hugs and kisses at random times, for no reason at all. often argues about who love whom more.

a little sad when they refuse to accept his affection. "dad, stop it. i'm older now." "doesn't matter, i'd still hug and kiss you every day even if you grow grey hair."

spoils them with toys until there's barely any space to keep them, which gaining him a whack from you. "don't buy toys anymore." but he just couldn't look away and came home with another one.

brags about the magazines which he featured on. "doesn't your dad look handsome here?"

he takes his child to his photoshoot site once in a while and the people there would squeal.

his heart breaks if he sees them getting frustrated or sad. "hey, you have your mom and me. you'll always be our biggest pride so let's figure out together, alright? now should we crash at your favorite restaurant?"

gets excited when they do. he's also good at role plays, sometimes a cop, a prince, a monster, etc.

Midorima

a little awkward and confused as how to act natural when his child pretend to shoot him or he plays a prince.

"mom, can you play with me? dad's terrible." then he'd call Kise to ask for some advice.

often doubts himself whether he's a good father or not, but that thought got washed out after his child came home saying he got an A for his essay; 10 things i love about my father. reading it before he leaves for work has become a routine.

bonds over basketball. he'd teach his child how to shoot threes and encourage them until they get better.

he makes sure they keep lucky items with them every day.

totally lost his cool and was panicking when his child got a fever. you tried to calm him down but he instantly rushed to the hospital, only to return home again because the doctor said it wasn't serious; just a usual fever every kid runs to.

the type to set a curfew.

might push them in term of academics, but not too hard. and he would always praise them no matter how bad the score they get. "it's just a number. i just hope you understand the subject so it'll be an advantage for you in the future, you can always do better, because you're our son/daughter."

lowkey jealous if the Shutoku uncles get close to them and glares at Takao because his child seems to favor him.

Aomine

the troublemakers in the house, especially if he has a son. a carbon copy just in a smaller size.

definitely passes on his basketball legacy and they would lose track of time. you had to call them multiple times over dinner only to get responded with "5 more minutes!" and lasted for another hour.

tells them the importance of teamwork no matter how good they are in basketball. he doesn't want his child to repeat his mistake in the past.

"why are you worried over the exam you just finished, when the scores aren't out yet at that? honey, tell the kiddo what place i was during high school," he said as he laid down on the sofa, watching tv while picking on his nose. "your dad was in last place."

he would give a lesson to whoever tries to pick up on or belittle his child.

try to position himself a friend instead of a parent so they'll not be afraid to open up to him.

calls them with pet names he comes up with or he just go with "oi kiddo"

lots of skinship and he often buries them under his large body or traps their head under his shirt when he's being playful.

"don't grow up too fast. i'll be sad, you know?"

Murasakibara

despite his habit of unhealthy eating, he restricts his child to do the same.

"no more candies." "but dad, you had it more than me. can i, please?" "no. you're still growing, your teeth will rot." "so can i eat as much as you once i grow up?" "still no."

the happiest when the school invites parents for a one-day activity together. the other children hover around him because they find his purple hair amusing.

you were amazed by how much he had matured after having a child compared to before the marriage.

rewards them with snacks and sweets if they achieve something.

loves to give them teddy bear hugs.

Akashi

sets good examples that his child would follow; a man with manners.

pays full attention to their education. at the same time he takes things slowly and is aware that his child isn't a machine that should excel at everything.

"please do tell me if you ever feel like the lesson doesn't suit you. talk to me, okay?"

says "i love you" or "you're the greatest thing ever happened in our life" whenever he gets the chance.

tries his best to spend some time with them despite his busy schedules as he doesn't want to lose track of their growth.

takes them along to his business trips, classical concerts or simply playing basketball with the uncles from Teiko in hopes that his child will learn naturally by watching.

he would never demand them to be perfect like the doctrine he received from his father, because his child's happiness is number 1 priority above anything else.

teaches them leadership skills and how to earn other people's respect without hurting them.

overall, he avoids to repeat his past by being more considerate and affectionate to his own child which he treasured so much.

#kuroko no basket scenarios #kuroko no basket imagines #kuroko no basket x reader #kuroko no basket #kuroko tetsuya #aomine imagines #aomine daiki #kise ryouta #midorima shintarou #akashi seijurou #aomine x reader #kuroko's basketball #kuroko no basuke #anime #sports anime

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 4 years ago

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The Call of the Wild Woman

Just some fluff featuring the green-haired goddess of NXT.

Pairing: Shotzi Blackheart x OFC

Word count: 2,412

Content advisory: brief sexual references, language

The first time I met Shotzi, I instantly liked her. We shook hands and she gave me this smile that made me feel like I was having a great day, even though there hadn’t been anything exceptional about it to that point. I was a little overwhelmed with all the people I was meeting, trying to get a sense of their look, their personality, their character, but I knew from our introduction that I was going to remember her for years, even if I never saw her again.

Of course, Shotzi’s a memorable person. Tall, tattooed, pierced and sporting that incredible acid green hair, it would be hard not to remember her. But I felt like I’d remember her vivacious eyes and confident smile just as much as the things that made her stand out from a mile away. My whole first day getting led around the performance center, I found my eyes drawn back to her whenever she appeared.

I had just been moved to NXT to take over as their chief makeup artist. I’d been working on Raw for close to a year when the position opened up and I’d been so excited and nervous about whether I’d get the job that I felt as if I’d barely slept for two months. My boyfriend and I actually broke up while I was waiting to hear back and I hardly noticed. We’d been struggling since his work had moved him out of state, and things had just sort of ended like a wave washing over a sandcastle. I wasn’t bitter but I was lonely. And that, along with my desire to show that I could run a team in high pressure situations, meant that I threw myself headlong into the new job. I tried to keep some time to see friends but work seemed more rewarding.

By the time I’d been there a few months, my circle of friends was largely made up of coworkers. There were always birthdays or barbecues or other things going on, and it was fun to be able to dish about work without having to explain a lot of background detail. I was enjoying myself. But, yeah, I was definitely lonely.

I dropped a couple of hints here and there that I wouldn’t mind being fixed up with any single male friends and a couple of the women made suggestions. A couple of the men did too. But none of it went anywhere. I was too busy and too awkward to make a first move and if any of the suggested bachelors ever thought to check me out on social media, it never resulted in a phone call.

Shotzi was always one of my favorite models. I loved transforming her from the natural beauty she was to the wild child who appeared on tv every week. And while we’d talk about work, she also had the greatest gifts as a storyteller, and the crazy stories to complement her skills. She’d been raised around bikers and conservative immigrants at the same time. She’d worked as a late night host for a horror movie tv broadcast before she became a wrestler. It was like she’d been born to perform and had found a way to do so while still being herself.

I found myself sitting at home, always alone, watching the silly and shocking horror movies she’d recommend to me, or tracking down music by bands she’d mention or whose shirts she’d wear. When she’d worked on tv, she’d developed a loyal following of teenage boys and girls who used to do everything from message her begging her to go out with them to sending her love letters and poetry to showing up outside the station in the hopes of meeting her. It sounded both creepy and sad but I sympathized a little with her starry-eyed fans. She was a kind of dazzling whirlwind of a person and, indeed, I was dazzled by her.

One day, I’d showed up at work after a particularly inauspicious Tinder date. The guy had picked me up for what was supposed to be coffee and a walk but had insisted that we stop by his friend’s place so he could get some pot. The three of us shared a joint and I assumed we were about to leave when another joint appeared. Being a lightweight, I declined but the two of them proceeded to smoke it themselves. Then the friend’s roommate came home from band practice. She pulled out her bong and that was getting passed around while she played us the hour-long piece of meandering prog that they’d created that day. All three of them seemed really entranced by what they could hear in the music, which I was pretty certain they were imagining.

About an hour later, my date and his friend started playing video games. I quietly tried to suggest that we leave and at least grab that coffee because I was clinging to the hope that maybe the guy, who was way cuter than I’d counted on, might have some redeeming qualities. He assured me we could leave in a minute. He and his friend were completely absorbed in their game, while the roommate randomly started telling me about how her mother had given birth to her at a Grateful Dead concert in the eighties, after following the band on tour for years. She didn’t seem to care much if I responded and would focus entirely on her phone every minute she wasn’t speaking.

Eventually, the roommate had begun to complain loudly that she was hungry and the guys agreed that we should order pizza. I handed over some money and advised them that I was a vegetarian, only to be surprised by a pizza that arrived looking like it had been fished out of a trash can, topped with pepperoni and cheese. I knew the place they’d ordered from and some quick math in my head made it clear that I had paid for basically all the pizza. They assured me that I could just pull the pepperoni off.

I was about to leave but my date insisted that we could head out in a few minutes to find me something I might actually want to eat. He was cute enough that I‘d agreed to stay just a little longer. A few more guys showed up to buy pot. Then friends of the roommate‘s had shown up with beer and put the stereo on so loud I thought the ceiling might cave in. I ended up leaving at eleven without even saying goodbye. When I got home, I realized that I‘d lost my house keys and had to ask a neighbor to help me break into my apartment.

I told this story to my coworkers to a chorus of loud “nos'' and peals of laughter. Others shared some bad date stories but this one did seem pretty dire. Everyone commiserated and it did make me feel better, like the night hadn’t been a total washout because I had a good story to tell and, as a couple of the girls pointed out, dates I had in the future were likely to seem pretty good in comparison.

“You should have taken some of the pot!” Shotzi exclaimed to a round of agreement.

“I wish I’d thought of that.”

It was a few days later that I was prepping Shotzi’s makeup and I noticed that she was a bit quieter than usual. She wasn’t unfriendly but there was something off.

“You ok?” I asked quietly, sweeping my brush out to give her the perfect cat’s eye flip.

“Yeah, I’m great.”

She didn’t sound great, or at least not in the enthusiastic way she usually did. I felt my neck getting tense as I tried to lead the conversation for the first time, knowing I wasn’t nearly as good at it as she was. I didn’t want to push her to tell me what was on her mind and at the same time, I felt like my forced smalltalk was probably grating on her nerves. I wanted to be entertaining but I lacked the stories and the flair.

Finally, when I announced that I was finished, she stood up just a few inches from me. I expected her to tell me to wish her luck, which I always did, but she didn’t move, her bright eyes focused on mine.

“Do you want to go out some time this weekend?” She asked.

“Like, hang out? Sure.”

She shook her head. “No. Do you want to go on a date with me?”

I sucked in a sharp breath, not knowing quite what to say. I fell back on the default. “Um, I don’t actually date women.”

“Oh.” She looked sad for the first time and a little surprised. “I’m sorry, I read some singles wrong. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“Not at all. I mean, it’s no big deal. I just… you’re gorgeous. I’m just not…”

“It’s fine,” she insisted, extending a hand as if to pat my arm but withdrawing it before she did. “Please, forget I ever said anything.”

Of course, I couldn’t forget that. In fact, I couldn’t even get it out of my head. I’d always dated men. I’d known women who were bisexual and lesbian but none of them had ever expressed an interest in me and I hadn’t found myself attracted to them. But Shotzi was attractive. She was stunning. And the more I thought about that first reaction I’d had to her, the more it seemed similar to the way I’d reacted to men I’d been involved with in the past. I just hadn’t noticed the similarity because she was a woman and I wasn’t into women.

But maybe I was into one woman.

She stayed friendly with me, although she didn’t linger as long in the makeup chair regaling me with tales of her rock ‘n’ roll childhood or films that had made her who she was. I hadn’t even realized that she had been lingering before. I just thought we’d been having great conversations. We had been having great conversations. Had I been sending the wrong signals?

I knew that I had marveled at how beautiful and unique she was. I’d gushed, really. But I’d been so floored by her that I felt like I had to let off some steam in the form of compliments or I’d never be able to focus on anything else. That didn’t change after the “asking me out” incident. The fact that I couldn’t release any of my thoughts made it harder to think about anything. I’d see her and I’d spend ten minutes feeling like kind of an idiot, then half an hour thinking about her chatoyant eyes, about the perfect heart shape of her face, or her full lips.

It was a few weeks later that I caught myself staring at her from the safety of the shadows while she prepared to go out for a match. I’d often stared at her body and I figured that it was because she had the kind of body that every woman wanted to have: perfect curves, toned limbs, smooth skin… Looking at her in that moment, though, I wasn’t so sure about my motives. Was I wishing that I had those taut thighs or was I wishing that I knew what it felt like to drag my lips along them, to feel her shudder at the sensation of my breath on her sensitive flesh?

Her match was thrilling, as her matches almost always were. She was whipping around the place looking completely out of control, although we all knew she wasn’t. The more danger she put herself in, the more she seemed to glow with internal electricity. It was no wonder that the company was already treating her like a star. You’d have to be dead not to get drawn in by her. But it occurred to me as I watched her that I was more drawn in than others.

When I saw her come backstage, I retreated to my makeup room and counted down what felt like enough time to allow her to unwind, shower and change before I made my way over to the locker room.

“Hi there,” I greeted her, a little shyly.

She glanced up and gave me a big smile while she patted her hair dry.

“Hey you.”

“So, if the offer is still open, I’d like to say yes.”

She arched her elegant brows and gave me a coy smile. “Now what offer would that be?”

“If you still want to, then, yes, I would like to go on a date with you.”

“Interesting,” she drawled. “What brought about this change of heart?”

“You did.”

She bats her eyes and points theatrically at her chest. “Moi?”

I couldn’t help but smile. The light in her eyes told me she was happy but she still wanted to make me work for it a little. Fair enough.

“Ever since I met you, I’ve found all these things- movies, music, all sorts of stuff- that I just never thought of checking out because I either didn’t know about them or because I just never thought I’d be into them. And the more I think about it, the more I think that I might have made a lot of decisions about what I like just because it was what I saw everyone else doing.”

“Well that’s cool, but I’m not a movie or a book.”

“No. You’re this incredibly cool, funny, exciting, sexy person who I love being around and who has me thinking about all sorts of things I hadn’t considered.”

“Ok. How would you feel about a midnight picnic at an old shack I found near the river?” She grinned.

“Will you hold my hand if I get scared?”

“I promise.”

I gave a little laugh and stepped closer to her, cupping her cheek in one of my hands and marvelling at how perfectly it fit there. Unable to resist the temptation, I leaned in and pressed my lips softly against hers. And immediately, a delightful shiver ran through every part of my body.

When we separated, she gave me an almost coquettish smile and laced her arm through mine, steering us out of the locker.

“You know,” I mused, “you don’t seem really surprised by this.”

“I’m not,” she responded with a wink. “I knew you’d come around.”

#shotzi blackheart imagine #shotzi blackheart fanfic #nxt imagine #nxt fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling imagine #wayward wrestle writing

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jokers-of-the-impractical · 4 years ago

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Brian Quinn Mini Series “Don’t You Remember?” Part 1 of 3

(A/N: Woohoo! Part 1 is here! All three parts of this mini series are based on Adele songs, the titles of these songs will also serve as the title of the chapter. Also trigger warning: some swearing, minor counts of abuse, and miscarriage. Enjoy!)

Word count: 3000ish?

As I took one last look in the mirror and smoothed my hair down. I embraced in seeing my reflection in the mirror, it has been so long since I had looked anywhere close to decent, let alone actually dressing up with my hair, nails, and makeup done for an event. I sharply let out a deep breath that I didn’t know I was holding in and reminded myself to have an amazing time tonight. I was walked out of my bathroom and into my bedroom I looked around to see all the progress I had recently made in the past month or so. My bedroom was no longer littered with empty food containers, dirty clothes everywhere, and most importantly I was no longer a wreck that was either huddled up on the floor curled into a ball, only moving to my bed, the kitchen, or the bathroom. Remembering the last year and the hell I had endure I never thought I would be okay again. I stopped the thoughts that were pooling in my head, tonight was about me and my life, I was not gonna spend any more time thinking about my stupid ex boyfriend and havoc he wreaked on my life. Besides tonight I was going to see the celebrity that I wanted to be my boyfriend in real life so that made me beyond thrilled. I was taken out of my day-dream by the sound of my phone notifying me that my Uber was a minute away, I gave my cat a few pets and a kiss on the head before I got in my Uber and began my journey to the venue.

As I was dropped outside of the venue I saw the giant sign lighting up with the four friendly faces that were the event. Sal, Murr, Joe, and Q all with the biggest smiles with tonight’s date in big letters. I could barely contain my excitement as I got in line. I smoothed my black jumpsuit and waited eagerly to get inside. I looked around to see what other people chose to wear and I was nervous. A lot of people came in t-shirts and shorts and there I stood with my hair curled, with a cat-eye and deep red lipstick, dark painted nails, and in a skin-tight black jumpsuit with a sheer netting top with two lace appliques on the chest with a nude camisole layered underneath, it was topped off with my favorite opal halo ring, stud earrings, my nose ring, and finally my black vans. I decided to heck with it! I love this outfit and that is all that matters. Soon, I got up to the front of the line got my ticket scanned and went inside to find my seat. Not long after sitting and waiting the stage lights lowered and the venue erupted with screams and applause as the Jokers entered the stage.

The show was a blast! It was filled with so much silliness and laughter, and meshed into an enjoyable blur as I found myself exiting the venue and waiting near their tour bus. I had done this so many times after concerts that I hoped that maybe I’d get to at least see them up close in person. While I waited with the ten or so other people that had the same idea. I chatted with the roadies and other various crew that were outside, just because they weren’t famous didn’t mean they were any less cool, so I talked them about cool stories from tours they’ve done and any other topics that came up. After standing out there for what felt like hours, the jokers came out of the venue and the other people pushed and shoved past me trying to get photos and autographs from the guys. I was beyond star-struck to see the four guys who unknowingly gotten me through so much recently that I froze in place. I felt my hand slip into my bag and clutch on the envelope I had in there. I was in awe seeing them like a few feet in front of me. But I also realized when everyone else pushed past me I was now at the back of the line. I mean don’t get me wrong, I am thrilled to see them not through a TV screen but part of me hoped that I would be able to give Q the letter I wrote him in person. Seeing how after his horrible love life he was still able to find joy and bring it to others as well inspired me and played a huge part in helping me get over the nasty breakup I went through with my ex Dean. I stayed at the back listening to them talking to the fans and answering questions and debated leaving seeing as there was no way I was going to get to talk to Q. As I was about to turn around and leave Sal spoke up,

“Hey what about you back there standing all by your lonesome?” I looked around, surely he couldn’t be talking to me. “Yeah you! In the black jumpsuit.” Oh my God, he is talking to me. He motioned me to come over, and had the group of fans make a path for me. I gently shuffled to face the Jokers, I could barely breathe and I was practically shaking with excitement. There before were the Impractical Jokers. I took a brief moment and glanced at each one of them, Q last of course because he had always been my favorite. When I looked at his facial expression, I couldn’t quite place it. I had never seen him make that face on the show before.

“What’s your name?” Joe asked.

“I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you guys.”

“Hey Y/N! It’s nice to meet you too, is there anything we can do for you? A picture, an autograph?” Murr asked with his bright smile never fading

“I mean I would love a picture, but I don’t want to keep you guys too long. I mean I’m traveling to your show tomorrow night too, so it’s not a big deal or anything.” I saw Sal nudge Q once or twice on the arm before Joe finally spoke up. “Oh of course! Don’t worry you’re not taking up too much time or anything we love you guys!” I beamed a ginormous smile when he said that and asked one of the other fans to take a photo of all four of us and thanked them as they handed me my phone back. Now, I knew it was now or never that I had to give Q the letter so I piped up again.

“There is one more thing! If that’s okay?” I know they had just said it was, but I still wanted to check. Now, Joe tapped on Q. Huh, he was really shy in person, he didn’t speak a single word since I’ve been up here.

Sal smiled and was the one to answer this time, “Heck yeah, what can we do for ya Miss Y/N?” As soon he asked, he looked back at Q and I heard a small exasperated sigh.

My hands got shaky again as I reached into my purse and pulled out the letter sealed in an envelope and addressed to Q. “Um here, Q. I have this letter I wrote you and I was hoping to give it to you in person.” As soon as I said his name Q’s eyes darted to mine. He took it from and paused for a second. The whole world seemed to be silent in that moment.

Finally I heard Brian Quinn speak, “is it okay with you if I read it now, like not out loud or anything. I just want you to be here when I read it.” I felt a blush rise to my cheeks, never did I think I would be standing in front of Brian Quinn as he read my story about my horrible ex boyfriend who broke my heart and left me during some the of worst parts of my life to be faced alone. Just a year ago I was sure I was gonna marry Dean, that he was it. But instead he chose to flirt with my best friend, cheat on me, and claimed I was lying when I told I was pregnant after I got fed up and left him. He still thought I was lying when I told him the stress he caused me resulted in a miscarriage. Through the whole breakup (and most of the relationship too) Dean had me convinced that everything that happened was my fault and I should have been grateful to have him be willing to date me in the first place. The only thing that got me out of a year long slum of sadness and heartache for the Dean I used to know and the child I had lost was watching Impractical Jokers, they were the people that taught me to smile and laugh again. Because of them I went back to work teaching elementary school and finding happiness and joy in the little things. I nodded my head to Q that he could read it now. Before them, I used to look back at the relationship begging Dean to remember why he loved me before, but they helped me realize I deserved more.

I watched him open the envelope, take out the multipage letter and begin to read it. I could tell when he was getting into all the gory details of my breakup by the way his face showed sadness, and then anger. The guys kept watching him, trying to figure out what was going on in the letter. Finally, as he was getting to the end I saw a small smile on his face. He put the letter back in the envelope and said in a shy voice, “could hang around for a few minutes after everyone else has left? I wanna talk to you about this, but I also wanna make sure everyone gets their photos and stuff.”

“Sure, I could do that.” I let a giggle. After everyone else left, the first thing Q did was hug me. My brain was on fire! My celebrity crush was hugging me? AHH!! OMG YES! It was no measly hug either, it was a giant bear hug, he enveloped me and we stayed like that for a few moments. Finally we pulled away.

“Hey, if this isn’t too forward, what are you doing right now?”

“Umm. Nothing? I was just gonna go home, get ready for tomorrow’s show and go to bed.”

“Would you like to get some food with us? I know a really good 24-hour diner that we’ve gone to when we’ve toured here before.” Okay this had to be a dream, or you hit your head on your ceiling of Uber and are hallucinating right now. There was no way this was happening!

“I would love that!” And with that you and the guys piled into a sleek black SUV and made your way to the restaurant.

On the way there you heard Sal mutter to Joe and Murr, “Geeze this guy practically can’t speak to her cause he thinks she’s so pretty, and now he’s inviting her out to food not 5 minutes later. What is up with him!” Joe and Murr exchanged glances and giggled. They both knew what this feeling was, it was what Joe felt with Bessy and Murr with Melyssa. Wait, he thinks I’m pretty? At the diner, you enjoyed the company of all the guys, with your permission Q divulged into the contents of the letter. By the time it was over Sal was hugging you and practically bawling, Murr was in shock and didn’t know what to say, and Joe was ready to hunt Dean down and kill him. You insisted you were okay and asked to spend the rest of the evening focusing on happy stuff. When it was time to go, Q had you put your phone number in his phone and he did the same with yours. As you were about to order an Uber to take you back home, Q grabbed your hand.

“This might sound crazy... But since you’re a teacher you don’t work tomorrow right?”

“Tomorrow is Saturday so no I do not have work tomorrow.”

“Awesome, so why don’t you come with us on the tour bus to the show tomorrow? It’s so far from here I would hate to think of the travel time it would take you tomorrow.” That really threw you off guard. Brain Quinn wants me to go with him and his buddies on their tour bus, overnight? The other guys chimed in and agreed with him. You thought it over for a moment, ya know what? Why not! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity!

“Sure! I’m down!” They all cheered but then a groan left my lips. “Shoot, but what am I gonna wear? What about the smeared makeup I’ll wake up with?”

“Don’t worry we’ll get that taken care of, Bessy and Melyssa are coming tomorrow so I’m sure they can grab some yoga pants and makeup remover on the way. And plus we have tons of merch shirts so you could take one!” Wow, he really thought of everything didn’t he.

-THE NEXT EVENING-

Bessy and Melyssa were super sweet! Sure enough they came with makeup wipes and some really cute yoga pants that went really well with the tour shirt. I was invited to watch backstage with them and I happily agreed. As the guys were about to go on-stage I heard Sal, Murr, and Joe whispering about some prank punishment they were going to pull on Q at the end of the show. Occasionally, they’d look over at me and then go back to plotting so quietly I couldn’t hear them. Again tonight the show was amazing and funny! These guys just had such amazing chemistry with the audience and each other. Finally it was the end of the show when Joe piped up.

“Before we end for the night, we have a surprise addition to this performance, don’t we boys?” He looked over at Murr and Sal, Q looked around confused.

“Oh that’s right Joseph!” exclaimed Sal, “We have something special planned. And for this, I’m gonna need my buddy Q to go stand in the middle of the stage alone.” Q looked over the guys still wondering what was going on, then he briefly looked at me and then made his way to the middle of the stage.

Murr spoke next, “Joe, Sal, and I thought it would be fun to do an impromptu live punishment on Q. Does that sound good?” Q groaned and the whole crowd cheered. A live punishment how cool! I wondered what they have in mind.

But as soon as Sal started explaining the punishment I tired to put the pieces together. “Ya see,” Sal began, “Very recently Q has become friends with a girl that he finds very very pretty.” Q’s eyes went wide and the crowd continued to scream.

Murr continued “Yup! Just last night, after she fell asleep he could not stop going on about how he thinks he fell in love at first sight, and then after spending hours talking to her, he knew he was sure!” Huh? Did he meet someone else last night? Huh I’m not surprised he’s a chick magnet and amazing.

Joe followed “So we’re gonna need her to come out here right now to do this punishment. Come on out Y/N!” My jaw dropped. Brain thought I was pretty and thought it was love at first sight yesterday! Before I knew what was happening Bessy and Melyssa were leading me to the middle of the stage. Where I was placed right next to Q and the crowd went wild.

The boys asked in unison, “Q are you ready for your punishment?” He looked at me with a shy smile, gulped and then nodded his head. “ASK Y/N ON A DATE!!!” they screamed at the top of their lungs. The noise of the audience was now deafening. Joe came over and handed Q a mic. Then Brain turned to face me, his cheeks the brightest color of red.

“Uh,” he started out. “Hi Y/N.” I was then handed a mic too by Murr.

“Hi.” He leaned in and took a closer look at my face.

“Wait this is you without makeup?” He motioned to my face as he asked.

I nodded my head “yup.”

“Wow, you’re even more beautiful than yesterday. So uhh. Would you like to go on a date with me?” I didn’t even say anything I just turned and hugged him, and kissed him on the cheek. The guys started cheering with everyone else.

Sal said one last time “Okay, so maybe that wasn’t a punishment for Q, but it definitely was for Y/N!” with a laugh “We are the Tenderloins from Impractical Jokers have a good night everyone!” With that we all walked off stage. My mind was racing, Dean who? A year ago I was begging him to remember me, but now I was begging for him to forget me as soon as possible, because the Brian Quinn and I had a date to look forward to.

(A/N: If you read this far, thank you! I know it was LONG. Feedback is always appreciated :) )

#impractical jokers imagine #brian quinn imagine #brian q quinn #impractical jokers #fanfic #imagine #celebrity crush imagine #q #brian quinn

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angrylizardjacket · 4 years ago

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and i’ll miss you

a run to paradise au | [ p l a y l i s t ]

Summary: Lola’s dad, Leo, lives. A series of conversations between Lola, Leo, and Irene, her mother, throughout her life.

A/N: 15,449 words. @misscharlottelee @local-troubled-writer for putting up with me all through writing this. this is making me so fucking emotional you don’t even know. lola’s parents aren’t shitty i promise!! i will say that lola is manipulative but it’s never for negative or selfish (mostly) reasons, but still thought i should warn you.

----

Lola’s sixteenth birthday present from her parents is tickets to see KISS perform live when they were set to come to town in a few months, seeing as how they were currently her whole family’s favourite band. Well, okay, they were her dad’s and her’s, and her mom liked their music well enough but was never fanatical. However, Irene would hum along and tap her foot as she did the diner’s banking for the night once it had closed, as Lola and Leo blasted their music from the jukebox as they were cleaning up for the night.

“A friend of mine got me the tickets,” Leo was telling Lola, “you know Bill, he’s the guy who always eats his fries with no sauce,” he prompts, and Lola makes a noise of recognition.

“He hasn’t been in for a while,” Lola pointed out; he’d been a regular for as long as she could remember, he was a good friend to her father, and once snuck them onto set for a TV show he was working on at the time, though Lola didn’t recognise the show, her dad was overjoyed.

“’Cos he’s been managing KISS!” Leo’s practically bursting with excitement, acting like a big kid, up to his elbows in dishes with his daughter beside him, drying them. Lola, upon hearing this news, almost screams.

“Sweethearts, please don’t let the neighbours think we’re being murdered,” Irene called out from the counter, though there was the faintest smile in her words, and both Lola and Leo called back an apology.

----

For each day that the concert grows closer, Lola grows more anxious. Her friends, while she enjoys their company and their tastes in music, are far more fond of ABBA, and don’t get why Lola’s so excited about punks in face paint. Lola’s cut out a picture of KISS and sticks in the front of her binder, and one friend wrinkles her nose at it, calls them gross.

Lola likes ABBA. Lola likes all sorts of music, Leo had made sure of that, but it was disheartening that her friends weren’t so open minded. Which is why she can’t ask any of them what to wear to the concert; they don’t go to rock concerts. Her dad’s ‘you’ll look kick ass in anything, Lola’ is well-meaning but unhelpful; he has to say that, he’s her dad! Surprisingly, it’s her mom who saves the day.

“You’re fretting, Keola,” her mother says softly. They’re in the diner, side by side at the counter during a lull; the hiss of Leo cooking from the kitchen, and the hum of music from the jukebox fill the air, but Lola’s twisted the straw in her hands that no matter how she untwists it, it’s mostly unusable, not that she’s noticed, looking at the wall where her parents have put their music memorabilia.

“I’m not fretting,” Lola huffs a little. The concert is in two days and she still doesn’t know what to wear, “mom am I a dork?” And it’s more nervous than Lola had wanted it to sound, even if it had been playing on her mind for almost a week.

Irene’s lips twist into something faintly amused at the phrasing, but her eyes are kind and gentle.

“Sweetheart, you are mine and your father’s child,” she says, “we are both very big dorks.” Lola gives her a look as if to say ‘that’s really not what I wanted to hear right now’, but Irene continues, “but I would also say we’re the coolest people I know; me, your dad, and you, of course.” At least at this, Lola’s expression softens, turning honest and a little forlorn.

“All the outfits I try for Saturday make me look like a dork,” she says quietly, “and my friends think KISS is gross.” She doesn’t intend for it to sound petulant, or whiny, though it comes across like that a little, but thankfully her mother can hear how genuinely sad this all makes her.

“Do you want to borrow something from me?” Irene asks, and Lola gives her a somewhat sceptical look that she’d been expecting; her daughter’s only ever known her as her mom, and as an accountant. Even now, she’s in a smart, black button-down and black slacks, knowing full-well that the dress code at Leo’s is quite casual. “I wasn’t always a grown up, you know,” Irene gives a faint grin, and Lola gives her the benefit of the doubt.

----

“Dad, stop- come on dude, be cool,” Lola insisted as she stepped out of her room on Saturday evening, wearing a band t-shirt of his that he’d leant her, her favourite black jeans with the rip in the knee, Doc Martins that had been a present for her last birthday, and the leather jacket from the back of her mom’s closet.

Leo was tearing up. Irene says his name very softly, her hand on his shoulder, but her expression is understanding. He’s really trying to keep it together, but his expression keeps scrunching up like he can’t quite help himself.

“Is that your jacket?” Leo’s voice is strained, looking to Irene.

“The one I wore to every concert we’ve ever gone to together,” Irene tells him, and Leo wraps her up in a hug, hiding his face from his daughter as to not appear as emotionally overwhelmed as he clearly was.

“I can’t believe we raised the coolest kid in the world,” Leo finally spoke, clearly crying with pride. Irene laughed softly from amid his embrace, and as much as Lola could act embarrassed, she herself was trying to act like she wasn’t getting emotional, “it’s her first concert and she’s already cooler than me.” Leo crowed.

“Dad,” Lola said, trying to sound embarrassed, like she thinks any other teenager would probably be, and not grateful, the way she actually feels, “you’re gonna have to redo your eyeliner.” But she can’t help herself, and joins her parents, if only to hide how emotional the moment was, in the way they wrap her up in a group hug.

And before they leave, Irene sets firm ground rules, to make sure neither of them goes too haywire; above all, Lola is never to leave Leo’s sight, she’s strict about this.

“And Lola,” Irene adds, taking a deep breath, “but if you end up meeting the band, if Bill wants to you and dad to say hi after, I know this seems silly, but please promise me something,” Lola frowns a little at her mother’s intensity, but nods as a prompt, “don’t touch them. Don’t let them touch you. Don’t shake their hands. Don’t leave your father’s side at all. Please,” and she looks to her husband, expression imploring, “Leo please, I know you think I’m overreacting, but please.”

“I promise,” Leo says, as serious as Lola’s ever heard her father, and Irene gives a grateful smile, and wishes them a wonderful night.

----

Lola doesn’t have to ask her father if he can see alright, even as she’s sitting on his shoulders; he towers over most of the crowd, and from this vantage point, Lola feels like the most powerful person in the world... Right before the opening act finishes, and KISS walks on stage.

They know all these songs too well, have been listening to them intently for months, and Lola and Leo belt the lyrics back like their lives depend on it. They mosh together when she climbs off his shoulders.

“Don’t you wanna push through to the stage?” He yells over the music; he’s ready to steamroll through the crowd if Lola asked, but she’s shaking her head, grinning from ear to ear.

“I’d rather hang out back here than for people to start throwing stuff at you because you’re blocking their view,” she points out, before adding, “don’t be weird, dad, I’m doing this for the greater good.” Leo raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning from ear to ear with pride. He doesn’t say that she’s considerate, he doesn’t argue that even if she were at the front of the crowd, he could still stand back and still have her in his sights, he just enjoys the moment, enjoys the fact that his daughter still likes his company.

“You’re a good kid, Keola,” he tells her seriously, as the song is winding down. Lola makes a face at that, but then grins and shouts;

“And whose fault is that?!” With amusement and love in her voice.

She’d had her angry, bitter moments, had cursed him and her mom and the diner and the work she had to do when her friends were out being hooligans, but he was grateful for moments like this, for moments when he knew that deep down, she loved him, and loved her family.

As the night comes to an end with three encore songs, and as everyone’s filing out in a messy stream, a pair of surly-looking security guards cut easily through the crowd to Lola and Leo, telling them that they need to come with them. Lola, terrified that they were going to get reprimanded for how she’d been sitting on her dad’s shoulders and probably blocking people’s view for a third of the show, is glued to her father’s side as he’s trying to make conversation with the now-silent security detail.

But then there’s Bill, former diner regular, current KISS manager, beaming from ear to ear, welcoming them backstage with open arms, wishing Lola a happy birthday, giving a joking apology that the tour was two months too late for her. Lola laughs with relief, and steps apart from her dad as she follows Bill through the theater’s winding corridors to the green room, but Leo’s still got a hand on her shoulder; she’s glad for the contact, not wanting to get lost.

“You sure we’re allowed to be back here,” there’s something strange in her dad’s tone, like he’s trying to imply something that goes over Lola’s head. Bill gives him a knowing, but reassuring look, as he tells Leo that it’s fine, and that the band will be on their best behaviour while they’re there. His gaze flicks to Lola for a moment; she’s confused, what, are they drunk or something? Even at sixteen, and as much of a wild child as her father was - and still kind of is - she’s naive.

Well, okay, the band are already drunk, but at least that seems to be the worst of it.

They’re still in their makeup, though it’s a little smeared, a little sweated-through, but they’re bright and friendly and forthcoming, and seem so grateful when Leo and Lola both babble their praises. Bill introduces them as old friends, as ‘Leo and his daughter, Lola’ with a strange emphasis on daughter that Lola doesn’t catch, but then the band, who’d been watching the two of them, watching Lola talk about how cool it was, how much she loves them, they look at Leo as if seeing him for the first time. He’s bigger even than the security guards, with his hand on Lola’s shoulder, standing close to her; the band are watching him like startled rabbits all of a sudden, and when Lola looks to her father, she sees him levelling a look of warning at the band. The moment he sees Lola looking, however, he grins down at her, and addresses the band.

“Listen, we’re absolutely stoked to get to meet you guys, you fuckin’ kick ass -”

“Kicked. Fucking. Ass!” Lola agrees as punctuation, and the tension in the room eases considerably as they all give a fond chuckle at her enthusiasm.

“You want a beer, man?” Ace Freehly asks, and Leo hesitates, looks to Bill, who nods, and then to Lola, who’s finally looking around the dressing room with wide-eyes.

“Just one,” Leo concedes, and Lola nervously asks if she can look around. She gets permission, and Leo sits on the arm of the sofa that Bill had taken up, asking the band what kind of music they listened to in their spare time.

Lola’s naive, but she’s not an idiot; she’s heard bands sing about how they loved girls who were seventeen, she’s heard gossip about celebrities with young girlfriends, hell, she’s at an age where her friends are talking about ‘fooling around’ and it actually means something. And she’d seen how the some of the band members had looked at her, the way she’d dressed up to fit in, maybe looking a little older than she was - she can hear her mother’s warning in her head, and knows why her father was acting protective. For all that the kids her age might think she’s being too safe, being too childish, her parents have never lead her astray; if they’re working this hard to keep her from the band, there was a good reason, and she’d trust them on that.

They leave in much better spirits than they’d arrived, the tension having defrosted between Leo and the band, but even so, as they’re saying they’re goodbyes, and shaking hands, someone offers Lola his hand, but she hears her mother’s voice and moves on instinct, taking a step back, a step closer to her father, though she’s beaming and waving and thanking them for getting the opportunity to meet them, and see them play, and Leo’s hand wordlessly comes to rest on her shoulder, even as he’s using the other to still shake hands. It’s an unspoken connection between them. An understanding for which Leo is so incredibly grateful.

She’s a good kid.

----

“I hear you’re gonna start helping mom with the finances,” Leo says, tone light as he approaches Lola, squirrelled away in the corner booth that’s unofficially hers, as she pores over her homework.

“All I said was that I was thinking of taking a few of the business subjects as electives,” she says, not looking up, sounding distracted, “and music.” She added, as if to put her father’s heart at ease.

“Business subjects?” Leo asks, sliding into the seat across from her. Lola’s holding her highlighter in her mouth, looking up from what looks like English notes. She nods. Leo is quiet, and folds his hands on the table and gives a look that he hopes is intrigued, or curious, or some sort of non-judgemental prompt for her to explain why.

“Mom’s like a calculator of a person; if you could win at doing taxes, you know mom would win taxes,” she says, sitting back and pulling the highlighter from her mouth to fidget with, “and the only reason you don’t have a Michelin Star is because the inspectors are classist, bitch-ass jagweeds who wouldn’t even make the detour that you’re worth -”

“Lola,” Leo admonished her phrasing with a slight frown, and her scowl deepens as she looks to her father.

“Mom said it first.”

“Your mom did not call the Michelin Star inspectors classist, bitch-ass jagweeds,” he countered with, and Lola huffed, knowing it was the truth.

“She called them classist,” she corrects herself, sinking further into the chair and into her terrible posture, “and the other stuff she said too, just not the bitch-ass jagweed stuff,” she concedes, before sighing, and almost out of view from how badly she’s slouching down in her seat across the table, “but I’m just... here, and sometimes I think about seeing if I could talk to Bill about being a musician because I’m kind of okay at piano and singing and that stuff, and I love music and I think it’d be cool to have a job in the music industry, but every time I think about getting a note wrong while someone’s watching me I feel really sick, and now every time I even think about playing in front of people I start feeling really sick, so I’m trying not to think about being a musician, but I keep having these little ideas for the diner and I think about how one-day I’ll be helping run it, and I don’t wanna do what you guys are doing here, so maybe doing not-finance-business-stuff could be my thing.” She’s laying side-ways on the seat of the booth by the end of her rant, hands beneath head, staring at the gum someone’s put there. When she’d finished her homework, she’ll grab the scraper. Oh god, what other teenager thinks like that? Mom was right, she is a dork... Okay, maybe she should have realised sooner, like when she developed a strong opinion on the Michelin Star inspectors.

“Two things,” Leo says, after a beat of silence; he’s still sitting perfectly still, and his voice is kind, “one; if you want to have a job in music, you don’t have to be on stage, you don’t have to have people looking at you if you don’t want,” and as he speaks, Lola slowly raises herself to a sitting position, “and two; what ideas do you have for the diner, kid? I’ve always said we need a designated ideas man, I think you’d be perfect for it.”

In the end, still helps Irene with the finances, though her mom somehow manages to make it interesting, and Lola will always fondly look back on the night she and her mother had taken a break from working on the coming month’s roster to drink milkshakes.

“You’re his favourite person in the world, Keola, he’d steal the moon if you asked,” Irene spoke fondly of her husband, “and of course you’re my favourite too, sweetheart, but I draw the line at using our entire life savings and mortgaging the diner to buy enough tomatoes to fill the diner -”

“But theoretically,” Lola was trying to hold back her laughter, “if we did, we’d have enough money that we could buy enough tomatoes to fill the diner.”

“You’re greatly underestimating the amount of tomatoes we’d need,” her mother chuckled.

“What if I got a great deal on tomatoes, since we’re buying them in bulk?”

“We’re not -”

“Theoretically!” Lola had crowed, which had dissolved into laughter, while her mother played up her annoyance with a sigh, though she was grinning from ear to ear. As the laughter dies out, and Lola finishes her milkshake, she looks over the draft of the roster, and hums. Irene, intrigued, hums in return, hums a question.

“You should put Parker on the weekend; give him the Friday and Saturday nights, and the Sunday lunch,” Lola muses.

“I thought you said he was annoying? Do you want him cooking out the back?” Irene leans forward, following her daughter’s gaze and frowning at the messy schedule.

“Fuck no -”

“Language.”

“He ignores dad’s ‘no idle talking in the kitchen during the rush’ rule, and when he’s serving when it’s not a rush he won’t shut up about WWE, but, he’s cheerful as hell and works well under pressure, which,” Lola takes the eraser from the table and scrubs off a name, before taking the pen from her mother and writing the same name elsewhere, “is why Candice should be taken off the rush on Saturday since she had a meltdown the last three times she was scheduled then. But she’s really good when it’s slow; she refills stuff, helps with prep, folds napkins into swans, and makes great conversation with customers.”

Irene marvels as her daughter talks through a schedule that would optimise each of the strange and wonderful employees they had, and realises something with startling clarity.

Irene knew how the numbers worked. Leo knew how the food worked. Lola knew how the people worked.

----

“Sweetheart, it’s your second-last Prom, wouldn’t you rather go than spend the night at work with your parents?” Irene asked; Prom night was always a slow one, even for a Friday. Lola gives her mother a strange little smile, tapping her fingers against the counter.

“I’m gonna leave it up to chance,” she said, which confused her mother, who was refilling a napkin despenser.

“Leave what - oh, Candice; I know you worked hard as her campaign manager, but she’d want you there with her, win or lose,” Lola’s parents had been confused but supportive when Lola announced that not only their server, Candice, get nominated for Prom Queen, but that Lola was going to be her campaign manager, despite the fact that Prom Queen nominees didn’t usually have a campaign manager.

Candice, who was flourishing with her new shifts, curtesy of Lola’s scheduling, was more than happy to agree, and the two became fast friends. Lola herself was blossoming with the new task, staying up, excitedly making posters, and writing speeches, and hoarding the phone for hours every night to talk to Candice, and the new friends she seemed to be making. It wasn’t that she was unpopular, it’s just that she was standoffish, quiet, and focused, and took pride in her work, which happened to be at her parents’ diner.

Between the campaign, being in charge of the rosters for the diner, the general work she did around the diner, and her school work, Lola’s life was pretty full, and she was surprisingly happy.

Leo had overheard when Candice had approached Lola after her shift, had pointed out how Lola had scheduled her to work on the night of the Prom, and how Lola had sworn before profusely apologising. Lola had offered to cover the shift, and been quick to reassure Candice that it was okay, that she didn’t need Lola at Prom, that she’d do great and be wonderful and that all the hard work was done; now she just needed to look pretty and win. Candice had wrapped her up in a hug, overflowing with gratitude, assuring Lola that she’d owe her one, and in turn, Lola had brushed her off, saying it was nothing, apologising again for the scheduling mistake.

At the time, Leo’s heart had swelled with love for his daughter, proud of her for sticking to her commitments, and for being so kind and reassuring. On the night of the Prom, he sees Lola looking a little giddy, almost a little nervous, and thinks she might just be worried about Candice. Then, when the diner is at it’s quietest, there’s noise outside, and Lola almost shrieks, much to her parents’ dismay.

“They’re here!”

Through the windows, the little family, and the few other employees see a hoard of well-dressed teenagers, some where crowns and sashes, making their way past the window, lead by Candice in a crown, beaming.

There’s chatter, as the other teenagers realise where they are, saying they love this place, some a little tipsy making grateful noises as they divide themselves into groups and fill over half the diner in an instant. There’s a booth where everyone’s wearing crowns, and Candice leaves them, assures them she’d be back, before she bolts to Lola, who’s practically bouncing with excitement. The girls squeal about how Candice won, and she’s adamant she couldn’t have done it without Lola. Of course, Lola humbly brushes it off, babbles about how proud she is.

It ends up as one of the busiest night they’ve had in months.

Perhaps she’d just wanted to help a friend, maybe she’d worked in some way to bring the Prom to her when she ended up not being able to go; mostly her parents think it’s a fluke.

Until the next year.

Until, amid college applications, scholarship applications, work, and homework, Lola sets her sights on campaigning for their new cashier, Abigail, her classmate.

Until it’s her last Prom, and again Lola’s had to swap shifts with the girl she was campaigning for.

Until her parents hear it again.

“They’re here!”

It’s deja vu, with Abigail in a crown, so overjoyed, and grateful, bring with her even more than had been there when Candice had won.

“Didn’t we come here last year? Fuck, man, this place is the fuckin’ best, we should do this every year!” A boy in a white tuxedo announces to a resounding cheer, and yes, he seems a little bit drunk, but Irene and Leo have paused in their food prep to see Lola turn and look directly at them, upon hearing these words, grinning from ear to ear like it was her plan all along.

Oh.

“We may have raised a super villain,” Leo muses, though he can’t stop himself from sounding a little proud as Lola turns back around to head back out and take more orders from students clamouring for food.

----

“I feel like we should sit you down and talk to you about... something, but I’m not quite sure what,” Leo says, wiping down the tables well past midnight, while Lola was cleaning the windows that somehow had grease stains on them. Irene, from where she was organising the till, where they had received so much so quickly that half the bills had been stuffed in haphazardly, chooses this moment to pipe up.

“Using people is wrong, Keola; Abigail and Candice are your friends, you shouldn’t be using them just to make yourself popular,” she reprimands, to which Leo makes a stern noise of agreement. Lola, however, pauses, sitting on the table.

“Ma, if anything, they’re using me; I’m the reason they both won Prom Queen. I wanted to see if business management was something I’d want to do, and it turns out; yes, and I’m good at it. My two-year plan paid off,” she said simply.

“Two year plan?” Irene asked, baffled, and Lola, two months shy of eighteen, crossed her legs and beckoned her parents over.

It takes some explaining, from the fact that when she realised she might want to do business, that she might want to do business managing, and that she’d been thinking about how Leo had told her she could do work without anyone else realising that it was because of her if she wanted to. So she gave herself a challenge; work with the people she knew, to eventually help the business she cared about, the diner. Of course, this asks more questions than it answers.

So Lola explains that she’d switched Candice onto the shifts she works best in to keep her happy, and spent time getting to know her and being kind and building her confidence until she could casually bring up the idea of Prom, and how Candice would kick ass as Prom Queen, and that she had a shot at it, and that Candice would believe her and follow through, and more importantly, let Lola be her campaign manager. Lola knew how people worked, knew what certain people needed to hear, who to interact with to create the most wave, how to market an individual.

“Also, the scheduling thing wasn’t an accident; Candy and Abby love their jobs, and love this place - which is really a testament to both of you - and love me and the fact that I won them Prom Queen; if I tell them I can’t go to Prom and they win, even if I told them I don’t mind not being there, they’d still kind of feel guilty, and I figured they’d want to come and, I dunno, thank me and show off the crown. They love it here and love you guys, like I said, and it’s something to be proud of,” Lola shrugs, wrinkling her nose a little as she looks at her hands, “but, yanno, one night on it’s own doesn’t make a tradition, so I rinsed and repeated with Abby. Now two years in a row, the Prom Queen has come from here, and after the Prom they’ve come here and had incredible food; the people becoming Juniors and Seniors, the top contenders for Prom Court, remember coming here and having a great time after Prom two years in a row. I’m kind of working towards it being a tradition, it was my two year plan; turn one of the slowest Fridays of the year into one of the busiest.”

“While I’m very grateful you were thinking of us,” Leo says slowly, trying to process all the information he’d just received, “you shouldn’t manipulate your entire high school -”

“Twice,” Irene softly reminded him.

“ - twice, just to help the family business.” Leo had his head in his hands.

“No-one was hurt,” Lola added, “and, bonus, I know there’s already a few kind of superstitious Sophomores who will be coming in and asking for job applications soon,” she paused, “not that we need the help, but raises the diner’s profile a little, don’t you think?”

“You know the diner’s doing fine, we’re not struggling, sweetheart,” Irene still sounded like she couldn’t quite believe all of this.

“I know,” Lola’s voice was quiet, and finally her parents looked at her, saw her looking at her hands where she was fiddling, quiet and pensive.

“Then why, Lola?” Leo asked, finally, and she shrugged, a little helpless, as if she hadn’t spent the past two years carefully manipulating her friends, colleges, and peers, simply to increase business at the diner for two nights, one year apart, hoping it would become tradition going forward.

“I wanted to see if I could.”

Looking at their daughter, Irene and Leo see themselves in how she came to be like this; Leo’s got more love in his body than almost any other human, he’s personable and kind and hard working, while Irene’s smart, driven, and ruthlessly pragmatic. Their differences complimented each other, it’s why they worked so well together in all aspects of their life, and to see how well those traits worked within their daughter, they were certainly proud, but Irene quietly suspects that Leo may have been right.

If Lola didn’t become one of the best managers in her field, she’d end up a super villain... Irene’s actually kind of proud, and honestly, so’s Leo.

----

Going to college for Business Management seems like the most logical thing in the world for Lola to do next, and of course her parents would be happy to pay any costs associated, but it’s still nice to discover she’d received a scholarship, thanks to the glowing reports from several of her teachers, whose subjects she made sure to do well in as they would look good when applying specifically to be a business major.

Leo’s the one who drives with her and her things to her new college housing in New York, to her dorm, who meets her roommate and dorm mother, who hugs her for a full minute in the carpark before he leaves. They’re both pretending like they don’t have tears in their eyes.

Lola’s babbling away, reminding him about how he should start advertising the Prom-related discounts for the diner three weeks before the Prom itself, how he should have his employees who are students put up posters around the school, or at least he should put up posters around the school, and the places where teenagers hang out. She’s reminding him which of their employees work best in different circumstances, and why Belinda can’t work with Judas for more than two hours and -

She’s crying, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hands as she talks, until Leo takes her shoulders firmly, and her voice dies in her throat as she comes back to reality.

“You’re going to be amazing,” he says softly, tears shining in his eyes. Lola’s lip quivers at this, and she surges forwards, wrapping him in another hug as she cries.

“You’re going to be amazing, we’re always just a phone call away, my sweet girl, but I know you’re going to take the world by storm,” Leo mutters into her hair, holding her tightly.

“Be good. Be kind. I love you,” he tells her as they finally step back from each other, and Lola wipes at her eyes again, quiet this time, nodding adamantly, before telling him she loves him too, that she’s so grateful for him, that -

“Come on, dude,” Leo says softly, with a gentle smile, “be cool.” And hearing the words that, for so long, had come to mean ‘I love you, I feel the same, but you need to be strong’, since Lola had first said it back when they’d first seen KISS together, has Lola laughing with fond adoration.

None of the other Freshman moving in, saying goodbye to their parents, appear to be half as emotional as she was, but honestly, she didn’t really care.

----

“Hey, question;” Lola’s voice is hesitant over the phone when Irene picks up one quiet evening in the diner at the end of Spring, at the end of Lola’s second year of college, “would you or dad know how to get in contact with that guy who manages KISS? The old regular? Bill?”

“Why?” Irene asked slowly, a little concerned given how much she and Leo had omitted when they talked about him to Lola when she was younger.

“I wanted to see if he needed an intern for the summer.”

It makes sense, but the prospect still makes Irene nervous.

----

“Leo I’m home~” Bill practically sings as he throws the door open to the diner on a bustling Monday afternoon. The server at the door skitters back in the face of his enthusiasm, and as a few mean-looking individuals slink into the diner behind him. Through them all, however, is Lola, who doesn’t even announce her presence, just slips past Bill, darting through the diner and through the kitchen, so by the time Leo’s looks their way, he’s already being bowled over with a hug.

It was a surprise, and Leo’s yelling he’s so excited. KISS is halfway through their tour, playing Providence the following two nights, but Lola and Bill had dragged the band along to surprise Leo while they were close.

Leo’s babbling away as Lola ties up her hair without even having to ask, stepping up beside him and falling into the routine of helping him prepare food. Bill and the band have taken up residence in a booth, chattering amongst themselves, while Lola and her father work and catch up.

“Wait, Lola, sweetie, go sit, go sit,” Leo insisted, catching himself before he lost sight of the whole situation, “I’m not paying you, go sit with the band; you’re customer -”

“Dad -” Lola tried to protest, but Leo was adamant, nudging her out of the kitchen with determination. As they pass the counter, Leo grabs a note book, and gives the confused server a kind smile, following Lola to the band.

“Vito, what do you recco...” Ace asks glancing up from the menu, but he trails off, seeing her father practically shadowing her.

“You guys remember Leo, right?” Bill looked like he was trying not to laugh as he shoved Peter further into the booth to make room for Lola. The others were all, for what seemed like the first moment on tour, silent. Then, Gene speaks.

“If you’re sick of our fuckin’ shit, Bill, murder us yourself, like a real man,” he says, voice gruff, and Lola has to fight not to smile in the face of her father’s bemusement.

“No-one’s getting murdered; Leo’s has the best food this side of the country, right, Vito?” Bill asks easily, looking to her, and she can feel her father’s questioning gaze on her too, so she looks to the others, smile blinding.

“I know I might seem biased, but I swear I’m not,” she fans her fingers out on the table, leaning forward, eyes shining with sudden enthusiasm, “I know you guys have a weird history with my dad, I wouldn’t bring you here if it wasn’t worth it.” She assures, and slowly but surely, the others look at the menu; her dad’s still watching her carefully, even as she’s sitting back, confidently telling the others that whatever they order would be good.

“Was it you or ‘rene who loved The Godfather?” Bill pipes up, addressing Leo, and Lola, in her seat, goes still.

“It’s ‘rene’s favourite movie,” Leo says with a slowly forming smile, as Lola chances a look up at him. When she sees the amused, even proud look in his eyes, she gives a small smile back.

“Is mom around?” Lola asks, gaze quickly darting to the counter and the kitchen, and then to the nondescript door that led to the second floor where she her family had lived all her life.

“At the grocery store, we ran out of whipping cream,” Leo explains, smile growing wider as he lets himself bask in the moment, “menu hasn’t changed much in the last few months, what are you hungry for, Vito?”

Of course Lola’s right about the food, of course, and the band chatters amongst themselves, and to Leo easily enough, though when Irene gets back, for all that she’s thrilled to see her daughter, she’s less than thrilled to see KISS being obnoxious in one of her booths.

Pulling Lola aside, she speaks quietly, glad to see her, demanding to know if the band treats her with respect, scowling when Lola casually rolls her eyes and says the band doesn’t treat anything with respect.

“But I still live by what you said the first time I saw them,” she added, and Irene frowned, “don’t let ‘em touch me, don’t shake their hands.” And Irene gives a faint smile at that. After a moment, Leo’s warm, booming laughter fills the restaurant, and both women turn to see him throwing his head back, eyes creasing in the corner as the rest of the band seem pleased to have made him laugh.

“They’re gonna give you and dad all access passes to their Wednesday show,” Lola says softly, watching the band, watching her dad sit in the seat she’d vacated.

“Oh, that’s so nice, but you didn’t have to -”

“I didn’t ask them to,” Lola tells her frankly, “they’ve been acting like my dad is some violent asshole whenever I bring him up because he was super protective when they met him the first time, even though they know I love him, so I brought them here, and knew dad was too kind of a person, and too good of a chef, to not win them over. They also definitely didn’t believe me when I said how good his food was, even when Bill backed me up. They’re not exactly introspective people, so when they offer the tickets, they won’t realise it’s because they feel guilty for making me upset whenever I bring up dad, but still, they’re trying to make up for it without realising what they’re doing; they think they’re just being kind to a new friend and a cool dude, without thinking about why giving these tickets feels better than it usually does. Friends are made, you guys get cool tickets, everybody wins,” Lola’s still watching the band joke around with her dad and Bill, and she lets herself smile a little, even as her mother is quietly watching her.

“They aren’t my friends this time, mom, this is business, and if they didn’t want to feel guilty for shittalking a good man, then they shouldn’t have shittalked a good man,” and though her mother says her name with a faintly disapproving tone, Lola’s lips thinned with annoyance, “if you disapproved of me doing this shit, you wouldn’t have told Bill about the Prom scheme I pulled in high school.”

Then Irene says her name again, like an apology, like regret, like she was aware of her betrayal.

“On the plus side,” Lola took a deep breath, grinning and finally looking to her mother, “I’ve already kind of got a reputation; Bill called me Vito the first day I came in, which is how I figured out you’d told him, and someone misheard and thought it was my name. It stuck.”

“They’re calling you Vito?” Her mother said softly, earlier disapproval vanishing with soft glee, “for the record, I said that while I don’t condone some of what you did, I admired your tenacity, perseverance, and finely tuned social awareness.” Okay, that made sense, and something warmed in Lola’s heart hearing that.

“Well thanks to that, I think they’re implying that I’m The Godfather,” Lola snorts, looking back at the table, “well, Bill was, the others don’t actually believe it, but they still use the nickname.”

“You don’t want them to know that that’s... your goal, do you?” Irene said, wrapping an arm around Lola’s shoulders. Lola rests her head against her mother’s.

“I’ll only use my powers for good... usually.”

“I know, sweet girl, you’ve got a good heart.”

----

“I’ve got my own desk! I’ve got my own office!” Lola’s all but squealing over the phone to her parents, explaining about how she’d been offered a job with Bill’s company as a PR consultant while she insisted on staying in New York and finishing her degree.

She’s living with her music-producer boyfriend, spending every other weekend at industry events, spending nights in dingy bars that boasted live music as if she were scouting talent, attempting to study during the day while putting out various bands’ fires from afar.

“That’s wonderful, Lola,” her dad gives a contented little sigh where he and Irene are pressed together, both trying to listen to her speak.

“You’re still studying hard though, aren’t you? I’m glad you’re doing well but you know you’d regret it if you didn’t finish your course so close to the end,” Irene pointed out, and Lola assures her that she’s still going ahead strong, that the company gives her half-days when she has lectures to attend, and she sounds... fulfilled.

They’re still calling her Vito; she’s garnered herself something of a reputation in the months leading up to her graduation, and anticipated full-time employment with the company. People from all sides are urging her to move out to LA, but she’s refusing to budge until she graduates, and for that her parents are proud.

Back home, there’s been a strange influx of out-of-town patrons to the diner, music fans, or bands, or part of the industry, usually New York based, saying that Lola had recommended this place, if they were ever in the area. It was heart-warming to think she still thought of her parents so often that she’d still go about recommending their diner. They don’t think much beyond it; she’d been true to her word and only seemed to be using her way with people in professional matters.

But still, it was jarring hearing ‘the Godfather sent me’ when chatting with customers, even moreso to know they meant Lola every time.

----

“One of Bill’s friends in LA called me up about a job,” Lola’s fretting in her parent’s diner for the first time in a long time. A year out of college, she’s been on the road essentially since graduation, working as an assistant manager, for Bill for some time, then for Kenny Laguna with Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, and a few smaller bands around New York as a manager in her own right, though by virtue of her role as an assistant, she’d been working with everyone in the industry that he usually had dealings with, setting up meetings, organising schedules for the band, setting everything up so all her bosses had to do was sign off and only worry about the bands themselves.

Lola had her fair share of flings in that time, but it was hard when she was always travelling, and even with the people who she seemed somewhat serious about, she never brought them home to meet her family. Her parents tried to reason that she was just young, that if she wanted to find love, she’d find it in time, but thankfully she seemed more concerned with her career than ever dwelling on heartbreak.

“That’s exciting; would we know the band?” Irene asked, printing off a receipt for a customer and wishing them a good day. The customer smiled back, and went on their way, and Irene joined her daughter, stealing one of Lola’s fries.

“Not really, they’re a little metal, kinda punk band, Motley Crue, but Doc - that’s Bill’s friend - he thinks they have potential, and he thinks I’d be the right person to help him, and help them.”

“As an assistant?” Irene asked, frown creasing her brow, and Lola makes a face.

“As co-manager,” she said, clearly in two minds about the situation.

“Co-manager?” Her mother prompted, and Lola wrinkled her nose for a moment, taking a sip of her drink.

“I’ve been on tour, all over America, right? But I’ve never...” she hesitates, “actually ever lived more than two hours away from you guys.” Lola fidgeted, “which I know is a dumb reason to not move, I’m an adult, and everyone’s pushing me to move to LA, so even if it falls through I’ll probably still get work, but -”

“Sweet girl, you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, you don’t have to explain yourself, not to me, not to anyone,” her mother says, reaching out to rest a hand on Lola’s cheek. For just a moment, Lola leans into her mother’s hand, taking the familiar comfort and basking in it, letting out a gentle sigh.

“They’re flying me out in two days to meet the band, and I can decide where to go from there,” she says softly, and Irene gives her a fond pet, assuring her that nothing is set in stone.

----

“Do you remember when I did that thing in high school, that whole thing with those girls, Abigail and... Candice? I think? How I managed them and got them voted Prom Queen?”

“Lola I love you with my whole heart, but sweet girl, you had a whole supervillain monologue prepared that night, so yes, I remember,” Leo says to his daughter, the two of them in the kitchen of the diner the night before Lola’s set to leave for LA. They’ve closed up for the night, and Irene went upstairs to their little home above the diner to relax for the night while Lola stayed, and Leo refilled the salt shakers. The corner of Lola’s lips quirk into a faint smile where she’s leaning her hip against the counter a few feet away.

“I still can’t believe no-one caught on; only you and mom had any idea, or even still know,” Lola admitted with a faint laugh, and Leo assures her that he’ll take that secret to his grave, his tone amused at how he was overstating the importance of the secret. Lola considers for a moment, shifting her weight on her feet before asking, “do you remember, even before that, saying about how I understood people the way you understood flavours, the way mom understood numbers?”

“Vaguely,” Leo’s voice was concentrated as he reflected on his daughter’s teen years in the diner. Lola made a faint hum at that.

“Do you think there’s ever going to be anyone other than you and mom who understands me?”

It hits Leo like a truck, the tone, the rawness to her voice, the way so much had suddenly clicked into place with understanding.

Lola was who she was because she was listened to, because Leo and Irene had worked to make sure she felt understood, showing by example as they befriended their customers, the people around them too, to build a kind, family atmosphere in their business too. So too did Lola, going through life listening to people, getting to know them, understanding them, understanding more and more as she went that while people loved feeling understood, feeling seen, they very rarely put in the effort to understand others in such a way, even people who were putting the effort into them.

“Oh Keola,” Leo’s voice comes out an apologetic breath as he puts down the salt shaker he’d been working with, and at that, he can see the tears spring up in Lola’s eyes. Without hesitation, he’s crossing to her, wrapping her up in a firm hug, “you will find someone who sees you, Keola, who understands you, and maybe they won’t understand the world as well as you do, but it won’t matter, because they’ll understand you.”

Lola, who’s hugging him back tightly, fingers digging into him as she’s shaking, crying, scared to leave, scared to be truly on her own. It’s breaking Leo’s heart to see her like this, to not know what to say or how to comfort her in the right way, so he holds his daughter close, and reassures her, and she gives a quiet thanks, muffled against his shirt.

----

“They live like horrible, little, drunk rats and I hate them,” Lola tells her mother flatly over the phone from the hotel Doc McGhee’s company had put her up in for the week.

Doc she liked well enough, she’d been to events with him, gotten to know him, and spoken extensively to him after he’d called her to ask if she’d co-manage Motley Crue with him; he’d called her up because the band had talent and potential, but he could see that if they weren’t managed properly, they would end up as their own worst enemy, with the whole world loathing them. Some controversy was healthy, but it felt as though this band could be capable of worse.

He’d called asking for Vito, for the Godfather specifically, and despite Lola’s apparent lack of experience in the industry, he knew what he was doing when he called her.

The day after she’d flown out, she’d had a meeting with Doc before he’d brought the band in. She’d worn all black, well fitted and perfectly tailored suit, with black shirt to match, hair perfectly straight and makeup dark but clean. She’d looked the part, had stood beside Doc as the band was brought in, her hands clasped behind her back, not sure what she was expecting to see. The band had been dressed down for the most-part, all in varying dark colours, all denim and hints of leather, and boots that made them a little too tall for her liking. She’d held out her hand across the desk, expression stony, and as they’d all shook her hands, they’d looked her over, and while some were leering, one, who looked to be the oldest of the group, Mick, seemed unimpressed.

“That’s a child,” he had said, and Lola had blinked slowly at him, allowing Doc to make the introductions.

“That is Vito Fields;” Doc corrects, tone firm, and Mick, upon hearing this, looks to her very suddenly. Lola raises a single eyebrow at him as Doc keeps talking, “she’s worked with KISS and Joan Jett; anyone in this industry who knows of Vito knows you want her in your corner, you boys are lucky she’s considering working with you.”

“She seems like a bitch,” the one in the middle, Nikki, pipes up, his pupils wide and shiny, a dead giveaway that he’s high, and he’s smirking at her like he’s waiting for a reaction.

“I am a bitch,” Lola tells him flatly, looking him dead in the eyes, while the younger two on his other side, one dark haired, Tommy, and one blonde, Vince, startled by her response, break out into giggles.

“You’re Magic Touch Vito?” Mick asks, voice having taken on a strange quality she couldn’t quite identify, though her lips quirk into the barest smile, even as the other three clutch at each other, trying to muffle their laughs at their own dirty-minded implications.

“The very same,” Lola gave a slight nod, and suddenly, there was something impressed in Mick’s eyes. After touring with them, KISS had kindly written a song entitled Magic Touch, about Lola, which as the line ‘she's got the magic touch / oh no, but it ain't what it seems’ implied, wasn’t sexual in nature. In actual fact, it was about how they hadn’t realised how much she’d worked to make their lives run smoothly, to keep them from any serious controversy, how they’d seemingly worked more cohesively and agreeably when she had been around, until she was gone. When asked who it was about, the band would always answer ‘the chick from our management team last tour, Vito’.

They don’t quite know what to make of her, think she’s too uptight, too serious, and they invite her to their gig the following night, in an attempt to see if she could loosen up, fit in, and Lola accepts easily, knowing she has Mick on her side, and that the other three should be easy enough to win over, if what she knows of them is correct.

So she dresses up for the show, clothes tight and dark and revealing, boots high and hair higher, makeup dark and smoky and eye catching; if nothing else, she looks the part. She sits by the bar, nurses a single beer all night, and at least Doc wasn’t kidding about their talent; small miracles, she supposes. They’re loud and energetic and everything about rock and roll that she has come to love, but once the gig is over, they’re messy, spilling off the stage after their gear is packed up, easily distracted by pretty girls and promises of booze. Mick is the first to the bar, and seems surprised to see her dressed the way she is, fitting in so easily, and she gives him a smile, a nod, a raised glass of appreciation, before someone stumbles from the crowd and almost runs straight into her, bracing themselves on the bar either side of her, sweaty and panting and grinning and babbling apologies - Tommy, if her memory serves her well.

“Hey, Doc was right, you guys play well,” she tells him amicably, tone much sweeter and more animated than he’d heard yesterday, so it takes him a few moments to place where he knows her from before it dawns on him. And he’s drunk and tactile, his hands on her arms, her thighs, her face, as if making sure she was real, and she was the same girl from yesterday.

“Vito?” Tommy asks, still only inches from her where he’d almost bowled into her. Lola, seemingly unphased by the proximity, smile and confirms as much, her hand coming to rest on his where he was braced against her thigh, gentle contact, nothing more.

And he’s telling her she’d gotta come back to the after party, at the Motley House as he called it, and he turned, wanting to call the others over, still with his hand on her thigh, but they’re lost in their own various states of debauchery. Lola buys him a few shots for good measure, which he’s grateful for, and lets him loop his arm around her shoulders as they head back to the Motley House with the crowd.

Another pretty girl, however, calls Tommy away with promises Lola definitely won’t make, so he goes, and Lola follows the crowd back to the house with the door nailed shut. Her fishnets catch on something as she’s climbing through the window and they rip, and a guy hoots appreciate from inside the house, but she’s not bothered by him as much as she is by the house itself as she takes in the scene.

“No shame in admitting you can’t hack it,” a voice in her ear mutters, accompanied by a hand on her hip, and for a moment Lola’s composure breaks as she’s startled, turning sharply to see Nikki Sixx, standing over her in his platform boots and stupidly tall hair, wearing a grin that’s all teeth. Lola doesn’t know enough about Nikki to read him, to understand him, apart from the fact that she recognises that he’d putting up something of a front, and had been both times he’d spoken to her.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” tone cool as she finds herself quoting Star Wars with a smirk, she looks Nikki in the eyes, and is glad to see the momentary flicker of confusion as she refuses to back down despite his goading. Then, she looks over her shoulder, “you live like rats, but that’s not necessarily a complaint since it fits with your brand.” And he doesn’t seem to know if that’s a compliment or an insult, but he’s left bemused by the encounter, as Lola heads through to the kitchen, avoiding making eye contact with Vince who’s getting head from a groupie on the counter, as she takes a beer from their fridge and goes to mill about in the main room.

Lola’s never been much of a drinker; Irene’s been sober since she was pregnant with Lola, and Leo only ever drank socially outside of work, and he didn’t exactly have a lot of social encounters outside of work to begin with. Lola herself was never particularly discouraged from drinking as long as she took care of herself, and sure she had some wild nights in college, but despite her field of work, she preferred to keep drinking to a minimum. Drinking dulled her senses, and she didn’t want the people she was working with to see her as anything less than what she wanted to show them.

She’d be the first to admit that she had issues with control, both of herself and other people, but it was yet to detrimentally effect her life, or the people around her, so she found it to be more of a strength than a flaw, at least for now.

All through the night she found herself talking to fans and groupies, talking up the band, the boys, putting on a bubbly persona, perhaps overplaying her own inebriation after only two drinks, giggling and making a spot for herself amongst their groupies. She declined the drugs as they were passed around, keeping her mind clear as she was able, while not being a buzzkill, pouting and making up excuses about a drug test at her work the next morning, how she’d only just gotten the coke out of her system and she couldn’t fail another one -

Everyone was so understanding of her fake sob story, she almost misses Mick, sitting a few feet away on the arm of the sofa, laughing to himself, watching her.

“You’re good, girlie, you’re good,” he gives her when she approaches, and Lola raises an eyebrow at him, still smiling, “you planning on outright fuckin’ our frontman, or you gonna tease him like you did the drummer?”

“If I have to fuck him, I’ll fuck him,” Lola shrugs with a smirk, joining him and looking out at the gathered crowd, “but I don’t think it’ll come to that.”

So the next day when she calls her mother, tells her mother that the band lives like rats and that she hates them, she immediately follows it up with ‘but I think I’m going to stay’.

----

Be sweet to Tommy. Be honest with Mick. Keep Vince’s revolving door of girlfriends from seeing him hook up with groupies. That’s the trick to keeping three quarters of the band happy.

Nikki changes from moment to moment it seems. He’s a hard worker musically, but a loose canon in the rest of his life, and he never seems to be sure of what to make of Lola, so she can never be sure of what to make of him.

She still lives loosely by her mother’s suggestion, to never let them touch her, which means she’s never done anything more than let the three younger ones cop a feel occasionally, or kiss them on the cheek, but she’s never let them get further than that, she doesn’t need to. She’s kind to them, good to them, she compliments their music and their work ethic when they’re working particularly hard. She remembers the names of the hookers they like when Zutaut brings them in, and she gets on well with the rest of their team. Their scandals are kept out of the papers, and when they release Too Fast For Love there’s buzz in the industry from the moment it drops.

“I know a guy,” is all Lola says when they ask, when in reality she spends nights that she’s not with the band going to VIP events for music executives, rubbing elbows and kissing ass and casually talking up the band within earshot of the bigwigs. Her free time in the day is spent reading tabloids and listening to the bands being managed by the people she meets, and making friends with club owners up and down The Strip who she’d met before, through KISS or Joan Jett.

“Sweet baby Vito,” Doug Weston kissed Lola on both cheeks as she walked through the doors of the Troubadour one sunny afternoon, the day the band was set to perform, “it’s been too long; have you gotten taller?” Doug smiles from ear to ear, holding her shoulders and looking her over as the band, behind her, seems bemused, “how are my boys, Bill and Kenny? You hear from them much anymore?”

“Dad tells me Bill is good -” Lola assures with a smile, before looking over her shoulder, “boys if you wanna start setting up you can go ahead, right Doug?” She grins at the club owner, who nods, gesturing to the stage for Motley and their roadie to go ahead as he takes Lola and leads her to the bar.

Lola seems to have an encyclopaedic knowledge of the bands who have come through the Troubadour before they’d made it big, praising Doug on his foresight, assuring him that Motley would be one of the names on that list he helped grow in popularity. He asks her how she knows so much, how she remembers so well; simply put, Lola tells him it’s her job.

For a moment, Doug is quiet, looking at her, his eyes searching her face for any hint of insincerity or doubt, and upon finding none, he gives a strange little smile.

“You know what they say about me, little Vito, don’t you?”

Lola hesitates, because of course she knows, and him so pointedly using her nickname only makes clearer his meaning.

“You’re essentially the Godfather around here, Doug, I know that, I wasn’t trying to -”

“You’re putting the work in; I’ve heard your name time and again now from my friends and colleagues, you’re working with one band but the whole Strip knows you, kiddo,” he’s giving her a fond, perhaps even impressed look, “little Vito, you’re so young, but I can already see you growing into your title.”

And pride swells in Lola’s chest as she hears this.

A week later, a tabloid article will be released with an article on Motley Crue’s quick rise in sucess, with a quote from Doug himself.

“How could I say no to having them play here? Those boys have got more talent in one hand than any do in their whole bodies, not to mention they’ve got Doc and The Godfather behind them; mark my words there’s success on their horizon.”

“Lola!” Leo had shouted excitedly through the phone the moment she’d picked up, and Lola had laughed nervously, unsure of the exactly reason for his call. Leo had babbled about seeing the article, how he’d pinned it up on the wall of the diner, right next to the photos of KISS, and Joan Jett that had been taken when they’d visited. He goes on in delight about how he and Irene were so proud; Lola couldn’t help but tear up.

“Doug Weston called you The Godfather, Lola!”

“I know, dad,” Lola had laughed a little, and Leo had whistled through his teeth, low and proud.

“What did I tell you, kiddo, already taking the world by storm.”

----

“You know how I was... I was like having trouble with Nikki? Like I could figure him out?” Lola brings up over the phone to her father, a few month into being in LA.

“Nikki’s the asshole one?”

“The asshole one, the one you’d like,” Lola clarifies and confirms, and Leo makes an understanding noise in the back of his throat, “I think... I think I’ve figured him out, I think I got him.”

“How so?”

“He, um,” Lola hesitates for a moment, shifting a little where she was sitting on her bed, “he’s actually kind of like me, which I think tripped me up, not like, as refined or anything, or as invested in people, but,” she can’t help but softly smile, “he just wants to be seen, you know, as a musician, as himself, except that things have been shitty for him so he’s actually scared to feel seen, you know?”

“So are you going to make him feel seen, or would that scare him?” Leo asks, and Lola tells him that she’s going to be careful, like she’s always been.

She’s already started; a few days before, she’d turned up to the studio only for a beleaguered assistant to nervously warn her that Nikki had been in there all night, drinking, snorting, and writing music frantically.

“Sixx?” Her voice had been quiet, and he’d looked up with wild, tired eyes, levelling a pen at her through the glass into the sound booth where she’d entered.

“You!”

“Me?” She gave a slight smile, despite how there was paper and broken glass everywhere, and one of his hands was bleeding.

“You!” He’d reiterated with a scowl, though Lola kept her approach slow, opening the door to the recording studio, carefully picking her way over to him, while he continued to point at her.

“What are you writing?” She asks carefully, and finally he looks down, to the page with it’s bloody fingerprints, and messy scribblings.

“What do you want from me?” He asked, and she’s wondering if he’s talking to the page before he looks back at her, confused and hostile as he regards her. Lola’s expression falls.

“Right now? I want you to come to the bathroom so I can clean you up and get you some medical attention -”

“You want something you always want something, you know too much about everyone we meet, everywhere we play, every photographer who shoots us, every writer who writes about us, every interviewer we speak to,” he sounds half-mad, but Lola’s blood has run cold, “it’s like the more you know about everyone, about us, you can predict us, can plan for if we go rogue, how you can lasso us back in line like we’re your cattle; you’re The Godfather but you never explained to us what that means.”

Lola swallows hard, steeling herself for a moment before she looks Nikki in the eyes.

“What do you want from music?” She’s dropped the kindly voice, “you understand it, you understand how to make it sound good, how to make something people will like and want to listen to, and you know what to do to keep it from being a disaster because you know the note before, and what notes should go after,” she explained, and in the face of her cool composure, Nikki’s hostility was actually... disappearing. “To me, people are their own kind of music when organised well enough, when I know where they’ve been, so I know how to keep them out of disaster, which topics not to talk about, to know what’s worked to bring things to their attention in the past, so I can use those for you guys in the future.”

Nikki is quiet, looking up at where she’s standing over him, and then at the paper in his hands.

“You’re organising us to... to what?”

“To optimise productivity,” Lola said bluntly, “which is hard, considering who you all are, but I’m glad Doc called me in. I feed your egos in the way you all respond to best, and keep you all from self destructing, and I pull you assholes from the gutter, and you get a successful album. I’m not hurting anyone, it’s my job to make you successful.”

She’s got her hands behind her back to hide how they’re shaking; she’s never been so bluntly honest with anyone since she’d explained her Prom Plan to her parents years ago.

“You won’t remember this,” she tells him, and he looks sharply at her, though she’s saying it more for her own peace of mind than for him. She offers her hand to him, and he quietly takes it, lets her take him to the bathroom and clean him up. She calls the Motley House, and Mick, and Doc, and lets them know that Nikki wouldn’t be in today, and she takes him back to her little apartment a few blocks from the Strip.

“This is tiny,” Nikki comments, his first since Lola’s monologue about her true intentions.

“I’m frugal,” Lola responded, flatly, showing him through to her bathroom, advising him to shower or bathe, though he made a face at that.

“Why am I here?”

“Because I have actual toilet paper and I didn’t want your hands to contract sepsis,” she responds with irritation, but soon enough, as she’s reading through the stack of tabloids that she has delivered daily, she hears the shower being turned on.

After an hour, she realises something may be wrong, as she hasn’t heard him moving about in there for a while, and when she knocks there’s no answer, and cracking the door reveals that he’s fallen asleep sitting at the bottom of her shower. Sighing deeply, Lola turns off the water, tries to wake him, and gets a sleepy, groaned response, which at the very least means she doesn’t need to call a paramedic. So she dries him off, and wraps him up in her bathrobe, and deposits him in her bed, while she listens to the radio and takes notes while reading the tabloids.

“Vito?” Nikki’s bleary voice greets her around sunset, and Lola, who’d been painting her nails and humming along to a cassette of the latest Queen album, looks up sharply at him. When their gazes meet, he regards her curiously before yawning, “I remember, you know?”

“Remember what?”

“What you said, how you use people because they’re like music,” he says, and grimaces when he tries to use his hands, only to see they’re bandaged. When he asks for a drink, Lola has to tell him she has nothing in the apartment, and he calls her a bitch under his breath, but that was to be expected.

“I don’t use people for fun, I... I...”

“There’s no sweet way to say it, is there?” He sits up with a groan, though he still manages to smirk, and Lola’s expression sours.

“Are you mad at me for manipulating people in the industry to make Motley Crue successful?” Her lip curled, tone derisive as an insult sat on the tip of her tongue, but Nikki paused.

“Are you trying to manipulate me by saying that?”

“What? No!” Lola had insisted, “everyone else thinks I’m the version of me that I want them to know, okay? But you... you’re the only motherfucker who knows I’m all of them at once, and also, well, none of them,” she admitted after a moment.

“Well how does me knowing that help you?”

“It doesn’t, okay?! I can’t figure you out, Nikki, I don’t know how the fuck to -”

“How the fuck to control me,” Nikki said, seemingly proud of that achievement.

“I don’t control you dumbasses, I keep you out of jail; if I wanted to control you, I’d try keeping you from hookers and drugs and falling asleep in gutters, I’d make you presentable for a mass-market audience, but none of you want that, so I’m trying to keep you alive and keep you productive while still being yourselves, get it?”

“You really want Motley to do well?” Nikki asks, tentatively, surprising Lola, who had her head in her hands.

“You fuckin’ dickbags have so much talent and absolutely no ability to function as human beings. Yes I want you to do well, I know you can, and I know you will, but dude, if you all go out in a firey ball of carnage, they’re not gonna blame you guys, because you’re the talent, live fast die young is what talent does, and they’re not gonna blame Doc,” her voice catches in her throat, and Nikki realises she’s on the verge of tears, “they’re gonna blame the twenty-three year old girl who everyone in the industry knows, and is calling The Godfather, who has a reputation despite only doing this shit for a few years -”

“Vito -”

“My name’s Lola!” She’d snapped, and Nikki had gone quiet. “You’re a talented musician, Nikki,” her voice had gone soft, and she gently thumped her forehead on the table, “you’re all talented men, I’m just doing the only thing I can do to get you the success you deserve, okay? I made a promise to never manipulate people for evil, and I don’t break my promises.”

After a long silence, Nikki finally spoke up, saying her name, her real name.

“Lola, thanks for taking care of me.”

----

“So this is Motley Crue,” Leo says the day Lola walks into the diner with the band and Doc, and Leo’s trying to reign in his instinct to be excited and proud and loud, trying to act discerning from behind the counter... Right as their Too Fast For Love album begins playing over the jukebox. The band seems confused, Lola hangs her head, and Leo’s lips immediately twist into an overjoyed grin, “that wasn’t planned but I love it!” He delights, and goes over to greet the band, giving each member a hearty handshake, managing to name each and every single one of them before they introduce themselves, which only serves to mortify Lola.

“You talk about us?” Tommy teases, while Lola’s standing by her father, face bright red.

“Drummer Boy, you’re killing me,” Lola groans, but takes her seat beside Nikki, and he throws an arm around her.

“Don’t worry, Leo, we’re taking care of her,” and he gives Lola’s shoulder a squeeze.

The thing is, Leo knows he can believe Nikki, knows because after a year, Lola’s told her parents practically everything about the band, every terrible, sordid detail, but also about their talent, and how they can be good people when they want to be. Leo and Irene have hear the change in the way Lola spoke about the band, heard Lola marvel at the way the band seemed to grow more protective of her after her breakdown in front of Nikki, how they defend her when they’re in their right mind, and at least attempt to listen to her some of the time. They’re still themselves, still far from perfect, but it’s become a known fact that The Godfather had the might of Motley Crue behind her now.

Mick and Leo got along well, of course Leo got along with all the band well, but he and Mick’s taste in music aligned, and there was a certain wisdom to the pair of them that eluded the others.

And when Lola hands tickets to the band��s show the following night to her mother, she assured her that it wasn’t their idea, it was all Lola’s. Irene wraps her in a tight hug, pride in her eyes, before she looks over at the band, louging in a booth like they own it while the diner was meant to have closed twenty minutes ago, and Leo’s still talking to them. It’s empty apart from the band, and Lola’s about to start washing up so her dad can keep getting to know the band, but her mother speaks quietly.

“They’re good boys,” she muses, and Lola snorts.

“They’re garbage boys, ma, pretty terrible, you know they fucked an eggroll so their girlfriends couldn’t tell they slept with other girls?”

“Oh I know they’re terrible - eggroll, really? -” Irene made a momentarily horrified face as Lola confirmed, but as a shiver of disgust passed down Irene’s spine, she continued, “but they’re good to you.”

And looking at them, Lola sees the band and Doc smiling and laughing and chatting with her dad, picking at the crumbs they had left of the food they’d been served, and for a moment, Nikki looks over and catches her gaze. He raises an eyebrow at her, a silent question; Lola gives the barest nod back, and he turns back to the conversation.

“They’re pretty good to me when they want to be,” Lola agreed.

----

“Lo, we wanted to run this past you first,” immediately hearing these words from her father, Lola’s stomach drops, “but you remember your Aunt Malia who lives back in Hawaii, right?” And as Lola confirmed as much, Leo went on, “her youngest, Kai, is going to come and live at the diner; he’s about your age and Malia says he’s wanted to be a chef for a long time. I thought he could come work with us, or maybe stay here if he wanted to study in the states.”

“Why do you need to run it past me?” Lola asked, voice quiet, though her heart eased considerably; the news had been much less dire than she had been anticipating.

“He’s going to be sleeping in your old room is all, I know you’ve moved everything out, but I didn’t want you to be surprised if you dropped in; when you stop by, we’ve converted the old study into a spare bedroom.”

“Okay,” Lola wasn’t quite sure why the news hurt so much, but it did, though she tried not to let her father hear as much, “as long as he does a good job, that’s all we can ask for, right?” And Leo seemed happy to hear as much.

But it had sent Lola spiralling; all her life she’d thought she’d end up running the diner when she got old enough, but now she was getting to be old enough, and living a completely different life.

“Would it make you happy?” When had coming to Nikki Sixx for life advice become a real option? They’re sitting in a round booth at a bar, both dressed casually, sitting side by side, probably closer than was necessary, though Lola liked the contact.

“Yes,” she admitted, “if I went home and ran the diner with mom and dad for the rest of my life, I’d honestly be happy.” She admitted.

“And us, the industry, everything you’ve been working for, you’d give it all up for them?” He asked, and Lola picked at the label on her beer bottle, stomach twisting with guilt.

“If they asked,” came her answer.

“Did they ask?”

Lola swallows hard, and realises with startling clarity that Nikki knows where her train of thought is headed.

“Does the life you have here make you happy?” He asks, tone demanding an honest answer, and Lola nods once, before his final question hits her squarely in the chest; “would they want you to give up this happiness you’ve built, the experiences you’re still yet to have, for them?”

He understands her.

“And if I asked, would you stay here and manage us?”

“What?” Lola’s voice came out soft and surprised as she looked to Nikki, her eyes wide, and a little misty with all the emotions and thoughts blurring together in her mind.

“If I get any sort of say or vote in this, I’d like to keep The Godfather on my team,” he muses, grin getting a little wider, tone a little more honest, “‘d like to keep you around, Lola.”

----

Kai vaults the counter the first time Lola walks into the diner after he arrives. It’s been a few months, Lola’s been overseas with the band, but she’s back, and had wanted to stop in home to see how he was going. They’d spoken often; he’s as kind and outgoing as her father, and seems just as enthusiastic about food, which is good. At first there had been jealousy, that he was there, while she couldn’t be, but her parents always assured her there was a place for her if she wanted it, if she wanted to come back.

But Nikki had been right, they wanted her to see the world, so long as she knew they’d always be there for her to come home to.

But it’s Summer, Saturday afternoon, and Kai looks up as the bell rings, spots Lola, and drops the napkin dispenser he’d been refilling, vaulting the counter to sweep her off her feet in a hug. He’s chattering away about how good it is to meet her, how people keep saying the Godfather sent them and how it’s weird knowing they mean her, about how a few more bands had come through, without Lola even, word of mouth having spread that this was the place to come to in Boston, and he gestures proudly to the wall of photographs, and how more had been added; Areosmith, the Pixies, Blondie.

“And you! You’re -” suddenly spotting the person who’d come in behind Lola, Kai’s eyes go wide and his words stop for a moment.

“Nikki Sixx, man, good to meet you,” Nikki grins brightly, “Kai, right?” And Kai nods, before blinking away his shock and nodding, shaking Nikki’s hand vigerously.

“Good to meet you, dude, lemme go get Aunty; Leo’s at the markets,” he says, and then he trots off, calling out to the kitchen staff where he was headed. The moment he’s disappeared up the stairs to the flat above, Lola leans into Nikki, huffing a laugh.

“God, he fits right in,” she muses fondly, and Nikki wraps an arm around her, himself trying to process Kai’s enthusiasm.

And Irene greets Nikki and Lola with warmth and excitement, the three of them sitting in a booth together while Kai goes through any changes to the menu, lighting up when Lola asks what he recommends. Nikki and Lola sit close as they chatter away, recounting stories to Irene about their travels, words flowing together like they were rehearsed; as Lola’s overcome with a fit of giggles recounting one of Nikki and Tommy’s stunts, Nikki wraps his arm around her, pulling her close as he seamlessly takes over the story, grinning from ear to ear. As Lola’s giggles subside, she looks back to her mother, and Nikki’s voice goes quiet as Lola takes back over telling the story, instinctually in sync, and oh, Irene realises fondly, they understand each other. Despite everything she’s heard about the band, about Nikki, she’s filled with an indescribably sense of calm knowing Nikki made Lola this happy, made her feel understood. She’d be here if he broke Lola’s heart, but until then, she’d be happy for them.

“Lola!” It’s Leo’s voice that interupts them, and instinctively Irene reminds him that he’s holding eggs, without even needing to look at him. When they all do, they see Kai handing Leo an empty, plastic fries basket for him to drop in surprise instead, and he does so, which makes Lola laugh, even though she’s tearing up at the sight of him.

Nikki relaxes his grip on her shoulders without her needing to ask, and she ran to Leo, jumping to wrap him in a koala hug as he anticipated as much, holding her tight.

“If you guys ever wanted her back here to stay, you know she’d be more than happy to do it, I don’t know how you guys did it, but she loves you more than anything else in the whole world,” Nikki says quietly to Irene, the pair of them watching Lola and Leo, still hugging, with Lola koala-ed onto her father, talking to each other.

“She’s lucky to have Leo,” Irene said softly, “and so am I,” she admits easily, with a smile, “we both just wanted to give her the world, and if that, for her, means taking over the diner, then she’ll always have a place here, but if she wants more than that, if for her the world is the world, we’ll do everything in our power to help her get it,” she paused, before her smile turns amused; the expression looks so much like Lola’s, “but I suspect she doesn’t need our help with that.”

“And Nikki,” Irene turns to him, to look him in the eyes, and he knows that she knows every terrible thing Lola knows about him, but the thing is, he trusts Lola, and Lola loves and trusts her parents more than anything in the world, so if she’s trusted them with his dirty laundry and they still treat him kindly, he knows he has nothing to fear, “as long as you love her and treat her well, you’ll have us in your corner too.”

----

In 2005, it seems as though everyone in the entertainment industry knows about Boston’s famous Lionheart Diner, renamed in the mid-90s to coincide with the official forming of Lionheart Talent Management in LA, a label that would develop a reputation for finding talented underground acts, and making them huge.

Over the years, it had become a tradition for touring rock groups to visit the diner, claiming The Godfather sent them, even if Lola had never interacted with the band. As time wore on, bands outside of the rock genre caught on to the tradition, and soon even those from film or television or even art had joined the tradition too.

The business was booming, it had become a spot for tourists to come take photos against the wall of famous band photos, and people would often stop by on the off chance that someone famous would be around. They’d invested in selling shirts, plain black with the Lionheart logo over the left breast, and the word ‘crew’ printed in all capitals in white across the back.

The heart of the business remained, with Leo, seventy-one and still spry, as Sous Chef, while Kai had stepped up as head chef. One of the benefits of being part-owned by a successful management company was that Irene was able to retire, as Lola’s in-house accountants took care of the diner’s finances, and her little sixty-nine year-old mother could spend her time relaxing, or playing with her grandchildren.

In 2005, Lola went home in anticipation of a letter she hoped her parents would be receiving, taking Nikki, their son, and her entire rolodex of industry contacts with her.

In 2005, Lola and her family are awoken by a legitimate yell sounding through the little flat above the diner; it’s Leo, he’s excited and nervous and panicking, and Lola’s rubbing sleep from her eyes as she finds him, alongside her mother, sitting at the kitchen table, looking at a pristine, off-white envelope.

“We should wait for Kai, we have to call him, we have to call him now,” Leo’s chattering away, already up, and when Lola sits at the table, Irene hands her the bulky envelope before she even has to ask.

The return address was the Michelin Offices in Paris.

Lola’s smile grows wider.

The kitchen is eerily silent, apart from Lola’s son Mal moving about the kitchen, making himself cereal, as all the adults wait quietly for Kai to arrive with his own wife and baby daughters.

“I heard they were... were coming to America, but I thought it was only New York,” Leo looked so much younger for his nervous excitement, and once Kai had sat down and realised what it was, Lola pushed the envelope towards her father.

With shaking hands, Leo opens the letter, he and Kai reading the congratulations that had been sent to them, the praise for their food, their plating, their atmosphere and service. Leo’s crying, his hand pressed to his mouth, he’s crying, and Lola can feel the tears in her eyes too.

“They gave us two stars,” he chokes out, pride in his voice, “two whole Michelin Stars, the only restaurant outside of New York,” he’s sniffling as he lets Kai take the letter, pulling the book from the package, thumbing through it, and bursting into tears, the book in a white-knuckled grip as a lifetime of work is finally granted the recognition it deserved.

“Two stars; excellent cooking, worth a detour,” Kai was crying too, his pride overwhelming him, and it seemed, all other at the table, aside from Nikki, and Kai’s wife Julia.

Lola spends the next week organising a party, calling everyone and anyone to invite them to Leo’s, promising her father the night off to celebrate, but he waved her off, so long as she would work by his side for the night. Of course she agreed.

It was a star-studded event, surprising the locals, with Lola calling her contacts who loved the restaurant, and Leo and Irene and Kai calling old regulars they wanted to celebrate with, everyone who heard the news was delighted, knew it was well earned, and cheered as Leo unveiled the new sign with the Michelin Stars on full display.

“Thirty years ago,” Lola makes a toast, and the room falls silent, all looking at her on this night of mirth and merry, on this night of celebrating Leo and Irene and their family and their staff, “I claimed that the Michelin Star Inspectors were classicist, bitch-ass jagweeds, who hadn’t given the diner a star because they couldn’t even be bothered making the detour it was worth,” and that got a laugh to rise from the crowd, while Leo’s surprised Lola remembers that, hell, he’s surprised he remembers that, “but they’ve finally come to America; they said they were coming to New York, but you know what- you know fucking what? They made the detour! Because they’d heard this place was worth it! They knew what my parents built, what everyone here still upholds, it’s world class, it’s excellent cooking, it’s worth the detour!” And a cheer rises from the crowd, just as the diner deserves.

But something about it sticks for Leo, something about it is familiar, perhaps it’s just the way Lola’s smiling, but he asks for a word with her, and she agrees easily. She’s not his little girl anymore, neither of them as young as they once were, but they sit on the back step of the diner, the door shut, the celebrations inside muffled.

After a long while, Leo looks to Lola and gives her a fond little smile.

“I’ve really raised a supervillain, haven’t I?” And Lola acts confused for all of two minutes before she gives up the ruse, grinning like she’d been caught red-handed.

“Hey, if this place didn’t deserve any Michelin Stars, it wouldn’t get any; I just wanted to get the word out there so people would know where to look,” she shrugged, and Leo threw an arm around her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“How long were you planning this?”

“That day in the diner when we talked about my future, and I said this place deserved a Michelin Star,” she admitted, and Leo’s eyes went wide, realising just why she’d remembered that day so well during her speech.

“Your thirty year plan?”

“I didn’t know when they’d come to America, honestly I think you guys would have still had enough notoriety to warrant someone coming to check this place out fifteen years ago,” she mused, “but like I said, it’s because this is a good diner, dad, I only brought it to their attention.”

“Lola, this is you life -” he tried with concern, though Lola rested her head on his shoulder, cutting him off with reassurances.

“I love my job, I love the life that I have, and the people in it, and it just so happened that the thing that I’m good at and do professionally means I have some influence; I promised I’d only use my powers for good, and this is the good-est thing I could think of,” she ducks her head, to hide her teary eyes, so glad that finally her family, her father, got their deserved recognition.

“All for your lil’ old family,” Leo gave a watery chuckle, overwhelmed with pride.

“All for my lil’ old family,” Lola agreed, sniffling, and Leo pulled her into a tight hug, so Lola’s next words were muffled against his chest, “come on, dude, be cool.”

“You made the whole world love us because how much you love us, I will not be cool,” Leo held her tighter, and Lola laughed softly, wanting this moment to last forever if it could, “you were never a supervillain, sweet girl, you’ve always been my hero.”

#rtp #nikki sixx #nikki x lola #tommy lee #mick mars #Doc McGhee #vince neil #kiss band #the angry lizard writes

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kooala · 4 years ago

Text

once you realize - chapter two

USERNAME CHANGE!!

!!used to be kookie-off-his-kookie but now it’s kooala!!

A/N: I’m so sorry it has taken me forever to upload the second chapter but between no wifi at the new place and my apartment having all sorts of issues at the moment it really took longer than I expected! Thank you for sticking around though and I hope you enjoy the second chapter! xx

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x his girlfriend Mina, Jaebeom!

Tags: best friend! Jungkook, idol verse, friends to lovers!

Genre: angst, fluff, mutual pining, basically the cutest falling in love story

Wordcount: 6.3k

Warnings: language! flirting! nudity but not really, just bare legs

Parts: chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four / chapter five / chapter six / chapter seven

Summary: Not seeing Jungkook for a while had made you feel like what had happened was only a blur and you were imagining all of it. But apparently it wasn’t a blur for Jungkook and when all of you went out for a couple of drinks and you got too comfortable with someone that wasn’t Jungkook, he couldn’t help but feel his heart sink into a deep pit in his stomach.

masterlist

M Countdown had been one of the events you always looked forward to the most. The preparation that went into the choreography and stages beforehand was intense, but ultimately nothing was more rewarding than presenting a comeback stage and feeling like you were able to show what all of you had been working so hard towards. The entire vibe that was going on backstage, seeing other artists perform and getting inspiration was wonderful and as you were waiting to perform backstage, you couldn’t help but stare at the screens as BTS did their comeback performance for their new single. It had been a while since you had fallen asleep on Jungkook’s bed, and seeing him on stage like this, you were amazed by how much his features along with his look and attitude had changed over those couple of weeks since you had seen him last. You’ve seen Jungkook and the boys perform countless times before but something about their new album concept and his ability to effortlessly hit those high notes even during a live taping seemed to make you feel like you were standing right in the crowd with army, screaming and rooting for their meticulous performance. They really managed to reinvent themselves over and over again and Mina standing next to you, staring at the screen, seemed to have the same thoughts. “Can’t believe they did it again.”, she mumbled and you could only chuckle at her expression, watching Taehyung with his newly permed hair. “I think you’re drooling.”, you smirked a little.

Taking position behind one of the probs on the side, you felt your nerves kicking in big time and as you looked up and saw Jungkook standing on the opposite side of the stage. He was standing right behind the big scaffolding looking at you and you couldn’t help but crack a smile. He had a cocky smirk on his face and nodding towards you he mouthed a “good luck!”. You nodded with a smile and saw Taehyung pop up next to him, resting an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. He had always been a ladies man but Tae around Mina was more than anyone could handle. As you were just about to turn your head away to not interrupt their long distance, lovey-dovey moment, you caught Jungkook checking you up and down once, seemingly looking at the outfit you were wearing. You along with the other girls in the band had always hated the little costumes they put you in for shows and concerts and now that you managed to box through your new concept which was a little more straight forward and edgy, you felt more than comfortable in your cargo pants and combat boots outfit, feeling like the bad ass video game character you wish you were. This had been one of those moments you simply couldn’t just let slide so with a smirk on your face, you did a little dance while turning around, letting him know you caught him right in the act of staring. Jungkook seemed to laugh and with a shy smile, he scratched the back of his neck, looking down to the floor. Something about that was satisfying to you and with an equally as big smile, you simply left it at that, looking down yourself. You only now realized how cute Jungkook was when he got really shy and thinking about it seconds before going up on stage, letting it cloud your mind, may not be the best move.

The new concept was the first time you guys had a proper rap part and a completely different concept and for the very first time since your debut you felt like this may be something where people would finally take you serious as artists, not only seeing the girls jumping around in little skirts. You were nervous to see what Jungkook and the fans would say now that the new concept was so different. After coming off stage, completely out of breath from the performance you started chugging down the water bottle that was handed to you by one of the staff.

“That was really… really good.”, Tae mumbled towards Mina who had a safe distance between both of them since their relationship wasn’t confirmed and official yet or for that matter – allowed. “I really like your new concept.”, you started talking to Jungkook. “Your singing has always been great but this timed it’s insane, you did so well.”, you smiled, drying your neck with one of the towels and Jungkook smiled down to you, nodding. He still felt a little confused about your performance and what it had done to him because it wasn’t what he had expected. It definitely was more mature and straight forward but something about it made him feel guilty for enjoying all of you dancing the way you had. He wasn’t supposed to see you that way - rolling your hips wasn’t part of the friendship, was it? His inner urge to suppress the fact that he seemed to be crushing on you even more after that performance, made him feel really shy. He felt like he could get caught for his feelings towards you and his ears started turning pinkish. But what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t help the fact that you looked like one of the characters from his computer game with that little t-shirt and combat boots. It was bad ass and he hated to admit it but he was kind of here for it.

“Are you okay?”, you asked after a moment of him not responding. He seemed to be far off with his thoughts, looking past or through you and only as you called him out for it, he slowly seemed to turn his face towards you again, catching his thoughts. “Yea, sorry.”, he laughed, putting both his hands in his pants pocket nervously. “I really liked it. It looks like you finally managed to perform what you guys wanted to perform for a long time now, the song and concept and all. It suited you guys.” He made sure to include Mina and the others in the conversation as he spoke and with a smile you nodded, thankful he appreciated your hard work. He would’ve told you if he didn’t like it, you knew that. “Also, kind of bad ass you had one of the rap parts.” He nudged your shoe with his a bit and smirked at you. You blurred out what Mina replied to him and just stared at him for a moment. “Bad ass, hm?” Raising your eyebrows you smiled up towards him. “I thought that’s just my brand? Always on the bad ass side of things, you know?”, you teased him quietly with a smile cracking in the corner of your mouth. You still felt the adrenalin from performing and you knew you had to tone down the upfront conversation you were having with him. Watching a figure climb up the stairs on the side you saw one of the staff members scolding you for blocking the way right beside the stage and with a nod and small bow, all of you excused yourselves. “See you.”, you said watching him as he looked over his shoulder while walking down the hallway into the opposite direction. “Bye, noona.”, he replied with a cocky smile on his face before turning around and disappearing in one of the hallways. “Did… he just…?”, Mina asked confused as you stared into the now empty hallway. “Yea… I think he did.”

Arriving back home after all the excitement, you felt absolutely exhausted from the long day. It had been a couple of exhausting weeks and the only thing you wanted to do is to shower and get into a comfy sweater, ready to just order in food and catch up with some cheesy tv dramas. The shower felt like the greatest thing in the world and once you put on that sweater you felt like you were ready to calm down. Preparing an event like this on top of keeping up with your regular schedule had been exhausting and as you dropped onto your bed you couldn’t help but check if the performance had already been uploaded to YouTube. There was always room for improvement. Hearing a soft knock on the door you pushed yourself off of your bed, only to open the door to someone you really hadn’t expected, especially not this time of night. “Hi… “, you chuckle, confused to see Jungkook’s smiley, soft face in the doorframe. Having visitors, let alone male ones, was prohibited at the dorm so seeing his face wasn’t what you expected. “Sorry for just randomly coming over but I really needed to see someone and hang out tonight. And not just six dudes that know everything better anyway.”, Jungkook chuckled quietly and his soft smile made your cheeks feel hot immediately. Now was the moment you regretted your grubby outfit. “If you managed to get that far without being stopped, how could I deny you.”, you joke, opening the door to your room more so he could come in. Trying to run your fingers through your hair you closed the door behind him. You felt a little awkward because he’d never seen you bare and not made up. You watched him carefully as he took a look around the room, taking in the details since he had never been here. He was smiling at the polaroid pictures you had stuck into the frame of the mirror to be able to look at them every day when you got ready. Embarrassing enough you had to admit to yourself, that there were a lot of Jungkook polaroid’s both of you had taken together.

“But seriously, how did you manage to get past everyone?”, you asked nosy, taking a seat on your bed. You watched him as he was scanning the room while he was walking around. “I told them I needed a good friend because I’m not feeling well.”, he chuckled a bit as he looked over to you. He started laughing even more at your confused expression. “Well, are you not feeling well? Do you want to talk about it?”, you sat up a little more straight, watching his every move to make sure you weren’t missing any signs of him lying about how he felt. Jungkook was never the one to dive deep into emotional conversation. Quite the opposite actually, he was a master of keeping how he felt hidden. “I’m not… bad. Just… confused maybe.” He took a deep breath, putting your picture frame with the picture of you and your friend back on the shelf and pulled in the chair from your desk to sit on it. He put his hands in his sweater pocket and just looked at you for a long moment. Jungkook was wearing big sweats and a massive sweater, looking like he had just crawled out of bed himself to come over and see you. You crossed your legs on your bed, looking over to him, waiting for him to start talking. All he did was stare at you though, smiling and as he looked away he scanned the room again. That little moment of him looking away and the smirk that had followed, made your stomach feel all fluttery and soft. You couldn’t help but stare at his hair, looking like he had just showered earlier, making them look un-styled and fluffy, perfect to run your hands through them. Trying to collect your thoughts before you ended up walking over to just run your fingers through his hair, you tried to pick the conversation back up.

“Confused about what?”, you ended up breaking the long silence after a while and Jungkook turned his head back over to face you. It had been a while since both of you had ‘unintentionally’ cuddled while watching the movies and after all that time had passed it somehow felt like you had interpreted way too much into it - as if it never really happened, almost like a blurred dream. “Let’s not talk about depressing things.”, he shrugged it off and sat up straight, stroking his hair back. “Want to do something?”, he added. “Well technically I was about to get ready to order… “, you laugh and he nodded, scooting over to put his feet on your bed. “Let’s order then and do exactly what we did last time.”, he chuckled and you couldn’t help but wonder if he chose those exact words because he wanted to point out he enjoyed the cuddling or if it was mere coincidence and you were the one overreacting.

About twenty minutes later, both of you ended up sitting outside on the roof terrace, unpacking the food delivery that had just arrived. Although it seemed difficult to enjoy a mild spring night out on a balcony in the middle of Seoul, it always fascinated you how beautiful this city could be at night. Opening your soup, you grabbed the little extra packs with the spring onion and chili paste before putting it all in and stirring through it. “So as soon as we got back after the show, Tae told all of us that he was officially in a relationship now and asked the Hyung’s and management for permission.”, Jungkook mentioned, trying to sound casual but you could tell that this was exactly what had been bothering him. You took a few moments to carefully think about how to approach this. “And how did it go?” Grabbing some of your noodles you started eating and watched him as he stirred through his Bibimbap in thoughts, his thoughts seemingly somewhere far away. “Well we’re all okay with it and happy for him, obviously had to talk about how to keep things on the down-low and all that but it was nice. He seemed super happy… ”, he trailed off quietly. “But it made you feel shitty.” You went broad with that statement because it was very personal to make an assumption like that about someone, no matter how close you were. Jungkook looked up at you, flickering his gaze over your face for a moment, only replying with a nod. “Listen… I know it’s not ideal right now with almost all of them in a relationship but I’m sure you’ll find someone you want to tell the guys about.” You smile over at him, trying to encourage him but talking about the possibility of him introducing someone else as his girlfriend to you, made your stomach drop. He looked back down into his food, stirring around some more before eating a spoon full, not replying to your statement and although you really wanted to push it, you felt like silence would be best for now.

Debating on whether or not you should tell him about a date you had a couple of weeks ago which turned out to be nothing more so far anyway, you watched the skyline for a while. It was one of those things you really wanted to talk to your best friend about but at the same time, you knew that you just wanted to see his honest reaction. What scared you was the fact that it may hurt him. “I was out with a guy last month… “, you started before slurping some more of your noodles and the way his head shot up, almost an expression of pure panic on his face, made you already regret your decision. Maybe you shouldn’t talk to guys about other guys. “And thinking about all of this, it made me realize that I really do know how you feel. Alone and all.”, you nodded and smiled over to make him feel a little bit better about the statement. “Who was it?”, he pressed. “I’m not going to tell you because you know him. It wasn’t a bad date… but what’s the point in going out with someone when you know you like someone else? Already regret leading him on.” Almost choking at the honesty of your own words, you open your soda can and look out over Seoul, listening to the absolute silence following all of those bombs you had just dropped on the dinner table. “You like someone?”, he asked hesitantly after a while and looking back over to him you could see the realization seemed to hurt him although he was trying hard to not let it show. “I think I do. Just a bit… confusing to be honest.”, you picked up his statement from earlier, really hoping it was aimed at you and that he got what you were trying to hint at. You really hoped you weren’t making a fool out of yourself right now. A little smile cracked in the corner of his mouth, dropping immediately though as he was trying to compose himself.

Stirring the conversation into safer territory, both of you ended up talking about the performance and the award show, revisiting all the fun things that had happened. It had made it much easier to talk to him again and the heavy tension of unspoken words seemed to disappear throughout the conversation. After finishing all the food you cleaned up before heading back to your room, getting ready for a quiet night in and you couldn’t help but feel excited for the possibility of cuddles. “Are you going to stay a little longer?”, you asked, picking up some of the clothes on the floor and throwing them in the laundry basket to not make it look too messy. In that second the door burst open without a warning and Mina stared at both of you standing in the room like a deer in headlights. “Are you mental? Heard of knocking?!”, you asked loud and she laughed, no sign of remorse whatsoever on her face but her expression changed when she saw Jungkook standing in the corner of the room, looking at her just as shocked and scared as you had two seconds ago. “What’s going on here… ?”, Mina asked with a smirk on her face, eyeing both of you with a meaningful look that made you want to roll your eyes so bad they’d get stuck if you did. “Nothing’s going on we had food. Why are you here?”, you interrupted her harshly before she was able to make any uncomfortable dirty hints towards the both of you being alone in your room and she just took the bait you were handing to her. “We were all thinking about going out if you want to join? You know who is going to be theeeere.”, she announced smirking and your heart started dropping. Jungkook seemed to move a little uncomfortable, putting his hands in his sweat pockets, watching both of you half arguing half teasing each other. “I think we’re going to stay in, besides, Jungkook only has sweats on I bet he doesn’t want to.”, you announced to Jungkook and he lifted his hands a bit defensive. “I mean you can go without me that’s totally fine, we can catch up some other time.”, he smiled and looked over to Mina then, being his polite distant self again that seemed to come out every time someone joined the two of you. “Ach, just put on some of Y/N’s fitted Sweatpants instead of the baggy ones and you look like you always do? No big deal, we’d want you there, come on. Jungkook you’re only a big plus I wasn’t aware you’re here.” She started talking and you could see the little faded love bite on her neck when her hair moved. “Who’s we… “, Jungkook asked her suspiciously, more interested in ‘you know who’ than anything else. Mina, being the gossiper she was, started talking about all the people that were going to attend and you knew that Jaebeom was ‘you know who’ - but Jungkook didn’t and you’d like to keep it that way. You had always thought of JB as someone you found really attractive but since things had changed between you and your best friend, the fact that JB was going to be there seemed more obstructive than helpful. You could see Jungkook’s brain going through all the people Mina had just listed, wondering who it was that you allegedly were excited to see tonight. “Yea I don’t know, I’m not feeling it, Mina.” “We should go… “, Jungkook mentioned to your surprise and you looked at him confused. “Come on, just a beer. I’ll walk you home after.”, he smiled and you looked at him a little suspicious. You knew exactly why he was pushing to go and it was destined to end bad.

Thirty minutes later all of you were sitting in one of the corner booths next to everyone else who had already been drinking and eating since way before you arrived. Everyone seemed to be there, even Yoongi and his girlfriend had left the house tonight. Jimin seemed to rock his happy-drunk facial expression and sitting next to him you chuckled, sharing a couple of shots of Soju with him to lighten up your mood. You knew that this night was going to end like all the other nights because none of you ever finished after ‘a couple of drinks’, ever. Feeling a good amount of tipsy an hour in, you didn’t mind when Jaebeom sat next to you and put his arm over your shoulders as the both of you started talking. You had done it countless times before and you always flirted back but had suddenly stopped after the Jungkook ‘sleepover incident’ a while back. It just hadn’t felt right since then. “Wasn’t expecting you to come to be honest. You’re working a lot lately.”, he said while sharing his beer with you, focused on you and the conversation completely. “I know, but it’s hard to find some time and I like being alone, you of all people should know what that’s like.”, you laughed and he chuckled as well. He dropped his hand off your shoulder, smoothly sliding it down behind your back, resting his palm on your hip. You were tipsy and definitely didn’t mind his touches while talking to him. It’s like you were in your own little world and being lost in the conversation, you had a couple more shots while catching up. This was what you usually did with JB and the alcohol definitely made you forget about the surroundings and your feelings you had so carefully pushed aside for months.

Only when you had to laugh and let your gaze drift across the table, you felt like your insides freezing up. It wasn’t the fact that Jungkook looked at you, it was the look of disappointment on his face when your eyes met that made you feel like you royally fucked up as a friend. His gaze turned back to his bottle of beer before turning back to Yugyeom, whispering something to him. Both of them got up and walked out the backdoor into the yard. It felt like seeing him look at you made you realize that you were cheating on him and all of a sudden the touch on your hip was too much and the conversation felt too intimate. Everything was too close. “Excuse me.”, you smiled, squeezing past JB out of the booth, heading over to the restrooms and you couldn’t help but frown at your own stupidity. If you could have it your way, of course you’d be dating Jungkook right now. Why would you forget about that just because you can’t have him? Why would you flirt with someone else although the person you’d want to be with was sitting right across? Your mind was running wild and as you walked down the hallway without looking up, you only felt a full on smack against your head before stumbling back a couple of steps, holding your hurting forehead. Jimin had just cut a corner and the both of you hit into each other so hard, you could feel the tears. “Oh my god. Are you ok?” He put both his hands on your head to look at your face, checking for an injury. It wasn’t only the impact of him bumping into him that hurt you so bad, it was seeing Jungkook’s face that hurt a hundred times more. The tears welling up in your eyes seemed like a perfect cover for the actual reason you wanted to cry, so you didn’t fight them. “Y/N… “, Jimin seemed a little panicked at your expression, thinking he really hurt you. “It’s not that. I’m fine I’m just… I had too much to drink.”, you tried to stir in and he nodded carefully, stroking over your cheek comforting. Thinking you were drunk was way better than explaining why you were actually crying. “Want me to get Jungkook? He can- “, he started but you shook your head alarmed. “Don’t!”, you said a little too fast and Jimin looked at you with a confused expression on his face. “I mean… don’t bother him. I’ll just go home, it’s all good. Don’t worry”, you replied.

“Everything ok?” Jungkook appeared behind Jimin and the still hurt expression on his face turned into worry once he saw the tears on your cheeks. “Y/N… What happened?” Semi-gently pushing away Jimin, he made you tilt your head up to look at him, his face a bit panicked. “Did he do anything? Did something happen?”, he asked worried and you just closed your eyes to not look at him, shaking your head lightly. The fact that JB hurting you was the first thing on his mind only made you realize how much he must’ve been bothered by him. “He didn’t do anything, I did.”, you mumbled as you felt the guilt creeping up even more and along with all the drinks you had that night, you really felt like going home was the best idea. “She said she’s drunk.”, Jimin chimed in, stroking over your back comforting. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”, Jungkook smiled softly. Stroking his thumb over your wet cheek gently to wipe the tears away. Jungkook shouldn’t have to comfort you like that since you messed up after all. You were the one treating him badly. You saw his face earlier when you mentioned the date, you saw how he cuddled you and yet you acted like you weren’t sure about his feelings towards you. You knew deep down, he had given you all the signs. You read them all and yet you got flirty with someone else. “Let’s go, hm? Maybe you’re just exhausted from today.”, he said politely, trying to make it seem like you weren’t even that drunk although you could feel that you were. Picking up the coats and wiping your face dry to make you look presentable before heading back out, Jungkook put his arm around your waist as both of you walked over to the table to say your goodbyes for the night. The overwhelming response of “booooo’s” made you chuckle. “You all know I’m weak, don’t act surprised.”, you chuckled and high fived some of them before heading outside with Jungkook, letting him lead the way.

“Y/N! Hold up.” Turning around while holding onto your best friend, your eyes feeling hazy and your head heavy you could see Jaebeom rushing out. He looked slightly awkward because of the fact that Jungkook was standing right next to both of you. Although he hated it, Jungkook was polite and took a few steps to give both of you some privacy and you could already feel that this was a bad idea. “Listen, I just wanted to know if you want to go grab some coffee sometime, maybe? I know this is sudden but I’d like it if you could make time soon.” His face and intentions were so pure that it hurt to even think about turning him down but there was nothing you could do. “Thank you so much for asking and please don’t take this the wrong way but I’m very drunk right now and I shouldn’t be making any judgment calls any time soon. I have someone I really like and it wouldn’t be fair to him. I know I kind of led you on tonight and I’m sorry, It’s not that I don’t find you attractive, because god knows you’re just my type, but I can’t go behind anyone’s back, especially my own. Besides that - I’m not allowed to date anyway so whatever it would be between you and me wouldn’t work out. But thank you, I really mean it. ” You smiled up to him, patting his chest once and you could see the embarrassment on his face he tried to cover with a smile.

“Let’s go.”, you mumbled, walking over to Jungkook, wrapping your arm around his waist as he tried to hold you upright while walking home. The way home was silent and you felt embarrassed about the fact he had to hold you but at least it gave you an excuse to be close to him. As he stopped in front of your building, you closed your eyes and leaned your cheek against his chest while he took the keys out of your coat pocket. He fumbled with the keys for a moment and maybe it was just wishful thinking but you were sure he had stalled to open the door on purpose. Standing up straight again you followed him with some difficulties and eventually reached out to take his hand. You could feel him tense up a little bit under your touch and when you looked up, his eyes were resting on yours and you weren’t able to read his expression at all. “Sorry.”, you mumbled, pulling your hand out of his, and for a split second he looked like he was about to take it again but he stepped closer, supporting your waist again and carried you up the stairs to your dorm while acting like nothing happened. He pulled off your sneakers and hung up your coat in the hallway, guiding you through the hallway to your room. “Alright, I’ll go get you some water and vitamins, okay?” You sat down on your bed, looking up to him and nodded as he walked out the room quietly.

Taking your clothes off turned out to be more difficult than you had expected it to be and with a few difficulties, you eventually managed to put on your sleep shirt. Getting up you pushed off your pants inconveniently, trying to pull the tight legs off your feet but eventually, you gave up and ended up sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for Jungkook to return. “Oh shit.”, was all he said as he walked in, turning around immediately at the sight of your bare legs. “Dooon’t. I need your help, take them off, please.”, you said a little whiny and knowing yourself, you’d remember all of this tomorrow and hate yourself for being so annoying and drunk. “Y/N… You’re not wearing pants I can’t just…”, Jungkook started talking, looking to the ceiling. “Yes, you can. They’re legs, I’m not asking you to grind on me. Just pull the legs off for god’s sake.” He took a deep breath, stroking over his face seemingly stressed by how this night had unfolded, and turned around to grab the skinny jeans on your ankles to pull them off carefully. Dropping back onto your sheets you let him pull the pants off before just stretching out on your bed, closing your eyes from the comfort of the sheets. “Alright, do you need anything else? Pajama pants?”, he asked and you turned around, crawling up under the covers, making him fluster even more, raising his gaze to the ceiling until you were tucked into your bedsheets and safe to look at. “I never sleep with pants.”, you mumbled and pulled the pillow in, looking at him in the doorway. “Mh-hm…”, he only mumbled polite and your thoughts started returning to earlier.

“I’m sorry. For all of it.”, you start explaining but he just smiled. “Nothing to be sorry for, you’ve seen me worse.”, he chuckled and sat down next to you, stroking your hair out of your forehead carefully. “All we have to do is take off that makeup and then you can sleep, ok?”, he smiled and touched your cheek a couple more times than he usually would, making the apples of your cheeks heat up. Jungkook left to get some make up remover and while you rubbed your face with the cotton pad, the painful expression on his face made you stop as he offered to help you before you’d reach the bones.

“I’m sorry for flirting with him.”, you said, watching his face carefully as he wiped away the last traces of foundation on your cheeks. “Don’t be, you should flirt with him if you like him.”, he smiled and you knew it must’ve cost him a lot of strength to react as calmly as he did. “I don’t like him though. Not in that way. Not anymore…”, you say and close your eyes as he gently wiped over them to remove your mascara. “You don’t?”, he asked patiently and you shook your head a bit, watching him get a new cotton pad. “I like someone else.”, you say and watched his face close to yours as he wiped over your lip one last time to get the lipstick off. “Yea?” He seemed very patient with all of your talking but you could notice that he was distant about it all. He didn’t want to hear it and forcing things on him usually didn’t end well. “Don’t you like me?”, you asked after a moment of silence as he collected the cotton pads. “What?”, he mumbled as if he didn’t hear you and turned his head to look at you properly. “I said - don’t you like me?” His expression as blank for a moment. “Of course I like you. We’re best friends.”, he countered and wiped over your nose cutely one more time, making you scrunch up your nose smiling.

“But do you only like me as a friend?” You decided to go all in. At this point you were aware all of this could be one of your biggest regrets of a lifetime tomorrow. “Y/N… “, he chuckled nervously and got up to throw out all the cotton pads. “Just say yes or no. It’s okay if you don’t, but I want to know.”, you said, watching him carefully. “You’re drunk, how about we don’t talk about this now? You don’t know what you’re saying.” Sitting down next to you again he smiled while pushing your hair behind your ear gently. “Just tell me.” Your voice turned almost a little angry since he was dodging all the questions you had been asking and although you may have been drunk, picking up the courage to be as honest and vulnerable as you were right now, still wasn’t easy. His eyes were focused on yours and he took a deep breath as he looked away. Stroking over his jaw he seemed to fight his own battle inside but he couldn’t get himself to give you an answer.

“Okay… “, you whispered after a long moment of silence. He didn’t seem to try and say anything and as you could see the apologizing look on his face, you felt a lump grow in your throat. You should’ve known pushing him wouldn’t work out and you should’ve known that getting drunk while feeling the way you did about him was a bad idea but there was nothing you could do about it now. You had said it all and now you had to live with the consequences. “Y/N… “, he said softly, putting his hand on your arm under the covers but you pulled away, feeling too hurt and embarrassed to look at him right now. “It’s fine, don’t worry.”, you mumbled. The least you could do is keep the last bit of dignity.

“It’s not fine. I just don’t want to talk to you about it when you’re drunk… Especially not after getting touchy-feely with Jaebeom. You can’t be mad at me, not tonight.”, he mumbled the last part. Knowing he was right you still didn’t say anything in return, well aware it was childish. “Don’t ignore me… You ignored me all night, that hurt enough.”, he said quietly and you looked over the sheets to him. “It’s not like you came over to sit next to me either, you know.”, you said a little too feisty. Jungkook looked at you for a long moment and simply smiled. There was no point in talking to you when you were drunk and hurt like that and he knew. He got up and smiled down at you. “Sleep well. I hope you’ll feel better tomorrow, okay?” He placed the water bottle on the nightstand closer for you to reach, laying the vitamins right next to it along with a pain killer. You took a deep breath and stroked over your eyes. “I’m sorry.”, you mumbled again and he bent down to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know you are, love. And I’m not avoiding your questions but when I feel like telling you how I feel, I want you to remember that I said it.” His voice was soft, barely audible and you looked at his lips to understand what he was saying but got distracted by the little birthmark right under it. “Now sleep well. I’ll bring you some breakfast tomorrow.” The last thing you remembered was his lips, touching your forehead soft, comforting you while everything around you was spinning in circles.

If you’ve managed to read this far, I’d be more than happy if you could like and share my chapter if you enjoyed it! If you have any suggestions for improvement or any drabble requests - make sure to shoot me a message!

thank you so much for reading and I hope you’ll stay around for the third chapter! 💖

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