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iichaeyj · 2 years ago

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YOU ARE IN LOVE

PAIRING: best friend!jake x f!reader GENRE: fluff, mutual pining WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol (both jake and the reader are overage!), not proof read WORD COUNT: 3.3k

A/N: inspired by "You Are In Love" by taylor swift !!

You look around the room filled with flashing lights and people dancing around each other in search for a familiar face. Turning your head side to side, you scan the room until your eyes land on a set of brown hair that you've known since you were in middle school. You smile immediately upon sighting Jake and you squeeze your way through the crowd of people to go to him.

"Jake!" you shout above the music as you wave your right hand fervently in the air as you get closer to him.

Hearing your voice, his eyes meet yours and instantly brings a smile to his face. "You ready to leave?" he shouts back.

As you approach your best friend, he grabs your outstretched hand and pulls you to him. His hand holds yours as he's done many times before, and you're lucky that the red lighting in the room hides the growing blush on your face.

In response to his question, you nod quickly. "I think I've had as much fun as I could have," you say as he leans in closer to hear.

Jake quickly finishes the red solo cup in his hand and sets it down next to the table, his left hand not letting go of yours. He nods his head towards the front door and leads you out of the party. The cold air relieves you after the hours of dancing with random strangers that left you feeling hot. The music begins to fade into the background and all you can hear is the owl of the night and your ever-growing heartbeat as you look down at the hand Jake still has hold of.

"Did you have fun?" you ask your best friend who has slowed down to match your pace.

He thinks for a moment, his eyes fixed on the night sky before looking back at you. "It was alright," he shrugs. "I think you enjoy these things more than I do."

You think back on the night you've just had. Ever since you two arrived, you've spent the night talking with your friends, playing games, and dancing with people you're probably never going to see again. However, Jake had spent his entire night standing behind you, drinking water in the corner of the room, or occasionally talking to Heeseung whenever he was nearby.

You frown at the realization that the night might've been less than exciting for Jake. "You didn't have to take me here, you know," you say. "I didn't want you to have a bad time."

"I never said I had a bad time," Jake retorts with a small shrug. "I got to see how bad you are at dancing."

You roll your eyes as you give him a small shove, earning a laugh from the boy next to you. "I'm a wonderful dancer, even Niki said so!" you argue.

"Well Niki has also once said that he doesn't believe in global warming, so I'm not sure you wanna take his word for it," he teases further with his signature grin on his face.

"Whether I'm a good dancer or not," you say, shooting him a glare, "you still shouldn't have come if you weren't gonna do anything! We could've stayed in and watched a movie or something."

"You wanted to go, though," he says in a soft tone, giving your hand a squeeze. "You know I'd go anywhere you want me to, as long as it's with you."

The cold air does nothing to help your burning face and you turn your face away from him to stare at the ground instead. As you make your way closer to his car, you think about the feelings you've been harboring for your best friend for over a year now. Having been by your side since the 6th grade, Jake knows every single little detail about you. From what kind of clothes you like to what each of your sighs mean, it seems impossible to keep things from him. However, the inevitable realization of how he's grown over the years and how he takes care of you, and seemingly only you, has made you keep a secret that you're too afraid to share.

You wake up with a pounding headache in a familiar room that's not yours. You instantly sit up after realizing you weren't in your house, quickly glancing around the room. However, the smell of cologne and the science textbooks laid on the desk next to the bed tells you enough and puts you at ease once again. You groan from the headache threatening to split your skull.

"Here, take this," you hear as the door opens with a loud creak. You look up to be met by Jake staring down at you with a hangover cure in one hand and a plate of eggs and bacon in the other.

You gratefully take the hangover cure, downing it in one go and muttering a "thanks" as you take the plate from his hands. Jake sits down in front of you in the bed, watching your every move as you eat the breakfast with the fork he had also provided.

"Are you feeling better?" Jake asks with a soft smile once you finish eating.

You nod slowly as you set the plate down on the desk next to you. "What happened?" you ask with a sheepish grin, your hands fumbling with the gray sheets of his bed.

"Well Jay drove you over here after you had too many drinks at a party, claiming that he didn't know where you lived and you refused to tell him your address, so he took you here," Jake says, then pointing at the plate he had made you, "and I just nursed you back to health."

You blush in embarrassment, looking down at the hoodie you had on over your clothes from last night.

Noticing your gaze, Jake comments, "And you also asked for all of my clothes, including undergarments, but considering I have to go to a lecture later today, I just gave you a hoodie in hopes that you'd be satisfied."

Jake smiles cheekily as you get more embarrassed, fragments of the night before now coming back to you. "I feel like I owe you dinner," you finally say with a sigh.

"You know I never decline free food, but you don't really 'owe' me anything," Jake replies.

You let out a loud groan as you hide your face with your hands. "This is so embarrassing, Jake!" you complain, face pink at the horrifying realization that you had asked your best friend for his underwear for no reason whatsoever.

Jake takes your hands off your face with his, smiling as he sees your flushed face. "It isn't that bad. Remember that time we had a lecture and the teacher heard you talking about how you wanted to shine his bald head?"

You give Jake a push as you're forced to relive your worst memories right in front of him, your face heating up again. However, Jake, on the other hand, seems to be enjoying your suffering. "Come on, it isn't that bad," he says with a softer voice when he sees your flushed cheeks. "It was just me."

"It's still so embarrassing, though," you complain.

"I've known you since you had that bowl cut in middle school," Jake says with a convincing smile, raising his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. "Trust me when I say that nothing could ever make me see you in any way that's not endearing."

His words tickle your ear as you hear them, the gentle tone of his voice mixed with his hand that lingers by your face hitting you harder than it should've. You look up and see his face already looking at you, eyes big just as they always are, but somehow holding more meaning to them than they ever did before. You find yourself subconsciously memorizing the way his hands feel against your skin and the way his lips are coated in a smile whenever he talks to you. You knew that Jake was attractive, but this feeling was something that shouldn't be happening to you, not with your best friend.

You let out a small gasp and snap away from your trance, the realization of the thoughts you just had hitting you all at once. "I should get going, my roommate is probably wondering where I am," you say as you make your way to the door.

Jake nods as you grab your bag he had kept for you by the side of the bed. "I'll see you later then?" he asks.

"Yeah, of course," you reply with a faint smile as you leave. "Come over whenever you want."

"Alright," he says as he waves you off. "I'll make sure to buy you some men's underwear for the next visit!" he says as you leave, and you could hear the smile in his voice that left you feeling more vulnerable than it should've.

Ever since that morning, you've become increasingly aware of yourself around your best friend. Being affectionate since you two were kids, it wasn't abnormal for Jake to have his arm around your shoulders or his hand to be intertwined with yours. You've heard your friends joke about the romance that could spark between you two, but you didn't take it seriously until you came to the realization that he spoke words to you that you've never heard from anyone else.

Jake holds the door open for you as you near his car, the music from the party now barely being able to be heard. "After you, princess," Jake says, bowing slightly to which you feel the need to roll your eyes again. You let go of his hand to get in his passenger's seat and watch as Jake strides over to the driver's seat. Your eyes catch the way the moonlight hits his face and the way his hair moves slightly in the wind and you feel the same feeling you first had in his apartment that morning and have been feeling ever since.

"Can I ask you something?" Jake asks as he drives off, turning the radio on.

"Yeah, what is it?" you ask as the music begins to fill the quiet sound of the night.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Silence sets in. You couldn't think of anything he had done that remotely insulted or hurt you in any way. In fact, Jake being too kind to you was the only problem you had concerning him.

"I feel like you've been growing distant since last month," he says as he stops at the red light. He turns to look at you and the sheer sorrow in his eyes make you hold your breath. You've never seen him look so sad and it both pains and delights you in a strange way. You feel sorry for your best friend who's done nothing wrong, but seeing how you incite such emotion in him that you know no one else can makes you hopeful for a bigger role in his life.

Remembering last month, however, makes you dread the conversation you know you were bound to have.

You sit on the steps of a house hosting a frat party. You could hear people in the background whispering amongst themselves about things you had no idea about. You sit on the concrete and you barely get a chance alone until you hear footsteps come and halt in front of you.

"I was wondering where you went," Jake says as he sits down next to you. "I heard that your ex is here, too."

You let out a small sigh as you look down at the ground, the pebbles lining the ground garnering all your attention. The truth was that you've been over your ex ever since you realized your feelings for Jake. Seeing your ex didn't hurt, but seeing Jake talking to a pretty senior did.

You had to watch as a gorgeous brunette strutted over to Jake from across the room, smiling at him so brightly that Jake smiled back. Watching the two of them, even for a moment, as an outsider made you feel scared for the future you two held if your feelings continued. At the end of the day all you want is what's best for Jake, but the lump in your throat everytime he gets near you is becoming increasingly hard to ignore. And when Jake makes eye contact with you as he's talking to the girl, you suddenly couldn't handle the tension in the room.

"You know, he really isn't worth your time," Jake says in a gentle voice. "He looks much worse without you, and honestly, I think you could've done much better."

You nod and turn your head to give him a bitter smile. You didn't have the courage to tell him that he was the reason you had to leave.

"You deserve someone who takes care of you," Jake says. "Someone who knows you well and would never abandon you."

Hearing no response from you, Jake takes the initiative to move and crouch in front you, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Look at how lucky I am," Jake says with a smile, "to be able to be by your side like this. There's nothing more I could ask for and your ex is an idiot to think otherwise."

The blatant staring contest you two were having matched the same one you had in his room almost a year ago. Your breath still hitched the same way it had the first time, but this time you could focus on the way he looked back at you. His gaze never faltered as he looked into your eyes, almost as if he was searching for something inside your heart. The way he looked at you had never felt so different, but the familiarity of Jake told you that you were safe.

You never had the chance to tell Jake that you weren't jealous over your ex, but him instead. Ever since that night, you've grown increasingly worried about your growing feelings for him and the nagging uncertainty of whether he felt the same. Due to this, you've found yourself taking time away from Jake and going out more. If it weren't for Jake's insistence that he come tonight, you weren't sure when you'd feel able to see him again.

The silence becomes worse as Jake glances at you expectantly, waiting for an answer. However, the temptation to tell him how you truly feel about him is one that you don't wish to give into. The burden of putting your entire relationship with him was on the line and it could snap depending on how Jake felt. With three words, you could possibly end things with the one person you truly love and have loved since you were a kid.

"I wasn't upset because of my ex," you finally say after a decade of silence. "I've been over him for over a year now."

Jake drives in silence as he waits for you to continue, but the line between friendship and whatever would come next was being increasingly shaky.

"Do you have somebody you love?" you ask, your eyes never diverging from the empty road in front of you.

"I do," Jake says as he makes a turn and goes down your street.

"Do you know how it feels when you're constantly scared that the person you love might not love you back and that maybe they'll find love within someone else," you say, not so much as a question but a statement, as Jake pulls onto the sidewalk right in front of your house.

Jake pauses.

You could hear the gears turning in his head. He thinks about the party from a month ago, the way his gaze fluttered from the senior girl to you. He thinks about the moments you two had shared eye contact that never seemed to truly break. He thinks about the times you two sat in silence with nothing being said between you two, but the simple feeling of being in your presence being enough for him. He thinks about you in the way you finally want him to, and the way he's been thinking about you for years now.

"I do," he says in a whisper.

He looks at you and you look back. He knew every detail about you and he understood what your words meant.

"You're my best friend," Jake says, this time barely above a whisper.

His words don't confuse you. Though many may misinterpret his words to be a way of rejecting you, you know that he doesn't feel that way. You could feel it in the way his hand inches closer to you and the way his eyes fall on every detail of your face.

Being someone's best friend meant that they were your home. You two have been each other's safe place since you two first met many years ago. Being best friends didn't mean to Jake Sim that he wanted to keep it that way. Being best friends meant that he was reassuring you that nothing you could say would change how he felt about you and that you felt safe enough for him to finally admit what he wants.

His hand finally reaches you, giving your hand a small squeeze before he reaches up to touch the side of your face. The air is warm and the song from the radio still plays as he looks at you in a way that finally offers an answer.

You knew what it meant.

You knew what it was.

He is in love.

He looks at you again and you give him a small nod. He leans in the same time you do and you share the kiss you've been dreaming about. His hand cups your face and your hand reaches out to hold his. His lips are soft and kiss you gently in a way that tells you that you're safe and that he's been waiting for this moment just as much as you have. His eyes flutter open as you two pull away, his hand still cupping your face and looking at you no differently than how he previously had.

Nothing had changed. Although you two were now classified as something more than just friends, the title of being best friends still remain. You would still see him during class and you were bound to embarrass yourself many more times in front of him, but now you two could share a kiss after every moment and share hugs that meant more than just friendship.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" you say quietly, not wanting to break the atmosphere between you two.

"Yeah, I'll pick you up at 8 AM for class," Jake says, his tone matching yours.

The walk back into your house carries the moment you just had. From the moment you unbuckled your seatbelt to you leaving the car to entering your place, the feeling of Jake Sim didn't leave. The kiss left you breathless even after you had placed your bag on the floor and thrown your jacket onto your couch, and it almost left you from hearing the knocking on the door.

You open the door slightly to find Jake standing there. You stare at him and he doesn't answer.

"I thought you were picking me up tomorrow." you say.

"I can't just leave like this," Jake mutters as he steps forward and closes the gap between you two, cupping your face as he pulls you closer for another kiss.

The feeling of his denim jacket hitting your skin and the ecstasy of his hands on your face hits you with the same feeling again. You felt light on your feet and he left you breathless once again. The feeling of Jake Sim being yours and standing in your front door gave you reassurance of what everything was.

You are in love.

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adventuringblind · 1 year ago

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Butterflies on You Skin

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: angst and hurt/comfort

Request: No, this is entirely self indulgent

Summary: Sometimes, the coping mechanisms we create aren't the ones we need...

Warnings: graphic images if SH

Notes: I do not in any way condone SH. I used to read fics like this when I was going through it and it helped. Like somehow reading about fictional me doing it and then getting help allowed he to have those same sensations. My point being that I am struggling at the time I'm writing this and I'm determined to stay clean (almost two years!). This helps me and I hope it helps someone else out there too. Remeber you're not alone ❤️

Masterlist

People don't understand that pain can become addicting. When you've been through so much of it, all of it not by choice, choosing the pain feels like a release.

She knows it's wrong. She knows there are better ways of dealing with things. But she can't see to stop herself.

It's her way of reminding herself she has power and control. She picks where the knife goes and how deep it cuts into her skin. She chooses when and where it happens.

It was something she needed and relied on for so long. Until she met Oscar.

They were teenagers when they met. Some birthday party for a mutual friend. Both of them left feeling out of place, so they gravitated towards each other.

Phone numbers were exchanged.

They spent far too much time talking to each other. She felt that he kept her down to earth. That no matter the bad things that happened, he would be there. Even replacing the knife occasionally.

He found her intriguing. Her perspectives on life and her dreams for the future. Her head had a tendency to get stuck in the clouds, but he didn't mind. He likes listening to her talk.

When they both graduate, he invites her to his races. Watching him felt fulfilling in a way, and she likes the traveling.

Yet when she's alone. Her head is sending her to places she can't come back from. When she needs the sting she's come to crave, she's spending the night with her knife.

When Oscar finishes his f2 career and becomes the third driver for Alpine, he ends up confessing his feelings for her. Something she's been wanting to do for years but never could.

A week later, he's kissing her. Her heads find the clouds easily after that. Something about his presence and how he is so genuine clears away the hurricane that is her thoughts.

Being a third driver means Oscar does have a bit more free time. He gets to go home to see her more often. Something she's not used to.

The Australian gets home late one night. He comes in quietly since he figures she's already asleep.

Oh, how terribly wrong he is.

She'd had a fight with her family earlier that day. Her parents have never been good at communication, and they still claim they gave her a better life than what they had. Which is true, she thinks.

She has no reason to be sad.

Another reason to draw the sharp edge across her skin. Another thin red line to add to the ever growing tally.

Oscar sees the bathroom door closed and the light turned on. He hears the clatter next. He presses his ear to the door. Debating whether to make his presence known or if that would scare her more than if he waited.

The hiss of pain is what gets him. "Love? Are you alright?" All movement on the other side stops. Then the clatter again.

She hates when she gets sloppy. She knows she's gone too far, and Kscar wasn't supposed to be home until tomorrow.

She stares down at the crimson colored lines. The contents of the wounds coat her skin at dripping to the floor.

"Love? Please answer."

But she can't answer. what is she supposed to say? That her unhealthy coping mechanism is finally becoming her undoing. The she's tried to stop but the sensation is something she's learned to crave?

Oscar tried the handle. Received to find it unlocked. He opens just a small crack. He's never been one to invade her privacy.

The look of pain in his eyes makes her sob. He dosent move when he sees her. His mind trying to register what he's seeing.

How had he never noticed until now?

He can tell she’s panicking. He gently moves himself to the floor, grabbing a towel as he goes. He doesn’t say anything, just gently start to clean her up.

When he’s successfully disinfected the wounds and has bandages them up, he lead her into their room.

“I know it’s hard, but we have to talk about it.”

She just shakes her head in response. He deserves an explanation. Really, he deserves someone better.

She just tells him everything. Basks in the gentleness of his voice and warmth of his touch as she does so.

She was expecting him to leave. Her mind convinced she was unlovable in her state. After all, who could fall in love with someone who crave the sting of a knife?

But she was wrong.

Oscar was somehow filled with a new sense of purpose and they found themselves working together to help her pull through to the other side. A reminder that she is far from alone.

He’s quick to find a way to help her and when he does it feels almost magical.

The butterfly project. The goal is to not kill the butterflies.

They start small. She puts the butterfly on her hand. Just a simple doodle.

It doesn’t last long and she’s crying over the fact she killed it.

The next time around there are two butterflies. One on her and one in Oscar. His drawing take much more time. His deliberate design giving her more motivation to not ruin it.

It’s gone in two weeks and she relapses that day. Yet the fact she made it that far was an accomplishment.

Soon the butterflies are everywhere. Both their arms covered.

It became something she did when she was bored. Her hands drawing the bugs in every open surface.

It was difficult and she slipped but she was getting better.

Oscar was so incredibly proud of her. He got asked frequently about the creatures that littered his skin. He just said he liked them and so does his girlfriend.

When Oscar started with McLaren, Lando noticed them immediately. “If you ever need to talk I’m here if you want.” Oscar shoots him a confused look before remembering the lovely blue butterfly colored in with Sharpie placed in the middle of his forearm.

So she's made it to a year. Sure, she's slipped here and there, but it's nothing like it used to be. It's something to celebrate.

Oscar spends the entire day with her. Praising her acomplishment and reminding her how proud he is if her and how proud she should be of herself.

She is proud. It's something she never thought she could do. Not on her own, at least.

It's Oscar that helped her through and the butterflies in her skin.

Now she's has a permanent one. A reminder she came through to the other side. A reminder that she is not alone. Most importantly, a reminder she's loved.

Remember you're not alone.

This was somewhat based on a true story. Here's my reminder to myself every day that I'm not done yet, and neither are you. Keep fighting loves ❤️

182 notes · View notes

shinjisdone · 11 months ago

Note

(Kicks the blog door)

I was excited when I saw that the Yandere type orders were open, since the orders are open, I don't want to miss my shot >:D

Type: Headcanons (Yandere)

Reader: Female

Yandere Alphabet

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?💔

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?💔

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?💔

Character: (TWST) Silver

I hope that my request is not too long, in case it has complications you can discard it if you wish. But if not, take your time and no pressure 🌠🌌✍️ Bye 👍💐

@justm3di0cr3 , @a-small-tyrant , @twistedcece , @savanaclaw1996

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling? - Silver

Silver - when everything is considered "fine" in his eyes - can be his usual self around you. Disciplined, honest, and a gentleman. There is, however, an obvious infatuation and admiration in his eyes whenever he gazes at you. Whether or not you see it. In moments such as these, he's quiet and calm and has only eyes for you. He barely acknowledges anything or anyone else when you are here.

He listens mostly but likes to do so while he is close to you. He'd try his very hardest to not fall asleep by...staring at you intently. Seeing you, especially this close (to him!) gives him the urge to never look away and to focus on only you. Sitting close together, knee next to knee, hands brushing, goodness if only he could even ask if he could lay on your lap! How could he ever escape to his dreams when his one dream is right here?

Unfortunately, due to being so quiet and staring at you, he unwittingly seems creepy, even with that gentle smile of his. He prefers to listen so he can soak up every little detail about you and what you say, what you like, dislike, have noted or wanted. Silver can act accordingly then by either avoiding certain things you do not like or surprising you with something you had your eye on for quite some time.

It might seem like he is zoning out...but he is very much in the moment. Taking in every little small thing you do, from your choice of words to the way your eyes flicker and your weight shifts as you stand. Silver is quite observant and it is a pleasure for him to just indulge in your presence and is even quite proud of being able to know every detail about you by just watching.

If only you could know what he is thinking as he listens to you talk. His smile would not seem so soft anymore.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Silver is patient. He's a bit of a daydreamer as well, finding contentment in being your close friend - as long as that also means that he can admire you from afar, be the only one who listens to and solves your problems, who offers protection for you that you gladly accept, as long as he can be your prince. It is a bit cliché but he very much enjoys the role of a knight...however, he sees you in a more romanticised light as his 'loving liege' that he can rather pledge his love and loyalty to than his allegiance.

Pining can go on for a long time but the longer it goes on in the school years, the more his heart aches. And the more it aches, the more emotional cool-headed Silver gets and that increases the chances of him acting upon them. Suddenly proclaiming shocking things to you, asking you very personal questions while wanting to hear only one answer; "Yes, I love you too, Silver."

He does not grow angry nor saddened. Upset at most but he simply wants to know one thing while letting you know thousands more; Of his thoughts, of his feelings, of him pledging his love to you. Please, please accept it!

However, when someone approaches that threatens his position as your self-proclaimed knight or when you reject and not indulge in his fantasies, Silver might get a bit upset - however, his patience is abundant. It will take time and a lot of troubling situations for his patience to grow thinner.

Silver will encourage himself if you and the actions of others do not. How this will be short-lived and that he cannot be...replaced as harsh as it sounds - because it is not possible. Someone like him who has worked so hard to be by your side, to be seen in that light by you cannot just be cast aside. It's not possible.

He is your knight. Even when you do not acknowledge it.

The moment he'd snap is when his fantasies and dream are completely shattered. Either by thorough rejection or you finding love in someone else. Silver does not get violent but emotional. Heartbroken. He might finally spill everything out very emotionally and dismayingly. You do not recognize him.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Jealousy is seldom but possible.

Silver is not neccessarily jealous of people he knows he is above of in skill, in knowledge, and strength. But no matter how "weak" someone might appear to be, he might get jealous if they still manage to be close to you.

Especially when you act different around them. Much more positively than you ever have with Silver. As mentioned he is observant and will notice the slightest shift in your mood and feelings and when they appear to be displeasing to him, Silver gets jealous.

He tries to brush the green monster off. There is no need to feel upset. Just because you might feel a certain way about someone else does not mean your knight will be replaced or deterred. He'd rather wait and see instead of making assumptions. Who knows, this little thing you've got going on with this other student might be short-lived (He hoped so dearly).

So Silver somewhat blocks it all out because he knows if he watched and listens, he will notice you liking this person quite a bit, or the student being way too comfortable around you. He will notice it, he knows it, so in the beginning he will try to ignore it and instead strenghten the bond he has with you. But enough will be enough and Silver will have no choice but to acknowledge this gnawing jealousy.

Still, he tries his best not to lash out. Especially when he is with you but if he does happen to be alone with that person that makes you laugh while Silver can only make you giggle, he might...challenge them to a duel. A friendly match to test each other's skills and wits.

However, he might end up beating them much harsher than originally intended but Silver will not notice. The only thing in his mind is to prove to himself, to you and especially to the other student, that they are no match.

They might stop hanging out with you...and just like the princely knight that he is, Silver will be by your side as your support. He did not outright plan to scare the other party away with his brute strength but he does not complain of his things ended up.

With you back in his arms.

#request answered #twst #twisted wonderland #silver twst #silver vanrouge #yandere silver #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere alphabet #yandere

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spacecaravan · 1 year ago

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Birthday Candles

pairing: pre-outbreak joel miller x reader word count: 5.5k 🎂🎈

The sounds of little girls' laughter, music over the stereo and the telltale slashing of a Slip ‘N Slide were all you could hear from inside the Miller’s kitchen.

July in Austin was brutal but, when Sarah asked if she could have friends over for a birthday party Joel couldn’t say no.

How do you say no to a little girl about to turn 11? The answer is, you don’t.

The inability to say no, specifically to Joel Miller, is how you ended up meticulously placing 11 birthday candles on a cake you’d made the day before. A simple two-tiered confection frosted a pretty lilac color that took you too long to get perfect, not that you would ever admit that out loud.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,”

Joel wasn’t looking at you when he said it, he was too busy eyeing the cake on the counter. He didn't believe you when you told him you’d made it yourself, and stared at you with his jaw practically on the floor when you walked through his front door with it. When he called you to help with Sarah’s party, he’d assumed you'd pick up a simple sheet cake from the grocery store, he never expected you to bring something like this.

“Joel,” you said mixed with a laugh, “for the hundredth time, I really don’t mind,”

You turned to see Joel, his hair a bit damp from helping the girls with the Slip ‘N Slide, white t-shirt the slightest bit translucent thanks to the mischief only young girls can get away with on their birthdays.

“How’s it going out there?” You inquired while peeking around Joel to catch a quick glimpse at the party unfolding in the backyard.

“Good,” he quipped, “thanks to you. I don’t know what I would have done if-“

“Joel, please. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now,” You interrupted him midsentence, already highly aware of what’s coming next. It’s like Joel had been playing on a loop since he initially called to ask you to help with Sarah's birthday party.

The phone call you received three weeks ago was laced with the panic of a man who was acutely aware that he wouldn’t know what to do with twelve 6th-grade girls running around his home. His anxiety was palpable as he babbled on and on about cakes, balloons and birthday outfits.

“She said she wants a special birthday outfit? What does that even mean? Can it be something she already has or does it mean she wants something new?”

You couldn’t help but laugh over the receiver at his plight, this is what would take down Joel Miller, his sweet daughter asking for her first birthday party with friends. On that call you assured him everything would be okay, telling him firmly, “I was born for this task, Miller”

Joel and you had met years prior, a chance run-in at the grocery store where he and Sarah happened to be pushing a cart along in the same aisle as you.

“I really like your hair,” Sarah boldly said to you in the middle of the aisle. Sarah was young then, the type of young that made it possible to complement complete strangers in the grocery store.

You couldn’t help but admire her curly head of hair and sweet demeanor — you also couldn’t help but notice her father, Joel Miller. Whether he knew it or not, he always possessed the ability to take your breath away, even under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the canned goods aisle.

“Thank you,” you responded with a smile, “I really like yours too.” You took a moment to glance over at Joel with a smile gracing your features. “You too, Dad. Nice do.”

The first time you spoke to Joel it was with a wink and a smile that he swore made his heart drop somewhere between the canned soup and the black beans. Clean up on aisle four.

“Could you teach me to do mine like yours?” Sarah continued, running her small hands over her loose locks as she gazed up at your braided hair.

“Sarah, we don’t-“ Joel had started to interject, a bright red flush already beginning to work its way up his neck and onto his cheeks.

“Sure,” you started, “but only if it’s okay with your dad,” You took your eyes off Sarah for a moment to glance over at Joel, silently letting him know you were genuinely okay with this.

Your agreeing to Sarah’s request took him by surprise. “Uh,” he mumbled while reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

The hesitancy was warranted, regardless of how pretty Joel thought you were, you were still a stranger in the grocery store.

“Here’s an idea,” you began while reaching into the bag you had resting in your cart, fishing around in the opening for something before pulling out a pen and a scrap of paper.

“Here’s my name and number,” you said while you scribbled down the series of letters and numbers, “Sarah,” you parroted the name you heard her Dad speak before, “you take this, and if you still want to learn how to braid, ask your Daddy here to give me a ring, okay?”

Daddy. Joel would be lying if he said he didn’t like the sound of it rolling off your tongue.

“That okay with you, Dad?”

“It’s Joel,” the response was terse, almost choked out because he was still focused on the way you calling him daddy made his skin tingle and his mouth water.

“Alright,” you said as the corners of your lips lifted into a grin, “how does that sound, Joel?”

Sarah stared up at her father expectantly, eyes shining up at him in a way you could tell was practiced, this girl knew how to get what she wanted. “Alright, I’ll call—Sarah’ll call you,”

And that’s how it all started years ago, a chance encounter, a little girl wanting to learn how to braid her hair and her handsome Daddy agreeing to it all.

Before Joel had a chance to respond, Sarah burst through the back door. Her face flushed from the summer heat, with her now-soaked hair secured in two French braids that you had done up for her earlier in the day.

She looked over at the cake behind you with a beaming smile. “Is it time for cake yet?”

“Almost, honey,” you replied. “You havin’ fun?”

She nodded with vigor, little droplets of water splashing down on the floor underneath her as she addressed you. “Uh-huh! Thank you for bringing the Slip ‘N Slide,”

She was too damn sweet.

Making your way over to her you saw one of her braids coming a bit loose at the end. “Only for you, sweet girl.” you began. “You want me to fix this braid for you before you go back out?”

She nodded again before turning her back to you to let you begin your work on her hair.

Joel watched you do this in complete silence, his heart lodged directly in his windpipe as you doted on his girl. It had been like this ever since the first time Sarah called you on the phone. You were immediately sweet on her and Joel couldn’t deny that having a woman on call to help Sarah do things like, braid and buy birthday outfits was more than welcome.

And in return, you got closer to him too, closer than any woman had gotten in years. There was a hole in Joel's heart that you slotted into perfectly.

“Are you ever gonna ask her out? Or are you gonna wait for some other guy ‘round town to do it?”

Tommy asked Joel that months ago, actually, for almost a year now Tommy had been pestering Joel about you. Tommy didn’t understand why in gods name a pretty thing like you was hanging around Joel and his daughter. But he mostly didn’t understand why his hard-headed older brother couldn’t pluck up the courage to tell you how he felt.

How Joel felt was, complicated. You're good for Sarah in a way that he didn’t want to mess up by getting into a relationship. It would break her heart if something were to happen that would keep you away from her. So that’s why Joel kept a tight lip and his feelings locked away to the best of his abilities.

But you made it hard, making it nearly impossible not to kiss you when you would sit around his kitchen table chattering away with Sarah after school. Made it hard as hell not to confess every feeling he had for you when you would sit her in front of you on his couch and style her hair on Sunday nights.

Even now, watching you run your fingers gently through her damp hair to re-assemble the style she had requested specifically for her special party made him weak in the knees.

"All good birthday girl," you chirped, playfully tugging at the end of the fresh braid.

Sarah gave you a quick and enthusiastic thank you before running back out the door, a chorus of giggles erupted the moment she rejoined her friends. It was precious, and it was everything a little girl like Sarah Miller deserved.

"Thank you," Joel said softly, his mind caught up in the vision you presented to him right now, skin and hair bathed in perfect afternoon sunlight in his mess of a kitchen. "You keep sayin' it's nothin' but, it means a lot to—" Joel paused briefly, some sentiment trying to crawl its way out. "It means a lot to me. More than you know."

You know a little. Know that Sarah's mom left and that Joel works tirelessly to provide for them and his younger brother. You're aware of the privilege it is to be a part of Sarah and Joel's life, to be let into their little corner of the world.

You smiled softly at him. If only he knew you would do anything for the two of them—would move mountains if Joel and Sarah asked you to. A kid's birthday party, making a cake and bringing your old Slip ‘N Slide was nothing in comparison to that, and you would do it over and over again, all they needed to do was ask.

"Of course, Joel," you replied, sincerity lacing your tone as you gazed at him in the empty kitchen. "Like I've said before, I'd truly do anything for her. For you too, Joel, you know that."

Joel huffed in response, bringing his hand up to run his fingers through his still-damp hair. You could see some spark of a thought running through his mind, those expressive brown eyes were a dead giveaway every time.

Before Joel got the chance to speak further, the pair of you turned your heads after hearing the front door fly open and promptly slam shut. The door closing was followed by the sound of heavy work boots stomping through the empty house.

"Hey sweetheart," Tommy greeted you first with a quick kiss to your cheek as he made his way through the kitchen. "How's the birthday party, bro? Have the 11 years olds taken over yet?"

Joel grunted something unintelligible in response as he watched Tommy slide up to you easily, there was no hesitation in the younger Miller's actions as he reached towards the cake on the counter only to have his hand slapped away by you.

"Tommy!" you yelled. He just shrugged with a smile as he backed away with his hands held up in mock defense. "You were not just about to put your dirty fingers on this birthday cake were you?"

Joel had watched numerous scenes like this play out over the years. Tommy and you were close in age, only a year apart with you being the elder of the pair. Your rapport was easy, it was playful and fun in a way that made Joel's inside twinge with jealousy. He knew Tommy meant no harm by it, but it didn't stop his ears from ringing anytime Tommy would touch you in the ways he wish he had the courage to. Sometimes he wanted to ask his younger brother what your skin felt like on his lips, or what it was like to make you laugh in a way only Tommy could.

"Come on," Tommy started, "can you blame me? Look at that thing, it's a masterpiece. Ain't it Joel?"

Joel's nostrils flared slightly at his younger brother goading, this was another thing Joel was used to. Tommy doing everything in his power — including incessant teasing — to push him to confess his feelings for you.

Joel took the bait happily this time. "It is darlin'. It's perfect."

Your spine prickled at the pet name, nothing set your nervous system on fire like having Joel Miller call you sweet names like darlin'.

"Alright, fellas," you said with a smile, a hand planted firmly on your hip as you stared down the Miller brothers. "I'm gonna go wrangle up the girls and get them ready for cake. Joel, can you please make sure your heathen of a brother doesn't try any funny business in here?"

"Yes ma'am," Joel replied, his eyes following your every move as you walked out the back door and into the belly of the beast.

"You're a moron," Tommy deadpanned.

Joel whipped around to stare at Tommy, jaw slack and eyes ablaze. "Come again?"

Tommy cleared his throat comically before repeating himself. "You're a fucking moron," he said with a smirk. "Just tell her already, Joel."

"Tommy, I swear to god not this again," Joel sighed.

"Yes, this again," Tommy said smugly. "Do you know what it's like to watch the two of you dance around each other like a couple of high schoolers?"

Joel opened his mouth to counter, but Tommy beat him to it. "She likes you, Joel, it's clear as damn day that she likes you."

"She's doin' all this for Sarah, not me," Joel mumbled half-heartedly, the words had no conviction behind them.

"You don't believe that and you know it." Tommy was quick to reply. "She does this for you, for both of you, and you owe it to her to tell her how you feel."

"It doesn't fuckin' matter, Tommy," Joel said to his brother in a biting tone. "Sarah needs her. Sarah needs her in a way that I can't risk messing up because of what, a crush?"

Joel felt like he was choking on the words coming out of his mouth. It didn't feel right to say out loud, it seemed wrong to call whatever he felt for you a crush. But he hoped and prayed that the longer he kept you at a distance the easier it would get.

This had been Joel's plan of action for a long time, keep you at arm's length to protect Sarah, to protect himself, to keep his girl happy. And for a while, it worked. For a few months, it was enough for him just to see how happy you made Sarah — to watch her learn from you.

It worked until it didn't. It worked until Joel would come home and see you curled up on the couch with Sarah, and all he wanted to do was kiss you awake. The plan was solid until he caught the two of you standing in front of the bathroom mirror one day, her hands mirroring your own as you weaved pieces of your hair together. Joel could read Sarah like a book, she loved you, admired you even, and Joel wouldn't risk taking that away from her.

"Joel," Tommy said with a frown. "Please, you deserve this. You and Sarah deserve her. Let yourself have this. Let that beautiful woman outside who loves you and your daughter so damn much have this."

You could tell there was a strange tension in the air when you poked your head back into the kitchen. "Hey boys," you said hesitantly, glancing back and forth between the two of them. "Joel, you mind lightin' those candles? I got them all settled out there and if they don't get cake ASAP I can't be held responsible for what they do."

"Course," Joel sent one final look towards Tommy before he made his way over to the cake, a scowl planted firmly on his features as he mouthed drop it at his brother.

Tommy did nothing but smile slyly in Joel's direction. He had settled with his tailbone pressed against the counter, leaning casually next to Joel as his older brother rummaged around in the drawers for a lighter.

Tommy couldn’t help but stir the pot, making Joel a little uncomfortable was his brotherly duty and he wouldn't dare slack off.

"What have you been up to lately besides helpin' my brother plan birthday parties, sweetheart?" Tommy inquired.

It was an innocent query, one that could have led to any number of answers from you. What Joel didn't expect to hear as he was lighting candle number four was what came from your lips.

"Well," you started sheepishly, "I did go on a date the other weekend. It was horrible though, like, considering celibacy levels of horrible."

You didn't date often. Finding a man worth your time in Austin had never proven to be an easy task. Sure, there were plenty of dateable, attractive men available. But none of them lit you up quite like Joel Miller, so you found it easier to turn most down politely. Occasionally a charming enough guy could spark your interest, and that's exactly what happened two weeks ago.

"Oh really?"

Even though Joel wasn't facing Tommy he knew the idiot was grinning ear to ear.

"Yeah," you were laughing now, "the man's ego was bigger than the whole damn state of Texas. I've never in my life heard a man talk about himself so much."

Tommy couldn't help but push the conversation further, making his older brother squirm was hardwired into the man's brain. "Okay, so he was a talker — what happened after?"

If you hadn't been the one to make the cake Joel was currently standing over, he would have smashed the confection square into Tommy's smug little face.

"After?" you could hear your tone go the slightest bit shrill at the mere thought of taking your failed date home. "There was no after, Tommy. We had drinks, he talked my ear off and I went home. After, was me cleaning the dirty dishes in my sink once I got home."

Tommy just tutted, sucking his teeth at his failed attempt to crack Joel. What Tommy didn't know, was that Joel didn't like hearing the story no matter the outcome of your date. Did it make it better knowing that you had no connection with the guy? Yes. Did the thought of you going out on dates with men that weren't him make Joel's stomach turn? Also yes.

You glanced over at Joel as he worked to light candle number 11, his strong hands working delicately to ensure that no excess wax from the candles dripped onto the frosting. You could watch him do mundane things for hours, and you had. Countless summer afternoons with you and Sarah on the porch, watching Joel mow the lawn while you taught his daughter how to weave together friendship bracelets. Lazy Saturday evenings filled with laughter, takeout pizza and movie rentals. Joel, you can't not like The Princess Bride, it's a classic. A classic that he now had to rent from the video store almost weekly since you first showed the movie to Sarah in his living room.

Watching Joel be a Father was your favorite though — to see him do something as simple as light 11 perfectly placed candles on his daughter's birthday cake was enough to make your heart speed up.

"Looks like we're all ready. You boys ready to do some singin'?"

»»————-¤————-««

It was a few hours later: the cake was long gone, presents had been opened and the backyard returned to its normal state of affairs. Sarah had gone to spend the night at a friend's house after begging Joel to let her. Again, how do you say no to a little girl on her 11th birthday?

"You wanna drink?" Joel swallowed back the nerves rising in his throat as he asked you to stay longer. "Think you deserve one after all of that."

"I'll take one," you replied, finally settling down into Joel's worn couch, your bare feet instantly kicking out in front of you to rest on his coffee table. "Just give me whatever you're having."

Moments later, Joel entered the dimly lit living room with two lowball glasses half full of amber liquid, one with and one without ice. Joel was still in the same outfit as earlier, a grass-stained white shirt and tight-fitting denim. You wondered if he could smell the scent of summer on you as strongly as you could from him. Joel was all wet concrete, warm skin and humid air.

Joel settled down next to you, clearing his throat as he handed you your glass and held his own up to you.

"Cheers," he said quietly, lightly clinking his glass against yours before you both took tandem sips of your whiskeys. "You were really somethin' today, you know that? There's no way I'm gonna be able to top that birthday party."

"Was I?" you teased, "Was it the Slip ‘N Slide that pushed it over the edge? Or was it the expert little girl wrangling?"

Honesty pushed past Joel's lips before he could will himself to hold it back, "It was just you, darlin', always is. You're good with Sarah, have been since the day you met her."

That earnest reply made your heart jump straight into your throat, it sent a thrilling tingle from the top of your head to the very tips of your bare toes.

"She's easy to be good for, Joel. You know that better than anyone."

You saw Joel getting ready to respond to your statement, some self-deprecating comment on the tip of his tongue, so you cut him off before he even got the chance. "You're easy to be good for too, Joel. I don't do any of this just for Sarah. I do it for you too."

You were echoing Tommy's words from earlier and it made Joel's head spin. Hearing it from his younger brother was one thing, hearing it directly from you made him feel like he'd already drained his entire glass of whiskey.

"Why?"

You released a small sigh, removing your feet from the coffee table to tuck your knees close to your chest, angling your body in Joel's direction. You could still feel the tingling sensation from earlier but now it was paired with the feeling of honesty bubbling up to the surface.

"Because I like to, Joel," you said simply, moving to place your glass on the coffee table. "Because I like doing things for you, I like being around you."

Joel’s heart was beating impossibly loud at that moment, the sound of it in his ears enough to deafen him and have him worried that you could somehow hear his artery working overtime.

“Joel,” you started, taking a deep breath in through your nose to quell the feeling of anxiety brewing in your stomach. “you have to know how much I care about you, right?”

You weren’t even touching him, yet he could feel you all over, your confession planted itself directly into his brain — deep into the parts he kept locked away. The parts where he kept thoughts of you and him together, thoughts he only indulged in when he was fast asleep and dreaming of you looking at him the way you were at that very moment.

“Sugar,“ the endearment slipped past his lips before he could even process it. “I don’t want Sarah to get hurt.”

Another confession, this time the one Joel had been terrified to admit to you. So afraid that he thought he’d be okay admiring you from afar for the rest of his life if he had to.

“She won't get hurt,” you whispered to him, gently placing your hand on his denim-covered knee as you leaned in closer to him.

Joel swallowed hard, and his lips subconsciously parted as he stared at the earnest expression painted all over your face.

“How do you know?”

You didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Because I know you wouldn’t let that happen. Not to her, and not to me. You couldn’t hurt us if you tried, Joel.”

Joel gripped your hand resting on his knee, pressing his warm palm into yours as he pulled you in closer. The pair of you were sharing the same breath now, the sharp notes of whiskey mixed with sugary sweet frosting lingered in the space between your mouths.

“Mm,” Joel hummed as he brought his other hand up to rest his thumb on the highest part of your cheek. The same cheek Tommy had kissed earlier that day, the exact cheek he had imagined himself kissing so many times before as he stared on in envy.

“Can I kiss you, sugar?”

So many things happened in your body at once, but the immediate flooding in your panties and the butterflies in your lower belly trumped them all.

“Please, Joel.”

The moment Joel pressed his lips to yours a moan rose from the deepest parts of his chest. An unconscious release as he indulged in an action he thought was only a foolish daydream until a moment ago.

Kissing you was bliss. At that moment you both knew exactly where Nirvana was, it was locked away, hidden in the kisses you and Joel shared.

Tongues explored mouths, teeth playfully nipped at spit-soaked bottom lips and Joel couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He was quickly wrapping you up in his arms and pulling you onto his welcoming lap.

You were just as swift to act. Adjusting your positioning so you were straddling Joel’s thick thighs, reveling in the feeling of the heat from his body soaking into the bare skin of your legs.

You wasted no time sinking your full weight onto Joel’s lap. The desperation in you was mounting, and the need to relieve the pressure building in your core had goosebumps rising all over your skin.

Joel released another groan as he felt your core press into his growing erection—and the sweet moan you let out as he bucked his hips upward had his head spinning.

“Will you let me make you feel good, Joel?” you murmured as you stared directly into his deep brown eyes.

Joel tipped his head back as he soaked in your words. That was just like you, a nurturer to the core. And he couldn’t deny you what you wanted.

“Course, sweetheart.”

With that, you were pulling your shirt over your head to reveal the simple bra underneath. Your nipples had been hard since the moment he asked if he could kiss you, and Joel was drawn to them like a moth to flame.

Before you could even make your move Joel was latching his warm mouth to your covered breasts. His teeth immediately began teasing, biting and pulling, doing whatever he could to elicit a chorus of moans from you.

“Joel, I said-“

“I know what you said, sugar.”

Joel had heard you. But you were making him feel good. The feel of you grinding yourself on top of him as he played with your tits had him rock hard already. If you could make him feel like this from a heavy make-out session he could only imagine that everything else would be damn near euphoric.

“Can you take these off, baby?” Joel asked as he tugged at the hem of your shorts.

You nodded wordlessly and stood to your full height in front of him. Using the small space between his knees and the coffee table to slip your shorts down your legs and leave them forgotten on the rug beneath you.

“Those pretty panties too, sugar. Let me see you.”

This was a Joel you had never seen before. A man starved. A man who wanted nothing more than to leave you dreaming of him after he was done.

“Why don’t you take ‘em off for me, cowboy?”

All you saw was a smirk ghosting over Joel’s lips before he gripped your hips and turned you to face away from him. One large palm came to rest on your lower back, pressing on the area in a silent command for you to bend forward for him.

And of course, you did. You presented your ass fully to him as he worked to slowly slip your underwear over the swell of your bottom and down your legs.

Joel’s other hand was preoccupied as he opened up the fly on his jeans and freed his cock from the confines of the rigid denim. Before turning you back to face him, Joel reached up to deftly unclasp your bra, leaving you bare and buzzing with adrenaline before him as you both took in one another fully.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen?”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Miller.”

You both smiled at that. Smiled because, beneath all of the sexually charged energy in the room, it was you and him. It was everything.

“Come and take a ride, sugar.”

You knew you were more than wet enough, and the anticipation of sinking onto his hard length had salvia pooling underneath your tongue as you straddled Joel for the second time this evening.

The feeling of Joel’s smooth head prodding against your entrance made you gasp. If his hands weren’t gripping your hips and keeping you hovered over his length you would have sunk down immediately.

Before you could fill yourself, Joel let his thumb wander toward your swollen clit. His own desire clouded his thoughts as he rubbed the sensitive area in small circles and sent waves of pleasure through your entire nervous system.

“Joel, please, no teasing. Not tonight, I need to feel you inside me.”

Always the giver, he obliged. Joel relaxed the grip on your hips and finally allowed you to feel him completely.

A long, drawn-out moan escaped you as you felt Joel filling you up for the first time. Your position on his lap made it feel like he was deeper inside your pussy than anyone had ever been before. And your body responded immediately, your hips began moving almost on their own as you began to chase your pleasure.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck Joel.” You whined.

“Take what you need, sweet thing.” Joel gritted out.

Joel inhaled sharply through his nose as he basked in the feeling of your warm pussy gripping him tight.

Joel let you have the reins for a bit, letting you rock yourself up and down on his cock while he pinched at your bouncing nipples and playfully teased your clit. He only let his eyes close for a moment or two, wanting to commit the sight of you like this to memory. Something sweet to call up when he was alone in his bed and his mind was wandering.

But then enough was enough, Joel felt his own orgasm building swiftly and wanted more than anything to feel you soak his cock before he came.

His hands were back on your hips, palms wide and touch firm as he planted his feet and began to thrust up into you. Before long you were bent over Joel's body, resting your full weight on him as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"Can you touch yourself, baby?" Joel practically begged. "Play with your clit for me, sugar."

Ever since you met Joel you'd never been able to say no to him. Not when it came to little girl's birthday parties, and especially not when it came to the orgasm you could feel building up through your entire body. So you did, you reached down between your bodies to sloppily rub at your clit as Joel chased his orgasm alongside yours.

You came undone quicker than you anticipated. A thick, guttural moan escaped you as pleasure raced through your veins. Joel, still attentive, still watching you, was coming closer to his own end. His senses were filled with the sight, sound and feel of you coming undone on top of him.

Joel's breathing was shallow and heavy as he came deep inside you, his sensitive cock aching for more, more, more as he pumped in and out of you, finally coming to a slow stop as he allowed both of you to catch your breath.

For a while, neither of you said a word, the only movement came from Joel softly running the tips of his fingers up and down your spine. In the rush of it all, you'd barely noticed that Joel had not removed a single article of clothing—the two of you were beautifully juxtaposed against the other as you settled into the afterglow and what this meant for the two of you moving forward.

Joel pressed a gentle kiss into your hair, pulling you close to him. "I need you, Sugar."

"You've had me since the day you met me, Joel."

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sixhours · 7 months ago

Text

Meteor

She remembers the space he’d carved around himself, and the moment she realized the distance was too great to cross.

Rating: PG Word count: 1k

Notes: X-Files revival era fic.

Originally posted at ao3 01/19/2016

~*~

She makes her way up the long drive, the old farmhouse looming like a specter from her past. There are no lights in the windows, just a cold, hulking shadow against a darkening sky; an apt metaphor if she thinks about it too much, which she won’t.

“Where are you, Mulder?” Scully whispers to herself. His car is parked next to the porch. It’s evening, too early for sleep.

The air is damp as she leaves the warmth of the car, carrying a folder of papers. Spring has turned the ground to mud beneath her feet, and she, in her most expensive pair of heels, frowns. Her good boots are at the bottom of a box at the back of her closet along with the rest of the things she never unpacked.

The porch creaks in the same places, the screen door still protests on its hinge. She knocks once before trying the handle, finding it open.

“Mulder?”

The house is dusty and silent. She curses under her breath, gooseflesh rising along the back of her neck, wishing she had her holster. Three months on the job after so long away and she’s still not used to carrying.

She’s debating whether to check upstairs or leave the file on the kitchen table when a voice calls her name from outside.

“Scully?”

She steps onto the porch, squinting into the darkness. “Mulder? Is that you?”

“I’m out back,” he calls. “Watch your step.”

She turns on her phone’s flashlight and makes her way to the back yard. A shadow sits on the frame of the old pickup they haven’t used in years.

“I’d have left the porch light on if I’d known you were coming,” it says.

She points the phone in that direction, eliciting a wince from her partner as the beam hits his eyes.

“Ow, Scully.”

“Sorry,” she mutters, shutting off the light. “What are you doing out here, Mulder?”

There’s the distinct sound of liquid sloshing, the kiss of a bottle at his lips.

“Just sittin’ and thinkin’.”

“In the dark? It’s chilly,” she says, rubbing her shoulders for emphasis.

His face resolves as her eyes slowly adjust. He’s sitting on the tailgate, legs dangling off the end, a beer nestled between his thighs.

“I thought you’d be working.”

“Guy can’t take a break once in a while?”

She smirks. “Who are you and what have you done with my partner?”

“Hah-hah, funny. Have a seat, Scully.”

She does after a pause, easing herself onto the tailgate to join him.

“This’ll warm you up,” he says, offering her a beer.

“How many of these have you had?” she asks, accepting the bottle with a raised eyebrow.

“Just the one, doc. Don’t worry,” he says. “It’s not that kind of party.”

The cap twists off; the taste of malt fizzes on her tongue, goes down smooth.

“I take it you’re here for business and not pleasure,” he says, nodding to the folder in her lap.

“Mm. It’s the autopsy results for Lisa Baylor. Scrapings from her fingernails revealed traces of skin; they’re processing the DNA and I asked the lab to run it through NICS. We’ll have the full results in the morning, but I thought you’d want to get an early start.”

“You ever heard of email, Scully?”

“You mean the thing that keeps you tethered to your computer at all hours? Yeah, I’ve heard of it,” she mutters.

He offers a wry smile. “You didn’t have to drive all the way out here for that.”

“Maybe I wanted to talk about the case in person.”

His voice grows soft. “You don’t need an excuse to visit, you know. You always have a place here.”

“I wasn’t looking for an excuse.”

“Checking up on me, huh?”

“Mulder,” she sighs. “Don’t start.”

A cricket chirps in the grass at their feet, filling the stillness that hovers like a black mist. She remembers the space he’d carved around himself, and the moment she realized the distance was too great to cross.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says finally, nudging her shoulder in apology. “Been a rough year. Sometimes I forget we’re on the same side now.”

“I’ve always been on your side, Mulder,” she murmurs, feeling their history like a lead weight in her chest. “I’ve only ever wanted what was best for you.”

“I know,” he nods, then holds out his bottle. “Truce?”

“Truce,” she agrees, letting the glass clink softly. For a moment, the silence is comfortable, familiar, and she closes her eyes.

When she opens them, she’s looking at his profile in the dusky light. With his beard shaved and his hair trimmed, she can almost see the man she met twenty odd years ago. Without thinking, she reaches out to touch his cheek, the stubble rough against her fingers.

He looks over, bemused, and she pulls her hand away, still feeling the ghost of his skin against her palm.

“You clean up good, G-man,” she says.

He chuckles, his gaze turned upward. “Hey, it’s starting.”

He points to the sky and her eyes follow, trying to see what he sees. A pinprick of light flicks across the sky, followed by another, and then another; the beginnings of a meteor shower.

Mulder reaches behind them and pulls out two rolled sleeping bags, settling back against one in the bed of the truck. She doesn’t ask why he brought two instead of one, for the same reason she knows the extra beer in her hand was never intended for him.

She pulls the rolled blanket behind her and lies back to watch the show. Her eyes flit from one corner of the heavens to the other as more of the blue-white streaks make their way across the night, and she marvels at how the stars can still stun her with their beauty, how the universe in all its endless mystery can be so breathtaking, even after bringing such grief.

His voice is rich and vulnerable, spoken to the open air. “It wasn’t all bad, was it, Scully?”

She doesn’t have to think. Her response is as immediate and as involuntary as a heartbeat. “No…it wasn’t.”

She finds his hand without trying and listens to the sound of their mingled breathing as the sky falls around them.

cc @today-in-fic

#the x-files #mulder x scully #fanfic #x-files revival

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surfinminho · 1 year ago

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GLASSY

choreographer!reader x idol!felix

Warning: walking in, implied switch felix and reader, talk of exhibitionism, unprotected sex

Word count: 2.2k

requested by: @ihrtlix

you were scared. Why wouldn't you be?

You never usually went over to Felix's place. You never minded him over at your place, and you never hung out with him in public.

You two were really popular, if that's what you want to call it. People with cameras crowding you when you even step foot in public. People at airports surrounding felix when he's simply trying to get from point A to point B.

So when you are cleaning your house. Blasting whatever playlist you clicked on. And you get a text which reads

Felix 💕 : come over

You freak out. You always thought it was "risky" if anyone at the dorms found out about you guys years back. So you never went. Since the dorms are split in 2 now you think you have a better chance at not getting caught.

It was sad, funny, but also sad how you guys had to sneak around to see eachother. You had boyfriends in the past and the media never seemed to mind. Felix on the other hand, the media never got to know whether or not he ever had a girlfriend.

It leaves you to think, what's the harm in being exposed? It was going to happen anyway. Your managers have been talking about releasing the news about your relationship. You've always delayed it though. Not for any particular reason. Maybe you weren't ready, just not yet.

you text felix back to let him know that you were in fact going. You didn't decide to ask why he invited you over, knowing the chances of getting caught is higher then it ever will be.

Opting to take a shower before you go, changing into clean clothes before going on your way.

When you get into your car, you were still a little bit skeptical of going over there. Would It be bad for you to just ask him to come over instead?

You ignore all those thoughts and start driving. The dorms aren't that far from you. So you reach there practically in 10 minutes.

You hesitate when you reach to the door. Wondering if you should just call him and let him know you are here.

You open your phone to call him, but before you can even open the app someone opens the door.

"Hi princess" you almost jumped at the sound of the door. Sighing of relief when you see it's felix.

He tells you to come in. Locking the door behind him.

Taking off your shoes you go into the living room while he says he has to finish up some things in the kitchen.

As you sit down you try to listen closely to see if you hear anybody in the dorms. It's not like you didn't know stray kids per se- you helped choreograph some of their dances. But it doesn't mean you guys are necessarily close.

Simply scrolling on your phone, you feel felix come up behind the couch and wrap his arms around you.

"You're hovering"

"I am not hovering" flashing a smile before adjusting to sit next to you.

"You're nervous, hm?" grabbing your leg, motioning for you to sit on his lap.

"Felix, you—" pausing to resituate yourself."—we both know that they can come back at anytime. What if th-"

You were fidgeting, moving around side to side in his lap before you cut yourself off.

“if you stare any harder I think you’ll bore holes into my skull” you laughed trying to get back to your original point.

“sorry, you kept movi- what do you expect? You look pretty right now ”

"What?" Confusion laced your voice. You were wearing basic clothes. And some lipgloss, nothing that would make you look elegant.

His lips meets yours in a delicate manner. A slow but firm kiss. His hands travel down to grab your hips, pulling you a little bit closer.

You pull away first, looking straight at felix."You still didn't answer my question"

"That was the answer" he leans back in for another kiss.

It was different. This is different.

The familiar movement of his lips is gone. The Original gentle and feathery kisses he gave you, your lips moving softly against his. Light touches here and there. This? This is the complete opposite. The kisses he's giving you now fast paced and impatient. His hands moving around trying to grab onto the hem of your shirt.

You're surprised. The messy and aggressive kiss is nothing compared to the way he's groping you.

His hands let go of your shirt, slowly moving his hands up and down the sides of your body before he stops. Stopping at the feeling of your ass against his hands. Squeezing it as if he's never going to again.

Your hands try and find something to grasp. Leaning forward to deepen the kiss while meticulously trying to unzip his pants.

Its not like you didn't feel him getting a hard-on when you were moving around in his lap. You simply decided to ignore it.

You almost get the zipper down before you hear someone clear their throat.

"Felix, __?" A young man spoke, they spoke with confusion lining their voice. You didn't bother do look up. You already knew who it was.

"Minho" Felix replied same tone that the man had before.

You peeked your head up to see who was there but quickly put it back down when you saw seungmin as well as jeongin standing in the hallway

"I hate you right now" whispering into his ear before lightly slapping his arm.

"You guys are dating? I assume?" minho asked, trying not to laugh.

The idea of the rest of the boys finding out was already terrifying, but them finding out like this? Made you want to disappear.

Felix hummed before tapping your leg, hinting for you to get up.

Everyone goes back to their business, you and felix at his door when you hear another voice.

"You guys weren't about to fuck on our couch right..." jeongin questioned, putting his coat and bag down.

"We weren't? yea we weren't." opening the door you tug felix in there, closing the door with your back.

You felt like your heart was in your throat. You were anxious. But something deep inside you is making you feel as if the people outside didn't matter. Or you'd let them watch.

You look down slightly to see his boner threatening to pop out.

"did that turn you on?”

“shut the fuck up” he muttered, capturing your lips in another sloppy kiss. That nervous feeling dissappears into a eager feeling. Desperate to feel his touch on you. You say you want anything he gives you, but you know you're lying. You want him. You want him to touch you and feel you up infront of other people. Make them know how good he makes you feel.

You snap out of your trance from felix removing his lips from yours, trailing them down your neck softly biting the skin there.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Its nothing" trying to not let your dirty or borderline filthy fantasy out.

"Are you sure?" he quirks his eyebrow before harshly biting the are that seemingly connects your neck to your collarbone.

"a-ah yea I'm good" You yourself don't even think you were convincing. The slight waver in your voice mad you cringe. Cringe at how you suck at hiding things.

He looks up at you before continuing his next sentence"So maybe I should bring minho to watch me fuck that 'nothing' right out right? I'm sure you'd like that." He tries to act all nonchalant, but you can hear how hard he's breathing and feel his cock that's pressing against your thigh.

"what- what are you talking about?" letting out a slight laugh attempting to redirect the way thus conversation is going.

"We both know what I'm talking about. Besides—" he cuts himself off to move closer. Closer to your ear and whispers the last part of his sentence. "I'd like to see them watch me while I fuck you real good.he gives you a peck on your ear lobe, simultaneously moving to his bed.

"Come on baby tell me what you want."

"I— I don't know I.." you could've used whatever self control you have left, turn this around and milk him of everything he's got. But you choose otherwise.

While Putting two fingers on your tongue. He asks a simple question.

"You want me right here?" Moving his fingers back until you start gagging. You try and say something but it came.out incomprehensible.

"What was that? Cant understand."

"No I, not there please"

He travels his hand down towards your breast lightly cupping it.

"How about here? You want me to touch you here?" he caresses the skin softly waiting for you to give an answer. But when you don't he pinches your nipple through the shirt.

"I asked you a question. You should answer it."

"yes— I mean no, not there." Your words are coming out of your mouth faster than you'd like it to.

Grabbing the band of your pants, he started pulling it down to your ankles then officially off.

He brings his hands right above where you need him most.

"If you're not gonna tell me, you show me where you want me." His voice is always deep, yes. But this time it's raspy. Like if he had just woken up for work in the morning.

You slowly take his hand in yours and drag in downwards.

"Here, please lix I need it." You whined into your other hand that was attempting to cover your face.

His fingers are tracing all over your cunt. Drawing figure 8s over your panties.

"I suppose I can make this work" he shoots you a soft smile, telling you to take your shirt off.

He stands up to do the same thing, sliding off his pants aswell.

He sits back down against the headboard patting his thigh for you to come sit.

"You think I'm gonna do all the work? Come on baby" Rubbing your sides, every once in a while going lower and Grabbing your ass.

"Lix they are outside still. I mean what if they hear us." You still try to get him to believe you. Believe you wouldn't care if they saw.Even though you wouldn't mind them hearing you. Or maybe watching you from a crack in the door.

"You’re such a whore for me, I like it.” he pulled your panties to the side, sliding his finger through your folds.

"Shit, baby you could've just told me you wanted them to watch. I would've obliged" he does that stupid smile again. The one where he knows he's right. Where he knows he's getting to you.

Sliding you back,he pulls his underwear down slightly to free his cock.

You didn't mean to stare, you just kinda zoned out. He gave it a slight squeeze, shivering when a bead of pre-cum leaked out.

"we don't have all day" he leans back in for another kiss while he taps your thigh telling you to lift yourself up.

He nudges the tip against your clit, rubbing it up and down. Head catching the hole sometimes before he pushes in.

You start moving, slowly getting use to the length inside of you. Holding onto his shoulders trying to get a grip on anything around you.

"Good job baby. You can go faster hm?" His voice wobbly while he tries to maintain a straight face. Staring into your eyes unbothered like he isn't twitching inside of you. You know he's turned on. The fact that the boys caught him in the act makes him swell. In reality he wouldn't have an issue if one wanted to peek into his room while you ruin him aswell.

You try to go faster, do a good job but you cant. Your thighs start shaking. Tears welling your eyes before you fall back into his lap.

"Im s-sorry I can't" you whine, head in his neck. Gently suckling on it.

“what? You want me to go deeper? Or go harder?”

Silence. It was suddenly quiet in here, besides the sounds of your panting. You didn't want to admit he got to you. That them watching you could turn you on so much.

"Ah I see" he brings you off his cock onto your back before sliding back in.

"s-shit" the lewd sounds of his balls slapping your thighs along with his low, rough grunts are almost enough to push you over the edge.

Almost.

You felt drunk. Everything around you was blurry. Your senses were heightened. You try to close your legs. So close, the pleasure getting to your brain.

"open your legs pretty." You didn't listen. Looking up at him with a glassy look in your eye silently telling him what you need.

He forces your legs open, jaw going slack when he fucks back into you.

"I know you wanna cum, do it. Nobody's stopping you."

The way he's touching you and thrusting into you. Makes you want more.

You don't give a warning when you cum. Your mouth setting a hard line trying to not let any noise out.

"Good girl" he rubs your clit. Bringing you through your orgasm as he continues fucking you.

It doesn't take long for him to cum either. 2,3 more thrusts before he settles in you. Hips meeting as he leans down to bite your neck, silencing his moans.

He pulls out, telling you he's gonna get a wet cloth and he'd be right back.

He puts on his pants before opening the door seeing seungmin sitting on the couch.

"I'm so telling chan"

"I figured."

#stray kids #surfinminho #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids smut #dom!lee felix

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smutwritersstuff · 1 year ago

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disclaimer! everyone in this series is of age and yes the cannon events are a tad bit off, I don't feel comfortable writing about such strong subjects with minors. thank you for understanding. this series DOES contain heavy themes of emotional abuse, mentioning of anxiety disorder, mentioning of eating disorders, drug use, and a bunch of other really heavy topics... please DO NOT read if sensitive to these issues.

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⤷ 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

S1, E1: "Pretend you love me."

y/n comes home after spending the summer with her mom in France, away from her brothers but Voldemort has some news for her… whether she likes it or not.

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The daughter of Voldemort was finally coming home after 3 months away from home. She had stayed with her mom in France, exploring the country from deep cities to forests and greenery... of course, nothing lasts forever.

Here she is, sitting in the car that her father had ordered for her to pick her up from the airport, questioning "What if I hadn't come back?"

"Almost there, Ms. Y/N." The driver peaked in the rearview mirror, glancing at her numb expression.

She replied with a simple "Thank you."

It did feel nice to get away from magical London for a bit... but magical France? That was a dream. She'd give anything to go back right now, anything to not face her father.

When she first told her father about the plan to go stay with her mother all through the summer, he got angry. Of course, he was angry... his only daughter trying to broaden her horizons to see that this isn't the only life she could lead... harming muggle-borns, exterminating muggles?

When she was young, y/n definitely would've said "Yeah, muggles are terrible." but now that she grew up, and interacted with a few muggles, she understood that people shouldn't be judged based on their blood status. Of course, she'd never admit any of this... she couldn't defile the family name as "blood-traitors" when her father was the Dark Lord, and her brothers were next in line to take over the Death Eaters...

The car had pulled into the driveway of the house, and the driver set the car in park. "We're here, Ms. Y/N."

Again, a simple and concise "Thank you." escaped her lips as she had gotten out of the car.

“Ah! Y/N! Welcome home.” your oldest brother, Tom, came to greet you at the door. He must’ve seen the car pulling up in the driveway and rushed to get you. “How was your mom’s?”

“It was beautiful, really…” she replied, holding her arms out in a hug which he quickly reciprocated. “Where’s dad?”

“He’s with Tom, they went to talk to the Malfoys.” Mattheo said, dropping the hug. “Do you need help with your bags?”

The driver was unloading the trunk of the car, the suitcases were being pulled out… and then all of the feelings she tried to escape sunk back into her head and body.

“That’d be great, thank you.” she said, looking down at the graveled driveway and then up to the large, dark house.

“Go on up to your room, I’ll take care of it.”

▃▃▃▃▃ !— Her room —! ▃▃▃▃▃

You turned on the light switch, only to find your room was exactly the same as you left it, ink and an unfinished letter sitting on your desk. The black bedsheets with matching pillows and blankets, along with a stuffed animal you had gotten at your first year at Hogwarts. The clothes that haven’t been traveled with still in your wardrobe. Your private bathroom still as glamorous as you had left it, the curtains were tied back with a silver rope.

You were back home and that meant only one thing… school was starting soon.

The feelings all set in again, the expectations that your father has of you is too much. He expects you to step up and lead the army of Death Eaters when he becomes unable to… meaning if the boy who lived defeated him… to be honest, that’s what you wanted. As cruel as it is to say, you wish Harry would’ve just killed him already… your life would be much easier.

Barely even an hour home and you already want to go back to France, you missed your mom. From everything you’ve heard about her from your father, you expected her to be a vile, evil, self centered woman with a wicked heart… but she was nothing like he described.

You closed your eyes and laid down on your bed, bundling yourself up in the comfort of your blankets that still had remnants of your perfume. Feeling like a hopeless child, you muffled your sobs into the plush fabric of the blankets, tears hitting your pillowcase.

The life you were born into has all been planned for you… no one had ever asked you what you wanted. You wanted to be different but now it seems like you’re stuck in this predicament… stuck in the hell that your father trapped you in and your brothers were stuck right there with you.

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THANK YOU SM FOR READING!!! 🩶🩶 i kinda ditched this series for a bit bcs i’ve been in my dr so much trying to get everything I can and put it into a series! I love u all sm and please please please reblog & follow bcs i’m gonna start posting more regularly <33

msg me to be on the tag list!!

#draco lucius malfoy #authors #harry potter #draco #draco malfoy #mattheo riddle #draco x y/n #y/n y/l/n #tom riddle #matt riddle #tom marvolo riddle #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #hogwarts shifting #voldemort #lord voldemort #daughter of voldemort

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hyukassubi · 1 month ago

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🪡 17 | The ‘S’ In ‘Seamstress’ Stands For ‘Soulmate’

♡𓂃 Pairing -> (Former) Knight! Huening Kai x Seamstress! Reader

♡𓂃 Synopsis -> Growing up, you never believed in purpose, nor destiny. Simply following the path of life, becoming a royal seamstress didn't at all seem like a bad idea. Only thing is, it wasn't your idea.

Your best friend who just so happens to be the crowned prince knows what it's like to grow up having limited choices, and Prince Kang Taehyun doesn't want the same happening to you. The commander knight, in turn, has other plans for the future. After Huening Kai closes a profound chapter of his life, he seeks refuge from the chaos of his past, opting for a cozier lifestyle instead.

... And it just so seems that those plans wouldn't be fulfilled without you.

♡𓂃 Wc -> 944

Newsreading over espresso on an early autumn morning while ignoring the helpless screeching of crows wasn’t how Taehyun pictured his career to go, yet he’s doing exactly that over his bedroom balcony, Beomgyu next to him mixing up a slimy concoction with plastic utensils.

Above here, with this view, Taehyun often times sits here in silence, villain-face on, seething.

At least that’s what it looks like.

“How long did you say the dye will last? A few years?” Taehyun flips the pages of the newspaper, a brief run down of all the other princes of neighbouring kingdoms having achieved something. Something ‘great’, starting generational movements, so to speak.

Taehyun, unironically, did not care.

Beomgyu whisked away the slime, “As long as you’d like it to last!... Hopefully.” and then whispers to himself as quietly as he can, which isn’t at all quiet. “… needs more pink… needs more glitter…”

Taehyun snapped his eyes back at Beomgyu, “You are not adding glitter into the dye.”

“Oh yes I am!”

“…”

”… Please?”

”…”

“…FIne—”

“A pinch, and no more.” Taehyun said in all seriousness, pointer finger to the sky sliding from left to right. “I want my hair looking like strawberry froyo, not the Milky Way galaxy.”

Beomgyu continues stirring until a thick grime of pink bubbles up inside of the bowl, knowing all too well everything after this will go smoothly.

Everything will be okay.

Dying the prince’s hair pink was the last thing you expected to do today.

There, at your door stood Crowned Prince Taehyun eighteen and inching… so subtly… over you. Like, you actually had to tilt your head backwards to look at his face, which, in the trajectory of your whole friendship, you’ve never done before?

All you could do was blink, wondering for a second why that mattered as much as it did now…

“I’m sorry, me? Dying your hair?” A featherpen and yellowing-paper sits at your desk, Taehyun had noticed, not the usual sets of fabrics and needle plushes and boards hung up full of rough design drafts.

Even the sight of that alone was refreshing for him. “Yes queen, you’re the chosen one.”

You could’ve asked him, ‘Me?’

‘…Why?’

’Why me?’

‘There’s a whole lot of hairstylists out there so why me?’

The next couple of words that came out of your mouth went a little something like this:

“Hm, I guess I’ll give it a shot.”

It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

You and Taehyun, Taehyun and you. Together. Nearing the pond over a picnic blanket, watching as its miniscule waves brush by the grass.

Taehyun, in all his princeliness, allowing the warm sun to kiss his skin given that spring has arrived just days ago.

You, his seamstress, pick apart at his hair, clipping random uneven bunches up using neon heart-hair clips.

You can’t help but ask. “Pink? Of all colours, you chose pink?”

“That sounds kinda sexist, the way you’re wording it.”

“No, I just thought… well, since you’re unofficially the prince of sass, maybe… purple would suit you better?”

“Purple?”

“I dunno, any colour that screams ‘I mean serious business, don’t even try me’.”

Taehyun smiled and… it was the first time in a long time you saw the prince light up the way he did, still unsure whether it was real or out of habit but… was that a bad thing?

“I guess that would fit me… but no.” Taehyun stares blankly into the pond, “I wanted to go for something… softer. Something different. Because people change, don’t they?”

“So… you’re dethroning yourself from that Prince of Sass position?”

“As if. No one will ever replace me but… there’s so much more you haven’t… we haven’t…”

There it was, in his eyes lied a certain emptiness that never quite sat there before:

Yearning.

The mixing of the pink sludge in the plastic bowl came to an excruciatingly long stop, or at least it felt that way. The way realization hit you, that, the more time went by, the more focused you were on your career, the more the people who once brought meaning into your life seemed to have grown, too.

And you weren’t there to watch it.

Taehyun didn’t drastically change, he was the same old prince from before… was he?

"…We haven't really talked in a really long time." You mindlessly mention. "I can't remember the last time we..." talked.

When Huening Kai left, when was it really, the last time you even saw the prince?

And instead of hating you for it, instead of belittling you or shaming you for being such a blind-sighted ‘friend’, he says slowly, "It isn't your fault. None of it is. I'm looking forward to spending more time in the future with you." you're all I have, the only special thing I have, he didn't mention.

Somehow, you can feel those words unspoken.

The rest of the afternoon was spent painting strands of hair pink and choking down silent tears.

Yeonjun came into the tent in a white tank and cropped joggers half-eaten by the dragon on their previous joint slay, toothbrush in hand, toothpaste foaming in his mouth. “Commander cutie patootie Kaiiii, we’re ordering drinks right now do you wan— Oh my—” Yeonjun’s toothbrush fell out of his hand and santa beard smothered his chin.

On a hammock (Yeonjun bought solely for his Commander), Huening Kai laid there buried in at least ten thousand sheets of paper and five plushies on his bedside.

“Can’t talk right now.” He flips to read another letter Yeonjun has never seen in his life. “I’m doing hot boy things.”

Yeonjun zipped the front of the tent shut.

♡𓂃Tags: @sweetheartsaku @imcringebutimfree @i-like-to-read-at-4am @pengningie @marloree @stormy1408 @blossommi

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Reblog & review if you like my work !!

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daisiesonafield-blog · 2 years ago

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Louis Tomlinson is sequestered in the executive boardroom of a swanky hotel in suburban London, and is treating it the way a pupil might a classroom when the teacher’s popped out. He’s leaning back on his chair, feet up on a radiator, hands clasped behind his head and a cigarette on the go. “All right?” he says, grinning impishly.

Despite huge global success with One Direction (70 million albums sold), which prompted a fanaticism that made Beatlemania look tame, he seems remarkably unaffected and far more normal than one might expect from someone with 35.8 million Twitter followers. He’s a 31-year-old so unassumingly bloke-next-door that the bloke next door wouldn’t look twice.

“I’ve always had a problem with ‘ego’,” he says, “and I’ve always been worried about being one of those people in the public eye who just loses all sense of reality, and becomes an arsehole.” As if by way of explanation, he adds: “I’m from Doncaster.”

And so while his former 1D bandmate Harry Styles, a superstar, floats through life like the fashion world’s favourite clothes horse, Tomlinson kits himself out in JD Sports: Kappa T-shirt, black sweatpants, Adidas socks, scuffed trainers. When he tells you he often frequents his local pub unmolested, you believe him.

“If someone does come up after an hour to ask for a selfie, I won’t say no and I won’t run away,” he says, “’specially if I’m three pints deep!”

Of the five members of 1D, Tomlinson has had the slowest start to a solo career. There are compelling reasons for this — family tragedy for one — but he’s also had to figure out who he is without the band around him. “With this job,” he says, “there’s so much room for overthinking, you know? Someone from the record label will tell you they like your stuff, but you find yourself thinking: yeah, but do they? It’s the fans that help you really believe in yourself.”

In the band, Zayn Malik had the best voice and Styles had the best everything else. While the other three — Tomlinson, Liam Payne and Niall Horan — were hardly driftwood, each has nevertheless had to dig deep to carve out a solo persona that would compel beyond the bubble.

“I do miss the boys,” he says, “and I do definitely miss being one of the five, but I like doing my own thing too. It was time.”

It’s a bright winter’s day, and the man in sports casual is enjoying special dispensation here in the hotel: permission to light up. Had this been denied, there might well have been a problem, for Tomlinson chain-smokes with the wild abandon of Mad Men’s Don Draper.

After the release of his second solo album, Faith in the Future, in November, he adds another necessary notch in the belt of any self-respecting pop star next month: the documentary. All of Those Voices is a routine behind-the-scenes look at 21st-century celebrity but stands out for the multiple crises of confidence Tomlinson feels any time he’s not on stage.

“This is a confidence game for anyone,” he says earnestly, “and there’s been plenty of moments of vulnerability throughout the entire process.” An overriding concern of the documentary is not just whether people would be interested in him, but whether they’d take him, someone discovered on a TV talent show, seriously.

When Styles won his Grammy awards this month — he collected two and won four Brits — he used his acceptance speech to say that “this doesn’t happen to people like me very often”. This was swiftly ridiculed across social media because of course white men tend to win quite a lot. But what he likely meant was that it doesn’t happen to the product of manufactured boy bands, many of whom have the use-by date of a pint of milk.

“Only Harry knows what he means there, it’s hard to speculate,” Tomlinson says, “but we all came from relatively humble beginnings, and now we are where we are.”

But while Styles is a once-in-a-generation talent and knows it, his erstwhile bandmates — and this one in particular — need convincing.

Louis Tomlinson comes from a big family — his mother, Johannah Deakin, married twice and had seven children — and was a hopeful child actor before in 2010 auditioning for The X Factor. This is where 1D were created, “masterminded” by Louis Walsh. Deakin, who had Tomlinson when she was 19, was his biggest fan and they’d always been close. When, for example, Tomlinson lost his virginity, it was she he told first, not his friends.

In 2016, a year after One Direction split, she died from leukaemia, aged 42. Two years later, his 18-year-old sister, Félicité, who’d been struggling to get over her mother’s death, accidentally overdosed on cocaine, painkillers and an anxiety drug. The combined loss hit him hard. Aside from the single he wrote about his mother’s passing, 2020’s Two of Us, his mourning has been largely private.

He squints through a veil of cigarette smoke. “Some of the things that have happened recently have been quite drastic, yeah, but then so much in my life seems to have been pretty extreme, one way or the other.” In 2016, at the age of 25, a brief relationship with a Californian stylist, Briana Jungwirth, resulted in a son. “There’ve been challenging times, definitely. It’s funny, but I couldn’t even tell you how many years ago my mum passed, I just blank it out. But for the first 18 months, I’d take any form of bad luck personally. I’d feel every tiny thing. But now I genuinely feel I’ve come out the other side. I feel more empathy for everything and everyone these days.”

After his 2020 debut album, Walls, failed to set the world alight, Tomlinson called time on his relationship with Simon Cowell. “It was mostly amicable,” he says, nodding. “Simon always had my best interests at heart, and I liked him. He had his faults of course, like all of us, but it was always inevitable I’d have to go off and do my own thing.”

His new record, then, was a leap into the unknown and he elected to write not with professional songwriters but rather fellow creative artists: Theo Hutchcraft from the band Hurts, Joe Cross from the Courteeners and the singer-songwriter James Vincent McMorrow. “And that was a big difference, huge. These are people who live and breathe music. It’s the first time I felt really comfortable doing my own stuff, you know?”

Previously he’d been encouraged to sing like a nice young pop star should, without regional inflection. “When I was in the band,” he says, “working with professional songwriters whose entire aim was to write the hit single, they’d tell me that singing in my natural accent wasn’t commercial. Sorry, but what a shit idea! Who wants to sound like everybody else? I dumbed down a little bit in the band, because you do, but I’ve learnt who I am now.”

The album, which has its inspiration firmly in early Noughties indie, sounds more Kaiser Chiefs than One Direction. A risk, then. But when it came out, it debuted at No 1. While this did wonders for his confidence, it’s clear from the documentary that he still needs people — a support group — around him. He actively courts the friendship of his touring band, not necessarily a given among solo pop stars, and he seems almost always sociable. It’s when he’s not up for group activity that people worry. There’s a revealing moment in the documentary of him having just appeared on James Corden’s US talk show. Backstage Corden, an old friend, pleads with him not to go quiet on him afterwards. “You vanish, you change your number, no one knows [where you are],” he says.

Until recently Tomlinson lived in London with his long-term girlfriend, the model Eleanor Calder, but recent reports suggest they’ve split up and he’s dating another model, Sofie Nyvang. Life, clearly, is complicated. Perhaps that’s why he smokes so much. He says, though, that he feels finally relieved of the myriad pressures that once clung to being a pop star whose fanbase was predominantly teenage. Such as?

“Well, being a role model for one. I never wanted that. I always had to worry whether it was OK if, say, I was seen here or if I could get away with smoking a joint there, before concluding: hmm, probably not. But I never wanted to be the perfect pop star, especially in the climate of Instagram. I don’t want to put an artificial world out there. I think it’s important that people see your scars, your flaws.”

It’s never easy growing up in public and Tomlinson had no choice. “When One Direction split up,” he says, “I was mortified, I was absolutely gutted. I was a bit bitter, I suppose because it just felt like another loss to me. But I’ve a better understanding of things now, and there’s not as much anger. It is what it is.

“Getting back together at some point is hard to imagine right now,” he continues, “but I’d be surprised if we lived out our lives and didn’t have a moment where we had a reunion, or whatever you want to call it. I’d be up for that.”

When I ask what it’s like watching Styles’s ascendance into the biggest star of his generation — something that might delay such a reunion — he blows out a long plume of smoke.

“Well, it’s not a surprise is it? We were always aware that Harry fit that mould, and it’s been an amazing thing to watch. Envy? At the start maybe, when I was trying to find my feet, but it’s never healthy to cross-reference your own success with others is it? These days I’m learning to elevate myself in those moments when I have to. I didn’t know how to do that before, but now? Now I know I f***ing can.” All of Those Voices is in cinemas from March 22, allofthosevoices.com

-Full article. Feb 23 2023. Link here. Free link here.

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theharrowing · 2 years ago

Text

Collateral 🗡️ 12: Loose lips sink ships

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon 🗡️ word count: 11.6k 🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+ 🗡️ chapter warnings: the return of our favorite gossip girl Felix, graphic descriptions of violence (use of incendiary device to start fire, use of kunai knives and glass to stab & slit throats, use of drugs to force an overdose, smothering), sleep paralysis nightmare, fingering and face-sitting in the garden, joonbug is a real softie, 2seok are up to something. 🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin! <3 🗡️ posted on jan. 2023 | read on ao3 🗡️ note: happy new year, friends! so excited to kick off 2023 with a chapter of my beloved Collateral! this chapter was fun to write, and it is introducing so many things that will be important for the rest of the story. the descriptions of violence in this one are pretty wild, so please be ready!

Light pours into Yoongi's bedroom, and you grumble as you stretch your arms over your head, feeling the final dredges of sleep wash away to wakefulness. The bed is empty, and the light pouring in is still soft with hints of pink, signifying dawn, so you assume that the men had gotten up much earlier and probably will not be back until afternoon.

Feeling hunger pangs in the pit of your stomach, you grumble and concede to getting out of the warmth of the giant, lonely bed, to make your way into the kitchen for something to eat. Perhaps Felix or Changbin will be around to join you—though you still feel put off by the latter's behavior the last time you saw him, you would still welcome his company.

As you push the heavy door open, making your way out into the balcony, you find two bodies sitting on the bench outside your bedroom door. However, neither are the men you expected.

Seokjin sits tall in a burgundy three-piece suit with one leg crossed over the other, holding his phone as if he is watching something on the screen. Beside him, Hoseok is dressed in his standard black garb with his head on Seokjin's shoulder, smiling at whatever he is looking at. Suddenly, you feel exposed walking out in only one of Namjoon's oversized black shirts and panties, and you take a step back to rethink your attire and consider putting on some of Yoongi's sweatpants.

However, before you can make it back into the safety of the master bedroom, Seokjin looks up and, with a grin, clicks his phone off and keeps his attention on you.

"Well, well," he mutters, "if it isn't the wolf cub we were hoping to see."

You rock on your heels, still deciding whether or not to excuse yourself into Yoongi's room, but Hoseok sits up straight, and Seokjin stands, both with their eyes fixed on you.

"Come," Seokjin says, slipping his phone into his front pocket while holding out his free hand. "I have something I would like to discuss with you."

"Oh," you mutter, reluctantly stepping forward and padding over to the men. "Okay."

"Before we begin," Seokjin says, moving into your personal space and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. Seokjin wears an expensive-smelling cologne—woody and musky with fruity and floral notes; more feminine than you would expect. "This proposition I have for you...it has to stay between us."

"What do you mean?" you mutter as Hoseok stands before you with a pointed stare.

"We have devised a plan to spy on the rival family," Seokjin says.

"Yoongi's ex," Hoseok adds, though you already know.

"But in order for this plan to work, Yoongi mustn't know."

You hum, already feeling trepidation over doing something behind Yoongi's back that involves mafia activity. Especially considering the Shin family is all the way in Busan; how would they suppose you can spy on them?

"We have a little bird on the inside," Hoseok continues, "but he is afraid to get too close."

"We were thinking," Seokjin says, "that if we could get you into her home, you would be able to get a lot more information."

You shake your head. Into her home? Absolutely not. Not to mention—

"How would we get me into her home without him knowing?"

"Deception on both sides, of course," Seokjin answers as if it is nothing. "Yoongi gets word that you are feeling suffocated and cooped up, and you need to take a vacation. I offer to set everything up—as I am wont to do—and we send you to Busan."

"And Ryujin?" you ask incredulously. "She has already seen my face. How would we get me into her house?"

Hoseok shrugs. "Someone leaks information that you are being abused and need somewhere safe to hide from the Min family. She's a softie; she'll take you."

The thought of framing Yoongi as abusive to win his ex's favor settles like a brick in the pit of your stomach, and you tense in Seokjin's hold, clenching and relaxing your fists at your sides. In an attempt to play it off, you shrug and scoff, rolling your eyes as you glance from Hoseok to Seokjin.

"A softie? She sent men to beat your boxer to death, and to attack Jimin. I would hardly call her a softie."

"Compared to what your hubby does," Hoseok snarls playfully, "that's nothing."

A shiver runs through you at the word hubby. Something about it stirs your insides in all the worst possible ways. Setting that aside, the plan seems foolish. How long do they expect you to feign being on vacation? Getting to know someone well enough to spy on them is something you imagine would take months, if not a year, at least.

"This plan is terrible," you respond, turning away from Seokjin and letting his arm fall away from your shoulder. "I can't imagine I will be able to gather as much intel on her in the timespan of...whatever a getaway is."

Hoseok shrugs. "So we tell him you're on sabbatical."

"It won't work," you insist. "Yoongi is far too clingy for that."

Seokjin hums, and you turn to find him studying you with squinted eyes.

"If I revise the plan and make it more believable, would you reconsider?"

There is a part of you that wants to say yes, if only as payback for what they did to Jimin. But there is no way someone as possessive as Yoongi would let you leave. And even if he were foolish enough not to see through the lie, you doubt that Namjoon would be.

"If it is actually a believable plan then yes, I will reconsider."

Both men smile, and Seokjin reaches to pat you on the shoulder. He shares a knowing glance and says, "Loose lips sink ships," before turning to walk down the stairs.

"See you soon, little cub," Hoseok sing-songs, following close behind.

You sit on the bench outside your bedroom door, feeling the soft upholstery on your thighs, and wait for them to get enough of a head start before making your way to the kitchen. Part of you hopes that Yoongi has been around all along, rendering the whole conversation moot so you can all move on and forget about it altogether. But, when you finally do make your way downstairs, toward the kitchen, the main hall is empty, and the mansion is quiet.

After a small breakfast of cereal and fruit, you walk into the main hall to find Felix at the entrance, kicking off his shoes. You fail to hold back a squeal as you run through the hall, and Felix looks up with a wide smile, holding his arms wide to catch you.

"Hello," Felix beams in his deep voice, Australian accent adding unnecessary consonants—something you have missed dearly.

"Poolside!" you shout as you step out of the hug. "Champagne and catching up! Don't say no!"

"I wouldn't dream of saying no," Felix responds, rubbing a palm over the top of your head as if you are a child. To his credit, you are still running around in nothing but a giant t-shirt and underwear, which seems like something a child might do.

With a mock-offended groan, you swat Felix's hand away and turn, running for the stairs. Although Felix follows behind, his footsteps are much slower, taking his time. You slam your bedroom door open and jet into the closet, tugging Namjoon's shirt off as soon as you are safe around the corner of the walk-in, and fling open a drawer that contains bathing suits.

Grabbing a black two-piece, you hardly give it a glance as you hop out of your panties and into the suit, then you yank the first baby blue sun dress you see from its hanger and unceremoniously pull it over your head, spinning it several times around your neck before your arms line up with the correct holes.

Felix appears in the doorway in swim shorts and a tee.

"I wore the trunks here knowing you would wanna swim," he says as you pad over.

"Of course you did," you mutter in response, delighted by how predictable you are, and the two of you bound down the stairs.

The moment you step outside, the bartender approaches, and you wonder if the poor guy ever takes time off—what must his hours be like? At least he has the wherewithal to leave the open bottle behind right away, saving himself a trip. It only takes two glasses of bubbly before your lips are too loose for your own good—ignoring Seokjin's earlier advice.

"Is the mansion bugged?" you ask as you hold your champagne flute to your lips.

Felix's eyes widen, and he stares unblinkingly for several seconds. "Why do you ask?"

With a shrug, you mutter, "Just curious."

"Are you having conversations you don't want master Yoongi to hear?"

With a scoff, you shake your head and mutter, "Please do not call him that," making Felix laugh.

"On the contrary," you continue, "I may have overheard a conversation that I wonder if he should know about."

You do not want to divulge what Seokjin and Hoseok said to you up on the second-floor balcony, and attempt to separate yourself from the conversation. All good lies come from a place of truth, after all.

"But you don't want to snitch," Felix suggests with a grin.

"Of course."

"Because snitches get stitches."

You chuckle as you say, "So I have heard," then you gulp back the rest of your champagne. Felix finishes his, as well, and takes your glass to refill it.

"No," he continues as he pours, "the mansion is not bugged, save for the dining halls, I believe—rooms where meetings with outsiders may take place. But, as far as I know, those systems are only switched on when needed."

You nod and accept your full glass, taking a sip.

"Yoongi trusts his men implicitly. So if the conversation you overheard was between two of them, then you may want to sow some seeds of discontent, making Yoongi investigate on his own. Or record any future conversations they may have."

"Do any of the family men need Yoongi's approval to enter the mansion when he's not here?” you ask, eager to sway the conversation.

Felix shakes his head. “The family men have twenty-four-hour access. And the retina scanner pings Yoongi’s phone so he always knows who is coming in and going out.”

“I suppose you also have access, since your room is upstairs.”

Felix blinks at you several times as if confused, then chuckles and shakes his head.

“We only occupy that room when Yoongi wants constant watch over someone. Changbin and I live elsewhere, on a nearby property.”

“Oh,” you mutter. That explains why you have not seen either of them in a while.

“And we do not have constant access. Yoongi sends us a code for the door that changes daily, so we can only come in on days when he wants us to.”

You suppose you should not be too surprised that Yoongi is paranoid even of his security staff. He is, after all, more powerful than even you still realize, but something about it is a bit unsettling…though, what that something is, is hard to put your finger on. You decide, instead, to sway the conversation a bit.

"And the parties that used to take place out here? Which have all but stopped."

"Mostly Jeongguk and Taehyung's doing, as far as I know," Felix responds. "But ever since the whole ecstasy fiasco, they stopped letting people over. And with Jeongguk getting stabbed..."

Felix trails off, and you find yourself biting back a smirk. It is, of course, not funny that Jeongguk got stabbed, but whenever you remember a very exasperated Seokjin carrying him over his shoulder while Jeongguk was high out of his mind, you cannot help but feel amused. He is fine, after all.

"What...was all that about?" you ask, wondering if Felix can even tell you. "Namjoon and I met up with Changkyun once to beat some information out of a couple of guys, but I haven’t heard Namjoon or Yoongi mention it since.”

The surprise in Felix's voice takes you off guard. "Yoongi never told you?"

You shake your head and shrug. "No, but, to be fair, I never asked. And we have had other things come up, I suppose."

After a pause, Felix asks, "Are you sure you wanna know?"

You nod, wide-eyed and eager, and you must really look silly because Felix chuckles and shakes his head.

"The whole thing feels like a scene from a movie, honestly; it was so weird hearing about it that I almost didn't believe it was real. Even while I watched it, myself, it felt too insane."

Anticipation hangs, and you watch as Felix stares at you with a grin. You kick his shin and urge him to continue.

"Alright, alright," he says. "But it gets pretty...gruesome at times. So stop me if you need to."

"I'm a big girl," you tease, "I can handle myself."

"Yeah?" Felix challenges with a raise of his eyebrows. "Do you know how many men Jeongguk killed that night?"

Until this very moment, you were unaware that Jeongguk had killed anyone that night. You shake your head as your eyebrows knit—the concern written on your face only seeming to delight your friend all the more.

"Fifteen," Felix says slowly, drawing out each syllable.

"Fif—what?"

With an eager nod, Felix takes a gulp of his champagne and begins. "Apparently he had these ecstasy pills that were laced with meth, and he popped two of them, drank down a bunch of whiskey, snorted a pile of cocaine and just went ape shit on a room full of men who were linked to the one guy who ripped him off."

Your mouth hangs around words like who and what and how but nothing comes out.

"I watched the security footage, so everything I am about to tell you is the truth. And you need to believe me when I say it is the craziest shit I have ever seen. At one point, Jeongguk reached into his shirt and pulled out a kunai knife that he twirled on the end of his finger. And over the course of the fight, he pulled out several more, so I don't know if he had like a bandolier of them strapped to his chest, or something."

"Kunai?" you ask in disbelief, and when Felix nods, you add, "Like, from Naruto?"

This makes Felix double over, spilling some of the champagne from his glass.

"Yes!" he shouts as his head hangs between his knees. "Like from Naruto!"

The idea is so funny that you join Felix in laughter; you know that kunai is a real weapon, but you have never actually seen them used outside of television. Of course, the fact that Jeongguk used these knives to at least kill some of the fifteen men is hardly funny, but the visual is just ridiculous. What kind of person is Jeongguk? This is a question you find yourself thinking about often. What goes on inside his head?

"Okay," Felix says, sitting up with tears in his eyes. "I will spare you all of the gory details, but basically, Jeongguk orchestrated a gathering of these fifteen men—including the one who had stolen from him, Jae."

The name Jae rings a bell from when you accompanied Namjoon to beat those two men with a baton.

"They were at some dingy bar that Jeongguk owns, and Jeongguk showed up, told the outside door guard not to let anyone out, and bid the bartender farewell. Then, he hopped over the counter and began constructing a molotov cocktail."

Already, this sounds like a fever dream, and you take a gulp of champagne, feeling tipsiness begin to swirl in your chest and head.

"So," you inquire with a raise of an eyebrow, "he grabbed a bottle of..."

"Vodka."

"Right, of course," you respond, biting back a grin. "Then he shoved a rag into it and what? Lit it on fire?"

"Exactly."

"Wh—" You begin to wonder who in real life, in their right mind, even thinks to do that. But then you remember that Jeongguk was most certainly not in his right mind.

"Then, he hopped up onto the bar with the incendiary and chucked it over the crowd of men so that it smashed against the ceiling, raining fire down on them."

Again, you attempt to ask questions that never form, only finding yourself able to mutter, "That...sounds fake."

"It was honestly incredible," Felix beams, perhaps a little too excitedly. "Fire rained down on these men and they began to panic. Only one man caught fire to the point of needing to stop, drop, and roll, but the commotion it created was precisely the type of chaos that someone like Jeongguk feeds off of.”

You imagine men running around frantically as their hair and clothing burn, and although the imagery is cartoonish in your mind, the idea makes your stomach churn.

“Jeongguk managed to isolate the Jae guy and restrain him to a pipe,” Felix continues. “It’s an older brick building, kind of industrial, with some of the pipes coming out of the walls and snaking back in, and I believe Jeongguk used handcuffs to restrain his wrist. Then, he went to town on the other fourteen while Jae watched.”

“What do you mean by he ‘went to town’ on them?”

“With the kunai,” Felix responds as if it is obvious, then he screws up his face in thought. “Mostly by stabbing the tips into the men’s necks, or slicing their throats open. A couple men attacked with punches, and he would use one blade to punch into their arms, blocking their swings, while advancing with the other kunai into this jugular. Some got headbutted before throat-gauged. It was a mess. At one point, there was so much blood on the floor, and vodka from the Molotov, that a guy slipped and broke his head open on all the broken glass.”

Suddenly, you do not think you want to know how the situation escalated so much that Jeongguk got stabbed. Though, considering he was outnumbered and the floor was covered in broken glass, you can wager a guess.

“One of the details I overheard Taehyung tell was that in his pocket, Jeongguk had a bloodstained mouth guard. Imagine that sight. Jeon Jeongguk, high out of his fucking mind, covered in blood and sweat, wielding kunai knives with this wide, plastic grin. Maniacal.”

“And he only got stabbed once?” you ask incredulously as you remember all the substances in his system while he fought all these men.

“Twice, technically, but from the same guy. He most likely got cocky. He was facing Jae—saying his final words, I assumed, judging by how he stood—and a guy who must have been playing dead before gathered two large pieces of glass and first tried stabbing him in the guts under his ribs, but only really managed to get him between the shoulder blades.”

“And, let me guess,” you deadpan, “he got a kunai to the throat?”

“Two to the stomach, I believe. He was already bleeding pretty badly, though from where, it was hard to tell.”

“And I assume Seokjin found him somehow and brought him home?”

Felix nods.

“Luckily, Jeongguk had the wherewithal to call Seokjin before it all went down and tell him he would need a ride home. Unfortunately for Seokjin, however, Jeongguk failed to mention he had driven his bike into town.”

A scoff rocks through your chest as you try to imagine Jeon Jeongguk—dressed head to toe in his standard mobster black attire with his pupils dilated into black disks—riding a bicycle like a carefree child.

“And this bike,” you inquire, failing to hold back a smile, “what does it look like?”

Felix beams. “Oh, it’s the cutest thing! Mint green with a little brown basket on the handles.”

“You’re lying,” you mutter in disbelief.

Felix shakes his head. “It has a bell and everything! He pulls up to the house and brrring brrrings it with a shit-eating grin.”

Now that is something you would pay to see.

“Wait, so Seokjin brought him back here on a bicycle?”

With a hum, Felix says, “He must have a luggage rack over the back wheel, because Seokjin complained about him sitting behind him, leaning hard into his back while his feet kept slipping from the pegs and bumping into the tires.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Good thing I befriended Jimin and not Jeongguk,” you mutter.

With a knowing grin, Felix leans forward and says, “According to a little bird, Jimin recently orchestrated a murder, too.”

“You’re lying,” you gasp as you chug back the rest of your champagne and begin to refill your glass.

Felix shakes his head and holds his empty glass for a refill, as well. “Well, I think technically, Seokjin finished the job. Jimin is by far the biggest softie of the group.”

"And the least soft one is Jeongguk, I presume?" you mutter jokingly.

Felix's eyes widen, and he says, "That would be Taehyung."

You cock your head to the side, pointing an ear in his direction, as if you may have misheard. "Taehyung?"

A grin tugs at Felix's lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Taehyung didn't become a doctor because he likes to help people. He became a doctor because the human body fascinates him, and he enjoys ripping them open. He just happens to be very good at taking care of the select few men he has no desire to rip open. Evidently, the man has a stare so deadly, it makes even Jeongguk cower. But this is all conjecture; we do not dare talk about Taehyung's personal life unless he tells us something directly."

“This is too much information,” you grumble as you top off Felix’s glass and set the empty bottle onto the small table between the heads of your poolside beds.

You definitely want to know more about this situation with Jimin, but after Jeongguk’s murder party, you have heard enough; you cannot even begin to fathom what goes on behind Taehyung's closed door. Instead, you store the information away for later, chug the remaining champagne, and then ask Felix if he would like to swim.

You must have fallen asleep poolside after returning to the padded bed, feeling a little too drunk and quite a bit tired. The last thing you remember is Felix continuing to swim and convincing the bartender to strip down to his briefs and join him.

Although your eyes are open, everything poolside seems strange. It feels muted and still, and although you can hear the gentle sloshing of the water and several distant male voices, you are unable to detect any movement. Like an abandoned movie set, closed up, and left for the night.

A shadow looms over you, and you wonder at first, if you are imagining it. It looks huge—great enough to fully engulf and crush you if it wanted to. You attempt to close your eyes or look away, but you are stuck, paralyzed as the shadow hovers closer and closer. In the recess of your subconscious, you recognize that you are still dreaming and that you need to wake up.

Although you open your mouth to scream, nothing comes out. You thrash and claw at the cushion below, but it is useless as the shadow creeps closer and closer. It does not even touch you—does not have to—yet it pushes the air from your lungs until they burn, desperate for oxygen.

Warm hands touch your shoulders, and you hear a familiar voice.

"Hey, sweetheart? Are you having a nightmare?"

Namjoon—an anchor in a storm—gently pulls you from hell, and you sit up, eyes wide and pouring tears as you gasp for breath. The sun is still up, and although you are in the shade, everything is incredibly bright, causing you to squint. You feel dehydrated—mouth dry with a headache blooming in your temples. A product from day drinking in the heat.

"Fuck," you mutter under your breath, overwhelmed and out of sorts. "How long have I been out here?"

Across the pool, Felix is asleep under one of the awnings, curled up like a child and gripping onto a bottle of champagne. You cannot help but snicker.

"Long enough," Namjoon responds sweetly as he sweeps hair off your seat-sticky face and leans in to place a kiss on your cheek. "Are you hungry? We were thinking about grabbing dinner after a shower."

You do not have to ask who we is, though you do wonder where the other half may be.

With a smile, you nod and mutter, "Sounds perfect."

Namjoon stands and twists, then scoops you up, carrying you into the house. Your sundress is still discarded on the end of the pool bed, but you decide not to bother with it at the moment and curl against Namjoon's chest, breathing him in.

"Did you have a good day?" Namjoon asks, deep voice vibrating from his chest to yours.

"I did until the nightmare," you admit sheepishly.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Concern laces Namjoon's voice, making you feel so giddy, you bury your face into his neck and shake your head.

"Just sleep paralysis."

"Glad I came to find you at just the right moment, then."

Gently, slowly, you press a kiss into Namjoon's skin. Then two. Then three.

"Me too."

Upstairs, you enter Yoongi's room to find his shower is already running. Namjoon takes you straight into the en suite and sets you down beside the sink, then turns to the linen closet to grab more towels. You begin to strip from your bathing suit and tiptoe toward the shower. It feels like ages since you have seen Yoongi—even though you fell asleep in his bed last night—and you want to surprise him.

Namjoon, however, stops you with a firm hand around your bicep.

"Hey Yoon," he announces loudly. "We're here to join you."

"Perfect," Yoongi grumbles, voice sounding uncharacteristically low.

"Best not to surprise a mob boss," Namjoon mutters into your ear, giving you chills. "Even a shampoo bottle can become a weapon."

You clear your throat and nod, forcing a smile. Suddenly, you feel apprehensive to find what kind of mood awaits you. However, when Namjoon steps ahead and pulls the shower doors open, you find Yoongi standing below a stream of water with his head back, rinsing off with a small smile on his lips. Suds fall from his nearly jet-black hair, running down past taut muscle, deep scars, and pretty pale skin.

Yoongi straightens out and rubs the water from his eyes, then fixes you with a soft, happy smile.

"Darling, come," he says with his hands outstretched, and you realize you had been standing and staring from the doorway the entire time.

Namjoon makes his way past Yoongi, grabs a rag, and lathers it with liquid soap. You enter slowly, closing the door behind you, and let your eyes flit between Namjoon and Yoongi, feeling the dizzy, shitty sleepiness from napping after day drinking as you approach Yoongi and let him pull you into a hug under the warm stream of water.

"I only saw you this morning, yet I missed you all day," Yoongi mutters softly against the side of your head.

You chuckle and hug him tight, letting water pool in the space between your cheek and his chest.

"I was asleep," you tease, and Yoongi responds with a soft, "And looking so precious all bundled up."

Seokjin's proposition from this morning comes back and sends a chill through you. The thought of deceiving Yoongi and leaving him feels impossible, and you decide that even if he does come back with a convincing lie, you will turn him down again. And again, and again, as much as it takes.

"I always miss you," you admit quietly.

Yoongi kisses your temple and pulls from the hug, so you drop your arms to your sides and glance up at him, taking in his sullen expression. Even with his lips tugged into a smile, you can see sadness in his eyes, and you reach up to stroke his cheek and neck.

"Everything alright?" you ask softly.

You do not miss how Yoongi's gaze flicks to Namjoon before he glances back at you and gives a smaller, less convincing smile.

"Everything is not alright, but we are working on it."

Dread pools in your tummy, and you swallow a lump that's suddenly formed in your throat.

"Oh."

"Nothing you need to worry too much about," Namjoon says as he begins gently rubbing a sudsy cloth over your back and arms. "Jeongguk and Jimin made a couple of messes that we have to...clean up."

Your conversation with Felix returns, and you nibble on your bottom lip.

"I may have heard something about that."

"Did Felix tell you?" Yoongi asks, voice stern but steady. You worry that perhaps Felix was not supposed to tell you and that he might get in trouble, but as you nod, Yoongi's expression softens. "I was hoping he might. It probably came out a lot more playfully than if one of us explained it. And, although Jeongguk's mess is not yours to worry about, it does affect what happens under this roof, so you have a right to know."

"And Jimin?" you ask before you can stop yourself.

Namjoon washes your legs and taps each ankle so you can lift your feet one after another, making this conversation feel so out of place during such a domestic moment.

With a sigh, Yoongi's gaze falls.

"Jimin found out the man he was dating was sent here by Ryujin to spy on us. Allegedly, according to Jimin, Jiyong said that he stopped performing his duty when he and Jimin got serious, which caused Ryujin to send someone to shake Jiyong down, but rather than following his order, he ended up booking Jimin at Paradise and attacking him. You saw the aftermath of that."

"Jesus," you mutter under your breath. Your heart aches for Jimin—for how he must have felt to find out the man he may have loved was working for the enemy.

"So, Jimin drugged him with the intention of killing him, but he called in reinforcements when it didn't go according to plan."

"Seokjin," you mutter, remembering the smug way he regarded you this morning.

"Gotta hand it to Jimin," Namjoon says as he turns your body to face him and rubs the cloth over your chest and stomach, "his plan was extremely tidy. Mixing triazolam and codeine into cocaine with the intention of forcing an overdose is some black widow shit. I would have just left a bullet in his skull."

The thought of Namjoon shooting a man in the head makes your blood turn cold, and you wrap your arms around your chest.

"What did Seokjin do when he arrived?"

"Smothered him with a pillow," Yoongi answers simply, and your eyes fall to the tile floor. You feel bad for Jimin, who must have been pretty heartbroken to be unable to complete the task without help.

"The men Jeongguk killed are more or less nobodies," Namjoon adds as if to assuage the tension that suddenly hangs. "Only one of them has a family who might come looking, so Yoongi is going to make them an offer and pay them off."

Yoongi adds, "Jimin and Seokjin's target is a little less of a ghost. When word travels back that he was killed by our men, Ryujin may retaliate, so we need to prepare for that. And find out if any of the people who Jimin met through Jiyong can also be bought."

"Sounds complicated," you mutter as Namjoon approaches the line of bottles and squirts more liquid onto the cloth to clean himself.

"It's not, really," Yoongi says. "Men care more about money than pretty much anything else. But, this will take me away for a day or two. I want to meet with everyone as soon as I can, while making a bit of a loop through the city to find out whether anyone may be trying to tail me. Gonna stay at one of my hotels and pretend to lay low."

"Oh," you mutter, turning your gaze from the spot on the wall that you had spaced onto, to Yoongi. "When?"

"According to the terror twins, the brother of the man Jeongguk killed has accepted an invitation to House of Cards tonight at 11 PM. If all goes well, I should be back tomorrow night."

"The terror twins?" you ask, glancing between Yoongi and Namjoon, who both crack a smile.

"It's what we lovingly call Taehyung and Jeongguk," Yoongi says, and Namjoon adds, "Behind their backs only."

You suppose that after everything Felix has told you, the name makes sense. Overwhelmed by the thought that Yoongi could be putting himself in danger by meeting with these people, you wrap your arms around him, pulling an oof from his lips as you slam his chest into yours.

"Darling, I'll be fine," Yoongi assures you as he lifts his arms and gently drapes them over your shoulders. "Namjoon will be here with you. I'm sure that with all the attention he is willing to give you, you will forget that I am even away."

Petulance overtakes you at Yoongi's candor, and you release the hug, giving his chest a playful shove as you pout, "Not funny."

"Alright, no rough-housing in the shower," Namjoon says as he takes you gently by the arms and pulls you into a stream of water to rinse off all the soap that he has so kindly covered you in.

"Let's unwind with takeout and a drink before I go?" Yoongi offers once Namjoon has finished washing himself. You find Yoongi fixing you with a devious grin, and you feel the last of your frustrations melt away.

"Fine," you concede, pouting once more, though less convincingly.

Namjoon is the first to exit, and he dries off, wrapping the towel around his hips, then he grabs a second towel and holds it open for you to step in, draping it around you with a kiss to your forehead. He does the same for Yoongi, and you watch in awe as Yoongi momentarily melts in his hold, then searches for you with a smile.

With several hours to spare, you return to the bedroom, to the large couch while Yoongi and Namjoon exit the room for several long minutes. They return with a bottle of white wine but no glasses, and you pass the bottle around and enjoy slow, sloppy makeout sessions with both men until a pile of Chinese takeout is delivered to the room by a very drunk, very sleepy Felix.

By the time Yoongi has to get dressed and leave, you are back to feeling tired, and you curl against Namjoon's naked chest, doing your best to avoid the erection beneath his towel. Perhaps later, when it is just the two of you, you will work him up again just to help him out.

"Feel free to have fun without me," Yoongi groans against your lips as he pulls you to your feet and kisses you goodbye.

Rather than respond to his invitation, you lean in for a kiss, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with worry.

"Please be safe. Come home in one piece."

Yoongi smiles against your lips.

"I will, darling. I promise."

Namjoon walks Yoongi out, muttering to him while thumbing through his cell phone, and you hang back and pad over to Yoongi's closet for some clothing as a shiver runs through you. Although you are certain that Yoongi has gone on missions that are far more dangerous, you fear for the worst.

The conversation that you, Yoongi, and Namjoon had about love has been playing on repeat, thawing a part of your heart in a way that you never expected it could, and it serves only to ramp up your anxiety. You grab an oversized tee from the section of the closet that Namjoon has begun filling with his own clothing, and a pair of sweatpants from Yoongi's side, slipping into each garment before making your way back to the far side of the bedroom.

When it is the three of you, the size and shape of the dark blue sofa is welcoming—an invitation. But alone, you feel small and uncertain, and you bring your knees to your chest to sit in a ball and move your fingertips along the soft blue fabric while you wait for Namjoon to return.

It does not take long, and when he steps into the room and closes the large doors behind him with a smile on his face, you relax and allow your lips to tug into a gentle smile of your own. You twist and sit high on your knees, resting your arms over the back of the couch as Namjoon approaches.

"Oh, sweetheart," Namjoon drawls, "don't look so worried. Yoongi is in good hands." With a playful raise of his eyebrow, he sits beside you and adds, "And so are you."

"I know," you respond softly, suddenly embarrassed by the surge of emotion that feels almost overwhelming and difficult to parse.

"What would you like to do in the meantime? We can eat some more, watch a movie, go to bed early...I think we have a stash of Jeongguk's molly if you wanna get real weird."

You let out a boisterous laugh, feeling the mood lighten.

"I think I'm good not dipping into Jeongguk's ecstasy stash after the story Felix told me."

Namjoon laughs and shakes his head.

"That shit Jeongguk had sucks. It came from America, laced with meth. The stuff we actually put on the streets and do ourselves is pure, not laced with anything. Just a clean, euphoric high."

That actually does sound nice, and you imagine how adorable Yoongi and Namjoon would be while rolling.

"Maybe when Yoongi is back," you concede.

Namjoon chuckles as he says, "Deal."

"A movie might be nice. I haven't seen anything in ages."

Namjoon reaches for a remote that sits on the small table and turns on the large television that must have been installed on the wall at some point while you were passed out poolside. Every streaming service you can imagine—and some you have never heard of—come up, and you watch as Namjoon scrolls through and chooses one, then surveys the options.

When you finally settle on a film that came out earlier in the year, that Namjoon seems excited to watch, you curl up to his side, suddenly feeling the weight of everything dragging you down. Perhaps you should have opted to sleep, instead.

Namjoon fiddles with some controls that are nestled between the various cushions, causing both your and his sections to recline, with the bottom of the couch becoming an elevated footrest.

"Is this good?" Namjoon asks with his lips pressed to your temple, adjusting to wrap his arms around you. "Do you mind if I stay here and watch the movie?"

"'S nice," you mutter against his naked chest—he still wears only a towel.

Draped over the back of the couch is a soft, tan blanket, and Namjoon grunts quietly as he twists and yanks, making his best effort to grab it without jostling you around too much. Your lips tug into a lazy smile as you wrap an arm and leg over him while he covers the two of you and pulls you close. You do not make it past the opening scene before you are sound asleep.

Briefly, you wake to the feeling of Namjoon slipping out from under you and removing the blanket. You groan from the sudden cold, and from being pulled from your slumber, as Namjoon scoops you up and carries you to bed. The sheet and blanket are cold beneath you as he sets you down on your back, and you roll in toward the center, curling into a fetal position as the mattress dips behind you and Namjoon's warm, strong arm wraps around your waist, cradling your back against his chest.

"Sleep sweet, beautiful," Namjoon mutters into your nape.

"You too," you grumble, drifting back into the dark, warm heaviness of sleep.

You are not sure if you imagine Namjoon whispering he loves you or if he really does, but you think you might say it in response if you were more awake. You think that, perhaps, you could come to mean it the way he wants you to—the way you think you would like to.

"Yoongi expects to return sometime tonight," Namjoon reports as he steps out from the bathroom with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, wearing a plain white tee and black basketball shorts.

You nod and use the palms of your hands to rub the sleep from your eyes, then stretch with a long, deep yawn. Sunlight fills the room, dappled by dark blue curtains, and you let your hands fall to the mattress, to your sides, as you adjust to being awake.

"Alright," you mutter in response as Namjoon leaves the room to rinse his mouth. The sink runs for a moment, and you hear him swish and spit, then shut the faucet off.

"I was thinking maybe we could walk around the gardens today?" Namjoon offers as he returns.

He grins as he climbs onto the end of the bed on his hands and knees and begins to crawl to you, and you cannot help but smile back with affection blooming and bursting behind your ribs.

"That sounds nice," you respond as Namjoon places his arms on either side of you, hovering close and caging you in. He nuzzles his nose against your neck, and you giggle, attempting to push him away with one hand to his shoulder, groaning, "Why are you like this?"

Namjoon chuckles—voice as deep as the ocean—and you lift your shoulder to your chin, attempting to stop his breath and lips from tickling your skin, which breaks out in goosebumps.

"I like you," Namjoon responds playfully, nestling his face deeper into the crook of your neck.

Every nerve is on fire, and you feel jumpy from the sensation. You begin to swat and shove at Namjoon, leaning back, uselessly.

A giggle rocks through you as you complain, "It tickles, you jerk."

Namjoon only presses further, and when you fall back against the pillows with a huff, he hovers over you with a devastating smile before leaning down to slot his lips against yours. Once more, you begin to swat at him.

"I have morning breath," you attempt to say with your lips sealed as tightly as possible.

With a wide, mischievous smile, Namjoon licks a long stripe across your lips, leaving a minty scent in its wake.

"Have some of my mouthwash."

You squeal and attempt to shake your head from side to side as he licks over your lips once more, in the other direction.

"You're a monster!" you shout, giving him one more shove with both hands.

Namjoon collapses beside you with laughter, leaving you to lie dazed, staring at the ceiling ahead with your lips covered in minty spit. In a last-ditch effort to have any control, you swing your arm to the side, smacking Namjoon square in the chest with your palm while you mutter, "What is wrong with you."

Your hand is caught between both of his before you can pull it back, and Namjoon yanks you gently until you comply and roll toward him to settle with your head against his chest.

"You love it," Namjoon grumbles, a vibration you can feel better than you can hear.

You hum in response and close your eyes. Namjoon smells like a fresh bouquet on a spring morning, and you breathe his scent deeply with a smile, muttering, "I guess so," while nuzzling your cheek against his pec.

"Shall we get up and have breakfast?" Namjoon asks with a gentle squeeze of his arms around your middle and a kiss to the top of your head.

"Soon. Wanna stay this way for a little while longer."

"Alright," Namjoon responds, wiggling slightly as if to get comfortable. "We can stay this way for as long as you would like."

A dangerous proposition, you think, as you consider the pros and cons of never getting out of bed again.

Breakfast consists of omelets that Namjoon nearly burns. Despite his efforts, it comes out delicious, and you beam from across the kitchen counter at the blush that reddens his cheeks while you take another bite.

"It is hard to reconcile you being this domestic while also being the guy that beat those two men with a metal baton," you mutter with a mouth full of food.

Namjoon smirks, but something dark, possibly sad, flashes over his eyes.

"I've done much worse than that."

You hum and nod; you suppose he has, but you are not so sure you feel like asking what he means, exactly.

"Does it bother you?" Namjoon asks, sounding somewhat apprehensive.

With a shrug, you say, "I'm adjusting," then take a drink from the large glass of orange juice shared between you. "On one hand, I'm used to the lifestyle. Growing up on the streets, watching people die, finding bodies....killing a man."

The memory sends a chill through you, and you take a deep breath, then continue.

"I thought that I could escape it and make an attempt at a normal life—date a normal dude and all that. But it seems that I was always going to return. Perhaps I was never as far away from it all as I thought I was."

When you lift your gaze to Namjoon, his eyes are on his food, but he does not move to eat.

"Yoongi would have wanted you no matter what," he mutters.

All you can bring yourself to say is a soft, "Yeah."

It is a thought that has haunted you for some time.

No matter how far you would have run, Yoongi would have brought you back to him, if that was his goal all along. If you allow it to, the thought will easily consume you—make you feel suffocated and at a total loss of control. But, as you come to settle into his home and get to know his family men better, you find yourself becoming more at peace with it, as long as you do not allow yourself to overthink.

Better this than living on the streets. And if Yoongi really does come to love you the way he says he would like to, then you will be protected. At least, you allow yourself to believe that there will not be a permanent crosshairs attached to your back—you allow yourself to sleep at night with the belief that his men will keep the two of you safe.

The rest of breakfast is eaten in silence, and Namjoon excuses himself to answer a phone call as you finish up. You decide to clean, taking your time washing and rinsing the handful of dishes the two of you used and placing them in the large metal drying rack.

When Namjoon returns, he seems distracted, but he takes your hand and guides you to the pile of shoes by the front door where the two of you slip into some sneakers, then you walk down the narrow hallway, to the large glass doors that lead out to the garden entrance.

You walk much the same path that you had taken with Felix during your second or third day at the mansion, but it is nice to see everything once again. The statues and fountains feel alive against the backdrop of the clear blue afternoon sky, and birds flit around overhead.

Although the weather is warm, you are glad that you chose to wear a sweater and sweatpants from Yoongi's closet, feeling a slight chill to the air and wanting comfort. Namjoon is in blue jeans, a white tee, and a soft brown cardigan, looking perfectly huggable and not at all like the mobster you know him to be.

"I don't know why I don't come out here more often," you mutter with a sigh.

"Yeah," Namjoon responds. "I used to come out here a lot more, but lately, I haven't found the time."

"Is your home nearby?" you ask, turning to watch Namjoon, who looks to the east, nodding his chin.

"Just over the fence, in the next house over."

A smirk tugs at your lips. "Never too far away."

Namjoon tongues the inside of his mouth and smiles widely for the first time since breakfast.

"Indeed."

"And the others?"

Namjoon points as he explains.

"Taehyung lives behind this garden, and Jimin is just past my house, in between the two. On the opposite side is Seokjin and Hoseok's house, and just past them is Jeongguk. There are small roads that lead to each property so you don't have to exit the gates and use the main road, and they all lead directly to Taehyung."

"Makes sense," you respond, imagining that the doctor would need to be easily accessed.

Gently, Namjoon takes your chin in one hand and strokes his thumb over your lip.

"You're welcome to come to my home any time, you know. I can show you the path that leads there."

You tilt your head down slightly, parting your lips to take Namjoon's thumb gently between your teeth and flick the tip with your tongue. Namjoon groans and bends, standing face-to-face.

"Use your words, sweetheart. What is it you want?"

Until this moment, you had not had anything on your mind, but the gaze in Namjoon's eye is exciting, and the prospect of him putting his hands on you out here, in the garden, appeals to you. You suck on Namjoon's thumb, then release it with a pop.

"I want your hands," you respond sweetly.

"My hands?"

You hum and nod your head.

"What would you like me to do with my hands, sweetheart?"

With a smirk, you say, "I want you to touch me, silly."

Namjoon rolls his eyes and takes you by the hand, pulling you past the Greek statues to a stone bench just inside the shrub maze. He unbuttons his cardigan and shrugs it off, placing it down on the bench and tugging your hand in its direction, a silent order to sit down. Namjoon gets on his knees in front of you and runs his hands up your thighs, sending a shiver through you.

"The one time you don't wear a dress," he teases as he reaches up, slipping his fingers below the waistband of your borrowed pants and pulling.

You angle your hips upwards, lifting yourself off the seat as you allow Namjoon to pull them down, past your hips and thighs. He rubs his hands over your bare skin, up and back down, then begins to pull the garment over your knees. You help expedite the process by lifting your right leg and pulling your foot free, and Namjoon leaves the sweatpants around your left calf.

Namjoon stands and joins you on the bench, pulling your right leg over his lap and rubbing his hand up your thigh. Between Namjoon's touch and the gentle breeze, goosebumps break over your skin, and a shiver tingles down your spine.

"Is this how you want me to touch you?" Namjoon asks, leaning to brush his lips across yours.

You let out a soft, satisfied sigh and close your eyes, nodding your head.

"This is a good start."

A deep, sweet chuckle ghosts warm breath over your skin.

"A good start, you say? What can I do to make it better?"

"Touch me higher."

Namjoon brushes the tips of his fingers up your thigh and hip, and then higher, under your shirt to circle your belly button. You huff a scoff of frustration and amusement, and shake your head.

"Lower," you whine, "in the center."

With a deep hum, Namjoon nuzzles his nose against your skin as he moves his hand down, over your panties, leaving featherlight touches across your labia. The gentle contact makes you whine, sending a rush of arousal through you.

"Namjoon, please," you moan, spreading your legs further.

"Use your words, baby."

A shattered exhale leaves your lips, and you tilt your cheek toward his face, suddenly feeling shy to voice what you want.

Your voice is soft and weak as you beg, "Touch my pussy, daddy. Please."

"That's my good girl," Namjoon groans as he presses against your clothed lips and rubs his fingers up and down.

The wave of pleasure that rushes through you is abrupt, and you arch your back, moaning and shuddering from the sensation. Namjoon twirls his fingers over you several times, then he drags his hand up slowly and pushes it past the waistband of your panties.

"Does my baby like the way I touch her?" Namjoon asks as his fingers separate your lips and graze over your clit, down to your entrance, and back up, slick with your arousal. It feels heavenly, and you nibble on your lip and whimper.

Namjoon's voice is stern and low.

"Be a good girl and use your words."

"I love the way you touch me, daddy."

Namjoon spins his fingers over your clit in slow, steady circles, building you gradually as heat flushes over your skin.

"I'm dying to taste you, baby," Namjoon groans, sucking a spot gently into your skin and licking over the mark. The sensation of him teasing your neck makes you tremble and moan as you imagine that talented tongue between your thighs.

"Then taste me, daddy," you gasp.

Namjoon's hand leaves you, pulling from your panties and letting the elastic waistband snap gently against your skin. You whine, desperate for his touch once more, but he moves your leg away from his lap and gives your hip a gentle slap.

"Stand up," Namjoon instructs, and you sigh as you follow his order, watching as he stands, picks up his cardigan, and rolls it into a little ball, then places it on one end of the stone bench. Namjoon sits, then lays back with his head cushioned by the shirt, and pats his shoulder with one hand commanding you to, "Sit."

"Sit?" you ask incredulously.

"On my face," he specifies with a raise of his eyebrows.

You approach and swing your leg over the bench, kneeling on the cold stone as you place your hands above either side of his head and lift your other leg. Yoongi's sweatpants dangle from your ankle, and you reach down to yank it free over your sneaker, then lift your leg, hovering above him.

Namjoon places his hands on your ass and pulls you forward, craning his neck as you settle, and lapping his tongue against you. His tongue is warm and wet, instantly building your arousal once more, and making you moan. One hand slides away from your ass, reaching between your legs to press two long fingers inside you.

"Fuck," you moan, feeling your arousal rapidly build from the stretch. "That feels so good, daddy."

With a deep, muffled groan, Namjoon licks hungrily at your pussy as his fingers steadily pump in and out. Your hips tremble and gently grind against him as he alternates licking and sucking your clit.

Yoongi's voice pops into your mind, teasingly groaning, "So easy," as you feel yourself quickly reaching the precipice of pleasure.

"You're gonna make me cum, daddy," you whine as your hips grind a little harder. "Please don't stop."

Namjoon picks up his pace, fucking his fingers into you relentlessly, and you begin to dissolve, vibrating from head to toe as the dam breaks. A sob rips through your chest as you peak, orgasm pulsating through you, and Namjoon does not slow down, pulling wave after wave out until you can no longer take it and begin to shutter from overstimulation.

"Please," you whine. "It's too much, daddy."

As his fingers and lips slow, you continue to tremble, feeling sensitive and fucked out. As soon as Namjoon pulls completely out, you sit on his chest and lean forward on your hands, caging in his head.

"You're so good to me," you purr as you attempt to get your bearings enough to stand. Namjoon lays patiently as you slide haphazardly, placing one foot on the ground and swinging over the other.

"Of course I am," Namjoon finally responds as he sits up.

You gather the sweatpants and step out of one shoe and into the leg hole, sliding into the shoe as your foot breaches the end, then repeating with the other side, wiggling your hips as you pull the pants up. Then, you approach Namjoon, slotting a leg between his and grabbing his face as you bend to leave a soft, chaste kiss.

"I like you a lot, Joonbug," you mutter against his lips.

Namjoon wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, licking into your mouth with a moan. You melt against him, tasting heady hints of your release.

"I like you a lot too, sweetheart."

"Let me take care of you?" you ask sweetly, reaching for his erection, but he shakes his head softly and says, "Later. This was just about getting you off."

You tilt your head back to get a look at Namjoon, endeared by his soft gaze and dimpled cheeks.

"Show me your house, then? I want to learn more about you."

With a grin, Namjoon nods and says, "Let's go."

Namjoon stands and takes your hand, lacing your fingers between his.

"If we continue past this part of the garden, there is a path that leads from Tae's property to the backs of the homes, but I want to show you the more direct road from the mansion."

You hum and nod, following Namjoon's lead through the garden the way you came. Just before the driveway, there is a path that leads through trees and a clearing in the garden wall, which opens to a wide gravel area that narrows into a road. With each step, the earth crunches, and you take a deep breath, letting out a contented sigh, holding Namjoon's hand while you walk in comfortable silence.

As you continue down the road, a large brown house comes into view, partially surrounded by trees. While the home is smaller than the mansion, it is still far too large for just one person, and you frown as you imagine Namjoon returning here alone in the past, knowing he would rather be in the mansion, with Yoongi.

"Once you've been in my home, you're more or less been in them all. They were built from the same mould. Except for Taehyung's place."

"Is his bigger?"

Namjoon hums. "His is massive. It might even be larger than Yoongi's place."

"Why?"

With a chuckle, Namjoon gives your hand a gentle squeeze. "Discussing Taehyung's personal life is something I do not allow myself to do. But I will just say that the man has some interesting hobbies, in addition to his various examination and surgical rooms."

"Not cryptic at all," you tease.

Felix's words return, and you shudder at the thought of him ripping people apart in his big, state-of-the-art hospital-slash-mansion. You hope that he was trying to intimidate you by exaggerating.

Namjoon's property is surrounded by various trees and bushes, and he has a garden of his own, though it is much smaller, with more greenery and fewer statues, on the side of the house. A large black sedan sits outside the garage, looking identical to those the rest of the family men drive, and you wonder if his Porsche is inside the garage.

As you approach the large, brown two-story home, Namjoon releases your hand and steps up to the thumbprint and retina scanner, then punches in a long code before his front door clicks open. You follow his lead inside, sliding your shoes off beside his large, chaotic shoe stash. A set of stairs lead up along the nearby right wall, and the house opens into a large living room, with what appears to be a dining area past the stairs, to the right.

Namjoon takes your hand in his once more and leads you into the living room. Everything is earth tones, reclaimed woods, and leather, and you are pleasantly surprised by the number of paintings and sculptures he has displayed throughout the space. One cozy brown leather chair is surrounded by a large pile of books, and he has a small stack of art and photography books on his coffee table.

"I don't know why I'm surprised to find all this art, considering our museum date," you tease, turning to Namjoon and finding his gaze soft and sweet.

Namjoon smiles, giving your hand a delicate squeeze.

"We should do that again, sometime. Minus the torture pitstop."

"Yes," you agree with a laugh. "We can skip the torture next time."

Gently, Namjoon tugs on your hand, pulling you toward him, and you step in close, rubbing your palm over his soft brown cardigan. The room smells of his musk with earthy hints from the many plants that sit atop furniture and shelves, and it feels much more like home than Yoongi's mansion.

"It's been so long since I've brought someone here," Namjoon says, gently taking your chin in his free hand. "It feels nice letting you see me a little bit more."

"It's nice being welcomed to see you a bit more."

Namjoon leans forward, and you tilt your head up, expecting a kiss, but he leans and rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes with a smile.

"I like you a lot."

Your tummy does a swoop, and you wrap your arm around his neck, playing with the hairs on his nape, and give his hand a tight squeeze.

"I like you a lot too, Namjoon."

When Namjoon opens his eyes, his expression is hungrier, and he tugs his lips into a smile. Then, he drops his hand from your chin and stands up straight, eyebrows knitting as he reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone, which is vibrating. One glance at the screen, and he answers the call.

"Yoongi-hyung."

Excitement and anxiety pool in your tummy at the mention of Yoongi, and you watch Namjoon as his gaze flits to you, then he nods his head.

"She's with me. We were walking through the gardens and I decided to show her how to get to my place. … Nah, I was just about to give her a tour and bring her back home, but we can cut it short and come back now. … Sounds good, I'll see you in a bit. … I love you too."

He does not take his eyes off you as he ends the call, and you feel another more powerful swoop in your guts when he speaks those last four words. Heat rises to your cheeks, and you do your best to hide how affected you are by it, keeping your expression flat while he slips his phone back into his pocket.

"He's home much sooner than expected; shall we head back?" Namjoon asks, leaning in to slot his lips against yours.

You reach for Namjoon's shirt, just above his pec, and gently gather the fuzzy material between your fingers as you lean into the kiss and let out a groan of satisfaction. Even the faintest kiss from Namjoon is so sweet and soft, filling you with warmth and adoration, and you lean into him, letting your lips slowly open and close against his—languid and saccharine.

When Namjoon releases the kiss, you open your eyes with a smile.

"I suppose we shall."

He nods as he says, "I'll give you a tour next time."

Namjoon leads you back to the front entrance, and you slip on your shoes, lamenting having to go back so soon, but eager to see Yoongi. It hasn't been long since you said goodbye, but you find yourself missing him more and more whenever he is away.

The walk back to the mansion is quiet, and Namjoon holds your hand as he hums softly to himself. You enjoy these calm, peaceful moments with him, and gaze around at the Japanese maple trees that line the area. Soon, their leaves will begin to change and become a pretty bright red.

Rather than taking you back toward the garden, Namjoon leads you along a path that opens by the driveway. Leaning against the garage door is a mint green bicycle with a brown basket on the handlebars and a slender luggage rack over the back tire, and you smile to yourself, knowing that it is undoubtedly the bicycle that Felix had described.

"Ah, Jeongguk is here," Namjoon mutters. "I wonder if that means Taehyung is, too."

"Do they often travel as a pair?" you ask.

Namjoon clears his throat and gives your hand a squeeze before releasing it.

"Sometimes."

As you approach, the front door swings open, and Seokjin walks out, dressed head to toe in black and tapping a pack of cigarettes against his palm. When he turns and meets your gaze, he grins.

"My, what a pleasant surprise. And just what were the two of you up to?"

Although you are sure all of the family men must know about the state of your relationship with Namjoon, you feel anxiety bubble under Seokjin's scrutiny.

"Going for a walk," Namjoon responds.

Seokjin hums and nods his head, then pulls a cigarette from the pack and places it between his lips. As he fishes a lighter from his pocket, you and Namjoon step past, into the door, which has been left open by a crack. The main hall of the house is empty, but you notice movement out by the pool. You step out of your shoes and wait for Namjoon to do the same, then follow him toward the back door.

"Ah, there you are," Yoongi calls from the top of the stairs as soon as you are near the landing, and you turn to find him smiling widely with his hair wavy and overgrown, wearing a black tee tucked into black slacks.

"Going to change," Namjoon mutters to you, leaving a kiss on your forehead. "I'll be back."

Yoongi begins to make his way down the stairs as Namjoon walks up, and you stand and watch as they meet in the middle with Yoongi one step higher and slightly towering above Namjoon, smiling as he pulls him into a kiss. They mutter between them, then Yoongi continues down as Namjoon walks up, in the direction of the bedroom.

"Darling," Yoongi calls sweetly, opening his arms as he reaches the final steps.

You approach, and once he is on level ground, you wrap your arms around him, burying your face against his shoulder as you squeeze him tight.

"Miss me?" Yoongi rasps, deep and oh, so sweet.

Your voice sounds breathy as you respond, "I did," releasing the hug just enough to gaze up into his eyes. "How did everything go?"

There is a twitch in Yoongi's jaw that almost goes unnoticed, and when he responds, "I handled everything," his tone is completely changed.

"I'm glad."

Footsteps come from upstairs, and you look past Yoongi to find Namjoon dressed in his standard black button-up and slacks. Yoongi draws your attention with a kiss to your temple and an invitation.

"How would you feel about joining us at a gun range?"

The question feels somewhat random, but it is something that has crossed your mind, especially living in this house with the goings-on that take place.

"Alright," you respond, clearing your throat, which suddenly feels dry. "That would probably be a good idea."

"Taehyung, Jeongguk, and I used to go on a fairly regular basis, and we have been discussing starting up again, this week. I talked to them about having you tag along and they seemed receptive to it."

You are unsure if going to a shooting range of all places with the terror twins is an exciting prospect or a frightening one, but you do not argue. You are certain that Yoongi wouldn't intentionally put you into a dangerous situation, but being that you do not know either of them very well, you have no idea what to expect.

The glass door leading out to the pool slides open, and you turn to find Taehyung entering shirtless with his wet hair swept off his forehead and a big white towel wrapped around his hips. He looks stunning with his sly boxy smile and the droplets from his hair streaking his golden skin.

"Are you excited for tomorrow?" Taehyung asks with his gaze fixed on you.

You hum and turn to Yoongi, who says, "I thought we would start shooting right away."

"Oh," you respond, eyes wide as you look back to Taehyung, who asks, "Have you shot a gun before?"

You nod; you have done shooting practice with cans and other trash, but never had to put a bullet through another person. "I have, but only a little."

"Good," Taehyung says with a smirk. "I can't wait to see how you handle it."

Yoongi gives your shoulder a squeeze, and you attempt to keep your breathing level and steady, but there is something in those sharp, cold eyes of Taehyung's that unsettle you. You glance past Taehyung through the doors to find Jeongguk standing, towel-drying his hair with a deep, unmistakable frown, and you force a smile, swallowing down a ball of anxiety as you turn back to Yoongi.

"C-can't wait."

(Mm-mhm)

숨을 내쉬고 뱉어 like (Mm-mhm) Breathe out and еxhale like like (Mm-mhm) 경계를 넘어서 like (Mm-mhm) Bеyond the boundary like like (Mm-mhm)

내 품에 널 안아 like (Mm-mhm) Hold you in my arms like like (Mm-mhm)

다른 생각은 하지마 Don’t even think about other things

🎵 visit the playlist

are we having fun? i am so sorry the updates continue to be spread out, but i am not undertaking so many side projects this year, so hopefully we can get this story wrapped up in the next three or four months. i am excited to show you more of taekook. they are a trip!

as always, please don’t be a silent reader! feedback & reblogs do so much to help content creators! and likes are always appreciated.

a seokjin pov scene takes place during this chapter, where we follow him through a typical day. you can access his pov here (or learn parts of it in later chapters from the reader’s perspective!)

tag list: @afangirllikeme-blog, @angel-121, @artgukk, @btsiguess-kpop, @bts-ficreviews @che-er-ful, @codeinebelle, @dasexydevitt13, @giriiboyy, @illnevertrustmyselfagain, @jalexad, @kissme-ornot, @leanimal90, @likeshatteredrainbowglass, @m1sss1mp, @mayeolorie, @mwitsmejk, @openup-yourmind, @sleepilysworld, @stocking221, @spookyminyunki, @thirstyforjoon, @valhallawhispers 🗡️ comment or dm to be added!

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#yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi mafia #namjoon smut #namjoon mafia #namjoon fluff #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #yoongi x namjoon #bts smut #bts fluff #bts mafia #bts poly #fic: collateral #Spotify

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