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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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𝗹𝗶𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 || (very dark) 70s!Bucky x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: he tried to be sympathetic to your cause, he really did, but he couldn’t just let you get away with disrespecting him like that.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.4k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: smut (noncon, plus breeding kink and tons of degradation, like very heavy degradation, and multiple orgasms/overstimulation), misogyny, a bit of dumbification, housewife kink, ‘sir’ kink (brief), choking, implied anal, spitting (not on the reader, unfortunately lmao), quite a bit more than period-typical sexism, awful awful awful this fic is absolutely awful

Brooklyn, 1970.

Bucky’s mornings were sacred. He had his rituals: showering, cooking breakfast, reading the paper and having his first drink and cigarette of the day, all before he left for work.

But throughout this entire week, his mornings had been ruined by the stupid fucking protest in the park just outside his window. And to think he’d actually paid more for an apartment with a view of the park— he hadn’t realized then that the “view” was gonna be a bunch of hippies creating awful music and an unbearable smell that left his whole apartment reeking of reefer if he dared to open his window.

Attempting to ignore it for a week only made him more resentful with each passing day. Each time he figured the crowd would surely leave soon or at least be quiet for the night, they seemed to somehow get louder just to spite him.

He probably should've waited until he was a bit less agitated to go down and try to bargain with you, but he stormed down there instead and tapped you on the shoulder when his presence alone wasn't enough to distract you from your incessant chanting.

“Would you consider being quiet?" he asked firmly. "I have to work in the morning and—”

“We won’t be quiet until women have equal treatment under the eyes of society and the law,” you interrupted to explain condescendingly, shocking him with your icy tone. He could hardly believe your attitude, in fact he couldn’t remember any woman speaking to him that way in his life: so far, he wasn’t enjoying it.

“I just thought you could be a little more respectful,” Bucky shot back, even more stern. “You’re not making anyone wanna support your movement by acting entitled and inconveniencing everyone.”

“I’m sorry the revolution is inconvenient for you,” you replied, but it didn’t sound much like an apology.

He wanted to say more but you blew him off and disappeared into the crowd, leaving him confused and irritated and livid. Up until now he had been quietly skeptical about all this talk of liberation but now he saw it for the poison it really was. A girl like you— who could've been a real looker with some willingness to try and a better attitude— talking to a man like him with so much hate and over what, a polite request?

This could not be tolerated; he couldn't let you get away with acting like that. And lucky for you, he was exactly the guy you needed to teach you your lesson.

The good thing about hippies high on shrooms is they aren’t the most observant. When he returned to the demonstration area the next night, he was able to grab you roughly and pull you back from the crowd with almost no trouble at all, dragging you into an empty alley and clamping his hand down over your mouth as your eyes went wide and your throat vibrated with silent screams.

“Shh, shh,” he soothed against your ear, “whatcha fightin’ for?”

He liked the way it felt to have you squirming against his grasp, using all your strength and not even getting close to escaping.

“How does it feel to know I can do anything I want to you?” he growled against your ear. “C’mon, sweetheart, can’t you put up a better fight than that? I thought you believed in equality… you should be able to get away if you’re as strong as I am.”

He felt your warm tears trailing down around his fingers which held your face tightly, the struggle of your limbs slowing and weakening slightly. His cock was already getting hard as he imagined the moment you would finally give in.

“You remember me, don’t you? You didn’t need to be so rude, darlin’. You could’ve just been nice and none of this would be happening.”

Your elbow shot back into his ribs and he exhaled sharply but didn't let go, grabbing your wrists and holding your arms to your chest as he pinned you to the wall.

"Oh, that's not gonna work, babydoll. I'm so much stronger and bigger than you, all you're gonna do is make me angrier. Is that what you want, sweetheart? To make me angry?" he asked mockingly, leaning in to lick the shell of your ear as you tried to turn away. “Pretty girl like you would make a great wife, why would you want anything else?”

Ignoring your struggle, he reached into your shirt and purred as he groped your chest, your nipples hardening when he pinched them. “Maybe I can get behind this bra-burning thing if it means having easier access to your tits all the time,” he grinned. “How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when I can see them through your shirt? Shouldn’t be showing ‘em off if you don’t want any attention.”

As fun as it was to play with your tits, he had bigger plans, so he reached lower to start tugging down your jeans, your legs uselessly kicking as he exposed your ass and thighs.

His cock was already rock hard as he hastily opened his fly and pulled it out with one hand, leaning back to spit on it quickly. He spread the fluid with a few strokes over his length, figuring it would be enough to get inside you even if he didn’t really care if he hurt you.

Your eyes went wide and your head bucked wildly as he poked the head of it against your opening, your body fighting a little harder once again. The irony of that, though, was that you were already plenty wet in spite of what he had expected; it was so much funnier to watch you struggle now that he knew you were not-so-secretly enjoying it.

“Don’t be so dramatic," he chuckled darkly, "I bet you can take a cock real easy since you believe in all this ‘free love’ bullshit.”

He groaned as he pushed into you, impressed by how tight you were— so tight that it made his cock throb right away, your walls pulsing and rippling around him as he filled you to the brim.

“Oh fuck, there you go…” he hissed, smiling as you sobbed harder and struggled a bit more before finally relaxing into his tight embrace. "You're gonna take it all, baby, every fuckin' inch of me."

A hard sob choked out of you every time he slammed himself to the end of you; he could feel the hatred radiating from you, the way you would kill him in a moment if only you weren't so weak. But he could feel your reluctant acceptance, too, and the way it was slowly turning into euphoria— you were finally starting to like how it felt to be helpless to him, it was obvious with the way your pussy gave him such a warm and willing welcome while your pretty tits got even harder.

You clearly wanted to hate him, but your body knew better.

"You think I'm a sexist pig, I'm sure," he chuckled, "but I'm really not— I love women! And you know what I love most? Huh?"

He felt you nervously shake your head behind his hand and he laughed.

"I love the way you get so dumb when you get a cock in you. All those useless little thoughts leaving your head when you're finally getting fucked right."

Your cries got louder even though they were still muffled by his hand, your sweet little pussy giving him a squeeze of encouragement.

"It's okay to like it, babydoll, it's what you were meant for. Made to be my brainless fucktoy… born to serve me," he growled. “You really should learn to appreciate," he grunted between brutal thrusts, "that your only purpose is to keep my dinner hot and my cock warm.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head and he felt your walls bear down on him tightly, wetness seeping down around him.

"Oh fuck, are you coming? Shit," he moaned. "Looks like you really needed to be put in your place, just needed to be used... god, you made a fuckin' mess, too, you soaked my cock…"

Your little hands tightened into fists, pushing against where his arm held them back, but he stayed steady as he pumped into you, letting himself get a bit lost in the feeling of you while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

It felt so damn good to have a cunt coming around him, but it was even better knowing that you were fighting it and still couldn’t stop it, completely helpless to how good he was making you feel.

You almost screamed under his hand when he reached down to quickly rub your clit, your back arching to try to run away from his touch; poor thing, you were so sensitive it probably hurt you, but he was having too much fun watching you realize you were going to come again.

"Yeah, gimme another one, slut," he grinned, your legs quivering as waves of slick coated him and started to even drip down your legs. "Can't stop coming like the dirty whore you are, huh? Bet nobody's made you come like this before— cause nobody's given it to you right. Nobody's shown ya what it's supposed to be like when a man takes you and makes you his."

From the way you moaned softly, teary eyes fluttering shut, he knew you liked the sound of that.

"Yeah, wanna be mine, baby? Wanna be my little slut? Or do you want me to pump this pussy full and leave you here on the ground for any other man that comes by to use you if he needs?"

You groaned softly, a weak little noise, and he felt his cock flex; as much as he wanted this to last as long as possible, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“M’close, honey,” he breathed. “I’m gonna come.”

He laughed breathlessly when you shut your eyes, like you were trying to go somewhere else in your mind, trying to pretend this wasn’t real. But it was real, and he wasn’t going to let you forget that. He was elated to make your nightmares come true.

"I sure wouldn't mind pulling out and covering that pretty face you've got,” he hissed. “It'd be funny to see you go back to your little march and show them how owned you are. But not today, babydoll, I think there's only one way you're gonna learn your lesson."

Another muffled gurgle from you, and this time it didn’t even sound like protest. Maybe you were just too tired for that at this point, but it gave him hope that you could finally behave.

"I'm gonna take my hand away from your mouth and you're gonna beg me to come inside you, is that clear?" he grunted, feeling you nod vigorously. "You're not gonna scream are you?"

You shook your head, and he slowly pulled his hand from your mouth as you gasped for air. "Please— come in me," you panted.

"Address me as 'sir'," he instructed.

"Please, sir, I— I want you to come," you whined.

He chuckled right against your ear, feeling you shiver in his grasp. "Honey, I don't give a fuck what you want."

To think you ever resisted your natural desire for submission was absurd now, considering the way that statement made you openly moan, your walls fluttering around him.

“Gonna fill you so fuckin’ deep you’ll never get it outta you, sweetheart.”

One more orgasm washed over you, making him laugh darkly while he watched you bite your lip to attempt to stay quiet; but that was impossible once he fucked you harder just to spite you, having to hold you tight to make sure he got as deep in you as possible. Your whole body shook as he slammed into you, and he laughed at how dumb and helpless you looked.

"Bet you're on those new birth control pills," he grimaced. They really weren’t that new, but he still hadn’t gotten used to them. "Makes me sick to think you're letting a perfectly good womb go to waste. Betcha want me to breed you nice and deep, yeah? Wanna get knocked up? You don't even care that I'm a stranger, you wanna get your pussy filled by any random man's come so you can have any random man's baby, ain't that right?"

At first he had worried that you would scream or cry for help, but now his concern was more that your moans would be too loud and somebody would catch the two of you in this alley. Even if it was obvious now that you wanted it, public indecency was still a crime.

Good thing he had a new way to shut you up: his hand tight around your throat, silencing your sobs to blessed silence. It was so hot to have you entirely at his mercy like that, to feel your pulse beneath his fingers, that he couldn’t stop himself from speeding up his thrusts suddenly.

"Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he gasped, “fuck, y-you… little whore…”

He had a habit of running his mouth when he was right on the edge, and the way your pussy was milking him for all he was worth made him spit out whatever filth he could think of.

“Stupid fuckin' bitch," he mumbled under his breath as he fucked you as fast and rough as he could, chasing his high with no regard for your pleasure or your pain. "Dumb whore, fuck, you stupid— ah, shit— stupid fucking cunt!"

He cried out as he filled you, groaning loudly with every pump of his seed into your waiting body. Only when he was sure every drop was inside you did he release his grip on your neck, a loud gasp coming first before a few coughs and chokes that only made his cock harder despite having just filled you.

You started to struggle again, and he couldn’t believe it— after everything, did you still not know your place?

There wasn’t much time to relax and enjoy the afterglow when you were already trying to get away, and so he had to hold you tight again while he smiled exhaustedly.

“N-no,” you stammered, and he covered your mouth again as he pulled your head back to rest on his shoulder. Clearly he hadn’t done enough yet to fuck that word out of you.

“Where ya goin’, sweetheart?” he panted against your ear, still catching his breath, his chest covered in a thin layer of sweat where it was exposed by his shirt. “You’ve still got another hole to fill.”

#dark!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes dark fic #bucky barnes noncon #dark!bucky barnes smut

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courtofwingsandruin · 4 years ago

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I’m so mad at the ACOTAR fandom right now and how they’re dealing with Azriel’s chapter.

Warning: under the cut is just me going off for way too long about Azriel and his extra chapter.

Azriel is a huge comfort character for me, and before I could get my hands on the actual extra chapter I saw tons of posts talking about how gross and OOC he was and the disgusting things he was saying about Elain.

I literally laid in bed crying over it because it hurt to think that this character I had invested so much into, that I had been desperate to hear more about, would be that horrible.

And then I read it and...It’s not that bad? Yeah, he speaks of her sexually and is turned on by her. Sure. But she’s also turned on by him in that moment? She’s wanting him just as badly? He can clearly see that she does, we can clearly see that she does. I haven’t read ACOSF, so I may be wrong, but as far as I know she hasn’t accepted the mating bond yet and has shown no sign of planning to do so. She hasn’t shown any sign of wanting to be Lucien’s mate, but she’s shown a very obvious sign in this chapter about liking Azriel and wanting him.

I didn’t like the whole “Rhys and Cass got their Archeron sisters, why don’t I have one?” thing either, because it does feel like he’s just projecting his loneliness onto Elain and assuming that the Cauldron was wrong because of a kind of dumb theory he has. But I didn’t really feel like he was calling himself entitled to her. If she did not want him, he would be acting completely different. But she is showing that she wants him, is interested in him, and isn’t showing any signs of being interested in Lucien (as far as I understand, correct me if I’m wrong). So yes, it was a weird and stupid thing for him to say, but I don’t think he’s thinking “She should be mine because of this one little crazy thing I noticed.” He’s saying “The Cauldron and the Fates have been wrong about mates in the past and I’m just thinking maybe it was wrong about Lucien and Elain because they don’t have chemistry and we do AND because of this one little crazy thing I noticed.” He just didn’t state it that way.

(Also, quick note: Azriel says he can defeat Lucien out of arrogance, yeah, but also remember that he didn’t do so just unprompted. Rhys was the one to be like “he could challenge you to this duel BS” and Az, who probably only has confidence in his powers and nothing else about himself, says back, “I would win” because...tbh I’d probably say that too if my brother was like “You want this girl but she bElOnGs to another man so he can fight you for her.”)

The line that stuck with me the most was this: “But she’d gotten Azriel one last year—a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he’d done every night he’d slept there.” I think it’s super important to read between the lines in chapters from the POV with characters like Azriel. He’s going to be a lot more open and upfront about his sexual desires than his romantic desires, even with himself, after spending so many years of pining after Mor for it to never happen. With how he has always been the one to try to stay stoned face and keep his personal feelings hidden. We see this with how, when Rhys brings up Mor, Azriel ignores it outright—and thus ignores his feelings. And I feel we also saw it with Gwyn and how he isn’t truly sure what he’s feeling towards her, which is the only reason we actually get a genuine view of those feelings towards the end of the extra chapter.

That quote kind of showed an inner working of his head that we aren’t seeing yet. He clearly isn’t only having sexual thoughts—he stares at this powder and probably thinks about a lot of damn things regarding Elain, not just regarding the bond and the sexual desires. Don’t forget that he’s been one of the few people to be her friend—sitting with her and listening to her and hanging out in the gardens with her in the previous books. His feelings are not only sexual. He’s just not showing us everything because this is only, what, 9 pages from him? We aren’t going to see every little thing he is feeling.

I believe, wholeheartedly, that the next book will be about Elain and Azriel. SJM has set up too much for them both for it to not be. For it to be about Elain and Azriel—unless she pulls a trick on us and has it focus solely on their individual development rather than their relationships, which is possible but I can’t see happening—this would mean that the two of them end up together (1 relationship per book, guys).

I’m not gonna go into Gwyn, because I don’t know much about her yet, and I don’t want to hit you guys with false information. But I feel like Azriel and Elain both have a lot of development to go through and Gwyn will be there with them, but I don’t really know if she is going to be a genuine love interest, or just someone who helps Azriel open up and be better—a good, true friend that he can count on.

The one thing I will say is that Elain and Mor have the parallel of making Azriel’s shadows disappear, or hide away—and Azriel definitely had romantic feelings for Mor. And Gwyn has a completely different effect on Azriel’s shadows. Whether this is a mating bond, or something else about Gwyn we have yet to find out, I don’t know. But I feel it’s definitely important to remember the similarities between how his shadows react to Elain and how they react to Mor versus how they react to Gwyn.

If you actually stuck around for all of this, thank you. I’m gonna go cry into my pillow now over how desperately I need ACOSF so I can focus on Nesta and Cassian and not all of this bull with Azriel and Elain and Lucien and Gwyn.

#acosf spoilers #acosf #azriel #elain archeron #elriel #gwyn #a court of silver flames #bonus chapter #quickly adding this edit in the notes #i’m not an elriel shipper or an elucien shipper #i like both ships and mainly just want to see them all happy #azriel and lucien are my two favorite characters in the series #i don’t talk about lucien much in this or his feelings- rather about elain’s feelings towards lucien #my focus here is not a ship war. it’s about azriel’s feelings in the extra chapter and mainly these feelings with elain #which is why i brought up gwyn too because he shows feelings for her as well #now that’s all i wanted to say (i think). goodbye

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yoondles · 3 years ago

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Grow As We Go - M.YG

CEO! Min Yoongi x CEO! Reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: Marrying your ex isn’t really something you want to do.

Themes: Heavy angst, fluff if you squint for 2 seconds, smut, it ends happily.

Word count: 10k, Unedited

Inspo: Trivia: Seesaw by MYG & Grow As We Go by Ben Platt

Warnings: Yoongi calls you a whore, Yoongi’s pp is huge, reader is a virgin, talks about their toxic relationship, biting/nipping, breast play, light humiliation, fingering, oral (f receiving), squirting, creampie, unprotected seggs, mature language and that’s about it 😐.

A/N: lastly, I haven’t gotten the chance to proofread this and I’m sorry for any mistakes. This is my first fic so feel free to share your thoughts, thank youuu! 😭

You knew you were screwed. The way he held placed his hands inside his pocket, the heavy footsteps that would leave an impression to the carpeted floor of the airport, and the way his eyebrows arched. You were really fucking screwed.

It was the same posture he held one year ago, a few months prior to the separation that lead to the awkwardness that blossomed amidst your honeymoon days. It was eerie silence. You saw the way his veins would pop the moment he saw you as if he was clenching his jaw hard, trying to prevent himself from doing anything he regretted. You refused to make an eye contact with him.

The crowd was going wild, five months after your announced marriage, this was your first public appearance together, as a couple known by the entire nation. The fact that he was Min Yoongi didn’t help either, in fact, more people got interested in your relationship because it was about Min Yoongi.

He was one of the seven bachelors, the current head of BigHit Inc., a large conglomerate. He’s an adopted son of the late Mr. Bang, all of which grew to become individual talents, either blessed in terms of dancing, singing, poetry, even rapping. “Where the fuck have you been?” Cocking one of his brows up as he scrutinised you, looking at your small figure with an imposing look, something that would’ve threatened any normal citizen.

But not you. You knew Yoongi like the back of your hand. Having spent about 5 years of your life in an attempt to make the best out of your arranged marriage with him really helped out. Except for the fact that the two of you haven’t spoken for about one year prior to the wedding itself, and the fact that you were former lovers who decided it wouldn’t work out.

“Japan,” you shrugged him off, dismissing your assistant by giving him your luggage as you tried your best to hide your face from the agonising cameras that the paparazzi held against your face. Thankfully, they were kind enough to make way for the two of you, parting as the newly wedded pair made their way towards the vehicle.

He scoffed at your answer, baffled. He pushed his hair back in annoyance, “why didn’t you tell me anything about this?” You ignored him. Noticing the whispers and glances the people exchanged with one another. You were drifting away, pulled back to reality with the harsh grab you felt in your shoulder, stopping you from moving further. “About what?” You shook his hand off as you attempted to push through. The vehicle seemed to be moving further away from the two of you as tension was quick to rise.

“You, Japan?” You shook your head, walking a tad bit faster this time around. “Hello?” He spoke a bit louder this time, the large empty area made sure that everyone heard him. It was the echoes that reached you. “Just, let me get inside the car,” your voice was getting louder by the second, as the media started cluttering around the two of you, trying to get into the details of what seemed to be an argument between two of the richest heirs in South Korea.

“Can you let me talk to my fucking wife?” His voice was a tad bit louder than earlier, it was nothing that surprised you. He seemed to be fond with wanting himself heard, what shocked you though was the harsh grip that left you wincing as he pulled you inside the car. It was only when you were in front of the door that you managed to shake him off, opening the door yourself as you slumped against the leather seat.

Quickly, you turned away from him, closing your eyes as you forced yourself to shut him out. Pretending that Min Yoongi was a fragment of your imagination and he was no way real, that this was some made up bullshit you fantasised about at 3 AM. “Y/N!” He yelled out your name, anger evident in his voice, as the metal on his seatbelt crashed repeatedly against the plastic, cursing loudly as the driver began to move.

“You couldn’t have fucking waited, could you?!” The loud empty halls in your makeshift home was amplifying your voice. The loud banging of the door was your signal to continue your short rant regarding his unprofessional work, in front of the news outlets that would milk every second that passed in front of them.

“To hell with that, why didn’t you fucking tell me you were going to Japan?” You mocked his tone with a very small voice, removing your heels as you paraded the long hallway, rolling your eyes in the process. Coming to a halt the moment he pulled you back to him with a harsh tug on your wrist. You were quick to react, his face contorting as if confused as to whether he should apologise or continue his facade. “Why should I?” It was a push and pull type of relationship, undoing your dress in front of him was a huge part of the show.

The garment was quick to pool around your feet, swaying your hips gently as you flaunted your white pair of underwear. Moving towards the closet, eyes meeting his through the large mirror. For a moment he paused, taking a few seconds to glance at your body. Taking every curve, every mole, everything he could with such a short amount of time.

“Well, let me see. I’m your husband!”

“Legally, wouldn’t say I voluntarily married you.” You shrugged, grabbing the closest pair of pyjama you found. “Real mature, y/n. It would’ve been nice if I’d gotten a memo, you know?”

“It’s not like you would’ve cared.” You did your best in everything, and right now, pissing him off was on the top of your priorities. Casually grabbing the discarded garment as you walked outside your bedroom, dumping everything in the nearby laundry room, he continued to follow you around like a shadow.

You knew he was pissed. His breathing was a lot harsher, unlike earlier when he was wearing a mask, right now you could see he entirety of his face as he bit his lip in annoyance. “We’re going there, aren’t we?” You nodded, feeling a lot more giddy knowing you did your best to rile him up. Jumping your way towards the kitchen, greeting the maids as you walked over the counter, grabbing a yellow banana.

“Do you seriously think I have no right to know where you are? Is that another privilege I’m not entitled too, hm?”

“Yes, actually. I don’t want you meddling with my business, I want you as far away as possible.” He pursed his lips, placing his hands against his hips as he looked at you dumbfounded. “Contrary to your beliefs, I don’t care about your stupid company. I just want to know if my wife’s safe or if she’s dead.”

“Don’t use the wife card on me, Min Yoongi. Stop acting like you gave a damn about my well-being two weeks ago.” The air conditioning seemed to be working extra harder as the air surrounding the two of you seemed to be a lot more thicker and colder now. His eyebrow slowly arched upwards as he gazed at you, carefully shooting the banana peel inside the automated trash can.

Walking your way towards the fridge to grab a cold glass of water, as he intently gazed at you. “What are you talking about?” You couldn’t help but chuckle at his response, offering him a glass of water before placing it back inside the fridge as you washed it yourself. “I’m just returning the favour, it’s not like I knew where you’ve been the past two months.”

Yoongi was confused, it was amusing to look at him, acting innocently after the crimes he’s committed just three months into the relationship that sealed the two of you towards a muddy path to eternity. “Two months? What?”

“Yes, I don’t fucking know where you’ve been, how you’ve managed to slither past my hands, and how you fucking act like you don’t have a wife at home.” That shut him up. It was silence that followed the short confession you managed to squeeze out after days if trying to keep everything together.

“So to hell with Japan, to hell with you trying to know where I’ve been. Because I’ve been clueless for the past two months, not once did you tell me you were off somewhere.”

It was oddly, fulfilling. To be able to give your pent up emotions some freedom after a few days of relaxation. It was a different kind of satisfaction when you saw the way his face moved, the way his facial features would move with every word that left your mouth. You saw the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, as if figuring out why everything had to happen.

It was at this moment you declared your first victory, moving past him, making sure to touch his shoulder with yours on the way out of the kitchen, locking yourself in your bedroom. Your own personal space, far away from what was intended to be your shared space. Because you and Min Yoongi both appreciated privacy far too much.

It was an immature fight, sure. But that was everything that you and Yoongi had been. Immature lovers who wanted each others’ time for each other, the only thing that you managed to do well was break up publicly and settling everything in private. That was a big enough red flag, however, there was an agreement older than the two of you. Somehow, it managed to slap you both in the back of your heads.

Your relationship with him remained platonic. As if nothing had changed between the two of you, like you were the same pair of lovers who broke up with one another one year ago. Living with him had been many things, it was very exhausting having to keep up with his lifestyle.

It was draining to the point of no return, where you’ve been pushed past all your limits and somehow he chooses to ignore everything instead of addressing it. And it had always been like that, was there not any growth? You assumed there would be some, at least a few, but you thought wrong.

You wanted everything to die out, before proceeding with your plans. The two of you had made an agreement that within the span of two years, you’d be out of the marriage. However, with his brothers growing massively successful, the press made sure to watch almost every movement Min Yoongi made. It doesn’t help that he was private, now that he had to be exposed the media tried its’ best to pry him open. So yes, it had been very exhausting. You only needed two years, and you’d be back to the same situation you had been before.

Eating dinner had been uneventful. It consisted of you looking for the perfect video to watch while sitting in the dining table, your food getting colder every minute that passed. As if you hadn’t had an argument earlier, you had no idea where Yoongi was, whether he was safe or if he was fucking another bitch in the club, hell, maybe he was with someone who could satiate his needs, be there for him, fill up whatever you space you failed to replenish.

Was it painful knowing that? Yes. You could be there for him, you wanted him to at least try and approach you as much as you tried to form a coherent bond with him. It won’t be the same as it was two years ago, but you at least wanted to have a friendship with him. You want the two of you to be able to talk to one another without yelling, cursing. You wanted something to happen, something that was better than your current situation.

Your two weeks in Japan had been the greatest time of your life since your marriage. You’d assume that working there would be no different than if you worked from home, however, there was no empty space in Japan. There was no Min Yoongi reminding you that you were married, yelling that you hated your current life situation and that you wanted to escape. It was a breath of fresh air, but it only lasted for a while, not after his secretary bombarded your secretary.

The door closed with a loud “bang!”. It was something you’ve gotten used to over the course of five months, because you know well enough that Yoongi could never close the door without trying to release his pent up anger. He looked sleek, admittedly, he looked very charming wearing his black turtleneck, and his black coat. But you knew that you needed to stay away, as he removed his shoes, you shut down the television, walking fast while chewing on a piece of kimchi. There was a pause, it was the moment you made eye contact with him.

But you ignored it, walking away with your bowl towards your room. Normally, he’d find you in your room, however, he arrived earlier than usual. Fridays would usually mean that he’d be coming home late, trying to clear up his schedule for the weekends, but he was here in all his glory. “Have you been keeping up with the news?” You were holding a chicken bone, gnawing on it as you were about to pull the door, entering your room, but you were a few seconds late. You shook your head slowly.

He took a few steps closer as he began to open his phone.

“Min Yoongi caught desperately trying to save marriage!”

That was one of the very few articles that had appeared in his phone. Alongside, “Divorce Makes Way For The Newly Wedded Min Couple!” You gave him a shrug, unsure as to what he was waiting for, what reaction he wanted upon showing you mediocre headlines. “Well, I’m glad they’ve reported reliable news.” You could practically see smoke fume out of his nostrils in annoyance. “The fuck do you want me to do? Make a call and tell them no, when we were clearly in the middle of an argument earlier?”

He gritted his teeth, his tongue poking out his cheek as he placed both one of his hands in his hips, the other reaching his forehead as if he was trying to ease a random headache he managed to acquire within the three minutes of talk time you allowed each other to have. “This is the first time they’re seeing us, I’m quite pleased with the reaction.” The sarcasm was dripping off of every word, again, you shrugged. Gently placing the bowl down as you stared at him trying to figure out what he wanted from you.

“You’re a CEO, Min Yoongi. You’re not a performer like your brothers are, this doesn’t mean shit to the millions you earn weekly. None of this matters.” You knew that the reason for this was his brothers’ fame, they were out in the spotlight while he was in the dark. This urged the media to move towards Yoongi’s direction more, as he seemed someone who was more intriguing. Someone who’s name stood out in the crowd, despite not being a public character.

“Do you not care about the reputation you have as an individual?”

“Well in the first place, none of this would have happened if you sat down in your goddamn office chair, like you’re supposed to be doing. Not waiting for me in the airport,”

“Glad you appreciate the effort though, was I supposed to not greet you? After disappearing for two fucking weeks?” He let out a laugh, huffing as he placed down his coat somewhere in the sofa. “You yelled in front of everyone, I asked you to wait, to at least let everything boil down to the moment we were inside the vehicle!” It was a matter of proving who’s fault it really was at this point, it was the same immature fight you’d always have but never seemed to resolve.

“Why do you care so much about everyone else? Why do you care about their opinion, when they barely know you.” That was your conclusion, you halted, and moved towards your room. The bowl was left halfway full in the counter, long forgotten as you’ve lost whatever was left of your will to eat the moment Yoongi presented the news articles he found to be fascinating.

In an attempt to move on from the situation, you distanced yourself from him. The already existing wall between the two of you had only grown taller. You did your best to avoid him, even going as far as checking the CCTVs from your office just to see if he was home, letting him do his nightly routine before proceeding to going home yourself. You wanted no physical interaction, in fact, even the invitation that had been sent for the two of you had been forwarded by him through email.

Even your cellphone numbers had been rendered useless, as you barely talked through messages, not once had he called.

You didn’t know how the night would pan out, you just had to get through this, wear a dress that fit the theme, and pretend that the two of you had been happily married for the past six months. Easy, you thought it’d be easy. However, the void that stood in between the two of you had been way too big to even mend. So, you sat there, tapping your fingers against the soft satin fabric of your dress. Awkwardly licking your lips as you failed to make an eye contact with the man beside you.

You clutched your tiny purse as you had been escorted out of the car by Min Yoongi himself, doing your best to try and act natural. Hooking your hand against his arm, as he cleared his throat in surprise, raising a brow towards your direction as you began to walk the red carpet. Similar to the airport scene, the media was everywhere. In addition to the crowd you’ve managed to form, a bunch of business elites were also waiting for the arrival of the lucky couple, having big names in the business field, wanting to please the two of you for possible collaborations and merges. The two of you were the star of the show.

You began critiquing the way the two of you walked, how his steps were far larger than yours and how you always fell behind. The way your arm awkwardly hung from his, how you attempted to push back stray pieces of hair with your other hand.

Parties had always been your cup of tea, you enjoyed them, you saw them as business opportunities. But for the first time in your life, you lacked the confidence to power through the event, your feet were already worn out from the heels you chose to wear, everything was not going as planned and you were terrified that it showed through. What a hypocrite you were, scolding Yoongi for caring too much despite being anxious yourself.

There was a buffet, wine, champagne, and all of Yoongi’s brothers had also been present. They greeted the two of you, which you happily returned, never missing the sly smirk they gave off especially the way Taehyung laughed at your awkward posture, pointing out that he read the previous articles that mentioned the two of you. The part you dreaded was yet to come, it was at that moment that the old Mr. and Mrs. Choi walked in front of your and began asking you questions.

“You look wonderful tonight!” Mrs. Choi gushed at the two of you, her hands clinging onto yours and Yoongi’s as she began to shake the two of them. You smiled politely, exchanging quiet glances with Yoongi, you were screwed. The old couple loved gossiping, they were familiar with all distributors and were often referred to as the “trusted affiliate” that could juice out everything out of a growing issue in South Korea.

“So do you, I really love your earrings!” You returned the excitement, pointing out wherever your eyes had landed first, so it happened to be her earrings. “Thank you! I got them from Chanel, a little outdated but they do the job.” A few awkward sentences later, they began to ask you about what they were really here for. “I’m so glad the two of you were able to attend, I’ve been anxious since the moment we read the issues, we thought you’d be separating, again.” It was the emphasis on the word again that had Yoongi clenching the glass a little harder, enough for the tips of his finger to turn white. However, his composure remained calm, you gently tapped your heel against his leather shoes.

“Arguments do happen, I’m sure you and mr. Choi have also been victims of small fights every now and then, in the end, don’t we all find ways to resolve these?” He ended by bringing the wine closer to his lips, the dark hue beginning to stain his pink plump lips. The couple laughed.

Navigating a conversation with the Choi’s had always been dangerous, at any moment either one of you could stumble upon a trip mine. On top of this, the lack of communication with Yoongi could lead to possible contradiction of your answers, you didn’t discuss anything nor did you prepare for any interviews.

Their many attempts to find new headlines had almost been unsuccessful, almost. “When are you planning to have kids?” Mr. Choi asked, drinking the sparkling drink in his hand as Mrs. Choi complimented him through her fond eyes.

“Right, it has been six months since the two of you had been married. When are we seeing little Yoongi’s, little y/n’s?” The four of us shared a hearty laugh, “well, my wife and I want more time for each other. Not to say we don’t have any plans in the future, but we don’t intend to have kids as of this moment.” It was a good enough answer, barely any information but it was enough to get a good click worthy title. “Oh, interesting. As much as we’d love to stay, we do have to meet a few more people.”

“We’d leave the two of you be, I’m certain you’d want to talk to hipper and younger guests.”

The two of you gave a polite smile, sighing loudly as they finally left your table. You downed the glass of wine faster than you had done before, the heat in your throat finally easing the tension you’d been feeling. You shared an awkward glance, lightly chuckling after deeming the interaction as somewhat successful.

“You did great,” you praised Yoongi, he started scratching the back of his head as his cheeks glowed in a pink hue, avoiding eye contact for a few seconds. “Who would’ve thought that that would work out?” Biting your lip as you shyly smile at him. It was you getting flustered all over again, similar to how your dimples would show, how you’d look at your feet in order to avoid his stares, those five beautiful years had always been dear to your heart. However, the breakup was almost inevitable.

The two of you were growing at your own pace, while you were busy preparing to be the next CEO, Yoongi had already been managing the company. Although you tried to make ends meet, it still happened. It started with small immature fights, soon it evolved to the days you would fail to meet, bigger arguments emerged, and although you tried your best to settle everything, you were not in the right state of mind. The never ending pressure that erupted from your family, the business meetings, the small problems you encountered in your day-to-day life. Everything collided.

You wanted to find comfort in Yoongi, you wanted him to be the safe space you needed whenever you wanted, but you became selfish. You would tell him everything, disregarding the fact that he too had problems, that he was also suffering considering that a job meant to be split into seven members, were all being handled by one. He tried his best, but on some days it got too much for him to handle, and one day, he finally exploded. He ended the relationship the two of you had, a five year relationship ended in the course of three months.

And now here you were, using your newfound attitude as a way to cope with the heartache that you still feel deep within your heart. Acting like a spoiled kid who was denied for the first time.

What you didn’t know was how much Yoongi had been suffering too. How much he wanted to come to you, and how much he needed to be with you. To him, the arrangement was a blessing in disguise. It felt like a huge blow in the gut when you had suggested a divorce after the noise you’ve made died down, from then he began to feel dejected. Slowly overworking himself, trying his best to distract himself from the fact that you would never be his. The distraction he made soon lead to distance, distance between the two of you.

He tried to act tough around you, spiteful even. But when he remembers how you implicitly rejected his proposal to a life with him, he’d attempt to push through. Putting on this mask as if he was tough, that he was different from the Yoongi you once knew, that he’d no longer be there for you. He halted all of his actions, actions he thought would bring the two of you together. Forming a stronger bond compared to the five years you’ve spent together.

With you acting poorly in front of him, using aggressive retaliation, and him being terrified of the rejection you unknowingly did, your relationship was in a standstill. You were two people who wanted each other, and sadly, there might be no way of knowing that you two did feel the same way.

Despite the flashing lights, the smiles you tried to offer other business associates, you still ended up back into your dark and gloomy house. It was large, had many empty walls and was barely decorated. There was no way of telling if the house was occupied or not, it was far too... professional? It had no character, no visible sign of change, it was bare.

The dark room you managed to inhabit for the past six months reminded you of how lonely you’ve been feeling, how different you were from the persona you tried to play outside of the walls. You’ve grown so accustomed to loneliness that it became such a huge part of your life, you could barely even remember how you acted before you were married to Yoongi, how carefree you were. It was pitiful how a rich, privileged woman like you was stuck inside a place you didn’t feel comfortable in.

It wasn’t the idea of being alone that made you feel lonely, it was living with someone with no physical reaction despite being entitled to at least a little bit of skin-on-skin contact, a hug would’ve been a big help. With these thoughts, you pulled your hand away from Min Yoongi’s as you began to wave the pathway towards the front door. Crossing your arms as you moved in, avoiding him as you made it as quickly as possible towards your bedroom.

Yoongi stood behind the door, for a night that had gone so well, your reaction had been far too harsh. Leaving him as soon as you had the opportunity, as if he were something so toxic to you that you couldn’t even stand being with him, alone, for at least a minute. He felt his chest swell, it wasn’t the good type of swell, it was fucking painful.

Removing his leather shoes, and walking towards the master bedroom, he asked himself what ifs, what if the two of you managed to handle everything more maturely, to the point of having a proper relationship up until now? What if the two of you had really wanted it? Would things be better?

Good grief, of course, things would have been so much better. He cursed himself silently, muttering under his breath as he took the moment to blame himself for just ending the relationship the moment he had the chance too. He didn’t even give himself enough time to process the decision he’d been making. On that same day, he was collected by Kim Namjoon, his brother, in a local bar. He was passed out, his Armani suit reeked of alcohol as he tried his best to push Namjoon away. Telling him desperately that he was fine and that he could drive himself home.

If only fate had been a little forgiving, if only. Coincidentally, on that same night, two establishments away, you’d been busy getting drunk. Two drunk adults had been found passed out, the two of them reeking of alcohol, upset about the same relationship that could’ve been something if it weren’t for their carelessness.

The bitterness of yesterday had easily died down the moment that your nostrils engaged with the familiar scent of coffee, it was an early Saturday morning. The curtains had been automatically opened using an A.I, giving you a marvellous view of the infinity pool outside your room. Stretching your limbs as you carefully stepped outside after putting on your Hello Kitty slippers, you were greeted by your husband doing what he was best at, making coffee.

The situation would’ve been more lax if the two of you were on speaking terms but, you weren’t. He offered you a fresh cup of coffee, something you were quick yo take, a soft “thank you,” escaped your lips before letting the warm liquid pass through. Whilst you stood there in your Sanrio pyjama, the other man stood fully clothed with his suit. He was all geared up for work, something you never quite understood. From what you know about him, he’d always been quite the workaholic, he didn’t have time to pause.

“I’ll be off,” he pursed his lips, forming a thin line of something that resembled a smile. You nodded as you took another sip of the warm coffee. Just like that, he left holding a tumbler with coffee, and his car keys. “Well, at least he bothered this time...” you murmured, walking towards the refrigerator to gather ingredients for your pancakes.

You were busy dancing as you flipped distorted, the television was playing, it served as your background music as you enjoyed the short freedom you had. You made another cup of coffee, bringing the mug and grabbing maple syrup from the cabinet, drizzling it on top of the semi-perfect pancakes. Comfy in your pyjamas, you sat down in the couch and began to dig into the pancakes. You were in the mood, for just basically anything. You were at peace, that was what you felt. Two seconds away from pressing the button to finally turn it off, a scene quickly caught your attention.

The man who made you coffee was the same guy in the TV, Min Yoongi was guesting with his little brother on a survival program, it was about a new girl group awaiting for their debut. Today was the day they get to decide which of the members would be debuting as an official member, as a collaboration between two of the largest entertainment companies Yoongi was called out in order to monitor the members. Hoseok had been a judge since the beginning, here he was sitting next to Yoongi as they made small talk. You paused, holding the empty plate as you grew more intrigued.

Everything was going well, up until they met face-to-face with the trainees. All of the judges reunited with one another, one particular judge, Suran had been quite affectionate with Yoongi. It started with a handshake, that was no big deal, it was a formal exchange between two important judges on the show. It was something normal, very normal.

The show escalated smoothly, rushing towards the kitchen counter as you quickly washed the plate despite the maids offering you their own hands. You jumped towards the couch, and sat down, your heart was racing from the adrenaline rush. But it was all worth it as the show continued. There was nothing that interested you, aside from Min Yoongi, so of course you paid attention to him the most. It caught you by surprise when the camera panned towards their direction, there was a soft voice as Suran held Yoongi’s hand, complimenting his bracelet, making small connections with his hands. “It’s really pretty,” Suran murmured, the host went silent upon noticing the interaction between the two of them.

Yoongi was quick to bow, thanking her as soon as possible. “Your cheeks have gotten really pink!” Hoseok exclaimed, his laughter echoing through the stage. Clapping his hands every once in a while as he continued to make fun of his older brother.

Normally, it wouldn’t be a big deal to you. You weren’t exactly the jealous type. However, with the way you and Yoongi were right now, and how quick he was to react to Suran’s simple compliment, the way they exchanged smiles, how they held eye contact for even a split second. Everything was making your blood boil.

You swallowed hard, it didn’t help that throughout the rest of the show the judges and the trainees kept teasing the two of them. How much did you have to pay for in order to get the same treatment as Suran did? Why did he act that way? Most importantly, how come Yoongi never lets you see this side of him, why does he always have to be mad or annoyed whenever he talked to you? How special was Suran to him that the moment the two of them stood close to one another, they had no trouble navigating through their conversation.

Oh you definitely weren’t jealous, yes you were simply making comparisons and that was natural, right? No, you hated yourself for feeling this way. How come he acted like that around her? Why can’t he act like that around you? You were annoyed at how he moved on, how happy he was. On the other hand, here you were, watching he two of them converse, still moving on from the breakup that had happened more than a year ago. You pitied yourself, you really did. “Fucking hell,” you muttered upon noticing the pooling tears from the corners of your eyes. It was at this exact moment that someone had kneeled before you.

When had he arrived? And why were you only finding out about this. Yoongi was looking at you with a worried look in his face as you desperately tried to hide your face from him, closing your eyes as soon as possible and grabbing the neck hole of your shirt as you lifted it up to cover your eyes. He grabbed the remote control and finally shut down the TV, “shh,” he quietly engulfed you with his body, the scent of his cologne slowly emanating from him. He guided you, lifting you up and walking towards your bedroom, covering your face from the rest of the maids that began to throw looks towards your direction.

It was the humiliation that struck you the most, the fact that he caught you watching his guesting on a show, and somehow found a reason to start getting jealous and ending up in such a pitiful condition which involved crying for affection was beyond you, you didn’t know what had happened. Why did you let yourself do this? You silently cursed yourself. “Baby, what happened?” He had a way with his words, somehow he managed to blend in a nickname, somehow that was enough to remind you what you had lost.

You shook your head repeatedly, trying your best to deny any feelings you showed. Pulling your shirt down, you were forced to meet his eyes, his thumbs found your tear stained cheeks, wiping them off gently as he locked eyes with you. “Why, what’s wrong?” He asked you again, you built up the courage, it was either now or never. “I don’t like seeing you with Suran, no, I don’t like seeing you acting like that around anyone else.” Your hiccups got in the way, but you managed to tell him exactly what you had wanted.

“Y/n...” he paused for a moment.

“How come you act like that around them, while you treat me like this? Why do they get better treatment? I’m your wife Yoongi, how come I get the leftovers while they get full course meals?” You heard how ridiculous you sounded, cringing at your choice of words and the way they flowed out of your lips. But you were humiliated enough, if it were a different situation then maybe you’d be laughing at yourself. “I want you all to me, Yoongi. And I know that it’s not possible, but I want us. I want what we both lost,” his fingers carded through your hair, the other massaged your back in a soothing manner, there was dead silence for a moment.

You knew you lost him.

His arms snaked around you, pulling you in closer to him as he gently placed a kiss on your forehead. He lifted your face up using his thumb, finally he kissed you on your lips. “But you already have me, y/n.” You knew it wasn’t real, there was no way this was happening right now. “You have me,” he muttered against your ear before gently sealing the space left in between your lips.

The tears you poured were all worth it, you knew from that point on that the relationship you once broke had been finally mended. You felt weight being lifted away from your chest.

You were sighing against his lips, fixing your posture as you slowly wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands slowly moving south. Grasping your arse as you shifted your position, sitting on top of his legs. You didn’t know what had taken over you at that point. You were desperate for more. The whine that left your lips wasn’t something you had voluntarily done, the moment he pulled away from you, his lips were a lot more plump. His chest was heaving, he threaded his palms in his hair as he eyed you. The two of you did your best to catch your breath.

It wasn’t the first time you stopped in the middle of doing something so sensual, you’ve always wanted your first with someone who you were willing to fully commit to.

Within the five years that you’ve spent together, Yoongi had always respected your boundaries. He stopped the moment you told him. He was a man of self control, but you knew that at some point he’d eventually reach his peak. Right now, there was nothing else you’d wish for aside from this finally happening. “Do I have you?” His forehead touched yours, his warm breath fanned over your saturated lips, closing your eyes you once again touched his lips.

He groaned against your lips.

Something unusual erupted from inside you, it was something you’ve felt before. Only now, you weren’t doing anything to stop it. Your lips parted, neck bending sideways as your breathing stuttered. His lips began working wonders, never leaving a spot on your neck untouched.

The flame that erupted from inside you began to engulf you, the moment you felt his lips against the side of your jaw, you knew you were done for. You began to slowly move your hips, moaning as you felt him nip slowly against your skin. His hands wandered through every crevice, eventually finding untouched area just below your cute little top.

You moved faster, trying to chase something you weren’t quite sure for, but for a moment you thanked the heavens above for Yoongi’s rough pants. You were a stuttering mess, grinding harder, pushing yourself even deeper against his thighs as you tried to reach something, just anything. You knew you were close, so close.

His hands worked wonders under your shirt, already unclasping your garment. Yoongi gave you all of his attention, which is why your heavy breathing didn’t go unnoticed. You were inches away from reaching that something, however, he pulled you away from your rhythm with one quick nip against your jaw, his hands clasping against the flesh of your arse, coming to a disagreement as he pulled onto them, giving you a quick slap.

“Yoongi,” you didn’t know if you were pleading him, maybe it came to you out of instinct, annoyance, you weren’t sure. But you were in too deep, you could honestly cry if he didn’t give you what you needed at that moment.

A low chuckle erupted from him, his chest moving against yours, reminding you of how close the two of you were. “Patience baby, this is your first time...” he gave you a quick peck. Holding the hem of your shirt as he gently lifted it off of you, catching his breath at the sight of your bare breasts. Hands finding their natural position as he flipped the two of you, you head cushioned against the pillows as you stared at his eyes, completely captivated by how desperate he looked, how desperate he wanted to lay his hands against your perky buds.

Starting from your lips, he made his way slowly downwards, making sure to nip the exact spot he knew to be sensitive, at this moment you hadn’t bothered to check if he was leaving marks, but with the time he took to make his way where you had wanted him, you would honestly be pissed off if you didn’t have any. He suckled on one of your breasts, making you arch your back off of the soft mattress. Gasping loudly at the newfound sensation, a drug you were exposed too for the first time, you felt his smirk. Long slender fingers began to touch the other, only adding more to the pleasure, making sure that neither of your mounds felt left out.

He pulled out of the other with a pop, mouth lingering downwards, kissing around your belly button before making its’ way towards the other one. The light illuminated the signs he left on your other boob, out of curiosity you touched your gleaming bud while he put all of his attention on the other. It was far more sensitive, your breathing had turned harsh, your throat felt constricted as you failed to let out moans, Yoongi’s ears were filled with nothing but short gasps. Your hips used your legs as support trying to get any form of contact, however, Yoongi’s legs never faltered. You only grew more desperate with every minute his lips dwelled on your breast.

Your underwear would surely be clinging onto your lips by now, you were irritated by the fabric, you wanted more, you needed it off of you.

“Yoon, please,” tears were pooling by the corner of your eyes, despite begging Yoongi whilst grinding your hips against his body, your hands grounded him against your breast. You were dazed, as if you were drowning and yet you didn’t want to be pulled out of the water, it was painful, and yet you indulged in it. It was a newfound addiction you knew you didn’t want to let go off, it was driving you crazy, towards the edge of all the boundaries you wanted to break.

He hummed, sending vibrations through your chest, you moaned loudly. You chased your breath, trying your best to calm down as he lapped your breast. You groaned even harder, protesting and demanding for something else. He grounded your hips with one of his hands, forcing you to lay still as he let go of your breast.

“God, y/n,” he left his words hanging, you lay still catching your breath as you tried to process what was happening. Sweat trickled from his neck, temporarily staining his black top. His hair was a mess, something you were responsible for, desperately clinging onto it as he showed you undiscovered territory with the small flicks of his tongue. Gently kissing your lips, you let out a sigh of relief upon feeling his calloused fingers against the material of your bottoms.

Raising your hips as you he managed to pull your underwear and your pyjamas at the same time. He pulled away from the kiss, appreciating your naked figure, his mouth was slightly open as he drunk in every detail of your body. You had nothing left to hide, lifting your chest slightly off the bed, flaunting your curves.

The moment he was able to process everything that was laid before him, he knew he was screwed. Memorising every detail, even the small mole in your thigh, everything was imprinted in his head. He knew that he’d be having a hard time from this day forward.

“A fucking goddess,” he murmured under his breath, making eye contact with you as he gently dived down, spreading your legs farther away from each other. Slowly, you revealed your entire body to him. He felt like wanton, appreciating the way your tight nether lips gently opened for him, slick evident in your thighs caused by the never ending squeeze of your legs a few minutes ago when he’d been too busy appreciating your breasts.

You looked away from him, it dawned you how exposed you had been. The way he was fully clothed, with nothing but unruly hair as evidence of the sensual act you’d been committing, you felt humiliated. Despite the fact that he was on his knees, attempting to make an eye contact right below you, you knew he was in control. He gave quick pecks just below the area you had wanted him most, “look at me,” warm air hitting your womanhood. You were innocent in this sense, everything he’d been making you feel was a first to you.

“Y/N,” he licked the inside of your thighs, and when you refused to look at him for the second time, he pulled you downwards. Like a rag doll made for him. His tongue darted straight to your clit, you’re knees felt like jelly. Closing your thighs as a response to the sudden movement, his arms we’re quick enough to wrap around your thighs, forcing them open as he let his tongue lick through the mess you’ve managed to create.

He suckled on your clit, as if licking it gently weren’t enough. Leaving open mouthed kisses, as he pushed onto the sensitive bundle of nerves using his wet appendage. You desperately hold on to the sheets, crinkling them, using your arms as support as you tried your best to hold on for your dear life. You could feel every movement he made, the way his tongue desperately tries to enter your tight hole, the way his lips would wrap around your clit, the way he would smirk after hearing you moan his name repeatedly.

“Shit, Yoongi!” You’re voice called out to him, a tad bit louder than your moans. You gasped for air, hands wrapping around his hair, legs quivering upon the new sensation that set fire to your entire body. He continued to lap your cunt, your lips growing even tighter around his tongue. The sounds he’d been able to produce was enough to drive you to the edge. Hearing how loud he was able to make your cunt sound was beyond you.

A few short breaths, the quick tug in your stomach, and the elated beating of your heart. It came crashing down on you.

You did your best, trying to close your thighs as it began to feel too much, beads of sweat trickled down your forehead as you clung onto his dark hair. With one last gasp, and the closure of his lips, you came with a yell of his name. Your release was greeted by his lips, drinking you in like his favourite wine, overwhelmed by the stimulation you felt you begged him to stop. You rode your high against his muscle, finally, he pulled away.

His chin was gleaming, signs of your release scattered around his lips. Using his thumb, he picked it up. “Open,” he raised one of his brows towards your direction, you looked at him in confusion only to follow his orders. You were greeted by his thumb, you sucked on it, not hesitating despite tasting your own cum. He pulled it out only to replace it with his mouth, sharing the familiar taste, on a regular day it would’ve been odd, but to hell with it.

Whining against him, you tugged his sweater, demanding it be discarded somewhere in the expanse of your room. Chuckling once more he finally pulled away, with a quick flick of his wrist, he threw his top somewhere. You were greeted with a body you weren’t used too. He’s been working out, oh, he’s definitely been working out.

The way his chest moved as he heaved on top of you, the way his arms would flex and the veins that crawled from his hand to his shoulder, as if he was carved by the greatest sculptors. You swallowed harshly. God, he was fucking gorgeous.

You were brought back to reality when his finger poked your entrance, biting your lip as you watched in fascination, the way you wrapped around him, the way it quivered after its’ peace had been disrupted for the first time. Pumping his hand slowly as his eyes never left yours, watching the way your face would contort with every movement, closing your eyes as tightly as you could, soaring higher than the clouds that you had to remind yourself to breath every once in a while.

He felt you flesh, making slow movements as he tried different angles, deciding which one made you moan the loudest. Finally, he found your spot. His movements getting a lot harsher by the second, “god damn it, Yoongi.” You cursed him under your breath, gasping as he went faster and faster. “You think you can take more, baby?” his voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the way his hand moved harshly against your weeping cunt.

“More, please, more,” you chanted your mantra. Your wetness spreading to the rest of his fingers, a second one slipping into the mix. His movements were fast, but not fast enough. You tried to meet his thrusts, his eyebrow cocking upwards at the way you moved below him, observing how desperately you wanted to reach your climax for the second time tonight. “Who would’ve thought you’d be this desperate for my fingers, hm?” His voice getting lower and lower throughout the duration of the sentence.

You were in your own little bubble, his hand quickly surging forward, scissoring his fingers apart in an attempt to get you more loose, to get you to open up for him. Two fingers weren’t enough. Gasping as you felt his fingers do their best to stretch inside your needy little hole, his other hand reaching forward as he tried to distract you from the sudden movements he made inside.

Your clit was getting stimulated, while his other hand pumped even faster. You’re mind went blank, unsure as to what Min Yoongi had been saying for the past few minutes. You assumed you would reach your limit at any second, however, you felt a jolt of pain when he inserted his third finger. Cursing loudly as you held his hand, your breathing growing more shallow. He pumped his hand a little harsher, giving an emphasis to the three fingers he had inside of you.

He pulled the other away from your clit and stilled his movements, you tried to move away from his hand, doing your best to form coherent thoughts as you were torn between pushing even deeper or pulling away. You gasped for air, feeling him kiss your cheek as his deep voice murmured against your ear, “you’re going to need more than two if you want us to go all the way in, baby.”

Jesus Christ, how big was his cock?

These were your exact thoughts, “a minute, Yoongi.” You did your best to relax, forcing your hold to relax as he held his hand steady your cunt desperately in need of action. His other hand went back to massaging your clit, while the remaining began pumping in a slower manner. Despite getting used to the feeling of having three fingers inside of you, it was still too much for your tight unused cunt. However, it made you feel something, soon, the pain was ebbing away. “Faster,” you wish you hadn’t told him that, as his palm began hitting your clit in an abusive manner, driving you over the edge.

The strange feeling began to build up inside of you, his pace grew faster, faster, and faster. Before you knew it, you came undone. You pushed his fingers away, your legs shaking as you desperately closed them. Despite not having anything inside of you, the pleasure was still very evident. You opened your eyes to a wet Min Yoongi, realisation dawned you. “Fucking hell,” he smirked, shushing you gently as he pried your legs open, observing the quivering hole that once sheltered three of his fingers.

You had squirted.

It explained so much, the way the sheets were damp, the way his chest had been shining, your cheeks were flushed.

Your eyes found his bulge, restrained by his belt and the rough material of his pants. You didn’t know what had taken over you, but you wanted his cock. You wondered what else he could make you feel. “Want your cock, Yoongi, please. Need it so bad,”

“Do you think you could handle more?”

You nodded eagerly, despite the dwindling tiredness in your eyes, you knew you still wanted one thing just before you pass out. You wanted to explore how much you could take, what else you could possibly feel, you wanted everything. Desperation. You were desperate for everything that Min Yoongi could give you. “Please,” that was all it took to push Yoongi over the edge. His pants and his boxers had been discarded in a flash, you gazed at him, specifically at the massive thing between his thighs.

You gasped.

Maybe you were taking more than you could afford to take, upon seeing the worried look in your face, Yoongi was quick to comfort you. Telling you that there was no rush in taking things this far, but with a quick roll of your wet cunt against his hard cock, he ceased his words. Letting a growl erupt from his chest as he moved his cock against your pussy. “You’re a beast, y/n.” Positioning his manhood against your wet hole, slowly entering you. Just his tip felt massive enough, the tears that threatened to spill earlier, were full on leaking out of your eyes as you shut them.

Gasping loudly, making an inaudible noise as you felt his tip enter you tiny little opening. “Taking me in so well,”

“Pussy still tight after taking all three of my fingers, you’re a fucking whore.” He stilled his movements, pausing every once in a while as he was slowly hugged by your body. “Ha-ah,” you moaned as he pushed it in even further. “How are you this fucking big,” your manicured nails marred the flesh of his back, marking it with small little crescents. He ignored your remarks, instead he focused on how he’d possibly fit everything in you. You thought you’d be ripped in half when he first entered his third finger, however, at this point you were certain you’re literally split into two. His monstrous cock doing its’ best to intrude your virgin walls.

Inch after inch you felt your sanity being washed away from your body, for a split second you knew your soul lifted away. Your eyes rolling back as he continued to penetrate you with his massive manhood, tiny scars forming in his back from how hard you gripped him. His thumbs sinking on your hips in an attempt to keep you grounded as he pushed himself in. The only warning you got was a quick peck on your forehead before he pushed to the hilt. You yelled, back arching off of the comfortable mattress, your tears staining your cheeks. With the way his breathing became shaky, how his words would falter and the short pauses he took in order to process the idea of having him spear through you in its’ entirety, he was over the fucking moon.

Moving away from him in an attempt to ride him, he couldn’t help but laugh at the desperate actions you took just to get fucked. Pulling out until its’ just his tip before harshly slamming back down, knocking the air out of your lungs as you tried to form coherent sentences, before giving up halfway through and just yelling his name repeatedly. “Ruining your tight fucking cunt for everyone else,” his breathing was harsh, he came in raging inside of you. Harsh pain emerging from your pussy as you took your first and last cock, biting down on your lip as you tried to calm yourself down.

Pulling your perked up nipples before releasing them with a pop, adding more pleasure to the large intrusion in your walls. You couldn’t hear anything, the only thing you could process was the filthy sound your cunt made against his balls. The discernible wet noises, the way the bed creaked against the wall, the way he heaved on top of you, for a split second the two of you owned the world. His lips met yours, his gentle kiss was far different from his rigorous thrusts.

Just when you thought he couldn’t go any faster, he’d prove you wrong with the next. Marking your neck with more purple hues, making you completely his, giving an emphasis on every suck with a harsh thrust, ending it with a gentle kiss on your exposed flesh. You knew you were going to be sore the next day.

Assisting your legs, wrapping them around his waist, he felt your cunt clench around him. “You’re close aren’t you, your cunt clenching around me, refusing to let go of my cock.”

“You’re mine, y/n. No one can ever fuck you the same way as I do,” he growled against your ear as his pace started getting harsher. You couldn’t keep up with him, the next thing you knew you were a shaking mess before him. Coming undone and clenching him, making your pussy a lot more tighter. You tried to push him away, you had already come undone three times in one night, you didn’t know if you had the capacity to cum once more.

However, all you got out of him was an apology, pounding even harder with the added pressure of his thumb circling around your clit repeatedly. “Carving my dick inside of you, because you’re all mine,” You whined in protest, more tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you tried to keep your composure. The pain of overstimulation taking over your entire body, you were all worn out.

Despite all the earlier attempts to push him off, at this point you had no energy left. So you took it all, growing far more needy for another gush of liquid in your cunt, yelling out gibberish as his pace slowly began to falter. Biting your lip, closing your eyes, you felt another tug in your stomach. As if your first orgasm had never ended, you were cumming, for the last time, hopefully.

“All. Fucking. Mine.” With each word he thrusted harder, you felt warm liquid painting your walls white as you choked out a sob. Clinging onto him as he gently pulled out. Meeting your eyes and gently wiping away your tears, jokingly slapping his arm afterwards. “The audacity you have, after doing it so roughly.” His gums appeared in front of you, the same gummy smile that made your heart bloom finally appearing once again.

He kissed your forehead before tucking you in bed, the sticky feeling from the sheets only making you wince. He stretched out his back before walking towards your bathroom, soon enough you heard the shower. Despite the icky and sick feeling of the sheets, you managed to take a 30-minute nap, only to be woken up by Yoongi gently blowing on your face. “Let’s go upstairs...” he whispered softly, pulling you up, as he wrapped your robe around you.

Carrying you as if you weighed nothing, as he walked around the house with nothing but his towel wrapped around his waist. For the first time in months, you finally got to see how his bedroom looked like. You groaned in pain after he put you down against the grain of his marble counter. Grabbing a wash cloth and rubbing the damp towel all over your body, using warm water, finally cleaning up the mess he’s managed to make. Dressing you up in a pair of your own pyjamas he must’ve gotten earlier.

You clung onto him like a baby koala afterwards, forcing him to lay down with you in his bed. The scent of pine trees covered the silk sheets, accompanied by his favourite cologne from Paco Rabanne.

Just as if a year of separation hadn’t happened, you found your way clinging to his body the same way you did when the two of you had been dating. The small peck on top of your head was nothing unusual, the instinct of having his arm gently wrap around you after such a tiring day from work. Slowly, everything pieced itself. You wondered just how you lived through a year without him, how much you wished you’d spent it together.

He inhaled your scent, closing his eyes as he felt the satisfaction rushing in his veins. “I love you, y/n... so much, so, so, much.” He whispered against your ear, lips finding your temple as he gave you another kiss. Telling you how much he appreciated you, terrified that somehow the two of you would find your way back to the same place you ended up in, all alone and in desperate need of comfort from each other. Yoongi took his time to tell you all the sweet nothings he wished he told you before you separated.

By the end of the day, the two of you were just thankful you’d finally found your way back home.

#bts #bts smut #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #bts imagine #bts imagines #min yoongi smut #suga smut #agust d #agust d smut #min yoongi imagine #suga imagine #bts x reader #bts x you #yoongi imagine #arranged marriage #arranged marriage au #bts au

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winchesterxxi · 4 years ago

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Enough is Enough (Poe Dameron x Reader)

Rating: T (Teen and Up)

Type: Angst

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Female!Reader

Summary: Reader and Poe have been arguing for over a week and completely avoiding each other. This has come to the attention to the person that happens to be your third wheel most of the time - Finn. Along with BB8 and Rey they come up with a plan to get the two of you talking.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Swearing

A/N: I’m back baby.

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It’s only 8am on a Monday and you already feel like murdering people.

Your fiancé to be exact.

As soon as your alarm had sounded across the room, you jumped out of bed and headed to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You brushed your teeth and hair, got dressed and walked out into the bedroom, striding across it and out the other door.

Poe was awake, facing the door, and he saw you walk out, eyes trailing after your back but a scowl firm on his face. He really had fucked up, and he knew it. But for fuck’s sake, you’re both adults, if you are going to give him the silent treatment like a child, he is not above doing the same to you.

So out he goes. He rises from the bed, tired hand running through his unruly curls at the same time as a yawn proceeding to complete his morning routine, before striding across the same path as you, grabbing his pilot jacket in the process.

The cantina was packed – it’s a Monday morning, of course it is. Pilots, mechanics and Resistance workers from all branches crammed along the trayline trying to get the freshest pieces of toast or the juiciest pieces of fruit before the others could get to them.

Poe doesn’t blame them. Most of these people were either on the brick of hunger and homelessness or being deprived of their needs by the Empire before they had been recruited the Resistance and the fact that they now had warm meals every day for which they paid with their own sweat, was something to be cherished.

The latter case resembled that of Finn who he spotted at one of the tables, and he made a b line to seat next to his friend. Upon getting closer he noticed that Finn was sitting in front of Rey who, in her turn was sitting next to…you.

That’s fine. This is fine. This is absolutely fine.

Before going to the table, Poe decides to take a detour and get some breakfast before sitting down. Because he was hungry. Not because this would buy him some time before inevitably sitting down in front of you and try to contain the immense annoyance you’ve been causing him for the past week.

After a few moments, Poe looks down at his tray and its fullness, food about to spill out – more food than he could ever possibly stomach. He closes his eyes and sighs before an Ewok is pushing him away from where he stood in front of the pastry baskets. Straightening himself back up, Poe finally walks up to the table, flashing a smile at Finn before setting his tray down next to him and sitting in front of you.

When he passes your side you can sense his cologne invade your nostrils and, somehow, that only makes you angrier.

“Morning, pilot.” Rey teases but her smile quickly retracts once she spots the scowl on both your faces, looking from Poe to you and to him again. Finn senses the heavy energy and eyes Rey who gives him a silent clueless shrug.

“So,” Finn asks “what plans does the Dameron couple have for today?”

It’s as if the guy read your minds.

“I don’t know of any couple that goes by that name.” You mumble into your spoon of oatmeal and Poe’s eyes zero in on you.

Panic flashes across Finn and Rey’s once they hear you. Did the two of you break up? Is the wedding off?

“People are individuals, you know, Finn.” You settle down your spoon and turn your face to him, elaborating with a tone that had a slight taint of menace in it “Even though a couple is in a relationship they remain individuals.” You point the tone in word individuals, eyes narrowing to the man in front of you. Rey and Finn exchange a look.

“The fact that people are individuals doesn’t mean they can’t share a part of the other’s identity.” He snakes into the rim of his cup of coffee, eyes never leaving yours.

“It does if that meant they had to give up a part of their own identity.” You snap back, voice low.

“I’m not sure I follow.” Rey wavers and looks between the two of you.

“Thing is, Rey.” You turn to her “and Finn… there is no Dameron couple. There is a Poe Dameron and Y/N Y/L/N couple. But I’m not even too sure of that now.”

Poe puts his mug of coffee down a little too abruptly as he leaned forward, elbows on the table.

“Are you really that entitled?”

“I’m the one who’s entitled? Have you heard yourself speak lately?” you mimic his movements, leaning forward on your own side of the table

“Why is it such a big deal for you?”

“Because it’s who I am!” you borderline-scream and get all of the cantina’s attention drawn to you, specifically those of the two people sitting next to you, looking in shock at your sudden outburst, which they’d never even gotten a glimpse of.

You and Poe hold each other’s gaze for a long while, focused on nothing but each other and the mix of rage and hurt rumbling inside of you. And when you can’t help your lips from trembling and your eyes to burn with tears, you swear you can see something break inside of him.

He himself swore he was about to break this stupid game the minute he saw your face. For the glimpse of a second, he felt like reaching his hand up to cup your face, or to hold your hand or to stroke your jawline in that way that calmed you down. But before he could act on his impulses, you stormed out of the cantina, leaving behind your cooling breakfast and a torn Poe.

“What did you do?” Rey asks horrified at what she just witness and somewhat ready to throw fists at the man who seemingly broke her friend’s heart.

“It’s not what I did it’s what I said.” He mumbles and stands up from his own seat and, just like you, leaving behind an untouched tray of food and a half cup of coffee while Finn and Rey follow him with their gaze.

It was nice of Rey to ask you to go out for drinks tonight. Not just that, but she didn’t ask questions – she didn’t throw you a pity what was that about? or are you okay? Because it obviously wasn’t. It wasn’t and you don’t think it would ever be again.

So here you were, walking into a low-light bar in Canto Bight in your favourite pair of dress and shoes with nothing in your mind but the drink you were eager to order and the friend you were looking forward to meeting – a luxury that, just a few months ago would not have been possible. When you’re fighting for your own survival, a night at the bar isn’t exactly your top priority, but that was in the past.

Straightening yourself up, you smooth your dress and walk over to the table with the number she had told you – number 15. Upon reaching it, you sat down facing the door and nudging away the waiter who comes by to ask if you’d like a drink. There was no way in the galaxy you were starting the drinking night alone. Maker knows how that would end.

It had just been a few minutes of fidgeting with the table towel when you look up to the bar’s entrance and your eyes meet the last person you wanted to see. Poe. And damn, if it weren’t for the current situation he would’ve knocked the wind right out of you.

He looked good. Shinny curls and a fresh face with his good leather jacket. He looked really good. And you hated him for that.

He didn’t quite spot you until he was halfway across the bar in the direction you were sitting in, eyes coming into focus on your figure as you quickly stood up and took a small step back. Standing to your full height, Poe swears he’d never seen you look so perfect, which made the energy between the two of you all the more painful.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, hugging your arms close to your body.

“I’m here to meet Finn.” He replies, hands nervously spasming by his side, a habit you’d come to know and love.

“On this table?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m here to meet Rey.” You answer quietly, scoffing.

“It’s a two people table.” He says matter-of-factly.

“And they’re not here.”

“But we are.”

Realization struck the both of you and Poe runs a hand over his exasperated face as you throw your head back and close your eyes. He sighs deeply before bringing one hand up to his hip.

“Can we then at least talk?”

You scoff at him.

“No.” Is your simple one-word answer before you try and make your way to the door, which he blocks.

“Y/N –“

“No. Are you going to let me pass?” he doesn’t move.

“For fuck’s sake Y/N.”

You scowl and turn around striding to where you know to be an elevator – if you can’t get out, at least you can go up. At this point, being on a different floor was enough. You can hear him mumbling words behind you but you try to pay him no intention, beyond grateful that the elevator’s doors opened as soon as you clicked the button.

“Fuck you Dameron.”

Stepping in, your not quick enough to press the closing button before Poe is slithering between the almost-closed doors and stepping into the same space as you.

“Oh, now you’re okay with using my last name?”

“When addressing you? Yeah, totally.” You nudge him so you can reach the buttons and press R for rooftop. He does a double-take on you before running his fingers across all the floors. You look up at him incredulously. “Really mature.”

“Mature is talking. And we are going to talk.”

“There is nothing to talk about!”

“Will you talk to me?”

“I don’t want t---” you were about to scream when the elevator came to a halt and you stumbled into Poe’s arms, before standing right up, the lights above you flickering.

“Great! Just what we needed.” he throws his hands up in the air, and now you really thought you could slap him across his beautiful face.

“Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t pressed all the buttons like a kid!”

- Meanwhile, above the elevator -

“BB8.” Finn whisper yells from the open door, three floors above. “How long can you hold them?”

The poor droid, with his little tools stuck in the flashing wires, beeps in response.

“He said maybe 5 more minutes.” Rey translates, before flopping back on the floor and away from the open door and the empty elevator space. After a few moments in silence, she nudges Finn’s side.

“Don’t you think this is adding fuel to the fire?”

“They just need to talk. Plus they’ve been avoiding each other. We’re doing them a favour.”

- Back on the elevator –

Taking in a deep breath you lean back against one of the elevator’s golden mirror walls.

“Why did you get like that when I said I wanted to keep my name?”

“I… do you really hate the idea of being called a Dameron so much?” his voice is small as he stands in the middle of the floor, eyes searching yours.

“It’s not that! I just… I hate the idea that just because we’re getting married I need to give up being called by my last name. I never wanted that! It’s not because it’s you. I told myself that if I ever was to get married I’d never take another man’s name.” Tears are back at pooling at the corners of your eyes as you turn your head slightly to look into Poe’s sad face.

“Or maybe you just don’t want to be known as the ex-spice-runner’s-wife.” His statement is but a whisper as his voice gets caught in the back of his throat and you have never seen him this close to tears.

That’s what does it for you. That’s what makes you reach forward and grab his warm face in your hands, guiding him to look at you.

“Hey, hey… That is not true. Don’t you ever think that. I love you. I love you for who you were, who you are and who you’re yet to be… which I hope to be there to cherish.” The tears roll down both your cheeks as a breathy chuckle leaves you. “It’s not about your name. It’s about mine. And I… it really hurt me when you said those things. Acting as if me keeping my name was a sin or something.”

He averts your gaze, looking at the floor but you motion his face back to where it was.

“Hey. Here…” you guide one of his hands to where your heart beats “I’m already a Dameron. Have been for a long time. Just not on paper. And at the end of the day… what is more important?”

It’s his turn to cup your face and bring his forehead close to yours. “I’m so sorry. I was an idiot… thank you for…this.”

“No, thank you.”

His hands are the ones that pull your face up and wipe a stray tear from the corner of your eye, before stroking your cheekbones with a feather-light touch.

“You look beautiful-- ”

“I love you.”

It’s a short and exasperate sentence, but you’ve gone almost two weeks without saying it and Maker, how you missed the way it sounded and the way it felt rolling out of your lips. Poe could say the same, the deprivation of that sentence that he has suffered sending a bolt of warmth across his body as if this were your first date all those years ago.

For a moment your eyes cross, but before too long he is lunching forward and capturing your lips in his. The tears came again as he held onto the kiss as if that was the only thing keeping him alive.

You were reluctant to pull away from the sweet embrace, but you did. And you were met with the sweet smile you had missed.

“What do we say we go downstairs… I have a feeling there’s a table waiting just for us.” He jokes, running a quick hand over his watery eyes and you chuckle at the timely joke.

“Yeah, yeah… I’d like that.” You smile, grabbing his cheek and kissing it once again. And, as if on queue. The elevator starts working again, lights flickering for a few seconds, and the only button that was on was that of the Ground floor from which you were trying to get away from just a few minutes before.

Little did the two of you know that attached to the roof of the elevator was a happy BB8 as the compartment went down and, just a few floors above, two very content Resistance members, high-fiving.

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pippytmi · 3 years ago

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Howdy! For the little au trope prompt ask. 2, 2, 39. Supercorp please. Thank you! (Hope it helps your writer's block!)

Everyone knows that when the Quidditch season starts, rivalries begin.

As a general rule, Lena doesn’t mind the Gryffindors. If she had to pick a house she hated, the Slytherins would be the unfortunate lot; Veronica Sinclair and Andrea Rojas alone give the group a bad name. (That could be Lena’s own personal bias, given the fact that both girls have broken her heart, but she maintains it goes far deeper than that). But the point stands—Lena isn’t a hateful person. Generally.

There is just something about Kara Danvers that brings it out of her. The one and only Gryffindor that Lena despises is that moronic, reckless Chaser who scores nearly every single goal she takes. The Ravenclaw team is nothing to sneeze at either, but Lena hates that of all people to throw her off her game, it is a girl who blew up her broom when attempting to fly on it during her first year. Seven years that she has known Kara, and still Lena is annoyed at the mere sight of those perpetually-askew glasses, those untucked robes, that undone tie; Kara Danvers is never expected to be poised and perfect, even with all the expectations on her shoulders. She’s just so...blasé. People talk about Kara like she is destined to join a Quidditch team straight out of Hogwarts and all Kara does is stroll into the Great Hall on game day with her head in the clouds.

So far up the clouds that she apparently can’t watch where she is going, either. Lena throws Kara the nastiest glare she can muster when they just about knock each other’s heads together, but all Kara does at the sight of it is grin. She always grins, not in a way that is arrogant or snide, but stupidly amused. Stupidly amused, as if everything Lena says or does is a bloody laugh, like Lena’s simmering hatred is nothing more than an inside joke.

“Hey, Luthor,” Kara says cheerfully, and there she goes, pushing those crooked glasses up her nose. There is a scratch on one lens, and Kara has either not noticed or not bothered to repair it. “Trying to take out the competition a little early, even for you.”

“You were the one in my way, Danvers,” Lena replies tightly.

“Was I?” And here is the kicker, that golden girl charm that fools everyone: bright blue eyes peeking out beneath those eyelashes, hand rubbing at the back of her neck, undone tie slipping an inch further. Kara tilts her head unassumingly as if that is even an actual question.

It makes Lena furious. “Here’s a tip,” she says, “for here and the Quidditch field. Maybe if you got your head out of your ass, you could actually see where you’re headed.”

Kara has the audacity to look affronted. “Is this because of the Brainy incident during training? Because he and I agreed that it was a joint effort. Joint…blame. Whatever you call it.”

Lena rolls her eyes. “Just keep your aggression to yourself, Danvers,” she mutters, and then she resolutely brushes past. She has no time for blank, witty banter, especially when this is the year’s first game and she has a team to rally.

“My—? Hey,” Kara’s voice rings out, louder than necessary, and that idiot is actually following her. “Hey, wait. Lena. Do you seriously think I’m aggressive? It was an accident! Both times!” A beat. “I mean both the Brainy thing and right now. I didn’t knock into Brainy twice. I did knock James off his broom once, but you probably don’t care about that since he’s not from your house, so…well anyway, just so you know, that was also an accident.”

“I have zero interest in your training squabbles,” Lena says exasperatedly, “and you’d do well to keep that in mind.”

“Oh so this is about the Brainy incident,” Kara says. “How many times do I have to say that the training pitch was ours?”

“According to you,” Lena counters. With that she whirls around, nearly colliding into Kara’s chest, but she still manages to lift her head up high and stare down that egotistical jackass. “I know you might think you’re entitled to any space you waltz into, but some of us mere mortals actually schedule training sessions. You know, like we’re supposed to.”

“I did schedule the—!” Kara has a tendency to become flustered mid-argument, it seems, because her mouth opens but no words come blustering out. Finally she settles on scowling when she declares, “You are a piece of work, you know that? Would it kill you to apologize to me once in a while?”

“That would imply that you have apologized to me at some point,” Lena scoffs. “Which you haven’t, for the record.”

“Yes I have,” Kara is quick to disagree.

Lena crosses her arms; it’s a challenge, and Kara immediately stands a little straighter when she notices. “Oh?” Lena prompts. “Like when?”

“Like…when I knocked into Brainy.”

“I fail to see how I fit in that scenario,” Lena says, “since you didn’t break my nose.”

Kara gives a little huff, as if this back and forth is all so inconvenient right now; as if she hasn’t instigated it. “Okay, but I apologized for disrupting your practice, remember? I took complete responsibility even though it was your fault you couldn’t keep track of when your team was scheduled—”

“That was not an apology. You literally said ‘Sorry Luthor, we need this more than you do’ and then refused to leave for the next half hour!”

“But I said sorry in there, ergo, it is an apology.”

“Well then, when my team beats yours to dust I’ll be sure to apologize properly for that in that exact same sympathetic manner,” Lena sneers.

Somehow, trash talk only makes that dumb, signature Kara Danvers grin come back, completely wiping away any sign of vexation. “Oh yeah? Tell me more, wise old Ravenclaw—”

Before Lena can even begin to dissect that childish comeback (and stupid sing-songy imitation of the Sorting Hat), other students come filtering down the hall and they are practically swept up in the masses. One kid completely shoulders Lena before she even realizes what’s happening; she stumbles to the left, nearly collides with the wall, and opens her mouth to shout, but then:

“Hey!” Kara is already brandishing her wand with one hand and catching the boy’s collar with the other. “Ten points from Hufflepuff! You could’ve hurt someone, walking around without looking where you’re going.”

Lena bites her tongue to stop from making a quip on how ironic that statement is, because Kara is engrossed in a stare-off with the pimply sixth year who is demanding to see her prefect badge to prove Kara can even take points. She would normally side with the kid—anything to knock Kara Danvers down a peg—but, well. For once, Lena can’t be bothered to actively hate someone getting into a heated argument on her behalf.

Two minutes later and the boy stomps off with ten points gone from his house and a detention to boot. Kara, meanwhile, is still frowning as he leaves. “Are you okay?” she asks absentmindedly, still tracking the kid’s every movement with her eyes. “I swear, if there weren’t so many witnesses I would’ve hexed him.”

“Winning move for a prefect, I’m sure,” Lena says dryly, and Kara turns towards her with that slow-growing buffoonish smile and another sheepish nudge of her glasses. Her next words kind of just fall out, almost as if she’d never formed them in her mouth but in the deep recesses of her subconscious alone: “You know, you confuse me.”

“Huh?” Another nudge. The smile slips a fraction, but just enough to show Kara is slightly confused by the change in subject.

You confuse me, Lena wants to repeat. You are the opposite of self-aware. You are messy, and reckless, and selfless whenever it counts and it’s confusing because all I can really hate you for is being able to get away with being imperfect and still be adored by everyone.

But none of those words, thankfully, leave her head. All she says is, “Your approach to discipline confuses me. It’s not like he purposely tried to run into me—ten points might have been too harsh.”

“This coming from the girl who once threatened to curse me into oblivion for tripping her when we were twelve?” Kara’s eyebrows shoot up. “Who are you and what have you done to Lena Luthor? No, hold on, I know. You’re really Jess in disguise, right?”

“Hilarious, Danvers. I wouldn’t quit Quidditch, it might be the only place you’re suited for,” Lena mocks, but all Kara does is laugh.

“Nope, definitely Lena,” Kara says, and the way she says it is almost…fond. Come to think of it, Lena can’t remember a time where Kara actually called her Lena. It’s always Luthor and Danvers and stop breaking the faces of my best players and never—never anything else.

Lena clears her throat and looks away; she can’t take another second of those warm, bright eyes. “Whatever,” she says. “I…guess I’ll see you on the pitch.”

“Sure thing,” Kara says, and she takes a step back, tucking her wand into her pocket. “I’ll be the one rocking the winning team uniform.”

Slowly, Lena begins to feel the corner of her mouth twitch. Completely unbidden, completely unpredictable. “Dream on, Danvers.” She allows the space between them to grow, but their eyes remain locked, and the air feels heavy—thick—and the weight of their shared gaze holds a meaning Lena can’t possibly unpack right now.

But Kara’s tongue pokes out between her teeth cheerfully, and she doesn’t appear half as bothered by this development. “Always, if you’re in them,” she says, twists a little on her heel to walk away, but she pauses while she is still in earshot. “You know—next time you can just thank me for defending you.”

“You mean abusing your power as a prefect,” Lena replies automatically even as her head is running a mile a minute; even as Kara is getting farther and farther away and the scratch on her glasses lens catches the light.

“That too!” Kara shouts as she gets lost in the crowd, and damn her, Lena has to put her hand over her mouth to hide the absolute idiotic smile that has formed on her own face.

(Joint blame indeed, Lena muses, and she figures that she might as well form a rivalry with the Slytherins instead of the Gryffindors after all).

#this is both a threat and a reminder that im still working on these #😌😌😌#supercorp #supergirl #bisexualgoof #i need a fic tag #disclaimer that i still do not know anything about hp #im doing more research on harry potter than i do writing smh

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jalebi-weds-bluetooth · 3 years ago

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Hello hello! Leela here! Since everyone is asking so much about arshi’s consummation lately. I want to ask about the almost suhagraat (the i love u damn it one) where at least I felt arnav was a little out of character. Because making fun of Khushi’s discomfort, scaring her about consummation is not like Arnav! I want to ask your opinion on why did Arnav only thought about suhagraat to show khushi their marriage is complete. I mean Khushi mentioned loads marriage rituals but he just got stuck on that one part. I mean why did he think that if they have sex, Khushi will think of them as a real couple? Also, wasn’t he rushing too much? She talks about them not being a real couple today and the next day he presents her with lehenga, decorated bed, flowers, and candles! All ready for them to have their suhagraat! Why was he rushing? Why suddenly consummation became so important to him? Sorry if it’s too much! And thank you!

Hello Leela!

Oh yes, the questions about sex off late...

At first I was nearly tempted to not answer but then I went 'hey, there's unnecessary hush hush about sex - let's not add to that'. So I decided to answer each and everyone of them.

Oohhh... the suhaagraat attempt #2. I'll have a lot to say about this but let's start first with the concept of consent and delve straightforward into what was wrong with those episodes.

credit: Tinder : https://www.letstalkconsent.com

All and more above are clear signs of consent being violated. Khushi displayed all of that. All of us felt uncomfortable because it was. Khushi did not consent to anything Arnav was doing.

Consent is easy. No matter how shy one can be, an enthusiastic partner will actively, verbally say 'YES'.

If your partner or you aren't saying your 'YES' or are fearing that saying 'NO' will make the other one angry or upset - then whatever is about to happen will be NON CONSENSUAL.

There needs to be verbal/non verbal active consent.

And this is exactly why the Suhaagraat Attempt #2 pissed me off.

I have answers to your questions, and the foundation of those lie in the concept of consent.

Consent looks like:

- Saying "yes", "don't stop", "go on"

- Nodding, pulling someone closer, active engagement, mutual touching

And as the website above says: nonverbal cues tend to be less clear when you're with a new partner so it's best to use verbal consent. Consent should always be clear, enthusiastic and ongoing throught sexual activity. And consent isn't limited to sexual activity.

First off, we need to get suhaagraat off the list of 'rituals' married people need to do. It's a toxic ideology that gives too much weight to the concept of 'I'm your legally wedded spouse and I'm entitled to sex'

Why was Arnav hung up on consummation?

For Arnav, he and Khushi were married in every way possible. And they were. He's an atheist, she's a Hindu. If they're married under the Special Marriage Act - which I think they are - then they are legally married. And even a Hindu marriage in India is not complete without a legal registration.

I think he decided to humor her when after everything, Khushi realises they're not married because of her little rituals. Which I think was insensitive of him in any way - regardless of the whole problematic suhaagraat thing.

Also, just to be a bit kinder to Arnav, Khushi had the most stupid way of arriving to this conclusion. It would've helped if she literally sat next to him and told him what the problem was.

That she didn't know her position in his life.

He goes from telling her he loves her to calling her the biggest mistake of his life in a flip - one can't call that marriage.

However, Khushi's irrationality aside, I think Arnav saw this as an opportunity to initiate the side of their married life which they obviously did not explore. He has a lot of fun seeing her flustered.

Which would've been fine if she was shy.

As she is during their Haldi. Rather she's uncomfortable and frightened. And that was not funny.

We can give Arnav the benefit of doubt that he really thought Khushi was into it and being shy because they would actually do the deed in their bed.

However, there are no excuses when Khushi is constantly hesitant. And it does NOT help that Arnav gets angry on her. His 'I love you' comes out of sexual frustration, not a genuine declaration.

It's even more problematic that Khushi smiles and she's happy after his I Love You because in reality even a love confession doesn't give anyone the right to have sex.

It was not ok for Arnav to decorate their bed and withhold a garment from her, which for Khushi means modesty, only because he is ready for it.

This scene could have been a thousand times better if Arnav realised that Khushi is truly uncomfortable and would have sat and talked to her about it.

Also, as much as I love that his confession was a passionate expression - I do not see how his anger in this circumstance was right. Arnav was quick to accept her rejection if the rejection was ok to his understanding, otherwise dragging her to get married again was... off.

So while I can give Arnav a benefit of doubt that he didn't realise how Khushi was genuinely uncomfortable about this situation, enjoyed teasing her... I do not get how two people would decide to have sex the first time without actually talking about it.

And I mean that for this circumstance.

People have one night stands with clear consent and less conversation, but that's fine because clear consent wins!

And the worst part about this is that the show is playing a romantic song while Arnav is actively violating her consent.

I find Khushi extremely stupid in these episodes because that is the worst way to bring out important things to talk about and I'll say that in another ask one day.

But yes, I don't have much more to add beyond this. It's an episode I find hard to watch (yeah, that's with Masala Mama and Bubbly existing). We all have the same questions - why would they write, direct and film it that way?

Those few episodes had the weirdest tracks to push the plot forward. I'd just keep it to Dadi magically knowing this is a contractual marriage from Shyam, hence calling it bull.

Best,

- JWB

P.S: Also, Arnav and Khushi's forced marriage is also a BIG violation of her consent. He doesn't give her an option of saying no and blackmails her into it - and she doesn't even know why. Just saying.

P.P.S: Their actual consummation is perhaps one of the most beautifully written scenes in the show. It is the opposite of everything mentioned above.

#ask #leela #ipkknd #about arnav and khushi #ipkknd analysis #consent #CONSENT IN SEX #IS EVERYTHING #PEOPLE #CONSENT IS SEXY

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helnjk · 4 years ago

Text

Lost In The Night - D.M.

Draco Malfoy x fem!gryffindor!reader

Requested: yes

Ello! Hope your not too busy. If you could, could you write a prompt #42 and a prompt#46 together as in, in one story.. If you could that would be lovely and if you can't no worries! ♥️;

Hey if your requests are open could you do a prompt #42 & promot#46 for draco. Much appreciated!

“what the hell were you thinking?” “who hurt you?”

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Umbridge & her quill, blood, slight angst but with a happy ending!

Summary: Somehow, Umbridge finds a way to ruin everything. Luckily, Draco is there to pick up the pieces and hold you tight.

Prompts are in bold

---

Being in Gryffindor was great. Being a Gryffindor dating a Slytherin, not as great. Being a Gryffindor secretly dating a Slytherin who just so happened to be Draco Malfoy, a little complicated.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with Draco, but he chipped away at your armor little by little until he held your heart firmly in his hands.

You could tell that something was different about him around third year, he was less of an entitled prick and actually managed not to bother your housemates much that year. It seemed like he finally managed to get it in his head that he wasn’t any better than the rest of you, despite his pure bloodline.

It was fourth year that you had started actually paying some more attention to him. Your eyes automatically finding him whenever you were in the same room together. He noticed too, sending you discreet smirks that caused a flutter in your stomach. One day in Potions he decided to sit by you instead of his usual seat and you merely raised an eyebrow at him. That was when the note passing began.

Hogsmeade this weekend? He wrote down on a scrap piece of parchment beside his ingredients, pretending to take down notes on what was brewing in his cauldron.

You asking me out on a date, Malfoy? You wrote back, managing to slip it back to him while Snape had his back turned.

Possibly. Was his only reply.

It’s gonna take much more than that for me to say yes.

Neither of you could continue passing this note between yourselves as your attentions turned back to the complicated potions were brewing and Snape had begun making his rounds around the room.

It wasn’t unusual after that for you to find scraps of parchment shoved into your books or between your notes, all containing Draco’s distinct handwriting. The contents of the notes were never the same, sometimes he would tell you about his day, other times he would write down clever little jokes or interesting food combinations for you to try out. Soon, you had found yourself eagerly waiting for these little messages and tidbits of information about the blonde haired boy.

The Astronomy tower is my favorite place in the whole castle. It’s nice to just sit there and be with my thoughts.

The Giant Squid is a girl. Don’t ask how I know.

Next time you’re down in the kitchens, ask the house elves for some vanilla ice cream and a plate of fresh chips.

It wasn’t long before you finally agreed to go on that date to Hogsmeade.

After that, your feelings for Draco bloomed quite quickly. Discrete study sessions in the library lasted long into the night, little gifts would appear in your bag or on your bed when you would have a rough day, subtle touches were shared whenever you had class together. You two were never seen publicly displaying any kind of affection though, which made it seem like you guys weren’t exactly dating.

You were fine with that kind of set up, preferring to keep your love life private and away from prying eyes. It also helped filter out the gossip about you and the questions you knew your friends would ask if they knew. They thought your friendship with Draco was a little off-putting, but chose not to say anything because they saw how he was different from your first few years in Hogwarts.

Fifth year was a little more tricky to deal with since Umbridge was around and stomping around like she owned the place.

Tensions were high as she constantly berated and belittled Harry, calling him a liar and embarrassing him in front of everyone in class. You were friends with him, Ron, and Hermione and of course you knew the truth. It made your blood boil that she thought she could treat him, or any other student for that matter, like that.

Draco, on the other hand, chose to keep quiet and keep out of Umbridge’s way. He didn’t want to get on her bad side, understandably, since his father was so closely involved in the Ministry.

“The more you keep your head down, the better love,” He would say as you complained to him about how awful she could be to Harry during your study sessions at the library, “I know for a fact that she wouldn’t hesitate to make you use that damn quill too if you gave her any reason. I don’t want you going through that.”

For the most part, you listened to his advice.

One day, however, you were just so over everything Umbridge had to say. She had gotten a dig in at Harry and his “lies” one too many times during class and you had just lost it.

“Oh shut up,” You snapped out loud.

Hermione’s head snapped to yours as quickly as you had said it, eyes wide in panic. Even Harry, who was trying his hardest not to retaliate because of his already sore and cut hand, gave you a look that said don’t bother.

“Excuse me?” The toad dressed in pink sent you a sarcastic smile, “What did you just say?”

You felt Hermione grip your arm as if to say please don’t. You shook her off.

“I said, shut up.” You spoke clearly, “You have no right to be ridiculing, and frankly humiliating, someone who is just a student and a minor, especially when you’re in a position of authority.”

The whole room was silent. Usually those who got on Umbridge’s bad side were those who chose not to follow her stupid educational degrees, or who spoke of Voldemort’s return. No one had ever called her out so publicly and straight to her face.

“Detention for the rest of the week, Miss Y/L/N. For speaking out of turn,” Was all Umbridge said.

You rolled your eyes but stayed silent, heart hammering in your chest when the realization of what exactly detention with her meant. A puff of breath escaped your lips and your mind wandered for the rest of the period, none of your friends bothering to ask if you were okay, clearly seeing that you weren’t in the right headspace.

The first few days of detention, you didn’t tell Draco where you were going, just saying that you were busy those nights and couldn’t really spend as much time with him as you liked. He was skeptical, but understood nonetheless. Every night before you two split ways, you going to Umbridge’s office and him heading for the dungeons, he would gently kiss you on the lips and whisper a soft I love you.

Those little reassurances were what helped you power through every sting of the words “I will not speak out of turn” on the back of your hand. As each detention wore on, though, you could feel your strength wavering.

On Friday night, the last night of your detention, you walked into Umbridge’s office and every breath you took shook from nerves. Your hand hadn’t healed from the previous night and it was more than painful. It pulsed as you waited for her to give you the go signal to start writing, and four hours later, it was red and raw. Blood dripped down from the edges of the words that no doubt left a scar and you couldn’t help the tears as they escaped the corners of your eyes.

The moment you stepped through the threshold of her office and into the silent corridor, a sob escaped your lips. You couldn’t bear to go back to Gryffindor tower yet but it was way past curfew and you couldn’t be seen wandering around the corridors. That meant that you found yourself in an empty alcove, trying to contain your tears and murmur quick healing spells on your hand.

You felt like such a baby, letting that foul woman get the better of you, but there was no mistaking the damage she did on you, both physically and mentally.

“Y/N?” You heard someone whisper. You nearly jumped out of your skin, quickly wiping your eyes with your good hand and strategically hiding the other as you saw Draco at the end of the hallway.

“Draco,” You breathed, “What’re you doing out so late?”

“Prefect duties, it’s my turn to patrol tonight,” He said simply, “I could ask you the same thing, are you alright?”

A beat passed as you debated on what your answer should be.

“No, not really.” You replied weakly, knowing that he would see right past any form of lie or distraction you could create, eyes glancing at your bloodied hand.

He was quick to take notice too, “Who hurt you?” He said before rushed forward, gently cradling your injured hand in his.

“You can take a guess,” You muttered as his eyes scanned over the words etched onto the back of your hand.

“Oh darling,” He murmured, making his way into the alcove and gathering you up into his arms, “How did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You sighed into his chest, “You should’ve heard her! She was going on and on about how malicious and not right in the head she thought Harry was. I couldn’t just sit there and let her talk about him like that. You know that he’s telling the truth, he shouldn’t be singled out and punished for that! I called her out on it and she gave me detention the whole week.”

“What the hell were you thinking?” He asked more harshly than he intended and you felt like a toddler being scolded, “I told you that keeping your head down wouldn’t land you in situations like this.”

You knew he meant well and that he was just thinking of your happiness and safety, but with the rush of emotions running through you tonight, you didn’t want to be treated like a child. All you wanted was to be comforted and you had foolishly thought that Draco could give that to you.

“Oh sod off, Draco,” You huffed, pulling away from him and wincing as you lent on your injured hand, “I didn’t ask for a lecture, I’ve had my fill of that for today I would think.”

Tears had started to form in your eyes again as your frustration grew at your boyfriend. It had been a long night and this was not how you had seen it going when you spotted him down the hallway. You were about to move and make your way back to Gryffindor tower when you felt his hand softly grip your wrist.

“Hey, I’m sorry I snapped.” He said, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you back to his chest, “I just don’t like knowing that you got hurt when it could’ve been avoided.”

“I know,” You mumbled, still slightly put off at the boy whose arms enveloped you and whose scent was already calming you down.

Before you knew it, he was standing and sending you one of his trademark soft smiles that never failed to melt your heart.

“C’mon, you’re staying with me tonight.” He said, taking your uninjured hand in his and tugging slightly to get you to start moving.

“What if Umbridge catches us?” You asked, fear creeping in at the thought of more detentions being doled out to you. The thought of Draco having to go through it too made your stomach churn.

“She won’t.” He said confidently, “And if she does, I’m a prefect and she’s favors Slytherin anyway, I can tell her that I’m escorting you back to your dorm.”

The two of you walked silently hand-in-hand all the way to the slab of wall that indicated the Slytherin dorms. Draco gave you a large jumper to put on once you got to his dorm, as he went about getting ready for bed. The familiar scent of his cologne was enough to help you relax as you sank into the soft mattress and closed your eyes. Soon you felt the bed dip and Draco once again wrapped his arms around your waist.

A contented sigh escaped your lips as he peppered soft kisses along your neck and shoulder.

“I love you,” He mumbled against your shoulder, “You know that right?”

Turning to face him, you sent him a soft smile, “Yeah. I love you too.”

For a while, Draco was content leaning down and pecking your lips every so often. No words were spoken and none were needed as both of you basked in the presence of the other. After a while, your stomach grumbled as you hadn’t had much to eat before your detention with Umbridge. The nerves were too much for you to stomach anything substantial.

Draco shifted away slightly and asked, “Do you want me to go grab you something from the kitchens? I’m sure the house elves would be happy to whip something up for you.”

You only shuffled closer to him, letting his warmth wash over you, “I’m alright, I’d rather be with you anyway.”

He gave out a soft hum and pressed a kiss to your forehead, letting you know that he heard you. It wasn’t long until you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fics #draco malfoy x reader

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allaboardtheussharringrove · 4 years ago

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So @billy-baby mentioned That 70’s Show and Harringrove, and it reminded me of a *whole ass* set of hc’s about a 70’s/Stranger Things AU that has been sitting in my notes for literal years collecting dust, so here it is:

-Billy & Hyde would be besties, probably neighbours in the same shitty neighbourhood

-They headbang to hard rock and metal, jam to 60’s & 70’s rock while drinking TONS of beer and hotboxing the Camaro and El Camino, respectively

-Bands they’d have in common: AC/DC, Black Sabbath & Ozzy Osbourne, Scorpions, KISS, Judas Priest, Van Halen, and Led Zeppelin just to name a couple

-Hyde always gives Billy shit for like, never wearing a shirt, Billy gives Hyde shit for his ever-present sunglasses & sideburns

-They know each other’s parental problems, and take refuge in the Forman’s basement/the empty Harrington house (yes, we’re talkin’ a Hawkins, Indiana/Point Place, Wisconsin mashup here)

-Billy still has a major crush on Steve (Harrington that is, Steven Hyde will only be referred to as Hyde [and that possible name mix-up could cause some hilarity whenever anyone calls out “Steven”, and some embarrassing rumour drama for Billy, Steve, & Hyde (or omg a block party at the Formans where Kitty calls out “William! Steven! Michael!” And she turns around and has Billy, Will, Hyde, Steve, Mike, and Kelso starting at her expectantly)])

-Billy probably also thinks Eric and Kelso are kinda cute, but total dumbasses, they both definitely annoy him

-Fez would have a totally awkward and hilarious crush on Billy, and you just know Billy would flirt with him on purpose just to make him nervous (this might make Steve a lil jealous and annoy him to no end)

-Jackie would have the BIGGEST crush on Steve, after Kelso, and drag him around to go shopping and shit, he would tolerate it but Billy would absolutely hate her as a “bitchy rich entitled snot-nosed brat” cause she would be vocal about him being poor and he’d have to be calmed down by Hyde and Steve all the time

-Billy would give Hyde an unimaginable amount of shit for going out with Jackie, hooo boy!

-Steve would get a kick outta Kelso, but I think he and Eric would be pretty close friends, with Steve always pushing to hang around at the Forman’s cause Eric’s parents are always present, as opposed to his empty house (he adores Kitty Forman for SURE as the mother he never had)

-But the gang would surely hold parties at the Harrington’s....and only sometimes get away with it (both these groups are known for their KEGS! and the 70’s teens would lose their damn minds over Keg Kings Billy & Steve)

-Billy would put the charm on for Kitty sometimes just to see her blush, and Red would get annoyed and just a little threatening saying something like “Like to see how charming you are with my foot up your ass” and Billy being the abused kid that he is automatically takes it a little too seriously- probably flinches, goes a little pale, stutters out a “Yes sir, sorry sir”

-This would make Kitty and Red a bit concerned, pay a visit to the Hargrove household- I wouldn’t be surprised if they experience Neil putting Billy down or catch a glimpse of a smack or something and they would for sure take action with Red intimidating Neil cause you know he could

-Anyway! Girls. Robin and Donna would be THE BEST FRIENDS EVER, cause Donna had no other cool girl friend to hang out with and you just KNOW Robin might have an “itsy bitsy” (huge) crush on Donna, cause she’s Hot Donna, also they’re both super into female empowerment (and honestly, when Donna/Eric break up I could see her maybe falling for Robin too)

-Donna and Billy would be buds, she might like him for a hot minute but be cool with him being gay (Out of everyone in the 70’s gang, I think he’d most likely share this with her - cause she’d probably figure it out - even if it’s just to gush about their dumb, brave, pretty brunette boys to each other)

-Max would LOVE Donna, not just because of the hair (but also redhead solidarity is important), but because they’re both badasses and would totally vibe together- Max, Billy, and Donna would be an unexpectedly fun trio (and Billy would complain about having to drive the “GingeTwins” around all the time or something to that effect)

-And Jackie having to babysit Erica (because Donna does it sometimes, but she’s out for the night) would be the best thing ever good lord, Erica would put Jackie in her place, but they’d probably make up some schemes together too

-Also Erica would be absolutely appalled at having a similar name to Eric, she’d probably call him something along the lines of “Supreme Nerd” or “King of the Nerds” and have an endless supply of unimpressed looks for him during their debates of whose name is better

-Eric would totally join Mike, Will, Lucas & Dustin in their nerd exploits (STAR WARS!) And he and Dustin would get into loooong nerd debates

-I think Kelso would join Dustin & Lucas (and maybe the other boys too) in doing mischievous experiments including but not limited to: pyrotechnics, wrist rockets, radios and electronics... He’d begrudgingly listen to the scientific explanations of the boys (which would all fly right over his head) and they would have a moderate success rate, but also have to run away from the trouble they’d get in

-Lucas and Hyde would always be cool, but after finding out about Hyde’s biological dad they could become closer (Hyde’s dad and Lucas would have the best banter)

-Will and Eric would geek out over comics, and I think Eric would be super nice/supportive about seeing Will’s drawings

-Jonathan would be pretty quiet at first, but might talk to Fez since they’re both kinda the odd man out in each group (and he’d be genuinely NICE to Fez, *side eyes 70’s teens*)- then he’d be roped into doing random/stupid/mildly illegal stuff with the gang

-And despite Billy & Hyde being besties, I think Jonathan would bond with Hyde over shitty dads (plus I think Hyde would love Joyce, and she’d be another offer of refuge for him & Billy) and WEED WEED WEED

-Actually that might definitely be a sub-trio: Jonathan, Billy, & Hyde- they’d all have each other’s backs when it came to family drama (and later on when Hyde gets his record store, he’d offer them both jobs and Jonathan would be over the fuckin’ moon and work there)

-Billy would for sure work for Red in his muffler shop, and Red would take him under his wing, probably unwittingly become the father figure Billy never had.

-Nancy, hmmm, well she’s on the richer side of town so her and Jackie might be friends? but she’d for sure get annoyed with Jackie’s shallow bullshit

-OH and Robin would also hate Jackie I think, ‘cause of her entitlement and relentless obsession with boys (poor Jackie, I’m not setting her up for anything great here huh)

-So that’d be why Steve is friends with her, if only ‘cause he feels bad when she alienates herself from the rest of the teens, they (and I hate to say this) *could possibly* date for like 5 minutes, it’d be a REALLY hard time for Billy...and Kelso. And those two would probably come up with some hairbrained scheme to break them up (and succeed, but each get ripped a new one because of it)

-But at least the group of teen girls would be bigger if Donna, Robin, Jackie, and Nancy all hung out together sometimes (and if they tried to have a sleepover or something there would be toooo many idiot boys trying to creep on them, I think Billy would be the voice of reason and tell them they’re all being dickheads)

-And he’d give Fez a fuck ton of shit for being such a voyeuristic creep, probably make him stop hiding in people closets (wait what? Fez is like constantly coming out of closets in that show?! hello?? is that a thing??? Oh ho-ho they’d have a whole talk about that)

-Steve would get a kick outta Fez, probably think he was the funniest dude on the planet, as I’d say they’re the goofballs of the group (and yes, I am mostly excluding the King Steve narrative from this and using only cool mom Steve, cool? cool.)

-Steve might also have a lil crush on Donna, (‘cause a strong personality and blue eyes is like his kink, we all know this) but Eric would throw a fit about that and then they’d be all buddy-buddy discussing Donna & Billy (I think Eric being kind of a dumbass about his own gay kiss might put Steve off for a bit [and make Billy super hesitant and real pissed], but I also think Eric would be cool with hearing Steve out about his big bisexuality-discovery-adventure)

-Donna and Eric trying set Steve and Billy up by saying they’re all gonna hang out, and then like locking Billy/Steve in a room together or something and leaving😈

-When Billy/Steve’s relationship comes out, Hyde’s reaction is probably “That’s cool, man” Kelso would make some corny statement about how hot *he* is, Fez would probably fangirl over it with big ole heart eyes, Jackie would be like “weird, whatever”, Kitty would get flustered and then overly excited about it after a while, Red would be uncomfortable but okay with it saying something like “I better not catch you two dumbasses doing anything in my house”

-Ohmygod, Red as a father figure to Billy, Kitty as a mother figure to Steve, and they end up being so supportive of the boys ‘cause they have to put up with so much parental shit (say what you want, but the Formans have compassion) and they convert their house/backyard into a little private prom for the whole gang just so Billy/Steve can dance together and be themselves

-Billy, Steve, and Robin would die laughing every time they saw/talked to Leo. And I feel like Robin would talk her way into a job at the Photo Hut and then just end up being the manager and hires Jonathan herself to do the developments

-And you know how Hyde is always punching Kelso in the arm? Well he’d always get one, and Billy would punch the other arm as he’d classify Kelso a special kind of idiot, they’d always be teasing Kelso together, but Billy (and Steve I’m sure) would have some wicked BURNS that Kelso would love

-Steve and Kelso as friends? Sure, pretty boys gotta stick together~ especially when Steve gets called that by Billy, and then Kelso insists he’s a prettier boy, and Billy either rolls his eyes or flirts aggressively cause Kelso doesn’t understand WHY that’s Steve’s nickname, and it’s a whole can of worms you guys

-(And I didn’t forget about El, I’m just not quite sure where she fits in this AU... she probably doesn’t have powers and is the new kid who moves into town cause of a bad home life, she’d befriend Max in school and then I think Donna would take her under wing, then she’d be a hit with the teen gang cause she’d break her quietness with witty comments/one-liners, and since she’s very intuitive still, she gravitates towards Billy & Hyde and there would be some touching heart-to-hearts about shitty parental situations followed immediately after by inappropriate offers of beer to which she responds with a firm “gross”)

-And finally, *the Circle* would be so much bigger and funnier with the Stranger Teens in it

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missdawnandherdusk · 5 years ago

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Slytherin Extensive Dating a Malfoy Headcanons:

Here’s to all of my lovely Slytherin followers!

You’re sorted into Slytherin and you don’t quite understand why, but there had to be a reason. Draco didn’t quite understand either but not like he cares. pffft. nope.

You’re a odd Slytherin. No one can deny your ambition or hesitancy to do things just right, but there are some times that you surprise everyone

Draco thinks you don’t belong in Slytherin but damn you’re good at Quidditch

You play as a Keeper. He thinks that it’s stupid but you give him a flash of your smile and maybe he’s forgotten what he’s supposed to be doing on the field too

He swears your part veela because people just stop and do things for you all the time

“Oh, I’ve forgotten my quill, does anyone have an extra?” There are about ten at your disposal from others that you always return with that same distracting smile not that he noticed

You always get out of trouble, no matter what it is. With Filch or Snape or McGonagall. You just had a way with words and it frustrated him

And oh the way you snark at Potter. It’s not cruel like his normal taunts but you always have a way to sneak that smile in and a wicked quip leaving both he and Harry gaping after you

When Buckbeak goes to attack him, you’re right there, smiling and speaking softly to the beast and it backs down, charmed like everyone else “It’s alright, there’s no need to feel threatened, just calm,” Buckbeak then lets you and Draco approach and you give him that smile and the boy is a goner

“Malfoy?” You call his attention. “Huh what?” He blinks. “Are you alright?” You laugh and maybe he wasn’t paying attention the first time you asked him

You always looked so put together and confident whenever he was around, whenever he noticed you, you were always smiling and flawless and it wasn’t fair in his opinion because it just looked so effortless

First years from any house are hanging onto your every word because you’re always there to show them the way or give them advice on how to get on a professor’s good side which has him sulking because you never talk to him like that

Oh but wait until someone crosses you. He thought you had the patience of a saint but bloody hell

One of your friends lies to you constantly? Someone betrays you? Oh you have receipts and evidence lined up against them. People from other houses and different years are at your defense because they know it just like you do. You’re ex-friend is a backbiter and damn Merlin if they think you’ll let them get away with it and honestly Draco can’t decide if he’s scared or turned on when he sees the fires of hell in your eyes

But then you catch sight of him and your smile is back and you wave and he’s gawking because yeah he’s definitely both scared and turned on

Even though everyone whispers around the school about what went down, you still hold your head high and still look flawless

But one night he finds you in the Slytherin common room, sitting in the window seat, watching the murky water of the lake, crying silently Draco starts panicking because what is he supposed to do you’re always put together what do you mean you’re crying alone

“Uh... are you okay?” He has no idea why he’s asking, but he can’t just leave you here... can he?

You immediately wipe away your tears and smile, but Draco can see right through this one. He leans against the wall beside the window, waiting for you to explain

“Am... am I really vindictive, manipulative, and controlling?” You seem so insecure as you hug your knees. “I... I know Slytherins are cunning and ambitious... but I don’t want to be a bad person...”

He’s staring again because you always seem to keep him on his toes for trying to figure you out. And he’s never seen you as anything less than perfect and he’s not stopping now. You’re just more real

“You’re not a bad person,” He finally says, sitting on the window seat with you. Teary-eyed you look at him, and now he’s furious towards whoever thought they could make you think you’re a bad person

You laugh hopelessly and again, wipe away your tears. “Thanks Draco,” It’s the first time you’ve ever used his first name

He just nods and leaves you to your thoughts again. Now he’s asking around to what could possibly have you so upset and doubting of yourself even though you’re still put together in the halls, your head held high and maybe he hopes that someone might understand him back he’s not as put together as he seems either

You often come to him now when you’re really stressed out and you don’t want anyone else to know, but you know Draco won’t tell anyone nor judge you

Sometimes he just knows where to find you when you’re thinking alone and he has some sort of sweet, or tea, or something. You two just sit together, not saying anything, but not acting like you have it all together either

You notice in Fourth Year that Draco starts to slip through the cracks of falling into being like his father and you know he’s scared to be like his father but you also know what it’s like to not know what else to do

Draco notices that you’re getting a lot of attention from Viktor Krum and his school buddies. They all seem to have fallen for the same smile that he did but they couldn’t have you, they would never understand you like he did. How dare they even think it

“Do you want to go to the first task with me?” You ask him and he snaps his quill because Merlin how do you move so quietly “Me? Why don’t you go with one of your Durmstrang blokes?” He snaps.

You gape at him. Sure, you knew you were getting attention from those guys, but was it really enough to make Draco jealous? “I don’t want to go with them, they’re entitled uncivilized imbeciles.” You scoff. “I want to go with you. Idiot!” Then you storm off.

Draco realizes oh my stars I fucked up shitshitshitshitshitshit uh um bloody hell what to i do

So he chases after you and grabs your hand in the middle of that hall between classes so there are students everywhere

“I’m sorry,” He rushes out and you tilt your head, waiting. “If... if you still want to go with me...”

“Malfoy bothering you?” One of the Durmstrang asks, coming up beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder and Draco’s blood just boils

But before Draco can get his wand out, you have the guy on the floor groaning in pain taking him down muggle style and Draco has gone back to being scared and turned on You smile at him and take his hand, on your way to the pitch to watch the task

He guesses that you’re dating now? No one ever offiaclly said anything and not much has changed except you always find him in the halls and hold his hand and maybe his most recent batch of Amortentia smells just like your perfume and favorite sweet... And maybe yours smells just like his cologne and favorite tea...

He eventually gets the words out: “Do you want to go out with me?” He’s stuttering and blushing because you two are alone and he doesn’t have to be Mr. PerfectTM and you’re smiling at him again and you’re making it so difficult for him and you know it

“Well duh,” You finally laugh. “You’re so dense sometimes Dray,”

Everyone thinking that you are the EliteTM couple on campus because of how well you both charade perfection...

When you’re really just total goofballs. You like doodling stupid things on his notes and he always has a cheesy pickup lines at the ready. You two flirt but it’s more like banter because you’re already his and Merlin does everyone ship it

Tickle fights / “For you my lady,” “Well thank you kind sir,” / Inside jokes / Maybe a prank or two that eventually escalates and ends when Draco has vibrant blue hair and you get the last laugh but merlin does he look good

His parents and your parents believe that they have the perfect couple between you two. Such decorum and tradition, and refinement. (And you and Draco are flying upside down on your brooms, running barefoot through the Manors, making a mess in the kitchen trying to bake without magic, blasting music in the halls and singing off key and dancing) Narcissa knows all of this and adores that you bring such joy to Draco’s life

Umbridge has met her match with you. She is completely enchanted with you, even though you’re running an underground network against her at the school and she doesn’t have the slightest idea Draco is so impressed and Merlin does he love how cunning you are

When No Nose comes back and fear is a constant lingering in the school and amongst Slytherins, you slowly drop your prefect facade and let others know it’s okay to not be okay. “Little Miss Perfect isn’t so perfect is she?” “No, but I am real,”

You get fascinated with Dark Magic, because well, everyone keeps talking about it and you think that it’s stupid to be afraid of something you don’t know about so you learn and it doesn’t seem so scary when you realize there are counter curses and jinxes that spread like wildfire in the school in an underground network you and Hermione set up

Draco takes the Dark Mark, and so do you. You won’t leave him on his own. You want loyal and cunning and ambitious? Bring it No Nose who honestly believes that you’re on his side and for his cause because who can lie to him? You can.

You stay at the Manor with Draco during the holidays. It’s almost vital that both you and Draco pull your masks of perfection back on for the sake of surviving. Which leave you both doing things that has you breaking down in each other arms in the quiet of the night because how did it come to this?

Using the same underground network, you feed encrypted information to the Golden Trio and Hogwarts. You always go down and talk with Luna and keep her company behind a silencing charm or two

You punch Pansy in the face when she suggests handing over Harry.

You and Draco both stand with Hogwarts during the battle. You actually laugh when confusion breaks out across the Death Eaters and No Nose and you have the urge to scream “I’m a Slytherin! Who did you think you were dealing with!?” And maybe you do

After the war it’s hard facing anyone because for so long they thought that you and Draco had gone dark side, but slowly tensions ease and things get better and there’s a light at the end of the table.

You and Draco redeem the Slytherin House and later after you’re married to each other, McGonagall comes and asks you to teach and to be the Head of House for Slytherin

Tags: @coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87@artemismohr18@whygz @crazywritingbug @fuzzy-panda@bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog @jillanaholland@shookyungsoo @savingdraco@welcometomyworldwithoutrules@akari180 @slytherin-emerald@chaotic-good-gemini @memalfoy-spidey@theres-a-dog-outside-omg @queenfeatherwings@fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe@spicyshenanigans@darling-im-not-okay-i-promise@dietkiwi@katsukink@takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things@tmnt-queen@mccloudchloe @hxneybgb@justsomerandomgur @belcvayelena@moviesbooksandfandoms@howdycharlie@xtrashmouthxtozierx @cocochanelthepupper@ninacotte@mccloudchloe @braelynn-j@jiggllyy @honeymarvel@go-whovian-universe@darcypottah@atomicpunkrock @thiccheerioss @lottie289@boredashaeck @beautiful-pegasus @tceedlmao @deadlynyghtshayde @iconjuresnapeingrandmaclothes @anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @lunna-does-real-doodle @dragonsandbread @atomicwonderlandmentality @okaydraco@the–queen-of-hell@langdonzvoid @cmxreader @alienmotel @oh-itsnothing@tulippings @thestressedprincess @sunflowerxsadnessw@caps-wilsonn @fattycooter @angelotakunerd08@thisisahugemistake @fanficsigottaread @gweaslvy @okaydraco @strawberriesonsummer @ughjjloveme @honeymarvel @gaysludge @cleopatera @ray-of-sunrise @artist-bby

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peeterparkr · 4 years ago

Text

perfidy;tom holland|16

chapter 16: the closeup

enemies to lovers au/enemies with benefits

chapter summary: tom and y/n get close

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: fluffy, smut (skip the *), angst, New York

word count: 8.2k

here’s a playlist

and here’s another one

and here’s another one inspired by 1D

social media before you read (IMPORTANT FOR THE CHAPTER) :

tweets, instagram and texts: y/n and Tom are absent in social media

previous chapter next chapter series masterlist wanna be tagged?

Hi!

It hurts to think that two people love each other and yet they never knew. That was the thought invading your head. They say unrequited love hurts, and it does, you had lived your whole life believing your love was one sided, and boy, had it hurt. You couldn’t deny every sleepless night, every heartbeat skipping, and you’d never deny every tear you had shedded. But realizing it had always been reciprocated and never knowing about it, because life liked to be a bitch… well, that’s just stupid. It sounded so cliche, though. The guy had always been in love with her.

You first love ever, which, by the way he knew, loved you back. But did he? You had trouble deciding it. But somehow, you believed it. Not sure if you believed it because of the situation or because you wanted to believe it. Still.

It hurt. Because had all those tears been for nothing? Or maybe they meant more now. It was so… not what you had expected.

Maybe it had been what you had always wanted but never expected. A secret wish.

But now that you had it, you didn’t want it.

Did it make sense? No. Not at all.

Except it did, in a way, or that’s what you were trying to figure out as you felt an unequivocal heartbreak. But why did this hurt?

Because even if he loved you, even if he had loved you, there had been a stronger force pulling him away from you.

A force that you knew looked very much like Tom and went by the name of Harry.

You didn’t want to blame it on Harry. And maybe that’s why you’d shut Tom off when he’d tried to explain, because you had felt it coming, the unexplainable fear of him saying: I was just protecting my brother.

And you had been protecting Harry, too.

Because it hurt, too. But you didn’t want to think about that. Not now. You didn’t want to think of the very complicated feelings you had once had towards Harry, which were very much alike to the feelings you’d once had towards Timothee. Knowing that it would’ve the best. But the heart wants what it wants. And your heart wanted that entitled moron that had been an arrogant idiot throughout his whole life but now, apparently had always had feelings for you.

You really had to think about Tom right now.

Your mind was helping with that, it had decided to hurt you in ways that you hadn’t been hurt before, your mind was roaming back to moments that proved he hadn’t loved you. Why were you trying to convince yourself of that? Why did your mind have to go back to your childhood when he’d push you off the swings, or to other moments, like him pushing you in the hallway, or him making fun of your braids, or your shoes or whatever he came up with that day.

Which had you already questioning yourself, why did you fall in love with such a dickhead? This was to blame on you. But oh, who wouldn't fall in love with him? The whole world was at his feet, it made sense you were in love with him.

Well, it made sense now, but back then? The scrawny annoying kid who never shut up. God, with that smile and the way he looked at you.

Why were you trying to shut down your feelings now that you knew that he possibly loved you back? He had said it, right? He’d always been in love with you.

Why were you trying to deny it?

Or maybe you were trying to deny your own feelings.

You had both fallen quiet after you had stopped dancing, your hands hesitated when he had offered you his hand, he then offered his arm instead. You took it, and you didn’t want to let go. Not now. Not never.

And then your mind was reminding you of how all of this hard started. Revenge.

But was it, really? Revenge? It seemed now like a faint memory, now the script was barely following your path, and you knew it had turned into something beautiful. You’d like the back and forth you were doing, it did have some potential. Starting with a significant event, based on your pain, on the damned yellow flowers. Which of course, you’d changed to a bouquet of lavenders. And then going backwards to what lead to it, building it down to the so childhood enemies you were, and the second timeline which was built to where you were standing now.

It was good. An 80’s based love story, coming of age type of series. Changing a little bit the story so they’d be teenagers and have them roll around with shenanigans.

The story of William, Tom.

And Valerie, you.

Two teenagers who hated each other.

You walked with him, and it felt different. Somehow the people who had danced on the street were strangers to you. Because you saw Tom and you saw yourself and you didn’t feel like the children you once had been. Sure, there was a faint reminder of that scrawny guy you’d known your whole life with his silly comments and his overflowing energy. But… it wasn’t the same. To think that the—monster you had grown to know had never been one? Or he had, but only as a facade.

However, it could be an act… but you were sure it wasn’t. Not from him.

And not from you, either. Even if sometimes it felt like one.

But now you saw his eyes, begging for forgiveness, tender and light. Eyes pleading you to say those words back.

He was in love with you. And it… hurt. Why must it hurt?

You stopped him before you got close to the hotel, the city felt like it was only for you. The lights were only a blurred memory now, you barely saw any stars. But it was still amazing, nothing mattered. The buzzing streets fell quiet, and the only light that mattered was that streetlight where you were standing by. He looked sad, too.

It was bizarre. But you gave him a quick kiss, that told him it was alright. It would be, eventually. You liked to believe that. And seeing him there with those sympathetic eyes, and that gentle and tender smile, drove you completely insane.

But damn, you couldn’t put a price to the emotions you were feeling, it felt unethical and wrong. And quite confusing, actually. But the script was the least that mattered to you as you were trying to sketch the path your own heart was following.

You knew it would still be different, throughout all of this.

“Do we have a verdict?” He asked as you walked into the hotel.

“I’m still deciding it,” you admitted. “What am I even deciding, again?”

“I dunno, you’ve been quiet and I only assumed you were trying to decide something.”

You took his hand and locked your fingers. “Guess I am.”

“What are you deciding? If I may ask?”

“I’m having trouble believing it,” you confessed. “I—I am having trouble believing you were in love with me.”

“Not past tense,” he cleared his throat. “I am in love with you.”

“But why? What’s wrong with you?” You chuckled.

He nudged you. “A lot of things, but I am…”he stopped and then stared at you. “I am deeply, stupidly and annoyingly in love with you, y/n.”

You wanted to say it back right then. Even if being in love and loving wasn’t the same, you wanted him to know. You smiled. “Well, it’s difficult to believe it.”

“Why?”

“Because you are… you and I am me,” you explained. “You are Tom, and I’m just stinky and stupid y/n.”

“You’re not as stinky,” he joked.

“Dickhead,” she nudged him.

He looked at you, “I thought you’d be deciding something else.”

“Like what?” You frowned.

He coughed, and ran a hand through his face.

“Tom?”

“Not sure,” he admitted but you were sure he lied. He probably was waiting for you to say it back.

Technically you had hinted it, hadn’t you? The whole: you had been on my mind all the time. But… God, you didn’t want to say it out loud. Saying it out loud meant making it real. Your heart was beating so fast. So, so fast. But then again, your sane reasoning was reminding of the constant aggravation.

But god that was stupid.

You wanted to get in the elevator already, kiss him without any confrontation, because even if you were the only ones in the world right now, the crowds were still there, and they couldn’t know. You had to be alone, and you had to wrap your arms around him. You just needed another kiss for confirmation. And maybe some more just to make sure.

The elevator had been a safe space for both of you, since you’d arrived, every time you’d gotten into you’d share a kiss there. A new one each day. Never a same kiss twice. Tom had taught you that there were more than a million ways to kiss and that he’d be willing to explore a new one each passing moment.

But of course, life was a bitch and just as you thought you’d be alone in the elevator, an old couple walked in as well.

You frowned but hugged Tom, at first you saw him hesitate but he hugged you back. He placed a soft kiss on top of your head, as you nuzzled into him. You felt safe, which you hadn’t been. Your mind started to shut up, and you were enjoying the moment, feeling him, as you could smell the remaining cologne from his neck, and you felt his fingers pressing against your back.

The elevator door opened as the couple wished you goodnight and as soon as it had closed you smashed your lips to his, taking him by surprise.

But his hands immediately went to your waist, as he tried to pull you closer to him. The kiss was… breathtaking, but not as the usual kisses you’ve had on this elevator, hot and full of passion, wanting to undress the other already. No.

This kiss was soft, like a thousand butterflies. He was kissing your soul, it felt like an end of the summer breeze. Yet it felt… sad. As if he was apologizing, in a way.

And maybe it was the look in his eyes, or the way he had warmed you with his embrace, or the fact that you felt like your heart was so close to his that you finally knew it, or… you finally accepted it. You loved him. That was undeniable. As stupid as that feeling may be, and as much as it hurt.

The kiss lasted so long you were sharing each other’s breaths by the time the door opened again. And it felt soothing and inviting and thrilling and bright.

He pulled away, and you gulped, as you slowly walked out. He chuckled nervously as he led the way. He kissed your cheek before opening the door.

He seemed nervous, and you were, too, probably. You felt like your heart was about to pop off your chest. He cleared his throat before heading to the bed.

You both were too quiet. But you both followed the routine, the teeth brushing, make-up wiping. Quietly this time.

You saw him head to the bed, he checked his notifications but didn’t open them. You had noticed that about you both, you rarely picked up your phone when you were together.

He took a deep breath and then stared at the city from the window, sitting on the edge of the bed. You wish this was the script, at least there you could control every tiny situation, but this? How could you control any of this. You could write a million pages and it would never be enough to explain how you felt towards him.

“Tom?” You called him anyway. As you walked over to him.

“Yeah?” He smiled at you.

“I have a verdict,” you said. But did you really?

He took your hand, nervously. “Yeah?”

“I… Me too.”

That was the most stupid sentence that you could say and it didn’t come remotely close to everything you wanted to tell him.

He furrowed his brows with confusion. “What?”

“I—“you cleared your throat, the words didn’t want to come out. Not out loud. “I… what you’ve said before.”

“I said a lot of things, y/n,” he reminded you as you sat beside him, he gave his attention back to the city.

You kept watching him, tracing his side profile slowly, you feared saying it because if you said it, there was no going back for once.

He pursed his lips, and then squeezed your hand.

“You asked me why I said no to Tim,” you started.

He frowned and then turned to you.

“I thought we were done—“

“The real reason why I said no, was because I’ve also—“you stopped yourself. You had to say it. But it felt weird, the words didn’t want to come out, he only stared at you,“I’ve also been in love with you my whole life, and I still am even more deeply than ever.”

You had said it. In a way. Because he knew this, you knew he was well aware of this.

You’ve said it before. How he had been your first love, not the only one. But there was always something you had believed in: nothing is as truthful as the first love because it’s the most spontaneous one, you never plan it, or just...arrives. Over the years you learn, and you find love and we learn how to trick ourselves into believing it’s love, and we let ourselves fall into the routines and lies the world tells us about it, about how it should feel, but not with the first one. Because the first love is so magical, so real and authentic. You don’t plan it.

And maybe that’s why it’s so easy to fall back in love with one’s first love. Because it feels real. Even if it isn’t.

And you knew that when he was gone, you were still thinking about him, that you still got dressed up and then ended up crying on your couch again.

Because you knew it, Timmy was...perfect. But Tom wasn’t, he truly wasn’t and yet…

Tom watched you, as if now it was him who was trying to convince himself he believed you. You saw a hint of blush forming on his cheeks, and his eyes crinkle just slightly.

“And—“now you couldn't stop yourself. “It hurts to think I’ve spent my whole life loving you, and that the feelings might have been reciprocated without us truly knowing, and it hurts to think we spent our whole lives pulling that kind of crap when I should’ve spent all my life kissing that dumb face of yours, because… I love you. And—Maybe, maybe that’s why we didn’t take it slow, you know?” The damned word slipped again, and again and again, as if once you��d said it it had to come out for every time you’d stayed quiet and kept it to yourself. You cursed to yourself mentally. He remained quiet. And you only wanted the world to suck you in and spit you elsewhere far away from him. Maybe this was after Rome all over again, maybe he’d said the words that you dreaded, he’d say that he didn’t love you back. That this was all an act, that you’d be in agony again.

But you continued, because you are stupid. “Because—Why would I take it slow with someone whom I already know, flaws and all, and why would I take it slow with someone I love? Why the fuck should I waste more time if I love you? Why the fuck should I stop myself from feeling when I know you’re far from perfect but I still love you as you are—And why the fuck haven’t you shut me up with a damn kiss, idiot?” You demanded and he finally smiled.

He chuckled before leaning over to kiss you, pushing you to the bed, laying down right beside you, with his hand on your waist. The kiss felt golden, if you could ever give color to a kiss, that would be it, golden, so bright and tempting.

“I love you,” he admitted, as he stared at your eyes and then at your lips, he leaned down to place another soft kiss.

Hearing it, was way too different from all the times you’ve said it before.You’d said the words before but with different meanings. Purely as a sentiment obligated by the nature of your families’ relationship. Or maybe as a hidden—very hidden friendship. But not like this. Not this heart stopping “I love you.” Not this blushing and looking into each other’s eyes crap.

Not this, that once it had come out of your mouth, it had been so easy to say.

“And I didn’t shut you up because.. I just wanted to hear it from you—I technically said it first,” Tom said.

You immediately frowned. “What?” You questioned. “No, you said you were in love with me, not that you loved me,” you stated.

“Are you getting technical now, y/n?” He teased. The moment was ruined.

“Yes.”

He chuckled. “Well it doesn’t count—I told you how I felt first,” he said.

“No, I did-”

“I said I had been in love,” he said. “Falling in love and saying I love you is the same—”

“No it’s not,” you frowned.

“In this case, it is,” he laughed as he kissed your neck. And you knew what he meant. You already knew he loved you—just not in this way.

“No,” you snapped.

He chuckled. “You just want to take pride on believing that you said it first.”

You smirked. “Yes, of course.”

He brushed his lips against yours, butterflies invading your soul. “But you didn’t, I said it first, idiot” he sentenced.

“You did not, frogface!” You pushed him, and then sat right on top of his lap, he laughed, laying down.

“I did!” He grinned, before pulling the pillow from behind his head to playfully hit you.

“You did not! And Oi!” You complained before taking the other pillow to hit him right on his face.

The pillow fight continued, along with the whole: ‘It was me’ ‘No,me!’ bickering, until Tom pulled you back to kiss you yet again.

“Are we actually fighting over who said I love you first?” He asked you.

“Yes,” you grinned, as you played with his hair.

“I can’t believe you, y/n,” he laughed.

“I’ve been holding it back my whole life, I have the right to,” you complained, as you cupped his face delicately to pepper him with soft kisses.

He closed his eyes as his hand travelled throughout your whole back. “You think I haven’t been trying to tell you my whole life?”

“Hm,” you only looked up slightly, but kissed your way over to his collarbone, barely exposed.

“And it’s different, because—We knew we loved each other just not in that way,” he whispered. He was right but you wouldn’t let him know that.

You looked up, “So what?” Still leaving wet kisses across his whole exposed neck.

“So I said it first,” he stated. You stopped kissing him. “Hey,” he complained.

You sat back up. “But you knew I was in love with you before,” you reminded him.

“But not right now,” he complained.

You scoffed, “You actually didn’t know I was in love with you right now.”

“No,” he tried pulling you back to him.

You smirked, rolling your eyes. “So you think I was only kissing you because of—“

He shrugged as he placed his hands on your waist. “I’m hot y/n, I turn you on.”

You coughed, faking a laugh. “You don’t.”

He pulled you back to him, his hands traveling down to cup your ass, pushing you against him. He connected your lips with his on a sloppy, messy but deepened kiss. He managed to turn you both around, now him on top. He kissed his way to suck on your neck. You only closed your eyes

“Fine you do,” you admitted pushing him away giggling, as he only stared at you with a smirk. “but that’s not what I was—You’re saying you didn’t know I was in love?”

He smiled, shaking his head. “I did not, I swear.”

“Well, I am,” you admitted.

He beamed. “Hm, and I am too.” He placed a hand on the back of your neck, and pulled you into a long kiss. His hands toyed with the hem of your shirt. You helped him take it off as he kissed down from your shoulders to your chest.

“You know you can’t kiss me away to change my mind,” you mentioned.

He nuzzled into your chest. “Oh I know, I know you’re a stubborn ass.”

“Hey,” you playfully smacked his head.

“Oi,” he climbed back up. “But we also just said I love you for the first time which it’s a pretty big deal,” he whispered.

You blushed. “Huh guess it is,” you beamed, pulling him for yet another kiss.

“Hmmm,” he hummed.

You pulled away. “But I did say it first.”

“Sh,” he chuckled, kissing you.

“I love you,” you said between peppers.

“Hmh, I love you,” he said back. And it felt so weird but so nice hearing it. You could listen to him say it again and again. Your new favorite song.

“There, I said it first,” you teased.

Tom had to sit back up to hold back his laughter. “Oh my god shut up,” he said with a grin.

You smirked. “Make me.”

But he didn’t lean over as you expected him to, he didn’t lean over to kiss you in the way he had the nights before. Not with the hunger and lust burning in his eyes. Not with desire.

He leaned over with a quick peck, and with a gentle smile. Slowly, his fingers threaded up and down your stomach, as he stared at your eyes, only. He only smiled against the kiss, and you did, too. You barely were even kissing, it was only silly smiles clumsily bumping into each other. A deep kiss then, your hands brushing his hair and his hand on your waist pulling him closer.

You took off his shirt then, with his help as he climbed up to you, slow movements of his soft and light fingers as they bristled on your skin. Soft caresses of his lips, so slow as he bit your bottom lip.

You wanted to say it again, but you didn’t want to wear it out. But you knew that with your lips against his he knew it. And he knew he wasn’t perfect for you, and he knew you weren’t either. He probably wasn’t the guy whom everyone would think you’d end up, and you could definitely see the ending to this, but it didn’t matter. He was perfect right now.

His soft fingers travelled on your body, he hadn’t seemed to notice you were still wearing the pink flowered lingerie, or maybe he had, but his sight wouldn’t leave yours, as your own hands were brushing his cheeks, slightly caressing his lips.

He went down to your neck next, nipping at your skin gently, his hands tracing your sides, and your own hands pressing down from his chest to his stomach.

“I love you,” he said hoarsely.

His clothes were a burden now, as your fingers were silking down finding freckles as you were barely looking at his back. Your lips parted, as you looked at him, his hair falling down to his eyes.

And though his hands were going down to your heat, it didn’t feel like teasing, it felt more like he was exploring, as if he was memorizing it, just like you were counting each freckle on his body. He slowly undressed you completely, the underwear now hanging somewhere in the room. Once your body was free from the clothes and as you were pulling down his own pants, he started to chillingly kiss his way down to your stomach.

Soft and tender, almost unnoticeable kisses. You wrapped your legs around him, wanting to feel his warm body pressed against yours, you wanted to feel each and every heartbeat. Your body flushed with each touch, as his tongue slid up from your chest back to your neck. You pushed him slightly, shifting to be on top of him and kiss him, his chest, his stomach, your hands pressing his bulky arms and then back on his lips, as you smiled against each kiss.

“I love you,” you said this time.

And he was holding your body like he knew it completely, and he probably did. Since you both arrived in New York, he had probably kissed every single spot on your body, and you had kissed his. You probably were now memorizing each and every spot, the ones that were pretty and the ones that weren’t. But tonight, it wasn’t like every other night in New York, it felt like the city was quiet, and it felt like the lights that came in weren’t the buildings.

He sat you both up, with his nips getting sloppier with each kiss, as he tried to grind against you, with sweat now dripping from both of your bodies. You were melting against each touch, and you were sure the only sound in the room were your lips pressing to each other and the sweaty skin meeting softly. Velvety soothing sighs each time you pulled away, with his hands massaging every inch of your body, and your hands tugging at his untamable hair. Both of you giggled every once in a while to the kiss, as your fingers tickled his body. You had reached for the drawer in the nightstand, which had just been restocked that day with condoms.

Bodies wrapped around each other, as he finally looked at you, as if asking for permission and you only nodded at his hazy, hungry eyes. You helped him wrap up the condom and then positioned yourself.

You took a deep breath as you sank down now getting your core close to his length, you’d felt it growing more and more with each kiss, and your own sex had been pooling but both of you had seemed to ignore it, too lost in each other’s lips. Your lips parted just slightly as you felt him enter you, you gripped to his back as his own hands settled on your waist. You slowly lowered yourself, as both of you exhaled with relief.

You nuzzled into his neck, as you slowly bounced up and down, rolling your hips, as he thrusted in and out. Soft moans slipping out of his mouth, as he called your name and only your nme.

A steady rhythm as he brushed your sensitive sweet spots each time he thrusted in and out. Your lips found his again, as she smiled against them. And you were sure you could feel your heartbeat, and through pleasure you both tried to chase down both of your lips, urging to be so close to each other.

You rested your forehead against his as your bouncing was turning even lazier, and barely even rocking, your thighs were yearning for relief, and maybe Tom sensed it as he pushed her back into the bed, now his thrusts burying deeper, each time, as your hands cupped his head. The friction getting you exactly where you wanted to, and you knew he was close, too, his drilling had become sloppy. You reflexively closed your thighs but he opened them back up. It was building up in your stomach, the overwhelming sensation of both of you seeing stars.

He kept moaning your name and you kept moaning his, and he’d slip out every now and then and ‘I love you’, as both of you were shaking.

Tonight you’d been quiet, not like every other night here in New York. You were only loud enough for the other to hear, because that’s all you needed.

You didn’t last much, and you only gripped to his shoulders, and he followed after, his hips pushing harder until his release sprung out.

He laid on top of you, as you listened to each other soft breaths and heartbeats. Once you both caught your breath he pulled out, but turned you around to kiss you again.

And that’s all you really needed, sweet pecks around each other’s bodies, soft and quiet ‘I love you’s and giggling and smiling, blushing each time you looked into each other's' eyes.

You couldn’t remember how you had finally slept in his arms, so close to his heart. But you barely slept after that, you only watched him, and there was a part of you that really knew he wouldn’t fuck up, you would. You watch him fall asleep, and when you were sure he was out, you kissed his cheek and then headed to the small sofa, and then opened your laptop as the bright script stared at you, you wanted to change it all. And you had to tell him, but how could you tell him?

You had to change this, but could you change the entire series? When you had to give it back in a week. But maybe you could tell him it was only based on your life, slightly. Besides, it ended on a happy note.

This felt wrong. But you couldn’t help but smile, watching him. And you wrote the happy ending, how you had had it all wrong and how stupid it is to doubt love. How the girl ended u falling in love with him, anyway.

Eventually you were drifting off, so you closed your laptop and got back in bed with him, he pulled you close to him.

You woke up to the sound of the shower and an empty bed. You could hear Tom singing from the shower. ‘I think we’re alone now’.

And it was funny how you now had the perfect soundtrack to your relationship, a quirky 80’s song that probably wouldn’t be considered romantic, and it definitely wasn’t the type of song you’d expect to dedicate. But you had danced to it, and your hearts had synced to it. Stupid as it may be.

You hummed along, and you took out your laptop again. You typed it in, as a reminder, to find a song. Just the kind of song that had the same undertone, a bright song with lyrics that fit perfectly.

“Morning,” you grinned as the door opened. “Lovely voice you’ve got there.”

“‘M sorry you looked so peaceful, didn’t want to wake you up, dumbass” he said as he had walked out of the shower, towel around his waist, droplets falling down his hair. “Did I wake you up-?”

“No, you didn’t. All showered up, I see,” you grinned, closing your laptop. “Any plans today, frogface?”

“I do, actually, want to go out with my girlfriend.”

“Oh,” you blushed. “You have a girlfriend? Should’ve told me before all of this happened.”

He laughed. “Idiot.”

You blew him a kiss.

“I wanted to take you to a museum,” he commented, making his way over. “We have all these two days to ourselves so maybe we could enjoy it, then only two days more filming and we’re back, so I wanted to take you out on New York.”

“Hm, or we could stay in bed all day,” you suggested, as you pulled his hand, he sat right beside you. He leaned over to kiss you.

“Hm, no, as much as I’d love that...” he laughed. “C’mon, you’ve never been to New York before,” he said.

And he was right.

“Fine, a museum then?” You grinned as you wiped off a drop of water falling down his face.

“Yeah, Museum of Moving Image, it’s basically a film museum, it’s in Queens.”

“Queens, huh?” you grinned. “We could visit Peter Parker.”

He laughed. “You have him right here, babe.”

“No, Peter is smart,” you kissed his nose as he laughed with fake pain. “But didn’t you have tickets for a game?”

He bit his lip. “Yeah, but.. That’s not really your scene, so… First the museum and then go listen to the Philharmonic,” he chuckled. “Or something aesthetic”

You chuckled. “Sounds nice,” you bit your lip.

“And you’re not excited?” He tilted your head. “You loved to do that stuff with… Him.”

“Which is exactly,” you closed your eyes.

“What, now?”

“Tom, you don’t have to… I love you for who you are, okay? Let’s go to the game, and have fun, and really, let’s just explore New York, alright?” You leaned over to kiss him.

He grinned. “Fine, we’ll go to the game.”He looked down at your laptop. “Hm?”

“Sorry, I was writing,” you admitted.

He grinned. “Ah, right, your script,” he chuckled. “Completely forgot about that.”

“Yeah, I kind of want to be a writer for movies and such and kind of am an aspiring director,” you chuckled.

“And here I thought you were having the time of your life being my assistant.”

“Am I an assistant though?” You laughed. “Kind of feel like a hooker now, this definitely wasn’t on the job description.”

He burst out in laughter, blushing. He cleared his throat. “Now you know why Haz and I moved in together.”

You playfully smacked him. “Idiot.”

He finally laid back down on the bed. “So, what’s the script about?”

You felt your heart stopping. “Um.”

He chuckled. “Fine, don’t tell me,” he laughed. “I remember you used to write the best stories.”

You rolled your eyes. “You never liked any of them.”

“That’s what I made you think,” he winked. “But I remember all kinds of stories.”

“Yea,” you gulped.

“So?”

“You’ll know it when I’m ready for you to know it, okay?” You pecked him in the lips and then quickly headed to the shower, too.

The rest of the day was fun, you went to a baseball game, holding hands and having fun, you got a little bit carried away by the game as you cheered for whatever team was playing, you’d shared a few kisses, covered by both your caps. It felt so different from Rome. Though you still had to hide, there were people who had recognized him and you definitely didn’t want the world to know about this… relationship before you even knew what it was. Besides, if the word spread around it would get to your families and you definitely were not ready to tell them, yet. And you knew it would be a terrible way to find out.

But that didn’t stop you from having fun, and from laughing and enjoying the time with him, as both of you showed a side to each other that you’d never shown before, a side where you both were trying to show your best side, your best smile and your best laugh. The nicest jokes and the best manners. And your heart couldn’t stop beating so fast each time you shared a kiss.

And you explored New York, just letting the city drive you to wherever it led. Getting on the subway, admiring street art, searching through the loud crowds. Finding places that were barely noticed by the usual tourists, but that you both found fun enough. Sometimes he’d find random moments to whisper he loved you, and your heart stopped each time. It wouldn’t wear out.

Somehow, you both ended up deciding to go to the Modern Pinball, where you both were trying to prove the other that they were better at the game. And it felt, in a way like when you were children, laughing and competing without trying to hurt each other, but of course beat the other. The arcade was magical, and romantic in a way.

He won, but you didn’t acknowledge it.

But he kept mentioning it as you sat down at a nice New York bar, beer on both of your hands.

“I won.”

“You cheated,” you commented, laughing. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“Hm you’re just bitter because you suck at pinball,” he sassed.

You felt it, again. The magic, the night changing. Fearing that it would change again, not now, not tomorrow but soon.

“That’s no way to talk to your girlfriend,” you said, flipping him off.

“Oh, she’s here?” He looked around.

“Dickhead.”

“Fartface,” he grinned. “So, you actually are my girlfriend, then?”

“Dunno, feels like we’ve messed all the order up,” you chuckled. “We first broke each other’s heart, then we slept together, then you asked me out, then we said I love you and now we’re dating, what kind of order is that?”

He snorted. “Hm, at this point we’ll end up getting a divorce first, then a kid, go to our kid’s wedding and then get married ourselves and right after that we’ll finally go to our third date.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Silly.”

“At least we already broke each other’s hearts, we skipped the worst part,” he smiled.

You looked down with a sad smile.

But you were both quick to change the subject. And then he kept insisting on going to the museum the next day, and you were actually kind of excited for it. Though you both were laughing at how both Harrison and your brother were asking for an update on your relationship.

“I think we should tell them,” he said.

“Hm, really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I don’t want to hide this.”

You smiled. “Really?”

He chuckled, “Second date but, yes y/n, I want you to meet my parents, dumbface” he grinned.

“I already know your parents, idiot,” you pointed out.

“Not as my girlfriend, you don’t.”

And you’d both gone quiet. That was fast, so so fast, and this meant he really was going serious, which meant you had to be quick with your own thoughts over the script. You had to back away. You had to give this up. Or tell him. Find a way to tell him.

“So I am your girlfriend?” You teased chuckling.

He seemed to realize it, though, maybe he was backing away.

“No, but might be fun to make them think you are,” he cleared his throat before chuckling. “And we can pretend it, too, and just--”

“Fine, I’ll meet your parents,” you smiled, kissing his hand. “And maybe you can meet mine, too.”

But of course, the fairytale had to end, didn’t it? You didn’t even remember how it had happened, you only remembered crying on the edge of the bed. And Tom pacing around the room.

The fucking film canister, a single damned prop had ruined the last 24 hours. Your stupid decision had made everything explode. Nothing that either of you’d said or felt or done mattered because he found the film canister.

Of course you didn’t expect him to be calm about it. And he had been when he had found it. Initially, until he connected the dots.

How had he found it?

How the hell had he found it?

Why the fuck had you forgotten it was on your purse? And then you were cursing yourself for not giving it back, why hadn’t you given it back? Why were you so confused towards Timmy? Were you planning on keeping it forever?

“y/n, oh my god, I just… You just carry this around everywhere?” He frowned.

“No, I don’t.”

“Why--I… Please, sorry just walk me through this, please, I… You have his engagement ring? You kept the engagement ring?”

“I told you what happened, alright? I wanted to say yes at that point.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were planning on saying yes, and were you planning on saying it right now-?”

“I brought it to give it back to him, alright?” You snapped. “I was going to do it yesterday at dinner.”

“And you didn’t,” Tom snapped. “Which has to mean something, I-”

“I literally just said I loved you, you really think it means something?”

“Y/N, yes!” Tom cried. “You said it yesterday, you’ve always believed he might be the love of your life.”

“And I fucking said I was in love with you throughout my whole relationship with him, and I also fucking said I said no to that ring because I still loved you!”

“Yet you still have this!” He pointed out.

“Fine, give it to me, I’ll go right now and give it back to him,” you walked over, snatching it from his hand.

Tim opened up the door to his hotel room, he had just showered you could tell, as he was drying his hair with the white towel. He smiled brightly at you, and you only wanted to forget this, get yourself out of this situation.

And you wondered how wrong this was, because there was still that buzzing in your ear saying that he should be the one you should love, he was the guy whom you should end up with. Everybody saw it, the guy whom your parents had loved, the guy who was clean and who understood you, the fairytale, and the rom com, the guy who you were supposed to love. And yet, with everything your heart still belonged to Tom.

“Hi,” he grinned. “You arrived early… I uh, want to head somewhere?” You had called him on your way.

“No,” you answered quickly, and you had to hold your breath. “I…” You had been playing with the film canister all the way from your own hotel. You handed it to him as he watched it curiously. “I need to give it back. I… I wanted to wait until we were back in London but I need to get rid of this guilt, Tim, I can’t let you keep holding on to something that might never…” You started, and you had promised yourself you wouldn’t cry but then again you had promised yourself you wouldn’t love Tom again, you were very good at breaking promises.

Tim looked up, slightly, and then he opened it, revealing the ring he’d once given you. He stayed quiet. “Alright.”

That’s all he had said, but you knew it wasn’t alright. “I’m so sorry, Tim, I hope you find someone who will love you as much as you deserve to be loved and more,” you said, and the tears were already streaming down. You didn’t wipe them off, as if you weren’t acknowledging them.

He pursed his lips. “This is it, huh?”

“I.. I don’t know Tim, I… I’m so sorry.”

He only stared at it. “Can I ask…. where did I go wrong?”

“You didn’t.” And that’s what hurt the most, you guessed. That he had been perfect, just… Not for your heart.

“I—I just want to know what I did wrong, what could I have done better?” He pushed, as he finally looked into your eyes, and you saw him hurt. And that’s the last thing you ever wanted, to see him hurt. He didn’t deserve to be hurt.

“It’s not you,” you admitted.

“I still—I feel like I could’ve done so much more,” he said as he walked out of his room to lean against the wall. “and—And I know, I know you never loved me like—”

“I loved you, Timmy.” Because you didn’t want him to think you’d never loved him.

“Not the way you should’ve,” he scoffed.

You tensed up. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know I’m just—”He ran a hand through his face and then through his hair. “I’m sorry, I’m being annoying. I should get over you.”

You didn’t answer.

“I’ve been trying to understand what went wrong,”he said, mostly to himself it seemed. “We almost never fought y/n, we always—we were happy, and I thought we were okay, but it seemed like every Friday you’d get dressed up but then realize it was for me, as if it didn’t excite you, as if every time you picked up you wished it was him instead.”

It felt like you were being stabbed on your stomach. “No timmy you did, I loved you, it was you…”

“It wasn’t, y/n,” he gulped. “I only wanted to love you, y/n, and—And I don’t understand what happened. And—It was my mistake but I guess I asked for too much.”

“No, Timmy, this is me.”

“No, I know,” you saw his eyes were now starting to water but he discreetly wiped a tear off. “And I’m sad I ran out of chances because there is just so much love still waiting okay?”

You wanted to change this, you wanted to fast forward this moment, to know the right answer, read the spoiler and know how this would end.

“And we never had a proper goodbye,” he continued. “And I understand that you wanted to be loved,” he smiled sadly. “That’s all I did, you only asked to be loved but—Maybe that was my problem, I never asked you to love me back.”

“I did love you back, so much, and I still do, I’m just… I am so sorry I wasn’t able to love you like you deserved to.” Because he didn’t deserve to be feeling this way

“And does he?” He closed the film canister again and played with it.

“What?”

“Does he love you like he’s supposed to? Because I see you smiling, but you’ve—You've painted him as such a monster-” He sighed.

“He’s not a monster.”

“How long will it take him to break your heart again?” He asked, as if he was asking for an actual day, to be prepared. “Because maybe y/n—I won’t be there, fuck now I sound toxic…I am super toxic, fuck,” he closed his eyes. “I just have the right to be sad, okay? Or angry I guess,” he nodded and looked away. “I mean yoou were in love with another man throughout our whole relationship..” He said with poison.

You scowled. “I wasn’t, I was in love with you.”

“All the time?”

You leaned against the other wall, crossing your arms. “It took me a while, but I did, I loved… I love you, alright? I’m just…” You paced around. “It’s so complicated, Timmy, I just… I want to be with him right now, okay?”You snapped. “And I’m sorry Tim, I’m just willing to risk it, I need to know what it feels like to finally be loved by him.”

He nodded, and then silenced himself for a while.

“Was there anything I could’ve done?”

“Tim.” You squeezed your eyes shut, and he walked over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“I just need to know.”

“It wasn’t you, Tim, it was me, and it’s… “You walked out of his embrace. “It’s horrible because I know .. There's a part of me that knows that you’re… “You gulped and watched him, raising your voice. “You’re supposed to be the love of my life and I don’t get it, alright? And when you were gone, I didn’t want you to be another story, okay? I cried so much because I knew I had lost you...But… “You scowled. “My heart just keeps being an idiot, but right now I don’t care, okay?” You admitted. “If he wants to break my heart then it’s alright, I’m willing to get my heart broken one last time, maybe I’ll finally learn but right now, let me enjoy this,” you pleaded. “Let me have this, and I know it, everyone says it, you’re my endgame, you and I are perfect for each other but Tim, I can’t do this to you, I love him, right now I want to be with him.”

Tim watched you. “And do you really love him? Or is he only the story you wanted to write?”

“What do you mean?”

“You tend to confuse real life with your own writings, and you tend to dream too much and often forget that life isn’t a movie, y/n,” he commented.

“That’s not what’s happening,” you snapped.

“I know, I’m…”He pinched the bridge of his now. “Guess I’m only trying to convince myself, sorry.”

You stayed silent.

“I’m sorry, it’s… I’ll see you at Harry and Emma’s engagement party,” he said as he was walking back to his room.

“What?”

He sighed. “Yeah, as much as it might bother you to see me, I’m still the bride’s best friend,” he shrugged.

“I didn’t know they were having-”

“Yeah, when we come back, Emma only told me, don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll tell you, after all you’re the maid of honor, aren’t you? Or maybe Harry…” Tim closed his eyes. “We really fucked up by introducing our best friends to each other huh.”

You didn’t say anything.

“Will you and Tom still be a secret?” Tim asked.

“Dunno.”

He sighed. “I know I’m asking too much but please, try to…” He gulped. “Keep down the snogging when you guys are around, I know it’s a new relationship but.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” he gulped as he then closed the door.

Maybe you were wrong, maybe knowing that someone was the love of your life but your heart not wanting them back was what hurt the most.

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ragingpancake · 3 years ago

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Lieutenant Colonel Idiot and the Kastat Root

A/N: I randomly came across a comment the other day while looking for H/C John fics where someone mentioned they wanted to see John having to have some sort of surgery off-world and this monstrosity happened. Unbetaed so all errors are mine, sorry about it!

Part 2 will be posted soon!

It starts with a stomachache and a fever. Okay no, scratch that. It started three days ago with a stomachache and a fever that he so stupidly decided to keep quiet about. He’d known that there was an upcoming mission on the books, knew that his team was scheduled to go off-world and knew that anything so much as a hangnail would ground him. So he’d just… you know, not mentioned it to anyone. Boy, had that been a mistake. So, it started three days ago with a stomachache and a the slightest of fevers that had just not gone away, annoying and ever present, but not so bad enough that it gave him cause for concern. Even earlier that morning as they loaded up into the Jumper, he’d not given it much thought, figuring that they’d just get through this mission and then he’d go talk to Carson if it hadn’t eased up. That had been his second mistake. Which is how he’s ended up here, sandwiched in between Ronon and Teyla at the feasting table with the good people of M3-X982 while Rodney waxes poetic about the almost-meatloaf they’d been served, all while trying to ignore just how hot he’d gotten, along with the stabbing pain he was experiencing less intermittently and more frequently as the night went by. He thinks he’s doing a fine job of hiding it, really, when Teyla leans over, a gentle hand resting on his shoulder. “Are you alright, Colonel?” Busted.

He means to give her a lazy, lopsided smile, to brush off her concern but what happens instead is that another stabbing pain shoots through his middle and all he can do is gasp at the force of it, loud enough that even Rodney actually shuts up for once. Three things happen in rapid succession: Ronon, assuming the worst, rises quick enough to knock the chair he’s been occupying backwards, while pulling out the blaster and aiming it at their hosts while Teyla speaks quickly, trying to diffuse the situation, ever the diplomat. And John… well, he tries to tell Ronon to knock it off, that the Plesians hadn’t poisoned him, but all he manages is a pained whimper before his entire world seemingly shifts on its axis and sends him tumbling off of his chair and to the ground, keening like a wounded animal. -- He doesn’t realize at first that he’s curled up on his side, drenched in his own sweat and covered in vomit and oh wow, when did he even throw up? “Colonel Sheppard,” Teyla says, her voice calm and soothing, and when he glances up at her, he can see Rodney over her shoulder, completely scandalized at the mess. It might be funny, except you know, John’s having a real hard time focusing on anything other than the pain. “John,” Teyla says again, more firm this time, and right, okay, focusing. He can do this. He totally can. “Doctor Frenlen would like to examine you but for this to happen, we need to get you back to the quarters the Plesians have so graciously provided. Can you stand?” “Are you crazy?” Rodney snaps and he might be even more pale than John is. “Of course he can’t stand, if he could stand, he wouldn’t be laying in a puddle of his own puke, now would he?” Teyla, the beautiful soul that she is, doesn’t even dignify Rodney’s snappish response with so much as a glance, instead looking up to Ronon with a nod. “Sorry Sheppard,” he mutters before he’s crouching down and lifting John into his arms. And John, stoic though he usually is… Well. He doesn’t really remember that part but later, Ronon will tell him about how he screamed and promptly passed out. Great. ----

See, this a prime example as to why Rodney McKay actually hatesthe Pegasus Galaxy. Atlantis, not so much, though there have been times that he’s found himself very cross with her too, but usually, she doesn’t try to kill them.

Well, perhaps that wasn’t entirely accurate, what with the (almost) ascension thing. And the virus meant to eradicate anyone not possessing the ATA gene… And the-- Okay, you know what? May she has tried to kill them but that’s not the point right now. The point is, they’re stuck on another god forsaken planet with absolutely no access to the gate thanks to the literal acid rainthat’s pouring down outside, something that the Plesians assure them will pass come morning because it does this every damn night here and why on Earth hadn’t the ancient database warned them of this?

Maybe he needs to take Atlantis off the pedestal he’s placed her on and add her to the list of things he hates about Pegasus after all. Okay, he’ll take that back. Maybe. Probably once Sheppard’s done with his poorly timed medical emergency, which brings him back to the present, crowded in a tiny room with a man old enough to be his grandfather “examining” the aforementioned Colonel. Rodney has never wished Carson was part of their gate team as much as he does in this moment, because for all the ways that medical “science” was actual voodoo, at least Carson seemed to be the most intelligent shaman they’ve come across to date. Present company included. The “Doctor” is hovering over John, poking and prodding, each touch eliciting quiet moans and whimpers from the barely conscious Sheppard, which worries Rodney enough as is. John usually prefers to suffer in manly silence and the fact that’s unable to remain stupidly stoic in this particular instance means that something must be really, really wrong. And that’s when Frenlen’s hand barely ghosts over John’s right side and the scream that Sheppard releases is one that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. “Please,” John pants as Teyla takes his hand, offering him as much comfort as she possibly can while Ronon stands at John’s head, fingering his blaster with an almost murderous look directed at Frenlen. “Please don’t do that again,” and another pained moan escapes him. Rodney, for his part, is taken back to the week after his seventeenth birthday when he was hospitalized with acute appendicitis and oh no. Oh, no, no, no. “What is it, Doctor McKay?” Teyla asks and he doesn’t realize that he’s moved from the spot that he’s previously been rooted to. He ignores her, glaring down at Sheppard. “How long?” He asks through almost clenched teeth. “What are you—“ Ronon tries, but Rodney cuts him off. “How long, Sheppard?” And Rodney might smack him if not for the fact that his fri—the Colonel didn’t look quite so pathetic, black hair matted to his forehead with fever, face pale from the pain. He still thinks about it when John answers, “coupla’ days.” “He needs the kastat root,” Frenlen interjects and Rodney has never hated medicine as much as he does in this moment. “No,” he snaps. “He needs an appendectomy.” Frenlen blinks at him, face blank and oh great. Of course. Of course he has no idea what Rodney’s talking about because that’s absolutely their luck. “We need to get back to the gate,” Rodney says and Frenlen shakes his head. “You can’t. The rain will not cease until morning,” which was still several hours away by their estimation and what if Sheppard doesn’t have that long? If his stupid appendix has already ruptured, there’s a possibility that infection is already seeping into abdominal cavity, and with Lieutenant Colonel Idiot having sat on this for “a coupla’ days” (God, Rodney wants to punch him), there’s an extremely good chance that that’s exactly what’s taking place. If not, Rodney would bet that they don’t have much longer until it does. “Rodney,” Teyla says, pulling Rodney from his thoughts. “What do we need to do?” We? “He needs his appendix removed!” Rodney says and if he sounds a little distressed by that little fact, he thinks he’s probably a little entitled. “We need Carson, we have to—.” “Rodney, I need you to focus,” Teyla says again. “John needs you to focus.” He can tell she’s just as worried as he is, can see it in her eyes but damn if she doesn’t hide it well. “We cannot get to the Stargate until morning. Can this wait until then?” “No! No, this definitely cannot wait until morning! He needs surgery, and, and, and—” “Then tell us what you need us to do so that we might begin.” What? What? “What do you--.” “Doctor Frenlen is uncertain of this ailment, but it seems that you are. As you said, we need to move quickly and--.” “I don’t… I don’t know if I’m exactly okay with this,” Sheppard manages and as Teyla’s hand moves to his overly warm forehead, Rodney feels a little insulted by that.

“What do you mean, you’re not okay with this!” He says, despite the fact that he’snot okay with this. Now, it’s just a matter of pride, honestly. “I mean you’re a scientist, Rodney. Not a… fuck. Not a doctor.” “John,” Teyla says gently and when the Colonel glances up to meet her eyes, her face softens just a bit. “We may not have a choice. You are very sick, according to Doctor McKay, and we have no access to the Stargate for several more hours. This is our only option.” “Are we really doing this?” Ronon asks, and Rodney and Teyla respond at the same time. “No!” “Yes!” But Rodney can’t do this. He’s no longer offended because he knows John’s right. He’s not a medical doctor, he has no idea what he’s doing and, and, and. “I’ll do it then,” Ronon growls. “Oh, great idea!” Rodney snaps again because that’s exactly what Sheppard needs; Chewbacca poking around in his guts, more than likely causing more damage. “The kastat root,” Doctor Frenlen supplies unhelpfully and Rodney wonders if the entire galaxy has gone mad in this moment. “Shut up!” And the doctor steps back, mouth snapped closed, and Rodney’s just about to tell them all that they have no choice but to wait, when John pitches over the side of bed, vomiting violently, and when an actual sobescapes him, Rodney realizes that he is so, so screwed. “I need… I need something to knock him out,” he says in a voice that doesn’t sound quite like his own. “The kas—” “If you say kastat root one more time--…” “Rodney!” Teyla admonishes and excuse him if he’s a little stressed right now. He’s allowed to be, considering he’s about to cut someone open. “The kastat root,” Doctor Frenlen says, “has several medicinal properties. We use it on Plesia to numb the pain from certain injuries.” Oh. Well. How was Rodney supposed to know that? “It’ll knock him out, right?” There’s a look of confusion on the doctor’s face, and when they get back to Atlantis, Rodney is so deleting this gate address from the database. NEVER AGAIN. “What Doctor McKay is asking,” Teyla interjects, “is if your kastat root will render the Colonel unconscious.” “Oh no,” Frenlen responds. “Not at all. But it should help with the pain.” Sheppard must sense just how entirely screwed he is but he seems resigned to his fate. “Do it,” he manages. “I don’t think you understand just what you’re asking me to do!” And if Rodney is shrieking just a little, they’ll just have to deal with it. “I can’t just—” “Rodney,” John says again, voice catching in his throat. “I trust you.” “The root, Doctor Frenlen,” Teyla says urgently and the doctor moves to dig through his bag, producing the smallest vial of anything Rodney has ever seen. Before he can protest any further, Teyla pops the cork and with one gentle hand cupping John’s chin, she urges him to open his mouth to drink. He does, and once she’s satisfied, she glances up at Ronon. “Hold him down,” she says quietly. “ I need--. I need a knife,” Rodney manages in a voice that does not sound like his own, and of course Frenlen is no further help but there’s Ronon, pulling a dagger from his boot and Rodney blanches. This is so not sanitary. He uses the procured dagger to slice away John’s shirt and Rodney can see the slight distension of his stomach. He can only pray that it hasn’t yet ruptured because he has nothing to clean the infection and between that and using a dagger from Ronon’s boot, Rodney is certain that John will not survive that. But as certain as he is of that, he’s also certain that if they do nothing, there’s still a good chance that John won’t survive and, and, and--. “You’re gonna… you’re gonna have to hold him extremely well,” Rodney says to Ronon, eyes wild, face coated in a sheen of sweat and when did it get so hot in here? “If he moves even the slightest—” “I’ve got him,” Ronon assures him and Teyla does too, having moved down to Colonel’s legs to hold them in place so that he would not kick. Rodney chances a glance down at John’s face and the other man gives him a barely there

nod before he swallows hard as Rodney brings the knife down, pressing it against him… --- The sound of John’s screams will haunt Rodney for the rest of his life. He’s under no delusions about that. He’d once thought that nothing would ever compare to watching John be fed on by Koyla’s wraith, but hearing those screams, knowing he’d been the one to cause it… The acid rain has stopped.

Teyla had left some time ago to run to the gate. Frenlen had finally proved more useful when he’d produced more of those little vials of kastat root. Rodney had taken them moment he’d dropped the dagger, John’s thankfully in tact appendix on the floor at his feet, and forced them down the Colonel’s throat. He figured if the asshole overdosed from some off-world root, then that was on him because they should’ve never asked Rodney--… He should have never… They shouldn’t… He doesn’t get a chance to complete another thought before the door to the room opens and in spills Carson with a skeleton med crew, ushering Rodney out of the way. And honestly, Rodney’s doing okay, he’s holding it together until someone steps on the appendix and all of a sudden all bets are off. He gags, but before he has a chance to upend all the contents of his stomach, Ronon is hauling him off, barely managing to get him outside before Rodney loses it. The noises that escape him as he pukes up everything he’s eaten for what feels like the last three weeks should be embarrassing. The entire situation shouldbe embarrassing but Rodney doesn’t care. There’s vomit and snot and tears (oh, where did they come from?) when he finally gags one last time, spitting out a mouth full of bile, and he didn’t even realize he was no longer alone until he feels a heavy hand drop onto his shoulder. “You did good,” Ronon says gruffly, like maybe Rodney’s not the only one affected by what they did. After all, Ronon was the one who’d been helping to hold him down once Rodney had started cutting, even as John screamed and begged for them to stop. Rodney says nothing until the medical team comes out, carrying John on a gurney will Teyla following close behind. She pauses, briefly, and reaches for Rodney’s hand, squeezing ever so gently, but Rodney waits until she’s far enough away before he glances up at Ronon. “We are never coming back to the this backwards fucking…” He doesn’t even have to finish before Ronon is nodding and squeezing his shoulder. “Come on,” the Satedan says. “Let’s go home.” -- By the time they make it back to Atlantis, it seems that the entire base is waiting for them. Rodney doesn’t even get an opportunity to say anything to Carson or the still unconscious Sheppard before he’s being pulled away by Elizabeth for a SITREP and she barely gets out the standard Weir what the hell happened before Rodney is puking again. Great.

Part 2

#fandom: sga #stargate atlantis #sga #sga fic #hurt!john sheppard #john sheppard whump #hurt/comfort #john sheppard #rodney mckay #teyla emmagan #ronon dex #teamfic

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scriptaed · 4 years ago

Text

bygones of the sun. 06 (m)

genre: angst/fluff/smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

pairing: reader x hoseok;

length: 6.7k;

synopsis: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

“You’re going out on another date with him tonight?!”

Junghwa’s louder than necessary exasperation renders you speechless. You shoot her a death glare, jaw slacking open to mirror her own gaping mouth; while she gapes at you for your recent absence from your weekly movie nights only to reappear with news of the boy you had been bad-mouthing just a few weeks ago, you glare at her in utter shock over her plans to announce your relations with the infamous player, Jung Hoseok, to the entire class―half of whom you don’t even know. In a panic to cover her tendency to spill even more, both you and Hani turn to hush her while the rest of the class remains unusually―albeit not surprisingly, for nearly everyone is on the brink of failing―fixated on your professor.

“How much louder can you yell?” you hiss, ignoring the pout adorning her lips as she reclines into her seat. “Are you trying to get us kicked out of class?”

“No…” she mumbles and crosses her arms. “But I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about all… this. You and Hoseok, I mean.”

The truth in Junghwa’s remark strikes you to your core. She’s right. It’s been two weeks since you had last spent your Friday nights with your two best friends. After Hoseok had barged into your house to nurse you back to health, your cold had quickly dissipated and that only encouraged Hoseok to take you out even more often to share his favorite pastimes, consequently taking time away from your friends. And you should’ve told them about your recent meetups with Hoseok and why you had to skip out on several movie nights with them for the sake of preventing your friend or pretend boyfriend―you aren’t even sure what to call him―from confronting your friends when he intrudes your house without prior warning, but you knew the day those two opposing worlds clash is the day all hell sets loose.

You wouldn’t even know what to do with Hoseok if your friends were to disapprove of him; it’s not that you don’t want to distance yourself from him, but the more you consider the benefits of your bet, the more you try to convince yourself to take this one last chance to move on from your unresolved crush on the ex-dance captain… or at least that’s what you tell yourself, because the more days that pass by, the fonder you become of the current Hoseok. It’s not that you like him—no, it can’t be that, but there’s something about him that pulls you in, that intrigues you, especially now that you suspect him of remembering exactly who you are.

And while you treasure your friendship over whatever your relations with Hoseok are, you loathe the idea of choosing one over the other.

Hani notices the fallen expression of yours as you slump into your chair in deep thought before interjecting herself, “Junghwa… I’m sure Y/N has a reason for not telling us earlier. Plus, we’re still holding our usual movie nights―just on Thursdays. She hasn’t forgotten about us, right Y/N?”

“Huh,” you utter in response, brows raising at Hani’s watchful gaze, “oh, yeah, for sure. I’d never just toss you guys away like that. I just… I need a few more weeks to figure this all out.”

Figure out whether her remembers exactly who you are in the first place.

“Okay, fine. But what exactly are you figuring out?” Junghwa inquires, leaning in with her head propped in her cupped hands. “I just don’t get it. You despise Hoseok, don't you? You were just complaining to us about how much he's changed! So why are you still hanging out with him? Are you guys even dating?”

Your eyes stay glued to your lap where your hands fidget with the hem of your―or rather, his―sweater, her question echoing your very own which stirs you awake at night. “...no.”

“Usually I’d advise you to ignore Junghwa, but she actually makes a good point,” Hani glances between the two of you and tilts her head in confusion. “You don’t actually like him, do you? Or at least... not who he is now?”

“No, I don’t,” you don’t hesitate to say, eyes glued to your fiddling thumbs when you recall how someone so sweet and dedicated could become the cocky player you know now. It irritates you how quickly and profusely Hoseok would shun his previous reputation as the dance captain, but the one thing that irks you even more is how he had suggested the bet so eagerly―as if he was confident you’d twirl right into the palm of his hands like countless girls had done before. “I’m not that naive.”

“Okay, good,” Junghwa huffs, slumping into her chair and mumbling, “I don’t want to beat up any more boys unless I have to.”

You snort, “you don’t have to beat up any boy.”

“No,” she blurts, bolting to sit upright, “I have to if they hurt my best friend.”

“Aw, I guess our Junghwa really can be sweet sometimes,” you sarcastically quip, eliciting a scoff from Junghwa and a giggle from Hani. Hearing your friends’ abundant support always assured you in times when you doubted yourself, and it warms your heart to know if you really did end up broken hearted by this eerily charming bad boy―something which you tell yourself otherwise every night recently―your friends would still be one step behind to catch you when you fall. Amidst your conversation, every student in the class begins shuffling papers and shoving binders into their bags not even a split second after the professor’s dismissal. Following with the crowd, you begin packing with a reassured smile adorning your lips, “alright, thank you then. I’ll try to keep your warning in mind.”

Slinging your backpack over your shoulders, you grab your cup of coffee for the evening and wave the pouting, puppy-eyed Junghwa goodbye, snickering at her overly concerned expression when Hani calls out to you, “be careful! Don’t blindly believe everything he says!”

“Alright, alright,” you laugh at Hani’s remark, slowly backing away from the cinched brows and frowns plastered all over your friends’ faces.

“You really don’t have to do this. There are plenty of boys out there, Y/N! Just call me and I’ll hook you up in no time, mm?” Hani desperately consoles you last minute.

“You sound like I’m heading off to war or something. And I’m not doing this because I’m a desperate woman,” you snort, scoffing until you wrap your head around the true reason why you’re so allured by this bet of yours with Hoseok. Why are you so entitled to winning this bet? Because you believe in yourself? Because you truly believe there’s no possible way for you to fall for the changed boy you had once been smitten, and consequently crestfallen, over? Why are you so enticed by this bet? Seeing how your two friends raise a brow at you, patiently waiting for the second half of your sentence, or at least an explanation as to why you’re doing this in the first place, you part your lips and utter much softer than you expected, “...I’m doing it because I want to tie up loose ends and finally get over him.”

Junghwa and Hani glance at each other, lips down-turned when they silently decipher whatever you had just uttered before the latter looks up to give you a nod and a warm smile, “alright, just don’t confuse your feelings for the past him with the current him.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, “psh, feelings for him? I didn’t even like him that much. I just said he was really cute and sweet… that’s all―”

―you pause when you notice Hani and Junghwa’s deadpanned expressions, brows raised and eyes completely wary of your lies.

“Okay, maybe I did,” you mumble, clutching onto your cup as you avert your head to the empty side of the classroom. “But… I’m over that… or at least almost over that. It’s been a year now. I’m not stupid enough to be all hung up over some guy in my past. He’s changed, and so have I. I just need some closure, that’s it―”

―your phone interjects you with a buzz from the back pocket of your jeans.

Your friends snort at what they claim to be your never ending excuses―something that you have been apparently spewing since they had discovered your crush on the dance captain last year. Biting down on your lips to stop you from defending yourself from such accusations, and thus, furthermore proving their argument, you reach into your pocket to take a quick glimpse at your brightly lit phone screen.

Speak of the devil; just seeing his name on your phone screen renders the skip of your heart.

Hoseok, my beloved [7:35 PM] You haven’t forgotten about our date tonight, have you?

Hoseok, my beloved [7:36 PM] Knowing you, you probably have. Doesn’t matter. I’ll be over in fifteen.

Hoseok, my beloved. Scoffing, you can’t help but roll your eyes at how quickly he had sneakily changed his contact name on your phone the night he had brought you porridge and discovered said atrocity; and despite the twitch in your hands that itched to playfully, albeit purposely, smack him in the arm like you had gotten used to in the past week, anyone would be a fool not to notice the smile creeping its way onto your lips while butterflies fluttered in your stomach. It’s been awhile since you had felt like this―a year, in that very dance studio, to be precise.

“What what what?” Hani blurts out, her worries overflowing as they tumble from her lips. “Who is it? Is it that damn player again?”

“Alright, I have to go,” you chuckle, whirling around to skip towards the classroom door, “I’ll see you later!”

“Hey!” Junghwa yells after you. “Remember, don’t fall for him or you’re losing the bet and you’ll never find out why he quit!”

Laughing to yourself and figuring the main intent behind Junghwa’s remark is linked with her wariness regarding Hoseok, you wave your hands without a glance back over your shoulders.

“I won’t fall for him, don’t worry,” you chortle before muttering to yourself and shaking your head, “...at least not for who he is now.”

Usually, you’d let bygones be bygones, but when you’re dealing with boys like him, boys like Jung Hoseok, you know even the smallest of details can end up in the worst heartbreaks possible. This is the boy whom had supposedly used you for his own advances on his unreciprocated crush on Keiko. This isn’t the boy you had once fallen for. You just have to remind yourself of that every so often, and you won’t have to worry over falling for that deceiving, albeit nearly identical, mask of his bygones.

In fifteen, he said.

Rolling onto your right side, you pull the collar of his hoodie over your lips as you lie in bed and pull out your phone.

8:15 PM―he’s nearly half an hour late; he's the one intruding your private time and inviting himself over to your house more than once, and he dares to make you wait this long? And why does each passing second elicit such an impatient groan from you, each tick of the clock tugging at your heart, when you supposedly don't even want him here? So why are you still wrapped up in your blankets, face buried and body enveloped in his sweater, and consciously waiting for him to march through your front door like he always does?

A buzz comes rippling through the bed, your head pressed against the vibrating mattress, and you nearly fall to the ground when you scramble to your side to grab your phone, expecting a certain someone's name only to be disappointed once again.

Jung Hoseok just posted a photo for the first time in a while.

jung_hoesuck: night vibes.

Your jaw drops when the notification pops onto your screen only to slack open even wider when your thumb instinctively taps the appalling update; and surely, there he is, dressed up in skinny black jeans, belt half done, white muscle top peeking underneath a black bomber, and what appears to be a lighter colored snapback and sneakers underneath the black and white filter. A scoff leaves your lips as your hands grip your phone tighter than ever and your eyes nearly bore into the screen itself for staring at the photo with such intensity.

First, he invites himself over to your house without any reasonable prior notice, and now, he’s taking his time to update his social media when you rushed over here, delayed your night out with the girls, and waited for his more than late arrival. But as much as you’d like to slander Hoseok and his update appearance on his long abandoned social media, you can’t help but find the signature smug look of his half smirk as he bites his bottom lip, glimpsing dimly into his phone screen which captures him in the mirror from head to toe, more than enticing. You mentally slap yourself and begin mumbling words of disatisfaction when you catch yourself checking him out through the post he had leisurely taken at the expense of his delayed arrival and your bated breath.

God, the boy may have mouth-watering looks and fawn worthy charms, but your dedication to remind yourself of the truth remains unwavered. You repeatedly remind yourself: that’s all he has going for him. While the past him was humble, admirable, and charming in his own ways as the sweetheart of the school, the pull of your heartstrings between now and then differs. You don’t feel the least bit attracted to Hoseok, you tell yourself, and even if you do, it’s all based upon lust and a desire to find the boy from within.

Sooner or later, you find yourself scrolling through his page. It wasn’t until tonight’s notification―which you’re more than relieved popped up before Hoseok arrives, if he arrives, that is―that you recall having followed his public account back a year ago when you felt obliged to check in every once or so often to keep your promise to yourself and admire the dance captain from afar, afraid to dive in head first with the mess of your insecurities regarding the all so perfect Keiko.

But ever since then, you’ve forgotten how drastically he’s changed, all which is reflected his scroll of pictures. While most of his current theme retains a sense of mystery, black and dark with descriptions as vague and brief as possible, his past page would be filled with pictures of the dance studio, worn out sneakers, new and sheepish members whom you’re sure was only there for the boy standing in between the two, and lengthy paragraphs to express his thanks for those who supported him in the most recent dance showcase. But now, all of that has changed. You find yourself staring at the end of his page, crestfallen as your stomach drops when you notice he had deleted every single picture since his days in the club―no behind the scenes, no smiles, no gym bag, no nothing. Everything had changed including his atrocious username, and even if you wanted to revisit the old days as an escape from the current troublemaker, you can’t. And the very fact that the boy you’re in search for is completely wiped off seemingly the entire school’s minds and shunned by the own beholder scares you.

Are you the only one who remembers?

And now that you’re on this topic, how are you going to convince him to attend dance camp? Should you ask him about what he had said that one night? Does he still recall who you are from back in the studio at night, a night you thought was special enough to remain unforgotten for the both of you? What about his relations to Keiko now? And then? Are you really just a pawn, a strategy for him to obtain his true desires for Keiko? With all these questions in mind, there really is no doubt you must consistently remind yourself to be wary of such a boy clouded by unknown motives and not wear your heart on your sleeve like you did for the past him―

“Y/N, baby, are you home?”

Your eyes snap wide open when you hear the familiar voice of Hoseok’s singing in the distance. Great, now you’re even hallucinating about him… or so you think. Because when the shuffles of his footsteps thumps closer and closer to your bedroom, a strife of panic strikes you to pull the bed sheets over your head and your unmade hair thrown messily into a bun. It’s not that you’re afraid to show him you in your natural state, rather, it’s the sweater―his sweater―that you’re wearing which you had totally forgotten about; just imagining the smug look on his face when he sees you wrapped up in his clothes in bed is enough to coerce you into locking yourself away from society for the rest of eternity.

The door squeaks open and you can hear him snort. You can’t quite see him, but you can hear him clearly. His soft, yet slightly heavier breathing than most, his siffling clothes as he adjusts his weight from one leg to the other, and his mere presence enough to send your heart racing and your cheeks burning.

“We’re not playing this game again, are we?” he laughs. “Mind telling me why you’re all buried underneath blankets again?”

“Well, mind telling me why you’re nearly an hour late?” you retort, popping your head out just enough to meet his concerned yet baffled grin. Scanning him up and down, you find him decked out in a gray beanie, baggy white tee, and slim fitting gray sweatpants―completely different outfit than what you were just goggling at earlier. “So you even took the time to change out of your outfit before coming here.”

“What?” he quirks a brow before sudden realization flickers through his eyes. “Ohh, you saw my post? You were so worried that you even checked my page? Aw, babe, if you missed me that much, you should’ve just texted me!”

Your jaw slacks open in disbelief as you scoff, “I did not miss you. In fact, I was even hoping you would bail me tonight.”

“Then why’d you check my IG?”

“I didn’t. I got a notification you updated.”

He smirks, one brow raising as he buries his hands into his pockets, “oh, so you follow me?”

A breath gets caught in your knotted throat. Damn, he really is perceptive.

“...fuck off,” you mumble, plopping your head back into the blankets. “I can’t believe you left me waiting here for an hour. It would’ve been better if you just didn’t show up at all.”

“Oh c’mon, babe,” Hoseok coos. “I’m sorry for being late, but I was busy getting something.”

He takes a step forward, and the beat of your heart hammers once against your chest before you roll farther away until you’re wrapped in your blankets like a burrito on the other side of your bed.

Ignoring his soft chuckle, you take a deep breath in a vain attempt to slow down your pulse. “Yeah? What were you busy getting?”

“Wow, do you really not trust me?” he chortles, sighing before rustling what sounds like a plastic bag. “I was out buying you some heat pads, but I didn’t realize how long it would take. Your hands are always cold and you’re always shivering when we go out, so I figured I’d be a good, dutiful boyfriend and care for my ungrateful wifey.”

Damn, he’s a smooth talker too. But can you really trust him? After everything he’s said and done? After knowing there’s a high possibility he had only asked you out for the sake of invoking jealousy upon Keiko’s half?

“...I don’t believe you,” you mumble, heart nearly stopping and lungs failing to expand when you hear Hoseok climbing onto your bed and you feel his knees sinking into the mattress along with you. You’re just barely able to squeak, “...then how’d you take that photo?”

“If it helps, I took that photo weeks ago. You can even check on my phone,” he chortles, continuing when you fail to respond. “I hadn’t updated in awhile. My follower count was falling, and I wasn’t getting as many DMs as usual.”

You scoff in disbelief, “actually, that doesn’t help. I could’ve gone without that last part.”

“Ooh, my girl’s a jealous one. I can delete it if you want,” he suggests, light-heartedly laughing when you roll farther into the bed. “Hey, I’m the one who keeps reaching out to you. You’re the one who rejects my offers.”

“No, I’m not jealous. And I’ve never rejected any of your offers.”

“Really? So can I stay the night?”

“No.”

“See,” he chuckles. “Now, let’s get my baby out of those blankets before she suffocates to death, alright?”

“Just wait in the living room and I’ll be out in a minute,” you clutch a fistful of his sweater, your chest nearly exploding any second now.

“No… I don’t think so. It’s pretty easy to spot liars, Y/N, and quite obviously, you’re hiding something from me,” he sing-songs. Bulls-eye. He practically knows you like the back of his hand. He places a hand on your waist and your eyes widens… in shock? Excitement? Annoyance? You’re not quite sure, but there’s no way of denying the fluttering butterflies in your stomach. “C’mon, what is it? Are you naked under there or something? Did I walk in on a private session?”

“W-What?” you nearly yell at his implications.

“Hm, guess not then,” he hums, and the tension within silence ensues for a few seconds before he quips, “but I am interested in what’s underneath this.”

And without another second to waste, he begins unrolling you from the depths of your blanket. Everything happens in a blur, and the next thing you know you’re staring up at Hoseok with wide, doe-like eyes. And he stares back at you. Hair just barely sweeping his forehead as he peers down at you from above, hands beside either side of your head, sun-kissed skin and tips of his brown hair glowing in the light hanging from the ceiling like an eclipse dawning upon you before your very eyes. The smug smirk adorning his lips only worsens the skip of your heart.

His warm hands wrap around what he had correctly predicted to be your cold hands, pulling you up onto the ground as you stumble forward into his equally snug chest.

“Hm… not exactly what I had hoped, but I guess seeing you in my sweater again isn’t too bad at all,” he lowly observes. With your eyes shut tight and your head on his chest, the thumping of his heart making itself known on your forehead, you push him away before storming out of the room. “What? Is it my scent? Do you really like the sweater? Or do you just really miss me when I’m gone?”

“None!” you exasperate, marching into your kitchen. “I already washed the sweater.”

And you don’t know if it’s just you and your wild imaginations, however, his scent still manages to remain latched onto the sweater akin to how the memories of that night remains etched into the back of your mind… you just chose to leave that part out.

“Then do you want my t-shirt this time?” he cackles, following closely behind.

“No! We’re not going over this again!” you’re baffled by his constant remarks, confused as to whether they’re his attempts at flirting or his desire to tease you. Whirling around, he nearly bumps right into you when you stop in the midst of your tracks. He raises a brow at your sudden change of pace. “So where do you want to go tonight?”

“We’re going out tonight?” he questions.

“I mean, don’t we always? You always drag me out for your wild shenanigans,” you retort, knitting your brows when you see the quizzical look on his face. Glancing yourself up and down, you suddenly feel more self conscious than ever―something you only experience around him lately, not necessarily in the bad way, but in a way which you wish you could impress him when you’re competing against all those girls fawning over the bad boy around school. “What? Do I look like a mess?”

“No,” he quickly denies. “I was only worried about my presentation. You look fine. Great, even.”

“You?” you snort. “Doesn’t matter even if you just got out of bed, girls would still faint in your path.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, looking away to walk past you and grab some pots from your cabinet―knowing your house inside and out after countless visits. “But they aren’t used to seeing me like this. They only like seeing me dressed up and poised like how my reputation goes.”

Frowning, you cross your arms, “...and is that the real you? Which boy are you really? The one standing before me now or the one notorious bad boy in school?”

Hoseok fills the pot halfway before placing it on the stove and turning his head to peer down at you. A good ten seconds of silence passes prior to his calculated response.

“The former.”

The… former? Such a particular yet general term that you even find yourself questioning the clarity of his answer. When he says former, does he mean the former persona you had crushed on or does he mean―

“―who you see right now, that’s who I really am,” he says, examining your state of confusion before turning back to grab two packs of ramen out from his plastic bag. “Do you like who I am right now?”

“Huh?”

“Do you like who I really am?” he questions without looking up at you.

Something tells you to answer carefully, as if this question weighs more than it appears upfront. But your stubbornness to see the old Hoseok, the crush you have yet to let go, overshadows your reluctance when the words slip from your lips, “...no.”

“I shouldn’t have expected anything less,” he says softly, chuckling.

“Hey, Hoseok…” you subconsciously call out for him, his dark eyes lifting to gaze into yours. “Do you remember me from somewhere else?”

He simply quirks a brow. It’s now or never, even if you’re risking your dignity to fulfill your curiosity. You have to know what you mean, or rather, meant to him.

“I mean, a while ago you mentioned something about me looking familiar―”

“―I don’t quite recall that,” he chortles. Without giving you a chance to follow up, he turns and leans against the kitchen counter with his signature smirk, “now, let me cook up some mean, authentic, gourmet ramen for us tonight.”

It’s quite odd how relieved you are when he switches the topic. Do you question his validity of his answer? A part of you tells you there’s something off about him tonight, but you don’t dare question it. You’d rather blindly believe in him than hurt yourself further by indulging in the irreplaceable past akin to the dimming light at the end of the tunnel. Sighing and rolling your eyes, you cross your arms and shrug, “alright, Chef Jung. Do show me how much better you can cook every college student’s basic dish.”

He turns his head and frowns at you before tossing the bags at your head, toppling them to the floor as you stand there bewildered. “I was just joking,” he scoffs. “You think I, Chef Jung, would cook you some lame dish anyone can make? I only bought these because I saw you were running low on food.”

“How’d… you know…?” you barely manage to say.

“I come here every few days, how would I not know?” he chuckles, grabbing some more groceries from his bag. “I’d cook you something healthy every day if I could, but I think you’d start getting annoyed by me. At least eat something when I’m gone, even if it’s junk.”

“You know how to cook…?”

“Yeah,” he briefly answers.

Cocking your head, you decide to investigate further, “how?”

“Back then, I had to cook myself meals for dance practice every day,” he equivocates. You can’t tell if he’s reminiscing out of force or out of bittersweet nostalgia. He glimpses at you through the corner of his eyes, “hey, can you grab me an egg or two? I think I saw a few left in your fridge.”

“Hm? Yeah,” you mumble, turning around to walk towards the fridge.

There most definitely is something off about him tonight. You’ve only really known him for a month, but that’s longer than you’ve ever known the ex dance captain and that’s enough for you to know that something is up. Is tonight the right time to ask? While your remaining questions regarding his relations to Keiko are questions you intend to ask when you’re fully prepared for its repercussions, there really is no time left until boot camp begins next week. As much as you’re irked by the three musketeers and their persistence to bring their dance captain back, you did indeed make a promise.

“Hey, Hoseok…”

“Yeah?”

You take a deep breath and sigh, “are you really not going to attend the boot camp?”

He pauses in the midst of preparing the ingredients sprawled across the tabletop. “Is there a certain reason why you want me to?”

“I just…” you gulp. If you really want to convince him against his own will, then you should at the very least be truthful. “I just want to see you dance again.”

Damn it, Y/N, stop wearing your heart on your sleeve. It’s too dangerous around boys like him.

“Well,” he carefully contemplates, “are you going?”

Looking up and turning your back on the fridge door, you lock eyes with his peering ones―ones void of any signs of emotion other than the motive to amass more information for his advantage, something he does quite well―and shake your head, “no, I can’t dance.”

He snorts, “then how are you going to see me dance? Cause I don’t plan on dancing again after camp.”

“I’ll go if you go.”

“And what do I get from this?” Hoseok bargains with his usual give-and-take virtues.

“Fine, then let’s just end this bet now,” you say out of frustration.

You don’t mean it, but the words slip before you’re able to retrieve them once again. Maybe this is for the better anyways. Based on this conversation and the last few night’s with him alone, only someone dense would deny the fact that you’re teetering between the edge of a cliff and sanity. If you delve in any further, you know you’d fall in too deep. The only reason you started this bet in the first place is to obtain closure and move on from the past, and yet before you knew it, you find yourself already treading in dangerous waters.

But the boy only raises a brow.

“You said we don’t need any time constraints to our bet, right?” you state, breath shaking and lips quivering. He cocks his head and knits his brows in concentration as you continue, “well, if you’re not going to attend the camp, then I’d like to end the bet here.”

“And how is that fair?” he deadpans―no sort of emotion detected in the rasp of his voice.

“Nothing’s fair, Hoseok. Some things just don’t make sense,” you say, recalling the irrational behavior of your panicking pulse and your wrenching chest at this very moment. “I don’t like you right now, so I guess that means I win the bet. So why did you quit―”

“―but you’re not considering my side of the bet. How do you know how I feel for you?” he firmly states.

And your heart nearly stops.

“W-What?” you stammer, eyes widening and blood running cold. “It doesn’t matter, because either way―”

“―yes, either way I have to tell you, but judging by the look on your face right now,” he smirks, “what you said before doesn’t hold the whole truth. So no, we can’t end the bet here unless it’s clear how we feel for each other.”

You scoff, “I do not like you. I’m telling the complete truth.”

Had you ticked him off? Or did he tick you off? The fiery within you grows each second he proves you wrong, because even you can’t deny the validity of his remark. You hate yourself for dancing right into the palm of his hands. But as long as you acknowledge it, you can always alter your course. You won’t fall for him just yet… or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Right, grab me the eggs, will you?” he says before turning around to gather his ingredients once more.

Mumbling to yourself in frustration, you open the fridge and glance through the brightly lit storage. Scanning through the shelves, you find nearly everything empty―just as he had claimed―and your feet begin to freeze as the rush of cold air brushes against your bare legs. Without turning around, you call out to him, “I don’t think I see any eggs―”

―your words halt when a pair of warm hands place themselves on your waist.

Air gets caught in your knotted throat, and you swear your heart nearly leaps out from within, especially when you feel the warmth of his chest radiating against your back.

“You said you couldn’t dance, right?” he whispers, his lips grazing your heated earlobes. “I highly doubt that. You just don’t want to go with Jimin and them. You don’t want to go with anyone but me, do you?”

“That’s stupid…” you’re barely able to say under your breath.

“Alright, prove it to me then,” he then whirls you around until your eyes are met with his own mischievous ones.

Wrapping one arm around your waist, he pulls your hips right against his and closes the distance between the two of you, while the other hand entangles with your right―tight and snug like two missing puzzle pieces. He then sways you side to side, humming to the beat of an old yet romantically classic tune.

Burying your head into his chest, you can feel his heart pacing in syncopation with yours. But it doesn’t resonate of the same panic, the same thrill, the same fear as yours. It’s calm and poetic and indecipherable, like a perfect mix between the old dance captain and the new mysterious boy of this demeanor they call Jung Hoseok.

Your cheeks burn bright red. You can’t feel anything other than your trembling hands he holds tightly onto, your knees go weak and threaten to buckle right underneath, and your eyes can’t see anything other than his white tee, his sweatpants, and the two pairs of feet rocking underneath.

“Can you stop hum―”

―but then he takes a step back, holds your hand high above your head, and twirls you.

Your feet scramble to catch up, your mind spins, your vision blurs, and the whole world turns upside down. Suddenly, you feel the warmth of his arm wrapped firmly on the small of your back until all you can see is his face hovering dangerously over yours.

“See? You can dance,” he says, a corner of his lips lifting into a lopsided grin. Pulling you back upright, you hold his hands for a few more seconds to stabilize yourself to the new center of gravity. You’re just about to scold him for his antics when he interjects, “fine, I’ll lead dance camp, but only under one condition.”

Glancing up from the ground, you find him staring right back at you. “What is it?”

“I’ll go... if you kiss me,” he smirks.

“Are you kidding me?” you gape. “First you nearly drop me when I said I can’t dance, and now you’re telling me to kiss you?”

“Just one,” he offers.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook’s pleas echo in the back of your mind as you glare at Hoseok, eyes subconsciously trailing to his smooth, tempting lips before flickering back to the glimmer in his dark chocolate orbs.

“...fine,” you mutter, kissing your two fingers―index and middle―and smacking it onto his own lips.

“Really? Is this how virgins kiss or something?” he states in lack of enthusiasm, removing your fingers from his lips. He then takes a step towards you, thus forcing you to take one back. “Do you really want me to show you how it’s done, Y/N?”

Another step forward, another step back.

Before you know it, your back hits the kitchen counter. Hoseok gently places both hands on either side of you, trapping you between him and the counter and leaving you with nowhere to escape to. He leans in, his mint scented breath tickling your skin as his nose brushes your tip and his lips just barely graze against your own. And through it all, you know he’s watching you through those lidded, intent eyes of his. If you really want him to attend dance camp, then maybe you should give in. Maybe this isn’t too bad anyways. It’s just one kiss. It’s not exactly like you don’t want it after all.

So you close your eyes.

And the second the boy before your eyes turns from the sun, the moon, and the mystical eclipse, and all you can see is black, the warmth on every inch of your body dissipates into the thin air.

“You see, Y/N, there really are only two tips I can give you in regards to kissing,” Hoseok says, his voice more distant than expected. Peeping one eye open, your heart drops when you find him standing back upright instead of towering over you. What is this feeling of disappointment? Shouldn’t you be glad? “One, you have to have consent. A kiss isn’t fun if it’s forced.”

“And…?” you utter, heart pounding so fast you think you might faint any minute now.

“And I can check that off my list,” he remarks, a smug smile tugging on one corner of his lips as he takes one step back and turns his back on you.

Was he talking about how you closed your eyes?

Your hands grip on the counter behind you when your knees nearly collapse onto the floor. Your cheeks blaze a flush of bright red, sheer embarrassment plastered on your face. Knitting your brows, you―or rather, your body―decides you need more. No, you want more.

“And second…?”

“Second,” he pauses, each tick of the clock agonizingly slow, “is the element of surprise.”

Then he turns on his heels. His hand cups your left cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, and his other rests on the nape of your neck. His lips hover an inch over yours, waiting for your eyes to flutter close―which they do―before smirking once again and crashing his lips into yours.

He’s warm, plush, and most certainly an experienced kisser. He pushes with just the right pressure, he tells you he wants more and yet he’s willing to play hard for it through gestures absent of words, and his caressing hands and the stroke of his thumb across your cheek signify his gentle and caring way to handle his girl. No, he doesn’t need to stick his tongue down your throat or groan like man in desperate need to tame his hormones. No, all he needs is the simple touch of his tender lips and soft hands to melt you into a puddle of emotions.

Placing his hands on your hips, he lifts you onto the kitchen counter until your back and head presses up against the wall and the both of you are so out of breath that you’re coerced into parting from his tempting lips.

The both of you struggle to breathe, chests heaving and lungs gasping for air when he removes his beanie and puts it snugly over your head―something you would’ve rebelled against if it weren’t for how dazed and breath taken you were by what had just taken place before you. Running a hand through his freed, bronze hair, he peers down and grins at you from above.

“Now that’s what I call a kiss,” Hoseok chuckles. “Alright, deal. I’ll go.”

Shit, what was the deal again?

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