#you know how y'all be reading fics and the POV is going on and on about how hot the LI is and ur just like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

manicpixiefelix · 5 months

Text

love the hand that feeds you {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

One-Shot for head, heart, hand. but can be read as a stand-alone.

Summary: Everyone's always called you Felix's Dog. Felix has always had a problem with this. You've always wished that he didn't. Oliver's never been much of a cat person anyways.

Need to Know: They/Them. NB!Reader. Oliver's POV. Set after the Summer at Saltburn but with a happy, poly ending. Established Felix/Reader/Oliver. Reader's AGAB/sex is never made explicitly clear so hopefully all of y'all can enjoy.

Warnings: SMUT. Porn with plot. Pet play, obviously. Demeaning language (dog is the main one, obviously), oral, threesome, unprotected sex, d/s dynamics (all three of you go back and forth but there's mostly Dominant!Oliver), teasing, praise kink (and praise kink by proxy), pet names (ha). Felix & Reader being horny puppies who love Oliver Quick (and each other) very much.

A/N: 9494 words. i told my girlfriend about this fic and how long it is and she said 'at that point is it a oneshot or a cry for help' and idk man it's definitely a cry for something 👀

----

It starts because Felix likes having his hair played with.

Actually, it starts the week before with you, drunk and giggling at a house party, playing with the chain Oliver's always wearing with more fascination than usual, when you admit that Venetia once bought you a collar. Of course you provide the caveat that it was more to piss Felix off, which it had, and that it had been thrown into the fire before you ever got to wear it. Oliver, who'd been watching Felix playing beer pong across the room, has to take a moment to process what you'd said.

"Wish she didn't make it all weird," you sighed a little forlornly, and you give the chain a faint tug, "I'm such a good dog, everyone says so," then you huffed a faint, flustered laugh, "not everyone. Not you and Fi, you guys are lovely, but sometimes I am a bit like a dog; I'm okay with that."

In the next moment you're humming along to whatever trashy pop is playing, and Oliver's pretty sure you've already forgotten what you'd just said, but even in his own state of inebriation, he can't.

The next day, on one of the many lawns across Oxford's beautiful campus, Oliver's sitting with Felix's head in his lap, fingers running through his hair as you and Felix are brainstorming gifts for Venetia's upcoming birthday. Felix has his eyes closed, enjoying the warm afternoon and the sensation of Oliver's gentle petting, while you're splayed out on the grass beside them both, focusing on your notebook.

Yes, you've always been a good dog, but you'd been well trained; the more Oliver thinks about it, the more he finds himself also drawing comparisons between Felix and an excitable, affectionate, pampered pup himself. But there was potential there, Oliver could see it clear as day.

So he'd started to come up with a plan. A simple plan, thankfully; knowing you both it wouldn't require anything too complicated, it wouldn't be particularly manipulative. At least not maliciously.

A simple, two step plan to show the impossibly beautiful, rich, loving heirs how much he loved and appreciated them for all their qualities, especially the dog-like ones, in certain circumstances. Really it's not even his idea; Felix's whole family had drawn the comparison with you before it had even really occurred to him. He couldn't be blamed for being intrigued about following it to its logical end, and showing you both it's not the negative it usually comes across as. At least, that's how he phrases it in his mind when he's justifying it to himself.

And if he thinks you and Felix would both look pretty in a collar, well that's just a perk he keeps to himself.

The first step is submission.

All three of you fluctuated between dominance and submission on any given day, an enthusiastic ebb and flow of control amongst the three of you, in every combination imaginable. Except Felix seems unable to fully commit himself to submitting to Oliver alone; oh he plays along without hesitation, will get on his knees for Oliver at the slightest firm tone, but he always seems more thrilled knowing your hand is on his metaphorical leash.

So Oliver takes his time figuring out what exactly will make Felix long for Oliver's hand on his throat. The solution is shockingly simple.

Praise.

It couldn't be just any praise. He'd lived his life hearing sweet words about how good he looks, or how lovely he was, it had to be deeper than that. Praise only you or Oliver could give, praise that he craved to hear, praise for the parts of himself he quietly put effort into.

Praise for being helpful, for being diligent, for being caring and genuinely thoughtful to the two of you, for being good.

"God, you're so good to me, Felix," Oliver groans in the bathroom of a house party, back pressed against the door while Felix was on his knees, Oliver's cock in his mouth. When Oliver looks down, sees Felix with a faint blush on his cheeks that's far sweeter than the rest of the debauchery of their situation, Oliver cards a hand through his hair, giving him a look that radiated just as much love as he felt for the man himself, "always so fuckin' good to me," he murmurs this time.

Felix, now bright red, all kinds of flustered, pulls back for half a second, unable to fight back a smile as he swears under his breath, but Oliver's hand in his hair tightens. Felix eyes flutter closed as Oliver, tone on his voice like a warning, tells Felix that he didn't say stop.

And Felix seems more than delighted to obey, to be as good to Oliver as he'd just been deemed.

Praise like this always made Felix all smitten and obedient and eager to please. Of course Oliver had always been quick to praise Felix, but this was different, was concentrated and specific. Once Oliver had started with these efforts, Felix seemed to grow more relaxed and eager to let Oliver become dominant over him when the mood struck him, even without the specific praise. Though the praise always helped.

The second step is acceptance.

Considering everything that had happened at Saltburn - the voyeuristic games you'd played with Oliver, the adventurous ways and places in which you and Felix would fuck, the handjob you'd given him after you caught him drinking the bath water that Felix had gotten off into that ended with you also managing to come untouched while Oliver moaned Felix's name in your ear, just to name a few - Oliver knew your sex lives would be more than a little kinky before he even officially joined this relationship. He was not disappointed.

Both you and Felix seemed more than willing to try anything, though Oliver was delighted to discover just how much you'd both already done, and were more than eager to do again.

All this to say that pet play was barely a step removed from roleplay, so he shouldn't have been surprised that you jump at the chance. At first it stays between you and Oliver, for obvious reasons that have everything to do with Felix's hangups about the derogatory way other people had often called you a dog. But when Oliver calls you 'pretty pup' for the first time, you react just the same way Felix does when praised.

Flustered. Bashful. Obedient.

Except Oliver quickly learns that you react far stronger than Felix. It seems not only were you telling the truth about being okay with the title, simply hearing it said so lovingly by Oliver, even in the most innocent situations, was enough to turn you on. It was validation you so desperately wanted, craved, your efforts and constant place by their side acknowledged and appreciated. There are times even when you're in control where you demand praise, and the words slip out.

"You're a good dog," Oliver gasps out, your legs over his shoulders, his head between your thighs. A pleased noises rumbles from somewhere in your chest and you laugh low and heady.

"You're fucking lucky to have a dog like me, Oliver Quick," comes out all lazy and confident, but his nose of agreement isn't enough for you, clearly, as your thighs momentarily tighten around him, trapping him, and he feels one of your heels press insistently against his back, "aren't you lucky," you say pointedly, warning in your voice, "to have such a good dog?" Echoing your words in agreement, they come out sounding like a breathless prayer, one he's eager to chant to see the heady, powerful smile you wear when you hear it.

Fuck he feels dizzy with lust in this moment, desperate to devour you, have his mouth on you, like his life depends on it, hoping you'll grant him the chance to fuck you - there's something about you in control that will always drive Oliver utterly mad. Actually, no matter the situation or who's in control, knowing you and Felix continue to want him, love him, choose him to share these moments with... sometimes he still can't believe he got here in the end.

He never thought he'd hear you beg, let alone for him. It's like fucking music.

When he's got you like this, under him, desperate, eager to please, mind a messy haze caught up in this fantasy being played out with you as his perfect pup - so good, so loyal, fuck you're precious, pet - where he can do or say practically anything to you, where you want him to.

"Fuck I love how pathetic you sound, pet," he mumbled into your ear, pressed against you, thrusting slow and deep, "can't even form a proper thought, can you?" He teases. Your hips stutter up into his in an inconsistent rhythm, desperate. Chiding you for it, he sits back, even as a disappointed mewl escapes you. As if moving out of instinct, you reach out, as if to try and pull him back in, and your fingers catch on the chain he still wears around his neck.

"Drop it," he orders immediately, to which you let go as if the metal had burned you. However, Oliver can feel you clench around his cock, hips rolling, pressing close to him, instinctively, "good dog," he purred, pleased, deciding to reward you by finally fucking you with intent.

So it's not you who still has to come to accept this concept. But Oliver's fairly confident you will be the main reason when Felix does come to accept it. In fact, he doesn't even bring the concept up to Felix himself; he knows you well enough that it will only be a matter of time.

It doesn't take long.

One night at the club, all three of you drunk and feeling indulgent under the lights and haze, you hear a resentful -

"Felix really can't go anywhere without his dog -"

You have to hold Felix back from searching for the girl who said it to start shouting at her, assuring him it's fine, but Oliver then has to drag you both of the dancefloor when you start unexpectedly arguing with each other. He actually genuinely can't pick exactly what the argument is about until he's got you both in one of the marginally quieter side rooms, you and Felix still arguing animatedly -

"- shouldn't even be talking about you like that, they don't even know you -" Felix snapped, while you stepped up into his space, having him in the chest.

"When the fuck have I ever cared what anyone but you thinks of me?!"

"I don't think of you as my dog!"

"How many times do I have to say that I don't mind being called your dog before you figure out that maybe I want you to call me that?!" You glare up at him, watching the confusion and mixed emotions about the idea pass over his face in rapid succession, "I'm getting sick of you taking issue with the title, and refusing to understand why I don't; am I not every fucking thing the perfect dog is to you? I am loyal," with each descriptor you gave an instant push against his chest, as if to punctuate each point, "diligent, protective, you know I'd follow you to hell and back, it makes me happy to make you happy, and yes, Felix, just like a dog, I can be obedient," Felix's gaze is shocked as you lay it all out before him. Your voice lowers, Oliver can barely hear you over the music in the next room, "but unlike a dog, I was not trained to love you, to stick by you like I do; that is a choice I made. That is a choice I continue to make happily every single day of my life. Every other asshole who calls me a dog can see it, most of them are fucking jealous because I am the one you choose to keep by your side. Why would I ever take issue with being called that? What do I have to be jealous of? I am the dog, Felix Catton, and I am yours."

It's... reductive, Oliver thinks, but it has to be to get your point across, so he keeps that to himself. He knows all too well how old this sore spot is between you two, far older than his place in your relationship. Perhaps if things hadn't worked out quite so well for him, or if he weren't so secure in his relationship with you both, perhaps he'd worry, be jealous of how you're speaking once more like you and Felix only have each other. But her knows you're not, knows that you're speaking to the version of Felix who can't let go of his discomfort at the title's implications. Part of Felix would always listen to you above all others, even Oliver, but Oliver himself had in part fallen for the way you two loved each other, he lives seeing that connection still strong, bright and alive, and knowing that you've both still chosen to love him too.

Felix, a few feet away, looks suddenly conflicted, almost upset as he tries to process and reconcile your words. However, when Felix can't seem to give a proper reaction, a look of disappointment crosses over your face, and you turn sharply, stalking from the room, from the club entirely.

"It still feels demeaning to them," Felix has been sulking the entire walk back to campus, he and Oliver having left not too long after you. Oliver bites his tongue on the fact that he knows you get off on being demeaned in the right circumstances; Felix is off course aware of this, but not the true extent. Instead, all Oliver offers is a non-committal hum. Felix pouts, still mostly talking to himself, "'s rude," he mumbled, "'s a mean thing to call someone; dog..." Though it sounds almost like a question.

"So you'd be mad if someone called you Y/N's dog?" Oliver says with a surprising amount of casualness considering he has no idea where his boldness came from. Beside him, Felix goes very quiet. Oliver pointedly doesn't look at him.

"That's different," Felix finally managed after several long, strained moments in which he'd thoroughly considered Oliver's words. Except Felix hasn't managed to sound nearly as casual as Oliver, the poor boy sounds rather abashed at the thought, though he still tries to play it off, albeit unsuccessfully, "Ollie, that's- that's completely different."

"How's it different?" Oliver needles him subtly, still giving Felix a modicum of privacy from his ever watchful eyes.

"Because it is," Felix insists, before blurring out - "because it's never happened!"

When Oliver finally looks over at Felix, he keeps his expression just on the positive side of neutral, only to be met with the sight of Felix, wide eyed, and faintly flush. Oliver blinks.

"But you are," he says easily. Felix's lips press into a thin line, face turning steadily darker with his blush as he finally stops walking. Oliver can read the 'the fuck do you mean by that?' all across Felix's flustered, intoxicated features before the man can even open his mouth to ask, so Oliver stops walking too, elaborating without hesitation, "if we're going by Y/N's metrics for what a good dog is, aren't you one too?"

This conversation was completely unexpected for Oliver too, despite how he was the one who pushed it in this direction. Beautiful, expressive Felix is already growing less tense as he turns the thoughts over in his mind. Oliver, eager to help him along on his path to acceptance, reiterates the values you'd laid out in the club -

"Loyal, diligent, protective," he lists easily, "you know you'd follow them anywhere, and do anything to make them happy," he doesn't have to say that Felix can be obedient to you to know they're both thinking it. Instead, Oliver shrugs, "but you're Felix Catton, of course no-ones going to call you a dog."

"What?" Felix's deliberation finally gives way in the face of confusion.

"Everyone knows Y/N loves you, but they don't want to think about you loving Y/N back."

"But I do," Felix's soft voice sounds so hurt by the very idea, "everyone knows I do." Oliver's own expression softens as he steps forward. Felix's brow creases in what can only be described as disappointed confusion.

"I know," he assures smoothly, "that's other people's problem, its not fair on either of you." Oliver's hand is gentle on Felix's shoulder, but Felix is still clearly bothered, even as they start walking again.

"Maybe that's why it bothered you so much," Oliver finally speaks again when they're back on campus. Felix doesn't speak, but does look to Oliver with an expression of clear confusion, "because you didn't like the idea of people thinking Y/N loved you more than you loved them." After a moment, Felix sighs, making a faint, disappointed hum of agreement.

"Did you think that?" Felix asked softly after a moment, "before you really knew us, is that what you thought of us too?" He sounds almost disappointed at the thought. Oliver, however, has to fight back a smile.

"Not even for a fuckin' second," he admits with a sharp laugh, and Felix immediately perks up with intrigue and something almost like relief, though Oliver's tone is amused as he continues, "I honestly couldn't believe no-one else could see it; never seen anyone quite so dedicated to taking care of their dog as Y/N was to looking out for you."

Felix turns bright red once more, but he's wearing that big, bashful grin Oliver's always loved.

"I am, aren't I?" Felix sounds almost giddy at the thought. Oliver feels like there's fireworks going off in his chest.

"Y/N really can't go anywhere without their dog either," Oliver teases, lovingly parroting the words that had been so cruelly overheard at the club. If Felix were any drunker or happier, he probably would have started actually skipping. As it was, however, the two of them approaching Felix's dorm building, he wraps an arm around Oliver's shoulders.

"You know all that stuff they said, all that stuff about being a good dog, you know that's how we feel about you too, Ollie," Felix can clearly tell the minute Oliver's brain short circuits, because he laughs and plants a kiss on Oliver's cheek, "sorry if you're more of a cat person, mate," he teases, as if he hadn't just suddenly rewired something in his boyfriend's brain.

You and Felix. YouAndFelix. Both love him the way a dog loves their owner. It goes beyond even any lewd fantasies he'd had; a year ago he was watching you both through his window, talking and laughing in the afternoon sun, wishing desperately that he could work up the courage to talk to either of you, befriend you.

But you and Felix - YouAndFelix, together, individually, in every single way Oliver can conceive the idea of you - both love him. Our Ollie, the way he's heard spoken so lovingly, sounds so much sweeter than he'd ever even imagined.

"You're both very sweet to me," Oliver hears himself mumble as he and Felix finally find themselves outside of Felix's door. Everything feels like it's spinning, in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol, and everything to do with the way Felix is smiling at him. Instead of answering, though Oliver's sure there's half a dozen teasing or sappy comments trapped in the tip of Felix's tongue, he kisses him instead. Felix always seemed to know exactly when Oliver was overwhelmed with their shared reality, and always took his time to admire that look in Oliver's eyes. Now was no different.

He's always thought Oliver was so strange, so queer, so different from everyone else in his life, and so clearly loved him for it.

Felix finally is the one to break the moment, knocking lightly on the door, knowing you well enough to anticipate where you'd be despite your earlier anger. As if on cue, you sighed heavily on the other side of the door, before inviting them in.

While Felix barely gives you time to react where you're in your pyjamas, sitting in his bed in the lamp light, not even kicking off his shoes before he throws himself into your lap, wrapping his arm around your waist as he pressed his face against your thigh, Oliver hovers by the door.

"Hi, sorry, hi, love you," escapes Felix in a rush. Despite your conflicted expression, the way your hand comes to rest on his head, carding through his hair is automatic. It's an endearing, amusing sight to Oliver, considering the night that had just passed. He knows you're looking at him, questioning gaze searching for some kind of explanation for Felix's change of behaviour, but Oliver lets himself linger a few moments longer on watching Felix's almost childishly clingy behaviour.

He struggles to kick off his shoes for a moment before he finally managed, and hitch a leg up, over both of yours, still in his jeans and jacket but refusing to be anything but wrapped up in you.

"I'm not staying," is what Oliver finally says, despite the gentle affection in his voice. You frown faintly, but still seem more confused than upset, "I think you two need to talk," he explains. Despite the way your mouth flattens into a thin line, you're still gently petting Felix's hair. Still, Oliver steels himself, giving you a strange little smile, "you're a good dog, Y/N," he says pointedly. This seems to surprise you, but not as much as Felix's sitting echo.

"Such a good dog," he agrees with a fond sigh, half muffled against you. Immediately your confusion, your concern drops in favour of sweet, hopeful shock. But Oliver continues before he shuts the door, smile growing into a grin.

"So are you, Felix," and Felix's head shoots up so he can level a bright, sunny smile over his shoulder at Oliver. Christ, Oliver can practically see his tail wagging.

"Love you, Ollie," Felix beams cheerfully. While Oliver echoes the sentiment back at you both as he closes the door, you can't seem to look away from Felix.

Something warm and pleased and satisfied curls itself comfortably in Oliver's chest on the brief walk back to his own room. It goes beyond any selfish, sexual desires he's had, not that there wasn't an element of that, of course, but he can't stop thinking about the joy in Felix's expression, or the way you'd disbelieving smile you'd been wearing when Oliver had closed the door. An old ache beginning to heal.

The change is subtle at first. At least, from the outside.

After that fateful summer, the three of you had made no secret of your relationship. Felix had always been tactile and clingy and prone to shows of affection, you had always made a point to make Oliver feel included and welcome and like you craved his company, while Oliver himself had never made any secret of whose attention and contact he preferred in any group setting. So he's sure, to their friends, the three of you seem to be the same as you've always been.

Farleigh had once scoffed at the pub that the three of you were insufferably gross, and while the rest of the group at the table had agreed, it had been more teasing than malicious; on one side of Oliver, you'd pressed your laughter into his shoulder, while Felix had throw his arm around Oliver and chided Farleigh not to be jealous, wearing a wide, easy smile.

Oliver and Farleigh still may not exactly see eye to eye, but things had gotten easier between them. Across the table, Farleigh met Oliver's bashful gaze and though he'd rolled his eyes, though he seemed exasperated by all three of you, there was warmth in his eyes. He may not love Oliver, but he still loved you and Felix; baby steps.

So all that to say that at first the change is so subtle that even the ever-watchful Farleigh, who knows you and Felix better than any of your other friends, doesn't even notice.

But oh, Oliver feels the change right away.

He honestly thought the three of you weren't able to get closer, but he's never been more thrilled to be wrong. Never afraid or jealous of each other living your own lives, it just seemed that when you're around each other, you weren't interested in being seen as an individual. More possessive in the most affectionate way. Always in some kind of obvious contact, arguably too close for the comfort of others, not that any of you cared. Oliver, always shadowed by his beautiful guard dogs.

"Can I wear this?" You ask casually one evening, drinking cheap vodka and juice as you waited for Oliver to get ready to go out. When Oliver turns, half dressed after a shower, he sees you holding one of the chains he always found himself wearing. He doesn't think twice before agreeing, doesn't even think much of the request at the time. The significance is missed on him until the two of you meet up with Felix in the line for the club and he pulls you by the chain, in for a kiss. You're still holding Oliver's hand, fingers linked with his. Reading Felix's kiss for the compliment it is, you grin sharply as you pull back, stepping up beside him in line.

"Thanks, it's Ollie's."

"I know," Felix snorts a laugh, throwing an arm around you as he gives Oliver himself a sly smile, "you look good too, mate, how're you going?" You squeeze Oliver's hand, leaning into him for a moment with a coy smile. Your free hand is playing with his chain around your throat. Like you know exactly where his mind has suddenly gone.

Oliver already knows how this night will end, and it doesn't disappoint.

Neither he nor Felix can seem to leave you or the chain around your neck well enough alone, and you're clearly love it. You let yourself be lead around, let them lavish you with affection in dark corners, wearing a smile that's all teeth when you meet the surprised, scandalised gazes of those who gawked rather than averted their gaze.

In the back of the taxi on the way to campus, you're impossibly affectionate, like an excited puppy as you try and split your attention to your boyfriends either side of you.

"Settle down, love," Felix takes your hand in his, keeping you momentarily still, even as you pout.

"We'll be home soon," Oliver murmurs quietly, trying to act casual as he looks out the window, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. A faint, impatient whine escapes you, but you acquiesce, leaning your head on Felix's shoulder even as a fond laugh rumbles from his chest.

The cabbie has the radio on in the front, pointedly ignoring the three of you. But the music is loud enough that he doesn't hear the soft, approving way Felix mutters in your ear -

"Good dog."

But Oliver hears, feels the way your thighs momentarily clench together, hears the breathless, needy 'fucking hell, Fi' that escapes you. His grin grows wider.

On the walk back to your room - always cleaner than Felix's, and with a bigger, nicer bed than Oliver's - you're quiet, seemingly focusing very hard on staying that way, even as Oliver and Felix are bantering easily either side of you. Hands to yourself - well, metaphorically, Oliver and Felix are both holding one of your hands, Felix, feeling particularly joyful swings your linked hands in wide arcs between you - you listen diligently, and chime in whenever you felt your input was needed. Oliver thinks you're being incredibly endearing, but once the door is closed and the rest of the world is cut off from the three of you, Felix softly asks if you're okay.

Surprise lights up across your face the minute the question is spoken. It hadn't even occurred to you that Felix wouldn't understand your behaviour in this moment; this is far newer to him than it is to you. But then you look to Oliver, almost like you're afraid that he wouldn't understand either.

But he does, of course.

There's a faint thrill that courses through him realising that for what is perhaps the first time since he'd met you, he can read you better than Felix. That Felix was yet to understand how far from reluctant or uncomfortable you were in that moment.

Felix had told you to settle, called you a good dog when you had. So now you were trying your hardest to remain settled, to remain good. How delightfully obedient you were in these moments, in this headspace.

Oliver finally gave you a warm smile, shrugging off his jacket.

"They're being good is all," he says casually, drawing Felix's confused attention as you broke out into a wide smile at the praise. Again, Oliver has a flash, a mental image of a tail wagging with joy behind you.

"I'm being good, I'm being settled," you reiterated pointedly, standing carefully by the foot of the bed. Once more, however, you've started fussing with the chain around your neck. Felix looks back to you, as if he still can't quite grasp the full scope of what's happening, and laughs lightly.

"You're so fucking cute," he grinned, "love, you didn't have to stay settled all the way back here."

"I didn't?" Your eyes go wide with confusion, and you look again to Oliver, as if for confirmation, "but I..."

Oliver can feel his heart beating in his throat. Oh, right, he's the one who's done this before, he's the one who started this all, at least this version of this dynamic. You aren't Felix's dog in this moment, you are his.

"You did good, pet, don't worry" Oliver assures you, soothing you with a gentle tone as he steps towards you and takes your face in his hands, kissing you on the forehead. Wearing a grateful little smile, you regard him lovingly for a few moments, before he steps away and you turn your focus back to Felix. There's a hungry kind of intrigue in his big, brown eyes now as he takes the scene in with newfound understanding.

"You really are a good dog," Felix marvels approvingly. Your whole face lights up at that, stumbling a few steps forwards, as if you hadn't meant to move but needed to be close to him. Nodding furiously in agreement, your fingers fidget like you're trying desperately not to reach for him. Felix steps towards you, his smile growing wider as he does so, "mine- ours?" He corrects, wrapping his arms around you, and finally your resolve breaks.

"Both," you assure in a rushed breath before you're pulling him in, kissing him frantically, as all the longing you'd held back since you'd been told to settle floods through you. Once fidgeting hands now start frantically tugging at clothing, both yours and his, but Felix is matching your energy entirely. Oliver gets hit in the face with your jacket as it's flung across the room but neither you nor Felix notices. In his enthusiastic haste several of the buttons on your nice, expensive shirt are ripped off, pinging around the room.

Not that Oliver actually minds.

Still in his jeans, he leans his hip against your desk and watches for a few long moments with both a lewd appreciation, and amusement. Perhaps another day, or when it was just the two of you, Felix would invest himself properly in a version of this fantasy where you truly are his dog. Tonight, however, Oliver sees opportunity in the obvious, messy, needy way Felix is pawing at you. An opportunity for his plan to finally be realised, and he's not letting it pass him by.

When you fall back on the bed, Felix braced over you, your hand finding his fly while the two of you still haven't stopped to really breathe, Oliver sticks two fingers in his mouth to let out a sharp whistle.

Immediately there's silence, the attention of both of you having immediately snapped to Oliver. Shaking his head with faux exasperation, Oliver sighs loudly, as if terribly put upon.

"Can't take you two anywhere," he tsked, crossing his arms over his chest, "pair of naughty fuckin' puppies, you can't leave each other alone."

Felix blinks quickly, as if caught of guard by the shift in tension, the dynamic.

"Ollie, what are you -"

"Ollie, don't be mean, Fi's the best dog, take that back!" You chided despite your wide grin.

"Is he now?" Oliver asks archly, smirking at you both. Felix isn't quite looking at him, expression drawn and thoughtful as he processed this change, turned it over in his mind. Slowly, he looks down at you, at your soft, warm smile. A silent conversation between you both, one of many that Oliver will only ever be able to guess at, and you close your eyes as you sit up enough to press your forehead to Felix's.

Felix visibly relaxed, which you must feel judging by the way you grin.

"It's fun, I promise," your whisper, though in the cool, quiet night, Oliver can still hear it clearly.

"But he called me naughty, I can't believe it," Felix whined playfully, causing you to laugh as the two of you sank back down on the bed. Felix tucked himself up beside you, face half hidden where he was pressing his lips to your shoulder to hide his little smile, "you're so mean to me, Ollie." It sounded as though he was pouting, but his eyes betrayed him, nervous and tentative to be adapting and playing along with the bit, but clearly more than a little excited too. There's also something tearing, almost challenging about the way Felix was running his fingertips up and down the side of your chest.

"You are being naughty," Oliver finally pushes off of the desk, sauntering over to the bed, "both of you acting like I didn't exist."

"Can you blame me?" You actually giggled, sounding downright gleeful, "look at who we get to play with!" Felix flushed at that, pressing his bashful smile against your shoulder. Oliver finds himself really quite taken with how you've chosen to adapt to having Felix by your side in this fantasy.

"If I can't blame you," Oliver says with faint notes of faux warning in his voice as he sits by you both on the bed, "are you saying I should blame Felix? Is our new pet a bad influence." You stumble over your words for moment, searching for a denial, but Felix's head shoots up at that, his eyes wide as he props himself up on the bed beside you.

"Hey, I'm a good influence! I'm good!" He insists, the words coming to him so automatically that it seems to startle even him before he properly focuses back on Oliver's fond amusement. Felix grins sheepishly at his own enthusiasm, ducking his head to look instead at you as he reiterated with a soft giggle, "I'm good."

"I think you're very good," there's love on your tongue, in your eyes as you gaze up at him. Then, in the next moment, you wriggle yourself over to rest your head against Oliver's thighs, gazing up at him with a pout, "come on, Ollie, don't be mean," you practically whined, while Felix himself half draped himself across your middle, his head resting on your belly as he turned his full attention and hopeful brown eyes upon your boyfriend. It was far more convincing than Oliver had been expecting, and he actually feels his hard resolve beginning to falter under the combined force of both your longing gazes.

"We're sorry for neglecting you," you add sweetly, expression earnest as your fingers begin to card through Felix's hair. For a moment, Oliver watches the way Felix's eyes fall closed, leaning into the sensation.

"Can we make it up to you?" Despite Felix's soft voice, his smile was already all kinds of pleased and contented, "we're good at that," he insists. God, Oliver knows all too well that you both are; fucking hell, part of him may never believe this isn't a dream. Except he knows his definitely not dreaming when he feels the delicate touch of your free hand on his knee, moving higher - or as high as you're able given the awkward angle your arm is at.

"Play with us, let us make it up to you," giving Oliver thigh a squeeze you grinned up at him. Without giving him a moment to respond, however, you made a tsk noise in the back of your throat, "you're so overdressed. Fi -" you tap Felix's head gently to get his attention once more, and Felix's eyes open, alight and at attention, "he's so overdressed, don't you think?" Immediately Felix is sitting up, agreeing.

"Think we should help him with that," Felix says frankly, wearing a pleased little grin like he's excited to be helpful. All over-eager and enthusiastic, both you and Felix are suddenly all over Oliver, working together to get him out of his jeans before he can even wonder where he'd lost control of the situation.

Playfully victorious, you're peppering Oliver's face with excited kisses as Felix is kneeling by the bed, tugging the now free jeans down his thighs. Despite the chaos of it all, Oliver's laughing loud and bright, trying his best to get his arms around you to still some of the kinetic love you're showering him with.

"Come on, Ollie," Felix, however, gets caught up halfway through his own job, and presses a kiss to his knee, hands coming to rest, flat and warm on Oliver's thighs, "how'd you expect to get off with those on?" But he sounds so light and joyful; Oliver's heart is fucking singing in this moment.

"Oi, sit," Oliver tries to order between his own laughter and your lips on his every few moments. It takes him another second to claw back some of his composure, "both of you, sit," at least this time you both listen, despite him still radiating breathless amusement.

Felix looks to you for a moment, watches the way you settle yourself, cross-legged and hands in your lap as you fought back a smile, and sits back on his heels, wearing a sheepish grin of his own as he looks back to Oliver. Oliver has to take a moment to compose himself, barely restraining his own laughter, before he kick his pants off from around his ankles. Felix takes the opportunity to then lean in and rest his chin on Oliver's knee, wide, affectionate grin on his face that Oliver practically melts at. He can't help himself -

"Who's a good boy?" He teases Felix, reaching over to scratch at Felix's scalp lightly. Again, Felix eyes close at his nose scrunches with a strange little smile.

"If it's not me I'm actually going to be so upset," he mutters, sounding almost embarrassed by the thought. It takes a moment for his words to sink, and he followed it with a snort of amusement, before all three of you are laughing in the warm privacy of your bedroom, and this moment.

"Of course it's you," Oliver reassures him, coaxing him up onto the bed, shifting to sit back against the headboard with room for you both on either side. Felix looks far less embarrassed and far more pleased now, leaning in when Oliver coaxes him in for a kiss, "my helpful, good boy," Oliver murmurs against his lips, and Felix lets out a breathless, pleased noise as he wraps an arm around Oliver's neck, kissing him back almost desperately. Oliver would always love how Felix was so wonderfully consistent when it came to his praise kink.

Beside him, he can feel you shift on the bed, and in the next moment, your hand is on his thigh. When he and Felix both look to you, breaking their focus on one another, you've settled yourself by Oliver's thighs. Leaning in, you gently nudge at his cock where it's staining against the material of his boxers with your nose, before proceeding to kiss softly up his shaft through the material. Sing when you reach the head, you sit back a little, giving pause as two of your fingers hooked into the elastic of his waistband. Finally met his gaze, looking up at him through your lashes expectantly, want in your eyes that has Oliver's already quick heartrate thundering in his chest.

"Thought I told you to sit," he says wryly. You wet your lips, hips shifting a little.

"I am sitting," you pointed out, which set Felix off, had him pressing his amused chuckle against Oliver's shoulder. You did, however, remain obediently still. Except for the challenging smile that graced your lips, "wanted to make up for ignoring you."

Felix's laughter, however, had died down at that, and the hand that had been around Oliver was now trailing feather-light down his bare chest, past your own, to wrap around Oliver's aching hard cock, still trapped behind a thin layer of cotton.

"Just gotta say the word," Felix murmurs into his ear. His hand begins to slowly work up and down Oliver's cock. Oliver watches you lean down and press a kiss to the soft skin of his belly, by his hip, just above his waistband, while Felix was pressing languid kisses along his jaw.

"Both so good to me," Oliver groaned, gently pushing at Felix's shoulder, though he takes the hint and joins you by Oliver's thighs.

A moment passes between you both, Felix taking your face in his free hand and pulling you in for an intense kiss that only somehow manages to make Oliver even more painfully turned on than he already was. Both still half dressed, you're both practically overflowing with love for each other and Oliver in this moment. The kiss breaks and youre both grinning foreheads pressed together; Oliver's never been truly able to read the exact things that pass between you in these moments of silent communication, but he thinks he sees 'see, I told you this was fun' in the way you smile.

And as much as he adores this moment, he's pretty sure if someone doesn't actually touch his dick soon he's going to die.

"'s there a reason you're keeping me waiting?" Oliver asks archly; Felix's grin grows wider, while you give him a faintly guilty smile, apologising softly before you pull down his boxers. Finally.

Oliver's hips buck the second your fingers wrap around him, leaning down with intent to -

"Hey!" Felix almost sounds indignant that you'd taken his place, a thought which sends a thrill through Oliver. You look up at this, but the minute you're distracted Felix has bent down to run his tongue along the head of Oliver's cock, tasting the precum beading there before he's taking Oliver into his mouth.

"Fi, that's cheating!" You whined, pouting with your free hand braced against Oliver's thigh - "Ollie, Fi's cheating!" You pouted, to which Felix raised his head to defend himself, gleefully and entirely submersed in this roleplay.

"I'm not cheating," he tried to declare, however you dipped down in an attempt to usurp him. Felix, seemingly anticipating this, refuses to move, instead letting you headbutt him, the two of you in a playful stalemate while you attempted to keep up a consistent rhythm with your hand still on Oliver's cock. Tension, with neither of you backing down, breaks only when one of you - though Oliver's genuinely not sure which - seems to realise the reality of the situation, and how close you both are, and suddenly you're aggressively making out.

Not in Oliver's wildest dreams would he ever have imagined that he could have the two of you fighting over who gets the privilege of going down on him. It's going to take all of his willpower if he wants to last much longer. But he needs to last at least a bit longer, needs to take back control, to make sure this plays out well for both of you too.

So Oliver calls your name, and you and Felix break apart. Your eyes are on Oliver, wide eyed and breathing hard.

"No fighting," he chided, and you wet your lips, sitting back a little as Felix takes this as his victory. Oliver coaxes you up to him, part of him sad to lose the feeling of your talented fingers around him, but Felix is more than capable, and more than makes up for it. Oliver wraps an arm around you, his free hand guiding one of yours to Felix's head as it bobbed up and down between Oliver's thighs, "you're going to help him, you can do that, can't you?" His words are gentle, commanding, and even as you still seem to be playing at sulking, you give a small nod. Felix groans appreciatively as your grip tightens on his hair, which Oliver echoes as he feels it himself.

You're beginning to squirm. Good. He's been utterly thrilled by how tonight has been playing out, but Oliver always enjoys when you finally fall into being desperately obedient. He wants to show Felix how good of a dog you really are.

Oliver pulls you in closer, nose to nose, smirking as the playful fight in you was giving way quickly to pure desire.

"Our good boy, isn't he? Our Felix," Oliver's voice is loud enough for you both to hear; Felix moans around his cock, shifting to get a better angle, to take Oliver deeper, as deep as he can. Your breath catches, pupils blown wide. There was something truly, almost sickeningly fascinating about what he could only describe as your Praise-Kink-By-Proxy; you clearly got off to the way Oliver lusted over Felix, that much was made clear that night in the bathtub at Saltburn, and Oliver could see it in your eyes again now.

"Our Felix," you'd mumbled breathlessly, casting your gaze to him as Oliver lazily trialled kisses down your jaw and throat. Felix doesn't stop, your hand on his head still making sure he keeps a consistent rhythm, but he does look up, does meet your lust-filled gaze, does see how your hips and thigh are shifting. Oliver brings your gaze back to him by tugging at his chain around your throat, and it's all you need to kiss him. He doesn't let it go. Sloppy and passionate, he moans Felix's name into your mouth and you whimper desperately at the sound. His hips are rolling, matching Felix's rhythm as his cockhead presses insistently against the back of his throat, and you're panting and whining and unable to find any real relief -

"Did I say you could touch yourself?" Oliver murmured sharply the minute he feels you reaching for the waistband of your own pants with your free hand. You whimpered, and his grip on the chain around your neck grows tighter. Squeezing your eyes closed as you shook your head, traitorous hand moving to dig your fingernails into your thigh, "are you going to settle down for me?" He whispered, lips brushing yours as you squirmed helplessly.

"This is unfair," you moaned, and Oliver's grip around you grew tighter, "Ollie, please -"

"You fucking love when I'm unfair to you," he hissed with an almost cruel smugness as you gasped, hips beginning to roll and rutt against nothing.

"Ollie, don't be mean," Felix raised his head, hand going still on Oliver's desperately twitching cock, an actual note of warning in his voice. Oliver smirks at him, all lazy, arrogant confidence. He maneuvers you, pulls you back from him to let Felix properly see the way your lip is beginning to tremble with how desperate you were for satisfaction or even just a hint of relief. Still, you tried to press yourself against him, even as your back arched wantonly and your thighs pressed together, shifting in search of friction that was still upsetting absent from where you desired it most.

"You think I'm being too mean right now?" Oliver whispered in your ear; unfortunately for you, Oliver knows all too well how much you love this game. After a moment of hesitation, your gaze locked with Felix's. It's as if you're embarrassed to be seen in this state, the way you'd so willingly let Oliver drive you mad with desire. Averting your gaze from Felix's, you swallow hard.

"No," the single word comes out as a sulky kind of whimper.

"And why's that?" Oliver prompted, adding slyly, "you made Felix worry." He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

"He's -" you tired your head back with a desperate groan as Oliver raked the nails of his free hand up your side, "he's always good to me in the end." You pouted, clearly still thinking it was unfair being denied in the moment.

"You promise?" Felix asks firmly, looking Oliver in the eyes now.

"Promise," Oliver smirks back, whispering against your skin that if you're a good for him, he'll let Felix play with you. The desperate noise that escapes you is incredibly telling, and one Oliver knows all too well as the indication that you were on the edge of being incoherent. Good, he loves getting you to this point, and loves even more the way Felix is looking at you right now.

"You're doing so well, Felix, don't keep them waiting," Oliver insisted. At that you reached out once more, hand coming to rest on Felix's head, petting him gently before he allowed you to guide him back down to Oliver's spit-slicked and waiting cock. Oliver's grip on the chain shifts, the metal loose between his fingers as he carefully, delicately, wraps his hand around your throat. Your pleading expression is so deliciously needy when Oliver pulls you back in against him.

"Good dog," he presses the praise against your trembling lips.

It's like a beautiful symphony, better than any wet dream or fantasy he'd ever had, and he hadn't even fucked either of you yet. He moans Felix's name into your mouth when he finally comes undone, his hand resting on yours atop Felix's hair as he takes it all and swallows every last drop.

"So fucking good, Felix," Oliver's breathing hard as he comes down from the euphoric high he'd just experienced, scratching gently at Felix's scalp as he raised his head, pleased grin on his face. When Felix sits up, out of both of your grips, your hand immediately goes between your thighs, desperate to touch yourself but still fighting the urge, trapping it while still making your intent obvious.

But while Oliver is more than satisfied, you, tucked up against him, are all but a mess as he cradled you close.

"Come on, Ollie," Felix climbs over his legs to be by your side. His smile is warm and fond, and when Felix's hand comes to rest on your hip, your soft, whining noises become more audible, "the poor thing deserves a treat."

Oliver feels the way you shiver and tense with anticipation at Felix's words, nose then bumping insistently against Oliver's jaw, keening noises catching in your throat. You were begging in the only way you have left, now that you'd found yourself deep enough in this headspace.

"Look at him," Oliver murmured, sounding almost proud as you turned your desperate, hopeful gaze upon Felix, "he's even being good to you."

Taking it as a blessing, you're immediately scrambling to your knees by Felix, no longer whining, and clearly overjoyed. One hand pulling him in for a kiss, your other was frantically trying to remove your pants.

"Not ignoring you," Felix insisted to Oliver as you'd broken the kiss if only to pitch yourself back on the bed in an effort to wriggle desperately out of your pants, "just -"

"Settle down," Oliver ordered suddenly, and you suddenly went still, ceasing the way you'd been fighting with your pants around your ankles, "help them, Felix," she sighs with fond exasperation. Of course Felix does, but it's like a switch has flipped; he's back on board, a good dog still, just like you. Once your pants are off, Felix is trailing kisses up your legs, much to your clear glee -

"You puppies are so stupid," Oliver shakes his head, affection in his words, "you're lucky you're cute," but still both of you turn to him with a a sad kind of confusion. Oliver tries not to laugh, he really tries, you're both somehow hot and adorable at the same time, "Felix, you're still wearing pants."

Somehow, this seems to surprise both of you, and again you're up 'I can help, I can help, I can help' radiating enthusiastically from you as you make quick work of finally undoing Felix's fly, as you'd attempted to earlier in the evening. The two of you share soft giggles as Felix's hard cock is freed and his pants are tossed to the side, leaving him standing on the floor at the edge of the bed where you're up on your knees, looking up at him. Like this, he still manages to dwarf you, and Oliver watches with an aroused fascination as this moment plays out.

Felix doesn't speak, it's as if he's matching your energy, understanding your headspace, he's confident and even cocky in a way that Oliver doesn't often see from him. He remembers saying 'if you're good, I'll let Felix play with you' and it seemed some primative part of Felix's mind has taken that to heart as he held tight to the chain around your throat, leaning in with an unmistakable huger in his eyes. It has you practically melting, hands on his hips, not daring to stray further without his approval. He doesn't even kiss you, he holds you at bay with his lips inches from yours and a hand firm on your collar, drinking in your desperation. You begin to whimper again, shifting your weight back and forth, hips rocking in anticipation; Oliver's sure he'll be able to see the marks your nails leave on Felix's hips when you finally let go.

Another silent conversation between you both, but so clear, so loud, so simple Oliver can hear it loud and clear. Felix is telling you, in no uncertain terms, that in this moment you are his, and every part of you agrees. Yet Oliver knows with a smug, self satisfaction, that he with one word you would both be by his side. So he'll let you both have this.

A year ago, he would have paid his entire life savings and then some to get to see you two in a moment like this. Already, he's getting hard again; a familiar, voyeuristic thrill runs through him as he drinks you both in, taking his cock in hand.

Felix barely has to tip his head, letting go of your necklace, before you're moving quickly, a moment vague and indecipherable to anyone else is a clear directive for you to turn. It's a flurry of movement after that, of Felix's hands on you, on your hips to pull you close, your lower back to have you bending, face pressed to the mattress. Your ass in the air, presented to him perfectly, he slides into you, drawing unholy noises from you both after so long spent waiting already that night.

Oliver basks in this moment, can only imagine how good you must feel right now, all tight and warm and completely and utterly desperate to be filled. Felix's groan is its own kind of beautiful, finally finding his voice again as absolutely filthy praise spills from his lips. Hips rocking back to meet each of Felix's slow, deep thrusts, your breathing is shaky amid the low, pleased noises that escape you. Beautiful, a creature of mindless want and desire, you've got one shaking hand between your thighs as the other reaches out, searching blindly for Oliver.

Face pressed into the plush duvet, you link your fingers with Oliver's the moment he reaches out to you. Your grip is tight, and he runs his thumbs in comforting rhythms against your hands, something pleased, loving, and so fucking turned on as Felix was quickly coming to fuck you like an absolute animal. The way you so desperately craved.

"Perfect," Felix moaned, "god you're so fucking perfect for us, pet, aren't you?" Nodding weakly, as much as your able, you clutch at Oliver's hand; his teasing had clearly already worked you up, brought you close. Both of you.

"Our good dog," Oliver murmurs, just to hear you whimper.

Fuck, he can't wait to watch you come undone.

Can't wait to make you both sit, roll over, beg.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #felix catton x y/n #oliver quick x y/n #felix catton smut #oliver quick smut #head heart hand fic #manic writer #okay so i got a bit drunk before writing the last few paragraphs don't judge me

164 notes · View notes

rogueddie · 1 year

Text

Scoops Ahoy Steddie Fics

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 🍌

STRIKE TEN.

oaseas

Steve’s striking out. It’s the summer after his graduation, he’s working 9-5 at Scoops Ahoy, and hey, did you hear? He’s striking out. Enter Robin, her ‘you rule/you suck’ board, and a promise to romance the next girl through the door. Except, that’s no girl. That’s Eddie Munson.

Words : 16,075 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

two bros chilling in the mall (ten yards apart 'cause we're not gay)

Gues, peytra

Steve Harrington is just your average guy working a shitty part-time job in a stupid mall. Really! He's very normal, he promises.

Just across the way, Eddie Munson works at Legacy Vinyl. He hates his job, his life, and most of all he hates having to see King Steve every single day.

What could possibly go wrong?

Words : 91,993 Chapters : 34/34 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Maybe You're the Boy From My Dreams

ZiraC

Steve and Robin often bitch at each other. It's just a part of their dynamic. What happens when Steve accidentally bitches at a customer instead of Robin.

Words : 5,264 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Not Rated

AO3 : x

Raspberry Riddle

madaboutmunson (BCRichSweetheart)

Eddie meeting Scoops Ahoy Steve, sort of from Robin's POV

Words : 4,874 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

You know you're just my type

liionne

In the summer of '85, Robin and Eddie make a bet: ten dollars says Steve Harrington is straight, and Eddie has the whole summer to prove her wrong

Words : 7,287 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Maybe He's Born With It

Zigster

The one where Robin, Eddie, and Steve all work at Scoops. Robin has convinced Steve that wearing a little mascara and lip gloss goes a long way in luring in customers and Steve believes her. Friendship and domestic holiday-time enjoyment ensue with plot twists abound!

Words : 40,100 Chapters : 23/23 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

sorry to ruin what's probably supposed to be a plot twist, but this has non-human Eddie- fyi for those who don't like that sort of au

double dare

firefencer

Nancy & Eddie working at Scoops AU

Words : 23,422 Chapters : 13/13 Rating : Not Rated

AO3 : x

Tell Me, Baby, What's On Your Mind

KiaraMGrey

All Eddie wanted to do was stop by Starcourt Mall to pick up his friend from the movies. But now he has a seemingly drugged up Steve Harrington leaning in WAY too close. And… did he seriously just call him pretty?

Words : 2,126 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

purify our misfit ways

laundrybiscuits

“Edward Munson,” Robin says, eyes wide in a way that means trouble. “I sincerely hope your last will and testament is in order, because your mortal soul will leave your body when you hear who just got hired at Scoops Ahoy.”

Eddie and Robin survive the summer of 1985.

Words : 23,904 Chapters : 5/5 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

You Are My Favorite Place

god_hates_tyler

Steve goes to his first day at Scoops Ahoy and meets one Robin Buckley. She notices how god awful he is with the ladies and bets him he can't get a date by the end of the week. Steve, not one to back down from a challenge, agrees. The only issue? Steve has been in a secret relationship with Eddie Munson for over a year now.

Words : 7,356 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #fic rec #ficrec #scoops steddie my beloved #I could genuinely read the same scoops fic in different fonts and never get tired of it

538 notes · View notes

sturniololoco · 8 months

Note

Can you PLEASEEEE write a fic about Nathan and hockey🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

Big Game Pt 1

SLS x Nathan Doe

warnings: Not yet hehehe

Nathan's POV

Today was the big hockey game of the season for Somerville High School. We had made it all the way to the State Finals.

Matt and Chris, my best friends and a part of the Sturniolo Quadruplets, were playing in the game as well. Nick was there for photography reasons, and their sister, SLS/N, was tagging along to cheer us on.

It was lunch time and the boys, SLS/N, and I were at our usual table in the back. We Chris and I were talking about the game while Nick and Matt were getting lunch in line. SLS/N was sitting quietly, writing in her notebook

She had her nose scrunched, biting her lip in concentration. Looking absolutely adorable while doing it. I couldn't help but look at her, getting distracted from Chris talking.

"Hey! Are you even listening?" He laughs snapping in my face.

I laugh, may face turning a little red. Lucky for me, Matt and Nick walk over. Matt gently ruffles her hair, as she looks up at him and smiles, showing her dimples. Adorable.

"So, you guys excided for your game?" I hear her ask.

I look up and she's looking at me. I quickly look down, stabbing at my lunch with my fork.

The bell rang for lunch, the triplets taking the left to get to PE, while SLS/N and I take a right so I can drop her off at her Spanish class, just like we do every day.

Just before I drop her off, I work up the courage to take my home jersey, the one that I won't use because we're playing away today and toss it at her.

"Wear it at the game. You need a little spirit." I say, giving her a smile while running my fingers through my hair.

She catches it and unfolds it, holding it up and reading Doe on the back. She looks up at me and smiles.

"You know I can wear matt's or Chris's, right?" She asks, but kept the jersey all the same, tucking it into her backpack.

"Yeah, but my last names way cooler than theirs." I say, giving her a wave and walking to my class.

I hear her giggle then walk into her class.

As soon as the bell rang, I rushed out of my calculus class, down the main stairs, and out the door to get to the student parking lot. We had an hour and a half long drive to get the the ice rink, so we needed to get going.

Matt, Chris, and I all chucked our hockey gear into the back along with our backpacks, shutting the car door. We then hopped in the car, only to notice that SLS/N was not in the car yet.

"Oh my god, i thought I told her to get out quick." Matt mumbled under his breath, eyeing the long line of cars, cramming together while trying to get out of the parking lot.

We only had to wait about five more minutes until I see SLS/N running towards the car. The hops in between Nick and I in the back, out of breath and her cheeks pink from running all the way here.

"Matt-I'm so-so sorry. Some idiot spilled paint all over me." She says in between breaths.

only then did I notice the blue paint, running all the way down her shirt. Her shirt was wet, like she tried to get some of it off with water, only to make it spread worse.

But I was shocked at what she did next.

"Chris, can i borrow your hoodie for the game?" She asked her older brother.

He nodded, taking off his black sweatshirt and handing it to her. Much to my surprise, she peeled of her wet shirt, leaving her in just a sports bra before throwing Chris's hoodie on.

I felt my cheeks turn red, noticing how close I was to her bare skin. She then dug around in her backpack, and pulled out my other jersey, and put that on over the black hoodie.

I smiled at myself, admiring how good she looks with my name on her back.

New series y'all!!! Part 2 tomorrow if ur interested, let me know in the comments!!!

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs

#nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #nathan doe x reader #nathan doe smut #nathan doe

151 notes · View notes

nieceeee · 1 year

Text

"DATE NIGHT"

P/S: "So how was the date" babydaddy!eren x reader once she makes it home from her night out.

W/C: 1388

A/N: Okay this is so fluffy and emotional, Rennie is such a freaking sweetheart and reader is a roller-coaster of emotions, y'all asked or part two so here we go! if I do a part 3 it may be from Eren's point of view and what happens when he makes it home to his girlfriend after staying all night at his baby mama's house...

today will definitely be a double drop day for all the love because we love sweet Rennie but daddy Rennie is a whole different vibe!

also I usually write from first person POV so if you see and I or ME that's what that is, let me know if y'all care about that and if y'all want to read in that POV.

Previous Fic: Let Me Help

Part One: Its Better This Way

All throughout the night, you try your best to focus on the man sitting in front of you but you mind refuses to think about anything other than the father of your child. You hope that the nice man who invited you to dinner wouldn't notice the way your eyes shifted. The way you lose interest in the fact that his eyes weren’t that emerald green you loved so much. “So yes, what about you?” his voice cut in. Your eyes widened slightly as you registered the question. “Oh, I’m just testing the waters on life.” you responded smoothly. He smiled and continued talking, unaware of your lack of interest.

“Thank you again for tonight. It was very nice.” you muster the strength to say to your date as he walks you to your car. “You’re welcome. Hopefully, we can get together again some time.” He questions hopefully. Not likely you think to yourself but you smile anyway. “One day.” You shrug slightly. He opens the driver side door for you and allows you to step inside. “Goodnight.” you say unable to bring yourself to give him a gentle peck on the cheek of appreciation or even a simple hug. Thankfully he doesn't press the matter, simply providing you a small nod of gratitude as he steps out of your way. You pull out of the parking lot and turn onto the road.

“Hey Siri, call Rennie.” you say as you pull up to a red light. He picks up on the second ring. “Yeah?” His sleepy voice vibrates through the speaker of the phone sending an unnecessary chill down your spine. You clear your throat slightly, hoping to relieve the tension. “I’m headed home. You still there?” you ask. You try your best to mask the hopefulness in your voice as you ask the question. “Yeah, I’m here. Just got little man down and I guess I dozed off with him.” He answered quietly. A small smile tugged at your lips as the image popped into your head. “Okay be there soon.” A little cry sounded in the background. “I think he heard your voice.” Eren said, chuckling softly. You hear him shuffling to standing and the gentle hitch in his breath as he leans down to pick up your child. “It’s okay little man. Daddy’s got you. Mommy will be home soon.” He whispered to him. “I’ll be there in 10.” you say before disconnecting the call. You rush as fast as you can back to your apartment.

Turning into the driveway, you cut the engine and locked your doors. Your mother’s car wasn’t here anymore. You quickly make your way to the front door, unlocking it and stepping inside. Quietly shutting it behind you and making sure it was locked, you clack your way up the steps to your bedroom. The nursery door is open when you get up there. You peek in to see Eren slowly rocking your son, smiling down at him. Your heart lurches slightly in your chest at the sight. You take a slow step back to collect yourself but he looks up and sees you, those eyes you had been dreaming about on your date meeting yours, before you could turn around and go to your room. “Hey.” He smiles. “Hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your quality time.” you say. “All good. I was just laying him back down. You need to go get changed and everything? I don't mind waiting on you to finish up.” He offers. He leans over and places your child gently back into his crib. “Yeah, I won't be long.” you say. He follows you into your room, closing the door gently behind him.

“So how was the date?’ He asks leaning against the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest. Two pulses shoot down through your core but you shift your eyes away slowly. You plop down on the bed in a huff. “That good, huh?” He teases, walking over to kneel in front of you. The image of him on his knees before you bringing up long lost memories as you swallow hard. You take a slow breath to focus on the current moment. “You don’t have to do that.” you say softly. “Yeah, I know.” He responds. His warm hands wrap around your ankle as he carefully slips your heels off, placing them down by the foot of the bed. Then he gently holds your foot in his hand, massaging the swollen parts. You sigh quietly at the relief of his fingers working into the aches of your arches. He carefully rubbed the knots from both feet before releasing you. “Thank you.” you whisper. A gentle smile tugs at his lips. “Go, take a bath, get changed. I’ll be here when you get out.” He says standing back up and going back to the nursery.

You grab some clothes and make your way into the bathroom, trying not to think too much about what just happened, the warmth of his hands still lingering against your skin as you turn the water on and step inside. After you have cleaned yourself up and done your nighttime routine, you walk back towards your bedroom. He is sitting on the bed, your child in his arms waiting patiently. “He must be hungry.” you say walking to the bed. Eren stands as you toss the covers aside and scoot onto the mattress. You prop yourself up against the pillows and Eren hands you your nursing pillow. You press it into place and Eren reaches down and lays your child on top. He turns away towards the wall to allow you to unsnap your bra and let c/n latch.

“All good.” You clear your throat, alerting him to turn back and face you. “So, the date?” He asks again, taking that same spot in front of you on the bed. “I don't know. I mean he seemed nice but…” you pause, not able to tell him that the real reason you couldn't enjoy your date was that he was on your mind the entire time. “I just don't think I’m ready. Not now anyway.” you say shifting your gaze down to the bundle you held in your arm. “Understandable.” he reaches over and gives your knee a gentle squeeze. “It will happen in time. Don’t rush yourself. But also, give yourself grace. It’s okay to get back out there.” He encourages you. Your chest tightens with emotions but you mask it with a soft smile. You both sit in each other's company, the soft fan and the suckling of a child the only noises being made.

After c/n is done feeding, you burp and change him and Eren lays him back down in the crib. He places a gentle kiss to his forehead before whispering something slightly to him. You stand at the doorway, waiting to walk him out. You both walk to the living room in silence but he pauses at the door. “Babydoll...” he calls softly. “Yeah?" Eren turns to you, a longing glossy look in his eyes. Your heartbeat speeds up and a lump forms in your throat. “Do you think?” he pauses, trying to figure out if he should ask but he chooses to push through the anxiousness. “Do you think one day this would have worked?” He asks. You are at a loss for words. You hadn’t really discussed how things ended with you since that day you left him standing in the mall with her. “E, I-..” You didn't know how to respond. He drops his head slowly and a sharp pain hits your chest. “I get it.” He responds, voice barely above a whisper. You open your mouth to speak again but he simply pulls you into a hug. You rest your head against his chest, finding solace in his warmth and steadiness in the rhythm of his heartbeat. After what felt like seconds, he reluctantly pulls back and plants a kiss on your forehead. “Ren…” you start. “Goodnight my sweet babydoll.” He whispers before turning and walking out the door. You lock the door behind him before leaning back against it. You don't realize the tears are falling until you feel your butt hitting the floor and drops sliding from your face down to your arms.

#aot x reader #aot x y/n #fem!reader #baby daddy eren #eren aot #eren x black reader #eren x reader #eren yeager #aot fluff #aot x you #nieceenotes

336 notes · View notes

yxstxrdrxxm · 1 year

Text

SYNOPSIS: Kazuha, a well-known tailor in Inazuma, had a spouse. It's only a shame that his spouse is known for their 'infidelity' in his eyes. [ songfic ]

TW/S: Yandere tendencies, stalking, minor and major character death/s, emotional manipulation in a way, gore, violence, fire/arson, sewing... questionable fabric, unreliable narrator, shifting POVs, dead dove: do not eat, dollification, delusional thinking, Kazuha progressively loses it till the end, beheading, oh God this fic and tws are long Im so sorry―

NOTE: During the fic, it is recommended to listen to "The Tailor of Enbizaka". It will make sense when you read through this fic :)

(also, I apologize if this took a while for me to write. I got busy and writer's block hit me :( anyways, second work and its the best boy! Though, I hope you all don't blame me for fucking him up. Also also!! This is very much a long, LONG fic— like 2k+ long, so 🫡 gl soldier, I'll see if I don't need to make this to a 2 part series)

(update: this fic took 6k words, good luck y'all, this one is a WILD ride)

In Inazuma, there is a tale that is shared by many about a crimson clad man and his lover.

The others never settled on what he looked during the day before his death, nor were they sure what his prior job was before he became a tailor. However, they always complimented him for his looks and his skill, knowing that whatever he used as his own special fabric would be tailored and taken care of well.

Even with one full of holes and tears, he is gifted with the ability to patch them up till it was brand new. In the village he lived in, he was regarded for having such a talent, and he had his shop open and full of visitors.

However, the only thing that made people question him was his behavior. Despite how mild-manner the tailor was, he often comments on how his beloved darling refused to come home and continues to cheat on him.

Many those that still lived during the time said the crimson-eyed tailor acted delusional, but just how far can those delusions go?

No one knows but the man himself... And the one who persecuted him, too.

It was that year since I've seen my beloved after the accident.

A year that, when I saw them, I've longed to see them and speak to them about our time together as a married couple.

To begin with, I am Kaedehara Kazuha, or― as the townsfolk here call me, the 'Crimson-Eyed Tailor'. Although I am highly regarded for my craftsmanship, many told me that I am odd for my adoration for my beloved maple.

Why is it that odd? I thought all married couples do this, even if some think that it feels off.

Besides that, however, my darling isn't quite aware of my... Endeavors. More specifically, their streak of getting out for hours, perhaps days and weeks, and not even coming around to speak to me.

I am bound to them by an oath when we were married: we both drank sake together under that faithful light of the moon, with only nature watching over us. However, it would seem as if they have forgotten that, and ended up cheating on me in broad daylight.

Like they had no such shame.

Alas, I am but their husband, and I can't simply get mad at my beloved spouse. I know they did no wrong, for they sometimes meet with others as an act of being 'friendly'.

So while I focused on fixing the kimono, I've began to hear something that had been passed around in the village.

Something related to my darling's little ventures.

"I have spoken to [Name] about the matters in their marriage recently," one of the ladies spoke, her voice not so soft enough to conceal who she was speaking about as I fixed the fabric in my hands.

"And from what they told me, they're getting their kimono fixed for when their lover returns home!"

I simply continued on sewing, but the lady's next words had me flinch.

"Ah, they've been married for years, aren't they? And it seems they even have their shiromuku ever since their marriage to sir Kamisato Ayato. How romantic!"

...

The blood continues to spill on my finger, with the needle that I used pricking it when I've lost focus and got too careless.

How uncouth.

From the tale shared by the folks of Narukami Island, they talked about the crimson-eyed tailor's marriage with his supposed 'spouse': an immigrant of sorts from Fontaine, traversing to Inazuma to meet with their lover.

Their relationship together is strange. From the accounts of those with prying eyes, they said that he was the only one putting an effort to their relationship, and they wished to take it slow.

However, there are those that disagreed, saying that it had been the other way around— and it was he who wished for them to slow down.

No one can decide what the tailor had done, for they can't even tell if his desires were to rush or to slow down. But what can be confirmed is one thing everyone kept saying.

He doesn't like his trust being broken.

It had been days after hearing what I did.

I hadn't seen my dearest beloved in those days, and the day I saw them had been when the heir of the Kamisato clan had returned.

I had been busy as ever in sewing till I realized that I'm running out of thread. I don't have any spares, and I'm well aware that there are a few shops that sell supplies for sewing.

And so, on a lazy afternoon, I've got out of my shop in the hopes that I can catch the store to buy the supplies I needed.

The soft sound of wood hitting the pavement greeted my ears, alongside hushed murmuring and discussing with the commonfolk. I greeted a few that noticed me in passing, but they were swift to return to the people they were speaking to prior.

It was a mundane thing, really. But it was the type that felt familiar.

Turning a few corners, I managed to locate the shop I was looking for. Walking up the stairs, I waved at the lady taking care of the store—

—not before my ears perked up at the soft chattering in the distance.

My eyes trailed over to the source, and then, I see them.

My beloved maple.

I saw that they were conversing with the heir of the Kamisato clan, his hand reaching over to hand them a small gift: a small box, with the ribbon being the color of purple. I spot the gleam of gold on top of the ribbon, which eludes me to think that it is the insigna of the clan crested in gold.

How tacky.

I had to hold back the urge to stop them as their conversation was hard to discern, my focus back on the woman running the shop with the supplies I require.

"Hello, madame," I greeted, making the woman smile and nod in greeting as well. "Do you need fabric again, Kaedehara?"

I chuckled, but it was only to mask the bits of instability in my voice.

"Oh, not fabric, madame. I simply desire thread. I have ran out of red and black, and I didn't want to delay the commission I had from monsieur Lyney. Do you have any right now?"

"Red and black thread, hm? I can check at the back. Please give me a moment to look."

With a bow, the seamstress turned around to leave. With that, I let go of the breath I held and turned my gaze back to the bridge, just a few ways away from where my beloved sunset was at.

Watching the two figures, I couldn't help but simply stared at the attire that the heir wore.

Montsuki Haori Hakama: that usually means black or gray. I've known that colored kimonos were not worn with this in mind, and he certainly didn't wore anything that would be too straining.

Still, that shade of black is made of high quality. I'm not surprised if he wore it so rarely, as though to preserve the detail and its intricate work from his very own seamstress.

...

I wonder if I can take it?

Watching the two descend from the bridge, my eyes wandered back to the lady as she returned with the spools of thread, all varying in degrees of color and quality.

"Here you are, Kaedehara! These are the best I can find that fit the colors you asked for."

My eyes twinkled as I took the spools to my hands, my fingers turning and nudging the thread to see just how strong it is.

Interesting. Good quality, too... Maybe I can use this to finish that outfit I've been saving for a while.

"Thank you, madame," I thanked her, making her laugh. "Oh, it's not a problem, Kaedehara! You've done so much for this little town of ours, this is but a simple thing to repay for your efforts!"

With a nod, I paid the seamstress and turned back down to descend from the bustling upper part of the town, the sight of what happened in the bridge a bit further away bothering me from within.

No matter, Kazuha, I mused, carrying the items I required as I felt myself walk back home. Even if you want to get rid of him, it will be much too complicated. You simply need to be patient and wait till the opportunity comes.

...

Although, whoever made his clothes... I wonder if I can speak to them to inquire about their techniques.

The first case that started this was a cold one.

One that is related to a person no one knew so highly about, be it by their background, appearance, and even their name. All they were known for is being the 'tailor' for one of the clans.

There had been a lack of evidence and information about this due to how many tailors had been requested all across Inazuma at the time. It was understandable that people chalked up to them being missing as nothing more than an unfortunate case, not one worthy of being dug into.

Others had suspected that it had been associated with something else, that something (or someone) had done this deliberately. There was no evidence to this, but their claims were loud as they were bold, making it difficult to ascertain its authenticity.

However, the masses have all agreed that this was a normal occurrence. It was not one worth noting, because there had been a lot more that spoke of the same tale, always eluding to their fate being that they were murdered.

It was, unfortunately, the 'norm' of the village in the legend. A norm that, if the people of Inazuma heard it today, would have turned their heads in disgust for how abhorrent it sounds.

Still, many remained curious of the biggest what if that seem to echo in their mind.

Was the tailor associated with his sins?

The Kamisato clan has had it's ups and downs, and it isn't strange to see that they were seeking out talented tailors and workers to work under them.

What was surprising (to everyone), however, was that the head of the clan hired me to work as the Kamisato Clan's personal tailor.

The reasoning behind it was quite simple, especially with what the heir spoke to me when he and I met in the morning when I was to be summoned in the estate— due to his personal tailor (a family friend, he said) going missing for days, they were unable to track down his whereabouts and presumed that he has gone missing.

I was only hired as a "replacement" for the clan's special tailor till then, and he made it extremely clear that there was nothing else to it. Nothing that would spell the fact that I will permanently stay in that position.

Of course, to many, this may sound as an odd deal. There are so many tailors such as myself that would die to be consulted on, to work as the head of the clan's seamstress and work for their outfits. And perhaps, in their naivety, they may consider it as their efforts finally paying off in some way.

However, I have been in a clan myself before. This is nothing more if not a business deal.

A deal between one rising clan, and one whose surname has lost it's widely known heritage.

This only benefits the Kamisato Clan in the effort to save face. To save face of the potential backlash they'll deal with should any information of the missing clan's tailor be brought to light to everyone who remain blissfully ignorant of the innerworkings of the clan.

I would normally deny this kind of offer, mostly because there is no benefit for me to join and work for them. However, times have changed, and I simply reconsidered denying Kamisato Ayato's offer.

... There is a few benefits to me joining. It may be minimal, but it is better than scrounging around in the dark.

And so, I agreed to the offer.

The arrangements set for me to move was quite swift. I'm aware that that he is a man of his word, so it was quite easy for us to prepare my living arrangements and move to the estate.

With the supplies I get from the clan, it's been easy to stay put and gather information to the person I'm targeting.

... That was, until that day came.

I remember it clearly: it was the ends of fall, where the maple leaves fell more and more around the estate's grounds. This usually signified the coming of winter, so I usually savor the season by having time off to admire the scenery.

And in one of my walks, I had travelled from outside of the estate to see if things have changed.

Which, to my luck, I've encountered my darling beloved.

But just like last time, they were not alone.

In the journey of my wandering, I have seen them speak to the sibling of the older heir, Kamisato Ayaka, as they sit on the table outside of the Komore Teahouse.

From how far I am to the entrance of the teahouse, it gives me enough space to watch them interact like friends. The way that the Himegimi raised her fan to cover her face, perhaps from her eyes crinkling in amusement from what they told her...

... It was intriguing. Very intriguing.

So much so that I've felt the claws of envy grip in my chest, clutching its metal nails and making punctures on my already bleeding heart.

What a nuisance. Must you hurt me like this, darling?

I can hardly remember what happened after that. After all, my focus had been set on the two speaking to each other like they were simply companions, unknowing of what fate may bring upon them.

...

"Oh? Kazuha! I didn't notice you came to the Teahouse as well!"

My attention was swiftly pulled away from the sight of my dearest gem, and it landed on the familiar sight of olive eyes. From the appearance alone, many wouldn't think that an immigrant of Mondstadt would be a fixer.

Not even I would be able to see it happen.

However, this man had the skills to prove of his worth— after all, being Inazuma's 'fixer', he's often the go-to man to fix any and every problem that the Narukami Island and others may face.

Which makes him a glass canon— one that is volatile and unpredictable, even under the guise of a friendly face.

That is what Thoma is.

But this "glass cannon" has his weakness, and I know how to use it to my advantage.

Letting a smile slip to my lips, I chuckled, raising my hand to cover my mouth. "Well, I've been foretold by others about Komore Teahouse and it's history. I've been meaning to visit it, but I'm so busy fixing kimonos and making them to have time to spare."

A white lie, but then again, there are many of those that have been foretold in the waking of this world.

What does adding one do at this point? I'm already damned by the heavens the day I've seen the 'truth' of this fate of mine.

Just one lie wouldn't hurt, right?

"Haha, I can't blame you," the taller blonde seem to answer my query with his own, albeit he did seem to look more like he was at ease. Still, I needed to be weary; he can change sides if he so much as sensed that something is wrong.

"After all, with what the missing tailor in the clan circulating around the others in the estate, I'm even surprised that you manage to fill up in their position for months!"

... Oh? So he's noticed my talents, hm?

I shook my head.

"Oh, please. I'm just a humble tailor, Thoma," I reasoned, letting out a heavy sigh. "I have thought of asking them for advice on how they do their work, but since they're missing, all I can do is substitute for their absence."

He gave me an apologetic smile and nodded.

"That is true... I guess I'm just a bit too ecstatic to finally have someone that can fill in their role seamlessly. Lord Kamisato Ayato would've been panicking if we didn't have a replacement soon for his anniversary with his spouse."

... Spouse, huh?

"Hm... Is that so?"

I frowned in thought as I ponder over wanting to... Ask him for a favor. Sure, this one wouldn't do well on one's conscious mind if they knew, but it was simply for their sake.

It was all for them. I knew that.

It wouldn't hurt anyone if I asked Thoma to do this for me. At least, while I still have the chance to do so.

I can only hope the cannon does not think of shooting it's shot to me if I slipped up.

"Speaking of, Thoma, may I ask you for a favor?"

After the first missing case of the tailor, there had been more that were reported. The victims were all varied in their appearance, age, and even from where they used to live, be it in Narukami Island or even outside of Inazuma itself.

It was difficult to tell how many there were exactly, especially with how the legend is interpreted. Some said it was 20, while others said it was 50. This legend has been passed mouth to mouth, so details were not a key figure for a few to remember well.

However, every iteration has the same detail. The victims all had the same similarity as the tailor that simply went "missing".

All of them, in some way, were associated with certain individuals— one of them being his maple, where a few commented that they were the apple of the crimson man's eye.

From the legend and how it has been told, it is safe to assume that the motive was obvious from the first missing case.

It is akin of an open secret, if said secret was twisted to fit his ideals.

"Haven't you heard?"

"What? What is it?"

"The fixer, Thoma… He went missing just few days ago."

"What!?"

…

Ah, so he went missing like the others?

My ears had perked up at the news that we were told. Although Thoma is one many people never thought of being a 'target', the fact he went missing is... Odd.

"Perhaps he had done something," I heard one of the servants whisper amongst themselves, looking rather cautious. "After all, he's been very privy on a few things..."

"Yes, but he isn't the person I'd expect to vanish like that—"

"Shh—! People are going to hear you, you know! Keep it down!"

Hearing their footsteps echo as they take their leave, I turned back to what I have been working on. The sight of the kimono graced my vision as I raised the needle.

I began to sew the tears on it, letting out a soft hum while I fixed the black fabric from it's horrible state.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut—

"Sir Kaedehara? Someone is looking for you."

...!

I felt the needle prick my finger, but I didn't say anything. With a quiet hum, I raised my head to see someone speak to me, their face grim as they shifted on their feet.

Ah.

Despite the feeling of blood pour onto the fabric, I smiled and nodded, putting down the fabric of the kimono I was fixing.

"I'll be right there. Please tell them to wait for me."

"Really? Oh, thank Archons. I'll get going."

Watching them take their leave, my eyes flit over to my scissors.

Still as sharp as ever, I mused, pushing myself to stand up before fixing my attire. Mayhaps today won't need it to be sharpened.

For now, I had to see what the client wants from me. It would simply be a shame if I leave them alone for far, far too long.

Mayhaps they're here to inquire about the kimono I made. I made sure to add my personal touch to it.

...

As I walked to where my client sought to look for me, I see a familiar sight befell in the grounds of the Kamisato Estate.

The himegimi is currently speaking to my betrothed like they are close companions, and the magician (Lyney was his name, I recall), had been listening to their discussion at hand.

His eyes seem to lit up when he saw me, offering me a welcoming grin.

"You must be the tailor that my sister assigned, aren't you?" he asked when I was close enough to hear him, making me chuckle. Taking a seat across, I simply nodded, keeping my professional smile and demeanor in fear of offending him.

"Indeed, I am that tailor. My name is Kaedehara Kazuha, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"Haha, please, the pleasure is all mine!"

The magician shook my hand with mine, and the meeting went as smoothly as one may expect. Although, I couldn't help but let my eyes wander sometimes to where my lover is.

You were speaking to Ayaka like she's a friend of yours. I shan't stop you, darling, but perhaps you aren't aware of the pain you put me through.

Still, I couldn't afford to raise my voice, nor can I think of hurting you with my actions.

How unfortunate. Mayhaps I need to teach you a lesson myself, my angel.

If there was one thing that the legend failed to elaborate, it is the state of the missing people. However, there were... Creative liberties to those that began to see if the legend was true; or, pray tell, associated with any real life events.

To the eyes of others, going missing is a serious deal. It sparks a lot of ideas for what could've happened to them, and especially if they are alive or dead.

Albeit many shrugged off the prior cases, this one was serious. After all, the one that went 'missing' is the fixer of Narukami Island— Thoma, the immigrant in the nation of lightning.

It is, after all, what sparked the eventual downfall of the crimson-eyed tailor and his beloved. Many had thought this was the turning point, but those that did were found to be wrong.

This, after all, was simply the beginning of such downfall. But it wasn't to his lover, the missing residents, or even his companions.

It was to himself, when he used the blades to commit a sin undeserving of forgiveness.

The news that brought upon the missing Himegimi greeted the Kamisato estate that day.

I remember how people were in a disarray. They were much more shaken as they tried to get any sort of lead to where she is, and for some, they were already thinking of quitting.

The estate is already shaken from when Thoma went missing, but now that the young heiress has up and disappeared— especially in winter— it was in chaos.

While I sew the kimonos handed to me, there was an obi that laid on the pile by my right. It was a bit worn, but it can still be saved.

I needed to fix it, and give it my own personal touch. That way, it wouldn't look as though it had been abandoned by it's past owner.

Alas, the noise is getting to me. I could feel the silk resting on my bandaged hand slip every once in a while, if it weren't for how tight I've been holding the fabric.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

I needed to put my focus on what I'm doing. I needed to focus on the job.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

I mustn't let blood nor dirt stain my creations.

That is what my mother taught me.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, se—

"I apologize if the estate is in a disarray, detective," I hear a familiar voice speak amongst the hushed and panicked whispers. "The estate hasn't been the same ever since my retainer and my younger sibling had gone missing."

"Oh, it's alright! I'm sure this matter is too serious for you and the others to keep things organized."

"Haha... You can say that it is. Now, it's just right this way..."

... A detective is in the estate. How curious.

It wasn't right to snoop, but I was curious. Curious enough to have finished the kimono I was fixing before I stood to leave my quarters.

The others paid no heed as I followed after the two to Ayato's room, too focused to do what they were assigned to even bat an eye when I got close to where they were heading.

It was only when they were inside that I've stopped and simply bid my time, my focus set on what was happening by the shoji leading to his office. And it didn't took long till I hear things from the other side.

"Ah, so you think that someone is out for you?"

"Yes. Although I am normally adept in figuring out who it could be that's causing this to happen, I can't put heads or tails with how their presence eludes me."

"Man alive... And you said that it started when they went missing?"

"... Yes, detective."

"I see... Man alive, that sounds like it wasn't just a single, one-off case, then. I can help you, but this will take a while if there's no leads."

"I see. It's fine, detective. I'll pay you enough when you figure out where my retainer and sister are. I could hardly think that someone would take them without such consequence."

"Oh, no worries. With me around, no criminal will get out unscathed— I'll make sure to bring them here when I figure out who did this."

...

I see.

Perhaps its about time I have to settle this with him.

There was a time where I have thought that things will change.

Where these cases will be laid forgotten, perhaps even unresolved with the lack of hints.

I spent weeks on end, keeping my tracks short and erasing any leads that can lead towards me again.

I spent so, so long trying so desperately to hide anything resembling my crimes.

But alas... He found me.

It was the time where I had to dispose of those bodies. Although I had no heart to bury them under nature, I was not above treating them as though they were simply people.

Even in death, I wanted to make them feel like they look peaceful. Although, perhaps simply sewing their wounds left by my scissors was not something I can treat.

In the middle of the night, I was carrying the Himegimi outside of the abandoned houses I tend to with her retainer, Thoma. I had thought of letting her rest someplace else. Her attire has been sullied, and I needed to keep the two somewhere where no one can find them.

Corpses rot over time, and if it was possible, letting them turn to nothing in the likes of Tsurumi Island will be enough for my weary heart to rest.

With how adept I am of keeping my tracks hidden, I had thought no one would be able to tail on me. But alas, due to the missing cases I've caused, perhaps I wasn't expecting this to happen.

"I knew you'd be here, Kaedehara Kazuha."

I simply paused upon hearing his voice, my head craning back to see that it was Ayato. Despite how composed he looks, I can tell that the nights he spent trying to search for his beloved sibling and retainer wore him down.

His once flawless appearance was nothing but sullied, his attire feeling like its simply hanging off of him, and the way he staggered while looking at me without a shred of restrain is new. Raw for such a heir.

"And that body..." he murmured, his eyes glaring daggers when he found out who it was.

Perhaps it's her dress that makes her recognizable. Or the hair.

"... I thought I've erased everything that can lead back to me," I spoke, sighing as I placed Ayaka's body down. "What a shame. I was quite close to erasing any traces and signs of their whereabouts. It would be nice to only have them be marked as 'missing', not dead."

"So... You admit to it, then?" the heir asked, walking over with stride. "That you have done this, Kaedehara?"

I simply said nothing.

And I knew that was enough of a confirmation for him.

"I knew something was wrong with you," I heard him speak, which caught my attention. Turning my body to finally face him, I watched as he scoffed and continued, "After all, a man as serene as you often had the worst to hide."

"Oh? How curious. Why would you say that?"

I saw his lips curl to a smile.

"Why, I had someone tail after you," he answered, his tone sounding so blunt and his demeanor became more like he's simply 'teaching' me something. "Someone that is associated with the clan. I'm sure you know who it is."

... How uncouth.

"I see... And you confronted me now? For what?"

"A duel."

He unsheathed his blade, and raised it towards my direction.

"I do not usually participate in these, but I'd like to honor your tradition. If I win, you turn yourself in to the Tenryou Commission. Confess all of your crimes, and we shall call it even."

"... Very well."

I raised my own blade, as a sign to his own.

"I needn't state my own terms if I lose, as I can't let you get out alive. Now, let us settle this matter... To each of our graves."

Usually, such details cannot be recreated from interpretation alone.

However, this one was the few exceptions to it's inevitable fate due to it's popularity.

The legend had focused on keeping the existence and ties of the Crimson-Eyed Tailor up for the listener's interpretation. This scene, however, was directly associated to a case that had been tackled many years ago.

The case went as such: each resident of a town goes missing each week. No one knows when it happens, as the day is often random. The victims of these disappearances are also random, so no one could derive from it being a 'pattern'.

No matter how young or old one is, their gender, their living conditions, and even their past... When they least expect it, they simply vanish. Erased.

The only times where the victim was found, several eye-witnesses had different iterations. Some said that the bodies were buried, while others found it floating by riverbanks and the side of the sea.

But the most common— and widely known, of course— was that each victim were made to a doll.

Their limbs were nothing if not sewn with thread, cuts of various degrees being patched with thread of similar color to 'mask' it's oddity. Their eyes were closed, but those that were unfortunate to open it were only greeted with it being turned to the back of their heads.

In some victims, several pieces of their possession were taken. However, most kept theirs on their person, and were seen to not be tampered with.

No one knows what drove someone to this degree. No one can even comprehend such a fact that it was entirely possible.

But to someone who's mind was twisted to the point of no return... It was.

This case had a name, but every resident of Inazuma refused to speak of it. Each time one does, they were told of the legend behind this case.

They were told of the Crimson-Eyed Tailor, and they were warned of one thing.

"Do not look at him or his betrothed. If you do, you're as good as dead."

...

It had been a year since our fight happened.

I remember the chaos that occurred back when I finally erased that man. Although it did left his body in an undesirable state, I still fixed and sew him up so that he didn't look as such.

Even in death, I wish to give the heir some form of dignity. That, in some way, I wish to give him his final respects.

After all, he had simply misunderstood my intentions. He didn't knew that I was out for one person from the very beginning.

The downfall of the Kamisato Clan was imminent at that point. I've seen many flee, and witnessed the tragedy befall on the Narukami Island. Many of the people I've met had simply ran off to seek refuge, the terror grasping and choking them like they were unable to think.

However, I remain clear. And I simply continued to do my work diligently.

I have been working on something... Special. And with one last snip of my bloodied scissors, it was now complete.

My final and life-long work, all laid across and now in my hands. The fabric I chose was rather difficult to sew. I should have known that human skin would be too hard, depending on where I retrieved it from.

Dying it in black, I wrapped the obi that had been sewn with the use of the Himegimi's locks, and retrieved the crest of the Kamisato Clan. Adorning it on my person, I viewed myself at the mirror to see my handiwork.

"Finally," I murmured, feeling an odd sensation in my chest as I wore the fruits of my labor. "It is now complete."

With the chaos guiding me and masking my presence, I fled to head by the mountain.

I knew where you were bound to go.

I knew of your crimes long before you knew me.

I didn't paid much attention if anyone saw me. I didn't care if blood simply poured from my attire and to the ground that I'm walking on. I could hardly give a damn if some realized of my crimes in that blasted estate.

I had my scissors with me, and I only wish to fulfill my last wish before I leave this cursed world.

You murdered my family, [Name].

You were the one who caused that fire all those years ago.

I remember those burns you gave me. I remember just how much of a coward you were, fleeing from the scene you caused yourself.

How could I lose everything? And how can you keep your family?

No. No, that mustn't happen. I must set this right.

As your 'lover', I'll make sure you understand what you did wrong.

The culprit of the legend was caught, at least by the end.

All of the townsfolk had banded over to help the detective figure out who had caused such a stir, and it was only because of one eye-witness that said everything. That simply told the truth of the man behind it all.

It was the Crimson-Eyed Tailor, the one who was gripped with envy, that caused such a massacre to occur.

When they found what became of the last victim, his 'lover', they became a doll of his own. After killing them, the legend proceeded to speak of how he had simply 'sown' their skin alongside his, making them his perfect beloved doll.

One of the iterations even mentioned that his unnamed lover was in a Shiromuku outfit, eyes gouged so they may "never look at another man". At least, from what the tale has concluded.

Because of the severity of his crime, the tailor was sent to be on his death row. When the detective tried to get information out of him, they found out that he has lost his mind.

He became a shell of the brilliant man they knew, laughing and speaking that he has finally fulfilled his desire.

Even when he was dragged onto the guillotine, that day was marked as the end of the massacre, and those who were alive spoke of the man's chilling laughter up until his head was cut off.

...

And that was the end of the "Crimson-Eyed Tailor" and his legend.

Or, more accurately, the history of the known "Dead Man's Heart" case, and how Kaedehara Kazuha murdered the one he "loved" for revenge.

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2023

347 notes · View notes

sparksandspells · 26 days

Text

for all our days and all our trials // the damen/laurent wedding fic

When Laurent set out to plan a royal wedding between two 1) men, who are 2) actively ruling kings, of 3) tenuously peaceful lands, with 4) widely-known reasons to have killed, or possibly 5) still kill each other, he expected the process to come with a few difficulties. He did not expect getting his perpetually amorous new husband aroused on their wedding night to be the hardest of them. (Or: ‘Not in front of the court,' said Laurent, as if this were unspeakably foolish, 'in front of the Council.’)

Read on AO3.

it's here!! it's done!! after three years of sporadic work, it's finally out in the world!! 😭😭😭 i may be biased but this is my favorite thing i've ever written and i'm so excited to finally share it with everyone!!

big huge thanks to @ming85, @delilahsdaydream, and @i-am-a-story-goblin for responding to my call for betas two years ago; y'all's suggestions made the fic way better than it would've been otherwise. (a round of applause especially for ming85, who saved an ancient tapestry from the horror of grass stains and generally made the wedding event much more kingly than i, in my infinite unwordliness, had intended to.)

thanks also to @damiaanos for being my wall to bounce things off of more recently as i finally committed to getting this thing done no matter what. legitimately don't know how i would've managed it without your excellent balance of "you can do it" and "it's fine, stop stressing". if any other perfectionists are reading this, find people like that, they're great.

shoutout to @slecnaztemnot for throwing me the idea of putting Loyse on the Council when i had been stuck on the fifth member for a year, and gratitude to @kingsrising for being a visible fandom hub that i could turn to when i needed community and had no idea where to look for it

fandom is the best and i'm really excited to start being a more active part of capri's

as i mentioned, i've been talking about this fic on tumblr for over two years, so i will now proceed to tag every person who interacted with either of those posts, on the off chance that they would appreciate receiving an update on this fic that is now a real thing that they can go read (if they wish to, obvi)

from the kingsrising ask: @ladykyrin, @afantasyghost, @gildedgaze, @westealtoys, @timburtonknewmyoceans

@plushdragon, @blue-eyed-korra, @foreverskies29, @bumblebee-whiskey, @stardust-at-midnightt,

@brinkleyheights, @lavendercoded, @meraki-ii, @nonothatsano, @not-a-coral-snake

and from the call for betas: @caeli-phantomhive, @laurents-laces, @jaks21, @auroralunasoleil, @captaindamianos

@airebellah, @certainbirdkitty

@marrieddorks, @i-want-delfeur, @morgenti, @goose-fish, @farrukh-schumann,

@theoverlyenthusiasticwriter, @p1n4ta, @deleteitold, @lovelovelove, @hennike

@nczakiis, @theoraclephobetor, @angelshineyourlightonme, @naisvalta, @pienenpienileppakerttu,

@aristosakielon, @foreverfraancis, @fangirlfortress, @whynotme12, @naturaldisaster,

@gutstrings, @dreamerthief18, @aladybetween2majors, @k04, @burntpercy

#captive prince #laurent of vere #damianos x laurent #lamen #damianos of akielos #captive prince fic #mine #my writing #ok TAKE TWO let's try this again #apparently tumblr prevents new accounts from appearing in tags or mentioning people #which seems like a reasonable tactic to prevent spam or w/e but i kinda WISH I WOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT before posting this the first time #so apologies if you've been tagged twice i promise i'm not trying to spam you i'm just 97% sure nobody got a notification a week ago #anyway so far the response to this fic has been incredibly lovely <3 #someone said my writing was 'exquisite' so. y'know. *flips hair*

48 notes · View notes

luaspersona · 2 years

Text

Snow Flower | kth (m)

pairing ↠ himbo!taehyung x reader (f. reader)

genre ↠ college!au; holiday!au; smut; humor; fluff; strangers to almost lovers to idiots to lovers; one-shot.

summary ↠ after making some terrible memories together, Taehyung wants nothing more than to never see you again; and he was pretty much succeeding — until he finds himself having to spend Christmas alone with you in the middle of nowhere.

rating ↠ +18

warnings ↠ taehyung is bi y’all; alcohol consumption; sexual tension; taehyung is a menace but he’s also stupid; some religious jokes are made; some kink shaming (tae is lowkey offended by furry kink?? idek); minor accident; very minor parent issues (this is really in the background, but i was going through stuff and writing it helped); a bunch of Christmas movies talk; taehyung is scared of grinch lol (i'm serious 💀); second hand embarrassment; pov switch; explicit smut (the warnings are long as fuck, so beware).

smut warnings 👀↠ mentions of anal; masturbation; orgasm denial; orgasm control; a whole lot of teasing; edging; dirty talk; pet names; soft dom!taehyung; switch!reader; fingering; light pussy slapping; nipple play; oral (f. and m. receiving); choking on cock; tae has a huge dick ‘cus it’s christmas and we deserve it; unprotected sex (pls don't do it. this is unhinged fiction); praise kink; marking; biting; light spanking; a splash of degradation (he calls reader a slut once); reader has sensitive thighs; tae has stamina for days; so much begging; a bit of overstimulation 'cus taehyung is a man on a mission; multiple orgasms; squirting; creampie; cum eating; it’s rough but it’s also super silly; they joke during sex, it's ridiculous; aftercare.

teaser ↠ (wc:0.8k) read it before to make sure this is for you ♡

word count ↠ 22k (7.5k are just smut y'all, i went off 🥴)

estimated reading time ↠ 60 minutes

note ↠ just wanna come out and say that i listened to mistletoe an unhealthy amount of times to get into the mood to write this and i think i’m damaged for life. also, i know it’s march lol, but i went through some shit™️ while writing this and it took some time to get back on track. to be honest, i almost gave up on this fic at least once a week, and it was hard as fuck to finish it. i struggled a lot with the plot until i was actually satisfied, but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out.

note² ↠ if this fic is finished, i have to thank @uarmymoonlight for lowkey bullying me into seeing this story through, always ready to motivate and help me brainstorm and fix plot points. you know i love you, and i hope you get a himbo to yourself one day. also wanna thank @vsualitae for being such a sweet listener, and for helping me through writer's block. you’re amazing, and i will cherish you forever, please don't give up on me because i'm terrible at replying.

note³ ↠ thank you again for @imakeamess for the amazing banner!

playlist ↠ this is what i think reader and tae’s playlist would look like

navigation | masterlist | permanent taglist | tell me your thoughts ♡

Jungkook suffering a car accident two days before Christmas was honestly so damn selfish of him.

It took five whole weeks of mature conversations (read: Jungkook calling Taehyung a pathetic little baby before resorting to messaging Taehyung’s mom) to convince Taehyung to go on this stupid Christmas trip to the middle of nowhere, only for Jungkook to think it’d be funny to drive his shit ass car straight against a light pole barely five minutes out of Soojin's dorm parking lot.

“You won’t be alone with her,” the asshole promised “Soojin and I will be there too”.

On top of that, Jungkook had the nerve to first go through a bunch of x-rays and cat scans before letting you and Taehyung — already settled in the shit chalet Soojin rented — know that him and Soojin would have to wait the 26th for the next bus to the hell hole that they mistook as a city, because no one in their right minds would willingly come here.

Well, of course Taehyung should’ve known that there was no way he could spend time in the same environment as you without wanting to kill himself: with or without Jungkook and Soojin, being reminded of your existence makes Taehyung feel nothing but nausea.

…

Ok, maybe he should rephrase that.

It’s not that he hates you, or anything. In fact, when Taehyung met you, hate was pretty much the opposite of what he was feeling. That night, in the frat’s living room, surrounded by dozens of other bodies as you danced to a song so loud he couldn’t even recognize, Taehyung swore you were the hottest, most sensual person he had ever seen.

It was one of the first times Taehyung went completely sober to a frat party, the only alcohol in his lips being the one he sucked straight out of your tongue. The choice of going teetotal had to do with the terrible lunch he made earlier that day that still rumbled in his stomach as he kissed down your chest (quick unrelated question: how much mayonnaise are you supposed to use in the pudding recipe to replace heavy whipping cream?).

Naturally, he couldn’t have thrown up before he went to the party — no, no, his stomach had to wait until you were straddling and grinding on him in one of the house’s empty bedrooms to push his excuse of a dessert out of his mouth.

Taehyung was pretty damn good at making up excuses to avoid people he slept with. But with you? He barely saw your tits and no fucking excuses were needed.

It took around two months for him to find his will to live again, and things started to go back to normal — until Jungkook started to date Soojin, that is. Don’t get him wrong, Taehyung loves Soojin and how she makes Jungkook happy and all that bullshit, he just hates the fact that she also happens to be your roommate.

[10:36] taehyung: jungkook how could u

[10:37] taehyung: i can’t believe u right now, istg

[10:37] taehyung: u could’ve come by bus with me, but nooooo

[10:37] taehyung: u absolutely HAD to suffer a fucking accident now, didn’t u??

[10:38] taehyung: i’ll never leave this room

[10:38] taehyung: if i don't die of shame before u are arrive, u are dead to me

[typing] taehyung: btw F for u and all, hope your leg’s fine, i lov

A loud thud startles Taehyung, making him drop his phone on the bed.

He waits a second to make sure his heart is still beating before slowly getting up and leaving his room. He steps around some bags placed on the floor near your chosen bedroom to reach the open front door.

Taehyung first notices your car parked near the house with the trunk open, before his eyes descend to your sprawled form on the icy ground, your head snapping up when he calls your name with a confused frown.

“Oh. Hi, Taehyung.”

“Wait, that sound was you slipping? Shit, you ok? Can you get up?”

“Yeah!” You assure, before he can cross the threshold. “Yes, don’t worry.”

You shift on the ground, but as soon as you place your hands behind you for leverage, your face turns into a grimace.

“Fuck”.

“What?”

You don’t answer, instead trying to find different ways to get up while avoiding moving your left arm, and failing adorably every time as the thickness of your clothes restrains your movements.

“Ok, maybe I can’t get up.” You slump back, sighing.

He closes his coat and changes from his slippers quickly, sidestepping the frozen paths to make his way to you.

When Taehyung crouches by your side he is taken by a sudden urge to swallow his fist. As if the whole situation wasn’t already perfect, you simply had to become even prettier than the last time he saw you. Are you some kinda wine or something? Why the hell you gotta be so gorgeous for?

“Should I…” he starts “uhm, sorry, can I touch you?” Has his voice always been this high?

You nod, and Taehyung automatically starts to rub his hands together.

“What you doing?”

“My hands are cold.”

“I’m… laying on ice.” Your face softens with amusement.

He pauses.

“Right.”

He grabs your upper arms and helps you to your feet, stepping away as soon as you’re standing.

“Thanks.”

You take your hand to your upper arm briefly, letting out a low hiss.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, think I hit my shoulder.”

“That sucks for you… damn.” He eloquently says.

You glance back at your car, slowly walking back to it. Taehyung assumes you’re going to close the trunk, but when you lean to secure a bag he calls for you once again.

“What you doing?”

“There’s more stuff to take.”

“What? You’ll hurt your shoulder.”

“Did that already.”

“Stop that, let me do it.”

“No, it’s—” you look at the luggage in front of you when he comes to your side “it’s kinda heavy.”

Taehyung chuckles through his shattered ego.

“I can manhandle just fine.” He cringes as soon as he says it.

“... Right.” You clear your throat. “I got Soojin’s stuff too, and I’m pretty sure Jungkook put some of his shit in before I closed it.”

Your roommate’s name rings some bells in Taehyung’s head, and he realizes that this is the longest you two have talked since he… well, y’all know it by now, no need to keep remembering.

“Just tell me where you want them.”

You reluctantly step away from the car, and Taehyung takes a deep breath: he can’t afford to further embarrass himself in front of you, and maybe it’ll be a good opportunity to make some new, healthier, memories with you.

There are only two things that could explain why Taehyung’s forehead vein is almost popping from carrying a few bags and boxes for less than ten minutes.

First: he should consider finding the fastest way out of here because you brought bodies for a Christmas trip.

But then, this isn't really fair because he sure never had problems handling some bodies before.

…

Shit, that came out terrible. Just to be clear: he means in sex.

Which brings him to the second possible explanation: Taehyung should probably start tagging along Jungkook to the gym, because holy fuck why are things foggy?

The worst, of course, is that you’re watching him, and there’s only so much panting someone can get away with without sounding on the verge of death, so Taehyung does his best to swallow his grunts as he crosses the living room to drop a bag near your bedroom door.

“Taehyung?” You ask, and wow. You look so pretty surrounded by little white spots. Who would’ve thought.

“Yeah.” He gasps.

“You ok?”

“Absolutely! Why you ask?” His laugh sounds more like asthmatic breathing than anything else.

He blinks a few times to try and see you with some definition, and he's like, 63% sure you just furrowed your brows.

“The last thing is Soojin’s gift to Jungkook, so you can leave it there and I’ll help you get it later.”

“What? I got everything else already, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, and thank you for it, but—”

“Really, no sweat. Where?”

You consider him for a second, sighing when you point to the spot between the window and the fireplace.

“Can you place it there?”

Taehyung nods before he returns outside, carefully making his way to the car and sitting on the open trunk as soon as you’re out of view.

He can't pass out. He looked it up before and changing names is way too expensive.

So, instead, he turns to the last thing you brought: a large box, enveloped in a wrapping paper so ugly he immediately knows Jungkook chose it. He adjusts himself to grab it, but almost sobs as he realizes it’s the heaviest yet.

He takes a deep breath and secures it in his hold, sprinting back inside, blessed enough not to fall (because the universe couldn’t possibly be that cruel). He rushes to the spot you indicated and sets the box down, unable to prevent the most ridiculous little whimper to leave his lips.

“... Taehyung.”

“Again, I’m fine, it was pretty light actually.” He says, but inhales so loud that he’s sure he sucked all the room's air.

“That was a drum set you just carried.”

“... what.”

“Soojin bought Jungkook a drum set. I think it weighs about 55kg.” You explain, biting back a smile.

“Well. As I said, no biggie.” Please don’t faint. Please don’t faint. Please don’t faint. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Oh. Kinda sore, but I'm fine.”

“Great.” He slowly gets up, swinging to his room. “I’ll go uh, unpack.”

If you say anything after that, Taehyung doesn't hear it, closing the door to his room and crashing onto the bed. He spreads his arms wide and lets out a long, tortuous breath.

He allows his body to relax for a second, dazedly looking up. He’s not sure if his vision is now compromised, if he’s about to pass out or if there’s mold in the room’s ceiling.

Hum.

The price of this place starts to make more sense by the second.

A notification draws his attention to his phone beside him.

[10:58] kookie: just try not to puke on her and you’ll be fine (;

Here’s something people don’t tell you about fuckboys: they are often really lonely and depressed.

…

Oh, no— not Taehyung, though, he’s just fine.

He enjoys the simplicity of getting his dick wet and the minimal brain power it takes to flirt.

Besides, people say love makes you stupid and Taehyung promised Jungkook he’d try to be less of that. So yeah, he likes to cuddle and maybe do some of that stupid corny shit sometimes, but as soon as the knot in his stomach starts to feel a hell lot like butterflies he’s dipping out.

The sound of your door closing across the hall snaps him out of his mind. Fucking finally!

Jumping out of his bed, Taehyung furtively exits his room, dragging his feet towards the kitchen. It takes around ten minutes of opening and digging into cabinets for him to remember Soojin was the one assigned with bringing the food.

He opens the fridge, hopeful that maybe the host left something before vacating the house, but he’s met with nothing but a half empty milk bottle (that looks a hell of a lot like yogurt when he shakes it, and even he knows that’s not a good sign) and an unopened beer can.

He rubs his chin, considering his options, but starving or walking on an empty stomach under negative temperatures feels like a whole new level of dumb and he sure doesn’t wanna die with dry ass lips. So, alternatively, after a quick second of quietly and tearlessly sobbing, Taehyung brings himself to knock on your bedroom door.

When you open it he— wait, were you going to sleep? The puffiness around your cheeks and the way you lazily look at him makes Taehyung think so. Also, there’s the fact you’re wearing a pajama set, cute little bears drawn all over your legs.

“Taehyung?” He snaps his eyes up.

“Uh, the nearest town is an hour away on foot.” He blurts, gulping at the way his name sounded laced in your raspy I’ve just woken up voice.

You frown.

“... right?”

He clears his throat; tries again.

“Soojin was supposed to bring the food, so there’s nothing for us to eat. I would grab something, but I think she booked a place near Earth’s butthole, ‘cus there’s nothing close.” You chuckle. Wait, you just… chuckled? Oh god, that must mean you think he's funny!, does that mean you think he's funny oh and your smile damn he feels like that's the first time he's seen your smile quick say something funnier oh wait, not— “But nothing like a good Christmas anal, right?”

Shit.

You open your mouth to say something, but he doesn’t wait for you to react before adding, “sorry. I don’t know why I said that, I mean,” he snickers nervously “only crazy people do anal.” You close your mouth immediately, and Taehyung fights the urge to cry — the fuck is he saying? “I mean, that’s not— I don’t, uhm— I do anal all the time!” He can't tell if he's laughing or crying at this point. “Oh my god, I—”

“Taehyung?” He promptly shuts up. “I think I got it.” Your tone is teasing, but he doesn’t dare meet your eyes as heat creeps up his neck.

“Sorry.”

“What were you saying before? About the food?”

“Right!” He lets out a relieved sigh, shaking his head to try and remember what he was saying before deeming it important for you to know he does anal. “We don’t have any food so… would you mind uhm, driving me to go grocery shopping?”

“It’s not like I have any choice, right?” You let out a little laugh and oh, my god, he hopes that was just a terrible attempt at a joke. “Let me just change real quick, then we can go.”

“Ok.”

He turns back to his room before you even have time to close your door.

It takes around two minutes of screaming into his pillow for the embarrassment to die down. When he starts to change into more presentable clothes, Taehyung tries to remember where the fuck he dropped his brains before this trip.

The shithole Soojin rented is around twenty minutes from town, and Taehyung spends each one of them in pure agony.

Despite the fact that you were very comfortable, idly checking out the landscapes as your fingers tapped against the steering wheel leather, Taehyung was sure that you were seconds away from jumping out of the car to free yourself from the torture of his company. He couldn't stop wondering if he was breathing too loud, but his attempts to hold his breath quickly backfired when you kept asking why he was turning purple beside you.

Overall? Safe to say this weekend will be great!

Trying to get out of his head, he spots a convenience store a couple streets into town.

When he sets foot out of the car, Taehyung is glad you parked right in front, because holy shit, is cold as fuck. He wraps the coat tighter around him, but his shivering only stops after he steps into the establishment’s heating.

The place has only three aisles, barely stocked. A few fluorescent lamps cast the room in faint, clinical lightning and Taehyung spots a little fake Christmas tree over the counter. If art is about eliciting a reaction, whoever was responsible for decorating the place is a hell of an artist, because Taehyung feels immediately depressed.

You, on the other hand, don't seem bothered. In fact, you quietly take in the environment, and Taehyung anxiety goes nuts, ‘cus if you are not talking, then he has no clue of what you’re thinking and what you’re thinking scares the shit outta him.

His eyes travel around the shelves in an attempt to find something he can comment on, quickly grabbing a mini reindeer ornament kit while you set your purse between your knees to remove your thicker clothing.

“Hey, check this. Don’t know why people buy shit like that, it's not like reindeers even exist.”

He turns to you after laughing in the most ridiculous, unnatural way, but his smile drops immediately when he catches you folding your coat in your hands as a large — and corny as fuck — reindeer head stares back at him from your sweater.

You know what? He’s gonna own his shit talking ability as a talent, because it takes effort to be this clueless.

You look at him, bottom lip jutting out slightly before your gaze drops to your sweater.

“Damn, I’m sorry. Actually, I think reindeers are really cute, and it’s not like Santa is real anyway either.”

You frown “Taehyung?”

“Huh?”

“Are you serious?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know reindeers are real, right?”

“No, they are not. What you saying?” His brows knit together in his forehead. Your lips curve up in a smile before you start chuckling. He lets out a relieved sigh. “I knew you were just messing with me. Almost got me there.”

You shake your head as you keep laughing, but… wait— holy shit, reindeers are fucking real?! But what about the whole flying thing?

…

Well, damn.

On second thought, Taehyung should definitely be more scared of opening his mouth than he is of silence.

Your laughter melts into a large smile, before you glance around.

“Should we eat first?” You suggest, pointing to some tables near the large picture windows at front.

“Sure.” He agrees, still kinda thrown off.

You go to the cashier, asking for a menu. “What should we get?”

“Anything quick.”

“Ok. You good with ramen?” He nods and you order two bowls.

It takes no longer than five minutes for the server to bring the steaming instant food to your table.

Here’s another thing Taehyung’s just realized: keeping your mouth shut is a hell of a lot easier when your whole vision of life has just been challenged. What else is real?!

“God, this looks awful.” Your voice cuts through his existential crisis, eyes trained on the street outside the window.

“Huh?”

“There’s almost no one around and barely any decoration. Doesn’t even look like Christmas.”

“I mean, if I lived here I’d want to get the hell out for the holidays too, so.” Good! That was civilized.

“Fair”, you grant.

You tilt the bowl back a bit to drink some of the broth, giggling to yourself when you set it on the table again. “Have you ever wondered what Whoville would look like if Grinch had actually stolen Christmas?”

“What?”

“Like the Jim Carrey movie?” He nods, and you go on. “He wanted to ruin the town's Christmas spirit and shit. I think this town is what would happen if he succeeded.”

“I hate that movie.”

“Why?” You frown, but you still have a soft smile on your lips and Taehyung feels encouraged.

“A big green furry guy that uses onions as deodorant and commits arson? How the fuck is that a kid’s movie? I’m pretty sure anyone who likes Grinch is into furry or something” he snickers, “don’t know how that kinky shit can get people into their Christmas spirit.”

“You being hella judgy for someone who just found out reindeers are a thing.” You scoff.

Taehyung's smile drops.

“You… like Grinch?”

“It’s a classic, of course I like it!”

Taehyung groans, but the way your teeth nibble at your lip to hold back a smile makes him hesitate.

“Are you offended?”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” You’re so blatantly amused that even Taehyung could’t miss it — and he can’t help but open a large, boxy smile at your teasing.

“Damn, I’ve been saying all kinds of deranged shit the whole day, and Grinch is what gets to you?”

“It was all shits and giggles until you decided to come for my holiday movie.”

“Your holiday movie? Shit, all I’m hearing is you not denying your furry kink.”

You gape at him, “I do not have a furry kink! Grinch has a very important message and is a very nice, sweet Christmas story.”

“Except it’s terrifying and kinky as fuck,” your playfull pout earns a chuckle out of Taehyung “sorry to be the one to ruin your Christmas spirit, but it kinda feels like I did you a favour.”

“You have no place to say it.”

“Oh?”

“Ain’t your Christmas about anal or some shit?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, what about it?”

“How’s that a better way to get into your Christmas spirit?”

“Well,” he smirks “maybe you should try and see for yourself.”

You dismiss him with a laugh, and Taehyung feels something melting inside. Jesus fuck, what an infatuating sound.

Shaking your head, you finish the rest of you ramen before breaking the now comfortable silence between you.

“No, but for real. How do you do it?”

Taehyung frowns — but who is he to deny such information?

“I mean… if you must know, most people think you should start with pegging, but I think—”

“No! Why would I ask you about anal?” Oh my god, Taehyung needs to keep saying weird shit so you keep laughing like that.

“Of course, sorry, you know your stuff.”

“Maybe we should stop talking about anal.”

“You brought it up, just outright shaming me.”

“Ok, fair. My bad.”

He smiles, “what you wanna know?”

“How do you get into your holiday spirit?”

Taehyung slurps on his ramen before replying “uhm. I dunno if there’s a ritual or anything.”

“Like, when do you start to feel like it’s Christmas?”

“Usually when I get home.” Taehyung shrugs, but when his eyes meet yours and find an expectant glimmer swimming in your gaze, he makes an effort to think about it. “But it fully hits when me and my sister decorate the tree or when my mum bakes cookies.”

“That seems nice.”

“My birthday is on the 30th though, so I guess it’s kinda natural to me in a way.”

“Huh. So you’re almost Jesus.”

“Now, that’s something I’ve never heard before.” He chuckles.

“Too sinful?” You taunt, and he bites.

“Something like that. Wouldn’t pass being nailed in a cross, though.”

“Holy shit.” Your laugh sends a smile to his face. “Don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Didn’t he die so we could sin? Just doing my part.”

“Pretty sure that wasn’t it.” You shake your head, groaning dramatically. “You gonna ruin Christmas for me if you keep this up.”

“Let’s be real here, Soojin’s to blame too for renting the serial killer shack. You can’t get into the holiday spirit when your place is full of very suspicious wine stains.”

“That's fair,” you allow. “When she told me she rented a secluded little place for us to spend the winter break, I fully expected some fancy cottage like the one from The Holiday.”

“The Kate Winslet’s one?”

“Yes!”

“Yeah, we definitely don’t have that kinda budget. Jungkook spends too much on mattresses anyway,”

“What—”

“— besides, if this is a movie, it looks more like one of those big morality ones.”

“How so?”

“One of us is super greedy and presumptuous, so this is the universe’s attempt at humbling us.”

“Sending us to spend Christmas without our friends in a shitty place in a shitty town?”

“Clearly.”

“I mean, I’m a Literature major, it's not like I'll make any money.”

“Yeah, I’m in History, so.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I went to a regency themed party once and everyone looked so fine.”

“You chose your major for aesthetics?”

“What else is there to consider?”

You smile.

“And how's that going for you?”

“Three years in, not one costume party yet and my Duke attire is just gathering dust, so not great.”

“Maybe you should consider Fashion. I thought that was your major.”

“Yeah?” He pauses, considering it. “That's nice to know.” You smile and he taps his bottom lip. “But if it ain’t that kinda Christmas movie, what kind is it?”

You both ponder for a moment, before your attention returns to him, a mischievous edge to your eyes.

“Maybe it’s one of those we’re supposed to face our shit. Like the weird stuff we did in the past.”

Now, he knows you’re trying to imply something — but what? That he shouldn’t have run from you when he puked on you? ‘Cus that ain’t reasonable.

Ugh. Taehyung hates when people talk in riddles, he’s way too pretty for that.

“Maybe” he concedes, grabbing both of your bowls and getting up to throw them in the nearby trash.

He hears the small chuckle you let out, before you make your way to the door to grab a basket from a pile beside it.

Taehyung and you fall into peaceful conversation while roaming the few aisles in the store, and as the basket grows fuller, he wonders what he was shitting his pants for. Like what, he actually thought you’d just outright mention that day? You’re not cruel.

“It’s been a while since I went grocery shopping. Soojin usually buys for the two of us.” You say, grabbing some cookies from a shelf.

“I do it every week because Jungkook hates sharing food. He lost his shit once because I used all of his mayo.”

“All of his mayo? The hell kinda recipe you were making?”

…

You actually got pretty familiar with it.

“The food poisoning type.” When you laugh, he pretends that he's joking.

You finally reach the frozen section, eyes inspecting the different meat cuts available.

“What do you usually have for Christmas dinner?”

“My mom likes to make bulgogi and kimchi. Nothing special.” He shrugs. “What about you?”

You hesitate.

“Have you seen Home Alone?”

Taehyung scoffs.

“What you take me for?”

“Do you remember the mac n’ cheese scene?”

“Mhmm.”

“I’ve always wanted to have that for Christmas.” You purse your lips. “How do you fancy some bulgogi with mac n’ cheese?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You smile. “Budget Christmas supper.”

“Just how Jesus would like it.”

“Stop saying shit like that, Taehyung. It's the man's birthday, have some respect.”

“It’s about humility.” He rolls his eyes playfully. “Having a dirty mind is also a sin, you know.”

“Yeah, you’d know that.”

“Just spreading the word. You’re the sinner here.”

You level his gaze, a challenging smile tracing your face.

“Does that mean I won’t get presents this year? Have I not been a good girl?”

Ha.

No, you didn't just say that — his last brain cell just imagined it.

God, please don't say anything about being naughty.

He exhales quietly, opting for an easy out.

“If Soojin bought Jungkook a whole ass drum kit but got you nothing, then you should reconsider your friendship. Chicks before dicks or whatever.”

“I already accepted that Jungkook won. At this point I’m just the girl she shares rent with.”

“Well, I haven’t accepted shit. You please tell your rent sharer that Jungkook is mine.”

“You should tell him that, too. I’m afraid he might’ve forgotten.”

Taehyung whines.

“You don't have to say it.”

“Sorry, I’ll let you live in denial.” Your attention returns to the refrigerator, choosing a package of beef and placing it in the basket. “What about you get us something for breakfast and I figure out our dinner today?”

Taehyung nods, walking down the next aisle. He picks up what he deems necessary not to starve the next few days and secures a mediocre wine bottle on the way before he follows you to pay for everything.

Once outside, Taehyung opens the backseat door and starts to place the groceries there, but you don’t make a move to enter the car when he’s done.

He calls you, and when you turn to him, he finds a large, beaming smile plastered on your face. You point down the street where a decaying sign announces a Christmas tree lot sale.

Taehyung shakes his head, shivering as he rubs his hands together.

“No, c’mon. They probably just have those really ugly scrawny ones.” The way your smile immediately falters makes Taehyung feel like complete shit, so he strides to your side and adds, as convincing as possible: “but! We might be lucky! It’s a small town, so they probably didn’t sell that much to begin with.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek.

“You think so?”

“We can at least try.”

When you reach the sale, however, Taehyung cringes. There aren’t many trees left, and most of them already look terrible. He’s already trying to come up with something to comfort you, but when he looks at you? Shit, he might have thought it was Christmas morning already.

And the sight melts something inside of him. The warmth of your gaze when looking at utterly fucked up Christmas trees, as if they're brand new, makes him wanna be on the receiving end of that look.

You start to roam through the rows, inspecting the trees around you.

Now that he's not actively walking anymore, Taehyung feels his body stiffening from the cold, and he starts to tremble beside you.

“I don’t know why you're wearing that thin ass coat in this weather.” You taunt.

“My goal was to look hot, not to be warm.”

“Haven’t you regretted it yet?”

“It depends.” He smiles. “Do I look hot?”

“You look cold. Actually you look kinda purple now.”

“Not even pretty?” He pouts.

“You are pretty. There’s no changing that.” You grin, narrowing your eyes at him. “But now you just look so cold that I almost wanna warm you up. Make you hot.”

What. The. Fuck.

Your tone immediately takes him back to that day at the party. To the way you flirted with him with your back pressed against his front before he took you upstairs.

The way you never once darted your eyes away from him and he felt delirious, hot, under your attention — and it’s that same intensity he finds flashing across your gaze now.

No fucking way.

Forgetting what came next, Taehyung’s mind traps him in the memory of your hand reaching between your bodies to palm him through his pants, the recollection not as sexy due to the weird rumbling of his stomach.

Coming back to his senses, to your very present eyes staring at him, he curves his lips up.

“Sorry, but this Christmas I'm good girls exclusive.”

“You saying I’m a bad girl?” You pout.

Taehyung blinks a few times.

“Shit.” He huffs out a chuckle. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Fuck, you gotta stop pouting like that.

“You just messing with me.” He shakes his head, pointing at you. “I’mma go look on the other side of the lot now.”

You laugh as he turns, walking away from you.

He does not have the necessary control to deal with you flirting with him. Not when it makes no fucking sense. And the thing is that he isn’t often the smart one in his life (that’s Jungkook’s job when he isn’t struck dumb by his love for Soojin or his occasional hatred for Taehyung), so he isn't exactly the best at understanding people.

However — although he knows he’s unfairly hot — it makes no sense for you to want him. Not after what happened. And he’s not gonna risk another embarrassing situation after things are starting to resemble normalcy with you. As a matter of fact, Taehyung is too dumb to risk anything when there isn’t clear and explicit interest.

He shakes those thoughts off his head, focusing on finding a decent enough tree, but it takes around fifteen minutes of touching crumbling twigs for him to hear you calling his name from the other side of the lot.

You’re staring quizzically at a medium sized yellowish-green tree when he reaches you. To its credit, most of its branches — although looking like they could break just from being started at for too long — are still pretty full. Hopefully it can hold some ornaments to keep that smile on your face.

“What you think?”

“It does look better than the other ones.” He points. “You want this one?”

“Yep.”

“I’m so fucking happy” you declare, staring at the wack ass tree on your car’s roof.

Taehyung chuckles.

“I’m glad.”

You step to the driver’s side, moving to get in when you notice that Taehyung isn’t following.

“Ain’t you coming?”

“You bought a Christmas tree but won’t buy ornaments?” He teases, and a large grin spreads across your face. “C’mon, I saw some in the convenience store.”

You return to Taehyung’s side and you retrace your steps down the street.

“I feel like I must warn you that the last time I decorated a tree was when I was a kid.” You confess. “So it’ll probably look like shit.”

“That’s dumb. Every tree looks good if you decorate it with love.”

“Now you’re just being corny.” You nudge his side.

“I’m just trying to anticipate you to the fact that I also can’t decorate for shit.”

“So much for being experienced.”

“Experience means shit. For example, Jungkook is like, five years old and is so wiser than me already.”

“He did drive straight against a light pole in a parking lot. So maybe you’re setting the bar too low.”

“You know, you can insult me all you want, but I won’t let you come for my Kookie.”

“Your cookie?” You tease.

“What you smirking for? God, you have such a filthy mind.”

“Do not!”

“No way you watch Grinch with that dirty mind and do not have a furry kink.”

“Shut up.” You give his arm a light smack, but you’re giggling when you push open the store’s door for the second time that afternoon.

Taehyung guides you to a shelf with a bunch of Christmas themed products, and you both start to choose from little foam and plastic ornaments.

“Fuck, that’s so cute.” He says, holding a mini foam sock you picked in his large hands.

“I know, right? Loved those little stars you got, too.” You say, placing it all over the register.

“Nice to see you two again.” The cashier grins.

“We bought a tree, so we needed some ornaments.” Taehyung reasons.

“Sure.” He looks at the two of you for a second. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry, but you guys are such a cute couple.”

Taehyung’s face falls.

He kinda hates hearing stuff like this.

He’s heard people saying that about him and Soojin when they were fighting at a toy store trying to settle on something to buy Kook for Children’s day, and he’s heard it when he was having breakfast with a girl he had hooked up with — whose name he spent the whole meal trying to remember.

However, he never really heard it with Jungkook, even when the boy spent a whole dinner fucking sniffling his neck due to a new loation Taehyung had bought. Neither had he heard it when he was all smiles and giggles with a guy he saw for a while some months ago.

So he doesn’t really give those comments any credit. Especially because he knows he looks cute with anyone.

You, on the other hand, seem to think it’s outright hilarious.

“Thank you!” You laugh. “We aren’t together, though.”

Ha.

No way you were seriously flirting with him.

“Oh. Sorry if I…”

“No, it’s okay.” You reassure. “We sure are cute.”

Your prideful smile has Taehyung smiling too, despite himself. He likes how confidence looks on you.

The cashier rings you up, and Taehyung grabs the bags, following you outside.

When he finally stops struggling to place the tree near the house’s fireplace, it’s already dark outside.

You tried to help him a couple times, but Taehyung was intransigent, especially because of the branches — he was full of little cuts and scratches when he was done. Which is fine, makes him look kinda edgy, but he didn’t want to see them on your soft skin.

You drop the bags with the ornaments on the floor by his side, hands coming to rest on your hips. “You know, oddly enough I don’t know of any movie that has a Christmas tree decoration scene.”

“There’s that Friends scene where they decorate Monica’s tree.”

“Really? Never watched Friends.”

Taehyung gasps dramatically.

“And you like Grinch? Can’t believe I’m gonna spend Christmas with a psychopath.” He pauses. ��Oh god, did Soojin rent this house for you to kill me?”

“Still with the Grinch judgment?”

“If anything I think I’m not judging enough.” You roll your eyes. “You seriously never seen Friends?”

“I don’t really like series. Too much commitment.”

“Ohhh, didn’t know you were a player.” He teases, and you laugh.

“What can I say. I'm as heartless as they come.”

“You do look very cold holding that little plush candy cane.”

“Isn't it part of the fuckboy agenda to pretend to be sweet and caring?”

“So you're manipulative kind too? Damn, you should come with a warning.”

“Who cares about affective responsibility anyway?”

He sighs, “I have so much to learn.”

You giggle, shaking your head, and Taehyung grabs another ornament bag.

“Wait, let me set the mood.” You turn around, grabbing your phone from the couche’s armrest and putting on a Christmas playlist.

As Justin Bieber’s fetus voice starts filling up the room, Taehyung lets out a loud chuckle.

“Mistletoe?”

“You seriously coming for every Christmas thing I like?” You groan at his mocking tone. “Let me live, Taehyung.”

“I’d let you, but you not doing it right.” He says, approaching you to grab the phone from your hands, but you quickly step away.

“Hell, no. This song is hella cute, you’re not changing it. Just enjoy.”

“Uh, fine. Can I choose the next one?”

“... ok. But it needs to be Christmas related.”

“I have my own Christmas playlist, you know.”

“If it doesn’t have Mistletoe on it, then I already know it’s shit.”

He gapes, feigning offense.

“Damn, the disrespect. May George Michael never hear you.”

And then you two start to assemble the little ornaments around your shitty tree, mocking each other’s music taste but enjoying and absentmindedly swinging to every song.

It’s only when Mariah Carrey’s voice sounds through your phone that you stop for a second. Your eyes find Taehyung’s with ease, when he too halts his actions after carefully hanging a little star in one of the branches.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Need more Christmas wisdom?”

“Kinda.”

“Shoot.”

“Can you tell me more about holidays with your family?”

“Sure. What do you wanna know?”

“Anything.”

“Please, be more vague.”

You think, before grabbing a little Santa hat from the bag.

“How is decorating the tree with your sister like?”

“Uhm, she’s always very organized. She likes to plan it and she used to come up with different themes every year.” He smiles to himself. “One year she convinced us to buy a fake white tree because she thought it was fancy or something. It looked like shit when we finished decorating it, so my mum took us to a last minute tree hunt and we all started a whole different decoration before the rest of the family arrived for dinner.”

“Cute.”

“Yeah, now she loves little elf ornaments. My dad bought some once and she lost her shit because of how cute they are, so she plans her decoration around them every year.”

“Oh. We should’ve bought little elfs, then.”

“Nah, I’m tired of them. This way is nice.” Taehyung opens a bag with little plastic sleigh decorations and you two start to distribute them.

“So she’s a planner. How do you decorate?”

“I usually just do as she says. You know. Shoving the little things and hoping they don’t fall.” You chuckle and Taehyung looks at you. “What about you? How’s tree decorating with your family?”

You pause, letting out a long breath before you answer, “Don’t have that many memories to choose from, honestly.”

Taehyung frowns, before a little confused laugh leaves his lips.

“What, are you traumatized or something?”

Your eyes widen when you meet his gaze, smile completely wiped from your face as your hands halt mid-air.

Taehyung immediately panics, synapses synapsing before—

Well. Shit.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t ha—”

His apologies are interrupted by the loud sound of your laughter. He almost thinks he’s imagining it before he turns to you, the little sleigh ornament falling from your hands as you lean on your knees.

“Are you… uh, okay?”

“Can’t believe you just asked that.” You try to catch your breath, laughter breaking into little giggles.

“I’m really sorry, though, I don’t kno—”

“Taehyung,” you interrupt again, biting your lip in an attempt to contain your amusement, “it’s fine, honestly. I’m okay with it, just didn’t expect you to straight up say it.” You giggle a bit more as he processes your words.

“Oh… so you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I don’t have a good relationship with my parents, and this is my first Christmas without them. Don’t wanna talk about it… sorry if it’s weird or it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, you didn’t.” Taehyung fights the urge to apologize again, but he can help repeating himself. “You really ok, though?”

“Yeah. Really. Don’t worry about it.”

He nods, thinking before clearing his throat, “so. Want me to tell you more holiday with the Kims stories?”

Taehyung makes an effort not to let things become awkward, but it hits him then that this must be a pretty important Christmas for you — if the eager way you nod is anything to go by — and he kinda feels bad that you have to spend it with him.

Despite his concern, you fall into your now familiar laughing and teasing as he goes on to tell a bunch of family memories while you two finish up the tree.

Taehyung never had problems falling asleep. Actually, if anything, he had problems staying awake — being so hot can be exhausting sometimes. Ugh, who is he kidding? If anyone knows this, it is you. You, with your pretty smile and your pretty eyes and your pretty hands and your pretty face and your pretty voice and your fucking gorgeous body and your sense of—

Uhm. You got the point.

Anyway.

Ahem.

Where was he?

Oh, yeah.

Taehyung never really had problems sleeping, but that night, after bidding you goodnight and returning to the warmth of his covers after a good steamy shower, he felt restless.

A weird sense of responsibility weighted on him, and he promised himself that he’d try to make this holiday remarkable for you — and that he’d keep that fucking smile on your face. But even after his resolution, his body felt foreign. Taehyung kept shifting inside the covers, gut turning and twisting almost as if he had eaten something he shouldn’t and the thought kept him awake for hours on end until he realized that it resembled butterflies.

He pretended like he didn’t know why he was feeling that, but, after he finally drifted off, your face starred his every dream.

“Merry Christmas Eve!”

“So you finally remembered I exist, hum?” Taehyung secures his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he places the dishes in the sink.

You were twenty minutes deep into a Love Actually rant when his ringtone pierced through your argument. You shut up immediately, only then realizing how caught up you’ve gotten, but Taehyung was almost disappointed when you put away your lunch plate and left the kitchen to provide some privacy.

“What? I don’t remember you calling me when I was in the hospital yesterday.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, grabbing his phone properly as he makes his way to his bedroom.

“People grieve in different ways, Jungkook. You must learn to respect that.”

“What are you grieving, asshole, I didn’t die.”

“Your dignity did. Driving straight against a light pole then whining over a twisted ankle.”

“The light pole was in my blind spot.”

“So you did whine?”

“Like a proper man.” Taehyung chuckles.

“I know you’re fine, Soojin kept me updated. I figured you were tired, so I didn’t call or anything.”

“Pretty sure you sent a text blaming me for getting into an accident.”

“It kinda was your fault, though, wasn’t it, Kook?”

Jungkook gets silent on the line for a second, before letting out a loud exhale.

“Are you mad with me?”

Taehyung frowns.

“What you talking about?”

“Fuck, you are, aren’t you? I just… I’m sorry, man. I know you didn’t wanna go in the first place but I kept asking you to go, and now you’re there alone.”

“Hum. I don’t accept your apology, tho—”

“Wow. Okay, then. I mean, it wasn’t my fault you puked on her and went all incognito, so it seems a bit harsh, but go off, I guess.”

“The hell? I was gonna say I don’t accept it ‘cus there’s nothing to apologize for, jackass.”

“Oh.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “Right. Appreciate it, man. But for real, I’m sorry. Hope things aren’t too awkward there.”

Taehyung chews the inside of his cheek.

“Actually? Things are ok. Went to town to buy some stuff with her yesterday and she’s so cool, man. We’re cool.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I was a bit in my head at first, but it’s fine now.”

“Sweet! In that case, you’re welcome.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but huffs out a chuckle.

“Yeah, thank you for crashing your car, it made me happy.”

“Everything for you, Tae.”

“Shit. I kinda miss you, tough.”

“Yeah, same. But we’ll be there soon enough.”

“Great. Now, have you ever realized how amazing Emma Thompson is on Love Actually? I feel like we don’t give her enough love, and I was just reflecting on some shit.”

“Oh my god, I kinda thought the same thing the last time we watched it. I mean, let's think about it for a sec here.”

Taehyung could distinctly hear the corny Christmas soundtrack when he set foot outside his room after hours trying to soothe his Jungkook deficiency. He smiled to himself, approaching the living room.

He finds you clutching the blanket to your chest, eyes focused on the action on the TV screen.

“You ok?” His question makes you jump on the couch, hand immediately flying to your chest.

“Jesus, Taehyung! Announce yourself, goddammit!” You try to catch your erratic breath as he chuckles.

“My bad.” You grab the remote to jump back a few scenes. “What are you watching?”

“Nightmare before Christmas.”

“Nice choice.”

“Wanna join?”

“Nah. Think it's time to start making dinner.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure, let's go.”

You start to peel the covers off you, but Taehyung shakes his hand quickly.

“Let me take care of it! You can chill.”

You frown, “you don't need help?”

“No, I can figure it out by myself, enjoy your marathon.”

Okay, he knows what you're thinking, and it does seem like a pretty terrible idea given… well, the way you two met. But! Taehyung is nothing but a dedicated man, and that night with you he was humbled. So, he spent the months following the incident learning and researching and — after getting fairly acquainted with food poisoning and stressing the fuck outta Jungkook — he finally mastered the art of cooking.

…

That was misleading, sorry.

He can confidently make popcorn, and hesitantly make ramen and mac and cheese — everything an adult needs to survive, honestly —, and tonight's menu just so happens to contain one of his specialties. He just has to figure out the bulgogi part, and then he's gonna blow your fucking mind.

“Oh, by the way,” you call from the couch as he makes his way to the kitchen area “I didn't find any good brands of mac and cheese yesterday, so I bought the ingredients to make it from scratch. Hope it's okay?”

Well, shit.

Taehyung reassures you weakly, not wanting to take that smile off your face, and takes a deep breath before starting to gather the ingredients.

How hard can it be, really?

Surprising absolutely no one, Taehyung didn't figure shit out.

What he did, though, in the twenty minutes it took for him to come to his senses, was learn a few big words. Like marinated. What does it even mean? And why does every recipe site assume he knows it? He knows shit.

Also, why is mac and cheese sauce not just melted cheese? Makes absolutely no fucking sense. Honestly? Straight up cynical.

But you see kids, Taehyung didn’t just learn to make popcorn and instant food during the previous months. In fact, he also did a little of what you could call a character development (who would’ve thought that throwing up over the hottest girl he’s even met could teach you so much about life? Amazing, honestly), and that’s why now, instead of getting creative, he decides to just call for you.

“Yeah?” You answer dismissively, attention still in the skeleton singing on the screen.

“I, uh… need your help.”

You pause the movie, turning your body to face him over the couch.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Honestly?” His smile is shy as he looks away from you. “I can't cook for shit. Hate to ask after telling you I would do it, but I also feel like food poisoning isn't on your Christmas bucket list, so… can you help me with dinner?”

Your smile, on the other hand, is blissful.

“How do you survive?”

“Barely. But Jungkook is a good cook.”

“Oh, yeah.” You consider. “Soojin has started to eat more at home after he started cooking for us too.”

“So… will you help me?”

“Of course.” You're already on your feet by the time the words leave your mouth, and Taehyung can see you're wearing that cute ass bear pajamas from yesterday. You look so fucking soft and comfortable.

When you join him in the kitchen he can’t help but smile at the way your outfit matches his own — although his pattern is of little tigers. You search briefly around the cabinets and reach for the wine he got the day before, and you two let the sweet alcohol tint your lips as you look through all the ingredients he displayed on the counter.

“Soojin made mac and cheese the other day, so I’ll do her way. Also, bulgogi ain’t really that hard, anyway. Just… do as I say.”

“Sure.”

Taehyung pays close attention to your instructions, and you task him with a basic chopping job that — although really fucking dangerous considering the size of the knife — seems easy enough that he won’t fuck it up. You charge yourself with the pasta, filling a pan with water and turning up the heat.

“What does one usually do after supper?”

“Well, it varies. My brother likes to watch Christmas movies. My parents would just sleep. Jungkook likes to get shitfaced and dance.”

“And you?”

“I’m the one he dances with.” You smile.

“Cute.”

“What you wanna do?”

“Uhm… watch movies? There’s a few remaining on my list.”

“We could do that.”

“Oh, sorry. Did I give you the impression that I wanted to do it with you?”

“As if. I’m your Christmas mentor, you need me.”

“Need no such thing anymore. Besides, I feel like I mentored you a bit too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Care to tell me how?”

“For one, if it wasn’t for me, you’d still think reindeers aren’t real.”

“Hey, that’s not—”

“And you’d be left to eat basic ass ramen for Christmas dinner.”

“What I’m hearing is that you took the fun outta my holidays.”

“Oh, yeah? I bought some ramen yesterday, suit yourself.”

“God, you’re so mean, so cold. But that's okay. I happen to have a very big heart, so I forgive your lack of gratitude. We can still watch something together.”

“But I’m not apologizing.”

“You’ll watch your movies alone then?”

“Don’t exactly feel like holding your hand when you get scared.”

“What kinda Christmas movies are you watching?”

“Old scary Grinch.” Your smile only widens when Taehyung groans.

“Stop it.” He nudges you. “Your water is boiling already.”

“C’mon, Tae, let’s face some childhood fears, maybe that’s what our movie is about.”

He rolls his eyes, but your laugh pulls a smile outta him.

At some point, after around two hours of teasing and working through the wine bottle — now long forgotten and replaced by the cheap beer you got at the store —, you two manage to finish dinner. Now, Taehyung ain't no chef. But if the smell is anything to go by, this might just be his best meal, and he's happy he was able to contribute.

He sets the table while you give the food the final touches, and in no time you two are sitting across from each other, bulgogi mac and cheese bowls waiting in front of you, while Michael Bublé's voice envelops the house.

Taehyung fills his spoon and takes the first bite.

Holy shit.

For a second, he just lets the food sit on his tongue. The flavor coating his every sense as you stare expectantly at him. Closing his eyes, he lets out a low sigh; he could never have enough creativity to describe such a taste.

What he knows of, though, is that it tastes like shit.

Thoroughly and unmistakably garbage and he's left surprised at how you two were able to mess up this bad… Okay, maybe not that surprised: he was there after all — but oh my god, you can't cook for your life!

But, when he opens his eyes, meeting your glimmering ones, he doesn't have it in his heart to tell you. Maybe you just have a different taste or something, maybe your food is too refined for his traumatized palate.

So, he gathers his strength and chews the fucking pasta.

“So?” You ask, after he swallows.

“Mhmmm” he hums “it's definitely something.”

Your face drops on cue, and Taehyung offers a weak smile when you reach for your own spoon, shoving pasta in your mouth and groaning when it touches your tongue.

“Oh my god”, you quickly get a napkin to spit the food. “But… it smells so good. How did I fucked this up?” You drop your head on your palms over the table.

“It does smell delicious.” He inhales deeply, letting the deceiving dish smell soothe his senses after the atrocious taste.

“I’m so sorry.” You groan.

“For what?”

“Ruining our Christmas dinner.”

“What you talking about? Pretty sure I can get full just by sniffling the shit out of this.” You lift your face from your hands, meeting his attempt to lighten the mood.

“I’m serious.”

“So what? You think I could’ve done better?” He chuckles. “Honestly, you’re miles ahead of my cooking skills just for making it smell like food.” He continues when a small smile tugs at your lips. “Definitely understand why Soojin wasn’t eating at home before Jungkook, but it looks great nonetheless.”

You giggle faintly.

“But for real… what are we gonna do?”

He looks around the kitchen, before smiling at you.

“Think I'm gonna suit myself with some basic ass ramen for Christmas dinner.”

After cleaning the table and making sure to strictly follow the basic three step ramen instructions, you two move your Christmas supper to the couch — or rather, you return to your cozy place under the blankets and he gets acquainted with the nearby armchair.

It feels ridiculously comfortable. And as you two keep making your way through Bridget Jones' Diary, Taehyung realizes a few weird things.

The first, is that he doesn’t know how you ever manage to finish movies, because you constantly feel the need to pause and over analyze a scene for at least five minutes before you deem him informed enough to move onto the next one. He doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds it adorable, especially when you rolled up your sleeves, tossed the empty ramen bowl on the coffee table and explained to him almost angrily why Bridget’s resignation scene is real cinema or something.

The second, and perhaps most alarming one, is that he hasn’t paid attention to a single scene after the first time you paused. His eyes apparently forget how to strain away from you. From your arms, from your hair, from your smiles and chuckles. You seem to be aware that he’s staring, but pretend that it's just the spiciness of the ramen that got you fanning yourself, while making no effort whatsoever to push the blankets away from you.

You’re just… entracing. So beautiful, so excited, so worked up, so cute and just such a fucking menace that he feels like he’s spinning — cheap bear aside, he doesn’t think it’s on alcohol he’s drunk on.

Although, from the amount of cans accumulated by his and yours feet, you two aren’t exactly sober either.

…

Yeah, sure, it’s the beer. The alcohol. He’s drunk. That’s it.

“Taehyung, can I ask you something?” Your voice breaks through his mind, snapping him out of his inner ramblings.

“Sure.”

“I know you hate it. But can you maybe watch Grinch with me too?” And you quickly add, before he can even open his mouth to contest: “I really like it, and it’s the last one on my list, and” you hiccup “maybe you can grow to like it now as an adult!”

He groans.

“Why do you like that shit?”

“Please! I don’t wanna watch it alone.”

“I don’t know…”

You look around the room, as if trying to find something that will convince him, but it’s when Taehyung sips on his beer that your eyes lit up with an idea.

“Didn’t you say you liked to get shitfaced and then dance with Jungkook during Christmas?”

“... yeah?”

“Then let’s do that! Let’s get really drunk,” you hiccup again, letting out a little giggle. “Ok, maybe that part is covered. So, let's dance, then watch Grinch!”

“You wanna dance?”

“Then watch Grinch!” You repeat, words slurred in the cutest little way. “I’ll do it for you, you do it for me.”

You don’t wait for him to agree before you’re on your feet, crossing the space between you and grabbing his hands to help him rise from the couch — but Taehyung doesn’t fight any of it. Because the pout on your lips and the way your eyes are glimmering with fondness (and intoxication too, he’s sure), makes him wanna do just everything you tell him too.

You set your phone on the coffee table and face him again.

“Oh” you giggle, clumsily stepping back when you realize just how close you two are. You clear your throat. “So how do you two do it?”

“We just dance. There’s no plan or a right way to do it, just… dance.” He blinks.

Fuck, he’s really drunk.

“Okay.”

He giggles at your uneasiness, reaching for your phone and starting one of his Christmas playlists. He doesn’t need much to start swaying when a sweet jazz rhythm sounds through your speakers. He shakes his shoulders playfully, earning a laugh from you.

“Damn, you’re so old.”

He chuckles.

“What you waiting for? Just dance with me.”

He grabs your wrists and guides you to swing with him, lifting your arms and twisting you before letting you to set your own pace with a large smile on your face.

Taehyung feels so at peace. The alcohol easing his thoughts, the jazz moving his body, your cute giggles gracing his ears.

“I'll give it to you, your music taste isn't bad.”

He clicks his tongue.

“You wouldn't be swaying like that to Mistletoe, I guarantee you.”

“Wanna bet?” You challenge, already grabbing your phone to change the song.

Taehyung laughs when you switch up your dancing style to something far more agitated than the song demands, clumsily circling the coffee table. He's clearly more skilled than you, so he tries to exaggerate and act up his movements to match yours.

“Okay, now sing with me” you clap your hands “— but Imma be under the mistletoe. With youuu” you point at him “shawty with you.”

You can't finish the chorus as you burst into little giggles, and Taehyung follows suit.

“Shut up.”

“That's the only tradition left, I think.”

“Huh?”

“The mistletoe.”

He stumbles on the couch.

“What?”

You look at him for a second, and your grin falters just a little before you shake your head.

“Why so violent with the couch? No need to be scared.” You laugh. “Damn, you're such a bad dancer.”

Taehyung can't understand mixed signals when he's sober — so it's not like he's gonna try when he’s this drunk.

“How dare you! If the music was better it'd definitely be easier. Put on some nice Stray Kids if you really wanna know what I'm made of.”

It’s a ridiculous scene, really. One that he wouldn’t believe could’ve happened a day before, but here you are, dancing around the living room, bumping into the furniture and laughing like two children as a way to force him to watch a stupid Christmas movie with you.

And fuck, he likes it.

He likes the way your shirt lifts whenever you raise your arms, exposing a line of your lower stomach. He likes the way your ass shakes when you try to make a funny move. He likes the way a thin layer of sweat coats your exposed skin, and how desperate he is to lick it clean. He likes the way you look at him, like he is the one making you this fucking happy.

And then you finally pause the music.

“I'll admit. If History doesn’t work, you can definitely make a career out of dancing.”

“Thanks.” He smiles. “You should stick to Literature, though.”

“Hey!”

You laugh, shoving him playfully as you let your body fall on the couch, pushing the blanket to the armrest and away from you. He doesn’t bat an eye when he sits beside you this time.

“Can we watch it now?”

He sighs. “Yeah, whatever.”

You reach for the remote and before Taehyung can ever prepare himself, the stupid narrator is already introducing you two to Whoville.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize he’s not ready to face any childhood fears today, because as Jim Carey’s furry face is slowly but surely shown, he’s already shivering and looking away.

This time, though, you don’t ignore his lack of attention to the movie.

“Oh my god” you laugh, pausing the movie six minutes in, Grinch’s ugly ass face occupying the whole screen. “You’re scared scared of it. Actually scared.”

He scoffs.

“No, I’m not?”

“Why are you looking away, then?”

“Nothing, you can keep going.”

You smirk, “okay.”

Taehyung is able to stomach the next few scenes, complaining at the stupid hairstyles and outfits the characters use while you just eye him amused. When Grinch’s face shows up again, Taehyung starts to restlessly shift on the couch to have an excuse to look away, and the constant cracking of the backrest is what prompts you to pause the movie again.

“Stop moving so much. You gonna break the couch.”

“It’s just uncomfortable. Can’t find a good position.”

“Taehyung, we can choose a different movie if you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared though, this movie is fine.”

“The movie is, you aren’t.”

He crosses his arms, but doesn’t say anything.

“You know, you don’t look like someone who scares easily.”

“Because I’m not.”

“You've been cringing since the movie began.”

“Because it's bad.” Damn, he sounds like a five year old.

You shift on the couch to face him, before tugging on his elbow lightly, compelling him to meet your eyes.

“If you admit you’re scared, I’ll change it.”

Your stare is intense as you wait for him to give in and he suddenly feels warm. Your hand is still resting on his arm, and a weird stir on his stomach makes Taehyung feel like that isn’t contact enough — but he blames it on the beer for the time it takes for him to remember how to form syllables.

Shaking his head, he scoffs.

“No wonder you like Grinch so much, you’re just like him.”

“Damn, just like him? Now who’s the mean one?”

“Still you.”

“Well, you just compared me to Jim Carrey in a hairy green costume, so.”

“I mean, you’re not as bad on the eyes.”

“Wow, thanks. That’s some competition.”

He doesn’t think. He says.

“You don’t have competition. You're like, in a league of your own.”

The chalet Soojin found was the only one with three bedrooms y’all could afford, but as you two have quickly learned these last days, that doesn’t mean that it was a good place. Actually, Taehyung only stopped calling it a shack because Jungkook told him it made Soojin sad — but even with every door and window closed, he’s still able to catch you shivering under the cold breeze breaching through the shit heating system. Fuck this place and how it makes you cold.

“Oh.” It's all you manage to reply.

“And that’s even worse.”

“How?” You offer him a little, unconvincing laugh.

“You deceive. Grinch would’ve succeeded on his stupid plan if he seduced people.”

“So what, am I seducing you or something?”

He doesn’t answer.

No, he can't answer that. Not with words, at least. Not with the way the alcohol is steadily dissolving his filters, and not with the way you're looking at him. So he just stares at you.

He just stares at you as if your eyes hold the answers to all of his questions — and that’s saying something because he has a lot of them — and then you wet your lips, dragging his eyes down your face. The sensitive flesh is tinted red, a memory of the spicy sauce and wine you just had, now glistening with your saliva too. And Taehyungs feels the urge to taste it.

It’s you, however, that finally leans in, erasing the space between you to smash your lips against his in a kiss that Taehyung feels like he waited his whole life for.

And the desperation is evident, the need to make up for a missed time neither of you were aware of, so his hand reaches for the nape of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and slide his tongue against yours. It's messy and mostly sloppy, but it lights a fire inside both of you.

You further press your mouths together, Taehyung’s breath tangling with yours in what looks like an attempt to eat each other’s faces off — and fuck, he wants nothing less.

It takes only a light touch on your thigh for you to promptly sway your leg over his hips, straddling his thighs without breaking contact for a second.

The new angle allows for him to feel all of you. The weight of your body and the taste of your tongue makes his mind spin, and shit he can’t focus on technique for his life, he just wants to keep his mouth on yours forever.

Taehyung’s large palms skim up your thighs, and he grabs a handful of your ass, pushing a low breathy moan out of your throat. Shit. If he was eager before, Taehyung’s actions now turn straight up feral, hungrily seeking your lips while pressing you down on his body, feeling a shiver run down his spine at the way you seem to effortlessly fit above him.

The new found intensity makes your knee jolt on the remote beside your leg. You pause the kiss for a moment to giggle drunkenly when Grinch’s voice sounds through the room, and that’s when Taehyung’s inebriated thoughts finally seem to catch up to him.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

You’re drunk. Shit, you’re drunk as fuck. He can taste it. He can feel it in the way your hands clumsily tug on his hair, and in the way your hips uncoordinatedly roll over his.

Shit.

He squeezes his eyes further shut, trying to get some sense into his head, and finally gathers enough control to pull away.

You immediately frown, chasing after his lips, but he turns his face.

“Tae?”

He swallows at the breathless way your voice comes out, the nickname rolling off your tongue just makes him wanna grab your face again and resume the messy make out session. So, with his mind still spinning, he struggles to find the right words when he opens his mouth.

“I think we shouldn’t do this.” His voice is slurred.

You freeze, backing away just a bit to inspect his elusive face, and whatever you find there makes your whole expression drop. You clear your throat awkwardly and lift your leg to move away from his thighs. Taehyung’s hands feel hella empty without your hips to hold on to, but he pushes through the feeling, rising from the couch as soon as you’re securely away, and bolts away to his room down the corridor, pants awfully tight.

Taehyung feels like shit the next morning, in more ways than one.

He’s not sure how he was even able to fall asleep — although the excessive amount of alcohol in his blood might have helped.

He knows he did the right thing stopping it: you were both way past clarity for clear consent, but in all his years as a certified fuckboy he never communicated that so poorly, and never ever made someone feel undesirable — and he fears that's exactly what he did last night. Which couldn’t be farther from the truth, because holy fuck he doesn’t think he’s ever desired someone so desperately.

However, as much as he would love to do it all again, much much more sober, he can’t assume the same for you. Especially not after the ridiculous way he handled the situation. But he shouldn’t leave it like that. No, he has to talk to you, to explain and then apologize. It’s still Christmas after all, and the last thing he wants is to give you another bad holiday memory.

That thought is enough to prompt him out of bed, and Taehyung crosses the corridor with surprising confidence before stopping at your door.

Taking a deep breath, he lightly knocks before closing his hand around the handle, turning it and pushing it open.

He expects to find you sleeping. He kinda expected you to be awake too, deep in thought just as he was — but fuck, he definitely wasn't expecting that.

You coat your fingers in your arousal before pushing them up to circle your clit. The relief is immediate, and you have to cover your mouth with your free hand to prevent your pleasure from spilling from your lips.

Your eyes flutter shut when you imagine what Taehyung's long fingers would feel like replacing yours. How he would drag them up and down your folds, spreading your juices and making your pussy all nice and slick for him, before plunging them inside, scissoring you open and curving just the right way.

Fuck, you’re so fucking horny.

You should've found a way to blow some steam, to relieve that pressure before you came on this trip. Granted, you didn’t really know you and Taehyung would be by yourselves, so the only thing you expected from him were avoidant eyes and quick, uncomfortable escapes — which you got last night, after your stupid drunk ass thought it was a good idea to kiss him. Shit, what did you have in mind?

Oh, right. Kim Taehyung.

The first time you ever saw him, in that cursed party, you were immediately sure of one thing: Kim Taehyung is tailor-made by hell. There’s no other way to explain his alluring eyes, that burn with such intensity that the mere glance your way makes you feel like the hottest fucking person alive; or his lips, soft and plumpy lips, that spread in the utmost tempting smirk you’ve ever seen. And his body? Fuck, he’s so hot that you honestly wanna eat your fist whenever you look at him.

So, it’s fair to say, you were pretty fucking happy that he made a move on you on that party. To this day, remembering the way his back was pressed against yours and the words he whispered in your ear? The promises he made? You just knew you would do everything to see them through.

But you feel like you’ve been trapped in your own fucked up version of groundhog day. One in which every time a hot person sees something in you that deems you fuckable, you’re always fucking interrupted. You feel like you’ve been edged for months now, starting with Taehyung puking on you, followed by you and Jimin being interrupted when you were searching for something to use as bondage and last month, when you had your fingers deep inside one of your classmates pussy and her sister decided to visit her the very same moment.

You’re a simple girl, with simple needs. You just want to cum.

And despite all the months without basic, mature communication, you still fucking wanted Taehyung to blow your back. God, the things you heard of him, the rumors, the giggling feedback… all ruined because as soon as he made sure you were clean and held no evidence of his lunch, he disappeared as if you had imagined him. But how could you ever blame him for getting sick? You’ve worked six months in a nursery last year, you’re pretty much immune to vomit at this point.

Nonetheless, his lack of opening after it all made you shut down that window, and you didn’t really gave it much thought until Jungkook decided to fucking destroy his car (honestly, how could he drive straight against a fucking pole, so damn inconvenient!) and you and Taehyung were left to your own devices in a shitshow of a town. And then, you got everything but what you expected.

You found out that his sweet smile can be just as alluring as his smirk. And that his eyes can hold a kindness and an innocence so genuine that’s almost infuriating. That he’s the silliest fucking man alive and you couldn’t have asked for a better person to make you company during Christmas — he is basically Jesus after all. The GOAT of Christmas and shit.

But after last night? After remembering what his lips taste like? After remembering the weight of his hands as they trace your legs and set every inch of your skin on fire? Shit, you’re not sure how you went a single day without it.

Consequently, after an hour tossing and turning on bed, you came up with a clear plan of action: you would apologize. Would face him, and apologize for kissing his last night and for making him uncomfortable. But fuck, you have to deal with that knot in the pit of your stomach before setting foot out of bed.

With that in mind, you push your fingers deep inside your pussy, stroking your walls the way you can just imagine that he would, reaching spots that yours never could. You bite the palm over your mouth, trying to keep a loud moan from slipping out when you start to pump your fingers with purpose, seeking release as if your life depended on it.

You’re so pent up that it doesn’t take long before you start to feel your pussy constricting around your digits, and you can sense your sanity drifting away the closer you get — making you thoughtlessly drop your hand from your mouth.

“Fuck” you moan, curving your digits to seek your g-spot “Taehyung!”

“I’m here!”

It takes longer than it probably should for you to understand that no, you didn’t just imagine his voice replying to you — but realization does hit you eventually, and you snap your eyes wide open.

You take your soaked fingers away from your center, opening your legs as your head lifts from the pillow to find Taehyung, not imagined — although dreamy — with his back turned to you on the threshold.

“Oh my god” you whisper, desperation lacing your tone as you rush to cover yourself, even if he can’t see you “oh my god, shit, I’m…”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts, voice strained. “I just… I came to— I’ll go now.” He stutters, and the next second he is out of your room, closing the door behind him.

Your body doesn’t move for the next ten minutes at least, and you have to gather all of your self respect to cast away the tears threatening to spill from the overwhelming shame consuming you.

Taehyung just saw you knuckles deep inside your pussy.

Taehyung just saw you knuckles deep inside your pussy, moaning his fucking name.

And you didn’t even get to cum.

Is it too dramatic to pack your things and drive back?

People change universities all the time, right? Maybe you can find a nice Literature program in another city, move the fuck away from Taehyung to never have to see his face again.

Deep breaths.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Get your shit together, you’re not a spoiled white young man. You have to face your shit. You have to apologize.

In.

Out.

You slip out of bed, putting on sweatpants and a shirt over your sweaty skin, feeling warm all over. You walk to the door, testing different sentences as you let your head thump against the thick wood. How could you forget to lock this shit? You’re never ever getting drunk again.

Your steps are hesitant as you make your way across the hall, rehearsing a weird apology in your head as you try to build momentum — all in vain, because as soon as you see him, sitting on the floor and looking at the gift in his hands as if it has just spoken to him, your body tenses up and every possibility of courage evades you.

The experience is almost humbling, because you finally understand why he ran away all those months ago instead of facing you. Fuck being the bigger man, you’re gonna pretend as if nothing happened.

Taehyung acknowledges you when you step closer, coming to a stop near him with your hands shaking behind your back. You regret not washing your face before leaving your room, because you can only imagine how disheveled you look right now: embarrassed and sexually frustrated. You’re feeling so hot that for a second you wonder if you can actually melt.

His face doesn’t betray any emotion. If you squint, you can find what looks like confusion in his gaze, but you don’t level his eyes for enough time to assess it.

“I figured we could open up the presents we got.” He states, simply, as if he didn’t just catch you masturbating. You blink, setting your lips in a thin line. You know what? Fuck it. You drop to his side, crossing your legs and keeping your eyes on the gift Soojin bought you and feeling your face burning with his attention. “Let’s open them together. That’s… uhm, that’s how me and my siblings do it.” He instructs, and you nod, but as you both busy yourselves with the wrappings it’s clear from the clumsiness of your actions that your minds are clearly somewhere else.

You peel off the covers of a black paper box, and absentmindedly open the lid, baring its content to both of you.

“Fuck” you hear Taehyung choke under his breath when his gaze falls on your gift, completely forgetting the Céline pants Jungkook got him.

You see, Soojin is a strong advocate for self love and all of her presents always involve some kind of weird liberal feminist agenda to help you girlboss your way through life. So, when she started to randomly ask for your clothing size, you were sure she was gonna buy you some of those weird shirts with a corny quote like Happy, Unbothered, Disciplined and Growing (all things you couldn’t relate too, but would undoubtedly sport in the name of friendship).

You should have suspected, though, when she went through your underwear drawer, but she did seem genuine when she said she just wanted to do your laundry for you.

Well, people surprise you, apparently.

And it’s fair to say you are pretty fucking surprise as you look at the black lace lingerie set in front of you, with a little hope this helps you break your dryspell 😘 note on top of it — the icing on the fucking cake.

You almost want to laugh, the heat in your face becoming unbearable as you quickly reach for the lid to cover the gift up, trembling hands making a poor work to hide your embarrassment.

Forget changing universities. What about a different fucking country?

All moving plans are cleared from your mind when you hear your name. Said in a voice so deep you actually take a while to process it came from Taehyung, and a shiver runs down your spine when you halt your hands, leaving the box half open.

“I’m gonna ask you a question.” He starts, and he sounds so serious you’re suddenly scared of looking up. “I’m gonna ask you a question, and I need you to be as clear as possible, because that’s the only way I’ll understand.”

You gulp, bracing yourself for what’s to come when you nod.

“Why did you say my name?”

Your breath hitches on your throat, and you assume it’s because you expected anything but that question that you raise your head — regretting it immediately, because you don’t meet the familiar soft and kind eyes that you’ve grown accustomed to these past two days. Rather, in its place, you find a dark shade of desire burning through you, enhancing your every sense when he darts his tongue along the seam of his mouth.

“You do that a lot, you know.” You huff out a laugh. “Lick your lips. You have no idea how fucking hot it is.”

When he repeats your name this time, he sounds almost angry, and that prompts you to admit.

“I said your name because I want you to fuck me, Taehyung.”

He immediately shuts his eyes, and a deep exhale passes his lips before he opens them again. Every inquiry, every doubt has left his eyes when he unabashedly smirks.

“Then what about you try this on, princess. Let’s see if it fits.”

When you step back into the living room you can already feel the anticipation pooling at your brand new panties. You can't help feeling kinda uneasy, so exposed while he's still fully clothed, but when his eyes find your lace clad form, basically eating you whole, something about his shameless attention sends a boost of confidence through you, and you’re sure you’ve never felt sexier in your life.

“Holy shit.” It comes out so quietly that you can barely hear it.

His eyes explore every inch of your skin, and you honestly thought his eyes couldn’t get any darker, but a thick layer of lust makes them so deep you might just get lost on them.

“Come here.” He commands, and you immediately comply, cutting through the space between you and relishing in the soft touch of his hands as his arms snake around your waist, pressing your chest on his.

The fabric of his hoodie is smooth against your skin, his body exuding an intoxicating warmth, leaving you dizzy, sick to be touched as you drive your own hands up his torso and around his neck.

Taehyung, on the other hand, seems to be in no rush whatsoever. His palm is hot against your lower back, pressing you against him, molding you to his figure. With his left hand, he starts to trace your body, trying to commit every inch, every mole, every scar, every expense of skin to memory, starting at your hips, darting inwards to your stomach, grazing up your chest to barely touch the valley between your breasts before his fingertip trace up the column of your neck, finding a resting place around your jaw.

“Never want to forget this body.” His breath fans across your face, and your eyes flutter shut when he starts to lean in.

The way he kisses you now is vastly different from the kiss you shared last night.

Then, you two were messily trying to suffocate one another, tongues clashing together with little coordination as alcohol fueled your actions and clouded your judgment.

Now, the soft press of his mouth over yours is calculated. Sweet and deliberate, tasting you like your lips are sacred and taking his time to cherish the way your sensitive flesh feels on his. You have to gather all your self control not to bite him, not to take over, not to just groan out your frustration, and in no time you’re melting under his lead.

He gradually starts to speed up his movements, tilting your face to open your lips with his and slip his tongue inside to lick inside your mouth. Your breathing soon turns into panting as Taehyung acts become more intentional, kissing you as if his life depends on it.

You entangle your arms around his neck, pushing him closer to further deepen the kiss — and he matches your enthusiasm, lips moving relentlessly against yours, sucking on your tongue and pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, bruising the skin and making sure to swallow your every sound. His hand leaves your face to find your hips, grabbing and squeezing the flesh eagerly.

Fuck, he’s such a good kisser and you’re already so turned on, you wonder if you could cum just from making out with him.

God, that'd be embarrassing.

After what feels like hours — although you think you could keep kissing him for days — Taehyung pulls away. He rests his forehead against yours, recollecting his breath.

Can he feel your nipples hardening over the thin fabric of your bra? Because you can sure as fuck feel the agonizing press of his growing erection against your thigh.

He smirks.

“Can I mark you?”

“Yes, please.”

Your pleading voice seems to ignite something feral in him, because when he latches on to your jaw his kisses are nothing short of hungry. He drags his tongue along your cheek, before making sure his mouth acknowledges every spot of your throat, licking, sucking and biting all over your skin.

You can feel him smiling against your neck when your soft, quiet gasps turn into full on whimpers.

“Shit” you exhale, grabbing a handful of his hair and tugging on it.

The moan that he graces you with makes your eyes roll back in delight. A shiver runs down your spine at the way he shamelessly grinds your hips on his crotch.

He pulls away, hair completely tousled, golden skin darker as he admires the blossoming colors on your neck, painted by his skilled lips. His eyes fall to your panting chest next, and he takes his hand there, enveloping one of your tits and squeezing it not nearly hard enough.

“Fuck, this shit looks amazing on you, but I kinda wanna rip it with my teeth.”

“Don't you dare ruin it, I literally just got it.”

He quirks his eyebrow, and his hand leaves your tits, tracing down your belly and reaching to cup you over your panties. Your hips jolt with the contact and Taehyung chuckles, the cockiest smirk settling on his face.

“Think you’ve already ruined it.” He groans. “God, you're really fucking wet and I've barely done anything.”

“You're hard too. I've done even less.” Your teasing is that much less effective when his fingers are ghosting up and down your pussy.

Taehyung chuckles. His hand rises to the hem of your underwear, grazing the skin below it with tortuous patience, making you clutch his hair even harder. He's sure going bald by the end of this.

“You must be so fucking messy after this morning.” He hums to himself, and you nod. “Did you get to cum?”

“No.”

“Oh, you poor thing.” His hand thread down again, tracing your folds over the lace. “Do you want to cum, baby?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, Tae. Please.”

He clicks his tongue.

“Now, that’s just a shame.” He slightly slaps your pussy, making you jolt in his hold and then completely takes his hand away. “Because only good girls get to cum, princess, and you’ve been such a bad girl to me these past days, so damn mean. What makes you think you deserve a present?”

Jesus Christ, if this man doesn't let you cum you're gonna seriously kill him.

“No, I promise I can be a good girl for you, baby, please” he's about to say something else when you drop to your knees, effectively shutting him up. “Let me make it up for you. Show you how good I can be.”

You try to get closer to his legs, but the movements make you wince when your knees scratch against the hard floor. You look around for something to place below your legs, but Taehyung quickly catches on.

“Here” you lift your head just in time to see him pulling his hoodie above his head, revealing his long, toned torso, golden skin shining with a thin layer of sweat and just begging for you to lick and suck some marks up his stomach.

You're so entranced by his chest, that you take a second to understand he's giving you his clothing, and you don't give it much thought before placing it under your legs. The relief is immediate.

“Thanks.”

He doesn't answer when your hands spread over his strong thighs, creeping up his leg to his crotch. The hardness of his cock under your palm makes you lick your lips, and you squeeze him, eliciting a sigh out of him. You hook your hands on his waistband, not wasting another second before pulling both his sweatpants and underwear down his legs.

The sight of him almost makes you choke. He's big. So fucking big and thick, but also the prettiest fucking dick you've ever seen and the realization makes you just as frustrated as it makes you wetter. His tip is engorged, flushing dark as a bead of precum accumulates at the crown. God, what a fucking sight to behold. You admire it for a second, mouth watering as you anticipate its weight on your tongue.

“Look so damn beautiful like that, baby.” He praises, hand coming down to wrap around the base of his length. “Wanna suck me?”

“Yes.”

“Go on then.” He pumps himself. “Suck my cock like a good girl.”

You promptly open your mouth, sticking your tongue out and welcoming the weight of his member with a loud moan. You suck his slit, tasting the salty precum with a satisfied hum before licking up his length. You glisten him with your saliva before flicking your thumb over his tip, teasing him and making Taehyung gulp above you.

“You’re so big,” you whine, and he twitches “so fucking sensitive too.”

You alternate between long and short licks, soaking him and coaxing sweet hisses out of his mouth. Your fingers rub his crown, and you wrap your lips around it to give it a dainty suck.

“Look at me” you command, smiling when he does — a large, loving smile before you take his tip closer to your lips and let your spit fall on his cock, spreading it all over his length.

“Holy fuck” he shudders, a long elongated groan passing his parted lips “so fucking hot.”

Pride fills your face as you dive to kiss at his base, palm diligently working on his tip. After some minutes of thorough, but tame motions, Taehyung finally caves in, tone laced in exasperation. “Stop teasing, princess” you can feel your panties sticking to your pussy “do something already.”

“But I’m giving you so much already.” You pout.

“No, no—” his groan is nothing but frustrated “c’mon, don’t you wanna be good for me?”

“Ain’t this good?” You smirk, hand still leisurely stroking his now painfully hard cock.

“You’re so mean.”

“Really? Then I should just stop.” You pause your hand, and Taehyung’s hips jolt.

“Baby” his tone is a warning, and you know you’re playing a dangerous game here, one that’ll definitely bite you in the ass later, but fuck it. It's already so worth it just to see the way his thighs clench and his gaze burns through you.

“You want me to suck you?” You lick your lips slowly, directing his impatient eyes to your tongue.

“Yes, princess.”

“Then why don’t you beg for me, Tae? Ask me real nice and I’ll think about it.”

He chuckles.

Actually chuckles in a weird, choked way, but the ferocity that clouds his eyes only makes you that much more horny. And maybe it’s because he doesn’t fucking care, or — if the throabbing of his dick is anything to go by — maybe he’s just too hard to think properly, but when he opens his mouth again is to grant you the sweetest fucking words you’ve ever heard.

“Please, princess. Be a good girl for me and suck my cock. Make me proud.” You grin.

“With pleasure.”

And you do it, because god knows how much you want it too.

If your pace was teasing, insufficient before, now Taehyung feels on the verge of passing out with the way you sink his length inside the heat of your mouth. The second you take to adjust to the stretch is not nearly enough for him to adjust to the devastating pleasure that you elicit on him, and Taehyung just instantly knows he'll lose his mind when your head starts moving up and down his dick with finality.

“That’s it baby, so fucking good.” He growls, bewitched by the way his cock disappears inside your mouth, mind blanking when you start to hollow your cheeks.

Every little sigh, every breathy moan and especially his strained praises just spur you on, encouraging you to take more and more of him with each passing, relaxing your jaw to the best of your abilities. The noises filling the living room are anything but decent, but the vulgarity of it just makes it even more delicious.

“Sucking me so well” when you glance up, you can’t help but moan at how fucked out Taehyung looks. Mouth hanging open, eyes glazed with bliss while sweat collects on his forehead, dark hair sticking to his glowing skin as he swallows. You release him with a pop, a string of saliva still connecting you to his tip as you try to catch your breath — hands not stopping. Taehyung’s thumb finds your chin, and you lick your mouth clean “You’re sexy as fuck.”

You take two seconds to make a decision.

“Want you to cum in my throat.”

He looks at you as if you just punched him.

“You want my cum?”

“Want all you’re willing to give me.” And it's true. “Can you do that for me?”

“Fuck yes, baby. Wanna paint that sweet fucking throat of yours.”

You smile up to him, and when your attention returns to his cock you make sure to trace every inch, every vein with your tongue, making it as slippery as possible.

Taking a deep breath, you bring him to your lips again, letting your tongue lay flat under his length as you begin to push it further down your mouth. When he hits the back of your throat, you try to control your gagging and relax your jaw to better accommodate him — and also to not suffocate or something.

“You have no idea how hot you look right now.” But you kinda do, though, if the way he throbs inside you and his knees slightly tremble is any indication.

You start to slowly stretch your throat with him, and Taehyung’s overwhelmed expression is enough to make you deeply moan. His hips jolt at the vibration, making you choke.

“Shit, sorry” he backtracks, helping you recover before you’re guiding him inside again.

When your nose brushes the skin of his stomach, you know you’re not gonna be able to hold in for much longer, and you need him to cum soon, so you push through the discomfort, the tears and the way you just know your throat is gonna be sore as fuck after this, and swallow.

“Ju–just like that, that’s it” he stutters, “I'm close.”

You resume your bobbing movements, head relentless bouncing up and down his cock before you take your hands to his balls. He shudders when your light massage turns into a more thorough fondling and squeezing while you suck around him.

When you glance up at him — tear-filled eyes with nothing but lust looking up at his mesmerized ones with your mouth full of him — Taehyung’s body shudders. Shockwave after shockwave of pleasure erupts on his body, and you can feel the thick stripes of cum shooting down your throat while your lips suck on his tip, milking his high as much as you can — and he cums so much that you struggle to swallow it all. When he removes his cock from your mouth, sucked dry, he’s still jolting with sensitivity.

“Jesus fuck” he closes his eyes tightly, trying to ground himself. You clear your throat, licking around your mouth to collect any left juices. “You’re unreal.”

He grabs your chin.

“Let me see.” You open your mouth, tongue sticking out to show him no traces of his orgasm. “Such a good girl.”

He then grabs your forearms, pulling you to your feet.

Taehyung gives you no time to stabilize yourself before his lips are on yours, but it’s only after he secures your wobbling form in a tight, strong embrace that you’re able to kiss him back. Your fingers trace up and down his biceps with as much languidness as he makes out with you with. And it surprises you, because you can’t possibly taste good right now, but his lips are so soft that you don’t even protest, thankful for the unhurried touch.

When he breaks the kiss, it’s to pull you into a hug — full on giggling into your ear.

“Fucking thank you.”

You laugh.

“You thanking me for a blowjob?”

Neither of you care about how hoarse your voice sounds, but you clear your throat to try and soothe some of the roughness nevertheless.

“Hell yeah, your mouth is amazing. Feel like you just sucked me stupid.”

You laugh even harder.

“Nah, I feel like you were already pretty stupid before that.”

His chuckle tickles your ear, leaning his head so his lips touch your shoulder.

“Oh. You completely ruined my hoodie, by the way.”

“What?” You pull away from him in an instant. Gaze falling to his clothes on your feet — and the new wet patch that tinges the gray fabric darker. Your eyes widen in mild panic. “Shit, I'm so sorry, oh my god, I'll—”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, you should be sorry. How dare you get horny from sucking my dick, that's just unacceptable.” You pause, face still hot when Taehyung pulls you back to him, guiding his hands between your legs. The pad of his fingers ghost over your pussy, feeling all your arousal through the damp lace. “God, look at that.” He taunts, and his fingers rise to hook under the sides of your panties, pulling them up and pressing the fabric up your skin. He clicks his tongue. “This must be so uncomfortable.”

“Mhmm” you nod, tightening your grip on his arms.

“What do you say, baby? Think you deserve a present now?”

“Yes.” You sigh when he pulls your underwear even higher.

“No, no, baby. How do we say?”

“Pretty please?” You pout and he grins.

“Uhm, now that's better.”

And then he's kissing you again — but gone is the softness of his lips, now hungrily moving against yours. His hands find your ass, gripping and kneading you to his liking.

The way he shifts from shy-smiling-face-surrounded-by-hearts emoji to smirking-devil emoji is sure to make you lose your mind — and you can't fucking wait.

As you two stumble to your room, you make sure to not leave any inch of his golden skin unattended: bruising up his neck like he did yours, tugging on his hair and running your palms all over his body. Taehyung guides you past your threshold, handling you with care until the back of your knees hits the bed. He hurries you on top of it, promptly falling above you.

“You're so hot” he breathes, lips following the path between your breasts, “the hottest girl I’ve even fucking seen.” He sounds almost angry.

You’re panting as he kisses down your stomach, body squirming in anticipation — gasping when he hoists you closer to the headboard.

“Damn, princess, you’re so desperate.” He chuckles, sucking a hickey onto your hips. “Pussy must be begging for some good fucking.”

“Yes,” you sigh “want you so fucking bad.”

His smirk is devilish, lips hovering down your skin until they're just above your aching core. You raise your hips, trying to get closer to his face, but he easily avoids you.

“Tae,” you whine. “Please.”

“You wanna cum, baby?” You nod eagerly, and he shakes his head, slapping the side of your thigh. “Words.”

“Yes! Fuck, I wan— I need to cum.”

“Good.” And just like that, he is gone, sitting back on his heels.

You grunt.

“Taehyung, I'm not above murder, you should know.”

He laughs, hands coming down to your ankles and pushing them apart. His eyes are immediately drawn to your pussy — or, rather, to your arousal soaking through your panties.

“You're so wet, baby. Feel like you can cum just if I look at you nice enough.”

“Taehyung” you glare, but your voice is too shaky to hold any power against him.

“I want you to show me.” He says, and the instant confusion on your face prompts a sheepish smile on his own. “How.” He clarifies, massaging your calves. “Want you to finish what you started this morning.”

The prospect of teaching him how to please you makes you warm all over, and if you weren't so distressed you might deny it, ask for his tongue or his fingers — but you are desperate, and no one can make you cum faster than yourself. So your hands jump to the sides of your panties, already pushing them down when Taehyung’s hands stop you.

“Want them on.”

“Kinky” you tease, earning a dramatic eye roll.

You hook a finger around the center of the fabric and push it aside.

Taehyung’s gaze grows darker when you expose your bare pussy, and he slowly licks his lips. His feasting eyes are entranced by the way your arousal drips down your folds, slicking you all the way down to your ass. He swallows thickly, hands pushing your legs further apart.

You don’t give him enough time to bask at the sight, though, because your fingers find your entrance immediately after, spreading your juices around before coming up to circle your clit.

The well-deserved, but so fucking delayed attention making your his jolt. Not wasting any second, you hurriedly roll your fingers, closing your eyes to focus on your precise, familiar movements.

After feeling lubricated enough, you sink two fingers inside your cunt and curl them to stroke your g-spot. Loud, wet squelching sounds fill the room, but you can still hear Taehyung’s ragged breathing above you; his soft grunts encouraging you as you keep fingering yourself, whispering sweet nothings to you. He tells you how pretty you look, how good you are for him, how hot you look when you’re knuckles deep inside your dripping pussy. You take your free hand to your tits, pushing them out of their confinements to twist and pinch your nipples.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby, look at that” his voice is thick with lust, “such a filthy girl.”

His words tighten the knot in your stomach.

“I–I bet I’ll take your cock so well.”

“Yeah? Fuck, I can’t wait to stretch you, princess.” When you open his eyes, you almost cum just from Taehyung’s all-consuming gaze alone, completely hypnotized by the way your fingers disappear inside your cunt.

“My thighs,” it comes out so quietly that you force yourself to speak again, “grab my thighs.”

Taehyung takes a second to process your words, but then his hands are on you. Massaging, gripping, pinching and squeezing the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs with such enthusiasm that will surely leave bruises there too. The added stimulation makes you arch your spine off the bed, eyes rolling back as you can feel more arousal soaking through your fingers.

“Shit, you’re so fucking sexy. Gonna make me all hard again.” He moans, and his movements pause for a split second before he asks: “are you close, baby?”

Your legs start to tremble, and every hit to your g-spot makes you whimper.

“Yeah” you breathe, barely registering his words at this point.

“Look at me.” He commands, and you do. “You wanna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes.”

“Wanna make me proud?”

“Yes!” You scream, tears blurring your vision — but his next words make your whole body stiffen.

“Then stop.”

You don’t. You can’t. But your fingers do lose momentum.

“What?”

“Stop.” And a slow smirk creeps up his face as yours scrunches up in hazed confusion. “You’re not cumming until I want you to.”

When you fully realize what he’s asking you, your orgasm has already been washed far out of reach. You shudder as your fingers leave your pussy, the tears collected from the pleasure roll down as frustration, but when you open your mouth to complain, Taehyung slots himself between your parted legs. His hair tickles your thighs as he pushes your underwear aside and suddenly licks up your cunt, tongue gathering all the arousal from your folds before his lips close around your clit, sucking hard.

The unexpected stimulation makes your hips jut, shuddering so violently that Taehyung pulls away, chuckling lightly as confusion coats his expression.

“Did you just cum?”

“No!” You whine. “I just… I want to cum so bad, I was so, so goddamn close and now I’m just sensitive as fuck.”

He gives your clit an experimental kiss and you grunt, hands fisting the sheets.

“Shit” he smiles, “that’s just too bad.”

Your head snaps up.

“What… what you mean?”

“You teased the shit out of me before, sweetheart. I’m still deciding if I’ll let you cum.”

“Taehyung,” you sob, “if I don’t cum soon I think I’ll legitimately die.”

“Poor thing.” He mocks.

“I’m so serious right now, please don’t do that.”

Another kiss to your swollen pussy.

“Then fucking beg, princess.”

Well, that you can do.

“Baby, please” you sigh “please, I’m so sorry for teasing you, just–just please make me cum. Let me cum, please.”

He chuckles.

“As you wish.”

He swiftly pulls your damp panties down your legs, tossing it on the floor behind him, and then his warm tongue meets your pussy again. This time, though, you swear Taehyung is trying to fucking suffocate himself on you. He flicks your clit the same way your fingers did, skillfully twisting it and eating you out with devotion — and you sure feel worshiped. Worshiped by the way he moans, enjoying it as much as you; by the way he swirls his tongue around your clit and licks your dripping juices; but also by the way he grabs your thighs, long fingers massaging and digging on the flesh.

The stimulation is so hard and you’re so pent up, that it doesn’t take longer than five minutes of him thoroughly eating your pussy for you to start to feel your orgasm slowly building up on your body again.

“That’s it, Tae, fu–fuck” you cry out “eating me out so good, just like that.”

You’re basically grinding on his face now, and he flattens his tongue to encourage you to ride him as you please.

“Taste so fucking sweet” he hums. “Should’ve had this for Christmas dinner.”

Your chuckle is shaken when Taehyung plunges one of his fingers inside your walls, stroking you gradually to stretch you up.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He mutters. “Do you want my cock?” You nod, biting down on your lip. He doesn’t appreciate it, humming against you. “Tell me.”

“I–I want… want your cock.”

“Wanna give it to you, baby, but I’ll need you to relax for me. Let me stretch you.”

And you certainly try, but you feel so tense, so desperate to cum that you can’t seem to find your breath.

“That’s–that’s your fucking fault!” You hiss when he finally starts to thrust his fingers faster. “Edging the— nghh, fuck outta me.”

He smiles against your pussy, but says nothing when he slowly introduces a second finger. His movements are precise, careful not to hurt you but determined as he scissors you open, slowing down for you to adjust every time you flinch or so much as goes silent above him. He also changes the pace of his mouth to try and help loosen you up, and holy fuck, you don’t think you have the capacity of imagining such sweet, toe-curling oral, not even in your filthiest, most unrealistic dreams.

When he works you up to three fingers, Taehyung has to pin you down with his free hand to stop you from lifting your hips.

“Shit! Feels so–so fucking good” you whimper.

“Grab my hair.” And you do, hand releasing the sheets to push his sweaty locks away from his view, and the intensity of his eyes on yours almost makes you feel more naked somehow.

“Jesus fu— nghh”.

Taehyung now fingers you at a relentless pace, and the skill with which he does it — angling his fingers to hit your g-spot, reaching for different sensitive areas and making your walls clench around him — is almost overwhelming.

Your legs quiver, threatening to close around his face.

“Close?”

You’re kinda scared to answer, but it’s not like you can hide it anyway.

“I’m so close! Please, Tae, let me–let me cum!”

The pleasure running through your body is so intense you feel like you could actually pass out if he denies yet another orgasm, and he can surely feel your anguish as you start to chase his face, chuckling lightly before finally saying the sweet words, “Then cum for me, princess. Cum all over my face.”

The orgasm that he coaxes out of you is maddening. Your mind blanks as your pussy clamps down hard on his fingers — which continue to thrust into, prolonging your pleasure. Your whole body shudders, toes curling with everlasting bliss, but you are surprisingly able to keep your eyes open. The sight of him, between your legs, eating you out through your high and making sure to collect every bit of your sweet release on his warm tongue is almost enough to make you cum again.

When you finally come down, refamiliarizing yourself with the whole concept of breathing, Taehyung is looking at you as if you’re sin incarnated, a loose smile on his lips. You feel so spent, but suddenly so impatient too.

“Want you to fuck me.” It’s the first thing you say after your head stops spinning.

He laughs.

“Barely took my fingers out and you’re already asking for more, damn.” He peppers your thighs with soft, soothing kisses. “Pussy so fucking greedy.”

“I want you so bad.” Your voice is so small, so quiet. You swallow dry.

“I want you to, baby.” He comes up to kiss you, sliding his tongue against yours in such a sloppy, lazy way that you can’t help but smile, ignoring the taste of your cum lingering on his mouth. “You made me so hard again, fuck.”

Taehyung grabs your thighs and hooks them around his waist. He takes his fingers to your pussy again, smearing some of your release around to better slicken you up. After deeming you lubricated enough, he guides his dick to your cunt. He drags his tip along your dripping folds, and your breath hitches.

“Fuck, you’re soaking my cock.” He grins. “Who got you this wet, baby?”

“Taehyung,” you sigh, heels pressing down on his lower back, “don’t you dare tease me again.”

“Then answer the question.” He rolls his hips harder over yours, rubbing your clit. “‘Cus I can be pretty fucking patient.”

“Fuck you.”

“I let you cum one time and you’re already talking back again.” He clicks his tongue. “One more chance, baby. Who got this pussy so… fucking… wet?” He punctuates every word with a slap of his cock against your cunt, and you gasp each time, digging your fingers on his back.

“Ungh, fuck, yo–you! Shit, you did, Tae.”

“I made you cum so fucking hard, didn’t I?” He smirks, and your hips jump slightly.

“The hardest” you whimper.

Taehyung’s so fucking glad you gave in this fast — because there’s only so much time he could endure teasing you while being desperate as fuck to feel the warmth of your cunt, to feel you wrapping around his cock the way you did around his fingers. With a deep exhale, he shifts to position his dick at your entrance.

“How do you want it?”

“Rough.” You don’t hesitate.

“Rough? Want me to be rough with you, princess?” Taehyung feels dizzy.

“Yes, please.”

“Yeah? Wanna be fucked like a slut?”

The shiver that runs through your body could’ve been enough of an answer, but you still grant him a breathy confirmation: “Yes, Tae. Want you to fuck me dumb.”

His eyes flutter shut, and, with his last thread of sanity, Taehyung starts to slowly press his dick inside of you.

He is right. You are soaked. But he’s still the biggest cock you’ve ever had. So, despite his attentive fingering and the insane orgasm he just gave you, your face still translates your discomfort as he stretches you up. Taehyung follows your cues, stopping whenever you wince and shallowly thrusting to ease you to his size, letting you adjust before moving deeper.

When his hips finally — finally — are flush against yours, you both exhale shakily.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He digs his fingers in the flesh of your thigh. “You good? Does it hurt?”

“No… just,” you exhale deeply, “gimme a second.”

While you focus on accommodating his size, Taehyung clears his throat.

“I uh, wanted to ask you something.” You notice the subtle distress in his voice, and the gaze you find when you open your eyes is filled with concern. “And be real with me.” You frown, expression slowly matching his.

“... yeah?”

He hesitates, eyes darting away from you.

“Are you… like, actually into furry?”

You burst into laughter, shoulders shaking when you bring your hands to cover your face. Taehyung’s chuckles are unsure when he joins you, flinching when your body trembles slightly.

“Be honest!”

“Fuck you, Tae, honestly. You’re balls deep inside of me seriously asking me this shit.”

“I mean, I can’t grow a beard for my life, but we can figure something out if—”

“Oh god, stop! I do not have a furry kink, Jesus.”

“Thank god!” He sighs. “Was really worried for a second.” Your laughter prompts a smile on his face, and he lowers his face to give you a quick peck on your lips.

“You can move now, by the way.”

“You sure?” You nod, pulling him closer.

“Let’s get on to fucking.”

He frowns.

“Damn, you gotta work on your dirty talk.”

“What? You were just talking about furry.”

“It’s different.” He huffs. “I’ll give you one more chance.”

You roll your eyes.

“Go on, baby, rock my world.”

He chuckles.

“C’mon, that’s not doing anything for me here.”

At that comment, you shift and clench around his cock. His hips buck, reaching even deeper. You pout.

“You seem pretty hard for me.” You hiss when he smacks the side of your thigh.

“You’re such a brat.”

“Just fuck me already.” You brows knit together, and you flicker your eyes down to where your bodies meet, licking your lips. “Please, Tae.”

“You see? That’s way better.”

And fuck you he does.

When Taehyung pushes himself out of you, leaving just the tip, you barely have time to breathe before he’s slamming back inside.

The feeling of his skin dragging against your velvet walls has your mind immediately blanking, head falling back on the pillow.

The ease with which he finds a pace makes you melt under him. You’re already so sensitive from your previous orgasm and all his stupid teasing that you just know this will set a pathetic low time record, but you don’t fucking care. You deserve to feel this fucking good, and Taehyung seems to know that too, because despite the struggle it is to keep his eyes open — the desire to shut them and focus on the delicious feeling of your warm pussy squeezing his cock almost unbearable — his gaze is still trained in your face. In the way you bite your lip, or release it in a silent moan when he gets the angle just right; the way your brows knit together in bliss, or arch to your hairline with a particular hard thrust; or, yet, in the way your hold on him turns almost painful, sure to leave him bruised in the sweetest possible way, whenever he leans over you and brushes your clit.

Taehyung is a slow learner — but he learns, and he won’t close his fucking eyes until he identifies how to unwind you, how to fuck you so good he’ll ruin every other dick for you. And he seems to find it when, after a swift change in his angle, you let out a loud, tortuous scream under him, sending a large, proud smirk to his face.

“That’s it–that’s— nghh, fuck, baby, there!” You cry out, lifting your hips off the bed to try and create even more contact as his cock hits your g-spot.

“You feel so good” feral grunts spill from his mouth as he lets his eyes fall shut, “squeezing my cock so fucking tight” he groans.

Taehyung has never felt more grounded, more present. The slapping sounds, your cries, his grunts, everything is so fucking vulgar. The way the soft flesh of your thighs mold under his palm, the way he fills you to the brim every fucking time is good enough proof that this is real, that this breathtaking pleasure is real, and that Taehyung is really fucking you.

“Been… wanting to–to fuck you for so long.” He pants.

You arch your spine off the bed, chest pressing on his.

“Holy fuck.”

“God, can’t believe this is happening.” He growls.

Your senses, on the other hand, are clouded by the feeling of his cock splitting you, fucking your body senseless and pounding into you like a man on a mission. His size, his girth, the way he twitches inside of you, making your walls even sloppier… he’ll be the end of you. You never wanted to please someone more, especially after having his mouth on you, and you can feel your control gradually slipping away every time he fills you up, reality a distant idea as he fucks you closer to euphoria. And god, you’re so fucking close.

“Yes! Yes, baby, that–that’s it” you sob, hands fisting the sheets so tightly that — if you were thinking properly — you'd be afraid of ripping it.

“God, you're… nghhn— fuck, you feel so good.” He gasps. “Are you close?”

“So fucking close.” You barely acknowledge the words leaving you, the knot in your stomach about to snap.

At your words, Taehyung’s hand leaves your thighs to reach behind your back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall somewhere in the room. He leans over you, mouth immediately closing around your left nipple, while his large fingers twist and roll the right one. You arch into his touch, sighing when his tongue swirls around your nipple.

“The most perfect tits…” he hums, glazing your chest in his spit as he seeks the other with wet kisses.

“Tae” you moan, hands entangling in his hair and pulling hard, prompting him to give your nipple a light, barely there bite, but it’s enough to make your hips shake under him. “Fuck, I’m… I’m gonna cum.”

“Yes, baby, cum for me. Cream my cock like a good girl.” He moans, words slurred as he lifts his gaze to you.

Your body starts to shudder violently as he pushes another orgasm out of you. Your legs quiver around his waist and your pussy clenches tightly, shoving a deep, guttural groan from Taehyung’s throat while your mind spirals, washing away any thoughts as his name falls lazily from your lips.

It takes a solid minute before you start to think again, body still rocking with his thrusts as he keeps chasing his own release high. You wince at the overstimulation.

“Tae” you whine, fingers digging into his back.

“C’mon, baby, ain’t this what you wanted?” He slows his pace before grabbing your legs and placing them on his shoulder, thighs firmly pressing on his chest. He sinks his cock deep inside of you with each snap of his hips, and you’re immediately gasping for air. “Didn’t you wanna be fucked like a slut?”

“Nghh” god, how is he so fucking good at this.

“You wanted to be fucked dumb. Wasn't it?” You eagerly nod, words evading you. “Then give me one more.” He breathes. “Let me see that pretty face again.”

Taehyung’s not slow, nor gentle this time. Your previous orgasms make his strokes that much easier, more delicious. Loud wet, squelching sounds fall from where your bodies meet.

“Fuuuck— pussy so fucking good.” His praise shoots straight to your core.

As naturally as before, he falls into a rhythm, slamming inside of you. Your head falls back on the pillow, dazed as the position makes him feel even girthier, bigger inside your sensitive walls, rendering you completely unable to form a single thought that isn’t his dick pistoning inside. The new angle allows him to reach even deeper, and you can feel every inch of him throbbing inside of you, grazing your g-spot in a way that has you gasping for air.

The slapping sounds of his skin on yours are sinful, and you take your hands to your tits, slicked with his spit, fondling with them to add to the ever growing bliss.

He wants to keep saying shit, spill the filthiest fucking stuff just the way he notices that makes you wetter around his cock — but the closer he gets, less can he think properly, his filter completely dissolving.

“Wanna fuck you forever. Watch you cum for days.”

And fuck if that isn’t enticing as fuck for you too.

Your legs get a bit sore from their bent position, but you wouldn’t mind having him fold you half if it meant getting to see Taehyung’s brows knitting together, lips falling apart in silent delight.

“So-so… good… fucking me so good.” Your voice is muffled by the hard banging of the headboard against the wall.

“Shit. I’m close.” You nod. “Where do you want me to—”

“Inside” you interrupt, answer spilling from your lips.

He brokenly moans, mind blanking as his resolve quickly slips away. Thrusting impossibly harder, pouding impossibly faster, Taehyung fucks you eager to fullfil your request.

You already feel ready to cum again, an odd pressure weighing down on your lower belly. Your mouth falls open, whispering, or rather, mumbling sweet nothings or muddled filth to him — unsure if he's even listening — as pleasure clouds your mind to the point of incoherence.

“Taking me so fucking well, pussy made for my cock.”

Taehyung takes his hand down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit with ease as he starts to rub it, pressing and circling it with the pad of his fingers as a hard, unannounced orgasm crashes over you. You’re unable to keep still when every nerve of your body jolts with electricity, overstimulation making you lift your back from the bed as a loud scream rips through your throat.

The pleasure that overtakes you blanks your mind, and for a second you feel like you can't stop cumming. Taehyung sounds so distant, and you feel so high, so heavenly, that you almost think you're dreaming the whole thing.

“— all over me.” Is the first thing you hear when your mind starts to clear and your body slowly calms down.

“Huh?”

You wince as Taehyung keeps fucking into you, pace now careless as he gets close to release, and you tighten your gasp on his arms, fighting through the oversensitivity.

“You just fucking squirted all over me.” You blink at his words, taking a full minute to process them before your head is snapping up in alarm.

Everything is so wet, so sloppy and messy, but before you can say anything — before embarrassment can even reach your skin — Taehyung's body is shaking above you.

“Shit, shit, shit—” He shudders. “I’m cumming.”

His groans are deep as you feel his hot release painting your walls. He digs his fingers into the flesh of your waist, hips jolting with the waves of his pleasure as he squeezes his eyes shut to focus on the overwhelming thrill running through his body. He feels so alight, as if he's just been set on fire, and every inch of him burns with bliss.

“Jesus fuck.”

A lazy smile spreads on your face when he kisses your calves, gently pushing them to rest on the bed. He crashes on top of you, frantic breathing cooling the sweaty skin of your chest.

“I've also…” you gulp, closing your eyes, “also been wanting this for so long, by the way.”

You feel him smiling against your skin.

“Damn. I’m so happy I might just puke.”

Your body shakes in laughter.

“God, you’re so annoying.” You pinch his side and he squirms, chuckling before tilting his head to face you.

“I kinda get the Jungkook now, though.” You frown, and he opens a large, boxy smile. “I fucking love Soojin. Best gift ever.”

You giggle, heat creeping up your neck.

“Ugh, get off me.” You push him away, and Taehyung shifts on the bed, hovering over you.

He pulls his softening cock out of your swollen pussy, and you can see his eyes glimmering before his fingers are spreading your folds apart.

“Shit” he hisses, and you can feel the wet mix of his cum and your own release dripping down your folds. Taehyung doesn’t give you any warning before he’s diving down, licking you clean with a swipe of his tongue and making you shudder. He closes his eyes, humming as he swallows everything. After that, he moves to step out of bed, uttering a quick “hold up” before he’s out of the room.

You can hear some cabinets and drawers opening before he’s back, a towel in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He proceeds to clean you up with the softest, more tender touches possible, mindful of your sensitivity and halting his movements whenever you flinch, while you soothe your raspy throat.

“You might need to sleep with me tonight.” You frown. “You made such a fucking mess. Sheets are ruined.”

You scoff.

“And who’s fault is that?”

He smirks.

“Sorry I fucked you so good.” You giggle, covering your face when you feel your cheeks warming up.

“So annoying.”

Jungkook loves Taehyung. They’ve been friends for ten years now and — although there have been days — Jungkook would never change anything about his friend.

…

Maybe make him a bit less murderous in the kitchen. But besides? Taehyung is perfect.

…

Okay, maybe not perfect. No one is perfect, and Taehyung did tell a younger, inexperienced and quite stupid Jungkook that girls get hot when you touch the back of their knees. Not to mention that time when Taehyung dragged Jungkook to a regency costume party — a ridiculous one at that: how is a vampire not a historical costume? He was fucking hot with those red lenses, putting Robert Pattinson to shame with that glitter body spray.

Anyway, the point is: he loves and cherishes Taehyung, especially the sweet fucking body lotions this guy uses (fuck, he smells good). And he knows Taehyung too. He knows Taehyung better than anyone in the world, probably better than Taehyung himself. And that’s why he knows, the second Soojin confesses what she got you for Christmas, that Taehyung isn’t gonna deal well with it.

“For the last time, babe,” Soojin explains, “a woman should never be ashamed of wanting to feel sexy. You men keep making us feel vulgar about our sexual lives, and create all this taboo about our bodies. No wonder why we hate ourselves. In fact, did you know that—”

“Soojin,” Jungkook sighs, pulling their bags out of the uber’s trunk, “I’m just saying that maybe, maybe, you could’ve given her a heads up not to open the gift with Taehyung… they’re probably super awkward already and a fucking lingerie set won’t help.”

Soojin huffs.

“You have no faith in Taehyung.” Jungkook stops in the pathway to the chalet door, giving his girlfriend a pointed look.

“I know Taehyung, it’s different. This will either make him super self conscious about how he fucking vomited on her, or make him wanna swallow his fist because of how horny he’ll get. Either way he’ll malfunction.” Jungkook pauses. “Fucking is also an option.”

She pouts.

“But didn’t he say that they were cool?”

“Fucking is cool, but he could’ve also meant that he’s been locked in his room for three days.” Jungkook’s face twists in concern. “We’re lucky if he even got out to eat.”

“We’re lucky if they didn’t cook anything. The last thing we need is them food poisoning one another.”

“Not to worry. Taehyung knows the treatment by heart now.”

They reach the door, and Soojin grabs the keys in her purse. They’re careful as they step inside, mindful of it barely being past six in the morning, but any attempt at silence is futile when Soojin’s attention is drawn to the living room couch.

“The fuck?!” She screams, scaring Jungkook to drop down the bags.

The sharp sound makes you jump away from Taehyung’s lap, losing your balance and falling ass first on the hard floor.

The four of you freeze for a moment, sharing weird, confused looks before Taehyung’s heart finally resumes to a normal pace and he understands that no, the house isn’t being invaded and you two won’t get robbed in nothing but underwear, he can’t help but glare at his best friend.

“Jungkook why the fuck are you here?” He says, extending a hand to help you on the couch after you find your discarded shirt on the floor.

“Wow, nice to see you too, asshole.” Jungkook’s eyes flicker to the TV when music starts to play through its speakers, a deep frown settleting on his features. “You watching Grinch? The hell?”

Soojin turns to her boyfriend.

“Is Grinch really the most unexpected thing here?”

“Tae, did she force you to watch Grinch?” He narrows his eyes. “You know this ain’t good for you. You won’t be able to sleep.”

Taehyung groans.

“Jungkook, shut up.”

You quickly put on your pajama top, tugging it as further down as you can.

You open an awkward smile.

“Thanks for the gift, Soojin! We— uhm, I really loved it.”

note ↠ sooo, what do we think? 🥹 i hope y’all liked it! it took sO LONG to upload this omg, tumblr just wasn’t vibbing with our himbo!tae 😔 but it's here! i actually had to learn some quick html codes to edit this lol, i'm so stressed

note² ↠ all form of feedback is deeply appreciated!

note³ ↠ thank you so so very much for reading it 🥹

note⁴ ↠ you can go back to navigation here

740 notes · View notes

maleyhae · 1 year

Text

YOUR IN HER DMS I'M IN HER BED WE ARE NOT THE SAME b.k x fem!reader

2023! Bill x reader

summary- some desprate dude is in your dms and bill is make fun of it i guess irdk

warnings- jealousy! bill maybe cussing a weirdo that keeps trying with you, grammar issues, rushed like always, not proofread

yesterdays post

i don't consent to my work being copied, translated, or posted on any other website thank you <3

a/n- wasn't gonna make then i saw a moots (@toikohotelslut post about how she needed more 2023 bill fics :3

3RD POV:

___ phone keep going off as they were trying to watch a movie Bill was getting annoyed because his girlfriend's phone was blowing up. He knew since April of this year they gain some more fame from Tik Tok but holy hell. Both his band and the band she was in. Some people found her hot since she was gothic guitarist and he understood but holy hell. "My love can you check my phone I don't want to and because I don't won't you thinking I'm doing something wrong." she said. "What was the password again honey..?" "(the day y'all got together)" ___ said.

100 fucking Instagram messages, 200 mentions of this fucker calling her his girlfriend. Bill checked the messages.

"___ I'm a huge fan please respond.!!"

"I'd be a better boyfriend than him." how dare he bill though.

*image sent* just a edit and say how horny he got because of her.

"*dick pics*" God this man did not stop.

"Whatever you're not all that anymore god what I'd do to get in you back from the 2000s." perverted and a asshole.

BILLS POV:

"Hey dove want a take a picture together?" "Yeah babe I'd love to!" she said bubbly a whole different person she was form when she was only 15 in the same year that disgusting perverted pig wanted to fuck her in. Me and her style has changed from emo/ gothic to whatever people called our style now. We got done take a picture I sent it with a caption of "you're in her dms and I'm in her bed so clearly I'm better than you=)" petty? yes worth it? oh hell yes.

A/N: Hi again sorry this is short i didn't really have i deas for it this tbh but life update because why not! im reading agggtm talking to a new dude and if you have ideas please let me know you can dm me here or on discord my @ is @v4mpgirly !! i hope you enoyed

#tokio hotel #bill kaulitz #maleyhae fanfictions #maleyhae events!#maleyhae halloween event #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz imagines #2023!bill kaulitz #i 🫶 bill kaulitz

189 notes · View notes

twstbookclub · 6 months

Text

Faded Away

SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 INCLUDED; THIS IS AN AU. THIS IS SIDE A OF A TWO PART STORY. HERE IS SIDE B.

This is side A.

Inspired by Fade Away by Riley Baron Summary: Childhood friends with Malleus, you were even supposed to marry him. You'd call him your fiancé, but he'd shoot you down with a smile. One day, Maleficia would announce that you would no longer be engaged to Malleus, but you had already decided to renounce that before, so it was okay. For Malleus, after experiencing loss in his life, everything he adored before began to fade away. Pronouns: Gender Neutral POV: 2nd Admin/Writer: Kai⚔️ Tags: Malleus Draconia, Changed fate, Childhood friends to lovers, lovers to strangers, angst with a sad ending, hurt no comfort Word count: 3,961

A/N: … sigh. If someone had told me a year ago that I would write nearly 4,000 words for Malleus Draconia angst, I would've laughed in their face. Despite that, I wrote this for two days and edited it for another two. I fixated on this man for FOUR DAYS nonstop, listening to playlists about falling in love with your comfort character but then saying goodbye, and I am still not done. I am genuinely proud of this work. Out of the 7 years I have been writing fanfiction, I have never been so happy to say this is one of my best works. And I don't really like Malleus like that. Attack me all y'all want, I know book 7 spoilers, and I was his stan(not simp) until I found out the truth and had to take a step BACK. I don't know what I feel about him now, but as a Silver girlie, I need someone to take the pen away from Yana Toboso.

Regardless of my feelings, I am glad I could write this and that the story turned out amazing. As I said, I'm not done, and I have another fic posting as soon as this one drops, so don't stray too far.

On that note, thank you for waiting and reading this long, longer than I would like to admit story. Enjoy.

The horns of this child were small, but the eyes of another child were fascinated at the sight of such a mature boy. The boy’s name was Malleus Draconia, the future King of Briar Valley. You were told that you would become his fiance when you grew up. You could feel your heart instantly pound and become fond of this young royal. You had already known him prior, growing up around the same time, and your families were somewhat close. Still, you couldn’t have imagined being able to marry him later down the line. He was aloof and neutral as a child, speaking to you when you would talk to him and only if he had a response. You loved him that way, anyway.

“You’re my… fiance?”

“I am! Don’t worry; I won’t go anywhere if it’s not with you!”

“Hmm… Then I can accept that.”

Growing up as teenagers was slightly different. It took some years, but he would begin to warm up to you. He would smile occasionally and accept the way you would call him “my fiance”, but still turn you down for the time being. Witnessing him become stressed caused a pang of guilt in your heart. Still, you’d quickly dissipate the feeling by messing around and seeing him feel better with your company.

“My fiance should be calm the way he usually is. How can his kingdom stay calm if he is not?”

Malleus would usually stare at you after you said things like that, then respond with, “You’re right… Alright. I will do that, but I’m not your fiance.”

Then, like clockwork, you’d laugh at him before responding, “Okay, okay, Prince Malleus. Whatever you say.”

Now, Malleus finally returned from studying at Night Raven College and settled back into his past routine. It took some months, since now there were new things he needed to learn before he could become king. He would follow without a complaint, though.

He was standing in a throne room, checking on documents and plans for the kingdom. You would simply trot in with your hands behind your back as you would often do, admiring him as your shoes would click against the floor.

“My fiance is working so hard already?” You teased, being playful and wanting to catch his attention.

“I’m not your fiance.” Malleus would say with a concentrated tone, his gruff voice echoing through the large room as the sound of documents being flipped echoed.

“Right. King Malleus.” You stopped walking to give him a bow and then approached his side. You moved your hand to cling to his arm, but knowing your behavior, he already had an arm out for you.

“Not king either. I haven’t had my coronation yet. Queen Malecifia is planning that as we speak,” Malleus spoke again, then set down the documents and turned to you, his hair slightly swaying with his movement. His green eyes stared down at you, and then he captured a slight smile on his lips. “What is it that you need from me?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to see you and waste your time. I truly hope I am a bother,” you spoke playfully and took one of the loose documents into your hands to read through it. Malleus quickly took the paper before you could get too far into reading it. Right. Kingdom affairs.

Malleus gives you a look before sighing and pulling a chair out. “If I let you touch my horns, could you let me work?” He spoke, moving to sit down beside where you were standing. You grew excited at the opportunity to play with his horns and instantly went quiet to do so. You stood behind him and carefully adjusted his hair while examining every detail of the feature in front of you.

The atmosphere was quiet yet peaceful. Time felt like it was still, pen scratching paper occasionally sounds through the large room. Your hands gently held his horns, caressing them to remind yourself of its sharp and enticing structure.

Memories of childhood played through your mind as you watched him read these documents, soft breaths coming from him as his focus never broke. You did this exact thing all the time with him, especially during his study hours.

“Why do you like my horns so much?” Malleus spoke, suddenly breaking the silence and surprising you out of your trance. You thought about it momentarily, trying to find the right words to explain it, but you couldn't find a single word for how. Instead, you explained it the best you could.

“Hmm… I don’t know. There’s something about seeing these horns that gives me some reassurance. Relief that I can still be your future beloved.” you answered before fixing his hair again. Messing with him like this felt right. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, being his future partner was something of fate. There were others out there with royal status just like you. Queen Maleficia could’ve replaced or sent you away, but she hadn’t. You were thankful every time you saw his grandmother.

“I see… You’re an odd one,” Malleus spoke softly, a faint breath being heard from him as he felt your hands let go of him. “You let go. Is something the matter?”

Malleus noticed you stayed quiet but didn’t hear you move either. So, he turned around, his breath catching at what he saw. His eyes were met with your side profile, your lips curling into a grin. Your eyes reflected the light like glass, and your hands fell to his shoulders.

“It’s the first snow of the season,” you said, mesmerized by the view. Your quiet voice showed just how enchanted you were. Malleus had an idea of how others felt about the first snow. All he took in from when you explained the moment to him was how special it could be for lovers.

Every time the first snow would fall, he’d watch from the window of his study how you admired the snowflakes as if you’d never seen them before. He watched you do this for years as if it was routine. Hell, it would be weird if he didn’t see you out there.

Malleus took your wrist and made his way out towards the courtyard. He’s the one taking you out there this time? You could only follow and keep your excitement at bay from his behavior.

Arriving outside, Malleus fixed your winter cape, ensuring you wouldn’t feel too cold. He leaned against a wall as you played and tried to catch the snowflakes. Your smile was as bright as the white sky, and he would just stand there, watching you without a word, but more as if he was in thought.

You noticed this and took a moment to gather some snow from the ground, putting it behind your back before moving towards him. “Are you alright? You seem to be lost in thought,” you asked, making him snap out of his trance to look at you.

“I’m fine. I’m simply reminded of my time at the college from seeing all this snow. Why do you a—”

Crunch.

He sighed, keeping his eyes closed before saying one thing. “... Why?’

Malleus was cut off by the impact of a snowball hitting his face. The icy crystals caused his skin to feel colder than it already was. He wiped the snow off his face as he witnessed you begin to back away. Every step back from you was a step forward for him, and you noticed how he had a straight-faced expression. You laughed nervously and grabbed his wrists, trying to hold him back.

“I just wanted to get your attention, Malleus!” You tried to explain, yelping when he would tower over you, but you would only find it all amusing. Malleus would chuckle, grabbing and throwing snow at you, not aiming for your face like you had done to him.

This went on for a few minutes, enjoying the back-and-forth attacks, while the snow piled onto the ground through the mid-winter day. At one point, Malleus would grab you by the waist to keep you from straying too far away from him. The gesture felt nice, but also intimate as he’d only do this to stop you from being clumsy.

You held onto his arms and stepped back slowly, moving towards a stone pillar, while your eyes didn’t leave him. You glanced between his eyes, lips, and the horns you loved seeing. Even after he held you against the cold stone, there wasn’t anything to worry about, but him.

You felt nervous while giving his arms a light squeeze, and he carefully brushed his cold fingertips against your cheek, making you relax with your head leaning into his slight touch. Soon, his hand cupped your cheek to tilt your head, keeping you in place this time.

Finally, your eyes stayed on his lips. His green eyes admired your features to remember them down to the last detail. Your mingled breaths hit each other’s faces from the close proximity, then Malleus leaned close, his lips inching closer to yours.

It was cut short, though. You turned to the sound of someone clearing their throat, but your body would stop what it was doing and let go of Malleus, instantly bowing at the sight of a familiar lady.

Malleus would turn around next. His breathing was slightly uneven from getting caught in the act, but he’d still bow and greet the woman in the courtyard with them.

“Queen Maleficia, what brings you out here during this weather?” Malleus began first, slowly coming up with you to stand correctly.

“It is good to see you, Queen Maleficia.” You followed after, giving Malleus’s grandmother a warm smile.

“Not much, my dear. I’m glad to see you taking a break,” Maleficia returned the greeting and gave a smile as well. She’d soon drop that expression, though. “I need to speak to you about something important.”

Your body would tense up again, and you took that as a cue to leave them alone, so you bowed and took a step forward. “I’ll leave you be, then—”

“You aren’t going anywhere. You are part of this too.” Maleficia spoke earnestly, and she rarely had to speak in such a way to you. The last time you heard those words was when she scolded you and Malleus for disappearing to Lilia’s home.

Those words always made you nervous, especially since they usually meant something was wrong. You could only turn around and smile again.

“Right. I apologize for my assumption, Your Majesty,” you said carefully, instantly seeing Malleus turn to you with a look of curiosity.

Standing before Queen Maleficia, now in her study, you held your hands as Malleus stood near the high bookshelves. His grandmother stared out of her window briefly before taking a breath.

“Malleus.” Queen Maleficia began to speak, turning around to face you and Malleus somberly. “Your coronation is being planned, as you know, but something must be done before you can become king. You know what that is, correct?”

Malleus grew confused, but his eyes would widen slightly once he understood. “Marriage. What of it?”

As soon as Malleus answered, the woman would look towards you and smile lightly. “That’s correct. What do you plan to do about that?”

You stare at Malleus briefly before looking at Maleficia again, then smile softly. “I do want to marry the prince. That has not changed since we were children.”

Maleficia looked away from you, and then she made her way to stand in front of you. “That, my child, is what I can no longer allow. I am sorry.”

Your eyes widened, and you saw Malleus perk up at the corner of your eye. He was shocked as well. “What…?” Is that the only thing you could say?

“What are you talking about?” Malleus sounded off. You couldn’t look at him. Your eyes would stay on the Queen before you, still in disbelief.

“This is the best course of action. Forgive me, my child.”

“Queen M—No. Grandmother, what in the world are you referring to? Answer me!” Malleus began to demand, moving you back and getting ahead of Maleficia.

“Malleus, believe me, this was not easy.”

“I did not ask if it was easy. I did not ask if you’ve thought of this for weeks or months. I asked for an explanation, grandmother,” Malleus spoke sternly, going against Maleficia, which he had not done before. Maleficia was growing angry, but she remained calm regardless.

“I am doing this for you, for the kingdom of Briar Valley; to end a war before it could begin. You will do your duty as the future ruler of this kingdom.”

“You think the kingdom can decide who will be my partner in marriage for the rest of my life? You did that when I was a child! I went along with it and accepted it the first time as it was!” Malleus also grew angry at the way the events were unfolding. He had accepted everything without complaint, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut this time. This isn’t what he wanted.

“Now, Queen Maleficia, you wish to choose someone new? Someone I haven’t known my entire life and someone I cannot trust?”

“You will understand that as the future king. You do not need them as your fiance, and that is final. You will be marrying someone from another kingdom to stop us from going to war.” Maleficia had grown strict, firm even. Anyone else wouldn’t dare argue, not even you. You could only stay quiet from the words you were hearing. Your heart began to feel heavy from guilt as if it were a burden.

“What good will that do!? I do not need someone to help me run my life or the kingdom that will be under my wing some time from now!”

“I did it for you! I do not wish to see you become like your parents! You are my only grandson, and I lost your mother to war and the son, your father, I never had just before that. I raised you! Lilia and I were the ones who kept you alive. So, as your grandmother, I want you to keep yourself safe. Do this for yourself.” Maleficia was like a pleading mother. She needed Malleus to understand.

It was all so confusing to you. Malleus was trying to fight, but was it for you or him? Was it for his freedom? Did he love you? No. That couldn’t be it. You had to do something before he would do something drastic. You had to stop him before he could argue more.

Silence.

Your hand wrapped around his own. Malleus froze from the sudden touch. “It’s okay,” you began softly, putting on a smile before looking up at Malleus.

The touch reminded you of when you snuck into his study as a teenager. You felt stressed once due to your studies and responsibilities becoming a large pile, and Malleus would hold your hand to put you at ease. He helped you with your studies by tutoring and keeping you focused, but concentrating was still difficult with your distant lover just inches away from you during that time.

That short-lived memory was enough to make you agree to this. You loved him, but it was confusing. He was distant, but sometimes not. You loved him, but it was time.

“Hey, Malleus?”

“Hmm?”

“What would it be like if I was only your friend, but never your fiance?”

A young Malleus had to think about that, but only one answer came to his mind.

“I would’ve figured out how to become your fiance again.”

Back to the decision before you, you smiled more before looking at Maleficia and squeezing Malleus’ hand lightly.

“I understand, Queen Maleficia. I apologize for no longer meeting your expectations,” you said respectfully. Malleus stared down at you with wide eyes, his hand starting to squeeze yours while it was still in his grasp.

“Don’t say that. You don’t need to do that—”

You shook your head and looked at him, clenching your free hand around his arm to cling to him. “I… wanted to talk to you, anyway. I’d call you my fiance, but you always turned me down. You said you simply accepted the necessity of my obligation as your lover. Now that we have to say our goodbyes, it worked out fine, did it not? I won’t fuss about this decision, as I have no say in the kingdom’s political matters. So, I will simply wish you happiness and good fortune in your marriage, Prince Malleus.”

“What are you talking about? You don’t know a thing.” Malleus whispered and took both of your hands into his, trying to keep himself calm in the midst of all of the mess. “I only rejected you because I wanted to properly propose to you. Only at the right moment between us and—”

“Hey… you don’t have to say any of that. You don’t need to. This is your kingdom. I am simply someone who had to be your lover.” Those words hurt for you to say, and Malleus looked… scared for once. In the time that you’d ever known him, he was the only person you loved. Malleus couldn’t let go of your hand or look away from you. You would disappear, he felt. Hearing those words come out of your mouth was painful enough as is.

You could only give him a bitter smile and force him to let go. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay,” you whisper and bow to Maleficia, then to Malleus. “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me.”

You smile once more before swiftly leaving before anything else could happen. The longer you walked, the more your legs felt like jelly. You didn’t know where you were going, but you just wanted to leave. You wanted nothing more but to go back and take back your words. To fight for Malleus. Yet, you would never go against the crown.

Malleus simply stood there in disbelief with his eyes glued to the door. Maleficia reached out to her grandson, but as soon as her hand landed on his shoulder, he slapped it off. He looked at his grandmother with a look of nothing. Agony. A heart-wrenching anguish clouded his mind and judgment once you had left the room.

He didn’t want the touch of anyone else but you. How could he lose you so easily? His whole life, he had always gotten what he wanted. Yet, the one time he asked, begged, and pleaded for something in his life, it was stripped away right before his fingertips. Malleus’ body was on auto-pilot from the harsh reality. Then, he moved out of the study, but when he looked up, his body froze at the sight of you running out of the castle.

It was all his fault. He didn’t fight hard enough. Now, he had lost you. How could the Seven betray him so? He never thought that it would be so easy to leave him. To abandon the memories just because someone else requested it.

Once you felt the harsh wind and snow, your eyes began to water. Soon, your heavy breaths turned into heaving sobs. Before you knew it, you found yourself in the forest. How did you even get here? How far did your tired legs get you? What torture could you endure in this state? Then…

Every memory with Malleus started to flash through your head.

Every dance.

Every laugh.

Every touch.

Every look.

Everything.

Your heaving sobs became screams of heartbreak. Agonized cries echoed throughout the quiet and dark forest of Briar Valley. You couldn’t feel the cold anymore. The cold didn’t matter when it felt like you left a piece of yourself in the castle.

Malleus leaned against the wall from the window that he watched you disappear from, closing his eyes when he could hear your cries despite how far you actually were. He couldn’t do anything to fix it this time, not when you were convinced.

Meeting his new fiance was unbearable for Malleus, but he tolerated it. He never remembered any interaction he had with the woman he was supposed to marry now. The wedding was memorable for everyone but him, and you weren’t there. He knew you wouldn’t be there, but he would still smile to himself when he remembered things.

But then it wasn’t too long, maybe a couple of years, until the kingdom celebrated Malleus and his coronation. Everyone with royal status and Malleus' close friends were invited to the after-party celebration. You went alone and stood on the balcony outside, listening to everyone enjoy their festivities. You hadn’t heard about Malleus since you last stepped foot here. It felt like forever ago.

“I didn’t think you would show up. Not after what happened the last time.”

The familiar voice made you perk up and turn around, seeing his tall figure standing at the curtain’s frame. You stood at the stone barricade and smiled slightly at Malleus, bowing to him.

“I didn’t think you would seek my company, King Malleus.”

“That title sounds… weird coming from you,” he admitted, making you both laugh. You look at the horizon to watch the setting sun, going quiet along with him. You had to break the silence.

“So, how are you and your queen?” You asked, causing Malleus to look at you.

“She is fine. She’s expecting, so she’s taking care of herself instead,” Malleus said, being careful with his words, but you wanted to hide behind your old, playful attitude.

“You were quite fast, weren’t you?” You responded with a laugh, but you could feel your heart breaking already.

“It’s been about two years since we last conversed. I don’t think that’s too fast,” Malleus spoke casually, but you would notice how he looked at you somberly, almost as if he didn’t like it as much as you did.

“I see. I wish the Queen and your child a safe and easy journey.” You said quietly, sounding a bit melancholic. You had to force those words out, and Malleus simply nodded to accept your wishes.

His look made you narrow your eyes towards the ground, not wanting to look at him as you knew it would only cause you more heartbreak.

“Malleus…” You called out quietly, sighing and leaning against the stone.

“Don’t say anything,” he whispered, looking out into the horizon just like you did moments ago.

After a few minutes of silence, the sun had finally set, turning the sky dark with the moon’s light shining down on you and Malleus.

“Thank you,” you broke the silence first amidst the faint clamor of festivities behind you, “for the chance to be with you for so long.”

Malleus looked at you, then you looked at him in return. These looks turned into stares. Stares felt like time froze. It was you and him again, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

You engraved the details of his face into your head, and he was doing the same for you. When he broke the silence, the bubble around you two still hadn’t popped.

“You were a wonderful experience,” he said sincerely, giving you a smile.

You smiled back, but before you could respond, others called Malleus over. He tried to stay there, but he was forced away. He was only able to take one more look at you before he disappeared. He faded away like a light swallowed by a deep darkness, which was so strange. It was only a change.

You still kept your smile after he left. Now, you could say what you wanted.

“You were… everything.”

#twst malleus #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #disney #writing #romance #angst #twst angst #angst with a sad ending #hurt no comfort #im hurtin #hurt #no comfort

82 notes · View notes

fhatbhabiee · 3 months

Text

Punto De Perder | Part 2

Frankie Morales x Reader ft Dave York

word count: 1.2k

warnings: DDDNE- some content in this fic might be sensitive to some. pink italics is flashback from readers pov, blue italics is flashback from Frankie's pov, regular italics are thoughts. to avoid any spoilers that's all the warnings i'm going to give. read at your own risk

note: so i wanted to make this a 2 parter but if y'all know me i'm no two hitter quitter- so yes there's gonna be one more part! also if you haven't read part 1 please do so you're not lost! linked down below.

part 1 , part 3

Here's the link!

Your finger hovered over the link your friend sent you, mind pondering if you should even click it. It's just pen pals. There's no harm in it right? You tapped the link and scrolled through the pictures and names of all the inmates until you found his picture. You nearly laughed seeing how beautiful yet intimidating he looked. Dark brown curly hair, dark blue baseball cap, and a few tattoos.

“Hello Francisco Morales…” you whispered before tapping on his profile.

The door opened, letting a small amount of light into the room. You didn't bother looking up, it was pointless.

“Cmon.” the man grunted as he walked over and grabbed your arm, helping you sit up. When he sat you up you looked down and noticed the cuffs around your ankles were gone.

“Where are we going?”

“To clean you up.” he wrapped a blind fold over your eyes and got you on your feet walking you out of the room. You tried using your other senses, to figure out where the hell this man had you, but before you knew it he put you in a car and closed the door. You felt defeated, wondering when this hell was gonna end.

—

You sat in the room, looking around and seeing other people waiting on their loved ones. Suddenly a buzzer went off, making you flinch. You were nervous- you've never done this before, you didn't know what to expect.

He was the last to walk in. His hair messy, dark teal jumpsuit covering his broad body, and as soon as he locked eyes with you- a smile spread across his lips. You felt out of breath, you could hear your heart beating in your ears and it felt like the world around you was moving in slow motion.

“Frankie?”

He chuckled, saying your name in the form of a question and holding his hand out to you.

“Yeah that's me.” you smiled back, reaching over the table and shaking his hand. You never really thought you had small hands but compared to Frankie's they might as well have been Polly Pocket-sized.

As the visit went on you realized something. You'd been talking to this man for months via pen and paper, but sitting right here in front of him- it felt like you've known each other for years.

The next time you visited you were practically bouncing up and down in your seat when the door opened and all the inmates walked into the room. Frankie laughed when he saw you, giving you your nickname. Conejita.

“Here.”

You snapped out of your trance and looked over at the man who was handing you a towel and a change of clothes. You looked around the room, realizing that you had appeared into a bathroom.

How the hell did I get here?

“Take a shower and get dressed. I'll be waiting outside of the bathroom.”

It wasn't until now that you got a good look at the man. His face was clean shaven, hair was short- kept professional. You didn't know if it was your mind playing tricks on you but he kinda looked like Frankie…

“Go on.” he muttered, opening the glass shower door for you.

After a much needed shower, you opened the bathroom door and just as he said, he was there, waiting. He eyed you up and down and nodded. He placed his hand on your lower back and walked you down the hallway into a room with no windows. It looked like the other room he had you in but at least in this one, you had an actual bed.

“You'll be staying here. But you're gonna be working.”

You turned around and faced him. “Working..?”

“I got 2 girls. Need someone to take care of them while I'm at work.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “What makes you think-”

He reached up, gripping your jaw tightly. “Because you're gonna do as I say when I say. Unless you want to go back into the hole.”

The thought of going back to the other room made tears fill your eyes. You were there for a few months… maybe longer. You didn't really know, kinda lost track of time in there. What you did know is that you secretly hoped for death to take you so you didn't have to live through the hell he had put you through.

“Fine..” you whispered. He let out a dark chuckle, his eyes going from brown to black.

“Good girl.”

— • —

He held onto the envelope full of letters and pictures with a tight grip as the guard swiped his key card. No words were exchanged, Frankie just nodded at the guard and walked out. His eyes scanned the parking lot, secretly hoping that you'd be there to pick him up, and that these last few months were just a nightmare. But the only familiar face he saw was Will’s- Benny’s brother.

“Prison did you good.” Will teased, patting Frankie on the back.

Frankie chuckled. “Thanks Will. Benny sends his love”

“I know you're lying.” Will laughed. “Cmon let's get you home.”

Home…

“So I finally moved out of that shitty apartment and I just finished moving in the other day. It's really nice- modern townhouse. It's got two bedrooms and one and a half baths.”

“Two bedrooms huh?” Frankie chuckled.

“Yeah I figured we can use the extra room for storage or if you wanna turn it into one of them man caves.” you smiled.

“I think we can find another use for the extra room conejita…”

You leaned back in your seat, raising your eye brow.

“De verdad? Y que piensas mi amor?” (Oh really? And what are you thinking my love?)

He shrugged, a small smirk pulling at his lips. “How about a baby?”

Your eyes widened, he knew you had been thrown off by the baby comment. But there was something in him that wanted nothing but a family- a life with you.

You smiled and gently grabbed his hand. “I think that sounds like a good idea.”

“Fish.” Will called out, pulling Frankie from his thoughts. He didn't realize that Will had already pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex. Your apartment complex. Seeing as he gave his parole officer this address, he had no choice but to come here. If he was gonna find you he couldn't fuck up his parole.

“Thanks Will…”

“Want me to come in? Maybe I can help?”

Frankie shook his head. “I appreciate it but.. I need you to go to the storage unit. Bring me all the boxes.”

Will nodded, knowing exactly what Frankie was talking about. “I got you.”

Frankie used the spare key you had hidden in the outside light fixture and walked into the apartment, eyes scanning the mess left behind. Broken coffee table, broken glass from a picture frame that used to be on the wall- you put up one hell of a fight. But knowing Dave, he fought harder.

Hours later he stepped back and admired the work he put together with the help of Will. Pictures, paperwork- everything was tacked up on the wall, with a red string connecting it all.

“That all we have?” Will asked. Frankie shook his head, walking over to the dining table and pulled out the polaroid Santi had given him. He walked back to the wall and pinned the polaroid in the middle of the creation.

“I'm gonna find you conejita. Te lo prometo.” (I promise.)

beta'd: @nerdieforpedro 💕

divider: @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist — Frankie Morales Masterlist

#frankie morales x plus size reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #dave york x reader #dddne #new fic #pedro pascal characters #dave york

53 notes · View notes

coconutcordiale · 2 years

Note

“If I could stop loving you, I would.” With any of the pilots

love that's a real long shot

pairing- hangman x pilot!reader (callsign violet)

synopsis- you and jake keep running into each other over the years and jake just can’t seem to let you go

warnings- fwb! happy ending!!! angst! 18+ for slight smuttiness (if you read my normal stuff this is extremely tame comparatively - just want to manage expectations 😉) light enemies to it’s just sex to pining to lovers. naval inaccuracies but it's my pretend world y'all just live in it, sad jake's pov but he's pretty he'll be fine

length- 7.7k

an- companion piece to this 0.6k drabble one time thing but that is not required reading - pretty much all of ott is revisited in this fic

i really, really don’t know how I feel about this one but i've been tinkering and agonizing over it forever and i have to be done so LOL here ya go

credit for the cs violet goes to my soulmate @justfandomwritings thank you for loving angst as much as i do, thank you for being brilliant

title courtesy of it ain't over - the black keys

tagging those that were upset with me for the ending of one time thing - @unstablecaffeinatedmind / @ahopelessromanticwritersworld / @gigisimsonmars / @flashyourgreeneyesatme / @forever-sleepy-sloth / @gingerbreadandpaper / @lovingjakeseresin

also - @mandylove1000 ily

Virginia Beach, 2019

Jake’s glad the packed bar gives him enough cover to stay hidden when he overhears Bradshaw asking his new roommate if she’s interested in him.

He bites back a huff of annoyance, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He talked to her for all of five seconds before mustache boy strutted up to make it very clear his friend was off-limits, was barely even flirting with her. Charming smiles are basically a reflex of his at this point.

“That man has never given a girl an orgasm.”

Jake rolls his eyes but keeps his mouth shut. It’s categorically untrue, but who cares what Bradshaw’s roommate thinks?

Your back is to him too, but he hears you hum in agreement, stifling a laugh. Jake’s hackles suddenly raise, and he briefly wonders why it irritates him so much that you seem to agree with that statement.

Rooster chokes on his beer. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs, fidgeting with her drink. “You were asking if I was into your friend – Hangman, was it? That should be enough of an answer.”

“I don’t really want to think about Seresin’s like in bed.”

“You’re breaking my heart, little bird,” Jake drawls from behind Rooster, figuring he should let you guys know of his presence before you get any further. “And here I thought we had something special.”

You roll your eyes before pushing your stool back. “Well, that’s my cue to leave.”

Jake immediately wonders what the appropriate amount of time is before he can excuse himself too.

“If you wanted to know what I’m like behind closed doors, you could’ve just asked, darlin’,” Jake murmurs from behind you, having found the corner of the bar you disappeared to. “I’d be happy to give you a lesson. I’m very hands-on.”

“Hard pass, Hangman.”

He smiles lazily, turning the charm up to full wattage and leaning on the bar next to you. Not close enough to make you uncomfortable, but enough to make you avert your eyes from his bicep and shift a little in your seat.

“I have a pretty good idea already.”

His smirk goes a little sharp around the edges, a predator locking in his prey. “That so? And what idea might that be?”

You raise an eyebrow. The derision you manage to convey in one unimpressed glance goes straight to his cock.

His eyes flash, fingers clenching around his beer, but he makes sure the infamous smirk stays put. “Think you’ve got me figured out?”

You shrug. “Guys that look like you are rarely anything more than a disappointment in bed.”

He smiles at that, leaning towards playful instead of goading, wondering if you’ve realized what you just admitted. “I think you’re pretty too, sweetheart.”

“You’re intelligent enough to know what you look like. It’d be stupid to pretend otherwise.”

He rolls his beer between his palms, gaze far away and calculating.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He asks, feigned innocence taking over as he brings his eyes back to you.

“Stop thinking about how you’re gonna get me to sleep with you.”

The problem for you is, Jake sees the way you look at him. And it’s nothing like the polite boredom he’s witnessed you grace guys with when they truly don’t have a chance with you.

“Tell me one thing, Violet,” he says, your callsign rolling off his tongue like honey. “Why is it that you’re so nice to everyone else, but so mean to me?”

“Maybe I just don’t like you that much,” you answer, but the barbs in your words are undermined by the way your eyes dart to his chest. He wants to pat himself on the back for going home to change out of his flight suit and into a threadbare grey t-shirt before coming out tonight.

Jake purses his lips, nodding like he’s seriously considering your words, leaning in, and lowering his voice. “Or maybe, you like me a little more than you’d care to admit.”

You shoot him a dirty look for invading your space. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?”

Your thighs press together, almost imperceptibly. If he wasn’t completely attuned to you, he probably would’ve missed it.

Bingo.

“Tell me to fuck off and I will,” Jake rumbles, mouth ghosting over your ear now, too close to be played off as a joke. “Or let me prove you wrong.”

When you lift your eyes to meet his, refusing to shy away from him towering over you in your seat, there’s something dark, something glazed taking them over.

“A one-time thing and I’ll never bring it up again,” Jake promises. “I have new orders for Lemoore anyways; I leave in two days.”

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Take me home before I change my mind, Seresin.”

You’ve been gripping his hair for what seems like hours, thighs still shaking where they’re bracketed around Jake’s head.

“What was it – I’ve never given a girl an orgasm?” He asks smugly. “I must be some kind of prodigy, then.”

“Don’t ruin my afterglow,” you manage, voice hoarse. You’re still far too coherent for his liking, and Jake ducks his head back down, savoring the broken moan that rips from your throat.

He doesn’t stop until the only word you can form is his name.

North Island, 2020

“Look who showed up,” Jake calls from across the Hard Deck, eyes running down your body. He shifts, adjusting himself as subtly as he can. “If it ain’t Violet.”

As generic as your uniform is, all he can picture now is the body he knows lies beneath it.

“Hangman,” you say, not quite able to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Glad to see we have a runner-up for the TOPGUN trophy.”

You look almost, dare he say, fond? “Your ego hasn’t dimmed a bit, has it Hang?”

Jake gives you another obvious once-over, smirking to balance out the warmth he can’t keep out of his voice. “Good to see you, sweetheart.”

Jake’s skin has been buzzing all night, high off his win, drunk off being within inches of you outside the Hard Deck after thirteen weeks of having you just out of arm’s reach.

“Congratulations,” you say, and you don’t even seem that sore about it. Your eyes linger on where his shirt has slowly been coming unbuttoned as the night wears on when you add, “Can’t believe you beat me for first place.”

“An inevitability, darlin’.” Jake leans in, pleased to see your mouth part in his proximity. “Don’t tell anyone, but I might’ve worried you were gonna give me a run for my money for a second there.”

You scoff, but don’t move away, if anything you sway closer. His fingers twitch at his sides, fighting to pull you against him, aching to run his hands up your bare legs and under your flimsy sundress, to see if you’re as wet as the heat in your eyes suggests.

You turn to face the ocean, which just pushes your hips in closer to him and makes Jake’s mouth water. “Obviously. You barely won.”

He winks, knowing you’re keeping tabs on him from your periphery even as you pretend to study the crashing waves in front of you. “That’ll be our secret. Care to congratulate me in private?”

“Thought you said that was a one-time thing, Seresin.” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice and in that moment, Jake knows he’s won for the second time today.

“Shut up and meet me at my truck.”

You smirk, turning on your heel without another word.

Jake doesn’t take his time with you this time. Only immense self restraint and the threat of being slapped with a public indecency charge keeps him from bending you over in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

It doesn’t help that you seem less than willing to wait too, running delicate fingers along the inseam of his jeans, letting your skirt ride higher and higher as you shift in the passenger seat, giggling as he swerves when he catches a glimpse of red lace between your thighs.

By the time you reach his house you’re practically dragging him up the stairs by his belt loops, looking like you’re heading for the bedroom before he pushes you back up against the front door and takes you right there.

The second round you only make it as far as the couch, but he at least manages to get your clothes all the way off.

When you finally end up in his bed you’re both still panting and spent, Jake curling around you even though he’s tacky with sweat.

“I’ll be in Lemoore, now that I’m done with TOPGUN,” you whisper when you’re forming coherent sentences again, so quiet he can hardly hear you over the wind whipping against his bedroom window. “I think it’s short term, but we’ll see.”

Something warm lights up in Jake that he doesn’t want to examine very closely. “Good, everyone there is shit at pool. I’m in need of some actual competition.”

You smile against his skin and he drops a kiss to the top of your head, wondering if you can feel his heart speeding up.

Lemoore, 2021

You’re tracing mindless shapes across Jake’s chest, playing with his chest hair when you rip the rug out from underneath him.

“Got my new orders.”

It’s always amused him how fond you are of his chest hair, so it takes a few seconds for your words to sink in. When he does, his entire body flashes hot, then cold. He hopes you don’t notice the rigidity suddenly running through him. “When do you leave?”

Your face is blank, frustratingly neutral. “Tomorrow.”

Jake takes as deep of a breath as he can manage without being noticeable. Which given your proximity to his chest, is not very. He wants to be mad you didn’t tell him sooner, but the rational part of his brain reminds him he has no right to be.

“Where to?” He asks after a few beats of silence when he’s pretty sure it’ll come out even.

“Fallon.”

The scoff he lets out is genuine, at least. “Gross.”

Your indifference breaks as you giggle against his skin at his derision and he forgets that this is the last time he’ll get to have you like this. For now, at least.

“Are you spending the night?”

Jake doesn’t know why you ask anymore, in the last year he’s said no to sleeping in your bed zero times. He's turned down the opportunity to save you from sleazy guys hitting on you in dive bars even less than that - which is to say he does it without being asked and without even checking if you want his help anymore. Tact really is his middle name.

But like always, you ask and like always, he fights to keep the eagerness out of his voice. He’s fortunate to have decades of practice of keeping his tone level under his belt. “If you want me to.”

“I do,” you whisper, face still tucked into him, but he manages to see your lips purse, looking like you want to say more.

You don’t, though, and Jake hides his smile in your hair rather than commenting.

“Good. Wanna wake you up with my mouth on you,” he murmurs, trailing said mouth against your soft skin. He wills himself to say something else, to tell you he’ll miss you, that he doesn’t want whatever this is to end.

But his tongue stays stuck, arms tightening as his body says what his lips can’t.

North Island, 2022

Jake’s fists are clenched by his side, nails digging into his palms, pinpricks of pain the only thing keeping him from seeing red.

“I’m sorry?” You look confused. Scarlet edges into the corners of his vision. “That I didn’t tell you they sent me back to TOPGUN too? I haven’t seen you in almost a year, Jake.”

“Don’t act like we haven’t talked since then.” Jake doesn’t want to know what his face looks like, his normally careful façade shattered in favor of quiet outrage. “I think you know you were supposed to mention it.”

You had talked. Mostly sporadic, surface-level texts. Memes of an exasperated Chris Pine on his press tour he knew you would get a kick out of. In return, he received a graph detailing Leonardo DiCaprio’s age versus his girlfriends’, noting a clear age limit. You kept your jokes about him being a future Leo to a minimum, at least.

And on one memorable occasion, you called him drunk, and he got to talk to you for an hour after you snarkily admitted to missing him.

Neither of you mentioned it the next day.

You deflate. “Maybe. I don’t know what you want from me. We were always playing by your rules here.”

Jake’s mouth forms a tight line. “Right. My rules.”

Some bullshit he said, before Lemoore, way back in Oceana. Before you’d slept together, before TOPGUN, before he’d gotten to know the real you, before you’d gotten under his skin.

“Let’s just get through this mission, it’ll be easier if we’re not fighting. You do enough goading with Rooster.”

Jake’s so caught up in his own head that he doesn’t even bother to protest about Rooster. He’s grinding his teeth, jaw clenched so the rest of his body can remain still. He knows, on some level, that he’s probably overreacting. But he mentioned this return to TOPGUN to you last week and he can’t help but feel like he’s playing catch up when suddenly you’re here too.

If there’s one thing Hangman doesn’t allow, it’s being left behind.

He doesn’t know why this is on the laundry list of things you refuse to talk about. That’s probably the most frustrating of it all. You’ve always been the puzzle he can’t quite figure out.

“We’ll stay out of each other’s way,” he finds himself saying, mask slipping back into place. “Focus on the mission.”

“Yeah, focus on the mission,” you echo, and Jake wonders if it feels hollow to you too.

Your head is on Jake’s chest again, bare legs tangled with his and the tension is finally bleeding from his body.

“Don’t like fighting with you,” you mumble, muffled by his arms wrapped around you.

“Ended well,” he jokes, magnanimously gesturing to your naked state just barely covered by the thin sheet. “Gave us a vigor we haven’t had in a while.”

He feels your cheeks grow warm where they’re pressed against his skin, clearly thinking back to the adrenaline laden, ‘thank God we’re alive sex’ that lead to the casualty of at least one lamp.

Jake silently thanks Maverick for being such a hot mess that the Navy is unlikely to worry about a few broken items in his bunk.

He smirks at your embarrassment, as if falling into bed together is anything new. It’s the post-orgasm glow, he knows it is, but Jake feels the truth bubbling to the surface. Wouldn’t it be so easy not to let this end?

“Yeah.” You sigh, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t know. All the arguing, then making up so we can fool around. It’s time for us to grow up, don’t you think?”

Jake lets the words die on the tip of his tongue.

“Probably,” he manages.

He kisses you deeply, saying what his lips won’t. He doesn’t mean for it to turn heated; he just can’t bear to let you go yet.

Making love is the only way to describe what comes next. You’ve been at this for a long time, going on three years, and you’ve fucked; hard and fast and fiery. You’ve slept together; gentle and languid and easy.

It’s never felt quite like this.

When he slides into you for what he knows will be the last time, he tries to memorize every line of your face, every gasp from your parted lips, every flutter of your lashes. It’ll be months before he forgets the soft, unguarded shine of your eyes, the way your fingers feel tangled on the nape of his neck.

It feels like goodbye.

North Island, 2023

Your name is out of Jake’s mouth before he can stop himself, longing bowling over his reasoning abilities. Every urge to text you that he stomped out over the last year shows itself as a waste since any sense of self-preservation goes out the window once he lays his eyes on you.

It doesn’t hurt any less to see you without warning in Coronado, but at least this time he holds onto the reigns tightly enough to keep his tone level.

Your voice is happy when you turn towards him, and Jake tries not to outwardly react. “Hangman, hi.”

He wants to rush over, grab onto you, and never let go. Wants to tuck his nose into your hair, smell warm citrus, and have that niggle in the back of his brain soothed.

He waves as you stride towards him instead, boots cemented to the floor. “Back in California already?”

You chuckle, the adorable, lyrical sound raising goosebumps on his arms beneath his flight suit. “Thank God. Fallon’s a shithole.”

Jake’s mouth is open to respond when he clocks someone with curly dark hair behind you, moving forward decisively to your side.

“Babe,” the guy says, and Jake’s spine stiffens, noting the inch or two he has over this mystery guy out of reflex. “Hope you weren’t waiting long.”

There’s a split second where your expression shutters, where Jake thinks the fight or flight thrumming through him might not be necessary.

But as quickly as it shows up it’s gone, and he finds himself hoping the boom of jets taking off covers up the sound of his chest cracking open.

“Brandon, this is Hangman. We were in the same class at TOPGUN.”

Jake’s mouth is dry, tongue glued to the roof of his mouth as he internally winces at the obvious reduction of your history.

“Riot,” Brandon says, sticking his hand out to shake. Jake tries not to crush the bones in his fingers.

Riot and Violet, he thinks sarcastically. How cute.

“You’re with the Eightballers.” Jake glances at his patches, making sure to keep his tone neutral.

Helicopters. He wants to roll his eyes.

Riot nods and you grin, letting it light up your whole face. “His friends can’t believe he ended up with a jet bro. Can you imagine the shit I have to endure, hanging out with these helo knuckleheads?”

You're unmistakably fond, and Jake feels bile rising in his throat. Mercifully, he’s saved from having to answer by a group of pilots trying to get your attention.

“It was good to see you." Your smile softens as you turn to leave, the sun shining around your head, painting you in gold.

He nods. “I’m sure I’ll see you guys around.”

Jake doesn’t sprint to get away from you, he’s too calculated for that, but it’s a near thing. If his strides are just a touch longer than normal, no one has to know.

North Island, 2024

“It’s nice, what you guys have,” Jake's mouth is saying outside the Hard Deck, celebrating your fucking engagement, of all things. The words taste like acid on his tongue.

“Don’t tell me, eternal bachelor, Jake Seresin is thinking about settling down. The women of California will be knocking down your front door.”

Jake wants to laugh, that that’s still what you think of him. But knowing it’ll just come out thick and wet, he keeps the noises to himself. He hasn’t done much in the last year to combat that reputation – Coronado’s smaller than he’d like and you’ve never seen him with the same girl twice because he hasn’t been with the same girl twice.

What’s that they say about old habits?

He takes another sip of his beer instead. “No.”

The teasing is still lighting up your features, barely visible in the moonlight. “Just an introspective mood then, huh? Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Thinking about what it might’ve been like.”

“What?”

“To be with you.”

You blink.

“You never gave me a shot,” Jake continues. He can’t help himself. “You were always convinced I wouldn’t pull the trigger.”

“I don’t think you would have.”

“I think you’re wrong. Doesn’t matter now though, does it?”

Jake tries to smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. He can’t help but reach out for you, squeezing your wrist one last time, studiously avoiding looking at the diamond on your other hand. “I’m happy for you, sweetheart.”

It’s only partially a lie.

Jake wishes he could say the noise wakes him up, but he’s already busy staring at his ceiling fan and its endless circles when he hears the pounding on his front door.

He knows it’ll be you before he finishes rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes.

“What the hell is your problem?”

Jake scrubs his hand over his chin, nose scrunching. “Sweetheart, it’s the middle of the night.”

You glower at him in response.

Whether it’s for the term of endearment or the fact that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut in the face of your blinding diamond ring or some combination of the two, he doesn’t know. What he does know is that you have every right to be mad at him, after spilling secrets he’s held close to his chest for years.

He sighs, wishing he could say the timing was an accident, but he can’t lie to himself quite that well. “Come inside at least, so the neighbors don’t call the cops.”

Apparently, your earlier question was rhetorical because the moment the door is closed, you’re rambling, talking at him, really. After a couple of minutes of watching you spew a bunch of nonsense to skirt around the issue at hand, with no end in sight, Jake sighs again and moves into the kitchen to pour himself a drink.

The wooden chair creaks as he settles his weight into it, sliding a glass over to you wordlessly. He’s not even sure you’ll notice it’s there, but you pick it up and gesticulate wildly with it before taking a sip. He’s somewhat impressed you don’t spill a drop.

You haven’t sat down, can’t seem to stop moving and Jake wishes he had a toothpick.

“We were so chaotic, Jake. We wouldn’t have worked.”

You finally look at him, taking a deep breath. Jake wonders about your lung capacity since you clearly haven’t breathed since barging into his off-base housing.

“I’m not arguing.”

You’re pacing back and forth, frustration bleeding from every pore. “What do you want me to say?”

Despite everything, Jake manages a smirk at that, albeit dimmer than normal. “I haven’t said anything for, like, ten entire minutes.”

The scowl he gets for that little comment is unbearably cute. He tries to ignore the tightening in his chest, stay in reality. “Is that what you stormed over to my house in the middle of the night to tell me, that we shouldn’t be together?”

You visibly deflate. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

There’s an inkling in the back of Jake’s brain that says he does, but he tells it to shut up.

You do not have a history of sticking around when it comes to verbal confrontation, and he’s painstakingly aware that one misstep could have you sprinting out the door.

It was something that worked well with you two, at the beginning, when everything was easy and fun. Blowing off steam with the competition, neither of you had ever been any good at talking so you figured why bother?

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Why now? Don’t you think your timing sucks a little bit?”

“I don’t know.”

It’s a lie.

He knows. As much as he’d like to tell himself he was overwhelmed, seeing the ring on your finger, watching everyone congratulate you and your fiancé, deep down he knows that’s not true.

Like everything he does, it was deliberate. There was something telling him this was his last chance. Is his last chance.

“If I could stop loving you, I would.”

You drop down into the chair across from him, stalling as your brain clearly restarts.

“Loving, present tense?”

There’s a weariness to your voice that he doesn’t like one bit, which makes his heart drop into his stomach as he’s reminded of the risk in telling you this. A calculated risk, but still a risk. One where he’s already bet big, his chips all in, but the river is flipping over, and his gut tells him before he sees it that it’s not the card he needs.

He takes a sip of his Balcones, hoping the burn scorches the rampage building beneath his ribs.

You purse your lips, waiting for a response.

Jake shrugs, but he’s aware it doesn’t have the effect he’s going for when the tension refuses to bleed from his shoulders.

You look like you’ve forgotten how to breathe and will pass out any minute now. Jake debates the merits of passing out to get out of the hell that is this confession.

He avoids your eyes instead. Coward, his brain screams at him, willing him to look up at meet your gaze. “I’ve tried to stop.”

Hangman makes strategic withdrawals. When someone can’t be needled into responding, he pulls back. This is different. He’s never backed down from confrontation out of fear and he hates it, like he’s just discovered his skin doesn’t quite fit him.

Your mouth opens and closes several times without a noise leaving and it frustrates him to no end. When he grits his teeth, he doesn’t know if it’s to hold back the pleading and desperation or frustration at having flayed himself open only to receive silence. “Say something.”

“I’m shipping out,” you tell him as if that’s any sort of answer. “On Monday.”

Jake blinks. That's only three days from now, he wants to say. Opens his mouth and closes it, once, twice. Doesn’t bother with a third time. It won't change anything.

Maybe that is his answer. Let this go, this hope he’s carried onto multiple aircraft carriers, through several states, across endless miles of sky.

This is you telling him to let you go. To start over.

Hawaii, 2025

Some things have changed in 2025. Jake’s ability to control his mouth at the sight of you is not one of them.

“Where’s our helo hero?”

He feels pretty good about that one. As hard as it is to see you, as much as his entire being aches to touch you, he’s going to be normal with you and your fiancé. He owes you that at least.

Unfortunately, for him or for you – he doesn’t know who suffers more at this point – normal includes the patented Hangman barbs he just can’t seem to let go of.

“Seresin,” Phoenix whispers harshly.

Jake immediately thinks he’s missing a puzzle piece, that he’s flying blind, making a drop decision without a laser. Unwilling to admit anything he does what he always does; he rolls his shoulders back and smirks.

You shift from on your feet, clearly uncomfortable. “He’s not coming.”

He can’t resist the jab, but it feels sticky in his mouth. “Aw, come on, the rest of us managed to sync up our leaves, but helos are just too important?”

Phoenix pinches the bridge of her nose, scowling at him, murder in her eyes. “Hangman, shut up.”

He tries to pretend that look doesn’t send chills down his spine, but he’s man enough to admit that Natasha Trace could put the fear of God into just about anyone.

You cough, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. “Uh, we broke up.”

Jake looks around, sure the world is suddenly tilting the wrong way on its axis. Fortunately, the rest of the group seems to be trickling in, so you and Phoenix don’t detect his crisis.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly while Phoenix is distracted by Bradshaw strutting towards them. “I didn’t know.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile, a mask so familiar he feels like he’s staring into a mirror. Jake’s seen this cover before, it’s fight or flight. In the next few seconds, you’ll either be pretending he doesn’t exist, or you’ll be cutting through his armor with a few well-placed, very specific remarks.

You angle away from him, surveying Fanboy and Payback to your left. “All good, Hang.”

Guess it's flight.

Several bars and a few too many shots later, Coyote elbows Jake in the side. “What’s up with you tonight?”

“Just bored of beating y’all in darts,” Jake insists with a cocky grin he knows doesn’t reach his eyes. He just hopes no one notices.

Luckily for him, the only person that always sees straight through his bullshit smirks is you. And you’re at the bar, waiting patiently for the bartender, politely making conversation with some cheesy tourist.

A guy in an atrocious Hawaiian shirt (that he probably bought yesterday at the nearest ABC store, his internal monologue snidely adds) is clearly hitting on you and Jake forgot what it’s like to watch this. Because it’s been years since you were single, he forgot how it feels with sharks circling in the water around you, seeing you make small talk with strangers who have no reason to stop because you’re so goddamn kind and there’s no boyfriend for you to mention that will abruptly end their interest.

There’s a chance you actually want to talk to this chump, but Jake promptly tells that line of thought to kick rocks.

He kind of wants to throw himself into the ocean and drift away from this stupid vacation he should’ve never agreed to. Mrs. Lee will be fine watering his plants if he never comes back, right?

Because once upon a time, in a shitty bar in Lemoore, he’d save you so you wouldn’t have to turn anyone down and he’d tease you, that no one that’s seen you in the air, so quick and decisive and cunning, would ever believe you’d need a knight in shining armor to keep the creeps at bay. You’d tell him to shut up before dragging him out of there by his belt.

He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the memory. As it stands, the ocean is probably his best bet.

“Pool?” You ask when you return with a fresh mojito, sans cheesy Hawaiian shirt, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“Miss the Hard Deck already, Vi?” Fanboy teases.

Even though the ice between you hasn’t completely thawed yet, Jake ignores him in favor of getting up, making his way toward the table in silent agreement. He figures it’ll give him something to do besides staring at the side of your head.

If his mid-game trash talk is a little pointed, a little too on the nose; well, that’ll stay between the two of you.

Jake tenses as he hears the back door of the bar swing open behind him, footsteps heavy and likely belonging to a number of people he doesn’t want to explain his sour mood to right now.

“Surprised you and Vi aren’t still going at it at the pool table, thought it was about to be a rematch of TOPGUN in there,” Rooster says.

“Couldn’t beat me then, can’t beat me now." He chuckles out of reflex more than anything, but it feels hollow and forced. "Sometimes I just like to rile her up, get her out of that shell she always wears on the ground.”

Rooster hums in agreement. “Better than the last time I saw you two together. You barely looked at each other then.”

During the Maverick mission, Jake hears lingering in the silence in the humid Hawaii air.

“Sure,” the blond says, willing to agree to anything that stops this train in its tracks.

“There a story there?” Rooster asks slowly, careful as ever.

“No,” he answers, but it’s rote, automatic. Even Bradshaw isn’t dense enough to miss the friction between you two, Jake knows that.

Rooster raises an eyebrow and Jake pointedly ignores him in favor of pulling a toothpick out of his pocket.

“How’s your girl, Bradshaw? Are you guys ever going to stop living in sin and tie the knot?”

He doesn’t comment on the abrupt change of subject, shrugging. “We’re happy. She’s pretty focused on her career right now. But when she’s ready.”

“I guess when you start fucking your roommate it’s nothing but sin from there on out, anyways, huh?”

The other man grins. “Jealous?’

Jake can’t help the way the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, an admission in its own right. Just not for what Rooster's implying. “Maybe.”

“Planning on coming after my girlfriend? Gotta tell you, Hangman, back in Virginia she was never very impressed by you.”

“She’s not my type. Any girl that’s into that atrocious caterpillar above your lip clearly has impaired vision.”

The other man brushes aside the dig easily. “That’s right. You only had eyes for Vi back then.”

Jake fights a full-body cringe, blaming the fact that he just walked straight into Rooster’s trap on the shots he took with Javy earlier. “What do you know? You hated me in Oceana.”

“Who says I don’t hate you now?”

“Touché.”

Rooster sighs, long-suffering like he can’t believe he’s the one that got saddled with the job of making sure Jake isn’t gonna lose it and ruin their vacation. “Seresin, you’re not the only one who notices things.”

Jake doesn’t need to dignify that with an answer. He’ll turn in his wings the day Rooster is more observant than him.

“Seems like forever ago, now, but I always thought she had a thing for you too.”

“I don’t know where you got that from, she was always arguing with me.”

Rooster waves it off. “Pulling your pigtails. Sound familiar?” He shoots him a knowing look that Jake pretends he doesn’t see, which unfortunately just gives mustache boy the idea he should continue.

“Yeah, sure,” Jake agrees, not without an air of sarcasm. Rooster may be right but it’s not like he’s going to genuinely admit that.

“D’you ever play Sudoku? My mom always loved it.”

Jake tries not to get whiplash, schooling his face into something neutral. He doesn’t know the ins and outs of Bradshaw’s childhood, but enough to know the other man’s putting a lot of faith in him by bringing his mom up at all.

“Did she?” he echoes, for lack of anything better to say.

Rooster nods, eyes far away, unfocused. “The thing about Sudoku is, you have to think about where you’re placing the numbers, so they don’t interfere with numbers in other boxes and lines.”

Jake barely bites back the word obviously, accompanied by a roll of his eyes.

“When we started dating, things weren’t always easy. We went from zero to sixty at the beginning, already living together.”

“But your mom loved sudoku,” Jake says, albeit dryly. “So, you knew to look at the puzzle as a whole.”

Rooster knocks their shoulders together in agreement, now you’re getting it.

“We had to slow down, take a look at what we were doing, where we were going, talk so that we didn’t fuck it up before it could even start.”

The blonde sighs. Leave it to Rooster to use some convoluted metaphor for Jake to parse out when his brain already feels like it’s been muddled alongside the mint in your mojitos.

“M’not the guy you should go to for relationship advice, normally.”

Jake snorts. “No shit.”

Rooster shoots him a bit of side-eye for that but nonetheless barrels on. “But I’ve known you and Vi a long time. For the better part of a decade.”

And isn’t that a thought, that Bradshaw of all people would be the one to know you and Jake better than anyone else?

“Is this your long-winded way of saying Vi and I need to slow down?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not. Just gotta figure out the key. Whatever that looks like for you guys.”

Jake turns it over in his head a few times, pushing down his every instinct to blow this off, to make a joke that breaks the intensity that’s thicker than the Hawaii humidity.

“Patience,” he mutters, because of course it would be that for Bradshaw. “Trusting you’ll get there when you get there, not letting the pressure get to you guys.”

“Hm?”

“That’s your key.”

“Yeah,” Rooster nods, before taking a pull of his drink. “But maybe our puzzles are different.”

Jake scrunches his nose, so unused to metaphors and convoluted thinking. His head is still a jumbled mess, unpacking everything he’s learned in the last twelve hours.

“Sometimes you have to drop down and take the shot. Don’t pretend like that’s not in your wheelhouse, Seresin. You’ve always held back with her. Too scared she’s the only one that can keep up with you, maybe. That she's the only one you won’t shake off your tail.”

Rooster is frighteningly insightful tonight. Jake resolves to switch to whatever he’s drinking the moment he goes back inside.

“What would you have me do?” He asks, maybe a little more abrupt than Rooster deserves.

“Basic, normal, human communication would be a start.”

Jake flips him off.

“Not letting her go again, would be the next.”

It only takes Jake one Dark ‘n’ Stormy (of course, Rooster's drinking something that Jake feels like an idiot ordering) to build up the courage to follow you outside.

“You called it off.”

It’s not what he planned to say when he saw you sneaking out the back door of the bar. He was going to let you bring it up, maybe goad you into telling him what happened.

But he’s starting to realize his puzzle is less of a Sudoku and more of a jigsaw. He doesn’t know all the steps to complete the goal and won’t know until he’s in the middle of it. Each step comes up when it needs to, and he’ll have to figure it out then.

At least, he thinks that’s the point Bradshaw was trying to make. You two have to talk about something real, at some point, but patience hasn’t gotten him anywhere with you in the last six years.

You nod, staring into the distance, eyes focused on the water ahead.

“When?”

“Right before I deployed.”

Jake balks. He’s not sure what he expected your answer to be, but it wasn’t that. “And you didn’t think that was something you should tell me?”

You look down at your hands. Jake suddenly feels like an idiot, for not thinking anything of your bare ring finger. He should’ve known. He just assumed you’d become one of the many pilots that’s allergic to wedding rings.

“I wasn’t—I didn’t know what to say.”

There’s something working its way into the edges of his earshot, a timer dinging, the buzz of the right answer chiming. He laughs but there’s no humor in it. It’s only because otherwise, he’ll scream, as the puzzle pieces finally fit together.

“That was almost a year ago,” he mutters because he’s a glutton for punishment.

You continue staring at the water, still refusing to meet his gaze.

And he remembers, you’ve never been good at saying the hard things. As fierce as you are in the air, you temper your words on the ground, too wary to cut someone to the bone.

Shrinking violet, he thinks, wondering who was even well-read enough in your first squadron to know that reference.

He takes your silence for the answer that it is, nodding curtly and squeezing your wrist before turning to go back inside, a mirror of the last time his chest felt like candy glass, just waiting for the director to start the next take so it could have its turn to be shattered.

You finally turn to him, eyes glassy with tears. “Jake, I…”

He can’t wait for you to finish, doesn’t want to hear an excuse. Patience has never been his strong suit.

Jake shakes his head, biting his cheek to keep the tears at bay. You’ve never seen him cry and he’ll die before he lets that change on the back patio of this kitschy tiki bar. “Message received, Vi.”

Fucking Rooster. This is why he put this off for so long. It’s excruciating.

“No, Jake—that’s not what I—”

“Loud and clear, Violet.”

“I didn’t know if you’d feel the same way once I was single,” you say suddenly, and it stops him in his tracks. “You seem to forget you never said anything until I was supposed to marry someone else.”

“Then why?”

“Why what?”

Jake wants to pull his hair out. “Why did you call off the fucking wedding? Because it sure as shit wasn’t for me or you would’ve mentioned it sometime in the last ten months.”

“I was with him for two years, Jake. That doesn’t just go away. I didn’t want to tell you before I knew where my own head was at.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Silence.

He turns to leave again, knowing the panic is showing itself in his shaky hands and uneven voice. Desperately, he wishes he had a toothpick or a beer label, something to tear at so his expression could remain carefully blank, tone collected.

When you finally speak again, your voice is thick and heavy with emotion, muffled by unshed tears. “Because.”

Jake raises an eyebrow, not bothering to figure out what expression is playing itself out on his face.

You clear your throat. You play with the hem of your dress. You look anywhere except his eyes.

Fight or flight, he says silently. What’s it gonna be, Vi?

He hopes to God it’s fight.

“Because you don’t marry someone when you’re in love with someone else.”

It takes a few seconds for the meaning of your words to register. He feels like he’s underwater, slow and sluggish, when he finally asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Takes more than love to make a relationship work, Jake.”

It’s funny, how you choose the words Jake has repeated to himself in his weaker moments. When he wondered if loving you was enough, if it could overcome that you two are so much more similar than anyone would guess. You might have a reputation for mincing your words, but he’s the only one that takes that for what it is – a mask. He’s spent enough time underneath one to recognize it when he sees it. It’s your way of keeping people at bay, staying in control, not letting anyone climb those walls you’ve spent so long carefully building.

Someone would have to take their hands off the controls, even for a second. Neither of you knows what it’s like to rely on someone else. To not take the lead. To let someone else have your back.

“You have to be able to give me a chance sometime,” he counters, as gently as he can manage. “Let go of the reigns enough to let me try. Trust me to take the shot.”

“I’ve never been very good at that, especially with you,” you say, nodding and Jake’s chest is getting lighter by the second, that you've thought about this. “But I also knew it was going to take me time, to work through ending things with him. I couldn’t ask you to wait.”

“I did anyways.”

You raise your eyes to him at that. “You did?”

“I told you if I could stop loving you, I would have already.”

You exhale shakily, fingers twitching like you want to touch him, but just falling short in the air between you. “I didn’t – By now I thought you would’ve – fuck, Jake. I didn’t think you meant that. Thought you just needed time to get over me.”

He wants to laugh, feels it twitching at the corners of his mouth. “In less than a year? Have you met you?”

You grin at that, rich and bright and open like he hasn’t seen in far too long, and there’s something loosening in your defensive posture. “A lot of people would say ten months is a long time.”

Jake feels fuzzy, from his chest to his fingers as he reaches to pull you into him. You fold back against him, and he ducks his face into your hair, nudging around to get his lips on your jaw, letting his words get muffled by your skin. “Ten months is a blip on the radar.”

He feels you melt into him and finds the courage to lay the rest of it on the line.

“Doesn’t matter anyways because it hasn’t been ten months. It’s been six years. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”

“Sorry, I’m so slow. Hard to keep up with the infamous Hangman. I hear he flies like his ass depends on it.” The teasing is back in your tone, and it spreads warmth all over him.

You reach up to where his forearm rests on your collarbones, where he can’t bear to loosen his hold on you, his fingers twisting in the strap of your tank top.

The entire line of your back is touching him, his nose tucked into the crook of your neck smelling citrus and vanilla and home, but it’s still not enough, as far as Jake is concerned. Too many years spent apart, too many moments with you just out of reach have him itching for more.

“It’s okay,” he breathes against your neck. “As long as we get here in the end.”

“I trust you,” you whisper. “You know that right?”

He nods, fighting a shiver as your hand drifts across from his elbow to his hand. You run your thumb across his pulse point, fingers encircling his wrist. You squeeze, and he feels your promise.

This time he gets to start over with you.

"because you don't marry someone when you're in love with someone else" was stolen from michael westen in burn notice, episode 2.15 sins of omission (fantastic show!) although i changed the wording a little bit

thanks for reading!

819 notes · View notes