#‘But isn’t his tattoo on his right arm.’ ‘That’s not the correct spot-‘ Consider this: Leave me alone and let me do what I want.

[iero]

Joined the Cool Kids Club (Permanent love and dedication to Edd*e Muns*n) today!

[erodasfishtacos]

Has anxious Ezra ever been told to go to his room or had to sit on the steps?

The Step

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Ezra had woken up the morning with a chip on his little four-year-old shoulder which rarely even happens - much more common with Cash or Easton.

They had to get up much earlier than usual because they were going to travel with Harry to a game across the coast via private jet.

He had popped in a few minutes earlier to rouse the grumbling little gremlin.

When Harry had walked into his room that morning for a second time, voice low and soothing, he murmurs, “G’mornin’, sweetheart. Did you sleep good?”

Their youngest son who was still laying in his bed, but freshly woken - pinches his brows and lisps out a harsh, “Want mama. Want t’sleep.”

Harry rarely ever has to scold or correct Ezra, Jesus, Briar was two and he had to tell her to cut it out and drop the attitude more than him.

“Mama is downstairs making breakfast, c’mon. We can go see her,” Harry keeps his tone soft, trailing over to sit on the side of his son’s bed.

“No! Mama now! I want mama now!” Ezra demands in a frustrated voice that Harry doesn’t hear usually unless he’s fighting with his siblings.

“Whoa, Ez,” Harry huffs out in surprise, “Why are you yellin’ at y’daddy? I told you mama is right downstairs, she’s cooking for you and your siblings. I know it’s early but we have to get going soon.”

Ezra whines loudly, scrambling out of his bed and starting to scamper down the upstairs hallway towards where the stairs.

Harry follows after him, a bit taken aback but has to raise his voice when he sees Ezra about to take the stairs too fast.

“Ezra Duke. Do not run on those stairs,” He uses his dad tone, worried that he could trip and fall - all the kids knew that rule.

His youngest pauses at his father’s loud timbre, eyes wide and surprised - not used to be on the receiving end of his father’s correction.

He goes slower, holding onto the railing but he says to his father, “Too loud, daddy. Be quiet.”

Harry hums thoughtfully, striding down the stairs and cutting Ezra off - so he can get to the landing first and look up at him.

“Wha’ has gotten into you, hm? Just ‘cause you’re sleepy doesn’t mean you can be unkind,” He asks his son, trying to taper down his smile at the absolute pout that crosses his small face.

Ezra doesn’t say anything, shaking his head defiantly.

“You do not tell daddy to be quiet when he’s trying to keep you safe,” Harry reminds him with a firm tone - he can hear all his other kids having fun in the kitchen, “Okay, Ezra?”

“No,” He rebukes, ducking under his father’s tattooed arm and scuttling into the kitchen to wrap himself around his mother’s leg.

“Hi, my little love,” YN greets, flipping a pancake and reaching down to smooth his out of control curls with her palm.

“Hold me,” He whimpers, tugging on her leggings impatiently.

“Not right now, I’m cooking, baby,” She tells him gently, “We can have a cuddle after breakfast.”

All the other kids are sat at the breakfast nook already - Briar in her high chair, drinking out of her sippy cup and the other two boys looking through a dinosaur book.

“Now mama,” Ezra screeches, he pulls back his tiny hand and smacks his mother on her thigh, too little to hurt but he knew instantly it was wrong.

Harry isn’t happy with him, striding over to their youngest son with a displeased look on his face - ignoring Cash whine, “Ez hit mama! That’s bad!”

“Ezra Duke. I know you didn’t just hit your mama,” YN stares down at him with her own mixture of surprise and disapproval at his actions.

“Sor-mama, sorr-“ He starts to sniffle and then he starts to cry - he rubs his hand against the spot he smacked as an apology.

Easton and Cash weren’t even looking at them, they were looking at their dad with wide eyes - waiting for his reaction.

All the children, even Briar, knew hurting someone was not right and would get them in trouble either on the step or in their room.

“I think he did just hit his mother,” Harry cuts in, low and authoritative, “And we never hit anyone. Especially not the person who takes care of you and loves you s’much.”

“Dad-“ Ezra tries to protest, wrapping himself back around his mother’s legs, digging his face into her warm skin.

As much as Harry hates to put Ezra on the step, for the first time, he has to treat all of his children equally when they’re in trouble.

“Step, now.”

“Daddy, plea-“

“On the step, now please,” Harry interrupts, aware of all his other children’s gaze on him,“You are at ten minutes right now, I will add more time if you don’t listen.”

Normally step time is their age but for things like hitting - they automatically get ten.

Ezra drags his small feet through the kitchen with his head down, not looking at anyone, and Harry follows after him as he plops his bum on the bottom stair.

“I’m going to set my timer for ten minutes,” He tells his son, tapping at his phone before putting it back in his hoodie pocket.

“No daddy! No! No!”

And then Harry stands patiently by his son, listens and watches as he tantrums for only a mere minute before calming back down and rubbing his eyes.

By the time the alarm goes off, Ezra’s eyes are drowsy and he let’s out a big yawn - doesn’t even go to get off the steps.

Harry sits next to him, pulling him into the cradle of his strong arms, “Why did y’go on the step?”

Ezra makes a low hurt sound before lisping out, “I smacked mama.”

“And why don’t we hit people?” His father prompts.

“Because it makes them sad and it hurts them,” Ezra says forlornly, nuzzling into his father’s chest.

“Right,” Harry agrees quietly, tugging him as close as possible, “We love you s’much, Ezzie. Everyone makes mistakes but we just has to be kind. Your still our perfect boy.”

Ezra sniffles and nods against him, allowing his body to relax and Harry can’t help but hold him for a long moment.

And when he goes to encourage his son to go get breakfast, he looks down to see his son asleep peacefully in his arms.

[iamjungkooked]

Until My Last Breath

↳Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

↳Genre: Smut (mild), Romance, Angst

↳Word count: 13.4k

↳Warnings: swearing, mild oral sex (f receiving), way too much making out, grinding (sort of?), mention of death. More than all of this Jeongguk is just fucking delicious in this fic (that’s the biggest warning i can give you)

↳Rating: 18+ (Don’t read if you are underage)

↳AU: werewolf! Jungkook + human OC

↳Summary: Sporting an undercut and tattoos Jeon Jungkook waltzes back in your life after 5 years of being away. You think you know him– and just when you think you have gotten close, he reveals a secret (or two). Following this, is a series of trials and tribulations that concludes in a way you never expect.

(Alternatively: the one where Jungkook creates a mess out of you)

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Your hands hurt from holding the grocery bags. Mrs. Jeon did offer her help but you refused because she has so much to do. If anything Jimin should have accompanied you considering that he’s always going on about how he’d marry you if he could.

Alas, he wasn’t there either because being the beta of the pack meant he had to run morning training and education with the younger children since Jungkook wasn’t there. Generally this was something the alpha of the pack would do-- but Mr. Jeon was busy with the politics of the werewolf and human world. Had Jungkook been here he would have been running the session seeing as he is next in line to be alpha of the pack. But he was miles away on the other side of the country. He has been for five years and truth be told you can’t even remember what his face looks like anymore.

With thoughts such as that the only accompaniment, you march along with as much energy you can muster at each step. The house comes into view. Once again with no other company but your own to entertain yourself you take a drip down memory lane. You remember the awe you first felt when Mr. Jeon brought you to the house. Your father had just passed away while on a drug raid. Mr. Jeon being his best friend brought you with him.

In the early days, the entire family tried to hide their secret. But then on a full moon, you curiously followed Jungkook out and watched as he transformed from man into a beast. Initially, you wanted to scream with horror, but the air got stuck in your throat when he began approaching you. Rooted to the spot and with no escape, Jungkook-- rather his wolf form nuzzled his nose against your neck and whimpered. The fear was gone just like that. All night long, you accompanied him, roaming the forest behind the house getting into all sorts of trouble. When the effect of the full moon began to fade during the early hours of the morning you remember sneaking back into the house and rummaging through his room to get him clothes for when he transformed back.

You kick the giant black gate open and walk down the cemented pathway flanked on either side by lawns outlined with a variety of flowers. To your left was the gazebo that Mr. Jeon built when you were sixteen as a birthday present because that happened to be your obsession at the time.

As the foyer nears, you see a huge commotion outside. It seemed everyone and their mother was present. With urgency in your steps only worsened by curiosity, you reach in no time. You stand on your tiptoes to get a view of what was happening, however, the five grocery bags in your hands weigh you down.

Momentarily the crowd parts. You see the outline of a face that isn’t recognizable-- the hoodie covering half the profile.

“What is going on?” you gather the courage to speak loudly against the chatter of the crowd.

It is loud enough to get the talking to stop and everyone turns to you, including the mysterious stranger.

He pulls his hoodie down.

The grocery bags drop from your hands, just as your mouth hangs open.

“Jungkook is back!” one of the kids tugs at your arm in excitement.

Well shit. You never could have recognized him even if someone planted his younger version of right next to him. He is probably just shy of 6 feet tall. Although engulfed in a black crewneck, you could tell he was built. His dark wash ripped blue jeans contour his thighs to perfection and just when you think he couldn’t have changed further you notice his hair. He had gone off and gotten himself an undercut. His hair was on the longer side, and it was parted to the left of his head while the undercut was visible on the right. He had even gone so far as to get tattoos that adorned his fingers, and his forearm-- a music note. Well now you were fucked because how could you ever resist a man with that kind of hairstyle and tattoos.

Correction, how could you resist a fucking werewolf who wears an undercut and has tattoos?

“Y/n?” he speaks and you swear you could have heard angels speaking to you.

You keep mum. In fact, you can’t even hear him. You’re too busy undressing him with your eyes. Your heart pounds, your knees feel weak because this man is simply too gorgeous to exist. How the hell is everyone else standing on their two feet while you feel like you’re going to fall any moment?

You say something. You have no idea what exactly because your ears are ringing, but you know something comes out of your mouth which causes everyone around you to giggle. You might as well just turn around and go hide somewhere because you’ve probably made a fool of yourself.

“Huh” comes his deep voice, but it’s faint. His remark only makes you wonder what you spat out.

“It’s hot” you fan yourself with your hand. Your mouth is parched, dry like the desert. “You--  Wow. You look--nice to--- welcome. I mean, g-good— to” you look at him, and pause to collect your thoughts. “Good to have you back. I think...” you are completely breathless and dazed by the end of that word salad. Your forehead scrunches in a frown as you try to shake away the magic spell his presence has cast on you. You don’t even bother to wait for a response as you run back down the pathway you came. You follow it out of the gate and turn the corner. A few paces up the hill you come upon the gated entrance to the forest.

You hear someone calling you out, but you’re a damn mess. You aren’t willing to let anyone see you like that. You run as far into the forest as your legs will carry you-- far, far, away from him.

You can finally understand the phrase “avoid like the plague” because that’s what you have been doing to Jungkook. For the past four days since he has been back, you have done anything and everything you can to avoid him. If you see him in the house, you immediately make a u-turn for your room. If you see him outside, you hide behind anything you can find-- a pillar, a bush, a tree, a car, another fucking human being.

Of course it doesn’t help that everyone tries to keep pushing you to him. Well, mostly his parents. But also random people like the ladies in Mrs. Jeon’s book club who on Saturday made a spectacle out of you.

“Come on, pose for a photo” they had said when they saw you and Jungkook out and about the house. You weren’t even looking at one another when they swarmed you and him, taking you by the arm and making you stand next to one another. They didn’t even ask nicely-- no. They demanded that you and Jungkook take a photo because apparently you two look amazing together. Despite your protests, and vigorous head shaking-- they basically pushed you to him, and thankfully he managed to steady you on your feet by catching your waist.

His arm around your waist as he holds you flush against him and your hand on his forearm while you two looked at one another-- that’s the picture they took. You may as well have just gotten a whole fucking photoshoot done while you were at it.

“Y/n’s probably always had a crush on him” one of the ladies, Mrs. Ri had mentioned while all the others including Mrs Jeon crowded around to look at the picture on the camera.

A tomato couldn’t be more red than you and that's saying something. All Jungkook did in response was shrug at you like he was enjoying it. Normally a man might object to being treated this way. But he didn’t utter a single word. Only he looked quite amused by the whole situation and your reaction as he smiled and chuckled to himself.

On the other hand, his parents always mentioned in his absence that they would love if you and him got together. You never paid any mind to those conversations in particular because it was Jungkook— atleast how you remembered him before he became a fucking Adonis. Not that it’s the only thing that matters. But you just never felt this way before, and now you do.

You tiptoe through the house while everyone is busy at this time of day. Mrs.Jeon is probably with all the other ladies for their book club, Mr.Jeon no doubt is in his study and Jimin is probably with Jungkook, training.

It sucks to be the only human sometimes because they can always hear you, and know what you’re thinking. But you can’t do the same. It makes you feel vulnerable. But everyone is good at reminding you about how lucky you are to be human.

You traipse through the living room, peeking behind from walls here and there to make sure Jungkook isn’t around because if you see him you’re sure you’ll lose your shit. Again.

There is a certain chunk of the wooden floor that creaks under pressure so you take care to avoid it. Because in case Jungkook is anywhere inside the house he’ll hear it.

Creak

“Fuck” you mutter, shutting your eyes tight and carefully lifting your toes from the damned spot which makes another sound.

You hear footsteps on the stairs behind you. Too scared to move, you straighten up.

“I was wondering when I’ll see you again” comes Jungkook’s voice.

“Heeeyyy” you turn around, plastering a smile on your face and it screams fake.

“Four days huh. Good job” Jungkook looks impressed as he comes down to ahalt at the last step . “How did you manage to avoid me for four whole days? I am curious”

“You knew”

“Of course I knew” he’s mouth moves as he chews gum, one brow raised at you, looking absolutely devilish (in the best way possible). “Too bad the streak has come to end” he places his hands in pockets lining his black sweats.

Well fuck. No point in denying it anymore then.

“If it wasn’t for this stupid floor I could have gone the whole week. Probably” you decide to give in instead of pretending you have no idea what he’s talking about.

He steps towards you, one corner of his mouth curved up in a sly smirk. “That would never happen. You’d have made a mistake at some point before that”

“Maybe” you shrug. You’re so surprised that you’re able to find your words this time. “Welcome back by the way” you offer a genuine smile, trying to make up for that botched attempt when he first arrived.

“Thanks. It’s good to be back” he sighs contentedly. “I missed this place and the people.” he looks around and then his gaze comes to rest on you. “Well, one person in particular” he looks you straight in the eyes.

“Your mom” you reply. He loves his mother.

“Yes. But also someone else”

“Who?” curiosity gets the best of you.

“Just someone” he shrugs.

You’re about to respond when Jimin comes in. “What are you two doing here?” he looks at Jungkook as he stops next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

Wordlessly, Jungkook’s eyes change color from his hazel brown to icy blue. He steps towards you and Jimin, and then pulls Jimin’s hand away from your shoulder. He looks at the boy, jaw grinding as he chews gum. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” his voice is calm, but his eyes are absolutely terrifying since they harbour a cold, mean look. They change back to brown in an instant once Jimin nods. You notice how tense Jimin looks but he walks with Jungkook anyway.  

They’re probably only gone for thirty seconds. But when they come back their body language is completely relaxed. They look like two pals reunited after years.

“Everything okay?” you ask Jimin.

“Yeah. All good” he nods. “I was just congratulating him”

“What for?” you look between the two of them, feeling awfully suspicious.

Jimin is about to open his mouth when he catches Jungkook’s gaze. Jungkook shakes his head and you notice, at which point you turn to him. “Fine. I don’t want to know” you huff. You start towards the back door which leads to the backyard where Mrs. Jeon is with her friends.

Just a couple steps in, you’re tugged back. You turn around to find Jungkook holding onto your wrist. There is something about the way he looks at you. You’ve seen this look before in movies—it’s the way the hero looks at the heroine when he thinks she isn’t looking. It’s soft, but it’s wanting-- a complete contrast from the way he glared the life out of Jimin just minutes ago. He looks like he’s got something to say, but he’s holding back.

“What is it?” your voice is quiet, like you’re too scared to speak out. As if your voice will give away the crazy whirlwind of emotions in your chest.

“Nothing” he blinks and lets go of your wrist. “See ya around” he turns on his heels and walks the other way as Jimin follows him.

The woods at this time of the night are majestic. Moonlight bathes the tops of trees in a silver glow. The moonlight filters through gaps in tree branches, and covers the ground in a white sheen. It looks nothing short of magical.There is a slight chill in the wind, but it’s nothing you aren’t used to. The fallen leaves crunch under your feet. Sounds of crickets chirping, owls hooting fills the air.

You walk through the pathway bordered on each side by large trees the branches of which meet in the middle above you, forming an archway. You feel safe in the womb of nature like you’re protected and nothing could touch you. Without fear, it’s easier for you to take in everything. The air you breathe feels fresh, and crisp. If you could, you would make time stop so you could stay in the woods at night and never have to leave.

As each step carries you further into the woods, you feel more and more at peace. The trees become more lush the further you go. The animals are more noticeable deep into the forest. You see squirrels running around the trees, there are bird nests high up in the branches. You can hear mockingjays in these parts of the forest too.

You stop by the clearing in the woods. This side of the woods is your favorite. You sit against the trunk of one of the trees, resting your head. You look at nothing in particular in the sky. It’s clear above you, with a full moon shining. Your mind immediately goes back to Jungkook as you gaze upon it. You feel tortured every time your thoughts turn to him. You don’t know if it’s normal for you to want to cry, but you’re already shedding tears. Your quiet sobs accompany the sounds of nature. The weight seems to be lifting off your shoulders, and it feels easier to breathe. But then you think of him and that someone he mentioned. It causes you to sob even harder. You hiccup, using the back of your hands to wipe away the tears.

“What’s wrong?”

You can’t forget that voice. You look up at Jungkook as he stands with his hands in his jean pockets.

You shake your head. “Nothing. I just-- I miss--” you begin to cry again. “I-I miss my dad” another sob escapes your throat.

“Can I give you a hug?” he asks in a soft voice, which makes you want to cry even harder. “Please”

You nod.

He comes over, sits down next to you and gathers you in his arms. He pulls you into himself, wrapping your arm around his side, as he holds you. You place your cheek against his chest as you hold him close. It may have started because of him, but it continues because you do miss your dad. The moment you said “dad” was when you knew you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to.

“I am sorry y/n” he strokes the back of your head. “I really am” he sniffles.

You pull back to find tears staining his cheeks. “Why are you crying?” you look up at him.

His gaze is locked onto yours. “Because, I can feel what you feel”

“Sorry. I forgot you’re a werewolf” you shift back on your spot, forcing his arm to fall from your shoulder.

He opens his mouth to say something but then closes it. He looks at you a few seconds longer. “Yeah. That’s it” he says, blinking and a lone tear escapes. Your fingers twitch at your side, needing to wipe it away. But it might be too weird so you let your fingers curl into a fist.

“Thank you for doing this” your mouth curves in a soft smile. “How did you find me here?”

“I’ve seen you in the woods for the past four nights. I didn’t know who it was at first because I only saw a flash of your hair, or your shoes. But today I followed you and it’s good I did because pretty girls like you shouldn’t be crying alone”

You snort. “Right. Pretty girls like me”

He raises a brow. “You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you. I just don’t believe your words”

“Then tell me what I can do to make you believe me” he states. You’re sure he isn’t serious but one look at him tells you he means every single word.

“Jungkook, it’s alright. You don’t have to do anything” you shake your head. But then it strikes you. “Although there is something…”

“Anything” the corners of his mouth upturned in a soft smile-- one that made your heart skip a beat (or ten maybe).

“I want to see your wolf form” you look at him tentatively, wondering if he’ll turn you down, or maybe even shout at you for making a request. Asking a werewolf to show their wolf is a sacred request and not something that should be asked lightly. You know how important their wolf form is to them. It’s like talking about sex among humans, but much more of a touchy subject.

“That’s it?” his eyebrows are furrowed together at the miniscule nature of your request.

“So you’ll show me? Can you do it on your own will?” your hands clasp in front of your chest in anticipation.

A laugh bellows from his chest. “Of course. I’ll show you” he stands up, dusts his hands, and the back of his jeans. “You may want to close your eyes because I need my clothes for later”

Without needing to be told in exact terms, you close your eyes and cover them with your hands for good measure. You can hear sounds of feet shuffling, a belt unbuckling and soft thuds—probably his clothes dropping ctx dagainst the soil.

“I’ll count to five and then open. One, Two, Three, Four, Five”

You give it a few more seconds just in case before you’re uncovering your eyes. Standing in front of you is a majestic white wolf, with icy blue eyes-- Jungkook’s eyes. Your mouth falls open, your mind unable to come up with words. You cautiously step towards him, hand reaching out wanting to touch him. He meets you halfway, nuzzling his nose against your hand. You laugh.

“You’re beautiful Jungkook” you whisper as you stroke the fur, which is softer than velvet against your hand.

The wolf whimpers in response.

“What can you do as a wolf? Any tricks?” you ask, forgetting that he’s not a dog.

He growls, baring his teeth.

You throw your hands up. “Geez. Sorry. I was just curious” you reach for his muzzle as you continue stroking gently to help him calm down.

He steps back, turns around and starts further into the forest.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

He whimpers and motions beyond the clearing with his head. You start to follow, when you remember his clothes and grab them. He’s already a few paces ahead of you. It seems that even his wolf isn’t patient.

“Slow down will you?” you yell as you run to try and catch up. He doesn’t listen though as he continues on.

You’re breathless by the time you reach a beautiful meadow full of wildflowers and fallen timber. Flowing right next to the meadow is a stream littered with little stones and large rocks alike. Moonlight shines through the cracks between tree branches above you. The air is cooler than you have ever experienced in this part of the woods. The grass is lush and soft beneath your feet unlike the rest of the forest which is mostly soil. You don’t know how you never came upon this place on your walks. But then again Jungkook probably knows the forest best.

He is stopped at the edge of the stream. You drop the pile of his clothes on a log, and walk towards the stream. You crouch and place your hand in the running stream. The icy cold water sends shivers down your body. You flick some of the water on him, at which point he growls at you again.

“This is fun” you chuckle as you get up.

He whimpers as he tackles you to the ground, and nuzzles his nose in your neck.

“It tickles, it tickles, it tickles” you laugh as you try to push him away. You doubt you could have pushed him away in his human form but as a wolf it’s impossible. You rub your hand against his fur. He mewls and falls on his back next to you and you rub his underbelly. He loves it as he continues to make these cute noises and all you want to do is hug him.

A twig snaps somewhere in the distance. Jungkook jumps up to his feet, growling, teeth showing as he paces in front of you looking in the direction of the sound. He continues to snarl and growl, pacing increasing in speed. He looks ready to kill. You abandon your perch on the grass in favor of standing up. You tread towards him. At this point you’re more scared of what he’s doing rather than where the sound came from. You reach him, stopping by his side. You look at him— at those blue eyes of his, and take a step forward but he’s quick to nudge you back with his head.

“It’s alright” you reassure him as you caress the top of his head.

You try once more to step beyond where he’s standing but he gives another push and you tumble back slightly. He snarls at you as he looks back at you over his shoulder, warning you to stay in your place. He turns back to inspect the woods, pacing from side to side.

“Alright. Fine” you give up. “But please don’t do anything. It could just an animal like a squirrel or something”

Ears perked up, he stands towering in front of you.

“I don’t think it was anything” you stay in your spot, as you place your hand on his flank.

He holds up his nose, moving his head in every direction like he’s trying to smell something out. He starts stepping back, his rump hitting you as he does. He turns around, leaning his muzzle against your shoulder, like he’s trying to comfort you and find comfort in you.

“It’s okay” you whisper, skimming his fur. “We’re fine” you wrap your arm around his neck.

He lets out a small cry as he snuggles into you.

“I brought your clothes by the way” you let go of him and he steps back. “I think it’s best if we go home. It’s already 1”

He steps back a few paces and disappears behind a tree while you turn around and wait for him.

“Give me a sign whenever you’re done” you call out. You wait and wait for what seems like ten minutes but is really only a minute or two.

He clears his throat. “I am good.” he says.

You turn around to face him. You really missed seeing his face-- in the human form. He was majestic in his wolf form, but there is something about the human side of him that you can’t get over. In all honesty, he’s a sight to behold.  

“So, what did you think?” he rubs his hands together in anticipation.

“You’re amazing” you meet him halfway. “I’ve seen almost everyone’s wolf form. But yours is breathtaking”

He chuckles. “Thank you. I am sure he’s happy to hear it too” he closes the distance. He reaches for your hand, curling his fingers around your palm. It’s the warmest feeling you have ever felt.

You open your mouth to protest but he’s already cutting you off.

“I am not letting go, until we’re out of these woods.” he tugs on your hand as he turns around and begins towards the house.

“Thank you. It is sweet of you to protect me”

“It’s my job to protect you. I will always be there when you need me” he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

It’s nice to know that you have someone in your corner. “I wish I could say the same. But you don’t need me to protect you”

He nods. “You’re right. But if I ever need a hug, I know who to come to”

Little does he know that you are ready to give him the whole wide world. “Anytime”

Your eyes lock for a few seconds and both of you burst into grins.

Walking in the forest by yourself is always peaceful. But walking in these woods hand in hand with Jungkook is euphoric.

A pang of dread fills your chest when Jungkook ignores you.

Just when you thought things were going good, he distanced himself. You don’t know what went wrong in the days following the night in the woods. But he was avoiding you. It wouldn’t have felt so bad were it not for the fact that the way he ignored you was cold. It wasn’t like you where it was more benign in nature and it was clear that you were avoiding him for fear of embarrassing yourself. He knew that too. But with him it’s something else

He wouldn’t even look at you. A frown seemed to have permanently settled on his face. He was never present anymore. He was always lost in thought with an inscrutable look in his eyes. If you showed up where he was, he’d leave wordlessly. If you tried to talk to him he’d act like he couldn’t even hear you and that would be followed by his departure. And when he did look at you-- the only way to interpret the expression in his eyes was: resentment. You had no idea why he was doing that.

So as the whole family, including Jimin was sitting in the backyard under the canopy for breakfast, Jungkook made to leave just as you were approaching to join them. But his mother made him sit back down.

“Jungkook, you’re not going to leave” her tone is stern.

He rolls his eyes with a huff as he sits back down.

“What’s wrong with you dude?” Jimin leans in, thinking he’s whispering but his voice is a tad bit louder than that.

Even you can hear him just as you are a few steps away.

“Nothing” his voice is devoid of emotion. He leans back in his chair, sliding down against the back like he just wants to disappear. He fiddles with his fingers.

“Hi everyone” you offer a tight lipped smile. Everyone except for Jungkook replies. “Hi Jungkook” you say after not being met with a response.

He stays silent, holding the same sulked posture as before, not even acknowledging your presence.

You catch Jimin’s eyes. He gestures with his head to Jungkook as if to ask ‘what’s up’. You shrug because you have no clue what has gotten into him. You take the empty chair next to Jungkook and you can see him shifting in his chair uncomfortably. Your heart sinks in your chest, but you dismiss it. You look over at Jimin sitting on the opposite side of the table. He looks between you and Jungkook and you just know he’s thinking something. You both look at each other-- a silent conversation ensuing.

“Oh no. I forgot the cutlery” Mrs. Jeon jumps suddenly. She gets up when you interrupt.

“It’s okay. I can grab it” you gesture for her to sit down. “Do you want that special set?” you smile at her.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve all been together like this. I think it’s time we use it. This is a special occasion. The box is in the attic. Will you be okay?”

“It’s okay. I got it”  you put her concern to rest with a grin.

You glance at Jungkook who still hasn’t moved an inch as he is still playing with his fingers and ignoring everyone around him. You make way inside the house, and up the stairs to the second floor. The entrance to the attic is on the second floor. You turn right on the landing, moving towards your room and at the end of the hallway. You pull the rope which unfolds the ladder. It comes down, you climb it and reach the musty room.

It’s full of boxes. You rummage through them to find the one labeled cutlery. The box is quite heavy, but you manage to climb down with it safely. You push the ladder back up, and the door closes blending in with the rest of the ceiling. You carry the box down the first two flights of stairs, slightly shaking because of how heavy it is.

You lose your footing at the beginning of the third set of stairs and down you go five stairs. The box slips from your hand. A scream rips through the air. You manage not to hit your head. But your ankle twists during the fall. You’re laying on your side attempting to get up when everyone rushes into the room.

Jungkook is the first one to arrive. “Are you okay?” he helps you sit up and you wince.

It hurts so damn much, you can’t stop yourself from crying. “I- I am” you grimace. “I am fine” you croak through a strained voice, tears sliding down your cheeks.

“No. You’re not” he cups your cheeks to make you look at him. He inspects your head for injuries. “You’re not fucking fine” he’s pissed as he’s practically at the verge of yelling. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he slides an arm under your back, and the other under your knee as he picks you up off the floor. You lock your hands behind his neck, keeping your gaze cast down. You don’t want to look at him in this condition.“I am taking her to her room” he announces, and no one even gets a word in because he’s already started up the flight of stairs.

You try to contain your cries, but the pain is too sharp especially at your ankle. You can sense him looking down at you.

“What were you trying to do?” he shakes his head. You should have called for help, you idiot”

“Sorry” you snivel still not meeting his eyes. “I was just trying to bring the box down and I lost my footing”

You reach the room, and he kicks the ajar door fully open. Once you’re in, he kicks it close. He gently lays you down on the bed, adjusting the pillow underneath your head.

You wince in pain, wiping away the tears. For the first time you look at him and he’s pacing, like he was in the woods except he’s in his human form. “Where does it hurt?” he sounds concerned but it’s that angry kind of way. There is no softness in his tone, if anything its gruff.

“You don’t have to worry. I am okay”

“Bullshit” he stops and sits at the edge of the bed, as he takes off your shoe and sock to look at your ankle. He touches the ankle bone, and you inhale a sharp breath. “See” he shakes his head like he’s disappointed. “That looks like it’s sprained. You could have asked--”

“You for help?” you complete his sentence, full well knowing that’s what he intended.

His eyes flicker to you, but he doesn’t say anything. He begins to gently feel around your ankle for any other injuries, brows furrowing in concentration.

You watch him, as he continues to look for other wounds,or gashes-- scanning your legs, arms, and face. You can’t understand the sudden shift in his behaviour. “What are you doing?”

He stops to look at you. “What do you mean? I am checking for any other injuries” he says in a blunt tone and resumes inspection.

“That’s not what I mean” you push his hands away from your forearms just as he’s looking over for more bruises. “Why do you suddenly give a shit? What do you care if I live or die”

He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again and shuts it, grinding his jaw. “I’ll grab ice” he ignores your question and gets up from the bed.

You tug him back by the hem of his sleeve. “I need an answer”

“I don’t have one” he yanks his arm, and the cloth slips from your fingers.

“This is what I am talking about” you bite the inside of your cheek just as he’s approaching the door “One minute you act like you give a crap about me, and the next you act like you wouldn’t blink an eye if I died”

He’s reaching for the doorknob when he turns around. His brown wide eyes stare back at you He scoffs. “I wouldn’t care if you died?” his disbelief reflects in his partly open mouth. Do you---” he covers his face with his hands, taking in deep breaths and letting his hands run through his locks before looking at you. “You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about” he turns around and reaches for the door when there is a knock.

He sighs in frustration. “Who the hell--” he opens the door.

Jimin stands on the other side of the door with an ice pack in his hand, and a bottle of what looks like medicine. Jimin peeks over Jungkook’s shoulder, about to say something. But Jungkook grabs the ice pack and medicine wordlessly and shuts the door in his face.

He walks back and presses the ice pack to your ankle, while holding the tiny bottle out for you.

“I don’t want it” you say sharply, looking to the side.

You hear him huff. “Do I look like I give a shit right now?” he seethes through clenched teeth.

You turn to him. “You know this whole tough guy act doesn’t scare me”

He pulls his lower lip between his teeth. If this were a cartoon he would have smoke coming out of his ears. “Just take it”

You study him, your gazes locked on each other. Neither of you even blink. His nostrils are still flaring and you’re still breathing heavily through pursed lips. “I hate you” you snatch the bottle from him and chug the bitter liquid down.

His expression changes for a moment-- the look in his eyes softens. He blinks, casting his gaze down momentarily. But then he’s back to carrying a frown on his face as he looks up at you. “You should. You shouldn’t like me at all” his tone gentler than before, hiding beneath it an infinity of disappointment that you catch.

“Well now I don’t. You damn well made sure of that” you grab the pillow next to you and hide your face behind it.

Seconds later you hear the door slam and that’s when you scream into the pillow.

Your ankle gets better in the next couple of weeks, but your relationship with Jungkook doesn’t. You’re still distant from each other. Still angry at each other. Your silent fight has tensed the atmosphere in the whole house. It’s awkward to say the least. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon skirt around you both, walking on eggshells whenever you are in a room together. Dinners are silent for the most part except for when his parents make conversation about their day.

You both ignore each other. Neither of you even looks in the direction of the other person. If you happen to pass each other in the house, you avoid each other.

Perhaps everyone has had enough-- especially Mrs. Jeon since she broaches the subject at dinner one night.

“Alright” she holds her fingers in a steeple. “What the hell is wrong with you two?”

You and Jungkook glance at each other wary of how she’s speaking because she never swears-- not even use the word ‘hell’.

You both say at the same time. “Nothing”

“Bullshit” she slams her hands on the table.

“Honey” Mr. Jeon looks at her.

She dismisses it. “ No. We’re going to address this”

“Mom” Jungkook looks at her warningly. “Don’t”

“What happened?” she looks at you. “He won’t tell me” she glances at her son from the periphery of her vision. “But I know you will”

“Nothing. I promise” you offer a half hearted smile.

“I wasn’t expecting this from you y/n” she sounds disappointed.

“Mrs. Jeon. I swear to you it’s nothing. Even if there is something we can sort it out amongst ourselves”

“Well that’s just the problem isn’t it. You’re not. You don’t even look at each other”

You avert your gaze sideways.

“Just drop it will you?” Jungkook sounds frustrated. “We’re good” he doesn’t even look sincere in the least bit.

You nod finding purchase in your lap, barely making eye contact with anyone.

“Whatever it is, apologize” she demands. She looks to Jungkook, raising her brows at him expectantly. She waits for him to say something. He avoids looking at her but she is persistent. It’s only for a few seconds but he crumbles under the pressure and mumbles a “sorry”

“Look at her and say it” Mrs. Jeon says curtly.

He looks at you, eyes meeting yours for the first time in weeks.

Something changes in you and once again you feel like crying just because he’s there.

“Sorry” he looks away, folding his arms across his chest and chewing on his lip.

“Well you can tell him Mrs. Jeon that if he isn’t going to mean it, I don’t accept it” you glance at her and then back at your lap, leaning against the chair. 

“You can tell her that this is all she’s getting from me” he looks at his mother too.

“Tell him that he’s the one who started it. So, if he can’t even own up to it there really is no point in talking about it” your cheeks feel warm as you keep your gaze fixed firmly on your lap.

“While you’re at it mom, you can tell her that she shouldn’t be talking about things when she doesn’t know what’s going on” Jungkook rolls his eyes.

Your nostrils flare and so do his. You’re breathing heavily, cheeks red and eyes wide. “Maybe Mrs. Jeon you can remind him that he never actually told me what his problem is” you glare at him.

She looks between the two of you and your both lower your gaze.

Jungkook scoffs, returning an equally contemptuous glare towards you. “I don’t have a problem. It’s not my fault she doesn’t understand I don’t actually want to talk to her”

“Great! you throw your hands in the air and look at his parents. “You can tell him he’s the biggest asshole I have ever met in my entire life and I regret ever feeling anything for him” you slam your hands on the table and storm off.

The breeze is cool as it caresses your face. You sniffle away the tears as they well up in your eyes. The woods seem to be the only thing that can comfort you. You walk down your usual pathway, hugging yourself against the chill. As you look around at the moon bathed trees, they look different to you. But they don’t seem as beautiful to you as they did when you were with Jungkook.

The whole forest feels different.

You reach the clearing once more where he found you. You’re overcome with emotion, and your eyes tear up once again. You choke a sob away. You sit against the same tree, look at the same clear sky blanketed by stars. His voice echoes in your head when he asked if he could give you a hug.

You don’t know what happened to that boy. You don’t know where he went and if he will ever come back. You thought he was a friend. But it turns out he wasn’t. He’s just a stranger that you used to know.

You’re immersed in your thoughts. You look down at your hands, a bittersweet sigh passing your lips.

There is a rustle in the bushes near you and you’re immediately on alert. You slowly stand up trying not to make any sudden movements. You look in the direction of the sound and see two glowing brown eyes staring at you.

Your breath catches in your throat. You don’t straighten up fully, for the fear of aggravating whatever animal it is, so you stay in a partly bent position, hands visible by your side.

The animal steps out from behind the shadows.

It’s a wolf-- a black one. It’s not Jimin because his fur is brown. It sure as hell isn’t Jungkook.

The wolf growls at you. It steps towards you like a predator towards prey.

Full blown panic sets in. You’re frozen on the spot. Your heart beats hard and fast, as if the sound rings in your ears. Is this how you die? Alone in the woods? Your whole life flashes in your mind. Among all of that the only name and face that echoes in your head is Jungkook’s  because you would hate to die and not have a chance to talk to him. That would be the biggest regret of your life.

The wolf is still approaching you, and it’s halfway there. It growls and snarls-- saliva dripping from its mouth.

“Oh please no” you whisper, as your knees begin to buckle.

The wolf takes a leap towards you. But at the end second, you see a white one knocking the black one out mid air. They both fly some distance and fall on the ground.

“Jungkook!” you scream running in his direction.

Those blue eyes look back at you as he gets up on all fours.He keeps growling at the other wolf.. You know better than to interfere, so you stay behind him. Both of them snarl at each other. The other wolf howls, probably to try and intimidate Jungkook. But then he howls-- it’s loud and fierce so much so that you have to close your ears. He then makes a sound that is a mix between a roar and a growl as he steps towards the wolf.

“Jungkook no” you hold your hand out for him but he’s just beyond your reach. He looks back at you. You shake your head. He turns to the other wolf and makes a sound that sounds like a threatening bark.

There is a moment where they both just look at each other. Then the other one whimpers and leaves-- tail between its legs quite literally.  

Your knees give out and you fall on the ground, sobbing and hugging yourself. Your cries fill the air. You sob hard enough to make your whole body shake. You have never felt such fear in your life and not just for yourself. You were more worried for Jungkook.

He comes running to you, fully clothed somehow. He immediately holds you in his arms. He holds you close, chin resting on the top of your head, as you bury your face in his chest, body shaking in his arms. You can’t even breathe  properly-- gasping for air with short shallow breaths.“Jungkook” you whimper, holding onto his shirt.

“I am here” he squeezes tighter. “I am right here. You’re safe”

“I-I” you pull back to look up at him, eyes swollen and red, tears still falling down your face in droves. “I thought you were going to...” you bawl again just at the thought of something happening to him. You hide your face against his chest, wrapping your arms against him so tight, you’re sure he’s having a hard time breathing.

“I am okay. I am not even hurt” he reassures you.

“I was so…” you hiccup. “Worried that--that s-some-something w-would happen to you” you manage to choke out the words.

“Look at me” he holds your face in his hands, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. “I am completely okay. I was worried for you. I was scared. I was so so scared” he gazes into your eyes, and you know he’s speaking the truth because he’s beginning to cry too.

You sniffle, trying to control your sobs so you can tell him. “The only thing I could think of was you. I didn’t want to die without talking to you. I was afraid I would never get to talk to you”

“Me too” he croaks. “You didn’t get hurt anywhere did you?” there is panic in his eyes as he suddenly realizes that.

You shake your head. “No. You saved me”

“I told you I’d always protect you didn’t I?” he snivels.

Your lips just in a pout, lips quivering. “How did you know?” you slide your thumbs against his cheeks to wipe the tears.

“I came to the woods to cool off for a bit” he stops to rub the tears from your cheeks as the water works start again. “I was just so pissed, so naturally my wolf took over and I transformed. I was just roaming around, when I could smell you. I followed your scent. I saw the whole thing and trust me, my heart almost stopped. I was waiting for the right moment to intervene and when that wolf jumped at you, I lost it”

“I am sorry I said all those things” you clutch the material of his shirt tighter, looking down.

“No. I started this whole shit and if I hadn’t you wouldn’t have gotten into trouble. I could have lost you tonight and it would have been my fault. I could never forgive myself” he takes your hands in his, curling his fingers in yours. “I am so so sorry”

“So we’re good?” you chuckle.

He doesn’t laugh with you. “Look, if this night has proved anything, it’s that you shouldn’t like me. I told you. Don’t like me. I am not right for you. I am not even good for you. Look at where I landed you tonight” his fingers begin to slip from yours.

“You’re wrong” you hold tight onto his hands.

“I can’t y/n” he avoids your eyes, his shoulders droop. He looks absolutely defeated.

“What’s the reason?” you press on. “Is it someone else?”

“No” he’s quick to shut down that train of thoughts in your head. “There’s no one else. But I can’t. You hold too much power over me. That’s exactly why I can’t”

“I don’t get it. You do all these things for me that no one ever has. Your actions say one thing and your words another. What am I supposed to do Jungkook?”

“Don’t like me. Stay far far away from me” he pulls his hands away from yours. “I’ll take you home”

“Jungkook-”

“I am taking you home” he says firmly, as he lifts you off the ground in his arms.

You hook your hands behind his neck. You let your head rest against the crook of his neck. You let him take you home because you’re too tired to fight. You don’t want to fight with him because you know that you love this man. If the night taught you anything, it was that.

“Y/n we’re going to be leaving” Mrs. Jeon hurriedly comes into the kitchen, opening up cabinets and grabbing food.

“Leaving?” your brows furrowed. “Where?”

“Jungkook’s dad and I have to go to the orphanage in the city for an event. We’ll be back by tonight. But Jungkook is home if you need anything” she packs up a bag full of food, probably for the journey since the drive to the city is 2 hours.

“Wait, you’re both leaving? Jungkook and I are going to be alone…?” your voice trails at the end, having been met with a dreadful realization.

Mrs. Jeon’s nose scrunches as she walks over to you. “Is everything okay?”

You’re too busy worrying so you don’t even hear her.

Mrs. Jeon calls out your name a couple of times before she physically has to shake you. “Y/n, what’s going on?”

You blink rapidly. “Oh nothing. Everything is fine. I just thought he would go with you too”

“We asked him, but he said you’d be alone at home so he’ll stay too”

“He said that?” your eyes widen. You don’t understand his concern.

She nods. “Mmhmm. He also said he will stay just in case you need something while everyone is gone. I would ask you to come too but I didn’t want you to feel bad”

You shake your head. “It’s alright. I’d cry the whole time anyway thinking of my parents” you chuckle. “But you know I can take care of myself”

Mrs. Jeon chuckles. “I know that. But tell Jungkook that because this boy was adamant on not wanting to leave you alone. I don’t understand him” she shakes her head, like any mother aggrieved of her child would. You can’t blame her though. He is a unique specimen.

“Yeah me neither” you purse your lips in a smile.

“Alright. We’ll be off then” she gives you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “If he troubles you, call me right away”

“I will”

She makes haste of leaving, carrying the bag.

You spend a better part of the day hiding in your room, avoiding Jungkook. It’s the only place in the entire house where he won’t come. Not after everything that has happened between you. He’s honorable in that sense. Things have shifted between you once again. There’s no anger anymore. All of that has been replaced by awkwardness. Now if you see each other, you only nod at one another. Occasionally, you talk too. But it’s always surface level things. Nonetheless, it’s a step in the right direction.

At half past one though, your stomach starts to grumble and gradually all you can think about is food. It’s a relief in a way because it distracts you from him. You spend ten minutes trying to persuade your brain that you’re not actually hungry.

“I am not hungry” you chant it like a mantra hoping that at least for a while it will go away.

After agonizing and torturing yourself for half an hour, you give in.

“Fuck this” you grumble as your hunger gets the better of you. You drag yourself down to the kitchen. Unlike last time though you don’t tiptoe around the house.

You go into the kitchen, open the fridge to find two plates already filled with food. A note, no doubt from Mrs. Jeon is stuck into the cling film: don’t forget to eat.

You grab a plate for yourself, leaving the other one in the fridge for Jungkook. You’re about to shut the door, when you change your mind. This may serve as an excuse to talk to him. At the end of the day, you’re going to be living in the same house. So you figure you can’t go on avoiding him.

You grab the second plate, heat both of them in the microwave.

You head back upstairs, where the bedroom’s are. You turn left at the landing towards his room which is at the end of the hallway. You stop in front of the door, and seeing as your hands are full you settle for calling his name. “Jungkook, you in your room? I got food”

You wait, but there is no response.

“Jungkook” you call again.

No response. Finding yourself with no other choice left, you somehow manage to balance the plate on your forearm. With the free hand, you turn the handle.

You peek your head inside to find the room empty. Just as you’re about to leave your eyes catch something at his bedside table. You know you shouldn’t go inside, but you can’t help it. You leave one of the plate’s on his bedside table  because you can’t lug three things around. You grab it, meaning to ask him about it when you find him.

You close the door, and head back downstairs. You walk the whole of the first floor from the dining room, living room, kitchen, family room calling out his name. But he’s nowhere.

“Maybe he’s in the basement” you think to yourself as you head downstairs. You walk down the steps.

It’s dark save for the blue LED lights running along the ceiling. You walk in further turning the corner from where the pool table, and the arcade game machines are. You remember that before Jungkook left he had set up one half of the basement as his gaming room.

Sure enough as you near the room you hear sounds of gunshots, and rifles and some mild cursing which makes you chuckle.

You don’t bother knocking as you enter. The same blue LED lights adorn the room. You can see his black mop of hair against the couch.

“Are you hungry?” you say tentatively as you stop next to the couch.

He immediately stops playing, throwing his remote on the ground as he turns to you. He takes off his headphones. You notice his hair is tied up in a bun, which manages to make your heart skip a few beats.

“Oh hey” he says, straightening up. “You didn’t have to” he notices the plate in your hand.

“Your mom said you haven’t been eating” you hold the plate for him and he reaches for it.

“Thanks” he offers a pursed lip smile. He takes the plate and sets it aside on the side table. A few beats of silence pass. He taps his fingers against one another, something you notice he does when he’s nervous. His eyes stay fixed on his hands.

“Will you make me a promise?” you look at his profile.

He clears his throat. “Depends on what it is”

You roll your eyes, fully expecting that response. “Just say you will”

Your persistent gaze makes him shift uncomfortably in his spot. He sighs, looking ahead at nothing in particular, while thinking over your request. He turns to you. “Fine”

“Promise me if I ask you questions, you will answer. It can be anything”

“That doesn’t sound very fair” his lips quiver at the corners, a hint of smile making an appearance. “What if I don’t want to answer”

“Too bad” you narrow your eyes at him. “You don’t have a choice. So?” you raise your brows giving him an expectant look.

He considers your demand, looking back at his hands again. “Well looks like I don’t have a choice”

“Good. Because I am asking right now”

At this, he looks at you wide eyed.

“Now?”

You nod. “Mmhmm. Tell me why you won’t act on your feelings”

He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off. “Don’t deny it. If you didn’t feel anything for me you wouldn’t have lost your shit the day I hurt my ankle and you sure as shit wouldn’t have risked your life for me” you remind him. “And you wouldn’t have put this next to your bed” you bring forward the picture of you and him Mrs.Jeon’s friends had taken-- the one where you’re both looking at each other as he holds you by the waist.

He lets out an exasperated sigh. He rubs his hands on his face, resting his elbows on his knees as he keeps his face covered. He pulls his hands away , crossing them together. He looks at you, trying to determine how he should begin. “You’re right. I do have feelings for you. I’ve been here before y/n and…” he pauses, swallowing thickly.

“And what?” you prod, placing the photo frame next to you.

“She was beautiful. You should have seen her. She was amazing, just beyond I could express. Everyone here loved her. We used to spend every day together. Her parents hated me for it” he lets out a chuckle, a nostalgic look in his eyes.

“What happened?”

“She-- she died”

Your mouth hangs open. “I am so so sorry. I had no idea. I am sorry. Just.. forget I asked. I don’t need to know” you feel guilty immediately.

“No. It’s alright. I’ve already started. There was a fire in the woods years ago and she died in that. Some humans were having a bonfire and they left the fire burning. It caught on and somehow she got stuck in the middle of it with no escape” he looks down at his hands yet again.

You shift closer to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders resting your head on against the crook of his neck. “I am really sorry”

“Thank you” he places a hand on your forearm, leaning his cheek on your head.

“If I had known, I never would have pressed you. I feel like an asshole” you mumble.

“You’re not an asshole” he replies.

“I get it now and I promise you I won’t ever ask you to consider your feelings for me again” you lift your head and place a kiss on his cheek.

His lips curve up in a grin immediately and he is quick to place a kiss on your cheek too. “You’re amazing” his gaze locks with yours.

“I know” you grin. “Can I ask you something else too... ?” you say tentatively.

He nods. “Anything”

“Did you… did you imprint on her?” you ask, noting just how close you’re sitting to him. You can smell his breath, and feel it on your face as he beholds you in the most loving look in his eyes.

A coughing fit ensues for Jungkook, and you unwrap your arms from his shoulder, in favour of gently patting his back. “Sorry. Bad question hey?”

“No” he dismisses with his hand. “It’s just I’ve never been asked that”

“Forget I asked” you shake your head.

“No. I promised. Not her. Only my human side loved her. To imprint on someone all of me, including my wolf has to feel something. That’s the only way werewolves can imprint and it would be a far stronger bond than what I had with her” he sighs. “I have imprinted on someone. Not her” he finally answers your question.

“Oh my god” your heart sinks. “I- I have no idea what to say” you shift away from him, feeling like you’ve violated some rule. As if you have made him cheat on someone with you.

“Y/n” he says as soon as he sees your body language tensing. “It’s not what you’re thinking”

“No” you shake your head. “I am sorry. I am so sorry. I am so fucking stupid” you get up abruptly and march off while he calls out for you.

As is customary every third Friday of the month, the children from the neighbourhood gather around the campfire. This time Jungkook is there so he’ll have to answer all their questions.

Everyone sits around in a circle, some on the logs and others on chairs. Jungkook and you sit on opposite sides of the fire, Your eyes are fixed on the embers burning away. He holds a stick as he’s poking at the coal to keep the fire going. Your eyes meet momentarily as you both look up, but you look away first, busying yourself with watching the fire burn away the wood once more. You can still however feel his gaze resting on your face. But you’re too resigned at this moment to feel anything but emptiness.

“Is everyone ready?” Jimin comes along, absolutely chirpy and the complete opposite of how you look and feel. That’s when you sense Jungkook looks away. Jimin settles into the empty spot on the log next to you. He passes around drinks to the group. He offers you one too, but you decline. “Hey” he nudges you.

“Hmm” you turn your attention to him.

“What’s going on with you? Everyone’s been asking me what’s up”

“Nothing’s up” you shrug. “I am absolutely okay”

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. But at least don’t lie” Jimin purses his lips in a smile.

“Sorry Jiminie. I am just not feeling great. I’ll be okay I promise” you note with a half assed smile.

“So who wants to go first and ask Jungkook questions” Jimin turns to the group once he’s assured by you. The group is made up of mostly older kids in their late teens. But there are some younger children mixed in the group.

A chorus of ‘me, me ,me, me’ starts up.

“How about we go one by one” Jimin suggests and the sea of hands in the air disappears.

“How was the city?” someone from your side asks. But you couldn’t be bothered to know who.

“It was good.” he sighs, poking the fire logs once again. “But it was dull compared to this place” his eyes flicker to you momentarily.

You catch him, if only for a second and then look at your hands as you fiddle with them.

“Did you find a human mate? I am sure you met very pretty girls” one of the girls asks. The question you piques your interest.

You remember she was the one who excitedly told you Jungkook was back.

He doesn’t respond immediately which only makes you think that he did meet someone there. Why wouldn’t he? She’s probably the one he’s imprinted on. You would leave were it not for Jimin who holds your wrist with a shake of his head as soon as he sees you’re about to get up.

“I did meet girls.” Jungkook says, looking at the little girl. “But they are nothing compared to someone else I know” he shifts his gaze to you once more. “She’s beautiful, but she doesn’t see it that way” he looks right at you, like he’s speaking to you, and you only. Time seems to stand still momentarily because he acts like no one else is around. “It’s a shame because she really is the most beautiful girl I have ever met” he holds your gaze, rendering you unable to look away.

You hear aww’s and squeals from all around you which pulls you away from the trance and blinkingly you avert your gaze.

“Does she know you like her?” someone else asks, this time a boy.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I think she does. By the way, I thought this was about exchanging stories about our ancestry” he looks around at everyone.

“Yeah. We hear those every month. But this is much more exciting and romantic” one of the older girls probably in her late teens replies, and everyone agrees as they nod or offer a ‘yes’ in agreement. “Tell us more. What’s it like to imprint on someone?”

“Are you sure we should be talking about this? Aren’t they young?” Jungkook looks at Jimin.

“They won’t tell if you don’t. Right guys?” Jimin chuckles and everyone nods eagerly.

“Alright then” Jungkook continues.

At this point you really want to leave because you don’t want to hear about how she makes him happy, and how his whole life has changed because of her. But you stay because some part of you is still holding onto hope of you and him.

“It feels like gravity is shifting from underneath you. When you look at her, you can see everything clearly. It’s as if your past, present, and future come together all at once and everything makes sense. It’s as if you finally find the ‘why’ of your existence. You’ll be anything for her-- whatever she needs be that a protector, a friend, a lover. Anything… he trails.

“That’s so romantic” the girl squeals dreamily. “I want that too”

Jungkook laughs. “Any other burning questions?”

“When are you going to tell her?” another question comes which only furthers your resolve to leave. You get up, having had enough of it. The moment you stand, everyone turns to look at you. Without a word, you begin walking towards the house.

“Don’t you want to know who it is y/n?” Jungkook yells as you leave,  his words halting you in your steps. You feel everyone’s eyes darting back and forth between you and him.

You look over your shoulder. ‘I already told you”

“I think you’ll want to know,” he replies. You hear the crunch of the grass beneath his feet as he walks towards you. He gently places a hand on your elbow to turn you around. “Just let me tell you”

You glance up at the man. “I won’t be a--able to hear it” your voice cracks.

“I did imprint on someone—“

“Jungkook” you say warningly.

“Just listen to me” his grip on your elbow tightens, his jaw tightening.

“Jungkook please” you beg just as your eyes begin to water. You avert your gaze to the side. “Please. I cannot do this” you shake your head.

“I love her” he continues anyway despite your protests. You know he’s looking at you. But you can’t. You can hear the pain in his voice which makes everything so much more worse because that means he could never love anyone the way he loved her. “ She makes everything make sense and-”

“Just stop” you yank your elbow away from his hand and walk away.

You sit at the edge of the pier which juts out to the side from the boardwalk. just as the sun begins to set behind the mountains. The night market bustles in the distance. Crowds and crowds of people and come and go. Yet you feel calm, just watching the waves ripple beneath your feet. You dip them in the cold water, shivers running through your body. You splash the water, trying to pass your time.

You would have gone to the woods but given everything that has happened in that forest, you’re not too fond of it at the moment. This time Jungkook won’t be there to protect you. He’s out with his friends somewhere. You didn’t bother to ask where, not that it is any of your business.

From the periphery of your vision you can see a group of guys jumping down on the wooden planks of the pier.

You feel disappointed because you won’t have the space to yourself anymore.

They’re laughing, and being boys in general which makes you roll your eyes.

They pass by behind you, being as loud as ever. You ignore their incessant and annoyingly loud voices as you focus on the sun which is still in the process of setting. You close your eyes, the wind blowing softly against your face, and through your hair.

“Y/n?”

You instantly whip around to come face to face with none other than the man who had made a home out of your thoughts.

“Jungkook? You’re here?” You question, using your hands to push yourself up.

“Careful” his hands come out as if to hold you in case you fall.

“It’s okay” you tuck strands of hair behind your ears. “I am fine”

“I was just with my friends” he turns behind, and points to them while they stand a respectful distance away. They wave at you and hesitantly you wave back. “Why are you here?”

“I needed to get out of the house. The woods aren’t exactly my favorite place right now. So I thought why not come here” you shrug.

He nods, sliding his fingers in his jean pockets, rocking back and forth on his toes. “So…”

“So…” you fold your arms across your chest out of sheer self-consciousness.

“Do you maybe want to-” he starts.

“Hey Jungkook” a random girl throws her arms around his shoulders from behind, chin resting on his shoulder.

You look between the two of them.

This must be her. She’s pretty

“I thought we were gonna go eat” she pouts at him questioningly.

He doesn’t look at her as he speaks. Instead he locks eyes with you. He stares at you— wordlessly, like he’s lost in you. “Yeah” his reply is intended for her.

“Well introduce me, won’t you?” she looks at him and then at you.

“This is…” he’s still looking at you and you only.

“I am Alix” she extends a hand, much too cheerfully.

“Y/n” you can only manage to press your lips to feign a smile.

“Ohhh” her mouth opens in realization and she looks at him, like she’s impressed.

This time he looks at her and nods.

“Well y/n, do you want to come to dinner with us?” she offers kindly. But to your ears it’s anything but.

“No. I am alright. But thank you” you look at her. “See you at home Jungkook”

“Just come” he says just as you’re about to turn around to leave.

“I have to do some stuff at home” you say listlessly. “I’ll see you tonight” you reply with a ghost of a smile.

Yet again you turn away from him, not even waiting for his response.

You walk all the way back home, thankful that the way back is quiet, and not many people are around. You take the road from the pier that merges into the street that leads to your house up the hill.

You kick your feet beneath you, sighing heavily every so often. A fluttery feeling intensifies in your stomach the closer you get to home. Your chest feels heavy, a dull ache coming on. Your breathing quickens pace, not so much from the effort of walking up the hill but the mental exhaustion that you’ve faced in the past few weeks.

Love fucking sucks.

Your thoughts are occupied by Jungkook and Jungkook only. Every thought begins and ends with him and soon enough your head is full of memories you spent with him-- good and bad. It’s like a movie playing in your head-- beginning with the first time you saw him after he came back, and just a few minutes ago to Alix and her perfectly pretty face. How could he not love her?

By the end of it, you’re positively bawling your eyes out. Tears upon tears cascade down your face, with no indication of stopping anytime soon. You wipe your nose with the back of your hand, sniffling. Your legs become heavy with the weight of carrying you up the hill. Your head hurts, and you’re sure you’ll faint if you don’t sit down soon.

You quietly continue to sob, head hung low as you reach the gate. You push it open. Your feet drag beneath you, a heavy tread leaving marks of soil from the walk up on the cemented pathway. You open the door to the house, only to hit your head on something.

“Ow” you mumble, rubbing the spot that’s starting to ache. It only makes you sob more. “What the hell...” you lament under your breath, beginning to cry with the force of someone writhing in pain on all fours. You fall on your knees, everything inside you giving up. You cry the way a child does-- hiccuping, heaving to catch your breath only to have it be drowned by another wave of painful sobs.

“Just stop” Jungkook’s voice cracks, as he falls to his knees in front of you too. “Stop doing this to yourself” he croaks.

“I don’t know how to” you strain.

“I can make it all go away y/n” his cheeks are stained with tears too. He gathers you in his arms just like he’s done before. He kisses the top of your head. “Just let me make it go away. Please”

You break the embrace to look up at him through tear soaked eye lashes. “You can’t” your voice quivers.

“If you just…” he stops to take a deep breath, arms loosely wrapped around your back. He’s defeated into silence by your cries.

“It hurts” you clutch the material of his shirt., tucking your chin into your neck “It hurts so so much”

“It’s you”

You don’t even hear him, as you hide your face behind your hands, your body shaking due to your forceful sobs.

“It’s you.” he says again. “Listen to me. For once. Please” he’s begging you at this point.

You uncover your face to look at him. “What?”

“It’s been you all along”

“Wh…” your mouth remains open as you gawk at him. You hastily wipe your face with your hands as if that will somehow help you make sense of it.

“It’s you” he says in a whisper. “It’s you” he looks into your eyes this time--really looks as he says it for the third time almost like he’s saying it as a mantra. “I love you”

As if on cue, you stop crying because his words sink in. You don’t just hear them, you understand them. You begin connecting the dots. “Holy shit” you look at him daze. “I never even gave you a chance to speak” you bemoan that fact.

A bittersweet chuckle softly crosses his lips. “You didn’t. If you had, you wouldn’t have tortured yourself like this. Couldn’t you see it?” he searches your eyes for an answer that will make sense to him.

“How could I have? You’re you and I am me-- clumsy and stupid. You acted like there was someone else this whole time” you rub your eyes to dry the tears away.

“You never gave me a chance to tell you. I tried so many times. That night in the woods when I said I feel what you feel, you misunderstood that as being part of my abilities as a werewolf. But that’s not true. I feel every emotion you feel and I feel it ten times more than you because I imprinted on you .Then I tried to tell you during our conversation in game room and you walked away”

“Then why didn’t you do anything? Why didn’t you just act on it? You should have stopped me”

“You know why” a slight frown adorns his forehead.

You gulp hard, realizing the depth of what you just said. An apology is just at the tip of your tongue. “I know I said I wouldn’t ask you to consider my feelings ever again. But Jungkook, I can’t. Being around you overwhelms me. All I want to do is be around you, have you in my sights and when you’re not I feel disappointed and sad. I miss you every single second of the day when you’re not there. ”

“I have seen the entirety of us y/n-- everything that was, is and all that is to come ”

“I’ve imagined a whole future with you too”

He doesn’t respond.

Your stomach feels tight, your chest feels like something is pressing on it as his silence continues. Your gaze doesn’t leave him for even a second. You feel like you’re naked, as if the whole of you is on display, vulnerable to the point where even a single look will be enough to make or break you.

“I am just asking you to love me” your soft voice doesn’t dampen the gravity of your words.

He scoffs. “That’s just it though. I don’t just love you. I am bound by you. I am bound to you for the rest of my existence. That’s far scarier than love”

“I don’t know how to reply to that. All I know is I am in love with you exactly the way you’re in love with me” you shift closer to him, locking your fingers in his. “Because I can’t deny you any more than you can deny me”

He looks down and plays with your fingers. “That’s true. But I haven’t stopped thinking about the night you got attacked. What would have happened if I wasn’t there? What would I have done with myself if something happened to you?” his words reflecting the guilt he’s been feeling.

“Quit blaming yourself” you chide him. “Anything can happen to me, or to you at any given time. So stop worrying about that and keep your promise of protecting me. It’s not like you can switch this off”

“Not any more than I can stop breathing” he replies.

“Then love me. It’s simple. Jungkook, we either do this, or we don’t” it’s not that you are giving him an ultimatum, but it’s a fact.

“You know as much as I do, that even if in some ridiculous world I wanted to say no, I couldn’t. So you don’t have to worry about me not loving you. Because that just isn’t possible. Not only because I chose you but because that’s just how it is”

“Then what are we doing here?”

“I already told you I love you. You know that I do”

“And that’s supposed to be it?” you raise your brows at him.

His lip quivers into a lopsided smile, the solemn mood beginning to shift. “Tell me what you want”

“Just kiss--”

His lips on yours quiet down your thoughts to nothing. Shivers cascade down your body in waves. He invades each of your senses. The fluttering in your stomach grows intense. His lips feel soft against your own.

Jungkook keeps his eyes slightly open, taking a guilty peek at your face. He still couldn’t imagine if this was a figment of his imagination, or if the universe had gifted him this moment just at the right time. But he felt thankful for it beyond words could express. Every breath he took smelled like you— like water lilies.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time.” he breathes heavily. He doesn’t even give you the chance to speak because he’s pressing his lips to yours once again— softly and gently. His hands run the sides of your body, the material of your shirt gathering together, exposing your skin.

He guides you up without breaking the kiss, pulling you in to erase every inch of space between your bodies. You can feel every contour of his body against your own. You hold him tight, trying to take in the feeling.

His hands slide under your thighs as he picks you up, you wrap your legs around his hips, as he takes you inside the house. He carries you as if you don’t weigh anything— through the house and up the stairs to his room.

“What” kiss. “About” kiss. “Your parents?”

“Not” kiss  “here” he mumbles between a kiss.

He kicks the door open and carries you in until your back hits a wall. He gently lets you down, till the tips of your toes are touching the floor. He breaks the kiss. “You know I won’t do anything you don’t want right?” his gaze, fixated on your eyes.

You nod, running your tongue over your lips and tasting him.”How could I not want this” you pull him by the nape of his neck, unable to bear even one second of distance. He happily obliges, melting into the kiss with a content sigh. It kind of feels like you’re drunk because there is a slight buzz and your mind feels hazy. You’re thoughtless at the moment, and your entire body is burning. Kissing him, touching him-- is all the intoxication you need to feel out of control. Neither your mind, nor your body is acting under your direction anymore

Your whole being is responding only to Jungkook. Every kiss, every soft touch, every caress, every stroke elicits a reaction from you.

“Tell me what you want, baby” he asks, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck and to your chest. “Tell me exactly what you want” his mouth parts against the skin of your neck as he bites down gently.

You can’t help the moan that passes your lips and fades into the air. “You”

He inhales sharply at your words as if that is enough to turn him on. He lifts his head up to look at you “You wanted me to love you right?” he pushes your thighs out by burying his leg between yours. He pushes his thigh against you exactly where you’re aching for him.

“Oh my god….” your voice fails you.

“I’ve thought of you so many nights, for so long” he pushes in more and you grind your hips against his thigh.

“I want more” you can’t help but mumble. “Please”

A corner of his lip raises in a smirk. “Your wish is my command” . He swipes his thumb against your clothed clit. “Is this what you want baby?”

You nod, a whimper crossing your lips as the sound of your heavy breaths fills the air.

You continue to rock your hips against his thigh, while he continues to rub circles on your clit. “Does that feel good?” he asks, but before you can even respond he’s shoving his tongue down your mouth through your parted lips.

You moan into him. eyes shutting tight at the fluttery sensation between your legs. You clutch the fabric of his shirt, unable to hold yourself up longer as you clench around nothing in particular. You feel the adrenaline in every part of your body-- in the pounding of your heart, in your breathless noises, in the way your body grows warmer by the second.

You open your eyes to look at him, cupping his face in your hands. But he’s already looking at you. His pupils are dilated, irises beginning to change colour from his chocolate brown to blue while he continues to kiss you. His hand stops moving against your clit, and he removes his thigh from between your legs. At the loss of friction you feel like a starved animal, needing more, and more, and more. You didn’t think you could ever feel this way, but he was making you abandon all of your inhibitions and want whatever he could give you. You didn’t know if you would ever feel satisfied after what you started.

But Jungkook knows exactly how to pleasure you and then some more as he picks you up and leads you to his bed where he lays you down. He hovers over you, palms pressed into the mattress on either side of you. He gulps.”Are you sure?”

You only nod.

He shifts down, unbuttoning your jeans, and sliding them out from under your legs. He throws them on the floor. He parts your legs, resting his upper body between your legs. He doesn’t waste any time, as he licks a strip on your clothed clit.

“O-oh- oh my….” your fingers curl around his hair, and you push his mouth flush against your core.

He moans against your flesh, laying kitten licks against the sensitive skin. The friction tenses the knot in your stomach even more. Just when you think there’s nothing more he could do, you feel your insides being stretched as he pushes a finger into you. Your back arches at the sensation. He buries his finger knuckle deep,curling it and inside you and hitting that sweet spot. Broken moans and gasps cross your mouth, while your toes curl from all the pleasure.

Seconds tick by and turn into minutes which turns into hours and just like that the night flies by. You don’t know how many times you come undone under him, above him. You stopped counting after the second time because you weren’t even in a state where you could think about thinking anything.

You lay under the sheets facing each other--limbs entangled and noses almost touching. Every few seconds the tip of his nose touches yours as he moves in to kiss you, but then he stops.

“Stop being a tease” you pout at him.

He laughs, showing his pearly whites. His eyes crinkle at the corners just like they do when he’s happy. He leans in, to place a peck on your lips. Then he shifts his head up to kiss your forehead. Then gently, he places a tender kiss at the tip of your nose. He pulls your hand into his as he brings it to his lips, laying down gentle kisses on each knuckle.

“Who taught you how to be romantic?” you tease

“I’ve always been romantic” his gaze locks with yours, a gentle smile coming onto his lips.

“By the way what did you talk to Jimin about that day?” a sudden curiosity shifts the subject.

A look of realization crosses his face “Ah” he says. “I told him about you”

“So that’s why you were pissed” you chuckle.

“Pissed?” his brows crinkle together.

“You were jealous of course. You looked like you were going to kill him” a corner of your mouth lifts into a smirk.

“No. I wasn’t. That’s childish stuff. I just thought he should know that at that time you were kind of taken. Not really but you know…”

You tap his nose. “If you say so” You trace the outline of his face with your fingers. “Are you happy?” you whisper.

“More than I can tell you. Are you?” he licks his lips as his eyes flicker to yours.

“Mhmm” you nod. “Happiest I have ever been I think”

“Good” he kisses the back of your hand. “That’s all I want for you baby”

“I can’t believe you’re mine” you look into his eyes-- finding yourself falling in love all at once.

“You better believe it” his lips turn up at the corners into a grin. “I don’t know how much humans mean it when they say ‘forever’. But let me tell you us werewolves tend to take the stuff pretty seriously.”

You chuckle silently, huffing through your nose. “Your point being?”

“You better believe I am yours, because you’re forever y/n. Until my last breath”

THANK YOU IF YOU READ THIS! REBLOG, COMMENT, LIKE! 

[cacoetheswriting]

little mystery

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Warnings: tattoos, alcohol consumption, gambling/betting money, mild swearing (i actually don't think there is any but just in case), baby spence!!, no smut/or implied smut but it reads a little dirty (so i’m gonna rate this 18+ anyway) Word Count: 1.8k Summary: Bets are placed to see who can be the first to figure out the secret location of your tattoo, and what the tattoo is.

A/N: i was browsing pinterest for my next ink inspiration (the whole country is currently in lockdown, but a girl can dream), when i stumbled across a particular tattoo, featured in this fic, and this idea just came to me ah i hope you ENJOY!

 -

“A recent study concluded that people with tattoos are more likely to be so called experience seekers, and they tend to lean more towards rebellious, non-conforming lifestyles.” Spencer stated glancing between the group. His eyes lingering a little longer on you. “Research also shows, people who choose to get tattooed feel a stronger need to claim their identity and stand out from the crowd.”

Derek chuckled while taking a sip of his drink. “Kid, not everyone that has a tattoo is an attention seeker or a criminal. Many who get inked lead perfectly normal and stable lives.”

“It’s a form of self expression.” Morgan continued. “It doesn't necessarily mean people with multiple tattoos are wildings. I mean look at Y/N, she’s got like ten and she's far from a non-conformist.”

All heads turned in your direction.

“Ten is an over exaggeration Morgan.” You replied with a light giggle before looking directly at Spencer. “It’s eight. I have eight tattoos.” You said shooting him a smile. A mix of intrigue quickly spread across his features.

Of course, he was aware you had a couple of tattoos. Like the tiny heart on your left index finger. The crescent moon just above your right elbow. Or the rose on the inside of your left bicep. Given that the two of you were similar in age, the young doctor didn't think you would have that many.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s a huge difference.” He teased, granting Penelope to nudge him in the arm. The bubble blonde then turned to you. “You have eight tattoos?” She asked with a raised brow. “How come I didn't know this about you? I know everything.”

“Because you never asked me and eight really isn't that much. Plus they’re all pretty simple and dainty. Well... actually... all apart from the snake slithering between my boobs.” You responded nonchalantly causing the males at the table to simultaneously choke on their drinks.

The girls all whistled before erupting into laughter at the suddenly red faces of the three boys. Hotch stared silently at the half-empty class in his hands, Derek nervously cleared his throat, while Spencer gaped at you completely wide-eyed.

The image you just painted circulating in his mind.

“Don’t be shy, tell us, any other risqué body art?” Emily chimed once the laughter died down.

“Uhm, there is one but I really don't think it’s appropriate to share.” You answered, a sly smile circling your lips. JJ and Emily both groaned at your response. “Now you have too!” The blonde exclaimed, but you just shook your head.

“Only a handful of people know what it is, and where it is.” Your eyes locked briefly with the brunette doctor sat across from you. Not enough time for anyone at the table to notice, but enough to get him a tiny bit flustered.

“What if we guessed?” Emily enquired, her eyes sparkling mischievously. You giggled. “If one of you manages to guess both what and where it is, I will tell you whether you’re correct.”

“I want in on this little bet.” Derek chimed confidently. “I can get you talkin’ hot stuff.” He shot you a playful wink and took another sip of his drink. Hotch snickered next to him. “I wouldn't be so certain Morgan.” “Oh, and you think you can?” Derek asked sarcastically. “Maybe.” Hotch poised, shrugging his shoulders.

“Right.” JJ clapped her hands. “Let’s make this interesting. Everyone that wants to take part place a ten dollar bet on themselves, and the winner will take the pot.” She turned to you. “We’ll give you the money for safekeeping and once one of us guesses correctly, you can rightfully pass the cash onto that person.”

“Sounds good to me.” You replied with a grin. “But what if none of you guess? Who keeps the money then?” “Do you forget who you work with? We’re FBI agents, profilers, one of us is bound to figure it out.” Morgan stated making you giggle.

“Okay, if you say so.”

“Oh! And whoever wins gets to see this mysterious ink of yours.” Emily added teasingly.

Just like that a pile of cash formed in the middle of the table. You reached out to grab it when a hand slowly slid across with a neatly folded ten dollar bill between two fingers. Your eyes snapped up to meet the determined gaze of none other than the resident genius.

“I want to take part too.” He said, trying his best not to appear jittery. The grin currently embellishing your features swelled, and Spencer took note of the devilish sparkle in your eyes. “Well all right.” You responded, fingers brushing lightly against his as you retrieved the money. An instant spark tingled through both you and Spencer.

The night carried on. You were bombarded with questions that would give the team any sort of clue as to what the tattoo could be, but you didn't budge. It was a lot more fun seeing your friends struggle. The only person that didn't say anything further on the matter was the young doctor sat across from you. In true Spencer Reid fashion, he simply listened and observed.

About an hour later, he accompanied you to the bar for another round of drinks. After ordering for everyone, you quickly glanced at him. “What’s going on in that big brain of yours?” You asked causing him to break away from his thoughts and turn his attention to you. He lightly scrunched his nose.

“I’m just wondering when is the most appropriate time to tell everyone what your secret tattoo is.”

Your mouth parted ever in shock, eyes widened. “There is no way you know.”

“Actually, I not only know what and where it is. I also know when you got it and why.” He stated confidently.

“Alright then, tell me.” You challenged taking a step towards him. Spencer stiffened for a brief moment. Your sudden closeness caused the heat to rush to his face and his heart to skip a beat. All he could do was hope you didn't notice; which of course you did.

With a raised brow and your fingers tapping lightly on the wooden bar, you waited for Spencer to respond. You were about to say something like, ‘See, I knew you were bluffing.’, but he cleared his throat. Regaining his confidence.

“It’s the word ‘bite’ written in cursive on your ehm, on your left b-buttcheek. And you got it your freshmen year of university as a result of a drunken game of truth or dare with your friends. I believe it was either getting the tattoo or shaving your head.” He was, of course, correct. Every word.

You stared at him in disbelief. This you definitely did not expect. Spencer on the other hand seemed quite pleased with himself. It’s not often he’s the one to rattle you.

“H-how, how did you-” You shook your head. “You know what, never mind. I don’t want to know.” Your lips twirled into a smile. “Congratulations doctor.” Without really thinking, you leaned in closer and placed a soft kiss on his cheek causing once again for the blood to rush to his face. Once you pulled away, his hand immediately travelled to the spot.

“What, uhm, what was that for?” He asked and you shrugged. “An extra prize considering it didn't even take you ninety minutes to win. I hope that was okay?” He quickly nodded his head. “Ye-a, yes.” “Good.” And with that you kissed his cheek again.

He couldn't help but grin proudly as the two of you ambled back to the table, each holding a tray of drinks.

“What’s got you so happy, kid?” Morgan asked, drawing attention to Spencer’s expression.

“Spencer just won your little bet.” You replied, placing the tray down and reaching into your purse for the money. Although his win was definitely part of the reason for his increased good mood, it had more to do with the spot on his cheek that was still tingling from your kiss. But he’d never say that out loud.

Gasps of shock echoed through the team. “What?! There is no way he’s won already!” JJ exclaimed. “He cheated. Did you give him extra hints because you have a soft spot for him?” Emily accused, narrowing her eyes.

“Nope.” Your mouth popped. “He definitely won fair and square.” You stated before shifting your body weight to look the young doctor. Smiling, you handed him his winnings. He didn't hesitate to take them, eyes never leaving yours.

“Well pretty boy, what is it?!” Derek enquired eagerly. Spencer waited for you to nod your head before turning to address the team. He revealed the design and location of your secret tattoo in one breath as you watched, finding their reactions amusing.

“How did you figure that out?” Penelope asked.

“A little mystery never hurt.” You chimed before Spencer got a chance to respond, and proceeded to intertwine your fingers with his. His head snapped first down at your glued hands, and then up at your face. He wanted to ask what was happening, completely forgetting what else the winning prize entailed, as you were leading him away from the table.

Morgan and Emily whistled after the two of you, the rest of the group laughing.

It wasn't until you were walking into the bathroom, locking the door behind, that the realisation hit Spencer. He swallowed his breath and opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

You quickly noticed the nervous look on his face. “We don't have to do this if you don't want to. If you’re uncomfortable.” You said in your usual kind and caring tone.

“No, uhm, it’s okay. B-but if you don't want to?” He mumbled. “I don’t have to see it if you don’t want to show me, or anyone for that matter. We can just pretend.”

You smiled at him, your hands travelling to the zipper of your jeans. “A bet’s a bet, and like I said, you won fair and square.”

“Y-you, are you sure you don't want to know how I figured it out?” Spencer asked, voice breaking. The palms of his hands began to sweat. He wasn't sure where to look. Did you want him looking directly at you? Or was he supposed to keep his attention on something else until you were ready to show the tattoo?

“A little mystery never hurt.” You repeated what you said earlier to the group and pulled your pants down, just low enough to display the tattoo in question.

Spencer’s gaze landed on the writing. At this point his heart was hammering inside of his chest, and he was sure it would explode any second. His eyes widened as he slowly licked his lips. He was sure this was the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

“Do you like it?” A seemingly innocent question, although the intention behind it was anything but.

Spencer nodded his head. “I-I...y-es, I do.” His eyes gradually moved up your body until they once again locked with your gaze. His pupils now flared.

A mischievous smirk escaped your mouth. “I always knew you had a naughty side, doctor.”

-

spencer reid taglist: spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​​, @averyhotchner

masterlist

[inkedtae]

a brew of wings ⇾ myg. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ dragon!yoongi x witch!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾  daechwita inspired, fantasy, magic realism, smut, fluff, angst-ish, hybrid au, shifter au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾  your tiny tea shop is the perfect front for harbouring hybrid fugitives

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 10.3k 

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ mentions of violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of captivity, mentions of death, hard dom!yoongi, lip piercing!yoongi, big dicc!yoongi, tattooed!yoongi, sub!reader, tea shop owner!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), rough sex, a lil dirty talk, pet names, daddy kink, oral (m. receiving), multiple orgasms, begging, teasing, spanking, a lil choking, spit play, breath play

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ happy halloween!! speical thanks to selene (@jksangelic​) for helping me out a bit with logisitics!!! enjoy :)

♕ This is dedicated to @kkulmoon​. My bestest soulmate!!!

♕ banner/border by ⇾ @suqakoo (jiji is wonderful and deserves all the love and this is a beautiful banner)

♕ beta’d by ⇾ @nottodayjjk (a hundred kisses and thanks to this gems for always being there for me~~)

♕ le playlist 

In the humble village of Daegu, sandwiched between a blacksmith and mechanic, a tiny tea shop lives - exactly where Namjoon said it would be. But, not at all like his mother had described all those years ago. Technology has bled into every corner of her once little world. Yoongi wonders if she would still recognize it as he watches customers filter in and out from under his wickered hat.  The tea shop seems all too busy to resemble anything close to a hybrid asylum, but Namjoon was specific. Perhaps Yoongi shouldn’t trust knights of the king. Most have a reputation for hybrid mistreatment. However, there isn’t much logic in letting Yoongi run so far only to be captured in an obscure tea shop. And besides, Namjoon is a friend. Perhaps the closest he’d encountered in a long while.

“She’s going to scold you.”

“Nix loves me too much to scold me.”

Nix. The familiar name redirects Yoongi’s attention to the two men walking by him. The taller one, with features so symmetrical they almost seem unreal, rests a fishing pole over his shoulder. The shorter one, with the sharper tongue, carries a bag that clatters with glass. They enter the shop causally tossing curses at each other. Yoongi reaches into his pocket, unfolding the little piece of parchment Namjoon ripped to scribble on. 

utopia, nix, huckleberry lemon on ice.

One glance up at the flickering neon sign above the storefront attempts to spell Teatopia, but the first strokes of light seem to be dead. Instead, it glows atopia. Tremors of the midnight train suddenly resonate around the evening market. All lights flicker and dishes clatter, though the villagers' conversations carry on. Their affairs remain uninterrupted, eyes focused only on each other. Yoongi clenches his fists and digs his feet into the ground to steady himself until the train finally passes. When he glances back up at the neon sign, parts of the first ‘a’ flicker out to read utopia. 

Rolling his shoulders back, Yoongi bears his fangs behind sealed lips, as a precaution, then pushes the door open. A bell chimes. Patrons sit around velvet draped tables. They engage in  lively conversations, breaking steamed buns together and sipping on all sorts of tea. But, it’s the steady crackles of the fireplace that pique Yoongi’s interest. The amber embers beneath the flames soothe the heaviness upon his chest. One breathful of floral smoke, and he sinks into comfort.

That is until a black cat purrs down by his feet. Yoongi snaps his gaze down to find it circling between his legs then prancing off behind the counter. The two men bickering outside sit at the bar in front of a woman looking more unimpressed the longer they speak. Yoongi retracts his fangs, eyes fixated on the way your brows dance with annoyance. And that dress. He doesn’t care much for fashion but you seem to wear it differently, simply. Most people, much like him, travel with layers. Only a black dress clothes you, sleeves flourishing at your wrists and laces around your cleavage. Though, he really shouldn’t let his eyes wander.

Yoongi ignores the heat rushing to his cheeks as he approaches the counter. The black cat sits by the one-eyed register. Its tail swirls and emerald eyes remain on him. He tentatively takes a seat by a sleeping old man, a couple seats away from the arguing men. 

“Nixy,” the shorter one smirks. “You wouldn’t scold me, right.”

You, Nix it would seem, cross your arms under your chest. You hold a blank expression until the taller one sighs and grumbles, “He stopped for a pack of stray dogs.”

“Jin! You promis- He purposely mislead us to fish for a couple of hours!” 

Jin gasps then nudges his friend. “Guk, I swear I’ll kill you.” 

Guk scoffs, returning the shove. He stands from his seat and attempts to tower over Jin, only to get a hand slice to the neck. A quick exchange of smacking hands breaks out between the two, the sleeping old man beside Yoongi suddenly wide awake. 

“Land one in the gut!” He shouts.

Yoongi winces at the volume. He mutters a curse under his breath before his annoyed gaze meets yours. You watch him for a beat, two, three, then blink your attention back to Jin and Guk. A wave of your hand separates them with a slide back. Frustration still rages in their gazes. Yoongi holds his breath, diverting his gaze to the floor. Recognizing rage in others often triggers his hybridity. The dragon tickles in his palms as thick, black talons replace his nails. Yoongi shoves his hands in his pockets, eyes shifty, breath heavy. 

You bite your lip. Jin and Guk fall silent, their words cinching in their throats. “I don’t want to have to send Apolla to babysit you,” you sigh. The black cat purrs in hiccups, as if laughing. You let a smirk grace your lips, continuing, “This next batch needs to be delivered on time.” 

With a twirl of your finger, glass vials, now filled to the brim with multi-coloured herbs, float back into Guk’s bag. You, then, beckon the pouty men closer. They shuffle towards the counter. You tug two tiny crystal pendants from your charm bracelet and pin one on each of their sleeves. “These should help you stick to your path,” you mutter. “Soak them in saltwater once all the orders are complete.” 

Though they roll their eyes, both men nod in understanding. Guk offers an innocent smile, Jin a playful one, before turning to the door. Whatever spell you had over their voices seems to wear off by the time they exit. “Little punk,” are Jin’s final words. 

Yoongi’s hands clam with sweat as his talons retract under the cover of his pockets. He sighs heavily. Gaze shaking behind his short hair, he shifts in his seat. The old man’s snoring returns sinking in with the crackling fireplace seamlessly. Yoongi wishes he had this man’s freedom. The ability to fall in and out of sleep in a public place without fearing for his safety. Is it his identity or the shop that makes him feel this secure? 

“What can I get you?” 

He flinches. Meeting your curious gaze, he mutters, “Huckleberry lemon.” 

“Infused or blended?” 

Momentary panic flashes in his eyes. If you notice, you don’t make it known. “On ice.” 

The action is quiet, subtle, but Yoongi hears it clearly. Your breath hitches. You swallow thickly, looking him over once, twice, then ask, “On or in?”

“On.”

You wave a hand. The lights of the shop flicker out, candles taking their place. Yoongi shoots to his feet, talons and fangs returning. His temples suddenly ache where his horns should be. Oh yes, Yoongi remembers, Horns surface in defense too. Setting his jaw, he ignores whatever sentiment scratches at his throat and whips his gaze around the store, searching for the first attack. However, he merely finds the patrons preparing to leave. They seem all too familiar with the switch between electric to flame. A few of them even mutter curses under their breath. 

The old man stretches by Yoongi, to which he flinches. “Another rogue broomstick?” He asks you. 

“A mop,” you correct before tugging on your ear. A loud clattering boom sounds from the closest by the end of the counter. Yoongi jumps back, looking to you for an answer. You avoid his gaze. 

The customers bid you a goodnight. You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. They swim with panic instead. Yoongi perks his ears towards you, instantly picking up the quick beat of your heart. It’s hammering, blood sprinting around its cycle within your veins. He glances down at your hands. Your nails have scratched their way to the edge of the wooden counter, knuckles tense as you grip onto it.

Once all the customers have left, you circle around the counter and ask, “Is Namjoon okay? What happened?”

Yoongi stumbles back, eager to create distance amongst you. “Yeah, he’s fine. He told me you’ll find me a place to stay.” 

“Where is he?”

“Seoul.”

You pause. Not a single breath dares escape you as you assess his word. Yoongi raises a brow. What exactly is your connection to Namjoon, he wonders. You went out of your way to find out as quickly as possible if anything was wrong. He licks his lips when realization finally colours your features. A bitter curse slips past your maroon lips. Without another word, you rush back around the counter and begin scribbling onto a loose piece of parchment. You roll it up once you’re done. “Apolla,” you call. The black cat leaps from counter top to top, landing by you effortlessly. You slip the note into her collar and whisper, “Make sure they read it and seriously consider it before leaving to the next, okay?” 

Apolla meows, rubs her head in your hand then jumps off the counter. Yoongi peers over the counter to see where she’s gone, but he can’t spot her anywhere in the candle lit darkness. 

“Do you have the note he gave you?” 

Yoongi snaps his attention back to you. Your back faces him again. He digs into his pocket and pulls out the tiny piece of parchment. You pluck it right out of his hand and roll it up with your own note then whistle a high melody. Distant hoots grow louder behind him. He looks to the door as it opens on its own accord. A black owl swoops into the shop. You tie the message to its left leg, offer the owl what looks like a rat tail, then send it off. The door shuts the moment it's gone, locks clicking. 

Finally turning to Yoongi, you tip your finger up and his hat falls to his back. Yoongi glares. Your sporadic writings and dismissals might have been interesting at first, but now he’s looking for answers. How is this witch supposed to help him? Namjoon promised he’d be safe here and, though the shop feels secure, you do not. 

“Agust Dragon,” you whisper.

Yoongi furrows his brows. His gaze shifts to the draped windows and locked doors. Who told you of his arrival? Perhaps this was a trap. Was it to see how far he could get, to have this entire little town witness his defeat? The cruelty of the king does not know restraint. If anyone was to lead him back to his mother’s village to further humiliate him, it would be the king. Yoongi rolls his shoulder back, inhaling deeply as his talons surface once more. Taking a step back, he asks, “How do you know that? He didn’t write that in the note.”

Your eyes glow with concern. Had Yoongi not been fixating on every change, he wouldn’t have caught the underlying tone of your gaze. It’s almost as if you’re questioning just how much he knows. You wave a hand at the radio. Through the speakers, a robotic voice informs, We interrupt your scheduled programming to alert a hybrid breach in Seoul. Agust Dragon has escaped royal captivity. All-

With another wave, it switches back off. “It goes on for a while about your scar too,” you add. 

Tremors of the taser used to detain him flash within his veins. The glint of that pearl sword blinds him with the haunting pain. Between those stone walls, he fully transformed. Had he known it would be the last time, he would’ve spread his wings wide, tipped his head to the sky and bellowed a cloud of fire. Within the smug, he’d inhale deeply and do it all over again. Perhaps he would’ve escaped then. Perhaps he would’ve endured more scars. At least, Yoongi thinks, I would still be a dragon.  

The clatter of dishes pulls him out of his thoughts. He blinks his attention back to where you stood, only to find you mixing something in a black caludon. Jars of various contents hover around you, some peaking at the mixture over your shoulder. Yoongi watches you move further in the kitchen behind the counter like you’re floating yourself. Movements so swift, sharp, susintically enchanting, he can’t take his eyes off you no matter how hard he tries. Your power is an outlaw to nature yet looks so natural. Is it a charm of who you are or who you’ve become?

“I’m not sure what’s nourishing for a dragon,” you say over your shoulder. “I try to adjust the glamour to the hybrid. There isn’t much about dragons.”

“Yet.”

The speed of your gaze to his soul makes him shiver. You don’t regard him with hostility, but something much worse: curiosity. The very bane of his existence. Only, hints of concern cushion the blow of this realization. Yoongi can sense your intentions in the way you calculate your words. You explained what you’re working on without prompting. You ensure he knows you’re here to help by mentioning nutrients rather than sedatives. Yoogni may not know you, but he knows Namjoon well enough to know that if he trusts you enough with this information, then you might not be as big a threat as your curiosity is. 

You return to the counter with a red and gold patterned teapot. The colours swirl around a white base in slithering motions. Yoongi assumes it’s a simple meld of lines until he makes out the bold eyes of a dragon. Shooting you a glare, he asks, “Is this a joke?” 

The smirk on your face does not comfort his annoyance. Whether or not you recognize this, is hard for Yoongi to tell. There’s something painfully unreadable in your eyes. You never regard him with pity, even if he knows his face is bruised, clothes dirty and hair smells all too strong to ignore. Something else laces your looks that soothes and riles him all at once. 

“It’s charmed to reflect your greatest desire,” you explain. 

Yoongi pauses, looking down at the teapot again. The wings of the dragon flap then spread wide, like gliding over the winds. He blinks back his frustrations, reverting his attention to the flower painted cup in your hands. Regret pricks his heart, his conscious scolding his tongue for lashing out all too quickly. Just because he can’t completely trust you, doesn’t particularly mean you don’t have pure intentions regardless. 

He clears his throat and mutters, “Sorry.”

After pouring dark violet tea into the cup, Yoongi watches as you squeeze a bit of honey in. You shrug his apology off while giving the tea a good stir. Sliding the cup towards him, you tentatively search his gaze and ask, “So, what did you see?”

Yoongi ignores the question. He keeps his attention focused on the tea, bracing himself before that first, initial sip. The moment the spice soaked chia touches his lips, he is thrown into a euphoric tranquility. Notes of cinnamon, ginger, anise stars and peppercorn evade his senses. His body voluntarily melts into the warm comfort spreading within. And that little bit of honey you added, offers just the right amount of sweetness, and that’s not something Yoongi particularly cares for. 

It takes pulling the cup away from his mouth for him to realize he’d drank it all. Face warm, he glances up at you. He’d never really met a witch before, merely seen them around. He doesn’t remember his mother mentioning any in Daegu when she resided here. They seemed to flock around Ilsan, near the wooded mountains. It’s rather common knowledge that the closer they are to nature, the stronger they become. Their strength usually also manifests greaty in covens. So, why is this one alone? 

Wiping his mouth, Yoongi holds the cup out. He may not completely understand your motives, but that tea is too warm to turn down. You smile and refill it. He takes another sip, removing the cup from his face so as to not to chug it all at again. You pick up on his actions and quietly giggle to yourself. Yoongi bites back a smile. Maybe it’s the tea, but he finds something about your laugh that’s all too pleasing. It feels familiar, a little sentimental, and profoundly personal. 

“What’s your name?”

He raises a brow. Was Agust not enough for you? Or do you know that it isn’t who he really is? “How did you-”

“You look like the cautionary type,” you interrupt. “The type to bear his fangs and talons on the slight chance that danger is just around the corner. So, I would assume you didn’t tell whoever caught you your real name.” 

And he thought he hid that so well. You’re smarter than he expected you to be. Or perhaps, more accurately, you’re more perceptive than expected. The longer he remains in your presence, the more he realizes he has completely underestimated you. Originally, you were just some middle maiden, redirecting lost hybrids upon a knight’s command. Now, Yoongi is starting to wonder if perhaps you’re the one in command. However, if you can sway knights of the king, why wouldn’t you use that power for something greater than relocating refuge hybrids? Why not destroy the system all together? 

Either way, your potential summons a ghost of smirk to his lips. “And why should I tell you?” His tone is almost teasing, but simply because Yoongi is curious now. How much attention are you offering?

You rest elbows on the counter and lean on your chin in your hands while trying to hide a smile. “I’m (Y/N).”

In a reactive loop, he mentally repeats your name until it’s seared into his brain. His dragon hums in approval, like it was expecting it, expecting you. Yoongi presses on. “What’s the point of Nix then?”

“A coven name burns into your soul,” you whisper. “Much like a dragon does when born.”

“I thought you said you don’t know much about dragons.”

You smile, rolling your eyes like he’s the one being tested. Sitting up, you turn back to the kitchen and ask, “Have you eaten?”

Yoongi barely parts his lips before you cut in again and call over your shoulder, “Or would you rather get washed up first? Hmm, that might be best. Finish your tea and I’ll show you to the bath.”

A snap of your fingers and the kitchen comes alive. You shut the curtains into the back, but Yoongi makes out the charmed sponges and dishes being cleaned. The closest that clattered not to long ago, opens just enough for a broom and mop to waddle out. They rush to the back, the mop bumping into the broom. For a moment, the two nudge each other back and forth, until your echoing steps scare them into continuing on their path to the kitchen. They slip between the curtains. 

In near silence, Yoongi sits alone in the shop. The distant spray of the sink only just breaks the hearth’s crackling concentration. Every sip of tea settles the fuming dragon. It’s something about the spicy kick and earthy tones of mint - at least he thinks it’s mint. He wonders what gives it this violet colour. Is it the magic? Is it you?

It’s rather odd, now that he thinks about it. Three days of travel, of near survival only to find solstice in a cup of tea. Perhaps that’s the true magic you offer. A sense of peace is a sip away? Or maybe it’s the lack of concrete walls and iron chains. His mother would enjoy this tea. His father would look forward to the food. But Yoongi craves the steam of a bath, the warmth of a pillow. And the dragon within yearns for your presence. If Yoongi wasn’t so sunk in tranquility, he’d search for a reason. Alas, he cannot be bothered. 

“You ready?” 

The chime of your voice snaps his gaze away from the teapot. Yoongi glances down at his cup to find it empty again. Why can’t he every savour the taste? 

With a nod, he hops off the stool. “How far is it?”

You toss him a confused look. Nodding towards the right, you reply with a chuckle, “Just a couple of steps.”

The teapot and cup hop off the counter and into the kitchen as Yoongi watches you disappear down a hallway. You return with a half-smile, regarding him as if he’s the strange one, enchanting dishes and speaking in half-truths. 

“Well, come on!”

A sharp retort sits on the tip of his tongue. Yoongi swallows it before it can cause more damage than necessary. Orders don’t resonate too well with the dragon. It burns his throat with disobedience. There is a better way to do things: his way. He doesn’t particularly like being forced into another. Still, he follows in silence. 

You lead him to the tiny office that looks more disorganized than anything else. Layers of loose parchment and letters bury a mahogany desk. Dried wax, leaked from overused candles, splatters over every surface. Blankets atop a sapphire and opal patterned carpet lay in disarray. You bend over in front of him, his face reddening and eyes shooting to the ceiling, to find cobwebs and burned lights tangled around the beams. With a grunt, you flip up the carpet and a little hatch appears. A stomp, two, three and it clicks open. A dark staircase makes itself known. 

“After you,” you smile. 

Yoongi furrows his brows. Are you insane or simply numb to your own oddities? He’s having a hard time deciding when you flash him such an innocent smile. Glancing back at the dark staircase, even his dragon begins to question your sanity. “You want me to enter this basement first? The hidden, dark basement?”

It takes a moment but his point finally dawns on you. Brows shooting up, you let out a nervous giggle and decide to enter first. “It’s not a basement,” is all you offer as a means of comfort. Or at least that’s what he thinks you say. You’re about halfway down before saying anything at all, voice distant and echoing. 

Where else can he go, he wonders. It would be hard to find a hidden place after being spotted in the town. He doesn’t even know the terrain that well and there isn’t just some tree he can climb or cave to scurry into. You’re unfortunately his last hope for safety. Perhaps you just have a skewed version of it. Yoongi just hopes it's not as skewed as the king’s. 

Against his cautionary judgement, he descends. Each step beckons him closer to warmth, a reality he wasn’t expecting. An orange hue dances against the stone walls as he reaches the last few steps of the spiral staircase. 

You’re right. Again. It’s not at all a basement, but a home. Yoongi inherits the serenity, familiarity and security the moment he arrives. Book shelves galore, candles a plenty and belevenance at every glance. You move around the living room with a pillow and a stack of blankets. Dropping by the foot of the emerald couch, your attention falls back to Yoongi. In his dirty clothes and unwashed hair, he feels so out of place from the purity your home radiates. 

“The bathroom is just down that hall,” you say, pointing to one of five hallways on the right side. 

You’re odd. Yoongi didn’t think that would be something he’d respond to. He nods as a thanks, ignoring the way your generosity strokes his heart. Perhaps, he wonders while shuffling down the hall, humans are wretched. And witches, the so-called horrors of horror, are benignant. Or, it could just be that you are. Either way, Yoongi has witnessed something tonight that he hadn’t in a long time. Acceptance. 

He spares you one last glance, hand hovering over the brass doorknob. You’re holding a wand and attempting to transform the couch into a bed. The dragon reminds him that you don’t know him, where he comes from, how long he’d traveled, or what he’d done to be chained. All you know is a friend sent him here and his hybridity makes him undesirable. Such a luxury, the dragon whispers, to trust and be trusted. 

Agust doesn’t like to talk about himself. You learned this quickly. After the first night, you tried to pry again. Who else escaped? How long had he known Namjoon? Any chance he’ll be offering that name now? But, he won’t budge. Sometimes, when he’s tired of all your questions, he’d walk away. The excuse is usually that he’s looking for a book, but you haven’t seen him pick up anything besides an anthology of flight. You decided to give up all together, not daring to ask the real question on your mind, like how he got that scar. 

Other times, however, he’ll turn the questions onto you. Maintaining eye contact, he’d listen to each answer and engage in a little conversation about each point. Three weeks have elapsed, and you still have yet to decide if this is part of his diverting tactic or if he’s genuinely interested. In both cases, it’s good to know that he’s willing to have a conversation about something. 

It’s also reassuring to find that he’s adapted to your routine seamlessly. He mentioned something about wanting to help out around the shop his third morning in Daegu. The look on his face was too precious to deny. Curious, unsure, tentative, he muttered the question like it meant everything and nothing to him all at once. You were wondering if he knew that Apolla still hadn’t returned with news then, but now you’re sure. He glances at her food bowl every morning, as if looking for signs of her presence. 

Three weeks is the longest she’d ever looked for a safehouse. You expected that not many people would want to harbour a known fugitive, but hoped that someone would. Most hosts recognize the danger of associating with a hybrid. The consequences are the same - execution. Perhaps risks run higher when a face is attached to a name and continuously circling the news. 

Your greatest regret, however, is how relieved you are that he won’t be leaving. Sure, Agust is stand-offish and too blunt at times, but there’s just something about him that reels you in. The rasp of his voice, the indifferent wonder in his eyes, how he walks like he rather be flying is endearing. He almost floats with determined desolation, like he digs the very hole he’s in to get out. The deeper he is, the stronger he becomes. You’re not sure if you find that admirable, but it’s something merely Agust-esque. 

He leans on the counter now, reading that same anthology again. You’re sure this is his fourth time through it. He still soaks in every word and takes his time with each page. A customer approaches the counter with a bright smile. You stop cleaning one of the tables to watch Agust deliberately ignore him. Being a dragon, he can sense when someone is near and how they might be feeling.You know this from the stories your coven would trade. Dragons, being a rarity, are something like gods to witches; you haven’t really met one before Agust. 

“Good evening,” the customer greets. He hops onto one of the stools as Agust ignores him. His smile wavers. “S-sir?”

“Shh.”

The customer blinks. He looks around as if wondering if he’d really just been shushed. “I would-”

“Shh.” 

You sigh, muttering a quiet plea to the gods under your breath. Then, you catch it, the smirk plaything on Agust’s lips. It’s so tiny, hidden behind an annoyed persona, that if you hadn't been paying such close attention you would’ve missed it. He’s not ignoring the customer to gain a reaction out of them, but out of you. And for some odd reason, that makes your heart skip a beat. 

Agust flips the page then finally acknowledges the customer. An amused look holds his features as the customer stutters their order. “Orange basil?” He questions, hints of disgust drenched in his tone. Before the man can part his lips to reply, Agust sighs and shrugs. He looks at you, and raises a brow. It’s rather teasing, silently asking why you’re staring. 

After wiping your hands, you carry the tray of teacups and little teapots back to the counter. The magic takes over once you stand by Agust. He follows your every movement, eyes lingering on the sway of your hips for a few seconds too long. 

“Jimin,” you greet, ignoring Agust like he had done to the customer. 

He picks up on your actions quickly, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “Suck up,” he whispers. 

“Is he supposed to be behind the counter?” Jimin asks. He avoids Agust’s gaze, knowing his question would earn him a glare. 

“Not with an attitude,” you reply with a bright smile. 

Agust rolls his eyes, prepared to chuckle until he hears Jimin laugh. He sighs as if the daily customer is intruding. Within seconds, his interest in the conversation falls. That cursed anthology consumes his attention all over again. 

You mask your disappointment with business, turning to the kitchen. The caldron already heard the order and began it’s brew just as you have enchanted it to do. Agust knows this. He’s watched you recharm the pots every morning. And every time you run back here, you know he notices. Sometimes you can feel his eyes following you when you walk away from him. There’s a faint pull in his gaze, like he’s pleading for your return to his side. At times, you find yourself longing after him too when he’s in such close but distant proximity. 

A quiet hoot shatters all your thoughts. You rush back to the counter in time to find the door burst open and Grako swoon in. Agust already had his gaze locked on the glass, his inner dragon probably having picked up the thumping flaps of feather in the wind. 

Some customers gasp and duck agains their tables. You ignore their confused stares, knowing they’ll chalk this up to one of your strange quirks. Grako lands on the counter, scaring Jimin enough to make him jump out of his seat. Agust enjoys the sight a little too much. 

“Can you get the seeds by the sink for me?” You ask Agust, hoping to grant Jimin a moment without ridicule. Without a word, he makes his way to the kitchen. 

You fight every instinct to follow after his frame and focus on the owl. Searching for Namjoon’s reply, your heart sinks when you don’t find parchment on the left leg. Your message looks untouched on the right. Untying the string holding it together, you unroll the parchment to find the unchanged message. 

Agust sets the sealed bag of seeds on the counter. Grako turns to face him. You do your best to suppress a shaky sigh, but Agust hears it anyways. He ignores the owl eyeballing him and shifts closer to you. The action surprises you enough to distract from your worries. Agust never cared for less distance. Yet, he stands close enough to feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” He mutters.

Though you want to tell him, you know now is not at all the right time. One too many pairs of eyes lock on you, various ears perking in your direction. You force a smile and shake your head. “Nothing at all,” you reply in the steadiest voice you can muster. 

He nods. He doesn’t believe it, but nods. “How often do your charms work?” 

You raise a brow. “Often.”

“So are the sponges supposed to wring sink water all over the floor?”

Agust is clever. You never doubted this. He’s perspicacious, calculating and above all downright angelic. However, you try not to let that last detail overtake you too much. It’s just that pierced lip and dark tattoo peeking from under his tunic stun you from time to time. The messy hair, undercut and dark, and that scar that lure you more than they should. It’s all too pure to be so rough, much like his personality. 

No, wait, you’ve gotten ahead of yourself again. Agust is clever - yes. He knows just how to get his way with you every time. Anything he wants, you usually offer. His reference of rogue cleaning supplies is just one example of his advantageous perception. Tugging on your ear, you sent the sponges acraze around the kitchen. A cacophony of broken dishes and spilled cauldrons echo throughout the shop. You wonder if you tugged too hard or perhaps used a stronger spell than intended. Did you even recharm the sponges or the entire kitchen? 

All conversation halts to the loud mess transpiring behind the curtain. Agust nudges your elbow, reminding you of the switch to flames when enchantments “malfunction.” You mutter a quiet, oh then wave a trembling hand to the ceiling. The lights flicker a few times before the half-hearted spell finally works. 

“But-” Jimin tries to say only to have Agust hush him again with a finger upon his lips. Jimin sighs, following the rest of the customers out. 

Agust waits for the doors to lock before fully facing you. “So?”

You’re not sure what Agust’s relationship was with Namjoon. You always assumed it was closer enough to trust, but how close is that for Agust? Did Namjoon know his real name? The last thing you want to do is sadden him with your assumptions about your best friend’s silence. However, as you part your lips to lie, you find you are simply incapable of the action when it comes to Agust. It’s not just that he will automatically catch on, but that the act itself dries your mouth. It would feel awkward to lie, perhaps even disgusting. 

“He didn’t reply.”

“It’s been gone for a month.”

“I know.”

He searches your eyes. Fingertips hovering near yours, he inhales half a breath. “Maybe he went back to Ilsan?”

Namjoon told him about Ilsan? Your heart festers with jealousy, regrettably towards Namjoon. If Agust knows of Ilsan, then Namjoon must know his real name. The fact that you didn't mention a name at all in your note might have tipped him against replying. You know Namjoon well enough to know he would take the safest option. Is that where Agust picked up his cautionary habit? No, you mustn’t entertain this petty frustration. So what if Namjoon is closer to Agust than you are? They probably spent more time together too. Another wave of annoyance attacks your chest. That possibility seems to irk you more than soothe you as it was meant to.

Sliding the piece of parchment and a pen towards him, you mutter, “Write your name. The one he’d know.” 

Agust pauses. You don’t spare him a second glance. It’s childish, you know, but you can't help but be a bit peeved with him. Your mind is actively reminding you that Agust and Namjoon are their own people and do not need to have a smaller relationship than you and Agust do. Your heart can’t shut up about it though. It invades your thoughts with questions that attack your insecurities. Have you been too nice? Too mean? Too lazy with your magic or too powerful? Is he intimidated or simply more comfortable around men than he is around women? Feeding Grako from the seeds in your palm, you clench your jaw and attempt to purge these thoughts from your mind. 

Doubt is poisonous. You wish you had an anecdote for this sort of suffering. 

“I don’t want to.”

“Well, he doesn’t believe you’re really here,” you all but snap. “So either scribble the stupid name or let him die.” 

Your drama makes you cringe. Being too aware of your stupidity in the moment might just be the very worse detail about this cursed conversation. 

Agust scoffs. Inching closer, he towers over you. Jaw set, eyes dark with amber rage, he whispers, “You’ll refrain from using such a tone with me if you know what’s good for you.” His calloused fingers trace the outline of your face, as he continues, “I don’t want to warn you again.”

You shudder against his frame. Gulping, you muster whatever courage you have left and mutter, “You’ll refrain from using such threats with me.” You take his hand in yours and squeeze gently, letting your magic tickle his bloodstream. He shivers as those black talons reappear. You feel their impression against your wrist. “If you know what’s good for you,” you finish. 

Agust waits, watches. Adam’s apple bobbing, he nods once. His attention returns to the parchment. He scratches his name, blows it dry, then rolls it up like you had weeks ago. You tie the note to the right leg again. You hope your assumption is correct as you secure the knot. After tossing Grako a rat tail, to which he effortlessly catches, you send him off again. This time he is Ilsan bound. 

“Who is Namjoon to you?” Agust asks once the doors lock shut again. 

You wave a hand to the kitchen to fix whatever disarray you accidentally set it to then answer the question with one of your own. “Who are you to him?”

“A friend.” 

You weren’t really expecting an answer. He usually sulks when you toss a question back at him. So, you begin to wonder, why did he answer this one? What is so important about your answer this time? 

“A best friend,” you smirk. 

He rolls his eyes. “Does getting on my nerves fascinate you?” 

You shrug. “Usually.” 

“Just answer the question.”

“I did.”

He sighs and you mock it, earning a pointed look. “Did you meet in Ilsan?”

“Yeah. We grew up together,” you answer. Though you love to tease him, you can never keep it up for too long. You always end up giving into him at some point. “We were neighbours. The coven didn’t really like him lurking around me though.” 

“Was this his idea?”

You raise a brow. “I thought you were friends?”

“You’re enchanting,” he suddenly blurts. 

When your face falls in shock, his cheeks heat up. His words seem as though they are registering for the first time. How enchanting are you exactly?

“What I mean is,” he tries again. “You have the tendency to get your way from anyone you’d like. Jin and Guk have made all glamour deliveries on time, Namjoon rounds up hybrids for you to relocate all over the kingdom, and you recruit every animal you find.” 

“Not every animal,” you playfully pout. “Just the useful ones.”

Agust rolls his eyes. Accepting defeat, he shuts his book and tucks it under his arm. For a second, you think he’s about to say something. But, he merely licks his lips and avoids your gaze. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s upset with you. 

Later, during dinner, you start to believe your assumptions. Agust seems to focus on everything but you. The beef stew, garlic buns, kimchi, ginseng tea, even pulling out that stupid book again. Never has he opened those pages at the table, always offering you at least sliver of attention. Maybe you have no right for feeling this way, but his disregard for you twinges your pride. 

“Is there a reason you’re staring?”

And that tone. You’ve grown rather sick of it, frankly. He sulks around the house, around the shop and grumbles half-hearted insults. Though you know they’re usually playful, you can’t ignore the festing frustration in your chest.

His eyes gleam with the dragon within. “We both know I can sense your anger.” 

“Shut the book.”

“No.”

You raise a brow, silently suggesting a possible source to your anger.  Agust shuts the book. 

“Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” you sarcastically smile. 

He stares for a moment then shakes his head. “I’m not sure why you’re so angry,” he says while picking up his plate. 

You charm it right out of his hands as he stands from his seat. He glares. You return it. When he reaches for his cup, you wave a hand at it as well. Both dishes hover to the sink. The game carries on until all the dishes float back to the kitchen. You toss a mocking smirk and ask, “Enough flying for you?”

“What do you have against flying?” 

It has your attention. “Nothing.” 

“You’re a terrible liar. How you’ve gotten away with all this hybrid hiding all these ears is beyond me.”

You quirk your head to the side. So he knows this operation has been years in the making. Then what was all that questioning about? 

“If you have something to say, then say it,” he baits after taking his seat. He almost sounds like he doesn’t think you will. He should know you better by now. 

You stand up and circle the table. Leaning against the edge, towering over him, you cross your arms under your chest and disregard all filters. “How did you escape?” 

He scoffs. “Namjoon helped me.”

“Yes, but how?”

A certain darkness falls over his features. He gulps before letting out a shaky sigh. “He was guarding my quarters. We spoke often.” Then he falls silent, eyes reverting to the floor. A moment elapses, two, three, by the fifth he takes another deep breath. “My last night was hard. He told me that he was working on permanent relaction in Ilsan. Something about how the mountains are safest. But after that night, I don’t think he was willing to wait for the right moment anymore.” 

So, that’s how he knew of Ilsan. Shame settles over you in heavy waves. You avoid his eye in regret. Even after that, you know you shouldn’t pry. But you continue to ask anyways. “What happened?”

He glances at the anthology. “They took my horns,” he mutters so indifferently you think it’s a joke. Still, you don’t dare laugh. Not when his face is riddled with embarrassment and disgrace. 

“Then, I was forced into a full transformation,” he continues. “And clipped.”

You gasp. He lets out a breathy chuckle. “Don’t be so dramatic, (Y/N).”

How can he be so lighthearted? No- you mustn’t question his ways of coping. Regret engulfs you as you look to the stupid book again. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been so pushy about it. You’ve heard rumors in the coven, about clipped dragons. You just didn’t think anyone would ever succumb to such cruelty. 

“I won’t tell you things if you’re just gonna cry about it,” he grumbles. 

You’re crying? Rubbing your hands against your cheeks, you’re surprised to find them wet. “Sorry,” you chuckle. “I just can’t believe they really-” 

“So this wasn’t your idea then?”

Shifting closer to him, you wipe away all your tears and shake your head. “Namjoon found me the day I opened. I told him in a letter that I’ve borrowed a home under the shop. A couple of hobbits told me about it on the train from Ilsan.” 

His hand slips into yours, stunting your explanation for a moment. You gaze down at them, finding the warmth all too welcoming to vocalize any curiosities. His thumb brushes against your knuckles, as if attempting to soothe your worries. 

“Is that how you relocate us? Through tunnels?” 

You nod. “He’s a knight of the people. Just like he vowed to be.” 

Agust sighs. He stops the smoothing touches and redirects his eyes to the floor. “I’m Yoongi,” he whispers, then quickly changes the subject before you’re able to comment on it. “My mother is from Daegu. I thought I’d find her here even though I know where she’s buried.” 

Yoongi. How precious. You repeat the name over and over again until it seers into your brain. A sudden tug to get close gnaws at your heart. A part of you wants to sit in his lap, but another is trying desperately to convince you how bad of an idea that is. The fact of the matter is, though you appreciate the honesty, you can’t help but wonder why he’s telling you all this. After a little over a month of half-sentences and playful teasing at most, he’s suddenly willing to spill all this out to you? It doesn’t make much sense to you, but you’re too afraid to ask. The last thing you’d want to do is downplay his honesty for something material. 

Alas, it seems like you don’t have to ask though. Yoongi already knows. 

“I want to tell you I don’t know. But, I think you might be the first person in a very long time to not care.” When you furrow your brows in confusion, he lightly chuckles and clarifies, “You are clever enough to know my name is not dragon, despite popular belief, and couldn’t care less that I am one. I’m just Yoongi to you, even if you didn’t know it.” 

You cannot deny the allure of him anymore. Hearing him speak of you like this, like you’re the only thing that matters, does more to you than you’re willing to admit. You press your thighs together before slipping into his lap. He wraps an arm around your waist like he’d been expecting this. Yours dangle off his shoulders like you’d been made for this. 

He looks so painfully holy up close, like a fallen god. The scar through his eye crushes your guts with anger. He’d seen so many horrors, perhaps even endured most of it. You know it is not because of the dragon. The determination in his gaze, the desire to survive roots further down than any mythical side of him can touch. Yoongi made it this far because he wanted to. And what do all his efforts leave him with… clipped wings and horns? You can’t sit back and watch him pour himself into this anthology another second. It’s clear he misses his wings, even his horns. 

“Yoongi,” you start, mind sifting through memories of dragon lore. “I think I can bring your wings back.”

He falls silent. A breath doesn’t even dare escape him. “You keep telling me you don’t know much about dragons.”

“I don’t have any physical books about them or dragon hybrids for that matter, but most covens revere dragons. The greatest stories among us are about how magical you are. A piece of you in any potion heightens the effects tenfold,” you explain. 

“So what? You just so happen to have a spell to sprout wings?” 

He’s mocking as a defense. You know this though it still doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes. “Not exactly. Reproduction spells are tricky. They don’t require the typical notions of a dragon that any other spell might. They tend to be a bit more…” you trail off, eyes dancing all around the room just to stay off him. Shifting on his lap, you suddenly find it all too awkward to be seated here. 

“More..?” 

Perhaps you shouldn’t have brought this up. “Intimate.”

You expected to hear him retch in disgust, or maybe even cringe. At the very least, you expected his face to fall. Never did you think it would light up, no matter how badly you hoped it would. 

“Intimate?” He repeats. “How exactly does that work?” You’re about to answer when he adds, “Show me.” 

Heart fluttering, you swallow thickly. Your guts churns with desire, core drenched in desperation as he continues to regard you with cocky indifference. Is he joking? Testing you? You pray to any god listening that he’s serious. 

“We should probably fire the caldron first,” you whisper. “The base needs to brew for a while.” 

Yoongi nods. “I’ll make sure to give it enough time.” He attempts to hide his smile. You push yourself off his lap and try to ignore how needy you become from a few simple words. You can feel him watching. Body shaking, you’re not sure if you're bursting with excitement or simply anxious. Yoongi seems to have made you feel both throughout his stay here. 

Deep breath in, and you bring both hands up to light the fireplace. The charmed calderon fills to life. Rosewater to start; sweet thyme, cloves, wolfsbane, knotgrass and a hint of ginger to brew. Yoongi makes his way towards you, silently watching all the ingredients pour into the black pot. 

“When is it my turn?” 

Skin ablaze, you bit your lip to hold back a moan. “The witch’s essence needs to be added too,” you mutter all too quietly. 

He hears it anyways. “Even better.” 

Your nerves are all he can sense. The smirk on his face tells you that much. He’s playing because he knows he can. He knows he’ll get away with it and there isn’t much you can do about that. Unless… there is?

He did ask you to show him how the intimacy would work. You start to unlace your dress, biting back a giggle when his breath hitches. Did he think you wouldn’t do it? 

Over and off, goes your dress. In a soft thump, it lands on the wooden floors. Yoongi sighs, eyes shamelessly roaming over your naked body, fixating on every dip of your curves. His balls his hands and makes it a point to keep them by his side. The shift in power makes you giddier than it should. 

Raising a brow, you ask, “I thought you wanted to see how it’s done?”

Yoongi chuckles. He licks his lips, looking off to the side for a moment then pulls his shirt off. The symbol of Min inks in arm like a sleeve. A royal dragon. The abuse makes all too much sense now. Not that it has ever been out of place for the king to do such a thing. He thumbs your chin, gently asking to meet his gaze. 

“Do you still want to restore my wings?” He asks, like his status could ever change that. 

You decide to show him how badly you do on your knees. Hands fiddling with his zipper, you undo his pants and let his massive cock smack your face. Yoongi gasps a moan; your pussy clenches with need. How dare he make such a sound so effortlessly? You just might cum from his voice alone, if he keeps this up. And who told him it was okay to be this thick? He’s so heavy against your cheek, pointing at the soft flesh like it belongs to him. 

His eyes gleam, lips stretch into a smug smirk. Well, don’t you? He seems to be silently asking. 

Mouth open, you carve a taste. Is dragon cum as sweet as everyone says? Tongue over slit, and you can confirm that it is. Your eyes roll back and whines escape like it’s your first time. It’s just one taste but you can’t hold yourself back. Spitting over his cock, you pump him a couple of times then shove him down your throat. 

Yoongi groans. His fingers tangle in your hair. At first, they move in gentle motions. The gesture is enough to tell you not to strain yourself. But then you make the mistake of swallowing around him. Your throat tightens all too deliciously for him to merely watch. Like a switch, Yoongi unbounds himself. His nails dig into your scalp, and hips snap forward. 

You gag. And he loves it. Every wet, choked sound struggling to keep up fuels the force of his thrusts. He loses himself all too quickly to even realize that he’s suffocating you. Hands against his thighs, you have to pat him a few times before he returns to his senses. 

In an instant, his hands are by his side again as he pulls out. You let his cock rest on your tongue as you pant. Through your blurred vision, you can only just make out his concerned gaze. “Sorry, princess,” he hisses. 

As if you thought that honey-thick voice couldn’t get any raspier, he goes and calls you his princess. A loud moan leaves you all too quickly. No one has ever dwelled on you like that. Is his objective to ruin you before the spell casts? 

While brushing your hair back, he chuckles down at you. Your soul fills with the undeniable desire to please this man beyond comprehension. You want to hear him whisper how tight you are, tell you how well you’re doing. Until pride glows every inch of your heart, you will not stop choking on his giant cock. 

You take him all at once, again. Throat burning, a part of your regrets not working yourself up to committing to all of him. Back and forth, you bob your head on his dick. So big, he barely even fits. Every new thrust means squeezing himself through all over again. It beckons tears to your eyes and strains your jaw. You’re aching, but he’s twitching.

Face scrunched in pleasure, Yoongi throws his head back. “Just a little more, princess,” he hisses. Pulling in deep, he keeps your head still against his pelvis and whispers, “Hold it there. Just stay- fuck, do it again for Daddy, princess.” 

Anything for daddy, you wish you would scream. You force yourself to swallow twice more than he asked for, risking a gag too big to ignore. Through gritted teeth, he roars like a dragon in heat and unloads himself in your mouth. Most of it slides down just from how deep he’d reached, but the rest spills out from the corner of your lips. 

He doesn’t care. Pulling out, he continues to pump himself at the sight of you. Hair disheveled, cheeks stained with tears and mouth smeared with cum, are you really this big a whore? Or is it all just for him?

You’re granted a moment to catch your breath, watching him watch you with newfound wonder. Vein laced hand, inked and sticky with his own cum, Yoongi pulls you back up to your feet by your neck. He pats your hair down, wipes your lips, then presses a tender kiss upon them.

It’s now that you notice he has always smelt like charred oak, musky and smokey. Everything about him sets you aflame, And though, your lips are on fire from the taste of his, the cold edge of his piercing cools you enough to miss the heat. You moan and drape your arms around his neck like this is some innocent kiss and his erection isn’t poking at your belly. 

“Is there any particular way I gotta fuck you, princess?” He questions between sloppy kisses. 

You force yourself off him long enough to answer, “Hold me over the pot. We have to cum together for it to work.” 

He smiles, jerks his head back when you try to kiss him again. A twinge of embarrassment strikes your heart before he turns you around and softly trails kisses up and down your neck. “You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs into your skin, rough hands kneading your ass. “Fuck, I knew you had an ass but this is fucking insane.” 

A smack follows his praise. You cry out his name. He spanks you harder. “You know that’s not what you’re supposed to call me right now.” 

You giggle through an erotic moan. He doesn’t like the sound of that. With one hand tight on your neck and the other wrapped around your waist to hold you in place, Yoongi kicks your feet and spreads your legs. Gliding his girth between your folds, he hisses against your ear, “You’ll learn to behave yourself from now on, princess.” 

You want to tell him it was never your intention to disrespect him. However, the slow, deliberate punishment he inflicts melts you into him in silence. All you can bring yourself to whine is, “Whatever you want, daddy.” 

“Mmm, that’s right. That’s my perfect princess,” he whispers. Then, he sucks in a sharp breath with you and plunges himself in your tight cunt. You knew he wouldn’t fit probably in your mouth, but you thought that your pussy, sopping for attention oh so desperately, would easily accept him. It’s your fault for underestimating such a massive cock. His tip doesn’t even fit. Yoongi takes to bending you over for a smoother entrance. 

“So huge!” You cry only to have him chuckle behind you. Vibrations of his laugh tickle your spine.

Once he finally pushes his way through, breathless moans and groans filling the space between, he gives you some time to adjust. It;s thoughtful of him, but you both know no amount of time will ever get you used to his godly size. 

“Please just ruin me, daddy,” you beg, through a broken whine. 

“What was that, princess?”

“Please, please just fuck me!”

Tightening his grip on both your neck and waist, he rapsys a dark laugh against the shell of your ear. You shudder, thinking you might just cum now until he starts to ram you. You jerk forward each time despite his hold on you. His hips always overpower everything else. Rough smacks of skin on skin drown your voice until it’s completely gone. You cannot even bring yourself to properly breathe. He’s a beast. Huffing your name, clenching his jaw and sinking his balls into you, Min Yoongi makes it his mission to destroy you. 

“Pretty, pretty little girl,” he hisses. “My pretty princess.” Grinding his hips against your ass, cock swilling the mess he’s making of your pussy, he suddenly breathes, “I wanna make you my queen.” 

Leaning back into him, you find just enough strength to muster the first words that come to mind. “I’m gonna hold you to that, daddy.” 

He moans, softening his hold to shower your face with gentle kisses. A reflection of comfort and familiarity glow in his eyes when he pulls away. His hands slide down to your thighs. He bends a little to hosite you up against  him. With your legs spread, he holds you over the calderon and picks up that wickedly rough pace again. You place your hands over his and let him ravish in you. 

Slouching, your pussy tights with every new thrust. Doses of you are already dripping into the brew as it boils. Yoongi curses. You thought you felt him twitching a few minutes ago but now you’re sure. In fact, you can even see it. He’s so big an imprint of his cock bulges from your stomach. You watch it twitch again as he shoves his balls deeper into you. 

Just witnessing it, triggers your orgasm. You try to hold it off long enough to let him know, only to have Yoongi barks, “Fucking cum!” 

You’ve never been one to deny him anything. Convulsing, you let your orgasm run free through you. Yoongi digs his fingers into your thick thighs to keep you steady, all while continuing to ruin you. It seems as though cumming spurs him on to further plough into you. He moves with harsher force and speed than he did when he was annoyed. 

He mutters something else in your ear, but you can’t make anything out. Your ears ring, vision blurs and you tremble all over. Toes curled and pointed to the sky, you cry out his name. And, as he pulls out of you to let out leak your mixed cum into the potion, you whisper the spell under your breath thrice. 

“Kiss me,” you whine. “Quick.” 

Though lacking his title, he doesn’t argue. Lips on lips, you drip out your love and seal the spell. 

The cackles of the potion break your kiss. Yoongi sets you back down to your feet then steps away from the heat. You lean back into him, watching the calderon overflow with steam and gleam green. 

He pecks your shoulder and wraps his arms around your waist. “So, there really is a potion,” he chuckles quietly to himself. 

“What do you mean? Why would I lie about something like that?”

Yoongi shrugs. You push your ass back against him, teasingly. He tightens his hold with a playful smirk. “I just thought you wanted me.” 

“I do,” you whisper without much thought. 

A relieved smile, gummy and too cute to resemble anything you just did, stretches upon his lip. You peck his chin to which he blushes. Min Yoongi blushing is not a sight you were prepared to see, erupting your heart all too easily. 

“Never speak of this,” he tries to grumble indifferently, but that smile is still playing on his lips. When you go to tease him again, he says, “Will this even work?” 

You shrug. “Only one way to find out.” Enchanting a cup, you snap your fingers to beckon towards you. You fill it to the brim with the potion then hand it to Yoongi. 

He hovers the rim against his lips. Lost in thought or deliberation, you’re not sure. All you can tell is that it seems as though time has frozen for him. 

“Yoong-”

“I don’t want wings,” he sighs. You blink back at him. He takes a breath before adding, “Not now, anyways.”

You look back to the pot, wondering if the entire thing might have been a mistake. He drops the cup into it without much care for the brew that spills and cups your face. “I don’t want wings tonight. I want you.” 

“I’m right here?”

“I remember a little about what it was like to fly. Being with you reminds me of that,” he whispers. 

Tear prick your eyes, disbelief holding your voice hostage. “Me?” You croak, in confusion. “Yoongi, I-”

He holds you closer and suddenly all your words die in your mouth. You’re not even sure what you were trying to say. Pressing his forehead against yours, he mutters your name like a prayer and whispers, “You’re all the wings I need.”

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

[koocycle]

play thing | drabble series (iii)

pairing. basketball player!jungkook x female reader

summary. jungkook is aware of the fact that you’re not his to love, yet he’s determined to show you what you’re missing out on.

wc. 2435

warnings. mild explicit language, suggestive themes.

taglist. if you’d like to be added, please send me an ask!

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“Do you think he would notice if we’d fuck here?”

The question is ridiculous yet amusing to the ear, but you’re still having a hard time finding it in yourself to laugh at the remarkable query. And that’s most likely because Jungkook’s voice falls heavy in the shell of your ear even as you attempt to ignore him the best you can. Yet the act seems harder than usual when his pretty fingertips start gazing over your clothed waist, softly nipping at the flimsy material of your tight shirt in between his pleasing, tattooed fingers.

“He would.” So I wouldn’t try anything if I were you, is what you mean to add, yet the words don’t manage to slip any further than your charming lips that seem sealed shut as soon as you look at him in the eyes.

‘‘Do you think he would care?’’

This one seems to shut you up soon enough – you’re not entirely sure if the answer to that will suit your fight against the man behind you, and the jerk knows that. Because you don’t even have to look at him to see the grin that’s growing on his pretty features.

It’s taking you one more look upon the living room of which is connected to the rather chilly kitchen you’re finding yourself in before you can come up with a decent answer. The silence hurts your ears, but you have no other choice than to stay quiet by his side. Both you and Jungkook know the situation you’re finding yourself in, lying won’t do you any justice.

Your boyfriend’s dyed, blonde locks are astounding and vibrant alongside his fellow teammates on the sofa. They’re yelling at something that happens in the game playing in front of their noses, multiple chaotic arms pointing at the big screen and already loud voices which are only increasing in volume. And you can only guess there’s no good coming out of it.

“Of course he’d care.” You carry on your act, and you’re not entirely sure if it is you or Jungkook you’re attempting to convince here, but it doesn’t seem to work either way, “He is my boyfriend, after all.”

All the lights in Minho’s apartment are turned off, the only ounce of lighting available being the one coming from the big screen in the living area. And that might as well be for the best, considering Jungkook’s sneering eyes that are boring holes in the side of your face right now. He doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer, certainly not when your lips grow into a content, irritatingly smug grin. You probably think you’re the shit now.

“Are you sure about that?” He questions, the fingers that were previously playing with the fabric of your shirt tightening in the heat of his palm as for right now. He can’t keep his hands to himself today, but it seems like you don’t really mind the way today’s play is going.

“So if I do this,” both his hands position themselves down your waist, finding their place on your hips before he slams his chest against your back, “he would come running to punch me in the face right now?”

When his head dips into the crook of your neck, a gasp is leaving your lips and it’s only feeding onto his ego, especially when he can feel you freeze under his fingertips. His lips are only inches removed from the skin on the side of your throat, yet his hot breath spreading down its place is taking an enormous toll on you.

His fingers tighten around both of your hipbones, head dipping even further down your neck to place a wet peck on the spot, a gasp leaving you once a pair of dampened lips make contact with you skin.

‘‘He’d kick me out of his shitty dorm?’’ He stupidly laughs in the crook of your neck, the vibrations against you being anything but sly, but you doubt he even worries about something silly like that. ‘‘Don’t fool yourself, ___. He isn’t even looking.’’

His index fingers that were wrapped around your hips just earlier make a move to tilt your chin up, yet the action doesn’t seem to revolve around him – no, he’s making you look up at Minho. And even though the feeling of his fingertips isn’t overbearing underneath your chin, merely being there for moral support, you don’t make a move to pull your gaze away from your boyfriend.

‘‘Do you think he would care?’’

You don’t need Jungkook to constantly remind you that Minho doesn’t give more than 2 fucks about you, because you’re able to do that yourself just perfectly fine. But what gives him the right to talk about your relationship like that? As if his opinion is relevant to you even the slightest way – he’s ridiculous.

‘‘Cut it out, Jungkook.’’ You snarl in between your gritted teeth, the sweet tone from before completely disappearing as you feel yourself heating up now.

‘‘Or what? Are you going to tell him?’’ His lips are making movements that send shivers down your spine, and you have to refrain your head from falling down to rest on his shoulder, ‘‘I think you’re enjoying this far too much to be putting this to a stop, no?’’

‘‘You’re nothing special.’’ You say, but your body language proves him otherwise. The heavy weight of your head is betraying you, the way you fall limp in his embrace proving his every word to be correct.

He pays no attention to your previous statement, not feeling the need to prove you wrong when both of you already know the deal, ‘‘Tell me why you’re here today.’’ He says instead, voice lower than before.

‘‘Did you invite yourself over because you wanted to spend some time with your boyfriend,’’ flat hands slide down over your clothed belly, large palms reaching lower to the place you desperately need him, ‘‘or because you knew I’d be here?”

You stop him before he can get too far, your own hands clutching own just as desperately. ‘‘Me being here has nothing to do with you.’’

The lie is obvious and perhaps a little lacking in itself, the eager tone in your voice merely being there to overpower him. The attempt was there, but the execution could have been worked on.

His fingers are playing with the belt loops of your jeans, solely hooking his thumbs through them as he pushes you more against him – which he doesn’t even have to put a lot of effort into, not when you sloppily fall against him with your hips wedged to his own, no fight notable in your body. He uses his tallest fingers to reach out from their place to hover over the closed zipper that keeps your panties hidden – and you can’t find it in yourself to break away from him.

‘‘Go to your boyfriend, then.’’ He says, his breath tickling underneath your ear. ‘‘I’m not holding you back.’’

You’re sure it’s the conceited tone in his voice that has something snapping inside of you – most likely the thick layer of confidence nagging at you to stay in your lane. And you have to remind yourself that you’re completely falling for him, melting in his embrace as if your boyfriend isn’t mere feet away from the two of you. As if this Jungkook guy has some kind of effect on you.

Pfft. As if.

You don’t say anything as you remove your body from his own, and neither does he. Yet both of his arms fall slack besides his posture when you look back at him, the tip of his tongue pocking the inside of his cheek. And you know it irks him, yet you’d have to walk over his dead body for him to say it out loud.

If he wanted you to go to your boyfriend, then you will. He can kiss your ass for all you care.

Stupid, hot basketball jock.

With no seats left over of which are relatively close to your boyfriend, you find yourself sitting on the arm of the couch. Annoyed and pissed beyond your limits. He doesn’t reach out for you to make you feel included alongside his friends and neither do you wait (nor want) for him to do so.

You don’t know where Jungkook is, and you force yourself not to care about him for much longer. He didn’t follow you into the living room like as you assumed he would, and for all you know, he could have silently left already the dorm already.

The idea of that doesn’t sit right with you, though. The void in the pit of your stomach is only expanding at the thought of you sitting here with Minho and his friends, watching some stupid game you’re barely interested in. With you being here, bored and out of your mind, does nothing to spark your boyfriend’s interest – and it’s not like you expected much different when you walked through his door today. Your mind is already looping down a hole of excuses you’ll be throwing into his face as soon as you can get out of here.

‘‘Minho,’’ you eventually speak up, fingers nudging his shoulder. ‘‘I’m leaving now.’’

He only hums in response, a quick and effortless ‘‘mhm’’ leaving his closed lips. Eyes trained on the screen in front of him as he unappealingly munches on some popcorn, the greasy saltiness sticking to his fingertips.

He’s not asking you why you’re leaving, and you don’t think it’s happening any time soon. Except doesn’t matter this time, because again, you didn’t expect anything else to happen. His friends are focused on the game, so you’re no use to him at this moment. Not when he can’t show you off in front of the world.

As if on cue, Jungkook comes strolling into the living area as soon as you stand up from your seat on the armrest. A bright red, nearly perfect looking apple rests in the center of his palm as he’s chewing on the remaining pieces in his mouth, flawless and sharp eyebrows just slightly furrowed.

He barely looks at you as he walks by, feet moving to his previous spot on Minho’s cornered sofa, yet he raises an unabashed eyebrow once he catches a glimpse of you. As if asking you where you’re heading to, but at the same time telling you he could care less if you were actually to leave.

That’s a lie though. You know that much.

Seeing the way he falls down on the couch with a huff, cockily munching on the sweet pieces of apple on his tongue; you can see right through him. He doesn’t want you gone.

The guy enjoyed shoving all the blame on you tonight, telling you how much you needed him, yet you know he is in an all too eager frame of mind for your presence just as much as you are for his. And it’ll be a hard job to get him to say it out loud, but you might as well think Jungkook is a challenge you’d gratefully accept tonight.

So in honor of him, you’ll stay just a little longer.

‘‘What are you doing?’’ Minho’s voice rummages through the room when you suddenly decide to slip into his lap, knees on both of his sides as your ass pokes out on his thighs. It doesn’t grab the boys’ attention just yet, only a few glances here and there before they quickly avert back to the game, scooping more loads of popcorn and coke down their throats.

But you can feel the eyes of a certain someone on you.

‘‘I want to cuddle with you.’’ You shrug, resting your head on the base of his shoulder, angled perfectly in a way where you can take Jungkook’s expression in. The dude doesn’t look happy. ‘‘I’ve missed you.’’

Jungkook doesn’t even pretend as if he’s interested in the game, not towards you nor his teammates. They’re not paying much attention to him, anyways. His harsh stare is only locking with your own as he slumps down his seat on the sofa, legs spread apart before you attempt on not looking down once he does so.

‘‘Did you miss me too?’’ You don’t want a genuine answer from him. Heck, you hardly hear him once he mutters an uninterested ‘of course I did’, and instead your fingers lock with his, guiding them down your ass.

And you’re glad his larger hands rest there without question, in full view of the guy you currently have wrapped around your finger. You can see his tongue poking in the inside of his cheek again, which is more than a good sign. He repositions himself quite a few times in his place, hoping the daggers he’s shooting in your direction are put into good use and you’ll back the fuck off soon enough.

There’s no luck on his side when your fingers come up to rest on your boyfriend’s jaw, solely being there for show when your lips make contact with the skin underneath his jawline.

‘‘Do you think they would notice if we’d fuck here?’’ Your voice is sharp and confident in the crook of his neck, the volume of your voice loud enough to catch some ears in the room.

Minho’s head shoots down to look at you as soon as the words escape your lips, totally caught off guard as well as the other boys who seem shocked as well – yet you couldn’t care less about them. Jungkook’s eyes are boring into yours and that’s all that matters at this right moment.

He’s stopped munching on the apple pieces in his mouth, swallowing them down his throat with some effort, his hand is tightening around the pretty colored fruit as he can already feel his body heating up at the sudden reference.

‘‘I don’t think they would care.’’ You continue to blabber on, the guy on the other side of the couch feeling a little tense in the current situation he’s finding himself in.

‘‘Babe..’’ Minho’s uncertain voice booms through his chest as he continues to mumble something about the game, but your focus isn’t on him. Instead you have found your center of attention elsewhere.  

Else, where his hands drop down in between his spread legs, cupping the inner sides of his thighs. His jaw clenched so tightly that you’re able to catch the sharp jawline from this distance as the two rows of teeth are clutched against one another – unable to open up.

You’re leading this game. And you’re loving it.

taglist — @jinsalpaca @moonchild1 @annenhypen @fan-ati--c

[chocoluckchipz]

A Soulmate for Christmas - 1

No one but you see your soulmate mark. Not unless your soulmate touches it, and even then, it only glows for a moment. Most consider that a blessing, but Marinette would say it’s a blessed curse. Because how was she supposed to find the boy who left a black cat mark on her hand fifteen years ago in the city that wasn't even located in France? So when she finds a model flaunting the mark she put on him all those years back in a magazine, she has hope for a moment. That is until she notices the article discuss his imminent engagement to someone else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, what’s the emergency?"

Marinette’s hand emerged from under the covers, pointing in the direction of her desk. "The new Paris Fashion. Page thirty."

Alya whistled upon reaching the said page. "Looking good, M Agreste. Good enough to turn my best friend into a hot mess with a single picture."

"This isn’t funny, Al. Look at his chest!"

"Pure lean muscle. Perfectly toned. He's growing up nicely. Though, I fail to see why this is a big enough emergency for you to make me bail on lunch with Nino."

"Look. At. His. Chest." Marinette crawled out from under the comforter and stomped toward Alya, pointing at the particular spot on the picture. "This. Look at this."

"A ladybug tattoo? So—Wait!" Alya looked up at Marinette, her finger pointing to the ladybug mark painted on his chest. "Are you telling me that’s his—" 

"Right where I put it!" Marinette cried, ducking back under her covers. "See? He exists! I told you. I can’t believe you were doubting me all this time!"

"Well, excuse me, but you were five, and he sounded too good to be true. Little boys don’t usually go out of their way to help crying girls they don’t know find their flirting grandmas at a fashion show in Milan. Little boys don’t kiss said little girl’s hand as a farewell while they are at it. And they certainly don’t ask for the girl to kiss their soulmate mark into existence as close to their heart as she possibly could. ‘So, they won’t forget her,’ right?"

"So, he could always keep me close to his heart," Marinette corrected. "But that doesn’t matter now. You were right. That boy doesn’t exist anymore, and this one isn’t as good as I thought he was, so whatever. I’ll get over him and move on. There are plenty of guys out there. One of them is bound to like me more than money, fame, and prestige."

"What do you mean? Shouldn’t you be happy your crush is your soulmate?"

With a pitiful groan slipping her lips, Marinette buried her face into her pillow. "Ugh! I can’t believe I ever felt guilty for crushing on him. I thought I was a horrible person betraying my soulmate for some handsome, sexy supermodel. Foolish me. He doesn’t deserve any of my attention."

"Marinette, seriously. What do you mean?"

"Read the article."

Alya fell silent as soon as she noticed the title. "‘Paris’ most eligible bachelor reveals… a long-time secret relationship with his childhood friend Kagami Tsurugi. Doesn’t deny Christmas Eve engagement rumour.’ Oh."

"And you know what the worst part is?"

"What can be worse than discovering that your long-time crush is your long-lost soulmate and then finding out he’s been not only dating someone else but very likely will propose… tonight?"

"How about being at the same party at the same time. As a waitress."

Alya swore under her breath and put the magazine down. "Mayor Bourgeois’ Christmas Gala?"

Marinette nodded. "The article said they both confirmed they will be attending. I'll get a front-row seat to my soulmate's proposal to someone else. Lucky me."

"Then don’t go," she said, sitting down beside Marinette. "I’ll go in your place."

Marinette couldn’t let her do that. Nino was going to propose tonight, so Alya couldn’t be anywhere but with him. "You’re spending your first Christmas with Nino’s family. I’m not standing in the way of that."

"I can spend New Year Day with them."

"You’re going to the French Alps with your family that weekend. Don’t try to weasel out of it. Your mom has been planning that trip for months. Nora’s flying in specifically for it."

"I’m not trying to weasel out. I’m trying to help you, M."

"And I appreciate it, but I’m not making you go instead of me."

"What about your father?"

"The doctor said he shouldn’t be getting up for at least another week or his leg might not heal properly and he’ll end up with a prospect of a surgery which we’re trying to avoid."

"Then, I’m sure Rose or Juleka wouldn’t mind stepping in."

"No." Marinette sat up on her bed. "They have plans, and I’m not going to ruin them. I’ll just have to grow a pair and face him like the strong, independent woman I am. Or rather go help Maman and avoid him at all cost. He’s not even going to recognize me anyway. I didn’t. Not until I saw that photo."

"That’s true. I doubt he remembers much about you. You were babies when you met, so just stay away from him and keep your hands covered. That way even if you accidentally touch he won’t see it. A pair of gloves perhaps?"

"Mayor has uniforms for all the servers, even those coming in with the caterers, so no gloves for me. But as long as I do my job and pretend like I’m not in the same room with my soulmate who clearly didn't think me worthy enough to search for and instead decided to date this very famous, very influential, extremely rich girl from his own circle, I should be fine."

"I’m so sorry, M." Alya wrapped her arms around Marinette, bringing her into her chest for a cuddle. "Men are stupid. Some more than the others. Especially the rich and spoiled ones."

Marinette scoffed bitterly. "Don’t I know it. I got plenty of examples from being in the same class as Chloe Bourgeois for years." 

"Isn’t Adrien Chloe’s friend?"

"I think so. I was hoping Adrien wasn't like her. Clearly, that isn't the case."

"You'll get over him soon, and we'll find you a nice, handsome, smart man who will cherish and love you for who you are."

"Soulmates are so last century anyway, right?" Marinette swallowed back the knot in her throat. No matter how much she tried to convince herself, this hurt. "I’m sure he doesn’t even remember meeting me. We were five. Who would be holding on to a memory of a random girl in Milan? And even if he did remember me, he probably thinks I live there. I thought my soulmate lived in Milan until he decided to show off his stupid soulmate mark to the whole world. Who does that, anyway? Those are supposed to be one of the most intimate of details of one’s life. You don’t just show it to everyone, and certainly not to the whole world while announcing your engagement to someone else." 

Her eyes fell to her hand where, invisible to everyone but her, an image of a black cat lay, a mark Adrien Agreste left there more than a decade ago with his first kiss to her skin. Just like a mark of a ladybug appeared on his chest when her lips touched it upon his request. He said he wanted to keep her close to his heart, so it would be easier for him to find her.

What a load of BS.

"Have you ever thought that, perhaps, that could’ve been a message to you?" Alya asked. "He went through the trouble of painting over his soulmate mark for the photoshoot so others could see it. It has to mean something. No one is dumb enough to think that if Adrien Agreste releases topless photos while announcing something as big as a possible engagement, there would be at least one person in France, or even Europe for that matter, who wouldn't see it. He knew his soulmate would see it."

Marinette laughed. Bitterly. "Yeah, a great message. ‘Here is my soulmate mark, my dear soulmate. In all the years I knew you existed, I didn’t bother to find you. But I did make sure that this picture, in which I showcase to the whole world the mark you left me, came along with an article where I discuss how much I love my girlfriend you'll never compare to in status, money or looks. Not that I even care about your feelings, announcing that an engagement is in the near future for me and my darling childhood friend.’ Yeah. This is definitely a message, Alya. He says ‘Screw you, Marinette. I’m better off with Kagami Tsurugi, and I thought you should know that.’"

Alya wrapped her arms around her tighter. "First of all, only brainless idiots would take status and money over love. Second, you’re the prettiest, smartest, and the most successful woman I've ever known, and third, you're an amazing and wonderful person who's on her way to becoming one of the best designers in Paris, so don’t you bring yourself down because of a stupid man who doesn't realize what he lost."

"It's my fault anyway. That's what I get for letting that stupid, cute boy kiss my stupid hand at a stupid fashion show in stupid Milan."

"You were five, M. And he was a dashing gentleman, helping you find your grandmother in a strange city you got lost in. You couldn't have known he's your soulmate. No one could have."

"Right. And he won’t recognize me, so I’ll be fine. He won’t even look a waitress’ way. Nothing to worry about. I’m very much certain the only person he’ll be looking at will be his future bride-to-be, so I have absolutely nothing to be scared of. Not that I’m scared, because I’m not. I just don’t want to be humiliated. Not that I’m already humiliated, but at least no one knows about it. That'll be awful if anyone else finds out—"

Alya grabbed her face and turned to look at her. "Marinette, breathe. Calm down."

She took a few deep breaths and tried to relax. Alya was right. This was fine. She’d be fine. Everything would be just peachy.

"As long as he doesn’t touch your right hand, no one will know. I still insist I go instead of you. Nino will understand—" 

"No. I’ll go. I can do it."

"Yes, you can, and you’ll be fine, but if anything happens, you have my number. I’ll be there in five minutes. You got me?"

Marinette nodded, pulling Alya into a hug. She was an amazing friend, and Nino and she were going to be insanely happy together. One day perhaps, Marinette would meet someone too. Someone who, just like her, was betrayed by their soulmate. Or someone who had lost theirs. Someone who would be kind and gentle and, like her, would just want to be happy. 

Someone who was not Adrien Agreste. 

Next >

Read it on A03, FF.net. WattPad

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[thiswasinevitableid]

The Bachelor

A birthday gift for @bellafarallones. Part 3 of the TAZ Amnesty Bachelor AU (sternclay and indruck were the first two) AKA what Vincent was up to. Apollo is from my Amnesty Super Hero fic

The entire United States to choose from and this is the best the producers could find? He’s going to win this thing with his eyes closed. Then it’s a hop, skip, and jump to some endorsement deals, his own spin-off, and then a prime time hosting slot. 

Oh, and a marriage. But that should be easy; any guy would count themselves lucky to have him.

God, that pool will be great for Instagram shots. Luckily the producers knew their biggest draw when they saw him and agreed to let Indrid continue his work as Apollo’s personal photographer and assistant. He may be a disappointment to the Cold name, but he’s good with a camera and has no interest in being recorded for the show. And if, god forbid, Apollo comes down with a cold during filming, someone will be there to bring him Day-Quil. After all, if he lets anyone see Apollo in a vulnerable state, Apollo will just have to send their father an email about Indrid’s latest failure. 

“It’s times like this we should be grateful for our genes. I know I am.” He glances at his twin, pausing his gaze on his silver hair and tattoos.

“You dye yours too. And I think there are more than a few handsome men here, so don’t get cocky.” His attention shifts for a moment as a man dressed like Smokey the Bear passes them.

“Oh come on, even with those pretentious glasses you can see I’m a cut above.”

“If you say so. And if you want to do shots of you in your suit, we need to start soon, so kindly find your room so we can get on with it.”

--------------------------------------------------

Not only is this easy, it’s fun. The cameras love him, and most of his fellow contestants yield to him after one remark. He’s been watching Vincent, the bachelor for this season, closely during group interactions, and it’s clear he’s already developing favorites. Annoyingly, two in particular--Joseph and Duck--are more inclined to push back at him. But it doesn’t matter; everyone has weaknesses. He’ll find theirs soon. 

Tonight is his first formal date with Vincent. They’re at an Italian place with good lighting, and Vincent is perfectly nice to look at in his lavender dress shirt and silver tie. Apollo’s done his research; Vincent is ten years his senior, took an early retirement from a position in the department of defense and now runs two consulting businesses; one for banks and museums and one for domestic violence shelters, health clinics, and other places where doing good draws enemies. The first business subsidizes the second. Vincent enjoys tennis and running, has no Instagram presence, and is an only child. 

Apollo has his plan of attack; the trouble is, Vincent isn’t interested in sitting there and being flattered (though he does blush when Apollo says the tie makes the grey in his hair look all the more distinguished). He wants to know about Apollo. 

“When you’re not taking photos, what do you like to do?”

He doesn’t correct him about who takes the pictures, smiles, “I, ah, I go to the gym.”

“I have to say it shows.” Vincent winks. It’s so corny, but Apollo can’t find it in him to hate it, “any sports, or just things like weights and cardio?”

‘

“No, but I played football in high school. I was star running back.”

“I played my freshman year, but baseball suited me better. So when you're not ‘pumping iron’, what do you do for fun?”

There is no answer that won’t make him look too shallow or too...no, he can’t even think about that option. Damn it, he must have a normal hobby. He hedges with the truth and hopes the editors cut it for time. 

“I like movies. I, ah, I’ve been working my way through the Criterion Collection of the birth of cinema  and it’s fascinating. Did you know there was a silent film heartthrob who predates Valentino?”

“Sessue Hayakawa?” 

“You know about him?” He leans forward.

“I read a biography of him last year that was riveting. I still have it if you’d like to borrow it.”

“Yes, yes absolutely. We, we could even watch some of his films together, and the ones they inspired, you know they, they…” 

Fuck, he’s acting like Indrid, bumping the table and yammering about things that will get him nowhere. He sits back, grabs his wine and sips to cover his error. 

“I’d like that.” Is all Vincent says as they’re entrees arrive. 

“Enough about me. I was reading about your business and, ah, well, how do you even do something like that?”

Vincent describes his process, how he picks clients and what he considers when evaluating a space. Apollo fully intends to zone out with a smile. 

He hangs on every word. All too soon, Vincent is asking for dessert. 

“Is your meal okay?”

Apollo looks at the plate of spaghetti carbonara he’s been poking at, not wanting to be caught in an ugly expression while eating, “Yes, it’s delicious.”

Dessert arrives in the shape of a chocolate lava cake with sparklers, a detail which delights Vincent. It’s such a ridiculous thing to smile over. Apollo smiles back, and let’s his date feed him a bite of cake. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Was the beach trip self-serving on Vincent’s part? Indeed. Has it also given him valuable intel? Yes, yes it has.

He now knows who’s going home next; Nico is such a fraternity-bred asshole that he should have sent him packing weeks ago. Honestly, all his comments about Barclay this morning were awful. Barclay is masculine and sweet in a way Vincent adores. He even helped Joseph during the cliff dive, which bumps him even higher in Vincent’s eyes. 

Joseph stealthily knocking Nico’s hat from his head with a frisbee was also a high point; goodness, Joseph reminds him of men he used to work with who he never, ever, admitted his feelings for (they were often his subordinates, and he prided himself on keeping a safe department). 

Then there’s Duck. Vincent would like an award for not spending the morning asking to rub sunblock on those arms. He’s been treated to a closer view of them the last half-hour, Duck sitting next to him in a Hawaiin shirt that shows off his biceps. The ranger just now excused himself (“gotta give the other fellas a chance to impress”) to go keep Indrid company during dinner. Polite and friendly to the core, that’s his favorite bear. 

And then there’s-

“Hiiii Vincent.” Apollo slides into the spot closest to him on the restaurant deck. 

Were Vincent choosing for an evening, Apollo would edge out even Duck. He suspects getting the younger man under some comfortable sheets to praise and fuss over him would be very nice indeed. Apollo may posture and insist to the others that he’s the dominant one in the bedroom, but this isn’t Vincent’s first go around; he knows someone who longs to be spoiled and submissive when he sees one.

But he’s here to choose his husband, not a hook-up. 

He initially assumed he’d send Apollo home after their first formal date. He knows these shows sometimes attract people who want their fifteen minutes of fame, and Apollo is one of them. But then his meticulously built image cracked, just a little, as they talked, and Vincent is so taken by what he saw that he can’t bring himself to send him home yet.

The older man slides the younger one an oyster, “try one, they’re local.”

There’s no appealing way to eat an oyster on camera, but Apollo lifts a shell and downs one. He does an excellent job masking his grimace.

“Another? Or would you like one of the grilled scallops instead?”

He watches him run a calculus. Then he slides his sunglasses down, “Scallop, please.”

Maybe there’s hope for him yet.

-------------------------

“Indrid, Vincent hates me!”

Indrid blinks at him.

“One of the other contestants got them to show him a bunch of footage of me putting the other men in their place and now he hates me.” Genuine panic rises in his chest as Indrid gives him absolutely no expression to work from. 

“What do you want me to do?”

“Talk to him, tell him that I’m not-”

“What you actually are? Vincent is here to choose a spouse; he has a right to not choose you.”

“Fix. It.” Apollo snarls.

His twin stands, regarding him from across the rug, “I will speak to Vincent, on one condition; you do not go after Duck ever again.”

“Traitor, you should be on my side, not his.”

Indrid shrugs, sits back down and picks up his book. 

“I’ll, I’ll tell father you’re sabotaging me.”

“You think he’ll like to hear you’re being out done by his inferior son?”

“....Damn it. Fine, fine. I’ll leave Newton alone. Now go.”

His brother has the audacity to grin at him, “I will, right after I finish this chapter.”

---------------------------------------------

He’s sitting with Duck and Joseph, asking their opinion, when Indrid enters the living room.

“Did Apollo send you?” Vincent picks lint from his cardigan. 

“Yes. He’s asking me to intercede on his behalf since he thinks you hate him.”

“Oh dear, I don’t hate him. I just said I was disappointed in him.”

“Ah” Indrid perches on the arm of Duck’s chair, “That’s our father’s code for ‘I hate you.”

“Jesus.” Duck mutters.

“I suspected he was exaggerating. That’s why I agreed to talk to you; I’ve learned it’s best to verify anything  he tells me. In truth, I can’t do much for him.  If it’s not obvious, he takes after our father and our father is...not a good man. We each survive him in our own way; Apollo chose to mold himself into what he demanded we be. That does not excuse him. But perhaps it puts him into perspective.”

Vincent knows he’s not sending Apollo home this week; it’s still Nico’s turn. And his heart that taps his chest to ask, “Do you think he could change?”

Indrid says nothing. Duck is keeping his mouth shut, but his frown suggests his answer.

“This is not to defend him but” Joseph looks at Indrid, “you grew up under the same conditions and chose not to replicate them. That suggests it’s possible.”

“I just didn’t want to end up like him.” Indrid murmurs.

“And ‘possible’ don’t mean probable.” Duck adds.

Vincent rubs his temples, “You’re right. All of you. I...I think I need some time to decide how many chances to be the person I think he can be I ought to give him.”

---------------------------------------

Apollo isn’t sure what to expect. The last time Vincent asked to see him, it was to scold him. Three guys have gone home since then, and he’s been fighting back his impulses to torment and gloat, focusing instead on  making Vincent like him instead of undermining the competition. 

The door opens on a room with a bed, lots of candles, and…

“Is that whale song?”

“Yes. I picked a ‘soothing’ playlist to fit the mood.” Vincent is in linen pants and a button up short sleeve, pats the bed with a smile, “I thought a nice massage might do you good. Non-sexual, of course” he tips his head at the camera.

Apollo isn’t shy. His thirst traps are legendary. But he lays on his stomach the instant he’s down to his underwear. Vincent hums as he starts on his shoulders, checking in now and then about pressure. It would be nice if Apollo’s skin weren’t starving for gentle touches. He keeps letting out pathetic sounds, almost like chirps, as Vincent rubs him down. 

Then the worst thing happens; he gets hard. At first he tries just keeping his hips still but no, just Vincent’s touch is enough. So he tenses in hopes of not giving it away.

“Is it too hard?”

“No, I’m fine.”

The hands leave his skin and he whines like a kicked dog. 

“Would you gentlemen let us do the rest in private? I’m sure the viewers get the point.”

There’s shuffling feet and shutting doors, and then a gentle hand rolling him onto his back.

“Apollo, what’s really--oh. That explains it.” 

He scrambles to sit up, tucking his knees to his chest, “I’m sorry, you said you didn’t want it to be sexual, I didn’t do this on purpose, I swear-”

The bed squeaks along with him as Vincent sits, “Sweetheart, I’m not going to get angry with you for this. If, um, if it helps to know, the feeling is very much mutual.”

It should feel like a triumph, but his cheeks burn and he hides his face against his knees. 

“Does that bother you?”

“No! No, not at all. I wouldn’t be wooing you on T.V if I didn’t think you were attractive. Blech, I sound like one of Indrid’s romance novels. Not, not that there’s anything wrong with Indrid...liking...silly things.”

Vincent cups his face and he leans into it, wants to glue his cheek there, “Apollo, I’ve noticed you’re trying to be less...unkind since our little talk.”

“I’m trying. It’s just so very, very hard.”

“I’ve also noticed you’re letting your persona go now and then. That means a lot to me. I’m not interested in the man you think you should be; I’m interested in the man you might become, the man you are when you stop trying to be better than everyone. I like that man, I’d like to get to know him more.”

Apollo shivers as Vincent kisses his forehead, “I’ll do my best.”

-----------------------

“The nerve of Joseph to say things like that to me!”

Indrid doesn’t look up, “It’s a genuine concern; Vincent is older, there will likely come a time when you’ll be the one caring for him. Are you certain you’ll have the patience for that? Be willing to put your needs and wants on hold for the sake of someone else?”

That’s really what would happen? He, he could do it for Vincent, he’s certain. But could he? What if it’s hard, without glory or gain, does that make it foolish?

He chases those thoughts in dizzying circles for fifteen minutes until they crash into the solution.

“I solved it! I don't have to worry about taking care of Vincent as he ages because he'll divorce me once I reach thirty-two.”

“That is the bleakest possible conclusion.” Indrid flips his sketchbook closed. 

“Just let me have this!”

“I hate that I even have to say this but Vincent is not our father.”

“Father said he was doing what any sensible man would do.”

Indrid levels him with an unusually firm stare, “Do you not want Vincent just because he’s over thirty-two?”

“Of course not! He’s great! I, brother for goodness sake just tell me how to care for him.”

“I literally cannot do that. You have to figure it out for yourself what care looks like for you.”

He’s about to repeat his demand when his phone rings. 

“Hi, Vincent.”

“I'm so sorry, but I have to break our date tonight. I was out for a run and twisted my ankle. I just got back from the doctor; he says I sprained it, so I might be on bed rest a few days.”

Perfect. 

“Oh no, I’m glad it’s not too serious. Would, ah, would it be alright if I came to see you?”

They agree on a time. Then he remembers the problem that preceded the phone call.

“What do I do?”

“What do you want to do for him? Or, if your positions were reversed, him to do for you?” Indrid asks flatly. 

“Call you so he doesn’t see me looking frail.”

“assume I am dead and thus no longer dealing with your nonsense”

“That’s not fair.”

Indrid flops on the bed, “I'm dead, Vincent is the only one who is coming to take care of you, what do you want him to do?”

“Tell me it’s okay and spend time with me and…”

Indrid grins, “And?”

“And watch PBS in bed.”

“It’s a start. Now please get out of my room.”

An hour later he pokes his head into Vincent’s bedroom; the older man is reclining, reading a John Grisham paperback in a robe that makes him look very suave

“How are you feeling?” He sits next to him, rubs his knee. .

 “Oh, I'm fine, just feel a little silly. It used to be I could twist an ankle and come up fine. Aging is quite the adventure.”

“I, um, I'm glad it wasn't too bad. I, I don't like the thought of you getting hurt. Bot that you'd be bad if you did! I accept that we are all very fragile beings trying not to die.

(Too dark, Cold,  pull it back).

“I mean, um, is there anything I can do to help?”

“I'd be happy to have you stay awhile.” Vincent takes his hand, let’s him lean on his shoulder as they talk. They’re midway through a discussion of famous film disasters when a small burst of black and red lands on the windowsill. He doesn’t catch his excitement in time and Vincent asks him what made him perk up. 

With a courage he did not know he possessed, he points to the bird.

“Oh! How beautiful. What kind is it?”

“Scarlet Tanager” he mumbles, “they’re not common here.”

“Do you know a lot about birds?”

He nods. 

“There are some feeders just on that balcony. And I think the binoculars a friend gave me last Christmas are still in the closet, if you’d like to use them.”

“I would” he stands, heart bubbling with terrifying warmth, “thank you, da--ah, dear.”

Mischief sweeps across Vincent’s face, “Is this where you tell me you’ve had lots of older boyfriends?”

“No. I, ah, I’ve made out some but I never dated.”

“Not even a highschool sweetheart?”

“My father made it so no teenager wanted to go near our house. Or us.” The binoculars are magnificent, the best money can buy, “I always wished I had a date to homecoming. It looked so fun, asking someone or getting asked and then having matching outfits and going out to dinner and taking pictures together. I even picked out an outfit just in case someone asked.  I think Indrid snuck out to meet his burnout--, um, meet his friends. I just sat in my room.”

“You could have asked someone yourself, couldn’t you?” Vincent makes room for him on the bed once more. 

 “And risk getting rejected in front of the whole school? No thank you.” He stares at the binoculars, afraid of what he might see if he turns, “I'm sorry, you don't need to hear all this. I’m supposed to be here taking care of you.”

Vincent opens his arms, pulling Apollo into a hug, “You know care can go two ways at once, right?”

“Not really” he mumbles into silver silk.

“Oh, sweetheart.” A kiss on his cheek, hands running soothingly up his sides, and those weak, silly noises slipping from his mouth. 

“I want it to be, I’ll be so good, I’ll take care of you, just please...please say you’d do the same?”

“Of course. That’s what love is.”

He tucks his face against Vincent’s neck, “Will you make fun of me if I say I’m frightened?”

“Never.”

“I don’t know how to do so much of this. I don’t know how much of me can change.”

“Are you willing to try?” Vincent kisses the shell of his ear.

“For you? Yes.”

-------------------------------------------

“I choose…” Vincent looks between Apollo and Jonathan. Apollo cannot wait to spring into his arms. 

“I choose neither.”

“What!” Ned yells off camera.

“I’m sorry to both of you but I simply can’t. Jonathan, you’re a very nice man, but our connection is ultimately lacking. Apollo” Vincent meets his eyes and he forces his gaze to stay placid, “I care for you more than words can say. I know you’ve worked so very hard to change. I also know that people can easily revert to their old, cruel ways under pressure or difficulty. Marriage often involves those things, and I’m not sure you can be the man I need you to be. With those misgivings,  it wouldn’t be fair to propose to either of you. I hope you understand.”

They both say the do, shake hands, give hugs. And he does, he truly does understand. He understands that Vincent made the choice he had to, that even though he got better he is still a rotten, cruel creature who doesn’t deserve him. He was taught he deserved the world; some good that did him. It lost him the only person who might make the world a less miserable place. 

“Apollo!” Vincent jogs after him, catches up to him in an empty hall, “Apollo I-”

His heart is breaking; his old ways twine like vipers around it, “I, I’m glad you didn’t choose me you, you boring, pathetic man. No wonder you have to pay people to go on dates with you! I don’t need anyone, least of all you!”

Vincent steps back, face falling as Apollo storms off. The last thing he hears is, “And here I thought I made the wrong choice.”

---------------------

He deletes his Instagram. Gets a job as a personal shopper. Goes to therapy because he will not let Indrid outshine him when it comes to unlearning how they were raised. 

It helps. Three months after the disastrous finale (for him, not for the network) he’s feeling, if not better, like he might actually try dating someone soon. He also writes two apology letters; one to Indrid and one to Vincent. Then he tears them both up and just tells Indrid that he’s trying to be less of an asshole and that he’s sorry for all the time he was one. He leaves Vincent alone; if he doesn’t want to see him, the least he can do is respect that.

It’s migration season, so he’s hiding in his favorite, super-secret birdwatching spot. It’s near a pond, so lots of birds come to drink and bathe, and he’s seen several on his list. 

Branches crack, sending nearby jays into a flap. Damn it, he’s never seen someone else here; the only person he ever told about it was-

“Hi, Apollo.”

“Vincent!” He almost falls off his stump, “how, why?”

“I’d been meaning to explore this spot ever since you spoke about it. But I, um, was also hoping I might see you in the process. Pathetic, as you might say.”

“I did, didn’t I.” Apollo stares up at him, clutching his binoculars so hard they might become disparate spyglasses, “Vincent, I am so, so, so very sorry for how I acted when we last saw each other. I was hurt, all I want is to make someone else hurt more so I stop feeling so vulnerable and powerless. I, I’ve been working on it in, in” he winces “therapy. You said once that you wanted to meet the man I might be. I realized I wanted to meet him to, to be him, not to win some show or even to get you to like me but just because I don’t want to be the other Apollo anymore.”

Vincent sits next to him, “You don’t give up, do you?”

“I, I just want to un-fuck what I can. I, how have you been?”

“Doing lots of thinking. I still know I made the right call not proposing during the finale. And that I’m ready to start dating again.”

“I hope whoever you go out with knows how lucky they are.” He says without any motive but the truth.

Vincent plucks a late-blooming wildflower and offers it to him, “It’s not a rose, but then again, this isn’t a proposal. It’s just a date, if you still want one.”

“So badly.” 

The older man leans in, kissing him softly as his spine turns to soup, “I’m looking forward to meeting the, um, latest version of you.” He snickers at his own phrasing.

Apollo pulls him into a second kiss, “Me too.”

[avengerscompound]

It’s You and Me - Chapter 4

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x  F!Reader

Word Count:  1735

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Mentions of underage sex, and mentions of past child abuse, child sexual abuse and pornography

Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back.  Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you.  For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down.  Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father.  Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.

Chapter 4: Then

Life in the circus could move on quickly.  When Clint stopped seeing you around Jacques Duquesne, he stopped worrying about you and while he did still see you around from time-to-time, the two of you didn’t have a lot to do with each other.  Unless you were in his field of vision, he didn’t spare you much of a thought.  He had other things that occupied him anyway.

For starters, he had this general need to be the best at what he did.  He practiced archery and swordsmanship so that people would be excited to see him.  Crowds would pay money and he’d earn his place legitimately and wouldn’t be made to pickpockets or run any of the scams they had going at any one time.

There was also Eden.  He’d been dating her since you showed up and it was getting hot and heavy pretty fast.  He didn’t feel the need to be glued to her constantly but he definitely liked being with her more than not.  Though it was hard to pick out exactly what it was that drew him to her.  She knew more about him than he knew about her.  She seemed to like listening to him prattle on about any old thing that popped into his head.  She never really gave him anything back though and sometimes he did wonder if he just liked the way she made him feel.  That thought never lasted long though.  She was a hot, a good listener, and even better lay, and at seventeen there wasn’t much else he was looking for.

You showed up a few months after you arrived at the circus while Clint and Eden were making out behind the trailer he shared with his brother and a couple of the other younger guys in the troop.  You stood awkwardly looking off to the side and Eden pulled back and looked at you.

“Can we help you?”  She asked.

“I just wanted to talk to Clint,” you said, shifting awkwardly.  “Sorry.” 

Eden shrugged and got up.  “I said I’d go rehearse a new routine with Ringmaster,” she said.  “He’s all yours.”

Clint watched her leave, his eyes almost transfixed by the way her tattoos moved as she swayed her hips, and as she disappeared around the side of the big top, he turned his attention to you.  “What’s up, kid?”

“You said you could teach me some things…” you said.  “Does that offer still stand?”

Clint stood and looked around.  “Jacques said something to you?  I thought you were looking after some of the animals.”

You shrugged.  “He said that the animals were all being looked after fine before I got here, and I needed to start earning my way.”

“Right,” Clint said with a nod.  “Come on.”

You hurried after him, your legs moving twice as fast to keep up with the strides he was taking.  “I’ll have to start with the basics, so you might need to find something in the meantime.  When I was your age they made me pickpocket to pay my way and I’d already had about eight years of training,” Clint said.  “But you don’t gotta pose for any photos.  We can work out some other way you can make the money.”

“Oh yeah?” You snarked.  “How exactly?  I don’t know how to do shit.”

“Hey, I’m trying to help you here,” Clint said.  “You want it or not?”

You looked at him like you were considering changing your mind before folding your hands over your chest and nodding.

“Maybe you can be my assistant until you get better,” Clint suggested, grabbing a couple of wooden swords from the weapons case.  “I can shoot apples off your head or Twizzlers out of your mouth or something.  Maybe we can play up the fact you’re a kid.  Have you come out in a cutesy dress with a balloon and I’ll pop it.  I dunno.  I’ll think of something.”

You looked down at your feet and nodded.  “Why are you willing to help me?”

Clint tapped the end of the sword on the dirt in front of him.  “What he’s doin’ isn’t right.  You’re a kid.  You shouldn’t have to go through shit like that.  And it’s not right a bunch of pedos have your pics now to get their rocks off too,” he said.  “We’re supposed to be a family here, and I know their moral compass is really fucked, but you don’t do that to family.”

You nodded and neither of you said anything for a moment.  Clint tossed you one of the swords and you caught it easily.  Clint was thankful for that at least.  Being naturally coordinated would take you further with this than his training would on its own.  You looked up at him and offered him a small smile.  “Thanks, Clint.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it,” he said.  “Gotta get good first.”

He took a stance with the sword in front of him.  “I’ll show you a routine and then I’ll go through it slowly with you.  Then you can try it alone and I’ll correct what you’re doing wrong.”

You nodded and Clint started.

He stayed training with you until the bell for dinner was rung.  There would be a show in an hour after that so he’d have to quickly change because he was usually the opening act these days.  You had been focused hard during the training and Clint was surprised how quickly you were picking things up.  You didn’t have the routine down perfectly, but if he went through the moves slowly you could follow along with him just fine.  If you continued to improve like this, you’d be sparring within a couple of weeks.

Clint just had to figure out how to train you, think of a way to keep training you, keep his own routine fresh, work you into that routine, and have time for a personal life.  He sat down at the bench next to Barney while you went and sat with Zelda and the other animal acts.  Zelda immediately started talking to you. The two of you began talking animatedly as one of Zelda’s python’s circled its way down the snake charmer’s arm and onto the table.

Eden came out of a tent with Tiboldt, the circus’ ringmaster and leader.  After scanning the table came she came to sit with Clint.

“What were you doing with the Ringmaster?”  Clint asked, accusatory.

He had trust issues.  He knew it but found them a little hard to keep under wraps.  Jealousy was big for him - maybe a psychologist would say it had to do with his father’s abuse and the fact he bounced around foster care, making him think himself unworthy of love - but Clint had never been to see one, so all he knew for sure was he didn’t trust Eden not to run around on him.

“Working,” Eden said simply and ran her hand down Clint’s spine.  “You jealous, baby?”

“No,” Clint huffed, and Barney began laughing.

“Sure you aren’t,” his brother taunted.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, Clint,” Eden assured him.  “I only have eyes for you, and no one is allowed to touch me except you.”

Clint looked at her, his eyes traveling up the tattoos on her neck to her perfect face, framed by her long dark curls.  She leaned in and teased her lips over his and he pushed forward, capturing them and kissing her passionately.  Barney made a gagging sound beside him.

“Get a room would you?”  He teased.

Clint pulled back and pulled a face at his brother.  “Would if I could.”

Eden laughed softly and turned Clint’s face to hers again.  “Don’t be jealous.”

“I wasn’t,” Clint lied.

“What did the kid want?”  She said.

Clint looked over to you.  You were laughing but there was something about the way you held yourself that told him you were still on edge and ready to fight if you needed to.  He didn’t trust Jacques, and he didn’t trust Eden to keep the secret well enough to stop it from getting back to Jacques.  If Jacques found out that Clint was training you, not only would you end up having to pose for photos to keep your spot in the circus, but Clint would be in a world of trouble too.  Jacques had once promised Clint he’d never beat him, and while it had never happened, there were times where Clint was sure it was a close call.  “Just had an idea about doing a routine with me,” Clint said.  “I think she wants to get out from behind the scenes?”

“Her?”  Eden asked, looking over at you.  “What talents does that little shit shoveler have that she can possibly make your act any better?”

“Just being my target,” Clint said.  “You know, the girl on the board.  She’s small enough, it’d work.”

“I could do that for you,” Eden said, running a long nail along his jawline.  “Imagine that?  The two of us sharing an act?”

“If you were part of my act no one would be looking at me,” Clint said.  “Besides, you know Tiboldt wouldn’t agree to that.”

She wrinkled her nose.  “I suppose you’re right.  And I suppose it’s good the little brat should start earning her keep.”

“Yeah,” Clint said with a frown.  “It’ll be fine.  All she has to do is not be shot by me and that’s mostly on me.”

“And you and I both know how good you are at hitting the right spot,” Eden teased.

“Seriously, you two,” Barney said, grimacing.  “I’m trying to eat.”

Clint smiled but it was a distracted smile.  One he wore to cover up the turmoil of his thoughts.  He’d learned a lot of things while at the circus, and among them was if he played friendly and dumb - people underestimated him.  He got up and wiped his hands.  “Better go get ready for the curtain call.  See you in a bit.”

Eden looked up at him startled.  “Okay, baby.  See you then.”

Clint scowled as he wandered off.  Most of the time he was just used to how fucked up everything was here because it was his normal, and much less fucked up than what he came from.  Then there were times like this where it hit him like a truck and he wondered if he’d ever really get free of it.

// NEXT

[thenamesseven]

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: A bit of angst....And Jaehyun being Jaehyun ^^’

A/N: Here’s another chapter! I just wanted to thank you all for all the support this story is getting! Every comment and like encourages me to keep going with it, I’m really glad you are all liking it so much! Anyways, I won’t entertain you more, hope you enjoy today’s chapter!

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Focused on the book in your hands, you were absolutely distracted by the plot that was just getting better and better the more pages you read. The two main characters were finally starting to figure out their real feelings towards the other, something you’ve been waiting for since a couple of previous chapters. Unfortunately, it was also the perfect moment to get interrupted, you always had to stop reading in the best moments, it was as if life hated you enough to not let you read the good chapters in peace.

You let out a soft sigh when you heard a few knocks on your door, your eyes scanning the page you were currently in fast enough to have a slight idea of what was going to happen before forcing yourself to close the book, slightly disappointed that you wouldn’t get to read the entire chapter. A second round of knocks pushed you up and away from your chair, dusting off your already clean clothes before you walked closer to the door, opening up with a small smile thinking it would be Mingi who was waiting for you there.

“Hey Min-” The words got caught in your throat when you noticed your assumptions had been wrong and unfortunately, Mingi hadn’t been waiting for you there. The smile on your lips twitched a little, getting slightly tense but staying there so none of the new visitors would feel uncomfortable or unwelcomed, you were here to make sure they were healthy and felt well after all. “What happened?” You asked as soon as you realized the inmate that had been brought was hurt, an awful bruise forming on his right cheek, near his jaw.

“There was a fight during lunch, nothing serious went on but it’s protocol that we at least take the inmates here after it so you can determined whether they’ve been seriously hurt or not”

“Alright, let’s take a look then” You said smiling once again, ignoring the intense staring you were getting from inmate...1965. Something about him wasn’t right but you just couldn’t place your finger on what it was since you didn’t even know him. However, when the guard didn’t stay outside and made his way into the infirmary too, you guessed he wasn’t one of the inmates you could trust. Whatever he did to get in here or have done during his stay, earned him the dangerous label.

“Ah, Yeosang, no need to stay in here” The inmate said confidently, glancing over his shoulder as he walked closer to the stretcher you had in the room “(Y/N) and I are on friendly terms here” The smiled he directed towards you tensed up your muscles, you smiled back at him though, letting him know he was getting under your skin would probably encourage him to make his behaviour worse.

The officer, whose name was apparently Yeosang, looked between you and the inmate, not really knowing what to do. You were perplexed to say the least, if he was even considering listening to the one he kept behind bars, then this guy was nuts. “Jaehyun, if you pull the same shit as last time…” He warned, ignoring the surprised look you gave him as he stared at Jaehyun. “We all got in trouble because of it”

“I’ll behave, I promise” Jaehyun replied, sitting down on the stretcher, his legs dangling from the side as he watched you curiously. “I would never hurt Jongho’s friend, after seeing how he got when we mentioned her, laying a hand on her would be like digging my own grave” Seeing how you slightly perked up at the mention of his name, Jaehyun smirked “At least not yet”

If bringing up Jongho was some kind of strategy to distract you from the fact that you’ve just seen how an officer had obeyed an inmate’s order, it definitely worked. The mention of your best friend was enough to drag your eyes away from Yeosang, missing the curious glint in his eyes as he walked out of the infirmary to leave you alone with Jaehyun. You still were standing besides your desk, keeping some space between the two of you, not knowing if it was a good idea to approach him or if it would be best to keep some furniture in the way in case he decided to try something.

“Should have known though, your friend does have a short temper when it comes to people he cares about” Jaehyun’s smile only got bigger, his head tilted in curiosity as his feet swang back and forward. If it wasn’t for the orange clothes covering his skin, the tattooed knuckles and the cold atmosphere in the room that set all your alarms awake, you would have found him adorable, attractive even.

“Who doesn’t?” You asked in return, rolling up your sleeves as you approached him. Standing away from him would only give away you were scared and that’s the last thing you wanted “We all have weak spots” Maybe saying that was a mistake, in fact, assuming you were one of Jongho’s weak spots was an error. You didn’t even know where the two of you stood right now, what kind of relationship you had....Just because he smiled at you once didn’t mean things were the same as back then “I mean, sensitive subjects, you know?” You tried to correct, hands almost trembling as you collected some cotton and disinfectant to clean the bruise in his face, but it was too late, Jaehyun was already smirking, delighted by the way he was making you blurt things out without thinking too much about it.

“Is he a sensitive subject to you?” He asked when you turned around to face him, you arched one of your eyebrows, the confidence in your face was incredibly fake but if he bought it you weren’t going to complain about it “I mean, we’re all just pretty curious, you don’t see somebody’s best friends working here everyday” You shrugged, placing the stuff you needed on the stretcher besides him, standing by his side.

“What do you want to know? That we went to high school together?” You questioned back at him, meeting his eyes for a brief second before you put your gloves on, focusing on getting some cotton from the package.

“Ah Jongho said that already” He shrugged, not really interested in that kind of conversation “Did you two ever dated?” You shook your head, reaching out to brush the cotton bathed in disinfectant against his damaged skin, doing it as well as you could which wasn’t easy since the position you were in wasn’t comfortable at all.

“No, we were just really good friends” You answered honestly, back in those days, there were a few times when you had been extremely close to ask him out but Jongho had always shut you down gently before you even voiced the question. He probably wanted to keep you out of his style of life, he knew you would have never belonged to the streets where he grew up and instead of pulling you down into that darkness with him, Jongho kept pushing you out of it still keeping you close enough so he wouldn’t drown in it.

“You two keep saying that but I have the feeling there’s much more to it than what you’re letting us know” Jaehyun scoffed, moving his cheek away when it started stinging. Thanks to the stretcher and his height, you were struggling a little to properly clean the wound, you weren’t the tallest person around and everytime he moved away, you arms wouldn’t be able to reach his face. He noticed this, an idea popping up in his mind quickly. “(Y/N), you can get closer, I don’t bite, you know?” He asked with a smirk, turning his head to look at you.

“It’s okay, I’m good here” You replied, truly uncomfortable with the sudden attention you were getting from him.

“Ah but you’re not doing a really good job in that uncomfortable position, you’ll hurt your back” Before you could say something, Jaehyun reached out and grabbed one of your wrists, pulling you in between his legs so the two of you could be as close as it was possible. Your faces were inches apart now and you weren’t sure if he was able to hear the way your heart was pounding against your ribcage in absolute fear. He leaned back to get a look at your entire face, playfulness bathing his lips “See? Now it’s so much more comfortable for you, isn’t it?”

You only nodded, not really trusting your own voice at that moment, your eyes avoiding Jaehyun’s as you kept yours glued to the bruise on his cheek you were trying to disinfect. An unsettling silence fell upon the both of you, although it was painfully obvious you were the only one feeling afraid in the room. Jaehyun kept watching you curiously, a hint of a smile in his lips and his mind wandering to God knows where as you did your job.

“So you and Jongho are friends?” You decided to ask back, you could already sense that they were far from being friendly to each other but you wanted to see how Jaehyun would react when he was the one being interrogated.

“More like acquaintances” He corrected you without hesitation, easily answering. Obviously you weren’t some professional cop and he was skilled enough to know when to give details and when to stay quiet.

“You met each other here?” You pushed, trying to get some more information of their relationship.

“Kind of” Jaehyun shrugged, moving his eyes away when you started applying some ointment on the bruise, it would avoid his face t moro get more swollen “Our gangs have never been on friendly terms so we knew about each other before meeting in here” You hummed nodding, not even blinking when he casually mentioned their gangs didn’t get along.

“And you guys are enemies because…?” You asked looking up at him, actually surprising him a little for being so upfront about it. Jaehyun definitely thought you would have been too scared to ask something like that.

“We’ve always had a little bit of a competition going on, you know” He said smiling amused by your curiosity, eyes watching as you took a step back and started getting rid of your gloves. However, when you were about to walk away in order to throw them into the bin, his hand trapped your wrist once again, pulling you back against his body “Always snatching their territory….Their things away from them” Although his words hadn’t mentioned you, there was a voice in you mind screaming for you to push him away, to not let him touch you or treat you that way because he was definitely hinting you were one of those things he was talking about. Now that Jongho had shown interest in you, Jaehyun was interested too. “Although I have to say we’re much better, more experienced when it comes to certain things, you know?” His breathing ghosted the sensitive skin of your neck, your muscles getting rigid, you were too scared to even try to push him away.

“Jaehyun, stop” You tried to sound determined, strict enough to act as if his behaviour wasn’t affecting you in the slightest but your voice was quietly trembling, your body had unconsciously started shaking as you felt how his hands slipped down the curve of your hips “Or I’ll shout”

“Yeah, it’s not like Yeosang would do much about it” He scoffed, pressing his lips against the sensitive spot underneath your ear, making you whimper quietly “You shouldn’t have come (Y/N), your dear friend won’t be able to protect you in here” You felt his smile against your skin, his fingers gently digging into your flesh “You’re either with me or against me in this prison and I think you’re smart enough to know which side to choose”

You leaned back to look into his eyes, the determination in his eyes scaring you even more than the words that have slipped past his lips “Yeosang!” You called out his name, keeping your eyes on Jaehyun’s, not breaking eye contact “Jaehyun is done here”

After saying that, the inmate let you go, allowing you to move away from him and finally discard the gloves you’ve been wearing into the trashcan nearby. He jumped down the stretcher right as the officer accompanying him entered the infirmary, if he noticed the tense atmosphere between the two of you he chose to say nothing about it.

“Everything’s fine with him?” Yeosang asked, glancing at Jaehyun as he stood besides him.

“Yeah, his face might swell a bit more tonight but nothing is broken or seriously damaged” You replied, avoiding to look at Jaehyun but not missing the smirk that was still present in his face. “What about the other inmate? Doesn’t he need to be checked on?” You asked, ignoring the amused chuckled that left the inmate’s lips, maybe it had been a bit of a stupid move to ask about Jongho but you couldn’t help but me slightly worried about him.

“I don’t think he’s allowed to come out of his cell now” Yeosang said and if it wasn’t for the way his face instantly turned serious and his body tense, you would have believed his words without getting suspicious about it.

“Didn’t you say it’s protocol that both of them get checked? One of his knuckles could be broken for all I know” You asked back, crossing your arms on your chest. Jaehyun leaned against the wall, eyes darting from Yeosang to you, clearly entertained by the silent argument that was taking place between the two of you.

“He looked pretty fine to me” Jaehyun intervened, catching your attention once again.

“I don’t see you being the medical staff here though” You replied, fear going away, not afraid to go against both men.

Another silence settled between the three of you, almost as if Yeosang or Jaehyun were waiting for you to crack under the weight of their stares and ask for forgiveness or back off with your petition of checking Jongho. However, when none of that came, Yeosang was the first one to give up.

“Fine, get whatever you need and follow us” He instructed, opening the door of the infirmary to walk out with Jaehyun “You can check him up in his cell”

“This will be fun” Jaehyun muttered  laughing, under his breath, walking out right after Yeosang did.

Jongho was laying in his cell, back pressed against the mattress and arm covering his eyes as he tried to ignore the way his stomach growled in hunger. He hadn’t been looking forward to today’s lunch because of who had cooked it, but a bunch of hours had to pass before dinner came and since he was grounded, locked in what was his home and what would be for a few more years now, the hunger he felt increased with boredom. His only available option had been sleeping but as soon as he closed his eyes he remembered the words Jaehyun had mouthed to him before he had been guided to the infirmary.

‘I’ll be gentle with her’

If he fucking touched you…

“I’ll assume he’s not going to hurt you since you two know each other apparently, I’ll leave you in here while I drop Jaehyun off with the other inmates, if the cameras see any funny business going on then the two of you will be in trouble”

Yeosang’s pissed off voice mixed with the sound of his cell being unlocked caught his attention, Jongho removed the arm that he had kept on his eyes to look at what was going on, when he suddenly saw you standing there. Smiling all triumphantly and clearly ignoring the subtle way Yeosang was threatening you and how Jaehyun seemed to be eating you up with his eyes, if he wasn’t so surprised about your sudden visit, he would have definitely deck the both of them for looking at you like that.

“Are you doubting my professionalism?” You scoffed, walking into the cell as you held a small bag in your hands, trying to hide the excitement you were feeling and focusing your frustration on the officer who seemed to be less than interested in being nice with you “The hypocrisy in this place is unbelievable” Yeosang was definitely shocked when you indirectly called him out, he had been the one leaving you alone with an inmate that should always be watched, he had also tried to ignore the fact that Jongho could have needed some medical assistance...He was not the right person to doubt your work ethics.

“Just do your work, I’ll be back as soon as I get Jaehyun back in the dining room” Nodding at his words, you watched as he locked the cell again and started walking away, pushing Jaehyun down the corridor the three of you had come from.

When you turned around to look at Jongho, he was still sitting there, his hands gripping the bed sheets as if he was holding himself back from standing up and pulling you into the biggest and strongest hug ever. Your eyes met, like they did back when you saw each other at the basketball court, and your entire world stopped.

You simply froze.

You had been waiting years for this moment to come, counting the days and hours until you could finally be face to face with him since the day he was sentenced and yet, now that it was happening, you couldn’t bring yourself to say something, to do something. You could only look down at him while memories of that day filled your mind.

Beggining of a flashback.

When the judged called to an end Jongho’s trial and the police officers who had been standing besides the door approached him, you shot up from your seat, ready to run to him and fight whoever you needed to, to keep the handcuffs they were carrying away from his hands.

Jongho opened his arms as he saw you approaching and he instantly welcomed you in his embrace, pulling your body as close as he could to his chest while his nose brushed against the top of your head. This would be the last chance he would have to touch you, to smell you, to feel you and he would take every single second he had before he got taken away.

“Miss you need to let him go” Somebody behind you ordered but stubborn you only shook her head and kept her arms around him as tightly as she could. Jongho couldn’t be going to prison, that just couldn’t happen “Miss”

“Angel” Jongho looked at the officers, his eyes pleading for them to let him deal with you, it would break him if he forced the two of you apart, if the last time he saw you would be tainted by violence “Look at me please” When you shook your head, he smiled sadly, reaching up to pat your head “(Y/N), I have to go”

“No” You insisted, voice breaking as you held him tightly against you. The officers behind you sighed impatiently but you couldn’t care less at the moment “It’s not fair, it is not fair”

“You are safe right? That’s what matters the most to me” He whispered, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead “I’ll back before you even notice I’m gone”

“I’ll visit you” You proposed, starting to let go of him when the officers behind you warned you again “I’ll go see you as much as I can Jongho” He shook his head.

“I don’t want you to see me there, that’s not a place for you” He said determined, the tone of his voice saying he would never change his mind about it “I’ll visit you as soon as I’m out, send me letters, send me pictures...That will be enough” His words broke your heart even more, tears started rolling down your cheeks when he tried to smile for you again “I’ll be fine”

“It should be me th-”

“I did it” He interrupted you before you could bring unwanted memories from the night that changed it all “And I’ll pay for it”

“Jongho I-”

“You focus on school, get those perfect marks you were aiming for and get that scholarship you couldn’t stop ranting about” He instructed, you could see his eyes were getting watery when somebody forced his arms back, the sound of handcuffs closing around his wrists making you dizzy “You’ll do it, you’ll become the best nurse in the world” His fake chuckled muted your sob, he was seconds away from breaking down but he would be strong for you, he needed to “And I’ll be so damn proud of you Angel, I already am”

“We need to get going” The officer said, gently pushing Jongho forward so you would move out of their way.

“Don’t let this drag you down (Y/N), I’ll be fine” He quickly said when someone moved you to the side, you just were too focused on Jongho to realize Wooyoung was the one ready to hold you as soon as your knees gave out on their strength “And don’t forget you will always be on my mind” He smiled one last time before they pushed him harder, forcing him to walk away before you could say or do something else.

Wooyoung wrapped his arms around your body, slowly kneeling down onto the floor with you as you cried and screamed for the officers to bring your friend back. They never did though and you were left there, feeling like half of your soul had been stolen away.

End of the flashback.

“You’re back” Jongho’s weak yet full emotion voice brought you back to the present, his eyes still scanning you as if he couldn’t believe you were there with him. It had been so long since the two of you were in the same room, since he had been able to have your company “You came” This time, tears inevitably started falling down his cheeks before he could stop them. Jongho never regretted what he did for you but he knew he had lost so many hours, so many days he could have spent by your side that it made him incredibly sad. “You didn’t listen to me in the end” He tried to joke, laughing as he reached up to wipe away the tears.

“When did I ever listen to you?” You asked laughing, ignoring the way your lower lip quiver as a bunch of upcoming sobs got stuck in your throat.

“Never” Jongho replied smiling, standing up slowly as if he thought that if he moved too fast you would run away from him “That’s why you’re my Angel, that’s why you will always be it”

You hadn’t realized how much you’ve missed that nickname until you heard it from his lips for the first time in years and even though you were locked in a cell, in one of the worst places in the world with Jongho besides you, back with his smile, you felt as if you’ve finally found your place.

It felt as if you were back home. Back where you belonged to.

Right into his arms.

Taglist: @guess--monster​ @cometoceantrenches​ @lovelyvitamin​ @daintysan​ @t-tbinnie​ @shyshybabyy​

[gamergirl929]

The Medic and The Forward (Alex Morgan x Reader)

It’s easy for the USWNT to get distracted by the newest medic, a tall, muscular and tattooed woman, but a forward in particular takes an interest in the new medic, and that forward is Alex Morgan. 

Nothing but complete and utter fluff 

“So, we’re meeting our new team medic today?” Christen asks Vlatko who gives her a nod and a smile.  

“She should be here any minute.”

Milliseconds later a ball intended for Kelley ends up rolling passed her, her attention focused elsewhere.

“Where’d you go O'Hara?” Emily shouts her eyes widening when she realizes what had drawn her attention.

The group of women all freeze, eyes raking down your impressive physique, and tattoo covered biceps that flex as you tighten your hold on the bags full of what they guess is equipment.  

Tobin lets out a low whistle that has Christen nudging her friend while Kelley’s eyes rake down your body.  

You stretch your arms above your head, your shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of ink covered skin at the small of your back.  

“We could use some popcorn right about now...” Sonnett mumbles, earning a slap on the chest from not only Lindsey but Alex as well, who can’t seem to take her eyes off of you.  

You eventually turn around, mouth opening to greet the USWNT players, but you still, eyes wide when you realize their eyes are already on you.  

“Uhhhh...” You swallow hard, your eyes darting around nervously as you rub the back of your neck.  

“Hi.” You grin, waving with your free hand.  

The women almost immediately smile back, Alex’s cheeks flushing pink at the smile that stretches across your face.  

“There you are.” Vlatko walks towards you with a grin and you hold your hand out, giving the man a firm handshake.  

“Girls, this is Y/N, and she’s going to be a member of our medical team for the foreseeable future, please, make her feel welcome.”  

You turn back to the group of players with a toothy grin as they all make their way towards you.  

"It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”  

It’s only when they get to you that they realize you’re nearly as tall as Vlatko and just as tall as Sam.  

“You are very large, are you sure you’re a medic?” Sonnett asks, earning a smack on the chest from Kelley.  

“If not, it’s going to be really awkward when I come out on the field to help you during a match and have no idea what I’m doing.” You smirk and the girls laugh, though one laugh in particular stands out to you among the rest.  

You quickly find the source of the laugh, your eyes locking with a pair of bright blue orbs accompanied by a dazzling pearly white grin.  

It’s when Alex’s cheeks flush that you glance away, embarrassed at the amount of time you’d been staring at the flawless woman.  

Vlatko claps his hands together, gathering everyone’s attention, though you can feel someone’s eyes on you every few seconds.  

“Let’s get back to practice girls.”  

At that, the women all make their way back on the field, but as you watch them go you see a pair of bright blue orbs on you, their owner making their way towards you with a grin.  

“I-I figured I’d introduce myself.”  

You hold your hand out to the pretty woman who takes it gently in her own, her handshake not even close to being as firm as Vlatko’s.  

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You grin, one the woman in front of you returns tenfold.  

“I’m Alex Morgan.”  

What the two of you don’t realize is that you and the beautiful woman in front of you have the remainder of the team’s eyes on you, a number of them accompanied by smirks.  

                                                            ***

“So, had to introduce yourself huh?” Kelley sends Alex a wink when the pair walk into their hotel room.  

“Shut up.” Alex grumbles, her cheeks flushing.  

Kelley suddenly slips around Alex with a grin, poking one of her cheeks.  

“You’re blushingggg!” She sings, Alex swatting her hand away.  

“Don’t make it a thing. It’s not a thing.” Alex flops down on her bed and Kelley rolls her eyes, scoffing.  

“Sure it’s not.”  

                                                            ***

It was totally a thing, so much so a thing that everyone had started to notice and it was only your first day.  

“So, Y/N...” Kelley starts, smirking at Alex whose eyes narrow.  

“Uh, yeah?” You give her a smile.  

“You single?” Kelley asks and Sonnett inhales loudly, choking on her drink considering she was just taking a sip.  

You slap her on the back until she gives you a thumbs up and you smile.  

“One life saved already.” Kelley laughs as she ruffles Sonnett’s hair.  

“I wasn’t dying.” She grumbles and you shake your head, smiling as you look down at your food.  

“Yes by the way.” You glance up with a smirk, eyes darting to Alex for a millisecond before they’re back on Kelley who’s looking at you in confusion.  

“I am single.” You smirk a brow arched and Kelley grins, sending a wink Alex’s way when you aren’t looking.  

Alex’s cheeks as per usual when she’s around you flush as she rolls her eyes, but still she can’t help the way her heart skips a beat knowing that you’re single.

                                                            ***

Your skills were unfortunately called upon in the first game, when none other than Alex Morgan went down, grabbing her ankle.  

“I can still play.” She says as you gently take her ankle in your hands, frowning when the woman winces.  

You shake your head, turning towards the bench where Vlatko is standing and unfortunately for Alex, using your index fingers to give the universal sign that Alex is in need of a substitute.  

“Come on, let’s get her off the field.” You nod to the other medics.  

“Y/N, I can play.” She grumbles as she sits up and you give her a smile, your brow slightly arched.  

“Are you always going to be this stubborn?” You ask and she shrugs, bottom lip slightly jutted out.  

If you hadn’t had to do your job, you would’ve immediately caved at the sight of her pout.

The fans cheer as you, along with another medic help Alex off the field, the forward leaning heavily on you as she limps to the sidelines.  

Christen gives Alex a pat on the back before she gets the okay to head onto the field, she being the one to replace Alex.  

Delicately, you lower Alex to the ground before the woman lays on her back.  

“Now if anything hurts too much, let me know okay?” You say as you gently place Alex’s cleated foot in your lap.  

“I will.” She frowns as you, gingerly manipulate her ankle.  

“I know you’ve had issues with your ankle before, that was in 2014 correct?” You ask and Alex smirks.  

“Oh? Been checking in on me?” She asks and you blush, gently stretching her ankle out.  

“I like to know all my team’s past injuries.” You shrug and Alex hums as she props herself up on her elbows.  

“Okay, give me... One of Kelley’s.” Alex smirks and you hum.  

“Left ankle.”  

“Impressive.” She smirks and you shrug.  

“Just want to be able to do my job to the best of my abilities.” Your brows furrow in concentration and Alex smiles.  

“Think you could grab me some ice?" You shout over Alex’s shoulder to another medic who nods before scurrying off.  

You glance up, smiling at the forward.  

“We’ll get some ice on this and keep an eye on it, okay?” You grin gently rubbing her ankle to alleviate some of the pain, making Alex let out a relaxed sigh.  

“Sounds good.”  

                                                            ***

The next few games are injury free, thankfully, that is until Kelley takes an elbow to the face and is busted open.  

“Please don’t try and kill her when you go back out.” You say as you assess her injury and she rolls her eyes.  

“No promises.” She growls and you shake your head with a grin.  

“Please don’t I don’t want to have to carry a body off the field, dead weight and all.” You grin and Kelley laughs.  

“Alright, alright.” She laughs. “Since Alex likes you I won’t do it.”  

You gasp loudly.  

“You don’t like me?” You place a hand over your heart and Kelley rolls her eyes, backing towards the official who will let her back onto the field.  

“Not as much as Alex does.” She winks.  

Your cheeks flush bright red.  

“What do you mean?” You ask and Kelley turns to you shrugging.  

Before you can say another word, the official lets Kelley out on the field the woman grinning your way before taking off, a cloth in her mouth to stave off the bleeding.  

You hum as you take a seat beside the team, your mind racing as you wonder what Kelley could’ve meant.  

                                                            ***

“Why isn’t anyone practicing?” Alex says as she walks out onto the field, she soon realizes what exactly everyone is distracted by.

It seemed as if before every practice you were getting a workout of your own, mainly what you were doing right now was using the goal post to do some pull ups.  

Alex can’t help but stare at your newly exposed skin, one of your legs covered in a tattoo sleeve, the other spotted in multiple tattoos.  

The muscle-tee you’re also wearing gives her a great view of your tattoos and the thought crosses Alex’s mind of how it would feel to trace those tattoos, but before it can drift any further than that she gives her head a shake, turning to her teammates.  

Alex’s eyes go wide when she realizes Sonnett has produced a bag of popcorn from out of nowhere, she, and Kelley feasting on it as they stare at the new medic.  

“Where did you even get that?” Ali asks, looking Sonnett up and down before looking behind her in search of where she could’ve hidden the bag.

“Stop it.” Alex grumbles at Sonnett, she and Kelley glancing at one another with a smirk.  

“Sorry, forgot for a second Y/N’s off limits.” Sonnett winks only for her eyes to widen a millisecond later.  

Suddenly, you appear from nowhere and pluck the bag of popcorn from her hands.  

“You know you shouldn’t eat this.” You give the two women a pointed look and they both share a glance.  

“It was Sonnett, she brought it here.” Kelley points at the blonde who gasps loudly, but in no way tries to deny it.

“Still, it’s bad for you.” You shrugs as you take a handful of popcorn and shove it in your mouth.  

“Hey!” Kelley shouts, eyes wide.  

“What happened to ‘you shouldn’t be eating that it’s bad for you’?” Sonnett says, doing her best to imitate you.  

You shrug, chewing on the mouthful of popcorn as you turn to Alex.

The forward grins as you send her a wink before making your way down the field, eating another handful of popcorn.  

“Won’t let us eat popcorn, but she can.” Sonnett grumbles as she and Kelley make their way towards the bench behind you.  

Sonnett gets her ‘revenge’ or so she thinks during practice when she accidently sends a ball your way.  

A number of the players yell and you glance up, catching the fast ball with one hand.  

You toss the ball to the closest player, Christen who grins.  

Vlatko calls in a break, considering a number of the players are already gravitating towards you questioningly

“Okay... How...?” Tobin motions to the ball and you chuckle.  

“I was a goalie in college, but I quit to practice medicine.” You smile as Christen tosses you the ball, which you easily catch with the palm of your hand.  

“You’re pretty impressive, you know that?” Alex grins and you blush, turning to her with wide eyes and a bashful smile.  

“Nah...” You shake your head as you rub the back of your neck nervously.  

“Wait, where did you go to college...?” Megan asks, eyes narrowed.  

You clear your throat, glancing away, mumbling under your breath.

“Didn't quite catch that.” Ashlyn smirks and you sigh.  

“I went to Yale.” You shrug, eyes flicking to Alex who rolls her eyes playfully.  

“And you don’t think you’re impressive.”  

                                                            ***

“We really have to stop meeting like this.” You smile as you help Alex stretch one of her legs, it was time for the second half of the game against Canada, and Alex had been subbed out, Christen Press taking her place.  

“How else would I talk to you?” She grins as she leans back on the grass and you shake your head as you inspect her ankle.  

“I mean it has been ages hasn’t it?’” You ask and Alex nudges you with her other foot playfully.  

You snicker.  

“Sit still Morgan.” You laugh as you manipulate her ankle.  

Alex watches you work, watching as you delicately maneuver her ankle around.  

She can’t help but stare as you work, the feeling of your hands on her light and subtle, but also comforting as well, much unlike she’s used to feeling when dealing with her bad ankle.  

The two of you, completely lost in one another entirely miss the way your teammates are watching you as well as the fans, some even with their phones in hand as they snap pictures.  

                                                            ***

“OH MY GOD!” Kelley screams from her bed and Alex jumps, as does Allie who’s also in the room with the two of them.  

“Jesus Wookie.” Allie places a hand on her chest, but when she sees what It is that made Kelley so excited, she squeals.  

“What is wrong with you two?” Alex asks as she takes Kelley’s phone, eyes widening when she sees a picture of herself and a certain team medic.  

“But seriously, they couldn’t have come up with a better name than Med!Forward?” Kelley scoffs, but Alex is too busy staring at the picture of you and her, the two of you brightly grinning at one another as you chat before you turn your attention to Alex’s ankle, though her attention remains on you.  

“Oh god, I wonder if Y/N has seen this.” Alex whispers under her breath.  

Kelley and Allie share a glance.  

“We hope so!” They shout at the same time and Alex rolls her eyes, wondering how you were handling the USWNT fandom.  

                                                            ***

“Med!Forward seriously?” You whisper under your breath, your cheeks flushed.

You look through the pictures, smiling when you see the way Alex looks at you when you aren’t looking.  

On accident, you hit the heart icon on Twitter and your eyes go wide.  

“Shit!” You whisper yell, your phone slipping out of your hand.  

You roll over, trying to catch it, but before you can you fall of the bed with a thud, hitting your head on the corner of the table beside your bed.  

“Ow.” You groan, grabbing your head.  

A sudden knock on the door has you slowly sitting up, wincing as you rub your temple.  

“You okay in there?” You hear a familiar voice and can’t help but smile.  

You move to your feet with a groan, your back popping as you move towards the door, you pull it open without looking through the peephole and you smile a smile reflected right back at you by Alex, but it immediately vanishes when she looks at your head.  

“You’re bleeding.” She whispers and your brows furrow as you touch your temple, your fingers coming back a bit bloody.  

“Eh, it’ll be fine.” You shrug and Alex rolls her eyes, pushing passed you.  

“You’re a medic, you should know you have to clean it. Get your ass in here.” She grabs your wrist, pulling you into the room before kick the door shut behind you.  

Alex guides you towards the bed before heading towards your first aid kit. She’s back moments later disinfectants and bandages in hand.

“How’d this happen?” She asks and you clear your throat, your cheeks flushed.  

“Well, I uhhhh...” You wince softly as Alex dabs a cotton ball full of alcohol against your bleeding temple.  

“I fell out of bed and hit my head on the table.” You say in one breath, closing your eyes so you can’t see Alex’s face. She lets out a giggle and you open one eye, chuckling at the way she tries to hold back her laughter.  

“Shut up.” You grumble, that only making Alex laugh harder.  

You roll your eyes, but can’t help but laugh as well, the woman’s laughter contagious.  

The laughter eventually dies down, leaving Alex to tend to your wound.  

You smile watching as the woman’s tongue pokes out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrates.  

“All done.” She smiles as she finishes, covering your wound delicately.  

“My hero.” You smirk and she rolls her eyes playfully.

“Who knew the forward half of Medic!Forward would have to take care of the medic?” You smirk and Alex blushes.  

“You saw that?” She asks nervously and you chuckle.  

“Kelley keeps tagging me in posts.” Your brow arches and she rolls her blue orbs.  

“I’m going to kill her.” She mumbles under her breath.  

Your eyes dart around the woman’s face, your smirk splitting into a massive grin.

“No offense, but is that your scary face?” You snicker and Alex rolls her eyes as she smacks your chest.  

“See if I help you from bleeding out next time.” She laughs and you roll your eyes.  

“That’s a stretch. Who’s the medic in this relationship here?”  

Alex’s eyes widen and her cheeks flush blood red.  

“Shut up.”  

                                                            ***

More pictures of this ‘ship’ continued to surface, and it soon became a thing among the team, the group of women teasing you every chance they got.  

Though you had to admit, the more pictures that surfaced of the two of you, if you were a fan, you’d ship the two of you together too.  

But you weren’t a fan, you were the team’s medic and to be honest, you still shipped the two of you together.  

“Where’s your head at?” You jump, glancing up and smiling when you see Mallory, the young woman taking a seat on the grass beside you.  

“In the clouds, as usual.” You shrug, Mallory letting out a laugh.  

“Of course, it’s in the clouds, you’re so tall.” Sonnett comments as she falls gracefully onto the grass beside you.  

You glance up at the sound of Alex’s laugh, the sound making your heart skip a beat and the tips of your ears flush.  

“You should tell her how you feel.” You glance up, cheeks blood red as you stare at Kelley, who takes a seat beside Sonnett, a water in her hand.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mumble nervously, earning a nudge from the woman who’d just sat beside you, that person being Allie Long.  

“Come on, it’s obvious.” She shrugs and you blush, your eyes darting to the woman who’s running across the field, ball at her feet. You smile softly when she sends the ball in on goal, slipping it passed Ashlyn.  

“See, totally smitten.” Allie mumbles and you roll your eyes, moving to your feet.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You shrug as you walk away, turning around with a glare when Kelley throws her empty water at you.  

                                                            ***

It was at the game against Ireland that Alex made her feelings know, well at least, everyone else knew, besides you.  

Alex first feels a twinge of jealousy when she notices a few of the Ireland’s players eyes drifting your way, raking slowly down you, appreciating your muscular stature.  

Their leering makes her blood boil, so much so that a few of the women beside her take notice as her posture goes ridged.  

The anthems end, and Alex stomps towards the sidelines, immediately drawing your attention.  

“Hey.” You whisper, placing a hand on Alex’s forearm.  

The forward looks up at you with a smile, though you can tell something is bothering her.  

“You okay?” You ask, your thumb dragging back and forth across her forearm and she nods.  

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” She asks and your eyes narrow.  

“Jan!” Kelley shouts, waving her towards the huddle and you nod as Alex scurries off without a single goodbye.  

You frown, crossing your arms across your chest, wondering what could’ve happened to make the woman’s mood sour.  

                                                            ***

Alex’s sour mood become painfully apparent a little way into the first half when she lands a not so legal tackle on one of the women who’d been leering at you before the start of the game.  

The yellow card is something that surprises not only you and everyone on the bench, but some of the fans as well, if Alex Morgan was anything, she was calculated, she wouldn’t make an illegal tackle so painfully obvious.  

The tackles don’t end there, and though Alex has two goals under her belt by the end of the first half, she’s only narrowly avoided a red card, much to the shock and confusion of the other forwards around you, Christen and Mallory.  

“What do you think is bothering her?” Christen whispers and you shake your head as you walk with them towards the locker room.  

“I SAID DROP IT KELLEY.” You hear a shout from in the locker room, quickly realizing that it belonged to a very angry Alex Morgan.  

The door slams open as she pushes passed you, head down as she stomps down the hallway.  

You step into the locker room, brow furrowed in confusion.  

Kelley and Allie are staring at the door motionless, the other members of the team in the locker room, staring at one another in shock.

“What happened?” You ask, receiving nothing but silence in response.  

When you realize you’re not going to get an answer from the women in the locker room, you take off out of the locker room, heading down the hallway that Alex had run down.  

The soft sound of sniffles is what leads you to her, and when you find her, arms wrapped around her knees as she hugs them to her chest, your heart breaks.

Silently, you make your way towards her, her red rimmed orbs flicking to you instantly.  

“May I sit?” You ask and Alex sniffs, nodding.  

You take a seat beside her, remaining silent as the woman continues to sniffle, tears still running down her cheeks.  

You want nothing more than to rid her cheeks of those tears, but you remain silent as you slip an arm around her middle, pulling her close.  

Alex closes her eyes, her head gently resting on your bicep, considering you’re too tall for her to rest her head on your shoulder.  

“What’s wrong?” You whisper softly, finally breaking the silence.  

Alex pulls away from you and you briefly chastise yourself for opening your mouth, that is until Alex straddles your waist.  

Your eyes double in size when red rimmed blue orbs lock with yours, the woman’s eyes darting around your face.  

“Al?” You whisper, your hands settling on her waist as her eyes flutter shut.  

She leans forwards, her hot breath on your face as she leans her forehead against yours.  

“I can’t do this anymore.” She whispers, gently cupping one of your cheeks.  

You unconsciously lean into her touch, much to Alex’s satisfaction.  

“Can’t do what?” You whisper and Alex swallows hard.  

Your eyes flutter open, locking with Alex’s watery red eyes. You quickly realize that her bottom lip is trembling and your heart aches as you cup her cheeks.  

“Whatever it is Alex, it’s okay... I’m here.” You whisper, wiping her tears away with the pads of your thumbs.  

It’s in that moment that everything you’d been feeling clicks into place, because that’s the moment that Alex’s lips meet yours for the first time.  

You inhale softly, but with little to no hesitation, kiss her back.  

The action must surprise her, because she gasps against your lips her lips stilling for a moment before she again reciprocates.  

The kiss is soft, probably the softest kiss you’d ever shared with anyone. If you could only experience one kiss for the rest of your life, it would be this one, because your first kiss with Alex Morgan is magical.  

It isn’t rushed, it’s slow and passionate, the two of you spelling your feelings out against one another's lips, feelings you’d kept hidden since the first day the two of you’d met.  

Though eventually, and reluctantly, you do part.  

Your eyes remain shut, as do Alex’s the two of you afraid that if you open your eyes the spell will be broken and you’ll both awake in your hotel rooms, alone with the phantom feel of the other’s lips on your own.

Hesitantly, your eyes flutter open, and much to your excitement, you don’t wake.

You don’t wake because this is reality.  

You’re still sitting in a random hallway in the arena, Alex Morgan in your lap and the taste of her salty tears on your lips.  

You gently rid her smooth skin of her falling tears until they eventually tapper off, the woman in your lap sighing softly at the feel of your fingers on her skin.  

Finally, blue orbs flutter open, locking with your Y/E/C orbs.  

Alex swallows hard, a lone tear rolling down her cheek, that you quickly wipe away with the pad of your thumb.  

You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before pulling back and kissing away her newly fallen tears.  

Alex ducks her head down and buries her nose in your neck, taking a deep breath, inhaling your scent that immediately settles the nervous churning in her stomach.  

You close your eyes, holding the woman close, something you never thought you’d be able to do.  

“I’m sorry.” Alex whispers and you shake your head, turning to press a kiss to her cheek.  

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for... But why were you so upset?” You whisper and Alex humorlessly chuckles.  

“I was...” Alex’s voice drops, so low that you can’t tell what she’s saying even though she’s so close to your ear.  

“Come again?” You ask, giving her a squeeze and she sighs.  

“I was jealous.”  

Your brow furrows as you pull away from her, your eyes locking with hers.  

“Of what?” You ask, confused and Alex sighs.  

“They kept staring at you and I just...” Alex growls and your brows arch.  

“So that’s why you’ve been trying to kill the Ireland team.” You smirk and Alex rolls her eyes, cheeks flushed.  

“Maybe.” She shrugs and you smirk.  

Alex smacks you in the chest and you chuckle, your grin so wide it nearly splits your face in half.  

You glance down at Alex’s lips, the butterflies in your stomach flapping their wings, the butterflies in Alex’s stomach doing the same.  

You lean in, unable to hold yourself back as you go in for another kiss, your lips pressing gently against Alex’s the woman in your lap only happy to reciprocate.

“So, first off, congratulations.” The two of you jump apart looking around until your eyes settle on basically your entire team, who are watching the two of you with massive toothy grins.  

Alex groans loudly as she hides her face in your chest and you grin, chuckling as you hold her close.  

“Second off, we need to head back out onto the field.” Allie points over her shoulder, sending you a wink that makes your cheeks flush pink.  

“Come on.” You whisper into Alex’s ear, pressing a kiss to soft skin behind it before bumping your nose against it.  

Alex slowly pulls back, her blue orbs locking with your Y/E/C orbs.  

Even with an audience, Alex leans forwards, pressing a kiss to your lips, the kiss accompanied by the sound of wolf whistles and clapping.  

And even with an audience at the end of the game, Alex is running across the field and leaping up into your arms, her arms around your neck and legs around your waist as she presses a kiss to your lips.  

You didn’t know what the future held, but you did know that becoming a medic for the USWNT was the best thing you ever did.  

[noladyme]

Chess. Chapter 4

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

TW: violence, blood, language

I was taken to a shower room. With no other exit than the door we came in through, it seemed the Tweedles felt it would be safe enough to leave me alone in there.

I showered for an eternity. The water was hardly warm, and it smelled moldy in the room, but I didn’t care. I let the water run over me, scrubbed every inch of my body with a bar of soap on a string. I ran my hand down my injured ribs, and winced at the pain. Remembering Flags hand touching that same spot but an hour before, I smiled to myself. His touch then had been gentle, and my mind wandered into a more pleasant direction. A bang on the door interrupted my train of thought.

“Finish up!”, a voice called. I turned off the water.

A clean set of clothes had been laid out. Another tank top, this one not cut into pieces, a clean set of underwear, and a pair of orange pants, with much too long legs for me. I folded them up, to right bellow my knees, and finally put on the slip-on shoes that completed the outfit.

Calling out, I let the twins know I was ready.

After eating the mac’n’cheese and jello that was pushed through the hatch in the door, I slept deeper than I ever had, on the small cot that had appeared in my cell, while I was being questioned – or recruited, I wasn’t sure which it was. The last thing I saw before drifting of, was loose wire hanging from the corner of the ceiling, where the thermal camera had once been. I wasn’t being watched anymore.

---

I woke up to the sound of the door being unlocked; I sprang up from where I had been laying, fully awake, and on high alert. Two guards stepped in to the room. Not Flags men.

What the fuck is this?, I panicked, and took a stance, preparing for a fight.

Grabbing me by the wrists, they spun me around, locking my arms behind me. They held me like this, as Griggs stepped into the room, and looked me up and down.

“You look even better clean, puss”, he leered at me.

I lifted my knee, and stomped down onto the foot of the guard to my right. Letting go of my arm, he yelped; and I swung my arm, punching Griggs in the face.

Covering his mouth with a scream, he then slapped me hard, making my ears ring.

“You goddamn bitch”, he said, blood running from his busted lip. I laughed at him; and made to get another hit in, when the second guard holding me, kicked me behind my knee; making me lose balance, and topple over.

Laying face down on the ground, someone put a knee on my back, holding me down, as my ankles and wrists were put in cuffs. Spewing all of the worst profanities I knew, I then twisted my neck, biting at the guard holding down my shoulders. I narrowly missed him, and another hand held my head down, making my forehead meet the concrete.

“Watch it, dumbass. We need her whole!”, Griggs spat. He pulled a sack over my head.

They carried me like this, down the corridor, as I screamed and cussed. This isn’t supposed to happen, I thought. Where’s Flag? Waller, even?.

I hadn’t officially accepted Wallers “offer” of joining her circus. Was this payback for my little stunt yesterday? Was I being sent back to Gotham? Or were they taking me somewhere to end my suffering.

A sharp pain in my ribs – from a boot, I figured – made me consider whether euthanasia wouldn’t be a kinder fate.

A door opening and closing behind us. The temperature changed. The air was damp, and the sack on my head stuck to my skin, making it difficult to breathe.

I heard the sound of a gate opening. “Freak transport”, Griggs voice called. Laughing.

Another door. I was made to stand, and my feet were uncuffed. I heard the sound of hip hop music. More musical torture? Metallic clanking, and I was pushed forward harshly, almost falling over.

“Get that shit of her”, Flags voice said. Thank God.

“Careful. This one has sharp teeth”, Griggs said; and someone pulled the sack of my head.

Blinking, adjusting to the light; I examined the room. About 100 yards deep, 50 yards wide. From the looks of it, an old indoor basketball court. My calculations turned out to be right, as a tall, dark man, wearing the same outfit as my own, was shooting hoops at the end of the room, never missing one throw. He turned in my direction, and looked at me, then Griggs busted lip, and laughed to himself.

In one corner a large figure, wearing a hoodie, sat with his back to me, watching BET on a small flat screen. In another, a man covered from head to toes in tattoos – I could tell, as he wasn’t wearing a shirt, or shoes – was doing pushups.

Flag walked up from behind me, staring me down.

“Welcome to the gym”. He took out a set of keys, and uncuffed my hands. “I can handle it from here”, he said to Griggs.

“Are you sure, sir? She seems cranky”, Griggs answered, and put his hand on the gun in his belt.

“I’m sure, asshole. If we need anything, I’ll let you know. Now get”.

“Dick”, Griggs muttered, and walked out the large door we had come through. The metallic sound started, and then made a last large clank, as it shut behind him and his guards.

Flag examined my face, and stroked his fingers across the small cuts on my forehead, from my former spat with the guards.

“You need to be careful, kitten. I won’t always be around; so if you piss them off again, I might not be able to help you”.

“You weren’t there to help me this time, and I made out fine on my own”, I retorted.

Flag moved his hand down to my belly, looking at the blood on my top, lightly touching it.

“I can see that”, he said, removed his hand, and continued. “You ripped your stitches”.

“I’m fine”, I pouted.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is our newest team member”, Flag called out. “Y/N Y/L/N. Also known as Chess”.

The man with the basketball, turned around, and made a final throw over his shoulder; and the ball went straight into the hoop, then bounced away across the floor.

The tattooed man stopped his workout, and walked towards us.

“Croc, did you hear me? Get your ass over here”, Flag shouted.

The large figure turned of his television, got up, and walked towards us, pulling the hood off his head. For a second, I was tempted to run, or even do something as embarrassing as hide behind Flag. The tall mans face was covered in what looked like scales; and it took me a hot second to realize that was his actual skin.

Killer Croc. I’d heard of him.

“Don’t worry, cher’. I ain’t gonna bite”, he growled at me; showing his terrifying teeth, in what I guess was supposed to be a smile. In spite of his appearance and reputation; I instantly felt calmer, from his use of the cher’ endearment. It reminded me of Sammy.

Sammy. “What happened to the owner of the club?”, I asked, voice shaking.

“He’s fine”, Flag answered. “I bumped him on the head a bit, when he tried to stop me from going after you. But I left a large tip for him. He’ll be able to make next months payment to whichever scumbag is using their protection scheme on him”.

I exhaled, relieved.

“And my cats?”, I remembered, panic returning.

“Your neighbor has them. Don’t worry”.

Good. Selina was sweet, though a bit kooky; and she seemed to love cats, more than even I did.

“All your loose ends are tied up, and as long as you behave, they’ll stay that way”.

I raised my eyebrows at him. “You are using my cats to blackmail me?”, I asked.

“Yes”, he answered shortly, and smirked.

By now, the three men were gathered in front of me.

“Where the hell is Harley and Digger?”, Flag called.

“Harley had feminine things to do”, basketball guy answered, before being interrupted by a shrill voice.

“Flag! The british guy was watching me on the toilet again!”. A curvaceous but lean woman appeared in a doorway to my right. She was dragging the rugged looking unicorn man, by his ear; storming towards us.

“I’m Australian, you crazy bitch”, he yelped; and she yanked him by his ear to the ground, putting a foot on his neck.

“Whatever. Do it again, and I’ll punch you in your kangaroo pouch!”, the woman hissed, and kicked him in the chest, before walking over to us. Once she saw me, her face instantly went from murderous to gleeful, and she reached out her hand to greet me.

“Harley Quinn. Pleased to make your acquaintance”, she said; grabbing my hand, and pulling me in to a tight hug.

Surprised, I simply patted her back, and then pulled away.

“You smell nice”, she whispered in my ear, before stepping back to join the others.

I was suddenly terrified and ecstatic at once. The queen of Gotham. It was like meeting actual royalty; if that royalty was crazy as hell, and had access to weapons.

They stood there; a motley crew of deadly weirdos, smiling and/or grimacing at me.

“Diablo. Deadshot. Killer Croc. Harley Quinn. Captain Boomerang. This is Chess”.

Basketball mans – correction, Deadshots – eyes lit up.

“You’re the invisible girl”.

“That’s her”, Flag answered.

“Can you talk for yourself, mami?”, asked the tattooed man – Diablo.

“I always thought a woman should be seen and not heard”, said Digger.

I smiled, disappeared, and the next thing he knew, he was back on the floor, wincing in pain, from my knee on his back. I leant towards his ear, still invisible.

“Are you sure about that?”, I purred, and dug my nails into the skin of his neck.

He yelped, turning around quickly; and I fell back, landing on my butt, before I sprang up, to stand next to Flag. Only then I made myself visible again.

Digger scrambled to get to his feet, and stepped towards me; a sneer on his face.

Flag stepped in front of me spreading his arms, as if protecting me. What is up with this guy?, I thought.

Deadshot stepped forward to face Digger, and Croc took a hold of his arms, holding him in place.

“Stay cool, man”, Deadshot said. “Looks like we’re going to be working with this lady now, so you need to back of”.

Digger settled down, but not before shooting me a look I couldn’t figure out whether was angry, or strangely aroused.

Flag turned to face me. “That wasn’t very smart”, he smiled.

“What? He has a mouth on him”, I answered.

“The last guy who used that sentence, lost his spot on this team in a pretty bad way. The spot you are now going to fill”. He went to stand next to me again, folding his arms across his torso.

“What happened to him?”, I asked.

“We don’t talk about it”, Harley pouted. “It was kind of gross. Speaking of which! Did you get yours yet?”. She sprang forward, putting her hand on my neck, as if searching for something.

“That’s the next step”, Flag said. He reached for his belt, and pulled out a strange looking gun.

None of the crew in front of me would look me in the eyes. Only Deadshot furrowed his brow, and kept eye contact with me; then pushing his lips into a thin line, before mouthing sorry.

Flag put the gun to my neck, and before I had time to react with anything more than a gasp, he pulled the trigger, and a sharp pain – there one second, gone the next – spread throughout the skin around the wound he’d made.

He let me go, lowered the gun, before meeting my eyes with a pained look. “It’s official”, he said, and put the gun into its holster.

I stood there. Mouth agape. Confused.

Deadshot stepped forward, patted my shoulder once, and then walked back towards the basketball.

“Welcome to the Suicide Squad”, he called out, made a shot, and the ball went into the hoop again.

Tag list:

@gloriousgam3r

@hyp-oh-critical

[boyswhofellout]

Bad Boy! Ben Hardy: A Fanfic

So after months of radio silence on the status of a Ben Hardy fanfic I promised, here it is!

Based on this beautiful piece of work by the icon @young-and-youre-crazy

Ship: Ben Hardy x Reader (Y/N)

Word Count: 6056

Warnings: SMUT, cursing probably, smoking, drinking

          Living with your parents after high school had its perks. You didn’t have to pay rent, and there was always a nice meal on the table, and all your bills were paid for. The downside, however, was that they still acted like you were their little girl. You had just turned twenty and was home from college for the weekend. You didn’t exactly want to come home, but your mom had been asking when you’d be back to visit next and had expressed how much she and your father missed you.

           “Honey?” you heard your mom call from downstairs, “Dinner is ready.” You sighed and pushed out from the desk you sat at, laptop open, and made your way downstairs. You landed on the ground floor and made your way towards the dining room, taking the seat you always sat in.

           “Why don’t you say grace, dear?” your father asked. You sighed, said the little prayer, then dug into dinner.

           “So, how is college life? Meet anyone special lately?” my mom asked. Here we go again, you thought, the questions about when you planned on finding that Mr. Right. It was an endless circle of the same stuff every time you came home.

           You swallowed your food, along with whatever venom you wanted to spit, and shook your head, “No, mom, no special guy friends for me. I’m really just focusing on my studies for now,” you told her. Any other parent would be pleased to hear it, but not your mom.

           “Well, I’m glad honey, but you know you’re only in your prime for so long and I just don’t want you to look back one day and realized you’ve missed your window to find that right guy to take care of you,” she said, the same thing she always said. You carried on the night playing out the same conversation over and over. You’d counter with the fact that you didn’t need a man, or anyone for that matter, to ‘take care of you’ and your mom would smile and patronizingly tell you that she knew, but she’d feel so much better knowing you had someone to do so anyway. As always, your father would stay quiet as a mouse, offering no help to either side of the conversation.

           By Sunday you were more than ready to leave back to campus. You were already on your way back, having left out around ten that morning with an excuse that you remembered you had homework to finish. The ride back, you chewed on your lip and thought about what your mother had said, what she always said, and even though you knew it was bullshit, it still ate away at you.

 ~~~

            Nothing said a good night like a bottle of alcohol and some friends to go out with. Sundays didn’t usually have parties since most people used Sunday to recover from drinking Friday and Saturday, but this was a special occasion; it was some frat guy’s twenty-first birthday. Your friends dragged you out to this party and, even though you protested at first, you were glad they had. It was the most fun you’d had all year, and the night was just getting started.

           You needed a breather, so you ascended the basement steps and made your way towards the living room. You found no open spots, so you decided to step outside to the front porch. The chill of the night air hit you instantly, and you thanked the many stars you had made this decision. There were only a few people on the porch, two of which left back inside together after a moment. You leaned against the concrete half-wall of the porch and caught your breath.

           “You alright?” you heard a boy to your left ask. You looked over and, at first, only saw the glow of the cherry at the end of a cigarette. As your eyes adjusted and you moved towards him a bit, you noticed more of him. He was clad in a leather jacket, his jawline as sharp as a knife and the blond curls on his head concealed his forehead, “You look a little out of breath is all.” You detected an accent, British if your muddled mind was correct.

           “Dancing will do that to ya,” you told him, “Just needed a moment to cool down is all.”

           “You smoke?” he asked, offering you his cigarette.

           You held up your hand, “Not that I don’t,” you told him, “And not things offered to me by strangers in the dark.”

           The man chuckled, “That’s pretty wise,” he said, “But I’m Ben, what’s your name?”

           “Y/N.”

           “There, now we aren’t strangers anymore,” he chuckled.

           You laughed as well, “Fair enough.” You located the phone that vibrated in your pocket and saw it was a text from your mom. You opened it to see a screenshot of some dating app advertisement and, in your intoxicated state, considered chucking your phone across the lawn in frustration. Instead, you just sighed heavily and locked the phone, sliding it back in your pocket.

           “Something troubling you, love?” Ben asked.

           You scoffed and folded your arms, leaning against the concrete wall Ben sat on, “My mother is driving me insane,” you confessed.

           “Isn’t that what moms do?” Ben countered.

           You shook your head, “No, you don’t understand. It’s like she’s stuck in the ’50s. She’s convinced I need to find a man to take care of me; like I’m some sort of child incapable of taking care of myself. If it were up to her, I’d drop out of college and focus solely on dating,” you told him. It felt good to rant, you hadn’t done so to your friends because they had heard the same thing many times before. But here, confessing to this stranger, it felt nice to really get it off your chest, “I just wish I could do something, anything, to get her off my back.”

           “So,” Ben said, “You want to piss off your parents is what you’re saying?” he asked.

           You sighed, “No…,” you said, “…Yes? I dunno, I just want my mom to treat me like I’m my own capable adult, that I’m all grown up and don’t need someone to take care of me.”

           Ben took a drag of his cigarette, “Bring me home,” he offered.

           You barked a laughed, “Come again?”

           “Take me home to meet them, tell them I’m your boyfriend. They’ll see me and wish you’d never date again,” he explained.

           “Why, 'cause you’re some perfect gentlemen or something?” you asked.

           “No, I’m the exact opposite. Or, I can be to them,” he said, “I’ve got it all, all the things no parent wants their little girl to date. Tattoos, leather jacket, cigarettes, I even ride a motorcycle. I’m the poster child for bad boys, that’ll get them off your back for a while.”

           You looked at Ben, mostly in disbelief that he was even suggesting it, but as your muddled, intoxicated mind thought more on it, the more perfect it seemed, “Let’s do it.”

 ~~~

            The next morning you woke up with a headache, your head pounding as you sat up in your own bed. You hadn’t really remembered getting home, but you did remember drinking shot after shot sometime during the night. Your roommate, the friend you’d gone out with, lay fast asleep in her own bed, but you noticed she had put a water next to you as well as the bottle of pain meds; at least, you assumed it was her because you certainly didn’t remember doing it. You took the meds, drank the whole water bottle, then turned over and fell back asleep.

           The next time you woke up was much better. After taking a moment to rub sleep from your eyes, you rolled over and grabbed up your phone. When you unlocked it, it opened to a saved contact that you were sure wasn’t there yesterday; it read ‘Bad Boy Ben’ as the contact name. You raised an eyebrow at it and tried to remember if you had exchanged numbers with anyone last night.

           “Hey,” your roommate said as she entered the room, her toothbrush and toothpaste in her hand, “Sleep okay?”

           “Yeah, fine,” you said, “Hey, do you remember us meeting a Ben last night?” you asked.

           Your friend smiled, “How could you not? He was a total hottie and he seemed pretty interested in you,” she said.

           “So the contact name ‘Bad Boy Ben’ is presumably him?” you asked.

           She laughed, “Oh yeah, that’s him alright. That was what you called him all night. Pretty sure you even introduced him to other people like that. He just let you, too.”

           Just then, your phone dinged and you checked it to see a text from your mom: ‘Did you see the picture I sent last night? Could be a good app to have on your phone!’ you read the text and rolled your eyes. Then it all came back: your conversation with Ben, how he had proposed the idea of bringing him home to mom. You opened your texts and typed up one to Ben: ‘Hey, hoping you remember me. We met last night?’

           The response back was almost immediate: ‘How could I forget?’

          You found yourself smiling at his words, then typed: ‘Still want to help me?’

          ‘Well, can’t say I’ve got much better to do so yeah, why not? When do we start?’

          You thought for a moment, then replied, ‘What are you doing next Saturday?’

 ~~~~~

          Saturday came sooner than expected and you actually felt a little nervous. You had been texting Ben here and there as the days went by, but you were still just getting to know each other and now you were faced with an hour-long car ride with him. You packed your small bag for the weekend and then sat around your room waiting for the text from Ben that said he was outside; he had insisted on driving and you couldn’t turn down saving gas so you’d agreed. Your phone dinged and you checked it to see that Ben was waiting outside.

         You exited the building and saw him immediately. He was parked right outside your dorm building and was leaning against your ride; a motorcycle. That was hardly noticeable, however, now that you really got a good look at Ben. You hadn’t seen him since the party, and when you met it had been mostly dark and you couldn’t make out many details at all. Now, as you approached him, you took it all in. He was clearly a bit older than you, maybe by two or three years, and he had on the same leather jacket as when you met him, and his black skinny jeans and black biker boots matched. His hair was messy, probably from removing the helmet that sat on the front seat of the bike, but it was blonde and curly and you had to stop yourself from picturing your fingers running through it.

         “Good afternoon, sweetheart,” he greeted as you stopped before him. He was just finishing up a cigarette and he crushed the butt under his boot before looking back up at you, “All set?”

         “I think you’ve outdone yourself already, Ben,” you told him with a chuckle, “They’ll freak when we pull up on this.”

         Ben laughed, “Go big or go home, right, love?”

         “I guess so,” you mumbled as you looked over the bike. You hadn’t really ever been on the back of a motorcycle, but you didn’t want to let on that you were all but terrified of them.

         “I can take your bag,” Ben said and held out his hand. You handed over the bag and he put it in a little trunk on the back of the bike, then returned to you with a second helmet in hand, “Can’t take off without this.” You nodded and slid the helmet over your head and began fiddling with the strap, “Here,” Ben said, “Let me.” His hands took over the strap of the helmet and you tried your best not to look or feel awkward as he stood so close to you.

         When you were all set, Ben set to putting his own helmet on and then mounted the bike. He offered his hand to you and, after a second of hesitation, you took it and let him help you onto the back, “You’re gonna want to hang on tight, sweetheart,” he told you as he started up the bike. You did as he suggested and wrapped your arms around his torso in a decently tight grip as he took off.

         It wasn’t nearly as bad as you imagined. In fact, you quite enjoyed it. You had given Ben the address of your parent’s house before you had left, and since he had a mount for his phone on the front it made following the map all the easier. Before you knew it, places you had grown up around began to appear and you knew you were close to home. Ben made the final turn and your house came into view.

         “Well,” Ben said as he shut off the bike, “This is exactly the kind of place I pictured you lived.” He offered you his hand and you once again took it to accept help getting off the bike. He followed suit and helped you with the strap of your helmet again, then took off his own.

         “I think that’s an insult?” you questioned with a smirk. Your neighborhood was nice, as was the house you grew up and lived in, “Yeah, I feel insulted I think.”

         Ben laughed, “Not an insult, just an observation. Now I understand the need to piss off your folks,” he told you.

��        “Okay, so in advance, I’m gonna apologize because I’m sure I’ll need to. They aren’t exactly… good at hiding their disdain for people so-“

         Ben held up a hand, “Sweetheart, I’ll be fine. I knew what I was signing up for when I said yes,” he assured you, “Now, how serious do you wanna play this?”

         You pondered for a moment, “Screw it, let’s go as serious as believable.”

         Ben smiled wide, “Go hard or go home, indeed,” he said approvingly, “I’m afraid I haven’t a ring to give you, though,” he joked.

         “Maybe next time,” you joked back as you walked towards the front door. You entered the house and walked towards the living room when you assumed your parents would be, “Mom, Dad, I’m home!” you called as you walked in.

         You heard movement and your mom appeared before you quickly. You had told her you had a special someone you wanted her to meet just a few days ago, so she was clearly eager to see who you had brought home. Her wide smile faded quickly as she got a good look at Ben, “Honey,” she said nervously, “Who is this?”

         You smiled and leaned into Ben, your hand coming to rest on his chest, “Mom, this is who I told you about. This is Ben, my boyfriend,” you told her. You fought the urge to laugh when her face paled a little; clearly, your plan was working already.

         “Oh,” she said, “Oh, lovely,” she fixed her face into a fairly obvious fake smile and extended her hand to Ben, “How do you do, Ben?” she asked.

         Ben had his arm slung around your shoulder so his other hand was free, but he placed it in his jacket pocket instead of shaking her hand, “Yeah, I’m alright I s’ppose.”

         Your mom looked between you and Ben in disbelief, then turned and made her way towards the living room, “Honey,” she called to your dad. You and Ben followed behind, but not before you threw a wicked grin to Ben and he grinned back in return.

         “Dad,” you said as he got up to greet you. His reaction was equal to that of your mom’s, though his face seemed to pale quicker than her’s, “Meet Ben.”

         Your dad walked over to the pair of you and gave Ben a long and hard once over. He cleared his throat and offered his hand to Ben, “Good to meet you, son,” your dad said.

         Ben once again rejected the hand and shrugged, “Yeah, sure. Hey,” Ben said, “Where’s the toilet, I gotta take a piss.” Now you really fought the urge to laugh, he sure was good at pretending to be an ass and you were just eating it up.

         After a moment of initial shock, your mom shut her slightly ajar mouth and pointed towards the downstairs bathroom, “Right over there, first door on your left.”

         “Great,” he said and walked off.

         Once you heard the door shut, your parents turned to you, “Well he seems… Y/N what on earth are you thinking?” your mom asked.

         You played innocent and frowned, “What do you mean, mom? You’re the one that’s been on me about finding a man to take care of me, so I did. Ben’s got plenty of experience with women, he takes good care of me.”

         “Don’t you think he’s a bit… old for you?” your dad asked.

         You shook your head, “He’s a senior, I’m a sophomore, we’re not that far apart in age.”

         “He just…” you mom began, “Where are the manners on that boy?”

         “He’s got a thing against parents, it’s nothing personal, mom, I swear,” you told her. You heard the bathroom door and smiled at Ben as he approached you again.

         Ben wrapped his arm around your shoulders again, “Miss me?” he asked you in a low voice.

         “You know it,” you replied. He smiled at you and made a move you didn’t see coming; he kissed you. It was clearly unexpected, but you weren’t exactly complaining. It was a good kiss, incredible even, and lasted way longer than it should have in front of your parents. When Ben pulled away, you quickly composed yourself and turned back to your parents, a smile on your face and pretended like that was completely normal, “Right, well, I’m gonna show Ben around,” you told your parents. Without a word from them, you turned and led Ben out of the living room and around the house.

         Upstairs, you showed him to your room and he set down his things where you instructed. You closed the door and turned to look at him as he finally shrugged off the leather jacket. He draped it across the back of your desk chair and then turned to you, “Was the kiss too far?” he asked, though you could tell he was amused.

         You shook your head, “No, just unexpected is all. I think it certainly made a statement,” you told him.

         He nodded, “Just lemme know if I’m going too far,” he said and leaned against the desk. He looked around, “So, this is your room, huh? Weird, I expected more… pink… and stuffed animals,” he joked.

         You laughed and playfully pushed his shoulder, “Shut up,” you muttered.

         Ben crossed his arms and looked at you, “So where exactly would you like me to sleep tonight?”

         You frowned in thought, “Well, I think we’ve already crossed past the point of no return, and having you sleep on the couch and me in my room might give them some hope that you’re not entirely bad, so I say you and I sleep here. I can make up something on the floor or whatever if you’d rather be more comfortable not like…” you said, suddenly feeling awkward, “Sharing a bed or whatever.”

         Ben pursed his lips, “Well, if me being on the floor is what is comfortable for you than so be it,” he told you.

         “I mean,” you said, “I don’t really care either way. The floor isn’t exactly comfortable, and I have a pretty sizeable bed so I mean if you want, not that you have to or anything, but like, if you wanted we could, I don’t know, share the bed?” you stumbled over your words nervously.

         “Whatever you wanna do is fine with me, sweetheart,” he told you, “You want me on the floor, that’s fine. You want me to share the bed with you, that’s fine as well.”

         “Y/N?” you heard your mom call from downstairs. You turned to look towards the door and then back at Ben before holding up your pointer finger and then exiting the room.

         “Yeah, mom?” you asked from the top of the steps.

         Your mom stood there at the bottom of the stairs and seemed to sigh in relief, “Dinner will be ready soon,” she said. You nodded and then returned to your room.

         “Do you think they thought we were fooling around?” Ben asked with a chuckle.

         You laughed, “I’d almost bet my life on it,” you told him.

         “We could stomp around, make some loud noises and pretend like we are,” he said with a smirk.

         “Maybe later tonight, but I like the way you think,” you replied, “Come on, let's get down there.”

 ~~~~~

            “Goodnight, mom,” you called as you shut the door to your bedroom. You turned to find Ben was in the middle of stripping off his shirt, “Oh, sorry,” you said and quickly turned back around.

           You heard Ben chuckle behind you, “It’s alright, just changing into my sweats, love. I can turn round while you change if you like,” he said, “Oh, and you can turn around now.”

           You turned to see he was sat on the bed, no shirt on and a pair of sweatpants on. You caught yourself looking too long, so you jumped into action to grab your bag and pull out your sleep clothes, “That’s alright, I have to brush my teeth and stuff anyway so I’ll just change in the bathroom,” you said and quickly exited the room.

           When you reentered your room, Ben was lounging on the side of the bed you’d told him you didn’t sleep on, “Ready to really make your parents hate me?” he asked as you approached the bed.

           You giggled, “You were serious about that?”

           He shrugged, “I don’t see why not. Could be fun.”

           You crawled into bed next to Ben and looked at him for a moment, “You’re crazy, you know that?”

           He grinned, “Of course I do, but that’s what makes me so charming,” he said cheekily.

           You laughed this time, “Oh, is that what it is?”

           “Well,” he said and shrugged, “I have other good qualities of course. For example, I’m an excellent listener,” he said, “And I actually have fantastic manners when I’m not pretending to be a total jackass.”

           You chuckled, “I thought my mom was gonna faint at dinner. Picking at your plate while my dad was saying grace was an excellent touch.”

           It was Ben’s turn to chuckle, “I thought it might be. I’ll admit, I was worried it was a little too risky. I mean, I wasn’t sure if you would get upset with me for that.”

           You shook your head, “Not at all. Not really religious like my folks.”

           You two fell into silence for a moment, awkwardly looking at each other and then quickly looking away. “So,” you said, “Ready to freak out my parents once and for all?”

           “You’re really sure about this? I mean, I’m one hundred percent on board but it’s a pretty big statement, ya know?”

           You looked at him in thought, your lips pursed and said, “I’ve been getting the same speech my whole life basically. I practically grew up hearing that I needed a nice man to take care of me, that I shouldn’t solely depend on myself and whatnot. For once, I’d really like to stick it to them, ya know? So I think a big statement is exactly what we need.”

           Ben nodded, “Then let's get to it.” You both smirked and stood up in the bed and began to gradually bounce in the bed. You smiled at Ben as the bed began to squeak.

           “Big statement?” Ben asked.

           “Big statement,” you confirmed. He gave you a wicked smile and then let out an incredibly sexual, and incredibly loud, moan. You were slightly taken aback just how… sensual it was, but pushed it aside and joined him. You had to admit, you felt incredibly silly doing so, but you let out a few pornographic moans and even threw in a dragged out moan of Ben’s name.

           “Come on, sweetheart,” Ben said louder than necessary, “Cum for me.” You had to fight off the laugh that was ready to erupt as Ben threw you a dopey smile.

           “Oh, Ben!” You called out, “Yes, right there baby!”

           “Grand finale?” Ben said softly. You nodded and the two of you let out one final loud moan. You collapsed back into bed panting a little from bouncing and trying very hard not to laugh your ass off as you and Ben caught your breath.

           “That was the best fake sex I’ve ever had,” Ben joked. You and he were laying on your backs looking up at your ceiling that was decorated with glow in the dark stars.

           You laughed softly, “Same here.” You were throughout amused with the situation, but that wasn’t actually what was at the front of your mind. What was, however, was just how much Ben’s fake moans had turned you on. Fake or not, his deep voice letting out guttural moans and saying your name in a sensual way had you clenching your legs together as you laid in bed.

           “So,” Ben said after a moment.

           “So.”

           “Guess we can get to sleep then. Can’t wait to see their faces in the morning,” he said.

           “Yeah,” you said, “Me either.” As you both laid there, you wondered if Ben was having the same thoughts that you were, “Well, goodnight.” You said and turned over to face away from him.

           “Yeah,” he said, “’Night.”

           You look straight ahead of you, the wall seemingly staring back, taunting you. ‘You have the hots for your fake boyfriend’ it seemed to tease. ‘You want to know what his real sex moans sound like’. The sound of Ben’s fake moans replayed in your head as you laid there. Your mind wandered, you wondered what his face would look like as he orgasmed, what his final moan would sound like. You wondered what his slender fingers would feel like on your bare skin, what they’d feel like inside you.

           You sighed and turned over in your bed, now angered at the wall that wouldn’t shut up. You turned right over to see Ben facing you, and your movement prompted him to open his eyes to look at you in question. You laid there, facing the most attractive person you had ever seen, and couldn’t help but let your eyes slide down to look at his lips. He caught this, of course, since his face wasn’t even a foot away from yours.

           “Y/N,” he said softly.

           “Yeah?” you whispered back.

           “I-“ he began, “Can I-“

           “Kiss me?” you asked. You didn’t even wait for any sort of response, “Please do,” you practically whined. His response was immediate; he placed his hand on the side of your face and brought you closer, his lips crashing against yours. It was passionate, it was hot, and it was everything you expected it to be. The kiss you two had exchanged in front of your parents was for show, there wasn’t any emotion behind it really, but this? This? It took your breath away. Ben took his hand away from your face and moved it further down your side and around to the small of your back. He used this new position to pull you even closer, which you didn’t protest.

           You didn’t protest so much that you took a bold risk and pushed Ben back a bit so that he was flat on his back, then you swung your leg over his body and hovered over him. You broke the kiss finally to sit up a bit and move your hair out of the way before leaning back in to capture him in another breathtaking kiss.

           You were full of bold moves, it seemed, as you broke away from his lips and began kissing along his jawline and down his neck, “Y/N,” Ben panted.

           “Tell me to stop if it’s too far,” you breathed against his neck.

           “Don’t stop, please keep going,” he begged. You smirked and nibbled a bit here and there on his neck, then trailed your kissed further south. You kissed down the ridges of his abs and stopped just short of his sweatpants band. “Keep going, keep going,” Ben repeated. You looked up at him and locked eyes with the pretty panting blond and gave him a small smile. You hooked your two pointer fingers inside the band of the sweats and dragged them down. You let out a soft moan when you saw he had gone commando; his dick sprang up and stood at attention, waiting for you. You licked your lips, biting your lip slightly before leaning in and taking the head of his cock in your mouth. He let out a much more real, much more throaty moan compared to his fake ones. The sound egged you on; you needed to hear more.

           You weren’t exactly very experienced, but you had gathered enough from your friends and from stories you read to give you a general idea of what to do. You slowly worked the member further into your mouth, working the parts you couldn’t fit with your hand. It was difficult, at first, to find a good rhythm while trying not to gag and still breathe through your nose, but once you finally got passed that it was easier with each bob.

           You were achieving your goal, too. Ben’s moans became more frequent and more audible as you went. His hand came up and tangled up your hair with his slender fingers, pulling it every so often when you hit a particularly sweet spot.

           “Sweetheart, Y/N, I-,” he huffed, “I’m so close.” You knew immediately where you wanted his load, and you made it clear when you picked up speed a bit. Ben was a moaning mess as you pulled him to the brink, his load exploding in your mouth as he let out a final, loud moan. You pumped his cock a few final times, ensuring you had gotten all of his cum, then pulled off with a sloppy pop. You wiped up around your mouth and crawled back up towards Ben to show him an empty mouth.

           “Christ,” he muttered, “You’re pretty good at that.”

           You smiled at him, “Why, thank you,” you said as you laid back down beside him and faced him.

           He seemed to get this look all of a sudden; it seemed sinister. “My turn,” he said. Before you could even comprehend what was happening, he had you flipped onto your back and was nipping at your inner thighs.

           “Good Lord,” you panted. Your inner tights were incredibly sensitive, and having Ben so close to the place you wanted him most made you even wetter than you were before. He was teasing you, planting kissed and small love bite to your tights, “Bennnn,” you whined, “I didn’t tease you much, don’t be mean.”

           He chuckled and threw his gaze up to look at you, “Sorry, sweetheart, can’t help myself. Love having you squirm under me.” He obliged, however, and quickly discarded your underwear. He parted your legs, held them apart as best he could with one hand, and with the other hand, he took his middle finger and slowly run it up your slit, parting your pussy lips. He collected some of the juices you’d accumulated and ran his slicked up finger up and down your cunt.

           “Bennnn,” you whined again.

           He chuckled, “All right, all right,” he said and drove right in. He ran his tongue from your hole all the way to your clit and you released a moan so sexual it surprised even you. He toyed around a bit, poking his tongue here and there to get himself familiar with what made you moan louder. When he finally decided he had found just the right spot, he flicked his tongue to verify. A jolt of pleasure ripped through your body and you gripped at Ben’s hair to ground yourself.

           Ben was a man in the desert without water and your pussy was a tall, cool drink of water. At least, that’s what it felt like as Ben vigorously flicked his tongue over your clit. It was intense, and you knew you weren’t gonna last nearly as long as you wanted to. You tried to fight off your orgasm, tried to ensure this heart-stopping sensation never ended, but it had been a while since your last orgasm and Ben was just so damn good.

           In just a few minutes, you were a panting mess, “Ben,” you managed to breathe out, “Ben, don’t stop. So close.” He seemed to pick up the pace if that was even possible, and seconds later you moaned out his name and came hard. You saw stars for a few seconds as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. You were pulling at his hair, moaning his name, but he kept going. You were so sensitive, so wrecked already, but god help you, you needed Ben to keep going, so you didn’t stop him. He licked you through your entire orgasm, and just when you thought he was done, he kept going.

           You moaned loud as he brought his hand up and easily slid two fingers inside. You were out of your mind, not a thing on your brain besides the intense pleasure Ben was providing right now. The fingers added something you didn’t even think was missing until they were there. And just when you thought ‘this is it, this is the best thing I’ll ever feel’, Ben curved his fingers and quickly found a spot inside you that you thought was just a myth; your G spot.

           Well, that second orgasm came faster than you ever imagined, but there you were, pulling on Ben’s beautiful curls with one hand while the other clawed at the bedsheet. You turned your head and managed to cover your mouth with a pillow as you screamed out in pleasure. Ben licked you through that orgasm as well. When he felt you had calmed a bit, he removed his fingers and finally removed his mouth from your core. You were dizzy, you were seeing more stars than before, and your breathing made it seem like you just ran a five-minute mile.

           You knew Ben had laid back down next to you, but your brain was still in shock and your voice seemed to had run away with your last orgasm. You took in a few deep breaths, began to gather your thoughts, and mustered up enough energy to turn and face Ben.

           “You alright?” he asked, his clean hand coming up to gently stroke your face.

           “That-“ you attempted, “There are no words. I’ve never experienced-,” you faltered, “That was incredible.”

           Ben chuckled, “Glad you enjoyed it.”

           “I never want to do anything but that for the rest of my life,” you said with a laugh.

           “Well, that can certainly be arranged.”

           “This is not how I imagined this night would go.”

           “Me either,” Ben said, “It's way better.” You smiled at him, “Do you need anything? I know that last one was pretty intense. Here,” he said and reached over to grab up a water bottle he had brought from downstairs, “You should drink some water.” You gladly accepted the water and took a few sips before passing it back to him.

           You smiled at him as he looked at you with soft eyes, then leaned in and planted a kiss on his lips. This one was much more refined than the others, much gentler and just as passionate. When you broke away, you cuddled up next to him and laid your head on his chest. “Goodnight, Ben.”

           “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he muttered quietly. You quickly drifted off to bed, comforted by Ben’s steady breathing and warm embrace.      

[fang-wolfsbane]

Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia: Inked Feathered Flame: Chapter 02: Tests

“Right. You’ll all be tested on how well you can control your quirk. There will be seven tests in total. The one with the lowest score will be expelled, so make sure you don’t fail.”

Akuriru’s stomach should have sunk. He should have been terrified the moment their homeroom teacher said that they would be expelled if they were in the bottom number of the added up results, yet for some reason his pulse wasn’t beating half as hard as he thought it would have. He felt for it against his neck like he had been taught to do in middle school, just to ensure that he was actually still breathing and not in some kind of coma like he originally thought himself to be.

One of the girls, Ochaco Uraraka, had questioned Mister Aizawa’s method, giving up her protest the moment he made a valid point of life as a pro hero not being fair in the first place.

He didn’t really care if he stayed in the hero course or not, at least not as much as he should have, but he had made a promise to Momo that he would try nothing less than his best after she had first admitted to him what she had done behind his back to get him into the course in the first place.

The tests themselves were rather basic, allowing the students to use their quirks to help them along. He had done fairly well, all things considered. Better than Izuku Midoriya was doing anyway. Neither of them had used their quirks to help them along, both relying on their bodies to naturally participate in the tests. He would have bet that they would have continued that way if it wasn’t for the surprise final test.

A simple ball toss with a modified distance meter belt wrapped around it. The blonde that had originally ‘disrespected the desk’, Katsuki Bakugo, was the first to demonstrate his throwing arm, earning an impressed crowd of admirers. One by one they each took the test, everyone earning a fair number of points.

When it was Akuriru’s turn, he stepped into the circle, holding the ball between his hands. He knew there was a probability that he was in the bottom three to possibly get expelled, so with a silent apology towards Midoriya, Akuriru rolled up the dark blue fabric around his right leg, enough to reveal his ankle and a black inked tribal tattoo of a bladed double-tipped scythe.

The collective number of gasps brought a smile to his lips. Fifteen years old and already sporting a tattoo. Almost like clockwork, stiff-armed glasses boy, Tenya Iida jumped in headfirst.

“Mister Aizawa, surely having tattoos is against school regulations! You cannot possibly permit a student to have something such as that visible on their body!”

Mister Aizawa had a hand resting on his hip whilst the other held a small device to track the distance the balls were thrown. His eyes slid over to Akuriru, tilting his head some like a predator sizing up his prey. For a moment Akuriru felt uneasy, thinking that he should rather lower the clothing back down and try to throw the ball normally instead.

“Your quirk is called ‘skin deep’, correct?” Mister Aizawa asked after a moment’s silence, long enough to make Akuriru feel a bit uneasy. Akuriru nodded, listening to the explanation Mister Aizawa gave his other students. “It’s alright Iida. When Iro was recommended to the school, he filled in an application to get his tattoo. His quirk allows him to manipulate tattoos of both allies and enemies by changing their form and making them physical objects for a short period of time. It’s almost like Aoyama’s naval conductor. Since there’s no guarantee that there will be someone with a tattoo nearby when Iro needs one, the principal himself has given Iro permission to get one so that he can actively participate in physical classes like the rest of you.”

“That may be, but it isn’t as flashy as my conductor though,” Yuga Aoyama hummed, holding his chin as if inspecting something that merely bored him as a courteous action for someone of the same class as he.

“Ah! My apologies Iro! I didn’t mean to assume you to be a delinquent!” Iida apologised, bowing in the traditional Japanese method. Akuriru waved his hand in response, trying his best to keep the twitch his face felt back. Showing irritation towards a classmate’s assumption wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He was only too glad that Mister Aizawa had explained how his quirk worked for him so that he wouldn’t have to.

“D-Don’t worry about it,” Akuriru reassured, turning his body forward in the direction he wished to throw the ball in. Taking a breath to calm himself, Akuriru focused on the shape of his tattoo, biting into his bottom lip in response to the stinging sensation that focused itself along the outline of the image itself.

Ever since gaining his quirk at age five, Akuriru had practiced on his father’s tattoos, the ones he had let him practice on. Those were all smudges on his father’s skin now. What Mister Aizawa hadn’t told the other students was that although Akuriru could physically manifest the tattoo, once it returned to its owner’s skin, the ink would start to distort some, losing shape the more he used the same tattoo. That’s why he had gone with a simple, easy to hide design for his own ink.

From the distance, Akuriru could hear some of his classmates discussing how cool they thought it was that he’d gotten permission to get a tattoo at his age. He smiled to himself, glad that the others at least thought he was kind of cool in a way. Not as cool as Bakugo, but close enough to earn even his curiosity.

Loosening the breath, Akuriru focused on the space before him, feeling each inch of the tattoo as it stretched itself to appear directly before him until it came clean off the skin, leaving a soft pink, almost lightly burned outline behind to go home to. The next step was easier, mostly due to years’ worth of practice finally being put into play.

Staring at the scythe, Akuriru watched as the ink stretched itself until it was as long as his arm, curving in on itself to form a baseball bat made of a solid form of pure black ink.

“Whoa, that’s so manly!” Eijiro Kirishima chirped in, causing heat to rise in Akuriru’s cheeks. For years he hadn’t shown his quirk to the people around him, mostly because there wasn’t someone with ink injected into their skin for him to use as a demonstration, so to him, receiving this much attention because of his quirk was something else. Something new. He wondered, was this how Momo felt whenever someone complimented her quirk? No wonder she was always so confident.

Trying not to let his newfound confidence show, Akuriru tossed the ball up into the air, holding the bat steady until the ball returned within a reachable distance. Swinging both arms in unison, Akuriru heard the satisfying clunk of the bat hitting the ball and sending it off into the distance. When Mister Aizawa announced that his throw had hit close to Tsuyu Asui’s attempt, Akuriru let his shoulders drop with relief. That meant he should be safe from last spot, if his mental calculations proved on point.

Holding the bat close to his ankle, Akuriru bit down a pained hiss as the ink re-joined his skin, and he his fellow students. Momo gave him a high five once he was by her side again.

“Next, Midoriya,” Mister Aizawa called, causing everyone to focus their attention on the last remaining student. Watching Midoriya approach the same circle he himself hadn’t occupied that long ago, Akuriru couldn’t help but feel bad for his classmate. Sure, the hero world was difficult, but to be kicked out simply because he was in last place, was just too unfair.

Muttering to himself, Midoriya lifted his arm and got ready to throw. A decent toss, or it would have been if the ball didn’t drop to the ground like Midoriya had simply let it go. Shared gasps echoed through the gathered crowd of students before their attention was dragged back to their teacher who was staring straight at Midoriya, his shoulder-length black hair weaving towards the sky like a hypnotised snake. A very hairy snake.

Midoriya echoed his classmates’ shock. Akuriru stood too far in the back to properly hear their discussion, but what he could make out was that like him, Midoriya wasn’t as used to his quirk as he should be at his age. Whatever the rest of their discussion was, Akuriru could only watch as Midoriya tried to throw a second time, this time hitting it far further than his first attempt. When he turned to face their teacher however, his right hand’s index finger was a dark, burned colour, like he had placed his finger on a warm stove plate and just left it there for a couple of hours.

The shared look between him and Mister Aizawa was enough to say it all. ‘Look at me. I did it.’ Grins of admiration, even a cheer from Uraraka, sounded through the gathered crowd. Everyone seemed happy for Midoriya, except Bakugo, who was storming straight for the freckled boy.

“What the hell?! You damn nerd, when did you-!”

Just like that, Mister Aizawa’s scarf flung out, capturing Bakugo within an instant, holding him back from beating the living daylights out of Midoriya. There was a quick scolding for Bakugo, and an admittance of lying to his students from Mister Aizawa.

As it turned out, the tests had been just that, tests. No one was to be expelled, something that came as nothing more than a relief to everyone, especially Midoriya, who seemed to be on the verge of tears. Akuriru couldn’t blame him for the relief he felt. If it had been him, he’d probably be wailing like a new born baby around the corner by now.

The purpose behind the tests had been to see how well class one-A had control of their abilities. Iida in turn lectured Mister Aizawa about the possibility of losing the trust of his students if he continued lying to them about things as important as possibly getting expelled for failing to perform. Mister Aizawa didn’t seem all that bothered as he ordered them to get dressed in their school uniforms again for their next class.

Akuriru bit down on the urge to rush after Mister Aizawa and asking him if he was aware that Akuriru hadn’t exactly earned his place amongst his fellow students, not really. He sighed to himself at the thought. Surely if the school faculty was aware of his crime, they would have done something about it by now, wouldn’t they?

Well, if nothing else, no one seemed to know how Akuriru had really gotten into the school in the first place, and from what he could see, Momo wasn’t planning on telling anyone either.

[howardpotts]

Sweet, Sugar, Candyman

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Steve

Summary: Reader performs Candyman and knows how to persuade the two men to join her on stage. She makes it one hell of a show, one that Bucky and Steve can’t forget. Bucky takes her to his bedroom, Steve joins quickly after.

Warnings: Smut (Male receiving, female receiving, vaginal sex, anal sex, M/M and F/M), roughness? As in; someone is going to be a bit demanding. ;)

A/N: Oh my god. My first threesome. I feel like I can finally say that I wrote some filthy smut. Oh, also, thanks @cametobuyplums @thamuddagirl @tranquil--heart for all the thirsty conversations that inspired this fic.

Do not read this if you are under 18.

Nervously you check yourself one last time in the mirror. Waved long hair, thick red lips, contoured face, navy tight dress. It was your typical 40’s look, or at least, that’s what you tried. You had to, to make your performance in front of the New York SHIELD Agents and Avengers an absolute success.

“Y/N, fifteen seconds”, someone informed you. You nodded firmly, hands lowering your dress one last time. This is it. Now or never.

“Now, give her a big applause…. Y/N!” The sound was muffled. Adrenaline rushed through your body, maybe even more than it did on mission. Missions you were familiar with, performing in front of a live audience you’re not.

Quickly you find your place, a big smile on your face, hands on your hips. The moment the beat started playing, the curtains disappeared and the crowd cheered. They have never seen you like this. The only version of you they ever saw was serious and to the point. Sure you liked a joke, most of the times you enjoyed a dark one better than the innocent ones.

“Before we start”, you begin, wiggling your eyebrows. “I need two strong men.” You smirk while you search the crowd, a few hands are in the air. Some jokingly, some serious. A chuckle leaves your mouth as you take a few steps forward. You spot Steve and Bucky in the crowd. Gotcha.

“Preferably two who have been around in the 40’s.” Your eyes never leave them, there’s no escaping now. Both look wide-eyed, not expecting this kind of sudden attention. The crowd cheers. Steve tries to get out of it, waving his hand and mouthing ‘no thanks’, but Bucky is already on his way to the stage.

Natasha helps you, pushing Steve in to the right direction until he gives in himself.

You greet Bucky when he climbs up. As a real gentleman, he kisses the back of your hand, looking in your eyes playfully. You lead him to one of the two chairs that are on the stage.

When Steve gets up, he looks embarrassed and slightly irritated. “Why?” is the first thing he asks you. You just shake your head, refusing to give him an answer and lead him to the other empty chair on the stage.

“Now, be a good Captain and stay seated please”, you whisper close to his ears.

You move to the center again. Your hips start flicking up and down while your hands are holding them. With a playful smile you watch the audience, nervous magically disappeared the minute you saw the crowd, excitement has taken over.

“Tarzan and Jane were swingin’ on a vine”, it scolds through the room, a male voice starting the song. The microphone is close to your mouth. “Candyman, candyman.”

“Sippin’ from a bottle of Vodka double wine.” One last look to the crowd with one eyebrow up. “Sweet, sugar, candyman.”

And you turn around to face the two men, who are maybe three feet apart from each other. The music takes on and you walk toward them, swaying your hips from left to right. Their attention is on you, curiosity beaming in their eyes.

You first turn to Bucky, since it felt like he was most sure of himself, Steve really needed to be eased into this song. You hovered over Bucky, laying your hand on his cheek softly. “I met out for diner on a Friday night”, you start, getting your hand back again and twirling around his chair.

“He really had me workin’ up an appetite. He had tattoos up and down his arm. There’s nothing more dangerous than a boy with charm. He’s a one stop shop, makes the panties drop-“

Bucky couldn’t be more surprised. He never saw you out of work and he most definitely never considered you.. this. One who can work the crowd, make them whistle while you walk past. He was blown away by your moves and touches, mentally trying to keep his head on the stage.

You laid a hand on his shoulder, which made his head flick up to you. You gave him a quick wink before lowering yourself, still moving your hips from one side to the other. The moment you’re finally at his height, you quirk up again, hand leaving his arm.

“He took me to the Spider Club on Hollywood and Vine. We drank champagne and we danced all night. We shook the paparazzi for a big surprise. The gossip tonight will be tomorrow’s headline-“

It was Steve’s turn. He looked up at you. His shyness was lost, he decided he better just get it over with. He gave you a little smirk as if he wanted you to know it’s okay to do the same as you did with Bucky.

And so you did. You stood behind him, your hand slowly going from his chest to his collarbone, but not any further than that. You made sure of that, not wanting to make them feel overtouched. Slowly you creeped your hand back to his should and then left again, walking around his chair and stopping again in the middle between the two guys.

“He’s a one stop shop, make my cherry pop. He’s a sweet talking, sugar-coated, candyman.”

The crowd cheered. Natasha and Tony having the times of their lives seeing those two supersoldiers in such.. public position. But also, they were very much enjoying your performance. You sang like an angel, not one note off. Your moves were smooth, but not overly done to make you look cheap. It was an overall classy and well rehearsed performance.

_____________________

With the same looks you walk into the crowd, pretty satisfied with the performance you just had. A bit nervous for what Steve and Bucky had to say. They didn’t know that they would be called on stage and you’re not sure if they’d be happy about it. But you had to do it. It was like this song was made for them.

“That was one hell of show, girl. I loved it.” Natasha squeezed your upper arm softly while smirking. She was the only one who knew that the supersoldiers would be asked to come on stage. You thank her, but also eye Bucky and Steve. When being called on stage, Bucky didn’t seem to mind, but Steve was a different story. He had to be convinced by Nat before deciding not to demonstrate and just go with it.

“You really know how to surprise these old folks, eh?” Bucky smiled widely as he grabbed Steve’s shoulder. You grinned, shrugging your shoulders.

“I hope I didn’t cross any boundaries”, you say innocently, batting your eyelashes with it. Bucky presses his lips together.

“You’re a good performer”, Steve says, his smile a little less wide. It made you a little uncomfortable, as if he only says it to be nice in public, only to give you a speech when you’re alone.

Nat grabs both of your shoulders and tugs you away from the two men, which takes you by surprise. A confusing ‘hmm’ leaves your lips, but Natasha isn’t answering. When they’re both out of earshot, she finally starts talking.

“I’m not trying to… interfere”, she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “But I think you got both men quite worked up.”

Your eyes grow big. “Worked up? Like? Pissed?” Your cheeks start to slowly get more colour.

“Oh my god, no. Are you blind? I mean.. They like the view of you all – how do they say it? – dolled up.” Now you’re of officially blushing. The temperature rises, but you’re far from uncomfortable. Instead, how bad it may be, there’s even a little spark starting to exist in your belly, slowly making its way down to your most sensitive spot.

“What? No, they’re probably just nice”, you try to swat it off, but Natasha just gives you a small wink before returning to the supersoldiers, where Tony has joined them. He gives you a thumbs up, but you’re too busy in your head, thinking of all the things they could do to you.

You never thought about it. Sure, you thought about maybe them, you’re not blind. They’re like two gods. But it never occurred to you that they might actually be interested in you, just an ordinary agent.

_____________________

You sip from your gin tonic while looking at people, they’re dancing and laughing. A little content smile is on your face, realizing that your performance went well and now you can enjoy the night without having to think about a single mission.

“Can I have a beer?”, you hear from your right. He takes a seat next to you, scooting a little closer and now also brushing your arm with his.

“Don’t you love this?”, he asks. You look at him, but he’s still looking at the crowd. “The dancing, the laughing, sipping beer. In a strange way, this reminds me of the 40’s.”

“Yeah, it’s lovely to have an evening where you don’t have to worry about anything”, you smile, looking into his piercing blue eyes, brown hair tugged behind his ears. “Don’t have to think about the missions. Where back in the day, you don’t have to worry about..”

“War”, he finished your sentenced. You didn’t want to finish it, knowing damn well it might still sting, even after so many years. You smile in embarrassment and add a quick ‘yeah’.

“It is, yeah, in a way.” Again, he scoots closer, now obviously touching your arm, hand brushing yours. His pink intertwines with yours as he finally looks at you. Again, red creeps into your cheeks and neck, no way of hiding it.

“Look, doll, I’m going to be honest”, he sighs, voice lower than when he started the conversation. His words made your blood run faster. “What you did on that stage - You look like a real betty and if you feel just as warm as I do, I suggest we go to the elevator and continue the party with just the two of us.”

You do feel warm. No, correction, you feel hot. Your teeth catch your lower lip as you watch him. His eyes are pleading, watching how you figure out what to say without sounding like you’ve planned this.

Instead of saying something, you just nod, still holding your lip between your teeth. He grins, standing up immediately, smoothly passing the crowd and walking to the elevator. You follow, trying not to smile. It’s a desperate attempt so no one will notice what you and Bucky are planning on doing.

When the elevator opens, you both get in quickly. Bucky presses the closing button impatiently, slowly showing how desperate he really is. You chuckle, which he notices.

As soon as the door shuts, he pushes you against the wall, lips on yours. It’s a needy kiss, a bit sloppy as well. Your hands are around his neck in a second, pulling him even closer.

You’d lie if you didn’t think of this while preparing for your performance. It’s a fantasy you thought of, but also put away quickly, since the odds of it happening seemed very small to you. But here you are, kissing one of the two soldiers you desperately wanted in your bed.

When the elevator dings again he stumbles backwards, grabbing your hand while watching you hungrily. You giggle while walking to his apartment, excited for what’s about to come.

When inside, he slams the door, pushing you to it again. “Fuck, I can’t wait to rip this off.” His voice is low, hands roaming your dress, pulling at some of the fabric.

His lips devour your neck, teeth nibbling slightly at the same time. You throw your head back, a small moan coming out of your mouth. “Then do it. Rip it”, you sigh, encouraging Bucky to take it to the next step. He looks at you for reassurance, not sure if you really wanted this dress to be unwearable. But your eyes are closed, waiting for your body to be exposed.

With little effort he rips the seams apart, slowly showing your lace black bra and matching panties, dress somewhere tossed in the room. His hands are on your breast in an instant, squeezing them as if he never wanted something so desperately in his life. A low growl leaving his mouth with it.

He lifts you, your legs wrapping around his thighs. A bit clumsy he stumbled to the bed, almost falling over a pair of shoes that were tossed somewhere in the living room. He wasn’t the cleanest person of the Avengers, but you knew that before this little adventure.

“You planned this, didn’t you? You wanted us to go crazy, to fuck your brains out.” All this time he had a mischievious smirk on his face. “Did you want me? Or Stevie?”

You keep your mouth shut, not knowing what to answer. Your bottom lip is between your teeth again, probably betraying your answer. “Answer me, babygirl.” There’s a slight warning in his voice.

He throws you on the bed. You want to crawl backwards, but he doesn’t allow it. Instead, he grabs you by the ankles and turns you around. “I said answer me.”

God you were loving this, how he handled you roughly. You wondered how far he’d go without you answering. You wondered what he was going to do about the fact that you didn’t say a word. And so, you stayed silent, only a giggle leaving your mouth.

“Oh, so that’s how you wanna play, huh?” You feel the mattrass dip, two seconds after, you feel his hand hitting your ass hard, the sound filling the room. A small hiss passes your lips, but your walls are fluttering. You were practically dripping already and he didn’t even do that much.

Another spank on your cheek has you whimpering. “Bucky please-” “Answer me”, he orders. You want to answer but you can’t, words strangled with each other.

Another slap forces the answer out of you, almost screaming it at him. “Both!”

He stops entirely. Oh shit. Wrong answer?

“Both? You want both of us?” You turn around, facing him while innocently nodding your head. You expect to see confusion on his face, but instead, you see a playful grin.

He grabs his phone out of his pocket and starts texting. “Uh? Bucky?”, your voice is unsure, even a little bit insecure. He doesn’t look up for another few seconds before laying it down and climbing further on the bed, his face close to yours.

“It might be your lucky day.” The words send shivers down your spine. Out of excitement you kiss him, hands in his hair, but he breaks the kiss again. “But don’t count yourself lucky yet, doll. I’m not sure if he’ll come.”

You nod and bat your eyelashes innocently. “Well”, you say, voice more girly than usual. “In the meantime, Sarge, let me give you a good time.”

His eyes darkened, definitely enjoying the name you just called him. He throws himself at you again, his flesh hand dissapearing to your back to release your bra.

You quickly rid yourself of it, exposing your breasts to him. He licks his lips at the sight of it, eyes blown with lust. His metal hand squeezes one of your tits, flicking a nipple in between moves. His mouth find the other nipple while he sucks carefully.

God it feels so good. He makes you feel so good. As much as you want him to move further, you promised him that you were going to give him a good time. And so, you push him off you.

He lays down on the mattress as he pulls his shirt over his head. No time to appreciate the work of art in front of you. You work on the belt, his hardend cock clearly visible as you try to get his pants off as quick as possible.

When you finally push it down, you automatically pull his boxers with it. His cock springs free. Pre cum is dripping off his red head. His cock is thick and you suddenly feel worried if your mouth fits around it.

You look at him in the eyes, shock probably visible all over your face as he chuckles. “Just take as much as you can, babydoll.”

He softly brushes your hair to encourage you. You stick out your tongue and lick down his shaft and back to the tip, where you lick away all the pre cum. Slowly you take him in your mouth, jaws hurting from the stretch.

You start bobbing your head, each time taking him deeper, your mouth opening up and taking him in. Your right hand takes the parts your mouth can’t reach, your left hand is cupping his balls.

He grunts, his hand fisting your hair. “Fuck, yes, like that baby, taking my cock real good.” The words encourage you, your tongue pressing against his vein. His hips buck, his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag in a reflex.

You don’t stop. You ignore your own reflexes as you keep trying to speed things up.

“Shit, fuck, god you feel-” His words are cut off by a knock on the door. You stop your movement, eyes gliding to his as his cock leaves your mouth. A big grin spreads across his face.

“Looks like we’ve got company. Why don’t you go look?”

You reach with your hand to your mouth to wipe off the pre cum and saliva, but Bucky grabs your wrist, shaking his head.

“Yes, Sarge”, you say with a little tremble in your voice. This is not happening, right? Is it really Steve who’s behind that door? Did they do this more often? Or is Bucky just messing with you?

You peek through the little hole in the door. Your legs weaken when you see the handsome blonde on the other side. Arms crossed, showing every muscle through the blouse. A feeling of vulnerability taking over. You’re naked and you looked like mess - like a whore.

With trembling hands you open the door, your body still hiding behind it in case someone else walks by. A little shy smile is on your face, but so is on Steve’s. The same one he had when you wanted him on stage. The only difference is the glint of lust in his eyes.

“Uh, come in.” It’s more of a question than an invitation, but he gets in anyway.

When the door shuts, he looks at you completely, eyes scanning your body. God, you couldn’t have felt more exposed right now.

“Steve? You there?” Bucky called from the other room.

“Yes, give me a minute Buck”, he called back, hands going through his hair. Give him a minute?

“God, you’re a real treasure.” He takes a step forward, closing the space between the two of you. He can probably tell how uncertain you are. His hands are now on your body. One in your neck, the other one on your thigh.

He presses his body against yours. Your heart felt like it could jump out of your body any minute now and you’re sure that he had to feel it as well.

“Looks like Bucky already had some fun with you”, he grinned as his put a strand of hair behind your ear. All innocence and shyness was lost as he yanked at your hair, your head falling back. “Think you can give it to me too?”

You nod, but just as Bucky, he wanted words. He pulled a bit harder at your hair. “Can you?”

“Yes”, you answer. He sighed, eyes breaking contact for less than a second.

“Yes what?”, he threatens. His grip tightening even more on your hip. That’s definitely going to be a bruise tomorrow.

“Yes, Captain”, you whisper. Finally he was satisfied with the answer and let you go. He walked toward Bucky’s bedroom, but not before he gripped your wrist and pulled you with him.

As you walk in to the bedroom, you see Bucky slowly moving his hand over his cock, grinning when Steve walks in. Steve gave a smirk in return. Even though you’re a bit confused with what’s happening, you get yourself together in two seconds.

You remembered the words of the Captain. Think you can give it to me too? With that in mind, you stand before him and start unbuttoning his jeans. Steve looks surprised, a smile he can’t hide.

“What are you doing, babygirl?” Steve sounds amused.

“You asked me, right?”, you grin. He lets you do your work as you peel off his jeans - boxer followers soon after. You look up, meeting his eyes. You feel a hand going through your hair.

“Sarge, you gonna watch?” Steve’s still looking at you. You bat your eyelashes at him before taking the first look at his cock. It’s already rock-hard and just as thick - maybe even thicker - as Buckys.

“Yeah, I’m gonna enjoy the show”, you hear from the other side of the room. The bed squeaks, but you don’t pay attention to what’s happening behind you. Your attention is focused on Steve’s cock.

You lick the pre cum off quickly, which makes Steve already grunt low. You press back a smile and open your mouth instead, taking his head in. A little ‘fuck’ comes from Steves mouth.

You take him in further until you feel your gag-reflexes showing up again. Slowly you start bobbing, Steves cock twitching from the good feeling you’re giving him. You can feel that Steve’s different, not as willingly as Bucky is. Not as desperate.

“Fuck- Y/N, hold still for me”, Steve growls. You stop, cock still in your mouth, saliva slowly dripping from your mouth to your chin and on the floor. But you’re pretty sure that your mouth is not the only thing dripping from wetness.

“Be a fucking good girl and stay like this.” It’s his last warning before he starts fucking your mouth himself. He’s panting, growling, grunting. But he’s not the only one. Someone close behind you is also softly moaning.

Steve’s cock triggers your reflexes, making you choke multiple times, but he doesn’t stop. If all, it’s a turn on for him.

“Buck, Sarge, fuck- Come here”, Steve commands. You start to realize that it’s not Bucky who’s in charge here. It’s Steve. And by the looks of it, they’ve done this more than once.

“Gladly”, you hear, making you squirm already. What’s going to happen?

You look at Steve and he’s still looking at you, still fucking his cock in your mouth. He pushes a bit further, which makes you moan around his cock and that results in a hard groan from Steve.

“Good girl”, he says before tearing his eyes away from you and to the other hot soldier. His hands let go of your head again and pulls back, releasing his cock from your mouth.

He crashes his lips Bucky’s, something you didn’t expect, but boy did you like it. This was definitely not the first time. Hell, it looks like they did this every fucking day.

You crawl away from the two of them. Now it’s your time to enjoy the show. They get pretty into it, touching and groping each other. Bucky’s quickly moaning into Steve’s mouth as Steve grabs his cock.

You feel a new heat going through your body. You’re not sure what’s hotter: the fact that they’re practically jerking each other off in front of you, or that Bucky went from dominant to obedient in seconds. Or maybe even the fact that this is a regular thing.

All things together made you squirm, it made you desperate for some pressure down there. And since those two were so into each other, you had no other option than to just start yourself.

You place yourself on the bed, panties lost somewhere on the way. Your finger finds your clit quickly as you watch. Steve’s big hand around Bucky’s cock and Bucky’s metal hand around Steve’s. God, their bodies must be created by angels. Every inch of them is perfectly muscled and tanned.

A small moan leaves your mouth, which caught their attention. Bucky looks surprised, unsure on how Steve will react, but Steve’s just chuckling. “Enjoying it, babygirl?”

You nod. “Yes, Captain. Very much.”

He grins, but quickly focusses on Bucky again. “Why don’t you take over from her, Sarge? Replace those fingers with your tongue.”

You swallow hard at his words, but you don’t stop fingering. Bucky walks towards you, cock jumping with every step he takes. He gives you a playful wink before getting on his knees, hands widening your knees. “Fuck, Cap, look at that.”

You want to remove your fingers, but Bucky gives you a quick warning to keep going. And so you do.

Steve slowly strokes his cock, watching you pleasure yourself. Both men are actually watching you finger yourself. A little whine comes out of your mouth. “Please Sarge, I want your mouth”, you beg, too worked up to feel ashamed.

“Come on, Buck, do as she says. She deserves it”, Steve says. God how much you want to kiss him for saying that. As you were to open your mouth to thank him, Bucky yanks your fingers out of the way and dives his tongue in there, ripping a loud moan out of you.

He circles around your clit, making 8-figures with his tongue. His lips join, gently nibbling at your clit. You’re slowly drifted to the edge, but Bucky knows how to speed that up if he decides it’s time to press a digit into your pussy.

Steve sits next to you and watches Bucky eat you out. Eyes full of lust. You watch him, taking him all in. It’s so fucking sexy that he’s taking charge. How he brought some new energy to this room.

A second finger is being added into your pussy as Bucky pumps in and out of you. You’re a whimpering mess under him, begging him to keep going, to never stop.

“How does she taste, Buck?”, Steve asks. You’re almost whining when Bucky removes his tongue to answer Steve.

“She’s a fucking five star menu. Want a taste?”

Steve grins at the answer. “Move”, is the only thing he says. Bucky smirks and moves, dropping himself next to you. His metal hand squeezing your breast, the other one supporting him to stay on his side.

Another moan rips out of you, from the deepest of your lungs. “Ahhhh, fuck- Steve, fuck yes, feels so good! I’m so close, so close-”

He quickly starts pumping in and out of you with his fingers too, three are now in you, aiming for your release. He curls them, tipping you over the edge. Toes curling, back arching, head in the pillow. You scream both their names. Steve, Bucky, Steve, Steve, Bucky, Bucky.

“Want to be fucked, babygirl?”, Bucky asks if Steve gets his mouth and fingers away from you. “Want our cocks in your pussy?”

You look at him with pleading eyes as you nod. If you talk now, you’re sure it’d sound as weak as a trapped prey.

Steve hovers over you, cock immediately pressuring your overstimulated clit again. “Answer him, doll.” His voice is dark, low and so fucking hot.

“Yes, Sarge. I want your cocks. Both of them. Please, fuck me.” You feel dizzy. You need it, your pussy is begging for it. You need someone to fuck you.

Steve decides to tease you first, his tip teasing your entrance. You buck up, trying to get more of his cock in you. Bucky sees and pinches your nipple a little harder, making you moan. It’s pleasuring but painful at the same time.

“Gotta have patience, babygirl. If you’re a good girl for us, we will let you come.” Steve smiles darkly at you. You know he means it and you’re not willing to risk anything and so you lay still. You barely even dare to breath. You want to cum around his cock.

But he pulls back. You want to whine but decide to be smarter than that. Be a good girl and you get to come.

“Sarge, open her up nicely for me”, he says as he pulls back.

Bucky now quickly gets between your knees. He decides that you’ve been teased enough and pushes directly in you without warning. It’s painful but bearable.

He sets a pace that has your eyes rolled back into your head. Slamming in to you as if he’s been waiting for years.

“F-f-fuck.” It’s all you manage to say.

Steve’s grabbing some lube and puts it on his cock while he watches how Bucky destroys you. You poke your feet in his back, steading yourself since you have a feeling what’s coming. You don’t want to come before the fun has even started.

As Steve takes place behind Bucky, you bite onto his shoulder, trying not to scream out of pleasure.

Bucky’s pace falters. Steve’s probably working him put with his fingers, teasing his hole. A high-pitched moan now coming from Bucky’s mouth.

Steve works him up quickly, adding one finger first, but adding a second one after a few seconds.

After adding a bit more lube on his cock, Steve slowly pushes into Bucky, who pushes into you. All three of you moan. Steve begins setting a pace, a low growl coming out of his mouth. Buckys cock is settling deeper and deeper with each thrust. You can feel his cock twitching.

You’re the first one who says something and you hope you’re not getting punished for it. You can’t get punished for it. You won’t be able to handle it.

“Fuck. S-Steve, Capt-tain, S-Sarge. I- I’m c-coming.” It’s a miracle that those words were formed in your brain, that’s how great it felt.

As his cock hits your sensitive spot, you’re done for. There’s no sound coming out of your mouth. Your walls clamping on to Bucky’s cock. You scratch his back as you stare from Bucky to Steve, who are both watching you come undone.

Bucky’s now the one who’s close. You can feel it, he’s so close, cock twitching with every push from Steve.

“S-Stevie. I’m not g-gonna last.”

Steve’s pace gets slower, his eyebrows quirk up. “Who am I?”

Bucky has his eyes closed, probably too focused on not coming into your pussy.  “Captain!”, he yells. Steve reacts immediately and slams into Bucky, pace faster than before. And that’s all Bucky needs to be driven over the edge.

You moan too, your oversensitive pussy being completely devoured as they keep pushing into you. Bucky’s seed is painting your walls, his fingers clamping the sheets.

Steve’s still lasting. You’re not sure how he does it, but you think it’s the serum. He stops pumping into Bucky and frees his cock again.

“Go rest, Sarge. I need to finish”, he says. Your cheeks were red from stimulation, but his words made you blush. He needed you for his own pleasure.

Steve’s in between your legs. “Want my cock, huh?”

You nod. “Yes, please, Captain.” As ashamed you should be for wanting another orgasm, your shame has left you long ago.

The captain doesn’t show mercy and slams into you, making you squeal. Skin is slapping on skin, balls bouncing against your hole.

“Fuck, you’re such a naughty girl, taking our cocks.” His words help you to another orgasms. It rips out of you so easily as if it’s your first. You moan, walls now clamping to Steve’s cock.

He groans, pace sloppy. Warm seed fills you, Steve’s forehead against yours. His whole body is shaking as he comes. It’s so hot, but you’re all out of energy to feel anything anymore.

Steve slides out of you, head resting on your breasts for a second before rolling next to you. You watch him for a second before turning your head to Bucky.

He gets a towel and some water. They both take care of you and clean you up. It’s like they switched in two seconds. From demanding to soft.

“Uh, so, sorry for your dress”, Bucky says when you’re all cleaned up. You’re underneath a blanket, no spare clothing to wear.

You chuckle. “I asked for it”, you wink. Steve laughs lowly as he pulls you closer. It’s a nice warm feeling. It’s safe, you feel safe.

“I have a few questions”, you say, eyeing the both of them. Steve only looks at you, waiting for the questions to come. Bucky halts you, cutting you off before you can even start.

“That’s very nice, doll. But those questions can wait. Me and Steve’ve been watching you for a while. Wanna safe those questions for a date?”

_____

Tags:

@cametobuyplums @thamuddagirl @tranquil--heart @buckmesideways22 @stuck-y-together @buckysthot

[seokoloqy]

Play Pretend | jjk (m)

➳ PAIRING: jungkook x y/n

➳ GENRE: smut, angst, soccer player!jk, fake dating!au, f2l

➳ WORD COUNT: 8.6k

➳ WARNINGS: mentions of cheating, minor violence, not rlly fingering but fingering ig, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie

➳ SUMMARY: walking under ladders, splitting the pole, breaking mirrors, going near black cats—just to name a few things Jeon Jungkook doesn’t do before his soccer games.

And after Jungkook catches his girlfriend cheating on him, he’s going to need a little more than luck to get her back. He needs you.

➳ A/N: it’s been a long time coming but she’s finally done!! Everyone say thank you to Jane (@perfectlylmperfekt) for kicking my ass every day and making sure I was writing

—

As rain batters against the windows, your cat saunters up to your lounging figure. He rubs against your blanket-covered legs, begging for attention and belly rubs. You set aside the tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream to run your cold hands across his back, enjoying his satisfied purrs as you coo, “are you bored too, Pitch?”

The cat you brought home from the shelter has become your best friend. He’s always there for you whenever Jungkook isn’t around and you’re grateful for his companionship. No matter how many times Jungkook begs you to get rid of him because of his superstitions, you refuse. Pitch is family now and there’s no way you’re giving him away because Jungkook thinks he’s bad luck.

The reruns of your favorite television show have been on since you got back from class and all you’ve done is lay around eating junk food. You’d be hanging out with your roommate, Jungkook if he weren’t already at his girlfriend’s house for the night. For now, it’s just you, Pitch, and one too many Oreos.

You hear the sound of your front door unlocking and a disgruntled sigh. The door slams shut and Pitch jumps off your lap, bolting across the floor and slinking back into your bedroom.

“Back already?” You call out to your roommate, who made an unexpected return. Jungkook told you he’d be back tomorrow, you were expecting the apartment all to yourself.

He doesn’t respond, the sound of his squelching footsteps across the wooden floor make your head turn. You’re surprised to be greeted with his shaggy, dripping hair and soaked clothes, grey sweater clinging to his skin as he stares dejectedly off into space.

“What happened to you?”

“I caught Sooyoung cheating on me and we lost the match,” he mumbles.

Jungkook sighs, flinging his duffle bag to the ground as he drags his feet over to you. Falling back onto the couch with his legs dangling over the armrest, he looks up at you hovering over his face, distraught by his confession.

“You okay?” You ask, trying to sound supportive.

He gives you an incredulous look, “I lost the match and my girlfriend cheated on me! I’m not okay at all!”

You raise your hands in surrender, “It’s not the end of the world, okay? It’s just one match and it’s her loss.”

“But she was my good luck charm,” he pouts, turning on his side to face the television.

Ever since they started dating, he’s won every game and somehow he’s convinced it’s her that helped him win. Though you only believe it’s just luck that he happens to win every time she’s there. She’s like a lucky pair of socks he needs for every game.

You roll your eyes, leaning back into the cushions and huffing, “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re a good player all on your own. Standing on the sidelines waving around some poster doesn’t correlate to you winning every time. You’ll do great with or without her.”

“No,” he stubbornly says, rubbing a hand down his face. “I need her.”

“How ‘bout I go with you for your next game?” you suggest, reaching over to grab your melting tub of ice cream. “I bet you’ll still win even without your lucky charm.”

“But you hate watching my soccer matches.”

“It’s just one game. How bad can it be?” You shrug, dangling the tub of ice cream over his face. “Now, eat this, it’ll make you feel better.”

—

“Where’s the cereal?”

“Huh?” you hum, snapping out of your reverie. He’s already wearing his purple jersey, lacing up his cleats, and waving around a box of cereal. Usually, you aren’t awake when he leaves for games, busy catching precious hours of sleep instead of waving him off.

However, your attention is focused on the tendrils of black ink crawling up his thigh beneath his shorts. You’re not very familiar with the tattoo, having only seen it once when he first got it. He had flashed his thigh to you unexpectedly with the flower patterns swirling up his leg and disappearing past the black fabric of his ridden up shorts. You’d turned away, refusing to look at his exposed leg, afraid of where the ink ended. Maybe it stops right above the hip bone, nearing mouthwatering territory. You regret not stopping to admire it now, dreamily eyeing the marks peeking from underneath the black nylon material.

“The cereal—there’s no more.” He shakes the empty carton, bringing your attention to him and raising an eyebrow. “Did you eat it all last night while I was gone?”

You scoff, lifting your hand to your chest and feign offense, “No, I would never eat your bland and healthy cereal.” Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a black creature creeping towards the countertop, jumping up and edging towards you. “Oh, Pitch!” you squeal, running your hand over his fur.

“Argh! Get that cat away from here. That thing is bad luck.” Jungkook backs up from the countertop, pressing himself against the stove, nails digging into his palms.

“In some cultures, black cats are considered good luck,” you state, playing with Pitch’s clawing pink paws. “Your fear of him is irrational. Besides, how can you be afraid of him? He’s so cute,” you coo, tickling his stomach.

“I’m not afraid of your cat. I’d just prefer if it weren’t around me before games.”

“Him, not it,” you correct, watching as Jungkook slowly edges around the stove and moves to the fridge.

“Whatever, just keep it away,” he dismisses, turning his back towards you to open the fridge and rifle through its contents of healthy options.

He seems fine, considering what happened yesterday. Still superstitious as always. But you’re wondering how he’s really feeling, hoping he’s not bottling up his emotions until he’s ready to burst.

“So,” you ponder, “have you called Sooyoung yet?”

He shuts the door, leaning his forehead against the cold metal with a dejected sigh, “I mean, we’ve been together for years. Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?”

You nod slowly, muttering, “I guess, but she cheated on you.”

“I know,” he grits his teeth, turning around with a red Gatorade in hand, twisting the lid open and taking a long swig, sloshing it around in his mouth before swallowing.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly apologize, turning your attention to Pitch instead returning his intense gaze lingering on you.

He cocks his head towards the door, “Let’s go.”

You slide off your seat at the island and head towards the door, regretting bringing up his girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend. He follows closely behind, unconsciously pressing a gentle hand on your lower back and dragging along his grey duffle bag.

—

The hanging overcast sky brings a cold wind around the field, ripping umbrellas out of hands and blowing away lawn chairs not secured to the ground. As you step foot on the sinking, damp grass, you cringe seeing the underside of your semi-new white shoes become muddy and stained.

Jungkook strides onto the field with no problem, used to the conditions after heavy rain and loving the exhilarating feeling of playing on a damp field.

“It’s freezing out here,” you shiver, crossing your arms over your chest to conserve body heat. If you had known it was going to be this cold with the wind whipping about, you would have worn more than a sweater and maybe you would have brought your own chair seeing as the metal benches are still wet from the earlier rain.

Jungkook drops his duffle bag on the bench, shrugging off his thick jacket. “Here, take mine. I don’t need it anyway,” he offers, holding it open to allow you to slip your arms through the sleeves. As he helps you push your arms through the sleeves, his lingering warmth shields you from the cold and he brings his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Hey.” You twist to loosen his unrelenting grip on you. “Get off.”

“Not yet, wait till she sees,” he hums patiently, running his nose along the shell of your ear.

“W-What?” You stutter, squirming away from his heated breath puffing across your neck. You scan the crowd of people, spying the crowd for said ‘she.’ As you watch the bleachers a face appears in the stands, gazing down at your awkward position in one another's arms. Sooyoung’s beaming smile fades as she watches Jungkook press a kiss to your cheek and pulls you to his side, casually resting his arm over your shoulder.

While he pretends not to acknowledge her, she gets the message, timidly lowering the hand she almost waved. You can understand why Jungkook wouldn’t want to speak to her, after all, she did cheat on him. But what is he trying to accomplish by holding you so close?

“She’s jealous,” he smirks, “She’ll want me back soon enough.”

You gawk, no longer flattered by his intimate touches.

“Hey, pretend to be my girlfriend.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let’s make Sooyoung jealous.”

“How is that a good idea? She cheated on you and you still care about what she thinks?”

“Come on, Y/N, it’ll be like revenge.”

“Getting revenge never solves anything. If anything it makes everything worse.” You say, watching Sooyoung continuously glance at the two of you from her seat alone.

“Please? It’s just holding hands and stuff that’s it.”

Holding hands and stuff? Denying that you had a crush on your roommate/friend would be useless. Of course, you like him but pretending to be his girlfriend to get back at his ex? You guess it wouldn’t hurt to help your best friend.

“Fine.”

Jungkook grins, “this is going to be great. Stay here okay and watch me win this then.”

He places a seemingly quick and meaningless kiss on your lips, making sure everyone on the field and off has a chance to see, before dashing off to join his teammates at center field without another thought or explanation. You slowly lower yourself onto the soaked bench, faintly feeling the water seeping into your jeans, but you’re too distracted by the lingering taste of his lips. Your thoughts are a blur of chaos, still reeling from him calling you his new girlfriend and the unexpected kiss—a kiss you can’t wrap your head around.

Are you supposed to feel anything other than butterflies fluttering in your stomach? Why would he kiss you? He just wants to do it for show.

The referee blows on his whistle, starting the match and your gaze follows Jungkook. His determination and focus follow the ball and nothing else like the world falls away.

The ball is passed around and the crowd cheers, but all you can focus on is Jungkook. He runs after the ball, legs pumping across the field. The dark patterns of his orchid tattoo show beneath his shorts with every stride he makes.

Drops of rain begin to speckle your cheeks, you pull up the hood of Jungkook’s jacket. The rain begins to pour, hitting the field and bouncing off the surface. As rain drenches players and audience members alike, the game continues without a pause. Through the haze of water, you can see Jungkook still running despite rain falling in his eyes and his dark bangs sticking to his forehead. The purple jersey clings to the toned muscle beneath, giving you a view of his abs.

Oh man, you’re in trouble.

—

“Hey, wanna watch a-”

You make a beeline towards your bedroom, not wanting to spend another awkward second with him. The door slams behind you just as you hear him call out your name, wondering why you’re avoiding him.

You throw yourself onto your bed, burying your face in your pillows and screaming to release your frustrations. It’s mostly confusion though, you don’t understand anything.

In the hallway, you hear his footsteps walking past your door and you’re afraid he’ll swing your door open and demand you tell him what’s wrong, but the shower turns on instead. You breathe a sigh of relief, rolling over on your bed.

“You don’t just kiss a friend,” you mutter under your breath, talking to no one in particular until you hear a soft ‘meow.’ You’re reminded that Pitch hasn’t eaten yet and you haven’t refilled his bowl. If you get out now, you’ll be able to sneak back before Jungkook gets out of the shower. Peeling yourself off the bed, you peek your head out into the hall. The bathroom door across from you is shut with the melodious sounds of Jungkook’s humming beneath the trickling of water.

Pitch slips out of the room, dashing into the hall and you follow after him. In the kitchen, you grab a can of his favorite chicken flavor food from the cabinet to pour into his metallic bowl. He purrs with delight, picking up his meal.

You leave him to eat in peace, sneaking back to the hall where water has stopped running, but the door is still closed with the fan whirring inside. As you tiptoe towards your door, Jungkook emerges from the steam filled room wrapped in nothing but a towel, water dripping down his skin. It’s not like you haven’t seen anything before. His love for as minimal clothing as possible hasn’t phased you until now.

“Hey,” he greets casually as if nothing has changed. Maybe he doesn’t feel the tension slowly rising between you two, but you’re certainly feeling the repercussions of his kiss. You dodge around him to get to your room, muttering about a paper that’s due soon. Once you’re safely hidden in your room, you breathe a sigh of relief. You know you can’t avoid him forever. It’s childish to just ignore him and not address your problems.

A knock comes from behind your back, Jungkook calls through the door, “Hey, what’s up?”

The door swings open and you stumble away from the door as he pushes his way into your room. His head pops through the crack, peering at you with his brows furrowed. “Did I do something wrong?” he questions innocently, opening the door wider so he can step in.

“No,” you squeak, holding your breath as you notice his towel dip lower around his waist.

“Then what’s wrong? Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope,” You say, popping the ‘p’. “Now, get out of my room and put a shirt on please.”

He glances down, slyly returning his gaze back up to you with a smirk gracing his lips. “Oh,” he cocks his brow, “are you blushing? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so red, Y/N.”

You move to push against his toned chest, forcing him out of your room. “Get out, I mean it, Jungkook.”

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, walking backward. “I’m leaving, but if you ever want a taste—”

You screech, slapping his shoulder, “Get out!”

His laugh echoes down the hall as he walks back to his room.

—

“You’re coming to my game next week right?” Jungkook asks over a bowl of soggy cereal, spoon halfway to his mouth.

“No?” You stop petting Pitch focusing on Jungkook.

“What?” His spoon clatters against his bowl as he gives you a dubious look. “But you’re my good luck charm now. We won the last game with you. I need you!”

“I keep telling you—”

“It’s the championships! We can’t lose this.”

You cross your arms with a heavy sigh, ignoring the pleading look he gives you. When will he start to realize he doesn’t need anyone to win?

As you begin to argue with his logic, he interrupts, “I’ll clean out Pitch’s litter box for a month!”

You can’t argue with that. You’d rather sit on a cold bench for an hour or two than clean out the litter box.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“After the championships, I’ll take you out to dinner. There’s this new fancy restaurant-”

“Like… like a date?” You blurt suddenly, interrupting him. You pull Pitch into your arms like he’s your comfort animal, holding him to your chest as you nervously look at Jungkook.

He furrows his brows as if the answer is obvious. He shovels a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, chewing and speaking slowly, “Yeah, I guess… me and Sooyoung were gonna go together, but you know…” A dark look rolls over his expression as he says Sooyoung’s name, recalling her betrayal.

“Oh,” you say, hoping to not sound too disappointed.

“I already made the reservations and there’s no point in letting it go to waste.”  

“Okay, sure.” You hoped he would be interested enough actually take you out because he wants to, not because he has no one else to go with. You don’t know why you feel so rejected.

As you run your fingers through Pitch’s dark fur and watch Jungkook finish off his bowl of cereal, you wonder why he doesn’t seem to care about the other day. He hasn’t mentioned the kiss.

“So, you’re headed off to practice today?”

His purple uniform is laid out on the counter, washed of all the dirt and sweat from the rigorous day before.

“Yeah, wanna come? We can go eat after afterward,” he suggests, getting up to put his bowl in the sink. “I mean, we haven’t hung out for a while.”

He’s right. The last time you both spent a good amount of time together was before he started dating Sooyoung. So you easily agree to his offer, happy to spend more time with him.

—

“You’re late. Laps.”

“But-”

“Go.”

Jungkook drops his bag to the ground, groaning as his coach gives the order and he’s forced to begin jogging around the rectangular white painted field. The rest of his teammates are in the middle of the field doing their usual drills with one another. You linger on the sidelines next to the water cooler like the towel boy dishing out water to every exhausted player that comes by. You don’t mind it though, it’s better than sitting on the bench doing nothing but idle on your phone alone. You like making small talk with his teammates every time they come for a drink.

Jimin seems especially thirsty today, however, taking every opportunity between activities to jog over with a clandestine smile.

“Again?” you laugh, moving to grab a paper cup to fill up for the sixth time.

“Hey,” he whines, gently prying it from your fingers. “You don’t have to pour it for me. I’m not a kid.”

“But there’s nothing else to do! I’ve just been sitting here watching you guys practice like some soccer mom.”

“Soccer moms are hot,” he comments with a simple shrug of his shoulder and a sly smile creeping onto his face.

“Ha-ha,” you mockingly laugh, rolling your eyes.

As Jimin moves to fill his cup beside you, you look over at Jungkook, surprised that he's already looking at you, more specifically at Jimin with an unamused expression. A deep scowl forming across his features. When he starts jogging over you avert your gaze to Jimin chugging down the water he had just filled.

“You’re spending more time with my girl than practicing,” Jungkook snidely comments, slinging an arm around Jimin’s shoulder to roughly pull him to his side with a fake plastered smile on his face.

“Sorry,” Jimin throws his hands up in surrender sarcastically. “I didn’t know you already got over your ex and started dating Y/N overnight. It takes getting used to.”

“Fuck you,” Jungkook spits, pushing a laughing Jimin off him. “You just like getting on my nerves.”

Jimin straightens his uniform, giggling, “Yeah, you’re right, but I also happen to actually like Y/N. I’m just trying to keep her company while you’re ignoring her for practice.”

Just as Jungkook begins to threaten Jimin, their coach blows a whistle, calling them both back over to the field, threatening them with more laps.

As they both jog back, giving playful shoves, you sigh becoming bored again.  

After they’re released from practicing the whole team runs to the water cooler to relax, sighing in relief after grueling drills. Most of them ignore you for their cups of water, but Jungkook and Jimin seem to fight for your attention.

“Are you coming to my house to hang out? The rest of the team is coming.” Jimin asks you and not Jungkook, purposely ignoring him. “It’ll be fun to hang out again.”

He reminds you of the days before Jungkook’s girlfriend when you all would hang out whether it was at Jimin’s apartment or over dinner.

“Sure,” you agree, happy to bond with the boys again.

“You said you were hanging out with me today though,” Jungkook interjects, refusing to let Jimin steal you away from him for the day.

You don’t want to disappoint either of them, deciding on a compromise, “Well we can hang out together at Jimin’s house, right?”

“Great meet you guys there.” Jimin waves as he scoops up his duffle bag and heads towards the car with Hoseok and Seokjin.

—

Jungkook has been glowering for a while now, watching Jimin laugh heartily with his arm wrapped around you. Everyone else seems to notice the tension rolling off Jungkook in waves, awkwardly glancing over at him occasionally but not caring enough to ask what’s wrong.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Yoongi calls from the kitchen, “Come open this jar.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, muscle boy, or I’ll have to break it open.”

“Fine,” Jungkook groans, rolling his eyes and pushing himself off the recliner into the kitchen to join Yoongi and Seokjin.

Taehyung sneaks up behind you on the couch, resting his head on his folded hands against the back. “So,” he ponders, “What’s it like being the rebound?”

You’re not sure who gives Taehyung the harsh smack to the head, but he whines and pushes himself up wondering what he did wrong.

He’s right. You are the rebound—fake rebound. It’s bad enough being a rebound but it hurts, even more, knowing that he doesn’t have the same feelings you do because he’s so caught up in trying to make his ex-girlfriend jealous.

“That’s not what he means, Y/N,” Jimin assures, trying to comfortingly lay a hand on your shoulder to ease your worries away. As much as he tries to help, not even his soothing touch or gentle words can help rid the way you feel about the whole unfortunate situation you find yourself trapped in.

Should you fake break up with him? Tell him it’s over and pretend it never happened? Maybe you should just let this whole charade continue until his ex finally wants him back. If she even wants him back. It’ll be easier for both of you. You won’t have to face him about your feelings and he will get the girl again.

You need to keep up with this whole fake dating charade.

“I’m okay with it,” you say, plastering on a fake smile to convince the boys, mostly Jimin who’s watching you with worry in his eyes. “Really, I am.”

“Dinner is ready.”

Everyone’s head whips to see Jungkook peeking his head out from the kitchen door whose eyes find Jimin’s strewn hand resting over your shoulder and narrowing.

As everyone jumps from their comfortable spot on the couch to scramble into the dining room, Jungkook grabs your arm to pull you back from the group.

“Do you want to go home? We don’t have to eat here.” His eyes dart over to Jimin’s back disappearing with the rest of the boys to eat.

“Why not? We should just stay here.”

“But you look upset.”

You hadn’t realized the look still plastered on your face. He noticed the way your downcast eyes avoid him.

“I’m fine, really, I’m fine.” You pull yourself away from Jungkook and follow the rest of the boys, ignoring the worried lingering eyes watching you walk away.

—

“Why are you so upset with me again?” Jungkook grumbles, slamming the front door shut behind him. You ignored him the whole time during dinner, even choosing to sit next to Jimin instead. You just didn’t feel right about this whole thing anymore.

“Because you’re such a...”

“Such a what?”

You fall on the couch, slouching into the cushions as he takes a seat next to you. Why doesn’t he see it? He’s blind to how he’s been acting lately. He’s so confusing. He acts as if you’re his real girlfriend, but doesn’t give you any real sign that he actually feels anything.

“You’re just so blind! You make me your fake girlfriend, but it doesn’t feel that way to me!”

“What do you mean? You know this was only to make Sooyoung jealous.”

That’s what hurts. The fact he doesn’t even acknowledge how you could feel.

“You act like some kind of jealous boyfriend when Jimin is around and you were never like that before. It’s just giving me mixed signals. For you maybe it was only about her, but what about me, Jungkook? What about how I feel?”

“And what do you feel?” He crosses his arms defensively, trying to figure out what you mean.

“I-I…” You can barely get the right words out, afraid of their consequence. If you don’t say the words now, you’ll be stuck. “I like you! More than you think. I like you more than a friend or roommate should and you’re just so blind!”

It feels better as the weight is lifted off your shoulders, but the longer you watch Jungkook’s expression simmer with confusion, the more you feel that pressure returning. He’s still so hung up on his ex, so what makes you think he’ll return your feelings? He did all this—pretended to have a fake girlfriend—just to make her jealous and get her back.

“I’m sorry I did this to you. I still have feelings for her, but I don’t want to lose you either.”

His hand slides onto your leg, firmly gripping the jean-clad thigh in an attempt to comfort you, not knowing what else to do. Your downcast eyes find their way to the black tattoo peeking from underneath his shorts, trailing and twisting a complicated path upwards to territory unknown.

“So does that mean you could feel the same?” You swallow thickly. You’re stuck, wallowing in self-pity and the uncontrollable urge to just kiss him and hope that he’ll change his mind about everything. That just one kiss could change your relationship and you’ll have everything you want. It’s pitiful to think a measly kiss could change anything between you, but why not be daring? Why not be bold and go for it?

“I-I don’t know.”

“Then do you,” you lick your lips, “want to find out?”

You begin to lean into him unconsciously letting your body make the first move. It’s just a kiss, right? When he kissed you on that soccer field everything seemed to change for you.

Your hand reaches the nape of his neck, slowly intertwining timid fingers with the dark, silky strands of hair, daring to brush your nose against his. Breathless—the air leaves your lungs with each centimeter your lips get closer.

“Y/N…” he murmurs just inches away from you, inches away from crossing an unspoken line of friendship.

As soon as your lips lock something more than friendship ignites. The warmth passing throughout your body is something more than the tingle of first kisses and innocent butterflies dancing around your stomach.

Jungkook’s hand moves from your thigh, sliding up to latch around your waist, pulling you forward until your chests press against one another. It’s like a spark has lit between you two, creating an irresistible pull to cling onto one another desperately.

His lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the nape of your neck, sucking and kissing every inch of exposed skin.

Your eyes flutter shut, taking in the way his mouth moves over your body, arching further into him for more. “J-Jungkook,” you moan as he pushes you back to lay flat against the couch.

He hovers over you, kneeled between your parted thighs, dark bangs brushing over his crescent lids and nearly shielding the hungry gaze in his eyes. Fingers teasingly circle the button of your jeans as his gaze flickers between wary and lustful. Jungkook cocks his head before asking, “You want this?”

Without a voice, you nod your response, hoping it’s enough to ease him.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, yes, I want this, Jungkook,” you whine, gripping his forearm with one hand to move him against your jeans again.

Your verbal confirmation allows Jungkook to finally move to unbutton your jeans, shoving his hand into your pants without hesitation. He’s eager now, not even waiting until you can get your pants off fully. Easily, he finds your clit and begins to rub in slow, languid up and down motions to draw out a pretty moan from your lips. He cracks a grin hearing those little whimpers and feeling your legs curl around his thighs from the pleasure he bring you with just a flick of his finger.

Your back slightly arches off the cushions when his finger leaves your clit to draw a line up your wet slit, collecting as much of your arousal as he can before slipping his glistening fingers out to admire them in the light.

“Fuck,” Jungkook moans, taking his coated finger into his mouth to suck off your juices. His eyes flutter shut as if he’s tasting the sweetest aphrodisiac that is you.

You lift your hips off the couch to press yourself into his erection, grinding against the loose material of his soccer shorts, feeling the hardness of his cock laid on your stomach. You tremble with anticipation as he pulls down your jeans, staring at your exposed cunt.

“God,” he groans, sliding himself down your body until he’s level with your pussy. He takes two fingers to spread your lips apart for a better view. “You’re dripping.”

You moan as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing your fold, making you whine his name. The way you plead for him, beg for him, grind down on his teasing fingers, all set a fire inside you.

“Jungkook,” you mewl, “f-fingers.”

“Fingers or my dick first? Because you’re coming on both tonight.”

If your mouth wasn’t already hanging open from his fingers sliding up and down your folds, it would be now.

You gasp when the tip of his finger tentatively slips into you while your fingers claw at his shoulders between your thighs. “I just want you. I want all of you.”

“Shit, I don’t think I want to wait. Just ride me now.”

Jungkook pulls himself away from your core, pulling his jersey over his head and his soccer shorts down. As he slings his clothes aside and relaxes against the couch, his cock springs free against his stomach, leaking with milky precum.

You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You’re really doing this. You’re really going to have sex with your roommate/best friend. This is either the biggest mistake of your life or the greatest turn of events. The muscles in your arms stiffen as you grip his shoulders for stability.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, sensing your reluctance and pushing back the stray hair falling over your eyes. “We both want this, right?”

You nod, biting down on your lower lip before aligning with his cock.

He’s right. You want this as much as he does. You trust him—love him.

As your dripping folds brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively lower yourself further, taking the rest of him in swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick, has you moaning out his name, gasping for air, “Mhm, Jungkook.”

You rock your hips into him, already feeling yourself tightening and clenching. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full.

Jungkook takes your hips, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, causing you to scream.

He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into the cushions and groaning. The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clench shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock.

You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax. Jungkook’s finger slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge.

“Are you gonna come?” He asks, breathlessly, pulling his head forward to kiss your collarbone, sucking harsh bruises against your skin.

“Y-Yes,” you pant, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, you feel so good. ”

At this point whatever tumbles out of your mouth is just unfiltered thoughts.

“Then come,” he moans against your neck, “Come all over my cock.”

A final flick of his finger over your sensitive mound is all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure. Your legs tighten around Jungkook’s waist, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him.

Not long after, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed.

Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally maxed out, you feel him going soft inside you. Jungkook slowly slips himself out, careful not to let any of your juices drip onto the couch by stuffing two fingers into you and plugging you up.

You let out a little whine, “Ah, wh-”

“This couch was expensive,” he chuckles, “We don’t need any stains.”

“Well, who told you to buy the expensive couch?”

“I know a better place where we can make a mess.”

Just as Jungkook wraps his arm around your waist to hoist you up from the couch, there is a small knock on the door. Both your heads turn, afraid it might be your neighbors with a noise complaint.

“Jungkook?”

It’s Sooyoung’s voice.

“What is she doing here?” You ask, not realizing how shaky your voice sounds. Fuck, she isn’t supposed to be here. Not now.

“I don’t know, but don’t worry, I’ll deal with it. Meet me in my room. I’ll take care of you right after,” he winks, slipping his fingers out of you and licking up both your arousals off his fingers.

You giggle, “Okay, hurry up then.”

Maybe he really has gotten over her, you can’t help but feel the giddy sense of joy as you scurry to his room, looking over your shoulder to see him throw back on his soccer uniform and fix his hair.

You run into his room, throwing yourself onto his bed and spreading your body out on the sheets, grinning happily to yourself. What a dream—you can hardly believe it. Could this be the start a new relationship between the two of you?

Voices raise in the living room, you catch a faint word of Jungkook and Sooyoung’s conversation.

“...me back…”

“... still in love…”

“...can’t… somewhere…”

You lay in Jungkook’s bed, completely naked and vulnerable, waiting for him to come back for what feels like hours. You’re curious. What are they talking about for so long? Jungkook said he’d be quick to shoo her away. Worry begins to set, and a sense of doubt starts to plague your mind. What if…?

You slip out of his bed and tiptoe down the hall to your room to grab something to cover yourself up.

As soon as the fluffy, white robe is wrapped around you, you skip back out into the hall and peek over to see what you suspected all along.

You’re trembling—sick to your stomach—watching as Jungkook wraps a strong arm around her waist to pull her in. His lips are pressed against hers. That kiss is no mistake. He still loves her. It’s clear nothing between you two has flourished into anything you’d hoped for, instead it comes crashing all around you into dust.

You wonder if she can taste your arousal on his lips still lingering after he finished with you. How can he kiss her so passionately when those same lips were on you just moments ago?

You’re foolish to believe that one night could change anything. He said he still had feelings for her. They were together for years. It’s not so easy to forget your first love.

The burning tears that well up in your eyes as you wrap your arms around yourself, protecting yourself, begin to fall.

“I’m so stupid,” you whisper. Even if you screamed it, it seems as if that wouldn’t break up the couples’ passionate reunion.

You find yourself laid in bed, curled up with an emptiness in your stomach, absentmindedly staring at the ceiling. You should clean up. Wash away traces of him on your body, get rid of whatever he touched.

You force yourself out of bed, across the hall, glancing over at the front door to find the two nowhere to be found. They left? He left? Jungkook fucks you and leaves right after as if him kissing his ex wasn’t a hard enough pill to swallow.

The scorching water isn’t enough to clean away how you feel. Such a sinking feeling isn’t easy to scrub away no matter how many time you claw your hands over those marks he left you, hoping the traces of him will disappear.

Once you’re out of the shower, wrapped up in a robe and laid back in bed, curled into a ball, you scroll through your phone to distract yourself. Somehow your thumb finds Jimin’s phone number. You bite your lip, wondering whether or not you should message him. You just want someone to talk to—someone to hold.

[You - 11:36 PM] hey

You lay your phone down, hoping for a quick response. You idly drum your fingers against your sheets, resisting the urge to cry again as your thoughts are muddled by images of Jungkook and Sooyoung.

[Jimin - 11:39 PM] what’s up? It’s pretty late

[You - 11:39 PM] yeah I guess it is… you’re probably resting before the big game tomorrow… I just wanted someone to talk to and you always say you’re here for me

Seconds after sending that message, your phone begins to buzz as a photo of Jimin pops up on your screen.

“Hello?” Your voice comes out croaked, parched because of all the crying you’ve been doing.

“What’s wrong?” He sounds upset, not at you but because he’s worried. At least you know one person cares about you.

“I just feel like an idiot.” Your voice wavers, threatening to choke up again and start to sob. “I just—I want to talk to someone right now.”

There’s silence on the line and then the sound of sheets rustling.

“Hello?” You call.

“I’m coming over.”

“Y-You don’t have to,” you stutter, wiping away a stray tear. “The championship is tomorrow. You need sleep.”

“And you need me, so I’m coming.”

It isn’t negotiable for him. He hangs up right after, leaving you to wait for his arrival almost ten minutes later despite living almost thirty minutes away.

Jimin arrives with his hair in disarray, a tee shirt, and pajama bottoms, and his soccer bag slung over his shoulder. You wrap the robe around you tighter, hoping to cover the hickeys along your collar away from sight. He rushes forward without an invitation to envelop you in a comforting hug.

“The fuck happened? Was it Jungkook?”

His questions are drowned out as you allow yourself to ease into him, releasing all the tension you’ve built.

“Don’t talk about him.”

That’s all he needs to know to close his mouth and guide you to the couch, reminding himself to deal with the problem later and comfort you first.

For a while it’s just silence, time ticking away as you sit together in each other’s arms, and then your sniffles, sobs, and tears. They come in waves of different emotions: regret, sorrow, and anger.

“I should have been smarter. I knew he loved her. He said he still had feelings for her! I’m such an idiot!”

“You’re not an idiot. Stop blaming yourself for Jungkook’s mistakes. None of this is your fault, okay?”

“But I shouldn’t have agreed to go along with his stupid plan!”

“Wait, what plan?”

You wipe your nose on the back of your sleeve and sigh, “He wanted to make Sooyoung jealous so she’d want him back, so we pretended to date.”

“He used you?”

You can feel his temper flaring in the way his posture straightens and his hands tighten around your waist.

When the front door creaks open both your heads whip around to find Jungkook sneaking back into the house, freshly disarrayed hair. Once he spots the two of you cuddled up on the couch in each other’s arms, he pauses underneath the door frame as he gapes at your teary, puffy eyes.  

“I can’t believe you,” Jimin sneers, rising off the couch with nothing but contempt written on his face.

“Don’t,” you weakly murmur, pulling on his hand before he can advance any further.

“What are you doing here?”

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing here? You think you can just sleep with Y/N and then go off to fuck your ex who cheated on you?”

Jimin rips his hand from your grasp, unable to contain the anger he’s built up from watching you cry over Jungkook.

Jungkook eases back towards the hanging mirror, raising his hands up as a feeble way to shield himself from the older’s advances. Too afraid of the menacing look in Jimin’s eyes.

“I know I shouldn’t have-”

An excruciatingly, sharp crack of bone and flesh connecting and shards of glass shattering, resonating throughout the living room before Jungkook can finish his sentence. Pieces of broken mirror scatter all around Jungkook’s feet along with drops of blood as he curses, sliding to the floor and holding his shoulder.

“Jimin!” You exclaim, rushing from the couch to Jungkook’s side and inspecting his scratched up arm. “Shit, you didn’t need to do that!”

“Maybe I didn’t, but he deserves it,” Jimin spits, refusing to come to Jungkook’s aid.

There aren’t deep shards of glass embedded Jungkook’s arm, it’s just minor cuts scattered across his skin. Thankfully, it’s nothing that calls for serious medical attention.

“Are you alright?”

Jungkook chuckles, wincing as his freshly bruised jaw begins to burn as his mouth moves, “That’s like… seven years of bad luck, isn’t it?”

He knows how badly he fucked up and how badly you must hate him now. He doesn’t know what else to say.

You’re in no mood to laugh with him.

“Come on.” You tug on his hands, standing up to help him on his feet. “Get up and put some ice on your face.”

Jungkook wobbles to his feet, cradling his jaw and sidestepping around Jimin who stands firmly in the path leading to the kitchen.

“You can stay at my place tonight if you want,” Jimin offers as soon as Jungkook is out of sight and rummaging for a bag to put ice in, “if you’re not comfortable staying here alone with him.”

“There’s nothing worse he can do now, Jimin,” you sigh, looking around for something to sweep up the glass. You don’t want Jimin hovering over you the whole night, you feel bad enough forcing him out of bed, but it’ll just cause more tension if he and Jungkook stay under the same roof. “You might as well go home. There’s a game tomorrow.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Jimin hesitantly says, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You follow after Jimin as he moves to the door. You wave him off and shut the door behind him, letting out a frustrated huff as you look back at Jungkook. He’s is still in the kitchen leaning against the island and tenderly holding an ice pack to his jaw. You don’t know whether to approach him or just walk away, back to your room where you’ll continue to wallow alone.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s a pathetic apology, murmured under his breath as you walk past the kitchen. You pause, stepping back beneath the threshold.

“Sorry for what? Sorry that you slept with me or sorry that you took back Sooyoung right after?”

You watch Jungkook wince, not from the throbbing on his cheek but from the harshness of your words. He stares at the floor, not daring to face you.

You leave him behind not bothering to say goodnight.  

—

The morning of the championship game comes too quickly and you still can���t find it in your heart to forgive Jungkook. When you hear the sounds of Jungkook shuffling in the hallway out to the kitchen for his ritual bowl of cereal, his footsteps come to a stop in front of your door.

He hesitates to knock, choosing to stand in the hallway and dejectedly stare at your door. You listen as his footsteps recede. As you silently stare at your bedroom door, wondering if you should go out.

You know you’re supposed to be there for him today as his ‘lucky charm,’ but how are you supposed to crawl out of bed and be there for him when he couldn’t be bothered to stay with you last night?

You curl yourself further into your blankets, shielding yourself from the sounds of Jungkook pouring his cereal, zipping up his duffle bag, shooing Pitch away, then walking out the front door alone.

Once the front door shuts, you pull yourself out of bed, dragging along a blanket over your head and into the living room where you fall on the couch with a defeated sigh. Pitch meows before jumping up to snuggly curl beside your feet.

His game should be ending already and if it were a perfect world you two would’ve been headed to dinner. You bought a dress already, before yesterday, you were counting down the days until the game but now you’re just counting down the minutes that you won’t be. You want to go to dinner, sit and talk, laugh and pretend he didn’t break your heart the night before.

[Jungkook - 6:47 PM] we lost the game :/

[Jungkook - 6:47 PM] it was my fault rlly… i was distracted. everything is my fault.

[Jungkook - 6:51 PM] will you still meet me for dinner?

You toss your phone aside, leaving his texts unanswered. His last message makes you wonder though. You want to go to a fancy dinner and just pretend for a night that nothing ever went wrong between the two of you. Might as well pretend to get ready, pretend that Jungkook could love you the same way, pretend to be happy.

“Pitch, you love me, don’t you?” You murmur, running your hands along his spine before standing to prepare for what could’ve been a good night.

It wasn’t that Jungkook didn’t love you, it was that he couldn’t love you the same way you did him.

Pitch lets out a content meow, following after you into your bedroom.

You pick out the dress hanging in your closet, laying it down on your bed.

“I’m not going to forgive him so easily, Pitch,” you say as Pitch seems to give you a look saying ‘really?’. “I just want to feel good about myself for once,” you huff. This is all for you. Maybe you'll dress up and stay on the couch all day eating ice cream and watching movies. Fancy dresses don’t have to mean fancy dinner. Fancy dresses are just a confidence booster.

Minutes turn to an hour and you’re finally ready for absolutely nothing—no date, no night out with your friends—just nothing. But you feel good, a little better than before, looking at yourself in the mirror.

“His loss,” you confidently say, trying hard to convince yourself to stay positive.

[Jungkook - 7:32 PM] hey im at the restaurant if you decide to meet me… i really hope you do. Let’s start over.

[Jungkook - 7:35 PM] i’ll wait if thats what it takes.

Reading his texts make you feel guilty for standing him up, but you won’t go. You stay put right where you are, comfortably lounging on the couch with a tub of ice cream and Pitch at your side.

“He’s just going to have to sit there a little while longer.”

When Pitch jumps off the couch running over to his litter box, you sit back with a sigh, playing with the hem of your dress.

When the clock touches half-past eight o’clock, the door unlocks and Jungkook walks through with a bouquet clutched in his hands. He’s as dressed up as you are, wearing a tucked in a white button-up with black slacks. He stops once he sees you, dressed up and alone.

“You look,” he’s awestruck, “beautiful.”

“Thank you… You look good too,” you awkwardly say, eyes darting around to avoid his

“Oh,” he flushes, flattening out the front of his shirt. He realizes the flowers in his hands, holding out to you hesitantly. “I-I bought you flowers.” The scarlet petals almost match the shade of his cheeks as he presents the red flowers wrapped in a thin layer of plastic to you.

You take them from him, running your fingers delicately over the petals.

Glancing over at the purple and black bruise Jimin had given him last night, you almost wince at the sight. “How are you?”

Jungkook grimaces, “I’m okay, I guess. I-I waited for you. At dinner. You never showed so the waiter felt kinda bad for me,” he faintly chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets, “he said I could come back again if ‘my date ever changed her mind’ and let me make a new reservation.”

You nod slowly, twisting the frills of your decorative pillows. It’s just silence, then—

“I was fucking stupid for kissing her,” he admits suddenly, “I swear, I would take it back. I-I just… we were together for a long time. It’s hard to just forget how I feel.”

“So now what?”

“I told her I can’t be with her that’s why I left last night. I… I love you. Let’s start over and let’s do this right.”

The twinge you feel in your chest, the sinking feeling in your stomach, tells you how guilty he really is.

Jungkook rounds the corner of the couch to sit beside you, thighs touching, reminding you of last night. You scoot away, placing the flowers between your bodies to separate yourselves.

“Stop.”

He accepts the distance, not wanting to push you further away.

“I’m sorry. I-I just want a second chance to prove that I do care about you.” The genuine look in his eyes shows you only regret and the promise to make it up.

You look down at the flowers between the two of you, picking at the petals. You don’t want to lose Jungkook as a friend, even if he did break your heart. He will always be your best friend. He wants to make it work, and you want to give him a chance to make it up. Maybe you won’t fully return the feelings that were once there, but you can still make an effort to forgive him.

“Okay. Let’s start over.”