#AND I MIGHT HAVE THIS STUPID MEETING WITH A GUY I KNOW TOMORROW TO PAINT HIS GUITAR BUT I DONT WANT HIM TO !!!!!!

[junkie-virus]

i endure the most evils (<- brother watching movie in my vicinity so i cant sleep)

[wh6res]

three's a crowd | nomin

synopsis. picking favorites is impossible when you like neither of them.

warning. read at your own risk. abuse, bullying, poly relationship, yandere themes, manipulation, nonconsensual touching, noncon, degradation, smut threesome oop

disclaimer. i do not condone whatever tf i wrote in this nor does it reflect my beliefs or values or morals and such. it is all pure fiction and i also dont think jaemin or jeno would act like this in real life.

note. this was meant to be a new year's gift lmao i obviously got a lil carried away 👀 anyway a late happy new year to you all! we survived 2020, let's start living in 2021, yeah? lmao if covid lets us grr mwah!

the relationship you had with the two of them was a weird one, bordering on taboo, but it wasn't as if you willfully chose to be who they wanted you to be and it took jaemin's unwanted pining and jeno's intimidating demeanor for you to fall right into their arms.

it was a joint effort on their part, you couldn't've possibly stood a chance.

"this many?" the cashier asked. "are you sure?"

stepping back and studying the whole situation, you figured you only had your addiction to caffeine and procrastination to blame. it was a chain reaction you didn't even know will lead up to your inevitable doom.

if you hadn't been slacking off during your first semester of junior year college, you wouldn't be forced to overwork yourself trying to catch up to the looming deadlines, but to be able to 'work yourself to the bone' you need your boost of energy… and that was when you met one of them.

"uhm," you scratch the back of your head sheepishly as you eye the six glass bottles of iced coffee. sure, it looks bad and you kinda appreciate the look of concern the cashier throws your way but it was none of his business.

"yes. now could you, like, you know… hurry up? i'm in a little bit of a time crunch right now."

screw it. although you hardly snap like that with other people on a daily basis, it'll be a whole different conversation if you were under a significant amount of stress and today, unfortunately, is one of those days.

now can he just fucking stop asking questions and give you your six bottles of death drink to keep your fucking brain going so you can pass an eight-page essay tomorrow? thank you very much!

the guy snickered, the beeping sound of a barcode being read sounding a thousand times more annoying than it usually sounds as he keeps his hand busy by punching your items out.

you fail to notice how he studies you through the gaps of his lashes, finding you interesting rather than threatening as you stood before him with your messy hair and oversized hoodie.

"haven't seen you around university grounds 'till today," he tries striking another conversation with you. "you new? i'm jaemin."

this was your first mistake, you shouldn't have been so… downright rude when you met him. if you were granted the miracle of meeting him a 2nd time, you would've acted more nice, throwing yourself at his feet even to blend in with the rest of his fangirls you didn't even know about at the time. you would've done anything to make sure he never gives you a second glance, to never pique his interest.

jaemin is the pep squad captain. flying over colored blue mats and doing tumblings in the air with no ounce of fear. he was the best in his team, that much was evident when your friend dragged you into watching a pep rally practice. his landings were clean, balanced, and executed to the best he can at all times.

no wonder he was popular, his talent is outstanding and his looks are a bonus. his killer combo of a smile and wink after pulling off a tough flip is enough to send them squealing in their seats.

he spotted you that day and since then, he snuck the quickest glances at the bench during practices. recognizing you as the coffee girl he met during his convenience store shift. jaemin tries not to let his disappointment show too much when he doesn't see you, but of course, a pair of cold calculating eyes could see right through him.

"i saw that," his boyfriend said, hand darting forward to hold jaemin's gym bag for him. "you kept looking at the crowd. do you want to see her that much?"

"but she reminds me so much of you, jeno!" he retorts, pouting at the slight grumpy tone the other boy used. "i can't help it. she doesn't seem to give a fuck around me so she's quite interesting. maybe she can even be a great addition to our relationship!"

"well," jeno replies after a beat of silence, plastering a small smirk on his face before slinging an arm around jaemin's shoulder.

"convince me?"

you don't like jaemin's attention. not in the slightest. and it seems that was enough reason for the reign of terror his little fanclub has subjected you too.

it wasn't the petty elementary forms of bullying like pulling at your hair or calling you names. they pale in comparison to the other things they do to you—beating you up, messing with your homework, "accidentally" dumping their food trays on you.

and you weren't stupid.

you knew exactly who was behind it, knew how jaemin spectates the whole thing from afar so that he can swoop in at the end to play your knight in shining armor.

"oh, you poor thing. do you need help?"

the first time you accepted his "help" you ended up in a supply closet near the gym during your free period, cornered and weak as your cries for help drowns under the squeaking of shoes and the booming sounds of rubber balls hitting the floor.

if it weren't for jeno appearing out of thin air and prying the boy off of you, you would've been painted blue and red from the death grip he had on your wrist, neck, and waist.

you can still remember feeling the soreness of your scalp from when he pulled your hair too hard. remembered feeling his teeth gnawing at your lips as if he wanted to tear them off.

that time hadn't been the first time you saw jeno. you've shared a few classes with him and it strikes you how polar opposites they are with one another.

while jaemin likes to bask in his professor and classmates' recognition by confidently reciting his answers, jeno would rather keep to himself. liked sitting at the last row, near the window, so he'd be the first to go once the professor ends their lecture. while jaemin loved the attention of his fangirls, jeno preferred solitude. while jaemin is impulsive and wild, jeno liked to think things through.

it was within these reasons that you decided to do what you did. but your judgement of character has never been more wrong.

you approached jeno one day in the library, tried to make yourself appear as stoic and confident as possible. but your constant slouching and averting eyes was a dead giveaway.

you came to talk to him about what jaemin has been doing, hoping there's one person left in this entire school that isn't under the cheer captain's trance. the one reasonable person that has already saved you once and (hopefully) is willing enough to save you again. the only one that probably has a certain level of control over jaemin, if the supply closet incident is anything to go by.

but you've overestimated lee jeno.

"you should've just given jaemin what he wanted."

"but—but aren't you two lovers? isn't it bothering you?"

you try baiting him, only for an uncomfortable shiver to start crawling down your spine when he chuckled humorlessly, pushing his school materials to the side while pinning you with an unreadable stare.

how can a person make someone feel so small just by a gaze alone? it was nothing like you've felt with jaemin. this is way worse.

"the only thing that's bothering me is why you're not ours yet."

you feel cold fingers creeping their way under your shirt, going higher and higher until it brushes against your bra. and when your eyes meet, the look on his face was unmistakable—what are you going to do about it, huh?

you stood up in lightning speed, the chair you've been sitting on scraping loudly against the floor.

you've never ran out as fast as you did.

and jeno swears it'll be the last.

you tried everything in your power to ignore them for the next following weeks but it soon became useless when the two boys took it upon themselves to give you your space.

although judging by the pinpricks you feel on your back, and the constant weight of a stare you feel on your shoulders, you knew they weren't done with you yet. far from it. and for some reason, you just knew they wanted to lull you into a false sense of security first before striking again.

and while they continued to ogle at you from afar like a hawk circling its prey in a desert, you took it upon yourself to return the favor. not because you were the slightest bit interested in those creeps but maybe, just maybe, if you look hard enough you'll find a way out, a weakness.

but what you realized made your insides churn in great discomfort—although it may seem that jeno holds the reins in the relationship since his reserved nature fits the role, it's actually the other way around.

jaemin might appear too self-centered, too focused on himself to give a fuck about his surroundings but in actuality, he has quite a knack for reading people. even more so than jeno. and it was scary how he used it to his advantage, and paired up with his devoted fangirls? it was hell on earth.

you found it alarming how the two seem to magically appear wherever you are.

although you weren't in the least bit surprised. for some reason, you can't take your eyes away when jaemin's devotees flock around him (and jeno) in a circle.

it almost reminds you of a shoal of piranhas, waiting for their meal to drop into the water before ripping it to shreds with their teeth. only their "meal" isn't actual flesh but the carefully crafted words jaemin says that drive them into a sick frenzy.

one that has them doing everything in their power to satisfy him like the loyal dogs they are.

so this was how he got them to bully you?

"oh, that? don't worry! yangyang just ran into me during cheer rehearsal. no biggie. my cheek stung a little bit, though…" is what he said but really he's telling them "scruff him up a bit for me, why don't ya?"

"of course, i can't be the best all the time. haechan is just too good, maybe even better than me…" is what he said but really he's telling them "can you remind him where his place should be?"

all the while jeno did nothing to hold him back.

no matter how wrong jaemin is, how much of an asshole he is, jeno will stick by his side through and through. so as much as jaemin is a puppeteer that gets a kick for controlling people, jeno is as much at fault for looking the other way.

because in jeno's perspective, why the fuck would he do shit when he can just get off from the entertainment that comes with jaemin's sweet little mind games?

we lost :(

you had been busy sorting through paperwork for one of your professors in the faculty when your friend texted you the results of the intercollegiate cheer dance competition. a frown paints your face, heart feeling heavy at the bad news.

in all honesty, you still supported the pep squad—you just hated the captain and his boyfriend. they've been practicing non-stop for this and prior to the weeks of the competition, jeno looked a lot more tense and jaemin less smiley than usual. you swore you even saw the latter snap at one of his fangirls.

not to mention, they paid less attention to you, too, and it was the best three weeks of your life.

tension starts rising in your shoulders, fingers absentmindedly running through the edge of the papers you had been sorting until you became immersed with your thoughts.

jaemin must be in the worst mood yet.

and jeno too, probably. if anything, that guy gets triggered the most when something bad happens to jaemin or when he catches snippets of people talking shit about his oh so "perfect" boyfriend.

jeno is a lot scarier when jaemin is in one of his mood swings, you noticed. he steps up in the relationship to offer comfort to the other boy and for outsiders? it isn't a great experience to go through—being on the receiving end of jeno's ice cold stare is a position you don't want to find yourself in after that time in the library.

he is still as much a threat to your peaceful life like his lover.

you snap out of it when the blinding headlights of a vehicle seep through the closed blinds. you hear the gentle hum of an engine switching off as the headlights vanished as quick as they had appeared. that must be the cheer squad's bus.

as you look around the empty faculty room, something in your gut tells you to ditch file sorting duty for professor kim tonight and fucking get the hell out of campus grounds as quick as you can.

after haphazardly throwing the unsorted papers back into the cabinet, you groan aloud when the keys to the office drop out of your skirt’s pocket.

the indoor gym where the cheering squad practices is right across the hallway. you sure as hell don't want to bump into jaemin. or jeno, too, if he had decided to ride along the cheer squad's bus on the way home.

you kept looking for the keys underneath the cubicles, cursing aloud when you heard the telltale squeaks of shoes rubbing against linoleum. you almost hit your head against a table when you quickly got back up your feet, darting forward to shut the lights for the faculty room.

they can't know you're here. alone. and if it meant sitting in the dark for a few hours 'till they leave, meant going back home a little later than usual is what you have to do then so be it.

you try not to react so violently when the door you're leaning on jolts when someone from outside slams their back against it.

"it's not like we didn't do our best, right guys? i don't have regrets. it might sound fucking cheesy and although i'm sad myself, atleast we did what we can."

it's jaemin. his voice clear as day.

you try peaking, craning your neck up from your place on the floor. only to see the back of his head leaning against the glass section of the door. someone else joins in on the conversation, followed by coach park himself, and you slowly tune out whatever they're saying as you stealthily start scanning the faculty room.

you curse under your breath. is there no other exit other than this door? jesus christ! even classrooms in this university had two doors—

"what are you doing here?"

the switch flickers on, basking the once dark room with light. only when you hear an echo of your name being called, did you snap out of it and quickly picked yourself up from the floor.

"i said, what are you doing here?"

their coach asks, drilling the question as he looks at you skeptically with his arms crossed. you try not to look at the people behind him.

particularly, not at his cheer captain standing on his right.

particularly, not at jeno, who stands out like a sore thumb with his blue hair, a protective arm snaked around jaemin’s shoulders.

this isn't your lucky day, too, you guess.

"i was…" you cursed yourself for stuttering. "i was, uhm, i was file sorting for prof—professor kim, sir."

coach park looked like he didn't believe you as he narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. your nerves are going haywire and you can feel the sharp pins of their stare with how close they are.

you kept juggling your weight with the balls of your feet, hands fisting and unfisting behind your back. you want to leave. you have to leave.

"file sorting… in the dark?" he asked incredulously.

fuck this.

"uhm, you can ask professor kim himself tomorrow, coach. for now, uh, i'll be going now. i'm sorry you guys lost…"

originally, the exit is on the right side, at the end of the hallway. but no, you are not going to pass by those two while on your way out so you ducked behind a random student standing on the coach's left instead and practically ran away from the scene.

everyone had been too busy. too busy looking at your retreating form to even notice jaemin and jeno exchanging glances, too busy to notice the latter untangling himself from their captain to slip away unnoticed, his hurried steps filled with a burning purpose.

you didn't know why you ran, but you did. your shoes practically booming against the floor as you sped away through darkened hallways. you're sweating profusely, heart hammering in your chest. you can worry about professor kim tomorrow but right now you just had to—

"why are you in such a rush, pet?"

crashing into jeno felt like crashing into a wall. if it hadn't been for his arm quickly wrapping around your waist, then you would've landed on your butt before him.

with the small distance between the two of you, jeno could see as clear as day through your eyes.

jaemin was right.

it was addicting to stare into them.

especially when he can see every single one of your thoughts flying through your pretty little head. but hey, it wasn't their fault you were so easy to read.

jeno barely conceals the wicked smirk on his lips when your hands come up to his chest, trying to push him away but to no avail.

he can see your eyes shifting from shock, to confusion, until it finally settles on fear—to which it's slowly becoming a favorite emotion of his to see on your face.

"you know, jaemin is in a really shitty mood right now. and we were wondering, maybe you can cheer us up?"

no. this can't be happening.

"jeno, please." your dilated eyes and disheveled hair made his blood run south. "let me go. you don't want me. you don't need a third party in your relationship."

you yelp when he lets you go, literally shoving you against a wall—which you found out is actually a door, as it swings open as soon as your body crashes against it.

with jeno looming unforgivingly before you in his full height, the tears stung extra hard but you won't let them fall.

if he wanted to bask in the image of your weakness then it'll be something you'll deprive from him for as long as you can.

"i don't need a stupid bitch like you to tell me what i feel." he scoffs. "don't fucking kid yourself, you little whore—i don't want you. i'm not jaemin."

the echo of the classroom door shutting closed surged through you like a wake up call.

this is really happening.

you've always led a decent life, had done nothing too questionable and you've always thought maybe life will spare you if you lived quietly enough. but the feel of jeno's freezing hands crawling against your skin felt like life itself had spat at you in the eye and left you to rot in a ditch.

"i've always liked how you wore skirts," he comments. playing with the ruffled hem of the soft fabric as he purposely grazed his knuckles against your supple thighs. "gives me easy access, don't you agree?"

you scream when he flips your skirt up to reveal the innocent pink of your cotton panties. it was as if a switch had flipped inside of you and the will to fight started coursing through your veins.

"stop! jeno! i don't want this!"

his brows furrow, grunting as he struggles to push the waistline of your skirt up higher with how much you're thrashing underneath him. you buck your hips, tried curling in on yourself, anything to prolong what he wants to do to you.

with your legs trapped underneath his, you blindly reach forward, relying on your upper body instead to push and scratch whatever your palms and nails reached.

you continue screaming like a banshee until he shoved two fingers into your wet cavern.

"stop fighting me," he sounded strained, as if he's holding himself back. you feel him fisting the fabric of your skirt and you fear he's simply going to rip it apart.

you tried responding to him, only the sound had been muffled, gurgled by the flat of his fingers pushing down against your tongue mercilessly. when you reach forward to push him away, your hands land on the apple of his cheeks, nails digging through skin.

until it slips and—

you lie rigid when red scratch marks in the size of your fingernails slowly appear on jeno's skin, his head turned to the side as he paused. your actions slowly start sinking in to him as he shuts his eyes and bit his lip 'till it looked like it was about to bleed.

oh no.

"jeno—"

the slap he planted on your cheek left your ears ringing. all those hard earned muscles of his put to good use—if the tears hadn't fallen for the last few minutes, then it definitely started falling now.

the hit had been so strong, a few of your hair flew astray, the buzzing feeling of your skin tempting you to reach a hand up to soothe your abused cheek.

until jeno let out a low growl and your hand immediately drops limp against your body, afraid of whatever else he can do to you other than a slap.

"that's more like it," he whispers under his breath. you let out the tiniest of whimpers when his hand darts forward to fist your hair. "do you know what happens to bad girls? they fucking get busted up. do you understand me?"

his patience is nonexistent.

jeno slams your head against the floor when you don't answer because you thought his question had been rhetorical. it felt like your skull had been split in two as you wail in pain.

"are you fucking deaf—i asked you a fucking question!"

the hand that cups your jaw is painful as he squeezed your cheek with his blunt nails. your hand shoots up to wrap around his wrist, silently pleading for him to let up as you sobbed out loud. you started nodding as best as you can despite his firm grip on your face.

your reply was nothing short of pathetic. with lips forcefully pursed and the steady stream of your tears and snot rolling down your face, your response is gargled and hardly incoherent and jeno seemed to thoroughly enjoy your anguish if the condescending curl on his lips is anything to go by.

"look at you," he whispers, his face coming close to yours as he holds you down. there was something in the way jeno stared so intently that it made your skin crawl.

"i think you're prettiest when ruined like this."

with his nose touching yours, he felt too close, bordering on intimate as you felt his hand creep back up your thighs, trailing up with feather-like touches that made goosebumps appear on your skin.

you tried wiggling your legs underneath him but one sharp look from jeno is enough to make you stop.

the hand holding your face moves. coming down from gripping your face to encircling his hand around your neck.

"do you like it when i touch you? freaky bitch."

his hands trail further up, up, up until you felt him slotting a finger underneath your panties.

jeno didn't like how frozen you were underneath him as he pulls at the hem before letting go. the elastic snapping back against your skin.

the action evokes a strong feeling through the young male, promising to have you writhing and screaming and begging because by the end of all this, you'll be so needy and frustrated that you will have no choice but to give in to what your body wanted.

"jeno, didn't i tell you to play nice?"

someone stands by the door, the minimal light from the hallway creating a silhouette with his form but you knew who he was. that deep voice, with the same annoying flippant tone, is a dead giveaway.

you didn't know why you even hoped in the beginning. as if there'll be someone who can save you from these two.

you thought the flash of hurt in your eyes was quick to disappear but jeno noticed it quicker.

in a span of seconds, he pulled you up from your position from the ground and tugged you towards his lap. you haven't even gotten the time to settle on your new position when he already smashed his lips against yours.

it was messy. too much saliva. too much teeth. no tenderness to it at all.

the fabric of his jeans felt rough, not to mention the ice cold belt buckle made you severely uncomfortable as it seeps through the thin fabric of your skirt.

when you attempt to hover over his lap, jeno grunts as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you back down without your lips breaking away from each other. you didn't know why he let out a whine, but you understood the moment you fully sat down on his lap and you felt a tent on his jeans hitting your clothed entrance perfectly.

in a normal circumstance, you would've found everything hot and might've actually gotten off from it but not when it's him who’s doing this to you and you didn’t consent to any of this.

you start squirming again. palms lying flat against jeno's chest as you attempt to push him away and jaemin sees this as the opportune moment to slot himself behind you, caging you in between them.

“i want my turn,” he hisses and without an ounce of hesitation, jeno stops to do what he's told.

jaemin doesn't waste any second to grab your face, awkwardly craning your neck up to meet his lips in the same feverish kiss.

while jeno had been all teeth and aggression, practically forcing you to open your mouth and kiss him back, jaemin on the other hand is more soft, more romantic, you daresay. he seemed to like taking his sweet time by clutching your face, kissing you like he actually meant it.

he pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against yours as he murmurs something incoherent under his breath and then he's kissing you again.

you think you heard something along the lines of, "finally."

you've been too distracted by jaemin to notice jeno's nimble fingers quickly fumbling with the buttons of your blouse. it was only when you feel the sensation of his tongue laving against the swell of your breast did you turn away from jaemin, jerking backward in surprise.

"no—!"

your scream is cut off by a hand cupping your mouth. jaemin pulls your back towards his chest, molding your body against his as jeno licked and suckled all he wanted, thankful to have the other boy there to not worry about restraining you and keeping you quiet while he has his fun.

"ah, ah, ah," jaemin teases, going hard over the pleading and teary look you sent his way. it looked pathetic, he wasn't going to lie, but it doesn't mean he didn't love it. "just keep still and appreciate jeno's efforts to take care of you, alright baby?"

you don't like how he talked as if this was all a mutual thing, how he talked slowly like you were some toddler who didn't understand anything.

it's cruel how jaemin giggled and basked in your vulnerable state as he kept his eyes pinned on you while undoing the zipper of your skirt. your muffled cries of his name only serving to egg him on.

the way he stared was similar to jeno, too intently and intrusive, like he wants to burn your image of despair in the back of his head.

you whined involuntarily when jeno got bored of all the licking and thus decided to start biting and nipping at your chest instead. he was hypnotised by how responsive you were, how every little bite and nibble made you shudder.

it was a shame that jaemin had to cover your mouth. he didn't get to hear your pretty mewls but it wasn't as if he'd let the night end without hearing them loud and clear.

jaemin is fast in undressing you, feeling slightly betrayed by how quick your skirt and blouse fell under his hands.

you know what he wants, what he's going to do, and the tears fall harder when you can't dodge away from him. forced to endure and accept whatever they give you.

"you act like you don't like it but look how fucking wet you are," you bit your lip hard when jaemin starts circling the pads of his fingers against your clit, fascinated by how more juices streamed down your thighs.

"jeno, do you see this? fuck."

you can only blink in defeat, staring off to the side as you force down any noise bubbling up your throat, forcing yourself to think of anything else other than what's happening right now.

you try not to think about how they managed to tear all of your clothes off while they're left completely dressed. tried not to think about the fingers lazily drawing up and down your slit to collect your essence.

if they're doing this as a way to further humiliate you, it's working.

"slut," jeno mocked, a wicked curl on his lips when he wraps his fingers around your throat. the moment he dives down to claim your lips again is the same time jaemin pushes two fingers inside you.

"look at how wet you are because of me," jaemin whispers hot against your ear and you feel a sick churn in your stomach when you feel his smile against your skin.

he purposely drives his fingers in and out quicker, settjng a brutal pace, wanting you to hear the lewd squelching sounds. "hear that? do you hear that, darling? that's because of me—"

"don't go talking big now, jaem," jeno retorts, pulling away from your lips to start nibbling on the back of your ear. "i was here first. did you see how she fucking reacted when i sucked on her tits?"

you're quick to catch how jeno particularly loved degrading you. but how he talks about you as if you're literally not in front of him naked made you hit a new all-time low.

you felt… filthy.

his hands find purchase on your butt—only because jaemin has already claimed the front. for now.

you close your eyes tight when he painfully squeezes the flesh of your ass. you swear, his blunt nails will paint your skin black and blue.

"i'm the favorite!"

"i'm the favorite!"

as someone who's part of a varsity team, you already knew a competitive nature runs through jaemin's veins. but never had you thought jeno would share the same sentiment. once again they prove that they're cut from the same cloth.

all of a sudden it wasn't all about claiming you as theirs anymore rather it was all about who can make you moan the loudest, who can make you cum the most, who can make you feel the dirtiest you can be.

you're absolutely terrified for the hours to come.

thankfully, they have yet to ask for your verbal opinion or validation. they let your body do all the talking—every repressed shudder and sharp gasp is enough.

but it's game over once they pop the million dollar question.

"who do you like best?"

you don't want to find out the consequences if you actually answered their question because you didn't know what could be worse.

jaemin's manipulation or jeno's aggression?

but it was all normal. trial and error is inevitable in order to build and mold you into the ideal lover for the both of them.

because adding someone new to the mix has never been easy—after all, three's a crowd.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-Eight

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: the beginning of the end :,) if u made it this far i think ur cool

***

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” Lana asks.

Nesta closes her eyes, letting the picture swirl and take shape in her mind.

This time last year, she would have imagined nothing. Nothing but a desk in a busy law office, and maybe a nice apartment if she was lucky. That would be it. But now she sees…

“Somewhere with good food and good music,” she muses. “Maybe a sea breeze.” The sun-faded buildings of Portofino fade into the foreground of her imagination. “There are lots of people with me,” she hears the sound of children shrieking and Cassian’s rumbling laughter, “but it’s okay, because I love every one of them.” Her eyes open. “Is that a good answer?”

A near invisible smile tugs at the corners of Lana’s lips. “You tell me, Nesta. Do you like what you see?”

“It’s a little too cinematic if you ask me,” Nesta says nonchalantly, picking up her bag from the ground, “but I suppose all dreams are that way.”

“It’s a good dream,” Lana says. “A worthy dream, and one you deserve to chase.”

Nesta shrugs lightly, not too worried about the burden of the future for once. “Maybe I will.”

“In that case, congratulations on completing your final therapy session,” Lana says, setting her notebook aside. “You’ve made some amazing progress this year.”

Nesta gives her therapist her signature what’s-wrong-with-you look. “I’m going on vacation, not firing you for good. I’ll see you again in two months.”

“Two months can be enough to lose all your progress, if you forget everything you went through to get here.”

Nesta isn’t stupid. She knows that she isn’t suddenly desperate to make babies or be maid of honor at her sisters’ weddings or some bullshit. She knows that the image she just dreamed up, with Cassian and kids and her unburdened heart, is likely more than five years away. If it happens at all, it could be ten, even twenty years of hard work away.

She’s not nearly finished growing yet. “I’ll see you in two months, Lana,” she repeats.

Lana smiles at her fully this time. “Enjoy your summer, Nesta.”

***

The air is different in the Smokies.

Nesta rolls the truck windows down so she can inhale it, relish it. Wind whips her hair every which way as they drive down the winding freeway cutting through the lush mountains, and something about the look on her face makes Cassian chuckle and press down on the accelerator.

Nesta watches the red needle on the speedometer cross ninety, then one hundred. She can barely feel the June heat with how fast they’re going.

In the end, it was Feyre and Elain that reached out and invited her to the Tennessee summer home. Cassian had made it obvious that he wouldn’t push her to go if she didn’t want to, and at first she really didn’t want to. But Feyre had looked so hopeful when she asked Nesta to come with them, and even Elain had revealed a glimmer of eagerness that Nesta would say yes.

So against all odds, she agreed to go.

Exchanging one mountain home for another isn’t much of a getaway, but Nesta can’t help but be excited. Even with the unhappy memories of her childhood, she loves these hills more than any other.

The pure exhilaration of being back in Tennessee overcomes her at some point during the drive, knocking her out in the passenger seat where she sits. In her drowsy state, she distantly hears the windows being rolled up, before feeling Cassian’s hand guide her head to rest against the glass. The rest of the drive is warm and sunny, enough to lull her into a deep sleep.

The next thing Nesta’s aware of is the crunch of gravel and the feeling of the truck tires slowing to a stop. Fingers brush against her heated cheek, and then Cassian is murmuring at her to wake up.

Blinking her eyes open, Nesta twists around to see their destination.

For a moment, she thinks she’s still dreaming.

“Welcome to Holly House,” Cassian says with a grin. The house in question is quaint and sprawling at the same time, the way most upper class Southerners like their houses. The whole thing gleams with a fresh coat of white paint under the afternoon sun, complemented by a sky blue wraparound porch. Colonial style windows and proud columns decorating the facade of the building makes it look like the setting of a fairy tale.

Beyond it, Nesta can see cherry blossoms. Pink, fluttering cherry blossoms that fly off their branches and swirl through the air, some of them disappearing into the thick woods behind the house. Woods that Nesta has walked countless times before.

“The rest of the guys won’t get here until tomorrow afternoon,” Cassian is saying to her, “so we have the whole place to our—”

Nesta isn’t listening anymore. She unbuckles her seatbelt and shoves open the truck door, hobbling outside on unsteady feet to make sure she isn’t hallucinating things. But no, this is…

“Cherrywood,” she breathes, eyes wide in disbelief.

Cassian gets out of the truck, coming up beside Nesta to slip his hand into her shorts pocket. “What’s wrong? You okay?”

“This is Rhysand’s summer home?” Nesta points at the house. “This place?”

Cassian looks around at the building grounds in confusion. “Has been for the last two decades, yeah.”

It’s been eleven years since she last stepped foot on these grounds.

With wonderment in her voice, she utters to Cassian, “I’ve been here before.”

At his puzzled look, she explains, “I lived just on the other side of those woods.” She points to the trees. “There’s an old cracked road that hasn’t been maintained since it was first paved, and you can follow it straight to the poor side of town. Whenever I wanted to get away, I would come down that road and trek through the woods, and I’d end up here. I stopped coming because…” she trails off.

Because she got caught that one time.

Cassian seems to realize it at the same moment as her. His hand slips out of her pocket. “You…”

Nesta remembers a tall boy with shocked eyes and shaggy hair, and she shakes her head slowly in forceful denial. It can’t be true. It’s too much of a coincidence.

But he points at her, then her feet. “You—with the size six Converse,” he sputters. “It was you.”

Before Nesta can confirm or deny it, he grabs her by the wrist and starts tugging her along, up the porch stairs and inside the house.

Even with Rhysand and Feyre’s renovations, it looks undeniably the same as all those years ago. The living room is to her right and the farmhouse style kitchen and dining area is to the left, though she speeds by it all as Cassian pulls her farther inside the house, to the closet beneath the curving stairs.

He lets go of her hand to search the small closet, muttering, “I know they were here somewhere.” But the closet looks like it was stripped empty for renovations, with only bolts in the walls indicating that shoe racks used to hang there.

Cassian turns and heads for the stairs, and Nesta blindly follows him. She also wants to go upstairs, wants to see if the bay window looking out onto the garden has stayed the same.

Like he read her mind, he leads her straight to the room she used to spend hours reading in. It’s smaller than all the other bedrooms in the house, but it’s always been her favorite because of the view.

As Cassian keeps looking for whatever it is he’s looking for, upturning boxes and checking beneath furniture, Nesta drifts toward the bay window. She looks from the cherry blossom trees outside, to the full-sized bed, to Cassian, and a weight drops even heavier in her gut. She has to reach out and grip the edge of the dresser for support.

Finally, Cassian pops out of the closet victorious. In his hand are a pair of ragged shoes that Nesta hasn’t worn in a long, long time.

He comes over and drops them with a thud at her feet.

“Whose room is this?” she asks with a rough voice, still staring down at the shoes.

“Mine,” he answers simply.

“Oh.” She met him before. She met him before.

When Nesta dares to look up and meet Cassian’s eyes, what she finds there nearly robs her of breath: wonder, astonishment, and unwavering fealty. He breaks into sudden wholehearted laughter, which dazes her even more.

“What’s so funny?” she demands.

Cassian gets out between laughs, “What was it Rhysand said about Feyre? When they found out they were close to crossing paths when they were younger?”

Nesta’s earth-tilting shock slowly slips away, replaced by a stern look. “Don’t say it.”

He pretends to remember. “I think it was fate.” A wicked smirk pulls at his lips at Nesta’s resigned sigh. “But I have another word for it, too.”

“Don’t say that, either.” She pleadingly holds up her hands, only for Cassian to snatch one out of the air and intertwine his fingers with hers.

“Soulmate,” he says quietly, now less amused.

Nesta swallows thickly, not having any words for him. All she knows is that he is never going to let her live this down.

“Imagine if we’d gone to the same high school,” Cassian says to her later that afternoon as they lounge in his old room. “Fuck, I could’ve saved myself so much time with all those random girls.” They’ve been swapping childhood stories for the past hour, as if they might find more instances in their history of a red string tying them together.

Nesta doesn’t need coincidences or fateful run-ins to know that a string has always been wrapped around her ring finger, pulling her to Colorado and to that cabin. But for Cassian’s sake, she’ll gladly amuse him. “I would have been a freshman while you were a senior,” she says matter-of-factly. “It never could have happened.”

He hums in thought, head propped up in his hand, elbow propped up against the bay window seat. “Maybe if you were older. You would have been the smart, quiet girl, and I’d have been the player jock, and as soon as we locked eyes in math class, I’d be head over heels in love with you.”

Nesta cackles from where she sits in the window seat above him. “Now you’re just writing fanfiction.”

Cassian grins up at her but doesn’t send a rebuttal her way. The conversation falls into a lull, until Nesta has to reach out and ask, “What are you thinking?”

His smile turns a little sad. “That I wish we weren’t doing this right before I leave for another country.”

Right. That’s what’s been hanging over them the entire trip to Tennessee: that as soon as they get back to Colorado, Cassian is going to be on a plane to Milan.

Getting Keith O’Connell to quit—how exactly Cassian went about accomplishing it, he still won’t tell Nesta—left Rhysand at square one with his search for a team leader for his overseas venture.

When Cassian brought up the idea of taking the job to Nesta, he sounded like he hoped she would shoot him down, talk him out of it. He both wanted to go and was reluctant to leave, like his very soul was glued to his home and he didn’t want to unstick himself.

So Nesta, being his home, had to do the unsticking for him. She nearly accepted the year-long Milan position herself for Cassian’s sake, and it took weeks of coaxing and convincing to put him at ease about the whole thing.

“But we promised to go together for the first time,” he kept saying.

“We’ll still go together one day, and it’ll still be our first time there with each other,” she reassured him.

Eventually, he relented to her and Rhysand’s pressures with a single condition. “I’ll do six months. Not a year.”

Only Nesta knows deep down how much Cassian needs this opportunity. Though Cassian must know it a little bit too, because he wouldn’t have taken the job if he didn’t.

Nesta might have needed him in order to come out of her shell, but now he needs to get away from her in order to find his own shell. Something he can call his own, unburdened by his loyalties to the people he loves. So he can find who he wants to be for himself, without always being attached to her hip.

Rising to her feet, Nesta raises her arms in the air in a full body stretch. Her back and legs ache with being curled up in that window seat for so long without movement.

Dropping her arms, she holds out a hand to Cassian still sitting on the floor. “Come on,” she urges him. “Let’s go outside. I haven’t seen a Smoky sunset in years.”

“But it’s not evening yet,” he argues while taking her hand.

Outside, they explore the garden that leads into the woods while waiting for the sun to slink down the sky. Cherry blossoms ride the summer breeze wherever it takes them, resulting in Cassian sniffling and scratching at his neck as they walk hand in hand.

“Rhysand wanted to take these trees down and replace them with a flower garden for Elain,” he tells Nesta as they walk. His sinuses sound clogged, but he’s refused to go back inside until he’s explained every inch of the land to Nesta. “I convinced him not to because it would ruin the view from my bedroom window. Didn’t I make the right choice?” He throws a grin in her direction.

Nesta’s swallow is tight at that grin. “The view from your room was always my favorite part about the entire place. So yes, you did good.”

His eyes widen at that tidbit of information, and she can almost see him tucking it away as more Soulmate Evidence.

They stroll through the woods for a while, and Nesta points out the path she would take to get to Cherrywood—she still insists on calling it Cherrywood, even when Cassian argues that the house’s original name has been around since the sixties.

“Show me the rest of the way?” Cassian asks her, face lit up in boyish hope. “Show me where you ran away to that day I found you.”

Nesta almost expects the memory of the rundown apartment complex she grew up in to feel like being shoved into sludge: dirty, cold, and slimy. Instead, she finds she has no problem with looking back at her old home, no matter how many ugly memories she holds from there.

However, the dappled sunlight streaming in through the trees overhead has turned from yellow to dark gold, and she shakes her head in apology to Cassian. “Another day,” she promises him. “It’s almost sunset.”

They walk back to the house, rounding it until they reach the front. At the bottom of the hill that the house is perched on stands a pier that leads all the way out to the lake. Green mountains frame the lake from both sides, creating the perfect cradle for the sun to sink into.

They go all the way out to the edge of the pier, as if they’re trying to get as close to the sunset as physically possible. Dragonflies lazily swoop by as the lake is gradually painted in a hundred different colors.

Once there’s more darkness than light in the sky, Cassian nudges Nesta with one of the arms he has around her. “Look.” He points.

Along the shoreline of the lake, little dots of light have lit up to welcome the evening, their blinking glow so small that Nesta almost doesn’t catch it. Fireflies.

Nesta watches the insects flit in and out of the long grasses of the lake shore, getting tangled in the weeds and wildflowers. In that moment, she remembers something Cassian once confessed to her not long after his birthday.

I want to see more beautiful places with you.

Nesta ticks this beautiful place off the long list in her head—the first place out of many that she plans to see with Cassian.

More beautiful than the scene before her is the man in her arms. The man who was kind enough to understand a woman who barely understood herself, and to be her friend when she had none. The man who is extending his kindness right now by not having made any breaking-and-entering jokes about Nesta so far, though she’s sure he’ll pull them out eventually.

Discovering that she once found Cassian, just to let him slip by running away from him, only to find him again over a decade later—it comforts the tiny part of her that’s loath to say goodbye to him in two weeks.

Like Cassian is thinking the same thing, he murmurs into the dark, “I can’t wait to come back to you.”

Nesta huffs in amusement. “You haven’t even left yet.”

“I know.” After a moment, he adds in a low voice that not even the fireflies can hear, “Thank you for convincing me to go.”

She reaches up to squeeze his bicep. “Always.” And then she adds what she really wants him to hear: “Don’t come back until you find what you’re looking for.”

“I better find it quick then,” he jokes. Still, he nods in promise against the side of her head.

The only sound after that is the chirp of cicadas and the occasional lap of water meeting the pier beams. Nesta and Cassian stay outside in the June heat long after the sky turns ink blue.

***

a/n: next chapter is just some ic bullshit so take all ur bittersweet sentimentality here and go

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[snowstark]

Growing Wings.

READ ON AO3 For @starkerfestivals | Fill: Mafia AU “Don’t fucking touch me,” Tony snarls, grabbing Peter’s wrists to rip them off of him. “Then don’t fucking talk,” Peter spits back. Tony growls and shoves him back, but Peter just pushes right up against him again, getting in his space. He can feel his warm breath on his face as he snarls, “You think I wanna hear your fucking voice after you left like that? Tell me why I shouldn’t just punch your lights out right now." And ouch, that kind of hurts. Tony shoves him off, jeering, “Well, you wouldn’t want to break my nose, sweetheart, we both know how much you love my pretty face.” “Yeah, enough to want to spit on it, maybe.” S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t the worst place to work. Tony’s been there for a while now, and he gets along just fine. Then, he gets sent back to a world that he thought he’d never return to. I have now achieved a blackout, yay! Thank you to @vaguekiwi for beta'ing!

The barstools are mahogany. They blend into the red-brown wood of the bar, illuminated by the glow of lights behind the bottles. The people blend in, too—clinking glasses and flashing scars as subtle hands exchange wads of bills and tight packets of pot, mingling amidst the sharp smell of whiskey and beer between them; leather jackets that conceal switchblades and guns, hung on large shoulders and frames like bedsheets on a king-sized bed. It all paints a cohesive picture, barely anything out of place.

Except for the boy sitting at the edge of the bar. The Parker heir.

He barely looks legal. Pink cheeks, scruffy brown hair, and pretty pink lips sipping at his daiquiri. There’s a fat golden ring on his index finger. He’s dressed to fit in, but with his youthful face and frilly drink, he looks more like he’s wearing daddy’s clothes than anything.

Tony wants to ruin him.

He wants to grab him by the scruff and drag him down from the throne he’ll be stepping up to and pull him into a kiss, wants to feel the heat of his breath on his neck, wants to… buy him a drink.

“That one’s on me.” Tony pulls a chair out to sit next to the boy, and opens his mouth to order a beer when— no. “Sex on the beach,” he tells the bartender, and gets a weird look from the both of them, accompanied by a smirk lacing the boy’s lips. Otherwise, silence. He waits for his drink to be fixed before taking a sip from it, swirling the liquid in the glass loftily before saying, “Want a taste?”

“Not unless it’s from your mouth.” Parker’s voice is pretty. It reminds Tony of a mockingbird’s song, a sound of nature itself, with each word spilling from his mouth a pretty melody.

Tony lifts his eyebrows. “What, you don’t want a pretty babe to take home?”

The Parker boy pointedly takes a sip from his daiquiri.

Tony feels his lips curve into a smile. Okay. He gets it. He’s pretty sure he sees the other’s eyes crinkle a bit too at the corners. “Tony,” he finally says.

“Peter.”

As if he doesn’t know.

“Pretty name for a pretty boy. You got someone to take care of you, treat you like you’re a diamond?”

“I am a diamond.” Peter tips his head back to take the rest of his daiquiri into his mouth in one large gulp. “And I can find someone to come and make me shine whenever I want.”

“Lucky guy, finding a gem in all this dirt.” Tony keeps his attention on the ice cubes clinking in his glass. “Makes me wonder if that’s what you come here for.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Peter set his empty glass down. He swipes the tip of his index finger along the rim of the glass, then pops it between his lips to suck on it before turning to face Tony, leaning in. He lets his hands rest gingerly on Tony’s shoulder, just barely gripping as he breathes into his ear, “Why don’t we take this home, Tony?”

Tony likes the way he says his name.

He thinks he’ll like it even more when Peter’s moaning it.

He lifts his gaze to meet Peter’s. Peter doesn’t budge, only pulling back the slightest bit, nose a few inches away from Tony’s. Tony watches his eyelashes flutter with each blink. It’s like a swan taking flight, feathers fluttering in the air and daring Tony to reach up to snag one for himself—a keepsake, or a trophy.

His lips quirk up when Peter gives him a look, clearly saying, well? Tony licks the lingering taste of his drink away from his lips so he can replace it with Peter. “Think your father’ll approve?”

Tony knows he won’t. Peter knows that too.

Peter smiles. “We’ll just have to keep quiet, won’t we?” His hands slide down to fist the front of Tony’s shirt and pull him out of his seat by it.

Tony barely remembers to toss a wad of bills onto the counter before he’s guided out of the bar.

-- -- --

Tony’s in the process of sticking a piece of gum underneath the briefing table when the meeting finally ends. Fury talked for a painfully long time today. Tony’s pretty sure he even saw Rogers’ eyes close a few times, and everyone knows that if Rogers is dozing, the situation’s bad.

His left foot’s fallen asleep. He stomps it subtly a few times before getting up from his seat. The room’s clearing out now, agents talking to each other and chuckling as they shuffle through the doorway. Tony stops by the door, letting Rumlow pass through before turning to Fury, who’s now digging through a box of donuts.

“You know,” Tony says when Fury doesn’t acknowledge him, “might be good for team morale if you actually share your snacks with everyone. Oh, and you know what? We really gotta work on these outfit designs. I mean, how do you expect us to get the job done when half of us are fighting a wedgie?”

Fury’s quiet for a few moments, but it doesn’t faze Tony. Fury’s either astronomically loud or terrifyingly quiet; there’s no in between.

Finally, he speaks. “Found the meeting boring, Stark?” Fury’s eye flicks up to him as he takes a monstrous bite from the donut. It sends sprinkles raining down onto the table and floor for some poor janitor to take care of later.

“Always is, Sir,” Tony replies.

“I’ll always wonder why I let someone with the attention span of a goldfish sign up.”

“Maybe because this goldfish has brought the most innovative ideas you’ve seen in the past three decades.” Tony reaches to snag a donut from the box, but Fury slaps his hand away. It hurts.

“You know, I caught wind of something new today. Toomes.”

Tony blinks. “We don’t deal with people like him.”

He doesn’t deal with people like him. Not anymore.

Fury carries on like he hasn’t even spoken. “Word has it that the Toomes are deep in debt with the Parker family. The Parkers want to collect; you think Toomes is just gonna hand over a small fortune that easily?”

Tony feels his heart leap into his throat at the words.

Parker. Parker. Parker. He repeats the name over and over in his head, and realizes that he’s been silent for a second too long. Fury’s looking at him with a raised eyebrow as he takes a fierce bite from his donut.

“Probably not,” he manages, sounding as dumb as he feels.

Fury sucks sugar off of one of his fingers. “It’s allegedly reported that Toomes’ men are going in to get rid of their debt through unconventional means.”

“They’re not paying them off.”

Fury snorts. “Hell, no. They’re going in to get rid of the Parkers. Which includes our little asset, Rumlow. Member of the Parker family since before the boy even became kingpin, he’s been… interested in testifying against the family if it means he gets a lesser sentence to bite him in the ass later. He’s the weak link in the family, and we need him alive.” He dusts his hands off. “Barnes has already volunteered to infiltrate the Parkers at the higher levels, but we need more people to go in, hang around at their front and get them talking.”

“Best of luck to them.” Tony swallows and looks away furtively.

Fury makes a disgruntled noise in his throat. “Rogers will step in if no one else wants the gig—seems eager to, actually—but really, Stark, I’m bringing this up because I thought you might be interested.”

“Me,” Tony repeats, fighting back the urge to swallow. His mind jumps to skin on skin, fingers lacing together amongst soft silky bed sheets.

“Sure.” Fury shrugs. “You think fast on your feet, and you know how to get out of sticky situations if anything goes south. You know it’s not every day that I offer an agent a job like this—it’s your chance to prove yourself, Stark.”

Tony sucks the inside of his cheek.

“We only need someone to watch Barnes’ back, sit around the area and report back if there’s an issue. It should be easy for someone like you, just mingling with the associates of the family, indulging in their favourite hobbies, bonding, you know how it goes.”

Does he?

“I…” Tony trails off. His eyes flick down to the box of donuts, lingering there for a few moments. Fury actually nudges it open for him, like it’s positive reinforcement for considering the gig. “Can I tell you my decision tomorrow?”

Fury grunts.

Tony takes that as a ‘yes’ and hurries out before Fury can say anything else.

-- -- --

It still smells the same, Tony realizes. Leather and alcohol accompanied by raucous laughter and cigarettes and money. It feels the same, too. The barstools haven’t changed, except the leather is cracked now. He runs his fingers over it. It’s like a scar, if someone ripped off a wing and let the flesh mould over with new skin.

He orders himself a drink. The bartender makes quick work of it and Tony gives her a nod of thanks before taking it from her. At least it’s not the same bartender.

It only takes him a few minutes to empty the glass. He signals for another, then turns ever so slightly to side-eye the big hunk of meat next to him. It’s not a face that he recognizes, and he’s not sure if he’s more disappointed or relieved by that fact.

Probably relieved.

“Long day?” he sighs, knowing as soon as the words come out of his mouth that it’s a stupid thing to say. It sounds green, sounds like two suburban dads at the bar of a family restaurant.

Tony gets completely ignored for his trouble. Okay, fair enough. He’s gotten rusty—which is good, he reminds himself.

He needs another drink.

He downs it in a few big swallows, which catches the attention of a couple people in the bar. He gulps past the burn and it means his voice rasps a bit when he tries again. “I had a run last night up on 116th, got jumped by like, ten guys.” He hesitates before adding, “I think they were with Toomes or something.”

He gets a few more eyes, and some heads tilting in his direction. Okay, interest. No engagement yet, but that’s okay.

Tony’s grip tightens around the glass in his hand and he plunges ahead. “Heard they’re gonna take a run at us about their debt to—” don’t say his name, he could at least pretend that wasn’t real right now “—to the boss. Think your head’ll be one of the ones they cut off?”

That gets the big guy to turn to him, a scowl on his face. “Toomes would be lucky to snip even one lock of my hair,” he growls. And, admittedly, the man has great hair.

“Hey, new guy!” Five others have swivelled in their seats, and one has his eyes fixed on Tony. “Toomes really planning something against the family?”

Tony smirks triumphantly and motions toward the bartender. “I’ll tell you all about it, friends. Drinks are on me.”

-- -- --

Peter lets out a soft yelp as Tony practically tackles him onto the bed, dragging him into a kiss. Peter’s fingers fumble as he yanks off his jacket and shirt, moaning against his lips, and Tony helps him out of them. He hears the sound of Peter’s pants dropping to the floor and his lips part in anticipation. It’s exhilarating to take apart Peter’s exterior piece by piece to reveal what’s inside, to take it for himself and ravish it.

“That hurts, you asshole,” Peter laughs as Tony nips from his jaw to his collarbone. Tony ignores him, just sucking a mark onto the pale expanse of skin right above his collarbone, and then twisting to kiss Peter.

Peter gasps into the kiss, and Tony swallows his noises up hungrily like his life depends on it. Peter gives a small whine and pushes him. Tony falls back onto the bed with a confused noise, propping himself up on his elbow. “What?” he pants. “You don’t— is something wrong?”

“No, ‘s just—” Peter licks his lips, cheeks flushed bashfully now. “You still have your shirt on.”

“Huh?” Tony looks down and feels a small smile tugging at his lips at the realization that Peter’s right. “Oh.” He swipes his hair back with a hand, flustered, and Peter bursts into laughter.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you,” Peter tells him teasingly, already reaching forward. He makes quick work of Tony’s clothes with clumsy, eager fingers, yanking and tugging at buttons and zippers before copying Tony’s actions from earlier, dusting a few kisses onto his jaw. Tony tips his head back, eyes fluttering shut again, settling back into that warm, fuzzy place in his head where everything he can feel and see and smell and taste is Peter.

Peter’s touches are more hesitant than his, less experienced, maybe. It makes him wonder if Peter’s ever really done more than make out with someone, or if he’s ever even been in bed with another guy.

His suspicions are confirmed when Peter pulls back the slightest bit and whispers, “Is this okay?” as he lets a hand slip down, eyes flicking up to his face uncertainly.

He’s younger than Tony; they’re both young, but Tony likes the idea of teaching Peter from scratch, moulding him from untouched putty to a sinning angel, claiming what’s his. He gives a small smile through half-lidded eyes. “Yeah,” he breathes, “you’re more than okay.”

It’s like the words settle the apprehension in Peter, because he relaxes, tense shoulders dropping in what’s probably relief. Tony doesn’t like the idea of Peter worrying when he’s supposed to be enjoying, so he just grabs him and flips him over, eliciting a surprised, “Oof!” from him. He grinds down on Peter, watching delightedly as Peter lets out an obscene moan, and he clamps a hand over his mouth.

“Thought you said we gotta stay quiet,” he whispers.

Peter licks the palm of his hand to coax it off of him. “We are quiet.”

“Not you,” Tony teases.

Peter scowls. “Fuck off.”

Tony kisses the pouty look off of his face. It slides away easily once his lips are slotted against Peter’s, wet and sloppy.

And then Peter surges up in a bout of energy, and Tony falls back with a surprised noise. “I wanna,” Peter pants as he dusts kisses on Tony’s neck, nuzzling and nipping, “I wanna— I want you to make me—”

Peter steals his breath from him with each kiss until his chest is tight and Tony has to push him away the slightest bit to gasp, “Your father— last chance to—”

Neither of them give a shit about Peter’s father. It’s foreplay at best, now. The thrill of getting caught, the feeling of ecstasy as they touch what’s forbidden, snagging an apple from the garden, it only urges them on like fuel added to fire.

“Still in the family, aren’t you?” Peter plays along, hands sliding down to Tony’s hips. “Least you’re not a fed.”

Tony barks out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah,” he agrees breathlessly. “Least ‘m not a fed.”

And then he takes Peter for himself, drinking in every little noise he makes as hunger ravishes his body, basking in the dove’s pretty noises.

-- -- --

“Another one!”

They all burst into laughter as the big blond guy—Thor, apparently—smashes his glass on the floor of the bar. The bartender rolls her eyes. Broken kitchenware isn’t a scarcity with Thor around here.

Tony’s not drunk. He’s spilled a couple of drinks instead of downing them, and he’s been sneaking refills of water instead of alcohol when he can. And, he can hold his liquor well. He’s not willing to risk his job to indulge himself.

He has, however, gotten the others to drink their fair share. They’re red-faced and all they can do is roar with laughter. It reminds him of how he used to do this too, come into the bar and share a drink or two before rushing off to press his lips to fair skin as hands push through his hair. For a split second, he feels a pang of longing in his chest.

He instantly forgets about it when Thor claps him on the chest. “Our— Our heads!” he booms, then snorts. “Toomes better watch out; we could step on ‘im even like this, crush his puny skull with our boots.”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” another guy snorts, elbowing Thor in the side. “Don’t you ‘member what happened last time? Parker had a nosebleed for days.”

The words make Tony jerk in his seat before he even realizes it, and then he turns back around. “Yeah, yeah, Rumlow better watch out, heard he’s a popular target,” he chuckles in an effort to regain his composure, lifting his hand to signal for another drink.

“Rumlow?” An unfamiliar voice sounds and they all turn around.

It’s another face that Tony doesn’t recognize, and it makes him realize once again just how long it’s actually been since he was last here. He takes a quiet sip from his drink, and the guy narrows his eyes at Tony.

Maybe he’s been here too long. He wants to check his watch, but he refrains.

“Rumlow ain’t here,” the guy says. He doesn’t budge, preventing Tony from sliding out of his seat. “Boss sent him to Siberia two days ago. I would know, ‘m his partner.”

One of the guys snorts. “You sure, Rollins? Last I heard, you two went through a little break-up. Did he dump you, or was it the other way around, big guy?”

There’s a loud cracking noise, and the guy falls off his seat, clutching a bloody nose. “Jesus fuck!”

They have the attention of the whole bar now, and yep, this has officially gone downhill. Like, to the depths of the earth, to the underworld where Hades resides type of bad. Tony can feel the palms of his hands getting sweaty.

Rollins gives Tony a lingering look. “What did you say your name was?”

Fuck. And that’s his cue to leave.

He tosses a wad of bills onto the counter, then says, “I gotta get home.”

“He didn’t say his name.” It’s Thor now, staring at Tony with wide, suspicious eyes now.

Tony would rather not get into a fight with Thor, or any of the guys here, really. They’re all massive.

He needs to get the fuck out of here and go straight to Fury to ask him what the hell is going on, because what does Rolllins mean Rumlow is in fucking Siberia?

“You need to see the boss,” Rollins says, and that’s the only warning Tony gets before the front of his shirt is roughly snatched in a massive paw.

“Whoa, whoa, big guy, I’m sorry—my name’s Anthony Howard; didn’t mean anything by it; just heard stuff about Toomes. Look, I really do gotta get home—”

And then Rollins yanks, making him trip forwards, and then there are hands gripping his shoulders and his wrists are being yanked behind his back like he’s getting arrested. He’s dragged off, and he prays that whoever the boss is, it’s not him.

But he knows that it is, and there’s no way he can avoid it now.

-- -- --

Tony’s there when Peter’s father is gutted like a fish.

He wraps his arms around the boy, letting him scream and cry until he’s exhausted, throat raw and scratchy from how hard he’s worked it. His cries sound more like the shrieks of a crow by the end of it, and Tony runs a hand down his spine in an effort to soothe him.

“You’re okay,” he says, voice low, and Peter shudders and shakes his head in a small, jerky movement. He doesn’t believe it yet, but Tony knows he will be.

He doesn’t stop to wonder whether they’ll be alright.

He’s there when Peter steps up.

He’s there when Peter rules like the king he was meant to be.

He’s there when Peter ruthlessly rips off the wings of the mockingbird inside himself to lock them up in a cage and leave them to rot. He’s there when Peter transforms into an eagle, a bird of prey; he’s there when Peter stops singing.

Until one night, he’s not there. He’s slipping out of the compound, silent as a field mouse running away from an eagle under the gaze of the silver moonlight.

And he’s not there when Peter wakes up.

-- -- --

At first glance, Tony thinks Peter looks the same. But then he takes a second look, and he sees that he’s grown a bit taller, his face isn’t as youthful, and he has a small, healed scar on his cheekbone, just a faint white line. Most people wouldn’t even notice it, but it catches Tony’s attention right away, and he hates himself for it, hates that he has the memory of Peter’s face etched into his brain.

Peter’s men don’t even get a chance to say anything, because the moment Peter’s eyes land on Tony’s face, his lip curls up and he barks, “Out!”

They fumble for a moment, like they’re not sure whether they should be dragging Tony out of the room too, but when Peter’s scowl grows, they scuttle out with their tails tucked between their legs. Tony sneers at their backs.

Peter strides forward and Tony clenches his jaw in preparation for what he knows is coming.

The moment the door slams shut, Peter flies into action. He grabs the front of Tony’s shirt and shoves him against the wall.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Tony snarls, grabbing Peter’s wrists to rip them off of him.

“Then don’t fucking talk,” Peter spits back.

Tony growls and shoves him back, but Peter just pushes right up against him again, getting in his space. He can feel his warm breath on his face as he snarls, “You think I wanna hear your fucking voice after you left like that? Tell me why I shouldn’t just punch your lights out right now.”

And ouch, that kind of hurts. Tony shoves him off, jeering, “Well, you wouldn’t want to break my nose, sweetheart, we both know how much you love my pretty face.”

“Yeah, enough to want to spit on it, maybe.”

“You sure you don’t want me to be doing that to you? Wouldn’t get off on it, wouldn’t blow a load the moment I touch you? Happened way too much in the past, didn’t it? Don’t wanna relive those memories, honey? And this scar—” Tony reaches out, not even flinching when Peter tries to slap him away “—what happened here, huh? Fell off the swingset when Daddy wasn’t here to watch you?”

Peter pulls a face of disgust at his words, and Tony almost barks out a laugh, which would’ve incensed him more. It almost makes him wish he had; he knows how much Peter hates when he calls himself daddy. Almost as much as he hates being called kid.

Tony presses his thumb onto the scar when he gets no response, and Peter smacks his hand down to snap, “Just the result of the last guy who walked out on us. He came out a lot worse than me; should’ve done the same to you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tony lifts his eyebrow tauntingly. “Then why didn’t you, huh? Did I wear you out too much, princess? Didn’t have it in you for round two? Should’ve known; pretty little thing like you wouldn’t have been able to handle it anyway—”

Tony falls back with a grunt when Peter tackles him, hands flying up to wrench him off. Except now he feels lips roughly mouthing at his neck. And then Peter snarls, “Get yourself out of these fucking clothes, I fucking hate you, always making shit harder.”

“Then ask nicely, kid,” Tony bites back. Peter’s head jerks at the pet name, nostrils flaring, and Tony triumphantly shoves him off enough to yank off his own shirt. He stumbles with how hard he pulls, and then there are hands that are tugging too, helping him out of it, and he grunts, “No fuckin’ patience at all, should’ve known you’d be begging to gag on my dick before you even—”

“Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up.” Peter throws the shirt behind himself before throwing himself at Tony again.

His nails bite harshly into Tony’s skin, making him hiss between clenched teeth. “Put those damn claws away, Christ.” He shoves Peter back again and they stumble together against the wall, then fumble for another moment as Peter wrestles out of his own shirt.

The moment the shirt drops to the floor, discarded like a feather floating to the ground, Tony grabs Peter’s shoulders and manhandles him over to his desk. He manages to get him bent over it despite the kicking and thrashing that Peter puts up, but Tony knows Peter, knows that he isn’t fighting as hard as he can, knows that he wants Tony to wrestle with him. There’s also no denying the fact that despite the years that have passed and hardened them both, Tony’s still larger and stronger than Peter, and Peter loves it. Tony can see it in his eyes; he’s practically feral every time he rests his eyes on Tony.

“Remember the last time we did this?” Tony laughs roughly, pressing flush against him as he bends over, caging him in with his arms. Peter snarls and jerks his head back, but Tony easily avoids it. He pinches the back of his neck harshly in reprimand and Peter chokes, straining against him. Tony lets him gasp and heave for a moment before licking a hot, wet stripe from his neck to his ear. “You think you can scream as loudly as you did then for me right now, sweetheart?”

“Over my dead body,” Peter gasps.

“Not the biggest turn-on.” In a lightning-fast movement, Tony rips Peter’s pants off. The button goes flying and Peter hisses.

“That was expensive, you asshole!”

Tony opens his mouth to snap back, but then his breath catches in his throat at the sight of the red lace. Peter’s face has gone a shade that’s equally as bright and he snarls in Tony’s grasp.

“Ohhh,” Tony says, beginning to laugh, and it sounds mean, which only serves to aggravate Peter even more. “This is why you were fighting so hard, huh? Little prissy Parker, wearing fuckin’ panties like you have someone to strut for?”

“Shut. Up,” Peter grits out.

Tony grins, feeling a sadistic little ball of heat furling in his gut, and he leans in to breathe, “Make me,” before cracking a hand down on his ass. The sound is loud, ringing throughout the whole room, and Peter keens. He’s pushing back against Tony like he can’t help himself now, spine curving nicely in a way that makes Tony want to kiss every inch of his body.

Tony slots his hips against his ass, grinding down and letting out a low growl in his throat. “That’s right. That’s fuckin’ right. Can’t make me, can you? Bet’chu wanted this so badly, can never help yourself, can you? C’mon, little mockingbird, admit it—it doesn’t feel as good when you’re on your own, I get it, I—”

He does get it. He’s forgotten how good they are together, and years apart only riles him up further, gets him wanting more, more, more. He knows Peter feels the same, and now, he wants to hear him say it.

“Tell me you want this,” he growls, and Peter jerks in his grasp. “Tell me,” he repeats, cracking a hand down on his ass, “you want this.”

“Fuck off,” Peter grits, but Tony can hear it, the desperation and arousal in his voice.

“Tell me you want it, let me fucking hear it.” He brings his hand down in earnest, making Peter gasp. His ass turns a dusty pink as he jerks and whines in his grip. Tony can see his cock growing harder by the minute, encased by lace. “C’mon, lemme hear it, what’s the matter, kid? Cat got your tongue? No point in hiding, you know, we know you want it, probably been waiting for this moment for years now. Bet you put fuckin’ panties on every day hoping I’d see them.”

He punctuates his words with smacks, hand cracking loudly and ringing through the room, and Tony bites out, “C’mon, sweetheart, you being shy ‘cause you don’t want me to fuck you? Or are you still thinking about that time I nearly let you fuck me? That was a fucking mistake, wasn’t it? You got a hungry fuckin’ hole, you think your dick would’ve lasted more than a minute in my—”

“I want it!” Peter finally gasps, tears in his eyes. “I want it, I want it, I want you to fuck me, I want your hands on me, I want you to fucking take me, take me, fuck me—”

“Fuck!” Tony sees red. He fumbles with the zipper of his pants, yanking it down as fast as he can.

“Jerk,” Peter pants. “You’re a fucking asshole, bastard, selfish piece of shit, cock-sucking fed—mmph!” He chokes when Tony slaps a hand over his mouth.

“The mouth on you, kid, Christ!” Tony pulls back, then tears off his panties with his hands. Peter jerks from his position, rearing up again, but Tony puts a stop to whatever he’s about to do by shoving him back down with a grip on his neck. He roughly makes Peter turn his head, then mocks, “If you can’t learn to say nice things, then you shouldn’t say anything at all.”

Peter doesn’t fight him—as much as he expected him to, at least—when he balls the panties up in his hand and stuffs them into his mouth. Tony laughs when Peter’s face flushes, and he taunts, “Can’t even spit and snarl like you want to anymore, can you?” Peter jerks in his grasp again, and Tony bites his shoulder in reprimand. “‘s okay,” he says against his skin, grinning, “I gotcha.”

He brings his hand down on his ass again, admiring how pink it turns, and then starts roughly opening the drawers of his desk. His other hand is gripping Peter’s wrists behind his back, pinning him down. Peter’s breathing is raw and heavy in his throat even with the garment in his mouth, but there’s no denying how hard his dick is, and nothing delights Tony more than that.

“Lube,” he mutters impatiently under his breath, digging through the drawers. “Don’t tell me you don’t have fucking lube.”

Peter makes an indignant noise that Tony disregards.

When he finds it tucked under a stack of envelopes, he rips the small packet open. He presses his lubed fingers to Peter’s hole, and Peter jerks, then pushes back against him.

“Fuckin’ hungry for it, aren’t you?” Tony mutters as he works a finger in. “You know what hasn’t changed? How tight your fucking hole is.”

Peter moans behind the panties in his mouth, thighs shaking as Tony works him open. He’s not rough, but he’s not gentle either—just the way Peter likes it.

Tony’s pumping three fingers in and out of his hole by the time Peter makes a muffled noise. It sounds suspiciously like, “Hurry up,” but he can’t know for sure, and he doesn’t care to know either—Peter would kill him if he stopped to ask. So he just pinches Peter’s cheek, making him groan, before straightening.

He spits in his hand and brings it down to his cock, pumping it a few times. Peter twists to look at him, eyes blown and heavy, and Tony smirks. “Cock-drunk little thing,” he drawls, seeing the spark that ignites in Peter’s eyes at his words.

Tony squeezes Peter’s hip as he presses the head of his cock to his hole. It slips in easily, rim fluttering around him, and Tony hisses out a small, “Shit,” before pushing in slowly.

Peter gives a muffled moan, just taking it, and Tony pants, “Good boy,” before he lets his hips roll.

It’s slow at first, but then they pick up the pace once Peter starts making little noises in his throat, even pushing back to meet him halfway. It’s heaven to Tony, to feel Peter all around him like this, even more so when he gets to grip his hips and mark him up.

“You know,” Tony pants after a while, fingers digging into Peter’s skin hard enough to bruise, “it’s almost too boring with you so quiet. Maybe I should just—”  He reaches out, and takes the panties from his mouth.

Peter’s moans and gasps fill up the room immediately, and Tony gives him a sloppy grin in return for the glare he gets. “There we go. But I don’t want to just carry this, so let’s…” He stuffs the panties into Peter’s hand, then guides them down to his dick. “I want you to wrap your filthy panties around your filthy cock and make a fucking mess of them.”

There’s no hiding how turned on Peter is by that; his eyelashes flutter and his lips part in a silent moan. Tony snaps his hips up, and Peter moans, jumping into action. “I fucking hate you,” he pants, even as he follows Tony’s order.

Tony laughs and gives one of his cheeks another spank. “I know,” he grins, then lets his hips pick up the pace. He digs his nails into one cheek, and Peter moans so loudly that he’s pretty sure the entire fucking room shakes. “Sing any louder than that, ‘n you’re gonna have people comin’ in to see you fuckin’ impaled on my dick, crying like a kid who just found his lost stuffie,” Tony taunts in his ear.

Peter gives a snarl, but there’s no real fight in his body; he just wants Tony and they both know it.

Tony closes his eyes, head lolling back and lips parting as he works his hips fast until he’s pounding Peter’s ass hard enough to jostle his whole body. Peter mewls, fumbling as he jerks himself off, still gripping his panties in a vice-grip, and the mere sight of him nearly tips Tony over the edge.

“So— fucking— filthy—” he gasps, bending over to press as flush as he can against Peter, skin on skin, damp with sweat. He mouths at his neck and shoulders, trying to take every inch of Peter that he can.

“P-Plea— O-Oh, god, fuck, fuck—” Peter whimpers, and the sound goes straight to Tony’s cock.

Tony hisses, “Fuck, ‘m gonna—” before he interrupts himself with a loud groan that rips from his throat, raw and heavy. He lets his hips slow as he rides through the wave of ecstasy that crashes over him, only pulling out once he gets too sensitive.

Peter’s a mewling, sweaty mess over his desk, fingers scrabbling to grip something, anything. Tony slides a hand through his damp hair to pull his head back and places a hand over Peter’s, which is still working feebly over his own cock, and he says roughly, “Lemme help, kid, can’t even do it yourself, can you? Too dumb to even think, shouldn’t have expected so much from you.”

Peter keens at the words, and Tony’s pretty sure he’s drooling on his desk. Tony lets his strokes quicken, the lacy fabric of the panties sliding wetly over the head of his dick, and Peter lets out a breathy moan. “I— I— P-Please—”

“No one’s stopping you, baby, c’mon, lemme see it.” Tony leans in and licks a wet, broad stripe between his cheeks, tasting himself mingled with the taste of Peter, and then Peter’s coming with a loud wail.

He shoots strings of white over their hands and his panties, now completely ruined and sloppy, and he gives up—gives in—entirely to let Tony jack him off through it, coaxing whines and whimpers out of him.

“F-Fuck,” he gasps after a few moments, squirming to get free, and Tony cracks a hand down, keeping him there until he’s begging incoherently, blathering for Tony to fuckstoppleasekeepgoing oh god—

Tony falls back onto the floor, completely exhausted as the weight of what they just did slaps him in the face, and Peter follows suit, collapsing on top of him.

They’re quiet for a few minutes, the sound of their breaths coming in rough gasps. Erratic exhales fill up the space between them, and Tony closes his eyes as Peter turns his head the slightest bit. He starts kissing his way up Tony’s body, from his knee to his hip to his chest and his neck.

When it slows to a stop, Tony lets his head fall to the side and is shocked to find Peter’s eyes damp and glossy. “Baby,” he whispers, feeling himself go cold. He’s only ever seen Peter cry once before. “What’s wrong?”

Peter’s eyes fall shut and he shakes his head. The silence stretches out longer and Tony’s fully convinced that he’s lost his voice when Peter finally speaks. “Stay,” he croaks. He reaches out and finds Tony’s hand, then grips it tightly. “Don’t leave me.”

Not again, are the unspoken words, and Tony knows it.

Tony looks down at him to meet his shiny brown eyes, full of longing and sadness and hatred and anger and happiness and resignation. He reaches out, placing a hand on Peter’s cheek, and Peter shudders and presses into the touch.

“Baby,” he breathes. His mind feels like it’s gone blank, save for the thought of Fury, and Toomes, and S.H.I.E.L.D. He’s an agent. He’s not part of… this, anymore. He can’t be.

A tear trails down Peter’s cheek, dripping onto the crook of his finger, and Peter turns his head to smudge it. But before he can, Tony pulls back, then grips his face with both hands to pull him into a kiss. It’s a clumsy one, full of wet gasps and pained noises, before Peter kisses back, pressing closer and closer until he’s toppled over Tony.

Tony keeps his eyes closed, even when Peter pulls back, lips ghosting over his. Peter falls onto his chest, mouthing desperately at his neck, fingers lacing through his own to squeeze tightly. Tony can feel his wet cheeks pressing against his jaw.

Peter finally pulls away, and Tony opens his eyes. “Stay,” Peter whispers again, and Tony swallows over the lump in his throat. He looks down at his hand, uncurling his fingers, and sees a familiar golden ring resting in his palm. His breath catches in his throat, and he squeezes his hand into a fist tightly, feeling the gold warm up at his touch.

And then he knows he’s made his decision—or maybe there was only ever one right answer.

“Okay,” he says, and Peter falls back onto him, a silent sob wracking his body.

Tony wraps his arms around him, holding him tightly, never wanting to let go—and he doesn’t.

The feeling of holding so Peter closely is accompanied by the decision that he’s going to grow a pair of fucking wings, if only to take both him and Peter elsewhere, away from any place that isn’t just for them.

He should have known he would end up back here. He was always going to end up back home.

-- -- --

“You passed with flying colours, Stark.” Fury doesn’t even look up as he addresses him. He’s too busy making his coffee. Tony thinks he goes out of his way to never look anyone in the eye. “Makes me wonder where you learned all these skills. It’s not every day we get an applicant like you.”

Tony doesn’t say anything. Just lifts his chin.

Fury’s eye flicks up then. It’s just the slightest bit unnerving. It feels like he can see right through him, see everything that he’s been through, see where he’s come from, see the dirt and blood that remains underneath his fingernails no matter how much he scrubs them under the faucet. He wonders if the bitter smell of leather is still stuck to him, coiling through his hair to settle down like a snake in a nest. He wonders if it’ll ever leave him, wonders how many baths and showers it’ll take for him to rub himself raw, clean.

“It’s not an easy task to commit to S.H.I.E.L.D.” Fury takes a sip of his coffee and saunters closer. Tony doesn’t move. “You leave everything behind and give it all to us. S.H.I.E.L.D. can give you what you want, but in return, we demand loyalty.” He’s standing right in front of Tony now. They stay like that for a few moments, before Fury asks softly, “Are you a loyal man, Stark?”

Tony lifts his chin. “Yes.” His voice doesn’t shake, and he holds Fury’s gaze. His fingers curl into fists, and he waits with bated breath.

Finally, Fury holds a hand out, and says, “Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D, agent.”

Tony takes it, grips it tightly, and gives a jerky nod to seal his fate. “Thank you, sir.”

He’s home, and he’s never going back.

Tag list: @sinditia @darker-soft-starker @starkeristheendgame @thegreenmetblue @momodashii @peterrparrkerr @tnpt @blazingparker @carelessannie

[1kook]

netflix & chill

summary If you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality. warnings grinding, 2 seconds of sub kook, oral (f), cum eating, vanilla but [ passionate ], unprotected sex, dirty talk tags use of the oldest trick in the book (“your hands are sooo big”), shy oblivious AND gentleman jk? pick a struggle, brief ment of app developer kook, evil and conniving oc wc 10.2k !! wow!!

will I ever write a serious jk fic? NO. this entire thing was based off this pic of jungkook which i’ve said before that i would print out in sepia filter and crumple and stuff in a drawer n then tell my kids 35 years from now was a long lost lover i met on a cruise to the bahamas and never saw again ty to mia more @daechwlta​ for being there during my brief crisis over this fic 🥺

When Namjoon had first not so subtly mentioned the idea of setting you up on a date, it was with a faux air of disinterest that you had masterfully pried the details out of him. Namjoon has a friend, he said, a friend who was kinda sorta attached to his hip. And while Namjoon loved the kid, he also thought this friend could use some social interaction outside of Namjoon.

Now you and Namjoon weren’t exactly the most conventional of friends for him to be proposing blind dates to you at whim. He was your senior at school, your mentor in your scholarship program, an educated man studying for his masters. So when he’d first uttered the words you were immediately on the fence. Sure, the two of you knew each other well and probably got along better than most mentor-mentee pairings among your year, but you doubt Namjoon knew enough of your tastes to offer you up for a blind date.

According to Namjoon, his friend was a kid in the same year as you, making him not so much as a kid as he was your classmate. You brushed it off at first, spewing some bullshit excuse that you’d rather focus on your studies, and how dating was a distraction to your education, as if you hadn’t spent the weekend prior binge watching some Spanish novella while you dutifully ignored your essay.

The second time Namjoon mentions it you agree on the spot. Life on campus could only be interesting for so long, so you might as well make the best of it and go on as many stupid dates as possible.

Namjoon is over the moon.

He tells you he’ll pass your phone number on over to that friend of his—“Jeon Jungkook”—and promises you you won’t regret this because his friend was amazing, really. And for Namjoon to sing his praises for just any underclassmen was unheard of. In fact, besides you, you don’t think Namjoon knows many other students younger than him, and if he did, you hardly doubt he would regard them so highly.

So he gives his friend your number, and so ends your weekly meeting with your mentor. You only realize on the walk back to your dorm that you forgot to ask him about some club at school, the whole goal of this week’s meeting, but by then you don’t really care, the whole conversation fading into the background.

In fact, you forget about the whole ordeal until Friday night rolls around and you’re once again, binge watching another novella on your laptop, when your phone suddenly vibrates.

You were by no means a loser at school, a friendless nobody, but you were also not the outgoing, school-spirited student on the front page of your school’s website, and thus had nearly every app that could produce a notification on your phone muted, every text thread silenced. The only notifications and messages you allowed were from your email and from your roommate, and considering the fact Doyeon was face down in a puddle of her own mid-semester tears right across from you, it was probably your email.

Much to your surprises, it isn’t that “Monday’s Class is CANCELLED” email you were hoping for, but instead some unknown number in a text notification. You roll your eyes, click it open thinking it’s a reminder from some store or from some guy claiming to be from your bank, only to pause at the words written inside the little grey bubble.

hey its jungkook!!! joon gave me your number to I guess ask you on a date soo are you free tmrw night??

The excessive punctuation reminds you a little bit of your kid sister back home and the dorky emails she’ll send you from time to time. It’s with that memory and a smile on your face, that you’re suddenly reminded of what exactly this message is saying. “Oh shit,” you mumble, moving to sit up and reread the text. Doyeon complaining loudly in the background has you reading it twice more before you understand it, and by then there’s a fluttery feeling in your chest.

You were by no means easily swayed by people, but this guy had received praise from Kim Namjoon of all people, so he definitely had some prestige to his name. He doesn’t seem overbearing from this one text he’d sent, but he also didn’t seem completely disinterested.  

You try to match his nonchalant energy, letting him know you were in fact free and down to meet him, just to let you know more details.

You won’t lie, there’s a giddy feeling bubbling within you at the prospect of getting all dolled up, hitting the town, pawning a free meal off some unsuspecting college soul, and maybe even hitting it off. It’s been a while since you’ve dated, sue you.

Jeon Jungkook’s response crushes those dreams as well as hurdles you straight into a nightmare.

cool!! was thinking i could cook for us at my place, drink a little wine, maybe Netflix and chill a little bit??

You are blown away by the absolute gall of this man, to butter you up by painting a pretty picture only to reduce you to a mere booty call. The fact he had felt confident enough to say all that within the same sentence blows your mind.

Did this Jeon Jungkook, who you had no idea of what he looked like, who had no idea of what you looked like, seriously just invite you over for some quote unquote Netflix and chill?

Who, in the ever living hell, was this guy who so sleazily invited women over to fuck with no qualms about who they were?

You’re offended that Namjoon would set you up like this, pawn you off to such a greasy friend. But then again, you guess not everyone knows their friends thoroughly, because this Jeon Jungkook flirtatiously inviting your over for some sex sounds nothing like the golden boy Kim Namjoon had raved about earlier this week. You click your phone off, tapping the device against your lips as you ponder how to best rip this jerk to shreds via text.

It’s amidst Doyeon cursing out her statistics teacher that an idea hits you.

Tomorrow was Saturday night, and as far as you knew, you really didn’t have anything else going on for you anyway. You’d take Jeon Jungkook’s offer, let him cook you a free meal and drink some of his wine. He mentioned having his own place, and vaguely you remember Namjoon saying he lived alone, hence his introverted tendencies, so you could slip in and out without doing that walk of shame through a boy’s dorm hall.

Not that there would be anything to feel shameful about. In fact, if you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality.

Ha! That would certainly teach the asshole not to use his poor, unsuspecting friends to reel in nice girls like you into one night stands.

You could practically feel the devil horns begging to poke out of your skull, the forked tail wiggling behind you, as you click your phone back on and text Jeon Jungkook a great!! what’s your address :)

——

Saturday morning and afternoon are as boring as they usually are. You do a little homework, and spend thirty minutes filling Doyeon in on your master plan, which she eats up and even gives you some pointers—“and then you can be like, ‘you sick freak, as if I’d let you near this 5-star, Michelin reviewed, Gordon Ramsey approved coochie’ and throw the whole plate at his head!”—before getting ready for your little date at Jeon Jungkook’s.

You try hard to look good, harder than you would have if he hadn’t offended you by reducing you to a booty call, and Doyeon helps. She does your eyebrows all nice and natural, dusts the thinnest shin of liquid highlighter across the high points of your face, the whole shebang until you’re looking like a sexy, glowing goddess. You shimmy into a pretty dress, nothing too fancy nor too casual, and even pull on those strappy sandals you’d bought on sale last winter before blowing a kiss to Doyeon and meeting your Uber downstairs.

You don’t quite remember what the reason behind Jeon Jungkook living in such a swanky neighborhood a few minutes from campus was, if it was from a job you vaguely recall Namjoon mentioning, or if it was just purely hereditary, but his place is nice. It’s a connected townhouse, something you’d expect a newly wed couple to live in and not some douchebag third year.

Worse comes to worse, you get banned from this rich neighborhood after humiliating one of its residents in his own home, not that you’d ever make it big enough to live here anyway.

You’d texted Namjoon sometime that morning to let him know you were meeting his friend, an ominous text with an even more ominous smiley face attached to it. But it seems Namjoon is easily blinded by underclassmen he trusts, if Jeon Jungkook’s assholish feats and your own suspicious behavior is anything to go by, because he texts you back a polite have fun! he’s a little shy, so it might take a while for the ball to start rolling hahahaha.

Shy my ass, you think closing the door of your Uber behind you. You double check the address that had been texted to you, walking up to the neat townhouse and knocking against the polished door.

It’s a little chilly, and you hope finding an Uber is easier later tonight when you make your grand escape. It’s between these thoughts that the door swings open, revealing the most handsome man you’ve ever met.

He’s attractive, disgustingly so, with dark hair and light brown tips to contrast, tickling his cheekbones. His dark eyes are round and imploring as they meet yours, gaze almost innocent and doe like as he takes you in. He’s got this soft, blue turtleneck on, and it looks like it should be a seasonal sweater reserved for the holidays but he pulls it off nicely on this premature spring night. His pretty pink lips move, and it takes you a second to realize he’s talking.

“___?” He says, and his voice is deep, yet soft in its own unique way. You nod, like a stupid bobble head, because your throat constricted the moment this beautiful angel opened the door. “It’s cold outside, come in!” He urges you, out stretching his palm to make sure you don’t trip over the slight step up the door as he brings you into his home.

“Hi,” he exhales when you’re finally inside, standing a little too close to you in his small entryway.

“Hi,” you finally choke out, a little dazed by how handsome he is, and the sudden realization that you’re supposed to throw your glass of wine at him tonight because he’s a douchebag dawns on you. You blink yourself out of your stupor, taking a step back and gesturing towards your sandal clad feet.

“Oh!” Jeon Jungkook exclaims at the sudden realization. “I forgot to set out a pair of slippers for you,” he sheepishly admits, before he excuses himself to go get some. There’s a tiny ottoman pushed against the wall, beneath a long mirror, that you take a seat on it, carefully unstrapping your sandals.

All the while, you’re deep in thought.

It makes sense that someone like Jeon Jungkook was so forward in inviting you over for sex during your first interaction. Realistically speaking, the guy had it all. He lived alone in a swanky townhouse in a wealthy neighborhood (you finally remember Namjoon saying he did some app developing for major companies—yeah, still in college but already making it big because he was that good), and looked like the blueprint for the perfect man, someone who’d impress your parents. On top of that, the man was was a 21st century Adonis. You hadn’t missed the flash of ink on his knuckles, or the way his jeans had hugged his legs.

He’s making his way back now, inspecting the slippers in his hands, and you don’t miss the way the jeans are pulled taut around his thighs in particular.

Yeah, he definitely knew his way around a woman’s body, there was no way he couldn’t have.

You slip your feet into the slippers he places before you, wiggling your toes around, before glancing back at Jungkook. He smiles warmly, a little beauty mark beneath his lip making itself known. He takes your hand, pulls you up onto your feet, and begins guiding you down the hall and to what you assume is the kitchen.

“I didn’t know what you liked, and I figured asking you three hours before you came over would be too awkward,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He glances at you again, and upon seeing your inquisitive stare, quickly turns away with flushed cheeks.

Oh this man knew the game, and he knew it well.

Jeon Jungkook still thinks he can play that cute campus boy being set up by his senior card now, after he’d shown you his true colors last night via text. But he has a big storm coming. As much as you could admit he was good to look at, you would not be fooled by some pretty face and tasty food. No, you came here with one goal and one goal only, and that was to give Jeon Jungkook a piece of his own two-faced medicine before running off to tattle to Namjoon.

You reach the kitchen and the heavenly smell of Alfredo sauce swarms your nostrils. “I… I’m still new to cooking, so I hope you don’t mind some Alfredo pasta,” he admits, shy smile adorning his features as he avoids your gaze once again to toy with the dish towel by the sink.

You creep closer to the counter, where two meticulously presented ceramic plates sit beside a wine bottle, and the glands in your mouth suddenly go into overdrive in their rush to make you salivate, and you choke out an overly eager, “it looks amazing!” before you know it.

Okay, you came here with two goals.

——

Jungkook carries the two bowls in his big hands to the dining room beside the kitchen, and you follow behind with the bottle of wine and two glasses as you set the table together. The utensils are already there, but Jungkook runs back into the kitchen anyway to return with some fancy cloth napkins for the two of you.

Just as you're tugging a chair out to sit, Jungkook beats you to it. “Ah, let me,” he smiles, and your heart thunders nervously in your chest as you return the expression, brushing your hands beneath you before sitting down and letting him push you in. Jungkook takes his own seat in front of you, and before you can dig in he calls out to seemingly nobody, “Alexa, dim the dining room lights.”

The overhead lights dim, and with their overbearing glow gone, you can finally appreciate the battery powered candles snuggled neatly into a little bowl on the table between you two. You ooh appreciatively, and Jungkook looks proud of himself.

Then, he says, “Alexa, play…Date Night Playlist.”

You blink, and a soft piano tune begins filtering through a speaker he’s hidden somewhere in the room. Even with the fake candles being your main source of light, the flush on Jungkook’s cheeks is evident as he gestures towards you to eat.

You won’t lie. Jeon Jungkook was extremely endearing.

This much becomes evident the further you get into the meal. As small talk devolves into full fledged conversations and story telling, his shy demeanor slipping away but still sticking to the edges of his personality, you begin to have a more difficult time connecting this Jungkook to the one who had less than 24 hours ago asked you to come over and “Netflix and chill” with him.

But the more you speak, the more distant that image begins to feel. For one, Jungkook does put on a fairly reserved aura for you, telling you about his job but refusing to brag about it even when you egg him on. He has no qualms gassing up his friends, Namjoon in particular, who Jungkook claims is his role model for some unknown reason, given the fact they are neither in the same major nor in any of the same clubs. They’re friends, point blank period, but Namjoon is very obviously a star in Jungkook’s eyes.

Additionally, he’s quite embarrassed to admit why Namjoon had been so set on getting Jungkook to date, but eventually tells you it’s because Jungkook’s last girlfriend had been during your freshman year—two whole years ago! It makes you wonder what he’d been doing since then, if he’d used the time to fully invest in his work or if he’d been mingling around, unbeknownst to his friends, which would explain the flirtatious offer that landed you here.

Still, a part of you refuses to believe last night’s Jungkook and tonight’s Jungkook were one in the same, and if they were, what had made this shy man so unabashedly invite you over for some sex. Was this act all a ploy? Or maybe, was he purposefully trying to ward you away by coming off as a gentleman now that he’d seen your face and wasn’t interested in you anymore?

Apparently it’s neither of the two, and you don’t realize this until you finish your meal and make your way into his living room to finally get down to the long awaited Netflix and chilling. It’s only when you sit down on the couch, smack dab in the middle, because at this point, you’re not gonna throw your wine at Jeon Jungkook like you planned, he was too nice. And if this niceness was an act to get in your panties, you didn’t care at this point. He was hot, achingly so, and at least you’d get a good fuck out of it.

But as you said, apparently not. Because Jeon Jungkook sees you purposefully take up the entire middle of the couch, sultry eyes staring him down, and decides to sit flush against the armrest, somehow leaving a good foot between the two of you, despite the fact you’re sitting next to each other.

Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend the situation, before he’s asking you what you want to watch. “Um,” you say, pointedly staring at him and not the screen. “Tr-Transformers?”

The way Jungkook’s eyes light up is insane, already round eyes nearly popping out of their sockets as he eagerly rushes to select it from whatever streaming service he has, probably not even Netflix, all the while chattering on about how much he loves that series, and is so glad you do too.

The whole time, you’re struck by the oddness of his casual tone, the way he’s overly invested in the 20th Century Fox opening, and how he’s very carefully avoiding intruding in on your personal space.

The last point in particular has you wanting to pull your hair out, because you want Jeon Jungkook intruding in on your personal space. You want him pressed so tightly against you you can’t breathe, you can’t move, until you’re drowning in him as he finally lives up to his promise of some Netflix and chill, because you want him, and you want him so. very. bad.

“Oh, I forgot the popcorn!” Jungkook exclaims, and you jump at the sudden volume of his voice, because he’d been pretty silent as he avidly watched the first few minutes of the movie. “Sorry,” he chuckles, and his leg brushes against yours as he shuffles between you and the coffee table on his way out. You vaguely hear the popping of the popcorn in the kitchen, but you’re too distracted by your suddenly overwhelming thoughts.

Okay, one thing was for sure, and that was that Jeon Jungkook definitely had no fucking idea what the phrase Netflix and chill meant, because the way he’d zeroed in on the movie and the popcorn, and not you, was unheard of on such invitations. You deduce he probably heard it somewhere, and, now understanding the true nature of Jungkook’s sweet and shy personality, made no such perverted connection to the phrase.

Which meant he most definitely did not demean you to a mere booty call, like you’d deluded yourself into believing, someone he could hump and dump with no regrets, before calling Namjoon up to thank him. Which meant he’d had no ulterior motives in meeting you tonight, just planning to get to know you at the suggestion of his friend, and had—unbeknownst to him—successfully wooed you thus far.

Which was great! If you turned a blind eye to the evil, conniving plans you’d made without even meeting the guy, and the subsequent flood of self-inflicted disapproval when you realized Jeon Jungkook was a sweetheart who definitely did not deserve having a glass of wine thrown at his face after making you a home cooked meal and giving you the full Olive Garden experience, with his dimmed lights and candlelit dinner and piano music on the background.

Yeah. Perfectly fine.

The only problem now was that you had become so dangerously smitten with the man that you wanted to sleep with him. You wanted that Netflix and chill, needed it like it was the last slot in a daycare class and you were a soccer mom of five wanting to get at least one kid out of the house for the summer for the sake of her own sanity. You were desperate.

No, you scold yourself. This was fine, this was good, this was perfectly okay. If anything, this just further made you enamored with Jungkook, because it proved how gentlemanly he was by not trying to sleep with you on the first date.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, the devil on your shoulder crooned.

The microwave in the kitchen stops, and you hear the sound of cabinets opening as Jungkook pours the popcorn into a bowl. On screen, the main character is meeting a bunch of giant cars-turned-robots, you don’t fucking know.

But the devil was right.

Jungkook hadn’t offered to sleep with you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. Furthermore, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be seduced into wanting to, your evil brain suggested, and the hope that had slithered it’s way into your chest from the very moment Jungkook had opened the door, took that fact and ran with it.

“What’d I miss?” Jungkook says when he returns, popcorn bowl in hand.

“Oh, um, he was with the car,” you offer, trying to stop the nefarious smirk from slipping onto your features. Jungkook laughs, cute and airy as he shuffles past you.

He’s too absorbed in the screen, not looking as he sits down, closer than last time until his thigh brushes yours and he jerks back in embarrassment. “Oh, sorry,” he flounders, goes to move away but you act fast.

You grab onto his upper arm with both of yours like an octopus, keeping him flush to you as you gaze up at him with wide eyes. “No, it’s okay,” you rush to assure him, loosening your hold as he tentatively relaxes beside you. You glance down at the popcorn bowl in his hand, swiping a piece to pop between your lips. “It’s easier for us this way,” you say, and you’re pulling that straight out of your ass, because you hate popcorn and have literally zero desire for it and wouldn’t have reached for it anyway if you weren’t trying to convince him this was all for popcorn sharing purposes.

Jungkook’s eyes briefly flicker down to where you’re munching on that popcorn, your lips, before he’s quickly averting his gaze. “Ah, y-yeah,” he agrees, and though he tries to relax back into the couch, you can still feel the tension of his muscles as he settles beside you.

With his eyes no longer trained on you, you snuggle closer into his side resting your cheek against the soft material covering his shoulder, finally letting that devious smirk slip onto your face. You keep yourself close to Jungkook, loving the way his warmth permeates the thick sweater he’s wearing, even if he’s still overly into the movie. You know he’s seen it before, because he keeps telling you random tidbits like, “they use this in the next movie!” Or “he ends up becoming really important in the sixth movie,” and you want to listen to this endearing nerd’s commentary, you really do, but once your brain is stuck on horny, it is stuck on horny.

He doesn’t even eat a lot of popcorn, setting it down not ten minutes later onto the coffee table. You release him as he moves forward, but quickly latch onto him again when he sits back down.

Much to your surprise, Jungkook is way more relaxed then, shrugging you off to rest his hand on the couch behind you, and you inwardly squeal at the prospect of getting to cuddle up to his body, and not just his arm. You cuddle in close to him, leaving your slippers on the ground as you tuck your legs up onto the couch cushions.

Jungkook is so warm and firm, and you know it’s your horny brain speaking, but you swear you feel a tight set of abs underneath the palm you rest on his stomach, and you give an experimental brush over the area. His heart picks up, you hear it by where your head is leaning against his chest, and you tilt your head up to give him a curious glance. His cheeks are red, and he doesn’t look at you even though you know he sees you, so you decide to kick things up a notch.

You sigh loudly, peeling yourself away from him to properly level him with a pout. “Jungkook, aren’t you hot in this?” You ask, pinching the wooly material between two fingers and pulling it from his skin. Jungkook finally looks away from the screen, nibbling his lower lip as he takes in your quizzical expression.

“Um, only a little… but it’s fine!” He rushes to say, and you recall from your conversations over dinner that Jungkook doesn’t much like people fussing over him, so you quickly change gears.

You press a hand against your cheek, the same one that had been resting against his shoulder earlier. “Oh, well… it’s really itchy,” you announce, and his eyes widen, one hand absentmindedly reaching to clutch the material at his chest. “It’s making me really itchy,” you emphasize, and part of you feels bad for taking advantage of his caring nature, but this is all for the greater good, you convince yourself. “Do you mind taking it off?”

“I, uh, yeah,” he agrees, reaching for the hem of his sweater before carefully peeling it off. When he pulls it over his head, you can’t help the triumphant grin that overtakes your face, though you quickly mask it when he finally frees himself from the material. “Better?” He says once he’s clad in only a plain black shirt.

“Mm, much,” you sigh, and nearly soak your panties then and there when a tattooed sleeve comes into view. “Woah!” You exclaim, snatching his wrists up to examine his skin. “What’s this?” You marvel, tracing every inch of delicious skin with your predatory gaze. Jungkook huffs out a laugh, and you glance up to watch as he rubs the back of his neck in that same embarrassed way he’d done multiple times throughout your night together.

“My tattoos,” he says, and then seems to realize the simplicity of his statement and rushes to add to it, “I hope you don’t mind?”

You hum, shifting onto your knees to face him as you continue tracing over a huge tiger lily by his forearm. “Why would I? It’s your body,” you say, and watch the nervous glance melt off his face as he regards you with something new. Something akin to wonder as he lets you trace over more of his ink, nodding along to your words.

“Yeah… yeah!” He agrees, and you grin at his sudden zeal. He chuckles, physically relaxing beneath your touch, and it’s probably the most relaxed he’s been all night as you continue rubbing your hands over every tattoo on his skin, and then purposefully focusing on the ones near his bicep. “Sorry, ‘m just used to people pushing off their own opinions about them onto me,” he explains, and for a moment, the horniness that had been fueling you all night fades away, and you let your hands trail down, past his wrist, until you’re sandwiching his hand between yours.

“Fuck what anyone else thinks,” you tell him, eyes hard as you imagine anyone imposing their stupid thoughts on Jungkook, who was too good for this world. “If you think they’re cool, then they're the coolest thing in the world.”

He smiles at you, and you’ve seen this smile about a million times tonight—when you first came in, when you talked about yourself at dinner, when you mentioned this stupid movie—but it has something swelling in your chest. Something too intimate for a first date, so you quickly move to repress it.

Glancing down at his hand in yours, littered with smaller tattoos across his knuckles, your brain whirls into action. Bringing it up between the two of you, you turn his hand over to line your palms up. “Wow, your hands are so big,” you sigh, slowly reverting back to dirty thoughts as you twist yours and Jungkook’s hands this way and that. He snorts, bends the tips of his fingers over yours just to hear you ooooh again.

“Yeah, they’re pretty big,” he agrees, completely ignoring the film playing on the screen, which is a huge win in your eyes considering how deeply he’d been watching it earlier.

Finally, you see an opening and pounce.

“Well, that means something else is pretty big too,” you murmur, chancing a glance up at his face. His face is the perfect definition of composed, and you can tell when exactly he processes your words because those little pink lips part in surprise, red slowly filling the apples of his cheeks. You let go of his palm, letting it slide between your fingers until it falls limp beside him.

Jungkook watches you with wide eyes, as you raise yourself up onto your knees. “Jungkook?” You mumble, giving him no warning before you’re throwing a leg across his lap, knees pressed into the couch on either side of his thighs.

“Y-Yes?” He stutters, brown hair falling away from his face as he stares up at you. You flash him a sweet smile, and you can tell it relaxes him because his fists unclench beside him.

“You’re a really nice boy,” you sigh, and when you’ve scooted your knees a little closer to his ridiculously thin waist, you finally let yourself sit. You find yourself right before his crotch, which he desperately tries to hide as he shifts around, but can’t with you on top of him. You let your hands flutter to rest at his shoulders, and he gulps. “You’re so sweet and cute,” you add, relish in the flush that climbs up to his ears. “But I’m a little sad you invited me over to Netflix and chill, but won’t do just that,” you pout, a finger tangling itself in a soft strand at the back of his head.

“Huh?” He stutters, eyes nearly bulging out when you wiggle around again. “I-I’m sorry?” He huffs, and when you move too close to his crotch, where his jeans are slowly growing more and more strained, he panics and reaches a hand out to steady your waist.

You feign confusion, flashing him another pout as you duck closer until your noses bump against each other. “You know what it means, don’t you, Jungkook?” You inquire, eyes falling dangerously lidded as you swallow up every inch of his appearances.

He stutters, hands moving up and down as if he doesn’t know where to put them anymore. But you know exactly where Jungkook can put those hands, and you waste no time catching his wrists in your hands to guide him towards your hips. “No?” He breathes, fingers flexing against you, and you smile sweetly at him.

“It means,” you purr, shifting forward until you’re flush against where you need him most. You can barely contain the whimper that climbs out of your throat when you finally feel the rough material of his jeans against your panties. “It means you wanna fuck, Jungkook,” you exhale, tossing your head back as your body basks in the slight reprieve, the way Jungkook squirms beneath you aiding greatly in providing that sensation you craved.

“It’s nothing more than an excuse,” you huff, placing a hand on the back of his neck to steady yourself. At your touch, Jungkook jolts, thighs jumping beneath you and you stifle another groan when the zipper of his jeans prods against your core. “For you to fuck my brains out while some s-stupid movie plays in the background.”

You’re not sure when, but sometime during that last explanation your hands had fully delved into the thick tresses of Jungkook’s hair. You give an experimental tug, and poor Jungkook, so lost in all that you’re telling him, lolls his head back for you easily until the long expanse of his neck is available, soft creamy skin yours for the taking.

You pounce, kissing the skin gently at first, before sprinkling in a handful of nibbles. He’s sensitive, devastatingly so, as he gasps at a particular suck. You suction your lips on the spot below his ear, carefully biting down on the skin as he unravels beneath you. “Will you do it, Jungkookie?” You murmur against the shell of his ear,

He nods eagerly, and his fingers hurt where he’s pressed them deep into your waist, like he’s trying to brand you as his with his mere strength alone. “Y-Yes,” he exhales, hips jerking when you swipe your tongue over the pretty mark you’d left on his perfect skin.

You smother your smirk against his neck, grinding down on him once again. “Yes what?” You tease, and let his strong hands roll you against him afterwards.

“Yes, I-I’ll…” he stumbles, eyes dazed as he watches you through hooded lids. You raise a brow at him, shifting in his lap. It’s enough to kickstart him back up, and he’s biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. “I’ll fuck you, I’ll fuck you just like you want,” he rambles. He surprises you when he begins rutting up against you, so animalistic and uncontrolled, nothing like the sweet Jungkook that had indulged you over dinner. “I’ll make you come, p-promise,” he rasps.

You smirk down at him, hoping he doesn’t see the metaphorical horns sticking out of your head the further he falls into your trap. Before he can say anything else, you surge forward, slotting your mouths together for the first time that night.

It’s no surprise that Jungkook kisses just like he speaks, carefully like he’s afraid one hard press of his lips will ward you off. His lips are smooth, a fact you’d hyper-fixated on all night as he spoke, but before you can ponder on that any further, something hot and wet is prodding at your lower lip.

The gasp you barely manage to contain ends up escaping anyway when Jungkook’s hand comes up to cup the side of your face, tilting your head to the side as his tongue slithers into your mouth. You become obsessed with the way he touches you, every bit the gentlemen he’d been all night, fingers just barely pressing into your cheek like he doesn’t want to mess up your makeup. His other hand, snuggly wrapped around your waist, pulls you tighter against him until your chests are pressed together.

And that tongue. That tongue of his that leaves no room for argument, quickly shutting down any attempts of yours to overtake him. He’s graceful about it too, one nudge enough to convince you he’s got this, he’ll take care of you. You whimper, a sound Jungkook swallows before he’s biting down on your lower lip.

When he pulls away, his lips are red and glossy, and you wonder if yours are too. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he sighs, gazing at you like he can’t believe you’re there in front of him.

Before you can say anything else, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck to brush kisses over your skin. “Let me eat you out,” he begs, but his voice is so silky and smooth that it doesn’t sound so much as a plea as much as it does a suggestion. He licks a stripe up your neck, and you jump in his hold.

It’s at this moment where the sudden realization hits you, the feeling of having the reins yanked out of your hands. You so vividly controlled every aspect of Jungkook just a few moments ago, when you’d had your own mouth on his neck, and carefully coaxed him into some sex.

But it seems Jeon Jungkook isn’t as soft or as pliable as you had dubbed him to be, and if the way he’s begun subtly rolling your hips into his crotch is any sign, he certainly wasn’t the submissive type either. Which leaves you wondering, exactly what type of person was Jungkook in bed?

Well, you had all night to figure that out.

“Hey,” he whines suddenly, ripping you out of your thoughts. You glance down at him, registering the bored set of his eyes and the unimpressed quirk of his lips. “Pay attention to me.”

You blink, lips twitching. You can barely muffle the giggle that tears itself from your throat, leaning your forehead on his shoulder as your body shakes at his suddenly childish words. Jungkook chuckles too, as if suddenly realizing how out of place his own statement was. “Sorry,” he smiles, cheeks pleasantly rosy and you can’t even stop yourself from kissing him silly.

Jungkook, bless his heart, let’s you rain down a good three kisses on him before he’s pushing you down on the couch beside him. There’s still a slight gleam in his eyes, but the rest of his face schools itself into a hungry expression as he drinks in your body laid out before him. “Let me eat you out?” He asks again, voice but a soft whisper.

You nod, heart beating loudly in your chest as he shuffles down until he can press a kiss to the tops of your thighs. He hasn’t even done anything that intense yet, but you already feel the muscles in your leg ready to spasm just from his proximity.

He’s mouthing at your skin, nudging your legs apart, and you, usually so confident in your sexuality, can’t find the courage to look at him as he so lovingly carries out his ministrations.

As if sensing your sudden bout of shyness (you! shy! Doyeon was gonna tease you about this for the rest of your life once you recapped this for her), he places a soft kiss just below where the hem of your dress begins, before pulling back and uttering, “this okay?”

You hum in response, face warm from just imagining how good he must look down there, peppering your skin with kisses. Your heart nearly rips itself out of your chest when a strong set of fingers wraps around your wrist suddenly, sliding over and around your hand until he’s tangled them with yours.

At this, you nearly break your neck trying to look at him, only to be met with an amused smile. Jungkook gives your hand a squeeze, and you barely get to appreciate the schoolgirl flood of emotions in your chest, when suddenly his free hand comes out of left field, cupping the back of your knee to push your legs further apart, before gliding across the expanse of your thigh to push your dress up.

If Jungkook holding your hand was enough to make your heart skip a beat, Jungkook pressing a chaste kiss to your panty-clad mound was enough to send you into cardiac arrest. Your leg twitches at the sudden touch, a gasp catching in your throat at the delicate path he kisses over your panties, until he’s flicking his tongue over your clit. “Oh,” you moan, and against your better judgment, your free hand is tangling itself in his silky strands.

Jungkook smirks, what sounds like a tiny chuckle muffled as he continues mouthing along your sex, until your panties are soaked both from your arousal and his saliva. Your little thong stares him in the face, and he groans at the sight, glancing up at you with those wide eyes of his like you’re his entire world. “Can I?”

Jungkook gives your clit one final kiss, before he lets go of your hand, and you can’t help the whine that leaves you upon the lost contact. Jungkook eats it up, pressing a kiss turned smile against your knee as he tugs your underwear down. It coils up as it goes, until he’s pulling a tightly twisted maroon thong off your ankles, and tossing it off somewhere behind him.

If his mouth felt good through your panties, it feels even better without. You mewl when he brushes his lips over your clit, plush lips working your sensitive bundle of nerves, sly tongue occasionally creeping out to toy with you further. “Jungkook,” you cry out, back arching. He licks and slurps likes he’s a starved man, and you're the first meal he’s ever had. You want to sob from how good it feels, his tongue flicking over your bud like he just can’t get enough.

He pulls away to catch your gaze, doesn’t let it go as he runs a lone finger over your slit, coating the digit in your own arousal, before carefully plunging it into your warm, wet heat. “Is this good?” He rasps out, watching your facial expressions carefully as he wiggles his finger deeper into your core, his other hand wrapped around your thigh to keep you still. You moan, feeling like a boneless heap of organs beneath this insanely handsome man who can’t keep his hands off your quivering pussy.

His fingers don’t let up, slowly pulling out before plunging back in. The room fills with disgustingly wet sounds, but that fact drifts to the back of your head the faster his fingers go. Your eyes roll into your head, your body twitching with each press of his fingers.

“Is it good, pretty?” He repeats, and since you’re not looking at him anymore, the sudden lick against your clit has your back arching and your thighs quivering with surprise. “Tell me it’s good, ___,” Jungkook croons, and you nod in a hurry.

“It’s good!” You cry, moaning loudly when he slips another finger into you, scissoring the two inside of you. “It’s so good, Jungkook—y-you’re so good,” you moan, and nearly cry actual tears when he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing down against the most sensitive spot within you.

Jungkook doesn’t let up, continues licking and slurping against your sensitive bud, even when your orgasm hits and you’re begging him to stop. He doesn’t let you go until he feels the warmth coat his fingers, feels the wetness begging to seep out of your plugged pussy. He lets you go then, only to move closer to your hole and replace his fingers with his mouth. There, he carefully catches and collects the cum that trickles out, mouth warm against your trembling body.

Your body quivers with each long drag of his tongue over your sensitive cunt, and you’re about to ask him to stop, when he finally pulls away and pushes himself over you, arms caging you in as he stares down at your withered form. “Kiss,” you manage to gasp out, and Jungkook raises an eyebrow in question. “Kiss me,” you repeat, and then, thoughtfully, “please.”

Jungkook complies, leans down to connect your mouths in a sweet kiss. You’re blinded by the delicacy of it all, that you in no way see coming the sudden substance that slides down your throat from his own. You choke at the sudden intrusion, belatedly realizing it’s your cum he’s pushing down your throat, the cum he didn’t swallow.

“That’s it, pretty,” Jungkook croons, licking up the residual come that hadn’t made it into your mouth. “See how you taste for me. Isn’t it sweet?” He murmurs, pushing his tongue into your mouth as if he regretted not saving any for himself. It’s the first time you’ve had your own pleasure in your mouth, so you’re not exactly sure how to feel. What you do feel is the overwhelming surge of arousal at seeing Jungkook rave about it and lap it up inside your own mouth.

He kisses you for a few moments, mouth moving languidly along yours. One hand reaches down to rub soothingly at your inner thigh, like he’s coaxing the feeling back into your body after lulling you into one of the most heavenly orgasms of your entire life. You whimper when he bites down on your lower lip, like you’re still too sensitive to reciprocate, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. He lets you go, licks over where he’d bitten like an apology.

After a few minutes of just this, of feeling like the most cherished girl in the entire world, Jungkook finally pulls away and levels you with a dashing smile. “All good?” He asks, hands still trailing up your waist until they’re framing the swell of your breasts, where he gently circles your nipple.

You nod, dazedly staring up at him and it’s at this exact moment that you realize there’s something stiff poking at your hip. You glance down, and Jungkook glances down with you, until you’re both staring at the hard on he’s hiding beneath his jeans. Jungkook chuckles, low and dark by your ear as he experimentally presses it against you.

Before you can stop yourself, your hand is untangling itself from around his shoulders and slithering down his front. You cup his erection, his shaky exhale giving you the courage to toy with his belt buckle until it’s undone and you're battling with the button on his jeans instead. You put up a good fight, but in the end the angle is too tight for you to properly undo it, and Jungkook brushes your hands away with a soft kiss to your lips.

He pushes himself off you, and you’re immediately craving the warm press of his body against yours the second he’s gone. “Get that dress off for me, pretty girl,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head, rendering you completely speechless as you gawk at his body. Jungkook glances down at you as he goes to undo his pants, a shapely brow raising in your direction and a soft quirk of his lips gesturing for you to do as you’re told.

You spur into action, wiggling the dress up and over your breasts until you’re pulling it over your head and letting it drop beside you on the floor. You’re just in time to see Jungkook push his jeans down his hips, a classic black Calvin Klein underwear band glaring back at you.

The chance to marvel at Jungkook’s thin waist framed by that tight underwear is gone as quickly as it came, and you’re greeted with an even more mouthwatering sight when he pushes the elastic band down, and that big cock you had alluded to springs out of its confines. You groan, subconsciously rolling your hips into the air as you take in the sight of his cock, mushroom tip swollen and flushed. There’s a thick vein that runs along the underside of it, one you only see when Jungkook grasps his dick in his hand and tugs upward like this isn’t his true form, and he can get bigger.

“Ready?” He asks, biting down on his lip as he continues to stroke himself. You nod, wiggling closer to him until the backs of your thighs rest on top of his, knees knocking against his waist. He grants you one more of those kind smiles, before he’s leaning down to press a hand beside your head, the other lining himself up with your soaked entrance.

Running his cock over your folds one last time, collecting as much of your cum as he can, he brushes a kiss against your cheekbone before he’s pushing in. You moan, throwing your hands around his neck as he pierces through the initial ring of muscle surrounding your warm heat. “Holy shit,” you choke, mouth dropped open as you pant like a dog against his shoulder. “J-Jungkook,” you cry, legs tightening around his waist the closer his body presses against yours.

Once he’s at the hilt, pelvis flush against you, you can’t help the series of whines and mewls that escape your lips from being so comfortably filled to the brim.

To your surprise, Jungkook is the first to speak. “Fuck,” he groans, breath hot against your ear. He sounds fucked out, once silky voice raspy with need as he grinds his hips against you tentatively. “This is what you wanted, isn't it?” He huffs, both hands coming down to wrap around your waist, your back arching under the wonderful hands that find themselves squeezing every inch of your back in an effort to pull you closer.

His mouth brushes against yours from this new position, and Jungkook puckers his lips, tongue coming out to lick at your bottom lip. You nearly cry when he finally pulls his hips away, relieves his cock from your tight heat before surging back in. “Wanted this from the moment you walked in, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Jungkook grunts, repeats the same motion until he’s picked up a steady pace of pushing and pulling, each roll of his hips sending a shock of ecstasy crawling up your spine.

You nod, eyes screwed shut as pleasure warms every inch of your body. It’s even worse to not see, because every sound and every touch is magnified tenfold, until you’re drowning in sensations. Jungkook’s choked groans, the slide of his hips, they all become too much too quickly and you’re choking back a sob.

“Fuck,” he groans, glancing down at your withered form like an animal as he picks up his pace. His hold on you tightens, never letting your body move away from him and he begins jack hammering in his thrusts, swallowing your cries with his lips. “Had me thinking you were a nice girl,” he huffs, and you wonder if he knows how tightly he’s holding you, how this grip will most likely leave you with fingerprint bruises tomorrow morning. But then again, you don’t care. All you care about is Jungkook’s voice and his body, guiding you toward completion. “But all you wanted was a quick fuck.”

You steel yourself to look at him again, and when your eyes finally open and focus, you’re wishing you hadn’t because Jungkook looks so hot over you. His pretty eyes, the ones that had led you into a false sense of comfort throughout the night and tricked you into believing he would be easy to bend to your every whim, are hard now. “Isn’t that right, doll?” He spits, and you whine when he punctuates this question with a particularly brutal thrust of his hips. His balls slap against your ass, and you squirm beneath him as you begin to feel the beginnings of an orgasm build in your core.

“I-I thought—“ you stammer, tone pitched from the way he jostles you with every thrust he gives. “Y-You wanted that,” you weekly defend, canting your hips down in a feeble attempt to progress this along.

He snorts, captures your lips in a rushed kiss where he wastes no time snaking his tongue inside your mouth. His saliva trickles into your mouth, and you whine as he purposefully lets it happen, pulls away just the slightest to pucker his lips and let a thick trail of spit fall straight into your open mouth. Satisfied with his little stunt, he rams his cock against you once more.

“If you wanted a quick fuck,” he says, nearly loses himself in your pussy, “you came to the wrong guy, sweetheart.”

You’re too caught up in the nice drag of his cock against your pussy, the tip of his cock stopping him from ever pulling out completely, that it takes you a second to process his words. “H-Huh?” You choke, teary eyes flickering across his face wildly as if the answer will be right in plain sight.

But all you’re met with is the soft pull of his lips as he flashes you a smirk, pearly white teeth tugging at the pink flesh, as he levels you with a glare of his own. Before you can question him further, he’s letting go of your waist to hike your knees into the crook of his elbows, his pouty lips growing further away as he leans back.

This shift has his cock nudging up, rubbing against the hood of your clit where a bundle of nerves he’d only briefly brushed before sits. You shriek in pleasure, writhing beneath him as the sudden sensation hits you full force. “Jungkook!” You sob, his hips slowing to a grind as he watches your face crumble beneath him.

“You like that?” He murmurs, rutting his hips against you shallowly. The change of pace, the rabid piston of his hips slowing to this, has your body melting into his touch. You barely manage a nod, eyes fluttering open and shut as his hips move sensually against you.

His cock brushes against that sensitive spot with each roll of his hips, and you’re a mewling, puddle of emotion by the third thrust. “Pretty girl,” he hums, letting go of one leg to place a hand above your mound, thumb circling your clit until you’re trembling beneath him. “Did you think I would fuck you and kick you out?” He husks, watching your body like he’s a lion and you’re his prey.

Your brain is far from comprehending anything at this point, reduced to a mere mass of nothingness as he continues moving against you, fingers rubbing your clit in all the right ways.

“Well, you were wrong about that, doll,” he huffs, and you’re blessed with the sight of his head lolling back as he loses himself in the tight grip of your pussy, skin glistening with sweat, trailing from behind his ear and over his neck, until you’re watching a pearl roll over his collarbones. “I don’t do that,” he informs you, and he pinches your clit between two fingers, hard enough that you almost miss his next words as you moan. “No, baby, I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he spits, and you whimper at his words. Finally, he lets go of your knees, right as you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and you moan out in protest as he ducks down to cage you between his arms again.

“Please,” you beg, voice hoarse as his hips slowly return to their pace from before. He’s still not pulling out as much, keeping his thrusts shallow as he kisses a trail up your neck and over your jaw.

“Gonna fuck you so good, you don’t ever want to leave, pretty,” he says, kisses the corner of your mouth as his hips pick up pace. You wanna cry, feeling so warm and cherished in his arms, his voice telling you how good you’re doing as the coil in your stomach tightens and tightens until you’re begging him for more. “Do you want that?”

“Yes! Yes!” You sob, rolling your hips against his like a madman as you chase your high.

Jungkook hums, smile smushed against your lips as he watches you desperately writhing beneath him. “Yeah? You want that?” You nod, mewls swallowed by his kisses. “Then cum for me, pretty girl.”

You whimper, just as he bucks into you once more, and suddenly you’re falling apart. It starts in your lower back, the ecstasy climbing it’s way through your body until you’re quivering and sobbing in his embrace, muffling your sounds against his shoulder. The muscles in your entire body tighten painfully, until suddenly a wave of contentment washes over you, and you’re too weak to even hold onto him anymore, arms flopping back onto the couch cushions beneath you.

The whole time, Jungkook mutters encouragement against your jaw, keeps his thrusts short but quick, guiding you through your orgasm. When you’re done, he presses an open mouthed kiss beneath your ear, pulling away to look at your boneless frame beneath him.

A few pistons of his hips later, and Jungkook is coming inside of you, cum coating your walls as he hammers his way through his orgasm. He pulls out when he’s done, and you instantly feel your mixed arousal drip out between your thighs.

Woozy from the wine and the two orgasms, you fall asleep soon after.

——

“Good morning,” you murmur, standing at the doorway leading into the kitchen, an area you’d only been able to find after stumbling around the upstairs of the house in confusion.

Jungkook whirls around, wide eyes taking in your appearance. You clutch at the hem of the big t-shirt you’d pulled on, the only article of clothing you saw that was thrown over a chair in a bedroom you didn’t dare snoop around. “Morning,” he exhales, calculating gaze never leaving you as you tiptoe over to him by the counter.

He doesn’t say more, spluttering into action when you peek over his shoulder to see what he’s up to. “What’re you making?” You inquire, and his hands begin fidgeting with the knife.

“Oh, um,” he stutters, and perhaps he’s overly aware of your presence so close beside him, because he suddenly doesn’t remember how he’s supposed to cut an avocado. Cute, you think. “Just, um, toast with avocado spread…”

You hum. After a moment, it seems Jungkook is able to quell his nerves, and he carefully slices the avocado open, spreading its innards across the toast. He hands you the first piece, which you take after masking your own surprise, and soon after he’s turning away from the counter as the two of you eat in silence.

After a few thoughtful munches of bread, you speak. “Thanks for carrying me to bed,” you say, refusing to look at him.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, almost a little too fast and you barely bite down a grin as he rambles on. “Wasn’t gonna leave you on the couch, especially not when you were so tired after… ah, yeah.”

It’s the reserved way he carries himself that gives you the balls to look at him. His ears are flushed adorably red, like when you were at dinner last night talking about his job, and all you wanna do is pinch his cheeks. “Yeah,” you agree, and then add with an air of faux shyness, “you were really cool last night.”

It’s the little devil in you begging to jump out, curious to see how far you can push Jungkook before he shifts into that suave version of himself from last night, and you would feel bad had the corner of his lips not tilted up in amusement.

He chokes out a laugh, mutters a “yeah?” and you don’t stop yourself when you jump into his arms and kiss that avocado spread right off his lips.

——

On Tuesday afternoon, Kim Namjoon is in the midst of delivering another sermon-like speech on the importance of utilizing your student ID when visiting any of the Starbucks within a two mile radius of your school, when you spot a chestnut head of hair from the corner of your eye.

“Sorry, Joon! My ride's here!” You yelp, shoving your notebook into your bag as you stumble over yourself in your haste to leave.

Namjoon blinks. “Huh? I thought you lived on campus?”

You nod, that giddy feeling starting up in your chest as he comes closer to where you and Namjoon have taken up residence on a table in the commons for your weekly meeting, and by the time he reaches the table Namjoon is still in the midst of questioning you.

“Jungkook,” You say, all dreamily and dazed, and you know this because Doyeon caught you with this same exact look on your face after he dropped you off at the dorms Sunday afternoon.

Namjoon startles. “What the f—“

“Hi,” Jungkook beams, leans down to brush a kiss against your cheek, which only serves to make you even more ditzy and dumb in the face of this handsome man. “Oh, hey, hyung.”

“What’re you doi—“

“All set?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring whatever his beloved senior was saying in favor of taking your bag off your shoulders. You nod, have to swallow a giggle down when he takes your hand in his. “Bye, hyung.”

“Bye, Joon!” You barely remember to throw over your shoulder, too busy wrapping yourself around Jungkook’s arm to hear Namjoon blabber in shock. 

“Kids these days,” he huffs.

[ part 2 ; hulu & woohoo ]

[beauregardlionett]

i think i might understand the concept of home

AO3 Link

Yasha’s car had broken down on the side of the road in some tiny town she only meant to pass through. She hadn’t even read the welcome sign half-a-mile back, so gods knew where she was. Thankfully, there was a shoulder and a sidewalk, so she wasn’t stuck in the middle of traffic. She had the hood popped and stared helplessly down at the tangle of mechanics she did not understand.

Nothing was smoking, so she figured that must be a good thing.

“Need a hand?”

Yasha glanced up, catching sight of a woman standing just outside the coffee shop Yasha broke down in front of. She stood defined in the sunlight, composed of sharp lines and lean muscle, contained by planes of smooth, coffee-colored skin. She had on a simple grey sports bra under denim overalls littered with stains and distressed patches torn in random places on the legs. Her hair was in a low bun sat over what looked like an undercut all tucked messily beneath a backward cap.

Damn...she was hot.

The woman cocked an expectant eyebrow, reminding Yasha she had yet to answer.

“Oh, um...yes?”

Hot Lady smirked and stepped off the curb to stand at Yasha’s shoulder, leaning over the open hood and inspecting the mess. Yasha was busy inspecting the tanned slope of neck to bare shoulder, all of her quite a sight in the midday sunlight.

Gods, was that a tattoo on her back?

With abrupt yet easy precision, Hot Lady hauled herself up onto the lip of Yasha’s truck and shoved her hand between various pieces of metal. Startled, Yasha looked down at the engine, hoping she wouldn’t have to call emergency services for a hand lost in her car engine.

“The alternator might be shot,” Hot Lady said, squinting as she moved her hand around a little.

“What does that mean?” Yasha managed, only a little strangled.

“Means you need to get your car into a shop because you aren’t going to have much luck getting far without it.” Hot Lady removed her hand and gave a little hop back down to the pavement. She wiped her hand carelessly on her overalls and shrugged a little.

“It’s not a super challenging thing to fix, but it will take a minute. I can point you to a good garage if you need.”

“That would be very helpful. Thank you...um...”

“Beauregard,” the woman said, sticking out her hand with a grin. “Call me Beau.”

After hesitating a moment, Yasha grasped Beau’s hand and gave it a tentative shake, cheeks warm. Her face flushed even warmer when Beau raised her eyebrow again, clearly waiting for Yasha’s name.

“Yasha,” she blurted, horrid awkwardness muddying her chest. “I’m Yasha.”

“Nice to meet you, Yasha,” Beau said as she slowly took her hand back. Yasha already like the way her name sounded rolling off of Beau’s tongue - perhaps far too much for someone she just met.

“You might need to shack up somewhere for the night,” Beau said, pulling her phone from her pocket and texting someone. “Depending on how long the garage takes with your car. I haven’t seen you ‘round here before. You got a place to stay?”

“Oh...no,” Yasha managed. “I’m just passing through.”

“Well, I texted my buddy over at the garage to come get your car. He’ll be here soon. There’s only one hotel in this town, and to be honest, it sucks. My buddy Caleb moved most of his stuff out of his apartment, but he hasn’t turned the lease over yet. He got a big wig job two hours from here and they had him start early, despite the fact he still had a month on the lease. You can crash there if you want. I’m pretty sure he left his mattress.”

Yasha blinked, dazed and flabbergasted at the turn this conversation had taken.

“I...what?”

Beau looked up from her phone, fingers pausing in their rapid texting. She seemed to take in Yasha’s stunned expression and grimaced slightly.

“Sorry, that was a lot all at once.” Beau tucked her phone away and crossed her arms over her chest. Yasha recognized the defensive tactic attempting to look casual with ease. She performed that move often enough herself.

“This ‘helping’ thing isn’t my forte - more Jess’ thing. But uh...yeah. If you need a place to stay, you’ve got one. Promise there're no strings attached or anything like that.”

“But...you don’t know me.”

“True,” Beau shrugged. “But it’s not like there’s anything to steal from Caleb’s place. It’s basically an empty apartment he’s not getting anything out of. Might as well put the place to good use.”

“Okay,” Yasha said after a moment of strange quiet. What else was she supposed to say?

Beau blinked up at Yasha, then grinned, wide and delighted. “Cool.”

A few minutes later, a tow truck pulled up. Beau greeted the driver enthusiastically as Yasha watched on, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

--

“This is it,” Beau said, shoving open the door with her hip as she wrestled the key out of the lock.

Yasha followed Beau in, fingers curled tightly around the strap of her meager duffle bag. The apartment was near barren, as Beau had said. It had a small living area that faded seamlessly into a kitchenette. Down a short hallway appeared to be a bedroom and bathroom, both doors open. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. The only sign someone had recently been occupying the space was the old mattress just visible through the bedroom door and the sagging sofa in the living room.

“Sorry there’s no food in the kitchen, but there’s a store about a block from here if you’re up for a walk. I’d hang around but I have to get to a class.”

Yasha twisted to look at Beau, something bubbling up in her chest that felt a lot like gratitude and a little like something indescribable. She watched as Beau fiddled with her key ring, only realizing what was happening when Beau pulled a key off and tossed it to Yasha. She just barely managed to catch it and not make a fool of herself.

“That’s the key to the door for ya. And,” Beau pulled a crumpled, folded piece of paper from her pocket, holding it out to Yasha. “My number, in case you have questions or you need anything. I’m a night owl and an early riser, so chances are I’ll answer whenever.”

“Thank you,” Yasha warbled after a long moment, clutching the key so hard the grooves of its identity imprinted into her palm. The notches stung like she would never forget their shape. “I mean it. This is...a lot.”

Beau rubbed the back of her neck, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the worn floorboards. “It’s nothin’ really...”

“No,” Yasha insisted. “It’s a lot. Thank you.”

Beau’s gaze met Yasha’s intense stare, her bright blue eyes wide as they took in Yasha’s sincerity. A handful of seconds stretched into eternity before Beau ducked her head, rubbing at the back of her neck.

“Yeah...sure.”

Yasha was getting the impression she wasn’t the only one completely out of her depth in this situation.

“I’ll come around tomorrow with updates...bye.”

Yasha watched her duck out the door, disappearing down the hallway before she shut the door behind Beau and clicked the lock.

--

The garage had Yasha’s car fixed and ready to go after two days. Yasha was still in town three months later.

In all honesty, she’s not sure how it happened.

The night she planned to leave, Beau had swung by and insisted on seeing her off. They ended up at a diner, tucked into a booth, talking like they actually knew each other. Next thing Yasha realized, it was nearing midnight, and they were being asked to wrap up so the diner could close. The chef had called to them from the window, an older looking man with bright pink hair who gave Beau a knowing look and a wink.

Somehow, that unplanned extra night turned into months. Yasha had taken on the lease from the absent Caleb for his apartment. She found a job at the local florist, a job she quietly enjoyed. The gravity of her situation only set in after she bought sheets for the mattress.

She met Jess - real name Jester, or Genevieve, but Yasha couldn’t sure - a bubbly girl with deep blue hair and the sweetest attitude ever. Her fingertips were permanently paint stained, and she left hastily sketched dicks everywhere she went. Yasha also met the tow truck driver from the first day, a guy named Fjord. They were a weird mix of individuals, but somehow they got on just fine. They ate dinner together every Thursday night at the same bar owned by the guy who tended the bar - one of those small town things. His name was Mollymauk - Molly for short and sometimes they instead of he - with inordinately purple hair and makeup to match.

Yasha never really spent a lot of time in her apartment. She didn’t see the point, not when she had access to the florist shop, or the diner, or anywhere else with Jess, Fjord, Molly, or Beau. Especially not when Jess’ apartment she shared with Fjord was so much warmer, much more like a home.

It took three months before Beau stopped mid-sentence of a story and blinked at Yasha over their pancakes in the diner.

“This is probably a stupid question, but did you have somewhere to be?”

Yasha looked up, confused. “Right now? Uh...no? My shift at the shop doesn’t start for another three hours.”

“No, no, I meant like outside this town. You told me you were passing through, before.”

“Oh,” Yasha set down her fork and looked out the window. Her chest felt tight. That afternoon seemed like a lifetime ago - a whole other person ago. “Not really.”

“Do...uhm,” Yasha looked over at Beau to find her pushing her food around her plate awkwardly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

This was difficult for both of them. If Yasha had learned anything in her time here, it was that they both struggled to convey their emotions eloquently. But that Beau tried meant everything to Yasha. The least she could do was meet her halfway.

“I was running, and I didn’t know where or when I would stop. But I guess this place is where I’m meant to be.”

“Why were you running?” Beau stared at her, gaze intense in a way Yasha found endearing. She watched like nothing else in the world could distract her.

“I...I had a wife. And I lost her rather abruptly almost six months ago. I tried to stay for a while, to keep what we had built together, but I wasn’t strong enough. So I ran and hoped that I would find something worth staying for again before I fell off the world.”

Beau stared at Yasha openly over their half-eaten breakfast, eyes wide.

“You stayed here. Does that mean you found something here?”

Yasha looked at Beau, at her messy bun and her undercut that needed a fresh shave. She took in the puddle of syrup, slowly saturating Beau’s pancakes and the half gone pile of bacon. Beau’s cellphone sat face down on the table so her attention stayed on Yasha. She realized the baggy sweater Beau had on was one Yasha had misplaced almost a month ago. Yasha lost her breath at the butterflies that fluttered to life in her stomach.

“I think so,” Yasha breathed, tethered and unhinged all at once.

--

They didn’t talk about it, because of course they didn’t.

But two weeks after their pancake conversation, Beau invited Yasha out for a night on the town. There were only two bars with decent night life here, and Yasha had been to both of them exactly once during her time here. (The daytime trips to Molly’s bar didn’t count, of course. She had only been to their bar for the night life once.)

She met Beau in the middle, and they walked together the rest of the way.

Beau had gotten her undercut shaved tight again, but it was hidden with the way her hair spilled loose and long down her back. She had a cobalt lace crop top on - the one with the built-in bra. The way it showed off the definition of her muscles was doing things to Yasha. The black cigarette pants didn’t help either.

A few drinks and way too many EDM songs later - or maybe only a few? Yasha couldn’t tell them apart - Yasha remained upright from adrenaline alone. Somewhere between the drinks and the beat of the music, Beau pressed up against Yasha, wiry arms winding around Yasha’s neck as they danced. Yasha wasn’t much of a dancer in any regard, but she was just tipsy enough to not care.

Beau’s hips fit comfortably in the space between Yasha’s hands, and Yasha resolutely tried not to follow that train of thought. For no other reason than she didn’t want to ruin a good thing, and there was no way Beau felt the same.

Beau pushed onto her toes, shiny black boots creasing with the motion as her lace top rode up her enticing torso.

“I really want to kiss you,” Beau called over the heavy thrum of the base. Her voice nearly got lost in the din, but Yasha heard her. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t. The weight of her heart dropping into her stomach hit too heavy and real to ignore.

Fuck, she wanted to kiss Beau, too.

Yasha’s t-shirt stuck to random parts of her torso with sweat, a detail she was now hyper-aware of with how little space existed between her and Beau. The press of bodies around them was abruptly unnerving. So much so, Yasha wound an arm around Beau’s shoulders and steered them both free, ducking into the hallway that lead to the bathrooms as Yasha gasped for air.

Beau leaned her back against the wall for support, peering at Yasha with far too much clarity for someone who could barely stand upright.

“Are you okay, Yash?” Her voice was quieter now that they had moved out of the main bar, but the base still pounded like a heartbeat through the floorboards.

With more confidence than Yasha would ever possess in her life, she caged Beau in, a hand on either side of her head against the wall. As Beau stared up at her with unabashed awe, Yasha’s face warmed with flushed embarrassment.

“I want to kiss you so bad.”

“Then do it,” Beau said. It sounded like a dare, but she said it as if she were asking permission.

With a quick swoop into Beau’s space, Yasha pressed her lips to Beau’s with the barest amount of pressure. A feather-light, electric brush of a promise, a question, and an invitation. Yasha moved no closer.

Beau leaned in, and as far as kisses went, it was simple. Neither of them surged toward the other, or grappled for purchase to deepen the embrace. It was an easy press of lips, testing the waters despite the alluring tug of the tide.

Tipsy seconds later, Beau pulled back first with a soft gasp. Yasha’s eyes fluttered open, and she felt like a cheesy teenager when she realized they had closed without her knowledge.

“Do you want to do this?” Beau asked, voice soft and a little wrecked despite the chaste kiss.

Yasha, never one for many words, gave a quick nod and ducked back in. It wasn’t confidence, more like the beginning of a realization.

Beau held onto her, this time hands back around Yasha’s neck and fingers tangled deep in Yasha’s wild hair. Yasha took one hand from the wall to cup the back of Beau’s head, fingers sliding easily over the short hairs of Beau’s undercut.

It wasn’t a fireball kiss, but it tasted like the whiskey shots they had done half an hour ago. Beau’s lips were soft and a stark contrast to the way she kissed Yasha. It wasn’t falling stars and fire lit in her chest, nor was it a cosmic shift of puzzle pieces snapping into place. As before, it was a realization, a revelation of something that might have been there for a while.

Beau kissed Yasha back, and she thought about pancakes at the diner and memorizing the way Beau’s eyes scrunched when she laughed. Yasha rubbed her thumb over Beau’s jawline and Beau’s sharp grin burst to life behind her eyelids. A tug to Yasha’s hair reminded her of Beau offering to braid Yasha’s messy locks every time they all slept at Jess’ place. Beau licked into Yasha’s mouth and all at once, Yasha pictured her apartment. She saw the walls she had kept carefully bare, the sheets she had bought, but no other furniture. The echoing emptiness of a place abandoned for a better chance, and inhabited by the echo of who Yasha used to be.

And what did people say about echoes being louder in empty rooms?

Beau kissed Yasha, and Yasha realized she didn’t want to be an echo anymore.

Beau made her feel solid in a way that was undemanding. She merely held out her hand and asked for the pieces of Yasha that were real, the parts she was willing to share. She helped Yasha make them into a complete picture.

Yasha kissed Beau back with all the gentle strength she could muster through the weight of her epiphany and the whiskey.

This time, Yasha knew she found something worth staying for.

[shiftysdogtags]

@liebgotttme I really hope you like this. I went with Lieb because i love him and this is what came to mind. Im not 100% happy with it so any feedback is appreciated. Not my gif.

Promised Proposals

Y/N’s crush on Lieb came out of nowhere. One day she felt nothing but admiration and friendship and the next the way she looked at him changed. While it wasn’t a big deal, she felt different and it scared her. Jumping out of planes into enemy territory was one type of scary but trying to admit that she was falling for him was a completely different thing.

Admiring him and the concentrated look that was painted into his handsome face she couldn’t help but

“Y/N, it’s your turn.” Babe snapped her out of her daydream, swapping the darts in his hand for the drink in hers taking a mouthful. They played against Shifty and Liebgott and if the score was anything to go by Y/N and Babe were by far the better team.

Every so often Lieb would try to encourage Y/N with words of confidence that could double as borderline flirting. A couple of times she has caught Babe side eying her after one of Lieb’s suggestive comments knowing full well she was dying on the inside. Trying to brush them off as being supportive yet an attempt to distract her and close the gap on his and Shifty’s losing streak, she couldn’t ignore the heat rising to her cheeks.

“Remember Y/N,” Lieb placed both hands on her shoulders while standing behind her. He was so close to her, closer than he had ever been before, meaning she could feel his breath on the side of her face as he leaned against her as he whispered into her ear. She couldn’t hear what he said next, trying to focus her attention on the game and not on her wandering thoughts. It’s almost as if he knew what he was doing, trying to take full advantage of the situation she found herself in just so he could win a stupid game of darts.

But she couldn't let him win. She believed if she won the game she would somehow have succeeded in hiding her true feelings too. Her denial was so deep she tried to hide it by encouraging him to flirt with the waitress who had been eyeing him all night.

“If you spent half as much time,” Y/N stopped herself mid-sentence throwing the first dart towards to board. “focusing on yourself as you do me, you would’ve noticed that dame eye-fucking you by now.”

Lieb looked over at the girl, a large smirk crossing his face. The game ended as soon as Lieb skipped off in the waitress direction. He had obviously decided he was better off giving her his attention as Y/N had pointed out.

Y/N took pride in being right, going out of her way to prove a point. The irony of it all was Joe hated that she was right and always wanted to prove her wrong but in this single act he did the complete opposite of that. This time, however, she hated that she was right. She never thought she would want to be so wrong in her life.

For the next few hours, it seemed the girl had abandoned her job, focusing all her energy on the attention Joe was giving her. By all views, she seemed to be enjoying it, she laughed along with him and leaned into him when he tried to wrap his arm around her shoulder.

It bothered her it really did. All strength of her denial was washed further and further away with each roll of her eyes at the squeaky laugh that came from the waitress.

Babe nudged her, trying to distract her. He knew her feelings for Lieb although she never told him. “It can’t get any worse.”

“Do you want a bet?” Babe glanced over to where Y/N pointed to see Lieb down on one knee in front of the prettiest waitress in the bar. He wasn’t the first guy to as her to marry him, she had rejected all of them just as she appeared to be rejecting him too.

Judging by the state of Joe, he was extremely drunk and was in no state to be making life-altering decisions. If she had said yes, who knows how he would react in the morning at the realisation of what he had done.

“He won’t remember any of this in the morning.” Shifty laughed at his friend while sipping his drink. He found it all too amusing. The thought of Lieb proposing alone was humorous but the thought of him trying to be romantic and get on one knew was downright hilarious. It’s not something anyone would expect of him.

“He might not, but I will.” The sight unfolding in front of her made Y/N laugh. He couldn’t look more idiotic if he tried. “And I won’t have any problem in reminding him.”

While it didn’t bother her in the slightest, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a slight bit jealous. It wasn’t premeditated, Y/N knew that Joe hadn’t set out to ask the poor waitress to marry him. He didn’t even know her.

When Joe stood up, finally accepting defeat and rejection, Y/N expected him to be some form of heartbroken. Instead, he wore the rejection as a badge of honour. With one hand over his heart and pretending to wipe a tear away he overplayed his mock hurt, obviously finding the situation humorous.

On his way back to his friends, he high-fived a few of the guys but his eyes lit up at the sight of her. “Did you see that, Y/N?”

“Yes, Joseph, I saw all of it,” Y/N replied. Joe’s face fell a little at her tone of voice, a hint of disappointment mixed with indifference.

Drunk Lieb, when he was in the right humour, was the most entertaining thing Y/N had ever seen. He never failed to make her laugh. Whatever little self-restraint he had left was washed away with each mouthful of alcohol leaving room for bad ideas and good times.

Reaching behind Lieb to get her coat, and for his arm to pull him up, she leaned towards him “I think it’s time for you to get home.”

“I only did it because you told me to.”

“I never told you to ask her to become the future Mrs Liebgott.”

Lieb groaned grabbing the last of his drink from the table. He didn’t need anymore but he was too far gone that one more mouthful wouldn’t make too much of a difference. Before Y/N could snatch the glass from his grip Joe knocked it back against his lips meeting her unimpressed look with a shit-eating grin. He planted a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek causing him to wobble again. The force of it alone shocked Y/N, and before she knew what to Babe had pushed her and Joe towards the door, helping her get out of there before anyone had a chance to say anything.

Did she ask him what he was doing? Why did he do that? Before Y/N had a chance to form a sentence to try to get her thoughts straight, Joe took advantage of her silence. “I didn’t like her anyway. You’re much prettier than her.”

His comment threw her thoughts into another spin. For once in her life, she was left speechless. Any other time Joe has thrown something at her, she was well prepared to return something his way.

“My Ma will love you.” He hiccuped continuing his ramblings while stumbling on loose ground. “Promise me you’ll come to see her after the war.”

After the war, Y/N thought. Would she still be here? Would Joe? It seemed like a lifetime away and she dared not to think about it. The last thing on Y/N’s mind was the end of the war and meeting Joe Liebgott’s mother was nowhere on her radar. Her only concern was getting him home safe and tucked into bed. “Yeah, sure.”

“No,” He wined and stopped walking. The last person she expected to have a temper tantrum was joe yet he stood in front of her like a child who wasn't getting his way. “You have to promise me.”

“Lieb, Alright. I promise.” With a roll of her eyes, she begged him to keep moving by linking her arm around his. The cold was starting to send shivers down her back despite having Joe so close to her. A content smile as wide as a Cheshire Cat crossed his face and he continues to lean against her as he stumbled closer to the bed that was calling his name.

Truthfully, she would have promised him anything and everything no matter what he asked her. Joe was a very convincing guy when he needed to be and it was only fuelled by the little crush she had for him.

“Y/N, will you marry me?” A gasp caught in her throat. It was the last thing Y/N expected. She never expected Joe to be the type to go around throwing out proposals to anyone who crossed his path. “I know I asked that other girl, but I don’t like her. I like you.”

She scoffed and it was her turn to stop walking with arms crossed against her chest. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“No.” The whine that escaped his throat was sure to wake the whole town up. Trying to make him stop and be quiet was useless. Trying to reason with Lieb on a good day was a losing battle.

With a hand firmly clasped over his mouth hoping it would somehow muffle his purring. “I’ll tell you what, if you remember this tomorrow I’ll give you my answer then.”

Joe fiercely nodded against her hand, apparently happy with her answer.

Taking her hand away from his face, she turned the handle to open the door of the house he was billeted in. “I mean, I don’t have a ring or nothin’-“

Y/N pushed him inside interrupting whatever he was going to say next. Of course, he had to say something to ruin the moment.

“Shut up, Liebgott.” She replied with a roll of her eyes and shutting it behind her before he could say anything else.

Her accommodation wasn’t too far away and she couldn’t wait to go to sleep and start tomorrow off fresh.

Surely he wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning, would he?

@curraheewestandalone @liebegott @vintagelavenderskies @inglourious-imagines @happyveday @easy-company-tradition @sydney-m @josephtoye @50svibes

[mochii0park]

 meraki; chapter 01 I jhs

Title: Meraki

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader / Jin x Reader

Part of series: Waterlilies and Japanese Bridge

Genre: angst I fluff

Pairing: literaryscout!hoseok x writer!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: Throughout your whole life you lived in your sister’s shadow, watching from side-lines as she formed herself into a successful businesswoman with an envying life. Never being able to fill her shoes you gradually understood the meaning of an estranged family and the burden it carried. The twenties began slowly slipping from your grasp which had been embedded with insecurities and longing for fulfilment. Pouring your heart out to strangers with a pseudonym meraki, you began second guessing the decision when an email lands in your inbox.

Author's note: unedited, it's 2am I'll reread it tomorrow

Taglist: if you want to be added to the taglist message me

@namsope32 , @cuteipat , @ofvopemin

Masterlist

Meraki masterlist

< intro | chapter 02 >

Seokjin got engaged and moved to the USA.

Your lanky fingers hover over the keyboard, the reality of the situation still lingering in the air. The send button felt heavy, as if the action would make a shift in your universe. You have already made mends with how things were going between you, but it still felt crushing.

Sucking up the little pride you had left after lying to your friend, you push the button and lock the phone hoping to gain some sanity in your walk back to the apartment. It had been a regular night out with your friends. Coffee chitchat alongside freshly baked cookies which you got as an apology for being late.

Your mutual friends felt the need to notify you of the sudden change in Seojkin’s life, wanting you to hear it from them first. Pushing it to the back of your mind as nothing but an additional fact, you continue through the night with a smile. That lasted until you the rounder the corner.

Seokjin had been your friend through university and even later as you grew up and struggled to make ends meet.  You had been there for him when his girlfriend of five years decided to dump his ass having a shift in her feelings towards him. You mended his heart through late night talks and rides across the city. He was your kiss partner after breakups, picking up your self-esteem and gluing it together. In conclusion, Seokjin was your everything. If only the feeling was mutual.

Days before deciding to confess to him, he blasts your phone with messages about a girl that pulled all the strings in his heart and awoke oceans of memories. Kim Jisoo was his high-school crush with whom he lost contact after entering his last relationship. Reconciling through social media the two hit off where they last left it and suddenly you became the dust under his shoes. 

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months of not seeing him. With a deeply rooted pain in your chest and a jealousy for the new girl in his life you stepped down allowing Jisoo to consume his being. Afterall who were you than a mere friend, easily replaceable.

The last slap came when you drunkenly confessed, having enough of their roller coaster like relationship. That was the last time you’ve heard of Seokjin’s teary-eyed voice telling you goodbye over the phone. No matter how many times he told you this sounded like the end and the suffering he felt was unbearable; it was nothing compared to the sound of your heart shattering into pieces.

Sehun told you many times that the timing was so off it made him uncomfortable, but that’s the thing about you and Seokjin. Everything was off with the two of you. From kisses to cuddles to nudes after midnight to serious conversations about pineapple pizza. Friends don’t do that, is what you kept telling yourself when the feelings for him slowly grew from platonic to romantic.

In midst of your thoughts your phone rang. Sehun the attachment dealer flashed across your phone. Giggling at the memory of how the nickname came to be, a warm feeling nest itself inside your chest. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“I left the Howl Cafe, I’m near home.”

He hums, the sound of the blinker echoing in the distance. “I’m there in five. Meet me at the bus station at beginning of your street.”

There were instances when disobeying Sehun felt like the biggest thrill of your life but right now when feelings you couldn’t pinpoint ran through you clouding your judgement, Sehun felt like a silver lining. As you wait for him to arrive, you can’t help but scroll through your phone in search for that one picture of Seokjin.

The only one you’ve saved after your last conversation. He was leaning against the wall of the bakery, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. His bleached hair fell over his rimmed glasses giving him an emo vibe. It was somewhere around three am when you’ve taken this photo. 

Both of you exhausted from running aimlessly around the city. He begged you to visit this bakery at the top of a hill, assuring you about the quality of their goods. You remember that night vividly, how you would steal a kiss or two in the shadows hiding from the reality. How he would woo you with his terrible French accent and you would answer him in your broken German.

You miss him. You miss him to the point where it physically hurt.

Sehun honks ever so caring about the people sleeping peacefully in their homes. He bursts into laughter at your jumpy reaction making you feel annoyed as you lock your phone. Settling yourself in his car you wait for his I told you so, but it never comes. Instead, he turns on his Spotify playlist clicking on Olivia Rodrigo’s good 4 u blasting it a such high volume all thoughts you had were overridden with the upbeat song.

Sehun had been your friend for the same amount Seokjin was. The two knew each other through a few short encounters, for some reason they never crossed paths for longer than ten minutes. For that you were thankful. The song comes to a finish and Sehun observes you from his seat. The lights of the city painted on the window illuminated your face, giving him a prefect view of your perplexed expression.

“How are you feeling?”

You knew he would ask this question, after all the sole reason you were driving on a highway was because of your damped mood but in whole honesty you didn’t know the answer.

“A part of me had expected it. He talked about marrying her, but he also talked about wanting to drop everything and own a cottage in Sweden.”

“Your taste in men is terrible. Remember Mark? The guy who had so many career goals but couldn’t leave his house because he thought having a life outside work was overly distracting for his oh so important career as IT support at ZARA? Or Mino who was so high you couldn’t recognise him when he dropped the weed after your breakup.” Sehun snorts.

You roll your eyes at him. Surely your boyfriend track wasn’t the best but it’s not like you seek out boys with issues, it seems that they attach themselves to you and you can’t get rid of them without a major heartbreak. “Whatever.”

Sehun stretches forward pulling your favourite chocolate bar out of the compartment, throwing it in your lap. You smile, munching on it as you switch the song to Zayn and Sia’s Dusk Till Dawn.

“I just expected him to inform me.”

Sehun shakes his head. “I am not sure why you expected that. You two haven’t shared one conversation in two months. You’ve asked for space when he told you he can’t choose between you and Jisoo. Plus, that was a dick move to be honest making him choose between his girlfriend and his best friend.”

“Space,” you emphasise,” not utter silence. He didn’t move two fucking blocks Sehun. He moved to a whole fucking country without telling a soul. Our mutual friend finds out through an Instagram story. Fucking Instagram. And I don’t care, he was a dick that started this charade might as well end it.”

By now you were fully shouting, the tears that threatened to spill before now rushing down your face. In this moment you didn’t care much about Sehun’s awkwardness regarding tears and crying, that was pushed aside when he backed Seokjin’s decision and pissed all over yours.

“Y/N,” he whispers, turning down the volume as you whimper, “there is not much you can do. You must respect his decision. You can’t force someone to love you.”

It was your turn to huff at the stupidity of his words. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t go about kissing people. Respect decision? Fuck that. Did he respect me when he made a fool out of me?

“No.”

Sehun exhales knowing that in this case you weren’t in the right mind to have a rational conversation. Seokjin was your weak point, he knew that much. Your emotions began to pour out, leaving you a sobbing mess in his car. 

“Look, I can’t stop you from having all sort of emotions for him. I can only advice you to turn off your phone for tonight and give yourself time to process the information before doing anything you might regret.”

 “I won’t blast his phone with insulting messages if that’s what you think.”

“Good, also don’t eat out your emotions. You can’t stand too much sugar in your system.” 

“Thanks doctor. I’ll just write out my emotions instead.” You say leaning into the seat, closing your eyes as you listen to the music.

“You still write on that blog?” You can hear some amazement in Sehun’s voice, and you know it’s not to mock you but to praise you for managing to stay faithful to one thing this long. You had a reputation for giving up on things in early stages because you couldn’t finish them perfectly.

The rest of the ride was spent with you eating out your emotions with the food Sehun bought from your local fast-food restaurant. Not much was said between you and him as he drove into the night letting you process the whole situation, only dropping you off at home when you felt yourself calming down.

Once in the confides of your room you strip yourself of any pent-up emotions letting all the pallet of different feelings overran you. Taking a pen, you let your heart pour into endless words scribbled away in your notebook. When you’ve felt empty the high gone, you take your laptop opening the site you’ve a long time member of. It came to you on Instagram in a form of a poorly done advertisement. It was a website for people wanting to share their poetry with strangers.

At first, you’ve done what you always do: began self-doubting your poems and their worth. Most of them were written in a spur of a moment when you felt like you would burst from the number of things you felt. But one night, when sleep couldn’t come to you and the pain of losing the person you held dear lingered in the air threatening to choke you; you signed in posting your work. It was raw and you suddenly felt exposed and naked in front of the world.

That’s how Meraki came to be. How your pseudonym became your shield, allowing you to burden it with any thought or emotion you’ve felt. In the online world Meraki was a fierce writer, letting her readers know of the pain and suffering she felt. In real world Meraki was an introverted person hiding herself from anyone willing to come close.

                                                   ____

 It was a hot Wednesday morning when you’ve gotten an e-mail from your sister informing you of her whereabouts. Due to your mother’s work preventing her from traveling, she decided to pay you a visit instead; much to your delight. The days to her wedding were numbered and so was your sanity.

Luckily for you she and her fiancée decided to stay with your parents.

The thought of her roaming the halls of the only place you’ve managed to cover in comfort was disturbing you. It wasn’t that you hated your sister but although you’ve dealt with your own insecurities some parts of the trauma still hung over you.

You’ve managed to avoid her for a good number of days since she landed in Seoul but now a week later you ran out of excuses. That’s how you found yourself sitting in a posh sea food restaurant, juggling your anxiety during the family dinner.

The last time you saw your whole family was at your grandfather’s birthday (which happened six months ago). The event left a bad taste in your mouth after you’ve spent majority of time listening to your sister’ success only receiving attention when she addressed you.

Solar and her fiancée Minho discussed the menu as they skimmed through different meals. You have been so busy staring at one spot that you’ve never noticed the waiter taking orders.

“Y/N?” Solar spoke catching your attention.

“One chicken fillet for me please.” You were so preoccupied with different thoughts you never saw what they had to offer therefore you went with your go-to food.

The moment the waiter leaves the table with the menus, your mother scoffs. “Aish you’re eating chicken again, we’re in an exclusive sea food restaurant and you’re embarrassing us.  “

“Mother, let her eat what she wants.” Solar interrupted your mother’s complaining, switching the topic to her wedding dress. Your mother beamed at the photos she showed her.

It was somehow sad how much power Solar had over your parents. One word was enough to ease them into doing whatever she liked whilst you had to beg and crawl your way and even then, you were no match for her.

You felt severely out of the place. The two talking about preparations while your father and Minho gushed over their new apartment in Tokyo. You sat there in your chair counting down minutes until you could leave. Any other day you wouldn’t bother to attend the dinner but now Solar insisted you showed up. Something about the sight of her family warming her heart, bunch of bullshit.

“How are you doing Y/N?” She asks ignoring your mother as she mumbles under her breath about your bad habits, one being smoking.

You took up smoking in your last year of university when the pressure of getting a master’s degree and balancing your parents had been too much to take in. A lot of your friends decided to find comfort in weed, but you never understood the thrill of it. Rather than spending enormous amounts for just one puff, you could buy a pack of cigarettes and still have money left for some booze.

“Not much, same old same old.” You answered pushing your nervousness away.

There wasn’t much happening in your life. You’ve started a job in a bookstore and spent your free time either with Sehun or Jihyo.

“How’s Seokjin?”

That one question had caught the table’s attention and suddenly you felt a terrible need to smoke one. Your families were acquainted through work, your fathers working together on a project. They had been shocked when they discovered that you and Seokjin had been close friends for a long time.

“He’s fine.”

“I heard he got engaged,” Your mother spoke up,” to Kim’s daughter Jisoo. Ah what a wonderful being that one is.”

“Oh?” Solar gave your mother a perplexed look narrowing her head at you. You played with the glass in front of you, the object suddenly becoming interesting.

“I thought you and he were dating.” Minho joined, telling the words that were stuck on the tip of your sister’s tongue.

“Y/N and Seokjin? Don’t make me laugh. They are worlds apart. Seokjin is so focused on his career while our Y/N thinks writing will make her a fortune.”

Taking a sip of water, you try your best to wash away the nasty words threatening to leave your mouth. Your parents never approved of your career choice not that you even cared about their opinion.

Solar hums pulling her lips into a straight line. “I’ve must’ve mistaken then. I was sure I saw you-“

“Here is your food.”

And that’s how you were saved from the embarrassment of having to explain to your sister that what she saw was imagination playing tricks on her and not you and Jin making out in front of your house. It was awkward enough when she pestered you about it the next day.

The conversation takes on a different dynamic and you breathe out in relief. You were still trying to process the news and talking about him wasn’t helping your soul.  You gather yourself before your façade could fall and mask it with a stoic expression continuing your countdown till desert when Sehun would call you for an “emergency”.

Right on time you think as your phone began to ring.

You pretend to gasp covering your mouth to show concern as Sehun sputtered nonsense. He kept talking about his trip to the gym and how his feet hurt from all the exercise he did while you tried not to show disgust as explained in detail how hit his little finger against a metal device . Solar shot you a worried look as you excused yourself from the table.

“And the award for the best actress goes out to Y/L Y/N” Sehun pitches once you close the door of the restaurant. Shooting a quick apology message to Solar, you jump into his car deJa’vu hitting you.

“I should get paid for spending so much time with you.” Sehun dripped in sweat, his black shirt sticking moistly to his body, hair pushed back.

You shrugged falling into a comfortable silence. Half an hour later he stops at the number 13, the windows of your house distinguishable by the large number of flowers catching last rays of Sun before the night settles.

“That will be 100 won and a Mcdonald’s later when you’re free.”

“Yeah, not happening” you tell Sehun, already halfway out of the car, rucksack slipping from your shoulder.

He raises a brow at you.” I am not your personal driver Y/N. I had to leave my girlfriend to drive you back.”

You scoff as you roll your eyes at him.” I’ve told you to call me for an emergency. There was no picking up included.”

He mimics your words mockingly before pressing the gas pedal leaving you behind him. Unlocking your apartment door, you’re greeted with your dog sleeping in the hallway not giving you a second glance as you pass over him. Haku’s snores echo through the empty apartment warming your heart. The Shiba became your companion two years ago when you were going through a rough patch. It took some time for you to get used to each other but now you couldn’t image not having his snot buried into your business.

Turning on the lights you sit at the kitchen table pulling your leg up to rest your head on the knee. Opening your laptop, you see a few notifications popping up on the sideline about your recent orders. Just when you were about to close the notification center you see one mail standing out. The name Jung Hoseok makes you jolt in your seat.

Dear writer aka meraki,

I hope this e-mail find you well. My name is Jung Hoseok, I’m the CEO of ZER Publishing company. I’ve taken interest in your poetry and would like to have a meeting to discuss a possible collaboration between us.

Kind regards,

Jung Hoseok

The scream that came from you couldn’t possibly be human. Closing the laptop as if it will burn you, you throw it on the sofa choosing to avoid it until tomorrow.

You didn’t know how he found you giving that any personal information on the site was strictly private. Pacing back and forward you facetimed Sehun. He picks up after three very long rings making your heart beat erratically against your chest.

“I swear to God if this is another one of your emergency calls.” Sehun stands there in nothing but a towel hugging his waist. He moves to the other side of the bathroom, bare feet pacing against the marble floor.

“I got an e-mail.”

He curses, his voice muffled from the towel pressed against his face. ” You called me to tell me about a mail?”

“Not any mail, Sehun. I was contacted by Jung Hoseok.” You whisper still walking back and forward, Haku following every step of yours. Sehun tries not to pay close attention to you, getting slowly dizzy from all the commotion.

“And something tells me I should know who that is?”

You halt taking a moment to stop yourself from starting a conversation about common knowledge again, it was a sour subject. “He messaged through the mail used for Meraki.”

This time Sehun is quite for a few seconds taking in your words. You don’t see him, but you can hear deodorant spray and shuffle of clothes. “How? Isn’t that private?”

“Yes.”

And suddenly the anxious feeling was back. The poems you wrote there were strictly private, the mention of your love life and your hardships with your family were never meant to be linked back to you. You’ve checked the websites policy not wanting anyone to associate you with the account. If that were to happen you can immediately start packing your things to move to another continent.

“I am sure he didn’t hack it; nobody is that desperate. Maybe he contacted the website owner?” Sehun takes his phone, hair freshly washed strands falling over his face. He moves from the bathroom to the kitchen placing you carefully , so you could see the whole room.

You think for a second, there was a possibility. “Isn’t that a violation of my privacy?”

“I can try to read out the rights and policy. Come up with a text signed as your lawyer but Y/N” Sehun’s voice is soft, something he did to calm you down. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, eyes having an internal battle, the look you’ve seen on him in rare moments.

“Yes?”

“I am sure if you refuse, he won’t bother you. I am also sure you don’t have much to lose if you agree.”

                                                         ____

Hoseok was on his fifth coffee by noon, deprived of any sleep last night.  He was starved for a good literature piece that would leave him in myriad emotions. Sadly, he came up with an empty line. He spent his days cocooned in the corner of Suho’s café reading page by page poetry that awoke no emotion except irritation. He was on the brink of losing his mind.

Suho slides into the booth, careful not to startle Hoseok.” Have you found anything?”

Hoseok ruffles his hair before resting his head in his hands. He was desperate enough to visit fanfiction sites in hopes of stumbling upon work that had  the spark.

“Maybe you should take a break? Visit those open mic nights where people recite their poems?”

Hoseok shakes his head having already used that option last week. “I’ve been to three mic nights and not one was interesting. I am on a verge leaving everything behind to become a stripper. Yoongi did say I have an amazing body."

Sehun by now used to his friend’s dramatic antics shrugs his shoulder.” You should really take a break. You’ve been searching for a month now.”

Hoseok wished he could take a break, but the existence of his firm lay in his hands. That enough gave him tremendous worry pushing him way above his limits.

“I know but if I don’t find a good piece in a month, I can close the firm. Do you know what that means? Hundreds of people losing their job.” Hoseok wasn’t the one to crumble under pressure but now he felt like crying. Suho offered him a smile he’s seen before, the pity smile. Patting his shoulder he gets up at the sound of doors opening ,customers swarming in.

At the end of the day Hoseok thinks everything has turned against him. His laptop dies in the middle of reading, and he discovers he forgot his charger at home. In all the despair and anger he accidentally knocks over the mug spilling coffee over important documents and his newly bought jeans. The stain will probably leave a small burn that he wasn’t ready to face today. He’ll take care of it tomorrow.

On the side Suho observes his restless friend. He felt bad for not being able to help him more, but he already used all his resources and sent them anonymously to his mail only for Hoseok to turn it down.

Sehun walks into the café with his gym in one hand and candy in the other, drops of sweat forming on his forehead. He was waiting for a call from Y/N, prepared to jump into his car at any second. He greets Suho, his sight landing on an exhausted Hoseok bumping his head repeatedly against the table lightly. He hoped to never reach this point of insanity. 

“What’s his problem?”

Suho follows Sehun’s line of sight. Hoseok sits in the booth, forehead rested against the table. Both his mind and body were tired, and the clock was ticking. “He needs to find a good poetry piece to publish otherwise he’s toast.”

In that moment Sehun weights his options. He knew how self-conscious you were about your work thinking it lacked emotion and quality and this seemed like a good opportunity to prove you otherwise. On the other hand, there was the issue with people closely linked with your poems. He takes his time picking between different sugars, steering the coffee slow enough to buy him at least one more minute.

Pushing the bills to Suho he takes a sip. “There is a website called Nora, it had lots of good poetry. I've read some.”

Suho nods following Sehun out of the café promising to deliver the message to Hoseok. Once locked up he slides back into the booth watching Hoseok pack his belongings ready to call it a day. “This costumer told me about Nora site. You should give a shot.”

“Nora?” Hoseok mocks, he heard of all the websites used for writing but Nora didn’t ring a bell.

“I think it’s new. I’ve never heard of it but he seemed sure of his words. The worst that can happen is he lied and knowing Sehun that’s unlikely.”

Hoseok nods eager to go back home to his cat Nobus and prepare himself a warm bath to release the tension built up in his muscles. Waving goodbye to Sehun, he exits the shop from the back door and turns on the engine of his car driving away to the beat of classical music easing him.

Entering his small apartment located in the centre of Seoul, he throws his shoes to the side not bothering for order tonight. Slouching himself on the couch he pets Nobus, the cat bumping his head against his arm purring softly. With eyelids half closed he opens the website on his phone, picking poetry as his preferred category.

Selecting a random writer he opens the first poem, eyes scanning the text.

 I love you             like the habit I picked up in college                  of sleeping through lectures                  or saying I’m sorry                  when I get stopped for speeding             because I drink a glass of water                  in the morning                  and chain-smoke cigarettes                  all through the day             because I take my coffee Black                  and my milk with chocolate             because you keep my feet warm                  though my life a mess I love you             because deep down I know                  you'll never be mine again   (author of the poem: Nikki Giovanni, I added three last sentences)*

With every word that Hoseok took in he felt himself back in university, all drunk on the idea of loving the girl that sat two seats in front of him during microeconomics. He relives the ecstasy of having love running through his veins, he feels the desire under his fingertips for just one touch, he crumbles at the pain of finding her kissing his best friend. Hoseok feels like his heart had been ripped apart with just few simple letters placed in a neat poem.

He sees the words meraki scribbled in a messy handwriting under the poem and he feels as if his prayers have been answered.

[ateezmakemeweep]

you’re the one that i want (part 18)

word count: 5k

angst (tw: abuse)

(part 17) (series masterlist)

tag list: @chogiout ; @psshwa ; @yeocult ; @seongghwaa ; @cherryeonii ; @chaoticbanqtan ; @8teenee ; @nczenniez ; @atinyarmyx1 ; @mingtopiaa ; @chubsluda ; @joongiebug ; @mochibabycakes ; @jisungity ; @skz-on-my-mind ; @nlost21 ; @myonlyaurora ; @closer-stars ; @kuaenam3g ; @byungaji ; @floweryjh ; @joeycheungg ; @lostscenarios ; @atinyxtopia ; @sanisms ; @kpopnightingale ; @simpforhyunjin ; @89staytinyzen21 ; @lokicaramel ; @hwaxbum ; @sakura-uji ; @songsoomin ; @toffee-hwa ; @deobitiful ; @hyunjeansuniverse ; @clown-teez ; @i-know-you-know-lee-know ; @tiny-whatsername ; @fairieofeternity ; @yixing-jaehyun ; @sleepyseonghwa ; @revehosh ; @atletino ; 

if you thought your hangover was gonna be the worst part of your saturday, you were sadly mistaken. because you hadn’t accounted for the emotional turmoil you’d be in over seonghwa, remembering how you could barely rip yourself away from him when you saw san run outside looking for you. 

the blonde had all but snatched you away from the boy and gave him a nasty look, his ex friend looking at him with a defeated look in his eye before leaving you two alone. 

“what happened?” he asked quietly, his small hands on your face wiping at your tears. you shake your head as the salty wetness leaks from your eyes, shaking your head before collapsing against him.

“can we please just leave? i can’t be here anymore.”

san takes your hands in his, looking over at the squeak of the door and stiffening when he sees wooyoung; their eyes meet and san can’t help but think back to the conversation he ran from, the black haired boy pulling him into a spare room so he could talk to him in private. 

but it was always in private and san was getting sick of it. he knew he didn’t want his friends knowing about how...in depth their relationship was and he was okay with that; if he wasn’t ready for them to know, that was fine, he understood. but to hide their friendship? something completely pure that everyone knew was a thing since they were kids?

he listened to the excuse that they would know, that they would see their lingering gazes or subtle touches and find out what changed in both of them that summer. but san pushed the boy away and cursed at him, being grabbed back roughly which led to a screaming match that ended very similarly to yours. 

“me either,” he says to you, pressing a kiss to your head before walking you guys down the block to wait for your uber. 

you slept at san’s house and you both now attempted to get down a stack of pancakes as you regretfully filled each other in on what the hell happened last night. 

“well, so much for not taking their shit,” san whined, a tiny snort leaving your mouth before your eyes widen in realization. 

“oh, my god, hyunjin! i feel so bad, i didn’t say goodbye to him.”

“he asked me for your number but i...didn’t know if you’d want that so i told him  i’d talk to you first.” 

you let out a sigh, feeling a tugging at your heart because you liked him. he was sweet and funny and it was just a bonus that he was so fucking handsome. but you weren’t good for him right now and he definitely deserved better. someone more attentive and not so hung up their stupid summer love. 

“thank you,” you tell san softly, smiling as you lean against him on the couch. “but i don’t think that’d be a good idea right now.” the blonde nods his head knowingly, stretching out on the couch before patting his lap. 

“let’s spend your first day hungover right,” he said, making you giggle as you settled your head on him. he laid the blanket out over you and played with your hair as you watched a movie marathon, his gentle touches lulling you to sleep before you woke a few hours later.

you felt a bit better but still had a lingering headache, the walk home from san’s house making the pounding in your temples resurface. 

and then, as if today couldn’t make you feel any worse, your parents car in the driveway made your heart sink and stomach twist anxiously; what were they doing home? they weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow afternoon. 

and the second they see you stumble in with your clothes from last night in hand and san’s sweatpants and sweatshirt, it begins. their questioning and shaming and harsh words, asking you where the fuck you were last night and if you were whoring around while living under their roof.

“i was with san, my coworker.”

you mentioned him once or twice at dinner but are sure they don’t remember; your mom had been in unusually good spirits that night, talking your ear off and smiling at you. 

but today’s reaction is very different, a snide laugh as she asks if he’s your new boyfriend now; “moved on from your beach boy it seems,” she says snidely. 

your eyebrows pull together, swallowing the need to defend yourself because it won’t even matter and you’re tired. you’re just so tired of everyone and everything today, wanting nothing more than to lay in your bed and fall asleep again. 

you shrug your shoulders and bow your head, attempting to walk past them. but your dad has other ideas, grabbing your arm roughly and pushing you against the wall. your head bounces off the white paint and you wince at the pain, a quiet “ow,” causing him to scoff. 

“your mother was talking to you, don’t be disrespectful.” don’t be disrespectful, he says, after bashing your head into the wall. 

“i don’t know what she wants me to say.”

“how ‘bout telling us about what you did last night,” she hums lowly, standing next to your dad in a way that makes you feel completely ganged up on. 

because even though you always are, it’s really bad right now. the obvious irritation between them about to be taken out on you, something about the look in their eyes making you very unsettled.

“i told you i was with my friend,” you say quietly, completely submissive and exhausted at the idea of conflict.

but her eyebrow raises at the same time your dad rolls his eyes, watching you carefully as he looks down at your clothes in your hand. “why are you in his clothes? did you sleep there?”

you bite the inside of your cheek, looking down at the floor and hearing your mom throw her head back in laughter. “oh, y/n...” she says mockingly, your body flinching away when she reaches out to stroke your hair. “what has happened to you? sneaking out with boys when your parents are out.” 

and then suddenly, you fall to your knees as she tugs the strand harshly. you let out a cry and wonder why the fuck they’re doing this to you. why they always feel the need to hurt you and make you feel horrible. 

why did they have a child? did they just wanna feel powerful, see how much they could disrespect and neglect another human being?

“i- i didn’t do anything bad.”

and even though you were just yanked down to the floor, you dad grabs your arm roughly and pulls you up. your wrist nearly snaps as he yells in your face, asking if that’s the case, why do you seem hungover right now?

your skin turns even more pale and he shakes his head, his hold on your wrist tightening to the point where tears prick your eyes.

“you’re hurting me,” you whimper out. 

you feel like you say that a lot these days but no one ever seems to care. they just keep hurting you, his hand yanking you away from your mom before a prompt slap across your face. 

“we didn’t think you’d do this if we went away but here you go, proving us wrong and betraying our trust.” 

a tear rolls down your cheek and it only appears to infuriate him more. he goes to slap you again but you quickly move away, cracking your head into the corner of the wall and letting out a loud yelp.

your hand flies to your head where you know is gonna bruise, but your dad rips it away again. his hand gets tighter and tighter around your wrist to the point where you think he’s about to fracture it, whimpering out for him to please please stop. 

“we won’t warn you again, y/n,” he growls lowly, something painfully shifting in your wrist and making you cry out again. “don’t give us fucking trouble and we won’t have to do this.” 

you meet his gaze and see nothing but anger and rage and disgust looking back at you, getting shoved away from him and falling onto your butt in the dark hallway. your parents loom over you in a way that makes you think they’re gonna continue their assault on you, kick or slap you some more and really make you regret doing this. 

but they only look at you before walking into the kitchen unbothered, panic stirring in your chest before you scurry backward into your room. you close and lock your door before resting your head against it, silencing your cries into your knees.

you drown out the sound of your parents screaming and yelling at each other, jumping when harsh banging and insults are shouted through your door. calling you all sorts of names and cursing at you like you can even hear them through your pounding ears.

you feel a bump forming on your head, making the throbbing ache in your temples ten times worse. you try to move your wrist but wince at the sharp pain that rushes through it, trying to breathe through your ragged cries and sobs.

you can’t do this anymore. 

you can’t keep walking on eggshells and dealing with these outbursts that leave you battered and bruised and hurting. can’t keep making excuses for them that you were in the wrong and deserved some sort of punishment. that because this happened, they might not hit or yell at you for the next few days.

your phone buzzing in your pocket causes you to jump, your heart soaring at the idea of seonghwa’s name popping up right now; he saved you last time from them so maybe he’ll do it again. 

but it’s san asking if you got home okay attached with a selfie of him on his couch with a pout. you can only send him a heart back before moving to seonghwa’s name, your shaky fingers typing out a message to him. 

but then as you stare at the three pathetic words, you can’t find it in yourself to send it. instead, you throw your phone across the room and bury your face in your arms. because if you told him clear as day in words that you needed him and he ignored it, you don’t think you’d ever recover.

it’d make your desperate attempts to calm your breathing even more difficult.

but it feels as if you can’t breathe even into the next day, not once leaving your room to eat or get a drink of water; you only pee once and that’s when you take a drink from the faucet, splashing cold water on your face and wincing at the bruise on your head and deep, red markings on your swollen wrist. 

and even though you spend most of that sunday sleeping, you can’t find it in yourself to go to school on monday. 

you woke up and couldn’t imagine dealing with anything, schoolwork or teachers or avoiding seonghwa. you text san that you won’t be in school but will be there for your shift at 3:30, knowing you’ll have to be out of the house to not tip off your parents. 

because you think if they catch you in another lie, they’ll make your throbbing head and wrist feels ten times worse. 

“jesus christ, y/n, were you running like 20 miles an hour when you hit into the cabinet?” 

you knew it was cliche but you had to think of something. 

because the egg on your head looked as bad as it felt and you knew san was gonna question it. so a breathy little laugh left your mouth as you shrugged, redness creeping on your face as you easily lie to san about being clumsy. 

“there’s clumsy and then there’s reckless, y/n, let me get you a-”

“san,” you hear a familiar voice growl. and it’s at that moment your head snaps up and you see seonghwa’s face fall, looking over you before his eyes widen when he sees your head.

“where were you?” he demands as he walks toward you, not even noticing san’s hands on you as panic sets in on his body. what happened to your head? that bump hadn’t been there when he saw you two days ago. 

he knew something was wrong when he didn’t see you in homeroom. he felt it in the pit of his stomach and his mind hadn’t stopped racing since then, becoming even more frantic when he saw san sitting alone at lunch. 

he couldn’t explain why but the memory of seeing you with your parents swarmed his mind, the look of fear in your eyes and the way your dad was so quick to jump up and tower over you in your aunt’s backyard.

"i know she's your sister so i'm not implying anything," he said bluntly over the table, the cup of chamomile tea she always offers him but he rarely drinks next to him. "but she's so scared to go back to them and i...do they hit her?"

"they're assholes, seonghwa, i'll be the first to tell you...but i don't think they would physically harm her." 

he held on to your aunt’s words all day but right now, they’re no longer comforting him. not with that way you’re practically shaking under his gaze and how that bump appears to just grow bigger and bigger. 

“i...i wasn’t feeling good this morning.”

his eyebrows pull together and he moves closer, reaching out to take your face in his hand. you hold your breath as he turns your head to the side, assesing your face carefully as tears prick your eyes because this is too much. he can’t find out, he can’t see you break down and finally admit what’s been haunting you since the day you were born. 

“does this have something to do with it?” 

your eyes apprehensively meet his and you swallow nervously at the look in them, blazing with hot determination and it’s then you realize there’s no getting out of this. that he feels something is wrong, the same way he was always so in tune with how you felt and read you so well. 

you’re saved by the ding of an oven in the back room, the cookies san put in twenty minutes ago needing to be taken out to cool. it’s the perfect excuse to rip your face away from seonghwa and shake your head, mumbling to san that you’ll get them before leaving the boys. 

seonghwa waits until the door closes to look at his old friend, the blonde looking at him with an unreadable expression. 

“what did she say happened?” 

san purses his lips to the side, biting the inside of his cheek before reluctantly speaking; he can tell the boy is frantic and plagued with worry. he’d been like that at lunch too, he noticed, bouncing his leg or rocking anxiously in a way he knows he does when he’s unsettled. 

“she walked into a cabinet.”

seonghwa rolls his eyes as he lets out a groan, his hand falling into a fist so he doesn’t punch the counter and make san angry; but holy fuck, is he serious? is he really buying that?

“do you actually fucking believe that?” he snaps, san’s face immediately pulling into confusion; why wouldn’t he?

“why the hell wouldn’t i?” he questions, looking at seonghwa who’s gotten considerably more anger and agitated. 

but it’s then the boy realizes you probably didn’t tell him about your parents.

about how they treat you and how many problems you have with them. he hasn’t seen the way they look at you or act around you, doesn’t have this overwhelming inclination that they did that to you, something that’s about to make him lose his shit if it’s true.

“seonghwa? why wouldn’t i? why would she...why would she lie?”

seonghwa bites the inside of his cheek before the door swings open, your eyes meeting his before you place the plate of cookies down. you can feel the tension in the air, san’s eyes on seonghwa while his are on you. 

“can i talk to you outside for a second?” seonghwa asks you quietly, your eyes widening as a lump forms in your throat. you get unnerved when instead of butting in, san only looks between you and him with curious eyes. 

you look at seonghwa and shake your head, feeling tears burn the back of your eyes. “i don’t think that’s a good idea, i have to do this-”

“i’ll do it,” san says, something about seonghwa’s words and intensity making him, surprisingly, side with the boy who’s hurt you so much. because he can see clear as day the concern and desperation in his gaze. you snap your head to look at the blonde and his gaze softens, attempting to give you courage through his eyes. 

you let out a sigh of defeat before walking out from behind the counter, you and seonghwa’s arms bumping as he opens the door for you. you lean your shoulder against the glass window with your head casted down, your eyes focusing on the scuffs in seonghwa’s shoes. 

he allows the silence for a few seconds before softly calling your name, a shaky exhale leaving your mouth before you look at him.

“what happened?” 

you press your lips together so you don’t cry out, begging the tears not to fall as you shake your head. “nothing, i walked into a cabinet.” 

seonghwa’s jaw tightens as he looks away from you, air blowing from his nose as he lets out a scoff. 

“what did i say about lying to me?”

you can’t even find it in you to say something snarky or roll your eyes, looking up at him with glossy eyes. “i’m not lying,” you say quietly, your lower lip wobbling and eyes becoming wet. 

his eyes soften as his eyes roam your face, taking a step closer as he takes your face in his hands. “then why are you about to cry?”

“i’m not,” you snap, moving your face out of his hold before you step back. “always seems to happen when you’re around though.” his eyes narrow at the way you turn defensive, knowing while there’s truth to your words, that’s not what this is about. 

there’s something more tugging behind your eyes, backing away from him and dropping your gaze because he knows the power you both hold over each other is too much.

“i won’t deny that, baby, and i’m sorry but that’s not it,” he says, reaching out to tug you closer to him. a breathy sigh leaves your mouth as you feel your resolve breaking, his eyes on you too much because you just want to melt into his soft touch. 

but if you do that, you’ll break completely today. and it’s already all too much for you. 

“please tell me what happened,” he says quietly against your head. “remember what i said? whenever you needed me, i’d be there?” 

you can’t help but laugh as you pull yourself away from him because that’s not fucking fair in the slightest.

“did you just remember that? where was that memory months ago, seonghwa?” 

he licks at his lips anxiously, knowing that you have a point. but this is completely different. this is a matter of you being harmed and that’s something he cannot stand. 

“this is different and we both know that, y/n,” he says quietly, his hand raising to touch the bump on your head again; but you move away before he can make contact with you.

“can you only be the one that hurts me?” you suddenly snap, not even realizing the words as his hypocrisy irks your broken spirit. but that sounds like an admission of some kind to him, his dark eyes flaring as he walks closer to you.

“so someone did hurt you,” his deep voice, your teary eyes rolling as you move away from him. 

“of course that’s what you got out of that,” you laugh out humorlessly, shaking your head before your eyebrows pull together. “yes, seonghwa. someone did hurt me. a cabinet.” 

he lets out a huff as he tries to reign in his anger, his jaw clenching at the way you snap at him. 

“baby, i know you’re mad and i get that. but you need to fucking stop-”

“you need to fucking stop,” you yelp, your voice breaking as the tears behind your eyes surface and voice wobbles. “you...can’t keep doing this. why can’t you just leave me alone? i...we said we were done and it was going well so why all the sudden are you-”

“who. hurt you,” he asks, stepping forward and taking your face in his hands. his thumbs rub over your wet skin before he reaches up to the bump on your head, wincing as a quiet whimper leaves your mouth. 

“tell me. talk to me, baby.”

your lower lip wobbles at the softly spoken tone of his voice, setting off every memory in your brain from when he’d sound like that in your bed. with the sun streaming through your open balcony doors as his breath tickled your neck. or quietly spoken into your salty skin on the moonlit beach.

when it seemed as if you two would never have to face anything that bad and could just kiss and laugh in the sun or behind closed doors.

“please stop,” you whisper quietly, shaking your head as you’re smacked back and forth with anger and sadness and defeat. “it doesn’t matter.”

“how can you say that?” he growls lowly in your ear, anger ripping through him. 

how could you really think it doesn’t matter when he’s here ready to kill the person who did that (even though he already has a good idea of who it was). he holds your wavering gaze before letting out a sigh, his thumb caressing your face softly in a way that makes your chest feel heavier. 

“tell me, y/n. don’t lie to me. you know it never fucking worked.”

except it did, you think. it did work and you need it to keep working. but you feel yourself breaking down because of him too and you’re not sure how much longer you can put it off.

your tongue peeks out to lick over your lips anxiously, shaking your head at him.

“i can’t,” you say quietly, voice barely above a whisper. 

he tightens his hold on your face, desperate and pleading as he breaths out your name. you can’t tear your gaze away from him no matter how much you want too, feeling your eyes grow more and more wet.

“seonghwa, it’s not-”

“hey, you creep! why do you keep following her?” 

both your heads snap back, your eyebrows pulling together when you see two girls standing outside the cafe. and it’s not until she stalks forward and her friend grabs her hand that you recognize the both of them from the party.

“jojo, you can’t just-”

“she was cornered by him and crying last time,” the girl says, looking over you with concern in her eyes. “we just wanted croissants and now we have to-”

“i’m not cornering her, i’m trying to talk to her,” seonghwa snaps, this abrasive girl’s timing absolutely fucking terrible. “so why don’t you mind your business?”

“why don’t i mind my business when i see an asshole like you constantly in this girl’s face?” she snaps back, her friend’s desperate pleas telling her to stop. you even try to tell her it’s okay before seonghwa growls again, his hands dropping from your face as he asks who she is to say that shit. 

“seonghwa, it’s fine, she’s just trying to-”

“what’s going on?”

the four of you look at san whose blonde head is poking outside the door, the tension in the air thick. he’d been watching you both closely through the window before he noticed you two snap your heads away from one another, a dark and irritated look crossing seonghwa’s face he knew was not a good sign.

“this asshole is harassing her again!” 

“this asshole knows her, unlike you,” seonghwa argues back, “so seems like you’re the fucking creep.” 

your hand grabs his arm to pull him closer to you, his head snapping back and face immediately softening when he sees the tears in your eyes, knowing the last thing you want right now is more conflict .

“oh really? because it seems like-”

“it’s fine, she’s okay,” san softly assures the girl. “he was just leaving anyway. y/n has to get back to work.” seonghwa looks at the blonde who immediately shakes his head, a stern look in his eye that actually causes him to sigh. 

seonghwa looks down at you again, frowning at the sad look on your face. he wipes at your face with his thumb before lifting your chin. “we’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?” and because you know you probably don’t have a choice, you let out a sigh and nod your head. 

it takes him a few seconds to pull himself away from you, the bump on your head and sadness in your eyes making his stomach knot. he gives the mouthy girl a dirty look before thanking san quietly, the two girls not saying a word until seonghwa’s a few feet away. 

“jojo! you have to stop doing this,” the smaller girl says, smacking her friend in the arm before turning her gaze to you. “i am so so sorry. she knows no boundaries and she’s only trying to help but-”

“it’s okay,” you laugh out humorlessly, shaking your head as you wipe at your face in embarrassment. “he really was just talking to me. but i...i do tend to cry in his presence.”

“well thats sucky of him,” jojo says. a small smile coveing your face as you nod, moving your gaze to the san. “i’m sorry,” you say softly. but the blonde only shakes his head and opens the door wider, ushering you three in with dimply smile on display. 

“did you guys say you wanted croissants?” you ask the girls, both of them nodding guiltily. you smile softly as you prepare them and san rings them up, the three of them talking quietly. 

“so they just told me they saw you and seonghwa at the party too?” 

“yeah,” you say, plopping down the two plates with a sigh. “when he had me pinned against the wall insisting he loves me.”

“now that,” jojo says, croissant raised to her mouth with her eyebrows raised, “sounds interesting.”

“oh jesus christ, jo, please learn to respect boundaries,” the other girl says, smiling dismissively as she’s about pull them away. but then something in you causes you to speak again, maybe because you’ve never had girls to ask their opinions on and they seem like the best option you could get. 

“i know you barely know me and this might be weird,” you find yourself saying,  “but it’d be nice to get another perspective from someone who isn’t....him,” you say, turning around to see san stealing his 4th cookie from the jar. 

“please!” jojo squeals, pulling up two chairs to the counter as her friend politely nods; she’s more shy and reserved but open nonetheless, introducing herself as bo-ra and insisting you don’t have to delve into your personal information despite the way her friend has inserted herself into it twice now. 

you giggle softly, your sad spirit oddly lifting in the presence of these two strangers. but there’s something comforting about them, interested in the perspective of two girls who you also know will have two very different thoughts. 

“so let’s hear it!” jojo says excitedly, plopping down in her seat not at all prepared for the story she was about to get. 

a story of summer love and a budding relationship, where you two truly opened up and let each other in. where it seemed as if maybe two months was enough time to fall in love, if the look in your eye or smile on your face as you retold it wasn’t a good enough indication.

san watched with a frown as you recounted the memories, your voice twinged with amusement as you told them about surfing before your eyes turned teary, explaining how the days counting down till the time you had to leave were miserable. how sad and heartbroken and upset you were that you’d no longer be together.

“so you could only imagine my surprise when i saw him in my homeroom,” you tell them, jojo and bo-ra clutching onto one another, two more croissants gone. 

“shut up!” jojo squeals, “that’s crazy!”

“there are so many other places you could’ve moved!”

“i know,” you say with a small smile before it quickly falls off your face. “but you would’ve thought he never saw me in his life. he just...completely avoided me.” and getting through the past few months with him was a whole lot harder and sadder to hear, hurt laced in your tone that makes san rub your back gently.

“and i get it, i do, i came out of nowhere and probably shocked him. but...for him to act like that? why...it makes me feel like he lied the whole summer.”

“exactly!” jojo says. “and like what’s the big deal? he has to keep up some stupid fake image? that’s literally sick of him. what the fuck?”

“there could be more to it, jo, only they really-”

“SICK!” 

you smile sadly as you shrug your shoulders, looking at bo-ra who’s biting down on her lip. “be honest,” you tell her quietly, seeing the hesitation on her face. “i blurted all of this out after knowing you for five minutes because i wanted girl’s opinions.”

“well we’re friends now, that’s for sure,” she giggles. “but i don’t know. it’s definitely not right what’s he’s doing obviously and he doesn’t deserve for you to forgive him so easily. but i will say that he probably prepared himself for leaving you more than you know. he probably came home and had already checked out of his emotions and seeing you again caught you him off guard.”

you bite the inside of your cheek as you nod your head. 

“even so, though, he shouldn’t treat her like this. he knows she’s upset and he’s so easily avoiding her,” jojo says. but san only lets out a snort and shakes his head. 

“definitely not easily. if he’s not watching her, he’s begging her to talk and listen to him. it’s obvious to everyone he likes her but when it comes time to admit it, he’s a-”

“stupid teenage boy. and admitting it is what matters so he’s really dropping the ball,” jojo says. and all three of you can agree with that, nodding your head with a sigh. 

“yeah. i don’t know,” you sigh out. “because i really do...care about him. and i know he cares about me too. he was just so... good, you know, and i miss him even though i see him everyday.”

it’s a sentiment that you’ve thought about all too much these past few weeks, how you see the same face and hear the same voice and have your body react to him the same way but still miss him. miss his smile and soft touch and sweet words that without fail made you feel better. 

“maybe tomorrow, without interruption, you can get it all out in the open. for good,” bo-ra suggests. “no more back and forth. really get everything out and tell him you guys have to come to a decision. either forget about everything for good, for real this time, or be with each other again.”

(part 19)

[enviedear]

secrets that you keep → peter parker

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in a consolation trip back to europe, the kids of midtown high are eager to have a normal vacation, finally. but you on the other hand are on a mission. something weird is going on with peter parker, and you’re going to figure it out.

PAIRING ⌙ peter parker x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.4k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“-smaller group than before, but we’ll still have fun guys. the tour company has made precautions for you kids. there will not be a repeat of last year.” mr. harrington babbles.

you sink lower into the bus seat. you did not want to be back in europe. truthfully you want to be anywhere but here. wherever, here, was. no one knew. cell service went out about five miles back and the bus driver didn’t speak english. 

“yeah guys, don’t worry. this trip is going to be ten times worse than the last. it’s already started bad since we don't know where we ARE!” flash yells, running a hand down his face.

mr. harrington tries to calm him and the rest of the bus down, to no avail.

you block out the commotion and stare out of the bus window. grass, farm, cattle, shack, more grass, more farm. and not one single cell tower in sight. this is it, you think, this is how it ends, stranded in a foreign country with the most annoying people you’ve ever known.

“guys, GUYS! my service is back,” betty yelps. “it says we’re in wiveliscombe, and that it’s going to be three hours until we reach london.”

her words are met with groans.

“at least we have cell service now.” jokes peter parker, who’s sat in the seat across the aisle from you. he’s cute and nice, but weird. last year’s trip he had about a thousand excuses as to why he’d leave the group and if it happened this year, you were gonna figure out why. no matter what it took.

“mhm, and since we have access to the endless possibilities of the internet again, we don’t have to talk..” you huff.

“i.. sorry. i didn’t-” you cut him off by placing your earbuds back into your ears and turning the volume up. 

something about peter irked your nerves in a way you couldn’t understand. maybe it was the way he knew fucking everything. maybe it was the way his body became incomprehensibly fit in such a short period of time. you really couldn’t understand that. even went as far as to do research on steroids, but found there was no way he could be using those. most probably it was the nonsense of his idiotic excuses. he might be able to fool everyone else, but not you. you knew there had to be something going on.

he and his stupid cute little brown curls, button nose, and six pack were under your firm watch.

by the time the bus reached the hotel the sun was beginning to set. jet lagged and in need of a long shower, you’re one of the first to fly into the hotel.

“It's me and you for the next week.” mj smiles, holding out a room key for you. truthfully, you really liked mj. she was cool and liked a lot of the same things as you. but she had one fatal flaw in your eyes, she used to date peter parker.

it was a short lived relationship, almost everyone saw it as a fling. peter and mj were just… too different. but they remain close friends.

it’s not like you were jealous... just, a tad bit jealous. besides, that ship had sailed and your goal wasn’t to end up like mj on the last trip to europe. no, you had other plans.

“cool. we can watch murder mysteries tonight and grab some snack from the convenience store down the street.” you grin.

the rooming situation for everyone else took entirely too long. it started with flash being upset that his room requirements weren’t being met. he wanted nothing to do with a roommate. this, caused his previous roommate, zander, to object to rooming with someone so, ‘coddled’.

took a full twenty minutes to resolve the issue. 

“mj, you still wanna visit the national gallery tomorrow?” asks the one and only peter parker.

“uh, yeah. y/n, wanna join?” she questions.

you were ready to object, finding it far more intriguing to stay in and sleep but then you remembered your little mission. if you wanted to figure out what peter parker’s deal was, you’d have to be around him. 

“sure. nothing better to do.” you shrug, peering straight into peter’s eyes. 

“i, uh- i thought we’d get an early start to the day. ned wants to go on the jack the ripper tour, so that gives us until one to look through the museum.” peter rambles.

“alright, me and y/n will meet you two down here around ten thirty.” mj clarifies.

“see you then. night mj,” he looks to you. “goodnight y/n.”

you narrow your eyes at him, “sleep tight parker. busy day tomorrow.”

with that you and mj enter your room, ready to sleep off the jet lag. and soon enough, sleep carries you into her open arms, preparing you for the day ahead.

the next morning consists of peter and ned rushing in and out of their room. the duo forgetting nearly everything they needed for the day. it was extremely annoying. but you’d take watching the two ninnies scramble about over this tour you’re forcing yourself to get through right now.

the national gallery was proving to be a bore. maybe it was you. or maybe it was the dull ass tour guide. either way, you’re finding it hard to focus on any of these artworks around you.

“this is the arnolfini portrait. it’s the work of jan van eyck and it is believed to depict an italian merchant named giovanni di nicolao arnolfini. this painting has remained in the national gallery since 1843.” the tour guide drones.

you peer up at the art, searching for anything to interest you about it. you try to focus of the dark green of the woman’s dress, then the small dog, but nothing about this art is appealing to you. instead, you find the whispered conversation going on behind you to be much more intriguing.

“ned how am i going to make it all the way to japan and back here before the ripper tour?” peter grumbles.

japan?

“i don’t know, but i really don’t want to go on a tour of the most infamous and creepy serial killers of all time without my best friend.” ned whispers.

“but mj will be there, and.. y/n.” peter assures.

“great. they both creep me out. that’s like, two extra loads of creepy added onto the already creepy tour.” ned huffs.

“dude, i have to go… mr. stark is waiting on me.” peter pleads.

you hear ned give an annoyed, “fine.”

you wait a few seconds before turning around to face peter’s friend.

“where did peter run off to?” you ask, as innocently as you can.

“uhhhh- the bathroom. the uh, hotel bathroom. yeah, must have been those tomatoes he ate with his breakfast today.” ned gulps.

“mhm. well i think i’ll meet up with him. he shouldn’t walk all the way back alone.” you smirk, shoving past ned and running the direction peter went.

it took a good minute to find him outside, the boy running into a bakery. but once your eyes find him, you rush straight in, right behind him. eyes narrowed and full of questions. 

the brown haired boy quickly enters a bathroom and you grin. 

no escaping now, parker.

you wait outside the bathroom eagerly. only for minutes to pass. no sound escapes the room and you furrow your brows.

you knock on the door, no answer. annoyed you open the door, only to be met with an empty bathroom. 

an empty bathroom with an opened window.

what the fuck?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“we’ve been upgraded!” mr. harrington gleams, looking down at our tired faces.

“last time we were upgraded we almost died.” betty sighs.

“ah- what did i say, we’re not going to repeat last year,” harrington retorts. “now...how do you guys feel about paris?”

well those words certainly livened up the breakfast table. train tickets are soon passed around, and you study yours, spoonful of yogurt still in your mouth.

“hey y/n, mj and i are gonna go to the louvre when we get there,” ned grins. “wanna come with?”

you chuckle, “another museum? nah, i’m good.”

mj quirks a brow at you, “this museum is home to the mona lisa. it’s not just any museum.”

“and the mona lisa is not just any painting… it’s an ugly one.” you huff.

ned guffaws at you.

“honestly, i might skip out too.” peter says.

you turn to face him, “great. you and i can explore paris while mj and ned explore another museum.”

he shifts in his seat, “i dunno i was thinking of-”

mj cuts him off, “i think that’s a great idea y/n. don’t you, peter? you remember what harrington said.. no repeat of last year.”

her eyes are cold as she awaits his answer and he fidgets more in his seat.

“i just think it might be best for me to stay here… ya know in case mr. stark needs anything.”

you roll your eyes, “dude, you’re just an intern. what could he possibly need that his other ten thousand interns can’t do.”

“technically he only has like six other… interns.” peter mumbles.

“but uh.. they can handle whatever mr. stark needs from you. i mean they’ve been av- uh, interns, for a while.” ned says, eyes pleading with his friend.

peter sighs before smiling at you, “alright, me and you versus paris.”

no peter parker, me and myself versus your dirty little secret.

somehow you got to sit next to peter in an empty train car for the ride to paris. and holy shit.. could he talk.

his eyes did have a way of lighting a fire inside you as he talked but, that, was not the point.

it was between an empty car with peter or full car sat between flash and harrington.

peter is always better than the latter.

“-anyways, how’d you convince your parents to let you go back to europe?” he asks.

“i didn’t. they made me.” you say simply.

peter slumps into his seat a little, “uh, why?”

“because when they were younger they traveled the world. i dunno, i guess they expect me to want to as well.” 

“oh. well, are you enjoying it so far.” he asks.

i’d enjoy it more if i could figure out your damned secret, parker.

“sure.”

and then, finally, peter is quiet. 

but not for long, as the train comes to a screeching halt.

over the train speakers comes a booming voice, “veuillez rester calme. le train s'est arrêté en raison d'un dysfonctionnement du moteur.”

your body tenses and you look at peter, “please tell me you understand french?”

“a little.. i dont think we need to worry. they said it’s just an engine malfunction.” he nods, looking around the train car.

you try to breathe. 

everything is okay. there’s no evil robots coming to destroy a train car with two innocent teenagers. that’s so pre civil war. just breathe. 

suddenly a loud bang is heard from the car behind you. not just any bang… a gunshot.

“holy shit.” you whisper, stiff as a board.

peter on the other hand is rummaging through his bag.

“parker! what the fuck are you doing?” you hiss.

“i.. just trust me okay? when i tell you to run… run.”

you look at him with a scowl, “i’m not going to be the sacrificial pig for slaughter, asswipe.”

he rolls his eyes, “i’m going to run with you. we’re going to find an empty car and then… wait for spiderman.” 

you blink. the kid’s gone insane.

“peter. listen, i know coping with your own inevitable death can be hard but, spiderman.. really?” you groan.

another loud bang comes from the car behind you. 

peter looks at you, taking your hand in his. 

the door to your car bursts open.

“run!” peter yelps, rushing into the next car, the gunmen not far enough behind.

“holy shit i’m gonna die.” you scream.

peter throws something at the gunmen when the two of you enter the next car, separating the two of you from the monsters.

but the kid didn’t throw just anything at them. motherfucker threw a damn door. a metal train door.

by the time you process the information, peter is pulling you into a cramped bathroom.

“i don’t have much time but basically, hi, i’m spiderman. those guys back there are people tony stark pissed off really bad and i need you to hide in here until i fix this issue.”

with that he pulls his jacket off revealing the spiderman suit you’re so used to seeing on the news.

“that’s your secret? this entire time i’ve been hanging around you trying to figure it out, and it turns out you’re spiderman. i would have thought anything before fucking spiderman.” you dwell, eyes wide.

he slips his mask on, “wait, you only hung out with me because you thought i had a secret? i mean.. i did but-”

another loud bang interrupts him, “nevermind. we’ll talk about this later. stay here and don’t tell anyone what i just told you.”

you nod, and watch him exit the bathroom.

so much for “not a repeat of last time.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“at least it wasn’t witches this time.” mr. dell sighs.

your entire fourth period groans. 

“what! our world is infested with witches now. i don’t even know why i’m teaching science. i’m gonna turn around one day and suddenly i’ll be teaching witchcraft.”

your eyes return back to your desk, staring a hole into the old wood. your trance is broken by a crumpled piece of paper. you roll your eyes and turn your attention to peter, who after europe has been watching you like a hawk.

you open the paper to see, ‘listen, mr. stark said i need to get written evidence that you won’t spill the beans. please sign below.’

you grimace but sign at the bottom of the paper and hand it back to your new ninny friend.

that’s right. friend. despite being one of the most annoying people on the planet, with the weirdest secret ever.. peter was nice. he was really nice. he liked almost everything you did and listened intently to whatever you had to say.

“earth to y/n.” his voice calls from beside you.

“oh? is class over?” you ask.

he nods and holds his arm out to you. you take it and give him a half smile.

you may find peter parker to be the weirdest dude ever, but you can’t deny that the secret superhero is starting to flood your mind. you never thought you’d be the one to say it, but peter parker is the coolest weirdo you’ve ever met.

and besides, your mission was a success. you figured out his secret and obtained a friend along with it.

well, friend, until you could complete your newest mission.

telling him you like him. like, a lot.

[botanicials]

wish this was the full part, but here is a sneak peak of falling in love at a coffee shop. the first few rough paragraphs. coming soon! littles will be posted until then ❣️

falling in love at a coffee shop

i. (sneak peak!)

October 13

The cold NYC wind is forgiving for once, all things considered. You had just spent your evening watching over seven sugar high eight-year-olds that had decided finger painting was the ideal after school activity. It was laborious at times and their parents probably weren’t too pleased, but the kids were happy.

Your phone is warm against your cheek as you walk, owing to the Disney Favorites playlist you were asked to play- and Eloise skipping nearly every song that wasn’t sung by Elsa or Moana. Your mother’s words are insistent in your ear: plane tickets, dinners, graduation details.

“It isn’t for another… what? Four months? We’ll figure it out.”

You hear your mother sigh. “I’d rather plan everything out now, the end of the year brings me enough stress as is.”

“It-“

“And what is it with your graduation ceremony being in January? Such an odd time. I mean, right after the holidays? Don’t they realize we might want a bit of a break?”

You laugh lightly at that, eyes spotting the familiar rusting sign hanging up ahead. “Um, has to do with my hours and the kids’ semester ending. I don’t know. Tickets should be cheaper, they usually are after Christmas.”

“Suppose that’s a positive.”

“Definitely a positive- I’ll call you later, I’m grabbing some food so I can hurry up and get home. There's an apron covered with paint in my bag and I’m convinced it’ll stain everything I have inside.”

You begin to unwrap your scarf from your neck as you near closer to the mahogany red door, turning to push it open with your side. “You put an apron covered in paint in your bag?” She sounds incredulous.

“It’s rolled, mom. I’ll call you later.” You repeat.

“Soon.” She says, and you hum before finally ending the call.

A gust of warm air hits the chilled skin of your face when you enter, along with the strong aroma of brewing coffee and a hint of vanilla. You move quickly to close the door behind you, not wanting to disturb anyone with the reality of what they’d have to endure once they leave.

“Welcome in.”

Your eyes follow over to the voice that called out, to catch him take a quick glance at you before turning to meet your eyes again.

He’s not much taller than the familiar college students that work here, but judging from his shoulders, his build is clearly much larger. Atop his wool baby blue sweater is a- definitely used -burgundy apron you’ve seen time and time again. Who you haven’t seen, however, is him.

Once his eyes flicker to the new customer in front of him and back to you, you realize that you’d completely ignored his greeting. And hadn’t moved from the door?

You find yourself sending a clumsy smile before moving across the hardwood floors to stand in line behind the short balding man repeating his order.

Your phone is in your hand a moment later, needing a distraction as to not ogle at the pretty green-eyed barista any longer. Your thumb instinctively lands on Instagram, as much as you wish it hadn’t.

A selfie of an old friend from high school.

A photo of someone’s newborn. The third you’d seen this month.

The conventional food flat lay.

You hear the man in front of you make a second order of two dozen bagels for a big meeting tomorrow morning. “Hoping for a promotion,” he says, a clear smile in his voice. You silently wish him the best. With bagels from Coldwell’s, he was bound to make a good impression.

You’ve been coming here since the beginning of your junior year, finding the cozy café to be a home away from home. You’d discovered it after moving out of your dorm, it was an unmistakable upgrade from the campus coffee shop you were forced to visit every morning.

Thick floor to ceiling windows on one wall, exposed brick and a menu on another; coupled with the bulbous string lights, numerous plants hanging from the ceiling and perched on shelves with the occasional vintage record. 

There were unspoken sections inside; couches and low tables for group study sessions, a line of comfy booths along the back for brunches and dates, a few tables with mismatched wooden chairs for those who’d rather spend some time alone. It was always clean and well kept, and during Christmas, it smelled of nutmeg.

Depending on which barista had their phone connected to the speakers, the shop was either playing Spotify’s Chill Lofi Study Beats or smooth jazz, both welcomed by the regulars that filtered in day-to-day.

You hear the last drop of the bagel slicer when your phone buzzes faintly. Milo: We should go for breakfast one morning. When are you free? :)  That message alone was enough for you to stuff your phone into your bag. Jesus Christ.

You watch the man’s scuffled loafers as he makes his way out, the arm free from two large boxes lifting to wish his barista a good night. Speaking of, he’s got a welcoming grin on his face when you step to the counter. There was no doubt he was recalling your odd entrance.

“Hello.”

His eyes are bright, they remind you of a dewy morning in a garden - and you wish you were in the right state of mind to watch him the way he was watching you. “Hi, um”, your eyes fly up to the menu as if you weren’t sure of exactly what you were getting. “Are you still selling those bottled fruit drinks? I usually get them in the morning.”

“The Pressed ones? Got a few in the back but I’ll grab one for you. What flavor?” You take a second to inwardly scold yourself for focusing too hard on the way he’d flavor, there was no second-guessing on whether he had an accent or not from moments ago.

“Blackberry,” you say, sending a small smile.

He taps at the screen of the POS, his lips tucked into his mouth as you reach into your bag for your wallet.

Not there. No. Not that pocket either.

You frown.

“So, a blackberry Pressed, anything else?”

Your head is nearly inside of your purse as you move your belongings around, cautious of smearing Crayola paint anywhere. “Please, a blueberry um...”, you flip the apron to stick out a bit and allow you more room to see, careful not to squeeze it too hard, “bagel?”

A beat of silence.

“You sure?”

Your head snaps back up to find the barista- Harry, his name tag reads, it suits him -smiling at you, teasing.

You laugh at yourself a bit before buttoning your bag closed. Your wallet was nowhere to be found; which would frighten you if you hadn’t already left it in the classroom twice this week. “Yes-. Yeah, sorry my brain is like, fried from studying.”

“No, yeah totally get it,” he says. Tot-ally.

You find yourself contemplating on whether you should tell him to completely scrap your order or give in and finally figure out how ApplePay works. He scratches at his chin. “Erm.. cream cheese?”

You have some at home. “No, thank you.”

He nods and you take a glance at the tiny hoop earring that catches in the overhead light as he does. You’re just about to resume digging in your bag to check one more time, when he surprises you by saying something that isn’t your total. “What are you majoring in?”

You readjust. “Education. I want to teach 3rd grade.”

“Do you?” His smile is wide and you notice the dimples that sink into his cheeks. Because of course, the guy has dimples.

His genuine happiness takes you by surprise and you laugh. “Yeah, I graduate this year. Well- hopefully. Still have to pass my finals.”

He’s still tapping at the POS- definitely taking much longer than normal, but you don’t mind. Thankfully you had nowhere to be for once.

“M’sure you’ll do great.” You smile, despite the fact that his eyes were still on the screen in front of him. “I um, I graduated just last year,” he looks up to see your eyebrows rise in question. “Film.”

“Film?” you repeat. “I.. Honestly, I can see that.” The earring, the eyes, his style. It made sense.

Tap. Tap. You catch the price going down.

“That because I’m working at a coffee shop?”

“That- What? No, no. I-“

He lets out a boyish giggle and shakes his head. “Only joking. That was a bit of a dig to us film majors, hm?”

“A little. It just makes sense,” you continue. “You look like a film major.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a compliment,” you say, and his lips twist to fight a smile.

“I’ll take it,” he says, slipping a glove onto his left hand. Your eyes immediately take notice of the cross etched next to his thumb. “Total comes out to $3.21. I’ll go grab your-“

“You didn’t have to do that.” You’ve ordered this countless times, and though Anne let you have your things for free when no one else was around, it’s always come out to $6.78.

Harry only frowns, shaking his head. Don’t worry about it. “I’ll go grab your drink.”

“Sure. Thank you.”

The second he disappeared into the kitchen  you’ve seen so little of, you quickly lift your wrist to try and figure out how this stupid watch worked.

You told yourself to test this out at some point, but you just haven’t had the time. The pad of your figure taps and swipes against the tiny screen, nothing screaming pay with me!

Not that app.

Not that one either.

Had you even set it up?

You hear the door smack lightly against the wall. “Alright here’s- oh,” Harry stumbles upon return, eyebrows drawn together. “Did the card not work? There’s a chip at the bottom-“

“No, I was- I left my wallet at work and I’m trying to..” You point at the card reader. “Does this have Apple Pay?”

His eyes flicker between your watch and the reader before nodding. “Yeah, you’ve just got to..” he leans over the counter a bit and his hand hovers over yours. “May I?”

With confirmation, his nimble fingers press lightly into the inside of your wrist, tilting it toward the reader. His touch is soft- he’s excessively gentle despite only adjusting your hand. He moves his thumb to double click a button on the side of your device, the palm of his hand brushing the side of yours.

The both of you look up at one another, eyes meeting in much closer proximity than any time tonight.

You can’t possibly pick up a guy at a coffee shop. Right?

Ding!

You look down at your wrist that’s still in his hold, your tiny screen now displaying a successful checkmark.

He swiftly pulls his hand away, the gloved one quickly grabbing your bagel as the other grabbed a waxed baggie. “Sorry-“

“No, thank you.” You can’t help but let out a clumsy laugh at the moment the two of you just shared. Silly, you think to yourself.

“To go, yeah?”

“Please.”

He smiles, eyes focused on the screen before the printer hums to life and begins to spit out your receipt.

You watch as he works the bagel slicer and toaster without conscious thought, large hand pulling off his glove before taping the flimsy paper to the front of the bag. He’s sliding your items over to you to grab when you speak once more.

“And thank you again, for the discount.”

He only shakes his head, lips turning down into a funny looking frown. “Don’t worry about it, really. Good luck on finals.”

You smile gratefully, managing to hold your juice and bagel in one hand as you make your way back over to the door. “Thank you! Have a good night.”

“Bye, love you—“ He practically chokes on his own spit, turning quickly to cough steadily into the crook of his elbow.

You were halfway out of the door when you heard him, and now you stare, amused as the cold wind nips at the left side of your face. “Love me?”

“I-“ His nose crinkles, and he coughs one last time. “Sorry, I-“ You watch as he visibly relaxes once his focus is back on you and not on trying to breathe correctly. 

Your head is tilted to the side, an obvious glint in your eye.

He lets out a breathy laugh before trying to continue. “I don’t-” Your eyebrows rise as he stumbles. “- love you. I just- I say it to friends a lot and I guess it… slipped? I don’t know-“

“I’m teasing.” You call out over the wind that blows through as you push the door open wider. You can’t help but laugh to yourself as you move to leave. “Don’t worry. Bye, Harry.”

[127-mile]

Lonely hearts club.

Pairing: Sicheng x gender neutral reader.

Genre: College!au, strangers to lovers | Fluff, humor.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption.

Plot: Johnny decided to throw a Valentine's day party for him and his single friends. Guests must draw a name from a bowl to be paired with for the duration of the party. Sicheng picked your name.

Prompt: “We should do this again.”

Word count: +2.3k.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s day, guys. This is part of the “Candy hearts collab”. The collab’s masterlist is in my main masterlist, go read the other writers’ works.

"Welcome to the Lonely hearts club," Johnny begins to say, hands on his hips. "if we are here today, it is because we all are single on this special day. So instead of getting drunk on our own, I decided to make a little game out of this party." from the makeshift bar, he takes a bowl filled with little pieces of paper. "You will all draw a name from this bowl, and will be paired with this person for the duration of the party."

"Is that why you asked me to write everyone's names instead of studying earlier?" you ask, and Johnny nods, lips curling into a smile. You watch as a few guests get up to leave, but Johnny shakes something in front of them. The key of the house. "I am not giving you a choice. The only way for you to leave is through the windows, but it will probably startle the alarms, so except if you want to spend the night in jail, you should come and pick a name."

Johnny thought of everything, and you are not surprised.

"Are you going to draw a name, or are you going to watch and laugh at us?" you ask the host of the party, and he nibbles on his lower lip. "I'm not watching you all fall in love while crying over my sad and pathetic romantic life." he is always so dramatic.

You take a step back when the guests come to pick up a piece of paper, and you grab a cup to fill it with vodka. Maybe if you are drunk enough, the person with whom you'll have to be paired will leave and let you enjoy the rest of the night.

"Are you here to force me into the living room, or to hide from Johnny and his crazy idea?" you hear when you head to the kitchen where you know you will be safe, but you are not alone. Your eyes meet the ones of a young man, blond hair, and soft brown eyes. "I am hiding, do not worry."

"Then you are allowed to stay."

You roll your eyes, and you sit on the kitchen counter. You listen to the names being called, the laughs that follow, and even the sound of the bowl falling and breaking when Johnny's name is being shouted by someone. "We are going to be here for awhile, so might as well make the most of it. I'm Sicheng."

You were not expecting the stranger to talk, but you are not mad about it. He has a nice voice, even muffled by the hubbub coming from the living room. "I'm Y/n, nice to meet you Sicheng. Are you friends with Johnny, or Jaehyun?" you ask, and he takes a sip from his bottle of beer.

"I am unfortunately friends with both of them." oh, that must hurts, you think. "I'm truly sorry that you have to put up with both of them." you say in a comforting voice, and it makes Sicheng laugh. Oh, this is a really pretty sound. "I hope you'll find better friends after this party. I'm not offering my help, as I am friends with Johnny."

"Y/n! It's your turn!" oh fuck.

You get down from the counter, and you crouch behind the kitchen island which was a great idea, because Johnny enters the room immediately. "Win, have you seen Y/n?" you turn your head towards the young man, and you put you index finger against your lips, and he just shrugs. "I have no idea who Y/n even is."

Johnny heaves a sigh, but he does not leave the room. "Alright, then it's your turn Sicheng." Sicheng's eyes widen, he really thought he would be safe in this room, but turns out, nowhere is safe when Johnny has an idea. "Do I have to?" Johnny scoffs. "Yes. Don't make me pick a name for you."

Sicheng glares at you, and he leaves the kitchen. The guests are scattered around the living room and the garden, so Johnny and Jaehyun's eyes are the only one he feels on his back as he picks a piece of paper from the floor. The bowl is effectively broken, and no one bothered to clean.

He laughs when he reads the name on the paper, and he turns it towards the two boys. "Y/n! Come out, your party buddy is waiting for you."

A party buddy? What the fuck is a party buddy? You stay hidden, but then another voice is heard, and you have no choice but to straighten up. "Y/n, we can hide in the kitchen some more if you want."

You rest your shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed against your chest. "Did you cheat?" you ask when you see your name written on the piece of paper in between his fingers, and he shakes his head. "I would never! Fate is just funny like that."

"You two already know each other? That's cool! Go now, have fun, get drunk, don't throw up on the couch, and don't fuck in my parents' bed." Johnny says before disappearing in the garden with Jaehyun by his side. "We needs new friends." you mutter, and Sicheng agrees.

Without a word, you go back to the kitchen and you sit back down on the counter. "Do you think we did something terrible in our past lives to have them as friends?" you wonder out loud, and Sicheng just sighs. "Or we did something so great that they decided to slap us with some humility by giving us these friends."

He sure is right.

The first hour goes by quickly, and smoothly.

Sicheng talks about his studies, and his dream of opening a dance studio in town, and you talk about your own projects. The advantage of being in the kitchen is that no one is bothering you. Sometimes Johnny comes in to grab beers from the fridge, but he leaves right away.

"Should we go and visit Johnny's room?" Sicheng suddenly asks, and you smile. "I thought you would never ask."

You were not planning on spending an entire night with the same person, so you take what you can get to be a little bit more entertain. Not that Sicheng is boring, far from that, but the atmosphere is not the one of a Valentine's Day party. It is quite the opposite. The guests are awkward with each other, so they drink cup after cup of alcohol, and even inhebriated, it does not help them get the stick out of their asses.

Tomorrow morning is going to be a mess, you know it. You also know that Johnny is going to regret his decision of having this kind of party.

"Do you know which bedroom it is?" Sicheng asks as you walk through the corridor of the first floor. "I'm pretty sure this is this one." you say, poiting at a door with Johnny's name painted on it. "Oh, he is that kind of loser then."

"It's his childhood's bedroom, don't be so mean." you whisper, but in a way, he is right. Johnny is kind of a loser.

Unlike the other doors, this one is not unlocked. "He is making it too easy." you step inside the bedroom, and as expected, it looks really childish. The wallpaper is blue with cars on it, the bed is way too small for Johnny's long legs and plushies are all around the room, which is not too different from his actual bedroom.

"Look!" you join Sicheng in front of a whill covered with photos of Johnny's growth into adulthood. You take your phone out, and you snap a few pictures of the photos, and when Sicheng looks at you, you just shrug. "I need blackmail material for the next time he tries to pull a stunt like this."

You sit on the edge of the bed, and you look up. "Oh no, that's disgusting." you mutter as you see yourself on the mirror glue to the ceiling. "Does a kid really need a mirror on the ceiling? Ew!"

"I'm pretty sure he got it installed when his parents started traveling. For his conquests, I guess." Sicheng explains, and that makes sense, but that's still disgusting. Fucking someone in his childhood's bedroom, in a child's bed. The thing is, you are not even surprised.

"Do you think Johnny was serious when he talked about the alarms going off if we try to open a window?" you shrug, and you watch as Sicheng gets up to walk to the window. "We should try."

You open your eyes wide. "Do you really want to finish the night in jail? Johnny is stupid enough to tell the cops that we actually tried to break in the house while he was having a party." especially if he is drunk.

"We won't if we run fast enough."

Sicheng has something in his voice, something that prompts you on your feet and behind him. "Except if we die from the gall." you say in a low voice close to his ear and you see the skin of his arm break into goosebumps. "You are right. We should try from downstairs' bathroom."

"I have to get my things back anyway." together, you leave Johnny's bedroom and when you both have your jackets and bags, Sicheng locks the door behind you. "Isn't it a bit too mean to lock the door?" Sicheng looks back and he decides to unlock the door. He wants to piss off Johnny, but he does not want the guests to trash his house with vomit.

"Are you ready?" he asks, and you nod.

When he opens the window, nothing happens at first. And after a couple of seconds, an alarm echoes in the house. "Why can't they just have those silent alarm with a notification on their phone, it'd be way more discreet."

"Sicheng, get out of the bathroom, we don't have time!" he shakes his head with vigor and he slings a leg on the other side of the window and he gets out of the bathroom, face immediately whipped by the cold wind. You do the same, and he helps you to avoid you from tripping.

You hear screams inside the house, and you try not to imagine Johnny's face when he understands that someone actually opened a window to leave. "We are so dead." you say before running.

Sicheng runs and laughs at the same time, and hearing him laugh is enough to make you laugh too. His laugh is addicting, just like his presence, and you are glad Johnny did this. If you had not had to hide in the kitchen, you would not have met Sicheng, and that would have been a shame.

After a few minutes of intense run, Sicheng grabds your wrist and pushes you into a dark alley. "I think we're far enough." he says in a sigh, and you nod. You are breathless, hands on your knees, you break into a fit of giggles despite the burn in your lungs. "We are the worst friends ever." you breath out.

"They are the worst, we did what we had to do." he answers, and he is right. You freeze when you hear your phone rings in the pocket of your jacket. You take it out, and you bite the inside of your cheek when you see Johnny's picture on the screen.

"Johnny, why are you calling me, we are in the same house!" you exclaim in faux surprise, and Sicheng puts a hand on his mouth to muffle a laugh. "My hearing is pretty good, so yes, I definitely heard the alarm. But that does not answer my question, why are you calling me?" you nod, even though Johnny can't see it.

"Sicheng and I are in the house, we are watching you right now, you can't see us?" he is going to hate you both, and you are ready, really. "How many drinks did you have tonight? Because we are waving at you right now! Just turn around!" Johnny starts to mumble about the alcohol he has in his cup, so you take the opportunity to hang up.

"Did he believe you?" Sicheng asks, and you shrug. "I don't know, but what I know is that he thinks he is more drunk than he actually is, which is a good thing." Sicheng threads his fingers through his hair, and he inhales deeply.

"I'm starving, do you want to go eat something?"

And that's how you find yourself sitting in the booth of a fast food, in the middle of the night. "I thought this place would be empty tonight." you say, looking around.

A few couples are here, sharing fries and sodas, some people are alone, either enjoying a night light every other nights, a boy is even crying in the corner. "Poor boy probably got dumped."

"I would dump him with this haircut too." Sicheng grumbles, mouth full of fries, and you roll your eyes. Johnny has been texting you for the past twenty minutes, wondering why he can't find you, and every time the screen lights up, you chuckle. Poor boy.

"Well, all in all, that was a pretty nice party." you state, and the young man nods. "I think so too."

"We should do this again." he adds right away, and you tilt your head to the side. "Bothering Johnny?" Sicheng laughs softly, but he shakes his head. "No. This. Together. You know, like a date?" his cheeks take on a soft pink hue, and you can't help but smile. "I'd love that."

Tonight was your last night as part of the Lonely Hearts Club, and that's thanks to Johnny and his crazy ideas.

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

Hey! I don't know what kind of prompts you write but as I'm now officially a grumpy old woman, please could you write something about a grumpy Bobby? Thank you! x

Happy birthday friend!!! Have some grumpy Bobby, featuring Luke is an Insensitive Dumbass Sometimes, @latinposeidon ‘s JatP timeline that makes Luke a Pisces, and some angst you didn’t necessarily ask for. I hope you like it! This technically takes place in my All Too Well verse cause it vaguely references my Bobby tragic backstory, but you don’t have to have read that to understand this.

--

It takes Luke longer than he’s proud of to realize something’s up with Bobby.

In his defense, Luke’s been a little distracted lately. Tomorrow’s his seventeenth birthday—his first birthday since he left home—and it’s all he’s been able to talk about for weeks now: what he’s gonna do and what he’s gonna eat and (perhaps most importantly) what he’s gonna play (because Bobby is actually the coolest friend and rhythm guitarist ever and somehow managed to get Sunset Curve a gig at this awesome club down by the beach on Luke’s birthday and Luke almost kissed him he was so excited).

Luke’s pretty sure his friends are a little sick of him by now, or at the very least sick of how much he’s been talking about his birthday, but he just can’t stop, for all the same reasons why none of his bandmates verbally call him out on it: it’s his first birthday since he left home, his first birthday without his mom to make his favorite chocolate cake or his dad to gift him cassette tapes he thought Luke might like (meaning they’re terribly out of style), and if Luke doesn’t force himself to be excited about it every minute of every day until it’s over, he’s going to have a complete and total breakdown, so yeah, he’s not gonna shut up until the day after tomorrow, but he’s also not gonna cry, so his friends are just gonna have to deal with it.

(And actually, now that Luke thinks about it, that might be why Bobby got them this gig in the first place. Nothing can distract Luke from his problems like music can. So, yeah, reiterating: best friend and bandmate ever.)

But for now, Luke’s birthday and their next epic gig are still a day away, and Sunset Curve is supposed to be rehearsing, but mostly they’ve just been playing the same song on repeat for an hour because something isn’t working, and it takes Luke way too long to realize it’s Bobby.

“Bro, are you sure you’re tuned right? Something’s off.”

Bobby takes a little too long to react to Luke’s words, his fingers continuing to fumble on his guitar strings after the rest of them have all stopped playing. Finally, he looks up, and Luke is taken aback by how lifeless Bobby’s eyes look, bereft of any of their usual spark.

“Bobby?” Luke prompts when all Bobby does is blink at him. “Focus, dude. Rehearsal? Gig tomorrow? Any of this ringing a bell?”

Bobby scowls—that’s more like it—and tugs forcibly at the tuning pegs of his guitar, grumbling under his breath.

“Thank you,” Luke sighs, shooting Reggie and Alex an exasperated look. Neither of them return it, too busy frowning worriedly at Bobby, but Luke ignores that in favor of lifting his guitar again. “Come on, guys, once more from the top. Count us in, Alex.”

They barely make it through half the song, though, before Luke’s stopping them again, waving a hand and huffing in frustration.

“It’s not the music,” Reggie pipes up before Luke can say anything. “It’s the energy.”

Luke snaps his fingers. “Yes, thank you, Reg. That’s exactly what it is. Bobby! Where’s the energy, man? Wake up! What, do you need some coffee or something?”

“Yeah, or some new friends,” Bobby snaps, and before Luke has been sufficiently slapped in the face by that, Bobby’s got his guitar off and in its stand and he stomps out of the studio, slamming the door behind him with a resounding thud.

Luke, Alex, and Reggie all collectively flinch.

There are a few moments of awkward silence, and then Luke says, “I realize I may have been a bit mean there…”

“Yeah, man, you think?” Reggie says.

“Okay,” Alex sighs. “Go talk to him!”

“Yep, right, on it.” Luke abandons his own guitar and hurries out of the studio.

He doesn’t have to go far. Bobby’s sitting on the little rocky wall next to the driveway, legs hanging down, head in his hands. Luke thinks he might be crying. Or shaking. Luke pauses a few feet away, trying not to show how uncomfortable he feels, and says gently, “Bobby?”

Bobby slowly raises his head, regarding Luke with a dark but hard to read expression. Not crying, Luke’s relieved to see, but the hand that reaches up to shove Bobby’s hair out of his eyes is trembling just enough to be noticeable. Luke frowns, his stomach twisting in concern. He slowly approaches and hops up to sit on the wall next to him.

“Hey, Luke,” Bobby grunts, looking down at his shoes. “Sorry—for sucking today, and for snapping at you. I didn’t—” He shakes his head, frustrated. “I’m just having a weird day, man, I’m—”

“Grumpy?” Luke supplies.

Bobby glares at him, but there’s no heat to it, and a hint of a smirk tugs at his lips. “Tired,” he corrects, rubbing at his forehead with that same shaky hand.

Luke’s concern only grows. He scoots a little closer so that his hip just presses against Bobby’s. “Are you okay? Did you not sleep well last night?”

Bobby lets out a bitter chuckle. “Last night, the night before, have I ever slept well? All good questions. Answer’s always no.”

“Bobby,” Luke murmurs sympathetically. “I’m sorry, man.” He doesn’t know how he’s never noticed, in all his days spent hanging off of Bobby like an extra limb, or all his nights spent climbing through Bobby’s window when he can’t sleep (and really, how did Luke never wonder why Bobby always seemed so ready to meet him at the window, no matter what time it was, always looked so tired and yet wide awake whenever Luke needed him?). Luke feels stupid all of a sudden—stupid and selfish. He nudges his shoulder against Bobby’s, says, “And, hey, man, I’m sorry for being an asshole in there, I was just excited. But it was selfish, and I shouldn’t have been so hard on you.”

Bobby shakes his head, won’t look at him. “Not your fault. Gig tomorrow’s important, I know that.”

“Yeah, but it’s just a gig. There’ll be others. And I know we’re gonna rock it no matter what, so I really need to chill out. I just—you know how it is, man. Tomorrow’s my birthday and—”

“And today’s mine.”

Luke freezes, choking on whatever he’d been about to say next. He stares at Bobby, thinking maybe he misheard him, but Bobby’s got his head ducked toward his lap, and the tips of his ears are turning pink, and he doesn’t correct himself, just lets the words hang there in the air between them until Luke catches up enough to process them.

“Today is your—?” Luke finally sputters, but even just that one question he can’t complete.

“Yeah,” Bobby rasps. “I was held back a year? In middle school. So I’m eighteen. My eighteenth birthday… First one without—”

“Right,” Luke huffs, so that Bobby doesn’t have to say it. “Man, why didn’t you say anything? We could’ve—”

“What?” Bobby cuts him off, finally meeting Luke’s gaze. “We could’ve what, Luke? Celebrated? My parents aren’t even here to celebrate, man. They went to Maui for the weekend. On my eighteenth birthday. Without me.”

Luke winces. “Bobby, I’m—”

“Don’t apologize.” Bobby shakes his head, looks up at the sky for a moment and then back at Luke. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to take the attention off of you when you so clearly needed it.”

It takes Luke a second to realize Bobby’s messing with him. When it hits, he laughs, and bumps his shoulder against Bobby’s again, and then hops off the wall. “Come on, birthday boy! Let’s play through the song one more time, and then the guys and I will let you take a nap while we go pick up some cake!”

Bobby’s smile is fondly exasperated, and barely there, as he rolls his eyes and takes Luke’s proffered hand to help him off the wall, but at least it stays painted lightly on his face the whole rest of the day.

--

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @nickalicious @reggiescrookedteeth @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @spidergirl0325 @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @cest-la-vie-de-la-lee @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @moreflowersthanweeds @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @shellydominique 

[twomoonstwosuns]

the interview.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part · next part

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warning: smut (18+), swearing, fluff

word count: 4.7k

a/n: guys I'm so sad, this is it before the epilogue. I have many thoughts and feelings that I'll put in a different post but this would not be what it’s become without you so THANK YOU!

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“Hey Poe, it’s me. I just got out of my interview. I think it went well, but…I don’t know. We’ll see. I think I rambled a little bit. Anyway, you’re probably going into your interview now so good luck, I love you, you’re going to do great, and I can’t wait to hear all about it tonight. Love you, bye.”

Tucking your phone back into your bag, you walked along the boardwalk towards the café you were meeting Finn at for lunch. He had texted you saying he got stuck in some traffic and would be a few minutes late. You decided to wait for him outside, the view of the ocean sparkling in the bright sun too enticing to not stop and admire for a bit. 

The interview, at least, hadn’t been a disaster. The job was an entry level position at a small public relations firm looking to expand it’s teams. It was nerve-wracking at first at the beginning, but as you learned more about the company and got into comfortable conversation with your interviewer, you felt more confident. There were a few questions you answered that you felt nerves got the better of you, like four years of knowledge just flew right out the window, and you talked in sentences you weren’t even sure were complete. But the woman interviewing you didn’t say anything and at times seemed almost charmed by it. You could only hope. 

As you stood against the wooden fence separating the edge of the boardwalk from a large span of grass, a part of you could see yourself moving to Los Angeles, enjoying the sun everyday and taking weekly trips to Venice or Santa Monica to spend the day by the beach. It was incredibly tempting. 

But you’d be alone, your friends, family, and boyfriend a thousand miles away. You didn’t know if you could enjoy it without any of them there. 

Sunglasses perched on your reddening nose, the gentle ocean breeze moved your curled hair around your face. He sound of the waves was calming, putting you so far into a daze that you didn’t even hear the footsteps approaching you. 

“I promise, if you move here that view will never get old.”

Finn stood behind you, hands in his pockets as he looked at the ocean. He smiled when you jumped at the sound of his voice bringing you out of your calming trance. He took a step towards you and hugged you tightly, lifting you up off the ground. 

“How are you, nugget?”

“I’m good! I miss you. How are you?”

“Also good. Hungry.”

“Come on, let’s go eat then.”

Finn set you down and you followed him into the café, taking a peek at the menu before ordering and bringing a number plaque over to a table. 

“So, congrats on graduating! You’re a real life working adult now. Or, you will be.”

You gave him an uncertain smile. “Thanks…I’m terrified. I’ve had one job interview and I’m ready to marry rich and jet across the world as a trophy wife.”

Finn chuckled. “You’ll be fine. How’d the job interview go?”

“Okay, I think…they said they’d call me within a day or so if they want me to do a second interview. They’re interviewing a few other people so I might not hear anything until tomorrow or even Monday.”

“I think they call you.”

“You’re just biased,” you teased and Finn smirked and shrugged. 

“Maybe a little.” He sent you a wink and you giggled, his tone teasing but the vote of confidence greatly appreciated nonetheless. The waiter came by with the food, sandwiches for both of you, and set them in front of you. 

“So what’s new with you? I’ve barely talked to you the last few weeks…finals and all…”

“Well, I’ve been seeing a girl who lives up here.”

“Really?” You smiled. “Tell me about her.”

“Her name is Paige, I’ve been seeing her about four and a half months now…”

“Since January?” He nodded. “Poe didn’t mention you were seeing anyone…”

“He doesn’t know. I really, really like her and things have been moving kind of fast and I didn’t want to jinx it.”

“Moving fast isn’t a bad thing…hello, I met Kes after a month of dating and told Poe I loved him after two and a half months.”

“And he knew he loved you when Rey and I met you.”

“See? Poe and I are the king and queen moving fast and look at us! We’re happy!” Finn chuckled. “So, tell me more about her. What’s she like?”

Finn smiled and shook his head. “She’s amazing and beautiful and funny…she went to school for business and accounting but found it boring, so she’s worked tons of odd jobs…like, she worked at Disneyland for a bit, she’s an artist and she’s had her paintings featured in a couple galleries around SoCal…currently she works part time at a bar in Santa Monica and she’s an L.A. tour guide on the weekends.”

You quietly squealed. “Look at that smile on your face! You really like her!”

Finn nodded slowly and took his bottom lip and tucked it under his teeth.

“Can you keep a secret?”

You nodded and Finn grabbed his wallet from his pocket. He pulled out a picture and set it in front of you. The blur of black, grey, and white gave way to a very obvious shape in the middle of the picture. 

“Finn!” You gasped, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. The smile on his face was so wide you were sure it would split his face in half. 

“Ten weeks. Well, she’s twelve weeks now. We wanted to wait until the three month mark to start telling people.” You looked up at him, eyes wide. He looked at the sonogram adoringly. “It was a complete accident, so hopefully she likes me enough to put up with me for the rest of our lives.”

Your eyes watered and you smiled widely. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks, nugget. I’m so…fuck, I’m so excited. Granted, this isn’t the way I wanted to do this…I imagine I’d be married first…”

You smiled softly. “As long as that baby is loved, which I have no doubt that he or she will, then who cares how it happened.”

Finn nodded and grabbed the picture, smiling at it once more before putting it back into his wallet. 

“You’re going to be an amazing dad, Finn,” you said softly, placing your hand on his arm. “And I can’t wait to meet your girlfriend.”

“We’re coming up fourth of July weekend. Poe, Rey, and I rent a cabin on the lake and we spend the long weekend there. You’ll probably be coming so you can meet her then.” You nodded happily, already excited for something happening a month and a half away.

“So, when are you and Poe having kids?” You threw your head back and laughed loudly. “What?! You said you guys move fast!”

You threw one of your chips at him and it bounced off of his chest and onto the floor. 

“Yeah, not that fast! I just finished school, I’m not ready to have a baby!”

“But by Christmas, right?” 

You giggled and threw another chip at him, which he caught and popped into his mouth. Your phone buzzed on the table and you saw an unfamiliar number flashing on your screen. Finn looked at it and raised his eyebrows. 

“That’s an L.A. area code.”

You swallowed hard and answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, I’m looking for Y/N L/N.”

“Yes, this is…” you said nervously. Finn looked at you with interest.

“Y/N, this is Jyn Erso with Erso PR.”

“Oh, hi…” Finn mouthed ‘who is it?’ at you and you held a finger up. The woman on the other end chuckled warmly. 

“I can tell you’re a little surprised I’m calling you right now.”

“Yeah, a little…I just left a little under two hours ago.”

“Well, I took a closer look at your resume and some of the work in your portfolio and, with your interview earlier today, I wanted to call and offer you the job.”

Your eyes widened and you stumbled over your words. “Wha—wait, really?”

“I know we said we’d call you to set up a second interview but I was very impressed with you today and I think you’d make a great addition to our team.”

“Wow, um…thank you!” You looked at Finn and bit your lip. “Can I…could I think about it?”

“Of course you can. I know you’re coming from quite a ways away and have a lot of factors to consider, so please take a few days to think about it. The number I’m calling from is my office number, please feel free to call it if you have any questions.”

“I will. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Have a good day and a safe flight home.”

You hung up the call and looked at Finn, your face showing a disbelieving smile. 

“I got the job.”

“Damn, congratulations!” You didn’t, couldn’t, say anything. You were still in a little bit of shock from receiving that phone call. “Or not…?”

“I….I don’t know! I wasn’t expecting this!” You sat back in your chair, crossing your arms in front of you and looking at Finn. “What do I do?”

“Well, you obviously didn’t say yes…did they say you could think about it?” You nodded. “Then you think about it.”

You sighed. “This job…there’s so many opportunities for growth. It’s the kind of job that could kickstart by career. Honestly, I’d be stupid not to take it.”

“But there’s a lot of factors you have to consider.”

“Exactly…I don’t know what to do.” You looked up at Finn. “What do I do?”

Finn sighed and finished off his sandwich, wiping his hands and tossing the napkin in the basket. 

“I wish I could tell you to just take it, but it’s not that easy.”

You exhaled sharply and ran a hand through your hair. 

“No, it’s not.”

》 》 》

The job offer was in the back of your mind the rest of your lunch with Finn and didn’t fully sink in until you were on your way to the airport. You spent the two and a half hour plane ride going through every pro you could think of: the job itself, working and building your career, a new city with lots of opportunities, and sunshine and warmth everyday. But there were also the cons: moving expenses, finding an apartment you could actually afford that was close to work, and navigating a new city. Not to mention your friends and family would be a thousand miles away. 

Poe would be a thousand miles away. 

You walked off the plane and drove home still undecided. Even the drive home couldn’t help you come to a decision. You were much too excited to see Poe and hear about his interview. He had texted you when you landed that he was finishing up with dinner and insisted on waiting for you to get there to eat, but you encouraged him to go ahead without you. Your stomach felt twisted with nerves and there was no room for food at that moment. 

You walked into Poe’s apartment and was immediately greeted by Beebs. The smell of garlic and other spices was intoxicating and you followed it to the kitchen where Poe was dishing it up into containers for you to eat later. 

“Hey!” He looked up at the sound of your footsteps, walking over and pecking your lips quickly before putting the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. “How as your flight?”

“Good,” you said, dropping your stuff and taking off your shoes. “Little turbulent, but fine.”

Poe smiled and came around the counter, leaning against it and crossing his arms. You could hardly contain the smile on your face.

“So?”

Poe smiled widely. “I got the job.”

“You got it?!” You exclaimed. “I’m so proud of you!”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe it…I’ve been pinching myself making sure it was real all day. After all the sabotage from Hux and our secret relationship, Leia really stuck her neck out for me to get this job.” You smiled proudly. “This is just…the best fucking day.”

The smile on his face reached his eyes, which shone brightly with pure happiness. “I’m so, so happy for you, Poe. You deserve this. You’re an amazing teacher and you’re going to make an amazing head of the department. Your department.”

“I haven’t accepted the job yet. I wanted to talk to you about it, especially because you just had a job interview yourself. Which, speaking of, how did it go?”

“I actually got the job too.”

“You did?! Congrats!”

“Thanks…but I’m not going to take it.”

Poe’s smile disappeared. “You’re not?”

You shook your head.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want it.”

“But raved about interviewing for this job. It’s what you’ve been talking about for weeks. You were so excited and now you got it.”

“And you got yours.”

“Babe, I don’t want you to feel like I’m making you choose between me and a job—“

“You’re not,” you stressed, taking a step towards him. “This is my decision. I am choosing you over the job and I’m perfectly okay with it. I’m just starting to job hunt and if I take the first job I’m offered, I can’t build up my interview skills and I won’t know what else is out there. What if I find something better? My gut is telling me this is the right move, so I’m doing it.”

“Have you thought this all the way through? I don’t want you to have any regrets.”

“I have thought about it. I talked to Finn earlier at lunch after they called me and did nothing but think about it while I was waiting for my flight and on the airplane. I was still undecided up until you told me you got your dream job, the one you’ve been talking about for months and months.” You sighed and put your hands on his chest. “You almost sacrificed getting this job to protect me…to protect us. Now you’ve got the job and all I want to be here to hear all about it at the end of the day. And I can’t do that if I’m in California."

Poe gave you a look of uncertainty and you smiled softly. “I love you. So much. We did not fight this hard for our relationship just to do long distance. This is what I truly want.”

Poe nodded and returned your smile. “As long as it’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Silence fell over you for a moment before your delighted squeals pierced the air. Poe had suddenly grabbed your waist, picking you up and spinning you around. Your arms went around his neck and he kissed the spot where your neck met your shoulder before looking at you.

“I got the job.” He smiled and you put your hands on his cheeks.

“You got the damn job.”

You pulled his lips to yours, the two pairs moving passionately together. After months and months of uncertainty and secrecy, things were finally going your way. 

“Do you want to go get a drink to celebrate?”

You smiled suggestively and shook your head. “Maybe tomorrow. Tonight…I want to celebrate with you. Alone. Naked.”

He smirked and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he quickly made his way to his bedroom, his lips connecting with yours once again. He nearly dropped you on the bed in his excitement and you sat up as he got on the bed next to you. You moved to straddle his lap and your kisses grew hotter, the passion just as intense but the desire for each other burning brighter as you ground your hips against his. You grabbed your shirt and brought it up over your head, Poe leaning in and kissing your chest before you could toss it aside. His dark hair was messy from your hands and became more disheveled when you yanked his shirt off. 

He smirked and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he quickly made his way to his bedroom, his lips connecting with yours once again. He nearly dropped you on the bed in his excitement and you sat up as he got on the bed next to you. You moved to straddle his lap and your kisses grew hotter, the passion just as intense but the desire for each other burning brighter as you ground your hips against his. You grabbed your shirt and brought it up over your head, Poe leaning in and kissing your chest before you could toss it aside. His dark hair was messy from your hands and became more disheveled when you yanked his shirt off. 

“You’re sexy,” you said as you ran your hands over his chest. He smirked and reached for the buttons of your dress pants. 

“You’re fucking sexy,” he retorted, dipping his fingers into your underwear and immediately finding your clit. Your mouth opened slightly and he wrapped his arm around your waist and started to lay you down on the bed.

“No, wait!”

Poe froze and you pushed him back to his position on the bed, his eyebrow cocked with curiosity. 

“You want to be on top?”

You smirked mischievously and grabbed his wrist, removing his fingers from your pussy. You brought them to your mouth and gave them a quick suck before moving down his lap and further down the bed, bringing his pants down with you. Kissing his stomach, your fingers dipped under the band of his briefs. He was already hard and you wasted no time removing his briefs and wrapping your hand around him. Poe let out a soft sigh of approval as you pumped him slowly. You swirled your tongue lightly around the tip and Poe let out a sound between a moan and a whimper with a very quiet plea falling from his lips. 

“I’m sorry,” you giggled. “What was that?”

He swallowed hard, his body ringing with want. “Please.”

You smiled up at him and wrapped your lips around him, taking him in your mouth inch by inch. His head fell back against the pillows, closing for just a minute before looking back down at you. He gathered your hair back so it was out of your face, biting his lip and watching your head bob as you sucked him off. A quiet ‘fuck’ left his lips and you released him from your mouth, your hand pumping him quickly and your tongue found the base of his cock. You ran your tongue slowly, teasingly up the length of him before taking him in your mouth again. Your hand and mouth worked in tandem, bringing him closer and closer to the edge each time he watched your cheeks hollow around him. 

But Poe wasn’t ready to be done quite yet.

“G—fuck….get up here.”

You ignored him, sliding your mouth all the way down his length until he touched back of your throat. The groan that came from him came deep from within him and it took all his strength to tug on your hair again instead of giving into the immense pleasure you were giving him and coming too soon. 

“Get up here. Now.”

You let him go with a pop, crawling up into his lap again. “Mmm, bossy. I like it.”

He smirked as you grabbed him again to line him up with your entrance. “Another day, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip and nodded as you sunk down on him slowly, a soft groan leaving your lips as he filled you all the way up. He attached his lips to your neck, his teeth leaving little love bites along your collarbone as you grinded against him. Your hand came back up to his hair, tugging the inky strands at the base of his neck and he quietly moaned at the mix of pain and pleasure. 

“F—ohhh…fuck, baby…” your voice was breathy, a sound Poe could listen to forever. The way you called him ‘baby’, even in the throes of pleasure, tugged on his heartstrings a little bit. One hand splayed across your back, the ends of your hair threading between his fingers. The other hand rested on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as each shot of pleasure hit deep in your stomachs. 

Poe’s lips traveled down to your chest and attached to your breast, sucking small marks onto your skin. A symphony of sounds filled the room: the sound of skin slapping against skin, yours and his moans of pleasure, and his name tumbling past your lips with a slew of expletives. Your hand found his headboard, grabbing it to use as leverage and support as your body was weakened by pleasure.

He kissed up your neck and found your lips once again, his tongue invading your mouth and tangling with yours. You moved faster, your body becoming slick with exertion. You struggled to kiss him back, your quick movements making you nearly gasp for breath. You rode him hard, the both of you chasing the high you wanted so badly. 

You whimpered as you the burn in your belly grew hotter, the mind-blowing orgasm you always got with Poe building. Poe felt the same, having used a great deal of strength to hold off so he could give you the same kind of ecstasy you were giving him. Your body tensed and you clenched around him as his cock found that spot that drove you absolutely wild. 

“Come for me, baby…” Poe’s voice was also breathless but still held the tone of finality, like he was commanding you. The idea alone spurred you on further and his hands helped you slam yourself down onto his cock, your body movements becoming sloppy as you started to lose control. “Come on baby, that’s it.”

His thumb found your clit and he rubbed it quickly, the sudden addition of stimulation making your body twitch and send you over the edge. You came hard, your body shaking in his hands and a loud moan coming from deep within your throat as the iron struck white hot in your lower stomach. He held you still and thrust up into you and your hand shook the headboard, making it loudly knock against the wall. Poe gritted his teeth and his head fell back as he came, spurt after spurt of his release filling you up. You both slowed, the intensity of your orgasms making you fight to catch your breath like you just ran a marathon. Your head fell against his and he presses his lips to whatever part of your face that was closest to him. 

“You…you ride me so well.”

You let out a breathless laugh, allowing Poe to put both arms around you and bring you down on top of him as he laid back against his pillows. He rubbed your back slowly, neither of you bothering to move. His softening cock stayed nestled inside you as the both of you catching your breath in the afterglow.

“You know, I was thinking?” Poe asked after several minutes of comfortable silence. You hummed in acknowledgement. “You should move in with me.”

You looked up at him, your fingers running along the silver chain around his neck. 

“You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“It might be…but I also know this is what I want.”

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering. 

“We went on our first date on Valentine’s Day but we’ve technically been dating since Halloween,” he said, the memories making you smile. “I know it was supposed to be just a one time hookup and then after that just casual sex but it ended up being a lot of talking. We were basically on dates, we just did sex first and got to know each other afterwards. So, in my mind, we’ve been together for about seven and a half months.”

He ran his knuckle across your cheek and you didn’t know if your cheeks were still flushed from sex or  if they were flushing from the way he was looking at you - with pure love and adoration. 

“If it’s too soon for you, it’s okay. I do want to move in with you, but we can wait until you’re ready. Just the fact that you’ll be close by instead of hours and hours and hours away is good for me.”

You took in every word he said. The whole point of your plan to decline the job offer was to be with Poe, and moving in with him would mean being with him all the time. There was a sliver of doubt that crossed your mind, that maybe you’d get annoyed with each other after living together for awhile and learning each other’s daily quirks. 

“What do you see? When you think about us moving in together?”

Poe smiled softly. He knew exactly what kind of house he wanted to move into someday. Since he imagined having a kid or two, he wanted a basement or an extra room to be used as a playroom. He wanted a big backyard with a large deck and fire pit for late summer nights. He’d thought about it plenty, imagined his future home many many times before you, but it became so much more clear to him after you told him you loved him. Poe had been thinking of you moving in since before graduation, but held off saying anything because of your job interview. He didn’t want you to feel pressured if you had gotten the job…like you had to give up the opportunity because you were moving. 

He wanted all that with you, but he wouldn’t sacrifice your future to make his come true.

“Well…” He started, making sure to word things carefully so he wouldn’t scare you with how much he’d thought this through. “For now, we’d find a bigger apartment or a townhouse to rent…somewhere where there’s enough space for all of your things as well as mine…I think we’ve seen enough of the inside of this apartment.” You laughed lightly and nodded. “Maybe find one with an extra room we can turn into an office for us to work in. Eventually I’d like to buy a house, but I think that’s a few years away still.”

Though Poe was sparing you details, you could tell he’d been put a lot of thought into it. You didn’t blame him, he was in his early thirties and wanting to start settling down and building a life. You were still young, twenty-two with all the adventures of your twenties waiting for you…but you couldn’t imagine doing any of them without Poe. Navigating your way into the world post-education was going to be difficult. Nothing is promised. But having a place of your own to come home to with someone you loved, where you could relax and unwind and have that feeling of comfort and safety…you wanted that. 

“That’s just what I’ve been thinking. We certainly don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” His voice brought you back from our own thoughts and you nodded slowly and continued to play with his necklace. 

“You know I was talking to Finn earlier about how we move fast but everything’s worked out pretty good so far.” You shrugged, biting back the wide smile that was threatening to take over your face. “I don’t see why we should stop now.”

A smile slowly spread across Poe’s face. “Really?”

You nodded and sat up a little bit so you were hovering over him. 

“Let’s start looking. See what we find. In the meantime…”

“You’ll move in with me?” He asked hopefully, his eyes lighting up like a kid in a candy store. You smiled widely. 

“I would love to move in.” Poe leaned up and kissed your lips squarely and surely. “I can leave now, start packing…”

“Oh no,” Poe smirked as he wiggled his eyebrows. “You’re not going anywhere. Tonight, we celebrate.”

He rolled you over onto your back, never separating from you and burying his face in your neck and kissing it all over. Your laughter filled the room and you kissed him passionately, the room soon filling with different noises of pure happiness. 

You couldn’t wait to start your future with him. 

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[obxcunt]

Love bites || (4)

pairing: jj maybank x reader [eventually] || rafe cameron x reader [currently]

warnings: cursing, typos.

summary: it was supposed to be a good summer for you, the last one in the obx before going to college, the last one with your friends and family. Unfortunately, a sudden and mysterious death is about to completely change your life, pushing you directly into a brand new world and into a very sexy vampire’s arms.

A/N: thank you so much guys, comments, likes, notes and dms means so much to me i’m glad you are enjoying my story! Love you all.

part three || masterlist || part five

“I can't see you right now, Rafe.” You said, holding the phone. “I— I need to help my mom with something at home.” You lied, glancing at the blond vampire next to you.

“Are you okay?” Rafe asked, concerned by how distant you've been recently. “Is it because of me? Shit, Y/N. I’m sorry if my—”

“Relax, it has nothing to do with you, Rafe.” You cut off, closing your eyes as you sat down on the ground with your guest, head falling back in a sigh. “It's just— It's just complicated for me to be around anyone right now. I need to be alone, but i’ll text you tomorrow, alright?”

He sighed. “Okay, i’ll see you later.”

You both hang up at the same time, guilt still occupying your mind as you threw the phone away. You looked at the horizon, the view from your backyard always calming you down when you need it. The last time you were there: Rafe and you were sharing your first kiss after a party: the heated memory making you smirk. But today you were sitting next to a vampire, discovering a brand new world.

“I don't like lying to people, especially my friends.” You said, breaking the silence, the nature’s noises accompanying your words. “They're also in danger—”

“Trust me, they know way more than you think.” JJ said, looking at the grass, his black-painted fingers wandering through it.

You ignored his sentence, too busy looking at him, examining his normal appearance: tanned skin, muscles, bright blue eyes, nothing seemed different. You weren't expecting vampires to look this good.

“What happened to you?” He briefly glanced at you. “You look so—” You paused shrugging your shoulders. “Human.”

He chuckled. “Remember my birthday party at John B’s, last year?” You hummed, he had invited you for some reason, but you couldn’t make it. “When everyone left, i decided to go home. I don’t know why, but i really wanted to see my dad on my eighteenth birthday.” He paused, a sad smile appearing on his face. “He was really high and drunk, we fought about it.” Your lips parted, guessing his next words. “My dad beat me to death.”

“JJ...” Your voice cracked, tears emerging once again. You couldn’t believe it. Everyone knew his father’s reputation and bad habits, but this was something else. “I— I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry, you deserved so much better.” The blond boy looked at you, giving you a tiny smile. He wanted to wipe away the sad expression you were wearing. “But, how did you—”

“It happened outside, he left my body there.” He said, sniffing and looking at the rings on his fingers, nervously playing with them. “Marcus found me, he smelled my blood from miles away.” He smirked. “He felt extremely sorry as soon as he saw me, he knew my father and quickly understood. He thought i deserved a second chance. So, he saved me.”

“Who’s Marcus?” You asked. “Wait, are you talking about the old drug dealer?” JJ nodded. “He’s a vampire?” You raised your brows. “Wow... I always thought he was strange.”

“Yeah...” JJ continued. “He turned me, right in time.” Your eyes widened, imagining the scene. “It wasn’t easy, especially the first week. Marcus teached me how to survive, to control myself and everything i needed to know.”

“But...” He looked back at you, smirking at your confused face: you looked adorable. It was both surprising and comforting how easy you were to talk to. You were surprised too, feeling strangely good and safe with him. “What about, Luke? He killed himself, right?” You asked, remembering the event from last year. “Was it because of— Or did you?”

“I didn’t kill him.” He cut off, you nodded a bit reassured. “He killed himself a few hours after killing me. He really left the house, drove to Barry’s and shot himself. The cops didn’t even question it, since he had a poor reputation. They looked for me, obviously. I wasn’t in a good shape, dealing with the whole turning thing. Marcus lied to them, by saying that i was sick and they believed it. I think they just wanted to close the case. I’ve been living at John B’s since then.”

“Right.” You nodded, chin resting on your knees as you held your legs against your chest, trying to memorize everything. “Your friends know about you, don’t they?” He laughed. “Of course they do.” You added, feeling stupid for asking. “And, wasn’t it a bit awkward at first?”

“The hardest part was definitely accepting my death and what happened to me. I disappeared for a few days, ignored their calls and texts before telling them everything. I had to learn how to behave in public first, which wasn’t easy for me. I’m still struggling sometimes.” He explained, sighing. “But, since Kiara is a witch—” You chuckled at the irony, you ignored so much things. “They took it pretty well. Pope asked a lot of questions though, he was a bit nervous around me but mostly intrigued.”

You smirked. “I do have many questions as well!” You said with excitement, sitting down properly. “Like, why aren’t you burning right now?” He chuckled, enjoying your reaction to his condition. “We’ve been outside for hours. Also, how do you feed? Do you have powers?”

He sighed, smiling. “Okay, let’s start with this.” He pointed at the ring on his finger. “See this one? Well, Kie made it for me. It protects me from the sun.” You nodded, looking at it attentively. “I don’t feed on humans, but on animals and sometimes we steal blood-bags from the nearest hospital.” He looked at your neck, licking his lips just to tease you. “But, you look delicious.” You rolled your eyes, smiling. “Let me guess, type O?” He teased again, laughing as you smacked his arm. “My favorite...”

“Fuck off, JJ.” He laughed.

“And, we are not in Twilight. I’m far from Edward Cullen, even though we both share the same strength and speed.” You looked at the intriguing boy. “I won’t read your mind. Unfortunately, it’s not on the list.” You smirked, narrowing your eyes at him. “That’s too bad, i’m sure your thoughts are very interesting.”

“What about—” You sighed. “The other one, the vampire who killed my friend.” JJ hummed. “Do you know him?”

“No, that's the problem.” He replied. “And it seems like he's not alone. We think they are from another state, just passing by.” You looked around the garden, wondering if they were around here. “Don't worry, they won't bother anyone during the day. They're not coming out, which means they probably don't know any witches. They're either old school vampires or newborns, who don't care about consequences. They took so much risk by killing Kelce.”

“The police department knows about it, right? They know it's not an animal.” JJ nodded, chuckling. “I knew something was wrong the other day.”

“Vampires used to be a massive problem around here, in the past.” He explained. “That's when the slayers came around and eradicated them. It's a family thing, only touching the sons.” You frowned, rethinking about your conversation with Ward. “We were safe for a while. We are a small group, not messing around and respecting the rules. But, Kelce’s death changed the game.”

“They called the slayers back and now, they're all looking for vampires to kill.” He nodded. “That's not good…”

“Yeah…” He laughed. “Especially since you're dating one of them.” You frowned, jaw dropping. “Ward Cameron comes from one of the most famous families of slayers of all time. Which means that his wonderful son is going to join them anytime soon.”

“Holy shit.” You said, laughing nervously and running a hand through your hair. “The other day, while we were throwing a party for Kelce at their place, i heard a weird conversation he was having on the phone with someone. He was saying a lot of things, but nothing really made sense to me, until now. He seemed really nervous.” JJ wasn't surprised. “Peterkin was also there, she was supposed to meet him.”

“They're obviously preparing something.”

“I’m not dating him, JJ.” You added, annoyed by his comment. “I don't know why you keep—” He chuckled, interrupting you.

“Alright, Y/N.” He said. “You might not be dating him, officially. However, you were still having sex with him that night.” He smirked at the sight of your heated cheeks. “I saw it, while searching for the other vampire. Unfortunately, it was already too late for Kelce. I still managed to save you though when you walked back to the—”

“Wait!” You snapped. “It was you, behind me?”

“Technically, we were both behind you. He was looking at you and clearly enjoying your fear, he wanted to mess with your head. I chased him away while you were calling 911. He wanted to kill you too.” You remained silent, in shock. “I saved your pretty ass two times already, Y/N.” He joked, the hidden compliment making you blush once again.

“So, you can’t read minds?” You asked, wanting to switch subjects. “Or see the future? I thought vampires had more powers.” JJ smiled, standing up and offering you a hand. “What are you doing?” You asked, accepting it and standing up in front of the blond boy.

“I can't read minds or see the future, but—” You looked at him in the eyes and pouted, his heart melting at the sight. “I can do some other things though...” You raised a brow, curious.

In one second: the blond boy disappeared. You turned around, searching for him everywhere. “JJ?” He screamed your name and you looked up, noticing him sitting down on the roof with a playful smirk on his face. “How did you—” He moved again, making you laugh.

You tried to turn around, feeling his presence behind you. “Don't move.” He murmured close to your ear, both hands resting on your hips. “We can sense your blood from miles away.” He murmured, caressing your forearm: making you shiver against his body. “We can also hear your heartbeat from miles away.” His hand slowly moved up to your shoulder. “Even your moans…” He smirked against your ear: a silent moan escaping your lips.

“Stop it!” You whined, turning around to face him and smack his chest while he laughed at you. “Idiot.” He stopped, calming down. “I’m sorry, for calling you crazy earlier.”

He scoffed. “You’re adorable, but you don’t need to apologize. It was a normal reaction.” You nodded, smirking. “Anyway.” He continued. “I need your help. I'm pretty sure Ward is preparing something.” You crossed your arms. “I need to get access to his office, where he’s hiding shit.”

You frowned. “Wait, what?” You both started walking back to the front porch. “But, you're a vampire, you're way more discreet than me.”

“Probably, it seems like you have clumsy tendencies.” You stopped walking, rolling your eyes. “But it's impossible for me to get access to his office, since i'm not allowed to enter their mansion.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, following him. “Are they putting way too much Holy Water on the door handles or something?”

He laughed, gently pushing you. “That's very funny.” You smiled, taking the few stairs leaning to the porch before sitting down on the bench. “Vampires can't enter houses without getting invited in first.”

“Oh.” You said. “What about Sarah Cameron? Aren't you guys friends? And i’m pretty sure you came to a party at their house last year.”

“Kiara doesn’t want her girlfriend to be involved in this for now. And, this was before my death. I don’t think Ward Cameron the slayer wants me on his property anymore.” He said, sitting down next to you. “But, since you’re close to Rafe—”

“Shut up...” You whined, rubbing your face, your reaction making him laugh. “Wait, is this why you don’t want me to invite you inside my house? So, you can’t get any access?” He nodded, looking at his black combat boots. “Why not? I don’t understand.”

“It’s for your own safety.” You sighed. “I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s not in my intentions but—” He paused, clearing his throat. “Anyway, Ward and Rafe can’t know about this, obviously.”

“I won’t say anything to anyone.” You promised. “But i don’t think Rafe knows about any of this, JJ.” You said, trying to rassure him. “Don’t worry.”

“Not yet.” He sighed. “Ward is gonna have to inform him, at some point. Rafe won’t become an actual slayer until he kills a vampire by himself, that’s a part of their ritual.” He explained, visibly worried. “I don’t want my new family and friends to die. We— We need to take care of those vampires before anyone else dies.”

Shit, you thought. You didn’t want to lie to anyone, especially your family and friends but you had to. You also didn’t want to use Rafe but you couldn’t help feeling bad for JJ, who didn’t deserved to suffer either. He already went through enough shit.

JJ didn’t want to force you, he wouldn’t. But there was something about you, something telling him that he could trust you. You both remained silent for a moment, until you had made up your mind.

“Okay, fine.” You said, making him look back at you with a smirk. “I’ll help you, if you promise to not hurt anyone, especially Rafe.” He opened his mouth, ready to object. “He’s still innocent, we might not need to fight. We could do this before he turns into a slayer, okay? He’s still my friend and—”

“Okay, we won’t do anything to your boyfriend.” He cut off, the nickname making you growl. “Unless he starts attacking us first.”

“Don’t call him my boyfriend, or you’ll have to find someone else.” He rolled his eyes playfully. “Alright, what do you need, JJ?” He smirked, knowing you were both about to jump in a risky and exciting adventure together.

A/N: If you guys have any questions regarding the fic, feel free to ask me, requests are open!

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[tumblr won’t let me tag some people, comment if you wanna be add]

[liloelsagranger]

Night shift - Chapter 2 (Rocketshipping)

Chapter 2:

The whip already raised for use, Jessiebelle reared up in front of James, who was cowering on the floor all intimidated. “Where have you been? Do you realize how worried I was?” She swung the whip and gave James a blow. James cried out in pain, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He knew that this little excursion into freedom would have consequences. Today Jessiebelle carried out the punishment with her favourite tool and throttled her fiancé without batting an eye.

“You have to be chastised, otherwise you might get ideas and leave me, and we both don’t want that, right James?”

The young man was trembling with pain. He grabbed his arm with the gaping wound. Sometimes he wanted to die, sometimes he wanted to leave this world, thoughts that had plagued him since he was a child. But the urge to be free and to be able to live his own life had prevented him from doing anything stupid until then and thinking of the waitress Jessie gave him new hope. Another lash!

“Please, Jessiebelle, stop!” he pleaded. “I’ve learned my lesson, I’ll never sneak away again, but please, have mercy!” Tears streamed down his face. Jessiebelle knelt beside her fiancé and gave him a small kiss on the cheek.

“This is the only way you will learn to be obedient and please your future wife. Sometimes you have to take harsher measures to open someone’s eyes to how much love is involved here. I love you, James,” she breathed into his ear. James cried bitter tears. If this is love, what does abysmal hatred feel like?

She left him crouching on the floor, alone in his pain and thick tears of despair. James was breathing heavily, he could barely move, but he had a mission and nothing and no one, certainly not Jessiebelle’s abuse would stop him. With the last of his strength, he tried to get to his feet, left the torture cellar and sank into his pillow, tired and exhausted. Tomorrow night he would see her again, Jessie. He imagined her smile, her sapphire blue eyes, and slipped into a fitful sleep.

The day dragged on endlessly. James counted the hours until he could sneak out through the service exit. When evening came, he waited for the right moment to dismiss the property. The servants covered him, they were on his side and could no longer watch this tragedy of a relationship.

“I hope the wound heals quickly, James. This tincture is a recipe from my grandmother, it is supposed to work wonders. Look how Jessiebelle is ruining you. You are a shadow of your former self.” Maria became quite emotional at the sight of those deep cuts. She had cared for James since he was a little boy every time his parents were traveling the world again. Seeing him like this, abused, beaten and mistreated, broke her heart. James put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about me, Maria. There’s someone worth living for,” he put on a weak smile. “And I really need to see her,” he pressed on the tourniquet and disappeared into the night.

As James walked along the Strip, he noticed the many carnies and performers. Some were painting portraits of the tourists; others were juggling ten balls at once. Others sang and played music and thrilled the guests with little show acts. It wasn’t long before James spotted Ash, who was holding the crowd spellbound with his Pikachu. He had many tricks up his sleeve and his little Pokémon was exceptionally well trained. They were a welded team and impressed the audience with a fantastic interlude consisting of various electric attacks that Pikachu was capable of. The crowd went wild, applauded and cheered. The coins were already jingling, the bills flowing. James wanted to do more than one good deed today and secretly put a hundred-Pokédollar bill in Ash’s hat. With it, he and his friends could enjoy a delicious dinner at the Diner. Ash could hardly believe his eyes when he fished the large bill out of his hat. His mouth was open, never had he received so much tip before. His gaze wandered through the audience and stuck to James.

“Hey! Aren’t you the guy who was at the Diner last night?” he asked him. James nodded his head. “Wow! What happened to your face? Where did you get that black eye?” Ash wondered. Should James tell him a tall tale or come clean with the truth? He didn’t know this boy at all and honestly, he didn’t want to hang his private life on the big bell.

“Work accident,” James replied. Ash nodded his understanding and stowed the big money in his pocket. He had no idea that his sponsor was standing right in front of him.

“Are you coming by today? Fridays are fish day, you’ll miss out on the tastiest salmon and sea food if you don’t show up later.”

That’s when it slipped out of James’ mouth. “Is Jessie having a night shift tonight?” It was so foolish, he felt pretty stupid. What kind of impression did this make on young Ash? The boy grinned maliciously.

“Jessie is at the Diner every single night, trying to keep herself and that place afloat, it takes hard work, but she’s up to any problem. So yeah, she’ll be there. Why?”

James blushed to the roots of his hair. “Oh nothing, she just served me very well.” James shrugged it off, but one question still burned on his mind. “This man, who works with her at the Diner. Is that her boyfriend?” Ash laughed out loud.

“You mean Eddy? He’s ace. All he wants are close and deep friendships, but nothing more. A hug is still in, but not a step further. You don’t have to worry about him but let me give you some good advice. Give Jessie some space and don’t press her. Life wasn’t always easy for her.” Ash packed up his paraphernalia and disappeared down a dark side street.

Late in the evening, James hardly dared to show up at the Diner. He was visibly nervous and couldn’t quite explain to himself why. Of course, he was happy to see Jessie again and to enjoy her first-class service, to feel her warm smile on his skin. On the other hand, he didn’t want her to see him maltreated like that. But when he entered the restaurant, the atmosphere was really tense. He discovered the large bouquet of flowers that he had secretly sent her, but Jessie seemed to be anything but pleased about it. He approached the waitress and overheard snippets of conversation that made him shudder. Turning to Eddy, she showed her best friend the small note James had enclosed. “He’s trying to suck up again, that lousy guy! Signs it with a friggin J. Like I wouldn’t guess it’s that assface of Jack’s who’s supposedly trying to make up with me. Throw this bouquet in the trash can right now, Eddy! Get it out of my sight!” she commanded. This action had gone completely wrong. But how could James have known that Jessie’s ex-boyfriend’s name started with a J, too? He put a hand on her shoulder and Jessie immediately winced. “Oh, it’s you. Sorry, I didn’t see anyone enter de Diner. I’ll come right over and take your order.” She heaved a deep sigh, gave way to her anger, and kicked the trash can with all her might.

James had probably hit the wrong nerve. Now he felt all the more pathetic. He wanted to please Jessie with the bouquet and show his gratitude for the nice service, but this action was a shot in the foot.

The waitress was beside herself when she reached James’ table. Her hair was mussed, she rummaged in her apron for her tiny notebook to write down the incoming orders and could not concentrate on her guests. Something had to have happened, and James was trying to figure out how to help Jessie. It was his turn to ask her about her day. “Miserable, James. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong! But I don’t want to burden you with my stuff, I’m sure you have other things to worry about, judging by your eye…” James’ hand shot up. “I’ll get you cooling pads”, Jessie was overly attentive and James liked that feeling of being cared for by someone. There was no emotion in his relationship with Jessiebelle, except for pain and hatred. There could never be any question of love. It was an arranged engagement, and his parents didn’t care how much James suffered from Jessiebelle’s mannerisms. James wanted to offer Jessie all his attention in return, he wanted to listen to her, ask her how her day had been and talk for hours about trivial things that made him forget for a short time the strains of a botched relation.

“Here’s your coke and a turkey sandwich. Enjoy!” she forced herself to smile, but the day’s toil was gnawing away at her. James had to take the initiative. “Please, sit down for a minute. There aren’t many guests, you can certainly take a short break”, he offered her the seat next to him. She looked around, nodded wearily, and let herself sink into the chair. “What a day,” Jessie grabbed the menu card and fanned herself. He turned to her, eyeing her beautiful face, and straining to take in her every word. “Maybe you’ve already noticed, but the Strip is no place for rich snobs. Drunks and homeless people hang out here. Most of the guys who come to my Diner can’t even pay, so they charge me. Unfortunately, at the end of the month there is barely enough for the rent…and food must also be purchased. We work to the limit, staying open late to make a few Pokédollars, but it just doesn’t pay. Cassidy paid us a visit today. You remember? That broad from the newspaper? She threatened to kick us out, said she was going take the Diner away from us piece by piece. I just don’t know what to do, we barley make ends meet and we have far too few guests. What should I do? Oh, why am I talking to you, you have enough problems,” she buried her face in her hands and sighed. James stroked her cheek. He could have bought the Diner at the push of a button, but he didn’t want to be liked for his money, he wanted to be liked for who he was, the real him.

“Don’t hang your head, I could help you out after all. I don’t want a salary, a roof over my head and a warm sandwich in the evening is perfectly fine”, he smiled encouragingly at her. ‘And I can be closer to you,’ he didn’t say it out loud. She raised her head and looked at him questioningly. “What do you want in this shabby place? I’m sure you have better places to stay and besides, I really can’t pay you anything, we’re almost broke…”

James felt embarrassed. If only Jessie knew how much he wanted to escape the shackles of this terrible relationship. He wanted to be free, no matter what the cost. He wanted to have air to breathe, he wanted to laugh and have a zest for life, and that’s what he hoped to find at the Diner. With people who could show compassion, who responded to the needs of others, without batting an eye, were willing to offer a helping hand to even the most down-and-out creatures on the Strip. “You know, I have some idea about advertising and marketing. With just a piece of cardboard and my loud blabbermouth, I can double your customer base. Trust me,” he held out his hand to her and she took it. What tender, soft skin. So fragile. What have these hands had to endure? Cleaning, washing, cooking, tidying up. Such delicate hands must be protected, and James already knew how. He wished this handshake would never stop. For the first time he felt the perky waitress and it was overwhelming. A slight tug in his heart area told him where this journey would lead, and he hoped Jessie would be the destination. He had never felt so attracted to a woman before. She was different, she was a fighter that not even the worst news could wear out. For a brief moment, they looked at each other, smiling. No words were needed to describe the attraction between these two. They lost themselves in their gazes, even if it was only for a split second. Something blossomed between them, a tiny flame of hope, of forgetting and of new beginnings.

“I’m about to get out my violin and serve them a plate of spaghetti with meatballs,” Eddy murmured to one of their guests. “Yes, yes, our Jessie has sworn off love, but she seems to make a big and fat exception with James…” “Let there be fish for everyone! Let’s celebrate, my friends!” Ash rumbled into the Diner, followed by his two best mates, Misty and Brock. They immediately destroyed the intimate moment between Jessie and her new co-worker James. They both jumped up and tried to hide their blushes. Jessie cleared her throat. “Get to work, James! We don’t want to keep our guests waiting!”