#Can you spot the reason why he always wears long sleeved shirts now

[t1red-twilight]

scars

summary: spencer reassures you about your scars.

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, cause of scars not mentioned, allusion to spencer’s addiction, spencer is a jeopardy fan (confirmed)

word count: 0.9k

masterlist

you and spencer had been seeing each other for some time now, only barely making things official. previously, you had only had interactions at work or in work attire. now that you were spending more time together, spencer began to notice a habit of yours.

you were both profilers, and you had not considered that your tendency to only wear long sleeves and long pants would raise any questions whatsoever.

you only wore long sleeves. dress shirts and blazers were one thing, but you only ever wore sweaters, long sleeve lounge shirts, or had jackets on. even in times when the weather was unbelievably hot and humid.

“it’s really hot out here,” spencer noted. you nodded back.

“yeah, i mean i guess so.” you said, shrugging it off. you hadn’t really registered anything. the heat that your extra layers provided had been something that you had gotten used to.

his eyebrows furrowed, but he brushed it off.

there had been no shortage of these one-off comments. mainly just, “are you sure you’re not overheating?” or “do you want me to change the temperature?” the comments never raised any suspicion to you. spencer, however, had only gotten more mystified.

this wasn’t a reason for contention by any means, but it did culminate and have a ‘tipping point.’

you and spencer had just gotten back from a case, and had been lounging on the couch after changing into some more comfortable clothing.

you were laying between his legs and on top of him. his arms were wrapped around your torso. there was a blanket draped across your tangled bodies, and an episode of jeopardy softly played in the background.

spencer had been softly answering every question (correctly, and much faster than the contestants). the darkness of the living room had begun to lull you into a meditative state, bordering on slumber.

“why do you always wear long sleeves?”

blinking at his bluntness, you looked up at him. he was looking down with a look of perplexity on his face. “i just like to, why?”

craning his neck, he met your gaze. “i don’t know. you just always wear them. i wanted to know if there was a reason.”

“well, uh-” you cut yourself off. “actually, it's not a big deal.” you looked away from him; you could feel the blood rush to your cheeks in embarrassment. suddenly, you felt stuffy and flustered. you were acutely aware of the feeling of your clothes.

“if you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. i was just wondering.” his face and voice were flooded with casualty. he continued rubbing circles into your sides with his thumbs.

“um, it’s just that…” you trailed off and he looked down at you again. you melted into him even further, if possible. he placed his chin on top of your head, and you pulled the blanket further over yourself. the soft fleece did little to provide comfort.

“if you don’t want to tell me, it’s perfectly okay,” he kissed the top of your head.

you inhaled sharply. “i just scar easily,” you gulped, “that’s all.” your exhale came out slightly stifled.

“what do you mean?” he craned his neck to look down at you, but you avoided his gaze.

quieter this time, “i have some scars on my arms. i scar pretty easily.” staring at your feet had become much more interesting than looking at spencer’s face.

“oh, okay. i can see why you’d wear long sleeves then,” he responded. “i prefer wearing long sleeves as well. it's a comfort thing for me.”

you nodded, understanding what he meant. “i don’t like the way they look. they're not too appealing.” your statement was followed with a sardonic chuckle.

“what? why would they be unappealing?” he reached over for the tv remote and lowered the volume. soon, his arms returned to their spot around you. the quieter the volume was, the more you could feel your heartbeat in your ears.

“my scars aren’t pretty,” you mumbled this time.

“angel, why wouldn’t they be pretty? they’re a part of you.” his brows furrowed even more, but you couldn’t see it. you were still avoiding his gaze.

“i don’t- i don’t know.” the grip that you had on the blanket tightened almost imperceptibly. “they draw too much attention and i don’t particularly like them, is all. they’re ugly.”

“honey,” he moved his hand to your jaw and gently urged you to look up at him. “i’m sure they're not ugly.”

“you haven’t seen them though.” the look in his eyes was a mix of confusion and maybe even a little worry.

“honey, scars don’t make a person ugly.” he paused, “do you think my scars are ugly?”

“well, no, but-” he cut you off.

“there you go, if they’re not ugly on me, then they’re for sure not ugly on you.” his lips flattened into a little smile and his eyebrows raised from their tensed position. the nerves that you had felt dissipated from your body. “if you don’t want to show them, then by no means do you have to.”

you didn’t respond, minorly flabbergasted. “no part of you could ever be ugly i think, actually,” he said after a moment of silence.

the eye contact remained. you finally smiled back at him. “i don’t think that you could ever be ugly, either.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. you're very pretty, spence.” he snorted in response. you both looked back at the tv.

he whispered, “so are you. very, actually.” he kissed your head again.

you hummed in acknowledgment.

“we’re on the same page then,” he said as he held you tighter, and you leaned further into his body. the aura that the room had held had returned to one of blissful comfort.

[deva-arts]

"Now you see me."

Playing with perspective! have a slightly less silly blue guy.

[demonpiratehuntress]

The Straw Hats (+Ace) with you being injury prone

Featuring: Zoro x Reader, Luffy x Reader, Sanji x Reader, Usopp x Reader, Ace x Reader

Summary - you get hurt very easily. waking up with random bruises, tripping over your own feet, walking into walls, etc. and your boyfriend is extremely concerned.

Warnings - like one swear word

A/N: im super clumsy and VERY injury prone, so i thought this might be fun to write. writing this with ice on a bump on my head :))))

ZORO

Zoro tends to get murderous when he spots an injury or even the smallest cut on you. He is immediately ready to tear up whatever caused it, or slice the person responsible into ribbons. So you try to hide it as best you can, especially since you are especially clumsy and getting hurt is your biggest skill. Got a cut or bruise? You're wearing long pants and long-sleeved shirts. Bump on your head? Beanie or hat.

Sometimes, though, your body forgets you're trying to conceal your clumsiness and it will blatantly expose you, such as right now.

"OW! DAMN IT!"

You had been trying to sneak up on Zoro, who was laying out on deck - you guessed it - taking another nap. One of his eyes opened at the sudden cry, landing on your figure nearby. You were hopping around on one foot, clutching your knee with both hands, your expression pained. The swordsman sat up.

"How did you hurt your knee?"

Indeed, there was nothing around for you to hit your knee on - a precaution taken by Nami and Chopper, the only two who knew about your unfortunate tendency to get hurt.

"I...I kicked it."

"How did you-" Zoro was absolutely stunned. He was an idiot, but even he knew there's no way you could kick your own knee. It was physically impossible. He got up to come an inspect it.

"I'm fine!" You promised, setting your foot down - unfortunately for you, it twisted and took you down with it. "OW!"

Zoro's jaw dropped. It took a hot minute for him to react, too shocked to fully comprehend what had just happened. When he got over it he carefully lifted you up, taking you back to his hammock so he could take care of you. He had turned his back for a second before he heard a loud thud.

You groaned.

"HOW DID YOU FALL OFF THE HAMMOCK?!"

He was immediately rushing over to pick you up again, keeping you in his arms this time. He was so worried, the poor guy, eyes grazing over your body in concern. You didn't look physically hurt, but he could tell you were in pain. Mostly from the impacts of your falls. From then on, he's your personal bodyguard, having to physically move some things so you wouldn't knock against them, or move you so you wouldn't hit anything. As for the hammock...he always made sure to get on first so he could hold you and keep you from rolling off.

Good luck convincing him to ever let you walk anywhere - or do anything - alone again.

LUFFY

Luffy is a menace. Far from being concerned about you when you would trip or bump your head, this damn idiot has the nerve to burst into loud, uncontrollable laughter.

"You're funny, (Name)!"

And he doesn't mean to hurt or upset you, it's just the way he is. He's seen you on the battlefield, mercilessly crushing whoever got in your way, so he doesn't think much of these little accidents. He thinks you're not hurt, that you're completely fine and doing it on purpose to - yes this is his reason - entertain him. After all, why else would such a ruthless fighter just flop and fall around for no reason?

"Luffy, I don't think she did that on purpose..." Usopp tried to tell the captain, who was trying to convince you to fall again.

You frowned, trying your best to not get upset with your dumbass boyfriend, and before you could stop yourself, your body already obliged. You turned and walked right into the mast - face smashing against the hard wood. You groaned and stumbled back, your nose hurting and eyes glossing over. You fell onto your butt, earning another round of obnoxious laughter from Luffy.

"DON'T JUST SIT THERE AND LAUGH!" Sanji knocked Luffy so hard on his head that the captain fell to the floor, hitting the deck face-first. Then the cook came to help you up.

"Thanks," you mumbled, feeling so embarrassed.

It was then that Luffy noticed your tears, and he sprung to his feet - completely unaffected by Sanji's attack. He came up to you and grabbed your arms, making you look at him.

"(Name), what's wrong?"

"I'm fine," you smiled, shaking off his concern. You made to walk away, but you once again turned and slammed into the mast.

"CAN WE MOVE THIS DAMN THING?!"

"But that's...that's always been there?" Usopp said-asked meekly.

You shot him a glare so withering that he screamed and cowered behind Luffy, who just laughed and wrapped his arms around you, extending them until he had you completely encased in a cocoon made by his arms.

"There, now you can't get hurt!"

SANJI

Sanji, like Zoro, tends to overreact when you get hurt. And by overreact, I mean he dropkicks everyone and everything that dared to cause you harm. So you try to hide your injuries from your overly concerned boyfriend, opting to cover them with layers. Sanji found this a bit odd, but otherwise didn't press. But slowly he started to notice things he hadn't before.

"My love, watch that-"

You bumped into the wall, sending your book crashing onto your face.

"-wall."

He rushed over to check if you were okay, laughing a little when you pulled the book away from your face to smile at him sheepishly.

"I'm fine."

Seconds after you said that disaster struck again, with you tripping over your own feet - with absolutely nothing being in the way - and falling over. Sanji's eyes widened and he quickly helped you back up.

"You are very clumsy, (Name)," he chuckled, not knowing that was exactly it.

"I am," you agreed, hiding your embarrassed blush behind your book.

Before he could say anything else, you took off and tried to quickly walk away before he could notice the growing bruise on your knee. That failed, as you hadn't taken three steps before you crashed into one of your oncoming crewmates, and fell backwards.

"Mosshead! Why did you push (Name)!" Sanji yelled, coming over looking ready to throw hands.

"As if I would do that!" The swordsman snapped back.

"Well she's on the floor isn't she?!"

"She bumped into me!"

"How dare you blame (Name) you big oaf!"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"

You quickly stood up and got in between them, averting the total destruction of the Going Merry.

"He's right, Sanji. I bumped into him. I told you I'm clumsy."

You didn't have to say more before you were suddenly scooped up into the cook's arms, hearts in his eyes with his next words.

"Well then I'll just carry you everywhere my love!"

USOPP

Generally speaking, Usopp is a lot more alert than most of the crew. So it's no surprise that he picked up on your clumsiness early on, but he didn't think it was anything to worry about since it was just small stuff. But the moment you walked in one day with a bag of ice on your head, unsuccessfully trying to conceal it under a hat, Usopp grew alarmed.

"(Name), is everything okay?" Your concerned boyfriend asked you, stopping you from lifting something up. "Your head-"

"Is fine," you finished with a smile, kissing his cheek. "But thanks babe."

You walked away before he could insist on you telling him what was going on. But unfortunately for you, your two left feet gave you away and you stumbled forward, dropping the box and then tumbling over it. Usopp cried out in alarm and ran to your side, helping you up.

"(Name)!" He fussed over you. "Okay that's it, what's going on?"

"Should have known I couldn't fool the brave Captain Usopp," you smiled, trying to divert his attention.

"Well, I-" He stopped laughing confidently when he realised what you were doing, "Hey! You can't do that! Tell me, I'm worried."

You sighed, "I'm just clumsy, that's all. And injury prone."

"That...explains a lot..."

You growled and smacked him, "Is that all you can say?!"

"S-sorry!" He apologised quickly, rubbing his head. He was about to take you to Chopper for nothing other than he was worried you were hurt internally, when you suddenly tripped and fell on top of him.

He groaned, "Clumsy is an understatement."

ACE

He notices right away. There was no way it was normal for someone to walk into a wall that they knew was there, or to trip on a flat surface, or bonk their head on a shelf that they knew was over their heads - multiple times. But somehow, you managed to do all of that and more, and poor Ace was sick with worry about your physical health.

"OW! FUCK!"

Ace's head shot up from the bed, "What happened?!"

"I hit my head again..."

"Same shelf?"

"...Same shelf."

He chuckled before getting up and going over to you, bringing you into his strong arms. He placed a kiss on your head, replacing your hand rubbing your sore spot with his hand.

Later on, you were trying to bring him something, when you stubbed your toe on the bedframe and tumbled onto the bed, startling the poor man out of his nap.

"(Name)!" He figured you must have tripped, but he was not prepared for your tears. "Where does it hurt?"

"My toe..." You pouted. "I hit my food on the bed."

He face-palmed. It takes a lot for Ace of all people to face-palm, so embarrassment creeped up on you. Before you could protest, he pulled you on top of him and made you lay on his chest.

"I swear, you're a walking safety hazard," he teased. "Looks like I can't let you leave the room now."

He meant it. And if you did leave, it was with him. He was just too worried about not being around when you hurt yourself, which was valid because he was always your source of comfort.

Later...

"What happened to your eye?"

"I...fell...out of the bed..."

"...."

You are on the verge of making Ace cry.

[therand0mwriter]

IDOL-Chapitre deux

Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir x Male!Idol!reader

When a young American idol and his band tours in France, every one in Adrien's class wants to go. Unfortunately for them, tickets sold out as soon as they were for sale. Fortunately for Adrien, his father was able to get him tickets, but with a cost. Even though theres an underlying reason on why he's going, Adrien decides to take his best friend Nino, and his other two close classmates/friends, Alya and Marinette.

When they all got to the concert and the idol started singing, it mesmerized Adrien, pulling him to the front of the stage. Seeing the idol perform made Adrien feel things he never felt before, and it didn't help when the idol lent down and kissed Adrien's hand. Now that caused quite the ruckus.

"𝐔𝐡, 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭?"

[The song "Bad Habit" by Steve Lacy does not belong to me]

[Unedited]

*Time Skip, 6 Months*

*Adrien's POV*

"Are you guys excited or what?!" Alya shouted, grinning from ear to ear. Marinette enthusiastically nodded her head, "Of course! And I already have all of our outfits ready!" "Great! I can't wait see them!" Alya cheered. "Thats amazing, Marinette. It'll be cool to see what you came up with this time." I smiled at the blue eyed girl. Her cheeks turned dark and a nervous smile made its way onto her face, "Y-Yeah, h-hopefully they look good!" I laugh and smile, "It's you, I'm sure they will!"

Marinette had offer to make me and Nino outfits for Ensnare's concert, but we politely turned her down, not wanting to cause her too much trouble. Speaking of Ensnare, their concert was tonight, and it was the last one for the France tour. From the videos we've seen online, it'll be an unforgettable experience...

*Time Skip*

*Y/N's POV*

"We got two hours until showtime! Chop chop people!" I could hear Sheena practically screaming over the hoard of workers, clapping her hands, all the way to our dressing room. "Can she be any louder?" Kylian mumbled to himself. "You know she can," I chuckled. "Yeah, don't tempt her, especially tonight." Jiraiya added, rubbing his temples. Kylian mocked Jiraiya in a tiny squeaky voice, causing the ravenette to throw his water bottle at the brunette.

Kylian shot up to his feet, shoulders squared and ready for a fight. Jiraiya didn't hesitate to rise to his feet either. "Hey!" I yelled, deepening my voice and making both males immediately paused in their steps and look towards me. "Knock it off." I gritted through my teeth, no room for argument in my tone. Both males glared at each other before sitting back into their previous spots.

"Ooo, papa Y/N does not play!" Kairo laughed from his seat in the make-up chair. I rolled my eyes and chuckled, "That's enough out of you," He grinned mischievously but quieted down nonetheless.

*Time Skip, 1 hour*

*Adrien's POV*

Me and Nino were currently in Marinette's living room, waiting as she and Alya finished getting ready. Nino was dressed in a white t-shirt with a light brown button up shirt as a jacket, black jeans with a chain, black sneakers, a light brown flat cap, and his usual colorful bracelets he always wore.

[A/N: Image does not belong to me. Something like this for Nino's outfit.]

I was dressed in a black t-shirt, a light blue button up as a jacket, black jeans, and white sneakers.

[A/N: Image does not belong to me. Something like this for Adrien's outfit.]

"Would you boys like anything to drink?" Marinette's mom, Sabine Cheng, asked us from their kitchen. "No thank you, we're alright Mrs. Cheng." I answered with a smile, Nino nodding along. Just then, Marinette and Alya came downstairs. "Woah..." Nino breathlessly said as he saw his girlfriend. Alya was wearing a long sleeve, orange and brown dress that stopped at her mid thigh. The dress was almost a geometrical design, definitely making it an eye catcher. She wore brown boots and had a brown purse to match.

[A/N: Image does not belong to me. Something like this for Alya's outfit.]

"I decided to go out of my comfort zone this time," Alya smiled, radiating confidence. "You look amazing, babe!" Nino cheered, going and hugging his girlfriend. He kissed her cheek as I added, "Yeah! You look great!" "It's all thanks to Marinette," Alya stepped to the side to show said girl (who was hiding). Marinette was wearing a soft pink sundress that stopped at her mid thigh, a red and white flower design along the dress. She had a white cardigan on, white flats and a matching white clutch purse.

[A/N: Image does not belong to me. Something like this for Marinette's dress.]

"You look amazing, Marinette! Very cute!" I complimented her, making her face turn red. Marinette started to uncontrollably stutter, but Alya came to her side, "What she is trying to say, is thank you." I look back to Marinette and she rigidly nodded her head in agreement. "Alright! Let's go!" Alya cheered, grabbing Marinette's hand and pulling her along, me and Nino following behind.

*Time Skip, 30 Minutes*

*Y/N's POV*

We just finished our VIP meet and greet and got back to our dressing room, touching up our look and/or changing our outfits. Not long after, our manager came in, "Is everyone ready?" Sheena asked, looking around the room. "Yeah, Y/N just needs to get changed." Jiraiya said, motioning to me in the make-up chair. "Alright, everyone else, go get into your positions." Sheena said before quickly leaving the room, most likely to go check on multiple other things.

When the make-up artist was done, I stood up and called over my band mates, "Line up." Ever since our very first performance together, it's been tradition for them to line up and have me look them over. The twins were first, then Kylian and finally Jiraiya. The twins were wearing a white t-shirt, a tan jacket, dark green cargo pants, white sneakers and jewelry.

[A/N: Image does not belong to me. Something like this for Kairo's and Loyal's outfit.]

I straightened out one of Loyal's pant legs, as one cuff was risen higher than the other, and gave him a nod of approval. I move onto Kairo and straightened out his shirt and jacket, giving him the nod of approval as well. I turn to Kylian to see him wearing a white sweater with the sleeves pushed up, gray skinny jeans with material missing at his knees, white sneakers and his jewelry.

[A/N: Image does not belong to me. Something like this for Kylian's outfit.]

I straightened out his messy hair, getting a complaint from him. Once I was done I nodded in approval. When I finally turn to Jiraiya, he was waiting with a smile. I could tell he was nervous, so I smiled at him and wrapped my arm around his shoulders, "Relax, you'll be great, you always are!" His shoulder relaxed but his face held... disappointment? Before I could ask what's wrong, he changed the subject, "Thanks, how do I look by the way?" I pulled away and took a look at his outfit. He was wearing a clean, white button up shirt, light blue ripped jeans, white sneakers and his jewelry. "Handsome," I simply said, nodding in approval.

[A/N: Image does not belong to me. Something like this for Jiraiya's outfit.]

It looked like he blushed but quickly turned his head to our other band mates, "Okay, let's go. Get dressed and meet us out there." He started pushing the other three members out the door. "See you guys there!" I called out before they closed the door.

*3rd Person POV*

There was an awkward silence among the 4 band members that just left their leader. Kairo opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Jiraiya was trying hard to ignore their concerned glances, focusing on heading to their instruments. That is, until Kylian spoke up, "Y'know, he's not going to treat you any different unless you tell him how you feel."

Jiraiya made a sound of annoyance, "You don't think I know that?" Kylian rolled his eyes, "Oh my god, just tell him!" "I don't want to ruin what we have." Jiraiya said. "Well, your looks of longing and sadness towards our dear leader is making me uncomfortable. So tell him and stop with your moping!" Kylian said, exasperated. Jiraiya halted in his steps and got into Kylians face, "If I tell him how I feel and he rejects me, it's going to be extremely uncomfortable for all of us. Not just you." He pulled away and sped off towards his instrument, leaving the three boys behind.

Kylian stared off in the direction Jiraiya went with a glare, Kairo coughing uncomfortably and Loyal shifting from foot to foot. "That was awkward for us," Kairo mumble. Kylian 'tsk-ed', "Shut up."

*Time Skip*

*Adrien's POV*

After we made our way through a metal detector and the security guard scanned our tickets, we were handed some glow sticks. We cracked them as we made our way into the venue and placed them on our necks and wrists. We scanned the place and gawked, amazed at all the lights and decorations. There was a stand selling the bands merchandise and a couple stands that were selling snacks and drinks.

"Okay! Let's grab the merch now! That way we can leave immediately afterwards! The line isn't that long too!" Alya shouted over the noise of the crowd and background music. "Smart! That way we won't be late for our dinner!" I also shouted. All three of them looked at me, confused. "Uh, what do you mean: 'dinner', dude?!" Nino asked. "Um, our dinner with Ensnare? Did I not tell you we have Deluxe VIP tickets?!" I said, starting to get confused.

Everyone had blank looks on their faces before they screamed/shouted in excitement. "Why didn't you tell us we had Deluxe VIP tickets?!" Alya screamed, shaking my shoulders. "S-Sorry I-I f-forgot!" I tried to say while being violently shook. "This is so exciting! We get to meet them!" Marinette cheered, jumping in her spot, Alya joining her not long after.

"Oh, wait! Let's hurry up and get in line for the merch!" Alya paused, taking Marinette's hand and speed walking towards the line. Me and Nino looked at each other and chuckled, following after the girls.

*Time Skip*

*3rd Person POV*

The concert was about to begin, the four teens waiting with anticipation. Adrien looked down to his hands to see the shirt and magazine he bought at the merchandise stand. The shirt was a long sleeve crew neck and it was white, Ensnare's most recent album cover on the front. The magazine also had the bands album cover on the front, but when you opened it, it was pretty much a picture book. It was full of photos of the members, together and separate. Occasionally, there would be paragraphs explaining what was happening in the picture or why they were doing a that specific photo shoot.

Adrien was embarrassed to admit it, but the main reason he got the magazine was because of Y/N. The vendor for the stand had the magazine on display, and he had it opened to a picture of just Y/N. Y/N was dressed in an all red suit, his shirt slightly opened to reveal his chest a bit. The background for the picture was all red too, making Y/N's head and chest stand out the most, making him eye catching. Adrien convinced himself that he just wanted Y/N to sign the picture and that's why he got it, but deep down, he knew he just really liked that picture and wanted it in general.

Finally, a drum roll started. "It's time! The moment you've all been waiting for!" Once the announcer started, the entire venue erupted into a cheer. "Please welcome, Ensnare's favorite set of twins! Kairo and Loyal!" Said twins ran out onto stage, Kairo going to the edge and high fiving a few fans while Loyal sheepishly waved.

Once they made it to their assigned instruments, the announcer started up again, "Next, we have the bad boy, the heart breaker, Kylian!" The brunette ran out onto the stage, winking and blowing kisses to the female fans. "Second to last, we have the cool, collected, Jiraiya!" He calmly stepped out onto the stage, also waving and making his way to his instrument.

The drum roll sped up, "And finally... the leader and amazing vocalist... Y/N!" Time seemed to slow down for Adrien, the sounds of the crowd drowned out, only the sounds of his breathing, rapid heartbeat and the slow steps of Y/N walking onto the stage were present. But when Adrien saw Y/N... everything went silent, it was like he was deaf. The idol on stage was glowing, his silky hair shined, his eyes were vibrant, his skin clear and smooth... and not to mention his outfit. The male was wearing all black, except for his thin white belt. His dress shirt had the first few buttons undone and was tucked into his skinny jeans, dress shoes and silver jewelry completing his look.

[A/N: Image does not belong to me. Something like this for your (the reader) outfit.]

When Y/N made it to the microphone and greeted the crowd, it snapped Adrien out of his trance, "Bonsoir, everyone!" The blonde male realized how heavy his breathing was and how fast his heart rate was, his face felt hot and his palms sweaty. He wiped his forehead and started to control his breathing, 'What's wrong with me? Why am I acting like this?' Adrien thought, genuinely confused.

If Adrien wasn't so focused on his breathing, he would have connected that his 'problem' was right on the stage in front of him.

"Thank you all so much for coming to see us tonight! We really appreciate it! I hope you enjoy the show tonight, and since it's our last one, we have something special planned for you all!" Y/N explained, a large smile on his face. The crowd screamed once again. "Now, let's get on with it!"

*Time Skip, 1 hour*

The band had just finished playing their final song off of their most recent album. The crowd was screaming, confetti was everywhere, balloons that the stage hand had threw out were bouncing around, it was a moment none of the teens would forget.

Ensnare was taking a break, wiping sweat of their foreheads and chugging water bottles. About half way through the concert the twins had taken off their jackets and Kylian had thrown his sweater into the crowd, a lucky female fan catching it. The male only had an undershirt on now, his bicep tattoo of his guitar with music notes showing.

Y/N took a deep breath before grabbing the microphone again, "Y'all enjoying the concert?!" He got excited screams in return. He laughed into the microphone, causing Adrien's heart rate to spike up once more. "Well, we have something special planned for you all. Since this is the last concert of our first out of country tour, we are going to play a couple of our most favored covers!" The venue erupted.

Y/N laughed once again, and turned to Jiraiya, nodding to start. Said male then started to strum an American pop tune. The band played two covers of songs, but before they played their third, Y/N spoke into the microphone again, "This is our last song for the night! We all really appreciate you coming out here to support us tonight... Y'know, when we started this band, we never thought we would be popular enough to tour across the world. We wouldn't be here without you! WE LOVE YOU, FRANCE!" The crowd went wild, a quarter of the fans even started crying.

Y/N looked to his bandmates and they nodded. He turned back to the microphone and took a deep breath.

"I wish I knew you wanted me." The band started playing and Y/N continued to sing. "I wish I knew, I wish I knew you wanted me. I wish I knew, I wish I knew you wanted me. What you, ooh, uh, what you do? Made a move, coulda made a move. If I knew I'd be with you. Is it too late to pursue?"

Adrien didn't know what came over him. He mindlessly started to move through the crowd.

"I bite my tongue, it's a bad habit. Kinda mad that I didn't take a stab at it. Thought you were too good for me, my dear. Never gave me time of day, my dear. It's okay, things happen for, Reasons that I think are sure, yeah." Y/N continued to sing and dance. Whenever there was an opening, Adrien moved in, still moving forward.

"I wish I knew, I wish I knew you wanted me. I wish I knew (oh), I wish I knew you wanted me. I wish I knew (yeah), I wish I knew you wanted me (oh). I wish I knew, I wish I knew you wanted me." Adrien made it, he was at the front of the stage, so close to the siren known as Y/N.

Y/N saw something catch his eye, a mop of golden blond hair. He saw it belonged to a boy around his age, green starstruck eyes, tan skin with rosy cheeks... he was cute. The singer made his way to the boy, still singing. "Say to me (please just say to me), If this could wind up. I wish you wouldn't play with me. I wanna know (oh no),"

Y/N got right in front of Adrien and held out his hand. Adriens eyes were still wide with wonder as he placed his hand in Y/N's, still not fully processing the situation. No one knew what was going to happen next, except for Y/N. He lent down and kissed the back of Adriens hand, "Uh, can I bite your tongue like my bad habit?" Adriens face, ears and neck flushed red as Y/N winked and pulled away. The fans that were around them screamed in excitement, not ready for what just happened.

"Would you mind if I tried to make a pass at it? Were you not too good for me, my dear?Funny you come back to me, my dear. It's okay, things happen for, Reasons that I can't ignore, yeah. I wish I knew, I wish I knew you wanted me. I wish I knew (wish I knew), I wish I knew you wanted me (oh)." Y/N continued to dance and sing, oblivious to the angry/pained look Jiraiya was giving him. The other three band members were just surprised about what happened, eyes wide.

Adrien snapped out of his trance when he felt his phone buzzing. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to see a couple missed calls from Nino and Alya and multiple texts asking where he was. Adrien quickly typed back that he was on his way and looked to the stage once more. He didn't want to leave, wanting to be as close to Y/N as possible, but he knew he needed to get back to his friends.

He turned to head back into the crowd, but finally left the stage after one more longing look towards Ensnare's singer. The song ended when the blond reunited with his friends. "Dude! Where did you go?!" Nino shouted over the noise of the crowd. "Uh, bathroom!" Adrien shouted back.

Ensnare waved goodbye to the crowd, Loyal tossing his drumsticks into the crowd and Kylian and Y/N high fiving a few fans. The band was finally off stage and Jiraiya immediately went to his changing room without a word. Y/N noted that he would have to talk to him about what's wrong later.

Sheena came up to the rest of them, "Amazing work once again, boys! Now, go take a shower and get changed, your dinner is in an hour." They all went off and did just that. Y/N was now wearing a white t-shirt, black jeans, white sneakers and a black jean jacket. Kylian was wearing a black sweatshirt, black sweatpants and white sneakers. The twins were wearing a white t-shirt, dark blue jeans, white sneakers and a dark green jacket. Jiraiya wore a white button up shirt with black birds as the design, black ripped skinny jeans, and white sneakers.

The five boys met up after showering and changing (and a touch up from the make-up artists). Y/N instantly went to Jiraiya's side and whispered, "Whats wrong?" Jiraiya brushed him off, "Nothing."

Loyal cheered, "Let's go get our grub on!" At the opportunity to escape, Jiraiya left Y/N and questioned Loyal, "What dishes are you looking forward to?" He smiled. Loyal got stars in his eyes before going on a rant about certain dishes and how to make them. Before becoming a drummer, Loyal's dream job was to be a chef.

Kylian muttered to Y/N, "At least we know if the band ever breaks up Loyal has a fall back." He ended with a chuckle, Y/N joining him.

They made it to the private dining room and opened the doors. None of the band members were ready to see the people waiting for them... more accurately a specific person. Y/N halted in his step and his breath caught in his throat. In front of him was the blonde that he kissed on the back of the hand. He still had those rosy cheeks.

Y/N lightly blushed in embarrassment, 'I never thought I would see him again! Otherwise, I wouldn't have kissed his hand!' But he cleared his throat, stepped forward, and held out his hand with a kind smile, "My name is Y/N, it's a pleasure to meet you! What's your name?"

[lost-walmartbag]

Kyle x reader part 6

Warning: Sexual themes

Background: After your morning with Kyle, you can't get him off your mind

Previous part

'Fantasy'

After the morning you had you didn't know how to feel. While as amazing as it was you did regret it a bit. Not because you didn't want to sleep with Kyle or even that it was bad, god it definitely wasn't. It was because you wanted to take it slow. You wanted Kyle to see you in a better light but it was all ruined now.

It was on your mind that whole day and when the day of your date came around you honestly forgot. You were sitting at your desk and quietly studying when you heard a firm knock on your door. You got up and opened it revealing Kyle. You were wearing your reading glasses and you were in baggy sweatpants and one of Kyle's shirts. Kyle stood there in casual clothes and his smile disappeared when he saw your outfit.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" You asked blushing a bit when you saw him.

"Did you forget?" He asked not being able to hide his disappointment.

"Forget? Forget wh- oh fuck." You said realizing what today was supposed to be. "Our date oh my god I'm so sorry."

"No um, it's ok." He said with a sigh and then gently smiled. "We don't have to go."

"No fuck that we're going. Give me like five minutes." You said pulling him inside the dorm room.

"No, it's really ok." He said as you started changing into a different outfit quickly. He looked away wanting to give you your privacy.

"I'm just so sorry my mind has been somewhere else today." You said putting on your shoes.

"Are you ok? We can call off the date if you aren't feeling up from it." He said with a frown.

"Nope, we're going." You said grabbing your purse and taking his hand. "Now where to?"

Kyle smiled seeing how assertive you were and nodded. He leads you out hand in hand. He clears his throat and looks down at you.

"So what's been on your mind lately?" He asked making you blush. You finally realized how big his hands were as it held yours.

The memories of his long fingers inside you made you nervous. You felt so weird being this nervous. You never had been before but here you were walking alongside your new boyfriend a blushing mess. Kyle noticed your nervousness his mind raced trying to figure out why.

"W-well it's just that got a lot of homework and stuff." You lie looking away from him.

He knew you were lying but could he call you out on it? He didn't think it would be right to so he didn't say anything. This didn't stop him from trying to figure out the real reason. As you two walked into the park he walked to a spot with a picnic blanket.

"Aw this is actually really cute," You said sitting down on the blanket.

He smiled and sat across from you. "I wanted you to have a nice lunch. I know you said your classes were pretty hard and I know you only eat at the cafeteria." He said pouring you a cup of lemonade and handing it to you.

"God you remembered that?" You ask taking the cup from him.

"Of course. I know you listen to me so why wouldn't I listen to you. Plus your cute so it's easier to pay attention." He joked with a chuckle and pulled out a few sandwiches from the picnic basket.

You felt weirdly warm and fuzzy at his statement. You blushed a bit harder and when you saw him roll up his sleeves revealing his veiny arms, you felt like you would explode right then and there. You couldn't stop staring and Kyle noticed. He smirked but didn't say anything so as to not embarrass you. This was a nice change of pace, he used to be a mess around you but now seeing that you were the same, filled him with confidence. He wanted to see how much further he could push this.

"So how have your classes been?" He asked pulling out the rest of the contents in the basket.

"Y-yeah it's been ok." You say as you watch as Kyle used his arms and hands.

God, was he always this hot? He looks so strong was he always like that? Why didn't you notice that? Kyle could almost hear your thoughts and it drove him crazy.

"Oh yeah?" He asked with a smirk as he stabbed a piece of watermelon and brought it to his mouth.

Your eyes followed his hand closely unable to pull your eyes away. Kyle brought his hand up to his hair and as you followed it you caught his eyes and blushed. You quickly looked away and sipped on your drink.

"You keep staring at my hands." He said with a smile.

"I-I'm sorry." You say looking down at your lap. Kyle leans closer and brings his hand to your chin making you look up at him.

Your eyes stare into his. He was smirking and his aura just felt so warm, but it doesn't stop a chill from going up your spine.

"What's on your mind." He asked quietly as he leaned in closer almost brushing his lips against yours.

"Y-You're so hot. God I can't stop thinking about you." You admit wanting him to come closer.

"Oh yeah? Tell me what you're thinking about."

"This morning...I'm scared you see me differently but I want to do it again." You say looking down at his lips.

"Of course, I see you differently." He said pulling away and taking your hand. "But not in a bad way. I can't get you off my mind either."

"I just feel stupid because I really wanted to take it slow." You say quietly.

"Y/N I loved what we did. I still think you're amazing, but knowing what's under those clothes just makes it better." He teased making you laugh.

"I really did like what we did I just don't want you to think I'd do it with just anyone." You say with a smile.

"Oh trust me I know. I know you know your worth." He said rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand.

"Yeah don't date anyone who isn't hot." You joke making Kyle blush a bit.

As you two talked your dynamic flipped once again. You became your normal confident self whereas Kyle reverted back to his slight nervousness. You two enjoyed your evening eating, feeding each other, and talking. It felt like a weight was lifted from your shoulders. Kyle was really different from anyone you'd met or dated and he felt the same.

Your teasing made him happier than it probably should but he couldn't help but enjoy your presence. You two felt perfect for each other it was the change of pace you both needed. Even though he had met you in the weirdest situation it definitely snowballed into one of the best few months you both could have ever asked for.

[bl0pers]

𝐡𝐪 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 - 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫

Hello again, hope you are having a wonderful week :). This topic really hits home for some people, and I really do NOT want you to proceed if you are uncomfortable with what is in the warnings.

take care of yourselves lovelies :) Sending love <3

featuring - rintaro suna, kotaro bokuto, keiji akaashi

TW - Female implied reader, Self-harm (Mentioned throughout each character), scars, crying, established relationships, bad mental health (reader). dark content ahead. Name calling (Pet names like love, babe, and others). Grammar errors are intentional (Capitalization & punctutation. Some spelling mistakes).

rintaro suna

scrolling through your phone and while it was approximately around a thousand degrees outside was probably your first mistake. getting a boyfriend who was always observant was probably the second. suna glared at you, well maybe not glared, more like squinted at you, kind of judgingly. you look up from your phone, feeling his heavy gaze. "what is it rin?" you ask with a small smile. you found it funny how rin looked at people judgingly, it reminded you of a fox. cute. "why are you always wearing longsleeves even though it's so hot outside?" not so cute anymore. you shake your head, "it's a habit. and besides they're comfortable." rin rolls his eyes. "being baked in your own clothing isn't comfortable, love." you shrug and for some reason, you shift in your seat on the couch and bring your legs closer to yourself. rin being observant in body language immediately takes notice. he walks over and takes a seat next to you. you're nervous, he can tell. "y/n, you can tell me anything, y'know. I won't judge you." he whispers. you're skeptical, every single time someone says that, you run away from confrontation. he loves me, I can trust him, you tell yourself. and you start to cry. he quickly pulls you into his arms and just lets you sit there. it's a while before you calm down, and it's silent, you're thankful for it though. rin wants to cry himself, because he'll never understand how you feel, and how much pain you must've endured. "can I see?" he asks softly, you nod and he pulls up your sleeves. and there they were. white long scars, covering your wrists and forearm. rin looks over at your face and notices you aren't even looking at them, your eyes are closed shut and his heart breaks into a million pieces. he kisses your wrist and pulls you closer and pulls down the sleeves quickly. "I'll always love you, y'know. you don't have to hide anything from me," you just nod in his arms, "don't ever do anything like this again, okay?" "I'll love you forever, y/n, don't you forget that"

kotaro bokuto

"babe!" you call out. there was a shirt you wanted kotaro to check out on you. and you looked good! it was fitting really nicely, and it was cute. kotaro came in and stars erupted in his eyes. "can I take a picture real quick? you look so adorable baby." you smile and strike a pose. he smiles as he looks down at his phone. you look stunning of course, he pays for everything like a good boyfriend should. as soon as you get home you decide to chill in the living room and scroll through your phone. kotaro puts all the stuff away. being too lazy to go chill with you in the living room, he opts for your shared bedroom and lays in the bed. as he scrolls through the photos he took, he notices something on your shoulder. as he takes a closer look, chills course through his spine.

oh.

oh.

he needs to talk to you. now. kotaro pulls open your messages and types as fast as humanely possible.

ko <;3 : hey babe. <y/n3 : yea??? ko <3: can you come talk to me pls.

fearing the worst, you rush into your room, to find a serious faced kotaro. oh no. something's horribly wrong. he pats the spot on the bed beside him. as soon as you sit on the spot, he brings you close to his chest. it takes you by surprise but you don't mind. he kisses your forehead and lays his chin on top of your head. "you know, i really really really love you right?" you nod. he sighs, "baby, i know." your stomach drops. he has to be joking. there's no way. you covered it up for months, how did he now know? the picture...fuck. you forgot to cover them... tears start blurring your vision and spill down your cheeks. "kou im sorry. i'm really really sorry, please don't be mad at me. i can't help it. i want to stop so bad, but it's so hard, and i don't know what to do. please, please d-don't leave." you choke out. kotaro just grips you harder and shushes you. he tilts your head up with his fingers, "hey, look at me sweet girl. i could never leave you. you're the most kind, loving, caring, funny, smart, and wonderful person i know. i'm stuck by your side forever, remember?" he grins up at you. "we pinky promised it too!" he holds out his pinky, and you strangle out a breathy laugh from your crying. you calm down a bit as you wrap your pinky around his. he takes your hand and kisses the knuckles gently before wrapping you in a hug again. "i could never leave you pretty girl. you and i are in this together."

keiji akaashi

he knew. he had suspicions but now he knew. keiji knew now because while you both were on the subway coming home, every time something, or someone, hit you near your legs, you'd freeze up. you would tense up or visibly flinch away. you both were coming back from a nice little coffee and book date. keiji wanted to talk to you about this, but didn't want to spoil your good mood. the minute you got home you decided to read some of the books you got from the library and keiji decided to finish a bit of his work with you in the living room. after a bit of time had passed, you decided to put on some netflix. just as you grab the remote, keiji gently touches your wrist and shakes his head. he sits on the floor and pats the spot next to him. you raise a brow but comply. he takes your hands in his and holds them tight. he scans your face and kisses you, slow and meaningful. it takes you by surprise, but you're not complaining. after what seemed like too short of a moment, keiji brings you into his arms and keeps your hands in his. "y/n...you don't need to hide it anymore. i know" you freeze. everything goes cold. your entire body is tense. you pull back a bit and look into his eyes. all you see is hurt, and a bit of dread. how? how could this have happened? and why like this? "how...how long?" you ask him. and he closes his eyes for a second before opening them again. "for a bit of time." tears prick your eyes. "and i bet you know where too, don't you keiji?" he nods and brings you into him again. "keiji...keiji i'm sorry i didn't tell you. i won't do it again, don't be mad at me. it was too much. i couldn't stop it. it hurts so bad. i just want it all to end already." you start sobbing. he brings you to look at him again, with his hands on either side of your cheek. he kisses you again through your gasps and hiccups. he's oh so slow, soft, gentle. so loving. "don't ever say that angel. i could never be mad at you. don't apologize, my love . if anything i'm sorry for not noticing sooner. i won't let it happen again." you feel your heart clench and unclench at his words. you look up at him through your tears, "you won't leave me?" he lays a kiss on your forehead, "i could never". you nuzzle into him deeper, as he strokes his hand down your hair and back. "i love you more than the world itself, my dove. i'll always be by your side. i'll be on this journey with you. forever."

[fictionalmenxyn]

Secrets

Mentions: Ghost x amputee!gn!reader (amputated from the shoulder down, like Bucky if you know him)

Grabbing your prosthetic, you pulled it onto your shoulder and pull the straps that rested on your shoulder and around your ribs. Tightening the prosthetic to a comfortable yet durable grip, you grabbed your long sleeved shirt and pull it over your head. Grabbing your hoodie you did the same and then grabbed your gloves and pulled them on, hiding your prosthetic.

Hearing a knock at the door, you opened it to see Soap, “Hey there, you ready to grab some grub?” He smiled. You nodded and smiled back, closing the door and locking it behind you; you both headed towards the lunch hall.

Seeing the queue, you and Soap joined the line. Grabbing your trays and the food you wanted to eat, you grabbed a drink and waited for Soap.

While you were queueing up with Soap, you were being watched… watched by the one and only Ghost. He has been protective of you, since you first joined he’s always been like that. You didn’t mind, but he had a feeling you were hiding something from him and today was the day he was going to hopefully find out.

Going over the table to meet up with Ghost, Gaz and Price. Sitting down Price greeted “glad for you to joins us, you pair.” Soap laughed “yeah, apologies for being late the new kids were squabbling so I had to break them up.” Price nodded.

Eating you all were in many different conversations with each other. Finishing food you all dropped your plates off to the counter again. You decide to head to your room, you were going to go grab a beanie considering it was quite cold today.

Feeling as if you were being followed you turned your head to see Ghost. He nodded and spoke “Y/l/n” you nodded and spoke “Ghost.” He walked with you to your room and he asked “can I tell you something?” You nodded and let him into your room.

He sat on the edge of your bed, he looked down at the floor and looked back up as he met your gaze. He spoke “I’m sorry if this offends you but… I feel like there is something you haven’t told me like your keeping something big from me.” You nodded and sat next to him and placed a gently hand on top of his.

You replied “I have, it’s uh nothing bad it’s just-” you didn’t exactly know how to tell him so you stood. Standing in front of Ghost, you lifted your hoodie and shirt only slightly. He stopped you, you chuckled and spoke “don’t worry I’m not trying to do anything like that, it’s my arm.” You revealed your prosthetic.

His eyes widen ever so slightly, he asked “why do you hide it?” You pulled your hoodie and shirt down and sat next to him again. You replied “so I don’t get looks or more so my enemy doesn’t see my weak spot.” He nodded and you said “that’s also another reason I wear these gloves. It’s also cold today so that’s another reason I am wearing them.”

Ghost chuckled, he spoke “you know, when your just around your task force you don’t have to hide it.” You nodded and spoke “I won’t from now, I’ve been building up my confidence. But when there are other people I’m going to stick to covering it up. I’m not telling my story all the time.” He nodded and said “you don’t need to worry about people’s opinions or thoughts. If anyone makes fun of you or makes a snide comment, come to me. You know I’ll protect you.” You smiled and leaned into his side. He made you feel safe and comfortable even though he just found out about your prosthetic. He made you feel as if he has always knew you and your prosthetic. That’s why you liked him so much, you can show him something new about you and he’ll talk to you about it as if he’d known forever. He keeps you safe and you know that’s what he enjoys doing.

He’s your safe place, your home.

[foolondahill17]

"Smoke on the Water” blares from his phone. Dean picks up without looking at the number.

“Found anything, dork?”

“I think I figured out why the Amazons are choosing the men they are,” Sam says.

“Shoot.”

“They’re, well,” Sam’s voice goes a little lower, like he’s overcompensating for his discomfort. “I think they’re in a breeding cycle.”

“A what now?”

“They’re mating,” Sam clarifies. His voice levels to a more rehearsed tone as he reads from his book, “Amazons are an entirely female-orientated society. They have no use for males except for the preservation of their species. Every two years, the Amazons were said to mate with a few chosen human males, likely selected for desirable genetics. Part of this procedure, like the infamous Black Widow Spider, involved the disposal of the male after implantation. The murders were likely highly ritualized, meant to pay tribute to their mother, Harmonia.

“It makes sense,” Sam switches back to his normal voice. “All the guys killed so far have been in their thirties, otherwise healthy, and fairly good looking – all prime criteria for a mate.”

Dean’s not listening to Sam anymore. He’s covered in cold sweat. Did he and Lydia use a condom? He can’t remember. Why the fuck can’t he remember? He always uses a condom. Not since he was a dumb kid –

Unbidden, the face of the little girl at Lydia’s side – Emma – rises to the forefront of his mind. But that’s stupid. That’s beyond ridiculous. Even if – it didn’t – but even if it did, Dean knows how pregnancy works. There’s no way –

“Dean?” Sam cuts through Dean’s racing thoughts. “Are you even listening, man?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. His voice sounds weird. Does his voice sound weird? He doesn’t want Sam to know something’s wrong. Nothing’s wrong. Dean can’t bother Sam with this; his little brother’s got way too much on his mind, already. “Just bushed. You heading back soon?”

“Gonna make a few copies, first,” Sam replies.

“Great,” Dean says, barely aware of the words coming out of his mouth. “Great, yeah.”

His fingers tremble too much to find the right spot on the screen to end the call. He hears Sam hang up through the line, and, another minute, the disjointed dial tone before his phone goes black in his hand.

It’s fine. It’s perfectly fine. Dean’s just overreacting. Maybe Sammy’s not the only one who shouldn’t be hunting. He paces long trenches into the motel’s carpet. He rubs his palms against his face, wishing he could erase the thudding panic in his skull.

It takes him a minute to realize someone’s knocking on the door.

Dean’s worked up enough that he’s convinced he’s going to see Lydia on his front doorstep, so he’s thrown for the loop when he looks through the peephole and finds a teenage girl standing there. She’s got long, honey blond hair and wide green eyes. She looks innocent enough, but Dean’s not stupid. He sticks his gun in the back of his jeans before he cracks open the door.

“Who are you?” Dean asks.

“Please,” she says, voice tremulous, eyes filled with tears. “My name is Emma. And I need help.”

It’s a coincidence. It’s some kind of sick joke. This isn’t happening. None of it makes any sense.

“Emma,” he says slowly. “Why do you need help?”

“They’re after me,” she whispers, voice convincingly horrified. “Please. You’re the only one who can help me.”

“How do you know who I am?” Dean asks curtly. He only opens the door wide enough to stick his head into the parking lot. There’s no sign of danger, no indication she’s been followed. Incongruously, she has a pink rolling suitcase leaning against her leg.

“They talked about you,” Emma explains. She brushes a stray tear away with her sleeve. She’s wearing a light denim jacket over a pink t-shirt and black jeans. She looks like a kid. She doesn’t look like a monster. She’s just a kid. She looks – she looks – “They said you were a hunter.”

“Yeah?” Dean breathes through the tightness in his chest. “Well, I am. And give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hunt you.”

“Don’t you know?” She swallows heavily. Her eyes are very green. Except for the hair, it’s like Dean’s looking into a mirror at his sixteen-year-old self. “Haven’t you guessed?”

“That’s not – that’s not how it works, kid,” Dean chokes out.

“Please." More tears rush down her cheeks. “You don’t understand what they’re like. They kill others who run away. Look – they hurt me!” She shakes her sleeve up her wrist, revealing an angry red burn on her skin. Dean immediately thinks of the marks Sam left on his own arms, until he recognizes the outline of the same mark cut into the victims’ chests: Harmonia's symbol. “You’re the only one who can help me,” she repeats. “Please. You’re my father –”

The word sends an electric shock up Dean’s spine, leaving his body tingling and numb. It takes two tries to open his mouth.

“Get in,” he says sharply. “Just – just sit there. Don’t move.”

Emma does as he says. She crosses into the room, suitcase bumping after her. She drops one thigh onto Dean’s bed, no longer crying, but face still red. She watches him through her large, familiar eyes.

Keeping an eye on Emma, he crosses the room and fumbles in his jacket, slung over the back of one of the chairs. He finds his flask in a pocket. He takes a swallow, needing to steady himself, but the whiskey just burns with the rest of the steady thrum in his body. He’s a live wire. He can’t think.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees a flash of metal.

“Drop it,” Dean says, spinning around in one smooth motion. He points his gun unflinchingly at Emma’s chest. Her knife, raised overhead, flashes in the lamplight. So, it wasn’t the mothers who disposed of their mates. It was the kids. Some perverted coming of age ritual, maybe.

Emma smiles. All hint of vulnerable little girl is gone, replaced by a calculating coldness that makes Dean think of Lydia, even if he can’t recall a moment where she wasn’t anything but syrupy warm with him.

“They told me you’d be on your guard,” she says, lowering the blade but not letting go. “I needed to be creative so you’d let me in.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Dean says. His voice is weak even in his own ears. God, he’s pathetic. What would Dad say? John Winchester would spit on the ground Dean walked on. Dean’s so stupid.

Emma laughs. “You think I have a choice? This is a my birthright.”

“You always have a choice,” Dean croaks. “Please, Emma, this doesn’t have to be you –”

“Be quiet,” she hisses and lunges. She predicted right: Dean’s too stunned to shoot. He dives out of the way of her blade. It’s a wicked looking curved knife. It’ll have no problem at all slicing through bone.

She’s quick. And she’s strong. She lands a one-handed hit to Dean’s shoulder and Dean crashes to the floor under the table. His head knocks against the mini fridge. His vision spins.

Twenty-nine years of hard-won instinct never to let go of his weapon means he hasn’t dropped his gun. He raises it again. His finger finds the trigger –

He sees Ben, lying in a pool of blood at his feet. Joey’s blank eyes staring at him. Ryan’s small body curled in death on the floor. Bobby John’s muffled sobs cut short. Sammy choking for breath under Dean’s hand. Dean can’t – she has his eyes. And Dean can’t. He’d rather die.

“They said you’d be harder than the others,” Emma crows, smile not leaving her face as she comes toward him again. “They were wrong.”

“Emma, please,” Dean says. Her blade comes down. He lifts his hand in a pathetic attempt to block her blow. The knife glances off his arm, slicing cleanly through his overshirt and into his skin. Burning agony erupts up his arm. Blood splatters in a stripe across the carpet. He grits out through the pain, “Baby, please –”

“Shut up!” Emma shrieks, eyes losing the coldness of a well-rehearsed fight, replaced by something wild. “Fight back!” She screams. Dean pins his bloodied arm to his chest. He lifts his right hand, still holding the gun but no longer pointed at her. He can’t make himself let go of the grip.

With a formless shout of anger, Emma lunges for him. Her hands close around his shoulders and haul him off the floor. With inhuman strength, she hurls him against the opposite wall. Dean’s head hits the plaster hard. It makes his vision black out. When he blinks himself sluggishly back to himself, he’s flat on the ground, staring up at Emma as she looms over him, knife furled at her side and ugly curl to her lip.

“You’re weak,” she spits at him. She bends over his body, kneels atop his chest so he can feel her steady weight pinning him to the ground. She’s small. She’s so fucking small. “If you’re so eager to die, then, I’ll be merciful,” she says. She lifts her blade to his throat. Dean feels its sting as he swallows; his whiskers scrape against the edge. “I won’t make you suffer like the others.”

There’s a bang and a crash from across the room. Emma’s head whips around, but she’s too slow. A gunshot cracks through the motel room, sharp enough to shake the glass in the window. Emma’s forehead shatters outward. For a moment, there’s a perfect look of shock on the remainder of her face until she slumps sideways.

Dean reacts on instinct. His sits up to catch her. His arms wrap around her thin frame. Her bloodied head dips forward and comes to rest on his shoulder.

“Dean –” Sam says from the doorway, gun smoking in his hand.

“No,” Dean mutters. Blood pumps out of the wound in his arm. It leaves him shivering and dizzy.

“Fuck,” Sam says. He crosses to Dean’s side. “Are you okay? Shit – shit. Don’t move.”

Dean doesn’t move. He doesn’t let go of Emma – his daughter. His daughter. She remains lifeless against his chest.

Sam rushes to the duffle bag on the table. He comes back with a spool of gauze.

“Sam,” Dean mumbles.

“Let go of her,” Sam says, reaching for Emma’s body. “Dean – let go.”

“Sam.”

Sam lifts Emma away from Dean’s arms. “She – she’s young,” Sam says unsteadily.

Sam doesn’t know, Dean realizes. Dean closes his eyes. He’s covered in blood. It leaks from his arm, covering his lap with a small pool. Emma left a trail of blood across his shoulder and chest. Sam doesn’t know.

“Sam.”

Dean can’t talk. He can’t make himself say anything else.

“Fuck,” Sam says, picking up Dean’s arm. The pain is an unstoppable thrum, but Dean somehow barely notices it. His daughter. His daughter. “This is really deep. You’re going into shock, Dean.”

Sam works quickly. They don’t have time. Someone’s bound to have heard the gunshot and called the cops. Dean and Sam need to move. They need to get out. They need to take care of the – the body.

“Sam,” Dean whispers. Sam pulls the bandage tight around Dean’s arm. It makes another shock of pain tremble through his body. “It wasn’t Lydia.”

“Who’s Lydia?” Sam asks. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Listen to me,” Dean says hoarsely. He brings up his good hand. He clutches the collar of Sam’s shirt. Sam’s face is pale. He looks scared. “It wasn’t – it wasn’t Lydia.”

“Who was she?” Sam asks. He gulps.

“She – she’s mine,” Dean whispers.

“I don’t understand,” Sam replies.

“She’s mine.”

“No,” Sam says. He shakes his head. “No.” He sits on his heels away from Dean. “That’s not possible. No, Dean.”

“S-Sammy,” Dean says. God, Sammy. “She – she’s –”

“It said they have exceptionally short gestation periods,” Sam says, voice less than a breath, feverish and rapid. “Some said a week, others said a matter of days. Then the – the child grew at an accelerated rate until they reached sexual maturity. They – they –”

“Stop talking,” Dean orders. He can’t – he can’t breathe.

“Oh my God,” Sam gulps. “Oh my God – Dean – Dean.” Dean’s baby brother sounds horrified. Dean meets his eyes and he finds Sam’s face is white with terror and disgust. “I didn’t know,” he says at once. “I didn’t know. I swear. She was going to kill you.”

“She was my – she was –”

“She was killing you,” Sam says again. “Dean, I didn’t know.”

There is dead silence. Dean sways with a renewed sense of vertigo.

“We need to leave,” Sam mutters. “Before – the cops.”

“Help me up,” Dean says.

Without a word, Sam grips Dean’s good arm and pulls him back to his feet. Dean totters for a second, vision blurring out again, but he steadies himself on Sam’s shoulder. Silently, Dean shuffles to the bed. Awkwardly, he fumbles the comforter off one-handed. He tugs the flat sheet away from the bed. Equally silent, Sam bends to help him.

Sheet free, Dean eases himself to the floor. The change in altitude makes his head pulse with sickening pain. He spreads out the sheet. He carefully rolls Emma’s body over. She’s small, he thinks again. She’s so fucking tiny.

Half her face is ruined. Dean tries not to look at it as he closes her remaining eye. He eases her hair out from behind her, spreading it in two neat tresses over her shoulders. Its full of blood. Dean wishes he had time to clean her up. He rolls her into the sheet. One-armed, he can’t lift her.

Sam helps, lips pressed tightly together, no longer meeting Dean’s eye. They carry her out to the car together. Dean supports her upper body. Sam follows with her legs. She’s barely five feet long. She fits without trouble in the backseat of the Impala.

Dean sees faces watching them from the windows in the motel. He knows the police will hear about two men carrying out a small body in the parking lot. Still silent, Sam gets behind the wheel. Dean slumps in the passenger side. His arm throbs. Blood is starting to seep through the bandage.

They don’t drive long before Sam pulls over. They’re on a narrow side road, surrounded by towering conifers and darkness. The wind makes the tips of the trees sway like giant, marching shadows across the night sky.

“Dean…” Sam finally breaks the silence.

Dean doesn’t respond. He gets out of the car and moves to the back. He opens the door and, with difficulty, pulls Emma into his arms. His head clangs with insistent pain as he moves. His fingers on his left hand are numb. Dean stalks off the side of the road and into the woods, cradling his daughter to his chest. He hears the creak of the Impala’s front door as Sam hurries to follow him. A moment later, there’s the thud of the trunk and then the crackle of Sam’s feet on the frost-covered ground.

Dean walks until the dizziness threatens to send him to his knees. Sam drops his shovel in his haste to keep Dean upright. They’ve reached a clearing in the woods. Dean can see the stars above them, cold and distant and startlingly bright outside the light pollution of the city proper.

“I’ll do it,” Sam tells him, pushing him to rest against a tree. Dean sits there, ass growing numb with cold, Emma’s stiffened body in his lap, as Sam digs a hole. Sam moves quickly. By the time he’s done, sweat gleams on his forehead and he’s breathing hard, every puff sending smoke drifting toward the stars.

“You want me…?”

Dean doesn’t answer. He gets up to his knees, body protesting, now stiff with cold. He thinks, distantly, he’s shivering, but he’s not sure. Everything is distant. Everything is cold and numb. Sam helps Dean roll Emma gently into the pit.

Sam reveals a jug of accelerant. He works quietly as he spills the lighter fluid after Emma. It stains the white sheet dark. Salt comes next. Sam picks out a lighter from his pocket.

Dean wants to take it from him, but he can’t move. He holds his injured arm tight against his chest with his other. He’s definitely shaking, now, trembling so hard his teeth clatter.

Sam flicks the lighter. A flame jumps to life, momentarily casting his face into distorted shadow and light, like a skull.

The lighter drops. The body ignites.

It should be a hunter’s funeral, Dean thinks. She was a hunter. She deserves a pyre. Will she be missed? He wonders. Will the other Amazons come looking for her when she doesn’t return from her mission? Will Lydia mourn her, or was she nothing more than another duty in a strange, ritualized life?

“Come on,” Sam says softly. Dean sees the pit has burned to embers. Smoke curls into the air. Dean can smell it. He’ll always be able to recognize the stench of burning flesh. “You’re freezing, man.”

Sam leads Dean back to the car. He leaves him in the passenger seat with their emergency blanket wrapped around his shoulders. A moment later he returns again, smelling like earth and cold and smoke. Sam tells Dean to hold a flashlight in his good hand and, in the pool of light, stitches up Dean’s arm. Dean watches it happen as if it’s someone else. He feels the burn of the antiseptic and the sting of the needle, but it’s too far to touch.

Finally, Sam gets back behind the wheel. They drive through the night, unspeaking.

Stream Dean's half-way house for more Emma

[intercoursefluids]

can i get jason x adrien, with jason telling adrien about what happen to him and what he does as red hood, showing his scars as well? but adrien is all patient and understanding, and he isn't disgusted about all the killing and he isn't scared of jason. adrien is tracing the scars and pressing little soft kisses on them.

First and for most: I AM SO FUCKING SORRY I FORGOT THIS WAS HERE

Secondly: I hope you enjoy, I live in shame for taking so long on this I hope you still want it (This was requested June 30)

Thirdly: I can't think of a title for this someone start spitting out ideas

“You called for me?”

Jason nods from his spot on the couch, not looking up as Adrien came closer, fiddling with the sleeves of his long sleeve shirt

Adrien takes a seat next to him, taking one of his hands in his own and soothingly rubbing his thumb up and down the back of it.

“What’s wrong, Jay?”

Jason takes a deep breath, pulling his hand from Adrien’s and standing up.

“Remember a while back? You asked me why I always wear long sleeve shirts and jackets?”

Adrien hesitantly nods, wondering why the subject came up so suddenly.

“Do, do you still want to know?”

Adrien reaches out, putting his hand on Jason’s arm and waiting until he looks at him.

“I only want to know what you want to tell me. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Jason nods, taking a shaky breath and shaking out his hands, gripping the edge of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

Pale scars litter Jason’s body, some large, some small. A few are smooth lines, from beginning to end, others are jagged, looking more like rips than cuts. Some of the bigger scars have little dots on their edges, showing the spots where stitches once were.

Jason puts his arms out to his side, turning in a slow circle, exposing the scars on his sides and finally, his autopsy scars.

The largest scar on his body, stretching from his collar bones down to the waistband of his jeans in a Y shape.

Adrien gasps, one hand covering his mouth as the other hesitantly reaches out to Jason.

He gently touches the long scar, trailing his hand up until it rests against Jason’s chest, looking up to meet his eyes.

There is so much pain in them that Adrien almost pulls away, briefly believing that the scar still causes him physical pain, no matter how old it looked.

“These are my autopsy scars. I died a long time ago. The only reason I am even bringing this up is because I love you so fucking much Adrien. And I know, if I want this relationship to go further, or even to just continue, you need to know everything.”

Adrien grabbed Jason’s hands, pulling him back down to sit on the couch beside him, shifting his entire body to face him.

“I’m listening.”

Jason did his best to explain everything, from the time he was a street kid all the way up until he met Adrien. Several times he had to take a break, walking around the apartment, getting something to eat or drink, one time Adrien actually just forced him to sit, holding his hand while he breathed.

At the end of his explanation he just looked so worn out, exhausted, and the most fragile Adrien had ever seen him.

He sat just out of reach from him, huddled up on his corner of the couch, refusing to look at him even as he called out to him.

Adrien reached for him, pulling his face into his hands and kissing him softly, taking his time as he stroked the apples of his cheeks.

“Don’t you hate me now?”

Adrien pulled away some, smiling gently at Jason’s tearful expression.

“Why would I hate you?”

Jason pulls away from him, running a hand through his hair.

“I-I’ve killed people Adrien! I have destroyed lives and ruined people! I am practically a walking beacon of destruction! I mean look at me-” he gestured to his autopsy scars “-I… I honestly figured you would be running for the hills by now.”

Adrien stifled a snort, promising himself to talk to his lady on sharing his identity with him as soon as possible, but for now, comforting him would have to work.

“Jason, number one, I am intimately familiar with death and destruction, number two, I don’t find your scars nearly as hideous as you seem to think I should, I think they're beautiful.”

Adrien reached out, putting his hand on the scars, tracing the lines all across his body before leaning down to kiss them.

“You’ve survived so much, you are so strong, Jay. These scars prove how strong you are, prove that you still came back from the worst of humanity. Why would I love you any less for it? You’re beautiful, and you are so good. Don’t let anyone, not even yourself, convince you that you are evil because you got lost in doing what you thought was right.”

Jason was crying in earnest then, pulling Adrien away from his chest to kiss him soundly on the lips, pulling him into his lap and wrapping himself around him in a crushing hug.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you but it wasn’t enough. I love you so fucking much Adrien, thank you. Thank you for not hating me.”

Adrien pressed their foreheads together, closing his eyes with his hand on Jason’s chest, feeling his heartbeat against his palm.

“I won’t leave you Jason, I love you too much for that.”

Taglist:

@Vroomtaka

@rosesandsailboats

(If you want to be added to the tag list please specify if it is for a specific story or for my writing in general)

[scuttling]

(Not So) Casual Friday

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 4,456 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch (it's not a main component but he very much has the tummy here), Pining, Accidentally admitting attraction, Embarrassment, A little angst, Oral sex, Protected sex Summary: Your best friend Derek finds out about your feelings for Hotch and teases you mercilessly. You can manage it, though, until the first ever Casual Friday, when Hotch shows up to work in a black polo and jeans and you kind of ruin everything. Or maybe you don't? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Okay, girlie, today’s the day,” Derek says when you set your bag and coffee cup on your desk on Monday morning. You shoot your best friend a tired smile and wonder for the—you’ve worked at the BAU for almost two years, so it’s probably the 500th time—for the 500th time why he has to be such a morning person when you would prefer not to have a conversation until at least 10 AM.

“Today’s the day for what?” you sigh, asking out of obligation, because it’s obvious that’s what he’s waiting for; he smiles, picks up your coffee and hands it to you, which must mean you sound bitchy. You take a grateful sip, close your eyes and exhale through your nose.

“For you to admit to me that you’re in love with Hotch.”

You spit out your coffee—only all over yourself, which is great, wouldn’t want to inconvenience Derek at all—and then cough so hard he has to thump on your back to help clear your airway.

It draws some attention; Hotch comes out of his office, takes a look at the two of you and probably regrets hiring the both of you, then walks down the stairs to make sure you’re okay.

“What happened? You’re wet,” he says a bit gruffly, looking at the coffee all over your chest and sleeves. You glare over at Derek, who’s clearly trying not to laugh.

“Derek made me spill my coffee.” You grab a handful of tissues off your desk and pat at the wet spot, trying to soak up the worst of it, but it’s not salvageable. You’ll have to change your shirt.

“And then you… choked on it?” Hotch asks, to clarify. Derek does laugh at that; the things Hotch is saying happen to have dual meanings, slightly sexual, and now that Derek knows—thinks he knows—about your thing for Hotch, it’s clear he finds it all so hilarious. He’s a twelve year old boy in a grown man’s body.

“Okay, I didn’t spill, I spit,” you correct, looking up at them, and Derek makes an exaggerated face of disapproval.

“Should have swallowed,” he says, trying to sound serious, and you shoot him an irritated look and reach out to slap him in the chest. Asshole.

“Do you need help getting cleaned up?” Hotch’s expression is kind, sweet, but you’d sooner die than have him blot coffee off of your boobs. It would be mortifying, especially in front of Derek.

“No, no, I think I’m okay. Thanks,” you add with a soft smile, and then you reach up and pull your sweater over your head, unzip your go bag, and search for another top.

For some reason, Hotch has a coughing fit scarily similar to the one you just had, and you turn to pat his back like Derek did for you.

“Are you alright?” you ask, looking up into his face, and he nods despite his watering eyes.

“Fine,” he croaks, and he leaves as quickly as he came. You sigh, because it’s not even nine and your day has already been so weird.

You’re wearing a tank top, and thankfully the coffee didn’t get through to that layer, so it’s quick and easy to throw another lightweight sweater over top of it; you ball up the wet one, shove it in the dirty clothes portion of your bag, zip it up and stash it under your desk. Derek looks like he’s having the best day of his life.

“You realize you just undressed in front of Hotch,” he says with a tone you don’t appreciate. You roll your eyes.

“I did not. I had a tank top on underneath.” You almost always wear an undershirt, because you’ve been a cop long enough to know that sometimes your clothes get torn or messed up in the line of duty, and you’re not trying to offer a free show while taking down an unsub. Derek wiggles his eyebrows, points at your chest.

“Yeah, one that put those little boobies on display. His eyes bulged out of his head like a cartoon character.” This time, you punch him in the arm, hard. It’s too goddamn early for this.

“Can you please shut up already? I don’t have a thing for Hotch.”

“Ah, I didn’t say you had a thing, I said you’re in love with him. And I have evidence; lots of it.” You tip your head back, groan, wondering what you did to deserve a best friend who is also such a pain in the ass, and it’s that moment that Hotch chooses to rejoin you; he looks a little flushed, probably from the coughing earlier.

“Uh. We have a case; I know not everyone is here yet, but you can head up to the briefing room, I’ll grab the others when they arrive.”

“Sure thing, sir,” you say easily, grabbing your tablet and what’s left of your coffee; you gesture for Derek and he follows, laughing and shaking his head. “Okay, what is it now? I’m so glad you find me entertaining today.”

“‘Sure thing, sir,’” he says with a high, breathy voice you assume is supposed to mimic yours. “You want his dick so bad.” You narrow your eyes at him as you head upstairs.

“Uh, because I was being respectful? I know that’s a foreign concept for you, the world’s biggest asshole, but you don’t have to read anything into it.” You take your usual seats at the table, pull up the note-taking app on your tablet, and Derek sits back, crosses his arms behind his head.

“Well you’re not calling me ‘sir’, and I’m the sexiest piece in the office, so it’s hard not to read into it.” You look over at him, elbow on the table, chin in the palm of your hand.

“Sexy is subjective, and you don’t do it for me, sorry to break it to you.” He scoffs, laughs, and you laugh too because you both know you see each other as brother and sister, buddies, and fellow former cops, and absolutely nothing else.

“Yeah, I get it, only Hotch does it for you; he’s not my type, but I can see how a young lady like yourself could be drawn to his brooding exterior.”

“I’m not drawn to his exterior!” you practically growl, and then you’re joined by Spencer and JJ.

“Good morning. What’s going on with you two?” JJ asks, loading up the monitors for the debriefing, her eyebrows raised.

“She’s in love with Hotch,” Derek says completely nonchalantly, and you rest your head on the table, on top of your forearms, and sigh.

“She’s what?” JJ’s whole face lights up, and you seriously regret everything.

“I’m not in love with anybody!” you mumble against your arms, and then you sit up, because you’re clearly going to have to defend yourself. “And I’d appreciate it if you quit saying that I am.”

“I told you I have evidence,” Derek reminds you, leaning back in his chair a little. One swift kick would have him toppling ass over tea kettle, but you’re too nice, even when he’s actively trying to ruin your life. “Shall I go over it while we wait?”

“I’ll be an objective third party,” Spencer says with a brief smile, and you sigh, wave your hand toward Derek.

“Alright, let’s hear it. I’m sure I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for whatever evidence you might think you have.” He grins like this is the moment he’s been waiting for, and you feel a little stupid for encouraging this.

“For one, you always look at him. When I’m delivering a profile, I notice you watching the locals, making sure they understand what we’re going over, since you're the queen of analyzing the micro expressions. But when Hotch is delivering a profile, your eyes are on him the whole time. Same goes for discussing theories on the jet; anyone else, and you’ve got your face in your tablet, scribbling notes, but you always look at him when he speaks.”

Your cheeks get hot. He’s a captivating speaker, is all, with that deep, velvety voice, and you can learn a lot from him, so you pay attention. That’s just being smart.

“Second, you tense when he gets close to you: not like you don’t want him to touch you, but like you’re halfway to jumping him already and trying to control it. I could probably put my hand in your pocket and you wouldn't even flinch, but if he leans over you to point at something you look like you’re about to cream your pants.”

“I have seen that, actually,” JJ offers, and you look over at her, betrayed. Sure, you get a whiff of his clean, crisp cologne, or feel the heat of him at your back, and your body reacts, reminds you that this is your boss and you’re at work and you can’t get turned on by the way he smells, but that’s actually a good thing, not an indicator of feelings or anything.

“Third, there’s something up with you and the gray suits. I can literally tell that he’s wearing one before I even see him, all because of the look on your face. It’s like you’re drunk on the gray suit.”

“Okay, that’s not true,” you say with a roll of your eyes—the gray suits are god tier, but there’s no way you’re that obvious—but it’s Spencer who speaks up, this time.

“You know, I have noticed that. Your pupils tend to be more dilated when his suit is gray or blue than when it’s black.” Fuck. You sigh.

“He barely ever wears the blue. It looks so good on him,” you murmur, and then you snap your eyes shut, cover your face with your hands. “Fuck. This is so embarrassing.”

“To be fair, we are profilers,” Derek says, leaning in to pat your back. “But also to be fair, he’s been a profiler longer than any of us, so if we know, he definitely knows.”

“Not helping, Derek,” you grind out, and then you’re joined by the rest of the team. Penelope takes the seat next to you, leans in with a worried tone of voice.

“Is everything okay?”

“She’s having a small crisis, but she’ll be fine,” JJ says with a smile, and you don’t miss the way Hotch looks you over when she says it, concern in his eyes. “Alright, so we’re headed to Arkansas…”

Later that morning, when you’ve been given your instructions—yours are heading to the crime scene with Emily and Derek—Hotch pulls you out into the hall, rests a gentle hand on your arm.

“Are you alright? JJ mentioned you were having a crisis earlier. This is the first time I’ve been able to get you alone, and I wanted to check on you.” You take a deep breath, look up at him, so handsome in a black suit, white shirt, green tie—he almost never wears a green tie, and you absently think it brings out the more golden tones of his eyes—and smile softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s really nothing. Personal stuff, and I’m dealing with it.” If by ‘dealing with it’ you mean you’ve been repressing it, shoving it down day in and day out until your feelings are choking you, then yeah, you’re dealing with it. “Thanks for checking, though, that’s kind of you.”

“Of course. I’m here to help in any way I can, if you need me.” Good god, do you need him, emotionally, physically, but that’s fantasy, and this, what he’s offering, is rooted in reality. Good things do happen, but not to you.

“Thanks.” Your voice is weak to your own ears, and he swallows, nods; you see Derek hovering by the door, waiting for you, and you pull away to join him, plastering a smile on your face. You don’t talk about it again until Friday, and at that point it’s extremely unavoidable.

It’s Casual Friday, newly implemented by the bureau as a way to boost morale, and while it doesn’t really excite you, because you’re fairly casual anyway, others take full advantage of it. Others, including Hotch.

He shows up to work wearing a black polo and dark jeans, his usual watch. It’s easily the most simplistic, basic outfit a man could decide to wear on Casual Friday, but this isn’t just a man, it’s Aaron fucking Hotchner, and so naturally, you lose your damn mind.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the damn polo didn’t fit him perfectly, tight across his shoulders and chest and the little tummy he has that makes you want to be under him so badly, your stomachs pressed together while he thrusts inside you, holding you tightly, his strong thighs working against yours…

“Hello, are you alive in there?” Emily asks, waving her hand in front of your face; the two of you, along with Derek, are in Penelope’s office for lunch while Rossi, Reid, and JJ are out of the office for a seminar. You blink, shake away your thoughts and hope and pray they don’t come back—but they’ll come back, they always do.

“She’s just short circuiting because of Hotch’s Casual Friday look,” Morgan says with a wink, sitting backward in his seat. “She’s been drooling so much I’ve had to follow her around with a mop to clean up after her.” You push your wheeled chair away from them with a groan, needing space and air and, potentially, a brain transplant. You’ve gotten nothing done all day long.

“Can you blame me? The man comes in here everyday, buttoned up tight, looking incredible in a suit and tie, and then he shows up in that black polo, all snug and hot and delicious, and you expect me not to freak out? You guys are lucky I didn’t pass out.” You’re met with silence, and you blink, confused, at your friends, but they’re all just kind of staring with looks of barely concealed humor. “What? It’s not like it’s a secret that I want to climb him like a tree.”

“Pretty sure it was a secret to him,” Penelope says, looking shocked, and you whip around in your chair to see Hotch standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and a little flushed.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I, uh—” He raises a hand, waves you off.

“It’s okay. No harm done; thank you, for the, uh. Compliment.” He steps forward, hands a manila folder to Penelope. “Thanks for taking care of these,” he says softly, and then, unsurprisingly, he gets the hell out of there. You wish you could disappear off the face of the Earth.

“Fuck, holy fuck,” you mutter when he’s gone, leaning forward with your head in your hands. “That’s it, I’m quitting. It’s been nice knowing you guys.”

“Okay, don’t be dramatic,” Derek says, and you look up to glare at him; he’s the one that started all this in the first place. You were fine, feelings tamped down and suppressed, until he brought it up and then told everyone you know.

“Don’t tell me not to be dramatic, Derek! This is all your fault. You never respect my boundaries, you never know when to just let me be, you always have to pick and pick until you wear me down. Maybe I had a reason for wanting to keep my feelings private, did you ever think of that?”

“I know you're upset,” Emily begins softly, because there’s some pretty thick tension between you and Derek now, but you stand up, push your chair across the room, and shake your head.

“I’m not upset, I’m fucking humiliated. I’m going home; let him know I’m sick, will you?” You exhale deeply, storm upstairs and grab your stuff and drive home with tears in your eyes. You’ve never been so embarrassed in your life, and add that to the absolute heartbreak you’re feeling? You’re just happy you make it to your apartment, so you can break down with cheesecake and a sappy, romantic comedy with a happy ending: those perfect, fictional worlds are pretty much the only place one is guaranteed. You are, as planned, hunkered down on the sofa in your softest pajamas, watching You’ve Got Mail and eating the center out of an entire cheesecake with a spoon when there’s a knock at your door. You groan, pick up your cheesecake tin, and walk over to it, fully expecting it to be Derek come to beg for forgiveness for ruining your life, so it’s no surprise you drop your dessert on the floor when it’s actually Hotch on the other side.

He looks down at the tin, then up at your face, cracks the barest hint of a smile.

“I thought you were sick; I brought soup,” he says, holding up a paper bag, and your heart thumps in your chest. You wipe a hand over your face, because you haven’t been exactly neat in your heartache cheesecake consumption, and then you kick the tin across the floor and invite him in, closing the door behind him.

“I thought it was obvious that I wasn’t actually sick, just… really embarrassed,” you say when he turns back to look at you. “I can’t believe you heard all that stuff I said… I’m really sorry I made you uncomfortable.” You take the bag from his hand and invite him to follow you into the kitchen, where you set it on the counter, lean against it. He comes close, but not so close you can’t function, which is good; your comfy pajamas are shorts and a loose tank top, so you feel a little exposed already.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he says softly, and you frown, must have heard him wrong. He presses his fingertips against the counter, as if for support. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was… unexpected,” he explains, “very unexpected, but I’m not uncomfortable.”

You flush hot, and you can feel the bad decision part of your brain switching on, warning bells ringing in your head.

Whatever you do next has the potential to be extremely stupid, and you would like to avoid that at all costs; you love your job, after all, despite how physically and emotionally exhausting it can be, and you love your team. Time to think with your upstairs brain only.

“That makes me feel a little better,” you say truthfully, and despite the pep talk you just gave yourself, you move closer to him like there’s an invisible magnetic force between you; you would imagine a guy like Hotch would step back, keep his distance, but he only cranes his neck a little so he can look down at you more easily.

God, he’s tall. And he smells good, and his face is perfect, and that goddamn polo...

“Good, I’m glad. I don’t want you to feel bad about this. I’m not uncomfortable, it’s not… it’s not unwanted.” You swallow audibly, looking up at him, wondering if he knows what he’s saying, what it sounds like.

“It’s not?” you ask, and it comes out breathy; he takes a small step closer to you, brushes his fingers over your arm, peers into your eyes.

“No, it’s not. I’ve been thinking of you, too; I know you know you’re beautiful, but you’re also so smart, and strong-willed, and a force to be reckoned with. I’m proud to have you on my team, and I’d be proud… to have you climb me like a tree.” He smiles again, just the barest hint of one, and you put your arms around him and pull him closer for a kiss.

One long, slow, perfect kiss turns into another, then another, and he presses your back against the counter, his hands on your face and your hands on his thick waist; you hum into the kiss, revel in the feel of his lips on yours, his tongue sweeping past them, and when you pull back for air it feels like there’s only one question that needs to be asked.

“Bedroom?” you breathe, and he nods, and you take his hand and pull him in that direction, pausing to kiss him several times before you get there. “You don’t happen to have a condom, do you?” you ask, breathless, guiding him to the bed, and he frowns, shakes his head.

“I didn’t want to seem presumptuous.” You grin at that, lean forward and kiss him, your fingers in his hair.

“I find it so hot that you even say presumptuous. I might have one here somewhere.” You open your nightstand, move around books and toys until you find a couple; you flip them over, checking to see if they’re expired, and offer him a couple options. “They’re still good, surprisingly. You can, uh. Choose the one that would work best.”

He looks them over, picks one and hands back the rest, and you throw them back in the drawer and slide into his lap, wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says, holding your waist as you look down at him, completely in awe that this is happening. “But I want to clarify: if you’re looking for something casual, I don’t think we should go any further.” You inhale softly, surprised by his straightforwardness, and you lean in, kiss him slowly.

“I don’t want casual. I want to be with you.” His eyes are so brilliant, dark in the dim light of your bedroom, and he nods, presses his lips to yours and slides his hands beneath your top, guides it over your head. Then they move to your shorts, slipping them gently off your hips, and you stand so he can push them to the ground.

You’re both breathing heavily, a little rough, and you step between his legs, kiss him again, run your hands down his chest, closing your eyes with a sigh because you finally get to feel him after a year of just imagining what it would be like. After a beat, you open your eyes, look into his, smile.

“Really grateful for Casual Friday,” you whisper. “Otherwise you might never have found out I’m kind of in love with you.” You ease the polo over his head, drop it on the ground and encourage him to stand so you can take off his pants; he does, but before you can drop to your knees as planned, he takes your face in his hands, presses one soft kiss against your mouth.

“I’m more than kind of in love with you.” Oh, if that isn’t the greatest sentence your ears have ever heard… You wrap your arms around his neck, kiss a little more, forgetting that you planned to finish undressing him; when you remember, you make quick work of it, then have him lay back against the bed and settle between his legs.

You put your mouth on him because you want to, more than anything, and his hand drops to your hair, caressing you while you suck slowly, deeply, holding him with one hand and pressing against his stomach with the other. His moans are soft and gorgeous, his body tense beneath your hand, and you’d do this all night, but he murmurs your name, coaxes you up, puts his hands on your back as you settle against him.

“You’re so incredible. I never would have imagined I’d get this, get you,” he breathes, skimming his hands over your sides and hips, and you kiss softly, steamy and sweet.

“Me neither.” You lean up, make space for him to roll on the condom, and then press him inside; your breath hitches, and so does his, and you lay on top of him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, arms around each other tightly while you move. “Hmm. Aaron,” you sigh, hair falling around him, and he groans, digs his fingertips into your hips.

“Sounds so perfect coming out of your mouth.” You smile, but it slips away when he surges up to kiss you, leans up so he’s sitting with you in his lap. He slides a broad hand up your back, wraps it around the nape of your neck, and pumps his hips up as you sink down, eliciting a series of soft, eager moans from the both of you.

“Feels like I’ve waited so long; I’ve never wanted someone as badly as I wanted you,” you tell him, chest heaving, and he brings you to him for a kiss, something a little rougher, less refined. He’s getting close.

“Never. You make me feel so much.” You reach back against his leg for support, work harder to bring him off, and when he comes he crushes his mouth against yours, delicious and more uncontrolled than you’ve ever seen him. He chants your name, so soft and sweet rolling off of his tongue, and then gets you on your back so he can press deeply inside.

You feel so incredibly full, panting beneath him, your hands on his waist and your feet on the backs of his thighs; his perfect face is inches from yours, all shallow breaths and decadent, passionate kisses, and when you climax you pull him closer, sigh, unravel completely in his embrace.

Maybe good things do happen after all. You hold each other and talk for a while, after a quick pitstop to the restroom, and then your stomach growls—understandably, since the only thing to fill it since lunch was that stupid cheesecake—and Hotch orders takeout on his phone from bed; god bless technology.

There’s a knock at the door twenty minutes later, and you know that’s quick for your favorite Thai place, but you’re not complaining because you’re officially starving. He offers to grab it, throws on his boxers and heads for the living room; after a few minutes, you wonder what’s taking so long, pull on your robe and go to check on him.

Hotch is talking to Derek, who is standing in your living room with a piece of cheesecake and a shit eating grin.

“I came with a peace offering, but now I think I’ll wait for a, ‘Thank you, Derek,’” he says, and you roll your eyes, stalk over and take the cheesecake out of his hands. You give it to Hotch, lean up to kiss Derek on the cheek, and push him toward the door.

“Thank you, Derek. Go away, Derek,” you say with a smile of your own, and he raises his palms and retreats down the hall, laughing as he goes.

This is just one more thing he’ll tease you mercilessly about, but this time the benefits outweigh the costs. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner

[seiyasabi]

Fixation

(This is a Yandere Yelena x Fem Reader story ;)) This takes place in a Modern AU outside of the anime, and I won’t justify my reasoning lmao 

TW: Coercion, !Drugging!, Manipulation, !Noncon!, !Dubcon!, Daddy kink (ehehe), spanking, she’s a straight up Dom w her tall ass, kinda a meanie, degradation!, handcuffs!, use of sex toys!, Overstim!, size kink!, dumbification?, unwanted filming!, etc.. 

Proceed with caution! Sorry if this is too self indulgent lmao, when women (lesbians) talk to me, I become the biggest idiot to ever exist :)) ) 

Today wasn’t the best day to wear a skirt. 

Begrudgingly smoothing down the lilac fabric of your skirt, you huff indignantly. All you wanted to do was look cute for your crush, Marco, but it seems that that was too much to ask for. 

Your white sweater, at least, keeps you somewhat warm from the harsh wind. It’s tucked into the waistband of your high waisted skirt, and your thigh high socks push the fat of your cute thighs out slightly. The sound of your white sneakers against the pavement is drowned out by your classmates’ loud voices, and you’re seemingly unaware of a certain black-eyed glare. 

Seeing your classroom come into view, you hurry inside, sliding into your lab assigned seat. Eyeing the dark haired male of your dreams, you can’t help but sigh pathetically at the fact that he hasn’t noticed you. Up until recently, the two of you were great friends-always hanging out and texting one another. But, the moment the both of you picked up this class, everything changed. 

Hearing the seat next to you slide open, you glance up at your seatmate. Smiling up at the tall woman, you greet her kindly, “Hi, Lena! How’re you today?” 

The Russian exchange student smirks down at you, as she plops onto the seat, “Good, now that you’re here.” 

Laughing at her gruff words, you wave her off, “You always say that,” Zipping open your backpack, you pull out your class notes, “What’re you going to do this weekend?”

Her smirk widens, dark eyes gleaming, “Why? Asking me on a date?” You laugh once more, completely oblivious to her hopeful tone. 

“You’re so funny, Lena,” Pulling out your pack of multicoloured pens, you start to set up for your class, “I just heard you speaking with Annie about ‘something big’ the other day, so I became curious.” 

Not one to acknowledge boundaries, the blonde woman starts to play with your (hair/sweater), “I’m throwing a party, one you should come to,” Her tone leaves no room to negotiate, but you don’t really notice. Nodding, you smile up at her. 

“Sounds fun! When is it and who’s going?” Her hand trails down to your thigh, fiddling with your sock. Brushing off your mild alarm at her ministrations, you justify her actions through your cultural differences. 

“Tonight at eight. Annie and her friends should be there, same with Marco and a few others,” She name dropped the kind man on purpose, knowing your misguided infatuation with him. If only you knew how much of a pussy he is. All she did was threaten him once, and suddenly he stayed clear of you. It made her life easier, sure, but it annoyed her that he dropped you like a gutted fish. You’re too good for that. 

Pulling out your phone, you pull up your calendar, showcasing that you have no plans this evening, “Okay, I can go!” 

Her smirk grows wider than before, “Great,” Yelena’s accent seemingly grows thicker, her r rolling more harshly than before. 

With that, class begins without a hitch; Yelena’s hand still glued to your perfect thigh. 

-

Stepping out of your car, you readjust your new outfit. Keeping the thigh highs from earlier, you changed your lilac skirt for a black, body con one, along with a cropped, black long sleeve shirt that accentuates your cleavage. 

Slamming your car door shut, you lock it with your key, before heading towards Yelena’s luxurious flat. You can hear low music and voices from her open top floor balcony, multiple shadows moving inside her home. 

With a fast beating heart, you can’t help but hope that Marco will speak with you tonight. With that hope deep in your chest, you step inside the fancy building’s lobby. Approaching the front desk, you go to show them your ID, but are met with brightly smiling faces. 

“Go on up to the tenth floor, (Your Name)! Yelena already told us that you’re coming!” Surprise overcomes your form. Why do they know you by appearance alone? You’ve never even been here before. 

“Oh, okay! Thank you,” Deciding to ignore the weird situation at hand, you head towards the lift. Pressing the button, you wait a few moments, before stepping into the open lift doors. The sleek metal walls reflect your appearance back at you, whilst you press the pristine ‘10’ button. With a small beep, the lift begins to move, practically flying at top speed to the top floor. 

Once at the tenth floor, the doors fly open, showing what looks to be a living room. You can’t help but gawk at the large flat displayed before you. Your classmate must be quite wealthy to afford a place like this. 

You awkwardly make your way inside, and are immediately greeted by the party’s host, “Hey, (Your Name), welcome!” You’re side hugged by a buff arm, practically slammed into Yelena’s torso. 

“Hey, thanks for having me!” You pat her back in an attempt to have her let you go, but instead, it seems to spur her on. She drags you towards a large L-shaped couch, which is filled by Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt. A handful of others sit at her dining room table and kitchen counter, the open concept allowing everyone to see and speak to each other comfortably. 

Reiner glances up from the story he’s telling Historia and Ymir, a grin painting his handsome features, “Whoa, that’s a new look for you, (Your Name)!” 

Multiple eyes are suddenly glued to your now self conscious form, an uneasy smile on your face, “Hello, everyone.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you look great! It’s just really different from your normal, cute clothes,” People nod and agree with the large man, causing you to break out in a nervous sweat. 

“Well, I hope I don’t look too bad,” You joke halfheartedly, “I just wanted to try something new.” 

Yelena takes your appearance in, practically salivating. Whilst she does enjoy your usual clothing, this look fits you quite well. 

“You look very nice,” Bertholdt reassures soothingly, patting the spot by him, “You can sit next to me, if you’d like.”

The short haired woman glued to your side reacts immediately, “No, the girl needs a drink,” Annie shoots her a knowing look, which she nods to in response. You’re practically ragdolled to the kitchen bar, as the conversation starts up once more. Once at the marble countertop, the large woman releases you in favour of pouring you a cup of spiked punch, “This is very good. Made it myself.” 

You give her a bright smile, accepting the red solo cup, “Cool! I’m sure it’s delicious!” Bringing the cup to your (lipstick/chapstick/lipgloss) coated lips, you take a small sip. A burst of fruity goodness explodes on your tastebuds, making your eyes widen in surprise. You can’t taste a drop of alcohol in it, “Wow! This is really good!” 

A proud grin overtakes her lips, as she nods her thanks, “Of course it is. I knew you were coming, after all,” You laugh in response, and take another sip of the red liquid. 

“I see! Well, you have a very nice home!” The tall woman leans against the counter, holding herself up with an arm that goes behind your form. 

“Thank you. It’s very spacious. I find myself lonely at times,” Her large, black eyes stare down at you, trying to send you a message through them alone. 

“Oh, well, have you tried getting a roommate? Maybe the flat won’t be so empty,” She nods at your words. 

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Would you be my roommate?” You laugh, thinking that she’s joking. Not bothering to look up, as you take another swig of your drink, you don’t see the somewhat hurt look on her face. 

“That would be something! Not only are we seatmates, but we’re also roommates,” You giggle some more, taking more sips of your delicious drink, “But, your flat is a lot nicer than mine. I may take up on your offer.”

Looking up, you see her grin at you approvingly, “Yes, that would be nice,” What you don’t know is that her lease is almost up, making it so she has paperwork she needs to fill out. Paperwork that would look great with your co-sign on it. 

-

Three drinks in, and you’re feeling a bit woozy. Typically, you’re not a lightweight, but it seems that you are tonight. 

Leaning your upper body onto Yelena’s strong form, you laugh hysterically at something Reiner says, “Oh my God, you’re hilarious-” You cut yourself off with a snort, causing the entire room to laugh at your cute giggling. 

The short haired woman you’re currently using as a pillow holds you tenderly, a pleased smile on her face. The stuff Annie gave her works very well. 

“Man, if you weren’t Yelena’s girl, I would’ve cuffed you a semester ago!” Reiner roars wholeheartedly, slapping the leather couch below him. 

In your cloudy mind, you barely understand the words he just said, “Haha, wha-?” 

Pushing your head into her breasts, Yelena shushes you, “My poor baby is such a lightweight,” She and the others chuckle at that understatement, “I think it’s time to turn in for the night.”

Her civil way of kicking everyone out was enough, as everyone trickles out of her luxurious flat. Once the last person leaves, Yelena stands to her feet, scooping you up in her buff arms. She goes to her lift, pressing the lock input, she types in the lock code, not allowing anyone in or out of her home. Your high mind can barely comprehend what’s going on around you. 

She hums an unknown tune, as she goes up her steps to her master bedroom. Kicking open the door, she flips on her bedroom light with her elbow, before shutting the door with her foot. Sauntering to her California King sized bed, she lays your drugged out form on her light grey coloured sheets. 

“-Lena, wha-” Your head lulls to the side as you giggle uncontrollably, “-Are- are we dating?” She hums in response, starting to pull down your skirt. 

“Yes, my Darling Girl,” She smooches your forehead, “We’ve been together since I moved here,” Pulling your skirt’s fabric down and off of your legs, she tosses it on the floor, exposing your pink panties. 

“Bu-but, I like Marco,” You weakly attempt to push her grabby hands away from you, “I-I wan’ Marco!” 

The feelings of disgust, envy, and fury overwhelm her all at once. How dare you! She’s always treated you so well, that spineless fucker doesn’t deserve anything from you! He especially doesn’t deserve your wonderful heart! 

She says nothing, grabbing your blouse, and chucking it off of you. Your breasts jiggle at her ministrations, your bra just barely containing your tits. Seeing your almost bare, perfect body makes her pussy tingle, but her anger outweighs her arousal. 

Settling on the bed, she grasps your boneless body, and pulls you over her knees. You’re still muttering and questioning the validity of your relationship, all whilst saying that horrible boy’s name, causing her to cup the fat of your ass and squeeze harshly. 

“Baby, you know better than to say those horrible things. I love you very much, and it hurts to hear you say that.” 

Your breasts, arms, and head rest over her left knee, as you try to look up at her stern face, “But-”

“No buts, you know what happens when you act like a brat,” She slaps your ass experimentally, earning a pained yelp. A small smirk covers her lips, and she hits your ass as hard as she can. 

“‘M sorry! ‘M sorry! I didn’t mean it!” Your pleading is cute, so cute. 

“I know you didn’t, Princess. But I have to remind you of your place,” She slams her hand down once more, jolting your entire body. A shrill cry leaves your lips, as you try to move off of her lap, but seemingly can’t find the strength to do so. 

After five more smacks, the blonde pulls you onto her lap in a straddling position. One of her arms wraps around your top half, pushing your crying face into her neck. The other is wrapped around your waist, hand smoothing over your bruising ass, and playing with the hem of your panties. 

“Don’t cry, Princess. You know I had to set you straight,” She coos, “Your stupid, little brain is far too gone to understand at the moment, but you will once you sober up. So, for now, let your Daddy make you feel good.” 

You mutter nonsensical words in between your sobs, but the large woman isn’t put off. After she’s done with you, you’ll never think of that freckled fuck ever again. At least, you won’t unless you want him dead. 

Wrestling your pliant body to the mattress once more, she leaves you on the bed by yourself, before rolling onto the left side. Opening the top drawer of her nightstand, she pulls out a pair of handcuffs, a battery powered hitachi wand, duct tape, and a small bottle of lube. Setting them on the bed by your writhing form, she quickly makes her way back to you. 

“Shh, it’s alright, Princess. I’m right here,” Yelena reaches under you, fiddling with your bra’s hooks until it pops open, allowing her to slide your useless arms out of the garment. Tossing it aside, she sucks in a deep breath, enjoying the view of your plush chest. Experimentally, she pinches your right nipple, relishing the small moan you let out at the feeling. Gripping the handcuffs next to you, she feeds your dainty wrists through the opening, popping the pink, plush cuffs on tightly. Happy with the result, she continues her endeavour. 

Moving farther down your body, she leaves your socks on, loving how your thigh fat squishes up a bit. Grabbing the hem of your cute, pink panties, she pushes them off of you, exposing your pretty cunny. It separates from you with a small string of slick, filling Yel with a sense of satisfaction. You’re her perfect pain slut, aren’t you? 

Pushing on your pliant legs open, she smiles happily down at you, dark eyes blown wide open, “Awe, is your slutty pussy wet for me?” 

You shake your head rapidly, disorienting yourself more than before, “Nu-no! It’s not!” She clicks her tongue teasingly, her smile growing wider than before. 

“Don’t lie to me, Princess. Now I have to punish you once more,” Forcing your legs open, she holds them down with her own, straddling your waist. Her large form easily overpowers you, as she grabs the blue hitachi wand, and flips it on to the highest setting. Pushing it against your clit with a swift motion, your entire body jolts at the sudden stimulation. A loud whine leaves your lips, as you try to buck it off of your sensitive cunny. 

“Puh-please! Take it off! It’s too much!” Yelena snickers in delight, ignoring your pleading. Grabbing the duct tape from beside you, she rips off a few long strips, before smacking them onto your skin and the vibrator, effectively keeping it attached to you. 

Your moans and whimpers continue to grow louder and louder, as you try your best not to cum. You bite your lips in the hopes of stifling yourself, but it does little to help. If anything, it just spurs the large woman on. 

“Go on, cum for me, cum for Daddy,” You shake your head, a few keens falling from your mouth, as she watches in awe at the way your cunny leaks and clenches around nothing. 

Your toes curl in ecstasy as you cum, a loud whine escaping you. A gush of your orgasm flows from you, wetting the blonde woman and the mattress below. Two long, slender fingers prod at your slick pussy, forcing themselves inside your sensitive walls. 

“Good Girl, You’re so Good for me,” They Start to move in a ‘come hither’ motion, hitting your g-spot repeatedly with how long her fingers are.  

“Too much! Too much!” You cry, as she quickly brings you over the edge once more. 

More slick sprays from your cunny, as overstimulation begins to set in. Yelena captures your lips with hers, thrusting her tongue into your mouth. The kiss is wet and hot, as she grips at your plush chest. 

“No, no it’s not, Baby. It’s not enough,” Fumbling with her fly, she releases the strap she’s been wearing all night. In all honesty, she’s surprised that you hadn’t noticed the bulge or felt it underneath your ass earlier. It’s a good ten inches in length, and around 5.5 inches of girth. 

It is pretty intimidating for most, but due to your fucked out stupor, it should feel amazing for you. Grabbing the lube, she squeezes a small amount onto the silicone cock, smoothing it over the toy in sync with her fingers pumping inside of you. 

Deeming the toy and your cunny ready, she makes the next move. Sliding off of your numb legs, she stands to her feet, towering over you in all of her glory. Hefting you up and off of the mattress, she quickly punched your back against her pristine, white wall. Forcing your arms around the back of her head, she continues to kiss your drooly mouth vigorously. 

Wrapping your legs around her slender waist, her large leg muscles and arms work to hold you up. Guiding your dripping cunny over the tip of her strap, she slowly sinks you onto it. 

A keen of both surprise and pleasure rips out of your throat, as you grip onto her short, blonde locks. Giggling, she bucks her hips into yours sharply, causing you to orgasm on the spot. The vibrator and her strap on feels like heaven. 

Throwing your head back in bliss, you feel your arousal drip onto her dress pants, creating even more wet spots than before. Separating from your lips, she grins down at you. 

“Look at you, dirty Girl,” She spanks your ass harshly with one hand, as she continues a hardcore pace. The tip of the silicone cock batters against your cervix, causing you to cry out in both pleasure and pain, “You love it when Daddy ruins your pussy, don’t you?” 

Too fucked out to think properly, you nod your head vigorously, “Uh-huh! Uh-huh! I love Daddy’s cock!” She kisses your cheek tenderly, not stopping her thrusts for even a moment. Moving her lips down your vulnerable neck, she starts to suck the tender skin, leaving dark love marks on your pretty skin. 

“Mmm, good Princess! Since you’re such a good girl, I think you deserve a treat. Do you want a treat? Does your dumb little mind even understand what I’m saying?” You nod once again, eyes teary and pleading. 

“Yes! Yes! I want a treat, please, Daddy!” Smirking against your skin, she reaches into her pocket from around your thigh. 

“Since you asked so nicely-“ She presses the injector lever, shooting a large load of fake cum into your gummy, needy pussy. You cum almost immediately, this clearly being the biggest orgasm of the night, as you practically convulse and squirt a geyser of cum all over the place, “I think you deserve Daddy’s cum inside you.” 

You practically sob at the overstimulation and the feeling of being so full, “Thank you! Thank you, Daddy!” You kiss her of your own volition, surprising the large woman. Her heart warms, loving how you’ve become so submissive. 

Cradling you’re form to her muscular body, she saunters back towards the bed, pushing any other objects off and into the night side table. 

Placing you on the now dry sheets, she quickly flicks off the vibrator still taped to your clit, before placing it on the table beside her. Plucking off the duct tape, she then takes off your handcuffs, effectively freeing you. Instead of moving away from the woman, you lay there tiredly, no longer processing the situation. 

Sighing in content, Yelena grabs a hand towel from the drawer she keeps her sex toys in, and wrestles it under your hips. Smiling, she removes the strap from inside of you, enjoying the sight of the fake cum flooding out of you. 

Laying next to you, she pulls your head into her chest, curling around you as if she were a safety blanket. 

“You did well, Princess,” You don’t say anything, snuggling into her warmth, “Go to sleep, tomorrow we’ll announce our official status, okay?” 

An slurred ‘Okie’ is heard, before you slip into unconsciousness. Cupping your face in appreciation, her dark eyes glance in the direction of a small green light coming from her video camera. 

Now you’ll have to date her; after all, you wouldn’t want your sex tape to get out, would you? 

[introvert--weeb]

Can I ask for a request for draken who has a crush on fem reader who’s the half baby sister of hakkai and yuzuha and she’s practically the princess of toman and no matter how many times he tries to approach her she’s always nervous (kinda like her brother) of being around him b/c she has a huge crush on him and she plans on confessing to him but she sees someone else confessing to him and she gets pretty sad and after that a rival gang notices she’s the princess of toman and decide to harass/hurt her and she ends up in the hospital, draken finds out and is pissed b/c of what happened and he ends up finding the guys who hurt her and he and the others beat the crap out of them after that he ends up confessing to her at the hospital and it ends in fluffy fluff:3

Hi anon! Thank you for the request! I really hope you enjoy it!!

--

Draken X f!reader (angst to fluff)

TW: mentions of injury, hospitalisation, violence

-

You could remember the moment you had fallen for the Vice President of Toman. Draken. He had instantly taken your heart and he was all you ever thought about these days.

Being the baby sister of Hakkai (although not fully), you were really close to the lanky male. In fact, you followed him like his much smaller shadow when he would attend Toman meetings. With how often you had turned up alongside the Second Division Vice Captain, you had been adopted as the Princess of Toman. Your cute looks and innocent persona had made everyone feel the need to keep you safe from harm.

Especially Draken. He would even kill a man if it meant you would be safe and happy. The poor boy had developed deep feelings for you, so deep that he would even claim it to be love. This had gone way past a simple infatuation.

To anyone with eyes, they could see how you both were obviously in love with the other but your interactions were awkward to say the least.

Just like your older brother, you had a hard time communicating with the opposite gender. Not so much with Mitsuya or Mikey but anyone else would be victim to your shyness. Stuttering and soft words were evident whenever someone had tried to talk to you apart from those you knew.

Over time, you had gotten better with your shyness with other members of Toman, becoming especially close to Angry (Souya) as you both seemed to be similar. The only person you couldn't talk a single syllable to was Draken.

Draken had tried multiple times to talk to you, to get to know you. But each attempt was met with failure. As soon as he would get close enough to start a conversation with you, you would become flustered. A deep blush took over your face and ears before you would run off to find Hakkai. Ken was confused as he had hardly gotten a simple 'hi' before you had disappeared.

You didn't mean to seem rude. You just felt like your heart would explode if you remained in his presence longer than a few seconds to a minute. He was just so cool and perfect that you had convinced yourself he was way out of your league. But maybe one day you would get the confidence to at least allow your feelings to be known to the tall blond.

That day had finally come. You had finally gathered enough confidence to confess your strong feelings for Ken Ryuguji. Yuzuha had helped you practice what you would say while she dolled you up. She had picked out a cute black skirt with a f/c shirt that went perfectly. Cute is what you thought when you had examined yourself in the body length mirror. Hopefully Draken would think so too.

After another run through with what you would say, Yuzuha handed you your small bag which contained your wallet and phone. You thanked her for all her help before heading to where you knew Draken and Mikey would be. After all, it was lunch time.

It didn't take you long to reach the café, your hands fiddling with the hem of your skirt as you approached nearer. This was it. You were finally going to tell him how you feel and you would find out if he felt the same. If he did, great...if he didn't, you would have to accept it.

Pushing the door open, you were frozen to the spot at the sight that greeted you. At the table where Draken and Mikey were sat, there was a girl who was talking to the vice president. Silently approaching closer, you had caught the words that tumbled out of her mouth.

"I really like you Ryuguji-kun! Please accept my confession!"

That's it. Your world crumbled around you. You were too late. Too naive to believe you were the only one who saw how amazing Draken was. And due to your shyness, you had missed out on telling him your feelings.

Your body had gone into auto pilot as you ran out of the café, tears falling rapidly down your cheeks. How could you be so stupid? Of course Draken wouldn't like someone as awkward as you! He needed someone who was strong and had enough confidence in themselves. Someone the complete opposite of you.

You had been wandering the streets aimlessly for an hour now. All your tears had been shed and you felt empty. You didn't want to head home yet. Not while you were still wallowing.

"Oh hey! It's Toman's princess!" A strange voice called out somewhere behind you. How did they know that nickname? Did everyone know you as this? That you would have to guess was the case as it wasn't long until you were surrounded by high school kids.

You didn't know what to do. You could try to fight but you only knew a little self defense. Thinking about it, you really should have asked Mitsuya or Mikey or even Hakkai to teach you how to fight.

Within moments, before you could truly react, the gang had descended upon you with kicks and punches, knocking the air from your lungs. You had tried to fight back, even succeeding in landing a punch or two on your opponents. However, it only angered them more and the beating intensified.

The gang had left you alone when you could barely stay awake. Your body lay battered on the concrete, bruises and broken bones making themselves known. Maybe it was your lack of energy or maybe it was the intensity of the pain, but your mind had shut itself down causing you to pass out.

The next Toman meeting was that night. Everyone had gathered together at the usual shrine, parking their bikes and engaging in conversations until Mikey would begin his announcements.

Draken was in a pretty foul mood that night. Having received that confession from that girl had really put him on edge. Of course he had rejected her feelings, knowing his heart belonged to Toman's princess. Speaking of Y/N, where was she?

Hakkai had pulled up at the shrine, his face showing just how devastated he felt. Always one to wear his heart on his sleeve after all. He was blaming himself for not being able to protect his baby sister from the fate she had encountered.

Noticing that the lanky boy was on his own, Draken went over to ask about where you were as you never missed a meeting. Hakkai just shook his head, mumbling that he had explained the situation to Taka-chan and Mikey already so he should ask them if he wanted to find out. It wasn't that Hakkai was being rude, he was just emotionally exhausted from having to explain it twice already.

Panic set in Ken's gut but he had no reason why. You were surely safe, right? After all, you would follow Hakkai everywhere and he would protect you with his last breath if needed.

It was during Mikey's announcements that Draken had found out about you being in hospital, placed under a medical coma to help your recovery. No-one knew when and if you would wake up. This news caused Ken's heart to drop to his stomach but also for immense rage to ignite in his chest. He would find the gang that had hurt his princess and make them pay.

Draken along with the rest of Toman had found the gang responsible for your condition within days of your hospitalisation. A huge brawl had occurred which lasted maybe 5 minutes at most. Draken had left no-one conscious, taking his anger out on the scum that dared harm what was his.

Everyone in Toman had decided to visit you once the brawl was over and you were properly avenged. Everyone simply watched as your chest rose and fell with each breath, the only indication you hadn't passed on yet. Draken felt his throat get clogged by the tears and sobs he was holding back. He was the tough vice president after all. He couldn't afford to look weak.

Weeks passed by with Ken spending his time at your bedside, waiting for any sign that you would wake up. He missed seeing your e/c eyes that he could stare into forever. He missed your cute giggles he would hear when you joked around with Angry. He missed you.

Unable to help himself, Draken allowed a few tears to escape past his eyes and roll down his cheek. "Please wake up Y/N. I love you, and I will tell you that everyday when you are back," and with those words, Ken leaned forward to gently brush his lips against yours.

Just like how it happened in fairy tales, your eye lids began to flutter open as Draken pulled back. The poor boy didn't notice you were awake until your hand (which he clutched tightly in his own) began to move slightly. In disbelief, Draken moved his teary gaze to your face where you were smiling back at him. Your cheeks had begun to heat up once you realised that your crush was holding your hand.

"YOU'RE AWAKE!" Ken was so loud that you had to shush him, your voice laced with giggles. Draken was just so happy that you were awake and looking OK that he pulled your face closer to his. Before you knew it, your lips were covered by another pair in a harsh but love filled kiss.

You must have died and gone to heaven, you convinced yourself. Due to that thought, you had the confidence to kiss back, even lifting your hand on his bicep. It was the best feeling you could ever hope to know. Heaven was surely amazing.

"I love you... I love you... I love you..." Draken muttered against your lips in between the soft pecks he was now leaving on you. He was so happy that you had kissed back, almost confirming you felt the same for the blond.

"I love you too..." Your breath came out as a long sigh, your voice dreamy and filled with all your feelings. Ken moved away from your face and relaxed back in the chair he occupied, a grin plastered on his face.

You were finally beginning to focus on where you were. Beeping machines, wires connected to your arm, the distinctive smell of disinfectants. You weren't in heaven after all. You were alive and in the hospital. It was only then that you had realised you had kissed your crush and told him you loved him too.

All the confidence you seemed to have evaporated in an instant. You were left a tomato red and stuttering so much that no words could come up. You had actually confessed and kissed Ken Ryuguji...

It was 2 weeks later when you were discharged from the hospital, accompanied by bandages around your ribs and your new boyfriend. "Make sure you're ready for our date tomorrow babe," Draken whispered in your ear, causing shivers to travel down your spine.

This boy was going to be the death of you.

[glorified-red]

Could I request hcs for subtle ways the boys express their protectiveness?

Thank you for the request my love! I got to play a fun little game of ‘Eenie Meenie Miney Mo’ for which request to do.

Protective BatBoys

word count: 1600~

warnings: insinuation of someone getting hit by a car, mentions of attackers

I was quite tempted to write Bruce headcanons to this but I must hold back ><

Dick Grayson

Ah, Dick Grayson, the King of small romantic protective gestures

Every time, without fail, Dick will wait until he watches you get inside your house safely before driving/walking away

Its a really cute tick of his because he covers it up with a goodbye kiss and goofy waves that leave you giggling even after you close your house door

But its so he knows where you are, and he can see for himself that you made it safely inside because the second he turns away too soon, you may get locked out, or someone can crawl out from the bushes and nab you

Paranoid, he knows

He constantly wraps you up in things, when you two go swimming he’ll patter up from behind you and place a towel around your shoulders, patting you dry along the way

Very insignificant gesture but he doesn't want you to catch a cold in the A/C or Gotham wind

He’ll do the same with his jackets, maybe even plop his hat on your head when it's gets to the snowy seasons 1. Because its adorable seeing the hat fall into your eyes and 2. Because it'll warm your head up

Scarves too, he’ll even go on a tangent about how cold it is outside while he wraps you in it

Dick will always offer to drive you places, even if you insist on driving yourself to meet up with him or walking there, Dick will still offer because it means he’ll be present if you get into a wreck, sucks but then he can help with first aid

If you decline his offer though, he’ll politely ask for you to take Titus or Ace with you whenever you walk somewhere, they’re trained and he trusts them to keep you company/safe when he can't 

Jason Todd

Jason’s protectiveness comes from a place of knowing how cruel the world actually is

He can't stand the idea of anything happening to you

If he has to, he will use his reputation of Red Hood as a way to keep you safe, putting a man at gun point and sneering out, “They’re off. Limits.”

He’d bust a whole trafficking ring if it meant ending a person who touched you or hurt you in any way

But Jason’s protectiveness doesn't stop while he's wearing the helmet

Even when you two are sleeping, Jasons unconsciously protecting you, no matter how you two cuddle, Jason always positions himself as closest to the bedroom door

Whether his back is to the door or he’s facing it, Jason needs the comfort of knowing any person coming into the room would have to get through him before even reaching you

He also envelopes you, he's a big guy so its pretty easy for him to wrap you up in his arms as an extra layer of protection from the outside world

Jason doesn't really like the idea of training you past basic combat or gun skills, hell, he doesn't like involving you in the family business if he doesn't have to

So he inserts himself into any situation you may need protection in

Which is exactly why he starts going to the gym with you as a work out buddy

Jason makes it sound like he just wants to spend time with you or help you achieve your goals faster since he knows how the body works from his Robin days

But deep down you both know his true intentions: he wants to keep an eye on you

The gym is crawling with creeps that have the guts to ogle at you or get too touchy, but having Jason’s 6 foot beefcake of an ass standing beside you the entire time is like an instant creep repellent

Plus, he gets to spot you and make sure you don't get injured from bad technique or from pushing yourself too hard

He’ll even encourage you with innuendos the entire time, but at the end of the day, he’ll gladly walk you home

Tim Drake

Tim is the most subtle about his inner protectiveness, a subtle King if you will

Most times when he gets protective, you never even notice

When you two cuddle in your house, it takes him a very long time to actively fall asleep because he doesn't trust your home security system if you even have one so he forces himself to stay awake just incase anything happens

But don't worry, he’ll eventually get to updating the security in your house

He does get these protective eyes whenever something is off when he's around you, they narrow a bit and latch onto whatever is off, glaring holes into the offending object until its all clear

Its quite terrifying to witness and very hard to miss when Tim is staring dead at the man speaking to you from across the room at a Gala, sipping his drink in the corner

If he feels the need, he will walk up and control the situation, whether it mean inserting himself into the convo or simply being present for it, he’ll do it

The thing with Tim though, is when he's protective, he’s almost always touching you in some way

His fingers playing idly with the ends of your hair as he speaks to a random person who walked up to you, clinging to your shirt/sleeves when he’s analyzing a situation and doesn't want you to go forward just yet, or even as simple as holding your hand as he leads you home

Tim also keeps small snacks/waters on hand at all times to protect you from Gotham heat and pesky hunger, very much like a mother hen because he also carries a first aid kit everywhere

He follows you whenever you walk alone around Gotham at night, he’s already on patrol so he might as well make sure you make it home safe, if anything happens he won't think twice about intervening as RR

If your going out somewhere alone he always always always asks you to call him until you make it to your destination, he doesn't care if he's working on something or in the middle of a board meeting, he has an assistant for a reason who can give him notes

Its become a normal thing for you to send him your Uber tracking link so he can watch it, if you don't send it he won't hesitate to hack into your account just to find it

Damian Wayne

Damian? Wayne? Being subtle?

Its usually pretty obvious when Damian gets protective over you

He’s the type who won't hesitate to pull out a knife out of god knows where and threaten whatever is responsible for you being uncomfortable

This leads to very interesting encounters of you having to hold him back because ‘oh no a random guy bumped into you and didn't apologize’ and suddenly Damian is missing 

He’s also incredibly blunt, saying things like “Cover your drink” at galas or handing you one of those hand held tasers before you go out and saying “Go for the neck”

Will insist on training you himself, whether its hand-to-hand combat or with a sword, Damian wants to keep track of your progress himself so he can make sure all your weaknesses are trained

Its also because he doesn't want his grimy brothers near you, so its protective on all counts

But subtlety? Theres a few you can notice after being with him for awhile

He’s very careful when going out around Gotham with you, Damian knows he can fend for himself so he will gladly take the brunt of any possible situation

This leads to him always walking on whichever side of you thats closest to the road, so on the off chance a car derails, he’ll get hit first

Always making sure to match your pace when you two walk together, he doesn't want you getting too far ahead of him because he'd have to run to get to you, too far behind and he might not notice you getting taken silently, he wants you right in arms reach at all times

He has a permanent scowl and narrowed eyes but when he's protective, they get even more prominent

Bonus

All the BatBoys do the same exact thing out of instinct when it comes to protecting you

None of them will hesitate to step in between you and any attacker, pulling you behind them so they are in the line of fire now

Its a subtle action that each of them do, albeit with some differences

Damian will push the attacker back as far as he can from you, putting plenty of distance between the two of them and you, so if anything breaks out, you can run away easily

Dick will hold his arms out, fully covering you but keeping his hands in the fray so if the attacker tries attacking you from any angle, Dick is ready to protect

Tim will grip onto you somehow, keeping his hand right on your bicep or forearm so he can still hold you, he doesn't know if there can be a hidden attacker from behind that will pry you away from him, so touching you is his way of making sure he doesn't lose track of you

Jason will slip in front of you and cross his arms, its a sign of nonchalance but obvious dominance, showcasing that he doesn't need his hands to be intimidating to the attacker, he’ll glare and challenge them so all attention is on him now and not you

Taglist ♡

@anothertimdrakestan

@bungunz

@red-hood-redemption​

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not allowed ii, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): jungkook x reader x est. relationship yoongi

summary: You know Min Yoongi loves you when he invites Jeon Jungkook to fuck you. Not just for you, but for Jungkook too. You would have been cool with it being a one-time thing. BTS are busy after all. 2021 New Year’s Eve Live just aired and Jungkook’s in your Twitter search history again. But surely Yoongi wouldn’t ask Jungkook to drop by again... and watch?!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship with Yoongi (and they’re fluffy and in love); tiny bit of crack; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, voyeurism, m-receiving oral, face-fucking, fingering, thigh-riding, cowgirl, handjob, doggy, spanking); idol!BTS; takes place after 2021 NYEL

it’s mostly JK smut with a bit of Yoongi, he’s still recovering after all

–

“You looked so handsome.”

He chuckled as you ran your hands through his black locks, damp from his shower.

“Seeing you with them on stage again makes me so happy.”

He smiled, hands on your waist, letting you mess with his hair.

“Me too,” your boyfriend said softly, looking so beautiful, so perfect, just like this, bare-faced and happy.

You placed your forehead against his exposed one, looking into his dark brown eyes. He looked amused, as if he knew what you were going to say.

“I love you, Min Yoongi.”

“Ah, yes, tell me more,” Yoongi purred. “Tell me how much of a perfect man I am.”

You laughed, lifting your head. “No, no, I’ve decided against that,” you played along, shaking your finger at him. “Because you didn’t immediately say ‘I love you’ back.”

Yoongi scrunched up his face. “Hah…” He looked away. You prodded him in a nose and he gave you a disgruntled huff, ears turning red. He wasn’t keeping it from you because he didn’t love you. He was keeping it from you because he was being difficult on purpose. You tapped his cheek.

“Wa-a-ting, lil meow meow…”

He glared at you disapprovingly.

“Lil…” You leaned down, next to his heated ear. Speaking softer, slower. “Meow meow.”

“I love you,” Yoongi grumbled.

Your hands ran down his chest, nails against the white t-shirt fabric, breathing heavier, more sensually. He sucked in a tight breath.

“Don’t,” he warned.

You stopped and sighed, falling beside him, on his right. “Ah, you’re right. Sorry,” you apologized, rubbing your brow. “I got carried away.”

Yoongi sighed. “You know I don’t mean it like that.”

You reached down to intertwine your fingers with his right hand. “I know. I can tell.”

“… Shut up.”

He knew you were addressing the tent in his pants that you very much wanted to touch.

“If I just blow you, it should be fine?”

Yoongi sighed again, shaking his head. “No, because I can’t reciprocate as well as I would like and that’s not fair to you.”

You didn’t press it. That kind of thing didn’t matter to you, but it mattered to Yoongi, so you let it be. Maybe you could have done it anyway, but you knew that wouldn’t make him happy. It was better to simply wait, even if he was allowed to be on stage again, at least partially. He was recovering at a good pace. Both of you agreed to be patient and sometimes had to keep the other in check.

“When do you have to go back to work?” he asked quietly.

“Soon.”

“You don’t have to go back.”

You laughed. “And do what? Become your maid?”

Yoongi grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “Someone will find out.”

His grin faltered and he leaned his head against your shoulder. “Yeah.” His voice was small, barely above a whisper. “But I’m feel the happiest when I’m with you.”

“I’m always with you, Yoongi.” You reached over and tapped the left side of his chest. “Right here.”

You felt him stiffen at your touch, a little embarrassed at the cheesy movement. His brown eyes flickered up to your face, to your smirk. Because, of course, you had done it on purpose to fluster him, even if you meant it. He pouted at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Hm, that’s not what your Twitter search history says.”

“E… eh?” you uttered, feeling the heat rise to your face. “You were looking through my phone?”

“Does you leaving the screen on count as looking through your phone?”

You looked away from Yoongi’s teasing eyes. You were about to say something but Yoongi squeezed your hand, leaning in closer.

“No, no, don’t say that. I want you to tell me.” His lips against your ear, sending shivers down your neck. “I want to know everything, my love.”

Shit. You could feel your heart race when he spoke like that, so low and dangerous. You tried to keep your hormones in check, not wanting to get turned on and jump him, because if he kept this up, you most certainly would.

“Ah, well… he just… looked so nice in the Dynamite and Best of Me performance. And the Mic Drop performance. Not as nice as you, of course,” you added with a slight puff of pride, squeezing his hand back.

“Nice save.”

“Hey, I mean it,” you retorted. “Hmph.”

He chuckled, raspy and lovely. “I know you do.” He kissed your ear lightly. “But I also know Jungkookie is missing his noona, so I had to make sure you were still wet for him.”

Before you make a snarky remark, the front door opened.

Your eyes went wide and you snapped your head back to the mischievous expression on Min Yoongi’s face.

“Y-Yoongi!” you hissed under your breath. “You’re right here!”

He ticked his head, smirking at you. “That I am.” His voice dropped several octaves as you heard the relocking of the door and the removal of shoes. “And now, so is Jungkook.”

You paled. Was Yoongi going to watch you or something? There was no way you could initiate anything sexual with Jungkook with Yoongi next to you! You felt your cheeks burn as Yoongi smirked triumphantly, pink tongue running over his teeth. Wasn’t this taking it too far–?

“Noona?” came the gentle voice of Jeon Jungkook, with just a hint of teasing. “Are you aslee–HYUNG?”

Evidently, Jungkook thought the exact same thing.

You bolted up from the bed, eyes wide as Jungkook rounded the corner and abruptly stopped, wearing an oversized long-sleeved black shirt. Black sweatpants. Black hair fluffy and curly around his cheeks, looking so soft that you wanted to run your fingers through it. He was taken aback at the appearance of Yoongi, who lifted himself from the bed like a cat, in one smooth motion. His right hand raised and ruffled his shorter black hair, raspy chuckle on his lips as he witnessed your and Jungkook’s equally stunned expressions.

Jungkook’s eyes dropped down and he looked away quickly, realizing Yoongi was in his boxer briefs and still semi-hard from being so close to you. His eyes darted everywhere in the room, unable to look at you or Yoongi. There were probably a million things going on in his head as he fixated on a spot on the floor, eyes open and unblinking.

One, it was obvious why he was there.

Two, Yoongi was also here?

Three, if he looked at you sexually, wouldn’t that be weird, because Yoongi was here??

Four, why is Yoongi here???

“I should g-go–” Jungkook sputtered, angling his body away from the bedroom.

“Jungkook, come here.”

Yoongi’s stern voice froze the younger man in mid-movement, leg raised awkwardly in the air. Jungkook was still not looking at either of you.

“You came here for a reason, didn’t you?”

“Ah… hyung, I was only–”

“Don’t insult my girlfriend by pretending you don’t want her.”

You could tell those words made Jungkook pause. He turned around, slowly, eyes flickering to Yoongi’s calm face. Yoongi cocked his head at in your direction, dark brown eyes boring into Jungkook’s. You sat there, frozen in one of Yoongi’s oversized t-shirts, witnessing the interaction that was probably a lot more tense for you and Jungkook than it was for Yoongi. Jungkook chewed on his lower lip, revealing the tiny mole under it, uncertainty etched on his features.

“She’s already told me how good you made her feel.”

Jungkook flinched. His eyes flickered to you. “R-really?”

“W-well… he asked?” you replied, wringing your hands nervously. “He wanted to know the details.”

Jungkook’s tan skin paled a bit. “O-oh…”

Yoongi cracked his neck, sliding into his computer chair. He seemed very pleased with himself. Too pleased. Smug, even. “I especially liked the part where you spanked her. She can be a bad girl sometimes.”

Instantly, Jungkook turned into a tomato. “T-that was in the h-heat of the moment, I s-swear…”

“Yeah?” Yoongi hummed knowingly.

You made the mistake of looking at Yoongi’s eyes. Dark and alluring, noticing your gaze immediately and honing in on it. His lips curved into his trademark open-mouthed smirk. Fuck. You loved it when he did that. Too much. He knew it too. Fuck. Fuck. Yoongi was doing it on purpose, enjoying his effect on you as he ran a pale hand through his hair, separating the dark strands, flexing his fingers as he did so.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Take off the shirt.”

He was staring at you, so he obviously meant you. You gulped.

“Yoongi, are you su–”

He interrupted you, dark eyes flashing. “Take it off.”

Your eyes shifted to Jungkook, whose doe-like brown eyes were fixated on you too, unable to look away now because Yoongi had given you an order. And you could tell Yoongi that you weren’t going to do it, but Jungkook was wanting it, needing it, the tent in his pants growing, anxiously chewing his pink lip raw, and, fuck, you could refuse but Jungkook looked so desperate and delectable that your fingers went to the hem of the shirt, eyes flickering back to Yoongi, who grinned at you.

Deep down, you wanted to please Yoongi too, and he seemed very, very satisfied to watch you lift the shirt up and over your head. He purred your name, in that enticing way you loved.

“Give it to me.”

You tossed it to him and Yoongi caught it in the air. The action made your tits bounce and your ass rise a little, giving Jungkook a clear view of your body in your black bra and panties, seamless, comfortable, molded so perfectly to your curves that Jungkook’s lower lip popped out of his teeth, wet and glistening as he gawked at you.

“Hyung,” Jungkook swallowed. “I c-couldn’t… not in front of you…”

Yoongi turned his attention from you to the maknae, looking unsurprised as Jungkook continued to focus on your body. The way Yoongi spoke sent hot, arousing shivers down your spine. His words sounded familiar, echoing the text he had sent you that day.

“You’re not allowed to leave until your noona is satisfied.”

I want you to tell me.

Fuck, Min Yoongi really was your perfect man.

Your eyes locked with Jungkook’s. If Yoongi didn’t want this to happen, he wouldn’t have let Jungkook keep the key. He wouldn’t have told Jungkook it was okay to come over. He wouldn’t have stayed if he didn’t want to watch. And Jungkook’s resolve was cracking with his hyung’s words and his noona’s nearly naked body right in front of him.

Jungkook breathed your name, hesitant, needy.

No honorifics.

A slow smirk grew on your lips.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” you purred. “Don’t you want my taste in your mouth again?” You saw the younger man’s breathing hitch. “My hands all over you?” Jungkook was taking a step towards you now, his fluffy hair sliding down to shroud his face. Your gaze darted to Yoongi for half a second. He cocked his eyebrows, nodding at you. Telling you it was okay. You looked back to Jungkook’s hungry eyes, chest rising and falling as he approached the bed.

“My pussy squeezing your cock?”

A low groan dripped from Jungkook’s lips at your words. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white.

“H-hyung.” Jungkook swallowed hard and tore his eyes away from you to Yoongi. “I… I won’t be able to hold back.”

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, settling comfortably. The expression on his face was approval, his dark brown eyes glittering with mischief, pink lips curled into a devious smirk. His tone was a low, mind-numbing drawl, the one he used when he was on top of you, cock-deep and pressing your legs against your chest, whispering dirty words right against your lips.

“Good, because she deserves everything. I want her to be ruined.”

…

You should have been more careful about your crush on Jungkook. Yoongi was definitely going to use it against you now. Ack. What was he so observant for? You wouldn’t have done anything, but now Jungkook was crawling on the bed, breathing hard, looking so delicious and hot that you couldn’t back out now even if you wanted. More hair slid in front of his left eye, covering it, the other single chocolate orb unblinking as he licked his lips slowly.

“Did you miss me, Jungkook?”

He smiled, naughty and apologetic at the same time. “So much, noona.” He stopped right in front of you, eyes roaming your body. “But I wanted to wait until Yoongi-hyung said it was okay.”

“What a good boy,” you praised and Jungkook’s ears turned pink. “When did Yoongi say it was okay?”

Jungkook chewed on his lip, eyes shifting around nervously. “Erm… this morning…”

You raised an eyebrow and looked at Yoongi. The older man chuckled. “I told you Jungkookie missed being dick-deep in his noona.”

“Hyung…” Jungkook whined.

“Bet you jacked off thinking about it after it happened,” you teased.

“Noona…” He pouted at you. You leaned forward, breath against his lips, making him shiver.

“You can tell me,” you murmured. “I want to know.”

You reached up and pushed his long black locks out of his eyes, running your hands through his hair. Oh, so soft and luscious. He smelled so good, clean, fresh, and sensual, different from Yoongi’s pine-scented cologne, but also familiar and inviting. Jungkook lips parted at your closeness, eyes dropping down to your cleavage displayed right in front of him.

“I did,” he whispered, somewhat ashamedly. “You tasted so good.” He moved closer to you. “Smelled so good.” Closer, lips brushing against yours. “Felt so fucking good, wet and tight around my cock.”

Fuck, Jeon Jungkook was the epitome of lust.

You pressed your lips against his, inhaling his scent, tangling your fingers in his hair. He whimpered into your mouth as you kissed him hard, tongue sliding in, teasing him as you flitted it in and out. You heard Yoongi hum, as if to say, finally. Your eyes cracked open, shifting to him and his amused expression.

“Stop holding back,” Yoongi chuckled. “I know you want him more than that.”

Was he really going to heckle you this entire time? You narrowed your eyes, growling into Jungkook’s mouth and grabbing his head, raising yourself up and fucking his lips with your tongue roughly, making Jungkook moan and squirm under you, hands flying up to your waist to grab it and hold on as you sucked on his lower lip, raking it with your teeth before releasing him. Jungkook gasped, pressing his fingertips into your skin.

“Don’t disappoint me,” Yoongi breathed. The arousal within you sparked as Yoongi said your name, coaxing the fire, igniting it. “You better make Jungkook scream.”

“H-hyung?” Jungkook yelped. Yelped because your hands gripped his shirt, pulling it up and over, breaking his grip on you as his head popped out, long hair flaring out as you flung it aside before sliding down to his stomach. His eyes widened as you spread your knees, ass up as your tongue slid over his abs, soft lips working on his flesh.

“A-ah, fuck…”

You drew patterns on his skin as you kissed upwards, nipping lightly, leaving little red marks. Ugh, such a beautiful body, with sculpted muscles and glorious tan skin. Your hands crawled up his sides, digging your nails in, relishing in his cries of pleasure that vibrated through his chest as you reached his pecs.

Holy hell.

Jungkook really must have been working out lately. Your fingers danced up his back, tracing the muscles, licking slowly up his sternum. You heard him inhale sharply and your eyes went up to his face, his hair hanging down, watching you with his mouth open, Adam’s apple bobbing as he breathed.

“You’re so sexy,” he panted.

You slid your head to the side, tongue dragging over his hot skin, breathing over it. He gasped as the tip touched his nipple, teasing it lightly as you raked your nails down his broad back.

The sounds he made had your panties drenched between your thighs.

You kissed your way to the other side, pressing your lips against his nipple, scratching up and down his back, snickering as Jungkook came undone above you, tipping his head back as he moaned. You kissed up his chest, to his trembling neck, pushing his head back down to you so you could kiss him again, deeply, hungrily, growling his name against his mouth. His kiss was like a drug, so addictive and euphoric, making you want him more and more, craving his shaking breath against your lips.

Your palm pressed against the front of his sweatpants, grinning as you felt his hardness throb.

Jungkook started, drawing back from your kiss, lips swollen from your roughness. You held onto him, gripping his cock through the fabric. You arched an eyebrow, smirk growing on your lips, revealing your teeth. He gulped loudly.

“I… I like it when you kiss me,” he mumbled.

“Only like?” you purred, stroking his bulge. He groaned, bucking into your hand.

“N-no,” Jungkook breathed. “I love it.”

You yanked his pants and underwear down together, dropping down, hearing Yoongi’s snicker of amusement as you came face to face with Jungkook’s length. Already so hard, tip glistening with pre-cum, waiting for your mouth. Jungkook made an anxious noise, realizing Yoongi was, indeed, still present as you swallowed his cock, taking it all in your mouth.

Your boyfriend, superstar rapper of BTS, Min Yoongi was watching you blow the golden maknae Jeon Jungkook right on his bed.

The thought made you wetter, tongue wrapping around the head and sucking hard, making Jungkook hump your mouth, gasping your name. It made him slide further down your throat, your tongue rubbing the bottom of his cock.

“Do what you do for me,” Yoongi drawled. “Lick his balls.”

“W-wait, I want to stay in her mouth a little–what the fuck,” Jungkook groaned as his head snapped down, eyes widening as he realized what you were doing. “There’s no fucking way.”

You went all the way down, the head buried in your throat, nose into his crotch, tongue extended as you licked his balls fervently, simultaneously deep-throating him and tonguing his balls. You hummed softly, adding vibrations to the list of sensations. Jungkook seemed lost of words, moaning incoherently as you rutted his cock into your throat, squeezing it. Saliva dripped down, covering his balls and your hand came up to smear it around, cupping and massaging them.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck,” Jungkook gasped, hardening even more, so stiff his cock bent against the roof of your mouth, barely able to fit. “H-how…?”

“Talent,” Yoongi chuckled, pleased.

You released his wet balls to place your hand on his hips, bobbing your head up and down. Jungkook shuddered, thighs shaking as you began to suck harder, tighter, clamping him in your warm, wet vice, not giving him a chance to catch his breath as you built a furious pace. His balls slapped against your chin, but you ignored it, completely focused on ramming his hips into your face.

“How is your mouth so good? So perfect, fuck, hyung you’re so lucky…”

Yoongi chuckled. “What are you talking about? She’s giving it to you right now.”

Jungkook could only respond with an incomprehensible wail as you reached around, feeling for his large hand and placing it on the back of your head.

“That means fuck her face.” Yoongi spoke for you considering you had Jungkook’s entire thick cock jammed down your throat.

“Are y-you sure?” Jungkook gasped, looking down at you. You raised an eyebrow.

“Do it, Jungkookie,” Yoongi nudged, his deep voice breathless and commanding. “Give her what she wants.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw and rolled his hips into your lips, gasping at the added tightness. Your brows furrowed, now completely focused on keeping your mouth and throat muscles tensed as Jungkook wildly thrusted into your face, hand gripping the back of your head, moaning so loudly that the sound filled the whole room with his lust. His muscles rippled above you, so sexy and beautiful that your whimpered around his cock, digging your nails into his hips as you held on.

Your eyes widened as you heard Yoongi get up, his fingertips touching your ass. A familiar, sexual touch that you had longed for all this time.

“Don’t worry,” Yoongi said softly, stroking your skin as Jungkook continued to shove his cock into your face. “I’ll be careful.”

He was talking about himself, not you. He was the one you were worried about, not you. Not you as your eyes rolled back into your head, Yoongi’s fingers slipping under your panties, sliding into your wet heat, his thumb pressed against your clit. The force of Jungkook’s thrusts made you back up into Yoongi’s hand, fucking his fingers as Jungkook humped your face.

“H-hyung, I’m close…” Jungkook gasped, realizing Yoongi was now next to the bed, casually fingering your pussy as he face-fucked you.

“Go ahead,” Yoongi said calmly. “Cum down her throat.”

Jungkook slowed down a little but Yoongi growled, warning him.

“Come on, Jungkook, do it.”

And then the pace roughened, Jungkook chasing his release in your tight mouth, your jaw aching as Yoongi’s fingers buried into your folds, humming approvingly as your walls clenched around them, dripping down his palm.

“That’s it,” Yoongi breathed. “You finally get what you’ve always wanted.” He leaned down, closer to your ear, both of Jungkook’s hands in your hair to hold you in place as you squeezed the head of his cock with your throat. “And I don’t even have to do anything, since Jungkook is strong enough to do the work for both of us.”

You whined, your climax thundering into you unexpectedly with Yoongi’s deep drawl so close to you, Jungkook’s clean cologne mixed with the scent of sex coming from both you and him. Yoongi grinned as your pussy throbbed around his long fingers, viscous liquid sliding down his wrist. Your entire body shivered, vibrating Jungkook’s cock, and he moaned above you, spurting down your throat with a groan of your name. Oh, yes. So delicious and so much. You swallowed greedily, eyes fluttering closed as pleasure warmed you from your core and your mouth, sucking the drips off the sensitive head.

“Fuck,” Jungkook gasped, knees giving out a little, making your body dip, your hard nipples brushing against the sheets. His hands lowered, gripping your shoulders tightly. You felt Yoongi remove his fingers, licking them off, moaning in satisfaction. Slowly, gingerly, Jungkook pulled back, your lips tightening as he backed off.

“N-noona, please…”

Reluctantly, you let go. Jungkook gulped, eyes flickering to Yoongi, who turned around and went back to his computer chair, sitting back down. He looked up at Jungkook, raising an eyebrow.

“Something wrong?”

“A-ah… well…” Jungkook rubbed the back of his head.

“Does she seem satisfied to you?”

Jungkook looked over to you as you removed your panties, chucking them to Yoongi. He caught them out of the air, smirking as Jungkook’s eyes followed the journey of your panties. He jumped as he heard you open the nightstand drawer, taking out the box of condoms once again and selecting one as if you were at the fucking buffet picking a damn entrée. Jungkook wiggled out of his clothes, kicking them off the bed even as his brain considered uneasily. His body was already deciding for him.

“Uh…”

You grabbed Jungkook by the shoulders and pushed him down on the bed. He was not as dominant as he was when you were alone, but that was probably nerves due to Yoongi’s presence. You noticed out of the corner of your eye that Yoongi sniffed your panties and licked them before placing them on his crotch.

You blinked at him. He gave you an open-mouthed smirk as response.

You swore Yoongi was not this freaky before he met you. He matched your wavelength in his own way and you weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. You slid down Jungkook’s abs, eyes still on Yoongi, careful to place your knees so Jungkook’s left thigh was trapped between them.

Then you sat down.

Jungkook gasped at the contact of your dripping wet pussy hitting his muscle. Your grinded into his thigh, looking back at into those big doe eyes as he gawked at you. You tilted your head, reaching back and unhooking your bra. You hand caught the black cups before it fell, hiding your nipples from him.

Jungkook whined as you rubbed your swollen clit against his skin.

You chuckled, gazing down at his swelling cock. “Need you to be hard for me again, Jungkookie, so I can ride you.”

He bit his lip as you continued to rub your juices onto his thigh. He tensed it under you and you hissed appreciatively, flinging your bra aside as you grabbed his cock with one hand, stroking it to full hardness as you abused your clit against his firm thigh, increasing the sensitivity. His eyes darkened from his hair covering his face, slipping to his other, more feral side, the duality so delicious you felt yourself squelch against him.

Jungkook cocked a dark eyebrow, smirk on his lips. “So wet for me. Want my cock that bad?”

You ripped the condom open, tossing the wrapper aside, matching his smirk as you rolled it down his throbbing length.

“Gonna fuck you until you can’t think anymore, Jungkook.”

And then you lifted yourself from his leg and sat down on his cock.

Jungkook gasped sharply, throwing his head back into the pillows as you fitted yourself around his stiff length, not letting him get used to it, not letting yourself get used to it as you began to smack your hips into his, his eyelids fluttering helplessly, moans radiating off the walls.

Yoongi chuckled. “You’re heartless. He’s going to cum in two seconds.”

You grinned, placing your hands above Jungkook’s shoulders and fucking him into the bed, thrusting him into you so hard that Jungkook yelped, sound of skin on skin wetly crashing against firmness, lewd and obscene. Fuck, he felt so good, thick and pulsing against your walls, his breathless whimpers spurring you on as you clenched around him, your pussy pumping his cock.

“Look at you, Jungkook,” you panted, slamming your hips together and making him groan again, clutching fistfuls of pillows. Your breasts bounced with your movements, hypnotizing him. His hair was spread out in black messy curls, framing his chiseled jaw and blown-out pupils, the mole underneath his lower lip trembling as he struggled to hold on to your untamed wildness. “Needed my pussy so bad, hm? Needed noona to take care of you, didn’t you? Bet you begged Yoongi to let you have me again.”

Jungkook’s eyes went wide, jerking his head towards Yoongi as his hyung grinned devilishly.

“And you would be right,” Yoongi purred.

“Hyung!”

You snickered, fucking him harder, faster, giving him a full body roll onto his dick and Jungkook’s head slammed back into the pillows, neck muscles tightening as he belted your name from the top of his lungs, chest shaking as he came. His cock jolted against your walls, pumping the condom full as you massaged his entire length, exhaling his name as you came as well, eyes closing in satisfaction. Your hands slid down to Jungkook’s shoulders, kneading them in your hands.

Even if your heart was Yoongi’s, your body could be equally turned on by both men. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Jungkook, because of course you did.

But Yoongi and you…

You looked over to Yoongi and he nodded, sliding up to the side of the bed with his computer chair.

The way his lyrics felt like your thoughts, the way that he took complex emotions and turned them into simple, elegant phrases, the way he looked at you, knowing you in a way that was more than just love, but also understanding the good and bad, the two sides of the same coin. He was open and honest with you, never letting you feel bad about your nonconformist beliefs, never judging you even if it was abnormal or unorthodox.

Such as sitting on Jeon Jungkook’s dick right now, running your nails over his sculpted chest and making him moan under you as Yoongi smiled. Well, he too was pleased Jungkook was having a good time. He did love the maknae quite a lot. Even sent him a long text telling him (and Kim Taehyung, of course). You, like everyone else, had that on tape, including Kim Seokjin feeding an unsuspecting Yoongi an empty calm shell afterward.

You smiled at the memory.

You leaned over to Yoongi, kissing him softly as he met you in the middle.

“Want to blow you while he’s fucking me,” you murmured into Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi shook his head, pouting slightly. “Hah, don’t tempt me.”

You squeezed Jungkook’s cock inside you and Jungkook groaned, hardening at the stimulation. “At least a handjob?” you pleaded. “Please, Yoongi.”

Jungkook patted your thigh and you felt him reach down, holding onto the condom. You lifted your hips and he slid out with a gasp, stunned by the sensitivity. Yoongi narrowed his eyes at you, before sighing heavily, rubbing his forehead with his right hand. You grinned as Yoongi reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a spare towel, throwing it at Jungkook so he could clean himself up.

“Okay, okay,” he gave in, getting up from the chair so you could lower his underwear. “My physical therapist is gonna kill me.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You told your physical therapist you have a girlfriend?”

Yoongi frowned. “Of course not. But it was heavily implied not to exert myself outside of physical therapy.”

You slid his boxer briefs down, freeing his incredibly hard cock, definitely ignored all this time. The head was purple red, desperate to be touched.

“A handjob isn’t physical exertion, hyung,” Jungkook mumbled, stroking his cock as he stared at your ass.

Yoongi moved away from you to sit on the bed, smushing all the pillows so he had a small mountain of softness to lay against. “Yes, well,” Yoongi grumbled, spreading his legs for you as you dipped down, ass up in the air for Jungkook. “I can’t control myself around her. Don’t want to take it too far.”

Jungkook sucked on his teeth at the image of your hand wrapping around Yoongi’s cock, stroking it slowly. You moaned softly, leaning against Yoongi’s thigh, feeling the familiar hardness and contours of his veins imprinted into your palm, Yoongi’s shallow breathing as you pumped him.

“Excuse me, you are supposed to be cock-deep in her pussy,” Yoongi barked at Jungkook, who started, fumbling with the box of condoms.

“Uh… are you sure?”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure, get your dick in there.”

You turned your head to look at Jungkook inquisitively, shaking your ass at him.

“Please, Jungkook?”

Apparently, that was all the enticing Jungkook needed because he immediately ripped open a condom and shoved it onto his cock before scooting up to you and gripping your hips. Yoongi grinned, patting your head as Jungkook slid into you once again, eyelids fluttering at the sensation.

“See,” Yoongi purred. “Now I don’t have to feel guilty that you’re not getting the good dicking you deserve.”

You smeared his pre-cum down the head and Yoongi moaned, tipping his head back into the headboard.

“Missed your cock, Yoongi,” you breathed, watching his delicate features twist in pleasure as you increased your pace, feeling Jungkook roll his hips into you, going slow and steady so as not to blow his load within seconds.

Yoongi smirked. “I know, but health comes first. Maybe next time I’ll let you get spit-roasted by Jungkook and I.”

You felt Jungkook’s fingertips dig into your hips. “R-really?” he blurted, far too quickly to censor himself.

Yoongi turned his attention from you, cocking an eyebrow.

“I-I mean…” Jungkook sputtered.

“Well,” Yoongi said calmly, smiling. “Guess I promised now, so I suppose it’s going to happen at some point.”

You chuckled. “Which hole do you want?” you teased.

Yoongi growled, closing his eyes, imagining it. “Fuck, I don’t know.” He gasped with Jungkook as you increased in speed on his cock and rammed your hips back into Jungkook’s. “We’d have to do both for me to be satisfied.”

You raised your eyebrows. 

Well. 

“What Yoongi wants, Yoongi gets.”

Yoongi chuckled as Jungkook moaned at the thought, grasping your hips tighter and fucking your harder, his cock hitting you deeply, making your gasp. Yoongi’s eyes cracked open and looked at you, devious and dangerous.

“Jungkook.” Yoongi called for the maknae’s attention. “Spank her.”

Your eyes widened and you cried out as Jungkook’s large palm smacked your ass, making your pussy clench around his cock. Your free hand came up and slammed against the headboard, not wanting to unnecessarily grip Yoongi’s arm even if it was his right. Yoongi eyes darkened with lust, smirk growing as you gripped his cock harder, jacking him off roughly.

“I love your fingers wrapped around my cock,” Yoongi breathed against your lips. “More, Jungkook.”

You felt the stinging pain radiate up your ass, the sound echoing off the walls as Jungkook growled, thrusting violently with repeated, wet squelches, your cum dripping down his thighs and yours, getting wetter and wetter as he slapped your ass and made your pussy throb around his cock. He was stronger than Yoongi and his slaps were a little inexperienced, but it felt good all the same, good because you could feel Yoongi getting hotter and harder in your hands, thighs tensing as he neared his release, Jungkook rambling behind you.

“F-fuck, you feel so good,” Jungkook snarled. “Such a fucking good pussy, so fucking tight and wet. Can’t help but want you, can’t help but think about fucking you, fuck.”

Yoongi shifted his gaze to your ass bouncing as Jungkook fucked and spanked it, turning it a red. Your nails curled into the headboard, barely taking tight gasps as your orgasm neared, threatening you.

“Close,” he breathed. “Fuck, you look so good being abused by Jungkook’s cock.”

You chewed on your lip, determined to get Yoongi off before yourself, clenching your jaw. You felt Yoongi hiss, pressing his head against the headboard, eyes shifting to lock with yours. Your name slid out of his lips in a euphoric exhale, his control slipping as he groaned, cock jerking into your hand. You gasped as he came.

Holy fuck.

Yoongi hadn’t cum in so long that the force of his orgasm splattered up your chest, painting your tits with thick white strings and staining you with his scent. You pussy clenched and suddenly you felt your own orgasm crash down, no longer inhibited due to your surprise, sending shocks of pleasure through your body as your pussy spasmed around Jungkook’s cock, choking the oversensitive head. Jungkook came with a sharp yelp of your name, burying his nails and fingertips into your hips, bruising you for sure, but all three of you were trapped in the chain reaction of orgasm that it became a mix of different pornographic sounds of release booming against the apartment walls.

Once again, soundproofing was really saving your asses here because all three of you seemed to forget that none of this should be happening.

The ecstasy slowly, slowly trickled away. Jungkook’s hands loosened their grip on you, his body sliding down and leaning against your back. He was panting hard, his sweat sticking to your skin, heart thudding in time with yours. Yoongi finally opened his dark eyes, staring down at your cum-covered breasts with a dry chuckle.

“Whoops.”

You pressed your forehead against the cool headboard, your tits hitting his upper arm. Yoongi clicked his tongue as his own cum dripped on his shirt.

“Serves you right,” you muttered.

“My dick is passing out,” Jungkook whined.

Yoongi shrugged. “Isn’t today your off day anyway?”

Jungkook squeezed you tightly, hope rising in his voice. “Y-yeah.”

Yoongi hummed. “The others might find out.”

Jungkook sucked in his cheek. “Who cares?” he chirped defiantly.

You felt Yoongi let out a raspy laugh.

“Ah, they’re going to be so jealous of you, Jungkookie.”

-

part iii “You’re not allowed to say such things.”

--

masterpost

[hansolmates]

a hero’s journey (m)

summary; jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story pairing; jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; best friend’s boyfriend au, slice of life, angst with a happy ending because im weak, pining pINING, everyone’s kind of a mess in their own sweet special way, alcohol use, mentions of ze weed, toxic relationships, mean friends, sex—slight dom!kook, food play, fingering, squirting, heavy use of the petname “pretty girl” bc im weak, strength kink, manhandling (oop!) w.c; 22.2k a/n; woof! my first fic for @goldenclosetnetwork​ 23 | jungkook’s birthday project! this goes out to all the closet romantics *ahem me cough* who doesn’t love pining between a cutie koo? a huge thank u for vivi @eerieedits​ for making this bbbBEAUTIFUL fic banner!  

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

if you like this fic pls consider giving a like n’share🥺💜🥺💜

It’s so easy to ignore the world. 

Maybe it’s a young-adult thing, but it gets difficult fitting into the 9-to-5 and playing to satisfy bosses that don’t entirely understand your work ethic. Maybe it’s out of complacency, or fear. But you prefer to let the world flow around you and when you’re needed, you’ll act. You’ve reached that point in your life where you enjoy the little things, satisfied by an extra hour of overtime tacked onto your paycheck, a new fabric softener, or finding the perfectly squishy yoga mat. 

You’ve finally started feeling comfortable in your shoes, uncaring as to whether you’re single or drowning in college debt, happy to live a relatively stable life. You’re grateful. There’s nothing more than you need than your happiness, and the love of your friends and family. 

Namely, your best friend from college. Jisoo always joked about how you two “won the lottery” as dorm rooms in freshman year were determined by lottery. Pulling numbers 883 and 884, you and Jisoo snagged a corner spot of the dormitory, leaving you two utterly cramped but utterly close as the years went by. Six years later and it’s still the case, the two of you have grown into talented working ladies. While you may not be able to spend time with each other the same way you did in school, you still care for each other. 

So when Jisoo shows up teary with a rumpled dress shirt and her hair waterfalling out of this morning’s bun, you break out the good alcohol and season three of Jane the Virgin for her. 

After the liquid is warm in your cheeks and you’ve fawned enough over Micheal and Rafael’s love triangle, you let Jisoo ramble. 

Jisoo has downed a whole bottle of soju on her own, while you’ve decided to have a tasteful glass of wine. You’d rather be tired wine drunk than wasted on soju. 

“Jungkook and I had a fight,” she warbles, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth, “it was totally stupid.” 

Your eyes flash, picturing Jisoo and Jungkook in quarrel. They’re the epitome of an Instagram-worthy couple, beautiful and deathly charming to a fault. They show nothing but kindness and sweetness to you whenever you third-wheel, not a lick of anger between them when you’re all together.

So a fight is something surprising. Jisoo and Jungkook, J-squared are a power couple. Saying their names next to each other just emits a sort of energy you can only akin to famous small screen couples like Troy and Gabriella or Cory and Topanga. Jisoo’s Instagram is belly full with sweet selfies of them together, the doe-eyed man always looking completely sweet and gentle to the woman in his arms.

You never piqued Jungkook as the type of guy who would pick a “stupid fight.” And you know Jungkook pretty well. 

Maybe a little too well. 

“He surprised me during my lunch break and he caught me talking to Doyoung and he thought I was flirting,” Jisoo is practically eating her sweater, her head falling between her flannel pyjama sleeves. 

“Doyoung, as in your ex Doyoung?” you raise a brow. 

She groans, glaring at you in earnest. “Not you, too! I told him it was ridiculous to get jealous, and then I told him how jealous I get when he’s around girls and I don’t need to tell him that,” she rolls her eyes, twisting her feet petulantly in her fuzzy socks, “but then you know what he says back?” 

You wince, swirling your wine glass, “That you’re crazy?” 

“That I’m crazy, exactly! How did you—” her bloodshot eyes zero in on you, where you’ve tucked yourself in the corner of the couch. You swirl the ruby liquid in your cup, watching the feet web around the cheap crystal, “you think I’m crazy too, don’t you?” 

You swallow your sigh, taking your time to finish your liquid in languid sips. Uneasy, you wish you could just sink through the couch in order to avoid this conversation. Jisoo’s heart is generally in the right direction, but in terms of emotions she has the kind of sensitivity that you prefer to ignore rather than tread. Jungkook is also equally emotional, but in a different way. He wears his heart on his sleeve, preferring to keep things straight as opposed to bottling it up like Jisoo. 

However the theoretic bottle has reached it’s brim and Jisoo’s tipping, fast. 

“I need to tell you something,” Jisoo is swerving, crawling like an infant on wobbly limbs to reach your corner of the couch. You almost stop her, tell her you can continue this conversation in the morning, it’s what you normally do when she drinks into a stupor. But tears are swimming in her glassy caramel eyes and she’s grappling onto your blanket, resting her head in her lap. 

Her glossy russet strands curtain her head, so you don’t see the expression on her face when she says her next words: 

“Jungkook told me he liked you senior year, and I told him you weren’t interested so I’d have a chance.” 

Wow. So that explains everything.

The memories that you’ve tried so hard to brush away, the feelings you’ve tried so hard and continue to try to suppress, are laid out in front of you on a rusted platter. You could laugh, you could fling the rest of the Pinot Grigio down your throat like fresh water on a hot day and call it a night. 

But instead you choke back your tears, and push her off because you’re hurt.  

Deep down you know you would’ve been less upset if she told you the week after Jisoo and Jungkook called it official. If you knew from the beginning, it would’ve been easier on your heart. But it's been over two years since the past, thinking you’ve been needlessly, stupidly, delusional in thinking that you could’ve possibly had a chance with Jungkook.

Because it could’ve been you. And the reason why Jisoo and Jungkook fought today? Now you know it’s because deep down, they know they’re each other’s second choice. 

You can’t even recall a time where Jungkook and Jisoo were together alone before they suddenly started dating, remembering how it used to be you and Jungkook before Jisoo found him one day in your shared apartment, utterly smitten. And now you know you weren’t delusional, because the feelings and the signals you two were exchanging in senior year was real. 

But it doesn’t stop the fact that over two years have passed. Two years of a serious relationship between Jisoo and Jungkook, and two years of you secretly loving him from an arm’s length. 

“You hate me,” Jisoo removes herself from you, voice trembling. The quick, dark part of your mind wants you to snap back of course I hate you. You’ve trusted Jisoo with your life all these years, she was the reason you got through college so gracefully, why you enjoyed the past seven years of your life. 

But the sentiment is stained, and all you can do is deliver a tired smile and stand up. “I don’t hate you,” you say, “I’m just, really overwhelmed. I can’t lie and say that I’m not hurt,” your fingers clutch the fake crystal in your grasp, and for once you’re thankful you’re not strong enough to break it, “but you two love each other now and there’s no point in dwelling in the ‘what-ifs’.” 

Now that you think about it, when was the last time Jisoo treated you like a best friend? You stare at your wine glass, thinking that the only time comfort is provided in this apartment is when Jisoo is upset, never when you’re upset. 

Jisoo bobs her head senselessly, agreeing to every word. It’s pathetic, seeing her on her knees and her eyes glimmering with the hope that you’d forgive her straightaway. She must feel awful. That’s good.  

You sigh, needing to be the bigger person. “You need to call Jungkook and tell him he has nothing to worry about though, after all, you two have history now. As much, if not more than Doyoung.” 

“Right,” she replies, biting her lip. It suddenly feels like you're talking to a wall, carrying a conversation that's long ended.

“As for us,” you have half a mind to slam your glass on the counter, but instead you give it a heavy hand, letting slowly thump to the coffee table, “I don’t think I want to see you two, for a while.” 

“Understandable.” 

“And I don’t want to help you move out anymore,” I just want you gone.  

“Right,” she whispers. The both of you will be completed with your lease in two months, and Jisoo and Jungkook have decided to move into Jungkook’s apartment. As for you, you haven’t decided as to whether you want to go through the whole process of moving out or looking for a new roommate. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so fucking sorry. I just was insecure as fuck in college and Jungkook was the first person I met in a long time that helped me feel more… like me.”

You want to say that she's right, she’s selfish. Her excuses aren’t palpable anymore. It’s too late. But if you were in Jisoo’s shoes, you’d think this apology is mere crumbs in comparison to your friendship. Why isn't she trying harder? Maybe because she doesn't know any better. After all, you never told her what you felt for him has morphed into love. 

You don’t even have to ask as to whether she’ll tell Jungkook this or not, you now know honesty is not her style. 

Jisoo doesn’t get a goodnight and a drunken kiss on the forehead like she usually does whenever you two have your late night talks. Instead, she seals herself to her own demise as you slam the door to your bedroom, effectively shutting each other out. 

Work is a bitch the following morning. You’re like molasses, rolling out of bed despite the whole world and its mother telling you to go back to sleep. 

Your feet are killing you as you make your walk to work, deciding to wear a pair of red-backed heels so you can stomp your way through your day. 

Your Wusband (Work-Husband) Kim Namjoon matches you step-for-step, eyes glued to his phone as he catches you on the sidewalk. “Woman on a mission,” he comments absentmindedly, eyes glued to his phone as he follows the click of your shoes to your favorite cafe. 

You spare a glance to your right hand-man, eyeing him appreciatively at his dedication to your morning routine. He’s your favorite co-worker, one who keeps you on time to your meetings and keeps you sane when you want to pull your hair out and dig out a coffin in your little cubicle. Namjoon’s long legs always seem to catch up with you during your workweek, whether it’s to get coffee in the morning or to talk shit about the latest gossip in the breakroom. 

The bell of the glass door tinkles in your ears as you enter the café, relatively busy for the morning rush. While you wait in line, Namjoon ticks off your activity list for today. 

“Meeting with Victoria is cancelled this morning,” you groan in relief, your supervisor Victoria always scares the shit out of you even when she’s not doing anything, “and just the usual proofing and whatever we have to do on the third floor today—can I get a large iced Americano with a pump of caramel? Thanks,” Namjoon moves aside so you can throw your order in as well, “and after work could you stop by Vernon’s? He took a sick day today and he has most of the manuscripts for the next issue.” 

“Done and done,” you swipe your card in the dip, tucking your card away in your zippered pouch. “So like, do Americanos taste any good? Like it’s literally watered down espresso how do you pay to drink watered down tar—” 

Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter. Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter swirling stray sugar crystals with his thumb and putting them in his napkin. What an impeccable display of Virgo energy, absentmindedly cleaning things he has no business doing. You scoff to yourself, recalling this morning that Jisoo got off the phone this morning with a stupid smile on her face. From the mirror image that Jungkook is excluding while he’s smiling on his cellphone like a smitten teenager, it seems like they’ve made up. 

Nevertheless the hurt from last night is still fresh in your bones, and you force yourself to look away despite the fact that your morning pick-me-ups are almost done and are sitting tauntingly next to Jungkook’s elbow. Does he really need to learn against the counter like he owns it? Hair slightly damp from the shower, your heart beats a little faster at the fresh image.His biceps are straining against his charcoal lycra long sleeve, which is slightly damp from his morning run. Snap out of it! You are a mature, working woman who does not swoon in the view of bulgy muscles, especially when the man who owns those muscles is taken. Suddenly there’s a call of your name, and two cups and a paper bag are put in front of Jungkook. 

He blinks, and you immediately pale when you see his eyes flit over your name surrounded by your favorite coral pink beverage. You feel struck as his head perks up at the name and he narrowly makes eye-contact—

“The fuck you’re doing,” Namjoon gripes, shoving your guava iced tea and croissant in your chest, “standing there like a moron as if we don’t got shit to do today.” 

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling at the brown paper bag to tug a piece of croissant between your teeth. The warmth, buttery pastry melts in your tastebuds. Ah, bread. Nothing like a little bit of carb to make you feel better. 

You’re suddenly thankful for Namjoon’s gargantuan torso from effectively blocking you from Jungkook, hauling you out of the coffee shop like a petulant toddler. He doesn’t even give you a chance to catch another secret look at the object of your affections, making sure you’re back in your work game before you enter the building. Even if he doesn’t know it, Kim Namjoon’s always got your back. 

Or in today’s case, breathing down your back. 

Without your third editor and a hard deadline coming up by the end of the week, you and Namjoon are working in tandem throughout your 9-5 to complete drafts for Big Hit Publishings Arts & Media section. Both of you take turns to bring snacks and feed each other, feeling like reading zombies and slaves to your desk as you remind each other to breathe throughout the whole ordeal. 

In complete honesty you don’t totally mind. Namjoon is a great partner-in-crime, and you both love what you do and do a damn good job at it. You call it “Buzzfeed but with Benefits.” 

And at least for today, you could quell the feelings in your chest from last night and this morning. Sure, you’ve always been okay with the pining you’ve had for Jungkook. The feeling comes and goes whenever it pleases, and since yesterday you’ve been okay with just admiring from afar and being their third wheel. 

However, now the feelings are acutely comparable to a third-degree burn with the help of Jisoo playing with fire. 

With a quiet exhale, you concede in your gaming chair (because it’s just so damn comfy to keep in the office.) You’re an adult and not a petty child, and you will not let this piece of information derail you from your calm, stable lifestyle. 

But honestly? Fuck Jisoo. 

“Let’s go, buckaroo,” Namjoon logs off for you, the cinnamon-y smell of his shampoo effectively waking up your senses, “it’s already 5:30. And you said you’d stop by Vern’s to get his drafts.” 

“Right,” you blurt, mindlessly putting away your papers and snack wrappers in your bag. You can’t believe the whole day’s gone already. 

“Maybe you don’t even have to go to his apartment. Just text him or whatever.” 

“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.” 

“And y/n?” Namjoon gives you a look that causes you to force a terse smile, one you give one too many times to higher-ups at work. It isn’t to insult Namjoon by any means, but you guys are partners, the kind that tell way too much but hide just enough to remain close from afar. “Take it easy, will you?” 

“I will,” you concede, stretching your arms, “I’m def overdue for a massage.” 

“You don’t look sick,” you scoff, taking in the casual look your co-editor boasts as he leans casually against the doorway. 

Hansol Vernon Chwe is the epitome of fluffy, decked out in large electric blue sweats and his russet brown hair curling softly above his porcelain skin. Not only is he your co-editor, but also a friend from college. Not to the extent that you were with Jisoo and Jungkook, but you operated in the same publishing club and managed to get partnering internships that made you the co-workers you are today. You see a little bit of that collegiate youth in Vernon right now, as he looks well-rested and fresh faced despite the fact he probably didn’t apply moisturizer or drink enough water today.

“But you kinda do,” he tilts his head, noting the heels that adorn your feet, “you’re wearing your sexy shoes today, that means something’s going on.” 

“Gee, ever the ladies’ man,” you scoff, getting under his arm to invite yourself inside, “all I want is the completed interviews so we can pick out the best parts and draft them. Then I’ll be on my merry way.” 

“Oh c’mon, we’ve been talking nothing but work this whole damn month. What happened to college when we’d talk hours about House Hunters, the safeness of library sex, that little furry thing in Lincoln Hall’s urinal? That was prime conversation.” 

“Vern, I’m just here for the drafts,” you sit at his tiny kitchen table, glaring at his open laptop.  

“You could’ve just emailed me,” he teases, twisting around his chair so he can rest his arms against the back. “But since you’re here, that means you probably wanna spill some tea but you’re too upset to admit it.” 

“If I talk will you stop talking like that?” 

“Yes. Give me the juicy details. Need some juicy juice.” 

“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.” 

“Uh, this is my apartment.” 

“My point still stands,” you make another face at his outfit, “you look like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”  

Vernon purses his lips, scooting his chair closer to yours. He’s unfazed by your insult, far used to your defenses being higher up than Fort Knox. He looks up at you with his pretty lashes and deceivingly sweet caramel eyes, leaning his head along the backrest. “C’mon, tell me what’s bothering you,” he says in a gentle tone, coaxing you open. 

He always knew how to do it for you, a little bit of sweet talking and that clear open gaze always reduced you to shreds in university. For him, it always took a good meal and some sci-fi movies to get him to talk. That must be why you’ve stayed friends for so long, you two knew how to connect. 

Finally you crack, kicking off your shoes and hoping the sharp end doesn’t land on his cat. You hear Luna meow in protest but she’s got great reflexes. Unbuttoning the first three buttons of your stuffy blazer, you air out your cleavage, not caring about Vernon’s gaze. He’s seen worse. 

“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”

“Ah, yeah. The guy who like, lived at the gym and the dining hall? Haven’t seen him in a minute,” his eyes seem to glaze over the glory days, reminiscing in the simultaneous safetynet and stressor that made up your early twenties, “didn’t you guys hit it off real well? Like I remember you ditched like—three sci-fi nights to study with him. Who even studies at 1AM?” 

“Yeah, we did,” and you can’t help but frown at as you remember the 7-Eleven runs, the utter warmth you felt when he would wipe a stray rice grain off your cheek, and how happy you felt to laugh so much with him it hurt, “but uh. Jisoo got drunk last night, because they had a fight. And she sort of admitted to me that she sabotaged our relationship and told Jungkook I wasn’t interested in him so they could start dating. Two years later and here we are.” 

A pause. And then, “Want a beer?” 

Vernon doesn’t even wait for a response when he gets up, bare feet slapping against the tile as he prepares some drinks and snacks for you. 

“That’s pretty fucked up,” he practically sing-songs among the cacophony of popcorn pop-pop-popping in the microwave. The aroma of buttery kernels is all but a relief, reminding you of movie matinees, “and like, she knew you liked him! It was totally obvious, even if you didn’t spell it out for her.” 

“Yeah,” you practically gushed to Jisoo those past two months, every waking moment with heart-eyes over the talented graphic designer Jeon Jungkook. 

“I can’t believe Jisoo would keep that a secret from you for so long. Like, can you even trust her anymore?” 

“Don’t know, was she even my bestfriend or was I just a good roommate to her?” you ask. Vernon is holding two beers in one hand and a bag of popcorn by the tips of his fingers in the other, careful to not burn himself. Opening the beer for you, you thank him and take a long swig.

“Well, good thing you’re still not in love with him or whatever. That would really suck. Unless—”

The look on your face says it all. You’re practically snotting into your bottle, your face tucked into your chin as you fight hard to stop the tears you’ve been suppressing for the last two years. “Don’t give me your pity,” you garble, turning away from the sad look Vernon gives you as he wraps his arms around you. 

The tears are soft and gentle, flowing freely onto the cotton of Vernon’s arms as you let it out. 

“‘M’not,” he concedes, rubbing his chin into your neck. He really is a lot like Luna, just like his  cat ready to give you affection. “Let’s just, get some take-out and watch Hamilton or something.” 

He lets you wear his matching sweat suit, lime green, as you order Thai food and rap along to Hamilton’s sick beats. Vernon does a better job keeping the flow, but you’re having a good time being his hype man as he parades around the living room like it’s 1776. 

You go home that night around ten o’clock, feeling noticeably lighter and more relaxed. Be that it may you are still wearing the sweatpants and heels ensemble, you feel comforted. 

The apartment is quiet when you walk in, not a single light turned on. You get a slice of the city lights bleeding in from the organza curtains, which allow you to kick off your heels and hobble to where you think the kitchen counter is. 

Today is Jisoo’s day to cook dinner. You can tell she decided to cook today from the faint smell of Japanese curry and a small unwashed plate in the sink. Whenever it was someone’s turn, they usually left an extra bowl or serving in it for the other roommate when they got home. Unsurprisingly, you find no such thing on the counter or in the fridge. 

You’re not upset, but rather decided. If Jisoo is going to let your friendship fade off with no intention of redeeming herself, then you should give her the same amount of energy back. You realize now the apology she gave last night wasn’t for you, but empty words to make her feel better and mend whatever toxicity she’s created in her own relationships. People like Namjoon and Vernon reminded you that you didn’t need to try and earn other people’s friendships. 

It’s disappointing, but the feeling is all but too familiar. 

If you could describe Jisoo as anything, it would be the color pink. Blushing, beautiful, beguiling pink. The way she flushes when Jungkook does an uncalled for grandiose gesture of romance, or when she wears a hot magenta number when she’s hosting a fashion show. Jisoo is the personification of La vie en rose, unbothered and unabashed.  

But now all you see when you think of Jisoo? Nothing but red. 

With that, you go in your room and untack the polaroid of you and Jisoo at the carnival last month, putting it away in your junk drawer to be forgotten. 

“You’re running away.” 

“Am not.” 

“Are too,” that interjection comes from Vernon’s roommate, Jung Hoseok. He’s been watching you two bicker over work for the past hour while he plays GTA5, failing to get a good hard carry because you and Vernon are too busy discussing whatever finishing touches you need on your final draft. 

“No one asked for your opinion, Jung,” you throw over your shoulder. 

“I’m just saying,” Hoseok flicks his wrist and nabs a tank, “you never wanna go home, you eat all our food, and I found your pyjamas in my laundry basket.” 

“You said your basket was the blue one,” you hiss under your breath. 

“The navy blue one,” Vernon chirps unhelpfully, “not the electric blue one.” 

Hoseok hits “save” on his campaign, disconnecting from his PS4 and stretching his lean limbs. “I mean, we could use a third roommate,” Hoseok jokes, getting up from the couch and grabbing a handful of M&Ms from your bowl, “you do make a bomb mac n’cheese.” 

“Appreciated,” you relent when Hoseok presses a kiss to your cheek and tells Vernon he’ll be back late working, leaving you and Vernon alone in their shared apartment. When Hoseok is gone, you stare at the door, tilting your head, “y’know,” you remark, “Hoseok’s a cool guy, why did I never hang out with him in college?” 

“Because he was stoned the majority of senior year and you just didn’t vibe with that crowd.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“But, you’re trying to change the subject,” Vernon carefully untacks your hands from your keyboard, knowing that you two have already been done with this month's issue and you’re now just mindlessly re-reading emails. “You’ve been here since Thursday, and now it’s Saturday. And as much as Hoseok and I like having you around so you can wake me up before we go to work, it’d be nice to throw me a bone and let me in on what you’re thinking right now.” 

You frown, noting Vernon’s large hand covering your laptop closed. He isn’t going to remove his hand anytime soon unless you talk. “Jungkook’s helping Jisoo pack up her half of the apartment this weekend and I don’t want to be there,” you say, short and simple. 

“You miss her?” 

“Yeah,” you admit honestly. You hate this version of yourself, unable to even look at Jisoo nowadays despite the fact you’re under the same roof for the remainder of the month. It’s hard to believe that the roommate from six years ago finally got under your skin, cancelling out all the years of friendship because of one silly relationship, “sad she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.” 

“Did you talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you reply despondently, “if she cared at all she would’ve to apologize again by now.”

Vernon figures, and his neutral expression doesn’t change as he leads you to the couch, brushing away Hoseok’s things so you two can get comfy. You busy yourself with the remote, exiting the PS4 homepage to scroll Netflix. 

“And are you trying to get over him?” 

“I mean, yeah,” you have been, but it’s a little hard when you’ve been contentedly pining. It was easy to keep your feelings bottled up because you originally thought Jisoo and Jungkook were meant to be for each other for the past two years. Now you're still pining but ruefully bitter at Jisoo.

“It’s not fair, y’know. She broke girl code, bros before hoes. Or is it chicks before dicks?” Vernon shakes his head at his lame attempt to get you to smile, which works anyway because Vernon’s silly and his sense of humor always gets you a little loose. “It’s your house too, you shouldn’t feel like you don’t belong there.” 

“Well I was supposed to help her move out this weekend, and I’d prefer it if Jungkook didn’t know what was going on.” 

“What?” your friend furrows his thick brows together, tucking his hands under his knees as he leans into your stubborn expression. “You’re gonna let Jungkook go on with his life not knowing that his relationship is based on a lie. That’s not cool. Even if you’re into him, he’s still your friend.” 

Damn, when did Vernon get so good at giving advice? Truth is Vernon’s always been good at dishing advice, you’ve just been privy to what you wanted to reveal to him. The first year or so being together outside of college was always about work, saving each other’s asses to ensure you two got that promotion and aim higher and higher. Now that goal is out of the way, and what better way to reconnect over some shoddy romance straight out of a Degrassi special? 

“I know,” you hug your knees tight to your chest, “when I’m ready, okay?” 

“Okay,” he agrees, because he’s not a pusher, “do you know the best way to get over someone?” 

“What?” 

“The best way to get over someone, is to get under someone," he emphasizes that point with his hands, sliding one under the other with a wiggle of his thick brows.

You slap him on the shoulder, “Vern, you disgust me.” 

“But it works!” 

“I’m not going on Tinder to find a fuckbuddy.” 

“You don’t have to look on Tinder or Tumble.” 

“Bumble.” 

“Whatever,” and his eyes flicker to his lap, where his pale fingertips turn red as he grips the edge of a throw pillow. "If you really don't wanna find someone, I can help." 

Is Vernon offering himself up? He is offering to fuck your brains out in the hope that you could inevitably fuck out your interest in Jungkook? Your eyes flicker over to Vernon's form on the couch, who's tucked in the couch just as you are. 

It’s true that you find Vernon attractive, and to some extent he definitely finds you attractive as well otherwise he wouldn’t have suggested the idea. It’s just that in college you never viewed him in that kind of light, probably because you were always so caught up in Jungkook. But tonight you can’t seem to ignore the eagerness hidden in Vernon’s carmine gaze, and how shiny and touchable his chocolate locks look under the setting sun. 

“I don’t want our friendship to change,” you reply slowly, furrowing your brows. “I appreciate it, but I don’t know. It sounds like a temporary fix.” 

“Can’t knock it if you don’t try it,” and out of curiosity, you don’t shy away when Vernon leans over to you, squeezing himself between the couch so he can tuck you in his arms. “I want to help you, but only if you want to.” 

Maybe it’s the frustration you feel with Jisoo, Jungkook’s ignorance, or the fact that you haven’t felt physical pleasure in such a long time, but you soften into Vernon’s hold. He’s relaxed, nothing betraying him as he waits patiently for your answer. You’ve always admired how much he kept up his “cool as a cucumber” demeanor. He isn’t the type of guy to let life pass him by, but he’s the kind of person who walks along life, embracing the ups and downs like old friends. He’s the ocean waves that crest along the shore, pushing and pulling along without a care in the world. 

He’s the textbook opposite of Jeon Jungkook, which is why you give Vernon the okay to lean in and press his lips against yours. 

His kisses are soft, and he takes great care in making sure you’re comfortable with this new step in your relationship. It almost feels as if you’re cutting corners, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty that you revel in the way Vernon’s hands trail under your too-large t-shirt. 

The pleasure you’ve ached for is there, bubbling low in the pit of your belly. It’s hard to get you out of your mind however, because this man isn’t the one you love. His kisses hold no power, only brief reprieve. Your heart doesn’t palpitate and your palms don’t sweat, you’re just languid. 

You’re greedy and selfish, but you remind yourself that it’s okay to allow yourself of these freedoms, even for a little bit. As Vernon finds your sweet spot that has you rolling your hips against his, you find that temporary fix isn’t a bad start at all. 

When you trudge back to your apartment that night after much reluctance, your face is still flushed and you think you smell a little too much like Vernon’s cologne. But the fact that still stands is that you're satiated, and you feel a tiny percent closer to moving on. 

The television is glowing with a terrible reality TV show, angry brides upset over cake layers or whatever. Jungkook and Jisoo have fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by half-empty boxes. Jungkook has his arm lazily over Jisoo, her petite body fitting perfectly between his chest and the crook of his neck. 

You scoff when you spy Jisoo's bedazzled manicure digging into Jungkook's bicep, as if someone's going to take him away if she doesn't hold tight.

With stiff muscles you spare one look at Jungkook, ignoring the pang in your chest as you weave between boxes to turn the TV off. Barely an iota of your feelings have dissipated since your previous tryst with Vernon not an hour ago. Looking at Jungkook brings it all back, unfortunately. You suppose the feelings will pass with time. The soft hum of the television ceases, and you’re bathed in a room that feels dark and empty, despite the apparent life in the room. 

There’s some bleary talk coming from the couch as you walk to your bedroom, and if Jungkook is sleepily mumbling your name in question, you pretend you don’t hear. 

“So, where’s y/n? I thought she was going to help us pack.” 

It’s an innocent enough question, as Jungkook scans the corner of the living room hallway that leads to the bedrooms. You haven’t come out yet. He knows that you love sleeping in on the weekends, but he hopes the smell of fresh food will coax you to the table. His pan is sizzling in protest, telling Jungkook to quit talking and flip the hashbrowns. He's fried up three, in the hopes you’d be up for some crispy potatoes. He knows how much you love potatoes, especially at 2AM when you’re craving fries and a McFlurry combo. 

Instead Jisoo mutters, “You toasted too much bread, you know I don’t eat bread like this,” she’s pulling slice by slice out of the toaster, until there’s a stack of six golden toasts in the middle of the kitchen table. 

A little part of him wishes to quell the precursor to the argument there. It would be so easy for Jungkook to say, “the extras are for me” because he’s trying to gain weight, and that would be that. 

Instead he continues with his unanswered question and replies honestly, “I made extra toast for y/n, babe. She was supposed to help us pack but I haven’t seen her all weekend.” But he’s pretty sure you came home last night, unless that was his imagination. 

Jisoo pulls a carafé of apple juice out of the fridge, pouring the amber liquid into two glass cups. “Ah, she said she had some last minute things to do for work. Y’know, Big Hit always wants a big hit.” 

He chuckles, tilting his head as Jisoo gives him a small smile from the kitchen table. Jisoo is always good at cheesy jokes. “She must love her job, huh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Her articles are really good, too,” the air smells like butter and Italian seasoning, as he places one hash brown on Jisoo’s plate, and two on his. He knows you edit in the Arts & Media section, and loves how you make it a point to include video games and modern graphics when it’s deemed appropriate. “She did a piece on the evolution of RPG and I thought her commentary was really spot-on.” 

He brings breakfast over to the table, while Jisoo places two slices of toast on his plate, one buttered and one with strawberry preserves. Breakfast is a quiet, but peaceful affair. Jungkook takes note of how Jisoo takes extra long to complete her meal, her fork creating ribbons in her little blob of magenta jam. He allows himself to complete his first hashbrown and a slice of toast before asking the difficult question. 

“Are you and y/n okay?” and he also takes note when Jisoo’s ministrations on her jelly stop, as she looks up at him with her big brown eyes. 

“We’re fine,” she insists, “just normal roommate issues, I promise.” 

“Maybe I should text y/n,” Jungkook says, pulling out his phone. “Lemme help you fix this, wouldn’t want you and her in a bad place when you’re about to move out.” 

“Baby, why are you so concerned about y/n?” Jisoo croons while his thumb hovers over your contact, his screen showing a two-year old selfie you two took during a study session early on in your friendship. He can’t remember the last time you two took a picture together out of spite, one without Jisoo. Jisoo’s hand pulls him away from his phone, rubbing small circles between his palm. 

He wants to ask, why aren’t you? But he sees the terseness in Jisoo’s smile, as her eyes fix between the interlocked fingers. He has a feeling he’s hovering somewhere he isn’t allowed to be in. Maybe it really is roommate stuff and it’s none of his business, but he feels a little insulted being left out because you and Jungkook are just as much best friends as you were in college. 

Or are you? 

This question plagues him throughout the day, and when Jungkook packs enough boxes for the weekend and says he needs to go home, Jisoo for once doesn’t argue. Normally Jisoo would cling to him like a koala, murmur simultaneously adorable and dirty things in his ear and lead him to her bedroom to coop up for hours on end. But Jisoo says she’s tired and needs some alone time, which is also fine. 

He doesn’t feel like going home, and instead heads straight to the gym. A couple pumps wouldn’t hurt, and it would clear his head. It’s nearly five in the evening when his body is thrumming with the afterglow of his post-workout, and he decides to take a little cool down in the mall and treat himself to a smoothie. 

It must be kismet when he sees you coming out of the bookstore, looking a little winded but no less professional in your beige blazer set and rose gold iPad. Whenever he hung around your apartment with Jisoo and you’d come home from work, he’d make it a point to acknowledge your plethora of multicolored skirt-suits. He never needs to be professional in his place of work, and admires how much effort you put in. 

“Hey!” he jogs up to you, and he catches the way your shoulders jump at his voice. “We missed you today.”

Your smile curls into something dry, and you twist your spine like rusty hinges to face him. In turn, his smile dims a little, wondering if he’s doing something wrong. Maybe you’re tired? He catches the line of sweat that glistens your baby hairs, and how your hair is done up but has fallen a few centimeters with some pieces falling out. 

“Jungkook,” you exhale, “lifting boxes wasn’t enough of a workout?” 

“You know me,” he replies stiffly, hiking his backpack higher upon his shoulder. Why does this conversation feel so awkward? “So, finishing up work? Sucks you have to work on a Sunday.” 

“Ah, it wasn’t so bad,” you face relaxes a little as you explain your work, “it was children’s day at the bookstore and they were watching Disney movies. I’m writing a piece on how I believe Ratatouille is Pixar’s magnum opus. Interviewed some kids, I wanted an expert opinion.”  

“Ratatouille is the superior film,” he declares with a firm nod, “after all, anyone can cook.” He revels in the small smile he manages to retrieve from you, immediately understanding the inside joke. If he came out of the gym five minutes earlier, he probably would’ve been able to catch you in the bookstore. What a shame, he would’ve loved to see you play around with the kids. 

At the mention of food, the mall manages to silence itself enough for him to catch the grumbling coming from your stomach. He laughs when your cheeks heat. 

“I was on my way to get some smoothies,” he jabs a thumb in the direction of the food court, “wanna catch up and get a bite?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I have a lot of work to edit,” disappointment pangs in his chest at your easy rejection, but he ignores it, “I kinda wanna save some money too, still not sure if I’m staying in the apartment after Jisoo moves.” 

He doesn’t know what compels him to take your shoulders and wheel you in the direction of the food court, much to your protest and whines. “C’mon, explain to me why Ratatouille is the magnum opus—I need to defend why The Incredibles is superior. I’ll treat you to dinner.” 

“What? I can pay for my own food—” 

“And I can’t treat my best friend to a nice meal once in a while?” 

That has you stopping in your tracks, and Jungkook nearly barrels his chest into your head if not for the grippy soles of his Adidas Ultraboosts. He can’t see your face, but his hands note how your muscles cord tightly between the cotton of your blazer. 

He doesn’t understand why you’re so tense. Was it because he called you his best friend? Well, you are? At one point he felt that way, early on in college. The position just stuck with you. And when Jisoo told him you weren’t interested, he was perfectly fine with the platonic relationship. It was nice to have someone to talk media and video games to, someone not as chaotic as Jimin and someone not as deterred as Yoongi. 

Although, maybe as of late he hasn’t been so much of a friend. It’s no one’s fault, he’s been caught up with work and Jisoo’s move, he hasn’t said so much as a “hey how are you” when you’re around. He can’t blame you. 

Suddenly his mind blanks, the mall fading away as he focuses on how small you look as your eyes dart between the parking lot and the food court. Jisoo and Jungkook have been so caught up on each other lately, that he fears you’re starting to separate yourself.

“Um, this place is good,” you tug him by the elbow and lead him to a fast food joint. 

When he picks up both your orders and comes over to your saved table, you’re talking animatedly on the phone. You’re laughing, looking at Jungkook as if he’s the one intruding and you’re muttering a hushed “sorry” as you continue the tail end of the conversation. 

“Yes, Joonie. Go with section two, I know my shit. I’m your Work Wife for a reason, Umji in PR could never compare,” you’re giggling like you’re five years younger, and Jungkook feels stuck in a timelapse. 

He watches you go, throwing around names and terms that he’s so lost on but so desperate to understand. He knows nothing about your life other than the one that’s tied with Jisoo, which is a damn shame. Since when did he inevitably downgrade you from “best friend” to “his girlfriend’s roommate?” 

“I’m sorry,” you turn your phone over and push it to the side, giving Jungkook a smile as well, albeit weaker, “let’s dig in!” 

To his relief the dinner goes as good as it should be. You have your tray practically overflowing at the seams, all on Jungkook’s dime. It has his heart swelling with pride, he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. There’s fries spilling out from the corners, and two sandwiches because you couldn’t decide between a chicken sandwich and a burger. 

Food gets you amicable, and he doesn’t mind when he does most of the talking. You’re engrossed in his talk, lettuce hanging out of your mouth as you’re rapt with attention as he recalls a story that happened at work recently with Mingyu. You ask questions in all the right places and he sucks up all your attention like a happy pill, and it feels nice to be able to lead a conversation for once. 

“Jeez, I’m getting the burger sweats,” you giggle to yourself, and his smile brightens at your positive change in attitude. Food always helps. 

When you remove your thick high-collar blazer, that’s when he sees it. 

“Seeing someone?” he asks, eyes flickering curiously towards the violet bruises that bloom across your neck. 

“What–oh,” you have the audacity to look embarrassed, hands clutching your neck like a shield, “no, just a hookup.” 

A messy hookup, too. Unless you had a thing for showing off marks, which doesn’t seem to be the case. “Didn’t peg you for someone who hooks up,” he says more to himself than you, but you catch him on his impulse jab. 

Your eyes narrow and your defenses go up, “I’m trying to get over someone,” you snip back, busying your hands by crushing up your greasy sandwich wrappers. 

“Am I allowed to state my opinion?” 

“Since you asked so politely, no.” 

He sighs, “I just don’t think that’s the best way to get over someone,” heck, Jungkook doesn’t even know who exactly you’re trying to get over. He just knows that you’re far too smart and independent to let yourself resort to such matters. 

“It isn’t, but it’s really the best option as of now,” you reply curtly. 

And his gaze saddens as he sees you fold your blazer over your arm, indicating that your time is up. Jungkook is aware the comment he made is out of line, and it weakens him knowing that you don’t even want to pick a fight with him. He can’t even find it in himself to apologize properly. 

He doesn’t know if he’s more sad that you’re pining over someone unattainable or upset at himself for not knowing you’ve been harboring feelings for someone. If you really think hooking up is your only option, you must be really hung about whoever you’re into as of late. 

“If it’s worth anything,” Jungkook adds, wanting to leave on a high note, “fuck that guy. He clearly doesn’t deserve you.” 

A small, secret smile plays on your lips, “Yeah, I like to believe that.” 

“I’m anxious,” Namjoon’s mantra makes the whole energy in the room wobbly, paired with the fact the two of you are squished between cardboard boxes as Jungkook aimlessly moves things around like a Tetris screen. 

The only time you feel remotely comfortable basking in your home is when Jisoo is gone. Oh-so conveniently is the Big Hit building undergoing maintenance today, so you and Namjoon have decided to work from home in your apartment. Although you thought by now that Jisoo’s boxes would be long gone and tucked away in Jungkook’s place, instead you’re living in an episode of Ed, Edd and Eddy and the cardboard is practically wall-to-wall. You also thought by now that Jungkook would have no reason to show up unannounced anymore, but apparently that’s not the case. 

“I have, anxiety,” Namjoon adjusts his glasses for the nth time this afternoon, brain not fixed enough to focus on the screen of his chrome MacBook, “anxiety, anxiety. I can’t right now. I need my weighted blanket and a pillow.” 

“Namjoon, I can get both of those for you if we just send in this last spread,” you coo gently, as if placating a baby. You make brief eye contact with Jungkook from the other side of the room, his lips quirking in amusement as he stacks a box of clothes by the kitchen. 

“Do you feel my palms? My palms, they’re like a fucking fountain you need to feel them—” your Wusband approaches you like a zombie, leaning over you and tripping over his criss-crossed legs before he topples over you. 

“Blegh, get off of me you sweat giant!” you cry with a good-natured laugh, although the grip of Namjoon’s palms under your shoulders are damp and slimy, “Joon, I can’t get you your blanket if you’re crushing my boobs.” 

Namjoon finally relents, untacking himself to rest his chin on your glass coffee table. “Fine.” 

“Look over the last column and I’ll bring your blanket, okay?” 

Pushing yourself off the ground, you shuffle your way out of the living room through the maze of boxes and into the hallway. It feels like your apartment is less of an apartment and more of a storage space when you’re trapped in-between two lines of boxes, and Jungkook effectively blocking you from entering your room. He was just in the living room but now he’s come from the linen closet, standing between the entrance of your room. 

“Sorry,” he pops his head out from a smaller box, one filled with designer costume jewelry. 

“It’s fine,” you chirp, barely making eye contact as you shuffle over the boxes. 

Your toe drags over the lid of one of the open boxes in an attempt to move diagonally. You nearly crash your face into the hardwood if not for Jungkook’s arm stretching out to catch you. In seconds he manages to catch all your weight in one hand, pulling you to him with your hip pressed against his. Your breath traps itself in your neck. Your subconscious fears that if you speak now, you’ll babble about how attractive it is that he’s able to catch you as easily as grabbing a light sheet of paper. 

“Careful,” his voice rumbles in his throat as he regards you with a wan smile. 

Your “thanks” is barely uttered as you slip into your room, heaving your weighted blanket and a pillow in your arms to let Namjoon borrow. 

The burgundy quilted fabric is hunched over your shoulder, draped around your body so it’s easier for you to carry on your back. You try to eradicate the memory of Jungkook’s arms, lean and strong as he held you to him moments before.

Ugh, you thought messing around with Vernon would stop your silly pining. It seems that it’ll take more than a couple rounds to satiate your curiosity. For such a kind guy, Jungkook seems like a wolf in sheep’s clothing when it comes to the bedroom. 

You can imagine him being so kind in the beginning, coaxing you to wan and bend to his every wish and command. And then when you keen a little too hard at the attention, you bet a switch would flip and he’d grab you—

The blanket flops around your back, and you’re sorely reminded that you’re thirsting over a taken man, yet again.  

Jungkook makes it extremely difficult for him to be hateable. It’s by nature that he’s just so damn likeable. Heck, he’s pretty much packed seventy percent of the things Jisoo should be packing right now. 

Making sure not to trip again, on your feelings and your blanket, you successfully reach a tired Namjoon. You tuck your koala-shaped pillow under your co-editor’s arms, and drape the heavy blanket over him like a cape. He’s giving you a thumbs up and a toothless smile, the previous meltdown overcome as he focuses on finishing the last of today’s work. He’s slipped on some noise-cancelling earphones, presumably filled with generic coffee-house music or rain playlists. 

Wordlessly you go to your nook to prepare some tea. It’s getting late and a warm cup would distract you from the impending deadline. Despite the fact that you and Namjoon are 99% of the way done, his previous freak-out has you on live-wire and you could use a little caffeine. 

Placing three mugs on the counter you call, “Jungkook, tea?” 

“Yes please,” you stiffen when you feel Jungkook magically appear right behind you, his head peering over your shoulder, “with milk and honey.” 

Deciding to give Jungkook the beehive-shaped mug because it’s very on-brand for him, you begin to steep the leaves in your kettle while he spoons the honey. 

“So,” his words are slow as the drip of honey, the amber goo taking its time to descend into his mug as it falls from the dipper. “Is that the guy you’re trying to get over?” 

Jungkook lifts his brows towards Namjoon, who is softcore jamming to his white noise playlist. It’s cute as to how curious Jungkook is about Namjoon. While you try to keep your work life separate, there really isn’t much backstory to your personal life to warrant that kind of divide. 

“Namjoon,” you state aloud, watching Namjoon sing badly to himself, “why, are you gonna beat him up for me?” 

“I can take him,” you can practically hear Jungkook’s chest pop out. 

With a roll of your eyes, you reach to kill the heat off the tea kettle, “No need. He isn’t the guy I’m trying to get over.” 

“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?” 

“Shit!” being caught off guard, you grab at the handle of your kettle without a pot holder, burning your fingertips. In seconds Jungkook’s larger hand encases your own, pulling you over to the sink to soak your fingers in cool running water.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jungkook is chanting like a sinner at church, searching for any sign of pain in your visage, “I shouldn’t have asked while you’re working with a hot stove.” 

You suppress a sigh, relaxing your fingers as Jungkook soothes the burn with his gentle hold, “Shouldn’t have asked in the first place,” you mumble. 

“I know,” he replies, “guess I’m just feeling a little left out. We don’t talk like we used to. I guess I’m getting a little too nosy for my own good, aren’t I?” 

You don’t understand what’s going on with his incessant babbling as of late, but you chalk it up to work stress and Jisoo’s move. Having no answers to his honest reply, you gently untack your red palm from his grip, assuring him that you’re fine. 

Namjoon steps into your kitchenette, being surprisingly careful as he takes your potholder to pour himself a cup of tea. If the tea is oversteeped and bitter he doesn’t say anything, only leans against the counter as he regards you two with slow sips. “You alright?” 

“M’fine,” you reply stubbornly, avoiding Jungkook’s worried stare. 

Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.” 

“No—”

“Hand.” 

His deep voice coerces you, and you immediately slap the back of your palm onto Namjoon’s. Your partner brushes his golden hands over the tiny blister that’s forming over your fingertips. “Can’t have my Work Wife outta commission.” 

“Your Work Wife is fine,” you gripe back. 

Your co-worker’s eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s for a brief second, Jungkook regarding him in curiosity as he stares at your connected palms. “I have some aloe in my bag for sunburns,” Namjoon offers helpfully, ignoring the weird glances, “I’ll give it to you in a bit. Also, I’ve overcome my sudden bout of stress and I’m ready to email our progress to Victoria. We’re done for the day.” 

“Awesome, thanks Joonie,” you exhale, relaxing against the sink, “wanna go eat somewhere?” 

“There’s a niche place in Itaewon if you wanna check it out?” Namjoon offers.

Jungkook interjects, “Jisoo ordered pizza if you guys wanna share with us?” 

“Pizza also sounds good—” 

“We don’t wanna interrupt your alone time,” you gracefully cut in, stepping in front of Namjoon despite the fact that he’s easily towering over you. 

Jungkook snorts, “I’ll have enough alone time with her when she moves in, don’t worry. Besides, I ordered three pies because I wanted to try three different flavor combos. I need two additional judges.” 

“Thanks Jungkook but,” you stifle a cry when Namjoon jabs you in the back with his thumb. It’s pressing, digging into the small of your back as if he’s trying to telepathically tell you that you’re being rude, “but… I don’t know if I can eat three slices! Namjoon on the other hand, can probably eat enough to fairly judge.” 

“Great,” Jungkook’s smile is blinding, causing your grin to stiffen as he looks for his phone to shoot Jisoo a quick text that they’re having dinner for four. 

Once Jungkook’s out of earshot, Namjoon tugs you by the sleeve, “The hell was that?” he hisses in your ear, “you look like you’re about to shit and piss your pants at the same time.” 

“I just don’t feel comfortable eating with them,” you cross your arms in defiance. You think back to just a week ago where you and Jisoo reluctantly attempted to eat breakfast together one morning. You provided minimal small talk while Jisoo clinged to her phone, replying to you in non-committal clipped tones. 

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” you retort, “you got me into this mess, you’re gonna stay with me ‘till the end.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, woman,” Namjoon throws his arms out exasperatedly, oolong tea nearly sloshing onto his hand, “just suck it up or I revoke your bragging rights to that snag you got on our spread next Monday.” 

“Not my fault you couldn’t get Kim Taeyeon on the spread,” you smirk. 

“Well I didn’t so happen to stalk the Sephora she frequents for the past two weeks—” 

“I didn’t stalk her I just so happened to need a new Fenty Gloss Bomb every other day—”

“I’m home, Jungkookie!” 

Your face contorts, your playful energy melting to the hardwood as your previous banter with Namjoon evaporates into thin air. Work bags in one hand and three boxes of pizza balancing in the other, Jisoo kicks off her heels somewhere across the door and places the pizza on the dining table. 

Jungkook immediately appears by her side, and you look away and Jisoo plants a heavy kiss on his lips. She cracks open one eye as she notices you and Namjoon hanging by the kitchenette, “Oh,” she mumbles at her audience, “you’re here?” 

Yes, you bimbo. I’m here in my own apartment. 

“I guess you didn’t read my text that they’ll be joining us for dinner,” Jungkook cuts in good-naturedly, “we have way too much pizza anyway. Have a seat, guys.” 

Jungkook navigates the kitchen as easily as your own, and you slump in your chair while Namjoon exchanges pleasantries with Jisoo. She looks impeccable, hair in a tight chignon and a tight navy dress as she converses with your co-editor. 

“I’m starving,” Jungkook announces, making sure to place a slice on Jisoo’s plate. He shuffles through the other boxes, making brief eye contact with you when he decides to put a slice on yours as well, “you like these toppings, right?” 

You regard the greasy, hearty piece of cheese and bread with a curt nod. You feel Jisoo’s eyes laser on your skin, “Yeah, thanks Kook.” 

Namjoon, Jisoo and Jungkook mostly stir up the conversation, you opting to eat as slow as possible to avoid any conversation. It’s easy to blend back and let them take over, as Jisoo loves to talk about her fashion firm and Namjoon is a great listener. 

Jungkook and Namjoon make it a point to direct the conversation to you from time to time, and you let the ball leave your court as soon as it lands. You prefer to keep your responses short and simple, especially when Jisoo is so eager to talk about the new silk drapes she’s installing for Jungkook’s windows.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, and you discreetly look under the table to read the incoming text message. 

vernie bernie: would u like to do the devil’s dance tonight

vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle? 

vernie bernie: beatin ya bean? 

You: ohmyGOD 

vernie bernie: or y’know, u could just come ovr and chill. Hobi made some bomb tres leches

You: call. Ill come after dinner

“Are you okay, y/n?” your head bounces up to meet Jungkook’s gaze, “you’ve barely eaten and you haven’t talked much.” 

“Oh you know, she’s just stressed about the upcoming spread,” Namjoon steps in for you, and you send him a discrete, but grateful smile. He’s always impeccable at reading the room, “she’s just nervous about her interview with Kim Taeyeon, but I think you did her interview justice.” 

“No way, the singer Kim Taeyeon?” Jungkook gushes, regarding you with stars in his eyes, “your interviews are always so great, y/n. You ask really good questions. Like that one spread about  Lee Yonghwa’s art gallery? Really cool.” 

You notice the way Jisoo presses her lips together, a thin line as if she’s trying to seal away words that she’ll regret saying. She’s jealous, and you can’t help the blush of pride that fills your veins as you raise a secret brow at her. 

“Right, you got nothing to worry about,” Namjoon squeezes your shoulder encouragingly, as if you’d get his double-meaning. 

“Thanks,” you reply, pushing your plate away and standing up, “I’m actually gonna go head to Vernon’s for a bit, though. He wants to double check his work before we email Victoria.” 

It’s a bald-faced lie, Namjoon sent the files to Victoria right before dinner, but he isn’t going to argue. 

“Okay,” Namjoon thanks Jungkook and Jisoo for the meal, stacking his plate atop yours, “I’ll walk out with you.” 

“It’s only been twenty minutes, though,” you see the slight panic in Jungkook’s gaze as he watches you quickly clean up for you and Namjoon. You can’t quite pin why he’s so concerned, after all he has been acting strange as of late. 

“Yeah, I’m full,” you reply curtly, licking your lips and avoiding his gaze. You already know what he wants to say, that he’s been in your apartment all day and all he’s seen you eat is stale chips and tea, “but we can do this again.” But hopefully not. 

“If you’re coming home late again,” it’s the first time Jisoo has spoken to you directly. You tilt your head to her slowly, watching the plastic smile carefully carved onto her expression. You see the contrived care and concern between her brows, “please try to be quieter next time, the last time you came home late you woke Jungkookie up.” 

Snapping your gaze to Jungkook you plaster on a thick smile, “Sorry Jungkook—” 

“What? No, it’s fine!” he furrows his brows in confusion, finally able to detect the strange tension between the two housemates, “I barely heard you—” 

“Maybe I’ll just stay the night at Vernon’s,” your eyes trail over to the pajama set you immediately switched into when you got home today, “wouldn’t want to disturb you two.” 

“Good,” Jisoo’s tone is saccharine and clipped as she tacks on a, “have fun.” 

It’s laudable, how much Jisoo wants to make a fool out of you but you won’t have it. You revel in the perplexed expression as Jungkook’s gaze darts back and forth between the two of you, wanting to butt in but unsure of how to approach it. Not giving him the time to, you bid the couple a goodnight and make a fast getaway. Heck, you don’t even take your work stuff with you. 

Once you’re out the door, Namjoon wordlessly gives you a hug. You sigh gratefully into his embrace. 

The next time Jungkook sees you, he reads the room before anything. You and Jisoo’s apartment is scarily empty, almost clinical. He’s tried texting you a few times after his failed-not-failed attempt at catching up at the mall and his awkward conversation concerning Namjoon, but you always reply back with vague replies and an unpromised promise of meeting up sometime soon. 

It dulls him to think that you’ve given up on him as a friend. But can you blame him? He needs to keep an appropriate distance for Jisoo, after all, she doesn’t like it when he gets too close to other women unless it’s strictly professional. Usually Jisoo’s jealousy inevitably works itself out and Jungkook doesn’t pose any problems because he has very few girl friends, but for some reason your friendship with him specifically gets Jisoo stiff in the face. Is it because you and Jisoo are so close? Possibly. 

But it doesn’t mean you can’t join the same Valorant server with him at 2AM and accidentally bomb each other, or argue over the magnum opus of each film company. Is that not enough? 

Jisoo’s working overtime, and Jungkook suggested last night that he move the boxes to the front of the door for easy pick-up when the moving truck arrives. Jisoo promises to buy Thai food in return, and with a kiss emoji she leaves him to audit fabric budgets. 

As he glides down to Jisoo’s room he notes that the pictures along the wall have disappeared, and there’s double the amount of boxes in the hallway. It seems that you’re moving out too. To where, he doesn’t know but he hopes it isn’t too far. 

He chides Jisoo remotely when he sees that her room is completely intact, and he makes moves to pack up her things. 

That’s when he finds his letter. Not a love letter to Jisoo, but a love letter to you. Deep in the recesses of Jisoo’s junk drawer, is a faded lavender envelope with a pressed cream colored baby’s breath taped up in plastic. The glue is yellow and old, clearly served its purpose due to the fact that the letter is already opened and the contents rumpled. 

Hey Pretty Girl–

He immediately stuffs the letter back in its holder, stricken at his messy handwriting from two years ago. It feels like he found a time capsule, another version of Jungkook confessing to you. He used to call you Pretty Girl, not enough for you to catch on to his feelings, but enough for you to understand that he did find you attractive. It was early on in your friendship. 

When you first asked him to be study partners for some silly class that had nothing to do with each other’s majors, he gaped like a guppy and pointed to himself. That day he went to class in last night’s clothes and a nest of fluffy strands. “Me?” he felt like absolute trash, and you were probably desperate due to the fact you two were the only seniors in this class, “but you’re a pretty girl… and I’m pretty dumb when it comes to this subject.” 

But instead you scoffed and pulled him from his slumped figure, dragging him to the library, with a wink and a “you’re pretty, too.” Those words have burned in his brain since then, as he wasn’t used to getting such off-handed compliments, especially from intelligent girls that wanted more than one night. 

For whatever reason you continued seeing his dumb self, even after the semester ended and together registered for one more class for spring. 

Whenever you’d go out for ice cream you wouldn’t hesitate to stuff your face and add for extra Oreos and fries, you’d assure Jungkook you’re not normally this much of a slob. 

Jungkook would just smile and offer you a napkin and say, “You’re still a pretty girl.” 

He fell for you gracefully. There was no regret, no walk of shame, no cliché late night party where you or him could’ve instigated it into the physical. It was all by feel. 

However the two of you took your time with your relationship, languidly enjoying the hushed conversations in the library at 2AM, the late night McFlurry runs, the integration of each other’s friends like it was natural. Ergo the lavender love letter. It was a gentle declaration, one he felt pretty confident in. 

So color him stupid when you passed him in class with a happy wave, Jungkook dumbfounded at how well you handled his confession. You weren’t oblivious, you just never read it. 

But now he knows the declaration was for whatever reason, lost in transit. “I should’ve known,” he whispers in the air, the letter crumpling in his grip. Composing himself, he pinches his brows.  

There’s an electronic buzz and a sharp slam of the front door. Judging by the time, you’re home. 

You flop onto your mattress, folding an arm over your head to stop the sun from seeping to your eyes. Vernon’s exhausted you, and you barely got away before he could have any say in it. You need a little space, and some time to think. 

Just as you close the door to your bedroom, it swings open. 

You gape as Jungkook thrusts himself into your bedroom like a deer with horns, looking pale. You follow his gaze, darkened eyes that linger a little too long on your neck again, and you narrow your eyes at him to avert. He looks a little red in the cheeks despite his pallidness, looking like he just got out of bed with messy wavy locks and his signature sweats. Is Jungkook packing for Jisoo again? 

Acutely aware that you smell like sweat and sex, you clutch the blankets closer to your body. “Uh, rude.” 

He looks uncharastically frantic, waving a letter in his hand, “Did you ever read this?” 

“Read what?” you ask, hands reaching out for the envelope. 

“My confession letter,” he blurts, having no shame now that all the gears are running through his head. “I wrote you a letter asking you out, because you said you wanted to collect notes like in Letters to Juliet. But I just found it in Jisoo’s drawer, why would it be there?” 

And all the pent up frustration that never seemed to escape under Vernon’s sheets, the feelings that never seem to subside, all bubble back to the surface. Now that Jungkook knows, there’s no hiding. 

You’re in shock, hands reaching for the letter despite the burn that seeps through your fingertips. Jungkook’s shoulders slump when you do indeed look like it’s your first time seeing this, as if a missing puzzle piece in your timeline has finally been revealed.

“I, I didn’t think you’d write me a letter,” you take the lavender envelope, clutching the letter by your chest like it’s something precious, “that’s so sweet,” you say to yourself.  

It dawns on him, “Wait, you knew about this? I knew something weird was going on.” 

“Only recently,” you frown. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” he nearly shouts, causing you to flinch, “no wonder why you were being so weird all this time. How could you let me live the rest of my life knowing this? That my relationship is built on a lie? ” 

“I don’t know,” you suddenly feel very small in your mattress as Jungkook rounds up on you, pulling your desk chair closer to your bed, “because you love Jisoo, of course.” 

“Well obviously that’s not possible,” and while yes a two-year realtionship ending like this is going to hit him hard tonight, he’s focused on you and the fact that you failed to tell him, “somehow I’d find out. Why wait for me to find out on my own?” 

“Because I wanted to protect you!” 

“Protect me,” he scoffs, crossing his arms and sneering at you. It causes you to tense up, feeling the telltale signs of tears bubbling to the surface, “you don’t even want to be friends anymore, y/n. I’ve tried to catch up to you so many times, but you keep leaving me hanging. I know I’ve been a pretty bad friend and I get it if you just feel awkward that I liked you, then that’s a shitty reason.” 

“Have you ever considered that it’s too late to tell you?” you shoot back, sitting up straight, “yes, I admit I should’ve told you earlier and I’m sorry, but it was a lot for me to process to y’know? Jisoo and I haven’t talked properly in weeks!” 

“Oh, so you’ve stopped trying to be friends with Jisoo too, huh? Just like you’re trying to stop being friends with me.” 

“No,” you pinch your brows, “she stopped being friends with me! She doesn’t care about me because she has you,” conflict burns in Jungkook’s gaze, and you only serve to fuel the fire, “she’s tried so hard to not involve me in your relationship.” 

“Just tell me why you’ve really kept this secret instead of saying you want to protect me like a baby—” 

“It’s because I’m in love with you, idiot!” 

You blink and back up against the wall of your bedroom, as if you can’t believe that the words came out of your mouth. 

It’s quiet again. The sour look evaporates from Jungkook’s face as he watches you suppress your sobs on your mattress. The room seems devoid, sucked out of its color as you’ve cleaned up most of your things, the only thing left being some plain grey sheets and a pillow. 

Jungkook’s mind is absolutely reeling, playing back memories from a different point of view. 

“When Jisoo told me she sabotaged our relationship so she could date you, I was so upset and didn’t know what to think,” you manage to place the lavender note on your wooden desk, making sure no tears could mar it. “And I thought I could move on and eventually stay friends with the both of you, but the next day Jisoo put all her attention on you and completely ignored me or any attempt to salvage our friendship. She only told me to forgive herself,” you’re hugging yourself, wrapping the blankets around you like a weak embrace, “so I thought if I cut myself out of the picture and forced myself to move on like I should’ve, everything would’ve been okay.” 

“So, you would’ve rather kept all this pain to yourself?” 

“Yeah,” you give him a teary smile, “because I wanted you to be happy.” 

And with an equally sad smile he murmurs, “But I’m not happy.” 

 Your face falls, and you really look at Jungkook. He’s exhausted as well, slumped in his chair. Has he been trying to grapple along the threads of his relationships, while you’ve been trying to loosen them? 

“What a waste of two years,” he slumps in your chair, letting the pieces click into place, “a relationship built on fake love. I was really trying, y’know. I thought I was going crazy.” 

The three of you have unknowingly been playing a futile game of Cat’s Cradle, a game that no one wins. 

Jungkook looks wistfully out the window, noting the pleasant day that fails to present itself in your tiny room. It feels simultaneously satisfying and bitter when it falls into place, your thoughts finally fitting together for the first time in months. “We could’ve loved each other. For real,” he says, and you silently agree. 

You’re still crying, shaking like a leaf in autumn. Jungkook’s arms hover awkwardly over yours, his warmth palpable despite the fact that he hasn’t touched you yet. With a timid smile you allow consent, and you melt like putty in his arms. 

“Kookie, ‘m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you murmur into his shoulder, not caring if it hurts when you press your chin into his skin. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” 

It’s been so long to have him close like this, the friend you’ve always wanted but never needed. Since college you’ve always imagined a life without him doing just fine, but that doesn’t mean you want to live without him, roommate’s boyfriend or not. 

“I’m sorry too,” he sighs back, “this sucks right now, but we’ll be alright.” 

The two of you sit in your room until it turns dark and the sky muddles into shades of twilight and egg yolk orange. There’s lulls in the conversation, the two of you filling in the gaps and making sense of the mumbo-jumbo that’s been going on in your consciousness up until this point. Your insantities turn sane, and by the time Jisoo’s making her way back inside with the smell of pad thai, Jungkook is ready. With a squeeze to each other and a press of your lips because you don’t know what to say, you tuck yourself in and pretend to fall asleep. 

“Messy, messy, messy,” Vernon sing-songs, knocking his heels against the wall. 

The both of you are sitting upside-down, butts attached to the wall connecting to his mattress and your feet hanging in the air. Your mint floral organza socks pad against his Pink Floyd poster, while his yellow tube socks are heeling against some old Polaroids from college. There’s no prospect of sex today, not when shit just hit the fan. 

Today you and Vernon are just two old friends and very close co-workers. 

“Tell me about it,” you bemoan, frowning at the beige wall, “this whole week’s just been a whole mess. It’s like, warm tuna salad.”

“Gross,” Vernon grimaces at the apt comparison, “so what happens now?” 

You sit up on your elbows, looking down at Vernon’s peaceful expression, “What do you mean?” 

“Like, are you gonna get together with him?”

You snort, flopping back down on his bed. The blankets fluff around you and you inhale the pine scented sheets. “After all that? No.” 

“But you still love him?” 

It must sound dumb to still love him after all this time. You wouldn’t be surprised if Vernon thought you’re silly to still hold a place in your heart for someone who has fifteen million things on their plate now. After all the physicality and the space Vernon gave you in his home, your feelings haven’t wavered. 

Your companion doesn’t bother waiting for your answer, hearing your answer somewhere in the air as he gets up and throws on his denim jacket. Rolling over your stomach you ask, “Where are you going?” 

“Some friends down in printing want to meet up for drinks,” Vernon messes up his hair, making the waves part in that little coiff that makes his jawline look sharp. “I heard Yerin really wanted me to come, so.” 

You can’t help the little middle school coo that comes from your lips, causing Vernon to giggle and throw a pillow at you. “Yerin’s cute!” you declare, remembering the petite girl in overalls who’s all about pops of yellow and violet, “you're into her?” 

“Nah,” Vernon holds up two hats in his hands, gesturing for you to pick one. “Just figured it was a push in the right direction.” 

Crawling out of his bed you stumble in your oversized t-shirt, tucking a finger under your chin as you decide between the emerald bucket hat and the red Ralph Lauren baseball cap. You pull out both hats from his hands and set it down on his vanity, opting to smooth out the flyaways and ringing your fingers through his soft curls. “And what direction would my free-flowing friend be going today?” you ask aloud, “you look better with your hair out,” you declare firmly, “makes you look like a fluffy CEO.” 

He laughs at your silly comparison, and he gently moves your hand away from his hair when you linger a little too close to him. His gaze is solemn as he regards you with a gentle smile, “Keep your distance, I’m tryna get over someone,” he says simply, and your arm falls limp at your sides. 

Your heart thuds in a different direction, your mouth parting but no words coming to the surface. When was the last time you asked about Vernon’s needs, wondered if he was doing alright, making sure you two were on the same page—

“You’re spiraling,” he reads you like a playbook, smoothing down your hair to press a kiss to the crown. Suddenly you feel guilty for not having sparks in your belly, shaming your conscience for not even considering his sacrifices in your self-absorption these past few weeks. “Like I said, I wanted to help you. Stop looking like a kicked puppy, it’s okay to be selfish.” 

With transparent tears the two of you pack up and head to your next destination. Hands ghosting between each other you make your way to the exit of Vernon’s apartment, him to meet up with his friends while you have to unpack your new apartment. With a hug you tell each other you’ll see them on Monday, and as easy as that you go your separate ways.

Hey Pretty Girl—

I kinda wanted to tell you this in person but I know how much you liked Mamma Mia and all those other movies that have grand gestures in writing so I thought hey, might as well shoot my shot on paper. 

Not gonna tell you all the details, because you deserve to hear it in-person. But mayhaps this letter has something to do with how much I like studying with you, watching movies with you, doing absolutely nothing with you and all of that in-between. 

There’s a gift card to our spot attached. Meet me at McDonalds @12 tonight, so I know it’s real 😎

Hopefully yours, Jungkook

P.S. if you haven’t noticed already, I sprayed a little cologne and stole Taehyung’s fancy paper from Muji. That’s how serious I am about you. 

“Joon, we live in a bonsai garden. We’re like giants in a forest.” 

“Can you—can you stop spitting at them? Let them breathe, dammit.” 

“Not my fault they’re so tiny! I literally have to zoom 200% just to get a good look at ‘em.” 

The two of you are huddled in what used to be Namjoon’s balcony, now a sunroom for his succulents and bonsais. Your heart feels pink and swollen with affection as you regard Namjoon with interest, absorbing every bit of information you can as he teaches you how to care for his plants. After all, you’re co-parenting now. 

Having your Wusband co-sign as your roommate for the next year is probably the best decision you have made this year. Everyday is like a breath of fresh air. With Seokjin gone for the year to tour his restaurant franchises, his room is yours for the taking. The two of you are easy going roommates, filling the apartment with color and vigour whether it be in the form of baking sweets or watching Netflix documentaries. 

The only drama you ever have is when you two are having a meltdown over the same work-related issue, as if you two somehow share the same brain cell. It’s significantly less stressful, no need for unnecessary anger when  you have someone as mediating as Namjoon.

After today’s plant lesson, you two go back to the living room to finish up your work for the evening. Another perk of living together is that you can go home at normal work times and continue where you left off with the comfort of your couch and eating a whole pizza pie with no shame. 

Namjoon’s phone pings with a new email from corporate. “We got the new concept for next month’s spread,” he gestures to you with a grandiose wave of his arm, “drumroll please.” 

He pulls up the newsletter from corporate with a flick of his thumb. Your company put out every month’s concept out in an Evite, like every month was a themed party. A stressful, month long work party. In seconds, the page loaded and you’re met with next month’s title bathed in electronic glitter. 

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth

The two of you say silent, absorbing the concept like a cookie to milk. It’s a personal spread this month, a real treat for the team to show off their normal non-professional life. A spread that reveals the masters behind the ink and text. Last year’s personal spread was about the staff’s vacation destinations, but this year’s is much more intimate. You can imagine all the ideas that will be thrown around on Monday’s meeting: pinning down shared ideas like Throwback Thursdays, late night munchie runs, drunk stories, and all the crazy college nostalgia that you’ve been trying to avoid as of late. 

But now it’s presented to you in a gold chalice, and while you’re sick of the past you think it’s about time to face it. You’re excited to tackle the dark monster you’ve suppressed since Jungkook and Jisoo’s breakup. 

“Did I ever tell you I was president of my university’s Mock Trial?” 

“No, I always thought you’d be president of the Comparative Literature Club or whatever. But Mock Trial is equally as nerdy.” 

“I’ll have you know Mock Trial got me tons of action,” he winked, “made me very convincing.” 

“Gross,” you sneer, “so that’s what your spread will be about? How the co-editor of the Arts & Entertainment section managed to bag with his skills from Mock Trial?” 

“Nah, I went on a penniless journey with Jin during spring break. Six days around Malta.” 

“That does sound so you,” you sigh, fingers slipping between the cracked screen as you mull over the overly happy Evite, “sounds like a cool story.” 

“I know that look,” Namjoon quips, snatching his phone under his nose, “don’t overthink your spread just yet, it’s still the weekend. Now to more important things, what do you want from Taco Bell?”

And because you can’t refuse the combined efforts of nachos and Namjoon’s dimples, you relent for the night and tack the unmade idea to the next workday. 

Unfortunately the next workday is just as disheartening. Today’s work meeting is the antithesis of icing on the cake. While your college life isn’t anything remarkable, you didn’t think it was a painfully dull time. With every passing moment and every excited co-worker throwing memories back and forth like ping pong balls, the more you felt inferior by competing with their amazing memories. 

“Who can even afford Aruba at twenty-one,” you mutter under your breath, stalking back to your cubicle. 

Filling up a whole spread is daunting to you, the thought of Victoria popping her head in your cubicle to ask what you’ve got for the day is practically eating you from the inside out. Maybe your college life was in actuality, super boring? You have no crazy drug trips to tell, any vacations that gave you a life-changing perspective, or an epic love story. 

“What’cha got there, partner?” 

The third musketeer of your editing team’s caramel eyes peer into your cubicle, causing you to jump in your chair. Vernon wheels around, chair and all to push you into your already cramped space. His gold button up gleams in the sunlight, effectively blinding you. 

“If by something you mean nothing, then yeah I got nothing,” you frown, spinning around your chair. “What are you writing about?” 

A fond smile melts onto your friend’s face, and you can’t help returning a smile that mirrors his own. You two have fallen back into a good place, as far as you know. He’s still easy, simple, sweet Vernon. When you dropped some boxes off in coloring, you heard that Vernon and Yerin have recently started seeing each other. 

“Thought of the idea as soon as the Evite came out. It’s more of a photo spread, but I’m gonna write about my study abroad in NYU,” Vernon ticks a pencil on his forehead, “a self-identity piece talking about how I felt like, not-white around my family n’stuff. And then felt not-Asian at the same time, s’complicated but I think I can make it work.” 

“Deep,” you pat his shoulder caringly, knowing that Big Hit is a good outlet for these kinds of subjects, “alright City Slicker, since you’re so full of ideas then tell me what to write about.” 

Vernon sits up straight, regarding you with narrowed eyes, “Aren’t you gonna write about your little love triangle with Jisoo and Jungkook?” and it seems like he’s already storyboarded the idea in his head, gesturing to the air as if he’s writing down a timeline, “I can see the headline now: How to Steal a Heart,” he’s grinning, nodding fervently as you cross your arms in distaste. 

“Vern, are you suggesting that I exploit Jisoo and Jungkook’s personal lives?” while the journalism business didn’t pride itself on sincerity, it did feel wrong to drag in your personal life to that extent. 

“Babe, you don’t understand. You have the perfect slice of life story. Everyone’s writing about expensive vacations and that one time they got cross-faded and ended up in Busan,” he squeezes your hand, “but your story, it’s relatable. It’s romantic. It’s angsty. It has closure. No one’s gonna be able to relate to an impulse spending on daddy’s money to Aruba. But first loves? Unrequited romance and all that ish? Everyone can speak to that. And you’re a beautiful writer, they’ll eat up that story like honey.” 

“I don’t know, it still doesn’t feel right.” 

“Change up the names, twist the story,” he offers easily, knowing you’d put up a fight, “besides, it’s not like you’re planning on talking to Jisoo or Jungkook ever again,” you open your mouth to retort, but Vernon’s phone beeps to the Star Wars theme song and he’s flying out of his chair. “Shoot, gotta go help Joon upstairs. Just think about it, okay? Good luck!” and he’s kicking his chair out with a brown loafer, leaving you with breathing room in your cubicle. 

Five seconds later Vernon is jogging back, pointing a finger at you, “And if you do choose to write it, you have to add that Jisoo copped your McDonalds gift card. Like, who does that shit? Couldn’t she have just given it to you and say it was from her and not Jungkook? Seriously fucked up.” 

For the next ten or so minutes you mull. Out of all the memorable college events you’ve participated in, the largest one by far is your (now defunct and debatable) friendship with Jisoo, and your (un)requited love for Jungkook. Reluctantly, you must admit Vernon has a sharp idea, busting in like a hero and offering you the most writable piece on a silver platter. 

It doesn’t feel morally right just to start writing, because ultimately you can’t feel comfortable until you get the consent of Jungkook. While you don’t want to touch Jisoo with a ten-meter pole, you do want to start talking to Jungkook again now that the waters have calmed.

Your life has moved gracefully up until this point, and you’d like to start being friends with him again. Decision made, you pull out your phone and make an important call.

“Hey Yoongi,” you say nervously. Min Yoongi is Kim Namjoon’s equivalent, Jungkook’s Wusband and former upperclassmen in college. 

Said man hums noncommittally on the other line, “Whaddya want, it’s been awhile.” 

You stifle a giggle at his apathetic attitude, knowing he’s someone who wastes no time in getting straight to the point. “I just wanna make sure Jungkook’s address is still the same? I know it’s been a couple months, but I need to send him something and I wanna make sure it gets to him ASAP because—”

“Because last time something was sent, your crazy roommate intervened and Jungkook ended up in a two-year half-toxic relationship? Yeah, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Yoongi,” you say slowly, “where are you?” 

“Working in the studio,” he tuts, “Jungkook says hi, by the way.” 

Typical, cat’s out of the bag. With a roll of our eyes you reply, “Thanks for outing me, Yoongi. Talk to you later.” 

“And y/n? Jungkook says he’s waiting.” 

With a stupid smile slapped onto your face, you hang up the phone and pull out your stationary kit from under your desk. You pluck out a vermillion red envelope, a color so bold and begging to be seen, you know it can’t possibly get lost in transit. Feeling a little bit like a high schooler as you pull out a glitter jelly pen, you get to writing. 

Hey Pretty Boy...

Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently. 

Their social media runs in different directions, with Jisoo sporting absolute elegance in her work at her family-owned boutique. Her posts are full of shiny outfits and soulless gazes, betraying any pinch of emotion she may have felt over these past few months. Her profile is wiped of any personal posts, all traces of you and Jungkook evaporated from her page. You must admit that she looks good, like a real fashion mogul, but only at the surface level. 

Conversely, Jungkook is thriving. It’s evident. Normally he isn’t the type of guy to post so frequently, his habits being often sporadic and limited to sweaty gym stories. But whenever you scroll, it’s pictures of him smiling. Big bunny teeth broken into a genuine, full-bellied laugh. Cute selfies of him and his co-workers. You notice two familiar co-workers in those posts, Irene and Seulgi, two beautiful women Jisoo always felt intimidated by whenever she ranted to you. You conclude positively that Jungkook doesn’t feel tethered and can hang out with all the friends he wants, female and male alike. Jungkook looks free, and you’re happy for him. 

It’s another Instagram-worthy moment tonight at McDonalds, where you and Jungkook proposed to meet each other at 12AM. 

This time, the letter makes it to its desired destination. You make sure of that because this time you hand-deliver it, slipping under his apartment door knowing he lives alone and no one would be able to access it except him. 

You’re parked in an obscure corner, but you can see that Jungkook is currently having a great time with his co-workers for an after work meal. Yoongi is unbothered on his phone, while Jimin and Seulgi are taking turns throwing fries into each other’s mouth. Jungkook is squished between them, scrunching his nose cutely as he tries not to get in the fray of their fry-war. 

Your phone pings, and you laugh at what pops up on the screen.

Yoongi: come inside, u loser. 

You: can’t ur friend group makes me nervous stop being so dang cute

You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50

Instead of replying, Yoongi puts his phone down and resumes eating. In turn you pick a playlist, deciding that “summer time high mix✨✨✨” is a theme you need to subscribe to for the rest of the weekend. 

Busying yourself by sending some texts to Namjoon and checking some emails, you relax in your seat as you let your brain turn to sludge for the weekend. You’re tired, eyes glazing over as you watch Yoongi elbow Jungkook harshly, forcing him to look out the foggy window. 

Jungkook’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas Eve, but instead of Christmas lights it's your car’s lowlights. The graphic designer  pays no mind to his friends as they wish him goodbye and goodluck, throwing on his jacket with a wave. 

The night air whizzes by, Jungkook’s floppy black strands bouncing with each step as he bounds to your car. He throws your door open, bringing in the cold air as he regards you as easily as an old friend would. 

“Hi,” he chirps, placing his tattooed palms by the air vent, “c’mon, let’s order.” 

“You know, you could’ve ordered inside and brought it in here.” 

“Yeah but then it would take longer to get to you,” the cheeky grin that Jungkook throws at you is unmistakable, “c’mon, get out the car and let’s switch.” 

“Huh?” 

“You look tired, you didn’t come back from the office again, did you?” 

“I did tonight,” you say, “I just really wanted to get the soft copy of the article done and—” 

“Out, out!” Jungkook clicks your seatbelt off and he’s coming out of the passenger side, opening your car and pulling you out by the hand, “c’mon, I’ll drive.” 

You shake your head, hiding your smile in your hand as you let Jungkook do what he wants. Normally you’d be insulted that anyone suggests they should drive your car but Jungkook would always drive you around, saying he loved long rides. Above all, if you could trust anyone to drive your car, Jungkook is at the top of the list. 

Buckling in, you bite the inside of your cheek as Jungkook easily pulls out of the parking spot one-handed. His jacket is pulled up to his elbows, exposing his veins as he expertly whirls the wheel in the direction of the drive-thru. Since college he’s always looked very attractive driving.  

Doesn’t mean you have to act like you’re still in college. You tamp those feelings down, knowing that your article probably has you feeling stuck in time. 

“—coming along?” 

“Wha?” 

“I said, how’s the spread coming along?” 

“It’s pretty much done, I think. I’ll send you the hard copy when it’s ready,” you tap your fingers against the dashboard, “but are you sure you’re okay with me writing it? I know I’m using a pseudonym and everything for you two but I still feel weird—” 

“It’s fine, I think it’s a good thing,” and you still squirm in your seat when he flashes you a genuine smile, “I mean, it kinda is a funny story and I think it’s good for both of us. Like closure, y’know? Moving on and—hi, can I get two Oreo McFlurrys and a large fry? Thanks!” he pulls out his wallet to scan the total on the e-reader.  “I mean, didn’t it feel good writing it?”

“Yeah,” you replied honestly, relaxing in your seat, “like, college was fun and all, but when Jisoo kinda ruined all that… after awhile I didn’t think it was ruined after all, y’know? I still made amazing friends and ended up where I wanted to be. I want to show the readers that shit happens, and that’s okay. And if things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

The summer playlist hums in the background as Jungkook pulls up to the pick-up window. He thanks the worker and hands you the tray, and you make quick work to put the fries in the first cup holder for optimal sharing. He doesn’t park at McDonalds, but instead smoothly pulls out of the restaurant into the direction of his apartment. It isn’t a particularly long drive, but you figure it would be easier for Jungkook to go home first if you’re already parked at his complex. 

“What do you mean by that?” Jungkook parks in the driveway of his apartment, taking his McFlurry from your hands. 

“Mean by what?” 

“If things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

“Well, we’re here now, right?” 

Jungkook pops his spoon in, swallowing vanilla and a silly smile through his coral pink lips, “We’re here now,” he repeats. 

The night air is cool and your conversation is warm. You promise Jungkook that you’ll send him the final copy of your spread as soon as it’s done, and you two eagerly deviate away from the past and focus on the present. 

You can’t help the eagerness that flows between you, as if you’ve never spent time apart like this and it’s only now that you’re reuniting. It must be absence that makes the heart grow fonder, because you swell with affection and you find Jungkook’s presence sweeter than any kind of ice cream. 

Are you dating now? Maybe. You and Jungkook are going on dates, everything without the title. McFlurry runs, marathons of HGTV’s Design on a Dime, having lunch at each other’s respective buildings with the Wusbands. Whether these dates are exclusive or not is unknown, but you figure the question will present yourself one way or another. 

You’re in a good place right now, potential relationship or not. After all, your priorities are simultaneously positive and in order: family, work, friends, and any potential romantic trysts are at the very bottom. You could kiss the cover of this month’s issue (and trust, you have kissed your own copy multiple times) if it is not for the fact that this specific issue is for Jungkook. 

So, romantic trysts and friends have a tendency to flip-flop on your priority list, but only because it’s Jungkook. 

Unsurprisingly, there’s no guilt knowing that you’re dating your former best friend's ex-boyfriend. 

After a much deserved early work day, Namjoon and the crew arrange a hearty happy-hour filled with good food and enough relaxation to last the weekend. With your combined successes, your team felt like they made the best issue yet. At the heart of it, The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth became a reckoning of each other’s young life. Despite the love and the growth that occurred from your college years up until this point, you’re glad to close that chapter and move forward. 

You did not tell Jungkook when the issue would come out, so you think it’ll be a fun surprise for him when he sees it magically show up at his apartment. Bending down you move to slip the issue under his door, one hand pushing it under while one hand braces against the frame to steady your balance. 

Just as the shiny cover glides under the door it swings open, and you fall flat on Jungkook’s feet. 

Being the little shit he is, he simply giggles at the blunder, looking at you with excited eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he says. 

“Creepy as hell, Jeon,” you mutter under your breath, brushing the dirt off your aqua pencil skirt. Looking at him from your spot on the floor and his large height, you grimace. “You look like a middle-aged serial killer looking outside your peephole.” 

“Now, we know that’s not true.” he finally offers his hand, easily pulling you up to your feet. You follow him into his kitchen, where he’s cutting up fresh fruit. He throws your issue on the counter, gentle enough so it doesn’t slide off the granite. He gestures to himself with both hands, “me, a dashingly handsome late twenty-something in Nike sweats who can bench-press two of you? Totally not a middle-aged serial killer.” 

“It’s in the eyes,” you chastise, “you look crazy.” 

“Maybe I’m just crazy excited to see you,” he says with a cheeky grin. 

You try your best not to choke on your spit at the cheeseball comment, throwing a blackberry in your mouth. Savoring the burst of tart flavor that fills your mouth, you wait for Jungkook to plate the fruit before meeting him on the couch. He’s holding a prettily arranged plate of berries, bananas, and mango with a huge dollop of whipped cream in the middle. In his other hand is Big Hit’s magazine. 

Throwing your blazer on the couch’s arm you don’t hesitate to cuddle up next to him, eagerly waiting for him to read your spread. 

The cover gazes back at the two of you like a reflection. The entirety of the staff is posed on the cover, made to look like a class photo. Some of you are holding balloons in your respective school colors, many of you grouping up with whoever happened to go to college together. You and Vernon are wearing matching university sweaters with silly grins on your faces. In the middle of the issue is the editor-in-chief, Victoria Song holding a placard that reads: Class of Youth. 

Jungkook spares you a glance from the corner of his eye, your head naturally tucked into his shoulder. With an exaggerated sigh, he fiddles through the glossy pages, “Hmm, which one should I read first?” 

“Of course you’ll read mine first,” you pout. 

“Ah, Namjoon’s looks really fun. Or Vernon’s? New York looks pretty cool,” he flips to a random page, “wait, Yerin’s spread is a Korean cookbook! I definitely want to make some tuna rice...”  

“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.” 

“I don’t know,” he taps his finger on his lip, “I mean, I pretty much know your spread because I’m already in it. It would be kind of redundant to read it.” 

“Kook, you’re being mean,” you glower, rubbing your cheek against his soft sweater. He’s just so damn comfy. 

“I’m kidding,” he tugs at your cheek, “where’s the table of contents, first page?”

“I’m on page eighty-three.” 

You speed up the process like an impatient child, leaning over to brush the pages to the desired spread. You even dog-earred it, a habit that drives Jungkook crazy as he immediately fiddles to iron out the crease. 

“Are you gonna read it to me too, mom?” he teases. 

“Okay fine! I’ll be quiet, but don’t take too long.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Eyes fluttering, you let Jungkook take his time to absorb your piece. A roommate by any other (rude) name: the lost letter. A cheesy, gimmicky title that Victoria insisted upon that you had no choice but relent to. The rest of the spread thankfully has a very authentic edge to it, your story laced with photos of you and Jungkook, your internship with Vernon, and most importantly, a scan of the lavender letter that got left in the past. 

Jungkook’s not silent through his read-through, either. He laughs at all the right parts, fueling your ego as his smile grows at your favorite lines. While he doesn’t directly engage in conversation, his positive energy is enough for you to make you feel like you’ve done your job right. It’s one thing to write about unknown celebrities and unnamed artists, but for people like Jungkook, the validation is personal. 

“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook says when he’s read it thrice through, running his thumb over a picture of you. “Really organic. Really, real.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he chuckles, having run out of adverbs. “It’s funny, too. I liked your little internal monologue. I wish I knew how you felt back then.” 

“I wish you did, too.” 

You’re quietly munching on a strawberry, looking over a polaroid Jungkook took. It was  sometime in the beginning of senior year, where you’ve fallen asleep on his mattress, drool drying on your mouth. Normally you’d be opposed to having such unflattering, grainy pictures amongst your writing, but it encapsulates the youth you’ve tried so hard to chase away. 

“How do you feel?” Jungkook says, switching out the magazine for the plate of fruit, placing it on his side. 

“Feel great, actually,” you muse, smiling to yourself. By no means are you a hero writing some grand gesture in an entertainment magazine, but you feel like you’ve saved yourself. You’ve savored your youth in four thousand words, cutting out the poison and keeping the moment as sweet as it can be. 

“I’m proud of you,” he reaches to ruffle your hair, and you don’t even get mad when it tousles out of your pinned style. 

Reveling in the attention, you simply close your eyes and feed yourself a handful of blueberries. 

“Love that I make money, but I definitely miss college from time to time,” Jungkook stretches, jostling you out of your comfortable position. “Like I remember Taehyung and I would take turns bringing backpacks to the dining hall so we could stuff fruit in it for later.”

“Yeah, but as much as I loved college I wouldn’t go back,” you nod to yourself, “I’m happy where I am now.” 

“What about when we stayed up for midnight breakfast? The dining hall was filled to the brim with food. Remember when I tried to eat a whole stack of pancakes?” 

“Jungkook…” 

“Or when our classes got cancelled and we went to Lotte World? You ate way too much funnel cake and I had to carry you to the car!” 

“Jungkook—” 

“And that one time we snuck out to the music hall’s rooftop?” words gush out of Jungkook’s mouth like a waterfall, unable to relent, “that’s when I realized I liked you. I liked you so much, I tried to tell you that night but choked—”

“Jungkook!” and he immediately zips up, frowning. You straighten up, on your knees as you reach over to run your hands through his onyx tresses, moving the styled strands to the back of his pierced ears, “Jungkook,” you repeat softly, “I’ve heard all these stories, I was there for most of them. As much as I love the past… can we talk about something else?” you give him a small, tentative smile to show him you’re not mad, but a little uncomfortable at his reminiscing. 

He leans into your touch, pressing your palm against the soft swell of his warm cheek. “Okay,” he agrees, resting one hand on your thigh. 

You’re roped in his gaze, and you have to force yourself to breathe when Jungkook moves closer to you. He hooks a leg behind his back, and another across his lap. A cool breeze kisses your inner thighs when your skirt exposes your cotton underwear. You should be embarrassed but instead you’re fixated, unable to understand what he’s trying to accomplish. 

“Then I’m gonna talk about the future,” Jungkook traps you between the couch, his thumb running hot circles to where your skirt has hiked up. It exposes a slip of the thigh that Jungkook has seen a million times. He’s seen you walking around your apartment in a large shirt, ridden up to your boyshorts. It’s different now, you feel exposed and tingly, thrumming with excitement. “I like you, obviously anticipated news and old news. I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to go on dates with you, re-watch Avatar, grumble when I force you to come to the gym with me,” he bumps noses with you when you scrunch yours, “I wanna be with you. Heck, I’ve even cleared space in my spare room so you’d have closet space for all your fancy designer suits if you ever need it.”

“You cleared space?” you manage to choke out. Visions of a shared apartment roll through your brain. Cooking meals together, having two toothbrushes side by side, and waking up to his face. 

“Of course I did. Do you know how financially attractive you are?” he says lightheartedly, “you’re a sexy working woman and it’s crazy to imagine you’d want to settle for me and my little apartment. But I have to try now because if I don’t, it’ll be too late.” 

“That’s not true,” you retort, “you’re not someone I’d settle for. I want you, and no one else.” 

He chuckles, running a thumb over your cheek. “Then what are we waiting for? Your key’s hiding under the mat.” 

“Jungkook…” on the tip of your tongue lays the words you’re going too fast but it doesn’t make its way to the air. 

“But do you really think it’s too fast?” he reads your face clearly, “these feelings never went anywhere. They were locked away, sure. And I loved her,” he can’t even say the name, not when you’re warm and flush against him, “but I loved our friendship more.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you breathe, letting the cogs in your brain roll until sparks develop. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he concedes, “I just wanted to let you know. Could’ve done the letter thing all over again and let the past repeat itself. I know Namjoon wouldn’t hide a love letter for two years, but if I left another damn letter he’d definitely make a copy and tease me about it.” 

You snort, pressing your forehead to his. You’re practically buried in the couch now, tingly and vibrating with happiness. “And I’m not going to leave you hanging. I do want to say something,” and he looks at you expectantly, licking the leftover berry juice on his lips, nearly making you miss your train of thought, “I like you too,” you say, the other L-word is also applicable, but you feel like that phrase is reserved for another time, “I want to show you off on work vacations, bring you along as my date and show them you’re my muse,” you confess, “I wanna play video games with you ‘till 2AM, and eat ice cream in the comfort of our apartment instead of our cars because we’re too stubborn to admit we don’t wanna go home without each other.” 

Jungkook absolutely preens at the affection, sending you a heart melting smile that has your stomach doing backflips.

“Jungkook, I want to fall in love with you again.” 

Your squeal of surprise is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips, tasting of mangoes and berries as strong hands cup your backside, easily lifting you onto his lap. You plop under his strong thighs, feeling them flex against yours. The both of you are pouring in this kiss, raining with promises and hopes for a future with each other. His taste is concentrated, and you can feel the devotion practically injected in his embrace. 

When he pulls away his lips are cherry-red and shiny, looking up at you through clear coffee eyes. “This isn’t a dream, right?” he looks at you up and down, unable to decipher fact from fiction, “because I distinctly remember two wet dreams that involve you looking like this.” 

Looking down, you heat at the disarray you’re in. Hair wild and parted in different wavelengths, tired of the day’s efforts. Your slightly sheer dress-shirt is rumpled, the lace collar opened with two popped buttons revealing your cleavage, and your skirt is stretched so tight that it’s ruched all the way up your thighs. Sprawled across Jungkook’s lap, you’re dangerously close to something long and hard. 

Emboldened, you clutch at Jungkook’s collar, pulling him closer. 

“Show me what happens in your dream,” you whisper into his ear, barely brushing your clothed core against his crotch, “maybe we can make it come true tonight.” 

You can’t see his face, but you feel something dark and sensual overtake him. The grip on your ass tightens, a delicious pain that has you pressing your breasts against him and nipping on his ear, your tongue darting sensually through the cold silver hoops that dart through his skin. 

Within seconds, he rips you away from his neck and demands, “Open.” 

Dazed, you barely get a centimeter of your mouth open when Jungkook presses something cold and sugary against your lips. Whipped cream. You manage to take a small bite of the tart strawberry that he holds by the viridian stem, rolling the flavor between your mouth as Jungkook paints the leftover whipped cream over your lips. Once he’s satisfied he then creates a white trail that leads to your cleavage. 

Better than any dream, his eyes drink you in like the last glass of water in a desert. Your lips are swollen and parted like a baby kitten, covered in the creamy confection. “So pretty,” he exhales, his hot tongue licking from your cleavage to your lips, swallowing the flavor of you and strawberry juice, “such a pretty girl you are, and all mine.” 

“Yours,” you submit easily, rolling your hips against his. 

At that moment you think you’re meant to fall in love this way. You can’t imagine the shy, fumbly Jungkook and your equally confused self waltzing around a relationship when you barely had your lives together. The two of you still had growing to do. The wait is certainly worth it, because as you feel his arms tighten around you, you’re sure this love will stay strong.

It’s difficult for you to find a rhythm at first, what with Jungkook’s strength and need to be satiated, both of you are sloppy but the friction is nothing less than delicious. Your finger reaches over to swipe at the leftover cream on the plate, and you press your finger to Jungkook’s mouth, and he immediately complies. A dollop of sweet cream leaks out of his lips and your panties dampen further when you feel his tongue lick you clean, imagaining how good it would feel if it was your pussy he was licking. 

Your mouth waters at the feeling of his dick lining up against your core, as sticky as the strawberry juice that clings to your bodies. 

“C-can I make a confession? I—oh, Jungkook…” your mind is all fuzzed up when he snaps his hips against yours, causing you to shamelessly bounce on his length. 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I like it when you use all your strength like that,” his hips slow as your words sink in, but you don’t mind as it gives you time to make a long drag along the entirety of his member. “Everytime you pull me up when I trip, or you come back from a workout, I like it when you carry me around like I weigh nothing.” 

“Do—do you think about it a lot?” he grunts, and you stifle a moan when he does a slow, hard drag against your wet folds. “Tell the truth.” 

“It’s, it’s embarrassing,” you whimper, unable to think straight with the amount of stimuli you’re receiving.  

“Please, baby.” 

“Yes mm—oh! I do,” you try to get the words out as quickly as you can. He stops moving, and you groan in frustration so you just lay it all out on the table. “I, I love it when you hold me in your strong arms. And, ah, uh w-henever you come back from the gym you just look so sexy fresh from the shower. Sometimes I think about how you’re too damn nice for your own good but I bet you’d be so rough in bed.” 

“Really?” and then he’s shoving you onto the couch, air brushing against your bare thighs as your back hits the beige throw pillows. He’s hovering, dark eyes starting from the tip of your toes to your damp lips. “You like it when I manhandle you? Throw you around like a little doll?” 

“All that strength, and for what?” you try to keep your snappy remarks in check, but it’s hard when he’s pressing his straining dick against your thigh, weeping and needy. 

“You’re not gonna be joking about my strength anytime soon, baby,” emblazoned, he easily throws your leg over his shoulder, pushing your panties to the side to let your wetness leak out and onto his fingers, “are you gonna complain or be a good girl?” 

“Yes, I’m ah—” you wince when he inserts a finger, “I’ll be good for you,” 

“My good girl,” he revels in the way you melt under his touch, your previous sarcasm quickly dissolving into a puddle. You always had an inkling that Jungkook would be a sneaky fox in bed, all that muscle hidden behind a kind smile and a penchant for tea with milk and honey. 

Jungkook slips in another finger, stretching you and preparing you for what’s to come. He’s scissoring you at a sensible pace that has you squirming and wanting more. To prevent you from shimmying off the couch he holds you down with his free hand, and you love the way he practically feeds you to the couch, hands dancing over your neck as he shoves you further into the furniture. 

“You look so gorgeous,” he says, causing you to moan and keen at his attention, “you’re such a strong, gorgeous woman. Having you sprawled out like this, ready to do whatever I want to you is so fucking hot.” 

“I’m—I’m only weak for you Jungkook,” you say honestly, tears pricking when he dips another finger. The stretch burns deliciously, and your folds eagerly swallow him up until you’re filled to the brim. Your fingers or toys cannot compare to flesh, and you sigh in relief when you see his inked fingers pick up the pace once more. 

“You’re damn right,” Jungkook husks, and with a grain of love he murmurs in your ear, “I’m only weak for you, too.” 

And that’s when he snaps, thumb rolling against your bud as he slams his other fingers against you, going at a brutal pace. You cry out, not caring whether his neighbors hear as he pulls you back and forth through pleasure and pain. 

“T-too much, Kookie,” you mewl, your hand warbling to find his, “I, ah, ‘m gonna cum!” 

“That’s the plan,” he only goes faster, stretching your band further and further before your desired high is reached. His hand trails up to force your chin straight, looking up at him, “let go for me, baby. Wanna feel your pussy clench around my fingers.” 

In seconds, you gush. It has you in a slight panic, drunk on endorphins as you try to lift your head up but Jungkook’s hand is firmly pressing you on your shoulder as he fingers you efficiently through your high, the wet squelching sounds only increasing with your cries. His lap is drenched in your arousal, along with his chin and lips glistening with your essence. 

He finally releases you when you’re practically shaking, his hands sticky and creamy. You moan when he shamelessly licks them within your view, making sure to wrap his tongue around his ink-stained digits. 

“I,” your mouth is dry when you feel the dampness that hits your bottom, “I’ve never, I don’t remember ever—” 

Your babbles are lost between your throat and Jungkook’s tongue, shoved deep into your mouth. Tasting your arousal has you practically vibrating in your place, as you two rut against each other like hungry bunnies. 

“God, you’re amazing,” he says between pecks, kissing away your face of any tears you may have pricked, “Amazing, adorable, absolutely beautifulIadoreyousoso—” 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you press your hips up, wiggling for more attention, “please fuck me, Jungkook.” 

You can’t help the witchy, satisfied smile when Jungkook’s eyes darken to a thick coal, “Anything for you,” he murmurs, swinging your legs between his arms as he lifts you like a feather. 

On his lap again, you soon accept that the way you two mesh like puzzle pieces is one of your favorite positions as it gives you both equal space to ravish each other. 

Just when your hand trails to the waistband of his boxer briefs and you’re rolling your thumb over its collected moisture, the moment is shattered when the doorbell rings. You jump in his arms, unprepared for your moment to be interrupted. 

He groans into the crown of your hair, and you soften in his relaxed hold, “I ordered us pizza,” he nearly forgot. 

Perking your head up to look at him you regard him innocently, as if you didn’t release a waterfall on his sweats two seconds ago. “You got us pizza?” 

“I knew you’d be coming over tonight,” he’s pouting into your neck, regretting ever having called the pizza guy if he knew this would happen, “Victoria posted the publish date on Twitter. I just didn’t think,” he gestures vaguely to the mess on his pants, “this would happen.”  

“Damn, and here I thought I was being sneaky,” you chuckle, flicking his ear playfully. 

He gives you an uncharacteristically subby whine, shamelessly upset he has to let you go so fast after he’s given you your first of many highs. Before he weakens further under your beauty, he unceremoniously shoves you off. “Sorry, pretty girl,” you melt at the easy way his pet name rolls off his lips, “can you wait in my room for a bit so I can pay the delivery guy? I don’t want them to see you like this.” 

“But I want to eat pizza,” you declare stubbornly, standing up to button your blouse and pull down your skirt. 

Before you could fasten one button or pull down one centimeter, his hand darts out to snatch your wrist away from your body. It doesn’t hurt much, but it causes your body to heat in more places than one. He’s sexy like this, demanding your attention. “No,” he rumbles definitively, “my room. Now.” 

“Why?” you throw your hands in the air, yelping when he slaps your ass. He makes sure to make it sting, cupping you fully. 

“Because,” he says firmly, “you don’t get to eat until I eat,” you whimper when his hand reaches to cup your sex, panties wet and cold without his warmth as he pushes you in the direction of his bedroom. 

Oh, you can’t wait for both of you to eat tonight. 

some time later.

“Ohmygod the view is beautiful!” Krystal, who works in advertisement, squeals. “No filter needed!” 

“Alright alright, make room Princess,” Namjoon teases. With a bump to Krystal’s tiny hips Namjoon shoves you two across the pavilion, putting his arm around you once he finds the perfect angle, “Umji, can you get a pic of me and my Work Wife? I want this on the Big Hit Instagram!” 

You hold your straw sunhat down from the salty wind, smiling beautifully as Umji takes multiple pictures of you and Namjoon from her Nikon. Another successful year under your notch, ending with a successful work retreat. 

“Namjoon, can I take a picture with my actual wife now?” 

“We’re not married, Jungkook,” you chastise, patting the chest of Namjoon’s floral printed Hawaiian shirt so he can switch. Instantly, Jungkook slides up next to you like a picture perfect stock model piece, and you wrap your arms around his trim waist, “we’re not even engaged.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he pouts, looking over the pavilion and adjusting the both of you so there’s a good amount of you and the resort in the background. The sun may be scathingly hot, but it looks beautiful perched over the crystal clear waters. “Namjoon, you got it easy,” Jungkook says when he hands him your phone, “every angle is our good angle, so you can’t mess it up.” 

Being the honest man he is, Namjoon knows better and doesn’t say anything to that. Instead he shoots down whatever pineapple-flavored concoction is offered to him on a silver platter, and starts shooting. 

“Is this swimsuit new?” Jungkook murmurs into your ear between shots, flicking your little red number by the strap connecting the back, “because I didn’t see this in the luggage.” 

You smile big, pearly whites as Namjoon demands to pop out your butt and work it, pressing your body closer to Jungkook’s. “Tiny enough so I could hide it in my purse,” you reply proudly, voice low for only each other’s ears, “why, surprised?” 

“Definitely not prepared,” his fingers dig deliciously in your bare flesh, “would Victoria fire you if she catches us doing it in the cabana?” 

Amused that your boyfriend now shares your combined awe and fear of your boss, you twist his nipple lightly. He yelps, and from Namjoon’s guaff he’s definitely got that on camera. “We didn’t come to Boracay to fuck in the cabana.” 

“Then the hotel room?” 

Namjoon hands you back your phone when he considers his job done, letting you and Jungkook have some alone time. You wave your phone in his face, trying to get him to focus on the task at hand. You wanted to post some cute pictures of you and your boyfriend, one to impress the family back home and the Big Hit interns back in Seoul who are absolutely pining for your position. 

“Jungkook, they have the water ski thing where you can flip in the water mid air! Doesn’t that sound fun? Or we can go scuba diving, have Filipino food, or get massages. LIterally, we’re on Big Hit’s dime, and the first thing you want to do is go back to the room?” 

“Yes,” he pouts petulantly, leaning into the hollow of your ear and whispering, “got a chub on.” 

Discreetly so, your hands brush against his navy trunks and you note yes, he’s half hard. “No!” you shake your head definitively, pushing him out of your arms. You’re not letting sex get in the way of your hard-earned vacation, you’re on company dime and you intend to milk every peso of it. “Namjoon, take him away!” 

You blow him a kiss and follow another group who’s decided to go eat, watching your boyfriend get dragged away by Namjoon’s long arms. Krystal, who’s been mildly watching the whole ordeal in-between taking selfies, looks at you in awe, “You got it good, bosslady,” she says, and you happily link arms with her in the direction of the restaurants. 

You and Jungkook definitely have it good. You don’t see him until dinnertime, looking utterly relaxed as he sips on a mango-muddled concoction. He must’ve gotten a couples massage with Namjoon, cute. Splitting up was definitely a good idea, by the time your meal arrives the two of you are practically leaning against each other, telling each other what events you need to do tomorrow and events you think will be fun to do together. 

“Joon,” Jungkook is throwing an arm over your Wusband’s shoulder, mildly tipsy. The image is adorable, as Jungkook long ago previously confessed that he felt a little jealous of Namjoon’s work relationship with you before you were dating. Now, it feels like they’re best friends and you’re third-wheeling. “What do you think about having halo-halo tomorrow? It’s like bingsu but with a bunch of other good stuffs. There’s red bean, mango, ube, ice cream…” 

Just as Jungkook begins his tirade of dessert ingredients, you pull up your phone to check on your social media. You smile back at your profile, seeing your latest Instagram post at the very top of the feed. Not to flex, but the two of you look pretty smokin’ since you’ve been keeping up with Jungkook’s insistence to join him at the gym. Jungkook and you are leaning against the pristine veranda, overlooking the clear blue water and a cloudless sky. The smiles you two sport are genuine and utterly in love. 

You scroll down the comments, most of them filled with sweet messages but one of them has you doing a double take. 

@sooyaaa__: 😒😒😒 knew something was goin on behind my back… good riddance

The smell of Jungkook’s detergent overtakes your nostrils, and you turn to him. He’s stopped talking, now immersed in whatever’s going on in your phone. 

“The nerve of her,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, disgusted at her latest comment. “As if anyone would believe her.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, “I feel bad for her, though. She’s probably lonely.” 

“Her loss, she put this upon herself. Not us.” 

You pout, “I know, but she was my friend at one point.” 

He frowns, putting an arm behind your backrest. It would be easy for him to say yeah, and she was my girlfriend and one-up you, leaving it at that. But now he knows better, and that friendship is a much better value than an ill-fated relationship. “Sorry baby,” it’s not his fault, but he sees your disappointment in putting out hope for an old friend. He gives you a little smooch on your temple, “do you miss her?” 

“The old her, yeah,” you sigh, clicking on her profile, “but now? I can do without her negativity.” 

“Okay,” he takes your phone from your hand, “have you ever blocked a person before?”

“No.”

“Well, today’s the day,” he says it so coolly, you barely have time to think when he clicks the ‘block’ button on Jisoo’s profile, then clicking off his phone to put in his pocket. “No more phone for today,” he proceeds to take your plate that was recently served, taking the time to cut your large vegetables into smaller portions. “Like you said, we shouldn’t waste your vacation time.” 

Your heart swells with butterflies for Jeon Jungkook, who’s meticulously cutting your food and telling you to relax and stop dwelling on the past. He’s right, if Jisoo’s not going to stick around for the future and continue to cause negativity in your life, why not keep the positives in the past while it lasted? 

“You know I love you, right?” 

He ceases cutting, and looks at you to pop a sweet potato in his mouth. “Love me enough to do it in the cabana?” 

He’s still on that? “Jungkook,” you warn, pretending to get up, “forget I said anything. I’m gonna go karaoke with Umji.” 

“Kiddingggg,” he whines, pulling you back down with an outstretched hand, “you know I love you too.” 

“You’re terrible.” 

“Only this way because I’d know you’d totally be into cabana sex if we were vacationing by ourselves.” 

“Yes, but you’re still terrible,” you giggle when Jungkook steals a kiss, just as easy as he’s stolen your heart.  

[poisonedapples]

Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids

Chapter One: The New Kid

Story Summary: Roman has to have a completely new start. New school, new town, new home and a new family. As a kid in his first foster home, Roman isn’t prepared to trust these people and get hurt again, but he’s not the only kid in the house recovering from past issues. Regardless, their foster father Patton is ready to be the dad they’ve always needed, and traumatized kids learn to lean on each other for support.

Story Warnings: Past abuse of all types, trauma, and anxiety

Pairings: Familial LAMP

Chapter Summary: Roman moves into his new foster home. He is not having a good time.

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, panic, implied past abuse, food, one vomiting mention, and talk of hidden cameras

Word Count: 6778

Notes: First chapter of a story I’ve wanted to make for my foster au! Thanks to Cornybird on Ao3 for beta-ing this one <3

“Logan, Virgil?” Patton called out from downstairs. “Can you come down here? I wanna talk about something with you!”

Virgil and Logan gave each other curious looks from their sitting places on the same bed. Virgil placed his phone on the nightstand beside him as Logan set his book down at the foot of the bed, both standing up to exit Virgil’s bedroom and head downstairs. At the dining room table was their foster father, Patton, smiling wide with a laptop and notepad in front of him.

“What’s up?” Virgil asked after he and Logan glanced at each other. 

Patton giggled to himself, “Sit down for a second and I’ll tell you! Nothing bad, promise. I think it’s very exciting.”

They quickly sat at the table on the other side of Patton. “So,” Patton joked, “I bet you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you all here today!”

Logan and Virgil spoke in unison. “You’re getting another foster kid.”

Patton blinked. “…How’d you guess it?”

“You’ve been really happy recently, but also very quiet about why you were so happy. You only get like this when you’re bringing another foster kid into the mix. You did the same thing when Logan came along.” Virgil said.

Logan nodded. “Virgil told me about his suspicions due to your behavior, and I agreed with him. I think we both expected you’d make the announcement soon.”

“Oh.” Patton rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t think it was that easy to tell. Well, you guessed right! The new kiddo is moving in on Sunday!”

Logan leaned closer. “What’s their name?”

“His name is Roman Goldsberry. He’s fifteen, and he’s only been in the system for about five months. Though, before this, he was in kinship care with his aunt, so living here is going to be very strange for him. So just be patient with him at first, okay?”

“Yeah yeah, we will be.” Virgil smirked. “But you said he was fifteen?”

“Yup! He’ll be a sophomore in high school this year.”

“Aw, that means Logan’s still the baby in the family.”

Logan blushed. “I’m a teenager. I am not the so-called ‘baby’ of the family.”

“Sounds like something the baby of the family would say.”

“Falsehood!”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Patton tried not to laugh. He knew how much Logan hated being the youngest, but it was hard to act like his reaction wasn’t funny. “Remember, Roman will be here Sunday, so be on your best behavior when he gets here. No spooking him.”

“Got it, got it.” Virgil slouched in his chair and thought. “One more question though. How fucked up is he?”

“Virgil, language.” Patton warned.

“Sorry! It’s just a question. We know you have a soft spot for the most effed up kids you can find.”

“I would have to say I’m curious as well.” Logan agreed. “It’s become a pattern.”

Patton sighed. “He’s not messed up, he’s a kid who’s struggling and needs support. If he wants to tell you two about his past, then he will.”

Virgil groaned. “Fine, fine. Can we go back upstairs now?”

Patton smiled. “Yes, you can go.”

“Great! I’m stealing your book, Logan.”

“Wait, you can’t do that!”

Virgil darted back upstairs with a maniacal laugh as Logan chased him, the sound of bickering teenagers traveling back up the stairs. Patton shook his head in amusement, still listening to the ruckus in case it got out of hand and he needed to step in, but Patton knew his kids. They may tease, but they’re not mean.

Patton continued working on his laptop once the noise quieted down again.

***

“I hate this.”

“I know you do, Roman, but I’m certain you can persevere and find happiness in this new home!” Roman’s social worker, Mr. Picani, smiled hopefully as he continued to drive him to his foster home. Roman was scooted as close to the window as he could possibly get, his legs crossed and clamped together so tight his thighs were getting sore. He didn’t trust Picani, and he sure as hell didn’t trust this new house. No matter what anyone told him.

“I already had a home! Living with my aunt was so much better than whatever could happen here.” Roman’s hands shook just thinking about it. He didn’t know anything about this new person, and the idea of being in a house full of strangers was enabling the more gruesome side of his imagination. He trusted his aunt, at least, but now he was going to a family who could be anyone.

Roman didn’t like the idea of that.

Picani frowned. “You know why your aunt couldn’t house you anymore, Roman. I know it’s not easy, but I think you’ll like this new place! It’s more up north in Foley County, and the area is nice. He also has two other foster children if that helps.”

“How old are the other kids?”

“Fourteen and sixteen, I think. You’ll get to know them more during your time there.”

Roman hummed, looking out the window and digging his nails into his shirt sleeve. He really hoped this foster dad hadn’t touched them before. Even forgetting about himself, a fourteen year old kid having to deal with abuse? Even after getting away from bad parents? He didn’t wish that on anyone.

“And if you ever feel unsafe,” Picani added, “you can always contact me, ‘kay?”

I already feel unsafe. “Okay. How much longer until we’re there?”

“About twenty more minutes. Just enough time to finish the rest of the Tangled movie soundtrack!”

Roman didn’t respond. Normally, he’d love to have a Disney soundtrack he could burst into song with, but he wasn’t feeling it today. And probably wouldn’t be feeling it for a long time.

He just wanted to feel safe. He felt safe with his aunt, but she couldn’t afford to keep him long after the trial since she gave birth to the twins. His aunt was always one of his favorite relatives, one of the few adults he genuinely trusted, now he was going to the house of some random guy named Patton, who he’d only heard of yesterday, and expected to be okay near him. Well, he wasn’t okay. And he wasn’t going to be, ever.

Roman leaned his head on the window and closed his eyes. His hands still shook a little and his chest felt weird, but fighting it now was pointless. Roman just hoped that if this guardian did try something, he’d do it quickly. The sooner Roman told on him to save himself and the other kids, the better.

Though, Roman still felt his hands tingle at the thought. The idea of “getting it over with” made him want to scream and cry. He wrapped his legs tighter together.

After a long time of trying to fight against his own anxious thoughts, Picani pulled into a driveway and stopped the car and Roman opened his eyes to take a look at where they were. He didn’t know the neighborhood, but it seemed like Picani was telling the truth when he said the neighborhood was nice. The house seemed huge, big bushes and flower patches in the front yard and a nice outside paint job. It looked like a house that a functional nuclear family would have, where the dad is a doctor and the mom stays at home with the kids.

Well, looks can be deceiving. Roman thought. Don’t get your hopes up.

“Here we are!” Picani unbuckled his seatbelt with a wide smile. “Grab your suitcases in the back, I’ll knock on the door.”

Roman nodded and got out of the car as Picani popped the trunk. He grabbed two red suitcases and a backpack, closing the car and wheeling it all up to the front door. Picani was there talking to a guy who Roman assumed must be Patton Sanders, and by taking just one look at him…Roman had never seen a person look so much like a dad.

 He was wearing khaki shorts and a light blue polo with tennis shoes and knee socks, thick-rimmed glasses sitting on his face to finish off the dorky look. Patton managed to pull it off, sure, but Roman felt a primal urge from binge-watching Queer Eye to fix that mess of an outfit. 

Before Roman could truly take in the fact that Patton’s knee socks also had kittens on them, Patton smiled wide once he saw Roman in the corner of his eye. “Hello, Roman! It’s so nice to have you, come on in you two!”

Patton stepped aside to hold out the door as Picani and Roman both walked in. Roman scraped his arm on the door frame trying to keep a reasonable distance from Patton, but neither of the adults seemed to notice how Roman was acting. Patton kept smiling away, and Roman tried to see how real that smile truly was. “So, Mr. Picani, I know I have some things to go over with you, so how would you feel if the other kiddos showed you around the house, Roman?”

…Kiddos? “That sounds fine to me.”

“Perfect!” Patton walked over to the staircase and called upstairs. “Logan, Virgil! Can you come down here please?”

Patton’s request was quickly followed by the sound of doors opening and closing. Two kids walked down the stairs; a boy in a black and purple hoodie, and another boy with thick glasses almost the same as Patton’s. They both stared at Roman curiously, and Roman wanted to sink into the floor.

Patton placed an arm over Logan and Virgil’s shoulders and Roman winced at the sight. “So, kiddos, this is Roman! And Roman, this is Logan,” Patton pointed to the kid in glasses. “And Virgil!” He pointed to the kid with the hoodie. The boys didn’t react much besides an awkward half smile directed Roman’s way. “How about you both show him around while I talk to Mr. Picani?”

Virgil shrugged. “Come upstairs, dude.”

Patton let go of both of the boys and walked off into the kitchen with Picani. Roman watched them from the living room for a moment, but he could feel two pairs of eyes staring at him from behind, so he turned around and followed the kids upstairs, bringing his luggage with him.

At the top of the stairs, a long hallway connected six doors on the second floor. Four of the doors were plain, brown doors, but two of them had very distinct personalities shown on the outside. One was covered in stars and planets, the door covered in a starry piece of wallpaper with a metal planet popping out of the background. The other was covered in caution tape saying keep out, with emo band posters poking out from under the tape. Two very different personalities.

“Your room will be this one at the very end of the hallway.” Logan opened the door to the room, turning on the light as Roman peeked inside. “You can place your luggage in here in the meantime.”

Roman nodded and walked inside to throw his luggage onto the floor. The room was very bare, with brown sheets on a twin bed and not much other furniture besides a desk and a dresser. There was a lamp on the desk and a floor lamp next to a door, and one of the opened closet doors showed that the top was covered in random boxes. Some newer-looking stuffed animals were also sitting on the bed; a soft bear and one of those squishy stuffed chickens Roman always saw in stores. It looked like an attempt at a welcoming gift, but new stuffed animals always put Roman on edge. He looked around the room, and the idea of sleeping here made Roman’s heart start to pound. He needed to check this place before he went to sleep that night.

Virgil smirked, taking Roman away from his anxious thoughts. “Damn, you’ve got suitcases? Living the fancy life I see.”

“…What?” Roman reeled.

Logan adjusted his glasses and crossed his arms. “Most foster children move their things using garbage bags. It’s rare we use actual suitcases.”

Roman looked down at his luggage. Suddenly, he felt guilty. “Oh, well…my aunt gave them to me before I moved out, so…”

Virgil shrugged. “What do you wanna see up here first?”

“We could show him our rooms. Or possibly the attic?”

“The attic is cooler.”

“What’s in the attic?” Roman asked.

“It essentially acts as a playroom.” Logan explained. “Board games and a…random assortment of items are all piled up there. It’s quite entertaining to search through, actually.”

“And it’s in the best place ever, come here.” Virgil motioned for Roman and Logan to follow him. He stopped at one of the doors, opening it and letting Roman peek over his shoulder to look inside. It looked like a normal walk-in closet, first aid and toilet paper on one side with batteries and rows of shampoo on the other. Virgil walked in with a smirk, “Now, check this shit out.”

Virgil jumped and pulled on a string dangling from the roof, unraveling a steep staircase through the closet leading up to a hole in the roof. Virgil started to climb the stairs as Logan followed suit, so Roman climbed right after them.

When Roman made it to the top, his eyes widened with wonder. Granted, it wasn’t anything too spectacular, surely not like something in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, but the fact that this hidden space existed made Roman feel excited. At his old house, he barely even had his own room to himself, so a place like this was paradise.

The walls were painted white with a giant window above a sitting area on the other side of the room. Shelves of items scattered the walls, and the rug on the floor was so clean Roman wondered how they even got a vacuum up here. It wasn’t anything like his old attic, stuffed with random items from over the years and covered in spiderwebs. Roman felt like he could spend most of his day here.

“We have a lot of various toys up here.” Logan said. He gestured to the boxes on one of the shelves. “Pokémon cards, a chess set, Magic the Gathering, lots of Lego sets, craft supplies, most of our toys make their way up here.”

Roman’s head perked up. “…Craft supplies?”

Logan nodded. “I believe we have paints and drawing utensils.”

Roman looked at the bottom of the shelf Logan gestured toward. There was a box of small painting canvases with paints and brushes, and though they definitely looked cheap, Roman saw them and grew excited as he took out a canvas and the paints in wonder.

“Kiddos!” A voice yelled from the staircase. Logan and Roman walked over to the stairs to look down, but Virgil stayed in his place on a beanbag near the window. Patton and Picani stood at the bottom, and Patton smiled. “Now, what are you all doing up there?”

“We’re showing him around the house.” Logan said matter-of-factly.

“You are, huh?” Patton crossed his arms. “Does he know where the bathroom is?”

Logan blinked. Virgil called out from behind both of them. “He knows where the important things are!”

Patton tried not to smile, but he lost that battle quickly. “Well, Mr. Picani is leaving right now, Roman.”

“How ‘bout you come down here and I talk to you in private for a sec?” Picani asked.

“Uh, alright!” Roman climbed down the stairs and followed Picani out of the closet, while Patton climbed up the stairs into the attic. They both stepped away to the other side of the hallway, and suddenly Picani’s face became very serious.

“Do you feel safe in this house, Roman?” He asked.

Roman clenched his fist and bit his cheek. No, he didn’t, actually. He didn’t know what Patton would do once the coast was clear from guests, and the idea of what could happen was freezing him from the inside out. The only place Roman would feel truly safe was if he was back in the hospital.

But Roman knew that wasn’t possible, and he couldn’t keep bothering Picani all the time for fears that couldn't be helped. He had to be on his own. Alone.

“I think I do. They…seem like good people.” Roman lied. He’d have to find another way to survive.

Picani smiled, not noticing Roman’s unease. He always was a great actor. “Amazing! Let me know if anything comes up, bucko, and I’ll talk to ya again soon! But until then…so long, farewell, auf wiedersehen goodnight!”

Picani walked downstairs and waved behind him, laughing at his own reference as he walked out the door. Roman watched him from the staircase until he could see the car leaving the driveway through the window, and Roman felt truly hopeless. This was a nightmare.

He stood frozen on the staircase for a while, staring through the window with a hope of Picani turning back and saving him. But no car came into the driveway, and Roman didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. What do you even do when living in a house full of strangers?

“Heya, kiddo!” Roman jumped at the voice coming from behind him, jerking his head back and pushing his back up against the wall. It was Patton, smiling wide with a concerned look in his eyes at Roman’s reaction. “I’m sorry, Roman, I didn’t mean to scare you! I just wanted to ask if you wanted me to give you the rest of the tour. I’ll show you everything you need this time!”

Patton laughed at himself, but Roman felt the need to vomit. Patton was close, way too close, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t want to be roaming around the house with him, vulnerable and nowhere to hide. He needed to be somewhere safe.

“Uh, no, I’m fine! I’ll figure it out myself!” Patton raised an eyebrow at him, but Roman didn’t care. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Patton’s voice became softer. He pointed to the left of him, down the opposite direction of Roman’s room. “It’s over there. Are you sure you’re alright? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine!” Roman darted past Patton quickly and out of reach, rushing into the bathroom and locking it behind him. He pressed his back against the door and sat down, pressing his feet against the sink, ready to fight against the door if someone tried to open it. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly, trying to even out his scattered breathing. He knew Patton was outside of the door, he could feel it. He just needed to be somewhere safe.

Roman didn’t move from his spot on the floor, eventually curling into himself and resting his head on his knees. He was so tired, the whole day his heart had been pounding with anxiety and he was sick of it. What did it take to feel safe? Was it even possible for Roman to feel safe anymore?

He didn’t want an answer to that. He was just so tired.

 Roman closed his eyes and leaned his body against the bathroom wall, ignoring all his aches from the strange position and trying to give himself some comfort. His body was exhausted but his mind kept racing, thinking of all the things that could go wrong while living here. He tried to fight the anxious thoughts, but Roman figured it wasn’t that big of a deal. If he threw up in the toilet maybe they’d leave him alone for the day.

But Roman never got to that point. He rested on the floor and let his body shake, taking some deep breaths at times to feel less like he was suffocating. Eventually, a knock came to the bathroom door, and it took everything in Roman not to yelp.

“Are you still in there, Roman?” Roman could tell the voice was Logan, and that helped him relax a little more. He took in a big breath and tried to act normal.

“Yes, sorry. Do you need it?” He asked.

“I’m alright. I simply wanted to ask if you wanted to come downstairs and use the paints you seemed so interested in.”

Roman’s ears perked up at that. He forgot all about the paints, and it would be something that could ease his mind a little. But Roman wasn’t that dumb. He knew this was a plan to get him out of the bathroom. Though…he might not mind that much if he wasn’t alone.

“…Would you sit with me?” Roman asked. He doubted Patton would try anything so long as they weren’t alone together, and if he pleased them enough, maybe they’d leave him alone.

Logan was slow to respond. “I suppose I can if you wish for me to.”

Roman rolled his eyes at that sentence. What a nerd, he thought, standing up and slowly unlocking the door to the bathroom before opening it. He looked through the crack to check if Patton was standing behind Logan, but no one else was there. Logan stood there patiently with his hands clasped behind his back, and Roman fully exited the bathroom.

“I set the box on the dining room table. However, Patton is also there making a pizza for dinner.”

Roman froze. The same room as Patton? “… I’ll go, but you have to stay near me.”

Logan nodded. He led the way down the stairs while Roman followed, entering the dining room through the connected area in the living room. On the table was the box of painting supplies, and Roman ran toward them to start taking them out, trying to ignore the fact that he could see Patton in the corner of his eye. He grabbed a canvas and the cheap paints, as well as a plastic pallet and all the brushes. All that he needed was a cup of water, but…the sink was right next to where Patton was.

Roman drummed his fingers on the table. “…Logan, can you get me a cup of water?”

“Alright.” Logan stood up and grabbed a cup from the cupboard, filling it with water and handing it to Roman. Roman murmured a thank you, and Logan sat back down at his seat. He was grateful that Logan didn’t ask why Roman couldn’t get it himself.

“So, Roman,” Roman stiffened at the sound of Patton’s voice. “Are you an artsy kid?”

Roman gripped hard onto his paints, squirting out a lot more orange than he meant to. “I guess, yeah. I like art.”

“Do you like to paint, or are you more of a sketchy kinda guy?”

“Uh…all of it. Painting, drawing, coloring, I used to make a lot of stuffed animals too.”

“Awww, that sounds adorable!” The oven beeped and Patton put on his oven gloves and pulled out the pizza. “It’s probably best I don’t know how to make stuffed animals though. If I did, this house would be full of little stuffed puppies!”

Roman didn’t respond. He focused completely on mixing red and orange for a perfect sunset color, attempting to get a good gradient with the lack of shade variety. Once he filled in his sunset and blended it with a dark night sky, he mixed his white with a dot of gray and made darker clouds, dotting them above his rough-looking hill. He wanted to add more texture to the bottom of the canvas, maybe some trees, but he didn’t know how to make good ones without a fan brush. Maybe he could add some grass…

“Alright, the pizza is cooled down and ready!” Roman noticed Patton put a plate next to his painting, so he pushed all his supplies out of the way so he could eat. Patton set down more plates around the table as Virgil walked in. “It was a real pizza work if I do say so myself!”

Logan rolled his eyes and Virgil held back a snort, but Roman didn’t quite know how to react. He might have found the dad joke more amusing if he wasn’t so on edge.

Roman took a bite of the pizza. It wasn’t anything spectacular, just a store-bought one that you heat up in the oven and serve, but Roman didn’t realize he was so hungry until now. He had skipped lunch because his nerves about coming here were making his stomach churn, but finally having food near him was bringing back that hunger. Roman’s foot was still tapping violently under the table, but it was progress.

Everyone ate their pizza in silence. It was incredibly awkward on Roman’s end, no stories to tell as this table full of strangers kept making glances at him. Patton was the worst with it. He seemed to want to say something to Roman, continuously making eye contact with him until Roman looked away, but still not saying a word. He couldn’t take it. He hated it, but he hated this silence even more. Roman swallowed the pizza bite he was chewing and opened his mouth.

“So,” Roman started, “what do I…call you anyway?”

“Me?” Patton asked, his eyes lighting up. Why would his eyes light up at that?

“Yeah. Do I say Mr. Sanders, or…?”

“Oh, Patton works just fine! I hear Mr. Sanders way too often at work to wanna hear it at home too!”

“Oh, where- where do you work?” At least it wasn’t so quiet anymore.

“I’m a nurse practitioner for a clinic. It’s a lot of fun, just a lot of work. At least my hours aren’t as crazy as most nurses.”

“Oh that’s…cool.” Roman didn’t know how to continue off of that.

“It is! Is there anything else you wanna ask me, though? Maybe about the house, routines, anything?”

“Well…what are the rules here?” That seemed like a very safe question to have. It could save Roman a lot of trouble, and it could give him more of a read on the kind of parent Patton was.

“Oh, it’s not that much. You’re old enough to clean up after yourself, so make it a habit to pick up your own things and not put that stuff on other people. Be kind to everyone else, and the only rule I’m very strict about is no yelling. You can be loud sometimes, but no angry yelling at anybody here. The last one is to respect others’ privacy. Always knock on someone’s bedroom door before entering. But that’s really it, I think!”

How often do you break that last rule? “That seems reasonable, I suppose.”

Patton smiled. “I think you’ll do just fine here, kiddo. I know it’s hard to start over, but you won’t be alone during it!”

“…Thank you.”

“And I’m sure Virgil and Logan could help out a little bit, since they’ve been in the same situation! Right, you two?”

Virgil was halfway through trying to stick a whole piece of crust in his mouth. “…Uh huh.”

“…Virgil, chew your food.”

“Lo’an ‘old me I cou’ do it!”

“Do not drag me into this.”

Virgil hid his mouth behind his hand as he chewed for a long period of time. “You’re just avoiding your responsibility.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m finished, so try not to choke now.”

“Now I’m gonna choke just to spite you.”

“Please do not start a choking contest, Virge.”

Virgil groaned before swallowing the last of his crust. He followed Logan to the dishwasher and put his plate in, closing it and scurrying away back upstairs. Logan hesitated leaving the dining room, looking between Patton and Roman. Roman couldn’t tell if Patton noticed Logan’s hesitation or if it was just perfect timing, because he also got up and put his plate in the dishwasher.

“When you finish, Roman, just put your dishes away.”

“I can do that.”

Patton smiled and walked off into the living room, sitting on the couch to watch some TV show seemingly about cute puppies and kittens. Logan glanced at Roman again.

“Do you still want me to stay?” Logan asked.

Roman ate the last of his pizza and pushed his plate to the side, grabbing his painting again to put in front of him. It was the most effective thing at calming him down. “…No, I should be okay.”

Logan nodded and walked upstairs. Roman tried to fully immerse himself in his painting, focusing on every last detail and how he could make it better without over-detailing it. Roman put more green on his brush and started to dot at his hill on the bottom, trying to add little blades of textured grass. It was a long process, just enough to take the majority of his focus and calm his hands.

…Roman felt really weird here. It didn’t feel like he lived in this house, now. It felt like he was spending the day with some friends, and his aunt would come pick him up before the sun went down. But no, these new kids were his foster brothers and the adult he was terrified of was expected to act as his new dad. There was no one coming to save him, he was expected to sleep here and eat here and live here. This was supposed to be his safe space.

Roman rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. Don’t focus on that now, he thought. Focus on the painting.

So he did focus. He focused on monotonous texture additions and watching the paint dry on his canvas as he went along, letting the repetitive action calm his mind just a little bit. His calming method seemed to be working too well, actually, as the more details he added and stared at the paint, Roman realized that his constant panic today had completely exhausted him. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet and Roman could feel his eyelids get heavier. He rubbed at his eyes again and tried to focus.

Roman yawned once. He yawned twice and rubbed his eyes as he kept adding minor details to his painting. Then, after a while, Roman scooted his painting to the side and laid his head down on the table.

***

“…Roman, wake up, please.”

Roman buried his head deeper in his arms. “Come on Roman, it’s late.”

Roman groggily lifted his head up. Patton was sitting in the chair across from him, the lights were all off except for the one light above the dining table. Roman looked around him, and noticed that it was dark outside now. Shit.

“You fell asleep, but that’s okay. It’s bedtime now, and the other two are already in bed, so how about you go get ready and sleep in your bed? I bet it’s comfier than the table.”

Roman dug his palm into his eye. “…What time is it…?”

“About 10:20. You all have bedtime at ten.”

“…But I’m fifteen?” Roman gave Patton a confused and sleepy look. He hasn’t had a bedtime since he was twelve, especially one that was so early. His mom only told him to be in bed by midnight.

Patton smiled. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Logan is the only one who needs a bedtime, but I don’t want him to feel left out because he’s the only one asleep. So, how about you get ready for bed?”

Roman nodded and got out of his chair. The more he walked, the more he woke up, and he could tell by the time he went back upstairs that he wasn’t going to go back to sleep for a while since he could feel his heartbeat in his chest again. Patton followed him upstairs, turning off the dining room light as they went. Roman got his bathroom bag out from his smaller suitcase and a cotton shirt with sweatpants for pajamas, bringing it all with him to the bathroom. He closed the door as he brushed his teeth for the night, placing his bag in the bottom drawer after he did. He changed into his pajamas carefully, taking the towel on one of the racks to hide his lower half under as he switched pants, taking his other clothes and throwing them into a laundry basket.

When Roman stepped out of the bathroom, Patton was leaning against a wall waiting for him. He smiled at Roman, but Roman still ran past him to get as far away as he could get. Patton didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care. Roman shifted on his feet awkwardly before closing his door.

“Um…goodnight.” He finally said. Patton seemed satisfied with this.

“Goodnight, Roman.”

Roman finally closed the door to his bedroom, waiting until he heard the door on the other end of the hallway open and close. Almost immediately after, as if another force was controlling him, Roman started to tear the place apart.

He checked the charging ports in the walls, the lamp, under the bed’s covers and behind every piece of furniture. He stood on top of his suitcase to check the vents and took out all the drawers in the dresser. He punched the stuffed animals to see if he could feel wires, but he still couldn’t find it. He couldn’t find it.

Roman felt himself start to pant. He refused to go to bed until he found it. No matter how well hidden it was, Roman knew there was a camera in here. He couldn’t stop until he found it.

Roman grabbed the boxes at the top of the closet and tossed everything out of them, checking every spare blanket and binder before throwing them across the room when he found nothing. He took the hangers out of the closet and threw them on the floor, shining his phone light on the wall of the closet to find a hole. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Tears sprung into Roman’s eyes as he choked on his own breath. “Where the hell is it!?” He whispered, slamming the closet door closed and moving to check the bed. He tore the bedsheets off and checked the mattress, lifting it up as well to check the bed frame for anything that could be used to record. Nothing.

“Come on, please-” Roman took out the drawer from the bedside table. Nothing. He unscrewed the lightbulb from the lamp, almost shattering it from his tight grip. Nothing. He threw the lamp onto the bed and kicked the nightstand over. Nothing.

Roman choked out a sob as his whole body started to shake. This wasn’t fair, he spent all that time trying to get away from his dad only to end up in a place that hid cameras better than him. Roman gripped the covers he’d thrown and punched the floor next to them, the ache being an almost pleasant distraction from his own head. But his mind continued to race and his crying didn’t let up. The only thing Roman could manage to get out of his mouth was “No, no!”

Then, between Roman’s sobbing, he heard a knock at the door.

Roman froze in place. A feeling of dread spread through his chest and made his fingers go numb. For a second, Roman forgot to breathe as he remembered he forgot to lock the door.

Roman’s body was stiff, but his mind was going a mile a minute in a desperate attempt to save himself. He could hide in the closet, but since he tore everything out of there, if someone opened the door they’d immediately find him. He could hide under the bed, but without the covers to reach the floor it was easy to see he was under there. Roman choked on his own breath when he realized there was nowhere to hide-

“Roman?” The knock came back to the door, gentler than the first time. It wasn’t Patton’s voice like Roman feared, it was Virgil. Raspy and tired-sounding, but without a doubt Virgil.

“Y-yeah?” Roman squeaked out.

“Uh, can I…can I come in?”

Roman’s death grip on the covers loosened up slightly. “Yes…”

Virgil slowly turned the doorknob and opened it, slipping in through the smallest crack and closing the door slowly so it wouldn’t click. Once he was inside, Virgil’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of the destroyed room. “…Holy shit dude.”

Roman tried to dodge the situation, “What do you want?”

“I was gonna come in here and make a joke, like, ‘quiet down it sounds like a tornado is going through here’, but now I think I predicted the fucking future.” Roman put his head down as Virgil looked around in shock. “What the fuck happened?”

Roman wiped away his tears with the palm of his hands, digging into his eyes so hard he saw stars for a moment. “…There’s a camera in here.”

Virgil backed up more towards the door. “Wait, there is?” He darted his eyes around the room looking for what Roman was talking about. Roman let out a shaky breath.

“I haven’t found it yet, but I know it’s in here somewhere!” More tears went down Roman’s face as he hugged himself. Virgil seemed to realize what Roman was babbling on about. “I know Patton put a camera in here for me and I’m freaking out because I can’t find it!”

Virgil looked around at the mess again. He sighed. “I’m not good at this shit…you’re certain it’s in here?”

“Yes!”

“Hey, hey, don’t yell.” Virgil warned. “Pat and Logan are still asleep and I don’t think you’d like all that extra attention right now.”

He was right. If Logan and Patton came in here, Roman didn’t know what he’d do about it. It was the last thing he wanted, so Roman obeyed. “I just…I don’t know what to do…I can’t sleep until I find it.”

Virgil seemed to be thinking. He tugged on the neck of his pajama shirt before speaking. “How about we both make a deal?”

Roman lifted his head up to look at Virgil. “…Deal?”

“We’ll trade rooms for the night. There wouldn’t be a camera in my room if he’s trying to watch you, right?”

Roman paused. “…What if he’s watching you too?”

“I’ve lived here for two years. You think I wouldn’t have noticed a camera in my room by now?”

Roman thought about it. He did have a point, it was hard to go that long without finding the camera. Or at least, have your guardian have it slip that they’ve been watching you. And anything was better than staying in this place.

“…We can trade. Thanks.”

Virgil shrugged. “You know where my room is. Just slip in and don’t wreck all my shit.”

Roman laughed a little bit at that one. Virgil grabbed the sheets and covers off the floor and began to remake the bed as Roman grabbed his backpack and started to slowly open the door. But before he left, Roman had to say one more thing for his own piece of mind. “…Don’t touch my suitcases. I-I’ll know if you do.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. “…I won’t.”

Roman opened the door and softly closed it behind him, slipping into the room next door covered in caution tape. He turned on the light and set his backpack down on the floor, looking around him at all the things that showed Virgil’s personality. Emo band posters covered the walls that were painted a dark purple, with dark wood furniture and Hot Topic decorations all over the place. Just looking at this room told him how angsty this kid was.

Roman shook it off and unzipped his backpack. He could deal with angsty decorations for the night, so long as this place could be safe from creeps. He took out his secret weapon from his backpack, something he secretly bought behind his aunt’s back with his babysitting money, the one item that made him feel secure in a home. He pulled out the security bar, locked Virgil’s door, and placed it under the door handle. Even if someone undid the lock, they wouldn’t be able to sneak inside while he was sleeping.

Roman’s heart calmed down a little for the first time in weeks. Even if it wasn’t much, he felt safe, maybe even safe enough to get some rest for once. Roman crawled into Virgil’s bed, covering himself in his very tasteful Jack Skellington covers, and tried to rest.

Roman’s hands still shook, and his head felt funny, but he eventually drifted off into a light sleep full of anxiety and nightmares.