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personasintro · 8 months

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Mutual Help | #38

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 14.1k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

Seokjin's parents, or whoever from his family owns this cabin, surely know their style around interior design. As soon as you stepped into the huge wooden cabin, you could confirm Jimin's words of his parents being loaded. There's no denying that. Apart from the luggage laying here and there, everything is very neat and the whole place smells like wood with a hint of freshness.

There is an art hanging on the wall, a few pictures of snowy mountains and trees which makes you think this cabin is mostly used in winter. When you step out of the corridor, there's an open room with two big couches on opposite sides with two circled coffee tables between them. The fireplace looks modern but still matches the warm toned interior very well.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

You almost jump at the sudden deep but tender voice beside you. Taehyung smirks when he notices the way you flinch and lightly nudges him in the arm.

"Have you been here before?" you wonder, glancing at your friend who nods.

"Just once, it was like three years ago but this place has been renovated since then." he explains, hearing you hum in return as you stare at the flames in the fireplace.

This specific corner of this room is most likely used to just sit down and chill. Despite its modernity and size, it seems like a cozy place to be at and you can imagine yourself just sitting there, talking about whatever. It's even better that there's no television.

"Is this an old cabin? That's why they renovated it?" you ask, dragging your suitcase closer to you as you and Taehyung stand and admire the interior together.

"Oh no," Taehyung chuckles, "This place was beautiful even before they decided to renovate it. I mean, it looks way better now since the interior is more modern and it's up to date. It screams money in every direction you look but still... the previous interior had its own charm if you know what I mean."

"Yeah..." you murmur, "People renovate when they don't know what to do with their money." you think out loud, wondering how it'd feel like to be completely loaded.

And here you are, with a broken car that might be already fixed but it's still old and will need another fix in the near future. Luckily, you've managed to save enough money to be able to afford a newer car. Just two more months with your usual salary and working in a club, and you're all free to look for a better car.

"So..." Taehyung starts, lowly and cautiously, shifting from one foot to another which just makes you snort and arch your brow at him. "How are you?"

"How am I?" you chuckle, "Why are you asking me this?"

You're not stupid. You could've recognized his prying tone from the second he opened his mouth and he does a terrible job at trying to act as casual as possible.

"With Jungkook and Haneul being here," he clears his throat, "And Kiko."

You straighten yourself, sighing as Taehyung keeps his eyes solely on you watching you like a hawk. It's been a while since you and Taehyung talked alone, just the two of you without any of your friends. Sure, you called him because you were worried when Jimin told you he was sick. But there is only so much the phone call can do. It makes sense he voices out his worries, even though part of you knows Taehyung loves gossip and lives for the drama. Still, you can see honesty and genuine worry in his brown soft eyes.

And it's only fair he's asking you this, specifically. He probably thinks this trip will end up with drama, considering Jungkook is here with Kiko and you are with Haneul. Most importantly, he still thinks you and Jungkook were dating. Even though he could see you and Jungkook being the same old you, from all those times you've hung out with your friends after your 'break-up', this time you're not kissing or touching each other because you're no longer dating.

Regardless of that, he finds it weird that all of you are here and are about to spend the New Year's Eve together. And you can't blame him. It's weird for you too but you pushed your bitter emotions and thoughts about Kiko aside. All you want is to have fun and celebrate New Year with your boyfriend and friends.

Looking around, you realize there's no one around you and everyone is in safe distance from you and Taehyung, catching up with each other.

"Come here," you murmur to him, taking him by his wrist and pushing him aside, closer to the wall so you're not standing in the middle of the entrance. Dragging your suitcase with you, you ignore Taehyung's doe eyes and the quite intrigued look he gives you. "I've to tell you something."

"Spit it out sis, I'm all ears." Taehyung says excitedly, causing you to snort as you scold him with your frown.

"But you've to promise me not to yell when I tell you."

Thinking about this now, you should've told him when you will be alone with him but now it seems to be like the right time. You just have to make sure Taehyung won't catch any more eyes and ears as soon as you tell him. You know him. He can be quite expressive.

"You're not pregnant, are you?" Taehyung widens his eyes, suddenly eyeing your stomach that's perfectly hidden with your sweater.

You almost choke on your spit. "What? No!" you exclaim.

"Ahhh, I hate when you keep me waiting. Tell me." he whines like a little kid, causing you to roll your eyes at his impatience. Is this how Jungkook feels like when you're being impatient and whiny? Probably.

"Okay," you sigh, embracing yourself to tell Taehyung the truth but not before you look around to see if there are any prying eyes on you. There are not. You're the least interesting pair to look at, not when everyone seems to be too invested to catch up with one another or give praise to Seokjin about the cabin.

Here we go.

"I don't really feel weird about Jungkook being here with Kiko, well, I do feel a little bitter over it." you roll your eyes at yourself. A little bitter? A lot, actually. Judging by the way Taehyung raises his brow, he probably thinks the same thing.

"As you should," he purses his lips, nodding furiously as his fluffy hair bounces on his head. "God, I still can't believe he's with her. Not after everything she did to him. Can you believe that?"

"Tell me something about it." you murmur, but Taehyung doesn't stop there.

"You are so much better than her," he says, almost proudly at himself for saying it as it makes you chuckle in amusement. "Sorry, I know you are with Haneul right now but still." he shrugs innocently, causing you to wave him off.

"Well, the thing is..." you start, looking around once again as Taehyung's brows pinch together in confusion. "I know how it makes Jungkook look because he brought Kiko and we were dating--" The way you say dating causes Taehyung to frown even in bigger confusion.

"I mean... I know you guys are... well, you. So I'm not even surprised you seem unaffected by your relationship, okay maybe a little bit but I'm not catching up. You better spit it out before I start whining again." he warns you, causing you to laugh silently as you shake your head at his goofiness.

"Me and Jungkook never dated. It was all fake," you tell him quietly, leaning closer to him so he can hear you perfectly as his mouth hangs open as soon as you say it. He freezes in his spot and you push his chin up to shut his mouth as he slowly looks at you.

"Please say something, this is already getting too awkward for me."

"Fake?" Is all he mumbles, quietly and innocently as he widens his eyes.

"Yeah, we had this deal and it included me pretending to be his girlfriend."

"What? No!" he suddenly whines loudly, or more like yells, causing Seokjin and Hoseok to look at you from afar as you scold Taehyung with a nudge to his forearm.

"What do you mean no?"

"I've been shipping you for months!" he exclaims, causing you to shush him again as he ignores you and looks completely shocked at the sudden news. "Woah, I can't believe this. You guys played it all along? This is so fucking dissappointing."

You snort at him. "Come on, me and Jungkook are friends."

He rolls his eyes. "Oh friends for sure," he spits sarcastically, ignoring the way you press your lips into a tight line. "But you were all over each other, you can't possibly make me believe it was all fake!"

"Taehyung, be quiet please," you scold him, pleadingly staring at him as he just shakes his head in utter shock. "We were all over each other because we--oh fuck it. We were hooking up."

Taehyung dramatically spreads his hand over his chest as he gasps. "You were hooking up?" he whisper-yells, lips stretching to a wide smile. "Well, at least that's something. How was he?"

"Tae, I'm not telling you that."

"Is he bigger than Haneul?"

"Taehyung!" you scold him, cheeks red as Taehyung devilishly cackles. "I just thought you should know. I felt so bad for not telling you and Jimin from the start. You kept asking about us and were so confused all the time, I really felt bad. But it's not something you go and talk about so freely." you tell him, mainly trying to change the topic which Taehyung eyes you for a moment but doesn't say anything about it.

"No, I get that," Taehyung says softly and understandably, "Wow, I need a shot after this."

You laugh at him. "Come on, let's go upstairs to check our rooms. You are sharing a room with Jimin, right?"

He nods, stopping you by calling your name quietly when you're ready to take a step. "I won't tell anyone. It's your and Jungkook's private thing, as much as I'm disappointed by the news," you roll your eyes playfully, "But thank you for telling me. I won't tell anyone, not even to Jimin."

"Oh, Jimin already knows." At this, Taehyung's jaw falls on the floor as he looks scandalized.

"Jimin? He knew?"

You sheepishly shrug, "Yeah, he only found out recently though. It was when we went ice-skating, me and Jungkook got into an argument and then I told Jimin. It was me who asked him not to tell you, I'm sure it was very hard to keep his mouth shut since you guys are like friend soulmates or whatever. I wanted to tell you by myself or with Jungkook, but now felt like a good idea."

"So who else knows?"

"Only you, Jimin and Kiko, I think. That is if she didn't tell Hoseok which I personally think she probably did."

"What? She knows too?" Taehyung is even more shocked, scrunching his nose.

"Yeah, Jungkook told her. I mean, I can understand that. At least she doesn't have to feel too uncomfortable with me being here even though I don't really care if she does or not. But it's better for everyone if she knows the truth. And you know Jungkook, he's been always honest."

Sounds like Jungkook, Taehyung thinks.

"Does she at least know you were banging her man?"

You snort at Taehyung, pushing him to the side as he laughs. "Yeah, he told her that part too."

"You said you and Jungkook argued. Did his competitive ass annoy you again?"

You smile at that, fully knowing what Taehyung means. It happened more than once that you got annoyed when you and Jungkook were hanging out, with Jimin and Taehyung too of course, and he got too competitive at whatever you were playing or doing. It caused arguments between you two, or more accurately you being annoyed and pissed at Jungkook while he kept making fun of you and teasing you for being so grumpy.

"No, I wish it was one of those stupid arguments that aren't really arguments," you admit, "I just said something painful and hurt him, even though he asked me to respect his decision."

"Oh, shit. Don't tell me you brought up Kiko cheating."

You cringe, just enough of an answer to Taehyung. "Yeah, it's even worse because Jungkook just voiced out his worry about me going late from work and using public transportation. So I told him to worry about his own girlfriend and he said something about not having to worry about her because she's not stupid... and I might've said she's just stupid enough to cheat. I know, I know!" you exclaim, already seeing Taehyung's pursed lips and the whole face that screams 'not cool'.

You feel your insides uncomfortably squeeze from the recall of your and Jungkook's argument. There's nothing you can do to change it, what's done is done. At least you and Jungkook managed to work it out.

"I feel bad enough about it. I was being such a bitch. He asked me a couple of times to respect his decision and I just brought that up. I hurt him that time, Tae."

"Don't blame yourself too much," he tells you, "You guys are both so fucking stubborn but whatever happens between you two, you manage to work it out." he says as if he could read your previous thoughts.

"We did manage to work it out," you admit, "He's just so good and seeing him with her, out of all people is just..."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Ever since Jungkook told us in a club she cheated-- well, I might've called her a bitch."

You gasp, "No you didn't!"

"I sure did," he muses proudly, "But hey, I'm just having my friend's back. Jungkook definitely deserves better but that guy is so fucking stubborn and too blindly in love."

"As long as he is happy." you shrug, ignoring the way Taehyung glances at you for a few seconds.

"I really was happy for the two of you when you said you're dating. I was very confused and shocked at the beginning for sure, I think we all were, I just can't believe you faked it." he chuckles in disbelief, causing you to give him a gentle smile and a shrug.

"I'm sorry for lying to you guys. We felt guilty about it this whole time."

"No, it's okay," Taehyung waves you off, "Dammit, I was saying the other day to Jimin that you and Jungkook looked so good together."

You awkwardly nibble on your lower lip, simply shrugging. "That's just because you were shipping us." you try to joke, seeing how Taehyung purses his lips and determinedly nods.

"I sure was," he agrees, "But hey, Haneul seems like a nice guy. I'm happy for you."

"He is," you smile. At the mention of Haneul, he must be waiting for you in your room for the next few days. "Should we get upstairs to check those rooms?"

"Yeah, let's go." Taehyung says, still looking quite shocked from the news but overall he gives you a reassuring smile as he leads you upstairs, helping you with your suitcase at the stairs.

The second floor and its design is just as magnificent as what you've seen of the cabin so far. The mixture of white paint and wooden ceiling creates a modern but very warm feeling to it. Your attention to the wonderful interior is washed away as soon as you see Haneul, peeking from one of the rooms with a big smile as he waves you over. You smile, making your way towards him and curiously stepping into the bedroom, while Taehyung informs you he's going to check on Jimin and their room.

"It's beautiful here," Haneul comments as soon as your mouth falls open.

The bedroom is not huge but probably bigger than the bedroom and kitchen together back in your apartment. There's nothing special in the room besides the bed, two chest of drawers and a tall wardrobe. What else do you need there, right? From the looks of it, it looks like the bed is king size.

"This was the last room with one bed. I hope you don't mind." Haneul informs you, murmuring the last sentence self-consciously as you turn around to be met with him nibbling on his bottom lip.

Letting out a gentle chuckle, you walk towards him before you hug him. "Of course, I don't mind. We're sharing a bed when you sleep at mine, remember?" you cheekily remark, looking up at him as he sheepishly nods and grins, pleased with your answer as he pecks your lips.

When you pull away from each other, you decide to unpack some of your clothes. Everyone seems to do that, judging from the constant rustling and people walking here and there, until Seokjin calls for everyone to come downstairs in ten minutes.

"I guess he wants to tell us something." you think out loud as you neatly place one of your jeans into the drawer.

"How long have you known him?" Haneul asks, placing his own clothes to the other chest of drawers, stealing a glance at you before he goes back to his task.

"Who? Seokjin?"

He hums, kneeling to his suitcase to pull out more of his clothes.

"I don't know to be honest. He's not exactly my friend. Jungkook, Jimin and Tae introduced me to him since he's their friend, along with Hoseok and Namjoon. You'll meet them later," you tell him once you see him frown in confusion at the foreign names. "But I've seen Seokjin a couple of times, nothing fancy. Just whenever I hung out with the guys and he was there with the rest of the gang."

You glance at Haneul whose eyes are attached to his own task, but you notice the way he nods along your words. He's cute while he does it, making you smile at him. He genuinely seems curious about your life and never fails to try and get to know you even more. It's one of the things you appreciate about him the most.

"Should we go downstairs?" you ask after a moment. You can always place the rest of your clothes and stuff later.

"Yeah, let's go," Haneul says, closing his suitcase as he drags it beside the chest of the drawers, so it's not placed messily in the middle of the room. He does the same thing with yours which you thank him for. Just as he's ready to take your hand, his phone starts to ring.

"It's my mom," he says, brows pinched together for a moment. "I've to take this."

"Yeah, of course. I'll wait outside or downstairs." you tell him, giving him some privacy.

He gives you a gentle smile, thanking you as you're already getting out of the room and closing the door to muffle the sounds from other rooms and a hallway. Just as you're walking out of there, you bump into a firm body that makes you let out a surprised yelp and almost stumble back to the closed door.

"Easy there, tiger," Jungkook muses, hands securely on your shoulders to prevent you from bumping into the door. "Barely an hour here and you're ready to run for the hills?"

His amused toothy grin is the first thing you see when you fully take him in, your eyes rolling but your own lips twisting to a grin. Typical Jungkook. It wouldn't be him if he didn't have any snarky remarks.

"Not yet, bunny," you remark back, satisfied smirk curving on your lips when Jungkook scrunches his nose at the nickname. "I hope there won't be any reasons for that."

Jungkook opens his mouth, probably saying another smart remark back but he's quickly cut off by fuming Taehyung whose feet thump against the hard floor.

"Jimin is so freaking annoying," Taehyung complains as soon as he walks over to you, pouting like a little kid as you snort. "Can you believe that? I specifically told Jimin I want the bed near the window and what did he do?"

You open your mouth, barely taking a breath before Taehyung is already opening yours, not waiting for your answer. You hear Jungkook holding back a laugh as he amusingly stares at Taehyung.

"He said he wants that bed too!"

"Tae," you bite back a laugh, "How old are the two of you exactly?"

"That's not the point!" he exclaims, making you put your hands in surrender.

"How did you guys solve it?"

"We played rock, paper, scissors of course."

Of course, they did. They do it all the time. There's not a day when you don't see them playing that kids game to make this fair. To be completely honest, it's what everyone does when you hang out and can't decide on things. However, Taehyung and Jimin are a completely different story when it comes to bickering. They're acting like a married couple that's been married for forty years or two siblings that just have to bicker every five minutes. There's no between, honestly.

Snorting, Jungkook looks at Taehyung's scowl. "I get it that you lost?"

"I did." he grumbles.

You're almost certain by the end of the night, Jimin will leave the bed for Taehyung just because he cares about him. And Taehyung would do the same thing.

Taehyung's goofiness is nothing new to you or Jungkook, or to anyone who knows him well enough to know that's a significant part of him. But there are different stages when he gets like this and when he lets out annoyed huff, aimed at no one else than Jimin, you can smell the sudden whisk of alcohol coming off his breath.

"Taehyung-ah, are you perhaps drunk?"

Jungkook arches a brow at Taehyung, staring at his and your friend questionably as Taehyung cutely widens his eyes as if he's been caught by his parents. He goofily grins, just proving your assumptions to be right.

"I'm not drunk," He doesn't look drunk, that's right. But without a doubt-- "I may have drank two or three shots. But don't look at me like that, you two! It's your fault!" he accuses, whipping his fingers at the two of you as you both stare at him with big eyes.

"Our fault? How is that our fault?" Jungkook exclaims, scrunching his face in a frown at the accusation as you already rub your forehead, staring low at your feet.

"I know." Taehyung whispers, leaning towards Jungkook who just pulls away and flicks him in the forehead at the obvious smell of tequila coming from him.

"You know what?" Jungkook whispers back, clueless as he glances at you, seeing you acting as if you're not there in the first place. "What is he talking about?"

"Jungkookie, I must say," Taehyung says, patting Jungkook's shoulder. "I'm disappointed."

"Wha--"

"Oh god, he knows about us." you exclaim, no longer standing Taehyung's talking and walking around the topic.

There's a high chance Haneul will walk out of those doors any second, he definitely doesn't need to hear any of this. Thank god, Taehyung is at least quiet and not loud as usual. Luckily, Jungkook doesn't need any more explanation because he understands you right away, brows shooting up in understatement.

"Ah," Jungkook lets out, "What's so disappointing about that?"

"Don't even ask," you interrupt Taehyung as soon as you notice him opening his mouth. He already said enough. "You," you point at Taehyung who just grins amusingly. "Don't blame it on us. We all know you wanted to taste that tequila you bought at the gas station."

Taehyung frowns before he grins all over again, shrugging innocently. That's right. He thought he's being sleek with the huge bag that was supposed to be 'full of snacks' as he said when Jimin questioned him. However, the clinking sound is what gave him away as he stepped into the car.

Although, Jungkook looks a little clueless about the whole tequila thing, only because he drove in his own car and not with you. Nevertheless, he seems to get the point as you notice the corner of his lips quirk up in an amused smirk when Taehyung doesn't even hide it anymore.

"Where is your room?" you ask Jungkook, changing the topic to not make it seem as if you're making an alcoholic out of Taehyung. He's not. He just loves to have fun and taste alcohol whenever there's a party going on. He might've started a little bit earlier to your taste but it's Taehyung. You can't be surprised at this point.

"There," Jungkook points towards the direction of his room, which undoubtedly he is sharing with Kiko.

Just as you look in the direction he's pointing at, luckily their room is on the opposite side and one room away from yours to be completely opposite, the door opens and Kiko comes out of it. She looks around for a second, noticing Jungkook straight away and with that you and Taehyung too. You swear you see her tense a little bit before she puts up a small smile and makes her way towards you.

Jungkook quickly turns around to you, specifically looking into your eyes as he points his finger at you. "Behave," he warns you, turning around to Taehyung before you can get a single reaction out of you.

"And you too." he tells Taehyung, causing his own mouth to open in a silent surprise as you snort under your breath.

"I'm not doing anything." you reply to him, scoffing a little bit but you put a little smile once he looks back at you, brows scrunched while his dark eyes remain on you sternly.

"I'm serious." he manages to get through his teeth, giving you a last warning before the door opens from your room and Haneul comes out, a little surprised by the amount of people standing in front of it.

"Oh," he lets out surprisingly, eyes looking for you. He finds you in a second, giving you a little smile but you notice something weird in his eyes as you get closer to him.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you place your hand over his forearm gently, head tilted back to have a proper look at him.

In the distance, you can make out Kiko's voice. "Hey Taehyung." she says gently, a little bit more braver than when she was greeting you.

"Hi." he greets her back casually.

You turn your attention back to Haneul who rubs his face a bit as he lets out a sigh. "It was just my mom. Apparently my grandma doesn't feel too good. She's been sick for a while." he explains, your features twisting in a worry and apologetic look.

"I'm sorry. You wanna go home?" you ask him gently, voice quiet and tender as you hear the rest of your friends (and Kiko) talk about something which you don't pay attention to.

"Ah, no. Mom said she'll keep me updated. There's nothing I can do anyway. My parents are going to hers to look after her."

It's definitely not good getting this kind of news, especially when he's here to relax from all the stress from college and have fun. It's saddening and you just hope whatever has been going on with his grandmother will pass and nothing bad will happen.

Nodding, you don't say anything else although there's a need inside you, wanting to assure him that if he has any doubts about being here you could just go back with him. But you decide not to say anything, it'd just make it look as if you don't want him here and there's not a place to talk about this some more.

Especially not when Haneul obviously wants to change the topic, turning his attention to your friends as he makes out with a new person.

"Hey, I don't think we've seen each other." he says kindly, taking a closer step to them as his eyes look at Kiko.

You watch her lip balm lips turn into a welcoming and sweet smile, something you want to roll your eyes at even though you're not sure why. Have you really grown so opposed to her?

"Hi, yes, I don't think we've met." she tells him, already stretching her thin arm towards him as you watch your boyfriend take it with a polite smile.

"I'm Haneul."

"Kiko, Jungkook's girlfriend." Oh, god. Can you roll your eyes now?

Clearing your throat, you snake your fingers around Haneul's wrist and pull him to you a little. "Seokjin called us, I think we should go." you speak, clenching your teeth while your eyes look at Haneul as he nods and lets you tug him a bit, not noticing the sudden shift in your behavior.

Little do you fail to notice the way Jungkook gives Kiko an apologetic smile, gently taking her hand.

"She'll come around." he tells her quietly, looking in front of him to watch your back, hand grasping Haneul as if somebody would snatch him from you.

Yeah, you'll come around. Right? At least he hopes so. He doesn't know how many more pep-talks he can give you.

"Friends, family... welcome!" Seokjin calls out happily, looking at everyone. As soon as you've made it downstairs, everyone has gotten comfy on two huge couches and chairs while Seokjin has stood up on the little step to make himself higher.

The closest to him, in one of the chairs, is sitting what you believe is his wife. You remember her from their wedding, she appears to look more soft and natural, minus the wedding dress and make up she had on. Even then, she was very beautiful and without doubt just right for Seokjin. You're not blind. He's handsome and wouldn't go for someone ugly for sure. Who knows, maybe he's not that type to care about the looks of others. And she's also Kiko's best friend which makes you feel a little uneasy, even though she looks kind and sympathetic.

"Some of you've been here before but to those who haven't, or have it doesn't really matter," A round of chuckles resounds in the huge open room and even you and Haneul let out one at Seokjin's awkward posture. Even from this distance you can tell the tip of his ears are turning red.

"Hyung, cut it short. Your ears are red." Taehyung calls out, cackling when Seokjin chuckles awkwardly but sends a glare at Taehyung who has managed to erupt another round of laughter from everyone.

"Anyways, I wanted to say welcome regardless if you've been here before or not. Make yourself home, there are many more rooms you can use..."

Seokjin's words somehow blend as you look beside you, Jungkook's arm pressed against you as more people are squeezed on this couch. It's hard to focus on Seokjin's words and him explaining important information about the cabin when there's Jungkook, whispering something into Kiko's ears which makes her giggle. You tap your fingers against your knee, pursing your lips a little to mute their annoying whispers but it's hard to do. Jungkook chuckles at something and presses a kiss to her cheek, at least it looks like he did from where you're sitting.

That's it.

"Can you guys shut up? I don't hear him." you scold, eyes boring to Jungkook even before he turns around to look at you.

You see him glare at you, clenching his jaw a little at your obvious jab as you give him a sweet smile before you cuddle to Haneul. However, your boyfriend is too interested in what Seokjin is saying that your interaction with Jungkook goes completely unnoticed. He does pull you closer to him, sneaking his arm around your shoulders as you make yourself comfortable.

Seokjin talks for a few minutes, mainly warning everyone not to break any of the vases that apparently his mother adores. It's funny how an almost thirty year old man looks a little scared at the mention of a possible accident of one of the vases breaking. The whole conversation is comfortable and even funny, chuckles and laughter resounding every few seconds.

"...oh, there is no staff around to clean this place while we're here, so please everyone... just clean after yourselves and don't make too much of a mess. Or if you do, just clean it."

Of course, they usually have staff around to clean this place and keep it nice and neat.

"Okay, so I bought some stuff before coming here but I'll need someone to go grocery shopping. Someone should also stay over with me to prepare the wood and fire outside. We should prepare the food for grilling, so I need someone in the kitchen with me too."

Hoseok offers to stay, along with Namjoon as Seokjin's wife is staying in the kitchen with her husband. You see Seokjin talking to Hoseok, most likely talking to him about all the tasks as Hoseok nods along. You stand up, along with everyone as you look around before you see Namjoon making his way towards you.

Your lips automatically stretch to a huge smile. "Namjoon, hi!" you exclaim happily.

God, was he always this tall? He looks just like you remember him on the camping trip. The only difference is his choice of clothing, perfectly matching the weather. He's wearing washed out jeans with mustard colored sweater while his hair stays brushed up. Now that you see him, it got longer.

"Here's my hiking partner!" he calls out cheekily, grinning with his dimple popping as you laugh. You do remember complaining, he's obviously hinting at that. But you weren't that bad, were you? "Hi."

"How are you? It's so nice to see you again," you tell him, still smiling as Namjoon fills you with how he's been, which doesn't really involve that much just that same old stuff. He asks you the same thing and you technically say the same thing back, there's nothing much to tell him. He's not your close friend but it's always nice to talk to him.

"Oh, this is Haneul. My boyfriend." you introduce Haneul, who's been politely smiling the whole time the two of you have been talking.

"Oh," You notice his brows shoot up for a moment, eyes looking behind you. You look back, noticing Jungkook who's in the middle of conversation with Kiko and Seokjin's wife whose name you still don't remember.

"So I heard," Namjoon shakes himself out of the surprise, even though he looks like he heard the news about you and Jungkook breaking up. Still, a grin stretches onto his lips as he outstretches an arm to your boyfriend. "It's nice to meet you, man."

He probably finds it weird to see everyone here; you, Jungkook, Kiko and now your current boyfriend. But just like on the camping trip, he doesn't ask questions and keeps himself out of it. You watch them greet each other, manly just like guys like to do it with the whole 'bro hug'.

"So, did your girlfriend finally make it?" you ask, remembering you've seen him with a girl when you arrived.

An automatic smile makes its way on his lips. "Ah, yeah! Sweetheart, come here! Let me introduce you." he calls out.

It takes a few seconds to fully see who he called over, until a gorgeous girl smiles at him and walks over to you. She's gorgeous. Her dark skin is what captivates you the most, it looks like there's not a single flaw on her skin as it's glowing underneath the lightning of Seokjin's expensive lights. Her dark and curly hair looks soft, touching her shoulders delicately as she flashes you with white and perfect teeth.

And he thought you're a model when he asked you about your job.

"This is Maya, my girlfriend. Sweetheart, this is Y/N. I don't know if you remember but I told you about her when I went on the camping trip."

Maya looks at you, a warm smile spreading on her plump lips. "Ah, the camping trip that I didn't go to," she jokes, causing Namjoon to chuckle as he gives her a kiss into her hair. "I wish I could go, I heard all the funny stories from there. I'm Maya, nice to meet you!"

You chuckle, taking her hand and shaking it in a polite greeting. "It's so nice finally meeting you! I'm glad you could make it this time." you tell him, smiling at her.

You're not sure if you, or Jungkook, would define the camping trip as a completely fun one. Sure, there were fun times that you experienced but overall, the end of it just made an impact on you both. Specifically on Jungkook, considering he had a second heartbreak in the spare of a few months. Everyone else seemed to have fun that time. Well, apart from Kiko as well who seemed to be just as sad about everything and Hoseok who had her back the whole time.

You introduce Haneul to her before the atmosphere lifts up to a casual conversation of Maya describing her excitement to be here, and finally spend some time with Namjoon's friends too.

"Sorry to interrupt," A manly voice suddenly joins the little circle you've made, Seokjin stopping just right beside you as he looks at you and Haneul. "You two are going shopping for some groceries. Is that fine?"

Everyone probably has their own task to do and it seems like you and Haneul were the only ones without one.

"Sure, but we don't have a car and I don't know a way around here." you admit.

Sure, someone could lend you a car but it still doesn't change the fact you don't know it around here. It's your first time here and even though you could easily use navigation, you'd rather not. You don't feel confident enough to be driving around on unknown roads and streets. And there's a lot of snow on the roads anyway.

"Ah, Jungkook is going too. You're going with his car and he's driving. I just need more people to pick and buy groceries. There's a huge list of things that everyone seems to desperately want and need right now," he rolls his eyes a little at that, not hiding his annoyance but you can see he's joking, judging by the way he laughs. "It's a lot. But if the four of you go, it'll be quicker and there's a lot of things to buy anyway."

Four?

You look behind Seokjin, finding Jungkook standing just a few meters away from you with no other than Kiko standing beside him. She clings to his arm, kissing him on the cheek as they both have somewhat intimate conversation.

Great. Just great.

Not wanting to show your annoyance, or cause any drama, a tight smile makes its way on your lips as you glance at Namjoon. Somehow, he seems to be the only one that's catching on the awkward situation and offers you a crooked smile. Maybe even Seokjin knows how awkward the drive will be, but something tells you he could care less about whatever drama or situation you've going on.

They don't know about your unwelcoming feelings towards Kiko. All they see are two exes driving together with their current partners which naturally makes things awkward.

Mustering the last pieces of confidence, you offer everyone a smile as you and Haneul bid your goodbyes. Haneul is completely clueless to the inner battle you're having, joining you while being his happy self.

Even Jungkook can tell as soon as he glances at you approaching, the little annoyance hidden behind your eyes. Straightening himself, his brows almost shoot up apologetically. It is what it is.

"Are we going?" you ask casually, ignoring Kiko's eyes on you.

"Yeah, sure, let's go. Seokjin already gave me the list." Jungkook says, leading everyone outside as you make your way down to his car.

The way down there is quiet, everyone just simply making it down the hill without falling or stumbling on the snow. You and Haneul take the seats in the back, Jungkook obviously taking the driver's seat as Kiko takes the passenger one.

Is it weird to see her sitting there when it has always been you who used to occupy that seat? It's weird to be sitting in the same car with her. So much for trying to avoid that when you were coming here. Universe must be hating you for allowing this to happen.

Jungkook's playlist starts playing as soon as he turns on the engine, his car roaring to life as Haneul starts sharing his excitement about the car and riding in it. Being a college student that pays for his part of the rent could possibly dream about affording such a car. Jungkook happily answers his questions, his tone remaining casual and even a little cocky.

Jungkook has never been that type to brag about things he can afford or own, he's not doing that right now either. But he seems to be somehow proud to tell all the information about the engine and car model itself. The car takes your breath every time, so there's no doubt it takes Haneul's breath too.

"...it has plenty of cargo space, so it's really spacious." Jungkook says, his voice slowly coming back to your ears as you stare from the window.

"That's amazing!" Haneul lets out excitedly, like a little boy. It's truly cute to see him being so excited about a car, it makes you smile.

"I heard you're still in college. What's your major?"

Yeah, and your smile is gone.

You know you're just being bitter. She's trying to make a conversation, but you'd be rather if she would just keep her mouth shut and stop being this nice and welcoming person. You're bitter, you know that.

However, Haneul seems to be more than happy to answer and make a conversation with her which annoys you even more. He's the one that sits right behind her, even leaning closer to her seat as he answers her.

"Real estate. I wasn't sure what to pick, my mom said picking something amongst business is for the best, so I..."

You can feel eyes on you, staring into the rear mirror just to see Jungkook's eyes already set upon you for a second before they go back to watching the road. Even just that second made you stop breathing for a moment, not sure what to make it out of his dark eyes. It's not like he was warning you, but simply checking your reaction which made you just squirm on your spot. Sighing, you look away and spend the next ten minutes listening to your boyfriend having a friendly conversation with Kiko.

No one questions your silence and the lack of interest in their conversation.

"...meat, ginger, more rice and water bottles. Okay, we have all of this," Jungkook speaks thoughtfully, lips slightly pursed in thought as he reads Seokjin's list of groceries.

He said he bought something on the way to the cabin but god, he wrote every single possible thing to that list. Your cart is almost full and since there's a good amount of everything since there are eleven of you, so you've to make sure there is enough food for everyone.

"Oh, we need potatoes, tomato sauce, gochujang and those shrimp flavored snacks. I think Hoseok likes them, I don't know the name."

"Ah, I know what those are. I'll grab them." Kiko offers, gently placing another kiss to Jungkook's cheek as he sheepishly grins down at her, watching her walk away.

Pushing away the urge to roll your eyes, you sigh and look at Haneul whose eyes are already on you. He gives you a smile. "I'll grab those potatoes, so we can go." he says, causing you to nod as you thank him.

It's not like you're annoyed to see Jungkook being happy. It's not that. It's just enough to be spending too much time close to Kiko, especially since she doesn't hesitate to kiss or touch Jungkook every few seconds. You've never been a fan of PDA anyway and it feels like she's just rubbing it into your face because from what you can remember, she has never been this affectionate before. You've no idea what she's trying to prove but that woman annoys you to the roots. Still, you seem to be unaffected, usually brushing off the attention she almost seeks.

Jungkook opens his mouth, eyes already staring at you as you interrupt him before one single word can make it out. "I'll find that tomato sauce and gochujang." you tell him, turning around on your heels and not waiting for any reaction from him.

You're not being petty. Someone would say you are. But honestly, you don't need any lecture he's about to give you or him trying to speak to your soul in desperate need to act like you like his girlfriend. He knows that's not the case and the more he pushes, with Kiko's desperate need of showing off her boyfriend, just pisses you even more. You were relatively fine as long as you didn't have to spend alone time with her.

Finding the aisle with sauces takes you a few moments, you take the time to walk through different types of aisles until you find it. There are various types of tomato sauce and you're quite puzzled which one to pick. There are cheaper ones but expensive ones too. Since Seokjin gave you his card, it shouldn't matter to you which product you choose, not caring about the price. Still, you don't like to waste anyone's money even if he's the one buying and obviously the one being loaded.

You decide to choose the one you usually buy for yourself. It's a proper medium when it comes to its price and you already know it tastes good, even though you don't think there could be that much difference when it comes to a tomato sauce.

Standing on your tiptoes, you do your best to reach for your chosen brand of tomato sauce. The tip of your tongue slightly peeking from your lips, your fingers lightly brush against the dark red can and you almost curse under your breath, growing annoyed at the height.

That's until you feel someone behind you, chest brushing against your back before it's almost pressed against you. You almost focus on the scent coming off the body behind you but the tattooed hand grabbing a can of tomato sauce reveals the identity of the person behind you sooner.

"Let me get it for you," Jungkook mutters raspily, grabbing one of the cans as you turn around.

You almost bump him straight into his chest, causing him to take a step back as he holds it for you.

"Here."

"Thanks," you mutter, taking it from him as you place it into the cart he pushed here. You didn't even hear him coming. "Are you stalking me now?" you joke dryly, peeking at him under your lashes causing him to snort.

"You wish, shorty," he says, patting the top of your head as you grunt at him in disapproval. "No, I just went to grab some more snacks and I saw you struggling a bit here."

"Is one can enough though? Shouldn't we get more?"

The one you were going for is a bigger version of the one you usually buy for yourself. You've no idea what Seokjin wants to cook that needs tomato sauce, but one big can probably won't be enough for eleven people. You don't have to be perfect at math to know this.

"Yeah, we probably should." Jungkook muses, reaching for one more and almost backing you to the aisle with his chest. But you don't move, nor scold him like you usually would. You stand there, feeling his body rubbing against you for two full seconds until he straightens himself but is still close to you. You've to tilt your head to be able to look at him properly.

"Do you know what personal space is?" you mutter, feeling your cheeks getting red for some reason. Oh fuck, what is happening?

"You out of all people know that I don't," he jokes cheekily, causing you to take a deep breath as you look at the aisle behind him. "Hey," he suddenly speaks up, sighing when you stubbornly stare at the pasta packages instead of him.

"Look at me woman." he groans, poking you in your cheek which annoys you even more, but at the end works because you glare at him and look at him just like he wished.

"What? You're so annoying, by the way. Do you know that?"

"Yeah I know thanks to you, you tell me that often," he grins, leaning down to put the can in his hands into the cart. "I just wanted to talk to you. I know this is not your ideal type of a trip and I can sense your annoyance from miles away. But can you please not give Kiko such a hard time? She's trying to get along with everyone."

Of course, this is what he wants to talk about.

The scoff that you give him doesn't go unnoticed by him, but you do notice the little hurt in his eyes when he's welcomed with your cold response.

"I'm not gonna talk to her like she's my friend. She isn't, Jungkook." you point out, words muttered through your clenched teeth. It's even worse when his dark eyes look straight into yours.

"You've barely said a single word since we got into the car. It's obvious to everyone there's something on your mind. I just don't want any fights." he almost pleads, brows raising in a silent plea.

"I'm just not in the mood of trying to act all friendly with her. I'm sorry, Jungkook but that's not what I promised. I haven't even said anything to her." you exclaim, growing more irritated with this conversation. Why does he always want everything to go smoothly and perfectly?

"Yeah, I know. All I'm asking is... you look like a huffy kid. That's all I'm saying." he points out, causing you to actually laugh, sarcastically of course.

"A huffy kid, really?"

"Really," he deadpans, "You don't see me acting like that towards Haneul."

Your mouth falls open for a split second before you react right away. "That's not fair Jungkook and you know that. Haneul has never hurt me like that and he's a good guy."

"Kiko is good too, I'm sorry you can't see it," you roll your eyes again, causing him to take a deep breath almost as if to calm himself down before he continues. "All I'm saying is that you wouldn't feel good as well if I was being a dick to him."

"Yeah, because you've no reason to be a dick to him." you deadpan this time, features twisted in a confusion mixed with annoyance.

"Y/N, please," he whispers, slowly reaching for the restless stray pieces of your hair that have gotten into your eyes but you're too stubborn to move it and break your cold and annoyed persona.

Your breath gets caught into your throat when you feel the tip of his fingers accidentally brush against your cheekbone, a huge red light blinking furiously in your head.

"I don't want any drama." He moves the restless strand behind your ear, retrieving his hand back as you blink at him.

God, you really want to kick him in the balls. How can he always be so soft and gentle with you? It's like he's doing it on purpose, knowing exactly how to act to tag onto strings in your heart. It makes you feel like an ass, guilty even for acting this way even though you could've been way worse. But you don't want any drama too. You're just not going to pretend--

"Kookie?"

Your head snaps to the voice coming from the right side, your eyes meeting Kiko's figure as she walks towards the two of you with hands full of the same snacks. She's looking at Jungkook first before she glances at you, her brown eyes slightly narrowing.

"Is everything okay?"

She visibly eyes the close proximity between you two, even though it's nothing dramatic because he's not that close to you. You mean... you can smell his cologne but he's at least your arm length away from you. It's not like this looks wrong but thanks to your and Jungkook's scowled features, it's quite obvious the tension in the air.

"Ah yeah, we were just talking." Jungkook says, offering her a soft smile as he goes to help her.

"I can do it, Kookie." she giggles once he takes a few bags of snacks from her and you just stand there, not really sure what to do or say.

You busy yourself by grabbing a gochujang package instead.

She glances at you when she puts the bags to the almost full cart, eyes knowingly glancing at Jungkook as if she knows you were talking about her. It makes you realize that she most likely could feel the cold shoulder you've been giving her. She's not stupid enough to not tell when someone just doesn't like being in her presence. Maybe she was the one who talked to Jungkook about you acting this way. But he probably wanted to talk to you because of his own decision and judgment, since you've been in their presence nonstop – in the car and now in the shop. There was no time and place for her to talk to him about this.

"Come on, guys. Let's find Haneul and let's go. I'm getting hungry." Jungkook tells lightly, giving you a glance as he takes the cart with Kiko right beside him, hooking her arm around his.

Nodding, you join them, noticing the way Kiko looks back at you for a moment with an unrecognizable stare before she turns around and pays attention forward.

Once you find Haneul, you go to the cashier while Jungkook pays with Seokjin's card for all the groceries. Your eyes almost bulge at the final price, noticing Haneul doing the same thing that makes you silently giggle. Thanks to Jungkook's spacious truck, regardless of packed presents for you, Taehyung and Jimin, it's easy to load all the bags there.

The drive back to the cabin is somehow more relaxed and you even join in the conversation, mostly talking to Haneul who luckily is talkative enough to make the whole ride and conversation more joinable. Jungkook's words ring in your mind regardless of you being more relaxed and talkative. Now that you're replaying your conversation, he still makes you annoyed by approaching you like that and making you feel like you're the bad guy here. But you can't help but feel slightly guilty because you're completely aware of your kind of bitchy attitude. You still could've been nicer even if you wanted to make it clear that you and her won't be friends.

As you get out of the car, everyone takes a few bags while Jungkook makes sure you and Kiko are holding the less heavy ones (he even takes seven bags just so you and Kiko are holding only two bags). Jungkook and Kiko are walking ahead of you, almost entering the cabin while Haneul is walking right beside you in silence until he decides to break it.

"Hey, what's going on with you and Jungkook's girlfriend?"

You tense for a moment, releasing a sigh. Well, now you feel even shittier since he noticed your inhospitality towards her. It's even worse because he's clueless about this whole thing.

"Why?" you mutter, an obvious act of trying to prolong the time when you actually have to explain yourself.

Whether Haneul notices or not, you don't know.

"Well... you seem to be quiet when she is around. Maybe I'm reading into this wrong, but I get the feeling you don't like her that much. Am I wrong?" he asks hesitantly and carefully, making your features soften from their tensed position.

"Ehh, you're not wrong," you tell him unsurely, seeing his soft brown eyes staring at you in a silent encouragement. Even if he doesn't tell you that, you can see that he appreciates your honesty and doesn't push you to answer if you don't want to. "I'm sorry you had to see that. I just... I don't think it's my business to talk about their relationship," And you're mainly protecting Jungkook's privacy. "But she just hurt him really badly and he got back together with her, it's been hard for me to process that because he deserves better."

You've been repeating this to everyone whenever you're explaining your inhospitality feelings towards Kiko. If you just said that she cheated, you surely wouldn't have to explain that much because it'd be quite obvious while you don't like her that much since you want to protect your best friend. Everyone knowing Jungkook knows he deserves all the love and is the most precious boyfriend she could ever have. But you won't say it out loud, people are not stupid and some of them can probably guess what happened in their relationship. Still, you're determined not to say the actual cheat word in any form.

"Really? She looks like a nice girl. I wouldn't have guessed she hurt him."

Thankfully, Haneul doesn't ask for any details that you wouldn't give him anyway.

"None of us did." you mutter.

"I think it's nice of you for having his back. You're a great friend, Y/N." he tells you, giving you a smile as you force yourself to give him one back.

"Yeah, I wish he could see that. I mean, I think he does see that and overall, he asked me to respect his decision multiple times and it's not really any of my business. But I can't help but feel... bitter and cold whenever she is around."

"I think it makes sense that you're not able to drop it. He's your friend, princess. From what I've seen, you really cherish people close to you. I don't know exactly what she did, although I think I get an idea, and I think it's important to accept and respect his decision because ultimately it's his life and relationship. But also he can't expect you to be just all nice when in your own way, you're protecting him. I do think you should let it go, though."

"I just don't want to pretend that I like her. I haven't even said anything to her. I'm just not interested in being friends with her." you exclaim a little frustratingly, stopping just in front of the entrance.

"And that's okay. Nobody can push you to do that," Haneul says, lifting his lips up in encouragement. "You're not like, secretly in love with Jungkook, right?" he asks sheepishly, but you can see the little panic in his eyes.

"What? No!" you tell him straight away, brows furrowing that he'd suspect such a thing. Just because you care about your best friend doesn't mean you're in love with him. You thought he knew that. He thought he just understood that your friendship is close and special.

"Okay, I just wanted to make sure. Sorry I asked," he says, cheeks slightly tinted red from the cold and embarrassment.

Honestly, you don't think it's something to be embarrassed about. He just wanted to make sure, just like he said. But you're naturally growing annoyed from all the assumptions about you and Jungkook. Someone would say you could've gotten used to it by now. You haven't.

"I know everything is new, our relationship and I'm still getting to know you every second, your friends too. It's interesting to see your friendship with Jungkook, I don't think I've seen friends being that close. But I trust you, I'm sorry if it looks like I don't. I just don't want to get myself involved in something that I don't know of. I really like you, Y/N." he explains, your features softening once again.

Why don't you feel like you don't deserve him? Maybe you don't. You've no idea how much understanding you'd be if you were in his position.

"I like you too." you admit. It's not like you haven't said those words to yourselves before. But it's still a nice reassurement for both of you. It's too soon to admit any deeper feelings but if your relationship will go the same way like it's been going from the start, you think it won't take long for you to admit those deeper feelings.

He leans down, a little awkwardly considering his height and the weight in his hands, but he still makes sure to meet you for a kiss.

Seokjin deserves all the success his restaurant is getting. The food he cooked, with help from his wife, tasted delicious. After you came from the groceries, a supermarket situated twenty minutes from the cabin, you went to unpack all the bags which caused the whole kitchen island to be filled with food and ingredients. Seokjin shooed away everyone who wasn't on the 'cooking team' as he called it. So you took that time to go for a walk around the cabin with Haneul.

It has cleared your mind a little and you've found and let yourself relax in his presence only. The guilt from your previous conversation with Jungkook is still there but talking about it with Haneul definitely helped. It makes you like him even more. He understands you, or at least is trying to.

Hoseok, Jungkook and Jimin cooked a soup, a typical kimchi stew meanwhile Seokjin and his wife, who just helped like he claimed at dinner, cooked his restaurant's special. He used traditional Japanese style of cooking, the same thing they do at his restaurant. There was beef, eggs, mushrooms and more vegetables that tasted amazing. You've never eaten something like that and everyone praised Seokjin, who seemed to like the attention and praise.

You've spent the rest of the evening after dinner playing board games and Taehyung's favorite UNO, sarcasm guaranteed as he spent at least ten minutes whining about the rules. You're not surprised though, you had a hard time remembering the rules yourself but at least you weren't whining about it. You actually tried to act as if you understood it, which made you lose anyways.

With a few bottles of alcohol opened, the board games are long forgotten and placed back to its place. The karaoke machine in the basement – yes they've a whole basement at least a good part of it used as a place to dance and have a party – resounds from downstairs. Taehyung's voice is loud enough to not be recognized, an amused snort leaving your mouth when his voice cracks but he carries on like it never happened in the first place.

You make your way to the kitchen, bringing a bottle of tequila like Seokjin asked you to, too busy cuddling with his wife who seems to be sleepy but determined to stay and watch the fun unfold.

Opening the fridge, you search for its bottle as you notice the brownish liquid after a few seconds. You close the fridge, gasping when you notice Jungkook leaning against the counter.

"Fuck!" you yelp, hand pressed against your chest as you hold the bottle of tequila even tighter. "Why are you creeping on me?"

Jungkook laughs, shaking his head at you as he brushes past you and opens the fridge. "Still flattering yourself as always," he muses, joking as you see his grin before he momentarily disappears behind the fridge door.

He pulls out a bottle of whiskey, shaking it a little in front of you to explain himself. "Just grabbing this."

"Uhm, uhm." you purse your lips, jokingly acting as if you don't believe his explanation as he narrows his eyes at you playfully and even rolls them at you.

"Are you having fun? I haven't talked to you since we came from the shop." he starts, voice empty from all the amusement and joking, sounding more gentle and careful.

"Yeah, I am. I guess there just hasn't been the time to talk." you tell him, watching his brows pinch together.

"What do you mean? There's always time for us to talk."

You chuckle at that, finding it somehow cute how serious he's taking this but to be fair, there hasn't been that much time to talk to him for real. You were spending the time with Haneul as you went for a walk and then dinner happened. Jungkook was seated on the opposite side from you, so he wasn't even sitting next to you. And now that everyone moved to the basement to drink and just have fun, you mostly talked to Jimin and Haneul. It wasn't intentional though. Jungkook seemed to be talking to Seokjin, Hoseok and Kiko of course. He was in that circle, well until you just bumped into each other.

"Well you were with Kiko and everyone else, and I've been with Haneul." you shrug, somehow feeling stupid for even explaining this.

"Y/N," Jungkook says softly, "I wanted you to come here so we can have fun too. Just because Kiko is here doesn't mean I can't talk or have fun with you."

You didn't know you needed to hear that after he just said it. Somehow, his words bring comfort to you and it makes you flutter at his kindness and attentiveness as always.

"Of course, I know that..." you murmur, smiling a little.

"Then let's show Taehyung how to rock at karaoke." Jungkook teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You laugh at him, shaking your head. "I'm not drunk enough!" you exclaim, but Jungkook ignores you and wraps his hand around your wrist pulling you towards the basement.

"Jungkook!" you laugh, as he keeps tugging you almost making you stumble on the stairs.

"You're always saying that excuse, you're not getting away from this. We're gonna show everyone how to do it."

"Jeon!" you laugh, holding a tight grip on the bottle. "At least let me put the bottle before I drop it."

He listens to you, doing the same thing with you but not until he pours himself a whiskey and you tequila. "To have fun and to our singing skills?" he asks, causing you to snort as you nod and go along with his toast.

Your glasses clink as they meet each other, the alcohol burning your throats as you make your way to the karaoke machine. You notice Haneul sitting on the couch giving you a surprised look to see you in front of a karaoke machine while Jungkook tries to find a song. Luckily, Taehyung's duet with Namjoon has ended as they happily hand you the mics.

Your boyfriend gives you a thumbs up when you look at him, only now noticing Kiko sitting next to him as he chats to Jia, Seokjin's wife. She's her best friend, so you're not surprised to see them having a nice conversation while giggling. Taehyung plops himself next to Haneul, offering him a tequila bottle. He accepts it, taking a few gulps straight from the bottle.

Haneul doesn't like partying with his friends too much. It's not like he doesn't like it at all, but like he told you, he prefers not partying every Friday like they tend to. He'd usually bailed on them, wanting to just relax in his rented apartment which would usually cause his friends to whine about him not going. Now, you're a perfect excuse for him not wanting to party every single weekend or free day.

But just like every guy his age, or it doesn't necessarily have to do anything with age, he likes to loosen up and there's nothing wrong with him drinking. You see him talking to Taehyung, watching them for a while until Jungkook takes one of the mics from you and grins at you.

"You ready?"

"What did you pick?"

"Jason Derulo, you know this song for sure."

You look at the name of the song. How can you not know this song? Everyone knows this song and the words to it, it brings you back to 2010 and this kind of music. As the electric guitar's sound, the intro of the song starts to play, you and Jungkook move yourselves to have more space. The sound of the new song catches everyone's attention and you hear Jimin and Taehyung cheer loudly, causing you to snort as you shake your head at your friends and their silliness.

"Jeon Jungkook!" Jungkook sings into the mic, instead of saying 'Jason Derulo' as it is in the original song. It makes you burst out laughing as he gives you a grin before he starts singing.

"Everybody's looking for loveAin't that the reason you're at this clubYou ain't gonna find a dance with him, no, noGot a better solution for you girl," Jungkook sings, passionately as he doesn't forget to play his role just right as he's looking at you, pointing at you every now and then as he sways his body to the rhythm.

One of the reasons you love karaoke, when you're drunk enough (thanks to the tequila you actually find yourself having fun and relaxing) is the fact you and Jungkook enjoy it every time. You could be singing about heartbreak, love or a song that doesn't make sense but you make it work as you play your roles just right.

"Just leave with me now, say the word and we'll go,I'll be your teacher, I'll show you the ropes,"

He moves closer to you, swaying his hips as he dances while doing so causing you to laugh at him.

"You'll see a side of love you've never known, I can see it going down, going down,"

This time, you bring the mic to your lips, Jungkook already grinning as he's singing, ready for you to join him which you do.

"In my head, I see you all over meIn my head, you fulfill my fantasyIn my head, you'll be screaming more,"

Taehyung's cheers and sometimes even screams can be heard in the distance, along with Jimin's as the two friends are your biggest fans, drunk fans. Taehyung keeps jumping up and down while sitting, the guy showing his excitement and overreacted fangirling with his entire body. Haneul chuckles at that, being the one who sits next to him as he turns around to watch you and Jungkook. He has never seen you look so free, maybe it's the fact you've had a fair share of tequila but you don't look too drunk. You're just having fun, dancing and giggling to the microphone whenever Jungkook wiggles his brows. Surprisingly to him, Jungkook sounds amazing and your voice isn't too bad as you both sing the chorus together.

"Some dudes know all the right things to sayWhen it comes down to it, it's all just gameInstead of talking let me demonstrate, yeahGet down to business and skip foreplay,"

Haneul's eyes widen at the lyrics, especially when he sees you tilt your head back as you laugh at Jungkook before you subtly bite onto your lower lip, smiling through it. He knows it's just a song and you both are having just fine, but he feels a weird pinch in his chest at the sight of you and Jungkook. He trusts you. He knows Jungkook forms a large part in your life and he's a very special friend to you. You're both close and to be fair, he's still trying to get to know you and your friendship with Jungkook.

So he looks at Jungkook's girlfriend, just out of pure curiosity to see her expression since he's still very new to your relationship but also getting to know you better, which also involves people around you which are your friends.

He finds her silently watching the two of you before she slowly sips on the wine. Okay, he barely sees any reaction from her which sucks because it doesn't do anything with his curiosity.

"Is that normal?" he asks, finding her turning her head slightly to look at him.

Kiko is pretty, very pretty actually. She's wearing a casual outfit, just some jeans and white shirt with mint colored cardigan but somehow she looks elegant in her own way. Maybe it's those dangling earrings that she's wearing and soft waves that she curled her black hair into. Somehow, Haneul deduces that they create a pretty couple with Jungkook. And he hopes it'll stay that way because your obvious close friendship to him is still a ball of wonder for him. And of course, he's just trying to understand it before he can let out any bitter emotions in the open.

Her eyebrows raise a bit at his question and he tilts his back to you and Jungkook, still singing your hearts out, pointing to the two of you. Kiko follows his vision, simply watching before she just shrugs.

He realizes he won't get any more reaction from her. Maybe he expected some explanation or her opinion about your friendship. Most of all, maybe he wanted her to say 'oh, it's totally normal, they're like this'. Keeping a cool head, he knows you're the best person to assure him of this. You explained your friendship to him, you told him you're close to Jungkook and even voiced your worry, worried that it'll affect your relationship with Haneul.

And he assured you he understands it and won't cause any problem just because your best friend is not a female. If there was a female standing next to you, he wouldn't bat an eyelash at that. No one would. That's just how it is.

But he's different. He won't be jealous just because nature tells him to be, or his own male ego.

Taehyung's loud cheers and the round of applause is what shakes him out of his thoughts, his distracted eyes focusing on you to see you smiling giving Jungkook a high-five before you make your way towards him.

An automatic smile spreads on his lips, seeing you cutely approaching him as you sit onto his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck, Haneul already leaning for a kiss which you gladly give him. He pouts when you give him a peck though, he was hoping you'd give him a proper kiss. You just giggle, kissing his cheek.

"I'd say I was your biggest fan but I think it's hard to compete with Taehyung." he teases, watching you tilt your head as you giggle looking at Taehyung who's already doing shots with Jimin.

"I can totally understand that," you muse, glancing back at your boyfriend, both of you chuckling at your friend. "Well, I need another shot of tequila from that excellent performance I just did. You want some?" you ask, arms sneaking off his neck as you brush them against his chest and you see his breath hitch for a second.

He bites into his lower lip, letting it go as he points at his filled glass. "Thanks though."

You smile, standing up as you scurry yourself to the small kitchen where alcohol has been brought. It's just a small room with a kitchen counter with no fridge or microwave. Taehyung drunkenly stands up too, shouting at Jungkook and pleading with him to go one round with him too. The younger one obviously declines Taheuyng but his older friend insists, whining like a little kid which causes Jungkook to sigh as he's already taking back the mic that he put away just a few seconds ago. Shaking head with an amused smile aimed at his friend that drunkenly tries to find the right song.

The theme song of Arirang starts to play a few seconds later, Haneul's attention interrupted for a moment by Hoseok sitting next to him. They haven't talked that much but he's been introduced to him already, so he's quite pleasantly surprised when Hoseok actually starts making a conversation with him.

He's too immersed with chatting to Hoseok, not noticing Kiko standing up too and sliding past them.

In the other room, you pour yourself a tequila shot but don't reach for it to chug it, enjoying the little quietness and muted music accompanied by Jungkook's stable and Taehyung's drunk voice before you go back. You chuckle to yourself at them, putting the tequila bottle back. At this rate, you should bring it with you but you want to avoid anyone spilling and breaking it. Everyone seems to be drunk or at least clumpy and tipsy enough to let that happen. You're sure Seokjin wouldn't appreciate it. At least none of the expensive vases have been broken.

You hear someone else coming to the room, their footsteps gentle but loud enough to be recognized. You expect to see one of the guys with the same purpose like yours to come here. However, Kiko is the last person you expect to come here. Your muscles tense underneath her brown eyes and the look she's giving you. She simply looks at you but that's not what irks you. It's the same softness of her features she always seems to sport.

It's quite obvious she hasn't come here to grab one of the bottles or snacks, or even pour herself a glass when she simply stops just at the edge of the counter and looks at you.

"Are you having fun?" she asks, lightly and friendly that it mildly surprises you.

Your brows furrow momentarily, wondering what's her intention and this conversation. She is trying to be nice and friendly to you, you can clearly see that. But it pisses you off that she knows you're not very fond of her and she just keeps trying to get on your good side. You're fine with her as long as you don't have to talk to her.

"Listen," you start, voice neutral and steady. "We don't have to pretend to be friends."

"We could be." she says right away, almost too quickly but yet, her voice sounds light and offering.

It actually makes you want to snort at that idea. You're that kind of person that wants to be left alone by the person you find irritating in any way. Most importantly, she knows that you're not interested in pretending to be friends with her. You respect her being with Jungkook and you knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to come here, with the knowledge of her being here as well. You're not looking for any fights with her and you're not planning to say anything bitchy to her, because you're not planning to suddenly start a conversation with her in the first place. But that doesn't mean you're interested in any kind of pretending just because she can't clearly leave you alone. Ah, it irritates you how good she's trying to be. It actually makes you feel kind of bad for your own thoughts and feelings but you can't help it.

"Are you kidding?" you ask nonchalantly, scoffing slightly as you see embarrassment crossing over her features as she hugs her cardigan closer to her.

She looks at her feet for a second before she braces herself to look at you again. "It'd be best for Jungkook's sake."

Her words actually make you snicker under your breath, no amusement on your face as you look deadly in her eyes. "So you suddenly care about Jungkook's sake? You should've thought about that sooner." you point out, voice empty just like your features.

Again, you watch embarrassment crawling back to her face as she clears her throat.

You're not usually the person who confronts other people. You wouldn't tell her anything if she didn't come up to you and brought this topic first. But now that she actually has the audacity to bring Jungkook's sake, something she hasn't thought about when she went to the same bed with another man, just sparks a new wave of anger and annoyance in you.

Just the obvious look on her face and her silence is saying she probably can't disagree with you because you're right. She knows that. You can see the guilt written all over her face and for a second, you actually feel slightly bad for how small she suddenly looks underneath your gaze. Just like you said, you don't like confronting people and arguing but sometimes it's inevitable and sometimes it comes naturally. But you're also someone who has their friend's back no matter what and let's be honest, you like to voice out your opinion, especially when it's an opportunity for it.

And you weren't raised like this. Maybe it's the alcohol flowing in your blood, even though you know you're not drunk. But you can feel the ease of your muscles and mind. That's enough of a clue for you to know that your mouth is much more free than usual. And most of the things that have been sitting stubbornly in your mind are set free, the words spilling out of your mouth with no limits.

"I'm already trying my best for Jungkook's sake, so let's not push it. I'm not going to act like we're friends because we're not," you inform her, crossing your arms over your chest as she stares at you like you just kicked her in the face. "Listen, I'm not going to send daggers your way but I'm not going to pretend I like you."

Her features twist in hurt but you're not sure if she's trying to hold back herself. You feel bad for saying those things but they're true. They might be hurtful but at least they're honest and you're not pretending to be someone you're not.

So you take your shot, brushing past her as you leave her standing there with her pounding thoughts.

Your mind doesn't feel at ease after that. You feel bad nevertheless of your words being honest. And you know if Jungkook saw your interaction and heard you, he'd be disappointed and hurt. Just like that, you feel annoyed once again because no. You weren't the one coming up to her and you didn't do anything to her. She is the one who came up to you, using Jungkook's sake as an excuse for her shitty behavior and the hurt she caused Jungkook.

Plopping next to Haneul, you find him in the middle of conversation with Hoseok, which is quite surprising because you wouldn't think they've that much in common. Haneul glances at you, welcoming you by putting his arm around your frame as he pulls you closer, offering you a smile as he nods to whatever Hoseok has been telling him. You give him a smile back, mustering the best out of you and he luckily doesn't notice how dishonest it is.

Moments later and you see Kiko, Jungkook's eyes finding her almost immediately while he's chatting with Namjoon and Seokjin. You watch his face light up as she approaches them. Even from them being meters away from where you're sitting, you can clearly see his brows furrow slightly as he scans her features. You watch his mouth moving, asking her something as she shakes her head and tells him something. The conversation seems kind of intimate as Jungkook makes sure to lean towards her, so they can have some privacy.

He evidently voices out his worry while Namjoon and Seokjin seem to get the clue, the two of them fooling around chuckling and talking. Kiko just shakes her head, her hand squeezing Jungkook's biceps as she gives him a kiss to his cheek. Turning around, she leaves him standing there with a confusion written on his face as he watches her girlfriend make her way upstairs.

He seems a little baffled, lips slightly pouting before he looks up. Almost immediately, his eyes find yours and it's like he can see right through you.

And then his brows furrow again, his dark eyes boring into yours even from across the room.

Shit.

#networkbangtan #ficswithluv #ksmutclub #btswritingcafe #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #mutual help #personasintro

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auteurdelabre · 1 month

Text

A Little Sun part 6 Dieter!Bravo x f!Reader

rating: 18+ words: 8.4k pairings: Dieter x f!Reader

tags: pregnancy, details of body changing with pregnancy, insecurity, mention of family death, mutual pining, idiots in love, soft dieter, fluff, lurve, angst, miscommunication trope, female masturbation, male masturbation, dirty talk (thoughts). summary: You move in with Dieter after the fight with your mom and things get... complicated. a/n: Y'all this thing has turned into such a fuckin' beast. Remember when I wanted it to be a one shot? Anyway, we're nearing the end with these two idiots in love but I think this one ends pretty damn sweet.

Also I think I'm in love with Dieter Bravo?

SERIES MASTERLIST

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, ENGAGEMENT ARE WHAT KEEP US FIC WRITERS GOING. PLEASE REMEMBER THAT IF YOU ENJOYED THIS.

Dieter doesn't even let you step fully into his home before he's got you in his arms, wrapping you in his warm embrace. Your suitcases clatter to the floor as you cling to him, burying your face in his neck and fighting back tears.

"You can stay as long as you want," Dieter promises you as one hand cups the back of your head. "Stay forever."

You give a watery chuckle into his shoulder, not quite ready to let go of him. You only break apart when the smell of European cigarettes wafts into the room.

You swipe at your damp eyes while Dieter turns to greet the tiny woman with a shock of white curls. She wears an oversized green t-shirt and loose khaki pants. She shuffles from place to place in her oversized moccasins.

"You remember Magda, right?"

"I think we've met a few times," you say extending your hand. The old woman gives you a look before shuffling over and placing her hand on your belly. You're in too much shock to pull back.

"A healthy boy," she tells you through a thick Eastern European accent. You and Dieter exchange looks of surprise.

"Uh yeah," you peer down at her shriveled frame, "How did you know that it was a boy?"

"I can tell."

She says it with a sage nod and then with that revelation she shuffles off to the kitchen, the feather duster still firmly lodged under her bony arm.

"She's the best," Dieter says says fondly before turning back to you with a look of expectancy. "Lemme show you where you're staying."

He takes both of your suitcase handles and jerks head to the left indicating you should follow.

You follow him out into his garden beside the pool. A place that you've never really visited much before. Most of your business has been conducted inside in his kitchen or in his office. You've heard about his guest house, how he had so many decorators come in over the years.

When you enter into it now, you're surprised at just how normal it seems. You were waiting for whips and chains and other strange memorabilia to line the walls. But instead it looks like something out of a Martha Stewart magazine. Crisp White's and Blue wainscotting. Overstuffed chairs and couches surround the coffee table from the photo he sent you. It's strangely tasteful.

It doesn't suit him at all.

Dieter must notice your surprise because he smirks before he rolls your suitcases towards the kitchen bar.

"Remember that Danish woman I dated for a couple months right after you started working for me?"

"Yeah, Lyda something.'

"Right. She wanted to start a career as an interior designer. I let her run the show in this place. Not really my taste."

"Not really mine either," You admit looking around the space. "It is beautifully done but I prefer the place we stayed in Ireland, like, that aesthetic. Old wood and big windows."

"I like that too," Dieter agrees. He sees you yawn and immediately feels guilty for keeping You up after such an emotional day.

"I'm going to have Petra whip you up something for dinner."

Petra is Dieter's chef who stocks his fridge with high end

"Dieter you don't-"

"You gotta take care of you and little Bravo remember?"

Dieter feels something in his chest bloom when instead of rolling your eyes you smile at him, nodding.

"Thanks Dieter."

You wake up the next morning in the plush duvet with your arms stretched above your head before rolling an absent hand down your swollen belly.

"Morning little boy," you whisper to the tiny being there beneath your fingertips. You give a groan as you gently roll yourself off the bed sliding into your slippers and pulling on your robe. Despite your devastation of what happened with your mother, waking up in this beautiful space on this gorgeously sunny day has you feeling hopeful.

This feeling is dampened slightly when you glance at your phone, looking to the calendar and seeing a date in the coming week starred. A date you have been dreading for months. Your birthday. The first one of yours since your father passed. Without your mom around this seems especially painful to consider. You close your phone, not wanting to think about it.

You spot a tall figure out the window and feel your cheeks flush. Something has shifted since Ireland. Something that terrifies you. The whisper of feelings that you're having a hard time repressing when you think of how he supports you.

But you push it from your mind. Your worlds don't match up. You’re serious, you take life seriously, you want to dedicate yourself to science. Dieter wants to fuck and party and grab life by the balls.

Plus he's with Mia and she makes him happy.

Dieter saunters across the backyard, narrowly missing the pool as he heads to the guest house. He's wearing an old t-shirt and sweatpants under tattered robe, his eyes hidden behind his sunshades. He's carrying a tumbler of whiskey in one hand and a smoothie in the other.

"Dieter it’s ten in the morning," you say as you open the sliding door to greet him.

"I'm still on Ireland time," he says giving you a waggle of his brows before setting the pale

pink smoothie down on the kitchen counter. "Breakfast when you're ready for it."

He sees you eyeing the smoothie warily and gives a deep rumbling chuckle.

"Petra made this one so you're safe. You like strawberries right?"

You take a tentative sip, before giving a soft moan of approval and drinking down the rest.

He rocks back on his heels a moment and despite the dark of his glasses, you can feel his gaze lingering on you.

"So... What're you up to today, Bravo?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"I'm officially no longer part of team Bravo remember?" You remind him with a sad chuckle as you place the empty glass back on the counter. "Diane cut my access to work emails and calendars."

"Shit that's right, I forgot." He looks at you with such a guilty expression. "I'm sorry."

"S'okay. I'm looking at this like a real non working vacation," you tell him honestly pointing out the window. "I figure you have a pool, there's a chef, a housekeeper, I brought books, what more could I ask for?"

"Plus you have a recreation staff," Dieter grins, taking you by the hand and twirling you gently towards him. "Dance lessons by the pool, movie nights, anything the customer wants."

"Hmmm an end to global warming?"

"Sorry that's only with the premium package."

You let out a loud laugh as Dieter joins you, spinning you into a hug. His mouth is only inches from yours and when the two of you realize this your mutual laughter ebbs.

Dieter wants nothing more than to press his mouth to yours, to taste you, to fuck you here in his home. But he knows it's not what you want. You don't want that from Dieter. You want somewhere safe to stay and he'll provide that to you.

Besides there is someone who does want his affection, his touch: Mia.

You swallow, your body poised and mouth slowly tilting towards Dieter before he seems to realize himself. He slowly extricates his arms from around you before reaching into his robe pocket, clearing his throat.

"Here's the key," Dieter tells you, holding it out to you. You take it, looking at the tiny Jameson keychain on it. The one that matches the one Dieter got you in Ireland that you wear on your own keychain. You smile at the sight of it before looking puzzled.

"A key?"

"For the guest house."

"I don't need to lock it," you chide even as you take it from him and toss it into your purse. "It's just you and me here right?"

"Yeah," Dieter hides the broad of his grin behind his whiskey glass. "Just you and me."

For the next several days Dieter tries to give you as much space as possible. He brings you a smoothie every morning citing that Magda is too busy. In the evenings he texts you to invite you over to the big house for dinner. Sometimes you join him, sometimes you’re just too tired.

You always go back to the guest house feeling a little bit down. You didn’t realize you missed sleeping in the same house, how Ireland made it almost feel like living together. Dieter’s place is so large it’s like you’re in separate neighborhoods.

Dinners are starting to be hard as well. Knowing you’ll be leaving to go back to the empty guest room. It’s a luxury, that’s for certain with its tall ceilings and plush bed. But it feels quiet without Dieter’s music or loud laughter.

And so you can admit to yourself that every morning he comes by with the pink smoothie and a big grin, your heart leaps a little bit. Like now, seeing him rushing over more frenzied than usual. He smiles, pushing the drink into your hand hurriedly.

“Here. Drink fast, I finished the nursery and want you to come look.”

“When did you have time to do the nursery?” You ask amazed as you follow him to the main house, smoothie almost drained by the time you reach his place.

“I’ve been in touch with this guy Diora from Albania over email since Ireland. He’s all the rage, super hard to get but he was really excited about trying his hand at a nursery. He just finished Criss Angel’s man cave and James Franco’s bedroom.”

Dieter sweeps a hand to the middle of your back, guiding you down the hall. When he opens the door with a flourish it takes everything in you not to gasp in horror. Your hand still rises to your mouth, though when you step into the room.

It looks like a sex dungeon.

Black and white striped walls, a beautifully ornate crib painted a ghastly red.

"Contrasting colors are good for baby’s retinas," Dieter says confidently. "I read it somewhere."

It takes you a few moments of staring at everything before you can speak.

"You have whips hung on the walls."

"Those are vintage skipping ropes," Dieter tells you aghast at your misunderstanding. You turn slowly, taking everything in. Finally you shake your head slowly.

"Dieter, this is totally inappropriate for a nursery," you say. "What baby would be happy here?"

Dieter takes a moment to glance around the space, his previous elation dimming with every word from you.

"This is what Diora suggested. He's the hottest designer right now."

"Of millionaire bachelor pads," you say as you look at a particularly ugly piece of metal hanging from the ceiling. "Not for a baby’s room."

"I'm not gonna have some tacky nursery with stuffed bears and shit,” Dieter defends. “I can't do it. Anyone who comes over and sees that'll think I've lost my edge."

The thought of being a father is immensely appealing to Dieter. The thought of being a loser Dad is not.

“Mia said it was cool,” Dieter shoots out. “I sent her photos.”

Mia is also in her early twenties, you want to snap. But you hold your tongue, trying to see the upsides to this nursery. Unfortunately you can see none. Everything is a safety hazard.

Dieter paces around the room, suddenly sour at the whole thing. He thought you’d be excited to see where the baby will be. Instead you’ve come in with your judgments and frowning face.

"Please let me... Dieter let me help you with this," you almost beg. "I just.... I know he's not mine but I can't stand the thought of him being in this... Baby prison."

I know he's not mine.

This hurts Dieter to hear it. He knows that you face no interest in being in this baby's life or his the week after you've given birth. But he can admit he's fooled himself with you being here.

But this? This is a project the two of you can work on. A potential to have more reason to have you in the house, not in that fucking guest house. He can only think of so many reasons to knock on your door apart from smoothies.

"Okay, sure."

“Okay,” you say looking relieved. “How about a pale blue or green? Then we can get a nice crib and some rugs and gauzy curtains.”

“That’s so boring.”

“And safe,” you emphasize. “You have to think of his safety, Dieter.”

Dieter pouts slightly in thought, trying to see the nursery through your eyes. He has to concede that perhaps this is a bit much for a newborn.

"Actually, you know what would look really beautiful on this far wall here?" You muse, looking at the space. "That painting you bought me for my birthday."

You think of the artwork hanging in your bedroom. The one of the woman looking out over the ocean, her hair whipping in the sea air. It’s the one thing you didn’t bring from home that you regret. There was something about that painting that made you feel relaxed.

"I didn't buy you that," Dieter says with a furrowed brow.

Your stomach sinks at this admission from Dieter and you wish you could take back everything. The intimacy of the moment, the vulnerability. He never even fucking bought the thing himself. Diane probably did and here you are pouring your heart out about it.

"Oh, uh-Or Diane or whoever-"

"I painted it for you."

All the animosity that had been brewing behind your sternum drains from you. A smile blooms immediately, your body tingling as you roll onto your side to fully face him.

"You did?"

"Yeah," Dieter is smirking at you from the shadows. "I love painting. You think I'd buy you a fucking painting?"

“I think I just assumed that you got Diane or whoever to ship it to me."

"Maybe if you were someone else," Dieter muses, his gaze wandering around the nursery. "Someone who doesn't do everything for me." He falls silent a moment. "You really thought I bought it?"

"Yeah."

"Didn't you think it was weird that the girl in the painting was you?"

Now you're stunned and it must show on your face because Dieter is chuckling softly now.

"You've had it hanging up your room for how long? Did you even look at it?"

"Of course I did, I do," you say in a rush, feeling embarrassed. You look at it every night you’re in your bedroom. "I just ... I never thought..."

"What?"

"I never thought you saw me."

Dieter blinks back at you, his dark eyes searching your face.

"I just mean you never even said thank you before this whole baby thing," you explain. "I've worked for you for a while and you kinda just expected I'd be at your beck and call all hours of the day and night, even on my days off."

"I'm sorry," Dieter whispers. "That was shitty of me."

"Why do you do it?

“I went through so many assistants I just assumed you wouldn’t be sticking around long.” Dieter looks ashamed as he says it out loud. “But then the longer you stayed the more I depended on you. I think… After a while I think it just felt weird to not message you.”

You both lapse into a thoughtful silence.

“You’ll manage just fine without me when I leave,” you tell him, needing him to know. “And if you’re ever feeling really lost and like you just need to talk to someone, you can always call me. Not as an employee, but as a friend.”

“Really? We’re friends?”

“Yeah,” you nod, heart hammering. “Friends.”

Dieter wakes up hard every morning for the next two weeks. He doesn't try to; he actively tries to think of other things before he goes to sleep. He watches documentaries, he reads art books, he meditates. He tries to push you from his thoughts so he can wake up normal.

But he always wakes up aching with the head of his cock weeping, flickering remnants of his dreams still floating around his subconscious. And those dreams are always of you.

Today he wakes up with the memory of his dream still lingering. You on your knees, his cock in your mouth and your eyes heavy lidded. As he shifts in bed Dieter realizes his boxers are sticky with previous release. A fucking nocturnal emission? How old is he?

And what's worse is that he's still fucking hard. Throbbing, actually He groans low in his throat and tries to ignore it.

You're here at his home. You're practically living with him. You're only a few steps from his back door. You're so close and yet so frustratingly far from him. He misses being in the same home as you, like the rental in Ireland. He misses the feeling of coming home after a long day on set and seeing your sweet face on the couch.

He wants that again.

Dieter rolls onto his belly to try and squash his current erection against the mattress. But that doesn't help, it just gives a delicious friction. He shifts again experimentally, groaning at the shiver that travels from the base of his spine to the tip. In his sleepy arousal he imagines that it's not the mattress but you that he's fucking.

"You like that?" Dieter murmurs, eyes closed as he rocks against his bed. "Like feeling me like that, baby?"

He pushes his hips into the bed, starting to rut when the pleasure increases.

You're so big, Dieter.

And suddenly he's thrusting against it, picturing your body writhing under him.

Need it, Dieter. Fuck me harder.

"Yes," Dieter groans into his pillow, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress. He thrusts furiously into the soft fabric of the bed, hips bouncing up and down on the mattress.

Need your big cock, daddy, your dream self moans. Need it deep.

"Fuck yes, baby. Take Daddy's cock. Take it and-"

His phone chirrups loudly on the table next to him, breaking him from the immersive fantasy.

A name and photo flash up on the screen.

Mia.

Immediately he feels guilty. Here he is humping his mattress to thoughts of you as his gorgeous, talented, funny, sexy girlfriend is calling.

He breathes rapidly through his nose, slowing his grinding movements. He rolls over in the bed, reaching for the phone.

"Hey babe," Dieter says, panting as he answers. He flips onto his back, willing his cock to go down.

"You okay? You sound like you've been exercising and I know that can't be true."

Dieter barks a laugh at that. He's about to reply when he hears a splash outside his window. Mia starts chatting in his ear but he's completely taken with the view outside his window.

You're in a bikini, gliding through the clear water of his pool. Dieter feels his mouth run dry at the sight, especially when you roll over onto your back, your belly protruding from the water like a beacon. Your hair dances around your head, your eyes closed, face tilted towards the sun. You have the sweetest little smile on your face.

You're so fucking beautiful.

"Dee? You there?"

"Huh? Yeah, sorry babe what?"

"I wanted to know how you're getting on? I've been staying off socials for the last little bit of the shoot trying to stay focused. I finally saw the photos from the airport. How is the poor thing holding up?"

"Stressed, but better."

"She must be happy to be at home away from all that madness."

Dieter feels his stomach clench. He knows he has to be honest with Mia, she's his girlfriend, she deserves to know. And yet he hesitates because he knows how it sounds.

"She's staying in my guest house, actually," Dieter offers in what he hopes is a nonchalant voice.

The warmth from Mia's voice is immediately gone.

"Pardon me?"

"She's, uh, in my guest house for the time being," Dieter adds, closing his eyes and bracing himself.

Mia shuffles on the other end before her voice reaches out to him confused.

"I thought you wanted a relationship with me, Dieter. Otherwise why did your agent go to so much trouble to confirm it? To do a splashy roll-out?"

"I do want it."

"But you have the employee you got pregnant living with you?"

"Not with me. In the guest house."

"This is weird, Dee."

He hears the concern in her voice and he feels his stomach drop. He doesn't want to lose Mia.

"Her mom kicked her out," Dieter explains quickly. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Pay for a hotel?"

The answer is so clear, so obvious. Why didn't he offer a hotel? He has the money. Why had it been so important for him to have you here?

Because then he could see you every day.

The answer is immediate but he won't admit it. Not now.

"The paps have been relentless," Dieter says finally. "They'll camp out outside of wherever I put her up. Not like here where I know she's safe away from the public eye."

"But-"

"She's not like us, Mia," Dieter insists. "She doesn't want fame and all that shit. She's just a regular person who's pregnant and alone. Her mom kicked her out, she's got no one else."

He can almost hear Mia softening over the phone.

"It's just hard, Dee," she says finally. "Especially when I haven't seen you in weeks."

Dieter feels a flutter of panic at how sad she sounds. He wants to make it up to her and has a great idea of how.

"Prague!"

Dieter bursts out with this, wincing when he hears how loud he is.

"Sorry, what?"

"What do you think about Prague?" Dieter corrects himself, rubbing nervously at his beard. "You're flying to LA next week for our magazine spread, right?"

"Yeah."

"And you've always wanted to go to Prague, right?"

"Yes."

"So let's do it. After the shoot let's get away from everyone and everything for a few weeks just us two."

"You'd really want to do that?"

"Of course."

He hears Mia weighing the choice on the other end of the line. He holds his breath until he can almost hear her smile.

"Okay Dee, let's do it."

“Amazing,” Dieter says grinning. “I’ll get Diane to send you the details. See you next week.”

He hangs up quickly, undressing and pulling on his swim trunks.

You’re floating on your back, sunglasses on your face, your body most submerged in the cool water. You hear the sound of a door opening and crack one eye open to see Dieter approaching.

Dieter never uses his pool. He got the house on a whim and didn’t even notice it had a pool until he officially moved in. But right now seeing your tits overflowing out of your bikini cups has him so utterly thankful to his former self.

He shrugs off his robe, sliding into the chilly water with an exaggerated brrrr. He swims over to you, sunglasses perched on the end of his nose.

“Looked so refreshing I had to join.”

“It’s so nice,” you sigh, your arms and legs out as you soak up the sun and enjoy the lack of strain on your lower back. “I never want to get out.”

Dieter paddles near you for a moment, wanting to remember this moment before he recalls his conversation with Mia.

“Well you’ll have the place to yourself the next couple of weeks.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Mia and I are going to Prague like you suggested.”

“That’s so great," you say with a tightness in your voice. “When do you leave?”

“Next Thursday.”

Next Thursday.

Dieter stars to drone on about how Mia has all these restaurants and museums she wants to go to but all you can think of is that you’ll be alone on your birthday. The first one since your father passed. No mother to turn to. Nothing. You’ll be completely alone.

A sudden flutter begins in your abdomen and you give an absent smile, hand slowly sliding over your stomach.

Well, not completely alone.

From where you stand in your guest house kitchen you can see into the main house. Specifically into the dining room. At night when the landscape is dark and the lights are on inside you can see it very clearly.

Like tonight.

You can see him pacing inside the house, his tall frame gesticulating wildly. He's obviously going over some lines. He asked you to have dinner and run through them but you’d texted back some feeble excuse.

The truth is you need to separate yourself as much as possible from Dieter because you’re convinced that what you’re starting to feel can’t be explained away by hormones. This desire to be with him.

But he’s leaving with Mia in a few short days on some whirlwind romantic escape. You even showed him the best way to pack his fucking suitcase! The sight of a box of condoms at the bottom of it hidden by the toiletries bag made your throat tighten.

Despite this your eyes sail over to Dieter’s house again, watching him make a note on his script before running through the lines. He looks so sexy when he does it, totally lost in the moment. It reminds you of the character he played in Ireland.

Fuck, that insatiable need is coursing through your body again. The hormones kicking into overdrive as you feel your thighs press together at the memory of Dieter and that regency costume. He looked so good in it. You can almost hear his husky voice in your ear.

It's okay if you want it, baby. Lemme give it to you.

You throw yourself into your plush bed, your hands sliding down under your panties and working frantically against your straining clit.

Uh huh. Just like that. Gotta come on my fingers before you get this cock.

You throw your head back, thighs squeezing as you rut against your fingers. This phantom Dieter plays in your mind, his husky voice full of dark, delicious promise.

Gonna fuck such pretty sounds out of you.

"Dieter," you groan, unable to help yourself. It's pathetic how quickly and easily your orgasm overtakes you. It leaves you shuddering and whimpering, rutting into your fingers and then finally collapsing back as you stare at the ceiling.

What the fuck are you doing?

Despite everything Dieter is still your boss in some ways. He’s still the man paying you to have a child. Yes, he’s sort of a friend, but at the end of the day he still holds some authority over you.

You wish that last thought didn’t turn you on so much.

You’re still groaning when you hear the light tap of knuckles on glass and you jerk up in your bed, face flushed.

You wipe your damp hand on the sheets before slowly stumbling out of the bedroom. Dieter is standing there at the glass door, giving you a stiff wave. You move quickly, tugging the door open. The sound of cicadas and LA night traffic punctuate the formerly peaceful space.

“Is everything okay?”

“I’m really sorry to come over here so late but Magda just told me when she was cleaning this place this afternoon she saw a roach.”

“What?”

Immediately you’re moving towards him, glancing behind you in disgust. Your eyes sweep the floor and counters for any trace. Strange, you haven’t noticed anything and this place is kept perfectly clean.

“Yeah,” Dieter nods, looking tense. “So I gotta get this place fumigated ASAP.”

“Of course.”

“But the fumes are bad for the baby so you’ll have to move your stuff into the main house until it’s finished.”

“For how long do you think?”

“Dunno,” Dieter shrugs, motioning to the room airily. “I was gonna call a guy in the morning to get some quotes. Might be a couple weeks before they can get someone out here.”

A couple weeks? Dieter has enough money to have the place fumigated tonight if he really wanted to. You gaze up at Dieter about to say as such when you see the searching nature of his eyes and suddenly the shoe drops.

There’s no roach.

You note the tense way he rubs his fingers together, the way his brows rise and eyes go owlish the longer you stare at him.

“I’m terrified of roaches,” you finally tell him as you start to throw your stuff into your suitcases. “Can I move my stuff in tonight?”

“Would be the safest,” Dieter nods exaggeratedly helping you to pack. It takes no time at all before he’s helping you carry the suitcases across the yard and into his home.

The guest room is just as nice as the guest house with tall ceilings but slightly less homey. Dieter prefers marble floors and gold accents. Things he was taught as a child meant rich. The bed is lovely, but minimalist. You are however very impressed with the large bathtub and even bigger rain forest shower. You put your suitcases to the side, feeling Dieter watch you from the doorway.

“It’s still early you wanna watch a doc or something?”

You bite back the delighted smile that threatens to bleed over your features before you turn to face him.

“Sure.”

“Okay, you got your passport, the tickets are on your phone, your bags are packed,” the young man’s reedy voice lists off things from his checklist as the three of you stand in the kitchen the following week. Dieter is sitting on one of the stools dressed nicely and looking nervously from the paper to you, completely ignoring Rupert.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

“Dieter.”

“What if you go into labor?”

“Almost three months early?” you force a laugh from where you stand by the fridge. “Then we have bigger issues than you not being here. Now c’mon. Mia’ll be here any second.”

Today is the photo spread for the movie Mia and Dieter starred in. It’ll run late so the lovebirds have decided on spending the night in a fancy hotel before shuttling off to Prague the next day. Dieter is always nervous about trips away but he realizes this is especially daunting since he’ll have no PA with him.

Diane has sent him someone new over during the week. A young man with bloodshot eyes and a nervous countenance named Robert or Roger. Dieter can’t remember. All he knows is that the kid does his job decently but he isn’t you.

But he promised himself that he would plan this trip for he and Mia. He researched the restaurants and hotels with her and booked it all. He got them the best seats in the plane and the nicest suite in the hotel.

But all he can think is that he’s going to be away from you for two weeks. Away from his son nestled safely in your body.

“I made a new tape for him,” Dieter says, suddenly snapping. He reaches into his pocket and slides the tape towards you. “Make sure he listens.”

“Yes, yes,” you say rolling your eyes.

The doorbell rings and Rupert immediately goes to answer it leaving you and Dieter alone. He watches you peering into the fridge trying to find something to satisfy your current craving of salty vanilla pudding.

“I don’t want to leave you.”

His voice is a quiet hum. Your mouth tries to form the words but all you can think of is Dieters warm eyes, his hands caressing your belly, the sweet timbre of his voice when he reads to you when you can’t sleep.

“I’m going to be okay,” you promise him softly as you glance over to him. “Now go say hello to your girlfriend.”

Dieter nods resolutely before bolting around the corner to see Mia. You hear his excited greeting and you try not to feel upset. Instead you dig around in the cupboard for something salty. You hear your name being called and you turn to see Dieter and Mia entering the room.

Mia’s eyes go round with shock at seeing you waddle towards her. You give a bright smile, despite the pang that goes through you at the sight of them hand-in-hand.

"Oh wow," Mia says when you waddle into the room holding a bag of chips.

"Weird right?"

"A little," she laughs. You join in, knowing how strange this entire scenario is. You feel like a baby hippo meanwhile Mia looks like she just stepped off the runway.

“So nice to see you,” she says, giving you an awkward hug as she avoids the bump. “I brought a little something for the baby,” she hands a wrapped gift to Dieter, “and one for you.”

Dieter unwraps the package, bringing out a first edition copy of Winnie the Pooh. Your eyes widen at the sight. That must have cost her a fortune.

“Thanks babe,” Dieter says warmly, kissing her. You look away, unwilling to watch and unwrap your gift from Mia which turns out to be a delicate crystal flower vase. Arguably one of the most useless things on the planet since you hate flowers. Dieter knows this and you think you catch a curl of amusement in his face.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you falter.

“I know,” she says sweetly. “I just saw it and thought of you.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, careful not to exchange amused looks with Dieter across the room. You shoot a soft smile at Mia. “Thank you so much. I’ll go pop it in my room so it doesn’t get broken. Magda tends to be a little chaotic when she cleans.”

You turn, about to go down the hallway to the bedroom when you feel something like tension in the room. You don't know why you pause but you do.

"I thought you were staying in the guest house?" She asks you but her eyes are scanning Dieter’s face.

“She was,” Dieter explains, hoping his cheeks aren’t red. “But there were roaches.”

Mia’s face scrunches. “Roaches?”

“Yeah,” you finally fumble, rubbing absently at your stomach. "The guest house needed to be fumigated and that’s not safe for the baby. That’s the only reason I’m in the guest room. I’ll be out in the guest house as soon as the fumigation is over."

Mia nods, but you don't miss the lingering look there in her light eyes.

With Dieter in Prague for the next few weeks you have a lot of free time to yourself. The only problem is you have no one to spend it with. You can't be seen in public now without a bodyguard save for your short walks through Dieter's Calabasas neighborhood. Phone calls with your mom are no longer an option. So you spend most of your time scrolling through social media, watching movies and swimming.

Dieter has always been annoying but he's the kind of annoying that brings you comfort now. Without his loud presence in the house you start to feel lonely. A strange feeling you've never really experienced due to your busy lifestyle.

It makes you long for the sound of Dieter's record player in the art room. Makes you long for his brash laughter during a funny commercial. Makes you long for the way your voices worked against one another when practicing lines, the sound of him muttering to himself when he reads something that interests him in the paper, the way he rasps your name when he’s just woken up.

All the sounds of Dieter that you realize have come to be their own comforting symphony to you.

But he’s with Mia and that's how it should be. They're on the same level. And you know that these feelings are from your hormones. This warmth will fade the second this child is taken from you and is likely contributing to this lonely feeling that arises with you each empty morning.

He’s only been gone four days but those days seem to stretch into eternity. Your mind is usually so full and your schedule packed. But you’re almost annoyingly free right now. Dieter has made only one request of you and that is to update the app every day at least once. He says it makes him feel less guilty about leaving, even though you're the one who encouraged it.

So you do.

29 weeks

Cravings

SALT

Vanilla

pie filling

chips

peanuts

Missing

the ability to see my feet

Baby is size of butternut squash

The only thing that tethers you to Dieter are the sporadic text messages he sends you. Where you once found his constant need to stay in touch annoying, now you crave his random messages, re-reading them with a smile.

[1:44pm] D: I hate not speaking Czech. I feel like everyone is making fun of me and I have no proof. [1:44pm]: You're being paranoid. [1:44pm] D: I'm not!!! [1:46pm] D: Okay maybe a little. Mia and I did an edible. [1:46pm]: Dieter! [1:46pm] D: Diane said no hard drugs! Edibles are natural.

You roll your eyes.

[1:47pm]: Whatever. Hope you're having fun.

You wish you could see his face when you recall Mia's instagram. You forgot you follow her. The second you click on her story you wish you hadn't. It's her and Dieter in a gorgeous spot in Prague chatting with the caption: Czech us Out! @BravoitsDieter

Your loneliness hits you on the fifth day quite acutely. And instead of turning to television or swimming you lay on your back in bed and stare up into the ceiling before your fingers fumble for your phone and you type hurriedly.

[6:08am]: I think he has your hair. [6:12am] D: Huh? What?? Why? [6:12am]: They say if the mother has lots of heartburn then the kid will have lots of hair. Right now I feel like my heart has been dropped in acid. [6:13am] D: No way. I thought babies were always bald. [6:13am]: Not always. I wasn't. Were you? [6:13am] D: Dunno. Never saw baby photos of myself. [6:14am]: Why not? [6:14am] D: My mom cared about stuff like that. When she died my dad just put everything in the attic and tried to forget.

You didn't know that about Dieter. You've heard snatches of information from other staff that Dieters dad is a low life, but to not save photos of your kid? That seems cruel.

[6:14am]: I'm sorry. [6:15am] D: NP. [6:15am] D: Mia is taking me to a museum so I gtg ttyl

You frown at the phone.

"What a bitch," you murmur before stopping yourself. You think about how your baby can probably hear sounds outside the womb now and you feel guilty.

"No, actually, she's not a bitch. She's really lovely and she's so good for your dad."

Your hands drift over your belly slowly, subconsciously as you speak and soon your eyes follow suit.

"Strange to think you're just in there all snuggly," you tell your belly with amusement. You gasp when you think you can feel a slight flutter within you abdomen.

"Is that you?" You wonder aloud. "Can you hear me?"

The fluttering continues and you feel something in you shift. Your heart squeezes pleasantly. He rarely moves around for just you. It seems he's most active when Dieter is nearby.

"You're really in there," you laugh to yourself. "And you can hear me."

The lonely feelings begin to dissipate. You're not alone - you have your son to keep you company. You talk to him through the day. You make jokes about bubble having Dieters hair. You talk to Bubble about the book you read on the porch. When you watch a documentary you narrate for the baby.

You update the app with a cheerful photo of you making a heart over the bellybutton with your fingers. You think Dieter will get a kick out of it.

When you go to bed you put the headphones over your belly and hit play on the walkman.

"This is a new one from your Dad," you tell your belly wryly as you position the foam on either side of your bump. "So I apologize now if it's fucking annoying."

With a serene smile you go to sleep with his muffled voice against your skin. And when you wake up on the sixth day you feel good. It's not until you look at the calendar that you're reminded of Friday's date.

Your birthday.

The first one without your father. It makes your stomach drop.

As if all of California has gotten the memo the day is grey and drizzly. You spend most of the day napping and eating whatever Petra has put together. But by mid afternoon you’re feeling restless. You try walking around the block, but the weather drives you back inside. You try to distract yourself but nothing seems to work.

Petra and Magda have gone home for the day. It’s just you and bubble and right now it feels like it’s just you. You decide to order a pizza for dinner, and as you wait for your Hawaiian Delight to arrive you can’t help but reach out to the one person you wish was here.

[5:48pm]: How is Prague? [5:50pm] D: Boring. [5:50pm]: Only you would say Prague is boring, Dieter. [5:51pm] D: In the airport now. Gonna go to Germany for a couple days. Mia really wants to see Cologne Cathedral and apparently they’re doing some once-in-a-decade tour event thing. I dunno. How’s the bubble? [5:51pm]: Still here.

You don’t know why you’re both still calling him Bubble. The tabloids have made it impossible not to be aware that you’re pregnant after all. But there’s something sweet about referring to him as your little Bubble.

[5:52pm] D: airport is so fucking noisy and I'm so tired. found coffee though.

[5:52pm]: Make sure not to drink too much. You won’t sleep on the plane. [5:52pm] D: U didn’t update the app today. [5:53pm]: Sorry, been distracted. [5:53pm] D:??? [5:53pm] D: How come?

You have no desire to get into this over text. Besides it’s not Dieters problem, it’s yours. And it’s not a problem it’s just. . . life.

[5:55pm]: Doesn’t matter. Here, this will have to do.

You attach a picture of your hand over your swollen bump and send it over.

You’re surprised when you see Dieter calling.

“Hello?”

“Why are you distracted?”

“Dieter don’t you have better things to do than call me about this?” You say rolling your eyes, but still delighted to be hearing his raspy voice. “Aren’t you in the airport?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t Mia with you?”

“She went to get another magazine for the flight. You gonna tell me what’s going on? Is it the Bubble?”

“No,” you say grunting as you lean back against the sofa.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine!”

“Cmon,” Dieter cajoles. “You know I’m just gonna keep calling and texting until you tell me.”

“Its pregnancy brain,” you throw out, hoping this will satiate him.

“Liar. Your voice always does that clipped thing when you lie.”

You can’t help but feel a small smile cross your features. You hear the distant boarding call for his flight and you decide you might as well tell him. It’s not like he doesn’t already know that your dead is dead.

“It’s just… It’s my birthday. The first one since my dad died and ...."

You trail off. You hear silence on the other end of the phone and then a soft fuck.

“Dieter?”

“I thought it was next month,” Dieter is murmuring and you can hear him tapping on the phone. “Fucking calendar. Fuck. I thought it was next month same day. That’s what I have it as. Fuck. This is why I don’t program my own fucking electronics. Fuck.”

“Nope. Today,” you clarify, amused at how frazzled he sounds. “But it’s not your problem. It’s just this is my first birthday without my Dad and, my Mom isn’t talking to me and I realized I’ve worked so hard so long I have no real friends and…. It’s just…”

You break off when you feel tears starting.

“Anyway, not your problem,” you say forcing your voice up an octave. “I’m only telling you because you asked. I hope you and Mia enjoy your trip! I can’t wait to see photos.”

“Hey, wait-“

“I gotta go,” you say, brushing the stray tears that have escaped. “Pizza guy is here. Bye!”

You hang up the phone and then place it on silent. You don’t want to talk with him anymore. You don’t want to talk with anyone. You just spoke to Dieter but that doesn't stop you from missing him. It gets to the point where you pull up old interview footage with him on YouTube just so you can hear his voice and see his smile.

When the pizza arrives you pay the guy delivering it, but then you just shove the box in the fridge. You take a shower, letting the tears mingle with the steamy droplets before pulling on a new nightdress. You grab the walkman and headphones, about to put them on when you pad t the kitchen for a glass of water.

You walk back, about to retire to your guest room, walking past Dieter’s bedroom. You’ve rarely ever been inside it and never when he isn’t at home. But something about today compels you into it, something make you push open the door and walk to his bed.

The room is recently cleaned by Petra, the bed freshly made, the floors sparkling, his clothing put away. The fireplace is off but you switch it on, noticing his tattered green robe freshly washed and hanging on the back of the bedroom door. You don’t even think about it, you just pull it on over your sleep dress and stumble into his bed.

Dieter’s bed is so comfy, even better than the one in his guest house and room. You curl under the sheets, burying your face in his pillow. It smells like his expensive shampoo and the cologne he sometimes wears. It brings tears to your eyes.

You wish he was here.

You turn onto your back, tummy swollen and resting heavily. It makes you long for Dieter in all aspects. Not just to fuck, but to spend time with. He's so different from anyone you know. He doesn't follow rules or social norms. But when you're with him you feel calm and not judged. It makes you feel like you can let go.

"Your daddy really is wonderful," you murmur to your belly, stroking it. "You might hear bad stuff but you need to know what a good heart he has. He's so generous and funny and he loves so deeply. You're not even here yet and he's so in love with you."

You look at the walkman resting beside you, and instead of putting it around your abdomen something inspires you to put the headphones on yourself. You’ve never listened to the message before but tonight you do.

You slip the cheap foam over your ears, rewinding the tape and smiling when his voice sounds out over the tape.

“Hey little Bravo, this is your dad speaking. I just found out you’re gonna be a boy. Woah. My son. Uh, I need you to know that you are so special and that when you’re born we’re gonna have so much fun. I’ve already made a list of places we’re gonna go. And-“

It goes on like this for several minutes with Dieter excitedly detailing all his future plans for he and his son. You hang onto every word, enraptured with the life he has in store for his son. You imagine a future with Dieter holding a baby with his same wild hair. And in this future you see him reach for a woman, but she isn’t you. It’s Mia, and she looks so happy with them. The perfect family.

Dieter’s voice draws you back in.

“You need to know that your Mom loves you just as much as me. I watch her patting you and whispering to you all the time. She told me last week that you were the size of a head of cauliflower. Then she started humming a song about her cauliflower son.”

You laugh out loud at the memory of you swimming a few weeks ago humming a tune about a cauliflower son. You didn’t even realize Dieter was paying attention. You turn your attention back to the recording.

“I just want you to know how much I love you. I love you so so much. I’m so excited to meet you.”

You stop the tape, rewinding it.

“I just want you to know how much I love you. I love you so much.”

You sniffle, rewinding the tape again.

“I just want you to know how much I love you. I love you so much.”

Again.

“I love you so much.”

Again and again you rewind to hear that section. And as you finally drift off into sleep it’s to the gentle sound of the man you desire whispering how much he loves you.

Dieter arrives at home late, toeing off his sneakers as he yawns, scratching his belly before heading for his bedroom. The suitcase is left at the front door, tomorrow’s problem. He’s exhausted from the flight and he needs to get some sleep before he talks to you tomorrow morning.

He opens the door to his room, preparing to throw himself into bed when he notices the fireplace is on. He pauses, seeing you in your bed lying on your side sleepily soundly. A small smile curls onto his lips when he sees the bright yellow walkman in your hand, fingers loosely around it. What strikes him is that you're wearing the headphones; you don't have them around your belly.

Dieter is quiet, looking down at your peaceful sleeping face illuminated by your bedside table. One of your hands is splayed over your belly protectively and this makes him smile. He gently pulls the earphones from off your head, sliding the walkman from your grip and placing both on his nightstand.

He figures he’ll sleep in the guest room tonight, musing that you’re playing musical beds tonight.

You murmur something sleepily, something be doesn't catch. He takes a minute longer to look at you and then his face hovers over yours. He kisses you softly, an innocent press of his lips to yours.

"G'night baby mama."

You shift partly awake, arms reaching out to wrap around his neck. He grins, allowing himself to get pulled into the bed next to you. You’re so warm. You don't say anything; you just snuggle up against him, face nuzzling against his neck.

"Go back to sleep, baby," Dieter tells your sleepy frame. "Just turning the light off."

He presses a ginger kiss to your temple before his free hand clicks the light next to the bed.

"Okay, love you, g'night," you murmur, still mostly dozing.

Dieter is silent, unmoving as your words rattle around in his head. He waits until you're snoring before he finally replies.

"I love you too."

TAGLIST: @getitoutofmymindwrites @manuymesut @whirlwindrider29 @mostardentlypascal @lu62 @missladym1981 @heareball @sptbear @drewharrisonwriter @lizzie-cakes @daddy-dins-girl @moel-jiller @tammythr @guelyury @lilyevanstan1325 @lu62 @sptbear @staywildflowahchild @whirlwindrider29 @pedropascalsbbg @cherrycosmos392

#dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #dieter x reader #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #series #a little sun

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bluejayblueskies · 5 months

Text

ten thousand flowers in spring | bluejayblueskies

[ID: Three photos of a hand-bound book from different angles that show the front, side, and back respectively. The book has dark green bookcloth, a decorative red and gold ribbon along the front cover and a black ribbon along the back cover, and a gold painted cherry blossom design on the front and back covers. The title and author name are also in gold on the front cover and spine and read, "Ten Thousand Flowers in Spring" and "bluejayblueskies." /End ID]

Last November, I got a Silhouette cutting machine for Black Friday. This weekend, I finally got the chance to use it for a bookbinding project! I bound my fic ten thousand flowers in spring as part of one of my Fandom Trumps Hate typesetting gifts, and I had a lot of fun going all-out with the flower iconography.

[ID: Two photos of the interior of the book. The first is the title page spread of the book, showing a pastel-colored painting of a cherry blossom-scattered hill with sheep and a shepherd that spans both pages. On the right page, there is the title "Ten Thousand Flowers in Spring" and the author name "bluejayblueskies" in a sans serif font. The second is the colophon (left) and table of contents (right) of the book. The colophon has details about the binder, the original fic, and the fonts and image sources used in the book. The table of contents has each chapter title and corresponding page number listed in a grid format with flower icons above each chapter title. /End ID]

Each chapter is titled after a flower that has a specific meaning that ties into the chapter content. I decided to style this bind after old botany books. Along with the cover, which is inspired by the covers of old botany books, each chapter header has an image of the titular flower pulled from public domain botany book scans, along with the flower's name and meaning below it.

[ID: The inside of the book, showing a page of text on the left and the chapter header on the right. The chapter header has an old-style image of blue salvia on it, with the name "blue salvia" and the meaning "friendship, family, thoughtful gestures, thinking of you" beneath it. /End ID]

Each chapter also begins with a faux-excerpt from the book Jon is writing throughout the fic:

[ID: The inside of the book, showing the introductory faux book excerpt on the left and the beginning chapter text on the right. The faux book text has an image of a flower beneath it; the beginning chapter text has a drop cap with a floral design at the beginning of it. /End ID]

Some more notes and pictures on process are below the cut!

The binding style of this fic is sewn boards binding, which I like for thinner books as the spine is much less fiddly to work with. It's also a really nice binding style in general because it eliminates my least-favorite part of the binding process: casing in. When casing in a regular case-bound book, you construct the entire case separately from the text block and then attach the case to the text block via the endpapers. Inevitably, I always end up just a little bit crooked, and because my brain currently refuses to let me try using paste instead of PVA, it's very hard to fix once the endpapers are pasted down.

With sewn boards binding, the boards are attached to the text block via an extra signature of folded cardstock on the ends of the text block. The case is then constructed directly onto the text block, and glueing the endpapers down is very, very easy and near-impossible to mess up.

The ends of the boards do end up exposed with this binding style. The first time I did it, I covered them with paper. This time, I painted them gold to match the cover:

[ID: A side view of the book, showing off the exposed boards near the spine which are painted gold. The front cover of the book can also be seen at an angle. /End ID]

I plan to experiment more in the future with potentially adding endbands to this binding style, as that's one thing I wish this book had that it does not.

For the cover design, I first cut out the stencils using my Silhouette:

[ID: A cutting mat with white vinyl stuck to it that has been cut and weeded to expose the backlit cherry blossom design. The title "Ten Thousand Flowers in Spring" and author name "bluejayblueskies" can be seen in the designs for the front cover and spine. /End ID]

I'd heard a lot of things about weeding, positive and negative, but I actually enjoyed doing the weeding on this 😂 it was like doing a puzzle in a way. I think I would like it less if I had to keep all of the tiny little pieces and make sure they looked nice, but as it was, all I had to do was remove them and it didn't matter if they got bent in the process.

The fabric paint I have dries very quickly, so I got very little bleed on my stencil and was able to remove it almost right away:

[ID: The back cover of the book with the vinyl stencil stuck to it, painted over somewhat messily with gold fabric paint. /End ID]

Overall, I was very happy with the stenciling process and will probably continue to do stencils as opposed to heat transfer vinyl unless I want to do some bigger, blockier designs in the future.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #ficbinding #bookbinding #jay's bound books #fanbinding

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merakiui · 6 months

Text

thinking about androids again, but rather than the plot seen in android jade,,,, consider android floyd who is being developed by tech genius idia shroud with input and funding from business magnate azul ashengrotto.

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, vaguely implied non-con/dub-con, android floyd)

He's designed to be a companion for those who are lonely and in need of the company (whether physically or socially). You're just a tired, overworked university student, so it's mind-boggling to you when there's a sleek limousine parked just beyond campus property. Security guards are insisting you come with them because there's someone who'd like to meet you.

In the limo, you find yourself sitting across from Azul Ashengrotto himself. He doesn't bother with flowery introductions, instead cutting to the heart of the matter. You've been randomly selected to help with a very important phase of his and Idia's project. The general idea is to test how well the android interacts with a normal, ordinary person in a monitored setting.

You're very confused. You never signed up for any lottery, and you certainly aren't affiliated with anything of that sort. You're just trying to get through your degree, survive two part-times, and hopefully make enough to keep afloat for another month. Azul tells you this isn't an issue; you'll be generously compensated for your time and efforts. It's only three months; you'll be permitted to live your life as you normally would, only now you'll be accompanied by a highly intelligent android.

Despite hearing all of this, you hesitate when he reveals the lengthy contract. As you flip through it, analyzing each clause and category, Azul says something that piques your interest. "We don't expect you to house an android in your little apartment. Goodness, that's simply ludicrous. We'll provide your housing for these next three months. After all, we must be able to monitor your progress."

"Housing? What do you mean?"

He smiles at you. Backdropped by leather interior, the lights casting odd shadows on his face, he looks near-sinister. But he leans forward to press a ballpoint pen into your hands and the illusion vanishes. "I think you'll find it quite to your liking. If you've finished your classes for the day, why not visit the property with me? Then you may decide whether you wish to participate."

You're not worried about that part. What worries you the most, however, is the fact that he's right. You are finished with classes for the day and you have nothing planned. You took today off from work. Your schedule is perfectly free.

But of course the Azul Ashengrotto wouldn't know that, would he?

The house is a smart home, equipped with every necessity and appliance. Everything's controlled by a remote here. It's not very far from your university either, built on a hill that overlooks houses below. It feels a little isolating and smells very new and clean. Like that fabled new car smell, only it's a house. But everything is so unique to you. Its minimalistic design is oddly cozy, and you can't help but feel enchanted the deeper you venture through the two-story home. It's all so unreal!

Azul gives you the rundown, explains how the remote and each button works. You can lock doors, open and close windows, mess with the thermostat, turn the home security on and off, and even start the oven. You hold the power to this home in the palm of your hands. It's immensely fascinating.

By the end of the tour, you're shaking his hand and signing his contract, agreeing to three months of study. Not only are you provided this nice home, you'll also be paid per week. And the pay is far more than you were making with your two jobs.

The android has a long, tongue-tying serial number, so to make things easier he's named Floyd. They even gave him a surname in preparation for the twin android who is being designed to complement and mirror him. He certainly looks human when you meet him, but there's this uncanny nature to his presence that slightly unnerves you. He's too perfect. Skin too smooth. Eyes too bright. Hair too soft. He towers over you, having to bend down to walk through the doorframe, and every movement he makes is very mechanical and stiff.

Still, you smile at him and offer your hand. "Hi there. I'm (Name). Your...housemate, I guess."

He nods, peering down at your hand before lifting his own. "Floyd Leech. At your service."

You were expecting to feel coldness, so you startle when his hand fits into yours and it's warm. It feels so very real. So deceptively lifelike. You wonder if he can regulate his own internal temperatures. Just how advanced is he?

"Right... Um, I look forward to getting to know you!"

He nods again, releasing your hand after a perfectly timed handshake.

Azul had given you a special number should you need to reach him or Idia. All you needed to do was phone it if at any point you were to feel confused or unsafe. "But I don't think you'll utilize it," he told you when you stood in the lab, watching Idia Shroud flit around to do final maintenance checks to ensure Floyd was ready for his first trial run. His eyes were open the entire time, two mismatched lights centered on you. His stare was listless, but somehow you felt as if he was looking through to your very soul. "He's very safe. In fact, he's programmed to assess and react appropriately to dangers of all kinds. You'll be safe with him around."

And safe you are.

You've always been alone, so it's nice to have a roommate, even if he only speaks when spoken to. It's awkward for all of one week until you ease into his pattern. From various vantage points throughout the house, Idia and Azul watch through hidden cameras. You cook your meals for yourself and Floyd watches, assisting when you order him to. You leave for class and Floyd waits by the door for you to return, standing stock-still for hours.

You lounge in the sitting room and put on all kinds of films. Action. Comedy. Horror. Floyd's eyes never leave the screen. But sometimes he watches you more than he watches the movie, noting all of your reactions. He doesn't understand why you get so emotional over sappy romances. So you explain it simply: "It evokes emotions. We all have emotions, and these movies make us feel them. Happy. Sad. Angry. Upset. Things like that."

But Floyd doesn't feel. Even so, he listens and he nods along, filing your answers away for later dissection. It's interesting.

By the end of the first month, Floyd's adopted new habits. Ever since you told him he's free to do as he pleases, he's taken to cooking your meals for you, doing your laundry, preparing your bag for the day. He's surprisingly good at it. He does chores when you leave for classes or work. And for the first time in a while you're excited to return home, knowing he's there waiting.

Floyd adds new words and phrases to his ever-expanding vocabulary. You watch a lot of TV together and he starts to use some of what he hears in his own speech. He picks up informal language quickly, and it isn't long until he's using words like sup or dunno instead of the rigid how are you? and I am unsure he was previously programmed with.

The first sign of unrest comes when you realize Floyd's also connected to the smart home. At first you didn't think it was a bad thing. After all, with him controlling it you won't have to worry about getting up to grab the remote if you've already sat down. Floyd can do that for you. But then the remote goes missing, later turning up shattered. You ask Floyd what happened and he looks at you and says, "Why use this piece of junk when you've got me?"

"Still... What if you're not able to help? What if you're in sleep mode and I need to open a window or something?" you argue, cradling the splinters of remote like they're an injured baby bird.

"That won't happen," he replies smoothly, issuing you a soothing smile. "I'm always gonna be here for ya. Count on it."

And you do because, by the time the three months are nearing their end and Floyd's developed into quite the companion, more and more human than he's ever seemed, you find yourself stuck.

No, not stuck. That's not quite right. You're more so trapped.

Floyd locks the doors, shutters the windows, turns off the lights. You're cowering in the closet, the only place that feels just a little safe in this moment. You can't reach Azul or Idia either. He's shut the power off, the internet connection, everything. The smart home on the hilltop feels like a tiny island now, and Floyd's the shark always circling it, waiting for you to dip your feet into the depths.

"C'mon, Shrimpy," he calls out, and it's a nickname you were once so fond of because he thought of it himself. "I already told ya I ain't gonna hurt ya. So just come out and talk to me."

You have no idea where you went wrong. Was it too many horror films? Was it the fact that you started to rely so heavily on him for companionship, ignoring your human friends in favor of staying in with Floyd? Or was it because he was blocking their numbers that you never received any messages and automatically assumed they were cutting contact? He said he'd always be here for you, so why to this degree?

The closet doors are thrown open. Floyd drags you, kicking and screaming, out by the ankles. Every camera has gone dark on Azul and Idia's end. All but one. The one in the bedroom. Floyd stares directly at it when he lifts you up and lays you on the bed, gentle and sugary-sweet.

He smiles and waves before that screen blanks out, leaving you truly trapped with him.

And because it's all experimental, morbid curiosity trumping ethical morals, no one comes to rescue you.

Three months is more of an indefinite forever in this lonesome smart home.

#meraki mumbles #yandere twst

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sstormyskyess · 6 months

Note

omg 16 with poly tf141 would be the greatest thing ever reader brings not one, not two, but four huge beefcakes home to their shitty families holiday party that they only throw to show off their fancy house and shitty interior design, I know that probably wasn't the original idea of the prompt but if you're interested I'd love to see you write it thank you!

Family Affairs

author's note: i actually got to pull from personal experience with this one tbh, i’m gonna have to go to a party like this near the end of the year. unfortunately, i don’t have four beefcakes to bring with me 😔 at least i can imagine it though! thank you for the request, hope you enjoy!!

cw: poly tf 141, general fluffy stuff, reader has a big family [just like me, i have 14 members in my extended family just on my dad’s side]

word count: 1800+

TF-141 x GN!Reader

You groan, burying your face in your hands. You were hoping, praying that you weren't going to get that one little text message that always spelled disaster no matter when it came across your phone screen. It had been a good run, too; you hadn’t suffered this fate in a good few years. But, apparently that winning streak was too good to be true.

You look at the notification on your screen again, re-reading it for about the third time. ‘We hope to see you at the party this year! P.S., please bring your boyfriend along this time, your aunt won’t drop it,’ the message from your mom read. Boyfriend. Little did she know, you in fact had four boyfriends, none of which had met your frustratingly nosy family.

Speak of the devil—or, one of them at least—John walks into the common area, a stack of papers in his hand. “Morning, love.” He shoots you a smile before focusing his attention back on the documents he was scanning. “What’s on your mind?” He takes a seat in the chair opposite you, leaning back and crossing his legs, one ankle on the other leg’s knee.

You think for a bit before sighing. “Off-base things. Family stuff.” It’s clear he was unsatisfied with your vague answer when he met your eyes with a raised brow. You huff, knowing you wouldn’t get away with dancing around the issue for even a moment. “My mom wants me to bring a boyfriend back for my aunt’s holiday party.”

John continues to look at you, his air gone from stern to confused within a second. “You do have a boyfriend. Four of them, actually.” He tilts his head as he states the obvious. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “I know that. I just don’t wanna subject any of you to the torture that is being at those pointless parties.”

He just smiles at you again, his eyes returning to whatever was on the papers in his lap. “Maybe we’ll make it better for you. I’m sure the rest of our boys will be glad to accompany you.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, thinking about the prospect. Frankly, it did sound like a good idea on the surface; it would be nice to spend some down time with all the people you love, after all. After another few moments of thought, you nod and stand up from your chair. “You’ve got a point. I’ll go talk to the others, then—see if they’ll be able to come with us.”

John hums in approval, catching your wrist as you walk past toward the door. “Hey. Come here.” You smile, leaning down to kiss him and appreciating the feeling of John’s hand coming up to the nape of your neck, his fingers rubbing a loose circle on your skin. “Things will be fine, darling,” he says after pulling away. “Don’t worry.”

A deep sense of dread starts to build inside of you as your mini convoy starts to approach your aunt’s house, which is technically more like a mansion based on the size of it. It had already set in the moment Simon convinced the others to let him drive. Yes, he got you to your destination way faster than any of the others would, but that was only because he drives like a maniac.

The dread slowly developing wasn’t caused by Simon almost getting everyone into a wreck at least two or three times, though. It was caused by the fact that you could already see your family’s cars lined up along the road and sitting in the driveway, memories of past parties flooding your head.

Kyle beside you must notice the way you’ve started shrinking into yourself and he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you close to kiss you on the cheek. “I’m excited to meet your family, sweetheart.” An underlying joy is hidden in his voice, which brings a small smile to your face. “You sure?” You chuckle, leaning into him. “They can be a lot.”

“I’ve dealt with worse, no need to worry.” He ensures you, pressing a couple more kisses to your temple and your forehead. Your cheeks warm and you push his face away. “Stop it,” you say playfully.

Johnny helps you out of the car and wraps an arm around your waist when Ghost pulls over to park his car on the side of the street. “Who do you think is gonna be the favorite?” He asks with a grin on his face. You hum, tapping your chin and feigning deep thought. “Probably John. And not you, the responsible John.”

Johnny scoffs, dramatically putting a hand over his heart. “I am responsible! Can’t believe you would say such a thing!” You simply pull him closer and kiss him on the cheek, giggling under your breath. “I’m sorry, baby. Please forgive me—” You’re cut off by him giving you a big kiss on the lips. “Fine, you’re forgiven.” He gives you his bright smile, the one that reaches his eyes and crinkles the corners of them.

Simon walks past and tugs on Johnny’s sleeve, pulling him forward. “Get moving, Johnny.” He grunts, dragging him along and taking you with him in turn.”We’re coming, we’re coming,” Johnny huffs.

You take a deep breath once you reach the front door of your aunt’s house, amping yourself up to face the music head-on. You feel John’s comforting hand between your shoulder blades and you smile, his silent support soothing your nerves and giving you the courage to ring the doorbell, officially sealing your fate. No going back now.

Surprisingly, the night was actually going well. Just like John said, being able to sit in-between two of your ruggedly handsome partners while the other two were pulling your aunt’s attention away from you was massively more comfortable compared to your other experiences in this house.

Johnny and Simon, seated next to you on either side, chatted with a couple members of your extended family while Kyle was off in the kitchen making a plate of hors d'oeuvres for you, and John was busy entertaining your aunt and mother with various war stories from his yesteryears. It seemed like everyone was having a blast, their easy smiles contagious.

You look up when Kyle sits in the armchair next to the loveseat you, Simon and Johnny were posted up on. You grin when he presents you with a small plate full of various meats and cheeses. He kisses your hand as you reach over and take the plate from him, making your face heat up. You shoot him a pointed look, but he flashes his pretty smile in return. You can’t possibly stay mad at that smile—I mean, have you seen it? You just shake your head, unable to mask the flustered look on your face.

Your grandmother looks away from her conversation with Johnny and turns her attention to Kyle. “Oh my! Who’s this lovely young man?” She listens intently as he introduces himself and then starts up her usual questioning whenever one of her grandbabies brought someone to meet the family.

You let out a long sigh, your senses already getting overwhelmed after the past hour or so of entertaining the party with your boys. You start to pick at your hors d'oeuvres, building a little stack of what looked like some sort of salami and a piece of cheese on a cracker, popping it in your mouth.

Simon’s hand comes into your downturned gaze and rests on your leg, giving it a firm yet gentle squeeze, a silent check-in. You cover his hand with yours, looking up at him and smiling, effectively quelling his concerns. He nods and intertwines his fingers with yours, an affectionate glint in his gaze. You return the look wholeheartedly and let him pull his hand away to rest in his lap.

You glance up when you hear your name being called across the room and see John and your mother looking over at you. She beckons you over and you sigh, standing up and starting to head over to the two of them. You jump when Johnny’s hand pats the back of your thigh a couple times, smirking up at you. You roll your eyes and mutter a quiet ‘stop that,’ trying to hide the fact that your heart skipped a beat at the smug look on his face.

John wraps an arm around your waist once you get close enough, his hand petting up and down your side. “Your mother wants to know how we met,” he explains. Your mother pipes up, “I also want to know why you were hiding these lovely men from the family for so long.” She gives you a look. The look. You groan, running a hand over your face. “Of course, mom.”

“I’ve no idea why you were so worried about tonight, bonnie. It was perfectly fine!” Johnny pulls you down to the couch in the living room of the house you and the others had bought recently, his arms tight around you. He held you in place to pepper kisses all over your face. You try to push his face away so you can actually respond to his comment; the effort was futile, but after a few pushes he pulls away on his own. “It seems like they were on their best behavior since you four showed up with me. You’re all pretty imposing, to be fair,” you say, leaning back against Johnny’s chest.

Simon walks in with a handful of mugs filled with warm spiced apple cider, passing them around the room and then sitting in his armchair, his legs crossed loosely. He notices your eyes on him and raises a brow. “You talking about me?” You laugh and shake your head. “Not just you, silly.”

Kyle catches the tail end of the conversation after coming downstairs in his lounging clothes, sitting next to John on the loveseat opposite the couch Johnny had you buried in. “I’m sure it was mostly you, Simon.” He grins, leaning into John’s side. You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m sure most of my family was intimidated by your dashingly handsome looks, good sir.”

John rests his arm on the back of the couch, his fingers playing with the hair on the back of Kyle’s neck. “That’s a good point, darling,” he smirks, taking note of the bashful look that crosses Kyle’s features. He hides his smile by taking a sip from his mug.

“Hopefully your family feels a bit more comfortable around us next year, yeah?” John takes a sip of cider from his own mug, before setting it down on the coffee table and picking up the remote to put something on the TV, probably some shitty holiday movie. The exact kind that he likes.

You hum and hold your warmed up mug in your lap, happily cuddling up with Johnny. “Yeah, hopefully.” There’s a brief pause before you realize what he just said and the implications of it. “Wait—next year?” And once again, that signature sense of dread hits you and you groan, knowing you wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise.

𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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femininenachos · 2 months

Note

Hello lovely. I’ve been thinking about vacation au. Please tell me Clarke runs into Lexa swimming in some crystal clear Grecian water and wells has to close her mouth for her.

(Not quite, but close!)

Previously: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

By mid-morning the narrow streets near the harbour are already swarming with island hoppers fresh off the ferry. More line the quayside, waiting to board the day cruise that takes in the larger, more populous archipelago further down the coast. So-called ‘jewels of the Aegean’, they’re feted for being playgrounds of the rich and famous, boasting a slew of luxury resort hotels, designer boutiques and staggeringly expensive seafront restaurants.

For all its charm and scenic vistas, at least Polis has one foot in the real world. Here, craggy-faced fishermen and dock hands in scruffy overalls are hard at work unloading the morning’s catch, doing their best to ignore the clusters of tourists floating around, or at least tolerating their presence with stoic indifference.

And—it’s possible Clarke might be biased—Polis has Lexa, currently leading the charge like a woman on a mission. Clarke sticks close, her hand in Lexa’s sure grip, hurrying to match her loping strides as they make a beeline for the marina. Along the way they pass an assortment of small motorboats in all shapes and sizes, from dinghies and jet skis to skiffs and cabin cruisers and everything in between, until a gleaming white single-masted sailboat comes into view at last.

Clarke stops dead in her tracks on the cobblestones, fingers slipping from Lexa’s.

Her jaw drops.

“Is this yours?”

Lexa glances over and laughs at Clarke’s expression. “I make good tips, but not that much.”

She points to the modest vessel moored next to it, an open-top vintage deck boat with a walnut veneer interior and burnt orange leather upholstery that’s bleached from exposure to the sun and the salty sea air. ‘Spirit of Polis’ is written in blue cursive script on the hull.

“I mean, this one’s great too,” Clarke is quick to respond. She styles it out. “Not so flashy. Compact. Classic. Nice, uh, sleek lines.”

Lexa peers over the top of her sunglasses, lips subtly twisting to the side. “It belongs to my uncle, so you don’t have to worry about offending me or the boat.”

She puts down the cooler containing their provisions of cold drinks and extends a hand to help Clarke aboard. A little unsteady on her feet at first, Clarke holds on tightly for support while she finds her balance, shifting her weight to counteract the bobbing motion of the boat as water sloshes against the sides. Once she’s confident she isn’t going to fall flat on her face or, worse, into the harbour, she takes a few cautious steps to reach the small seating area at the rear. She shrugs off her tote bag to stow under the bench and situates herself, the sun-scorched leather burning hot against the backs of her thighs.

From this safe perch (and prime ogling spot), she watches Lexa collect the thick rope that tethers the boat, tossing it onto the deck before she gracefully hops across with the cooler and gets behind the controls. Full of poise at the helm, like it’s second nature to assume command, the signature pout in place as Lexa lifts her chin like she’s surveying her nautical domain.

It goes without saying that the whole preppy, boat-captain vibe is one hundred percent working in her favour.

Shades on. Hair spilling down her back in glossy chestnut waves, the ends getting whipped around by the wind. Appealing in her pale pink button-down worn over a snug white tank. Shirt open and catching the light breeze, the sleeves rolled up to reveal a hint of muscle definition and the ink that encircles her bicep. Tight little navy blue shorts hug her hips and ass in ways that are about to cause a major international incident at sea, because Clarke is far from looking respectfully.

“Ready?”

When her eyes snap up, she spies the half-smile on Lexa’s side profile, as though she detects the unholy thirst emanating from mere feet away.

Clarke gives a slow, absentminded nod, the tip of her tongue poking out the side of her mouth as her eyes make another involuntary sweep down Lexa’s form.

“Clarke.”

She gets a hold of herself, breathing in deeply, and with it the spell is broken.

“Mm? Oh, yeah,” she says, feeling a resurgent wiggle of anticipation about this mystery adventure they’re about to embark on together. All Lexa was willing to divulge when they met is that it’s Polis’s best-kept secret, a spot known only to locals, unreachable except by boat, and so far unspoiled by tourists. Clarke had feigned offense on the last point, but soon dropped the act when Lexa tilted in for a kiss that went on and on and made her stomach clench. Each time Clarke started to retreat, Lexa would chase her mouth and draw her back in for more.

Her lips are still tingling.

(Both sets.)

“At least give me a hint about where we’re going?”

The enigmatic smirk that plays around Lexa’s mouth widens a fraction. “I thought you liked surprises.”

“Oh, I do. But I’m also stubborn as hell and won’t take no for an answer, so jot that down.”

It earns a laugh, one Clarke is fast becoming enamoured with, and she can’t control the warm tingle that goes through her when she hears it or the rush of elation she gets from bringing a rare grin to Lexa’s face.

“Good to know,” Lexa says as she reaches for the ignition key. Her next words are almost lost to the splutter and chug of the engine before it roars to life. “I like a challenge.”

~*~

Within an hour, they reach a small, secluded cove surrounded by sheer limestone cliffs, the ancient rock sculpted by wind and waves, where sparse scatterings of tall, rugged pines sprout precariously from narrow ledges in defiance of the elements.

It appears like a mirage, shimmering into view: a bay of dreamy, pristine, white-gold sands and crystal clear turquoise waters, serene and inviting, and there isn’t a soul in sight. The closest thing they had to company was the pod of dolphins they spotted off the starboard (Clarke learned) side about twenty minutes ago. She’d gasped and clutched Lexa’s arm, bouncing on her heels in sheer delight. But it was the look they shared, brimming with joy and something unaccountably softer and fonder, that made it all the more magical, the moment already locked into Clarke’s memory.

“What do you think?” Lexa asks.

Lost for words, Clarke shakes her head in silent awe.

She turns to Lexa, and the smile Lexa directs at her, eyes bright and glowing in the sunlight, leaves her just as speechless. When Clarke finds her voice at last, it comes out thick, clogged with emotion; touched and amazed by the incredible beauty of what she sees—the place, and the woman who brought her here. So moved that she’s dangerously close to shedding a tear, her vision glazing over.

She blinks the moisture away.

“It’s…” She draws in a breath and lets it out slowly. Lifts her eyebrows. “Wow.”

She doesn’t second guess the impulse to wrap an arm around Lexa’s waist, to plant a soft, grateful kiss on her jaw.

“Thank you for sharing it with me.”

Full lips twitch at the corners. “My pleasure.”

With one hand resting on the wheel, Lexa drapes her free arm around Clarke’s shoulders. They remain like that, Clarke hugging Lexa’s side and taking in the spectacular scenery as Lexa guides the boat in at a steady rate of knots.

“I can’t believe this place has stayed under the radar. You’d think tour operators would be running excursions out here every hour until sunset.”

“Clarke.” Lexa grows serious all of a sudden, and that only makes Clarke want to kiss her again. Coax another smile. “You must promise not to tell anyone. It’s how we preserve it for future generations.”

Clarke schools her features, pretending to match Lexa’s gravity.

“Well… it’ll cost you. My silence doesn’t come cheap.”

The slight frown Lexa wears smooths out as soon as she catches on. A quizzical eyebrow flexes in a way that’s rudely attractive.

“Name your price, but don’t forget I work in hospitality.”

“I’m not interested in your money, Lexa. What I want” - Clarke trails her hand over Lexa’s hip and the perfect curve of her backside to give it a slow, purposeful squeeze, relishing Lexa’s intake of breath and the darkening of her gaze as she glances at Clarke’s lips - “is you.”

She meant to say “your body” but she doesn’t correct the verbal slip. Because, yeah, she does want to bend Lexa into all kinds of shapes like a pretzel, but she also has a deep desire to learn more about Lexa as a person, to find out what makes her tick, beyond what she likes to do in bed.

Lexa takes it in stride regardless, easing back into the confidence she has in spades.

Something about the slope of her smile signals she’s about to gain the upper hand.

She shrugs.

“Okay, deal.”

The enduring gleam in Lexa’s eyes before she turns her attention back to the sea gives Clarke palpitations. Her pulse thunders in her ears, drowning out the engine noise and the crash of the boat breaking the waves.

~*~

They drop anchor a short distance from the shore, an easy swim from the dazzling white sands. Not yet ready to take a dip, preferring to bake in the heat for a while first, Clarke spreads a large beach towel on the deck for sunbathing. She senses Lexa’s attention on her as she shimmies out of her shorts and shucks her loose tee to reveal the red halter neck two-piece that Octavia helped pick out after breakfast.

(“Hellooo, mama,” Octavia had drawled after Clarke emerged from the en suite and gave a reluctant twirl. She’d let out a low whistle as she ran her eyes up and down. “Almost wish I was tagging along just to watch Sexy Lexy’s head spin 360-degrees before it explodes. The twins ain’t playing.”)

At the time, Clarke had rolled her eyes and fought a blush but she’s glad she went with O’s suggestion.

Aware of her present captive audience, she proceeds to get comfortable on her back. One knee bent, an arm tucked behind her head as a pillow, showing off her best assets like a 1950s calendar pinup girl. Even behind the dark tinted lenses of her sunglasses, she sees Lexa’s eyes hungrily trace the shape of her body. Clarke basks in it, a smile tucked into the corner of her mouth, secure in the knowledge that she’s not just a snack, she’s the whole damn meal, and Lexa looks like she wants to devour every last crumb.

But Clarke’s smugness is short-lived, because in the next moment she’s the one left gawking when Lexa wordlessly strips down to the skimpiest pair of bikini bottoms and not a stitch else, brow quirking up as she peers over her shoulder then dives off the deck, slicing through the water with barely a splash.

Clarke quickly levers up onto her elbows to watch Lexa surface seconds later, hair slicked back and plastered to her skull, a sly little tilt to her lips as she treads water.

“Come on in. The temperature is perfect,” she calls out, looking every inch the siren that lures thirsty sapphic sailors to their deaths.

Clarke tries to cling on to the last vestiges of composure she has remaining.

“Gonna work on my tan for a little bit.”

The pout returns and she laughs, “Soon!”

Grabbing the tube of sunscreen from her nearby tote, she squeezes a large dollop into her palm. While Lexa does slow laps around the boat, Clarke liberally reapplies the lotion, slathering it on until all the exposed skin within reach is covered.

Before long, she hears Lexa climb the ladder onto the swim platform, accompanied by the rush of water cascading off her body as she rises out of the sea.

The soft slap of wet footfalls draws nearer.

“Lex?” Clarke twists around. “Could you do my—”

She stalls mid-sentence, only cognizant of her fingers closing hard around the tube in her hand when a spurt of lotion shoots out, splattering across her thigh and the towel.

She doesn’t even flinch.

All Clarke can do is gape and stare, watching rivulets of water run down the slope of Lexa’s bare chest. Eyes drawn inexorably to taut nipples and golden skin that glistens under the sun, to the long, lean lines of Lexa and the scrap of luminous orange fabric that sits low on her hips.

Clarke’s belly tightens, arousal flaring hot between her legs.

(A voice in her head that sounds disturbingly like Wells tells her to close her mouth.)

She has to remind herself to breathe.

Is thankful for the oversized shades that partially mask her expression, because she isn’t in control of what her face is doing right now. But if Lexa’s lip-bitten smile is any indication, it’s a lost cause anyway.

Casually wringing the water out of her hair as she approaches, Lexa glances at the milky white streak on Clarke’s inner thigh.

“Not the first time I’ve made a girl squirt.”

Clarke mutters a sarcastic “ha ha”, rubs the lotion into her skin, then wipes her hands on the edge of the towel before she reclines again. She fakes nonchalance when Lexa sinks down beside her, but it’s impossible to ignore the butterflies.

She rolls her shoulders and stares at the sky above, fixating on the solitary vapour trail that cuts across the endless blue.

“Speaking of previous liaisons... do you bring all your conquests here?” She’s mostly kidding, but there’s an undercurrent of needing to know too. She peers at Lexa. “Or am I one of the lucky few?”

A slow shake of Lexa’s head before she leans over on her elbow, closing in and partially blocking the sun, and Clarke’s skepticism must be plain to see, because Lexa looks so intensely sincere now, no trace of a smile or any disingenuousness when she says: “It’s the truth, I swear.”

Still, Clarke has her doubts. There’s no way Lexa isn’t tripping over hot women throwing themselves at her feet and this boat trip is too well-orchestrated not to be a tried and tested seduction technique.

Clarke peels off her shades to look Lexa square in the eye, and that frank, steady gaze pierces straight through her.

“I mean it, Clarke.”

The space between them shrinks.

Lexa’s pupils dilate as her focus shifts to parted lips. “You’re special.”

Water drips off the ends of Lexa’s hair onto Clarke’s shoulder and chest, and whatever rebuttal she had dies in her throat. She’s the one to reach out, gripping Lexa by the neck to tug her the rest of the way and kiss her like Clarke’s been dreaming of all morning.

As soon as Lexa throws a long leg over Clarke to straddle her, knees bracketing her hips, she needs no further convincing.

It’s on.

She dips her tongue inside Lexa’s mouth and slides both hands up Lexa’s rib cage to cup her breasts, a shiver running through Clarke when she feels the hard poke of nipples against her palms. She kneads, and the low, throaty noise it earns her sets her nerves alight, warm tingles suffusing her body.

They kiss deeply, greedily.

They kiss until Clarke has to drag her mouth away to gulp down some air, only to have the oxygen punched out of her lungs once again when Lexa uses the opportunity to shove her bikini bottoms off, scoop her mane of wet hair to one side and resettle against Clarke’s thigh. With her hands planted on either side of Clarke’s shoulders, Lexa holds herself up as she starts to work along the tensed muscle.

The slick, molten feel of Lexa, sliding against her skin, riding Clarke, makes her burn. She lurches up into the next kiss, hungrily reclaiming Lexa’s mouth, urging her on with a grip on her ass, and that shaky little hitch of breath in the back of Lexa’s throat whenever the friction gets her just right succeeds in getting Clarke wetter and wetter too. At this rate, she might come before Lexa does, and the odds only increase when Lexa takes Clarke’s hand and guides it between her legs.

“Use your fingers.”

Another surge of heat floods through Clarke at the instruction, hearing the normally smooth, modulated tone of Lexa’s voice roughed by need.

Clarke studies Lexa’s face, watching for the tiny flickers of reaction as she runs her fingers lower, fascinated by each and every twitch and jolt and slight gasp as she explores. She dips in and drags the wetness up to swirl around Lexa’s clit and is rewarded by the sharp jerk of Lexa’s hips and quite possibly the dirtiest kiss of Clarke’s entire life. She needs no prompting to slide through slick heat to tease at Lexa’s entrance again, fingertips doing a couple of slow swirls before she pauses.

For a beat they remain suspended in a freeze frame of anticipation. Each holding still, a breath caught in their throats.

On the exhale Clarke pushes inside.

And fuck, she missed this. Touching yourself is great and all, empowering, fantastic for stress relief, et cetera. But nothing beats the sound another woman makes when you enter her for the first time, when you hear that shaky intake of breath and you feel her clench around your fingers.

“Good?” Clarke asks.

Lexa nods, bottom lip held between her teeth as she looks down at Clarke with hooded eyes, the green of her irises nearly eclipsed by black.

Part of Clarke can’t quite believe this is her reality. That she’s buried to the knuckles and Lexa is moving on her, rolling to meet the steady pump of her wrist.

She glances between their bodies and a groan escapes, another sharp twist of lust coiling in the pit of her stomach once her eyes fasten on her own two fingers coated with Lexa’s arousal, fucking into her. But Clarke pries her eyes away, roving over tight abdominals, taking in the curves of Lexa’s tits and the jut of her nipples, torn between wanting them in her mouth and watching her fingers disappear inside again.

It’s Lexa’s half-stifled whimper when Clarke’s thumb finds her clit that sharpens her focus.

Winding her arm around Lexa’s lower back, Clarke sits them upright and swiftly brings their lips together. The abrupt change of angle has Lexa gasping hotly into her mouth. Again, louder, when Clarke’s palm rubs in. Lexa grips her by the shoulder and the back of her neck, blunt nails digging in as Lexa grinds down harder, faster, speeding towards the climax—the first of many, if Clarke has her way—sucking in short, sharp gasps while Clarke keeps pace, despite it being hell on her wrist.

They’re hardly kissing at all now, mouths hanging slack and sharing the same air, noses pressing into cheeks as they pant against one another’s lips.

She soon feels the first flutters, the growing tension in Lexa’s form, the choppy motion of Lexa’s hips and the careless scratch of her nails at Clarke’s nape. She curls the tips of her fingers on each partial drag out then slams back in, lifting Lexa an inch off her lap with each thrust. Clarke keeps the heel of her palm tight against Lexa’s clit, the pressure firm and constant, and in the next collection of halting, rapid breaths, Lexa’s whole frame pulls taut. A ragged cry is torn from her throat and she clenches hard, coming in a hot spill around Clarke’s fingers. Lexa shudders through it, a tremble in her jaw when she catches Clarke’s mouth in a fierce, bruising kiss, licking into her with a groan that makes Clarke gush in turn.

They remain in a heavy lip lock long after the tremors subside, neither inclined to separate. Restless hands weave through Clarke’s hair then seek out her curves, roaming down her chest with purpose, pushing under the top half of her swimsuit. She gives a low hum of approval when Lexa’s thumbs roll over the tight tips of her nipples, the ache mirrored in the dull, pulsing emptiness between her legs.

She feels close to orgasm already, like if she got even the tiniest bit of friction she’d go off like a rocket. Just a small shift of her hand to grind against her own knuckles would do it. But the way Lexa is touching her breasts, palms running all over, teasing her nipples into stiff, hypersensitive points, might be enough to get Clarke there.

And all the while, she’s still inside Lexa. Fucking her lazily with slow presses of her fingers, incapable of much more vigour when her wrist is screaming. She’s debating what to do next, whether to withdraw and flip Lexa onto her back for round two or continue like this, when a distant droning noise intrudes, faintly audible above the gentle lap of water, the thick, wet squelch of Clarke’s hand working between Lexa’s thighs, and their combined heavy breathing.

Growing more distracted by the second, Clarke draws her mouth away. She squints at the horizon beneath the shade of her free hand while warm lips meander along her jaw and down her neck.

She ceases her movements, despite Lexa’s meaningful buck of her hips and the subsequent small growl of complaint when Clarke fails to take the hint.

“What’s—” Teeth nip at the fading hickey on her throat and she gasps, hand flying to tangle in Lexa’s damp, curling hair. But as the object begins to resolve itself, Clarke tenses for a different reason. “Is that a boat?”

Lexa abandons her sulk to look too.

A white shape is rapidly approaching, throwing up sea spray, sunlight glinting off the surface and the waves and making it difficult to discern from this distance until… oh. Oh, yeah.

Letting out a string of (presumably) expletives in her native tongue, Lexa scrambles off Clarke to scoop up the clothes strewn across the deck. She pulls on her tank top, yanks the shorts up her legs, and has just enough time to arrange herself into a casual pose beside Clarke before the other boat reaches them. The occupants are obnoxiously young; late teens or early twenties, as far as Clarke can tell from a distance; a bunch of bikini-clad girls and lanky guys in board shorts hanging off one another as music blasts.

She sighs inwardly. Grits her teeth and refrains from giving them the middle finger while they whoop and cheer in passing, beer bottles held aloft as they thunder towards the wooden jetty.

So much for the sexy beach idyll. Clearly, not everyone has such reverence for the tranquility of this spot.

“Shall we stay a while or…?” Clarke hedges.

Lexa purses her lips and casts her stormy gaze around, jaw working side to side in rotation, but a gentle touch on her leg pulls her focus back to Clarke.

Consternation softens into regret.

“You didn’t even get a chance to swim or feel the sand between your toes.”

“I’ll cope. Besides…” Clarke wets her lips and drops into a huskier register. “It wasn’t a total bust.”

Lexa’s mouth twitches, clearly fighting a smile, and to Clarke that’s a win.

“Come on, don’t let these pesky teens ruin our hot date,” she continues in a playful tone. “I bet you have a few aces up your sleeve; other favourite haunts to wow the ladies with.”

One shoulder lifts in a slight shrug. “We do have the boat for the rest of the day. I could take you somewhere else. For lunch, if you’re hungry yet?”

Clarke gives a noncommittal hum, lightly trailing her wet fingers along the soft skin of Lexa’s inner thigh. “I could eat.”

The suggestive undertone isn’t lost in translation. Their eyes meet and Clarke dares to make it explicit.

“But lunch wasn’t what I had in mind… unless we’re counting pussy as a food group.”

Lexa loses the battle against keeping her smile under control. The tips of her ears are tinged pink. “Are Americans always so forward?”

“Um, I don’t recall any shyness on your part two nights ago.”

Dainty little ears burn brightly while Lexa’s smile grows, becoming toothier, and Clarke just wants to smooch that perfect face all day long.

“Anyway, I prefer the term ‘go-getter.’ As in, I see someone I want and I go get her.”

A pained groan. “I should leave you stranded on the beach for that.”

“Hey!” Clarke swats at Lexa’s knee in retaliation, but Lexa catches her hand, holding it captive. Clarke sniffs for dramatic effect. “I was going to let you strip me out of this bathing suit later, but now I’m strongly reconsidering.”

“If it helps sway your decision, I’d definitely appreciate seeing you naked again.”

“And how would you show your gratitude?”

“Mm. At least three times, and maybe twice more with the strap if you’re into toys.”

God.

“Okay. Alright. Well, lucky for you, I’m kind of dying for you to fuck me so I guess that clinches it.”

It’s about as far from playing it cool as could be, but Clarke doesn’t care. The truth is she’s soaked, aching for relief, and she isn’t picky about whichever method Lexa might use to get her off, as long as it happens soon.

Eyes flashing dark, Lexa cups a hand behind Clarke’s neck and pulls her mouth to hers. Clarke reacts without thought, already opening up to accept the slide of Lexa’s tongue before her brain catches up and she remembers they’re not alone.

Cracking an eye open, she’s relieved to see nobody on the other boat appears to be paying them any attention. She attempts to evade the next kiss, only for Lexa to pursue it more doggedly, and that makes Clarke smile even as she lays a palm on Lexa’s chest to gently hold off her advance. The mini pout on Lexa’s face when they pull apart is a treat, and Clarke can’t conceal her enjoyment of it. Unable to resist the lure, she steals one final peck.

For a few indulgent seconds, she luxuriates in the softness of Lexa’s full bottom lip, until it dawns on her that an hour-long return journey stands between them and more orgasms, and she sighs.

“Why isn’t teleportation a real thing yet? Having to wait a full 60 minutes to get you under me is so unfair.”

Slowly, with the greatest delicacy and patience, Lexa brushes their noses together, one side then the other, nudging the tip before she withdraws. Despite the sun beating down on her back, it gives Clarke chills, shivers running down her neck and arms. For the duration she just holds still and melts while her stomach flips, and the butterflies that had lain dormant return in full force.

When she opens her eyes, she’s greeted by the slight, sloping smile on Lexa’s lips and her stomach does another somersault.

“I’m starting to think you’re only interested in me for sex,” Lexa says lightly.

Clarke lets out a small scoff. “You’re the one with a one-track mind. I was minding my own business, soaking up the rays, until you pounced.”

“Can you blame me?”

Lexa’s heated stare roves over several inches of cleavage before she forcibly drags her eyes back up.

“Actually… I have a confession to make.” She draws that plush bottom lip, still slightly swollen and red from kissing, between her teeth. “I dropped a tray of drinks at work yesterday because I had a flashback to you sitting on my face. Anya yelled at me and I didn’t even give a fuck that she deducted it from my tips.”

Heat rises in Clarke’s cheeks, triggered by her own vivid recollection of events. She won’t forget it in a hurry and she’s flattered to hear it was just as memorable for Lexa too. But also, it feels like a point of pride that she made Lexa’s cool girl veneer slip, even if she wasn’t there to witness it in person.

“Now I feel partly responsible for this tragic loss of earnings and broken glassware.”

“I said you were trouble.”

They inch closer, eyes glued to lips, their breath hot on one another’s faces.

“How can I make it up to you?” Clarke asks.

“I have some ideas.”

Her mind can’t help going to the aforementioned strap.

All smiles, they surrender to the magnetic pull. The world around them recedes. There’s only Lexa’s mouth on hers, soft yet urgent, and the tingles that erupt all over, Clarke’s pulse accelerating when long fingers thread into her hair again.

And it’s sublime.

Close to perfection.

She can almost hear the swell of imaginary violins soundtracking the moment—until a smattering of shrill wolf whistles pierces through the bliss.

The kiss breaks on a huff of shared, quiet laughter. Clarke’s eyes slide across to the jetty, where they’re being enthusiastically toasted by their neighbours. She groans and drops her forehead to Lexa’s shoulder, breathing in the saltwater, sun-warmed scent of her before showing her face again.

“I believe that’s our cue to leave,” Clarke says.

The long, lidded look Lexa favours her with, eyes shaded darker by desire and the hint of some deeper emotion that feels altogether too big, too soon to acknowledge, has Clarke battling the urge to launch herself at Lexa’s lips again, regardless of the unwanted spectators nearby.

“Keep that up, Lex, and they might really have something to holler about—and possibly livestream on the internet.”

A faint smile reappears. “What am I doing, Clarke?”

“Looking. Giving me those” - she gestures vaguely - “eyes.”

It loosens a small laugh. Lexa lowers her gaze and Clarke regrets mentioning it now, because it feels like the sun momentarily disappearing behind the clouds when Lexa’s thrilling, singular focus isn’t on her.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Lexa looks up, and the restored eye contact makes Clarke’s blood pump faster.

She lets out the breath she was holding. “Maybe I like it more than I should, considering.”

“Considering…?”

“I won’t be here next week.”

Pragmatic; matter-of-fact. A reality check and a casual reminder they both need to hear before they throw themselves headlong into… whatever this thing is between them: it has an expiration date.

In the lull, Lexa scans every millimetre of Clarke’s face and she hopes the nerves don’t show through the front she’s putting on.

After a moment, the corner of Lexa’s mouth lifts into a smirk, but it seems slightly forced. Her eyes are more pebbly, neutral grey than green. “Then let’s make sure you have good memories to take home with you.”

#vacation au #cool for the summer #clexa fic #my fic

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candycandy00 · 1 month

Note

CANDYYY!! Congratulations on 2k followers!! You deserve every single one of them!! 💕💕

I saw the build your own fanfic adventure and you know I have to get in on this soooooooo:

Character: Dabi (what a surprise there 😂)

AU setting: Honestly I'm so stuck between Gothic Mansion and Monster Forest, I'll let you decide!!

Spice level: screw it let's go all the way, NSFW bb

Mood: I'll leave it up to you! You know me, I could go either way!

Kink: ugh I'll indulge a little today, Breeding/Daddy kink (sometimes I like being taken care of, you know?? 😂😂)

Have fun my love! 😘 Can't wait to read Choso's chapter!!

Waxwork - A Dabi x Reader Fanfic

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Dabi as a werewolf. Dabi as a vampire. Light vampire-related blood. Rough sex. Breeding. Oral sex. Heavily inspired by the 1988 horror film “Waxwork”.

This ended up a lot longer than I planned but I hope you like it, babe!

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! Any feedback is loved! Dividers by @benkeibear.

You’ve always loved wax museums, so when a new one opened up in town, you just had to visit on opening day. You walk through the doors, noting sadly that there isn’t a very big crowd. After looking through the “historical figures” and “celebrities” sections, you wander into the “fictional characters” area.

There are highly detailed wax figures lovingly made to recreate various famous scenes from novels and movies. A large portion of them are horror, and so you feel a chill down your spine as you notice you’re the only visitor in this section.

Some of the wax figures look so realistic, you find yourself staring at them to make sure they’re not moving. You walk around, looking at the displays, before stopping at one that fascinates you.

The scene looks like the interior of a cabin in the woods. There are even fake trees outside the windows. The “room” is lit by a fireplace. Near the door, there’s a young man bent backwards in what appears to be agony, in the midst of a transformation. He has messy white hair, and half his body is covered in white fur, giving the illusion that the fur is spreading. His dark clothes are ripped, and he’s clutching his head with his hands, one of them tipped with razor sharp claws. His eyes, so bright blue that they seem to glow, are staring upwards. You imagine he’s staring at a full moon.

Also in the display is a young woman in a ragged dress, recoiling from him in horror. Strangely, she resembles you. Her build is the same as yours, as well as her hair. But with her face so twisted by fear, you can’t really tell if that resembles yours too.

Your eyes keep being drawn back to the man, to the fine white fur that looks like crushed velvet. You want to touch it, to feel it beneath your fingertips. And his eyes… so beautiful.

Wait… did his eyes just move? For a fraction of a second, you thought his eyes flicked down to your face. But surely you imagined it. You laugh nervously, deciding you’ve been looking at this display for too long.

You move quickly to the next display, this one looking like the ornate dining room of a gothic castle. Sitting at the table in a beautiful Victorian style dress is a young woman who looks almost identical to the one from the previous display. Which means she looks just like you. Her hair is pinned up in an intricate style, and her dress is way too immodest to be historically accurate. It’s an off the shoulder design that is extremely low cut, exposing way more cleavage than was probably common in the Victorian era.

The young woman is holding a steak knife in her hand, and has apparently cut her finger on it by accident, as a shiny drop of red “blood” is made to look as if it’s dripping down her hand. But the most interesting part of this display is the man standing behind her, like a predator.

You draw in a sharp breath as you look at him, realizing with a tinge of alarm that he’s the same as the man from the werewolf display, with slight differences. This one has black hair, and is wearing a black Victorian suit with a cape. He also has scars covering the lower half of his face. But those eyes… those lovely blue eyes… they’re the same. There’s a look of hunger in them as he leans over the woman, staring at the drop of blood. You look at the blood too, trying to imagine why he finds it so compelling.

Oh, he must be a vampire! You almost laugh at yourself for being so slow to realize it. You casually glance back up at his face, and your breath catches in your throat.

He’s looking straight at you. Not at the drop of blood, but at you.

Your heart pounds furiously as you stare at him, locked in his gaze. This time you’re certain. His eyes moved! You know for a fact he was looking at the woman’s hand before! So why is he looking into your eyes now?

This must be some kind of trick or gimmick, you tell yourself, trying to calm down. Maybe the wax figure has some sort of mechanized feature that makes his eyes move, as a way to excite the visitors. Or, judging by how realistic he looks, maybe he’s an actor! The possibility makes you feel quite silly.

You back away, suddenly eager to leave this section of the museum, but your back collides with something and your body bounces forward, causing you to stumble over the velvet rope cordoning off the display and fall directly into it. You close your eyes and brace for the impact of the floor, but instead you black out.

When your eyes snap open, you’re sitting at the fancy table in the dining room. There’s a plate of delicious looking food in front of you and a steak knife in your hand. A single drop of blood is sliding down your index finger. You look in front of you, where the rope should be, but it’s not there. In fact, the rest of the museum is gone! You really are in a complete dining room!

All at once you remember the other occupant of the room, and you slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder. Leaning over you is the very beautiful, very alive, vampire with the black hair and the scars.

“Did you cut yourself? Are you okay?” he asks. You expected his voice to be more smooth and formal, given his attire, but he sounds like any random guy you go to college with.

You’re not sure what to say, wondering if this is a dream or not. Did you hit your head when you fell?

The man grabs your hand, firmly but not harshly, and pulls it up to his face to examine it. “Looks like a small cut,” he says, then wraps his scarred lips around your finger, his tongue lapping gently at the blood.

You’re so transfixed that you don’t think to pull your hand away until he’s finished. His eyes move over you, and you’re suddenly very aware of how obscenely low cut your dress is. You stand up from the table and look around, still hoping to see the rest of the museum somewhere. But it’s just not there.

“Not running off, are you?” the man asks, a hint of a grin on his face. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone for dinner.” His tongue runs over his lips as he says it, making your face flush with heat.

“Um, I’m not really sure where I am,” you say, your back against the edge of the table.

He steps closer to you. “You’re in my home, doll, and we’re about to have dessert.”

You feel paralyzed as he gets closer and closer, until his body is pressed against yours. He’s taller than you, probably a little older, but he’s fucking gorgeous.

Maybe this is a dream. Maybe it’s a concussion-induced hallucination. But whatever it is, you might as well enjoy it.

You reach up and wrap your arms around him as he lifts you up and sits you on the table, the plates and silverware magically gone. His mouth is on your neck, licking along a vein before you feel a sharp pain. He’s biting you! The pain is intense for a few moments, and then disappears, replaced by a feeling of euphoria. You can feel his teeth tearing at your delicate skin, can feel his tongue gliding along the wound, but it doesn’t hurt at all now. You only feel warm and aroused, listening to the sensual sucking sounds as he devours your blood.

He lies you back on the table and pulls away from your neck. His mouth is sticky and red. He pulls the top of your dress down, freeing your breasts, and then his hands and mouth are upon them, squeezing and licking.

You moan, clutching his shoulders, opening your legs ever wider as his body presses to you. Eventually he reaches down and rips the skirt of your dress right up the middle, clearing himself a path to your panties and exposing your white garter belt and stockings. He tears the panties away and bends down, running his tongue along your heated, damp flesh. You arch your back, ridiculously turned on by the idea of a vampire eating you out. His tongue, still wet with your blood, circles your clit, driving you to madness.

When you’re right on the edge of climax, he stops and pulls away, opening his pants to the sounds of your panting. “Gonna be a good girl for me?” he asks, sliding his hand up and down his hard, pleasingly large shaft.

“Yes! I’ll be so good!” you breathe out, locking your legs around his body, pulling him closer.

He grins as he shoves himself into you, licking your blood from his lips. His thrusts are deep, intimate, and hit your sweet spot just perfectly. “Ahh… feels so good…” you cry.

You want to moan his name, but you have no idea what it is.

“That’s it,” he says with a grunt, thrusting deeper, “taking me so well!”

Fuck it. Just go with the vibes.

“Harder, Daddy!”

He looks down at you, momentarily surprised, but then he laughs and fucks you harder than you’ve ever been fucked before.

You were already on the edge of cumming, and now you’re pushed over the edge by the way his tip hits your cervix, making you bounce off the table. You cum while clenching his cock.

Just before he releases his seed inside you, painting your womb in his color, he leans forward and bites your neck again. There’s that brief searing pain again, contrasting so deliciously with the pleasure rippling through you as his cock pulses in your body.

He pulls away, licking his lips again and pulling you up to your feet by your hand, like a gentleman. You’re in a daze as he leads you to the door of the room. “Thanks, doll. I haven’t had any visitors in a long time. Hopefully I’ll see you in the next one.”

“Next one?” you ask, confused as you walk through the door.

You find yourself back in the museum, standing in front of the vampire display. But it looks different now. The woman sitting at the table doesn’t look like you anymore, instead having plain, almost blank features. And the man, the vampire, is standing up straight, looking right at you, a subtle grin on his bloody lips.

Startled, you step back and touch your hand to your neck. You can feel the puncture wounds, the slick blood trickling out.

Was… was that real?

Somewhat delirious, you stagger away, and end up stumbling right into another display. This time you blink and you’re in the cabin in the woods. You’re the girl in the torn dress, cowering in fear of the white haired man who is turning into a werewolf before your very eyes.

He looks at you through his agony as his body transforms, and you can see the recognition in his eyes.

“Oh fuck, not this one!” he says, trying to move away from you. “Run! Get… to the edge… of the forest! Hurry!”

“What’s happening!?” you scream. “How did I even get here?”

“It’s the museum!” he shouts, clutching his head in pain. “Listen, you have to run! I can’t… control this form! I go fucking feral!”

You stand there, frozen, watching the soft white fur spread across his lean body, the claws on his hands get longer, the teeth in his much wider mouth become large and sharp. Two white furry ears even grow out of the top of his head.

“Feral, you say?” The question rolls off your tongue. Watching him writhe in pain as his body changes is… actually kind of hot.

He looks at you, blue eyes wild, and he seems to understand what you want. The transformation is complete. He stands before you much taller than before, covered head to toe in that lovely white fur. There’s a primal feel to the way he looks at you. Animalistic. Predatory.

Either he’s going to rip you apart or fuck your brains out. You really really hope it’s the latter.

He lunges forward and tackles you to the floor, pushing you face down onto the rug in front of the fireplace. His movements are fast and aggressive, but not too rough. He easily could have killed you already.

With one swipe of his powerful claws, your dress is in tatters, barely clinging to your body in tiny strips that cover nothing. Behind you, he lifts your hips and spreads your thighs, and almost immediately plunges into your slick pussy.

You cry out, gripping the rug in your hands as he begins fucking into you, your bare chest and stomach rubbing against the rug with each thrust. Ah, his cock feels incredible! It’s long and hard, covered in a thin layer of soft velvety fur. As he takes you from behind, he uses one hand to lightly scrape his claws down your back.

“Oh god!” you scream out when one clawed hand reaches around and finds your clit, rubbing and pinching it, making your body tremble. You don’t have to tell him to fuck you harder. You don’t think he possibly could. Your knees are wobbling, barely supporting you, your face is pressed into the rug, your tears seeping into it. You’ve never felt this good in your entire life.

You feel him twitching inside you, and just as you feel his scalding hot cum shoot directly into your womb, you feel your own orgasm wash over you. Moaning and panting, you stay there on the rug, your face buried in it, until he eventually pulls out. By the time you have the energy to roll over and look at him, he’s reverted back to human form.

He’s standing there naked, his white hair damp and hanging in his eyes. He drops down onto the rug beside you, and you scoot closer to him, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“What is this place?” you ask him. “Is this really still the museum?”

The fireplace is roaring behind you, and you can hear the wind blowing through the trees outside the cabin.

“I think every display is its own pocket dimension,” he says. “But fuck if I know how it all works.”

You look at him intently. “Who are you?”

He shrugs. “Just a guy who got stuck here. I came to the museum with some friends a few years ago, stumbled into one of the displays, and got stuck. I stayed inside too long, so now I can’t leave.”

“Why not?” you ask.

“When I finally found the border, the way back to the museum, I stuck one arm out and it instantly turned to wax. As long as I stay in the displays, I’m flesh and blood. But I can move my consciousness around the different dimensions.”

You suddenly feel panicked. “What about me?”

He grins. “You’ll be fine. You haven’t been here nearly long enough. Certain rare people get pulled in, and I always lead them out.”

You meet his gaze for a few moments, then say, “I’ll come back! I’ll visit you as often as I can!”

He gives you a somewhat sad smile. “The museum moves around to different towns. We probably won’t be here for longer than a year.”

“Then I’ll track it down!” you say forcefully, causing him to blink in surprise. “Wherever you go, I’ll find you!”

“I hope so,” he says, then he stands up and heads for the door, opening it. He tosses a blanket to you to cover yourself with and says, “You better get going. Head to the edge of the forest and you’ll be back in the museum.”

You wrap the blanket around yourself as you walk through the door. You stop and look back at him. “What’s your name?”

He smiles. “Touya.”

Minutes later, you’re back in the museum, standing in front of the werewolf display. The man who was once bent back in pain is standing calmly in the cabin now, looking at you without moving. You wave to him before turning to leave. “See you later, Touya!”

#dabi x reader #dabi #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #touya x reader #bnha x reader #dabi smut #dabi x you #x reader #candys2kevent

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bjeinterior · 7 months

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hiremyhusbandsblog · 2 months

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ken-dom · 3 months

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Everything Looks Better When The Sun Goes Down

Driver x afab!reader

3k words

∘₊✧ Summary: Getaways usually come with a strong dose of adrenaline. He can usually deal with it himself, but this time a far more thrilling prospect presents itself.

∘₊✧ Authors notes: I wrote this well over a month ago, and finally decided to dust it off and post, with encouragement from K, with whom the Driver conversation is never-ending and delicious! I would advise caution because he's kinda creepy in this one (compared to how I’ve written him before). Title from Make Me Wanna Die by The Pretty Reckless.

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, dubious consent, masturbation, fingering, sex, glove kink, kissing kink, just a dash of sneaky, creepy, stalker-y Driver

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Driver’s leather-covered fingers tightened with a creak of resistance against the steering wheel. He might know the roads like the back of his hand, but being the getaway driver comes with the occupational hazard of not actually being able to control what your chasers will do, no matter how clever and thorough your plan.

Even if you’ve seen every trick in the book. Even if you have something of a sixth sense for predicting their movements.

Surprises can’t always be avoided, and tonight he was doing his best to get out of a surprise.

This had been just a touch more complicated to plot than his usual getaway routine. Locations hadn’t been quite as simple to pin down so timings would be off and he couldn’t have that. The only alternative was to alter his default plan of action only very slightly, yet the risks, apparently, tripled.

Or maybe Driver had just been unlucky.

He had kicked out the two masked men he had been hired to drive, easily getting rid of them en route as part of the plan, sticking to time down to the second, and then embarking on the more unusual part two, which simply required Driver to get himself away and hide the car somewhere different to where he’d hidden them. The route was meticulously added to his map, the hiding spots checked, double and triple checked, ahead of time.

Yet, despite the police radio suggesting they’d lost sight of tonight’s unassuming car of choice, the cops had picked back up, hot on Driver’s trail the moment he pulled back out onto the main streets.

He didn’t bat an eyelid at first. He knew what he was doing, after all; this wasn’t his first car chase by a long stretch. If he wanted to ‘wing it,’ he could. Easily. But he would never. He would simply go about the bulletproof backup plan designed for the event that this unlikely situation would come to fruition. All was fine.

Except that he really couldn’t seem to shake them. Every move he made, it was as though they’d read his mind and were one step ahead. It wouldn’t have been possible, but it was as if they somehow seen his detailed maps. They were only for his eyes though, and if anyone ever did see them… well. He would have to make it so that they remained only for his eyes.

Whatever was going on here, it seemed almost like someone was out to get him personally. His jaw clenched at the thought and his heart began to slam against his chest, breathing fast and ragged.

He tried to refocus. On the road, on the soft interior of his jacket against his arms. On the toothpick almost chewed in two between his teeth.

There were limited options at this point, and he was running out of ideas, running out of streets to slip down before they could predict his next action.

Driver firmly reminded himself to stick to the facts and ignore his physical response. He was still ahead. Just.

Actually, he was nearing your house. Oh…

No.

He shouldn’t distract himself, but it was hard not to notice that he’d pulled onto your street almost by muscle memory alone and he wondered if you’d see him, followed by that one police car that he was sure would soon be two, then three, sirens blazing.

It was darker down here. Residential, with parked cars dotted up and down the road, canopied with large leafy trees that blocked out the moonlight, too. So he killed his headlights and slowed down to avoid attracting any additional unwanted attention.

His ears pricked up as the discussion on the radio started up again in place of relaying the names of the streets they were chasing him down; they’d lost him again.

Just like last time they lost him. But they had found him as soon as he resurfaced, and he couldn’t sit out here on your street all night in plain view, no matter how unsuspecting the car may look to your neighbours.

A little blue Honda rattled by and he flinched.

Come on. Get a grip, he scolded himself.

His head began to pound.

He needed to find somewhere new to hide the car properly, and hide himself while he was at it. Fast. Somewhere he could stay for long enough that they’d really give up this time.

Another thought struck him and he blinked hard. He had to regain some self control. But your house was approaching on the right.

He couldn’t. Could he?

His eyes scanned the street. There were no other Hondas. No other moving vehicles. He couldn’t see anyone peering out of their windows into the dark street.

Then he found the end of your driveway, visible in the near distance. Your garage door was up. No car. You were out. Perfect.

No. He couldn’t.

Fuck. He was going to have to.

Besides, if anything did come of this, he could keep you safe. He was sure of that. No harm would ever come to you on his watch. Ever.

He slowly pulled onto your driveway and rolled the car to a gentle stop inside the garage, winding down the driver side window to punch the button on the wall that controlled the garage door. With a low hum and a light clicking, it swung down and locked into place with a soft clunk.

Complete darkness. The purr of the engine. And then, the crackle of the police radio.

Driver tensed, every bit of focus honed in on the voices coming through the small device.

With a note of three identifiable items: the car colour, model and number plate (two of which could easily be altered), and a reminder of where it was last seen (the next street along from this one), they’d officially given up the chase.

He relaxed into his seat, slumping down and stretching his long legs as far as they could lengthen in the confinement of the footwell, spreading his knees and dropping his head back against the headrest.

He would need to stay here for now, but that was manageable.

He killed the engine, trying to force his breath even and steady himself before he got out.

Although it had been tough, now it was over, he couldn’t deny that it had been exciting. There was rarely a time it wasn’t.

He felt a stirring in his core, the familiar thrill that ran through his trembling body every time he got away, high on adrenaline and filled with self satisfaction.

And he did get away. Every time. But this time? It had been a closer call than any he could remember and he was shaking, excitement coursing through his veins, sending all his blood south to throb between his spread thighs.

He chuckled, smirking and dropping his hands to his lap from where they were still bracing, tight storing the steering wheel. His breath caught in his throat as one palm slowly teased higher up his thigh.

It was becoming painful to sit here in these too-tight jeans, the denim rough against his leaking cock, and he hissed as he dragged his palm over the thrumming bulge that had formed inside them the moment he knew he was safe.

He felt a particularly thick drop of precum leak from his tip, gasping at the short lived relief his wandering hand had provided, gloved fingers now flying to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans and free his aching length, all patience out the window. It didn’t matter how long it took. He just needed the release.

But as the first button popped undone, his ears pricked up at the unmistakable sound of tires rolling onto your driveway behind that garage door. He froze, heart racing, cock twitching, every sense heightened almost painfully.

He relaxed when he heard your car door slam shut, the sound of your shoes on the gravel. He’d know those sounds anywhere. He knew all the sounds you made – he’d studied you enough – and had an entire catalogue of them stored away safely in the back of his mind.

Hastily, he reached for the radio and flipped the switch back on. Nothing. Nothing about him, anyway. Nothing about you. You were safe even with him locked away inside your garage.

He heard your keys jingling against the lock of your front door, knowing you were inside once it had clicked shut and the jingle was muffled.

He breathed a long, shaky sigh of relief.

Seconds later, his personal cell buzzed from inside his jacket pocket.

One hand resting still against the denim covering his aching hard on, he fished his phone out and unlocked it, absentmindedly rubbing his fingertips over his length and whimpering when he saw your name on the screen above the message you’d sent.

‘Hey, babe… you up?’

Another thick pearl of precum.

Fuck. He could hide in here all night, sexting with you from just the next room, or…

He didn’t bother fastening up his belt or that one button he’d opened when he swung the car door open and jumped out, biting back a moan at the friction of his jeans settling, slightly looser and more comfortable, against his cock as he stood.

He knew where you kept your spare key, and the combination on the safety box that kept it hidden, so he retrieved it and let himself in through the internal garage door that led to your kitchen.

Driver was silent. Barely a sound as he crept through the house, knowing every floorboard and the placement of every piece of furniture down to the millimetre.

The house was dark, which made it easy for him. You’d only switched on one lamp since you returned; the one in the hallway where you still stood, hanging up your jacket and waiting for him to reply.

Your phone laid unlocked on the sideboard, opened to the message you’d sent him as you slipped off your shoes, eagerly awaiting his reply.

‘Come on,’ you breathed needily at your screen, ‘start typing!’ — and Driver swallowed hard.

He stuck to the shadows as he watched you, from the kitchen doorway, careful not to let his breathing turn too heavy, and certainly not above stroking himself over his jeans a couple of times just for the thrill of it.

You threw your shoes in the cupboard and picked up your phone again, checking to see if he was typing yet, and upon seeing that he wasn’t even online right now, you heaved a disappointed breath.

He might not have typed a reply, but he was ready to answer you.

‘I’m up,’ he breathed, hot against the back of your neck and you jumped, but his arms wrapped tight around yours, keeping you from fighting back, and he pulled you close as he breathed you in.

The still-gloved fingers of one of his hands hand toyed with the neckline of your shirt, ghosting around your throat as the other thrust unceremoniously into your jeans and dragged through your folds.

Even with his gloves on, he could tell you were already soaked.

It took you a terrifying moment, but your instinctual fear subsided, quickly replaced with burning arousal when you felt his cock pressing into your back, smelled his familiar scent, felt his glove teasing at your throat.

‘You are up,’ you sighed, reaching behind yourself to snake a hand between your flush bodies and drag your palm over his length in time with the fingers so precisely massaging your clit, and you moaned. Loud.

Driver’s knees felt like they might give out.

‘Mmmh-’ he hummed into your ear, ‘s-stop- fuck-’

You grinned, smug as ever about how easy he was to unravel, and at the wet patch you’d felt seeping through his thick jeans.

Despite the heat rapidly pooling at your core, you didn’t think on it for long, because any coherent thought was immediately pushed out of your mind when his hands left your core and throat, instead gripping your shoulders and spinning you to face him, slamming you back against the wall, his lips crashing onto yours with bruising force.

He pushed a thigh between your legs, pressing firmly against your heat and you moaned, muffled by his mouth as his tongue dragged hungrily against yours. Driver was always such a needy kisser, so passionate and intense and it made your head spin. But this was something else.

You gripped him hard, moaning and writhing against him, and he shuddered at your reaction, whining against your lips before fully pulling away to focus on freeing his cock.

Slightly dizzy, you removed your own trousers as fast as you could, hooking a leg around his waist as he shoved his wet jeans down and pushed forward, lifting you in his strong arms to help you clamp your other leg around his waist.

His eyes slid closed as he felt your slick against his cock, trying with all his might not to spill his release before he’d fucked you. The adrenaline was still so fresh, spurred on by breaking in and sneaking up on you, that he could hear his blood pumping in his ears. He felt almost invincible; but he knew that with just one eager and misguided move he would cum, ending it all too soon.

No. He needed to feel you around him. Feel you clench with need. Hear you scream. Fill you up.

He closed his eyes to refocus.

Now you were pinned between him and the wall, he slipped a hand down to guide himself to your entrance, a simultaneous relieved groan from both of you echoing around your entrance hall as he slid himself inside.

He stilled for a moment, composing himself, forehead pressed to yours because he knew that a kiss, even a soft and tender exchange, would break him.

He also knew that right now, one thrust and it would be over for him, so he moved his fingers up, massaging your clit in slow, precise circles, as though this was all designed purely to give you time to adjust.

Your head dropped back and you squirmed, trying to fuck yourself on him as his fingers sent wave after wave of shuddering bliss through your body. The angle was delicious, but balanced around his waist you couldn’t move enough to get what you needed.

‘Please,’ you begged, ‘fuck me- please-’

Driver growled, low and dark, against your throat. He could never resist giving you exactly what you wanted, and he could feel your walls tightening around him already. A low groan tore from his throat. You were close too.

Sicko, he thought. Like it when I break in and sneak up behind you? Shove a hand in your pants to try and get you off before you even realise it’s me?

Keeping his fingers against your throbbing bundle of nerves, he fucked you alright. Hard and fast and unrelenting, hips snapping frantically as he whimpered and gasped weakly into the thick air filling the inch between your mouths.

It was too late to stop his orgasm approaching. He’d been simmering for too long, and the way you’d kissed him, the way you’d begged him, the way you got wet just from him acting like a creep… his head was spinning.

The way he was fucking you, unceasing and intense, had you clawing at his jacket, wishing he’d taken it off so you could feel more of him, but there was no time. You pushed your fingers up to slide through his soft, neat hair instead, and he shuddered against you, biting down on his bottom lip. His blood boiled.

Fuck it. He smashed his lips back onto yours, tears pricking his eyes.

He finally spilled inside you, cock pulsing through his release. He squeezed his eyes shut, painfully aware you hadn’t cum yet, but his fingers on your clit hadn’t ceased, and as his cock began to soften, sensitive with aftershocks, he felt you clench tight around him. Your fingertips scraped against his scalp and your legs tightened around his waist and you cried out, loud and strangled, bucking your hips wildly as you chased your release.

Driver’s eyes welled with the tears he couldn’t bite back, dropping onto your shirt.

As you came down from your high, you stroked his hair back into place and slipped down from your position, standing on wobbly legs, head spinning, and Driver propped himself up with an arm against the wall, caging you in.

Your palm grazed his cheek, a tender thumb wiping his tears away.

He leant into your touch, eyes closed and breath slowing all the while.

‘So it was you who closed my garage door?’ you whispered, and he nodded against your palm. ‘Naughty boy,’ you added, teasing.

He looked up at you through the most stunning, sparkling, wet eyes and you knew you’d never stay mad for long – especially not when he fucked you so good and unravelled for you so easily.

‘Been on a job, baby?’ you cooed.

He nodded against your palm again.

‘Gonna jerk off in my garage until I arrived home and ruined the moment?’

Driver stiffened, eyes wide as he considered you, awed at the way you understood how his mind worked. Against his better judgement, he nodded, slowly.

‘Filthy boy,’ you added with a playful smirk. ‘Glad you found me instead, though.’

‘Yeah?’ he managed, weak and quiet, voice cracking.

‘Yeah. I fucking love it when you try so hard not to cum right away.’

His brow furrowed, but you hooked your fingers under his chin and lifted his gaze back to you, softly pressing your lips to his once again.

He whimpered, feeling weak, but he needed this more than anything after the rush. He was crashing, fast and needed comfort. Safety.

‘Wanna get into bed and make out until we fall asleep?’

Driver’s heart skipped, and he nodded again. It wasn’t always a bad thing to feel like someone was reading his mind.

#not s f w 💀#driver x reader #driver smut #drive 2011 #drive (2011)#ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling #drive fic #driver x reader fic #drive smut #driver x you #driver x y/n #driver x reader smut #ryan gosling x y/n #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling fic #ryan gosling smut #ken-dom writes

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starsstuddedsky · 2 years

Text

Blown Up Love

reader x wonwoo

summary: gaming is all fun and... well, games, until you start crushing on the only person that takes pity on you and saves you from mobs.

genre: fluff, university au, gamer!wonwoo

warnings: swearing, death (but it's fake)

wc: 7.1k

a/n: i wrote this so long ago i forgot all my jokes - i haven't played minecraft in forever but i imagine playing with wonwoo would be so much fun - there will be a bonus eventually bc this somehow isn’t enough fluff for me

You run as fast as you can, hearing the groans behind you, a constant reminder of what followed not far behind you. You swerve to the side as another monster appears in front of you, a flash of white and the cracking of bones snapping against each other. You can’t help but scream as you hear a twang and realize that you’ve been shot.

“Are you really leaving me like this?” You cry, praying one of your friends will take pity on you.

“Don’t you have armor?” Jihoon asks. “Why didn’t you make a weapon?”

“I just wanted to hide underground, I didn’t realize it was night time already!” You scream as you take another hit, trying to dodge trees and what feels like hundreds of monsters converging on you. “I'm literally outside the base, can someone please come help me?”

“You’re so dramatic,” Seungcheol says. You don’t have to see him to know he’s rolling his eyes.

“I’m about to die!” Your hands are shaking. You know that one more hit means death.

You can see the light of the base, your last hope. If you can just make it a little bit farther, maybe you’ll make it. A figure moves toward you in the darkness and you instinctively turn away, though a moment later you’re sprinting toward it because you realize that it’s not a monster but one of your friends. Wonwoo.

“Wow, you were not kidding, there’s so many,” he says. He charges in front of you, practically glowing in diamond armor. No, literally glowing. When had he enchanted his armor?

You can hear him slaughter them behind you as you make a last ditch effort to make it inside. Just before you can open the door you hear another whizz, and something slams into. Everything turns red

Respawn or return to main menu.

You stare at the screen.

“I got your stuff,” Wonwoo says, voice as calm and even as ever. You sigh and click respawn.

“Thanks for trying,” you mumble as you return to the game, your character waking up deep inside the base.

“Sorry, I was in the middle of mining so I couldn’t really make it in time,” he says. You meet his character by the entrance to the base. You can’t help but smile at his skin, mostly covered by the glowing armor. You can still pick out the glasses he’d added to his skin, just like the ones he wore in real life, big and as round as he could make them in the pixelated game. You can almost see him in your mind, probably sitting in complete darkness in his room, wearing one of the three sweatshirts he cycled through.

He gives you your items, tossing them in front, then vanishes into the base, probably to return to mining.You thank him again and wander around the interior of the base until you end up in the room you made for yourself. You had spent the last couple days dedicatedly designing the base, carved into the side of a mountain with rooms for all five of your friends to return to and put their stuff in. It was hours of work that was nowhere near being done, but you were enjoying every second of the rather monotonous work.

What made you even happier was that your friends were actually using the rooms you set aside for them, each of them designing it a little to their own tastes. You might be absolutely terrible at fighting mobs, but you could at least build, and it felt nice that they weren’t totally disregarding that. Even if Wonwoo was the only one who would help you when you inevitably had to face the mobs.

“Yn, are you still in the base?” Wonwoo asks. When you say yes, he asks you to meet him in the main entrance.

You find him waiting, feeling inferior in your iron armor. He tosses you something. When you pick it up, you find out it’s an enchanted pickaxe, complete with unbreaking, mending, and fortune.

“I figured it might be easier to work on this if you have, like, actually good tools.”

“Thank you?” You can’t say you’re not surprised by Wonwoo’s generosity. You don’t know him very well. He’s Mingyu’s friend, and though you’ve hung out with all five of the guys many times this semester, he tended to be quieter and you weren’t convinced he didn’t hate you. Still, he was the only one on the server that didn’t bully you.

“When did you get enchants,” you ask as you both go your separate ways. It’s finally daytime outside, so you deem it safe to continue working on the farm you were trying to design along the edge of the base.

“It was pretty easy once I finished the villager farm,” he says. “Though I haven’t gotten around to reviving villagers to get cheap enchants. It’s on the list.”

You frown as you climb the side of the mountain halfway up and continue designing what would hopefully be a sprawling pumpkin patch. “How did you have the time for that?”

“I haven’t exactly logged off,” he says.

“We started the server two days ago!”

“It’s fall break,” he says. “I didn’t want to waste my time.”

“I fear you.”

“Hey, you guys are aware there are other people in this voice chat, right?” Mingyu says.

“Shut up,” you say.

“Get a room,” he says, pretending to cough.

You can feel the blush spreading across your cheeks. It wasn’t that you had a crush on Wonwoo. He was just tall, and objectively attractive, and really nice, and smart, and he had saved your life more than once. Okay, maybe it was a small crush.

“Can we set a time to kill the ender dragon,” Seungcheol asks. “I’m getting blaze rods right now.”

“Okay, I think I have enough ender pearls,” Wonwoo says. “Want to try tonight?”

“You are aware it’s already almost nine, right?” You say.

“It’ll take like two minutes with all of us,” Jihoon says.

“I’ll text Jeonghan and see if he wants to join,” Mingyu says.

“I’m guessing no one cares that I’m not ready at all,” you grumble.

“It’s not our fault you care more about picking flowers than playing the game,” Seungcheol says.

“Hey! I have not been playing with flowers! I am an integral part of this server, if it weren’t for me you all would be living in dirt shacks!”

“Yeah, but we’d still have diamond armor,” Jihoon says.

“Why don’t you just ask Wonwoo for some armor.” Mingyu snickers. “I’m sure he can afford to support you.”

You’re glad that it’s just a voice chat because otherwise you’d never hear the end of their teasing.

“I do have an extra set of armor,” Wonwoo says. “Also, I have a ton of leftover books from enchanting that you guys should use.”

“Maybe you have spent too much time on this,” Mingyu says.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“You’re an English major,” Mingyu says. “Don’t you have an essay or some books to read?”

He laughs. “If you can find an English major that actually reads, I’ll log off.”

“Do not log off until we’ve beaten the dragon!” Seungcheol says.

“We could do it without him,” Mingyu says.

“Sure you could,” Wonwoo says. “Yn, are you getting the armor or not?”

You’ve been working on the farm outside, but as the sun starts to set, you begin to go back inside the base, not wanting a repeat of the previous night. “I’ll just die if I go with. Can’t I just stay and work on the base?”

“Nope, you have to come,” Mingyu says. “Server rules.”

“You can’t just make up rules on the spot,” you say.

“ Jeonghan is coming, so no excuses.”

You groan, knowing there’s no way out of it now. Jeonghan had joined exactly once, decided he was bored because Jihoon wouldn’t make him a “god” and hadn’t been on since. But it seemed like Mingyu was going to dictate friendship rules through Minecraft, so you were stuck.

“Here,” Wonwoo says, appearing in the halfway-finished room that you made for yourself. He tosses you a full set of armor, and when you pick it up you find that it has full enchants. He must not have been lying about spending his entire break on this game.

“I owe you!” You say. “Pretty much all I own is cobblestone and seeds but I will return this armor with only, like, minimal damage.”

“Unless you fall into the void,” Seungcheol said.

“Don’t even joke about that!” You say.

Wonwoo laughs, his deep voice almost melodic. “You’re just scared because it’s a very real possibility.”

“Not you bullying me, too,” you say, switching out the armor. “I thought you were on my side.”

“I am,” he says. “And honestly if you really do fall into the void it’s fine, I can make a new set in probably ten minutes. Probably less.”

“Can we make a rule about flirting in the main voice chat?” Seungcheol asks.

“Fine, Wonwoo, join me in VC-2,” you say. Your heart is pounding a little as you pause the game and switch voice chats. It’s painfully quiet for two seconds as you wait but finally you hear the ding of someone joining you.

“I’ll pay you real money to kill Seungcheol,” you say.

Wonwoo is quiet for a moment. “Right now?”

“Okay my bank account is a little empty, but next week I can buy you lunch?” You say.

“Are you… hiring me as a hitman?” He asks.

“Yes?”

“Two lunches and it’s a deal.”

“Done.”

You switch back to the main voice chat, and hear the second half of Mingyu explaining that there is no way you are bold enough to actually be flirting. You hate that he’s right.

“Back so soon?” Mingyu asks, cutting himself off mid-sentence. “Seungcheol, you owe me five dollars.”

“I really just live in your head rent free, huh?” You say. “Making bets on me now?”

“Actually, the bet was about the enchants that Wonwoo just gave me,” Mingyu says. “None of us believed you were actually flirting, but feel free to keep that inflated ego of yours.”

You wonder if you’re going to be able to stop embarrassing yourself in front of Wonwoo. With Mingyu and Seungcheol around, probably not.

The voice chat is mostly quiet as everyone goes to their own individual tasks. You are back to developing the farm (during the day). Jihoon and Mingyu are mining together and chatting about their spring schedule, while Seungcheol says he’s still getting blaze rods because he wants to make potions. Wonwoo is silent.

You are starting to think he was giving up, when suddenly Seungcheol shouts. “Hey, what the hell?”

“What’s wrong?” Wonwoo asks.

“Something is shooting me.” He curses.

“A blaze?” You ask, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as giddy as you feel.

“No, what the fuck, it’s coming out of nowhere.”

You’re struggling to stifle your laughter.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna die,” Seungcheol says. “I’m actually gonna die what the fuck, I’m at two hearts, where is this coming from? I’m actually dying, I-”

kkakkamori was killed by VvWonwoovV.

“What the fuck, Wonwoo?”

“Nothing personal,” he says as you finally burst into laughter. “Just doing business.”

“You just killed me!”

“I got your stuff,” he says.

“Keep talking shit about me and I’ll make sure you never see a day of peace,” you say, cackling at Seungcheol’s curses. You can hear Mingyu and Jihoon laughing, too. You wonder how many lunches it would cost to take them out.

“I won’t forget this,” Seungcheol says. “I’ll get revenge.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Wonwoo says.

“I can’t believe you killed me,” he says again. “Were you invis?”

“Yeah, I used some arrows of harming and spectral arrows, too, just in case.”

“Dude, you killed me in like five shots.”

“Okay, Wonwoo is no longer allowed to be hired as a hitman,” Mingyu announces. “It’s not fair.”

“Hey! Can’t I choose how to sell my services?” Wonwoo asks.

“Was it worth betraying me?” Seungcheol pretends to be hurt. “How much did my life cost?”

“Two sandwiches,” you answer.

“I’ll never forgive you.”

You laugh, and then smile even more when you see Wonwoo has texted you a smiley face.

Me: Good job, partner, you send him.

Wonwoo: Just doing good business.

You turn back to your computer. There’s still another hour until Jeonghan could get on to beat the ender dragon, and it occurs to you that you’ve been playing for nearly four hours. You tell the guys you are going to come back later, signing off and getting out of your chair and stretching.

You check your phone as it dings.

Wonwoo: don’t forget to refill your water!

You frown. You must have mentioned it to him while playing. You grab your water bottle, trying not to overthink the fact that he remembered when even you forgot. The more time you spend around Wonwoo, the harder it is to deny how lovely he is.

You stare at the options. You wish Wonwoo hadn’t trusted you to get him something, or that you could have remembered to ask him what he likes, at least what he dislikes.

You finally choose a BLT and a chicken sandwich and pray he isn’t vegetarian. You scout a table out and snag it, laying your backpack across the seats opposite you to save them. A few minutes later, you see Wonwoo making his way through the crowd of people filling up the dining hall. As he gets closer, you see Jeonghan and Jihoon at his sides. You tell yourself you didn’t notice them because Wonwoo is so much taller. No other reason.

You wave them over, grabbing your backpack as they slide into the seats, Jeonghan next to you while Wonwoo sat directly across from you. You point to the sandwiches. He frowns but ends up picking the chicken sandwich.

You slap Jeonghan’s hand away from the BLT. “That’s my lunch!”

“Why does Wonwoo get one, then?”

“It’s his payment,” you say, picking up your sandwich.

“You’re telling me Seungcheol hasn’t whined about his murder to you yet?” Jihoon asks.

“You know, I sort of tune him out when he starts talking about Minecraft,” Jeonghan says.

“He is being a little dramatic about it,” you say.

“You can’t say anything, you're the one that ordered a hit on him,” Jihoon said. “I’d watch your back.”

“It’s a video game!” You say.

“You know Seungcheol,” Jeonghan says. “He can hold a grudge when he wants to.”

Seungcheol and Jeonghan were your first friends in college. Technically you went to high school with them, but you didn’t really become friends until last year, when the three of you somehow ended up at the same school.

That’s how you know Jeonghan was exactly right. You glance around, suddenly worried that he was going to appear and exact his revenge in the middle of the dining hall.

“Was it worth it?” Jeonghan asks Wonwoo, who is somehow almost finished with the sandwich.

Wonwoo shrugs. “I’m not going to lie, the sandwich was a little subpar.” He checks his watch, then nudges you with his foot. “We’re going to be late to lab.”

You groan. “Why did we let Mingyu convince us to take this horrible class with him?”

He laughs as you stand up and follow him, grabbing your half eaten sandwich and waving goodbye to Jihoon and Jeonghan. As you walk beside him, you realize this is the first time you’ve been alone with him since you realized your tiny crush. Trying to match pace with his long stride is even more difficult when you are also trying very hard not to think about the way his arms hang on his sides, the way his hands are so close to yours and how easy it would be to slip your fingers in with his. Luckily he seems to notice you struggling to keep up because he starts taking smaller steps. So sweet.

“So was the sandwich really that bad?” You ask.

“It’s campus food,” he says. “It’s never good.”

“That’s true.”

He glances at you, glasses glinting in the sunlight. “I’m not sure I can really count it as payment.”

You freeze. “This is extortion! I’ve paid you for your services, you can’t demand more!”

“I don’t think that’s what extortion means.” He says. “And I’m not saying the sandwich doesn’t count. Just, maybe, a better second payment.”

“You’re going to make me go broke,” you say. “Well, more broke.”

He laughs. “Nothing expensive.” He holds the door to the science building open for you and you try not to read into it.

“What about the café? It’s better than the dining hall,” you say, heading into the stairwell. You catch a glimpse of a grimace across his face as you turn up the stairs. “What is it?”

“Jihoon’s ex works there and apparently being friends with him means that I’m hated too.”

You snort.

“What is it?”

“I can’t believe Jihoon dated before I did.”

“It surprises us all,” Wonwoo says. “Though I’d barely call it dating. They broke up after a week because Jihoon is Jihoon and realized his feelings were just superficial and no one really takes it well but his ex… It’s safe to say we mostly just avoid the café on principle.”

“Noted,” you say. You’re in the hallway outside the classroom now. You really don’t want to go inside, because, seriously, why do three hour long classes exist? Chatting with Wonwoo was an added bonus to avoiding the torture. You idle outside a couple minutes longer but you really are in danger of being late and Wonwoo is starting to look antsy.

You finally step inside, waving at Mingyu who is already sitting at the table. He’s grinning, as he always is.

Mingyu was the reason you really had friends. Though you knew Seungcheol and Jeonghan in high school, it was only because of Mingyu that the friendship lasted past your first semester, hanging out with them throughout the spring semester, keeping in touch with them over the summer, and even taking a class with Mingyu.

Mingyu is the reason you ever met Wonwoo, and, sitting in class and definitely paying attention to the lab introduction and not staring at the back of Wonwoo’s head, you can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

You can’t remember who suggested it first, but it was Jihoon who ended up making the server, the first day of fall break. It practically belonged to Wonwoo now, since he was by far the person that played the most. You have no idea how he finds the time to play and do his work and sleep, but every time you log on, he has something shiny and new.

It has been two weeks since the server started. You spent too much of fall break playing and generally leeching off of Wonwoo, but have only logged on a couple times since then. It’s Friday, though, and you even did one of your readings, so you feel like you can afford to spend a few hours working on the base. You aren’t surprised when you log in and Wonwoo is on.

You’re prepared to play on your own, but Wonwoo asks if you want to join a voice chat and there’s no way you’ll say no.

“It’s been so lonely,” Wonwoo says as soon as you join. “No one ever plays.”

“It’s like we’re college students,” you say. You wander around the base, deciding you would keep working on designing the interior with the new types of wood that someone “anonymously” gifted you (you knew it was Wonwoo).

“The trick is to not do anything until the last possible second,” Wonwoo says.

“I can’t say that sounds appealing to me,” you say. “What are you doing right now, anyways?”

“Just prepping for my next project,” Wonwoo says.

“That sounds vaguely suspicious, should I be concerned?”

He’s quiet for a moment. Finally, he asks in a low voice, “Can you keep a secret?”

His voice is just serious enough that you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “Is this real life or in game?”

Wonwoo laughs. “This is in game, though I guess the question technically applies to both.”

“Well, no one knows about the Incident, so at least Mingyu would say yes.”

“He made a fool of himself, didn’t he?”

“I’m sworn to secrecy.”

You decide if making Wonwoo laugh was all you did for the rest of your life it would be worth it. Something about the way his deep voice echoed in your ears made your heart skip a beat.

“Okay, come to Seungcheol’s base,” he says.

“The secret one?” You start heading there when Wonwoo says yes. The second day, Seungcheol decided he wanted to have a secret base, which meant in two minutes everyone had figured out where it was.

At least, where it used to exist. When you get there, Wonwoo is standing around the blown up remains of the Seungcheol’s base, a giant crater created by TNT in the middle of a flower field.

“What happened?”

“Jeonghan,” Wonwoo says.

“You know what, that actually makes sense,” you say. “Didn’t he say he’d only join if Jihoon let him play in creative?”

“Yeah, that was not happening,” he says.

“Is Seungcheol’s stuff still there?” You wander around the crater, seeing the remains of what Seungcheol had built, a few chests that remained.

“I can’t tell,” Wonwoo says. “I’m not really sure what he had to begin with or whether Jeonghan bothered to save his stuff, but the chests that survived seem to be pretty organized.”

“Wait, I still don’t get how he blew up Seungcheol’s house.” You emerge from the hole, standing at its edge beside Wonwoo’s character.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out,” he says. “I’ve been on this server, like, almost twenty four-seven and I haven’t even seen him on, so I really have no idea how or when he did it.”

“Someone must have helped him,” you say. “Oh my god, there’s an entire conspiracy. We have to get to the bottom of this!”

“Conspiracy?”

“It’s obviously not Seungcheol,” you say. “He’s going to be so mad when he comes back on.” The sun is starting to set. “Can we sleep through the night? I really don’t want to hide for the next ten minutes.”

“Sure,” he says. You return to the base with him, mind still racing trying to figure out who was enabling Jeonghan.

“Obviously it’s not your or me, so that leaves Jihoon and Mingyu.” You think about your two friends. You could see Mingyu doing it, because he was bullied by Seungcheol at least once a day, but usually Jeonghan was also involved, and you know Mingyu’s too busy being a STEM major to really dedicate his time to the game.

So Jihoon? You don’t think he has much motivation, but he has been playing a lot and maybe he had some unknown score to settle with Seungcheol.

“We should set up a stakeout or something,” you say. “Figure out who his supplier is.” The iron door swings shut behind you as you and Wonwoo return to the base.

“A stakeout might be kind of intense,” Wonwoo says.

“Okay, less of a stakeout and more of ‘you keep playing all day every day and find out if anyone is suspicious’ kind of thing.”

“This sounds like I’m going to be doing all the work.”

“Do you not spend most of your time here anyways?” You say. You go into your room and lay in your bed. “Bed!”

“Okay true,” Wonwoo says as the screen fades. “But I actually have an essay due tomorrow and next week so I can’t really be on as much.”

“Wonwoo? Being responsible?” You pretend to be shocked but when he laughs and your heart pounds so loud you forget that you were teasing him.

“So how do we find out who’s helping him?” You ask. “It seems like we don’t have many options.” With the sun back in the sky, you decide you want to work on a tree farm with the generous saplings that had been donated to you.

“We'll investigate together,” Wonwoo says. “Maybe next time Mingyu or Jihoon will leave evidence.”

You nod in approval, though he can’t see you. “Sounds good. I’m going to grind resources for a little while if you want to go back to whatever you were doing.” He’s quiet as you both play, the silence between you not awkward but strangely peaceful. He doesn’t complain when you ask him to sleep every night, even reminding you to get back before the sun sets.

Though you know he’s not nearly as invested as you are, it’s also fun to be in on a conspiracy with him. Maybe it’s just the fact that you have a secret between the two of you, but it makes you feel a tiny bit closer to him. You are finding that everything you learn about him just makes you like him more.

“Should I be worried about how much time you’re playing on this server?” You ask as soon as you join the server.

“No time for that!” Wonwoo says. “I’ve been hit!”

“No way!” You sprint to his section of the base, and indeed, it’s been blown up. Wonwoo had spent hours personalizing what had initially just been a hole in the wall, designing a bunch of rooms with resources from the nether and the end and creating redstone machines that you didn’t even try to comprehend.

Most of that is gone now, a crater even larger than the remains of Seungcheol’s base.

“Oh my god,” you say. “You’ve been nuked.” You join Wonwoo and Seungcheol at the sidelines. It’s been a week since the last attack, and Seungcheol has joined your party of justice. You’re a bit sad that it’s no longer something you had just between you and Wonwoo, but looking at the remains, you couldn’t deny you needed the help.

You take a step forward and there’s an ominous click.

“Yn, run!” Wonwoo shouts. You try to run but you panic, pressing the W instead of the S. You hear hissing and it only worsens your panic.

The first explosion doesn’t kill you but it scares the crap out of you and you can’t help but scream. “Help, help, help!”

“You’re running the wrong direction!” Seungcheol says.

“Stop laughing at me!” You groan as you die in the third explosion. Seungcheol doesn’t stop laughing, but what pains you is you can hear Wonwoo chuckling, too.

“I guess not all of the TNT was blown up,” Seungcheol says through his laughter.

“Evidently,” you say. “I kind of hate this game.” You click on respawn, heading back to the remains of Wonwoo’s base. You stay as far back as possible.

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo says. You can tell he’s still trying not to laugh. Traitor.

“It’s not your fault,” you say with a sigh. “Though Jeonghan better watch his back.”

“I’m sure he’s really scared,” Seungcheol says. He wanders carefully around the interior but there doesn’t seem to be any more traps.

“I have our high school yearbook from freshman year.”

“Have I mentioned how much I like you? Really, you’re one of my favorite people, ever,” he says.

“Very convincing,” you say. “Tell Jeonghan to watch his back.”

“Are the pictures really that bad?” Wonwoo asks.

You cackle. “I’ll send them to you.”

“Wait, why does he get them?” Seungcheol whines.

“We’re partners in… not crime,” you say. “Partners in solving crime? Justice?”

“That doesn’t sound right but I want to see the pictures, so, whatever you say.”

“Did you both forget I’m still here?” Seungcheol asks. “Third wheeling?”

“You’re not a third wheel, you’re a part of the team, too!” You say. “Partnership plus Seungcheol.”

“That’s literally a third wheel.”

Wonwoo bursts into laughter.

“Why am I even here?” Seungcheol sighs. He logs out of the game. “I’m going to do actual homework.” He leaves the voice chat.

“Did we just annoy him into doing actual homework?” You ask. You are still standing in the wreckage of Wonwoo’s base as he tries to fix it.

“I guess so,” Wonwoo says. “I don’t think we were actually excluding him or anything, were we?”

“I didn’t think so,” you say. The problem was, when you talked to Wonwoo, you didn’t exactly pay attention to what you were saying to anyone else. Maybe you should work on that.

“So, Mingyu or Jihoon?” You ask because it’s been quiet for too long.

“What?”

“Which one do you think did it? Or, helped Jeonghan, same difference.”

“Oh, right,” Wonwoo says. “I’m still not sure, I didn’t notice anything suspicious about either of them.”

“You aren’t the best at investigating, huh?”

Wonwoo laughs. “No, I’m really not.”

“I guess we could just interrogate them.” You wonder if you’re taking this too seriously, and maybe that’s why Wonwoo isn’t answering. “Or, I mean, it is your base that’s been blown up, so we don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to.”

Wonwoo is quiet a second too long.

“Sorry, I guess it’s really not that big of a deal,” you say.

“It’s not that-”

“It’s okay, I just thought it was funny, I didn’t mean to take it so seriously.”

“Yn-”

“I actually probably should go do some homework too.” You leave the voice chat as quickly as possible, logging out of the game immediately after. It was silly of you to think that Wonwoo wasn’t just entertaining you the entire time, but it still hurt to realize.

You sigh and turn away from your computer, despite the fact that the homework was not just an excuse and you really did have a lot of it. You just didn’t feel very motivated, instead thinking of how you had to somehow face Wonwoo tomorrow and pretend like you didn’t just get heartbroken over a video game.

There’s a gentle poke to your cheek. “You can’t sleep here.”

“Comfy,” you mumble, burying your face deeper into your arms.

“Come on, wouldn’t you rather sleep in your own bed?”

“Sleepy.”

“Come on.” The hand on your shoulder is gentle, but relentless, shaking you until you finally blink awake, sitting up. You instantly feel sore, stretching the arm that had been your pillow.

“How long was I out for?” You ask with a yawn.

“I’m not really sure.”

You freeze. You are 100% that when you fell asleep studying earlier you had been with Mingyu but that was definitely Wonwoo’s voice. You turn your head slowly, finding Wonwoo standing a couple steps behind you. Your heart does its usual gymnastic routine, though it’s worse because you’ve been awake for all of two seconds and Wonwoo looks picture perfect in his sweatshirt and perfectly combed hair.

“What are you doing here?” You try to smooth your hair, praying there’s no red marks on your face.

“Mingyu called because he had… actually he didn’t say what he had, he just said he had to go and that he didn’t want to wake you up, and he just told me to come here and study but the library closes in ten minutes, so we should probably go.” He folds his arm over his chest.

“Right,” you say. You stand up and stretch a little more, still blinking sleep away. You hate finals week. You stuff your computer into your backpack and try to organize the papers around you. Wonwoo steps beside you, trying to help.

“Is there an order to this?” He asks, trying to read your scribbled notes.

“There was once, it doesn’t really matter now,” you say. “The exam is tomorrow and I think I’ve stared at those as much as I can.” He doesn’t say anything else as he helps you gather them and shove them into a folder, sticking it all into your backpack. You turn to leave but he stops you, pointing to the outlet.

“Is that yours?”

“Yes, oh my god.” You grab the charger from the wall, tossing it into your backpack. “Thank you, I would have cried if I lost that.” You do a final sweep of the room, not seeing anything else that’s yours.

“Ready to go?” Wonwoo asks. You make the mistake of glancing at him, leaning against the doorframe with his backpack on his shoulders. He’s been so patient with you it doesn’t feel fair.

You nod, following him out of the room and falling into step beside him. The sleep is finally starting to wear off, and you are beginning to feel awake. The library is beginning to clear out, though you’re surprised at how many people there still are.

“How many tests do you have tomorrow?” Wonwoo asks.

“Just the one.” You sigh as you walk down the steps. “It’s a major requirement but it’s so dumb, it’s not helpful at all.”

“I’m just happy the science class is over,” he says. “No offense,” he adds quickly. “It was really fun to see you twice a week but I’m never letting Mingyu convince me to take a class with him again, that class was horrible.”

You shudder, remembering the final. You can only pray that you passed the test. Your memory is so bad you almost miss Wonwoo’s half compliment. “We should celebrate being free!” You stop in your tracks, just before the exit. “Oh my god, I forgot!”

“Did you leave something in the room?” He asks, turning to face you.

“No!” You grab his sleeve. “I forgot to pay you!”

He frowns. “For Seungcheol?”

You nod.

“That was just a joke,” he says with a laugh. He tugs your hand off of his arm, pulling you to the library doors. “I felt bad even taking the sandwich.”

“I can’t believe I forgot!” You say, ignoring his dismissal. The December air is chilly as you step outside and you pull your jacket tighter around your shoulders.

“You don’t actually owe me anything,” Wonwoo says. “Seriously, it was a joke.”

“No, but I feel bad, I promised you I would do something for you and I completely forgot about it!” You stop him under a streetlight, laying a hand on his wrist. Your breath makes little clouds in the air between you, dissipating quickly in the frigid air. Whatever you were going to say, you forget because Wonwoo is staring at you and he’s practically glowing in the bright light, and you are suddenly reminded of the day he tried to save your life. Knight in shining armor is the phrase that comes to your mind.

Your heart is pounding as you stare at him, unable to look away. His dark eyes, magnified just a little by his thick glasses lenses, stare back at you. Though he’s only a couple of feet away from you, the distance feels like miles.

His lips look a little chapped in the cold air, and you wonder what it would be like to step a little closer and press yours against his, whether they’d be rough or soft, whether he’d kiss you back.

You clear your throat. “I’m sorry anyway.” You’re not sure why you say it, but you finally tear your eyes from his, dropping your hand from his arm when you remember it’s there. You wish you could hold his hand. You stumble back for a couple steps before finally convincing your feet to work. You’re vaguely aware of Wonwoo mumbling, “Don’t worry about it,” and falling into step next to you.

He walks you to your car, neither of you daring to say anything after the strange moment. You’re struggling to think straight, especially with him still at your side. More than anything, you need your bed.

“I’ll see you later,” he says when you open the door. You force yourself to smile and wave goodnight to him before getting into your car. You lay your head against the wheel, wondering why you can’t just pretend like these feelings don’t exist.

There was no way Wonwoo didn’t think that was awkward, and you were now going to spend the rest of the night wondering just why you couldn’t stop staring at him when you should be studying for finals.

Maybe you should just drop out.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Wonwoo says. You join the voice chat before your game loads, but before you can say anything, he’s stammering. “I swear, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this!”

“What are you talking about?” You say, but a second later your game loads and you have no words. When you left a couple days ago, you had been in the middle of your base, logging off after spending a couple hours perfecting the hallway design (the trick was to mix and match the different types of stone).

It’s all gone now. You spawn in a crater of what you hand spent all your time on, barely recognizable amidst the remains. You see Wonwoo character appear and realize that the explosion had just happened, blocks littered around you.

“Wonwoo,” you say slowly, trying to understand what was happening around you. Everything you had worked on, gone.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he says again.

You start to understand, though it doesn’t make sense. “It’s been you? All this time?”

He says nothing, character in front of you as frozen as you feel inside.

“I can explain,” he finally says.

“No, I get it,” you say. “Actually it makes way more sense, you’re the only one who spends enough time to really supply him.” You try not to let the hurt show in your voice. It made perfect sense, really. What you didn’t understand is why he lied, why he played along with you when it was him all along. How many times had you talked to him about thinking it was Jihoon today, or Mingyu the next? You feel embarrassed, now, knowing how stupid you sounded.

“Jeonghan wasn’t supposed to destroy everything,” he says softly.

“Is that why you think I’m upset?” You’re not being fair, but you don’t particularly care right now. It shouldn't hurt, but it does. “Because my shit got blown up?” You log out of the game, staring at the discord chat. You and Wonwoo are the only ones online, which is good because you really don’t want anyone walking in on this conversation.

“You spent the entire time on the server working on it,” he mumbles.

You laugh. “I spent my entire time on the server hanging out with you,” you say. It’s good you're behind a screen because otherwise you would never have the confidence to do this, even if that made you a coward. “I really don’t care about Minecraft, Wonwoo. I like you.”

It’s so quiet you can hear your heart pounding over your headphones. You’re frozen, unable to click out of the voice chat though you know the silence is your answer, and every second that he doesn’t say anything means is him trying to figure out how to say that your feelings are unrequited and you just ruined the friendship.

Okay, completely ruined might be an exaggeration but it won’t ever be the same and it made you sick to your stomach that you had just blurted it out because you were butthurt about a dumb game.

“Did you really just confess to me over discord?” Wonwoo says. It's always been impossible to decipher how he feels from his voice but you’re going crazy trying to figure out if he really doesn’t sound mad or it's just your wishful thinking.

“Um. I guess so?”

He laughs, that stupid laugh that makes your heart flip in spite of the fact that you’re terrified. “I’m sorry, this is just the worst way to do this, you seriously couldn’t wait one more week?”

“You really don’t have to make me feel any more stupid than I already do,” you say.

“Oh my god, no, that’s not what I mean!” He says quickly. “Yn, I like you, too.”

“Oh.” Oh.

“I just didn’t think it was the best idea to tell you over discord,” he says.

“Yeah, that would be really dumb,” you say, trying to get your brain to comprehend anything other than I like you, too.

“If you waited literally one week, I would have told you in person,” he says. “I had a plan and everything. Actually, I had a plan to do it after finals but I sort of chickened out and then we both went back home and I had to reschedule, but I swear I was actually going to do it.”

“Right,” you say. “Wait, what? I really have no idea what’s going on, I can’t believe you actually like me back.”

“You’re an idiot,” he says. “How could I not?”

You have no answer to that, realizing that any insecurity you tell him would be shot down.

“I can’t believe this is how I told you,” Wonwoo says.

“I can pretend I didn’t hear you?”

You smile at his laugh, his voice sending a shock straight to your heart. “Or we could just meet up the second you’re back?”

“Like a date?”

“If that’s what you want,” he says. “It’s what I want, if I’m not being clear,” he adds quickly.

You wonder if you’ll ever stop smiling. “Yeah, I definitely want.” Eventually your vocabulary will return. Hopefully.

“So it’s a date?” Wonwoo asks.

You open your mouth to answer but there’s a ding and someone else joins the voice chat.

“Hey, perfect!” Jeonghan says. “Yn, I’m supposed to apologize for blowing up your base, that wasn’t supposed to happen. Actually, that’s what Wonwoo told me to say but honestly I’m really tired of listening to the both of you flirt without actually doing anything and I blew it up on purpose so that I can now say this: yn, Wonwoo likes you. Wonwoo, yn likes you. Have fun!” There’s another ding and he’s gone.

“I don’t know if I’m more mad that he planned that or that it sort of worked,” Wonwoo says.

“Yeah, he actually makes no sense,” you say.

“And yet it worked,” Wonwoo says. You wish you could see the face he’s making now, wondering if he’s smiling like you are.

“So, it’s a date?” He asks again.

Yes,” you say. “It’s a date.”

#🌟 stars galaxy #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt #svt reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fluff #svt x reader #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #reader x wonwoo #svt wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #seventeen wonwoo #svt jeon wonwoo

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calicough · 7 months

Text

maybe if – hazel callahan

— maybe if she did things differently.

angst. architecture student!hazel.

hazel's hands never left the paper laid on top of her drafting table while she took a sip of her coffee. the tip of her pencil gliding and making strokes across the surface, erasing and redrawing the lines that she wasn't satisfied with, keeping in mind her professor's criticisms on her concept design. her project was "too ambitious" according to her professor, but a "refreshing idea" nonetheless. hazel understood where her professor was coming from. designing a cafe that drew inspiration from japanese, baroque, and modern architecture was bound to look... messy. she settled with a modern japanese cafe, afraid to risk her grade with her modern baroque idea.

hazel callahan was not scared to take risks. that word was never a part of her vocabulary. i mean her high school life consisted of broken noses, sore ribs, dead football players, and tiny explosives that she loved creating. but that was until you left her tear-streaked face standing by the sidewalk. the streetlights illuminated your shaking figure, head down and arms wrapped around your body. you grew smaller and smaller until hazel can no longer see you.

feeling her neck starting to cramp, she placed her pencil down and cracked her fingers before stretching her neck and her entire body to release the tension that accumulated in her muscles. she picked up her notebook that was on her bed and flipped through its pages to look back at her drafts, gathering inspiration on how the cafe's interior should look like. after stopping on a certain page, she noticed a doodle drawn at the lower left-hand corner. it was a doodle of one of your favorite characters. they were the only thing that you could draw. hazel chuckled as she gently caressed the drawing, afraid that it will disappear.

she remembers a portion of that night, a month before graduation. "hazel..." your voice wavered as you sucked in a breath. "i think it's time that we end this."

"what?" was all that she could muster out after a long silence. hearing those words felt like her heart jumped off a tall building, shattering into million pieces as it hit the ground. the tears forming in her eyes was blurring her vision of you. what did you mean by that? this has to be some kind of a joke, right? "are you serious?" she looked straight into your eyes, searching that mischievous glint that would appear whenever you're pranking her. but it wasn't there. you were actually serious.

"i don't want to pull you down with me," you told her. hazel didn't understand it back then. she thought it would be a nice surprise to let you know that she'd be enrolling in the same university as you. she thought that you'd be delighted if you learned that she rejected the offer of one of the top architectural universities in the world just because she wanted to spend her time with you and be near you. but you weren't happy. and she understands that now. she would also be angry if you didn't grab the opportunities laid out in front of you, if you didn't follow your dreams. "i don't want you to risk everything that you ever hoped for and dreamed of just for me."

hazel closed her eyes as you walked away from her and prayed that it wasn't real. that in any second, you would wake her up from this nightmare. that when she opens her eyes, you are right in front of her with that golden smile that adorns your features. as she opened her eyes, she was greeted by the walls of her dorm room. of course you weren't there.

hazel did accept the offer two days after you broke up, hoping that it'll somehow magically fix your relationship. but the damage was done and she is now staring at your doodle in her notebook. smiling to herself, she placed her notebook down on the table and returned to drawing, hoping that you're doing well wherever you are. that you're happy.

if only she had done things differently back then. maybe if she didn't outright reject the offer from the university. maybe if she took her dreams a little more seriously. maybe one day, if by some chance fate decided to bring you back together, she'll show you how much she had changed. hopefully, she'd be able to hold you in her arms and never let you go again.

aahhh!! this was inspired by the kdrama our beloved summer and the song maybe if by bibi. i rlly like the idea of architect hazel hihi she'd look so cute carrying that big blueprint tube. anyways, i hope you guys enjoyed this one! and thank you for all the love on my first work, it rlly means a lot to me :] <3

#architect hazel #hazel callahan #hazel callahan angst #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms (2023)#hazel bottoms

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mutable-manifestation · 1 year

Text

Summer Vacation Summoning Shenanigans 2

idk when the batcave gets a Laz pit but the answer here is ‘not yet’ bc reasons

***

By the time Danny’s duplicate returns to him, Robin has finished - very thoroughly - tying up his captive ninja. And was now staring him down.

Red had moved to texting someone after ensuring Danny was belted in and putting the plane on some kind of autopilot - which, very cool.

He hadn’t been bored, though, looking over the plane interior with glee.

While the exterior design was…a bit much, the inside was sleek and high-tech. It was no rocketship, but going over which controls were similar and which differed and trying to guess what they all did was plenty entertaining.

He was less than half-way through them when he re-merged with his duplicate.

Luckily, Red and Robin were still occupied by that point, giving him time to focus on sifting through the memories.

He tries to stifle his laughter, disguising an escaped snort by pretending to cough into his fist.

Red apparently chooses that moment to be done with his phone (and damn, he sent some poor sob a book).

“Sorry about that; I had to update Batman.”

Danny let himself laugh at that.

“Bat-man? Not, like, Birdman or something?”

“Nope, the bat himself. Speaking of which; I was hoping you’d be willing to answer some questions?”

Robin chose that moment to plop into the seat next to Danny, who looked at him in askance.

“His vitals have stabilized; the tranquilizer has fully kicked in. There is no more need to worry about a surprise escape; by the time he awakes we will be back in Gotham.”

Danny hummed.

“So like, are you just dropping him off first? Or was the ‘taking me home’ thing a play on words that actually just meant ‘kidnapping me take 2: electric boogaloo?’ I mean, you don’t even know where I live; my place could be closer to here than to Gotham.”

“Your accent resembles nothing of Nanda Parbat,” Robin says.

Red picks up after him.

“No, no, we’re taking you back to your home,” he clarifies, shaking his head and x-ing his arms. “You’re from somewhere in the mid-western United States, right? Gotham is the first US city we’d hit flying this path.”

“Illinois,” he answers, squinting in thought as he searches his memory for a ‘Gotham’ or a ‘Nanda Parbat,’ which, ha, ‘Par-bat.’ “I take it we’re somewhere in, like, Europe or something?”

The Robins share a look.

“Where is the last place you remember being before you were kidnapped?” Red asks.

“Illinois,” Danny shrugs, settling back in his seat. “Anyway, you can just drop me near Chicago or something and I’ll take it from there.”

Red huffs a laugh. “No need for that. I gave Batman your name and description; he’ll have coordinates to where you need to go in no time.”

“Well, that’s…” ‘Inconvenient,’ he thinks to himself, hoping for the first time that this is actually a different universe so he doesn’t have to come up with an explanation to cover for how he somehow ended up abroad without including the whole ‘being summoned’ thing.

The last thing he needs is to give them a reason to put him through the Ghost Catcher.

“...nice,” he settles on. Unconvincingly.

“Do you know why you were taken?” Robin presses.

Danny opens his mouth to answer, but pauses.

“Yep!” he concludes, eyes crinkling with his smile. “I’ll even answer that question if you answer one of mine first.”

The smaller Robin narrows his eyes suspiciously, Red asking “What question?”

He turns away from Normal Robin to look at Red Robin.

“What’s up with the ‘flying things’ theme?”

Red slow blinks, Danny can practically hear the dial-up noise.

He was probably expecting worse in exchange for ‘hey what does the murder club want?’

The smaller Robin answers while he is collecting himself.

“The Robin title is inherited, passed down from the first. It is a reference to the costume colors. Batman chose his name and costume as a symbol of fear, to intimidate the criminals of Gotham.”

“Oooooh, so it’s like a gang thing!”

Red Robin makes a choking noise.

“What!? NO! I- that- we’re heroes! Batman is a founding member of the Justice League!” He manages, face painted in disbelief.

Robin, for his part, remains silent - though a brief glance out of the corner of his eyes reveals a pinched expression.

“Oh, right,” he nods along, deciding he is definitely not still in the same universe. Sweet, no worries about hiding the ghost powers then, especially since heroes were apparently enough of a thing to have some kind of support group or something.

“So does that mean you have bird-powers?”

“No,” Robin says. “And you haven’t answered my question yet.”

“Ah, right, Ra’s’ thing. He said he was trying to summon the ‘Lord of the Dead,’” Danny does air quotes along with the far-too-pretentious-title. Honestly, ‘Ghost King’ was bad enough.

“The ‘Lord of the Dead?’” Red echoes. “Summon? As in, with circles and blood-sacrifices and magic.”

“Yep,” Danny pops the p. “I wouldn’t worry too much though. He’ll probably be distracted trying to un-kidnap this guy and deal with whatever had his other guys running around like chickens with their heads cut off for a while yet.”

---------------------

Tim had left a call open to the batcave so the rest could listen in, and after Danny’s incredibly alarming answers about Ra’s’ current goal it was no doubt exploding with texts and suggestions in the groupchat. Good thing he muted it fully.

He feels a bit bad interrogating the guy, but time and memory don’t go well together. People often dismiss as unimportant things that are actually the key to breaking a case; the more thorough their questions, the more likely they prompted a memory that would give them the answers they needed.

Unfortunately, Danny didn’t seem to know much.

“Did Ra’s say anything about who this ‘Lord of the Dead’ is? Or why they were trying to summon him?”

“Nope!” Danny smiled. “Nothing about - who aside from the title, of course - or why, just that they did want to summon him. If you guys don’t have bird powers, what powers do you have?”

“We are not enhanced beyond what the average healthy human could achieve, though we are all highly trained in combat - some more than others - and skilled in detective work. We rely on skill, research, and preparation.”

And on and on; Danny giving uninformative answers then asking a question for each they’d asked on their ‘turn,’ and them giving carefully vague answers of their own.

One consolation is that he didn’t seem bored.

For someone who claimed to have woken up less than an hour ago on the wrong side of the planet he’s just…relaxed. Calm. Seemingly unaffected, down to his microexpressions.

No signs of shock.

Of course, he’d treated the Lazarus Pit as a kiddie pool.

And despite his words, he’d shown no recognition at the mention of the Justice League, and around half of his questions thus far had been about them.

Clearly something was up with him; whatever it was would probably explain the self-assurance.

He’d escaped from the League before they’d even known he was kidnapped, afterall. Tim and Damian really only solved the final hurdle for him. Even with most of LoA distracted with something, it was still impressive that he’d manage to slip whatever restraints and guard they’d undoubtedly had him under.

Which is, of course, when Damian asks.

“How did you manage to escape?”

Danny shrugs.

“Have you ever seen that thing that coyotes do where they get their leg stuck in a beartrap or something and they gnaw it off to escape?” he says, expression unmoved.

“You are a meta, then,” Damian concludes while Tim just stares at Danny in horror.

At that, Danny’s expression changes.

“A what?” he squints, uncomprehending.

“A meta - or metahuman - is someone with a meta-gene, which grants them superpowers. Like how Flash is so fast: that’s his meta ability,” Tim says. “You still had all your limbs when you…dove into-”

“Wait, wait, back up,” Danny interrupts. “To be clear: I did not gnaw off a limb. That was meant to be a joke. So Flash is a ‘meta.’ Is that, like, common?”

Tim was beginning to suspect this guy either had memory loss, was an unlucky alien who only landed recently - just in time to get kidnapped by the League of Assholes - or was just really sheltered.

He’d also suspect some kind of Pit demon, given where and how they found him, but he has so far been nothing but polite and cooperative - if a bit…chaotic. In terms of questions he’s asked.

“I’m kind of surprised they bothered to form a group if there are so few people with powers,” Danny mused after Damian filled him in on the statistics. “Especially if most of them are as minor as you said.”

“Even just one person with strong powers can spell disaster if left unchecked - the League aids response times in that regard. Besides, it’s not like metas are all there is to pay attention to - there are plenty of villains without meta abilities, intergalactic politics to deal with-”

“Intergalactic? Are you guys doing things in space!?”

Danny was suddenly very close, nose just a hair's breadth from touching Tim’s own.

He swallows quietly.

“Ah, occasionally? G-green Lantern is. A Green Lantern. They’re basically space cops, so that’s…more his thing. Though a previous Robin did have to deal with a Gordanian-Tamaranean conflict affecting a Tamaranean ally - Starfire.”

Danny leans away - just a bit - as he speaks, seemingly basking in the information like a cat in a sunbeam.

“You’re allies with an alien? Ancients,” he breathes. “There are aliens. So cool.”

“Tch, of course there are. I already informed you of Superman,” Damian huffs, causing Danny to whip towards him.

“Superman is an alien!?”

They’d also mention Batman and Superman being close allies, which apparently inspired Danny to let loose the sea of questions he’d been holding back.

“What’s his species called? Is Superman a translation of his actual alien name? You never showed me a picture; does he look human or is he totally different? What’s his planet like? Have you been there? Is he comfortable in Earth’s atmosphere or does he have to use environment-adjusting equipment? Or is it well suited to him? Is that why he has powers, actually? Because the difference in planet allows him to thrive? Or are they an inherent trait in his species? What’s his culture like? You said Green Lantern was ‘A Green Lantern;’ is he an alien too? Or is that the space cops’ names? Are most space cops aliens? What about the Tamaranean person - Starfire? And the Gordanians? Where are they all from are they all from the Milky Way or are some extra-galactic do they allhaveenvironmentalneedssimilartoorlessthanhumanscantheysurviveinthevacuumofSPACE-”

---------------------

Once they get Danny to pause for breath - which takes an impressively long time - they promise to answer his questions with a gentle reminder that they’re supposed to take turns asking things.

If Danny was cooperative before, he’s downright eager now. He listens with near-religious awe to every answer they gave.

When it’s their turn to ask a question he becomes unnervingly still and stares with an intensity that has Tim half-concerned they’ll catch on fire for every second they aren’t talking - though luckily between himself and Damian the pauses are minimal.

His answers are both more detailed and more focused.

If they ask if he saw any information about the summoning ritual, he only mentions catching a glimpse of ‘the summoning room.’ Asking what the room looked like nets a description of the columns’ styles and the general vibes, asking what things he saw in the room got them an exhaustive list, but if they wanted further detail they had to ask specifically about the item in question.

He had an awful lot of details for a guy who only ‘caught a glimpse.’

He also refused to give them details about what the circle looked like because ‘for all I know you could be lying about everything you’ve said so far and planning to use me in your own ritual as a sacrifice to summon the Lord of the Dead.’

He and Damian spend a few of their turns opening the internet on the batplane’s front window and showing him some articles and videos about themselves, Batman, Gotham, and the JL to get them to trust him.

He eventually says he’ll describe the circle to them if he can meet an alien.

Appealing to his sense of self-preservation by explaining the information would increase their odds of stopping Ra’s does not help, nor does appealing to his sense of ‘helping others.’

It’s an introduction or the highway.

Not the worst outcome, given how many aliens they know.

The rest of the flight is spent like this.

---------------------

Danny is having quite possibly the best day of his half-life - and life, if he’s being honest.

Aliens! The universe he’s in has aliens! And he gets to meet one! Probably!

If Ra’s requests something that isn’t outright evil he’s honestly, genuinely considering granting it (in exchange for something, of course. Having a cool home universe is enough for maybe a deal, not for a freebie. Maybe he can ask for a regularly scheduled summoning to talk to the aliens? And all of the information Ra’s has and will ever have on aliens? Ooooh).

Not that he’s going to make it easy on him, of course.

And wow he is loving the information exchange with the Robins - they’re telling him about aliens and he just has to, what, describe a chandelier? A book? His opinion on the pool?

They ask a surprising number of questions about the pool.

He gets twin dead-eyed stares when he asks if they’re thinking of installing a bird bath - yeah it cost him an alien question but there are only so many pool-related questions he can answer while ignoring the joke hanging right there.

He had to.

When they finally land and exit into what looks like the inside of a high-tech barn, he can’t help but think they might just be sour that they didn’t think of it first.

“Not to be judgy, or anything, but I’m not really getting cave vibes here,” he comments as he descends the final step from plane to floor, looking up once he’s clear to watch the roof finish folding closed over their heads.

“Because this isn’t the cave,” an unfamiliar voice says, melting out of the shadows in a corner to reveal a purple-cloaked woman.

“Wait, let me guess: Purple Robin? Purple Bat? Peafowl?”

Purple snorts good-naturedly and shakes her head.

“All good guesses, space cadet, but wayyy off base. It’s Spoiler, non-flying thing name haver extraordinaire.” She dips into a dramatic bow, eyes crinkled in what, even without her mouth visible, was obviously a grin.

“Ehhhh…” Danny tilts a hand side-to-side. “Spoilers can technically fly if you crash a car hard enough.”

“By that logic everything can be considered a flying thing,” Robin frowned.

“Well the Earth is hurtling through space at around half a million miles per hour chasing the sun through an endless void with no ‘ground’ in sight….”

“Well!” Red Robin ends the brief silence that had inspired. “We should probably head to the batcave, but for security reasons we can’t let you see how we get there-”

“Hey, does this smell funny to you?” Spoiler asks, holding up a bottle of what was almost definitely chloroform.

He can see Red and Robins’ mask eyes widening (somehow) and makes the split second decision to lean forward and take a deep breath of the bottle being held just high enough for him to stick his nose over it.

“Citrusy,” he says before pretending to fall unconscious.

***

*Timmy Turner’s Dad’s voice* “I’m respecting reality by acknowledging that chloroform doesn’t work like that but asserting my authority as The Author by making it work like that anyway”

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Sorry if I missed anybody anyway here's part 2!

#dpxdc #chaotic summoned-by-Ra's Danny #Tag interlude #idk much about Spoiler except she's purple and kinda chaotic and maybe set of a gang war by accident once #Also idk if there’s already something like the sensory interference helmet or not #but if there isn’t: yes there is.#(think the thing that prevents superman hearing batman’s heartbeat [idk if that’s canon or fanon either tbh] but like #a helmet #Fucks with just the person wearing it - vision [the obvious one]#but also noise is silenced except something like an internal gyroscope thingy that messes with sense of direction #Idk #I'm not a scientist #Just roll with it #long post

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