#I haven’t even watched bleach and I’m already in love with him someone help

[poohbea]

let me tell you, im OBSESSED with this man. OBSESSED 🥺😮‍💨😫

sauce

[afy2018]

Revised* Second Night Stand

“She just seems a bit off,” Kara immediately stated to her colleague.

“Who?” Lena pushed the box of sweets closer with her boot.

“Alex.”

“What do you mean she’s been off?”

Kara dramatically sprawled across the nice couch and took a large bite out of a donut. “I can’t describe it, but I just know. I feel it in my bones.” She suddenly sat up straight, “You know, it started when I came out to her.”

“She’s not, like, a homophobe, right?”

“No,” she vehemently denied, “that’s the thing. It was when she found out it was Mags. That’s when it began.”

Lena sat on the coffee table as she nibbled on her sweet. “How’s her love life been?”

“What love life?”

She perked an eyebrow at the statement, “Mhm, well when was the last time she dated or even had sex?”

“Ugh, I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that last little bit there.”

“Don’t you ever wonder, like, for her health?”

“Stop!” she protested covering her ears. “Do you think about your brother like that?”

“I don’t need to. That incel hasn’t been laid since college, that’s why he’s such a prick. So, boy or girl?”

“Last person she showed off to the family was when she was twenty-three? A boy, fuckboy by today’s standards. He had a diamond ring, bleached tips,” she laughed during her recollection, “and a gold necklace. I don’t think she even liked him. Wait, did you say girl?”

“What if she doesn’t like men? Maybe she’s worried that she’s gay? Maybe she still thinks she’s straight and thinks she’s, well, broken?” Lena suggested. “What if she envies you and Maggie?”

“I don’t know. I also wouldn’t want to put her in a weird position if she wasn’t queer.”

“Then wait until something happens, I don’t know. What made you think about that?”

“Nothing, really. Or everything. It doesn’t matter. What about your night?”

“Other than the usual press release about my brother’s whereabouts, not too bad. I even got an hour in my lab.”

“Careful, people might think you’re shady.”

“Oh, that, yeah. You saw it?”

“It was released by Catco, of course, I saw it.”

“I know I can’t ask, but I really want to know who the dog whistler is. I swear I’m not doing anything weird down there. I haven’t bought any Kryptonite, I still have my hair,” she poorly joked.

Kara rolled her eyes, “I’m not worried about that. In my opinion, even though you didn’t ask, I would stay out of the lab for a while, maybe work on your stuff up here and go there after hours.”

“And that’s not shady?”

“Once you’re off the clock, it’s your personal time and- oh, no, I see now.”

“No way to win in this situation. I’ll just stay out of my not-so-secret lair.”

Kara chuckled at the dramatic line and cheered her donut with her friend’s. “I will not break code, but it wasn’t someone who works here.”

“What?”

“That’s all I know. It wasn’t a very reputable source, but they were vetted by the journalist.’

“Why did you tell me? Now I want to dig into it.”

Kara’s pager went off, so she shoved another donut in her mouth on her way out. “Sorry, I have to go.”

“Maggie?”

“Yup,” she confirmed through a mouthful.

“I hope you get luckier than me,” Lena called after her.

Once out of the line of sight of the public, Kara blasted off to DEO, still munching her treat as she walked into the building. She spotted her sister on the bridge, speaking with her superior. Once she noticed Kara, she wiped her thumb across the corner of her mouth. Kara copied her as she approached the situation.

“What’s going on?”

“Just an update, Director Henshaw,” she segued to him.

As he gave the long-winded update, Alex watched her sister closely. She couldn’t help but worry about how much time she was spending with Lena. She’d seen what happened when lark became an investigative reporter. He had already been such a target as his alter-ego, he had to be selective with who he contacted for his stories. Clark would rarely meet people in public and never took on large stories for fear of being outed. It made her worry about what Lena knew, then again if Kara trusted her, maybe she should let her go. Maggie turned out to be better than she initially thought, however, the time spent between Luthor and her sister was inappropriate for someone so high-profile. After a moment to gather herself, Alex chose to confront her sister about Lena rather than let it fester.

Once Henshaw left, she pulled her sister to the side. “I saw you were at Luthor Corp again.”

“You know that’s not the name anymore, Alex.”

“You’re spending too much time with Lena.”

“Well Cat assigned me to her, so I have to spend a little time getting some juicy stories?”

“Does she know about you?”

“No, no,” she tried to assure her. “Only that you’re DEO and Sawyer of course. Although, if she’s smart like her brother… but if so, she hasn’t mentioned it. I trust her Alex, so don’t intervene, like you like to do.”

“I don’t intervene.”

Kara only shot her an astonished smirk, “Look, if you’re so worried, we can all meet up at a cafe this weekend. Wear something kick ass.”

“I know how to dress.”

“Okay, well I have someone waiting for me, so if I’m not needed, I’m off.”

“I’ll see you around.”

“Loosen up, Danvers,” she mockingly called to her sister on her way to the elevator.

Alex sucked her teeth as the doors closed, prying eyes searching to read her well-hidden emotions. She went back to her office to gather the last of her belongings before she could get saddled with any more paperwork. Once everything was filed and locked away, she went out to her bike and slipped through the commute traffic until she arrived at Al’s trusted E.T.-friendly bar. The quaint establishment housed highly-trusted and low-threat aliens. Alex sat at the bar, soon served by M’gann.

“What should I start you off with?”

“You can read, right?”

“Yes,” she curtly began, “I just hoped to hear your beautiful outside voice.”

“Outside voice?”

“Yes, your internal soundtrack is so monotone.”

Alex shrugged off the slight. “How’ve you been?”

“Good, lazy crowd as usual and the others,” she stated as she set down her Jack & Coke.

“What do I owe you?”

“Only one drink?”

“I’m not staying long.”

“$9, then.”

Alex placed down a sawbuck, “Keep the change.”

“You seem stressed, deeper than your conscious brain.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well on top of this being your fourth time here in the week, not that I’m complaining, you’re internal voice isn’t really finishing its sentences.”

“I just- I’m having some trouble. I feel like I’m being childish, though,” she explained in frustration.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I just want to drink here and start the next day. Thank you, though, M’gann.”

She politely smiled and went to attend to a new customer. Alex finished her drink and headed for the door, doubling back for her jacket before accidentally getting body checked by another patron.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot my jacket,” Alex quickly apologized.

“It’s okay, my fault,” she returned.

She regarded her a little, “Luth- Lena?”

“Yes, you don’t need to be weird about it. The others aren’t,” she casually stated.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you feel weird.”

“What’s your name?”

“Alex.”

Lena studied her carefully until she caught her badge glint off a blinking light. “Danvers, would you happen to know or be related to Kara Danvers from Catco?”

“Yes, she’s my sister.”

“She’s very nice, she’s actually one of my closest friends out here.”

“She’s mentioned you before.”

“By your tone, I can tell you’re a little suspicious. I understand.”

“It’s not you-”

“It’s Lex, yeah.”

“But, I’m sure you’re nice enough.”

Lena couldn’t help but have fun at Alex’s expense.

“You know, Kara wanted us to meet over coffee this weekend-”

“Do you want to meet over a drink now?”

Alex was held aback slightly by her forward question, “Sure, why not?”

“Okay,” Lena smiled. “Why don’t you find a spot for us while I get drinks? What’s your poison?”

“I’ll just take a domestic.”

She returned with their drinks to one of the standing tables in the center of the room. “You really want to be this seen with a Luthor,” she jested.

“I just don’t mind standing is all,” she blundered through.

Lena continued to assess the older Danvers sister before her making her next statement. “You know, Kara says great things about you. She talks about the amazing work you do, taking out gangs to protect the world.”

“She does more important things than me,” she honestly stated.

“So, how did you find out about this place?”

“Maggie told me about it. She’s human, but was kind of adopted by the community.”

“And so were you.”

“I could ask the same about you. You said you can be yourself, what did you mean by that?”

“Well, Lex is a xenophobe, but I see this place as a spot for outcasts. People don’t judge me here.”

“I understand. I’m also human, but being here lets me gain their trust.”

“I can see why Kara looks up to you.”

Alex scoffed at her statement, “I doubt that’s true.”

“No, really,” Lena assured her before finishing her drink. “I’m glad I had a chance to meet you before the coffee date.”

Alex blushed as she furrowed her brows at the phrase, but returned the statement, “Yeah, me, too. I should probably get going as well, workday tomorrow, as you know.”

“Goodbye, Alex,” she chuckled, watching on as she left the bar. With a giddy shake of her head, she whipped out her phone and shot Kara a quick text, “I was right.” She triumphantly grinned on her way out of the establishment, catching the older Danvers sibling mount her ride and disappear into the night.

~

Alex looked in the mirror in defeat. How did she let Kara talk her into drinking coffee with a Luthor? Years of being warned about the family and now she was playing nice with one. She pulled on her thin blue long-sleeved shirt and grabbed her keys. Alex found her wallet in the cushions and took a final glance sound her flat before heading to the bus stop. Her phone buzzed during the commute.

“L said you 2 talked, trust her now?” her sister texted.

“She’s very polite.”

“U there yet?”

“No, just got on bus, you?”

“W/ Mags @ front.”

“Kk, see you there.”

Once at her stop, Alex walked two blocks to the cafe and immediately spotted her sister outside of the storefront.

“Hey, how are you?” Kara greeted her with a hug.

“Great,” she followed her sister to the table where Maggie and Lena were already seated. “How are you, three?”

“Mags was offered a promotion as lead detective.”

“Oh, wow, congrats!” she enthusiastically said. “What about you, Kara?”

“The usual. I was assigned an ‘important’ story and finished it, but it’s not good enough, so I’m going to meet up with Lena to check out some toys she’s planning to release.”

“What are they?”

Lena explained, “Well, to combat my brother’s technology, I’ve been tinkering with an anti-kryptonite box. It’s like a black hole. I’m still trying to expand it because it only works at a fifteen-meter radius. I’m also working on a kinetic car battery that should extend the life by about 25%, I just have to find a way to make it out of more abundant resources.”

“You’ll have to show me the Supergirl plans.”

“Of course.”

“So, what are we gonna to get?” Alex addressed the table.

“I’m starving, so I’m getting a sandwich,” Maggie started off.

“I’ll just get coffee,” her partner declared.

“I’m feeling like hot cider,” Luthor decided. “What about you, Alex?”

“I might get the mocha, I love coffee-hot cocoa blends.”

Maggie offered, “I’ll get the order in, you guys can pay me back later.”

“No, let me get it,” Lena offered. “My treat.”

“No, you stay there.” She stood up to approach the counter.

“So Kara says you work with Supergirl?”

“You could say that,” she responded, shooting a glare at her sister.

“What’s it like?”

“Well, she’s just as nice as she seems, but cannot keep a secret despite how dangerous the truth would be for her.”

Kara only guffawed at her statement and excused herself. “I’m gonna help Mags with the drinks.”

While they were busy getting the orders, Lena leaned over the table, “I have to say, I’m very glad I met you.” She pulled away as their orders arrived and carefully gauged Alex’s reaction.

They silently sipped away as the couple beside them briefly discussed their living situation.

“Oh,” Maggie suddenly segued, “Kara told me you two already met?”

Alex awkwardly confirmed, “Yeah, we- uh- yeah, at Al’s after work Thursday night.”

“Danvers in Al’s Bar with the domestic beer.” Lena joked. “I’m glad we got to feel each other out without the fear of losing face.”

“What’d you guys talk about?” Sawyer inquired.

“Work and Al’s, mostly.” Alex clarified.

Lena excused herself near the restrooms when her phone started buzzing. Once she left, Maggie stated, “So, we and I were walking about possibly refurbishing the apartment.”

“Nice, what theme?”

“Eclectic style?” her sister suggested.

“Oh, so what you have now but a bit more adult.”

“Yeah,” she mockingly agreed. “So, thoughts on Lena?”

“She’s funny, I can see why you like hanging out with her.”

“Good because I’m inviting her to game nights now.”

“Am I really the last of your friends to meet her?”

“Yes, you are really good at avoiding people when you want to. Speaking of which, what do you have going on in your personal life?”

“Normally when you say that it relates to whatever you previously said.”

“It does, though. You’re so invested in work and that’s really all we talk about, so what’s going on in your personal life?”

“I don’t really have time for that, Kara, you know that. I mean, it’s why you’re with Mags, you see each other all the time.”

“And no one at work gives you any feelings?’

“No, all the guys who work there are either childish or I don’t trust them with all of this,” she grandly gestured. “Why are you so interested anyway? We never talk about my personal life.”

“Well, now we are.”

“You know I don’t really have much going on ever, so sorry to burst your bubble,” she finished with a defiant sip of her scalding drink.

Kara slumped in her chair a little and kissed the back of Maggie’s hand. “So, you’re fine with Lena joining game night?”

“Of course, she’s chill enough, I just worry when she meets Supergirl irl, you know?”

“I know. I’ve only been in contact with her once and it was very dark. Look, I trust her. She’s nothing like her brother,” she finished in a hushed tone.

Alex slid her cup around a little before placing her hands flat on the table, “I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” her sister nonchalantly scoffed.

She meandered to the restroom, hoping that maybe her sister would forget about the conversation quickly. On her way, she spotted Lena in the distance having an intense conversation on the phone. As she approached her, Lena ended the call.

“Hey, sorry. Did Kara send you?”

“No, I just had to escape her questions. What happened?”

Lena shoved her phone into her pocket. “Lex wants me to defend him on the stand.”

“What’d you say?”

“Fuck no. He’s tainted any shot I had at being a normal person. But I’ll be back soon, just need to decompress. What’d she ask you to make you leave, if I may ask?”

“Just super personal stuff.”

“Too personal to share with me just yet?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

Alex took a moment to organize her thoughts. “I feel like I can tell you, but I don’t think I should.”

“Is it the Luthor thing,” Lena inquired, her tone turning sour.

She denied the notion with a quick shake of her head. ‘I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, well, I’m going back to join your sister before they get concerned.” She passed Alex and went back to her spot.

Kara asked, “Hey, what happened?”

“Family affairs as usual.”

“Oh, sorry about that.”

“Pfft, not your fault, I blame Lex. So, what’d I miss?”

“We were just talking about redesigning our place.”

“I love the style you currently have, what are you going to do?”

Alex returned to her seat, “Less teenage dream, more adult.”

“Hey, you helped me decorate it,”

“Maybe we’ll host a game night and redecorate?” Maggie offered.

“Sounds like a good idea. What sort of games do you have?” Lena inquired.

“Cards, scrabble, we have this one we’ve been meaning to play called Rivals. It’s like Monopoly on steroids according to some reviews.”

“Sounds interesting, I’m game,” she jibed.

“Alex?” Kara directed to her sister.

“Sure.”

“I hate to cut this short, but since I got a fun call from the boy, I need to get in contact with some of my people. Thank you so much for lunch, just text me the time and place and I’ll be there,” Lena promised her friend.

“So, soon?”

“Yeah, if I don’t get on this soon, he’s going to try to implode the company.”

“Literally?” Alex guessed.

“No, worse. Socially,” she clarified.

“I’ll make a group chat for game night,” Kara promised, pulling out her phone and getting to work. Soon after, their phones buzzed with the first message.

Alex pulled her jacket on, “I should go, too.”

“What do you have?”

“I was going to the gym and possibly the rage depending on how much more time I have.”

“Oh, I’ll join you. The one in the precinct pails in comparison to you guys,” Maggie noted.

When Alex went to grab her phone, she felt an odd folded piece of paper grace her fingertips. Unraveling it revealed curly flowing script which read: “Just in case ~372-555-4610”. Unfamiliar calligraphy led Alex to believe it must have been Lena’s handwriting. She shoved it back into her pocket, declaring it to be an old note.

“Are you going right now?” the detective asked.

“Yeah, I have a spare set in my locker.”

“Can you wait up for me?”

“Sure, but you’d better be quick,” she teased.

Once they parted ways, Alex took the bus to her work and after flashing her badge went to the changing room. She sat in front of her locker and reached into her jacket pocket, mulling over whether or not to call Lena. Ultimately, she unfolded the paper again and called the number. At first, it went straight to voice mail, to Alex’s relief, but within a minute, her phone rang. She debated answering, but since she made the first call, it was only polite to return the favor.

“Hello,” she heard Lena greet.

“Hey, it’s Alex, this is Lena, right?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, her voice immediately relaxing.

“You gave me your number, just in case,” she referenced. “Can you elaborate?”

“I was talking about our conversation Saturday.”

“Yeah, yes. Sorry if I came off a little abrasive.”

“No, it’s okay, Alex,” Lena tried to reassure her. “While I have you, I want your input on something.”

“If it’s with your inventions, I doubt I can help.”

“No, humor me, please,” she chuckled.

“Fine.”

Lena looked at the broken box in her hand and put Alex on speaker while she paced around the object. “Let’s say you wanted to fit something that just didn’t into a box. It was important to you, but not the project.”

“I feel like I need a bit more context, Luthor.”

“Okay, I have the Anti-Kryptonite box here and it’s ready to go, but I want to give Supergirl the ability to use it almost as a weapon to destroy whatever’s being targetted at her.”

“Okay, well, I would say for your current prototype, as is would be perfect for her since we don’t have the technology to protect her. If you want to improve upon it, we can always get some of our technicians to help you?”

“Okay, sounds like a plan, so how does three sound?”

“Excuse me?”

“Meet up around 3 tomorrow so I can give you the box and schematics?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Do you want to meet at my place or the bar?”

“The bar works for me.”

“Perfect, thanks, Alex.”

In slight shock, the call ended and Alex placed her phone in her locker. She nodded slightly and continued waiting until Maggie joined her ten minutes later.

“So, what are we hittin’ today? Legs, pump some iron,” Maggie joked by flexing her biceps. “You good?”

“Yeah, just going to meet up with Lena tomorrow for that box.”

“Ah, I wasn’t tuned in for that convo, so tell me more.”

“Oh, anti-kryptonite,” she briefly explained as they went to work out. “We can do full body. What’s your experience with gyms?”

“I usually go three to four times a week. So, I’ll follow your lead.”

[quirklessidiot]

title : cigarettes and parfaits [1] pairing : older!nanami kento x younger!reader [13 year age gap, ft toji fushiguro] Genre: romance, fluff, super duper mild angst, slice of life, josei, bad comedy, strangers to lovers au

Summary: you’re pretty sure you’d remember marrying a man 13 years older than you, right?

Warnings: alcohol, smoking, very,very mild smut, y/n making stupid decisions, everyones a human-au so yeh non-canon stuff and everyone’s happy (periODT BECAUSE NANAMI DESERVES HAPPINESS)

Notes: after repeatedly giving you jjk angst, i have been very happy to announce that i am able to write something fluffy now. Yay! (Anyways this is based on the manga sesame salt and pudding, yall better read that. It’s just *chefs kiss*) also this may or may not be written ebcause of the amount of smoll nanami content i’m seeing around this site hmPH 

masterlist  || taglist || [next  ; updates every friday]

The sound of your alarm blared at the crack of dawn, making you immediately jerk up in an unfashionable manner, you shouldn’t drink on Sunday nights. Good lord,  why did you even do that?-

Your thoughts are cut short though when you feel something, better yet, someone, next to you. It’s dark but you could definitely tell that whoever this stranger is, had settled himself quite comfortably by your side. You blink once then twice then slowly reached out to switch your lamp open to get a good look on who was next to you.

Thankfully, you’re still in your clothes from last night.

Also, who the fuck is this?

Your brows are furrowed together as you try to remember who this person was. Blonde hair and jaw so sharp that it could probably cut the vegetables on your kitchen counter, some fine lines littered his face as he wrinkled his forehead in his sleep.

The tie on his neck is loose as you slowly peered to observe him even more and for some odd reason that made your ears turn bright red as you check out his rather lean figure (he wasn’t overly muscular, he was just right)

“Oh shit.” You mumbled, snapping out of your daze, you had to focus! This was a stranger for crying out loud, “Who the-”

Before you could even say anything more, his eyes shot open and you’re greeted by chocolate brown eyes. You try to stutter out a reply, clearly in your frazzled state the only thing you could let out was, “What the fuck?”

“Oh, you’re awake.” his voice was deep and quite raspy, and daresay, it suited his rather sharp appearance.

Was this stranger awake this whole time that you were gawking at him under the dim light? Your ears turn even a brighter shade of pink. Was it just the heater or was this room getting hotter than it should be?

Yet despite your flustered state though, he thankfully remains oblivious, “Are you feeling any better?” he asks.

Despite his bland facial expression, there was a certain warmth in his tone and that made your heart beat quicken. It wasn’t everyday that you’d wake up to find a good looking older gentleman next to you after all, “I’m good…” You shyly replied, the confidence you had moments ago while you were cursing him was gone when you heard his soft tone, “I- sorry but who are you? What happened?”

He stares at you for a moment and purses his lips, “Nanami Kento.” he introduces himself briefly. From the likes of it, he seemed like a professional, “To be honest, I don’t have much recollection from last night due to the alcohol. When I woke up a few moments ago, you wouldn’t let go and I had no choice but to lay there and wait for you to wake up.”

You paled just a bit at his explanation and turned bright red right after, how embarrassing! Not only did you just embarrass yourself in front of this older gentleman awhile ago, you did something so unlike you last night! Thank god this ojisan was a lot more calmer than you. He didn’t even look that perplexed or annoyed by your state at all.

He runs his hands through his soft blonde hair after and lets out a low groan.

“D-Does your head hurt, Nanami-san?”

“Yes.”

“I-would you-” you tried to stammer a few words out yet you're immediately cut off by his phone ringing.

Right, boundaries. You shouldn’t overstep them since you already did so much last night to disturb him despite you two being so out of it. You watch him as he answers his cell phone in a quick and suave manner, all traces of hungover gone, “Nanami speaking.” He greets as soon as he answers the call, “I understand. Please try to help them out and I apologize for the inconvenience.”

He ends the call and stands up, tightening his tie. Despite him spending the night here, he still looked orderly and it’s so unfair because right now, you knew you looked like absolute shit with the alcohol and booze in your system.

“I have to take my leave now. I apologize for intruding.” he bows down formally.

You’re pretty sure you were the one who intruded, his actions makes you immediately stand up despite the throbbing headache which was definitely a wrong move because the moment you did, you felt your legs giving out.

Great.

“I-sorry, I would bow…” You tried to stammer out an apology, ears bright red once again, just how much could you embarrass yourself in front of this gentleman?  “Sorry for the intrusion too Nanami-san.”

He leaves without saying anything much to your relief and as soon as you hear your front door close, you scream right at the pillow.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” You muffled at the pillow.

Thank God you wouldn’t be seeing him ever again!

“L/N-sensei.”

You turn to find Maki and Megumi standing there, they were members of a rather elite family in Tokyo, Most often you avoided bumping shoulders with Megumi’s father since he was, well, quite a tease and although you do admit that Toji Zen’in is a very good-looking and fine man from a very good background, you couldn’t look past the fact that you taught his kids mathematics and there was a good fifteen year age gap between you two, “Hi there.” A warm smile dances on your lips, “Is this about the earlier math problem again?”

The question was directed to Maki, Megumi wasn’t one to ask questions about his lessons since he wasn’t fond of academics.

“Actually, it isn’t. Toji-ojisan says you should come to his birthday.” Maki shrugged, “He says his 40th birthday wouldn’t be complete if you weren’t there.”

Ah, that’s why Megumi didn’t want to go alone. The young boy’s cheeks are painted pink, clearly embarrassed by his father’s antics, “Ah,” You laughed, trying to play it cool. Despite his father’s relentless teasing, he had never made you feel uncomfortable. If he hadn’t been asking you out a few times, you’d consider him a friend, “Your otosan does love to joke around a lot doesn’t he, Megumi-kun?”

“I could deck him for you if you’d like, sensei. I swear that old man needs to realize that you’re way too young and good for him.” He mumbles the last part, clearly annoyed.

“Oh have you gotten married, L/N-sensei?” Maki cuts her younger cousin off suddenly, clearly surprised, “I thought you never had a boyfriend..or girlfriend...or a lover…”

“I- excuse me?” You sweatdrop, “Married, where?”

“Am I mistaken? You have a silver band on your ring finger at your left hand.” Maki points out, “Congrats sensei! It seems like Toji-ojisan won’t be bothering you anymore!”

You were too much in a frazzled state this morning that you hadn’t even noticed the ring band on your finger. You weren’t married, heck, you haven’t dated since college but where in the hell did you get this ring?

“L/N-san?” You’re snapped back to reality by a coworker, “We have two new enrollees, would you mind handling them since they’ll be added to your section?”

“Right,” You smile, “That’s my cue to leave. I’ll get going now. Enjoy your snack time.”

Before Maki could say anything more about the silverband on your ring finger, you scurried away to the faculty room, shaking that weird feeling off since you had to get back to work. 

Job first, ring later.

As you went in, two abnormally bleached pink hair stood out and you could immediately tell that they were going to be the new kids that you’d be teaching. You walk closer, realizing how much they looked alike despite the markings on the other.

“Hi, Good morning.” You greeted kindly, “You must be the new kids.”

“Ah,” the one with tattoo markings on his face gloated, “Aren’t you too bright?”

“Sukuna, shut up.” his twin frowned, “Sorry Sensei, My brother isn’t feeling so well since our ojisan had told us off before going to school.”

It seemed like the other twin would be a handful, nevertheless, you were still going to be his teacher so you let out a small smile, “It’s fine.” You waved off, “We all have bad days, don’t we? I’m L/N-sensei and I’ll be your homeroom and math teacher.”

“Hai.” The one without tattoos replied, enthusiasm leaking on his tone, “Itadori Yuuji and this is Itadori Sukuna, please take care of us.”

You watch Yuuji force his twin to bow down to show a sign of respect. For a high schooler, Sukuna and Yuuji’s parents seemed so lax, bleached hair and tattoos? That was definitely a first one on your list. You take a look at the data they passed and a small frown settles on your lips, it seemed like you had to take back the words you said earlier.

Both their parents had died a few years ago.

You cleared your throat and tried to put on the smile and enthusiasm from earlier, “I’ll be sure to introduce you to the class right after break and since it’s your first day I’ll be lax but please try not to go in late again.”

Yuuji’s grin remains the same as he agrees enthusiastically while Sukuna still looks mildly uninterested, something that you realize oh-so quickly that you’ll have to get used to.

After introducing the twins to the class, you settle on your desk at the faculty and peer at the ring on your finger. The only conclusion you could come up with was that this was from the older gentleman from the night before but why would he even give you a ring?

It didn’t even look cheap and it was surprisingly just your size, meaning it was definitely for you.

You inwardly let out a groan as you placed your hand on top of your eyes. God, you definitely needed to lay off the alcohol next time. You feel the phone in your pocket start to ring, peerlessly glancing at the unknown number. People really need to lay off the scam calls.

“Hello, I’m sorry I’m not-”

“Yo-ho, is this Y/N-chan?” The voice on the other line is so unfamiliar yet familiar at the same time.

“Uh, who is this?”

“Is your husband with you?” the voice sounds so playful and teasing that you almost ignore what he had just said earlier.

“E-Excuse me?” You sputtered out, cheeks turning red, “I don’t have a husband.”

“Huh…” the playful voice switches to disappointment, “Don’t tell me you forgot what happened with us last night, L/N-chan.”

You feel something bubbling on your stomach, oh no, this definitely didn’t sound good!

“I- wait, what? who are you? What do you mean? what happened?” countless of questions started to pile up in your head and out of your mouth, panic immediately engulfing you because for a prank call this guy sounded way too legit, confirming your irresponsibility the night before. 

“Silly Y/N-chan. How could you ever forget me? I’m such an important person! I’m Gojo Satoru, your witness from your wedding!” 

taglist (if crossed out, i cant tag u im so sorry ack ;-;)

 ; @coldbookworm  ; @frankenstein852  ;  @neavil​  ; @shephard17895​   @kristineyoshaii​ ; @airybnb​​

@Kurok1717 ;  @hcn421 ;  @shinhiromi ;  @airybnb ;    ; ​

[butwhyduh]

Screaming

Jason todd x reader

Warning: ptsd and negative thoughts. Angsty.

Jason gasped awake and threw himself to sit up in bed. His throat was raw with screaming and he trembled. Death. All he saw was his death. No that’s not true. He saw everyone’s death. Dick’s, Bruce’s, Damian’s. Hell even yours despite the fact that had never happened. He saw them all in bright technicolor like he was really there. His hands found purchase in the sheets and he gripped them tight.

When you die, some people believe you see God or all your dead relatives in some kind of heaven airport. But really the light fades and you feel so fucking cold and alone. Every night Jason got to experience a little taste of it again. The nightmares were awful but the moments before realizing he’s alive and awake and still feeling dead and alone were horrifying.

His movement had woke you. You had fallen asleep in earbuds again. That’s why his screams didn’t bother you. You gently grasped his shoulder as you pulled them off.

“Jason, I’m here. Are you okay,” you said softly, treating him so delicately. Jason tried to control his breathing. You looked at him with such a concern that his heart wanted to break. He was already broken. His mind was so fucked up but you still slept in bed beside him. Next to a dead man.

“Are you okay, Jaybird,” you repeated. He nodded roughly but you could tell that he was still in his head. You pulled him into a hug. His arms wrapped around your body as he curled around you and his fingers clung to your shirt. His breath shivered against your neck.

“I’m right here. You’re okay. It was just a dream,” you told him in a low steady voice like the therapist taught you.

“Thank you,” Jason’s said after a minute. His voice sounded hoarse.

“Of course. Let’s lay back down. Do you want some water?” You asked and he shook his head roughly.

“Just... just stay,” he said holding tighter. You laid down in the bed and Jason laid his head on your chest. You ran your fingers through his hair until his grip relaxed completely and he fell asleep. Despite the fact that your presence was a huge comfort, it didn’t stop the nightmares. Nothing did.

——————————

“Jason, you can tell me anything,” said the therapist. She had a clipboard on the knee of her slacks as she sat back in her chair. “I know your life has been... unusual, but you need to talk to someone. Near death experiences are traumatic. Keeping all of that inside can be very harmful.”

“It was a death experience. Not near,” he reminded her. She sighed. “I was buried in the ground.”

“But you are here. That makes it near death. A little more complex but that’s what happens in Gotham,” she said with a shrug. “Everything is more complex here. I once dated a villain without knowing it until he ended up in Arkham.”

“I’ve got to ask who,” Jason said, happy for the distraction.

“I’m definitely not talking about it. This is your time. Let’s talk about something you do want to talk about. How are things with Y/n?” She said. It was Jason’s turn to sigh.

“Things are great.”

“Why the sigh?”

“Because I’m broken. I’m half here and half in the grave. She’s saving me from my dreams every other night. I worry she’ll wise up and leave,” Jason admitted.

“Sounds like she loves you. Have you considered that she wants to help you? Have you told her what happened? Have you opened up to her?” She asked. Jason’s hand gripped the chair tightly.

“No, I can’t. She’s too nice to know everything. I- I can’t. She knows I died and came back but not how or why or all the horrible stuff that I did afterwards,” he said staring at the ground.

“Do you worry that she’ll leave if she knows the truth?” The therapist asked softly and Jason’s head snapped up to look at her.

“Of course. Wouldn’t you?” He said. His face had twisted in anxiety.

“I do know the truth. I haven’t left. I still care about you,” she reminded him.

“You’re paid a shitload of money by Bruce Wayne,” he retorted.

“Language. He pays the standard fee like everyone else,” she said. “My advice? Talk to her. Let her know about your anxieties. You have a long journey with ptsd but you’ve healed so much these past few months. Don’t you see that?”

“I guess,” he said quietly but she was right. He used to have flashbacks in the middle of the day. He would flinch at anyone touching him. There was no way he would date someone. Things are better but not good.

“Talk to her. That’s your homework. Even just something small,” she said. Jason nodded reluctantly. He knew his therapist was right but it still sucked.

—————————

Jason came home to you in the kitchen. You were humming along to the radio as you cleaned the sink. He watched you for a minute as your hips swayed to the music. He couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight. You hadn’t noticed him yet.

Jason cleared his throat and you jumped before laughing. You put down the rag and smiled at him. He waved a bag of donuts and a tray holding two coffees at you.

“Well aren’t you a sight,” you said walking over and grabbing the tray. “Coffee and donuts. From the place on 9th?”

“Like I’d go anywhere else. Yours has the x for extra caramel,” he said. You kissed his cheek and he could smell the clean lemon bleach smell on you.

“Aww just like I like it, thanks Jaybird,” you cooed before sitting on the couch. He awkwardly sat on the coffee table instead of the couch. Let’s rip off the bandage, right? You looked up at him confused.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to you. About... stuff. In my past,” he said and you sat back at the weight of it. He’d never wanted to talk about that. You sat the coffee on the table.

“Okay. Sure.”

“I told you that I died and came back and became Red Hood, right?” He asked and you nodded. “But I had a suit before I died.”

He played with his fingers and gulped. “I was Robin and I worked with Batman.”

You tried to control your shock on your face. He might take it as a judgment and you didn’t want that. He shuffled around with nerves.

“I died as Robin. I’m the dead Robin,” he said. It was infamous that one of the Robins died. And the death apparently was really bad. Closed casket and all. No wonder Jason had horrible nightmares. “I was killed by the Joker.”

He bent and grabbed his drink and took a sip. You placed a hand on his knee and he gave you a half smile. “You aren’t done are you?” You asked after a minute.

“My therapist told me to talk to you,” Jason said somehow sounding more nervous.

“Hey, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. It’s fine-“

“I need to. I... I worry that you’ll leave. That you’ll get tired of this. Me being broken,” he said and you inhaled quickly.

“I would never. You aren’t broken. You’re the best guy I’ve ever dated. I just wished you could see it,” you said cupping his face with your free hand. He frowned. “You’re irreplaceable to me. Truly.”

Jason held your wrist on the hand cupping his face. He searched your eyes for lies or doubt. He looked close to crying and it was hard to see.

“Jason. Worry about what you need to do for yourself and not another second of me leaving. I’m not going anywhere. You’ll have to throw me out. I’m spoiled with coffee and donuts. You aren’t getting out that easily,” you said with a little smile. He smiled lopsidedly back at you.

“Okay.”

“Yeah? Wanna watch Die Hard and lay on my boobs?” You said and his face split into a laugh.

“How did I get so lucky? Of course I want to. Boobs and Die hard. Pretty perfect pair I have to say,” he said pulling you down on the couch.

“Boobs or Die Hard?”

“Both,” he said snuggling close. You played with his hair as the movie started knowing he probably wouldn’t stay awake long. He needed to make up for his missing the night before. It wasn’t long until his body relaxed and you could tell he finally fell asleep.

You weren’t fixing him. You weren’t the answer to his problem. But you could be a light when he felt at the bottom of the well to help him crawl back up. A friend to lean on. A shoulder to cry on. And a lover to let him know that he wasn’t alone. That he was on the right side of morality. Someone good to see the good in him. Healing is a journey and he was so fucking grateful to have someone to there with him.

[snackhobi]

pairing: yoongi x reader // word count: 15.8k // genre: smut

summary: your idea of a good night certainly doesn't involve being stood up by yet another blind date and finding yourself alone in a fancy bar; fortunately for you, there's an attractive man playing the piano to keep you busy, instead.

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), cursing, minor consumption of alcohol, oral (m and f receiving), protected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, pet names, slight exhibitionism, slight praise kink, light dom/sub undertones if you squint ig (reader is kind of subby)

– –

Throughout the years of your life, you've learned a few things. Some of them are pretty obvious (buying suspiciously cheap sushi from a petrol station is like playing Russian Roulette with food poisoning and diarrhoea), some of them are less so (just because something is 'on sale' doesn't actually mean that it's cheaper if they'd increased the overall price beforehand), but one thing that you're only just starting to learn is that— for all that Jimin says otherwise— blind dates will always stand you up.

jiminnie is he there yet??

you to my entire lack of surprise, no. i'm starting to wonder if this 'hoseok-hyung' of yours even exists tbh i should have been suspicious from the second you called him a 'friend' bc that implies that you HAVE friends

jiminnie ok RUDE. we're friends??

you suddenly i can't read

The two of you had been outrageously drunk after a night out on the town, once, and Jungkook had come to collect his tipsy boyfriend, and you'd seen the fond way he'd watched Jimin despite his messy behaviour— how he'd given Jimin a piggyback even though it must have been hard with the way Jimin had been squirming and laughing and kicking his legs back and forth— and your heart had squeezed tight in your chest. (You'd been so drunk.)

It had honestly been a slip of the tongue when you'd revealed to Jimin that you were kind of maybe feeling somewhat lonely, a little bit, potentially. You'd had one night stands and short flings but it's been a long time since you've been in an actual relationship, a long time since you've really clicked with someone. Maybe part of you had been missing it, that connection with another person. Normally you're fine with being single, but Jungkook and Jimin are so in love that it spills out from them and you guess in the moment you'd wanted to feel that, too.

You blame the alcohol. You also blame your own loose lips. And Jimin, you blame him too, for persuading you to go clubbing in the first place. You don't even remember what you'd said, waking up with a headache the weight and size of a tectonic plate, groaning at the pain of the morning light stabbing into your eyes, but with no recollection of your admittance that maybe you were tired of being single. Your best friend, however— despite having drunk more than you— could recall the previous night with crystalline clarity, much to your horror and embarrassment. And, because Jimin is Jimin, he'd latched onto what you'd said with the tenacity of a dog with a bone.

Fast forward to where you're sitting now, on yet another arranged date that he's planned for you— and once again, you've been stood up.

you i'm starting to wonder if any of the people you've tried to set me up with are even real

jiminnie omg they ARE you had a nice time with lisa??

Okay, so you hadn't been stood up for every date. Lisa had been the only person who'd shown up, and she was cute and friendly and you got on like a house on fire, but you'd very quickly found out that she was actually head over heels for her best friend Jennie. You being you, your first date had rapidly turned into you giving your new friend a pep-talk and hyping her up— and suffice to say you've been having weekly girl's brunches with Lisa and her now-girlfriend Jennie ever since. So, yes, technically you haven't been stood up every time, but still.

you yes, my ideal first date involves telling the other person that their best friend is definitely in love with them too :))

jiminnie I'VE ALREADY SAID THAT I'M SORRY :(

you LMAO it's fine, it's always nice to make friends but seriously minnie, like,, if your friends are going to stand me up, could you at least have had the decency to organise the date somewhere less fancy? i spent ages getting ready and noah fence it kind of feels like i just wasted a bunch of my time,,

Jimin doesn't fuck around. From the outside the bar, Dionysus, exudes a quiet aura of exclusivity. Inside, however, it has a surprisingly understated atmosphere despite its namesake being the Grecian god of Getting Turnt, the sleek interior paired with soft lighting and stylish fixtures, elegant. 

Either way, it's the kind of place that warrants you actually pulling out the stops with your outfit and makeup; you rarely have a reason to doll yourself up like this and it makes a nice change of pace, but it seems like you shouldn't have bothered. What's the point in putting on a cute dress and nice heels, or doing your hair and opening your expensive Too Faced eyeshadow palette for the first time, if you're just going to be sitting alone at a bar all night? At least you don't stick out, which is good, you guess.

You are the only person who's alone, though. It's midweek and everyone else is seated around one of the tables, couples and groups that are engaged in quiet discussion or watching the show— there's a small stage where there's a quartet performing live music— but you're perched on one of the barstools, tapping away at your phone, alone. If anyone were to pay any attention it would be obvious that you've been stood up, but they're all too busy having an enjoyable evening to spare a glance at the girl sitting by herself at the bar.

The only person who's paying attention to you is the bartender. He's clearly good at his job, keeping an eye on you and making you feel welcome without seeming like he's hovering; he doesn't act like you're being an inconvenience, but you give him a hefty tip each time you order a new drink anyway. Hoseok might not be turning up tonight but if you've gone to the effort of dressing this nicely and getting a taxi here then goddamn you're going to make the most of it.

It takes forty two minutes and three virgin cocktails before the handsome bartender speaks to you, saying something beyond the customary back and forth you've had so far as he hands you your next mocktail. 

"Are your friends usually this late?"

You let out a little huff of laughter. "Something like that." Normally you'd be more hesitant to speak to a stranger like this, but the bartender's eyes are warm and his smile seems genuine and from what you can tell, he's just making that sure you're okay. "Seems like it'll just be me for tonight."

"You're welcome to stay and wait as long as you like," he says, and you can't help but quirk a grin at him.

"I bet you say that to all the paying customers."

He laughs and raises his hands in surrender. "You got me." And then: "If you want another drink, just give me a shout. I'm Seokjin, but everyone calls me Jin."

"As in, Jin and tonic?" You smile. "Sure. I'll be sure to remember that. I'm Y/n."

"Nice to meet you, Y/n." Jin gives you a grin before disappearing down the other side of the bar to make drinks for some other customers. Your own smile slowly fades, and then turns into a frown, eyes landing on the clock on the wall; Hoseok is forty five minutes late at this point. (You know he's not going to show.) It's been so long that the musicians on the stage have finished their set and are leaving, a different performer about to step on, and you sigh. You'll finish this last drink and then you'll go.

You use your straw to stir the mint leaves and ice cubes around, muddling the flavours in your glass. You haven't really been paying attention to the music before now; you couldn't name the songs that have been performed so far, but they're common enough that you'd recognised the sound of them, the sort of music that most people could hum along to but probably wouldn't know the origin of. Easy listening. Pleasant, but nothing new. It's clearly more about setting a nice backdrop to the bar rather than music for music's sake. A background noise, rather than acting as the focal point of the bar.

You assume this is going to be the case for the next musician, and so you barely pay any mind as the he takes to the stage alone; you're looking down at your glass as he sits at the piano and puts his feet on the pedals and places his hands on the keys, but then, he starts to play.

Your eyes snap up. A chord hangs in the air, extended, haunting; a crescendo into a light melody; the chords dip, waters dark and deep while he weaves the higher notes with infinite softness, ebbing notes that fade into each other, his fingers dancing across the keys with grace and ease. You notice with a throb in your chest that he has no sheet music. He's pulling this music from inside him, his mind, entirely from his own memory.

His eyes are cast down as he watches his hands, but you can see how they slip shut whenever he tilts his head back, fringe hanging over them. His hair is bleached blond but he clearly hasn't been maintaining the look, with dark roots starting to show through. His posture is horrible, his spine a little curved as he slouches forward, and he's not dressed as sharply as the other musicians had been— there's no tie around his neck and he has a multitude of earrings in, rings on his fingers, changing his outfit into something a little messy and different and entirely unique.

He's fucking breathtaking.

Without realising, you've swivelled away from the bar to watch him. Your drink is still clutched in your hand but you pay it no mind, condensation gathering on the cold glass and dripping down your fingers the longer you sit there, ice cubes melting as he finishes his first song and moves onto the next. Same as the first, you don't recognise it, the melody echoing deep in your chest, speaking of some feeling that you can't put a name to, each sliding arpeggio and chord reaching inside you and hanging there, little glowing droplets that shine out like moonlight.

Each of his pieces are entirely different and yet they all feel like him, somehow. Strong and soft and lovely and aching. The water from your glass has pitter-pattered onto your lap, darkening the fabric of your dress in some nameless constellation, but you don't notice. Your world has narrowed down to: the sound of his music, the motions of his hands, the way he bends into the notes, him. 

Your eyes trace his profile, the cat-like eyes, the round of his nose, the pout of his lips, falling into the way he lifts his chin and tilts his head; thoughtless, gorgeous.

You don't realise that it's over until it's over. The final notes hang in the air, crystallising, and then they fade. He finishes with little fanfare, tilting a polite nod at the audience that claps for him, and then he slips off the stage and is gone just as quickly as he had come. You blink, coming back to yourself; you feel like you're rising out of deep water, motions slow and heavy, and you don't know how long you've been sitting there, entirely entranced. You'd been too distracted to clap. You'd just sat and watched in silence as he'd turned to leave, barely sparing the room a glance.

"Good, isn't he?"

Normally you would have startled at Jin's sudden appearance. Instead you just blink again, still trying to shake off the daze you've found yourself in. "Yeah." Your voice is hoarse. You clear your throat and suck in a breath and put your drink down, dripping wetness that leaves a ring on the smooth wood of the bar, and try to speak normally this time, willing your voice to be level. "Yes. He's very good."

"Yoongi is here at the same time every week," Jin supplies, tone conversational, like he's just having a regular chat. Yoongi. His name is Yoongi. You wonder if Jin can hear how your heart is pounding, the galloping hooves of a wild horse that tumble in your chest. You try to keep your expression stoic as you look at him, scared that he'll be able to read what's written across your face— but he's smiling at you in the same way as before. Just a barkeeper who's trying to get a return customer. (Although, you'd swear there was a glint in his eye for the briefest moment, but then it's gone.) "He changes the set each time, if you're interested in coming back to hear something new."

Your mouth feels dry and you swallow, trying to wet your lips. Dionysus is too fancy of a place to ask customers for tips for the musicians, but— "Can I buy him a drink?"

Jin cocks his head at you. "A drink? For Yoongi?"

"Yes," you say. You feel a little shy when you spot his expression, biting your lip. "I just really enjoyed the music, and I'd like to tip him somehow? Is that a normal thing that people do?"

Jin pauses, and then smiles. This smile is a little wider than the ones he's given you before, different, but he seems pleased. "Who cares about what's normal? I'll get a drink to him. What would you like?"

"Um, whatever he prefers," you say. You figure that Jin would have a better idea about what that is than you, which is proven true by his almost instantaneous reply.

"He likes red wine, or whisky, neat. I think tonight is a whisky kind of night." He's already going through the motions of putting the drink together, and you slide him money as he begins to pour. You know nothing about Yoongi but you can't help but feel like the drink suits him— simple, classic, masculine. "Do you want me to pass on a message for you?"

"Um, you can just say that it's from someone who enjoyed the music, I guess?" You giggle a little, feeling awkward and off balance. Jin is looking at you like he's expecting you to say something else, but you just want to express your enjoyment of Yoongi's music and nothing more. You don't— you don't want to be weird, you just like the sound of his piano playing.

Jin disappears into the back with the glass of whisky, and you finish the watery remnants of your drink before you leave, ice cubes completely melted in the— wow— forty minutes that Yoongi had been playing. It hadn't felt that long at all.

It's not until you're stepping through your front door that you realise you haven't looked at your phone since before the beginning of Yoongi's set. Jimin's messages have been changing from apologetic to concerned to downright frantic.

jiminnie Y/N BLINK TWICE IF YOU NEED HELP

you how many times should i blink if i don't need help?

jiminnie omg you're ALIVE where were you?? i was starting to get worried

you sorry i got distracted! but i'm fine, i'm at home hoseok never showed

jiminnie yeah i know :(( he messaged me saying he had an emergency and couldn't make it tonight but he's free this weekend??

you … remember when i said that this was the last blind date i was going to go on?

jiminnie it doesn't count as a date if hyung never turned up!!!

you that isn't true and you know it omg minnie… i appreciate what you're trying to do but pls bb. let it rest

jiminnie i just want you to be happy :((

you i don't have to be in a relationship to be happy

jiminnie you said you were lonely!

you omg i was DRUNK let it GO besides being stood up by multiple blind dates isn't going to help me feel less lonely lmao i get that you're happy in your relationship with kookie and you want to spread that happiness but you don't have to!! i'm fine!! yeah i get lonely sometimes but what single person doesn't?? i'm happy being by myself hhhhh

jiminnie fine :(( but if you change your mind, hobi-hyung would still love to meet you!

As you kick off your heels, humming a bar of Yoongi's music to yourself, you think that Hoseok probably shouldn't bother holding his breath.

(That night, when you sleep, you dream of dark eyes and the press of a sinfully perfect cupid's bow against your own lips, a pair of large hands drawing noises from you like a glissando, rings cool against your heated skin.)

–

Wednesday nights become a ritual of sorts. You get dressed, do your hair, match your makeup to your outfit and shoes, coordinating your look into something that doesn't look out of place in Dionysus before you hop into a taxi and make your way to the bar.

You're a firm regular by now. Your seat has become just that, your seat, the same one you'd been sitting in the first time you'd been there; it's towards the dimmer lights at the back and so you're sitting further away from the stage than you might like, but at least you can see the whole room from here. You turn up twenty minutes before Yoongi's set and Jin always greets you warmly when he sees you: you've quickly come to enjoy your chats. Jin is always unashamedly himself and the two of you joke and laugh as he works, but he always knows to leave you alone as soon as Yoongi steps onto the stage. 

For the next forty minutes the rest of the world fades away as you drink Yoongi and his music in, listen to the lilting notes he coaxes out of the piano, watch how his fingers rest on each key before he slides into his next piece, reverent.

You never ever explicitly mention Yoongi in your conversations with Jin, though. The bartender seems to bring the musician up anyway; he does it smoothly, in a way that's utterly casual, and he seems to know a surprising amount about someone who is, by all accounts, a very private person. (You're not complaining about the fact that you now know that Yoongi wears Kumamon slippers because his feet get cold easily— "he's cold blooded, like a lizard," apparently— but you do wonder how Jin knows that.)

The Yoongi that Jin describes is just as beautiful as the man you see on stage, but less mysterious, less distant— and yet he still intimidates you. 

Jin might be his friend but to you Yoongi is unapproachable. Untouchable. To him you're just a nameless face in the audience, nothing more. His eyes will slide across the room before he starts his performance, but he never seems to notice you; it's no surprise, sitting where you do, in an area of relative darkness in comparison to the rest of the bar, and once he sits down he only looks at the piano under his hands. He has no eyes for anything else. You're far enough away and his lashes are cast so low that even when his eyes are open it's hard for you to see where he's looking, and the shadow of his fringe hides how his pupils scan his hands as he plays, anyway.

Every week, when the set draws to a close, Jin is already pouring Yoongi's whisky or wine and you slide him the exact amount of change. Every week, Jin asks if you want to pass on a message, and every week, you say the same thing: that it's from someone who enjoyed the music. And that's that. Jin will disappear to give Yoongi his drink and you'll finish your own drink in quiet solitude before you slide off your barstool to go home.

(The only thing that's changed over the weeks is that the music Yoongi plays seems to be a little lighter and— dare you say— happier? He still looks down at the piano with the same intensity, still lays his hands on the keys with the same delicate pressing weight before he begins to play— but with some songs he seems to be teasing the music out, flirting with each note, eyelashes fluttering as he lifts his chin and moves his hands.

You're not a musician by any means, so you don't know how to describe it with any sort of accuracy or terminology, but to you it's like the deep waters of Yoongi's music have been cut through with light, beams of sun rippling through the dark blue. You don't know what's caused this change, the slow uplift in his mood throughout the weeks, but you hope he manages to keep hold of it, whatever it is.)

Between work and studying and volunteering and making time to see friends, you don't often have time entirely to yourself, and so Wednesday nights are a rare moment of peace during your otherwise busy week. That's why when Jimin says that he's had to rearrange your weekly film night to Wednesday— because he and Jungkook are going down to Busan to see each other's families this weekend— you decline. 

Jimin is rendered speechless and demands to know why.

"I'm busy," is your answer. Jimin doesn't buy it.

"You're never too busy for movie night," he says. "Wednesday is the only night we're all free."

"Well, I'm not free, Minnie. Sorry," you say. His head is in your lap, your fingers gently stroking his hair, and you can easily see the way his face contorts with disbelief as he stares up at you.

"Do you hear that, babe? Y/n is too busy for our weekly tradition." Jimin sounds scandalised.

Jimin is stretched out between the two of you— while his head is in your lap, his feet are in Jungkook's, the younger man idly massaging his boyfriend's ankles and feet. "Yes, babe, I heard," Jungkook says, indulgent.

"What's more important than movie night?" Jimin lifts one of his legs and Jungkook turns his attention to that one, digging his fingers into the arch of Jimin's foot. Jimin sighs in relief, but then turns the full force of his stare back at you. "We were going to watch Spirited Away. You love Spirited Away."

"I'm just busy," you say, and that had been your mistake. You should have had some sort of credible reason but you hadn't been prepared, and while he hadn't made it obvious at the time, Jimin had latched onto your vague excuse, sniffing out weakness like a shark with blood in the water. If you'd been paying attention you'd have noticed, but you hadn't paid attention and so you hadn't noticed. (Whoops.)

And so, Wednesday night that week is the same as always; Yoongi plays his music, you fall a little bit more in love, and pass your compliments to him with Jin as the mouthpiece. You go home, wash your makeup off, and arch into the touch of your own hand while imagining it's someone else's fingers sliding across your skin. Routine. Normal. Uninterrupted. Peaceful.

The next week, however, it all goes to shit.

Okay. Maybe that's a little dramatic. It's not as bad as all that. The night starts as normal: you're on your stool, and you have your drink, and you have ten minutes until Yoongi is due to play, shifting to get comfortable, crossing your legs.

But then: 

"Oh my God, you're wearing your come fuck me heels," comes Jimin's voice from behind you, and your blood turns to ice.

You turn on the barstool so fast you almost fall off it. You come face to face with Jimin who has an expression of what can only be described as sheer delight on his face. He's even dressed appropriately for the bar, a silk shirt tucked into his Very Tight jeans and a subtle smoky eye to top it off; Jungkook looks nice, too, but you have no doubt that he's only here under sufferance, if the infinitely apologetic look on his face is anything to go by.

"Jimin?" Your voice comes out as a hiss. If you were a cat your back would be up and your hackles would be raised and all your fur would be on end, your entire body going into fight mode. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see for myself what was more important than movie night," Jimin says simply, like it's obvious. "So here we are."

"Sorry, Y/n," Jungkook apologises from over his boyfriend's shoulder. Jimin ignores him.

You can feel how your face is starting to flush, your skin crawling with embarrassment. You change your outfit every week and your friends have managed to turn up on the one week where you've cycled into what could probably be considered your most promiscuous one, the hem of your dress high and the cut of it low, along with shoes that Jimin had rightfully named as your Come Fuck Me heels. It wasn't because you were trying to seduce anyone but you only have so many items in your wardrobe that are appropriate for Dionysus. 

"How did you find me?"

"I have my ways," Jimin says mysteriously.

"He stalked your Bitmoji on Snapchat. Ow." Jungkook pouts as Jimin slaps his arm. "Sorry, again. I said we should leave you alone but Jimin said we should check in case you'd been kidnapped because you never willingly go into bars."

You're interrupted by Jin, who'd been busy serving someone when your idiot friends had turned up; he leans across the bar and touches your shoulder and fixes Jimin and Jungkook with the most intimidating look you've ever seen on his face. You know Jin as a light-hearted pun master, harmless and goofy and approachable, a great friend— but right now he looks like some sort of beautiful guardian angel, broad shouldered and narrow eyed and honestly, pretty menacing. 

"Are you alright?" He keeps his eyes on the other two men as he speaks. "Are these guys bothering you?"

Jimin, rather than looking cowed, looks like he's reached a stage of absolute euphoria, eyes darting between Jin's hand on your shoulder to your face. Jungkook's face, meanwhile, is doing that thing it does whenever someone issues him some kind of challenge, his sweetness abruptly being swallowed by his competitive side and his stubborn refusal to lose anything. You're the only person who has the power to save this situation before it goes absolutely tits up, and you swallow down a resigned sigh.

"I'm fine, thank you, Jin," you say, looking at him with a smile as you pat the hand on your shoulder. "Unfortunately these guys are my friends, much to my infinite suffering. Well, Jungkook's alright. Jimin is the one who's the pain."

"Hey," Jimin whines. Jungkook looks quietly pleased, but pretends to scowl when Jimin looks at him, offended on his boyfriend's behalf.

Jin still seems unhappy but pulls his hand back. "Alright," he says, but then he pitches his voice low so that only you can hear: "If you need any help, just ask me for a rum and soda, okay?"

You always order mocktails whenever you're here, wanting to stay completely sober so that you can enjoy Yoongi's playing with all the attention it deserves. You've never asked for anything alcoholic, least of all a rum and soda. Although you really are okay, you can't help but be warmed by Jin's concern for you and how he's offering you this careful, considerate lifeline in case you need it. "I will do. Thanks, Jinnie."

He smiles at you and then gives Jungkook and Jimin one final frown before going to deal with a gaggle of customers who've gathered at the other end of the bar. While Jungkook remains standing, taking in the interior of the bar with wide eyes, Jimin slides onto the stool next to yours.

"He's fucking hot," Jimin says with no preamble, eyeing Jin without shame as the bartender starts to pour and mix different drinks. Jungkook makes a disgruntled noise but settles when Jimin pats him fondly on the butt. "I'm not surprised you're wearing those heels. I would too if I were you."

"Oh my God, Jimin." You hide your face in your hands. "Jin is just a friend, please don't make this weird."

"Come on, Y/n, it's okay," Jimin says reassuringly as he pats your shoulder, replacing Jin's touch with his own. "The blind dates might not have worked out, but you've met someone nice so that's good! I mean, you did meet him because I organised the date here in the first place, but I'll let that slide. Also I can't believe you missed movie night because of a boy and you didn't tell me, but I'll let that slide too because I love you."

Park Jimin is your best friend. Park Jimin meddles in your life despite your protestations and isn't beyond being passive aggressive to get his way, but Park Jimin is also one of the nicest people you know and everything he does is because he loves you and will do whatever he thinks is necessary to reach his end goal of making you happy. He's magnanimous and kind and caring, and he also has absolutely the wrong idea right now, clearly under the impression that you're attracted to Seokjin and have been flirting with him for however many weeks it's been since you were meant to meet Hoseok here.

"No, seriously, Jimin, it's not Jin." You look at Jimin through the gaps in your fingers. "He's cute, yeah, but I don't come here because of him."

Your friend looks genuinely baffled, hand stilling on your shoulder. "Then why are you here?"

And, with perfect timing— as if your life is some badly written film or romantic drama— the clock ticks over to 8pm and Yoongi steps onto the stage. His hair is dark, blond replaced with black a few weeks ago, though it's still long enough that it hangs in his eyes; he looks a little ragged around the edges, a little messy, a little tired, and altogether beautiful. You want to touch the coolness of your fingertips to the dark circles under his eyes, want to press kisses across each of his bony knuckles, want to let your tongue settle in the hollow of his neck that shows each time he leans back and tilts his head up just so.

You hadn't even meant to but you'd turned away from Jimin the second you'd heard piano notes begin to play, drawn in by the sound like a moth to a flame. Jimin's hand falls off your shoulder and you hear him breathe out a quiet oh of realisation. You tear your eyes away from the sight of Yoongi at the piano and turn on your stool to face the bar again, gripping your glass with both hands, shoulders hunched.

"I like to watch him play," you say, and your voice is near a whisper, so as not to detract from the music.

"It's beautiful," Jungkook says, speaking before Jimin can say anything. His voice is quiet, too, not wanting to break over the sound of the piano. 

And so you hear with absolute clarity as Yoongi shifts mid-song into something different and it startles you. Yoongi always varies his music, always has something new, but you've been here often enough that you had recognised the opening song— it was one of your favourites— and you know that he's cut himself off before finishing, soft melody jumping into the opening bars of something different, sharper, a little angry, maybe sorrowful. Something that pulls at you and demands your attention.

Of course you give it to him. You swing your head away from your drink to watch him once more, watch how his motions have changed, the way he surges forward and presses his weight into his arms and down into his hands, his fingertips, the keys. You turn your entire body at this point, settling in your usual position for when you watch Yoongi; you see how his head tilts and he shifts from a minor into a major key, the same notes and chords transformed from something pensive into something joyful as he leans away from the heavier hands he'd been forcing the keys down with.

"How long does this go on for?" Jimin asks.

"About thirty or forty minutes," you answer. Though you turn your head back over your shoulder so that Jimin can hear you, you keep your eyes fixed on Yoongi. It's probably entirely coincidental, the sudden change in his music coinciding with when you turned away from him and when you looked back. He's not playing for you, he's playing for the whole bar, and besides, he's been looking down at the piano the whole time. He hasn't been looking at you.

And yet. The idea that Yoongi has noticed you and wants you to watch him has something hot settling low in your belly.

Jimin leans forward so that his chin is on your shoulder, talking directly into your ear as his hands wrap around your waist from behind. "This is the guy?"

Yoongi finishes the song and you watch in captivation as he swallows and runs a hand through his hair before he starts the next one. He's never done that before. Fuck. "Yes. Yoongi's the guy."

"Do you wait until he's finished so you can speak with him?" Jimin asks, ever curious.

You pause. "No," you admit. "No, I've never actually spoken to him."

Jimin doesn't ask why you've been coming back to see a guy you don't know and haven't talked to. He just hums gently. Jimin is pushy but he's also understanding and empathetic and knows what to say, when to press forward and when to hold back. It's one of the reasons you love him so much.

Jimin lapses into silence as Yoongi starts the next piece. It's one you haven't heard before and it's a little fiercer than most of Yoongi's recent songs. Rather than each note sliding into the next, he hammers them out separately, each note a statement that builds into something larger, a provocation. A storm gathering above Yoongi's waters, threatening to pull you in, pull you under.

Behind you, you hear Jungkook and Jimin briefly murmuring to each other, then Jimin's hands slide from off your waist and you hear the sound of him shifting so that Jungkook can sit down, Jimin using his boyfriend's lap as a chair instead. You have to wonder if the barstools can actually support that kind of weight, but Jin doesn't come over to tell them off, so you figure it must be okay.

On stage, Yoongi's hands pause, an uncharacteristic caesura that breaks the flow of the notes he'd been stringing together before he resumes playing as if this hiccup had never occurred. To anyone else, it would sound like that break was meant to be there, but you know better. You know Yoongi had faltered.

No way.

No way?

He's paying attention to you.

(Oh, shit.)

No way.

You're suddenly so overwhelmed that you actually feel nauseous. You've been consumed with thoughts of Yoongi for weeks, had images of him playing you just as easily as he does that piano, thoughts of him laying you out bare beneath him, but the idea that Yoongi actually knows who you are? Is aware of you on some level? Wants your eyes on him?

Fuck. 

It's too much. 

You're already off kilter from Jimin and Jungkook's arrival— as harmless as their appearance was meant to be— and this is the cherry on top. You don't know if you can keep your composure right now and you need to get away from Yoongi before you end up walking onto the stage and pulling him off that stupid piano stool to show him exactly how much you enjoy his music.

"Jimin? Jungkook? How about you say we go to a club and get absolutely shitfaced?"

You haven't looked away from Yoongi in the time that you've said this, but you can just feel the confusion emanating from the men behind you.

"But you—"

"I thought—"

"We're already dressed up, aren't we? Besides, I still owe you for film night, so drinks are on me."

There's little argument from them after that. For the first time since you've been coming here you leave before Yoongi's set is done, slipping out of the bar without noticing Jin's confused gaze on you. 

It's not until much later, once you've drunkenly fallen onto Jimin and Jungkook's couch, that the sober part of your brain whispers to you: you didn't buy Yoongi his drink.

(That night you dream of stormy skies and tattered sails and a capsizing ship. Once you wake, the memory of the dream quickly leaves you, and the last thing you remember is the sight of someone reaching towards you, pulling you out of the water, skin pale and head ringed with blond hair, a halo— and then you forget that too, slipping through your fingers like quicksand.)

–

Of course you go back to Dionysus the next week. You make Jimin promise that he won't turn up without warning again, and then you make Jungkook promise that he'll at least send you a heads-up message if Jimin changes his mind. Despite both these promises, after the debacle last week with your outfit, you've actually bought new clothes, so at least today you don't feel as scandalous. (You still look hot, though.)

You're grateful when Jin doesn't press you for details or ask why you left early last week. He just greets you like he normally does and predicts your order with his usual aptitude, and as you stir your drink with your straw, you have to wonder at what happened. You're probably overreacting, overthinking things, grasping at nothing; there is not a chance in hell that Min Yoongi, reclusive piano savant, has noticed you. No way. Nuh-uh.

He's probably only aware of your existence because of the repeated drinks you've had Jin foist on him. If anything he's probably annoyed at you after not tipping him with last week— he's probably come to expect them by now and you'd forced him to miss out. Maybe you'll get Jin to give him two drinks this week? Ooh, then again, maybe not. Is two shots of whisky a lot? People drink doubles, don't they. How strong is the wine he likes, anyway?

Yoongi's appearance on stage pulls you out of your thoughts. He makes his way up the steps, towards the piano, scans the room— and then for the first time since you've been coming here to watch him, he stops.

He stops because he's looking at you.

It's only for the briefest moment, eyes resting on you for maybe five seconds, and then you breathlessly watch as his mouth twists into something that can only be described as a smirk, pleased at the sight of you.

Oh, God.

He looks away and sits at the piano like he normally does, but you would swear that his back is a little straighter— something in his posture that reads as cockiness, even. He launches into a song that starts light but then almost immediately dances into something flirtatious, seductive, and tonight whenever Yoongi glances at you, he makes sure that you know. He turns his head just so, looks at you through the curve of his lashes, each touch of those dark eyes against your own sending little shivers through you, punching the breath out of your lungs.

You've always been entranced by Yoongi and tonight is no different. The minutes slide by as easy as water, liquid, music gliding over you like the rising tide, kissing your skin like the ebb and flow of the waves. It feels like he's barely started when his set is over and he's finished, standing up with as little ostentation as always before he vanishes off the stage.

You already have the money counted out before Jin has made his way over. You slide it towards him as he pours the whisky, but rather than asking if you have a message to pass to Yoongi, a look of consternation passes over his face.

"The price has gone up," Jin says, and you blink.

"Oh, that's no problem. How much is it now?" You're reaching for your purse to get more money out when Jin puts the whisky on the bar in front of you.

"No, don't worry, I'll just go out back and get the right change for you," he says. He says it with such confidence that it takes you a beat too long to realise that what he's just said makes no sense— why is he getting you change if you haven't even given him enough money? Isn’t there change in the till?— but by this point he's already gone, the staff door swinging shut behind him. 

You tilt your head, beyond confused.

Someone chuckles from behind you, the sound quiet and low. "Ah, cute."

You twist in your seat to see who's talking and then freeze. Yoongi is standing right there, looking at you with his dark, dark eyes; it's the first time you've been subjected to the full intensity of his gaze, from this close, and your pulse picks up. He looks a little softer without the lights of the small stage throwing him into sharp relief but his aura is just as intense; your eyes dart across each feature of his face as you drink him in— the mess of his fringe hanging into his sharp eyes, the faintest freckle on his nose, his surprisingly cute cheeks, his pink mouth.

The mouth that's curving into a sly little smile, now, your eyes flying back up to meet his own.

"I'm guessing this is for me?" He points at the whisky. He takes it before you can answer, and there's something unfairly erotic about how he drinks it: the way he holds the glass, swirling the whisky over the chilled rocks inside; the way his mouth falls open as the tumbler touches his lips; the way his head tilts back as he lets the liquor flow into his mouth, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

You shamelessly watch him the whole time. He lowers the glass from his lips, still a little parted as he takes a breath in, and then he's looking back at you. You have to bite back a noise that's risen up in your throat, unbidden. Does he know how much he affects you? 

You adjust your position on the barstool, thoughtlessly uncrossing and recrossing your legs as you regain your balance. Yoongi's eyes fly down to watch the motion and you're close enough to him that you see how his pupils dilate at the movement. A breath escapes your mouth, a little pant of air that you desperately mask as a cough as you try to calm the racing of your heart, the flood of arousal that's pulsing through you.

"I'm glad you like the whisky," you say, your voice steady despite how your legs feel like they're about to give out. (Thank god you're sitting down.) "I'm sorry to have deprived you of it last week."

Yoongi's shifted so that he's leaning against the bar. He's standing while you're still sitting and you have to tilt your head back to look at him. "You did seem like you were in an awful hurry," he says, a teasing lilt to his tone, and yet his voice is still so low, deeper than you'd imagined.

Despite the levity in his words there's something heavy in his gaze. "Oh?" You can't help but react to it, helpless and unable to resist. "You noticed me leaving?"

Yoongi's eyes sharpen. Hooked. "Of course," he says. "You're the only thing I pay attention to when I'm here. You have been from the first night you walked in."

Your breath catches in your throat. You hadn't expected Yoongi to say something so forthright, to be so direct, more used to coy flirtation from the other people you've met in the past; it's like you've been dipped in cold water, a shock to the system, bracing and invigorating and refreshing.

"Oh," you say, at a loss with how to respond. Yoongi seems pleased to have gotten this reaction out of you, the corners of his lips curving upwards in a self satisfied smile.

"Besides," he adds, "I find it flattering that not only do you come here every week to watch me, you always make sure to make your appreciation known, too." He lifts the glass up and takes another drink, but this time he keeps his eyes locked on yours as he does, gaze unwavering as he finishes his drink. The rocks tumble over themselves as he sets the glass down on the bar, lower lip wet with a drop of whisky that lingers; his tongue sweeps across it and leaves a sheen, catching the light, shining. You can't tear your eyes away from the sight. "It would have been hard to ignore that even if I'd wanted to."

A shiver trickles down your spine. You'd really only ever meant it as a compliment, a quiet way to express your admiration about his craft, and you have to ask— "How long have you been playing the piano?"

This question seems to throw Yoongi off kilter. You see the way his lashes flutter as he blinks with surprise. "For as long as I can remember," he says, and then a small smile appears on his lips. "When I was young I had a toy piano that I constantly used to hammer at, so when I grew up a little, my parents bought the real thing so that I could learn how to play."

He sounds nostalgic and your heart squeezes in your chest. "You're self-taught, right?" You ask, remembering something Jin had told you before. 

Yoongi looks briefly startled. "Yes, I am," he says, and then his eyes narrow. "Did Jin tell you that?"

"Um, yeah." You squirm a little on the barstool. "Sorry, should I not have said anything about it?"

"No, no, you're okay. It's just that Jin says a lot of things, and I'm just wondering what else he said to you." Yoongi's tone is weirdly pained.

The concern is obvious on his face, and you wonder if Jin is to Yoongi what Jimin is to you— well-meaning but maybe a little overwhelming in their approach. 

"All good things, I promise. I love dogs, too." You smile up at Yoongi, who seems a little taken aback, and the smile starts to drop off your face. "Um. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." For all that Yoongi was smirking earlier, he seems a little unsure now. You feel confused, waiting as Yoongi clearly turns some thoughts over in his head, and then he says: "What exactly has Jin told you?"

You smile. You recognise that tone, the nonchalance that hides a little worry— it's exactly how you sound whenever you find out that Jimin has been speaking to someone about you, even if it's always positively. "Oh, just bits and pieces," you say. Feeling bold, you pat the barstool next to you, tilting your head invitingly. "Why don't you tell me about yourself instead so we can see if Jin was lying to me?"

Yoongi looks genuinely startled, his eyes widening imperceptibly before the expression wipes off his face as if nothing had happened. "Why not," he says, as if in equal parts to himself and to you, before he takes a seat.

Here's what you learn about Yoongi: he's intense, yes, and soft spoken, but as you continue to talk, he begins to loosen up, bit by bit. When he laughs he smiles so wide that his eyes squeeze shut and you can see his gums and you're so fucking endeared at the sight. He's sharp and smart and witty and just so, so intriguing. 

You prop your elbow on the bar and rest your cheek in your hand as he talks, wanting to take everything in, and you rapidly realise that Min Yoongi is less of an enigma than you'd thought, but just as complex as you'd expected— and you want to unravel that complexity. If he'll let you.

You've been talking for so long that the bar has started to empty out, patrons trickling away, the two of you so engrossed with each other that you barely notice. You find out that Jin and Yoongi are actually roommates, best friends, and that Jin is as chaotic as you'd expect and is also very good at drawing Yoongi into his shenanigans; you throw your head back to laugh at one of his stories, and when you catch your breath you find Yoongi looking at you, watching you with an expression on his face that makes you pause. He's been watching you intently all night, listening quietly whenever you talk, but this expression, this is new. He swallows.

"Can I ask something?"

You blink. "Sure, go ahead."

"Why did you keep coming back?" Yoongi asks, and that's not a question you'd been expecting at all.

"Uh," you say eloquently. "Well. Honestly? I couldn't stay away, I guess. I'm not really a musician, and I don't know a lot about the piano, but there's something in your music and the way you play— every song makes me feel something different and new, or reminds me of something I haven't felt, places I haven't been to, but I feel like I know somehow. Like I'm nostalgic for something that I haven't experienced, that doesn't exist. It's almost like you're taking my hand and showing me around some hidden part of the world that only you can see— like you've made it into music because that's the only way you can communicate it. How could I not come back after that?" You pause. "Um. Does that make sense? I feel like it didn't. Sorry?"

Yoongi's been watching you as you've been talking, silent, and by the time you've finished his mouth has fallen open a little. He stares at you for a few moments longer, and then he says: "Holy shit." And then he says: "Oh my God." And then he says: "What the fuck."

"… I guess it didn't make sense, then?" Despite the ease of your earlier conversation you suddenly feel awkward, laughing a little as your legs uncross so that you can shuffle to the edge of your barstool. Ready to hop up and make a quick get away if you need to. Run away from the embarrassment. "Um."

"Y/n," Yoongi says, and you realise with a start that you haven't introduced yourself to him throughout your whole conversation— Jin must have told him your name— but then he keeps talking. "I thought you just— I don't know, that you just kept coming back because of me. Not the music. Then Jin kept talking about you and—" 

He makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat and runs a hand through his hair; you stare at his bared forehead, and it says about how attracted you are to him that the sight of his forehead is enough to set your heart racing. "I thought that maybe if I let this happen just one time that it would be enough, but now I don't think it will."

"Yoongi." You're confused, unsure if you've correctly understood what he's just said. "Let what happen one time? What are you talking about?"

"Touching you," Yoongi says. "Fucking you." His voice is a rasp and the sound of it, the sound of his words, shoots straight through you and into your core. "I thought the drinks were— I don't know, an invitation. But they weren't, were they? You really meant it. You really like my music. And me."

Yoongi's voice is hoarse and you come to the realisation that he feels tense. Like he can accept that you want to have sex with him, but he's bowled over by the idea that you're attracted to the other parts, too, as few of those as you know. That you genuinely enjoy what he plays. That you think it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

"Yoongi," you say, tone deceptively gentle. "I really, really like your music, and I think you're an incredibly talented musician, and I've been memorising everything Jin's been telling me about you because I think you're one of the most interesting people I've ever come across and I'd really like to get to know more about you. So I'm really glad to have had the opportunity to talk to you like this." You gesture between the two of you, sitting as you are, facing towards each other on your barstools. And then you brace yourself to take the leap, to throw yourself into uncharted waters. "However, I am also insanely attracted to you and I've spent the past I-don't-know-how-many weeks picturing you bending me over that piano and fucking me so hard that I can't walk straight."

Yoongi freezes in the middle of rubbing the back of his neck, a clearly nervous habit. Though your voice has kept steady while you've been talking, your heart has been thrumming in your chest the whole time, feeling as nervous as Yoongi looks. Something flickers across his face, and his hand drops away from his neck as he straightens, pushing himself off from where he's been leaning against the bar.

"Oh?" He leans towards you. Your legs unthinkingly part as he moves, the material of your dress hitching up as you spread your knees so that he can get closer. "So you do want me to fuck you?"

His nervousness seems to be entirely gone, emboldened by your words. One of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head, fingers sliding into your hair as he holds you in place, at his mercy. He's barely touched you but the feeling of contact makes you bite back a whimper. Even though it's darker here and you're away from the tables, away from the few remaining patrons of the bar, the two of you are in plain sight even under the dimmed lights; you're not doing anything illicit or inappropriate but a little thrill trickles down your spine at the idea.

"Yoongi," you breathe.

"What is it, babygirl?" He tips his head down as he moves closer, his nose brushing yours, each of his words a warm curl across your lips. "Tell me."

The pet name sends a shiver through you. Your hands rise from your lap, sliding over his chest to touch lightly at his neck, a little shy, a little bold. "I want you to kiss me."

"Oh?" Yoongi's mouth is so close to yours, and when you tilt forward to kiss him, he stays just out of your reach, leaving you wanting. "You think you deserve a kiss, do you?"

You can't help but make a little noise, a petulant whine at the back of your throat. He has you entirely at his mercy and he knows it. "Please," you say. "Please, Yoongi, wanna kiss you so bad."

The smile he gives you in reply is wicked. "How can I say no when you've asked so politely?"

Yoongi finally, finally dips his head down and then he's kissing you with such intensity it steals the breath out of you. It's open-mouthed and wet and dirty, his tongue sliding into your mouth in between taking your top and bottom lips between his own, alternating, sucking on them and lapping at them with his tongue. You chase after his mouth with your own, roll your tongues together, hands sliding over the smooth skin of his throat as they circle behind his neck, but then Yoongi pulls away; you bite that needy whine back again, kiss cut short far sooner than you would have liked.

Yoongi is taking the sight of you in, eyes lingering on your shining lips, and then he's rising to stand. You're shaken out of your kiss-induced haze when he does, a little confused, but he takes your hand in his and you let him lift up, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to the back of your knuckles.

"Do you want to get out of here?" His voice is pitched low, deep with a promise of pleasure to come, and you shiver.

"God, I thought you'd never ask," you say in a rush, and he just laughs quietly at your obvious desperation.

"Come on, then." He helps you off the barstool, your hand still in his— god, his hands are so big and his touch is so warm. His eyes are dark as he watches the way you reach to rearrange the hem of your dress with your free hand, but he beats you to it, palm flattening the material against your legs; his fingers dance just under the edge as he straightens it, hand sliding over the skin of your inner thigh and lingering before he pulls away.

"You're shameless," you say, a little breathless, and Yoongi just smirks at you. Tease.

Your fingers remain tangled with his as he leads you behind the bar and through the staff door. Jin's out back, scrolling through something on his phone, but as soon as you walk in he abandons whatever he's doing and raises his eyebrows. He looks surprisingly severe. "Customers aren't allowed back here."

Your eyes widen, but then Jin's serious expression cracks and he starts to laugh. Although he's joking and clearly doesn't care, you feel a little guilty at breaking the rules and duck behind Yoongi, shy. Yoongi snorts and holds a middle finger up at the bartender.

Jin gasps theatrically, clutching his chest while looking askance. "I raise you from birth and this is the thanks I get?"

"You're one year older than me, hyung."

"I carry you in my womb for nine months and birth you into this world and you— oh, okay, you technically shouldn't be doing that either," Jin says, stopping mid-sentence as Yoongi decides his hyung has been talking for too long and turns away from him to start kissing you again, shameless as he tugs you close to him and licks into your mouth; you immediately fall back into him, unable to resist. "Jesus Christ, Yoongi."

Once you part, you bury your head into Yoongi's chest as his arms come around you, hiding your embarrassment in Yoongi's dress shirt. "Sorry, Jinnie," you say, muffled.

"You are absolutely not to blame here, Y/n, you are an angel and a sweetheart." Jin's tone is soothing. "Yoongi, however, is a tiny evil gremlin who needs to learn how to control himself. Though I can't blame him, you are very cute."

"Hyung, I need the apartment tonight," Yoongi says without preamble. You wriggle in the circle of his arms. You're not normally this timid but Yoongi is just so direct and blasé with Jin that you can't help but feel a little shy, as hot and bothered as you are.

"I'll crash at Joon's," the bartender says. He’s obviously not surprised. You lift your head from Yoongi's chest to look at Jin and find that he's smiling at you. "If Yoongi starts to bother you, just whap him on the nose. I find a rolled up newspaper works best if you have one to hand."

"I'll kill you, Kim Seokjin," Yoongi says.

Jin just laughs as he waves the two of you off and you take the initiative to start pulling Yoongi towards the back door. He comes easily, but once the door has swung shut behind you he takes the lead again and guides you towards his car. He lets go of your hand so that he can unlock it, swinging the passenger door open for you, and he's unabashed in how he watches you step in and eyes the way your dress hitches up again as you slide into your seat; he leans against the car and just stares at you.

There's honestly nothing sexier when someone clearly wants you as much as you want them. It makes you feel bold, drunk on the way he looks at you. 

You glance up at him through your lashes. "The sooner we get to yours, the sooner you can have me," you say.

Yoongi curses under his breath. "You're going to be the death of me."

Surprisingly enough, though, he keeps his hands to himself when he gets behind the wheel. You can't help but feel a little surprised; you don't know how close Yoongi's home is to the bar, but you very rapidly tire of waiting to feel his hands on you again and so you lean over the centre console and press a fleeting kiss just behind his ear.

Yoongi doesn't outwardly react, continuing to stare at the road, so you take this as a challenge. You slide one of your hands onto his thigh— for balance, of course— and kiss behind his ear again, tug his lobe with your teeth, mindful of his piercings, and then proceed to trail little kisses down his neck and the little slither of his collarbone that you can reach without his shirt getting in the way. You finally get to lick your tongue in the hollow of his neck that you've been thinking about for weeks.

Yoongi's hands tighten on the steering wheel. Jackpot. 

"Y/n," he says, voice low, and you're so close to his throat that you can hear the rumble behind his words. You love it. "You should stop now, or we're not going to make it to my apartment."

You go still. Yoongi continues to look at the road but his knuckles are white with how hard he's gripping the wheel, and when you glance down you can see how much you've affected him, cock hardening in his slacks. It would be so easy to slide your hand up his thigh and finally touch him, have him pull over and wreck you, but you want something more than a quick fumble in the seat of a car. 

So you just press your lips lightly against the line of his jaw one last time. You let yourself breathe in the dark scent of his cologne— pinewood and pepper and something deeper— before you pull back, folding your hands in your lap demurely, trying to force yourself to be content with waiting.

"Good girl," Yoongi says. You can't help but preen; you don't normally respond to praise like this, but something about Yoongi just makes you want to please him, hear him compliment you again. Yoongi glances at you, a little flicker of realisation as he sees how you've just reacted to his words, and his eyes darken. "You like that, baby? Like being a good girl for me?"

Fuck. "Yes." Your pulse is rising. You've been craving Yoongi for weeks, but god, if he asked you to go home right now, sent you home without touching you, you'd go, just to hear him call you a good girl again. But you don't want him to leave you untouched, you don't want that at all. "I want you to touch me, Yoongi," you say. "I'll be a good girl, please just touch me."

"Fuck." Yoongi's foot presses down on the accelerator. He's never wanted to live closer to the bar before, but the sight of you staring at him from his passenger seat and rubbing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to give yourself some relief is making him rethink his housing location. "I will, baby. We'll be there soon."

Soon turns out to be less than five minutes, scarcely any time at all, though each second is torturous in how long it feels. Yoongi's careless in how he parks the car, wonky within the lines of his spot, but neither of you notice or care. You fumble with the buckle of your belt, climbing out of the car as quickly as you can and slamming the door shut with more power than you probably need to, noise loud in the quiet of the night.

Before you can react, however, Yoongi is rounding the car and grabbing you, pressing you against the metal and glass of the door. One of his hands slips under your thigh, lifting your leg and shoving the hem of your dress out of the way so that he can grind against you; you gasp at the feeling of his growing hardness against the dampness of your underwear, and Yoongi leans forward to swallow the sound into his mouth. 

The kiss is rushed and desperate, but you love the messiness of it. Yoongi pulls away to press his lips against the side of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, mouthing at the jumping pulse he finds there. You start to make small ah-ah noises when he laves his tongue over it, one of your hands tangling in his hair as you tilt your head back, each of his touches fizzing like electricity on your skin.

"P-people could see," you stutter, struggling to catch your breath with how good his mouth feels on you.

Yoongi smirks against your skin. "I thought you wanted me to touch you," he says, but immediately relents, pulling away from you so he can lead you into the building. You miss the heat of his body against yours but he keeps hold of your hand as you follow him; it's late and the building seems quiet, so you're mindful of just how loud your high heels sound as they clack on the floor, though Yoongi doesn't seem to care.

When you step into the apartment you reach down for the straps on your shoes so you can kick them off but Yoongi stops you with a hand to your shoulder. It's a light touch but you stop immediately, glancing up from your feet to his face.

"Let me," he says, and a hot trickle of arousal runs down your spine at the tone of his voice. 

You straighten up and watch as Yoongi gets down on one knee, hands circling around your ankle and lifting your foot. You rest the toe of your shoe lightly on Yoongi's knee, watching as he undoes the strap around your ankle and slides the shoe off, setting it to one side, before he presses his lips to the inside of your knee. You shiver at the light touch and Yoongi smirks, letting your ankle go so you can move and he can take your other shoe off, too.

He barely takes his eyes off your face the whole time, only glancing down when he has to. His motions are slow and unhurried despite his earlier rush, carefully setting the second shoe next to the first, and you can't help but feel like he's teasing you— drawing out your reactions just because he can. Before you can say anything about it, though, his hands trail up from your calves to your thigh before he hitches your leg over his shoulder, one hand staying on your thigh as the other grips at your hip.

You bite back a gasp. From his angle Yoongi can see everything and he's looking up with hooded eyes, staring at the dark patch on your underwear, wet for him; his gaze trails across the lace of the lingerie you're wearing, the small colourful flowers blooming across the dark material. It was something you'd put on to complete your outfit, the matching panties and bra making you feel expensive and pretty— even if you hadn't expected anyone to see it.

"Look at you," he says, hand lowering from your hip to trace lightly across your slit; it's a barely-there touch, sensation dulled by the material in the way, but you still jolt at the feeling of it. "Did you wear this for me?"

"Of course," you confess. You've wanted his eyes on you for so long. "Always dress up pretty for you."

"Fuck." He sounds reverent. "You've always been such a good girl for me, haven't you?"

A needy noise rises unbidden at the back of your throat when Yoongi spreads your leg wider and leans forward to mouth at you through the lace of your panties. Your knees go weak and you have to lean back against the wall for balance, grateful at how close you are to it when Yoongi draws his tongue upwards, wetting the fabric, your toes curling.

"Yoongi." One of your hands is resting in his hair and you can't stop your grip from tightening. "Yoongi, please."

He gives you what you want, fingers hooking into your underwear and pulling it down; he lets your leg drop so that you can step out of them, but as soon as you've finished he throws the panties to one side, one hand splaying across your stomach as the other lifts your leg again so that you’re spread open for him, immediately pressing his mouth to your clit.

"Oh!" You gasp. Yoongi seems to have tired of his teasing and is eating you out like a man starved, the slick sound of his tongue and lips filling the apartment as he laves attention on your dripping pussy, staring up at you as he drinks your reactions in. He dips his tongue into you and your hips try to buck forwards but the hand on your stomach holds you in place, firm, and you let out an embarrassingly loud keen at how good it feels to be this powerless.

You slap your free hand across your mouth and try to swallow the noise down. Yoongi frowns and stops, leaning his head back as he looks at you; his mouth is shining with evidence of your arousal, opalescent. "I want to hear you."

You bite your lip, forcing your hand away from your mouth; you don't want to be too loud, too noisy, but you want to be a good girl for Yoongi. He wants to hear you so you'll give him what he wants.

"O-okay," you breathe, and Yoongi smirks up at you; it's filthy, how he's looking at you like that while his lips are wet with you. You tilt your hips towards him, desperate to have his mouth on you again, and he immediately complies.

He's lapping at your clit when the hand on your stomach moves and slides down. You watch as he takes his tongue off you so that he can curl it around his fingers instead, before running those fingers across your lower lips to gather the slick there, wetting them even further. You roll your hips into the sensation, loving the press of his slightly rough fingers against your silken folds, wanting more, eyes wide as you watch how Yoongi's hand trails between your legs.

He puts his mouth back on your clit at the same time as he presses one of those spit slick fingers into you. You're so turned on that the initial slide in is easy, but he still takes his time; he's distracting you with the way he's sucking at your small bundle of nerves but you still feel when he presses his second finger in, longer than yours, the sensation of it even better than you'd dreamed.

He crooks his fingers and you throw your head back against the wall, dull thud barely registering over the sensation of Yoongi inside you. He sees how you react and continues to move his fingers in the same way, thrusting his fingers in and curling them as he pulls out, watching as you writhe; the pleasure inside you has been growing, the feeling building, and if Yoongi keeps doing that then you're going to cum. "I'm close," you gasp.

Yoongi responds to this by pushing a third finger inside you, rubbing his fingertips directly over your sweet spot. The stretch burns, just a little, but God, you love it. He purses his lips over your clit and flicks his tongue over it at the same time as he curls his fingers again and it undoes you; your spine arches away from the wall as you cum, ripples of pleasure sparking through your body as you tighten around Yoongi's fingers, sobbing almost deliriously at how good it feels.

Yoongi watches you the whole time, keeps his mouth on you as you ride out your high. He only moves away when you start to jolt from oversensitivity, pulling his fingers out carefully as he does. You feel empty without them inside you and you can't wait for him to fill you up with something better instead.

Yoongi holds you steady, his grip firm as you slip your leg from his shoulder and shakily push yourself off the wall. Once you've gotten your balance he stands up— his knees must hurt but he doesn't complain, too busy watching you lift his fingers to your lips, sucking them into your mouth so you can lick the taste of yourself off him.

"Jesus Christ." Yoongi stares at the way you flick your tongue across his skin, glancing at him coquettishly through your lashes. You reach out for him, hands moving towards his belt, but he shakes his head. "Bedroom," he says.

Of course you follow him. At any other time you'd be taking in the details of the apartment, the glimpses you get into the other rooms, but you're too busy looking at Yoongi to have a mind for anything else. He's been hard for so long by now that it must be driving him crazy and you want to give him what he wants. What he needs.

He swings a door open and flicks a light on. Yoongi's room is what you'd expected: neat and organised, with dark furnishings, the only mess being a few scrunched up balls of paper that have overflowed the trash-bin by his desk, which has a pile of notepads next to his laptop and a set up of musical equipment that looks far too complex for you to make heads or tails of. 

You forget about this instantly, however, when Yoongi captures your lips in another kiss, a hand splaying across your jaw so that he can control the pace, crowding you towards the bed until the back of your knees make contact with it and you fall onto the mattress. Yoongi cages you in with his arms and keeps kissing you, though when you palm him through his slacks he hisses through his teeth.

"Want you, Yoongi." You use your hand to stroke over the hardness of him as you nip at his lower lip. "Please."

"Fuck, of course, babygirl." Yoongi leans back and you move with him, sitting up as he stands straight. He unbuttons his shirt and you help him slide it off his shoulders, using it as an excuse to run your hands over the pale skin he reveals to you, sliding your palms down his chest and over his stomach; you dip your head to kiss where your hands have traced, letting your tongue flick across his skin. You lick shamelessly at one of his nipples and feel drunk on the way he lets out a surprised little breath, turning your head to do the same to his other nipple as your hands finally reach their goal: his belt.

You deftly unbuckle it, fast enough that the leather makes a snapping noise when you pull it, and Yoongi bites back a laugh— under normal circumstances you might be embarrassed by how obvious you're being, but you're desperate to finally touch him, especially after he'd made you cum as hard as he had. You look up at him as you reach for his zipper but falter when you notice that he's staring at you with something akin to awe, lifting your lips off his skin.

"What?" You ask, suddenly feeling shy.

Yoongi doesn't respond verbally. Instead, he quirks a little grin at you before he cups your face with both hands and bends down to kiss you again, deeper and slower than he has before. You match his pace, the two of you tilting your heads to get a little closer, but when you continue to pull Yoongi's zip down he laughs against your lips and you smile. He gets the hint, stepping back so he has room to kick his trousers and underwear off; he's not trying to be sensual about it, moving fast so he can get close to you again, but you're enraptured nonetheless.

You swallow at the sight of his cock when it’s finally freed. It's flushed red from neglect, fully hardened, curving up towards his stomach, and you can see how the head glistens with precum, slick and wet. Saliva floods your mouth. Yoongi looks briefly startled when you put your hands against his hips and lightly push him backwards, but then you slide off the bed and onto your knees in front of him and the shock immediately disappears from his face, tangling a hand in your hair as you settle in place.

He's so hard that you don't feel like teasing him. Instead, you take the precum that's gathered at the tip of his cock and rub it down his length, hand wrapping around and twisting as you dip forwards and take the flushed head into your mouth. You can't swallow him all the way down, thanks to your gag reflex, but you give it a damn good go— you relax your throat as much as you can as you lower your head, using your hand to touch the parts of his cock that aren't in your mouth. You tongue at the vein on the underside as you lift back up, using your free hand to cup his balls, and Yoongi curses, his hand tightening in your hair as he pulls you off.

You blink up at him in surprise, mouth still open after he's slid out of your mouth— you feel like you'd barely started— and you can see how his cock twitches as he drinks the sight of you in.

"That mouth of yours is downright sinful," he says, running his thumb over your lower lip. You go lax under his touch, which seems to please him. "As much as I'd like to cum down your throat, I think you want something else instead, don't you, babygirl?"

Your breath shudders out of you and you nod. You want Yoongi's cock inside you, itching for him to finally fuck you stupid, the way you've been yearning for so long. "God, yes, please."

Yoongi's lips twitch at your shameless desperation. "Stand up then, baby," he says, and you comply. "Turn around."

You turn towards the bed to show Yoongi your back, and he slowly unzips your dress; it slides off your shoulders easily, slipping down your body and pooling on the floor as Yoongi drags his hands over the revealed skin. You tremble under his touch, sensitive to each of his motions as he unclasps your bra, and finally you're entirely unclothed, lingerie carelessly tossed to one side before Yoongi pulls you close.

Your back is pressed to his chest, and you can feel the heat and hardness of his cock pressing against you, but you forget about that when his hands move to cup your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. You tilt your head back against his shoulder and he takes the opportunity to kiss down your neck, using his tongue to lick down the bared length of it, and your breath hitches in your throat as he pinches one of your nipples between his fingers, the perfect mix of careful roughness.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Yoongi breathes into the crook of your neck. You whimper and grind back against him, feeling the wetness of his cock as it slips against your skin, and he bites back a groan.

"Yoongi, I need you," you say, so close to finally getting what you've been craving for so long. "Please," you add, voice high with desperation.

You feel how Yoongi bares his teeth against your skin in a silent snarl before he's turning you around in his arms, and you squeal in surprise as he hitches you upwards onto the bed, your head falling onto the pillows. It wasn't a rough motion, Yoongi still careful even when he's clearly as hungry for you as you are for him, but you find yourself whimpering at how he's manhandled you, loving it. Seems like he's helping you discover things about yourself that you hadn't realised before now.

Yoongi settles between your legs, staring down at you, bare and helpless underneath him. You reach out your hand to touch his chest, sweeping your fingers down the line of his stomach and over the trail of dark hair that leads down to his weeping cock, still shining with your spit. He curses, leaning over you to paw at his nightstand drawer; he fumbles with the lube and condom when you wrap your fingers around his length again, stroking him hard and slow.

"Yoongi, please," you say again, practically begging, wanting him inside you as quickly as possible. He curses under his breath again but then wraps his fingers around yours, pulling your hand off his cock. You pout at him. "I've been a good girl, haven't I?"

"Good girls are patient." Yoongi leans back on his heels and you make a small whining noise, but you quieten when you watch him rip open the condom packet; you reach forward again to help him roll it down his cock, wanting to keep the feeling of his hardness and heat under your touch, but he fixes you with a stern gaze. "Hands."

You pause, wondering exactly what he means. You settle on pulling your hands away and stretch up to let them rest on the pillow above you. You must have done the right thing because Yoongi smiles, and you give a squirm of delight. He shifts closer and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, turning his head to kiss your inner ankle.

"So perfect," he says, and you squirm again, pleased. He reaches for the bottle of lube and uncaps it with a quiet click, drizzling it directly onto his cock and biting back a noise at the coldness of it— but then he squirts more into his hands, warming it between his fingers. You make a small questioning sound, and Yoongi smiles before kissing your ankle again. "This is for you, baby."

Your eyebrows raise in quiet surprise. You're already so wet, dripping with a mix of your own cum and Yoongi's lingering spit, but he's still being this careful and considerate. He dips his slick fingers between your flushed lips and draws them upwards, making you arch your back as he grazes over your pearl of nerves, pleasure shooting directly into your core. 

"Oh, fuck," you gasp. "God, please, Yoongi, please."

"I've got you, babygirl," he murmurs, and you marvel at his self control, his restraint even now. He grips your leg with one hand and uses the other to guide himself into you. Finally. You moan as he sinks in, stretching you, slowly pushing in inch by inch; you can feel the way your walls stretch, parting for him, until he's bottomed out, and you feel so full.

"Holy shit, Yoongi." You've moved your hands and you're digging your nails into his back, trying to pull him closer even though it's not possible, Yoongi's cock so long that you can feel it filling you completely. "Oh, God."

Yoongi's fringe is hanging in his eyes but you can see how his pupils have almost swallowed the dark of his irises, the way he's drinking in the sight of you beneath him— your pupils are blown too, hair a messy halo against the pillows, nipples hard from arousal, chest heaving as you hiccup in air. He pulls out, just as slowly as he'd pushed in, the drag of his cock against your inner walls sending electricity shooting through your nerves; he stops before he's completely out, only the head of him still inside you, and you bite your lip in anticipation, waiting for the next slow thrust in.

You're completely blindsided when Yoongi snaps his hips forward suddenly, fucking sharply into you, and you choke on a surprised breath. He sets a brutal pace, the sound of his skin slapping against yours almost drowned out by the way you wail. Your hands fall away from his back and to the sheets, fingers gripping at them, twisting under your hands. His brows are drawn together with focus, but when you raise a hand up to touch his face he goes easily, letting your leg slip off his shoulder so he can kiss you.

His motions slow somewhat as you kiss each other, but he keeps the roll of his hips just as deep, and you end up all but panting against his mouth instead of kissing him; he swipes his tongue across your lips and you let them fall open so he can lick into your mouth, sloppy and wet. You can feel an orgasm building again, surprisingly fast— especially as he's not even touching your clit— and you clench around him, wanting to hit that peak again.

Yoongi stops kissing you to rest his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as he slows his thrusts, grinding into you each time he pushes all the way in, hips flush with yours. "Such a good girl." His voice is a low rasp, dark and heavy. "So pretty for me."

Yes, yes, yes. "Wanna be your good girl," you breathe. "Make you feel as good as you make me feel."

Yoongi actually growls, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you up. You grab his shoulders for support, legs spreading so that your knees hit the mattress, his cock still inside you as you look down at him, both of you kneeling now. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, stomachs flush, and Yoongi grinds up into you. His hands slide from your waist, to your ass, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you up; the change of angle has the curve of his cock dragging right across your sweet spot and you gasp. "Oh, yes, there, just like that."

You press down as Yoongi's hips snap up, and you can feel how his motions are starting to get a little jerkier, staccato, the way he speeds up. With the drag of your nipples against his chest, and the way he's hitting your g-spot dead on each time, you're close to hitting your peak, pleasure riding up into a crescendo— and then Yoongi slides one of his hands between the two of you to rub at your clit and you're gone again, gasping and shaking as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, all the air escaping your lungs in a drawn out, shuddering wail.

"Fuck, baby." Yoongi's motions grow a little more hurried and sloppy, thrusting up into you as your walls pulsate around him. You try to match his pace, drinking down the way his face twists as he chases his own release— and then his grip on you grows tight enough to bruise and he cums with a surprisingly quiet moan. He grinds upwards, his cock twitching inside you as he empties himself into the condom; you shiver at the sensation, squeezing your legs around his hips in an instinctive attempt to draw him as deeply into you as possible, as futile as that is.

Your legs are shaking. You remain tangled around each other, sweaty and panting, but then Yoongi is grasping your chin and tilting your head down so that he can kiss you. It's soft, and gentle, and you melt into it, going lax and boneless in his hold as you tighten your hands in his hair. 

You feel how he smiles tiredly against your lips, and when you pull back, he looks thoroughly fucked out; his hair is a mess from how you've been running your hands through it and lips are kiss swollen, parted so that he can suck air in and try to catch his breath. You must look similarly wrecked. You feel hazy, though Yoongi feels solid beneath you, grounding you as you slowly come back to yourself.

"I'm going to lean you back, beautiful," he says, and you entwine your fingers together behind his neck so that he can tilt you onto the mattress, careful and reverent. He slips his softening cock out of you and you let out a small sigh at the sudden feeling of emptiness, though as soon as he's done tying the condom off and throwing it in the bin he comes back to you, lightly kissing you as he draws a hand gently between the valley of your breasts. Despite the tenderness behind the motion you're suddenly struck with wondering if he's about to ask you to leave, but then he asks: "Do you want to come wash up?"

You pause. "Oh, God, my makeup," you say with sudden realisation as your fingers come up to touch under your eyes. Your eyeshadow and mascara must be a mess by now. You splay your hand across your face, as if trying to hide it— which you know is stupid, especially considering the fact the rest of your body is naked under Yoongi's gaze. He huffs out a laugh and takes your hands with his own, pulling them away. "Nooo," you whine. "Don't look at me."

One of Yoongi's eyebrows rises. "Why would I ever want to look away from you?"

You wriggle. "Yoongi," you whine again, equal parts pleased and embarrassed, but you let your hands go limp and Yoongi pulls you to your feet. "You're shameless."

"And you're gorgeous," he says, simply. "Come on, you'll get cold."

Yoongi lets you clean up first. It's weird how comfortable you are as you navigate your way around Yoongi and Jin's bathroom— you pilfer one of Jin's makeup wipes to clean your face— and how natural it feels to accept the shirt Yoongi gives you, an oversized, stretched-out old thing that's gone soft from years of wear. You're perched on the bathroom counter as you slide it on, glancing down at the design on the front, and you instantly perk up when you see what it is.

"You do love Kumamon," you say with delight. 

Yoongi stops in the middle of brushing his teeth, looking a little ridiculous with the minty froth around his lips but still just as kissable. He rinses his mouth and spits, wiping his lips with a towel before he makes a face at you.

"Jin told you about that, too?"

"I want to see your slippers," you say in reply and Yoongi groans. You can't help but giggle, feeling sleepy and soft and affectionate, and you touch your fingers under Yoongi's chin so that you can press a quick kiss to his lips. "I think it's cute."

By the time you've both finished your ablutions and you slide off the counter, you feel tired, what little energy you had after being fucked by Yoongi completely gone from you; you slide onto Yoongi's bed gratefully, glad to be off your feet. You hold your hands up and beckon for him to join you, but then let out a sharp laugh of surprise when he tugs his rumpled blanket off the bed from underneath you and lets it drop to the floor. "Yoongi!"

"I'll be right back," he says. While you wait, you decide to stretch, eyes slipping shut as you extend your limbs. You know you'll feel the ache between your legs tomorrow, a little thrill skating through you at the knowledge that Yoongi's touch has left a physical reminder, something only you can feel and no one else can see.

When your eyes flutter open again, you see Yoongi standing at the bottom of the bed, a different blanket gathered in his arms. He's staring at you, and you realise that the material of his shirt has moved as you've stretched, hitching up over your hips. Even though you're both tired, Yoongi's eyes still darken when you shift your legs, and you bask under his attention.

"A different blanket?" You ask, curious, and Yoongi's eyes slide away from your still-bare core back up to your face.

"It's Jin's," he says. "I wasn't about to let you sleep on sweaty sex sheets."

"I don't mind," you say, honestly, but Yoongi proceeds to lay Jin's blanket across the bed anyway. "Jin's not going to be happy about this," you add, but you say it with a laugh, instantly curling up into Yoongi when he lays down beside you.

"He'll live." Yoongi's arm comes around you, fingers trailing over your shoulder; you lapse into silence and let your eyes shut, focusing on Yoongi's movements. It feels like he’s pressing piano keys down and playing a silent song against your skin. You can't help but smile, starting to drift off, when Yoongi speaks again. "Let me take you out for breakfast."

"Hm?" Your eyes open and you blink away your sleepiness to look up at Yoongi, who's still watching you. "Breakfast?"

"Yes." Yoongi's fingers still on your shoulder, and then he slides his hand down to tangle your fingers with his. "Or lunch. Or dinner. Whichever you prefer." He pauses. "Unless you don't want to," he says, and though his voice stays steady, you see a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. He's worried that you've gotten what you want and now you'll be done with him.

"You're so silly," you say softly, and you can see how Yoongi's face twists with confusion, unsure about how to react to being called silly— you can't imagine many people have said that to him, as outwardly intimidating as he can be. You squeeze his hand. "Of course I want to. But how about we plan it tomorrow? I don't know how long it's going to take me to be comfortable with walking in a straight line, so breakfast might be off the cards for now."

After a moment, Yoongi's face takes on a satisfied expression. "That's what you said you wanted," he says, and you huff out an amused breath.

"I technically said I wanted you to bend me over a piano, actually," you point out, letting your head settle in the crook of his neck again, and Yoongi brushes his lips against your forehead.

"There's a piano in the living room," he states casually, and you can't help the shiver that runs through you, even as your eyes start to fall shut again.

"I'll keep that in mind."

–

jiminnie y/n!! tae said you called in sick for work? are you okay??

you i'm good! just a lil busy

jiminnie with what?

you [image attached]

jiminnie … why have you sent me a photo of a piano?

you yoongi's gonna fuck me on it omg on that note i've gtg BYE LOVE YOU MINNIE xoxoxo

jiminnie WHAT??? OMG??? GET THAT DICK QUEEN!!!

[notmrskennedy]

Bites and Bullet Holes

(Spencer Reid x Female leaning but sorta GN! Reader)

Summary: Spencer, during college, was bitten by a dog. Working a case involving dogs brings back old memories and friends...

W/C: 3,384

Warnings: Dog bites, bullet holes, bad writing? 

A/N: Guess what I found y’all? I haven’t edited it one single bit but I hope it goes over well anyway. When I was working at the kennel I kept having anxiety over one of my kids getting into a fight so I made this. Be a little extra gentle with this one. 

---

As he leaned over the victim, he made the mistake of thinking about you. Spencer thought he’d gotten over it. The whole randomly thinking about you thing—the thing that’s happened too many times before. He’d chalked it up to you being best friends 15 years ago. Told himself that it’s normal to miss your friends from college. 

But over a dead body? This was new. 

Though he supposes the dead girl could’ve looked like you in another timeline. There’s facial structure similarities—at least to you 15 years ago at 19. She’s been strangled with her dog’s leash and there’s some unspoken quality about her that just…jerks him into nostalgia over you. 

(You are probably the one that got away, but if he’s being honest, you live in DC. He could go see you right now if he wanted to.)

Morgan leans over Spencer and points at the dog leash. “It had to be someone she knew if the dog went off with our un-sub.”

Spencer nods, fidgeting with the 15 year old scars on the inside of his wrist. Whether or not Morgan noticed, he thankfully doesn’t press. Spencer is having enough trouble stamping down that knee-jerk reaction to think about you, let alone if Derek thinks to point out the magical, ‘hey weren’t you bitten by a dog?’

Spencer doesn’t remember the incidence well enough to comment. He wonders if you do. 

“We’ll have to check shelters for the dog,” Spencer remarks. “3.3 million dogs enter shelters every year in the US.” 

Morgan nods, pulls off a glove, pulls out his phone. Spencer looks around the park. Behind the police tape are plenty of people walking their dogs. The sorts of breeds that you’ve gushed about 15 years ago. His brain knew too much about dobermans, shepherds, mallinois—he could even hear that pretty little gasp you had when you’d point out a particularly well trained monster of a pet. 

Spencer wonders if you ever did anything with your finance degree, if you even ended up finishing college at all. You’d come close to dropping out over calculus—he hadn’t been around long enough to help you through the even harder stuff. This wasn’t the first time he’d wanted Garcia to look you up, but it was the first time he’d considered it. 

“Music to my ears, mama,” Morgan laughs into the phone and Spencer tunes back in. 

“I’ll get that puppy BOLO out,” Garcia chirps back. Spencer can imagine her wringing a fluffy pencils through her fingers. “We’re going to find this doggie and make sure that psycho didn’t get him too.”

Spencer smiles despite himself. Penelope would’ve liked you. 

#

JJ sets coffee down in front of his stack of files. She smiles, gracefully sits down next to him. Spencer tries his best to ignore her insistence. Tries to ignore the ever prominent eye contact screaming ‘We’re going to talk about something uncomfortable!’ 

“So, Spence,” she says, pausing for his attention with a sip of her own coffee. He looks up for half a glance before going back to the files. He doesn’t know why, but he’s sure there’s something in this stack of work the first victim had brought home with her. They all knew the un-sub, he had to be somewhere. 

“Spencer,” she says more insistently. He makes the mistake of looking up, of letting her place a hand on his. She gently turns the wrist over and pointedly glances towards the teeth marks. “Are you doing okay?”

He opens his mouth, but decides some things are better kept to himself. He thinks about saying that no, he wasn’t alright, that being plagued by thoughts of the first-love-of-his-life is haunting him more than the dog fight. 

That he can see your face in each of these victims. In their dogs. In the places they died. 

Dogs didn’t like him. They never did. The dog bite wasn’t the big deal out of the altercation. 

JJ won’t understand, so he offers her a truthful smile and says, “I’m okay. Seriously. More than 4.5 million people are bitten by dogs each year. I’m not special.”

JJ nods. Spencer goes back to his files. He forgets to hide his lovesick agony. JJ forgets not to notice. 

#

It’s 4AM and he knows he’s remembering it wrong. That the dog hadn’t been that big. That the teeth hadn’t really gotten him that bad. The bright red devil eyes and thousand yards of slobber were more than grossly incorrect. 

He sits up in bed and forces himself to remember the parts that were real. How real you had been. Before and after. 

Your car had broken down as you were leaving for work—already late—and you’d begged him for a ride. Promised calculus homework on your boss’s couch and only having to let the dogs out. No shit. No bleaching crates. No nothing. Just you, him, and some calculus homework. 

He’d caved. Now, running his hands over his eyes, he laughs at how obvious he had to have been. A skinny little 19 year old pimple of a boy majorly crushing on the first person to pick him out of a crowd and decide they’d be friends. The first friend who’d forced him to a tailgate at a football game. The only person he’d do absolutely anything for. 

And it was just like you promised. Your cute little nose wrinkle. Your horribly frustrated glares. Your over dramatic ‘I’m dropping out!’s every fifteen minutes. And it’d been great until you both heard a thunderous snap of a wooden fence and the wildest, most murderous howling he’d ever heard. 

You’d both bolted for the door, scrambling to get through the gates into the back. There’d been a moment of calm. Another beat. Another. And…you both had stumbled around the corner to find the next door neighbour’s dog, broken chain, trying to kill one of the kennel’s dogs. 

There had been no moment’s hesitation on Spencer’s part. He’d stupidly rushed forward, lodged his hand between the neighbour’s mutt and the sweetest dog he’d ever met. He’d yanked her free from the mutt’s jaws, only to find his own wrist dragging along the teeth. 

(He realised later that he’d always had a propensity to run head first into danger. No calculations needed.)

There’d been two beats for the dog to process it’s chew toy was in Spencer’s arms. To process that Spencer made a better victim. That Spencer’s throat and limbs were softer and easier to tear. Thankfully, he’d scrambled back enough that when the dog launched, it didn’t catch flesh. It chomped on air. Less than three inches from him. 

Fangs. Tightened lips. Black gums. Slobber. 

The mutt could be equated to Stephen King’s The Sun Dog. Always hesitant to process his trauma, it’s the one book—gifted by you during a Halloween birthday for him—that sits untouched on his bookshelves. There’s too much of you in the inscription in the cover. Too much of that horrible mutt in the pages. 

The next part of the night blurred in his memories. In his near perfect memory, it blurred. Trauma, right? 

You’d screamed. You were in front of him. You had the dog’s chain in your hands. He was running. The dog was heavy in his arms. His arm stung. You were screaming. He should’ve gone back. 

Five god-awful minutes later, you’d come into the house. Limping. Clutching onto your arm. You’d taken one look at Spencer running his wrist under the tap and forgotten about your own injuries. Despite the blood dripping off your arm. Or the quiet yelp every time you stretched. You’d barely taken ‘I’m fine, you’re the one bleeding’ as a reason to not bandage him up first. 

The only thing that calmed down the dream every time he had it was the memory of holding your hand while you got stitches. How your face pinched with the pain. How you’d said, ‘next time, it’s your turn to take the bullet.’ How he’d smiled and promised. 

Spencer watches the clock tick by and decides it’s too late to go back to sleep. Hotch’ll be up in an hour. No need to delay his start. Women were dying. Women you would’ve been friends with.

#

“Okay, crime-fighters, I found our connection,” Garcia chirps over the speaker phone. “All of our victims attended very specialised dog training courses at a facility just outside of DC. The owner said they’d send in one of their trainers to talk to you. Should be there anytime now.”

“What kind of specialised training?” Emily asks. Spencer feels like he should be contributing, should be processing any of this, but his head is pounding. He doesn’t have a hangover, but god does it feel like it. 

Garcia hums as she types. “It’s a military facility. Awww, they’ve got puppy pictures on their website!”

“Garcia—“

“Right, right. It’s a top notch facility and oh! A bunch of the FBI dogs graduate from there. I wonder if they get little caps and gowns and—“

“Hey, baby girl, the trainer’s here. We gotta run,” Morgan interrupts, though he’s all smiles to stare at whomever is plaguing his interest. 

There’s another squeal of please get puppy pictures before the call cuts and Spencer finally has the self preservation to look. And god does he look. 

15 years has made no difference on your skin and he can’t believe he’s not staring at you from across a lecture hall. The only indication you’ve changed is the nervous smile you’ve plastered on and the dog at your side. Every fun fact about german shepherds instantly crosses his mind and he can’t help but drop his jaw a little further. 

It sinks to the floor when you spot him and wave. You wave. At him. In front of coworkers. 

He’s out of his seat before he can stop himself. That easy smile reserved for movie nights falls back into place on your lips. Twinkles in your eyes. 15 years haven’t passed. Maybe he needs to check for pimples again. 

“Y/n,” he croaks and the same time his name leaves your lips. The dog at your side stands and you correct the gesture with a harsh word in what he’s sure is German. 

“FBI, huh?” Your eyes trail over every inch of him, crossing your arms in a relaxed, familiar kind of way. “I expected more math, Mr. I Like Derivatives.”

“The shepherd there doesn’t look like finance either, y/n,” he teases back like no time has passed. Like he doesn’t immediately feel incredibly guilty for ditching you for the academy. 

“Oh come on,” you huff, “you really think that I was cut out for an office job? I lasted six months.”

And before he can warn you, even think about warning you about the team that’s slowly creeping up behind him, they are all suddenly there. Very keen on knowing the ins and outs of how you know Dr. Spencer Reid. 

“Reid, you gonna introduce us?” Morgan smirks, clapping a painful hand on Spencer’s shoulder. You busy yourself with petting the dog at your hip, looking everywhere but Morgan’s insistent gaze. 

“Guys, this is my friend y/n from college.” 

JJ raises an eyebrow at the lack of explanation, but plows ahead with introductions. Takes charge of guiding you to an interview room. Gets through the entire interview without once asking about your relationship with him. 

Morgan watches Spencer rubbing the scars and makes the leap. “You okay, kid?” 

Spencer breaks from staring at your face as you talk about getting your start in Germany—Germany—and swallows. This was fine. It’s okay to tell his friend—his brother—about the story he’s never really talked about. 

“I stupidly put myself in the middle of a dog fight,” Spencer grits out, flexing and un-flexing his fingers. Every scar burns and he can’t help but stare at your smile again. “Y/n saved my life. She choked out the dog, Morgan, before he got a hold of me. Left the hospital with 12 stitches.”

“Oh,” was his all too helpful response. They both turned back to the interview. How everything jovial about your entire countenance shifted once JJ started mentioning the victims. 

“Look, Agent Jareau,” you say, leaning dangerously far away from the conversation, “They are—they were really smart women with some dangerous dogs. I don’t know—I just—there’s a lot of sickos out there.”

Every profiler within a 20 mile radius can hear the change in tone, can hear the fear. Spencer knows a lot can change in 15 years, but he thought for sure you’d never become a serial killer. He doesn’t know if it’s all his years in the bureau or if he’s still too attached to you, but you don’t seem like the killer. Not like JJ seems to think so. Sure, you’re terrified, but the dog you have is nosing your arm. Giving you big ole puppy eyes. Spencer doesn’t think a serial killer can pour that much into a relationship with an animal. 

“What do you mean?” JJ clocks the movement and switches to a maternal type of body language, tone. “Is there something going on?”

Your hand pauses on the dog’s head, and it noses your hand into action. “I, uh, just got a weird letter two weeks ago. It wasn’t—it was just weird. Off-putting.”

“Right before the first victim,” Spencer mutters. Weird letters indicated stalking. Victims with you as a central point meant stalking. Stalking meant you were probably next. Oh, god, you were next. 

JJ stretched a hand across the table and took yours. “You’ll get through this. You’ll get through this, y/n.”

#

Spencer didn’t know what to do with his hands. It was so much worse than normal. Should he stand? But what should he do with his hands because crossing them seemed too defensive? Or should he just sit down? But where? And was that rude?

Instead, he just took the cup of tea you offered and followed you like a lost puppy. Granted, it was your house and he was definitely lost. He also felt vaguely at home—there were a decent amount of bookshelves by his standards and even more mismatched furniture than he had. The house was well cared for and when you sat him down on your couch, you swept away a stack of training manuals, all sporting worn covers. 

Was it wrong to feel like he was settling onto your old apartment couch for movie nights?

You puff out a breath of air and lean your head dramatically into the back of the couch. “So, since you’re my FBI escort, is it wrong to ask if you still like cheesy 90s movies?”

He shakes his head. Grins. “You still have Legally Blonde?”

You just giggle as you head for a stack of movies. You strike up some conversation as you rummage and he knows he’s hooked all over again. It’s going to take weeks to get over you again. It’d taken months the last time, and he feels slightly less attached this time. But did he really think it would take more than a simple question about the latest thing he’s read? He wishes he knew you better, just as well as you seem to still know him. 

Though by the end of the movie, you’ve both returned to your college days. Practically curled into each other’s side. You still have horrible commentary about the movie, peppered in with Spencer’s annoying movie trivia. If it was anyone else, he figures, he would’ve been kicked out long ago. 

You still distinctly smell of vanilla, flailing the scent around as you move closer and further and closer again. You wear enthusiasm with your whole body and if you aren’t turning rapidly between facing Spencer and the movie, how could you possibly begin to explain correctly? 

Your shoulder keeps a constant pressure against his, your knees half over his thigh. There’s too many instances of hollering and laughing that you grab onto his knee to steady yourself. If this hadn’t been a protective detail, he might’ve lost his mind. 

Thank god for focus. Work. Work. Work. Not your hands on his knee. Definitely not your smile as you declare your affection for scented resume stationary. Totally not how hot it’s getting under your too affectionate gaze. 

“Spence, I really missed this,” you whisper, nudging your shoulder with his. “I know it’s weird to be thrown together after 15 years, but I—I missed you.”

“I—“ missed you too; fell in love with you in college; think I love you now. 

But there’s no time for heartfelt declarations when someone’s incessantly banging on the door. Spencer’s got half a mind to get the door for you, holster his gun, focus on keeping you safe. The banging doesn’t soften as he calls out that he’s on his way. If anything it gets worse. 

And it should’ve been the first red flag of the night. 

Spencer opens the door and thinks very loudly, “why the fuck do I always run headfirst into danger?” 

Their un-sub, a buzzcut that looks more Army that not, shakes a pistol at Spencer and demands to be let inside. There’s only so many ways to defuse the situation, so he back ups, tucks you behind him. Their un-sub winds a little tighter, shaking like one of those monkeys with cymbals. 

“McLaggen?” you whimper behind Spencer and the Army man fires a shot into the floor. You grip tighter onto Spencer’s shirt, digging in your fingers dangerously close to his skin. 

The buzzcut is red, boiling over with rage, words bubbling out of his throat. “Y/n, I just can’t stand to see you with them. You never notice me. You’re always working, so I thought I’d get your attention. Cut the competition. I just—you mean so much to me, y/n. You mean too much.”

Spencer is sure he won’t remember this day accurately as he pushes you just a little further behind him. He’s about to do something so incredibly stupid. Dear lord, why the fuck is he like this? And he lunges. 

The gun’s trapped in both of their hands. There’s one more bullet fired—at the ground he’s sure. There’s a squeak of fear. Just enough of a distraction. One more ounce of weight thrown around. One more lasting punch. McLaggen lands on the floor. The gun skitters away. McLaggen groans as he’s handcuffed.

You gasp and he realises immediately that he’s bleeding. That he’s on the floor. That there is a bullet lodged in his thigh. Again. 

One string of swears later, you’re on the phone with 911. Yes, he’s shot. Yes, there’s another in handcuffs. No, I’m not a whore, send the damn ambulance.  

You take his hand as he lays there, much like he did in the hospital 15 years ago. Unlike then, you’ve got tears pricking at your eyes. You’re sniffling like a school girl, and he’s not sure if you’ve said that aloud. 

“Spencer!” You wipe a stray tear. Squeeze his hand too tightly. “Why the hell, you freakin’ moron, did you take a bullet for me?”

He laughs, bubbling up out of his chest before he can stop it. You are too pretty to be this upset at his laughter. You are too lovely to be worried about him. To still be worried, like nothing has changed one bit. 

Every inch of him is trembling. Blood loss and bullets are bitches.

“Y/n,” he wheezes through dry lungs and more leg pain than he remembers there being, “I promised.”

You blink your eyes. What the hell are you talking about, Spencer Reid, you absolute idiot?

“I promised I’d take the next bullet. In the hospital.” He grins, groans as he moves to drag you into a hug. “I’m a man of my word, y/n, and I promise that if I keep the leg, we’re going out. Properly.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” you grumble into his ear and squeeze his neck tighter. If the paramedics don’t bother to pull you off, who’s to say you won’t stay like that forever? Attached to the loveable, danger prone idiot, who traded dog bites for bullet holes?

[adorethedistance]

City Slicker, Cowboyfriend - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, nerves, mentions of covid.

Words: 2163

Summary: You’re starting to have doubts about moving all the way to Norman until a shopping trip to Ikea turns into the meet-cute you’ve been waiting for.

A/n: This isn’t a request or one of my Valentines day fics, this is just something that I have had stuck in my head ever since Owen posted this on IG and bc I’m facing total writers block with my other pieces I cranked this one out in a few hours to get the ball rolling again. Hopefully. Enjoy this totally unproofed, fluffy madness!! (Because who doesn’t need more Owen content in their life?)

There are perks to moving and one of them is undoubtedly: shopping. For furniture, home decor, kitchen utensils, whatever! Granted, shopping alone can be tedious and, for some, like pulling teeth, thus, I’ve enlisted the help of my best friends Leila and Chelsea. I didn’t even have to bribe them to come because everyone loves getting lost in Ikea. It’s one of the best things about the human experience.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been in an Ikea,” Leila says to no one in particular as we walk through the onslaught of staged bedrooms.

“What?! Are you telling me you don’t get meatballs and lawn chairs on a weekly basis?” My exaggeration makes Leila laugh as she steps into one of the display kitchens. Looking between me and Chelsea she asks,

“What would you do if I turned the handle then a jet of water sprayed out?”

“Die, I guess.”

The three of us continue through the faux house displays and past the mattresses despite Leila’s urge to jump on every single one. As we walk through the section of different lighting features, I sigh with a frown as I think about college. I changed my bachelor’s to an associate’s so I could graduate in two years. Chelsea’s parents moved out here at the end of our senior year in high school, and she moved with them to study in Norman. Leila in turn went to Arizona for an athletic physical therapy gig, leaving me to face college alone in L.A.. In the two years the three of us were apart, we missed each other more and more, and after determining which of the three states we lived in was cheapest, we packed up and headed East. Covid kind of delayed our plans. But after a few months, I picked Leila up from Arizona and together we chased open job opportunities into Norman, Oklahoma. The three of us found an apartment space to live in together and thus, we ended up in Ikea on this fine Sunday afternoon.

Snapping back into reality I see Leila standing directly under a light that’s hanging very low from the ceiling. Once standing directly underneath it, she pulls down her mask and opens her mouth, rising to her toes to eat the fixture.

“Leila, don’t you dare fellate that light bulb! You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

I swear I’m practically their mom when it comes to behaving in public. Figuring they can’t hurt themselves in the college dorm section, I lead them quickly through it and into the giant furniture warehouse section. On the far wall, I see a large poster of a couple smiling brightly behind Chelsea, but I don’t bother to read the text. Leila and I spot the poster at the same time, and the imagery jogs her memory.

“Chelsea, how’s Hunter? Haven’t heard from him slash about him in like a week,” she asks about Chelsea’s boyfriend of a year.

“Oh, yeah, he tore a ligament in his wrist.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, I guess he moved it wrong or something and put too much stress on the area that it just tore. He was moving hay bales into the horse stables.”

“As opposed to the chicken stables,” Leila judges under her breath, which makes me snicker as a result.

“I still can’t believe you’re dating a literal cowboy,” I interject, “Like, I know we’re in Oklahoma, and he’s from Tennessee, but we saw Texas on the way out here and that’s cowboy country. Norman seems more...” I trail off in search of delicate phrasing.

“Just barely marry your cousin territory, but still downing chewing tobacco whilst driving a lifted truck?” Leila hits the nail squarely on the head.

“Yeah, that sounds about right-” Before I can continue giving my thoughts on Norman, I cut myself off at the sound of laughter behind me.

“Sorry. We weren’t trying to eavesdrop, that was just really funny.” When I turn around, I see a guy roughly our age dressed in all black with bleach-blonde hair, speaking through light, broken laughter.

“No worries,” I dismiss the apology as we pass by one another, and out from the dressers section. The three of us continue into the different sections, and come to a stop once I see we’re exactly where we need to be: dining room shit!

“Cowboy boyfriends aside- oh my gosh: cowboy boyfriends. Cowboyfriends,” I say getting lost in my new terminology. Both of my friends share a mix of laughter and gasps and my ingeniousness. “Anyway. Cowboyfriends aside, how is Avery?” I ask Leila who begins blushing madly.

“She’s really good. We were just making plans for our three year anniversary, which reminds me to tell y’all I’m flying back to Phoenix to surprise her.”

“Awwww,” I nearly tear up and the sweet image of Leila and her girlfriend reuniting, “Y’all are so cute. Both of you and your partners. You know, being the only single friend in this group has made life suck a lot. Y’all are so happy and in love and not dead inside. Honestly? Get fucked both of you.” Despite my harsh words, the three of us break into a lighthearted conglomerate of laughter.

“We’ll find you someone… eventually.” Leila pretends she also can’t hear the last part of her sentence despite being the one saying it.

“I know, but I don’t think it’s in the cards for me to find love in Norman. I don’t need a cowboyfriend, and we’re not gonna find a true city slicker here either.”

When I finish my statement, I see our blonde friend seems to have followed us. I observe he comes to a stop in front of another guy in a flannel with a shopping cart. The way they jump into conversation with one another parallels the animated body language Leila, Chelsey, and I share. I continue to watch their exchange as Chelsea speaks up.

“Maybe you need someone right down the middle.”

“Yeah, like a guy who drives a truck but uses it to transport Ikea furniture instead of a whole ass tree that he’ll carve into a chair.” A small laugh escapes my lips, at both Leila’s statement, and the scene ahead of Blondie pretending to strangle his friend over something. I’m snapped out of my nosy yet endeared stare as a third guy appears. He’s a sandy blonde with billowing locks tucked under a trucker hat. And he came from behind me and my two friends to place something in their cart which keeps his back toward me. When he turns back around, my mind goes blank. Any thoughts of shopping for dining room chairs has left my mind. He is wearing a face mask, but he has such nice eyes that he could have a giraffe snout under the mask for all I care. I see him look up from the shelves, directly into my eyes. We stay locked for a moment before he breaks away and turns to his friends. I slowly turn to my friends too who are both giving me the exact same look of excitement and conspiracy.

“He’s really cute,” I sigh out with a laugh, swooning much louder than I’d have preferred.

“He has a face mask on,” Leila points out, her expression dropping from excited to cynical.

“Still! I can just tell.”

“Girl, what are you doing? Talk to him!” Chelsea whisper-shrieks.

“Shhh, I cannot take you anywhere!”

Glancing back at the handsome stranger, we connect eyes once more and I feel my face heat furiously as I realize he was already looking at me. I’m the first to break; I consult my friends for the best course of action and as I’m turned 180 to face them, Chelsea starts pretending to hyperventilate excitedly. Leila looks over my shoulder for me, discreetly surveying the other trio in the dining chairs aisle.

“Don’t look now, but he’s talking to his friends and looking between them and you.” I can hear in her voice she’s trying her best not to smile despite wearing a face mask.

“Should I give him my number?”

“Yes!”

“What are you waiting for?”

“I’m nervous! What if he’s gay?”

“Will you just get over there? I promise you a gay man would not be wearing what he’s wearing right now. Maybe a lesbian,” Leila adds for good measure.

“You guys are freaking me out, I need you to leave so I know you’re not judging my flirting.” I shoo my best friends out of the aisle as inconspicuous as possible. Kinda wish blondie would’ve done the same because when I turn back around, the other trio hasn’t moved and the only one looking at me is the one in all black. He quickly averts his eyes though and I take one last deep breath before walking over to the stranger. I tilt my chin up ever so slightly to fake a sense of confidence that I unmistakably don’t have right now.

“Hey.” Really, Y/n? Hey??

“Hey,” he greets back breathily. Why is he nervous? I’m the one who gets to be nervous! Man, he’s really cute. I can’t fuck this one up. I’m not doing so stellar right now. Perhaps you should say something else, dipshit?

“Uhm,” I should’ve scripted this. “I just wanted to say that-” You’ve got this. Don’t be a bummer. “I-uh, I think you’re really cute and I was wondering if I could give you my number?” My speech is slow, each word deliberate in spite of the fact that I feel like I’m having an out of body experience right now. I’m not the one in control of the words that are coming out of my mouth.

Upon realizing why I walked over, blondie’s friends take the question as a sign to leave and less than inconspicuously back away from the two of us. Trucker hat spares them one last glance over his left shoulder and judging by the look flannel gives him, they were definitely talking about me in their team huddle.

“Uh, yeah. I was gonna ask for your instagram- if you have one, that is.”

“I’m cool with both.” The two of us reach for our phones and unlock them with anxious hands. I move to hand him my phone with instagram open, and he trades me for his which has a new contact open. I type my name and put my favorite heart emoji next to it after triple checking the number is correct. Wow, you’re just so ballsy today, Y/n!!!!! I give him back the phone, scanning the instagram account he’s just opened and followed for me. I hear him exhale a little harder as a small laugh and can only imagine it’s from the stupid heart emoji.

“Owen,” I say in a hushed, endeared voice, fully not intending to say it out loud. “You have a million followers?! Oh, you’re an actor. OH… You’re an actor.” I really don’t need to be speaking my entire thought process right now in the middle of this Ikea. Exhaling a small laugh of my own, I see we already have a small bunch of mutuals, one of which is… Chelsea??? Looking up from my phone I turn around to see Chelsea and Leila watching the interaction from around the corner of one of the industrial shelves.

In the flurry of scattered likes, I see him find my account and follow me back. I accept the request, nervous of what he thinks of me without a face mask on. What do I think of him without a face mask on? Going back to his account, seeing his entire face is even better than just his eyes. I was right, Leila: he is cute.

“You’re really pretty,” I hear him almost sigh as he combs through the grid of my account. The comment makes my heart beat all the much faster and I finally look upward to get a glimpse of Owen in the flesh. Still as beautiful as the last time I checked!

Sparing a quick glance over my shoulder, he looks back down at me and laughs,

“I think your friends got tired of waiting.”

“I think yours did, too.” The other members of our trios come back into the aisle we had kicked them from more or less two minutes ago. We connect eyes once more and stare longingly, wordlessly at one another, so lost in each other’s beauty our friends have to break up the staring contest of infatuation.

“Y/n?” I hear Leila behind me.

“Uh, well, I have to get back to chair shopping, but- text me later?”

“For sure.”

“For sure,” I mimic his voice.

“Guess I’ll see you later. Y/n.”

“Yeah.” And with that, we’re pulled apart by our respective best friends, through the vast expanse of the Norman Ikea.

“What was that?” Chelsea asks, excitedly linking arms with me.

“I don’t know I- Wait, you have some explaining to do!”

*** 

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret​ @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner​ @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading​ @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @lilyjoyner 

[barbecuebabybackribs]

Being in a Poly relationship with Emmett and Rosalie would include:

(Gender Neutral Pronouns

I hope you guys enjoy this! It just popped into my head so I decided to write it out for all of y’all. Also this is super long!! Just a heads up, Enjoy and stay safe guys:) )

To say you surprised them would be a big understatement

They’d both be really conflicted- neither of them wanted to admit they wanted to pursue you

Edward would take pity on them

“Emmett, Rosalie, you both want to be with Y/N- the other won’t be upset if you admit it.”

“...”

Emmett is absolutely pumped- having one mate? Amazing, fabulous. But having two? ABSOLUTE HEAVEN

Rosalie is a bit more conflicted- you’re a human, so fragile and vulnerable. Being around her would mean you’re constantly at risk, not to mention the fact that you becoming a vampire at one point or another shakes her to her very core.

Emmett agree’s to not ask you out until Rosalie is comfortable with it, IF, she agrees to befriend you in the meantime

The next time your in the cafeteria- sitting alone picking at the cheap school lunch, when two people sit at the table with you

When you look up you realize Emmett is on your left and Rosalie is on your right- your surrounded by the schools power couple- the schools very attractive power couple

“Um, Hello?” you say nervously due to the fact they never interact with others outside of there family- let alone you.

“Hello, I’m Rosalie, your Y/N, Right?”

“Yeah, and I know you, You’re Rosalie Hale, and That’s Emmett Cullen, your basically the talk of the school.”

“Oh really? So what have they been saying about us?” Emmett would laugh- knowing some of the rumors going around town were a bit wild.

You’d talk for the rest of the lunch period, telling them about yourself and all the rumors about them- some as simple as Rosalie being a bleached blonde, some being that Emmett ran a satanic sex cult and Rosalie flirts with people to lure them in- that one had Emmett and Rosalie nearly rolling on the floor with laughter

For the next week they’d always sit with you at lunch and you started to consider them friends

The next week they showed up after your last class and walked you to your car

The next week at lunch they started telling you about how they were heading up to Seattle during the weekend

“Hey you know what? You should go with us!”

“Oh? I would hate to impose and be a third wheel.”

“Come on, we’d love to have you there.” Emmett would smile and wrap and arm around you.

You’d look to Rosalie to see if she was okay with it, She had a smile on her face so you assumed she was down

“Yeah, it does sound like fun.”

They’d pick you up from your house the next day in their Jeep

Emmett was blaring music which caused you neighbors to give you a dirty look

Emmett insists you see the “Gum Wall” Which was both interesting a gross

Rosalie takes you to the top of the Space Needle

Rosalie almost has a heart attack- if that were possible- when you stand up to fast and get light headed

Emmett forces you to sit back down and tries to keep Rosalie from calling Carlisle

“I’m sorry guys, I just got light-headed since I haven’t eaten yet today.”

They both forgot you had human needs and Rosalie sits with you scolding you for not telling them you were hungry earlier while Emmett finds food for you

Comes back essentially holding enough food to feed 20 people

“UM! That’d a lot!”

“Well I didn’t know what you wanted so I got one of everything.”

You awkwardly eat as much as you can- offering a lot of it to them and being a tad confused when they decline

You end up giving the leftovers to homeless people

You end up having an amazing day, they take you and bid you farewell- saying you had to do it more often

Watching them drive away you realize you’d fallen for them

You low key feel guilty and the next time the sit with you, you can’t get the thought of you being a horrible person and homewrecker out of your head- I mean they’re in love with each other, who are you to think you even stand a chance?

They both realize something’s off with you and ask Edward later that day if he noticed anything in your thoughts- even though Rosalie told him to stay out of your head.

He tells them what you had been conflicted about

They’re conflicted

Emmett’s pumped you officially like them- and both of them, part of him was worried about you only falling for one of them

Rosalie was happy you shared there feelings but the fact you thought negatively of yourself because of them ate her up.

Rosalie tells Emmett it’s time to consider asking you out,

It still takes them a few weeks to officially ask but suddenly your receiving presents from them and being invited to all kinds of outings

You make them string friendship bracelets and they think it’s the cutest thing in the world- they both wear them 24/7

Movie “Outings”

Hiking “Outings”

Port Angela’s “Outings”

Going to lunch wear only you eat 

Getting ice cream where only you eat.

Basically any human thing they can do, you’re right there next to them

Emmett takes you to play football and only laughs at how bad you are

You’re jaw drops to the floor when you see Emmett throw the ball out of the field

“How the hell?!?”

“Oops, to much power in that one.”

Rosalie takes you on a self pamper day

Hair- Check . Nails- Check. skin Care- Check. Gossip- Check.

You go home that day having dirt on everyone in the town

One day your surprised to see they aren’t waiting for you after class, you stick around for a few minutes to see if they’re late- but they never show

Eventually you head to your car and see them waiting for you there and they finally officially ask you out

Rosalie starts to say it but hesitates and Emmett says it for her

“Y/N, We wanna go out with you.”

“... Like... to the movies?”

“No, we mean, we want to date you.” Rosalie says, tightening her grip on Emmett’s hand

Your silent for a few seconds and they’re worried you’’re going to say no

Pleasantly surprised when you break out in a big smile and say “Yes!”

“Awesome.” Emmett says pulling you into long bear hug- which he squeezes a little to tight but you just savor the moment 

Rosalie is standing next to the both of you, absolutely shocked and excited, gets a big smile on her face when she see’s you and Emmett’s smile and hears how fast your heart is beating

You all enjoy your evening together- your smiles never leaving your faces

They drive you home and Rosalie gives you a hug goodbye- which turns into a group hug when Emmett joins

They never tell you but they heard you call your friend practically squealing in excitement as you told them you’d just got back on a date with “Rosalie AND EMMETT”

They both went home down right giddy- they got cornered by Alice, with Jasper and Edward both in the corner snickering

After you officially start dating Emmett and Rosalie don’t hold back

Emmett has picked you up and carried you around school multiple times

Rosalie had to be physically restrained when someone had the audacity to grope your ass

She still gave them a piece of her mind tho- and it’s rumored they never laid a hand on another person again

They help you study and do your homework- they do have lot’s of experience after all

When your parents aren’t home you all stay up late in the living room watching movies- Rosalie finds your mom baby photo album of you and gushes over tiny you

You end up falling asleep on Emmett’s shoulder- Rosalie takes a photo of you two

Dates with each other but also dates where its just you and Rosalie, you and Emmett, or just the two of them

Emmett kisses you first- takes you surprise and kisses you after he dropped you off at home, then drove away with the biggest cheeky grin in the world

Rosalie is low-key jealous they kissed you first

Next time you see Rosalie? She dips you over and gives you a big ole kiss

Smugly smiles when she see’s you have the biggest blush on your face known to man

After the initial kiss it’s just part of the daily norm

A kiss when you first see each-other, when you say goodbye, a random smooch or two threw out the day

You get all kinds of envious glares from others

Also people who just think you’re sickingly cute

Rosalie decides it’s time for you to know about vampires when you start asking why they never eat on your guy’s dates and there eye’s always change colors

Take you on a long hike so there’s no one around to hear, also encase you feel the need to scream in confusion/fear

You think they’re joking at first

That is until Emmett picks up a boulder and throws it like it’s a baseball across the field

You sit down on a log to process for a second

“Y/N... Are you okay?”

“I made out with a vampire... I made out with two vampires... I’m  DATING TWO VAMPIRES!”

You have a million questions and they answer them all

You ask Emmett to pick you up with one hand- he does and laughs at how surprised you are

“You’re like the hulk!”

You dramatically lean against a tree and tell Rosalie she’ll need to carry you back since your just soo tired- you mean it mainly as a joke

To your surprise she carries you bridal style all the way home- laughing at how giddy you are over such a simple thing

They don’t have fully have sex with you while your human but they are willing to do a lot of other things

They forgot how much humans blush at simple things and it makes no-beating hearts ache

Introduction to the family is a bit awkward but pleasant

Esme absolutely adores you and loves cooking you complex dishes

Carlisle is so happy to see you making his “Kids” happy and also is happy that you’re such a lovely person in general

Edward and Alice basically already know everything about you

Alice gets a little to excited and talks about how good of friends you’ll be and how she’s already planning your new wardrobe

Rosalie pry’s her away from you

Edward doesn’t say much to you but is nice, a little moody but nice

Bella makes sure you feel welcome and tells her if your’re ever struggling to come to her because she’s been in the same situation and knows what it’s like 

After meeting them it basically becomes your second home

They get a bed put in there room so you can spend the night

They love cuddling with you while you sleep, adoring how you’ll softly mumble random words

Cute little picnic dates

You watch Rosalie work on cars and attempt to help her

She ends up teaching you the basics

Sometimes you read to her while she works on cars, or you simply keep her company

Emmett and you wrestle a lot- although he obviously always wins besides the few times he lets you win

You’ve randomly leaped onto his back to many time to count- he loves it

You all go on vacation together during the summer

You go to some private beach and gush over how there skin sparkles so beautifully

Rosalie and Emmett nearly die on the spot when they see you get hit by a car

Rosalie holds you while Emmett calls 911

They realize the cops won’t get there in time- but they don’t want to “doom” you to the life of a vampire

“It’s okay guys, you don’t have to do it.” You would smile weakly at them

“Don’t say that, you’ll be fine.”

It was a lie and you all knew it

When your heart beats starts to slow down and you’re eyes flicker closed they silently agree they have to do it

Emmett is the one who bites you- a lump forming in his throat as you groan in pain as the venom starts to take affect

Rosalie cradles you softly as you start your transition- they end up moving you when they hear the ambulance coming close

They calls the rest of the cullens and let them know- Alice had already seen it but she was to late to call and warn them

They all come to you but all silently agree to only let Rosalie and Emmett in the room your in until you’re ready- most newborns want to be alone

When you wake up and your blood red eyes flicker around the room, you jump up so fast you break the bed frame

All previously dull colors are now vibrant and almost headache inducing, you can hear everything in a room that was previously silent, and the smells- the smells were the worst part, everything was so overwhelming

Not to mention the almost unbearable burning in the back of your throat

“Y/N, are you alright?”

You look over to see a very stressed looking Emmett and Rosalie

“Uhm” You rasp out before clearing your throat, “I.. think so?”

Rosalie offers you a cup of blood Edward had caught for you

You hesitantly take it and ask “What... What does it take like.”

“Take a sip and find out!” Emmett slaps your back and then rubs it supportingly

You take a small sip, surprised at how much it lessens the burning in your throat “It’s.. okay.” You say not wanting to admit it was really good to you- although you do finish the glass

Alice proceeds to carry a whole mirror into the room so you can see yourself- you stare awkwardly at your reflection that now seems foreign

Vampire lessons by everyone

Jasper and Emmett teach you to fight

Carlisle teaches you restraints

Edward and Bella teach you the whole cover story

Rosalie and Alice teach you “How to act human 101″

Emmett and Rosalie both find you one day obviously upset when you realize you’ll have to leave behind your friends and family

They help you learn to cope and let you know it’s completely normal to feel what you feel

Emmett cheers you up by throwing you fifty feet in the air- which was a unique method that worked wonders

Emmett sneak attacks you and you flinch so hard you put a hole in the wall

You get him back by tackling him to the ground- which only works for a second before he’s rolled on top of you and hungrily looking at you lips

You end up making out in the middle of the woods

When the rest of the cullens go back home you decide to stay at the beach for another week

During that week you all agree to take the next step- multiple times

It’s a good thing jasper is out of there because you are full of lust for literal days

You all go home and Edward immediately cringes at Emmett’s thoughts

You home to reveal all your previous rooms stuff had been moved to Rosalie and Emmett’s room- Well now Rosalie, Emmett’s, and Your room

You all are cuddle bugs

Resting your head on Rosalie’s chest is your favorite thing

Well, Clinging to Emmett’s back while he makes his way threw daily life is also up there

You all go hunting together and are one powerful gang

In Rosalie’s eyes your all damned but at least you’re damned together

You all spend the rest of your very long lives protecting and loving each other- even threw the roughest of times nothing could break you apart

You all love each other and that’s enough

[mochii0park]

 meraki; chapter 01 I jhs

Title: Meraki

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader / Jin x Reader

Part of series: Waterlilies and Japanese Bridge

Genre: angst I fluff

Pairing: literaryscout!hoseok x writer!reader

Word count: 4.5k

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

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

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

@namsope32 , @cuteipat , @ofvopemin

Masterlist

Meraki masterlist

< intro | chapter 02 >

Seokjin got engaged and moved to the USA.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you feeling?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I just expected him to inform me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The rest of the ride was spent with you eating out your emotions with the food Sehun bought from your local fast-food restaurant. Not much was said between you and him as he drove into the night letting you process the whole situation, only dropping you off at home when you felt yourself calming down.

Once in the confides of your room you strip yourself of any pent-up emotions letting all the pallet of different feelings overran you. Taking a pen, you let your heart pour into endless words scribbled away in your notebook. When you’ve felt empty the high gone, you take your laptop opening the site you’ve a long time member of. It came to you on Instagram in a form of a poorly done advertisement. It was a website for people wanting to share their poetry with strangers.

At first, you’ve done what you always do: began self-doubting your poems and their worth. Most of them were written in a spur of a moment when you felt like you would burst from the number of things you felt. But one night, when sleep couldn’t come to you and the pain of losing the person you held dear lingered in the air threatening to choke you; you signed in posting your work. It was raw and you suddenly felt exposed and naked in front of the world.

That’s how Meraki came to be. How your pseudonym became your shield, allowing you to burden it with any thought or emotion you’ve felt. In the online world Meraki was a fierce writer, letting her readers know of the pain and suffering she felt. In real world Meraki was an introverted person hiding herself from anyone willing to come close.

                                                   ____

 It was a hot Wednesday morning when you’ve gotten an e-mail from your sister informing you of her whereabouts. Due to your mother’s work preventing her from traveling, she decided to pay you a visit instead; much to your delight. The days to her wedding were numbered and so was your sanity.

Luckily for you she and her fiancée decided to stay with your parents.

The thought of her roaming the halls of the only place you’ve managed to cover in comfort was disturbing you. It wasn’t that you hated your sister but although you’ve dealt with your own insecurities some parts of the trauma still hung over you.

You’ve managed to avoid her for a good number of days since she landed in Seoul but now a week later you ran out of excuses. That’s how you found yourself sitting in a posh sea food restaurant, juggling your anxiety during the family dinner.

The last time you saw your whole family was at your grandfather’s birthday (which happened six months ago). The event left a bad taste in your mouth after you’ve spent majority of time listening to your sister’ success only receiving attention when she addressed you.

Solar and her fiancée Minho discussed the menu as they skimmed through different meals. You have been so busy staring at one spot that you’ve never noticed the waiter taking orders.

“Y/N?” Solar spoke catching your attention.

“One chicken fillet for me please.” You were so preoccupied with different thoughts you never saw what they had to offer therefore you went with your go-to food.

The moment the waiter leaves the table with the menus, your mother scoffs. “Aish you’re eating chicken again, we’re in an exclusive sea food restaurant and you’re embarrassing us.  “

“Mother, let her eat what she wants.” Solar interrupted your mother’s complaining, switching the topic to her wedding dress. Your mother beamed at the photos she showed her.

It was somehow sad how much power Solar had over your parents. One word was enough to ease them into doing whatever she liked whilst you had to beg and crawl your way and even then, you were no match for her.

You felt severely out of the place. The two talking about preparations while your father and Minho gushed over their new apartment in Tokyo. You sat there in your chair counting down minutes until you could leave. Any other day you wouldn’t bother to attend the dinner but now Solar insisted you showed up. Something about the sight of her family warming her heart, bunch of bullshit.

“How are you doing Y/N?” She asks ignoring your mother as she mumbles under her breath about your bad habits, one being smoking.

You took up smoking in your last year of university when the pressure of getting a master’s degree and balancing your parents had been too much to take in. A lot of your friends decided to find comfort in weed, but you never understood the thrill of it. Rather than spending enormous amounts for just one puff, you could buy a pack of cigarettes and still have money left for some booze.

“Not much, same old same old.” You answered pushing your nervousness away.

There wasn’t much happening in your life. You’ve started a job in a bookstore and spent your free time either with Sehun or Jihyo.

“How’s Seokjin?”

That one question had caught the table’s attention and suddenly you felt a terrible need to smoke one. Your families were acquainted through work, your fathers working together on a project. They had been shocked when they discovered that you and Seokjin had been close friends for a long time.

“He’s fine.”

“I heard he got engaged,” Your mother spoke up,” to Kim’s daughter Jisoo. Ah what a wonderful being that one is.”

“Oh?” Solar gave your mother a perplexed look narrowing her head at you. You played with the glass in front of you, the object suddenly becoming interesting.

“I thought you and he were dating.” Minho joined, telling the words that were stuck on the tip of your sister’s tongue.

“Y/N and Seokjin? Don’t make me laugh. They are worlds apart. Seokjin is so focused on his career while our Y/N thinks writing will make her a fortune.”

Taking a sip of water, you try your best to wash away the nasty words threatening to leave your mouth. Your parents never approved of your career choice not that you even cared about their opinion.

Solar hums pulling her lips into a straight line. “I’ve must’ve mistaken then. I was sure I saw you-“

“Here is your food.”

And that’s how you were saved from the embarrassment of having to explain to your sister that what she saw was imagination playing tricks on her and not you and Jin making out in front of your house. It was awkward enough when she pestered you about it the next day.

The conversation takes on a different dynamic and you breathe out in relief. You were still trying to process the news and talking about him wasn’t helping your soul.  You gather yourself before your façade could fall and mask it with a stoic expression continuing your countdown till desert when Sehun would call you for an “emergency”.

Right on time you think as your phone began to ring.

You pretend to gasp covering your mouth to show concern as Sehun sputtered nonsense. He kept talking about his trip to the gym and how his feet hurt from all the exercise he did while you tried not to show disgust as explained in detail how hit his little finger against a metal device . Solar shot you a worried look as you excused yourself from the table.

“And the award for the best actress goes out to Y/L Y/N” Sehun pitches once you close the door of the restaurant. Shooting a quick apology message to Solar, you jump into his car deJa’vu hitting you.

“I should get paid for spending so much time with you.” Sehun dripped in sweat, his black shirt sticking moistly to his body, hair pushed back.

You shrugged falling into a comfortable silence. Half an hour later he stops at the number 13, the windows of your house distinguishable by the large number of flowers catching last rays of Sun before the night settles.

“That will be 100 won and a Mcdonald’s later when you’re free.”

“Yeah, not happening” you tell Sehun, already halfway out of the car, rucksack slipping from your shoulder.

He raises a brow at you.” I am not your personal driver Y/N. I had to leave my girlfriend to drive you back.”

You scoff as you roll your eyes at him.” I’ve told you to call me for an emergency. There was no picking up included.”

He mimics your words mockingly before pressing the gas pedal leaving you behind him. Unlocking your apartment door, you’re greeted with your dog sleeping in the hallway not giving you a second glance as you pass over him. Haku’s snores echo through the empty apartment warming your heart. The Shiba became your companion two years ago when you were going through a rough patch. It took some time for you to get used to each other but now you couldn’t image not having his snot buried into your business.

Turning on the lights you sit at the kitchen table pulling your leg up to rest your head on the knee. Opening your laptop, you see a few notifications popping up on the sideline about your recent orders. Just when you were about to close the notification center you see one mail standing out. The name Jung Hoseok makes you jolt in your seat.

Dear writer aka meraki,

I hope this e-mail find you well. My name is Jung Hoseok, I’m the CEO of ZER Publishing company. I’ve taken interest in your poetry and would like to have a meeting to discuss a possible collaboration between us.

Kind regards,

Jung Hoseok

The scream that came from you couldn’t possibly be human. Closing the laptop as if it will burn you, you throw it on the sofa choosing to avoid it until tomorrow.

You didn’t know how he found you giving that any personal information on the site was strictly private. Pacing back and forward you facetimed Sehun. He picks up after three very long rings making your heart beat erratically against your chest.

“I swear to God if this is another one of your emergency calls.” Sehun stands there in nothing but a towel hugging his waist. He moves to the other side of the bathroom, bare feet pacing against the marble floor.

“I got an e-mail.”

He curses, his voice muffled from the towel pressed against his face. ” You called me to tell me about a mail?”

“Not any mail, Sehun. I was contacted by Jung Hoseok.” You whisper still walking back and forward, Haku following every step of yours. Sehun tries not to pay close attention to you, getting slowly dizzy from all the commotion.

“And something tells me I should know who that is?”

You halt taking a moment to stop yourself from starting a conversation about common knowledge again, it was a sour subject. “He messaged through the mail used for Meraki.”

This time Sehun is quite for a few seconds taking in your words. You don’t see him, but you can hear deodorant spray and shuffle of clothes. “How? Isn’t that private?”

“Yes.”

And suddenly the anxious feeling was back. The poems you wrote there were strictly private, the mention of your love life and your hardships with your family were never meant to be linked back to you. You’ve checked the websites policy not wanting anyone to associate you with the account. If that were to happen you can immediately start packing your things to move to another continent.

“I am sure he didn’t hack it; nobody is that desperate. Maybe he contacted the website owner?” Sehun takes his phone, hair freshly washed strands falling over his face. He moves from the bathroom to the kitchen placing you carefully , so you could see the whole room.

You think for a second, there was a possibility. “Isn’t that a violation of my privacy?”

“I can try to read out the rights and policy. Come up with a text signed as your lawyer but Y/N” Sehun’s voice is soft, something he did to calm you down. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, eyes having an internal battle, the look you’ve seen on him in rare moments.

“Yes?”

“I am sure if you refuse, he won’t bother you. I am also sure you don’t have much to lose if you agree.”

                                                         ____

Hoseok was on his fifth coffee by noon, deprived of any sleep last night.  He was starved for a good literature piece that would leave him in myriad emotions. Sadly, he came up with an empty line. He spent his days cocooned in the corner of Suho’s café reading page by page poetry that awoke no emotion except irritation. He was on the brink of losing his mind.

Suho slides into the booth, careful not to startle Hoseok.” Have you found anything?”

Hoseok ruffles his hair before resting his head in his hands. He was desperate enough to visit fanfiction sites in hopes of stumbling upon work that had  the spark.

“Maybe you should take a break? Visit those open mic nights where people recite their poems?”

Hoseok shakes his head having already used that option last week. “I’ve been to three mic nights and not one was interesting. I am on a verge leaving everything behind to become a stripper. Yoongi did say I have an amazing body."

Sehun by now used to his friend’s dramatic antics shrugs his shoulder.” You should really take a break. You’ve been searching for a month now.”

Hoseok wished he could take a break, but the existence of his firm lay in his hands. That enough gave him tremendous worry pushing him way above his limits.

“I know but if I don’t find a good piece in a month, I can close the firm. Do you know what that means? Hundreds of people losing their job.” Hoseok wasn’t the one to crumble under pressure but now he felt like crying. Suho offered him a smile he’s seen before, the pity smile. Patting his shoulder he gets up at the sound of doors opening ,customers swarming in.

At the end of the day Hoseok thinks everything has turned against him. His laptop dies in the middle of reading, and he discovers he forgot his charger at home. In all the despair and anger he accidentally knocks over the mug spilling coffee over important documents and his newly bought jeans. The stain will probably leave a small burn that he wasn’t ready to face today. He’ll take care of it tomorrow.

On the side Suho observes his restless friend. He felt bad for not being able to help him more, but he already used all his resources and sent them anonymously to his mail only for Hoseok to turn it down.

Sehun walks into the café with his gym in one hand and candy in the other, drops of sweat forming on his forehead. He was waiting for a call from Y/N, prepared to jump into his car at any second. He greets Suho, his sight landing on an exhausted Hoseok bumping his head repeatedly against the table lightly. He hoped to never reach this point of insanity. 

“What’s his problem?”

Suho follows Sehun’s line of sight. Hoseok sits in the booth, forehead rested against the table. Both his mind and body were tired, and the clock was ticking. “He needs to find a good poetry piece to publish otherwise he’s toast.”

In that moment Sehun weights his options. He knew how self-conscious you were about your work thinking it lacked emotion and quality and this seemed like a good opportunity to prove you otherwise. On the other hand, there was the issue with people closely linked with your poems. He takes his time picking between different sugars, steering the coffee slow enough to buy him at least one more minute.

Pushing the bills to Suho he takes a sip. “There is a website called Nora, it had lots of good poetry. I've read some.”

Suho nods following Sehun out of the café promising to deliver the message to Hoseok. Once locked up he slides back into the booth watching Hoseok pack his belongings ready to call it a day. “This costumer told me about Nora site. You should give a shot.”

“Nora?” Hoseok mocks, he heard of all the websites used for writing but Nora didn’t ring a bell.

“I think it’s new. I’ve never heard of it but he seemed sure of his words. The worst that can happen is he lied and knowing Sehun that’s unlikely.”

Hoseok nods eager to go back home to his cat Nobus and prepare himself a warm bath to release the tension built up in his muscles. Waving goodbye to Sehun, he exits the shop from the back door and turns on the engine of his car driving away to the beat of classical music easing him.

Entering his small apartment located in the centre of Seoul, he throws his shoes to the side not bothering for order tonight. Slouching himself on the couch he pets Nobus, the cat bumping his head against his arm purring softly. With eyelids half closed he opens the website on his phone, picking poetry as his preferred category.

Selecting a random writer he opens the first poem, eyes scanning the text.

 I love you             like the habit I picked up in college                  of sleeping through lectures                  or saying I’m sorry                  when I get stopped for speeding             because I drink a glass of water                  in the morning                  and chain-smoke cigarettes                  all through the day             because I take my coffee Black                  and my milk with chocolate             because you keep my feet warm                  though my life a mess I love you             because deep down I know                  you'll never be mine again   (author of the poem: Nikki Giovanni, I added three last sentences)*

With every word that Hoseok took in he felt himself back in university, all drunk on the idea of loving the girl that sat two seats in front of him during microeconomics. He relives the ecstasy of having love running through his veins, he feels the desire under his fingertips for just one touch, he crumbles at the pain of finding her kissing his best friend. Hoseok feels like his heart had been ripped apart with just few simple letters placed in a neat poem.

He sees the words meraki scribbled in a messy handwriting under the poem and he feels as if his prayers have been answered.

[forthehpfanboys]

You're An Idiot

Pair: Draco Malfoy x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Draco is being a brat.. Again. No one's surprised when you run into him after getting back late from Hogsmeade. Also, the reader is Hermione's older brother.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI). Just- get the holy water. Swearing, oral, Sassy Hermione?? Still doesn't follow the movies or the books or anything. If I forgot any, please dm me.

Note: Requested! And Bottom Draco-I was up all night typing this. God, I am so sorry for the grammar and crap when I first posted this. I fixed it up, so it should be better!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

Being Hermione's older brother meant you usually had to deal with a lot of shit, especially since she'd drag you on adventures with the Golden Trio. She'd always use the promise you made to your parents in your face. Yeah. You had sworn you'd protect the younger Granger when she first started going to the school. At the time, you didn't know that'd mean every single bloody year.

Since you were a year older then the Golden Trio, you ended up resolving problems and fixing some of their mistakes and reminding them to sleep during particularly stressful days. You could've swore the four of you just attracted problems better than magnets attract metal. Of course, you wanted them to be safe and healthy, but one little bleached ferret always made it hard. That ferret, of course, was Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.

Stupid Draco Malfoy who always managed to look top notch in anything he wore and Godric what you'd do to get that ferret on his knees, ruin his pretty hair and- You probably shouldn't be thinking this in the dinner hall, especially since you were sitting next to your sister. Speaking of your sister, she turned to you, a smile on her face.

"So, (Y/n). I was curious if you wanted to come with us to Hogsmead this weekend? Harry got Sirius to sign for him and Professor Magonagall accepted it under the circumstances." Hermione's voice rang through your skull as she spoke, your head already nodding up and down. It'd be a nice little break, especially during your 7th year.

"Of course I'm down, Mione!" you wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to her side. "You know I'll use any excuse to be with my favorite bunch of idiots." you messed up her hair, causing her to smack your hands away and almost shove you off the bench.

You let out a laugh, completely oblivious to the Slytherin staring at you from across the room with the most desperate expression on his face. You shoved your sister back, a smirk growing on your face as she fell from the bench.

"Haha! Payback!"

"Not funny, (Y/n)!"

"Yes it is, Mione! You should know by now I'm always gonna get revenge!" you ran a hand through your hair, shooting her a smile. The two boys who sat across from you nodded in agreement.

"He's right, Herman. (haha, reference-) It is pretty funny." Ron smiled, holding his fist out for you to bop.

The week seemed to pass with ease, allowing the weekend and it's snowy fun to arrive without hesitation. You trudged out in the snow, leading the trio of 6 years to Hogsmead. You hummed a muggle Christmas song deep in your throat as you walked, looking up at the snow covered signs.

"Where should we go first, children? Hogs Head? Honeydukes? What ya kids feeling?" One thing you absolutely ADORED was teasing about the age difference between you and the trio.

"We're not children!" Ron shouted, his arms crossing over his bulky winter jacket.

"Yeah! Besides, even if we weren't totally responsible adults, we'd wanna go to the Hogs Head, right guys? Get a butter bear or two?" Harry spoke up, moving his scarf down to speak properly before putting it back over his mouth and nose.

"Uh Huh. Sure." You snickered, your hands shoved in your pocket of your pants. You'd given Hermione your jumper, leaving you in a scarf, fingerless gloves and your long sleeve t-shirt.

The four of you got interrupted by a line of people literally blocking your path. It was none other than the stupidly pretty Draco and his 'gang' stood in front of you, arms crossed like a bunch of wanna be badasses.

"Well, well, if it isn't Potter and his 3 little blood traitors." Draco spoke, his voice filled with smugness and his face dragged in a cocky smirk.

God, did you wanna get revenge against that stupid smirk.

"Oh, please Malfoy. You do this almost every week. Just admit you have a crush on Harry and move on." You spoke, taking a step toward him. The ferret's smirk faltered and turned into a scowl.

"Oh please. As if I'd stoop low enough to like someone like Potter." Draco all but gagged at the idea of dating the messy haired rival and you wondered what he'd look like gagging on your stick. It suddenly became a little warmer in the winter atmosphere.

"Then you have an unhealthy obsession, mate." Ron spoke up, his arms crossed. "Might wanna get that fixed and leave us be."

"Yeah, Malfoy. We're trying to have a good day and you're ruining it with your ugly mug." Hermione spoke up, causing you to feel nothing but pure pride. She'd changed a lot from the shy girl she used to be in 1st year.

Crabb or Goyle, you didn't care to learn their names, stepped forward, causing you to instinctively step in front of your friends. Malfoy scoffed again, looking you up and down before turning his head.

"Whatever." the blonde pureblood spoke as he began walking away, his posse turning to follow, but not without shooting you one last glare.

"Yeah, you... You better leave?" You spoke, confusion clear in your voice. Usually you'd be inches from his face, shouting about the shit antics his father pulled before he backed down. Turning to the other three, you shrugged and led them to Hogsmead, hoping to escape the cold.

Once inside, you all ordered a warm glass of butterbeer as you picked a table by the fireplace. Taking your first sip immediately warmed you up, a sigh leaving your lips.

"Godric Gryffindor. I haven't felt warmth in what felt like forever." You said cooly, smirking to your sister. "I wonder why I would be oh, so cold."

"Ok. We get it. I forgot my jacket. Stop it." The brunette responded, causing Harry to almost choke on his drink and for Ron to snort. You faked a gasp, your hand going to your chest in mock shame. You'd been teasing her about it almost the entire way there.

"Such sass!" You shook your head. "What would mom and dad say?"

"They'd say you deserve to shove it."

"Oh, come now, sister of mine! Don't be a stick in the mud!"

The two friends sitting across from the Granger siblings sat in silence. This was some of the best entertainment they get during the week and they always savored it.

"I'm not being a stick in the mud, you're just being a dick."

"Well you know what they say. You are what you eat-"

Ron and Harry didn't even miss a beat. They broke out laughing together as Hermione shouted, her face a pinkish color.

"(Y/N)!!"

"What? We all know it's true!"

"Merlin's beard you suck."

"That's the point, sis."

"Go- stop. Please. I'm begging you."

"Ok! Ok." you chuckled out, raising your hands in defeat.

You and the trio managed to keep up the conversation easily, but as time went on, it was time to go back, well, that's what you told them. It was time for the kiddos to go back and finish their homework so they had tomorrow to actually relax. Of course, this caused Harry and Ron to groan and whine, but Hermione finally convinced them, saying she'd help.

You let out a sigh and leaned back in your chair, your eyes falling closed. The stupid blonde hottie has been raging in your head for what felt like forever, so you weren't surprised when he popped up behind your eyelids again.

You truly didn't want to admit it, but you'd liked the jerk since he popped up randomly in your second year. He was a twat to your sister and her friends, but somehow he slithered into your heart and head all the stupid time.

Over time like turned to crush, crush turned to yearned, yearned turned to lust, because it certainly wasn't love. That's what you convinced yourself as you tossed your head back, swallowing the last of your fourth butterbeer.

You sat in front of the fire for a few more minutes before you stood up, placed some coins at the end of your table to pay for the drinks and left the restaurant, venturing out into the snow.

It was colder before, thanks to the sun setting over the castle. Shrugging off the cold, you walked down the familiar path back to Hogwarts. You tightened the scarf around your face as a particularly cold breeze blew past you. Once the entrance of the castle came up, you all but jogged to the door, ripping it open. The inside was warmer, thank Merlin.

You were suddenly grateful for the 7 years you'd spent at Hogwarts. You were able to mindlessly walk the halls and make it to the staircase leading up to the Fat Lady's portrait. As you were trudging up the steps, you noticed a A flash of a shadow duck past a knight.

"Oh, ok. Cool. Filch’ll just kill me. Awesome." you grumbled, hurrying up the stairs as quietly as you could, but we're quickly halted. The shadow wasn't Filch or his crazed cat. It was Malfoy.

Of course it was Malfoy. We gotta get to the good stuff somehow, right?

...

Anyway, you sensed he was up to no good considering he should be in the Slytherin Common Room probably sleeping and not sneaking around by the Gryffindor one. You crossed your arms over your chest, watching the blonde keeping his head turned to watch his back as he climbed the same steps you were on.

"Malfoy."

"AAH-"

You all but lunged to cover his mouth with one hand, the other going to the back of his neck to keep him still. "Shut it, you git! Do you want to get caught?" your eyebrows furrowed together as you pressed him to the stairs railing, trying to intimidate the younger male.

What you didn't know was that this was waayy to hot for Malfoy to comprehend. His back went rigid at your touch and his breathing all but stopped as he stared into your (e/c) eyes.

"Well, do you?"

Your hushed voice snapped Draco out of his trance, causing him to shake his head.

"Good, then keep your voice down. What are you doing out here anyway?" you spoke, moving your hands away from him, much to his dismay. He was just grateful you didn't back away. He liked your body against his.

"I was uh-well, I was trying to.. Find the bathroom." He usually kept his composure, but he was failing miserably. He usually kept it together so well but now.. Now Draco was struggling. He was not going to admit he was on his way to sneak into the Gryffindor common room and leave you a love note. No. Why would he do that??

"The bathroom? It isn't up this set of stairs, ya idiot." you grabbed his arm, leading him down the stairs. "Besides, you should have a bathroom on your side of the school, so what are you really doing here?"

"What does it matter?" he spat out. "You obviously think you know everything." you rolled your eyes at his brattiness and walked over to the corridor glancing down it before pressing your back against the wall.

"What are you doing?"

"Shut it Malf-"

"No. I don't ha-"

"I said shut it or I will gag your mouth with your own fucking tie." you covered his mouth again, pressing him back against the wall. "Godric. Just put your ego away for 2 seconds."

Draco desperately wanted to say 'Make me, Granger' but he was lost in the idea of your threat coming true.

Satisfied at his silence, you watched one of the patrolling professors walk down the corridor and right past you two. Not spotting anyone or anything, they continued on before you swept him down the entrance.

"Ok. Come on." You whispered to him as you walked down the corridor. You were taking him to that one girls bathroom that no one goes into, ya know, with Myrtle. You were just hoping she was gonna be literally anywhere but that bathroom.

"Where are we going?"

"You said you wanted a bathroom, idiot. I'm taking you to one where you can piss in peace and leave me alone."

"I.. What?"

"Forget it, Malfoy." You took one more turn and finally saw the opening off the bathroom. "Ok. We're here." Of course Blondie had a problem though. He shot the (h/c) male a glare before scrunching up his nose.

"This is the girls lavatory."

"Oh, you think I care. Funny." you grabbed him by the shirt covering his shoulder and pushed him inside, following after his stumbling form.

"Don't touch me, Granger. I don't want whatever germs mud bloods carry." Draco scoffed, fixing his shirt and brushing off his shoulder, as if dirt was there.

"Call me that again and I won't hesitate to ruin that pretty face you cherish so much." You growled out, grabbing his shirt by the collar and pulling him toward you. "One day that silver tongue of ours is going to get you in a lot of trouble." Pushing him away from your figure, you turned toward one of the many mirrors lining the wall.

You looked at your reflection and fixed a strand of hair, then took off your scarf. It was warm in this bathroom. You folded the scarf and looked back into the reflective glass to see Malfoy smirking in the background.

"What?"

"You called me pretty." He had his arms crossed over his chest. Your aggravated tone did nothing to his smirk.

".. You're dumb as hell, ya know that?" you turned to face the male and his confidence seemed to shrink a little bit. You advanced toward him and he stepped backwards. He wanted to keep distance between you two in case a fight broke out. He'd seen you fight other people bigger than you and remembered how they were sent to the Hospital wing. "You're a twat. You're a self centered brat who thinks he rules this school."

He gulped when he felt his back press against the wall. "Yeah? And what are you going to do about it Granger?" Draco could feel the blood rush to his cheeks. You must've noticed his face turning Gryffindor red because next thing he knew, you were pressed up against him, pinning him to the wall. He felt his breath catch in his throat when your eyes glanced at his lips for a brief second.

"I might teach you a lesson." Your hands came at either side of his head, a dangerous smirk drawing across your lips. You leaned forward, your lips ghosting over his. "You have been such a brat lately. A punishment is in order, hmm?"

Draco's hands tried to grip the wall, his nails scraping against it. Fuck, the way your voice dropped sent blood from his cheeks to his dick almost immediately.

With that, you slammed your lips to his, causing a breathy whine to escape Draco's throat. You tilted your head, your tongue grazing across his lips as your hand slipped through his hair. The blonde wrapped his arms around your neck as he opened his mouth, his tongue meeting yours. With teeth clashing, your bodies pressed together and a hand in his hair, you easily gained dominance.

You pulled from the kiss, causing Malfoy to let out a protest.

"Shut it, brat." You grumbled, a hand covering his mouth as you planted a kiss to the side of his neck. "Besides, we're out past curfew. Would hate to get caught."

He could feel you smirk against his skin, your hand in his bleached locks tugging his head to the side so you had more room. He jumped a little when he felt you bite down on his neck. The younger man's eyes fell shut as you attacked his neck with love bites and hickeys.

Your hand covering his mouth moved to his cheek as you placed a kiss on a particularly big hickey.

"You ok?" your voice was soft and sweet against his ear. He nodded quickly, not wanting this to end, which only caused you to snicker. Draco blinked a few times in confusion when you placed your hands on his shoulders and began to push him down to his knees.

"I'd rather not kneel on the floor."

"Why not?"

"It's filthy!"

You stared at Draco for a few seconds before rolling your eyes and you shoved him down to his knees.

"I don't care if it's filthy. You have magic, don't you? Clean your knees when we're done. Simple." you smirked down at him, joy filling your heart. God, it genuinely felt good to see the cocky pureblood on his knees, his head turned in a silent protest.

One hand stayed on his shoulder, the other moved itself to the bulge between your legs. The groan that left your lips caught his attention. The hand against your bulge grounded down, causing you to groan.

"Oh, now I've got your attention?"

"Shove it, Granger."

"Now, now. That's no way to talk to me, I am older."

Draco rolled his eyes so hard you were sure they were gonna roll straight out of his head. But since this whole event was anything but straight, you figured it wouldn't happen that easily.

The man on his knees swatted your hand away and wasted zero time unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down around your knees. He stared at the bulge in your galaxy themed boxers, the tips of his ears turning a bright pink. He noticed the damp spot right by the tip and realized it was from him.

Suddenly, his confidence came back, and the blonde quickly began mouthing at your erection. With a rough groan, you rested your hand on top of his head and used the other stabilizing you against the wall.

"Go on, then. Don't be shy." You chuckled, gently ruffling his hair. The 6th year reached up, quickly pulling down your boxers to reveal your hard length.

"I'm not shy." When he finally met your eyes, you noticed his blue ones burning with a lust that you'd only wished to see in your dreams.

"Uh huh, then why aren't you sucking my dick, hmm?" You smirked, pushing your hips forward.

"I might bite it with the attitude you hold." The blonde spoke as he leaned forward, licking from the base to the tip in one, long swipe. You let out a sigh, your head slowly tipping backwards as his tongue grazed over the tip of your wood.

"You love my attitude. I bet you always have."

Draco wanted to mock you or laugh at you or something, but he knew you were right so instead, he sucked on your tip like it was a popsickle. He hallowed his cheeks and kept eye contact with you as he slowly took you into his mouth.

You let out a gasp at how hot it was. Visually and physically, it was so damn hot. Your grip tightened on his hair when his tongue ran along the vein on the bottom.

"Fuck- Ah, Draco-" You tried not to move your hips. After all, you didn't know how much experience he had, but it felt like he was pretty well off.

Draco, however, was focused on the way you said his name. It dragged a moan out of him. This might've been the first time he heard you say his first name and your gravely voice made it so wonderful.

The blonde on his knees suddenly wanted to hear you say it again. He closed his eyes, pulling back to take a breath before he pushed forward. The pureblood focused on trying to take you down his throat. His eyebrows furrowed together when he gagged and chose to ignore his tears.

"Oh shit!" you hissed out, your jaw dropping when you felt his nose press against your pelvis. "Draco, how the hell-?" you bucked forward when you felt him try to swallow around you. "Ooh, Godric!" you tossed your head back, your hand against the wall curling into a fist.

Draco pulled back and slowly went down on you again, a breathy whine leaving your throat.

"You are far too good at this, baby."

All too soon he was pulling off you completely, which causes you to whine and look down at him. He was looking down at his hands that rested in his lap.

"What? Did I say something wrong?" You asked, your head tilting to the side a little bit.

"No!" his head shot up to look at you, his eyes wide. "I mean.. No... No, I've just never been called something so.. Soft."

This caused your eyebrows to furrow together. "Huh. Well, let's change that. Come on." You stepped out of the pants pooled at your feet and held a hand out to him, which he took.

You gently led him over to the sinks, turning him around to face his reflection. "I got you." you whispered in his ear, causing him to shudder.

He nodded his head, looking down at the sink in front of him. The pureblood rested his hands against the porcelain. The 6th year's heart was pounding in his ears, his bottom lip becoming trapped between his teeth.

The blonde felt your hands run from the back of his neck, to his shoulders and down his back before finally landing on his hips. The wizard felt a heat pooling in his belly when he felt your hips press against his ass.

You reached around to his front, undoing his belt and slowly pulling it free from the loops before tossing it off to the side. He finally looked up at the mirror, taking in the reflection of his messy hair, swollen lips and your hands coming back to his front.

"I got you, Draco." Your voice was soft. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about anything." You smiled at him over his shoulder and winked before popping the button of his trousers open and allowed gravity to pull them down.

Malfoy gasped when you cupped his bulge, his hips automatically pushing forward. He'd been hard since you pinned him against the railing.

"(Y/n).." he whispered out, his mouth falling open when your thumb ran across the head of his cock.

"Yes, babe?" Your smile has turned into a knowing smirk. Blue eyes bounced between your hand and that devious smirk, Draco's brain conflicted on which sight was better. "Do you need something?"

He nodded his head, blonde locks bouncing.

"Please." his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Please? Please what?" Your fingers slipped past the elastic of his boxers, a false sense of innocence laced in your voice.

"Move- touch me- damnit, Granger, please."

You finally pushed his boxers down, your hands running along the front of his thighs before finally landing on what he wanted you to focus on. The blonde let out a sigh of your name when your hand finally wrapped around his dick.

A small smile stretched across his face once your hand started moving. The pleasure wasn't new, but was oh so welcomed. He was glad he finally got you.

You gave him a few pumps, allowing his precum to build up on your hand, making everything easier.

"There ya go, baby. So sweet." You whispered, kissing the back of his ear.

Draco brought a pale pink lip between pearly white teeth again, his hips pushing forward to get more.

The hand still resting on his hip came around to the front, gathered a bit of precum off the tip before slinking back around to the back. He used the pre like lube and pushed a finger into Draco's tight hole, causing him to emit a squeal and arch his back a little but.

"Oh, Godric. I'm so excited to wreck you, baby."

"(Y/n)!" he squeaked out as the finger went deeper. He bit his lip harder, the pain slowly dying out and being replaced with a burning pleasure.

You loved hearing your name being moaned like that, just like he enjoyed hearing his when he was suckin' on your lolli. You added a second finger, slowly thrusting them in and out to try and speed this along. You could only jerk someone off for so long anyway.

You licked your lips, a determined expression event on how badly you wanted him. Maybe eating his ass would've been more effective.

"Please hurry, I don't know how much more of this I can take-" his voice was higher in pitch, his hips pushing back against you. "Please-"

"Ok, baby, ok. No need to beg." you chuckled, removing your hands from their working positions. Gently rubbing your hand over one cheek, you spread it open enough to spit in it, just to be safe. "Ready?" your free hand grabbed your own dick pumping it a few times for good measure.

"I wouldn't be asking you to do it if I wasn't, now would I?" the blonde snapped back, glaring over his shoulder. How did he go from so innocent he's almost choking from one finger in him to being a demanding brat all over again?

You rolled your eyes and lined yourself up, carefully and slowly pushing in until you made it past the first ring of muscle. Both of you moaned at the feeling, your hands coming to rest against his hips as his head ducked down, his chin pressed against his chest.

You slowly pushed in deeper, a whine leaving his throat as the twisted pain came back. You reached around to grab his dick again and jerked him off a little bit more to try and counterbalance the pain.

Once you were all the way in, you just let him adjust. You kissed across his still clothed shoulders and neck, whispering encouraging words of praise.

The hand on his hip dragged itself upward, your eyes following it in the mirror. Once it made it to his chest, you cupped one of his pecs through the shirt, feeling his perky nipple pressing against your palm.

Grinding your palm down against his nipple and continuing to rub his dick, you slowly pulled out almost all the way before pushing back in with one sweep.

You literally left him breathless. He was staring at you through the reflection in the mirror, his mouth hanging open, his eyes glazed over with need, his hair a mess.

You built up a pave easily, deep and hard but slow and Draco loved every second of it. His toes curled in his boots, his back arched into your hands while his hips fought to figure out if they wanted to go forward into your hand or back into your dick. It truly was a conundrum for the twink.

"Such a good boy for me, aren't ya?" You spoke up after a while, your voice gravelly and rough and right in his ear. You let out a breathy laugh when he shuddered and moaned from that alone.

The two of you weren't concerned with the sound of skin hitting skin or your moans echoing around the hallow bathroom. You were busy, I don't blame you.

Soon enough, Draco was begging you to speed up, his release starting to creep it's way around. You nodded your head, resting your forehead against his shoulder as you spend your hips up, a grunt leaving your lips.

Draco let out a loud whine when your fingers pinched one of his nipples, his hands clawing at the walls as pleasure coursed through his veins.

"I'm gonna cum in you." You groaned against his back. "I'm gonna mark you as mine and you're gonna sit there and enjoy it."

Fuck yeah, he was.

Draco was nowhere near complaining. He'd been fantasizing of this and so much more for years. He, of course, blamed his hormones, but he knew the effect ran deeper than just lust.

Draco nodded his head. "Please-" he moaned out your name, his thighs trembling from the pleasure. He was getting closer and, honestly, so where you.

The pureblood was so warm and hugged you so right in all the right places and Albus mother-fucking Dumbledore where you getting more of this later.

This stupid cute blonde was so intoxicating it almost made you feel pathetic. Keyword is almost.

You sped up, chasing after your own release as it also reared its head around the corner.

"G-gonna cum-" Draco stuttered out, his voice cracking. One hand fell from the wall to the porcelain sink at his waist. "I-I'm.. Gonna-" he called out your name, loud enough for it to probably be heard by the Gryffindors, as he came.

He tightened and spasmed around you, his legs shaking and tiny moans leaving his throat as you helped him ride out his orgasm.

"Are you good?" You asked, rubbing his back and soon letting go of his soft dick when he deemed it was sensitive. "Do you want me to pull out?"

Draco shook his head, his ears noticeably red from behind him. "I want you to keep your promise."

He did not have to tell you twice. You went back to thrusting into him, both hands on his waist as you sought after your own orgasm. A few moans and groans from you later and you were cumming inside him.

You leaned into him, riding it out until his tight, hot ass became too much. You pulled out carefully, causing him to whine and twitch.

"Let's get you cleaned up, ok, Draco?"

The blonde nodded his head and allowed you to carefully and gently clean him up with a wet paper towel. It wasn't the lost romantic thing used to clean partners, but it was what you had.

After a few minutes of silence once you were cleaned and dressed you spoke up.

"So what.. Where are you doing by Gryffindor Tower, Blondie?" your hands ended up in your pockets again.

"Well I.." The pureblood reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out an envelope. "I was going to..."

"Draco, babe. I saw your 'o' face. Just tell me. You shouldn't be embarrassed." You snickered, obviously teasing the younger man.

He took in a deep breath and shoved the letter toward you.

"IwroteyoualetterexplaininghowIfeltaboutyouandhowIwassorryforhowItreatedyoursister-" he was going way too fast for you to understand anything.

"What? I can't.. I don't speak whatever this is."

"I.. Just read the letter!"

With that, you tore open the envelope. It was the love letter Draco was gonna leave by your bedside table.

The letter stated how he fell in love with you from a far over the years by watching you dominate in Quidditch, bringing light into the world with the Twins (let's be honest, imma throw them in this) and just.. Being you. Plus bickering with you was one of his favorite pastimes.

It also stated how he was sorry for treating Hermione so poorly and the citation with his dad and how he was raised.

The Slytherin was nervously wringing his hands together, a nervous expression on his face. "Umm.. Are.. You gonna say something?" his mental fingers were crossed.

You smiled, tilting your head a little bit.

"You're an idiot." You pulled him into a gentle kiss, your hand entangling with his. You casted him a genuine smile. "I like you too, Draco."

The blonde's face broke out in a matching grin and he all but jumped on you to give you another kiss. Once the two of you broke apart, your voice echoed in the bathroom once again.

"There's only one problem."

"What is it?"

"How do we tell Hermione?"

[ayellowcurtain]

I can be your lover

Part 7

Robbe knows Sander is staring, finding the awkwardness between them funny and not gut wrenching like he is. And Robbe is happy to be around Sander too but the guilt is still in the back of his mind.

It’s a nice surprise that Sander doesn’t hold anything he did or said against him. It helps with all the other bad feelings he’s trying to subside, to pile in the back of his brain, trying to make them smaller and smaller so he can focus on what’s happening now. Sander being chill with him, so much so that it feels like he’s making fun of them for being quiet and awkward.

“You went back to the bleached hair…” Robbe tests the waters himself, wanting to know how chill Sander really is. Because he’s amazing at keeping a straight face but Robbe knows he’ll feel in his words and his tone if he’s being nice just to be nice.

Sander nods his head, drinking his beer, his eyes still never leaving Robbe’s. He’s so comfortable and relaxed, leaning against the old and fancy back porch rail, acting like they haven’t just spent years with no contact because Robbe was rude and sabotaged their first attempt of a relationship. It feels nice, the best feeling, honestly, but Robbe can’t forget as easily about the last few times they talked before this.

“I did. As another part of this...restart again.”

Robbe laughs, leaning against the side wall next to him so he can stare back at Sander and stand on his shaky legs.

“How was it? Moving back, I mean…”

Sander shrugs, looking at the view from Noor’s balcony, “I think it’s a lot easier when you’re moving with no intention of doing it again any time soon.”

“Are you staying with your parents?”

Sander looks at him and he doesn’t have to say it, Robbe knows it’s not Sander’s favorite thing to do: go back to living with his parents. They’re lovely but they’re also overprotective and Sander has very little patience after so many years dealing with it daily.

“Yes.” He grunts. “Hopefully for just a few days.”

Robbe exhales shakingly, not sure if it’s because he’s a little cold after drinking freezing cold beers or because of this conversation, face to face with Sander, “Are you looking for a place already?”

Sander nods his head again, leaning against the rail behind him again, putting his beer on the floor next to his feet.

“You wanna see some apartments with me?”

Robbe feels a heat wave rush up through his entire body right away with the implications of that, even though he knows Sander is just making a joke again, loving to make Robbe feel all types of embarrassment and fondness at the same time. Robbe daydreams for a second about seeing a bunch of apartments with Sander, thinking about how they would decorate each one, how it fits for their lives and routines, even their serious conversations about how they would pay their bills would make Robbe excited. He gently rubs his fingers against each other, no bruises or skin asking to be peeled.

That’s how it always was between them: Sander likes to tease Robbe in any way he can because he knows Robbe gets both shy and more in love when Sander is being weird.

“No…”

“I think it would be fun.” Sander snorts, smiling like Robbe hasn’t hurt him constantly for the past few years, “I mean it, Robbe. I’ll behave myself.”

“Says the one that couldn’t keep his hands to himself if we dared to be shirtless around each other by accident, or took a shower together.” Robbe teases right back, knowing he’ll lose if he plays the teasing game with Sander.

“But that’s not fair, c’mon! You’re talking about us being horny teenagers and half naked or completely naked around each other. There’s no chance of behaving in those scenarios.”

They laugh it off, looking at each other until it fades out back to silence, staying quiet for some time, looking at each other, surprisingly keeping their distance and the light, playful conversation. The pile Robbe was trying to minimize is completely gone now.

“Are you missing your old life already?” Robbe puts his head to the side against the wall and he notices Sander losing his focus, staring down at his exposed neck before meeting Robbe’s eyes again.

“No. Not really. I just got here so maybe it’ll happen later. But I’m happy to be home, even if living with my parents for a second.” Sander looks down, smiling to his thoughts, and up again, suddenly with those puppy eyes with a hint of cockiness if Robbe can stare long enough to find it, “And are you happy that I’m home?”

“Yeah…” Robbe takes a deep breath in, filling his lungs to the maximum “I’m sorry for making your life a mess the past few years. But yes, I’m selfishly happy that you’re home. It doesn’t mean anything, of course…”

“It can…” Sander says just above a whisper, in that challenging way he can use whenever he wants that something to happen. It’s hard to have a normal conversation with someone you’re clearly still very much in love with. Robbe knows him too well not to notice these changes in his gaze, in his tone and he’s still able to understand what each of them means.

“I see you came to this party just to make my life more difficult...”

Sander sighs, grabbing his beer from the floor to finish it at once, licking his lips, putting the empty bottle back on the floor. He shakes his head slowly, as if even he isn’t sure himself of his negative movement.

“You think I’m too hurt to give us a second chance and that you don’t deserve it if I do. And you feel bad that you’re the main reason why we spent the past long years apart. You were always the overthinker and that’s okay. I was always the one that only cared about us, fuck the rest. And that’s okay. We’re different people, you not being able to make a life changing decision so quickly doesn’t make you a bad person. Me still desperately wanting you back after everything doesn’t make me weak for a bad person.”

Robbe swallows the little saliva he has in his mouth, slowly trying to digest all the hard truths that were just said, put out like it was nothing when it felt like the heaviest weight on his shoulders for all these years. Sander is not wrong but hearing him say it so blunty, a very Sander way of doing things if Robbe can say so himself, makes everything feel a lot more real - and meaningless compared to the thunder storm Robbe had in his mind whenever he thought about it privately - and it’s easier for Robbe to fully comprehend when someone explains it to him by their point of view.

“It wasn’t fair to keep you in the middle while I was...struggling mentally all over again.”

“It really wasn’t fair for you to not give me a choice but I get it in a way. It’s not the same but if I was brave enough I wouldn’t want you around when I have an episode. But I’m too attached to ask you to ever leave me alone like you did with me.” Sander exhales, smiling at him, “Now that we got that out of our way, can we leave?”

Robbe laughs, in shock, opening and closing his mouth, wanting nothing more than to leave with Sander. But he’s sure everyone is watching them from the inside, wanting to know what’s going on. The second they get inside and go straight to the front door, he knows his friends will tease them about it. Every time they stop talking, Robbe can almost be sure that the music inside is a little too low for a party.

And it still feels uncertain, how they’ll feel about this once they’re awake tomorrow, thinking more clearly, the adrenaline of finally seeing each other and fixing what they can of their problems out of their system after a good night of sleep and hours to get rid of all the alcohol they drank.

“Yes.” He exhales like he’s been holding his breath since Sander left in that plane years ago. Even if he’s scared, his brain doesn’t seem to give him any other option because why would he say no to running away with Sander?

Sander grabs the bottle from the floor and Robbe pushes himself to stand up properly, turning around to push the glass door open, hearing the soft music playing inside quickly embrace them too - definitely too low for a party - and he can only hope the balcony door has a level of soundproofing. He can’t look at anyone in the eyes so he makes a bee line to the front door with no excuse in mind, hoping Sander is following him.

He can’t hear a single comment or a laugh but he can feel the anticipation of everyone noticing how they are already leaving, and together, and he laughs under his breath, rushing past the door, closing it behind him, waiting outside, not even sure at this point if this was what he was supposed to do.

Sander appears after a long, nerve wracking minute, closing the door behind him, smiling at Robbe.

“Did they say anything?” Robbe asks, feeling dumb for staying outside even if just for another second. Anyone can come out and make fun of them.

“Noor came with me to the door. She was staring and not saying a word and they were laughing. I’m pretty sure some advice was whispered but I wasn’t paying that much attention to take notes. You want me to go back inside and check…?” He points back, threatening to go back inside and Robbe holds the sleeve of his jacket.

“No!”

Sander laughs and Robbe shakes his head, blushing, rushing downstairs, finally. It does feel like an escape, makes his heart beat fast and he laughs when he hears Sander’s snort echoing around the building.

He holds the massive front door open for Sander and they start walking home. They know where they’re going and to do what but Robbe can't bring himself to kiss Sander on the street like he so badly wants to do it.

“Use condoms, you dirty boys!” Moyo screams, half his body out from the apartment window and Milan appears too.

“And lube! Lube, Robbe!”

“Will do.” Sander doesn’t scream back, but answers anyway, loud enough for anyone on the sidewalk level to hear, showing his thumb up to the boys that wave back to them and blow kisses.

“That wasn’t embarrassing.” Robbe smiles, looking around them, a little more at peace when he doesn’t find anyone on the street or looking at them from any window.

“It could be worse.”

“How, exactly?”

“They could be coming with us to buy those things…” Robbe laughs because that would really be a lot, a lot worse.

Robbe bites his bottom lip, walking sideways to look at Sander.

“So you don’t have condoms...or lube…?” He frowns, very ashamed to be asking.

“I didn’t want to assume anything coming here tonight.”

“Good. Right. You’re right.”

“Thank you.” Robbe is still thinking about them, stopping to buy condoms and lube on their way home, when he feels Sander’s hand going from one of his shoulders to the other one, finally hugging him, pulling Robbe to face him, walking back, hoping Sander is looking at where they are going.

“Fuck, I miss you, Robbe.”

“I miss you too.” Robbe feels their hearts beating almost just as fast and as loud against each other, and he puts his arms around Sander’s waist inside his jacket, pressing them closer, looking up in a quiet way to ask for a kiss, “I can’t believe you’re home.”

[passivenovember]

Ice Machine.

Harringrove April, Day Fifteen : Sun.

--

Two years before Dawn is born on a rainy Tuesday in March, Billie Joe Sinclair makes contact on the hottest day of summer, like a burst of cosmic energy. 

Humid, bright. 

A fallen star somehow searing through the fabric of a fuzzy pink hospital blanket when the nurse admits they’re all out of blue. 

Billy chokes on a glob of spit when the baby starts making noise. The kid’s so tiny, so cute, like a little old man--

“Stop crying now, dumbass.” Max says fondly. “Be cool.”

“I am cool.”

“Yeah, okay.” She readjusts the baby blanket, grinning. “You haven’t stopped whimpering since the first contraction, cool older brother.”

Billy hadn’t even realized--

He scrubs at his cheeks. “I was crying?”

“Was. Are. You were zero help.” She bounces the meatloaf sized bundle against her chest, drawing away when Billy somehow teleports closer to the edge of the bed. 

Max raises her eyebrows. “You wanna hold him?”

Billy guesses, through. 

A cloud of haze and fear, that. 

“Yeah.” He holds out his hands. “Give him to me.”

“I’m sorry? Give him to me?”

“Yeah.”

“This fucking guy.” Max grumbles, shaking her head. “Give him to me,’ he says. I just got the kid.”

“Well, you’re hogging him.”

She stares blankly, for. As long as it takes for steam to start pouring out her ears. “Fourteen hours pushing a watermelon through a keyhole, and you wanna fucking--”

Billy gags, suddenly lightheaded for the six hundredth time in the last hour. Max ignores him. Catastrophically unsympathetic to the dude who attended all those birthing classes, letting Max hold his hand in public and shit, all in preparation for Lucas being out of town. 

The things Billy saw in this delivery room.

He deserves some kind of award. 

But Max isn’t done. “Do you have any idea what labor feels like? My ribs were seriously breaking, you fucking--”

“Actually, they seriously weren’t.” Billy pulls up a chair, knowing that despite a fourteen hour labor and five hour delivery, this is going to take a while. Maybe even longer. “Jesus, I thought motherhood was supposed to mellow chicks out, not turn them into a fuckin’ sailor’s dictionary.”

“If I wasn’t bead ridden I’d kick your ass, Harrington.” Max snarls, but.

It’s fond. 

Aggressive, and hostile, and so fond. Their exact brand of love. 

“Watch your mouth, Maxine.”  Billy grins, pointing to the baby, like, “Kid’s already learned all the swear words he’ll need for the first, what, year of life?”

“You’re such a--”

“Let me hold him.” Billy says. Reasonable, clam. “If only to protect his innocence.”

Max shakes her head. “I’ve earned the right to hold my son for fucking ever if I want to.” 

Billy gasps. “Not letting the baby meet his dad as the result of a personal vendetta against me? That’s real nice--”

“Oh, fuck off. Why don’t you go throw up again, tough guy?” 

They continue on like that, poking at old bruises and creating new ones, not realizing when the door opens and nurse walks in with a shoddy brown clipboard.

She asks for a name. 

At which Max, laughing now, stalls. Her pale, sweaty forehead wrinkles and she blinks. Squeezing her eyes shut and opening them again, as if waiting for the name to come to her. 

“I don’t.” She says softly. “We never decided on one?”

Billy starts, leaning forward sharply. “You never decided?”

“No.”

“Well what the fuck--” The nurse makes a noise in the back of her throat and Billy holds out a hand. “Sorry, Heck. Were you doing this whole time?”

Max leans back against the pillow, frowning. “Who knows? Painting the nursery something gender neutral? Accepting unsolicited advice? Panicking.”

The baby starts fussing again and Max rocks him slower, humming under her breath as if posessed. 

Every good mother in history rolled into one.

Billy’s sister is a mom now, and.

He realizes, for the first time, how tired she looks. Absolutely exhausted, like the last ten months have taken everything from her and she only just now got it back, with the cry of a newborn baby. 

So he stands.

Wipes his hands on the ass of his jeans, like, “I got it.”

To which Max, nodding off now, snorts. “Oh, you got it?” She struggles off the pillow, wincing at something painful in her gut. “How do I know I can trust you?”

Billy would be lying if he said it doesn’t sting. “Ow.”

“No, I mean like. How do I know you aren’t going to name our baby something stupid? Like Metallica, or Camaro, or Steve--”

“Max, I would never, and you can quote me on this--” Billy leans forward, pushing the hair out of her face. “Name your baby Steve.”

She laughs. 

He takes in the sight of Max and her baby. The two of them together. “Let me do this for you, kid.”

She stares into his face, eyebrows pinched together, for what feels like an eternity. “Okay,” She mutters. “I’m trusting you to pick something good.”

Billy follows the nurse out of the room. “I will.”

“Nothing too manly.”

“Alright.”

“And nothing too girly either.” She calls. “Something gender--”

The door slams shut and Billy.

Can’t think of a single name. The nurse stares at him expectantly, clearly irritated that it took this long for an answer, and demands, “Alright, gorgeous, what’s the kids name?”

Billy can count the times he’s thought about this on one finger. 

All the names the can think of don’t sound right, so. He decides to stick with the basics. The tried and true. 

“Can I name him after someone we already know?”

The nurse blinks. “Kid, you could name him Salami for all I care, I just want to take my lunch break.”

“Alright, okay. Gimmie a second.”

Billy scrubs a hand across his face. There’s only room for one Steve in his life. Just like there’s only room for one Max, one Lucas, but.

He. Himself. 

That’s a horse of a different color.

“Billie.” He says. “With an i.e.”

The nurse squints at him. “Isn’t that your name?”

“Yeah. Uh. Add a Joe in there. Billie Joe Sinclair.”

Billy’s flying by the seat of his pants on this one.

The nurse catches him right away. “Isn’t that the name of that punk rocker?” And she says it, like. She’s got some sort of stake in this. Like naming your kid after someone who bleaches their hair is some cardinal sin.

Billy doesn’t have time for this. “My sister loves that band.”

“Yeah, but. Enough to name her first born son--”

“Alright, Salami it is.” He cocks an eyebrow, and a hip for good measure. “Salami Joe Sinclair, our mother will be thrilled--”

“Little Billie Joe does have a ring to it.”

“Joey for short.”

The nurse smiles at him. “Joey for short.”

--

Max takes it better than he thought she would. “It’s kinda cool.” She says, grinning. “Well. Slip of the tongue.”

“What?”

“B.J.” Max shrugs, like, “He’ll have one hell of a time with that in middle school.”

“Yeah. I’ll be there to protect him.”

Max calls him a sap and Billy leans back in the chair, fallin heavy with exhaustion just as the sun rises on a new day.

Dawn breaking, clear and bright.

When the baby starts fussing Max stares into his wrinkled, chubby face, like. “I’m not rewarding this behavior or encouraging it.” and the kid calms right down, just from the sound of her voice. 

So his sister’s a mom.

Huh.

Billy thinks it suits her.

[fredweesleyismyslut]

Class Has Started - Weasley Twins x reader smut

A/N:  Sorry it took me so long to get to this.  I finally finished my exams for summer classes and actually did quite decent so yayyy!!  Anyways, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it while singing along to BTS and jpop songs at the top of my lungs haha.  Bye!!!

You were left to go to Hogwarts alone, well you still had your friends, but your boyfriends had gone.  During Umbridge’s tyranny, they had a grand exit which you along with the other students celebrated.  The look on Umbridge’s face, you wish you had your camera with you right then, the utter horror of what the twins had done left her stunned. Well, for a good minute before she started yelling at everyone again.  Now it was your last year and Umbridge was gone, everything was back to normal, as normal as it could be the looming knowledge that he-who-must-not-be-named was coming back.  The twins had opened up the joke shop that they had always dreamed of and it was very popular, you were incredibly proud of them, the loves of your life.  You were shopping for your new items along with Ginny, whom you had gotten incredibly close to since you spent most of the summer at the Weasley’s.  You saw her give Harry a quick glance as you whispered in her ear, “Keep staring and his hair might catch on fire.”  Face reddening the color of her hair, she slapped your arm softly, as you chuckled.  You walked into the joke shop, watching as items buzzed around, children running around to buy things.  A finger poked your shoulder, thinking it was one of the twins you turned, smiling brightly.  Instead, you were met with a face you were vaguely familiar with, a Ravenclaw boy you had classes with the year before, his name was...Jack...no Jeff?  Well, Jack/Jeff or whatever, smiled brightly as he gave you a very obvious once over, focusing on your chest.  Rolling your eyes softly you politely asked, “Can I help you with something?”  He nodded before answering, “I was wondering….Well, maybe you’d like to go out sometime….maybe tomorrow?”  Scoffing slightly, you replied, “Sorry, I’m going out with my friend tomorrow.”  you replied, motioning towards Ginny.  His face darkened slightly, “I’m sure you’d have a lot more fun with me than those Weasleys.  I mean, what can they give you...hand me down towels?”  You scowled softly, before putting on a smile as sweet as you could, “Well, I’m sure I will have an infinite amount more fun with her than you.  I mean, heck I’d have even more fun with a slug than you.”  You gave a quick once over, as you continued, “And since I’m not in the act of giving out charity, I’ll kindly decline hanging out with you before I kindly put my fist in your face.”  Grabbing his chin you whispered, “Talk shit about my friends again and I promise I won’t be so nice next time.  Now run along.”  He scowled, “Whatever, you’re not that hot anyways.  Little too round for me”  

Rolling your eyes you ignored the comment and walked off before quickly bumping into two broad chests.  “Hey beautiful.” a voice said as an arm draped around your waist, you looked up see your favorite Weasleys, who were both sporting frowns.  Fred continued, “We were about to butt in but you handled that very nicely, sweetheart.”  You blushed softly, “Well, I can’t always depend on you two...especially since you won’t be-”  George cut in, “You know we’ll be around, y/n especially if dickwads like that wanna hang around you.  But we really are genuinely sorry for doing that without telling you, we just didn’t want to drag you into it.”  He offered a soft smile as his finger traced your jaw, “We know how much finishing school means to you, and we would never want to drag you down with us, bunny.”  Looking up into his eyes, you motioned around the place, “I think you guys made an upgrade if I say so, should’ve dragged me in, I could’ve been your receptionist or something.”  They both chuckled as Fred considered thoughtfully, “Hmmmm...I mean if it’s an opportunity to see you in a sexy pencil skirt-”  You elbowed Fred’s stomach, “In your dreams, Weasley”, lowering your voice to a whisper, “And if you wanted to see me in a pencil skirt all you have to do is ask, we could do some teacher-student…”  A red-faced Ron cleared his throat cutting you off, “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of that.  I might have to bleach my ears out later though, thanks y/n.”  The three of you collectively looked at each other as you laughed, as Fred said, “What’d you want, Ron?”  “How much for this?” he said holding something up, “Five galleons.”  the twins replied in unison.  “But I’m your brother.”  They both looked at each other before replying, “Ten galleons.”  You chuckled softly, as Ron scoffed before walking away.  “You two mess with him too much.  Oh, since we’re talking about Ron, I was going to take Ron and Ginny out for a little dessert date later.  Ginny wanted to try out that new shop down the street.”  The twins nodded as they smiled down at you, “That’d be nice.”  George replied, “It’s nice that you get along with them.  You know I’m pretty sure Ginny loves you more than us.”  You chuckled as Fred added, “Our own mother even had the audacity to say she wished you were her daughter instead of having us two.  I mean who would want to replace our genius minds.”  Laughing you replied, “I think the two of your IQs added together is less than 100, boy genius.”  Fred rolled his eyes as he stuck his tongue out at you, tipping onto your toes you licked his tongue.  A look of surprise crossed his face, “You violated me” he said, dramatically grasping his heart.  Sticking your tongue out, “Don’t put your tongue out then.  Anyways, see you two later, I have to finish up shopping.”  They nodded and before walking to find Ginny you walked back, kissing both their cheeks, “And congratulations on the shop.  I’m so proud, honestly...and if you two are good I have a surprise waiting tonight.”  Finishing with a wink, you found Ginny and walked out of the shop, continuing your journey to find school supplies.  

Later that evening, you had an owl fly by the joke shop with a letter, “Come over to my place for your present.”  Sweet and to the point, you lived near the Weasleys and your parents were gone for the night.  Once the sun had gone down you heard a doorbell ringing.  The twins had arrived at your door, George holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers.  “For me?!”  you asked, dramatically placing your hand on your forehead, “Thank you, but we’re celebrating you two.  Okay, so don’t upstage me in my present.”  Fred chuckled as he kissed your forehead, “I smell something delicious.”  Motioning to the kitchen, you smiled, “I made a cake, to celebrate.”  They practically drooled as they filed in, “We were starving, thank you, y/n.  I didn’t think it was possible to love you anymore but apparently it is.”  George nodded along, as he sat in the dining room.  As they were eating cake you excused yourself to the bathroom, pulling out a pencil skirt, tights, and tight button-up blouse, along with a fake pair of glasses.  Grabbing a pointer stick you slowly walked down the stairs you dramatically stopped at the front of the dining table, raising on leg up on a chair.  “Time for class to start.”  The twins’ jaws were dropping as they took you in before Fred stuttered out, “Y-Y/n.”  Softly tapping him with the stick you smiled, “It’s Miss.Y/n to you.  Finish your cake and we can really get this party started.”  You didn’t think it was possible for someone to shove a whole piece of cake in their mouth but the twins managed it as they gulped it down.  Fred jumped up from his seat as he threw you over his shoulder as he shushed your protests of being to heavy for him to carry, “What do you mean, you’re light as a feather.  You sure you’re eating?”  he continued, “You know you can’t do this to me, baby.  I can’t handle myself when you look like this.”  George followed in pursuit as you giggled.  

Fred practically threw you down on the bed before quickly going to remove your tights, ripping them off.  George settled behind you, hands skillfully unbuttoning your blouse, slowly letting it fall off your shoulders.  George ran his hands down your arms, shivers going down your spine as goosebumps arose.  He huskily whispered in your ear, “We should punish you for trying to be a tease.  I’ve been thinking about you all day.”  His hands ran down your chest before stopped beneath the curve of your breasts as his lips pressed kisses down your neck, biting and sucking.  Fred, on the other hand, was driving you crazy as his hands wandered up your legs, pressing kisses on the inside of your thighs, biting at the soft flesh.  A moan left your lips involuntarily, as Fred’s two fingers pressed against your core, as he pushed the material of your underwear aside.  “We haven’t even started and you’re already this wet, kitten.”  “Stop teasing…” you muttered out to both of them.  George whined softly, “Isn’t this our present?  We just want to enjoy it as long as we can.”  A short guttural whine arose as Fred continued to bite your thighs, fingers pinching your clit before pulling his hand away.  “Don’t be so impatient, y/n.  Good things come for those who wait.”  You whined even louder, needing to feel some sort of friction.  Chuckling he pushed the skirt up, “Do you see how hard you’ve got me?” he questioned.  You looked, his cock was practically begging to be let out from his pants.  You leaned forward, palming him through his pants, before unbuttoning them, swiftly pulling them down along with his briefs as you gulped greedily.  Wetting your lips, you pressed your lips around the tip of his cock, tasting the precum, as you took it whole.  Suppressing a gag as it hit the back of your throat you relaxed, breathing through your nose as Fred praised you,  “Good girl, taking my cock like that.”  You continued bobbing your head on his cock letting it hit the back of your throat as you felt George’s hand slide up your legs.  His fingers rubbed your sensitive clit as you moaned.  Feeling the wetness drip down your legs at George’s attention to your clit made your nerves flare up with sensitivity.  “So, wet for me,” he whispered in your ear, as you felt George’s cock press against your core before sliding in.  His hips thrust forcefully, as you almost lost balance.  The sound of skin smacking skin filled the room as George’s hips met the curve of your ass, as one of his slapped down.  Fred’s cock twitched in your mouth as he reached his high, licking up the side with shorter strokes you finished with taking him whole again and breathing through your nose, letting his hands take your hair as his hips thrust forward.  Fred’s breath hitched as he rode out his high, thick cum filling your mouth as he pulled out.  His finger cleaned away some that slipped from your lips as he smiled, “You took me so well, y/n.”  George’s thrusts seemed to get sloppier as his fingers reached around to give more attention to your already sensitive clit from all his attention earlier.  Moaning filled the room further as your walls squeezed around George’s cock as you felt a feeling of euphoria wash over, head slumping on the bed as you tried to catch your breath.  George thrust a few more times before stopping as you milked his cum out, as he gave a last couple sloppy thrusts before pulling out.  Cum slipped down your thighs along with the empty feeling as you both caught your breath.  George leaned forward pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Thank you for everything today, my love.”  Fred returned from the bathroom which he had retired to take a shower after finishing earlier, “Thank you, sweetheart.”  He ran a cloth over you, cleaning you off as he threw a second one at George, “I’m not cleaning you off, mate.”  “Didn’t ask you to.” George replied, with a hint of humor in his voice.  Fred leaned down, pushing hair away from your face and pressing kisses all over.  You laid down on the bed as George and Fred climbed in on either side, “Love you guys…”  Your eyes fluttered softly as you tried to stay awake, as you heard a reply in unison, “We love you too, y/n.”  Then, you heard the soft banter of the two redheads arguing over who was taking too much of the blanket before you shut your eyes soft smile on your lips, wondering how you got so lucky.

[raibebe]

Dive in deep to you

Genre: smut Words: 2.659 Prompt: Vampire Changkyun + “I’m no good for you but I can’t stay away” Warnings: blood, messy smut

A/N: This is not exactly the phrase you looked for but this is what I came up with one Saturday morning and wrote basically in one sitting. Big thank you to @min-inu​ for the moodboard! Let’s hope I fixed the post after tumblr ate all of it. 

Vampire: A living corpse that drinks blood of the living by biting their necks with long, pointed canine teeth to quench their never ending thirst.

“Fuck, Changkyun,” you groaned when he picked you up beneath your thighs with superhuman strength, his fingers surely bruising your thighs, and crashed your lips together in a kiss that was more tongue and spit than anything else. Your back roughly collided with the door of your apartment that you had just unlocked, knocking the breath out of you. “Sorry,” your lover said, burying his face in your neck so he could suck dark bruises onto the skin. You could feel his fangs rake over your skin just where your blood pulsated through your veins, making you shiver. But he never bit down, not in all the weeks you had hooked up; instead he left purple bruises next to the ones that were already fading, tearing a moan from your throat.

“Get us to the bedroom at least,” you spoke breathlessly when he started rutting against you like a horny teenager. “I could take you right here, no problem with that,” he argued, “Think about how deep I’d fuck you.” “Changkyun you’re not fucking me in the hallway,” you groaned, twisting your hands in his bleached hair to pull him from your neck to connect your lips again. When you broke the kiss, you were panting hard and Changkyun’s crimson eyes were blown wide, a small string of spit connecting your lips. “Bedroom. Now,” you demanded, kicking your feet against his backside. “Be nice or I’ll drop you,” he grumbled but followed your orders. The way to your bedroom was familiar to him after you had walked it countless times in the past weeks ever since you first hooked up with him after a drunken night out with your friends.

That night you didn’t even notice what kind of creature he was until he had you spread out beneath him and his ice-cold fingers had made you shiver. He had asked if you were scared of him and until this day you didn’t know why you told him that you weren’t. It must have been the alcohol coursing through your system that night but even after you had started to hook up in a somewhat sober state you still weren’t scared of him. Even when he looked at you from his crimson eyes and with elongated fangs, his control to hide his vampiristic features slipping, like he wanted to devour you, you were never scared that he would actually harm you.

“Why do you always close all doors?” Changkyun groaned, his vampric nature making it impossible for him to pass the threshold like that. You just giggled, twisting your body to open the door to your bedroom for him. “It’s nice to see that such a strong man like you still has his weaknesses even if it’s something simple like a closed door.” “How about you shut that smart mouth of yours,” he growled. “Try me,” you challenged him and he forcefully connected your lips again, wasting no time to lick into your mouth. You couldn’t help but feel proud that his control already seemed to slip, his fangs already sharpening.

He broke the bruising kiss to unceremoniously throw you down on your mattress, making you jump up and down a few times. “Impatient aren’t we?” You giggled. “I can smell you feel the same,” the vampire smirked, unbuttoning his silk blouse button after button, revealing the perfectly pale skin of his chest and abdomen. Throwing the garment off of his strong shoulders, he quickly popped the button of his jeans, slipping out of them. “Like what you see?” He grinned, shamelessly palming himself over the dark fabric of his briefs. “Yeah, but I’d rather have it right here,” you admitted, letting your legs fall open to expose your glistening core to him, fighting back the heat that crept into your face. Going commando beneath your short dress might have not been the smartest idea you had ever had, but the way your lover stopped mid stroke and went completely still was worth it.

Changkyun growled deep in his chest, a dark and threatening sound, reminding you that he still was a dangerous creature. Within the blink of an eye, he had grabbed the neckline of your dress and the next thing you heard was the sound of the fabric tearing when he ripped your dress neatly down the front to expose your body for him. “I liked that dress,” you gasped when the cold air of the room met your heated skin, making your nipples perk up. “I’ll buy you a new one,” the vampire promised, his crimson eyes fixed to your exposed boobs, “You haven’t been wearing any underwear this entire time?” “No,” you breathed, shivering beneath his smoldering gaze. “You’re so naughty,” he said before attaching his lips to one of your breasts, sucking and gently biting on the sensitive nub. A curse left your lips and you threaded your fingers into his bleached hair, arching your back into his touch. While one hand was massaging your other boob, he let his other hand trail down your body, leaving goosebumps in its way, before he dragged his finger through your folds, spreading the wetness that had leaked from your core. “You’re already so wet for me baby,” he rasped, “Did you miss me?” “You wish,” you gasped, trying to labor your breathing. A wide grin spread over Changkyun’s lips, your heartbeat was betraying your words. “One day I’ll get you to admit it,” he promised before he slowly sank a finger into you, making you gasp. “Another one,” you demanded. “Someone is impatient today,” he chuckled but followed your command, his fingers stretching your inner walls when he began to move them; always just barely grazing your sweet spot and driving you crazy all while he continued to suck marks all over your torso. “Please,” you gasped, moving your hips to meet his lazy thrusts. “You’re desperate already?” He chuckled, withdrawing his fingers to draw circles around your clit instead. Your legs instinctively tried to close around where he kneeled between your legs but he forced them back open, slapping the inside of your thigh. “Be good,” he grumbled, leaning down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss.

You couldn’t help yourself to moan into his mouth when he finally began to finger you in earnest, crooking his long fingers to stimulate your sweet spot in a way that made you see stars. No other lover you ever had could make you feel this way. But Changkyun had the advantage of time on his side and must have already slept with more women than you could probably count. The thought made a pang of jealously shoot through you but it was washed away just as quick as it came when he flicked his wrist just right, making your thighs tremble. You cursed again, throwing your head back and moaning unashamed. You could feel your orgasm building in your stomach but this wasn’t how you wanted to cum and the feeling of Changkyun’s hard cock rutting against your body made you dizzy with want. “Need you inside of me,” you whined. “Yeah? Are my fingers not enough for you? Need my cock to cum?” He teased you, dragging his fingers through the mess that you had made of yourself, spreading your wetness even further.

“Please,” you begged and that seemed to do the trick. The vampire growled again, quickly getting rid of his underwear, pumping his flushed cock a couple of times before he slapped it onto your core a couple of times, letting the lewd sound fill the quiet of the room. “Don’t tease me,” you whined, trying to close your legs around him to pull him closer but he wasn’t budging a single bit, watching the way his cock was slipping through your folds with ease, the head rubbing against your sensitive clit. “Changkyun please,” you whined again when the head of his cock had briefly slipped into your core but the vampire had immediately pulled back to grind against you again. “I love it when you beg for me,” he confessed, leaning down to capture your lips in a quick kiss, “One day I’ll teach you some patience.” “Not all of us have eternity to wait for some dick,” you grumbled, making him chuckle. “Alright my little pillow princess,” he grinned, “I shall not make my dearest wait any longer.”

“Oh, I love it when you talk like you’re from-“ The words of mockery were punched out of you when your lover thrust into you, bottoming out in one smooth motion thanks to how ridiculously turned on you were. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite get what you were saying,” he chuckled, grinding his cock deep inside of you with smooth movements from his hips while keeping your thighs in an iron grip so you couldn’t shy away. “Changkyun, I, fuck,” you stuttered, gripping a fistful of sheets to ground yourself. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” he whispered just like every time and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips that without fail made your heart skip a beat. You swore he must have heard it but chose to ignore it. “I can take it,” you promised, your gaze finding his dark crimson eyes.

“We’ll see about that,” he chuckled before pulling back his hips until only the head of his cock remained inside you before languidly sliding right back into you, letting you feel every inch of his length. “Fuck you’re so big,” you breathed when he repeated the motion, only barely picking up his pace. “You sure know how to flatter a man,” the vampire chuckled breathlessly, slowly rocking into you. “Please Changkyun, fuck me like you mean it,” you begged, hooking your legs behind his back to pull him closer. “Patience, dear,” he whispered, burying his cock inside you in one quick movement that punched all air from your lungs. “Is that what you want?” He asked, repeating the motion so your bodies collided in a lewd slapping noise. With every stroke you felt your brain cells leave your body, your world crumbling down until it only consisted of you and Changkyun. “I asked a question, sweetheart,” he repeated, snapping his hips to punctuate every word. “Please,” you whimpered, surprised by how wrecked you already sounded. “Oh baby, you’re too good for me,” he mused, tenderly cupping your face. You turned your head to kiss the inside of his wrist where his tattoo was fading yet again, his own body working to make the ink disappear. “Ruin me,” you whispered, looking straight into his crimson eyes. “With my greatest pleasure,” he replied, caging you against the mattress with his muscled body, your head bracketed between his arms.

This time when he pulled back his hips, he didn’t waste any time to thrust back right into you, setting a quick rhythm that had your head spinning. Moans after moans spilled from your lips that Changkyun eagerly swallowed with deep kisses. Only when he angled his hips differently and nailed your sweet spot, you had to part from his lips to get enough air into your lungs, your hands gripping his back tightly without your nails ever breaking the skin. But you knew he could feel them digging into his skin, tearing a growl from him. The pain only further spurred him on, pulling back further to fuck into you more vigorously, tearing broken mewls from your spit slicked lips and making you trash beneath him. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, not even a single bit out of breath before he nudged your head back again so mouth at your jaw and neck, pressing his tongue into the bruises he had left earlier, making sparks of pleasure shoot through you. When his fangs raked against your sensitive skin again, you swore you could feel the blood rushing just beneath the surface. “Please don’t stop, I’m so close” you moaned, desperately holding onto your lover, afraid you would just float away from all the pleasure clouding your mind. You felt his chuckle more than you could hear it and the way his fangs dragged across your skin made you lose your mind.

“Bite me,” you blurted out causing Changkyun to lose his rhythm. He stilled inside of you and you mewled in disappointment, your orgasm slipping out from beneath you. “Are you sure?” The vampire spoke into the skin of your neck. “Do it,” you panted, gripping his bleached strands of hair at the back of his neck, “I trust you.” A deep rumble resonated from his chest and he began to slowly move his hips again, dragging his length against your velvety walls and pressing it tightly against your sweet spot. “You’re too good for me,” he mumbled before dragging his teeth along the vein in your neck, “Relax.”

He ground down into you again, his public bone putting sweet pressure on your clit. Your moan of his name got stuck in your throat when you felt his teeth finally break your skin, the piercing pain shooting through your body. But as soon as you felt Changkyun swallow a mouthful of your blood, it seemed to vanish, being replaced by white, hot pleasure that seemed to course through you instead. It felt like he was exchanging your blood for the sweetest drug you had ever tasted. Your body was twisting and trashing beneath him, desperate to find your release. You didn’t even realize that he had stopped feeding from you when he started to almost erratically kicking his hips again, chasing his own high. “Come with me,” he groaned, fucking into you with abandon before his body went absolutely still and the most beautiful deep moan of your name spilled past his lips as he came deep inside you. That sight was enough to push you over the edge as well and you had to screw your eyes shut, millions of colors dancing behind your lids as your body shook through your orgasm, drenching the sheets beneath you in your release.

For a while both of you stayed still, coming down from your respective highs. While Changkyun was staring at you from blown eyes you had yours still shut, trying to take deep breaths to calm down your furiously beating heart and your shaking legs. “Careful,” he whispered when he pulled out his softening cock and you could feel how his release started to leak from your core. Without another word he pulled you into an embrace, lapping at the wound in your neck to coax it to stitch itself back together. “That was intense,” you laughed breathlessly when the vampire had pulled back again, trying to fix your messy mop of hair. “Thank you,” he spoke softly, pressing a kiss to the healed wound. “I feel like I should thank you,” you whispered, “That was the most intense orgasm I ever had in my entire life.”

Changkyun hummed and pulled you close to his unbeating heart. “Humans sometimes can feel great pleasure from letting a vampire feed on them.” “Why have you never done it before?” “You didn’t ask for it,” he simply said, “It doesn’t show good manners to just bite your lover.” You made an affirmative noise, cuddling closer to him, tangling your legs together, yet again noticing that he hadn’t even broken a sweat through all of this.

“We can’t keep hooking up like this, I’m not good for you,” he whispered into your hair after a while. “Stop saying that,” you murmured, “The heart wants what the heart wants.” “I don’t have a heart.” “You do, it’s just not beating anymore.” For a while the silence between you two stretched on, both of you lost in your own thoughts. “Hold me until I fall asleep?” You asked when you felt your eyes droop. “Sure,” Changkyun promised, tightening his strong arms around you, and somehow you didn’t even miss the warmth a body usually gave off.

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

on the topic of alastair apologizing... let's talk about the Academy. idk, here's my two cents.

EDIT: thank you to @alastairxcarstairs for pointing out that Alastair's hair was natural at the academy, not bleached. I have made a few edits in red! I don't think it changes the idea of my post too much, but it does raise some complications as something that we know has affected alastair deeply (vs a comment about his father & clive which were things he was already feeling and whose traumas to not lie in a comment made) and I think honestly might be one of the only ways for a reconciliation between the two of them, to recognize that they both used shitty ways that the world works against them to hurt each other deeply, and that wasn't right. (also can the two queer "icons" learn to not be racist please & thank)

this got... ridiculously long. I'm sorry. feel free to disagree with anything I've said, it's just my conclusions from what I've read an my own experiences. theres a lot of discussion of bullying, death, and alcoholism.

alastair really didn't say much to or about kit and thomas (except the rumor, which I'll get to in a second) at all. he called thomas names, but it wasn't something that ever really bothered thomas and I think that's probably because alastair never said them with malicious intent.

he said a lot of shit to and about james and his family, none of which james deserved. that's something he needs to atone for.

most of his bullying (except the rumor) with matthew was reciprocated. they both talked shit to and about each other. it doesn't cancel each other out in a way that means it never happened, but its not really something anyone has to atone for imo, just more of a "we both treated each other like shit and that was stupid, let's move on from it and not do it anymore."

the vetis demon... it was a prank. a cruel, scary, idiotic prank. it wasn't alastair's idea, but he went along with it and he helped. obviously it was something very distressing to james and matthew, but they're both fine. I'm not saying alastair should get a pass for it, but clive literally died. they were 14/15 and as someone who lost a classmate at that age, there's a weird sort of guilt about it, even when you had nothing to do with their death. alastair learned the consequences of his actions the hardest way possible, and I don't think people recognize that enough. we don't know much about clive at all. he acted like an asshole, sure, and he was definitely naive and arrogant (a vetis demon???) but we don't know how he treated alastair. was he kind to him behind closed doors? was he always cruel? did he bully alastair? we don't know. regardless, I'm positive that alastair has a lot of complicated feelings about it, and a fuck ton of guilt. because HE can be a better person. HE can apologize and move forward and travel the world and fall in love and get his heart broken and do all of the things that people do after they finish school, and clive never will. alastair learned his lesson, and james and matthew can be reasonably certain that he'd never try anything like that ever again. while he could certainly still apologize for it, I think thats something they can assume at this point without him saying it.

the second one was deliberate, matthew knew that alastair had already told him it was Clive's idea, but he WANTED to get until alastair's skin. he WANTED to make alastair hurt more. he was a child (they both were), and he was upset, and he wanted to make alastair hurt. and he did. alastair snapped.

and, finally, the rumor. the first thing to recognize is that alastair was in a bad place when he said that. he said that because he was in a bad place. all of those^ complicated feelings had just started (clive had literally just died) and to make matters worse, everyone's fathers had rushed to the Academy in wake of the incident except for Elias (thomas pointed this out). then matthew showed up. he started out by calling alastair names, fine, typical. then he said "Has no kind soul thought to inform you that your hairstyle is, to use the gentlest words available to me, ill-advised?..." strike one "...A friend? Your papa?" strike two. then he said "Though I cannot help but wonder whose idea their nasty little trick was" even though Alastair had already explained that it was Clive's idea and why, strike three.

the first one was just racist. maybe he didn't mean it to be, but we know that alastair was self conscious about his hair because of how dark his features are and how alienated he feels as a non-white boy.

the second one was an unfortunate coincidence imo. matthew had no idea what alastair was going through at home or that he was particularly upset about Elias that day because he'd been forced to watch all of the other boys with their fathers.

in matthew's eyes, what he said there SHOULD have been just another throwaway insult, but he was blinded by his privilege as a white boy with loving parents, and anyone who knows alastair's situation can see that it anything other than just a throwaway comment.

I'm explaining all of this not to excuse what alastair did but show how the rumor scene was atypical from his usual bullying. we haven't SEEN enough on paper to make that observation, but we can infer from all of this that that was not how alastair normally behaved. that was how alastair behaved when he was pushed over the edge, that's it.

while he said awful things about Thomas and his parents and Matthew's parents, he was never trying to hurt them, it likely didn't even cross his mind. he didn't start that rumor, and I doubt he even ever actually spread it. there's no evidence that he would be someone to spread rumors like that (something very speculative and secretive, vs something obvious and well-known like what he said about tessa), especially given the rumors around his own family. he only repeated it to matthew because he was pushed out of his limits. it's most likely that he heard the rumor, ignored it, and the ONLY time he has ever spoken it was to matthew that day.

he said it to hurt matthew. that was his only goal. that was his only motivation. he wanted to make matthew HURT. and he did. he really, really did. I think he could see it as soon as he said it. CC has said that he regretted what he said as soon as he said it. he hurt matthew in ways that can never be undone, and I think he knew that as soon as he said it because he has been hurt that way, too.

so, no, I don't think alastair actually owes thomas or sophie or gideon or charlotte or henry an apology for what he said beyond "I caused this person you love very much irreparable harm" because while he said awful things about them, he never did anything to actually hurt them (beyond hurt matthew).

to say that alastair owes matthew an apology... feels a little cheap to me. I don't think alastair will ever genuinely apologize to matthew solely because he doesn't think that what he's done could ever be forgiven. even if he were to become a fucking saint, even if he became the nicest, kindest, most giving man on earth, there is nothing he can say or do that can undo the pain he's caused.

what happened to charlotte and her baby is NOT alastair's fault, nor is matthew's alcoholism (because we could play the blame game all day then - because if it weren't for Elias would alastair have been pushed past his limits? is it his fault? if his alcoholism is because of his brother's death, was all of this just Yanluo's fault in actuality? but that was all in revenge for Wen Yu exterminating a nest of demons, so maybe it's her fault, then? it would never end, and that's not even TOUCHING mother hawthorn's involvement). matthew MUST be responsible for his own actions and choices.

but alastair caused a harm to matthew's psyche that can NEVER be erased. he will carry until the day he dies. alastair may have not intended to hurt him in such a profound was, but he did, and he knows it. he crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed.

this doesn't mean that alastair can't be redeemed or that he can't be a good brother-in-law to james and a good partner to thomas or a good person in general or even that him and matthew can't move past it and learn to tolerate each other. but in his eyes and matthew's, forgiveness is too weak of a concept for what he has done, and I doubt he will even ask for it.

[13tinysocks]

Mini Mart Massacre

Nine Jeff X Reader One shot (3206K words)

Content warning for graphic gore, murder, mentions of vomit.

You’re covering for your shitty coworker’s shift again. Late night, it’s slow. A mysterious man comes in and starts killing your friends left and right. Will you live to see the end of the night?

Nine Jeff belongs to @killersnarl / @carnalhaus

“God, I can’t believe him.” You grumbled to your co-worker, putting twenty-ounce cokes in their place. 

“I know right.” Ricky mindlessly agreed. Understandable after hearing this sort of frustrated dribble from you for the fifth time this week. But you just couldn’t let it go, Shaun was really starting to piss you off. Didn’t even have the courtesy to call out of work or even ask for you to cover his shift. He just didn’t show up. Hardly had been for the past two weeks but the past few days he’d nearly dropped off the face of the earth.

Gabe said he got a text from the deserter, with a smile he told you that Shaun was in love. Good for him but if he wanted to run off with some prince charming then he better quit first so your personal time wouldn’t continuously be uprooted. Money was cool and all, you needed it to live but having to constantly cover the guy’s ass was fucking awful. You’d always gotten a weird vibe from Shaun, quiet, reserved, always stared so creepily at other people. If you didn’t know any better then you’d think he knew something about you and everyone else. Something bad. 

“Dude,” Tara called from the aisle behind you, “He’s happy. Give it a rest.”

“Well, I’m not. It’s annoying. I was gonna watch trash TV tonight but no, I gotta close with y’all. No offense.” The shift really wasn’t as bad as you made it sound. All you had to do was stock up the frozen food section with Ricky, sweep, and go home in fifteen. Tara would take care of the shelving in the aisles as there were only three that were mostly full. The Mini Mart only got enough business to stay afloat after all. Out in front was Gabe, last you saw he was leaning on the register counter and smiling at his phone.

“Some taken.” She snickered, “Really though, can you just stop being such a player hater?” 

“Yea,” Gabe called from out front, “Makes you seem bitter.”

“I am not- Whatever.” You just wanted to get home already, didn’t wanna argue about stupid shit. You could foresee yourself being short with your friends for the next few days since they were so adamant about being on Shaun’s side.

Ding-dong!

The cheerful robotic bell alerted of an unwanted customer.  From your position in the back, you couldn’t see them. A hush fell over the store, the place was closed. Little red and white sign hanging from the front door's handle said so. Guess they didn’t read it.

You could have sworn the blue fluorescents overhead started to burn a little brighter, buzz a little louder. The familiar pale blue tint only grew more saturated, the air felt thick. Dust discordantly floating about in the blue otherworldly shine. Owners really had to buy themselves better lights because this shit happened like clockwork. Every hour on the hour for nine minutes. 

“Hey, sorry man,” Gabe started at the thing that cast a long shadow across the floor, “We’re closing up shop right now. You can come back tomorrow.” 

There was no booming footstep, no quiet approach. Just a normal everyday sound of someone walking. 

“Hey dude, seriously. We’re closed. Put that down.” Gabe’s voice started to waver, hints of apparent fear bleeding through his stern intonation. 

“Would you have if they could have pleaded?” Deep and raspy, there was something about the way that man spoke. Something that didn’t sound annoyed or defensive but paralyzing instead. You could feel it deep in your gut, on the hairs standing up the back of your neck, on the goosebumps that’d risen from your forearms; He meant harm. Bodily. Psychologically. 

“What?” Gabe scoffed, “Ya’know what? I don’t care. I’m calling the cops.”

“You like that they trusted you, that they never thought to fight back. You like to watch them die.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” Gabe bleated back. The footsteps didn’t stop. You and Ricky glanced confusedly worried at one another. 

He started to pull out his phone when the mystery intruder spoke once more, “Why are you backing away then? Is it because you don’t want to drink like a thirsty dog?” 

“I- WHAT!?” A screech ripped from the front of the store. Morbid curiosity pulled you to crawl toward the nearest aisle and peak around it. Tera was staring, frozen and shaking at the sight. 

“PUT THE ME THE FUCK DOWN! FUCKING SQUARE HEAD!”

That man, that thing, was huge. Tall, broad, imposing. Only his side profile was available for viewing. Mostly obscured by long black hair, most of which had been tied into a loose ponytail. Stern browed, nose downturned, teeth showing through a tight smile. One hand about Gabe’s neck was all it took to lift the fully grown man two feet off the floor. Thumb jammed in the soft flesh where his jaw and neck met, forcing his head back. Gabe wiggled about, holding onto the man’s thick forearm for some stability but he still looked like a fish on a hook.

“SOMEONE! HELP!” Bulging brown snapped to you and the woman. No way that you were going to play hero against that fucking behemoth. Still, there was a slew of emotions kicked up by seeing a friend in that position. 

The man held a fat bottle of Bleach. Mostly used to clean out the nasty bathroom, sometimes the floor. Uncapped, tilting toward Gabe’s face. Getting what was about to happen, he twisted his lips into his mouth.

“You don’t want it?” His attacker cooed, "Aren't you thirsty after a day of hard work?"

Gabe vigorously shook his head, whining and struggling. All the three of you could do was watch. Ricky was on the phone with an operator, hopefully, help would be arriving soon but none of you wanted to brave running out the front door he was only feet away from. 

A yellowish liquid dribbled over the bottle's opening, right onto Gabe’s wide open eyes. You don’t think you’d ever forget the shrill, animal-like way he screeched. Mouth open, the man took his opportunity to jam the opening between his teeth. Gabe’s body violently revolted against the product cleaning the mucus from his esophagus. Another fat hand slapped onto Gabe’s flesh, this one squeezing his lips around the neck of the bottle. Forcing him to keep in a reactionary stream of vomit. Not without thumb and pointer pinching his nostrils shut.

"Honestly," The man started evenly, "This is so much faster than diluting it with water." Gabe violently twitched, no longer holding onto his attacker's arm but instead trying to pry to bottle away from his mouth. Nothing he did had any effect. "Hurts worse too, huh?" 

You jolted, nearly letting out a shriek when someone tapped you on the shoulder. Ricky had crawled up behind you, phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. Head jerking in the direction of a gray door. Backroom, concrete floors, ceiling hight storage shelves, always smelled vaguely if cheese. 

You caught his drift easily enough but Tera wasn't looking at either of you. Completely entranced with the two in front. As much as you wanted to bolt, you had to get her attention and get her to leave. 

Calling her over would get unwanted attention. You held up a finger to Ricky, no minimum wage worker with no healthcare benefits left behind. 

Slow and steady you got yourself off the ground. Step by step, closer and closer. Hands raising to give her a little tap while your eyes didn't leave his face. With your approach, you only got to see more and more of his face. It was something of the likes you'd never seen. 

He looked like he didn't know what moisturizer was at first. Skin warped, texture looking uneven and off-color. But it wasn't a bad case of extreme and crust from not showering. His skin shone too little in the bright light. Flesh stretched and shifted when his lips curled back into a wider, toothy grin. With the movement the indent of irritated flesh running across either cheek shifted, top and bottom moving slightly different from the other as tectonic plates of scar tissue.

Beady eyes focused on Gabe, twinkling softly hateful. You couldn't tell if all he had was a pupil or if his irises were that pale.

Please, you internally begged, don't stop looking at that shuddering body.

One finger was all it took to place a gentle tap on Tera's shoulder. 

Gasp.

She jumped and turned, unfrozen and wide eyed. So did he.

The wicked wretch drawled, “Oh, hey you.” You didn’t think someone could smile that wide. “It’s nice to see you again.”

His dubiously friendly gaze locked Tera in place. You were pretty sure she was about to piss herself. All she had to say was, “Jeff.” Applying such a human title to that thing felt very, very wrong.

“I wanna say the one and only but ya’know, common name.” Jeff flatly joked.

“I- I- I haven’t done anything else. I swear. Please-”

Jeff wheezed, fully whipping around, Gabe’s body sickly swinging in his grip. “Come on now Tera. You don’t think I haven’t been checkin’ in you? You really do think you're clever.”

THUD.

Gabe’s body lay forgotten on the floor. Bottle finally rolling away from his open mouth but it was too late. Consciousness had already slipped and judging from how hollow the container sounded as it nonchalantly rolled away, he was gonna be dead soon.

“If it wasn’t for me he would have suffered for hours. Was it the guilt you felt with yourself? Was that why you didn’t kill that poor vagrant? Or are you that pathetic to the point where you try to kill an unmoving target and fail?”

You didn’t know what he was talking about. Either way, you wanted out of there. Since you didn’t want to be guilt ridden for the loss of another, you tightly gripped her and tugged. Her shoulder was like pulling on the start of a chainsaw, after you did so, things were set into violent motion. 

Jeff lurched forward, brandishing a hunting knife that'd been yanked from it's sheath. Survival instinct kicked in fully and you let go of Tera, bolting away from the ground-shaking behemoth. She just watched him come.

Nothing was like the sound she made when the knife buried itself in her soft belly. Her body crumpled in on itself. People compared a car crash to something they couldn't peel their eyes from but this was more like a burning, three lane pile up.

You’d completely forgotten about Ricky until he grabbed you by the forearm and screamed, “Come on!” 

Jeff’s head robotically snapped up to meet your eye as you were being dragged toward the storage room door. “Hey, wait up!”

“No!” You screeched, stumbling behind Rickey, “You sick fuck!”

He sighed, exasperated by your rejection, “Your friend and I are the same, you know. You'd be better off with me.” 

Romantic implications and the sound of someone groaning in agony were never the best combo. A taste sweet yet vile like milk a few days past it’s expiration settled over your tongue. You’d never felt so disgusted and you just wanted him to, “Go away!”

Whatever Jeff was doing to her sounded distinctly wet. Mac n’ cheese that squelched so loudly that it could be compared to good pussy. But when he came around the corner to give chase, you found that he’d rearranged her guts in the worst way possible.

Balled tight in his massive fists were slimy pink ribbons. Sticking out between his fingers, tightly pulled over his knuckles. All leading back to a fat slit in Tera’s belly. Screaming and sobbing, she clutched desperately onto her own small intestine to try to pull it back. Nothing worked and she continued to be dragged along the floor like a dog on a leash.

“No,” He wouldn’t stop smiling, “I don’t think I will.”

Ricky burst through the storage room door, you in tow. You’d been back here more than a few times but what you hadn’t done was load stock into the room. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen the doors before you sort of forgot in your piss-pants state of mortal terror. 

The shelves towered far over your head, compensating for the tiny space area. No sign of the exit was in immediate view. Ricky better hurry up and pick one of three possible paths or you’re dead meat.

If this was a badly directed horror movie, Ricky wouldn’t have known where to go. He hurriedly dragged you down a narrow pathway lined with half unpacked boxes. 

Tera and the backroom door screeched with Jeff’s entrance. His footsteps heavy and floor shaking. “The door's not going to work.” 

Ricky went to shove the door open with his side, it opened only half an inch. Again he rammed his body into the thing only for it not to budge. “Oh, no, no, no, no.” He kept at it while you looked for an odd lock or something obvious jamming the door. 

Tera finally stopped screaming. Passed out from shock, poor thing.

 The giant of a man cast a long shadow over the thin passage, backlit by pale blue. Giant hand relaxing, letting Tera’s stretched guts wetly flop onto the floor.

“There’s a way out for you, butcher.” Jeff spat out the title between grinding teeth. He was smiling so tender but his eyes didn’t reflect the sentiment.

“There is?” 

Wider. More teeth. “Look at you, hopeful little thing. Of course there is.” One step, slow, barely closing the distance. “An easy, free way out for someone who takes, and takes, and takes.” Two, three, four, faster. Knife bloody but not satiated.

You knew Ricky to steal chips from time to time but that's really it. 

Ricky quaked against the door. “No I- I donate to charities,” His eyes landed on the rosary idly hanging out of the pocket of his pants. “To the church! Thou shalt forgive or something, right?”

“Thou shall not kill.” 

“Yeah, that-”

“You haven’t been a very good boy, Ricky. God wouldn’t be happy with the bodies buried underneath your basement.” Five, six, seven.

You desperately looked around for something to defend yourself with. A pack of pudding cups within your immediate reach was snatched and thrown at the beast. “Shut the fuck up!”

Caught. “Thank you.”

Eight. Closing in. You pressed yourself into a corner and looked for an escape. There was none. All you had to cut him with was fear filled shouts, “That was meant to hit you, fucking hypocrite!”

Hand over his heart he sincerely sneered, “I am a hypocrite and I deserve to rot in hell. What does that change (Y/n)?” Morals did nothing for corpses.

Dread. Stone cold and heavy in your stomach. “You know my name?”

Jeff smiled fakely docile, “I know that you steal candy from isle two. I know that you’ve been working more hours lately.” 

All things Shaun would’ve known. Wait a second. “Are you Shaun’s boyfriend!? Did he send you to fucking kill us? I didn’t think we sucked that much dick!" You sobbed.

Jeff scratched the back of his neck, “Boyfriend is a strong word.” Ouch, poor Shaun.

The giant snapped back into his imposing demeanor, “I came to cleanse.”

Ricky quaked, “Okay, uh, fine, I can do forty-five Hail Mary’s! I can atone!” 

You didn’t understand. 

Nine.

Hot, heavy, chest heaving breaths wracked Jeff’s giant body. Icily staring down his prey/ Body so wide you didn’t have a hope of slithering passed. 

You don’t know how long you all stood in that tense limbo of inaction. Eventually, Jeff moved, slow and steady he tucked away his knife. It’s over. 

Ricky was off the ground in the blink of an eye. One of Jeff’s hand’s on either side of his head, thumbs pressing into his open eyes. Ricky kicked, screamed, and begged for mercy but judgment had already been decided.

Crraaaaccck!

Ricky’s head molded into Jeff’s fingers like cracking clay.

Yank!

Hot blood splashed onto your face, your work uniform, everywhere. Ricky wasn’t begging anymore. His voice box was ripped messily in half along with his head and upper torso. Pink and red squishy bits of gore started to slide out of place. Jeff toothily smiled at you from between the two foot gap in Ricky’s front teeth. 

Yank!

Ricky’s body flopped apart. One side hogged all his vertebrae, while the other had most of the brains.

Pleased, Jeff ran his tongue over his reddened lips. Loudly slurping as he sucked in an unidentified piece of gore. 

You vomited in your mouth, pounded your fists fruitlessly against the back door and sobbed. 

The two halves of human dropped from his hands. Landing with a sound like an egg breaking on tile floor. 

Jeff stepped over the body. You pressed yourself harder into the wall, hysterically shaking your head. 

His body heat radiated powerfully from his chest, few inches away at most. “You.”

Instead of playing the useless sole survivor, you decided to attempt to go with a fight. “Fuck off!” 

Your totally kick ass, defiant attempt to punch him in the face actually worked. He just took it. Didn’t stagger back or even yelp. Stare unbreaking.

“Eat shit!” Another punch. “Die!” Another.

The beast jerked forward with a throat-tearing roar, bloody hands coming straight for your face. You screwed your eyes shut and waited for a horrible death.

It never came. 

You popped an eyelid open to find him still as a statue. Hunched over, face so close you could smell the blood on his breath. He pinched your chin between his pointer and his thumb, tilting your head back and luring your eyes to meet his. Baby blue, sparkling with mischievous delight. 

Vile. 

You gathered all the spit you could and pelted him in the cheek with a soft slap. Clear-ish ooze dribbled down his skin, picking up a red hue as it went. 

Sirens distantly wailed. 

Jeff beamed almost affectionately at you, patted the top of your head, then kissed your forehead as you uselessly gnashed your teeth at him. “Be good.” Hands dragged off of your stained body with a sense of lingering desire, almost as if he didn’t want to leave the poor, broken, thing behind. Alas, the police were closing in and he couldn’t have you screeching like a banshee as he tried to get away. 

Mercy.

The wannabe angel began to lumber away. You didn’t hold your breath, waiting for the fake-out to end. He stopped. Here it comes. 

“Oh and (Y/n)?” Tender and kind he sounded like an old friend.

You raised shaking fists, “What?”

With one last lovely look, Jeff sweetly told you to, “Have a good night.”

Mental auto-pilot had you reply with a, “Thanks, you too.”

Nine steps and he was out of view. Three more and he was out the backroom door.

Traumatized, confused, out of friends, and caked in their blood you made a promise to yourself. Next time your paths would cross you’d have a better weapon than pudding cups.