#am i going to put lines from this song under every pairing i make? yes.

[doli-nemae]

Once a lass met a lass

"You're a gentle one" said she

"In my heart, I'd be glad

If you loved me for me"

- inspired by this cover "If You Love Me For Me" by Reinaeiry feat. Chloe Breez

[seababehh]

at the end of the day. || chris sturniolo x f!best friend!reader

Hi ya’ll!! I’m back. I finally got time to write - and I definitely am writing about chris this time. Because damn; this man could really suffocate me and I’d say thank you.

This is based off the song End of The Day by One Direction because let’s be honest, that song is a banger and is currently stuck in my brain.

-

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo x F!Best Friend Reader

Requested: Yes (send me more i love these ideas.)

Warnings: Angst, fluff all the good stuff. Chris being a jealous asshat, doesn’t know how to communicate. A lot of swearing and arguing! Crying! I made this heartachey because I felt like it. Sorry guys. but don’t worry, there’s some good stuff at the end, let me know if you want me to make it a part 2 with some smut. Best Friendsss to lovers Core!

——

I had awoken with sleep crusted eyes, my mouth dry and the light outside had proven it to be late afternoon. My eyelids themselves were puffy from lack of sleep, and I groaned as I dragged a hand over my face. It was the day I was supposed to hang out with my best friends -Matt, Nick and Chris. They had just gotten back from tour, and we decided today was the day we celebrated Chris for winning the tour and the boys other accomplishments.

I rubbed my eyes, rolling over the side of my bed and grabbing my phone. I replied to a few messages - letting them go through and making my way to the bathroom. Something felt different about today, my body couldn’t decide if it was a good different or bad different. I shook my head - wondering into the shower. I turned the tap on, letting the hot water run and steam up the room.

While under the hot stream of water, I had let my thoughts run as fast as the droplets against my skin. As usual, every individual thought that entered my brain had always landed back to Chris. My sweet boy, he was honestly my world, my best friend, my everything. That’s what they were supposed to be when you were in love with someone right?

Wrong, because it was only me who had this thoughts. This horrible feeling crept up from my chest, knowing I’m only hurting myself by being hopelessly in love with someone who would never love me back.The feeling pained, like an extreme pressure was put on my chest and I was about to combust. I sighed, holding my hands up against my chest and leaned against the wall as my hair began to stick to my body.

—

“(Y/n)!” I heard the familiar voice scream as I walked up the driveway to the Sturniolo Household. Chris had whipped open the door, immediately running over to me with his arms wide and open. I looked at his fluffy hair bouncing under his beanie, the blue eyes that just made me want to scream and that wide grin that was so infectious it started to make mine widen. That familiar ugly feeling of heartbreak had crawled back into my chest, but I squashed it down as I opened up my arms for a welcoming hug.

Chris had picked up up by the waist, spinning me around as I held onto his shoulders for dear life. I shoved my have in between his neck and shoulders and somehow my arm as my legs began to swim out behind me. “Chris!” I mumbled into the skin, the vibration of my voice obviously sending a tickling sensation down his neck, causing him to loose balance. My eyes widened as we toppled to the grass beside us, a loud laugh leaving both our mouths as we looked at each other. We landed on our backs, breathless but happy. “I missed you.” He said, looking at me with those blue eyes, a pinkie reaching to touch mine as we laid on the grass. This is always what it was, the sweet comments, the flirty looks, the soft touches. Sometimes I had a hope that maybe something was reciprocated.

We danced on that line many times - everyone always assuming that we were just supposed to be together. I had a glimmer of hope appear, looking at his gorgeous face. His smile never left as he huffed against the floor. That horrible feeling came back, and before I could hurt myself anymore I looked up at the sky before jumping up and offering him my hand. “C’mon pretty boy, don’t get all sappy on me now.”

Deny, avoid, leave it. He’s not yours. Those are the words that repeated through my head

He smiled at me with a slight tinge on his cheeks, placing his hand in mind and shoving me slightly, racing to the door.

-

We were all in the study slash office room of the house where we were all hanging out. Matt had sat on the chairs with Nick, shouting and screaming at the game they were playing while Chris and I were watching tiktok’s off my phone on the couch. I had sat next to him, leaning into his side with my legs folded over his and his arm behind me on the couch.

I started laughing at one of the videos that had come up on my for you page, looking up to see if Chris had watched it. He smiled down at me, and it almost made me winded. I hadn’t realized we were so close, and I tried to get my breathing back to normal. He had played with the ends of my hair as we watched, my face burning from the closeness.

I scrolled, an edit of Chris had come up, and without thinking I automatically liked it. “Did you just like the edit of me?” He whispered in my ear, making me shriek in surprise. I almost threw my phone, “I have no idea what you are talking about!” I laughed, trying to block his view from the phone. He struggled over me and quickly took my phone from my grasp. I screamed, climbing back over him to reach for my phone. I had eventually laid myself flat on my stomach across Chris’s lap, and I felt the blush worsen. His hand rested casually on my lower back; dangerously close to my ass. He casually dipped his hand onto the skin under my hoodie and started tracing circles with his fingers. I put my face in my hands and groaned, knowing now that he was comfortable - he was not going to let me move.

-

Eventually - after a few hours of lounging around the living room with the triplets, Nick had the idea that we should go out and actually celebrate. There was an influencer party that we had all been invited too - the only problem being I was in a Fresh Love hoodie and some leggings. “Nick, I don’t know about you but i’m not going like this.” I laughed. I was squeezed between Matt and Chris; my legs over Chris’s and a pillow lodged between Matt and I. Matt smiled over at me, “But dressing like a hobo is the new in, don’t you know?” I rolled my eyes, slapping his arm as we all laughed.

“Why don’t you guys get ready, i’ll go home quick and change and then you guys can fetch me since you coming past me anyway?” I stood up from the couch, Chris quickly following with a friendly pinch on the bottom of my thigh as he stood up.

I blushed at the contact. I waved by to his two clones and Chris followed me out the door. I climbed into the drivers seat of my car, leaving the door open as he decided to invade my space. He stood against the door, crouching down to talk to me properly. “What are you planning on wearing tonight ma?” He smiled, a ghost of a smirk on his face. He reached up and pushed my hair out my face and behind my ear, causing my skin to flush. “You’ll see later - now shoo! I need to go.” I pushed him away and he laughed, leaning down and kissing my cheek before closing my door for me.

I almost wanted to break out and scream - it’s me! I’ve wanted to kiss you since we were 16! Can you fucking see me dying right now! As I watched him stand and look at my car driving away.

-

I stood in front of the mirror at the corner of the bedroom, adjusting my outfit as it clings to my body. I had black leather pants on, and a dark burgundy lace halter neck as a top. I had my white platform converse tied with cute bows on my feet and my hair was cascading down my back.

I felt cute, and I also knew I felt good enough to get drunk tonight. My thoughts, once again, had reverted back to Chris. I wondered what was he wearing tonight, no doubt he’d look as good as always. I applied the last of my lipgloss on, before hearing hooting outside. I heard the holler of Nicks voice before I even got to my door. I laughed, locking with my keys and heading over to the backseat of the minivan.

“Hey guys,” I said with a smile, climbing in. Nick immediately hugged my from my side, making me laugh and complain about my hair. Matt had smiled at me from the rear view mirror and Chris had turned almost 180 degrees in his seat to make some noise. I smiled, ignoring the guilty feeling of loving the boy and letting it stay at the house as we drove away.

—

By 11, the party was probably at its peak. There were people everywhere, and for it being such a fancy apartment, the feeling was undeniable. Nick and I had chased a few shots, while Matt had stalked off and started talking to a few others of our friends. Nick and I had made our way to the kitchen, his hands stuffed in a bag of AirPopped popcorn while I had sat on the kitchen counter. My palms gripped the edge, while my legs swung out under me, my gaze zoned in on Chris. He had a pretty girl next to him - the body language far too intimate for it to be merely platonic. He leaned against the wall, but the little woman’s body had turned to face him completely.

Once again, that ugly feeling was back as I watched them - not ashamed at the stare. No, I wasn’t ashamed, because I’m almost 99% sure he knew what he was doing. He knew we played that game, he knew it. His blue gaze flickered to mine- and instead of looking away he gave me a smug smirk. I felt that little piece of heart in my chest crack. I forced myself to look away.

“Girl, I thought you were getting Mr World Wide Drunk with me tonight - not Lana Del Ray drunk.” Nick complained from my side as he saw the sour look on my face. I pointed at him with the almost empty red cup in my hand. “You-.” I chugged the rest of my drink, slamming it down on the marble kitchen counter next to me. “- are so fucking right! I need a new drink and then let’s go dance.” I hopped down from the counter, reaching over and creating a new concoction to force down my throat. Nick cheered, “Make me one too!”

After about 2 more drinks, Nick and I had made it to the dance floor. The song End of The Day by One Direction had come on- and I started screaming the lyrics. Sure, they were slurred - however I had seen Chris in my field of view on the dance floor; the girl with a tiny hot pink dress following him like a lost puppy. Nick had grabbed my hand - screaming the lyrics with me.

“All I know at the end of the day, is you love who you love, there ain’t no other way!”

As I was shouting the lyrics with the rest of the crowd, I locked in on Chris. It almost felt like time had stopped; and the background was blurring with all the people around me. The look on his face was indifferent. This was one thing that I loved and hated about the man, he was everywhere. That I could always rely on, but at the same time I couldn’t escape him. He was watching me, and suddenly the world started spinning a little too much. When I realized it was another man who had pulled me into his arms to dance, I smiled. He greeted me politely, and even had polite hand movements as he pulled me in to dance. He was actually kind of cute. I turned my head back and looked at Chris, whose face changed from a look of awe, to visible irritation with his arm now wrapped around the random girls shoulders. I rolled my eyes, now moving to place my hands on the new man’s shoulders, he wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t Chris.

The feeling in my chest was now simmering, an angry feeling this time. How can he have the fucking audacity to be irritated when he was doing the same fucking thing? I needed to stop being pushed over by his little antics. I looked up at the man dancing, and turned around as his hands followed my hips and their movements. I blamed it on the alcohol that made me feel so many things at once. Maybe I should’ve taken it as a distraction. That horrible feeling coming back, once again. I didn’t know weather to be angry, or finally happy that I’m getting attention from someone that wasn’t the brunette boy I was in love with.

He had smirked down at me, but I closed my eyes and leant my head against his shoulder as we continued to the rhythm. I felt his breath on the side of my neck, but before I could feel his lips, there was an audible crunch and suddenly, I was being ripped away from the moment. My eyes snapped open, watching Chris stand there with a bloody hand and the man I was dancing with had an even worse nose, and he was on the floor. The crowd around me gasped, watching with interest at the commotion.

I was beyond furious. My eyes snapped to Chris’ gaze, who was now heaving and slowly turned to me. If looked could kill - he would simply have died 12 times. He tried to come up to me, but I placed my hand up and walked through the crowd. He called my name multiple times, but with each cry from his mouth just made me want to move my legs a little faster.

I finally made it outside to the parking lot - Chris still hot on my heels. He reached for my elbow, but I whipped around. Angry and confusion flashing through me, as hard and rough as waves against a rocks during a storm. It consumed me at this point; everything coming out and finally coming to the surface. “Don’t you fucking dare!” I screamed at him, the fury that raged through me had my shaking as I pushed a finger against his chest.

His eyes widened - he had never seen me like this before; but I had finally had enough. “What do you think you’re doing Christopher?” I poked again, “What is this? You fucking go off with someone but as soon as I do it, it’s a fucking problem?” I shouted again. His blue eyes just stared at me. Wow, for once Chris Sturniolo didn’t have anything to say. “That was pathetic! Who are you to have the fucking audacity to punch someone I was dancing with, again? Because let’s admit it; it’s not the fucking first time!” I raised my hands in frustration and the slapped against my thighs as I dropped them.

The warmth from my was rising, my skin flushing from the emotions running from me. Tears started to prickle in my eyes. “I’m so fucking tired of it Chris.” I finally whispered, as my anger grew into sadness. I was so disappointed with myself, knowing I should be pissed. “(Y/N)- please. He was about to kiss your neck-.” He tried to explain himself, but I felt that rage again.

“And so Chris? What about it? I have been fucking in love with you for four years! Four Years Chris, we’ve been dancing this fucking line for so long, and I just have to keep quiet and deal with it when you get with other girls and dealing with your jealousy but fuck sakes - when are you going to come to your fucking senses and realize that it’s not just about you!” I rambled; pushing his shoulder.

“I can only take so much, you either want me or you don’t!”He looked at me, his blue eyes softened as he saw the fat tears fall down my cheeks. “I’ve been in love with you, and all the looks, and teasing and flirting and all this time I can’t do anything about it because you’re my best friend-.” I sobbed, but was quickly cut off with him placing his hands on my cheeks. “God, you’re stupid. I’m stupid, we’re both stupid.” He said, looking at me.

I got visibly upset, “Excuse me?” I said, sniffing. He placed one hand over my mouth. “Before you get all ridiculous, you’re stupid because it took you this long to realize I’m in love with you too. And i’m stupid because it took me a screaming match to tell you that i’ve been in love with you since we were kids.” He whispered, placing his forehead on mine.

My hands wrapped around his hoodie covered wrists. I pulled his hands away from my face, “You fucking asshole!” I screamed, but a playful smile had begun to take over my face, pushing him away further and further as a giggle started to leave my mouth.

“What? What now?” He smiled, pulling his arms to his body to protect himself from my soft hits and pushes. “You ruined that guys fucking nose for nothing! As well as my makeup might I add!” I crossed my arms.

Chris had rolled his eyes, before dodging one more hit and grabbing my face once again. Except, this time he had placed his lips on mine. He started to move his lips against mine; and a whole relief just flowed after me. I felt his tongue move against my lip, receiving entrance into my mouth. I let out a little whimper as he walked my back, and I was now pressed against the pillar of the car park.

“He fucking deserved it.” He mumbled against my lips, feeling his body pressed against mine; and his hands now rested on my hips. I ran my fingers into his hair, pulling slightly. Chris let out a pathetic whine, causing him to flush. He pulled away from my and looked down at me. “You’ve got a lot of making up to do pretty boy.” I scanned his face. His lip rolled under his teeth, and he nodded pathetically with a hint of pink dusted on his cheeks.

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Eight

Summary

When whining about season selection to your therapist turns into confronting the complicated ways that Astarion makes you feel, she challenges you to really explore what it is that you - or perhaps your subconscious - want.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2.6k Tags/Warnings: imagined D/s dynamic, light bondage, ascended Astarion lines, vaginal fingering, masturbation

Thank god this girl is finally getting into therapy, am I right? I don't have a ton to say other than now that the major conflict I had planned is winding down, it's going to be a lot more about exploration from here on out.

Once again, Zaria is out here killing it with these screenshots!

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

You massage your temples in an attempt to ease your headache. Season selection has been going terribly – every meeting just ended with everyone talking in circles. Today, it’s Alfira’s turn to make her case as to why hers is the best choice.

“I just think that it would do our students a lot of good to have this outlet to talk about their mental health,” she insists, bleeding heart that she is.

“I’m not necessarily saying I disagree with you,” you begin, gears in your head turning as you formulate your thoughts. “But isn’t Heathers, like, dark to the point of troubling?”

“Well sure, it’s dark, but what do you mean troubling?” Her eyes are big and round, and you try to imagine someone as tender as Alfira blocking a scene like “Dead Girl Walking.” It’s not easy.

“I’ve seen the way teen girls talk about the character JD, it’s a little concerning.” You fold your arms and lean back in your chair, studying Alfira’s expression carefully as it twists into a frown.

“I mean, sure, some of them think he’s cute, but I don’t think anyone is looking at him and thinking ‘boyfriend goals.’” 

“Are you sure? Have you seen the TikToks for that one song? What’s-it-called, the ‘open the door’ song.” Your fingers twitch towards your phone, fighting the urge to pull up the app.

“Yeah, ‘Meant to be Yours,’ I’ve seen them, and I think they’re fairly harmless. They know it’s not real, you know?” She fiddles with the pen in her hand, not taking her eyes off you. You squirm, uncomfortable under her persistent gaze.

“Maybe you’re right. I don’t know.” You look down at your notes, giving yourself a second to think. “Something about the way they talk about JD makes me feel icky. JD as a character makes me feel icky. Besides,” you add quickly before she gets that puppy dog look in her eyes, “I don’t know if building around a theme of ‘mental health’ is specific enough to be interesting. I’m not even sure I can think of a classical play that fits into that.”

“Perhaps Hamlet?” Lucretious says with a smirk, and you groan loudly as others in the meeting titter.

“Gods, please, literally anything else,” you whine. 

The discussion continues, going absolutely nowhere, until the clock ticks over and everyone starts to pack up their things. Another meeting gone, and you’re no closer to having a season for next year. You put away your notebook and Alfira comes up beside you.

“Just think on it a little more,” she implores. “The kids have talked a lot about wanting to do Heathers, I’m just advocating for them.”

“But do you think it’s a good, timely choice? You, the professor?” you ask suspiciously, trying to scope out her intentions.

“I really do, yes. I think there’s a reason why they’re drawn to it right now.”

You chew on your lip and look at her a little longer. Then you sigh and acquiesce. “Fine, I’ll give it another read. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it, maybe there’s something I’m missing.”

“Thank you! I appreciate it, and I know the students do too,” she says, giving your arm a little squeeze. You soften, finding it difficult to perform your usual stubbornness with someone as sweet as Alfira.

Something is still gnawing at you, though, and you can’t figure out what.

***

You arrive at your therapist’s office a few minutes before your appointment. You sit in the waiting room, the white noise machine humming pleasantly. At 6:00 on the dot, Jaheira opens the door and waves you forward.

“Come in,” she says in her thick Russian accent. You walk past her into the office, which has a cozy, natural vibe. Between all of the plants and the bookshelves, you have no idea what color the walls are. You toe off your shoes and settle on the couch cross-legged as she sits across from you in an elegant red chair.

“So tell me, how are things going?” she asks, crossing her legs and letting her legal pad balance on her knee. You fidget uncomfortably, trying to figure out what to bring up first. But the season selection meeting is still so fresh in your mind, and you have so many thoughts bouncing around your head. Before you can stop yourself, you’re filling her in on all the details, including your feelings about Heathers.

“I just don’t understand why she’s so insistent on this musical, it’s not even really that good,” you grump, picking at your cuticles. She taps her pen to her mouth contemplatively.

“And this character that bothers you so much, JD? What is it about him specifically that gets under your skin? Surely you don’t feel this way about all bad guys in plays.” She tilts her head as she speaks and your eyes dart around the room, both avoiding her gaze and trying to gather your thoughts.

“I don’t know, there’s just something… Honestly, I think it’s the way these teen girls talk about him. I can totally see some of myself in them, too. I feel like if I were a teen when this musical came out I’d be foaming at the mouth for him.” You roll your eyes at the imaginary version of yourself you’ve conjured.

“Is that bad? To find the villain attractive?”

“It’s not just finding him attractive, it’s what qualities they find attractive. The toxicity, the obsessiveness, the violence. I don’t want them to take that into their real lives, you know?” Your words ring in your ears with double meaning and you quickly shut the errant thought down. Not Jaheira, though. She picks up on it immediately.

“We’re not talking about JD anymore, are we?” she asks softly and you fold your arms across your chest. You’re silent for a good long time, various thoughts and feelings barreling through your mind like a train, while she just watches you patiently. Finally, you muster up the energy to speak.

“I just… don’t like that I like it. Every time my body gets turned on by something terrible that he does, I feel betrayed. Like I’ve violated my own consent. It makes me feel sick,” you say in a very small voice, fixing your gaze on a small succulent on the coffee table in front of you.

“I believe you said last tenday that he thought it was all a game, correct?” she asks carefully, and you nod. She continues, “Well, what’s stopping you from playing along with him?”

You stare at her, that ringing in your ears coming back. Your stomach lurches, but you genuinely can’t tell if it’s from aversion or excitement.

“I mean, I don’t want to think of my relationship as a game,” you say with slight disgust. She shakes her head.

“Not the relationship, no, but perhaps other things. If you two agree on the rules ahead of time, find a safe way to tap out if need be, what’s to stop you from having fun?”

“What, like kink?” you ask with incredulity. It’s not something you had ever considered for yourself.

“You could call it that, but it doesn't need to be anything so formal. As long as you agree on your boundaries prior.” She looks at you with that penetrating stare again, like she can peer directly into your thoughts. “Can you trust this man?”

You genuinely don't know the answer to this question.

She doesn't let the silence linger for quite as long this time. She continues, “Try it on your own, first. Just fantasy. Give yourself permission to go as dark as you want. Just make sure you have a bottle of wine and a good friend on hand.” You immediately picture a smiley Shadowheart.

There's still something tugging at your mind, though.

“But doesn't it say something about my, like, feminist values if I want to get beat up in the bedroom?” You pick some lint off your sock so you don't need to look at her, but you steal a glance up at her anyway. She’s raising an eyebrow.

“What does it say?” she asks in that tone she uses when she's pushing back on one of your biases. You swallow your instinctive response and really think about an answer.

“I don't know, like I'm a bad feminist or something,” you finally mutter. Jaheira barks out a laugh.

“Please, what, do you think you're going to go to Feminist Thought Jail? That the Feminist Police are going to come and arrest you?” Her tone is snide but it makes you crack a smile nonetheless. She knows that you sometimes need a firm hand to keep your anxiety in line.

“Your homework,” she continues, glancing at the clock, “is to let yourself explore this fantasy, however you want. Whether it's just in your mind, or in writing, you can touch yourself or not, it's up to you.” Your cheeks redden slightly at getting “masturbate” as therapy homework. “Just make sure you're listening to your body. I think she knows what she wants more than that brain of yours.”

You take a deep breath and put your feet on the floor again, slipping your sneakers back on.

“Thanks, Jaheira.”

“You're welcome. It's literally my job. I'll see you next tenday, yeah?”

You nod, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You exit her office, ideas for your “assignment” bouncing around your head.

***

You get back to your apartment and kick off your shoes. You drop your bag and immediately head into the kitchen to pour yourself a drink. There’s absolutely no way you can do this stone cold sober. Your eyes flit between the fridge handle and the wine rack above it. Red or white? The image of Astarion licking your blood off his lips invades your mind.

Red. Obviously. Unfortunately. 

You catch yourself. You don’t need to be so judgmental. You like red, and if it adds to the experience because it makes you think of him, so be it.

Your desire to cringe is potent nevertheless.

You bring the glass into your bedroom and dim the lights in an attempt to set some sort of mood. You pull a candle out of a Bath and Bodyworks bag on your dresser, trying not to think about how much time you spent trying to find one with the right smell. You set the candle and your wine glass on your bedside table. You strike a match and watch as the wick catches light, the flame bobbing around like a chipper little parakeet. 

While staring off into space in the direction of the candle, you take a long, deep sip of wine. After a moment, you lie back on your bed and stare at your ceiling. Echoes of the fire dance across your vision. You take a deep breath, nervous about where you’re about to let your mind wander. 

You conjure up his expression from the night you saw Taming. That snide grin, fangs bared, blood dripping down his chin. You remember him closing his hand around your throat and something deep in your core constricts. You let your hand slide down your front, taking your time, and his words reverberate in your ears.

Little love, do you think you’re in control?

You unbutton your jeans and your hand slips below the waistband of your panties. You dip your middle finger into your slick and let out a shaky breath.

You insolent little brat. I will absolutely ruin you.

The thought brings a voiceless moan to your lips. Your ring finger joins your middle finger and they lazily run along your folds, spreading your wetness. 

Your eyes shoot open – you hadn’t even realized they were closed. You can feel the judgment, the anger, the frustration, all bubbling up inside of you. You take a deep breath, acknowledge it, and let your imagination take over again.

You visualize him smugly peering over his glasses at you, the round wire ones, and he points down to his feet.

On your knees, darling.

His voice in your mind is smooth like velvet, low with just a tinge of threat. You look up at him, your bound hands resting in your lap, a collar around your neck. He holds the leash.

Back in your bedroom, your back arches as you slide your middle finger into your cunt, just barely up to the second knuckle. You whimper at the thought of him pulling the leash tight. Your breath moves high into your chest, making your tits heave with the exertion. You move your other hand to your nipple, gently rolling it between your fingers as another needy moan works its way into your mouth. You savor this one slightly, lending it some of your voice.

The collar is replaced by his hand, his fingers tight on your neck. He pulls up on your jaw, bringing you to an upright position on your knees. He kisses you, rough and hungry, your hands twitching against their cuffs.

You let a second finger join the first inside your cunt, tilting your pelvis to get a better angle. Your jeans constrict your waist, and in a huff you shove them down past your hips and kick them off your feet. Your fingers immediately dive back into you and you groan, thinking about his hand yanking your hair back and exposing your neck to him.

In your fantasy you say something, anything, the words are garbled nonsense in your mind. But he laughs cruelly, a far cry from his high pitched giggle that you love so much.

“Don’t be stupid, darling,” he spits, and your legs fall open to let your fingers in further, the top of your palm coming into contact with your clit. Your hips cant into your hand, your throbbing pussy aching for more friction, more heat. 

“Fuck me, Astarion, make me yours,” you whine instinctually, his name sweet and bitter on your tongue. Your conscious mind recoils – do you want him to call you stupid? You’re already insecure about that as it is.

Fantasy, your subconscious coos. It’s just fantasy. You take a deep breath and give yourself permission to keep going.

He traps your naked body with his, caging you in without a means of escape. His eyes glint with something feral, like a predator, as he buries his nose into your hair. You squirm and moan for him, the line between fantasy and reality blurring. His fangs scrape across your jaw as his words spit rapidfire into your ear.

You precious little thing.

You’re mine, remember?

I shall lock you in a room and keep you all to myself.

You’re going to be wonderfully obedient.

Your fingers slide out of your cunt and you move their ministrations to your clit, rubbing in quick, small circles as his imaginary voice rattles in your brain. Your feet push against the mattress, pressing your hips into your fingers as you desperately chase release. Every part of you aches to be held down by him, his cold hands gripping your wrists as he fucks you senseless. His palm slapped across your mouth to muffle your cries of pleasure. His fangs deep in your neck as his cock thrusts even deeper.

Your hand stutters as it tries to keep pace with your fantasy, yearning to feel every inch of him across your body. Your stomach tightens and your pussy clenches and you come in a crashing wave all over your hand. You continue stroking yourself through the end of your climax, eventually succumbing to stillness. The only sensations you feel are the slowing throb in your cunt and your breath wracking through your lungs. 

You let your hand linger in the sticky mess between your legs, turning your head to face the flickering orange light from the candle. 

What do you want?

You’re very good at asking me that. I’m not sure you’re good at answering it yourself.

So… what do you want?

[mlm-writer]

Ease My Mind (Smokescreen x Mech Reader)

Pairing: TFP Smokescreen x Mech/Male Reader (trans-friendly) Rating: Explicit (?)  Words: 680 POV: Third Summary: Smokescreen is suffering under the pressure of Optimus’ legacy and there is only one mech who can ease his mind. Notes: For the prompt ‘robotfucking’. See my kinktober 2022 masterlist here. Reader is referred to with he/him, but there is no spike or whatever here. Tags: sparkplay, angst and fluff and smut

Even a power down did not stop his processors from simulating unnecessary hypotheticals. Smokescreen watched the sun slowly illuminate Cybertron, his home, once more. It had gotten so lively in the past months and as a member of team Prime, most of those new sparks would look to him for guidance and direction. It was a burden larger than his younger self ever could have imagined. It was a burden he was unsure his present self could shoulder.

From the darkness of the rest of his room, emerged a young bot. He wrapped his arms around Smokescreen’s chassis and pressed the side of his helm against Smokescreen’s. “It is a stunning sight, isn’t it?” He spoke, his voice muted to match the quiet in the room, but even at this low volume, the bot’s voice penetrated through the static noise in Smokescreen’s processors.

“It is,” Smokescreen agreed readily. Pulled from his thoughts, he had little more to say at the moment. The blue-yellow bot did not move as his sparkmate settled himself in his lap. Cuddled up together, they watched the day cycle break in. 

“I spoke to Bulkhead the other day. Construction is going splendidly. Gearblast spoke of opening an energon bar with music and a monthly talent show. I am pretty sure he came up with the idea to show off how many Earth songs he knows…” 

Smokescreen shut down his optics, focussing on the input from his audials. The other bot’s voice calmed his every thought, the words irrelevant. Once his cables were no longer taut, the bot in his lap ceased his idle chatter. “There we go, relax, my dear. You don’t have to carry the weight of a civilisation on your own.” 

Smokescreen brought his optics back online, the sight before him a masterpiece from Primus himself. There was no need to be perfect around his sparkmate. He felt like a mess sometimes, stuck between his own youth and veteranism. It left him in pieces he did not quite know how to put together. However, his sparkmate knew exactly how. 

Right now the other’s servo was resting on his chassis, right above his spark. Questioning optics met Smokescreen’s own. He smiled and gave a nod, before opening his chassis. His spark was bared to the world, but only to be seen by his sparkmate, who also exposed his spark. Their sparks casted a blue hue upon their faces as they reached out, the energy intertwining. 

A mutual gasp filled the silence, when the tendrils of pure energy met each other. Smokescreen threw his head back, as the feedback ran along his fuel lines, electricity running between him and his sparkmate. “I can’t believe I ever went without this,” Smokescreen shuddered. His processors were wiped clean of worries, making place for pure pleasure. A wanton moan left him, making him lose trust in his vocal box. Whatever was going to come out of it from here on, he had no control over it. 

His sparkmate knew it and sent another wave of pleasure with his spark. They both cursed as the energy between them flourished, slowly working towards a peak. The feedback loop allowed them to feel each other’s pleasure and amplify it. “I’m going to overload soon. Join me,” Smokescreen’s sparkmate shuddered. The veteran did not need to be told twice. 

“Yes, yes, please,” he whimpered as he felt a familiar pleasure coiling up in his frame. His voice glitched, as he was hurled towards his climax. Static filled the moans echoing through the room. 

The sparkmates held onto each other as their overload crashed over them, the energy between them dissipating and lightening up the room in a blue hue of their combined sparks. They slumped against each other, vents whirring loudly and electricity still dancing over their cables. “Are you ok, Smokey?” 

Smokescreen hummed and closed his chassis. His sparkmate did the same and Smokescreen pressed his faceplates against his neck cables. “Thank you. You always know how to ease my mind.” 

His sparkmate caressed his helm. “And I love doing it too.” 

[revvethasmythh]

In response to your Fearne/Chetney song post: Consider this ask an opportunity to pick any playlists you have and ramble about them, I absolutely love discovering new music through playlists!

yes EXCELLENT thank you!!

okay to keep myself on task so I don't just ramble for like 5k words, I'm going to treat this a top 10 list and this is going to specifically be for my widobrave playlist because she is my baby and I've been working on her for a long time and you know what? the wb tag deserves a little love. I'm going to try to spotlight different songs than I talked about before, too, for diversity's sake

this is absolutely going to get long, so I'll put the rest under the cut.

1: I And Love And You, The Avett Brothers

oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. What is there to say that the song does not say itself? There are a few ways I think this song could be interpreted depending on how you're reading the lyrics, but the line "that woman she got eyes that shine/like a pair of stolen polished dimes" is so fucking good and so Veth this will always be a top song for me. Also need to shout out the "the dream's the catch/the world's the cage" line in this one, because that has always made me think back to Heart in a Cage--I consider them related in my own personal widobrave lyrical thematic universe. Verdict: The vibes are excellent. The Avett brothers always pull through for me

2. Summertime, MCR

obviously this was going to show up in wb song list for me because I named one of my fics after this song! I've always associated summer with wb anyway, but the additional layer of the summer camp and that being a time they specifically spend together in post-canon makes it even better. "You can run away with me any time you want" also follows through on the "runaway" theme that they've both had on their separate playlists (Runaway by Yeah Yeah Yeahs on Caleb's first playlist and Runaway Pt. 1 (Love Has Limits) by Colony House on the Veth playlist).

3. Who Will I Hold, The Avett Brothers

I am screaming and crying and throwing up every time this song comes on. Listen to their one-on-one talk in episode 121 and then listen to this song. The lyrics are so remarkably accurate, it's a thing to behold. "I'm bracing for loneliness, I know it's coming/Now, who will I hold when you're gone?"

4. Hand Over Heart, Gin Wigmore

Melancholy and loving and again incredibly accurate lyrics from "and promise me, day and night/you'll always be my best friend" to "you got the magic to light up the stars/it's like the world is spinning just for you."

5. Not Alone, Shawn James

Very tender song that resonates a lot with wb, and also so very reminiscent of what Veth told Caleb in the finale with the line "Listen close and hear/I want you to let go of your fear/You can find love/Let go of your strife and get what you want out of your life." Like, I think there's a gifset out there somewhere where she basically just says this to Caleb.

6. I Will Follow Him, Peggy March

Okay so this one IS from the first Nott playlist, but I don't see it talked about very much and tbh if you're listening to it from the pov of having seen the end of the campaign, this one just hits different. Shoutout to the "he'll always be my true love" lyric. Like WHAT. The way that song was on an official CR playlist and no one ever talks about it, I'm--

7. Head Full Of Doubt/Road Full Of Promise, The Avett Brothers

A third Avett Brothers song, you say?? Why yes, indeed. Their songs just really hit for this ship with me. I consider this song to mostly be a Veth song, revolving a lot around Veth's self-doubt issues, but if we're following Rosie's Lyrical Thematic Universe (RLTU), this lyric, "There was a dream and one day I could see it/Like a bird in a cage I broke in and demanded that somebody free it" stands out a lot. Like the song progression of Heart in a Cage -> I And Love And You -> Head Full Of Doubt/Road Full Of Promise is what I'm getting at here. "Oh, the heart beats in its cage" to "The dream's the catch/The world's the cage" to "Like a bird in a cage I broke in a demanded that somebody free it." The caged bird thing is HUGE thematically with me and which I think is really funny because it's literally just ME out here with these hyper specific themes and motifs going on. But I love it, I think it works great for them

8. If U Stayed, ZZ Ward

You come to this song for pure angst and pure angsty only. If you want to feel angsty about the fact that they're non-canon, this is the song for you.

9. December Song, Birdtalker (of Blue Healer fame) and Joy Williams (of Trouble With Wanting fame)

"Friend your heart has been far away from mine/There's no one to blame but that wicked stalwart time/And as the year marches steady to its end/Oh, my heart is longing to be close to yours again"

I've been wanting to write a post-canon holiday themed piece based around this song for AGES. the details aren't perfectly accurate, but the vibes are very much there.

10. Lead to Light, Nico Vega

No song list/playlist of mine is ever complete without at least ONE Nico Vega song. The themes of, well, "I will drop anything for you" ring very true, but my favorite line is the bridge: "Oh my love, you know you are a teacher/But you don't know I can be a teacher, too." I appreciate it on one level as inherently suggestive, but extremely literal in the case of late widobrave with Veth opening up her camp to teach adventurers, especially since she had said she wasn't a good teacher sometime in the early campaign.

Honorable Mentions:

1: So Sorry Mama, Whitney Duncan

The details of this song do not match up with canon, HOWEVER, I am 100% certain Veth (lover of monsters and of bad boys) has had at least one, if not more, fantasies re: Caleb that sound exactly like this. So I'm including it because I am sure that she'd had this vision at least once in a dream

2. If We Were Vampires, Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit

I'll admit this one is highly specific to me, which is why it's in the honorable mentions section, because I'm pulling a lot of the themes of this song for the post-canon wb piece I'm working on right now. It's also just a very bittersweet, tender song that is so, so good about loving someone for as long as you can and making those days count

A bonus Veth-specific honorable mention:

Whiskey Fever by Dorothy. It's not all that deep of a song rec, but it's pretty accurate and it slaps. This song fucking slaps.

A bonus Caleb-specific honorable mention:

Innocent by Taylor Swift. Never thought I'd choose a T. Swift song for him, but it so eerily accurate to his story. Could double a wb song, but I largely relate it to Caleb due to its subject matter.

if anyone was actually curious, I'll just add the full playlist here for perusal sake because there's A LOT more on there, these are just my personal favorites:

[airenyah]

so i was tagged by @lurkingteapot to list my 9 favorite tv shows. i find it difficult to define "favorite" so i'm just gonna list a whole bunch of current faves, past faves, and other series that stuck with me or have a special place in my heart for whatever reason.

tagging @magsimags @newyearknwwme @swabianhotpocket @killiru @gaym3bo1 @ranchthoughts @gillianthecat @feralmuskyscentedhoepran @telomeke – feel free to ignore this if you've been tagged already or if you don't feel like participating <3

here are mine in alphabetical order (bc i really CAN'T do a ranking):

(details under the cut)

bad buddy series:

you've seen the state of my blog for the past 1.5 years. i'm not even gonna elaborate

galavant:

I MISS GALAVANT EVERY SINGLE DAY. it was gone too soon, even if the renewal for a second season was a huge surprise (forever sad we couldn't get a 3rd season).

please this series is so funny and entertaining and just iconic. the dialogue is SOOOO quotable and the songs are so funny and amazing!!!!!!!!!! (i mean hello it's alan menken!!!!!)

it's got badass ladies, a pathetic little meow meow king, A DRAGON (i super believe in tad cooper <333), an army of gays, pirates who are the lords of the sea (except for the part with the sea), a knight in shinging armour who is some over-muscled chauvinistic self-indulgent egotistic stingy prissy narcisissy jackass in a caaaaaaan, and so much more

PLEASE IF YOU LOVE DISNEY MOVIES AND MUSICALS AND FOURTH WALL BREAKS DO YOURSELF A FAVOUR AND GO WATCH THIS LITTLE GEM OF A SERIES. PLEASE. it's my favorite thing ever <333333333

fun fact: the title of my blog which goes "oh poop, i got gravy on my tummy flowers!" is a quote from this series

moonlight chicken:

this is one of the 3 series that i've rated as a 10/10 on mydramalist, so i HAD to include it and well. it's just. i don't know how to put it into words

this series and the characters just feel so real. i like how every single character has their own baggage to carry and how they all come together and influence each other. and i really like that this isn't your standard fluffy romance story. actually, one of my favorite things in this series is how the break-up between alan and wen is a major plot line. and i like how messy it all is, how long it takes them to actually draw the line. again, it just feels so real.

not to mention there's a deaf character!!!! please heart and li ming were just so wholesome 🥺🥺🥺 and li ming's relationship with his uncle was just so endearing

once again i am begging gmmtv:

FIRSTMIX MAIN COUPLE SERIES WHEN????

can we please, PLEASE, have another series with earth and fourth as an uncle/nephew duo?? fuck romantic actor pairs, give me familial ones!! you've already let fourth keep the same mother* two series in a row, let him keep the uncle too!!!! *(on that note: i ADORE lookwa. i don't fuck but she's a milf)

orphan black:

i'm not sure i ever actually finished this series (i think i'm still missing the final season??) but i just HAD to include it bc tatiana maslany, okay. tatiana maslany. that's it, that's all i'm gonna say

skam (norsk):

you had to be there

supernatural:

og followers will remember when this was still a spn blog. yes, this show makes the list. once a spn blog, always a spn blog*. free me.

*fun fact: this started as a spn blog and that's something that's actually still visible in my tagging system. spn is the only show where i don't tag episodes as #series abbreviation 1.01 but i tag the ep by the number itself without specifying the series

the brightest star in the sky:

during the pandemic my mom came to me and said "you need to watch this series. the male lead reminds me so much of your brother". i watched it with her. she was right. the male lead is exactly like my little brother. to the point where there was this one scene where the male lead was criticizing the female lead's outfit and my mom and i laughed and went "[brother] would totally say this too" and only a few days later my brother and i had a conversation about clothing over lunch and my brother said almost exactly the same thing as the male lead in that one scene and i looked at my mom in surprise and went "did you tell him about that scene????" as my mom was cracking up and shaking her head that no, she had not.

although, when i say the male lead is exactly like my brother, that's a lie. in fact, he's a mix of both my brother and an old friend of ours who was always like a second little brother to me (the two of them actually had similar personalities when they were teens)

and the female lead reminds me of a female friend that was also in the friend group with us (and who is one of my brother's best friends)

in fact, the dynamic between the male lead and the female lead reminds me very much of the dynamic between my brother and said female friend

all in all, the main characters are just very familiar to me and remind me of people i adore and that's why this series has a special place in my heart. (even if i constantly want to punch zheng boxu. sibling love <3)

theory of love:

ok i know this is kind of a controversial one, bc people seem to either love it or hate it BUT. just know that this series and especially the khaithird plot was made for me, and me personally <3

this series came to me at exactly the right time. it was like a mirror to my own life at the time and brought a lot of catharthis. i was going through a "break-up" with my own personal irl-khai back then and this series helped me deal with that, helped me get over him, and reconfirmed to me over and over again that i had taken the right decisions.

theory of love is also the thai drama that i've seen the most amount of times (i've watched the khaithird plot 27x that i've counted as of july 2nd, 2023) (though by now bbs is a close second with 22 full watches that i've counted as of july 2nd, 2023 and it might surpass theory of love at some point now that my personal irl-khai is no longer relevant in my life in any way. you know what that is!! growth!!!! the day bbs surpasses tol is the day i really, truly AM well and over my irl-khai)

you're beautiful:

ok. ok. hear me out. this is a kdrama from 2009, right?? but i didn't watch it until november 2021 where i'd had quite a day and in the evening was super exhausted and just wanted a zero-braincell show to watch and this happened to be on netflix and looked like the perfect thing for my state

little did i know it was gonna be a million-braincell show for me.

basically, i ended up being really entertained by it, saw that there were remakes, decided to check those out too and well. it got my little actor brain going. i started analyzing the acting (comparing esp the og korean version with the taiwanese remake) and it turned into this whole thing where i wrote pages and pages of notes in a google doc. i learned a lot through that and luckily we had camera acting classes at drama school during that period, so it was perfect timing. i suddenly understood so many things and what an effect it can have on the viewer if you do (or don't do) something a certain way

(oh and then a year later i inflicted this series on a uni friend of mine and it turned into this whole acting analysis project after i'd mentioned about something about acting and went "wait, i have THE perfect example for what i mean where you can see it first-hand." we had a great time and then binged the entire series during semester break. i'm planning on getting her into thai ql too, but unfortunately we're both super busy and don't really have time to watch series together)

honorary mentions:

ever night: i watched only the first season, though. and it's been a while since i saw it (3 years ago during lockdown) and so i don't remember the plot very well but... beautiful cinematography. loveable characters. fantastic acting. also the special effects when the main character did those "spells" (forgot what it was called) looked so cool??????

why r u: that was my first thai bl. the one that pulled me into the world of thai drama. considering how i'm mostly a thai drama blog now and the rebranding started with this series i couldn't not mention it, could i

my school president: it has to make the list just for episode 6 alone (gun desperately wanting to know which person from the music club tinn likes but being terrified ask and deep down knowing the answer already anyway but not feeling ready to hear it???? ooooooof that's so me-coded). anyway, all in all it's just a very sweet and wholesome drama and i'm still listening to a bunch of the songs a lot

the fosters: i was obsessed with this back in 2015. i stopped watching it shortly before the jonnor break-up bc i was busy at the time and when i saw the spoilers about the break-up i couldn't be bothered to catch up. but yeah, i was really into it for a while as well

andi mack: i've made multiple gifsets of that show. i don't gif a lot so yeah. considering that i bothered to sit down and make gifs for this, i think andi mack deserves an honorary mention. i wasn't suuper obsessed with it but i did quite like watching it

merlin (bbc): it's just very entertaining ok and the characters are fun to watch and have fun dynamics

[sevlgi]

c’est la vie

requested: yes (many different requests put together)

group: blackpink

pairing: rosé x fem!reader

genre: a shit ton of angst, fluff ending 

contents: band!au, (kind of) celebrities!au, rivals to lovers, guitarist!rosé, guitarist!y/n, they’re honestly so in love, featuring jennie, jisoo, lisa, twice’s mina, skz’s han + chan, bts’s jeongguk, nct’s johnny + jaehyun. READ THIS FOR BAND CONTEXT

warnings: mentions of smoking

synopsis: It’s been 8 years since your legendary rivalry with L0VES1CK’s Park Chaeyoung began, and yet, she doesn’t seem to hate you any less. But maybe, with the right turn of events, both of you will learn that the line between love and hate is far thinner than you think.

a/n: IF THIS FLOPS I AM GOING TO FUCKING DEACTIVATE /HJ

listen to: all my friends are turning blue by loren, you stupid bitch by girl in red, love me or leave me by day6, slump by stray kids

word count: 12.2k

Park Chaeyoung hates that she can smell the smoke that clings to her clothing, even as she sings her heart out on stage with her hands moving restlessly on her beloved guitar.

This is her favorite place. The water that Lisa sprays into the crowd splashes onto her as well and glistens in her hair like beads sculpted of diamond, and she can hear Mina going hard on the drums behind her, Chan matching her energy on his electric guitar. Jaehyun backs Chaeyoung up when she misses the occasional lyric, holding her mic out to the crowd with a huge grin on her face.

And yet, the salty sting of sweat and the sweet hairspray that lingers on her doesn’t manage to disguise the cigarette box sitting in her pocket and the lighter one inch away from crashing onto the ground and setting the whole stage on fire.

But the song’s over, and she’s waving to the crowd as she walks off the stage backwards. “Come on,” Lisa laughs, tugging her down by her shirt. “We still have two shows left, and I’ll bet most of these guys will be at those too.”

“Can you blame me for wanting to stay up there a little longer?” Chaeyoung smiles. “What’re we doing tonight?”

Jaehyun and Chan exchange glances, Mina having already sped onto the tour bus to claim her shower privileges. “We could stay here,” Chan ventures. “We’ve gone out every night for the past couple of weeks.”

Chaeyoung wrinkles her nose. “I don’t want to stay and listen to Bloodbath’s rehearsal.”

Rolling her eyes, Lisa shoves the Australian girl lightly and sighs, “I don’t get what you have against them. They’re good, and I’m sure they’re cool.”

“Have you been to one of their shows?” Chae scoffs. When met with silence, she raises her eyebrows and scans over her slightly guilty-looking bandmates. “Oh, god. You did.”

“In our defense, it was Mina’s idea,” Jaehyun pipes up. Typical of him to try and throw the missing member under the bus; Chaeyoung makes a mental note to rat him out later, in exchange for using Mina’s superior shower later. 

“Whatever. I guess we can stay in,” the guitarist sighs, yanking the door to her and Lisa’s tour bus open, probably a little harder than strictly necessary. She catches a glance of herself in the bathroom mirror, piercings caught in her hot-pink hair and glitter beading in the sweat that drips down her arm.

She flinches when she hears the loud, out-of-tune strum of a guitar, somehow penetrating the thick metal of the tour bus even from the stage a few miles away. 

Chaeyoung shoves her headphones in and turns the volume all the way up, uncaring of how her own voice grates on her ears. If she can’t go out, she’ll find her own distraction; when her hand drifts toward her back pocket, she realizes just how easy it is to drown out the idea that you ever existed.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry!” You wince and adjust your in-ear as the sound of your guitar echoes through the stadium, at ten times the volume it should be at. Jennie fails to disguise the absolute horror on her face as she’s deafened by the echoes inside her ears; you’d think that she would be used to it by now, but somehow, she still flinches every time.

Jisung yelps, ever the dramatic one. His own guitar hangs around his neck, abandoned for the mic that he fiddles with. You shout over the noise, “Jisoo, could you turn it down, though? Level 2, please.”

Your manager flashes a thumbs up before retreating down the stairs, massaging her own ears when you aren’t looking. “Did you say level 2?”

“Yeah!” Hesitantly, you strum what you think will be a softer chord, only for the same shriek to tear through your ears again. “I’m sorry,” you plead again, holding your hands up in a prayer when you earn another dirty look from Jennie.

In contrast, you can’t hear Jeongguk’s drums even when he uses his full (and considerable) strength, and even Jisung’s highest note doesn’t make it past the first row of the stadium. Flinging his hands up in the air, Jeongguk sighs, “This is not going to work. We have a show tomorrow.”

“I know,” you exhale sharply, making sure to keep a hand on your guitar so that you aren’t deafened again. 

“Bad news. Sound system is completely and utterly broken,” Jisoo says, cupping her hands so that her voice echoes up the stairwell. “None of your stuff is compatible with the speakers, and we don’t have the time to tune the backups.”

“So... what do we do?” Jisung frowns, hand stilling on his guitar.

Jisoo grimaces, “You’re probably going to have to go completely without the sound system and rely on acoustics.”

You make a face. “I have an electric guitar. And Jisung can’t be heard over Jeongguk without his mic, no offense to either of you.”

“Wasn’t L0VES1CK playing today?” Jennie questions, giving up on her own mic. “Could we ask to borrow their stuff?”

“Do they have everything we need?” Jeongguk asks doubtfully.

Jisoo sighs, and picks the lanyard with the keys up. “Worth a try. Can you guys try with just acoustics? Y/N, take Jennie’s ballad guitar. And Jeongguk, try to leave Jisung a little room.”

All of you give her a chorus of agreement, before you turn to your band members. “Okay,” you sigh, accepting the acoustic guitar Jennie hands you. “Let’s give it a shot.”

“It takes a stupid amount of effort to wake you up,” Chan sighs as he drags Chaeyoung forward by the elbow. Usually, the guitarist would protest a little more, but for once, she’s glad for her bandmates complete inability to go to sleep.

“So... why exactly are you waking me up at midnight? After exactly 15 minutes of sleep?” the girl groans, head lolling back. Chaeyoung hasn’t slept in 36 hours, solely sustained by energy gels, cigarettes, and Chan’s battery-acid coffee, and has absolutely no idea where her bandmate is dragging her to.

“... Johnny will explain it to you. You’ll probably take it better from him anyway,” Chan answers slowly.

She recognizes the creaking noise that she hears when Chan pushes open a door, though, and squints suspiciously. “Why are we back in the stadium? And why are you carrying our guitar?”

Now that her eyes are open, Chae can see the sweat beading on Chan’s temple as he carries both guitar cases on his left arm, dragging Chaeyoung along with his right, and she lunges to take her most prized possession from him. He dodges, and cajoles her, “Just let Johnny explain. Okay?”

She finds Mina, Jaehyun, and Lisa gathered below the stage with their manager Johnny and a stranger, a pretty albeit tired-looking woman smiling apologetically when she spots Chaeyoung. And on the stage sits four people who she’s avoided for a long time-- specifically, you right in the center, with your back turned to her as you explain something to your own bandmates. “What’s this about?”

“Chaeyoung! Hi, my name is Jisoo,” the woman introduces herself, holding her hands out in greeting. “I’m Bloodbath’s manager. We- well, the band- have a huge favor to ask of you guys.”

“Their instruments don’t work with the sound system,” Johnny intercepts. “And they want to know if they can borrow yours. One drum set, a bass, an electric guitar, and... four mics. Is that right?”

Jisoo nods vigorously, and pleads, “Just for today and tomorrow, then we’ll be out of your hair. We heard that the system here is bad, but not this bad. We’ll return everything in perfect condition, promise.”

Chaeyoung glances at the others. Mina shrugs and says, in that soft-spoken way of hers that won’t let anyone disappoint her, “We all said yes. It’s up to you.”

She’s almost about to say yes, when she feels a specific pair of eyes lingering on her. “No.”

The crushed look on Jisoo’s face almost makes her feel bad, as does the unsurprised twist of Jaehyun’s lips and the apologetic glance that Johnny casts. However, she hears from the stage, “What is your problem?”

“Excuse me?” Chaeyoung answers, switching her incredulous gaze to you, standing at the edge of the stage with your hands on your hips.

You gesture wildly at your bandmates, and exclaim, “You can’t just lend us these? We said we’d pay, and it’s not like we’re going to smash them! I swear, you Sydney College people are so pretentious, can you not be a little bit generous?”

“She knows your music school?” Lisa says dubiously.

The two of you say at the same time, with almost identical levels of anger, “We went to the same university.”

“And she,” Chaeyoung continues with a point in your general direction, “sabotaged my graduation performance.”

“I did not!” you yell. Someone places a hand on your shoulder, a heavily tattooed guy with a gentle expression that doesn’t match his intimidating appearance. You sigh. “I swear, I didn’t. And even if I did, that was five years ago. Just... pretend I’m not here, and lend us the stuff. Please.”

Chaeyoung opens her mouth to argue with you again, but realizes just how immature she seems. The only other boy on stage, a short kid with round cheeks and fluffy blue hair, looks so exhausted, and so does the girl pinching her eyebrows with the mic still in her hands. “Okay,” she finally says, and hears a quiet cheer from the tattooed guy. “But I want to stay for the rehearsal.”

You say, “What?!” at the same time as the guy says, “Yes! Yes, absolutely.”

The two of you exchange glances, Chaeyoung waiting with her arms crossed, until you roll your eyes and nod. “Thanks,” you mumble.

Mina pats Chae on the shoulder. “Hey. Don’t you need to sleep? You don’t even like their music, why are you staying for the rehearsal?”

“Minari. I love that guitar more than anything,” the Australian girl answers, with every ounce of seriousness in her body. “I’m not letting anything happen to it.”

“Suit yourself.” Contrary to Jaehyun’s dismissive tone, his eyes linger on Chaeyoung as he leaves, Chan following suit with a soft touch to her arm. Johnny stays to negotiate with Jisoo, the two of them trailing backstage, which leaves Chaeyoung to board the stage with her precious guitar in hand.

You don’t say anything as you take the case from her, with enough gentleness that she can’t say anything about it. “Is it tuned?” you ask without raising your head.

“Yes. Not a scratch,” Chaeyoung warns, watching you sling the faded canvas strap over your neck.

When you don’t respond, your members take it as their cue to introduce themselves. Tattoo guy raises his hand with a smile, already seated at Mina’s drum set. “I’m Jeongguk.”

“Jisung,” the guy holding Chan’s guitar says, tying his hair into a ridiculous bright blue ponytail. He looks a bit ridiculous in a giant sweatshirt and oversized guitar, platform sneakers disguising his height, but Chaeyoung passes on a comment.

The other girl smiles, eyes crinkling like a cat’s. “My name’s Jennie. Thanks for the equipment, by the way.”

“Sure.” Chaeyoung steps down and take a first-row seat. To your credit, you aren’t intimidated at all by her-- you take your position at the left of your diamond formation, strumming a few soft chords out of the guitar.

“Mic, one two,” Jennie says, and holds up a thumbs-up for Jisoo, who’s popped out to check on the equipment.

Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, but Chaeyoung jumps when you shred the first note, a screeching G flat kicking off the start of the song as Jeongguk starts. And oh, god, she’s never heard a song like this from her own equipment.

And Jennie’s shouting out a line that perfectly emphasizes the grit to her tone, the notes floating weightlessly over Chaeyoung’s head as Jisung plays a gorgeous series of bass notes that Chae wishes she thought of first.

You only sing when the chorus needs a little extra kick to it, but the pink-haired girl swears that she only hears your voice. It hasn’t changed much since all the times you rivaled each other in the school showcases, but your demeanor has-- you’re no longer shy, gripping onto your scratched blue guitar for dear life. Instead, you’ve come alive with the heavy strums of Chaeyoung’s guitar, your smile glittering brilliantly under the hot stage lights and your head bobbing with the beat in tune with Jeongguk’s.

The guitar barely seems like hers anymore-- the shiny black of it, so lovingly polished, matches with your leather boots, the shape of it perfectly fitted to your hands splayed over the strings. 

She hates how raptly she pays attention, only waking up when the song ends and Jisung whoops loudly, hands held up in the air with a wide smile that shows all his teeth. “Let’s go!” Jeongguk yells too, hoisting his drumsticks up in victory.

The Australian girl hopes that the darkness of the audience is enough to cloak her as she gets up silently, taking the moment where you and Jennie’s backs are turned to talk with the two guys.

Your voice rings in her ears, and your smile aches in her heart.

“Jisung, can you go, like, the slightest bit higher on that note?” Jeongguk asks over lunch, staring intently at the phone cupped in Jennie’s hands.

“Yeah. You could probably do it if you tried, though,” Jisung sighs, chin cupped in his hands. You know that he doesn’t mean anything by it-- he knows that the drummer is making a perfectly good point. “Why don’t you take over my part in Mamma Mia tonight? Just the one song.”

Jeongguk shakes his head immediately, stuffing his mouth with a piece of bread like he tends to do when he doesn’t want to answer. Jennie sends Jisung a not-so-subtle frown, and the youngest protests, “I’m just saying! Jeongguk can sing circles around me, around all of us. No offense.”

“None taken. But you should drop the subject,” Jennie says, and you nod in agreement. “We only have one drummer.”

“Y/N can play the drums.”

“A little bit,” you sigh in exasperation with a shake of your head. “C’mon, we have a show in half an hour hours. Let’s stop.”

Jisung finally shuts up, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork. You roll your eyes and rewind the practice video. “Do you guys think that harmony was bad?” you ask when it comes to a specific part in the bridge.

“No, it’s fine,” Jennie shrugs. Jisoo pops her head in and beckons with her hand, the cheers of the crowd already gathered in the stadium making it through the crack of the door. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Drinks after?” Jisung suggests, and you nod.

The stage lights hit like the sun intensified by ten times, but you wave even as your eyes adjust slowly to it. “Hey guys!” Jeongguk shouts, waving both his hands.

You open your mouth and raise your mic to echo his greeting when you realize who’s lingering right about the front. It’s Chaeyoung-- you can tell even over her black mask and beanie. Her eyes flick up from her guitar, hanging around your neck, to your face, a dispassionate expression on her face.

The show goes well enough, you suppose; the crowd is hyped enough to ask for an encore, and Jisung manages to persuade Jeongguk to join the part-switch. Your fingers tap on your thigh, unoccupied as you fumble with Jennie’s lyrics, the other girl laughing as she taps out the most basic of beats. Jeongguk gives up on the guitar and focuses on Jisung’s high note (which, you have to admit, does suit his voice better).

But your eyes are always drawn back to the girl watching you from the audience. You point the mic into the audience but stare at her, and only manage to tear your eyes to interact with your members.

She’s gone by the time you say your goodbyes, bounding down the stairs with the biggest grin you’ve had in a while. “Why don’t we do this more often?” Jisung laughs, still bubbling over with energy.

“We’d die,” you deadpan, but you can’t tear the smile off your own face, either. You examine the guitar in your hands. “How much do you think one of these costs?”

“2.6 grand,” a voice answers. You look up to find Chaeyoung herself, hands stuffed in the pockets of her hoodie, mask removed to reveal a makeup-free face that looks more like the one you remember from school. “I’ll hook you up with one if you like.”

“I don’t think I make that much revenue,” you laugh, embarrassed. “You probably do, though.”

Chaeyoung joins your little quartet as you make your way to the equipment room. “What makes you say that?”

“We’ve been to your shows,” Jennie answers, glancing over. She’s untying the elaborate plait in her hair, struggling until Jisung rolls his eyes and reaches over to help. “Cost an arm and a leg, even though we were sitting pretty far away.”

“Your tickets aren’t exactly cheap either,” Chae points out with a small smile on her face. “Thank god Jisoo let me in.”

“What’d you think?” Jeongguk asks.

She considers the question, then answers, “You should sing more. I like your voice, even if it isn’t super rock-suited.”

“See!” Jisung exclaims, and Jeongguk ruffles his exquisitely styled hair. “What’re you doing backstage with us, though?” the bassist asks, glancing over at the pink-haired girl still strolling by your side.

Chaeyoung sighs. “I... have a favor to ask.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh. Do tell.”

“Shit.”

You sink into the couch, head in your hands; you aren’t sure if it’s bad that Chaeyoung doesn’t even smile at your torture. (She’s supposed to be your rival, after all.) “I forgot to change my email in the database,” you groan, the heels of your hands digging into your forehead.

“Well, that’s your fault,” she says, lips twisted, and you glare at her.

“Didn’t you come here to ask for my help?”

Chae sighs out through her nose, conceding the point. “We’re supposed to perform.”

“And, what? You’re here to ask me to perform with you?” you ask incredulously. “I thought you hated me.”

“I do. And that’s why I’m here to ask you not to perform.”

Your jaw falls slack in pure shock; as much as Chaeyoung hates you for your short-lived rivalry in music school, you never held a grudge against her for all the usurped opportunities. In school, you thought she was nice, in fact, and just assumed that she was intimidated by you or not social. But after your debut, and all the times she refused to even clap or smile at your performances, you realized that it was all wishful thinking.

“Shut the fuck up,” you say on instinct. “No. I won’t just not perform at my own goddamn reunion. Park Chaeyoung, I am going to show you the fuck up at that show, and I am going to show everyone that I am better than you.”

Chaeyoung shrugs, and rolls her eyes as she gathers herself to her feet. “Suit yourself. And by the way,” she calls over her shoulder, “your voice crack in Sweet Chaos was pretty bad.”

You slam the door after her.

Jeongguk frowns at you disapprovingly as you do your best at replicating Jennie’s puppy-dog eyes. “Why me?” he whines, his new lip ring shifting as he matches your pout.

“Because you’re a really good singer!” you smile, batting your eyelashes. “And you’re hot! All the girls are going to be swooning over you. I want the social advantage of bringing the hottest possible duet partner.”

“They’d swoon over Jisung too. Probably more so over Jen,” he points out.

You wave your hand in the air. “Jisung’s too young for them to swoon over.”

“He’s in his twenties.”

“And three years younger than everyone there,” you continue, as if Jeongguk never talked at all. “And Jennie’s too hot.”

“Thanks,” he says sarcastically. “Your point?”

“My point is that I want you to come with me. C’mon, don’t you want to not drum for once? You love all those ballads, come and play them with me in front of a bunch of people who are going to fall head over heels for you,” you plead. 

Jeongguk huffs out a breath. “What if we rapped?”

You blink. “What?”

“What if we rap?” he repeats. “We’ve never rapped in any of our songs. We could do, like, Trivium or something if you really want a shock factor.”

“Both Jen and Jisung are better than us at rapping,” you point out.

Jeongguk waves it away, and says, “Then you ask one of them to do it with you. But rapping would be a huge shock, if you really wanted to wow Chaeyoung and our fans.”

You scowl. “Who said I wanted to wow Chaeyoung? There’s, like, thousands of people attending the damn thing.”

The eyebrow that serves as your only response aggravates you enough to smack him over the head. “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying,” Jeongguk hums, flashing you the sweet smile that contrasts so much with his all-black attire and the tattoos you can’t even count anymore. “You could also just bring all of us and make it our concert.”

“No, all of you are coming no matter what. I’m a celebrity,” you drawl sarcastically, slinging an arm over the drummer’s shoulder. “But you aren’t getting a drum set if we all perform together. You’re singing.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes and shoves you off playfully, getting up from the couch to pour out some more honey tea for your throat. “Yeah, yeah. When is it?”

“That’s... the thing. It’s next week,” you smile weakly.

He whips his head to you, eyes wide. “What?!”

Mina shakes her head when Chaeyoung holds up a pair of excessively ripped tights, pouting her lips in disapproval. “Are you trying to scandalize your entire class?”

“We were music students,” Chae deadpans, but picks a different jacket.

“That’s better. What are we performing again?”

The Australian girl purses her lips and says first, “I’ll tell you, but you can’t judge me. I have my reasons.”

Mina raises an eyebrow. “Okay...?”

“We’re playing Love Me or Leave Me. By Bloodbath.”

“Oh. Oh, no,” the drummer says immediately, sitting up and staring at Chaeyoung with an incredulous expression on her face. “I thought you hated Bloodbath! Besides, that’s not our concept and you know it, I don’t even know if we can pull that song off.”

Chae holds her hands up in surrender, pleading, “Hear me out! The notes aren’t too bad, and Lisa says she’s already learned the entire bass part for fun. And Chan’s been dying to do a rock song, and I’m sure you can do it. We’re gonna go viral.”

“Is that your only motivation for singing a song by our rival?” Mina scrutinizes Chaeyoung, her uncanny ability to read her bandmates’ thoughts shining through her usually mellow eyes. “No. You want to show everyone that you’re better than Y/N, don’t you?”

“So what if I do?” The pink-haired girl crosses her arms tight and avoids the other girl’s eyes; truth be told, she hasn’t even told Chan what’s she’s planning to do, knowing fully well that he’s going to psychoanalyze her even harder than Mina is. Jaehyun doesn’t really give a shit, nor does Lisa; it’s these two and their mothering tendencies that worry her.

But Mina blows out an exasperated breath, and concedes, “It’s your reunion. I’ll start practicing on the trip home.”

“Thank you!” Chaeyoung grins, exhilarated.

She’s determined to prove that it’s a good idea-- to her members, to her fans, and more specifically, you. Chaeyoung is determined to prove that she’s always going to win.

To be completely honest, you can barely believe how quickly the week flies by, a whirlwind of no sleep and staying up late to rehearse your parts with Jennie and Jisung. 

“Hoseok sunbaenim must never breathe,” Jisung complains, bending over after spitballing half the verse in one breath. 

“Hey, I got Yoongi’s parts. Yoongi,” Jennie repeats for emphasis, drumming her fingers on her mic as she tries to return her heartbeat to normal. She glares at Jeongguk in the corner, who declined to perform after all, despite assigning you the most difficult Trivium song he could find. 

 “You suit his style,” Jeongguk shrugs by way of explanation, an infuriating grin on his face as he twirls his drumsticks. “Jisung’s young, too, so he has the energy for Hoseok’s verses.”

Jisung scowls. “I’m 21.”

“Whatever.”

“Guys, guys. Do we have outfits picked?” you ask, partially to break them up and partially because you only just remembered the detail.

“Aren’t we just reusing our black suits from last year’s AMAs performance?” Jennie asks, frowning.

“Oh. Yeah.”

Lifting his head from where he squats on the floor, Jisung calls out, “Don’t be nervous. We’re gonna be great. I bet half of your classmates have already been to one of our shows, anyway.”

You roll your eyes but don’t try to argue, rehearsing the mic flip movement that you’ve tried too hard to mess up. “Okay. We’re still going to the open mic after, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk confirms, holding his thumbs up. “Let’s do this.”

“Chaeyoung!” Jihyo exclaims at the entrance, bounding over with her characteristic huge grin and a warm hug. “You came!”

“Of course I did, I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Chae smiles, patting Jihyo’s back. She only has good memories with the other girl from school-- the two of them collaborated on so many performances that all made #1 that it’s hard to not remember her well. “You coordinated?”

“I sure did,” Jihyo nods proudly. She glimmers all over with her subtly glittery jumpsuit and not-so-subtle eye makeup, gems shining at her ears and in the dip of her collarbone. “I can’t believe how many celebrities have come. Including you. Cha Eunwoo is here!”

Jaehyun, behind Chaeyoung, lets out a small “whoa”. “Anyway, I won’t keep you. Come on in, I look forward to your performance! Your equipment is all backstage, if you want to check it.”

The five of them head in as one tightly knit cluster, all of their jaws dropping at the beautiful venue, glistening with sheer streamers flung all over and violet LED lights illuminating the stage that serves as the centerpiece of it all. Indeed, Chaeyoung recognizes many faces, not just from school, but from the silver screen or from various music award shows. There’s one face that she doesn’t spot, though, and she just assumes that you’re running late. Like you always have.

Chae turns to find Jaehyun already enthusiastically talking to Yugyeom. Lisa has disappeared into a throng of the Loona members, Mina sneaking back out to talk to Jihyo, and Chan-- Chan’s with a squirrel-cheeked boy, talking enthusiastically about some Trivium song.

The pink-haired girl’s eyes narrow. If she isn’t mistaken, that’s Jisung from Bloodbath-- which means that you have to be around here somewhere.

“Looking for me?”

Chaeyoung hates how quickly she turns around, but she almost gives herself whiplash as she shifts her gaze to you, looking excessively smug in your dark makeup and impeccable outfit. “No,” she hisses.

“Sure, sure,” you smile, taking the seat beside her without being invited. “Fun being back here, huh? Minghao flew all the way in from China. Remember that stage we did against you guys?”

“That was 5 years ago,” Chaeyoung rolls her eyes. “You haven’t won against me outside of school.”

“Sure,” you shrug, then lean in with a knowing look in your eyes. “You’re still pretty bothered by things that happened five years ago, though.”

Before she gets to respond with something that probably wouldn’t help her case by much anyway, Jihyo clears her throat on stage, waving for everyone’s attention as the spotlight shines on her. To Chaeyoung’s dismay, the table that the two of you share is filled up by all of your members, minus Mina. “-- and welcome to our reunion!” Jihyo cheers, the first half of her statement having been drowned out by Chae’s own thoughts. “And because we are former music students, and most of us are now accomplished musicians in our own right, we’ve asked a lot of you to prepare a stage with any of your guests. So, first... A.C.E?”

You cheer and clap when Chan and his members step up (why did you never cheer like that for Chaeyoung?) and lean back to enjoy the performance. Your eyes never stray to Chae even once, which she only knows because she still can’t tear her eyes away from you.

A surprisingly small amount of people actually sign up for a stage (though Chaeyoung bets that more will step up for casual reunion stages later), and before she knows it, Chan is tugging her backstage to start prepping. “You okay? You look a little out of it.”

“I’m fine,” she smiles tightly. She thinks of making you stare at her, wide-eyed and jealous, or even just with awe shining in your eyes. She thinks of your hands on her guitar, so much better suited than hers ever were, of your voice singing all the lines that she’s about to usurp, of your condescending grins all those times you won against her. 

But all those thoughts disappear as soon as Chaeyoung steps up and takes her spot right in the center, her eyes trained right on you and the smirk that tells her, “I’m watching.”

And she starts to play.

“It's all up to you. I have no choice but to watch.”

You almost spit out the soda that you just gulped down when Chaeyoung’s voice first floats into the audience; or more specifically, her voice singing your part in your song. 

Those chords sound again, those oh-so-familiar chords from months and months of composing and practicing, strummed by Chaeyoung on her acoustic guitar as she continues your verse. “Whether to finish it or not, it's all up to you now.”

“Wow,” Jisung whispers beside you when Jaehyun continues with his verse, crooning into the mic with a pretty dimpled smile. You only nod to agree with your bandmate.

It’s your song, that’s for sure-- it’s Love Me Or Leave me, just a bit more upbeat, with less emphasis on the drums than Jeongguk would use. (You don’t know how Mina managed to get a drum set in.) But it feels different to see someone else singing it, someone who’s claimed to hate your band and your music for years-- someone who’s claimed ot hate you.

Maybe you’re imagining it, but after every few passes over the crowd, Chaeyoung’s eyes settle on you. Her hair settles over her eyes, gleaming a bubblegum color in the yellow light as her voice soars, hitting every high note effortlessly. “I've endured it for quite a while, the coldness in your eyes and words.”

You finish each lyric in your head, and you can see Jennie mouthing along with an amazed expression on her face. Jisung claps his hands silently, Jeongguk unconsciously drums on his own thighs; you’re rapt with attention, and maybe just a little bit of an unexplainable feeling twisting in your stomach.

“That was L0VES1CK, performing Love Me or Leave Me by Bloodbath! And, what a coincidence-- Y/N, lead guitarist in Bloodbath, has a performance scheduled as well,” Jihyo smiles, beckoning you. “We’ll check in with Bloodbath after two more performances.”

You get up, numb, Chaeyoung’s voice still lingering in your head, her eyes still on you. And on a moment’s impulse, you tug Jeongguk to his feet as well, ignoring his surprised stare. “Change of plans,” you mumble.

Chaeyoung’s nails break skin about halfway through your first verse. She’s not imagining it-- you’re staring right at her as you belt, “Your bullet bullet bullet, I’ll take it anytime if this is what you want~”

It makes it worse to see Lisa cheer when Jennie starts her part, to see Chan raise his hands to encourage Jisung’s killer riff. Even Jaehyun and Mina cup their hands around their mouths and whoop from time to time-- Chae has to admit that it’s your best song to perform to date, engaging enough to make every former classmate in the room stand up and yell the lyrics.

“That’s even better, it's too familiar now. If this makes you feel better, just shoot me.”

You scrunch your face up playfully as you interact with Jennie, picking a stunning series of notes in tune with her chorus. Jeongguk goes so hard that Chae isn’t even sure that the drumsticks will survive the night.

Does she look like that? Does she look like you? Does L0VES1CK look like Bloodbath, their junior of two years when they perform? Because as she watches, Chaeyoung doesn’t even remember the exhilaration she felt when she herself was standing up on that stage.

She manages to stay seated for the entire song, but as soon as you strike the ending chord and crouch down, laughing despite all your breath having escaped you, Chae gets up and slips through the door. No one notices it, anyway, and she plops down on the side of the curb and flicks her lighter on again.

Ribbons of dark gray smoke float through the void of dark sky outside, a ring of red lipstick remaining on the cigarette. Chaeyoung coughs, then grinds it to ashes under the heel of her boot; she doesn’t want to leave too much of a smell.

“Since when do you smoke?”

“Since L0VES1CK debuted,” she answers drily, knowing fully well who’s coming to sit next to her. You hold your hand out, and Chae bats you away. “I’m not enabling you.”

You roll your eyes and bring your knees up to your chest. “You guys did good, you know. I haven’t heard such a good cover of our song yet.”

She casts a surprised glance at you after the compliment. You aren’t meeting her gaze, but you always did have a problem with complimenting anyone other than yourself. “You think so?”

“I mean, yeah. You are still our sunbaes,” you answer with a small smile. “Those two years really show.”

“In our exhaustion, maybe. You guys are so energetic. Makes me feel old.”

“We’re the same age,” you scoff. You lean back, palms pressing into the rough concrete; if you squint enough, the swirls of smoke almost look like clouds. “You know, you’re going to ruin your voice if you keep at it.”

Chaeyoung raises an eyebrow. “What, smoking? Since when have you cared? I’m pretty sure it’s better for you if my voice is ruined and I can never sing again.”

Even she winces at the bitterness in her voice. “I mean, our bands aren’t so much rivals anymore. Did you see how excited Jisung was when you guys sang our song?” Shaking your head fondly, you sigh, “I wish I’d picked one of yours.”

“Oh, yeah? What would you have done?”

You consider the question, then answer softly, “I’ve always had a soft spot for Rooftop. Jennie loves Moonshot, too. You know, I wasn’t originally planning on Shoot Me.”

“That explains the lack of backtrack. What’d you replace?”

“Ddaeng. By Trivium, I don’t know if you know them?” you ask, glancing over.

Chae rolls her eyes and laughs, “Who doesn’t know Trivium? Best day of my life was when Namjoon presented an award for us. I didn’t know you could rap.”

“I can’t really,” you say dismissively. “It was just for fun. But I thought Shoot Me was going to be a good response to Love Me or Leave Me. We are a rock band, anyway.”

She doesn’t respond to that, and you let out a breath. “You know, I never thought you hated me in school. I do now, of course.”

“You do?”

“How can I not? I mean, you literally said, and I quote, ‘Bloodbath is a bunch of wannabes, especially the lead guitar. Her voice is really nothing special.’“

Chaeyoung winces. “Yeah. That was immature.”

“That was an understatement,” you snort. “But I never hated you. I wanted you to like me, you know. I thought you were so cool when I transferred in, and I thought you’d like me more if I proved to you that I was just as good as you.”

“You’re better,” she says quietly.

“What?”

The pink-haired girl presses her lips together in a thin line before repeating, “You’re better. You always have been.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to our names on the leaderboard. We tied so much,” you smile nostalgically. “It was so exhausting, though.”

Yet again, you surprise Chaeyoung. As far as she can remember, she’s never seen you cry-- she’s only seen your triumphant, sometimes sardonic grin when you win, your stone-cold promises that you’re not going to fall. Without her prompting, you continue, chin cupped in your hand, “I just wanted to be as good as you were. You... you’re so talented. I think I knew that as soon as I heard you sing for the first time. All I had was that wish to be up on the stage like you, even if my hands were too dumb to handle my guitar like you did, even if my voice was too ordinary to make you notice me. All I had was effort, but no matter how much of it I had, it didn’t equal your talent.”

“What’s talent without effort?” You turn to look her in the eyes, surprised at the new tenderness in her eyes. Chae sighs. “As soon as I saw you, I found a kind of... hunger in you. It scared me, because people with the kind of drive you have surpass talent so easily.”

“So you hate me... because you were scared of me?”

“I don’t think I ever hated you,” Chaeyoung admits. I think I always wanted you to like me too is what she doesn’t say, but you accept her closing statement and stand, brushing your hands on your jeans before offering to pull her up. 

It’s not that easy, to overcome all the resentment she’s built up over the years against you, so brilliant and so strong even if it wasn’t what you really felt. But for once, that hot hatred is gone from her chest, no longer pumping through her blood into the hand that holds yours.

Chaeyoung can count on one hand the hours of sleep that she’s gotten by the end of the week. Between rehearsing endlessly for the reunion and then for the last two shows of the tour and texting you in all her free time, the guitarist is basically living off of her will alone.

And, of course, there’s the constant insecurity weighing on her mind that maybe she’s not cut out for this life anymore. After 5 years of L0VES1CK, maybe Chae finally needs a break, needs some time to nurse that “talent” that you tried to convince her has always shined in her eyes.

Nonetheless, she’s beaming from ear to ear as she steps off the stage, tearing her in-ear out so that she can wrap her arms around the necks of Lisa and Mina. “That’s the end!” she cheers, and Chan raises a fist with a tired smile.

“30 shows. I am so tired,” he groans, rubbing the back of his neck. “What are you guys doing once you get home?”

“I have a date,” Mina says, blushing immediately when her bandmates turn to look at her in shock. “It’s nothing! Just Jihyo,” she insists, but the giddiness to her voice betrays her.

Chan sighs, cupping his face jokingly. “You and Chaeyoung? I was planning on going home and writing a new song.”

“It’s not a date,” Chae protests on impulse, earning an eyeroll from everyone else.

“I have one,” Lisa says, cackling when Chan turns a betrayed gaze to her. “I’m going to Jennie’s show. How about you, Chae?”

“I’m... not going to do anything related to singing,” she answers honestly. She’s a bit self-conscious as she says, “I’m just a bit burnt out, you know? My voice... the show hasn’t been kind.”

“Oh, of course,” Mina nods, squeezing her shoulder. “Maybe a break would be good for all of us. Let’s postpone the next practice for a month?”

Chaeyoung opens her mouth to agree, but notices that one of their five is missing. “Guys. Where’s Jaehyun?”

As if he’s been called, Johnny appears out of nowhere, with an uncharacteristically grim set to his jaw. “Guys, come on in. We need to talk.” The four walk in like ghosts, doom already pressing down on their mood even as they know nothing of what’s to come. 

Jaehyun avoids their eyes as he says quietly, “I’m leaving the band.”

Despite knowing that it’s not the right time, Chae’s eyes open wide, and she practically shouts, “What?”

“I just... I wanted to tell you guys for so long. But we scheduled the tour, and I thought I could do it, but... I don’t think this is the right path for me anymore,” he whispers softly. 

It feels like someone’s just sucker-punched Chaeyoung in the gut; as much as she loves all her members, Jaehyun is the one she started with. He’s the one born barely three days later than her, the one who busked with her despite going to different colleges, the one who came up with the idea to start a band at all. Never did she think that he’d beat her to the chase, and never did she think about continuing the band without him.

Tears are already slipping down Mina’s face, but she’s holding her tongue. Chan’s face is hidden in his hands, and Lisa has buried her face in his shoulder just so that she doesn’t have to look at everyone else. 

Chae whispers, “Jaehyun... please think about this. We can’t continue without you. We always said we were five, right? Please. We can take a break, we can, uh, stop taking tours for a moment, we can switch genres. Anything.”

It takes a moment for her to realize that her voice has risen, and Mina is crying harder. But she needs to be angry, someone needs to be angry. Chaeyoung can’t bear the sight of everyone only crying, of no one doing anything to keep themselves together. She’s reaching out and she’s shaking Jaehyun, and no amount of rage can keep her voice from sounding robotic.

“I’ll think about it,” he promises, and Chae almost cries out of relief. “But. I can’t promise how long it’ll be.”

“We’ll wait. Okay?” Chan says, even though his own voice is thick with tears. Jaehyun nods and wipes his face aggressively in his sleeve, and Chaeyoung steps back to let Mina have her turn at hugging the pianist.

One step back turns into ten, and then she’s out of the room, sinking to the floor just opposite of the door. God, Chae is crying so hard that she can’t breathe, and her hands are shaking as they reach towards her back pocket. Her fingers are stuck between the cigarette box and her car keys, between paper and metal, between warm and cold.

Her fingers wrap around the keys, and then she’s running again.

“Oh my god! Are you Y/N Y/L/N?”

You smile, cringing inside as the fan holds a phone right in your face, her eyes shining brilliantly. “Yeah. Yes, I am.”

“You’re so gorgeous!” she screams, jumping up and down. If there wasn’t a countertop between the two of you, you think that she’d try to hug you or something similar. “Is Jeongguk here? Can I get a picture with him? Can I get a picture with you? Do you work here all the time?”

“Uh, no. I’m just working here today as a favor,” you lie, “and sorry. I’d rather not take pictures today. Jeongguk isn’t here either.”

Her enthusiasm dies immediately. “What’s wrong with a simple picture?” she asks, growing angry.

You refrain from saying that she’s been recording this whole time, only smiling tightly. Before you can even settle on what to do, though, you here a deep voice rumbling behind you. “I’m sorry, but if you aren’t going to order, I’ll have to ask you to leave. I don’t tolerate harassment of my employees, temporary or not.”

She scowls and tosses out a “fucking bitch!” as she leaves, and you sigh in relief before turning to Felix, whose face has morphed back into a sunny smile again, and Changbin, still scowling. You can always rely on Felix’s (overtly) deep voice to save you, and you’re sure that Changbin’s gym-trained muscle doesn’t hurt either. “Thanks, guys.”

“Anytime. Seriously, though, when you said you were in a band, I didn’t think you were that famous,” Changbin complains, turning back to the sink he fiddles with. “Jisung was bad enough in our underground days, and now we’re here.”

Felix laughs, high-pitched and happy, as he returns to his mop. Before long, the door jingles again, and you duck under the counter without another thought, leaving Changbin to stare incredulously down at you. “Uh. Is Y/N here?”

At the familiar voice, you bolt up again, turning around immediately to find a red-eyed Chaeyoung waiting for you. Your eyebrows knit together in concern. “Chae? What happened?”

She huffs out a breath, running her hands through her hair. She looks post-show, glittery tear tracks running down her face and studded boots still on, and you recall that she did have a concert not even an hour ago. “When do you get off?” Chae asks.

You raise an eyebrow at Changbin, who rushes to open the door for you. “Right now,” you say boldly, and take her by the elbow. “Are you okay?”

“I’m... I don’t think so,” she admits. It’s been a while since you’ve seen her-- the two of you were tentatively scheduled to go for coffee on neutral ground this weekend, but you’re more focused on being there for her while she needs it. “We’re disbanding. L0VES1CK, I mean.”

“What!? Why?”

Chaeyoung shrugs, having been successfully manhandled into the backseat of her team van again. “Jaehyun. He... he founded the band with me, and he wants to leave the band. I persuaded him to take a few months to think about it, but I feel like we’re over. Which is stupid, because I wanted to take a break too, but not like this.” She draws in a breath, and whispers, “Not like this.”

You place a hand on hers, a sad sigh leaving you lips. “Chae. It’s okay. You can feel bad about it even if you wanted to take a break too. Look... I don’t know Jaehyun very well, but I get the feeling that he really cares about you guys. I don’t think you’re over just like this.”

She stares at you through black-rimmed eyes, and you continue, “You’ve been working nonstop for five years. Maybe... take this as a blessing in disguise, right? Rest for the few months he needs, and keep checking in. You guys are still friends, he’ll either come back or tell you why. And you’ll feel better when either one of those happens.”

“What if he doesn’t come back?”

You shrug slightly. “Then he doesn’t. But you’ll still be friends, and you’ll figure out how to keep the band going if that’s what you still want. Do you still want to be in L0VES1CK?”

Chaeyoung nods. “Yeah. I really, really do. I’ve never known anything other than us, but...”

“But?”

“We’re not doing that well,” she says quietly. “Even as friends. We all feel kinda distant, especially me. And it’s my fault, because I insisted on being enemies with you for so long.”

Raising your eyebrows, you point at yourself. “What does being enemies with me have to do with it?”

“I mean, Lisa and Jennie are dating. Chan and Jisung used to rap together, and everyone else is on good terms. I was trying to pull them away because you made me insecure,” she confesses. “I did it all.”

“You did not do it all,” you respond, a bit forcefully. “Look, maybe your relationship is strained. But that doesn’t mean it’s unfixable, and it doesn’t mean it’s because of you. You guys love each other, a hiccup doesn’t just end that. You... okay. Here, I’ll drive you home, and then we’re going to watch some movies and forget about this for now. And then you’re going to talk rationally with them tomorrow about what to do,” you explain, unbuckling your seatbelt so you can move to the front.

Chae exhales shakily and squeezes your hand one last time before letting you drive. You turn the radio on, something cheesy and from the 2000s, and sing just a little bit, and Chaeyoung wonders how she could’ve ever hated you.

Somehow, Chaeyoung sleeps until noon, lulled to a kind of comfort that she hasn’t felt in all her years of tour bus beds and hotel rooms. The curtains are still drawn when she shuffles to the window; the reality only hits when she’s blinded by a bright white beam of light and a view that she doesn’t recognize.

In the sunshine, your room is much more apparently foreign; the bed is pushed up in a corner instead of in the middle, the walls covered in pictures of you and your members and posters from various tours. Chae barely suppresses a smile as she opens the door, poking her head out.

Unfortunately, the door opens right into the kitchen, where you stand, examining a packet of noodles suspiciously. “You’re awake,” you say dumbly. “Uh. How’re you feeling?”

“Fine, I guess.” Chaeyoung closes the door behind her quietly. There’s still a palpable awkwardness between the two of you now that she isn’t choking on her own tears and you aren’t being forced to console her; the guitarist supposes that all the years of enmity can’t be solved with a quick confession of long-standing crushes. “Are you making breakfast?”

You shake your head. “Lunch.”

She frown and runs a hand through her hair; belatedly, Chae realizes that the product from the last night’s concert is still stuck there, even if she did manage to remove her makeup before falling asleep. “Was I asleep that long? Sorry.”

“No, you’re good. I hope you’re okay with ramen, though, I forgot to go grocery shopping,” you smile, embarrassed.

Chaeyoung shrugs, “It’s fine. I can’t really cook either. Uh, could I use your shower?”

You nod and point down the hallway; Chaeyoung realizes that you must’ve slept in the couch, since the tiny apartment has exactly one bathroom and a room she occupied. Noting her imminent apology, you grin, “You can borrow more clothes of mine if you want. It’s kind of hot to see you in them.”

She grimaces, even though she doesn’t really mind. “I’ll put on yesterday’s, thanks. I should be getting home, anyway.”

“Alright. You can camp out here if you want to avoid them, though,” you say through a mouthful of chips, suddenly back to being thoughtful.

Chae glances back at you with a frown creasing the space between her immaculately done eyebrows. “How much did I tell you?”

“Enough.” You shrug, then say plainly, “I don’t hate you enough to broadcast your inner circle shit, though. I can promise you that.”

Instead of responding, the pink-haired girl fidgets with the jacket in her arms and asks, “You don’t mind if I stay here for another day? Just one.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face, lingering there for what Chaeyoung considers to not be enough time before you turn to work with your stove. “I don’t. I do have to supervise an open mic tonight, though, so you’ll kind of have to go if you’re intending on staying with me.”

“That’s fine. I hope there aren’t any cameras in the bathroom, or I’ll sue you.”

Your cackle echoes after her, later drowned out by the roar of your furnace. Chaeyoung lets herself crack a small smile before closing the door in on herself yet again.

As it turns out, your definition of letting Chaeyoung stay with you is ordering her around and sending her on errands until you’re ready to leave for open mic night. However, the guitarist can’t say that she hates it, even if she complains and tosses plastic bags at your head every chance she gets; maybe you know that she’d only feel worse if she were to lounge around at your expense.

She drives you to pick your car up at Changbin’s cafe as agreed, then follows you to the bar at which open mic night is being hosted. By the time she steps out of the car, you’re already conversing with a tall guy with a kind smile at the entrance.

Chae’s intercepted by a pretty guy barely taller than her, with a suspicious look on his face. “Sorry, but open mic night hasn’t started yet.”

“Minho, let up. She’s with me,” you call, and Chaeyoung tries to disguise the pleasant buzz she feels at the phrase. “Chaeyoung, this is Seokjin, he owns the bar. He’s friends with Jeongguk.”

Chaeyoung shakes hands with Seokjin and then with Minho, who’s now adopted a more pleasant smile. Again, you’ve started talking about all your plans for the event, your tone business-like and your expressions just as animated as when you’re performing; you disappear to take care of something eventually, leaving Chaeyoung at the bar with Minho, who makes nice enough conversation that she doesn’t really mind.

And eventually, people start to straggle in, the guitars slung over their backs or the crumpled papers in their hands making their purpose quite obvious. Jisung and Jeongguk join Chaeyoung at the bar, and she finds that she actually quite likes them, with the weight of your rivalry off her back.

She’s never really gotten the chance to just be there, not the center of attention or not struggling to keep her friend group together. Conversation is light and easy when she doesn’t know the people well, and with the various performances that start lining up, Chaeyoung finds a relaxation that’s begun to become foreign to her. 

“Hey, guys. How is everything?”

Jisung smiles and offers you a fresh beer. “Great. You’re really good at this organization thing, Y/N.”

“Do you do this often?” Chae asks, sipping at her own specialty cocktail. “Like, on your breaks?”

You shake your head, “We don’t really take breaks, but we don’t work as much as you guys do either. I’ve just started to do this stuff after Jisung introduced me to it and Jeongguk took me to this bar. I think it’s nice, to watch young people sing like we used to.”

“We’re in our twenties, Y/N, we’re not in the senior home,” Jeongguk snickers. He glances over at Chaeyoung. “Are you going to perform today?”

She shakes her head, a familiar tightness settling over her chest again. Thankfully, you intercept, “If she did, she’d never leave the stage. We’d only want to hear her sing. Hey, Chae, would you mind coming outside with me to pick up some cookies from the bakery? It’s just a few blocks.”

The guitarist takes the opportunity gratefully, stepping out with a cursory wave to Jeongguk and Jisung. “You okay?” you ask, once you’re in the cold night air again. “You looked a little overwhelmed.”

“I’m surprised you noticed. But I’m fine.”

You laugh slightly, “How could I not? For, like, the eight years that we’ve known each other, you’ve only ever looked overwhelmed or angry around me.”

Chaeyoung winces, and you sigh with a wave of your hand. “Sorry, I don’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“No, no. It’s the truth. Us saying that we just wanted to be liked doesn’t make it go away,” she sighs softly.

Suddenly, you break from the cobblestoned path in the plaza, leaping towards a lamppost just a few feet away. Chaeyoung realizes that you’re reaching into your pocket and pulling out a flyer, advertising your next album showcase. “Already?” she asks.

“Mhm. Jisung churns out songs like it’s nothing, and we just try to have fun with them,” you shrug, twirling around the lamppost with your head tipped back. It doesn’t snow in winter, so maybe Chae is just imagining the bokeh that float around your head. “You okay? You’re out of it again.”

“Hm? Yeah. I was just... just thinking. What did you mean when you said that you wanted me to like you?” she questions on impulse.

You blink, surprised, and come to a stop. “I mean, you were the cool star student, of course I wanted you to like me. I wanted you think I was talented.”

The disappointment that courses through Chaeyoung’s body is honestly kind of stupid. She doesn’t know what she expected, and she smiles; she can’t deny that she did feel the same way. “Just that?”

“Well. No. I had, like, the tiniest of a crush on you throughout school,” you shrug. The shiftiness to your gaze betrays that you aren’t as nonchalant as you’re trying to seem. “Went away after I thought you hated me. Sorry.”

“Right. But you... you wanted to date me? In school?”

You smile, amused. “Yeah. That’s what a crush usually means.”

Chaeyoung swallows, hard. It doesn’t make sense-- why is this so hard? Why is everything so hard when it comes to you? “How about now? Would you- would you still go on a date with me now?”

Of course, you don’t make it any easier, coming to a stop and leaning against the lamppost with your hands in your pockets. “Ask me and see.”

She steps forward, then back, then forward again. It’s a stupid little dance, but one that you anticipate, judging by the way that you tilt your chin up and stare at her. So, before Chaeyoung can chicken out again, she steps up on the base of the lamppost too, presses you flush against it, and captures your lips with her own.

You smile and cock your head slightly to fit a little closer together, as if you always knew how to do just this. As if you had always been waiting to do just this.

Chaeyoung wakes up at seven in the morning to the frantic buzzing of her phone. In her daze, she notices that she’s in your bed, and she’s alone; the door to the bedroom is cracked open so that she can see you sleeping soundly on the couch, the curtains drawn so that you’re still in total darkness.

After a thought, Chae picks up on the call. It’s Lisa, though everyone including Johnny has tried to call her already. “Hello?” she whispers.

“Chae! You’re okay!” the girl says, a bit too loud for a phone call.

“Yeah. I am. Sorry for making you all worry, I’m at Y/N’s place. Um... we should talk.”

Lisa agrees, “We should. We’re all still at the practice room, so we’ll wait for you.”

Chaeyoung hangs up at that, getting out of bed as quietly as she can and arranging your comforter so that it’s neater than she found it. A small pang of guilt touches her heart when she realizes that she’s going to leave without an explanation, but Chae knows that you and your budding relationship are both better off if she settles things first.

She drives with a clear head now, even managing to hum to Jihyo’s song on the radio. (She makes a mental note to text her friend and compliment her, maybe even ask for a collaboration.)

Miraculously, the record shop that they usually practice in is already open, a few hours early; Chaeyoung realizes that her members must have stayed there overnight, hoping that she’d return to her old favorite stop.

Indeed, the store smells lightly of coffee, the lights in the back studio on and soft chatter trailing down the hallway. Lisa spots her first, and rushes to hug her tightly. “You’re okay,” she says, despite having already confirmed it.

“I’m sorry,” Chae whispers again. 

Eventually, she pries the bassist away from her long enough to join the other members in the studio. Mina, Chan, and finally Jaehyun all offer her hugs, quietly telling her how worried they were. Chaeyoung’s heart aches that she concerns them so much now, and she tells them that.

Chan waves it away with a forgiving smile, despite being the youngest out of all of them. “It’s okay. We’re your bandmates, and it’s our duty to worry about you.”

“Yeah, but... how long are we going to be bandmates?” The others all stiffen at that, and Chae clarifies, “I’m worried for us. I don’t... I don’t think any of us want to do this without one of us, even if we aren’t that close anymore.”

Lisa folds her arms, and shrugs, “I think a break could be good for all of us. But I don’t want to give up.”

“I don’t either,” Jaehyun finally says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry you all thought so. I love L0VES1CK, it’s just been 5 years of nonstop working and performing.”

“I agree,” Chaeyoung nods, and all eyes turn to her.

“You do?” Mina frowns. “You were the one who was always adamant on continuing.”

The pink-haired girl shrugs, a bit embarrassed. She sighs, “It was... partially because of Y/N. It was horrible of me to drag you all into it, but I thought that if we always kept going, I’d be able to beat her someday. It wasn’t a competition at all, was it?”

They all shake their heads, and Chae continues, “If I’m being honest, I’m tired too. But we’re going to be friends even while we’re taking a break, right? However long it takes.”

“However long it takes,” Lisa agrees, and holds her hand out with the beaming smile that’s been missing for a while. “One, two, three!”

Everyone flings their hands up into the air with huge grins on their faces, laughter echoing in the room that minimizes the effect of the dark circles under their eyes. Just on time, Chaeyoung’s phone rings again, and she greets cheerily, “Who is it?”

“Well, don’t you sound chipper. It’s Y/N. Judging by your voice, everything is all good again, so I’m happy,” you hum over the line. “I’m just calling because my members and I are going to get breakfast, in case you want to come. Jisoo’s going to be there too.”

The guitarist raises her eyebrows at everyone else. “How about all of us?”

“-- and then Chaeyoung tells me, while crying, that Y/N took her second choice song,” Jaehyun finishes, laughing hard when you turn an incredulous look to Chae. “Seriously! Her second choice!”

“What if I wanted to switch?” Chaeyoung defends lamely, only earning a louder round of laughter from the eight others seated around the table. The food is practically finished, only Jeongguk still picking at a sundae, and it makes the guitarist uncannily happy to see everyone seated together and grinning at the stories.

“I think Y/N told me about this!” Jisung exclaims, sitting forward conspiratorially with his elbows on the table. You hide your face in your hands already, and Jennie grins brilliantly. “She said you were hot when you were angry, but she knew she would’ve been penalized for picking your first choice, so she picked your second to see if you could punch her. And, I quote, “I would’ve paid her to step on me.’”

You smack him, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, but the rest of the table isn’t nearly so considerate. Lisa and Jisoo are cackling, Mina’s eyes bugging out of her head as she tries to hide her laughter, and Chae is staring at you with her jaw dropped. You manage to say shakily, “I was being honest, okay? And I never thought he’d get the chance to tell you!”

Jisung grins and holds up peace signs, and you throw a french fry at him. “Jaehyun, please tell me you have an embarrassing story,” you plead.

Chan raises his hand, but thinks better of it when he checks his watch. “Actually, I think Mina has to get going.”

The drummer raises her eyebrows, then bolts up. She smiles apologetically, “I forgot I had a flight. I’m going back to Japan to visit my family while we’re on break.”

You collectively wave, then Jennie raises her eyebrows as she turns back to the table. “You guys are on a break?”

Chaeyoung nods, not bitter for what just might be the first time in the past five years. “Yeah. It’s about time, I think. Besides, knowing Chan, he’s going to ask us to record a demo every other week.”

Said producer rolls his eyes but can’t deny it, and you sigh with your chin in your hands. “Jisung doesn’t even ask us to record demos. He just does it all himself.”

Jeongguk raises an accusing fork. “You should’ve heard the time he tried to record a drum solo himself. He did the snare part on the bass drum with his foot.”

It’s the youngest’s turn to cover his face at that, shoved back and forth by Chan and Jennie on either side of him. “What’re you planning for your break?” you question Chaeyoung.

She shrugs and smiles, “Go out with you, of course.”

“On a date?” Jisoo suggests, raising her eyebrows. Leveled with two glares, she holds her hands up in surrender. “We’re all tired of seeing you pine, so just do it.”

Chae hesitates to answer the question herself, and she glances over to you. However, her gaze isn’t met; instead, you squeeze her hand under the table and say, “Then it’s a date. If it’s okay with you.”

“Are you kidding?” she asks incredulously; your face falls. Grinning, Chaeyoung presses a kiss to your hair and sighs, “I didn’t try to catch your attention for eight years just to say no.”

Lisa yells out loud, waving her hands in the air like Chaeyoung just said something utterly ground-breaking, and everyone plays along with it except the two of you. But you exchange a smile, one that you think was really, truly, worth all the effort and rivalry. “We’re probably going to continue with our tour again, though,” Jeongguk says, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Hey, we should do a joint tour sometime.”

Chan raises his eyebrows, evidently intrigued. “Joint tour?”

“Yeah, we just do two or three songs at a time and a few together. It’ll make for a longer show, and fans can see us both at the same time,” the drummer answers with a shrug. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea,” Jisoo replies, evidently surprised.

Chaeyoung nods. Even though the idea of going on tour again seems far, far away, especially with the break that they’re all supposed to be taken, she doesn’t hate the idea of it so much when she considers the idea that you’re going to be there with her every step of the way. “Sounds nice,” she smiles. “After your actual tour, of course. When does that start, again?”

“Probably in a month or so,” you shrug, then flash another secretive smile. “Plenty of time before then.”

The pink-haired girl lets herself blush now. “Yeah. More than enough.”

Chaeyoung fiddles with the lighter in her hand as she watches the staff load your suitcases onto the bus. She remembers the contents of all of them-- after all, she was the one that helped you pack. (Well, really, she just distracted you with glee-dizzy kisses while you stumbled over the suitcases.)

“Hey,” you greet her from behind, kissing the top of her head. The pink has faded away in the past month to a peachy blonde, dark roots streaking down almost artistically. “What’re you doing just sitting here?”

“You have to pay me to make me move things for you,” Chae grins, despite knowing that it wasn’t what you meant. She finds you staring at the lighter in her hand, at the white spot in the center where her thumb rests, and pockets it. “I wasn’t smoking. The lighter is a force of habit.”

“Okay. I believe you.” You peck her cheek again before stumbling off and shoving your duffel bag into the side of the bus again, bowing quickly and thanking someone before joining Chaeyoung again, hand clasped in hers as you grin at her. “Apparently, all of our shows got sold out.”

“That’s awesome!” she says, just the slightest bit surprised. “Did you settle on an opening act for NYC yet?”

You nod and lean in closer, whispering, “You won’t believe who it is.”

“Who?” Chae asks, pressing your noses together with a small laugh.

“Trivium.”

She outright gasps and almost bumps your faces together, drawing back just in time. “Seriously?”

You nod, giddily, and clap your hands together. “Just the one show. But, you know, we are missing an opening act for all the other shows.”

“I thought you didn’t need an opener for all of them.”

“Mm. We don’t. But I bet our fans would die to see us together,” you suggest, glancing over at her with a small smile creeping onto your face. “We can sneak in a little rendition of Love Me or Leave me, get the old rivalry going again?”

Realization dawns on Chaeyoung’s face, and she points at herself. “Me? Y/N, is this your not-so-subtle way of asking me to join your tour?”

“Yeah. But only if you want to,” you add. “And you don’t even have to sing if you don’t want to, you can just be my groupie.”

She shoves you. “Hey, I’m the sunbae here. Show some respect.”

You giggle and catch her hands in the middle of yet another halfhearted attempt to push you away, then capture her in a kiss; her hair falls in a pretty, pink-tinted golden curtain over the two of you. “Is that a yes?” you whisper.

“Yeah, Chaeyoung. Is that a yes?”

Chae glares jokingly at Jennie, who stands in front of the two of you with her hands on her hips and a knowing smirk on her face. “It’s a yes,” the guitarist decides, and you cheer. “I’ll go on tour with you. But just so you know, we’re still doing a proper joint tour eventually, Johnny and Jisoo are already planning it.”

“Oh, for real?” Jisung pops out of a different bus with a big, excited grin on his face. Chaeyoung still hasn’t quite gotten used to his enthusiasm, even if she can appreciate it a little more on her worse days. “Cool!”

“Mhm. We have about an hour before leaving, if you need to get anything,” you tell your girlfriend, squeezing her hand to catch her attention. “There’s space in my luggage carrier, if you just want some clothes and stuff.”

The pink-haired girl rolls her eyes as she stands, and tells you, “I’ve been touring way longer than you, I know what I need. I’ll get my lucky guitar and be back, okay?”

“Okay. Come back soon!” you yell at her retreating figure, cupping your hands around your mouth so that you can be heard across the parking lot.

“Man, where do I get a relationship like that?” Jisung sighs behind you.

You turn and grin at him, flourishing your hands in the air. You’ve truly never been happier, and you think it shows on both your and Chaeyoung’s faces. “Ç 'est la vie, my friend.”

He scowls at you and hits you over the head with a setbook. “Stop flexing on me. What’s it mean?”

Wiping the smallest bit of lipstick off your face, you only smile. “That’s life.”

[sunmoonandeddie]

and he kissed me right here

pairing: modern!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6,100

summary: I've always been sure that all I ever wanted was a glamorous life.

warnings: Cuss words, mentions of the Afghanistan war (Bucky is a veteran), angst, happy ending, cheesy romantic confessions, age gap

a/n:  This is based on the song 'Stars and the Moon' from Songs for a New World! It's the first one shot in my musical series! This is written in first perspective, but there is no physical description or use of a name in this!

Twenty-Two

I sighed as I tossed a few more dirty plates into the dish window, wiping my brow. After a shitty dinner rush and an even shittier rush around two in the morning consisting only of drunk ass college kids looking for some sort of carb to suck up all the alcohol in their systems, I was ready to go the fuck home.

“Sweetheart, you head on home now,” the head chef insisted as he watched my head nod slightly as I tried my best to fight off sleep. “Ain’t nobody comin’ in before Melissa gets here. No point in you staying on your feet any longer.”

Louis was a godsend. At sixty-seven years old, you’d think he would rather be anywhere but a diner at almost four in the morning.

“Nah,” he had said when I’d asked him a few months after I’d first started. “My Ginny died a few years back, and since she’s been gone, I don’t really have the stomach to sit around that house all alone.” He had laughed, but there’d been a deep sorrow that had come over his deep brown eyes. “Kids are worried, but… Sleeping the day away is better than laying up at night staring at her side of the bed…”

“You sure, Lou?” I asked even as I headed for the back room where all the employees clocked in and kept their possessions in their own little cubbies. I did my checkout in view of the security camera, just like always. I didn’t want anyone to be able to say I stole anything.

Everyone who knew me knew that I wouldn’t, but I’d worked at two many places where the girls tried backstabbing each other and sabotaging everyone else to get them fired.

Though people were a lot nicer in Louisiana than any of the other places I’d lived.

Louis chuckled as he set a to-go box in the window, nodding towards it. “Mmhm. Long as Buck is getting you home safe.”

I gave him a joking eye roll as I took the to-go box gratefully, grinning at my name written in all caps with green Sharpie on top. “You know you don’t have to make me dinner every night.”

“Yes, I do,” he said, shooting me a look. “How else do I know you’re getting enough food in you, huh?” He pointed his rag at me. “Now you go ask him to get you home. Tell him I said he can clock out, and that he’s supposed to text me when he sees you safe inside. You better not say you’re gonna ask him again just to walk yourself home.” The old man shook his head as I headed for the back door, muttering to himself, “Damn girl thinks I’m gonna believe she’s feeding herself good enough when she’s risking her damn ass walking home alone.”

Despite the fact that I’d put off asking for Bucky Barnes’s service, I really did appreciate how fiercely Louis cared about me.

It had been a real long time since anyone had cared so much.

I hesitated at the back door of the diner, my hand resting against the cool metal.

What if he said no?

Granted, he most likely wouldn’t. But what if he said yes, and he secretly thought me some dumb little girl that couldn’t take care of herself?

What did I care if he thought that?

“I don’t care what he thinks of me,” I huffed as I straightened my shoulders, holding my chin a little higher.

“Stop talking to yourself and get going!”

I jumped in surprise, before shooting a glare in the direction of the kitchen. “Stop listening in on my private conversations!” I demanded before storming outside with new found vigor.

Only to freeze when Bucky looked up from where he was sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette.

God, he was handsome.

“You okay, doll face?” He asked, his New York accent a sharp contrast to the southern drawls you were used to.

“Um… Y-Yeah,” I said faintly, glancing back at the door that I’d come in from. “Um… L-Louis wants me to ask you… Can you walk me home? Or give me a ride? I don’t… I don’t know if you drive…”

“I do drive.”

“O-Oh. Okay. Great.”

“But I don’t have my car on me.”

I peered at him curiously. “Oh. Um… I can just walk by myself. I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna be a nuisance…”

He stood up, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. “Don’t be ridiculous, darlin.’ Come on. I’ll walk you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he began to head for the street. “Besides… It’s a real nice night.”

“Oh…,” I said in surprise at how ready he was to be of service. “Okay. But only if you’re sure.”

A faint smile graced his lips as he glanced at the ground, letting out a faint chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. “I’m sure, darlin.’ But you gotta lead the way.”

I was surprised by the rapid pitter patter of my heart beat as we walked side by side down the street, the chorus of ‘Yellow Brick Road’ getting stuck in my head on a loop.

Bucky was an enigma that I found myself wondering about more often than not, but I always ended up talking myself out of going there. After all, he was an older man. A much older man. At least fifteen years older than my own twenty-two years, or something along those lines, not that he looked it. The man looked like some kind of rugged Greek god. Like Hades if Hades was born in the eighties. His dog tags clinked together under his shirt as we walked, his metal prosthetic glinting in the moon.

“So how did you end up in NOLA?”

It took me a moment to even realize that he was talking to me, my heart skipping a beat and my face going hot in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked.

His bright blue eyes flickered over to look me over. “How’d you end up in New Orleans?”

“I actually don’t know,” I snorted, avoiding his eyes as I kicked at a few broken up pieces of asphalt. “I just… Picked a bus ticket and ended up in one of the Carolinas. Then I picked another bus ticket and ended up in Minnesota. And then I picked another, and another, and another, and then I actually just… ended up here.” The months I’d spent alone on those Greyhounds felt both so long ago and also like it was just yesterday. “The diner was the first place someone recommended for food that’s good but cheap, and as I was eating my mountain of cheese fries, I saw the flyer that said they were hiring. So here I am now…”

“Huh,” he said, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t take you for the type of person to run off on your own… riding buses all over the country…”

Head tilting to the side, I gave him a long look. “You didn’t? What kind of type did you peg me for?”

Bucky gave me a long look, a single brow raised as though silently telling me that I jumped to conclusions. “Just that jumping from place to place can take a lot outta someone,” he said slowly, his voice low and soothing. “Hell, if you were my girl—” He broke off as his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, his long hair falling in his face.

I swore my heart had stopped inside of my chest, and I swallowed thickly around the lump in my throat. “Oh?”

He rushed to try to correct his wording. “I-I just mean, a lady should be comfortable. And if I had a g-girl like you, well… You’d never want for anything,” he stammered, stumbling over his words like a flustered school boy. “Hell, I… I’d give you the stars and the moon…”

I was shocked into silence, staring up at him like he was the sun itself. “Bucky…”

“No, no, don’t say anything. I… I know that was a lot,” he insisted quietly, unable to meet your eyes as he stared up at the shitty apartment building you called home. “Hell, you probably don’t want a gross old man hitting on you.” His metal hand, glinting in the low light of the street lamp, reached up to brush against my cheek for just a moment before it quickly dropped. “Just let me walk you home each night so I can make sure you’re safe, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I breathed out, unable to take my eyes off of him as he took a few steps back.

There’s a somewhat playful smirk on his lips as he watched me stumble up the steps, continuously glancing back at him. “Goodnight, baby doll.”

“Goodnight,” I said, barely audible before I finally headed inside.

Bucky kept his word. He walked me home every night, and honestly, there wasn’t a moment that I wasn’t thinking about what he had said, about if I was his girl.

What if I was his girl?

But… with that meant I’d have to give up the life I’d dreamed for myself. I wanted luxury, to never worry about bills or where I was gonna get my next meal or if I could afford to buy the nice work shoes or if I could only get the cheap ones that would fall apart in three months and then I’d just be right back where I started.

I wanted the life that celebrities lived. Hell, I wanted to go to parties on the same yachts the Kardashian-Jenners did, even if I couldn’t fucking stand them.

And with Bucky… I wouldn’t have that.

“So why’d you go on the run anyway?” Bucky asked one night as we sat on the curb, eating ice cream in the Louisiana heat. “I know you told me how you got here, but you’ve never told me why.”

“You’ve never told me how you ended up here or why either,” I shot back, nudging his shoulder with my own.

Somehow the age difference seemed non-existent as we sat there. Honestly, I felt like we were just a bunch of dumb teenagers, shooting the shit and enjoying each other’s company.

Bucky took in a deep breath, his shoulders sinking in a way that made it look like he had all the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I was over in Afghanistan for a long time,” he admitted quietly. “When the war first started, I was 19. I had no idea where my life was going and I had no options except my dad’s mechanic shop. So I enlisted with my best friend, Steve. The one I told you about.”

It’s completely silent except for the sound of an occasional car horn off in the distance.

“Neither one of us knew what we were doing. We realized very quickly that we had no reason being over there, but… but there was nothing else,” he said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. The ice cream he was holding was melting in his trembling hands. “I didn’t know how to do anything else, so I stayed. Steve moved up in the ranks, but I stayed pretty low… I didn’t mind. Kinda liked being the older guy all those young kids could talk to, could rely on… Because they were just like me, getting into a fight that wasn’t theirs because they had nothing else.”

My heart was shattering inside my chest as I scooted a little closer, my knee knocking against his as I tried to give him some sort of silent comfort. He’d been through Hell and made it through.

Bucky let his head rest against mine, his eyes closing as he breathed in the scent of my perfume. “They eventually moved me to some kind of specialized team… Called us the Howling Commandos. I found out that Steve was heading it and he picked me to be part of it. That’s how I met Sam, because he was on some sort of similar team with the Air Force, except it was just him and his friend, Riley,” he continued, taking a bite of his chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. “I am proud to say that I didn’t kill a single person while I was over there. I just couldn’t. Hell, they’re people just like me, terrified and unsure of what’s going to happen.” His lips pressed against my forehead, letting it linger. “But then about five years ago, I was on a mission with the Commandos, Sam, and Riley, and… this bomb went off while we were playing a game of soccer. I wasn’t even in a fight. That thing took my arm and it took Riley.”

Tentatively, I let my fingers find his, holding his hand and squeezing reassuringly.

“Sam decided to come home with me.” There was a forlorn look in his eyes, as though he was right back at that game of pick-up soccer. “After losing Riley… he couldn’t find a reason to be over there. And then Steve decided to stay, and hell, he’s still over there, leading that fucking team…” Glassy baby blue eyes finally found mine, the both of us doing our best to not cry. “I couldn’t face my family for a long time, so Sam asked me to come stay in Louisiana with him and his family, and I haven’t left since.”

“Have you gone to see your family?” I asked slowly, almost like I was scared I’d frighten him if I spoke too loudly, like a wild animal. “Let them know where you are? That you’re safe?”

He turned to look at me, his baby blues shining. “You worried about me, baby doll?”

“I can’t help it,” I said honestly, unable to tear my eyes away. I hadn’t opened up to someone like that in so damn long. “I can’t help but worry about you.”

The way that I felt about Bucky absolutely terrified me, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. It snuck up on me, like a train coming around a bend.

I hated it.

“What do you want out of this life?” Bucky asked on one walk home, his arm linked in mine. He’d become so much more… tactile. If anyone took a moment to look at us, they’d think we were a couple on a romantic stroll.

Perhaps we were.

But I couldn’t help but grin as I looked up at the sky, taking in the warm air. “I wanna live like how the movie stars do… I want a big house on the beach and twenty cars and a yacht and… and…”

He looked at me long and hard. “And you never wanna have to worry about where your next meal is coming from, if you’re gonna have a place to sleep at night…”

For some reason, I’d felt a bolt of panic over whether or not he’d understand. Whether or not he’d think differently of me, but I should’ve known that he wouldn’t. Hell, he knew me better than anyone else.

“You understand,” I said quietly, my hand squeezing his bicep gratefully. “I want to live how the other half lives for once. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

A small smile graced his features as we shuffled along. “There isn’t. But… What about love?” He asked.

“Love?”

“Love.”

Love.

Could I even have love? Did I want it?

“I don’t know if there’s a lot of room for love in my plans,” I admitted after a long moment. “In my experience, love has always just been a lie. A word used to manipulate and eventually abuse.”

Letting out a snort, he let his fingers tickle down my tricep until his fingers intertwined with mine. “I’d show you it’s not… I’d show you what real love is,” he said. “I’d give you every part of me, give you all my strength to help you grow into who you wanna be, even if I don’t particularly care about being famous or rich…” He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “I’ll give you a love story, a life, that’s a million times better than any recycled Hollywood plot… I’ll give you the stars and the moon, if you would just let me.”

I hated the way that he made my heart beat faster, the way my breath hitched. “Jamie,” I breathed out quietly, the two of us having stopped in our tracks to just… take each other in. Live in each other’s presence for a moment. “I…”

“You want a big life… one a lot bigger than little old me,” he said simply, shrugging. His blue eyes were so honest, so loving. So warm. A warmth I hadn’t ever experienced before. “I know. But that doesn’t change that I’m in love with you. And if you ever change your mind…” Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, pressing it into my free hand. “This is where you can find me. I figure it’s time for me to go home.”

We’d come to a stop in front of my building, and I was shocked at how tight my chest felt. My eyes watered as I stared at him long and hard. “Jamie, please… I⏤”

“Don’t say it. It’s okay,” he insisted as he cupped my cheek, letting his thumb run over my skin as though he was memorizing it. “I just want you to be happy, darling. You got that?” His lips pressed to my forehead, letting it linger. “Go get that life you’ve been dreaming of.”

Twenty-Three

I left New Orleans the next day, grabbing a bus ticket after throwing all of my belongings into my old duffel bag. It was time to move on.

But God, did it hurt.

I didn’t stop crying for weeks, fighting the urge to go right back to Louisiana and tell Bucky to take it back, to get him to beg me to stay with him.

But what kind of life would that leave me with? Working in the diner day after day? Never getting anywhere?

But you’d have James, a voice inside my head reminded me snarkily.

Then again, he most likely wasn’t even in New Orleans anymore, if what he said was true when he gave me the business card of his father’s mechanic shop. Was he really planning on going home to New York City?

A few months later, and I’d worked my way all through the southwest to Santa Fe, where I met Pietro.

My heart was pounding as I pressed in the familiar numbers, having memorized them from the business card now soft and faded from how often I held it in my hands like a lifeline. “Come on… Pick up… Pick up…”

“Barnes Tires and Motors, this is George,” a man said in a gruff voice when he finally picked up. “How can I help you?”

“H-Hi, is James there? James Barnes? Bucky?” I stammered out, hands trembling so bad that the old payphone was almost rattling.

There was a pause, and then muffled talking away from the phone.

And then I heard it being picked up. “This is Bucky,” he said.

It felt like the wind had been knocked right out of my lungs. How had I gone so long without hearing his voice?

Breathing in sharply, I tried to figure out the words to say. But my throat was dry and it was like I’d suddenly forgotten the entire English language.

That was all that it took for Bucky to realize it was me. “Baby doll? Baby doll, is that you?” He asked quietly. “I…” He took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “You don’t gotta say a thing, sweetheart… But just know that if you’re in trouble or you need help or… or anything at all, you better call me…” His voice wavered, as though he was fighting tears just like I was. “God, I miss you so much, baby doll. I love you.”

I love you, too.

I hung up before I could actually say the words. “God, I’m so fucking stupid,” I whispered as I leaned back against the wall of the gas station I’d found myself at, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes.

My dumb ass had decided to wander from the bus station, and I’d walked over a mile away. Unless I was staying in Santa Fe for a bit, I’d need to start making my way back.

“You okay?”

In my distress, I hadn’t even heard the rumbling of the motorcycle or noticed the handsome man making his way to me. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I said even as I wiped my nose with a pathetic sniffle.

He eyed me for a long moment, his eyes roaming over my figure. “You hungry? I know a great little place nearby. My treat.”

And well, I was never one to turn down free food.

Even if that ‘little place’ ended up being a food truck.

“You know, when you said it was a little place, I didn’t picture it having wheels,” I said teasingly, licking salsa off of my lower lip. “Though, it is the best food I’ve ever gotten from a food truck before.”

“Oh, come on. This is the best food of all time!” He laughed, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I snorted, finishing off my flautas.

Pietro looked at me long and hard. “So, are you gonna tell me what the hell was going on to have a pretty girl like you all teary eyed?” He asked, his head tilting to the side.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Was this your plan all along?” I asked. Wiping my hands off on a napkin, I did everything I could to avoid his eyes. “Get me all fed and then question me?” But at the same time, the thought of being able to finally talk to someone about it was so appealing… After a long moment of hesitation, I finally gave in. “I fell in love with a man, and he let me go because he knew that I want a life he can’t give me,” I said. “And I was a bitch who didn’t even tell him I love him back when he said it to me.”

Pietro took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “Damn. You really are a stone cold bitch, aren’t you?”

“Hey!” I indignantly threw a chunk of tomato at him, glaring. “I just opened up my heart, you dickwad.”

“Dickwad?!” He said, blinking at me in shock. “No one’s ever called me a dickwad before.”

I raised a single eyebrow at him. “Maybe not to your face, but they definitely have.” He gave off the vibe of a fuckboy, of a really, really bad fuckboy.

“Well, since you’re running away from your feelings, how about you spend a week or two with me on the road?” He asked with a grin.

I couldn’t help but blink at him in shock. “What?” I let out a laugh, pulling one of my legs up to my chest. “Do you throw that line out to every girl you meet? Or am I just special?”

Pietro threw a chip at me, and I barely managed to dodge it. “No, I don’t. But… You remind me of me. Needing adventure. A life bigger than four walls and a fence.”

Instinctively, I wanted to snap back that sometimes, four walls and a fence could be an adventure, could be the biggest life there was, as Bucky’s face flashed across my mind.

But I couldn’t do that. Not when I wasn’t ready to face the truth myself.

“Come on, sweet cheeks,” he teased as his foot hooked around mine. “Just think of it. The open highway, a rhythm beneath your feet… Nights full of passion and days of adventure…” Pietro’s voice was deep and husky, as though he was trying to lure me in. “No strings… just warm summer rain soaking us to the bone before we find some cheap motel to huddle down in…”

Plastering on a smile, I stood up and brushed myself on. “Thanks, but… I’d rather be drinking champagne, and the quicker I get to LA, the sooner I will be.”

He let me go with a kiss on the cheek and his cell number pressed into my hand, with a promise to come and pick me up the second I rang.

And despite how sweet he was, how wild and funny and charismatic, there was only one man I wanted to call.

Twenty-Four

I sipped at my martini as I sat at the rooftop bar, absentmindedly watching the television that was mounted on the wall as people droned around me. I’d been in Los Angeles for a year, and I’d spent my time finding the best places to find a husband who could give me the life I dreamed of.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, it took connections to build a career, and the best way to get a foot in the door when nepotism was so rampant was by marrying someone in the industry.

My silk dress was the most expensive thing I owned, something I’d saved up for months for, had skipped meals for. And fuck, was it worth it. I could feel the stares, the lingering gazes on the little bit of thigh that was exposed by the slit in the dress.

I’d already turned away several men, able to tell just from their expensive watches and cheap suits and shoes.

It was amazing how all the up and coming finance bros thought they fit in with the truly big dogs.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.”

I turned to see who was speaking, my heart skipping a beat when I realized who I was speaking to.

The world famous (or infamous) director, Tony Stark.

“Hello, handsome,” I said smoothly, my lashes fluttering innocently as I took a sip of my horrible drink.

I fucking hated martinis. Always had.

But ordering a martini was more sophisticated than ordering a frozen strawberry margarita.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked as he motioned to the empty bar stool right next to me, even as he was already sitting down. “Let me buy your next round.”

“I can’t think of anything better,” I said, feeling as though my dream life was already in reach.

Twenty-Eight

“Tony, where are you taking me?” I laughed as I let my boyfriend lead me to the private dock at our Malibu mansion.

Well, his mansion. I just happened to also live there.

It had been a whirlwind of a year since I had met Tony, and he’d bought me that second round. He’d taken me all over the globe, anywhere my heart desired.

But I made sure to avoid New York City, though he never understood why. I would never tell him.

Not when I was so close to my dream. I could practically taste it.

“Come on, come on. I have a surprise for you,” he said, keeping his hands over my eyes. He was sure to keep me from tripping and busting my ass, thank god.

The ocean waves were so comforting as they hit the shore, a sound I’d gotten used to over the past year.

He finally brought me to a stop, quietly telling me to keep my eyes closed. “Okay,” he said finally. “Open them.”

My eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the bright light of the California sun. But I was more shocked by the sight of Tony on one knee in front of me, holding out a box with a sparkling diamond ring in it. “Tony?”

The ring was the size of a fucking meteor. It was easily the biggest ring I’d ever seen.

“You know, I never thought I’d meet someone like you,” he said quietly, his dark eyes shining. But his voice was steady. “Someone who understands me, who doesn’t expect me to change into someone I’m not. You accept me as I am, and that’s why I want to give you the world.” He couldn’t help but grin as he nodded to the right. “Starting with that yacht you’ve always dreamed of.”

I hadn’t even noticed that there were two yachts at his private docks instead of just the one. The new one had SS Princess emblazoned on the side, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh… Tony…”

“So, what do you say?” He asked, bringing my attention back to him. “Will you be my wife?”

“Yes.”

Thirty-Two

Swallowing nervously, I looked down at the business card in my hand for the millionth time, the stock paper soft from how often I’d looked at it in the past ten years.

Hell, just how often I’d looked at it in the past six should’ve made it fall apart by now. Not that I didn’t have it memorized.

I’d finally ended my marriage after being miserable for so long. I’d gotten my yacht, my fancy houses, my career, all the jewelry that I could dream of, and none of it made me happy. Tony and I… never grew. And I never dreamed. Every day was the same, and every day was torture as I realized that I didn’t have the one thing that actually mattered.

The garage in front of me was busy, music blasting and the sound of men shouting to each other as they worked.

Suddenly I felt absolutely ridiculous wearing a Chanel dress and Gucci heels, an Hermés bag on my arm.

BARNES TIRES AND MOTORS was lit up along the top of the shop in bright red letters, though the lights in the ‘r’ of ‘motors’ were out.

I felt like a fool. I had wanted the life I had so desperately that I gave up everything for it. I got the movie star life, my name on billboards and my face on magazines.

But it wasn’t ever enough.

My heels clicked against the blacktop as I slowly made my way towards the front area of the shop, bells clinging above my head to let them know someone was there.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” A man asked as he came around the corner.

He looked so much like Bucky, it punched the air straight from my lungs.

“H-Hi. I’m looking for James Barnes. Is he here?” I asked after a long moment of hesitation. There was no way that the man was Bucky, but I didn’t doubt he was related.

The man raised his brows, wiping his hands on a rag. “My son’s in the shop. I’ll take you to him.” His full head of hair was white, his thick facial hair matching. Even with all the wrinkles on his face, he was a handsome man. Holding open the door for me, he led me into the loud shop, some eighties rock song blasting over the speakers.

I couldn’t help but smile as ‘Rock You Like a Hurricane’ by Scorpions came on. It was one of Bucky’s favorites back when we worked in the diner together.

“BUCK! YOU GOT A VISITOR!” The man shouted, causing several people to look our way.

My cheeks felt hot as I avoided their gaze, hoping they wouldn’t recognize me. I didn’t want to be a famous movie star anymore, a celebrity that had to beg for scraps of privacy.

My mind went numb, my heart stopping inside my chest as he stepped around a gray Ford Escape another man was working on.

He was even more handsome than he was the last time I saw him.

“Can I help y—” He broke off, his blue eyes going wide when he realized that it was me. “Hi.”

All of a sudden, everything I’d planned to say flew out of my head. All of the eloquent words I’d strung together were gone. And I just proceeded to word vomit.

“Did you know that, uh, when you marry someone you’re not in love with, you won’t… you won’t grow into it?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Um… I married a man who could give me a life I thought I always wanted, and he just… sucked.” Eyes stinging, I fought back against tears. “And I thought that all I ever wanted was the life I have now, was the life movie stars and the Kardashians lived. But… But I hate it. I hated every second I was away from you.” I let out a weak laugh, unable to stop the tears. “I wanted to turn around the second I got on the bus in New Orleans, but my stupid stubborn ass didn’t. I should have. I should’ve gotten off and just run right back to you because I… I love you, James. I always have.”

The garage had gone almost deadly quiet, and my heart sank when I realized Bucky looked almost frozen in shock.

“I know that I shouldn’t have showed up like this,” I scrambled to say. “But I… I’ve been trying to get my divorce finalized for two years and I finally did, and I kept telling myself that once it was done, I’d never hold myself back from what I really want ever again. From who I want. If… If you want me.” My face felt like it was on fire, my hands shaking. I shook my head as I took a step backwards. “What am I thinking? There’s no way you’re not married. I… I’m so so—”

Before I could finish the word ‘sorry,’ Bucky had closed the distance between us, his hands cradling my face so gently. He held me like I was made of fine crystal as he kissed me. He kissed me like his life depended on it, like I was the one source of oxygen.

And I kissed him back just as fiercely. “I love you. I love you so much,” I breathed out in between kisses, unwilling to let him go as my Hermés bag fell into the dust and oil on the concrete below.

Bucky smiled into the kiss, his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me pressed to his chest. “I love you so much, darlin.’ God, I’ve missed you…” His nose nudged against mine as we finally broke for air, both of us breathing heavily.

My knees felt like Jell-O as I held onto him. His grip was the only reason I hadn’t fallen to the ground already.

“I’m sorry I was a dumb twenty-two year old,” I said, snorting as he stole another kiss.

“No… Don’t be sorry,” he insisted, his fingers massaging my scalp as our foreheads pressed together. It was like he was scared to stop touching me, like I would disappear at any second. “You were young… You had to go out and make your own mistakes… I’ve just been waiting for the day you were ready.”

All the years apart melted away and all that remained was the two of us, two souls so intertwined that there was no way to truly separate us.

Our lips were half molded together as I said, “I’m never leaving you again. I promise I swear on everything…”

My heart almost stopped inside my chest as I heard someone clearing their throat, looking to see Bucky’s father staring at us with his arms crossed over his chest. “M-Mr. Barnes, sir…”

He gave a crooked smile that was so reminiscent of Bucky that I couldn’t help but grin back. “The Mrs. will wanna know if you’re staying for dinner.”

“Yeah,” I said as I looked up at Bucky, toying with a strand of his hair. “That sounds perfect.”

Later that night, Bucky and I laid in his bed, a mess of bare limbs as his fingers ran up and down my back soothingly. “What do you want from this life, baby girl?” He asked absentmindedly.

Humming, I traced shapes on his bare chest, sometimes pressing a kiss to where his prosthetic met his shoulder, on the tender scar tissue. “You.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, despite the already mischievous look on his face. “Really? Not even the stars and the moon?” He asked teasingly.

I knew he’d give it to me anyway, give me all that he could. But I was sure now that the only thing I wanted from this life was his love. “Not even the stars and the moon.”

[zodiyack]

Rude! (3,000+ Follower Fic Special 1/3)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female!Hopper!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Billy stuff, lyrics, fluff

Song: Rude by Magic!

Words: 1,798

Summary: Billy's love for Hopper's daughter is too strong to be stopped by the tough Chief Jim Hopper. Despite being told "not in a thousand years", he plans to love her regardless.

Note: Thank you so so much! I love you all, and writing your ideas, as well as sharing mine with you, has been so fucking fun and amazing! I'm sorry for my lack of words, I wish being an author came in handy with writing this, however, all I can say is that I love you all from the bottom of my heart. I've seen people do shout-outs, and ask-related stuff with their follower things, and I may do that, I'm not sure. For now, I hope you enjoy this... Thank you all, again!

Also 1/3 means that there will be two other fics released for the 3,000+ follower present!

Taglist: @urie-bowie-mercury, @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @dpaccione

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

"Saturday morning, jumped out of bed and put on my best suit. Got in my car and raced like a jet all the way to you. Knocked on your door with my heart in my hands, to ask you a question, 'cause I know that you're an old-fashioned man. Yeah."

Billy was freshly graduated, working as a lifeguard whilst his girlfriend worked her own job, both saving up for their chance to ditch Hawkins and move to California. Sweet Cali. Billy was excited to show the love of his life around the place he called home. Though, physically, he left the salty ocean and windy beach behind, the place never truly left him.

You could see it in his eyes. The waves crashing in his blue orbs. He swore the scent had just barely clung to his belongings; the smell of the tangy air that followed a majority of the state. Working at a pool was the closest he got to the memory of California. Chlorine was most certainly not the salted ocean waters, but with the circumstances, he decided it'd do.

The way his face lit up whenever he talked about his home...it made Y/n more and more excited to see it. His girlfriend had grown up in Hawkins, stayed there her whole life. Never once did the Hoppers leave Hawkins.

But the second that was introduced to Billy, he knew it had to change.

Although they were saving for a big move, Billy had...other things in mind with what to do with his first large pay-check (or series, rather. Working as a lifeguard didn't pay well with just one check). He began to work more shifts to make up for the money he'd spent, and one day after calling in for a day off, he decided to put his plan into action.

"Billy, stop messing with the tie."

"It's annoying." Hands slapped away his attempts of adjusting the black silk tie.

"Well it won't stop being annoying if you keep fucking it up."

For the first time in a long time, Neil Hargrove was calm. Not happy, not amused, not pissed off for some unjust reason- just calm. He wasn't wreaking havoc and he wasn't being an asshole to his son. Billy hadn't seen this side of his dad in quite some time, in fact, he thought something important was going on and he was about to fuck it all up. And then, Susan retreated to the living room with a camera and a freshly ironed suit.

"You're not putting me in that."

"And who asked for your opinion?" Neil deflected with a raised brow. One heavy sigh later and Billy was leaving the bathroom, dawning the whole black and white getup.

Susan clasped her hands over her mouth, a tear leaving her eye, "You look so handsome! Just like your dad!"

Billy rolled his eyes, "Great."

However, his careless attitude was swept under the rug when the blue Camaro pulled up to the police station, interrupting a clearly distressed Chief Hopper bickering with his daughter. Billy had to get himself together before stepping out of the car, jaw slack after seeing the beauty he got to call his date.

"Hello Mr-"

"Don't even try play nice with me, Hargrove. She's not going anywhere with you. End of story." Hopper kept his eyes trained on the blond, body tense like a snake preparing to strike it's prey.

Y/n grabbed Billy's arm, slowly directing him to the car, "And in the sequel, we find out I am going with Billy. End of that story."

"There is no 'sequel.' The writer got drunk and lazy." She paused, turning to face her father who stood tall, arms crossed and face unamused.

"So his daughter picked up where her father left off, and then the sequel was published and the two lived happily ever after, the end."

While her dad attempted to search for a line that would better hers and force her to stay, she pushed Billy toward the driver's side and slid into the car as fast as she could, rolling down the window as Billy started it up. "Bye! I'll be back before midnight!"

The two drove off toward the school, leaving behind a trail of dust and very, very, pissed off Hopper.

Prom was better than Billy thought it would be. He didn't want to go at first, but after Max found out and spoke to her mom about it (the little redhead a cupid-in-the-making), Neil pushed him to go (as he was "doing something else besides being a lazy-no-good rebel"). It was then that he called Y/n and asked if she'd be going.

The suit came in handy. Clashing with his rocker aesthetic, he put it back on once more. The once-annoying tie proved to be somewhat okay in the end.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend, but the answer is no!"

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude?

With a deep breath, he ran-over the conversation in his head once more. Like a script for an actor, he had thought of every possible outcome and every possible line for him to face it with. He almost chickened out as his fist rose to the door, but it was too late, for his knuckles rapped against it before he realized he was even knocking.

El opened the door, eyes wide when she saw the familiar mullet and button-down. "Papa..." She muttered as she backed away and out of view.

Hopper traded places with her, his lazy expression sobering up instantaneously, replaced with a grumpy scowl. "Hargrove."

"Mr. Hopper, sir."

"What are you doing on my front porch?"

He swallowed roughly, palms sweaty against his sides. "I was wondering if I could talk to you."

"You seem to be doing just that right now, Hargrove." Hop crossed his arms and clenched his jaw.

Well, this was certainly not something Billy had thought of. He was on panic mode internally, attempting to find any response that could save his hide and accomplish what he set out to do. Unfortunately, the word-vomit button seemed to be misplaced under the button labeled "help".

"I'd like to marry your daughter, sir."

Hop's eyes grew just as big in size as El's had when she opened the door. He choked on his own surprise, coughing it off, then glaring at the boy in front of him. "Over my dead body, Hargrove. If that's all, I'd strongly advise you to get off of my fucking porch while you're still alive."

I hate to do this, you leave no choice; can't live without her. Love me or hate me, we will be boys- standing at that alter. And we will fly away, to another galaxy, you know. You know she's in love with me, she will go anywhere I go-

"Billy, he's just stubborn."

"No, no, I don't think he likes me."

Y/n sighed, rubbing her boyfriend's back. He hadn't told her of his proposal plans, only that Hop seemed to have it out for him. "It'll take time, but he'll warm up to you!"

"It's been how many years since he's met me?"

"To be fair, your reputation wasn't doing you any good until now..."

"It's not like that was fucking obvious." He slouched further down in the front seat of his Camaro. To Billy, all hope was lost. If he couldn't get Hopper to give him his blessing, he was sure he'd lose his goddamned mind.

Y/n frowned. Her frown flipped around as an idea popped into her head, her lips finding Billy's knuckles and quirking his attention. "Even if he never likes you, I'm not going anywhere."

Billy laughed softly, "he'll fucking kill me if you go against him."

"Eh, that's only if he can catch us."

"You're out of your fucking mind, Y/n Hopper."

"I know."

The rest of the night was spent in the Camaro, of course, doing one of Billy's favorite pastimes. By the time the sun rose, Billy was sneaking a kiss to a giggling Y/n before dropping from her window in the cabin and running to his car, parked far enough that Hop or El wouldn't notice. He blew her one more kiss, which she pretended to catch, then he broke into a sprint.

Maybe, he thought, just maybe; there was still a chance.

His knuckles hit the door again, shifting on his feet nervously. It swung open to reveal Hopper, an unimpressed look bringing no surprise Billy's way. It was quite expected, honestly.

"What." His tone made it clear he wasn't up for fucking around.

"Mr. Hopper, if you just give me one chance to prove to you that-"

"No, no, no, no, no. Let me make it very clear to you that I want you to have nothing to do with my daughter whatsoever. No marriage, no friendship, I don't even approve of you guys fucking or whatever-"

"We're in a serious relationship, sir. It's nothing like you think it is."

This made Hop laugh. He continued to do so, holding his stomach, until he realized Billy was unamused. "Oh, you're serious?... My answer is still no, Hargrove. My answer will always be no. Go find someone else's daughter's heart to break. You're not hurting mine."

"It's not like-"

Before he could even get the words out, he was met with a door in his face. Turned down, again.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend, 'cause the answer's still no!"

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude, rude?

Again, again, and again, Billy incessantly pleaded with Hopper. Different tactics were all met with the same answer; rejection.

He held up a sign outside the cabin, only for Hopper to close the curtain and chuckle as he sipped his coffee.

He asked at the door again, only for Hop to threaten to give him a black eye (which was met with "aren't you the sheriff? Isn't that illegal?").

He raced past the police station, Max leaning out the window with another sign, only for Hop to threaten them with holding cells.

He even went as far as to ask Max and El to help, but Hopper had none of that, and sent Max home with a rant full of nos.

However, if Jim Hopper thought any of it would get it into Billy's head that getting his blessing was just not happening- he was as wrong as Nancy when she claimed not to have feelings for Jonathan.

Billy had another plan in mind, and this one was impossible to say no to.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend- but no still means no!"

"Hopper." Billy stood before his desk, interrupting his nice date with a delicious doughnut, and earning a very annoyed glare. "I got Miss Byer's blessing. Aren't you two a thing?"

"You son of a-"

"I got Eleven's too."

"Hargrove, I'm gonna-"

"Before you cuss me out, I think you should know that I've got a stable job, an interview with a mechanic so I have a job when the pool closes for the winter, and I've got a house on the market I'm looking at. I'm devoted to your daughter and she's devoted to me. You may not like me, but I think you're a great dad, better than the one I was unfortunately stuck with. You raised a strong and amazing woman. She's incredible and I admit, she deserves better than me-"

"You don't have to say that twice." Hopper huffed, crossing his arms.

"I know she deserves so much better than me, I'm surprised she's even with me too. But she loves me, and I think you can see that. I love her too. I would never, in a million years, break her heart."

Jim stayed silent for a few minutes. The silence brought uneasiness to Billy, but that was intentional on Hopper's behalf. He finally piped up with a cough, clearing his throat, before his piercing eyes met Billy's blue orbs.

"I'll hold you to that, Hargrove."

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude? Why you gotta be so rude?

Bonus:

(after the wedding)

"What was that about a no?" Billy quipped with his infamous smirk.

"You're lucky I'm sheriff, Hargrove."

Why you gotta be so rude?

[triptuckers]

Jealousy, Jealousy - Kaz Brekker

Request: yes! ‘Can I request Kaz/reader where one of them is jealous, maybe an argument occurs but with a happy ending. If you’re okay with that. If not I understand. I love your fics though! You’re an incredible writer’ Pairing:  Kaz Brekker x reader Summary:  You got a member of the Dime Lions talking, and got some valuable information. But Kaz isn’t happy with the method you used to get the information Warnings: mild angst, mentions of alcohol, jealous kaz  Word count:  1.9K A/N: me using an olivia rodrigo song as a title? yea. enjoy reading! :)

On one of her nightly journeys through the city, Inej had found out the Dime Lions were planning on stealing an expensive necklace. It so turned out that Kaz also had his eyes on said necklace. And he didn’t like the thought of it slipping through his fingers. 

He figured out which member knew the most about the job, and needed to get him talking. Kaz only knew the week in which the necklace would arrive, not the exact date, or how heavily it would be guarded.

Kaz had sent Inej to figure it out, but even she came back empty handed. Luckily, you knew the club the Dime Lion member liked to go to. It had gotten you to where you are now.

You, Jesper and Kaz are currently looking at him sitting at the bar in the club. You’d been looking at him for a while, keeping a sharp eye on him. It was already clear Kaz wouldn’t be the one to go up to him. Anyone would recognise that cane, or his limp if he decided to go in without it.

 Jesper wants to go inside and get the Dime Lion talking, but you’re quicker, placing a hand on his arm and pushing him back.

‘This is a job for a lady, Jesper.’ you say.

You reach up and pull the ribbon out of your hair, letting it fall down your back. You then take off you coat and hand it to Kaz. Lastly, you unbutton a few buttons of your shirt and run a hand through your hair.

Before either of them can argue, you’ve waved at them, told them ‘wish me luck!’, and are headed into the club.

You walk up to the bar and take place next to the Dime Lion, careful to keep one seat empty between the two of you. You signal for the barkeeper and order your favorite drink. 

Just as you’re about to reach into your pocket to get some money, your target next to you hands the barkeeper some money.

‘On me.’ he says.

You flash him a warm smile. ‘Why, thank you!’ you say. Sometimes they made it almost too easy for you. 

The Dime Lion smiles at you and lets his eyes wander over your face. You have to physically hold yourself back not to punch him in the jaw. But you’re on a job. All you have to do is get him talking. And if he’s so willing to buy you drinks, it shouldn’t be hard.

‘What’s a pretty girl like you doing out all by herself?’ he says. 

‘Just going for a drink.’ you say. 

‘Care for some company?’ he says, pulling the chair next to him back.

‘Don’t mind if I do.’ you say, and you slide off of your chair to sit down next to him. He smells like alcohol and you guess he’s had a lot of drinks already, celebrating his success too early.

He takes a sip of his drink and you notice the tattoo on his wrist. You plaster a shocked look upon your face and reach out to pull his arm toward you.

‘Are you part of one of those dangerous gangs?’ you say.

‘Dime Lions, yeah.’ he says, signalling to the barkeeper for another drink. 

‘You must be very brave.’ you say, looking up and smiling at him again.

‘I don’t like to brag, but yes, I am.’ he says. ���Can’t be in a gang if you’re afraid of a little action.’

You fake a look of admiration on your face as you lean your chin on your hand, looking at him. ‘That sound really impressive.’ you say.

‘It’s not without danger, but it pays good money.’ he says, taking a sip of his drink. 

‘Really?’ you say.

‘We got an important job coming up. It should make us rich.’ he says.

‘Wow.’ you say. ‘Like, really rich?’

‘You could say that, yes.’ he says. ‘But I’m not supposed to talk to anyone about it.’

‘Oh.’ you say, letting your chin drop slightly. ‘I see.’ 

You move to get up, but he lays a hand on your arm to stop you. ‘Hey, don’t go.’ he says. ‘I suppose I could tell you a little bit about it, just not the details.’

You smile and sit back down. ‘Well, in that case. Let me order you another drink, and tell me a story.’ you say, signalling to the barkeeper. 

‘So, a promising job?’ you say as the barkeeper sets another drink down in front of him. 

‘Very. It’s an expensive necklace. Worth millions of kruge.’ he says. He reaches out and places his hand on your hip. He’s really testing your patience. You try not to show your annoyance.

You let your jaw drop slightly and lean in closer. ‘Millions?’ you whisper eagerly.

He nods. ‘That’s right. We’re winning big with this one. They’re shipping it all the way from Ravka, and it’s arriving on one of the docks on Wednesday night. That part of the docks belongs to the Dregs, but we have a plan on feeding them the wrong information. That necklace is as good as ours.’ he says.

‘You’re really smart.’ you say. ‘How come you’re not running your own gang?’ 

He laughs at your words and you giggle a bit. 

‘It’s not as easy as it looks.’ he says. ‘It takes skill, and practice, and you have to deal with a whole lot of planning. Not my speciality. But I am climbing up the ranks within the Dime Lions, I have to give you that.’

‘Well if you’re climbing the ranks as fast as you’re ordering drinks, it shouldn’t be a problem.’ you laugh, putting your hand on his arm. 

He laughs as well, then smiles at you. You finish your drink and get up.

‘Well, you have been lovely company.’ you say. ‘Do you come here often?’

‘I do.’ he says. ‘This is my favorite place.’

‘Then I might stumble in here a bit more. Maybe I’ll see a certain Dime Lion.’ you say with a wink. ‘Thanks for the drink.’

‘Thank you for the company.’ he says. ‘And I hope to see you again.’

‘I hope not.’ you mutter under your breath as you head out the bar, back to Kaz and Jesper.

When you reach them, they look like the exact opposites of each other. Jesper looks delighted and proud as you walk toward them. 

Kaz, on the other hand, has his lips pressed together so tightly they almost disappear into a thin line. And he looks ready to hit someone in the head with his cane.

‘Alright.’ you say, ignoring the look on Kaz’ face. ‘The necklace arrives on Wednesday night, on our docks. They’re going to plant wrong information to throw us off, but it’s going to be Wednesday night, that’s for sure. I don’t know how many people they’re going to send though, but it should be an easy job.’

Jesper lets out a low whistle. ‘Way to go, Y/N.’ he says. 

‘Like I said, a job for a lady. Tipsy men are willing to tell women everything if they think it’ll make them look impressive.’ you say, taking your coat from Kaz’ arm and putting it on.

‘I think you deserve another drink back at the Slat.’ says Jesper. ‘After you.’

You smile at him and start to walk back to the Slat. You spend almost half of the journey talking and laughing with Jesper, just messing around a bit. You notice Kaz hasn’t said a word, not even telling you good job for gathering the information. 

You hang back and fall into step next to Kaz. 

‘You okay?’ you ask him. Kaz gives a quick nod. You know he’s not much of a talker, but you expected a thank you for getting the job done. 

You try to get him to talk, but his answers are short, if he even answers at all.

‘Come on, Kaz, we got what we came for, didn’t we? Why are you upset?’ you say, looking at him.

‘I'm not upset that we got the information.’ he says, finally giving you a proper answer. ‘I don’t like the way we got it, though.’ he adds to it.

His answer puts a mischievous smile on your face.

‘Aw, is Kaz Brekker, jealous?’ you say teasingly, but Kaz doesn’t tease you back. He merely keeps on walking, not answering you.

‘Kaz, come on, I just did my job.’ you say.

‘Was it your job to practically sit in his lap?’ snaps Kaz. ‘To lay your hand on his arm, to allow him to put his hand on your hip?’

‘I only let him get close so I could get the information out of him. You know I wouldn’t do something like that, I'm yours, Kaz.’ you say, frowning that he could take it so personally.

‘Well you sure as hell made it look convincing you are his.’ grumbles Kaz.

You hold a hand up and get in front of him to stop him. Jesper curiously looks your way but you motion for him to keep walking. He continues walking, but does look over his shoulder every once in a while. You wait for Jesper to be out of reach when you start talking again.

‘I did my job, Kaz. Nothing more than that. There’s absolutely no reason for you to be jealous.’ you say.

‘I’m not jealous.’ says Kaz.

You raise your eyebrows at him. ‘Really?’ you say. ‘Then what’s all this? Because it looks a lot like jealousy to me.’

‘Did you see the way he looked at you?’ says Kaz.

‘Yes I did, but it’s nothing. He was drunk. He’s probably not gonna remember anything of it in the morning.’ you say.

‘What if he does remember it?’ says Kaz, looking at you.

You plant your hands on your hips. ‘Then I'll show him I'm yours.’ you say. ‘And he’ll think twice before even looking my way next time he sees me.’

You look at Kaz, but he still looks restless. You sigh and step closer to him. You reach out and take his gloved hand in his.

‘Look, Kaz, I need you to know I was friendly to him for the sake of the job. I have been and always will be yours.’ you say. 

Kaz looks from his hand in your to your face. 

‘I’m yours.’ you say. ‘No need to be jealous.’

‘I wasn’t jealous.’ he mumbles, making you laugh.

‘Oh, my dear, you definitely were. You should have seen your face. You looked like all you wanted to do was whack that Dime Lion over the head with your cane.’ you say.

‘I did want to do that.’ he admits, making you laugh again. 

‘No need to worry, Kaz.’ you say. ‘Though I would do it again for a job though, or maybe just for the sake of seeing you jealous.’

His head snaps up at your words. You bite your lip to hold your laughter.

‘You look really hot when you’re jealous.’ you say. You see him relaxing again, softly shaking his head at your words, but with a faint smile on his face.

‘You’re one of a kind, Y/N.’ he says as the two of you continue your way back to the Slat.

‘One of a kind, and all yours.’ you say.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[missgeniality]

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna​​ is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this!   This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy! 

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods. 

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning. 

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold. 

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity. 

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully. 

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.” 

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?” 

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation. 

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?” 

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious. 

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well. 

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight? 

BTS is on your flight? 

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography. 

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger. 

BTS who? 

Biggest boyband who? 

You only listen to Frank Sinatra. 

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally. 

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours. 

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help. 

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved. 

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could. 

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back. 

Aw, you are in trouble. 

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face. 

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true. 

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth. 

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you. 

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you. 

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to. 

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all. 

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile. 

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously. 

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.  

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean. 

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.” 

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..” 

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in. 

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb. 

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.” 

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.  

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told. 

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep. 

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began. 

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you. 

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you. 

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you. 

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family. 

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen. 

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request. 

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement. 

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.” 

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck. 

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart. 

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him. 

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon. 

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.” 

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence. 

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car. 

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you. 

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that. 

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of. 

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far. 

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode. 

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma. 

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this. 

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong. 

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do. 

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall. 

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!" 

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!” 

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor. 

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so. 

But you’re not anyone else. 

He isn’t just anyone.  

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two. 

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours. 

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century. 

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind. 

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours. 

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation. 

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end. 

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark. 

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.” 

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible. 

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken. 

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him. 

The elevator door opens, and people walk out. 

But that’s not where your attention is. 

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm. 

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad. 

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present. 

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.” 

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” 

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile. 

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too. 

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space. 

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!” 

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed. 

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again. 

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.” 

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”. 

The punctuation was not vocalized. 

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself. 

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there? 

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna. 

So far, no sign of him. 

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far. 

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode. 

And then you hear it. 

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but. 

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck. 

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight. 

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight. 

 “Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement. 

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is. 

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart. 

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.” 

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first. 

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own. 

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes.  “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.” 

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter. 

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?” 

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight. 

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger. 

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware. 

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer. 

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue. 

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch. 

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates. 

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?” 

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air. 

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative. 

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?” 

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress. 

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured. 

“On your knees.” he commands.  

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.” 

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on. 

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm. 

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head. 

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise. 

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly. 

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him. 

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him. 

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.” 

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over. 

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench. 

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening. 

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod. 

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum. 

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you. 

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him. 

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss. 

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair. 

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt. 

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room. 

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom. 

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you. 

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention. 

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought. 

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret. 

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch. 

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth. 

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way. 

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face. 

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs. 

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem. 

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-” 

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him. 

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason. 

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard. 

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him. 

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making. 

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls. 

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat. 

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it. 

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response. 

“Go on baby, ride me.” 

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better. 

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!” 

“That’s fucking right, only me.” 

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away. 

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve. 

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full. 

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high. 

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face. 

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!” 

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.” 

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way. 

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole. 

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs. 

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core. 

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours. 

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.” 

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon. 

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart. 

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.” 

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness. 

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy. 

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance. 

He finds none. 

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go. 

You inch closer. 

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his. 

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win. 

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words. 

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst. 

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows.  You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him. 

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far. 

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up. 

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement. 

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

[chocolateheart]

Door number 12

Title: Door Number 12

Word count: 7937 (I know, I'm sorry)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: A noisy neighbour is bringing you a lot of emotions. What if this bubbling tension and frustration will finally find their way out?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex (please, wrap it before you tap it), creampie, fingering, handjob, pinning to the wall, clothes tearing, biting, scratching, a lot of kissing, strong eye contact, sex noises, tension, some swearing, noisy neighbour, arguing, stealing food, property damage, I don't know, porn?

Bingo Square Filled: Neighbour AU for @spnmixedbingo

A/N: Yes, another porn. Please, don't judge me, I couldn't help it. I won't say much, that fic just sorta happened. I hope you'll like it! Enjoy babes!

A/N: As always huge huge huge THANK YOU to my dear beta, angel and Queen @winchest09 for giving this piece a look. Love you Tabbs <3 Still, mistakes are mine!

A/N: The gorgeous divider designed by incredibly talented @talesmaniac89 <3

Throwing your bag on the counter along with your keys, a deep sigh left your chest. You numbly looked around your apartment as you began to take off your jewellery. Why did this place always look like a pigsty every time you got back home? Your necklace and bracelet joined your bag when you tossed them to one side as a yawn escaped you.

This day was exhausting, to say the least. Maybe your work wasn’t that demanding but sometimes it was just tiring to the point where you wanted to cry. After shrugging your jean jacket off, your feet took you to the couch and you just collapsed down on it with a pained grunt. Your body was stiff and aching, your head was pounding from pain and as soon as you felt a pillow under it, your will to stay awake had started to fade. You knew you shouldn’t take a nap now as there was still so much left to do today, but for god's sake, it was Friday evening and you had been working for the past 5 days at top speed. An hour of rest was something you definitely deserved.

Without standing up, you lifted your hips to take off your jeans and wrapped yourself in the blanket you always kept on the couch. Relaxing your body with a deep breath, you closed your eyes, already halfway to dreamland. But as soon as you felt yourself drifting completely, a loud sound of guitar suddenly sounded in your ears, making your eyes snap open.

No, not again!

Fisting the pillow, you felt the anger growing as you knew exactly where the loud rock music was coming from; recognising the band as AC/DC. When the volume increased, you hid your head underneath the pillow, desperate to cut off your aching skull from the noise. But it didn’t work, the sound still bleeding through the cushion. It didn’t take you a minute to shoot up on straight legs and pull on your sweats while marching towards the front door.

Mumbling inappropriate words, you entered the staircase for your building and immediately went down; hearing the power of the music increasing with every step you took. You found yourself on a floor below, with your jaw and hands clenched, eyes glued to door number 12 as you approached it. Once you stood in front of it, you lifted one of your fists and hit the hard on the wood a few times, ready to murder the person on the other side. Of course he made you wait till the song ended, causing you to repeat the punching a couple of times.

When the door finally opened, you were fuming with anger, eyes shooting lightnings towards the tall man on the opposite side of the doorstep.

"I swear to god, Winchester," you hissed through gritted teeth, a loud melody almost muffling your words. "If you won't turn that down, I will physically harm you." Your threatening pulled a laugh from him which only acted as another oil drop to the fire.

"Sweetheart you can't do anything to me," he said, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed on this broad chest. "Besides, I don't understand what your problem is." Dean shrugged as if nothing had happened, making your brows shoot up.

"You don't understand?! This music is driving me crazy!" You took a deep breath and while not breaking the strong eye contact you had with him, you started to enlighten him on what exactly was wrong. "I’ve had a terrible day, no, week actually. Everything hurts, my head is pounding and this music is shaking my walls which in turn, is not letting me sleep. So if you could be so nice and turn that off because I swear on what's holy, if I lose my goddamn mind, your name will be the first one I'm gonna mention once they ask me how I ended up in mental hospital." Words just slipped out of you in one unbreakable line and you took shuddering breath after, composing yourself.

However, the smug smirk didn’t leave your neighbour's face; he didn’t give a damn about your monologue. After you finished, he only put a hand on your shoulder and delivered his response.

"It's a Friday evening and we live in a free country. There’s no rule saying I can't listen to loud music, unless it's lights out. What's more, you're the only one who can't stand this, I don't see anyone else coming here to complain, so maybe the problem lies in you, not in me," he simply said, as he flashed you a fake, sarcastic smile and closed the door. But not before saying, "have a nice evening."

You looked up to the ceiling, asking for patience but the frustration and anger were huge. You growled, kicked Winchester's door with your socked foot and cursed, feeling pain going from your toes to the tibial bone.

On your way back to your apartment, you were mumbling out every possible, offensive name that came to your mind when you thought about that green eyed man. Your relationship had been heated ever since he moved into the building. He made your blood boil. Loud music, meetings with his friends, watching movies on full volume on his surround speakers after dark in the middle of the week, noisily cooking at midnight; even his one night stands apparently had an unfulfilled opera career.

You were having a battle with Dean, on average, twice a week. Knowing you weren’t the only one who couldn’t stand his behavior, you asked others for help, but Dean’s charm was way bigger of an opponent than you had expected. He could just use a sweet smile, say a few, flirty words with this deep voice and Ann from the end of the hall would walk on wobbly legs with stupid smile on her face for the next four days.

You couldn’t really blame her, the man was ridiculously attractive but you were looking past it. Dean was an annoying asshole and the only reason you had not yet clawed out his eyes was the fact that visiting the jail wasn’t exactly a wooing thought.

Shutting your door behind you, you leaned against it and ‘Sweet Child O’ mine’ came on. You growled once again, hit your wooden barricade with your head and looked down, trying to find calmness in your floor. Once you stopped radiating fury, knowing that the person below won't let you rest for at least two more hours, you chose the second drawer in your kitchen, searching for painkillers. If you were being made to stay up, you were gonna be productive. Swallowing two aspirin, you decided to clean the place so you could focus on college work tomorrow.

If only you could actually focus on college work.

After waking up at 8 am the next day, you opened the window on your way to the kitchen, craving coffee. It wasn’t normal for you to get up at this hour on the weekend but your finals were coming and you had way more work than you expected.

Thankfully, the weather outside was pleasant; the sun was already shining, creating morning shadows and the soft wind streamed inside your apartment, tickling your ankles as you sat at the table, eating breakfast. The smell of spring made you smile, always bringing back good memories. After the meal, you didn’t bother to change your pajamas for the actual clothes and you just took the laptop to start working on your college sheets. You were sitting with one of your legs bent, heel leaning on the chair, messy bun on your head, sipping on the second coffee while listening to the birds singing happily outside. Words were flooding out of you, making you feel certain that it wouldn’t take you long to be done with your essays. But that blissful moment was cut short when a loud rumble of a car’s engine resonated under your building, causing you to jerk in your chair and almost spill your drink.

Recognizing it straight away, you looked up, trying your best to not get angry again but as the sound of his loud engine revving l continued, you smacked the table with your palm and stood up. As you leaned on your window sill and gazed out, you spotted black, slick Chevrolet with the driver's door, trunk and hood open. Tools were scattered around the vehicle, a jean clothed leg was sticking out from the inside and you greeted your teeth, knowing who that was.

“Hey!” you yelled out, not caring if probably half of the residents could hear you. “I’m trying to study here!”

Dean peeked out and up at you, smiled and got out of the car, leaning his elbow on the hood in a nonchalant way.

“Good morning to you too,” he said and flashed you the oh-so-charming smile.

“It would be good if you didn’t interrupt it with your loud junker,” you spat back, leaning on the window frame and smiled when his face fell; he hated it when someone insulted his Baby, and you were very much aware of that. “Now, could you please lower your generic volume because I have a lot to do and you’re the last thing I want to deal with today.”

“Nobody tells you to. I’m minding my business, you go mind yours, I ain’t stopping you.” He gestured towards you with his grease covered hand.

“No, but your car is making noise that shakes all the dishes in my cabinet.”

He just shrugged and you narrowed your eyes, seeing that he didn’t care about whatever your problem was. “Then I suggest closing the window.”

After saying that, he dived inside the vehicle and seconds later you heard the strong twang of a guitar. Again. This man was very successful in making you hate rock music. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, stopping yourself from throwing a flowerpot at him; only because it was a very nice pot and you were emotionally attached to it.

“I need fresh air! I’m not gonna close the window! Turn that off!” you screamed, but he only frowned and pointed to his ear.

“Sorry sweetheart, can’t hear you!” You could see the smile dancing on his lips and you really wanted to break something on his head. “The music is too loud!”

Clenching your jaw you gave up. Another defeat, but it wasn’t the war you lost; it was just a battle and he was yet to feel your comeback. Showing him your middle finger, you closed the window and went to the bathroom, not being able to hear the soft chuckle that left him.

Maybe to an outsider, Dean’s behavior wasn’t such a big deal, but the longer he acted like that, the more annoying and tiring it was becoming. You couldn’t focus on basic activities because he was giving you a headache in various ways and for some reason, you couldn’t just talk it through with him. Every attempt at trying to get to an understanding with him, ended up with a fight.

Winchester was just a pain in the ass.

Thankfully, he vanished before noon; his car was gone and there was a blissful silence that you made the most of, and finished the majority of what you had to do.

Surrounded by papers and books, you were sitting down on your fluffy carpet, leaning back on your couch, typing away on your laptop. Glancing at your clock again, you frowned. It’s been almost 85 minutes since you ordered pizza; your stomach was rumbling, unhappy with the fact of still being empty. Finding your phone, you dialed the pizza parlor’s number once again. Standing up, you stretched your muscles and looked outside, watching the sunset sky as you waited for someone to pick up. Finally, the lady’s voice spoke to you down the line, asking you how she could help.

“Hi, I made an order from you and I still haven’t received it? It’s been over an hour,” you explained politely, scratching the back of your head.

You didn’t like situations like that; delay was understandable, but it had been way too long. However, you hated to call someone out, you never wanted to make someone’s job harder than it already was. Giving your address to the lady so she could check where your food was, you spotted the black vehicle under the building and your brows shot up. He was home and it was still quiet; it wasn’t normal.

“Miss, the system says your order was delivered and we have a confirmation of receipt.” You frowned hearing her words as what she said was impossible.

“Are you sure? There was no delivery here.”

“Yes, I’m positive. It says someone picked up the order twenty minutes ago.” Pinching your nose, you took a deep breath.

“Could you check the address precisely, please? Maybe your driver made a mistake?” you suggested being already sure someone else got your food.

“Rosenhouse Street, building 4, apartment 12,” she read and the last number made you flinch.

“Apartment 20,” you corrected her, but she denied.

“No Miss, the order was picked up by apartment 12.” And just like that the level of your anger reached three digits in a second.

“Okay, thank you so much,” you murmured and disconnected the call without a goodbye, already storming halfway across your place, getting ready to leave.

Slamming the door, you took a very well known path downstairs and you banged on number 12 as soon as you stood in front of it. Feeling the urge to punch the person who was supposed to open, you inhaled deeply, clenching your teeth. Just... keep it cool, Y/N.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” you growled the second Dean came into your view in his domestic clothes, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Whoa, what?” he tilted his head with an uncomprehending look.

“Listen,” you pointed a finger at him. “Loud noises, annoying car, your mean behavior, fine, okay. Screw it. But stealing food? That is childish. Can you go any lower?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he said with a smile dancing on his lips. “What food?”

“My pizza,” you muttered through your teeth.

“Oh, right!” He smacked his forehead, acting like he just now understood. “Yeah, pizza was great.”

“You stole it!” you exclaimed, a little too high pitched.

“No I didn’t,” Dean stated, giving you a small, I-know-better smile.

“Yes, you did. I ordered it and you just pocketed it!” You really wanted to stamp your foot like a little girl to tick your fury.

"No sweetheart, I didn’t," he said, crossing his arms and straightening his back so he could tower over you, making you look up. "The guy came in with pizza, said he's supposed to bring it here, so I paid for it and ate it."

"Oh! Because it's normal to pay for the food you didn’t order and keep it to yourself. And stop calling me sweetheart!" You puffed out irritated, making him smirk.

"You're cute when you're angry." Your face fell and you felt your palm itching. What would he do if you slapped him?

"Dean," you warned him but he chuckled.

"No, seriously." He reached to your forehead, wanting to brush it with his finger. "You have this cute, little wrinkle in the middle-"

"Don't touch me." You smacked his hand away and pointed a warning finger straight into his face. "One more action like this and you're gonna regret it," you growled out and walked away.

"So it's threatening now, huh?!" he called after you, coming out to stand in the hall.

Before you stepped on the stairs, you turned around with such a force, that your hair flipped over one of your shoulders and you showed him your middle finger. Hearing his low laugh bouncing on the wall, you scoffed annoyed as you stomped loudly going back upstairs. You swore that if you were supposed to become a murderer one day, that this man was gonna be victim number one. This whole 'lets annoy her' process would be great fuel for you to slice that slender throat of his.

Shutting the door again, you walked into the kitchen, dived in the fridge and decided to stuff yourself with pancakes. Screw Dean and his pizza, you were not going to give him satisfaction with ordering anything else tonight.

“So, he’s a confident man,” Jo stated after you told her about Winchester’s behavior.

You came to Harvelle's to grab something for Sunday dinner; they had the most delicious menu in the whole town and no one could change your mind. You were sitting with a blonde girl at the table, outside their restaurant, sipping on some light drinks Ellen had prepared for the two of you. Ash was already working on your meal in the kitchen while Jo was taking her break so she could sit with you and listen about your neighbour under the floor. It took you way longer to describe everything and you felt kind of bad for that. You weren’t the type who whined about such things and forced friends to hear about your bullshit, but now you were desperate to get it all off your chest.

“Confident asshole,” you corrected her, “I just wish he could finally get his ass kicked, you know? I can’t live with this man! He’s an arrogant, offensive, little, annoying dickhead!” you said, crossing your arms on your chest.

After a few seconds of silence, you looked up at Jo. She was watching you, clearly trying not to smile; her lips were twitching and small dimples had already appeared. You knew her long enough to know that she was all ready to tease you about this whole situation.

“What?” you barked at her and she lifted her hands in defense.

“Nothing!” She shrugged. “Just, your relationship with him seems to have been… rough since the very beginning.”

“It is! I really wanna punch him!” Jo lifted her brows, a smile breaking on her face.

“Just punch him?” The suggestion was shining in her eyes and your shoulders fell down at the subtext.

“Jo!” she started giggling when she heard your resigned tone. “Just because I’m having a heated exchange with a hot guy doesn’t mean that I wanna fuck him!”

“Oh, so you think he’s hot?” she asked innocently, taking a sip from her glass.

“Yes, but he’s an idiot and I would never let him in my panties, come on,” you scoffed as you rolled your eyes. The last thing you would ever do was having sex with this man.

“Sure.”

And you knew Jo didn’t believe you. To be honest, if you thought about it really, really hard, you weren’t sure if you believed yourself…

The door opened and Ash came out with a smile, your food packed in a thermal box.

“There you go, girl. We do not accept any complaints,” he said, winking at you and you chuckled, taking the meal from him.

“Thanks, Ash.” He saluted you and vanished as quickly as he appeared. You glanced at your phone laying on the table and sighed seeing the time. “Okay babe, I’m gonna go. School’s calling and I bothered you enough anyway.”

“Oh stop it, you’re not bothering me, don’t be stupid,” she said smiling, and hugged you tight. “Text me when you get home.”

“Sure thing.” You winked and walked backwards, watching her disappear inside the RoadHouse.

Smiling to yourself, you turned around and crossed the street. At first your thoughts were filled with Jo who could always put you in a good mood but then they gradually transitioned into someone else.

You didn’t know if it was your overworked system or what Jo had teased you about that caused Dean to stick inside your mind, but you wanted to scream; it was like he had nested in there. Not only was he disturbing your living space, but he was now invading your mental space as well. What’s more, it wasn’t exactly hard to not think about him in a nasty way, and you hated it. The truth was that he was attractive from his fluffy hair to his toes, and more than once you had caught yourself daydreaming about his hands and mouth on you.

You couldn’t help it. The way he looked was not fair and Jo made you realise that if not for his attitude, you would have slept with him a long time ago. Thankfully, in the moments you felt weakness for him, he was doing something that pissed you off to the point where you wanted to bite his head off.

You really wanted to get even with him, you had to bounce the ball. The need to bite back was so big that you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw the paint store. The bulb in your head flickered on and a devil smile angled your lips. Maybe it was a bad idea, maybe it was childish, maybe it was crossing the line, but you had suffered enough thanks to this jerk.

Buying one can of pink chalk paint, you were muting your common sense that was currently shouting at you. As the saying goes - you only live once. He wanted a fight? You were going to fight. He started to play a strong hand? You were going to do the same. He thought playing with you like that was fun? Well, you were gonna have some fun too. Besides, he wouldn’t realise immediately that the paint would easily wash off, but seeing him panic thinking that his car had been defaced was revenge enough.

With a few last strokes of a paintbrush, you were finished. Straightening your back, you looked down at your work and smiled, satisfied with pink flowers you had drawn on the black surface. They were a nice contrast and you really liked the shape. In all honesty, it kinda burned you to paint this four wheeled beauty, but it wasn’t your fault her owner was a douchebag who deserved a lesson.

The impala was parked in her usual spot, next to the building that was mostly asleep. There were no cameras and due to the late hour, the chance of someone spotting you was small. Besides, you were just a hooded figure, no one would recognise you anyway even with the dim light from a lonely lantern. It was risky, but you were too far gone in your revenge to care. It had been done and you wished you could see Dean’s face in the morning.

Gathering your things you looked around, checking to see if there was anyone you should avoid and you got back to your apartment. After closing the door, you took off your clothes, staying only in leggings and a t-shirt, and decided to make some tea. You had this weird energy bubbling inside of you and it would be a waste to not use it on college papers. Getting comfortable on your couch you started going through materials for one of your projects.

Not expecting any visitors, you jumped slightly while hearing a rapid knocking on your door an hour later. You frowned and stood up, finishing your tea on your way to the entry. What you saw on the other side almost made you smile like an idiot. Dean was boring into you with his eyes; if looks could kill, you would surely be a beautiful corpse by now. His chest was rising and falling heavily, jaw clenched to the point his cheek was twitching and you could see the slight blush coloring on his face. He was wearing his leather jacket but was also in sweats so you assumed he was about to make a quick grocery run or something.

“What the hell?!” he growled at you before you could say a word. Ohhh, he was angry.

“What?” You shrugged innocently, ignoring the weird chill that ran down your spine after hearing the vibrations of his tone.

Dean took a deep breath, doing his best to not shout out. “I wanted to go get some beer and burgers, but guess what. Someone screwed up my car. And you know what? I think it was you.”

He pointed a finger at you, holding keys in his hand. You laughed and leaned on your doorframe, ready to confront him. Satisfaction already tickled your insides, but there was one thing that you had to admit - he was hot when he was angry.

“You really think that I have nothing better to do than mess up your car?” you asked, amused by his flaring nostrils.

"Don't you fucking dare play with me like that," he said firmly, not wanting to yell. "Do you know it's property damage? You broke a law and I can easily get you in trouble."

He was fuming with anger and you were sure that if it was possible, there would be smoke coming out of his ears. You smiled and stood your ground, finding it adorable how he thought he had anything useful against you.

"You have nothing on me. No proof that I was the one who defaced your car," you started, taking two steps to stand inches away from him. "Call the cops and I'm gonna tell them all about the nuisance, the stealing, manipulation and manifestations of aggression all coming from you.”

You stared straight into his eyes, a smart smile not leaving you even for a second; feeling confident in your words. Maybe he had a point, but you weren’t empty handed. You could get punished for what you did and so could he.

“What is your problem, Y/N?!” he asked, pinching his nose, clearly irritated with you. “You keep whining, making problems out of nothing and now painting my damn car?”

“You’re not letting me live in peace!” you raised your voice. “Your loud music, loud car, loud tv, loud you in general! I can’t sleep, I can’t study, I can’t do anything because you’re always there to disturb me!”

“Then leave!” he suggested, raising his tone as well. You were taken aback; lifting your brows you blinked a few times. Was he joking?

“Leave?! Are you kidding me now?! This is my home and just a friendly reminder, I was in here first so maybe you should back off!”

“But you’re the only one having a problem with me!” he yelled, spreading his arms, highlighting the obviousness of his argument.

“Because you’re a manipulative ass! You use your charm, this fucking smile, your shining eyes, and nice language, and the whole building is yours! Even Ian from the 4th floor and he doesn't even like people!”

“Ian is a cool guy!”

“Good!”

You took a breath and opened your mouth to say something more but no words came out. Again, you were convinced that there was no way to come to an agreement with this guy. Further arguments were pointless. Looking at him you shook your head and brushed your hair to the back. The soft smile and look you gave him next, made him frown a little.

“You know what? Fuck you,” you said simply and went to close the door, but his retort didn’t let you.

“You wish.”

Freezing, you locked your eyes with his and in a split second, something shifted in the air. The atmosphere got thick and the tension you had been building for months, now came into play, kinda taking you both by surprise. Dean felt it too, you could see his expression changing. He was trying to read you, trying to understand what was buzzing between you. A part of you wanted to explain it, to show him that you already knew it was sexual tension saying ‘hi’, but as soon as you realised that, you swallowed and forced your rational mask back on.

Shaking off the urge to take steps towards him, you scoffed and sending him one last look, you shut the door without saying anything. Taking two deep breaths, you leaned your forehead on the wooden barricade and closed your eyes.

There was no way in hell you would give in and break. He had everyone else in his fist, but not you. The only person that didn’t fall under his spell, the only one that didn’t let your craving inside take better of you. Dean was still your enemy and a pain in the ass; it was a matter of honour and dignity to stay away.

However, soft knocking made your eyes snap open. No. Darting your head from the door you looked at it, knowing who was behind it but that didn’t even register when you pulled on the door-handle. Dean was supporting his body on his arms that he had placed on both sides of your door, blocking the way. He was looking at you intensely, his breathing quicker than moments ago.

You could see the exact second he made a decision. You knew he was going to do something he shouldn’t and yet, you let him close the gap between you and crush his mouth to yours, cupping your cheeks at the same time. The force he hit you with made you take steps backwards, encouraging him to come in and turn you around so you could unconsciously close the door. His grip was firm, long fingers digging in your neck as hot lips forced yours apart. But your stubbornness caused you to push him away, breaking the connection.

The look you exchanged was a mix of emotions; hate, passion, frustration, lust, confusion, hesitation. This was something completely new for you; needing him was unfamiliar, strange, but at the same time stronger than anything you had felt before when it came to Dean. There was this quiet voice telling you that it was already too late; you tasted it and you wanted it, obviously. The other voice was louder, trying to make you aware of how messed up it's gonna be after, but somehow you didn’t want to listen. Not this time.

"Fuck it."

Saying that, you approached Dean and gripping him by the back of his neck, you pulled him down for a kiss. It was sloppy and deep, all teeth and tongues. He inhaled through his nose, bending down when your nails clawed at his skin. Grabbing you by the waist, he used a little pressure so you walked backwards. You didn’t expect to be pushed against the wall and a surprised gasp escaped you when your back hit it. Looking up at Dean, you noticed how his hungry eyes flickered over your figure and a cocky smirk formed on his face. You mirrored his expression and lifted your chin, so you could suck in his lower lip, biting on it softly. His response was immediate and fierce; he pressed his body to yours, pinning you to the wall completely, kissing you even deeper than before. The heat flooded you, making your cheeks burn and a sweat break.

You moaned and that seemed to spur him on because his hands started travelling all over your body. Doing the same, you aimed for his jacket, pushing it off his broad shoulders so it could land on the floor. The thought of finally discovering what was under his clothes took over your brain and you started to pull on his t-shirt, hazed and eager. But Dean grabbed your wrist and pinned it next to your head, not letting you undress him. You twisted and tugged, trying to break free, but he slid his fingers between yours and you instinctively clenched your palm.

“Don’t fight,” he breathed out, leaving your lips as he dropped to your neck, letting you take a much needed breath.

Leaning your head back you gave him the access to your throat where he licked and sucked, french-kissing your flesh. Your knees buckled a little when his hot lips closed on your pulse point, sending shivers down your spine as his stubble prickled you. Feeling his second hand sneaking under your shirt, you held your breath and jerked on the skin to skin contact. He wasn’t delicate; his long fingers were squeezing and digging, a firm touch making it all the more intense. Using your free hand you fisted his hair, pulling on it. Dean purred, nibbling on your flesh, making your eyes roll. It was like playing tennis, back and forth; you had an answer to each other's movements.

The hunger inside you was growing fast; you were getting more and more impatient and being caged by Dean only made you feel limited. So, naturally, you rebelled, trying to take control; with Dean it was always a competition. But your attempt only caused him to press his body more, his knee coming between your legs, making it harder for you to move. The thin material of your leggings was a weak protection to his touch and you whined when your sensitive area met his thigh. Fidgeting even more, you made him chuckle.

“Stop fighting,” he whispered into your ear as he pulled your earlobe between his teeth.

Growling, you turned your head and sunk your teeth into his neck, tasting sweet and salty. Dean hissed and backed away, looking down at you with a surprise in his eyes, brows slightly furrowed. You smiled and angled yourself to speak against his lips.

“Don’t act like you don’t like a fight, Winchester.”

The suggestion was clear and he seemed to understand. Your relationship was already a ticking bomb so why not have a little fun?

The challenging look you gave him was a last jolt and his mode switched. Before you could do anything, he kissed you firmly, letting go of you just to grab on the front of your shirt. Pulling with two hands Dean ripped the fabric in half, revealing your torso, making you smile a devil’s smile. He shook his head in disbelief that you were actually going along with it and grinning, he attacked your jaw. Scraping it with his teeth first, then kissing and going down passed your neck, to your collarbone. Bending his knees so he could reach lower and lower, he proceeded to shrug the destroyed clothing off you and focus on your breasts. Placing sloppy kisses on the curves, Dean moved his hands on your back and unclasped your bra. As soon as it was gone, he sucked in one of your nipples, causing you to arch your chest. Pulling his hair, you grabbed the back of his head, letting him know you enjoyed his work.

Every time his lips touched you, they left burning spots and you could feel yourself getting wetter. Not holding back anymore, you started to roll your hips, seeking the friction his leg could give you. Still playing with your boobs, he caught your hips and added the power to your moves, dragging a moan from you. Glancing down, you spotted the bulge in his sweatpants and realised he was still wearing too much clothes.

“Take that fucking shirt off,” you panted out, grabbing on the piece of clothing on his back.

This time he allowed you to do what you needed, lifting his arms to make your task easier and the second his chest was bare, you used your nails to leave red lines, making him grimace from pain before he kissed you. Caressing his newly exposed body, you felt firm muscles of his strong arms flexing. He wasn’t a gym type of guy, he was soft in some places but firm and strong in general, and that turned you on to the point your stomach flipped.

Suddenly, he pushed on your hips until your butt touched the wall behind you and pulled away from you, straightening himself. You looked at each other, panting and flinching in anticipation. Keeping the eye contact, Dean cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips and slowly slid his hands down your body. You swallowed hard when he hooked his fingers behind your waistband and pulled your leggings down, crouching in front of you.

With a thumping heart you looked down at him, meeting his dark eyes watching you as he kissed your knee, your thigh, your inner thigh; his hands travelling up your legs, leaving goosebumps. You shivered when his hot breath hit your still clothed core. He placed a kiss on your damp panties, making your pussy clench and stopped. Leaning his forehead on your lower stomach, he tried to remain self-control, breathing strongly to calm himself down... and he failed. This whole situation was too much and he had wanted it for way too long to stop now.

Shooting up, he claimed your lips, driving his fingers inside your briefs at the same time. His digits went through your folds, gathering slick and found your clit, making you gasp into his mouth.

“Yeah? Right here?” he whispered and you sucked the air in through your mouth when he drew a circle, pressing harshly on your little nub.

Feeling him smiling, you clung to his neck, keeping him close when he started to make circles on your button. Moaning laughs escaped you, mixed with short breaths as you felt fire filling your veins, tickling sparks running from your clit to every nook of your system. For a moment you lost yourself in the feeling, but your brain woke up when he nudged you, rubbing his dick on your leg.

Opening your eyes, you locked them with his, tracing your palm down his chest and stomach. Somehow, you managed to turn you both around so he was by the wall. You didn’t care about teasing him through his pants so you pushed your hand inside and grabbed his hard shaft. Dean jerked and choked on his breath; the whole foreplay made him ridiculously sensitive.

You smiled satisfied and began to pump him, making his head fall back on the wall. His exposed neck was shining with sweat, throat moving as he swallowed hard. Your biting kink was begging for you to bite him, but the view was too good to not watch. His breathing quickened along with your strokes, his jaw flexing when he opened his mouth to chug. A thick vein popped out on the side of his neck, a guttural whine coming from him when you rubbed your thumb on his tip. Finally, you gave in and closed your lips on his jaw, light stubble pricking your lips. Dean turned his head and palming yours he brought you in for a kiss but you broke it fast, having enough.

"Come on," you said, taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom.

Not being able to stay away from each other, you stumbled towards the room, kissing and laughing, getting rid of the rest of the clothes on your way. Hitting the bed you let yourself fall on it, pulling Dean behind you. He hovered above you, using his tongue to play with your nipples as you both climbed up to the headboard. Adjusting the pillows beneath you, you felt his body pressing down, arms sneaking under yours as he kissed you deeply. Rolling his hips, he drove his cock between your folds, poking your clit and you automatically lifted your lower body up on your heels, feeling the electricity running through you. Dean bit down on your lip and pulled on it hard with his teeth, smiling when you hissed.

Without thinking much you just reached between your bodies and guided his cock to your entrance, making him freeze. The look he gave you was a mashup of a question and disbelief, and all it took was your evil smirk. You felt him fisting the sheets under you and with one, mild thrust he slid inside of you. Arching your back you inhaled, digging your fingers into his shoulders. He was stretching you; your walls fluttered around him when he bottomed out, making the two of you give silent moans, your voices stuck in your throats from intensity.

Watching you, he began to move, making you both more and more comfortable with the feeling. Gradually, his pace increased and so did the noises. Your breathy moans and growls filled the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping on skin as Dean's hips waved between your thighs, faster and faster. New layers of sweat covered your bodies as the temperature increased; you felt the omnipresent, pleasurable burning.

Dean kept the rhythm, only stopping for just for a moment to kiss you. Not letting the opportunity pass, you pushed on him and flipped over so you were on top. Looking at you with a smirk, he palmed your asscheeks as you sinked down on him, continuing the activity.

The passion and sensuality made your head spin; Dean’s lustful eyes devouring you alive weren’t helping. You dragged your nails on his flesh again, making him hiss between the sounds. It wasn’t easy to breathe, to think or control yourself; your body started working by itself, speeding up, making you bounce on him while leaning your hands on his chest for support. Dean couldn’t decide where to touch, what part of you he should grab next; his hands were everywhere. Wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck he sat up, changing the angle and gave you this eye-rolling kiss. This asshole knew what he was doing.

A new position allowed you to only roll your hips and you laid back, grabbing Dean’s ankle to make your moves more fluent. He took a handful of your ass, helping you, watching himself sliding in and out of you, growling in pleasure. Tangled together you moved in sync, matching the other’s moves, grinding to empower the sensation. Feeling the coil tightening in your stomach, your head hung back and you exhaled, wailing quietly. A hand flattened on your back and Dean violently pulled you up, pressing your forehead to his. With closed eyes, panting against each other's mouth you chased both of your deliriums. Your pussy fluttered, your nails dug into his neck as you clasped it; the feeling started to overwhelm. The way Dean was moaning and clinging to you made it clear that he felt the same.

Your strength was fading and you found yourself slowing down. Dean’s attempts to continue were in vain as he was becoming weak too, exhaustion and his upcoming release taking over him.

“Y/N,” he warned you and you opened your eyes, looking at him when he reached between you. “I’m gonna-” you kissed him, cutting him off, tugging on his lip with your teeth.

“Stay inside,” you whispered, watching the surprise flash through his features.

The serious, assuring look on your face made his eyes roll back and the noise he made, clamped your stomach. Using your last strands of your power, you sped up, Dean joining you by hitting the right spot inside you. His fingers found your clit again, rubbing on it fast and you moaned loudly, feeling your muscles tightening.

A few more strokes, a few more moves and the crushing wave of pleasure hit you; your inner walls pulsated, squeezing Dean’s cock as you grabbed firmly on his neck, holding on for dear life. His thrusts went more erratic but also were more powerful; he was pounding inside you slow but hard, putting his forehead between your breasts. You were shaking and his breath fanning over your tummy only added more goosebumps.

Then you felt his arms wrapping around you and he hugged you tight. Pulling you close, Dean thrusted for the last time and with a low, throaty groan he stilled; his cock throbbing inside you, allowing you to milk him as you were still coming. The two of you were shivering, entwined in each other, panting and sweaty. Your heart was hammering and you could feel Dean’s galloping as well.

After calming down a bit, he let go of you and fell back on the bed, hitting the pillows with a sigh. Licking your lips, you looked down at him and smiled, seeing his eyes sparkling with joy and bliss. He laughed, caressing your thighs and then pulled you down for a kiss. It was sweet and soft, without tongue, just lips brushing yours; completely different then those earlier.

Oh, so he could be gentle too.

Cupping his face, you pecked his mouth a few times and then rolled off of him, standing up to make a quick run to your bathroom to clean yourself, leaving the door open.

"Hey!" you heard him yelling not even two minutes later, after you splashed your face with cold water. "Is it weird that I wanna cuddle?!"

You smiled on his words, shaking your head. Asshole also appeared to be a softie cuddler. Can this evening be any weirder?

"Yes!" you yelled back, laughing as you put down the cloth you were using to dry yourself.

"Cool!" he announced and then changed his tone, "I don't care."

Chuckling, you turned the light off on your way out and grabbed a random, oversized t-shirt from your drawer to put it on, letting it slip from one of your shoulders. Dean was making himself comfy in your bed, watching you carefully with his arm under his head and a stupid grin on his face.

"What?" you asked as you climbed on the bed, joining him under the covers.

"Nothing," he shrugged and shifted so you could fit in, resting your head on his chest.

Throwing your arm over his middle, you hugged him as his fingers came to trace the skin on your shoulder. A comfortable silence fell over you as you cuddled, enjoying the warmth, but you knew his mind was running, just like yours.

You didn’t like this tendency of yours to overthink, but the current situation was not only unexpected but also confusing. What now? Lovers? Relationship? Friends with benefits? Enemies with benefits? Because, you had to stay honest, if he did something that would piss you off, no matter how good he was in bed, you would still punch his perfect nose.

"I'm sorry." His words surprised you, detaching you from your thoughts. "For being a noisy neighbour."

You could hear the genuine guilt in his voice and that immediately made you feel like a bitch, so you said the first thing that came to your mind.

"I'm sorry for screwing up your car," you mumbled and quickly regretted it.

"Ha! So it was you!" His victory voice made your eyes roll and you poked his side, annoyed by the fact he dragged a confession from you so easily.

"But if it makes you feel any better, the paint is made of chalk so it’ll easily wash off," you said, unable to help the silly smile that spread across your face when you saw the relieved but shocked expression that he wore.

“Well played,” he chuckled, the sound rumbling under your ear which you found oddly comforting. So you snuggled more, melting into the intimacy.

You had to look the truth straight into the eye; maybe he did infuriate you like no other but there was something else. A pull, an urge to blow off the constant steam forming between you. You wanted him and something was telling you that from now on you won't be knocking on door number 12 just to fuss about loud music.

And once Jo finds out, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :) Feel free to leave some feedback. ASKs and DMs are open, don’t be afraid to message me. Every word from you is gold <3

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[erodasfishtacos]

Three Minutes

Prompt: Harry slips up and it’s only right his wife serves him a little punishment.

Word Count: 3.2 k +

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (sexting, dirty talk, public, subby!h)

AN: I’m excited to share this!! I’m pretty sure I’m going to do a part 2. Let me know if you’d like to see this! I’m dedicating this to @harrywritingsbyme because she’s an amazing writer and you need to read everything of hers! Requests open ☺️

Reblog if you can!

Harry was dreading his interview with Howard Stern. The guy was an obnoxious prick who had no filter and liked to put people on the spot - it’s what he’s doing right now. 

You were off to the side, watching the interview next to Jeff. It was matter of time before Howard brought you up to pick and prod at your husband.

“So Harry, you’re married, yes?” Howard asks, typical sunglasses on and curly permed hair donned. His mouth a little to close to the microphone.

“Yeah, I am,” Harry smiles tightly, hands rubbing on this upper thighs. He spares a quick glance over to you.

“She’s here, right?” Howard looks over at you and winks, “Fucking gorgeous babe, huh?”

You roll your eyes at the interviewers remark and Harry’s isn’t pleased but nicely responds, “She’s amazing, way out of my league.”

Howard laughs, “Now I have to ask you, does she tour with you?”

Harry replies, “Yeah. For the most part, sometimes she’ll go off to visit family or friends for a bit.”

The interview smirks, “Does she get worried you’re going to fuck other people while she’s not there? I mean you have girls falling at your feet. It must be hard to avoid temptation.”

You blink owlishly, attempting to contain the offended scoff bubbling in your throat. Jeff snickers and you send him a elbow.

Your husbands face can’t hide his annoyance at the question, “Are you asking me if it’s hard not to cheat on my wife?”

“I mean you could have a line up of girls after every show willing to blow you. I couldn’t be satisfied going home to the same thing every night.”

The band is looking back and forth at each other - clearly uncomfortable. Mitch’s face completely blank - of course.

“Well, I mean - I think that kind of stuff like...people going crazy over you was exciting when I was a bit younger. But no, I mean I’m very much in love and also consider myself a monogamous person.”

“Man, I mean - some of the songs you write about her? Watermelon Sugar, that’s clearly about eating her out,” Howard laughs, the tune playing softly in the background.

Jeff nearly chokes on the water he’s drinking and you pat him hard on the back - as payback for making Harry do this interview.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had pussy so good I’d write about it,” the interview jokes crudely. The women interviewer tittering in the background at his antics.

Harry fumbles, “Uh-uhm, it’s not uh- necessarily about anything or any act like...in particular. Just about having a good time with the person you love.”

The female interviewer who stays mostly quite chirps in to break the tension, “Is it hard to be long-distance when she’s not on the road with you?”

“Not at all. Most of the time she’s with me but we’re lucky we have technology that helps us not feel so far away from each other.”

Howard smiles, “How do you not go crazy being without sex for long amounts of time?”

It’s odd how obsessed this guy is with sex. As well as painting Harry as some sex-crazed rockstar who can’t go a day without.

Harry then goes on to put his entire, big ass foot in his mouth. “Y‘know that’s uh-that’s what good about FaceTime and Snapchat.”

The interviewer grins like a predator at Harry’s admission. You’re face is bright fucking pink. You’re gonna murder him.

“Well you heard it here first, folks. The key to how Harry Styles - one of the greatest artist of his time- keeps a happy relationship with his wife while he’s on the road. Dick pics and FaceTime sex.”

Harry glances over at you, his face apologetic as he already knows he in trouble.

You’re not that embarrassed - it not like it’s a weird thing to do but you didn’t want him talking about it with a trashy talk show host. 

The interview is almost over which is good because Harry’s about to lose his temper after he’s asked about his step-father’s passing and the stalker who was harassing you two.

During the interview however, you get a wonderful fucking idea as easy payback for Harry’s little slip up.

After Harry’s tossed his headset and microphone pack off with a little too much force to be unnoticeable - he’s sliding up beside you.

“Baby love,” He murmurs sheepishly into your cheek, nuzzling there for a moment, and breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

“You did good, H,” You reply softly, landing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling back to brush his hair off his forehead.

“Y’not mad?” Harry asks warily, knowing he got nervous and gave a little too much information.

“No baby, not mad at all,” Your voice steady and believable. It was true - you weren’t mad, just a little annoyed.

He seems confused. He knows you like the back of his hand and usually, you get peeved when he says something in interviews you’d rather the word not know.

Like the one time he let it slip you had an affinity for hooking up in hotel pools after dark. Prat.

**

Harry multiple appearances that day and it ends in a dinner at a fancy restaurant in Beverly Hills with big wigs.

You were invited but declined, despite Harry’s pouting and whines for you to go. You were the only thing that made these work obligations go faster.

However, you had other plans and a little bit of revenge to play on your unsuspecting husband.

All in good fun - of course.

**

Harry sits down with a group of people from his label. They’re all dressed in tight suits and rolex watches.

Harry on the other hand is in a flowy button-up only halfway done and a tight pair is skinny jeans. Jeff is dressed pretty casually too.

They were talking about tour dates and had just received their appetizers when he gets the text from you. Your name in his phone as baby love.

Harry nearly chokes on his water when he opens the message to reveal an image of you nearly naked in your shared bed. You skin tone standing out against the baby blue comforter.

You have one of his vintage tees on as well as some creme boyshort panties. The shirt is lifted though, rumpled up by your collarbones to reveal your breasts.

Harry wants to drool over the picture but doesn’t want to risk anyone else seeing his wife in any state of undress. So he quickly responds.

Baby, I’m at dinner.

You reply with another picture. A hand tucked down your underwear, cupping your heat. He can see the outline of your fingers underneath the thin fabric.

Already have something you could eat.

Harry can already feel himself twitch in his jeans. Cut it the fuck out now

Another. Fucking. Picture. Comes through.

This time you’re completely stripped, tits visible with soft pink peaks, and a hand strategically covering your cunt. 

Make me, H.

It clicks what game you’re playing. You rarely sent anything risqué when you where together because you had each other physically.

Harry curses under his breathe, locking his phone and pushing back his chair a little too fast - excusing himself to the loo.

As soon as he clicks the lock on the single-person restroom, he’s pressing on your contact information and you pick up on the very first ring.

“You bloody brat, I’m out at dinner,” Harry hisses at you, giving himself a rough squeeze through his tighten trousers.

All he hears back is a breathy moan. He’d know that sound anywhere - you’re touching yourself.

“What the fuck are you playin’ at?” Your husband demands, but the clipped edge in his tone tells you how much it’s affecting him.

“Just a little payback, babe...for spilling our dirty secrets,” you hum innocently, deciding to send him another picture.

It’s a simple photo without context some might not even understand. It’s just your hand but your fingers glistening with your arousal. 

Harry’s hand is about to crush is phone into bits as his eyes roam the picture. He was nearly panting, already able to imagine the taste and smell.

He takes a deep breath before he threatens you, “if you don’t pull your desperate little self together right now- I’m not going anywhere near that needy cunt and I’ll make you spend all night choking on me.”

Instead of the typical, sad whimpers he expects to hear - he receives a patronizing, high-pitched giggle.

“That’s not how it’s going to work tonight, H,” you inform him in a matter-of-fact manner before continuing, “we’re playing by my rules.”

Your husband laughs in disbelief, echoing against the bleak bathroom walls, “and what those rules, sweetheart?”

“You’re going to go sit through your nice little dinner, rockstar. And I’m going to send you pictures, maybe some videos to watch to keep you entertained. If you don’t open them within three minutes each time and reply - you’re not coming tonight. The couch will have a blanket and pillow ready for you.”

If he was in charge, he’d laugh and remind you that you two have three lovely guest rooms he could choose from. But he doesn’t want to push it.

“Fuck,” Harry spits, having to cram his hand into his jeans to adjust himself so he doesn’t look like a pervert when he goes back out.

But he was so fucking game.

He’d do anything you wanted from him - no matter if he could embarrass himself in front of business partners or fans. He was besotted, whipped, whatever you wanted to call him.

“Are you going to be good for me, baby?” You coo tauntingly, from the other end of the line. Basking in his little huffs of air and the agitated lift in his voice.

“Yeah, m’gonna be good,” he murmurs gruffly, his demeanor had changed now that he wasn’t in charge any longer - always willing to let you be dominant when you wanted to be. 

It wasn’t often - but when you did, Harry would fall into a nice, fuzzy headspace of compliance and submission. He always wanted to please and this amplified all of his desires.

“Best husband I could ask for, you know?” You reward, knowing that the games are just getting started and you wanted to make this last.

“I love you s’much,” Harry automatically returns, with deep devotion and honesty. His voice as sweet as maple syrup.

“Are you hard, H?” 

He grips himself, like he’d just remember, “m’really fucking hard for you.”

“Snap an picture for me, pull yourself together, and then go back to your table - don’t forget the rules.”

“Yes ba-“

Then you end the call while he’s talking.

Harry’s a little shaky as he swipes onto his camera. He grips the thick outline of his cock, rings glinting in the dull lights, and takes a picture.

He hopes it’s good enough and quickly sends it before splashes some cold water on his face and thinking of anything but his naked wife laying at home in their bed - wet and horny.

Jeff gives him a side-eye when he sits back down, casually throwing a napkin over his lap because he can’t help the semi that refuses to go down all together.

“You alright?” His manager asks him, the others still in the throws of tour venues and vendors discussions.

Harry nods, lying easily “the missus couldn’t find her phone charger - thought I nipped it.”

“You do love to steal those,” his friends agrees before cutting off one of them men to suggest three days at Madison Square Garden instead of two.

Harry’s clutching his phone like a lifeline, anticipating the indicative text vibrations that let him know you’ve sent something.

However, despite how many times he checks, fifteen minutes pass and still nothing has sent from you. He almost starts to worry if you’re okay.

But just like the sneaky little thing you are, you wanted to give him enough time to calm down and relax before rilining him up again.

When it finally alerts him, he’s unlocking his phone and opening the message thread as fast as possible. 

The picture makes his jaw almost drop on the fucking carpeted floor. You’re in one the large closets in your home- the one that holds all of his Gucci suits in particular.

There is a massive floor to ceiling mirror in this room that you’re standing in front of. You’ve slid on one of his custom silk Gucci button-ups that has styles embroidered on the breast pocket without doing doing up any of the buttons.

He’s an absolutely goner for you in anything that makes you look like his property - the large engagement ring and wedding band on your left ring-finger satiates that feeling quite well.

It takes he a moment before he realizes what else you’re wearing. Your fucking collar. It sat tight around your neck, the expensive leather biting into your skin.

Your one hand was holding the phone and the other had a hand teasing at one of your hardened nipples through the silk fabric of the shirt.

He keeps his phone in his lap with a dim light setting so nobody can risk a chance at seeing such explicits pictures of what’s his.

You look so good with my name on you, baby. Please, want to see you in just the collar, take off the shirt.

Harry fumbles along with the conversation, that’s revolving all around him, “Yeah, I loved Argentina. Definitely want to got there again.”

Buzz.

How’d you already forget I’m in charge? Maybe I’ll just go to bed if you’re not going to follow instructions.

As punishment - if you can really call it that - in the next image you don’t have the collar on any longer and you’ve done up a few buttons on the silk shirt.

Harry feels panicked at the thought of you stopping. He was in a nice, soft headspace clinging onto anything you were willing to give him - desperate to make you happy.

I’m sorry, baby. I’ll be good for you. You’re so fucking sexy. I can basically taste you on my tongue.

“Harry?” Jeff draws him out of his haze. He’s looking at him expectantly, eyebrow quirked, and a martini in his hand.

“What did you say?” Harry asks, eyes itching to dart back down to the screen of his mobile.

“Would you want Kacey to open for you again in North America?” Jeff repeats with annoyance.

“Oh, uh-yeah, that’d be great,” he tells them without really think about it.

He should be paying attention to this pretty important meeting but he can’t when he gets another alert.

The video is back in the bedroom, your delicate fingers sliding down your torso with the button-up pooled around your ribs.

Your hand slowly, at a near crawl- traces down with the camera until the manicured tips of your fingers are at your mound.

Harry’s stomach is tensing in excitement as he watches your fingers dip into the part in your slick, swollen folds.

He has to bite back a groan when the video cuts off and he reads the text below the attachment.

Was this the pussy you enjoyed eating so much you won a Grammy writing about? Was Howard right in his interview?

If Harry was in charge, he would have delivered a few resounding smacks to your arse for how cocky you were being - despite it being the absolute truth.

Did he write and win a Grammy based on a song about how much he loved eating his wife out? Sure fucking did.

Baby love. Yeah, wrote it about you. Write all my songs about how much I love you and your body. Everything is yours.

Harry is so good when he’s subby - is the thing.

Harry was a sappy sod anyways, always ready to tell you how much he loved you and thousand of other sweet things. This just amplified all of his warm, fuzzy emotions.

Send me a picture of your left hand

He hesitates for a moment, still nodding along to the ebb and flow of the business talk but having no actual idea what they’re talking about.

Harry places his large, wide hand flat on the table in front of him. He knew why you wanted his left hand - you were just as possessive as him. 

You want to see his long, slim fingers that feel so good inside of you. You want to see the glimmer of his wedding band as well as the tattoo of your name on the outer curve of his hand.

He doesn’t think to turn off his flash. It ends up going off in the dimly lit restaurant and blinding the table, reflecting off the silver flatware. 

He looks like a complete knob - taking a picture of his hand but also something weird Harry may do anyways and upload to his Instagram.

The men blink a few times and look at him with a confused expression. Jeff jabs him roughly in the side.

“Uh, snapchat streak,” he mumbles, tucking his phone back into his lap and sending it.

You were cutting it close, babe. 2 minutes, I don’t like waiting. But fuck, who’s name is that on your hand, who’s that ring for?

You, you baby. All of its for you, promise. I belong to you, only you for the rest of my life.

The response is quick.

But...you have girls falling at your feet, lining up to blow you.

A direct quote for the interview today. Brat - she knew how he hated when people assumed or talked like he had no self control or morals.

Only want your mouth, your cunt, your tits. So bloody gone for you, baby. Please send me another video.

He really shouldn’t be egging you on.

Your being greedy but you’ve been following the rules so I’ll allow it.

The video does not disappoint. You’re hand is nestled down between your thighs, pinching at your puffy, stimulated bud. Just the amount of pain you like. It’s a short clip but it has him wriggling in his seat.

He watches it again but before he can finish it - Jeff is snatching his phone out of his shaky hands and tucking it into his own pants pocket.

The manager’s obviously sick of the lack of focus and honestly, how disrespectful Harry’s being which is something he usual never is.

“Pay attention,” he whispers with a sharp, irritated tone before clapping Harry on the back to play off the scolding to the group.

Harry feels a knot form in his stomach as his phone sits stagnant in his friends pocket. His wife sitting, impatiently waiting for his response that she’s not going to get.

He watches his vintage wristwatch as fifteen minutes pass, he hears a few buzzes from his phone that go unattended.

Harry’s not fuzzy anymore - well not in a good way. He has anxiety bubbling in his tummy and his semi had finally disappeared from nerves of disappointing you.

He decides to engage in the conversation to keep his mind off of what is waiting for him at home. He craved to look at those images and videos again. To have it in real life.

**

It had been three hours since he responded. The people at the table insisting on dessert and alcoholic coffees despite Harry saying he was exhausted from a long day of promo.

At the end of dinner, Harry would love to lie and say he’s recovered from his shakiness but he hadn’t.

After shaking the hands of the record label men, he walks to his car with Jeff. He gets a nice talking to before his phone is being placed back into his hand and he’s sliding into his obnoxious vintage Ferrari.

He takes a deep breathe before he unlocks his phone. The buzzes he heard where not all from you. A few from Twitter, his mum, Niall. There was only one from you.

Game Over. You lose.

—

Thank you for reading💕🥺

[noyaism]

No Manners

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: enemies/rivals to lovers, public sex, hate sex, heavy degrading, edging, choking, overstim, teasing, size kink, power dynamics, sir!Tsukki, dacryphilia, humiliation, spanking, slapping, exhibitionism, sadism, masochism, dumbification, creampie, this shit is pure filth (let me know if I missed any warnings!)

Song Inspo: No Manners - Superm

If there was anything you prided yourself on, it was being the smartest person in any given room you walked into. School had always come so easily to you, no subject too hard, no concept you wouldn't understand. That was, until you got to college. University was a beast unto its own, and it showed you that maybe the genius you had always believed you possessed could indeed be threatened. 

While you found yourself at the top at almost every single class you took, your economics class was your Achilles heel. It irked you how the information just didn’t seem to mesh with you. It made you feel so inferior, and that wasn’t something you were used to. It also wasn’t something Tsukishima Kei was used to, however, thanks to you he was feeling a new sense of inferiority that was completely foreign to him. He, like you, was used to being at the top of his class, nobody coming close to him academically. Then, he got to university, and unfortunately for him you two shared a major, and took the exact same classes. It was odd enough in the first semester, and when it ended he was so glad to finally get away from you, and to regain his status.

Then the second semester came and once again, you both signed up for the exact same classes. This time was different, though, because finally, Tsukishima held something over you; you couldn’t understand economics to save your life, and it came to Tsukishima as easily as everything else did. 

Understandably, the two of you had developed a bit of a rivalry. It would come around every so often that Tsukki did better than you on a test, scored higher in a lab, and it drove you insane how he would rub it in, so when you did better than him, you did the same. The two of you were starting to hate each other’s guts. However, you were on the verge of failing your economics class, and there wasn’t going to be anyone better to help you study than Tsukishima. When you asked him to help you study he straight up laughed in your face, entertained by the fact you were actually coming to him for help. It was such a stroke to his ego, he couldn’t possibly say no. 

You two scheduled a study session for the following Friday evening. You met in one of the study rooms up on the third floor around five, intending to stay for a couple hours. Tsukishima had arrived a little early, as you walked in you saw him with his notebook and laptop out on the table, writing down some notes. You took a seat next to him, getting yourself ready to begin. As he attempted to explain all these concepts to you; rambling on about monopolies and price ceilings and deficits, none of it was clicking. You asked him to explain things time and time again, and he was getting visibly irritated the more you seemed to not be getting things.

“You agreed to help me study, Tsukishima. You can't go on and complain now that I don’t get it, you knew I didn't.”

“Yeah, I got that part, but I wasn’t expecting you to be this utterly dense.” 

You folded your arms across your chest, letting out a small huff under your breath.

“You're such a dick.” You muttered, not thinking much of the remark. It was an unequivocal fact that anyone who ever came in contact with him had to know, which you yourself already knew quite well, but you hadn't expected him to be this bad personally. You thought since you were undoubtedly better at him in any other subject you would at least be spared of his ill mannered remarks, but it seemed to be the opposite; he'd get on you because you were so much better at him in everything else. It was the one thing he held over you, and he was going to make the absolute most of it. 

“What did you call me?” He asked, snapping his head in your direction. 

“I called you a dick, because you are. I get it, okay? I don’t understand the material, it’s above my intelligence level, I’m the dumbest bitch in the world. Cool, fine, awesome. If tutoring me is that much of a pain I’ll just go, alright? Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Utterly fed up, you tossed all of your things into your backpack and got up from your seat, starting to storm away. Tsukishima watched you as you went for the door, only momentarily, before getting up and following behind you. You barely got the door unlocked and open before a forceful push of a hand from above shut it, and you turned and looked up at the man, confused as to what it was he was doing.

“We aren’t done studying.”

“Yes we are. I can’t take your shit anymore, I’m done.”

“No, we’re gonna stay here and work on this until you get it,” He lowered himself down to make more direct eye contact with you.

“Got me?” He finished, once the two of you were level. You let out a chuckle, shaking your head a bit. This situation was unbelievable, and he was totally impossible. You weren’t sure how much clearer you could possibly get, but you had no problem reiterating yourself.

“No, I don’t. Makes sense that I don’t, right? ‘Cuz I’m ‘utterly dense’, as you said.”

“And incredibly mouthy, apparently.”

“Only when dealing with assholes like you.” Tsukishima let out a chuckle of his own after that line, straightening himself up and looking down on you once again. You hated when he did that, but it wasn’t like he had much choice, he towered over your much smaller frame. It personified your current situation almost too well. 

“You know, someone should put little girls like you in their place.” He fairly quickly retorted.

“And someone should knock tall elitists like you down a peg.” You scoffed. 

“I’d love to see you try.” Tsukishima took a couple steps back from you after speaking, as if to quite literally challenge you to do something. You weren’t a violent person to say the least, but at that moment you would’ve paid good money to punch the man before you in the face, and it seemed you were going to get the opportunity for free. How could you possibly pass that up?

You dropped your backpack onto the floor, lurching forward at Tsukishima before it even hit the floor. To your utter surprise he caught you before you got too close, his hand wrapped around your neck. It was nowhere near a tight grip, but it left you breathless, and forced you to look up at the blonde. There was this smirk on his face, like you had done exactly what he wanted you to, like he now had you in the palm of his hand. The look in his eye was so devilish, nobody had ever looked at you like that. You almost didn’t know what to make of it, almost.

“Now now, dumb little whores like you don’t get to touch me.” The pure filth that fell from his lips confirmed exactly what you rationalized from his gaze. It was all you needed.

“Fuck me, now.”

Tsukishima needed no further instruction, moving his hand off your throat and down to your thigh, pulling your leg up and prompting you to wrap yourself around him. He caught you midway through your small jump, and in an instant your lips crashed together. You couldn’t shake just how angry he made you, and he couldn’t shake how sexy you looked when you were mad. That little body of yours held so much aggression in it, and since he was more than willing to let out the beast in you, Tsukki was just as willing to tame it.

In fact, he would take great pleasure in doing so.

Tsukki walked back over to the table you two were sat at, placing you down onto the cold, manicured wood. The exchange of your lips was filled to the brim in the most carnal, lustful intent. The two of you fought for dominance with it, neither of you having even the slightest intention of backing down. Tsukishima was already more than frustrated with you, and your attempts to gain control of the situation weren't helping. 

With a swift move he pulled away from the kiss and brought a hand around your neck once again, this time giving it a fairly decent grip. His face looked so calm, like this was nothing he hadn't done before, but his actions told a completely different story. How he managed to keep his expression so composed while taking full control of you made a shiver run down your spine, and the heat between your thighs grow exponentially. 

“Listen; I’m the one in charge here, y/n. What makes you think a tiny, powerless slut like you could ever even attempt to control someone so much bigger, so much stronger than them, hm?” 

“I-I dunno…” You stuttered out, much to Tsukishima’s liking. 

“You don’t know, that's exactly what I thought. Well then, let me teach you where your place is.” While his left hand maintained its place around your throat, his right hand snaked up your thigh and under your skirt, his fingers ghosting over your clothed sex. The faint contact made you whine, you couldn't stand how badly you needed him to touch you. Your eyes pleaded for him to do something, and he basked in the glory of making you so weak so quickly. He then obliged, rubbing small, slow circles onto your clit.

“Your place is right here; being dominated by me. You will feel pleasure only when I allow you to. You will cum only when I allow you to. You will be obedient, and you’ll love every second of it. Am I understood?” 

You nodded your head with what free range of motion you had, your hips bucking in the direction of his fingers, trying to gain more pleasure in the only way you currently could. 

“Use your words, and address me only as sir.” He instructed, moving his fingers away from you. It was bad enough his moves were teasing at best, but denying you of any contact completely was infinitely worse.

“Yes, sir. I understand.” 

Tsukishima let go of your throat, using both hands to undress you, leaving you in nothing but your panties, which were horribly stained with your eagerness. It stroked his ego immensely, looking at the girl who plagued his mind, who made him feel so inferior so many times, naked in front of him, so ready to be ravaged by him. So exposed, so pathetic, but so undeniably sexy. 

He pulled up a chair, taking a seat in between your legs. His fingers danced over the skin of your inner thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You felt so needy all you could do was whine, not a single beg or plead coming from you. He hooked a finger onto the side of your panties, pulling them over to get a good look at you. Your pussy glistened under the fluorescent lights, coated in wetness you had never experienced before. It was like a work of art for Tsukki, who took a minute to admire the piece before he pulled your underwear off of you entirely. 

He took his left thumb and ran it down the length of your sex, dipping between your folds before coming back up to your clit, finally starting to please you again. A moan slipped from between your lips, filling the quiet of the room. Tsukishima brought two fingers from his opposite hand up to your lips, and without needing instruction you allowed them entry. Your tongue swirled around his digits, a slight hum ringing from your throat as your oral fixation was satisfied. 

His fingers left your mouth with a small pop, and they were brought down to your core. They prodded at your entrance, teasing you by the anticipation of entry. You wanted it, wanted it so bad it was much more a need, and at that point you weren’t too proud to beg for it. Just as your lips parted Tsukishima pushed them into you, a whine coming from you instead. You fell back onto the table, your back arching off the wood as his fingers worked wonders unknown on you. With an upward curl he brushed up against your g-spot, your hips bucking upward in response. The pads of his fingers massaged the rough patch of flesh momentarily, making your legs shake as helpless little curses fell from your lips.

As he began pumping his fingers again he also sped up the rate at which his thumb circled your clit, and it became quite clear to Tsukki that your orgasm was approaching, and was doing so fast. You could feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter, it was almost unbearable. You heard his voice say something, but your head was spinning you could barely make it out.

“Answer me, slut. I’m not repeating myself.” Was all you could make out, but considering you didn’t know the question, it was an impossible feat. Just as your orgasm was about to arrive Tsukishima removed his fingers from you, his thumb ceased all movement, and you were left with a ruined orgasm and your hips bucking into the air.

“You’re not cumming until you can answer one of my questions correctly. That should be good enough incentive for a stupid, needy little bitch like you, right?” You propped yourself up on your arms, looking at Tsukishima in utter bewilderment. You couldn’t believe what he was saying, or that he was going to make you answer questions in order to cum, but you had to admit he wasn’t wrong. It was a pretty good incentive.

“Y-yes sir.” 

With a quick smirk Tsukki sank his head down between your thighs, his tongue dipping into your pussy, savoring your delectably sweet taste. His his hands held the backs of your thighs, giving himself unrestricted access to your sex. His tongue flicked over your clit every so often before lapping up your juices again, until he finally gave the bud uninterrupted attention. His lips latched around it, starting to suck as his fingers entered you once more. Your back arched sharply, and your hands moved to tangle into his hair, tugging on the blonde strands. Before you could even process what it was you had done, Tsukishima was hovering above you, slapping your cheek before taking a rough hold of your chin.

“I told you not to touch me, did I not?” You nodded your head frantically,

“You d-did, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you will be. Off the table.” 

You followed your instructions, and as soon as your feet hit the ground Tsukishima pulled you onto your knees, and held your chin in his hand once again, forcing you to look up at him.

“I don't think I need to tell you what to do here, do I?” You shook your head lightly, your eyes full of wonder as you looked at him. 

“No, sir.”

“Good, then show me that you're actually good at something.”

You shimmied in between Tsukishima’s legs, frantic hands fiddling with his belt as you tried to get his pants off as quickly as possible. You didn't know what was causing you to be so eager, but something in you urged you to act as quickly as possible. As you pulled his pants and boxers down his erection sprang free, the pure size of him catching you off guard. You were no inexperienced woman, this wasn't your first time seeing a penis, but you had yet to deal with anyone of his size. It was a bit intimidating, if you were to be completely honest. 

As you were told, you weren't allowed to actually touch him. You presumed if you used your hands at all it wasn't going to end well for you, but to that you could fairly easily oldige. You licked a long stripe from the base of his length up to his tip, your tongue pressing along a vein that ran that same course. You circled his tip before sucking on it, letting out a satisfied moan around him as his precum leaked out onto your tastebuds. 

You started to take him further into your mouth, each bob of your head adding another inch until you had all of him. Your eyes watered as you felt him in the back of your throat, and you gasped as you came up for air. Tsukishima looked down at you, smirking as he saw a tear run down your cheek.

“You should do more of that.”

“More of what?” You asked, tilting your head in confusion.

“Crying for me.” 

Tsukki took hold of your hair, forcing his cock into your mouth and once again making you take the entirety of him. He held you there, letting out a groan as you choked around him. He brought you up for air and marveled at the tears running down your face, and the desperate look in your eyes. It was art for him and him alone to scrutinize, and he was most certainly a fan of the piece. Before you could fully focus your attention he was in your mouth again, his hips pushing up off the chair as he fucked your face. You gagged around his length, the sounds remarkably gratifying for Tsukishima to hear. 

He brought you back up for air one final time, holding your head up so the two of you made eye contact. He chuckled at you, admiring your current state. Spit dribbled from the sides of your mouth, tears spilled out of your eyes, and you were perilously trying to catch your breath.

“Messy little girl. You're looking more and more like the stupid little slut I've always known you are. Cmon, say it for me, tell me you're a stupid little slut.” 

As if his words weren't degrading enough, this request was surely the icing on the cake, the cherry on top of the sundae. He had you exactly where he wanted you, powerless and obedient. Just a small little toy for him to play with how he pleased. He wasn't satisfied with your lack of obedience, and slapped your cheek once again, roughly grabbing your face after.

“I wasn't giving you an option. Say it.” He demanded.

“I-I’m a stupid little slut.” You complied, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I can't fucking hear you.”

“I’m a stupid little slut!” You repeated, much louder this time. Tsukishima let out a satisfied chuckle, nodding his head. 

“That's right, and who's stupid little slut are you?” 

“Y-your stupid little slut, sir.”

“That’s right.”

Tsukishima pulled you up off the floor, laying you out on the table. He pulled his shirt off, your eyes combing over every little detail of him. You knew on top of being a student he played volleyball, so he had to be fairly muscular, but you weren't expecting what you got. He had a body even Odysseus would be jealous of, making you the ever loyal Penelope.

Tsukki lubed himself up with your wetness, as you were far from falling short of it. No man was ever this rough with you, ever this dominant. It turned you on more than you would like to admit, but there was no need to with Tsukishima. He could tell from the look in your eyes, the tone of your voice, the way your hips slightly bucked as you sucked him off. 

Without warning his tip began to prod at your entrance before starting to slip in. It was no easy feat, though. You were incredibly tight, and even then you hadn't taken anything even close to Tsukishima’s size. He took things slow, watching as every inch of him stretched you further. You whimpered at the sensation, it was intoxicating beyond what your words could even describe. A groan slipped between his lips as he bottomed out, light curses following it. The way you tightened around him made it so hard for him to control himself, but he knew you needed a moment, and he wasn't trying to hurt you.

Not at the moment, at least.

You nodded your head lightly as you felt adjusted, giving him free reign over your body once again. Tsukki grabbed your hands, pinning them above your head before he began to move. He slowly started to pull out, and with a sudden snap you were once again taking all of him, a soft scream coming from you. He did this a couple times, watching how your body jolted. Feeling how your thighs tensed up next to him. Each of these thrusts hit your cervix, sending you reeling each time. 

He picked up the pace, starting to pound into you at a relentless pace. You wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping him close and forcing him to go as deep in you as possible. Tsukishima brought one of his hands down to wrap around your neck, the other still holding your wrists in place. He gave the sides of your neck a squeeze, the lack of circulation rushing toward you just as he hit you with a particularly hard thrust. A light scream fell from your lips, the pleasure in that moment so crazily overwhelming. This routine continued; harder thrusts while he actively choked you, very slightly less hard ones as he gave you a moment to breathe correctly, all the while denying you of your high.

“You better not cum, slut.” He warned as he felt you once again starting to get just a bit too tight around him.

“W-wanna cum....so bad.” You weakly replied, tears welling in your eyes as you spoke. Once again, just as you were on the precipice of release, Tsukishima denied you again, pulling out and leaving you empty. Tears fell from your eyes as you uselessly whimpered and protested, all of it only earning you another slap to your cheek.

“Really thought I’d let you, huh? Dumb little bitch.” He said as he turned you over onto your stomach. He filled you up again, but before he moved any further he began raining spank after spank onto your ass. You could only assume it was punishment, but it felt far from it. The pain was nothing but masochistic pleasure for you, and sadistic pleasure for him. Each stung more than the last, and thus each felt even better than the last.

Your senses were so overloaded as he started to thrust into you again that your brain had turned to utter mush. Coherent thought was so far behind you it was like it was never something you could’ve done in the first place. The only thing you could process was pleasure, and to enhance it you lifted one of your legs back up onto the table, the other continuing to stay hanging over to keep yourself up. This new angle let Tsukishima hit sinfully deep in you once again, adding to the utter brainrot you were experiencing. Words no longer were an option for you, only whines and whimpers, a stray profanity at the very best.

Tsukishima grabbed a fistful of your hair, picking your head up off the table. He made you look in the direction of the door, bending down to speak into your ear.

“Look, you left the door unlocked. Someone could come in at any moment and watch you getting fucked like the little whore you are. But I’m sure you'd like it if someone saw us, wouldn't you?” 

You couldn't bring yourself to form any sort of coherent response, and Tsukki very well knew that. He chuckled at your attempt to reply, which was just a rhythmic whine as if you were trying to get some words out.  

“You're not very quiet, either. Stupid sluts like you like having everyone know how good they feel, don't they? I’m sure someone's come by to spy in, hearing how utterly pathetic you sound.” 

His words only made you whine and whimper more, your head in an absolute daze from the sheer amount of pleasure you felt. Tsukki let go of your hair and your head fell down, and you got a good look at yourself in the mirrored wood table. Your mouth was hanging open, your hair a tangled mess and drool slipping from the corner of your parted lips. He had fucked you so past dumb you didn't even know you could be this far gone, and all the while you still had no clue if you would be allowed to cum.

Your hips pushed back against his, meeting every one of his thrusts and forcing him deeper. Each time he re-entered his tip made quick contact with your cervix, the repeated feeling driving you absolutely crazy. Your eyes rolled back as you let yourself fall onto the wood once again. You took everything he gave you, all the while holding your orgasm back. Each time he felt you were a little too close he pulled out, you couldn't even count how many times you'd been denied release, you were sure the number was shameful. You could tell this was getting harder on Tsukishima as well, the twitching and pulsating of his cock inside you letting you know he was having trouble holding back as well. 

You saw no use in begging at this point, and you couldn't have mustered the words for it even if you wanted to. You simply whined and whimpered with every thrust, your body jolting forward each time. Tsukki held on tight to your hips, keeping you in place as he pounded mercilessly into you. In your daze all your senses had dulled, but you could hear just enough for Tsukishima's next four words to be heard, almost as clear as day. 

“Cum. Do it now.” 

In an instant you finally let yourself topple over the edge. Your voice was so hoarse you couldn't scream, rather you let out something between an incredibly loud moan and a whimper, your back arching and your legs shaking vigorously. Tears spilled from your eyes as your body was overrun by an orgasm unlike any other you had experienced. The feeling was only intensified by Tsukishima cumming inside you, depositing a sizable load inside of you. Your vision was blurry and a little white around the edges, and your chest heaved as you let out shallow breaths. Soreness set into your body as you took time to regain yourself, almost ten minutes passing before either of you even thought to move. 

Tsukki pulled out of you slowly, admiring how fucked out you looked, your small body sprawled out on the table. He figured moving would be hard for you, so he gently let your leg down and peeled you off the table, sitting down in the chair behind him and sitting you on his lap. Your head fell on his shoulder, your eyes still a little glazed over, but for the most part it seemed you had come to. 

“Are you feeling okay?” You nodded your head lightly, your breath finally leveling out. Your throat was pretty scratchy, and you knew your voice would be raspy, so you just didn't bother speaking yet.

“What have you learned today, then?” 

“A good couple things.” You croaked out, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. 

“Oh really? Enlighten me.”

“Well, I learned that economics is just something I'm never really going to understand. I also learned that you are a complete and utter asshole, even worse than I thought. Finally, I learned that you are a way more experienced man than I thought you were, and maybe I don't hate you as much as I was letting on.” 

Tsukishima laughed out lightly, giving you a bit of an approving nod.

“Good, I’m glad I at least taught you something. Maybe not what I originally intended, but learning is learning. I think with a couple more study sessions you’ll start to understand the econ material, though.” 

You didn't say this out loud, but the thought of getting to spend some more alone time with Tsukishima actually wasn't the most terrible thought in the world. It seemed clear enough to you that the resentment between you two was clearly something much, much different than that, and so you were open to the thought of exploring what it actually was. Maybe not in as much of an erotic way as you just had next time. Not that you would've minded if it escalated to that point. 

Although, you thought, if Tsukki was going to fuck you like that every time, brainrot from class material was going to be the least of your worries. 

The both of you made yourselves presentable again, packing up all your belongings and leaving the room clean before walking out, which you did fairly slowly due to how sore your legs were. You both walked through the library, which was overwhelmingly empty besides a few staff members working hard at hardly working. It was to be expected; it was a Friday night and you were the only two in the world who'd pick studying over any other activity. You stopped just outside the entrance, turning to your side and giving Tsukishima a wave.

“I guess I’ll catch you later then, Tsukishima.” 

“Oh, so no thank you for helping you study? I guess the one thing I didn't teach you was manners, huh y/n?” You chuckled at his comment, shaking your head a bit.

“Guess you didn’t. It’ll have to wait until next time.” You turned on your heel and started in the direction of the train. Before you could get far Tsukki grabbed your arm and pulled you back over to him, holding your chin so softly with his other hand, the action so outrageously condescending.

“Oh no, I’ll gladly teach you right now.”

[watchmegetobsessed]

ANOTHER TITLE

a/n: personally i’ve been waiting for this part to come since the beginning lmao, so here is the proposal finally!! it’s like so fluffy, almost disgustingly, but i just couldn’t help myself

pairing: Sebastian Stan X Reader

word count: 1.8k

This fic is part of the LITTLE ONE series, but can be read as a simple oneshot as well! Find the masterpost of the series HERE!

masterlist

(gif is not mine)

You’ve been eating like a hormonal teenage boy these past weeks and you know it needs to stop and held under control, but you just can’t help yourself. It’s like your stomach has become a black hole that needs to absorb any and every food that’s home, you’re constantly snacking beside the large portions you eat three times a day, there’s always something you’re craving, the shopping list on the fridge is changing every hour because you think of something else to eat.

Luckily, you haven’t gained that much weight besides the noticeable bump that’s your baby in your belly, seems like your little girl does need all the food and she uses it instead of letting it all get stuck on other parts of your body, so you’re fine for just now.

Sitting on the couch, watching some kind of soap opera, you’re snacking on an entire jar of Nutella this time, shamelessly stuffing your mouth with the sweet, thick stuff, pretty sure that nothing will be left of it by the end of the day. Sebastian is away again for his second filming that was scheduled even before you found out you were pregnant and he messed around with it a little, shortening it once again and you just visited him last weekend. Now that you are pushing the end of your second trimester, your bump is quite evident, not something you can hide easily, so when you showed up on set with your boyfriend, you didn’t even try to cover it up, knowing well someone would spot it sooner or later. However everyone on the team has been so respectful, keeping the news to themselves, because no headlines have been made about your pregnancy just yet, keeping the secret even longer. To be honest, you’re surprised it hasn’t been discovered sooner, you thoughr someone would catch you out and about and see right through your baggy clothes and sell the news to the tabloids, but now you are in the sixth month and no one knows a thing.

Your phone chimes next to you, a text from Seb and you hum to yourself happily, putting the jar aside to grab the phone and see what he wrote.

“How are my two favorite girls doing? Miss you a lot!”

He even attached a silly selfie of himself in hair and makeup, he looks adorable with the clips in his hair and some kind of patches under his eyes. Like a real beauty guru.

Grabbing the Nutella, you place it on top of your bump as you move the phone to a lower angle and take a selfie that makes your bump look even bigger, the jar on top and you grinning widely at the camera as you snap a picture and send it to him with your reply.

“Enjoying our third snack of the day at 11 am! Miss you too, can’t wait to see you next week!”

He reads the message right away, his reply coming just seconds later.

“Look at that bump! You look gorgeous, baby! Can’t wait to see you too, have fun with your sister today, love you lots Xx”

Since he has left you’ve been trying to keep yourself busy so you don’t miss him too much and you’re also using these weeks to spend as much time with your friends and family as possible, knowing well once the baby arrives you won’t be going out that much for a while, nestled up in your home, learning the ropes of being a mother. Today you are meeting up with your sister, she is taking you out to this alleged new, quite fancy restaurant you haven’t heard about before. She claimed that it’s really exclusive, so you don’t have to worry about being photographed or bothered, but she also told you to glam yourself up for the occasion. It’s gonna be some nice sister time, something you haven’t been able to do in a long time.

You take the assignment seriously, doing your hair and makeup the best you can and you decide to put on a flowy maxi dress with a soft, knitted cardigan, very much going for a kind of cottage core vibe. Leaving just in time you text your sister that you’re on your way, putting the address into the GPS and heading out of town, because the place is near the beach. She texts you back that she’ll meet you there and so your short little road trip begins. Sitting in the car you’re listening to one of the many playlists Sebastian has made for you and the baby, he likes to play them at home, humming the songs under his breath, hoping to start educating your little girl in the field of music as early as possible. You have to admit he has a good taste, so you don’t mind it at all.

As you follow the instructions of the GPS you find the place that’s supposed to be your destination, but it doesn’t seem like a restaurant at all, more like a mansion of some kind, a very expensive looking if you are being honest. There are no other cars, no sign of other people so as you park at the front you call your sister.

“Hey, I’m right outside, but I have a feeling I’m at the wrong place? It doesn’t look like a restaurant.”

“Oh, don’t worry! You’re at the right place! I’m a little late, but I’ll be there soon, just go inside, they are expecting us!” she assures you, but you’re still not convinced.

Ending the call you approach the entrance and for your surprise the heavy doors open before you could even knock or find the bell. A man in a tuxedo appears in front of you, smiling warmly at you.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

“Uh, yeah,” you nod, a little shy and confused.

“Please, follow me,” prompts as you walk inside and the two of you start crossing the grandiose hall of the building.

At this point you are sure it’s not a restaurant, but you have no idea why your sister wanted you to come here. You want to ask the man if you’re even at the right place, but he called you by your name so he was expecting you, this has to be the place where you’re supposed to be. More and more questions pile up in your head as you follow him out to the backyard, a gigantic, flower-filled garden that’s straight out of a fairytale, a path leading down to the beach where there’s a dreamy little pergola with even more flowers and fairy lights and as your eyes fall on the figure standing in the middle of the pergola, you immediately gasp.

Because surrounded with all the flowers and lights, there is Sebastian standing in an elegant suit, smiling widely at you as the man next to you helps you down the stairs before you start walking down the path to him.

Tears are flooding your eyes, because you already know what it is, but you can’t believe it’s really happening. He was so sneaky, he got home from filming earlier and even made your sister play along to surprise you, he is such a romantic soul, no one can change your mind about that!

“You’re not in Atlanta!” you tell him when he is finally close enough to hear you. He chuckles sweetly, taking a few steps forward to meet you sooner, his hands finding your waist as you cup his face in your hands, pulling him down to kiss you right away.

“No, I’m not, baby,” he smirks, his hands sliding to your belly, gently stroking the sides as you wipe your tears away, but there’s no use, because the next moment, he steps back a little, just enough so that he can get down on one knee and you’re crying again when you see him pull out a little velvety box from his pocket.

You were expecting it. You knew he would propose before the baby arrives, but you just didn’t know when and how, but he surely outdone himself with his little surprise.

“My Love, Y/N,” he starts after a deep breath, his hands finding yours and you can feel the shaking, but you’re not sure if it’s coming from yours or his. Probably both. “I’ve spent the best years of my life with you and I haven’t been the same man since the day I met you, but in the best way possible. You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met and I’m so lucky that you did not only choose to be with me, but you are now carrying our baby under your heart as well, out little one who is equal parts of you and me, though you’re doing ninety percent of the job here,” he adds with a chuckle, making you laugh through your tears. “I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you the moment you were so badass on your first date, kissing me when I didn’t have the balls to do the first step, but I’m glad you did. I fell in love with you right then and there and the same thing has been happening every day, over and over again since then. I know we went a little out of order with everything we had planned,” he smirks, glancing down at your bump before his blue eyes find yours again, “but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, so I have a question for you.”

He pops the lid of the box open, a gorgeous, brilliant diamond ring coming to your vision, sparkling in the warm afternoon Sun so perfectly, it takes your breath away.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” he asks, clearly nervous, even though there’s no doubt about your answer, you’ve told him plenty of times before that you want to marry him, but still, it’s a huge moment in both your lives.

“Yes, yes, yes!” you nod eagerly as you both start laughing in relief, his shaky fingers tagging the ring out of the box and sliding it to your finger gently, before he brings your hand to his mouth and kisses the ring.

Then he finally stands up and you basically throw yourself into his arms, kissing him like your life depends on it as he kisses you back with just as much force.

“I love you and I can’t wait to call you my wife,” he sighs pleased against your lips.

“Mm, another title in the line? Girlfriend, baby mama, fiancé and then wife,” you giggle giddily.

“You missed one,” he cocks an eyebrow at you slyly.

“Which one?”

“Love of my life.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[3desiderium3]

For your love

chapter two - Venus Doom

[ series masterlist ]

previous chapter | next chapter

pairings : reader x damiano david

story summary : damiano and reader are in very loving relationship that sometimes almost too quickly becomes too toxic for anyone likings

chapter warning (s) : basically I want to describe you how I imagine Y/Ns and Damianos relationship in the best way possible.

THIS IS NOT SOMETHING YOU SHOULD LOOK UP TO OR IDOLZE OR ROMANTICIZE!!!

slight angst , mentions of corruption , mentions of sex , mentions of abuse and some mental illnesses , god complex , mentions of various kinks ,

song recommendation - venus doom

Damiano David was a very complex person. He was a very hard to define persona. Adored and respected by many who knew him or not , never feared but was certainly often a main topic of various gossips.

He was very energetic and optimistic person , he loved to provide good time for the people around him but he also expected to be entertained. He was so artistic and charismatic, he had this cloudy velvety aura that could describe him as royalty.

He wanted everything or nothing .

He wanted to be dominant in every field he could reach. He was hardworking and stubborn.

He had a vision he didn't hesitate to fulfil.

His looks and his self presentation was mainly an act put up as guarding system and some sort of mechanism to prevent himself from bad outcomes.

Only his closest family , his bandmates ( whomst are also practically a family to him ) and his beloved dearest lover knew him truly.

Y/N however , knew him better than he did himself .

She was the first girl he let under his skin and under his layers of colours , luxurious presentations and egoistic posture.

He was bewitched by her. He opened himself up in all sort of ways he could to her.

She was the first girl he was making love to , not simply just fucking , but making love to, the first girl he ever cried in front of , the first one he introduced his ENTIRE family to , the first one he considered having their own family with etc .. etc ..

She was simply love of his life.

There was nothing much more to say about him than either to praise him or despite him.

Depending on if you wanted to be him / with him or if he stole your girl.

He was a sweet manipulative heartbreaker who was just simply along his fame and talent bored to death.

He cared about his physical appearance a lot , he took extra care when it came to facial and body hygiene and he loved to look good and markable.

He loved to dress fancy and he loved to wear accessories , he loved being in some dim spotlight.

He meet Y/N through his band mate Thomas , almost 3 years ago , and now they are dating 2 years in a row. Never breaking up but constantly fighting.

Her family loved him , I mean , everybody in her surrounding did. But their not so hidden aggressive and toxic relationship was not something they tried hiding.

He never laid a hand on her , only when fucking , he never cheated on her , only flirted to make her pissed , he maybe once beaten up a guy for talking to her , he never controlled her movements or tried changing her habits but he did liked to make bitchy comments trying to hide his jealousy and concern.

He had a huge pride along his ego that he was so damn skilled at hiding , but Y/N saw it instantly.

He was in fact often insecure when it came to dating , especially if it was a relationship he cared about.

He was not insecure about his looks , his habits , his actions , way of making love to a girl or if someone liked him or not. He was insecure if he is good enough at pleasing his partner in a spiritual and sensual way.

I repeat what I said . He always must be dominant.

So , in a situation like this , where you have a person whomst is consisted of su much pride and ego and insecurities , what are you going to do?

Y/N questioned her sanity and her mental health so many god damn times.

She was thinking for herself almost every second or third day if this is really what she wants for herself ? Is this the person she swears her life upon?

Yes.

And million yes in a row.

Damiano was a complex person with some certain needs that was just simply afraid of losing the most valuable person in his life.

His pride was not allowing him to admit that to her verbally , but his actions ( which Y/N knew like they where hers) gave him away.

So instead of reassuring himself somehow that their relationship is not in danger when it came to those simply and silly small things they fight over each day , he became violent and possessive.

His toxic and deadly behaviour and perfect skill of manipulation was the any way he thought was possibly good enough to keep her beside him.

She got hooked onto him.

She couldn't live a day without him. She would rather fight and yell at him than to leave him. He was her everything and so was she to him.

They where not so different. Y/N was also very capable of getting her way through manipulations and coping his actions.

But believe me... They where the sweetest and most dear people you could stumble upon.

They where both very supportive of each others carriers , they always had cute dates planned ahead and they had surprisingly the same hobbies.

They simply adored each other.

They where madly in love and it was taking over their racional reactions.

When a huge dramatic beyond the borders fight happens between them Y/N either gets kicked out of their apartment for the night or she simply leaves by herself.

In those times the only safe place is her parents house and she often heard her mother repeat the same damn words.

" Y/N I love that boy so much and he is very dear to me and your father as well , but he crossed the line again, you should start to consider if he is the healthiest option for you. "

Y/N hated her mother for being so right in such times.

Their mutual mental health was not a thing to brag about. They never mentioned paying visits to some kind of relationship adviser. They thought it was not needed , that they can handle themselves the best.

But Y/N did seek for some professional help and Damiano did not hold her back. He was happy even to hear about it. He never considered going for himself but he was happy and somehow sad that his lover could open to someone professional who could help her out with coping around stressful situations.

He was more than aware that he was causing her the most damage.

Their apartment was cozy , creamy coloured and modern. Their fashion taste was opposite yet similar.

They had a small dog and 2 gold fishes. They also planned to move into a bigger house with bigger yard once they decide on having family.

Damiano was convinced him and Y/N would be the most amazing parents a child could wish for , both of them spoiling their children with love and switching between good and bad cop role. He wanted a girl and a boy , in that order.

But he also wanted to focus on his career , Y/N as well.

Maybe those children will bring them closer to that inner peace they are eagerly searching for.

When it came to appearing together in public places they had one simple rule.

If I am not coming neither are you. They all shared mutual friends and they where always invited together on events and such things.

There was a difference actually.

When the band Måneskin, in which Damiano was lead singer , was invited somewhere Y/N always came , often mistaken for the 5th member or their menager. But in fact she way jealous of everyone landing an eye on her glorious boyfriend.

Those nights went peacefully some might say. But they didn't see the hand or thigh gripping under the table , the oral sex in public restrooms and silent eye language of hate and despite in their eyes . The kind of language only Y/N and Damiano knew for.

Y/N had a lot of friends. She was never forbidden to see them and she could go whenever as long as she was telling him where and with who she was , never turning her location off and always answering his calls and messages.

He had no problem with it , after all he followed her around secretly. She found out maybe 2 times out of 102.

Damiano is a type of ' a small circle of close friends and wide circle of acquaintances ' person. Victoria , Thomas and Ethan witnessed many fights of theirs.

Y/Ns best friend Y/Bsf/N as well.

The 4 of them would often exchange worried looks on their faces as Y/N would throw things at Damiano and he would shout such filthy and problematic stuff at her.

Ethan and Victoria had an intern joke that soon became something they rarely mention cause in each da they became more and more concerned for their friends.

" I don't need to watch porn , all I need to do is imagine Y/N and Damiano fucking after fight. "

Everyone thought that it was a phase these two lost themselves in. But it was not.

And it never got worse , it was always the same old tiring stuff between them.

Both of them where hard smokers , never considering doing drugs or overdosing with alcohol. Tho Damiano knew to drink beyond his abilities.

" If both of them would stop smoking , they could build two skyscrapers on the spot in one day. " Thomas and Y/Ns dad joked oftenly.

Thomas was the closest to Y/N out of the other band members. Damiano was never jealous of him neither did he felt like he could ruin their relationship.

First reason was that Thomas was the one who met them and thanks to who Damiano found the love of his life.

Second reason was that Thomas was beyond scared to even try thinking of doing something more than friendly to Y/N.

Victoria and Y/N had such a great friendship indeed. Having rare but meaningful girls night and sleepovers and rants about everything.

They cooked , went in shopping and shared topics about everything together.

Victoria was there for Y/N so many times listening to her cry on her shoulder about Damiano being an asshole.

Ethan was a huge softie for Y/N , he saw role model in her and he had just an amazing amount of respect for her. There was so much adoration between these two.

Damianos and Y/Ns sex life was yet another (not so much surprisingly) aggressive but consentive thing in their relationship.

It was built on mutual respect towards their partners needs. Simple as that is Damiano would never do and has never done something to make Y/N uncomfortable , same goes for her to him.

Before even sleeping together for the first time they detailedly talked about everything they where and where not interested in.

Their sex was rough, fast , aggressive , filled with degradation coming from his side.

Damiano was a switch top , but when it came to his so to say submissive side , it was expressed in very small amounts .

He loved being in charge , he was very flexible and he loved to use his tongue a lot , he loves to blindfold her and torture her , he loves slapping and biting into her soft creamy skin , shoulders , neck and chest especially.

He loved when Y/N left marks on his back and thighs from her sharp nails , he loved how she took good care of her hygiene and now she smelled.

He loved her hair and loved to squish her thighs. Did I mentioned he was into biting?

Y/N was flexible when it came to kinks , but she was definitely a switch bottom , it was just that she wasn't interested in being dominant and there was no need for it in her opinion.

She knew how to seduce Damiano , she knew very well.

After each time they slept together , regardless if it was fucking to realise all that stress or if it was love making he would always , but always ask her the same.

'Was it good , how are you feeling mio amore?'

Mio amore or simply amore was his favourite nickname for her . Aftercare was huge kink for them.

Damiano was not into letting Y/N leave visible marks on him , neither was he so much into marking her visible spots but sometimes when rage blinds him her porcelain heck is his canvas.

He loved planned dates and he loved bringing her various flowers every third or forth day. He never forgot about a single special day of theirs and he sometimes remembers the birthdays of her family members even before her.

He loved , and i mean loved spoiling her with gifts. Y/N also loved giving him gifts but more than that she loved to cook with him some delicious and various meals.

Damiano and Y/N where not near the perfect. But they where madly in love. And no one could ever take that away from them

A/N sooo as i sad on the beginning this is my personal view of the relationship these to have going on. This was in fact inspired by my personal experience and i want this story not fully to be a smut or nsfw but a kinda lovey one , just wanna say this is not kind of behaviour you should tolerate or romanticize !