#he’s making sure the passing ladies know he’s fruity like you couldn’t tell | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kira-fluff · 3 years

Note

please please PLEASE may we have a part two to the 'only one bed' piece you posted 🥺🥺 your writing is INCREDIBLE and I loved it so much 🥺🥺🥺 if u decide to do a part two then thank u so much in advance,, hope u have a good day 🥺

a/n: you asked for it (some others did too but this anon was so adorable so I’m replying to this one) so I’m gon’ give it to u <3 also, THANK YOU I am being 1000% honest that your comments seriously brought me to tears I was SO happy you all loved it. when I say pt.2, I kind of assume that it’s with the same characters (since no one specified others) so that’s what I’m gonna do!

Context provided, don’t worry babes

WARNINGS: sexual harassment, intoxication, extremely heavily suggestive (it gets pretty spicy)

Also contains spoilers from part 1 but like why would you even read part 2 if you haven’t read part 1? Get outta here and read it!! (Why is this even a warning? I don’t know don’t question my methods)

“There’s only one bed” [PT.2] PT.1

Saeyoung

You awoke to a sleeping Saeyoung, his toned arms enveloping your small body in a hug. Shamelessly, you laid still for a few moments longer.

When you’d noticed him stirring awake, you quickly shut your eyes once more, trying to conceal your growing smile

Saeyoung blinked a few times before registering at last where he was

He needed a little more time to register why you are in his arms

Pretending to be asleep again, you nuzzled further into his chest, letting out a soft groan

Saeyoung’s mind flew to DANGER MODE

He felt kinda guilty holding you in his arms because let’s face it there’s no way he isn’t enjoying this

He was so stunned that, for once, he was at a loss for words (shocking, I know)

Blinking out of his stupor, he murmured, “Y/N?”

His morning voice was... nice.

You pretended to “wake up”, fake yawning before saying, “Yes, Saeyoung?”, subtly batting your eyes a little

(It wasn’t subtle)

But since Saeyoung is an actual fucking moron, he can’t tell the difference

Play it cool, Seven. She can’t know that you know she was doing this all night and you didn’t do anything.

“Wow”, Saeyoung choked out a laugh, “I didn’t know you liked me this much.”

You look down, in between the two of you before slowly making eye contact with him again, smirking in disbelief, “I could say the same to you.”

A slow blush crept up his face at the innuendo

But he was NOT about to lose

Saeyoung Choi is NOT a loser

“Oh, yeah? Well, I wasn’t the one screaming my name last night.”

You gasped, “Screaming?! I didn’t scream -- I would’ve remembered a dream like tha-- Oh!” You quickly covered your mouth, already feeling regret seeping into every bone of your body.

Saeyoung openly chuckled, looking at you with a sort of darkness in his eyes

“You’re more dangerous than this whole mission.”

You were still out of sorts, failing to come up with a comeback besides a quiet, “I wasn’t screaming.”

A shit eating grin replaced the cool smirk on Saeyoung’s face

“I win.”

“Eat a dick, Seven.”

“Sorry, I think I’m more attracted to the one who was moaning out, ‘Oooh, Saeyoung~~~’“

You threw a pillow straight in his face, muttering a “shut up”, blushing profusely

Ever the competitive fucker, Saeyoung proclaims an all out pillow fight

It is WAR

Throwing pillow after pillow at each other in between giggles and taunts and jeers

“Take no prisoners!” you shouted, feeling unbeatable

Until Saeyoung grabbed your ass, pulling you down with him, earning a yelp from you

“What the fuck, Sev’?! You cheater!!”

“I don’t know, my hand’s a lot more comfortable here!”

You scoffed, “Oh, YOU! YOU are gonna GET IT!”

Saeyoung threw back his head in laughter but abruptly stopped when you grabbed his face with both your hands, and forcefully kissed him

He let out a “MMPH!”, eyes wide

Before, of course, kissing you back with equal force

Gasping for air at last, you spoke in between breaths, “I......win..”

“Actually, darling, I think I just did.”

Noticing your loss for words, he smirked before asking, “So.... what’s my prize?”

You didn’t have to be asked twice, “I think I have something in mind...”

His eyes met your own before slowly scanning your body, then snapping back to your eyes once more

You bit your lip

“I know you’ll lose at least one thing tonight.”

“Bold of you to assume--”

“Just shut up and kiss me again.”

Wish granted ;)

Yoosung

Yoosung glanced away, taking a deep breath before saying, “Yeah, yeah I did. I really like you.” You couldn’t hold back the big ol’ smile that took over your face as you proudly declared, “Me too!!” Right when Yoosung was going to go in for a kiss, he saw his auntie suddenly right next to the both of you

“Oh my GOD when did you get here?!”

She smirked, “My question first, dearie, what did you two like?” Neither of you answered, your cheeks growing red

“You know, the first time your uncle did it with me I felt the same way. Like, what a man! Must run in the fam--”

“OKAY! THANK YOU FOR THAT AUNTIE BUT BREAKFAST IS CALLING MY NAME MM SMELLS GOOD SEE YOU LATER.”

Your blush didn’t leave you as you smeared strawberry cream cheese on your toasted bagel. This trip was going to be very VERY difficult. Thank God there was alcohol. And Yoosung. And probably dogs. And Yoosung. Yeah. Gotta love relatives.

Following this stunning confession, you felt dumb because, well, you still didn’t know where you really stood with Yoosung

So when night came, you were ready to go to a party

Putting on your earrings and making sure your clothes were laid properly in place, you stepped out of the resort room to a waiting Yoosung

“H-hey, thanks for waiting for me,” You nervously tucked a stray hair behind your ear.

Yoosung avoided eye contact, opting for a stiff nod

You gazed deeper into the side of his head, feeling hurt.

But... you decided not to say anything.

Walking together to the reserved room the resort had made in preparation for Yoosung’s uncle was awkward, not a single word spoken between the two of you

When you arrived, Yoosung’s eccentric uncle immediately shouted, “’Sung ‘Sung! Get over ‘ere! We’re gonna have a part-ay!!”

You suddenly understood why Chaewon was the way he was

and why Yoosung’s parents forced him to go on this trip instead of themselves

Since you didn’t know his name, you opted for your nickname -- Uncle Alcohol

Cuz he had a LOT of it

In number, and in the amount he shoved down his throat at any given time

Seriously, how is this guy already drunk?!

You watched as Uncle Alcohol shoved a sloppy arm around Yoosung, not so quietly shouting something in his ear above the blaring music

You were too far away to hear, thank goodness, but you took note of the way Yoosung immediately blushed and shook his head fervently, his hands held in front of his chest

Before you could take in the atmosphere further, you felt a shiver down your back

Immediately turning around you saw the oh-so-famous Chaewon

“Heeeyyyyyyy babbeeheehe...... Wannnaaa..... sliiidee in my room tonighhht?” Laughing in a way what made you cringe and your ears numb, you replied, “No thanks, bud. You should probably get some water.”

“Nooo I want youuuu” Grabbing your boob in his hand, he laughed again, saying, “Nice”

Oh my god.. where the fuck is Yoosung??

You quickly slapped away his hand, shouting, “Stay the hell away from me asshole! Try anything else again, and I won’t give a shit that you’re drunk or Yoosung’s family, I will call the cops on you!”

He acted as if he didn’t hear you, but must’ve gotten the message because he sauntered over to another group of girls

Aren’t those his cousins? What the fuck is WRONG with that guy?!

The loud smack and curses answered the question. You didn’t attempt to help when you saw them proceed to beat the absolute shit out of him, blood and all.

What you needed was a drink. Something really, really strong.

You walked over to the resort bar tender

Something about your face must’ve given it all away because he began with a “Rough night, huh?”

“Do not even fucking ask me about it. God, please, I’m sorry that was rude. I just need something strong... just give me three fingers of rye.” You waved your hand nonchalantly, sitting at a bar stool.

“Are you sure, lady? You don’t look the type to handle that kinda liquor..”

“That’s kind of the point.”

He sighed, “Look... I’m not supposed to condone you getting completely shit-faced.. but you look like you need it tonight. I’ll make something a little easier down the throat, okay?”

You nodded, exasperated.

You didn’t know what it was, but it did the trick. It’s fruity taste easily passed down your throat, leaving you feeling lighter and more at peace.

“’nother one.”

He obliged, pouring another glass for you.

Four drinks in and your world was already unbelievably wobbly.

You were seeing double, looking at the bartender’s second form

You laughed, it all seemed to funny

Standing up, you stumbled over to the dance floor, grabbing one of Uncle A’s craft beers.

Dancing was fun for a few minutes, grateful no one had bothered you.

But you sat down, tears suddenly welling in your eyes

You were alone.

Yoosung.

Your mood brightened just by remembering his name

Giggling, you called out, “Yoosuuungg~~~” repeatedly around the room

One of the cousins heard your call, laughing because everything was funny, before grabbing Yoosung’s arm and shouting what they’d just heard

Yoosung quickly glanced over at you, brows furrowed. They softened a little upon seeing your drunken state

He’d had a beer or two, but the good feeling got old quickly and he sobered up by the time he’d noticed his cousins acting like complete fools

Upon seeing him, your smile grew to a big, childish grin

“Hiiii Yoosuuunggg...”

“Jeez, Y/n, how much did you drink?”

You giggled, playfully sticking out your tongue, “not sure~ a few.. probably..?” you laughed again, winking at him

“Hey, let’s get you some water, yeah? On second thought.. we gotta get outta here. I’ll carry you to our room.”

Your eyes shamelessly stared at his lips, not listening to a word he was saying

“Yoosunngg~~ I want you to fuck meeee”

Yoosung held the bridge of his nose in between his fingers, “L-let’s just go.”

Putting your arm over his shoulder, he carried most of your weight.

“Yoosuuung I want to have your babiess~~”

Yoosung blushed and looked down, continuing to walk, “You’re way too drunk.”

“Yoosunggieee I want to know what it feels like to have your d--”

He quickly shushed you, looking around for other observers

He basically ran to your resort room from there

Taking a long sigh as he finally had got you in the room, he wiped some sweat off his face

Just when he’d gotten up to get a water bottle for you, he heard retching noises

Before he could stop you, you upchucked all over yourself and some of the cheap resort carpeting

Groaning in physical and emotional pain, Yoosung muttered a quiet, “why me”

Before putting his arms under your arm pits and dragging you to the bathroom

He spent a good 10 minutes just trying to get the stupid shower to turn on because of course at any other place than your own house it’s never easy

Then, after getting the temperature just right, he forced you to down at least half of the water bottle

“Are you able to take off your clothes by yourself, Y/n?”

You giggled back, shaking your head

“Liar.”

“Help me take ‘em off pweaseee”

“No!”

You started tearing up again, your lip wobbling

“You know I can’t do that sweetie, you’re drunk.”

“No ‘m not.”

“Yeah, you are.”

You looked up at him before sighing and lifting up your shirt, fully exposing half of your naked body to him

He screamed like a little girl, running and slamming the door behind him

You pouted, “That’s no fun.”

After getting out of your clothes, you devised another poorly thought through plan

“Yoosunngggieee I need help washing myselffff”

“Um.. okay, lemme go see if I can get a hold of someone...”

“I want it to be you. I want it to be you who sees me like this. I want it to be you. Only you.”

“S-stop..” He said through the door.

“Please?”

Sighing, Yoosung knew there was no one who wasn’t drunk or available to help.

He did what any good guy would do. He proceeded to blind fold himself, opting for reaching his hands out to guess and where things were.

You laughed, “’Sunggiee you know you’re still gunna be touchin’ me”

“I’m not going to.”

“You said you’d help me!”

“Yeah, getting shampoo or something like that!”

“How ya gunna do that with somethin’ over your eyes?”

“I didn’t think it through that far.”

You sighed, conceding and attempting to wash yourself (which ended pretty badly) but, keeping his word, he managed to assist you the best he could without touching you.

He pitied the hangover you’d have... and the regret.

At last carrying you to bed after getting you another drink of water, he began cleaning the putrid stain you’d left on the carpet.

It was about 5AM when he’d finished, finally crawling into bed.

He thought about the way it felt last night compared to now

and he blamed himself.

He was the one that made you get so drunk you essentially passed out

Looking at you again, he sighed.

Tugging you close into his arms, he whispered a soft, “I’m sorry.”

Your subconscious must’ve heard him because you said in your sleep, “’s ok.”

Jumin

And suddenly your faces weren’t so far apart. And you couldn’t help but slowly close your eyes. Jumin was confused. He can be a bit of a pea brain, so he of course said, “I’m sure you’re very tired.” He shut off the light, reaching over you. You held back the big frown you’d gotten when you realized he’d rejected you. Unbeknownst to you that it took everything in him, from the moment he’d saw you in the jet cabin, not to scoop you up in his arms and make out with you the whole way there.

You were awoken by birds chirping outside the massive estate window

You made eye contact with an already staring, wide-eyed Jumin

Upon realizing you’d woken up, he averted his gaze saying, “Breakfast -- soon.”

You missed the crimson color of his face, instead getting up and stretching (like you didn’t learn your lesson last time)

Then, you made your way over to the fresh coffee that had been delivered to your room minutes before

Adding a shit load of cream and a dash of sugar, you turned to see Jumin staring at you. Again.

You breathed out a laugh, “What are you looking at?”

Jumin’s brows knit together for a split second before he again looked away, his soft blush never fading, “It’s hard not to.”

“Look at wha--” Your eyes grew wide in realization, looking down at the lingerie hardly covering your skin, Jumin’s shirt no where to be seen.

You screamed, making a poor attempt to cover yourself shouting, “Oh my god I’m so sorry I forgot!!”

Again, Jumin found his gaze resting on your body, stifling a groan.

He at last spoke, his deep voice reverberating throughout the room, “You... you’re making this all.. so much more ....difficult.”

You then grew defensive, “Made what difficult? Ogling at me without staying anything?!”

His eyes glowered with something you couldn’t quite place. “That’s not what I meant”

He walked slowly toward you, causing you to take steps backward

He’d backed you up against the wall, letting out a deep breath through his nose

With glittering eyes, he grabbed your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look up at him instead of the ground

“You’re doing on purpose, aren’t you?”

You gulped in anticipation, “D-doing what?”

Jumin raked his eyes down your body then looked back up at you with a sarcastic expression that said, “really?”

“N-no! I didn’t have a choice!!”

“Your clothes would’ve been dry hours ago.. if it really bothered you--”

“Well I was really tired from the jet ride and putting up with you!”

Jumin looked surprised for a moment before grinning sardonically, “Putting up with me? Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to control myself when you’re constantly grabbing me, touching me, everything!”

“I didn’t do all that on purpose!” Okay, maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but you weren’t about to admit that to him when he was being such a dick.

He laughed dryly, “Yeah, okay. All I’m saying is that I don’t find it very funny.”

“You think that you’re just some big joke to me?!”

“What other explanation is there?”

You were practically hysterical in your laughter saying, “You’re unbelievable.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenged.

“Yeah,” you glared back at him, your faces inches apart.

Before Jumin could realize what he was doing, he pulled your hips flush against his own, crashing his lips harshly on yours.

Letting out moans of both desperation and anger, your eyebrows furrowed as you deepened the kiss, gasping when Jumin slid his tongue so far into your mouth you swore you felt it going down your throat.

After what felt like hours, you parted for oxygen, both breathing heavily, before going in for another long, simmering kiss

You felt Jumin smirk against your mouth causing you to lightly smack his chest, hating that he knew he’d gotten a rise out of you.

He grabbed your wrist against his chest, slowly guiding it to his first button of his night shirt.

You made quick work of removing all the fastenings, nodding and obeying him when he commanded, “Jump”

Your legs tied round his waist, you continued to make out, pulling at the waistband of his pants.

Jumin moaned into your mouth before parting to say, “You will be the death of me, little spitfire.”

Let’s just say the whole fiance thing might not be a lie anymore.

Zen

Zen wanted to say something smooth like “I’ve always wanted to do that.” But instead he said “I’ve always wanted to do you.” He mentally smacked his head, blaming the lack of oxygen for his stupidity. But you smirked up at him coyly, replying, “Then why don’t you?” Um, yeah, rip your hotel neighbor he will literally hate both of you so much.

You awoke you Zen rubbing his thumb on your arm, basking in the morning light

He groggily said, “’mornin’ babe.”

“I’m ‘babe’ now?”

“What else am I supposed to call my beautiful girlfriend?”

You leaned up and kissed him softly, smiling.

“I love you, Zen. So much.”

“I love you, too, Y/n. If you didn’t already get that from when we...”

You laughed shyly, “yeah..”

“I know I skipped a few steps, but I have never been happier and more sure of anything in my life.”

You looked up at him, peacefully grinning.

“Hey, let’s get married.”

Zen choked on his spit, “R-right now?!”

You giggled, “Not right now, but soon. I dunno, we’ve been friends for, like, forever. Now that we know we like each other it seems like the next step.”

Zen looked at you, searching your face to determine whether you were serious or not.

Detecting that you weren’t joking he laughed airily saying, “Sure. Whatever you want princess.”

He kissed the top of your head, whispering, “You’re so beautiful, ya know that?”

Sighing comfortably, you nodded, falling back into sleep.

“H-hey! Wake up!!” Zen shouted, giving up and just cuddling up to you instead, stroking your hair gently.

The concert wasn’t until late that night -- he had time to spare.

....Even if he didn’t, he’d make time for you. - 3 months later

In classic Zen and Y/n style, you’d eloped shortly after the tour ended.

“Hey, Y/n? Have you seen my grey t-shirt?”

You looked up from your laptop, “Mhm, it’s in the dryer.”

He sighed, “Thanks babe”, before making his way down to the mudroom where your laundry was kept

He sifted through the hot laundry in the dryer, not seeing his shirt anywhere, when he hard a crash.

“Y/N?!”

He rushed out to the living room, glancing from the smashed coffee mug on the ground, to you.

“Y/N?! Are you okay?!!!”

You clutched your stomach in anguish, beads of sweat forming at your brow, “Y-yeah.. my stomach hurts so bad ‘s all.”

Zen was having NONE of that

He rushed you to the Emergency Room, holding your hand the entire time.

“It’s gonna be okay, Princess, I promise.” You nodded, before losing consciousness -

you awoke to a depressing hospital room, meeting Zen’s worried eyes.

“How long was I out..?”

“For a few minutes.”

You sighed in relief, feeling a lot better than you were when you were rushed to the ER.

All of a sudden, a doctor entered the room looking stern.

“I wanted to discuss the diagnosis with the two of you when you were both physically present.”

You blanched, looking at Zen with fear etched in your eyes.

Zen held your hand tighter, before saying, “What’s the problem?”

The doctor looked in between the two of you before letting out a little laugh, “There’s nothing wrong, actually.”

You both looked confused, Zen proudly saying, “Then why’d you look all doom and gloom when you came in here?!”

The doctor roared with laughter saying, “Eh, I get a kick out of the faces you guys make. Ah, now to the diagnosis.”

“There’s still a diagnosis?!”

You shushed Zen, nodding at the doctor.

He took a breath before saying, “Miss Y/N Hyeon, you’re pregnant.”

Both your eyes grew wide, mouths slacked

“O-oh, oh my gosh!!”

Zen enveloped you in a big hug, congratulating you (and also hiding his tears)

This man could not hold back the proud grin he sported for MONTHS

I simp for this prompt so if someone asked, it’s not like I could say no to writing it for more characters.......right? lol Also, I came to a realization that I made that a fanfic rather than a headcanon.. so oh well, right?

559 notes · View notes

geminidentitycrisis · 3 years

Text

The Scent of Leather and Hairspray

Present Mic/Hizashi Yamada x F!reader ONESHOT

(WARNINGS! - swearing)

---------

Sooooooo, I have a new favorite Pro, I guess haha

I hope you enjoy, and if you're underage, pretend you're older because I get it, I'd be Hot For Teacher too, but he's not a pedo sorry......

----------

You sighed as, upon exiting the store where you just purchased a frozen drink, the men you passed to enter that store started catcalling you. Just what you needed at the end of a rough day...

"Hey Honey, you'd be cuter if you smiled...!"

"Don't listen to that shit, babygirl, you're sexy as hell, c'mere and hang out a while...?"

Ignoring them the best you could, you kept walking, but they didn't take that very well. "You think you're too good for us, that it, stuck up bitch? Where you think you're goin'?"

You could hear their footsteps approaching behind you and turned to face them after sipping from your drink.

"Guys, please, I've had a hell of a day today and my quirk would probably scar you both for life and what do you say we just don't do this, huh?"

They exchanged glances before fixing you with threatening glares. "You think you're tough, babygirl? We'll see how tough you are when we get through teaching you some respect..." the first one said.

"HEY!"

A voice called from behind you and suddenly an arm was draped gently around your neck. You froze, being caught off guard tended to prompt a panic response when you were so tired.

You smelled leather and an overwhelming scent of hairspray.

"What's the trouble, my homies? Pretty sure ya heard the lady, she ain't jammin' to the vibe ya layin' down, ya dig? Beat it."

Heart skipping a beat or two, your eyes grew wide and a blush flooded your cheeks. "That voice...?!"

You whipped your head up to see the one and only Present Mic.

"Ah! I knew it! I knew I recognized your voice, I catch your radio show every day! You're the Sound Hero, Present Mic!" he flashed a grin down at you, winking.

"Oooh, you've got good ears, Listener! Thanks for Hypin' me up like that! Always great ta meet a FAAAN!" he responded in his commentator voice.

One of your would be tormentors interrupted angrily. "Hey, peacock head, why don't you mind your business?"

"PEACOCK...?! You boys best get ta steppin', aight?! Don't make me beat you up in fronta this pretty girl!" he replied in annoyance after his attention was so aggressively stolen from you.

The blush came back in full force and you couldn't contain a dreamy sigh as your lashes fluttered, eyes lidding contentedly now that you felt safe again.

*he said I was pretty~!* you thought.

"You believe this banana hair lookin' motherfucker? You're about to get your ass whooped, fruity!" the other threatened.

"Hey bro, watch your language! There's a lady here!" with the arm around your shoulders, Mic carefully raised it and guided you behind himself as the two started walking towards you both.

"Enough..."

Another voice came suddenly from the other side of the parking lot and everyone, with the exception of the blonde who was guarding you, turned to see Eraserhead.

Suddenly these jerks weren't so confident.

"Get lost, both of you, and go straight home or I'll bring the two of you in right now for loitering and harassment." he said calmly but with deep authority.

Mic crossed his arms, glaring at the duo as they ran off after a mere moment of hesitation, his cheeks puffed out slightly. "What a couple creepozoids! You okay, Pussy Cat...?" he quickly spun around to check you out, striking a dramatic pose while pointing at you, the trademark grin already back in place.

You smiled up at him with admiration sparkling in your eyes, clasping the cup you held in both hands and tight to your chest, stepping closer to him.

"Yes, thanks to you! You're my Hero~!"

Mic felt his own chest swell with pride a bit, the grin on his face getting bigger as he relaxed his stance and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.

Usually by now the damsel has already flung herself on Aizawa, but not only were you praising him, you recognized him from just his voice and he was impressed at that.

"I can't believe I was just rescued by my favorite Pro, I am your #1 fan! Please, are you patrolling the city tonight? Please let me buy you a coffee or tea or something?? Just as a thank you...?"

Hizashi laughed rather loudly, one hand emerging from his pocket to be placed over his chest.

"HAHA! Aaaww, how can I say NO when you ask so sweetly?! Coffee sounds like a rockin' idea right about now!"

"Ugh, we don't have time for this, Mic..." Eraserhead complained tiredly.

Eyes rolling in exasperation, the blonde groaned twice as loud. "ugGHHH!! Don't be such a buzzkill, yo! I'll get you one, too, just chill!" with that, he trailed after you back into the store.

You watched as he doctored up the coffee you poured for him, blushing again when he threw a hint of a smirk your way, using the tip of his finger to lift the gold tinted shades he wore and showing you his emerald green eyes. "Don't worry, I'll pay for my boring friend..."

Smiling, you bounced on your heels. "Damn right you will, I'm not HIS fangirl, after all..."

This promoted a slight blush to his face, but he maintained that knockout grin. "Ha! Well, good thing his best friend is here at least, lucky for him I tagged along tonight, huh??"

"Lucky for both of us..." came your soft reply from over your shoulder as you turned to walk away, your hips swaying temptingly had definitely not escaped his notice.

He followed you to the checkout counter and placed some money beside yours, his ungloved fingertips brushing against your own when he does. Leaning down closer to you, he cocked his head, pushing his shades down his nose this time and raising a brow.

"Does my #1 fan have a name...?"

Your smile bloomed again, blushing up at him. "It's _______...but I might prefer you calling me Pussy Cat...~"

Saying that last bit, you applied a sensual undertone which he picked up on instantly, making his blush spread over his face and grow darker as he chuckled in amusement.

When you guys walked out the door, you noticed Eraserhead seemed really annoyed but tried to ignore him, looking up at the Voice Hero hopefully.

"Listen, I know you're both busy, but if you have just one more second to spare, I can't tell you how much it would mean to me if I could get your autograph..."

Looking away awkwardly, he made a pained expression. "Aw, man, I dunno, we are kinda in a hurry here and stuff..."

You felt your heart sinking when he startled you with another loud laugh. "Hahaha, gotcha! JK! Of course I will, I ain't gonna leave ya hangin' like that, no way, that ain't my STYYYYYYYYLLLE!"

Giddy with excitement, you let out a tiny squeal, quickly fishing out a small notebook and pen from your purse as he set the cups down. When you handed it to him, his fingers brushed yours again, making you bite tenderly at your bottom lip.

They were so warm and soft...

He had started to whistle a cheerful little tune as he spun the pen between his fingers before starting to write in your book, it took longer than you expected, clearly longer than Eraser expected, too.

"Say goodbye to the girl, Mic, it's time to keep moving!" he didn't yell, exactly, too lazy, but he had raised his voice since last.

"YEAH, YEAH, I HEARD YA!!! Gimme a sec, ALRIGHT?!" the volume of the blonde's reply actually made your eardrums flinch and quiver this time, but you smiled anyway as he defended you again.

"There ya go! And hey, just to spite my buddy over there, I wouldn't mind walkin' ya home ta make sure ya get there safe."

The blush came right back, clutching the book to your heart, you gave a weak smile. "No, no, it's okay, really...I took up too much of your time already, and I only live around the corner from here..."

Eyes closing momentarily while you gathered yourself, you took a deep breath before confessing. "...I cannot express how grateful I am for you...not just for saving me tonight, but also for your talk show, hearing your voice over the radio gives me strength and motivation every week...it means the world to me...thank you..."

Beckoning him by flexing a finger, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a sweet kiss against his cheek when he leaned in curiously.

Eyes widening, his whole face became scarlet red and his grin stretched from ear to ear. "AW, YEAH!"

He jumped, pumping his fists in the air and then proceeded to shoot you with his finger guns while winking again. "Listen, I dropped my digits on that piece'a paper ya got there, Shawty...hit me up sometime if ya wanna chill! I'm down for whatever!"

You were caught off guard by that and checked the page he signed for you, finally reading what he wrote down as he rambled on as background noise about how he wasn't a creep like those other guys and you could say no without worrying about him making a scene, he just had to shoot his shot, I mean you DID kiss ME first ya know...

"For my #1 fan, _______...Thanks for the coffee and stay outta trouble! ...and maybe call or shoot a txt, if your feelin' this funky vibe, too? Live loud, Pussy Cat ;) don't ever let anyone try an put the mute on ya! XOXOX PRESENT MIC!!!"

Followed by his phone number, and there were little hearts drawn around the page.

You were already blushing when he surprised you again by returning your gesture and swooping in to plant a kiss on your cheek this time.

Reaching up to touch the spot, you smiled up at him shyly. "I can't wait...please be safe out there..."

"You got it! SEE YA SOON!" The Pro nodded vigorously, giving an enthusiastic wave of goodbye before grabbing his and Eraserhead's drinks, practically bouncing with every step.

It made you giggle, but you were trying not to get your hopes up too much. For all you knew, he gave his number out to every girl that asked him for a signature.

"Are you happy now...?" Shouta grumbled, taking the cup being offered as he turned to resume patrolling. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! HECK YEAH I AM! I'M ON CLOUD NINE RIGHT NOW, I JUST MET MY FUTURE WIFE!!!!!!!!"

You heard him very clearly, the blush traveling all the way down your neck this time, and you couldn't help another small giggle, your heart fluttering with happiness like the wings of the butterflies in your belly.

He just had that effect on you.

Glancing down at the notebook in your hand as you sipped your quickly melting frosty, you noticed in the bottom right corner was a little arrow, below which was written the word "flip".

You looked up again but the two Pro Heroes were already gone.

Curiously, you flipped over the page.

MARRY ME?!?!!

a. YES!!!!!

b. a

c. b

That smooth sonuvabitch had you blushing and giggling all night.

115 notes · View notes

honeymoonjin · 4 years

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 15.5k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: filmed sex/voyeurism/exhibitionism as usual, an extra lil tidbit of exhibitionism this time around though, thigh riding, choking/erotic asphyxiation/breathplay, degradation, dumbification, objectification - all consensual, but y’all wanted meandom jimin so i delivered, please read at your discretion - dom!jimin obv, sub!reader, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, punishment/discipline, footjob kinda (socks are worn, it’s not bare feet), aftercare as usual, mentions and implications of mxm

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and femboy friday

please note there are hyperlinks in this chapter ! they link to specific images that i thought might help you visualise some things ;) all links are safe

DAY NINETEEN

Your body clearly still isn’t right again by Friday morning, but it’s nothing a good breakfast can’t solve. Fortunately for you, Jin is more than happy to turn it into an occasion for a large, communal meal, and with barely any prompting, he’s whizzing away in the kitchen like a madman.

As you wait, you sip away at some vaguely herby-yet-fruity tea that he’d brewed you, watching his broad shoulders shift beneath his shirt when he chops vegetables, and his brows furrow in focus when he measures out spices.

“I don’t suppose I’d have time to- Nevermind,” Jin mutters at some point, carting a bladeful of crushed garlic from the chopping board to a simmering pan.

You sit up, ignoring the billow of steam from your mug. “Time to what?” He shakes his head, but you keep on him, watching his eyes dart to your figure leaning against the counter, and back at his work. With a gasp, you thrust the mug at him accusingly. “Were you going to put the moves on me?”

He scoffs low in his throat, but doesn’t respond.

“You were! Was making breakfast for me just a ruse, then?”

Jin turns around at that, lifting his brows and giving you a mock look of offense. “It was not! I’m just an opportunist, that’s all.” His shoulders sag. “But I don’t want the meat to burn, and it’s only time before the irresistible aroma of my delicious cooking reaches their doors and draws them down like rats to the pied piper.”

“Are you calling the others rats?” you ask with a giggle bubbling up your throat.

The cook pauses. “I suppose I’m not not calling them rats,” he allows, “but that’s not the point. I’m taking my time with you.” Perhaps the comment would be more sexy or romantic if he wasn’t using a kitchen knife to gesture.

Your interested piqued, you take a slow, thoughtful sip of the quickly-cooling dregs of tea. “You could always tell me,” you offer up, watching his head tilt in curiosity. “Tell me what you would’ve done to me if you weren’t worried about time. Or burning meat.”

His lips part slightly, a strange look in his eyes, like he’s appraising you. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” Though it’s probably meant to come off as a joke, his voice is too soft for it to carry. “If I tell you, I’ll have to change my plans for the prompt. Keep you on your toes?”

“Plans?” you question. “I thought you were an opportunist.”

Even though his back is faced to you, stirring some vegetables amongst the strips of meat, Jin speaks clearly, every word enunciated like it’s a mantra. “I’d kiss you ‘til you couldn’t breathe,” he begins, “and when you were overcome with need, I’d lift you on that counter and get to my knees. Eat you out like you were my last meal. Finally, if you still wanted more, I’d lie you down on the tile and fuck you well like you deserve.”

Your cheeks are hot, searing skin and throbbing pulse. Jin turns around to spoon the cooked stir-fry into a bowl on the countertop, looking far more unaffected than you. His eyes dart to you, a bemused and genuine smile quirking at his lips when he sees you flustered into silence. “It’s your turn,” he remarks in an easy drawl, placing the bowl beside you before he goes to the fridge to retrieve a carton of eggs. “What would you do if you weren’t worried about time?”

You take a breath, nostrils flaring at the rich mix of buttery vegetables and perfectly seasoned meat. “I’ll be honest with you, Jin,” you quip in a small, unobtrusive voice, “I’d probably get you to finish cooking first. This smells fucking incredible.”

Jin’s pealing laugh is punctuated by the cracking of an egg into the still-hot pan, and as the sizzling echoes through the room, you feel the air settle back into something lighter. Good timing, too, as it’s then that you hear footsteps behind you.

Before you can turn, your sides are crushed by a tight back-hug, arms wedged into your sides. “Feeling better?” a smooth voices asks, and you’re surprised to recognise it as Namjoon’s.

The academic had woken before you, so was fully coherent when you’d gotten up with a roiling stomach. With more than a tinge of concern, he’d let you shower first while he’d passed the message on to Jin, the only other awake member of the household. He now smelt fresh, like mint and citrus, and his skin still radiated heat from under his shirt.

He releases you just as quickly as he’d wrapped his arms around you, nothing more than a greeting, and Jin doesn’t even lift a brow at the affectionate display.

Before you can answer however, there’s a fourth party entering the room, a familiar sleepy drawl as Yoongi pads into the kitchen and beelines straight for the coffee machine. “Still sick?”

“Still?” Jin questions, narrowing his eyes in concern as he scrambles the eggs with the corner of a silicon spatula. “How long have you been sick?”

“Just since yesterday,” you deflect, “it’s probably nothing.”

Namjoon goes stiff beside you. “You don’t think it’s...you know? A problem with your birth control?”

Your eyes furrow in confusion before you process his words a moment later. “Oh, I- surely not? I have an implant, so it’s not like forgetting a pill or anything.” But the thought niggles in your mind, and you seek out Yoongi, who slumps against the counter while his drink brews. “It’s not like… morning sickness, is it?”

A disbelieving laugh leaves Yoongi’s lips. You gape at him, but he just waves a hand in dismissal. “Don’t stress about it. You have an IUD, right? They’re 99% effective, and morning sickness generally starts around the six-week period. When did you get the IUD?”

You think back. “Once I cleared all my tests for the show, I guess? I think it was a couple days before we came here. Why?”

Yoongi seems to wake up very quickly after that, face falling slack. “Wait- A couple days? First of all, unless you were having unprotected six roughly two to three weeks before you came here, I highly doubt you have anything more than a slight cold or at the most, food poisoning-” Jin shoots the doctor an accusatory glare, which Yoongi ignores in favour of abandoning his coffee and rounding the corner. “But I think we have a different problem to worry about.”

You blink, your sick stomach returning as his concern starts getting to you. “I wasn’t having sex at all two to three weeks before the show. But what’s the problem?”

Yoongi looks stern, what you imagine he’d look like in his clinic giving serious medical advice to a patient. “Were you on your period when you got the implant?”

Reflexively, your cheeks heat at the personal question, hyper aware of Namjoon, Jin and Yoongi’s collective attention on you. “No. Why?”

“Fuck,” the doctor curses. “Come with me.”

“What’s going on?” You take his outstretched hand, heart racing as he leads you towards the front door, away from the other two who wait in confused and concerned silence. “What’s happening, Yoongi, you’re stressing me out?”

Yoongi’s fingers squeeze yours reassuringly as his face softens, holding the door open for you. “I’ll explain when we get to Sejin’s van, sweetheart, you’re fine.”

Though the sun has well and truly risen, it’s relatively cloudy, and the two of you aren’t even wearing anything more than house slippers and socks as you rush across the gravel towards the production van. There are lights on inside, and Yoongi doesn’t bother knocking before he’s bundling you and him inside.

The van is relatively cramped, some modest floor space with a single bed and then every other surface filled with monitors, paperwork, and a bank of screens displaying the cameras inside the Villa. Sejin, with his bulky headphones around his neck and his chair faced towards you, clearly must have seen you coming, as your sudden entry doesn’t catch him off-guard.

“How can I help yo-”

“Did nobody do their fucking research?” Yoongi spits immediately at him, giving no introduction or pleasantries. “I know there are speakers in the rooms, I know you heard us, so you better start explaining otherwise if you’re not lucky you’ll be facing a massive fucking lawsuit.”

Sejin sighs, his eyes darting to you in sympathy, before they return to Yoongi. “The requirement was that Y/n was on birth control by the time the show began. She was.”

“Yeah, well, not effective birth control,” Yoongi counters.

“The IUD Y/n got is 99% effective. She and all of you signed off that using additional birth control such as condoms beyond that was your choice. If you’ve chosen not to, that’s legally not our responsibility. The condoms have been made available.”

You furrow your brows, finding comfort in his hand tightly cradling yours. “Yoongi, I don’t understand…”

The doctor sighs, pinching his brow, and turns to you. “Y/n, when you got the IUD, did they not warn you about the seven-day window?”

You feel the blood drain from your face, the feeling that bad news is imminent. “What window? No, the lady didn’t say anything.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” Yoongi curses, rubbing a palm over his face. “Well, listen up the two of you for a quick lesson in intra-uterine devices. If you aren’t currently on your period, they can take up to seven days to be considered effective. So while it’s highly unlikely that you have morning sickness right now, Y/n, I’m pretty fucking concerned for what may have happened during that first week.”

You bite down harshly on your lip as tears spring to your eyes, you naturally feel yourself wrapping your free arm over your stomach. “How do I- What do I do?”

Yoongi’s face softens at the action, and he turns to Sejin with a sigh. “You need to get an early detection pregnancy test, so that we can know for sure. Plenty of couples have unprotected sex without any pregnancies, so it’s not a definite, but we need to rule it out quickly so that Y/n can decide how she wishes to proceed. How quickly can you get one?”

Sejin, who had been looking greener and greener as Yoongi spoke, finally lets out a rushing breath, jumping up. “I’ll go down to a pharmacy now. Y/n; are you wanting to come with to do it sooner, or...?”

You sniff, shaking your head quickly. “Can you just bring it back here? I don’t want the others to think something’s wrong.”

Sejin nods stiffly, patting you once on the shoulder as he passes you. “I’m so sorry, Y/n, Yoongi’s right. We should’ve done more research. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Yoongi goes lax the second Sejin shuts the van door behind you, pulling you into a tight hug. “Either way, you’ll be just fine. You always have options,” he assures you, cheek pressed to your hair, rubbing your back.

Like your mind is desperate to find something to relieve your sudden crashing wave of stress, a hysterical laugh jumps out of your throat. “A fucking pregnancy scare,” you bemoan, “this is meant to be slutty Bachelorette but it’s just a slutty telenovela.”

Yoongi freezes when you begin laughing, but quickly falls in on the joke. “I even have a secret twin,” he jokes. “We better keep an eye out to make sure Jin doesn’t fake his death to steal the show’s budget.”

You sink further into his secure embrace, chuckling at his remark but quickly sobering up. “What am I gonna do, Yoongi? I can’t have a baby, especially not if it’s some- some mutant mix of seven different dads!”

“Sweetheart, please don’t stress yourself over it before you even know,” Yoongi pleads. “If it’s any consolation, that’s not how biology works at all. That would make for a riveting episode of Jeremy Kyle, though.”

You let out a groan. “God, how would they fit eight armchairs on the stage?”

Yoongi chuckles, smoothing a hand down your back before he gently breaks the hug. “Do you want to stay here, or go back inside and get something to eat? We don’t have to tell the others; Jin and Namjoon are mature enough not to ask pry, especially if there are others around.”

Your growling stomach answers the question for you.

Inside, Jin and Namjoon stay quiet just as Yoongi had anticipated, the former simply announcing that you were just in time for breakfast.

The table was set, most of them already seated, and you gape at the impressive display. The stir-fry from earlier, several individual small bowls of rice, a deep brown broth, scrambled eggs, and even some rice porridge fill the table.

Taehyung, Jungkook and Hoseok are on one half of the table, Jungkook looking like it physically pained him to restrain himself. Jin at one end, an empty space at the other, and the final long edge has Namjoon sitting beside two place for you and Yoongi. Just as you open your mouth to voice the absence, Jimin comes around the corner from the stairs and snags a place on the head of the table beside Taehyung.

You wish him a good morning as you sit, the smells of all the different dishes mingling in your nose the second your butt hits the seat. “Sorry for holding you all up,” you apologise, pasting a smile on your face even as your insides still wriggle in anxious tension. “Thank you for the meal, Jin.”

“Anytime,” he deflects, and like that word was a command, Jungkook bursts into action, shoveling food into his bowl like he’s on the verge of starvation. Jin sighs, reaching for the stirfry. “Quickly, before the vulture gets it all.”

Breakfast, once you force yourself to enjoy it and stay in the moment, is impeccably delicious and a lot of fun. As it turns out, Taehyung’s been making good use of his free schedule, and he regales the table with anecdotes of teaching Mango a number of ‘useful’ tricks like high-fiving, playing dead and turning in tight circles to beg for a treat. It’s while watching a video of the small white dog lolling out her tongue after Taehyung pretend to shoot her with his fingers shaped like a gun that there’s a sudden knock at the door.

Immediately, the thought of the pregnancy test comes to mind, and you’re rushing to the door before anyone else gets the chance.

What you don’t expect to open the door to, however, is a simple delivery worker, with a decently large box under one arm and a small electronic pad in the other. You stare blankly at the man as he consults the label on the box. “Looking for a Jung Hoseok,” he states gruffly, eyes barely reaching you from under a yellow cap branded with the company logo.

Your eyes widen, and you turn back, calling through to the kitchen. “Hobi, it’s for you!”

Rather than returning to your seat, you wait in rapt curiosity as Hoseok practically skips to the front door, smoothly signing off the package with an easy grin. Once he takes it and shuts the door behind the already-departing delivery man, you press against his shoulder to catch a glimpse at the label.

Though Hoseok tugs it away from you with a tut, and you aren’t able to read the packing sticker, you manage to take note of a dark red stamp inked heavily on the top left corner of the box. Two Rs, back-to-back with lush flicks on the outer downward strokes.

The dom parades the box around the foyer, making sure he’s visible to the rest of the guys at the kitchen table, before taking it upstairs with a spring to his step.

Taking a seat again, you let out a disbelieving whoosh of air. “I think it’s from his work,” you tell the others conspiratorially.

Jungkook’s eyes widen, his right cheek stuffed with meat he’s pushed to the side. “Like the Red Room? Kinky stuff?” he questions with a slight lisp, before chewing frantically and swallowing the food. “Are we allowed to do that?”

“It seems so,” Jimin murmurs, his eyes glinting with interest. “Just because we can’t go out doesn’t mean we can’t bring stuff to us, I suppose.”

Jin watches the two youngest with a strangely amused look on his face, twirling his chopsticks against the tabletop. “I’m surprised the two of you have kept quiet so long?”

Jungkook frowns. “Huh? Oh!” Suddenly, his and Taehyung’s faces light up in unison, glancing down at themselves.

Taehyung claps the table in excitement, staring at you, Yoongi and Jimin. “Do you know what day it is today?”

“Friday,” Yoongi answers shortly. “Is it a public holiday or something? It doesn’t really matter if we’re still stuck in here, does it?”

“No, hyung,” Jungkook enthuses, “do none of you go on TikTok? It’s femboy Friday!”

Jimin furrows his brows in utter confusion. “It’s what?”

In their haste to stand up, Taehyung and Jungkook just about tip their chairs over, knocking the table with their knees. Your mouth drops as you see instead of sweatpants or jeans, both boys are sporting skirts.

“Femboy Friday,” Taehyung repeats with a shy smile as Jimin’s eyes rake shamelessly over his figure, “we’re saying fuck toxic masculinity and celebrating feminine boys and proving that clothes don’t have gender all in one! Namjoon, don’t you love it?”

Namjoon, to his credit, manages to nod dumbly, but it seems like that’s his only remaining executive function as his jaw hangs slack, eyes wide.

You can’t blame him, however. You can’t stop looking at the two either. Jungkook has a casual, loose black t-shirt tucked into a high waisted skirt that’s the same shade. Tight around his hips and flaring in an a-line down his thighs, silver chains and buckles give it an edgier look. As he does a twirl, you catch a glimpse of the definition the fabric gives his ass, everyone watching with rapt attention.

Taehyung, on the other hand, has gone for a sweeter look, with a white blouse tucked in to a dove grey plaid skirt that falls in perfectly ironed pleats. It’s relatively cool inside, so he’s shrugged on a cream-coloured jacket somewhat reminiscent of a school blazer. It’s clear by the tentative smile and blushed cheeks that he’s more shy about the getup than Jungkook is; the latter stands tall with folded arms, like he’s daring you to say something.

Once the rest of you at the table get over the initial shock, followed by the silent awe and appreciation, it’s Jimin who speaks up first, his lips parted in a shocked pout. “Why did nobody tell me?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?”

Jimin pushes his chair back, brows furrowed. “Where was this announced? I wasn’t informed.”

Taehyung sends him a boxy grin, his skirt swishing with the slightest movement. “It’s a TikTok thing, Minnie! You should do it with us!”

Jimin tilts his head with a thoughtful hum. “I’m not sure that I have any skirts in my suitcases. Some lingerie, sure, but not-”

“Oh, I just got mine out of the little costume wardrobe in the cupboard,” Taehyung explains easily, jumping forward to tug at Jimin’s arm. “I got a schoolgirl one, but I saw a cheerleader one in there too, come on!”

Your mouth hangs open as the two rush away, and Yoongi splutters, clapping a hand on the table to punctuate his shock. “Wait, sorry, I must’ve- wait,” he babbles, shaking his head in disbelief, “Jimin has lingerie? I’m making tomorrow Panties Saturday.”

Jungkook giggles. “Hyung, that’s not how it works! Femboy Friday is like, a thing, you know? Tae and I made a video earlier and it’s already doing numbers. If we all did it, I bet we’d go viral!”

Yoongi winces. “In my line of work, ‘viral’ is not a good thing.”

You turn to him with a grin. “Come on, Yoongi,” you entice warmly, “it would really cheer me up.”

Keeping your mind off other things is definitely a priority now, and by Yoongi’s reluctant sigh of defeat, you know he knows it. “I don’t want to wear a skirt,” he states, “my legs get cold easily. Is there any compromise of some sort? Anything else I can contribute to the cause?”

It seems you and Jungkook get the idea at the same time, judging by the way his eyes light up.

Before Yoongi can voice his concern, a triumphant clearing of a throat catches the room’s attention. Looking demure in his schoolgirl-esque getup, Taehyung stands tall in the doorway, glancing behind him. “Announcing,” he calls out more noisily than is needed, “the head cheerleader himself, Park Jimin!”

When Taehyung had mentioned cheerleader, and again now, you’d expected the typical red get-up, maybe a sweeter, more innocent look, but at this point in the show it’s about time you realise that Jimin never restricts himself to the obvious route, preferring to defy expectations.

Stepping into the gap Taehyung leaves for him and resting an elbow casually against the doorframe, Jimin looks like the type of student that would run the team with an iron fist. Or, judging by the rings laden on his hands, a silver one. It looks like the only things he’s taken from the cheerleader costume is a pleated pink skirt and some white thigh-high stockings, slipping slightly on the foyer tile. A simple but sexy Gucci shirt is tucked into the obscenely high waistband. Though the logo is gold, red and green, stamped onto the centre of the white fabric, it doesn’t clash with the skirt, instead making an addicting contrast. Shrugged on top, loose around his arms, is a black jacket with red and gold detailing on the shoulders. His gaze is piercing and superior, wearing the skirt like it’s armour as he slinks forward and sits in the chair with a smug look on his face.

Your mouth feels dry. Reminded of the last time he wore more typically feminine attire, it’s like the temperature of the room has increased by several degrees. “I think this is my new favourite day of the year,” you admit quietly, though it carries well enough in the awed room. “You guys look incredible.”

Jimin smirks. “Who’s next, then?”

Jungkook brightens up, wiping the corner of his lip surreptitiously. “Yoongi! Hyung, we need makeup; lots of it.”

Yoongi blanches. “You what now?”

Jin sits forward eagerly. “Wait; if we’re all making ourselves look pretty, I want in. I’ve always wanted to look like the rich hot mom from Parasite,” he divulges openly, turning to you. “Y/n, do you have some jewellery I can use?”

You grin. “I guess so. I know Jimin has some too, and I think Jungkookie? We can get you iced up. Ah, I feel like a little girl dressing up paper dolls. Let’s go get some supplies and we can make a day of it!”

You stand up too quickly, head lurching and stomach protesting, and like the crashing of a freezing wave, you feel dread wash over you. Before you can even dwell on it, Jin’s behind you, steadying you and holding you upright against him.

“Alright?” he asks in a low voice as the others begin to discuss a game plan.

You nod. “Just stood up too quickly.”

Jin’s mouth twists, unconvinced with your answer. “Let’s go upstairs and raid your closet. Take a breather.”

Leaving the others behind, you let the noise drop away as Jin carefully leads you up the stairs and to your room, sitting you carefully on your bed.

You collapse back against the mattress, feeling weak now that the pressure in your head is beginning to recede. Unsurprisingly, Jin doesn’t immediately beeline for the wardrobe or set of drawers. The springs adjust to a shift in weight. Jin’s hands finds one of yours, wrapping it between the two and squeezing it in reassurance. You’re smart enough to recognise this as the start of a Talk, capital letter intended.

“I’m worried about you,” he starts softly, his voice warm and comforting like cotton. “You don’t have to feel obligated to tell me a thing, and I know I’m no medical expert like Yoongichi, but I do know a lot about sex and relationships, and I know that surprises and accidents can happen. I’m here for you in any capacity you need, Y/n. Any at all.”

You swallow, staring at the slightly uneven, off-white paint on the ceiling. “I might be pregnant. It’s a big might but, you know…”

Jin’s hand tightens on yours briefly at that word, like a flexing of muscle, and relaxes again. “The not-knowing is still scary,” he finishes lightly.

“Yeah.” With a frown, you focus your awareness inwards, feeling your stomach rise and fall with your breath. “I don’t feel pregnant. But then- how the fuck would I know what that felt like?”

Jin is silent for a moment. “That isn’t really something I could help with, sadly.”

You huff out a humourless laugh through your nose. “It’s fine, Jin. I appreciate your concern. Sejin’s bringing back a test soon, hopefully, and then I can just… deal with it then.”

“Do you wanna talk about what those results would mean for you? What you feel about the possibility of-”

“Absolutely not,” you cut in sharply, sitting up so quickly that your vision spots. “I’m refusing to dwell on it until I have an answer.” You swallow down the nausea that rises in your throat the more you think about it, turning to face him. “If you wanna help, Jin, and I can’t thank you enough for wanting to- then just distract me.”

Jin pauses, nods, then a grin stretches across his face. “Deal.”

“This is ridiculous,” Hoseok huffs for the hundredth time, nails digging in to the arms of the chair he’s sat at. “It could’ve been anyone else but him. Y/n, why didn’t you help?”

You beam innocently, watching as an equally tight-lipped Jimin settles on a stool in front of the dom, a palette of brown and beige pressed powders and a small brush in hand. “Minnie’s way better than me at it, Hobi. Don’t you wanna look pretty?”

“I chose to pass this in the truth or dare game for a reason.” Hoseok tenses and recoils violently when Jimin’s hand lifts suddenly towards his face. “He’s going to make me look ugly on purpose,” he accuses.

Jimin scoffs, hand falling again. “Are you going to keep talking about me like I’m not here?”

“Ideally, yes.”

The blue-haired man tuts, lazily swirling the soft, short bristles over a particular shade, collecting more pigment. “It would be easier to make you look ugly, but I always relish a good challenge. Don’t worry; you’ll thank me when I’m done.”

“I most certainly will not,” Hoseok pouts stiffly. “Just get on with it, Peaches.”

Jimin’s hand overshoots and streaks a thick tan line on the strip of naked skin between his short skirt and thigh-high stockings. “Fuck. Keep your mouth shut, Jung.”

“You said you’re just doing the base stuff, why does my mouth need to be shut?” Hoseok complains.

Jimin levels him a glare. “Because if you open it, I’ll shove this down your throat and use you as storage.”

“Kinky,” Hoseok banters back, but settles into silence, only flinching slightly when Jimin raises the brush to his face again, dabbing delicately at Hoseok’s dainty nose.

Like some sort of makeshift salon - the second time all eight of you had gathered together to do so - the dining table has been transformed. At the head, Hoseok and Jimin glare at each other with less than a ruler’s length between them. Jungkook and Taehyung have descended on Yoongi like makeup kiosk employees, gushing over his smooth skin and graceful eye shape as the man protests noisily but otherwise seems very content being fussed over.

Jin is wearing enough necklaces, bracelets and earrings that he jingles with the slightest movement, of which there are many as he compulsively makes the eyeliner on his lids longer and thicker and longer again. The brief moments of silence that descend usually consist of him holding up the hand mirror and staring intensely at his reflection, sometimes holding it close enough that his breath fogs it up.

And finally, you and Namjoon are in between the three parties, the academic patiently holding his hands steady as you file away at his nails, shaping them a bit. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” you check in.

Namjoon immediately shakes his head, leaning in closer to watch your motions and the dust shavings that pile up on the folded paper towel beneath your hands. “I’ve always wanted to get my nails done,” he says, voice a casual low timbre.

That surprises you. “Really?” you ask, gently tugging on his hand so he can present his thumb for filing.

“Well,” he amends quickly, “always since yesterday.” At your bewildered laugh, he cracks a sheepish grin and explains. “One of the fans sent in something mentioning it when I visited the confessional booth at lunchtime. It’s sort of been on my mind since then.”

“I’m glad I can help you fulfil this lifelong dream of yours then, Joonie,” you remark with a smile of your own. It’s impossible not to cheer up in Namjoon’s company, your heart always feels lighter in his vicinity. “Are you wanting a colour? I don’t have many, sorry; Jin’s hogging the white and the pink.”

“It’s for a French tip,” Jin calls out imperiously, never one to miss his name mentioned in conversation. You know he’s chosen to help himself so that he can quietly keep an eye on you, and the thought makes you feel more secure and unburdened, appreciative of his attempts to keep your mind occupied. “It’s high class fashion, baby.”

“Maybe in 2010,” Jungkook retorts without glancing away from the blush he’s patting onto Yoongi’s cheeks. “These days it’s all about nail art, hyung.”

Namjoon pipes up. “Like drawing pictures and stuff on the nail? I think some of the girls in my class get those.” He gasps, wriggling in his seat as he turns to you with as much urgency as he can while his hands stay still in your loose grasp. “Do you think you could do that?”

You laugh self-consciously. “I’m not really an expert,” you begin, but Namjoon’s look of veiled disappointment is too much to bear, “but I could give you some nail stickers? They’re just like, love-hearts and stars and leaf patterns and stuff, but-”

With a gasp Namjoon leans forward. “Can I have the leaf ones?” After receiving your confirmation, his knee jiggles under the table in suppressed excitement as you pick up a bottle of nude base coat, the colour of milky tea with a hint of pink to warm it up a bit. You’d used it many a time when you just wanted something plain, and it’ll serve you well today as a blank canvas. Namjoon holds his breath as you uncap it and hold up his pinky finger, carefully coating the smallest fingernail in the glossy polish.

His hands are warm, pliant under your grasp. As he goes quiet to let you focus, the sounds of the rest of the room fill in the vacuum.

“You get that away from my eyes,” Yoongi hisses at one point, making his two stylists tut in reproach.

“It’s just an eyelash curler, hyung,” Taehyung defends, Jungkook providing a resounding ‘yeah!’ in the background. “People use them all the time, it doesn’t hurt.”

“People wax and get tattoos and piercings all the time, Taehyung, and those are still painful. You will not be using that medieval torture device on any part of me.”

Taehyung huffs, and you hear a petulant clank as he drops it back onto the table. “Enjoy your boring straight lashes then, Min Yoongi.”

“I will, actually,” he retorts automatically. “Are you almost done? I feel like I’ve dunked my face in cake flour.”

“Not even close,” Jungkook responds cheerily. “Now it’s time for the fun part though, don’t worry.”

“And what’s the fun part?”

A familiar sticky thwack echoes through the room. “Lip gloss,” he declares with a pleased voice.

Just as Yoongi lets out a pitiful groan, Hoseok gasps from the other end of the table. “Jimin,” he squawks in offense, “why aren’t you giving me lip gloss?”

Jimin just about growls in response. “I said not to move,” he chastises, “now you’ve gone and fucked up the smokey eye, so thanks a lot.”

“I believe you’re the one that fucked up, Jimin,” Hoseok answers haughtily, “a poor worker blames his tools.”

“If you’re calling yourself a tool, I’d be inclined to agree,” Jimin responds, his tone clipped in a way that means he’s focussed. “Okay, that’s looking better. And we’re not doing lip gloss, it looks tacky.”

Finished with the bottom layer on both of Namjoon’s hands, you glance up in just enough time to see Jungkook gasp and turn Yoongi around violently, presenting him like a piece of evidence in court.

Jimin appraises him silently, Yoongi blinking and waiting for his opinion. Taehyung and Jungkook have done a great job, giving him delicate hints of pink shadow just under the outer corners of his eyes, short swoops of eyeliner and baby pink lips coated with a thick sheen of gloss reflecting the light. With an indignant tut, Jimin turns back to Hoseok. “It looks tacky unless you’re Yoongi,” he corrects.

Yoongi seems more content than Hoseok with the answer, and steals Jin’s mirror to inspect himself. He tilts it every which way, mouth slowly opening. “I do look kinda hot, don’t I?”

“See?” Jungkook cheers with a small pump of his fist. “We did good, right? Oh. Jin-hyung, do you need the mirror back? Wait, let us help you! We come highly recommended, Taehyung and I.”

Tuning out the others, you turn back to Namjoon. “Okay, let’s put on some stickers.”

It takes the rest of the morning for everyone to finish up, but none of you seem in a rush. Yoongi, routinely smacking his lips together to feel the texture of the gloss, starts getting different dishes together to make some lunch, and his two little helpers go over to make Jin look like the tiger mom of his dreams. Jimin can’t hide his pride at how well Hoseok’s smokey eye and peachy lip turn out, and Hoseok can’t help but admit that he likes it. Namjoon covers each nail in a thoughtfully selected and arranged sticker, and keeps cooing over them as you cover them in a clear top coat.

Finally, when all of your boys are prettied up and you’re just about to tuck in to lunch, there’s a knock at the door.

You rush up to answer, and this time it is in fact Sejin. He looks harried, chest heaving like he rushed to get here, and before you can even greet him he’s thrusting a brown paper bag towards you.

“Traffic,” he gasps out, “I’m so sorry about the wait, there was a hold-up. I got you it,” he murmurs, before raising his voice so the others - who are no doubt listening in with curiosity - can hear, “so I got you the ginger pills for your stomach, and then just some vitamins that the lady at the counter told me were good for immune systems. Take it easy. Send me a text if you need anything, or if you don’t need anything.”

His voice sounds so awash with concern, his eyes softened in sympathy even as he looks out of breath from getting back here as quickly as possible, that you throw yourself at his chest and wrap your arms around him in a quick hug. He stays frozen for a moment, then pats your back and squeezes your shoulders fondly once you pull away. “Thanks, Sejin,” you say with a smile, “I’ll be sure to let you know.”

When you shut the door lightly behind him and poke your head into the main room, where everyone’s acting like they were’t eavesdropping (Jungkook and Taehyung are thumb-wrestling, Jimin has grabbed Namjoon’s hand to inquire about the little leaf stickers, Hoseok’s turned his face a full one hundred and eighty degrees from you, staring wistfully out the window, and Jin and Yoongi share a look). “I’m just going to duck upstairs and take some of the ginger pills and the vitamins he got me, I won’t be long. You can start without me; don’t let it get cold.”

Though you try and stay calm, when you shut yourself in your bathroom, your hands are trembling. The thin cardboard box tears as you open it, a thick folded wad of instructions and warnings falling out. The longer you take, the more suspicious it is, so you just scan over them to get a general idea. Piss on a stick, you think to yourself, how hard can it be?

So nervous that your muscles lock up, it’s hard enough to actually do even that, but once you’re done, you wash your hands and the handle of the small white stick, and wait. Unable to look, you leave it on the counter and sit on the toilet seat lid, feeling your heart race a million miles a minute. Breathe.

A knock on the door makes you startle violently, a hand instinctively rising up to press against your chest. With a racing heart, you call out to ask who it is.

“It’s us,” Yoongi’s voice echoes through the door. “Me and hyung, I mean. Is it the- the test, sweetheart?”

Opening the door, you let the two men in with a silent nod, returning to your stoop. “Just waiting,” you explain when they glance at the plastic stick on the counter. Your voice has never felt so small and distant to you. It makes you want to curl into yourself and disappear.

Yoongi hovers near the test, checking his watch, but Jin immediately comes over to you, smoothing your hair back and pressing your head and shoulders against his torso. You slump into him, into the embrace that always reassures you. Jin smells still like his cooking, and breathing it in gives you some small comfort.

The three of you don’t speak. There’s nothing to say; not yet, not when you still don’t know. Yoongi stands by the test like a guard dog, not looking himself, and Jin rubs your back and strokes your hair, holding you close.

After what feels like a cold eternity, Yoongi consults with his watch again and clears his throat lightly. “Do you want to come and check, sweetheart?”

You get the thought of you leaving Jin’s hold, of going up there and taking the piece of plastic and seeing two blue lines, and you shake your head, pressing yourself more firmly against Jin. “Can you just… Can you check it and tell me?”

As Yoongi turns to pick it up, you feel yourself tense. Two blue lines, your mind chants over and over, and even as you’re terrified you’re going to somehow conjure that result by thinking too hard about it, you can’t stop.

The plastic rattles against the counter, and you’re watching his face, eyes narrowed on his expression with laser focus. He picks it up, looks at the result, and the slightest exhale gives him away. A tiny puff of breath, his shoulders dropping an inch and the line between his brows smoothing out. Your heart soars in raw relief even before he confirms, “you’re not pregnant, Y/n.”

Even though you’re happy, so grateful of fate working in your favour, the underlying fear of the past few hours comes crashing down on you like a tsunami, and you burst into tears, your whole body shivering and juddering with sobs that you muffle against the soft fabric and solid chest you’re leaning on.

“Hey, hey,” Jin’s voice calls to you in a soothing croon, “you’re okay, baby, you’re fine. You’re safe.”

The reassurance only makes you wail harder, feeling so unburdened, so unanchored, like you could float away were it not for your grip on his sleeves. He rocks you gently, back and forth as his fingers card through your hair and cradle your back. It’s not until you hear the hollow clatter of the test going in the trash can that you feel the ghost of your fear and worry leave you, and finally you go slack against him, tears dried up.

As you sit up and dab at your eyes, Yoongi passes you a tissue to properly clean yourself up and Jin pats your hair back down. “Sorry,” you pipe up with a croaky voice, “I got your shirt messy.”

Jin smiles softly and offers you a hand to stand with. “Never you mind that, young lady.” He’s quite a sight to see now; even with a soft expression, his eyeliner is sharper than the point of a knife and the imperious dark red of his lips makes anything less than a grin look pouty and dramatic. “Do you want us to let the others know you’re feeling under the weather? I can bring some food up here for you? Are you too cold? Too hot?” You giggle tearily as he lays his hand across your forehead and pinches your cheeks lightly, clucking in worry.

“I’m fine,” you reply. “I’ll take ten minutes or so to calm down a bit and then I’ll join you all. Can you just tell them I’m on the phone with a friend or something? I won’t be long.”

Jin furrows his brows. “Are you sure? If you need anything, I’m here for-”

“Hyung,” Yoongi chides gently, “let’s give her a breather.”

By the way Jin sucks in a deep breath and nods stiffly, it might be him that needs the breather. Yoongi drags him away as you thank them, and soon enough you’re once again alone in the bathroom.

Stumbling on weak legs to your bed, you all but collapse onto it, feeling totally devoid of energy. You just need a moment to recharge, that’s all. Just need a moment to acknowledge that no, there isn’t a life form inside you right now, and yes, everything can go back to normal.

And if it’s well over ten minutes by the time you make it back downstairs to reheat your portion of lunch, no one mentions it.

The afternoons are often a lazy affair in the Villa. Unless you’re off getting fucked (not uncommon, of course) you tend to hang around in the lounge with whoever’s in the mood for socialising, and put something on TV.

You’re starting to realise that perhaps there are better uses of your time, which is why when Namjoon asks how Jimin got so good at makeup, you enthusiastically accept Jimin’s generous offer to be his model.

Once again your communal area gets renovated into a mini studio fit for purpose. Two of the couches are pulled closer together, a tight arrow shape around the coffee table corner. As is often the case, Yoongi and Jin are noticeably absent, with Namjoon and Jungkook on one sofa, leaning forward in their eagerness, and Taehyung and Hoseok on the other, the younger looking like he’s just about to fall asleep on Hoseok’s shoulder.

You perch on the edge of the table between them with nervous anticipation as Jimin darts upstairs to collect his tools. “How come you’re wanting to learn, Namjoon?” you ask lightly.

The academic scratches his neck lightly, knee bumping against Jungkook’s as he shifts in place. “It’s interesting, and I love learning new things,” he states, his voice lilting up at the end.

Jungkook nudges his elbow into Namjoon’s side. “He thinks Jimin’s focusing face is hot.”

“I did not say that!” Namjoon insists, but the violent blush in his cheeks betrays him. “I enjoy watching, that’s all.”

“I’m sure you do, hyung, I’m sure you do,” Jungkook commiserates with a wise and somewhat sarcastic nod, but before Namjoon has any further chance to defend himself, you hear the thud of socked feet coming down the stairs.

Jimin’s skirt flounces around his thighs with every step as he rushes back in, a heavy-looking back held against his chest. He pauses in front of you, breathing slightly elevated. “Up you get,” he instructs.

You do so without thinking, but then stand awkwardly beside the coffee table as he takes your spot and dumps the makeup bag beside him. “Where do I sit?” you ask hesitantly, but Jimin just pats his thigh wordlessly.

Glancing out at the four onlookers, you suck in a breath and place yourself delicately on his lap, perpendicular so that your shoulder is against his chest and you’re facing Namjoon. Clearly it wasn’t what he was after, as Jimin clicks his tongue with a huff and grabs you under the knee, parting your legs so that you’re facing him, balanced on a single, stocking-clad thigh.

Your eyes widen as you’re suddenly face-to-face with him as he raises a brow at you. “Namjoon wants to learn, little mouse,” Jimin instructs, “so you’re going to be nice and still for me, right?”

You’re hyper aware of the pressure of his corded thigh against your core, even through your loose cotton shorts, and the four sets of eyes on you that are just outside your peripheral. “Yes, Jimin.”

His eyes darken in disapproval, fingers tightening on your knee. “A good doll doesn’t make any noise either,” he chastises. “Pinch me if you want out, otherwise stay still and be quiet.”

You swallow, recognising his introduction of a non-verbal safeword. But there are others watching, and he was just meant to be doing your makeup. Your eyes dart to risk a glance at the others, blurry in the very corner of your eye. They’ve gone dead still, Jungkook and Namjoon still leaned inwards towards you, Taehyung close to Hoseok but definitely no longer napping. You aren’t allowed to nod or say yes, so you give your lack of response as confirmation.

Jimin lets out a short hum and drops his gaze from you, unzipping the makeup bag. “Lots of steps in makeup have to do with personal preference,” he explains, glass, metal and plastic clattering together as he draws out a bottle. “But starting with primer is like prepping a canvas, so it’s always a solid first step.”

For a moment you’re confused, before you recall that Jimin’s teaching this all to Namjoon. He glances at the academic briefly, giving you a glimpse of his graceful side profile before he turns back and clicks open a narrow tube, piping some of the creamy formula on the back of his hand. When he dips a clean beauty blender into it, collecting it on the narrower end, you notice it glistens just slightly.

“I ran this under the tap upstairs to get it damp,” Jimin continues, and you fight the urge to flinch when you feel it begin to dab along your nose, spreading out to your cheeks. “These blenders are good because the sponginess is a good texture to make everything smooth, but they’re so absorbent that if they’re dry they’ll suck up half the product. If they’re a little damp, you won’t need as much.”

You can’t bring yourself to meet Jimin’s gaze, or even lift your eyes to his face at all, far too intimidated by the proximity. Instead, you watch the rhythmic way his chest rises and falls, rippling the Gucci logo on his white shirt. The afternoon had brought a low, hot sun, and all of you had stripped off any outer layers. Jimin was no different, ditching the jacket, and you can just make out his upper arms flexing past the short sleeves before the blender gets a little too close to your eyes, and you snap them closed.

“Once you’ve done that, I’d go in with a foundation…” Jimin lets out a small sigh through his nose. “This shade won’t really match exactly, but it’ll do. Finding the perfect shade is like finding a pair of shoes that fit just right, it can take ages but once you’ve got it, you’ve got it. Unless you go and get a tan.”

Slowly you begin tuning Jimin’s voice from coherent sentences into one smooth, lulling river. Soft whispers of brushes and cool swipes of liquid make your skin tingle, and the solid, unmoving presence of his thigh between yours anchors you in the moment.

After every step, or whenever there’s a specific technique to show off, you feel the searing heat of his fingers on you, turning your head to the side with a tight grip on your chin, displaying you to the others. Every time, that heat moves downward, pooling in your core.

“Eyes open,” a voice rings out, short with impatience.

Upon following his command, you focus on his face with a few blinks, just in time to see him come at your eyes with a narrow, pointed brush. Instinctively jerking away, you gasp when the movement causes you to grind against him slightly, pleasure blooming at the friction.

With an annoyed curl of his lip, Jimin uses the hand not holding the brush to grab your chin again, fingernails digging in and pulling you closer. “Stay still,” he hisses, and lets go after you freeze into place again.

This time, when he brings the brush back up, it goes not onto your eyes, but above onto your brows, and you remain obediently motionless as you feel the stiff brush press on something powderlike. As he explains its purpose and use to Namjoon, however - the other three watching just as intently - you don’t listen to his words, instead directing all your focus downwards.

If you move, just slightly, the smallest shift of your pelvis, you can press your clothed clit against the strip of bare skin between his skirt hem and the stockings, where the flesh is stiff with tensed muscle. You watch his face as closely as you dare, wary of a reaction, but there’s none.

It’s not much, and it’s not nearly enough, but you sate yourself on that dull pleasure as he finishes your brows, and begins working on some eyeshadow. He takes longer here, dipping into different shades with pretty names that you forget the second you hear them, because it’s riskier now, with your eyes closed again. You can’t see if he’s aware of your minute motions, but you’re too desperate to stop.

When there’s suddenly a sharp poke on your lid, your instinct takes over and you jerk back with a gasped yelp.

Jimin growls, and the noise makes you open your eyes in alarm. He’s holding a jet black eyeliner wand, and his face is tense, displeased. You even open your mouth to apologise, before quickly thinking better of it.

“Sorry for the technical difficulties, gentlemen,” Jimin states to the others stiffly. “Give me a moment to sort out my equipment.”

A rush of heat floods your core at the dismissive way he refers to you, and when you feel his hand tighten - not on your jaw, but on your throat itself - you melt into his grasp. The cold bands of his rings dig into the flesh as he inflicts just enough pressure to make your heart race.

Still able to breathe comfortably, just with that physical reminder of his strength and his control, you go pliant in his hold, eyes fluttering before they naturally settle shut.

“There we go,” Jimin murmurs, “now let me continue.”

Jimin uses your cheekbones to prop his hand up as he paints a delicate stroke of black across the bottom of each eyelid, his voice like honey as he walks Namjoon through every last detail.

The weak rutting had barely given you any relief before, but now with Jimin’s hand on your throat, it’s not even enough to keep you sane. Your brain knows there are four other people trying to watch the processes of applying makeup, but that logical part is being steadily overridden with primal need, a need that’s going unfulfilled.

Jimin has to remove his hand to show you off, then to turn your head back and reach for something else, the sticky sound of it opening, and the wet bristles that you can only just feel against the edge of your eyelids tells you it’s mascara.

“Look up,” Jimin commands shortly, tapping your temple. You follow command and glance up, curling your fingers into your own thighs to stop yourself from flinching when the wand comes so close to your eyes.

When he shows off his work this time, your eyes are finally open again, and so you find yourself facing the others properly. Namjoon’s doing a decent job of pretending he’s actually interested in the makeup, but his eyes spend too much time on the space between your legs, and Jimin’s face to be really focused. Jungkook’s got his feet up on the couch, with an arm shoved in front of his crotch, rocking against it to relieve some pressure.

On the slightly less affected couch, Hoseok sits back with his gaze hooded as he stares you down. Taehyung, shoulder-to-shoulder with the dom, has a swollen bottom lip pinned tightly under his front teeth. You don’t doubt he wishes nothing more than to be between you and Jimin right now.

Jimin pulls you back too soon, and as he retrieves the familiar short, round casing of a tube of lipstick, you can’t hold back any longer. No longer worried about accidentally being stabbed in the eye, you keep your face still but tighten your thighs around his, grinding your core against him.

You know you aren’t being subtle, but you’re beyond caring, just needing something to relieve the desire boiling over inside you.

As he uncaps the lipstick - a deep wine red that looks ridiculously expensive - he sends you a warning glare. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he chastises in a low tone.

You choose to ignore him, propping your hands on the top of his thigh, over the soft pleats of his skirt, to get better leverage, moaning between closed lips at the feeling.

“That’s disappointing,” Jimin admits, and as your heart begins to sink at his tone, his free hand lifts up once more to wrap around your neck.

This time, instead of his grip being an implication of consequence, he starts to tighten and tighten and tighten, slowly and steadily. You feel the pressure on the sides of your throat, where his fingers are, not on your voicebox, and it makes you start to feel a little hazy. He keeps going as you feel the first brush of lipstick against your parted lower lip, and there’s a heat in your face, a slight tightness. His fingers curl in more, just slight changes every time, but your brows furrow at the slight pain, and without you even reaching out to pinch him, he’s eased back to that sugar-sweet lightheadedness.

It’s easier to let your eyes flutter - not open but not quite closed either - as your lips are coated in red, hand moving with just as much case as his other. Although you can breathe, it’s thin, and you feel yourself go lax at the slight deprivation, like you’re floating above yourself. Once the cap of the lipstick clicks, his grips falls away, and you instinctively suck in a breath, your exhale sounding closer to a pleasured sigh.

You begin to sink forward, seeking out more contact as the endorphins of an oxygen rush lift you higher. Jimin hums, the lipstick clattering noisily on the coffee table as he grasps your shoulders and turns you slightly, so that you don’t faceplant into his chest. A strong hand keeps your chin up, air flowing so easily that you feel drunk on it, strength returning to your limbs.

“Isn’t my doll so pretty, Namjoon?” Jimin asks sweetly, before he ducks in and nips sharply at your earlobe, voice lowering to whisper harshly in your ear. “I only gave you two very easy, very simple commands. Be quiet and be still. And yet that’s seemingly too much to ask of you. I have no qualms about punishing you in front of everyone, little mouse. You’ve used up all your chances. If you make a single noise or move out of turn, I’ll discipline you right here without mercy.” His fingers are featherlight, tender as they turn you back to face him, pressing your foreheads together. His eyes dance in mirth, a smile playing on his lips. “Is that understood?”

You only just manage to prevent yourself from answering or nodding automatically.

Jimin laughs through his nose at the way your lips twitch, leaning back just a few inches. “That was mean of me, wasn’t it?” His smile falls in a second. “Then again, I think I’ve been going too easy on you lately. And I don’t make mistakes a second time.”

Blessedly, all he has left are delicate dustings of blush and highlighter, and some setting spray. He moves your face this way and that, tells you when to open your eyes and when to close them, and although it feels like your insides are vibrating hopelessly, you manage to keep still and silent, a perfect doll for him.

“All done.” When Jimin says those two magic words, and gives you permission to move again, you feel relief crash down on you, making your knees weak as you get up off him and collapse onto the couch in the gap between Jungkook and Namjoon.

Your relief is short-lived. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

You blink up at Jimin. “Um… You said we’re done.”

“The makeup is,” Jimin corrects, looking unbelievably intimidating even in a white t-shirt and pink cheerleading skirt. “We are not. You still deliberately disobeyed be, little mouse. You’re in trouble.”

On either side of you, Jungkook and Namjoon retreat, ducking out of Jimin’s line of sight so they can look on from the sidelines. You frown at him. “But I didn’t do it again, and you said you wouldn’t do it if I-”

“Goodness, were you so desperate that you stopped listening entirely? I said I wouldn’t discipline you in front of the others, Y/n. You haven’t earned absolution. You just get the dignity of privacy when I punish you. Go up to my room; now.”

There’s no protesting his command. There’s a safeword, or there’s obedience, and the choice is easy. You feel positively electric with arousal, excited at the concept of Jimin no longer going easy on you, and what that might entail.

You jump up, spare one glance at the four men that remain, open-mouthed on the couch, and make your way towards the stairs, Jungkook’s whines about ‘missing out’ fading away with distance.

Jimin’s room is relatively tidy, but it’s not the neatly made bed or overflowing tabletop of neatly arranged jewellery, watches and belts that catch your attention. At the foot of his bed, a heavy wooden armoire with his initials engraved is unable to ignore, a constant reminder of just how fucked you were. You didn’t know half the things he had in there, had only really experienced a few of them yourself, but something tells you that digging around inside it while you wait will just get you in more trouble; although you aren’t opposed to acting up for some extra attention, you’re in new territory with Jimin right now, and you want to get a feel for what you’re in for before you make things worse for yourself.

You’re proven right very quickly, when the door creaks behind you. “At least you know how to wait patiently,” Jimin’s voice calls in a sultry whisper. Turning around to face him, you can’t help but gulp at the glimmer in his eyes and the smirk that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “That lipstick shade looks so beautiful on you, little mouse. Mind if I try it on?”

With two smooth steps, he’s upon you, a hand winding around the nape of your neck and the other keeping your chin steady as he presses his lips to yours, forceful enough that your teeth begin to dig in to the delicate flesh. You exhale roughly through your nose, a whimper stuck in your throat at the sudden contact. As plush as his lips are, he kisses you with a ferocity and coldness that has your mind reeling.

When he pulls away, your eyes flutter weakly open, and that whimper makes its way to the surface. He looks like sin personified, that deep blue hair low across his brow, exposing a narrow triangle of his forehead, a smokey eye and those lips of his, stained with red. Of course it’s not a neat application - you imagine yours must be even more ruined - but the messy smears of colour across the middle of his mouth just serve to make him look wilder, a creature of lust and raw desire. “Jimin,” you say, voice hushed like a prayer.

His eyes narrow minutely. “Did I say you could speak? On your knees, shorts and shirt off.”

You follow without hesitation, just about scratching yourself in the haste to remove your outer layer of clothing. Though your ribs practically vibrate with how fast your heart races, your skin still prickes into goosebumps now that all you wear are your panties and a bra. The fibres of the carpet, though soft, scratch against the bare skin of your knees and shins as need makes your nerves extra sensitive. You look up at him and shiver at the sight this position awards you.

You haven’t specifically drooled over his thighs before, but now that they’re bared to you, directly in your line of sight, you feel yourself grow wetter. You knew he still had the corded strength of a dancer, too, and the thought of him using that power to fuck you into the floor makes you seek out some friction, crotch pressed to your heels and rocking against them. From this angle, you can’t see up his skirt, but the fabric is thin enough to expose the bulge of his cock beneath it. Looking up further, craning your neck to see his face, you appreciate how even from below, he has a jaw that could cut diamonds - especially when he’s clenching it, like now.

Your eyes widen, taking in the tensed look of disapproval he’s giving you. With a start, you realise your hips are still rocking back and forth absentmindedly, and you freeze with an apologetic whine.

His hand comes down to stroke back your hair, deceptively lightly compared to iron lines of his face. “Oh, doll, you really can’t follow any basic commands, can you? So needy for cock that you can’t even think?” He lets out a teasing laugh, the sound like windchimes. Slowly, he trails a single finger down the side of your face, then diverts inwards along your cheekbone and pushes down against the seam of your lips, making you naturally part them. “Such a mess already,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Shall we see how much more that lipstick of yours will hold up? See how long it takes you to become just a mindless little doll for me to play with, hm? Maybe you’d behave then.”

Your eyes plead with him as he toys with your lips lazily, running that finger inside, collecting your saliva to smear it over, your cheeks a hazy red at the humiliation. It only serves to make you needier, though, as you wait for him to do something, to use you like you know he will, and judging by the grin on his face as he messes you up, you know he’s well aware of his effect on you. But good dolls don’t talk, and they don’t move on your own, and so Jimin makes you sit and wait, letting him take his time.

When he finally pulls his finger away and wipes the drool - tinged pink with the dislodged lipstick pigment - on your cheek, you could groan in relief, but he still seems in no hurry, lazily toying with the hem of his skirt as he tilts his head to the side like he’s appraising you. “Look at you, trying so hard to follow the rules,” he coos, “did you not like me calling you cockdumb, little mouse?”

You bite down on the inside of your lip to mask another whine, blinking up at him as it takes all of your effort not to grind against your heels. You can’t answer, but it seems your response was explanation enough.

“Oh, so that’s it…” Jimin grins, eyes alight with the condescending mirth that makes you feel so deliciously small beneath him. “You like it a little too much, huh? I should’ve known. I’ve been spoiling you; Tae too. In fact, I bet every guy in this house has spoilt you rotten, and now the only thing on your mind is when you’ll next get some cock..” You swallow at the way he slowly begins lifting his skirt, knuckles grazing on the skin of his thighs as more pale golden flesh is revealed. His voice is sultry, addictive. “Rest that pretty little mind of yours, little mouse, you don’t have to think about a thing. Just open your mouth and be a good doll for me, and I’ll give you what you need.”

You widen your jaw and let your tongue rest on your lower lip before he’s even bared himself to you, and he chuckles as he holds the skirt to his lower abdomen, showing off the cotton-candy pink underwear he’s donning. The satin-like fabric is so narrow across his hips and between his legs that it’s clearly not meant to contain his cock, but he doesn’t seem bothered about the precarious way the weeping tip pokes out of the skinny waistband. There’s not much time to dwell on it, or even admire it, however, because he quickly reaches in with his free hand and pushes them down, letting his cock bob free.

Your eyes grow lidded with desire as he holds himself at the base with three fingers and taps the head against your awaiting tongue teasingly, drool quickly pooling there.

Jimin grins at your needy reaction. “I’d love to tie your hands back and fuck your mouth, but I want them to be free if you need to use them,” he states lowly, before shrugging, “maybe next time. For now; open up.”

You stretch your mouth even wider, wanting to obey his every command, and feel his cock begin to fill it, the salty tang of his precum sliding over your tongue. Focusing on breathing through your nose, you fight the urge to gag. Though he takes his time, and certainly isn’t as large as some of the other members of the house, he hasn’t have any qualms about burying himself to the hilt, making your eyes tear up.

“Fuck, just like that,” Jimin curses, and your heart sings with the praise even as you struggle not to choke around the intrusion in your throat. Unsure if he wants you to properly suck him off, but knowing the last thing you should do is move without permission, you just keep your jaw as wide as possible, lips pulled back slightly to cover your teeth. As he draws back with a pleasured sigh before beginning his slow drive back in, you think Jimin’s more than happy with what he’s getting.

He takes his time, but throat isn’t exactly something that adjusts like your pussy would, and so it doesn’t get any easier to stop your gag reflex from kicking in when you feel him past the base of your tongue. You can breathe through your nose, but there are so many things to keep track of that you don’t get quite enough air to your lungs, trying to make every inhale you do manage as deep as you can.

His groans and breathy praises are enough to keep your nerves on a livewire, so turned on you could cry - and, in fact, your eyes tear up as he gently but thoroughly fucks your throat, so that when you glance up at him, he’s blurry in your affected vision. That doesn’t stop you from knowing that he’s grinning, because you can hear it in the way he assures you that you’re being “so perfect, little mouse; just drunk on cock, aren’t you?”

You groan around him in your mouth, and feel a spot of wetness on your sternum, that you don’t doubt is your drool beginning to spill over. Even as your cheeks flush with humiliation, he doesn’t tell you to suck him off, or do anything but leave your mouth wide open, and so you stare up at him with tears in your eyes and remain obediently still.

It could be a minute, it could be ten, but at one point, when your nose is pressed to the waistband of Jimin’s skirt and his hand is gently cupping the back of your head to hold you there, you become aware of a foreign presence between your legs.

It takes you a moment to recognise it, that probing pressure that quickly seeks out your clothed core, but you blink away the sheen from your eyes and and close your thighs just enough to feel the outline, and it’s the textured fabric against your skin and the teasing way he wets his lips that helps you make the connection. The object moves again, a stiff drag right over your clit, and the sudden burst of pleasure makes you choke around him, spit running down your chest now. He’s rubbing his foot against you, the foot that’s covered in pretty white thigh-high stockings.

Jimin pulls out to give you a moment to cough and splutter, and thankfully doesn’t call you out on the involuntary breaking of the rules, but you barely manage to suck in two breaths before he’s clicking his tongue at you, telling you your brief respite is over. You clear your aching throat one last time and spread your mouth wide open again, but Jimin just hums and pats your cheek. “Could my doll handle one more command? You’re doing so good, taking me well like I knew you would.”

You nod straight away before freezing at your unintentional mistake. The blue-haired man just lets out a dark chuckle, pulling his foot away. This time, you at least manage to prevent a whine, biting hard on the inside of your cheek at the loss.

“That was mean of me, wasn’t it? I understand, little mouse,” he coos, crouching in front of you so that you’re at eye-level, “I do. It must be hard for you to remember all these pesky rules and orders, isn’t that right?”

His gentle croon of sympathy cracks you once again, your need to please overriding your better judgement, and you nod again.

This time, he openly laughs, making you shiver as he runs a line through the spit that’s fallen between your breasts. “Let me give you a deal, then,” he begins, voice dripping with apparent sympathy, “I’ll take away those rules. I’ll let you move, and moan, and say my name, but only if you promise that it’s because you’re too cockdumb to follow them, hm? Can you say that for me?”

You swallow, opening your mouth to take a heaving breath. What’s worse; not being able to move, or having to admit that you’re so desperate that you can’t stay still? “I’m just c-cockdumb, Jiminnie, can’t think about anything else but feeling you inside me,” you confess, and as he strokes back your hair and smiles at you like a prized pet or small child, something beloved but not all that smart, it’s strangely freeing.

Your sex drive had skyrocketed since coming on this show, and even with having sex almost once a day, sometimes more, you found yourself missing the feeling of each guy in the house while they awaited their turn. It had been what felt like ages since the last time you actually, properly fucked him, even though it couldn’t have been a week, and you longed for it. Admitting that you were too desperate to even follow basic commands, letting yourself be reduced to a creature of need, with no coherent thoughts alleviated any shame you had about that thought. Jimin was here in front of you, skirt barely covering his spit-slicked cock, lips still a sinful wine red, and he loved your need, your desperation.

Jimin stands back up again, and makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat. “That’s my good girl,” he praises, and any scant notion of tainted dignity that remained within you flies out the window. “I shouldn’t punish you, should I? When you couldn’t help it.”

“No, Minnie,” you agree with a whine, clenching your thighs together in a poor imitation of the stimulation you briefly had, “‘couldn’t help it. You don’t have to punish me.”

“And what would you want instead, little mouse?”

You widen your eyes in plea. “Fuck me, Minnie, I’m your good girl.”

He tilts his head to the side, and it’s the bemused smile that graces his lips that makes you realise he’s not going to give you what you want. “What a shame, then,” he murmurs, his fingers delving into your hair and tightening around a fistful of it, “that I have to punish you anyway. How else will you learn?”

You gasp as he steps backwards, pulling you with him by the grip in your hair. You’re forced to stumble forward on your knees and the tips of your fingers as he sits down on the edge of his mattress and settles you in front of him. “Minnie,” you whine, your own hands reading out to clutch at the fabric of the duvet in front of you.

“Y/n,” he teases in a singsong voice, “remember that new command that I wanted from my doll?” He spreads his legs open further, and the pink miniskirt rides up to expose his cock, smeared with a deep red from your ruined lipstick, dripping with saliva and precum. The hand in your hair tugs you closer. “It’s suck.”

Jimin isn’t gentle with you this time. Now that you have the advantage of responsiveness, sucking him down and swirling your tongue, he doesn’t bother sugar-coating it, and obscene noises emerge from your mouth as you swallow, gag and choke around him. He curses, using the handful of hair like a handle, guiding you up and down.

It’s barely any time at all before you feel a familiar sensation against your soaked panties. Jimin’s stockinged foot grinds against you with so much pressure you almost want to wriggle away from it. Your nerves are so touch-starved and your clit is so swollen that the slightest touch would’ve made you shiver, but the intense way he rubs the ball of his foot over your panties has you gargling hopelessly around him, mouth going slack.

He chuckles. “Too much? I can stop if you need, little mouse, I can’t have you getting distracted from your main use.”

Your hands detach from the duvet and wrap around his calf, fingers digging in and holding him there. Rutting your hips against it, you seek out the pleasure yourself but make sure to throw your efforts twice into blowing him, making him curse when you bob on his cock faster than your hips move.

“God, you’re fuckin’ filthy,” Jimin breathes out through a groan, “humping my leg like a fucking dog. Thought Tae was the pup, not you.” You’re unprepared for the hand that shifts and slips under your jaw, tightening around your throat so that you can feel his cock even more inside you. You gag, but swallow through it, the slight restriction of air bringing back that delicious heady feeling from earlier. Jimin catches your moan, even though it’s muffled around him. “Maybe I should get you a collar, little mouse. Make sure to buckle it tight.”

The thought makes your grinding falter, and you don’t doubt he feels the sudden rush of heat between your legs, because he suddenly kicks into action himself, grinding harshly against you as you cry out gutturally around his cock.

His grip on your neck loosens only to take a hold on the back of your head again, fucking your throat to chase his orgasm. The faster he snaps his hips, cursing lowly and groaning praises, the faster he jerks his foot against you, and it’s not long before the heat is gathering in a tight coil low in your belly.

You moan around him, jaw aching and lips stretched, and suddenly Jimin twitches inside you, spilling down your throat. Quickly, he pulls his cock out, and you only get the briefest taste on your tongue before he’s rubbing his tip across your swollen lips, spreading his cum across them.

His leg slows down as he releases, but you were so close to the edge yourself, and so you feel no shame in seeking it out, grinding yourself against him as you stick your tongue out to lick your lips clean.

Jimin groans, chest heaving, but lets you rut yourself against him, cum dripping down your chin, until finally you give a violent shiver as your orgasm runs through you. It’s mellow but toe-curling, and you clutch his leg to anchor yourself through it.

“Fuck,” you gasp out, head lolling forward onto his thigh, where the stocking turns to flesh, then the soft ironed pleats of his skirt.

Jimin’s hands are in your hair, stroking it away from your messy face and brushing out the tangles. “Oh, Y/n,” he chants softly, his voice a far cry from the dom that teased you before, “I love to play with you. How are you feeling?”

You feel drained, your entire body weight collapsed against him and the bed. “Mm.”

Jimin stifles a chuckle. “Could I have a colour, my little mouse?”

“Green,” you manage, “I’m green. But are we done now? If I don’t get some lip balm on now, my lips might just fall off.”

“Indeed we are,” he confirms, and bends down to slip his arms under yours, picking you up off the floor with ease. “As much as I love you being drunk off desire, I miss my clever, sweet, cheeky girl.”

Even with your body screaming in exhaustion, barely able to help him get you laid down on his bed and tucked under the duvet, your cheeks heat in a blush. “Don’t compliment me when I’m vulnerable, that’s cheating.”

“I’ll save them for later, then,” Jimin bargains with a tired smile, before he gets up and cringes, looking down. “As much as I’d love to collapse into bed for a nap with you right now, my sock is drenched thanks to you.”

Your eyes fly wide, and you manage to pull yourself up enough to glance over the side. Jimin isn’t kidding. All over the toes and top of his foot are dark patches in the stocking, clinging to his skin. “I’m so sorry,” you say with a wince.

“Don’t be,” Jimin assures, stripping it off with two fingers hooked into the fabric, “it was hot at the time. It just, uh, feels weird when it’s gone cold.”

Half the blood in your body has probably rushed to your face as you cover it with an embarrassed whine, burying yourself deeper in the sheets. “Maybe if you fucked me, I wouldn’t have gotten your sock wet,” you mutter petulantly, shamelessly deflecting.

“I’ll know better next time,” he quips, a grin evident in his voice. By the time you poke your head back up, he’s stripped down to just his white Gucci shirt, his bottom half totally bare as he retrieves a pair of boxers from the set of drawers. Stepping into them with no qualms about the temporary nudity - though, you suppose it would be stranger for him to be camera shy - he glances back over his shoulder. “And as much as I love to fuck you, we have just enough time for a cuddle before dinner. I miss you.”

Your heart warms, eyes soft. “Jimin,” you croon softly, “come here.”

He smiles, but hesitates. “Could I- I’m just- Should I text Tae?” he asks, lips twisting in uncertainty, still tinted a faded red. “I’m pretty sure nobody’s getting suspicious, and it’s not like we’re technically-”

“Text him,” you instruct with a beam. “I miss having you both close. We live in the same house; it sucks having to stay so separate.”

With how quickly Taehyung bundles into Jimin’s room after he sends the text, he must not have been far. He’s on you in a second, jumping onto the bed with enough vigor that the springs creak, and wriggling under the duvet beside you.

You seek him out with as much earnestness, if not enthusiasm, and hum happily when he lies back to let you rest your head on his chest. The bed creaks again, and Jimin’s body heat warms your back, his arm slung over your waist.

“It’s about time,” you hear Taehyung’s voice say, echoing through his chest, “I’ve been cuddling with one of Jin’s plushies these past few nights. It’s a sorry substitute for a whole human to snuggle.” He pauses to lift his chin, glaring imperiously at the blinking camera in the top corner of the room. “I missed having platonic cuddles with my friend Y/n. Cuddling is a favourite non-sexual pastime of mine.”

You giggle, curling into him and inhaling his comforting scent, like brown sugar or caramel. “I think you’re good, Tae.”

“Can we sleep now?” Jimin whines as he holds you tighter, face buried in the crook of your neck as he huffs. “I just had the soul sucked out of me.”

“I know, I know,” Taehyung grumbles, and if the comment strikes you as odd, it only takes the steady heartbeat and low hum of his breathing to blur the thought from your mind as you let yourself drift off.

Yoongi glances worriedly over his shoulder, ear straining to hear past the glass sliding door.

“They’re occupied,” Jin reminds, “besides, I doubt they can hear us all the way out here. Did we really have to come out to the patio just for a talk? It’s hot out here.”

The doctor shrugs, placing the package of fresh sliced beef onto the tabletop. “We’re having a barbecue tonight. At least this way we can pretend we were just getting set up.”

Jin narrows his brows, eyes softening in concern. Quickly, Yoongi drops his gaze, knowing it’ll just make him weak. “Yoongichi, talk to me. What’s up? What’s got you so nervous?”

Yoongi swallows. Thinks of what he rehearsed, of what he’d written in the notes app of his phone, read over and over that morning. This has been fun, but we’re kidding ourselves. Or maybe he’d skip the pretense and avoid beating around the bush. I can’t keep having sex with you while my feelings are on the line. “Um… A lot happened today. With Y/n.” Maybe he can beat around the bush a little bit, just to work up his courage.

“That it did,” Jin responds slowly, leaning against the outdoor dining table. Yoongi takes one of the wooden chairs, nails digging into the arms as he feels tension stiffen his body. “Though it seems like the others are doing a fine enough job of keeping her mind off it.”

Yoongi doesn’t miss the bitter tone in Jin’s voice. “Are you jealous? Of them, I mean.”

“Of course not,” the therapist answers immediately, “I have no right to be. She’s a free woman, and this is just a show.”

He frowns, heart sinking. “You said you wouldn’t lie to me about her, hyung. We started this so that you had an outlet. Physical or otherwise.”

Jin pauses for a moment. “I don’t think she would’ve told me,” he says finally, “if I wasn’t already there when part of it happened. If you hadn’t have asked me to look after her. She hasn’t told the others. Not even Namjoon, I don’t think.”

“And that bothers you?”

“It shouldn’t bother me,” Jin deflects.

Yoongi doesn’t miss a heartbeat. “That’s not an answer.”

Jin lets out a hollow laugh. “Since when you get so smart?”

Upon hearing those words, Yoongi feels a sudden shard of glass cut deep inside him, enough to make him wince. “I was always smart,” he replies stiffly. “I wasn’t dumb before I started fucking you, Jin. I didn’t get emotional intelligence through osmosis.”

At least Jin has the good grace to look pained. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to say you weren’t, I phrased that poorly. I just meant…” He trails off, seeking out the right words. “I suppose I’m realising how much you’ve learnt about me in the time we’ve been spending together lately. I feel like I don’t know much about you.”

Maybe because you don’t care about me like I care about you, Yoongi wants to say. Maybe because you only think about Y/n these days. “You could always ask,” he says instead, and curses himself for the pathetic way his voice wavers in the air.

Jin’s brows furrow deeper, and his hand begins to rub against his thigh. Self-soothing, Yoongi knows. Jin always started stroking at his own thigh when he was stressed. “It’s probably good that you asked to have this talk. I’m not sure this is best for both of us. I appreciate how you’ve stuck by me, and the support you’ve given me-” Yoongi wonders why he doesn’t just call it like it is, fucking, “-but it really seems like it’s doing more harm than good for you. Maybe we should put an end to this, Yoongichi.”

Yoongi sucks in a breath. He came out here to say that. He came out here to end it. But hearing it from Jin’s lips, it sounds abhorrent to think of. “Don’t,” Yoongi blurts without thinking, nails digging into the wood, “don’t take it all away from me just based on that. I know what I have with you, Jin, and I know that right now it isn’t ideal, but it’s better than nothing!”

Jin’s brows knit together as he shakes his head. “I don’t think this is healthy. It was irresponsible of me to lean on you in the first place, but I swear you aren’t just a substitute for Y/n. I care about you, Yoongi, it’s why I came to you.”

“You came to me because you knew I’d say yes,” Yoongi corrects, a sad smile on his face. “Because you knew how I feel. It’s just my shitty luck that you don’t feel the same. I mean, I’m crazy about you, you’re crazy about Y/n, fuck, I’m even starting to- starting to think about her and me like that too, and…” He takes a breath, feeling like a speeding train about to run out of tracks. “And I know Jimin and Tae and Jungkook are all head over heels for her and each other, Namjoon just about worships the ground she walks on, Hoseok looks at most of the people in this house like he wants to eat them alive in the best way possible, and it’s just- All these feelings are all over the place and it just seems cruel that you couldn’t just like me. To want me to still be in your bed when you wake up, to want to cook for me not just with me, to maybe kiss when we fuck, I don’t know, it’s-” Yoongi forcefully cuts himself off before he digs that particular hole any deeper. “I guess the odds just aren’t in my favour here. Do you even like men? Romantically, I mean? A good fuck is fine, but-”

“I do, yes,” Jin says with a wince.

Yoongi’s heart sinks. “Just me then,” he surmises in a hollow tone. “That’s okay.”

Jin frowns. “I’m not entirely sure what you wanted to achieve with this conversation,” he says, in a voice so soft it could shatter, in a voice that sounds like he’s worried Yoongi might be the one to shatter, “but it sounds like whether you want to admit it or not, this friends with benefits thing just isn’t right for us. There’s too many loose strings and it’s getting messy.” Yoongi goes to butt in, but Jin isn’t done, raising his brows to get him to pause. “I want to be fully honest with you, Yoongi. I don’t think it’s wise for you to put your wellbeing on the line for a possibility. We should end this.”

There’s a part of Yoongi that’s writhing in relief, at seeing a light out of the cave, an escape. But that part of Yoongi is drowned out by the majority of his being, the part that can’t bear a goodbye. “It’s not messy,” Yoongi blurts against his better judgement, “I told you I’d keep my feelings out of this and I will. I want to fuck you, hyung, and you want to fuck me, and I see no reason to stop when I’m perfectly fine.”

“Are you?” Jin asks dubiously. “I’m not going to continue this a moment further if I feel like you’re suffering because of this, Yoongi. It would be wrong of me.” He opens his mouth to continue, but is interrupted by a swooshing noise.

Yoongi jumps and whirls around just as Jungkook hops through the sliding door, grinning at the two of them. Yoongi sighs, relieved it seemed like the kid hadn’t heard anything. “This is a private conversation, Jungkook.”

“Is that, like, your code?” the youngest asks. “Wait, doesn’t matter. Anyway; I want in.”

Jin frowns. “You what?”

Jungkook’s smile just grows wider, exposing his teeth. “I want in, hyung, you two always sneak away to fuck, so I’ve come to join. I brought supplies.”

Yoongi’s mouth drops open as the black-haired boy pulls his hand out of his pocket to reveal a fistful of condom packets. “Do you just carry those around in hope, or…?”

“I specifically went upstairs to get them,” Jungkook announces proudly. “So can I join the sex pact now?”

Jin pinches his brow. “There is no sex pact, Jungkookie, and now’s really not a great ti-”

“You can join, Kookie,” Yoongi interrupts, ignoring the disbelieving stare Jin sends him. The older man wanted to be assured that Yoongi was fine? He could do that. “Come sit on my lap.”

Jungkook looks like a kid on Christmas morning as he scrambles over, shoving the condoms back in his pocket. He clambers onto Yoongi’s lap with a touch of clumsiness, but settles in proudly, back against his chest. Automatically, Yoongi wraps his arms around him, low over his hips like a seatbelt.

Jin still seems to disapprove, hand dipping below the table to rub at his leg again. “This isn’t a good idea,” he says with a frown, “things will get messy if we start involving more people.”

Yoongi grins, leaning forward to press chaste kisses against Jungkook’s neck, making him giggle and squirm. Proving he was fine was one thing, but making Jin jealous? Making him feel what Yoongi had felt every time he gushed about Y/n? Yoongi wouldn’t turn an opportunity like that down. “Come on, hyung,” he coos teasingly, one of his hands lazily pressing down on Jungkook’s quickly-stiffening bulge, “our pretty boy just wants to play. If you aren’t interested, I’ll just fuck him myself.”

Jin’s eyes flare, watching Jungkook wriggle in Yoongi’s lap as he begins to suck a trail of hickies over the sensitive flesh. “I’m sure we’ll give him a better time together,” he says in a gravelly voice, and gets up out of his chair, stalking over to the pair. “But first, don’t you want to put on a show?”

Yoongi lifts his head up as Jin’s fingers brush over his cheek, and in a moment he’s being kissed with bruising intensity, all tongue and teeth. Jungkook whines and clutches at Yoongi’s shoulder, wanting in, but Jin’s lips taste like possessiveness and jealousy, and Yoongi thinks they’ve never been so sweet.

#cypherwritersnet #bts smut #bts x reader #jimin smut #jimin x reader #jin smut #jin x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #ot7 smut #ot7 x reader

861 notes · View notes

boognish-worshipper · 3 years

Text

Moonlight

the second part/continuation of Sunrise, Sunset!

this boutta get interesting……. it gets kinda messy but don’t worry, it isn’t over yet 🙏🙏🙏 also trevor can’t spell over text to save his life

Lamar didn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t. He just kept thinking the whole situation over, trying his hardest to connect the dots. Make some sense of it, or at least find some logical way to deny the truth. Had it always been Franklin? It’s not like Lamar ever had a long term girlfriend, or even a chick he was hung up on like his… friend. How long had he been completely naïve? He felt stupid for not noticing sooner. He didn’t even have anyone to confide in. He obviously couldn’t confide in Frank right now. Shit. How would he face him? Lamar screwed his eyes shut tight. What the fuck was he gonna do? He tried thinking about who to turn to. Michael was obviously a no-go, what with the dynamic those two had. Then he thought about Trevor. Maybe he’d help. Maybe. It wouldn’t hurt to just ask, right?

hey

crazy guy

wut leroy. u need smthn?

uh, yeah

sort of

wut iz it?

some complicated bs again. nothin new.

cant u go 2 frank 4 whtevr prblm ur having

not exactly

can i meet u somewhere private?

wut 4

u tryna fuk me leroy?

loco. no.

jus. meet me @ vanilla unicorn asap

Lamar sighed heavily, starting to wonder if this was gonna be a bad idea to try and talk to him about this. But Trevor was kinda fruity anyway, so at least he wouldn’t judge. His phone buzzed again.

alrdy hear bro

Lamar raced over to the strip club, going through the back entrance. Trevor was sitting on his desk, already waiting for Lamar’s arrival.

“LD! What brings you to my fine establishment at this time?” He stood up, but remained leaning against the desk behind him.

“Listen man, it’s.. it’s serious.”

Trevor’s faced lifted, looking surprised. Or.. whatever concerned looked like by his terms.

“How serious we talkin’ bro?”

“Ion know, just some stupid shit I’ve been tryna wrap my head around.”

“Uhh, elaborate on that?”

“It’s gotta do with Fr-…eaky shit going on with me.”

Trevor squinted at him, like he was trying to read Lamar’s mind.

“Like..?”

“Something to do with love, I think?”

“Oh. Well. Why’d you come to me for help?”

“Because I..” He said, the words deflating in his mouth.

“I think you’re the only person who could understand where I’m coming from?”

“…I’m not reading ya. Just say it, Lamar. Jeez.”

“I think I’m in love with someone.”

A long pause filled the air with tension.

“That it?”

“Well, not exactly.”

“Jesus bro, what is the matter with you right now? You look like you’re gonna faint.”

“It’s, it’s someone we know, alright? There.”

Trevor squinted his eyes again, but not for long. His eyebrows flew to his hairline, and he stood upright from the desk he was perched on.

“Wait a minute…”

Lamar looked down at the ground, embarrassment swirling around in his stomach. He felt like some child that had been yelled at for stealing some candy. He didn’t like it. He was a grown fuckin’ man for crying out loud.

“You don’t mean..”

He stood there, saying nothing and grabbing his arm protectively. The silence was back, lingering for too long.

“I fuckin’ knew it.” Trevor said, almost inaudible.

“Wh.. what?” Lamar spluttered out, looking up.

“I fucking knew it!”

Somehow hearing those words comforted and pissed off Lamar. Obviously Trevor wasn’t planning on judging him for it, but how did he know before him?

“What the fuck you mean you knew?!”

“Oh please, Lamar. You aren’t a very subtle person.”

“I am too!”

“No. You’re not. You’re really not.”

“Tell me. How, how am I not subtle as a motherfucker?”

“Hmm… I can think of a few instances to count, but honestly a perfect example was that conversation we had dropping those cars off for he-who-shall-not-be-named.”

Lamar cocked his head sideways, confused. Trevor shook his head before starting his sentence back up.

“Remember when you ah… inquired about Michael and I? Our past?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“You compared us to some.. I don’t know, divorced couple or something. Figuring it was romantic?” He averted his gaze, turning pink.

“Well, I mean after the whole rundown of our partnership, I asked you about how you and our boy Frankie met.”

“Mhm..”

“And you gave me some weird, uncomfortable story about you having a threesome with him- Which he apparently wasn’t even apart of to begin with. Didn’t know why he even appeared in that memory, but I guess it sort of makes sense now. It was also the fact you.. uh, deciphered my relationship, and tried to compare it to you and Frank. That’s how I started to catch on.”

“Shit.”

“I mean I… I was in the same boat as you, kid. You were right, y’know.”

“I was?”

“Michael and I… were never perfect. But back then I was,” His voice lowered.

“…Am.” He corrected, voice barely above a whisper. Coughing, he continued.

“In love with him. Or something.”

“Shit, for real?”

“For reals homie. I know what you’re going through. Only difference is Mikey uh.. was a little more repressed than I was. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

Lamar stood in shock, eventually flopping down on the couch.

“What the fuck am I gon’ do, Trevor?”

“Well, I know I’m friends with him but I’m not exactly as close to him as you or Mike. So I can’t exactly say whether or not he’s like Michael in that regard, you know?”

“Fuck, man…”

“Hey.. I uh, I’m sorry if I wasn’t much help. I never really knew how to deal with those feelings towards Mike. It’s like, even harder to manage when you have a bond like that.”

“No, no. I needed this I think.”

“Go home, Lamar. Try to get some rest or something.”

As he got up, he placed a hand on Trevor’s shoulder.

“Thanks.”

For the first time since they met, Trevor gave him a genuine smile. He patted his hand and scooted him out the door. Driving back, he still felt sort of restless. Even if he did sleep, it wasn’t gonna be enough. When he got back home and in his bed, he pulled out his phone.

So you’re back.

yup

i thought about what you said

Wait - really?

yeah. i’m a fuckin idiot

Doesn’t take a psychic to know that.

hey

that’s uncalled for lady

What is it you need? It’s very late you know - is what I said keeping you up?

bingo bitch

and uh yeah, i need to know what the fuck u said to franklin

what does he know?

All I told him was that I saw you at his house - very frequently I might add.

I might’ve mentioned you were there in his old room all the time, in his bed with someone he knew - an older woman, perhaps? He didn’t take it too well.

wait a minute

his auntie? i mean she bad and all but

i never.. like did anything with her. not like that

He thought differently. The implications might’ve been misread - why would you choose his childhood bed for something like that? Shame on you

and i might’ve picked the wrong fuckin person to speak to

lady, what the fuck? i never fucked his auntie!

i wouldn’t do that to him, even if she got a dumptruck ass

You are a strange man Lamar. All I saw was you two in his bed, very, very often.

I wouldn’t have known you felt anything for him had you not contacted me - and even now you still made a pass at her!

all we did was talk! n there’s nothing wrong wit admiring ass.

Whatever you say - oh wait…

I’m seeing something

goddammit

it better be good

I’m seeing you two again - and you’re right. You’re talking… about Franklin?

why else would we be in his room. if i was gon fuck his auntie we would’ve done it in hers or sumn

or in the livin room maybe.

I’m seeing something else now - he’s taken the place of his aunt. Oh. Wow…

what? what is it?

what do u see?

I… completely misinterpreted Franklin’s reading. It seems like it was supposed to be him in her place.

I’m not sure how he read it exactly - my best guess was that it wasn’t the latter.

And seeing as he no longer lived there, the vision got mixed up some how for both of us. You did have some connection to her though - don’t lie. That was most likely the problem.

i mean yeah. i hit on her a couple times

maybe thought it about it once or twice

More than that.

whatever. still, i ain’t do shit to her, ion stoop that low lady

Then I apologize. But I cannot fix this problem for you - you’re going to have to talk things out

Because right now, he’s assuming you’re acting weird because you actually *did* something with his aunt.

Fuck me man

this sucks

ur evil lady, u know that?

Hey, I’m not the one hanging out with his aunt. Now go to bed. I’ll deal with you another time.

hey wait

come back

SERVICE UNAVAILABLE. PLEASE TRY AGAIN LATER.

“God fuckin’ damn it not again!”

He chucked his phone against the wall, and began yelling into his pillow. He wasn’t gonna sleep right at all until he fixed this mess. Fucking psychic lady.

The next morning when Lamar passed by his mirror he audibly gasped. He looked like shit. He looked like he was definitely hiding something. And he knew he couldn’t see Frank today. His phone buzzed and as soon as he glanced down he felt the urge to throw it across the room. Speak of the fuckin’ devil. Franklin was fucking calling him. Taking a deep breath, he hit answer.

“Yo.”

“Hey L. How you feelin’?”

“Better. Thanks.”

“Yeah man. You know what was up wit’ you or…”

“I.. I think it was some sort of stomach bug man. Doin’ alright now tho.”

“Glad to hear.”

“So are you callin’ me for something or-“

“Actually yeah. I wanted to talk to you.”

“N-now?”

“Later. Sunset? That cool wit’ you?”

“Uh yeah, yeah. Heard it’s a full moon.”

“Dope. Been meaning to talk about this for a while anyway, and you always dragging me around to go see the sunrise.”

“Makes sense.” More sense than the shit he was in the middle of.

“See you then?”

“Of course dog.”

Click. Lamar dropped his shoulders, which had grown tense during the duration of the call. He didn’t have a whole lot of time to understand what he was dealing with better. He thought to himself that he couldn’t possibly be gay, because he loved himself some hoes now and then. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel the same around Franklin. Women and men… was that possible? Could you be into men AND women? He looked it up on his phone, and found a definition that fit him. Bisexual? That’s a thing? He thought it was just, gay and straight. That you couldn’t be both. But… at least that was accounted for. Putting his phone away, he moved on to the next part of the puzzle. What was he going to do when night time came? He couldn’t straight up tell Franklin. That would ruin everything. But how would he explain that he didn’t fuck his Aunt? He had to have a reason to back it up. Either way, he was screwed.

Night came too quick. Lamar kept pacing his room, not taking his eyes off his phone that rested on his bed. Any minute Frank would call him. Any fucking minute now. He still didn’t have a plan. What was he going to do? The phone lit up, buzzing loudly. Oh no. He practically dove to answer it, feigning a nonchalant tone. It wasn’t very impressive.

“Heyyy Frank. I was waiting for word from you.”

“Hey. I’m on my way, be ready.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“See you in 5 L.”

Even after Frank hung up, he didn’t lower the phone from his ear. Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, ohshit. He was panicking now, phone dropping to the floor. Not noticing how long he was standing there, he heard a car pull up, then honk. Oh, shit. He raced out the door clumsily, trying to shove his phone in his pocket. Opening the car door, he was hit with the now overwhelming scent of Franklin. Something along the lines of weed and the same cologne he’d be buying for years. He remembered how Tanisha had gotten it for him back when they first started dating as a gift. The detail only made him more nauseous.

“Hey LD.”

“Hey.”

“Get in homie, I got a good spot for us, real sick view n shit.”

“Ah.. aight.”

The car ride wasn’t entirely awful for Lamar, listening to Collard Greens play loudly through the speakers. Franklin had taken them to some secluded spot near Vespucci beach, where no one would bother them. As they got out of the car, Lamar got a clear view of the sunset. It was even better than a sunrise. They found a bench to sit on, and Lamar felt like there wasn’t enough space between them. Did it magically fucking shrink as soon as they sat down? Shit. He cleared his throat, trying to seem neutral and not like he was internally freaking the fuck out.

“So uh… what’d you need to talk to me about?”

Franklin sighed, and Lamar’s stomach was in knots.

“It’s.. just somethin’ I been thinkin’ about for a while. I really jus’ didn’t know how to bring it up or whatever. But let’s jus’ enjoy the sunset right now.”

In contrast to how every sunrise went, the sunset contained shades of pinks and purples. There were also mixed shades of green, from the combination of yellow and blue clashing together. It was a miraculous sight. Frank was right, why didn’t they see sunsets more often? He watched the light sink down past the water, replaced by moonlight not much later. The two sat in silence, as stars filled the sky. The view had grown darker, but he could see the moonbeam reflect in the calm waves. He turned to Franklin, who had a serene expression on his face. He was blue in the moonlight, and it made Lamar feel all kinds of things he never felt for anyone before. Franklin side-eyed him, sitting upright. Here goes nothing.

“Lamar… I just. I gotta ask. I uh.. heard from someone,” Fucking psychic lady.

“That you uh.. and my.. Denise. My Aunt. Were uh.. you were at my house or something with her?”

Lamar eyes were wide. Franklin looked anywhere but him, clearly uncomfortable bringing the topic up. He kept tripping over his words, not knowing how to ask.

“Are.. and I won’t be mad if you are, but are you… and my Aunt.. Are y’all foolin’ around?” He scrunched his face up getting the words out. He almost looked hurt, like he was betrayed at the thought of it all.

“What?”

“Are you fuckin’ my Auntie or what man?!” He forced out.

“Franklin. What.”

He knew the psychic lady had said he got the wrong idea, but hearing it out loud from him was just mind boggling.

“Jesus Christ Franklin, no. I’m not! Why would you even think that?!”

Now he felt hurt. Did he really think Lamar would do something like that?

“You say shit about her all the fuckin’ time! I don’t even know why, because she’s fuckin’ nuts man! I have heard a million and one remarks about her from yo bitchass self!”

“Yeah but I would never-“

“And in my fuckin’ bed man?! Are you for real?!”

“I’m not fucking her! I never was!”

“That’s not what I fuckin’ heard dog! And don’t think I haven’t noticed how weird you’ve been actin’, all guilty n shit. I knew you were hidin’ shit from me, I jus’ didn’t think it’d be my absolute worst fuckin’ nightmare!”

“Franklin! For fucks sake bro that’s not why I’ve been actin’ so weird!”

“Then tell me, exactly, what the hell your problem is!”

Lamar’s mouth hung open, looking for what the fuck to say.

“Homie. It’s not like that. I’m seriously, seriously not fucking her. I’m… just-”

“What, Lamar?!”

“I think I’m in love.”

Shock covered Franklin’s face. Complete, utter shock. His face then twisted into a furious expression.

“Are you fuckin’ for real right now? You’re not fuckin’ my Aunt, you’re in love with her?! Fuck you man!”

“Wait, no that’s not what was I was implying-“

Franklin shot up from his seat, throwing his hands up.

“You’ve officially lost yo mind dog. You two enjoy each other. I’m fuckin’ out of here bro.”

“Franklin, wait-“

“No, no. I.. I need to go. I need to clear my mind or whatever the fuck, because I am just… unbelievably pissed right now.”

“But I’m not-“

“Save it, LD. I’ll… catch you later. Or something. Bye.”

Franklin walked back to his car, abandoning Lamar. Some how, this was worse than confessing to him. He felt sick to his stomach. How the hell was he gonna fix this mess? He remained seated, watching the water lap at the shore. He needed to fix this. And he knew, although he wish he didn’t have to, that’d he’d have to come clean. He didn’t want to ruin his friendship, and some how still did by just not blurting it out. Soon. Soon, after Franklin was ready to talk to him again. He prayed to a higher being, hoping desperately it’d all work out.

//end of pt 2!!!!! i’m sorry this is kinda angsty or whatever :( but i am gonna write a happy ending for this!! lamar deserves the world i love his character sm *sobs* (also sorry this part’s longer than the last one LMAO)

#grand theft auto 5 #gta v #lamar davis #franklin clinton #franklin/lamar #angst #one sided pining #but don’t worry #it’s gonna work out #bc franklin’s hiding shit himself 👀#not gonna say anything #framar

18 notes · View notes

rodeoxqueen · 3 years

Text

DEVIL MAY GRIND

(I)- Can You Touch This?

Dante/ AFAB!Reader

Series Summary: From a surprise rendezvous to a male strip club on your birthday to a private dance, you end up seeing eye-to-eye rather than eye-to-groin with a cowboy stripper named Dante Sparda.

Work Summary: A shy and short homebody celebrating your birthday with friends, you end up somewhere you’d never expect: a male strip club. And what you’d also never expect is a certain red-devil/cowboy stripper to lay his special treatment on you.

Tags/Warnings: 18+, AFAB! Reader, Stripper!AU, Minors Do Not Try It, Wholesome Filth

You were never one for large crowds, alcohol, loud music, and nudity. So what a mess you were in, your friends dragging you into a strip club.

It wasn’t your fault, they promised you were all going for a quiet dinner at your favorite restaurant. No loud noises, no crowds, and especially, you didn’t even know why you had to specify, no naked guys! That’s what happened at first. You went and blew out your candles on your cake at a nice place, but then things got weird. Your friends had got you thoughtful gifts, except one of them who promised to give it to you after another “surprise.”

They practically herded you to their car, blindfolding and ear-muffing you while giggling. After driving in some unfamiliar directions, you were pulled into a strange building.

So when you couldn’t hear your thoughts due to the overbearing bass in the room you were in, you realized you should’ve known better. The blindfold and earmuffs were taken off and you opened your eyes to a neon-lit room with the most hard-cut abs right in your face.

“A strip club?! W-why would you think I’d want to go to a strip club?”

“Okay, first of all (Y/N). It’s a male strip club. Second, come on! I know you want to touch some diamond abs!” One of your friends exclaimed as they threw bills at one very tan and very oiled-up man named Diego. The box from before landed on your lap, and you unwrapped it to find a giant stack of dollar bills.

“Now stuff them bills down some hottie’s pants!”

The orange thong-wearing male with the most defined quads you had ever glanced at winked at your friend and opted to dance on someone else. Clutching your drink, you swallowed thickly as other males who went to the gym every other hour thrust their hips proactively at you.

Your friends had called ahead and bought the lot of you a table to the stage, much to your chagrin.

Luckily, your ability to disappear in a room, with your meek personality and small stature, came in handy in these situations. The tall and buff guys your friends screamed over seemed to prefer the company of the more extroverted and thirsty. While other tables farther from the stage had easy contact with the not-themed strippers, you were all confronted with the stage floor dancers.

“My god, how many themes do these guys dress in?” You squeaked as an entertainer dressed like James Bond (minus the clothes except for the bowtie and gun holster) ground on the stage floor.

“Not enough! Now make it rain, (Y/N).” Another friend demanded as she took another shot.

You made a noise as your hand was forcibly placed onto an eight-pack. You quickly threw a wad of bills at the man and ran off to the bar.

“I gotta go!” You panicked, speed-walking to the bar in your heels. Stomach quivering, you put a few bills down and asked for a stronger drink. Maybe you could pass out on the table and your friends would feel bad and take you home.

You sighed as you watched your friends have the time of their lives, although they noted your absence.

“First time?” The bartender asked, sliding your fruity drink to you. You fiddled with the napkin. A woman posed in the corner with the logo “Devil May Cry” to the side of her, all lined in neon pink.

“Oh!... Yeah, it is.” You mumbled shyly. You blushed at his blue-eyed stare. Luckily, he wore a collared white shirt so you could look at him without bleeding out of your nose. He was very handsome, with rugged features and slight facial hair. His stark white hair shined even in the dim lighting.

“Ah, could tell. Watched you get dragged in here.” He chuckled.

“I-I was tricked, first of all!” You exclaimed, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“It’s alright. Your next rounds on me if you stay a lil longer.” He winked, wiping a glass. A few other people came and went, requesting all sorts of raunchy-titled drinks. Despite that, he leaned on the table where you sat, making idle conversation.

“I’m Dante.”

“Nice to meet you, Dante. I’m (Y/N).” You impulsively stuck your hand out to shake and stilled at his strong and warm grip.

He whistled.

“Nice name for a nice lady. It’s your birthday right?” You nodded.

“What did you wish for?”

“Peace and quiet.” He laughed at that, gesturing to your friends who screamed and clapped at a dark-skinned stripper who ripped off his pants.

“With those friends?” He chuckled.

“They’re a lot more restrained. This is an exception.” You whined.

The conversation grew longer. You learned that Dante worked here with his twin brother Vergil. He loved pizza and strawberry ice cream, along with nice motorcycles. A total manly man, if you asked yourself.

You found a safe space talking to him since you didn’t have to look at nude guys with your back turned.

You were hoping to talk the night away until a similarly white-haired male with a serious glare rounded the corner.

Swiping back a few stray hairs, the esteemed brother Vergil knocked the smile off his twin’s face.

“You fool! Your shift has been over for some time now.” He snapped. Dante rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, this is old douchebag.” You giggled at his comment, quickly stopping when meeting eyes with the frigid twin.

“Have you been speaking ill of me? I will-” Dante threw a towel at his brother’s face before leaving the bartending station. By leaving, he jumped over the counter.

“Hey, (Y/N), nice talking to you. I’ll see you later.” The white-haired man left to the employee’s room.

“Alright-” You muttered. You’d sit, but Vergil’s cold glare prompted you to leave and rejoin your friends.

“Where were you? Chatting up the bartender?”

“Look at you. Being social in a strip club.” They teased.

After a few more dancers, you couldn’t help but miss the blue-eyed bartender with his quips and casual flirtiness.

Suddenly, the music and lights went off. The crowd stirred. Your friend grabbed your arm.

“Oh girl they’re gonna need a mop after this.”

“Ew!” You cried out. Your friends sang that one horribly sexual song from the radio. Something about parking a truck in a garage and about wet-

A shirtless DJ grabbed the mic.

“And now, for our next entertainer, we have the Legendary Lady Killer. Hold onto your panties and your wedding rings, you’re all in for the ride of your life.”

The lights were turned back on from back to front. On stage, stood a muscular man with a cowboy hat and shawl. His legs were perfectly framed by black leather chaps and boots. You turned as red as his shawl as you could see his formidable bulge from yards across.

His spurs clinked on the floor as people began to cheer at his physique. Your jaw dropped in shock.

White hair.

“Ladies and gents, I got some questions for y’all.” He drawled, lowering his hat.

“Yes! I’m single!” Someone yelled from the back. He chuckled as others screamed with agreement.

“That’s nice ma’am. But really, I got three questions.” He made his way down the stage, his shadow covering your table.

He palmed his chest and abs, showing white chest hairs and slicked-down muscles.

“Can you touch this?” Everyone screamed for yes. He tutted.

“No, no, no.” He waggled his finger. He spun and exposed his lush tush. He was packing it front and back and you blushed while putting your face in your hands.

His hands groped his butt. Even with his giant hands, he still had more ass to spare.

“Can you touch this?” The screams grew louder. He waggled his finger again, wiggling his butt.

“No, no, no.” The crowd awed. He turned back around, a cocky grin on his face.

“Now.” He pointed to the crowd.

His palms groped the leather that concealed his huge package.

“Can you touch this?” Your friend threw a wad of cash at him, hitting him in the nipple. He stood unflinching.

“No, no, no.” He drew out each word.

“These are my laws.” Putting his hands on his hips, he rocked left to right, clicking his spurs.

“But I see a hell of a lot of lawbreakers here tonight.”

He shifted to walk around the chair placed behind him. He sat on it backward, legs spread to place his groin in the spotlight.

“And I don’t see a cop in sight.” He pointed at the DJ.

“Hit it!” Music blaring, he did his number. And boy, was the DJ right to warn you. Dante practically made sweet love to the chair, flipping his head back.

Hips circling and then pistoning the air, sweat trailed down his pecs.

You ended up throwing a few bills, hoping to avoid eye contact. It failed as he slid to his knees to the edge of the stage and crawled off the ledge onto your table. Like a preying tiger, he made his way over to you.

Thank god you had health insurance, your blood pressure was going off the charts.

Your friends lost their heads, throwing bills and screaming like banshees. But he wasn’t interested in them. His eyes preyed after your own, baby blues on an absolute beast.

“Wanna save a horse and ride a cowboy, pretty girl?” He purred as he traced your jaw. Your skin jumped as you internally imploded. This was was too sensual and people were watching, for goodness sake!

“(Y/N), if you don’t agree I will cancel your Barnes and Noble membership.” Your friend threatened.

“Come on, spare this outlaw some sugar?” You didn’t have a moment to think. Dante threw his hat on your head and carried you onto the table and to the stage.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” You shrieked.

He ran hot. So hot. Your skin burned at contact with him, pressed up against his chest as he stood you in front of the chair he practically humped.

“Take a seat, lil lady.” You blushed at his sensual persona, not sure where the kind bartender and the suave cowboy started and ended.

Obediently, you turned the chair around and sat with your ankles crossed. Dante tutted in disapproval.

His hands lingered by your legs.

“May I?” He asked. You shook your head slowly, feeling his callused hands on your thighs. He firmly spread your legs and stood over you on the chair.

As if that wasn’t enough, his arm muscles bulged and twitched as he ripped off his leather chaps. He ripped the chaps. There were no zippers or velcro straps. That was all him!

Your face a hair’s width from his abs, he gently took your hands and traced his pecs with them. He growled and winked at you.

Despite the one-in-a-million situation you were in, you shrank at the many peering eyes of the other women and bar patrons. Your anxiety was seen by Dante, who tilted your head up.

“Hey, it’s alright. Just focus on me. If you’re nervous, just give me a purple nurple or something, alright?” You laughed at his idea of a safe word and nodded.

“Okay, Dante.”

And like that, it was like you pulled a trigger. Dante grinded on your form and explored his peak-conditioned skin with your own hands.

You gasped as he led your hands down his front to his leather shorts. You couldn’t stop looking with widened eyes at his crotch. You had read erotica before, describing the male member in the throes of passion, yet this was the first time you had been this close to anything like those erotic novels.

It was obscene! Why did it seem to get larger? How was he allowed to carry that thing around without a license?!

“Hey, eyes up here.” He teased as you snapped your head up.

“O-oh! Sorry.” You whispered. Your blood had rushed to your head and you had grown deaf to your friends’ yells of validation.

“Grab him by the buns!” One of your friends yelled. Dante turned around to make eye contact with her.

With a grin, he slid your hands to the back. What he didn’t expect was you to squeeze.

“Whoa now, kitty.” He purred. You gave a watery smile.

Suddenly, a water bottle was thrown at his head. With lightning reflexes, he caught it after it bounced off of him.

“Hey! Stage times’ over, you fucking show pony.” A short-haired woman with mismatching eyes called out. Dante scoffed.

“Just givin’ a nice lady some lovin’.” He argued.

“No, get off the stage, Dante.”

“Five more minutes?”

“NOW.” He sighed. Getting off of your lap, he kissed your hand that was resting on his thigh. Lord, if you died right now, that’d be fine.

“Glad to have this dance.” He flirted.

“Y-you too.” Taking your hand, he took you for another surprise and swept you off your feet. You squeaked as he handed you to another dancer on the ground. The club-goers cheered as dancers arrived, dressed like businessmen with briefcases.

You were promptly seated, head dizzy from everything that just happened. You watched as he took his leave as if he didn’t just cause you to get feverish from how hot he was. Your friend hugged you.

“Nice work! You were so lucky!” Another friend plucked the hat off your head.

“Ah! He left his hat!” You exclaimed as you took it from her hands.

“A souvenir.”

For the rest of the night, you held onto the hat and traced the red stitching. You never saw Dante for the rest of the night, his brother in charge of the bar service.

Finally, before the last round of dancers, you were tapped on the shoulder. You found yourself staring into much harsher blue eyes.

One of your friends threw money at him, which he growled at.

“I am not an entertainer. Well, not right now.” He explained. He handed you a drink with a napkin on the bottom.

“My buffoon of a brother said to keep the hat. Although, I’m not sure why you would.”

“I-”

“The drink is on the house. Good evening with you all.”

He walked off, and you took your drink. You realized it was the same one you ordered when you got to the bar.

“Hey girlie, take a look.” A well-manicured nail pointed to the napkin. You saw in red pen an arrow pointed to the folded corner.

You shakily opened it to reveal a series of numbers and words, along with a card that flitted onto the table.

Tonight was fun, wanna do it again? The card’s for a private dance, just call and ask for Dante Sparda. No crowds, only you and me. No Lady barking up my tree for appreciating beauty either - DS

A little heart with an arrow through its center was scrawled in a corner. You picked up the laminated card and saw it was for a free private dance. Your heart beat out of your chest.

Your friends laughed as you immediately stuck it in your purse, along with the note. The club closed and you were all ushered out. The night was pitch black when you emerged from the debauchery that was the Devil May Cry strip club.

As your other wasted companions were stuffed into the car, you sat shotgun to the sober and designated driver.

You were silent the car ride home, laying your head against the window. You thought about that white-haired flirt’s remarks and how gentle he was to you.

Waving and embracing your wonderful friends, you left for your apartment with all your gifts. However, the little slips of paper in your purse weighed the heaviest on your mind.

High heels in your hand, you climbed up the stairs home.

After closing the door, you slid down the wall and let out a pleased sigh.

“Best birthday ever!” You said to no one in particular.

#polished up the original version #please enjoy the updated version whilst I work on part II #dante x reader #dante sparda #AFAB reader #devil may cry #devil may grind

42 notes · View notes

rhosyn-du · 3 years

Text

Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter Eight

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321 Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3 , Tumblr Master Post

Chapter Eight

“If you’re taking me to a strip club, I’m walking out and crashing Magnus’s bachelor party.”

“Dude, have a little faith.” Jace grabbed Alec’s elbow and helped him out of the car.

“And stop scrunching your nose to try to see through the blindfold,” Izzy said from Alec’s other side. “We can see you doing it. Besides, do you really think there aren’t going to be strippers at Magnus’s party? Have you met Catarina and Ragnor?”

“Yes, and I trust their taste in strippers more than I trust yours.”

“I think I’m supposed to be insulted,” Izzy said, opening a door so Jace could usher Alec through, “but honestly, I kind of just want to ask Cat if she knows any good strip clubs I can take Clary to for our next date night.”

Alec made a pained sound. “Can I request a moratorium on anything that involves strippers and any of my siblings?”

“You can request it,” Jace said, “but it doesn’t mean we’ll listen. Mind the gap; you’re about to step into an elevator.”

“Isn’t my bachelor party supposed to be about things I like?”

Izzy pushed the button for their floor. “No, it’s supposed to be about doing things with your friends and siblings before you get married and forget all about us.”

“Iz, I meet you for drinks literally every week. I’m not going to stop just because Magnus and I are married instead of engaged.” A slow smile spread across Alec’s face. “I’m marrying Magnus tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you are.” Jace patted Alec’s shoulder as the elevator doors slid open. “Almost there, buddy.”

They led Alec out of the elevator and down the hall.

“Okay stop,” Izzy said when they reached their destination. “You can take the blindfold off now.”

Alec made a show of keeping his eyes squeezed shut as he pulled off the blindfold, opening one eye slowly as though bracing for something horrible. Jace saw the moment Alec recognized where he was, his shoulders relaxing all at once.

Alec glanced between his siblings, unimpressed. “This is the door to our loft. I live here.”

“I told you I was going to plan you the perfect bachelor party,” Jace said. “Did you really want to spend your last night as a single man somewhere else?”

“Your party awaits, big brother,” Izzy said, swinging the door open.

“Alexander!” Magnus met them at the door, smiling broadly. “I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to show up.”

“We had to drive around enough that he wouldn’t know where we were going,” Jace explained. “You know what his crazy sense of direction is like.”

Alec gave his fiancé a questioning look. “What happened to separate bachelor parties being an important part of the tradition?”

“Ragnor and Catarina reminded me that some traditions really aren’t that important,” Magnus said airily. “Especially when breaking them would make you happy.”

“He means he sulked and whined about having to spend all night away from you until we suggested a joint party,” Catarina said, handing Alec a martini and Izzy something dark and fruity with far too many cherries. “And then he pretended like it was all our idea.”

“It was pitiful, really,” Ragnor added. “At one point, he actually languished on my couch to moan about it like some discount gothic heroine.”

“And on that note,” Magnus said, taking Alec’s arm, “my fiancé and I will be going to join our friends who don’t intend to spend all evening mocking me.”

“That’s really sweet, you know,” Alec said as he let Magnus lead him away.

“Well,” Ragnor said, “it’s my duty as Magnus’s co-best-man to make sure he is sufficiently mocked this evening, so I suppose I must follow.” He looked at Jace and Izzy. “I believe Clary and Simon are in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the cupcakes.”

Jace threw Izzy a questioning look. “Cupcakes?”

Izzy shook her head. “Must have been something Ragnor and Catarina planned. Let’s go see.”

The cupcakes, it turned out, were dick-shaped. And because it was Clary decorating them, they were very accurately dick-shaped.

“Oh yeah,” Izzy laughed, “this was definitely Cat’s doing.”

“Cat was in charge of baking, I’m in charge of decorating,” Clary confirmed, eyeing the cupcake she was working on critically. “Devil’s food cake with a chocolate-and-whiskey ganache filling and a variety of different icings. We’re calling them cock-cakes. Simon, pass me the lemon buttercream?”

“You got it, boss,” Simon said, grabbing one of the many pastry bags lined out on the counter and handing it to Clary before stepping over to Jace and greeting him with a warm smile that made Jace’s insides melt. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.” Jace couldn’t help his answering smile, couldn’t help drawing Simon into a soft kiss that felt easier than it probably should. “If I knew you were going to be creating culinary dick art without me, I would have made Iz drive Alec around on her own.”

“I’m mostly just assisting.” Simon leaned into him, stealing another quick kiss. “Clary’s the real artistic genius behind this masterpiece.”

“It’s true, my girlfriend is a genius,” Izzy agreed happily, walking over to wrap her arms around Clary’s waist from behind.

“Right now, this artistic genius is being distracted from finishing her cupcakes by too many people in the kitchen. You two,” she gestured at Simon and Jace, “take that finished tray out to the table.”

“Wait, how come we have to be the ones to leave?” Simon wondered. “Izzy’s being way more distracting than we are.”

“Because she’s cuter than you are,” Clary said without looking up from her cupcakes. “Go.”

Jace looked at Simon. “The lady has spoken, I guess. Come on, let’s go watch Alec pretend he doesn’t think these cupcakes are hilarious.”

~~~

Jace couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy. He wasn’t sure he ever had been this happy. The joint bachelor party had been a rousing success—cock-cakes, a stripper who was definitely not better than he would have hired, and all—and Jace was so glad he and Izzy had been able to help do this for Alec. And it had been amazing to see Alec so joyful and so obviously in love, to see Izzy and Clary and how happy they made each other. To feel the possibility of a love like that for himself every time Simon took his hand, to see it every time Simon smiled at him, to hear it every time Simon said his name.

It was enough to make him want to be a little reckless. Maybe even reckless enough to tell Simon that he was more to Jace than a fake-boyfriend-with-benefits, that Jace wanted them to be more. It was hardly a new thought, but Jace thought that maybe he was finally ready to say the words out loud.

“Hey, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” Simon said, as if reading his thoughts. “When we get back to the hotel,” he added, throwing a pointed glance at their Uber driver.

Jace smiled at him. “Sure. I actually wanted to talk to you, too.”

“Cool.” Simon sounded nervous. Jace could relate. Now that this was actually happening, he felt like he had an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies in his chest.

Jace’s butterflies hadn’t calmed down any by the time they made it back to their room, and he could practically feel the nervous energy radiating off Simon as he kicked his shoes off and started pulling out his clothes for morning.

“So,” Jace said, leaning against the wall with an affected casualness, “what did you want to talk about?”

Simon squared his shoulders, turned to face him. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Jace’s whole world rocked sideways. “What?”

This was not how this conversation was supposed to go.

“This whole fake dating thing. It was a mistake. I probably shouldn’t even have suggested it in the first place, but I thought—” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I was wrong, and I can’t keep pretending with you, so.” He took a deep breath, obviously steeling himself. “So, this is has to be it. After the wedding tomorrow, no more pretending.”

“Oh.” It was all Jace could find it in himself to say. He reached for the bravado he would normally wrap around himself in a situation like this, but it had deserted him entirely. “I can’t keep pretending with you.” It had all been pretend for Simon. And Jace didn’t even have any right to be hurt by it, because it was what he’d agreed to.

“It’s just,” Simon continued, “seeing Alec and Magnus so happy tonight, and seeing the way Clary and Izzy are together, and even the dumb text Becky sent me earlier about how excited she is to see Maia tomorrow, it all made me realize just how much I want that. I want it with someone I love who loves me back, and you—”

“And I’m not a relationship kind of guy,” Jace finished for him. He didn’t actually need to hear all the reasons that would never be him. He was aware of his own failings.

“Right.” Simon’s voice was barely above a whisper, all his nervous energy having drained away.

“I get it.” Jace forced a smile. Maybe he couldn’t be someone Simon wanted to really be with, but he could at least pretend he wasn’t devastated by that fact. “You deserve that kind of happiness, maybe more than anyone I know. I hope—” He drew in a sharp breath. He would not let his voice tremble. “I hope you find someone who can give it to you.”

He turned away, unable to maintain the facade any longer. “I’m going to hit the shower before bed.” He wasn’t proud of having to hide the bathroom with his feelings, but he couldn’t stay here with Simon, not now.

Jace spent a long time under the shower’s spray. Until he was sure Simon must have fallen asleep. Until he was sure all his tears had washed away.

~~~

Best man duties were almost enough to distract Jace from his own problems for most of the next morning, and he threw himself into making sure everyone in the wedding party was where they were supposed to be when they were supposed to be, keeping Max away from anything flammable, and keeping Maryse and Robert away from each other. In the thankfully rare moments of downtime, he forced himself to put on a lighthearted demeanor. He wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of Alec having a perfect wedding, especially not his own stupid feelings.

He should have known that Alec would see right through him.

“You okay?”

Jace glanced up from the mirror he was using to fix his bowtie. Everything was set, everyone was in their proper places, and Jace had nothing left to do but keep Alec company and wait for the ceremony to start.

“I’m fine. I’m not the one getting married in,” Jace checked his watch, “twenty-three minutes.”

“Don’t deflect. You’re doing that thing you do with your eyebrows when something’s really bothering you, and I’m not doing anything for the next twenty-three minutes if you want to talk about it.”

“What I want,” Jace told him, “is for you to stop worrying about other people and get your ass married.”

“Fair enough,” Alec agreed. “But I’m here when you do want to talk about it. I know I’ve been completely wrapped up in wedding stuff for a while, but you’re still my brother and my best friend, and I don’t want you to think you’re any less important to me now than you always have been.”

Jace walked over and put a hand on Alec’s shoulder. “The only complaint I have about you being wrapped up in wedding stuff is how sappy it’s apparently made you.”

Alec chuckled. “Oh god, that was really sappy, wasn’t it? Shit.” He wiped at his eyes. “I think I might actually cry out there. You’re not allowed to make fun of me if I do.”

“Buddy,” Jace said gravely, “as your brother and best man, it is my solemn duty to make fun of you for it for the rest of our lives. But I’ll wait until you’re back from your honeymoon.”

Alec didn’t cry during the ceremony. Jace noticed a few moments when he had distinctly watery eyes, though, and filed those away for future teasing. Then Alec and Magnus were kissing and the ceremony was over and Jace had absolutely nothing left to distract him from his thoughts.

Especially when the subject of those thoughts was waiting for him in the reception hall, looking as hot as Jace had ever seen him in a perfectly tailored black suit. Jace had managed to avoid looking for Simon during the wedding, and seeing him now hit like a punch to the gut. His emotions were still too raw to deal with what had happened the night before, and there was only one way he was going to make it through this. Luckily, it was the thing he was supposed to be doing. Namely, pretending his ass off.

So he greeted Simon with a warm smile and a kiss to the cheek before settling into his seat. They were at a table with the rest of the wedding party, along with Clary, and it was all so familiar that Jace had no trouble falling back into his role, teasing the hell out of Alec and congratulating the happy couple. Simon made it easy, not acting any different than he had before their conversation, never hesitating to offer small touches and gestures of physical affection, even moving his chair closer so they could lean into each other once they were done eating. It would have made Jace a little sick if he let himself think about it, which he pointedly did not.

Jace let himself get lost in it. It was stupid, and probably a little selfish, but if this was the last time he would ever get to be with Simon like this, he was going to enjoy it.

“Dance with me.” He didn’t mean to say it, but apparently he’d had enough champagne that he wasn’t quite thinking before speaking anymore. He knew as soon as he said it that he’d overstepped. After all, look what had happened the last time they’d danced together.

“Oh.” Simon looked genuinely shocked by the suggestion. “I, uh...”

“I mean,” Jace backpedaled, “if you want to.”

“I believe I might fancy a dance, myself,” Ragnor said. He extended his hand to Madzie, the flower girl and Catarina’s daughter. “Might I have this dance, young lady?”

“Can we do the twirls?” Madzie asked, jumping up from her chair and spinning around to demonstrate.

“Obviously,” Ragnor told her seriously. “After all, what’s the point of dancing without twirls?”

Madzie didn’t bother to give a verbal answer, just grabbed Ragnor’s hand and skipped off toward the dance floor.

“With any luck, that will help her work off some of the sugar buzz from all that cake.” Catarina gave Magnus a long look. “I can’t believe you gave her a second slice.”

“My dearest Catarina, it’s my wedding day, and I will spoil my goddaughter if I want to.”

Catarina scoffed. “You say that like you don’t spoil her every day.”

“It’s true,” Alec agreed. “We might need to give her a third slice if we want to spoil her extra today.” He managed to keep a straight face right up until Cat’s napkin hit him in the face.

“I think I might need to dance off my own sugar buzz,” Izzy announced, grabbing Clary’s hand. “Come on, hot stuff. Let’s go shake our booties.”

Clary laughed. “I can’t exactly say no when you’re offering to shake your booty for me.”

“You know what?” Simon said suddenly. The look he gave Jace was challenging. “I do want to dance.”

It was Jace’s turn to be shocked, but he recovered quickly. “Okay.” He met Simon’s challenge with a smirk. “Let’s dance.”

Jace’s bravado was shaken slightly when the music transitioned to a slow love song right as they made it to the dance floor. But Simon didn’t hesitate, stepping onto the dance floor and drawing him close.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke, rocking gently to the music. They danced close enough that Jace could hear Simon’s breaths, feel them against his cheek. It was too much and not enough all at once, and Jace had to say something or he was going to go crazy.

“Thanks, by the way. For, you know, all of this. I don’t think I ever said that.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for.” Simon’s voice was low and intimate. “This was as much for me as it was for you.”

Jace wanted to say that it couldn’t possibly be, that if any of this meant half what it did to him for Simon, then he wouldn’t be able to give it up so easily. But that would have been deeply unfair, no matter how true, so instead he just said, “Well, thank you, anyway.”

Simon pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, and Jace didn’t understand why he looked so sad. “Thank you.”

And then they were kissing, slow and gentle, and Jace didn’t even remember moving, but he must have or how else could they have gotten here? All the longing and heartbreak he’d been pushing down all day rose up, threatening to break him open and spill out all over the dance floor. The only things holding him together were Simon’s arms around him, Simon’s body pressed against his as they swayed to near-forgotten music, Simon’s mouth on his.

When the song ended and Simon pulled away from him, Jace stumbled and had to force himself upright.

“Come back to the hotel with me,” he said urgently. He couldn’t just let Simon go, he realized, not without at least trying. They could go back to their room, and they could talk, and Jace would somehow find the words to convince Simon to stay. “Please.”

Simon closed his eyes and visibly steeled himself. When he opened them again, Jace knew he’d lost before he even had the chance to put up a fight.

“I already made plans to hang out with Becky and Maia tonight. You know, sibling and sibling’s-maybe-girlfriend bonding. Maia’s going to give me a ride back to Boston in the morning.” He took Jace’s hand and lifted it to his mouth to place a gentle kiss on his knuckles, then pressed something small and metal into his palm before letting go.

Jace couldn’t do anything but watch him walk away, the weight of his father’s ring heavier than it had any right to be in his hand.

~~~

The apartment was quiet when Jace got home, and he was both relieved that he wouldn’t have to face Simon yet and disappointed because, as much as he hated that he would have to box his feelings away, he missed Simon, even though it had only been two days since they’d last seen each other.

He found the note pinned to the refrigerator, held in place by the Spider-Man magnet that he’d gotten Simon as a “congrats on surviving a horrible lab partner and not failing chemistry” gift last year.

Staying at Bat’s for a while. -S

That was all. Nothing about why Simon had left or when he was coming back. If he was coming back. Jace’s fingers almost itched with the need to text Simon to find out exactly what the hell was going on, but the fact that Simon had left a note instead of texting suggested he didn’t mean for this to be a discussion.

Not that Jace actually needed a discussion. Simon had made it very clear that things were over between the two of them, that he didn’t feel the same way about Jace that Jace did about him, and instead of accepting it and moving on like a good friend would have, he’d kissed Simon at the wedding. He’d been on the verge of begging Simon to give him a chance. Of course Simon didn’t want to see him right now. He wouldn’t want to see him, either.

For half a second, Jace considered taking Alec up on his offer to call if he needed to talk, but Alec was on his honeymoon, and Jace might on occasion be a self-centered asshole, but he didn’t want to be that much of a self-centered asshole. Instead, he grabbed his half-empty package of Double Stuf Oreos and took them to the couch, where he turned on Return of the Jedi and bundled himself up in the fleece blanket Simon always used when his feet got too cold in winter.

When the movie was over and the Oreos were long gone, he dragged the blanket into Simon’s room and curled up on his bed, on top of the covers. Sleeping on top of Simon’s bed wasn’t as pathetic as sleeping in Simon’s bed, he reasoned. Especially if no one was there to see it. And if the fleece blanket kept any tears from getting on Simon’s comforter, then he wasn’t really crying.

#shadowhunters #shmb2021 #jimon #jimon fic #jace wayland #simon lewis

6 notes · View notes

prettyboyswow · 4 years

Text

The CEO pt. 2

Author’s Note: WOW!! I had no idea how many of you would want a part 2 for The CEO! I’m so glad you all liked modern! Tommy as much as I do! I’m thinking about making this into a 5+ part series, but let me know what you all think in the comments! Again, thank you all so much for your likes, reblogs, comments, messages, etc. It means the world to me to see all of your kind words!! I love y’all!

* flashbacks/texts are in bold and thoughts are in italics! *

Pairing: Modern!Thomas Shelby x fem!reader

Warning: none

Tags: @lucillethings @amirahiddleston @giowritess

The CEO Part 1

“What was that about,” Emmy raised her eyebrows in confusion, her head nudging in the direction of Mr. Shelby’s retreating form.

“He was just wishing us a fun evening,” I cleared my throat, handing Macie her water before sitting back in the booth. I breifly glanced at Thomas, catching his eyes across the room.

“Could we uh, could we dance after my friends have left,” I wet my lips, trying to look anywhere other than his icy blue eyes. From the corner of my eye I saw him furrow his brows ever so slightly before nodding.

“That’s probably best,” He nodded, taking a small step away from me. “Come find me when you’re free.”

The conversation at the booth jumped from subject to subject, nothing really catching my attention. Tyler had placed his arm around my shoulders in a feeble attempt at flirting. However, my thoughts were consumed by Thomas Shelby, the most handsome man I’d ever seen. All I could think about was his proposal to dance. What did that even mean? He didn’t ask Emmy to dance. He didn’t ask Kyle, Jessica, or Macie either. As much as I wanted it to mean something, it most likely didn’t. The Shelby brothers had a reputation for being popular with the ladies.

“(Y/N), you okay,” Jessica frowned, watching me over her beer. I straightened my shoulders, nodding slightly. “Mm, yeah. I’m just getting a little tired.”

The rest of the group nodded, Kyle checking his watch, “Yeah, It’s getting pretty late. Maybe we should head out.”

Emmy stood, stumbling into Kyle’s strong arms, “As much as I hate to admit it, I think I’m drunk.” She giggled as Kyle grabbed her purse, making sure to keep a strong hold on her. Everyone filed out of the booth, grabbing their belongings and leaving a tip for our waitress.

“You guys go ahead without me. I’m going to head to the bathroom and then catch a cab,” I straightened my dress out and wrapped my arms around myself.

“Are you sure? I can stay with you,” Tyler looked me over, leaning his head to the side slightly. I nodded and gave a small smile, “I’m sure! I’ll be really quick and I’ll ask a security guard to stand with me while I catch a cab!”

Just leave so I can dance with my super hot boss, please. Tyler only nodded in response as I hugged everyone goodbye. Once I had seen the last of my co-workers exit the club, I made my way to the bar. I ordered a fruity drink and sat on the nearest empty barstool.

Okay, (Y/N), you can do this. You can find Thomas Shelby and dance the night away. No big deal. I mean, obviously he wants to be around me. He asked me to dance! I can do this.

I took a large sip of my drink through the bright pink straw before swivelling the barstool to face the rest of the club. Time to scope out Thomas Shelby. Before I had even started searching, I locked eyes with the blue eyed man who was standing a few feet away. He tipped his head slightly at me, watching my every movement. I beckoned him slightly with a nod of my head before turning back towards the bar.

A moment later, a large, rough hand landed on my upper arm and a pair of lips lowered to my ear, “I think you owe me a dance.”

I grinned, nodding slowly as I turned my face to meet his, “I think you’re right, Mr. Shelby.”

I placed my empty glass on the counter before standing to meet him. He gave me his arm, allowing me to latch arms with him. I could feel my heart beating hard enough to jump out of my chest, praying that I didn’t make a fool of myself in front of him.

“You don’t seem like the type of person who’d dance to club music, Mr. Shelby,” I let out a nervous laugh, trying not to trip over my own feet as we navigated our way through the crowd of dancing bodies.

“I’m not,” he stopped in the middle of the dance floor and turned me in his arms. He placed one hand on my waist, the other lacing his fingers through my own. My cheeks flushed red as we stood swaying in the middle of the raving dance floor, our bodies almost flush against each other.

We danced in silence for a while as I racked my brain to think of something, literally anything to say. His scent was intoxicating and I could feel his gaze on me like a ton of bricks.

The thing about Thomas Shelby was that he was gorgeous. Like super-model-melt-your-eyes kinda gorgous. Not only was he beautiful, he was incredibly smart. He spoke eloquently and intelligently. He captivated the attention of everyone he was around. He was charming, witty, and so mysterious. No one knew much about his private life, no matter how hard the tabloids tried to dig. He kept to himself and his close friends and family.

All I wanted was a peak behind the curtain. Who was Thomas Shelby when no one else was around? What was his favorite food? When was the last time he cried? What was his favorite memory? His least favorite memory? Did he sleep with the TV on? How does he like his eggs cooked?

As I stood lost in thought, Thomas pulled me closer, our chests touching ever so slightly, “You’re awfully quiet, aren’t you?”

“I’m just thinking,” my cheeks burned as I looked up to meet his glittering eyes.

“About,” he questioned, laying our intertwined hands on his chest.

“Just about this,” I gripped his hand a little tighter, “Why’d you ask me to dance?”

“Because I wanted to,” he said it so matter of factly that I decided to leave it, even though every bone in my body wanted to ask “why.”

I nodded and chewed on the inside of my cheek, “Right.”

He let out a small chuckle, looking down at me with a tiny smirk on his chiseled face, “I asked you to dance because I think you’re interesting.”

I scrunched my nose up, giving him an incredulous look, “You think I’m interesting...?”

He nodded, moving his hand on my waist a little lower. “I do. You’re different.”

“Oh. Well, um, I think you’re interesting too, Mr. Shelby.”

“Call me Thomas,” his smirk only grew as he watched my cheeks blush.

“Alright, Thomas. Call me (Y/N),” I gave him a weak smile, feeling myself grow more anxious under his gaze.

“Alright, (Y/N),” he squeezed my hand ever so slightly before letting go of me entirely. “I need to get going.” He nodded towards his brothers who were loudly arguing with the bartender.

I let out a laugh and nodded, “I think you’re right.”

I took a step back and watched as he looked between myself and his brothers, “I enjoyed our dance. I’ll see you soon, (Y/N).”

And with that, he paced quickly to his brothers, grabbing them by the shoulders to get their attention. He shot me a quick smirk as he dragged them to the exit.

Did that really just happen? Did I really just slow dance with Thomas Shelby?

—

It had been about 2 weeks since I had slow danced with Thomas at the club. Since then, I’d only seen him in passing around the office. We’d made eye contact a few times, and I’d caught him staring at me from across the room a handful of times. I was trying my best not to read too much into anything, especially since we hadn’t spoken since that night. However, my heart and hormones were totally in control in this situation and I couldn’t help but daydream about my beautiful boss.

I desperately wanted to speak to him, to be near him again. I hadn’t told anyone about what happened, not even Emmy. I didn’t want to get either of us in trouble, even if nothing really happened. I’m sure it’d be frowned upon for anything to happen between the two of us. He’s the CEO of the company and I work for him after all.

I was sitting in my car in the parking lot on my lunch break, scrolling through Instagram when I got a text from an unknown number.

When I opened the message, my heart nearly burst through my chest.

Unknown Number: (Y/N), it’s Thomas.

How did he get my phone number? Why was he texting me? Snap out of it and answer, girl!

Me: Hi, Thomas. How’d you get my phone number?

I waited for only a moment before my phone vibrates against my lap.

Thomas: Your application. I wanted to ask you for it, but I haven’t been able to speak to you lately. I just wanted to say I had a nice time the other night.

Me: Oh, I see. I had a nice time too. Thank you for the dance.

Thomas: I’m glad. I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me tomorrow night? I could pick you up around 7.

WHAT?! He wants to have dinner with me? Okay, focus, this could totally just be a work dinner.

Me: I’d love to, Thomas. Should I send my address, or did you sneak that from my application too?

I grinned as the three little bubbles appeared, disappeared, and reapppeard on my screen.

Thomas: You could send it to me so I feel less like a creep.

I let out a laugh, quickly typing my address out for him. A moment later, my phone vibrated with a notification.

Thomas: Great, I’ll see you tomorrow at 7 pm. Have a good day, (Y/N).

Me: You too, Thomas. See you tomorrow.

I quickly put my phone into my purse and made my way back into the sleek, modern building.

I can’t believe I’m going on a date with my boss. Is this a date? Do I want it to be a date?

—

I stood in front of my mirror, zipping up the blush colored dress I had bought specifically for tonight. My hair was curled into loose waves and my makeup was light and natural. I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard, or like I thought this was anything more than a casual meeting. For all I know, he was going to tell me I was a terrible employee and fire me on the spot. I mean, it was highly unlikely but not impossible.

I checked my phone every few minutes, checking the time and for any texts from Thomas. So far, nothing. It was only 6:37, but I was pacing around my apartment like a crazed woman.

My phone vibrated with a text from Thomas, making my heart jump to my throat.

Thomas: On my way. I’m excited to see you.

Oh my God...breathe (Y/N)!!!

Me: Ditto!

Ditto? DITTO??? What am I even doing? He’s going to think I’m some weirdo.

I sat on my couch, huffing as I watched the three dots disappear from the screen. I closed my eyes and tried to take deep, relaxing breaths.

There is nothing for me to worry about. He’s my boss. I’m his employee. This is a business dinner. I need to calm down! He’s human just like I am.

A knock at my front door jolted me from my thoughts. I quickly stood, running my hands over my wrinkled dress before making my way to the door. I looked through the peep hole to see Thomas standing in a nice black suit. He looked as gorgeous as ever. I unlocked the door and swung it open to see him smiling at me.

“You look beautiful, (Y/N),” he gave me his arm to take. I quickly shut and locked the door behind me, taking his arm to walk back down the hall.

“Thank you. You look beautiful too,” I bit the inside of my cheek as he let out a small chuckle and a “thank you.”

“So, where are we going,” I questioned as we stepped into the elevator, watching as he pressed the button for the first floor.

“It’s a surprise,” he looked down at me, letting his eyes scan over my appearance. His gaze was so intense I turned my head back to the elevator doors, “Good thing I like surprises.”

—

AUTHORS NOTE: sorry for the wait yall!! Please let me know what you think and if there should be/you want another part!! I love reading your comments! ❤️

144 notes · View notes

daydreamingintheimpalax · 4 years

Text

Looking out

Prompt: “Hey,” A says, sliding over on the bar stools to get B’s attention. “Don’t drink that. I think your date’s trying to drug you.”

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of possible drugging.

Dean X Reader

Dean didn't want to be here. He hated frat parties, he really did, piling a bunch of drunken college kids into the nearest college bar during rush season was the worst. He looked around, his whiskey glass half full in his hand. He preferred small groups, random nights with his buddies shooting pool or playing cards.

He hated college bars. His frat was rushing, and so, he was stuck, stuck being here after having to be dragged by his best friend Nicky. The only thing that was keeping him here was her, Y/N.

She was sat a few tables down, with a guy he recognized from his house’s rival frat. Nicky had slept with his girlfriend last year and the guy along with his frat had hated them ever since.

Todd slowly wrapped and arm around y/n, pulling her closer, she seemed to hesitate but didn't make a move to do anything about it. He knew she was single, and she was stunning, Dean would be lying if he said she didn't have him and every other guy on campus running crazy for her, but she wasn't easy, she didn't sleep around and she barely ever got white girl wasted unlike most of the girls in her fraternity. He admired her for it, it made her more attractive.

He'd spoken to her before, he was even paired up on a project with her in one class, he considered them friends, but he had a bit of a flirty reputation and he didn't want her thinking he saw her as another conquest so he kept his distance.

He watched as they talked, he leaned in close whispering in her ear and Dean smirked at the grossed out look on her face that Todd didn't notice. Todd was a creep, he was gross and if the stories he heard had any truth, he feared a little for y/n.

The bartender sat two new drinks in front of them and y/n mumbled something to him, Todd gave her a nod before both boys watched her walk to the ladies room.

Dean looked back at Todd, one of his buddies coming up and patting him on the back, Todd have him a wink before subtlety grabbing something out of the other guys hand. Dean frowned, wondering if they were passing around drugs. He really hated frat parties.

Before he knew what happened, Todd slipped y/n’s drink towards him, Dean couldn't tell what he was doing, he wasn't angled well enough to see, but he did notice him stir her drink before tossing away the stir stick. When he put her drink back, Dean didn't fail to notice it fizzle just a tad before it stopped.

You stared into the bathroom mirror, touching up your eyeliner, you really were dreading going back out there, the girls had gone off with their own eyes set on their targets and left you with Todd, you didn't think he was a horrible person, but he isn't your type, sitting with him all night had been a bore, all he talked about was the pranks they played on new pledges and drinking games they'd made up, plus you'd heard stories about him and weren't too keen on being another one night stand.

You sighed, you had noticed Dean earlier, he'd looked like he was as bored being here as you were, you half ass considered jumping into his Impala and having him take you out of here, at least you knew with Dean you'd be in for some fun, no matter what it was, plus you were friends, you knew he'd get you out of here if you really wanted him to.

You slowly made your way back to the bar, half hoping Todd would've found some other entertainment for the night and you'd be free to escape. Unlucky, that was not what happened. You sat back down in your seat, sending him a small smile while he shot you a wink.

“Now it's my turn to empty the tank, be right back baby.” He stated, making his way towards the men's room, stopping to chit chat when a buddy of his stopped him. You were just happy for the few minutes of peace.

You picked up your glass, ready to take a huge gulp of the only thing making this 'date’ bearable. Before you could though, Dean plopped himself into the seat previously occupied by shit for brains.

“Hey.” He smiled widely, and suddenly your mood was uplifted. You smiled back at him, taking notice how much greener his eyes seemed in this dim lighting.

“What do you want Winchester? I know you're not here just to talk. Getting lonely over on your side?” you teased him and he chuckled.

“I hate frat parties, I don't like half these people, half the guys are losers who will do anything to get laid, and the girls well....they’re fun once in a while but after a while, you get bored of the same drunken girls and missionary sex with half the effort, or they end up barfing and you're stuck helping to get them home.” He shrugs, you practically choke out a laugh. “It’s too much work, I'm not a babysitter, if you can't handle your liquor, stay home.” He speaks and you chuckle.

You nervously lift your glass again, needing a little more courage if you're going to have a conversation with Dean. Dean was one of the hottest boys in the frat house and all the girls knew it. So many of your own friends having tried it on with him, usually he didn't do much, it was very rare for him to have sex with them, most of the time, they'd fool around and he'd move on. The one positive about him was that at least he was clear about his intentions, unlike other jackasses in his frat.

Just as you lifted your glass to your lips, Dean spoke, stopping you.

“Don’t drink that, I think your dates trying to drug you.” He warned, and you stared at him with wide eyes before staring at your drink. You looked back at him before speaking.

“How do you know?” you frowned and he shrugged, “I don't for sure, but when you stepped away he grabbed your drink and I caught him stirring it, when he put it back, it was fizzling, I don’t trust it.” He stated simply, you softly nodded before setting it down.

“Oh, well thank you, means a lot that you told me.” You smile, he smiled back, looking at you with a hint of longing.

“Yeah well, I wouldn't want to see anything bad happen to you.” He shrugs, before you can say anything, Todd is back, clearing his throat.

“Excuse me, you mind leaving my date alone. We're trying to enjoy our drinks.” Todd speaks, glaring at Dean. Dean stands, meeting him eye to eye, he's slightly taller than Todd, and from campus gossip, Dean wasn't someone easily fucked with. He was tough.

“Sure thing Todd, try not to drug her next one yeah?” Dean smirks and he begins to walk away but Todd grabs him, pulling him back.

“The fuck you say to me, Winchester?” He asks, squinting at Dean. Dean rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest and you can see the muscle he hides behind his flannels and leather jacket that's too big for his frame.

“Was I not clear enough” Dean sasses, before getting closer to his face. “Try. Not. To. Drug. Her. Next. Drink. Douchebag.” He smiles, “There, did you catch it that time?” He says sarcastically and the redness on Todd's face is comical.

“I didn't drug her drink, I don't do that!” Todd states furiously. He looks over at you and you shrug, “Baby don't listen to him, he's just jealous I got a date with you, everyone on campus knows one fuck Winchester has been dying to get in those panties since freshman year.” Todd laughs, Deans sarcastic smile disappearing and his face going blank, when his eyes meet Todd’s, it's clear he's angry.

“Alright then, “ He speaks, he reaches over to the bar, grabbing your drink before handing it out to Todd. “If there's nothing in it, you won't mind drinking it yourself and giving her yours.” Dean shrugs, and Todd goes quiet, fidgeting before he gains his composure and speaks.

“I don't like those fruity drinks, not my thing.” Todd smiles, winking over at you. You roll your eyes, before speaking. “Drink it, Todd. I'm not drinking that until you take the first sip, and make it a big one.” You raise an eyebrow, waiting.

Todd never grabs it, instead, he huffs, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck you, Winchester.” He snaps at Dean and Dean chuckles, “Nah, I don't swing that way, but thanks for the offer.” Dean winks and Todd runs off seething.

Dean shakes his head, setting the drink back down, “Fucking twat.” He speaks, you chuckle before he looks back at you, smiling.

“Sorry you had to deal with that.” You give him a small head shake, a silent signal not to worry, “It's not your fault, thanks for saving me.” You shrug and he nods before he gets up.

“I’m gonna head home, I think I've had enough entertainment for the night, enjoy your night, y/n.” He smiles, he begins to walk but you stop him.

“Hey Dean,” he stops and turns back to you, humming out, “Was what he said true?” you ask and he gives you a confused look. “About what?” he asks, barely having heard what he'd said to begin with.

You get slightly shy, blushing slightly. “About uh, you know, wanting to get in my pants.” You ask, and he looks away, running a hand through his hair.

“Um, somewhat, not exactly.” He says honestly, half shrugging. You frown, giving him a confused look.

“What do you mean somewhat?” You bite your lip, waiting for a response.

He chuckles mostly to himself, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth. “Well, he made it seem way more sexual, it's not like that. Some of the guys they uh, they know I've kinda been crushing on you since freshman year, but I never said anything about trying to get in your pants.” He states, a slight redness to his cheeks.

You smile softly, “Oh, why didn't you say anything, or you know, ask me out?” You wonder, and he smirks, “I don't exactly have a great reputation, I figured you'd heard some stuff and wouldn't want to give me a chance, and I respect you too much to let people see us and think I just wanna get in your pants, you deserve better.” He shrugs and you smile widely.

“Well, people can say and think what they want, I know you're a good guy, and if you wanted to ask me out, I'd be okay with that.” You shrug and his eyes light up.

“really?” he asks and you nod. He softly laughs, “Well, in that case, would you like to get out of here, I know a good burger joint about 20 minutes away.” He raises a brow and you nod, “Hell yeah, let's go.” You grab your coat and purse before making your way towards the door.

Just before they leave Dean turns to leave some cash on the counter for his drinks, and he catches Todd's eye, who's watching them enraged, Dean smiles, shooting him a wink before he turns back, walking out with y/n smiling widely at him.

#dean X reader #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester X Reader

117 notes · View notes

freshouttaparsnips · 3 years

Photo

You were a simple kind of guy.

Life decided you deserved a little bit of complexity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a new series of fic that im gonna work on in my spare time!! its a skeletoncest polycule, but with an added reader twist uwu

tags: Reverse Harem, polycule, Poly of Skeletons, Fontcest, Papcest, Sanscest, but there's also a reader, Slice of Life, no real plot, Tropes Babey, Series, Homelessness, Reader is homeless, Reader has a dog, Reader is FtM, reader is unnamed

read it Ao3

or read chapter 1: Meeting the Horror Fellas below!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were a simple kind of guy. Sure, you hadn’t meant to make this move over to the Ebbott region, it was actually on the end of the long list of places you wanted to move. But that was where your job had moved you, so that’s where you’d picked up and gone, both you and your boxer pup, Peony. She hadn’t actually minded much; there were lots of dog parks here for her to hang out in, long stretches of sidewalks just around your apartment that definitely went on just long enough for her to get the need to GO out of her system. Your job was cushy, paid enough for you to splurge a little on the weekends, for you and Peony both.

You appreciated the finer sides of living just under a mountain… at least until said mountain damn near exploded and “Monsterkind” came through.

Now, that was not to say you had anything against monsters. Not in the slightest! You weren’t from around here, you understood a little of the general bias that people had against anything new.

But when the monsters had started entering the work force, well. People on the semi-lower rungs like you? Booted to the curb without a second thought in the name of equality. You’d lost your apartment, and Peony and you had been living in your squat little Ford ever since. It was rough, but you’d been saving up to rent a trailer on the outskirts of town for a few months, and your acceptance of monsters had remained, if not hardened a little.

You weren't going to blame them for needing the essentials of living, just the same as everyone else.

Which led to where you were now, warily watching a couple of more rough looking monsters that were chatting up the tiny, blond lady that worked the front counter of the store you’d finally gotten a job at. Peony had been adopted by the owners of the store as a guard dog, the little old couple chattering on and on about how cute she was. It just meant that you were allowed to keep her with you when you were on duty, a little vest velcro’d around her with the name and logo of the store on it.

You were stocking shelves, Peony keeping an eye on the situation just like you were. The two monsters were clearly from a Fellgrounds, a few other mountains nearby that had also opened up to reveal some monster societies that had gone a little sideways. Most of them had scars, war wounds, and generally had a distrust for other people.

You felt for these monsters more than others; they had to go through extensive testing and rehabilitation to even leave their Underground, though a lot of them had passed those tests if the local news was anything to believe. You weren’t really sure what to believe much these days, but you knew that Polly up at the cash register was trans and had already dealt with a few assholes today. Monster or human, you weren’t letting it slide.

Before you could even set down your can to head up, just to make absolutely certain nothing untoward was going on, a shadow passed over you, the lights above flickering in uneasy patterns as you stood stock still. The tallest monster you’d ever seen in person was passing through the next aisle over, their skeletal head nearly scraping the ceiling as they moved silently towards Polly. Something inside of you was terrified at the sheer display of power, the intent of magic thick in the air, but even you with your limited knowledge could tell it wasn’t directed towards her.

The two monsters were staring right at him, your own eyes locked on his lanky form as he made his way silently to the very front and tilted his head. “Evening friends, are you having issues with the cash register working your cards? I had such an issue the other day, I can help walk you through the process.”

There was nothing but primal fear in their eyes as the two monsters meekly shook their heads, jerking a thumb towards the door as they left, citing their sudden need to be elsewhere. The skeleton watched them go with something like satisfaction in his eyes, and it wasn’t until then that you noticed his outfit.

A bright pink and green tracksuit covered him from neck to ankles, and a bright peach exercise band around his head that said “JOG BOY” on it. Something about it made you relax a little from the tense state you’d been in, your hands setting the cans they’d been tightly holding on their respective shelves.

It was then that you noticed that the intent from earlier was gone, and good lord, was all that just from this dude? You watched as he leaned down to see Polly better, his expression one of humble kindness. She seemed to know him, looking relieved, and you couldn’t hear their full conversation so you figured you’d ask her later just what that was all about… and if you needed to take on more shifts to make sure that people, human and monster both, weren’t harassing the workers.

You’d grown to love working at this store, what with the inclusive policies and the fact that they let Peony stay with you on shift, and you weren’t going to see anyone or anything take advantage of it.

Just as you’d turned back to your work, though, momentary worry about your coworkers abated, that intent came back, only this time it felt cold. The skeleton up front’s warning had been hot, blistering to the mind, a sheer warning of pain.

This one felt like someone had dunked you in an ice bath and was threatening to leave you that way.

“You okay there, pal? Yer looking a little white around the edges.”

The voice came from just behind, your eyes squeezing shut before you turned around and glared hard at whatever asshole was trying to start shit… only to find yourself looking at the chest of another really big monster. He was also a skeleton, but he was shorter by a few feet (even as he towered over you). He was dressed more modestly, what with a simple ratty blue jacket and a pair of gray basketball shorts, but he was wearing a small pink bracelet around his wrist. Before you could even try to guess what it meant, he was leaning toward you a little.

“Hey, you okay? Seriously, I didn’t think Paps’ magic was that strong- well. Naw, that’s a lie, it is that strong.”

You blinked, still staring up at him, when suddenly you were grasped between two boney hands, lifted up and up until you were looking into the hollow eyes of the first skeleton… Paps?

“Oh, my dear human, I haven’t broken you, have I? I can admit my intent can come off a bit… excuse the pun, but intense, to those who aren’t used to our magic signature.” Then he was squinting at you, somehow, and you felt as though your very soul was being examined. You could smell the very subtle hint of some kind of fruity cologne, which made you want to laugh hysterically; what skeleton needed to wear perfume?

“He’s probably fine, Paps. We need’a get back before Red takes off.”

“Paps” rolled his eyes, gently depositing you back on the floor where Peony was severely sniffing all over you as if looking for damage, before nodding.

“Yes, I suppose you’re correct. Human!!”

You stood at attention and he laughed, handing you a little, lime colored business card. You took it with questioning hands, peering down at it as he explained.

“This is my phone number. Please text whenever you have time and would like to have lunch, I wish to apologize for putting you through such shock.”

And with that he pat you on the shoulder, seeming not to notice as you buckled a little under the weight and headed for the front doors, the other, shorter skeleton following along behind with a snicker.

You blinked hard, before collapsing to your ass on the floor, Peony licking your face vigorously once she’d found no signs of injury. You patted her gently both to assure her and to keep her out of your face, but stared down at the card, a simple number on it from the local area.

~THE PHONE NUMBER OF THE GREAT ICHOR!~

You blinked back the tears that had been growing, of both frustration and mild fear, and huffed in pain as you made yourself get up off the floor. Polly would be worried about you, and you really needed to finish stacking these cans.

#fresh writes #undertale #fontcest #papyrus/reader #sans/reader #undertail #fluff #angst #all the good tropes

8 notes · View notes

originofjaehyun · 4 years

Text

Prelude: After Story | Part 1 | Punch

Prelude: After Story Masterlist

Word count: 2,929

Warnings: None

Part 1 | Punch

“‘Cause I’m a clean fighter.”

Read Interlude: No More Drama

Tag list: @justineasian @elauniesdream

“Make sure you tell him how you felt.”

The remark only received a giggle from the other party. “I’m not promising anything, Yuta. It will take time.”

Yuta took a final glance. There’s a hint of despair in the way he looked at her. “You packed everything?”

She nods. “I think so. Let me know if I left something. Well, that if you don’t mind. Else, you can throw them away.”

“Alright, I’ll let you know.” He smirked. There’s a pregnant pause before he continues. “I’ll see you when I see you, [Y/N]. Until then, please be well.”

Yuta could see she welled up, holding up her tears. He wished he could hug her and tell her that it will be fine, but that only contradicted the brave front he showed to her.

She finally waves her final goodbye, closing the door. It is a signal for Yuta to finally embrace his sadness. Legs gave in, he immediately crouched down, sighing.

“Damn, who would’ve thought I could fall for someone this much?” Brushing the hair that covers his forehead, he asked himself, with no one to answer.

Yuta walked to his bathroom, thinking that he would cool his head by taking a brisk shower. He took off his shirt, pausing in front of the sink before he entered the shower booth. He stared at his own reflection, blankly. No thoughts, head is empty. He just needs his time to process and to cope with his own heartbreak.

There are few objects that don't belong to him, and by then he noticed that she forgot to visit the bathroom when she cleared her stuff, leaving her toothbrush behind. He curled one side of his lips up, sighing regretfully before throwing the toothbrush to the trash bin nearby.

This is so I can forget about her faster.

Yuta taught to himself, before spotting another foreign item.

A pair of rose gold stud earrings. Yuta knows his pieces of jewelry because he never took off his. The simple design of the earrings is also a bit too plain for his liking, and the owner of them is no other than the person who just left this place.

He grabs it, about to throw them away. But hesitates, gripping the earrings inside his palm.

Yuta looks at the earring once more.

Maybe, just maybe, this is the only part of you that I could keep?

–

Days pass per normal for Yuta. Except that the people around him notice that he’s anything but it.

“You alright, bro?” Doyoung tapped his shoulder, waking Yuta from his daze.

“What do you mean?” Yuta leans to the wall, inhaling his IQOS.

“I don’t know man, you’re off these days.” Doyoung took a sip of his grapefruit drink. “It seems like you have something on your mind. Have you talked to [Y/N] about it?”

Ah, so she hasn’t told him.

Yuta thought to himself, not responding to Doyoung as he drew out a translucent smoke.

“She might not be the best at giving advice, cause even she had a hard time figuring out herself. But I promise she’s a good listener, I’m sure she'll be able to give you some sort of comfort.”

Yuta just nodded to his statement.

He nodded because he himself knew how comfortable it was to be around her.

–

Yuta holds grudges. It was hard for him to admit it at first, but eventually, he accepts the annoying part of his personality. Fast forward five months after she left, Yuta still refused to go out. This clearly weirded everyone out since Yuta is the social butterfly. For him to reject their offer to visit the bar after office makes the lines on their foreheads more apparent than ever.

Yuta just needs some time, alone. He doesn’t know for how long, but what he knows is that he’s just not in the mood to put on a fake happy smile when his own heart is like a shipwreck.

So he spent another night in at his apartment, opening a bottle of rye whiskey. Truthfully, Yuta prefers sweeter booze –something that is more fruity like his usual Cassis Orange. However these days, those cocktails couldn’t shred his woe. He needs something stronger. He needs to be able to feel the burning sensation on his chest, replacing the pain of his heartache.

He went off to flump into the leather couch, putting down the glass of whiskey. He grabs the remote, browsing through the Netflix catalog. He stops, at one move named Kimi no Na wa.

He probably already watched this for million times. He loves this movie. Not only because of the well-executed animation and storyline, but it also reminds him of home.

And it painfully reminds him of her too. How she loved anime, and how her eyes glimmered every time Yuta told her a fun fact about Japanese culture.

“Did you know there’s a trivia behind her name?”

“Who? Mitsuha?”

Yuta nods, “Her name means three leaves. Funnily enough, it started from her grandmother, Hitoha which means one leaf. And you guessed it, her mother’s name, Futaba, means two leaves and her little sister, Yotsuha, is four leaves.”

“Whoa!” She shrieked excitedly. “That’s cute!”

Yuta laughed at the sight of her getting excited over something simple like this. It’s nothing much for a Japanese man like him, but for her it’s something new and Yuta finds it very adorable.

If she was still here, he would cross his arm over her shoulder. Cuddling her.

But right now, all he could do is to rest his arm on the backrest of his couch. The only warmth that he could feel is from the whiskey.

Unable to focus on the movie, so he diverted his attention to see his phone.

Oh, how he regrets it.

He saw her social. She was with a group of people that Yuta knew from that party. But his finger reactively clicked on one of the tagged name’s profiles.

Just to see him posted a photo of her. It was a candid photo, the person captured in the picture seemingly asked the photographer to stop. Her hands were blurred because she attempted to cover her mouth.

But she wasn’t quick enough to stop the photographer from capturing her smile. A smile so bright Yuta knew he wasn’t able to create. A smile that Yuta definitely misses.

The agony he felt amplified once he read the capture below the photo.

“I was yours, before I knew; and you have always been mine too.”

Yuta rolled his tongue over his front teeth. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way, not when he is the one who let her go. But he is pissed, throwing his phone away.

He moves his palms to cover his eyes, resting his head. He lets out another sigh, but no matter how much he exhaled, no matter how much alcohol he drank, the rain cloud seems to follow him around.

“Fuck this shit.” He hummed to himself.

He took his phone again, this time opening a different app. It took him a bit longer this time, but at least whatever he was doing, managed to put a smile on Yuta’s face.

He then proceeds to dial a number.

“Hello, Doy? I’ll take a week off. I’m flying to Osaka tomorrow.”

–

“How could you come back home without noticing us?”

Yuta puts down his bag, worn out from the flight, “I can’t even visit my own home now, Nee-san?”

“What I meant was,” His sister crossed his arm. “Last time you visited Osaka, you’d stay at the hotel because you wouldn’t stay long. Mostly due to your business trip. What makes you suddenly miss home?”

“I just feel like taking some days off, Nee-san.” He replied without looking at this sister, busy unpacking his stuff. “Also, Imouto has been texting me, telling me to bring her some signed goods from TVXQ.”

“Well if you said so,” Her sister knows how stubborn Yuta is, so she decides that she won’t press him further. “Come down when you’re ready. If only you told us you were coming earlier, mom would’ve cooked us Nabe. But we don’t have the ingredients, so you have to settle with curry tonight.”

Yuta finally looked back to smile at his sister, “Curry sounds great, Nee-san.”

–

It’s great to be home, Yuta thought to himself.

The familiar road. People talking in his mother language. Food that is catered to fit his taste buds. He loves Korea, and everything it has to offer, but nothing could replace home.

“My, Yuta is that you?!” An elderly woman called for him, snapping him from his day daze.

“Oh, Baa-chan!” Yuta subconsciously lets out his signature radiant smile. “How are you? I hope your back is fine now.”

“Oh, you’re as sweet as I could remember, Yuta!” She giggled. “You never visit your home, this Baa-chan misses you a lot, you know? I don’t know how to use… what do they call those these days? Line?”

Yuta laughed. “Yes, Line, Baa-chan.”

“Right, I can’t contact you! You should come home more often. I could write you a letter but I don’t know your address in Korea.”

“I miss you too, Baa-chan. Sorry, I promise to visit again.”

Baa-chan sells taiyaki in his neighborhood. Yuta is her regular customer, and she has witnessed how much Yuta grew from a small boy who aspires to be an Ultraman to a successful businessman he is right now. Yuta settled on the bench in front of Baa-chan’s store, filling her with the missing information pieces where Yuta finally left home for his career.

“Now take this,” She offered him a bag of taiyakis.

“Oh, no Baa-chan. Let me pay,” He rustles his pant pocket, trying to find his wallet.

“My dear Yuta!” She pushes the paper bag to him, “This is a gift from me, as a thank you for visiting this old lady. Next time, bring your friend here so they can pay instead. Baa-chan wants to see your friends, I want to make sure they are good people.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. Baa-chan is always kind, and it touches his heart. Yuta treats her like she’s her own grandmother. “I’ll note that, Baa-chan.”

He waves goodbye to her and marches his way to a nearby park. The park used to be so big for the small Yuta. He used to think it would take forever to catch a ball that flies after his friend kicked it too high. But now that he’s a full-grown man, he even wonders how the hell he was able to play soccer with his friend in this field.

He sits down at the bench, taking a bite of the fresh taiyaki. Baa-chan’s taiyaki is the best. It might be a biased opinion, but every bite is like a memory lane for Yuta. The irreplaceable taste of childhood.

The dusk is near, and there is no child laughter at these hours since all of them have their curfews. With nothing to keep him entertained, he unlocked his phone, casually browsing through his social before pausing his munching at one post.

“Can’t believe this man asked me to spend the rest of my life with him while I’m about to throw the trash away. I hope your future daughter will experience a much more romantic proposal, you weirdo.”

Involuntarily the red bean paste from his bread squirted out, due to the fact Yuta unconsciously squeezed them. Was it out of anger? Out of disappointment? Or out of regret?

His blood is boiling, and with nobody around, nothing stops him. Yuta is usually calm, but right now he just wants to transfer the excessive anger somewhere. Heck, the tree next to him can be his punching bag.

My mom always told me to finish my meal so you’re not leaving until you eat everything.

But right now, Yuta is unable to take another bite. He even forced whatever he had left on his mouth down to his throat.

Why did I let you go?

He scoffed, mocking his own thought, “Damn, what a pathetic person you are, Yuta.”

Your first impression on Yuta is probably how strong his aura is. His gaze is sharp, complemented with a well-chiseled jawline. So you would never think that the same person has a sensitive soul. Ever since his trip to Japan, the Nakamato residence in Seoul is always decorated with fresh flowers, handpicked by Yuta himself. This is his way of finding peace. He always wanted to have a pet, but his busy schedule makes him unable to own one. Instead, he’s been paying more attention to greeneries in his home. He said it was a therapy for him, and having a living plant makes the place alive, so he claims.

The bell on the door jingles after Yuta pushes the door open, cueing the staff who were busy arranging a bouquet to greet him.

“Welcome to Paradise!”

Yuta nods at the staff, telling her to continue with her arrangement and let him browse the flower catalog by himself.

Soon after, the bell jingles once more —only to reveal a young man with a sparkly eyes.

“Sorry, __! Taeyong left his apron behind so I have to make a visit to Kitchen Beat first.”

The person at the counter chuckled, “Don’t sweat it, Mark. We’re not that busy today anyway.”

“Let me put my bag first, then I’ll help to cut the stems of the carnations—“ Mark’s eyes grow bigger once he sees the familiar figure. “Yuta-hyung? Ah, I mean, Sir!”

Yuta turned at the sound of his name. “Oh, if it isn’t Mark!”

“Didn’t expect you to come here, Sir.”

“You can talk to me comfortably, Mark. We’re no strangers.” Yuta smiles. “Fancy seeing you here, too. Are you part-timing here?”

Mark nods. “Other than my job as an English tutor, working here actually calms me down. Maybe the flower gives the peaceful atmosphere?”

Yuta hummed, agreeing with his statement.

“Also, I can rest a bit because working here is not as busy as working at a cafe.” Mark continues, “Though we’re going to be busy pretty soon since Jaehyun-hyung ordered so many orchids for his wedding. Man, not just any orchid! If only he knows how difficult it is to obtain—“

Mark stopped at the sight of Yuta’s awkward face.

“Shit, Mark, how could you forget that he was your Noona’s ex-lover.”

He whispered to himself, but the store was fairly quiet with only faint instrumental song in the background —enabling Yuta to listen to each of his words clearly.

Your noona.

“Mark, go change to your uniform.” A female voice breaks the tension, flinching Mark who reactively gives Yuta a deep bow afterward.

Yuta definitely needs time to process what just happened. Pressing his lips together while occasionally biting the skin.

“A cheerful young boy, isn’t he?”

Yuta woke up from his daydream following her calm voice. “Mark is energetic, and I love how positive his energy is. Though sometimes, that can cause him to be slightly dense, too.”

Yuta couldn’t help but to let a single soft chuckle.

“So please forgive him, yeah? I’m sorry I couldn’t help but to overheard your conversation. Don’t take it to the heart, Mark was probably too excited. He didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know. No offense is taken. I just need some time to digest it.”

“Take your time,” she continued with her bouquet, tying up the ribbon as the final touch. “Though, if I could suggest, I think our daffodils are very pretty today.”

“Daffodils?”

“Yes, the yellow ones on that corner,” she pointed at a bunch of yellow flowers. “I’ll help you with a bunch. It’s on a house, as an apology from making you uncomfortable just now. Are you going to put it on a vase like the usual or are you going to give it to someone?”

Yuta widened his eyes, quickly shook his head, “Oh please no need, I’m not offended by all means.”

“As the owner of this shop, I insist, Sir.”

Yuta hesitates, but eventually gives in. “The usual. Actually, a single bloom is fine. I would feel bad, you know, if you're going to give me a bunch. Business is still business after all.”

His remarks only caused the other party to scoff, “Our business is doing well, Sir. So please don’t fret on it. Anyway, it would mean a different thing if I don’t give you in a bunch.”

“Different thing?”

“Ah,” She closes her mouth with her hand. “Don’t mind too much on it.”

After spending the whole day outside, all Yuta needs is a refreshing shower to wash down his sweat. He placed his new floral arrangement on his dining table, before taking his shirt off when he walked towards the bathroom. He threw his shirt to the laundry bag, and unlocked his phone, ready to play his shower playlist.

Bunch of daffodils?

He suddenly remembered how the florist mentioned the different meaning of daffodils. He quickly changed the tab, typing the question on Google.

Smirk appeared on his face, after so many days shied away from the surface.

“Rebirth and new beginnings, huh?” He said to himself. “How cheeky.”

He puts down his phone on the countertop, resting his arms at the sink before looking at himself in the mirror.

Yuta is determined.

He picks up his phone once more, dialing a number.

“Doyoung, do you know the best hair salon here?”

A/N: We’re back with this!! I’m so so excited to continue this hehe~ To be honest... continuing this series gives me a lot of anxiety. What if the audience don’t like it? What if the one who loves Interlude won’t like my approach on continuing the story in Yuta’s POV? At some point it was difficult for me to write this, but as I persistently write this, it became more and more enjoyable and eventually those thoughts don’t appear as much!

Another thing to note, to prevent any confusion, the reader for Prelude will be ___ instead of the usual [Y/N]. [Y/N] belongs to Interlude! So think of her as another character for Prelude!

Also again, I’d like to remind you guys again since there’s only three additional songs, this would be a mini-series instead of a full series like Interlude. But hopefully, you would still give Prelude tons of love too!

#yuta scenarios #yutaxreader #yuta fic #yuta angst #neowritingsnet #yuta fluff #commoner!au #commoner!yuta #yutafluff #yuta #yuta scenario #fic yuta #angst yuta #prelude after story #nct scenarios #prelude #punch

33 notes · View notes

dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

Precious Friend

The beds were platforms attached to the walls that lifted up to an opening aptly called a coffin rack that served as under-bed storage. There were four beds in a room. Besides the coffin rack storage, there was one locker per occupant. That was all.

Aaron tried and failed to fit all his gear into a locker before giving it up and tossing it on top of his bed next to where his foot would be. “People live here for months? Jesus…” He muttered.

Brian held out his hands, “I have space in my locker, give it here.”

“Careful, my guns are in there.” Despite his words, he tossed his bag to him and hopped up to pull himself onto the top bunk.

“I know. That’s why I don’t want it getting tossed about if we hit rough seas.” He tucked the bag into the locker and shut it securely.

“I hope none of you get seasick. Masato peered down from his top bunk where he was surfing on his phone.

Rodney meanwhile stood in the doorway looking in despair and wondering if he was even short enough to fit into the flimsy blankets. This was a common issue. At six feet and four inches, he was too tall for a lot of things. He caught Masato’s smirk and inwardly grumbled that, for once, someone who could fit into a locker like him had the upper hand.

Masato turned back to his phone. “I’ve been doing some research into what the Lieutenant told us. Norma doesn’t really contradict anything that she said. She’s just… less conclusive about the actual existence of the dragons they spoke of. The lack of written record is a problem, but the rainbow serpent’s connection to alchemy is pretty solid.” He turned his phone to them. “The appearance of a serpent looped in a circle is common in Egyptian depictions of an afterlife, but it doesn’t have much context. Still, European alchemists adapted this symbol into their own writing.”

“So it had to mean something…” Aaron whispered, opening his phone as well.

“I’m going to bed.” Brian ducked into the small gap between the top and bottom beds and disappeared.

Aaron let out an awed sigh. “Wow… their definition of Speech Spirits is Voodoo… I wonder… I wonder if we’ll get to see something like that. Sounds spooky.”

He dipped his head down to peer at Brian. “You’re sure you’re okay with your lady out by herself with a bunch of a voodoo?”

Brian gave him an annoyed glare. “By their definition aren’t we also practicing voodoo when we use our soul skills?”

“Oh that’s true.”

Brian rolled over to face the wall.

“But you didn’t deny she’s your lady.”

“Shut up.”

---------------

Mr. Baldwin didn’t go with the rest of the students to the residential deck. He instead followed Dofi, the youngest of the quadruplets towards the Officer’s area on the ship. Dofi kept up the act, nodding dutifully at the sailors who had no idea he was masquerading as his brother.

“How long are you going to keep up this act?” He mumbled quietly.

“As long as I can!” Dofi flashed his brilliant teeth and chuckled. “After all, it’s not often I get to be captain.”

Mr. Baldwin raised his eyebrows. “Really? Somehow I doubt that. Switching identities would be an easy way to keep sailors on their toes at all times. I envy your ability to be in multiple places at once… so to speak.”

They came to an elevator. Dofi, scanned his ID and it opened and they stepped inside. Mr. Baldwin stifled a yawn. “Will you be joining us for our discussion?”

“Nah…” Dofi waved his hand. “Foli wanted to speak with you privately. And I have an assignment that just came up. We can have fun later!” He gave him a hard slap on the shoulder that nearly took his breath away.

The doors opened and there was Foli, grinning, bearing the Cassell College world tree logo on his chest. The two men both embraced each other rocking back and forth.

“It’s been too long. Too long, brother!” Foli growled happily. “Come in and sit down! We need to catch up!”

Foli ushered him into the room. It was centered by a large wood table and decorated with maps, globes, and had a view of the vast ocean. There was no wine or cigar, but a box of fine chocolate on the table.

Mr. Baldwin took a seat at the table and Foli joined him. “Wow, are these chocolates made by hand?”

“Of course, I’ve been saving them for this occasion.”

Together they reached in. The chocolate was velvet smooth, full of butter and had just the right bitterness, fruitiness and sweetness. Mr. Baldwin closed his eyes. “It’s just like what you brought with you to Cassell…”

“Yes…”

He looked at him. “How’s your father?”

Foli sighed. “Still unwell, we’re expecting his passing soon.”

Mr. Baldwin’s eyes filled with regret. “I’m sorry. I’ve dragged you away.”

Foli patted his hand to reassure him. “Our ancestors are never truly gone. His mind is resting in his body, waiting to be set free from its confines. He would never forgive me for missing out on this opportunity. You met with him before… yes? I was always curious. How did that go?”

“He didn’t tell you? Basically, he just wanted to congratulate me and give me some encouragement. Losing Professor Schneider was very difficult. Not just his death but the pressure of the expectations.” Unable to resist, Mr. Baldwin accepted another chocolate from the box.

“In the end, his choice was the correct one.” Foli spoke reassuringly to him. “Not only your training and education, but the power of your Soul Skill is undeniable.”

Mr. Baldwin grimaced. “I can barely control it. I’m no Anjou.”

“Such humility… it’s born of wisdom. It will keep you safe.”

“Keep me safe?” Mr. Baldwin chuckled with surprise. “I don’t recall safety being mentioned in this job description. But you do have a point… Time Zero, when it comes to applications on the battlefield…” He ducked his head and huffed. “It’s a bit unfair!”

“Just a bit!” Foli leaned against the table with one arm. “You’re not tired?”

“I am. But I can’t sleep.” He turned his eyes to the window. “The moon’s too bright tonight. And it’s nice to come here and chat.”

“How like you.” Foli said, delighted. “Then you’re fine with chatting with me?”

Mr. Baldwin gave him a small smile. “It would be an honor to chat with such a precious friend as you. The only thing lacking is some champagne.”

“I hope you don’t mind some tea instead? There’s a kettle.” Foli stood up and moved to a cabinet. Mr. Baldwin watched as he poured the tea and brought it back over to the table.

“What are we drinking tonight?”

“Just regular black.”

Mr. Baldwin began to chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”

He took a deep breath of the tea wafting into his nose and sat back in his chair. “When I visited the Italian branch to meet with Commissioner Gattuso they served me some tea called “Imperial Red” from China. It’s supposedly over a million dollars a pound.”

“Oh really?” Foli blew over his cup.

Mr. Baldwin gave him a fond smile. “I’ve gotta say. I like regular black better.”

Foli raised it in a small toast. “Only the best.”

They touched their cups together. Mr. Baldwin allowed himself to relax, letting the steam warm his face. “I don’t have many people in this business who understand me as much as you do. I miss the days in the dorm where we used to stay up and talk all night.”

“Yes… so do I. It’s been too long since we’ve had tea together.” Foli’s eyes fell to his cup. “But… you would do most of the talking!”

“I had a lot to say! Especially right before our graduation, remember? I had to go away to run the Executive Branch, and you were chosen by the elders to lead as well.”

“Is that the last time? I can’t quite remember.” Foli scratched his head.

“You wouldn’t. We drank a lot more than tea.” Mr. Baldwin lowered his voice. “You got piss drunk. No wonder you don’t remember.”

“Oh…” Foli looked bashful. “Well, you understand… alcohol has never passed my lips since.”

“It’s a cruel tradition. You can’t even spike a little brandy to help you relax without losing your job?”

“It’s just the way it is, my friend.”

Mr. Baldwin started to laugh again. “I was frantic trying to dry you out before you had to report to your family.”

Foli looked mournful. “You did?”

“Seems like you don’t remember that either.”

“Well your memory has always been better than mine!” Foli replied. “Always has been. After all, you didn’t even confuse me with my brother! To be frank… it was a relief that you still remember.”

Mr. Baldwin reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gold medallion. It was carved with a skull ringed by twining vines. “Which reminds me, I think this belongs to you.”

Foli gasped, inhaling the tea he had just sipped. He covered his mouth, choking. “Where did you get that?” He asked around the coughs.

“You don’t remember but you left it in my room all those years ago. I couldn’t give it back to you without revealing to your family that you got drunk. So I took the opportunity to return it today.”

Foli reverentially took the medallion, speechless. “These relics are priceless. I assumed it was stolen from me.” He muttered quietly. His heart slammed in his chest as he tilted the heavy metal in his hand, watching the light shimmer across it.

“No one’s seen it but you and I.” Mr. Baldwin watched his friend’s reaction feeling deeply satisfied. “I’m the head of the Executive Branch. You will soon be one of the spearheads of the West Africa Branch. With Anjou, the relationship was wary. I hope to change that. Starting tonight.”

Foli opened his mouth to speak, eyes still glued to the medallion. But no words came out. He finally looked up at him. “Were it just up to me, I would absolutely accept full cooperation with Cassell. But these heavy matters? They’re left up to the Elder Council. That said, I will strongly convey your trustworthiness.”

He placed the medallion in his pocket. “Grant. People said that you changed after you were appointed, but you’re still the same person.”

“I changed only on the outside. I had to. Or else the Executive Branch might have fractured.”

Foli nodded. “I remember when we first met. I was full of many different worries. I was… not prepared to make friends, but to maintain our secrets to maintain our superiority over the European Hybrids. At least, what I perceived to be superiority.”

Grant poured himself another cup. “I remember too. You were determined to show us up. Not that I blame you. The rest of our classmates wanted to teach you rather than the other way around.”

“I was shocked when all you asked were questions.”

Grant sipped. “That you didn’t want to answer.’

“And I asked, ‘why do you want to know?’ What did you say to me back then?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here? To teach us?” Grant replied.

“Yes that’s it. Your memory never fails!” He laughed. “Both Cassell and the West Africans have viewed each other with suspicion. Even now… it’s a bad habit.” Foli drummed his fingers on the table.

“One can’t be too careful.” Grant shrugged. “Trust is earned gradually.”

His expression turned grim. “You’re too kind. I just hope that trust gets its chance to grow and is not choked out by stubbornness and pride.”

Grant glanced at him. “Is there something wrong?”

Foli smiled again. “Ah… I believe it’s late. The moon is making me sentimental! But a cloud just covered it and broke the spell. We should get our rest.”

Together, they stood up. “Thanks for chatting with me. I hope we get this opportunity again… sooner this time.”

Together they walked out of the main meeting room, when they walked, it was hand in hand, leaving the cups steaming on the table.

#Class of 2032 #Dragon Raja #Fanfiction

3 notes · View notes

geeky-introvert · 4 years

Text

I Wish I Could Quit You . Modern Hvitserk X Divorced OC

Summary: Erica left her husband, Hvitserk, while pregnant after having enough of putting up with his cheating habits. A couple of years pass and they have shared custody over their son. He is with her parents for the weekend and decides to go out with a friend, but of course her past had to follow ….One-shot.

Authors note: This was part from a short request I did a long time ago but can’t find it, don’t know if it’s been removed or just lost for good. Anyway I had the draft saved and turned it into something bigger. This might turn into a two part story but I’ll see what people think of this first. Enjoy!

Word count: 2694

Warning: Angst, drinking, cheating and smut.

Tag list: @lisinfleur @mdlady @didiintheblog @alicedopey @rekdreams247 @mblaqgi @oddsnendsfanfics @aphnxrising @happydaysandersen @therealcalicali @naaladareia @inforapound @captstefanbrandt @waiting4inspiration @tabalugax @p8tn0lish @igetcarriedawaywithyou @laketaj24 @darlingp @tephi101 @youbloodymadgenius @lordsexmachine @wonderlandofsu @alwaysbenhardysgirl @sparklemichele @hecohansen31 @readsalot73

If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list let me know please.

It was a family dinner that Aslaug had been planning for months. Erica sat and waited at the table for her husband to arrive. She had caught a taxi here since he sent her a text saying he was held up at work and that he’ll meet her there. Hours later and he was still late. Then finally, he arrived, looking rushed and out of breath as he finally joined her at the table.

“Why are you so late?” She was annoyed and disappointed. It was supposed to be a nice evening dinner with his family and he showed up late.

“I’m sorry babe, work is crazy. I promise to make it up to you later.” He smiled before kissing her and acted as if everything was fine. No, it wasn’t fine, not for a long while now.

At that moment nothing mattered anymore. Erica licked up her lips to taste the cherry gloss given from him and got a good sniff from his fruity perfume. He was with her again, Margrethe. Looking at Ubbe she saw the space next to him was empty as well and it was no surprise to her that Margrethe turned up just five minutes later acting innocent and kissed her husband before sitting down beside him.

It wasn’t the first time and she forgave him before but tonight was the last time. She couldn’t continue doing it anymore, pretending to be happy when deep down she was breaking. Erica loved Hvitserk, but he tossed her around like a used rag and not giving two shits about her feelings anymore. All the promises he made he has broken.

As the evening went on she sat silently in her chair and poked at her food. A few people had noticed her mood but didn’t question, not wanting to poke to bear. Hvitserk had tried holding her hand under the table but she moved it out of his grasp. She simply didn’t want to be here anymore, she had enough of his bull shit.

“Erica, what’s wrong with you tonight?” Hvitserk had the nerve to ask, loud enough for others to hear and gaining their attention. He wanted to make a scene, so be it.

“I can’t do this anymore.” She won’t let him walk all over her anymore.

“What are you talking about?”

“Tell me, how was work? Or should I say Margrethe’s cunt?” Nothing could be done to take it back, it was out and everyone heard her.

Hvitserk said nothing at first. No one dared to say anything. All Aslaug wanted was a nice evening with the family and now she was going to ruin that, but she needed to do this in front of everyone, so they knew how much of a shitty husband he was. Ubbe was aware of what was going on but never said or did anything to stop it was his doing as well. Margrethe shifted in her seat feeling uncomfortable, and so she should.

“I-I….Erica-”

“Don’t bother explaining yourself.” She felt my eyes sting with tears and looked up to see everyone staring at her. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ve ruined this dinner, haven’t I? Well, how about some good news?” She raised her glass of water in a mocking way and put on a fake smile for them. “I’m pregnant.”

Erica then threw her drink into Hvitserk’s face and stormed out the home without even a goodbye to anyone or giving Hvitserk a chance to react to the sudden news. She hailed a cab and took it back to their shared place where she packed up as much of her things and called her mother to ask if she could stay at her place for a bit. She took the ring off and left it on the counter before heading out of the life she thought would be a dream come true. She was wrong. All she had was yourself and the child growing in her.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Of course it didn’t take long for Hvitserk to track her down but she was done, growing tired of his cheating and lying behavior. She filed for divorce not long after and he knew there was nothing he could do to talk her out of it, but he still wanted shared custody of your child.

She couldn’t prevent that and so agreed.

Nine months later and she gave birth to a healthy boy, naming him Olaf. Her mother was in the room with her, and Hvitserk, because he was the father. Least he wanted to be there as a father, too bad not as a husband.

Erica managed to save enough to get her own place, despite the Lothbrok’s trying to give her money through checks she tore them up, not wanting their money. She had nothing against them but wanted to be independent for her son. Hvitserk did the right thing and gave child support, and that was all she would accept.

It’s been four years now since she divorced Hvitserk. Living as a single mother had honestly been a weight off her shoulder, not having to worry about a husband brought some relief even though she still had to deal with Hvitserk, but she always will since he was the father of their son.

He remarried. A woman named Thora who seemed good for him. She wasn’t happy for him though, she didn’t care what went on in his life or what he did. If he was happy that was all that mattered. Least she was nice to their son though.

As much as she loved being a mother she also missed the freedom. Her parents noticed and offered to take care of Olaf so she could have a night to just do that. A little bird must’ve whispered to her best friend because she was eager to take her out clubbing. Not what she had on mind, she was never to party type, but it was just once and decided to go along.

Her best friend, Elizabeth, or Lizzie as she liked best, had been amazing support for her over the years with her son. They’ve known each other since high school, so they were close.

After leaving Olaf with her parents they then went out hitting the club together. It was loud and crowded but she had a drink and a shot to relax her.

“You know what?” Lizzie shouted over the music. “We need to find you a man!”

“I don’t need a man in my life!” Erica smiled, shaking her head.

“Oh? So a woman?” This caused her to laugh.

“I don’t need anyone, I’m happy being single.”

Coming outside onto the balcony for some fresh air they talked for a little longer, just catching up, when Lizzie looked over her shoulder and cursed. “For fuck sake.”

Erica narrowed her brows before turning around herself. It was Hvitserk.

“Hey Erica.” He was already so close, no doubt already noticing her before.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Lizzie was very protective of her friend as she stood by her side, hand over hip as she glared at the man who broke her friend’s heart.

“I’m with my brothers.” He shrugged. “It’s not like I’m not allowed here.”

“Well, go back to your brothers.” Lizzie then linked her arm around Erica’s to lead her away but he simply stopped them. Erica didn’t know what to say to him, all she wanted was a fun night, and now he was there, the last person she wanted to see.

“Where’s Olaf?” The tone in his voice made her glare a little.

“Oh, he’s at the strip club across the street. The ladies there will take very good care of him.” Erica found her voice making Lizzie snicker behind her drink. Seeing that Hvitserk was being serious she rolled her eyes then. “He’s staying with my parents tonight. Did you think I was going to leave him home by himself?”

“I didn’t mean that, I’m just curious.”

“I’m sure.” Erica wanted to leave him now.

“Alright, great chat!” Lizzie jumped in again. “Perhaps you should join your brothers again, or perhaps do what you do best and bury your cock in Margrethe, or your new wife, Tora? Whatever her name is, just leave Erica alone.”

She then pulled her away, leaving Hvitserk standing there as they went back in.

“I need a fucking drink.” Erica just wanted to have fun, to let herself go and enjoy the night.

That’s exactly what she did, they both did and ended up pretty drunk together.

Erica felt warm and bubbly as she danced in the middle of the gathered crowds, swaying her hips with the beat of the music and just simply enjoying herself. Lizzie was with her being distracted by a guy who approached her and slowly disappeared in the crowds. Erica didn’t realise this until it was too late and she found herself alone.

She wasn’t surprised, her friend was a party animal and loved sex, but she was a little pissed she would ditch her like that. It was then she decided that she had enough of the club. As fun as it was, she was ready for bed.

However she suddenly felt an arm around her waist and tried to move out from whoever had her. It was a man but she didn’t even know him. She tried pushing him away but he wouldn’t have it and only held her tighter.

But then the grip was gone and out in a blur was Hvitserk as he punched the man, pushing him onto the floor before turning to her and helping her up, taking her out the club.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Right then the shots were settled in her head and everything was a buzz. It had been a while since she’s gone out drinking, she was never a heavy drinker anyway.

Hvitserk hailed a cab and took her home where he helped her inside and into her bedroom.

“I saw Lizzie leave the club with another man.” He suddenly spat. “Some fucking friend she is.”

Erica was pretty drunk but now she was just so tired and felt like sleeping. His words just went in one ear and out the other, there was no care about her friend.

Laying on the bed Hvitserk helped take her shoes off and even brought her some water and snacks on her beside. He needed to make sure she was alright. Seeing her tonight brought old memories back. Yes, he saw her all the time, but it was different this time.

“Do you need anything else?” He asked, caressing his hand over her head.

“No…no.” She sighed. “You didn’t need to bring me home.”

“Yes, I did. I wasn’t just going to leave you like that.” He was so protective.

Sitting up in the bed now she stared into his eyes, searching through them.

“Thank you. I guess I would’ve been in trouble if you didn’t help me.”

“That guy was a dick, got what he deserved.”

Erica didn’t know what she was thinking anymore, but suddenly she leaned forward and kissed him. It was quick before he moved away, looking like he was struggling.

“Erica, you’re drunk…”

“I don’t care.” She kissed him again and this time he fell apart against the heated kiss. Yes, they both knew this shouldn’t happen and yet it was. Erica knew she was drunk but she was also aware of what she was doing. She just needed one night to not care, just once.

She won’t admit it but she missed him, so much. Divorcing him was not an easy choice but it had to happen, she was tired of getting hurt over again by him. Now, she needed to feel him again, she ached for him for too long.

Hvitserk missed her too, he still loved her. When he met Thora he thought he could start over and love another. Yes, he loved Thora, but there will always be a part of him that will love Erica, always, no matter what.

They helped each other remove their clothes while sharing the passionate kiss, touching their naked bodies and laying on the bed together as she reached down to stroke his already throbbing cock. It never took much for him, she remembered this.

He kissed against her neck, trailing over her breasts and lower between her legs where his warm tongue invaded her dripping core making her hips arch up.

Only he could ever make her feel like this. Since divorcing him there hasn’t been anyone else having no interest. Perhaps tonight she could’ve with another, but with Hvitserk wasn’t something she imagined how the evening would turn out.

These thoughts didn’t linger though and just fell in the moment with him, moaning in delight as her fingers tugged at his grown out hair.

Hvitserk lapped eagerly at her sweet nectar, moaning against her. It had been so long and he missed her sweet taste as he eagerly took in as much as he could from her.

After a time he crawled back over her naked body, kissing her before filling her aching depths with his throbbing cock. She moaned lowly, her legs wrapping around his hips as he set a firm pace, not holding back while rocking her body against the bed.

His grunts of pleasure sounded against her neck as her own against his. It had been too long since she’s had a cock in her, she forgot what it felt like and now she wanted more of it.

“Hvitserk.” His name moaned from her lips, his pace becoming more firmer as his hips slapped against her own over again. “Shit, fuck!”

“Fuck! Too soon!” He held back but she just wanted this and quickly let herself go, clenching tightly around his throbbing cock and bringing him over the edge as well.

It was pretty fast but she didn’t care as she was still very satisfied with his seed filling her. Suddenly she blacked out, falling asleep with him on top of her sweaty body.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The next morning Erica woke up rather early feeling a little hung over. Right away she knew what happened and wished she didn’t dig up something buried, but it was too late now.

Leaving him to sleep she showered and made herself some coffee with some pain killers, not the best mixture but it’s what she wanted. Sitting at the table she drank her coffee as she thought over everything that happened. Looking at her phone she saw Lizzie hadn’t tried to ring her yet. She’ll be having a word with her afterwards.

Then Hvitserk appeared, dressed again and looked over at her at the table.

“Morning.” He said very casually. This was a little awkward.

“Morning.” She said back softly. “I would offer you coffee but….”

“Yeah, I get it.” He didn’t need her to explain. What happened last night was both right and wrong. Despite their feelings, they were divorced and he was married.

She walked him to the door then and he stood out the front before turning to her, looking like he wanted to say so much, just like she wanted to. But that will only dig up more problems.

“Erica….” He licked his lips softly, thinking over his words for a moment. “I’m sorry, for everything. I fucked up our marriage and I’ll carry that regret to my grave. But you’ve given me a beautiful son. I just…I wish….”

“I know.” She whispered as her eyes teared up a little. “It can’t happen again, you’re married now. Thora doesn’t deserve that.”

Nodding he understood and leaned forward quickly to kiss her forehead before hurrying off in the taxi that waited for him. Closing the door she pressed her back against it and slid down to the floor, letting out a soft whimper as her emotions rolled out from her.

As much as she wanted to forget it, she already missed his touch, his smell, his voice, everything about him. Old feelings were back and she wanted to bury it all over again.

What a fucked up position she was in.

#vikings #hvitserk #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk x oc #hvitserk imagine #hvitserk x margrethe #ubbe x margrethe #modern #divorced #angst #smut #drinking #cheating #fandom #fanfiction

105 notes · View notes

allie1804-fan · 3 years

Text

Malaise (Chapter 4 - A Fresh Start)

Chapter 1, 2 , 3

The new film started shooting a week later in Culver city. The session with Tara had revitalised him and he’d started to take a morning swim or do a gym session every day again. A sense of equilibrium began to return.

He was both actor and a producer on this film and would be very involved in all aspects of the production. On the first day, cast and crew were introduced and Keanu was quickly struck by the cinematographer Celia, a raven haired beauty of 45. As work got rolling, they clicked immediately, agreeing on the angles and frames for shots and not always in synch with the director which caused some friction. They were like a mini team of their own and would often stay late, talking about the next day’s frames.

Celia had been divorced for about a year. She had 2 kids but they were in their late teens so she was a fairly free agent and was finally ready to get out there again. She knew from industry gossip of Keanu’s reputation as a bit of a player and she found him fun and very attractive. A fling with a sexy movie star would be just the ticket – fun, flirtation, fucking – and she got the feeling the attraction was mutual. One night when they were on set again late and alone, she took a chance and invited him to grab a bite with her.

His immediate response was defensive

“Look just for the avoidance of doubt, I’m not looking for….”

“Me neither Keanu” she jumped in “this is just a bite to eat but if it were to turn into anything more, rest assured that I’m not looking for anything heavy or committed, just a bit of fun. I don’t bite – well not if you don’t want me to!”

“OK, let’s go!” he grinned and took her hand.

They found a Chinese around the corner from the studios and he found her very alluring and sexy as hell nibbling delicately on ribs and biting into her wantons.

They’d talked and laughed on set but in this more relaxed setting they really laughed. They had co-stars and directors in common with tales they could share from their different movies. Time flew and they were tempted to get a second bottle of wine but they were back on set in 8 hours so parted ways that first night with a quick hug good bye.

After that they got into a little pattern of eating at the same Chinese when there were late nights which was a couple of times a week. Celia was merely flirty at first but a couple of weeks in, as they stood by her car one Friday evening saying goodbye, she took the bull by the horns and opted for being totally direct.

“Keanu, can I ask you something?”

“Yes sure”

“Are you horny?”

“What!?”

“I said, are you horny? Because I am, horny I mean and needy and I like you, I find you very attractive and if you were willing …. Like I said before, I’m not looking for anything serious or ……”

Keanu didn’t let her finish, crashing his lips to hers, eyes twinkling as he pulled back.

“Can I take that as a yes then?”

“Yes! your place or mine?”

“Yours, my kids are home so I’d rather tell them I’m staying at a friends in town then bring a man home”

“Alright then, OK to follow me?”

She got in her car and followed him on his bike up into the hills and the Birds streets to his home. He opened the garage and they both parked in there and he locked up for the night.

“I’ll give you the tour in the morning, show you the view” he said waving vaguely at the patio doors “want some wine?”

“Yes! Now I’ve gone and started this, I need some Dutch courage” she giggled nervously.

He took her hand and pulled her to the kitchen and they chose a fruity red. Glasses poured, he put his arms around her waist and held her gaze.

“I’ll look after you, I promise, you can tell me anything you don’t like and I’ll stop”

He bent his head to nibble her neck and she sucked her breath in.

“Stop?”

“No, don’t stop, it’s just, you know been a while” she shuddered as he bent once more to kiss the soft skin behind her ear making her groan. Pulling away, he took her hand again and handed her a glass.

“Come with me”

They walked down a long corridor to the other end of the house and his bedroom. Luckily it had been housekeeper day that day and so the room was tidy and there were fresh sheets on the bed. The colour scheme was teal, grey and cream – manly but with some warmth too. They sat and had a sip of wine and he asked her if there was anything she wanted to tell him right away that she didn’t like and whether he needed a condom. He’d had a medical before the shoot including tests for sexually transmitted diseases and covid so he knew he was clean. She had an IUD and had not had sex since her divorce so they were comfortable to go ahead with no condom.

“lucky me” he grinned taking her wine glass and setting it on the dresser.

He stood and appraised her for a moment. She was wearing jeans and a simple v-neck cashmere sweater which hung alluringly over her full breasts.

“you really are a very sexy lady”

She laughed and blushed

“I’m just in jeans and a jumper” she protested.

“all the more alluring” he mumbled, grabbing hold of the hem of her jumper and encouraging her to let him lift it over her head and take it off.

She mirrored his actions, quickly pulling his Arch t shirt up and off and running her fingers over his pecs and down to his scar which she traced with her finger tips before palming his erection through his jeans.

That sent him into action mode and he pulled her on top of him on the bed, beginning a passionate kiss which they barely broke as they tugged and pulled at buttons, zippers and clasps and wriggled out of their clothes.

He was a little worried when he felt her tight tunnel with his fingers and took his time to make sure she was wet and ready for him before he entered her, going slowly and looking into her eyes to make sure there were no signs of pain.

“OK? He said stroking her face with the back of his fingers.

She nodded, biting her lip as the burning of his entry began to recede “like I said, it’s been a while, just take it slow for a bit”

“My pleasure” he smiled before kissing her again and pushing in just a little more until he was pushing up against her cervix. Then he pulled out, almost all the way and moved his hips slightly to change the angle.

“better?”

All she could do was moan low in her throat and push her hips up to pull him in further.

The build-up was long, slow and relentless as Keanu pulled out and went back in at the same slow pace over and over until she was wailing with pleasure.

“Harder, please” she whispered, wrapping legs around him “and faster ….. please!”

He grinned.

“anything you say maam, anything you say” He rose up on extended arms and started to pound into her. By now she was wet and wide open to him, no longer feeling any pain, just blinding need. He could feel himself getting stiffer and close to bursting and slowed slightly, dropping down to kiss her and slip his hands underneath, lifting her up so his pubic bone would press into her clit with each thrust. Deep inside she could feel an amazing buzzing sensation which increased along with the extra external stimulation and pressure.

She pulled her lips away briefly to express her incredulity

“Oh good God!”

She kissed him again as her orgasm hit and then her head fell back as bliss overtook her. The rhythmic pulsing in her pussy pushed him over the edge too and his eyes squeezed shut as he shot his warm come inside. Finally his head dropped onto her shoulder, a satisfied moan passing his lips.

“fuck that was ….. ” there were no words

“mmmmm” she couldn’t say anything either.

Inexplicably tears sprang to her eyes. It was the first orgasm she’d had (other than by her own hand) in about a year. It was pretty overwhelming.

He smiled and called her on it, teasing her about her emotion

“Hey little miss just for fun, what are the tears for?”

“Hey, give a girl a break - I thought I might have shut up shop for good you know and here I am snagging myself a movie star – I’m justified in being overwhelmed!” she teased back.

“Touche” he giggled.

“I, errr that was pretty intense though, for me too, just so you know”

“I’m glad” she said softly, not wanting to get too slushy but still feeling warm, fuzzy and happy, endorphins running through her body.

He got up and went to pee, bringing their wine back to the bed afterwards. He was utterly unselfconscious walking around naked.

“Do you want a t shirt to wear tonight?”

“No, I’m OK if you are with me being naked”

“is the pope Catholic?” he joked

“Is Luxembourg small” she joined in

“and do bears sha la la la!” he finished

They laughed together and she was glad to return to the light-hearted back and forth like they shared on set. The emotion moments before had rather taken her aback.

When the wine was finished, they were relaxed and sleepy. He turned the light off and she turned away, letting him wrap his arm around her, cupping her right breast gently in his big palm. She was the first woman to have stayed over with him after sex in over a year.

@penwieldingdreamer @fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithkeanu @ladyreapermc @witty-wallflower @gatsbynouvel @bitchyslut99 @keanureevesisbae @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @fics-not-tragedies @ficsnroses @kindainlovewithkeanu @paperplanesandwallflowers

#keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu #Keanu Reeves #keanu reeves ofc

3 notes · View notes

poppibranchlover · 4 years

Text

Nine Lives, One Fight - The Final Chapter: Part 34

The story: Deep in the forest of Troll Town, there lies a mysterious tiny purple mushroom that has a secret magical ability. King Peppy calls this mushroom forbidden for all Trolls to go near it. One day, while Branch is out in the woods doing his survival research studying, he encounters it and, not knowing it is a regular mushroom, decides to harvest it and bring it home. But in the next morning, its magic effects transform him into a small blue cat! After being sent to the animal pound, his girlfriend, Poppy, finds him and decides to adopt him, although not recognizing it is Branch. Desperate to finish his research project due for a special event invented by Poppy, Branch is forced to learn how to behave like a pet cat and must figure out what caused him to become one.

You already seen what had happened in Part 33. Now get ready for the grand finale of the story - Part 34!:

A day has passed since Branch had transformed back into a Troll, and life begins to resume normally for him. For now, he was busy doing his usual job; collecting sticks around the village to bring back to his bunker. As he walked past the crowd of Trolls, he greeted them, and they all greeted back, happy to see their beloved village grump doing his business once again.

Branch took a deep breath to admire the fresh air. “Ahhh…what a good day to walk around the village again,” he said, smiling happily.

As he walked, a familiar building with a smiling carrot caught his eye. He took a few moments to recognize it. One glance confirmed that it was Tommy’s carrot restaurant!

Branch gazed down at the restaurant door and saw his best friend cradling a bunch of carrots and surrounded by three baby rabbits. “Wiggles!” he called out to him by his bunny nickname.

Tommy saw him approaching the restaurant and waved back at him “Hi, Branch!” he said.

Branch ran and gave him a big hug. “Hey, man!” he said, shaking hands with him. “I came to see what you’re doing! So your restaurant’s back in business, huh?” He looked up at his newly-reopened carrot restaurant. It was even better than before!

“Yes, of course!” Tommy said, nodding. “I got my job back after the spell reverted, and since I want a place for my kids to stay, I let them in here, all warm and cozy.”

He started petting the little bunnies near his feet. Branch knelt down and patted their tiny heads as well. “It’s so good to see you guys again!” he said. “Now they can live with you forever since you raised them!”

“Yeah, you’re darn truly right!” Tommy agreed in his new accent. He bumped fists with Branch, like they did before when they were animals.

It was a warm and fuzzy moment to be with his best friend he had ever known, until Branch began to think what he wanted to say to him. He sighed as his hands clutched tightly to his bundle of sticks. “You know, after all we’ve been through, I just want to ask you regarding our friendship,” he told Tommy. “Is this okay for you that I’ll be your best friend?”

Tommy laughed. “Oh, you stop being so hard on yourself, kid. You’re being naïve! Times have changed, and we go to our usual business! But of course, we’re friends to the end!”

He put his hand to Branch’s shoulder, smiling. Touched, he smiled back as well, glad to accept this Troll as one of his friends.

A baby rabbit tried reaching for a carrot in Tommy’s arms. “Uh, I could use some help here, kid!” he said.

Branch took a carrot from Tommy’s hand and offered it to the little rabbit, and the critter began chewing on it.

“So, how long you’ve started a business of your own?” Branch asked as he fed the baby rabbit.

“I don’t know...a couple years,” Tommy replied, matching his tone. “I didn’t want to hide in a burrow waiting for my life to change. After you found that magical mushroom, you did helped me along the way.”

“Hmmm, yeah,” Branch said, looking over at Tommy. “For your information, you’ve handled this farming business better than I can with my survival skills.”

“Well, you’d be surprised,” Tommy said with a smile. “I guess we know that we’re different yet we can change our own perspectives. It’s nature.”

“Really, huh?” Branch asked, raising his eyebrow. “I never thought of that.” After the baby rabbit finished eating up her carrot, she jumped into his arms.

“Ah, kid. You’re selling yourself short.” Tommy patted his tiny rabbits and offers them more carrots to eat. Then he turned to Branch and began to say what came out in his mind. “I think that you’d make a perfect invention for Poppy’s next Show-and-Tell party tomorrow.”

“What?” Branch asked, shocked. His jaw dropped when he heard these words. “But I thought it’s just one party few days ago! She’s making another one…for me?”

“According to her, it’s dedicated to you!” Tommy said, patting him on the back. “After the incident where we became cat and bunny, I was hoping the Queen would give you another chance to get on stage!”

Branch just stood there, still shocked at these exciting news. He couldn’t believe Poppy is setting up another Show-and-Tell festival, and it would be made specially for him! When he was a cat at the time the festival began, it was a complete disaster. Now that Branch is a Troll again, the party will be a success once more if he had come up there.

“Besides, she did put you back in the list,” Tommy added. “So what do you say, kid? Ready to go up on stage for one last time?”

Branch quickly began to think for a moment, rubbing his chin with his finger. “Hmmmm…so Poppy is making another Show-and-Tell festival and it will be specially made for me,” he said with resolve. “What should I be inventing?”

As a survivalist, Branch is a great expert on inventions. Soon, another brilliant idea had struck him, and his eyes widened with determination.

“Oooh! I know what I can make!” he said proudly. “This time, my effort will be perfect!”

Then he leaned in closer to Tommy and whispered his idea incoherently into his ear. All he was whispering was, “I will make a…and it will be different than before…”

Tommy leaned forward, attempting to listen to every word he was saying. “Huh? What you saying, kid? What is your idea?”

He didn’t understand what this idea had meant, but Branch will be sure that this will settle the entire festival quite well.

Moments later, Branch went back home, with the idea still in his head. With sheer confidence, he whipped out his tools and began to build his newest invention.

Hammering, painting and using as many tools as he can, Branch worked so hard this evening to come up with an invention that will truly surprise the Trolls in the festival. For the finishing touches, he covered his face with a welding mask and used a blowtorch to weld some pieces of metal together.

After he was done, Branch took a few moments to admire his work. He stretched his measuring tape to ensure the perfect size of his invention. He was certain that he will be declared first place as soon as he finished some preparations.

“I won’t let you down this time, Poppy,” he said under his breath, ready for the main event tomorrow.

The next day, the second Show-and-Tell festival had finally begun. After the rest of the Trolls signed up to go on stage already presented their projects, it was now Branch’s turn. Poppy skipped her way to the stage and held up her microphone to address the crowd.

“Drumroll please…” she announced as drums played in the corner. “Here comes the final contestant! Our beloved village grump…Branch!”

As the Trolls cheered, Branch pushed a giant object that is covered with a big red cloth on the stage.

Poppy is surprised at this enormous material he brought out. “Whoa! And it looks like Branch’s project is something HUGE!!!” she gushed. “Something very different entirely!”

Branch took out the red cover, revealing a giant metallic machine! “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you…my homemade Fruit-Presser 2.0!” he announced confidently.

The Trolls cheered excitedly as Branch proceeded to explain about his invention. “As you all know, I made this invention as a test to ensure proper nutrition, so any of you can use it whatever you want!”

He pointed out to every part of the Fruit-Presser, explaining how it works. Then he pulled out a cup from his hair. “With this, you can make delicious fruit punches, juices, smoothies and milkshakes out of this machine! Let’s test this baby out!”

Branch started pouring some berries into a funnel and pushed a button on the machine. It began to churn as the berries got sucked into the hole of the funnel. As the fruits were compressed by the mechanical supports of the Fruit-Presser, liquid began to spin around in the tank. Poppy and the audience watched as fruity liquid dispensed out of the machine and poured into Branch’s cup. He pushed a button to turn it off, and started drinking the fruit juice.

After he finished testing his project out, Branch turned to the crowd. “Don’t just sit there and eat lots of sugar,” he said. “Just try it in my heavily-fortified bunker for free!”

Poppy took a moment to admire his project. Then, with an excited squeal, she stepped forward. “Would you look at that? Branch’s speech and project is 10 out of 10 excellent! He is declared a winner!”

Branch was astonished. “What?! Really?!” he asked. “I AM A WINNER?!” He couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing.

Poppy smiled at him and held up a shiny gold medal. “Congratulations, Branch!” she announced. “You deserve a 1st place medal and you get to be the co-leader of Troll Village from now on!”

Branch gasped, overwhelmed with intense excitement. He took the medal from Poppy’s hands and placed it around his neck. “YEAH!!! WOOO-HOOOOO!!!” he cheered happily, accepting the reward while jumping up and pumping the air with a victory fist.

Poppy held his hands, grinning. “We are all so proud of you, Branch!” she told him.

Just then, everyone starts to cheer very loud that Branch is now a first place winner in the Show-and-Tell festival. “YAAAAAAY!!! HOORAY FOR BRANCH AND HIS AMAZING FRUIT-PRESSER PROJECT!!!”

Behind the rest of the crowd, Poppy’s friends are also cheering for him. Even King Peppy and Tommy are joining the fun as well.

“WOO-HOO!!! Way to go, kid!” Tommy whooped from the audience as he congratulated his best friend’s greatest effort.

Branch looked around at the crowd, beaming proudly at them as his medal in his neck shone bright. He had never been this proud before, and now all of the Trolls are cheering for him, recognizing him as their newest hero.

They begin to chant out his name over and over. “BRANCH!!! BRANCH!!! BRANCH!!! BRANCH!!! BRANCH!!!”

Looking over at the happy crowd of chanting Trolls, Branch is even more happier than ever. He was glad that, despite of the magical trouble that had happened, everyone is safely happy and are glad to see that his invention is a complete success.

“It’s good to be me again!” Branch whispered happily to himself.

Later that day, Poppy and Branch went out to their favorite meadow to have a picnic again. This time, they gathered here in celebration of Branch’s Fruit-Presser project becoming a huge success during the Show-and-Tell festival’s next attempt.

Poppy gazed up at the beautiful white clouds in the blue sky, while Branch sat on a beach chair, wearing sunglasses and reading his favorite SuperTroll comic book. They were having a great time together as they ate their snacks, drinking up their favorite drinks and sharing moments with each other.

Poppy sighed happily as she looked up at the fluffy clouds. “I really like open skies!” she said, grinning.

Branch raised his sunglasses up to his hair to look clearly at her. “Yeah, me too,” he replied. “Never would’ve really thought it was fun to set up our picnic here once again.” Then he went back to reading his comic book, posing it like a tanning mirror.

Poppy smiled at him. Then she picked up a scrapbook that laid beside the picnic basket and approached him. “I have something for you,” she told him, nudging his arm. “I should have given it to you before, but I thought you might like this!”

Branch took out his sunglasses and placed his book down on the ground. He got up from the chair and stood up with his arms crossed. “Hah! Okay, my Queen,” he said smugly, displaying a sarcastic look on his face. “What is it you want to show me?”

Poppy held the book up for him to see, opening it to reveal the first page. It depicted miniature felt cutouts of herself and Branch as a cat on a field landscape. The title on top of the picture read:

The Adventures of MR. TICKLE

“TA-DAH!!!” Poppy cried, smiling widely. “A book dedicated to taking care of you as a cat! What do you think?” She stared at Branch, waiting for his reaction.

He looked embarrassed, grabbing his chest and groaning. His cheeks instantly blushed purple. “Ugh. Why did you make this?” he asked feebly.

Poppy grinned as she turned the pages of her new scrapbook. All of the pages she made were about Branch’s adventures that happened a few days ago. “Isn’t this so adorable?” she squealed, admiring every single one of them. “I made this scrapbook to recount my experience on adopting you!” She pointed out to some of them. “Look, see how I fed you milk and cat food, throwing a ball of yarn for you to catch, tickling your furry tummy and tugging at my dress! Look how cute you are!”

Branch interrupted her reading, looking more embarrassed at every second of it. “Uh…that sounds cute, Poppy,” he said nervously. “But I felt like these were all about my adventures.”

“Really?”

“Yeah...” Branch rolled his eyes, trying to forget what he saw, but he couldn’t resist admiring his girlfriend’s creativity. “On second thought, I…probably wanted to save it as a souvenir just in case.”

“That’s great, Branch!” Poppy said. “At least you will remember everything we did together!”

“Uh-huh.” Branch nodded, agreeing with her. “After all, it is one of your hardcore-mastered scrapbooks!” He couldn’t help but smile.

Poppy placed her scrapbook inside her hair as an idea struck in her mind. “Maybe someday, I’ll adopt a real pet of my own when I visit the animal shelter again!” she told him. “I was hoping it was another cat as cute as you!”

Branch looked doubtful. “You sure?” he said to her. “If you’re gonna keep a pet, you will need to take care of it responsibly. Give it a good hygiene, play with it inside and out, cuddle it and don’t let it run away to the dangerous outdoors…like I once did before.” He looked away, remembering his days when he was a little cat.

Poppy patted him on his back to comfort him. “Don’t worry, Branch!” she said. “Unlike you, it will always stay with me forever!”

“I hope so,” Branch whispered, looking away from her with shame. “And I hope you will do a great job as the queen throughout these years.”

Poppy listened carefully to his sentence. But it suddenly hit her and she gasped, realizing what the problem could be. “Are you okay? I never realized that you feel embarrassed about my new scrapbook.”

Branch shook his head, looking upset. “Uh, no. It’s not about your scrapbook,” he insisted. He hesitated a moment longer before blurting “It’s just I’m feeling tired.”

Poppy grabbed his hands and settled him down onto the picnic blanket. “Oh, come on. You’re doing great!” She quickly thought of a solution that would cheer him up and pulled out their love blanket she used to transform him back into a Troll. “I know what you need.”

Branch moved next to her and let Poppy wrap the blanket tightly around his shoulders.

“I know what you’re doing, Poppy!” he said teasingly.

“Just hold still,” Poppy said with a giggle as she finished wrapping the blanket around him. It wasn’t long before he yawned and laid down on her lap, falling asleep.

Poppy smiled; this comfy blanket had always known best. Without another thought, she placed her hand on Branch’s side and caressed him, just like when she used to pet him in cat form. As she stroked him, he began to purr softly. “Puuuurrrrrr…”

When Poppy heard the sound, she stopped caressing the blanket and stared at him. “Uh, Branch. Are you purring?” she asked, confused as if maybe the spell that turned him into a cat is half-broken.

Branch sat up and opened one eye. “What? No,” he replied. “What does it look like I’m purring? I’m just snoring.” He shrugged to show no problem in him at all. He was still the same old Branch as always.

Poppy ruffled his hair and kissed his cheek. She didn’t know what to make of his silly sleeping noises anyway, so she just went with a general compliment. “That’s okay! I prefer you snoring anyway!”

“Well, that’s just very simple in my opinion.” Branch stood up and playfully swished his blanket like a superhero cape. “I always made the best impressions!”

He giggled, and Poppy did the same. Then he drew closer to her and said in a sweet voice, “Meow!”

Poppy gasped at the sound of his voice, suddenly worried.

But then, Branch spoke to her in a normal voice, “Just kidding!”

He and Poppy both laugh out with joy, relieved that it was only one of the blue Troll’s mischievous pranks. She reached out her arms and hugged him. “Not bad for an adorable sarcastic mopi!” she cried out with a laugh. Then she kissed him on his cheek again. That is what Branch usually loved best about his experiences with her. He always loved to be there for her all the time.

“I love you, my sweet kitty!” Poppy said, smiling as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

Grinning, Branch wrapped his arms around her, returning her embrace. He was so proud that he is able to spend a lot of time with her every day. If it weren’t for him sticking along with Poppy and listening to her warnings, he would still be a cat, but he was glad to be his regular self again. The two Trolls both looked lovingly at each other as the sun began to set, making the meadow around them even more beautiful than ever. Poppy couldn’t resist her smile as she brought her lips closer to Branch’s to kiss him under the sunlight.

Deep in his heart, Branch knew this is exactly where he was meant to be...totally free from his nine lives.

Yep, I’m actually crying. I can’t believe it’s the end! 😭😭😭

I passed a few months on that fanfiction, and I wanted to say thank you to everyone for reading this story. I remember the day I saw Eva’s drawing of Branch as a cat in a posting thread about Trolls as animals, and taking inspiration from that drawing, I never thought I can try making a story about it. And if I did work on this fanfic, it’s not only because I made up this idea for myself, it’s my self-motivation that made me do it because I would like to make the result of this story to look cute and amazing for everyone to see.

So thank you, and enjoy the end of Nine Lives, One Fight. It’s been a long and fantastic journey to make this story with any of you reblogging and liking all the parts. You are all great people! 🥰😊

#dreamworks trolls #poppy and branch #broppy #poppy #branch #cat branch story #nine lives one fight #fanfiction #the final chapter #happy ending #tommy #tommy the troll

12 notes · View notes