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2chopsticks2eyes · 9 months

Text

Anger Management

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Han Jisung/Han x Fem Reader

Themes: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: ~19.5k | AO3

Warnings: Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Alcohol, Cussing, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Vaginal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Alternate Universe, Phone Sex, Anal Sex, Vaginal Sex, Protected/Unprotected Sex, One mention of previous sexual assault

Summary: When reader is given a court order to attend anger management classes, the last thing she expects is to become even more angry than before. It’s all thanks to a certain Lee Minho. Jisung intervenes in… interesting ways…

Author's Note: I want to start of first by apologizing to you guys for the delayed content. Some shit has slowed down my writing lately so hopefully it will pick up again soon. Next, this is for my lovely baby @lyramundana and her long awaited request. I hope you like it honey!

__________________________________________

He thought you were actually really fucking talented. Like outrageously so.

Like, yeah you were only a solo act and just an amateur opening for them, but Jisung couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Every stroke over your guitar strings emanated such emotion that Jisung couldn’t help but feel like he was deeply connected with you and your song.

An acoustic opening act was a bit odd for his rap group 3RACHA, but he had no complaints. Besides, this was just a small dive bar that usually only hosted other musicians, ones of all genres. After he, Chan, and Changbin finished their act, Jisung’s eyes involuntarily swept the establishment in hopes to find you and express how much he enjoyed your act.

Luckily enough, he and his two bandmates saddled up with a large group that was talking up some nonsensical chatter that you happened to be a part of. The three of them were pretty well known at this establishment, so introductions were passed around and he found your shy smile to be absolutely beautiful.

The more you talked, the more you reminded him of his boyfriend, Minho.

Jisung’s mind was always on Minho 24/7. It was a problem really, but everywhere he looked he would always think ‘I should show Minho this’ or ‘I wonder if Minho would like that’. It was pretty freaking adorable to everyone else, but Chan and Changbin teased him relentlessly for it.

It was one such involuntary thought that popped into his mind now. I bet Minho would like this girl.

Jisung didn’t necessarily get the chance to talk to you one on one, but he couldn’t help but notice that your gaze often met his own and you would blush furiously and look away rapidly with a cute shy smile.

Unfortunately, you had to leave sooner than Jisung had expected, but he offered a quick compliment about your performance before you stepped away from the group with a grateful wave and retreated toward the exit.

Jisung smiled to himself as you walked away and thought to himself. Maybe I can bring hyung here next time and see if she comes. I think he would be more successful in gaining the courage to talk to her alone.

Now, with his soulmate on his mind, he couldn’t wait to get home to his gorgeous boyfriend and tell him all about the night.

__________________________________________

“It’s very nice to meet you, young lady. Since you are new to the group, please give us a brief description of why it is that you have come here today.” You huffed at the class instructor’s response to your introduction, your mood already being foul for having to wake up so early on a Saturday.

You wouldn’t say you were necessarily an angry person, just somewhat… high-strung. That is why it pissed you the fuck off that you were given a court order to attend anger management classes twice a week for a month.

You rolled your eyes as you stood next to your chair in a group full of strangers that had their own problems to deal with and didn’t have any business in having you air out your dirty laundry in front of them. “Is that really necessary?” You said with clenched teeth to the instructor.

“Recognition is the first step to identifying where your stressors lay.” Fucking smartass response.

You huffed once more before crossing your arms and standing straight to contain yourself. “My stressors are blatantly clear. Because apparently, according to public law enforcement, it is considered mutinous to bash your ex’s face in with a guitar. Even if the bastard was fucking some chick in your own goddamned bed and all he got away with was a tiny fractured nose and some blue balls.”

Your eyes were clenched shut from the fury in your statement, but they snapped open real quick when you heard a sudden chuckling from the other side of the circle. The man had warm brown hair and wore a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up. It was hard not to notice his powerful-looking thighs through his black ripped jeans, but you reestablished eye contact. Even that proved to be difficult due to the fact that his face looked like it belonged to a carefully crafted marble sculpture by a legendary artist.

“Something funny?” You couldn’t hide the venom in your tone as you forced yourself to glare at the man who was so rudely laughing at your predicament.

Instead of getting defensive of your attack, he just offered you a petty smirk. Albeit beautiful, it was still petty. “Nothing at all, please, do continue. I feel like we were just getting to the good part.” He said with an amused smile.

You felt steam rise in your ears and you narrowed your eyes at him. “What? Is your life so shitty that you must find entertainment in other's problems?” He lifted an amused eyebrow, the rest of the class dead silent as you two stared each other down. “Well, unlike you, I came here because I defended myself. When I’m sure you came because you were the abuser!” You blurted in your fit of rage and defense.

He shot out of his chair in a flash, any sign of amusement gone as you both glared into each other’s eyes with fury. “What the fuck did you just sa–?”

“Minho-ssi, please sit down immediately! Ma’am, you are finished as well. We are here to face our own problems, not stir up more.” After some grumbling and a few choice words said under your breath, both of you quietly sat down, but the glaring contest failed to waver the entire time.

Your first class was filled with feelings and trauma and pain and by the end of it, you were basically bolting out the door to wait for your ride.

You leaned up against the exterior of the building and fished a cigarette out of your purse. You knew it was a nasty habit, really disgusting actually, but after quitting for so long and having all this shit happen to you, you needed some type of stress relief.

You wrapped your lips around it and cupped your hand around the flame to avoid the breeze from the autumn air extinguishing it before you could actually light up the cancer stick. You took a huge drag from it and watched as the smoke twisted and twirled its way through the wind.

Why did you have to be here? It was his fault you were forced to come. That bastard got to fuck some random bitch and you got sentenced with a court order? How fucked up is that…

What really hurts is that you trusted him… you had been with him for a whole year, one of the longest relationships you had been in up to that point. That was an entire year of your life that you could never get back. How was he so willing to throw it all away for some quick fuck? You felt the water rise in your eyes and chalked it up to being from the cold breeze.

You sucked in a long puff again and saw ‘Minho’, or whatever in hell the instructor called him, walk past you with a taunting smirk directed at you. Without stopping or slowing down, he directed a short, “Smoking kills,” thrown in your direction.

“Tell it to someone who cares, asshole.” You spat at him as you flipped him off for good measure. He just continued to walk and you heard a light chuckle come from his plump lips.

On the bright side, he took you out of your spiraling thoughts by pissing you off again. You glared daggers at him as you watched him walk over to his ride and give a long peck on the lips to who you assumed to be his driver just standing outside waiting for him.

However, instead of hopping in the car and leaving, you saw Minho eye you and smirk as he said something to his partner. When the other man turned around to look at you, most likely because Minho was talking shit, you froze and the cigarette fell from your fingers to the ground like an ashy flurry in the wind.

Han Jisung.

That’s what he said his name was, right? Surely it was because you remembered not being able to take your eyes off of him the entire night before your violent breakup. He was so gorgeous and adorable that you could have talked to him all night and wouldn’t have been able to get over his beauty. Sure you were emotional and available that night, but he made no move to personally talk to you.

And now you knew why.

You tried to push aside the fact that he probably didn’t remember who you were and realized it kind of pissed you off that the couple looked so drop-dead gorgeous together. You composed yourself when you realized you were shamelessly checking out Minho’s boyfriend and you knew he noticed because you noted the cocky-ass smile that was painted on Minho’s features as he looked back at you and wrapped his arm around Jisung’s waist and planted a kiss on his cheek just to rub it in.

The boiling rage in you subsided when you heard your ride yell out his car window to get a move on. You escaped the stares from the men and stamped out your cigarette with the toe of your shoe before booking it to hop in the car.

“Ew, please don’t tell me you’re smoking again…” Your best friend and roommate Seungmin said as he wrinkled his nose from the smell of you.

“Can-it, Seung. I’m not in the mood today.” You huffed as you buckled your seatbelt.

He clicked his tongue and faced you before starting up the car. “Bitch, you’re never in the mood. Don’t tell me whether or not to be concerned for my friend.” You showed him an exasperated eye roll and he continued. “Don’t give me that shit. I know you’ve been going through it, but really. It’s not a desirable trait, babe.” And with that, he set off to take you home.

“And who said I want to be desirable? At this point, I’ll end my youth by giving up on all dating whatsoever. Especially if the super hot ones are secretly douchebags.” Your mind took you to Minho and how smitten he looked with Jisung. “Like, shit. It’s like I can’t escape any of the asshats in the world. Even in this stupid fucking class!”

Seungmin looked at you sympathetically and patted your knee. “Don’t worry about them, yeobo. They are just pieces of shit because they’ve got their own stuff going on. Don’t take it too personally.”

You sighed and leaned your head up against the window. “Easier said than done, Seung.”

__________________________________________

The following Wednesday morning was your next session and you sat as far away as humanly possible from Minho. However, it kind of backfired when you realized that it put you on the direct opposite end of the circle from the little shit, making it impossible to ignore him while he was directly in your line of vision.

“Okaaay, good morning everyone! It looks like everyone’s here, let’s begin! How has everyone been since our last session?” She had a bright smile on her face and was way too peppy for eight o’clock in the morning. You, on the other hand, were warming your hands with the necessary cup of coffee you needed to get through the class.

After what felt like an eternity of listening to the other patron’s rambling, you were surprised to see the usually non participating Minho raise his hand. The instructor seemed shocked as well. “Oh! Minho-ssi! Please, go ahead!” Again, way too cheerful.

“My apologies, teach. But aren’t food and drinks prohibited in this class?” He didn’t break eye contact with you throughout the entire, headass sentence that spewed from his lips.

You cowered in your seat when the whole class turned to look directly at you. “Ah, yes. Ehm… I’m sorry sweetie, but you’ll have to throw that away…” You looked absolutely baffled.

“Seriously? It’s just one fucking cup of coffee!” The rising anger seeped through your words. That motherfucker…

The instructor looked to you imploringly. “I know, I know. But take a deep breath. It IS just ONE cup of coffee. Nothing to get worked up over, yeah? How about we all take a fifteen break and you can finish it outside, okay?”

Instead of responding, you stood up out of your chair and marched to the front door.

Coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other, you nestled yourself even further into your coat, attempting to retain any heat that was being siphoned away from you in the late fall weather. You closed your eyes after taking a large gulp and a long drag, trying to control your breathing so you wouldn’t march in there and pummel that asshole into the ground.

“Still smoking, huh?” You squeaked and jumped at the voice that was suddenly right next to you, causing you to drop your cigarette. Fucking again??

You held your hand over your heart and muttered ‘motherfucker’ under your breath as you collected yourself. The man of the hour just stood there with a smirk on his face.

“Aw, what is it, princess? Not happy to see me?” He said patronizingly with a head tilt that you refused to acknowledge as cute. You glowered at the man and aggressively stamped out your cigarette with your boot and, without a word, you looked him dead in the eye as you made a show to throw away your coffee. With an amused smile on his lips, you brushed past him to go back inside, aggressively shoving his shoulder in the process.

The class was agonizingly slow as you tried your hardest to not give in to Minho’s silent taunts the whole time. When you were, once again, waiting for your ride out front, you stiffened as you felt a presence saddle up to stand next to you. “Minho, I’ve had enough of your shit to last a lifetime. You can kindly fuck right off.” You muttered as you refused to look at him.

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” When you refused to respond to him, he deliberately stepped in your line of vision and you could feel your blood boil once again. “I’m surprised to see your cigaretteless hands. They’re quite pretty that way.” He smirked.

“Well, you’re pretty fucking annoying! My bad habits are none of your concern!” In the back of your mind, you recognized you were raising your voice, but you were too caught up in the moment to even give a damn.

“So you admit it’s a bad habit?” He raised a brow at you and you huffed a sarcastic laugh.

“I have no problem admitting that. I even quit for a while, but I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Why’d you start again?”

You looked at him incredulously. “I said it’s none of your goddamned business! Why the fuck are you even talking to me?!” Your arms made a grand gesture to drive the point across.

“I think it’s entertaining as hell to piss you off.” There was no hesitation in his statement as he looked down at you with pure amusement in his eyes.

“You–!” You heard a throat clear from beside you and you jolted a tiny bit. Now that you had your angry tunnel vision cleared, you noticed a couple of things. First, Jisung was the one that had silently approached. And second, you found that, in your fit of rage, you and Minho had gravitated dangerously close.

You basically jumped back and cleared your own throat to compose yourself as you resumed your previous post. “Hi!” You looked at Jisung with wide eyes as he greeted you. “I see you’ve met my temperamental boyfriend.” He chuckled as he looked at said man with adoration in his eyes and, for some reason, it made you feel… lonely.

“Oh, um, yeah...” Oh yeah, reeeal intelligent response. You thought as you internally rolled your eyes at yourself.

He chuckled and you thought his smile warmed the entire ten-yard radius around you. “You don’t remember me, do you?” He said a bit bashfully as he looked down with a small smile.

Your eyes popped open even wider and you waved your hands in front of yourself in denial. “N-no! Of course, I remember you! Jisung, right? From 3RACHA?”

He instantly lit up again and Minho shifted uncomfortably. “The one and only! I was afraid I didn’t leave a good enough impression for you to remember.” Again, Jisung said with a shy smile.

“Far from it! It’s hard to forget such talent. Really!” Jisung lit up even more at your words.

“Okay, what the fuck is happening? How do you two know each other?” Minho said, interjecting rather rudely if you do say so yourself. Your mood instantly soured again.

“Shush, jagi. Don’t be so rude. I met her at our usual bar where me and the guys perform. She opened for us a couple of weeks ago. You should hear her sing, she’s phenomenal! Plus, she plays the guitar like an angel.”

You blushed and looked down, failing to hide a smile from your lips. “Oh, I wouldn’t say it like that…” You humbly offered.

“Is this the famous guitar you bashed your boyfriend’s face in with?” Minho asked while failing to repress his laugh.

“You what?!” Han said as he looked at you with shocked eyes.

You glowered at Minho and huffed. “I think you mean EX boyfriend. And, not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I broke his nose along with my favorite guitar. Now I regret not using something else to swing at that fucker.” You crossed your arms and cast your gaze away from the two, feeling the regret return all over again from hurting your precious instrument.

“Ahhh, so that’s why I haven’t seen you around there lately. What a shame. That guitar was a real beauty.” You just sighed and nodded your head in defeat as you returned your attention to Jisung. “Well, in the meantime, if you want to borrow my guitar I’d happily lend it to you.”

His smile was genuine and your eyes widened. “What?! N-no, I could never! I mean, that’s very kind of you, but there’s no way I’d be able to be comfortable with someone else's guitar…” You were exasperated but mumbled a few last words. “I guess it would feel a bit too… intimate?” You had your eyes glued to the ground but you spared a look up at him.

He bit his lip with a smile and Minho’s face also housed an expression that made you feel suddenly hot with embarrassment. Jisung took a step closer to you and put a hand on your shoulder. “Well, the offer stands if you change your mind.” He said with a crooked smile, making you a bit faint for a moment before you composed yourself and looked back at his eyes and offered a small smile and a nod.

“Okay, well as much as I would love to stand here and watch you eye fuck each other, we’ve got places to be. C’mon Hannie baby.” Minho made a move to grab Jisung’s hand and you watched them interlace fingers as Jisung showed Minho a teasing smile and pressed his side into him.

“Oh? Would you rather have her eye fuck you?” Minho’s eyes went wide and he instinctually glanced at you before returning them to his boyfriend. “I mean, look at her, hyung…” Jisung directed him and his boyfriends attention toward you again and you were sure you were as red as a tomato as he talked. “Isn’t she gorgeous?” Jisung’s taunting eyes moved over you and slowly turned more serious. “Talented too.”

Before you even knew how to react, Jisung wrapped one of his arms around his boyfriend and then the other around you, making you freeze in shock at his boldness. He huddled the three of you close, as if he were about to tell a secret.

“Should I tell her what you told me about her yesterday? About how all she needs is to be tamed by filling her mouth with a huge, pulsating co–”

Jisung was cut off when Minho slapped a hand over his mouth and fixed him with a deadly glare. However, when he was released, Jisung broke out in contagious giggles that transferred over to your own mouth. Jisung released both of you as he held his stomach in a fit of laughter.

You peeked at Minho with a hand over your mouth, partially from laughter and partially to hide the pure astonishment from his alleged comment. When he met eyes with you, he scowled and addressed Jisung without backing down on his intense glare. “Are you fucking happy now? C’mon, Sung, we’re going.” Without waiting for an answer, Minho then proceeded to drag his giddy boyfriend to the parking lot as Jisung winked goodbye at you.

Little did you know, Seungmin had seen the whole thing. You sighed and groaned internally. Well, this is going to be interesting…

Once you had prepared yourself for the onslaught of questioning, you hopped in the car as the man drove you home and did, indeed, grill you for details.

__________________________________________

What the fuck was his problem? Minho had been staring daggers into you the entire first half of class and you couldn’t fathom why. He was always the one pissing you off. That fucker had no right to be pissed! (Even if he looked extremely sexy over there, slumped in his chair with his full focus on you. Lips parted and brows furrowed.)

Under different circumstances, you’d be on your knees in a heartbeat if someone looked at you like that.

During break, you went outside and habitually lit a cigarette. You needed some distraction from the fiery ball of rage that was Lee Minho.

Right as you took your first drag, a hand swooped out and grabbed it from you. You watched in outrage as Minho threw the barely-used cancer stick on the ground and stomped it out. Your revolted expression whipped to face him and burned into his eyes. Before you could breathe a word, he bracketed you up against the wall, effectively stealing the air from your lungs and stunning you to silence.

“I bet you thought that was pretty fucking funny yesterday, huh?” He growled from just inches away from your face.

You huffed a scoff that didn’t show on your frozen face. “What? Watching your face turn an adorable shade of pink? Yeah, I thought it was pretty fucking funny.” You refused to back down. “In fact, I sympathize with what you said yesterday. I, too, find it amusing as hell to piss you off.”

Even though he already had you pressed up against the wall, he inched his beautiful face even closer to you. Definitely not thinking about how cute the freckle on his nose is or plump his lips are or how you could feel his breath on your lips or how his eyes held galaxies in them as he stared into your soul… Yeah, DEFINITELY none of that was on your mind…

“Well congratulations, you succeeded.” His brows furrowed more and you smirked.

“What? It’s not my fault you were having naughty thoughts about me.” Your eyes involuntarily flitted down to his lips and you watched in stunned silence as his eyes did the same.

You both realized how close you had gotten, almost pressed against each other, before he quickly stepped back and cleared his throat. “I… I didn’t… You just… Ugh!” He stumbled over his words for a response and just ended up storming away and back into the building.

From glaring at you the entire first half, he now wouldn’t dare look you in the eye. He almost looked like he was pouting and you couldn’t help but find it a little cute…

For some reason, on your way out after class, you saw the instructor call for Minho to stay behind. You didn’t find it necessary to snoop, so you went on your merry way, only to run face-first into Jisung as soon as you got outside.

“Woah! Hey there, gorgeous!” He said with a bright smile as he held you by the arms to stabilize you from your crash into him. You looked down and blushed with a smile, a bit intimidated by having his full attention. You felt a bit more at ease once he released you.

“H-Hi Jisung. I think Minho’s talking to the instructor.” You explained, thinking he was wondering where his boyfriend was.

“Oh, okay! Well, how’ve you been since I saw you last week? I know you’ve been on Min’s mind an awful lot.” He said casually with a chuckle.

What? No way.

“Are we talking about the same Minho? The one who almost throttled me for laughing at him last week?” You huffed a half-chuckle in disbelief and raised a brow.

“He almost did what now?” He sounded shocked but intrigued all the same.

“Yeah! He pushed me up against the wall during break time and grilled me!”

Jisung’s face grew a wry smile and he stepped an inch closer. “Oh he did, did he? Very interesting…” You were a bit apprehensive considering his tone. His eyes darted over your shoulder briefly before looking back at you and digging in his pocket. You were a bit dumbfounded when he held his phone out to you.

“Well, while he’s standing in the doorway watching us…” He said, trying to suppress his smile. You had to force yourself to not look behind you. “Give me your number and I promise we can rile him up a bit more, yeah?”

A smile slowly bloomed on your face and you tentatively took the phone from him. “I like the way you think, my friend.” You tapped away your contact on his phone and saved your name as ‘Angry Bitch’ with a smug smile.

He guffawed as he read it and briefly sent you a text to share his number as well, naming himself in-text ‘Sexy Quokka’. You shared a small giggle yourself and were startled when you felt gentle fingers brush across your cheek. “You have such a pretty smile…” He said with a soft grin that made your ears instantly turn red.

You were knocked from your reverie when you felt a not-so-gentle hand grab your shoulder and quickly spin you around. “Are you just trying to get on my bad side?” You crossed your arms and raised a brow at him in defiance.

“Does that mean you actually have a good side? I’m shocked!” You exclaimed in mock surprise.

The side of his lip curled up in an outrageous sneer. Again, he came within an inch of your face. “What the fuck is your deal?! First, you rat me out to the teacher and said I was being violent during break–” What?? “And now you decide to start whoring around my boyfriend?!”

Ouch.

Whore. That word cut you deep. Some people found it hot during sex, others just think it’s another word. For you, it was what your ex would constantly berate you as. Any time you came home late from work? Whore. If you told him you wanted to actually orgasm during sex? Whore. If you even glanced at another man. Whore. Whore. Whore.

It felt like a punch to the gut to hear those words from Minho’s mouth and he seemed to notice as he backed off and furrowed his brows. You felt the stupid, angry tears well up in your eyes. Angry from his words and angry with how Minho and Jisung were looking at you now. Surprise. Regret. Concern.

“H-Hey… I didn’t mea–” You refused to let Minho finish the sentence as you turned around and started walking.

“Wait! Please don’t go!” You heard Jisung say right before you shut the door to Seungmin’s car.

“Everything alri–”

“Just go. Please.” You said calmly to avoid Seungmin’s questioning and, thankfully, he got the hint as the two of you drove home in silence.

__________________________________________

You didn’t feel like going to your next class, too afraid to encounter Minho. But the instructor wasn’t having it. After you missed class, you got a call from her reminding you that this was a court order and you were required to complete the entire course.

So, with that in mind, you sluggishly dragged yourself out of bed the following class, not giving two shits that you were arriving late, and slumped down in the only chair available.

Right. Next. To. Minho.

You refused to look at him. Refused to acknowledge his existence, even, as the lesson went on. When your break started, you bolted to the bathroom to hide before he could get a single word out. Not for a lack of trying…

You could feel his eyes burn into you the entirety of the second half of class, too. Just when you were about to bolt again when class was dismissed, you felt a gentle hand grab your wrist. “Please. Just… just hear me out…” You refused to look at him, but you made no move to leave. You heard him sigh as he released your hand. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine.” And that was all you felt the need to say before you turned and left before he could stop you again.

You felt a cold breeze flit past you when you stepped out of the building and you took a deep breath of fresh air, only to run straight into someone when you rounded the corner.

Of. Fucking. Course.

Just like last time, Jisung’s hands grabbed you to stabilize you, but this time he didn’t release you. “Do you make a habit of running into people?” He mused as he flashed a guarded smile at you.

You brushed off his hands and stepped back. “It’s not like I try to. Sorry…” You refused to look him in the eye and you began to walk off, but you were halted by another presence stepping in your path.

And there the couple stood, side by side, fully focused on you as you looked up at them like a kicked puppy. You heard Jisung sigh heavily before you looked at him again.

“Look, please just hear us out. If you still don’t forgive us, I give you permission to slap us silly, okay?” They both looked at you with the most adorable pouty eyes and you crossed your arms.

“Just get on with it…”

Minho let out a large sigh and bit his lip before speaking. “I talked to the teacher and she told me that another classmate saw us outside last week and they were the ones who told her. I…” Your eyes were fixed on his frustrated features as he paused. “I’m sorry I blamed you… And I’m sorry for what I said… I know you’re not a whore, I was just pissed off…”

You winced at the word again and he definitely noticed.

Jisung decided to speak up. “And it’s my fault for riling him up anyway. I’m just sorry I got you stuck in the middle of it…” Jisung looked genuinely apologetic and you slightly slumped in defeat.

However, you tensed up again when you were basically electrocuted by the sensation of Minho resting his hand on your shoulder and looking at you with furrowed brows.

“Look, I just… you make me… I can’t… ugh…” His hand flew to his hair in frustration and your mind betrayed you for wanting to run your hands through those silky chocolate locks yourself. “Look, I don’t know what I’m trying to say… I just–”

“It’s fine.” You said as you calmly cut him off. “It’s nothing, just forget about it.” Your face held no emotion and his brows turned inward.

“I can’t just forget about it… I hurt you…”

You scoffed. “Since when did you care about that? Like I said, just forget it, I definitely know that I want to.” You took note of the frustration and sorrow that was painted across his face and you had to stop yourself from grabbing his hand when he finally released your shoulder.

You froze in place when he, instead, stepped up closer to you and looked down into your eyes. “I do care…” You were speechless. Why in the world would he care about you? You were no one to them.

Jisung stepped closer as well and you felt extremely small under their intimidating towering. “How about we take you out to dinner tonight? As a peace offering?” You narrowed your eyes tentatively and Jisung quickly spoke again. “Y-you can even order the most expensive food and drinks! Completely on us! And we can go wherever you like!”

You giggled at his rambling and you were sure you saw both of them slump in relief as the unwelcome tension that blanketed the area finally lifted. You looked down at your feet (partially to avoid their intense eye contact) and you deliberated.

You barely know these men. It wouldn’t be the brightest idea to go out with complete strangers anyway, let alone one with anger issues! You don’t know what caused it, it could be anything! But… for some reason, they seem trustworthy… Even after what happened last week, Jisung didn’t harass you with constant texts and he respected your distance. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you hadn’t been out in a while and it would be nice to have a free meal and some drinks…

You let out a big sigh and looked back up at them. Fine, what the hell. “What time?” You had to bite back your endeared smile when you witnessed their faces light up in delight. Even if Minho quickly corrected himself and forced himself to look unaffected.

“A-any time you like!” Jisung babbled. “If you want, just text me the time and place and we’ll be there!”

You both looked at Minho after he briefly cleared his throat. “Or… um… we could pick you up at yours? So you don’t have to find a ride… and you’re safe getting home and stuff.” He didn’t look at you as he talked and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Well this is a new look for him…

Jisung smiled endearingly at him and rubbed his back before looking back at you. “Does that sound alright to you?”

You considered, thinking it would be nice to not have to resort to Seungmin’s help for yet another reason and also while avoiding public transport. You smirked at Minho who had returned his eyes to you. “Okay, but on one condition.” They both looked like they were readying themselves for the worst-case scenario and you giggled. “Minho has to tell me what he did to get into this class.”

Jisung widened his eyes and looked at his boyfriend who seemed as cool as a cucumber. “Deal.” He said confidently and a smile instantly spread across your face. “But only after we get to the restaurant.”

You nodded your head once and stuck out your hand. “Deal.” He looked at your hand tentatively and slowly raised his hand to give you a light shake. His skin felt like a million degrees and you felt a shiver itching to course through your bones, but you remained vigilant in hiding just how much that small touch affected you.

When Minho dropped your hand, Jisung reached out and squeezed your shoulder. “See you later, then, gorgeous.” He quickly shot you a wink and then the pair walked back to their car, hand-in-hand.

“Seungmin, whatever you’re going to say, I would highly advise against it.” You grumbled as you got in the car to be faced with his shit-eating grin.

You narrowed your eyes into slits at his smug smile as he started the car. “Whatever do you mean? I surely wasn’t going to say anything about your intense closeness to those two attractive men and how much you were blushing like a lovesick teenager. I would never!” His voice rang sarcastically.

You felt your blush deepen, but rather than retorting back, you settled for punching his arm and pouting as he laughed at you the entire way back home.

__________________________________________

You anxiously looked at yourself in the mirror and felt stupid. You shouldn’t really care what they thought… They were gay! And taken! And it shouldn’t even matter what you wore! But…

You assessed your wardrobe and couldn’t help but think of what these two extremely attractive men would find most appealing. You decided to wear a short blood-red, tight-fit dress with a low cut that made your boobs look amazing if you do say so yourself. You wore thigh-high black steletto boots and topped it off with a cozy-looking black sweater/cardigan that hung down past the length of your dress so you could appear somewhat modest.

“Well someone’s looking quite spicy tonight. Where are you headed?” Seungmin said with amusement buzzing in his lungs from the door frame to your room.

You just smiled smugly at him. “Your mom’s house, apparently she’s into women now.” You winked at him and you saw him roll his eyes exaggeratingly before turning back to the mirror.

“Well, I’m gonna spend the night at Jeongin’s place tonight so you can have the place to yourself and… whatever poor soul you’re going to be tormenting tonight.” You quickly turned and threw one of your makeup brushes at him before he scampered out of the room with a cute giggle.

You were just putting on the final touches of your makeup when you heard the doorbell ring. You whipped your head around and saw Seungmin in the hallway giving you that same Cheshire smile before he walked off to answer the door.

Shit.

You grabbed your purse and chased after him to stop the impending disaster, but it was too late… “Oh shit! I’m sorry, I must have the wrong apartment!” Jisung said as he leaned back to look at the door number while Minho stared speculatively at Seungmin.

“No no no! You have the right one! Coming!” Your mouth poured out before you brushed past Seungmin and out the door to join the two men with flabbergasted faces who were shamelessly checking you out. Odd… “Later Seung!” You shot behind you to your roommate before dragging Minho and Jisung outside by their arms.

“Woah woah woah! Slow it down, why don’t you?” Minho said, pulling his hand out of your grasp once you were out of the building. You stopped and turned around to look at him challengingly, but your mindset screeched to a halt when you looked at the pair standing side by side.

They were drop-dead gorgeous. I mean, they had god-like beauty on an average day but now? Now they had outdone themselves.

Jisung had on a neat, white button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off his toned forearms. His baggy jeans were of a designer brand and his hair was styled off his face to show ce his impeccable skin in full force.

Minho, on the other hand, was wearing a black, knit sweater with a deep V cut that was outlined with gaps in the knitting that showed off his impeccable pecs. His black pants were super tight fit and your eyes widened when you saw the size of his muscular thighs. His hair was slightly wavy and disheveled which gave him an even sexier demeanor.

Both of them had a dusting of makeup and you couldn’t help but blatantly run your eyes over the entirety of them. Thankfully, neither of them noticed because they were also wearing similar expressions as their gaze roved over your body.

You swallowed thickly and decided to break the silence. “You… You guys clean up nice…” You cursed yourself for sounding so breathless.

Jisung blinked rapidly as if he was dropped back into reality and he cleared his throat. “Are you kidding me? Have you seen yourself?! You’re absolutely gorgeous! Minnie, look at her!” He said as he swatted his boyfriend’s arm.

“Oh trust me, I’m looking…” Minho said so low you almost missed it. Watching him look at you with fire in his eyes made your insides turn. When he seemed to shake himself out of his stupor, he also cleared his throat and looked away. Bright red quickly coated his face and neck. “I-I mean, yeah. You look… different…” He rubbed his neck and side-eyed you. Before you could react, he spoke up once more. “That guy looks like the guy who picks you up from class. And his nose didn’t look broken... You get a new boyfriend?”

They both looked apprehensive and it took you a moment to realize who he was referring to. “What? Seungmin? No no no no!” You gave a nervous chuckle and averted your eyes from their piercing gaze. “No… ahem– No, Seungmin’s just a friend who let me live with him after my breakup. I’m–” You cut yourself off, not knowing if it was pertinent information to share, but their waiting faces led you to continue. “I’m still single…” You murmured with an awkward chuckle, cheeks most likely a tad bit rosy.

Jisung’s bright smile eased the tension in the air. “Very interesting…” He lilted with a half-smirk that looked unbelievingly sexy. What the hell was that supposed to mean?! He puffed out a big sigh and looped his arm around Minho’s bicep, to which the elder responded by placing his free hand on the one the younger had wrapped around his arm. “So, beautiful, where are we taking you tonight? Club? Five-star restaurant? The moon?”

You giggled and rolled your eyes and you saw the corners of Minho’s lips slightly lift up. “Get in and I’ll give you directions.” You said, strutting past them and waiting patiently by the car as they curiously followed you.

__________________________________________

“Really? Out of all the places you could have chosen, you take us to the bar Hannie performs at?” Minho asked with a raised brow as the three of you sat side-by-side at the bar. For some reason, instead of sitting together, they sat on either side of you. Maybe it was in case you tried to bail… You chuckled as you thought to yourself.

“Well, yeah. It’s cheap, the drinks are good, the vibe is chill, and the food doesn’t taste half bad.” You shrugged your shoulders as the bartender walked up and took your orders, not even batting an eye that you were going to be eating at the bar seating as opposed to the booths. “Plus, I have good memories here…” You smiled to yourself, remembering the time you were scared shitless when you performed publicly for the first time.

“Why’s that, sweetheart? Because this is where you first met me?” Jisung said with a wry smile and sultry voice that made you melt. He leaned in close to tease you and you were dizzy just from the smell of him.

You swatted his arm and laughed. “No! This is where I first performed live! I was a complete trainwreck and I’m pretty sure my guitar was out of tune, but it was the best day of my life.” You said wistfully with a sigh as you turned around in your seat to look at the musicians casually performing on the little stage in the corner of the room.

“I feel left out! I haven’t seen you play!” Minho whined while nudging your arm, the other two men turning around on the bar stools to watch your fellow bar patrons as well.

Jisung leaned forward to smirk at his boyfriend. “Awww is Minnie jealous?” He cooed while wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You stiffened and all of your senses honed in on the direct contact between you two.

Minho huffed. “As if.” He looked smug as he crossed his arms and looked straight again to declare confidently. “I hang out with her way more often than you do, jagi.”

“I would hardly count us bickering all morning twice a week as ‘hanging out’, Minho.” You challenged with a raised brow.

“Yeah, but it’s so much fun. It’s my favorite part of the week!” He said with an evil sneer as he leaned close to you.

You tried to not show how much his proximity was affecting you, but it was extremely difficult. “Oh joy. I feel so very honored. You just thrive on watching me squirm, don’t you?” You scoffed as you turned to look at him haughtily.

“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it, princess…” He murmured in a sultry tone that made your eyes widen and your ears turn bright red. You felt the arm around your shoulder tighten as you watched Minho bite his lip and lean even closer with an evil grin.

You didn’t know why, but the air was thick with tension and you were almost hyperventilating with the closeness of the boys around you.

“Here you guys go! Let me know when you’re ready for more drinks!” You completely jumped out of your skin when the bartender spoke up behind you, causing the boys to laugh as they turned back around to eat.

These boys are not good for my heart…

__________________________________________

Once the three of you finished your food, you ended up staying for hours just talking about shit-all and you found yourself loosening up more and more. Which you were sure the drinks contributed to.

You were all laughing and playfully bickering as the three of you walked to the car. However, all of a sudden, one particular thought was automatically snapped into place in your brain and you screeched to a halt in your tracks. “Oh my gosh! I totally forgot!” The boys turned to look at you with confusion etched into their features as you all stood by the car.

You suddenly marched up to Minho and, in your slightly inebriated mindset, you thought it would be a good idea to move your face a mere few inches away from his own unsuspecting one.

“You, mister, have to tell me why you’re in anger management with me!” You huffed as you placed your index finger smack-dab in the middle of his chest to drive the point home.

You felt his warm breath blow across your lips as he exhaled a shaky sigh. “I… I…” His eyes were rapidly blinking and he seemed to be at a loss for words as he struggled to form any sort of sound from his open mouth.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of hands grasp your shoulders and a hot breeze tickled your ear. “How about…” You felt Jisung pull you a bit closer and his lips were dangerously close to your neck. “...we discuss it when we get back to your place, yeah?”

You let out your own shaky breath and you held back your trembling when you saw pure, carnal desire painted across Minho’s face. Jisung’s surely going to be destroyed tonight when they get home…

The thought actually did make you shiver this time and you felt the arms around you squeeze your shoulders slightly. “Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” Jisung whispered in your ear and you could only bring yourself to dumbly nod in compliance just to be led to the car by the hand.

The drive was very tense for some reason and you didn’t know why these men were affecting you so much! They’re gay. They are boyfriends. Don’t have these useless thoughts about them… You told yourself as you subconsciously squeezed your thighs together.

“Um…” You muttered as you stood outside your apartment door, both of the boys looking at you as if they were waiting for something. You picked your gaze up from the ground to look at them and you saw Minho looking straight past you and into the open door of your apartment.

You were about to do a very stupid thing.

“S-Seungmin’s not home… in case you were wondering…” You watched Minho look back at you with a raised brow before he turned his eyes to look into your apartment again, Jisung watching him with crossed arms and an amused smirk. “Um…” You sputtered again. “Would you guys like to come in?”

Jisung shot you a dashing smile and you had to bite back your smile. “I thought you’d never ask!”

After more alcoholic beverages were served (because you definitely needed it to get through the night) and you were all settled on the couch, the two men sat on either side of you again. Were these motherfuckers trying to kill you?!

Minho cleared his throat before he broached the impending topic. “Sooo… about class…” You whipped your head to look at his sheepish expression and fully faced him in eagerness to hear him out. “I might have possibly hospitalized one of Jisung’s exes…”

“WHAT?!” You exclaimed with eyes as wide as saucers. “What the fuck do you mean you hospitalized him?!” You were sure the apparent shock was written all over your features and you felt a gentle hand plant itself on your knee from the other side of you.

“No no no, it’s nothing that serious.” Han peered around you to scowl at his boyfriend. “You see hyung? This is why people are scared of you!” He did have a point, Minho was terribly frightening when he wanted to be… Jisung looked back at you and rubbed his thumb over the bare skin of your leg. “The bastard was stalking me and, when I got off work one day, he cornered me and tried to…” Jisung closed his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself. “He tried to… force himself on me…”

You hadn’t even realized you had put a hand over your mouth in bewilderment until Minho quickly placed his hand over the one Jisung had on your leg and you don’t think you had ever seen Minho look so… soft. “It’s okay, jagi… you don’t have to talk about it…” Jisung offered him a sad smile and solemnly nodded. Without a word, you froze when Minho retreated his hand from Jisung’s and, instead, placed it on your other knee. All of your senses and nerves were focused on their touch and you felt like you couldn’t see or hear anything else around you.

WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK ARE THESE FUCKING HUNK GODS FUCKING DOING TO YOU WITH THEIR WARM HANDS AND BEAUTIFUL FACES AND SEXY-ASS BODIES THAT MADE YOU WANT TO JUMP ON THEM AND DEVOUR THEM WHOLE?! You were surely going to die that night.

You hoped and prayed that they didn’t notice your furious blushing. “Anyway, luckily, I found him before anything happened, and I…” Minho glanced at you tentatively. “I may have broken his leg…” Your eyes widened. “And, uh, his arm too?” He bit his lip before continuing. “And I maybe also cracked one or two of his ribs…” You leaned back toward Jisung and they both squeezed each of your knees simultaneously.

“Wh-what?!” He offered a somewhat complacent smile and Jisung spoke up.

“You were incredibly lucky he didn’t press charges…” He muttered.

“Yeah well, considering the fact I would have sold him out as a rapist, I’d say he got off pretty easy…” Minho said, directing an annoyed huff off to the side.

“So he’s still out there?!” Minho scowled at your outburst and, instead of pulling away, he firmly squeezed your knee.

“What? Would you prefer I have a felony on my record?” He spat.

“Minnie–”

“No–!” Minho cut Jisung’s unspoken words short and glared at you once more. “News flash princess, he would have been released to the public either way!” He argued with a raised voice.

You scowled and spat right back at him. “Well, he should have had some sort of legal reprimanding!”

His grip on your knee was almost painfully tight and you ignored the stirring in your core that it caused. He leaned toward you with a lethally calm voice. “You little–”

“Oh my GOD! Just kiss already!” Jisung yelled from your other side and restlessly slid his hand just marginally higher up on your leg.

His outburst brought you crashing back down to earth with incredible velocity and you quickly realized the position you were in. Minho, who wore the same furious expression as you, had slid his hand up as well, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. You and him had also been bringing your faces closer and closer in your fit of rage and he was only a mere few inches from your face.

Before your scowl could morph into a stupid state of astonishment, you instantly felt Minho’s hand grab the base of your neck. You found yourself being roughly turned away from him and immediately pushed towards his boyfriend. He then proceeded to smash your faces together and, as if Jisung was already anticipating it, he instantly cupped your face and slammed his lips against yours. All the while, their other hands never left your legs.

Once your lips touched down on his pouty lips, your body wasn’t your own anymore. You gasped into his mouth and then felt some sort of beast come alive in you, one that was solely fueled by your still-burning rage.

You let loose. Your arms looped around his neck and, when you felt his tongue peek out to tangle with yours, you arched your back from where you were pinned to the couch by their strong hands. A deep moan vibrated in your vocal cords when you felt Jisung’s hand slowly gravitate up your thigh.

That was when you were redirected once more.

Jisung’s other hand was strong but gentle as he switched from cupping your cheek to grabbing your jaw and quickly turning your head to push you towards Minho once more. You gasped again as you got a brief glimpse of Minho’s (sexy as fuck) furiously ravenous face before you were now connected to his lips.

Your hands automatically flew to his hair and you took your anger out on his beautiful brown locks. The tugging and abuse of the hair between your fingers earned a delicious growl from in between his lips and you took advantage of that to lick into his mouth. When you felt his bruising grip drift to the inside of your thigh, you took it upon yourself to clumsily rid your body of the quickly overwhelming heat of your sweater.

When you felt Jisung’s hand rub up and down your inner thigh, you pulled Minho away by his hair and turned back to Jisung. He was more than happy to lock lips with you, but it seemed like Minho wasn’t done with you as you felt him bite down hard on the base of your neck. You threw your head back against the couch as you cried out.

“You’re a fucking brat, aren’t you?” Minho hissed as he attached his lips to your neck and began biting and sucking every inch he could get his mouth on.

“A goddamned delicious brat…” Jisung added huskily as his tongue traced its way across your clavicle. You were in heaven and hell at the same time and you felt like, if you weren’t fucked right this instant, you would surely die.

One particularly hard bite from Minho had your hips bucking into the air and their hands were eager to make the journey underneath your dress. Your drenched panties were quickly rendered useless as the men desperately tore them off of you. On one side, Minho ran his finger through your dripping folds to begin furiously playing with your clit. On the other hand, Jisung made the plunge and sunk a finger inside you, making you cry out once more.

You were thrashing in their grip, Jisung with his unoccupied arm around your waist, and Minho with his firm grip on your hair.

You were so close to your peak that you could almost cry from the amount of pleasure. However, when Minho and Jisung looked at each other with that same intense passion, desperately connecting lips and tongues while continuing to pleasure you, that sealed the deal. You came so hard that you were almost dizzy from it and the men separated to revel in the sight of your orgasm. “That’s it, shake for us, baby,” Jisung murmured as he kissed the swell of your breast that peeked out of your dress.

“How pathetic. Couldn’t even hold out to cum on our cocks.” Minho challenged and you stared daggers at him.

Without further notice, you tore yourself from them and straddled Minho, pinning his arms to the couch and directing your seething face at him. “Oh, you have no idea how many times I can cum, princess. But it all depends if your useless cocks are able to get the job done.” He gave you a bone-chilling sneer in response to your challenge, but before he could respond, you grabbed Jisung by his shirt collar and yanked him over to join you where you straddled his boyfriend.

You made a show of licking up the column of his neck as he groaned and then you moved to whisper against his lips. “Want to show him how it’s done, Ji?” He smiled against your lips and murmured.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” He grabbed your hand and Minho watched in amazement as you hastily dragged his boyfriend to your bedroom.

You then proceeded to lift Jisung and throw him on the bed, quickly straddling him as the pair stared at you in amazement of your strength. “Hot damn, girl! You’re strong as hell!” Minho said with astonishment in his voice.

“Shit, that’s hot as fuck…” Jisung mumbled before he grabbed your neck and pulled you down to crush your lips against his. You couldn’t control the whimper that escaped your lips when he rolled his clothed erection against your glistening cunt.

You whined against his lips and spoke between rushed kisses. “Sungie… need you…” Your declaration snapped Minho into action and he rushed to your side.

“Condoms?” He said, sounding slightly breathless as he palmed himself.

“Drawer.” You signaled with your head towards your nightstand and he quickly returned with the two rubbers. You were eternally grateful to yourself for keeping them ‘just in case’ anything were to happen after your breakup.

They took a moment to ogle you when you stripped yourself of your dress and displayed the lean muscles that were usually hidden behind your clothes.

“Fuck…” They both breathed in tandem and you internally patted yourself on the back for staying fit and muscular. Especially if you earned those kinds of reactions.

Your impatience showed as you tore off your bra, the last article of clothing on you due to your panties already being in tatters somewhere on the living room carpet. You had barely even discarded the item before two sets of lips were on each nipple. You, once again, threw your head back and ground down against the man below you.

He released your nipple with a deep groan and you used the opportunity to claw at his shirt to rid him of it. You gave up once he took over and, instead, focused your efforts on freeing his cock from the confines of his pants. You shimmied off of him so he could quickly yank off his jeans and boxers and your eyes went as wide as saucers.

Shit, this boy is PACKING.

He used your ogling to his advantage and he pushed you on your back, hovering over you with a smirk as he lazily stroked his cock. “Just sit back and enjoy, sweetheart. We’ve got all night…”

THANK GOD.

He slid on the rubber and was about to start fingering you before you halted his movements. “Please, Jisung. I need you now!”

He looked at you apprehensively, fingers lazily circling your inner thigh. “Baby, I don’t want to hurt you…”

You roughly pulled him down so he was a hair’s breadth away from your mouth. “Angel, I love the stretch. Do your worst.” You saw a darkness in his eyes that you had yet to see and he leaned back to position himself as he looked down at where you two connected.

He looked back up at you with his gaze ablaze and he watched your face as he slammed his cock inside you with a force that took you by surprise.

You almost choked on the gasp you produced and your vision was blinded with a white light for a moment. You saw the muscles in his strong chest and abdomen contract and relax in between kisses as he started to plow into you with labored breaths.

“Fuck, yes! Show him, Ji…” You crooned and Jisung gave you a wicked smile before he processed your words. However, he instantly cowered when Minho stood on your bed to loom over the younger boy, clothes completely discarded.

“Hyung…” Jisung groaned as his thrusts continued at a steady pace.

Minho only responded with hooded lids and a domineering expression as he held his (otherworldly beautiful) cock up to Jisung’s spit-slick lips. “Go ahead, Hannie baby. Show me how it’s done.” His voice was deadly calm and there was a hidden threat underlying his words that made Jisung instantly respond.

You had to give it to him, you were impressed.

Jisung’s hips never faltered or slowed down as he gulped down his boyfriend’s (also unreasonably large) cock. Minho hissed between his teeth at the much-needed stimulation and he turned his head to you with a cocky grin.

Still looking at you, he began petting Jisung’s disheveled hair. “That’s a good boy…” He said glancing lovingly down at his lover before looking back at you. “See? Even while making you squirm, my baby boy knows who properly wrecks him.” He bit his lip and continued to revel in the enigma that was Han Jisung and his multitasking expertise.

When you heard a faint gag come from the younger’s mouth, you saw Minho lose his composure for a split second before grabbing the boy’s hair and freeing himself from the wet heat that surrounded him. Jisung whined, but only grasped your hips harder, shoving himself deeper and bringing you closer and closer.

“You’re too good at that baby…” Minho spoke in a sultry tone as he finally knelt down on the mattress as well. He kept his hand rooted in the younger's hair as he brought two of his fingers to Jisung’s mouth. “Get them nice and wet for me, love?” Jisung nodded eagerly and quickly slathered the digits with his saliva, sucking, licking, and slobbering on them until they were dripping. Once Minho deemed the job properly done, he pulled back his hand and gave his boyfriend a light peck before whispering against his lips. “Now ruin that cunt of hers so I can properly fuck the bitchiness out of her. Yeah?”

Jisung exhaled a slight chuckle before turning back to you with a smirk. “Oh you’re in for it now, honey…” When Minho finally released him, the beautiful, round-faced sweetheart turned into an insatiable demon. You braced yourself when his beautiful hands grabbed your ankles and stretched them all the way up over your head, properly folding you in half.

You had no clue how he managed to do it, but every single thrust after that nailed you right in the center of your g-spot and you threw your head back with a loud cry.

You soon found out what Minho planned to do with those soaked fingers of his when he moved to crouch at your side on the mattress. He smirked evilly as he held those same fingers up to your mouth. “Your turn, princess. Soak me.”

You were desperate to hold back your moans as you willed yourself to glare up at him. However, it sounded more like a whine when you spoke. “Make me…”

You could say you were a bit regretful of those words when his face morphed into a searing scowl. Without saying a word, he calmly brought his fingers to your face and turned to Jisung. “You know what to do, Hannie…”

The amused smile that bloomed on Jisung’s face quickly morphed into a sadistic one as he looked back at you. All simultaneously, Minho plunged his face in your cunt and quickly started making out with your clit at the same time Jisung decided to angle deeper and intentionally crushed your cervix. The resulting scream that emanated from you allowed Minho to plunge his awaiting fingers in your mouth and you began eagerly slobbering all over them, tasting Jisung’s remaining saliva in the process.

Eventually, you could no longer tend to his fingers as an earth shattering orgasm washed over you, causing you to scream and soak both Jisung and Minho in tandem.

You had just come down from your high when you felt Jisung halt all movement inside you. When the haze cleared from your eyes and you lifted your head to assess the situation, your jaw dropped.

Minho was positioned behind Jisung with one hand around his neck and the other was pumping his spit-slick fingers in his ass. Jisung looked as if he was in so much pleasure that all other functions of his body were rendered useless. “Such a good boy, letting her cum on your cock like that. So fucking sexy…” Minho murmured in his lover’s ear as you watched the hand around his neck alternate between loosening and contracting.

Jisung whimpered and you scowled at the man behind him who shot you a triumphant smirk over Jisung’s strong shoulder.

You huffed and slunk out from underneath Jisung who’s limbs had gone slack in pleasure. You proceeded to lunge at Minho and pin him down against your destroyed sheets. You felt a hint of pride when you were able to overpower him and keep him in place.

“You think you’re pretty slick, huh? Taking Ji away from me like that?” You seethed just inches from his stupidly beautiful smug face.

“Oh, I don’t think I am, princess. I know I am.” He mused.

You huffed and spoke over your shoulder to the dazed man behind you. “Jisung, baby, would you please wrap up this man’s worthless dick so I can make him fall apart under me, please?” You fluttered your eyelashes at the younger man and he eagerly complied, kissing your neck as he, too, straddled Minho to roll the condom on him.

With you hovering over Minho’s cock, Jisung facing you from where he straddled his boyfriend’s torso, and Minho with his hands fondling Jisung’s ass, the three of you acted simultaneously.

You slowly sank down on the hot, twitching appendage and Minho groaned, roughly sinking his fingers into the flesh of Jisung’s ass cheeks and spreading them apart. The latter breathed in a surprised gasp and you watched in awe as Minho wrapped his arms around the younger’s thighs to sit him back on top of the man’s face.

Jisung cried out as you heard the sloppy noises of Minho going to town on his eager hole. All the while, you were still adjusting to Minho’s size. They were pretty similar in size, but it was still a lot to handle and you were more than a little breathless when you started bouncing on his cock, your hands roaming over his toned abdomen in the process.

Your eyes, when the overwhelming fog of lust cleared, locked onto the other man that was riding the man beneath the two of you. Jisung had a blazing fire in his eyes that bore into your soul and you didn’t even think twice before pulling him in for a searing kiss.

With your lips attached, you both continued to grind on the man below you while Minho alternated his groping between Jisung’s plump ass cheeks and your own. Minho was growling and moaning against his hole as he bucked up into you and you whimpered when Jisung brought his hands up to play with your waiting breasts.

However, Jisung seemed to have the air knocked out of him when you slipped off his now-pointless condom and started expertly pumping his cock with your eager hand. “O-oh fuck…” He muttered against your lips and you smiled up at him.

“Will you cum on my face, Jisungie? Please?” You heard both of them loudly moan at that and you leaned down to get as close to his dick that you were able to and began using all of your focus to properly jack this beautiful man off.

You knew he was close when his legs started shaking underneath him and you heard a cry fall from his lips when you managed to get close enough to give a small kitten-lick to his tip. Cum instantly sputtered all over your face and lips and you lapped up everything that your tongue could catch.

Both you and Minho laid the completely spent boy down next to you on the bed before Minho grabbed you behind the neck and growled against your lips. “We. Aren’t. Done. Yet.” You gasped when he licked up a long string of cum off your face and smirked at your slackened jaw. “Fuck!” He yelled as he grasped your hips and thrusted up into you as he slammed you down on his cock. “You look so goddamned sexy with Hannie’s load all over your face…”

He pulled you down to, once again, clean up your face with his tongue and then furiously kissed you as he fucked up into your abused hole. You couldn’t have cared less that that same tongue was up Jisung’s asshole just moments before, not with the way he was making you feel. You whimpered into his mouth with every thrust and it wasn’t until you screamed their names as you came that he emptied himself into the condom as well.

He rode you through your orgasms before you rolled over and collapsed next to Jisung who seemed to be lost in a daze as he watched you two finish.

Heavy breathing was the only thing that was heard and three palpitating chests were the only things that moved as you came back to reality and realized what the fuck just happened.

Holy christ on a cracker…

Your breathing began morphing into breathless laughter which then turned into full on cackling as you felt two sets of eyes fixed on you. Once your giggles died down and you wiped the resulting tears from your eyes, you threw your head back with an amused lilt to your voice. “What the hell just happened?”

You heard chuckling from both sides of you in response and they both sat up to look down at you. “Are you doing okay there, beautiful?” Jisung laughed with a smile on his face as he wiped what was presumably jizz out of your hair. You nodded with an equally bright face up at him and you looked over to see that Minho was tonguing his cheek with an amused grin.

You narrowed your eyes at him, preparing yourself for whatever snark was about to fall from his lips, but his face slowly softened. “So, uh, does this mean you forgive me for what I said?”

You tried desperately to suck in your smile, but you were pretty sure you failed miserably. You had completely forgotten that’s what tonight was supposed to be all about and you could almost laugh at yourself with how quickly you let your guard down around them. You liked them. And not just for their dicks or god tier good looks, but you found that, in only a short amount of time, these were pretty cool guys.

Maybe that’s why you were feeling the way you felt…

You made a show of appearing as if you were deliberating your response, but you knew you had already forgiven him as soon as you saw him that morning. But he didn’t need to know that…

“Hmmm… I suppose I can look past your assholery if you two clean up this mess you’ve created.” You smirked at them and they immediately got to work.

The night ended with both of them slowly cleaning you up with wet towels, only briefly interrupted by their wandering hands and kisses, before they quickly changed your sheets. You climbed into bed naked and they just stood at the end of your bed looking a bit sheepish.

You rolled your eyes at them, finding it amusing that, out of everything that had happened that night, this was the part they were awkward about.

“Well?” You said with a raised brow. “We don’t have all night for you two to just stand there! Get in!” You said lifting the covers. “Unless you prefer traveling all the way home at this time of night?”

They looked at each other and Jisung looked back at you with a gleeful smile before hopping straight in, immediately cuddling up to your side and nuzzling his face in your neck. Minho, on the other hand, crossed his arms and raised a brow. “What are the chances I get my face smashed in with a guitar?”

Again, you bit back your amused smile and pondered. “Hmmm slim to none.” You declared with a nod.

“Oh just get in here, Minnie! It’s the least you could do for causing all of this!” Jisung said with a cute, child-like whine.

Minho’s face surrendered an endearing smile at his boyfriend and offered a sarcastic eye-roll before trudging over to the bed. He hesitated for a moment, but ultimately decided to take the spot on the other side of you, causing you to be squished by the men.

You melted when they both wrapped their arms around you and it wasn’t long before you were out like a light.

__________________________________________

You had only begun realizing how brazen you were being when you caught Seungmin glancing at you for the fourth time while he was driving you to class. Jisung had given Minho your phone number and Minho immediately created a group chat. However, you instantly regretted it once they began teasing you NON-STOP throughout the week.

Between Jisung’s innuendos and Minho’s provocative threats, you couldn’t get a moment’s peace from your blushing face and moist undergarments. That being said, you considered it a bit of payback to dress the way you had for the following class you had with the infuriating man.

Seungmin probably thought you hadn’t noticed his ogling, but he was honestly shit at being subtle. It was in the middle of autumn, but you disregarded this as you chose your outfit that morning.

You had worn some black thigh-high stockings with cute boots, but you were freezing in the rest of your outfit. Honestly it wasn’t TOO provocative, but it was also unlike your usual attire… Just like your last outfit when you were with them…

Your burnt-orange colored skirt came up to your waist so your black crop top only showed a sliver of your midriff. Plus, you had a cozy green sweater to keep you warm so… you looked normal right? Most girls wear barely anything and don’t bat an eyelash about it either.

But, it’s true that you usually wore a t-shirt and jeans sooo…

You were kind of nervous when Seungmin pulled up to the building and gave you a knowing smirk. “Have fun.” He lilted with an amused tone. You just narrowed your eyes at him in response and wordlessly stepped out of the car.

You didn’t know whether you wanted Minho to get there before or after you, but fate had apparently decided to fuck with you that day because, as you were walking to the front door, you witnessed Jisung kissing his boyfriend goodbye. You froze when you saw them, but their eyes immediately snapped to you when they separated.

You had to will yourself to move forward, but they made it difficult when their eyes widened and then simultaneously turned predatory once you began nearing them.

“It seems fate has a sense of humor, I never get here at the same time as you.” You mused as you stopped in front of them.

Jisung remained staring at you like you were his next meal, but Minho took a step closer to you and gave you a crooked smile. “Yeah, funny. You usually get here way later. Tell me, did something make you a bit eager to get here today? Hm?” His voice was a teasing melody as he cocked his head to the side with an evil smile.

Before you could even answer, Jisung also stepped closer and looked down at you menacingly. “I can’t imagine it would have been a quick process to look the way you do today. Did you have plans later on?” He mimicked Minho’s smile and you forced yourself to look blasé.

You scoffed and held your chin high. “Does it matter? Maybe I just wanted to put in an extra bit of effort today… there doesn’t have to be any particular reason…”

“I think there is, sweet thing…” Jisung’s eyes trailed down where he caressed your arm and you shivered from the touch.

You narrowed your eyes at Minho as he clicked his tongue. “Psh, sweet? The only sweet thing about her is…” He gave you a once over and tongued the corner of his mouth with a sly grin. “…the way she tastes…” You blushed furiously and quickly checked your surroundings to make sure there weren’t any prying ears.

You shoved his arm as the pair cackled and then wrapped your arms around yourself in your intense bashfulness.

Jisung immediately grabbed your hands to unravel you. “Oh don’t be shy darling. Besides, Minho has been non-stop talking to me about your tight, pretty little cu—“

“OKAY WELL SEE YOU LATER JISUNG!” You shouted as you quickly ran inside, their cackling fading behind you.

The first half of class was torture. You and Minho had gotten used to sitting across from each other in the circle and it remained that way. First, it was because you despised each other, now, it was so he could maintain eye contact with you to drive you crazy.

He was making threatening sex eyes at you the entire time as he kept ogling your body as if you were a whole goddamn snack. He was manspread the entire time, of course, and you weren’t able to force your way out of this one, your eyes were glued to him.

You lost track of time of how many times you licked your lips at the memory of last week and you smashed your legs together from the aching between your thighs. When it was break time, you bolted to get outside as soon as possible. Not to smoke this time, but to have some privacy.

Just as you expected, Minho was not far behind you as he strutted up to your normal spot on the side of the building. “Not smoking this time?”

You shook your head as you faced him. “Nah, I decided to quit again. Apparently they’re bad for you.” You said nonchalantly as you shrugged.

“You don’t say?” He mused sarcastically. “Well that’s a relief, you look so much better without that stick in your mouth.” You sputtered a laugh as you felt that had a double meaning. He caught on quickly and he flashed a grin. “However, as for other kinds of sticks…”

He left his sentence hanging as he stepped closer to you, causing your heart to beat out of your chest. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he brushed your hair off the side of your neck. He DID, however, look away when he leaned in and whispered with his lips grazing your ear.

“Jisungie thought it would be a good idea to remind you of our time together last week.” You sucked in a breath when his hand wrapped around you underneath your sweater and snuck up the back of your crop top to splay his hand over the bare skin there. He placed a gentle kiss on your jaw and breathed into your ear again. “But I’m sure you’ve had it on your mind as much as we have.”

You shivered when you felt his other hand slide down your thigh to play with the hem of your skirt. You turned your head to speak a hair's breadth away from his lips. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. All I know is that some jackass has been eye-fucking me all morning.”

You gasped when he abruptly pressed you against the wall with his body, his eyes burning holes through you with the fury in his gaze. You felt his hand sneak up underneath your skirt and played with the edge of your panties, drawing out an embarrassing whine from you. “Would you rather have another form of fucking?”

You took a small glance at your surroundings to make sure the coast was clear and snaked your hand between your bodies and cupped his groin, earning a stifled groan through his bitten lip. “I know what you would rather have…” He pursed his lips in frustration and your body acted before your brain did.

You abruptly dragged the man around the corner out of sight of potential onlookers and smashed your lips against his, proceeding to press against his growing bulge, feeling his surprised gasp against your face. You whimpered when his hand plunged underneath your panties and delicately ran his fingers through your sopping folds. Your leg automatically wrapped around him to bring him closer and he didn’t beat around the bush. He SHOVED two fingers inside you and began to furiously finger-fuck you as your hands fumbled with the button on his jeans.

“Fuck, you’d be ruined if I had a condom on me right now…” He growled against your lips before moving to devour your neck.

You finally managed to wiggle your hand in his pants to get ahold of his cock to begin stroking it. “Shit who said we needed a condom? I’m clean and have a birth control implant. Unless you and Ji have any problems…”

His entire body froze against you and he retrieved his head from the crook of your neck to look at you with black, dilated eyes. He took a moment before he completely released you and completely freed his cock from his jeans, positioning himself in front of you to lift you up and wrap your legs around his waist.

You let out a surprised moan when he, without any further notice, moved your panties to the side and started viciously fucking you. “Fuck! Why’d you have to say that?”

Your arms frantically wrapped around his neck to claw at his back as you buried your face in his neck. “Shit…” You breathed. “F-fuck, we’re g-going to be l-late for class!” You were already nearing your peak from his ministrations with his fingers earlier, but the way he filled you up so deliciously had you shaking and whimpering for release.

“Fuck baby, I don’t need long… Just imagine I was fucking you into Hannie rather than this stupid wall…” As he said this, his thrusts sped up and his power increased tenfold. Just the thought of Jisung going at it from behind sent you over the edge and you shook thoroughly as you tried to keep your resulting cry of pleasure to the minimum as to not alert the surrounding area.

Your flooding of his rock hard dick made him violently twitch and soon you felt immense heat filling you to the brim. His feral grunt was almost sexy enough to make you cum again, but he quickly pulled out and moved your panties over to contain most of his seed.

Without further ado, he grabbed your hand and dragged you back to class while you used your other hand to fix yourself up to hopefully not look like you just got dicked down.

__________________________________________

Next week was Minho’s final day in class and they wanted to throw a party at their place which you, of course, readily accepted. In the meantime, those men tortured you. You didn’t have the time to see them, but they made sure to keep you interested. Their texts, calls, and video calls always had you blushing (even though you would never admit it) and halfway through the week, they decided to “surprise” you.

You were just going to bed after a long day of work and you had just finished showering before climbing into bed. You had a habit of going to sleep naked due to the fact you hated your skin feeling restricted as you slept.

However, when you saw you were receiving a video call from the infamous men, you panicked. You turned on your bedside lamp and shoved yourself deep under the covers, but you answered with the camera facing the ceiling anyway.

“How am I not surprised you guys would call right as I climbed in bed?” You spoke into your phone over the speaker, camera still showing nothing but your ceiling fan.

The men were smiling when you answered, but when they saw your end of the screen, they frowned in confusion. “Why can’t we see your face?” Minho said with an aggressive complaint.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his raised voice, so you did what you always did to Minho, argued back at him. “Why do you need to see my face? It’s not like I’m the one who decided to video call!” You noticed that they were laying in bed and neither of them had a shirt on. Your mouth watered at the sight of them. Man, I’m a desperate bitch…

Minho was about to fight back, but Jisung cut in. “We video called because we wanted to see our favorite girl! We miss you, gorgeous!” Your heart warmed and you held back the giddiness that flowed through your veins.

“Well I’m not so sure about the gorgeous part. There’s a reason I’m not showing my face.” They both looked perplexed and you sighed. “I just showered and I don’t have any makeup on and I look like a wet rat with my hair still damp.”

Both of them went silent and you saw their faces simultaneously turn feral. Minho suddenly brought the phone closer. “Show your goddamn face right the fuck now.”

You shivered at his tone and you peeked at his face once again to witness the predatory expression taking over his beautiful face. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes to compose yourself and then stared at the phone. “Why should I?” You said in a defiant tone.

Jisung laughed incredulously and looked at his boyfriend. “You weren’t kidding, she is a stubborn one.”

Minho smirked and licked his lips. “Because if you don’t, we are coming over ourselves and I will pound on the door loud enough to wake any and every neighbor on your entire block.” He grumbled in a low, threatening tone.

“Trust me, baby. He will absolutely do it.” Jisung said as he held the camera in its original position.

You cringed at the thought and you, indeed expected he would follow up on that threat.

You sighed and tentatively grabbed your phone and scooted a bit under the covers in hopes they couldn’t see much but, unfortunately, you had to use a hand to hold your phone up, showing your bare shoulder and collarbone. Once you tried to fix your hair (unsuccessfully), you brought your camera into focus on your face, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

You didn’t necessarily have self-confidence issues, you just felt exposed and foreign in this state when people see you like this.

You braced yourself for their reactions, but you couldn’t prepare enough to see them sit up in excitement. Jisung spoke first. “My god, you’re so gorgeous…”

“Why the fuck would you hide this?”

“Why do you even wear makeup?”

“Fuck, I want us to wreck you so bad right now…”

“Wanna make you squirm underneath us, baby”

Your eyes widened at their onslaught of comments and you hoped they didn’t notice your blush. “I… um… I don’t really know what to say…” You shifted the arm holding your phone a bit and Jisungs eyes went wide.

“Baby girl… What are you hiding under all those covers?” His voice was sly and his smirk, amused.

Minho leaned in closer to get a better look. “Fuck, show us the rest…” He breathed.

“For me babydoll?” Jisung pouted, but somehow it was sexy as fuck and you didn’t have it in you to refuse.

You bit your lip and held the phone a bit further out, pulling down the covers and revealing your top half. “All. Of. It.” Minho emphasized with a deep growl. You just didn’t give two fucks anymore, seeing as you were already turned on and heated. So, without further ado, you just threw the entirety of your covers off of you and rubbed your horny thighs together as you showed them yourself in your most vulnerable state.

“Fuck…” They both said in tandem and you licked your lips.

When you angled the phone back up to your face, you now allowed your breasts to be within view. “Well? It’s nothing you guys haven’t seen before…” You bit your lip. These guys really did have such a strong affect on you.

“Well, yeah. But knowing we are all bare in our beds gives us… thoughts…” Jisung hinted and you felt an odd sensation run through you with this knowledge. You shifted your thighs again.

“...Thoughts?” You inquired (even though you definitely already knew what they were thinking).

“Yeah… I might be thinking about a certain canoodling during class you two had last week… and how hyung gave me EVERY. SINGLE. DETAIL.” You blushed at the thought. And Jisung definitely noticed. “Did you cum to the thought of me too, baby? Wish I was there helping hyung?”

You bit your lip and nodded, the ache in between your legs becoming more and more apparent.

“I didn’t just tell him, little girl. I showed him. I fucked him right up against the wall just like I did with you…” You closed your eyes at Minho’s words and a hint of a whimper sneaked out through your vocal cords. “Would you like to see that? Want to watch me ruin Hannie the way I did to you?”

Your eyes flew open and you frantically nodded your head, too lost in the moment to realize how vulnerable you were being.

“Well… what will you do to convince us, beautiful? Can you touch yourself for us baby? Let us watch you pleasure yourself to the thought of us?” Jisung’s words were like butter and you felt your body melt into submission.

You didn’t say anything, but you let your actions speak for you. You kept the camera on your face, but you slid your unoccupied hand down between your legs and closed your eyes with an appreciative sigh once you finally got the much needed stimulation to your aching clit.

“Don’t be selfish, girl. Set down your phone so we can see all of you.” Minho’s domineering tone had you boiling in defiance.

“Maybe I would be inclined to if I saw some action on your end too!” You whined, failing to sound as stern as you intended to.

Luckily, Jisung was more receptive to your demands as he chuckled and slowly lowered their covers. Both men sported fully erect cocks and Minho had already been stroking his. You sucked in a breath and bit your lip. “So? Will you show us now, baby?” Jisung muttered in a sultry tone that had you scrambling to set up your phone.

It was kind of difficult to angle it accurately on your bunched up duvet, but you eventually got it stable enough to lay back again. The phone was propped up at the foot of the bed between your legs that way they could see both your face and your hungry cunt.

“Oh fuck…” Minho mumbled as he switched from stroking his own dick to begin stimulating Jisung’s. You watched as Jisung tensed up with hooded eyes and scrambled to take Minho in his hand, pumping him in time with Minho’s slow strokes.

You whined and you moved your fingers to spread open your pussy lips, exposing your leaking entrance. “Fuck, such a good girl…” Jisung breathed. With your hole still on display, you took another finger and started teasing the center of it, threatening yourself with the thought of finally relieving your needy pussy.

“Minho… C-can I watch you prep Hannie? I-if that’s okay with you, Ji…?”

Minho sported an evil grin and Jisung raised a brow. “You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you baby? You want to watch hyung get me off while I watch you, yeah?” You nodded frantically as you went back and forth from playing with your clit to teasing your entrance. “Of course you can watch, baby…” Jisung sweetly replied and shifted to sit between Minho’s legs before setting the phone down in a similar position to your own, that way you could see his tight hole on display as Minho’s arms instinctively wrapped around his boyfriend.

Minho squeezed Jisung tight and placed a wet kiss on his jaw before leaning over and rummaging their drawer for some lube. Jisung seemed a bit tentative, but he eventually leaned back against his lover and spread his legs for the camera.

You couldn’t hold back your stifled moan when you saw Minho’s slick fingers coat Jisung’s rim with the warmed substance.

They both locked their eyes onto the screen when they heard you and they both had very different reactions. Minho looked like a cocky motherfucker and he grinned with a heavy-jawed smirk as he tongued the corner of his lip. All the while, he brought his other slick hand around the younger and started stroking the man’s leaking cock. Jisung, on the other hand, had his brows turned in while he fluttered his lashes and bit his lip, eyes turning a bit hazy from the amount of stimulation he was receiving.

As soon as you saw the tip of Minho’s finger slip in, you quickly plunged your finger into your own drooling entrance. You witnessed Jisung’s white knuckles as they gripped onto Minho’s sturdy thighs and Jisung groaned when his hole had finally swallowed the full finger and, in turn, caused you to repeat the action on your end.

“Fuck you’re so pretty, Ji…” You sighed wistfully and Jisung smirked at you lazily.

“I could say the same about you, gorgeous…” He huffed before Minho’s, now moving, finger pulled a moan out of him.

“And what about me?” Minho hissed as he continued to pump out noises from the younger.

You let out a breathless scoff. “You boost your own ego enough. You don’t need my help, Min.”

You suddenly heard a whine come from Jisung’s mouth and you realized Minho retreated both of his hands from Jisung’s body. “That’s too bad, it seems you don’t need me then, huh?”

His smirk was all-knowing. He already knew you wanted both of them in this whole fucked up situation and he was all too willing to play dirty. Jisung looked back at you with pleading eyes and you didn’t have the heart to rob him of this.

“Fine.” You started. And he propped his chin up on Jisung’s shoulder with a smug smile. You took a breath and looked down. “Minho…” You looked back up at the camera with hooded lids and became dead serious. “You are so beautiful I want to punch your face in…” He sat up again with an unamused demeanor. “But!” He narrowed his eyes at you. “You sometimes have a certain expression when you look at Jisung… or maybe even me… and I instantly want to drop to my knees for you.”

Jisung bit back his smile and then craned his neck back to look at his hyung’s reaction. The elder tried not to react, but you could tell his pupils were more dilated and his cheeks and ears were a bright red.

You really enjoyed that look on him.

And what else could you do other than milk it? “Minho…” You whined with intense breathless words as you slightly arched your back. “Please touch Jisungie for me? I want to see your cock fill him up. So. Badly.” You almost sounded too overboard on the needy side, but you drove the point home when you inserted two fingers in yourself and threw your head back with a loud moan (that Seungmin most likely heard).

You then heard a cry from Jisung and you whipped your head up to see that Minho had also inserted two of his fingers into Jisung’s hole and began scissoring him open. You replicated the action on yourself and whimpered. Jisung was breathing heavily and his brows were still turned inwards, but he stared at you with such passion that you could almost feel the heat radiating off of him in waves all the way across the other end of the call.

“Fuck, just like that beautiful, do to yourself what hyung does to me… feel what I feel baby girl.” Jisung groaned and he tilted his head with a euphoric expression when Minho started kissing and biting his way up Jisung’s neck.

Just the pure eroticism of everything you saw on that screen was bringing you way more pleasure than if you were just watching regular porn.

“Shit, Sungie… I wish I was there to suck you off at the same time…” Your comment made the two men groan and Jisung sucked in a breath when Minho began to wiggle a third finger in.

“M-me too, baby…” He managed to squeak out in response.

You steadily became needy enough to need more. They both watched you with confusion written across their faces as you shimmied over to the side of your bed to reach your nightstand. When you came back into frame with a little pink dildo, they both cursed.

“M-Minnie I’m ready…” Jisung blurted in a flurry and began sitting up, suddenly emptying himself of the elder’s fingers.

“You sure, jagi?” Minho asked tentatively as he held onto the boy’s hips. Han just nodded his head with a whine and lifted himself up with Minho’s assistance to hover over his cock. “Do it with me, baby girl. Fuck yourself with us.” Minho replied huskily to you and your small whimpers of impatience.

You sat in full view of the sinful sight of Jisung slowly sinking down on Minho’s leaking and over-eager erection as you, too, began penetrating yourself.

Minho hissed at the feeling of finally being stimulated and he dropped his head down on Han’s shoulder. Jisung, however, went slack-jawed and his chest began palpitating from his heavy breathing. And you? You saw this as you penetrated yourself and breathed out a hundred expletives as you failed to match their speed and immediately shoved the toy all the way up in you.

You heard a deep chuckle come from Han’s mouth and you looked at him like you wanted to eat him. “Eager, baby? Imagine how much better you would feel if that was my dick inside you instead…” Jisung’s voice was breathless as he spewed his delicious lewdness and you could only respond with a needy whine.

After a few experimental pumps, just to make sure Han was comfortable, Minho wrapped his arms around the other man and started fucking up into him. Jisung bounced to meet his thrusts and the entire time you were fucking yourself, you spewed out filth and rushed whimpers of their names, the men on the other end growling yours in return.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak and you came with a loud cry. “FuckfuckfuckMinhoJisungfuuuck!!!” You emptied your lungs completely and felt lightheaded when you came back down.

Luckily, when you regained focus, Minho’s face was scrunched and violent as he slammed Jisung down on his cock. Jisung looked completely fucked out as his head was lolled to the side and his knuckles were white on his knees as he spread his legs.

Minho pumped into Han a few more times before you saw a strand of white shoot in the air and land on Jisung’s chest. His cry of pleasure was very much like your own when he climaxed. However, Minho growled like a feral tiger as his hips stuttered and he finally came deep inside the younger, teeth finding their mark on Han’s shoulder to stifle his moans (that were still very much audible).

For a moment, all that was heard was heavy breathing. You closed your eyes momentarily to collect yourself. Yeeeah you were definitely going to need another shower. When you opened your eyes again, your heart swelled.

The two men were gazing into each other’s eyes with loving smiles on their faces, giggling and kissing periodically. It was such a heartwarming thing sight that you felt a smile cross your features. Until it dropped.

What the fuck were you doing?

These men were each other’s whole lives. They were so obviously madly in love that anyone within a twenty meter radius could sense it. Seeing them together felt right. Seeing them together screamed “SOULMATES”.

Who were you?

You had no place here. You were just someone they met that would be willing enough to spice up their love life. A pawn.

A pawn.

Made to be used and discarded. Always second best or worse. To them. To your ex. To… anyone.

The heartwarming feeling you had turned sour and you suddenly felt like you were going to be sick. Now, feeling like a whore and plaything, you felt extremely vulnerable.

You scrambled to cover yourself and they whipped their heads to the screen, smiles turning into perplexed frowns. “You alright, pet?” Minho inquired.

You felt your eyes water and you cursed yourself for being so weak. You ‘accidentally’ knocked over your phone so they saw nothing but black when you hollered over to the speaker. “Y-yeah! I, uh. I gotta go! See you guys next week!”

“Wai—“

“Are yo—“

They both said simultaneously right as you ended the call.

You were ashamed to say that you cried on the shower floor that night.

__________________________________________

The texting the week after that was minimal. You used working as an excuse to avoid talking too much and you told them the other night’s abrupt departure was because Seungmin came to tease you about the noise.

That was… partially true… but he held off on doing that until the following morning.

You reassured their concerns about your attendance to the party for the next class just to get them off your back. After all, you still did consider them as… friends? Yeah, sure, friends. So you didn’t mind celebrating Minho’s last day, especially with other people around to mingle with to… distract yourself with…

You arrived to class last-minute in hopes of avoiding chatting with the pair. However, as luck would have it, when Seungmin drove up to drop you off, they appeared to be waiting for you.

You internally groaned and gave Seungmin the stink-eye when he waggled his eyebrows at you suggestively.

As you stepped out of the car, you gave the two (stupidly gorgeous) men a meek smile. They stepped towards you eagerly and Jisung smiled with worried eyes as Minho looked down at you cautiously.

“Hey, guys. We’re gonna be late for class! Let’s go, Min!” You felt broken seeing them again and spoke as if you were being suffocated and, as you passed them, you felt a hand grasp your wrist and spin you around.

“Look here, you little shit. You’ve been acting weird all fucking week. I’m not buying your bullshit act, so you need to tell us what the fuck is wrong with you.” Minho spat at you, inches from your face. Fuck he’s so hot. You wanted those lips so bad…

Wait. No! Stop stupid horny brain!

You yanked your wrist free from his grip and took a step back, fury blooming on your face. “Me? What the fuck is wrong with you? I said I was fine! You’re the one making a big deal out of it!” You adjusted your coat, feeling a bit more comfortable in the cool air after getting so heated. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a class that I am now LATE for!”

And with that, you spun around and marched inside, leaving a pissed off Minho and a distressed Jisung behind.

Other than hiding in the bathroom during the class break, Minho glared at you the entire time as you pretended not to notice.

__________________________________________

After fleeing at the end of class in almost a humorous fashion to avoid talking to them, you jumped into Seungmin’s car and demanded him to get a fucking move on.

Later that evening, you decided to forgo the dressing up for just simply wearing what you did that morning, jeans and a baggy graphic t-shirt with a cute image of Tanjiro and Nezuko on the front.

That’s not necessarily seductive… right?

You decided it would be rude to show up to the party (Yes you were going! You promised!) without contributing anything, so you had Seungmin stop on the way there to buy a bottle of Jim Beam and a two liter bottle of coke to take with you.

As Seungmin stopped in front of the (pretty fancy) apartment building, you checked the address on your phone again. “Yep, I guess this is the one…” You sighed, grabbing your bag of drinks and stepping out of the car.

However, before you could walk away, Seungmin rolled down the window and hollered at you. “Hey! If you need me, for anything, let me know and I’ll be here in a flash. Okay?”

You rolled your eyes and waved your hand nonchalantly. “Yeah yeah, okay mom. I’ll call if I need to, just don’t stay up on my account.” You chuckled.

He smirked as he shifted the car into drive. “Have fun with your boooyfrieeeends~” He lilted before he drove off.

You huffed and muttered to yourself in frustration. “They’re not my boyfriends…” You grumbled as you marched to the intercom. You took a breath before you buzzed the right apartment number and, oddly enough, you were immediately let in.

You found yourself subconsciously running your hands through your hair and straightening your clothes when you knocked on their front door, quickly catching the action and kicking yourself for it.

Do NOT be flirtatious. Do NOT be alluring. Do NOT be sugges–

You froze when the door opened to a breathtaking display of the two men. They looked absolutely… natural? Comfortable and casual in their normal clothes they also wore this morning. I mean, I GUESS not everyone dresses up for parties. But… where is everyone?

As you ogled their, still very gorgeous, appearances, Minho spoke up in a stern voice. “What are you doing here?” You slightly deflated and looked at the ground. Wow, was Minho really that petty to not want you there anymore?

You scoffed with a bitter smile. “Well I’m sorry I didn’t know I was uninvited!” You held out the bag of drinks and shoved it into Minho’s hands. “I got this for you for your last day. Bye.” You spat with venom in your tone. Right as you turned and felt the angry waterworks prickling at your eyes, you felt a pair of arms spin you around and wrap you up into their owner’s embrace.

“Of course you’re still invited, silly. We just thought you weren’t going to want to come…” Jisung said from where his face was smooshed into your neck from the hug.

You squeezed him back. “Of course I wanted to come! I promised!”

“Then what the fuck was that shit this morning?!” Minho barked at you from the door.

You glared at him when Jisung released you. “That was me not wanting some asshole to grill me on useless nonsense!”

“That’s bullish—“

“Oh will you two stop it! She’s here now so let's just get the hell on with it!” Jisung interjected while brushing past Minho and dragging you in along behind him.

Their place was nice, like, really nice. Like, shit, what do these men do?! You knew 3RACHA was successful, but damn…

You also noticed the very obvious emptiness of it. “Where is everyone? I’m I early or something?”

“What do you mean?” Jisung hollered from the kitchen as he snatched the drinks away from his boyfriend to start preparing some glasses for the three of you.

“The party? Minho’s graduation from psycho class? Ring a bell?” You raised a brow, still avoiding eye contact with the grumpy elder that stood off to the side with his arms crossed.

Jisung looked confused momentarily before he showed a moment of realization and started cackling. “Oh sweetie! When we said party, we meant only the three of us!” He giggled wildly as he continued making the drinks and you glimpsed at Minho smiling adoringly at his giggling lover. You felt that odd shift in your gut again as you witnessed it. “By the way, babe.” Jisung added. “Thanks for bringing drinks, you’re the best!”

When Jisung handed you your drink, you hummed in response and quickly turned from the kitchen to hide your worried brows and wandered around the wide expanse of their home. “You guys must have thought my place was a hovel compared to this! Look how high the ceilings are!” You exclaimed as you periodically guzzled down huge gulps of your drink.

“You want a tour, baby?” Jisung said with a sultry tone, suddenly right behind you, leaning close to your ear. The feeling gave you shivers and you quickly took a step or two away to fight off the feeling that the sinful voice brought to you.

“Uh-uhh not right now! Um how about we get on to the festivities! What did you guys have planned for tonight?”

Minho raised a brow from where he was cautiously following and leaned up against the wall. “What exactly were you wanting to do?”

You bit your lip and felt the need to escape the intimidating glare. You quickly walked back into the living room and turned back to them. “Movie? Movies are always good!” You made yourself at home as you plopped down on their couch and reached for the TV remote.

Before you grabbed it, a hand grabbed you. “We have a TV in our bedroom. With surround sound too. The bed is nice and comfortable in there.” Minho looked like he was testing you as he narrowed his eyes and grabbed your wrist a bit tighter, face inching closer all the while.

You subtly tried to pull away. “I-It’s fine! I like it in here! It’s very spacious!” You grabbed his hand to remove it, but, even with the all the strength you harbored, his arms and hands were banded with thick muscles that were unrelenting. “Minho! What the fuck? Let go of me!”

“Minnie? What’s going on?” Jisung said in a soothing voice as he sat his drink down on the coffee table.

“That’s what I’d like to fucking know. What, exactly, is wrong? You’ve been barely speaking to us, desperately avoiding looking at us, and yet you still came here tonight! Are you just here to string us along?!”

You felt your blood boil and you stood up in a flare and the fury of your muscles finally ripped free of his grasp. “AND WHAT ABOUT ME, HUH?!” You shouted back at him, venom dripping from every syllable and making Jisung jolt in surprise. “Who the fuck is stringing who along here?! Because the way I see it, I’m just here as a fuck buddy to spice up your relationship!”

Minho was the one to look befuddled this time and neither one of them breathed a word.

You continued. “You heard my fucking pitiful story in class and decided it would be fun to coerce me into letting you and your boyfriend use me while I was still ‘weak and vulnerable’ and would be malleable enough to be convinced to fuck you both!” You scoffed a sarcastic laugh. “So why the fuck am I here? It’s obvious to anyone that you two are madly in love! While I’ve become a goddamn sex doll that’s to be used and discarded when you’re done with me! I am here because I AM weak!”

You felt fresh tears roll down your face and the men looked gobsmacked.

“I’m a fucking weak-ass whore that didn’t want to say goodbye!...” You sobbed at the painful word.

It was silent for a long while before Minho steeled his face and took a step towards you. “Min, wait…” Jisung said while putting his hand on the elder’s arm to stop him.

However, Minho easily stepped out of his grasp and came toe-to-toe with you. He looked down at your pitiful, damp, and flushed pout with a stone-cold expression. “Have you been fucking any men other than us?” You shook your head no, but maintained eye contact. “And have we ever said that this was just a fling?” You could only look down this time, but it was quickly turned up again by a gentle finger under your chin. “Then why in the fresh hell do you think you’re a whore?”

Your face turned doe-eyed and he released you so Jisung could also come and reassure you as well. “We never thought for a single second about leaving you. Why would you even think such a thing?” He looked at you sullenly.

Minho caught your attention again when he wiped your tears with his thumb. “This is exclusive, baby. We want you equally as much.” Your eyebrows raised and he smirked. “Even with all your pissed off brattiness.”

Jisung stepped forward and wiped the tears from the other cheek. “It might not exactly be… conventional, but would you be willing to give us a chance to date you? Please?” Lord, how could a man be so incredibly sexy and yet so adorable at the same time?

You offered a small smile to the men and gave a small nod, Han abruptly picking you up and swinging you around. When he sat you back down on your feet, your attention jerked to Minho when he roughly grabbed you by the waist. And growled against your lips. “And if you ever–”

“Oh shut the fuck up for once!” You halted him with irritation and smashed your lips against his to shut him up.

Once you knew he would drop it, (indicated by how he hungrily grabbed at you) you reached out a hand to grab the younger and transferred your lips to Han’s. He immediately responded and Minho moved around to circle you from the back while Jisung moved to face you, lips still attached along the way. You breathed a contented sigh when Jisung’s tongue met your own just as Minho began kissing his way down your neck.

It was when you felt both of them beginning to sport a semi that pressed into the front and back of you that you broke the kiss. “I think I want to see the bedroom now…” You hinted breathlessly as Jisung smiled against your lips and Minho mimicked the movement on the skin of your shoulder.

Without another word, Jisung picked you up to wrap your arms and legs around his body, and quickly led you further into their home.

__________________________________________

“Fuck! Yes! Oh GOD yes!!! Don’t stop Ji, please!” The men had you spread eagle on their bed and had been trading you back and forth for what felt like hours. The stamina these men had was outrageous to you and they had you shaking profusely after all of the orgasms they gave you.

Jisung currently had his face in your cunt, sipping and licking out both his and Minho’s combined cum from deep inside you. Minho, on the other hand, was straddled across your abdomen facing you, furiously fucking your titties like they made up his own personal fleshlight. “That’s it baby, hold them nice and tight for me–ngh…” Minho grunted as he sped up. You used your hands to push your breasts even tighter around him and he groaned.

You broke out in a sob when Jisung brought you, yet again, to another orgasm that night. Your voice was hoarse from both the cries of pleasure and the way they had fucked your throat earlier, but you were too blissed out to care.

With Minho being all you could see (and, fuck, what a sight it was…), you weren’t expecting it when you felt Jisung slowly slip his dick in you once again. How did these men manage to keep getting hard after coming so many times?

Indeed, there was cum absolutely everywhere. Your bodies, the bed, pillows and your hair had at least one or all three of your guy’s sexual fluids on them. You didn’t even care at this point.

At the end of the night, after they cleaned you and your swollen pussy in a warm bath and then laid you in a freshly-made bed, all you could think about was how grateful you were to get that stupid court order.

__________________________________________

If you’ve made it this far thank you for reading! I know Minho isn’t a bad person, it’s just reeeally hot when he gets mad. 😈 Please let me know what you think in the comments!

Please like, follow, and share! Thanks baby stays! 😘

And of course my squad:

@lyramundana

@channieandhisgoonsquad

@sweetracha

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angelicyoongie · 4 months

Text

lovesick (XIII)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 6k — warnings: yandere, obsessive behaviour, other content that may be triggering. — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late.

Previous - Next

You flip to another page in Jungkook's textbook. You absentmindedly worry your bottom lip between your teeth, concentration high, as you look for any information that might be helpful for his assignment.

Despite the pleading look he gave you when he asked for your assistance, you know that he would be able to handle the paper perfectly fine on his own. It feels like another lifetime ago now, but you do remember how quickly he finished up the shared assignment you had in Ms. Eun's class. Jungkook had practically written the whole thing in just a matter of days.

But, even though you know you're not needed, it's still nice to feel included; like you're doing something that matters instead of just wasting away in the cabin. As long as you ignore the crackling fireplace next to you, you can almost imagine that you're back on campus, working with Jungkook in the library like you did back then. You can't even begin to describe how much you miss doing things that aren't just playing house.

The thought makes a burst of irritation flash through you as you turn to another page, causing you to bite down too hard on the soft flesh of your lip.

Jungkook yelps on the other side of the table as he feels the sting, instinctively touching his mouth in an attempt to soothe the pain.

"Y/n, are you okay?" He gives you a worried look.

You release your lip with a soft pop, chuckling awkwardly to hide your souring mood as you say, "Sorry, I think I was concentrating too hard."

Jungkook furrows his brow with a low hum, eyes lingering on your mouth. You feel like you can see the thought that forms on his face, his eyes lighting up as he gets an idea.

"Ah!" He makes a small noise, quickly clambering to his feet, "I think I know something that can help. I'll be right back!"

"Sure," You nod. You plop your head back to rest on the couch behind you, watching out of the corner of your eye as Jungkook hurries to the kitchen.

You let out a soft sigh when he's out of sight, the sounds of him opening and closing different cupboards fading into the background as you stare up at the ceiling. The past week has been weird. You don't want to call it unexpected based on what caused it, but the last seven days have been surprisingly nice at the cabin. The boys have started giving your tight leash some slack, allowing you to stay in a room alone if they need to leave it to grab something. It's not for more than a few minutes at the time but with how they've been constantly watching you for a month, it's been a more than welcome change. They've given you a sliver of trust and you're finding yourself desperate to hold on to it.

You know what the reason behind it is, of course, you'd be a fool not to.

The shift was notable in the air that morning you awkwardly shuffled out of Jimin's room, the back of your neck sore from the hickeys he had proudly decorated your skin with. You felt awfully exposed by the six pairs of eyes that scanned you from top to bottom, burning with jealousy as Jimin came up behind you to plant a wet kiss over one of his marks. Namjoon's eye had twitched as he pulled back, Jimin no doubt sporting a smug smile behind your back.

It had only taken a second before Hoseok had stormed over to wrap you up in a hug, pulling you away from Jimin and over to the rest in the common room. They felt like territorial puppies with the way all of them made sure they got to touch you and hug you as if they were leaving their own marks behind too. As you were passed between arms you kept catching them looking at your neck, their eyes longing. It was only when all the attention started getting a little overwhelming that you ran away to the bathroom, escaping under the guise of needing a shower.

You hadn't had much time to think about what happened with Jimin until you came face to face with yourself in the mirror, the evidence of the night before staring right back at you. Leaning on the sink, you studied how your skin proudly displayed the marks left behind by Jimin's lips, how your eyes held a shine that you hadn't seen in a long while. Your soul and by extension, your body, was glowing in the aftermath of your intimacy with Jimin.

Guilt climbed its way up your throat so fast it made you gag. You knew that spending the night with Jimin – letting him touch you like that – was terrible, that you were letting yourself down by giving in, but even then you couldn't find it in yourself to hate what had happened. You didn't feel disgusted and that in itself made you feel even more ashamed. How could you not feel bad about letting your stalker, one of your kidnappers, get you off like that? How could you like it? You could blame the bond all you wanted but perhaps it was time to face the fact that you were just weak; easily broken by the connection you had always craved.

You rub your forehead with a sigh.

Jungkook is humming a low tune in the kitchen, the sound of crinkling plastic accompanying it as he pours something into a bowl.

You can mull the situation over all you want but you doubt you'll ever get a definitive answer. What you do know is that there is no use denying that your night with Jimin didn't change anything – for them and you. Despite your best efforts, you are starting to grow fond of them and as much as it pains you to admit, you doubt that it'll be the only time you let any of them touch you. Jimin's touch felt right, good, and you're tired of feeling lonely and isolated.

You think the others have noticed your wavering will, their affections increasing in turn. They have slowly been testing your boundaries, stretching them thinner and thinner day by day. You've come to expect the hands that slip under your shirt when someone leans in for a hug, warm fingertips caressing your waist and back as they hold you close. They let their touches linger longer too, gauging how long you'll allow it before you start to grow uncomfortable. Hoseok and Seokjin have taken a particular shine to resting their hand possessively on your thigh whenever they're seated beside you, the placement inching a little higher every time. Even so, there's still some resemblance of respect in their actions, in how they always stop whenever you show signs of discomfort. It's obvious they're impatient to share the same kind of intimacy with you as Jimin did, but they seem to understand that letting you come to them on your own terms is the best option.

You lift your head as Jungkook returns from the kitchen, straightening yourself up as he rounds the table to plop down next to you on the ground.

"Here!" He exclaims as he places a bowl in front of you, filled with a colourful variety of your favourite kind of candy. "I brought the chewy gummies you like! If you chew on those then you won't hurt your lip if you get distracted again."

The unexpectedly sweet gesture sends a rush of warmth through your body, your cheeks heating under Jungkook's adoring gaze. He reaches out, taking your hand in his. A small furrow appears between his brows, his lips pouting slightly as he says, "I saw you spacing out, are you okay?"

"I know you're upset about missing out on so many assignments but you don't have to be! Namjoon hyung has already applied for you to postpone your studies so you won't lose your spot. I'll help you catch up whenever it's time for you to go back, I promise."

You blink, taken aback that Namjoon had the forethought to do so. You figured you must've already been thrown out of your program by now, having missed out on too many important midterms in just your first month here. The fact that they cared enough about the after to do this for you, does give you a glimmer of hope that you will get out of this cabin at some point, that you will be able to rejoin society in some capacity once they deem you ready – broken – enough.

Jungkook has such an earnest expression on his face, like he genuinely believes they've done you a favour as he says, "Hoseok hyung even quit your job for you! You don't have to worry about anything, Y/n, we have it all under control."

They have it under control. The reality of the situation feels like a smack to the face. While their intentions may have been pure, at least in some aspects, the truth is that the boys have been slowly cutting off all and any ties you have to your old life. The implication is obvious; when you're allowed to go back, it won't be to anything you know.

"What about my apartment?" You ask.

What about my things? My life?

"We're keeping it for now. It would seem weird if we break the lease early when your friend–" Jungkook cuts himself off with a strangled cough, "I mean, the lease is up in a few months anyway! So Jimin hyung said it's better to just grab the rest of your stuff then."

Your stomach sinks at the off-handed mention of Heejun and Jaemin. They haven't been brought up at all since that night but you can tell it's only a matter of time before you'll have to reach out to them. The frown on Jimin's face seems to grow deeper with every return from his shift. It's obvious your friends have no intention of backing down and that Jimin is reaching the last of his rope trying to fend them off.

You still have no idea how you're going to successfully get Heejun to back off. You know your friends, you know they'll see right through you if you try to convince them that everything is fine, so how in the world are you going to accomplish this? It's not like you can ask any of the boys for help, either. You're in this alone and only you can keep them out of harm's way.

You startle slightly as Jungkook squeezes your hand, bringing you out of your ruminating thoughts.

"Do you know why I'm so close to Dasom noona?"

It takes you a second to realize that Jungkook has jumped to another topic – that he's talking about Ms. Eun. He's not subtle in his attempt to distract you from your troubled mind, but a small part of you appreciates it all the same. You've been thinking about Heejun and Jaemin so much that you feel like you've started to go backward, like the solution is slipping further away with every new idea that strikes you.

"No," You shake your head.

"You know I'm not close with my parents, that they didn't treat me well," Jungkook adverts his gaze down to your joined hands, "They have a lot of money, so my aunt and uncle always bent themselves backward trying to cater to their whims. They were desperate for something extra to fill their pockets with so they didn't care that their joy came from my suffering. I wasn't the son my parents wanted, I c-couldn't be. I wasn't perfect, so in their eyes, I wasn't worth the trouble. My parents' obvious distaste for me painted a target on my back and my family is known for being ruthless when there's something they want."

Jungkook lets out a bitter snort, jaw tense as he soothes his thumb across your knuckles. "The only one that made family gatherings bearable was my oldest cousin – he was too grown to be swayed by my parents. He was the only one that ever cared, the only one that never mocked me for my s-stutter."

The pain in Jungkook's voice is almost tangible. You can't imagine having your entire family turn against you just because of a small speech disorder; just because you're not cookie-cutter perfect. From the small glimpses Jungkook has shared from his past and tidbits of information you've overheard over the past months, you think it's safe to assume that Jungkook is part of the Jeon family – the ones that run the city, pulling strings behind the curtains without ever showing themselves on stage. They're the definition of old money, seemingly satisfied to have complete control over a decently sized city instead of fighting for power in the major ones. You don't doubt they would be willing to cut Jungkook loose if they notice his strings fraying, desperate to uphold their perfect image. It's clear the trauma of it all runs deep for Jungkook, his stutter always becomes more prominent whenever he brings up his past.

"Oh, Jungkook," You murmur, heart squeezing at how such a sweet person could be so horribly mistreated by his own family. It makes sense that Jungkook would latch on to the other boys so firmly, idolize them, if they're one of the few who have given him the love and comfort he never got at home.

Jungkook shifts a little closer at the sound of your voice, subconsciously seeking comfort as he picks at old wounds.

"When my parents finally cut me off and left me to fend for myself, I lived on my cousin's couch for a few months before Seokjin hyung hired me. My cousin had been dating Dasom noona for a little over a year already then, so we had briefly met a few times. I felt terrible for always being in their business but noona said she was always thrilled to see me – that I was like the younger brother she never had," Jungkook smiles softly.

"I moved out as quickly as I could to give them privacy but I never lost touch with them. They're part of the reason I'm able to attend university; they're covering half of my tuition. My cousin held a big speech about how he's investing in the future or something like that, he refused to take no for an answer," He lets out a fond snort, shaking his head. "I really care about them a lot. Hyung and noona are planning on getting married next year, but I hope she keeps her own name. She's too good to be a Jeon."

"They sound like they're pretty great," You murmur.

"They are," Jungkook agrees. His face suddenly brightens up as he seems to recall a particular memory, "I ran into my mom once, after everything that happened. I was out with hyung and noona, and Dasom noona was amazing at telling her all these half-truths that made it seem like I was thriving without my parents. She insulted my mother to her face over and over in the sweetest way possible and I doubt my mom realized what had even happened until she was already on her way home."

"Good," You allow your lips to quirk, "I'm glad she stood up for you."

"Yeah," Jungkook glances up at you, his big doe eyes staring you down for a second before he swallows thickly. His cheeks flush as he quietly admits, "Dasom noona was the first person I told about you. I know I shouldn't have but I didn't know how to approach you, so noona offered to help. She came up with the idea to pair us together for our project when I realized we were taking the same class."

"Please don't think too badly of her, she only wanted to help!" He hurries to add, gripping your hand tightly.

You know Ms. Eun – Dasom – to be impressive just from the many awards and accomplishments she has rightfully displayed around her office. But, listening to Jungkook sing her praises like this, it makes you realize that it takes someone very special to practically adopt your boyfriend's cousin as your own brother and love him as such. It's no wonder they seem so close, why Ms. Eun was so protective of him. Jungkook has a kind heart, she said. Even with his stalker tendencies, you know that to be true.

"Hyung and noona don't know about our.. uhm, c-circumstances, just that we're spending time together to work on our bond. The wedding will be happening in the spring and noona really wants us to come, if you want to. She's very excited to see you again!"

Spring. It's not that far away. Maybe four, five months? You have no idea what the boys have planned for you, but Ms. Eun's wedding might be one of your only chances at seeing people again. If you play your cards right, you might even be able to slip away. Escape.

You try to tamper down the rush of emotion that courses through you, the adrenaline urging you to go go go. Five months is a long time, long enough for you to break, to lose yourself entirely if you're not careful – but also enough to win their full trust.

"I would love to, Jungkookie," You grin, elated that you finally have something to look forward to. A small light at the end of this endless, dark tunnel.

A brilliant smile blooms on Jungkook's face at the use of his nickname, his eyes sparkling like tiny stars. He drops your hand in favour of wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest. It's comfortable, comforting even, to feel his muscular arms holding you steady, your chin hooked over his shoulder. Closing your eyes, you melt into Jungkook's embrace, hugging him back.

"Thank you, Y/n, that's going to make Dasom noona really happy," Jungkook murmurs. He tucks his face against the side of your neck, inhaling deeply before he sighs and says, "And it makes me very happy too."

You make a non-committal sound in return, stroking his back. It's not the wedding you're excited about but there is no way you're going to tell Jungkook that. You know how devastated he'll be once you run away, so you can spare him the hurt for now.

Jungkook isn't innocent in all of this but he isn't the mastermind behind everything either. His betrayal still stings and you think it always will, but the months you've spent here have slowly been mellowing it out, making it more bearable. Enough that you almost find yourself willing to forget about it.

"Can I ask you something?" Jungkook's voice is soft against your skin.

"Yeah," You say.

"That night with Jimin hyung, did you... did you kiss him? It's okay if you did! I'm just– curious."

The unexpected question gives you a slight pause. You figured Jimin would've told the others everything by now but it appears he hasn't. You're honestly surprised that vague is even a word in Jimin's dictionary.

"No, we didn't kiss."

"That's good. I mean–!" Jungkook pulls back, expression panicked as his gaze flits across your face. "Sorry, that's not what I meant. You're allowed to kiss Jimin hyung or any of the other hyungs if you want, it-it's not my business. Well, it is? But also not!"

"It's okay, Jungkook. What are you trying to say?" You ask, half-amused.

Jungkook shyly ducks his head, palms warm against your middle as he says, "Sorry. What I want to say is; Can I be the first to kiss you? Please? I-I'd really like that."

"Yeah," You breathe, the answer coming a little too easy, a little too quickly, "You can kiss me."

You can perhaps fool yourself into thinking it's all just a means to an end, but the way your heart skips a beat as Jungkook brings a hand up to cup your face, fingers shaking, doesn't lie. You want to kiss him. Perhaps it's your soulbond, perhaps it's just Jungkook, but a part of you likes him. Enough to make your heart flutter whenever he's near.

Jungkook always looks at you so reverently – like you're something precious. Something to be cherished.

You can't help it. You're only human, after all, seeking love and comfort where it's easily available to you.

He wets his lips, nervous, as he slowly begins to lean in. His brown eyes are glued to your mouth, wide and wondrous as if he can't believe that he's allowed to kiss you.

Your eyelids flutter shut as Jungkook thumbs across your cheek, tilting your head just so before he presses his lips to yours. The kiss is soft, warm, and Jungkook's mouth tastes faintly of something sweet. He moves his mouth cautiously against yours, testing the waters for what you'll permit.

There are no sparks that fly when your lips meet, no fireworks that ignite behind your closed eyes – but a steady warmth that slowly engulfs you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. It feels like part of you is coming home, like an important piece is slotting into place. Your head feels light and airy, heart thumping in your chest as if it's trying to reach out for Jungkook.

You clutch the back of his shirt, leaning into the kiss to deepen it. Jungkook lets out a soft whimper when you part your mouth, your tongue teasing at his bottom lip until he lets you in. You're not sure if it's Jungkook's breaths or yours that are shaky when you slip inside, your tongue brushing just the faintest touch against his.

"Y/n," Jungkook suddenly pulls back with a gasp.

You open your eyes to find Jungkook's screwed shut as if he's in pain, cheeks flushed as he quickly retreats his hands into his lap.

"Are you okay?" You hesitate to reach out to touch him again, having yanked them away at the sound of his gasp. You tentatively settle a hand on Jungkook's knee, seeing his nose scrunch as he lets out a labored breath.

"I'm fine," Jungkook awkwardly shifts away from your touch, his hands moving just enough to expose the bulge straining against his jeans.

"Oh," You clear your throat, heat rushing up the back of your neck. You barely kissed and Jungkook is this affected by it?

"Have you not?–"

"No. I've been with people before, it's j-just–" Jungkook shakes his head, biting his lip in embarrassment at having to clarify that he's not a blushing virgin, it's just that, "It's not the same. Everything feels more when it's with you."

"Jungkook," You breathe, a little stricken at the confession. It's hard for you to fathom that your kiss was that special. You don't feel the bond in the same way as they do, your feelings dulled by six other souls pulling you in their direction. For the first time since all of this started, you almost feel bad for them. You can almost understand their desperation in wanting to share something with you, even if they know you'll never fully feel the same way as they do.

"Please, um– Just excuse me for a minute? I-I need to go deal with this," Jungkook seems too lost in his embarrassment to have picked up on your mood shift. His eyes stay glued to the floor as he jumps up, hands awkwardly covering his crotch as he hurries to the bathroom.

You slump back down against the couch, dragging a hand over your face. You slow as you reach your mouth, lips tingling as you press on the soft flesh. You shouldn't have kissed him. You shouldn't have let Jimin touch you either. But it's too late to change any of it. And the matter of the fact is that you wanted it – them. It's exhausting having to war with yourself over every single decision you make, especially when you know that your control over them is very limited. You're only trying to make the best out of your situation, to keep everyone you love safe. Perhaps losing yourself in the process isn't the worst sacrifice.

You reach out for the gummies Jungkook left with a shake of your head, unwrapping one and popping it into your mouth. A sour-y-sweet filling is released as you bite into it, coating your tongue as you mindlessly chew on the candy. You swear you have tasted that slight strawberry flavour somewhere else, somewhere more recently. It's not until the gummy is gone and you swipe your tongue over your lips to catch the last of the sticky filling that it hits you.

Of course.

You throw your head back with a groan, muttering a curse under your breath.

It tastes like Jungkook.

The air in the common room feels suffocating. It's only a few days after your talk, and kiss, with Jungkook that you find yourself here; sitting on the couch in the middle of Seokjin and Taehyung, the rest spread out in a janky circle around the coffee table. Your gaze finds Jimin's as he steps forward, his expression carefully blank as he places your phone down in front of you. Your fingers twitch in your lap, itching to grasp onto the freedom that is now so close, yet so far away.

Seokjin seems to mistake the motion for nerves as he gently takes one of your hands in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. "It's going to be okay," He murmurs, mindful of the tense atmosphere.

They're all here to oversee your call to Heejun, to make sure you don't attempt to drop any hints of what's really going on. It's obvious that they don't like Jimin's idea, that they're scared of something going wrong, but it's the best option you have. Heejun will never stop looking for you unless you give him a reason to do so. This is easier for all of you and less messy. The boys will finally get rid of the one person that's trying to ruin their plans and you won't have to live with your friend's murder on your conscience. It's a fucked up, terrible, win-win.

"Whenever you're ready," Namjoon nods.

You reach out for your phone with a trembling hand, picking it up. It feels almost foreign to hold a phone after so long, your fingers clumsy as you type in your password. You balance it on your knee, your other hand still occupied by Seokjin. His grip is tight, tense, like he's hoping it'll prevent you from doing something stupid.

You brush your finger across the screen, aiming for the phone but the slight shake to it makes you accidentally touch your texts instead. Your stomach drops as you quickly scan down the list of unanswered messages; Heejun and Jaemin have sent you the most, but your friends at work are a close second. You can see that the last text in the group chat with your parents is from you – the message only a few days old. You're certain Namjoon is the one behind it.

You swallow thickly, heart aching, as you swipe out of the app. You miss your parents and your friends something terribly, but all of this is for them. You're the only one that can keep them safe.

You quickly switch over to your calls, thumb hovering over Heejun's name and the hundreds of missed calls next to it. Jaemin has placed nearly as many, as if Heejun figured you might pick up his boyfriend's calls instead of his. It's such a Heejun thing to do that it makes your chest tighten.

"Go on, angel," Seokjin says, squeezing your hand.

You suck in a deep breath as you tap his contact, quickly putting the call on speakerphone. Part of you hopes he won't pick up, that perhaps it'll spare your heart some pain if you don't hear his, but the much bigger part of you prays that he will. You need to hear that he's okay.

As the loud rings echo in the quiet cabin, your hands begin to clam up, your heart thumping harshly against your chest. It rings once, twice–

Heejun picks up, sounding breathless as he says, "Y/n?"

The sound of his voice wraps you in a chokehold. The glass walls you've built around yourself in an attempt to pretend that everything is fine come tumbling down in an instant, shattering into the silence.

"It's me," You rasp.

"Y/n, gods! What happened? Are you okay? Where are you, we've been worried sick that–" Heejun rambles quickly and the poor service you have out here in the woods struggles to pick up on all of his questions.

You glance up as you notice Jimin shifting on his feet, his previously blank expression growing more and more annoyed with every question Heejun fires off. Not good.

"Heejun," You cut him off, barely more than a whisper, but your best friend goes quiet immediately, "I'm okay."

You hear Heejun let out a rough sigh. He sounds pained as he says, "I don't believe you."

Taehyung's hands curl into fists, vexed that Heejun isn't accepting your story as easily as they had hoped for.

"Trust me," You plead, eyes flickering between Jimin and Taehyung's evident annoyance.

Please trust me, please, please, please.

"How?" Heejun huffs, "You've been gone for months – months! – without a word! The last thing you told me was that your stalker was after you and then you're suddenly gone! Disappeared off the face of the earth. Y/n, please, what's going on?"

"I–" You falter, the explanation you had come up with only hours before stuck in the back of your throat. You don't want to lie. You want Heejun to know – to know that you're not okay, that you don't want to be here, but you can't. You can't and you think lying might tear your heart apart.

There's an ominous silence on the other side of the phone, the line so quiet you're worried he might have ended the call. Heejun's voice is hard, seething, as he finally asks, "Is he there?"

Jungkook straightens up in his chair, doe eyes wide with panic. Seokjin's grip on your hand grows so tight you think he might be cutting your circulation off, the tips of your fingers taking on an ashy tint. Yoongi and Namjoon look like they're two seconds away from jumping over the table to take your phone back, their bodies taut with tension as they stare you down.

"No," You rush out, clutching your phone as hard as you can. "Heejun, I–I chose to run away." The lie feels like it's flaying your throat open as you force it out.

"Y/n, please–"

"Listen to me," You say, the desperation in your voice catching Heejun's attention, "I ran away because I didn't want you or Jaemin or anyone else to get hurt. This was the best thing I could do. It was the only thing I could do."

You screw your eyes shut, swallowing hard. You know this is the only thing Heejun will believe. There's no way in hell he would ever accept you just growing bored of him or losing interest in your friendship – the only thing that would ever convince him is self-sacrifice. Gods knows you've both done your fair share of that over the years.

Heejun pauses. "But why take so long to reach out to me?"

"I couldn't. Things had to settle down first. I'm so sorry, I wanted to, but–" You cut yourself off, "I'm sorry."

"I don't care about all of that, I just care about you, Y/n. Are you safe?"

Are you?

The cabin is so silent you could hear a pin drop. You seek comfort in the darkness behind your closed lids, biting down on the inside of your cheek so hard you know that it hurts the others. The truth is this; the situation you're in is not safe, but you also know that the boys would never intentionally hurt you. Your bond is too strong to ever allow that to happen. In some ways you are safe, in others, you are not.

You can settle for a half-truth then, just like those Ms. Eun is so good at inventing.

You open your eyes slowly, skin crawling as you stare down at the floor and say, "Yes. I'm safe right now."

".. Okay," Heejun murmurs. You can't quite tell if he believes you or not.

The boys let out a collective sigh of relief, some of the tension draining out of their bodies. You notice Jimin giving you a sign to hurry up out of the corner of your eye, your pulse kicking up speed as you realize your time with Heejun has come to an end.

"I have to go," You choke.

Heejun tries to protest, but you cut him off. The longer the conversation goes on, the higher the risk of him figuring out that something is wrong.

"I'm sorry. I'll call you again later, okay? I promise. Just.. take good care of yourself and Jaemin. I'll come find you when it's time. I miss you," Your voice wavers as your vision grows cloudy, tears blurring your sight.

You don't want to let him go, you don't want this to be the last time you ever hear his voice. You miss him and you're scared. Scared that things will never go back to what they were.

"Miss you too. Please be safe, Y/n. Protect yourself, not us, okay?" Heejun sounds defeated, as sad and broken, as you feel.

I can't promise you that.

"Bye, Heejun," You whisper instead, a half-sob. You hear your own name being murmured back at you as you touch the red button to end the call, the line going dead.

"Was it enough?" You sound feeble even to your own ears.

"I think so. We'll find out soon. As long as your friends don't show up at the station anymore, we should be fine," Jimin says. His mouth is downturned, upset, like he doesn't like seeing you cry.

You can only nod in return, not trusting your voice.

Hoseok steps closer, gently taking the phone out of your trembling hand. He hands it off to Namjoon before he settles his fingers on the top of your head, stroking your hair. He hushes you as the first tear escapes you, voice tender and proud as he says, "You did well, sunshine."

You feel sick. You want to scream and claw at the hands touching you, you want to pull your own treacherous heart from your chest and stomp on it until it stops beating for them and it's yours again. The emotions bubbling up under your skin feel like burning hellfire, scorching your insides. You hate this. You don't want this and yet–

The fire quells as more hands reach out to touch you, to comfort you.

Taehyung pulls you into his lap, rocking you gently as you begin to sob. You should be running away, but instead, you find yourself curling closer to his chest, seeking his warmth. He presses fluttering kisses to your hair, murmuring about how good you are, how perfect, how well they're going to take care of you.

And for the first time since you woke up trapped in the cabin, you actually want to believe him.

Anything to make your reality hurt a little less.

a/n: happy new year!! lovesick is finally back after a few intense months of exams and other happenings. this chapter shed some more light on jungkook's backstory and he even got the first kiss from the mc! the conversation with heejun was the final nail in the coffin so to speak for the mc, so we'll see her being more open to accepting the boys' affection from here on out. the poor girl is starting to get worn down :( the next chapter will be more taegi-focused and the mc will finally learn more about their soulbond!

please leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed the chapter!! it means so much to me 💖

(and you know the drill, please excuse any mistakes until i have time to go through and edit!)

#yandere bts #bts x reader #yandere x reader #yandere jungkook #yandere jimin #yandere hoseok #yandere taehyung #yandere seokjin #yandere yoongi #yandere namjoon

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suzukiblu · 8 months

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If you are still taking requests I would love some Jason Todd!

There's a couple of ways to ID a soulmate, but the traditional–and usual–one is a kiss. Basically any exchange of bodily fluids will do it, of course, but most people kiss way before they get around to fucking bareback and a kiss is also definitely less likely to result in hepatitis than swapping blood with strangers. And, like, it's also more romantic and that tends to appeal to people more even when the involved soulmates aren't actually romantic. Like it's way easier to laugh off that one time you slipped your destined BFF tongue than it is to explain a bloodborne illness to your GP.

So naturally, Jason finds out who his soulmate is by accidentally bleeding all over the guy in the middle of a random stupid throwdown with supervillains in San Francisco.

Also, naturally said guy is Tim's boyfriend who still justifiably hates Jason's ass for all the fucked up shit he's done and said to Tim.

Jason is pretty sure this would count as another reason for Superboy to hate his ass, except the one mercy in this situation is that Superboy was unconscious for their accidental blood-swap, so he at least doesn't know they're soulmates.

The lucky bastard.

Fuck everything, Jason thinks, and then resolves to never think about it again. Which he doesn't, because even having a thought around Bruce is basically the same thing as handing the bastard a signed confession.

It sucks, admittedly? Like, Jason's not gonna pretend it doesn't suck. He didn't ever think he'd get a coffee shop meet-cute with his soulmate, assuming he had enough of a soul left to actually have one, but he'd at least expected to get somebody who wasn't already dating the brother he's treated worst and who did not, ideally, hate his guts.

Or who at least hated his guts in a sexy way that could result in a nice enemies-with-benefits situation to spice up his sex life and maybe hopefully one day evolve into . . . he doesn't know, frenemies-with-benefits? Or something?

Superboy is not gonna be up for cheating on his boyfriend with said boyfriend's adoptive brother, Jason is very damn sure. For one thing, if he was, Jason wouldn't want to fuck him anyway, much less be his soulmate. Jason is a murderer and a bastard but he is also a ride or die, okay, and he doesn't give a shit what the universe says, there is no damn way that he'd accept a soulmate like that.

Also, like, since the accidental blood-swap went down, now when they get close enough there's an empathy bond going and Jason can absolutely feel how fucking <i>besotted</i> Superboy is by every little thing Tim does and says and just is.

And he can also feel how much the guy hates him.

Jason has never had better control of his pit rage than since realizing that if Superboy ever felt it, it'd be absolutely undeniably obvious what it was and where it was coming from.

It is fucking amazing what a desperate person can get a handle on. Like, really.

Jason went to fucking therapy for this shit. It sucks and he hates it and he wants to burn down the whole stupid office every time, but he's still going every week because fuck forbid he lose control enough that somebody realize something is up.

Jason's self-control is not helped by the fact that Superboy has his own anger issues, but it's not like they get all that close to each other all that often anyway. He very rarely has to worry about Superboy picking up on anything from him. Mostly he just has to worry about not being any worse to Tim than he already has been and making excuses to avoid any situation that Superboy might theoretically pop up in. He has absolutely no designs on fucking up Tim's relationship. Ever.

He guesses he and Superboy could have a platonic bond, admittedly. Like, that's possible.

Except Superboy constantly insists on wearing a painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather and strappy belts and looking like a porn star parody of a superhero, along with regularly smirking like a cocky asshole who just so happens to be the second coming of sin, and Jason has a very difficult time not finding all of that just unspeakably hot, so that seems unlikely.

So yeah, Jason's definitely not telling anyone that they're soulmates. Possibly ever. At least not as long as Superboy and Tim are still into each other and in undeniably perfect romantic love, anyway.

It's not like Jason's waiting for them to break up or something, or for the probably likelier but much more upsetting option that is Tim fucking dying. He's a bastard, again, but he's not that kind of a bastard.

He really hopes this is just one of those bullshit bonds that don't actually become relevant until the involved bondmates are, like, octogenarians or whatever. Which is not something Jason would've ever expected to want from his soulmate, but Jason also did not ever expect his soulmate to turn out to be Tim's boyfriend, so yeah. Well, life's a bitch and also full of surprises.

It's impossible to always avoid Superboy, all things considered, but Jason usually can, and thanks to Bat-training and his time with the League and just who he is as a person he's very good at keeping his emotions on lockdown when the dude's around without it actually looking like he's keeping his emotions on lockdown. Mostly he just ignores him and acts like he thinks he's irrelevant, and Superboy seems perfectly happy with that.

But again, it's impossible to always avoid him, and they're on the same side and everything, more or less. Jason therefore can't technically bitch about the guy randomly landing in the middle of his rooftop stakeout wearing that cocky asshole smirk of his and also his painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather.

Or he couldn't, except that it is very obviously not actually Superboy wearing all those things. For starters, Superboy never wears that smirk when he's looking at Jason.

For another thing, Jason knows his own damn soulmate when he sees him. Like, he is not actually that oblivious or stupid a person as to not recognize his own damn soulmate.

"Hey, man," fake Superboy greets casually as his boots hit the roof. Jason runs the internal numbers on whether or not fake Superboy has real Kryptonian powers and decides better safe than sorry, then hits the panic button hidden in the collar of his jacket as he turns to fully face him, making the gesture look like an idle adjustment.

"Robin need something?" he asks, cocking his head questioningly. Seems wisest to pretend like he's falling for this bullshit, whatever it is. Especially if Kryptonian powers are currently a concern.

"Naw," the fake Superboy says, his smirk widening crookedly. "This one's an . . . off-the-books social call, as it were."

"Oh, we make social calls, now?" Jason asks dryly, resisting the irrational urge to hit his panic button again. Not actually a helpful urge, that. The thing's already streaming live audio and video to Oracle and the Batcomputer to get everyone in the loop on what the problem is, that's all that matters. Extra hitting would just make it likelier that fake Superboy might notice something.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you, Hood," fake Superboy says as his smirk turns into a wicked grin, and steps towards Jason with very familiar and incredibly unsubtle body language that, again, has never once been directed towards him.

Goddammit.

Well, good thing Jason hit his panic button, because there is no damn way this is ending well. He's never actually used the thing before, it's a recent addition to his gear now that he and the Bats are actually mostly working together again, but he already appreciates said addition very, very much.

Assuming that Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight, anyway.

Fuck, he'd better be.

. . . also assuming that whoever this fake Superboy is happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Or at least currently happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Jason's not sure if this is like a bodyswap situation or a more traditional possession or just a doppelganger or a shapeshifter, but who the hell even knows. Not mind control, he's pretty sure, unless it's the kind that really fucks with somebody's personality. Like, yes, that is Superboy's body language and Superboy's facial expressions and even Superboy's microexpressions, but it's just . . . not Superboy behind any of it. Like, very obviously not.

. . . weirdly obviously, actually. Like, Jason's really feeling the uncanny valley right now.

Ugh.

Well, hopefully this person or thing or weird psychic projection thinks he's fucking stupid.

"Did you now," Jason says, eyeing fake Superboy through his helmet. Schooling his expression doesn't really matter right now, except of course X-ray vision is a thing, so actually never mind, maybe it does. Again: goddammit.

Definitely gonna need to keep a handle on his heart rate here.

"Eh, what can I say, Rob was being a basic bitch again and I got bored," fake Superboy says with a dismissive shrug, which is something Jason would pistol-whip the real Superboy for saying but at least provides him a pretty solid script to go off while he waits for reinforcements to show.

He'd rather be making with the pistol-whipping, though.

#jason todd #red hood #batman #jaykon #rinfic #miri-tiazan #long post #wip: jaykon soulmates and timkon datemates

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twistedwonderlandshenanigans · 3 months

Text

Valentine's Day...Gifts They Give You?? I Think. IDK.

HAH SCHOOL CAN KICK MY BUTT BUT BY GOD AND THE DEVIL WILL I SHARE A LITTLE BIT OF LOVE!! (I'm suffering Jesus fucking CHRIST this course is gonna eat my fried up brain for breakfast lunch and dinner) This is done assuming they're pining for Yuu, save for Ortho he's Idia's little wingman. GN reader as always bbssssssssss if anything seems canon divergent, check out my HCs lmao

Heartslaybul Ace: He thought about making it super romantic, like he spent the week leading up to Valentine's day brainstorming ideas on napkins and doodling on scrap paper, trying to come up with a way to ask to hang out that would make it feel different than normal, but not so obvious that he...you know, likes you. He ends up showing up at Ramshackle before class with a box of chocolates he bought the day before and a bit of a blushing mess. "I just got these because who knows how much Sam will have by the end of today, you owe me half, ok?"

Deuce: He absolutely called his mom to ask for some advice, and asked his dorm mom (Trey), to proofread the hand written note he had meticulously written and supervise while he tries to make a heartshaped quiche. Why quiche? Well he knows you guys have...Memories about eggs, and he remembers it fondly, and he knows that quiche freezes well, so if he makes a big batch, you can eat what you want and have a readily available breakfast to just pop back in the oven whenever you want it - hopefully you'll remember him each time you do, and you'll ask for more when you finish it! He ends up at Ramshackle a little disheveled and out of breath, trying to make the quiche early enough in the day that he could make it there before breakfast so maybe you could share a meal before class. "It's still warm??" "Yeah, I ran here as fast as I could once it was cool enough to handle." "You didn't have to..." "I wanted to! You're more than worth the effort it took to be here on time." Trey: Mans has a major advantage in that he is great in the kitchen, but he can't just make your favourite dessert. He can do that any day. No, for weeks ahead of time, he plans, makes, tests, and revises a new recipe, something that is unique and meant to be for you. It's more effort than he normally puts into his work, but it's so worth it when he shows up at Ramshackle in the evening to deliver his gift and a small note, though he gets shy. He leaves it on the front door step, knocks once, and moves to hide by the side of the house, relying on Grim's nose to bring you to the door if you didn't hear him knock. Seeing the way your face go from confusion to joy and excitement as you read the note is worth every moment he spent crouching. He knows tomorrow you'll want to talk to him in person, but for now, that's more than enough for him.

Cater: Consumerism Capital lmao. He has a really sweet, genuine gift to give to you, but the time he's spent with his sisters makes him second guess whether or not something is "good enough". So, yes, he will have spent 72 hours painting a fucking masterpiece on a phone case for you, or a pair of shoes you said you wanted, or a skateboard so you guys can skateboard together, or something you mentioned you wanted offhandedly months ago, but he's not sure if it's enough, so to "make up" for his "shitty handmade gift", he buys a shit ton of Valentine's day merchandise! He shows up with the giant teddy bear, the bouquet of flowers, the chocolates, the sappy movies, a trending perfume and some sort of specialty drink he picked up at a cafe. Depending on your reaction to all that stuff, he might actually give you the gift he worked on, otherwise you'll see it by accident or something and he gets embarrassed and a little flustered because What If You Don't Like It, Isn't Everything Else Better Than That Thing I Worked On Specifically For You. Treat him gently please. That's a personal request slkdjfhlskdjf

Riddle: He's new to this. So of course he researched long and hard on how to best express his interest in you without trying to push anything on you. Cater tried to show him cute stuff on social media, but it all seemed so scripted, disingenuous, or so over the top he couldn't see himself doing it that way. Or on the other end - they were couples, well into their relationships and living together- that wasn't where he was with you, at least....not yet. He ends up watching, reading and listening to tutorials on how to put together the perfect bouquet - his beloved rose garden would have more than an aesthetic use now, and with a little magic, a beautiful gradient came easily to the bunch of roses he arranged beautifully. Before you, this holiday just seemed ridiculous. Maybe it still was, but he would indulge if it meant it brought a smile to your face.

Savannaclaw

Jack: He can't be direct for the life of him, not in terms like this. The night before Valentine's day, he's still stumped on what to do for you that won't be...inherently romantic and obvious, but show that he cares about you!! His eyes end up settling on his little cactus and he ends up finally getting an idea. Somehow after class, but before you got home, he managed to gift you your own tiny cactus. He left it sitting in a box, a small knitted coaster of sorts sitting underneath the flower pot - he put it in the box just so that the yarn wouldn't snag on the uneven wood outside of Ramshackle- and a tiny cowboy hat sitting on top of your cactus. It had been from one of his little siblings dolls that ended up in his bag from the last time he'd gone home, but either they didn't even notice it was gone, or he could get them a replacement later.

Ruggie: "Do you have plans for Valentine's day?" "Yep. Wait for it to be over." He doesn't really care for Valentine's day, but the sale that starts on the 15th? Goddamn, yeah, he's gonna capitalize on that....and he might even like you enough to share a little bit of it...maybe while watching a movie....and snuggling up under the same blanket at Ramshackle...that he may or may not have snagged from Leona's pile of Really Nice blankets....all it takes is for you to say you want some chocolate or treats too.

Leona: He really doesn't care for Valentine's day and all the shit that comes with it, but his sister in law asked him to at least try to make the best of the day. Initially, he was going to...at least try to contest it, but ultimately decided there was a simple way to do it. He ends up firing you a quick text to meet him in the greenhouse. While the way he pulls you into his little nest for napping is rather unceremonious, once you've settled he tucks a pink camellia behind your ear before abruptly telling you he's going to sleep and you're welcome to join him or you can get out of there if you want. He hopes, that just maybe, you'll be able to identify the flower he gave you and find out what it means.

Octavinelle

Floyd: Azul is making him work overtime for Valentine's day, he doesn't get up early enough to do anything Before classes, and by the end of his shift he's EXHAUSTED and MAD. He likely has the wherewithall to bring you a serving from the special menu in a takeout container before flopping down on the couch next to you, then onto you, just looking for a little bit of physical affection. The next day he does feel a little bad for not making you feel as special as he could have, so he'll wake you up with breakfast in bed. Jade: Again, he's been working overtime but he was more ready for Valentine's day than Floyd. While he can't take you anywhere on the day of, he has an easy hike and picnic planned for the weekend if you'll join him. Despite being in the wild outdoors, he's determined to make you a dish that would be worthy of serving at the lounge. He will not handle being asked to stay home very well, but ultimately will if you want that more....but it's going to be in your backyard.

Azul: He had so much on his plate leading up to Valentine's day with marketing, organizing shifts and maximizing profit. But, some of that profit was already planned to be set aside specifically for you. It was about time that you got a bit of a leg up, right? I mean working for Crowley can only pay so much, and he's the head of the dorm that represents generosity anyways. So on the day after Valentine's day, he shows up in the evening with a laptop, and envelope with cash, and a grin, ready to show you the wonders of ✨investing✨. He may have forgotten you still...want to go home. He'll backtrack a bit and offer to help you find contractors that will renovate a part of Ramshackle for you.

Scarabia

Jamil: He didn't even bother trying to plan something for himself with you. How could he? It was a holiday, as ridiculous as it was, it meant that Kalim would inevitably want to celebrate it on the dorm level, and Jamil, of course, would have to plan and organize and arrange everything in order to make it work out. However, that didn't mean he wouldn't make sure to invite you. It didn't mean that he wouldn't make the time to ensure your favourite dish was served. Or that your favourite song would come on during the dance party portion of the celebration. Or that he wouldn't check on you just as, if not more frequently than he did on Kalim to make sure you're enjoying yourself. And if you're not, if it's all too much, he accounted for that already and will show you where you can stay until you feel okay again. Of course, if you show up an hour or two early and demand (you can't ask, he'll say no) to be given a task to lighten his burden, he might just admire you a little bit more (even if he still says no).

Kalim: Valentine's Day means partayyyyy time!! There's gonna be food, and dancing, and games, and lots of people, and live music because he, Cater, and Lilia are gonna perform, won't you come see him?? He needs you there so he can perform the best he ever has!! Come on Yuu, please??? They did actually practice, because they had to change a few lyrics so that it could be a better cover for Valentine's day and he was thinking of you when they modified it, so can you pleeeeeeeease come?

Pomefiore

Epel: He isn't sure whether he wants to continue a tradition he had from home or not, where he would show up at school with handmade lollipops and give them out to people....but his class at primary school was soooo much smaller, it wouldn't make sense to do it here for everyone. Not to mention, he usually had his grandma help him make them, he's never done it on his own. He likely does it for all the first years in his little friend group because he doesn't want to be obvious to anyone person that maybe...he likes them a little more...however your lollipop is the only one that seems to have no imperfections. Funny how that worked out.

Rook: Screw your alarm clock, he knows when you wake up anyways and will be outside your window, serenading you until you wake up. Even if you end up rolling out of bed lookin like a sewer rat and peaking out the window, once he knows you're awake he'll start reading poetry to you. He kinda just lingers until you're done getting ready enough to come great him outside, where he gives you a single rose and a few sheets of paper that he's written his poems about you on. He'll kiss the back of your hand and offer to escort you to class. ** I just want to say, for as much as I gripe about Rook in other posts, I genuinely believe that if he knew or found out you had no Valentine, no plans, and nobody treated you, he would, by the end of the day, at least have left a rose and handwritten note on in front of your door apologizing for not having asked to be your Valentine earlier and going through and complimenting you, though the note is completely anonymous. Rook is a bleeding heart (hehe Snow White ref) and regardless of his feelings for you/your feelings for him, he wants to make sure Valentine's day is positive for you.

Vil: Ugh, Valentine's day. It's a tacky, meaningless holiday that corporations push for the sake of profit. He agrees to model stuff still, sure, he has to in order to try and keep up with Neige, but he hates it. He gets his nails done so that they are jet black. Part of him wants to go goth for the day, but really that would be an overreaction to something so minor. He rejects any Valentine's day gifts, and likely won't want to do anything special, so if anything, you get to see a slightly out of character Vil as he either facetimes you to make sure you've been drinking water today and rant about the industry and how it's ruined Valentine's day, or. You send him a really cheesy gif wishing him a happy Valentines day and he very reluctantly replies, but tells you to never do that again (and it segues into Above).

Ignihyde

Idia (+ wingman/little shit Ortho): Ortho didn't really intend to snoop, but his big brother just left his phone out in the open...well he threw it onto his bed and mumbled something about being a loser. According to Ortho's analysis of Idia's phone, he hadn't been on a mobile game, so what got him so worked up? He sifted through until he found the culprit- the draft of a really sweet...and yeah, kinda cringey message he had written out addressed to the prefect of Ramshackle. Eugh he didn't need to read that...but...but Yuu should. He sends the message for Idia right before his brother comes back into the room, mumbling about how he needs to delete something. His eyes go wide as saucers as he sees not only has the message been sent, but the prefect has read it and is replying in that very moment. Idia reprimands Ortho immediately, but gently until the Prefects response comes through and Ortho confirms the tone is positive. Diasomnia lord help me it's one in the morning

Sebek: Wasn't going to do anything until Lilia mentioned...."exaggerated"...just how important Valentine's Day can be to humans. His decision to try and come up with a last minute gift only amplifies if he sees someone else give Yuu a gift, and ultimately decides with a certain degree of defeat just to buy something from Sam's shop. He decides something practical is best, but gets a little distracted around the candles. Surely in Ramshackle you would appreciate something small, aromatic and it even offers a small bit of heat! He decides to go through with it, but it's only noon, surely he can customize it a bit more before the end of the day. Lilia ends up walking into Sebek's room at around 10:30, only to see him struggling to stay awake as he wipes off paint from the lid. Based on the discarded tissues around, he hasn't been satisfied with any customizations he's tried to make. Lilia gently encourages him just to write a quick note, and he'll deliver it to the prefects doorstep for him so he can get to sleep. Sebek insists it's not perfect, but is forced to accept defeat as Lilia ushers him to bed, reassuring him that the prefect will still appreciate it.

Silver: He knows that he struggles to stay awake, so he starts on his project long before Valentine's day so that he can work on it whenever he has the wherewithall to do so. Come Valentine's day, he has the gift with him during class, and ends up sitting outside of Ramshackle, passed out next to the door waiting for you to show up so he can hand you his gift, which turns out to be a dagger. No, he didn't make it, but he wanted to research the best option for someone of your size and stature, the quality, where to purchase it reliably, to make a small write up on how to care for it properly, what it can and should be used for, and activities it's not suggested to use it for, but you technically "can". It also gives him an excuse to come see you more often to teach you how to use it- often teaching someone is a great way to learn and will add another layer to his training. Lilia: He's been around for so many Valentine's Days, he probably knew the fucking saint it was named after. That being said, he loves to make the most of life, and that doesn't stop here! Get ready for a home cooked meal, you don't have to worry about dinner tonight sweetheart, Lilia's got it covered. Or he'll pay for take out. Or both, to make up for the mess in your kitchen.

Malleus: He's been aware of the holiday for years, but has never really had a reason to celebrate it. But now there's someone who isn't scared of him. Someone who, perhaps if he asked, you would allow him to spend time with you. He ends up daydreaming about the activities the two of you could do together, from making gargoyles to learning to make ice cream together, he ends up spending the entire day like that. Though he's a bit frustrated at his loss of time, he writes out a heartfelt letter to invite you to join him in those activities at a later date. He'll either wait for you outside, or if its too late in the night, simply slide the letter under your door.

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I was gonna do Che'nya and Neige and even Rollo but its. its way too late, I'm hungry and I have a STATS class tomorrow RIP me.

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probably-writing-x · 1 year

Text

Distanced

Summary: can u write an imagine with reader and drew starkey being at the beginning of the dating stage (met through friends and even though they both really like each other they haven’t revealed their love face to face) so during a party reader saw drew talking with a few actress, influencers, LA girls and she gets jealous and insecure so she starts distancing herself to him thinking that she doesn’t deserve him and she’s too ugly for him but she doesn’t explain herself and drew thinks that he had done something bad and after weeks decide to have a discussion annnnd they both revealed their feelings.

Warnings: Discussions of body image issues, alcohol use, I think that might be everything?

Author’s Note: Sorry this is so long - I started writing and kept going. It’s been a busy few days so I haven’t been writing as much but hopefully I’ll be back to it now :)

———

The thing about being in the celebrity world was that, eventually, everyone was connected. Whether it was a friend of a friend who worked with another guy on a film ten years ago, or it was a neighbour’s neighbour - everyone eventually got to someone else. That’s how you’d met the majority of the people that you considered friends in the industry. You’d released your first album three years ago but it still felt like you were taking your first steps in being ‘famous’. Thankfully, you’d met some good people - Kelsea had become like a sister to you and she’d taken you under her wing instantly. Since she’d started dating Chase, too, she’d been introducing you to more and more people - notably, Drew. She knew that you two would hit it off when she introduced you at a party and you clicked almost instantly, spending the entire night talking in a booth away from the crowd. Since then, he texted you everyday, he’d become the guy you rang when you were walking home or in a taxi on your own, the one you texted to say a quick ‘home safe’. He sent you stupid videos he found online, and facetimed you to listen to him run his lines, or when he needed help with what to wear to an event. Drew was just… nice, you know?

“Okay, sorry, I’m back,” His face pops back into the frame of the facetime call as he sits back down on the couch and picks up his phone from where it was sat pointing up towards the ceiling, “My food arrived.”

“What did you order?” You ask, propping your phone up against the coffee machine on your counter so that you could open your own bag of takeout food.

“I went for chinese food,” He grins, pulling out the boxes of takeout.

“Me too,” You laugh, “But the good place was closed so I had to order from the kind of shitty one.”

“You hate the kind of shitty one, you’re going to eat the chicken and say that it’s a bit dry and that your rice doesn’t have enough flavor, and then you’re going to complain that your takeout night was ruined.”

You narrow your eyes at him through the screen, “That happened one time! How do you even remember that?”

Drew chuckles and sets his phone down so that he can eat, leaning it against the lamp beside his couch so that he’s still visible in the frame, “I remember things (Y/L/N).”

“Okay, which film did you choose?”

“Oh, I picked a terrible one, you’re going to love it. And I think if we try a few times we’ll be able to get the timing perfect this time.”

~~~

“Okay so what are we actually going to tonight?” You ask Kelsea, laying back against the cushions on her bed as she potters around the room, deciding on her outfit.

“It’s a party, I don’t know anything more than that,” She laughs, “It’s meant to be good though, it seems like everyone in LA is going.”

“I don’t like these things, they’re so stressful,” You grumble, pulling the hood of your hoodie up over your head.

“Well maybe if you started getting ready you’d feel more up for it a-“

She’s cut off by the sound of a key in the door, followed by two familiar voices laughing as they walk in. The pair round the corner and you’re met with the sight of Chase and Drew coming into the apartment.

“Hey honey,” Chase grins when he sees Kelsea, going over to kiss her quickly, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Hey (Y/N),” Drew wiggles his brows, slipping off his shoes and flopping down onto the bed next to you, he looks at you and puckers his lips exaggeratively.

“Grow up,” You roll your eyes, turning around so you can rest your head against his chest sideways, your legs dangling off the side of the bed as he stretches down the length of the mattress.

“(Y/N) I need you to talk some sense into Drew here,” Chase encourages, “He doesn’t want to come tonight.”

“I mean, I’m not up for it yet either,” You shrug, “I need like a shot or two and then I’ll be more in the mood to party.”

“Shots, okay, we can do shots,” Chase nods, “How about you two can start getting ready, and we’ll make dinner, and we’ll get some drinks. Sound good?”

“I didn’t agree to make dinner,” Drew points out, “Frankly I can’t think of anything worse.”

You reach a hand back to poke at his ribs and he flinches back from you, locking an arm around your neck and shoulders to trap you against him. He uses his other arm to tickle at your sides until you’re writhing underneath his touch.

“Drew!” You squeal, fighting to get away from him, your legs flailing.

Chase and Kelsea look at each other with a knowing expression, like they were watching the start of a film they already knew the ending to - a sort of inevitability that it seemed impossible to avoid.

~~~

You spend the next hour or two getting ready with Kelsea, changing your outfit three times before settling on one - a black crop top with spaghetti straps and a pair of wide leg black pants, heels underneath that were practically hidden by the excess length of the trousers.

“You guys ready to go? The uber’s here!” Chase calls out, knocking a couple of times on the door of the bedroom before poking it open just an inch or two before opening it fully, “Alright, good to go?”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go,” Kelsea nods, smoothing her hands over her dress.

When she goes over to him, he wraps an arm around her and tells her she looks beautiful, kissing her shoulder. You follow behind and see Drew waiting for you as the other two leave just ahead.

“Well don’t you scrub up well,” He grins, reaching out his elbow for you to link an arm with his, still taller than you even with your heels on.

“Not so bad yourself, Starkey,” You laugh, holding your hand around his bent arm to help you walk with him.

“Okay, so, how long do we have to stay at this thing tonight?” Drew asks, stepping forward and reaching out a hand for you to take as you’re about to descend the stairs.

“Come on, it’ll be fine, at least we know a few people that will be there,” You point out, “Can’t be that bad.”

“You’ll be regretting saying that later, I promise,” He shakes his head, waving his hand a little more in front of you, “Come on, hurry up.”

He’s wearing a dark green button up shirt and black carpenter jeans, baggy around his legs. It seems to darken the features of his face, defining the freckles around his nose and cheeks, lessening the normal brightness in his eyes. His hair is growing out now from him shaving it for Outer Banks and you’re sure it gives him an innocence beyond what anyone else saw. You loved it most when it was messy, a hundred directions on his head, a sort of carelessness to it.

“Are you coming or what?”

It’s Chase that calls up from the bottom of the stairwell. And you realise for all of the time you’d been staring at Drew, admiring him, he’d been staring at you too.

~~~

The party is already busy when you arrive and there’s people queuing up outside to try to get in. Drew links arms with you as you get out of the car, like he’s constantly scared you’re on the brink of falling whenever you’re in heels. It’s in a club, already littered with tens too many bodies, and music that pounds from the walls, chatter drowned out by the noise.

“Let’s go get us some drinks,” Drew says into your ear and he moves his hand from your arm to press on the small of your back, guiding you in front of him as if he would shield you from the growing crowd behind.

You slip through non-existent gaps in the crowd until you eventually break through to the bar, waiting in the queue with Drew behind you. His hand falls to your waist, his body towering over you from behind and his eyes seemingly on full alert for everything and everyone around you.

“A tequila sprite and a rum and coke please,” You call over the bar to the server who nods at you with a smile, taking two glasses to prepare the drinks.

Drew shifts into the space beside you and leans his forearms on the bar, “Are you trying to get me-“

“Hey!” It’s a voice from beside him that interjects, a girl.

She’s about your age, you think, with makeup that you’re certain you couldn’t match even with the best products. She must be a model, and her outfit is like something straight from a runway. You’re suddenly aware of how itchy your top feels around your chest, and how your trousers don’t seem to be sitting in the right place on your waist anymore. But you ignore it, turning back to the bartender as he pours in the rest of your drink.

“Have we met before?” She asks to Drew, her hand falling to his upper arm.

He looks at her with a frown, “No, no, I don’t think so. I guess I would remember if we did.”

“Well, yours is a face I definitely wouldn’t forget,” She smiles in return, “Who did you come with tonight?”

“Just a few friends,” He returns.

You pause with the drinks glasses in your hand, suddenly hyperaware of how the condensation seems to scratch with the cold against your palms. A few friends. He wasn’t wrong. You and him were just friends, right?

“Well, maybe if your friends don’t mind you could come and dance with me,” The girl smiles, her hand not yet moving from his arm.

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll see you around.”

With that, she disappears and Drew turns back in your direction, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Oh, um, here,” You clear your throat, stretching out an arm to give him his drink.

He takes it from you and smiles, taking a sip, “Alright, should we go find the other two?”

You nod and follow behind him in the crowd, he stretches an open hand back as if offering for you to take it but you pause before doing so. It was still undecided in your mind if that was a good thing or a bad thing that he’d been so completely nonchalant. Like that had just happened and it didn’t mean anything. Did it not mean anything because he wasn’t trying to flirt back? Or did it not mean anything because he didn’t think you should care if he was flirting?

After a second too long without your hold, Drew turns back to look for you, eyes flicking between you and his empty hand as if reminding you that he needed to know you were there. You place your hand in his palm and let his fingers wrap around you, not making any move to hold his hand back, just yet.

You meet up with Kelsea and Chase and end up on the dancefloor. Your drink is finished by now and so is another and another, and at some point you’d all done two rounds of shots. Drew is dancing beside you, his arm bumping yours as he moves, trying to make you laugh with every exaggerated dance, or every effort to shout the lyrics of every song he recognised.

At some point, a group of girls are dancing beside you and one of them reaches out to tap Drew on the shoulder. He turns around one another of the girls reaches a hand out for him to take, spinning herself around and starting to dance with him. Chase nudges you and points in that direction as if you hadn’t seen it in the first place, watching as Drew gets engulfed by the group, dancing with them as they laugh at his moves. Kelsea glances in your direction and her brows drop as if concerned, as if worried for your reaction. You force yourself to smile at her and tear your eyes away from Drew, taking a long sip of your drink.

This was silly. You couldn’t keep thinking about this. But the more you thought about not thinking it, the more you thought about it. And you found yourself looking to the group of girls more and more often. They were all in different dresses, and you were sure you recognised their faces from the TikToks that could come up on your for you page of ‘get ready with me’ videos or ‘get dressed with me to go to…’ videos, another two of them you’ve seen at a fashion week before. They’re gorgeous. Their makeup still looks pristine even after hours of being in this hot club. And you’re suddenly aware of how yours is starting to feel more obvious on your face, how your foundation probably doesn’t look as good as it did when you left. How the curl of your lashes has probably dropped by now, your lipgloss non existent. You’re thinking of everything.

When you look back again, Drew’s leaning down to the height of one of the girls so that she can speak into his ear. He laughs at something she’s said and pulls away slightly, his eyes catching yours as his gaze flicks away from her. He smiles but you find yourself looking away before you can think to smile back, feeling slightly less comfortable amongst the party of unknown people.

~~~

You’d stayed at Kelsea’s that night, sleeping in her spare room, and you’re up before she is, a cup of coffee in hand as you’re sat on her balcony.

“Hey, honey,” Her voice cuts in as you’re halfway through your cup of coffee, “How long have you been up?”

“Not long, the pot’s still full if you want some,” You smile, tucking your feet underneath you on the chair.

“I’ll grab some in a minute,” Kelsea responds, sitting down on the other chair, “So, how are you doing after last night?”

You look at her and ponder giving a dismissive response but her face is too genuine to try and lie to, “I- I don’t know how to feel.”

“Okay, well I’m just going to start this by saying you’re allowed to feel upset, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t know if I am though Kels, like me and Drew are just friends - why would I think that I have any place to feel any type of way about him and girls from clubs, you know?” You shake your head, taking a sip of your coffee to stop your bottom lip from trembling, “I just… me and him… I’ve never seen him with girls like that, so I didn’t know what to think.”

Kelsea nods, knowing to let you speak before she says her piece.

“I know we’re friends, and that’s fine. But I just saw those girls and I saw the way they were with him and they looked so… and they had this like confidence and they just…” You take in a shaky breath, “I’m not them. I’m not going to be them.”

“Oh honey!” Kelsea comes off from her chair and crouches in front of you, her hands on your knees, “(Y/N) you don’t need to be them. Drew doesn’t want you to be them. Do you know that? I see the way he is with you, the way he talks about you, that’s not the way you talk about someone if you’re just friends. Those girls, the club, last night, they were coming up to him, he wanted to be with you. I know he did.”

You want to believe her. But even the mention of his name forces the thoughts of last night back into your head, cycling through them like snapshot images, each one a little clearer and stinging just a little more.

“I’ll be okay,” You reach one of your hands down to squeeze Kelsea’s, “It was just one night. It’s okay.”

She furrows her brows and rubs her thumb over your knee, “Alright, I’m going to go and wake Chase up before he’s late for his press stuff.”

Kelsea disappears back inside and you sip down the rest of your coffee, drawing your legs up to your chest and trying to breathe out the tightness between your lungs, blinking away the blur of tears from your eyes.

~~~

It’s a day later when you realise you can only go so long avoiding Drew - perhaps less time than you’d originally thought that it would take. He had texted you a bunch yesterday, originally a good morning text, then turning into a couple of videos he thought were funny, ending the video string with one about when ‘the one person you speak to doesn’t reply’. By the night, he sent you one message saying that he was starting to get worried now that you hadn’t replied, and that he just wanted to check if you were okay. Today, he had called you in the morning and then followed up from his other text saying he was probably just being stupid but he wanted to make sure you were good. You reply with a simple;

Just been busy, got studio sessions coming up. Speak soon

You debate sending a heart at the end but delete it before pressing send. He reads it straight away and responds;

Fuck me I’m just glad you’re alive, felt weird going more than a day without speaking to you!! Hope your studio sessions go well, superstar <;3

You like the message and lock your phone, the same tightness settling on your chest as you’d had at the club, as you’d had yesterday morning. Your breath turns shaky again and you try to ignore it.

The next few days go relatively the same - Drew texts you in the morning, sends you something that reminds you of him or tells you to listen to a song that he’s found. You reply a few hours later with a short response or just react to the message, not wanting conversations to carry on like they normally do.

Another couple of days in, he calls you as you’re leaving the gym and you wait for it to go to voicemail, listening to it as soon as the notification comes through.

“Hey, superstar. I wasn’t sure if I’d get through to you, but I’m guessing you’re busy, um, just calling to say… well, I don’t know what I’m calling to say. Just that I miss you, I mean it’s only been a few days but… I don’t know. Feels weird not talking to you, so call me when you get the chance, let’s make plans or something. Alright, I’ll leave you to… well, I don’t know what you’re doing, which is weird, it feels like I always know what’s going on with you… um … whatever, call me back, or don’t if you don’t want to, I don’t know I-“

It cuts off after that and you’re just met with the monotone voice of your voicemail asking if you want to repeat the message. You listen to it once, twice again, finding comfort in the sound of his voice for those digital seconds.

Your finger hovers over his contact as you think of calling him back but you shift it to the text button instead.

hey! sorry i didn’t get to my phone in time - just been busy with the new album so the days are just going too fast. not sure when i’ll be free, i’m sorry

He reads it instantly and the elipsis bubble appears to say he is typing, disappearing and then reappearing a couple of times.

i told you not to forget me when you were famous (y/l/n). I miss you!!!!

You bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying at the words, reluctant to try to come up with any response that would feel fitting.

speak soon !!

~~~

It’s another week later when Kelsea invites you over for dinner, one of those sort of ‘no isn’t an option’ invites. You turn up with a bottle of wine and she wraps you in a bear hug when she sees you, a hand on your shoulder before she lets you come into the apartment.

“What’s going on?” You frown, looking at the slightly panicked expression on her face.

“Okay, don’t be mad,” She winces, “But Chase didn’t realise you were coming tonight and Drew’s here before they go out for dinner with the cast. He’s been asking about you.”

You shrug your shoulders, shake your head, “No, it’s okay, don’t worry. We’re friends, it’s fine.”

She furrows her brows a little, “Are you sure?”

“Of course!” You force a smile that you’re certain is believable enough and she must believe you, leading the way into the kitchen where there’s already a dinner cooking on the stove.

“Hey (Y/N)!” Chase gets up as you walk in, hugging you quickly.

You hug him back and, over his shoulder, spot the sight of Drew standing from his chair at the kitchen island.

“Hey stranger!” He raises his brows, “Where’ve you been?”

“Just a busy couple of weeks,” You nod, tightening your grip around the bottle of wine, “Been a bit M.I.A I guess.”

“Yeah, just a little,” He smiles softly, his eyes seeming to yearn for a little piece of you to come back to him, “Well it’s good to see you.”

You clear your throat, “You too.”

You try not to notice the way he watches you as you cross the kitchen, taking your jacket off and finding a bottle opener in the drawer to open the wine. You avoid eye contact when he watches your move to grab a glass from the shelf, pouring a portion of the liquid into the glass and swirling it around.

When you take a seat at the island, it’s the one furthest away from him. And when his eyes find yours then, it’s like they’re full of worry for his defeat - like this had just confirmed every thought that had been going through his head for the past week and a half. You, once again, find yourself trying to ignore the tightness in your chest, the way it restricts your breath as if he’s pulled it into him. Your eyes turn away from him as soon as you can force yourself to.

You’re just leaving Kelsea’s that night when you see the call come through. You’re almost a full bottle of wine in and it’s late as you’re descending the elevator to get to your Uber.

Your phone buzzes and your lowered inhibitions are the only reason you answer.

“Hello?”

“(Y/N),” His voice sounds slightly breathless on the other end of the phone, “You answered.”

“What’s happening Rafe?”

“Um…” He clears his throat and it crackles down the phone line, “Chase just said that Kelsea texted saying you were heading home. I figured you’d be getting a taxi.”

“I am,” You return, “I’m going down to it now.”

“I always call you when you’re getting a taxi.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, “No, you don’t need to-“

“I always do (Y/N). We’ve known each other for seven months, and I always call when you’re in the taxi, why wouldn’t I?”

“Have you been drinking, Drew?”

“Have you?”

Both of you are silent.

“Is that the only reason you answered?” He asks and you’re sure you can hear a shake in the words.

You don’t respond.

“What’s going on, (Y/N)?” There’s definitely a shake now, somewhere close to a tremble, “Why does it feel like I’m losing you?”

“You’re not losing me I’ve just been b-“

“Don’t say you’ve been busy,” He quips, “You’re always busy, but you always make time. This isn’t that, this is different.”

You’re silent.

“Answer me (Y/N),” He doesn’t raise his voice, but the tension in his words seems heightened, harsher.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

“I’m free now,” He responds, “I’ll be at yours in half an hour.”

It might be the remaining buzz of alcohol in your system, or the sight of your taxi driver turning into the road, your way home, to Drew, but you don’t think twice when you say;

“Okay.”

~~~

A painfully slow thirty minutes later, Drew buzzes your front door to come up to your flat. He lets himself in and you’re sat waiting as if counting the seconds of him ascending in the elevator. You’ve drank a bottle of water by now and the wait has seemed to sober you up quicker than usual. And then there’s a knock at your apartment door and you’re sure your heart stops as you open it.

He’s wearing a shirt that’s unbuttoned at the top, wrinkled around the bottom from where it had been tucked in but wasn’t anymore. He looks disheveled as if he’d rushed to get here before the minutes caught up with him, or perhaps before you changed your mind.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” He breathes out, “You look beautiful.”

You were wearing a baggy t-shirt that hung around your thighs, a pair of gym shorts underneath, your hair pulled back from your face in a bun with strands seeming to fall out on their own accord, no makeup on your face but your cheeks rosy from the wine in your system.

“Do you want to come in?”

He steps through your front door and you step past him to close it. Drew doesn’t make any effort to move further and neither do you. He’s just stood in your hallway looking at you and you’re stood with your back a few feet from the front door, somewhat feeling isolated now you knew he wasn’t leaving.

“What’s going on (Y/N)?” His shoulders drop as if he just needed to get the words off of his chest, a relief slipping over his features to finally say the words to your face.

“I-“ You take in a deep breath, “I just feel like things are weird between us.”

“They’re weird, yeah,” He scoffs, “They’re weird because you’ve been avoiding me.”

Drew laughs then and you find yourself letting out a little laugh too, the two of you gripping onto the pieces of normality that still remained.

“Did something happen at that party? Because I’ve been wracking my brain and that’s the last night I can remember where it felt like things were normal. And since then I’ve barely seen you. Did something happen? Did I do something? Did I say something?”

You shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself as if you’re cowering away from the idea of having to admit to anything.

“(Y/N)…”

“I hated it-“ You stop yourself, letting your thoughts gather, “We were at that party and I hated it. These girls were flocking to you and flirting with you and chatting to you and all I could think about was how much I hated it. Which is stupid because I have no reason to feel like that but I couldn’t help it and then I hated that I felt like that because I-“

“(Y/N), breathe,” Drew steps towards you, his hand reaching out and lacing with yours.

The contact seems to ground you, his eyes burning into your skin but somehow seeming to calm the raging fire of your nerves.

“I know I have no reason to be jealous, I know that, but I just,” You shake your head, “I was jealous.”

“You were jealous,” Drew returns, the corners of his mouth upturning with the slightest glimpse of brightness on his features.

“It’s stupid because I know we’re just friends and I know that I don’t want to lose that and-“

“You were jealous,” He’s really fighting back a smile now, but it seems to fight harder against him as his lips stretch into a grin.

You look up at him then, your eyes locking with his, you’re sure you forget how to breathe for just a second.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” His brows furrow for a second but he doesn’t seem to lose the joy on his face.

“I just-“ You look down again, “I didn’t want things to be weird between us, or for you to lie and say that you felt the same way.”

Drew moves his free hand up and presses a thumb underneath your chin, his index finger bending around the front to push your chin upwards, guiding your eyes towards him, guiding you back to him. His eyes are sincere, flicking between either of yours.

“It wouldn’t be a lie.”

You open your mouth and close it again, words catching on your tongue as you’re sure your whole body is going to freeze in this exact spot. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing - to stay in this moment.

“But maybe next time you’re feeling jealous, just tell me. Does that sound good to you?” He dips his head just slightly, his fingers not moving from around your chin.

You laugh lightly and nod your head, “That sounds good.”

He chuckles and moves his hand around to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing over the skin, “And those girls? They’re not you.”

You feel your cheeks heat under his touch, his gaze, his words, “Not me?”

Drew shakes his head, “I don’t think anyone could come close,” He hums, dropping his head closer to you until his lips are just an inch from you, breath hot over your features.

In just a second, his lips press to yours, softly as if savouring the feeling of the first time. His hand moves from yours to instead drop to your hip, guiding you backwards until your back is flush against the door. With the contact, he deepens his kiss against your lips, his fingers slipping back into your hair.

When he pulls away, you’re both a little breathless against each other.

“God I’ve waited so long to do that,” He mumbles, pressing his forehead against yours, a smile crawling onto his lips.

“Next time please don’t wait so long,” You laugh, your arms moving to link your hands behind his neck.

“I don’t plan on it,” Drew smirks, dipping his head once again to kiss you, more sure of himself than before.

And, then, you’re sure. You’d stay locked in this moment if you could.

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navybrat817 · 1 year

Text

Valentine's Day Tradition

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky wants to get you the perfect Valentine's Day gift. Word Count: Over 1.4k Warnings: Fluff, mix of nerves and confidence, slight feels (it's me), canon divergent, Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: For @the-slumberparty 's Blast From the Past challenge, I went with A New Tradition Bucky. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly, banner by the lovely @sgt-seabass, and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

As Bucky circled the shop for the umpteenth time, he felt like the worst boyfriend alive. Valentine's Day was almost here and he had no idea what to get you. Even though you assured him that he didn't have to get you anything, he refused to turn up at your place empty-handed. He also knew he wanted your gift to be something special, especially since it was the first holiday the two of you were celebrating together as a couple.

Why is this so difficult?

He knew well enough that you didn't want anything extravagant, like an over the top fancy dinner. The traditional route of flowers and chocolate didn't sound like a bad idea, but any guy could do that for you. What could he do to make it unforgettable? How could he make this Valentine's Day stand out?

"You're overthinking again, aren't you?" Steve asked.

"Steve, this is hopeless and I'm not overthinking," Bucky replied into the phone as his friend chuckled. "Okay, maybe a little, but why can't I figure this out?"

"Because you're overthinking."

"Like you didn't overthink with your gift," he argued.

"We're not talking about me. We're talking about you," Steve said.

"I used to be good with women," Bucky sighed.

"You still are, otherwise you wouldn't be in a relationship."

Fair.

"The jury is still out on whether she made the right choice by choosing me as her man," he said.

"She's good for you and you know it," he said.

Steve was happy that Bucky started dating you. God knows he had to hear enough about you before you got together. It was only fair since he got to hear all about his writer girlfriend. He wondered when his best friend would pop the question.

Hopefully soon.

"So you really don't have any ideas?" Steve asked.

Bucky stopped in front of one of the displays where a few other guys stood. "No, but she did jokingly request no jewelry."

"Well, she does make jewelry," Steve teased.

A small smile touched his lips. You put so much thought and care into every piece you made. As nice as it was to maybe get you more tools and supplies, he could do that any day of the week. It wasn't romantic enough.

"Buck, I can practically hear you overthinking again," Steve sighed.

"Because I'm stuck!" he said, wincing once he realized he raised his voice and ignoring some of the funny looks he got. "I just want it to be special, you know?"

"Then get her something from the heart."

"That's your advice?" he scoffed as he walked away from the jewelry. "This is for the beautiful woman who made me personalized dog tags. I'm just an old science nerd who likes to read and…"

Bucky trailed off as he stopped at another display. The answer was so simple. Why hadn't he thought of it sooner?

"You figured it out, didn't you?"

"I did," he answered, smiling as he looked back at the jewelry. "And I may have even come up with a new holiday tradition."

"That's it. I can't eat another bite," you said, dropping your fork on your plate and rubbing your stomach. "You've outdone yourself."

Bucky's cheeks warmed as he smiled. He expected to be nervous tonight, but he felt good. Confident. It was nice to be comfortable in his skin.

He knew he wouldn't feel that way every day, but your smiling face made a huge difference.

"You helped me make the meal," he reminded you, reaching over to brush the corner of your mouth with his thumb. "But keep stroking my ego. I like it."

You grabbed his wrist before he could pull his hand away and teasingly nibbled the tip of his thumb. "Play your cards right and I'll stroke something else, Jamie."

This woman might be the death of me. What a way to go.

"So, you're telling me you want dessert," he smirked, purposely deepening his voice and licking his bottom lip.

You inhaled sharply as you released his wrist. Even though the two of you decided not to go out to dinner, he dressed nicely for you. The short dress you picked even matched the color of his top.

Proof that we fit together.

"I very much want dessert," you said, leaning forward on the table to give him a generous view of your chest. Was it impolite to stare? "I also want to give you your gift before we watch a movie."

Homemade meal, gifts, and a movie. It was the perfect, low-key evening. As long as you liked what he picked out for you.

If you hate it, I'm blaming Steve for the advice he gave me.

After clearing the table, because no way in hell was he making you clean, he joined you in the living room. The blanket and pillows were already set up on the couch and he wondered how far you two would make it through the film. Would you prefer for him to be a gentleman or an animal?

Maybe a bit of both.

"Since I didn't have your gift ready in December, I think it's only fair that you open your gift first," he said, setting the box on the coffee table.

"If you insist," you smiled.

The confidence Bucky felt earlier began to slip away as you examined the box and began to unwrap it. Maybe he should've picked prettier wrapping paper, even though it was going to end up in the trash. No, he had no reason to be nervous. You were going to love your gift.

I hope.

"Oh, my God," you gasped, smiling as you lifted up your present and looked it over.

The flower inside the glass case was unique and beautiful. The gold leaves shined as you spun it in your hand, along with the rainbow colored petals. The additional LED lights would bring an extra layer of brightness to your gift.

"I did some research after I saw a Beauty and the Beast display at a shop. It's called a galaxy rose. I know flowers are traditional for Valentine's Day, but I wanted something that would last," he explained, wiping his palm on his pants as you lifted the gift from the carton. When did he start sweating? "So I got you a rose that will never fade away."

Is that romantic or lame?

"It's perfect," you said, your eyes shining as you set it down and shifted on the cushion to face him completely. He let out a breath as you placed your hand on his cheek. The happiness that radiated from you was worth every moment he agonized over your gift. "I love it."

"I know it isn't the Beauty and the Beast rose, but it'll do," he smiled, placing his hand over yours.

"I'm clearly the Beast since I would gift you with a library if I could," you giggled.

We can build a library together.

"You're Beauty and you know it," he smiled, reaching into his pocket. "But there's still one more thing."

"There's more?" you asked as he pulled his hand out of his pocket and opened his fist.

In the palm of his hand sat a heart shaped rose quartz with the word "heart" etched in the middle.

"The science nerd in me and the jeweler in you. I mean, I'm not a geologist, but I thought this was fitting," he said, placing the stone in your hand. "You said you wanted to start new traditions. And for every holiday I spend with you, I want to give you a new stone with a new word. Something small, but meaningful for both of us."

Something from my heart.

Your eyes watered as you closed your hand around the quartz and for a moment you didn't speak.

God, you hate it. So much for new traditions.

"Jamie," you sniffled as a tear slid down your cheek. You opened your mouth to speak again, but instead pressed your lips against his. Heat rushed through him as he tenderly returned the kiss. "Thank you for making tonight so special. I won't forget it."

Mission success.

"The night isn't over yet," he whispered, unable to resist teasing you with his next statement. "I still have my gift to open."

You giggled, the quartz still in your hand as you pulled him back in for another kiss.

Best Valentine's Day ever.

New tradition in the books! Wonder what the next holiday will be. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #navy and roo's sleepover #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you

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margowritesthings · 1 year

Text

The Greatest Gift A Cowgirl Could Ask For

a @rdrevents Valentines gift exchange for @cowboydisaster

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader word count: 4,400 words warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit language, sexual themes, vaginal sex, mentions of death, unprotected sex, throwing up (TW EMETOPHOBIA), very brief mention of SA in the past, unexpected pregnancy, mentions of Micah Bell a/n: am I britney spears in her 2000 grammy award winning song??? because oops, i did it again. i don't know how I managed to get Bea as my recipient for a SECOND time, but it only felt right to carry on building this universe I've made for her and lying to her about it all week. Whoops.

Bea, my beloved, Happy Valentines Day. You deserve the world and Im so glad I could dedicate this fic to you. Honestly I probably couldn't have gotten the motivation to get back on my feet and write again if it wasn't for you. Thanks for everything you do bby and I hope this lives up to your 'if by some miracle you get me for your gift exchange disregard my prompts and write a TGG prequel' (yes she actually said that) idea. Love you lots xxx

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @luvliewriting @mrsarthurmorgan7 @photo1030 @snobbybastard

My Darling Wife,

I’m writing to you from up near Tempest Rim. I’ve tracked this bounty all over the goddamn Grizzlies and I’m ready to come home to you. I miss you so much and I’m real sorry I can’t be home in time for St. Valentines. Hopefully I can catch this bastard soon and make it up to ya. We’ll go to the theatre and sit right at the back, how’s that sound? I’ll move heaven and Earth to be beside you soon, you know I will.

I can’t wait to see you, sweetheart. I’ll be there as fast as I can be with enough money to take you out on the town. Won’t be long, I promise.

All my love, Arthur

Your finger runs over his looped script, over and over as if it will somehow will your husband out of the crumpled paper and into your bed. It’s been 2 months since the letter arrived, 2 months of the agony of not knowing if he’s dead or alive robbing you of sleep each and every night. You miss him, more than you could ever imagine one person could miss another and you honestly don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t come home.

It’s a 600 dollar bounty, it’s sure to be a tough job you constantly reassure yourself, unable to focus on anything but the absence of half of your very soul in every waking moment.

The day he comes home starts like any other. Time's arrow marches on, the sun rises and sets over your makeshift family as they work and plan and rob and hunt. You busy yourself planning a job with Karen, cushioned into your schedule between menial tasks so that it’s just that bit easier to not think about him. As usual, your efforts are in vain, but at least the chores are done, your steed Diesel is happy, and, all being well, you and Karen will have about 30 dollars to split between you when the week is out.

An hour before he comes home, everyone retires to bed, save for John (who’s on watch tonight) and you’re left alone by the campfire. It crackles and pops, embers swirling the air around you. It feels like you stare at the twisting flames until your eyes blur and burn and you can’t tell which are tears of irritation to your senses and which are your heart breaking once more.

Moments before you’re reunited with the second half of your heart, you hear John yelling. It’s instinct that drives your hand into your holster, still resting against your hip despite the late hour, and you perk up like a startled deer, straining to decipher Marston’s words.

“Who is it?!” “Arthur, you dumbass!”

Arthur.

Arthur?

“Arthur?!” It’s a breathless shout, barely heard over the rushing blood in your ears as your feet take you to your husband before your mind can even fathom that he’s here.

But sure enough, when you reach the edge of camp, heart racing, you see Arthur Morgan riding his chestnut mare straight towards you, spurring her into a gallop as soon as he lays his eye on his waiting wife. Marston probably makes some remark about who ‘decided to show up’, but to you, there is nothing but you and Arthur, two magnets parted by an unnatural force finally reaching each other again with a deafening crash.

And it is. A crash, that is, when Arthur all but throws himself off his saddle and your bodies collide, great big arms wrapping around your frame. It is then that the tears fall down your cheek, soaking into Arthur’s coat that smells so much like him it truly feels like a dream.

You thought he was dead.

Only when you’re safely in his arms, when he’s pressing frantic kisses to your head, whispering your name over and over into your hair do you allow yourself to admit that fact. You thought he was never coming back, and yet here he is. Words fail you, the overwhelming emotion settling right in your throat.

“Oh, god… oh, darlin’ I-I missed you so much…”

You feel two large hands cup your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss that holds everything and anything the past 3 months could have been had you not spent it apart. But everything fits back into place, the world starts spinning again and you’re whole the second Arthur Morgan’s lips meet yours. It lasts a lifetime, it lasts a fraction of a second. You want to stop time, keep Arthur in your arms forever and never again have to go through the torture of being away from each other. The two of you only part to throw near identical scowls at John, who is amusing himself by telling you to get a room.

Unfortunately, as Ms. Grimshaw so often reminds you all, the Van der Linde Camp is not a hotel, so tonight you will not be afforded the luxury of a private suite as John so kindly suggested. There is only your tent, hitched against the gang’s weapons wagon, the old canvas pulled around to offer a little privacy when you and Arthur first started… well, needing the seclusion.

Calloused fingers intertwine with your own digits, Arthur’s other hand flipping John off before his weight pulls you towards your little corner of camp. There's so much purpose in his stride, the need to have you all to himself, not even share you with the lord above or wildlife below, driving him forward. Driving him home.

When you’re finally, truly alone, the tears welling in your eyes glistening in the candlelight, no words are needed. Soon enough, you’ll talk for hours on end, catching each other up on every little detail of the last few months. But for now, all that there is and all that could matter is right this very second, when Arthur reaches for you, brushing a thumb over the tear tracks on your left cheek. His eyes, looking almost emerald in the dark of night, roam over each and every detail of you with such an intensity in him that you think he’s trying to remember this moment for the rest of time. You’re sure it’s one you could never possibly forget.

Arthur snakes both arms around your waist, guiding you backwards until the backs of your knees gently hit the cot and you lay back onto it. He covers the full length of you and then some, making you feel so fragile and small. It’s nice to feel breakable for once, to let go of the need to be the strongest in the room, lest you be ridiculed for being too sensitive or too weak or too womanly. Arthur knows just how strong you are, you need to prove nothing to him, so you can submit to his embrace, allow yourself to just breathe for once knowing you can break and there’s re will always be somebody to put you back together.

He lowers himself to your lips, pressing a kiss to them that doesn’t last nearly long enough. Arthur then kisses your nose, then your cheeks and chin, before trailing down to the crook of your neck. Your skin feels as though it’s on fire, so starved for the man you cannot live without that now he’s finally here everything feels that much more intense. The tiniest scrape of Arthur’s teeth against your flesh shoots through every single nerve in your body and you moan right into his ear. You can actually feel him harden against your thigh at the sweet melody of your pleasure.

Pushing Arthur’s hat off to the side, your fingers rake through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp encouragingly as he nibbles at your skin.

“Oh, Arthur… Oh, I missed you so much…” You breathlessly whisper, feeling your heart skip a beat when he pauses his movements to glance at you from under impossibly long eyelashes, jade green eyes glistening up at you.

“I missed you too, sweetheart. So so much.” His voice is soft, as if he’s handling the peacefulness around you so delicately and it causes the overwhelming emotion to well in your chest and choke up your throat. Arthur sees this, trying not to be too taken with his own surprising amount of emotion himself, and relieves you of your job of a response by directing his attention to the buttons of your shirt. You don’t remember him pushing your jacket off your shoulders, but there it lies on the floor beside the entrance to your tent, so he must have.

Despite the juxtaposition of such dainty buttonholes and such large fingers, Arthur expertly undresses your top half until you’re bare to him. He takes no time at all to take one of your nipples into his mouth, kissing and sucking at it with a hunger you feel right in your toes. You moan loudly, unable to stop yourself after yearning for this very feeling for so long.

Arthur coos and shushes you and it vibrates across your skin, not helping you stay quiet in the slightest. The hand not tugging on his dirty blonde locks reaches between your two longing bodies to begin to unbuckle his belt. You can feel your own heartbeat throbbing between your legs, your coil growing tighter and tighter by the second. It’s been almost 3 months since your bodies have joined like this, and yet you’re not sure you can wait another minute.

You’re purring for Arthur, twitching and grinding as your hand fumbles desperately at the belt. His absence from your skin is agony the second he pulls his hips back to sit up straight. Spotting your downright bratty expression, bottom lip protruding in a pout, Arthur chuckles lowly, “Patience, baby… I gotta get these damn clothes off us.” He gestures to his belt, still very much buckled around his waist. Definitely not your fault. He was being far too distracting.

He’s quick, you’ll give him that, shedding his clothes without taking his eyes off you. You burn under his stare, even more so when he crawls back on top of you to slide your boots off one by one and peel your pants and undergarments down your legs.

The heat radiates off his huge body, his cock pulsing with need. The way he’s putting his weight into his arms to stop from crushing you with his weight adds a definition to his already beautifully sculpted body. Reaching down, you brush the tip of your finger oh so gently over his rosy head, finding a bead of cum already leaking, and you snap. You can’t wait a second longer, scratching and gripping at him like he’s the air you need to breathe.

“Please, Arthur, please I need you. S-So long, it’s been so long-” “Shh, I know, princess, I know. I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Gonna take care of your pretty little cunt, I promise.” He soothes you, though his own voice is shaky from the very effort of restraining himself, maintaining his control to not drive into you and ruin you. While he whispers to you, he lines himself up at your entrance and you quiver in anticipation.

In all your years before you met Arthur, you never really saw sex as anything but something to give, or worse, something to be taken from you. You never truly understood, not until you met Arthur, who taught you it’s something to share, to experience. With Arthur, it’s different. It is connection and pleasure and it’s wonderful and god damn it, it’s addictive. So when Arthur slides into you, letting out a visceral, guttural groan as he does, everything is right in the world.

You feel so full, especially when Arthur pushes all the way to the hilt, connecting you completely at the pelvis. The moan that escapes your lips is downright obscene and Arthur crashes down into your mouth to swallow it.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s been so long, or the emotion of it all, but you swear you can feel everything. Every vein and ridge, every twitch and movement of his perfect cock as Arthur slowly starts to move in and out of you.

“Fuck… s-so good, darlin. So tight- y’feel so fucking good, princess…”

You’ve never hurtled so close towards a climax so quickly in your life. His torturously slow, deep thrusts drag into your sweet spot every fucking time and trying to hold back brings a blur into your vision. Your own hips grind against his, Arthur gripping into your flesh to guide you perfectly in time with him.

“I-I’m so close already, Arthur… fuck…” You breathe out, your breath tickling Arthur’s ear and sending a visible shudder down his spine. He looks proud at your admission.

“You missed me that much, huh? Gonna cum for me already, darlin’?”

He gives you no time to respond, pressing a thumb to your clit and rubbing in time with everything else. You implode, pulling Arthur down to catch the scream you’re about to wake everybody up with. It has never felt so intense, and with every thrust Arthur fucks into you it only grows and grows, shattering you to pieces for Arthur to fix back together again.

When you return, a rhythmic thudding in your ears, the first thing you see is Arthur, of course. His jaw is fluttering madly, a bead of sweat clinging to his forehead but the candlelight makes him look ethereal. You still can’t believe he’s here, alive.

Tears start to glisten in your eyes. You’ve never cried during sex before, not for anything positive, at least, but somehow this doesn’t feel wrong. Arthur slows again, watching you, and you spot an extra shine to his own jade orbs. He knows. He feels it too.

He’s right there with you. As he always is.

He brushes a piece of hair stuck to your forehead away, and the gesture is enough to send the tears falling down the same worn path on your cheeks as before.

“I love you, Mr. Morgan…” “I love you, Mrs. Morgan…”

It seems to become too much for Arthur to stay still, and you’re glad for it. You’re desperate for the friction, already flying towards another orgasm. He’s really fucking into you this time, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in. He’s groaning and growling and you decide in that moment that it’s your favourite sound in all the world.

“I… I ain’t gonna last much longer, baby…”

“C-Cum in me…” “Huh?” He slows, shuddering at the exertion required to control his movements, “I-”

But you’re not listening to his protests, your nails digging into the skin of his back and ass and anywhere else you can reach to urge him forwards again.

“Please Arthur, I-I need you… I need you to cum with me, I need you with me…” you plead with him, not truly understanding your need but honouring it. You’ve been without him for so long, you deserve him with you now.

He appears to consider you for just a moment, before diving down to lock your lips with his. His tongue delves into your mouth, tasting every bit of you and he starts to pump into you unreservedly. His body grinds against yours and the friction is perfect and you’re so fucking full and before you can even try to hold back, you’re cumming again, stars scattering your vision, heart pounding out of your chest to find release from it’s mortal, physical cage. Your inner walls twitch around Arthur’s length and this time, he doesn’t hold back either.

His eyes fly open and lock onto yours as you both climax together. It’s vulnerable and strange, but perhaps more connected than you ever thought possible for two people to be.

Arthur’s cock twitches inside you, pumping out his spend as he groans viscerally, completely losing control of his rhythm as he thrusts into you one last time, harsh and deep. You’ve never experienced this before, with Arthur or any other man, normally erring on the side of caution when it came to such matters, but even as you come down you can’t bring yourself to regret it. Whatever you and Arthur just experienced together felt spiritual, and worth much more than a little risk.

Arthur collapses, even as depleted as he is still considerate enough to collapse onto his elbows and not crush you. He slides out of you, earning a little wince, and rolls to the side so you can rest your head on his chest. It’s like a locket that’s been ripped apart, finally fixed together with the most satisfying click.

═══════☆═══════

Two months later, life has returned to its equilibrium. You and Arthur are perhaps clingier, still in a sort of second honeymoon phase where you just can’t seem to keep your hands off each other, more so than usual. It’s a side effect of prolonged solitude, you’re sure.

The first time it happens, you blame Pearson and think nothing of it. It’s pretty early in the morning and you’re sitting with Tilly and Abigail, peeling potatoes for the stew tonight. Abigail is venting her frustrations about when John did this and John said that, and everything feels so normal. Pearson arrives, throwing a rather large, rather dead fish onto the table you’re leaning against and you feel the thud from the weight of it vibrate against your back.

It isn’t until the smell invades your senses that everything starts to feel off. It smells exactly like all the other fish Pearson has ever slammed onto that poor table, which doesn’t explain why you immediately lurch forwards, grabbing an empty bucket and throwing up your breakfast. The fish stench is suffocating and all you can do is get the hell away from it, not noticing when Abigail’s brows knit together almost… knowingly?

You skip the stew that night.

―

The second time it happens, you try not to think about it. You’re riding Diesel and almost don’t make it off him in time. There is nothing to set you off, no horse shit or rotting animal at the side of the road, and yet in an instant your stomach feels like it has been flipped upside down.

The sheer volume of your retching catches Arthur’s attention and he tugs on the leather reins in his hands to steady his mare.

“Darlin’? Y’alright?”

His concern is evident in his tone and in the tight line between his brows, which deepens when he finds you unable to respond in anything but a frantic nod. He dismounts, spurs clicking against the dusty ground when he approaches you.

“Oh, sweetheart… that’s it, easy, easy… you’re okay…”

You feel gentle circles rubbed into the tense muscles of your back as you try to get through this again. It’s not lost on you that Arthur is speaking to you like a spooked horse, but it actually really does help. (You decide to prioritise peace of mind and not psychoanalyse why that is). Eventually, it relents and you regain your composure, albeit somewhat less gracefully than you’d have liked.

“Sorry… I don’t know what’s gotten into me, maybe I ate somethin’.”

Your apology for something you can’t help earns you a sad smile from your husband, who places a loving kiss on the top of your head before reaching for your discarded hat and putting it back on for you.

“Y’don’t gotta apologise. I gotcha, darlin’.”

You know he does.

He always does.

―

The third time it happens, the luxury of denial is stolen from you. It’s early enough that your view while you sit with Abigail drinking coffee involves glorious hues of orange and pink scattered around the rising sun. It’s peaceful, tranquil. The warmth of the little metal mug in your hands and Arthur’s jacket around your shoulders is enough to ward off the fresh morning chill in the air.

There is absolutely no warning when it hits, when it happens again. You’re so goddamn sick (no pun intended) of hurling. Your eyes water and your throat hurts a little and you curse under your breath when it’s over. Abi is beside you, rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you. She waits until it’s over before speaking hesitantly.

“Uh, can I ask you somethin’?”

You nod, eyes still red and glistening as you swirl coffee around your mouth to take away from the awful, acidic taste lingering.

“When did you last bleed?”

“What, like an injury? Uh, I cut my hand couple days back, but I don’t see what-“

… Oh fuck.

═══════☆═══════

The anxiety bounces around your body and you decide that you’ve become far too acquainted with the concept of nausea. You can actually tell the difference between nerves twisting your stomach and… well, let’s say it as it is: morning sickness. This is the former, you deduce, spinning both your engagement and wedding ring around your finger to give your hands something better to do than carve fingernail-shaped moons into your palm. He should be home any minute now. Any minute now and it will all change forever.

It’s quite late, but the poker game Arthur was scoping out for potential jobs is known to last a while. You’re the only one still awake, poking the embers of the campfire to keep yourself as comfortable as possible.

You hear hooves hitting dry dirt first, and it seems to trigger your fight or flight response. God, you’d love to run away from this, but that is pretty much impossible, so fight it is. It’ll be the greatest fight of your life, you’ll soon learn, one you’re privileged to be a part of. But right now, it feels like an all-consuming unknown.

Arthur can tell something is wrong the second he sees you. You’re terrible at hiding things, especially from him. He always reads you as though you have a poster advertising your feelings printed on your forehead. Arthur dismounts, kissing you tenderly on the temple and wrapping his arms around you.

“What’re you still doin’ up, darlin’? Is everything alright?” You can feel his worry vibrating in his chest as you nuzzle into his embrace.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I just… Can we talk? I kept the fire goin’.” You say it into his shirt, reluctant to move from this hold.

“Of course…” there’s something in his voice, a tense apprehension that really doesn’t help the knot contorting itself in your gut.

While you’re more than capable of keeping a fire going, Arthur is an expert, and has it healthily burning within seconds of you sitting down on the overturned log the gang has fashioned into a bench. You’re back to spinning your beautiful gold bands around your finger, trying to remember to breathe in and out every so often.

“What’s goin’ on, sweetheart?” His voice is so soft, so kind that it makes you want to cry. But you promised yourself you wouldn’t until you’d told him, because this might just be the most important conversation you’ve ever had, and you definitely won’t get through it if you’re a blubbering mess.

“I, uh… I… somethin’s happened.”

You hear his breath hitch in his throat and Arthur leans towards you, completely enveloping your hands in his. They’re sandwiched in now and you can’t fiddle with your rings anymore.

“What? What happened? Was it Micah? If he’s said somethin’ to you, I’ll kill him, the rat bastard-”

“No, no, it’s… as much as I’d love to see that, it’s not him.”

The tension releases. Just a little bit.

“I’m pregnant.”

Oh wait, there it is.

The silence is deafening, even though you’re almost certain it isn’t actually silent out here right now. There's a fire going and crickets are just metres away, you’re just shutting down with nerves.

The normally so often tense, fluttering jaw of Arthur Morgan is slack, his eyes wide and gaping at you, occasionally flicking down to your so far bump-less belly. (You should know- you’ve been obsessively looking in a mirror any chance you get for some sort of sign that this is really happening).

Say something. Please say something. Please don’t be angry. Oh, God please don’t hate me.

“I-I… You’re pregnant?” He repeats, reassuring you that you haven’t actually gone deaf, though his tone holds no indication of anything but shock. That’s probably fair…

You nod, hands instinctively reaching over your belly. It feels… weird. Holding your hands over your baby. Yours and Arthur’s baby.

“It happened a couple months back, when you got back from The Grizzlies, I think… I-I’m sorry, Arthur. I shoulda’ been more careful and-and…” You’re rambling, filling a silence that probably should just be allowed to be a silence.

“There… There’s gonna be a baby?”

There. Right there, adorning Arthur’s beautiful features, is the pull of a smile. It chokes you up instantly, so far deep in nightmares of arguments and unhappiness that you hadn’t even considered the good. You start to nod, a little bit of your fringe falling in your face.

“Yeah… There’s gonna be a baby. Our baby…”

“Our baby…” He repeats, his arm raising to brush the hair away from your eyes in such a natural manner it feels like it’s just his instinct to care for you. It is his instinct to care for you, Arthur has shown you that in every minute of every day of your marriage, and suddenly you’re not sure why you’ve been so scared.

“I’m gonna be a dad?” He still seems in disbelief, but that’s normal. It’s taken you a few days to come to terms with it, and even then the fingernail marks in your palms are still red raw.

“You’re gonna be a dad.”

It hits him. Really hits him and he all but throws himself into you, scooping you up and spinning you around as he laughs unreservedly.

“Well goddamn, I’m gonna be a Daddy!”

You laugh with him, worries and anxiety a distant memory as your feet swing around in the air. You’re probably waking the camp up, but you don’t care all that much. Right now, you’re the happiest girl in the world.

A baby. There’s gonna be a baby. Arthur’s baby.

Really, it’s the greatest gift a cowgirl could ask for.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan x y/n #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redepmtion 2 #arthur morgan rdr #rdr2 arthur #rdr valentines change

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yardofangels · 5 months

Note

merry christmas gorgeous! how are you doing? hope you get a big ass Austrian under the tree this year! that being said, what does König think of christmas traditions? does he have a favorite? what kinds of gifts does he get?

omg merry christmas and happy holidays!!

im doing okay, so so so tired. working retail this christmas season has me DEAAADDDD

but this idea has me AAAALLLIIIIIVVVEEEEEE

unfortunately, no Austrian under my tree. devastating, really. but hopefully if there's no Austrian here, they must be with you!!

making the executive decision here to add a little smut. maybe its self indulgence, but i know some of ya'll will enjoy it, you little nasties. feel free to skip it if you like, everything non-smut related comes first!!!

---

könig loves christmas. perhaps it's his central european upbringing, but he finds the spirit really comforting and reminisces over all the traditions from his childhood. he's not particularly into the 'white christmas' thing, he much prefers a christmas adorned with a little sense of spooky and will relate aaaalllllll the krampus myths to you by the light of the fire. just to see if he's able to scare you because he's mean

his favourite part of christmas is the food. the warm, home-cooked meals. the spices and seasonings that have you feeling toasty and calm well after the embers die out. he is truly impressed when you make a batch of pfeffernüse, and he surprises you with a bottle of his! own! mulled! wine!

he hands it over looking so proud of himself. a big cheesy grin on his face as he's already grabbing two glasses, so he can get your reaction to a taste test.

and he of course hits the nail on the head. it's delicious. he should be proud of himself!!

as for gift-giving, he struggles a bit when getting you gifts. as per usual, christmas always sneaks up on him far too quickly, and all of a sudden there are five days till he's supposed to give you something and he hasn't thought about it, much less started shopping.

but, he pulls it off!! success!! you watch as the space under the tree slowly gets filled over the course of the week. his gifts for you finally joining your gifts for him.

he pampers you, naturally. how could he not? generally steers to all the things that are going to make you feel pretty or expensive, because he wants you to feel like you look good, too.

buys you expensive-smelling perfume he swears you mentioned in march, skin-care you might have brought up in may, a book or two he thinks you told him about in july, a pair of shoes you raved about in september, a dress he saw in november that reminded him of you, and more.

he really does stun you with how much he remembers, and the fact that he did almost matters more to you than the gifts themselves. he puts so much thought into what he gifts you, and then has the audacity to ask you if it's enough. if you like them.

you pounce on him, knocking his stupid little christmas hat off and sending him backwards, dragging you with him. you giggle and cover him in kisses, mumbling in between them how wonderful he did. that you love it. he lights up, squeezing you tighter.

he stops you for a moment, saying he has one more thing.

pulls out a little box from his pocket, and drops it into your hand. watches with delight as you pop the lid and see a customised necklace, with a little pendant that says "K." on it. you get a bit teary, and ask him why he got this in particular for you.

he tells you it's so nobody mistakes that you belong to him.

alr a bit of smut below!!

GOOOOOOOD does he love sex in december. he loves how sensitive you are to his cold hands trailing your body, he loves how hot you get when you're trapped by his body heat and the thick blankets, he loves you in those skimpy pjs that do nothing to shield you from the freezing air, he loves that you always beg him to warm you up.

but he won't just take you in the bed on the cold nights. nope. he'll have his way with you anywhere. he doesn't know what it is, but he always seems to get more horny in the cold months. he just can't help himself, he'll do it anywhere.

in the kitchen while you're cooking dinner, lifting you onto the countertop so he can bury himself in you.

on the couch in the afternoon, letting his hand slide up between your thighs, then telling you to concentrate on the movie until you cave and crawl into his lap.

in the steamy morning showers you share, claiming that your gingerbread-scented body wash makes you smell too good to resist.

all through the month, his go-to excuses are "you're cold", "i'm cold", or "it's an early present." he's almost relentless, so you come to make a guessing game out of which one it's going to be. you always tease him about it, but it's not his fault! you just keep him so warm and cozy :((

ADOOOOORES cock-warming on the particularly nippy nights, too. he promises it's for sharing body heat and that it isn't uncommon among couples in the winter where he's from. but you know that's a bold-faced lie, you see the glint in his eye. you can feel the way he throbs inside you, and clenches his jaw against the skin on your neck.

nothing confirms that he's lying more, though, than when you are gently awoken by him. you think it must be serious, because he's usually adament on not waking you up.

but you turn your head and his entire face is red, with his puppy dog eyes staring at you.

"i can't concentrate on anything else, meine liebe. you were squeezing me in your sleep. please, let me take you. you'll be even warmer with my cum in you."

#irisintothevoid #irispenandpaper #iris answers #konig call of duty #call of duty mw2 #mw2 #konig cod #konig x reader #konig imagine #konig smut #GOD HES SO SCRIMBLY #he is a big festive person tbh hes just quiet about it #he doesnt like sharing it with anything more than immediate family #christmas is very...personal to him he guesses??#omg this is so long sorry for slaying again

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 2 months

Text

TEMPORARY THINGS, chapter 3

Your first few weeks on set go by in a blur of learning the ropes. You follow Briony around a lot and listen to her use words you’ve never heard, like striking and dolly grip. You learn the difference between a first assistant camera and second, though it doesn’t seem to make much sense when Maggie points around nonchalantly and gets interrupted by a joke coming from the walkie-talkie on her hip.

It was going well! Aside from whatever whirring now thumps in your chest when Brett comes up beside you. You’re still in good impression mode for another, like, 3 weeks.

“Hi,” he says, a smile and nod when you look up to see him. “Hopefully you’re liking this lot so far?”

“So far,” you nod, appreciative of his inquiry. “But I also heard it takes a few weeks for you all to turn into divas.”

He pulls a hand to his chest in mock offense. The jacket he’s wearing belongs to his character, but the color suits him well. “I usually wait until at least halfway through!”

“Hellooo,” Maggie sidles up and smiles at both of you. Jason’s right behind her and when the four of you stand in a make-shift circle, you’re acutely aware of the way Jason angles himself toward you.

“We’ve got a lot to get through today--wanted to have you hear all of this as well,” Jason says this to you in particular before Maggie launches into some sort of schedule. She’s listing numbers and tasks and referencing scenes by shorthand lingo that only makes half sense.

It’s weird, you realize, that while you’re here on set and working alongside them, your job is different in almost every way: it’s focused entirely on him. Which is maybe a bad thing, seeing as your stomach still does this little flip when you notice the dimple on his cheek that you remember from Day 1.

Lucky for you, though, most of your time on set is spent in Jason’s office. Scheduling his travel and handling his emails and pulling the strings behind the scenes so his actual job here was easier. You’re in constant contact with his manager, his nanny, even sometimes seeing messages from his ex or his friends come through before you pass them right up the ladder.

Briony pops in and out, often passing messages from Jason to you and then in return. She was the coffee kid, still young enough to be excited by that type of task and good enough to never mess up an order.

Poppy hurries by and after you commit the entire shooting schedule of the day to memory, you return to Jason’s office to actually get your work done. Today, primarily, was to be spent going through emails and calendars, plugging in meetings and finalizing his schedule for the next two weeks before filming really picked up.

But there’s a knock on the door that grabs your attention before your inbox is even open. Brendan’s there, a binder in hand and a hesitant smile when you both realize you’ve never been alone in a room together.

“Hi,” he says a bit awkwardly. “Y’know where Jason is?”

“He was with Paul and Jenna near Rebecca’s office,” you hoped you were getting the names right, blending real people with characters in the same way that didn’t trip up the rest of them. “Anything I can help with?”

He holds your gaze for a second, almost skeptical, but then decides he’ll at least give it a shot.

“I’m looking for a list of scenes we’re shooting today. Not the actual schedule that got sent out but the list of ones Jason wants to do if we can move more quickly than everyone thinks we can.”

You stand from your spot on the couch and nod thoughtfully, walking towards his desk as your eyes start to scan the piles of paper. You’ve learned his system bit by bit: the pile on the left is Lasso-related but not urgent. The pile on the right is more personal, with a higher level of urgency. Work-related urgent things get put on top of his laptop, or, if he seems to think it’s really important, sometimes he takes a picture of it and emails it to himself.

As of now you find it mostly adorable that a guy in his mid-forties is sending himself emails with picture attachments so he doesn’t forget stuff. You’ll have to give him a crash course in the reminders app at some point.

You locate the piece of paper you saw him scribbling on yesterday, the red ink of the pen he clips into his pocket smudged in the corner. Today’s scenes are listed out in the same shorthand code you’ve heard Maggie use, Jason’s chicken scratch is in the margins in red ink.

You hold it up before you look back towards Brendan. His brows are arched when you take a step over and deliver, what you assume, is exactly what he was looking for.

He scans it. Nods.

“Three extra scenes sounds ambitious to me,” you try to crack a joke, feeling weird about the fact that you’ve yet to bond with Brendan.

“You can read his handwriting?” He looks up at you again, more quickly this time, surprise on his face when you nod.

“Yes--yeah,” you stammer like this is an embarrassing admission. “Should I not be able to?”

“Jessie always complained,” he shrugs, eyes back down to the piece of paper you’d handed over.

“It’s messy as shit but I figured if I can’t read his handwriting then we’re all fucked.”

The corner of Brendan’s mouth flicks into a smile, a tiny laugh before he salutes you in farewell and his footsteps fade down the hallway.

April 2022

The end of March sputtered more rain onto the London streets than you’d ever seen in Los Angeles. Maggie promised it wouldn’t be like this the whole time, but now, on the third rainy Friday in a row, you were beginning to think your friend was a liar.

“It’s bad luck,” Jason comments as he looks out the window into his backyard, “not bad weather.”

Thunder booms overhead and the British Airways website logo keeps flickering on the page, please be patient while we locate your booking!

“You’re beginning to sound like a London apologist,” you look up at him from your laptop screen, eyebrows arched to challenge his statement. The backyard gets lit up again, the line of trees overhead is visible in the flash of lightning that cracks open the sky.

He smirks at your retort, “forgive me for not wanting you to hate the place you agreed to move.”

His hands are in his pockets but he moves to sit on the couch across from you. You showed up 20-minutes ago, laptop in tow after he heard you mention something on set about your travel plans to Amsterdam.

“London could have been on fire and I would still have come,” you think aloud as the page blinks back to life. “Okay, here,” you sit up. “Booking 1430-3925-098, business class to Schiphol.”

“Cancel it.”

“You’re sure?” You look up at him now, finger hovering over the trackpad.

“Positive,” he stands and nods. “Red or white?”

“Hmm?”

You click the button, Yes, I’m Sure!, but then notice he’s waiting for you to reply.

“Wine,” he laughs. “Red or white?”

You pause, is this a test? Is having a glass of wine with him on a Friday night in his living room crossing a line? No, you decide when he holds your gaze for a moment. If it wasn’t crossing a line with Kyle or Reese or any other boss you’ve had, it’s not crossing a line with him.

And besides, he’s not your boss, technically.

“Red.”

He smiles at your answer and makes his way towards the kitchen. “So why would a fiery London not be a deterrent?”

You set your laptop on the coffee table, a few steps over to stand in the doorway as he pursues his wine rack.

“Sorry?” You’re confused now, still watching when he scans the label of a bottle before he sets it on the Island.

It was a long week. You’d been on set every morning at 6:30am. Most days you left work around 4 or 5, and Jason was good about making sure you took lunch breaks and had enough coffee and knew all the good places to hide for five minutes of quiet when the set got too crowded.

“You said London could have been on fire and you would have moved here still,” he reminds you, his eyes watching for your reaction as you lean against the door frame.

You nod slowly and let your eyes flutter shut in embarrassment. What’s the most professional way to say: I got dumped and fired in the span of two weeks and my life felt like a living hell, so surely London ablaze would be manageable?

You decide there isn’t one, so you bend the truth as he searches for a wine opener. “I was in desperate need of a change of scenery.”

“Christmas in LA does suck,” he nods.

“Luckily I didn’t have to withstand that torture,” you walk over to the drawer on his right, the one that Jessie’s binder said had miscellaneous kitchen tools and utensils. You open it and pull out an opener and hand it over. “I was in New York for the holidays, left LA right after Thanksgiving.”

He opens the bottle and nods sympathetically. “Something about December in LA always feels…depressing.”

“Yeah,” you let out a breath at that word, one that circled and swirled in your brain for days and weeks before you figured out what the fuck you were going to do. Your parents were worried and your sister was three-seconds and a text message away from booking a flight out there to beat the shit of your ex, as she so kindly offered.

He pours the first glass, stealing a peek in your direction when he thinks you aren’t looking. You are.

“So--yeah, Los Angeles, change of scenery, back to New York. Now London.” He pours his own and then brings them both over, clinks his wine glass against yours before you both take a quiet sip in the kitchen. “What on earth made you take this job?”

You smirk, sure you can’t say what pops into your mind: a new city, a penchant for spontaneity after a crisis, the chance to work for your friend’s hot boss…

“Oh god,” he laughs, taking in your expression when your cheeks flush. “Did someone make you come here? Have you been kidnapped? Forced against your will?”

“No,” you roll your eyes at his playfulness and laugh. “I just--I really needed a job and a fresh start, I guess.”

He nods in understanding, takes another sip in the quiet. “Yeah, I get that.”

You’re not sure why it suddenly comes out, honest, blunt, a thud on the fancy tile of his kitchen.

“My boyfriend and I broke up--we lived together--then my job kind of exploded, well, Kyle’s life did too, so, Maggie took pity, I guess, when she realized my life was a shit show.”

He’s a little caught off guard by your confession, his eyebrows are slightly lifted and you can’t read: is it curiosity or concern? Like, did I hire a psychopath concern.

But that must not be it, because when you take a loud slurp of wine to drown out the awkward silence, he swallows and nods.

“Just because it feels like a shit show doesn’t mean it is,” he offers, a small smile before he continues. “My fiancé of a decade left me for someone 15 years younger a few years ago and then decided to give a fuck ton of interviews about it,” he smirks. “So--I get the whole shit show feeling.”

Your lips pull into a smile at his show of humanity, but then he gestures for you to follow him back to the living room. You’d known about his failed relationship, saw headlines and heard murmurs but didn’t pay much mind. You didn’t think in a few years time you’d be drinking wine on his couch on a rainy Friday.

“And now you’re single?” He asks over his shoulder, more of a follow up on your recent disclosure than the flirtation you wish it was. He sits down and you watch the way his knees knock together in khakis.

“First time in 6 years,” you say over the rim of your glass, returning to your spot on the sofa.

He’s watching you, like you’re throwing him off somehow or he’s intrigued. You realize you like it.

And then you remember why you’re here, tonight, in the first place: Amsterdam. The location shoot for the temp gig. Your temp gig job. Your job, him sitting across the room from you as not the man who writes your checks but still the one who generates them. Your laptop on the coffee table pulls you back to reality. You should probably not flirt with him.

“It’s canceled,” you nod towards the computer and then lift your Apple Watch as proof. “Confirmation email came through a few minutes ago.”

He shakes his head but smiles. “I can’t believe you thought I’d make you fly business class if I’m on a jet!”

You remember Maggie’s words from January, facetime a thousand miles away. Something along the lines of he’s amazing, Y/N, he’s so chill!

“You’d be really disappointed to hear what it’s like to work for Tom Cruise, then.”

He laughs, shifts on the couch and takes another sip. “I think it’s really shitty when people treat their EAs like regular assistants,” he shrugs. “Here’s this person who manages your whole life…arguably that means you’re more competent than I am,” he thinks aloud, a playful glance in your direction. A compliment? Maybe. Flirting? You hope.

Is that shitty? Is that weird and inappropriate or—worst of all—are you fully delusional?

“I’m going to pocket that for future reference,” you admit with a smirk.

He sips his wine and smiles, eyes you seriously from behind the glasses he puts on at the end of the day. “Just…know from here on out that you can book yourself as nice of a hotel room as you want, you know, within reason.”

You let your eyes bug out of your head. “Reason, like, the Presidential Suite at a Ritz Carlton, or?”

“Jesus,” a short laugh escapes, a comedic hint of suspicion is his eyes after he checks a text on his phone. “Maggie wasn’t kidding when she said you’ve been primarily A-list.”

“I would never,” you call back, a quick confession to make sure he knows you’re not that type of…employee? Temp? Whatever.

“Great, but still--we’re there for work, but you deserve to enjoy Amsterdam,” he gestures toward your laptop, like the British Airways website itself was a symbol of the upcoming business trip.

Maggie’s been excited for weeks. She babbled about it in the car on the way from Heathrow and Poppy’s been shouting out nightclubs and restaurants and places she wants to go most mornings in the makeup trailer.

You’ve never been to Amsterdam, but you’re excited nonetheless for a chance to see a new city in a new country. The last time you and Maggie were in Europe together was on your study abroad trip when you were both 21. Now it’s ten years later.

She bounces in one April morning to Poppy’s trailer while you’re sipping a hot coffee. One from the catering table because the one you sipped on your way here wasn’t enough.

“You’re exactly who I wanted to see,” her face lights up when she spots you in a chair beside Juno.

“Good morning,” you coo, grateful that Poppy’s trailer has become a bit of reprieve for you. You were right, a few weeks ago when you went out for your first Friday in London: Maggie and Poppy are tight, Juno and Briony and Hannah and the rest of the make up crew seem to be their own little friend group within the larger cast and crew. Ladies who stuck together.

Luckily, you were beginning to feel like a part of it.

“I’m thinking pubs and clubs,” she dumps a tote bag on the counter, contents spill out but Poppy doesn’t seem to mind.

“What?”

“We need to start planning for Amsterdam, babe.”

“It’s a work trip, babe,” you remind her with narrowed eyes, a quick glance around the room to see if anyone else was aware of Maggie’s scheming.

“Work trip, hah!” Juno pipes up from her chair. She’s got curlers in, eyes still sleepy since the sun’s just made it above the horizon. “Someone tell Y/N about Lasso work trips.”

“Work trips,” Poppy turns to see you--she’s getting a palette ready for Juno, all of her brushes and tubes of lip gloss are organized sociopathically by color, size, and brand. “Are only half work.”

A woman after your own heart, though the results of your organizing episodes usually only last a few weeks.

“Half work? How does that…work?” You ask, thankful that you don’t have to get mascara swiped on your lashes before your eyes are fully open.

“We shoot long days and we’re busy,” Maggie nods honestly, she’s strapping her walkie-talkie onto her waist, snaking the wire of her headset up and behind her ear. “But when work is over, it’s playtime.”

You watch your oldest friend closely. “Sounds oddly sexual,” you comment around another slurp of coffee.

“It can be sexual if you want it to be,” Maggie wiggles her eyebrows now. “If you’re feeling up for getting down and dirty!”

Oh boy. You blink at her a few times, memories of your last trip to Europe come flooding back. Maggie writing your number on the bathroom stall of a club in Rome, encouragement at every hour of the day to get loose and get laid. Unfortunately for you, this trip might be oddly reminiscent.

“Yeah?” This pique’s Juno’s interest. “Someone in need of a little hanky-panky?”

They all giggle, you choke down more coffee but wipe your mouth when there’s a knock on the door. It opens, the whole trailer goes quiet when Jason’s on the other side.

“Morning,” he nods, a few steps in before he slinks down to the chair next to Poppy with an amused smile. “You know the gossip’s good when it goes completely silent.”

“Not gossip,” Maggie locks eyes with you in the mirror and smirks. “Just some chatter about Y/N’s lack of a love life,” she smiles, an apologetic but excited one.

“I work more than I sleep,” you defend loud enough for the whole trailer to hear—-all six of you in there.

True. Until, about, six months ago.

“Lack?” Jason’s eyebrows are arched in the mirror.

You hope Maggie doesn’t see the way your cheeks flush, a moment where his eyes find yours in the reflection above Poppy’s drawers and drawers of makeup. You wish you could vanish into thin air.

How—in only a few weeks—does it feel like you and Jason are in on your own little secret?

“This is only my second cup of coffee so why don’t we talk about Maggie’s childhood obsession with webkinz?” You propose, a loud slurp and a ghoulish look in her direction to show her you mean business.

You had just as many years of ammunition as she did. If embarrassing each other was the goal, you could at least play the game.

“Weren’t you a bit old for that, babe?” Poppy asks with a teasing smile, fingers focused on the curlers in Juno’s hair.

“I didn’t give a shit that I was 16 and still into it,” Maggie defends, a dismissive eye roll when she picks up her phone from the counter. “The heart wants what it wants.”

A dodged bullet, for sure. You’re able to excuse yourself shortly thereafter to make sure Jason’s got what he needs for the day. Briony did the check of his office, grabbed breakfast and delivered a bagel to the makeup trailer. Which means you’re free to move about in search of the people you need today.

Joan from the location department, Tom from Post-Production—Maggie said he’d be easy to find because he always wears hats but is impeccably bald.

You get the write-up you need from Joan and that’s when Briony falls into step beside you. She shows you the way down the maze of halls and through the lot to an office where Tom sits at a desk. Once you’ve got what you need from him (a firm answer to a question of Jason’s he’s been dodging all week), Briony sits with you on the sidelines of a scene in the locker room.

Jason, Phil, Brendan, and Brett are shooting, the set’s loud before someone calls for quiet.

Briony silently breaks her granola bar in half and offers you some, Greg--who works in sound--offers you both a warning glare: I better not hear rubbish.

So you munch quietly side by side, feeling somewhat mesmerized by the way that when the camera’s rolling, Jason and his scene partners feel like the only people in the room. The scripted jokes they’re cracking are so good, it makes you regret never finishing season 1.

You don’t remember finding him nearly as attractive back then as you do now, sitting behind the cameras and the boom, a walkie-talkie on your own hip and a pit in your stomach when you realize this isn’t even a thought you should be having.

But you can’t help that warmth pools in your belly when he rolls up his sleeves or laughs from across the room. Okay, so, maybe this isn’t just jet lag.

CUT!--the room buzzes back into motion, Maggie’s zipping around the set and shouts to Greg, can we start again at line 47? Poppy goes to powder Brendan’s forehead, Briony’s on her feet and then the whole thing starts again.

That happens another three times before there’s actually a break. Props weren’t delivered on time and so a different scene is getting staged but it doesn’t mean much to you. You’ve checked your own inbox eight times today and Jason’s twelve.

But today was quiet. Showing up and making a stellar impression in the first few weeks was definitely a good thing, but had you been…too productive? Had you accidentally fucked yourself over because now you’re sitting here looking like a moron because you didn’t have something to do?

You booked a zoo tour for him and his kids next month, finalized the rest of his schedule for this week, arranged his travel to see friends in Spain later this summer. You’d organized his home office last week, updated his business accounts spreadsheet and even managed to book him an appointment with an eye doctor after he told you it’d been three years (ridiculous).

Jason walks up and says something to Greg, who’s pretending to give Briony shit about the granola bar. Briony’s smiling up at him like he’s just told her Christmas is coming early.

“Hey,” you greet Jason with a smile, hand him his cell phone that’s been tucked into the bum bag around your shoulders.

“I saw the tickets to the zoo at Battersea Park--thanks for putting that together.”

You nod, glad you were able to come up with something he could do with his kids next weekend when they’d be in town. An advertisement on the tube is what led you to buying three tickets on a whim, just in case.

You smile and look to your left, for some reason nervous that someone will see how awkward you’re being and misread it. It doesn’t matter, though, because he reaches forward and his hand’s on your elbow in a way that makes your face feel warm.

“I mean it,” he says, a nod to himself and to you, one that lets you know he’s touched by the gesture.

“Yes, yeah, sure,” you nod like an idiot, immediately embarrassed by the way his touch leaves your mouth unable to form consonants or vowels.

“Jason, go talk to Mark about camera angles,” Maggie appears and slaps him on the shoulder, a smile on her face when she playfully barks the order.

Phil’s hand is outstretched suddenly, a reminder that time on set moved faster than anywhere else. “Y/N, could you take a picture of me in this for my mum?”

You accept the phone and snap a photo, Maggie’s answering a text and then gets tugged away by a PA.

You turn to face Jason when Phil walks away, you’re ready for a request or a task or anything. But he just holds your gaze for a second, a pleased smirk spreads across his face.

“Anything I can get you?”

He shrugs, “I’m good.”

It dawns on you, right then, that he walked over here to talk to you. Well, maybe not you. Maybe you were just in his way. Maybe he was looking for someone else but he saw you and it reminded him to say thanks.

But either way, right now it’s just you and Jason standing here and it feels good to think that maybe he just likes being around you. Maybe the smirk on his face is because he sees the way your brain is short-circuiting. Luckily, he pulls you out of your crisis.

“Can you come to my trailer later, around 3? Before I have to help them shoot at Keeley’s office later? I can text you.”

You’re nodding and agreeing to it as you visualize your own calendar in your head. You’re supposed to get off at 4pm today, an evening to yourself and the idea of a glass of wine on the couch sounds especially nice now that you’ve realized your social skills are such shit.

“Perfect, great,” he says. “Apparently I have to go talk to Mark.”

You nod, he nods, and then he turns to leave you by the huddle of sound guys handling wires and knobs. You meet him in his trailer and handle the emails and errands he needs, grab a tea on the way home and you’re in the door at 4:49pm--and that’s with afternoon traffic.

London’s been sunny this week, you had wine with Maggie and Brett and Phil one night and you didn’t feel new. You felt normal.

Winter was fading into spring over the last ten days, it was starting to feel like you were your own little piece in the big puzzle you got thrown into. Brendan knew he could always count on you to laugh at his jokes--especially and specifically when they were aimed at Jason. Brett knows your childhood nickname and threatens to tell Phil every time you get dangerously close to calling him out for flirting with Maggie.

You don’t always feel like a transplant anymore, you feel like someone who’s starting to have a place. A tiny one, maybe off in the corner, but still, a place.

And when you left Jason’s trailer that afternoon, you thought it’d be the last time you saw him.

So, naturally, your eyes go wide when you find him beneath the light of your front door this evening. You’re in a sweatshirt and bike shorts, completely unprepared for company.

“Hi!” he says quickly, almost like he’s startled by the opening of the door, like he didn’t know if you’d be home or expected someone else on the other side of the knob. There’s a smile on his face that mirrors yours almost immediately. “Hey, sorry—to just show up here, like this.”

“How do you know where I live?” You narrow your eyes, a teasing but confident tone. All that does is give him a cheerful smugness that you regret immediately, one that makes his eyes scan your face before he shrugs.

“I know I’m not your boss, but I’m, like, not not your boss at the same time.”

You hold back a laugh and watch him, “what a blurred and confusing boundary…”

He smiles, “Which, all I mean by that is that Maggie sent the listing to me when she found it, I’ve actually known where you live since before you lived here,” he admits casually.

“Got it,” you step aside and he comes in, shuts the door behind himself before he meets your eyes again.

“How are you?” You ask, intrigued by his surprise visit but also not wanting to scare him off. You like the way he’s looking at you, your heart does a flip at the thought that he wants to be around you. Just like earlier today. Fuck.

“I’m good,” he says, you walk towards the kitchen and wave a bottle of wine in the air and he nods. “I got stuck late at work, I was walking and it started to rain.”

“You live like, two minutes from here…” you’re smiling despite the challenging statement, you grab a glass from an overhead cabinet.

He shrugs when he slinks into a barstool at your counter, apparently unfazed by your accusation when he comes off it easily: “yeah, I just wanted to say hi.”

You reach for a glass in the cupboard overhead and tease him over your shoulder. “Curious to see how Maggie allocated the living stipend?”

He sits up straighter now and plays into the bit, pushing his lips out in thought when he looks around your open concept kitchen and living room. “That and…”

He looks around the room again, his words hang in the air as he buys time. But his hair’s a mess and his watch isn’t on--so you know something’s up.

It clicks. He’s got something on his mind or something and he’s…trying to talk about it? To you?

Men! Sheesh. You try to relax your forehead as you pour him a glass so your confusion and shock isn’t misread as displeasure. Realistically, you’re touched he feels comfortable enough and the thumping in your chest is a dead giveaway if he can hear it when you deliver the wine.

“Shit day?” You ask, watching as his fingers wrap around the step. He takes a sip and shrugs.

“Yeah, shit day…shit month, shit year.”

You giggle into your own glass, take your first sip before nodding. “I know the feeling.”

“No, I shouldn’t--” he pauses and stumbles for a second, “I don’t mean to complain or sound like a dick.”

You shrug and offer a smirk. “You’re not a dick if you have a human emotion.”

He nods, watches the wine in his glass as a smirk crawls onto his face. He looks up at you. “My ex could argue that statement for two hours.”

“Could she?” You smile, nodding when you tell him: “I’m a pretty patient person.”

“Are you?”

“I am,” you laugh, “I like to think so.”

He lets out a tiny laugh at your comment, quiet for a second before he lets out an exhale. “I’m just stressed, really. Being showrunner this season is harder than I thought and it’s not even hard, it’s just more than I’m used to.”

You nod immediately. That makes sense and you see the fatigue on his face. You’d heard Maggie talk about it before: long hours, late nights, location shoots, freezing days, rewrites and props changes. TV wasn’t easy and you were already aware of that, only a few weeks in.

“I get that—but I think it’s normal to notice the learning curve when you’re doing something new.”

He nods, accepts it and holds his breath for a second. “Yeah, that’s…a good way to say it.”

He smiles at you softly, eyes coming up to meet yours quickly before he shrugs. “I know I’ll survive, it’s just—been a rough go of it, lately.”

“So what’s your release?” You ask.

His brows furrow together and the crease in his forehead lights something up inside you.

He says it like this hasn’t occurred to him at all. “My release?”

“How are you dealing with your stress?”

The confusion on his face turns into amusement when the corner of his mouth twitches toward your ceiling.

“So, nothing?”

He laughs. “I hadn’t thought about—doing anything, really.”

“Men,” you roll your eyes, moving towards the couch with your wine in hand. “The wine’s a nice place to start, but certainly not enough.”

He makes a face for a second, like he’s judging himself or imagining the terrible things you must think about him now that you’ve heard his feelings, but he stands to follow and listens intently when you almost open up.

“When my boyfriend dumped me and Kyle let me go, I stayed in bed for a good…two weeks,” you admit, a grimace on your face because you know it makes you sound like a loser. “But then my sister suggested I go to a rage room and it was amazing.”

“A rage room?” He laughs. “One of those places where you just break shit?”

“Smashing a TV to pieces is surprisingly therapeutic,” you tell him seriously.

He thinks on it for a second, nodding like he’s giving it real thought when he plucks at his lower lip. You can see the smirk he’s fighting, a sip of wine when your eyes dare him to say whatever he’s thinking.

“You don’t have to tell me--”

“But,” you say at the same time as he says it. A flash of embarrassment on his face when you raise your brows, reading him like a book, just spit it out.

“Why’d you get fired?”

Right. You knew it would come up at some point and even if Jason wasn’t really your boss, he definitely had the right to be curious.

“I only ask because I read her reference letter--she loves you.”

“She does love me,” you nod. “But she was having family issues and I wanted a raise and then I found out that her daughter was sleeping with my boyfriend.”

His lips form an ‘o’ involuntarily, the response you got from most people when they hear how the dominoes all fell at the same time.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “Fired might be a strong word, but, certainly how it felt.”

“Well, her loss,” he nods confidently. “I’ve seen the way you organized my desk drawers and it’s either witchcraft or psychoticism and I’m okay with either if it’s always this easy to find shit.”

“I’ll keep it up then,” you smile and take another sip.

“Sorry to just…show up, by the way,” he looks down at his own glass in hand, “and drink your wine.”

You had been looking forward to a shower and a night of watching trashy reality TV (though now you’d sworn off all of the Real Housewives). Other than that, your night was likely to consist of facetiming your mom and plucking your eyebrows.

Jason sitting at your counter with a smirk on his face didn’t bother you at all, but you certainly couldn’t tell him you were flattered that he came here.

You nodded to let him know it was no nuisance. “I’m always up for a glass of wine and talking you off the ledge.”

“That shouldn’t be part of your job description, though.”

“Do you know how many times I listened to Kyle complain about her friends or had to send gift baskets to them after fights?”

“I’m guessing a lot?”

“You venting about work stress is a walk in the park,” you reassure.

“Well, I’m glad,” he says solemnly, a moment when he holds your eyes and you feel your cheeks get warm.

You clear your throat, don’t be stupid, and force out a joke to act like whatever moment this was wasn’t problematic or weird or worse, enticing.

“So unless you have a daughter that will sleep with my boyfriend, we’re probably good.”

“My daughter’s seven,” a beat when he shrugs a single shoulder. “And you don’t have a boyfriend.”

You take a loud slurp from your wine--partly for comedic effect and party out of your own awkwardness--and smirk over the rim to match his. “Right.”

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

AN: WOW! HI! It's been a hot minute. I'm so glad to be posting this chappie and so appreciative of everyone's patience as my life evolves and writing has taken up a smaller portion of my time. I would love love love to hear what you think of this chapter and the story so far, I've been writing a lot the last few days as feb turns into march and I'm excited to share more!!!!

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ihopeinevergetsoberr · 3 months

Text

the counterpart

chapter 2 — if you’ve a lesson to teach me — i’m listening, ready to learn

pairing: viktor x fem!reader (no use of y/n, as usual)

word count: 3,7k

rating: explicit

cw: chess games stuffed full of sexual tension are finally HERE, viktor humbles reader (elegantly), reader is a smoker (it’s a modern 90s au, of course her lungs are cooked), mentions of blood and some nail biting injuries (reader has an anxious nail-biting problem). people who are good at chess and english: please come smack me if i wrote something ridiculous, since both of these are mostly self-taught. thank you.

ao3 link

part 3

—

Pop-quiz: what’s the quickest, stupidest, pathetically embarrassing to the point of biting off the nail on your pinky finger way of responding to White’s 1.e4 if your opponent is terrifyingly experienced?

Your teeth closed around the poor claw, nervously reducing it to a thin, fragile little husk, then yanking angrily at the tip of it with a neurotic little squint; eyelids twitching instinctively as it ripped all the way off to the very base of your nail fold.

The consequences of your risky Sicilian were staring at you demeaningly right from the board, sharply invading the retinas of each devastated eye with the misery of your predicament. Made you lick the creased corner of each dry lip with an alarmed shudder, wondering silently if your tiny act of autocannibalism passed more as a cry for help, or as a lamentable, hopefully lethal way out of the stalemate.

But you didn’t have the time to eat yourself alive with that miniscule of a nibble. The clock was ticking ruthlessly — no, but actually, what were you even thinking? Pulling such a stunt; utterly hopeless in front of your unpredictable rival.

So you stared — intimidated and crushed — right at your now queenless, unsolvable quandary; not brave enough to raise your drawn to the board gaze, knowing damn well that if you do — the copper orbs will swallow you whole with the very chair your competitive ass is nailed to.

But that’s precisely what you deserved. Some good, merciless spanking — but not for that lovely, inquisitive rear of yours. Oh no, your ego was the infamous asset on the receiving end of it.

And it made you feel so fucking stupid. Had you muttering a heated curse against the clenched cage of teeth — an angry scold for ever considering the events of the night you met him fruitful.

‘I shall bring the clocks.’

It’s funny how something as crucially significant can slip one’s mind like it was never even in there. You spent the rest of the week by the board, lazily rewinding Tal’s 1976 matches, with an occasional attack of positive nervousness. Crawling out of bed only to fetch a can of deliciously cool sparkling something, or to jump imperiously onto the windowsill, stretching each bare leg out under the cruel sunshine — so hot you could just hold your cigarette up in the air to light it. Your mind would wander back to Viktor — but not frequently. Only when you’d lay sprawled out on the sheets, haphazardly dropping the ashes into the flexure of them, musing dreamily about what opening you should play. Or when you’d fidget mindlessly with a rook or a bishop, spinning it slowly between each finger as you pondered silently who gets to play White in the very first game. Or — but this one was more of a guilty pleasure, actually — when you’d imagine that handsome face of his in deep astonishment, one brow cocking upwards as he would witness his own omission.

‘I shall bring the clocks.’

You’ve played with them before — and quite occasionally, to be frank. Back in the day you were quite the familiar face at every youth chess tournament — until it all came crashing down with college applications, forcing you to put the fervent passion aside. You were still mourning those peaceful years: no responsibilities, just playing chess and consuming books, feeding the insatiable mind with whatever meals you could grab from the library’s shelves.

And now here you were — wrapped up in missed assignments and a million academic burdens, hating your major with a passion more burning than the one you felt towards the board and those pretty sixteen pieces.

The arrangement Viktor offered you felt like a warm embrace you jumped into with no hesitation, eager to escape your desperate, chess-starved state.

But that endlessly slow Friday morning you’d run out of cigarettes. Groaning exasperatedly into the racket of damp from the overnight sweat pillows, you crawled out of bed, preliminarily throwing the empty box of tobacco treats into the darkest corner of your apartment — where the infernal July sun doesn’t shine.

Putting on your second skin made of restraining fabric felt like pure torture — and as much as you’d love to walk under that shining ball bare to escape an overheated death, the people outside would most likely not appreciate the bold gesture. Especially your new opponent; though if Jayce didn’t lie about him only having eyes for one queen — an inanimate, tiny and wooden one — the possibilities of Viktor even noticing your nude form were practically non-existent.

You slipped thoughtlessly into whatever relatively decent pair of pants plastered across the obscene clutter on the floor, swearing copiously as a bare foot stepped into something liquid and sticky — the remnants of your late night coffee-break, a dark quagmire staining the carpet. Now petulant, you made it furiously to the bathroom — to turn the combed hair into something acceptable, or, rather, something less revolting. Looking like a mad genius — which suited you partially, since you only deemed the former word relatable — you left the dorm in redundant rush, a chess board tucked firmly under your armpit.

It was still somewhat early for your rivalry little date: surprisingly enough, you grabbed a humble breakfast, restocked the nicotine supplies and even fed on them urgently and so very greedily in the soothing silence of a nearby park — and that still didn’t bring noon any closer, leaving you twenty endless minutes ahead of the arranged hour and negatively impatient.

Fuck it. Punctuality is certainly not a vice — and since your expertise in the field was impeccable, you were headed to the library shortly after failing to find that trait among the endless list of your actually contentious ones. Besides, your college always remains unaffected by the heat — it’s better to endure the waiting inside its comfortingly cool walls, instead of letting the vile season fry your last brain cells outside.

The quiet book shrine greeted you a tad bit too dryly. You passed the ever depleted librarian, trading a rushed, yet polite nod for her pretentious sigh, marking it the worst deal of the morning in your mental little planner. Eager to escape her tortuously meticulous eyes, you vanished into the labyrinth of shelves, humming a silly tune as your fingers ran over the row of books, searching for a decent one to occupy yourself with until Viktor shows up.

“Hm, ‘Introduction to Quantum Mechanics’, is it?” someone — you knew exactly who — whispered a gentle reproach precisely above your ear, almost wheezing it into your freshly untangled hair. Technically, freshly untangled just to see him — but you didn’t entertain that thought any further. A synevy hand, armed with a set of impressively long fingers, was laid atop the book your touch lingered on, teasing you with a fleeting knuckle brush.

“Excuse me?” you maneuvered with a subtle chuckle, spotting a spike of chestnut curls invading the corners of your peripheral vision. The man was sneaky and utterly undefeatable in that capacity — a calm, charming serpent, the one who comes and goes whenever he pleases.

His cane tapped against the floor with a dull thump.

“A truly peculiar subject,” Viktor observed, stroking a sturdy little spine of the manuscript before you. It had, indeed, taken you long enough to notice the cover your fingertips chose to stop at.

“I suppose so,” you mumbled, secretly admiring the shy intercourse your hands shared on top of a dusty book, watching him extract the ‘Introduction’ out of its secure slot on the shelf, then turned around to face your all too familiar intervention. Voluntarily crawling under the handsome obstacle of his shoulders, letting them block the exit as you leaned against the stand filled with other ‘quantum’ shenanigans.

“A woman of many talents, are you?” he cocked a bushy brow up, half-lidded gaze inscribing into your memory. Made your breath hitch somewhat cowardly at the proximity, and the amber in each sharp eye twitched, landing on your stilled expression.

“Perhaps,” you shrugged — a pathetic attempt at regaining some composure, “quantum mechanics is not one of them though.”

Viktor hummed, putting the book away with an understanding sigh.

“A pity,” he chuckled, chapped lips protruding into a pensive pout, “I’m yet to find other common grounds between us, then.”

“Don’t you think that’s unnecessary?” you queried, fingers drumming a light rhythm against the still nestled in your arm chess board, eager to turn it into your personal battlefield. “You’re not here to befriend me, Viktor.” “I would much prefer to make your acquaintance before we take it to the board,” he objected, flawless in his logic, “getting to know your opponent is… well, profitable. You might find their weaknesses while performing this so-called interest-autopsy.”

“Oh, are you a mortician now?” it came out unexpectedly bold — almost unnecessary flirtatious considering the context, but the comment seemed to humor him just fine, and he smiled, returning the shrug you offered him earlier.

“Eh, in a way,” he budged, filling the air with raspy laughter as his hand squeezed the handle of his cane.

“I see,” you nodded, watching him squirm oh so courteously in your powerful, grabby hands. At least that’s how it felt like to finally move him around — a treatment suited for a little pawn: relentless and hasty.

So you decided to push it further. A cheeky creature — you smirked, preparing for the much riskier next remark, had him humming inquisitively in pent up anticipation.

“A man of many talents, are you?”

Well, would you look at that. Check, and an immediate, flawlessly smooth mate, Viktor.

Except he didn’t get it. Dropped the tactful smile and surrendered to the panic, glaring at you like a boy who’d just experienced being flirted with for the first time in his life. As if he was utterly oblivious to your random little advances, staying there all wide-eyed and confused to the bone.

Viktor retreated. Turned around with a sharp sigh, inviting you to follow his lead with an adorable little gesture — as if challenging ou to have your way with him on the board now. His choice of a sparring room was obvious: you both walked into the reading hall at a slothful pace, simultaneously spotting a distant desk by the window, then exchanging shy, confirming nods before sitting down at it.

‘I shall bring the clocks.’

Your triumph was ruthlessly murdered by those infamous timers, of whose existence you’d so inconsequentially forgotten this very morning. You stared at them — puzzled and deservedly bitter, failing to notice a chair Viktor had obligingly moved out for you beforehand. Not so certain in your flawless victory anymore, you mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ and settled into the seat, softly placing the board on the table. Your opponent followed suit, crossing his lanky legs in a clumsy manner, haphazardly kissing the nose of your loafer with the evidently polished leather of his shoe, leaving a fresh smear behind.

“Sorry,” he blurted out, rushing to set up the pieces for you — an efficient gentleman, pretty hands not only a sight to behold, but also the nimblest of instruments. Had you laughing softly at his distinguished haste, head tilting to rest on the back of your palm.

“Don’t worry about it,” you protested, brushing him off with a careless shrug. “Are we doing the standard?”

“Ninety minutes for the first forty, yes,” Viktor confirmed, placing one last piece in its place. “Though by the looks of it: I’m certain I won’t need that many moves nor minutes to defeat you.”

“Are you bluffing to scare me away?” you teased, perfectly aware of just how wholeheartedly he meant that. Cocky or not — he really was talented. You’ve asked around. You had your ways. You knew you had a champion sitting before you. Setting up your board. Blushing awkwardly at your cruel flirtations.

“Of course not,” he objected, nonchalant. “I am merely making an observation. You look terrified of that clock. It was only natural for me to assume you’re not familiar with time limits.”

You huffed out a scoff, displeased with his sharp attentiveness. Merely making an observation. Does he always talk like a sophisticated professor?

He wasn’t exactly wrong though. You decided to allow him at least that mercy.

“It’s been a while since I played in a tournament,” you reluctantly admitted, lazily leaning back in your chair. “So yes, I haven’t dealt with clocks in a fat minute. But it’s nothing I can’t endure. Especially since you were kind enough to offer me the first move.”

Viktor didn’t get it either. His brow formed a perplexed arc, eyes abandoned their thorough examination of your face and flew instantly to the board, mouth dropped open to let out a gasp as he noticed that every single white piece was lined up on your side.

“Oh, how foolish of me,” he excused himself with a sheepish smile, scooping up a pair of pawns from their squares. You watched your potential advantage get swapped a few tortuous times, cursing the fuck out of whatever stupid call tearing that last cheeky remark off your tongue. You already knew it was far too long for your own good — but now the hatred was burning with a particularly lively enthusiasm.

You could have played White first if only you didn’t make him notice.

He could have let it slide.

Your pupils kept jumping between his fists, scared of leaning too much onto your rotten crutch of an intuition.

“Please, pick faster,” Viktor muttered, “sadly, I only have a few hours to indulge you with.”

With a grunt, you gave up the pitiful attempt of finding the white pawn through the gaps between his fingers. You didn’t even squint when the hand you nodded at unraveled before you, black glistening in it with glorious mockery.

Whatever, you hissed, coming to terms with your self-made quandary. Surely, you can beat him even without this little privilege.

You switched places with Viktor, the hostility on your physiognomy so ostentatious it had him dropping an apologetic chuckle. He was now facing you from the other side of the desk, hands tucked under the sharp chin in tacit anticipation.

Viktor started his timer. Grazed the button with the softest of taps, then rubbed a few fingers against the pad of his thumb — picking out your poison with a meditative hum. Reducing you to a tense, sweaty disaster in an instant, made you shake on the very edge of your seat.

His first move was so… predictable. White 1e4 is a classic. An axiom, if you will. A thing you were least expecting from this mystery of a man — wasn’t he supposed to destroy you with a more complex, niche opening? You froze, looking him persistently in the copper eyes. As if silently contemplating his decision, waiting for him to be absolutely certain.

But he pressed the button again, letting you shoot your reciprocal shot. Still wholeheartedly convinced it’s a trap, you timidly moved your pawn to c5. For better or for worse.

The first handful of moves felt quite… tasteless. You decided to be the pioneer: swallowed his d4 pawn and watched him mimic you shortly after — except he went for it with a preliminary prepared knight. Your boldness was nothing but an empty threat to him.

“Greedy much?” you needled with a vicious smile, moving to use your own knight in a frantic rush — turning it into a figurative shield from his sly tricks.

“You can’t win without sacrificing a piece or two,” he replied, taunting you with a crooked half-smirk. Moving his other knight to c3. Sneaky bastard.

“A piece or two?” you laughed, baring your teeth for him to witness your precious derision. No doubt imagining how he’d look with your fingers digging into his throat. “I plan to take much more than that.”

“Take whatever you want,” Viktor replied, too wrapped up in studying the board to pay any mind to your bragging. “Take all my pawns if you have to. I don’t need them to put you in a stalemate.”

You loved the quarrel while it lasted. Both on the board and whatever this sexy verbal bile-spitting was: you’d run away from him by hiding your king behind the bishop, he’d chase you with the peculiar positions of his pieces. It’s like he didn’t know what he was doing: forming a tiny row of pawns, covering the queen with both of his bishops, letting the knights remain still — evidently baiting you to attack, yet still keeping a respectable distance. The actual problem occurred much later though. After a heated session of running around you were done with him. It was pushing past your twentieth move — and Viktor still had almost all his pawns thrown around the place, with only a few substantial pieces missing. This eye for an eye situation — despite looking quite counterpart-ish — still didn’t entertain you as much as you predicted. He took your bishop — you got rid of his shortly after. He chewed your knight up — you were paying him right back.

But it wasn’t enough. You wanted it all, and that included his king lying lifeless on that damned board in an old-fashioned way of resigning.

You decided to go for the bishop’s pair. It seemed logical: the piece was asking for it, standing so dangerously close to your powerful d7 knight. You consumed it without hesitation: had Viktor whistling out an amused little sound, appeasing you with what you believed was a sign of regret.

And a sign of regret it was. However, not to mourn his bishop. But you were too drunk on your freshly annexed trophy to notice the complete lack of defense around your abandoned d5 queen.

Of course: knowing what you know now, you would’ve never let that happen. That game turned you into a changed woman: you’d analyze it countless times months down the line, memorizing each tiny detail. Smacking yourself with a mental whip for even allowing him such an opportunity in the first place.

But that day, he took your careless offer and slayed the royalty. At first, you thought your vision was betraying you from looking at the chequered space for too long. But oh well — he still had one rook, and carefully moved it precisely one square forward, prying your precious omnipotent piece with one subtle movement. And only when it was gone were you able to comprehend the damages. You watched him throw your queen into the pile by his elbow — a makeshift bed for all the fallen soldiers he took from you.

That’s how you lost your nail.

“Fuck,” you groaned, squeezing that poor finger between the hard press of your teeth.

Viktor simply snickered. As if he didn’t just disarm you, guaranteeing himself an easy checkmate.

“A bit too harsh of a word to describe your predicament, don’t you think?” he provoked, gently nudging you towards the already rushing you with its ticking clock. “Surely, you can get out of this.”

“No,” you disputed, feeling the thick metal taste invading the cavity of your mouth. “No, I can’t get out of this. Technically, I already lost.”

“There you are: jumping into conclusions again. I can think of a few ways we could turn this into a draw–“ but he didn’t finish. Something got in his way —just like a sharp fish bone stuck in one’s throat; he even sounded choked up and hoarse, eyes widening with a petrified little gasp.

The way your name rolled off his trembling tongue insisted that his fright was targeted towards you.

“You’re bleeding,” he uttered — a nervous constatation.

You blinked, utterly bewildered. Only then did you register the weird flavour, withdrawing that tremendous finger from the pinch of teeth. Watching the trail of crimson flow rapidly down your arm, a mere inch from snaking into the sleeve of your shirt.

“Oh,” a guilty thing, practically unintentional. “I’m aware.”

Viktor froze, now perplexed to the point of reaching over the desk and shaking some sense into you.

“I bite my nails when I’m anxious,” you quickly offered a breathless explanation, “I simply must have bitten too hard this time.”

He didn’t respond. Well, not with his words, to be precise — his hand stopped the timer, signaling the game’s inevitable delay. You almost stuffed your mouth full of still presentably looking digits, almost certain that your opponent was now grabbing his cane to walk away from you as fast as his thin body was capable of moving. Had you grabbing his wrist with a desperate plea, panicking eyes meeting his — strict and half-lidded.

“Where are you going?” you queried, childishly hoping to hear something that wouldn’t include an insult.

“To the pharmacy, of course,” Viktor said, allowing you to hold onto him. Peering down at your contorted with astonishment face: as if he was judging you for ever thinking of him that low.

Because he’s sweet. Sweet boys don’t run away from their dates. Nor from their unfortunate opponents.

“What for?” you dared to ask, releasing his wrist in order not to overstep.

“To fetch you something to disinfect that with,” he laughed, registering your gesture as a non-verbal permission for him to go.

You watched him walk away from you oh so slowly — as if he made each step that pretty of a torture on purpose, tempting you to yell something foolishly grateful while your eyes could still swirl his posture, brimming with glassy, sheer excitement.

Or perhaps the pain from your injury finally decided to kick in.

“Viktor!” you managed to find your voice — shaky, a little too resonant for the library. He didn’t comment on that though. Just turned to face you once again, nodding quizzically. “Will you show me the draw thing later?” you offered him the loveliest smile — not a smirk or a devious snicker. A smile, sincere and pretty. Had his lips arching into one of his own — so warm you wanted to slap yourself for ever considering toying with this polite, darling man. The thought didn’t linger, of course — but it swelled deliciously inside your mind, making you forget about the stinging finger for a few seconds. “Sure,” Viktor replied — no hesitation prominent in his tone, “just don’t chew on any more of your nails while I’m gone, please.”

tags: @zaunitearchives @blissfulip @thehistoriangirl @queen-of-elves @vyshnevska

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor x reader smut #a very self indulgent reader #but oh well #viktor x f!reader #viktor smut #viktor fluff #the cunterpart

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