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silverlightqueen · 6 years

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Ruin My Life - Part 2

RML masterlist

(fratboy!Jimin ft. fratboy!Jungkook) - smut, fluff, angst to come

Summary - You and Jimin have a very domestic morning after, so you make up for it with a very not domestic night...

Word Count - 8k+

Warnings - smuttier than part 1 (if you can believe it), threesome, light choking, orgasm denial, oral, dirty talk, intercourse, double penetration, overstimulation, fingering, just a lil bit of everything lol

a/n: so here’s part 2! this hasn’t been edited so excuse any mistakes. I hope y’all enjoy it and pls message me and give me feedback! if you like this, check out my other work, all linked in my masterlist💕

Edit: Part 3 is out now, link in my masterlist 💕

silverlightqueen masterlist

I blink drowsily, slowly tumbling out of my slumber, as I arch my back, stretching in the warm bed. I sit up, rubbing at my eyes to see the bright morning light streaming in through the gaps in the curtains. The other side of the bed is empty, and I remember last night, when it was full. Has he really left? I think before spotting his jeans bunched up on the floor. And then I hear a quiet humming and realise he’s definitely still here. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I stand up, stretching again, before heading out of the room, my bare feet soundless on the soft carpet of my bedroom. As I near the kitchen, his humming gets louder along with the occasional clink of kitchenware. When I reach the kitchen, I peer in to see Jimin stood in there, in just his boxers, mixing something up in one of my baking bowls. When I step into the room, he looks up, noticing me, and a big smile breaks across his face, hiding his eyes behind their lids, making my heart contract.

‘Morning, princess,’ he says, his voice much deeper and huskier than usual, and taps his cheek. ‘Morning, babe,’ I reply as I get up onto my tip toes and press a kiss to his soft skin. ‘How long have you been awake?’ I ask, standing behind him and putting my arms around him, resting my cheek against his strong back. ‘Not long. Thought I’d make a bit of breakfast,’ he says, and I can feel the vibrations of his words through his body. ‘What time is it?’ I ask. ‘It’s nearly half past eleven. You didn’t have a morning lecture, did you?’ he asks. ‘Nuh-uh,’ I reply as he begins walking towards the fridge, and I stay holding onto him, shuffling along behind him. ‘You’re so clingy in the morning. I thought maybe you’d changed but you’re still exactly the same,’ he chuckles, and I nuzzle further into him. ‘Princess, can we cuddle after I’ve made breakfast? You’re making it a little hard to cook,’ he says lightly, and I whine, holding onto him. He detaches me from his torso and I pout.

‘Go find something to watch on the TV and I’ll be done in like fifteen minutes,’ he says, and I frown jokingly, stomping off to the living room. My phone, sat on the coffee table, lights up as I sit down on the sofa and I pick it up, turning on the TV with the remote at the same time. I flick through the channels, finally settling on Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, whilst checking my phone. I’ve had a load of texts from Mija asking what happened. I type a quick message filling her in and ask when she wants to come back, so I can send Jimin home. She lets me know that she’s currently in a lecture and then going out for a late lunch with some of her classmates, so she won’t be back for a few hours yet. Jimin comes in then, two plates in his hands and a big smile on his face. ‘What did you make?’ I ask, getting comfy. ‘Pancakes,’ he replies, handing me my plate with a flourish. He’s garnished them with strawberries and golden syrup and a little bit of whipped cream, just how I like them. I smile at him, picking up the fork and breaking off a bite, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. ‘So?’ he asks the second I put it in my mouth. ‘Really good,’ I say truthfully once I’ve swallowed it down, and a proud smile breaks across his face. ‘Jin hyung taught me how to make them,’ he tells me, tucking into his own plate.

We sit in a comfortable silence, eating our breakfast and watching the film, and once we’re both done, I take our plates into the kitchen and quickly wash up, joining him back in the living room after ten minutes. He’s under a load of blankets that he must have found in the cupboard, and he looks absolutely adorable bundled up like this. He looks up at me when I walk in and a smirk breaks across his face, turning him from adorable to something else. ‘You look so good in my clothes, princess,’ he praises, making some space for me to sit. I throw myself down beside him and he instantly pulls me into his side, his arm around me. It’s only after a few minutes of being so comfortable, physically and mentally, that it hits me how weird this is. Cuddling with him like this and watching a Disney film after he made us breakfast, it feels so… domestic. And it feels like the most normal thing in the world, like I could wake up to this every morning without complaint. My heart starts beating so fast at the thought and I nearly hurtle out of his arms and kick him out of the apartment. But before I can, Jimin begins to speak.

‘You coming to the party at the frat tonight?’ he asks. ‘I didn’t know you were having one,’ I reply, and he rests his head on top of mine. ‘Well, now you do,’ he points out, his jaw moving against the top of my head. ‘I’m not invited,’ I say pointedly, waiting for him to explicitly say he wants me to come. ‘Well, that’s why I’m inviting you now. I want you there,’ he says, and I feel my heart contract. ‘I’ve got exams next week,’ I say, and he chuckles. ‘What’s that got to do with our party?’ he asks, and I roll my eyes, though he can’t see me do so. ‘I need to study,’ I say. ‘Okay, A) no, you don’t, and B) if you want to study, do it on the weekend, or during the week next week,’ he says, and I sigh. ‘Come on, princess. You can be my date,’ he says, and I nearly choke, moving to look at him. ‘Your date? Did the infamous Park Jimin really just ask me to be his date? When there’s gonna be so many ‘hot chicks’ whose pants you can try to get into?’ I say sarcastically, and he rolls his eyes amusedly. ‘Infamous? And also, for the record, I’ve never said ‘hot chicks’ in my entire life,’ he points out. ‘The point still stands.’ ‘Yeah, and my point about wanting you as my date still stands. We haven’t spent time together for so long, it’ll be nice to hang out together in a party environment,’ he says. ‘As opposed to this environment?’ I ask. ‘This is nice and all, but it feels too… relationshipy for me. A party’s a different story,’ he says, and my heart sinks. I don’t know what I expected. Of course, he wasn’t gonna suddenly change his mind and ask me to be his girlfriend. But I… I had a bit of hope, I guess. ‘Okay,’ I say, giving in to what I want rather than what’s best for me, ‘I’ll come.’ ‘Good,’ he replies, a huge smile appearing on his face.

We settle back down together, watching the film, but I can’t even enjoy myself in the moment, feeling myself falling for him again. And it hurts even more that I don’t have a chance with him at all. If I continue with this, I know I’ll fall in love with him, just like I did last time. And I don’t want to wait until I’m too far gone to come back, just like I did last time, but I know myself, and I know I can’t resist him. One of his eye smiles and a gentle hand at my waist, and I’m putty in his hands. But when I’ve missed him so much over these past two years, so much that I couldn’t go a day without thinking about him, it’s hard to resist. So, it’s a choice between distancing myself like the last two years or continuing to fall in love with him and keep it to myself so I can carry on seeing him. And, unfortunately, I already know which it is I’m going to choose. I already know he’s going to ruin my life.

‘Ready to go, y/n?’ Mija shouts from the living room. ‘Two minutes!’ I shout back, searching frantically for my black heels as I swipe my lipstick across my lips. I finally find them and pull them on, my shaky hands fumbling with the straps. I frantically shove things into my black clutch, lipstick, pads, oil-blotting sheets, phone, phone charger and the like. I run out of my room into the living room and Mija screams at my appearance. ‘You look so fucking good, bitch!’ she shrieks, and I shush her embarrassedly. I’m dressed in a lowcut, dark red velvet dress that ends mid-thigh, and Jimin’s leather jacket that he left here earlier. My hair is in big, bouncy curls, opposite to my usual dead straight locks. ‘You look so fucking good too, bitch,’ I say, a lot quieter than she did. She’s dressed in a black mesh bodysuit with a cute lace bralette beneath, and a pair of white jeans with a pair of black heels of mine ‘I don’t recognise that jacket,’ Mija says, and I nearly blush. ‘It’s Jimin’s,’ I say, and she shrieks again. ‘Yes, bitch! I’ve already got a plan for you to win him over!’ she says, and I roll my eyes. I told her about my head being in a whirl and my mixed feelings earlier, and she’s made up her mind that she’s gonna get us together, one way or another. ‘You show up, wearing his jacket, and flirt with another boy!’ she says. ‘Are you crazy?’ I ask, and she shakes her head. ‘Mija, Jimin used to get angry when I flirted with other boys in front of him. And he’s asked me to be his date to this party. He’ll be furious if he sees,’ I say, and she shrugs. ‘Even better. It’ll help him realise that he can’t let you pass him by because he won’t find anyone like you,’ she says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Stop with the soppy shit, and let’s go,’ I say, and she laughs.

We head out of the apartment and down to the front of our accommodation building to where an Uber is waiting. A mere ten minute drive and we’re there, and all I can think about is Jimin doing this drive but the opposite way last night. He must have literally dropped what he was doing and then sped over straight away, and the thought makes me feel warm inside. When we get out, we see that the street is packed full of cars and the party is well in full swing, music pounding out into the street. We head up the lawn, passing groups of drunk gigglers, high stoners and making-out couples. Mija shoulders her way past a couple kissing in the doorway and leads me through into the front room. We push our way back into the kitchen, Mija making a beeline to where she knows the boys will be. The second we walk in, all eyes turn to us, and I understand why this room is a lot emptier than the others. This room is exclusive, for close friends of the boys only, and I can see why people stick to that unspoken rule, having all eyes falling upon them instantly when they walk in. We don’t get the stony reception that others must do though.

‘y/n!’ Taehyung practically shouts the second his eyes land on me, cutting off the speech of the girl who was talking to him and pushing his way over to me. He pulls me into a hug and I can’t help but smile at his sweet drunken behaviour, able to smell the alcohol on him. ‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ he says, his hands on my arms. His hair is a new colour now, no longer the ashy grey of yesterday, now a vivid blond. It suits him. ‘Thank, Tae,’ I reply, unable to keep a smile off my face. ‘Do you want a drink?’ he asks. ‘None of what you’ve been drinking. I’ll have a vodka coke, not too strong, please,’ I ask, and he turns to a freshman in the frat. ‘Get her a strong vodka coke!’ he instructs, and the poor freshman instantly begins fixing my drink. I feel sorry for the poor kid, but I can’t help but laugh at him, trying to hide my giggles behind my hand. ‘I said not strong,’ I sigh, and he shrugs. ‘You look good. Red suits you. And I like the jacket,’ Tae compliments, the girl he was speaking to before barging past with a scowl. ‘Thanks, Tae, thought I’d dress up for once,’ I reply, feeling eyes on me, though I can’t be sure whose. I don’t even know if Jimin’s in here or not, having not had a chance to look around. ‘For me? Or in general?’ he asks in his deep voice, an eyebrow raised. ‘Maybe a bit of both,’ I lie, knowing it’s not him I dressed up for, and he grins a boxy smile down at me. ‘You’re cute, y/n. Rejecting me yesterday, flirting with me today,’ he points out, and I laugh. ‘I wasn’t exactly in the mood yesterday.’ ‘But you were in the mood for Kook, Joon hyung and Yoongi hyung,’ he says, and I laugh. ‘They managed to persuade me. You told me I was clever and pretty and stuff,’ I point out, and he chuckles deeply. ‘Fair enough. I was nervous though. You’re a little scary, you know,’ he says, before turning to the freshman boy. ‘Hurry up! She hasn’t got all day!’ he barks. ‘Tae! Don’t! It’s okay, babe, take all the time you need,’ I say as nicely as I can, and the boys smiles weakly, going back to putting ice in my drink. ‘So you can call him babe, but when I said it yesterday…?’ Tae says. ‘You know that I meant it in a different way than you did,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘Here you are, noona,’ the freshman boy says nervously, pressing the drink into my hand. ‘Thank you,’ I reply, taking a sip through the straw of the drink, Tae’s eyes on my lips. ‘Tae! Keg stand!’ I hear someone shout from through the open back door, and Tae sighs. ‘I’d better go. I’ll speak to you later, y/n, save a dance for me,’ he says, heading outside.

Before I can even turn to look around the room, Namjoon is stood in front of me. ‘Hey, y/n,’ he says, pulling me into a hug. ‘Hey, Joon,’ I reply, giving him a hug. ‘I didn’t know you were coming,’ he says. ‘Oh, Jimin invited me,’ I say before thinking, not realising my mistake until Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow together. ‘When? I thought you two didn’t really talk anymore,’ he asks. ‘Yesterday, when he came over to speak to me,’ I say, and Namjoon nods. ‘To be fair, he was really vague about what your guys conversation was about so we all figured he was embarrassed about being rejected, but I guess he was trying to cover up how he was trying to reconnect with you,’ Namjoon says. He doesn’t know the full story about mine and Jimin’s history; he just thinks we used to talk, and then we didn’t anymore. ‘Hmm, I guess,’ I say, taking a sip of my vodka, thanking my lucky stars that Joon believed my story. ‘y/n, dance with me!’ Mija says, appearing at my side, an already half empty solo cup in hand. ‘Come on then,’ I give in, letting her drag me into the living room. ‘I’ll talk to you later, Joon!’ I call over my shoulder, Joon giving me an amused wave goodbye.

Mija and I are sucked into the throng of people dancing, and we get caught up in it too. A couple hours, and several vodka cokes later, and I feel a pair of hands land on my waist. I turn around instantly, ready to slap whoever it is, before I see Jungkook’s face. I roll my eyes, and he grins at me, looking unbelievably good in a white t-shirt and blue ripped jeans, a black bomber jacket over the top. His hair is slightly wavy today, not dead straight like normally. ‘Dance with me?’ he asks. ‘I’m dancing with Mija,’ I say, turning to look at where she was stood just a few seconds ago, but has now disappeared. ‘Sure you are,’ he says, turning me around to face him, his arms around my waist. ‘I like this dress,’ he says, looking down at me, and I already know that he’s got a perfect view down the top of it. ‘I bet you do,’ I say pointedly, moving his chin so his eyes meet mine rather than being lost in my bosom. He chuckles, eyes on mine, as we move fluidly together, his hands straying further and further down my back. When they go just a little too far, I grab them and move them up, and he chuckles again, his breath stirring my hair. ‘Come on,’ he says, holding my hand in his and leading me through into the nearly empty kitchen. ‘I thought you wanted to dance,’ I say as he leads us into the corner. ‘I changed my mind, I wanted to talk to you instead,’ he says. ‘What about?’ I ask with a raised eyebrow. ‘Can’t I just talk to you, noona?’ he asks innocently, leaning back against the counter, his head tilted to one side. ‘Fine, I guess,’ I say, beginning to pour myself a drink. ‘You look really nice, noona,’ he says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Thank you, Kookie. I guess you look nice too,’ I say, taking a sip of my seventh vodka coke, and he laughs. ‘You’re too coy. I feel like I recognise that jacket,’ he says, squinting at it, and I shrug, trying not to laugh. He moves closer to me, backing me up against the counter with one hand on my waist. ‘It looks nice on you. But it’d look nicer on my bedroom floor,’ he says under his breath. ‘Don’t use cheesy pick-up lines on me,’ I reply lowly, trying not to let on my reaction to it. ‘It worked though,’ he replies, his deep voice doing unspeakable things to me. ‘Did it?’ I ask, and he grins. ‘I’m pretty sure it did, noona, considering how hard your heart is beating,’ he says, his chest pressed against mine. ‘Yours is too,’ I reply, and he grins. ‘I won’t deny it like you are,’ he says. ‘I didn’t deny it,’ I retort. ‘So you’re admitting it?’ he asks, grin even wider. ‘I didn’t say that either, don’t get your hopes up,’ I reply. ‘You’re so difficult, noona,’ he says. ‘I’m difficult? You’re hard to be around,’ I joke. ‘That’s not the only thing that’s hard,’ he smirks, and I groan. ‘God, you were just waiting for an excuse to say that, weren’t you?’ I ask, and he nods honestly. ‘You’re just too good to resist, noona,’ he says, and then the door opens.

Jimin walks in, both of us looking over at him as he looks up at us, my heart stopping. ‘Hey, hyung,’ Jungkook says, and Jimin smiles at him. ‘Hey, Kook. Hi, y/n,’ he says, smiling at me widely, and I’m disheartened. He doesn’t care in the slightest that he’s just walked in to see Kook stood virtually on top of me, hands on my waist. I guess he really doesn’t care about me at all. ‘Hey, Jimin,’ I reply, neither Jungkook or I moving as Jimin begins to pour himself a drink, back to us. Jungkook looks back down at me, smiling, and begins to speak again. ‘How can I help myself when you’re dressed like that? Wearing that dress, and that jacket. You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?’ he asks, voice low but not low enough for Jimin not to notice. But again, no reaction. He doesn’t tense up at all, just continues pouring out a drink. ‘Maybe I do, Kook. Maybe I wore this on purpose, to get some kind of reaction,’ I say, wanting Jimin to hear my words. But nothing. ‘From me?’ Jungkook asks, grinning. ‘Who else?’ I ask, and he licks his lips. ‘Just what I wanted to hear, noona. I knew you had a soft spot for me,’ he says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Am I that transparent?’ I say sarcastically. ‘I wish this dress was transparent,’ he says shamelessly, hands travelling up and down my sides. ‘Jungkook!’ I exclaim. ‘It’s doesn’t matter, noona. Jimin doesn’t mind, do you, hyung?’ Jungkook asks, oblivious, and Jimin turns around with an amiable smile. ‘No, of course not, Kook. You and y/n carry on,’ he says, giving a Kook an encouraging smirk, and my mouth nearly falls open. Is he kidding me? He turns and leaves with one last smirk at Kook, and I want to scream at him.

‘God, y/n, so fucking sexy, this dress is killing me,’ Jungkook groans, taking a step back to look me up and down. His words do entice me, I won’t deny it, but I can’t focus on him anymore, my mind with Jimin and his nonchalance. He really didn’t care in the slightest. After a couple more minutes of going back and forth with Kook, his phone buzzes and it’s a text from Tae telling him there’s someone in his room. Jungkook groans, telling me he’ll be back in a minute, and runs out of the room, leaving me alone with my vodka coke. And then I get a text from Namjoon, asking me to come to his room because he’s got an emergency. I rush up, knowing where it is from before when we were friends, worried something serious has happened, and I practically burst into the room. It’s dark and I can’t see a single thing. ‘Joon?’ I call out, and then the door shuts behind me, the light flicking on. Jimin is stood by the door, staring at me, and I take a few steps back out of surprise, my back hitting the wall. He looks amazing again today, dressed in an oversized white jumper and a pair of black ripped jeans, his thighs on show again.

‘Jimin? But Namjoon texted me…?’ I say, confused. ‘I took his phone. And we switched rooms last year,’ Jimin says neutrally, and my eyebrows furrow. ‘Why?’ I ask. ‘I wanted his room and he let me switch,’ Jimin says with a small grin. ‘You know that’s not what I’m asking,’ I reply. ‘Oh, you wanna know why I told you to come up here?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘I’ll tell you why,’ he says, his voice losing its light-heartedness as he takes a few steps, pressing his body against mine, one of his hands coming to my throat. ‘What the fuck do you think you were doing? Flirting with Taehyung when you first walked in, and then dancing with Kook. Then the two of you disappear and when I finally manage to shake off the bitches that were clinging to me, I walk in to see that. You’re here as my date, you’re wearing my jacket, and yet you haven’t spoken to me once, spending all your time with Jungkook. You think you can get away with that?’ he says, his voice low, his fingers tight on my throat, his words going straight to my heat. ‘I didn’t… I’m sorry, daddy,’ I say, and he scoffs. ‘It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think? Jungkook’s already had his hands all over you. You don’t deserve to be touched, princess,’ he says, his fingers tightening even more, my brain becoming numb. ‘Please, daddy,’ I beg, his words making me moan, and he shakes his head. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and taps away for a few seconds, not losing his grip on my neck. Once he’s done, he tucks his phone back into his back pocket.

‘Such a dirty slut, y/n. You’re supposed to be mine, and mine only. Understand me, princess?’ he asks, and I nod, feeling lightheaded at my lack of oxygen. ‘I don’t think you do. I think you need to get it out of your system, because then you’ll just get worse. Right? I’m right, aren’t I?’ he asks, and I nod, knowing not to disagree with him. He puts a hand up my dress, pulling my pants aside and swiping a finger along my slit. ‘God, you’re so fucking wet, princess. Is this for me, or for Jungkook?’ he asks, and I can’t lie, it may be both, but I won’t admit it to him. ‘You, daddy, only you,’ I say, and he lets out a harsh laugh. ‘I think you’re a liar, princess. I think it’s for both of us,’ he says, seeing right through me, and I don’t say a thing. ‘Just as I thought,’ he says, just before the door opens and Jungkook walks in to see me pushed up against the wall, one hand up my dress and the other still around my neck. ‘Am I interrupting something?’ Jungkook asks, hesitating at the door, and Jimin pushes one finger in between my folds without warning. I moan out, my head falling back against the wall, and Jimin grins at Jungkook. ‘Look at this, Kook,’ he says, pulling out his finger and holding it up for Jungkook to see it, dripping with my slick. Jungkook’s eyes widen and he shuts the door behind him, clearly already knowing what’s coming. ‘Wow, noona,’ Jungkook says, and Jimin grins. ‘This is for you and me, Jungkook,’ Jimin says, and then brings his hand up to my mouth. I open my mouth and he pops his finger in, waiting until my tongue has licked it clean before he pulls it out, holding it up to Kook, covered in my saliva now. ‘So dirty, noona,’ Jungkook whispers, and Jimin laughs. ‘You don’t know the half of it. Does he, princess?’ Jimin asks. ‘No, daddy,’ I reply dutifully, my voice hoarse due to his hand around my neck. ‘Daddy, huh? I never would’ve guessed,’ Jungkook chuckles.

Jimin moves his hand and I take a deep breath, my head clearing, and Jimin laughs. ‘You expect me to feel sorry for you, princess, after how naughty you’ve been? I’m taking this back,’ Jimin says, pulling his jacket off me and throwing it across the room. ‘I knew I’d seen it before,’ Jungkook chuckles. ‘Dress off now,’ Jimin instructs, and I hesitate, self-conscious to undress in front of the two fully clothed men. ‘Oh, so you wanted to be a slut earlier, but now you’re shy? Hurry up, princess, you’re lucky I’ve decided not to punish you,’ Jimin threatens and I turn around, holding my hair out of the way for someone to undo the zip. ‘Go ahead, Kook,’ Jimin instructs, and I feel his hand appear at my back, pulling down the zip that goes all the way down to my lower back. Once he’s done, I pull it off, leaving me in black lace underwear, different to the ones from yesterday. ‘Look at you, wearing pretty lingerie. You were planning on getting fucked tonight, weren’t you? Who by, princess?’ Jimin asks. ‘You, daddy,’ I reply, and he shakes his head. ‘Dirty girl. So you planned on getting fucked by me, but flirted with Kook. So naughty,’ Jimin says, taking a seat on the bed. ‘On your knees, princess,’ Jimin says, leaning back on his elbows, and I quickly drop to my knees. ‘Go ahead, Kook,’ Jimin prompts. ‘You sure, hyung?’ Jungkook asks, and Jimin nods. Jungkook steps in front of me, beginning to unzip his jeans, and I open my mouth in advance. ‘Look at her, mouth open already. Such a dirty slut,’ Jimin says, and Jungkook looks down at me, all trace of the mischievous light-hearted boy gone, an intimidating man stood before me. ‘Is he fucking my face, daddy?’ I ask Jimin, and he laughs. ‘Ask Jungkook,’ he instructs, and I look up at him. ‘Do you want to fuck my face, Kook, or do you want me to suck you off?’ I ask, and he groans. ‘Fuck, noona, so dirty. Suck me off first,’ he says, pulling his jeans and boxers down just enough for his hardening length to spring free.

He's incredibly long, slightly longer than Jimin, not as thick, but still making my mouth water. I spit on my hands and work them up and down his length, getting it completely hard before I take his head into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around his tip, feeling his hand knot into my hair for grip, his head falling back with a low groan as I lick up the precum. ‘That’s it, princess, make daddy proud,’ Jimin encourages me from the bed as I take him out of my mouth, placing my tongue at his base and licking the entire way up along his vein before moving back to the base, swirling my tongue around his balls one at a time, my hand gently rubbing up and down his length. ‘Fuck, that’s it, baby,’ Jungkook groans, watching me as I bring his head into my mouth, sinking as far down onto his length as I can, looking up at him through my lashes. He groans again as I begin bobbing up and down, building up a steady pace as I work more and more of him into my mouth. When he hits the back of my throat, he bucks his hips and I gag, eyes watering and saliva beginning to drip down my chin. ‘Now, now, princess, no gagging,’ Jimin reprimands sternly, and I know he’ll punish me if I do it again. Jungkook gets impatient then and knots his hand into my hair firmly, beginning to thrust into my mouth, and it takes all of my self-control not to gag. I grip onto the backs of his thighs, my nails scraping against the denim and his balls hit my chin, my nose bumping against his crotch repeatedly.

‘Fuck, you look so pretty choking on my cock, noona,’ Jungkook says, his words making me moan and I can feel the slick starting to pool in my pants. ‘Quiet, princess, you’re pleasing Kook, not the other way ‘round. Understand?’ Jimin instructs harshly, and I try to nod as best as I can, tears dripping down my cheeks as I hollow out my cheeks, trying not to gag. ‘Fuck, noona, your mouth feels amazing, baby,’ Jungkook groans again, and I try so hard not to react, dutifully staying still as he thrusts into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat over and over again. ‘Fuck, y/n, I’m gonna cum,’ he groans, his thrusts faster and harder, the tears streaming down my face now, my breathing laboured, and I feel him twitch in my mouth, knowing he’s close. ‘In your mouth, noona?’ he breathes out, and I nod as best as I can, feeling his hot cum hit the back of my throat as he moans out, head thrown back and body tensed. His thrusts slow down so I start bobbing my head, milking him for all he’s worth until he pulls out. ‘Open your mouth, princess,’ Jimin says, and I do so, Jungkook’s cum mingled with my saliva dripping down my chin when I do so, eyes streaming and hair a wild mess of curls. ‘Swallow it, princess. Every last drop,’ Jimin says, and I do so, opening my mouth once I’m done. ‘Wow, hyung, you’ve got her well trained,’ Jungkook says, looking down at me incredulously. ‘I’m not a dog,’ I say indignantly, not knowing when to keep my mouth shut, and I see Jungkook try to hold back a laugh. Jimin, chuckling, gets up off the bed and walks over, and I already regret opening my mouth, waiting for a punishment. ‘That’s one thing I’ve learned, Kook. Don’t seriously degrade or dehumanize her, or she’ll get her own back,’ Jimin says, talking as though I’m not there, and I know we’re both thinking of the time when he went a touch too far, calling me a name that had me furious, and I left his house mid hook-up, leaving him naked on the bed with a painfully hard boner. A small smile slips onto my face at the thought, and Jimin taps my chin with two fingers, making me look up at him. ‘Up, princess,’ he says, and I get up off my knees. He holds a small towel in his hand and cleans off my face, neck and chest with it, knowing I hate being sticky. ‘How’d you want her, Kook?’ Jimin asks Jungkook. ‘I… hyung, don’t you want to…?’ Jungkook trails off, and Jimin chuckles. ‘I have all the time in the world to do what I want with her, Kook. You have this evening,’ Jimin says, the subliminal message obvious. ‘I… I wanna taste her,’ Jungkook says, and I almost grin at the thought. ‘You heard him. Lie on the bed. Sideways, princess,’ Jimin says, and I go over to his bed, lying down horizontally.

After Jimin whispers something to Jungkook under his breath, the two men make their way over to the bed after me. Jungkook stands between my legs, his vascular hands slowly travelling up my legs to my pants, before pulling them down my legs, just as Jimin appears above me. ‘Can I rip this one off?’ he asks, hand on my bra. ‘No, daddy, it’s expensive,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes, hands going under my back to open the clasp before pulling it off, leaving me completely naked before the two men. ‘God, noona, so fucking sexy,’ Jungkook groans, hands spreading my legs apart, the cold air hitting my heat. ‘y/n, you’re so wet. Oh, my god, you’re soaked,’ he says, kneeling down. He licks up along my slit, and I let out a shaky breath. ‘No noise, princess,’ Jimin tells me, and I sigh inwardly, knowing it’ll be hard to stay quiet. Jungkook takes slow, languorous licks along my slit, his nose nuzzling against my clit, and I bite my lip, trying to stop any noise from coming out. His tongue dips in between my folds, and I nearly cry out at the feeling, my hands threading into his soft, silky curls. ‘No hands, princess,’ Jimin says, and I reluctantly move my hands from Jungkook’s hair, Jimin holding them above my head instead. Jungkook wraps his lips around my clit, sucking harshly, and my back arches. ‘Stay still, y/n! So naughty, princess,’ Jimin says sternly, and I try to force myself to still on the bed. Without warning, Jungkook plunges a finger in between my folds, and I bite down so hard on my lip, my body shaking slightly. ‘Fuck, you’re so responsive, y/n,’ Jungkook whispers. ‘She is, isn’t she? Only the tip of your finger goes into her tight little pussy, and she’s already clenching around it, trying to pull it further in,’ Jimin says, his words going straight to my core, and I have to bite down on my lip even harder. Jungkook slowly pumps his finger in and out, his lips still around my clit, before he adds another digit. ‘So fucking tight,’ Jungkook groans against my clit, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure through me. He adds yet another finger, working them in as far as he can, knuckle deep inside me whilst his mouth still works at my clit. I begin commending myself on my excellent self-control, having managed to keep quiet for this long. And then Jimin changes the goal posts.

‘Open your mouth, princess,’ he says, and I do so, my head tilted back slightly, nervous due to only having done this with him once. He plunges straight into my mouth and I nearly choke, gagging around his cock. ‘Stop gagging, princess, take it like a good girl,’ he says, and I compose myself, hollowing out my cheeks to accommodate him. He slowly thrusts in and out of my mouth, gradually building up his pace as Jungkook continues his attack between my legs, his mouth and fingers working at an incredible speed. I can feel myself getting closer as Jimin’s pace quickens, still holding my hands above my head. And then, in perfect synchrony, the two increase their paces, Jungkook’s fingers and mouth moving impossibly fast as Jimin’s hips snap forward and backward violently. The tears stream from my eyes, spit bubbling around my mouth, the only noises in the room being my choked breaths, lewd wet sounds from Jungkook’s mouth and fingers, and Jimin’s heavy breathing. I can feel my head spinning, drifting away from the current events, and my eyes begin to slide shut. ‘Deep breath, princess,’ Jimin says, pulling out of my mouth, and I automatically do so, the air finally entering my lungs like I’ve just come out of deep waters. Jungkook doesn’t stop his attack on my core, his fingers brushing against my g-spot, and I let out a loud moan, just as Jimin slides back into my mouth, groaning aloud. I feel myself hurtling towards my orgasm, letting out choked moans around Jimin’s cock. ‘Such a good girl, princess, choking on my cock like that. You look so pretty, baby girl, so pretty and wrecked. Do you like having daddy’s cock in your mouth while Jungkook fucks you with his fingers and mouth, huh?’ he asks, and I nod with a muffled moan. I don’t even realise how close Jimin is until his cock twitches in my mouth and his releases hits the back of my throat. My name falls from his lips repeatedly as he thrusts sloppily into my mouth until he’s emptied all of his cum into my mouth. Jungkook stays at a steadily rapid pace, and I’m so close to my climax as I swallow down Jimin’s cum. ‘Daddy, I’m gonna…’ I trail off, letting out a moan at the feeling of Jungkook licking at my clit like he hasn’t eaten for days. My orgasm is just within reach, so close I can feel it, and then Jimin speaks; ‘Stop, Jungkook.’

Jungkook instantly stops his movements, and I look down at him in confusion as he licks his fingers clean, smirking at me. ‘You think you’ve been good enough to cum, princess?’ Jimin chuckles, and I nearly scream, knowing the torture that I’ve got coming. ‘Daddy, please,’ I whine, feeling my orgasm ebbing away, the knot in my stomach loosening completely. ‘You can earn it,’ Jimin says harshly. ‘How do you want her now, Kook?’ Jimin asks the younger boy as tears stream down my face. ‘I want her to ride me,’ Jungkook says with a grin at me, and I nearly stick out my tongue at him out of anger. Nearly. ‘Undress him, princess,’ Jimin instructs and I climb up off the bed shakily. His jacket is already lying on the floor so I pull his t-shirt up over his head, hands skimming over hard abs before I go to his jeans, unzipping them and pushing them down his legs. He steps out of them along with his shoes and socks, before I push down his boxers, leaving his length, already hard again, free to spring up against his stomach. He sits at the edge of the bed, feet planted firmly on the floor, and I look over at Jimin. ‘Condom, daddy?’ I ask, and he throws one to me skilfully, already prepared. ‘Go on, princess,’ Jimin says, motioning towards Jungkook, and I stand in front of the boy. Slowly, I roll the condom onto his length, hearing him hiss at the feeling.

‘Go ahead, noona,’ Jungkook urges, and I slowly sink down onto his length, feeling him go deeper than I thought possible. ‘Fuck, Jungkook,’ I moan out as his head drops back, mouth open in a silent groan. I start to grind down on him slowly, both of us letting out moans in synchrony. ‘Fuck, noona, you’re so fucking tight,’ Jungkook moans as I increase my pace, his hands on my waist helping. ‘Look at you, bouncing on my cock like a good girl,’ he groans, and I let out a moan at his words, my back arching, his face in between my breasts. He attaches his mouth to one hard nipple, tongue swirling around the tip, and I can’t stop the moans that fall from my mouth in quick succession. He gets impatient at my pace after a while and begins thrusting up into me instead, and my head falls back out of pleasure. His balls slap against my ass as he grinds up against me, his head repeatedly hitting the spot inside me that has me nearly screaming. And then Jimin’s hands appear on my back, just as Jungkook’s mouth moves to the other nipple. ‘Can we try something, princess?’ Jimin asks, his mouth against my ear, before I feel a finger in the place between the dimples at the bottom of my back. ‘Daddy,’ I say warningly, knowing that he knows how against anal I am. We tried it once, and let’s just say, it wasn’t pretty. ‘No, princess, not that,’ he chuckles, ‘do you think you can take me and Jungkook?’ ‘Where, daddy?’ I ask, confused, and he lets out a soft laugh again. Jungkook thrusts into me particularly hard and I let out a loud moan, head falling back against Jimin’s now bare chest. ‘In your tight little pussy,’ he says, and I feel myself getting wetter at the thought, Jungkook instantly sliding in and out much easier. ‘I think she likes the sound of that, hyung,’ Jungkook grins, hair pasted to his forehead with perspiration.

‘Turn her around, Kook,’ Jimin says, and Jungkook lifts me up, turning me around so my back presses against his front. He slides back into me easily, and I shudder as I look up at Jimin, who hands me a condom. I rip it open and slide it onto him, pumping his length a few times before he begins. He drags his head along my clit before bringing it lower, nudging against Jungkook’s length. ‘Do you think you can take it, princess?’ he asks, less of a question than a challenge, and I nod nervously. He presses his head against Jungkook’s shaft, slowly inching up into the tiny gap. The pain is almost unbearable, the sensation of being so completely full foreign, and I lean back against Jungkook’s shoulder, a cry leaving my throat. ‘Remember the safe word?’ Jimin asks me and I nod. ‘What is it?’ Jungkook asks. ‘Red,’ I reply breathlessly, Jimin nodding at my confirmation. As he slides further and further in, the pain ebbs away into pleasure and it isn’t long before I’m eager. ‘Please, daddy, move,’ I moan, and he chuckles, thrusting into me gently. All three of us moan, Jungkook’s mouth coming to my shoulder and biting gently, my head falling back against him, Jimin watching me intently. Slowly but surely, Jimin increases his pace, his cock scraping against my walls and Jungkook’s own length. The sound of wet squelches, moans, grunts, groans and skin slapping against skin fill the room, Jungkook’s hands digging into my waist as Jimin grips onto my shoulders. ‘Daddy, harder, please,’ I moan, Jimin obliging, the three of us letting out moans at the faster pace. Jimin’s fingers come to my clit just as Jungkook begins to knead my breasts, and my orgasm washes over me without an inch of warning. I moan out, my head against Jungkook’s chest, Jungkook now rocking up to alternate with Jimin’s thrusts.

‘Princess, you’re gonna regret cumming,’ Jimin warns with a grin, increasing his pace so much that he’s fucking me into oblivion, Jungkook speeding up to match him. The two of them scrape against my walls as I come down from my high. ‘Daddy, I can’t,’ I whine, the overstimulation kicking in, and he only grins in response. ‘You’re a big girl, princess, you can handle it,’ he says, the two men going impossibly fast. Jimin thrusts particularly hard, having tears running down my face, and I let out load moans of both of their names. ‘Rub yourself, princess,’ Jimin groans, cheeks flushed and face screwed up in pleasure. ‘I can’t, daddy,’ I whine, my head whirling. ‘I’m not gonna tell you again. Rub your fucking clit like the dirty girl you are,’ he spits out, and I do as he says, my limp hand beginning to rub at my clit. ‘Fuck, daddy! Ah, Jungkook! Oh, god, feels so good,’ I moan out, the two of their thrusts beginning sloppier. ‘Such a good girl, noona, so good. I’m not gonna last long, hyung,’ Jungkook groans. ‘Fuck, me neither,’ Jimin says, slapping my hand away and replacing it with his own, his insanely rapid pace having my legs shaking and body convulsing between the two men. I already feel my orgasm approaching, my moans getting louder and quicker. ‘Fuck, Jungkook! Daddy, I’m gonna cum,’ I moan. ‘Not yet, princess, wait for me and Jungkook,’ Jimin says, his hand moving so fast that I can barely think straight. And then together, the two of them thrust into me hard, going deeper than possible, and I feel my orgasm washing over me with a scream of their names. Jungkook follows straight after, Jimin only a few seconds after him, and they wait until we’ve all come down from our highs until they stop thrusting, dicks already softening inside me. Jimin pulls out first, pulling off his condom and throwing it in the bin. I climb off Jungkook then, and my slick mixed with a milky white substance drips down the inside of my leg.

‘Fuck, noona, is that your cum? God, I’ve never seen a girl’s cum so… white,’ Jungkook says as he gets up, throwing away his condom too. I freeze, looking down at my leg, my entire body going cold. ‘That’s not mine,’ I whisper. ‘What? Speak up, princess,’ Jimin says. ‘That’s not my cum. That’s one of yours,’ I breathe out, having to sit down from my light-headedness. ‘Wait, seriously?’ Jungkook asks, grin disappearing from his face, and I nod, feeling faint. ‘You’re on the pill, though, right?’ Jungkook asks. ‘It doesn’t always work. And I haven’t been great with my timings recently, because of exams,’ I whisper, and the two of them look like they’ve seen a ghost. ‘Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. We don’t even know whose it was,’ Jimin groans, pacing the floor. ‘I think I’m gonna pass out,’ I whisper. ‘Jungkook, put some clothes on and go get her some food from downstairs,’ Jimin instructs and Jungkook nods, instantly following orders from his hyung. ‘Here, y/n,’ Jimin says, pressing a glass of water into my hand, and I sip some down, the liquid easing the tightness of my throat. ‘Lie down,’ he says, and I do so, Jimin using a damp towel to clean in between my legs. ‘I need to shower. And take a morning after pill, just in case,’ I whisper, and Jimin shakes his head. ‘You can do that in the morning. Right now, you need to go pee, have something to eat and then go to sleep,’ Jimin says, helping me to the bathroom. I quickly do a wee and when I come back into the bedroom, Jimin is redressed and holding out a pair of pants and a black hoodie to me. ‘Whose are these?’ I ask, eyeing the pants suspiciously, and he sighs with a small smile. ‘Yours, from two years ago. You left them here, so I washed them,’ he says, and I pull them on, followed by the hoodie. Jungkook walks back in then, pale, with a plate of mac and cheese. Jimin feeds me the food, the two of them talking quietly, but I’m too tired to pay attention to their conversation. Once I’m finished, Jimin tucks me into bed and turns off the lights, leaving with a kiss on the forehead. Once I fall asleep, a pretty boy plagues my dreams.

#bts #bts smut #jimin #park jimin #bts jimin #jimin smut #park jimin smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts au #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction

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a-little-international · 6 years

Text

The Height of Summer (4)

Summary: She’s a whirling dervish, and he’s trying his best to keep up.

Warnings: a smidge of angst???? mild swearing

Words: 4,103

A/N: that moment when you want shawn to fuck you sideways, but the universe mishears you and sends the semester to do it instead

The Series: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

Chapter 4 – Shawn

In the morning she was gone, and he was alone again. The hoodie and sweatpants he’d lent her the night before were folded neatly over the back of the couch, the apartment as empty as the void she’d left in his chest. He hadn’t heard her leave, and she hadn’t left a note.

Part of him wasn’t surprised – she didn’t owe him anything, she hadn’t really wanted to stay, it was a Sunday morning and he thought she probably had plans, plans that didn’t involve him – but he couldn’t ignore the disappointed pang that had lodged itself below his ribs when he’d emerged from his room and she wasn’t fingering through his vinyl collection, or swaying around the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee, or staring out at the view like she had been the night before.

Shawn padded into the kitchen, running a hand through his hair, his fingers catching in the tangled mess of his curls. The two empty mugs in the sink stared at him, asking him to revaluate himself and his feelings towards the girl he’d only known for a week, but who seemed to be slipping into his heart like early morning sunshine through a gap in the curtains.

Shawn turned the kettle on and opened his fridge, trying not to listen to the deafening silence rocketing around the apartment. Usually, he didn’t mind the quiet, rather liked it, even. More often than not, he didn’t even play any music when he was home alone, his brain appreciating the break from the constant noise of being surrounded by a hundred people all day long. But in her leaving, she seemed to have taken his sense of peace along with her, and he hated it. He pulled out a plate of leftover lasagne his mom had brought over during the week and dug straight in without bothering to heat it up, as he contemplated texting her. He had their conversation pulled up, reading through yesterday’s text messages, the playful backwards and forwards as he tried to convince her to join him at Soho House making a hint of a smile pull at the corners of his mouth. He looked at her little contact picture above their messages; it was a selfie Summer took when she first gave him her number at Brian’s party, her grin wide and toothy and full of life.

Before he could even formulate enough of a thought to type out to her, Geoff’s face appeared on his screen with an incoming call. “Hey dude” Shawn greeted, leaning his elbow against the kitchen countertop as he picked at his lasagne.

“And?” came Geoff’s eager response, and Shawn just frowned down at his food.

“And what?” he asked back, reaching up to pull a clean mug from the cupboard, deciding it was probably a good time for coffee.

“Come on, dude, wake up! Did you get some?”

Shawn’s frown deepened as he took a long, much needed gulp of coffee before answering. “Since when,” he started slowly, leaning back against the counter, “do I share details of my sex life with you?”

“Since you brought the best chick along in ages, bro,” Geoff replied matter-of-factly as if that was meant to clarify things to Shawn.

“Well there’s nothing to share anyway so you can call off the dogs,” Shawn grumbled as he walked back into the living room, glancing wistfully at the clothes she’d left behind on the couch.

“You’re seriously telling me you didn’t sleep with her?” the disbelief in Geoff’s voice was so heavy it was almost tangible.

Shawn let himself fall onto the couch, his eyes still trained on the pink hoodie she had looked oh-so small in, that now looked painfully formal in the way it was creaselessly folded. “Nah,” he let his voice trail off, reaching up to poke at the hoodie’s soft fabric.

“How badly did you fuck up,” came Geoff’s response, less of a question, more of a statement.

“I don’t know – I don’t know what happened,” Shawn sighed heavily, turning his head to look out at the city; thick, greying clouds pressing down against the buildings.

He had no idea what was going on with her. Last night had been nice, they’d talked on the couch until the early hours of the morning, laughing as they shoved at each other with their feet, their legs ultimately getting tangled, and it was comfortable. Her wet hair had slowly dried into a wild halo of curls, flowing over the pale pink hoodie which brought out the blush in her cheeks.

“Well, what happened?” Geoff pushed for more, and Shawn rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling.

It was a gentle lull in conversation that had ultimately been her kryptonite, her eyelids fluttering closed as she fell into sleep with such a seamless grace that Shawn didn’t have the heart to wake her from it. He sat admiring her sleeping form for a long while, too scared to move, too scared to wake her, too scared to shatter the peace. She had looked so small and soft curled up in the corner of the couch, her chest slowly rising and falling as she breathed, a few curls fluttering with every exhaled breath. Eventually, he got worried about the way her head was bent, not wanting her to wake up with a crick in her neck and a frown on her face. He had carefully untangled his legs from hers and moved to pick her up, his arms slowly sliding underneath her as he held his breath with caution. If she had looked small on the couch, she had certainly felt smaller in his arms; her tiny frame pressed against his chest, her head resting against his shoulder, her hot breath gentle against his neck. Shawn had carried her to his guest bedroom and put her down with what seemed like more cautious care than bomb disposal experts grant their explosives.

“I don’t know,” Shawn huffed back, straining his neck, “we were just hanging out, it was nice…she fell asleep around three and now she’s gone. Woke up and she’d already left, no note or anything. So, I don’t know.”

“That sucks, dude,” Geoff replied sympathetically, “maybe you should message her or something, make sure she’s okay.”

Shawn let out a long breath, picking up his mug he’d placed on the coffee table next to the couch, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Maybe she spooked because I put her in the guest bed when she fell asleep,” he wondered, taking another long sip of coffee.

There was a long pause on Geoff’s end, and then, hesitantly, “I mean, it could also have something to do with the pictures of the two of you leaving last night blowing up the internet.”

Shawn’s heart skipped a beat, and not in the same way it had when he first saw her standing in the lobby talking to the concierge wearing that fucking maroon number that clung to her like a second skin, “What?! he replied sharply, sitting up properly.

“Bro, it’s all over twitter, how is your phone not blowing up?”

Shawn rubbed his hand over his face, feeling his light morning stubble scratching against the small callouses on his fingers. “I turned my notifications off the second we went on break.”

He heard Geoff let out a small laugh, “You idiot.”

“Not helping,” Shawn huffed back, dreading having to go online and face the wave of drama that was undoubtedly unfolding. “How bad is it?”

Geoff chucked, “They’re pretty cute pictures to be honest; a bit blurry and taken from the other side of the road so you can’t make out too much, but still cute.”

“Ugh,” Shawn groaned, dropping his head back again, “okay, I should probably, definitely check up on her then. Thanks for telling me, dude.”

“No problem, let me know how it goes. I’ve got to go, but I’ll talk to you later, dude.”

“I will, yeah. See you later,” Shawn nodded as he spoke into the phone before hanging up.

Three hours later and Shawn had still not worked up the courage or the right words to message Summer. He’d tried distracting himself by starting to write a new song – a song he was adamantly telling himself was notabout her – but his eyes kept drifting from the strings on his guitar to his phone. Geoff had been right; the pictures were cute. A little out of focus, but it was distinctly him and Summer leaving Soho House with their wet clothes clinging to them, their hair dripping, their smiles bright. In the first picture, Shawn’s hand was on the small of her back as they grinned at each other; Summer’s head tilted back as he towered over her, her heels swinging on her fingertips. In the second picture, his arm was slung around her shoulders lazily, Summer smiling at the ground as he smiled down at her. He saved the pictures to his phone.

Shawn pulled up Eli’s contact and sent a message to him instead: Hey bro do you know if Summer’s alright?

Eli responded two minutes later: I don’t know???? Did something happen???

Shawn bit down on his bottom lip, his left hand running over the strings of his guitar as he held his phone in his right, unsure of how to respond to that. As far as he knew, nothing had really happened and he didn’t want to start thinking too far into it especially if Eli had no idea about anything, but on the other hand, maybe he would know why Summer had just up and left, or at the very least, what she was up to that day.

Shawn decided to go down the vaguest route he dared, not wanting to share anything with Eli that she maybe wouldn’t want shared: Nah just haven’t heard from her today, do you know if she’s up to anything?

The three dots indicating Eli’s response showed up immediately: I’m not sure but I know one of her brothers is in town so she might be with him??? Have you tried calling her?

Shawn sighed. There it was again. His prompt, his queue, to call her, to actually try and engage with her instead of talking to other people about how he should be calling her. Reluctantly, Shawn typed his response: I haven’t…probably should huh

Yeah probably haha, came Eli’s immediate reply, and Shawn knew he couldn’t procrastinate on it any further. He couldn’t help feeling nervous though, and he didn’t know why.

His finger hovered over the call button by her name and he realised he’d never actually called her before. They’d been texting all week, sending each other silly shit and little tidbits of their days. He knew all about how she had a running joke with the barista in the Starbuck’s by her work and how he called her every season but Summer. He knew how Jackson-From-Accounting had led a financial presentation with his boxers sticking out of the waistband of his trousers on Wednesday. He knew how she and her friend had watched a couple fighting across the street from her apartment through her kitchen window, the pair of them narrating their own version of what was being said, half drunk on a bottle of wine shared between them.

He pressed call and heard her number being dialled. His breath caught in the back of his throat at the immediate sound of her voice, but the tension he’d built up in his shoulders dropped as he realised it was just her voicemail: “Hello, this is Summer Little speaking. I’m sorry I’m currently not available, but please feel free to leave a voicemail with your name and number and I’ll do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.” She sounded so professional, and once again he was taken aback by the contrast between who she was casually and relaxed, and who she seemed to be at work. He had had the same reaction when he saw her walk out of her office building the night he’d picked her up for their date. By how fast the dial tone had switched to voicemail, Shawn could tell that Summer had her phone turned off, so he didn’t bother leaving a message.

Shawn got up and moved to his piano instead, using it as an excuse to stretch out his back. His index finger tapped impatiently on a single key as his mind waited for a melody to form. But all he could think of was how their eyes had connected when he’d pulled them under water. That had been one of his impulsive, split-second decisions fuelled by the crazy bursts of confidence he seemed to keep experiencing around her.

The way she’d looked up at him from the pool with her hair slicked back and hand outstretched and beckoning him to jump in and join her made him wonder if maybe mermaids were real, and then he thought that being drowned by one wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. He certainly always felt like he was drowning every time she looked at him.

Frustrated, he banged both of his large hands down on the keys, the piano letting out a million mismatched notes at once. It was no use; he couldn’t spend another three hours pacing around the condo trying to distract himself from her absence, the image of her curled onto his guest bed with her wild hair flayed out around her like a golden halo permeating his every second thought and it was driving him crazy.

Grumbling, he marched through his bedroom into his closet, pulling a black zip-up hoodie over his shirtless torso and exchanging last night’s basketball shorts for a pair of sweatpants. If pacing wasn’t going to cut it anymore, then maybe running would. He slipped his trainers on and headed outside, firmly lodging in his earbuds and turning up his carefully curated running playlist that helped him drown out everything but the thudding of his feet on the pavement.

Downtown Toronto wasn’t the most ideal place for a run, not with all the stop lights and pedestrians he was forced to dodge, but it kept his brain active and far enough away from any and all thoughts of how she had bitten down on her lip when she told him about how she’d fallen from the top of the cheer pyramid in her freshman year of High School; an incident which incidentally also defined the end of her cheerleading career because she’d been so embarrassed by it.

His heart was pounding, and his blood was rushing, and for the first time in a week it wasn’t because of the sharp way in which her dark eyes flicked up to meet his, or how warm her skin felt every time he dared to touch her, or how her nose wrinkled when she laughed. Shawn headed down towards the harbour-front, which was generally populated with more fellow runners and their dogs than cars and trucks.

Dark Blue by Jack’s Mannequin came on shuffle, and Shawn picked up his pace, shaking his sweaty head of hair as he tried not to think about Summer’s dark blue eyes that and how they always seemed to look black in dim lighting; and he tried not to think too much about how he’d never laid eyes on them in the daylight and how glorious she must look then: radiant and golden and glowing in what surely must be her element.

The stoplights turned red just as he was approaching, so he slowed down, jogging restlessly on the spot as he waited for them to go green again. A hand catching the back of his arm made him come to an abrupt stop. He turned, pulling his headphones from his ears as he looked down at a group of three girls smiling shyly up at him.

“Hey Shawn,” the one in the middle said, clutching her phone in her hand.

He grinned back, straightening up a bit as he ran a hand through his hair self-consciously, “Hey guys, how you doing?”

“We’re really sorry, we didn’t want to bother you but then…well, we just wanted to say hi,” another of the girls said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“No problem, guys, don’t worry about it,” Shawn smiled, shifting his weight around, “did you guys want to take a picture?” The girls all nodded eagerly in unison, smiling widely at him and each other as Shawn leaned down to take pictures with each one.

He was just thinking how this was the best distraction of all, until suddenly it wasn’t anymore: “Not to be nosy or anything, but who was that girl in the pictures from last night?” the girl standing closest to him asked, and he could almost feel the hairs on his back stand up.

A million answers ran through his mind and he didn’t know which one to pick. Of course, people were bound to ask him, of course everyone would want to know. He knew that Summer was a lot of things: fun, bright, beautiful, and currently unavailable. Shawn, however, wished he had a better answer himself, but her question had unleashed a torrent of new ones: who really was Summer Little, what was she to him, and most pressingly, what was he to her?

“Just a friend,” Shawn smiled through the tight feeling in his stomach.

He was wearing the same pink hoodie she had spent the night in and he felt a little silly. He wouldn’t say he was pining, but he liked how it somehow smelled a bit like her and him and the chlorine from the pool all mixed together. He wanted to say he was wearing it because it was his favourite hoodie, and he never would have admitted that he picked it for her to wear for that very reason either. He looked down at how the sleeves came down to just the right spot on his wrists and thought about how her hands had completely disappeared within them as she waved her arms around animatedly, the extra fabric folding down and swishing about with her movements.

Shawn instinctively reached into the pouch of his hoodie for his phone, before remembering that he’d left it on top of the piano – he’d been checking it so regularly, hoping to see her name popping up, that it was driving him mental, so he’d decided to put it out of his immediate reach. He hadn’t tried calling her again, he didn’t want to come on too strong, wanted to give her the space she needed, especially if she’d seen half of the things going around online.

The tight knot in his stomach had not unravelled itself. If he was being honest with himself, he was worried and disappointed and annoyed at himself.

He was worried that she was upset with him for putting her to bed instead of waking her, or with their situation – whatever it was, he really had no idea where he stood with her – or by the way both his fans and the media had jumped all over the pictures of them leaving Soho House.

He was disappointed because this was not the first time this had happened. It seemed that every time there was a girl he warmed to it was his lifestyle, who he was, and what he did that drove a wedge between them. It was like he couldn’t have more than two great loves in his life. He had chosen music, and it was that choice, that seemed to have robbed him of any chance at romantic love, and here it was, seemingly happening all over again.

He was annoyed because he should have known this would happen, not because of Summer, but again, because of who he was. He should have said something to her, should have warned her that people would take an interest in her if she spent time with him. He should have known that there would probably be someone taking pictures outside of Soho House – there always were, and he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. He shouldn’t have been so self-indulgent in wanting to watch her sleeping form, in wanting to pick her up and carry her to bed, in wanting to wake up to her the next morning. Maybe if he hadn’t slept in as late as he did, he could have made her breakfast and convinced her to stay.

Shawn watched as the water for his pasta boiled, bubbling slightly over the rim. He poked at the pasta with his wooden spoon, watching it sink further into the pot. The kitchen tiles felt cold against his feet and he shuffled around impatiently, hunger pangs joining up with the anxious twisting in his stomach. He’d decided to try making his mom’s Bolognese recipe, but he knew it was never going to turn out as well or be nearly as comforting. There is always something inherently less satisfying about cooking for yourself as opposed to being cooked for or cooking for someone else. He wondered briefly if Summer liked Bolognese, but quickly diverted that train of thought back to focusing on the boiling water and his rumbling stomach.

Once again, he was acutely aware of how empty the condo was, the soft sounds of John Mayer drifting around through the sound system. Generally, Shawn never had an issue with feeling lonely, but there he was, standing barefoot in his kitchen wearing his favourite hoodie that now smelled just barely like Summer, and he felt deeply lonely. He stirred his pasta again, unsure of when it was really ready. He bet Summer would know, but he stopped himself halfway through that thought again to focus on bursting the big, boiling bubbles in the pot that were now threatening to spill over the rim. Maybe that was the sign that the pasta was done.

After plating up his meal, which barely resembled what his mother would dish up for him, he sat down by the low coffee table, folding his long legs underneath the exact same way he had a child. He was even tempted to turn on some cartoons for the additional illusion of comfort but thought better of it. He quite liked brooding to John Mayer over his own sounds of slurping up pasta. As John sang away about love and heartbreak, Shawn couldn’t help but think of Summer – not that he was in love, let alone heartbroken – but still, she was on his mind, and he allowed it to wander. This morning, when he realised she’d gone without leaving so much as a note he had still been convinced he’d hear from her; they had had too much fun and she seemed much too warm of a person to just ghost him, but sitting there on his living room floor eating his shitty version of his favourite comfort food and feeling desperately lonely and sorry for himself, Shawn started to think he’d never see her again. He couldn’t even remember what the last thing was that they had laughed about. Not that it mattered, he’d only known her for a week and people were constantly coming and going in his life. But then he thought about how he’d never get to see the sunlight bouncing off her golden curls, and his stomach tightened just a little. At least, he thought, he got to watch her dive into a pool and hold her tight in the water and see how her eyelashes stuck together. But he never got to kiss her, and that thought was another kick in the gut. He’d been so close, too; had her backed into her door, her head tilted back as she looked up at him and he knew she would have let him kiss her.

He heard the distinctive sound of his phone buzzing against the wood of his piano, and his head whipped around, mouth halfway through chewing a forkful of pasta. Surely not, he thought, it wouldn’t be her. He told himself to stay seated, to not rush up and check his phone on the unlikely off-chance that Summer had messaged him. He knew it was probably Andy asking something about the production of the next album, or, more likely and much more dreaded, about the publicity surrounding the photos circulating from the night before.

Swallowing his mouthful, Shawn caved in to the urge and scrambled out from under the coffee table, jumping over the couch to reach the piano faster. He picked up his phone and he swore his heart stopped for a beat or two.

10:43PM, Summer Little: Hey, can I call you? - TAGLIST (let me know if you want to be added!)

@crownedbyluke @divergentseagreengirl @lurhemmings @sweetcherrycal @carlaimberlain

#c writes #my writing #Shawn mendes #shawn #mendes #Shawn mendes imagine #Shawn mendes fanfiction #Shawn mendes fluff #shawn fic #Shawn mendes fic #Shawn imagine #Shawn fanfiction #Shawn fluff #Shawn angst #Shawn mendes angst #the height of summer #the height of summer chapter 4 #Youngblood network

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killingkueen · 6 years

Text

something old, something new

A RCIJ fic for @thatravenclawbitch

Prompt: lovers who can’t move on

Summary: she returned as a favor to Jefferson, that was all. she hadn’t meant to open old wounds

Rating: idk. M-ish? There’s much talk of detailed sexy times, but not much happening otherwise.

It started with milk.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Jefferson.”

“Don’t want—” he sputtered. “Belle, you go out for a quick grocery run and you return hours later, sans any actual groceries, might I add—”

Her purse thumped loudly as she dropped it to the table, knocking the mail to the floor. She opted to ignore it.

“Leave it alone.” She had barely managed to come away with her dignity, and he was concerned about groceries.

“—with more spots on your neck than a leopard, hair a mess—”

While she kept herself from tugging on her collar, Belle couldn’t help but run another hand through said hair, conscious of the fact that it was very much no longer in the neat style it was when she had left. Her wrists hurt too, from where they’d been squeezed, and she was pretty sure there was a mark on her back from how hard she’d hit the edge of the sink.

“Jeff, please.”

Milk, of all fucking things.

“Darling, you have been ravaged and I want the details. Did it happen in the parking lot? Did some Fabio sweep you off your feet so suddenly you just had to have him in your car? Or—” he lowered his voice, eyes gleaming. “Was shopping all a ruse and you snuck out to meet with a Tindr date?”

Belle rolled her eyes so hard she almost felt them rattle (though she could admit that she had missed his dramatic tendencies). “Are you so shocked?”

“Hardly. I’m jealous. You’re here to help me get laid.”

Her lip twitched, then bloomed into a full smile despite herself. “As if you need my help.”

“I do just exude sex appeal, don’t I?” He shot her his best smoulder, pouting his lips, his hands up to frame him face.

“And have a jawline that could cut glass.” Belle leaned back against the counter, relieved he was letting her change the subject. “Chicks dig that, you know.”

“I admit I was hoping for the more masculine crowd, but I’ll be sure to show off my good side all the same.”

He wandered over to the (empty) fridge, pulling down the take-out menus that were pinned to it. “Speaking of, the beautiful bride-to-be wants me there extra early for the rehearsal. You okay coming with me? She could use the manpower.”

Belle absently ran her fingers over her neck, ignoring the pleasant soreness. “That’s fine, I guess. Is there a lot left to do, then?”

“I’m the maid of honor, Blue Belle. My sacred duties are never complete.” He flashed another smile at her before shuffling the menus about in his hands. “But, her future father-in-law is apparently a bit much, so I think she just wants someone on her side to run interference in case he gets nosy.”

“What, too overbearing? Judgmental?”

“More ‘surly asshole.’” He eyed the marks along her neck, only getting deeper in color. “Actually, you might want to do something about those. Then again, if you wear that nice green dress, you know, the one with the low scoop neck? He might be so scandalized he’ll forget about Emma completely.”

“I'm not some sacrificial lamb,” Belle laughed, tugging again at her collar.

“Anything for the cause, darling. Now then,” he held the menus out like a spread deck of cards. “Do you want Chinese, Korean, or pizza?”

Shifting on her feet, she looked at the options without much enthusiasm. It was after all the same spread they had been enjoying all week, since Belle arrived; lunch, dinner, and leftovers for breakfast if they could stomach it.

“And to think I promised you an actual home-cooked meal tonight.”

“You’re the one who decided getting your rocks off was more important than groceries. Be grateful I’m letting you choose at all.”

She pursed her lips. She did feel a little bad about that, actually.

She had been in the dairy isle. Her phone in one hand, typing out a message to August about her latest article, the other hand pulling out a half gallon of milk. She had glanced down to check the expiration date, had looked to her phone when it tried to autocorrect ‘blunder,’ the door to the fridge closed with a cool gush of air, and when she looked up, there, behind her, reflected in the glass—

“If you feel that strongly about it, how about you decide then?”

“Belle?”

She turned away, resisting the urge to sweep her purse to the floor (it’d be a mess to clean up, and not the satisfying kind). She reached for the cupboard nearest her, hoping for a glass. No luck; only plates awaited her.

“Try the one to the left,” Jeff said, realizing her intention.

She heard the faint swish of paper as he fiddled with the menus.

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it,” he said as she filled a glass from the faucet. “But bottling things up has never worked for you.”

Belle took a sip of water. She would kill for a window she could look through, right now. A spice rack, even. Anything but the sad, peeling yellow wallpaper of Jefferson’s apartment.

“I looked up, and there he was,” she said finally. “He…had cut his hair.”

“You knew him, then?”

“I did, yeah.” Her gaze shift from the sad wallpaper to the sink; clean, shining. A true contradiction to Jefferson’s sporadic, messy nature. “From before.”

He hummed behind her. She could practically feel his frown.

“He kept it long, you know? Used to, rather. I could see his ears. Never seen them before.” They were pointed, slightly curved inward, like a pixie’s, but that wasn’t what had stood out to her, when his face had appeared over her shoulder. His eyes had been dark; two storm clouds ready to split, or swallow her whole. The sharp angles of his face were nearly jagged in the glass, especially without the soft frame of his hair. His face was pale, his lips pinched at the corners. She wanted to run her fingers along the line of his brow, but he looked too sharp to touch, like if she tried, she’d bleed.

“And that got you hot and bothered?”

Belle rolled her eyes at the wall, not giving that the benefit of a response. “I dropped the milk.”

“The milk?”

“He was just suddenly there, and he surprised me, and I dropped the milk, okay?” She turned to face Jefferson, who had his hands up in a placating gesture. She sighed. Lowered her voice. “At least it was only a half gallon.”

“And?”

“The jug broke, and it was all over the aisle, and I had milk running down my leg, and he was just...looking at me.” His suit was unfamiliar, his shirt a light purple she hadn’t seen him wear before. He was altogether brand new and just the same as he’d been the last day she saw him; he even still had a pocket square. A fucking pocket square, placed expertly in his meticulous three piece suit, that he was wearing in early summer, in Boston.

Of course she’d embarrass herself. Of course not a drop of milk landed on him; it wouldn't dare.

“I left the basket right there in the aisle. Ran to the bathroom.” She needed to be somewhere else, where he wasn’t looking at her. Where he wouldn’t open his mouth and—

“The bathroom?”

“He, uhm, followed, which I wasn’t expecting. There was a knock, and there he was, again, with my purse and cell phone, and…”

“How courteous.”

“I pulled him in, locked the door, and before I knew it, my back was against the sink, my skirt was hiked up to my waist, and my panties were...” she shrugged. “Elsewhere.”

Jefferson gave her a searching look, from the top of her head to the love bites on her neck, to the pale expanse of her legs. She shifted uncomfortably; Jeff was perceptive at the worst of times.

“He kept them, didn’t he? Your panties.”

“He did, the bastard. I liked that pair.”

Jefferson snorted. “I didn’t know you had it in you.” He dropped the menus on the counter, his movement careless. “You got off, at least?” he asked.

Belle huffed, annoyed at his casual tone.

“Look, Belle, if you’re going to fuck your ex-boyfriend in a grocery store bathroom, you might as well get off.”

“Yes, God. He got me off.”

Admitting that much was a mistake. His eyebrow waggled. “Oh, he did, did he?”

“That’s all you’re getting out of me, you pervert. I’ve said quite enough already.” Belle took another sip of water. She paused, eyes narrowing. “I never said he was my ex.”

“Didn’t you?”Jeff knelt down to pick up the mail she had spilled, setting it back on the table without looking at it. “You can pick the take-out, but I’ll choose what we watch, yeah?”

That meant she was at the mercy of VH1. She looked to the menus abandoned on the counter, sore and empty, and wondered how much more of America’s Next Top Model she could take.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt Jeff’s arms go around her shoulders, crushing her to him, her arms pressed to his chest, water spilling between them. He ignored how it soaked into his shirt.

“Boston is a big place, honey bird,” he said. “You’re not here much longer—chances are you won’t see him again.”

She sighed, breathing in the familiar scent of pine and wild flowers (he smelled nothing like cedar. Nothing like woodsmoke and whiskey).

“Yeah,” she said, her voice tight and small. “You’re probably right.”

Belle cursed under her breath as she turned into the parking lot of Behind the Glass Sports Bar and Grill, the venue of the wedding. She pulled into the first empty space she could find, between a blue minivan and a yellow bug. After a quick scan, she found Jefferson’s car near the back of the lot, and gave a sigh of relief. She might be late, but at least she was in the right place.

Stupid dreams, keeping her awake last night. Stupid Jefferson, letting her sleep in and not waking her on time. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

At least her dress made it look like she put effort into her appearance, and that she had the foresight last night to rub vinegar against the bites on her neck. They had faded to a light enough blemish that she was able to conceal them with her make up before she had made a mad dash from the apartment.

Belle looked at her face critically in the visor mirror. Digging through her purse, she pulled out her soft pink lipstick, putting on a quick coat before stepping out of her car. There. She was as ready as she’d ever be. She didn’t have mascara, and only her concealer, but a good shade of lipstick worked wonders in a pinch.

When she stepped through the door to the bar, she was met with a large room; sports decal and neon signs lining the walls, large TVs set up high so a screen or three could be viewed from any vantage point. Despite it being nearly noon, the place was empty. Well. Nearly.

“Belle!” Jeff said extravagantly. “Welcome to our base camp!” He was beside her almost instantly, as if he were waiting by the door like a puppy. “So glad to see you made it.”

His hands gripped her shoulders, and he peered into her face critically, his eyes making a path down to her neck.

“Feeling better?”

“I got a lot of sleep. I needed it, apparently.”

Jefferson nodded, his arm sliding around her waist as he turned, his hand pressing lightly at the small of her back so he could lead her into the building.

“It’s important to feel refreshed. This is your vacation, mind, no matter how you might be put to work. Now,” he said, pushing open a door that was next to what Belle presumed to be the kitchen. “How about I introduce you officially to the bride and groom.”

The room Belle had been led to was private, a place set aside for large parties away from the other guests. Most of the tables were pushed against the far wall, the chairs stacked next to them. At the only table in the center was a blonde woman, arms crossed and leaning back in her seat. She had turned to watch them when they entered. The man to her right was still bent over whatever it was they had spread out before them on the table.

“You must be Belle,” the woman said, standing.

“And you’re Emma.” Belle smiled warmly, holding out her hand. “Jefferson has told me so much about you.”

Emma grunted. “I can only imagine. I assure you he’s told me far too much about you.”

The words were standoffish, but the tone was warm, even despite the not quite smile on her face. Belle couldn’t help a laugh. “Yes, he does have far more enthusiasm then sense, doesn’t he?” she said, voice bright.

“You guys are both so mean to me. It’s a wonder I put up with it at all.” Jeff said.

By now the groom had stood also.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Belle. It’s nice to meet you, finally.”

The groom was tall, with slightly curly hair and a good amount of stubble. His eyes crinkled, friendly and open when he smiled at her, his hand large and warm as they shook.

“I’m Neal. And please don’t worry about it. I understand how Jefferson can keep you up at night.”

He grunted as Emma jammed her elbow into his side.

“Don’t be gross,” she said.

“Not what I meant,” he laughed, dodging another jab. He kissed her cheek, before he slid back out of her reach.

“No, I know what you mean. He doesn’t turn off,” Belle said with a pointed look in his direction.

“I let you sleep in, didn’t I?”

“I was told I’d be put to work,” Belle said, watching as Neal sat back down. “I’m good at organizing, if you need it.” She looked back at the tables and chairs that were pushed against the wall. “How many are you expecting?”

“There’s you and me,” Jefferson said. “We make up the wedding party on Emma’s side. The best man is Neal’s best friend from college.”

“Mulan’s great,” Neal said, “Real life of the party.”

Emma snorted. “Her girlfriend somehow convinced us to let her be the flower girl and ring-bearer.”

“Apparently it was her dream as a kid to be a flower girl, but she grew up with a distinct lack of weddings, so she never got the chance.” Neal said. “So out of the goodness of our hearts, we’re letting her live her dream.”

“And to top it off,” Jefferson said, “Philip will be officiating.”

“And Phillip is…?” Belle asked.

“Their boyfriend,” Emma said, voice flat.

She looked to the blonde, wondering if it was a joke. From the look on her face, it was not. Belle nodded. “This wedding is going to be amazing.”

“They’ll be here tomorrow, for the actual ceremony,” Neal said.

It was a little odd that three key players in the wedding wouldn’t be attending the researshal, but Belle didn’t comment. She was getting the feeling they were going for a small affair; as long as everyone knew their lines, she was sure it would be fine. “How many other guests?” she asked, thinking of how to set up the tables and chairs.

“My father will also be here,” Neal said. “He’s the reason we don’t just go the courthouse, honestly.” Neal scratched the back of his head, frowning. “Lot less trouble if we do it that way, but he was insistent.”

Belle turned back to the couple when no one continued.

“Wait, so, your father, your party of three, me and Jeff,” Belle listed. “That’s all? For this entire place?”

“We wouldn’t let him pay for the honeymoon, so he’s paying for the party,” Emma said. She crossed her arms, leaning back against the table. “He demanded a venue, so I gave him one. Sue me.”

“If it seems like this has all been put together very quickly and last minute, it’s because it was,” Neal said, smiling.

“Hardly something to be proud of,” a new voice interjected. A very familiar voice, that was accompanied with the very familiar tap of a gold-handled cane. “If you’d both just give me a little more time, I could get a wonderful ceremony set up for you.”

Once, when Belle was a kid, her babysitter had taken her to a park. Near the edge had been a tire swing, four holes drilled into the flat side of the rubber and hoisted up with glinting metal chains, hung about three feet from the ground. She had begged and pleaded to be allowed a turn, and her babysitter had finally given in.

An older boy had offered to swing it for her. When the kid pulled on one of the chains she spun around and around, the world becoming blurry and fluid.

“Again! Again!” she yelled when she slowed.

The boy pulled harder. Belle, somehow, let go.

She never forgot the feeling of being suddenly airborne, of landing hard on her back, the wind whooshing from her chest.

Hearing the tap of a cane, the soft brogue of his voice, she felt just as small and vulnerable as she had been as a child, stunned and wheezing, staring up into the sky not knowing what had happened.

Jefferson raised his eyebrow at what had to be the shock on her face. He stepped closer, arm once again winding around her waist.

Belle tried to breathe, to calm her fluttering heartbeat.

“Hey, Pops,” Neal said, standing again. He crossed the room and clasped his father on the shoulder. “Wed don’t want a grand affair. What we have now is more than perfect,” he said with the air of someone who’s repeated the line many times before. “We were just about to make a game plan for the day. Have you met Emma’s friends yet?”

His brown eyes (soft when looking at his son, sweet like molasses) flickered to Jefferson and Belle, who stood like pillars. She watched his eyes harden, the sweetness evaporating right before her eyes.

He looked to her, then to Jeff, beside her.

With a final press of his hand on her back, Jeff stepped forward, bowing grandly. “Jefferson Louis Masters, at your service. And my lovely date, Miss Belle Marie French.”

She fought the urge to curtesy. “My middle name isn’t Marie, you loon.”

“No?” Jeff straightened. “It should be.” He turned back to his audience, lip twitching when he was met with a steely glare.

“Miss French, how lovely to see you again.” The words sounded as if they were forced past his tongue, grimacing as if each were a tooth pulled.

“Mr. Gold,” she said quietly. “It’s been too long.”

“Has it?” His hand gripped the handle of his cane, his knuckles turning white.

His hand had been at her throat, yesterday; not squeezing, not applying any pressure, just holding. His other, on her hip, pressing her into the sink as he moved inside her.

She had traced the bruise he left last night, had remembered the delightful feel of it forming against the material of her skirt.

“I didn’t know you had a son,” Belle said. Her hand, unseen by the others in the room, clenched into the material of Jefferson’s waistcoat at his back.

Gold’s tongue flickered, wetting his lips. “And why would you?”

He hadn’t said anything, when his body was pressed to hers. She’d heard only his stuttered breath on her face, on her neck, his tongue tracing her collarbone. He gasped when he came inside her, the sound pulled from him.

Jefferson squeezed her shoulder. She tore her face away from Gold in time to see Jeff look away from her. She watched as his eyes narrowed, sizing Gold up. “You have very cute ears,” he said before Belle could think of anything to say.

Gold pursed his lips, unamused.

Belle wanted to sink into the floor. “Jeff,” she groaned. Far too perceptive.

“Right,” Neal said loudly. She had almost forgotten there were other people in the room. “Game plan. Flowers and cake.” Neal looked from Belle to his dad, then to Emma. She shrugged, as clueless as he was.

“We thought everyone would like to get on with their Saturdays, so we decided to divide and conquer,” Neal continued. “Emma can pick out her bouquet and some arrangements for the room, and me and Papa will pick out a cake. Belle, I thought maybe you could come with me and my old m—”

“My expertise is in flowers, actually. Jeff, you can vouch for that,” she said, quickly. “How about I go with Emma, instead? Besides, it’ll be fun, just us girls.”

“What—” Jeff said. “Wait a—”

“I know how much you love sweets,” she said, voice too loud, too cheerful. She was careful to keep her eyes on Jefferson, which was hard to do considering the betrayal that was present in his face.

Emma and Neal shared a look.

“Sounds good to me,” Emma said, pulling on a red leather jacket. “We’ll see you gents later, yeah?”

“Belle,” Jeff said, but she was already headed out the door.

“Save your receipts, Miss Swan,” she heard, but she did not look back.

The door closed behind her as she stepped back into the empty bar. It looked large and open with the sunlight streaming through the windows, when it was empty of patrons. It was friendly, though, and very warm. It wasn’t hard to imagine it full of people, there to watch the big game and drink with friends.

“You wanna drive?” Emma asked from behind her, drawing Belle away from the room.

“Ah, yes, that would be fine. You can tell me where we’re going.”

They stepped out into the sunshine together, Belle unlocking her car.

“You tell me. You’re the flower expert.”

“Oh,” Belle laughed, the sound a little forced. She quickly picked up her loose books and magazines from the passenger side and placed them in the seat behind her. “That was—I meant—”

Belle took a deep breath. She clutched the steering wheel like a lifeline. “I was referring to my father, mostly. He owned a flower shop, and I spent some time there when I was a kid. A lot of time, actually. So.”

Emma grunted. She shifted in her seat so she could reach her phone in her back pocket. “So you don’t know any good places around here.”

“Exactly. You navigate.” Belle started her car, looking behind her to pull out. “Look up the best five flower shops; we can look around, see what’s available. Since you need everything by tomorrow, we might have to go to several places.” Belle could faintly remember the days of going to work with her father. They got a lot of walk-ins, but most wedding bouquets were special orders, and she wasn’t sure what would be available so last minute.

“We’re not doing anything fancy,” Emma said, rolling her eyes, and typing something into her phone. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Right. Emma had probably been strong-armed into having a bouquet in the first place—though the thought of anyone trying to force Emma to do anything was laughable. Belle wondered if she had bothered to get a wedding dress.

Belle drove straight for another block before Emma said, “Hey, there’s a place close. Take a left up here.”

She flipped her blinker down, pulling into the turning lane.

“So,” Emma extended the word on her exhale. “You know Gold, huh?”

We were...ah…” Belle counted cars as they passed, waiting for a break so she could go. “Briefly acquainted, yes.”

Emma nodded slowly, her face carefully neutral.

“How long is ‘briefly’?”

“About 15 months,” Belle said after a long pause. She swallowed, throat tight.

“You owe him money or something? Take a right after the next light.”

Belle gave Emma a startled look.

She shrugged. “I keep telling Neal that Gold is a borderline loan shark. It’s going to come back to bite him one of these days.”

“N-no. I don’t owe him money.”

Emma hummed. “Grab the next parking space you find. We can walk from here.”

It was another block before Belle was able to pull to the side of the street and park. They both got out of the car, Belle locking it behind them. She grabbed for her wallet so she could pay for the meter, but Emma was faster, already feeding coins into its hungry mouth.

Emma turned to her, sighed. She put her hands into her jacket pockets. “I don’t know what all Jeff has told you about the wedding, but if you don’t want to be here, you can absolutely bail.”

There was a small part of Belle (and she wouldn’t admit to herself just how large it really was) that wanted to take Emma up on her offer. She could climb back into her car and leave, just as she had before.

She was still that little girl, hanging onto the chain links of a tire swing, watching the world blur past her, pretending she wasn’t a part of it.

Belle had hit the ground once, and she’d gotten back up. Surely she could do it now.

“I get it,” Emma said. “Gold can be a bit much.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Emma. But, look on the bright side,” she said, trying to sound more cheerful than she felt. “You have the perfect distraction. Gold will spend all his time this weekend hating me that he’ll forget about you completely.”

Emma snorted. “He’ll remember me soon enough.” Her eyes searched Belle’s face, but looking for what, Belle couldn’t say.

She shrugged, eyes sliding away. “Come on then.”

“It was excruciating.”

“It can’t have been that bad,” Belle lied, pretending to peruse Jeff’s bookshelves.

Jefferson glared at her. She could feel the sting of it at the back of her head. “Belle.” He waited until she turned to look at him. “I just spent three hours with a man who was radiating pure fury and hatred, the pure definition and embodiment of a lover scorned.”

“Jeff—”

“Of a lover scorned, Belle.” He snapped. “He thinks you’re my girlfriend.”

That made her pause. It wasn’t an unnatural conclusion to come to, really. Not with how affectionate her and Jefferson were, and wasn’t that Jeff’s own fault? He had introduced her as his date.

“If that bothers you—”

“It’s not that it bothers me. You’re a catch, Belle, but that’s not the problem.”

“I don’t—”

“Three hours, Belle. Three hours with a man who thinks he had sex with my girlfriend in a supermarket bathroom, and that I don’t know about it.” He flung himself on the couch, massaging his temples.

“Yeah, that would be awkward.”

“Awkward,” he scoffed. “I went along with it, by the way, if I haven’t made that clear.”

Belle sat down next to him. He put his head on her shoulder.

“It seemed the reasonable thing to do, since. You know,” he sighed.

Since I’m too ashamed to be in the same room as him? Since I’m too much of a coward to face him?

“Thanks for taking that bullet, I guess.”

Jeff groaned. “The thing is, Belle, the thing is—” He waved his hand in the air. “He looked for you. When we got back, cakes in hand—he insisted on three, for some reason, so chances are we’ll be stuck with leftovers—he looked for you. He thought he was being subtle, and I don’t know what he thought he was going to say. When he saw Emma was the only one at the bar, he just. Deflated. Didn’t look surprised, just disappointed. Bid us good day, and left, shoulders hunched like he was going out into a storm.”

Belle didn’t say anything. She didn’t trust her voice.

“Maybe I’m just projecting,” he said into the silence of the apartment. “I half expected you to be gone myself, when I returned ho—”

“Want to get irresponsibly drunk tonight?” Belle asked, before he could finish.

Jefferson sat up, his face so close to hers she could see the darker shade of blue around his irises. His gaze was intense, piercing.

Belle looked away. She had been examined enough for one day.

“Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

Belle was on her third glass of wine, leftover Chinese food left abandoned on the floor beside them. They had ended up on the floor, rather than on the couch or in the kitchen, but Belle couldn’t bring herself to care just then.

“The sex was always good, Jeff. right from the beginning, that man could do stuff to me that I didn’t even think was possible. No, I mean it,” she said when he snorted into his own wine glass; only his second, and he wa nursing it. “He knew exactly how to play me.”

She leaned back, her head resting on the couch cushion. “I trusted him completely. I’ve never been more content with a partner. I mean it. I trusted him so much, if—if he had so much as hinted that he wanted anal, I would have said ‘absolutely, let’s do this. I’ll grab the lube and condoms’.”

Jeff laughed outright at that. The sound gave her a warm feeling in her stomach that the wine couldn’t reach. “Have you ever tried anal?” he asked.

“Once. It was easily the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been in my life. But he’d have made it good for me. It was always good, with him. Gold took such good care of me.”

He was shaking with suppressed laughter. She wasn’t sure what was so funny, but she didn’t mind.

“Best sex I ever had was with older men, too, now that I think about it,” he admitted. “Mostly.”

“Yeah. Mostly.” Belle took another sip of wine. “What?” she asked, seeing that Jeff was looking at her, his eyes half-lidded with a mischievous glint.

“Was it always good with Gold? Even the first time?”

“Yeah, of course,” she said quickly. Too quickly, she could see.

“Tell me,” he said.

Belle never needed much convincing when she drank wine.

“It took a month into having sex before I gave him a blow job,” she admitted. “He never asked me to. I almost thought maybe he just didn’t like them. Whenever I tried to—” she waved her hand at her lap— “go down, he’d pull me back up and I’d get distracted, you know? And, like, I never really cared that much. God knows blowjobs are overrated.”

Jeff snorted. “Says you.”

She elbowed him. “I asked him about it once. He was sitting at his work bench, explaining to me how this antique—fuck, was it a hearing aid?—in front of him worked, and I had a sudden thought of how nice it would be, if my head were in between his thighs.”

“God, you focus on the weirdest things. His ears. A hearing aid. Oh my god, that’s it, isn’t it? You have a secret—”

She elbowed him again, harder this time, wine sloshing dangerously in her glass. If Jeff wasn’t careful she was going to stain his carpet. “He spent plenty of time between mine, you know, and I just—I just wanted to reciprocate for once.”

“How much convincing did it take?”

“Well, I said, ‘Gold, I want to suck you off. Now. Can I?’ And he just looked at me, surprised. That was it, really. He offered to move to the cot, to make it more comfortable for me, but I wanted him on that bench. So I crawled under the table, and, uhm, took him out.”

Jeff watched her as she talked, a filthy smirk on his face. “I bet he loved that, hm? Was he just like velvet on your tongue, hmmm?”

She snorted, her wine going up her nose when she tried to take another drink. “God—Jefferson!”

“I don’t know why you’d be so scandalized by that. It’s not like you don’t know I’ve given blow jobs before.”

She was laughing, her hands nearly shaking too hard to keep her glass steady. “Why am I even telling you this?”

“No, no please continue. I want to hear what happened.”

She licked at her hand where her wine splashed, the salt of her skin mixing with the sweet twinge of black cherry.

“I forgot where I was.”

“You were giving that man the best head of his life.” He frowned. “No, wait. You’re telling a story about bad sex. Belle,” he gasped, as if realizing her deepest secret. “Are you bad at blowjobs?”

She wondered if throwing something at him would be more effective. “That’s not—God, let me finish.” She leaned against the couch, remembering that day. The feel of his on her tongue, indeed like velvet: soft and hard all at once. His hands clawed into the table because he was worried about pulling too hard on her hair.

She remembered especially looking up into his face, his eyes wild and pupils blown wide, staring at her with such a look of what could only be called rapture. He watched her every movement so carefully, as if it was the last time she was ever going to touch him like that. It felt good, to be the one to make him look like that.

She had just wanted him to feel good. Wanted. Loved.

“When he, uh, was close, I pulled off and asked if he wanted to come in my mouth.” She paused, frowning down at her glass.

“Did he give you the wrong answer?”

Belle snickered. “Nope.” Before Jeff could ask what she meant, she said, “He shot off, right then and there.”

“He came on your face,” Jefferson gasped.

“He did!” she squealed, laughing. “It was partly my fault. The way I was holding him. If I had aimed for, God I don’t know, his stomach it wouldn’t have been so bad, but nope.”

Jefferson was wheezing, laughing with such glee she almost couldn’t make out his next sentence. “I can just imagine the look on your face.”

“He was the one horrified. He was sure I was about to storm out and not come back. He couldn’t enjoy the orgasm he was so worried.”

“Like you’d leave with come on your face,” he snickered.

“Right.” Belle leaned back against the couch again. She stared up at the ceiling as their laughter died down.

“Belle,” Jeff said into the quiet. The refrigerator hummed from the kitchen. “What happened?”

Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was Jeff’s voice. Maybe it was two years of silence, too heavy to carry any further.

“I just had to leave.”

“But why?” he insisted, sitting up. “You disappeared for months, with absolutely no word to anyone, and then when you finally get back in contact, you’re on the west coast? I thought maybe you had gone home to Australia, or fuck, been murdered or kidnapped into some cult, but no, you’re in fucking Oregon like some fucking hipster—” he cut himself off. When he spoke next, his voice was back to a low, even timber. “You were just gone, Belle.”

Her mouth was too dry to speak. She swirled what was left of the wine in her glass, watching the legs as they trailed down the sides like tears.

“Please. What happened?”

What did we do to drive you away?

“I don’t know,” she lied.

Jeff leaned down, sprawling on the floor. His arms knocked into the take-out containers, but he didn’t seem to care. Belle wasn’t sure where he had put his wine.

“Look, I can’t make you talk to me. I’m glad you’re here, Belle, but I don’t like the feeling of not knowing if you’re going to answer my phone calls, or if you’re still going to be here when I come home.”

Belle closed her eyes. It’s not that she didn’t want to talk, exactly; it was just that she wasn’t sure where to start. How did she open up those old wounds and face the disappointment she had caused?

“Disappointment?” Jeff asked, looking at her. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “That’s what you’re afraid of?”

When she left, she didn’t have to think about how much she had hurt him, them, everyone, or how much she had lost when she ran away when she did. So, yeah. Disappointment.

“I’m disappointed, Belle. You broke my heart, too, you know.” He leaned over, kissed her forehead. “But people get over disappointment.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her in. “You need to talk to us, Belle.”

“I just left,” she said quietly. “I just left him. I…” she sighed, wishing she hadn’t poured that third glass. “He didn’t even tell me he had a son.”

“Is that why, then? Because he wasn’t opening up?”

“No,” she admitted. “We talked a lot, about other things. About…” She waved a hand. “Other things. I kept telling myself, though, that it was only sex. That is was convenient and neither one of us felt any more.” She bit her lip. “I left, Jeff, and he never called. I guess I just convinced myself he had to think the same.”

“I see.” He sat up on his elbows. “You know something? Once you get past the asshole outer layer, the guy’s hilarious. I want him to be my new best friend.”

That surprised a laugh out of her.

“I’m serious. That man knows how to roast someone and I need him on my side. If you can’t fix this and heal for yourself, do it for me, Belle. If you don’t want this man in your life, I will happily take your place.”

“From what you’ve said about today, he’d more likely to push you into traffic.”

“I would take that chance. We’d be happy together.”

She rolled over so her head was on his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him. “You’d make anyone happy.”

He kissed her temple. “If you won’t talk to me, Belle, at least talk to him. He’s been waiting for you a lot longer than I have.”

She tugged at his vest, straightening it. “Why can’t we just run away together.” She breathed in his cologne. He smelled nothing like Gold, but it was still comforting.

“Because we both deserve better.”

“What if he doesn’t want me anymore?”

His arms wound around her shoulders, squeezing once, then letting go. “Talk to him, Belle.”

“Yeah,” she said, closing her eyes. “You’re right.”

Short and simple, Emma had said.

Belle stood in the middle of the party room at Behind the Glass Bar and Grill, a table at her back decorated with a pristine tablecloth, three simple single sheet cakes (one chocolate, one vanilla, one pumpkin spice with cream cheese frosting), and a vase full of bright wildflowers.

She watched as Emma swept into the room, all eyes on her, on her slim white dress that hugged her hips, on her bouquet of vibrant sunflowers, hibiscus and orchids. Jefferson was beaming, hands clasped in front of him, standing as still as Belle had ever seen him. Across from him was Neal, unshaven but otherwise looking crisp in his tux. Beside him was Mulan and Aurora, holding hands as they all watched Emma come down their makeshift aisle.

Even Gold was smiling, happy to share the day with his son. She watched his smile deepen when Neal held his hand out to Emma.

Phillip nodded to both of them. “Welcome to the ceremony,” he said to the small group gathered. “Everyone knows why we’re here, and I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say we all couldn’t be more thrilled to witness this blessed union.”

Belle couldn’t help the smirk when she saw Emma roll her eyes.

Emma and Neal said their vows. Aurora gave them their rings; they kissed. As everyone clapped, Belle looked over at Gold. She was surprised to see that he was already watching her.

He didn’t look away.

The soft light fell against the stone walls of the bar. Belle had been right; the bar was friendly and welcoming when it was filled with people. They had all moved out onto the main floor, everyone uncaring about their fancy attire.

Sunday wasn’t a huge pull for people, but there was enough noise and camaraderie, especially when patrons discovered Gold was picking up their checks in celebration of Emma’s and Neal’s nuptials. They were even offered a piece of cake, for as long as it lasted.

Belle sipped her water, watching Gold as he fiddled with his ring at his end of the bar. He was stiff, nursing a glass of whiskey, but had a handshake and a ready smile for anyone who came up to thank him for the free food and drinks.

She slowly made her way towards him, moving down a chair every so often. They both pretended that he wasn’t watching her get closer and closer.

Finally, all too soon, she was sitting next to him, staring into her drink. He watched the hockey game that was playing on the TV overhead, but she would bet the running tab he had that he wasn’t absorbing a bit of it.

“Did Emma choose this place just to annoy you?” she asked.

He looked at her in surprise, but Belle just shrugged. “You can’t tell me you’re comfortable.”

“This is where they met,” he said, after a moment. “They really didn’t care where it happened. I more or less called her bluff, I think.”

“Oh.”

They watched as a player took a shot. He missed.

“Jefferson and I aren’t together,” Belle said. “Never have been. We’re just friends.”

She felt him turn his gaze to her, but she kept her eyes on the screen. “We didn’t mean to mislead you. I’m sorry that happened.”

He looked down into his whiskey glass. “I see.”

She wondered if he missed his long hair; there wasn’t anything for him to hide behind anymore.

“I’m sorry I left,” she blurted.

His eyes flickered to hers, and she saw his lip twitch. He was desperately trying to keep his poker face.

“Are you?”

“My father died.” She gripped her water glass, the cold condensation wetting her skin. “There was a car accident, and he was just gone once day, and. It was too small, suddenly. Boston, my apartment. I felt claustrophobic and small, and I just...needed to leave, and…”

“So you did,” he finished quietly.

“So I did.” She swallowed back the tears threatening. “My lease was up, the semester had just ended at the college, so the library had cut my hours. The only thing really keeping me here was you. I kept telling myself that it was only sex, that it didn’t matter if I left. And then you didn’t even call, and I managed to convince myself that’s what you thought too. That I was right.”

“I’m sorry about your father.”

“Yeah,” she sucked in a breath. She let go of her glass, wiping her wet hand on her dress. “I…yeah. That’s no excuse though. I’m sorry I did that.”

He looked at her, eyes golden brown in the light of the bar. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and not let go this time.

“How long are you in town?”

“I don’t know.”

He grimaced. Gold opened his mouth to say something when he was interrupted by loud cheers from the other end of the bar. Neal had just dipped Emma, kissing her soundly as their audience clapped.

Belle felt her color rise. This was an inappropriate time to try to have this conversation. “I should let you enjoy the rest of the wedding,” she said. “It was a beautiful ceremony.”

Just as Belle was slipping away, his hand caught her wrist, pulling her back.

“Come to my shop tomorrow,” he said. “We can… we’ll talk there.”

Belle kissed him, just on the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she promised.

The shop hadn’t changed. There was the sign that hung above the door, large and old. Almost outdated, if it didn’t compliment the rustic brick building, and every other building on the block.

Belle stood on the sidewalk, counting the items she recognized in the display cases (she kept telling him to rotate stock out, but he never did. Maybe they could do it together. It was a good thought, she decided).

It was early, but the sun was bright. She tugged awkwardly on her sundress, wondering if he’d be in, or if she’d have to come back. She didn’t want to put this off longer than she already had, nor give him the impression she had disappeared again.

If this was going to work, she couldn’t shut him out. They’d move forward, together.

She took a deep breath. Belle pushed the door open, relieved that it was unlocked. With the bell twinkling above her, she stepped inside.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle christmas in july #yikes

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