#like you know how the first half of the series took place almost exclusively at night

[birdmenmanga]

in my brain the scene where eishi is staring at takayama flying away in the morning had always been on the stairwell but now I'm designing the building and like. let's be real. if the building is really like 15 stories high there're gonna be elevators. and if there are elevators obviously eishi's going to take them. which is still fine; he can do that gay shit where he presses himself up against the elevator window craning his neck to get another look at takayama; it ALSO goes with the whole metaphor of the apartment building being a system that forces eishi to do things in a certain way and which has to go. it's just that in order to work that particular metaphor the other metaphor, the stairwell sandwiched in the crevice of the building, so deep it creates a faux night that karasuma is STILL trapped in despite the worldwide birdmen come-out, needs to be scrapped and that makes me very sad

[itsabirditsabatitsaflyingrayson]

Like a Light in Dark Places, Like Dreams in the Night (Batfam fic)

When people asked, Tim always explained that he was there during the Graysons’ last performance, which was true.  Most people didn’t bother to do the math to realize that Tim was barely two years old that day.

Tim explained it this way because it was both simpler and less embarrassing than admitting that he’d formed a deep parasocial relationship with a boy who’d been in one episode of a French children’s edutainment series that ran reruns for some reason at three am on Spanish language television.

Let’s back up a second.

Tim has vague, fond memories of his first nanny.  He’s pretty sure she was the first and only person before Bruce to ever show him parental affection, and she was fired immediately when Tim’s parents came home to find that he had learned to speak Spanish almost exclusively.

See, turns out that if you leave your three-year-old to be raised by a Honduran woman who only knows a handful of words in English for the better part of the year, your kid ends up not speaking much English either.  Funny, how that works.  It had certainly come as a shock to Tim’s parents, who seemed to have been under the impression that language acquisition was somehow genetic.

Said firing happened about a month after Tim turned four.  His parents had promised to be home by his birthday, and his nanny had made a little callendar for him to mark off the days with, but of course they were late.  The reason his Nanny was fired then, rather than the year and a half or so previously, was simply that after missing his fourth birthday, his parents attempted to engage Tim in conversation for what was quite possibly the first time in his life.

For about a year, Tim’s mother hand-picked English speaking nannies to look after him, but none of them lasted long, and the less said about them the better.  By the time he was five, his parents figured he was capable enough to keep himself fed and watered without dying if left to his own devices, and so they stopped bothering with nannies at all.

Tim was capable of feeding and watering himself, given working pipes and a prompt delivery service, of which fact he was extremely proud.  In lieu, however, of any sort of authority figure to tell him when to go to bed, his sleep schedule became rather dramatically skewed.

This led to Tim, small, lonely, missing the only person who had ever shown him what love might feel like, as her memory slowly faded from his mind with each passing year like ink leaching away from an old photograph left unattended in the sun, watching Spanish language television at three am.

Tim was seven when he saw Dick Grayson on tv.

Let’s rewind again.

It wasn’t that Tim’s night at the circus wasn’t significant.  It would be untrue to say that he did not remember it, it would not entirely be true to say that he remembered it either.  It might be most accurate to say that he remembered remembering it.

For as long as Tim could remember he had had a memory.  The memory was bright-colored, like legend, and it went like this:

Once, when Tim was very small, his parents took him to a land where people could fly.  The people were colored brightly in green and yellow and red, and they danced in the air, and they were happier than any people Tim had ever seen.

Before they took flight, Tim had gotten lost from his parents, and the smallest of them had found him.  The boy had taken Tim’s hand and smiled like it was Tim that put the smile there, and chattered at Tim in bird language.  Tim remembered the boy’s face, and he remembered the boy’s hand holding his, and he remembered that the boy told him that he would teach Tim to fly too.

By the time Tim was seven, he knew that the memory wasn’t true.  There weren’t any people who could fly, not even in the exciting far off places that his parents were always running off to, and his parents had never taken him out of Gotham.  And anyway, if the bird boy could only speak bird language, how did Tim even know that he had promised Tim grace and freedom too?  By the time Tim was seven, he knew that the whole story of it was only a dream.

But then, one lonely three am, there was the boy, smiling out at him from the tv.  There was the boy, smiling at him from one episode of some French show for children, telling the grown-up host all about what life was like for a kid in the circus.  He didn’t speak bird language, he spoke French dubbed over in Spanish.  And he could fly, he didn’t have wings, and he flew on swings and wires, but he flew.

“ My family are the best trapeze artists in the world, we’re the only people who can do a quadruple somersault,” The boy said, casually boastful, matter of fact in his assertions, “I just learned how, which makes me the youngest person to complete a quadruple somersault ever.”

Tim stared, entranced, as the boy bounced all over the behind-the-scenes of the circus, introducing the show hosts to other performers and even an elephant that he said was his best friend.  Even on the ground, he moved like gravity had no hold over him, like he had some joyous magic that made the world brighter all around him.

The episode ended in barely twenty minutes, not counting commercials, and the world was dark and ordinary again.  Tim had just learned that his dreams were real, and that there was so much more to them than he remembered, and now they were gone again, and it was almost enough to make Tim cry.

But then, a few days later, in the small hours of the night, there was the episode, rerunning again, there was Dick Grayson with his bright eyes and warm laughter and fearless, seemingly effortless flight.  Tim rushed to record the episode, to hold it close and never lose the dream again.

And so, after that, whenever Tim was lonely, whenever he felt small, late at night in the dark, Tim would watch Dick Grayson in his glorious world that Tim could never touch, and Tim would listen while Dick told him what a family was.

Dick Grayson, the real one, the one that didn’t live in Tim’s TV or a dream of a memory, was older now, and he lived just next door.  Sometimes, when Tim’s parents were home, they would take him to Wayne galas.  Tim would see Dick there, wearing a dark suit and tie like everyone else’s, and his feet would be firmly on the ground in their shiny black dress shoes. Dick smiled like someone who was good at it, like someone who felt comfortable smiling, someone who could make it feel genuine even if it wasn’t.  But he didn’t smile like he did on French tv when he was seven, a smile bubbling over with joy, like there was so much joy in him that his soul couldn’t contain it, like it spilled over into everyone he touched, even through a tv screen.  Tim wondered if he still had light in him, somewhere.  He wondered if he still knew how to fly.  Tim wondered if Gotham ate up light and goodness, and took away everything bright and beautiful and free, leaving everything she’d gotten her claws into dark and dull and heavy.  He wondered if that was why his parents never stayed, if that was why Tim himself was never worth staying for.

So then Tim was eight years old, and he could keep himself fed and watered, and he even went to school on time most days, and he did at least half of his homework.  Tim had access to a computer and a library, and he learned things in his free time, which was all his time.  Sometimes he thought about how he wanted to make his parents proud, but he didn’t even know what that would look like, apart from standing up straight and not getting his clothes dirty and staying absolutely quiet on the rare occasions they were home.  Six months after his eighth birthday, Tim’s dad gave him a fancy camera as a birthday present.  Tim had no idea what he would do with it, but he was determined to use it, because his dad gave it to him.

Tim was a boy who had no one to tell him when to go to bed, and he lived in a city of nighttime vigilantes and he had a new camera.  He hadn’t really thought much about Batman before, but going out to find him seemed like the obvious thing to do.

Tim went looking for Batman, but what he found was Robin, and Robin flew.

Robin danced over rooftops as though gravity had no hold over him.  He wore a uniform of yellow and red and green, and he seemed to glow as though he could bring light to all of Gotham’s dark places.  When he smiled it was like joy was bubbling out of him, too much for his soul to contain.  Tim watched him, and it was like he had found that spark of magic again, for the third time in his life, each moment as unexpected as the last.

And then Robin jumped and somersaulted in the air, one, two, three, four times.  “We’re the only people who can do a quadruple somersault,” Dick had said, seven years old and bursting with pride.  Tim had every one of his words memorized.

Dick Grayson was Robin.   Tim felt that knowledge solidify in his heart.  Dick Grayson was Robin, and he flew.  Dick Grayson could fly, and he was magic, and he was kind and free and bright, and Gotham had not changed that, Gotham could not change that.

Robin flew, and Tim scrambled after him, camera clutched in his hand, taking pictures to hold close to his heart, capturing moments of brightness to light his way.

Robin flew and Tim followed, clinging to shadows.  Because once, on an edutainment show in France, Dick Grayson smiled right at the camera and said, “I can’t wait to introduce you to my family!” Like he meant it, like another lonely seven-year-old could be part of it.  Because once, in a dream of a memory, a bird child held Tim’s hand and told him he would teach him to fly.  Because Robin was light and magic and freedom, and Tim thought that maybe, just maybe, he could be too.

[missgeniality]

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite​ 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest. 

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities​, @kithtaehyung​ and @baepsaetan​, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself. 

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse. 

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’. 

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step. 

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir. 

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!” 

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells. 

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy. 

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink. 

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’” 

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you. 

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend. 

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses. 

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting. 

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed. 

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it. 

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame. 

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone. 

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.” 

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest. 

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours. 

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls. 

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold. 

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm. 

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance. 

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.” 

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist. 

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in. 

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole. 

“Fuck me.” 

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings. 

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat. 

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no. 

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do. 

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide. 

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

 Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” 

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!” 

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!” 

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke. 

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting. 

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago. 

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not. 

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down. 

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges. 

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance. 

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream. 

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites. 

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major. 

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency. 

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless. 

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?” 

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act. 

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!” 

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day. 

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage. 

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home. 

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster. 

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities. 

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man. 

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation.  He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one. 

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.” 

“Hey!” 

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self. 

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath. 

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact. 

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church. 

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out. 

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief. 

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream. 

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding. 

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out. 

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne. 

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon. 

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself. 

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin. 

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires. 

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side. 

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.  

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim. 

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain. 

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information. 

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!” 

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.” 

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them. 

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck.  Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes. 

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.” 

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands. 

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.” 

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different. 

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you. 

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree. 

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can. 

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released. 

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself. 

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well. 

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat. 

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling.  You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat. 

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-” 

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say. 

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more. 

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again. 

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this. 

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long. 

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface. 

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment. 

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock. 

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back. 

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him. 

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right. 

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately. 

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release. 

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high. 

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you.  An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use. 

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him. 

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want. 

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago. 

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛:  @little7bitchh​, @afangirllikeme-blog​, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead​

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

[bookishofalder]

Catfish & Sunshine

Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader Mini Series

Summary: Frankie is secretly in love with his best friend. Thanks in part to Benny’s shitty horror movie recommendation and stray ice cream, feelings come out unexpectedly during movie night. 

Warnings: Language, SMUT, little angst, lots of fluff, poor writer understanding of US military benefits/retirement. WC 8,215.

A/N: I dreamed this up after rewatching Triple Frontier about a month ago (for the plot, of course) and let it sit for a while. Became inspired to finish it off this week and share it with you all-so please let me know your thoughts!

For over a decade, Saturday nights were, for Frankie Morales, usually spent with his best friends over drinks at their favourite bar. When deployed, the bar was instead smuggled whiskey that they shared under the stars, an attempt to imagine they were anywhere other than the current hellhole. As Special Ops soldiers, Frankie and his buddies had been through the worst of the worst together, until one by one they retired or were forced to retire, and then they were back to regular appearances at the local bar, for a while the five of them, then four.

Until Frankie met you.

Had someone come up to him during one of those nights years before and told Frankie that one day he’d be bringing you along to the bar to join him and the guys, he’d have laughed in their faces. But for a while, that was exactly what occurred, until you and Frankie grew so close that you usually ended up making different plans, like going mini-golfing, or lounging at his apartment and watching movies. Not that you didn’t love the guys, all whom you’d met except for Santi as he had been off the grid for just over a year when you and Frankie had met.

It was thanks to the elder Miller brother, Will, that he had even met you at all. Working at the VA office, Will had learned of one of the few retirement perks they had for putting their asses on the line for their country-physical therapy. And you came highly recommended, a star PT who had worked magic over his friends' ailments. Knowing Frankie suffered from shoulder and neck pains, Will handed him your card and encouraged him to book an appointment.

He hadn’t called straight away. He’d popped your card onto his fridge and every day he’d pass by it, consider calling, and then talk himself out of it. Until the pain became too much to bear, his latest menial job just a little too physical for him, causing him to consider using again just to dull the ache. But he’d walked by your card moments later and instead of making a terrible decision he had promised himself he’d never make again, he called your office. Made an appointment with your friendly receptionist, who thankfully had his name already because Will had put in a good word for Frankie and asked that they try and get him in straight away, whenever he finally did call.

Two days later Frankie was standing nervously in the treatment room, looking at a wall decorated with your various degrees and certificates. He was anxious not only because he worried he’d get his hopes up that this would help the pain only to be disappointed, but also because he had no idea what to expect. Years of service as a pilot had made Frankie into a man who planned, meticulously, leaving little in the way of surprises. But he’d reasoned that calling the office back and demanding they give him a minute-by-minute account of what the appointment would be like was probably going too far.

And then you had walked in and immediately his worries morphed into concern over the fact that he required a beard trim, that he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed and popped his usual cap on, probably appearing a little gruff. And fuck, he almost couldn’t breathe when you gave him the most dazzling, genuine smile like you were greeting an old friend. You were bright, a rare energy radiating off of you as though you absorbed it straight from the fucking sun, and you were beautiful. No wonder Will had winked at Frankie when he’d handed you the business card.

You were observant, introducing yourself and seemingly sensing his overall discomfort. Instead of launching straight to business, you gestured for him to sit and spent a good twenty minutes casually chatting, pulling information you needed from him while putting him at ease entirely. He learned then that Will had already sung Frankie’s praises, given you the heads up that he was a worrier and even told a few stories that showcased his talents as a pilot.

If Frankie didn’t know any better, he’d think his friend was trying to play matchmaker.

All thoughts of Will Miller, and pretty much every other thing on the planet, vanished the moment you laid your expert hands on to Frankie. You zeroed in on the worst source of pain and slowly worked away, and he could only agree with Will that you had magic hands. He could have died happily right then, as you chatted away and brought him the most relief he’d felt in years. You would pause occasionally to check in with his pain levels and make sure he was doing alright, always asking him to look at you to answer and searching his face as he spoke to ensure he was telling the truth.

The care you gave Frankie in just one appointment was enough to start him falling. And he kept going back, multiple appointments a week that not only had him walking taller, feeling lighter on his feet and reducing his migraines to seldom, but also allowing him to get to know you better. You were the kind of sweet-natured person that cried when you saw a sad commercial, laughed freely to the lamest of jokes, and seemed to wake up on the right side of the bed every day. You were sunshine, literal, tangible sunshine, and Frankie thought you might not even realize it.

Though Frankie had convinced himself early on that a woman as beautiful and kind as you could never be interested in a grouch like him, with his crows' feet and a closet full of demons. The longer he knew you little seeds of hope would sprout whenever he made you laugh so hard you had to stop the treatment just to hold your stomach as you giggled. Or when you’d share something with him innocent enough but, upon reflection, he would think it wasn’t something a normal patient-provider relationship would find exchanged.

But there was the age difference, a decade between you both that, if nothing else worked, would successfully extinguish his hope. He had wondered if perhaps you were just a decent people person, that the friendship he felt was there was entirely one-sided.

Until one day, a few months into coming to you for treatment, Frankie sat waiting for you to come in the room only for you to appear looking entirely unlike yourself. He booked his appointments always for the end of the day, a routine that promised he would get plenty of uninterrupted time with you and the conversation could flow without a time constraint. He had been so surprised that you weren’t grinning as you stepped into the room that he stood abruptly, filling with concern.

When he asked, softly, if you were alright, you didn’t brush him off like he might have expected. You instead looked up at Frankie, your lower lip trembling as your eyes filled with tears, and sobbed unexpectedly. That sound had torn a hole right into his chest and he had pulled you straight into his arms and hugged you close before asking you to tell him what he could do to help.

You ended up explaining that you had come in that morning to the news that a regular patient of yours, an elderly man you’d known the entire time you’d been working for the VA office, had passed away in his sleep. And you’d apologized to Frankie while sniffling and wiping at the tears, telling him you’d held it in all day but couldn’t do that when your friend asked you, and he had been baffled to realize you were referring to him. As your friend.

He had cut off your apology to hug you close again, smoothing your hair gently as he whispered calming words and sentiments to you in Spanish. And though you didn’t speak the language, you had since told Frankie it had done exactly what he’d hoped and made you feel all the better. 

After his treatment that day, Frankie asked if he could take you for a drink to toast your friend's life. He waited for you to close up the office, and then you’d followed him in your car to drive over to his usual bar. And you both drank to the veteran who passed, then ended up ordering dinner and remaining at the bar until late, talking even more freely outside of the office. If Frankie didn’t already have it bad for you, that night sure sealed it for him.

After that, you and Frankie began texting regularly, sometimes even calling one another to share a funny story or talk about something in the news. He had joined you for your former clients funeral, his hand rubbing comforting circles into your back before he took you out for lunch, then you’d ended up at his place to watch a cheesy movie, ordering pizza when you both realized there was a sequel that, if it was as bad as the first, you absolutely needed to watch.

And just like that, Frankie saw his life altered completely when you became his best friend.  

Currently, Frankie was seated comfortably on his couch, where he frowned at the TV playing a horror movie that you had insisted was supposed to be good, because Benny had recommended it. Considering the younger Miller brother could barely sit still half the time, that was supposedly good enough for you. 

You were tucked into Frankie’s side, eyes fixed on the screen until a jump scare had you jerk, then twist your face to press into his chest, because you hated the gory bits.

“Fuck! How does this not scare you even a little, Frankie?” You whined, unknowingly causing Frankie to swell with pride when he heard the note of admiration in your voice. He had started to suspect that the reason movie nights were becoming exclusively scary movies was that you were determined to find one that actually frightened him.

So far, you’d had no luck. But Frankie didn’t mind, because though you were already a touchy person in general, you were especially clingy when you queued up the next horror flick as if you trusted him to keep you safe.

Frankie didn’t reply, his chest rumbling with silent laughter that made you teasingly poke his side. He jumped, because you knew exactly where to aim, then cleared his throat. The scene ended, and he began to extract himself from your grip. “My sweet tooth is calling, cariño. I’m going to get some ice cream.”

You let him go, your head popping up, a big grin on your face, “Can I have some too, please?” And he nodded, smiling at you before walking across the open concept apartment and into his kitchen.

He stretched his back before opening the freezer where he had some bars next to an off-limits pint of Ben and Jerry’s. You had put it there months ago, telling Frankie it was for days when you got together and one of you needed to cry over a bad date. You called it ‘emergency’ ice cream. Frankie considered it to be ‘fuck you’ ice cream, because every time he opened his damn freezer he saw that pint and ended up thinking about how neither of you had been on a date with anyone since becoming friends over a year before, then falling into the same circular argument with himself-that the friendship was too important for him to feel the way he did, that he was jumping to conclusions and maybe you had gone on a few good dates that you just didn’t tell him about, and he was out of his mind if he thought you would ever feel the same way.

“Here you go, Sunshine,” He plopped back down next to you and passed you your bar, watching as you beamed at him widely, the inevitable result of his use of the nickname he’d dubbed you with a long time ago.

He desperately hoped you never realized the amount of affection truly behind that nickname.

Because how could he even begin to explain that you were literally sunshine in his dark life?

“Thank you,” You pulled the wrapper off, glancing at the movie and frowning. “Uhg. Benny promised the one was good! I’m starting to think he only recommends movies if they have at least one pair of tits.” You took the first bite of your ice cream bar while Frankie nearly choked on his own.

Amused as he was whenever you joked about your shared friends, Frankie also loved it when you swore. You were a goofy, happy little thing most of the time and curse words just seemed so out of character for you, pulling laughter from Frankie any time you caught him by surprise. You spent your days around gruff veterans and never seemed to lose any light, no matter how many real horror stories you heard. So whenever you managed to sound so uncharacteristically blunt, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Benny has always been a tits man,” Frankie agreed, and you giggled. He tried to refocus on the movie then, but it hadn’t captured his interest in the least. After a moment, you spoke again and he had to work on not choking.

“What are you, Francisco?”

Your tone was playful, light; Frankie’s head jerked in surprise to gaze down at you and you wiggled your brows, going for laughs. You seemed completely unaware of the roaring in his ears, the visceral reaction your words brought forth within him. You and Frankie had shared intimate tidbits like that before with one another, often during nights at the bar with the Miller brothers. After a few drinks and usually, because his friends knew exactly how he felt about you and tried to steer the conversations into dangerous waters and watch Frankie try to save himself.

Only, Frankie’s friendship with you during the last few months had become...deeper. After the operation Santiago had brought Will, Benny, Tom and him in on, your relationship had evolved. Because that nightmare had reminded Frankie just how dark shit could get in the blink of an eye, and he’d had to do things he thought he was done with when he retired from service. Worse, because they were just civilians using Santi’s connections and intel to rob a drug lord.

And you had no idea what he’d gone through, how hard he’d fought just to get home to you because he couldn’t-wouldn’t-tell you. Yet you still patched him up, physically and emotionally, when he’d come home three weeks later than he’d promised. You held him as he cried and never became angry with him, never questioned him for answers as to why he’d come home with one less friend and a whole lot of mysterious trauma.

After that, Frankie realized he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you.

So a simple, flirtatious little question? Yeah, it really managed to fuck Frankie up.

His friends had sensed the change as well, noticed how you held Frankie up when he felt like he couldn’t stand, how you comforted them all when they got home and cried along with them over Tom, over Santi not coming home even though you’d only met him once, briefly. You held strong for him at Tom’s funeral, which prompted the Miller brothers to tell Frankie in no uncertain terms that he simply could not let you slip through his fingers. If that fucking mission had taught them anything, it was that life was too short and you might as well live it to the fullest.

But the thing was, Frankie depended on you. Your friendship was the one real, good, pure thing in his life. And you gave it so willingly and unquestionably even after what he put you through that there was no fucking way he was risking it by telling you how he felt.

Christ, you even had a spot in his bathroom for your own toiletries, a favourite pillow on his bed for the nights you stayed, a fucking hook for your coat that he installed just a little lower than the other because you were so much smaller than Frankie.

And still, he wouldn’t look at what that might mean because he was afraid, and as much as you seemed to think nothing scared him, the truth was that a gory horror movie, or losing his friend, or even fucking live combat could never come close to the fear he felt when he pictured life without you.

You were Frankie’s Sunshine, and he never wanted to be alone in the dark again.

Aware he was still gazing down at you, Frankie found himself entirely at a loss for words. You didn’t seem to mind, simply waiting for him to respond while taking small bites of your treat. His cock twitched at the combination of your words, the innocent way you gazed at him, because Frankie hadn’t touched himself in quite some time and it didn’t take much to drive him up the wall.

His life with you had become remarkably domestic, routine. You often stayed multiple nights in a row at his place, preferring his company over being alone, and the shorter distance to your office. His spacious condo had one large four-piece bathroom, which meant there had been a few times where one of you was in the shower and the other came in, desperate to use the toilet before their bladder could burst. The shower had a thickly frosted glass enclosure, which provided plenty of visual privacy from both sides, the only indication that someone was in the shower was a very faint tint. This was never an issue until it was.

Exactly sixty-two days prior (not that Frankie was necessarily keeping count of passing time since his last orgasm), you had burst into the bathroom one afternoon unexpectedly. Returning early from your jog because you needed to pee, while Frankie stood in the shower. He listened to you tell him about a cute dog you’d seen outside his building. The thing was, Frankie had expected you to be gone longer, and you were in the middle of a three-day visit that had left him needy and horny because he hadn’t had time alone and yet you walked around in his fucking clothes, slept next to him in his bed, and he needed release.

He was grateful the tinted glass prevented you from having any idea what he was doing on the other side. And he had been close already when you came in, one hand fisting over his cock while the other pressed into the tile wall, and guilt sprang up in the back of his mind because he had been thinking of you as he touched himself. And you were just feet away, unaware and fuck if that didn’t lead him to the edge.

But it was when you had sat down to pee and he heard you give a little moan of relief that Frankie lost it, giving in to the most powerful-yet silent-orgasm he had had in fucking years. Rope after rope of cum, his legs violently shaking, and he’d wondered if he would pass out it felt so good. Then you’d flushed and continued speaking, washing your hands before telling him you were going to put on a pot of coffee. And the guilt Frankie felt was so immense that he vowed right there he wasn’t going to touch himself again. He cared for and respected you too much to reduce you to his graphic thoughts without your consent.

Sixty-two days later and you were testing his limits unknowingly.

“I, uh, I’m not sure,” He replied, keeping his eyes locked on yours. You frowned a little, kitten licking the ice cream absentmindedly. Frankie almost groaned, wondering if you were trying to kill him. “I guess, it depends on the person.” He was never, ever going to admit he was a you man, that your ass, your perfect tits, your pretty little mouth were everything he could dream and more.

He tried to shrug casually, as if indifferent.

“I guess it’s a funny question,” You said after a moment, laughing a little, “I mean, no one asks a straight woman if she’s an ass or cock girl!”  

Frankie took a too-large bite of his treat, the cold painful and giving him instant brain freeze but it was just the distraction he needed because seeing your plump lips wrap around the word ‘cock’ might just kill him. He coughed attempting to laugh at your joke despite the brain freeze, and you leaned closer in concern.

“Sorry, are you-ah, shit!” A piece of your ice cream bar, which you’d moved to hold higher as you were checking on Frankie, fell off and landed on your chest, instantly staining the pale pink t-shirt. You hopped up with a noise of discontent, catching the fallen glob and hurrying into the kitchen to toss it in the sink. “Damn it!”

Frankie reached out and paused the movie, standing up and intending to follow you. He took two steps, adjusting his cap as he moved, and then looked up to where you stood at the sink, running your shirt under the faucet. Freezing, he took it the sight of you standing in his kitchen, your shirt removed to run under the water, leaving you wearing yoga pants and a simple white bra. For a moment, he just shut down and stared at you dumbfounded, before internal alarms started sounding and Frankie’s eyes were sweeping over your curves, his eyes zeroing in on the lack of support your bra had, your breasts perky and full and fuck, he had to look away.

He looked up at his ceiling at cleared his throat “You uh, want me to grab you a shirt?” His voice came out much deeper than he was expecting. He hoped you didn’t notice, though with only being able to see your profile even if he did dare to look at you, he’d never be able to tell.

“Can I borrow your big sweater, please?” You asked him, and Frankie nodded as he hurried away, down the hall to grab the sweater he knew you meant from his room. He would have laughed at your suggestion it was his sweater when he barely got to wear it himself anymore, but he was trying to remember how to breathe.

Once out of sight in his bedroom, Frankie took a few steadying breaths before grabbing the sweater off the end of his bed. He was going to subject himself to a cold shower after he handed this to you because you were staying the night again and he could not climb into a bed with you this worked up.

One of the reasons that you and Frankie just worked as friends were your opposite ways of navigating life. Where Frankie was a detailed, meticulous planner, you flitted from idea to idea spontaneously until something landed right, and you seemed to enjoy pulling him along with you as you followed those random whims. And he let you pull him because he trusted you so completely. Even if he would still make a new plan in the back of his mind, it still felt like he was taking chances he never would have without you leading the way.

Planning was Frankie’s way of keeping control. Of keeping himself, his squadmates, his loved ones, safe and secure. After Columbia, where every bit of the plan had gone completely to shit, he’d needed to let you lead more often just so he could feel grounded because he didn’t trust himself any longer. And you had been happy to lead, to test his limits by pushing aside any planning he attempted and pull him from his comfort zone. You had taught him how to grapple with his instincts and his desires, giving him real-world methods to cope, including breathing as he was now.

So focused as he was on his breathing, Frankie hadn’t noticed you had joined him in his room, standing just inside the doorway. If he had heard you, he wouldn’t have spun around abruptly and take two long strides before realizing how close you were, nearly knocking you over as he did. He dropped the sweater when he reached out with both hands to grab your upper arms and steady you, and then he met your gaze.

Frankie couldn’t say whether it was the heat of his hands on you so unexpectedly, or the way you each shivered at the electricity that seemed to pulse from him to you. Maybe it was everything combined, years of friendship, longing and pining and then almost dying in the middle of the jungle only to come home and have you climb into his lap and sob in relief that he was home, and a million other moments in between.

But when Frankie met your eyes there in the doorway of his bedroom, he knew his expression was giving him away completely.

You were looking at him with wide eyes, your mouth slightly open in surprise, whatever words you were going to say long since lost. And then he saw it, was looking right at you when your expression shifted, no longer the innocent, playful woman but instead, one who was suffering just as much as he was, longing and love and this hunger on your face he’d never seen before.

Without hesitating, without thinking or planning his next move, Frankie tugged you against him and leaned down to slot his lips over yours, taken aback when he saw you close your eyes and stretch your neck up to meet him. When your soft lips connected to his, Frankie trembled and groaned, loving the feel of your body pressed against him, the way you smelled like something tropical, how even with your perfect curves you were so small compared to him. Kissing you was everything he’d dreamed and more.

He wanted to deepen the kiss, taste you, but even as he thought it his mind jumped ten steps ahead and imagined you on his bed and he had to stop himself from getting carried away. With great effort he pulled back, first breaking the kiss and then taking several steps away, panting heavily.

“Frankie?” You were out of breath, confused, and deliciously flushed. He could see your nipples tightened against the thin fabric of your bra, goosebumps along your skin. Just the knowledge that he’d had that kind of effect on you was enough to make him want to cum in his pants right there.

“Cariño, I can’t, I’m sorry,” It was physically painful now, his hard length straining against his jeans, but he was more concerned about you, and how afraid he was to lose you. “I-I’ve wanted to do that but you gotta know, I love you. I’m in love with you.” He couldn’t meet your eyes, instead choosing to look at his feet and rubbing his hands over his face.

You approached him again, just as quietly, taking him by surprise when you spoke from just inches away. “Frankie, look at me,” It was an order, a tone you rarely used but that always worked on grounding him, and he realized you understood he was struggling right now not to break down, terrified he’d fucked up the best thing in his life in a moment of weakness. He reluctantly met your gaze, swallowing thickly as he did.

“I need you to hear me right now, okay? Tell me.”

“I’m listening,” He confirmed, heart about ready to beat out of his chest, “I can hear you.”

“Good,” And you closed the gap between your body and his, pressing your hands into his shoulders. Frankie caught his breath. “I want you to do that again, and I don’t want you to stop. Please, kiss me again, Frankie, because I love you too and I’ve never wanted anything more in my whole life than I want you-“

Frankie cut you off, a growl ripping from his chest before he gathered you roughly into his arms and kissed you again, this time quickly swiping his tongue across your lips for permission to enter, and you gladly parted them for him, moaning when his tongue licked into your hot mouth. He slid one hand to the back of your head, his fingers weaving into your hair carefully before he pressed your face to his, needy to taste you more, to get drunk on you. Fuck, you were perfect.

When you whimpered against him, the sound almost lost in his mouth, Frankie moved, walking you back until you hit the wall and crowding you there. He ran his free hand across the bare skin of your side, heat coursing through his veins when you shuddered at his touch, keening for him. He hadn’t realized he was rolling his hips against you, his erection pressed into your stomach until one of your small hands somehow slipped between your bodies and ghosted over the front of his jeans curiously.

“Fuck,” He broke the kiss, this time simply to lower his head and kiss along your jaw, down your neck, “Sunshine, I fucking love you, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, sweet girl.” He licked the column of your throat as he moved to the other side of your face before biting gently. The sound that tore from you was so filthy he groaned again, dropping both hands to grasp your forearms.

“Frankie, fuck, don’t stop,” You were tugging at his shirt, and despite your request, he had to move back slightly to pull it over his head, his bare chest revealed to you and even though you’d seen him shirtless before, the intimacy of this time, of finally being with you after so long, made him self conscious. If you saw anything you didn’t like, you didn’t show it. Instead, you bit your lip as your hands tentatively roamed across his chest, trailing over his stomach lightly enough that he shivered. When you spoke next, you yet again took Frankie completely by surprise, your brows furrowing as your expression became more than just hungry, “Mine.”

You whispered it, but to Frankie, it was like you’d just announced it to the entire world. The possessive edge wasn’t lost on him, no, it shot straight to his core and snapped the final cords of his restraint.

“I should...I need a minute, Sunshine,” Frankie pressed his hands into the wall on either side of you, “I haven’t done anything in a long time, haven’t even cum, I don’t think I can be as sweet to you as I want to be.”

Your lust-blown eyes met his, “Why haven’t you cum?” He could hear trouble in your voice now, the not so careful way you spoke pulling dangerous images in his mind as he stared down at you, his jaw tense. When Frankie made no reply, you pressed your pointer finger to the middle of his chest, your eyes never leaving his as you slowly, lightly, moved it downward, trailing his dark hair. “Is it because you think of me? Are you that amazing that you won’t even let yourself cum because you think it’s wrong to think about me like that?”

A strangled noise was all he could respond with, his hands pressing desperately into the wall. You knew him too well, understood exactly what he’d meant without having to ask. And then you kept talking, and honestly, Frankie was floored at how dirty you suddenly were for him.

“I have to admit, you’re better than me, Frankie,” That finger trailed so slowly, closing in on his belly button now, “I’m not good like you, I think about you all the time. Especially when I touch myself, usually after I’ve spent a ton of time with you and I can’t fucking wait for a second longer. Wanna know what I picture?”

His voice was husky, a warning if ever there was one, “What did you picture, sweet girl?”

You moaned, your finger now closing in on the waist of his jeans, “You, bending me over the couch, that one is a favourite. Or waking you up with a blowjob, swallowing everything you’ve got because I know you taste delicious,” You unbuttoned his jeans now, sliding the zipper down with care, “But I think the winner, the one that always makes me scream your name, is thinking about riding you, Frankie. Climbing in your lap and just-“

Fuck, fuck he couldn’t hold back. He’d told you he couldn’t and yet you wouldn’t shut up and all thoughts of making love to you gently were out the fucking window, Frankie instead growled deeply and grabbed you by the arms, all but throwing you on the bed. You were smirking up at him, your eyes dark with lust and shining with triumph.

“Fuck, sweet girl, you wanna scream my name?” He removed his pants and briefs in one motion, his cock spring up, hard and leaking precum and you licked your lips, giving a little whimper at the sight of him. Frankie grasped himself, pumping his hand a few times as he stood over you, “Like what you see?”

“Jesus, Frankie-you need a new nickname,” You said, eyes glued to his cock, “Catfish makes no sense when you’re walking around with that fucking bat-wait!” He froze in the middle of removing his ball cap, looking at you with concern to see you bite your lip a little shyly, “Keep it on. The hat.”

Warmth spread through him at your request and Frankie replaced the hat on his head, then dropped to his knees next to the bed, his hands running up your thighs as you writhed. At your waist, he grasped the tops of your yoga pants and tugged them down, enjoying the way your body arched when you lifted your hips to help him. The only item of clothing either of you wore now was you in your bra, and fuck were you a sight.

Frankie gazed up at you from the floor in awe, his eyes roving over you hungrily as you watched him, propped up on your elbows. He started kissing up your thighs then, pushing your legs apart and spreading you, his hands kneading your flesh. “Sweet girl, you have such a pretty pussy, better than I imagined.” He moaned, biting into the soft flesh of your inner leg and drawing a whimper from you, “I can fucking smell you already, so wet and ready for me, fuck.”

“Oh god Frankie, please, touch me. I can’t wait anymore, I need you!”

“Told you,” Frankie climbed over top of you, his legs on either side of your body as he reached down and dragged you further onto the bed, his show of strength making you whimper, “It’s been a while. And you walk around here wearing my fucking clothes all the time. You don’t know what you do to me, Sunshine.” He grunted as he repositioned himself between your legs, his hands grasping the backs of them to haul your body against his, his cock pressed painfully against your thigh, “Gonna fuck you, sweet girl.” And with one careful, quick motion he thrust forward and each of you cried out at the pleasure of Frankie filling you.

“Frankie! Oh!” Your legs wrapped around him instantly, urging him as deep as possible as he split you open so deliciously. Once he was fully seated within you, Frankie dropped forward, propping himself on one arm, and cupped your face with his free hand. He looked into your eyes as he started a fast, hard pace, thrusting deep and reeling over how wet you were for him, how perfectly your velvet folds wrapped around him.

“Fuck, cariño, you’re fucking tight,” He grunted, kissing you sloppily as you threw your arms around him, hugging him close, “So tight for me, so perfect making those pretty noises, fuck.” Frankie groaned when you clenched around him as he spoke, “You like it when I tell you how perfect you are?”

“Ye-yeah Frankie, I love it. Oh, fuck!”

You were trembling now, squeezing him each time he whispered in your ear. Frankie kept up a string of praises and filthy words, taking note of the ones that had you gripping him extra hard.

He’d always had a casual enjoyment of dirty talk, nothing over the top, easy enough to shut off if it wasn’t enjoyed by the other person. But something about talking like this to you had his balls tightening that much faster, his thrusts becoming brutal.

Still murmuring in your ear, Frankie lowered his hand to your clit, experimentally rubbing, circling and pinching it to see what you liked. He was going to cum soon, and he’d be damned if you didn’t cum too. Though, as Frankie settled on circling you, both feeling and hearing how this was definitely how you liked it, his worries quickly dissipated when your hips were suddenly bucking up to meet his and you were screaming his name.

“That’s it, let go for me sweet girl,” Frankie’s thrusts were becoming increasingly sloppy as he neared the edge, “Are you-fuck, where should I?” He couldn’t even form a sentence now, he was so close and you were squeezing around him so perfectly as you closed in on your orgasm.

You understood though, your eyes meeting his as you pulled yourself together enough to reply, “Frankie, cum inside me please, please fill me up, pleasepleaseplease-“

“Fuck! H-here you go, perfect little thing!” He roared, dropping his weight over your and growling as he spilled inside you, as you bucked and writhed beneath him and screamed out, toppling over the edge and into oblivion with him. He heard himself cursing in Spanish as he experienced the most intense orgasm of his entire life, his hips slowing to continue to draw it out, still more cum filling you and you were a wreck under him, shivering and moaning.

“Yes, Frankie, yes.” You whimpered, your hands sliding into his hair-knocking his cap off-and tugging at his curls.

It took several minutes to recover, though Frankie had enough awareness to shift his weight so that you could breathe properly. Still hard inside you, he began to kiss you all over, peppering your face and neck before biting a few more marks into your neck, his tongue laving out to soothe. He enjoyed the way you whimpered when overstimulated, twitching when he pinched your nipple over your bra, squeaking his name when he pressed himself as deep inside you as he could one last time before pulling out.

Frankie collapsed on the bed next to you, then quickly tugged you into his arms and kissed the top of your head. His fear began to bubble back up now that the haze of passion was clearing, and he was starting to question every single moment that had occurred since you'd asked him if he was a tits man or an ass man.

What had he done? Was he going to lose you after this? Lose his entire reason for living for one amazing orgasm?

But it was like you could reach his mind, as only a few minutes had passed and then, with a little groan, you pulled yourself up so that you were on your elbow, looking down at Frankie. You took one look at his face and frowned, “That was quicker than I thought.”

Frankie stared at you, “What was?”

“I guessed it would take more than two minutes for you to start regretting this.”

Sighing, he pulled himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed. You followed, but crossed your legs and shuffled next to him. “I meant what I said, I love you,” Frankie explained, rubbing a hand over his face, “I love you so much, so fucking much it hurts. But the idea of messing this up is terrifying me, Sunshine. I don’t think I could lose you, I think it would kill me.”

“Frankie,” You crawled over him, straddling his hips and settling into his lap. You cupped his face firmly, looking into his eyes. Your expression was open, warm and vulnerable and a little incredulous, “You aren’t going to lose me, not ever. I want this-I want you, and everything you come with, okay?”

Though his heart was soaring, Frankie still worried, shaking his head, “I come with a lot of dark baggage, sweet girl. Not to mention the age difference.”

“Jesus, Frankie, do you really think I don’t know what I’m saying when I tell you I’m all in?” You asked him, not waiting for an answer before continuing. “I love you. Can I tell you when I knew?”

Frankie peered at you, his hands coming to hold your waist as he nodded.

“The boys trip.” You stated, using the term each of you agreed upon when referencing his three-week disappearance to Columbia. “When you first left, I knew something was off but I trust you, so I didn’t question it. But then after a few days, with no word from you, I started to really worry,” You paused, momentarily lost in thought, eyes dark now with the painful memory of his absence and the little information you’d come to learn about it since. “Did I ever tell you I booked a ticket to Columbia?”

This caught Frankie off guard because you most certainly had not told him that, “What, are you serious?”

“Yep. Booked it for the day after you ended up calling me. I don’t know what I was planning to do, but I knew you were there and, even if you were dead, I needed to be as well.” You stroked your thumbs over his cheeks, “After you called, and I knew you were alive and coming home, I realized that the way you said it meant you almost didn’t make it home, and I knew you weren’t saying something. I hung up and sat in my room for a minute and it occurred to me that you could have died and I would have never seen you again. That was when I knew it wasn’t just a crush.”

Heavy emotion filled his chest, rendering him unable to immediately respond. Frankie gathered you close and stood, clutching you against him and carrying you into the bathroom. He set you on the toilet before turning to his massive soaker tub and switching it on, fully intending on spending the rest of the night in there with you. When he turned around, you were carefully tidying yourself up. With a grunt, he grabbed a washcloth and ran it under warm water before kneeling in front of you and taking over.

“Why didn’t you say anything? After I came home, I mean.” His tone was light, as he didn’t mean to come across as accusing you of anything-it’s not like he had said anything to you. Good-natured as you were, you simply smiled at him, a little sadly.

“Too afraid, right at first,” You admitted, your eyes fluttering shut as he took care of you with the warm washcloth, “But when you came home you were a fucking wreck, Frankie. You lost your friend, Santi didn’t come back with you either, and Will and Benny had the same expression on their faces whenever I saw them. You saw some shit, did some shit, I don’t know and I’ll be real here, I don’t need you to ever feel like you should tell me what exactly happened. But after the first day you were back, I could see how much it changed you and I thought it would be selfish to tell you how I felt and add more emotional bullshit onto your plate.”

Frankie continued to kneel in front of you after tossing the washcloth into his laundry hamper. For a moment, the only sound in the room that of the tub filling. He stared into your eyes, seeing only how truthful you were being, how incredibly kind. He had never realized how completely he could love someone until he met you.

“I thought about you the entire time I was gone.” He admitted before carefully standing and checking the temperature of the water. He added a bath salt mixture that you’d bought a while ago, claiming it was a gift when really you were the one to use them, locking yourself away for hours to soak because you didn’t have a tub at your place. He shut the water off and held his arms out for you, which you eagerly stepped into and allowed him to guide you both into the water.

Once settled, your back against his chest, you replied. “Your face when you came home, I’ll never forget your expression.” His legs were on either side of you, and you began to lazily trace along his right thigh as both of you fell into your painful memories of his ill-fated trip.

Frankie sighed sadly, “I’m sorry I ever left, Sunshine. I never should have left you,” He tightened his grip around your waist under the water, one hand spread flat across your stomach, “It was just...fuck, everything went bad straight from the start. We had a moment of luck and then it was like nothing could go right. And I don’t know, I’m fucking gutted that Tom is gone, but it’s worse that Santiago won’t come home. He’s like my brother, and he blames himself for everything.”

Frankie knew you had no idea what he meant. You knew he and the guys were former special ops that served together, but when Santi had asked him to go to Columbia Frankie had only told you the basics-the country, who he would be with, that he might not have a lot of chances to call, and that it would be about a week. Santi had picked him up and you had been there to see him off that morning, and his friend had casually referenced a ‘boys trip’ while speaking with you as Frankie loaded his shit in the back.

Of course, you weren’t stupid. You worked with the VA, met a lot of former service members who ended up contracting out their skills after retiring or leaving due to injuries or lifestyle changes. And you knew Frankie, understood him like no one ever had before, which is why as he gave you further details you didn’t flinch or freeze up, you simply listened. When Frankie had gone quiet for a while, you eventually turned to gaze up at him over your shoulder, your cheek on his chest.

“From what I could tell,” You began slowly, your words cautious, “Whatever you did, what happened, you all put it aside to get Tom’s body home to his family. And considering the type of work Santi was doing out there for three years before he came here to ask you guys to join him, I figure you all must have almost died a few times each, probably took out some terrible men along the way.”

Frankie had to bite back his sob, turning his face away from you to stare, ashamed and remorseful at the wall. You reacted quickly, pulling yourself up and turning over, your naked body pressing over his as you grabbed Frankie’s head and gently turned him to look at you. “Baby,” You cooed, your eyes shining with concern, “Don’t do that, don’t hide from me.”

That was all it took. Frankie let the sob out and the relief of it was instantaneous, so much so that he let out another, then another, all while you held him and murmured soft, sweet words and pressing chaste kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, along his jaw. It didn’t last long, he’d cried so many times over everything that had gone down, but this was the first time you had revealed you sort of had an idea of what they had been up to, and you were still supporting him and loving him and it was all very overwhelming.

A short time later, Frankie wiped his eyes and shot you a grateful look, hoping you could sense how much he appreciated you. You settled into the water again, knees pulled to your chest as you faced him and trailed your hands comfortingly up and down his chest. “Sunshine,” He whispered, catching one hand and holding it against his heart, “I love you, thank you for being so fucking incredible.”

He tugged you closer, joining you in laughing when a little water sloshed up over the edge of the tub as you landed against him. You snuggled close and kissed him, your fingers carding into his curls and holding him steady. When Frankie took you to bed that night, there were no pillows between your bodies, not a shred of clothing separating you. He held you close, falling asleep faster than he had in years.

And for the first time in Frankie’s life, he felt whole and complete, like nothing could ever bring him into darkness again, not when he had you, literal sunshine, lighting his existence.

PART TWO

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@mermaidxatxheart @paintballkid711

[barzzal]

between halls and thin walls → part two

summary: friends who fool around almost never work. almost.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: swearing, sex toys, masturbation, sexual/suggestive themes, and yenno, mathew :(

↳ genre: angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+ minors dni*

↳ length: series; part one, part two (5.9k), part three, part four, part five, part six

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: listened to a lot of beyoncé for this one !!

note: part two’s here!! and i know it’s late for an update but i just wanna thank everyone for commenting on the first part 🥺 really glad that you guys liked it. reading your tags are everything to me it means a lot! happy reading <3 (gif used: mine)

You come out of your bedroom dressed and ready for work. Your handbag was slung over the depth of your forearm as you headed for the kitchen and the other, scrolling past emails on your phone, admittedly bracing yourself for the mess you know will eventually greet you.

To your surprise, what you see instead were Mat Barzal’s guns rippling through the jet black sweater he had worn last night. A memory that sent your mind to less than eight hours ago, before eventually landing on what happened shortly when the two of you had woken up.

“Thank god you haven’t burnt the house down.” you kid, placing your handbag atop the island.

Mat spares you a quick glance, rolling his eyes whilst he lets you watch him whisk some eggs for breakfast.

“Like it?” he cocks, pertaining to how your eyes were pinned hard on his biceps that he was, for the most part, effortlessly sporting. It’s true, though. He didn’t need to flex because it was just there.

“Coffee or Juice?” he asks, as the kind friend and roommate that he is. 

Anthony, as surprising as it was, takes incredibly long showers. If people hadn’t known him well, they’d easily think he’s abusing himself there. But you’ve got to admit that not having him around felt nice for you didn’t have to feel so seen with Mathew.

‘Course, there’s nothing more, like a fix-in on the side, to your set up. You just appreciate the feeling of not having to lie to Beau about all the ugly concealed underneath all the innocent gazes you and Mathew exchange.

“Coffee.” you answer shortly, realizing that you forgot the material you need for today’s meeting.

“Where are you going?” Mat asks when he catches you receding out into the hallway. You didn’t bother looking back, “Forgot something!”

He gets back to whisking the eggs when a chime comes off his phone. He takes it from the counter, placed just before the plates he left to dry last night, absent-mindedly putting the bowl he was holding onto the island, toppling over the green juice he has prepared for himself. 

“Shit.” he curses as soon as he sees it for it was already spilling all over the place, making the mess you’ve been secretly anticipating the moment Mathew said he’d make breakfast.

Panicking at how you’d see he’s successfully screwed such a no-brainer task, Mat grabs the first thing he sees on the marbled surface and uses it to clean the mess he’d made.

“Huh.” he muses to himself, realizing that the silk fabric didn’t do much in helping him clean up. He tosses it over the sink carelessly and grabs a few napkin rolls from one of the cupboards. 

So much for making an effort to feed Anthony Beauvillier. 

“Now, that was fast.” you say with a smirk once you’ve entered the kitchen, startling Mathew as he continued cleaning up after his mess. 

“Ha-ha. Very funny.” he sarcastically laughs, discarding the paper towels onto the sink along with the used ones. 

Thankfully, your stuff was at the other side of the island so it was very much safe from all the chaos happening at the other end of the marbled surface. However, your laugh dies down the second you realize that your handkerchief was no longer where you’ve last put it.

“Hey,” you call on Mathew, “What’s up?”

“Have you seen my handkerchief? I know I left it somewhere.” you anxiously ask, eyeing every corner of the room hoping to see Nana’s handkerchief, the one she gave to you on your 18th birthday.

“What does it look like?” Mat asks, now holding a pan in his hand as he prepares breakfast.

You proceeded to describe your grandma’s handkerchief in the most specific and perhaps excruciating detail Mathew has ever heard someone talk about something as mind-numbing as a handkerchief.

Despite that, Mat lights up the moment it hits him, not realizing the bigger mess he’s about to walk into. He rejoices at how he knew exactly what you were looking for, “Oh! You mean this?” 

With clueless eyes, you watch Mat go over the sink after he wipes his hands dry, fishing out an all too familiar fabric from the sink. Once your eyes land onto the cream colored silk handkerchief, with details carefully sewn by hand, drenching in what seems to be Mat’s morning drink, your heart falls to the pit of your stomach. 

“What did you do??” The sudden rise in your voice startles an unsuspecting Mathew. You eagerly went over to his side and hastily snatched the smooth fabric off his hands, “It’s ruined!”

“What? I didn’t know it was yours!” Mat’s eyes are wild with confusion. Puzzled at how you were so fixated on the useless fabric. It didn’t help him anyway. There’s nothing much left to do but to throw it. It’s garbage. 

“You ruined it!” you lash out, letting Mat get eaten up by the sudden anger bubbling inside your guts but he was rather quick in defending himself, “I didn’t know it was yours since I grabbed the first thing I could find. Why are you getting upset over a shit-ass handkerchief?” 

Your mouth falls and you shake your head, finding his defensiveness quite appalling. “You’re an ass.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was yours.” he explains, “Come on, it’s just a stupid handkerchief I’ll just buy you a new one.” he tries to laugh the tension off, sporting his signature grin.

Mat take shots of the stunned expression on your face, “Stupid?” you repeat what he said, your eyes already starting to sting with tears. Clearly, you were far too overwhelmed to even acknowledge Mathew’s half-assed apology.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” your words bite and that’s when things took a turn for the worse. 

“I said I was fucking sorry! What the hell do you want from me? Shit a fucking hanky?” he rans a hand through his hair, “Do you realize how childish you’re being right now?”

Outraged, and perhaps disappointed by how he was too high up his horse, your voice takes up a higher tone, entering what seems to be an early screaming match between you and Mathew.

“Could you just–” you breathe, “for one second– stop being so goddamn stupid and get over yourself!?” were words that welcomed Anthony the moment he stepped into the kitchen, towel wrapped around his waist, a grin on his face visible as he poured himself a glass of water, inviting himself in the screaming match you and Mathew have exclusively put forth for him.

“Stupid is not when you’ve already apologized a hundred times! Stupid is being such a crybaby and a bitch about it!” Mathew retorts, gaining his better end of the argument.

“What a beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Anthony chimes in, a hand resting on his chin, adoring his two best friends upon getting used to the best worst duo he’s ever known in his life. 

“Shut up, Beau.” you say, throwing him a glare.

“Well, beautiful is definitely not in Y/N’s dictionary.” Mathew chides with a smirk, enough to earn himself a scoff from you. 

“You know what? I don’t have the time for this bullshit.” you cuss, finally retreating, your already heavy heart taking a better hold on your thoughts, blocking your ability to even come up with a clever remark to come back at Mathew.

You throw the delicate, yet already ruined piece of fabric towards his way as hard as you could before marching out of the kitchen and head off for work.

“Fucking unbelievable.” Mathew curses under his breath once he catches the silk linen, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to the morning task at hand. 

You were fucking unbelievable.

Once the boys were left alone, Tito raises a brow, briefly looking back after your footsteps, “What happened here, anyway?” he asks, having realized what must’ve caused such a heated argument so early in the morning. 

“I used this handkerchief to wipe the whole thing off and she just went ape shit! I mean–” Anthony cuts Mathew the moment he recognizes the thin cloth he was holding.

“Woah, woah. Wait a minute, you used this?” he muses, stressing on the possibility of what might have been Mathew’s biggest mistake of the day, his eyes darting between him and the fabric.

With furrowed brows, admittedly weirded by how Anthony reacted almost the same way you did a while ago. “It’s just a handkerchief, man. I can go buy her a bunch if that’s what she wants.” he says defensively.

Anthony shakes his head wildly, his irises now dilated as he examined the stain already sitting on the material. “No no. Oh god no.” He says, snatching Mathew’s phone from the counter to google quick remedies that might remove the said stain from the already ruined cloth. 

“What do you mean no? You guys spend way too much time together, you’re beginning to be as weird as her.” He scoffs, sipping on a glass of water. 

“No, you dumbass. This was her grandma’s!” Anthony says, eyes fixated on the delicate handkerchief. Remembering how you’d told him how long it has been in your family that having Nana give it to you after all the years you’ve spent admiring it from afar meant so much to you than anything anyone could have possibly given you.

“So?” Mat casually replies, closing his arms to his chest before adding, “Is she dead or something? Didn’t you guys visit her for the Holidays?” 

“What?? Why would you even say that?– You’re such a jerk.” Tito shakes his head, appalled by how Mathew easily shrugged the matter off when he knew full well how sentimental he himself could be.

“Well, how am I supposed to know?? If that thing’s so important I wouldn’t leave it on top of some random shit lying around!” He counters, defending himself for reaching for the nearest cloth he could find when he did whatever he does best when he’s in the kitchen.

Tito clicks his tongue and looks at Mathew exasperatedly, “Tell me, where did you find this exactly?”, to which Mathew only answered with a quiet voice, “It may or may not have been placed on top of her purse…” he avoids Tito’s gaze, finally catching on how he was the one in the wrong. 

“See? Jerk. Now, go figure out how you’ll take the stain off.” Anthony demands, his voice embraced by a definitive tone. One that made Mathew know he wouldn’t be able to persuade him into letting this go. 

Tito takes one good look at Mat’s catastrophic attempt to feed the house, striding his way out of the kitchen, “And make sure you apologize!” he adds, footsteps receding into the hallway, leaving Mathew scratching the back of his head out of guilt and frustration.

You have spent the following days either avoiding Mathew or ignoring his existence completely. Anthony talked to you the night that incident happened and assured you that he would do his best to have it fixed. You didn’t want to bother him nor take time off his already busy schedule, but you were just so bummed to even say a word.

That night, you spent the entire evening in your room, facetiming your mother, saying how much you’re missing home. You can’t bring yourself to tell her about the handkerchief. For some people, and that people being Mathew, it might’ve been just some silly thing but Tito knew how much that small piece of cloth meant to you. 

Mathew, on the one hand, was for sure guilty to his bones. He didn’t see you that night nor the nights that followed. He didn’t think much of it but when he found himself searching for that same handkerchief in the hopes of replacing it only to find out that it was nowhere to be found in the market, was when he did realize that ruining the one thing that held you closer to home was the last push your non-existent relationship with him had to have for you to finally lose any ounce of amour nor civility you once had for him. 

Anthony wasn’t a stranger for said changes either. He began waking up to a still apartment enveloped by a wall you profusely built between you and Mathew. You even unknowingly shut Tito out in the process as well. It was like you were grieving. Like, it was a whole different kind of heartbreak he knew he can’t get you out of that easily. 

You tried making it up for your best friend of course. Knowing that you haven’t been yourself since that day. You thought about the possibility of having taken the whole thing too seriously that you might’ve overreacted a bit. Nonetheless, no matter how much you try to push it in the back of your head, Mathew’s mere presence began irking you in ways it never did back when you used to enjoy the bickering you exchange with him, especially in bed.

“Thanks for dinner, belle.” Anthony politely says, earning a smile from you so effortlessly upon hearing the pet name he uses for you. Something Mat only shrugged off, trying to piece out the same gratitude, “Thanks, y/n.” he genuinely adds. But as expected, he had nothing.

You pick up all the empty plates, including Mathew’s, who was sitting in front of you while Anthony sat at the end of the table. Tito hurriedly wipes his mouth with a napkin and takes the plate from you, “Let me help you with that.” he says with the same kind eyes that has never failed to win you over. 

“Yeah. Okay, sure.” you shortly answer, leading the way towards the kitchen, leaving one Mathew Barzal feeling small and alone at the dining table. 

𖥸

If there was one thing you’d gladly acknowledge after all the years of watching people kiss Mathew’s ass was that he was is really good. He’s fast and he can do unimaginable damage on the ice. There’s no denying that he deserves to be the face of the New York Islanders. But we know you don’t care about any of that. The only thing you care about was how unbelievably good he is at everything he does that not even you or your pink rubber toy could suffice. 

He was just that damn good. 

As your eyes shut whilst you mount your pleasures on your own, biting your lips to choke in your own moans, Mathew handling you was what circled your mind since you started defiling yourself in the bathroom. You let your arousal be washed away by the warm water trickling down your skin, envisioning Mat’s rough hands grazing your body, touching your core like his hands were meant to do nothing else but that. 

It was wrong and pathetic, but you couldn’t think about anything else. You and Mathew have been avoiding each other for days. The dynamic went so much worse than when you weren’t sleeping together and you know that Tito was bound to notice it soon. Thankfully, the boys were on another roadie for a week so you had quite some time to think things through about your current sitch with Mathew. You didn’t like any of it because it felt like you gave a fuck (which obviously, you didn’t). You just feel obligated to sort things out with the biggest ass that ever lived because you didn’t want to involve Tito into the mess you’ve wrongfully made yourself. 

You hop off the shower feeling unsatisfied. You haven’t gotten laid since the last time you were with Mat. Which is sad, not just for you but also for her. You’d think considering the boys aren’t around you’d bring someone home, maybe even one or two. But just thinking about going on bars alone so you could find a potential bone-mate is already far too tedious and you weren’t in the right state to do so. You had so much going on at work, anyway. And you can always use a wand to scratch an itch. Neither would satisfy you more than how someone-who-will-not-be-named could, but you might as well be pathetic without having to hook up with some random dude whose name you’ll eventually forget in the morning. 

You opted to wear an old pull-over you borrowed (took) from Tito years and years ago and partnered it with some leggings so you’d be comfortable enough for the rest of the night. You have nothing else to do and you are already fed up with your workload that watching a crappy movie off of Netflix doesn’t sound like a bad idea. 

With a giant bowl of popcorn and two bottles of beer in your hands, you march your way into the living room, ready to spend the night binge watching romantic comedies, crying and laughing in between. Or maybe just fall asleep on the couch while your comfort TV series is on. 

The boys won three games out of the four that they had during the trip and you only saw the ones they won so you were thankful that you didn’t have to sit at home alone watching their faces fall after that OT lost against the Flyers. Anthony phoned you that night and you can just feel the relief in his voice that you didn’t have the time to see it. They weren’t playing like they should. Thankfully, they were able to bounce back. 

Your eyes were beginning to grow tired halfway into the movie when you hear the front door open, followed by luggages dragged into the house tirelessly. 

“Y/N?” Anthony calls out.

You hit the movie on pause and hurriedly make your way towards the hallway. “You’re home already?”

They were already taking their coats off when you met them halfway, Tito was putting his away while Mat had just taken off his toque and was running his hands through his hair, unconsciously meeting your eyes upon hearing your voice. 

You quickly break it off when you give Tito a quick embrace and plant a small kiss on his cheeks, “I texted you.” he says, eyebrows quirked, surprised that you didn’t know. 

In an effort to avert any more of his questions you immediately point towards the movie you had on, “Haven’t checked my messages, sorry.” 

“So, you guys ate dinner?” you ask, passing Mat a quick look. One that came as a surprise because he wasn’t even hoping to hear a word from you given the way you two left things a little too on the edge, screwing with the whole thing even more. 

Mat avoids your irises and faintly nods. 

“Big win tonight huh? Told you, you can do it.” you say with a beaming smile, nudging Tito with your hips as you get back to watching your film. “You gotta do what you gotta do, babe.” he winks, lugging his stuff around towards his bedroom. 

“Barz, don’t stay up, Trotz needs us first thing in the morning.” he looks back, reminding Mat who was already standing in front of his door, “Yeah. Sure.” he replies shortly with a tired voice. 

You and Anthony bid your own goodnights whilst Mat mutters a quiet “Night.” when you nodded his way, clearly not enjoying any of the first awkward encounters he’s yet to have with you. Seven days is quite a reasonable time for your anger to dissipate, a short yet seemingly long period of time that’s just enough to kill off whatever guilt Mat had initially felt before you parted ways.

𖥸

“Alright, I’m off.” Tito casually declares, putting on his watch. “There’s food in the fridge, and tell Mat to go easy on my beers.” he gives you a knowing look as he bends down to give you a kiss on the cheek. 

Tito had been seeing some mystery girl for quite some time now. He hasn’t told you anything spicy in particular but by the looks of it, you could already tell that she has him towed. 

“Good luck, loverboy.” you say, swatting his hand away and pushing him out to the door. The two of you cringe at what you said, sharing one last laugh before you watch him disappear out into the hallway.

The apartment was cramped the whole day because Anthony and Mat had the day off. Tito had plans for the night, obviously. As per you, you had plans lounging in the living room, switching through channels in the hopes of stumbling on a show that isn’t half as bad than the rest. 

Thankfully, a Sandra Bullock film was on HBO.

The Proposal, to be exact.

You decide to dive in the film with a cold bottle of beer on your hand. There was no way you’d be washing down the effects of a naked Ryan Reynolds with a glass of water. You haven’t gone mad. 

The film was already at the part where Sandra was proposing to Ryan when you hear Mathew’s door open. You haven’t talked since the night they came back home other than the small nods you exchange upon passing by each other. All of which are mind-numbing and impossible to swallow. The awkwardness has not dissipated completely unlike what you presumed. You were just grateful Tito was always around that you didn’t need to be alone together. 

Alarmed by another impending awkward encounter, you clear your throat and turn up the volume a little to remain focused on the film, investing your sole attention to it even if you have seen the movie countless times. 

Mathew, in his sweats and a gray shirt on, carefully makes his way out the hallway and into the common area after snatching a glass of water from the kitchen. You see him move further into the room but you make sure that he knows you weren’t paying attention. You take that he must’ve been thirsty and needed a drink but you don’t see him move further in the corner of your eye like he was making his way back in his room. It almost seemed like he was actually waiting for you to look his way.

Hesitantly, you follow your gut feel and see him standing a few feet away from you. “Yes?” you ask when you catch him staring. 

Mat blinks a few times, “Hi.” he takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the awkwardness circling the two of you.

When the only thing he gets from you is a tight lipped smile, he shakes his head and proceeds to walk where you were seated. 

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, his voice deep and clear enough to send your mind elsewhere. 

Regardless, you contain yourself and return a polite smile, “No. Not at all.”

“So, what are we watching?” he sits once you gestured onto the other end of the couch. 

“The Proposal.” you answer before throwing a question yourself, “Aren’t you supposed to be resting now?” you shake your head, absentmindedly chuckling. Not intending to make him feel that you’ve forgotten about what he’d done weeks ago. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” he props his back and lets himself sink in the cloud couch, his legs spread wide eating up most of the space left for the two of you to share. “Oh. I only like him when he’s Deadpool” he points out, cringing at how you were watching another one of your romantic comedy films.

You roll your eyes, admiring how he’s trying to break the tension between the two of you despite his unsolicited sentiments, “I like it when we were on not-speaking terms.” 

Mat mocks you for a while but decides to watch the movie so you let him be and get back to the film, letting a giggle slip every now and then. Something you thought Mat wouldn’t notice.

Watching the remainder of the film went with ease. ‘Course, Mat would steal a few glances here and there (ones he thought had gone unnoticed), but overall the quietude between the two of you was bearable. Almost like it was just two buddies hanging out. 

Although, not long after, your eyes were torn away from the huge flat screen when Mat spoke, “By the way,” he looks at you and calls your attention. 

Puzzled, you watch him take something from his pocket, “Here.” 

Once you see what he has in his hands your heart froze. Mat carefully hands you the cloth with an apologetic smile; his eyes soft with a hint of hope as he watches your reaction. 

“What– How?” you ask in bewilderment, failing to comprehend how he was able to fix the handkerchief. It looked the same as before. All of its details were in place, it was good as new. You were holding Nana’s handkerchief. 

Mathew didn’t bother to dance around and just offered you a quiet chuckle, evidently enjoying the wide smile painted on your lips. “Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.” he apologizes, shielding you from all the strings he had to pull just to get that cloth fixed up.

You hold the smooth and delicate piece in your hands as you look at Mat, letting your feelings get a better hold of you, “Thank you.” you say, unknowingly reaching out, your arms wrapped around his neck as you give him a quick peck on the cheek. 

Mathew’s hand instinctively finds your back to support you, startling himself in the process. Nonetheless, the thought was easily shrugged off by how close your faces were, your smiles fading once you meet each other’s gaze. You feel the same rush you felt the night you and Mat got involved for the first time. Your hand was placed rather endearingly on his cheek, your faces, just like all the other times, unreasonably close to each other. Mat then clears his throat and only looks you in the eye. 

Afraid that the innocent hug would lead to something more, perhaps another mistake to be jotted down on the board, you breathe a laugh and break away, “Uh, thanks again. It really means a lot.” 

Mat must’ve sensed that you were being cautious so he puts his guards up and returns a chuckle, “So… we good?” he asks, reaching out a hand your way. 

Your fingers slide into his, gliding its way perfectly, your hands fitted well with his despite the obvious difference in proportion. His grip tightens in the most comfortable way possible. 

A smile breaks off his lips once he hears you answer, “We’re good.”

“I should probably get some sleep.” Mat tells you the moment you pull your hand away.

“Are you gonna be okay here?” he adds.

You looked at him, not wanting him to be obligated to keep you company, “Oh, yeah. I’m a big girl.” you say, making Mathew grin, shaking his head.

“Alright. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

Not picking up on whatever sloppy insinuation Mat has thrown out carelessly into thin air, he hears a simple “Mkay.” 

Thus far, letting him know that his subtle invitation was far from being RSVP’d.

𖥸

“You’ll be in your room?” Mat scoffs, staring at the ceiling while he lays on his bed, “The fuck was that, Mat?” he scolds himself for always coming up with the worst things to say. 

Mathew would be lying if he’d say he hasn’t thought about you (or doing you) for the past week of not being around home. But he definitely wouldn’t deny that the roadie kind of made things easier for him because then he didn’t have to stomach seeing you walk around the flat looking like the hot piece of ass that you were in his eyes. 

Mat knows he needs to pull his shit together. He wasn’t some 13 year-old boy raging with hormones. He needs to control himself around you and he could only do that once he learns how to push this whole thing between the two of you behind him. 

What happened with you and Mathew shouldn’t have happened at all. It was just a moment of weakness, and he hated that he’d let his dick (and apparently, him being one) ruin the relationship he once had with you. 

Before that night, seeing you do yoga and work out on the terrace was just seeing you drenched in sweat, and in your work out clothes looking icky and constipated. Something he’ll later on tease you about and he’ll end up catching the water bottle you throw in his face. But now, after all that fucking, seeing you sweaty and all worked out in the same yoga pants is just like walking into a porn commercial. Like the ones they show before the actual porn. In fact, he doesn’t even have to watch any of it. Tents and Boners were pretty much sponsored by you from then on. It’s sick, and he knows it. 

However, the tension he feels with you is palpable that he’s even certain that you feel it too. But how can he be wrong? He sees how your eyes blink a few times when he’s fresh out the shower, he sees you follow his trance when you thought he wasn’t paying attention, and you never fail to slide him shadowed hints with every touch you “accidentally” pass at him. The kind that’s short enough to remain innocent but not so much as to keep him at bay. Mat hated everything about it. He hated that he wanted you– and he hated that he thinks he might be right about you wanting him too.

All that self-loathing aside, did he regret it? 

That was one of the things he feels bad about. Because as much as he wants to lie and push it aside, he didn’t regret any of it. He didn’t like you that way and just thought about you sexually but he just wishes that you could push past this and just be friends. He was still sexually attracted to you, yes. But he knows he’d eventually get over it and be back on his game. That is if he can ever find someone who’d be as good as how you were the last three times you’ve let him be with you because it would really help him a lot if he could stop picturing your mouth getting stretched by his cock every time he hops into the shower.

Mat was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a knock on his door. The shy banging sound made his heart beat rapidly in an instant, knowing full well that the two of you were alone in the house and that Tito was, in no way, going to be home for another hour or two.

A faint knock follows the first one before he gets to the door. 

“Hi.” you greet him, a moment unfolding like it was déjà-vu.

“Hi.” 

“Did I wake you?” you sheepishly ask, your hands balled into fists before eventually settling down to hug your own build, unsure of where to put your hands exactly.

Mat quickly shakes his head, “No. I couldn’t sleep myself.”

You offer him a smile, acknowledging how he’s been nothing but good to you ever since they got home. Of course you wanted to get your hands on him being that you were completely dry and horny ever since you’ve ignored him completely, but you haven’t gone mad and you weren’t a complete neanderthal. You can keep your hands to yourself and act like a decent human being. 

“I’m sorry for making things weird between us.” you say, your eyes heavy with guilt. “But I’m only apologizing for being so unreasonable for the last couple of weeks.” you reiterated.

To which he only answers with, “You shouldn’t be. You have every right to be unreasonable– and I know that I’ve been a giant prick that day. It’s what I deserve.” he bites his lower lip, scratching his brow as he continues, “That’s why if there’s someone who owes someone an apology, it should be me. What I did was pretty crappy, so… I’m sorry.”

Like all the other times, Mathew towers over you wearing the same confidence he does when you’re around. Your bodies were reasonably apart from each other but close enough to mean something else if someone had walked by. Mathew was still in his room while you were out in the hallway, separated by the thin line made by the door frame. 

You feel Mat’s steady breathing and everything went still. He looks down at you, pretty eyes drowning yours. His messed up bed hair ridiculously makes up for how dressed down he was. No, actually, he looks fine even when he is. And all of that sight instantly makes your throat dry as you feel something curl in your belly, enough to make your hands sweaty as the thought of tasting his lips again cruised your mind entirely.

Mathew was no stranger to the said feeling either. He watched you punish him more at how plump and inviting your lips were. Or how your hand brushed on your clothes as you remain uncomposed under his gaze. 

Mat was becoming accustomed to how the two of you meet. Same time, same place, only this time, a different hallway. He steps further and crosses the line that divides the two of you, making you take a deep breath as his scent floors every nerve in your body. Waking what has been awake ever since that moment you shared back in the living room even more. 

“Yeah, okay.” you gather yourself, “I– I should probably head back.” 

Just by how his shoulders dropped, you knew you had said the wrong thing. And you hated that you did. Mat clears his voice and swallows, breaking off his gaze, “You probably should.” 

“Good night, Mat.” you smile, trying to regain yourself. 

“Good night.” he replies as he watches you turn your back before finally closing the door behind him. 

Frustrated for he was already starting to feel things more than just being “sorry”, Mat leans against the door and runs a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath and tries to get you out of his head. 

He was about to walk away from the door and sleep off his frustration when he hears your faint footsteps on the other side of the door. He rests his head back on the wooden surface and sighs, “You’re still out there, aren’t you?”

There was a total silence for a moment, devoid of the knowledge of how you had your fist, ready to knock yet again, suspended in mid-air. 

Mathew hears you deny sheepishly, “No.” 

You hear him let out a small laugh, knowing that he was trying to contain himself. 

The door sprung open again, and for a second you thought how what you’re about to walk into will start another mess for you and Mathew. But how could you possibly think about it that way when you have nothing else but this man standing at the other end? 

A friend that took no seconds to waste as he finally lets his thirst and perhaps foolishness, get the better hold of him once he cages your heated face in his hands, crashing into your lips as fast as he’d taken you to his end of that thin gray line that has once irkingly parted him from you. A gray line you’re both willing to cross if that meant sharing another night in between halls and thin walls.

[jamielea81]

Conversations

Bonus Chapter: Colorado

Description: Takes place a year and a half after the first bonus chapter Back to the Beginning. The reader and Chris are married with life changes ahead. Original description for the series Conversations: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader, Scott Evans

Warning: Slightly NSFW (18+ only!), cursing, talk of pregnancy, fluff, Grumpy and Sassy shenanigans. 

A/N: Look who finally wrote a bonus chapter for Conversations! This girl, right here! Just a little timestamp in the reader and Chris’ life. And of course we needed some Scott time. You do not have to read the series to read this one shot, but it doesn’t hurt. Reblogs, comments, asks, what have you, I enjoy. 

Italics are internal thoughts

**

“Honestly, love, it’s fine,” you spoke softly into the phone, trying your best to keep your voice even. The last thing you want is for him to feel worse than he already does.

“I don’t know…” Chris trailed off. “Usually, when women say the word fine, they really don’t mean, fine.”

“Such a guy,” you chuckle. “I promise, Scott and I are going to have a terrific time. He’s taking care of me and promised not to get us into any trouble.” You raise an eyebrow at your travel companion seated next to you in the hired car.

Chris laughed and then followed it up with a groan. “That does not make me feel better. Put me on speaker.”

You rolled your eyes but did as he asked or rather demanded. “Okay, you’re on speaker.”

“Scott, you better take care of my wife. She’s precious cargo. And she’s carrying precious cargo. So, it’s extra precious cargo.”

You laughed; hand automatically going to your stomach. You were four months along and just starting to show. Family and close friends knew the two of you were expecting your first child, but the tabloids had not caught wind. The two of you had been going back and forth on whether to let People Magazine do an exclusive cover shoot when baby Evans is born. The money earned from People would be donated to charity which was the only reason you were even considering it. Plus, the whole you two breaking the news rather than the public finding out when you weren’t ready. Chris wanted to be the one to introduce his child to the world rather than having paparazzi sneaking into your backyard to get a picture. You couldn’t argue with him there.

“Would you relax! You’re going to give yourself a coronary and then I’d have to take care of both precious cargos and you don’t want that.” Scott shouted.

I really hope the driver doesn’t recognize Scott.

You smacked his arm, taking the call off speaker and bringing it back to your ear. “Chris, we are both going to be just fine. The plane ride was as relaxing as any plane ride can be and we are almost to the hotel. Scott and I are going to pamper ourselves and eat lots of great food. Work is important and I completely understand.”

Chris got called back to Los Angeles for reshoots that he couldn’t get out of. He planned a couple of mini babymoons and this was going to be the first one. Because of your advanced age – insert eyeroll – your doctor had mentioned it may not be safe to travel a lot once you were six months along. Chris took this seriously and booked a trip to Colorado at a gorgeous snowy mountain resort. There wouldn’t be any skiing, just loads of alone time and cuddling by the fireplace. When Chris had to cancel, Scott stepped in and volunteered the cuddles.

“This is one of the many reasons I love you. I’m just disappointed our romantic getaway is now being shared with Scott. My brother,” he said, voice in mock disgust.

“It’s fine. Scott and I haven’t hung out just the two of us in forever.” Scott reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Alright, sweetheart. Have a great time and rest please.”

“You know I will. I love you, babe. Say hi to Pedro for me,” you said, smile evident in your voice.

“I will. Love you too.”

**

“Mr. and Mrs. Evans?” The check in clerk, Barbara according to her nametag asked.

“That’s right,” Scott chimed in, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Newlyweds.”

You forced a smile and bit the inside of your cheek so that you wouldn’t laugh.

“Congratulations!” she replied with a sweet smile on her face.

She tapped her chin with her index finger before going back to her keyboard. “Let’s see what I can do here,” Barbara replied, typing away on the computer in front of her. “We have you in a one-bedroom suite with a mountain view, but,” she paused for dramatic effect. “I’m moving the two of you to one of our honeymoon suites.”

Scott gasped and slapped his hand on the countertop. “That’s mighty nice of you,” he spoke in a fake southern accent.

Where did that come from?

“Me and the misses really appreciate it. Don’t we honey?” he asked, turning his attention back to you.

“My pleasure,” Barbara said before you could reply, laying two room keycards on the counter next to Scott’s hand.

You smiled brightly but kept your mouth closed, so afraid of letting a chuckle out or saying the wrong thing. Scott steered you away from the counter, placing a hand on your bottom.

Once you turned the corner to the bank of elevators, you yanked Scott’s hand off your behind.

“Newlyweds. Really?”

“It got us an upgrade, didn’t it dear?”

**

The first night you were fine. Scott kept you occupied with stories of the single life and the wonders of online dating. You weren’t sure how he did it. Or rather, how he didn’t. After he told you about the guy who wore Barney the dinosaur underwear in a child’s size husky, you laughed until you cried.

“But did you still sleep with him?” you asked wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“Sassy! Of course not. Barneeeeyyyy,” he drawled out.

Shrugging your shoulders, you got up to grab yourself a tissue from the bathroom. Coming back in the room, Scott was on his phone, fingers swiping feverously. You plopped down on the couch, tucking one leg under yourself.

“Here,” Scott said, handing you his phone. On screen was what you would refer to as tall, dark, and handsome.

“He’s hot,” you said, passing the phone back to him.

“Barney.”

“No,” you gasped.

Scott sighed before he started to laugh which got you going once again.

**

The second day you weren’t so fine. The two of you ordered breakfast in the suite. Pancakes dripping with syrup, crispy thick cut bacon, sausage links, a bowl of mixed fruit, and decaf coffee because Scott was in solidarity with you on your caffeine hiatus.

“Let’s go for a walk. There are tons of trails that the resort clears of snow. I need to work off this breakfast,” Scott said patting his stomach.

“You and me both,” you said, getting up to put on actual clothes instead of the pajamas you were still wearing.

“You are so lucky. Get to eat whatever you want and can just blame it on the baby.”

Stopping in your tracks, you turned around to face him, lower lip slightly wobbling. Since the minute you found out you were pregnant, you found it really hard to control your emotions. You knew Scott didn’t mean anything by the commit, but your brain couldn’t help itself.

“I have to work really hard to be healthy. It’s bad enough the doctor said I’m old.” A sob escapes your lips. The tears already starting to roll down your cheeks. “I can’t have any caffeine, can’t eat a lot of my favorite foods, have to cut back on my salt. My salt! You know fries are my jam. Doesn’t help that my husband is built like a fucking Greek God. I’m not a model or an actress. I already feel like Dodger’s poo compared to him.”

Scott was out of his seat before you could utter another word. Strong arm pulling you to his chest while one hand cradled your head.

“Stop that. You are fucking beautiful and frankly my bonehead brother is lucky you agreed to marry him. Do you even know how many times I have had to leave the room in the last two months when he starts talking about you growing his child inside you and that it turns him on?” Scott pulls away slightly an emulates puking.

“Stop,” you said, burying your head in his neck.

“Why is my neck wet, Sassy.”

“It’s snot,” you said with a chuckle, wrapping your arm around him and holding on tight.

“You two are meant for each other.”

After a minute he pulled away and grasped both of your hands. “I’m with you in any way you need. If you need a healthy eating buddy, I am your man. If you want to say ‘to hell with it’, I’ll pick up McDonalds for the two of us every day if you like.”

You wiped at your eyes and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I love you Grumpy.”

“Love you too,” he replied and then clapped his hands together. “So, are we napping or are we walking?”

“Walking,” you stated, making your way into the bedroom to finally get changed.

That evening, the two of you got dressed up and went to your dinner reservation at the hotel where you were addressed as Mr. and Mrs. Evans. Scott stuck to sparkling water even though you encouraged him to get an alcoholic beverage.

“I don’t need to drink to be the life of the party. You know that.”

He wasn’t wrong. He’d kept you entertained even without the raspberry liquor he force fed you years ago.

“I think we need a dance party when we get back to the room. For old time sakes. Before I am too big to shake it.”

“Done and done.”

The night ended in a bubble bath with both you and Scott in your swimsuits in an oversized soaking tub. Dozens of pictures were taken with many going to your husband. Rather than a text in return, he called.

“What is this? My brother movin’ in on my wife?”

“Babe! You know that it was me and Scott from the start,” you teased.

Chris chuckled. “You go away for a couple of days and it’s like that.”

“You know you are my one and only. Scott’s just making me smile.”

“I know baby. I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you said.

**

The next day you were weepy. As much as you tried to put on a happy face, you were missing Chris. Pregnancy hormones or not, Chris had been working a lot and you had barely seen each other. This romantic babymoon wasn’t what you had in mind. Yes, spending it with your best friend was great, but it wasn’t the same.

The fire place was roaring while Magic Mike was queued up on the flat screen. You and Scott were dressed in jeans and cable knit sweaters with fuzzy socks on your feet. The snow was coming down heavy which was fine with you since neither of you had any place to be.

Pop in hand, though you wouldn’t let Scott hear you call soda that, diet for you, regular for him, the only thing you were needing was Dodger’s wet nose on your stomach and Chris.

“You know, Chris can do that,” you said pointing at the screen where one of the dancers picked up an audience member like she weighed a pound.

“No. Stop. Do not ruin this movie for me. I do not need to picture what you and my brother do.”

“Scott, you do know where babies come from, right?”

“Gross.”

You chuckled, standing up to excuse yourself to the bathroom. Why you brought up Chris when you already cried twice this morning was beyond you. After using the bathroom, you cleaned up your face and stepped back into the living room of your suite.

Scott draped himself over the couch, phone in hand, eyes shifting between the screen of his phone and the TV.

“I think I’m going to take another bath. Need to relax a little bit.”

Scott looked up. “Not too hot.”

“Yes, dad,” you said, offering him a mock salute.

You kept the bath water warm, but added extra oils and bubbles to make it feel more luxurious. The lights were off but a few candles were lit and your phone played 90s R&B. You snapped a pic of your soapy legs and sent it to Chris. Within a few minutes you had a reply.

Chris: My brother better not be in there

Y/N: I’m all alone

Chris: We can’t have that

You heard the door open and you scolded yourself for not locking the door. This text conversation seemed to be heading into rated R territory. You did not need Scott to witness that.

“Scott,” you drawled out. “I’m not wearing my suit tonight. Get out of here.”

When you heard the distinct sound of a belt buckle, you turned around. Rather than Scott dropping his pants, it was Chris.

You gasped, mouth hanging open.

“Room for one more sweetheart?”

You nodded your head unable to form words but those tears had no trouble forming.

Chris continued to undress while you tried your best to compose yourself. He joined you a moment later slipping in behind you.

“How? I thought you were working.”

“I put in some long hours so that I could get to you. I was miserable without you.”

“I know that feeling,” you replied, leaning your head against his chest. Chris lightly rubbing your stomach before sliding his hands up to your breasts, fingers tips rubbing against your nipples. “Babe, did you lock the door?” you asked.

“Don’t worry, I got Scott another room.”

You reached your left hand behind you grabbing on to Chris’ head bringing his mouth to yours. Chris kissed you deeply, your back automatically arching at the taste of his tongue.

“Was he mad?” you asked.

“I don’t even care,” he replied, rubbing his nose against yours.

“Neither do I.”

Tagging: @tanelle83 @pinknerdpanda @allaboutthebooz @estillion14 @panicfob @patzammit @xoxabs88xox @heartislubbingdubbing @twittytelly @linki-locks11 @ab-baybay @impalaimages @jesseswartzwelder @rainbowkisses31 @xostephanie @smoothdogsgirl @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @xxloki81xx @firstangeldragonranch @soitmightgetweird @maeleeme @denisemarieangelina @rvgrsbrns @icanfeelastormbrewing @kitkat1690 @smilexcaptainx @dangerouslovefanfic@kelbabyblue @sweetlittlegingy @dont-need-another-fandom @chrisevansforever @evansxxx @southerngracela @bitterstar88 @squirrelnotsam @kitkatd7 @marvelislove10 @the-doctors-fallen-angel @hista-girl @cocomel0613 @also-fangirlinsweden @mustangshelby04 @bellaireland1981 @carolina-thiell @straightforwardly @torntaltos @denise1605 @mcuclintasha @iam-cj @trynnabemultifandom @chrisevansforever @kelbabyblue @broadwayandnetflix @kyjey @thevelvetseries​ @i-just-feel-like @daddieslittlefangirl @stankface @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @whymalu @mariswritingforfun @tessabb7​ @lakamaa12​ @deidrashouseofpain @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @greyeyedsmile14 @dangerouslovefanfic @ripvandrinkle @bitterstar88 @zestygingergirl @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @onceuponathreetwoone @supraveng @michelehansel @fanfictionaffair @agirlcanstilldream @what-is-your-plan-today @jessyballet @capstopavenger @wiczer @titty-teetee

[wildlyglittering]

A Love for all Seasons Part 1 (Winter)

I said that I would write a piece for Nessian Month to be posted each Sunday so here is the first!

I’d hoped to have this up earlier but hey ho. I ended up scrapping 8,000 words of something that I’d previously done and re-wrote this in a day. It’s barely edited so I can only apologise for dubious quality and numerous spelling errors. 

I asked for prompt requests and this one is based on ‘modern au, Nesta as a ballerina.’ You’ll probably see that it’s not entirely modern au because I just can’t write modern au - sorry!

I’ve decided to link all 4 prompts received together as a 4 part series. Not all other sections will be as long as this one. Probably. I mean, I’ve not written them yet so....

***

Velaris at Solmas was a magical time and Nesta wasn’t thinking metaphorically – Solmas was literally a magical time.

Solmas was a blend of both fae and human traditions and, as a time for celebration, this meant spirits were up and magical shields were down. Active magic rippled through the air as did the leakage from those who had magic but never used it.

No one truly remembered when the lines between fae and human’s merged and there was the possibility the fae had decided to adjust the truth in collective memory to make it seem like they had always been part of the city.

Perhaps they had. Perhaps they hadn’t. Not a human amongst them could tell and not a fae amongst them would.

As centuries passed, or decades - no one was quite sure after all, the fae evolved to blend in. They shed talons, claws and teeth, and moulted wings and shimmering skin.

That wasn’t to say a good deal of them didn’t have remnants of their previous lineage; there were still those who had wings and those who were always followed by a mist. Some slipped from human form like their flesh was a dress.

There wasn’t a fae who didn’t have some magic, however small. But then, so did Nesta and her sisters, Feyre and Elain.

At some point in their collective past, the fae decided they liked the humans and vice versa and so romantic liaisons were not an uncommon occurrence. Despite a few differences, both species were compatible and that was how magic managed to bleed into some human veins. As Feyre said, they were human but with ‘added spice’.  

Sometimes all that magic, especially at this heightened time of year, was damned irritating.

That morning Nesta had been in a café, reading her book when a lady biting into a gingerbread man had to stop on account of her baked good starting to scream.

Then, when she’d left to make her way to the ballet, she’d been caught in a snow flurry where the snowflakes took the form of small fairies and danced around her. She’d slapped them away, ignoring their outraged cries.

The walk which should have been ten minutes from her favourite café down into the theatre district ended up taking forty after some enchanted horses pulling sleighs decided to protest and caused a blockage across three streets, causing numerous detours.

When she finally reached the theatre, the peace of her day shattered, Nesta stormed into her dressing room and slammed the door. “Fucking fae.”

Nesta didn’t hate the fae. Technically, you couldn’t. Anytime anyone had a negative thought there was a haze which descended over people’s minds to remind them how much they loved the fae and how pleased they were to live beside them.

The magic in her blood meant the haze was a pithy little thing which Nesta mentally told to shove its pleasantries up its non-existent asshole leading it to drift away, pretending it wasn’t offended.

No, she didn’t hate them but she found them so inconvenient.

Nesta had settled at her dressing table when her door opened following a knock. A head peeked round, long ruby-red hair streaming downwards. One of the fae Nesta did like.

“Nesta?”

“I’m here.”

“Viviane said she’s going to turn a portion of the Sidra into an ice rink later, fancy coming? I might also take an ice-dive. Good for the pores!”

Gwyn, the production assistant at the Velaris City Ballet Company was fae but was classified as a water nymph. Nesta had only discovered this when they took a trip to Adriata the beach city the previous year for a ‘hot girl summer’ and she realised Gwyn had a set of gills accompanying her lungs.

Nesta met Gwyn’s eyes in the mirror and raised an eyebrow.

“What? I can’t help myself; you know that. I take it the ice-rink is a no?”

Nesta shook her head in response as she began on her hair but smiled. Despite herself she really did like Gwyn and Viviane, and a lot of the production company too even though the company was riddled with nepotism and bias.

Few humans managed to win a place in the ballet. Arts and creative pursuits were hard to break into when you were auditioning against fae. The only reason Nesta was as successful as she had been was because of that drop of magical blood.

She reached for the headdress resting next to her make-up. The Solmas production was The Nutcracker which their performance director, Eris had choreographed and screamed over for weeks.

“Tchaikovsky was a close, personal friend of mine,” he’d bragged. “He was fae of course, well – half-fae, but then no one can be perfect.”

Nesta had rolled her eyes and ignored Eris’ glare, not at all intimidated since they both discovered she immune to glamours and spells.

Nesta hadn’t been able to score the prima ballerina role for the production but then she hadn’t for years. How can a human compete with fae who spun in the air and flew on invisible, gossamer wings?

She’d auditioned for the role of Sugar Plum Fairy and wasn’t offered the position on account of the actual fairies also auditioning. If Nesta had managed to win the role then she wouldn’t have lasted a week before a surprise accident befell her, regardless of the amount of protection charms she wore.

The role she had won suited her fine, the dance being one of her favourites – the Illyrian dance. The steps weren’t complex but the performance was all about attitude and frankly, Nesta had that in spades.

When she’d been offered the dance, Gwyn took her aside in the corridor, a frown on her face. “Are you sure you want to perform this Nesta?”

“I know what you’re going to say, the dance should have gone to an Illyrian and you’re right – it should have. I’ve been trying to petition Eris for years now about Illyrian ballerinas but he’s always up to his typical high-fae purist bullshit.”

Gwyn had given a nervous laugh and looked around them, making sure Eris wouldn’t somehow leap out of the wall at the comment. It was a fair suspicion; he’d done it to performers before if they had any critique of him to say.

“Just do the dance cultural justice.”

Nesta swore she would.

On the scale of species hierarchy, full humans remained at the bottom. They were aging mortals with no magic and poor immune systems. The fae laughed themselves silly at the concept of chicken pox and the common cold. However, it didn’t mean every fae species was revered.

High fae like Eris were basically royalty while lesser fae were their middle-class cousins. Nymphs were considered useful and the majority of other fae fell someplace in between.

Illyrians were almost a side step from the hierarchy.

As a species they were immortal, eternally youthful and ripe with magic as powerful as some of the high fae. Some of their bodies were like machines with what they did with them and they would have been able to perform ballet for days on end without breaking.

They also had those vast jet-black wings which were terrifying and enthralling at the same time. It was a shame Illyrian Air didn’t do well, but then there were far too many customer service issues.

The only reason they weren’t on par with the high-fae (in the eyes of the high-fae) was that they weren’t elegant enough. They moved with a violence underneath the surface of their flesh like their blood was fire.

They also had complex histories which no one understood because Illyrians refused to discuss anything about Illyria and their heritage with anyone who wasn’t an Illyrian.

She once asked Feyre about them to be told Illyrians had spent their entire lifetimes being looked down upon by other fae so when those same fae demanded Illyrian secrets, they refused to comply.

Feyre had said, “Cassian told me, ‘Why should we give them anything when we have to fight for everything,’” and Nesta conceded he had a point. Possibly the only point Cassian had ever had but a point nonetheless.

Why was she thinking all this now? Why was she thinking of her baby sister’s stupid friends? She knew very well why.

Gwyn had stepped into Nesta’s dressing room. “Isn’t tonight when your sister and her friends are coming to the show?”

Yes, that was why.

Gwyn leant against the wall, in Nesta’s line of sight in the mirror and Nesta shrugged keeping her voice nonchalant. “Yes, unfortunately.”

It wasn’t unfortunate Feyre was coming, Feyre who loved anything to do with art and ballet but Nesta wasn’t looking forward to the rest. Rhys, Feyre’s half high-fae, half Illyrian boyfriend had all the arrogant superiority of the high-fae and the volatility of the Illyrians with none of the manners.

Nesta was painfully aware Rhys didn’t like her.

The rest of the group were also non-human with Feyre seemingly abandoning humans completely, preferring the exclusive company of Rhys circle of fae friends. Elain was the opposite, living outside the walls of the city in her cottage, wanting nothing to do with fae at all.

Feyre had told Rhys a bunch of stories from their childhood and Rhys didn’t quite comprehend how human sisters worked, didn’t quite comprehend how complex their relationship had been.

The spit of magic in their blood had made things all the more difficult as humans were not the best containers for magic. In Nesta’s eyes what made it worse were all the tattoos Feyre had inked into her skin; amplifiers mostly.

Anger had been born from Nesta’s worry and her worry was from her love.

Feyre understood the root cause of Nesta’s peevishness even if she didn’t like it but Rhys saw disapproval and returned it in kind.

At the thought of some of the attendees Nesta’s heart started doing something change, fluttering away like it was a bird trapped in a cage. She remembered when Ianthe, one of the ensemble, had shown them the pet bird she’d brought.

“Isn’t it lovely?” she’d said, her eyes glittering as her fingernails grew sharp. “Such a pretty pet for me to love.”

Nesta remembered the poor thing desperately trying to fly out of its cage, smashing its wings and beak against the bars.

Ianthe ended up eating it. She’d sobbed she hadn’t meant to but she hadn’t grabbed her protein bar that morning when she’d left her apartment and she was starving.

They couldn’t help it; it was in their nature to consume. The fae were like locusts that way, consuming land, lives, birds. Hearts.

Gwyn’s smile at Nesta’s response stretched into one which took up most of her face and Nesta refrained from shuddering. Nymph embodied the gentle and the harsh of their element. Water nymphs had the ability to be as tranquil and soft as summer rain or as vicious and deadly as a shark in deep water.

“Uh-huh. Will Cassian be attending?”

“I don’t know, probably.”

“Are you nervous about doing the Illyrian dance in front of Illyrians?”

Yes. Terrified.

“No,” she said, “I’ve done my research.”

Eris’ choreography for the dance was lazy and aggressive, rooted in his high-fae misperceptions of Illyrian culture. Nesta convinced Eris to let her put together her own steps and when he let her, not giving a damn about the dance, Nesta sought out the sole Illyrian choreographer in Velaris - a woman named Emerie.

At least the dance would contain authentic steps, she’d just never performed it in front of any Illyrians who weren’t Emerie before.

Gwyn’s grin was still wide.

“Oh, go away would you,” Nesta said with a scowl. “I need to focus before the matinee.”

Gwyn laughed at Nesta’s scowl and Nesta knew Gwyn understood Nesta’s words were harsh but her meaning wasn’t.

“Fine, fine. I’ll see you later, my little witchy dancer.”

Nesta glared at her friends departing back. I’m not a witch, she wanted to say, just a human whose great grandma caught the eye of a high-fae and had at it.

The matinee performance went well. Performances at the Velaris City Ballet Company always went well. The city made it so, drawing in an audience like moths to lamplight.

For all its splendour, Velaris was ancient and small. What was once a human village at the base of the mountains with the Sidra River running wild aside it, grew in population and glamour once the fae came pushing through the veil.

Human technology and fae magic combined to turn the place into something unique which rippled out to other human towns and dwellings but Velaris remained the first and the original.

While other cities grew, Velaris kept its quaintness. Old buildings built from red stone were covered with trailing ivy which bloomed with different flowers depending on the inhabitants’ moods. Rooms would change their size and shape according to the number of people within and wallpapers would shift when required to become something new. A piece of furniture could be a chaise longue in the morning and a mahogany dresser by nightfall.

Outside was no different. The cobbled side streets were slightly off kilter and you could look back, having walked up a steep street only to realise the path you’d walked was now heading a different direction and upwards, not down.

The ballet house was one of the oldest buildings and contained concentrated magic the way a bottle contained liquid. It also meant, much like liquid, if the bottle was shaken then there would be spillage.

Truth told; they’d had some difficulties with previous performances.

The first performance of Sleeping Beauty had left the majority of the audience passed out in their red velvet chairs while thickets of thorns grew up from the stage floor, encompassing the dancers. Nesta had to hack through several vines to reach her dressing room to grab her apartment keys.

The Snow Queen last Solmas followed suit. Viviane had been their prima ballerina that year and was in her utmost element. That had been the worst winter Velaris had ever experienced with uncharacteristic heavy snowfalls and biting frosts. The less said about the temporary missing children and ominous women in sleighs, the better.

Aside from when Eris turned actual rats into human sized dancers and the whole city was put into a three-day long lockdown while fae exterminators went to work, The Nutcracker was going fairly well.

Magic whirled the audience through each act and they heard and tasted and smelt everything being shown to them. Music would drift into their ears as performers danced fluidly across the stage. Some of the audience sobbed, overcome by the magic which sank into their skin.

The experience took some time to get used to if you were human. The first time Nesta had performed ballet in Velaris she was dizzy with nausea and slick with sweat. Now she even managed to use some of her own dormant abilities to counter the effects, or even to add in some of her own.

Before the evening performance began, her phone beeped with a message from Feyre.

Can’t wait to see you dance! Catch up with you afterwards!

Nesta groaned. She’d agreed to go for a drink at the in-house bar with Feyre and the rest but now she wished she was going straight home.

The stage melted away from the dance before hers into Nesta’s scenery as she waited in the wings for her cue. She eyed up the boxes, knowing Rhys had sponsored one for Feyre but didn’t have a clue which one.

The Illyrian dance had a sparse stage, to demonstrate the Illyrian steppes but the painted backdrop was one of Ramiel, the revered Illyrian mountain. Despite the sparsity, the set pulsed with a dry heat; the scent of crackling wood fire and spice filling the air, the sensation of warm winds tickling her skin.

When the music started, she danced on, determined to prove to Illyrian eyes in the audience she would do it justice.

Nesta drew on the same magic which ran in Feyre and Elain’s bones, the same magic Feyre had permanently etched on the surface of her skin. When Nesta leapt, she cast imaginary wings on her back which carried her further forward and higher. When she pirouetted, she was spinning on ice. Her arms were graceful and her legs sharp.

Nesta formed herself into a blade of dance as she undulated her hips and curved her spine. She swore the heat under her skin caused the air to burn around her.

She finished to rapturous applause and resisted eyeing up the boxes again although she wanted to know if any particular hands were clapping.

In the wings Gwyn was waiting and handed her a towel and Nesta realised she was glistening with sweat, droplets highlighting her cleavage.

“Very nice,” Gwyn said, clapping. “A small fire broke out in one of the stalls.”

Before Nesta said anything, Eris walked by with a low whistle. “Great performance, Nesta. I now have a raging boner.”

The women shrieked in disgust and Nesta threw her towel at him. “Animal.”

Eris grinned, “You know it” and his eyes shone as he caught the towel. Nesta made a mental note to ask Elain for more rowan to put around her dressing room door.

Nesta watched the rest of the performances from the wings until curtain close. Usually she never dawdled, always wanting to remove her costume and dress into civilian clothes as quick as possible but tonight she took her time, idly drawing out each minute until she couldn’t avoid her fate forever.

Audience members with children, fae or human often left first, clearing the way for those who wanted to remain behind in the theatre bar. When the fae discovered alcohol a new set of problems arose. Regardless of what species you were, once you were drunk you did stupid things.

The bar was below ground level and took up a vast amount of space. Overstuffed seating was positioned around tables in compartments, each draped with their own set of thick, crimson red curtains with gold tassels. If the occupants wanted privacy, then they had it.

Nesta shimmied past groups; fae, human and mixed, who laughed and clinked their champagne flutes, none recognising her as a dancer they’d watched earlier.

Feyre was likely to have a private booth booked along with the theatre box as Rhys had so much gold he likely melted it down and bathed in it. The last time Nesta met up with Feyre, her little sister had been wearing a diamond encrusted corset top.

Ahead of her stood two figures, both leaning against the open fronted bar and deep in conversation. Cassian and Azriel. No one was able to miss them even if they tried to blend in. Illyrians were known for their size and their wings and not exactly known for their love of ballet.

Almost as though he sensed her arrival, Cassian stopped talking and turned, strands of his black hair falling from his messy bun. Her eyes met his and she felt how she always did whenever they glanced at each other – a little bit anxious, a little bit horny and a little bit excited.

Nesta was worried if she opened her mouth, a thousand butterflies would float upwards from her stomach.

The look on his face, one she couldn’t place, slipped into something familiar as she drew nearer. Cassian smirked at her and followed it up with a slow, obvious glance from head to toe.

“Hello, Nesta.” He drawled his words, husky and deep. His voice was a baritone which always had her itching to dance across his words. Illyrian magic wasn’t the strongest but those who wielded it were.

What Illyrians wielded their magic for was anyone’s guess but if she had to, Nesta would have guessed it was for making panties drop if the turning heads of the crowd and little sighs was any indication.

There had been occasions where she too was driven with the need to show him more skin of hers then he deserved, to beg him to lay her down and cover her body in honey before licking it off with rasps of his tongue.

Must have been magic.

“Cassian,” she said with barely a nod and turned to his companion. “Azriel.”

Azriel nodded back a polite hello while Cassian leant against the bar directly facing her, wearing a grin as sharkish as Gwyn’s. She was like a lamb on the ground being circled by a taloned beast.

“Interesting performance.”

Azriel coughed at Cassian’s words, spluttering on the beer he was drinking and Nesta frowned, heat flooding her cheeks. Was he mocking her?

If he was, she wouldn’t give his smugly handsome self the satisfaction of getting to her and instead she ignored his words asking who else was here and where her sister was.

“Feyre, Rhys, Az and me. Amren came to watch the ballet but didn’t stay for drinks.”

“And where’s my sister and Rhys now?”

Cassian jerked his head over to the direction of the compartments. “They’re having a private ‘conversation’ behind closed curtains.”

Nesta’s face twisted in disgust. Fucking fae. Always fucking.

“Why didn’t Amren stay?”

“She never sticks around after The Nutcracker. Says it’s derogatory and insulting and she only comes to refill her well of rage.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, what was it she said Az? That the performances were brimming with cultural appropriation?”

The heat on Nesta’s cheeks turned into furnace. It wasn’t as though Cassian explicitly referred to Nesta’s performance but his words had to crawled under her skin. Feyre’s fae friends weren’t fans of Nesta’s, not after Rhys had spilled to them everything Feyre had told him.

For a group so ancient, they acted like spoilt human teenagers. Nesta would take the high road and try and find dignity in silence.

The bartender brought out another beer for Azriel and a glass of dark liquor for Cassian. A glass of wine from the Rosehall vineyard was handed to her and she was surprised someone had the foresight to order for her before she arrived, and with her favourite drink.

“Did you not like it then?” Nesta asked after taking a sip, her voice light. Azriel coughed again and this time Cassian shot him a glare, his rough-hewn face growing solemn before sliding into his more casual expression.

“There were some authentic Illyrian steps involved which is impressive. Didn’t realise old Eris had it in him.”

“It wasn’t Eris,” Nesta said, “It was me. I found an Illyrian choreographer in the city and she taught me some steps.”

Cassian’s face stilled for a moment, motionless like stone before letting out a roaring laugh which reverberated around the bar. The lesser fae behind him jumped and splashed his drink on the counter, quivering in fright.

“Well, that explains it!”

Nesta’s flesh prickled, her skin chilling in the overly warm bar. Goodness knows what she’d been dancing. Some dance of self-mockery probably. Her throat was burning and she didn’t understand whether she was upset because she thought Emerie liked her or upset because Cassian had seen.

Nesta’s fingers clenched the stem of the wine glass and she took a gulp of her drink, downing almost half as her hand wavered and her eyes watered. Cassian immediately stopped grinning.

“It was a beautiful dance,” Azriel said from her right and she turned to him, his face serious. “Other performances of The Nutcracker have the Illyrian dance as the violent, hostile war dance. Yours was the best one I’ve seen. Cassian liked it very much.”

Nesta whispered her thanks, looking between the Illyrians standing at either side of her who were now glaring at each other. She was out-flanked next to their bulk and she wished her sister was done doing whatever the hell she was doing so Nesta could say her hellos and goodbyes and get out of there.

“There’s only one Illyrian choreographer in this city,” Cassian said, his voice softer as his fingers trailed around his glass rim. “No other Illyrian would ever bother with this place.”

Nesta looked around the theatre at its gilded gold décor and red curtains but somehow knew Cassian was referring to Velaris as a whole. Illyrians never came to the city to visit, let alone live.

She glanced at him and found his smile was gentler and his hazel eyes, which always bordered on lascivious, were kinder somehow. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to mock her, perhaps he realised his raucous laughter had hurt.

He had no reason to care if he’d hurt her feelings and she shouldn’t have cared either but there had been a sting to his words which sunk deeper than she’d liked. She wasn’t opposed if he wanted to soothe over his words.

But she wasn’t about to let him know that. Instead, she fixed a bored expression onto her face. “Oh,” she said, looking into her glass as she swirled her wine around, “and who would that be?”

Cassian, still leaning against the bar, mirrored her by looking into his own glass before taking a sip.

“A friend of mine from the old country moved here a couple of years ago because her attempt at bringing ballet into the township was less than successful. You know her human name as Emerie.”

Cassian was still leaning against the bar, now looking into his own deep amber coloured liquid before taking a sip.

Nesta’s head snapped up to find Cassian now looking intently at her. “Yes, that’s her.”

“Figured,” Cassian said with a chuckle and took another long sip.

His mood seemed less jovial than before, more pensive and Nesta glanced around to discover Azriel had gone from her side. She looked around the crowds but didn’t see sight of him. How she lost an Illyrian of his stature she didn’t know but when she whipped her head around to the booth Cassian gestured towards earlier, the curtains were still closed.

She didn’t even have it in her to be irritated. The whole night was a wash-out and because of the stupid enchanted horse incident earlier closing streets, she was now adding additional time to her walk home.

“Well, then,” she said. “It’s been a long day and I’m tired; I have another two performances tomorrow and I want to head out and avoid any festive idiots.”

Cassian stood upright, alert and facing her, his glass sloshing the liquid violently as he placed it back onto the bar a little too hard. His wings flexed. “You haven’t seen Feyre yet.”

“If Feyre wanted to catch up with me then she wouldn’t be playing hide the fae penis with her boyfriend right now.” Her tone was sharp and she glared at Cassian. “It doesn’t take much to say a quick hello to your sister.”

Did Nesta care if Cassian thought her rude? Not a fucking bit. Despite Elain living an hour outside the city and Feyre only living on the other side, a journey which took less than a minute travelling by Winnow Express, Feyre was the sister Nesta saw the least.

“If she comes out at any point,” Nesta continued, “tell her I’ll call her.”

It wasn’t a lie when she said she was tired. Two performances a day took it out of her let alone when magic clung in the air at Solmas and let alone the fact that Nesta had used a tiny amount of her own as some kind of performance enhancer.

Whatever energy reserves she had was depleted, the glass of wine making her feel like she’d drank the entire bottle.

Nesta didn’t bother saying goodbye to Cassian, just left her empty glass on the counter and spun around.

Being a ballerina was on her side as she wove through the crowd and up into the foyer which was blissfully empty. Sadly, the world outside the doors was not so much and Nesta took a breath before wrapping herself in her stole.

The statues guarding the entrance waved her a goodbye, one with a human Santa hat adorning its head and the other with a fae garland wrapped around its waist. Nesta rolled her eyes. Human and fae decorations were put on everything so management could say they’d met their Equal Opportunities criteria.

Nesta stepped onto the pavement and looked down the street of the theatre district.

She couldn’t deny Velaris at night was beautiful.

History books stated the first fae who settled in the city were night dwellers and while they were able to survive in the sun, it was under the starlit sky where they thrived. So, the stories went that they made the night spectacular.

The ink black sky was painted with whorls of galaxies and splashed with stars. At first glance everything appeared white but when Nesta looked closer it was clear they were silver and gold and the purest, palest blue.

Feyre had once told her fae eyes saw more colours than humans and the stars were a multitude of colours – the rainbow and beyond. One of Feyre’s tattoos was designed to allow her to see what the fae saw.

The theatre district was still buzzing with humans and fae alike. Because of the nature of the city, it was usual for the streets to be filled until the early hours of the morning and after any performance in the theatre district there was no time for relaxing.

There was always residual magic left over from the ballet. The ballet theatre was the largest of the theatre buildings and so the magic started strongest at the end Nesta now stood before dissipating the further away you walked.

Snowflakes and flowers alike drifted down from the empty, cloudless sky. The Waltz of the Snowflakes and the Waltz of the Flowers often combatted against each other for prominence in their audience’s minds and refused to give in to each even after the show was done.

Thankfully, the Land of the Sweets didn’t involve themselves in this battle. They had done one performance many weeks ago and when chocolate rained from the sky it was delightful. Boiling hot coffee? Not so much.

Nesta navigated her way though the cobbles and crowds as petals landed in her hair and snowflakes melted on her eyelashes. She heaved a sigh of relief when she made it to the end past the gathered individuals who spilled out of the smaller theatres and theatre bars.

She turned left to go into a side street and stopped, almost tripping over her own feet.

Leaning against the wall, silhouetted against the streetlamps and fae lights was the hulking shape of an Illyrian.

“What are you-? How did you-?”

Cassian laughed as he used his elbow to propel himself from the wall and stride towards her. “What am I doing here and how did I get here so fast?”

“Well... yeah.”

“Wings,” he said, jabbing his thumbs in the direction behind him. “They come in useful from time to time. I thought I would fly you home.”

Nesta eyed up the wings behind him, remembering all the news reports of Illyrian Air. “No thank you, I like the walk.”

“Ok, then I’ll walk with you. Make sure you get home safe.”

She frowned. Nesta had lived in this city all her life and despite the occasional fae related incident which was brought on by personal vendetta, unavoidable prophecy from birth or magic spell gone wrong, Velaris was a safe place.  

It also helped that Nesta had that splash of fae blood herself and a glare which froze bones. Literally. There had been an incident with an ex-boyfriend but she’d filed an explanation with the police and it was never brought up again.  

“I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t need babysitting.”

“I know you don’t but I’d still like to walk you. Please.” The last word was said so softly she almost didn’t hear it but she caught the imploration.

Cassian stepped further into the light of a streetlamp, a few pale pink petals falling from his shoulders, desperation in his eyes.

Nesta sighed. “Fine, but I’m on the other side of the Sidra. The quickest route is over Mermaid Bridge.”

Cassian paused for a moment, “Mermaid Bridge? There won’t be any actual mermaids on it right?”

“Not at this time of year, the water’s too cold and they travel south.”

“Thank god, one of my ex’s was a mermaid. They are terrifying.”

Nesta shook her head, not able to imagine a creature of his size being scared of anything. They started walking in companionable silence. The further away from the city centre they strode, the more the crowds thinned.

Some shops remained open, including the café Nesta sat in earlier and groups had gathered around tables to laugh over mugs of frothy hot chocolate which overflowed with cream. Cinnamon, gingerbread, and candy cane scented the air.

As they walked, humans and fae alike paled when they crossed paths with Cassian and many darted out of his way. One lesser fae flattened himself against the red brick wall while another gave a quiet yelp and ran down an alley.

Nesta glanced up at Cassian but either he was pretending he didn’t notice the running onlookers or he didn’t care.

“What do you do?” she asked. She knew nothing about any of Feyre’s friends in any detail. “For that matter what do any of you do?”

Cassian laughed. “Rhys has a lot of inherited wealth, Amren trades precious stones – we think from the old dragon mines, and no one has a clue what Azriel does. I’m a bounty hunter.”

Oh.

“Caught anyone I’d have heard of?”

“Heard of the Tooth Fairy?”

Nesta grimaced, quickly swooping her tongue over her teeth. “Yes.”

“He was one of mine. So was the Bone Carver, the Weaver and Lanthys.”

Nesta’s eyebrows shot up. “Lanthys? The gold miner? What did he do? Wait, I don’t want to know. He asked me out once.”

Cassian glanced over at her; his own eyebrows raised. “Yeah? Did you say yes?”

Nesta pulled a face. “Good grief, no. He kept sending me telepathic dick pics. It’s bad enough being sent dick pics across dating apps.”

They approached Mermaid Bridge, which was, as Nesta said, devoid of the creature it was named for. Lights twinkled on the other side of the city, the residential side where Nesta lived. There were shrieks of delight further up the river in the dark and Nesta wondered if Gwyn was ice-diving next to Viviane’s ice rink.

Cassian coughed. “You’re on dating apps?”

“Not many, I thought I’d give them a go. My sisters are busy, I only have a few friends and I need something other than work in my life.”

“Yeah, I understand. ‘All work and no play’ make Cassian a dull boy too. The play part of life is fun,” he looked at her from the side of his eye and winked.

Nesta felt the blush spread across her cheeks and she willed it down with whatever force she had left. She wasn’t a virgin so she wasn’t about to start blushing like one.

They climbed the steps to the bridge and walked across. Of all the bridges which connected the two halves of the city, this was Gwyn’s favourite. Nesta’s human eyes couldn’t pick out the colours at night but in the day the railings glittered gold and shimmered with turquoise gems.

“Do you date?” The words slipped out before she stopped them. “You mentioned a mermaid ex so....”

Cassian’s laugh was more a breath and he started to smooth down non-existent knots in his hair. “Yes. Well...no. I did but work is busy and I’m sort of interested in someone and I guess until I purge them from my system, I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“How long have you been interested in them?”

“A while.”

“Why don’t you ask them out rather than eradicate them from your options?”

Nesta wanted to slap herself in the face. Or pitch herself off the bridge into the black, ice-cold water. Even as she was speaking, she wanted to not be but it was as though her mouth and mind had fallen out and no longer wanted anything to do with each other.

Cassian shrugged, “I guess. They just never struck me as someone interested in dating fae.”

They came to the end of the bridge and Nesta looked upwards at the sky. On this side of the river without the city lights, the stars were clearer to her eyes, more defined. One shot across the sky.

“You should go for it,” Nesta said, “you might be surprised.”

“Maybe,” Cassian sighed. “She’s kind of intimidating though.”

“You’re over six foot tall with massive wings and can use magic. I’m sure you’re more intimidating.”

“Me? Nah, I’m sure she thinks I’m an oversized bat.”

Nesta cringed. Those had been her words once a couple of years ago when she was first introduced to Feyre’s new friendship group and the Illyrian’s within. She didn’t think they’d heard her say it but then again, fae hearing was something exceptional along with fae sight.

The streets they walked were now quieter, the hustle and bustle of the inner-city gone. The chill settled in easier on this side of the river and Nesta knew she’d wake to frost across her window panes in the morning.

They were silent until they reached her apartment building, halfway up one of the steepest lanes. It was a small four storey which wasn’t spacious or modern but it gave her brilliant view across the river and Velaris and most importantly, it was hers.

“This is me,” she said, stopping outside the steps leading to the red entrance door. “Thank you for walking me back.” It was on the tip of her tongue to invite Cassian in for coffee but she held back.

He smiled, his eyes warm and shining. “Honestly it was my pleasure.” He leant forward, the sheer bulk of him covering Nesta and for a moment she thought he would kiss her but instead he took her slim fingered hand in his larger one and brought it up to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand.

“Goodnight,” he said, “I hope you have a good Solmas Day when it comes.”

Cassian was no ballet dancer but he sure moved like one, letting go of her hand and swivelling to face the direction they’d walked in from, marching down the slope of her street while Nesta stared at his retreating back.

He was clad in black and would have easily blended into his surroundings if not for the red jewels he wore at his wrists.

Nesta gaped down at the back of her hand, her mouth open. She still felt his lips, warm and soft, on her skin.

“Wait!”

Cassian turned back to face her, tilting his head.

“I’m sorry if my performance in the ballet was offensive.  I know Azriel said it was beautiful and that you liked it but if that was a lie to save my feelings, it’s ok. I went to Emerie because I wanted to make it authentic. I should have left it alone.”

Cassian smiled but it wasn’t mocking. He took a few steps back up the street towards her. “You know I said Emerie was a friend from the old country?”

Nesta nodded.

“She’s a really good friend. I like her a lot. She’s no nonsense with a great heart. I was trying to set her up with Rhys’ cousin Mor and in the process we got talking about dating and relationships and she asked if there was anyone, I was interested in. As it happens, I discovered this evening that she knows the person I was talking about. I’m sure she saw this as her opportunity to do some matchmaking of her own.”

“Oh,” Nesta said, her throat dry.

“Yeah. I also happened to tell her in one conversation I would be watching The Nutcracker this year on account of it being Solmas. So, there you go.”

The butterflies were flittering in Nesta’s stomach again and Cassian’s words were taking shape in her mind and building a story. “The steps Emerie taught me for the Illyrian dance – was that an invitation?”

Cassian’s smile stretched wide and he tilted his head back and laughed, the dark column of his throat shining in the starlight. “Oh yes, a very specific invitation. Emerie must have had the day of her life when she pieced everything together.”

The flittering in her stomach was now pooling in her chest. This type of conversation should have her fleeing up the steps and racing through the foyer until she threw herself into her cold bed to hide under the covers.

Nesta wanted to know what she’d inadvertently done without meaning to. Not that she minded whatever it was she’d done.

“What did I dance then, Cassian?” Her voice was lower than usual and rich like the overflowing cream in the café.

Cassian’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his hazel eyes were almost black. “The dance you performed half naked on a heated stage was most definitely an invitation, Nesta.” He smiled at her again, soft like before but there was something behind it. Suddenly he was a wolf and she the lamb again. He was all claws and teeth and animal.

A shiver of anticipation ran through her. Her pulse beating in her throat, drawing Cassian’s eye.

“Oh, Nesta,” Cassian said, his voice almost a growl. “You performed an Illyrian dance of seduction.”

[blackwidow-bby]

Right Where I Want You ch.3 - Natasha Romanoff x Evil!Reader

Oof hey guys that follow with this series, I am so sorry it’s been so long since I’ve updated and written anything. My brain is in a dump but I will be taking request soon to hopefully get some spark to continue writing!

Warnings: obsessive/red flag personalities, slight suggestive language, any others let me know

Taglist: @diaryoflife

———————————————————————

Natasha’s POV

It took a week for Natasha to finally get to a place where she felt safe and far away from you. The whole week, she spent thinking about you. What she had done and how she had missed very important information like you having powers. How did she miss the trap you had set her up in? It was Natasha that wanted you, how could she not see that you had done the exact same thing back to her. You were sneaky.

Your sneakiness from the abandoned den, meant that Natasha from this moment on would have to be on her toes. She’d be lying if she said the stunt you pulled back there didn’t make her want you even more. Her little baby had a dark side. Natasha felt a rush constantly thinking about how much you wanted her back, but a sour taste still remained on her tongue at being played so well by you.

Natasha would have been more okay with you wanting her had you simply allowed her to do everything she planned. Flipping the script like that on a professional and dangerous ex-assassin will certainly earn you a nice punishment, but Natasha needed to regroup. She needed to come up with something that would get you under her command. She wanted her shy, submissive little doll back. All she had hoped for to come from her plan was the perfect partner, who would do anything Nat had to say.

Natasha in all of her frustration, punched the tree closest to her. This meant it would take much longer to have you. She defeatedly meandered into one of the few save houses she knew she could go to. Running for a week to put as much distance between where she was left her caked in old sweat and dust. Her hair that had been tied in a ponytail, had been neglected. She needed a shower and some rest immediately.

Natasha placed all of her belongings she ran away with (which wasn’t much), on the small dining room table near the kitchen. Her sore legs and feet dragged her along on autopilot to the only main bathroom in the small shack. The dehydration, hunger, and sleep she missed out on was finally starting to catch up to her. She slowly with half closed eyes, peeled away her suit and rubbed at her own muscles as she removed her clothing. She reached up wincing at the feeling of her arms as she tried to let her hair down to fall at her shoulders.

She moseyed to the shower and turned on the shower head as hot as she could stand. The water did wonders to relax her aching muscles making a mental note to never go so long without another bath. She leaned forward on the wall and just allowed the water to run over her. The dirt and grime falling down her body in trails toward the drain. She let her eyes close for a second.

“What am I going to do now”

———

Y/n’s POV

This is the second time you awoke with a pounding in your head and made a mental note to stop letting this happen to you. You could feel your muscles spasm in your arms, stomach, and legs from the electric pulses of Natasha’s widow bites. Sure it wasn’t enough to kill you but god, did they hurt. You groaned out loud and slapped the ground. Immediately you beat yourself up for your guard falling on Natasha. You’d have her if you mentally focused on controlling your powers more and less on what you would have done after. It was just so easy to get caught up in her features.

Time to get up, you thought. It took about 5 minutes walking around the dark room until you found a door. Once you made your way outside, you looked back at the building she had taken you. The building was just small enough to not be seen amongst the the woods it sat. You’d really have yo come looking for it to know it was here.

Your brain felt like mush from the prior events but you did make note that it was dark outside still. You weren’t passed out for long, which made you feel better about finding Natasha again. There was a tiny open widow when it came to your powers, that left a tiny pull on whoever you used them on last. You maintained a good grip on Natasha during your altercation which hopefully was enough to follow the full for a while. Unfortunately unlike some inhumans with telekinetic powers, you aren’t able to levitate for long, meaning the majority of you trip will be spent by foot.

C’mon princess, you said to yourself, let’s put those years of camping to good use.

——

After 5 days on Natasha’s trail, your frustration had grown more. You could still feel the faint vibrations of your powers emanate off of Natasha but without actually seeing her, you had no clue how far she could really be. You doubt you could sleep in another conveniently unlocked car. The pure obsession with having Natasha and the need to find her soon really clouded your judgment. You’d never be in this situation under any other circumstances. 5 days without a shower? 5 days eating cheap crappy food? 5 days in old unchanged clothes?

What in the entire fuck had gotten into you. If you didn’t find her soon, the pull your powers have will completely dissipate soon. The rational part of your brain had shut down with your over powering need to find her. To have her in your arms, body trembling under your—ugh. You were growing angrier by the second. Both at yourself and you current predicament.

She’ll see just how much you want her yet…

——

1 1/2 days later

You had no clue how long you’ve been walking in the woods. The last pull you got from Natasha was at the tree line of a forest you have no clue where it’s located. You followed blindly the whole way.

Tears were falling down you face in anger. You came all this way for this woman who had enchanted your every thought process. Had the audacity to knock you out to trap you inside some crappy shed. Sent you on a wild goose chase unprepared. Your feet hurt, your body hurt, god forbid she pass more gas stations on her trek. But now the pull you felt completely diminished. You. Were. Livid. She’d pay for getting you lost. The only thing you could think was to walk straight forward making no curves or turns at any point. Hopefully you’ll find something.

Your knees quaked under your weight. Your eyes and hands had that slight glow of gold around them. Your emotions were getting to you big time. You just wanted to find her and hold her and scold her for making you come all this way. You walked and walked until things started looking hopeless. It was so dark outside. You had been doing this for days and finally the results looked bleak. More tears fell. You were clenching your jaw to try and keep the sobs you wanted to release at bay. You had failed and ultimately it looked like it was going to result in your death.

You kept forward until something in the distance came into view. A small orange light among the black blue darkness of the forest. It might not be what you want but maybe it will get you back home, food, a shower, something. With the last bit of strength and adrenaline left, you jogged closer to the light. It was getting bigger and brighter and closer. Fisting your hands to hold back the anger the previously was eating away at you. People won’t help you if you’re mean to them y/n.

You had stumbled so many times. The rush of getting to this cabin that was being inhabited had sparked a new amount of determination. You would live to plot capturing Natasha another day. Natasha. That saucy minx. There she goes inhabiting your mind again. She always did. Ever since you started seeing her on the news. Something about her just made you body tingle with admiration. You truly just couldn’t stay away from her could you? No matter, once you find her again, you’ll make her cry the very same way you did during your journey. Desperately and in defeat.

Your feet came to a halt once you reached the steps of the porch. It was another small cabin, similar to the building Natasha had brought you to but more homely and cozy. You peaked through the window that the light was coming from. It showed a quaint little kitchen completely open with a dining table and what must be a “living room”. Although a living room should have more furniture than a futon.

Other than the light in the home, this place looked uninhabited. Maybe they left the door unlocked. Walking silently to the door you reached to try the handle. Normally you’d have a million and one things to say about just entering a strangers home but you were desperate. At this point you’d be happy with a gun in your face if it meant they’d let you bathe first.

The handle turned….

It’s unlocked…

You carefully made your way inside the house. “Hello?” You called out “I seem to be lost, is someone home?” Not a single physical answer except the sound of…a shower.

——

Natasha’s POV

Natasha doesn’t know how long she had her eyes closed but judging by the pruning of her fingers, she had been there for a while. Funny how she managed to fall into a sleep while being in such a slippery place. No matter, time to get washed up now. She reached for the almost full bottle of shampoo that was left and barely used do you the exclusivity of this little safe house. Normally she’d rather have a more neutral smelling shampoo other than peach. It always seemed so childish and carefree to indulge in such strong feminine scents to her. It almost made her feel guilty to have a favorite smell when she spent a majority of her life killing people for a job and now getting down and dirty to right every wrong she’s ever made in the past. Maybe she shouldn’t have captured you.

Her ministrations halted at that thought. She stared blankly ahead under the water as the soap rinsed down out of her hair. Her lip quivered and her eyes slowly began to water. She really messed up. Her quick obsession had caused her to capture a secret inhuman woman to coax her into being Natasha’s ultimate sweet submissive little kitten. It had all backfired. She could have had it all along had she been upfront. You liked her back. That wasn’t something Natasha half expected. You were just as obsessed with her as she was with you. Shaking her of her thoughts, she scrambled back to getting clean. That’ll have to wait till tomorrow.

Nat had just moved on to scraping her body of all the disgust she accumulated over the week. As she was about to turn the shower off she heard a noise that made her entire body turn ghost white…

Hello?

It was you.

I seem to be lost, is someone home?

Oh no…

————————————————————————

[smutbymia]

Can I request a smut where y/n is Jaehyun's ex and they become successful by their own.One day they met at an award show or red carpet or something and Jaehyun just regret it.Thankyou 😚

Jaehyun stood with his group members in a line, posing for the flashing lights that shuttered from the dozens of cameras lined up behind the barricade in front of them. They were styled to perfection for the night, in preparation for their red carpet appearance at the Oscars. After participating in the soundtrack of a nominated film, the boys of NCT 127 found themselves attending the most prestigious film event of the year -- something they hadn’t thought they’d ever get the opportunity to do. 

They each had smiles plastered across their faces as they slowly shifted their gazes across the sea of photographers, moving from section to section on the carpet alternating between photo-ops and quick interviews with the press.

Jaehyun tugged at the front of his black tuxedo and straightened his bow tie while standing tall as Johnny chatted away with an interviewer just as he heard commotion at the other end of the carpet. He watched out of the corner of his eye when the photographers seemed to move in the same direction of the excitement.

Jaehyun shrugged it off, still trying his hardest to continue focusing on his groups interview. It wasn’t until he heard the voice of a photographer shout your name that his entire demeanour finally shifted. The cool, calm, collected image he had upheld all night began to falter. He watched as Mark — who was stood on the opposite end of the line lifted his gaze to peer discretely past Jaehyun’s head in your direction after clearly hearing your name as well. His eyes met Jaehyuns as he gave him a warning look. A look that told him to keep it together because there were millions of people at home watching through the cameras that were capturing every moment in real time, and broadcasting live across the world. 

Jaehyun tried his best, he really did. But he couldn’t resist any longer. He turned his head to look back at you. You stood on the marked spot of the runway in front of the cameras in a floor length white gown that made you look as though you had stepped out of Heaven itself. Your leg dangled out from in between the slit of the stress and your hair cascaded down your back. You took your position before alternating between a series of poses as you worked the cameras. Compliments spilled out from behind the cameras as paparazzi bombarded you with instructions on where to look -- to the right, to the left, up high for the ones in the back row, etc. 

As you shifted your gaze to a different section of photographers you mistakenly met Jaehyun’s own. The two of you locked eyes — with you pulling away at first, completely taken aback by your exes presence. Jaehyun however kept his gaze on you and continued watching intently as you worked the red carpet.

“Jaehyun?” the reporter called, as her voice interrupted his thoughts of you.

“H-huh? I’m sorry!” he said before flashing a dimpled smile and making the interviewer melt, “there’s just so much going on. The red carpet is so exciting!” he chuckled, and just like that he was in the clear — sort of. The interview wrapped up shortly after and all was well before the rest of the members gave him a knowing look once the cameras were no longer rolling. 

Jaehyun sighed deeply, glancing back at you once more as he admired your bright smile that was on full display during an interview. He missed you, he thought to himself. 

You had dated for a few months before you decided to move to LA. Originally the plan was to stay in Korea and settle down with Jaehyun but after he failed to uphold the promises he had made about finally going public with your relationship you decided that you couldn’t put your life on hold anymore for him. No one, especially you, deserved to be somebody else’s  secret. 

You moved out to LA and pursued acting. In just a few years you had finally worked your way up in the industry and were notorious for playing lead roles in indie films by some of the best directors in Hollywood who had grown tired of casting the more well known stars. Ironically that is what had turned you into a household name — as you completely found your niche within the genre.

But how did it feel seeing the boy you were more than willing to give up on your dreams for? Surprisingly you were okay. It hadn’t been easy and you needed to work through a lot of your issues over the years to get to a place where your pain and resentment towards your ex no longer consumed you. Being in such close proximity with your ex and feeling confident was certainly an improvement, you thought to yourself. 

Besides, you had found your own footing in the world and your own level of success as well. Though you both were famous celebrities, you both existed in two different worlds that rarely met -- until now. Maybe it was inevitable that one day the two of you would cross paths again. 

You blew through your interviews as others arrived on the carpet and within minutes were being ushered into the theatre by staff who were working on seating guests for the award show. You stood aimlessly by the open bar in the waiting area as your manager chattered away with the publicist of some other up and coming celebrity. 

You raised your hand gracefully to wave down a bartender who seemed to fail to notice your efforts at grabbing his attention. You sighed deeply before giving up and dropping your hand back down against the cool counter of the bar in defeat. You were hoping to get a few drinks in your system before having to sit through yet another boring ceremony. Suddenly you felt the presence of a large body behind you. You titled your head upwards to the arm that was raised high above you as the bartender finally walked over in your direction. 

“How can I help you two?” he asked. Flustered, you tripped over your words as you turned around, coming face to face with Jaehyun who seemed to be staring directly into your soul. You froze, and watched as he turned to speak to the bartender. Within minutes, two identical cocktails were slid across the counter. You sighed as you watched jaehyuns slender fingers wrap around the base of his glass as you mirrored his action.

Just then a photographer approached the two of you inquiring about a photo op. You smiled sheepishly as onlookers directed their attention to you. It’s not like you could refuse. Not on a night like this. It would look terrible on your part. So instead you stepped closer to Jaehyun and though he hesitated slightly, you felt his hand rest on the small of your back.

You offered up a sheepish smile as he remained stoned face as he usually did in pictures at events like this. After a few clicks and a few extra stares the photographer moved on. Jaehyuns members lingered by as they tried not to make it too obvious how surprised they were at the interaction. Once it was over they swooped in almost immediately.

Many of them offered you quick greetings but it was Mark who lingered to speak with you as they managed to create some distance between you and Jaehyun.

He spoke quickly and quietly. From the perspective of outsiders it looked like harmless mingling but his words carried weight.

“We can all tell that he misses you a lot, y/n. But we’ll do our best to make sure he doesn’t get in your way anymore,” he stated. Your heart froze at the new revelation.

You opened your mouth, hesitating a little before you spoke. “It’s okay,” you began, “it was a long time ago. I’m okay. You don’t have to coddle me.”

It was true that Mark had a tendency to get that way. Him and Johnny knew better than anyone else what had happened between you and Jaehyun and the two scolded him every chance they could get about the way your relationship turned out. They were all your friends before the romance between you and Jaehyun blossomed.

“It’s not you that we are trying to protect this time,” Mark confessed, “to be honest, it’s Jaehyun. He took it hard. Even though he knew it was his fault he suffered a lot and is full of regrets. We know you’re doing well now but... he hasn’t really been the same.”

You looked over Marks shoulder and locked eyes with Jaehyun who was engaged in what seemed like a deep conversation with Johnny that you were sure must have been similar to the one Mark was having with you right now.

His expression was downcast, yet stern. He seemed bothered by what he was hearing. You were almost certain Johnny was telling him to keep his distance from you but you couldn’t help the feeling in your heart... a feeling that made you wish you could hear these things directly from him instead.

The rest of the night proceeded accordingly though you couldn’t shake the feeling in your stomach. Good thing you were an actress because between presenting and carrying home your first award, you needed to really sell the fact that tonight was the best night of your life despite the fact that you were hurting a bit inside.

Next was the after party and yes, it was intense. Drug and alcohol fueled events were a regular occurrence in Hollywood and soon enough everyone was under the influence of something. There was a reason it was kept in the most exclusive hotel in the city and that reason was because people usually got so fucked up that the convenience of being able to be one elevator ride away from their beds was a complete blessing.

You called it a night quite early. You drank congratulatory drink after drink and decided that it was far better to leave while you could still somewhat see clearly. You had made your excuses and encouraged your team to stay around to party as you went back up to your room alone to get ready for bed.

You were all changed into a silk nightgown when there was a knock at the door. Figuring it was just room service, you went ahead and opened it up but to your surprise Jaehyun stood there alone. He leaned against the door frame with a half empty bottle of wine in his fist as his head hung low.

“Congratulations on your award,” he slurred as he held the bottle out to you. You were in complete shock. You poked your head past the door, hoping no one had seen him standing there. You planned on telling him to leave when you heard the dinging of the elevators bell as voices rang out down the hall. In a moment of pure panic you quickly dragged him by the collar of his coat into the room and slammed the door shut behind the two of you.

Jaehyun giggled. “Do you miss me that much?” He asked as he reached for your waist. Locking you in his embrace.

“Jaehyun are you crazy? You can’t just show up at my door like that. Lots of people are staying on this floor. Someone could have seen!” you scolded.

He placed the bottle down on a piece of furniture before putting the palm of his hand to your cheek.

“I’ve always been crazy haven’t I? Who would have thought it would be you wanting to keep us from being seen... after all this time,” he said as his voice dropped.

Your breathing became laboured as his eyes gazed deeply into yours.

“I’m so sorry. I should have never kept you a secret,” he confessed. “I regret trying to hide you from the world. Now that they get to see you, they get to love you too. Everyone who gets the pleasure of getting to know you always ends up loving you, don’t they?” he asked. He offered up a weak smile as the dimples in his cheeks went on full display again.

“I-I don’t know what you want me to say,” you answered. You covered his hands with yours as you drew it away from your face. You could see the sadness return to his expression.

Jaehyun blinked a few times. “Ah, I think getting so emotional just sobered me up a bit,” he winced as you watched his cheeks begin to blush.

“Mark and Johnny are going to be really upset with me when they find out that I came up here. I’m sure they already know by now,” he said. Jaehyun still held you in his grasp. You attempted to pull away but he refused to let you go.

“Please...” he pleaded as he felt you try to put distance between the two of you “please, y/n. Let me at least hold you for a little bit longer.”

He let out a deep sigh before engulfing you in a hug. You hesitated before wrapping your arms around his neck and could feel him relaxing under your touch instantly. Jaehyuns hands ran down the small of your back and grabbed at your waist as you could feel the desperation and yearning in his touch.

What was only a hug started to feel more intimate. Before you could stop yourself, you felt your hands yearning for more of him too. You ran one of your hands up the nape of his neck and into his hair as he burried his face into your neck — the warmth of his breath on your skin sending tingles down your spine. Your back arched slightly in response, causing your chest to press into his.

Jaehyuns hands travelled a bit lower, resting dangerously close to your butt and it was enough to draw a reaction from you. You sucked in air between your lips, before letting out a soft gasp. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. You cursed yourself for falling into his trap so quickly but his energy was intoxicating.

Jaehyuns lips brushed lightly against your neck before you felt him press them against your skin, giving you soft kisses on the delicate flesh. Your breathing became heavier. You made no effort to stop him. Your body reacted on its own as you titled your head to give him more access to you.

“Good girl,” he encouraged softly as he alternated between soft kisses and the dragging of his tongue up towards your ear. You whimpered as you felt yourself officially cave. There was no way you could stop now. Not when it had been so long since you last felt like this.

He dragged his teeth back across your skin, nipping softly at the flash before dropping one his hands to palm your ass. You let out a soft moan in response as you felt his hardness grow against your stomach. Jaehyun lifted his head away from you before locking you in his gaze once more. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes scanned your face.

You watched him through hooded eyes, with your cheeks flushed red as he leaned in to capture your mouth in a deep and passionate kiss. You moaned against his mouth as his tongue forced itself past your lips. You suckled softly on his tongue as his hands explored the rest of your body.

This time you took the lead, deepening the kiss and dragging him with you back towards the bed in your hotel room. You pushed off his coat and tugged at the buttons of his shirt as you continued to move backwards. When you felt the duvet covers on the back of your legs you sunk down into the mattress pulling him towards you as you moved to unbotton his pants, keeping your eyes firmly locked with his.

Once he was free he discarded the rest of his clothing with ease. Jaehyun stood before you, panting softly, naked body on full display as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Fuck...” you sighed. You could feel your nipples harden underneath the fabric of your nightgown while you tried your hardest to stop your eyes from wandering again.

Jaehyun’s lips turned up at the corners for what seemed like a mere second before his gaze went dark again. He stepped forward and reached for your face to run his thumb against your bottom lip. You couldn’t stop yourself from allowing your mouth to fall open slightly, inviting his finger to slip past your lips and across your tongue.

You suckled softly. Jaehyun used his other hand to slide the straps of your nightgown off your shoulders one by one. Your eyes never left his while you felt the fabric fall to your waist, leaving you topless. You stood up, mouth still full and eyes still locked to let it fall to your feet, leaving you naked.

Jaehyun’s free hand immediately grabbed at your waist, pulling you closer to his body and with a pop he removed his thumb from your mouth, replacing it with more fingers before finally switching to a kiss. Your tongue danced around his eagerly.

You jumped at the feeling of jaehyuns damp fingers against your clit as he wasted no time prepping you. Moaning against his lips, the two of you moved back towards the bed — this time, with Jaehyun settling in between your legs.

“Forgive me,” he said quietly. Your chest rose and fell with each passing second as you waited for him to speak again — fingers still brushing against your clit as you moaned quietly.

“I ruined everything. But, I want to make it up to you. Even if it’s just this once. Even if it’s the last chance I get. So be good for me, okay? Just for a little while longer” he said as he lowered himself to your core.

You were a writhing mess as you waited for his tongue to finally connect with your flesh and when it did... fireworks.

Maybe it had been too long or maybe he just knew your body better than anyone else but within seconds you could feel yourself getting closer to your peak. Jaehyun flattened his tongue against your lips, running it up and down your slit at a sensual pace. It was so good, but not nearly enough. He was teasing you and pleasing you all at once.

On occasion he would flick himself against your clit, watching as your body convulsed at the contact before pulling away again and watching you slowly get further away from your orgasm once more.

“M-more, please,” you begged as you reached your hands between your legs to rope in jaehyuns hair. He continued to work at your core before lifting his head slightly. You raised your hips to chase after him, not wanting to lose contact, as he chuckled to himself softly.

“I’m being rude, aren’t I?” he taunted as he teasingly ran two fingers down your slit, coating them in your juices. You groaned as you watched him put both fingers in his mouth, humming to himself.

“I can’t help it. You taste so good, I don’t want to rush,” he murmured.

“Baby, please” you cooed. Jaehyun froze momentarily.

It was a low blow. You knew calling him the pet name would bring him into a more submissive state but you were desperate at this point. You could feel the shift in the power dynamic as you used the hand you roped in his thick locks to pull him back down to your center.

“You said you wanted to make it up to me. I want to cum all over this pretty mouth, baby” you said. Jaehyun’s mouth hung open as he watched you in what seemed like a daze as he nodded softly before returning to what he had been doing before.

This time there was no teasing. He went immediately to your clit — lips engulfing the soft bud as he lapped at the flesh. You couldn’t resist wrapping your legs around him, slightly squeezing his head with your thighs to resist the intense amount of pleasure you were feeling.

You moaned as he forced your legs back open again, giving you no choice but to accept exactly what it is you had asked him for. Despite submitting to you so easily, he refused to let you off the hook.

Jaehyun slipped two fingers past your entrance and pumped them vigorously in and out of you as he sucked your clit into his mouth, releasing it with a pop before repeating his actions.

“Let me taste you. Cum for me,” he urged.

Just then, you granted him his wish as your back arched off of the bed and you felt your orgasm wash over you. Jaehyun didn’t let up. He continued to pump at your core without interrupting as he lapped away at your juices.

“Fuck, you’re dripping. I have to feel this,” he said. You continued to convulse under his touch as you let his name slip from your lips over and over again.

You felt his fingers retreat as he ran the head of his cock up and down your slit, making you shutter each time he brushed against your sensitive clit.

You only had a few minutes of rest before he was inching himself into you slowly before finally bottoming out. You moaned, still sensitive from your first orgasm as he began thrusting. He started off slowly, savouring the feeling of sliding in and out of you until he was balls deep inside of you again each time.

He layed on top of you, with his head burried in your neck as he snapped his hips forward over and over again. Soon it was just too much. The both of you seemed to have forgotten where you were because the way he moved and the way your voices filled the room made it seem as though you were the last two people left on earth.

“I’m going to —“ he tried to warn as his words were interrupted by his own moan. His pace got slower as he continued to bury himself into you over and over again.

You pulled his face to yours into a final kiss as you worked your hips against his. Your lips parted along with jaehyun’s as your kiss broke. They brushed against each other as you refused to pull away completely just as you both reached your peaks together. His warmth filled you up as you both panted. Your bliss was short lived when you heard loud and violent knocks on the hotel room door followed by muffled voices.

“Are you guys insane? You’re so lucky the party is at its peak right now because we could literally hear you from the end of the hall!” Mark said as the knocking continued.

“Jaehyun, I swear to God if you aren’t out here in three seconds!” He continued.

The two of you frantically pulled your clothing back on before you threw the door open. Mark looked the two of you up and down.

“Johnny is holding the elevator so no one else can get up here. We gotta go. Oh and congrats by the way,” he said before turning on his heels and making his way towards the elevator.

Jaehyun quickly pulled your face into his hands for a kiss, promising to call you soon before Johnny yelled for him to “get the hell into the lift!” and just like that they were gone again and you were left with a feeling that you couldn’t really describe — but still a peaceful one, nonetheless. You closed your hotel door finally letting your fingers flutter across your lips as they broke into a soft smile.

[ggukcangetit]

If The Bra Fits - JJK Fic

Final part of The Unbearable Lightness of Being... Something More series

Part 1 | Part 2 | 

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: ex-roommate au, f2l, fluff, smut, low-key crack

Rating: 18+

Summary: Jungkook knows you hate it when he pops into your apartment to borrow something, but in the 2 years that you’ve known each other, that hasn’t deterred him much. But one day when he manages to (accidentally) ruin your favorite bra while raiding through your emergency snack supply, he knows that he’s fucked. With only a brand name to help him on his search, Jungkook spends the next 48 hours buying all the bras that look even remotely like the one he ruined. The only problem is - how would he figure out which was the correct size without asking you?

Warnings: a lot of talk of breasts and the trials and tribulations of finding a good bra, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation, kissing, grinding, nipple play

Word count: 3.8k

a/n: thanks a ton to @hesperantha​ for beta-ing this! i was super nervous about writing proper smut >.< anywho, hope y’all enjoy this!

Jungkook knew he was fucked. Worse than when Jimin had walked in on Yoongi doing the do with his girlfriend. Worse than when Taehyung had lost his pet frog in Seokjin’s spice drawer. Worse than-

“Fuck.”

He would probably have to leave the country. Maybe he could move to Canada? Or New Zealand? Anywhere that wasn’t here. Or he could change his name! That might work…

“H-hello?” 

“What the hell, Jungkook? You were supposed to meet me for lunch 40 minutes ago! This is rude and, frankly, inexcusable behavior on your part.” Seokjin’s annoyed voice, talking at 300 words a minute, rang through the phone’s speaker. “And why the hell do you sound like that? Did you walk in on Yoongi and Soya this time? I swear, that guy needs to learn to lock his door. Or maybe just change his locks. I mean this is probably-”

“Seokjin!” Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose as his friend slowed his word flow. “I’ll be there in 10 and explain everything.”

Hanging up the phone, he surveyed the site of the massacre once more before stuffing the offending object into his backpack and rushing out. True to his word, he was at the hole-in-the-wall dumpling place in 10 minutes, attempting to explain to an irate Seokjin, the reason behind his tardiness. 

“No! You did not do that!” Seokjin yelled, nearly choking on the hot soup dumpling that was hanging - half eaten - from his chopsticks.

Jungkook had, in fact, done that. That being the most cardinal offense his frazzled brain could think of at this point. That being sneaking into your apartment when you were at work, hoping to swipe some of your favorite shrimp puffs, placing his cup of steaming hot mocha on your study table, rummaging through your emergency snack supply but somehow inadvertently knocking over the coffee on the table, and cleaning it up with the nearest article available, which tragically, happened to be your mint green bra. 

“She’s going to kill you. No” - Seokjin picked up a egg cream bun and popped the whole thing into his mouth - “she’s going to whip your ass and then hang you upside down from that metal pole on Hobi’s balcony.”

Jungkook stared at the way the cream bun smoothly travelled down Seokjin’s throat after a couple of chews, and shivered. “What do I do??”

“Why do you have to do anything? She won’t know it was you who spilled coffee on her table and then wiped it with her bra. Unless...” 

Jungkook stared at his fingers guiltily. 

“You took the bra with you, didn’t you?” Seokjin sighed, lightly smacking his friend on the back of the head for good measure. “Well, you could always blame it on Namjoon. That’s what I would do. Heck, that’s what I did when I accidentally broke Hobi’s favorite figurine.”

“I don’t know…”

“You have to commit to something, Jaykay.” Every time Seokjin used his nickname for Jungkook, it meant there was some kind of terrible scheme being cooked up. “Either be a complete little shit and blame it on Namjoon, or just go and own up to y/n. You can’t teeter on the edge like this.”

“I could always just sneak back in and leave her bra where I found it.” Jungkook felt better already. This was it. This was the middle ground he was aspiring towards - the sacred path between Seokjin and Hobi, the Yoongi of all decisions. 

“You might not have to sneak in” - Seokjin held up his smartphone where the group chat was open to a bunch of notifications - “Tae said we’re meeting at y/n’s place for tacos and UNO.”

“Why is Tae so invested in our UNO games? He gets confused every time we play it.” 

“Because” - Seokjin swiped his credit card at the counter and thanked the cashier with a quick wink - “like every good strategist, he plans to improve by observing everyone else’s style of play. He definitely knows how to play by now. He’s just giving us the confused puppy look so that we underestimate him and he can learn all our little tricks. Just you wait - a few more games and that sneaky shit will be handing our asses back to us.”

Jungkook, while mildly interested in Taehyung’s card game antics, was more concerned about returning your bra without arousing any suspicion. The perfect moment presented itself when Seokjin, Namjoon, Yoongi, Taehyung and Hobi were immersed in a game of UNO, while you and Soya were munching on tacos - because let’s face it, food trumps just about everything else. Coming up with a half-convincing bathroom excuse, he snuck off towards your room, hoping to finally rid himself of the mint green burden.

Seconds before he pushed your door open, a snippet of conversation floated towards him and made his heart stop beating.

“I can’t find it anywhere.” You were complaining to Soya about something, loud enough for him to hear. “I must’ve turned my room upside down looking for it.”

Soya didn’t seem too perturbed. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a bra. Yoongi regularly loses my underwear after we have sex in new locations.”

Jungkook chuckled because he could almost see the look of horror on your face at receiving this piece of information. 

“Ignoring that TMI,” you continued. “That’s my favorite bra, Soya! You know how our sizes keep fluctuating - well, this was the first bra I bought after getting measured at a proper place. It literally changed my life. Do you know how fabulous it feels to have your boobs at normal chest level - neither squished up towards your collarbones nor jiggling like that everlasting jello Seokjin keeps buying? I’m tellin-”

Jungkook stopped listening at this point. If he didn’t, there was little chance that he’d be able to think of anything other than that. As it was, the mere sight of you these days, was enough to get blood flowing to certain parts of his body. 

There was clearly only one thing to do.

“You want me to help you do WHAT?” Once again, it was Seokjin who barely managed to stop himself from choking on yet another scrumptious food item on yet another lunch date with Jungkook. 

“I’m going to replace her bra.” The resolute expression on Jungkook’s face crumbled ever so slowly under the scrutiny of Seokjin’s pure, unadulterated skepticism. “It’ll be easy. I-I already know what it looks like, and all the information I need is on the itchy tag she always complains about.”

Seokjin’s thick brow remained masterfully arched. 

“Are you going to help me or not?” Jungkook whined in frustration.

“What do I get in return?”

“Why would you want anything in return? Why can’t you just help me out this time??”

The masterfully arched eyebrow did it’s trick once again.

“Fine. You can borrow all my gaming equipment for a week.”

“A month.”

“No way!”

“Good luck shopping for y/n’s favorite bra.”

“Fine! A month! Now can we get a move on please?”

Thankfully, it wasn’t too difficult to find the particular store that you had bought your favorite bra from. It was a niche boutique on the third floor of the mall, full of politely judgmental staff members and pointedly supercilious patrons, all of whom were highly skeptical of Jungkook’s grey and black hoodie-sweatpants combo. 

“Guess they didn’t really get on board with the whole athleisure concept,” Seokjin whispered, earning a hard elbowing from Jungkook.

The looks of skepticism were further enhanced when Jungkook produced the ruined bra, asking one of the assistants where he could find the same one. Jungkook hadn’t received such a disapproving look since his junior year of college when he had eaten 8 cups of instant ramen on a dare, done a celebratory jig, thrown up all over Yoongi and Hobi’s sofa, and promptly passed out. 

“Er… I, uhm, need something!” The exclamation from Jungkook was received by a few expertly raised eyebrows. One assistant, in particular, narrowed their eyes at him and walked over.

“This is a lingerie store” - they scanned him up and down a couple of times - “sir. If you’re here to buy any lingerie, I’d be happy to assist you.”

Jungkook gulped at the expensive clothes and flawless complexion of the shop assistant. So far, things were not really going according to plan. 

“Ow!” He felt a bony elbow dig into his ribs and glared at Seokjin, who was glancing between him and the assistant so rapidly, Jungkook was surprised he hadn’t gotten dizzy and passed out already.

“Right. Umm, I’m actually looking for this particular one” - he produced the once-pristine, but now covered in ugly brown splotches, bra from his backpack - “in this exact same size. Do you have it?”

If the shop assistant didn’t look particularly eager to be breathing the same air as him before, they now looked like they’d rather choke on month old guacamole than be near him.

“Our products are made for exclusivity. We do not carry the same sizes as the general marketplace. There are 4 basic sizes with 4 variations to each size. And this particular product” - they held the ruined bra delicately between two fingers and examined the tag - “is now only available in 3 particular size variations. You are free to choose whichever one you think is the closest fit.”

Jungkook’s doe eyes widened as he realized the itchy tag that you always complained about, truly had no other purpose but to inconvenience you. His panicked stare fell on Seokjin who had busied himself examining a very interesting leaf on the potted plant near the entrance.

It was up to him now, Jungkook realized. His fate was in his own hands. Walking over to the shelf carrying the mint green bras identical to the one he was holding, he inspected the 3 options carefully. 

“I think I’ll take this one.” Was what he said out loud. Inwardly, however, he was screaming a very different tune.

“HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DECIDE?? I’VE NEVER BOUGHT A BRA BEFORE! I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT SIZE WOULD BE APPROPRIATE! IT’S NOT LIKE I SPEND ALL MY TIME SCRUTINIZING Y/N’S BREASTS!”

Thankfully, no one was privy to his internal screams except for himself.

“Thank you, sir. That will be $89.99.” Jungkook took out his debit card as the song playing over the system changed to No Tears Left To Cry.

Once out of the store, Seokjin let out a low whistle. “Wow… that was, undoubtedly, one of the most awkward situations I’ve ever been in. And I wasn’t even really in it.”

“At least the toughest part is over.” Jungkook felt like he had been running a 50 mile marathon while simultaneously figuring out the square roots of 5 digit numbers. In short, he was exhausted.

“Depends on what you think of that…” Seokjin pointed at a familiar figure, slowly walking towards them - someone Jungkook hadn’t expected to bump into in any of his worst case scenarios. You.

Confronted with an exceedingly dire situation with a bleak set of options, Jungkook vaulted into the nearest store, his entire being on high alert as it entered survival mode. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been paying attention to where he rushed into because-

“Congratulations! You’re our 100th customer this week! You get a complimentary hair spa and perm!” Five extremely eager faces stared back at him as he realized he had walked into some sort of hair salon. 

Whoever was writing the script for this day was definitely high on something because Jungkook walked out of the salon 3 hours later, slightly traumatized, with a head full of small curls, clutching onto the cursed purchase with every fibre of his being.

Seokjin had left hours ago, dropping a text to Jungkook which read something along the lines of catch ya later sucker - but that was the least of his problems right now.

It was nearly midnight when he finally entered his apartment after managing to sneak in the new bra into your apartment. Thankfully, you lived two floors above him, so the trek back to his place wasn’t too long. The stress from the past couple of days was finally catching up to him and Jungkook would give anything for a nice long massage and a bowl of steaming hot ramen. 

Unfortunately, all that he had at home was a few leftover containers Taehyung had left behind on his last visit a couple of days ago. There was also bread, eggs, and milk, but he didn’t feel up to making anything at this point. So dinner ended up being heated, two-day old dumplings. 

Just as he was about to head to sleep, a loud pounding started on his front door. It was well past midnight at this point and Jungkook wondered if he should be carrying some sort of weapon with him while answering the door.

There really wasn’t any need for worry because on the other side of the door stood a very angry, very disgruntled, very flimsily dressed-

“Y/n?! What’re you doing here?” 

“You!” Jungkook stepped back as you poked him in the chest. “What the heck is your problem?” Many more pokes followed, which Jungkook barely registered but which left your index finger increasingly bruised. 

“I- uh, I guess you found the parcel I left for you.” He scratched the back of his head, looking everywhere but at you.

“I CANNOT believe you!” You were fuming and Jungkook was contemplating calling someone for backup. Maybe Namjoon? Or Yoongi? Mayb- “First, you ruin my favorite bra! What were you doing in my apartment anyway? Trying to steal more stuff from my emergency snack supply?! Why can’t you just buy your own s-”

You definitely had a point about the snack stealing. But Jungkook couldn’t stop himself from going over and taking something that would undoubtedly attract your attention, because the last time that had happened, you both had ended up making out aggressively against the wall. 

“-and not just that!” You were clearly not done with being mad at him. “You go ahead and try to replace my favorite bra? With this???” You held up Jungkook’s purchase from earlier during the day.

“What’s wrong with this? It’s the same one, isn’t it? I went to the shop to make sure it was the same.” He didn’t really understand why this particular fact was making you so upset.

“You think this is the same?” You were standing very close to him and Jungkook gulped as he caught a whiff of your lavender body lotion.

“Yes?”

“You think my boobs are this small?? After the way you basically kneaded them with your hands last time??” 

Jungkook’s eyes widened, his face growing hotter with every word you were speaking.

“Why the fuck do you look like that?” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“L-like what?” His voice came out sort of strangled as he tried to make sense of the situation.

“Like you’ve been caught eating the last cookie.”

Jungkook didn’t know how to respond to this. He was very aware of the fact that you were wearing a flimsy grey t-shirt and very old, very small, sleeping shorts. He gulped and wondered if this was some kind of dream that he’d suddenly wake up from.

“I’ve been waiting for you to make a move since you stuck your tongue down my throat last time. But nope! Nothing.” Now he knew that there was something wrong. This didn’t seem like the rational next line in a dialogue between real people who had just been in a, slightly one-sided, fight. “So, are you gonna kiss me or not?”

“W-what?” His voice was barely louder than a whisper at this point and you scoffed loudly before fisting your hands in his t-shirt and crashing your lips to his.

It took him a few seconds to get his bearings, but Jungkook was soon responding with impressive enthusiasm. His lips glided over yours with a desperation borne out of nearly two years of attraction and chemistry. He groaned in pleasure as your hands travelled into his hair, your fingers running through his freshly done curls. His hands travelled down your back before cupping your butt-cheeks and squeezing them until you moaned into his mouth. The feel of your body against his was enough to make him slowly lose his mind - but your tongue swiping into his mouth brought out a strangled noise from deep inside him. This was so much better than the first time you had both made out - there was more experience and knowledge of each other, and you seemed much more determined than the last time.

“Tell me what you want,” Jungkook’s voice came out huskier than you had ever heard, sending a surge of electricity to your core. “Tell me what makes you feel good, y/n.”

His voice was sultry and his body rock-hard at the perfect places - his breath falling in harsh pants as he recovered from the intensity of the kisses. But his eyes held the soft sincerity you had grown to lov-

“Against the wall,” you breathed, your face flushing as you verbalised your request. “And then on your bed.” You took one of his hands and placed it on your breast, firm with arousal, and guided his other hand to the waistband of your shorts. 

A beautiful pink blush dusted his cheeks as he captured your lips once again. He had you against the wall in seconds, his lips leaving a trail of devastation from your lips to your throat to your breasts. You moaned loudly as you felt his fingers rub against your clothed core while his tongue flicked over your nipples at a deliciously slow pace. 

“Gguk…” God he loved to hear that name coming from your lips. He loved it even more now that it was in the midst of him pleasuring you to the best of his ability. 

“Bed. I can’t… stand...” You managed to say. He obliged, placing his hands below your knees and scooping you up with ease, all while his lips kept pressing soft kisses to yours. 

Once on the bed, you removed your t-shirt and shorts, instructing him to do the same. Jungkook stared at your bare body for a moment, his eyes glazed with lust before he stripped himself of his clothes and continued kissing every part of your body he could find. 

Your insides were coiling, the heat growing at your core as you watched Jungkook’s magnificent, completely naked, body move over yours. Your hands itched to run over his abs but your eyes were fixed on his throbbing dick, your core growing wetter by the moment. 

“Can I?” Jungkook’s hoarse voice broke you out of your dilemma, his face hovering over your thighs. “Only if you want it, y/n.” You were pretty sure his soft, caring words would be enough for your undoing, but you nodded your head anyway.

The first swipe of his tongue against your core had you arching yourself off the mattress, your legs kicking up involuntarily. This was definitely where his gym prowess came in handy, as he held your thighs down with enough force for the feeling to be unbelievably pleasurable. Your hands found themselves in his curls once more, as his mouth alternated between dropping feather light kisses on your core and swiping along the wetness with a swipe of his tongue. 

“I-I’m not…” You didn’t have to complete the sentence as stars exploded in your vision, the high hitting you with more force than you had ever experienced. 

Something inside you tightened as you watched Jungkook emerge from between your thighs, his curls sweaty, and his mouth slick with your arousal. He smiled at you, dropping a light kiss on your lips, even as his dick stood red hot and angry with arousal.

“Can I help?” You asked, although your voice was hardly above a whisper, the tiredness seeping in, as you came down from the orgasm.

“Next time?” His voice was soft as he gave himself a few strong pumps before spilling onto his stomach. 

He grinned at you sheepishly. “I’m also kind of exhausted today.” Getting up quickly, he went into the bathroom and cleaned himself off, before coming back with a wet towel for you as well. 

You smiled shyly as you took the towel from him, wiping between your thighs quickly. 

Jungkook was beside you in a few moments, cuddling you from behind as sleep slowly overtook you both.

“Jungkook!” 

You cracked your eyes open slowly, wondering why someone was yelling at the crack of dawn. You were still pretty much wrapped up in Jungkook, both your legs entangled as your head rested on his chest while he snored softly.

“JUNGKOOK!”

A second, much louder, yell, woke Jungkook up as well. His eyes widening in alarm as he realised what was going on.

“It’s Tae! What’s he doing here?!” He whispered, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Umm what?” You were panicking now. As much as you had been wanting things with Jungkook to pick up, you did not want Taehyung to find you both wonderfully naked after a night of wonderfulness. “He cannot see us like this! Not yet! I refuse to let this be how everyone finds out about us!”

“Jungkook, I’m coming in!”

Jungkook quickly pushed you below the covers, fluffing it up sufficiently to hide the fact that you were under it. He barely managed to close his eyes before Taehyung walked in, much too sprightly for this early in the morning.

“Aww!” His deep voice sounded through the room. “Jungkookie, are you still sleeping?”

Much to his horror, Taehyung made his way over to the bed, his long fingers smooshing Jungkook’s cheeks together as the poor boy tried to feign sleep.

“Did you sleep late last night?”

“Mph.”

“Jungkookie’s still sleepy? Aww!” The cheek smooshing continued, and Jungkook wondered how much longer you could stay hidden without Taehyung’s perceptiveness deducing that you were there.

“Hmmmm.” Jungkook managed to grunt out, tossing over to trap you underneath him.

“Okay, go back to sleep.” With one last cheek smoosh, Taehyung got up and left the room.

“Thank god!” Jungkook whispered in relief, pulling the covers off your face.

“I’m so glad he didn’t figure out I was here,” you sighed in relief. 

Jungkook grinned at you, his bunny teeth poking out adorably as he pulled you closer to him. You giggled, reaching up to place small kisses on each of his moles - there were 5 according to your last examination. 

“The curls are cute,” you said between kisses, running your fingers through his hair. He sighed contentedly, resting his forehead on yours. If it were up to him, he’d stay here forever.

“Oh and y/n-” You both stiffened as you heard Taehyung’s voice from the living room. Apparently, he hadn’t left yet. “-thanks a lot! Seokjin now owes me 50 bucks!”

please reblog this post if you enjoyed reading the story! thank you 😊 

[ktheist]

2 | exclusives only.

final installment to the to my dear friend series.

prompt.“don’t confuse your party friends with your real friends.” (x)

muses. jungkook x reader

genre. university au. fwb. f2l.

words. 8.9k

first installment. friend in me.

warnings. implied smut, mentions of name calling

synopsis. the goody-two-shoes. the girl who always sits in one of the front rows in class. that girl that has literal models as friends while she comes to classes in sweats.

you identify with all of these.

but what you don’t ever want to be known as, is that freaky girl who had sex at a semi-public place, in the back room of the student lounge with the most drool-worthy man at the faculty.

and that’s exactly what kim namjoon, your ex-boyfriend, manifested when he publicly announced to everyone from your faculty of your oh-so-sweet time together, “come on, ___, everyone wants to know if you begged me to be your first and how we fucked in the back room of the student lounge.”

x

the moment jeon jungkook’s name which you have saved as koo, flashes across the screen - time stops. so does your heart as you meet taehyung’s eyes which were just fixed on your phone before you flip it over and press the stickers engraved case with the your hand as though afraid he might be able to see through the aluminum and read the text jungkook sent you.

which is just-

koo: heyy

“um, excuse me,” jisoo, having been more focused on the group you lowly pointed out to be stealing glances your way and unlike you, she’s in the middle of raising her hand with an index finger pointing upwards, deep maroon lips pursed in annoyance as the group begins to whisper amongst them and looking back at your table as though in disbelief that someone would actually call them out, “yes, you guys - especially the girl with the fake channel jacket - ever heard of minding your damn business?”

“jisoo,” you hiss, yanking her hand back down and slamming it against the table, “i don’t care, they can say whatever they-“

“at least have the decency to be original if you wanna shit talk someone,” lisa speaks over you, as though she can’t hear your protest.

“taehyung, stop them,” you lean over the table in a hushed whisper, catching the man’s blank gaze whilst he slurps on his smoothie as though he sees nothing wrong with the whole setting. and it’s definitely not the nasty bruise around his eyes that’s impairing his vision - nor judgement for that matter.

“what?” he chirps, willfully unaware of the tension in the air.

“oh god,” you finally slump into your seat, head lowered in an attempt to let your tresses fall over your face and cover it as you pretend to rub the temple of your head, hoping - wishing a hole would open and up and swallow you right here and now.

hurried footsteps of the group trying to pretend like they’re not in a rush pass behind you. words like, “rude much?”, “ugh, we don’t even care”, “attention whore.” among other things echoing in murmurs into the air before the tranquil blanket of silence settles back over the vicinity.

lisa’s glare of death takes on a much cheerful light as she grins at the older girl as they high five over the table.

“guys, thanks but you didn’t have to do that,” is the first thing you say after you lift your head, a half-hearted smile on your lips, “i don’t really care and quite honestly they have every right to be here as much as we do.”

“sweetie, the fact that you were laughing with us just a minute ago and stopped all of a sudden means you do care,” jisoo says pointedly, deep maroon lips pursed together in a ‘don’t lie to me’ manner and once she sees your lips clamping together and possibly said lie getting swallowed into your throat, she continues, “- and that’s completely valid. they should’ve know to keep their mouths shut if they wanna eat here too.”

“okay, maybe i do care but i can’t stop them from stealing glances or pointing me out to anyone who doesn’t know me or doesn’t know how i look which i’m sure is just meh,” before lisa could interject, you hold up a finger, “i know i can look pretty at times,” you offer an assuring smile before sighing at your next words, “but honestly, at this point, i can literally hear the ‘that’s the girl that tricked namjoon into dating her last year’ everywhere i go and i’m kind of used it.”

“but you didn’t trick him and he started it first,” taehyung doesn’t exactly slam the cup onto the table but he doesn’t gently set it down either and the sound is audible enough the little corner you’ve booked for yourselves.

“does it matter? that’s what word has it around here anyway,” shrugging, you take a spoonful of the vanilla ice cream into your mouth.

“it sucks,” jimin, ever the listener and the one person who’s never put his phone down until now, finally speaks the word of the day - not a particularly profound one but they fit the situation, “but i mean, this’ll all blow over in a month.”

almost as though they share the same wavelength, lisa and jisoo begin grumbling out protests

“ugh, jimin.” lisa narrows her eyes at him, face contorted in disgust while jisoo gasps, wide-eyed, “park jimin, i raised you better than this.”

“what?” the man in question - questions, crescent eyes turning into a pair of full moons, shining with utter confusion as he looks he repeats the same word over an over again with increasing remorse, “no- seriously, what did i say?”

“it’s easy for you,” jeongyeon chirps from next to you, perfect nude acrylics gleaming mutedly as she holds a fry she stole from his plate in the air, “you’re a guy,” and only then she pops the fry into her mouth.

“where did she come from?” a frown etches itself onto taehyung’s face as he stares at the newcomer as though she grew another head.

“unless jeongyeon has witchery powers then my best bet is through the door,” shrugging, you pick up the vapor dotted cup, the sound of ice clicking against each other as you twirl the straw around gets drowned by the series of agreement from the two girls.

“what does that even mean?” with hair mussed from and eyes almost as wide as a mad man in search for the truth - the only thing he’s missing is an overgrown unkept beard - jimin’s raised voice brings you back to the issue at hand, spurred by jeongyeon’s ominously vague prophecy.

“it means,” you set the cup down after sipping on the chocolatey goodness , “guys get worshipped like some sex god when their body counts get exposed and people will be lining up to get laid by him but when it’s a girl who gets her, for once, healthy sex life and keeps to one partner like me gets ‘exposed,’” hands raised, you curl your index and middle fingers inwards in an indicative nature, “let’s just say it doesn’t really help me climb up the social ladder.” 

shrugging, you continue, “like yeah, maybe it’ll blow over like you said and our friends probably don’t care - they’re treating me the same but i can see our mutual friends becoming distant even though they don’t show but just this morning i went up to jennie kim was the to ask about the thing we have to do for a group project and i can kinda see it in her eyes. she sees me as that girl who begged kim namjoon to have sex with her, dumped him and got with the next cute guy of the century. and that impression of me is always gonna keep lurking in the back of everyone’s minds whether they do it consciously or not.”

a pause lapses in between you, not quite as profound as jimin’s jaw-drop is making it to be but maybe it is for him. the others continue to munch on their fries and jeongyeon just stole jimin’s drink, opened the cap and took a sip instead of using the straw, murmuring something about not taking any chances because ‘don’t know where his mouth’s been.’

it’s several heartbeats until jimin recovers from the load of information before he lets out an-

“oh.”

“yeah,” lisa nods, shooting him a ‘now you know’ look before turning to you with a pointed expression as though she’s ready to move on to a more pressing topic which was absurd because what else could be more pressing than your mid college term crisis-

“and you should say what you said just now to jungkook instead of ghosting him” 

-except the fact that you thought you were subtle enough in flipping your phone’s screen upside down and pretending like you were listening to whatever whoever was speaking.

all of a sudden, the heat of five pairs of eyes are on you. but those who are truly stricken by the news are jimin and jeongyeon, the latter’s gaze being unavoidable because she’s sitting smack dab right next to you, “wait,” a tense pause wedges its way in the miniature space between you and her, “you’re ghosting jeon jungkook?”

“i-i just-“ there’s something in the way her tone rises at his name and the sheer absurdity of it all that makes your heart wrench in guilt and discomfort, “i’m not gonna ghost him for forever-“

“you should though.” taehyung waves a fry in your face before popping it into his mouth.

“-i just need time to like, process everything. i mean, it happened just yesterday,” by the end of your attempt to explain yourself, you can feel your shoulder line falling as you sigh, back leaned against the chair, the fries no longer looking appetizing.

“it’s partly his fault for flaunting out your sex lives to the entire world,” taehyung points out.

“shut it, tae,” jisoo hisses before turning to you, “take all the time you need, sweetie,” she rests her cheek on your shoulder as she side hugs you, probably finally comprehending the level of confusion and frustration all at once that forbids you from texting jungkook back the moment he texted you which was just minutes after the car disappears around the intersection and his figure disappear from sight last night.

the moment jeongyeon stepped through the crowd and stopped next to you with the clack of her boots and the sheer ‘oh honey, you’re not ready for that talk,’ nature, you decided right then and there, if jeongyeon asked you to shave off your hair and hand it over in a tray, you would in a heartbeat.

“since ____ didn’t wanna say anything, i figured she did get you to sleep with her but felt bad about it,” the hand she kept tucked under her arm falls away to reveal the hundred bucks she’s holding in your face.

by then, you had a hunch of what she was planning in that wonderful head of hers but the weight of the tens of pairs of eyes had made you wary. it was jeongyeon’s plan, all you had to do was just run with it, not run it.

wordlessly, you took the folded note, smoothed the cripple out of it as best as you could before folding it in two and tucking it into your bra. the bouts of gasps that broke out was what gave you the push to meet namjoon’s gaze with a blank one and shrug, “what? i went through all the trouble to get you to sleep with me and put up with dating you for six months - i should at least get my pay,” murmurs echo through out the room as well as several ‘ooh’s at the revelation.

the man’s face had turned several shades darker. eyes trained on you like you were all he sees. like a predator to his prey. once upon a time, you might have found the way he was so rapt with something heartfluttering - attractive even as you sat at the bleachers, cheering on your secret boyfriend whilst he instructed his team through the mic. circuit breaker had never came out anything but victorious when kim namjoon was that focused. 

if only looks could kill, you’d be dead. 

“that’s right, it was just a bet we made in first year,” jeongyeon’s tilted crimson smirk had been tucked with something like wicked humor as her shoulder line jolted with her laughter.

first year, you were that lost kid who bent over backwards to be everyone’s friends and ended with none. namjoon knew that, like how he knew this was all a lie and yet perhaps that was why you could almost picture the brood of clouds looming over his head. the same look that would settle over his face as he shifted through courses of action to take for that one possible outcome that lead to circuit breaker’s victory.

your heartbeat stuttered when he began to stand straighter, arms crossed over muscled chest. his naturally tall stature had allowed him to look down on you like gum under his shoe, “quite pathetic that she had to beg to win a bet.”

the ground opening up and swallowing you whole right then and there had remained but a wishful thinking. the seconds seemed to stretch on for hours on end with gazes burning right through your skull. you could almost hear the ghostly whispers of “oh my god,” “who does she think she is?” “what a slut.”

“wasn’t that like a year ago?” somewhere from your other side, a snicker hit the air like a mockery and a hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a familiar scent of lemongrass and musk. how your own arm went around his to side hug his waist had been a surprise to you too, the action was as natural as breathing.

“i mean,” jungkook drawled with a shrug, “kinda sad that you’re still hung up over a girl but i get it - i know how amazing ____ is,” with a slight lean towards the older man, the low murmur couldn’t have been any louder, “we did it on the side of the street once,” a gasp from the ever loyal audience, “the balcony,” another gasp, “under a bridge,” there isn’t any more gasps - the audience must have ran out of responses, “in the changing room,” just when you thought he was going to spell out every single spot you had sex at on the list, jungkook finally laughed, “honestly any place you can think of - but yeah, keep dreaming about the back room of the student lounge cause that’s probably the most adventurous a dude like you would ever be.”

the shock painted over jimin’s jaw drop, jisoo’s eyes glancing from left to right, jeongyeon’s pursed lips and muted whistle didn’t exactly go past you. but you were more focused on the way the man in front of you, the one you thought you gave everything to, was the one speechless between the two of you.

the smile you wore was a lazy one but the words you threw back at him didn’t bloom in your chest with satisfaction of retribution the way you thought they would, “get over it, namjoon.”

in hindsight, you should’ve known it would come back and bite your ass. but you didn’t think the reaction would be this immediate. by monday morning, you were already getting strange looks and one not-so-pleasant experience of hearing snide laughter as you passed a group of students with the faintest but clearest, “what a whore.”

by noon, your reputation was pretty much set in stones - though your closest friend circle tried to convince you that it wasn’t as bad as it seems. that was, until another group of students walked into the cafe and most of them kept glancing at you like you’re some wild animal in a zoo.

“oh!” you could almost see a light bulb going off on jeongyeon’s head - as though a thought just crossed her, “i forgot what i came here for but anyway, i got tea!”

“girl,” lisa raises her brows with an obvious ‘what-are-you-waiting-for’ smile, “spill.”

and from the way way everyone else is quiet but focused on the woman, including you, it’s safe to say lisa’s words spoke for all of you. knowing that she holds the sole attention of the people at the table, jeongyeon smirks playfully, “guess what?”

“what?” taehyung says plainly.

“you’re supposed to guess, idiot,” she rolls her eyes but recovers from the brunette’s lack of effort as she basically bounces in her seat like a ball of excitement, “kim namjoon got kicked out of circuit breaker! the dean himself had a ‘little word’ with him. just. now.”

it would have come off as a pleasant news - cheer-worthy even. if not for one simple fact: that the dean is none other than jimin’s mother.

“oh my fucking god, yes!” lisa yelps, while jisoo extends her arms across the aforementioned woman to reach for the giggling man on her other side, “come here, let me hug you park jimin!” since it’s a round table, it makes the notion of hugs more plausible but since lisa is sitting between them, she ends up sandwiched with jisoo’s arms around her and jimin leaning into her in order to let the rest of jisoo’s arms encase around his neck.

“to be fair, he got kicked out because he and tae got in a fight,” the bleach blond man chuckles, “so tae’s punishment is being professor yoon’s unpaid assistant.” the position doesn’t seem ideal but the three doesn’t seem to mind - they look like they enjoy it.

“it was worth it,” taehyung shrugs when he catches your eyes, knowing full well the wave of guilt that rushes through you so instead, you mouth him a ‘i owe you one.’

by the time lunch ends (for you and jimin at least since the others seem to have another free hour before their classes start), you find yourself taking up jimin’s offer to sit with him at the back instead of the fifth row from the front that was just perfect for a not-so-serious-but-not-so-laxed-student vibe. 

“hey, jimin - thanks,” you say in between the class filling up and him texting someone on his phone which he puts down on the table after your words of gratitude fill the air, “for talking to your mom for me.”

“that’s the least i can do,” he fixes you with a half-hearted smile - probably wishing he’d be able to throw a punch where it was needed but you know park jimin wouldn’t be park jimin if he wasn’t this adorable, good natured person with the kindest heart that could barely hurt a fly let alone a person. even if that person is a douchebag like namjoon, “‘sides, mom’s always preaching about equality for both genders and kim basically sexually harassed you, i’m sorry i couldn’t stand up for you like tae-“

“no, don’t say that,” you frown, hands tugging on his biceps. slipping your around the aforementioned biceps, you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the rising tension of your pursed lips, “everyone has their own friendship language - and finding a peaceful way to get back to someone who hurt your friend, is yours. so thank you for being you,” you pause just for the briefest moment when you accidentally meet the eyes of one of your friends - the flash in their eyes projecting their not-so-friendly thoughts at the sight of you, “thanks for being my friend, jimin.”

 something soft bumps the top of your head as you feel his neck crane briefly, “thanks for being my friend too- jisoo would beat your ass for saying this though.”

at the mention of the spirited friend of yours, you both break out into fits of giggles. “jisoo would probably buy chicken tie my to a chair while dangling a drumstick until i promise to stop saying ‘weird things.’”

by ‘weird things’ it meant thanking them or even projecting any form of gratitude which shouldn’t even be a thing to be grateful for because, as she would aggressively yet lovingly insist, and as jimin acts out, “she’d probably be ‘it’s obvious we’d be friends because you’re the baddest bitch - girl, you’re that bitch.’”

it’s even funnier when he tries to mimic her way of speech and tone. for a moment, as you continue to narrate what your two other best friends would have done in the setting, both of you laughing into each other’s faces, the watchful eyes don’t seem all that intimidating.

x

throughout the evening, you spend it with your friends. watching movies and sleeping over at jimin’s - since he’s the only one who owns an apartment and doesn’t have a cranky roommate, going to class with yesterday’s jeans and jimin’s stolen hoodies to which he looked slightly perturbed at the realization that that’s three hoodies he probably wouldn’t get back even though you promised to wash it and give it back. but he the matter seems to fly out the window once you stopped by mcdonald’s for breakfast.

you may or may not have neglected pending projects group work but your friends didn’t seem to care -jisoo and jimin were rushing to group meetings this morning but after lisa’s five minute therapy-esque session for you to stop apologizing for inconveniencing them when you thought they must have (they did) pushed back on a lot of plans just to spend time with you and make sure you’re okay, you’d finally turned the ‘sorry’s to ‘thank you’s.

it was some time when you were walking to a class you shared with taehyung, that his looming frame easily catches what exactly you’re doing on your phone and begrudgingly points out, “ugh, you’re still texting him? after promising you’ll choose yourself first?”

to be fair, it was a short and sweet text saying ‘hey, i’m fine. sorry i didn’t reply to your texts, just have a lot going on atm’ without any emojis but also no period at the end because you didn’t want to seem like you’re mad. but besides that, you’re not entirely sure what exactly you feel for jungkook because like taehyung said-

“he‘s a different kind of asshole,” his tone was light but if there’s anything a whole year of knowing kim taehyung did, it was catching onto the way his voice strains and his avoidance to look at you as he speaks, “does he even know what he did to you? what you’re going through right now?”

it was true that the after effect of jungkook listing out the places you both had sex at has finally come to bite you in the ass. but-

“nobody would’ve thought the things jungkook said would backfire like this,” and yet you tug on the sleeves of jimin’s hoodie, voice small.

the man’s abrupt stop forces you to stop too, leaving you no choice but to meet his frowning face, “everyone knows what stuff like that’ll do more to girls than guys.”

it’s the pause that you took. the hesitance that taehyung must’ve seen shining brighter than your reputation allows it.

“you know what- do whatever you want,” and with that he leaves you on the side of the corridor to stare at his broad back as he walks away.

there’s no way you’ll go up and sit with him at the back like you did with jimin. but it wasn’t the empty spots next to you that made your heart clench - it was the way he deliberately turned away from you when your eyes met as you entered and he took a seat.

it’s some time after the professor left the class, whilst your phone vibrates rapidly with onslaught of messages, do you finally pick it up with one goal in mind.

koo: oh okay

koo: hope you’re doing okay

koo: i’m here if you wanna talk

he hasn’t finished typing when you tap out a simple ‘sorry’ and switching to-

you: thank you really but i think it’s better if we don’t text anymore

only to see another blue bubble pop on the screen at the same time as yours.

koo: i miss you

x

by the end of the very, very, very long day, you’re finally able to throw yourself onto your soft plush bedsheets. your friends don’t know that taehyung’s mad at you and isn’t talking to you - his sporadic off-days being the reason for them to assume that this is one of those days.

and they didn’t really push you to talk either, choosing to give you space after they robbed you off yours by kidnapping you to have a best friend’s night last night.

much to your dismay, not even five minutes into melting into the comforts of your bed, your stomach starts growling like a wild animal that hasn’t been fed in weeks. despite distantly remembering finishing the last pack of ramen last week, you still drag your feet to the kitchen in search for a instant noodles that, after opening the cupboard, you confirm, isn’t there.

and that’s how you end up trudging down the streets with flip flops and hair poking underneath the hood of jimin’s hoodie. a surge of gratification shoots through your veins when you see the last cup of your favorite spicy ramen on the shelf. not bothering to go back, you take a seat at one of the high stools facing the wall-sized window after paying for it.

it takes a few texts and scrolling through instagram before the ramen is ready. but it’s jeongyeon’s panic-induced tone that takes up most of your time.

jeongyeon: ok so ik you’re gonna be mad at me but pls don’t be 

you: what issit tho 

jeongyeon: you gotta promise 🤙

with a growl of your stomach demanding to be fed, you place your phone down with a misspelled loophole ‘yea i pro mizz 🤙🤙🤙’

and if getting a certification as your faculty’s resident hoe isn’t enough, in that moment, with ramen dangling from your mouth and puffed cheek, your eyes stops on a brunette boy who stops dead in his track when he sees you.

somewhere on the smooth surface of the table, your phone vibrates with a pop up notification.

jeongyeon: ok so jeon jungkook texted me about you and i kinda told him he should ask you himself but then i thought it kinda indicated that something’s wrong 

another ping.

jeongyeon: i didn’t tell him anything else tho!!!

x

“i don’t know what to say - i’m sorry, didn’t think it would be this bad,” jungkook confesses, head hung low, hair hiding most of his face and disallowing you from reading his emotions.

after jeongyeon ominously told jungkook to ask you about why she can’t tell him anything about how you’re doing now, jungkook had rushed to your place because it was obvious that his texts would be left on read, “maybe i should’ve taken it for what it is but i-,” he’d stopped short of what he wanted to say before he’d met your gaze with wishing stars in his eyes, “i just needed to see you and make sure you’re okay.”

“it’s not,” you admit, “most of the time they just look at me like i’m some animal in the zoo but sometimes it still gets to me.”

“you didn’t seem like the person who would care,” he says smally, almost as though it wasn’t meant for you but for himself.

you want to laugh, “that’s cause that’s what half-drunk me is most of the time and you’ve only ever known her - but on campus, i’m that girl who walks in the hallway with her head down and wanna be as invisible as i can... because i hate conflicts and being seen means i’ll most likely get into some shit... like i did with namjoon.”

kim namjoon saw you when no one else paid attention. mostly because the outstanding ones in your batch were taking the spotlight in freshmen year. the positions became apparent a little over two weeks after the first class. and you were still wondering around, in search for like minded beings. instead of finding friends, you found a god.

or so what they call a once in a lifetime genius.

“yea- i don’t really know you,” if it isn’t for the way his head snaps your way and the heartbreaking strain in his voice, you would have had a better time holding out, “i don’t even know what your favorite color is but i promise i’ll never hurt you like he did,” when he meets your gaze, all control seem to seep out of you and all you want is to take everything back

“i’m sorry- i just- it’s stupid, cutting you off just ’cause of that-“ the sound chains of the swing echo into the chilly night air as you prop your elbows on your knee, torso bent forward while you cup your face with your hands, maybe if you rubbed hard enough the stupid will come off, “i know it’s nobody’s fault but then there’s tae and he was the only one who thought i should stop talking to you- but he’s also the most reasonable person in our friend group and i-“ you almost choke on pure air, “i’m sorry.”

and so you end up at a park a few blocks away, you choosing to sit on the swing whilst he leans against the monkey bar a few feet away.

“it’s not okay,” jungkook’s voice fills your ears - he doesn’t sound as mad as you thought he’d be but his words say otherwise.

until you hear the scrape of soles on dirt. and just as you thought he was leaving, a hand lands on your knee, “but i forgive you.”

the smile you see when you peek through your fingers is familiar. boyish like its owner but endearing all the same,“and nothing that makes you feel like your peace is disturbed, is stupid,” but then the smile down turns into a frown, eyebrows knitting together, “i just wish you told me so you didn’t have to go through this alone.”

“i wasn’t alone - i had my friends,” it’s right after the words hit the air and a flash of disappointment crosses jungkook’s eyes, do you belatedly realize that you were indirectly calling him a non-friend.

“right,” the smile he fixes you breaks your heart - even more so when you see how he’s struggling to be happy for you whilst pushing down the hurt in his eyes, “that’s great - it’s great that you weren’t alone.”

or someone outside of your exclusives-only circle. well, he was - he isn’t exactly someone you’d befriend like you would your current friends. but it must have sounded like he was demoted to a friend who you say hi’s to and don’t share personal hardships and happiness with.

“yeah,” you echo in agreement before biting your bottom lip, gaze switching from his hand to his arm and finally his deep brown eyes that appear hazel underneath the light of the lamppost, “can we still be friends?”

the short but straightforward, “no” on jungkook’s part echoes in the air.

it takes a moment for you to register the two-letter word, as if it’s the hardest to fathom and before you know it, your jaw is on the ground, after a surprised, “what-”

in all honesty, you were the one who wanted to cut jungkook off from your life - for an absurd reason at that - but still, with how he patiently listened to you and even forgave you, you thought he’d at least want to stay friends. maybe he doesn’t want to be that kind of friend anymore. or maybe he doesn’t want to be your friend if you’re not that kind of friends anymore. maybe-

“i don’t wanna be just friends,” the confession falls out from his lips when you least expect it. almost as though you weren’t the only one who could read the other like an open book.

but despite his confidence the first time, you still see the traces of hesitance in the way he takes a moment longer to continue, “i... i want to know you- not the drunk you, not the campus you, but you you.”

this time, you can’t control the trickle of laughter that tumbles out of your mouth. it’s dry and a little bit broken, but still comes from a humorous place, “you’re probably gonna be disappointed as hell.”

“is that a yes?” the flash of starlight in jungkook’s eyesmile causes your heart to swell with a sort of fullness. the chains clink into the air as he grips it with his hands, using them to hoist himself up - but he doesn’t stand straight. instead,he leans his forehead on yours, “say yes.”

the smile that slips on your face is involuntary. completely out of your control as you affirm, “it’s a yes.”

x

“so is that tae’s hoodie?” jungkook asks as you walk down the street to your apartment.

the “what?” that slips out of your mouth is more surprised than anything else but it seems like that’s what made the man rush out his explanation - which he didn’t really need to but you appreciate it anyway.

“it’s just- you’re not a hoodie girl,” you don’t miss the way he scrunches his nose as he struggles to find the proper words, you think it’s cute - you think jungkook’s cute, “you’re more like a sweaters girl - or like, that’s what i see you wear in the morning before you kick me out.”

chuckling, you relieve him of his curiosity with a “no, it’s not tae’s.”

he beams at you like a morning sun until you add, “it’s jimin’s.”

“o-oh,” he nods but doesn’t press on.

“he’s also one of my best friend - they dragged me to movie’s night and we crashed at jimin’s last night,” you say.

“oh.” the pearly whites peek from underneath his lips again, eyes lighting up like stars.

but then, before you know it, you’re standing at the entrance of your apartment. 

“thanks for walking me home,” on your part, you don’t really want to part.

“yeah, no problem,” if you didn’t know any better, jungkook’s foot scuffling against the dirt doesn’t really give off a willing farewell vibe either.

until you both blurt out at the same time-

“do you wanna come in?”

“i mean it when i said i missed you.”

an echoing silence settles between you for the longest moment - or in fact, just a second too long but with all that’s happened and the friendships you can see breaking, jeon jungkook’s is one you’re not going to let go that easily.

not again.

“come inside,” you say.

and this time, you’re not asking.

x

 jungkook’s breath is hot against your neck as you groan from the impact of your back and head hitting the door as soon as it closes, his hands under your thighs.

but you’re fast to recover, hands snaking up his chest until they reach his strained jawline, tilting his head and forcing him to look at you, “show me how much you missed me.”

 a familiar glint flashes across his eyes at your challenge before his gaze falls to the borrowed deep blue hoodie you have on, “take that off. now.” 

deciding against taunting him some more, you pull the piece of clothing over your head before dropping it next to the can of beer, snacks and energy bars you bought from the convenience store.

it doesn’t take much for you to lean into him enough not to let yourself topple over backwards - maybe it’s the hundreds of times he’s carried you like this, maybe he’s the only person you trust to grab you by the bottom of your ass and you’d instantly know where to wrap your legs around. 

or maybe, just maybe, you missed jungkook too.

but either way, you kiss him once after he slams you against your bed. you kiss him a few more times as he slides in and out of you like every crevice of your core is made for him. you’re in the middle of kissing him when he hits ghat sweet spot that gets you moaning mid-kiss. he doesn’t seem to mind as he bites your bottom lips, letting you ride your high whilst he dedicates himself to you. to your pleasure.

and you kiss him when he thrusts deep into you as you both reach a different kind of euphoria together, holding each other tightly as if the other would fade if you didn’t.

since your bed is a single bed and you were occupying most of it, you have to scoot to make space for an extra person. you let him have the pillow while you keep your head raised midair until he slips his arm under it, his other hand pulling your back against his front before he pulls the cover over you.

the digits in the corner of your phone tells you that you’re probably going to end up rushing to your 8 am tomorrow but at the moment, with the moonlight pouring through the window and a distant sound of cars in the main street filling the room, there’s nowhere you’d rather be than right here.

“it’s orange - my favorite color is orange, like the sunset,” you’re pretty sure your voice is half-slurred from the fatigue of the day creeping up to you, but jungkook surprisingly heard it right because-

“we should go sunset watching someday,” he suggests.

“mhm,” you hum, not opposed of that idea at all, “what’s your...” you drag out, shifting through words until you find the one you’re most curious about, “favorite dessert?”

“besides you?” he chuckles when you let out an involuntary gasp at his insinuation before humming in contemplation, “ice creams.”

“are you free this sunday?” you ask.

“yeah, why?” his voice is laced with a hint of wonder.

“let’s go to an ice cream parlor,” by now, you’re pretty sure he barely understands what you’re saying as your eyes begin to droop, “let’s do things people do outside of parties - i wanna get to know you, koo.”

for the longest moment, you thought it’s him that’s fallen asleep because of the lack of affirmation. 

that is, until he murmurs with the smallest voice, “yeah, i’d like that.”

x

you wake up to the sound of your daily alarm blaring across the room. but much to your dismay, when you slip your hand under the pillow -  which unnaturally becomes a texture of spiky but fluffy treads - you come to a morbid realization that isn’t there.

which means wherever your gosh darn phone is, you’re going to have to find it to hit the snooze button because you can’t sleep with that deafening noise but if you do get up, you won’t be able to fall back asleep.

that is, until a different kind of sound, one that knows your name, grumble out a, “___, turn that shit off,” while a hand band around your waist, pulling you into a whole body.

for the briefest moment, you forget about the sound, heart skipping a dangerous beat as your mind shift through your memories, searching for something you can use for a self defense before it finally settles down with a realization that the only other person who could be complaining about your alarm because they were in bed with you, is jeon jungkook.

“god damn it,” you grumble with eyes barely open and mind half-awake while you pick up each article of clothing that are strewn across the room, “where did you throw my phone, jungkook?”

the man in your bed slurs out some incomprehensible words, leaving you with nothing but your wits and your wills and a little bit of urgency because your roommate may not be home most of the time but she definitely is in the morning. her schedule is more unpredictable than yours.

after a good one minute, you finally found your phone not on the floor but under the sheets right next to jungkook’s thigh. considering you spent a good chunk of your remaining sleepiness looking for it, you’re now out of the sleep essence and wide awake.

it looks like you caused quite a stir. jeongyeon’s text alone amounts to 36 notifs while each of your friend private messaged you an average of 5-12 texts each. the lowest being jimin and lisa who teetered on the line of ‘hey jeongyeon told me’s and ‘text me when you see this’ while jisoo’s are full out capsing and taehyung is a mixture of jimin and lisa with a missed call.

but what you don’t expect to see among the pile of notification, is the one pushed to the bottom by your friends’.

“oh, wow, kim namjoon texted me,” you blurt out, not knowing that a slip of tongue would cause a burst of reaction from the sleeping male in your bed.

shooting up with the sheets still covering his head, he yanks them down and fixes you with a wide-eyed, disbelieving gaze, “kim namjoon what now?”

it takes you a moment to digest the fact that he couldn’t even form a proper sentence or even grope around on the bed to help you look for your phone yet a single name and a verb could literally shock the sleep out of him. but you’re not one to hold onto grudges so you casually say, “he texted me.”

when you don’t offer anything else, the man finally asks, “well... what did he say?”

“’hey,’“ you echo the one worded text before slinging your towel over your shoulder.

“and?” hurried steps follow you into the hallway, an awkward ‘don’t-look-pressed’ laugh accompanying them, “...what did you say?”

“why?” you turn around abruptly, almost causing your follower to run right into you before he quickly halts himself, eyes slanting to the wall as he scratches his unclothed chest.

“i- uh, i don’t know - just curious i guess,” he mumbles out.

at that, the chuckles you’ve been holding back spills out of your mouth like waterfall. he opens his arms for you when you slip yours around his waist, locking your hands on his back, “i didn’t reply but if i did, it’s probably to tell him to stop texting me.”

the heartwarming ‘oh’ that tumbles out of his mouth is followed by a tuck in the corners of his lips, doe eyes filling with a sort of heat that makes your heart skip a beat.

that is, until fear flashes across his face, “wait, what time is it? don’t you have 8 am’s on tuesdays? i should leave-”

“nah,” you shake your head, a smile making home on your lips, “i’m skipping. you wanna get breakfast at mcdonald’s?”

instead of an affirmation, jungkook’s panicked face turns to a frown, hands coming to cup your cheeks as he twists it from left to right, as though looking for something and you know why-

 “who are you and what have you done to sober ___?” he demands.

laughter trickles out of your mouth as you struggle to get out of his grasp while he demands you return you back, “___ would drag my ass to the door at ass crack o’clock when she has 8 am’s. bring her back!”

but in your fit of giggles and his exorcist-esque shouting, jungkook stops and pecks you on your mouth, “just kidding,” you don’t think you can ever get used to that boyish smile of his, “i would love to have our first sober date at mcdonald’s.”

as if a giggle switch has been switched on, you laugh some more, cheeks hurting and tears pooling in the corner of your eyes at the way he makes it sound like you’re asking him to a date.

and you’re not quite against that idea.

x

so you find yourself at the mcdonald’s five minutes away from your campus. if you have any fucks at all to give, you would be worried about meeting your casual friends. but something about jeon jungkook and your friends’ - your real friends - endless support from yesterday has turned you into a woman of steel. or, really, just mixed party-you and sober-you together.

“apparently he wants to get back together because he thinks it’ll help fix everything but i know he just wants to save his ass - oh, did you know the dean, jimin’s mom, kicked him out of circuit breaker?” you casually say before chugging on your coffee before the sound of someone choking a whole lung drums in your ears.

turning to you with flushed cheeks and post-lung cough, jungkook demands, “you can’t just dump things like this on me- you gotta give me a warning first.”

“i did,” you counter, and just as his face spells ‘when?’ you quickly add, “at home - when i said kim namjoon texted me.”

“babe, that was 30 minutes ago,” jungkook says, in a matter-of-factly.

but all you hear is the name he calls you, “i kinda like that.”

he smiles shyly but still say, “what? babe?”

“yes,” you place your phone on the table, forgetting the open text as you lean closer to jungkook before enunciating the word “babe?”

his hand finds its way to your chin while yours slip underneath his shirt as he guides your face to his lips. but just before you’re about to kiss, the sound of voices - familiar ones at that - pour into the otherwise quiet vicinity. drawn by your curiosity, you tilt your head just the slightest bit to peak at the newcomers when you feel the heat of pairs of eyes burn into your head.

“shit,” you blurt out.

x

“oh my god,” jisoo gasps while lisa lets out a muted whistle, murmuring a “whew, chile, the audacity of some men.”

jeongyeon snickers as she leans away from lisa who’s holding your phone with namjoon’s text open, “i know what’s going on,” she waves a hand gun at you, “you’re doing great now and he’s sad and lonely-”

“or he wants to show the dean you guys made up so he can get into circuit breaker again,” taehyung chimes in, leaning against the chair, volunteering to pick up everyone’s order from the counter, “you know, just a thought.”

“no, no, no,” lisa interjects, “it’s more than just that with these men - he wants you to think that he’s the only one that can... ‘save’ you.”

“from what?” jimin asks, innocent round eyes looking around until jisoo sighs.

“god, jimin, it’s obvious,” she fixes him a pointed look, “___’s being labelled a manipulating bitch,” she turns to you and winks, “which you aren’t, manipulating - mean but a bitch? yes, and the baddest,” and then she shifts her attention to jimin, “and he’s saying if she gets back with him, he’ll ‘clear things up’ because apparently people tend to take men’s words more seriously than women and he knows that.”

“word,” lisa shakes her head.

“but ___’s not gonna get with namjoon because she has a jungkook,” jeongyeon’s proclamation isn’t entirely baseless yet the way all eyes turns to you tells you that it’s not exactly an established fact - especially when everyone at the table knows that you were ghosting jungkook just yesterday.

“i mean,” jungkook begins from next to you, fidgeting in his seat but avoiding your gaze when you turn to him, “___ can do whatever she wants.”

a pregnant silence lapses between you as you feel your friends exchanging dubious looks with each other. taehyung’s disapproving frown is the hardest to miss because it must have come across as jungkook not being serious enough with you.

but knowing the aforementioned man and how he never assumes your needs and wants - unless you’re having sex because he knows exactly how you like it - you know he doesn’t want to pressure you to be with him.

“i’m not getting with namjoon,” you announce for yourself, shooting the him a smile just before taehyung leaves to get your food.

“i’ll go help tae,” and with that, you skip over to the taller man, catching onto jisoo’s interrogative “so, are you guys like, exclusive now?”

“hey,” you greet the man that’s about to lift the tray of cheeseburgers, drinks, apple pies and mcflurries.

he echoes your greeting with a passive one and you both walk to the chili counter in silence. when he sets the tray down, you’re already picking up one of the tiny paper cups, “so, jungkook came and check up on me yesterday and stayed over to make sure i’m okay.”

he doesn’t need to know you had sex in between.

“he’s a really good guy - and he only said what he said just now cause he doesn’t want me to feel pressured to choose between being with him, or with namjoon or just being single,” you add when it doesn’t seem like he doesn’t have anything to say.

“i’m sorry for acting like a dick yesterday,” he finally breaks his silence with a one breathed sentence, his hand picking up the chili sauce filled cup off your hands.

and that’s when you see your opening, “it’s fine,” you quickly accept but stand your ground, “but jeongyeon also said something about a bet but you didn’t criticize her- i’m not trying to point out who did what worse but it looks like you’re more critical of jungkook because you don’t personally know him.”

“i thought i know a fuck boy when i see one,” he grunts like a sulking child.

“honestly, what does fuck boy even mean?” shrugging, you raised your brows at his okay-get-to-the-point look, “jimin’s kind of a fuck boy if you think about it but we love anyway.”

when he doesn’t seem to deny your allegations, you continue, “and if jungkook’s a fuck boy, then i’m a fuck girl because i-“

“uh,” he recoils like a teen getting sat down for the birds and bees talk,“okay, okay. i get it - spare me the details.”

rolling your eyes at his dramatic reaction, you end with a “see, name calling doesn’t make sense, not to mention hurtful to the person being called that name. they’re a a human being with feelings.”

it’s the ‘i know’ at the end that got him. even though he hadn’t seen you being taunted and ridiculed that day, didn’t mean it stopped. you were just good at masking it because you knew  better. knew that you had friends that would stand by you all the way - heck, jisoo even made a scene out of people looking at you the day before.

“i’ll try to not be so judgy,” taehyung announces before scrunching up his face, “but is him hanging out with us gonna be a permanent thing?”

“thank you for trying,” you fix him a proud smile as he picks up the tray to head to where the others are, “and he’s my friend too so yes, it’s going to be a permanent thing.”

“... say ‘cactus jack sent me’?” jeongyeon is in the middle of putting jimin up to walking over to the counter and saying the infamous line to the worker when you slip back into your seat.

“and travis scott’s burger,” and apparently lisa too.

jimin’s eyes disappear behind his lids as he chuckles at their attempts but he doesn’t exactly oppose the idea.

“hey,” jungkook’s eyes lights up when he sees you.

“so how was the interrogation session my girl friends?” you can’t help the devious grin that slips onto your face at the admittance that you may or may have not purposely left jungkook with your friends for the ice breaking slash interrogating session whilst you patch up your own friendship with your other friend.

“not bad,” he shrugs, “they even showed me your sleeping pics to scare me off but they forgot i wake up to that face almost every few days a week.”

at that revelation, your jaw drops to the ground, mind recalling the many times your open-mouth sleeping pictures have been sent into the group chat as a meme and it was not pretty.

“they did not,” your cheeks heat up as you make a mental note to gather everyone up and force them to finally delete that picture.

“don’t worry you’re not getting rid of me that easily babe,” unaware of the extent of the war raging inside you, he pecks your forehead and continues eating his fries.

x

“do i really look like that when i sleep?” you finally ask after clicking on the safety belt.

even though you could have rode with your friend in jimin’s car, jungkook insists to send you to class as a proper mark for the end of your first date.

“mhm,” jungkook hums casually as he turns on the car.

“and you still like me?” you’re not sure what kind of face you’re making but it has to be something between disgust and bewilderment because damn, he’s a real one.

“what?” he says between chuckles - as if he doesn’t see anything wrong with the picture and it makes your heart bloom with a sort of endearment while your core heats up with a sort of want.

throwing him a sly smile, you cock your head to the side, “get in the back.”

with a mixture of surprised and impressed blink, he doesn’t need to be told twice to unbuckle his seat and climb over to the back seat. long legs spread out to welcome you into his lap.

x

taglist: @gukksluv​ @illwritetomorrow​

shout out to my biggest bestest friend in me-loving baddest b @koochiekoo​ !!! highkey without you, i probably would take longer to finish but you’ve been super supportive and i love you so this fic is for you neinya!!!

note. the first part (friend in me) wasn’t showing up on searches no matter how many times i posted it and my earliest readers would remember it being called ‘to my dear friend’ before i changed it to fim bc i wanted to see if it’ll show up on searches but it didn’t. idk if this one will but i dont have much hope bc the preview also didn’t show up on searches (weird) but i have lost the rest of the f’s i have and decided to post this with a mindset that it’ll reach the right people though probably be less than 50 ppl. but i hope those who came this far enjoyed the fic!

[rocketink]

YOUR EYES TELL

In which you kiss Wonwoo twice at a party while getting over your ex and now you have a huge crush on him while you try to look for your soulmate. Or, your soulmate mark means how many times you’ve kissed them and now you have to ask your exes around while trying to accept there’s no way Wonwoo’s kisses have something to do with you.

Pairing: Wonwoo x gender neutral reader

Genre: angst + fluff

wc: 2.8k (I’m sorry I keep making them so long!!)

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and maybe a curse word around there + a very hateful ex that says mean things to y/n :(

notes: credits to tiktok for this type of soulmate!! I found it very interesting haha // mingyu’s minghao’s soulmate aus! I’ve been a little lost I’m sorry, I just need to find inspiration sometimes and I wasn’t feeling like writing:( also!! Shall I continue with soulmate aus or should I start thinking about the gossip girl series?

You still don't know what to do with the number two next to a pair of drawn lips that you can see on top of your head when you watch your reflection in the mirror. This can only mean one thing: you've kissed your soulmate two times. Your mother already warned you, this type of soulmate is almost exclusively from your family, and if your counter says 0 you're in a risky position because you don't feel like kissing random people in any place of their body until you find your other half. But when the day comes and your counter already has the number two in it, you feel nothing but relief. Initially, of course, because that could only meet one thing: you have already kissed that person, a low number of times.

You want to tear your hair apart before dialing Seungkwan. He would either make a big deal out of it or be completely chill and transparent. You don't know if you like what he could tell you, but you decide to take the risk.

"I've got some big news," you say right when he picks up.

"Oh really? Me too!" He seems happy today, that's good.

"On the count to three, we'll say what we have to say, okay?" Seungkwan hums in approval and you sigh.

"I got my soulmate mark today,"

"Vernon has finally asked someone out... WAIT, WHAT?"

"It's so good that Vernon has finally risked his life asking someone out! He still has all the parts of his body doesn't he?"

"Vernon's unlucky love life is not important now, tell me everything about your mark!"

So you tell him, knowing you can explain yourself to the fullest because Seungkwan is fond of details. You tell him how you almost fainted this morning, how glad you are for not having to kiss some stranger's ass, how unsure you are of your future right now and how you can't start the list of how many people you've kissed on your own.

"Let's make a list together, then!" Seungkwan's too giddy about this, he's teasing you, and you know it, "where should we start?"

"Jeon Jungkook."

"Wait, really?"

"Yep, the first year of high school was wild, not much kissing but it was there. Then there's Im Changkyun, but we were still too young so we didn't kiss much, we mainly held hands. And then there's..."

"Kyungho..." Seungkwan whispers his name as if it was forbidden, and you almost laugh at your friend's hatred towards your latest ex.

"Seungkwan, breaking up with someone because you are not compatible is not a bad thing."

"It's not. Doing it over a text message and two weeks after you started dating and then blocking you is."

"Yeah, right." Seungkwan's right, Kyungho was an asshole to you, he behaved like a kid when you were acquaintances and it didn't change when you began dating. Throughout your two weeks of relationship, you saw him like five times because he barely made time for you. You can't remember how many times you've kissed him, but you wouldn't be surprised if only two times happened.

"Aren't you forgetting someone?" You close your eyes. This is what you didn't want Seungkwan to remind you.

"Jeon Wonwoo," You say his name in a whisper and you're afraid Seungkwan hasn't even heard you, but he always does. "What happened doesn't count, he... is not available now."

"Y/n, the universe does not care if making out with Wonwoo one night counts or not, or if he's available or not. It happened, there's a possibility, it's there."

Seungkwan is, once again, right, but you don't want to be reminded of that night, or else your feeling for Wonwoo will hurt more than they do now.

It happened the night Kyungho broke up with you. Your feeling for Kyungho weren't the big thing, but you did spend your time and effort trying to make it work. You felt tired of giving and not receiving and ashamed of him being the one to break up with you and not the other way around. Seungkwan said Mingyu was going to a party with a few friends and he invited the golden trio (you, Vernon, Seungkwan) and he didn't let you complain.

You met Jeon Wonwoo at the party. You had seen him around campus a few times, in Mingyu's group of friends, he was incredibly eye-catching. That night, Mingyu introduced both of you properly and you don't know how you started talking. You don't remember much of that night in general, your brain preferred to forget all the traumatic experience of the breakup as the shots you took with Wonwoo kicked in (not many, but you were tired and they hit hard). What you do remember is pouring out your heart to a handsome stranger, him listening to you with beautiful eyes and speaking careful words. You remember kissing him first and Wonwoo following your lead. You remember him stopping you and you almost wanting to cry as you felt his touch all over your face.

"You just want revenge, Y/n. I can't give you that," you closed your eyes, you just wanted to sleep for a while. "Come to me when your head and your heart are completely sobered. Meanwhile, we can be friends." You nodded, a little ashamed. He gave you a sweet peck on the lips and a tight hug. When you got home and thought of what had happened that night, you knew your heart didn't need Kyungho anymore, your heart needed Jeon Wonwoo.

A few daws later, Wonwoo was seen around the halls with a beautiful girl by his side, too close to him, wishing for the same lips to kiss her as you had been kissed. You know from Mingyu that they lasted for two weeks, Wonwoo broke up with the girl, but Wonwoo told you he never liked break-ups. He must be feeling sad.

It's been two weeks ever since, and you are just like you were the first day.

"So your plan is talking to each boy, one by one?" Seungkwan raises his eyebrow. He's judging you.

"Yep, do you have anything better?"

"Are you asking if I have a plan that might not damage your integrity? I'm afraid I don't."

"Then shut up, when the time to find your soulmate gets to you I might not help you." He rolls his eyes and looks at the list you've made with the four names."

"And how are you going to approach them? Do you even know where they are?"

"Jungkook is friends with Mingyu, I'll try to talk to him without Mingyu knowing... Somehow. I still follow Changkyun on Instagram, that won't be hard. The only hard one is Kyungho, I don't know anything about him, thank God"

"And Wonwoo is the most approachable one, isn't he? Why don't you talk to him first?"

"No damaging my integrity is what we are looking for, remember?"

"I still don't understand why you don't want to talk to him. He is a nice guy, he'll be very chill about anything."

You almost tell Seungkwan that that's the problem. That night shouldn't have happened, not when you were heartbroken and Wonwoo was into someone else. Maybe that's the thing that hurt you, Wonwoo liking someone else and being heartbroken because of the break-up.

"I'd better talk to Changkyun now, the sooner the better, right?"

Talking to Changkyun was both a victory and a loss. He was a good friend of yours when you were younger and it's been a lot since you last talked to him. He wasn't weirded out by the sudden soulmate topic and instead he spoke freely about it, you suddenly remember how he had always been an open-minded guy. However, he had already found his soulmate.

You move on to the next person on your list almost immediately. Talking to Jeon Jungkook without Mingyu knowing was harder than you thought it would, mainly because you know nothing about him ever since he moved a few years ago, and you can't find him on Instagram or twitter. You know the only thing you can do is ask Mingyu directly, so you get Seungkwan to do it for you.

"Why do you want Jungkook's number?" Seungkwan looks at you after Mingyu pops out the question, you expected him to just give it to you, he is not the type to get into someone's business. He must be really curious.

"Just... Woozi told me... he's looking for a singer for his new song... Yeah... that,"

"Aren't you and Dokyeom his singers?"

Seungkwan looks uneasy. He is too honest, he doesn't like lying. He keeps on looking and you and you decide to help him help you because this is not looking good.

"You know how stressed he's being lately, Mingyu," You feel Mingyu's, Seungkwan's, and Wonwoo's eyes on you, "He thinks that trying a new voice will help him,"

"Then why isn't he asking me himself?"

"Mingyu, just give them Jungkook's number, it's not that deep," Wonwoo steps in "Excuse him, ever since he found his soulmate he is not as nice as he was."

Mingyu complies as his hyung tells him and you feel your heartbeat rising. You don't talk to Wonwoo a lot after that night so listening to his voice feels like reliving the events. Especially when his eyes don't leave yours, almost as if saying 'I know you're lying'. That night, he sends you a text

Wonwoo: Have fun with Jeon Wonwoo is typing... Wonwoo is on line

Whatever he was writing, you'll never know. You couldn't answer the text either

You don't know what's funnier, Kyungho trying to delete himself from your life or you trying to locate him back. Jungkook was not your soulmate. He actually gave up his soulmate life after a very tragic story with his supposed-to-be soulmate and now he dedicates his life to art, in any of the ways. It was a sad story, you cried like a baby at your situation and then at his while he laughed softly and told you soft thing like he always did. It was gratificating.

But now, your list only points towards one direction, and that is Kyungho's old working place, a café near some beautiful parks, and an outdoor basketball court Kyungho himself used to play in. He did a lot of things but being a good boyfriend or friend, actually.

You feel scared for a second 'will he be there?', 'How will he react?' 'What if he's my soulmate?' You stopped in your tracks. You didn't want to have such an awful person as a boyfriend. Great, another fear added to your list! But when you find the guts to come inside the café and he is right there, wearing the same clothes and same hairstyle he always had, you feel like ending all this as soon as possible.

His gaze changes when he recognizes you, surprised.

"Hi, Kyungho. I know you don't want to see me, but can we talk?"

"My shift ends in ten," he speaks after a few seconds "wait for me outside"

You do as he asks. For a second, you think he might run away through the back door or something, but he complies and meets you outside the café.

"What are you doing here?" Straight to the point, as he's always done.

You roll your eyes and he keeps a straight face.

"Have you found your soulmate?"

He laughs as if you had told the funniest joke.

"What now, baby? You want me as your soulmate so bad?" You want to slap him in the face.

"Just answer my damn question."

"Why do you think I left?" Your eyes go wide. Does this mean that he... You almost feel like crying, why does your soulmate have to be him and not Wonwoo? You shouldn't have, but you must admit you had gotten your hopes up for a second. "I'm joking! You should have seen your face!"

"So... No soulmate then?" You ask, pretending to find his joke boring when you're just furious.

"No, no soulmate Y/n. I feel nothing when it comes to you." Your hand moves faster than you think, and you surprise yourself when he grabs your wrist before your hand can reach his face.

"Nice try, Y/n. Maybe try again?"

"What if I do it for them?" You could recognize that voice everywhere. Kyungho turns around and there he is, Jeon Wonwoo. He is so close to Kyungho it's almost comical: Wonwoo is a bit taller, so Kyungho looks like a defenseless animal. "I play basketball nearby, you know? I wouldn't mind using you like a ball."

Kyungho is going to make another comment, you know that, but Wonwoo doesn't let him.

"Let's go, Y/n. We have better things to do." Wonwoo puts his hands in his pockets and begins to walk and you follow him, without looking back at a very scared Kyungho.

"Do you always go around asking exes if they've found their soulmates?" He asks and you blush.

"Not really"

"I'm guessing it was not just some random thought?"

You sigh, you didn't want to have this conversation.

"No. My soulmate mark has appeared and I had to do something about it."

"Oh, how random, mine has appeared too." You want to ask him directly about it, but you can't find your voice. "It's a number, what about yours?"

"A number too"

"That's nice!" He smiles sweetly, your heart is about to burst "Which number?"

"Two"

"Oh." He looks lost in thought for a second "Well, at least it's not Kyungho"

"Yeah, I don't even know why I dated him"

"I'm wondering the same thing. You deserve so much better," how can he be so chill about all this? All you can think is how he is the last person on your list.

"Jeon isn't your soulmate either." It wasn't a question, he was just confirming it.

"How do you know... about that?"

"I told you, Mingyu is not as nice as he was. He likes to gossip now, with his soulmate. Jungkook told him how he wished you found a soulmate who treated you nicely and how comforting he found your chic-chat"

That guy...

"I guess the universe thought I deserve something else, but what could be better than Jungkook?" You joke.

"Maybe try with another Jeon?" He chuckles when you don't answer him.

Does he know...?

"Aren't you going to ask me what my number is?" He knows.

"What is your number, Wonwoo?"

"Ten." What? If Wonwoo isn't your soulmate then... You will never recover from this low blow. "You seem surprised."

"I just- I thought that maybe... You know since that night... And I might be wrong but I'm sure I've never kissed anyone else apart from my exes and you... I'm sorry, I must have made this uncomfortable."

"Oh no, absolutely not" He is trying his best to stay calm, but you can tell he's a little nervous "so your soulmate mark is how many times you've kissed them?"

"Yeah"

"Mine too" Could this be possible? That much of a coincidence?

"That's... Curious, I think"

"It is." He is looking at you again with that look, the one that says 'I know everything about you even before you do' but this time you catch up.

"You think that we..."

"There's only one way to try."

When his lips meet yours just like they did that night, you find the same comforting feeling. It's like being pulled, like magnets. You feel safe.

And then you remember something you had forgotten about that night. You were feeling sad and tired, but Wonwoo's presence made everything better, your eyes were closed. You had kissed Wonwoo for the first time but then he cut you off and told you to come back when you were sober (but you were sober!). You thought he was caressing your face slowly with his fingers, trying to comfort you, but he actually gave you a kiss.

One on your right cheek, then another one on your left, then another one at the tip of your nose. His lips moved your jaw and placed a small kiss there, then on your chin and another one very close to your mouth and finally he planted a kiss on your forehead and you opened your eyes. He then kissed the back of your hand which made both of you laugh.

It is true that you kissed him two times, and it is true that he kissed you ten.

When you parted, a small eleven was placed on top of his head with a pair of drawn lips just like yours.

"I see a three there, soulmate." He pointed to the top of your head.

"And I see an eleven there, soulmate." You do the same thing he did. He hugs you "I'm so glad it's you, Wonwoo. You don't know how confused I was, I thought you were broken-hearted because of a break-up!"

"You just made that up by yourself! You should have asked me first instead of Jungkook or Kyungho."

"I know. I was scared you would end up being my soulmate but you wouldn't like me back"

"Y/n, I'm head over heels for you." You smile and he leans closer "You know what? I hate odd numbers."

"Me too."

He kisses you one more time.

[barzzal]

yay yay to wet weekends!! one thing i haven’t stopped thinking about lately is the idea of Sid being on a long roadie and calling/facetiming each other just to get off (maybe after a good game or randomly) because you’re both desperate but i can see it being sooo hot and yeah that’s that

warnings: nsfw (18+) light smut, sexual and suggestive themes, facetime sesh and toys!!

The two of you have been agonizingly quiet since Sidney finally got into bed after his evening shower. It had been a back to back loss in New York, having faced the Rangers, and he just couldn’t stand the thought of getting another once they play the Islanders tomorrow.

You rub your eyes, not wanting to fall asleep. Almost a week has gone since you last saw him and having to endure Sidney being away on the road has always been tougher for you than you’d ever admit.

“How was your day?”, asked Sid.

Despite being in a sour mood, you appreciate how he still doesn’t miss on the little things. You give him a smile in acknowledgment.

A tad sleepy, you tell him how your day went about. It was the middle of your term; almost nearing your finals actually. The week where all assessments are flowing into your mail endlessly to be exact. Some were reports— case reviews, court procedures, heavy readings, and all that goes under being in law school. You even remember that you have to practice for another mock session you were about to have as your final exam.

“Rough night, huh? Is there anything you want me to do?” you genuinely ask him, turning to Sidney’s side of the bed— absentmindedly running your hand through it. You miss him. It’s plain obvious.

“Nah. I’m good, baby.” he declines with a smile. You choosing to stay up late for him was already enough. 

“I just can’t wait to come home. This series is taking too much from the team.” he frets.

You let out a sigh, “I know you’ll pull through babe. You boys always have. Just think of it as like... a minor hiccup. A fluke, maybe?” you say, trying to make him feel better.

“Thanks, hon.” he smiles, a tired one however.

You fall silent once again, just in the calm of seeing each other on the screen when a thought hits you.

You perk up slightly, resting your back on the headboard, “Hey,” you softly call.

“Hm?” Sid hums, massaging his temples.

“You remember the black box I gave you for valentines?” you ask.

Sidney mutters a soft ‘yeah’ on the other line. 

“Well, I kind of snuck it in your suitcase.” you inform him. You prop your back with a pillow, biting on your lower lip as you send him the subtle insinuation. “You wanna?” 

Sid immediately answers, his tired voice now emptied and gone, “Right now?” 

You nod casually, evidently surprising the fairly old-school fella. “It’s been a pretty rough day for the both of us.” you add.

He’s flustered, but with furrowed brows he still finds the need to ask, “How– how are we even gonna do... it?”

A mischievous smile escapes your lips, “Wait a second.” you tell him as you hurriedly go over one of the dressers to get your half of the battery operated toy. 

Sid on the other end was now rummaging through his luggage. Most of his stuff was safely put away and hung in the closet of his hotel room so he didn’t have much of a hard time spotting the black box you were talking about. He also took with him the lube that was tucked under one of the compartments. 

Sidney can’t help but shake his head with a faint grin upon seeing how you managed to discreetly place such things exclusively for him. Well, not that anyone would dare look into his things but it was nice to think that you knew him well enough and surprise him. 

Sidney got under the covers first. “Babe?” he calls when he sees nothing but the white ceiling of your shared bedroom back in Pittsburgh. 

He hears a distant ‘Coming!’ on your end so he waits patiently for you to get back on screen. 

Once you do, Sidney’s mouth falls agape as he sees you out of your former nightwear. “You didn’t have to change for this, y/n.” he explicitly says despite the obvious bobbing of his throat. 

“Relax. I’m gonna take it off anyway.” you wink, coaxing him as you get comfortable on the captain’s bed.

You proceed on teaching him the basics since Sidney’s - well, pretty conventional to say the least. He has you to thank for getting him into new things such as this. You orient him on how the toys work and how it is connected with the toy you have with you at home. That said, the two of you would basically feel each other’s strokes and pulsations as you delve into your long distance affair. 

You were about to take your brassiere off when Sid stops you the minute your hand reaches to unclasp the material on your back, “Don’t take it off.” he says.

“Why?” puzzled, you ask him nonetheless.

“It’s just that - you know how the internet works.” Sidney hushes.

You let out a laugh, a cackle even. “You’re really bothered about the FBI catching an NHL star jack off to his girlfriend, aren’t you?” 

Sid rolls his eyes and dismisses your notion. “It’s not the FBI I worry about. We’ll never know. I just don’t want a perverted hacker to catch what I got on my screen.” 

“You do know that there’s always ways to deal with that right?” you say, foolishly finding Sidney being his usual self more alluring than when he tries to be sexy. 

“Will you please stop lawyering your way into this?” he chuckles in defeat, scratching  his temple. “Just keep ‘em on. Besides, I like that color on you.”

You roll your eyes, “Fine.” You fix your number so he could see more of you on the screen despite still being covered. “Now, may we proceed?”

Sidney bites his lip, “We may, your honor.”

He adjusts himself to get out of his boxer shorts. He squeezes a generous amount of lube into the toy waiting for you to do the same on the other end. You let Sidney watch you fill your fingers with your spit whilst you look at him enticingly; eager to have his skin next to yours. However, given the circumstances that come with being with him, a night like this shall suffice. 

“You’re a fucking torture,” he groans; one that’s effortlessly made your belly flutter as if Sidney’s muffled noises were enough to wake all your sleeping senses. 

With tired eyes you tell him one thing as the two of you slip on your devices, meeting in between your own ends in the hopes of coming close to what it’s like holding each other, “So are you, Mr. Crosby.”

it’s wet weekends!

[benedictscanvas]

all the wrong places [finale] - spencer reid x reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: It only takes a moment for Spencer to realise that he doesn’t just want to marry you someday, he wants to marry you as soon as he possibly can. But since he can’t come up with a solid plan, he turns to his BAU family for help in planning the most important day of his life so far. Is that a mistake? Most definitely.

Warnings: Series probably aren’t meant to be exclusively fluffy, but this one practically is! I need some fluff in my life, damn it! There may be some mention of regular Criminal Minds things, some language but mostly just good ol’ Spence lovin’

A/N: We’re finally here. It was so, so difficult to finish off a series so long in the making, so I truly hope I’ve done it justice for everyone. As always, I love you all dearly, and thank you for all your support on the series and beyond. Enjoy <3

---

Chapter Seven

Spencer heard you slip out of bed earlier in the morning than you usually would, but still didn’t say anything. Even though he knew for certain that neither of you had slept at all, even though he wanted to just tell you that he would happily marry you tomorrow, even though lying next to you all night and trying not to cry had been torture.

He’d realised about an hour into his desperation that he wasn’t going to be able to simply turn over and explain himself, because you would think he was lying. How could he convince you that he wanted to marry you when his entire demeanour had suggested otherwise? He could show you the ring, but then he’d be proposing at two in the morning in your bed when the two of you were trying not to cry. That wasn’t the story he wanted you to excitedly relate to your coworkers, your family, your future children.

At the thought of your future children, he couldn’t help but begin his silent crying.

Now, tears long dried up as he’d stared blankly at the ceiling, he checked his phone. 5am. He could hear you rustling around getting dressed in the room next door. Quicker than he could comprehend, he heard the front door slowly click shut. You’d left already. Definitely didn’t want to hum along to your combined favourite playlist on the way to work this morning, then.

Knowing there was no point in lying there any longer, Spencer got up instead. When he trudged into the living room, rubbing his eyes, the post-it on the door almost made him lose his resolve not to cry again.

Thought I’d get an early start this morning, but I’ll leave you the car. I’m so sorry about last night, Spence. Love you x

He took a deep breath. He was proposing today, there was no doubt about that. He couldn’t let you go on a second longer without the knowledge that he’d been trying to propose to you for months and that he’d frozen because he had all these plans, terrible plans. He couldn’t just say yes when he wanted to show you just how much he wanted to marry you.

He picked up his phone, thinking about which of his friends would be able to help him most. There wasn’t much of a contest, since only one of them would already be up and therefore not too mad at him for calling at such an unsocial time.

“JJ? Can I come over?”

---

“Oh, Spence,” JJ sighed knowingly after Spencer had recalled the events of the previous evening with precise accuracy. They sat at her kitchen table, with Will looking after Henry elsewhere in the house, “You didn’t say anything?”

“I panicked, JJ, you know how much I’ve put into this. I didn’t know how to fix it, but I also couldn’t have just agreed to marry her right then and there when I’ve spent so long trying to make this proposal perfect.”

“I know, I know. This is going to take a lot of fixing though, Spence, if Y/N thinks you don’t want to marry her.”

“I know! That’s why I’m proposing today, no matter what happens, I’m not letting anything get in my way again.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? She won’t just think you’re proposing because you feel guilty?”

“Not if I explicitly tell her that’s not the case,” Spencer reasoned, and though JJ still looked unsure, she conceded with a half-smile.

“Okay, Spence, what do you need from me?”

“Not much. I just need you to keep everyone away from the break room for a while.”

“You’re proposing in the break room?” She asked, only a little incredulous. He rolled his eyes.

“It’s where we first met, JJ, that has to count for something.”

You were making the first round of coffee for everyone on your first morning. It felt like the right thing to do to get off on the right foot. When Spencer had come in to make his own, you’d insisted on making it for him too and he’d stood there awkwardly as he committed every plane of your face to memory. It didn’t take him long, roughly the same time it took him to fall madly in love with you as he added more sugar to the coffee you’d made him without thinking and you had grinned up at him without a word.

“Alright, alright,” JJ held her hands up in surrender, standing from the kitchen table as she glanced at the clock on the wall, “You’ve been here for hours Spencer, we’ve got to get going.”

Spencer nodded, feeling the bile rising in his throat. The ring box was in his pocket now because feeling the weight of it was the only thing keeping him grounded. The two of you never argued, not that this was an argument, but you never didn’t talk. It felt wrong, not kissing you awake this morning, not squeezing your hand as the two of you ate breakfast.

These were the things he wanted to do for the rest of his life. With you.

---

When Spencer and JJ stepped out of the elevator, later to work than they should’ve been, they caught a glimpse of everyone in the office suddenly turning back to their work. Spencer swore he saw Hotch turn on his heel and practically speed walk back towards his office. They opened the glass doors and both stared out at their colleagues suspiciously.

Spencer’s first thought was that Y/N was nowhere to be found, but JJ’s was clearly very different.

“Alright, what’s going on here?” She said instantly, despite the fact that no one was looking at them. Practically the whole team turned towards her with guilty looks on their faces, with Rossi appearing from a hiding spot behind Spencer’s own desk, “What are you all hiding?”

“Look, we were supposed to do this far more subtly, but since Rossi decided to hide,” Derek glared at Rossi mid-sentence who looked suitably embarrassed himself, “Reid, you should go to the break room.”

“What? Why should I go to-“

“Spencer,” Emily spoke up with a hopeful expression, “Just go to the break room.”

He managed to catch on at that point. It was more than likely that this was where he would find you. Had JJ called ahead and told them to get you in there so he could execute his plan? He smiled at everyone for their cooperation and rushed off towards the break room to find you.

But when he looked in the small window on the door, he couldn’t even see you. He was really hoping this wasn’t some elaborate prank by Derek, because he wasn’t sure he could handle that with no sleep and his heart beating out of his chest. He opened the door regardless, because maybe he could wait for you in-

His small surprised inhale almost sounded like a gasp. You were in the room, right in front of him, with shining eyes and a smile that looked equal parts adoring and terrified.

And you were down on one knee.

His hand was frozen to the door knob. Feet glued to the floor. Eyes stuck on your face, flittering around those features he could recite by memory whether it was eidetic or otherwise. He still hadn’t moved, or spoken, or done anything and it was only when you were getting up and ushering him inside that he regained control over his body.

“Quick, close the door, I don’t want people listening to this,” you insisted quietly, bringing him fully inside the break room and closing the door behind him. He could hear you trying not to cry and it was jarring, “Derek will tease me for weeks. Months, even.”

And with that, you took up your position on one knee once again in front of him, getting down onto the floor with clumsy feet, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand as you took a deep breath. He knew to stay quiet for now.

“Okay, so, first thing you’ve probably noticed is that I don’t have a ring. I’m sorry. This was kind of spur of the moment, but if you say yes then Hotch said we could have the rest of the day off to go and find one for you, if that’s something you want-” you took another deep breath, this one out of necessity. It was hard to find time to breathe when there was so much you wanted to say all at once. His watery smile was prevalent as he reached out a hand and you took it in both of your own.

“Anyway, there’s more important things to say right now,” you continued, shaking your head, “I love you, Spencer Reid. In every way imaginable. More than even you could comprehend. You are everything. And I want to marry you desperately, not for ridiculous financial reasons, but because I want to be your wife. I said all that crap last night because I panicked. I want to be able to call you my husband and I want to have the same last name, whichever one we choose and I want to have a day where we celebrate just how amazing we are together.”

Spencer was definitely crying now, as were you, but somehow the shaky tone with which you said your words was only adding to how much you truly meant them. He didn’t have time to wonder how he managed to get so lucky, nor how he had messed this up so many times that you had felt the need to do it yourself. All he was thinking about was that he needed to make sure you knew how much he wanted this too, and quickly.

“Y/N-”

“One second, Spence, I’ve nearly finished I promise,” you insisted, and he wasn’t going to refuse you, silently rubbing soothing circles into your knuckles as one of his tears dripped down onto your joined hands, “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I want it to be immortalised on paper too, because we both love a document.”

He chuckled down at you disbelievingly.

“Doctor Spencer Reid, will you marry me?”

He took a deep breath and joined you on the floor, kneeling in front of you. He reached out with one hand to press his thumb to a tear on your face, not wiping away, simply savouring the feel of it against his skin. It didn’t take much to commit it, along with every detail of the moment, to memory.

“This is unconventional,” he mused, flicking his gaze all over your face, keeping his answer withheld just a little longer.

“Just because I’m the one proposing? I never took you for a traditional.”

“I was actually talking about us being on the floor of the break room at our workplace,” he explained, “Do you know how many people’s coffee we’re likely kneeling in right now?”

“I’m sure you could give me an unsurprisingly accurate estimate, my love,” you said kindly, with a patience he couldn’t understand, “But I’d much prefer you answer my question.”

He had been hoping you would say that, because it gave him the perfect opportunity to pull the ring box out of his pocket.

“Does this answer your question?’

Popping open the lid of the box and presenting the ring inside to you, he kept his eyes trained on your face to capture your reaction forever. It was better than he could have pictured. Sparkly eyes and shaking hands and sniffles and so much love.

“You just have that?”

“Have done for a while,” he admitted, closing his eyes for just a moment when you placed a careful hand on his face, “Been trying to do this for a long time, angel.”

The disbelief on your face is palpable, and he takes note of the fact that you’ve hardly even looked at the ring yet, your attention captured by him: only him. He’s never felt more loved. More whole.

“You have? I’m sorry I stole your thund-”

“No, no, never,” Spencer interrupted you, seeing the flash of guilt in your eyes even as you tried to hide it, “You could never. This just makes it better. You want to marry me enough to ask me twice?”

A wry smile from you is all the answer he needs. You answer him anyway.

“‘Course I do, baby.”

“Well then, since I want to marry you enough to have tried to ask five times,” he placed his own hand on top of yours on his face and nuzzled into it, ignoring your look of pure shock, “The answer is a yes.”

“To the original question?”

“And every other question that comes after it,” he confirmed and though you’re both still crying, your grins are lighting up the whole room, “What about you?”

“What about me?” you retorted, “I don’t remember you asking me a question, actu-”

“Will you marry me, Y/N?”

You were laughing through your tears now, at him, at the whole situation. He could feel the floor against his knees, the edges of pain creeping in as the two of you stayed on the floor for longer than you should have, but it wasn’t as if he wanted to go anywhere just yet.

“Oh, that question? Yeah, that’s a definite yes. A definite, absolute, no question about it-”

He cut you off again, but he didn’t feel too bad about it once your lips were on his and he was kissing you with everything he had in him. You may have been kneeling on the floor but his arms were around your waist, one travelling up your back and into your hair, keeping you as close as humanly possible. When he feels your hands in his own hair and your nails lightly scratching against his scalp he could swear that nothing in his life to come will ever come close to this feeling.

Then he remembers he’s going to have a wedding day with you in the not so distant future and if it’s even possible, he draws you closer. So close, with such fervour, that the ring box falls to the floor, utterly forgotten as a mere trinket in wake of the best moment of both of your lives.

He hears the door beginning to open behind him, even as he’s so focused on you in his arms, and he just knows that its the team, that they’ve been watching you silently this whole time. So, without much thought, his leg flew backwards behind him and made contact with the door, effectively shutting anyone and everyone else out of a moment that he needed to be just the two of you. It made a slight crashing noise, but when you tried pulling away, he only chased your lips until you were back together again and if the little sigh you gave him was any indicator, you wouldn’t be investigating the noise for just a little longer.

Whoever just tried to come in would be laying into him later, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

When you did finally part, with more reluctance than ever and heaving chests pressed against one another, you stayed close. Foreheads lightly grazing, breath intertwined along with your respective futures. He grabbed the ring box from the floor and opened it back up, taking out the ring with shaky fingers.

“May I?”

You merely giggle, leaning back away from him so that you could see his face properly as you wiggle your fingers in front of him excitedly. He takes your left hand in his tenderly and slides the ring on with a careful hand, kissing across your knuckles to seal the deal. When he looks back up, he sees your eyes have drifted behind him.

“Spence,” you say slowly, eyes trained on the door, “Did you kick the door shut when they tried to come in?”

He should have known you’d put it together when he stopped kissing you. Maybe he should never have stopped. That would solve most of his problems.

“He did!” an angry voice comes through the door, angry and loud and definitely belonging to Derek. Spencer finally turns, taking in the sight of every single one of his coworkers crowded haphazardly around the small window in the door to the break room, each in various states of happiness. There were even more tears outside the room than in it, with Penelope adding a significant number, but JJ, Derek and even Hotch were adding a few of their own to the count.

This time, when JJ pushed the door open, he didn’t shut it in her face, however much he still wanted to preserve his moment with you. When Garcia runs over and throws herself onto the floor to hug the both of you and the rest of the team follows suit, he supposes he doesn’t mind too much.

When he catches a glimpse of your face through all the hugging and you’re already staring at him, he decides he doesn’t mind at all.

---

“And the third time?”

“Ah, see, the third time is my personal favourite,” Emily said, trying not to join Penelope in her hysterical giggles at just the thought of the accidental flash mob she’d arranged, “Do you happen to remember when Penelope spotted Bruno Mars outside the building?”

Your brow furrowed and then there was clearly a moment when everything clicked in your head and your eyes widened.

“No! That was a proposal attempt?”

You were looking up at Spencer now and he just rolled his eyes good-naturedly, keeping his fingers entwined with yours over your shoulder. He had made sure that the pad of his finger was lightly pressed against the metal of the ring at all times during your engagement dinner, occasionally reminding himself of its shape with slow, deliberate strokes. A whole month since he’d put it there and still the feeling of it was electric each and every time.

“Not exactly,” he admitted, glancing at a still laughing Penelope, “Garcia ordered a flash mob, then forgot to cancel when I told her to, then saved the day with her quick thinking.”

You blinked.

“I”m sorry, what?!”

And soon Emily was launching into the full story, reminding you of the little details of the moment that you would have missed at the time, Derek chiming in too, if only to describe the varying degrees of panic on Spencer’s face. He was happy to sit back in his booth seat and let them tell it, if only because it gave him perfect opportunity to enjoy the story along with you, through your expressions and comments and persistent laughter.

Derek soon transitioned into explaining the very awkward moment with Emily on the jet, to which you were again shocked to hear how terrible everyone’s ideas had really been. You and JJ had already had a lighthearted argument about her terrible restaurant idea, although both of you were very clearly joking around.

“Hey, Reid,” Hotch said lowly, gaining his attention during the dinner when Dave was talking about the time after the bomber came into the police precinct a couple of weeks ago. Spencer turned to him at the head of the table, “I think it turned out perfect, in the end. I’m proud of you.”

“Even if I was beaten to it?”

Hotch chuckled, but placed a hand on Reid’s shoulder nonetheless.

“Even so.”

“Thanks, Hotch,” Spencer replied sincerely, really meaning it. Hotch gave him a single nod before retracting his hand and asking JJ to pass the garlic bread. The moment had been short, but Hotch being proud of him was something that he had always held close to his heart.

When he turned back to you, the botched proposal stories seemed to be coming to an end and in the momentary silence, you spoke up, one hand still entwined with his own but the other holding up your glass.

“I’d like to make a toast,” you said, encouraging everyone to raise their glasses with you, “Which may be unconventional, but it has to be said. I want to thank you all for coming here to celebrate our engagement tonight, but also for every bit of support you’ve all given us over the years. We love you and we couldn’t be more grateful, however terrible your proposal ideas might have been.”

A resounding laugh from everyone, and a protest from Dave who insisted that his advice was brilliant all along. Derek managed to silence him with just a look. They began to clink their glasses together, but you weren’t quite done yet, and Spencer knew it.

“Just before we toast, I’d also like to suggest that you all enroll yourselves on a profiling refreshers course, first thing Monday morning,” you paused for dramatic effect, soaking in the confusion from everyone at the table as Spencer just stared down at you in awe, the smile on his face unable to be contained, “Because the fact that none of you have noticed that I’ve not touched a drop of champagne tonight is a real embarrassment to us all.”

Silence. Gears clicking into place. Then - uproar.

Spencer sees the utter joy appearing on everyone’s faces and can’t help but lean into you, kissing your temple once, twice, three times. Before he can do a fourth, you’ve turned to him, your glistening eyes on his as you kiss him properly. He can’t help the hand that falls to rest on your stomach as he does so, overwhelmed with noise, laughter and so much love.

---

taglist (ily all <3)

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[jenoptimist]

you may have only gotten half a pudding cup but you got yourself a real life Disney Prince, so who’s the real winner?

✮ Pairing: kunhang x reader (gender neutral)

✮ Genre: fluff

✮ Word count: 5.8k

♡ Yakult says: hendery!!!!in!!glasses!!!!!!! pls i love him sm 🥲

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There was a phone number in you calculus textbook that you were one hundred percent sure you never wrote down. Not that you could, anyway, considering that it was a library book. Well, no, techincally you could write it in but you wouldn’t dare. The longer you stared at the handful of digits, the more you freaked out. You absolutely could not afford to be fined! The whole reason why you borrowed it from your college library was so that you didn’t have to spend money in the first place!

After gathering your materials and stuffing them into your bag, you hurriedly left your local library. You fished your phone out of your pocket, scrolled through your – admittedly pathetically short – list of contacts and called the person who you suspected wad the source of your small dilemma.

“‘Sup?” Yangyang greeted.

“Be honest with me,” you said seriously, immediately cutting to the chase, “were you the one who wrote the number?”

There was a beat of silence, and then, “what number?”

“You know,” you urged as you neared the apartment complex that the two of you lived in. “The one in my calculus textbook? I borrowed it from the college library and I don’t want to get into shit if they find it.”

“That wasn’t me!”

“Oh really?” You asked in disbelief as you hopped into the elevator and punched the number to your floor. After what you dubbed as, ‘The Spaghetti Incident of 2018’ you could never be too sure with him. When he replied that he didn’t, you asked him another two times. Throughout your friendship with Yangyang, you found that the trick to getting him to admit the truth was to keep badgering him until he either: got fed up or thought that whatever he did was no longer funny.

“I swear on my Hot Wheels!”

You hummed in consideration. His Hot Wheels collection was his utmost pride and joy - second only to his large sneaker collection - especially since he owned a handful of exclusive and rare ones. They were all displayed neatly on several shelves on one of the walls in his bedroom. They were even color coordinated and everything! Sometimes, when you went to offer him some food, you found him staring at them with a wide smile, his eyes full of admiration.

“Oh,” you frowned as you grabbed your keys from your jacket pocket but before you could slot your key into the lock, the door opened. Yangyang, the dork, greeted you over the phone even though he stood in front of you, a boyish grin displayed on his face. You rolled your eyes, not able to smother your smile as you hung up and stepped inside, locking the door behind you. It was noticeably warmer than usual and the apartment smelled if something toasty, which only meant one thing. “Pizza?” You guessed confidently.

Just as he gave you an affirmative, the oven began beeping to signal that it was finished. As Yangyang brought everything to the coffee table in front of your couch, you slipped off your shoes, dropped your bag and shrugged your coat off. While he cut the pizzas into almost even slices, you grabbed two cans of soda from the fridge.

Although it was still piping hot, you couldn’t help but take big bites. Your slice of doughy goodness was diminished within seconds. Solving calculus problems did thay to you. It was your least favorite module of the semester and brought on a headache whenever you left your lectures.

“This is so good.” You remarked as you took another slice. You loved a good margherita from Dominos but there was nothing like a frozen pizza from your local supermarket—the additives was probably what made it delicious, the cheap price just happened to be a bonus. Yangyang definitely felt the same, seeing as how the two of you devoured both pizzas within minuts, silence taking over the room.

You took a sip of your soda after popping open the top. “I”–you didn’t like the mischief that danced in uour room-mate’s eyes–“dare you to call the number.”

In your haste to swallow it, the soda passed through your throat uncomfortably, as if it were a large stone. “Nuh-uh.” You said with a shake of your head. There was absolutely no way you were going to call that number! You were just going to forget that it was even there. Or maybe you would return the book and hope that the next unfortunate student who will borrow it would be the one to pay whatever fine they had for ‘defacing public property’, as the college liked to call it. You didn’t know how many people had a calculus module in their course but you sure hoped that it was a large number.

“Awh come on, y/n!” At the firm shake of your head, he folded his arms and pouted slightly. A moment of silence passed and then, “I’ll give you a twenty.”

You took another sip of your soda as you mulled it over. “How about a ten and your last mango pudding cup for a text?”

Yangyang sucked a breath through his teeth. “That’s a tough bargain.” You shrugged, he hogged the other five pudding cups for himself so if he really wanted you to call this mystery person, he would have to give up the remaining one. “Okay, what if I give you fifteen and we split the pudding cup.”

“Better than nothing.” You conceeded after a second of thinking it over.

Yangyang’s grin stretched from ear to ear as he held out his hand for you to take. Once you shook it, the two of you quickly cleaned up. Not even ten minutes later, the last pudding cup and two spoons were on the table along with the textbook, opened on the page with the number on it. Yangyang leaned closer to your shoulder, his head practically resting on top of yours as he watched you type in the number and text.

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

hey! i found ur number on a textbook i borrowed from the library so i thought i’d say hi i guess?

“Now we wait.” Yangyang said as he returned to his seat and opened the pudding cup. He handed you your spoon and the two of you dug in, eventually fighting for the last bit.

The reply came when you and Yangyang were watching Into The Spiderverse. Neither of you paused the movie when you heard the notification sound your phone let out—you had seen it countless times; twice when it was in cinemas and every so often whenever it was on Netflix.

You were slightly nervous about the reply, which was silly considering that you didn’t even know the person, but you opened up the text anyway so that it would be over and done with.

from: 13X XXXX XXXX

Hi. My friend just told me he wrote it in there before I transferred. I’d be grateful if you could rub it out or use correction tape to get rid of it. Also, please delete my number.

You pursed your mouth at the response. It wasn’t as if you were hoping to be best friends or anything but the prospect of befriending someone had definitely excited you. You had college friends but that was liferally what they were: friends who you only saw in college. None of them hung out with you outside of college and whenever you did offer, they would either say yes to humour you – which, unfortunately, was blatantly obvious – or came up with an excuse. Which sucked, for obvious reasons but you would survive. The only people you had actually managed to successfully befriend were Yangyang (because he was looking for a room-mate at the time) and his best friend, Dejun.

“Uh-oh,” came Yangyang’s voice. “What did they say?” He was quick to read the text after you turned your phone to show him the screen. “Whoever it is, they’re very, um,” he paused for a moment while he thought of a fitting description, scratching his head, “grammatically correct?” At your nod of agreement, he added, “at least he said ‘please’.”

You shrugged as you typed a quick reply. “I guess.”

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

sure thing

from: 13X XXXX XXXX

Thank you.

The two of you refocused your attention to the movie, the texts completely forgotten once you received his reply. Later that night, you did as you were requested and used correction tape to hide the number—which was written in neat, tiny green ink. You were aware that covering the numbers in correction tape would also be considered as ‘defacing public property’ too, but it was for the sake of the stranger’s privacy. It seemed as though you were the fiest to contact the number but, still, if you were in their position, you wouldn’t like your number to be in public property either.

As for the text, you took a screenshot of it for Yangyang, who asked for it so that he could show Dejun while he typed away in your groupchat, and then erased the number from your phone.

*

Two weeks later, you found yourself sitting at the study desk in your room, staring helplessly at the blank answer boxes of the calculus assignment you had been told to complete and submit before the end of next week. You wanted to cry in frustration as you redirected your gaze down to your notebook where you had been trying to solve the equations. The entire page was a mess and your desk was coverd with eraser bits. It had gotten to the point where some parts of the page had gone grainy, like it always did when you repeatedly erased something on the same area. There wasn’t a single problem that you managed solve—no matter how hard you tried. It was pathetic, really.

With a sigh, you decided to take the break that you had put off, not wanting to take one until you solved a problem (ha!) as a reward. Maybe you would rewatch the entire Twilight saga again (Dejun had managed to convince you to read the series a couple of months back and the movies had become something like a guilty pleasure of yours,) because it was clear that you were going absolutely nowhere.

Just as you had started Eclipse, you heard the door open but didn’t bother moving from your spot. In fact, you hadn’t moved since you started your movie marathon a few hours ago because you were all too comfortable buried inside your fluffy blanket on the couch.

“Perfect timing!” Dejun’s rich voice bellowed, “it just started.” There was the sound of socked feet running towards the couch and then he lifted your legs, sat down and laid them down on top of his lap.

“Hey Dejun.” You greeted, raising your hand for a high five.

When he slapped his palm against yours, he asked, “how’re you doing?”

Just as you opened your mouth to answer, Yangyang spoke up. “Judging from the Twilight marathon that’s going on,” there was a hissing sound of a can opening and the audible sound of him taking a quick sip of whatever canned beverage he was holding, “not very good.”

“Hey!” You exclaimed but your your friend only shrugged, smiling amusedly. “He’s right though,” you grumbled, “I’m really struggling with calculus at the moment.” Struggling was an understatement. You really wanted to pass it because you definitely didn’t want to repeat the exam. That would be a nightmare.

Dejun looked at you sympathetically before he made an affronted noise in his throat, one that you felt deeply in your soul as he turned to face Yangyang. “The Twilight saga is a cinematic masterpiece and you absolutely cannot change my mind.”

“Okay,” the blond replied, clearly up for the challenge. “But it’s not better than Shrek now, is it?”

“Shrek?” Dejun repeated incredulously. “Shrek is an iconic classic but the Twilight saga? Definitely on a different wavelength. The scene in New Moon where Bella just sits on her chair looking out the window soullessly? Perfection! It was a fantastic book to movie adaptation. And don’t even get me started on—”

“As thrilling as your debate is becoming,” you said, interrupting the point that the brunet was about to make, “I’d really love to continue the movie so I can hear young BooBoo Stewart say, ‘newest, bestest, brightest’ to help me feel a crumb of joy.” You were unable to find it in yourself to feel guilty about cutting in. They could take their debate somewhere else while you continued to wallow in your feelings of failure.

The pair read your mood easily and shrugged at one another in concession. Dejun patted your leg lightly in comfort as Yangyang jumped on the couch to sit on your other side, giving you a quick side-hug before focusing on the movie. It was silent up until Rosalie finished telling Bella her the story about her past.

“I’ve been thinking,” Dejun spoke up.

“Uh-oh.” Yangyang muttered playfully to you, his voice purposefully loud. You huffed out a laugh before lightly digging your elbow into his side, knowing that he’s had an awful share of ideas in the past.

Dejun stuck his tongue out at him but continued with what he began saying instead of retaliating. “Why don’t you text that person? The one whose number was in the textbook you borrowed? They must have done the module or something.”

You considered what he said seriously, even pausing the movie so that you could discuss it with him. “What if they didn’t though? What if it was their friend who borrowed the textbook? They did say that it was their friend who wrote it there.”

“Then you could just ask their friend for help.” Yangyang piped up. It was a statement that you couldn’t counter but that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t try to.

“I don’t have their number anymore,” you said to them. “They asked me to delete it, remember?”

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Dejun told you as he reached into one of the pockets of his jeans and fished out his phone. Yangyang leaned over slightly and the two of you watched as Dejun quickly swiped his finger up his phone. “Here you go!” He said brightly, turning his phone so that you were facing the screen. And there it was: the screenshot that Yangyang asked you to take so that he could send it to Dejun. There was no way you could weasel your way out of this situation now.

“Okay,” you relented, “I’ll text them after we finish this saga.”

“If you text them after this movie, I’ll pay for take-out.” Yangyang bribed, eager for this idea to take place.

You weighed out the pros and cons briefly before agreeing with him. It would be a win-win situation: you would get take-out and a possible tutor. It seemed as if time moved quicker because the movie felt as though it finished within a few minutes. As Yangyang dialed the number for a local take-out place, you slowly typed out a text, him and Dejun watching you with hawk eyes.

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

hi! it’s me again. i know you don’t know me but could you please help me with calc? or your friend, whoever borrowed the textbook. please. i feel like my brain is melting

You flung your phone on the table, laid back down on the sofa and released a long sigh. It would be a lie if you said that you weren’t hoping that they would say yes. You were trying your best but it was as if your brain refused to coorperate with you when it came to calculus. If only Yangyang or Dejun were enrolled in the same course as you. It was often that you thoughr that wistfully, especially during times such as this.

It was when you were about to shove a huge lump of lo mein into your mouth that your phone lit up, indicating that you received a notification. You stuffed the noodles into your mouth and grabbed your phone off of the table, dropping your wooden chopsticks into the rest of your dish.

“What did they say?” Dejun asked as he bit into an egg roll.

“Depends,” you read out. “Would I get paid for it?” You practically exclaimed the last part. It was fair that they were wondering about payment after all, who would want to tutor for free? The thought of the amount in your bank account had you cringing, you couldn’t afford to pay for a tutor at the minute. Although, you couldn’t afford to fail your module, either. So it was a lose-lose sotuation. You sighed before shoving another chopstick full of noodles into your mouth as you thought of a reply, eyes never leaving your screen. “How can I say, ‘no I cant’t but I really need your help’ without sounding desperate?”

“You can’t.” Yangyang replied matter-of-factly, chewing on his mapo tofu.

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

no but u’d have my gratitude forever???????

from: 13X XXXX XXXX

Oh.

[typing. . .]

I’ll have to think about it.

[typing. . .]

Just kidding! I’ll help you out, free of charge. Would you like to do it over the phone or meet IRL?

You cheered loudly when their last text delivered. “I’m guessing they said yes?” Dejun said, smirking smugly. You nodded, grinning widely as your fingers flew on the keyboard in your phone.

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

omg ur a lifesaver!!!!! maybe over the phone?? it’ll probably be more convenient foe the both of us :)

from: 13X XXXX XXXX

Gotcha. We can discuss our schedule sometime tomorrow.

*

Your tutor, Wong Kunhang, was surprisingly really helpful. He was much more friendly than you thought he would be, immediately introducing himself after greeting you over the phone. For the entire three hours that the two of you were on the phone, he was nothing but the epitome of patience. Not only that, but he explained everything in a way that you could easily understand and even cracked a lame joke or two to break the tension whenever he noticed that you were becoming incredibly frustrated. By the end of the session, you felt microscopically better about calculus. While you couldn’t say that you were especially ecstatic for the upcoming lectures and assignments, it was safe to say that, while you had a long way to go, things were sort of looking up.

from: Wong Kunhang (tutor)

Same time next week?

to: Wong Kunhang (tutor)

definitely!!

[typing. . .]

also if ur comfortable with it can we pls video chat instead?? i think it would be much quicker than us sending each other pictures back and forth

from: Wong Kunhang (tutor)

That’s a good idea! I can’t believe we didn’t think of it earlier ahahaha.

*

As you worked through the practice problems that Kunhang prepared for you, you couldn’t help but sneakily stare at your phone to catch a glimpse of him repeatedly. It sure came as a surprise when it came time for the video call and you found yourself face to face with a Disney Prince who came to life. There was no other way to sum up how handsome he was. He somewhat reminded you of Prince Eric—what with his black hair, wide, bright eyes and kind smile. It wasn’t as if you thought or expected that he would he unnattractive. In fact, you hadn’t really wondered about what he would look like at all since you had a long list of priorities. None of which included thinking about whether or not you would find your tutor attractive.

But still. Kunhang was definitely one of those people who were blessed with beauty and brains. One of the Universe’s favorites, if you will.

“You good? Are you stuck on something?” You started at Kunhang’s voice, eyes flying from your phone to your page and back to meet his expectant look. You murmured a negative and resolutely kept your gaze on your work for the next half an hour to avoid a repeat of what had just jappened.

*

After nearly two months, the tutoring session had become a bi-weekly thing. Sort of. Somewhere in between you whining about every question but toughing it out and him encouraging you while also lightly teasing you, you and Kunhang became friends. One of the two sessions somehow always ended up with the both of you chatting, completely abandoning the unsolved equations in favor of getting to know one another, or, mostly recently, switching back and forth between the show that the two of you suggested to one another.

This week you would be tuning into his suggestion, Love Death + Robots. Kunhang would talk every now and again during some parts, especially when it came to his favorites, but you found that you didn’t really mind. Not when he sounded so (adorably) excited about it. The series itself was pretty good so far albeit short – six episodes in total, and the two of you were already on the fourth one – which meant that the you that you recommended (The Office because you were astounded that he hadn’t watched at least one episode) would soon become the primary source of entertainment since the two of you were only on season three.

As you stood in the snacks aisle, internally debating one which type of popcorn you should purchase (salted or buttered? the microwaveable kind or loose kernels? also, which brand? there were so many options, maybe too many,) your phone vibrated in your pocket. Swapping your basket from your non-dominant hand to your dominant one, you pulled out your phone and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Kunhang greeted back brightly, “uh, so listen, I know we have our thing later but one of my sisters is moving out of her apartment and she asked me to help. Is it okay if we cancel?” The poor guy sounded super apologetic.

“Yeah, totally! Help her out!”–briefly, you thought about offering your assistance before deciding against it because that would be awkward and weird. Weirdly awkward. Awkwardly weird. Whatever–“I mean, it’s not like what we do is a set thing, anyway. I’ll probably ask the guys to hang out instead.” You eyed your basket full of snacks and made a mental note to grab the particular brand of potato chips that Dejun liked, already predicting that he would agree.

The silence that followed seemed to stretch on for hours on end. You would have assumed that the line dropped or went dead for some reason but you could definitely hear some shuffling sounds on the other side and, in a totally non-creepy way, Kunhang’s breathing.

“Right,” he finally replied, drawling the word out. There was another silence that felt extremely awkward. You wondered what facial expression he was making at the moment. It could have possibly clued you into what he as thinking. “Well that’s all I wanted to say I guess.”

“Oh,” you mumbled and then after a beat, you followed up with, “do you prefer salted or buttered popcorn? I’m trying to choose right now but I can’t decide.”

“Definitely salted. Buttered always leaves my mouth feeling weird.” You hummed while trapping you phone in between your ear and shoulder so that you could grab the generic box brand of microwaveable salted popcorn. The conversation carred on without anymore awkward pauses. You picked up a couple of items that he recommended every now and again, trusting his judgement. “Hey, you know what we should do?” Kunhang said as you queued up for the self-service checkout line, eyeing the items on display. When you hummed in response, he followed with, “we should hang out next week. In real life. We could do it on Sunday so you’ll still have one day of tutoring.”

It felt somewhat embarrassing that you agreed so quickly to his suggestion. You definitely should have played it cool but you had been meaning to ask him the same thing for a while now, so you were glad that he suggested it. “We can meet up at a café or something! Maybe have lunch? I’m paying, though!” It was only fair since he was helping you out for free.

“Lunch sounds good.”

“Great!”

“Great!” Kunhang mimicked, just as enthusiastically. “I’ve got to go but I’ll text you later?”

Both of you said your goodbyes then hung up. After tucking your phone back into your pocket, you made your way to the till that just freed up and began scanning your items. Once everything was paid for and bagged, you retrieved your phone to shoot a quick text in the group chat with Yangyang and Dejun, asking them if they felt like watching a movie franchise with you. They agreed, but only after Yangyang asked if ‘you’re weekly date with Kunhang got cancelled’ which earned him a picture of you flipping him off.

*

“Today’s the big date, huh?” Yangyang asked teasingly as you checked your appearance in the mirror once more, sprawled out on the couch as he made his way through his third mango pudding cup. From beside him, Dejun and Yukhei – the newest addition to your friend group since he and Dejun had to do an assignment together – gave your form an assessing once over.

Dejun, smiling mischievously, said, “obviously, can’t you tell by how nicely they’re dressed.”

You mock glared at the pair while Yukhei lightly slapped Dejun for his comment. Then he, bless his heart, beamed at you and said, “you look great!”

“Thank you,” you replied, smiling sweeting at him before addressing the other two, you firmly said, “and it’s not a date. We’re just hanging out, like the three, now four”–you corrected, glancing over at Yukhei–“of us do on a regular basis.”

“Oh, are they just a friend from your course then or something?” Yukhei asked curiously while Dejun and Yangyang hummed in unison, disbelief clear in their tones.

“No, it’s this guy, he helps me out with calculus. We’ve never met in person but he’s really nice.”

“I should hope so,” muttered Yangyang, peeling the seal off another mango pudding cup. “You’ve been crushing on him for a while now, so it would be a bummer if he wasn’t.” He said through a mouthful.

“Am not!”

“Are too!” Dejun countered for him.

“Am not,” Yangyang mimicked. “So what about all the times you’ve mentioned him then, huh?” And then he placed his pudding cup on the table, clasped his hands together by his cheeks and, in a voice that was meant to sound like yours, said, “‘oh, Kunhang told me this stuff is really good, we should try it out!’, ‘Kunhang is so smart!’, ‘can you believe Kunhang volunteers at the animal shelter and the nursery home as much as he can? Isn’t that so sweet?’, ‘Kunhang has such a Disney Prince smile!’. You gush about him all the time, it’s kinda sickening.”

You threw your arm out at him as you looked towards Dejun, hoping for some back up but you should have known better. They were your best friends after all. Dejun simply shrugged as he snatched a pudding cup from the coffee table and said, “to be fair, you do gush about him a lot. And! Whenever you text him, which most of the time, you get this goofy smile one your face.”

“Huh,” Yukhei mumbled, his tone full of thought. “This guy sounds a lot like one of my buddies.” The three of you looked at him with wide, curious eyes. When he noticed, he added, “it’s probably just a coincidence?” Although his tone suggested otherwise.

“Probably,” you replied as you grabbed your keys and shoved them in your pocket. “I’ve gotta get going or else I’ll be late.” You said as you made a beeline towards the door and slipped on the shoes you thought best suited your outfit. “Don’t wait up!”

“Why?” Yangyang replied just as you were about to close the door, playfulness evident in his voice, “I thought it was just lunch.” The other two cackled at that but you flipped him off and left the apartment, trusting that one of them would like the door behind you.

It was fortunate that you managed to catch the bus on time. After paying the appropriats fare, you made your way towards the back, earphones plugged in so that you could listen to some music along the way. Once seated, you took out your phone sent a text to Kunhang to let him know that you were on your way. His response was immediate, informing you that he was already nearby because his sister had asked him to run an errand for her, and asked you to text him when you were close.

Horizon was a cute little place that served as both a café and restaurant. It was sandwiched between a thrift shop and music store but, surprisingly, didn’t look the least bit out of place among the buildings. As you walked closed to it, you saw Kunhang standing by the entrance, bopping his head as he used his phone.

“Kunhang!” You called when you were close enough, after taking off your earphones and stuffing them into your pocket. Judging from the way he jolted slightly, you startled him. “Hey,” you greeted warmly when he removed his earphones. “You could have waited inside.”

Kunhang shrugged, a brilliant smile etched onto his face, “I thought it’d be easier if we walked in together.”

When you entered, you thought that you would have to find somewhere else to eat due to the amount of people present, but the staff who was waiting by the door only asked if you were eating in and then lead you to a table in the far corner of the room, right beside the window.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, y’know, in person.” Kunhang said as he browsed through the menu.

“You too,” you replied, peeking up from your own menu to find him wearing a hint of a smile. “I can’t believe it took us this long to be honest.”

Kunhang chuckled at that and nodded in agreement.

The meal seemed to fly by even though you left Horizon a little later than expected. You were still laughing as you headed out, thanking the waiter that served you one more time as you passed by him, at a story that Kunhang recounted that took place during his childhood. Although his texting style suggested otherwise, Kunhang was hilarious—which you knew already since he often made you laugh whenever you were on the phone with him, it was just a different feeling compared to the experience in person. You were almost sad at the thought of your time being over with him, until he jammed his hands into his pockets and, rocking back and forth on his herl, asked if you wanted to go get some ice cream since he knew a really good place nearby. And who were you to say no to that offer?

After fighting, again, over who would pay, the two of you roamed around for a bit, slipping into this store and that to window shop. Only when the stores began to close did you realize how late it had gotten. It wasn’t dark out, not yet, and you were surprised that several hours had passed since you first met up with Kunhang.

“Ready to call it quits?” You asked as the two of you began to make your way to where you would wait for your bus.

Kunhang shook his head and pointed somewhere behind you. “Let’s go to the playground over there. Race you.” And with that, he took off, leaving you to stare at him dumbfoundedly until your brain registered what he said and you ran after him.

“Cheater!” You huffed when you reached him, hands on your knees as you caught your breath.

Kunhang did nothing but through his head back and laugh at you. Attractively. It was something to ignore—his attractiveness, that was. But it was awfully difficult and all you could do was hope that he didn’t notice how you were looking at him. You couldn’t help it! Even though his outfit was relatively basic – just some gray-brown sweatshirt, black joggers and a pair of white sneakers – he looked effortlessly good. And it wasn’t just his appearance that made him attractive, either, oh no, because that just wasn’t enough. He also had to have an amazing personality.

“Let’s go over there,” he said after he sobered up, nodding towards the spring riders. “No racing this time.” He added with a wide grin. You weren’t able to suppress your own grin quick enough, rolling your eyes as you shoved his shoulder.

“I’m glad we met up today,” you admitted sincerely as you rocked back and forth on the spring ride. “You’re even better in person.”

Kunhang stopped rocking on his spring ride and looked at you. “I’m glad we met up today, too.” He told you with a smile that turned into one that was more sweet and shy as he said, “we should do it again some time, y’know, when we aren’t flooded with assignments and stuff.”

“Totally!”

“How about, maybe,”–Kunhang’s tongue darted out a sliver of his to wet his lips–“as a date?”

You stared at him in shock which he met head-on, that sweet, shy smile of his still present. You could feel a smile threaten to rise and you allowed it, messing with the hem of your top as you nodded in agreement. “That would be nice.”

“Really?” He asked, his tone both excited and unbelieving. When you assured him that you would be really looking forward to it, he said, “that’s– that’s great! I can’t wait, either.” Then, he jumped of his spring ride, held out his hand and pressed a feather light kiss to your knuckles like the Disney Prince he was when you placed your hand in his.

“We should probably head home.” You said, hand still in his. Kunhang never let go, so you figured he was okay with you interlocking your fingers and swinging your hands back and forth.

Like the gentleman he was, he waited for your bus with you and waited until you got on it, blowing kisses at you through the window. Your smile was so big your cheeks began to hurt as you pretended to catch the kisses.

(Later, after you had told Yangyang about how the day went swimmingly, you received a text from Kunhang and couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh. Your room-mate shot you a curious look so you let him read the text.

from: kunhang 💘

You know Yukhei?!?!?!!!!)