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faunusrights · 3 years

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yeah, all i got is this belly button lint: a happy huntresses short fic

wrote this real quick because i love thinking about the random crap fiona has in her Inventory(tm). also i just like thinking about these clowns in general, so,

"Okay, so, what's actually in your Semblance right now?" Joanna asks one day in third year, when Fiona and May have sneaked away to Robyn's dorm to lose at cards and help edit her new batch of flyers promoting union creation in the workplace. Fiona had given a couple a look and accepted them as good enough, but May is weirdly exacting about her standards and is currently trying to convince Robyn to nudge the text headers over by ten pixels to the right. That's why, as she's sat on the floor and wrapped up in the drama of watching Robyn try and slowly fail to ignore May's insistent pleas for her to boot up her editor, Fiona's caught just a little bit off-guard by the question.

"My Semblance?" she asks, and Joanna nods all serious-like from her place on the bunk above Robyn. Joanna often looks very serious, because she suffers from what Robyn calls resting thoughtful bitch face, so sometimes it's hard to gauge how actually serious about something she really is. "I mean, it's probably a mess in there right now."

"I keep forgetting you actually use it like storage space," Robyn adds cheerfully, having now progressed onto shoving May away from her laptop computer every time she tries to creep closer. "Since most Semblances are, y'know, combat-only things or like... special occasions, I guess. And yet here you are, telling people you really don't need a bag for all your groceries!"

It is fun to flex on all the people struggling to carry like six bags to their car or their home, and Fiona preens. "Yeah, it's nice. I mostly keep things in it that I'd wanna have in an emergency, but it's been a while since I last sorted through it, so, who knows what garbage I've put in there."

"Tell me Robyn's braincell is in there too," May says imploringly, still trying to slide an arm around Robyn to get at the keyboard, but Fiona just shakes her head. She can't and won't be blamed for that particular disappearance any time soon. Instead, she rubs her hands together, scrunching up her face as she tests the edges of the Semblance. It's a funny thing, a Semblance like this--she never really has to think about it, but it's always just in reach, like this extra weight in her chest that she can totally forget about. It's strange to think about, so she often just doesn't.

"Okay," she starts, and she goes for the biggest item she can sense, which is an easy one to explain. In her hands materialises an acoustic guitar, worn and scuffed with age, and this attracts to attention of every girl in the room. "Well, this one's easy. This is my guitar, and honestly? If I ever leave it behind in the meatspace and don't pick it up on my way out the door, know that you've just seen my evil clone and you have to kill her."

Joanna blinks, and Robyn seems caught between asking about the guitar, the evil clone, and also the fact that Fiona insists on referring to the physical world as the meatspace. So, she does as Robyn does best, and settles on an expletive. "Shit! You play?"

"Been playing since I was... like seven? Something like that." Fiona shrugs, because she really can't be sure; her first vague memory of even seeing this guitar was a long time ago, her uncle telling her it used to belong to her grandmother who'd never managed to learn a damn thing on it. So, Fiona had taken up practice, if only because it was something for a little lowlands Mantellian Faunus to do during the long, cold polar nights and the endless sunshine of the midnight sun. "But, yeah, this is always on me in some form or another."

"You should've played it whilst we were on watch our last mission," May says, with a certain scowl that Fiona knows is 100% directed at their team leader, who is currently off doing... some sort of bullshit with their partner, no doubt. Gods, this team is a nightmare. "All those hours trying to stay awake so we could stare into nothing..."

"Sorry," Fiona says, and she means it. She'd intended to, but, well, she'd sort of chickened out. The echo in the mountains is kind of insane. "Next time?"

May nods, but Joanna cuts off whatever she's about to say next by waving her hands through the air like she can physically dissipate the conversation. "Okay, okay, cool, but now I gotta else you got hiding in there."

Re-compressing her guitar--and oh, is Fiona thankful that dematerialising and rematerialising it doesn't leave it out of tune--Fiona has a mental root around. "Uh, okay, so, we've got--"

In no particular order, she starts pulling things out: a pair of thick gloves for the brutal Solitas chill, an extra pair of socks (hugely understated by most, but never by Fiona), a ushanka that Robyn instantly cheers for, and a couple of jackets ranging from light windbreakers to thick furred jackets that feel like she's wearing a mattress around her ribs. Her Scroll and wallet are in there too, naturally, as are her keys and some extra ammunition, and she pulls out a load of old train tickets with a grimace. "Hm. I was meant to throw these away years ago."

"You're basically carrying around a wardrobe in there, then?" May asks in a way that'd maybe be a little teasing if she didn't look about as jealous as she sounds, but it becomes a thoughtful expression when Fiona shakes her head again.

"Bold of you to think I haven't got a whole pantry in here too," she says, and now Joanna looks very interested. "Check this out."

The first thing she pulls out is a gallon jug of clean water--endlessly fucking useful, she's found, especially when you're in some situation where you can't sit on your ass for an hour waiting for the water purification tablets to do their job--before pulling out a whole host of Atlesian MREs that she keeps around just in case shit really does hit the fan. Atlas rations are... not good, in a phrase, but she's owed them her life more than once, so, whatever.

"What dates are on those?" May quickly interrupts with a critical eye, trying to make out the printed numbers on the snow-patterned packets, and Fiona tosses her one if only to distract May's hands from trying to puzzle out Robyn's password when Robyn isn't directly paying attention.

"Things don't really degrade in my Semblance," Fiona admits. "I've tested it before on stuff with a short shelf-life, like cheese and milk, and honestly I can leave it in there for months and have it come out just as fresh as when it went in. Something to do with a sort of... internal stasis, I guess." Then, she adds, "One thing in my Semblance is a goldfish in a bowl, but he's part of a practical theory I'm running, so I can't materialise him for another fifteen years or so."

"That sounds very normal," Joanna says, and Fiona is glad she agrees as she barrels right over the inherent sarcasm.

As May agonises over finding the date, though, Fiona continues to unveil her pantry--there's plenty of snacks, like dried fruit and nuts and energy bars and chocolate, and when she reveals she carries extra for every member of her team and then some (then some in this instance being Robyn and Joanna, not that she'll admit it), Robyn looks delighted. "That's so sweet! Look at you, making sure nobody goes hungry. You're one in a million."

That's cute and very gay, but Fiona has a lot of stuff to be working through and so she keeps on going--there's a flask of coffee that, thanks to the maybe-stasis, is eternally hot, a bottle of dark Mantellian ale she keeps as, uh, moral support, and she blushes when she pulls out half an uneaten tuna sandwich. "I wondered where that went. Whoops."

May looks up from the MRE for a second, and then does a double-take as she takes in the sight of the very limp and sad-looking sandwich, made courtesy of the Atlas Academy cafeteria. "Wait! Isn't that the sandwich you accused me of stealing last month?!"

"Anyway!" Fiona says with a forced grin, quickly making it disappear back into the void where it can safely continue not existing. "I think the final thing in here is... wait."

She blinks, and suddenly in her hands are at least a hundred little booklets entitled The Pocket Guide to Communist Outreach, scattering right over the floor. Robyn yelps, and then reaches down the side of her bunk to pick them up. "Oh shit! I forgot I asked you to hold onto these! I thought we ran out, nice."

Joanna's face is in her hands, and May sighs long and hard before tossing the MRE back to Fiona with a distinctly pained expression.

"It goes out of date in a month," she notes with distaste, and Fiona just sucks it up without a word. She'll be thankful for it when they end up down a dark cave with no backup, but Fiona figures she'll sit on that one for a bit before being able to make the greatest told you so call in history. She can wait.

"So," she says, watching as May takes advantage of Robyn's momentary distraction to try and access her computer again. "I guess... do you wanna hear me play a song?"

Joanna watches as her partner leans too far over the side of the bunk, yelping as she nearly slams her head directly into the hard vinyl of the floor, and she grimaces. "Please do."

Grinning, Fiona finds her guitar again--somewhere buried, she mentally notes, beside the gallon of water but under the coats--and she slings the broad strap about her shoulders before settling it on her lap, crossing her legs tightly beneath herself before finding her place on the fretboard. After having not played since being back home, it relaxes her more than she'd ever realised it did. It helps to be surrounded by friends, though. Helps to be with family.

"I don't take requests," she adds, flatly, and Robyn laughs from her place on the floor before music fills the dorm, soft and deep and achingly familiar of a place far, far below.

But she's okay with calling this place home, too.

#is the title really a spongebob refer--#rwby #happy huntresses #fiona thyme #robyn hill #may marigold #joanna greenleaf #my writing #sorry this was in my brain for a while there sdfhjgsdfgjh #BUT ITS OUT NOW. ITS FREE.#what else would you have called this #fiona doesn't mention this but she also has emergency condoms and a literal handgun. just in case.#JUST IN CASE...

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juniwilson · 2 years

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Cow, Cat, Baby | Para

Featuring: Juniper Wilson with Robin Wilson; mentions of Chris Grimaldi & Xavier Mitchell Notes: Juniper goes into labor solo…almost.

Juniper had been waddling around the house, switching out their water bottles from the fridge while they began their yoga session for the day, hoping to relieve some lingering lower back pain. They’d begun their maternity leave from work a week before their due date after Braxton Hicks alarmed them a bit, and it had become harder to be on their feet for more than an hour or two at a time. They let their colleagues know that they would be available by phone for the next week at least, but Juni doubted that they would receive any calls from within the research department–either out of politeness of them being on their leave, or because of the not-so-kind colleagues weren’t interested in contacting them.

As Juni carefully settled cross-legged on her yoga mat, she turned on some instrumental music on their phone and pulled a long sip from her water bottle. Her cat, Eevee had appeared from whatever hiding place and nuzzled her face against Juni’s bump, earning some gentle head scratches before Juni got started on her yoga session. She’d taken some warm-up breaths, hands rested on her kneecaps and began her routine. About fifteen minutes into her workout, she was standing on her knees with her hands reaching back to grip her ankles. Her chin was towards the ceiling and she was drawing in deep breaths.

She continued through poses and ended with the cow/cat pose, changing the arch and dip of her spine every ten or so seconds. Breathing in on cat pose, holding for five seconds, breathing out on cow pose, exhaling all the way through. Cat... cow... cat... cow. Juni kept this going, up until she felt something warm and wet trickling from between her legs. Her eyes snapped open and she froze. She hadn’t peed on herself since she was a little kid but she’d read that pregnant people were prone to doing just that. A pout immediately formed on her lips as lifted a hand to the couch cushion and used the couch’s edge to bring herself into a standing position. “Crap, crap, crap, crap…” she whispered to herself with each waddling step to the nearest bathroom. Eevee attempted to follow, nearly causing Juni to trip but the agile feline darted away when Juni stumbled forward and gripped the nearby doorknob for support, along with a gasp. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, Eevee!” she hurriedly stated, pushing the door open and shuffling inside.

After sitting on the toilet for a full minute and trying to remember all of the breathing they’d just done and the breathing from the Lamaze/birthing classes, Juniper decided it was best to contact their doula and midwife first–not wanting to sound the alarms to their loved ones if all they’d done was accidentally pee on themself. Knowing that their brother was off work today, they reluctantly pulled the damp yoga pants back on, washed their hands and headed out of the bathroom to pick up their phone. They sent identical texts to both women and carefully made their way to the elevator to head up to theirs and Chris’s room while waiting for an answer. Their midwife texted back first, suggesting Juni take a seat on a towel for twenty minutes. If the towel was wet, then their water was definitely broken. The doula made a similar suggestion shortly after, but added that Juni should contact their midwife for confirmation.

She cleaned herself up, changed out of her pants and then headed back downstairs to do her best to clean up from her shortened yoga session. Once all of that was taken care of, Juni placed a folded towel on a living room chair and took a seat on it; she set a timer on her phone and then waited.

And waited.

And grew impatient, waiting some more.

And while the urge to call Chris was growing, Juni waited for the timer to go off before doing anything. He was hard at work on his film and the last thing she wanted to do was interrupt him just to tell him that she’d had an accident on herself. Letting out a sigh that ended in another pout, Juni looked around for the TV remote and when she spotted it and went to reach for it, she felt a cramping feeling pulse around her pelvis. Freezing again, Juni waited to see if it was fleeting, a fluke or made up in her mind. And then she remembered to breathe again. Gripping the remote, she turned the television on and hoped it might help distract her, even though the belief that the cramping feeling was a contraction had been growing larger and larger in her mind.

Taking a few deep breaths, they tried searching through the streaming channels but couldn’t decide on anything. The cramping feeling was lingering and they were fairly sure that their change from yoga pants to pajama shorts was a waste as the shorts were now wet too. After giving up on channel surfing, they looked at the timer on their phone. It still had a few more minutes to go, but Juni was certain their water had broken and that they were now experiencing contractions. Doing their best to stay calm, they text confirmation with their doula and midwife and then immediately called Chris.

There was no answer.

Rather than leaving a voicemail, Juni hung up and called again. The same thing occurred two more times before Juni finally left him a voicemail. “Hey Chris, um… I know you’re working right now but my water broke. I…” They drew in a slow, deep breath and then spoke slowly, “Please call me back as soon as you get this? Okay? Okay, love you. Bye.”

Panic rose inside Juniper but she did her best to keep calm. She had the phone numbers to Chris’s team as well as Xavier. Someone had to pick up. After starting with his agent and ending with his stylist, the only person who answered was Chris’ personal trainer, Kyle. But Kyle wasn’t on set and was meeting with another client at the moment. Juni apologized for interrupting him and then hung up, trying Xavier and then Chris’s phone for the 5th time.

Still no answer.

In between all of their attempts to get a hold of Chris, their midwife and doula had texted back. Their midwife was already at the hospital at the time, and their doula promised to meet them there. Both of them encouraged Juni to get to the hospital as soon and safely as possible. Despite their worry, they got up from the chair, picked up the towel and started towards Robin’s room while calling out for him. “Robiiiin! Robin, please be awake! Robin!”

Juni was halted right at the elevator as another contraction started. Hunched over with their hands on their knees, they groaned and tried to breathe through the discomfort. As they started to call for their brother again, Robin had silently emerged from his room and placed a hand on their shoulder.

“Are you in labor?” he calmly asked and when Juni nodded back, he asked, “Did you call Chris?”

With another nod, Juni told him, “He didn’t answer. He must be filming. No one on his team who’s with him answered either. Robin, you have to take me to the hospital. Please? I need a change of pants...my overalls are on the bed. And I need mine and Chris’s go bag from our room.” Juni hadn’t gotten to describing where, exactly, the bag was by the time Robin bolted for the stairs. “Thank you!” they called out to him. Taking some deep breaths, Juni labored to straighten up a little more and when the contraction passed, they started for their shoulder bag and hoodie in the living room, and their shoes by the front door. As they were slipping their feet in a pair of Toms, they checked their phone again. Nothing new. So they sent a text to Chris, another to Xavier, and a third to Kima.

Robin came jogging to the front door wielding the handle to a large, wheeled suitcase, along with two pillows under one arm, Juni’s overalls over one shoulder, and an inflated, turquoise exercise ball barely gripped under his other arm.

Juni frowned, “Oh gosh, Robin let me help y–”

“No, June. I got it. Just change, lock the front door and let’s go,” Robin insisted, shuffling past her. And while Juniper hurried to do as he told her, Robin made his way to the driveway to stick the exercise ball in the back seat with the already installed car seat. He popped the trunk and dumped the rest of the items in, and then he helped Juni get into the passenger’s seat. “Call Mom and let her know what’s going on. She’ll call Dad and the others,” Robin instructed, jogging around to the driver’s side and starting up the old sedan. “And…just keep breathing, okay? We’ll get a hold of Chris one way or another so he can get here. Maybe try to call Isaac after you call Mom.”

With a few quick nods, Juniper searched for their mom’s number in their phone and held their stomach with their free hand, quietly pleading with their baby to hold on. The contractions hadn’t gotten too bad yet, but they really hoped that they weren’t too far along yet. More than that, they had hoped that Chris would get their messages soon. They knew Robin wouldn’t abandon them at the hospital, but the last thing they wanted was for Chris to miss the birth of their child.

#Chris #Cat Cow Baby #Junis baby

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taexual · 4 years

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SEVENTEEN (Vocal Unit) / They realize they are in love with you

WARNING: the softest fluff (also, these are long)

JEONGHAN

Jeonghan thought his flu had gotten so bad, he’d imagined the sound of the doorbell.

He’d just texted you – half an hour ago – telling you not to come over, no matter how sick he was, because it was pouring rain outside and he didn’t want you to get sick, too. And then he fell asleep, so now he wasn’t sure which sounds were real and which were—

There it was again. Someone was absolutely ringing the doorbell.

“Joshua!” he tried, bursting into a coughing fit as soon as the word left his lips. “Ah, crap—”

Sneezing immediately after he finished couhing, Jeonghan thought he could distinctly recall ordering the boys in the rooms nearby to evacuate as soon as he got a sore throat, afraid of infecting them, so that meant he was going to have to find a way to get to the door himself.

Halfway out of the door, sniffling and sturggling to properly open his eyes, Jeonghan heard a very familiar gasp. Blinking, he lifted his face to meet your surprised gaze.

“Why are you out of bed?” you demanded.

Too taken aback by your presence – perhaps he’d dreamed telling you not to come? – he stuttered, “the doorbell—”

“Seungcheol opened the door,” you explained, taking him by the arm and guiding him back to his room. “You’re not supposed to be walking.”

“Y-you’re not supposed to be here,” he retorted, shivering as soon as he felt your cold hand on his forehead when you checked for fever. You pulled your hand away after realizing that you were wet from the rain.

“You’re sick,” you countered as you helped him climb back into bed and passed him a tissue as soon as he sneezed again. “And Seungcheol told me you tried to kick everyone out of the house.”

“I just told them t-to—” he sneezed again, “to stay away from my room. I don’t want them to get sick. I don’t want you to get sick, either.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be alone when you’re not feeling well,” you replied, taking your coat and backpack off before sitting down on the edge of his bed and unpacking the provisions you’d brought. “I didn’t know how to make the kind of soup that you like but I hope that—”

“Thank you,” Jeonghan said. He watched the medicine, the themometers, the containers of food, and the nasal sprays that you’d brought, and felt something squeeze his chest – it wasn’t the flu. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, now lie down and—” you replied automatically and then froze, realizing that you’d never actually heard him say that to you before.

Somewhat bewildered, you turned to look at him but Jeonghan – still hovering between dream and reality and, therefore, not sure if he’d just confessed his love to you or if he just thought of doing it – was already lying in his pile of blankets and pillows, his eyes closed and lips parted, seemingly drifting off to sleep.

JOSHUA

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Joshua asked you as he tried to finish reading the last chapter of the book. The feeling of your warm gaze on him distracted him, and was more than enough to decorate his cheeks with the softest shade of pink.

Realizing that he’d caught you staring – but it wasn’t like you were trying very hard to be subtle – you chuckled and looked away. “Like what?”

“Like—I don’t know,” he laughed nervously, not quite sure why his heart had started to beat so quickly. “Like you’d never seen me before.”

You carried on what you were doing and looked back to your phone, explaining in a tone so simple, it seemed like your answer was obvious and it was ridiculous that he didn’t figure that out himself.

“Sometimes it feels like I haven’t,” you explained, “you looked so lost in the book, it felt like I was getting a glimpse into your mind by watching you read,” you paused to give him a look filled with sincerity, “sorry if that was—”

“No, um…” he stopped you, closing his book shut. He had exactly zero chances of getting back into the final chapter and actually understanding how the story resolved. “That’s okay. You just surprised me, I guess.”

“Why?” you asked, a hint of teasing in your voice now. “You’re nice to look at.”

Joshua felt himself inhale with a shudder so intense, he was worried you’d see him shaking from across the room. But, not meaning to make him even more uncomfortable, you’d looked away after you finished speaking, so he had nothing to be nervous about.

Except for the fact that he thought you were nice to look at, too. And the fact that he’d thought so for ages now, but you were friends and he wasn’t supposed to think that about a friend.

“Hey, um,” he started to say before he was aware of opening his mouth, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you replied, too far from him to notice the wild terror in his eyes after he realized there was no going back from this.

“What—uh, h-how do you feel about going out to get food tonight?” he asked, caressing the spine of the book he was still holding in order to get some more courage to clarify the true purpose of his question.

“Okay, that sounds good,” you nodded. “Maybe we can try that all-you-can eat place that just opened a few blocks away?”

That wasn’t exactly the sort of candle-lit dinner he’d imagined, but, swallowing with great difficulty, Joshua nodded, “yeah. Okay. Anything you want.”

Baby steps, he decided. He’d have to figure out a way to make it clear that this was a date once you were already on it.

WOOZI

You had been too busy – too stressed – to see him – really, properly see him – for nearly a month now. All of your meetings consisted of a few minutes, meant to say hello and catch up, and then you were back to taking care of your own personal errands.

Before long, seeing you for two minutes a day didn’t seem enough for Jihoon anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you exhaled heavily, the fifth apology leaving your lips even though you and Jihoon had only been on the phone for about half a minute. “I should be done with this project in a few more weeks tops, and then this will all be over. Really, I am so—”

“No, don’t apologize,” Jihoon asked, feeling bad to be putting extra pressure on you with his insistent phone call. “I understand. I just… I don’t know, I haven’t seen you in so long.”

He wanted to say he missed you. He was going to say he missed you. But he stayed quiet, leaving the words hanging in the air awkwarly.

You bit your lip, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that you’d been hoping to relieve the frustration that’s been brought on by your heavy workload by doing something special for him. Something that he’d clearly not noticed.

“Have you, uh,” you started, having no other choice but to come clean, “checked your mailbox recently?”

“My inbox?” he repeated as his confused eyes darted to his computer where he’d always kept his email open.

“No, your mailbox,” you clarified and then explained, “your physical mailbox at your house.”

Jihoon looked almost alarmed. “No. I don’t think anyone checks that thing, we get our bills online and don’t care much for ads. S-should I, er—should I have checked it?”

“Yeah,” you said, nervous now. “Call me back after you do.”

He promised he would and leaped off his office chair. Nearly slipping on the wooden floors as he bolted through the door of his room and into the hallway outside of the apartment, Jihoon realized he’d left the key of the mailbox back inside.

Honestly, at that point, he was curious enough to physically pry the mailbox open but, groaning and huffing with irritation, he settled for the conventional way and returned inside to grab the key.

What he saw inside of the mailbox almost made him sit right down on the floor.

You’d mailed him a letter. Every single day. Actually, you didn’t mail it – the envelopes had no stamps on – you must have delivered the letters yourself, early in the morning before you had to go to work.

Jihoon wondered why you didn’t call him instead, but the answer was obvious: you knew how late he went to sleep the night before and you didn’t want to wake him.

Still not having caught his breath, Jihoon collected the envelopes and jogged back inside. He was going to call you first, then read them all; he wanted to do both at the same time but some things were more important than the others.

And the most important thing right now was him telling you how much he loved you.

Seokmin didn’t really understand what was happening at first. One moment, he was sleeping – snoring peacefully and possibly even smiling in the dream – and then the next, he was suddenly awake and semi-aware of his surroundings, even if his eyes still felt too heavy to open.

“Hmmm,” mumbling in disorientation, he tried to turn to his side but felt something change in the atmosphere as soon as he did.

The room went quiet.

And, finally, Seokmin realized what’s happened: he’d been sleeping next to you – almost on top of you, at this point – and you’d been humming. Actually humming a quiet cheerful tune under your breath and, despite the comfort it brought his tired mind, he’d never heard you humming before. And that’s why he woke up.

“Sorry,” you whispered, putting down the book that you’d been reading while he slept. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, please,” he spoke, his voice groggy and laced with sleep. Throwing his arm around your waist as he absentmindedly nuzzled his face into your neck, he asked, “sing for me.”

You would have laughed if you didn’t feel so overwhelmed with his body warmth. “You’re asking me to sing for you?”

“Yes,” he said and sighed in content when one of your hands dropped above his head, your nervous fingertips gently touching his hair.

Seokmin had never felt so safe – so at home – before and he realized with frightening clarity that he never wanted to leave. So, tightening his grip around you, he settled firmly on one thing and one thing only: he was going to stay here forever.

“Sing me to sleep,” he asked again, bringing a smile to your lips with his ambiguous request, “but let me stay awake so I can listen.”

SEUNGKWAN

More than half of the time that Seungkwan spent with you, he was laughing. It was either at the jokes that you’d made, or at your shared ability to abandon all sensibility and behave like reckless idiots just for the fun of it. If someone had seen the two of you then, they would have probably thought you were both high on every drug imaginable.

And Seungkwan cherished moments like that – he cherished the pain in his cheeks, the hollowness of his lungs when he thought he’s suffocate from laughing so much, and the bruises on his thighs from clapping against them so hard each time you said something funny.

“God, I’m really going to die like this,” he said to you one time, wiping a tear from his eye.

Seungkwan almost started to laugh again as soon as he saw that you’d transcended the laughter state and were now in the “silent tremors” state where your body was shaking from how funny this was, but you were physically incapable of producing any sort of sound anymore.

“Stop!” he demanded, bringing his hand over your knee because you were too far for him to touch in a more forceful way. “I can’t breathe anymore!”

But you didn’t stop – you couldn’t – and soon enough, you were both almost literally on the floor, still laughing, even though neither of you could remember what was it that started this anymore. You’d slow down every now and then, the laughter dissipating, but then a memory – or the sight of each other’s faces, still framed in joy – would start it all up again.

“I c-can’t feel my stomach,” you spoke as you leaned against the wall, trying to get yourself together, but still giggling uncontrollably. “This is like exercise.”

Seungkwan had almost stopped but now he was laughing again – and, naturally, you were, too – and he had to cover his face with his hands because, dear God, this was never going to end!

“Exercise,” he said in-between fits of laughter, “is nowhere near as fun as this. Ah, I’m not sure I can stand up.”

Still laughing weakly, you managed to get back on your feet and extended a hand for him. “I blame you, by the way. You started it.”

“Did I?” he wasn’t sure.

“Of course! You always make me laugh.”

“You always make me laugh!” he countered as if this was a very serious accusation and, within a moment, you were both giggling again. “God, my face hurts so much. I love it. I love you.”

Even though he was still laughing as he said it – and you were, too – you couldn’t miss the sincerity in his voice and the emotion behind his words because, jokes and laughter aside, it matched the emotions inside of your own chest.

So, you laughed harder – forcing him to push your hand away because now he was laughing, too – because this was your way of telling him that you loved him, too.

#seventeen #seventeen reactions #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfiction #yoon jeonghan #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #jeonghan #fanfiction #joshua #hong jisoo #woozi #lee jihoon #lee seokmin #dokyeom #seungkwan #boo seungkwan #oooiiii back at it again with a completed request!

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butwhyduh · 4 years

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hi! could i get a hurt/comfort dick grayson x fem! reader ? i’ve been having a shitty start to the new year (already) and i just know he’d make it better 🥰

I’m sorry anon 😢 I took some liberties with what you mean by a shitty day since it could mean anything and described one I had back in November.

Warning: mentions groping

You sat staring out at the drizzling rain on your kitchen window. A warm cup of tea was cupped in your hand. It didn’t help. Your day was just completely shitty.

Everyone was on edge at work and you’d been rained on 3 times that day. Even after your shower, you still felt cold to your bones. Some asshole had tried to grope you on the train. You’d managed to deflect his hands and get away but that’s why you were rained on the third time; getting off a stop early.

Dick was also late. That wasn’t really a surprise. He basically lived at work, either jobs. But right now you hated that you were alone. All you wanted to do was cry.

Dick came in the door with his wet bag and damp jacket and didn’t sit them by the door but sat the sodden things on the table you had just cleaned. That was all you needed to burst into tears.

“My fucking table,” you said wetly and Dick looked up quickly. His neutral face changed to a look of concern.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He said coming around the table to place his hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay? I’ll clean the table.”

Dick was very perceptive and a literal detective but it didn’t take much deducing to realize that you weren’t truly angry about a little rain water on the table.

“I’m just-“ you started. “It’s just a really shitty day. Everything sucks.”

He pulled you up into a hug. His arms wrapped around your shoulders and he rubbed your back. You hugged his waist and buried your face in his shirt. Dick reached a hand up to pet at your hair.

“I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?” He said softly. Always sweet to you.

“Work sucked and it’s raining and I got groped on the train,” you said miserably. Dick stiffened a little but didn’t stop his hands rubbing you soothingly.

“What happened on the train?” He said attempting to sound casual but it sounded more like semi-detached rage.

“Just some ass tried to grab my ass. I twisted his hand like you showed me,” you said looking up at him. Dick’s jaw clenched before relaxing.

“Did you get a look at his face or any markings like tattoos,” Dick said. He couldn’t really do anything about it as a detective. No evidence and all. But Nightwing could conveniently remind this guy with his fist to respect women.

“No. Nothing like that. It was just a minute-“

“Doesn’t matter. It’s still very wrong. If I can stop him-“

“Dick, just... let’s lay on the couch and watch a movie. I don’t want to talk about it. Can we do that?” You asked with a plead in your voice. His face softened.

“Of course, baby. Come on,” he said pulling you to the couch. Dick laid down and pulled you on his chest. The blanket on the back of the couch was pulled on top of you and he threw on one of your favorite movies.

You laid listening to his heartbeat and felt secure. Dick’s fingers ran soft circles on your back and felt warm and smelled nice. It didn’t take much for you to fall asleep.

Meanwhile Dick had texted Babs who had hacked into the surveillance footage of the train and was looking for the jerk. Legally he’d drop it. The next time he was on patrol, Nightwing might pay this guy a visit.

Be a good boyfriend first. Then kick the crap out of the creep.

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson fluff #fns

115 notes · View notes

peeterparkr · 4 years

Text

perennial;tom holland|two.

chapter two: yellow alstroemeria

↳ flower meaning: friendship

chapter summary: to heal with a friend.

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: angsty a bit, but confort and friendship! mentions of alcohol and mention of sex

word count: 8.1k

SOCIAL MEDIA BEFORE THE CHAPTER:

masterlist & profiles one: in which y/n decides to go back to social media and sees a surpirse.

previous chapter next chapter perennial masterlist.

perfidy ( series masterlist)

wanna be tagged?

Hello! Here’s the next one, please, please, please tell me what you think! And please help me out, tags haven’t been working. Also, thanks to everyone who voted for the cast, you’re gonna love it, and I might announce it soon!

There are flowers that need sunlight, flowers that don’t. You needed the sun to be bright again to bloom. Good thing, sunshine was coming back to your life.

You felt like everything was going great. For the first time you were doing something that you loved and you felt like you were actually healing. It had been different from last time, you were not alone. You were loved, you were being taken care of. Tim and Emma were there for you and you were so incredibly happy you had them. It was like somehow, this time you’d be able to get things done.

Especially on that particular day, you had woken up happy. You had decided to treat yourself to some pancakes with strawberries and cherries on top. Your phone had decided to be kind to you that day, and you were, too. A happy song was the first one to play as soon as you hit the music shuffle. ‘The Tide is High’ by Blondie, the gentle notes were only adding to the perfect scenario. The flowers that your aunt had gifted you, gaillardias, were blooming, you had a smile on your face and everything seemed to be going great. You even danced a little as you were leaving the apartment and walked to the bus.

It had been a few weeks, almost a month since you’d arrived in Los Angeles, and you were thriving.

Your script finally had a name. “Dos-à-dos.” A dancing step, so simple. The 80’s dance movie no one had asked for, but somehow you knew everyone one needed. It felt different seeing your dream and vision starting to come to life.

You couldn’t help but smile, you had this feeling that something was going to happen. On the bus, you nodded your head along to the music as if it was a movie scene and the spotlight was on you. You felt like the main character just after the storm had finished. Happy notes, colourful day.

A bright glimpse in your sight, and you had even found yourself blushing. It had been so different from last time. You had friends, and god, they were such good friends. Especially because Emma and you had been healing together, some days were easier, some others weren’t, but you had each other. Dancing, laughing, crying together. Going out together, staying late at night laughing. And Tim, too. He really had his life going great. He had been offered to work in a modelling agency as a side job to his director’s assistant job. Emma was working in a costuming department, and she also did some waitressing as a side job.

You were working at the flower and coffee shop, too. It somehow made everything nice, after a long day walking to a place that smelled of coffee and flowers. Your aunt really helped you heal with the flowers, learning from them. She was so nice, and she always gave the right advice.

Hollywood, huh. Dreams seemed impossible, and yet you were reaching them. You were happy.

Because you weren’t alone. And you were working on another project with them, three film graduates healing from heartbreak can make quite a team. And it was fun, so different from London. In a city where everybody wanted to make a name for themselves. And there you were. Ending up in diners at 3 am, going out biking, being stuck in traffic with the car you’ve managed to lease for the three of you.

After a long day of work you still had a lot of happy thoughts. Emma and Tim had gotten an invitation to a party, and in Hollywood, you have to go to them, you never know who you’d end up meeting. Maybe it’s the person that will make you reach the stars, or maybe not. Like a different kind of job interview, meet the right people, make a name out for yourself.

But you didn’t want to go to a party that night, Emma had insisted on staying with you but you assured her you were doing just great.

You had decided to have fun by yourself, you had been tired and you really needed some me time.It had been a happy day, the pre-production was going phenomenal. There were still a lot of corrections going on but the casting was almost over apparently, and filming would start soon and that had you on the edge of your seat. They had said you’d like them. You trusted them. A new director had called to play in, and he’d produce, too. You’d meet him soon. Apparently, he had heard about the project and offered to be director.

Things were going great.

You poured a glass of wine from the bottle you had on the fridge, it literally only had enough for one damned glass, honestly, that’s all you needed.

You had an old vinyl player, thank god Emma and Tim had agreed on buying it with you, and you had brought some pieces of vinyl from home. You went through your vinyls, and stopped just as you saw your favourite one. The one Tom had given you on your last birthday. Your birthday.

That was going to be soon but you just liked to ignore that fact. It really didn’t matter, honestly.

But you weren’t ready to listen to anything related to Tom yet. You weren’t exactly ready to go back to Tom.

You wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim that every now and then he did cross your mind. That was a lie, he lived rent-free on your mind and heart 24/7. You wondered how he was doing. Had he healed? Was he still angry you left? Had he finally understood why you had left?

He hadn’t reached out for you. You wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim you had texted him once, though. One final: “I’m really sorry, I love you.”

He hadn’t answered. Of course that had been stupid.

You wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim, you knew how friends go: forget him. But could you? You missed him and you really had expected him to come here and maybe pull one of those stupid scenes you hated from rom coms, maybe he’d walk to your apartment, it would have to rain, but it barely ever rained in Los Angeles, but in your scenario, it would. And even if he didn’t know where you live he would show up at the door, and he would try to give a speech of how you are the only one he wants, or how both of you should forget everything and give it another chance because that’s love or whatever crap they say in romcoms, and you’d jump to his arms and kiss him and forget about everything. Kiss him again and again.

But this was real life.

So he wouldn’t.

Of course you wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim that late at night you’d miss him. Or in the morning or the middle of the day. You even missed fighting with him, having to come up with silly comebacks to his stupid comments. You wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim that you missed his ugly face or his stupid laugh.

No, you wouldn't tell them.

But of course, that night you decided you’d have a ‘me, myself, and I’ kind of party. And so you did. Playing music that would make you happy, that you could dance along to.

And it was the day you’d decided to go back on social media. After a long, long time of not being able to be on your phone for more than 2 minutes, you logged in. You saw pictures of your brother, Emma, Tim. Pictures you’d taken of them. Something you’d gone back to, photography. It was nice. At least that way you could keep Harry’s memory alive.

Harry.

You wished you hadn’t lost him. The question he’d asked had lingered in your mind, had things been different, would it really be different?

Maybe you did think about it. How it could’ve been him. But would it? You had time to think about it.

Maybe you were trying to repress his memory because you knew he was supposed to be with Emma. But you couldn’t ignore the fact that Harry had still… tried something. Of course it was complicated.

But you knew your heart was stupid and stubborn and it belonged only to one person. Would you call him, soon?

Would Tom even answer?

Because though the time spent with him had been way shorter than the time apart, it had been strong enough to be engraved on your soul. That’s the thing about true love, or stubborn love, you love for the sake of loving. And if you were given another chance, you’d take it, no questions asked. Another hoax if you may, if he wants to. You could ruin another’s city echo. You would risk staining another street with hopeless memories only to see him again. More blank pictures, more unwearable dresses and lipsticks waiting to be kissed. A new box. You didn’t hate him. You hoped he didn’t hate you, and you wish you could turn back around to his arms.

And then… there it was. Like someone had punched you in your throat. As if you’d run out of air, and your whole body ached. You thought you’d never have that feeling again. You had only been scrolling, dancing to music, singing out loud and now… this. You heard something shattering, at first you thought it was your heart but then your senses came back to see the red wine all over your floor as the remaining broken glass had jumped and clashed.

You stared at it. That was undeniably Tom and he had Cherry’s lips on his cheek.

Why did this hurt that much? Why—why had he done this? Had he moved on? Did—he and Cherry start dating?

Had he moved on? So quickly erase your memory? And with your—cousin? You quickly locked your phone.

You quickly got back from your shock and rushed to clean everything up, pretending you hadn’t just seen what you’d seen. Pretending it had just been your imagination. And pretending you didn’t believe it.

But then you opened it again, and there he was, arms around Cherry, smile wide open, as Cherry was cupping his head and smiling against his stupid face.

And you only sensed an atrophied heart falling down shattering completely. What did you expect from him? To wait around for you? He wouldn’t.

He’d move on and of course he’d like someone like Cherry. Cherry was a goddess. A goddamn perfect goddess.

You weren’t like Cherry, of course he’d turn around to see the sculptured doll life had presented him. She was beautiful. A model like fairy queen whatever.

And you were you.

But didn’t he—love you? But of course, right you’d hurt him so much and you were a fool to think that someone like him could wait for someone like you when he’d hurt you.

It was like the damn mirror was being your worst enemy again. You were not Cherry, with her perfect eyes and lips and body. You weren’t Cherry who probably cared too little about her appearance but ended up being perfect. So careless and free. Never planning.

Tom preferred her over you, right? Because you were not enough. You felt it. Every single doubt coming to your mind. Was it your hair? Your makeup? Your body. What is it that she was a perfect fashion guru or that she wasn’t a handful like you. Was it that she probably didn’t dive in.

Or maybe that you were too easy to get over, too forgettable, nothing extraordinary. But… You had to stop yourself from going back to that place. You were okay, right?

You were you. That was great. You didn’t need anything else, and this was on him, not on you. This was him trying to date someone else for whatever reason.

You had to stop comparing yourself, no, no. But you couldn’t help it. And you went back to the picture.

But that’s the thing, you guessed, about jealousy. So, so, so jealous of her. But jealousy is a horrible feeling that only ends up killing us from the inside. God, but you were still thinking about Tom. You should’ve told Cherry, but that wouldn’t be fair play. You didn’t blame Cherry, Tom was… Tom.

But maybe you should’ve warned her that his smile was the biggest weapon he’d use against her, and tell her that maybe he’s perfect but he’ll end up making her give him her biggest weakness and he’ll use them as a weapon. That he’ll be an angel, but it’s only a disguise. He was a devil.

And that once you taste his lips you’ll never be able to live without them again. But no, Tom was only pain. Yes.

But you had to forget him now. Because he’d forgotten you. Probably he was only a mistake, someone to add to the book, but gosh, no, it couldn’t be. He was an idiot.

You looked at the picture. Why?

No, no… How could this be? Why the hell were you crying and why the hell did it feel so bad? Like a dagger coming right through you, like you couldn't breathe, everything had turned dark again.

You did the only thing you could do then, lay down and cry. Because were you going to call him and tell him to go fuck himself? You didn’t have the right to. You were the one who had gone away. But if only you hadn’t. And you had the enraging and flaming jealousy burning through you, the sadness was bigger. You’d be jealous later. And what would happen if you showed up?

Why did he do it?

This was on you. You’d given up, but it hurt so much. You couldn’t even figure out your thoughts, like a million things popping up, but nothing made sense and you couldn’t stop feeling that head and stomach ache, the heartache. You finally took a deep breath that was confused with a sob. Drowning.

It wasn’t raining in LA, yet you saw your room flooding, water entering from everywhere, and you couldn’t move. You weren’t able to breathe, you were only sinking. Had it all been in vain?

Maybe…

Maybe.

Your sorrow was too loud yet you barely made any noise, all curled up in your bed, feeling cold, and drowning, suffocating. The music was still playing, life laughing at you. And you knew it then, it was over. You were broken in two and there was no way to fix this now. Not right now. He’d given up on loving you. You’d lost him, and you wondered, would you ever try to turn back time to stop yourself from loving him if only you had known you’d end up losing him anyway.

“Y/N—no, Timmy let me handle this, let me--She’s not okay, okay, I know Tim, but you will only make things worse,” a muffled voice was heard outside your room after a while, Emma walked in to see you pitying yourself, as you danced hugging a pillow as you hummed along to the music still playing. She closed the door. “Are you okay?” She asked, and you didn’t lookup. “What a fucking stupid question of course you’re not,” she answered herself as she walked over with some takeout, another bag and two six-packs of beers. “Here, bottoms up, thought beer would go better with this” she said, handing you a beer over. It worked well as a microphone.

You sang along to the music, not even knowing when the hell you’d started playing that ABBA vinyl. She joined you, knowing that was probably what you needed. Heartaches are a weird thing, you didn’t even know what the hell you were going through, denial, probably. The cold tears kept streaming down as you were probably now in a state of denial, as you danced along your room.

And then, it hit. The pain, again. You sank to the ground and then rested against your bed.

Emma sat on the edge of the bed watching you. Emma sighed as she sank to the ground with you. you breathed in a sob as she pulled you into a hug, somehow being comforted made you even sadder.

“It’ll be okay,” she assured you. “It’ll be okay.”

You tried to soothe your sobs as you sat up. “This is stupid, why am I even crying I don’t care-”

“No, men are stupid—” Emma stated, you only chuckled softly. “Show me the picture.”

You handed her your phone, and she stared at it. Emma grimaced and then stayed incredibly quiet.

“So?”

She took a deep breath. “Okay—first we need to unfollow them both,” she said.

“But—”

She held the phone far from you as she unfollowed them. “Y/N you're going to keep going back and we don’t want that.”

You sighed, she pulled out some tissues from the bag and cleaned your face with them. You chuckled. She handed you some pills, and then walked over to your mirror, she opened a drawer and took out your makeup wipes. She walked back and wiped off the remaining makeup that hadn’t been absorbed by the tears.

“Do you think they’re—” You couldn’t even finish the question.

Emma bit her lip, knowing exactly what you’d meant. “I don’t know, I don’t know Tom enough.”

You groaned. She thought they were dating.

Emma realized it’d been the wrong answer. “It’s cause,” she paused as she took a deep breath. “Look, I didn’t know about this, you and Tom. Honestly, when Timmy told me I—I didn’t expect it you know?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, like… If you asked me anything concerning Tim and, I’d know, but... You and Tom? But guess it—”

“Didn’t make any sense, yeah I know,” you sighed.

“No, it did,” Emma said. “In a weird way. Even--,” she cleared her throat. “Harry said it once, how he wondered why you guys never dated…I never told Timmy about it but it—It made sense,” Emma nodded. “Him being in love with you made a lot of sense. that’s probably why he was always so attentive and obsessed and—”

“Yeah—Emma you’re not answering my question,” you gulped.

Emma chuckled. “What was the question?”

“They’re dating right?” You asked, showing her the screenshot.

She bit her lip, staring at it. “I don’t know.”

“Fuck, maybe not dating but—”

“Look y/n, I don’t know but—”Emma sighed. “Does it matter? This is a sign that you have to move on.”

“I don’t know why I feel this way,” you admitted.

“It’s normal.”

Was it normal? You didn’t know. But you were angry, sad, disappointed. You couldn’t even map your emotions. What were you even feeling? What was it? Jealousy? Anger? Sadness?

“I mean I guess I did ask him to move on,” you pointed out.

Emma sighed. “Didn’t you ask him to heal?” She had handed you the Chinese takeout she’d brought you as both of you sat on the floor. You stared at the food, but you weren’t even hungry.

“Isn’t it the same?”

“Not really y/n,” she said as she stared at her noodles before taking a bite. “You asked him to give you time because you wanted to try it out again.”

“I’m such an idiot.”

“Maybe it’s just a rebound,” Emma said.

“But it’s my cousin!” You cried. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”

“I mean you kind of—with his brother,” She pointed out.

“It’s not the same and you know that,” you rolled your eyes as she laughed .”Because -I didn’t.”

“I’m messing with you, but I know, I know but..”

“I don’t know,” you sighed. Because you really didn’t know. What was going on? What the hell?

“And cherry didn’t know?” Emma asked, as she changed the box with you, now you had the noodles and she had the chicken. It had become a habit with Emma, sharing food.

“I didn’t tell her,” you admitted.

Emma scoffed. “Oh, but come on,” Emma frowned. “Like, it was obvious, like… Please he showed up with flowers to your house? And isn’t she like a fucking flower guru or some shit why the hell didn’t she read the room?”

You finally took a bite before drinking your beer. “I...well.”

“But still no, you know what? Tom is the one who’s shit here,” Emma said.

“Is he?” You asked.

“Fuck yes,” Emma chirped. “Like, come on, what the fuck? He was so angry at you because you left saying you’d thrown it away,” she dramatized. “But he is the one to throw it all out!”

“You think?” You frowned.

Emma rolled her eyes. “I know that!” She snapped. “he—let me see the pic, again.”

You showed her again.

“I just didn’t think he’d move on that quickly you know,” you pointed out.

“Yeah I—it doesn’t add up,” Emma agreed.

“I feel stupid for feeling this way,” you sighed.

“No you’re not stupid you’re human and he’s an asshole,” she said.

“He’s not--” You gulped. “That’s—that’s the thing, okay? And I don’t want to call him that because that’s the reason as to why it all went to shit, because I called him a monster.”

“Look y/n, I know you still feel guilty about it but that man has hurt you multiple times throughout his life, he’s done some awful shit to you, and yes you hurt him too but he’s shown that he doesn’t deserve your love.”

“But I want to love him,” you said. “Or wanted.”

“Yes, alright and that’s fair,” she admitted. “But he’s a man and all men suck.”

“Right.”

You stayed quiet for a while as you both ate, sang along to the music still faintly playing in the background, changing boxes, drinking beer. Leaning against your bed, both on the floor.

“And like—Cherry is so pretty of course he’d date her,” you commented after a while.

“She’s pretty and so what?” Emma shrugged. “You’re beautiful y/n.”

“And she is—so perfect and I’m,” you continued. The poisonous thoughts coming back to you.

“Y/N no don’t you dare compare yourself to her,” Emma warned.

“But how can I not?” You stated. “She’s bloody perfect, her hair her clothes, she’s just-”

“Yeah, and look at you, you are fucking beautiful, alright? Look at you, so bloody beautiful and perfect, and talented and you’re amazing and you’ve got great music taste, but y/n don’t compare yourself to her!”

“Why not? Because we both know she’s a model and-”

“She’s attractive, yes! But you are too! You’re amazing y/n!”

“Then why did he move on? Why—why didn’t he come back for me?” You asked, and the question lingered in the air.

Emma didn’t have an answer to that question.

“I just don’t know how to feel,” you admitted. “I… I am jealous, but sad, and angry and desperate and I know I shouldn’t be.”

“I hate seeing you sad y/n,” Emma said, scooting close to you. “But it’s okay, right now you need to cry it out.”

You didn’t want to keep crying. But you needed, and just as she had said those words, the tears had streamed down again. You leaned against your friend, knowing she really was there for you, but no shoulder to cry on would soothe your sorrow.

“Yes, I’m here for you, it’s okay,” she said.

“I just thought I—” words couldn’t even come out. “it’s stupid but all this time I—I thought he’d come back to me but I guess it was just stupid.”

“No,” Emma said. “It’s not stupid.”

“I just can’t believe he moved on that quickly,” you said, sitting back up, wiping off your tears. “While I’m here crying over him and thinking about him all the goddamn time and I—I can’t believe he’d hurt me again but he probably doesn’t even know I care,” you continued with a sob, barely even breathing now. “And I—I’ve been pretending I’m doing fine but I just can’t forget about him and god it’s stupid that I keep—doing this.”

“Cry it out, you’ve gotten out of it before,” Emma said. “We don’t even know if they’re dating or-”

“No but the thing is Emma that if I fucking dared to post a pic where Timmy is in the background he’d lose his fucking mind and call me and blame me for it,” you growled. “And he’d make a scene and—And I deserve to make a scene too because—-because it’s too soon and I would’ve-” You took a deep breath as your voice was cracking. “I would’ve thought he’d wait just a little but maybe he doesn’t—I don’t even know why I’m… so upset.”

“Let it out.”

“I don’t even understand why I feel like this, jealous and sad and—I just it should be me, the one with my lips on his cheek and I am angry because maybe I shouldn’t have left! I’m here wondering what could be different, you know? And I”

“Y/n you left because of your dream.”

“And when I go back... what if I never see him again? What if we can’t even say hello or be in the same room.”

“You were like that before,” Emma said.

“But I can’t pretend he’s not the love of my life and I can’t pretend that I won’t love him for the rest of my stupid pathetic life.”

Emma didn’t say anything.

“I just... I am hurt—and I’m not making any sense. I'm just sad because I was going to call him.”

“You what?” Emma asked.

“I thought about it today, how I missed him too much but hey, not anymore, because he’s fucking dating Cherry or he’s fucking Cherry or…”

“It’s probably a rebound y/n.”

“With my bloody cousin? Is he for real?” You were exasperated.

“Men are stupid.”

“Yes but—but I just... I don’t understand this,” you sank to the floor again as you were running out of breath now, until then you noticed you were bursting into tears.

“Come here, it’s okay the pain will end,” Emma opened her arms again.

“I just thought I’d be—alright.”

“And you will, you are still thriving y/n!” She said. “They’re making a movie out of your script! You actually are doing something you love! You’re living with your best friends!” She pointed out.

“I guess.”

“You guess?” Emma frowned as she reached out for your pillow. She playfully hit you with it. “You’re fucking thriving, y/n! And you’re learning a lot of flowers, even if I can’t stand you talking all day about them, y/n you’re doing great!” She said, hitting you with the pillow after every word.

A faint smile was on your face.

“And you know what? You’ll forget about him, soon enough and we will dance and laugh and you’ll be okay,” she assured you.

“Yes.”

“But right now you need to cry and it’s okay,” Emma continued. You nodded. “Okay, what else?”

“And she—she tweeted this,” you showed her.

She frowned. “Love me, love me, say that you love me?” She frowned. “But those are lyrics, ain’t they?” She asked. “And if…Oh sis, look, that girl—Look I know this isn’t what you want to hear but it’s probably what you need to hear but that’s just a very obsessive rebound.”

“What?”

“If she’s in love with him already that’s her problem,” she pointed out.

“Really?”

“Would you fall in love with a man who was so broken?”

“...No”

“Exactly she’s digging her own hole and,-”

But you didn’t let her finish. “I just don’t want her being in my place I should—it’s… and what if he ends up actually loving her?”

Emma sighed. “You’ll find someone too, someone better who won’t hurt you and who will actually fly to another country to search for you instead of blaming it on you for leaving.”

You sighed.

“We are very much alike aren’t we, we both thought they’d come here?” Emma said.

“That’s on us being stupid for expecting something from two men,” you said.

She laughed as she opened more bottles of beer.

“It’ll be alright y/n.”

“I know but right now—“

“I know, I know we need to cry.”

Emma was definitely a friend you needed. And you were a friend to Emma. You hadn’t really had a breakdown, or was mostly helping Emma. You had so far ignored your pain until that night. Maybe because you were trying to assure yourself that it didn’t hurt as much or because you kept the hope that you’d end up together.

But Tom had moved on and you probably had to move on, too.

You woke up the next day with barely any blankets as Emma had stolen all your bed and pillows. You were sore and your eyes hurt from crying.

But you knew this didn’t feel as bad. Somehow it didn’t feel like after the club, or after prom, or after the script, or after whatever.

No. Yes, it hurt. But it felt like a normal kind of pain, like when Louis had broken up with you. Or like when Timmy had tried to start dating another girl just after your breakup. Not the Tom pain.

But it still hurt.

You woke up and you saw Tim, a cup of coffee in his hand as he was leaning against the counter, he was scrolling on his phone.

You walked over and poured some coffee for yourself. You needed some energy after spending all night crying. The morning routine had an unspoken rule, whoever woke up first would make coffee for everyone.

Timmy looked up at you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said.

“Did you get some sleep?” He asked. “Emma is a snorer, so—“

You chuckled. “Yeah, I know,” you sighed as you stared at your coffee.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

You pursed your lips and then shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Emma didn’t tell me what happened,” he admitted.

You frowned. “She didn’t?”

“No, she said I’m a man and I don’t deserve to know,” he said chuckling.

You laughed. “Yeah.”

He grinned. “I mean I kind of can assume what happened.”

“Do you follow Cherry on Instagram?”

“I do not,” he scowled. “But it’s—About Tom. Right?”

“Yeah. Tom’s an idiot.”

“But that’s no news,” Timmy pointed out with a smirk.

You chuckled slightly. “No, I know, same old story.”

Timmy watched you. “But what happened?”

You pulled out your phone and showed the screenshot. It probably would be a good idea to delete it and pretend it didn’t exist. But sometimes we are idiots and like to keep adding salt to the wound.

Timmy grimaced looking at it.

“Verdict?” You asked. “Are they a thing?”

“No,” Timmy assured you. “Knowing Tom,” he said. “He did this to hurt you.”

That—that hurt even more. Because Tim was right. Knowing Tom, this was his way of getting back to you. Knowing Tom he had expected you to see it and cry.

And maybe he had even expected you to call and yell at him.

And that’s when you did hear more shattering, this time it wasn’t a cup, this time it wasn’t the glass of wine. It was your heart and it was undeniable. You could hear it again. The rain pouring down, the ripped off stomach. There it was… the Tom pain.

You hadn’t seen it that way. But it made sense. It hurt more to think that this probably was on purpose. That Tom hadn’t moved on, that Tom was doing this purposely. That he probably expected you to be on the floor tearing yourself apart. Because Tom was probably taking his revenge. And Tom knew that you’d end up comparing yourself. Because that was Tom, he used your weaknesses as his biggest weapons. But you didn’t want to go to war again, no. You had changed, you’d bloom and blossom.

Yet you could only wonder, who dares to plant flowers on a battlefield?

“Y/N?” Timmy asked.

You only took a deep breath. “I’m—Yeah, you’re right.”

“Yeah, he probably thinks this is the way back to your heart, make you jealous or something,” Timmy said. “Nothing to worry about. I’m—Look, I’m pretty sure he still loves you but he’s an idiot.”

Big idiot wanting to tear you apart.

“You know I don’t understand why I’m —feeling this way,” you admitted. Now knowing you were angry and disappointed. Because he probably really wanted to hurt you, give you a spoon of your own medicine. “I—I don’t understand. How many more tears will I have to shed to get over him?”

“We all wonder about that,” Tim nodded.

“I just—I still, I don’t understand why he does that and why even after he does those things I keep loving him.”

“I think you were told so many times that he hurts you because he likes you that you ended up believing it and allowing it,” Timmy explained. “Maybe that’s why you are having trouble getting used to having people who care.”

You didn’t answer anything. He was right. He was so right.

“I guess but I didn’t...I thought this time.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I thought this time it would be different, you know? I thought we would heal and then… have another chance.”

It was so difficult talking about this with Tim. You didn’t know where he was standing with you. But somehow, it had always been easy talking about anything with Tim, he listened. That was his gift. He listened and he was observant so he gave you exactly what you knew was right. His advice even if it hurt him, would be right.

“Maybe you will,” Timmy shrugged. “But you can’t keep yourself tied to him, y/n. It’s—hurtful to keep trying to reach for something that won’t hold back your hand. Give it time. And look, I’m not telling you to move on, because fuck, moving on when you’re in so deep is hard, but be kind to your heart. Don’t let it ache. Not for someone who’s willing to hurt you. And maybe you’ll go back to him, or end up with someone else, but he needs to grow. And if life really wants you to be with him, then life will give you a chance, but I don’t understand why you want to be with someone who does this kind of thing.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Well, is there anything I can do to help?”

You sighed with a smile. “Turn back time, maybe, get me out of my trance.”

“It’s a big city, y/n, we can take the day off, have fun you know? Go to a quiet place, I know that helps you.”

“I don’t know Tim.”

“C’mon, let’s get you out, have some fun,” he insisted.

“Maybe later, I need to assimilate things. Today I’m going to be at a meeting with casting and—yeah.”

The day felt… plain. The usual feeling you were so used to, the Tom pain. But you ignored it, and you saw the cast, it got you excited and back on track. It made you forget about it, about everything, really.

They still hadn’t told you who’d be directing, but he’d arrive next week. They told you that he had personally reached out for the project, a new director. Exciting news, right? But you couldn’t care about them, because you couldn't ignore the ache. The thoughts, the poison. No matter how sunny the day was, you felt gray. And it was almost ironic. How the day before you felt like everything was great, like rain on your wedding day. Ironic. How it was one of the best things that ever happened to you and you weren’t able to enjoy it. How it weighed on your chest.

Your aunt noticed you were sad, but she didn’t ask about it. You guessed she probably had seen the picture, too. It was her daughter, after all. Serving coffee and making flower arrangements did help, somehow. You know, help as much as it could with the sadness that was not allowed to cry and was supposed to smile instead.

You thought about it, how you really wanted to hate him. The city was too bright and happy and you couldn’t escape, you still didn’t think you’d lost him. Maybe that was your pathetic way of pretending it wasn’t over.

Emma tried to convince you to go out that night. You didn’t. She gave you a week, watching movies with you, letting you listen to music, going out to quiet places for dinner, staying up late at night either laughing or crying, and you were really bonding, watching series, sometimes just laying down on the bed together, while you were both on your phones.. Even if she tried to convince you to go out clubbing, and go out and meet someone, she even tried to make you open tinder, you really didn’t have the energy for it. But Timmy had stopped her from trying.

“That’s her way of healing, she likes quiet,” you had heard Timmy warn her.

“But she needs to keep herself busy,” Emma had said.

“I know her, give her a few quiet days.”

“But she’s a fucking mess,” Emma had said. “I saw her add champagne to her green juice this morning.”

“Like a green juice mimosa?” Timmy asked.

“She’s a mess!” Emma said.

“I know, but she needs quiet, and hugs and just, don’t push her,” Timmy continued. “If not, we’ll use your way.”

In that sense, Timmy knew you. That’s probably why he’d suggest movie nights, the three of you. You’d found a place that played old films, you went there, once.

And a week had gone by, and you weren’t doing better. But you knew it was normal, it was the Tom pain, the Tom effect. The one that didn’t go away easily. The one that lasted, the one that would stay forever. The perennial type of pain, that may be dormant for a while but would come once again. The Tom pain.

But you felt… that horrible thought came back. How she was prettier or skinnier or smarter or perfect and that maybe he hadn’t done it because he wanted to hurt you. That he genuinely liked her. And why wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t he like her over you? She seemed more of the type fit for him and not you. She was probably the kind of girl that he would like to be seen with. Not you.

Cherry. Cherry. Cherry. It was funny how she was named after Cherryblossoms. Meaning renewal. And that was Tom’s new model, wasn’t it?

Poisonous thoughts that were killing you slowly. And that constant headache.

“Okay, that’s it, we’re doing it my way,” Emma had stated. You’d be going out that night, which you only wondered if it was right. You couldn’t be hungover the next day since you’d be meeting the director. Finally.

But Emma had convinced you. You dressed up, and showered with perfume, and you were ready to simply forget about him. Of course Emma stopped you and then did your makeup and made you change your outfit, which obviously hadn’t been picked out well, but who really gets fashion when they’re broken hearted.

The three roommates, out and happy. Walking into a club, more like a bar sort of place with a dance floor, the three of you sat by the bar.

“Alright, y/n, here’s the thing we’re gonna do some shots,” Emma stated as she ordered shots for the three of you. “And look, I’ve heard you and right now, y/n, we need… We just need you to forget about him, alright?”

“Fine.”

And so it started, the party you so well needed. Maybe you’d changed enough that quiet was definitely not what you needed. And maybe Emma had been right all along. You needed fun. And so fun you had, and you kept drinking and singing along to the music and Emma even dragged you to the dance floor. Yelling lyrics, coming up with new ones and terrible dance steps. Timmy only stayed behind watching you both, he was very amused by the situation. He knew this wasn’t really your thing but, it was fun and exciting and thrilling.

Then the second part of Emma’s plan started, she walked back to the bar and made you sit there.

“Now we wait.”

“For what?” You asked.

“Please, give it two seconds and men will come like this,” she snapped. “They’re soooo desperate, and we’re pretty and we need free booze, so,” she grinned. You could tell she was tipsy by now.

“I don’t really want to… flirt with anyone,” you said.

“Flirt,” she scoffed. “C’mon y/n, you need a cleanse! Tom’s the last man you slept with right?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Can we not talk about that?” Timmy laughed.

“Oh, please, Tim, did you think that she wouldn’t sleep with that guy who’s basically sex on legs,” Emma said.

Timmy blinked. “That’s a very weird way to talk about your ex financés brother.”

You laughed. “Sex on legs? Oh come on, I didn’t sleep with him for that.”

“I get it, you were in loooove all that shit,” Emma continued. “And it’s been… What? Two months?” She asked.

“Almost three, yeah,” you rolled your eyes.

“See? You need one good hook up and you’ll be fine,” Emma said.

Timmy chuckled. “Does that even work?”

“Good question, have you hooked up with anybody?” You asked. “Because if you have and you’re still-”

“No, I haven’t,” Emma admitted. “I’ve… made out with some guys but nothing really, but maybe that’s what we both need. Or the three of us, just one… random hookup. We need someone to fuck those guys out of our system.”

Timmy and you shared a questioning look.

“I don’t really—“

“Now, Timmy please leave otherwise you’ll ruin the place, go pick up some girl and dance with her,” Emma ordered.

Timmy didn’t even have time to say anything before Emma was pushing him away.

Soon enough, Emma was right, two guys had approached the two of you and offered to buy you both drinks. The conversation was boring. Honestly you didn’t even listen to their names, they were probably the stereotype of guys who feel they’re attractive enough to get their shot in Hollywood. They were talking and talking, the guy interested in Emma wasn’t half as bad, but you still didn’t stand him. Eventually the guy with Emma managed to get her to the dance floor and the guy with you realized you were not all interested and thank god, eventually walked away.

Two other guys tried to creep up on you but you threw them away, easily and quickly. You were very good at making them go away, maybe that was why Tom had… No, you had to keep that thought out of your head.

“Hello, ma’am May I buy you a drink?” you heard a voice behind you.

You laughed. “Timmy.”

He grinned as he sat beside you. “I’m sorry I just saw a beautiful girl all by herself and I want to buy her a drink.”

“Please don’t,” you grinned.

“I’m just trying to cheer you up,” he admitted, laughing as he took a sip of his own drink.

“Aren’t you interfering with Emma’s plan?” You asked.

He rolled his eyes. “I thought you were doing that yourself by rejecting everyone approaching you,” he claimed.

“Yes I just don’t think that a one night stand with meaningless sex will help me,” you said.

“I agree with that,” he conceded.

You looked around at the bar, you had had fun when you had danced with your friends but not now. Timmy lit up a cigarette and offered you one, you never were a smoker but a cigarette seemed like an open invitation. “I didn’t want to come,” you admitted.

“I didn’t either,” Timmy said.

“But you always go out with her, you like it.”

“No… Well, yeah, because I know this is helping her, not because I like it, you know this isn’t really my thing but she’s keeping herself distracted, that's her way of healing,” Timmy said.

“Huh, right,” you nodded.

“And I know yours involves watching movies in a quiet place, and curling up and all that things,” he continued.

“Yeah,” you smiled sadly.

“He’s an idiot you know,” he looked down at his cigarette.

“Yes he is,” you nodded in agreement as you sipped from your drink.

“Letting you go?” He scoffed, rolling eyes and shaking his head. “Although I do admit it was pretty smart.”

“What?” you frowned with a chuckle.

“I should’ve thought about it,” he continued with a smirk.

“What?” You playfully nudged him.

“Dating your cousin, that’s clever, closest thing to the actual thing,” he snickered.

“Oh thing then,” you laughed.

He chuckled and then looked away with a silly smile. “Yes, but she’s not half as pretty.”

“She is a goddamn model,” you chided.

Tim coughed. “As an actual model,” he reminded you with a smug smirk.

“Oh shut up,” you chuckled.

“As an actual model, I can tell you that she’s not half as pretty as you are,” he assured you.

You blushed. “You’re blind.”

He grinned. “Hmm I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

“I’d see a mess,” you stated.

“Yeah, who drinks green juice mimosas apparently,” he laughed. “But… Pretty mess.”

You laughed. “It’s not...It’s a thing. Green mimosas.”

“It’s not,” he turned serious.

You only grinned.

“So what’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this?” He asked.

“I’m having fun,” you stated. “Ain’t that obvious?”

“You’re not from around here are you?” He chuckled.

“What gave it away?” You smirked.

“So what brought you to Hollywood?” He laughed.

“What brings everyone I guess, a hopeful promise,” you lied.

He grinned. “Hm, and how’s that going?”

“Huh,” you chuckled.

You didn’t even realize where the conversation had gone to. You ordered drinks, laughed and watched Emma yet again, like Tim had said, turn down another man. Drunkenly the three of you managed to get back home, but you and Tim kept talking and talking, and laughing.

After Emma, too drunk to even continue, was tucked in her bed, you and Tim headed to the couch where you both kept talking about silly things. His job, your job, about the project the three of you were planning, everything but Tom. The difference of being here in LA, how you missed London, but didn’t at the same time, the way that you both found funny people in the bus or the way you hadn’t crossed into any celebrity yet. About the script, and how it felt weird to see it come true, with your life, your love story. Was it love? How different it felt, and how you barely believed it. The way that you didn’t know what to write next.

And you didn’t know how it happened, really. You couldn’t even tell if it had been the alcohol, the conversation, the heartache, a combination of those three things, or maybe not. The absence of love, or how it felt like you had never really had one last proper kiss.

But his lips were on yours. And you really didn’t mind that his hands were pulling you close to him. You really, truly didn’t mind.

Except for the fact that you probably didn’t care and he did.

You pulled away as you felt his hand exploring a bit more than necessary.

“Timmy this isn’t —this isn’t okay,” you said but you weren’t stopping, and he didn’t either. “I don’t want to trick you into doing this,” you said.

“You’re not tricking me,” Tim said as he pulled away. “We both...Fuck this is wrong,” but his lips were back on yours, and your hands were on the hem of his shirt.

“But, no, no,” you finally pulled away. “Tim, no, no, I… can’t.”

“I know, I know, but…”

“I can’t do this to you.”

“I’m not complaining,” he pushed.

“But…”You didn’t even know what the hell you were doing. “I…”

He didn’t even let you finish as he was kissing you again. And again, and again, and again. Until clothes were on your bedroom floor, sweaty wandering hands and lips discovering new spots. Sweet new sensations, and savoury rough kisses. Colliding again, and again, and again. You really didn’t know what you were doing, he probably didn’t either. Because yes, flowers need sunlight, but somehow, something was blooming in the dark.

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litwitlady · 4 years

Text

to shift the stars

Winter has come and gone. The snow melted and washed away. Alex is at the junkyard. Surrounded by newly bloomed wildflowers, bumble bees buzzing past, and the comforting warmth of the springtime sunshine.

He wraps his jacket around him tighter. Because he is still cold.

The airstream’s generator is purring quietly. But Michael’s truck is gone. He knocks anyway. Once, twice. And the door pops open. Unlocked and begging him to enter. So, he does.

Inside looks the same as always. Neatly cluttered. Clean and soaked in the smell of rain. The humidity from Michael’s last shower still clinging to air, dense and close. Alex sends him a text. A simple – at your trailer. Settles down into Michael’s bed to wait.

It’s not the first time he’s waited here for Michael. But he’s hoping for a better outcome. Even though they haven’t spoken to each other in several weeks. But things are different now. In what way, he’s not sure. Some tiny shift in the stars maybe. Or a cosmic imbalance finally tilting true.

He glances down at his phone. No response yet. There’s a box on the bed next to him. From what Alex can see, it’s filled with various odds and ends. Scraps of paper with faded calculations, a picture of Michael with his siblings, half-used pencil stubs and more than one empty whisky bottle. All little jagged tiles in the mosaic of Michael’s life.

Alex slides the box closer, meaning to get a better look at the picture. But something beneath a dented belt buckle catches his eye instead. It’s another picture – this one taken so long ago. Him and Michael, the desert, and two guitars. He tugs the photo free and finds a yellow sticky note attached. His own handwriting.

Stopped by. AM

His breath catches. A lost memory from over a year ago now. Michael’s we’re not good for each other speech suddenly playing on repeat in his head. He chucks the picture and the note back into the box and rises to leave. The air hanging too dense – too close.

Swinging the door open, his prosthetic shifts awkwardly in his rush to escape and he falters, stumbling down the steps. Landing in Michael’s outstretched arms. ‘Jesus, Alex. Are you okay?’

Alex steadies himself against Michael’s chest, reaching down to readjust his leg. ‘I’m fine. Just tripped.’

Michael holds onto him until his balance has fully returned. ‘I got your text.’

‘Yeah, um, I was just dropping by. Hadn’t seen you in a while. I’ll get out of your hair.’ But he doesn’t move. Rooted to the pull of Michael after so long.

‘Come inside. Rest your leg.’ Michael hops up into the airstream and reaches out his hand. Alex gives one last fleeting glance to Explorer and then lets Michael help him inside.

Alex collapses onto Michael’s bed again. Back beside the box. Picture and note taunting him. He can’t shift his eyes away and Michael immediately notices.

‘That’s just some old crap I’ve been meaning to toss out. Most everything in there’s broken.’ He shrugs his shoulder and throws a pen in the box. ‘Out of ink.’

‘You could buy more ink.’ Alex’s voice is dripping with ire – a swell of unexpected fury hollowing out his chest.

Michael furrows his brow, frowns. ‘Okay. You sure you’re alright? Did you really just come here to talk or are we back to the yelling part again?’

The last time they’d seen each other had been a blowout. In the middle of the Wild Pony, no less. Maria literally dragging them out the backdoor, metaphorically kicking them to the curb. Their most weaponized words still tattooed on Alex’s heart.

Alex sighs. ‘I don’t want to fight.’ His eyes dart back to the box.

‘Why were you running away earlier? Looked like you’d seen a ghost.’ He sits down beside Alex, dumping the box onto the floor.

And he had, hadn’t he? Seen a ghost. A spiteful ghoul armed with their darkest memories – that sharp-edged knife of their looping past. Alex looks down at his boots but all he can see is that mocking, leering piece of yellow paper.

Michael bends over and snatches up the picture, tearing the sticky note away. He holds both up to Alex. ‘I guess you found my ‘I miss Alex’ mementos.’

Alex snorts. ‘Right. Mementos. Lovingly stashed in your garbage box.’

‘Yes. My sentimental garbage box that I’ve been meaning to toss for over a decade.’ He sighs and places both items back where they belong, kicking the box underneath his tiny table. ‘I can’t believe you saw a picture of us I’d saved for over a decade and a sticky note I’d kept just because it had your handwriting on it and thought I guess Michael doesn’t love me anymore.’

‘Yeah, well, evidence keeps adding up.’ Alex hangs his head and picks at his cuticles.

Michael slips his hand between Alex’s, lacing their fingers together. ‘You’re wrong. And I believe I yelled that in front of half the townies just a few weeks ago.’

‘I’m sorry –‘

‘Don’t apologize –‘

They both fall silent. Looking down at their intertwined fingers. Shoulders slowly sliding together. ‘I just don’t know what we are, Guerin. So, I don’t know how to read anything right. Or even how to talk to you anymore.’

‘We’re a hot fucking mess. Same as always.’ He smiles and pokes Alex lightly with his elbow. ‘But we’re other things, too. A hot fucking mess, a work in progress, and each other’s future.’

Alex inhales sharply, cutting his eyes at Michael. ‘Future?’

Michael nods. ‘Isn’t that why you’re really here?’

And it is. Of course, it is.

They have hours, days, years ahead of them to fill with conversation – real actual communication. And they’ll get there this time. Ready now to lay it all out and love it all back together. But in this first moment, Alex chooses to press his lips to Michael’s, slow and sweet.

A touch, a taste, and then coming home. Those shifting stars and that cosmic imbalance finally tilting true.

#malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #angst to fluff #a soft landing

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kjhmyg · 5 years

Text

rough edges // v-day scenario (m)

pairing: jungkook x reader genre: college au, boyfriend jk warnings: smut, sex, public sex, drinking, unprotected sex word count: 8k (lol)

a/n: honestly just an excuse for me to write some smut. as promised, the valentines’ day scenario that was meant to be posted a month ago but i’m a chronic procrastinator. idk if this is good, i contemplated a lot before posting this. please wear a condom. (a scenario from Rough Edges. but it’s fine to read without the backstory too)

❀

“Oh fuck,” You gasp, holding on to the table in front of you. You hear Jungkook chuckle, then he’s leaning in to kiss your shoulder from behind.

“That’s right baby.” He whispers against your ear. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You chew on your bottom lip, refusing to answer. Sweat drips down your cleavage and you close your eyes, trying to reach the release you’re looking for. Jungkook’s hips move in a slow rhythm against you, grinding into you while his hands cup your breasts over the fabric of your dress. It’s warm and stuffy in here. The absence of air moving in and out of the room makes it harder for you to breathe. It doesn’t help when Jungkook presses his chest against your back and you feel the heat radiating from his body.

Jungkook doesn’t get a reply. He grabs your face and turns your attention to him, “What’s wrong, princess?” You stifle a whine at the pet name. “You’ve been ignoring me all day.”

Again, silence. Instead, you roll your hips back, earning a groan from him. He lets you continue, pulling up your dress and bunching up the fabric above your hips to watch you fuck yourself against him. “Oh⎯” You sigh, bending over to get the right angle. The table acts as a support, holding on tight as you move back and forth, slamming your ass against his hips each time. Jungkook grunts and thrusts forward to meet you halfway.

He takes over when you slow down, ramming into you ruthlessly. “Mmff-uck, don’t stop,” you mutter, bringing your fingers to your clit, rubbing in circles. You feel the buildup reaching its peak and with the way your body tenses up, Jungkook can tell you’re close. He bottoms out with one deep thrust and you snap, mouth parting and body shaking as you reach your climax. He continues his movements in slow strokes as you let your body drop onto the table, riding out the wave, soft mewls escaping you.

Jungkook hovers above you, stroking the side of your face and tucking a curl behind your ear as you catch your breath. He kisses your temple, and you would melt at the tender gesture, if you weren’t mad at him. Once you can muster up the energy to lift yourself up, you place a hand against his abs and push him away till he slips out.

Still hard and covered in traces of you, Jungkook stands in his spot, watching as you step away. Without sparing him a second glane, you start cleaning yourself up. He’s confused, “Wait, what are you doing? Where are you going?”

“I’m late for track and field.” You say curtly.

“But...I’m not done.”

He hurries after you when you get ready to leave, grabbing you by the wrist. You look back at him with a frown, “What?”

“Did you just use me for sex? Cause that’s kinda hot.” You scoff unbelievably, rolling your eyes at him. You glance down, and he thinks you might change your mind and stay, but instead you reach over to grab your underwear scrunched up in his hand before abruptly leaving.

“Wait! What did I do?” Jungkook calls out, pulling his pants back up. He struggles and only manages to stick his head out the door, but you’re already down the hallway and turning into the stairs.

❀

After two whole days of avoiding Jungkook, you’re glad he’s making things easier for you by not chasing after you all around campus today. It seems strange that he isn’t, but you appreciate the peace. It took Jungkook the whole afternoon to figure out why you were so mad at him. He only found out when he got home that same day, when he reached for his phone which he’d left on his table over the weekend while he was at work.

“Crap.” He muttered to himself seeing the missed calls and texts you’d sent him three nights ago. “Valentine’s day!”

Since then, he’d sent you a string of apologies over text when you wouldn’t answer his calls. He waits for you outside your classes when the timing doesn’t clash with his, but you manage to slip away every time, determined to get away. You don’t plan on avoiding him forever. Just maybe until you don’t feel like stabbing him every time you see him.

You’re fishing for your keys outside the apartment when the door opens. “Oh.” Hana stops in her tracks, surprised to see you home so early. “You’re back.”

“Yeah, I skipped some project meetings. Really sleepy.” You smile, giving her a half-hug.

“Okay.” Hana says, nodding. “I’m gonna go...run some errands.”

“Sure.” You reply without thinking much, not realising the smile she’s biting back.

Heading straight for your room, you let your bag fall by the side of your door and shut the door behind you. You’re just about to unzip your jeans and slip into something more comfortable, until your eyes meet another pair of eyes staring at you from your bed.

“What the hell.” You mutter.

Jungkook sits up from where he lies on your bed, crossing his legs and smiling at you. “Hey beautiful.”

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?” You gasp after a sudden realisation. “Hana…”

“I just need to talk to you for like a minute.” He says.

“Okay.” You shrug, looking at your watch. “One minute starts-”

“Babyyy,” he whines, crawling off your bed. You fit nicely between his legs when he pulls you in, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Come on, hear me out.”

You cross your arms and stay quiet, looking at the floor. His hands rest on your hips and he looks up at you with pleading eyes.

“I’m sorry,” He sighs. “I forgot all about the dinner we were supposed to have on Valentine’s Day. I went to work and I left my phone at home by accident so I didn’t see your calls or texts until Monday, after school. You were so angry and I couldn’t figure out why.” He chuckles. “Then I got home and saw all the missed calls and texts and I-”

You’re biting the inside of your cheek and looking at anywhere but him. But he doesn’t miss the tears welling up in your eyes before you can blink them away. “Oh fuck.” Taehyung didn’t prepare him for a crying girlfriend situation when he went to him for advice. “I don’t really know what else to say...I’m just really sorry. Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying!” Your curse inwardly when your voice shakes towards the end and you use the sleeves of your sweater to soak up the tears.

“Baby,” he says gently, cupping your face. “I’m really sorry. I love you so much, you know I wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt you. Please forgive me?”

He pulls you in closer and leans his head against your tummy. You sigh. A part of you wants him to hug you till you feel better but the other half wants to kick him out of the apartment. You had spent weeks planning the perfect date for Valentine’s. Everything was set. All Jungkook had to do was show up. But he didn’t.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he lifts his head up to look at you again. “A teacher walked in on me after you stormed out. And now I have two weeks worth of detention.”

A tiny smile plays on your lips and he giggles, nose scrunching up when he grins. You go weak when he does that. “...is that for me?” you ask quietly, eyeing a bar of chocolate placed next to him. He almost forgets about it until you bring it up. He nods, handing you the bar of Snickers.

“It’s a peace offering,” he says, unwrapping it for you. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Thank you.” You say, nodding.

He smiles wide when you start eating and draws you in closer, leaving no space between your bodies. Pressing against your lower back, a hand positions itself under your thigh and he lifts it over his own leg, doing the same on the other side so that you’re straddling him. Being the whipped girlfriend that you are, you sure have missed him underneath all the anger.

He takes a deep breath against your chest and hums, missing the way you smell. It’s hard to keep a straight face when he does that. "Do you feel better now?"

You shake your head. "My boyfriend stood me up on Valentine's Day. What do you think?"

"Okay fair," he presses his lips together. "At least you're talking to me again."

You shrug, "I might change my mind in a few minutes."

"Don't. I miss you." He says. "I'm sorry…"

"I waited for hours," you say quietly, putting down the chocolate. Then you sigh dramatically, "I even wore matching underwear cause I thought we'd have bomb sex all night."

“Okay but we could still do that though! We’re already in bed.”

“No thanks.”

“Can I make it up to you?” He asks, “How about a date tomorrow afternoon?”

You laugh and roll your eyes at him. He cocks a brow at you questioningly. “Oh, you’re serious?” You ask with a hint of amusement in your tone that offends him for some reason.

“Why not?”

“Well, I mean...” You say, shrugging. He frowns, not liking this confession. “We always go to the same diner. Either that or take out. Then we eat in your car. Not that I’m complaining or anything, I do like those dates with you. But like...my date was way better.”

“I can plan a date! A proper one.” He argues, suddenly feeling challenged. The look of pity you give him makes him even more determined. “Stop giving me that look!”

“What look?”

“That⎯ ugh.” He grunts. He doesn’t understand what just happened. How did he come here to apologise to you, only for him to end up getting mad instead. Are you doing this on purpose to get back at him? Does he really suck at planning dates? He shakes his head. “Tomorrow. You’ll see. I’ll come and pick you up.”

“Okay, fine.” You say.

“Fine!”

You push yourself off him and sit on the bed, enjoying the rest of your chocolate, watching as he storms off. He disappears out your door for a good two seconds before sticking his head back in, “Just to be clear, is that bomb sex still on the table for tonight or…?”

“Get out.”

❀

“Now, before you say I told you so⎯”

“I knew it!” You giggle before he can defend himself and he watches as you let yourself fall into his arms, laughing. “Oh Jungkook. Don’t be so ambitious next time.” You say, patting his chest.

You give him props for dressing up, showing up in a nice button down shirt that fits him just nicely. You have on a cute yellow dress you wore the night of Valentine’s, and just seeing you in that dress makes him wish he could turn back time and make his past self show up at your door that night.

“It’s not my fault,” he reasons. “The places I wanted to take you to don’t take reservations on the day of.”

“Aw, it’s okay.” You reassure him when you enter the car. “We can just go get ramen or something.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No, I kinda figured this would happen.” You laugh and he pouts, starting the engine. “Plus, I still have the upper hand so I’m just gonna enjoy this.”

“Damn...getting stood up changed you.” He says and you snort, playfully hitting him on the arm With one hand on the steering wheel, he reaches for yours with the other. “We’re gonna have a good time, I promise.”

“It’s always a good time when we’re together.” You giggle, squeezing his hand in yours.

“Can you do me a favour?” He lets your hand go and reaches for something in the compartment between you. He hands you what seems like a piece of black cloth at first. When you unravel it, you realise it’s a blindfold. “Can you put that on until we arrive?”

“Aren’t we just getting ramen?”

“Yeah but...just pretend it’s a surprise so I don’t feel bad.”

You do as he says, even if you do find it redundant. The ride there seemed a little longer than usual, but Jungkook claims it’s only because you have your eyes covered and you can’t see where you are. Taking his word for it, you don’t think much about it after that. He helps you out of the car and through the doors of a building. But something doesn’t add up. “Jungkook, why don’t I smell ramen?”

“We’re just making a pit stop.”

“Hm.” You wonder. It’s hard not to be suspicious when you know you’re not where you’re supposed to be. The sound of an elevator door opening has you raising your brows. He guides you inside where you lean against the walls. Circling your arms around his waist, you pull him in closer and look up to where you guess his face would be. “Why do I feel a plot twist coming up?”

He chuckles, trapping you against the wall with his body pressing on yours. “Don’t worry, whatever it is, you’re safe with me.”

You smile, smoothing your hands over his chest. The strained buttons of his shirt are screaming for help. "To be honest, we should just forget about dinner. Seeing you in this outfit is good enough for me.”

"And you tell me this now?"

Leaning in to the side of your face, you can feel from his breath against your skin, how he moves from your ear down to your neck, planting soft kisses there. He chuckles when you gulp, noting the goosebumps that form on your skin and the way your pretty glossy lips parts.

Regretfully, he pulls back at the sound of the elevator reaching. Hugging his arm, you walk alongside him until he comes to a stop and tells you to stay put. His footsteps recede and you wait patiently without any clue of what’s about to happen. It feels slightly cooler than before, and you can hear sounds of the city, which you find odd considering you’re indoors. At least you think you are. Jungkook looks back at you from where he’s standing and smiles, then straightens himself up.

“Y/N.” He calls out. “You can remove the blindfold now.”

“Okay.” You slip it off carefully, taking a peek with one eye first, then the other. “Oh my god Jungkook...”

He definitely did not take you out for ramen. Jungkook stands a few feet away, with a bouquet of roses in hand. Behind him, you see a single table set in the middle of a beautiful rooftop restaurant. Decorated with fairy lights above and with a view of the skyline, overlooking parts of the city, it takes you a while to process it all, wondering if this is even real. “Happy belated Valentine’s Day.” Jungkook says.

He walks over and hands you the flowers, which you accept warmly. “Thank you. They’re lovely.” You say quietly and he grins, taking your hand in his, leading you to the table. It’s the only table, you realise, that is set up while the others remain empty. You take a seat as Jungkook pulls out the chair for you and pushes it back in. Across from you, he takes his place. “Why is it empty? Is it just us?”

“I rented out the place for this afternoon.” He says casually. You wait for him to tell you he’s joking.

“You did what?” You look at him in surprise.

He simply shrugs it off like it’s no big deal. “I have connections. I pulled some strings and called in a favour.”

A waiter comes by just then, stopping you from asking any further. He pours wine into your glasses, then informs you that your meals are being prepared and will be served soon. You haven’t even taken a look at the menu, much less ordered anything, so you figure Jungkook must have sorted that out. He winks at you as he takes a sip of his wine.

To your surprise, he made some pretty good choices. Of course, you can’t go wrong when you get a little of everything. Literally. He couldn’t decide on a main course, so he requested the chef whip up small portions of food from a list he prepared. The table is filled up with plates of food which you shared between the two of you. They served risotto, steak, pasta, black bean noodles, spicy chicken and meatball spaghetti. All of which Jungkook knows you like.

He was especially excited for the spaghetti and he tells you why, “We can do the thing, like in that movie you like.” Jungkook says and you don’t get what he’s talking about, until he places one end of the spaghetti in his mouth and using his fork, holds the other end out for you.

“Are you talking about the Lady and the Tramp?” He shrugs, gesturing for you to join him.

“Oh god…” You mutter to yourself, laughing as you take the other end in your mouth. You meet each other halfway, where the spaghetti cuts off and your lips touch. A tiny moment passes where you simply stare into each other’s eyes, then he swoops in for a second kiss. You sink back into your seat shyly, hoping that the staff hadn’t seen that little exchange.

The colour of the sky slowly changes as you’re enjoying your meal. You don’t even realise how quickly time passes until the fairy lights turn on. Against the backdrop of the skyline, Jungkook looks amazing sitting right in front of you. He feels the same about you, watching you fondly as you talk about why you love looking at the sky and how pretty everything looks from up here. You’re rambling like you always do when you’re excited but he doesn’t mind.

While you’re having ice cream for dessert, Jungkook rests his head against his hand and stares at you with a dreamy look across his face. “Jungkook, stop that…” You say quietly, looking at him from under your lashes. He ignores you because he loves seeing you flustered, so you try to ignore him but he isn’t subtle, even taking out his phone to take a photo of you as you eat.

When you’re done, Jungkook walks with you to the parapet, where you get the nicest view of the city. The sun is setting and the lovely golden hue is starting to fade into cool darkness. You lean against Jungkook’s arm and spend some time taking in the sights. He reaches over your shoulder after a while, so you lean on his chest and he rests his chin on your head.

“I’m sorry for missing our date.” He says after a while. “I know you put in a lot of effort, you cooked the food and everything.”

“I did.” You nod, looking at the roads below. “You know, I don’t really care for Valentine’s Day. But I thought I’d do something nice for the fun of it. So...yeah that really blew up in my face.”

“I'm so sorry.” He says, with a pained expression. “You know I would’ve come to you in a heartbeat if I remembered. Work has just been so hectic lately, I got distracted.”

“It’s okay,” you say with a shake of your head, “ I get it. Work’s important.”

“No, no. Baby listen.” He sighs, turning to face you and holds both your hands in his. “I don’t want you to think that you’re not important to me. You are. You, are the most important thing in my life.”

“I am?” You ask, feeling giddy and he responds with a nod. A smile makes its way onto your face and he places a kiss on the back of your hand. “It’s really alright Jungkook. I understand, you’re only human. I’m sorry too, for saying your dates suck. I actually really like those dates because I get to be with you, which is enough for me.” His heart swells at your words. “And, you really came through today.”

“Anything for you.” He grins with a smug look on his face.

You pull him into a hug, resting the side of your head on his chest while you look at the view. “This is amazing. Thank you for doing this.”

“So,” with a finger to your chin, he lifts your head up to look at him. “I’m forgiven, right?”

You sigh, running your hands down his chest. Then you stand on your toes and kiss him. “Almost.”

“Almost?” He asks as you wrap your arms around his neck.

You nod, smiling against his lips. “We just need to consummate this reconciliation.”

“Right,” he grins, “and just in case I have no idea what that means….”

You giggle and kiss him again. He smiles into the kiss until he feels your hand sliding down his front, down his chest and to his crotch. You smile giddily when he pulls away from the kiss, watching you with curious eyes. This isn’t something you would usually do in public where others can see you. It’s what he would do. But not you.

“What are you doing?” He asks, glancing over at the restaurant staff. They’re busy setting up for the incoming dinner crowd, thankfully, and not paying any attention to you. Jungkook’s eyes widen slightly when you squeeze his member over his pants. You don’t reply, and only bite your bottom lip in response. He narrows his eyes on you. “Are you drunk?”

“Am I gonna get some love from you tonight or what?” You ask, whispering against his lips.

He wants to laugh, but the look you’re giving him tells he shouldn’t be wasting anymore time. Interlacing your fingers together, he walks ahead, grabbing the flowers you left on the table and giving thanks to the staff and tips them on the way out. Reaching the lift landing, you stick to him like glue as you wait for it to arrive. Your lips hover over each other’s, neither making the first move. With a giggle, you break the staring contest first and appreciate the way his shirt hugs his figure nicely, feeling up his abs underneath. He can’t decide if he’s more entertained or turned on by this side of you.

“You’re so sexy,” you mutter to yourself, but loud enough for him to catch. “You should wear shirts more often.”

“Suggestion noted.” He says, nodding.

When the elevator arrives, he pushes you in, presses the button and pins you against the side. A hand moves to cup one side of your face, holding it up so he can kiss you. It’s gentle at first, until you’re biting on his bottom lip and sucking on it. He breathes hard, “Lucky for us, we won’t have to wait till we get home.”

“We don’t? You wanna do it here?” You ask, already unbuttoning the first button on his shirt.

“Don’t tempt me.” He says, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. He moves in on your neck, looking for that sweet spot. His search is cut short when the elevator stops on a level that’s not the lobby. He helps you back on your feet, then leads you down a hallway of apartments. He stops in front of one and keys in a code, gesturing for you to enter as the door clicks open.

"This is yours?" You ask, taking a look around the apartment. "It's nice."

You doubt it’s his. It’s well decorated with expensive looking furniture and decor accessories, but lacks any signs of having lived in.

"Not mine. Just borrowing for tonight." He says, locking up.

"Wait a minute," Your eyes land on the dining table which has a black backpack on it, that looks exactly like yours. You step closer to take a look, "Isn’t this mine?"

"Yup." He smiles, all smug. "Hana helped me pack and bring it over earlier.” You laugh. Of course she did. Inside, you find the clothes she’s packed for you to sleep in as well as something you could wear the next day. She’s amazing. Although, you do need to have a talk with Hana about how she’s supposed to be on your side and not Jungkook’s. She’s somehow developed a soft spot for Jungkook and you’re jealous because she should have a soft spot for you instead.

Jungkook heads for the kitchen and grabs your hand as he goes, finding two glasses and a bottle of wine sitting on the island. He pours some into the glasses and hands you one. You rest with your back against the island top and take a sip, watching Jungkook with alluring eyes.

“Let’s talk about how you walked out on me the other day, hm?” He asks, voice gentle. Moving in closer, his arms rest on both sides of you, trapping you in place.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You smile. “I’m a good girl, you know.”

“Are you?” He licks his lips and your knees go weak.

You dodge when he moves in to kiss you, just to mess with him. His eyes go dark but before he makes another move, you duck under his arm, making a run for it. Halfway across the living area, you stop and turn, waiting for a reaction. There’s a wicked smile on his face; one that shows how serious he is, but he’s willing to play your game. When he starts coming after you, you giggle and run straight for the first room down the hall. But he’s quick and before you can shut the door, he’s squeezing through the gap and blocks you from doing so.

His strength is no match for you, easily pushing the door open so he can enter. You rush to get away before he can get his hands on you; which ironically, is what you really want. Standing by the foot of the bed, you wait, with your hands behind your back and head tilted to the side with a playful smile on your face. He decides to watch you, awaiting your next move.

Perhaps he underestimates what a few glasses of wine does for your confidence, you think. Slowly, your hands start undoing the zipper of your dress. He reacts ever so slightly to your bold move, forgetting how you can see the bobbing of his adam’s apple as he takes a gulp. It’s a painfully long wait, being able to only hear the sound of the zipper as it moves down, until it finally comes to a stop. You slip off a side of the sleeve over your shoulder, and then the other, letting the dress slip to the ground, leaving you in nothing but the necklace he gave you around your neck. “I skipped the matching underwear. Hope you don’t mind.”

His lips are pursed and he nods in approval as he steps closer, eyes roaming your body. Hands finding place on your waist, his thumb presses against your flesh and he watches as it sinks in. As eager as he is, he can’t help but feel something tugging at his heart when he looks at your face. Sure, you’ve had some drinks but behind the lust in your eyes, he sees you, the person who looks at him with the same endearment he looks at you with. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“You look good too, but why do you still have clothes on?” You ask, quickly undoing the rest of his buttons.

“I’m trying to have a romantic moment here.” He shakes his head and laughs. He will never let you live this down. “Who knew you were a horny drunk…”

“I’m not drunk,” you pout. “Just a little tipsy.”

"I like her." He smiles, tracing your lips with his finger. "She's…spunky."

"You like her more than sober me?" You peel off his shirt and he lets it fall to the ground.

"I like all of you. Everything." He touches every part of you within reach as he holds you close, bringing you in for a kiss. You slip your tongue into the kiss and refuse to let him pull away, trapping him in your arms. But he's too strong, easily tearing your arms from around his neck. He climbs into bed with you in his arms and legs wrapped around his middle.

You’re straddling him at first, fighting his tongue for dominance until he finally cups your jaw and pulls you away. He adjusts your position, turning you around in his lap so that your back is pressed to his chest. You let him spread your legs, using his own to keep them apart and his fingers go straight to your cunt. It has you gasping at the touch. No time is wasted as he runs his fingers up and down your folds, taking his time to explore it. It doesn’t come as a surprise to see how wet you already are. He’s barely touched you but you’re slick enough to allow him two slide two fingers in. Your thighs threaten to close at the intrusion but he pushes them apart, sliding his fingers in and out of you easily. “Listen to that,” he says in your ear. The sound of your wetness gets louder as his fingers go faster. “You’re so dirty. Look at how wet you are already.”

You bite back a smile, slightly embarrassed but not sorry. He slips in another finger, making you sigh, yearning for more. His fingers move in a gentle rhythm at first, and you buck your hips forward, trying to get as much inside you as possible. When he removes them, you whine in protest and watch him with pleading eyes. Jungkook smiles, then goes back to running his fingers over your folds, this time giving more attention to your clit. Dropping your head back, leaning on his shoulder, you grab on to his arms, sinking your nails into his skin.

“Look at this mess.” He clicks his tongue, teasing your entrance with the pad of his finger, now dripping in your juice. You breathe hard, and almost cry out in annoyance when he slips only one finger in, up till the first knuckle just to watch you squirm.

“Stop teasing!” You huff, looking up at him. “Fuck me.”

Three fingers slip back into you without warning and you squirm, pushing up against him. “Shh, baby. Be a good girl and I’ll give it to you. Okay?”

You nod obediently, stifling back a whine. Still inside you, he lets you kiss him, “Please.”

How could he say no to those beautiful eyes? He removes his fingers and brings them to his mouth, licking off every last trace of you as you watch him hungrily. The bed dips slightly when he moves to his feet to remove his pants, letting them fall to the floor. His underwear barely does its job of keeping his member in now that he’s hard. Once it’s off, you lick your lips at the sight of him, naked before you.

As he rejoins you back on the bed, he starts pumping himself in fast strokes, maintaining eye contact. Imagining him touching himself to you is what gets you off on your solo nights, and watching him do it right in front of you, makes blood your cunt throb in urgent need.

He reaches for a bottle of lube and condoms he placed on the nightstand and you chuckle. “You really prepared for this huh?”

“Of course I did. Can’t let my baby down again.” You swoon at his words, you always liked it when he referred to you as his baby. Sitting up, you place your lips on his in a gentle kiss which he smiles into. He unwraps the condom, but you snatch it from him and toss it aside. He watches as it flies across the room and falls to the ground, now unusable. “What are you doing?”

You only smile in response, squeezing lube over his cock and spreading it all over. He looks at you questioningly, then smiles wide. “Really?”

He didn’t think it was possible to get any more turned on than he already is, but your consenting nod makes things even more urgent. You lie on your back and stretch your arms out, motioning for him to come into your arms. Hands wrapping around your ankles, he tugs you down the sheets to get you closer before fitting himself between your legs, chest meeting yours and faces just an inch apart. You snake your arms around his shoulders and look at him with a fond smile. “Love you,” you say.

“Love you too,” he whispers against your lips, as he guides his cock to your entrance and slips inside slowly. Your eyes fall shut and moans leave your lips as he fills you up. His arm rests against the side of your face, hand softly running over your hair while he pays attention to your expression at every thrust. It feels like a bigger stretch for some reason and you try to get used to it.

A steady rhythm forms from the movement of his hips against yours. When the stretch becomes a bit more bearable, you open your eyes and meet his beautifully dark and lustful ones. He smiles his signature smile, and you cup one side of his face, fingers smoothing over his cheek.

Jungkook leans in to your touch and kisses the palm of your hand. He brings his head down to your chest and takes your left nipple into his mouth, licking the sensitive bud. You sigh, running your hand through his hair and over the back of his head. He gives attention to your other breast with his hands, tracing circles on your skin, eliciting goosebumps over the area.

You watch him as he changes his position, moving to his knees to hook his arms under your thighs. His thrusts slow down, but he pounds harder, staying inside you for a beat then pulling back to out to slam into you again. Your eyes stick to watching the way his body moves, abs tightening as he thrusts forward. It gets harder to breathe when your breath gets stuck in your throat every time his hips slap against yours. “You okay there?” He snickers, watching your efforts.

“Shut up.” You huff but can’t help a smile. “Try not to kill me, will you?”

“Can’t help it,” he mumbles, pushing down on your thighs, watching the way his cock disappears into your folds. “It feels so good baby.” He breathes.

The way he seems to get lost in the feeling and just watching his hips move fluidly against yours causes a soft whine to escape you. You’ve never went without protection before and it’s definitely doing it for him from the way he can barely keep himself from letting out low moans.

Jungkook pushes against you with your legs resting against his shoulders. The way your body folds allows him to get deeper inside. He grunts with every thrust, leaning his weight against his forearms resting on your side. Thrusts get faster and his breathing gets ragged as he watches your face twist from underneath, the heaving of your chest at every breath and the way your breasts bounce with every thrust. You’re sweaty and whiny, eyes falling shut as you hold on to his arms for support.

He takes in a sharp breath, abruptly shooting back up to his knees and slips out of you, “Oh baby, I’m coming.” The low voice he speaks in has you clenching. He squeezes his cock, letting the cum drip down onto your cunt as he milks every last drop. Eyes still shut, you take this chance to catch your breath and when you open them, you see him breathing heavily as he rubs the tip of his still hard cock against your folds, spreading his seed all over.

“Already?” You giggle, breathless. It’s probably a good thing, you think, knowing how he can maintain his erection even after coming twice on his good days. Good for him, but bad for you. The one time he came three times in one night, you almost fell into a coma after trying to keep up with him.

He chuckles, amused himself. "I got too excited." He lets his cock rub against your clit and supports himself with a hand on the side of your head, allowing his other hand to cup your face when he goes in for a kiss.

You push against his body, motioning for a switch in positions. He rolls onto his back and takes you with him, arm around your waist. Sweet smile on your face, you kiss him as you position your entrance for him to slip his cock inside you again. You moan into the kiss when he does, almost dropping your body on him but he keeps you steady with strong arms on your waist.

“Ah…” You bite your lips as your hips grind against his, trying to find the right angle. Your voice trembles when he guides your hips with his hands, getting you to move faster. They move up your body once you get the hang of it, cupping your breasts and teasing your nipples in circles. Your incessant soft whines continue, and Jungkook can’t help bucking his hips into you. His hips move in a gentle wave, meeting you halfway and you bite your lip as you keep yourself steady, pushing on his chest.

“By the way,” you say between breaths, “I’m thinking of getting a navel piercing.”

“Really?” He traces a line from the middle of your chest to your navel. “That’s hot. Can’t wait.”

You giggle and lean back, placing your hands on his thighs and start moving your hips against him. He lets out a low moan in approval. There’s nothing hotter than watching you ride with your legs spread before him, giving him full access to your clit. In this position, his cock hits just the right spots that has you seeing stars. He starts rubbing the sensitive nub in circles and your breath hitches. His movements get faster and you start whining, feeling the buildup in your core. You push yourself back up when it gets too much, placing a hand on his to stop him. “I’m close,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him deeply.

You reach for his hands, interlacing your fingers together as you continue to ride him. He stays still, watching as you ride to chase your release. Your body tenses up and whines get softer. You start to bounce on his cock, crying out as you slam yourself back down against him. Your movements get faster and sloppier as you reach for the release. Jungkook grabs your hips and starts thrusting up into you. Your eyes fall shut as you feel yourself coming undone. “Fuck I’m coming,” you breathe out as Jungkook continues thrusting into you until your body convulses above him, thighs squeezing against his sides. He slows down then, letting you ride it out.

You drop against him as you come down from your high and he holds your body close against his. It’s warm and you’re spent, thighs aching. He kisses the side of your head and lets you rest against him in that position until you catch your breath.

He then switches your positions again, this time turning you over on your front. He heaves your bottom half up on your knees and you complain, body feeling heavy. You keep your head rested against the sheets as he rubs gentle strokes on your ass, having an oddly calming effect on you. The tip of his cock rubs against your folds and teases your entrance before he slips inside you. He lets out a low moan and spreads your ass cheeks as he watches his cock slide in. “Damn it, Y/N.” He mutters. “Is it me or does it feel like...”

“Tighter? I know, I feel it too.” You mumble against the bed. “Are you taking penis enlargement pills? Be honest.”

He snorts, pulling out slowly then slamming your hips back. You groan. “You really think I need those?”

You moan into the sheets, grabbing them for support. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the pilates classes Hana forces me to go to.”

“Remind me to thank her for that.” Jungkook leans forwards and grabs your hair in his fist, forcing you to support yourself on your arms. He goes slow at first to allow you to get used to it. But as soon as he hears soft whimpers from you, he starts ramming into you mercilessly without warning, earning cries of pleasure. He gets lost in watching the way your ass bounces against him after every thrust and how you moan every time he pulls on your hair a little harder, making you arch your back even more.

“Oh my god, it feels so good.” You groan. He leans over your shoulder and kisses your ear.

“You like that?” He whispers, sending shivers down your neck.

“Yeah.” You say shakily. “Just like that⎯ fuck⎯ oh fuck.”

“You’re so greedy.” He breathes against your neck. “You just came a few minutes ago.”

“So did you,” you huff. “I can’t help it if the dick’s so good.” You turn your head towards him and chuckle, biting his bottom lip. Jungkook’s too far gone to make jokes from the look in his eyes. He tugs harder on your hair and expression turns serious. You stare up at him with your mouth parted, breathing hard. “Fuck me harder.”

“Fuck.” He holds you in his arms and moves back on his knees, so your back rests against his chest. Even though you asked for it, you weren’t ready for the way he hammers into you without missing a beat. Your whines encourage him further, and he wraps an arm over your shoulder to keep you close, so he can watch your face twist in pleasure. His other hand roams your body, giving attention to your chest, then sliding down to your clit, rubbing against it ruthlessly. You can hardly breathe, trying to focus on so many things at once. He moans in your ear, then places kisses against your neck and shoulders. “My baby’s such a good girl.” He whispers.

You whimper, feeling an aching feeling in your chest. With one hand on his ass to support yourself and the other on the side of his face, you turn to him. “Don’t pull out.” you say in a whisper, turning to him. He stares at you with fire in his eyes. Something flashes in them and they seem to get darker with lust. “Cum inside me, Jungkook.”

Your body starts to shake from the oncoming release but you hold it back. Jungkook goes harder, and sounds of skin slapping echoes in the room. His hand sinks into the flesh of your waist and his hot, ragged breathing brushes against your ear. “Baby,” he purrs, nuzzling into your neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

The feeling in your core gets tighter and you feel his grip on your hand getting harder, letting you know he’s close. He grabs your face just then, turning it to face him. Sweat drops down the side of his temple and his hair is a mess. He clenches down on his jaw so hard you see the dimple that forms. “I love you.” He says and you tear up from the physical and emotional stimulation. His thrusts start to get messy.

“I love you too.” You reply, kissing him.

His fingers rub your clit relentlessly and you shut your eyes at the oncoming wave of orgasm. With one final hard thrust, a guttural noise escapes Jungkook and you both come undone, crying out when the buildup inside you snaps. Jungkook breathes deep and hard, moaning against your back as his hips buck into you, releasing his seed inside of you. You feel his warm release as he drops forward, putting his weight on you, and you meet with the sheets again, with Jungkook still riding his release on your back, hips thrusting weakly.

Only the sounds of ragged breathing can be heard throughout the room. Jungkook removes himself from your back, sitting on his knees. He helps you flip over to your back and you do so reluctantly, mustering whatever energy you have left. Noticing how he licks his lips at the sight of the mess between your spread legs, you squeeze your thighs together.

The pillow you reach for gets taken away from you and you pout at Jungkook. He laughs, then scans his eyes over your body, all sweaty and warm and then his eyes land on the necklace around your neck. He traces it lightly and you watch him from where you lay. Hovering above you, he wipes away the strands of hair sticking to your face. “Just curious, why made you change your mind about the condom?”

You shrug, “Well, I’m on the pill. And I know you’re clean.” Feeling embarrassed all of a sudden, you start picking at your nails. “I don’t know, I just wanted to feel closer to you.”

He smiles warmly, leaning down to kiss you. Taking the spot next to you, he pulls you in close, faces are just an inch apart. “How did I get so lucky?” He says, staring you in the eyes. “Not about the condom thing but just with you, in general.”

“I’m the lucky one.” You smile and kiss his forehead, pushing back his hair with your fingers. “I love you so much.”

“Love you more.” He whispers, eyes shutting close at the way you gently stroke his head. “I never want to lose you.”

“Hate to break it to you but, you’re stuck with me forever.”

“I can live with that.” He laughs, and lets out a satisfied hum.

With a sigh, you push yourself off the bed and head for the bathroom, legs feeling like lead. The sticky feeling between your thighs makes it worse. You realise Jungkook trailing after you from the reflection in the mirror and you turn, pressing a hand to his chest, “Where are you going?”

“In there. With you.” He says simply.

“I’m just gonna pee and wash up. Then go to sleep for the next three days.”

He laughs and holds you close, hands on your ass. “The night has just begun, darling”

“Jungkook, when I said you’re stuck with me forever, I didn’t mean it literally.” You look up at him with innocent eyes. “Also, you’ve done more than enough tonight, and haven’t I said you’re already forgiven?”

“Yeah but,” he swoops down and throws you over his shoulder, landing a hard slap on your ass. “I didn’t say I’ve forgiven you for blue-balling me. I’m not done with you just yet, my love.”

#kwritersworldnet #networkbangtan #jungkook scenario #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fics #bts scenario #rainworks #rough edges

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demigodlunar · 3 years

Text

Scars - Chapter 4

-- Trigger Warning: Mentions of self-harm and bad parenting. Read at your own risk.

Chapter 4 - End It Cleanly Mclean

Piper flopped onto her immaculately made bed after her morning run with her mother, rumpling up the covers a little bit and enjoying the brief moments of silence before-

“Models do not flop onto their beds, daughter, they sit on the edge daintily.” A saccharine sweet voice lilted from outside Piper’s bedroom.

Piper stifled her groan and got up quietly, remaking her bed and smoothing her hands over the glossy silk sheets. She made sure not to miss a spot, because her mother, the amazing model Aphrodite Mclean, was no doubt watching her every move from the doorway.

“I’m sorry, mother, “ Piper said quietly, looking down at her feet that her mother commented were “too big” to be from a woman, “I won’t do it again.”

She looked up and locked eyes with her mother, the most beautiful, and cruelest, person Piper had ever met. That one thought of rebelliousness died away, and Piper forcefully looked back down respectfully at her feet.

Aphrodite had silky black hair that made its way down her back in ringlets, with only the most expensive products used on her luscious locks. With chocolate brown eyes like those of a feline. She was thin as a toothpick, with a curvy, full body which attracted a lot of men, and sometimes even women. Aphrodite’s skin was fair and spotless, her nails and clothes always complimenting each other and the rest of her. Piper really wished she hadn’t inherited her mother's insane beauty.

Her mother did another once over of Piper’s bedroom, trying to find something to critique. Not finding any flaws, she pursed her lips, flipped her hair over her shoulder and promptly left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Piper let out a breath she didn’t know she was even holding, and it made her plop back down onto her bed and bury her head in her hands.

Why couldn’t I have just gone with Dad?

~~~~~~~~~~

Tristan Mclean met Aphrodite Ouranos at a theatre gathering. He was immediately struck by her beauty and charm, and she seemed to like him just as much. They started going out after a week, and dated for a couple months before getting married.

After they had Piper, Tristan and Aphrodite made it big, Tristan with a high-paying acting career which required him to move around a lot, and Aphrodite with a modeling job. Both of the jobs needed a lot of traveling, but someone needed to stay and take care of Piper, the beautiful baby who inherited her mother’s beauty and her father’s smile and hair.

So while Tristan went on world tours and visited iconic cities and landmarks, Aphrodite would stay at home and take care of Piper. Needless to say, she hated the job, and wanted to dump her daughter in an orphanage to be taken care of by someone else, but then an idea struck her.

If she could raise Piper to be exactly like her, independent and flawless, it would help Aphrodite’s modeling and parenting. She was wrong of course, but she obviously didn’t think that. The result of her carelessness was a five year old running around a large empty estate, eating whatever she wanted and doing whatever she pleased.

There were many, many times when Piper had been left alone for long periods of time, and she did learn to be independent, but vowed to never become like her mother. Once Piper hit her middle school years, Aphrodite realized just how beautiful her daughter was, even more so, than Aphrodite herself. That was a problem.

So she shipped Piper off to a ladies academy for middle schoolers, and when Piper came back the summer before her first year at high school, she was… exactly the same. No manners had been changed, no clothing choice had been improved, nothing.

That’s when Aphrodite took the manner into her own manicured fingers. She critiqued Piper on anything and everything she did, even if it was the slightest misstep or a small snort that escaped her mouth. At the start, Piper rebelled against her, but Aphrodite oppressed her so much that Piper gave in and listened to her mother's every whim, and stayed quiet through every admonishment.

That was what made Piper start cutting.

It was small at first, just a little glance at a knife or razor and wondering how it would feel against her skin. Then, light traces with the sharp blades on her wrist, seeing how light she could go to draw blood. What pushed past her tipping point was when Piper was idly drawing the knife across her arm, not enough to see blood, but enough to feel a small sting, and her mother walked into the bathroom to see what was taking her so long.

She took one cold look at the blade, and the marks on Piper’s arm and left the bathroom. Piper stared after her, but when she came back, it wasn’t with a hug, or words of help to drag Piper out of the world of a depression.

It was a razor. A pink razor with a bejeweled hilt.

Aphrodite held it out to Piper and said only two words: “Use that.”

Since that day, Piper seemed to enjoy when her mother would leave her alone to do her modeling, because Piper had the day to cut herself happy.

~~~~~~~~~~

Now don’t get her wrong. Piper wasn’t suicidal for two reasons. The first was her father and her friends. She tried to resent her father for leaving her alone with her monster of a mother, but he was too kind for her to hate him, and the couple days a year he came and stayed with them were the best. And her friends, well, they were the only people who kept her sane while she was here. Annabeth, Reyna, Thalia, Leo. They were the best friends anybody could ask for, and they supported her whenever she felt sad. They didn’t know about the cutting.

The second was that she was too cowardly to try to take her life. Afraid of hurting her friends. Afraid that it would all be for nothing.

So she didn’t do anything farther than cutting.

Piper realized that thinking about the past and sitting doing nothing but dawdling was really unproductive. She took out her phone and went to check if there were any new messages, and she saw a text from Thalia. So she replied.

(AN: Thalia, Piper)

Today - 11:34 AM

hey Pipes

hey Thals

wassup

Oh nothing, just trying to get away from my tyrannical mother. Normal day.

nothing much, you?

i’m here with my brother at one of my dad’s interview things

Brother?

Piper couldn’t remember Thalia mentioning anything about siblings before. And she did the normal thing and asked Thalia about it.

you have a brother?

It was a long time before Thalia responded, but when she did, Piper snatched up the phone to see her response.

yeah

Piper felt betrayed, she thought they told each other everything. But then again, she had no room to talk.

excuse me, but how come you’ve never told me about him?

never came up

fine, you win, for now. show me a pic?

Thalia sent a picture of a blond-haired boy with the bluest eyes Piper had ever seen. The thing was, she knew this blond-haired boy.

It was Jason Grace, the only person that even came close to Annabeth’s record setting grades. Once he had beaten her by a percent on a English test, and Annabeth was fuming for days, while Piper and the rest of their friends snickered at her back. But Piper never connected the dots, like how he and Thalia had the same last name.

He was also in her math class during Freshman year, and he sat two seats to her right. Piper could remember clearly some moments of that class.

Like when the teacher would ask the class a question, and Jason’s hand would be the only one up so she called on him. He would bite his lower lip and read out the answer in a confident but quiet voice, like he didn’t want anyone to notice him. Then, once Jason got the question right, his posture would straighten, in a proud way. His eyes would light up like a cloudless day sky and his lips would stretch into a smile, making the scar on his upper lip appear more prominently. Jason would push the glasses up the bridge of his nose, and sit back in his chair, satisfied.

One second. Two.

What. Was. That. Piper shook her head and felt her cheeks become hot. She barely knew Jason, yet she had been paying so much more attention to him than she thought she was. Idly, she wondered if his glasses and the tattoo of glasses she had on her shoulder were related in any way.

Suddenly dizzy, she remembered that Thalia was waiting for an answer. With her thoughts off somewhere else, she mindlessly typed a response to Thalia’s question. The good news, it was the truth. The bad news, Thalia would never let her live this down.

After she felt her head clear, she brought her attention back to the conversation and her eyes widened.

oh, that cute boy you sit with at lunch sometimes? He’s really good looking.

“Crap!” Piper yelled, for once not even afraid that her mother will come in and lecture her about the dangers of swearing.

She could just imagine Thalia cackling her witchy laugh wherever she was. Piper started to type in a message to tell Thalia to please, please not tell her brother about that message when a new message popped up at the top.

Piper, honey, I am leaving for my photoshoot now. Please keep the house clean... and no guests. -Mother >:(

Perfect, her mother is gone, now she can go through with that brunch that she planned with her friends. Then she remembered Thalia. Stupid ADHD, hopping from one topic to the other.

It was too late though, because Thalia has already replied.

yes, he is, and he’s also here looking at our conversation.

Piper felt herself blush scarlet red, and she bet anyone could see it, even on her darker complexion. Now she was in for it, she would never be able to face Thalia or Jason ever again. And once Thalia told the rest of their friends…

Piper stood up and started getting ready for the brunch with her friends she planned. Both mentally and physically. Gods, Leo was going to have such a field day when he found out about this.

Well, the routine was only just starting. ____________________________________________________________

This chapter was fun to write haha

-Blossom ;)

#percy jackon and the olympians #soulmates #percabeth #caleo #solangelo #jiper #frazel #heroes of olympus #pjo fanfic #pjo angst #jason grace #thalia grace #piper mclean

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onyourzeus · 4 years

Text

in ruins | kyh

title: in ruins pairing: kang younghyun (youngk of day6) & you genre: heavy angst, not a happy ending i’m warning you, small caps words: 4.0k

author’s note: i love hurting myself this way.

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

you thought upon knocking on the door, you’d be greeted by the one person you have been looking forward to seeing all week. instead, an unexpecting friend of his unlocks it ajar, eyes peering over to your figure before realizing who you were.

“wonpil, hey,” you greet him amidst the confused expression on his face. it brings him back to his senses, shaking his head slightly before fully letting the door open. he gulps slightly yet you catch it, but don’t question why he looks.. so nervous.

“is this a bad time?” you hesitate, taking one small step forward as you crane your neck to look around the apartment. wonpil immediately shakes his head again, sidestepping and gesturing his hand over. “no, no! please, come in. make yourself at home.”

“okay, thanks…” you trail off, a small smile on your lips but a certain emotion tugging at your heart. with a better sight of the inside, you notice dowoon lying down on the couch with his phone on hand, seemingly focused on a game that requires both of his hands to control. wonpil closes the door behind you, and excuses himself to the kitchen before asking, “did you want anything to drink? water, tea?”

“i’m okay, wonpil. thank you, though,” you tell him, nodding your head to let him be. as he makes his way to get a glass of water for himself, you walk into the place further, taking in the minimal decorations and a few picture frames hanging on the walls. it’s been a while since you’ve set foot in the dorm, and taking in its unique scent and interior gives you some comfort from the anxiety building up from your stomach.

you tell yourself that’s just how wonpil acts around you when younghyun isn’t around: a little shy, polite, and a smidgen bit careful not to say anything weird. you wish, at this point, he can get used to your presence. then again, you only get to see most of them whenever the bassist invites you over.

“hey, dowoon, what’cha playing?” you attempt to start a conversation, standing next to the edge of the couch where dowoon’s head rested. his sight is obstructed by the screen of his phone, so you bend down to check what has gotten most of his attention: genshin impact.

“ah, jae had told me you rolled a keqing yesterday, that’s pretty cool,” you comment, and dowoon jumps from the sound of your voice so close to his ear. you get up, stepping back while apologizing. “sorry, sorry! didn’t mean to be nosy.”

“no, you’re good—” he starts to say, sitting up from his comfortable position while pausing his game, haphazardly placing his phone on the side. a scratch on the back of his neck, he glances over to you. similarly to wonpil, he looks surprised to see you here. “oh! how’s it going?”

“it’s going,” you reply quickly, realizing more and more it doesn’t seem like you were expected to come. weird, you wander in the back of your mind, younghyun usually gives them a heads up when you’re coming over to hang out or just pick him up to leave.

“did younghyun not say anything today?” an air of silence is felt, and now you’re more concerned when turning to look at his bedroom door— he’s not in there.

“he probably forgot,” wonpil chimes in, approaching the living room as he sets down his glass. “hyung has been really busy lately, so it might have slipped his mind.”

“yeah, yeah. it’s no big deal. you’re always welcome here,” dowoon adds, an encouraging smile appearing on his lips. you reciprocate, albeit a little forced, feeling less sure of the fact that the plans you and younghyun had made and promised to pursue are starting to crumble beneath your feet.

sighing deeply, you grip onto your purse and interrogate further: “he’s not in his room, is he?”

the drummer and pianist steal a glance at each other for a split second, but every detail of their silent conversation is not lost on you. that’s a look of panic, worrying what you’d feel if they told the truth, rapidly forming excuses in their heads they can use to white lie their way out of the situation.

“he’s…” wonpil begins, and dowoon’s ears have warmed up to the tense air looming all over you three. a door to the left creaks open, and for a moment you’re relieved. maybe you were overreacting, already affected by the many times something similar has happened to you, but there was no reason not to forgive younghyun.

however, this time, it’s different. if that’s not him coming out of the door right now…

“hey, i’m gonna go on a run—” sungjin informs his roommates, locking the door in his wake. he finally looks towards the three of you in the living room, and given his certain sense of maturity— and analyzing what’s going on by the awkward expressions painted on your faces, he gives you a wave of his hand.

“hi. you’re looking for younghyun?”

“sungjin, i… yeah. where is he?” you let your breaths stabilize, not wanting to break down in the middle of what once was a familiar space, and is now becoming more and more foreign to you. as wonpil and dowoon remain quiet, pretending to busy themselves with his almost empty glass of water and overheating phone respectively, you keep your eyes on sungjin. begging him to tell the truth.

he delivers, but his stare is hard, almost as if he’s hiding something behind the glassiness of his eyes. “he’s been out for the whole day. he said to not wait up on him since he still has another work schedule tonight.”

as you stand there, knuckles turning pale with the way it holds onto your purse for dear life, you scoff sarcastically. leaving sungjin’s gaze, the anxiety had reached the base of your throat, restricting words of profanities to come out of you like a broken dam.

“you can wait for him in his room. did you text him?” sungjin continues to console you, walking closer but allowing personal space between you. “i can call him while i run, he’s going to get annoyed eventually and pick up.”

“yeah, i’ll do the same as hyung. we’ll blow up his phone so he can come back home,” dowoon joins with a perk to his voice, seemingly anticipating their master plan to succeed. wonpil nods along, but doesn’t meet your gaze, only swirling the remaining liquid in his glass.

“you don’t have to do that,” you let them know as much as your voice can muster before breaking. “i’ll take you up on your offer of waiting for him, if you don’t mind. i’ll call him myself.”

sungjin brings his fingers in between the bridge of his nose, contemplating on accepting the compromise. to hurry things up, you bring a hand to his shoulder and squeeze it gently. he seems to understand as he nods firmly, patting your hand before you let it go.

“okay. let me know if he doesn’t come back in an hour, yeah?”

“yes, sir.”

“do you want some snacks? leftovers? are you hungry?” wonpil goes off with his questions, and it’s an endearing sight to watch him treat you so politely in his humble abode. honestly, at this point you’d rather leave and forget this day even existed— but you needed answers, and you know you’re not getting it from them.

you don’t want to, anyway, because they shouldn’t be involved in this. they don’t need to be. this is between you and younghyun, and if you were to wait for him again, for the longest time— and maybe the last time, then so be it.

you’re not going to leave until you get what you wanted.

“don’t worry about me, wonpil. i’m sorry for intruding on your night,” you apologize, bowing down before him as you make your way to younghyun’s bedroom. thankfully, he left it unlocked, and you swung the door open and close in an instant. with your back on the door, your labored breathing comes back— it took a lot from you to stay calm, collected, and unbothered by what’s going on. you didn’t want to make it a big deal, they’ve seen this before, and it usually gets resolved.

like you said, forgiveness was not an uncommon concept with you and younghyun. you believe it’s essential with how… complicated your relationship is with each other. you’ve fucked up a couple of times, said things that weren’t within your best intentions to, and younghyun didn’t hold grudges because of them.

he would be upset, justifiably so, but after a day or two, you were both back to normal. he reassures you there wasn’t any bad blood, and he understand the frustration himself.

from then on, you tried— really hard not to fuck things up anymore because it’s scary. it’s terrifying to think about the consequences of unwanted words, uncalled for actions with a person whose schedule is jam packed everyday, and his thoughts never ending.

younghyun is always on the run, whether that be hopping from studio to studio or collecting ideas for a new song and another.

it’s not like you aren’t busy yourself, but the degree to which he pushes himself further into his career is miles ahead from yours. and it’s not your place to complain about, it’s your choice to be supportive, though. which you promised. from day one, and he kissed you like it was the one answer he needed to hear.

you miss it. you miss him, his lips, his touch; everything that screamed younghyun, it’s right here. in his room. the only thing missing is the person himself, him.

you walk over to his bed, kept clean and sheets folded. always organized, rarely leaving miscellaneous crap in random places. sometimes it’s intimidating, to visualize the kind of person who inhabits this room, but knowing who he is, you feel safer than insecure here.

walking over to his desk, a black notebook sits atop with a pen to the side. ah, you notice the cap is missing, and you look for the miniscule thing all over the place. you find it on top of his dresser, and quickly put it back in its place.

you guess, there are some things that younghyun forgets, that he misses, but never the big picture.

you’re tempted to turn the pages over, but respect his privacy nonetheless. it might be lyrics he’s not ready to show anyone yet, and you of all people know what it’s like to write something new, a genre you haven’t dipped your pen in yet. it’s quite the daunting experience to bring it into the world, for other inquisitive eyes to read.

most of the time, younghyun’s words are never amiss. in fact, they always fall in the category of perfect, for you. you don’t like to admit that because he will never believe you, so it’s best to keep it a secret for yourself.

you enjoy his new releases better that way, making you feel more special in a sense that you’ve heard his melodies first. you’ve heard the stories behind these metaphors face to face.

you wish you could see him face to face right now.

before you forget, you pull out your phone and pull up younghyun’s messages with you. your text was sent three hours ago, and it was read which made you think okay, he’s seen it and acknowledged the fact that you’re coming over, maybe he’ll reply once he gets a break soon.

he never did.

you scroll up to the previous messages, a lot of back and forth short phrased responses that don’t mean as much as the way you guys would constantly bombard each other with long conversations.

have you eaten? yeah, a lot. you? yup, out with a friend rn. ight, stay safe. u too.

r u asleep? no, in the studio. oh, it’s super late. yeah, working on stuff. alright, text me when u’re home? i’ll try.

he never did.

feeling a tear fall down to your cheek, you wipe it away roughly and begin to type another text.

i’m at the dorm. the boys didn’t know i’d be here. do you remember our promise? please respond.

your hand hovers on the send button for longer than you thought, and you bite your lip in anticipation for a decision so foggy in your brain. should you? should you be this upfront and accusatory? it’s not that bad, right, because he did promise. and now you’re here, the only one taking care of that promise— what’s his excuse?

i’m at the dorm. the boys didn’t know i’d be here. are you coming back soon? is what you sent instead, feeling the lump on your throat getting bigger and your eyes welling up hot, salty tears. you try to compose yourself. sitting on the edge of his bed, hands going over his white sheets as a way to ground yourself.

you can’t cry, the walls are too thin and dowoon or wonpil will know. and wonpil will be too polite to leave you alone, and dowoon wouldn’t know how to confront the situation and just run to his room leaving wonpil by himself.

it felt like forever that you wake up uncomfortable lying down on younghyun’s bed. you blink a few times before sitting up straight, your side hurting from the way you fell asleep on the mattress. you straighten out the right half of your hair that had been messed up having plopped down on the pillow, and look for your phone in your purse.

it has been an hour since you got here, and no new notifications on your phone.

you have had a fair share of getting stood up on blind dates before meeting younghyun, and at one point you stopped caring. boys don’t deserve your tears, you’ve never even met them and if they thought you were fooled by their persona online, then they were dead wrong.

but this is younghyun, the guy who proved himself different. the guy who came to your first date spot prim and proper, an hour earlier than the designated time. to think you were actually going to cancel this one because it was too tiring, too predictable at this point.

but seeing his selfie that day, a table already reserved for the two of you and you haven’t even gotten ready yet, you felt guilty for assuming so wrongly of him.

two years later, you’re thinking you should have listened to your gut all this time.

as you are about to leave and practice what you have to say to the boys in the living room, the door opens and in comes a disheveled looking younghyun. his coat hangs on his arm, his hair a little haggard but his smile soon disappears upon seeing you invading his space.

“oh, you’re here.”

oh? you’re here?

you stand up from the bed, eyes directly staring at him just five feet away from you even though he feels like a galaxy away with that kind of answer.

“did you look at the texts i sent you?” you deadpan, trying your hardest not to seem fragile.

younghyun shakes his head, plops the coat on his dresser and shrugs. “i’ve been busy, did you need something?”

“you don’t remember?”

he stands rigidly, his own fox like eyes avoiding your burning stare. they focus on the wall, with his lips in a tight line.

he looks different to you.

there’s something about the younghyun in front of you that makes you question your presence in his room. and how unwanted he’s making you feel.

“younghyun, what’s going on?”

“what do you mean by that?”

“don’t play dumb with me. you promised, hell, we promised we would see each other tonight,” you remind him, your voice rising a pitch higher and it strains your throat. you drop your purse on his bed, and cross your arms defensively.

anything to make you feel safer in the cold that has entered the room once he got in.

“something came up, i’m sorry. you know how work has been,” younghyun explains nonchalantly, still refusing to see you. refusing to tell you the truth with his eyes.

it’s not enough anymore.

“you could have texted? you could have let wonpil or dowoon or even sungjin tell me that , you’re busy, you can’t even do that?”

“i don’t want to bother them.”

“well, younghyun, guess what? you’re bothering me!” your sudden outburst causes him to turn towards you, eyes wide and brows furrowed.

they definitely heard that, and they’re definitely listening from the outside. but any worries about your image towards his friends had gone out the window by now, only to be left with an ounce of desperation for an explanation. an answer. an apology, even.

he doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and you’re scared to break off the eye contact at this point. you’re determined to tell him you’re not really mad, just frustrated. you’re not holding a grudge, you just want to hear it from him that he didn’t mean to do this to you. that he didn’t mean to hurt you this way.

your vision gets blurry, but you force the tears to pool over your eyes and not fall down. not right now, not when his gaze is steel and intimidating.

“i’m leaving, stay as much as you’d like but i’m not going to be back until midnight,” he dismisses you, grabbing his coat to bring it with him.

a scorn burns on your mouth, words tasting like lead when you say: “leave, that’s all you know how to do.”

this stops him from his tracks. a pin can drop in the middle of the room, and you still can’t hear it. your thoughts are screaming, a headache forming on your temples not understanding how it’s come to this so suddenly.

you didn’t mean that, but now your tears are saying sorry for you. you sob standing up, arms on either side and hands shaking from the pent up frustration popping out of your veins.

you’re tired, so tired of being the one to adjust. of being the one to stay when he leaves, and foolishly wait for him to come back. only that he doesn’t, and this time he probably never will anymore.

“pull yourself together,” younghyun tells you, tone hinting pity which aggravates you further. he doesn’t look as mad anymore, but his shoulders are tense and his eyes fierce. “we can talk later. i have dinner with heejin and i still need to record kiss the radio later—”

“dinner? with who?” you snap, tears momentarily stopping with the mention of a name you’re unfamiliar of. “when did you schedule this? could it not have waited after tonight when i have been asking you for some time together for this very day?”

younghyun rakes his fingers through already unkempt hair forcefully, distaste in his mouth as he shoots back at you, “i told you i’ve been busy, heejin and i have a song together and it’s supposed to come out in two days so we’re meeting up as much as we can—”

“yeah, okay. over dinner, at a fancy restaurant away from a recording studio, am i right?”

“you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“younghyun, it’s my fucking birthday,” you talk over him, your voice speaking over the loud beating of your heart. sweat drips down your temple, the headache hammering itself on your skull as the tears escape down the surface of warm cheeks. suddenly, you hear yourself laughing. monotonous, without emotion, as you see younghyun’s scowl snap into a look of confusion, then of realization.

“i know what the fuck i’m talking about, brian. and from the looks of it, you don’t. you never did.”

“you should have told me—”

“and i need to remind you of that? after knowing each other for years?” you snap back. the walls vibrate with the volume of your cries, and you hear a knock on the door and a person asking if everything is alright.

younghyun looks back, but doesn’t respond and turns to you with pained eyes, a fine line between guilt and feeling bitter. he knows he should have remembered. besides, your first date with him was on your birthday too.

“enjoy your fucking evening, brian. i’ll see myself out,” you mutter under hot breath, breathing hard and eyes red. grabbing your purse, you walk past the man you thought you knew. and now he just feels cold.

it stings when he grabs you, and he loosens his grip when you exclaim loudly. “brian, stop.”

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry i fucked up.”

“it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“yes, yes it does,” he pleads, pulling you closer to his body. you shiver, not liking the way he presses into you with a desperate attempt to forgive him. maybe if it wasn’t today, you’d drown yourself in his needy touches, inhale the scent you miss having all over your skin, kiss younghyun on the lips and understand he’s human too.

not anymore, not when all the chances you have given him were taken for granted, and there’s nothing left inside of you to give him another one. you’re all out, exhausted from the waiting, the forgiving, the crying. exhausted from it all.

“younghyun, let me go. please. i’m tired.”

he hesitates, but once you pull yourself off him he releases his stone cold grip. your eyes hover downward, face sticky from the tears you have shed.

no more.

coming out of his room, wonpil and dowoon are nowhere to be found anymore. it was only sungjin, sitting by the island counter, scrolling on his phone absent-mindedly. he notices your presence, looks up and offers you that warm smile of his even if his eyes sympathize with your heartbroken gaze.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispers.

you close your eyes, shake your head and offer a grateful smile. for him. “not your fault. i’m sorry you had to hear that. please let the others know i’m deeply sorry.”

“text me when you get home, okay?” sungjin hops off the barstool and places his hand on your shoulder this time, transferring the kind of warmth you have been needing all day, all week.

you know he’s just being kind, roped into the tail end of your disastrous break up with younghyun so you nod once. he doesn’t take it and adds, “i’m serious. if i don’t hear from you, i will text you. multiple times. you’ve seen me do it.”

with no escape from his compromise, you emit a small laugh and firmly nod this time. “okay, sungjin. thank you.”

“happy birthday, by the way,” he consoles you, and you do your best to keep another wave of pain locked up. you thank him, accepting the side hug he offers you, and make your way out the door.

as the breeze outside doesn’t do well in vanishing the evident sadness on your expression. you walk the streets of the city holding in a breath, careful not to attract too much attention to your lonely self.

you get home barely alive, shoes left on the doorstep and your clothes slithered off on the hallway. you text sungjin what he wanted to hear, and once you’ve landed on your bed, you let it all out again.

birthdays were never really a favorite “holiday” of yours before you met younghyun on this very same day two years ago.

it was as if being alive on this earth for another year was a favor given to you by fate, having to know younghyun even more as the days go by past it. as much as he created meaning to your birthday for the past two years, this time, younghyun had destroyed everything you built together.

the pieces are too small, much too fragile to make your heart whole again.

#young k imagines #young k scenarios #day6 imagines #day6 scenarios #young k x reader #brian kang imagines #brian kang scenarios #day6 au #by:jiae

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years

Text

Final Bets

Summary: Alejandro enacts his daring plan to get You and your daughter free and clear. But will things end the way he thought they would, when he foist came when you called?

Warnings: Some violence, cursing, and the attendant and You are both female.

Final one. THANK YOU for reading this. And special thanks to @hnt-escape for being amazing, talented, and putting up with me. (Also for creating the collages.). Her awesome poem is here:

This time, he knew who was on the other side of the door when someone knocked on it. He opened it up, resolved, serious, a little nervousness building, coiling inside his stomach.

The front desk clerk. Looking equally resolved. He nods, tosses the key on the bed, and shuts the door.

“You remember what I told you?” He pulls over in an alley, dropping her off in a blind spot so there’s no record of them together. Casablanca rises like a debauched king over them, not too far a walk. He hands her an envelope. She nods, shoves it away. He takes her chin gently. “If it looks dangerous, if there’s even the tiniest bit of danger…run. Nothing’s worth your life.”

She nods again, smiles. “You can depend on me.”

“Take your cut before her daughter gets there, leave the bag, and split.”

“You don’t trust her?”

“I didn’t raise her.” He says, looking at the rearview mirror, watching now, always. “I could have been…not biologically, I was out of the picture, then. But if she needed help, I would have come. I always made sure she had a way to reach me.” He shrugged. “So, her kid doesn’t know me…why would she trust me? And that means I…we…can’t trust her.”

“But you trust me?”

He smiles at her, and nods. A bit like he’s surprised to admit it.

“Alright.” She gets out of the car and he reverses down the alley, finds a cruddy lot where the cameras are probably broken and parks. Pays the guy at the kiosk cash. Reviews what your daughter told him about security protocols. Hope you were right, that the whole staff had grown soft, because people were too afraid to try and steal from the Casablanca so the guards were really more show than tell.

Every step, he has two things going on in his mind. Mentally he’s estimating where the attendant is, sees her enter the casino just ahead of him, so he slows down, resets the timer in his head. The other thing, of course, is looking for you.

He told her daughter, on the phone earlier, not to let you know. So when you look at him, at first just a security guard in a trim suit looking for danger, then realization as to who he is warms your eyes and there’s a softness to your face for a moment before the mask slips back into place.

He’s wearing a white shirt and black pants, and the red jacket again. He know he smells of chlorine and bad decisions.

But still, he makes his way over. Watches a craps game but does not wager. Cashes the 5,000 chip out. Thinks. She left the gift shop by now. She must be at the elevator. Now she’s on the third floor. Now it’s the restroom. Let’s give it a moment, in case someone is in that stall…

He buys one 100.00 chip. The teller didn’t want to give him something so low, but he just stood there and smiled, with his biggest, sharpest smile, tacky sunglasses hiding his eyes, changing the shape of his face.

He plays the roulette, the ultimate wheel of fortune. Wins, which is annoying because he knows he doesn’t have time to cash it in, so he dumps in on the tray of a nearby waitress and finishes his approach.

“I’m sorry.” He says, when he gets close enough.

You frown. “For what?”

He sticks his hands in his pockets. Casablanca was one of the casinos that still armed their guards. The gun was casino property, logged in and out.

“Everything. I wish. I should have gone with you. I should never even have left you for any reason at all.”

You’re scanning the room, trying to stay composed, but he can see it, a flicker here and there of emotion.

In his head, the elevator dinged. She’d be leaving, making her way to the doors. The loot in a brand new bag.

“I could stand here all day and apologize. But it won’t matter.”

“Why not?” Did he hear a little desperation, a little longing? Or was he hoping to hear it?

“Because of this.” He grabbed her wrist, slung her roughly around, his right hand yanking her gun out of its holster. Left arm around her, pressing her to him, right hand shooting in what he hoped was a civilian safe direction before pressing it to her temple.

“I am so sorry sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear.

“What do you want?” you scream. “Let me go!”

He doesn’t want the guards to think heist. He doesn’t want them to think money, or danger to the casino. He wants the other guards to think there is just one problem, and it is right here. He wants confusion.

“We’re going outside and you can tell the moon and the stars to stop talking to me!” He screams. “I am so fucking sick of them talking to me!”

He starts pulling you back, ranting and raving, into the men’s room. No cameras, and one of those that was positioned with two sets of doors.

“Run on through, and start screaming.” He says, shedding his skin, shoving the red jacket into a bin. “Your daughter will text you the meeting place.”

The guard ran in only a second later. They look at the messy haired man, hands up, thick rimmed glasses, blue tee shirt.

“He took her that way…through the other door.” His voice is completely different, thick Spanish accent, soft and timid and very afraid and completely non threatening.

The guard kept going. Alejandro adjusts his glasses, takes one more look at himself in the mirror, and leaves the restroom, flowing through the crowds. Worried over you. Hoping you were shedding your skin, too, coming out the other side safe.

There you were. Hair down. Suit coat off. You were wearing a white shell, arms bare. You winked at him, and then the crowd took you away, just as they started, finally, locking down the casino. He made it out, barely, and kept walking.

He pulled out of the parking lot, and she was there. The attendant. He stopped, smiling up at her, and she took something out of her bag. A smaller purse. Tiger stripped gold leather. She hands it to him. “To go with your shirt.” He opens it. 500,00 dollars, probably, give or take.

“Is this?”

“Your share. I don’t trust her either.”

He tucks it under the seat, behind his legs. “You know,” he says, contemplatively. “If we go left, we could go off, become private eyes. I think you could probably buy your way in to a very new practice.”

She leans on the door. “And right?”

He grins up at her. “How do you feel about moral ambiguity?

“I don’t know.” She’s smiling a little now.

“Or…I could drop you off at the bus station. Then you’d really be free.”

She came around to the passenger side and got in. He started driving away, not wanting to draw any more attention by stalling.

“No to the bus station,” she says after a bit. “Can I think about the other two?”

“Absolutely. You have time…I need to drive us somewhere first. Make sure of something.” He clears his throat. “If you don’t mind?”

She shakes her head. “Does it have to do with the note you asked me to give her daughter?’

“Yeah. Go ahead and sleep.” He says. “It’s a long drive.”

He’s sitting on the edge of the pool, tee shirt and shorts, clean shaven. He looks like no one he’s ever been before. His legs are in the water, and rose petals swirl around. The one place you’d be able to find easily. If you wanted to.

“How long should I wait?” He asks her. She’s lounging on a lounge chair, reading a book on basic private investigation. She hasn’t told him, right or left, yet. He doesn’t mind waiting. He can live a long time on half a million dollars.

“How long did you give her?”

“Twenty four hours.”

“Give her at least 48. Maybe even 72. She might have gotten caught up.”

He shakes his head. “She got clear. Her kid texted me.”

“Alright. If we don’t hear anything, we’ll check out the day after tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” He captures some of the rose petals in his hand.

“Will you…will you be miserable, if she doesn’t come?”

He grins over his shoulder at her. “No. I won’t be miserable at all.”

She returns his smile, holds up the book. “Left, then.”

Thanks to @sharkbait77 and everyone who commented and showed support.

#instyle #Hope #Pedro Pascal #My Fic

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rose-demica · 4 years

Note

So this started out brief, then it just grew... also I know he says ‘well, I’ve heard that one before’ but this felt like it fit better with the story.

Past Dean x Reader,

Warnings: Pregnant!Reader (I wanted to keep this as a surprise, but then I realised trigger warnings are important). One night stand. Long Drabble, more of a one-shot.

Finding a case had been a godsend, you’d been bored out of your mind in the bunker since Sam and Dean had left on their own case. They’d ordered you to stay home, and stay out of trouble. In theory, an easy task, in reality, not so much. The longer their case ran, the more it felt like you were suffering from Cabin fever. The bunker always felt so much emptier, so much less like home when the boys were gone and Baby wasn’t taking pride of place in the garage. You had no social interaction apart from an occasional phone call from one of the boys, checking in to make sure everything was okay. Even Castiel and Crowley hadn’t popped by, too busy with their own things to stop by and keep you company.

So, you’d done what hunters did best, you’d gone searching for a case, finding one a few states over. It was an easy one, it had to be an easy one, you weren’t ready for anything harder than a salt and burn. You weren’t sure how you were going to manage digging up the grave, but you were sure that you could come up with something.

You picked a ghost, one that had been haunting the family house, scaring off anyone who brought it and tried to live in it after the last of her descendants moved out of it. The ghost hadn’t taken a life, not until last week, when the newest owners, firm disbelievers in the supernatural had pushed the ghost too far. Kept refusing to leave despite the ghost’s best attempts to scare them off. It had taken the life of a child, seemingly by mistake, another attempt to scare them off gone horribly wrong.

You knew it wouldn’t be satisfied now it had a taste of death, they never were. They always got angrier, stronger, the longer they were left, stuck as ghosts, unable to move on, and unwilling to stop.

It was a quick job, minus the fact that the ghost had already been cremated, forcing you to find the object holding her to the world.

Thankfully, the formerly firm disbelievers were happy to help you, pointing you to objects that had remained in the house before they brought it. They were willing to do anything to protect both their remaining child, and the unborn one, still protected in its mother's womb. The father even helped you to burn each and every single one of the objects while his wife and child played games in a ring of salt. He had tried to convince you to stay with them, safe in the circle, but you were the expert here, you needed to be out there, getting rid of the ghost.

It had seemed cathartic for the father, armed with an iron poker, he’d swung with a scream of rage each time the ghost appeared, destroying her time and time again, right up until you burnt the correct item, and the ghost went up in flames.

It had been worth it, hugging the family as they cried, mourning the child they’d lost, as well as the relief that it was all over. Sam and Dean didn’t like staying for this part, ducking out as soon as they could, you didn’t mind, comforting them, before leaving them with your number, and a promise to call you if they ever encountered anything like that again.

Your hand was on your own stomach as you drove home, unable to imagine the grief they would have felt at losing their child. The guilt they would feel for the rest of their lives, the realisation that the child would have lived if they’d not been so stubborn, and had listened to the signs.

Despite trying to convince them otherwise, you knew there would always be a part of them that believed it was their own fault.

The boys beat you home, you noticed, pulling into the garage to see Baby back where she belonged, freshly cleaned by the look of her. Your eyes dropped to your phone, normally they sent you a message when they were returning, but you had nothing from either of them.

Guilt settled in your stomach, they were going to be furious with you, not just because you’d left the bunker, but that you’d also taken a case without telling them. Last time you’d taken a case without telling them- they’d worried endlessly that something could happen to you, a monster could take you down, you could be kidnapped, and no one would know where to even begin looking for you. Granted it would be worse this time, you’d left them a note, hidden within a book they would probably never open, but you had tried. That would be your excuse at least.

You knew it was bad when Sam met you at the garage steps, wrapping you up tightly in a hug, a hand pressed to you belly and a sigh of relief passing his lips. He didn’t let you go, silently escorting you to the war room, where Dean was pacing back and forth.

He wasn’t as impressed, nor relieved to see you. His hands went into his pockets, as he shrugged, perching on the edge of the study desk. Sam directed you to a chair, waiting until you were seated to move around the room, stopping at the side and looking nervously between you and Dean.

“What’s your excuse this time?” He was beyond pissed at you, not even reaching out in greeting, no hug before he scolded you. No murmurs of thanks that you were alright. Perhaps he put his hands in his pockets so he could deny the urge to reach for you, you didn’t know, the Winchesters were hard to read.

“I was bored, so I went to help a nearby family. I left a note.” You went to stand up, and go to get it, prove that there was, in fact, a note there for him to find.

“Y/N.” Dean growled, stepping closer, and you stopped, sitting back down just as quickly. “You are 5 months pregnant, with my child, I would think you’d want to keep yourself here and safe.” He wasn’t yelling, that would be worse, instead he was speaking calmly, his barely contained rage simmering across the surface of his words.

“I was safe Dean, I wasn’t about to put my child in harm's way.” How dare he suggest you would risk the health and safety of your own flesh and blood! A child you’d been growing for five months now.

“You went on a hunt!” Dean lost his hold on his rage, stepping closer to you, a finger poking into your chest to accentuate his point. The chair fell back behind you as you stood, unwilling to let the elder winchester tower over you.

“Then you shouldn’t have knocked up your one night stand, insist on keeping both her and the baby, then locking her in some creepy underground bunker with no friends, no company, and nothing to keep her entertained!” You yelled back, poking him back. You took a deep breath, calming yourself down.

“It’s been weeks since you left. I’ve been alone and bored out of my brain. So yeah, god forbid I have anything to do. I made sure it was an easy job. Now if you’ll excuse me, I want a shower and to sleep in my own bed. Come find me when you get your fat head out of your arse.” You took a step, and Dean’s hand shot out, wrapping around your arm.

“Dean, let her go.” Sam stepped up, freeing you from his hold, You offered him a small smile of thanks, before heading to your room, and taking a shower. You weren’t kidding when you stated what you wanted, the smell of smoke and ash clung to you, and if you had to smell if for another second you were going to be sick. Maybe by the time you got out Dean would be ready to apologise, maybe he wouldn’t, either way was fine by you.

~~~~~♥~~~~~♡~~~~~♥~~~~~

Dean was on your bed when you got out of the shower and made it back to your room. Thankfully he’d taken off his shoes this time, his feet on the bed, back against the headboard while he flicked through the pages of some book that had caught his fancy.

“Any calmer?” You watched as his jaw clenched, running a towel through your wet hair. “Or not.” You turned your back on him, putting your dirty clothes in the hamper, and hanging your second towel on a hook behind the door.

“I was worried sick Y/N.” Dean came up behind you, his arms wrapping around you, lips pressed to the back of your neck. “You weren’t here, you haven’t answered any of our calls or texts for days. We rushed to finish the case, then I drove straight back here, no pauses, no breaks and-” Dean took a deep breath, pulling you closer to him. “Sammy offered to drive but there wasn’t time, I had to get back, I had to make sure you were safe.” His hand spread out across your growing stomach, “That you were both safe.”

“I haven’t got any calls or texts.” You leant back into Dean with a frown, using one hand to scoop up your phone to show him.

“It said your number was no longer in service.” Dean kept one hand on your belly, taking your phone off you to check for himself.

“Oh Shoot! It’s because Thomas’ plan would have run out. I need to organise my own.” You didn’t need to see Dean's face to know he was confused. “When Thomas and I broke up, he agreed to keep paying off my phone until it was done, then it was up to me. I paid him a lump sum, it must have just run out, because i was getting your messages a few days ago.”

“I’ll tell Sammy to put you on ours.” Dean pressed another kiss to the back of your head. “I know we agreed to just be friends, but crap Y/N, coming home to see you and our baby gone, it terrified me, I’d gotten so used to the idea of building a life with you that-” You felt water hit the back of your neck, Dean’s hold around you tightening as a sob escaped his throat. “Please.”

You forced Dean to loosen his hold, just enough so you could turn and wrap your arms around him, a hand in his hair as he sobbed.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, offering him what comfort you could. He clutched you tighter, taking a big, shuddering, breath in.

“I don’t think I can let you out of my sight.” Dean leant back, swiping at his eyes to remove the liquid that was attempting to escape.

“One night mister, I’ll give you one night.” A chuckle left Dean’s lips as he picked you up and spun you around onto the bed. You quickly kicked off the sheets, knowing if he got settled you would have no chance of getting the blankets out from under him.

“That's what you said last time.” He teased, clambering in beside you and wrapping you up in a tight hug, snuggling up as close to you as he could, cradling you close.

“Goodnight Dean.” You recognised the way he was curled into you, he was getting ready to fall asleep.

“Thank you for coming home.” He whispered back, you took a moment to get more comfortable, before letting your eyes fall closed.

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dreary-doll-writing · 4 years

Text

Spying Turned Accidental Double Date (1/2)

Fandom: Yu Gi Oh ZeXaL

Pairings: Yuma/Trey, Kite/Quattro

Rating: G

Word Count: 2,454

"You want me to What?" Kite asks Kari over the phone.

"Yuma is going on a date with an older boy, and he seems nice enough but I'm worried. I have to work late, can you please just keep an eye on them for a little bit, please? I'll pay you."

Kite lets out a long sigh, "I guess, but don't expect much, “older” boys aren't all as awful as you seem to think."

"Thanks, Kite, don't let the little punk get into trouble!"

"Have you met your brother?" Is how Kite planned to respond but she hung up on him before he could.

~~~

"Yuma Tsukamo? Really?" Quinton can't believe what he's hearing.

"Yeah! It was so sweet, too, he gave me a flower and asked me to go out with him with a red face and a stammer," Trey gushes.

"You're...sure you want to go? I can't help but worry this is some sort of prank..."

Trey pouts, crossing his arms, "A boy likes me and it "has to be a prank"? Really?"

"Don't put words in my mouth, I'm just keeping an eye out for you because that boy seems like he has ulterior motives," Quinton argues.

"I'm older than him, and I can take care of myself, especially over Yuma."

Quinton lets out a long, defeated sigh, "Be safe, and smart."

Trey let his angry façade fall, smiling at his oldest brother, "I knew you'd come around."

He heads to his room to get ready and Quattro starts laughing, "You're going to spy on them."

"It's not spying, it's keeping my youngest brother out of harm's way," Quinton doesn't bother trying to cover up his plan.

Kite quietly followed Yuma to some cheap restaurant at the edge of town and was surprised to see none other than Trey Arclight waiting for him, waving at him once the younger boy entered the restaurant.

Kite tried not to be spotted by ducking into the nearest booth that could see the two boys as soon as he entered the restaurant himself.

He was surprised to find another patron there already, sitting with their head ducked, but he was even more surprised when he noticed who it was.

"Why are you following Trey on his date?" Kite asks in disbelief.

"He's my little brother, why in the world are you following Yuma?" Quinton whispers the question with a raised brow.

"His sister wanted me to keep an eye on him."

"I have things under control here, you go home," Quinton offers.

"If his sister finds out I left she'll find and kill me, you go home."

"I trust Yuma a lot, and you, but not with my littlest brother's heart."

"I guess we're both staying then."

"I...guess so."

"Oh, hi you two, didn't see you come in! Here," a waitress sets two menus in front of them, "Lots of lovebirds in today."

"We're not-" they both begin to say, but she's already off to take Yuma and Trey's orders.

"Maybe you should...go to the other side of the booth, Kite, I'll watch them, you see if you can listen in."

Kite cautiously moves to the other side of the booth so he's back to back with them, and can just barely hear the boys giggling to each other quietly.

"And that's why Caswell can't wear tank tops," Yuma seems to finish a story that must have been funny from the way Trey is still giggling.

"You have so many fun stories," Trey muses.

"What are they saying?" Quinton asks.

Kite leans in closer to the table so the couple doesn't end up hearing him, Quinton following suit to hear better, "They're just talking about Yuma's friends."

"That's innocent en-"

"Oop!" The waitress shows back up, seemingly out of nowhere, "Sorry you two! Didn't mean to interrupt but I was hoping you two had a drink order ready?"

"Uhm, I'm no-"

"Two coffees, please?" Quinton smiles politely at her, "Sugar and cream on the side."

"You're darling, ordering for your boyfriend, I'll have it right out, hun."

"I don't want-"

"It's rude to not order, Kite, not to mention suspicious, just let it go, I'll pay."

Kite shakes his head and leans back to eavesdrop on the other conversation again, and is just met with more giggling.

~~~

Trey noticed Quinton following him immediately and wanted to get mad at him for it, but when he texted Yuma about it, Yuma revealed that Kite also seemed to be following him, probably for his sister.

Yuma had a better idea than yelling at their spies, so they decided that, instead of a quiet date at the water tower like they planned, they met up at a cheaper restaurant.

"Are they watching us?" Trey asks when Yuma sits down.

"Mmhmm, they're sitting in a booth together now," Yuma nods.

"Do you think they're in on this together?" Trey asks.

"No way, Quinton looks too surprised to see Kite."

"How close are they?"

"They're right behind you."

"They're not even trying to be subtle," Trey laughs.

"I think they're bickering."

"Maybe one of them will leave, it'll be easier to lose one than both," Trey hums.

"You really th-" Yuma cuts himself off with a laugh, "I don't know what the waitress said but they're both red as tomatoes."

"She probably asked if they were dating or something," Trey giggles.

The waitress comes to their table with her notepad ready, "You two know you have stalkers right? I can have them kicked out if you need."

"That's my brother and his friend, they're over protective, but we're safe," Trey assures, "Thank you."

"Well, can I get you boys something to drink while they breathe down your necks?"

"Lemonade?"

"Two."

"On it, and it's on the house since you two are already having a hard time."

"Kite moved while she was taking our order, act like I said something funny," Yuma informs very quietly.

Trey starts giggling, which is easy since they're already messing with the two adults.

"And that's why Caswell can't wear tank tops," Yuma pulls some sort of ending out of nowhere, which only makes Trey giggle more.

"You have so many fun stories," Trey goes with the flow of whatever Yuma's plan is.

The waitress walks by again, setting their drinks down as she walks by, before going back to their shadows' table.

Yuma starts laughing after a little bit of awkward silence, "I think she embarrassed Quinton, he's red again."

Trey starts laughing again, imagining what she must've said to get a reaction like that out of his brother.

"Hey, I have a plan, I'm sorry in advance, but go with it," Yuma whispers.

"Wha-"

"Oh No!"

Yuma very intentionally knocks his drink over, onto Trey.

"Yuma! You're so clumsy!" Trey whines, trying to keep the rising giggles out of his voice.

"I'm sorry, come on, I'll help you clean up," Yuma offers him a hand before leading him to the bathroom.

~~~

Kite hears Yuma cry out in shock, and Quinton jumps, but sits back down.

"Yuma! You're so clumsy!" Trey whines, and Kite peaks to see the teen standing practically next to him, coat dripping with what Kite guesses is Yuma's drink.

"I'm sorry, come on, I'll help you clean up."

Kite watches the two go to the bathroom, both him and Quinton hide their faces in their menus as the teen duo walks by.

"That seemed pretty deliberate," Quinton scowls.

"Knowing Yuma, it wasn't, he's just that dumb and clumsy."

"And now those two are alone in the bathroom," Quinton adds.

"Yuma's too...Yuma to have any sort of plan like that to get Trey alone."

Quinton lets out a small laugh, "I'll give you that. If he wanted Trey alone for a reason like that he'd probably just say something dumb that makes what he wants too obviously."

Kite laughs too, nodding, "But then again, would Trey even get it if he did that?"

Quinton goes to argue but just shakes his head, "No, probably not, for such a smart boy he's so innocent."

"Pretty much the exact opposite of that other brother of yours."

"Yeah," Quinton nods.

"Crap, they're coming back," Kite spots the teens out of the corner of his eye, leaving the bathroom.

They both hide their faces in their menus again.

"Is...Trey wearing Yuma's vest?" Quinton asks, watching the two sit back down.

"Looked like it..."

"...Maybe Yuma is slicker than we gave him credit for?"

~~~

"Was that necessary?" Trey pouts, taking off his outer shirt, only to find the lemonade had soaked through to his base shirt.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make that big of a mess, but I wanted to say, without them hearing, maybe we should go to a movie or something after lunch?" Yuya slips off his vest and offers it to Trey.

Trey smiles softly, taking off his shirt and putting on the vest instead.

"Because you want to go to a movie with me or because you want to mess with them more?" Trey asks, struggling with the buckles on the vest. It was definitely not meant to be worn like this.

Yuma takes over for him, buckling it as tight as it goes, "Both?"

"I'll go, but only after my shirt dries off...this is too short for me..."

Yuma beams, and offers Trey his elbow as politely as he can muster and leads his date out of the bathroom, both of them suppressing more laughter as they see Kite and Quinton hiding their faces in their menus.

The waitress gets to their table right as they get back, raising a questioning brow at Trey's change in clothes, but not saying anything about it, "You two decide on what to eat? Or were you a little...preoccupied?"

Trey's face turns bright red when he realizes what this probably looks like.

"I'm ready, you?" Yuma seems unaffected.

Trey swallows thickly before nodding.

#echo writes #yu gi oh #yu gi oh ZeXaL #aztecshipping #dilateshipping #yuma tsukumo #trey arclight #kite tenjo #quinton arclight #michael arclight #chris arclight #iii arclight #kaito tenjo #v Arclight #part 1 of 2 #kari tsukumo #quattro arclight #thomas arclight #akari tsukumo

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janicho88 · 4 years

Text

Don’t Listen

GIF originally posted by rainbow-motors

Pairing-Dean x Reader

Word count-2820

Summary-The reader keeps making mistakes, and the voices in her head tell her it is only a matter of time before Dean is done with her. Why else would he be distant lately?

Warnings- Angst, smut, unprotected sex, some fluff, language, low view of self

You finished thirty minutes on the treadmill feeling like you should have done more, but there were other things you needed to accomplish today. Thinking back to this morning in bed, while you had initiated it Dean didn’t stop you. Did you really think Dean was one to turn down sex though? Maybe he had tried to hurry it more than usual though.

It used to be he would go down on you and work you through an orgasm or two before slowly working his way up your body worshiping it with his hands and mouth as he went. By the time he reached your lips you would be begging for him to enter you. Slow and deep both of you falling over the edge together. Dean would hold you in his arms while you both recovered.

This morning though his fingers seemed to quickly work you open so he could enter. Then it was hard and fast. His fingers moving down to work your clit to get you off quicker. When Dean finished, he rolled over and left the bed leaving you behind. The last week or two things had started change between you two, Dean seemed to be spending less time around you. Looking down at yourself you decided to hit the treadmill again tonight to make up for not doing more now. Passing a mirror, glancing at her reflection, thinking she should try and fix up her look.

Grabbing the list for the store you were out the door and into town. Going through the bakery section to grab pie, the only available kind left is peach, really? Never had you seen Dean eat peach or a peach come to think of it. If you had gotten here earlier there would have been a better variety, you scolded yourself. Grabbing the other items on the list also picking up the ingredients to try and make a cherry pie, you finished at the store and headed back to the bunker.

Sam was cleaning when you carried your first load of groceries through the door.

“Sam I was going to do that after I got back from the store. Give me a few minutes and I’ll do it, don’t worry.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. I wanted to pick things up before I looked for another case.”

Great now you were putting Sam behind in helping people, because you couldn’t keep the bunker clean. You didn’t really hunt yet. You were training and could help with research. Many times, being left behind incase they needed you to look something up in book at the bunker. Dean said he didn’t want you hunting, because he didn’t want to lose you. Honestly, you think he doesn’t want you screwing up and getting one of them hurt. Being the one who spent the most time at the bunker, you felt you should be responsible for keeping it clean.

After putting the groceries away, you looked up the pie recipe and got that ready and in the oven. While it was cooking, you deciding that while Sam was cleaning, you could at least do some laundry. The impala wasn’t in the garage when you returned so you weren’t sure where Dean was. Most likely avoiding you, it seemed like you hadn’t seen much of him the last two weeks.

After putting the second load of laundry in the washer you headed back to the kitchen to check on the pie. Almost to the kitchen you started to smell smoke and ran the rest of the way. Sam running in right after you seeing the smoke coming out of the oven. The cherries were bubbling over the black crust hitting the bottom of the oven. You grabbed it out of the oven and set on the stove top, but Sam grabbed the oven mitts from you and took it outside to help get rid of the burning smell.

The timer still had half an hour the pie shouldn’t have been black yet, then you saw the oven temperature. it was supposed to be 375 degrees, the knob read 480. How had you screwed up that bad, you had never done that before? You knew with the old oven you had to be careful and not wiggle the knob after you set the temperature. Sam left the bunker door open to try and air it out then went to retrieve the fan from his room. The fan in the kitchen already running.

“What the hell happened in here?”

Great Dean was back.

“I tried to bake something and had a problem with the oven.”

“Oh. Stick to cooking, Sweetheart. You haven’t burned the bunker down with that.” Tuning he saw the peach pie on the counter. “Awesome, Pie! Thanks for grabbing one at.” He didn’t read the label before cutting himself a slice and taking a bite. “That’s not apple, looked like apple.” He mumbled with his mouth still full.

“No, all they had was peach.”

“Oh, okay.” You had never seen Dean spit pie out before today.

Gif originally posted by complisults-and-explanabrags

“Has anyone seen my new white fed shirt?” Sam yelled from his room. Neither you or Dean had.

You left the kitchen and went to take the laundry out. Since it was mostly jeans, and a few black shirts you had thrown in your new red sweater too. You would not have to worry about red running on those clothes. As you pulled the items out, there was a pink collared shirt you did not recall throwing in. Oh no! It must not have been taken out from the load of whites before. Crap!

“Is that..?” Sam asked, suddenly standing behind you.

“Maybe?” You squeaked as you handed it over to him.

“Dammit.”

“Sam, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know it was in there.” He huffed and walked off.

Dean had appeared behind Sam while the exchange was going on. “Y/N, why don’t you get out of here for a while, go for a walk, or a drive, even head to the mall, get out for a few hours.”

“Dean, there’s things to do here, I need to clean the kitchen now.”

“No, I think it would be better if you left for a while.”

“I agree!” Sam yelled from his room

“Okay” you didn’t have it in you to fight with him. Apparently, they both wanted you out of the bunker. How long till they wanted you gone permanently? Today showed them you couldn’t do anything right and were a hassle they didn’t need. You went to the mall to pick Sam up a new shirt, hopefully you could at least do that right. Leaving there you drove to a quiet secluded spot near a lake Dean had taken you to before. Leaving the car, you walked over to a stump the two of you had sat on numerous times overlooking the water. Thinking about your life with the boys, and your relationship with Dean. Was this going to be the end of it? Did they really want someone like you around who couldn’t do anything right when they were faced with such dangerous jobs? What were you going to do when you were forced to leave them.

A few hours later Dean sent a text asking if you were coming home anytime soon, he was starting dinner. Great he couldn’t even be bothered to talk to you now, he was probably mad because it was supposed to be your night to cook. Sending a reply, you headed back to the bunker. Maybe you should just start packing your stuff, you didn’t think it would be much longer till Dean was done with you. After today, you didn’t see Sam wanting you to hang around either. Parking in the garage you headed inside. Strange, the bunker was dark. Had the guys finished dinner already and gone to their rooms? It wasn’t late, but maybe they just didn’t want to see you anymore today. Maybe you should sleep in your old room tonight and give Dean some space.

You were just going to head to bed when a noise in the library caught your attention. Quietly stepping into the War room slowly making your way up the steps to the library when the lights came on.

“Surprise!!” You jumped almost falling back down the steps. Looking around you saw the Donna, Jody and the girls, Cas, Garth with his family, Charlie, along with Dean and Sam in his new pink shirt. The room was decorated with balloons and streamers. Dean walked up to give you a hug and kiss.

“Happy early birthday Sweetheart!” He exclaimed, and in a whisper said “I bought you a new outfit, it’s in our room if you want to change.” You had completely forgotten your birthday was next week.

After saying hello, getting hugs from everyone there and apologizing again to Sam about the shirt you slipped out to your and Dean’s room to change. You couldn’t believe it the outfit Dean bought you was a dress you had been admiring a few weeks ago.

Not being able to come up with anywhere to wear it, you decided it was impractical and didn’t waste money buying it. Dean must have seen you looking at it and went back to get it, you were shocked he would do that for you. Looking at the dress and thinking about the party left you standing there in disbelief. You must have been in there longer than you thought because Dean came looking for you.

“Hey, are you ready to head back out to your party?” Seeing you hadn’t changed yet he knew something was wrong. “Y/N? Are you with me?”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” You had been too caught up in all your thoughts from the day to realize Dean was talking to you.

“What’s wrong Sweetheart?

“Nothing”

“I asked if you were ready to head back to your party? Were you surprised?”

“Oh yes, really surprised me.”

“Good, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, fine.”

“Okay, I believed that, something is going on in that pretty mind of yours. Want to share with the class?”

“Not really.”

“Try again, please.”

“Dean, it’s nothing.”

“Is your head telling stories again?”

You didn’t answer, just staring at the wall in front of you.

“That’s a yes, please don’t listen to them. What is tonight’s?”

“I feel like you’re getting tired of me and I’m no longer good enough for you. You see these girls in the bars when your out on cases in those tight little shirts and barely there shorts. That’s who you used to leave with and know you have just me at home. I know they all look better than me. These last few weeks, I just got the feeling you were avoiding me. I swear when we had sex this morning you couldn’t wait to get away from me, then you guys couldn’t wait to get me out of here. I am constantly screwing things up, like today I couldn’t do anything right, burnt one pie, you hated the other, and ruined Sam’s shirt. I can’t believe you bought this dress I don’t deserve…”

“Okay, just stop please, take a breath. One, you aren’t just you, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t care what clothes you wear. I rather like it when I find you in my flannel and those yoga pants, you have no idea what that does to me. As for that dress I knew you fell in love with it at the store but would never buy it for yourself. I wanted to treat you, yes, you deserve it. B, let’s go to the obvious next. I thought you would have figured this one out yourself. Sam and I needed you to leave so we could clean and get your party around, fool. We couldn’t exactly set up your surprise party around you, and have it then be a surprise, could we? I was so worried I was going to spill about the party, or your dress I have been trying to be careful around you. This morning I was so afraid we had come this far, and I would slip up and say something. I really wanted to do something nice for you, for everything you do for all me and Sammy. I’m sorry it upset you. Baby girl I love you, and if one of us doesn’t deserve the other it’s me. I will show you later, just how much you mean to me. As for earlier, we all have bad days, don’t worry about it.”

He wiped your tears that were falling away and leaned into to kiss you. Pulling away he asked, “Do you want to go back to your party?”

“Yes, just give me a few minutes to change, wash my face and fix my makeup.”

“You know you don’t need makeup right? You are beautiful without it.”

“Says you, I will meet you out there in a few minutes.”

Heading back down the hallway you passed the kitchen and couldn’t detect the smoke or burnt pie smell from earlier. They guys must have gotten it out. You joined everyone in the library, they had brought out food while you were gone to change. Dean had made your favorite pasta, along with garlic bread, salad, and fruit. Sam must have done the last two. The library tables where all pushed together, and everyone had gathered around an empty seat for you between Dean and Jody. It was nice to have everyone together talking and laughing, no one stressing over a case.

After dinner was cleaned up, Sam and Dean disappeared. The lights dimmed and everyone started singing Happy Birthday while Dean carried in your favorite cake with the candles burning, setting it in front of you. When the song ended you blew out your candles, wishing to never lose these amazing people.

Returning to your shared room after the party you walked over to the bed and were removing you shoes as Dean walked in.

“Did you have a nice time Sweetheart? Did those voices calm down?”

“Yes, I had an amazing night. Thank you for doing all of this.”

“You deserve the world Sweetheart, and I am going to give you all of it I can.”

Having removed his shirt and tie, Dean was walking over to stand in front of you. Slowly lifting your chin with one hand he leaned down to softly kiss you, while his other hand moved to the zipper at the back of the dress. That hand came back to push the one sleeve down so you could step out of the dress. This left you standing in your panties, lips never leaving each other. He turned to walk you toward the bed, when the back of your knees hit Dean gently pushed you down. After removing his pants, he followed you to the bed quickly hovering over you.

When your lips met this time, it was a little rougher, his mouth traveling over your jaw and down your neck. He slowly worked his way down your body to the place you were craving him most. After removing your panties, his moved his tongue through your folds finding your clit and sucking it in his mouth. One finger entered you, soon followed by a second working you open. You felt the pressure building, and it didn’t take long till you were coming over his fingers and face. Dean looked up with a smirk and worked his way back up your body. Lips met again tongues battling for dominance, you have no idea when Dean removed his boxers, but next thing you knew he was sliding into you. Both of you moaning as he filled you up. After a minute your legs moved up to Dean’s side, hips pushing against his urging him to move. His thrusts started out slow and you could feel every inch of him sliding in and out of you. When you needed more you urged him to speed up, and his thrusts became fast and hard until both of you were reaching your peak. Dean wanting you to come before him, reached down between the two of you, gently rubbing your clit. Your head went back as you came screaming Dean’s name. Dean was right behind you filling you up with a grunt.

GIF originally posted by saucynewf

You both laid there a moment, when he couldn’t hold himself from crushing you anymore, he rolled you over so you were laying on his chest. “I love you Sweetheart; I don’t want you to ever doubt that, don’t listen to those voices that are dragging you down.”

“I love you, Dean. I will do my best, sometimes I can’t help these thoughts.”

“I know you can’t, I guess I will just have to remind you over and over again for the rest of our lives.”

#Supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester

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writingsbychlo · 5 years

Text

guilty pleasures | thomas

word count; 7902

summary; thomas is still reeling over his break up, before meeting newt’s new roommate, and his perspective changes entirely.

notes; ha, enjoy. very little plot here. pretty much just an emotional mess for Tommy. bit of an AU because, y’know, why not?

warnings; smut.

He couldn’t help the frown on his features. It had been permanently embedded there for two weeks now. His eyes were still slightly sore from the times he had spent rubbing at them aimlessly as he cried, but today, the frown was more out of anger and confusion.

Anger, irrationally, at Newt for not being at his house when Thomas needed him to be. he knew it was stupid of him to be angry at his friend. He was probably running errands or helping his sister move out and in with her girlfriend, as he had been doing for the past few days, but Thomas hadn’t exactly been in a rational place since Teresa had left him. He was confused because the girl had broken up with him out of nowhere, a three-year relationship thrown away because she had decided she just wasn’t feeling a spark anymore, and she was tired of trying.

She’d packed up all her belongings before Thomas had even gotten home that day, leaving his apartment bare of half the things that were usually in it, and making him feel more alone than ever. She hadn’t spoken to him since that day, and while they hadn’t argued or screamed at each other, a fairly placid break-up, to be fair, she had quickly cut herself off from his life.

Now, however, she was texting him, and telling him she wanted to look through some of the things they had bought together and see if any of them mattered to her. She could have them, for all Thomas cared. He didn’t want to look at them, he didn’t want them anywhere near him. He hated most of the crap that had been boxed up anyway, he’d only bought it to make Teresa happy, but the only problem was, he didn’t have it anymore.

After the breakup, Newt had arrived with a cardboard box and gone through his apartment with a ‘fine-tooth comb’, removing any and everything that might remind him of the girl who had walked out on him. The box was sat at Newt’s house, behind the locked door, and Thomas needed it back, while the anger inside him still gave him the confidence to actually go to her place and face her.

With a sigh, he decided fuck it, he would just let himself in, grab the box real quick, and be on his way. Using his foot to push over the ridiculously ugly gnome that sat by the front door, a small silver key was revealed to him, and he swiped it from its position on the stone quickly. Pushing the metal into the lock, he twisted, the door clicking open for him and he replaced the key under the ceramic figure, standing it back up before entering the house.

Pushing the door shut softly behind himself, he was barely three feet into the home before hushed tinkering in the kitchen sounded out, and his eyebrows furrowed. Newt clearly wasn’t home, his car was gone, and Sonya had been moving in with her girlfriend, most likely was Newt wasn’t here in the first place, and so Thomas had expected it to be empty.

Stepping closer to the source of the sound, he peeked into the kitchen, surprised at your figure occupying the space. His eyebrows remained furrowed as he took you in, hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, missed chunks falling around your face and tucked behind your ears. A massively oversized shirt hung from your shoulders, practically falling over the edge of one of them as it almost swamped the shorts you wore underneath it.

Turning to face him, his cheeks reddened as your scream snapped him from his curious staring, his gaze leaving your legs to fly back up to meet your eyes. Your hand was clutched to your chest, dry sticks of pasta from the now half-filled bag of spaghetti in your hands were rolling across the floor from where you had jumped in shock, and the frown that had momentarily disappeared from his lips while looking at you was back, guilt crawling in his stomach.

“Jesus, you scared the life out of me.” You mumbled, placing your spaghetti packet down on the side and using your foot to nudge some of the dropped and useless pieces into a pile on the floor. “Thomas, right?”

“Uh.. yeah?”

“Newt has been telling all about you guys. It wasn’t hard to put it together. Plus, there are pictures of you guys everywhere.” He continued to stare at you sceptically, licking his lips as he took a few steps closer to you. “I’m (Y/N), Newt’s new roommate. Well, housemate.” Leaning over the counter in the middle of the kitchen, you offered your hand to him, and he took it, shaking it gently.

“I’m Thomas, but you already knew that.” Finally, a smile cracked through on his features, only a small one, and it didn’t reach his eyes, which were still full of sadness, but it was something. Placing the spaghetti you still had into the pot of boiling water you had prepared, he watched you silently as you busied yourself around the kitchen. It wasn’t until you’d cleaned up the spilt pasta and disposed of it, while he stood in the same spot without speaking, that you faced him again.

“So, what exactly are you here for? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh! Of course, my bad. Um.. well- my, um.. my ex. There’s a box of things that Newt took from my apartment when she left me, but she keeps texting me, and she wants them.” He ran a hand through his hair, hands coming up to rub at his eyes as he sighed angrily. “Like, I don’t want them! I only bought them to make her happy, but why didn’t she just take them when she left if she wants them that bad? Is she trying to torture me?”

Pulling open the door of the fridge, you plucked two glass bottles from inside, popping the caps off of both of them and placing one down on the counter before the man. Glancing at the beer you had placed out, he let his lips tug up in the smallest of smiles at the notion, taking the cold glass between his fingers and raising it to his lips as he sat down.

The silence hung between you both again, and you stirred at the softening pasta gently, before turning your back to him and leaning against the counter beside you. Glancing up from his perch at the island in the centre of the room, his eyes scanned over you once again, shamelessly, before coming up to meet your eyes.

“You can talk to me if you want. It sorta’ seems like you need to talk it out, for your own sake, to understand it all, and I’m here to listen. If you want me to.” You shrugged off the way his eyebrows rose at the offer, instead choosing to busy yourself with your cooking once again. The second his mouth opened, he couldn’t stop the words that were flowing out. He spoke about her before they were dating when they first met in high school. He told you the story of their relationship, all the times they broke up and got back together a day later, and the way they fought, and all the happy moments that fixed them.

By the time you were placing a plate of pasta out in front of him, his cheeks were wet, eyes red, and he was all talked out. Taking a seat across from him, you merely nodded at his mumbled thank you, as he picked up the fork quickly and began to tuck into the food, clearly hungry. “You want my honest opinion, Thomas?” He looked up at you, nodding and taking a sip of his beer as he did. Twirling your pasta around your work, the metal scraped lightly against the ceramic, before the tips of his fingers brushed the back of your hand gently, stilling your movements entirely.

“I can take it, tell me what you think about it all.”

“I.. I think it was doomed from the beginning. You never had time for one another, and ask yourself honestly, did you ever really connect on anything? Or, perhaps you were just trying to make something work, that only started out based on idle fascination in college.” Your words hung heavily in the air, and he swallowed his food thickly, the only sounds filling the room for a few minutes is that of cutlery scraping against plates, and the occasional clink of beer bottled meeting the marble counter as you took a sip of your drinks. “I’m sorry, I-”

“No, don’t be. It was harsh, but it was the truth, and I think I needed it. You were right, and I think I always knew we wouldn’t make it, but it still hurts, you know?”

You did know, you’d had your fair share of bad breakups, unrequited feelings, the whole bunch. He finished his meal, clearing both of your plates away quietly into the dishwasher once you had finished, helping himself to another beer from the fridge as you moved about the kitchen together in easy harmony.

“You know what always makes me feel better?” You eventually filled the quiet, and his eyes found yours curiously, brows raised. “Getting super drunk and playing video games.” As you said that, his face cracked out in a wide grin, eyes lighting up at the thought.

“Now that’s an idea I can get behind.”

With a cheeky grin, you cheered happily, leaning up to the top cabinet and pulling the bottle of amber liquid from the top shelf, shaking the half-full bottle side to side. He held his hand up in the air, palm open to you and you swung your hand up to meet his in a high-five. The sounds echoed around the room loudly as you giggled, skipping through to the living room and dropping yourself down onto the couch.

Unscrewing the cap of the drink, the spicy smell filled the air, and you watched as he darted around the TV in front of you, switching on the console and grabbing two controllers before taking a seat beside you. Holding the bottle out to him, you shook it slightly.

“The broken-hearted can have the first drink.” With a lopsided grin, he took the bottle from you, raising it to his lips. Latching your fingers underneath, you tipped the bottle upwards, a chuckle leaving his lips as a drip of the liquid ran along his chin.

“You’re trying to get me drunk.” He teased, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand and you shrugged, setting up the first game that the two of you would be playing. The rim of the bottle pressed against your lips, and you chuckled, turning to look at him as you parted your lips, letting him tip the bottle back as the spirit burned at your throat. “I refuse to be the only drunk one. You’ll have an edge on me at Mario Kart.”

He winked at you as you shook your head, eyes squeezed shut as your throat burned from the drink. “I’m going to have an edge on you anyway, I’m amazing at this game.” You teased, and he gasped falsely, clutching his chest as he considered your words. Tucking your legs underneath yourself, you ignored the way his gaze flickered from your eyes to the way the large top you wore covered the shorts that had ridden up your thighs, your legs almost entirely exposed to him.

“I’m taking that as a challenge. Loser of each game has to drink.” He offered, and placed the bottle between the two of you on the coffee table sat before you. Holding out his hand, all fingers other than the pink were closed, that lone finger pointing out in your direction.

Locking your own pinkie with his, you shook tightly, a cheeky grin on your lips as you loaded up the first game. “Deal.”

You had lost count of how many games you had each won and lost. The tequila had run out a long time ago, and glass bottles were scattered around the living room. His head was across your lap, your fingers weaved into his hair as you laughed loudly, pure joy filling the room as he recounted many stories that only seemed to get more and more entertaining. His shoulders were light, the weight lifted from them finally as he relaxed into your grip even more.

Your head was tipped back, and you were wheezing, trying to pull breath into your lungs as you could not stop yourself from laughing, his chuckles ringing loudly in your ears as he continued to tell you the story that had you cracking up. He paused, sitting up to simply watch you in all your joy and your hand fell from his hair, a pout forming on his lips.

His fingers wrapped around your hand, your eyes opening to look at him as he pressed a kiss to your open palm, before weaving your fingers back into his hair. You swallowed thickly, your cheeks aching from all the grinning but the tension between the two of you was thicker now.

Your eyes were locked together, the faint music of a Wii console playing in the background and his fingertips dragged along your skin slowly, your hand tightening in his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp.

He was shuffling closer to you, with every movement, his eyes never leaving yours but you could watch them darken the closer he got. One of his hands was now cupping your cheek, the other squeezing at the bare skin of your thigh roughly, fingers pressing into the skin in a grip that sent shivers along your spine.

Your breaths were mixing now, and when he let his tongue poke out to wet at his lips, the tip licked along your bottom one slowly. Millimetres apart, you could practically taste him already, and your blood was pounding, heart thumping against your ribs. You wanted to close the gap, it was a bad idea, but you were the queen of bad ideas, you were drunk, and it would be such a deliciously guilty pleasure to indulge in.

Before you could allow yourself to make the decision, the house phone hung up on the wall blared loudly through the room, jumping in place, you scrambled to get up, the air around you feeling cold as the close proximity you had held was ripped away by your fleeing. As it reached its fourth ring, you picked it up, shaky hands bring the device to your ear as you cleared your throat.

The voice on the other end began to speak immediately, and you listened carefully to what they were saying, bracing yourself on the wall as you swayed slightly, your mind still fuzzy from all the alcohol you had consumed. Placing the phone back on the wall, you turned to face Thomas, who had stood up from the couch, his eyes fixed on you as he took slow steps in your direction.

“Who was it?”

“It was Newt. He isn’t coming back tonight, he had a few drinks at Sonya and Harriet’s, and he shouldn’t drive. He said he’ll be back tomorrow.” Your words were basically whispered, but he heard them perfectly as he closed in on you. His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb running over your lips as the other found your hip. Backing you up, your back met the wall, the breath leaving your lungs in a shocked huff, his nose nudging against yours.

“So, you’re saying we’re going to be alone all night?” His face morphed into a sly grin as he backed away, enough to look you in the eyes, and you took your lip between your teeth, his gaze immediately honing in on the action.

“Thomas.. we shouldn’t. You only just got out of a relationship.”

“Three weeks ago.” He murmured, voice low and his body came to rest up against yours, bodies pressed flat together and a low moan slipped from your lips as that comforting heat found your body again, and he let out a deep chuckle at the sound.

“You’ll feel differently in the morning. You’ll regret it. I’m not taking the blame because you needed a rebound fuck, you can’t put that guilt on me.” You whispered, and he nodded slowly, his head dipping down as his lips brushed against yours, barely giving you enough to get even a hint of a taste, and you so craved to know how his mouth tasted.

“I don’t care how I’ll feel tomorrow. I just care how I feel now. And now-” His hand slid down from your hip, gripping at your knee as he pulled one of your legs up to hook around his waist, somehow pulling the two of you closer. “I just want to fuck you until you can’t walk. God, I want to know how you would feel wrapped around my cock, I want to know what my name would sound like when you scream it, I want to know how it would feel as shake and twitch under my fingers. I want to know how it feels when you fall apart under my touch.”

“Screw it.” You closed the gap, a low moan rumbling from his mouth and into yours as your hands came up to wrap around his shoulders, lifting yourself up to kiss him properly. His lips were wet and soft, moving against yours quickly, a delicate kiss that only sent excitement running down your spine.

He sucked on your lower lip, pulling away to nibble on it slightly and you whimpered under him, his grip on your thigh tightening in response. His eyes opened to meet yours once again, and just like that, everything shifted.

He was diving into you again, lips and tongues clashing together, and he sighed into you. His fingers slipped up from your leg to grope at your ass, fingers slipping under the denim of your shorts and nails scraping at your supple skin. His other hand dropped from holding your face, skimming along the back of your other leg as he pinched, your body jumping up with faith, and he caught you securely.

Your heels were digging into his ass, feeling it shift with every step he took until your back was meeting the cushions of the couch, his body centimetres from yours as he held himself up to look at you, fingers weaving through your hair as his hot pants washed over your face. “God, you’re so beautiful.” You smiled slightly, his finger tracing down over your jaw, before tracing over your lips, stopping in the centre. “I can’t wait to see what you look like when you cum for me, kitten.”

“Holy shit..” The words slipped from you by accident, but he took the opportunity of your parted lips to slip two of his fingers into your mouth. You closed your lips around them eagerly, sucking on them and swirling around the digit, soaking them. His jaw was hanging open, eyes hooded with lust as you did so and he retracted them with a pop.

Sitting back, he kneeled over you, fingers swiftly pushing up the shirt you wore to find the button on your jean shorts, popping it slowly and dragging the zipper down. Slipping his fingers under the fabric, they pushed straight past your panties, meeting your wet folds and a loud moan left you at the contact, your hips bucking up into him.

“You’re already soaked, kitten, and we haven’t even started yet. You’re dripping, making such a mess. What a pretty sight it is.” His tone was condescending, and you couldn't help but love it. Arousal was dripping from every word that left his tongue, only flooding you more as heat crawled along your skin, a whine leaving you as he barely brushed his finger against your clit.

“Tommy, do something!” You begged, and he cooed down at you, free hand coming up to palm at your tits through your shirt as a single finger slipped into you, slowly and teasingly until he was buried to the knuckle.

“No bra? I knew it. Your tits have been bouncing about under here with every move you’ve made, I’ve been half-hard just watching you move about since the second I walked in here.” His thoughts were spewing out loud, but the way he was twisting and curling his finger was already building you up, and you were clenching around the slender digit, body begging for something more.

He seemed to hear your plea, another finger pushing into you and a cry of his name left your lips, happiness lacing the sigh you followed it with as pleasure raced through your body, igniting every nerve and cell it met. He scissored the digits, twisting his arm as he picked up speed, easing his fingers in and out of you as he stretched you out until they were slamming into you roughly.

The material of your jeans was burning against his skin as he jolted his wrist at rapid paces, but watching the way you bit down on your lip, the way your head was tipping back and digging into the cushions or the way his name sounded falling from your lips, it made the burn worth it. He could feel your arousal, leaking from you, the way your walls were squeezing his fingers and he could only imagine just how good you would feel clenched around his cock, milking him of everything he had to give.

Slipping his thumb up, he flicked it against your clit, barely pressing down before you called out to him, your fingers digging into the material of the couch, scratching it at as you clawed at it, fisting the material between your fingers as you came. Juices were dripping down his fingers, wet sounds filling the room as he pulled his hands from your shorts, your body still twitching and your chest rising and falling at high speeds as you tried to catch your breath.

He took his fingers into his mouth, licking you clean and moaning at the taste of you, his own eyes sliding shut as he savoured your essence on his tongue. “You taste, incredible. I can’t wait to bury my face between your pretty thighs as they clamp around my head as you shake and moan for me.”

“Maybe later..” Your hand came out, reaching for him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt as you pulled yourself up into a sitting position. Your lips were brushing his tantalisingly, not in a kiss, just enough to tease him, and as he leaned forward to close the gap, you pulled away. “Right now, I just need your cock buried so deep within me that I’m seeing stars.”

A low growl left him as he stood, pulling you to your feet before him and taking your hand in his. The shorts that had been sitting on your waist loosely fell to the ground, and you stepped out of them, flicking them up with your foot and not bothering to check where they landed. He trailed your hand along his chest, and you swallowed thickly at the evidence of a well-toned and defined body beneath the fabric, your fingers twitching to rip the shirt from him so you could see, but he only took your hand lower.

The tips of your fingers met denim, and he lowered your hand over the bulge in his pants, squeezing your hand in his and groaning lowly. “That’s what you do to me, kitten. ‘M gon’ fuck you so good, no guy will ever be able to fuck you the way I do, ever again. You’ll be all mine.”

“Make me yours, Thomas. Show me what you’ve got.” His fingers popped the button on his jeans swiftly, yanking the zip down and his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his jeans and his boxers, pushing them down to his ankles as your hand found his chest, pushing him back until he was sitting on the couch.

Turning your back to him, your own fingers played with the hem of your panties, your ass in his face as you bent over to push them along your legs. His hand wrapped around his cock, tugging and pumping at it with speed as he watched you, hooded eyes focused on your dripping core. With his free hand, he found your hip, pulling backwards until you were sitting in his lap, his cock pressed between your back and his stomach, his hand still working over himself.

Lifting yourself up on shaky legs, he dragged his tips against your folds, swirling in the wetness you had for him before lining the head of his cock up with you, and you sank down onto him, a whine leaving your lips as you did. “You are so god damn tight.” His breath had been forced from his lungs, eyes rolled back in his head as your drenched heat surrounded him, already hugging him tight and you weren’t even moving yet.

Leaning forward, your hands found his legs, locking on for grip as you began to roll your hips back into his, the feeling of your walls moving against every inch of him causing both of you to moan wantonly into the hot and thick air. It was raw and needy, and purely pent up sexual frustration from the second the two of you had laid eyes on one another, but God was it good.

His fingertips were digging into your flesh as he gripped your hips, and you were sure you were going to be covered in fingerprints tomorrow, from the way he held your hips to the way he grasped your thighs, and the thought only excited you more. Circling your hips, he let out a strangled moan as you clenched around him, his fingers flexing on your hip as he bucked up into you slightly.

A small whine left his lips when you slowed the pace to tease him, and he thrust up into you as best he could, a chuckle leaving your lips at his neediness. His hands circled across to the front of your body, sliding up over your stomach to grip at your tits roughly, pawing at the palmfuls in his hands as you mewled loudly at the sensation.

You had stopped moving all together now, your walls clenching around him every time he squeezed at the mounds on your chest, electricity shooting through you as he pulled you into him, your back meeting his chest. “Kitten, I do not like to be teased. Unless you pick up the pace, I will flip you over and fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.” He nipped at your earlobe as he said it, before leaving a wet and sloppy kiss against your jaw, your head tilting to give him more access.

Your hips began to move again, bouncing up and down on his lap, his cock sliding from within you before slamming back in each time, your breathless moans filling the room as he grunted in your ear. “Oh, yeah? What would you do?”

“Firstly, I would bend you over this couch and mark up that pretty little ass of yours. I think it would just look so good, glowing cherry red as my cock was buried in your tight little pussy. Handprints all over your skin, showing everyone exactly who you belong to.” Your eyes rolled back at the simple words, and your head rolled onto his shoulder, your legs growing tired as you shook in his grasp. His fingers slid back long your stomach, one hand guiding your hips in a lazy rhythm as the others came to play with your clit, flicking and pinching the little bundle of nerves.

“W-What else?”

“Hmm, well, I think you’d just look so good covered in lovebites, so I’d mark you up real nice, just for me to see. I’d fuck you ‘til you were screaming and shaking, begging me to stop but also begging me for more, and then, you can get on your knees while I fuck this beautiful mouth of yours until I cum, and you can swallow it all like the good girl I know you are.” His fingers pinched at your clit as he reached the end of his sentence, a cry leaving your lips as you jumped in his grasp.

The muscles in your stomach were tightening, that familiar tingling was crawling from your core and along every muscle in your body. “Please, Tommy..”

“Please, what, kitten?”

“Please fuck me like you said you would.” He seemed to pause for a moment, his nose nuzzling at your shoulder gently as he placed a kiss to your shoulder blade. “Okay.”

The minute he had spoken, you were lifted from him, a displeased whine leaving you as his cock slipped from your wet core, leaving you to clench around nothing as he spun you around. Dropping you over the couch, your knees met the cushions as your arms lay against the back, and you scrabbled to hold yourself up against it as he fingers smoothed over your ass. Pulling his hand back, he brought it down in a harsh slap, your body jolting forwards as a long moan left your lips, the skin stinging as the pain added to the pleasure infinitesimally.

He repeated the action, twice more, until your legs were rubbing together, slickness coating the inside of your thighs as you tried to relieve yourself of some of the aching need. His hands skimmed along your legs as he leaned over you, kissing along your back before prying your legs apart, coolness sweeping over your heat.

He lined himself back up, nudging himself against your clit, just to watch the way you would beg and plead him, before finally, he slammed himself back inside of you, deep and full. His name left your lips in a cry, your bottom lip held prisoner between your teeth as he set a bruising pace, hips slamming in and out of you.

One hand wrapped in your hair, pulling you upwards roughly as his other hand slipped around your waist to hold you up against him tightly. Each thrust was knocking the air from your lungs, your body giving in to him entirely as his mouth found your neck. He was sucking, biting and licking at every bit of skin he could find, your body littered with marks, just for him.

Your hand came up behind you, your fingers lacing into his hair and tightening, the feeling of your fingers scratching against his scalp had his hips stuttering, faltering in their pace as he groaned, and you tugged, his lips leaving your neck. “‘M so close. Kiss me, Tommy.”

He didn’t make you ask twice, his lips descending on yours, and the messy exchange could barely be described as a kiss. His lips moved fervently against yours, his hands coming up to plays with your tits, fingers tugging at your nipples and you came, your core holding around him so tightly he could barely move as he gasped into your mouth. Your eyes were rolling back, the tip of his cock pressed to your g-spot when he stilled and you spasmed in his arms, body jerking as the most intense orgasm you had ever had torn through your body.

Your head was spinning, and he slowly fucked you through the last seconds of our climax, dragging it out for as long as he could, the sounds of you screaming his name until your throat was raw being the sweetest sound he had ever heard. Finally, he pulled out, and you collapsed onto the couch cushions, body still twitching. He grunted behind you, his hand working over himself rapidly, fingers and cock glistening with your arousal and the sight alone had heat flushing your body.

He was a fucking masterpiece.

Your fingers came out shakily, gripping his wrist to slow his pace to a halt and his eyes opened to see you as you lowered yourself to the ground before him, a hazy smirk on your lips as you looked up at him through your lashes. “Thought you wanted to fuck my ‘beautiful mouth’?” Your wink urged him into action, and he pressed his hard member against your lips, groaning happily when you parted them for him to slip between. His fingers laced into your hair, his hips stuttering as he tested how far he could bury himself.

“H-Holy shit.” You gagged around him as he tapped the back of your throat, and you pushed yourself forward until your nose was brushing against the hairs as the base of his cock, feeling him twitch and throb in your mouth as desperate pleas fell from his lips. Pulling back, he slowly thrust into your mouth, his fingers pulling at your hair, your scalp burning as tears ran down your face and saliva ran down your chin, but the sounds he was making made it all worth it.

Watching him crumble above you, was a sight that you would never forget, your core already begging for more. Coming up to grip at his thighs, your nails scraped at his skin, and he exploded. Reams of hot cum shot from his tip, covering your tongue and the insides of your cheeks as you hummed around him, causing him to release a broken moan as he gave you everything he had.

You swallowed around him happily, licking and sucking him clean as you pulled back until finally, he left your mouth with a quiet ‘pop’. His hand was held out to you lazily, pulling you to your feet and his arms looped around your waist, his nose nuzzling against your temple as he sighed happily. “That was fucking incredible, kitten.”

You merely hummed, anxiety coursing through your body as you were beginning to think a little more clearly, and you pulled away from him, your cheek leaving the soft material of the shirt he’d never even taken off as you stepped back. Looking around yourself, you located your panties on the floor, tugging the lace up your legs and avoiding his eye. Gathering up all the empty bottles you could find, you ignored the rustling of his jeans as he pulled them back up his legs, and instead made your way to the kitchen.

Disposing of the bottles in the bin, you spun around, shocked slightly to find him to have followed you, his body almost pressed up against yours as he looked at you. “Your anxiety is giving me anxiety.”

You laughed gently at his words, your hands wringing together in front of you. “I don’t normally do this. I’m trying to make it easier for you to leave, so we don’t have to talk about it. Make it weird.”

“Leave? Why would I leave?” He stepped closer, his fingers finding your waist as he pulled you into him, your fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt and you avoided his eye.

“I figured now that we were done, you’d feel better, and you’d want to leave.”

His fingers found a place under your chin, tipping your face up until you were looking at him and he smiled at your softly, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. “I’m not going anywhere. I kinda’ want to cuddle. I’m getting tired.” You smiled, shaking your head at him fondly and his own smile widened when he saw yours. Leaning forward, his lips brushed the shell of your ear, fingers slipping down from your hips to squeeze as your ass. “Besides, you promised me you’d let me bury my head between your thighs, and I haven’t gotten to do that yet.”

“Oh, fuck..” You murmured, and he hummed happily, kissing at your cheek as he pulled away.

“Upstairs, clothes off, on your bed. I’ll come find you, I’ll lock the front door and turn the lights off, m’kay?” You nodded quickly, letting him place a gentle kiss to your lips before you took off up the stairs. You could hear him tinkering about behind you, and you had had barely stripped your shirt from your head when his feet began hitting the stairs.

Pushing your panties back down your legs, you threw them in the vague direction of your laundry hamper, the door pushing open as you turned to face him. He paused, his gaze raking over you slowly and he swallowed thickly at the sight of you. “God, look at you..” His hand ran over his jaw, before he tugged his own shirt up and over his head, throwing it away onto the floor.

Your eyes scanned over his torso, taking in the defined lines of toned muscle, and the dark patches of hair on his chest, and the trail leading down into his undone jeans. Your fingers reached out to him, and he stepped forward to meet you, your touch grazing over his skin so light he could barely feel it.

“I thought I said I wanted you on the bed by the time I got up here?” You had no chance to reply as he leaned down, scooping your legs out from under you and tossing you back into the cushions and quilts on your bed. A squeal left your lips as you landed, and you made to shuffle back up the bed but his hand locked around your ankle, pulling you until your ass was hanging over the edge as he knelt on the floor between your legs.

Kissing his way up to your thigh slowly, you squirmed in his grasp, an unhappy whine leaving your lips as he did so. Biting at the skin gently, he finally reached where you wanted him, and he blew cold air against you, chuckling darkly at the way your hips bucked up, a gasp sounding from you.

Without warning, his arms wrapped around the outside of your thighs, tongue swiping through your folds to suck at the wetness that was already building and you moaned, hips jumping as your hands came down to thread into the dark, fluffy hair on his head. His nose nudges against your clit before he moved up to suck the swollen bud between his lips harshly. His name echoed from the walls of the room as you moaned it wantonly, the feeling of his mouth swirling and sucking at your wetness had you landing on cloud nine.

You rolled your chips upwards, grinding your hips into his face and he released something between a growl and hum against you, the feeling shooting along your body and setting your nerves alight. You were covered in goosebumps, body jumping and writhing wildly in his grasp as he pinned your hips to the bed.

Circling your entrance with his tongue, he pushed the muscle into you just slightly, letting you clench around it before he retracted it, teasing you mercilessly as you whimpered and begged for him. Finally, he gave into to you cries, plunging his tongue into you and your back arched up, leaving the bed as your fingers pulled at his hair. The sounds you were making only spurred him on, his mouth moving against you like you were his last meal as he hungered for everything you were giving him, licking you clean and moaning into your core as he went.

Your climax was building rapidly, and one of the hands holding your waist slipped down, fingers pinching at your clit and rolling it between the pads, the stimulation throwing you into another orgasm. You jerked in his grasp as you came, letting him lick you clean until the feeling of his mouth on your centre was too much, and you were pushing yourself backwards up the bed and away from his touch.

He looked up at you as you sighed happily, thoroughly spent and fucked out as you lay among the blankets, and he stood up, dropping his jeans to join the pile on the floor before crawling up the bed, collapsing next to you lazily with an arm slung over your waist. You were too tired to even pull the blankets over yourself, never mind get dressed, and you let him pull you back into his chest.

He did the work, tugging the sheets up and over our bodies as you settled into his warmth, his lips pressing occasional kisses to the back of your neck as your eyes drooped. Whatever you had to deal with tomorrow sounded like a bridge you’d cross when you reached it, but right now, you were happy just falling asleep in his arms as he held you.

You awoke with a sudden start, your eyes snapping open and you became vaguely aware of the unusual but comfortable warmth around you. Twisting slowly under the arm that was around your waist, you turned to face the man sleeping beside you, his features softened and at ease as he slept peacefully beside you.

His lips were pouted slightly in his sleep, eyebrows raised, and you traced your finger along the bridge of his nose carefully, lightly enough not to wake him before lifting his arm from your waist, rolling from the bed quietly and replacing your form with a pillow. Tugging a fresh pair of pantied up your legs and a fresh shirt over your head, you ran your fingers through your hair to tame it, before making your way down the stairs quietly.

You had set off the bacon, sausages keeping warm on plates as the toast cooked, and you tapped an egg against the side of the pan, cracking it before releasing the contents into the hot oil to sizzle. Hands found your waist, circling to rest on your stomach as you were pulled back into a warm chest. “Good morning, beautiful.”

He’d pulled his own shirt on, leaving his jeans on the floor as he’d made his way downstairs, and he pressed a kiss to the back of your head before making his way over to the fridge.

Pulling a carton of fruit juice from inside, he held it up to you for approval before grabbing two glasses from the cabinet beside your head and pouring you both a glass, setting them out on the island before making his way back to you. His knuckles ran over your arm as he leaned against his hip on the counter, watching you as you watched the food, not looking up to him. “You’re being all quiet and anxious again. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I just figured you would be running as fast as you could right now when you sobered up and realised what you did.” Yu eventually spoke to him, and his touch on your arm stilled for a second before his fingers dropped to find yours, lacing them together gently.

“When I woke up this morning, I was happier than I had been in a long time. The only thing that would’ve made it better is if you would have been there with me, still in my arms.” You turned to look at him, giving him a sceptical look as you turned the hob off, reaching for a set of plates before he stopped you, turning you to face him fully. “I think I connected with you more in one drunken night - before we fucked - than I ever did with Teresa, and that’s the truth. I don’t want to rush into anything, but for now, I’d really like if we could have breakfast, and just be happy.”

You weren’t sure what to say, your lips parted as you jaw hung loose slightly and a hopeful smile flicked at his features as he watched you. Leaning in, the breath between you both shared as his nose bumped against yours, waiting for your permission before you closed the gap, a soft sigh leaving him as you did. He moved his lips against your own slowly, smiling into the kiss as he pulled away, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

The sound of keys in the front door had both of your eyes widening, and as the sound of the lock opening startled you more, you backed away from one another, your cheeks flushing as you turned back to the stove, Thomas standing awkwardly in the kitchen, unable to move before Newt approached the doorway, looking through the letters in his hands.

“Hey, you got some-” He paused as he finally looked up, eyes narrowing as he took in Thomas standing in the middle of the room, your back to him as you searched the cupboards for plates. “Tommy, hey.”

“Hey, Newt..”

“Where are your pants, mate?” Thomas’ head dropped to look at his boxer clad legs before back up to his friend, and you snickered into the cupboard, pulling out three plates and laying them on the counter before you, deciding you were clearly going to have to split the food three ways now.

“He came over to see you yesterday, but you weren’t here, so he stayed for a few drinks and didn’t want to drive home drunk.” You shrugged, and Newt hummed, pouring his own glass of juice before taking a seat at the counter. Thomas sat opposite him, cheeks still flaming red. “That doesn’t explain why you have no pants on. Why are you chasing my housemate around in your underwear?” He was teasing now, and you cleared your throat, placing a plate of food down in front of him to distract him and it seemed to work as he tucked in hungrily. You served yourself and Thomas up some breakfast as well, taking a seat and trying to avoid the tension in the air. Newt wasn’t even looking up when he next spoke, but it caught you off guard; “Nice hickies, Tommy.”

Your eyes looked to the boy’s neck, brows furrowed as his skin sat clean and Thomas lifted the salt shaker from the middle of the counter up, using it’s slightly distorted reflection to look at his neck. “I don’t have any hickies?”

“No, but (Y/N) does.” Your hands flew up to your neck as Thomas looked over, wide-eyed, before his face just cracked into a smirk, a chuckle leaving his lips and Newt proudly ate his food, looking between the two of you. “Your shorts are still hanging off the back of the couch love. Saw ‘me when I came in.”

Your head dropped into your hands in embarrassment, both of the boys laughing lowly as you cursed, whining at their continued amusement. When you finally looked back up, Newt was just shaking his head as he ate his food, and Thomas winked at you, pushing a forkful of bacon into his mouth.

“At least I don’t have to set you up on that blind date, now. Seems you found her all by yourself.”

Thomas’ eyes found yours again, and this time they were filled with something more, a twinkle in his eye as he looked at you, swallowing his food thickly before turning back to his friend.

“Yeah, I did. She’s perfect for me.”

494 notes · View notes