#spending time with his congregation who are all lovely older people and there's only about a dozen of them

[allisonreader]

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: more religion 😬 depression, Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi appear. Jungkook in a towel 💦👅 finally a kiss (things from here happen quickly.) ATTENTION, THIS STORY IS NOT SLOWBURN.

A/N: Guys, I took a while this time for reasons of: laziness and discouragement. I wanted more people to read what I write, but I'm introverted even on the Internet, which leaves me with few alternatives to show my writing to the world. Thinking about it, I'm in trouble. Other than that, only a few days have passed, so everything is fine. Back to the story, everything starts to pick up pace. Just to repeat, the fanfic is not slowburn, so there will be smut in the next chapter. Stay tuned.

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Chapter 3

I spend the whole week riding an emotional rollercoaster. I find myself visiting my neighbor, Mrs. Jeon, more frequently than usual, and with each visit, our friendship blossoms deeper. She shares stories of her youth, of wild adventures and carefree days when she was my age. Her openness encourages me to share my own experiences–or rather, my lack of them. I recount my first disastrous kiss, confess that I've never been in love, and reveal how my once unshakeable faith in the church has wavered since my father's passing. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders; here, I am free to be imperfect, to be vulnerable, without fear of judgment.

Yet, there's one thing I keep to myself: the incident with her son, Jungkook, and the profound effect he has on me. Throughout all my visits, I never see him again. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I casually ask Mrs. Jeon where he is. She tells me that he moved and rented an apartment to avoid being a burden. He only spent the first night at home after his trip, and I remember that night well–from my window, of course–but I don't mention it. Disappointment settles in me like a stone; I long to see him again, but I focus on his mother instead. Having her to confide in is a relief, a breath of fresh air in my otherwise stifling life.

I patiently wait for her to open up about her own struggles, her depression, but she never does. I worry that I might know something I shouldn't, that perhaps she's not comfortable sharing with me. But I promise myself I'll keep her secret safe, no matter what. Today is Sunday, and I won't visit Mrs. Jeon since I'll see her at church. I'm excited–despite my mother making unnecessary comments and disturbing my peace of mind, I'll have someone to rely on.

I smooth down my dark brown dress, fixing my messy hair. I dab a bit of lipstick on my fingertips and press it onto my lips, careful not to overdo it. The truth is, I enjoy makeup, but I've never learned how to apply it properly. I feel embarrassed drawing attention to myself with bolder colors; after all, people are used to my lack of vanity. I sigh, steeling myself as I head downstairs to meet my mother.

She hasn't stopped talking about Jungkook. Unlike me, who had a good first impression, she despises him. She criticizes everything: his eyebrow piercing, his bold style, his tattoos, even the way he carries himself. I can't help but wonder if she accepted the dinner invitation just to analyze him, searching for flaws that exist only in her mind. She's been friends with Misuk since moving to town, and I want to believe–perhaps naively–that my mother doesn't have ulterior motives.

We arrive at church early, the space quiet with only a few members milling about. My mother drifts away to chat with the older congregation, and I find a seat, taking a deep breath. I scan the room for Mrs. Jeon but I don't see her. Since it's still early, I'm not too worried. I take a moment to read the Bible, reflecting on positive thoughts when I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder. I turn, and there he is–Jungkook, smiling brightly. I frown, almost convinced he's a mirage. Am I daydreaming?

"Hi Y/N, are you okay?" he asks softly, his lips brushing almost against my ear. His intense gaze locks with mine, and I'm relieved to be sitting down; my legs feel weak in his presence.

"Everything's fine," I reply, my eyes dropping to my fingers. I want to engage him, ask about his week, inquire how he's been, but the words stick in my throat. It's as though I can't act normally around him. I take a deep breath, mustering the courage to comment, "I didn't know you attended church."

"I don't," he laughs, amusement dancing in his eyes. And rightly so; considering his clothes–a heavy leather jacket, shaved sides, and a wavy fringe–it's sexy but definitely not what you'd expect at church. "I haven't been since I was a kid."

"Really? Why?" I ask, genuinely curious, my gaze drawn to his eyebrow piercing, oddly captivating.

"I didn't feel welcome," he replies simply. There's no bitterness in his voice, and I understand all too well what he means. My mother, for example, was the first to judge him based on his appearance, and I can only imagine how difficult it is to feel at home in a place where you're not embraced.

"I understand," I say, unsure of what else to add. "So, you came here to give it another shot?"

"No way," he chuckles. "Actually, my mom mentioned you two planned to meet at church today."

"That's true," I confirm.

"Unfortunately, she can't make it today. She's not feeling well."

"Is she okay?" My concern surfaces immediately.

"She's fine, don't worry. Just a headache, and she took some medicine. She'll be better soon," he assures me, his hand lightly touching my shoulder. I can't help but notice how warm and gentle his touch is. I shake my head, trying to divert my thoughts from Jungkook's hands to anything else.

"I'm relieved to hear that," I smile, noticing the church is starting to fill up.

"I'm actually inviting some friends over to my apartment, and I wanted to know if you'd like to join us," he says, brushing his fingertips against his ear, a bit shy. I'm taken aback; I didn't expect this invitation. He wants me to come over with his friends?

"And why?" I ask, surprised. It's been a while since we last saw each other, and we haven't talked much even then.

"I like you. I want you to come so we can have fun."

"If this is some kind of payment, or something like that... you really don't need to." I reply, not believing it. I don't have friends, and the thought that he wants to be with me and the people he likes seems absurd to me.

"It's not that. I'm even a bit offended." He jokes, smiling. "I really want you to come, please."

"Jungkook... I don't know."

"I swear they're nice. Every time I'm in Busan, we hang out. They're trustworthy, I promise."

"I can imagine," I reply, still hesitant. I'd have to leave church, skip the service, and ask my mother for permission to go out with him, and of course, she wouldn't allow it. No way. It's not that I don't want to; I desperately want to spend time with him. That's been on my mind all week. "I don't think it's possible; my mom..."

"I know," he interjects, as if he anticipated my response. "But what if, just this once, you say you are going to my mom's? We could say I'm taking you there when in fact, you're coming to my apartment."

"Are you asking me to lie to my mother in a church?" I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it. He shrugs, grinning.

"God knows it's just once," he replies confidently, pouting slightly. "What do you say? Later, I can take you to my mom's whenever you want, or you can stay at my apartment since I have more than one room. You set the time and conditions."

"Jungkook..." I groan, covering my face with my hands. The thought of lying to my mother, especially to go to a guy's house, sends a wave of anxiety through me. If she finds out, I'll be in big trouble.

"Come on! It'll be fun. I promise," he pleads softly. I can't say no to him, at least not now. I nod, agreeing to the madness.

"Okay, but you're the one who's going to talk to my mom. And if I say I want to leave, you agree. No alcohol because I know you drive. Those are my conditions," I assert, trying to sound firm. He smiles and salutes me, like a soldier receiving orders, and I slowly get up, taking small steps toward my mother. I let Jungkook lead the way, my nerves creeping back as I prepare to tell a lie in this sacred place.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Eunji. Good afternoon, everyone," he greets my mom and the other church members. My mother looks utterly shocked, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she takes in his appearance.

"Good afternoon, Jungkook," she replies, lacking enthusiasm, her gaze scanning him from head to toe. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to do a favor for my mom," he clarifies, and if I didn't know better, I'd almost believe him. "My mom asked Y/N to keep her company since my dad will be out of town for a few days. I came to pick her up."

"Really?" my mom looks at me, and I don't say anything, just nodding.

"It's true. My dad went to Daegu this weekend, and since my mom hasn't been feeling well, she asked Y/N to spend time with her. If you allow it, of course," he smiles calmly, and I brace myself waiting for my mother's response. I watch her weigh her options, glancing between Jungkook and me for what feels like an eternity before she sighs and nods.

"Alright, that's fine. Is your mom feeling okay?"

"Yes, she's getting better. Can we go now?" he asks, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"Yes, you may go," my mom sighs, placing a hand on her forehead. "It's a shame you're missing the service today, Y/N. Next week, you'll definitely come, okay?"

"Yes, mom, for sure," I agree weakly, clearing my throat and avoiding her gaze, still stunned that she let me go to Jungkook's house. Well, not his house, but is practically the same thing.

"Shall we go, Y/N? My mom is waiting," Jungkook says, raising an eyebrow. I nod, still silent, as we make our way toward the exit.

Some people stare, especially the older members, who seem shocked by Jungkook's appearance–too conservative, in my opinion. Somehow, the situation feels even funnier. Once we're sure no one can see us anymore, I burst into laughter, clutching my stomach. Jungkook chuckles too, exhaling as if he's just finished a tough exam and is finally free.

"Your mom is tough, huh?" he laughs. "I thought she was going to kill me with her eyes."

"Sorry," I say, still giggling a little. "She's like that with everyone."

"Even with you?"

"Even with me," I nod. "What do we do now?"

"Now, we go to my apartment. My friends have the key, so they're probably already there."

"Don't tell me they're all guys," I groan, suddenly anxious. I hadn't considered that he might not have any female friends, and I'd be the only girl at the apartment if that were the case.

"No, relax! I have female friends too. You'll like them," he assures me, walking toward a sleek black car parked across the street. I know nothing about cars, but I can tell this one is expensive. I feel out of place, acutely aware that Jungkook lives in a different world, one that's far removed from my own.

The tension in the car is palpable as we drive. The ride feels like it takes forever, the windows closed, and I'm intoxicated by his scent. I discreetly watch his large hands on the wheel, the way his long fingers tap rhythmically against the leather seat. I have to swallow hard to keep from drooling over him. I'm starving–not for food, but for him. All week, I've yearned to be near him, to touch him. I think I'm suffering from a Jungkook overdose, craving something I haven't even tasted yet.

I ponder whether he's aware of the effect he has on me, but I like to believe he hasn't noticed. It's easier that way. I breathe slowly, attempting to relax in my seat. It takes another ten minutes before Jungkook opens the gate to a condo with a small remote and drives in slowly. His car fits the place perfectly. Everything is stunning and upscale. I glance at my clothes and regret agreeing to come. Why did I say yes? I don't know his friends, and I don't know Jungkook that well, aside from the overwhelming attraction I feel toward him. What do I actually know about him? That he's a tattoo artist from Seoul? That he's rich and hasn't set foot in a church since childhood? I feel like I've walked into a situation that's spiraling out of control.

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You went quiet all of a sudden," he asks, concern etched on his face.

"I'm fine. Just feeling a bit strange," I admit.

"Why?"

"I don't know," I confess, omitting my paranoid thoughts. "I always feel like this in new places."

"I get that. I feel that way too," he tells me as we step into the parking elevator. I follow him, digesting this new revelation.

"You seem so confident and social," I comment, genuinely amazed. His big eyes meet mine as the elevator rises, floors passing by in a blur.

"I know, it seems that way. But in reality, I'm quite introverted. I have a small circle of friends and prefer it that way. I just fake it really well," he shares, and I find myself wanting to know more about the person behind the confident exterior.

"Really?" I ask, intrigued.

"Yeah," he nods, his expression earnest.

I try to respond, but the elevator stops on a floor, and Jungkook smiles at me, indicating that this is the right place. I feel one of his hands gently touch my waist, guiding me to a white door. I have to take a deep breath to keep from freaking out, my sweaty, trembling hands hidden in my pocket. I hear different music from the other side of the door before the place fully opens up to us.

"Hey, he's here! Finally, Jungkook!" I hear a male voice. It's a guy around Jungkook's age, I realize as soon as we walk in. His hair is a dark red, and his skin is pale and smooth. It's no surprise that his arms are covered in tattoos, drawings and phrases I can't read so far away. He also watches me closely, smiling warmly.

"Guys, this is YN, the one I told you about," Jungkook introduces me with a smile.

I turn red because there are at least seven people staring at me from head to toe. The apartment is well-kept, with dark wooden furniture. The living room is immaculate, with abstract paintings and photos of Jungkook and his family on the walls. I don't have much time to take everything in as my eyes focus on Jungkook's friends, who are strangers to me so far. Saying they're different from me would be an understatement.

They all have many tattoos and wear dark clothing. I sense an aura of confidence from all of them, but never hostility. It's as if they're very similar to Jungkook, with a completely different exterior from their inner selves. I relax a bit, smiling warmly and putting on my best expression.

"Nice to meet you all," I say, feeling a bit shy. They stand up and smile at me.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Yoongi. That's my girlfriend, Minji," says the red-haired guy, pointing to the woman who just smiles. I offer my hand, feeling his cold skin from the beer bottle he was holding earlier.

"I'm Bora, and this is my boyfriend, Jimin," one of the dark-haired women greets me next, pointing to her boyfriend. They're a good-looking couple, the kind you see in magazines. Jimin has the brightest and most open smile.

"Nice to meet you," I nod.

"I'm Taehyung, but you can call me Tae," one of the guys says, taking a sip of his drink.

"I'm Yoori, Tae's girlfriend. Nice to meet you," she winks, making me laugh.

"And I'm Hayun, the only single one in the group," one of the girls shakes my hand, pulling me into a hug. She kisses my cheek, making her presence increasingly noticeable.

"Hayun, you're only single because you want to be, come on," Bora rolls her eyes. Hayun laughs, grabbing a snack from the coffee table.

"I like being single, except when I'm surrounded by couples. Especially couples like you guys."

"Do you have a boyfriend, Y/N?" Jimin asks. Embarrassed, I shake my head.

"No," I reply. They seem surprised, making noises with their mouths.

"But Jungkook is single too, right?" The guy with dark hair says, drinking his beverage. I thinks his name is Tae, if I remember right.

"And I want to keep that way." Jungkook replys.

"Of course you do." Yoongi laughs along with his friends, rolling his eyes. I remain silent, not understanding the joke. Then Yoongi looks at me and seems to notice my confusion. "Y/N, Jungkook never dates. The only time he tried, it went so wrong that now he doesn’t want to do it again."

"It was a disaster." Yoori adds, as if telling a fictional story. Jungkook rolls his eyes, sighing, but his friend continues: "he’s been avoiding relationships like the devil avoids the cross since then."

"Really?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"It’s not true, Y/N." Jungkook smiles at me. "They’re idiots."

"That’s not a lie." Minji, who had been silent until then, clarifies. "He’s been asked out several times, and he always declines. Women go crazy for him, for some reason."

"I know what the reason is." Jimin laughs mischievously, suggesting something while raising an eyebrow. I turn red when they laugh at the joke. Jungkook doesn’t contest it, too busy eating one of the snacks on the table. "But what about you, Y/N? Have you ever dated before?"

"Never." I reply. They don't look surprised this time.

"So you're like Jungkook, who avoids relationships?" Bora asks with a laugh. I feel Jungkook's eyes on me, watching attentively for my response. I shake my head, feeling awkward.

"No, actually, it's just a lack of options," I clarify, deciding to be honest. I hold my hands together nervously.

"Now you have two options," Yoongi suggests with a chuckle. Minji hits his arm trying to stop him, but he continues: "There's Hayun, since she likes to try out a little bit of everything, like some pussy and shit."

"Oh!" I widen my eyes, shocked, as they laugh even more. It's the first time I've seen someone speak so openly like this. Embarrassed, I look at Hayun, but she doesn't seem to mind the comment, laughing with the others.

"Who would be the other option?" Taehyung asks his friend with his trademark grin.

"Our friend Jungkook, obviously," Yoongi clarifies, and I choke on the answer, coughing uncontrollably.

They laugh even more, watching me nearly suffocate from the joke. Jungkook pats my back, smiling widely. His thumb caresses the skin of my arm, waiting for me to calm down. We're so close that he inadvertently wraps one of his arms around my shoulder. I'm shocked and even more unsettled. For me, physical contact beyond my mom is rare. Hugs, affection... I'm just not used to it.

"Are you okay?" he asks amidst his friends' chatter. I nod, staring at my hands. "Sorry about Yoongi; he always makes these kinds of jokes. He doesn't mean any harm."

"It's fine," I assure him, feeling awkward, unable to look into his eyes. "I actually liked everyone."

"Really?" he asks, bringing his nose close to my hair. My whole body shivers as I realize he's smelling my perfume, giving a satisfied smile when he pulls away. "Good to know."

I stay silent, feeling his warm breath near me. Jungkook removes his arm from my shoulder, but his skin still brushes against mine when he takes off his heavy jacket, leaving him in just a T-shirt. His friends are fun and involve me in the conversation, making me feel comfortable, but the truth is that having Jungkook so close drives me crazy and I can't pay much attention. I wonder how long I'll feel this way about him. Will this strong effect never go away? This is the third time we've met, but something tells me that no matter how many times I see him-be it two times or a thousand-my heart will always race whenever he gets close and smiles at me.

I don't even notice the time passing and only realize it's late when Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung offer to take their girlfriends home, along with Hayun, who complains about not having anyone waiting for her at her apartment. Everyone leaves until only Jungkook and I remain. He promised to take me to his mother's house if I wanted, but I'm hesitant to ask as it's quite likely Mrs. Jeon is already asleep by now.

"Y/N, do you want me to get a towel for you?" Jungkook asks, tidying up the living room. I'm confused, picking up some empty soju bottles his friends drank to throw away.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not going to stay here?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

"Not really?" I laugh, then realize I might have been a bit rude, so I rephrase my response. "I mean, I don't think so. I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother. If you want, you can take a shower in my bathroom and sleep in the guest room." He offers with a smile. I bite my lower lip, unsure what to decide. I want to stay here, but it's just him and me now; is it really the right thing to do? It doesn't matter, Y/N. Just for one night.

"Okay then. Do you have a toothbrush, please?"

"Of course I do. Come with me, I'll get the stuff for you to use the bathroom." He calls me with a smile and walks down the long hallway. We pass by a few doors until we reach his room. My throat goes dry as my eyes scan the new space. His bed is large and covered with a dark gray blanket. The walls are white and everything is very organized, with a laptop next to the wardrobe and a fluffy black rug on the floor. His scent is everywhere, almost as if I'm breathing him. I clutch my hands together nervously about being alone with Jungkook in such an intimate space. He reappears after going to the closet, holding a white towel and some cotton clothes.

"You can take a shower in my bathroom while I use the guest one," he says, placing the items in my hands.

"Jungkook, that's not necessary..."

"Don't worry. I want you to be comfortable." He says before I can argue. His satisfied smile makes me not deny it again, happy to receive so much care from him. I just nod, agreeing. "The toothbrush is in the cabinet by the sink, in the package. You can open it, okay?"

"Okay, thank you very much." I smile before he walks down the hallway. I head to the door leading to the bathroom and sneak into the new space. I start thinking Jungkook has no flaws.

The place is as clean as the rest of the apartment, which makes me curious; does he clean everything himself, or does he hire someone to keep it tidy? I slowly take off my dress, grabbing my phone to text my mom and let her know I'm okay. I feel bad for lying, but the night was so good that I can't truly regret it. If I had to lie, to meet these same people, I would do it again. Thinking this surprises me, because just a few hours ago, I didn't think this way. The shower has a strong hot jet of water that massages my whole body, and it's so good that I have to convince myself to finish the shower and put on the clothes, trying to be done before Jungkook.

I brush my teeth quickly, smelling my skin that's still male fragrant with the liquid soap. I smile at myself in the mirror, brushing my hair with my fingers, trying to manage the unwashed strands. I open the bathroom door carefully, trying not to make too much noise and disturb the neighbors at this hour, when I see Jungkook again, this time only in a towel. I hold onto the doorframe, barely able to stand. A voice in my head tells me I shouldn't be watching him naked again and that I should turn around, go back into the bathroom, and pretend nothing happened, but I can't. I simply can't anymore. His muscular, wet back is in my field of vision as he searches for clothes. At that moment, my brain turns to mush and I decide to say what's been stuck in my throat.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" I muster the courage to ask him but I regret it immediately. What the hell am I doing? Jungkook turns slowly and the view from the front is a thousand times better than from the back. His whole body glistens in the light of the room, and his tattoos have never been so vivid. His body is muscular, virile and strong. I gonna lose my mind! Feeling new sensations I've never experienced for anyone before.

"Y/N?" He whispers my name with that soft voice he used when we first met. He doesn't seem surprised or embarrassed, which makes me even more unsettled.

"You're doing this on purpose, Jungkook?" I ask again. I have no idea where I got such courage and I don't know how long it will last. My heart feels like it's going to leap out of my chest. My whole body is on edge and sweating. I feel my hands trembling as I swallow hard. "You're trying something? I mean... you're not wearing clothes again and..."

"What do you think, Y/N?" he retorts suddenly, with a hoarse, deep voice. His eyes wander from my head to toes, as he raises an eyebrow along with his piercing, with a smirk at the corner of his mouth. My legs turn to weak twigs immediately, ready to collapse.

"I-I don't know." I stammer as he takes one step, then two and three, getting closer and closer to me.

"When I arrived from my trip to Busan, on the first day, I was tired and exhausted," he tells me, taking another step. I start to run out of breath, anxious and aroused. My cheeks flush as he speaks more slowly. "All I wanted was to rest and sleep the whole night, but that night I couldn't, not for an hour. Do you know why?"

"N-no..." I moan softly as his chest presses against mine. His warm, wet skin makes contact with mine, and I no longer know where I begin or end, pressed against his body. His pink lips curl into a wicked smile, as if he knows exactly what he's doing to me and it's all intentional. I shiver as his free hand moves up my wrist and grips the back of my neck firmly, making my eyes focus on his mouth and then his dark, deep eyes.

"A woman, next window, taking off all her damn clothes, completely shameless," he growls, pulling my neck closer to his face and pressing his lips to my ear. My spine tingles as I feel his teeth on my earlobe, in a bite that doesn't hurt but damn, it makes me shiver. My body contracts once and twice, and I know exactly what I'm feeling now: desire. The kind I feel occasionally when I try to touch myself alone and can't reach climax. The feeling I only have when I'm alone and confortable in my bed, trying to use my imagination even with the lack of real experience, but this is real, and it is infinitely better than what my mind could create.

"It was an accident, Jung..." I try to say, but my voice doesn't come out. The tip of his nose travels along a sensitive spot behind my ear, one I didn't even know existed, slowly moving down my jawline, discovering new paths. His hand tightens around my waist, keeping me in place, immobile.

"It may be that you didn't notice, Y/N, but I know you were watching me, even while I was undressing, even when you had every opportunity to stop." He argues with a smile, as someone who knows what they're doing and enjoys seeing the result. "And you know what's worse...? The worst thing is knowing the effect you have on me. From the first time I saw you in my house, with your innocent and curious eyes. I can't get you out of my damn head. Your mouth, your scent..."

"J-Jungkook... please." I beg, closing my eyes tightly. And I know what I want. I want him, since the first time I saw him. Since my eyes met his, I desired him so strongly that I couldn't think straight. He pulls away just a little, and I almost moan in a plea for him not to go. He sighs, pressing his forehead to mine.

"Can I kiss you, Y/N?" he asks in a very soft voice, and I nod because, despite all the things I believe in–God, hell, heaven and even my mother–nothing has ever been as adored as Jungkook. Since I met him, inexplicably, I only think about him, like a spell unable to contemplate of any other answer besides yes. I look at his eyes as they travel to my mouth, and I lower mine to his, exhilarated by that pink that only exists in him.

I move closer, my lips almost touching his, feeling the warmth of his breath. "Just kiss me, please." I murmur scared of what I'm doing; temptation clear in every word. And then he does.

Ask for a TAGLIST in the comments.

@ane102 @ttipa @joonwater

[venus-haze]

I saw you posted about doing something for cult leader Elvis a while back and I’d love to see headcanons for that if you don’t mind! If not it’s okay💗

Absolutely! It’s still a concept I’m thinking about, but I’ve been focusing on requests. The reader in this is early 20s or older and a woman, but no other specific descriptors are used. @himbocampus made these incredible moodboards inspired by the concept🖤

Cult Leader!Austin!Elvis x Reader

Warnings: Dark themes such as abuse of power, religious/ritual abuse, brainwashing, and obsessive and manipulative behavior, which some people may find disturbing or triggering. Mentions of sexual content which involves coercion. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post ED/thinspo content.

You live in an ever-struggling small town, knowing there’s little way out for the people who live there, the people you’ve known your whole life. It’s not uncommon for all manner of crooks and snake oil salesmen to come through every few weeks, trying to con people willing to spend their spare change in exchange for hope

When Elvis Presley appears as a traveling preacher one day — charismatic and faith healing, you don’t think much of it until he and the small congregation that followed him to your town decide to set up their church there

Your parents are among the more vocal town residents who oppose his presence and forbid you from attending the church’s services or accepting the invitations of the friendly congregants to go over to their houses for dinner

Suddenly, your dying town isn’t dying anymore, as hundreds to thousands of people come from all over to hear his sermons and be healed by this man of God. Even if they don’t become members of the congregation, more and more residents embrace the church and the local economy starts to depend on him and the faith tourism he brings

After a few months, it feels like Elvis has always been there, but you still haven’t been to one of his sermons. Your friends range from awestruck to unimpressed by his charismatic style of preaching, but you want to see for yourself

It’s almost an act of rebellion when you step foot in the church for the Wednesday evening service, figuring it’d be less crowded than the ones on Sunday, where you’d seen people crammed inside of the church

The experience is frightening, if you’re honest, people shouting and collapsing, some in trance-like states as Elvis preaches and sings, his strong voice filling the room so that it feels almost suffocating

Every time you try to leave, you somehow find yourself being pushed closer to the pulpit until you shove your way through the congregation to leave when suddenly, everything stops

Elvis’ voice seems louder than ever as he calls out “Young lady, wait! The Lord has a message for you!” The crowd parts as he walks toward you, and you find yourself frozen in shock at being singled out by the handsome preacher. He reaches out, caressing your cheek before collapsing in front of you

You accompany the handful of church leaders who bring him to the local clinic, where he’s promptly diagnosed with exhaustion and simply prescribed a good night’s sleep. You can’t help but feel guilty somehow, and stay by his bedside until he awakens about an hour later. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out

He smiles, “It ain’t you, darlin’. The Lord’s still got a message for you”

What else is there to do but lean in closer, admiring his slicked black hair, bright blue eyes, and lips that almost made you jealous. He takes your hand in his, squeezing it as he says, “The vision overtook me, the Lord’s will for your life is intertwined with mine”

To your parents’ dismay, you start spending more time with Elvis and at the church, and when you are home, you’re nose-deep in a Bible, writing notes furiously in the margins. The only people you regularly talk to any more are members of the congregation, having let your other friends go to the wayside. They tell you that your aunt has agreed to take you in for a while, let you enjoy city life and a change of scenery

You lose it, screaming and cursing at them before running off toward the church. The area surrounding it has become more of a compound, as members have their houses built in close proximity, able to be in the building whenever the doors are open. Everyone knows you, they’re your true family. When you arrive with tears streaming down your face, begging to see Elvis, one of the church leaders brings you to him

His house is the biggest and nicest in the area, the whole town even, and as soon as you step inside, you’re greeted by his warm embrace and a kiss on your forehead. You frantically explain the situation to him, and he listens intently. No one understands you like he does, no one listens to you like he does, constantly telling you how special you are, set apart from everyone else—like he is. He’s silent a few moments before saying “There’s a way for us to be entwined spiritually and physically forever, in the Lord’s grace”

You immediately regret it when you respond with, “What? Like sex?” because he grimaces before giving you a harsh glare that you’d never had directed toward you before, but all of those past times you thought those people deserved it for making this man of God so angry

“No, we’re too good for something so disgusting and worldly,” he spits. “I don’t ever wanna hear you talk like that again”

You’re not really sure how what the two of you end up doing is different than sex, until he makes you feel better than you’ve ever felt in your life, finding yourself moaning his name over and over like a prayer

It’s fitting though, because you don’t believe in the Bible stuff as much as you believe in him, and you don’t think anyone else who comes to the church does either, so when your parents arrive the next morning, begging you to come home, you have nothing more to say to them than “I already am home”

Taglist: @eliseinmemphis @kittenlittle24  @crash-and-cure @im-lame-irl @loudwombatmugkid @rxsesss @roseymary04 @queendelrey @jovialladyaurora @positivitylane112 @moonknightswif3 @holy-minseok @datsavageavenger @21bruhs @luckyevansstan

[can-youimagine]

Father Reid (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Father Reid finally has some excitement

TW: Smut (18+, minors interacting will be blocked), feminine reader/AFAB reader, priest!Spencer, sex in an empty church, unprotected sex, masturbation, panties, rather dark, minor perv!Spencer, vaginal penetration, light d/s (switch!reader/spencer), wax play, spanking

Word Count: 1965

Masterlist

Spencer walks into the church like he does every week. After spending years working for the FBI, devoting his life to God seemed like the only logical choice. It was peaceful and calm, and even if he didn’t believe every word he was saying, other people did, and it helped them. 

All his life, Spencer has wanted to help people, and now he feels like he truly is. He feels completely and totally at peace. 

At least, he did until he looked into the congregation and saw you. You had never been in his church before, that he is sure of. You are there with an older woman who he does recognize and knows fairly well, giving him a reason to talk to you after mass.

He scolds himself. He should not be thinking about you as anything other than a parishioner, especially since he is saying the mass. Still, when you fall to your knees in front of him, tongue out, ready for communion, he can’t stop himself from ghosting his fingers on your tongue. 

The look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know. You want this too. 

He notices the smirk you give him as he leaves. If you’re this bold now, he can’t wait to see how bold you can be.

“Mrs. Wilson,” he greets the woman before she can take you away from him. “I notice you’ve brought a guest.”

“Yes,” she smiles, wrapping her arm around you. As if you needed an excuse to stay near him. “Father Reid, this is my niece (Y/N).”

“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You give him a gentle smile. “Not too much, I hope.”

He laughs. “What brings you around?” And what can I do to make sure you stay?

“I just moved to the area,” you answer plainly.

So, you are staying. This is the first time all day Spencer wanted to praise God. “We’re lucky to have you.” His eyes stay on you.

“(Y/N) used to work for the FBI, too,” Mrs. Wilson interjects.

“Used to?” is the part that sticks out to him.

You let out an uncomfortable chuckle. “I wasn’t an agent or anything. I worked in HR for a few years after college.”

He feels a sense of relief that you were spared some of the pain the job can cause. He also feels a sense of relief that he now has a perfect opportunity to talk to you without your aunt. “I’d love to talk with you about it sometime.” His sentence doesn’t make sense, and he feels like he did every time he tried to ask a girl out before.

But, he’s not asking you out, because he can’t.

“I’d love that.” You definitely don’t agree to a date with him, because you can’t.

Mrs. Wilson smiles widely. “Oh, it’s so good to see the two of you get along. See, (Y/N), I told you you’d like him.”

“You were right,” you answer with a smirk, causing Spencer to blush. 

“I look forward to seeing you again,” he chokes out.

“Nice to meet you, Father Reid.”

He watches you walk away, your skirt swishing with each step. A breeze blows by, giving him a peek of what’s underneath as if God can hear him. Though, he’s not quite certain whether God is rewarding him for his self-control or punishing him for his lack of it. 

He speaks politely with the other members of the church before locking himself in the rectory. He tried to push the thoughts away, but the image of your lavender panties barely covering your ass is imprinted on his brain. The feeling of your tongue on his fingers has burnt itself onto him. The last thing he wants to do is disrespect you, but then again, you seemed to know exactly what you were doing.

After nearly a full day of trying to get you out of his mind, he finally bites the bullet. Closes his eyes as he slides his pants down. Gripping himself through his underwear, he imagines your hand teasing him. He imagines your smirk as you scold him for his sin. Whatever comes next is stopped by the knock at his door.

He panics, throwing his clothes back on and trying to cool down. He was not masturbating. He definitely was not masturbating.

When he opens the door, he is greeted by a cruel joke.

“Hi, Father, is now a bad time?” you greet.

“No,” he answers. “No, of course not. Can I help you?”

“My aunt had some things to drop off for the fundraiser, so she thought I could bring them by tonight,” you explain, gesturing to the bundle of blankets in your arms. “I wasn’t quite sure where to leave them. I would have just left them outside the door, but it looks like it’s going to rain.”

Sure enough, there is a crack of thunder before the sky opens.

“Come in.” He grabs your arm, pulling you inside before he has the chance to see what you look like in the rain. He takes the blankets from you, taking a moment to admire your aunt’s talent and kindness before he turns to you. “It seems like you’re going to be here a while.”

“It does,” you answer, not wanting to push back, though you know you should. “So, Father, what were you doing before I got here?”

He stills, not able to think of a lie fast enough.

“Oh? Were you doing something unholy?” You stand behind him, your fingers toying with his collar. “It’s a good thing I came when I did. Would hate for you to fall into sin.”

Spencer can’t speak. He feels like he’s in a dream he never wants to wake up from. 

“Tell me, Father, what were you doing before I came?”

“I-uh-I was touching myself,” he admits.

You purse your lips in faux disappointment. Tugging on his collar, you bring him closer. “I don’t believe you.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you. Such a good priest would never touch himself.”

“I was!” He’s not quite sure why he needs you to believe him when moments ago he would have died of embarrassment if someone had found out.

“Show me.”

He gasps at your boldness.

“I said, show me, Father,” you order, pushing him onto the couch.

He nods, sliding off his pants before holding his cock through his underwear, like he had before you arrived. You sit on the table, watching him intently.

“Is that all?”

“It’s all I had time for.”

Your legs open, bring Spencer’s attention to your lavender panties. “Do these look familiar?” He tries to stutter out a response, but you laugh, cutting him off. “I could feel you staring.” You reach under your dress, slipping your panties off before tossing them to him. 

He examines them. His shy demeanor gone. “Seems like I’m not the only sinner here.” He holds the fabric in front of her. “Care to explain what caused this?”

You fall to your knees. “Forgive me, Father.”

“You’ll need to serve your penance first.”

“What is it?” you ask, tugging at the waistband of his underwear.

“Dress off,” he orders before undressing himself. Before you can kneel again, he grabs your arm, pulling you through the rectory and into the church. Your eyes grow wide. “If you are going to lust during mass-after a priest no less-you are getting fucked in the church.”

His newfound confidence goes straight to your core, causing you to close your legs. Father gives you a look of disapproval, but he decides he’ll deal with that later.

“Where would be the best place to fuck you? Should I take you in your pew, so that every time you sit there you will remember to be a good girl? How about my chair, so that every time I sit down, you’ll remember riding my cock? It almost seems to obvious to spread you over the altar,” he muses. “Though, I’m sure you’ll be back again. We’ll have time to do everything, won’t we?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good girl. Show me where you want to receive your penance.”

You pause for a moment, glancing around the church before settling on a spot. Despite the church being empty, you feel incredibly self-conscious as you stand completely naked. Father Reid, however, calmly walks through the church. If his cock wasn’t standing, you would think he was completely uninterested in the scene. 

You decide on the altar. Just as you are about to sit on it, Father Reid stops you. “Bend over,” he orders, though he barely gives you time to process his words before he turns you around and pushes you down onto the altar himself. You yelp at the feeling of the cold marble on your burning skin. 

“Before I can fuck the sin out of you, I need to punish you, don’t I?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Do you know which commandments you broke?”

“No, Father.”

“Of course you don’t. Number six ‘Thou shall not commit adultery’,” he recites, “and number nine ‘thou shall not covet his neighbor’s wife’.” He rubs your ass, getting you excited for what is to come. “So, I think it’s only fair that I give you six spankings for the first commandment and nine for the second. How many is that?”

“Fifteen,” you answer.

“Good girl,” he responds before bringing his hand down. The sound reverbates throughout the sanctuary as prayers had only hours earlier. With each hit, you feel yourself fall more and more into him until the fifteenth spank when you are completely at his mercy. 

He lifts you so that you can sit on the altar. 

“Please, Father,” you breathe. “I need you.”

“Oh, I know you do.” He swipes his fingers through your slick. “I seems like you haven’t learned any self control.”

“Fuck it into me then.”

He laughs. “Patience, (Y/N). If I just give you what you want, how will you learn your lesson?” He steps away from the atlar. “Lay down.”

You comply, no longer able to see him.

“Close your eyes.”

Again, you comply without questioning. You hear his footsteps echo throughout the building. You aren’t sure what he’s planning, and you begin to worry that he’s just going to leave you like this.

Until you feel a hot liquid drip onto you.

You shriek and open your eyes. Father Reid just shakes his head, letting the candle in his hand continue to drip. “Don’t think I didn’t see you eye these candles during mass. Tell me, is this what you wanted?”

“Yes, Father,” you moan. With his free hand, he smears the wax around your torso, up to your breasts. A wax covered hand flicks your nipple. You moan at the sensation. “Father.”

That seems to be enough for him to break. He sets the candle down before he pulls you further down the altar by your hips. “I’m going to fuck you until you see God,” he promises. That is all the warning he gives before pushing his cock into you. He brings his hand to your clit, rubbing and flicking it in the perfect way.

You hadn’t expected to finish so fast. You hadn’t expected him to be so good.

“Fuck, Father, I’m close.”

He doesn’t let up. “Go ahead.” He leans closer to you, groaning in your ear. “Let go.”

You rut your hips against him as you ride out your high. As you tighten around him, he pulls out, jerking himself a few times before he spills himself onto your stomach. In a lustful daze, you swipe your fingers through it before bringing them to your mouth. “Thank you, Father,” you moan.

He helps you off the altar. “I look forward to your next confession.”

[soleilnomoon]

Hi! I really like your writing! I hope you don't mind writing my first request from you 😅 I want a scenario for Sabo having a crush or falling in love with a member of the strawhat pirates🏴‍☠️☠️🦁 please and Thank you! Please keep up with the good hard work! You have my support!😊

hiiii (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡ you’re so sweet, i’m glad you like my writing! also i love that you requested sabo, he’s the best idc what anyone says *biased* also omg thank you so much, i will def do my best to keep consistent to say the least lmao <3 anyway, i hope you enjoy :)

885 words, fem reader, sfw, something light, no (real) angst i promise; sabo is bad at emotions, ok, let him live

life has been relatively straight-forward for him; his goals have always been clear, his assessment of people concise and accurate, he’s kept himself in a box of sorts in order to hide certain parts of himself from his fellow revolutionaries. it’s dangerous work, made even more dangerous by the fact that he’s reunited with his younger brother after twelve years of being apart. weaknesses can be exploited and he hopes that luffy is the only weakness he’ll have moving forward; he can manage that — or, that’s what he tells himself before meeting you.

dressrosa is in shambles, but the people are elated regardless. being free from doflamingo and his wretched family’s oppressive reign has brought about a lightness to the people, especially with the assistance of the revolutionary army in handling some of the criminals who try to escape. sabo decides to spend a few extra days in the country, wanting to make sure he ties up all of his loose ends before leaving. koala insists on staying, but he manages to convince her to leave him behind — if too many of them are congregated together in one place, it’ll put a giant target on their backs.

and while koala attempts to refute his argument, sabo gives her a look that informs her that he’s done with the conversation entirely.

because luffy is still resting, you decide to head into town to purchase a few things. it’s on your short excursion that you run into sabo — bump into him, literally. his body is firm and sturdy, so you actually stumble but he catches you before you fall. you steady yourself and apologize profusely.

“sorry, i’m a little clumsy when i’m hungry,” you offer lamely, cheeks flushing lightly under his scrutinizing gaze. 

“you’re a part of luffy’s crew,” he says in response, and you nod, not feeling the need to hide it; you’re proud to be a straw hat, and since the townspeople weren’t actively chasing you down, you don’t see a reason to not reveal that truth. 

sabo extends a gloved hand outward and you shake it, a small smile tugging on your lips. 

he introduces himself as luffy’s older brother, which shocks you, as you only thought he had the one brother. sabo, noticing your confusion, laughs softly and walks with you as you shop. for some reason, there’s a magnetic aura about you and he can’t seem to leave your side. the way you talk, the way you laugh at things freely, the animated way you move about. it’s all very interesting to him, which should have been the first warning, but he lives life dangerously, and the heart wants what the heart wants after all.

you’re surprised that someone as important as him is still hanging around, but you don’t question it openly, instead enjoying the time he’s spending with you. sabo is much more worldly than you’ll ever be, refined, with a deadly gracefulness that you should be wary of, but you’re not. if anything, you feel safe around him. a fact that unnerves you, but you push that thought to the back of your mind so you can properly ignore it.

he finds every excuse to hang around you, steals you away from the remnants of your crew to show you various spots around the island that he thinks you might find interesting. there’s a hint of childishness in his excitement, one that you can’t help but find sweet and charming; when he catches you watching him, it throws him off, and he stumbles over his words for the first time in a long time, until you place a hand on top of his and tell him to relax and laughing once you see his gaze soften.

on your last day in dressrosa, he comes by early to see you off, asks you to walk with him for a bit, so you oblige without hesitation. he seems a little nervous and actually can’t find the words to say; you tilt your head, watching him, amusement growing with each passing second. before long, you finally say, “i think i understand.”

blinking repeatedly, sabo’s eyes narrow a bit, mouth parting to ask you several questions at once, but you don’t give him the opportunity. you take a few steps forward, lean up and kiss him. whatever he wanted to say, whatever he was thinking previously, dissipates almost immediately. if he wasn’t so sure that he was already awake, he’d think this was a dream. but, rather than lose his nerve, sabo pulls you closer to him and returns your kiss with one that he hopes will convey just a bit of what he feels. you kiss him until you can’t breathe, and then kiss him again. when you finally pull apart, you pat his chest gently, and press your lips to his ear.

“this isn’t goodbye,” you say a little softly, a bit melancholic, “so you better not forget me.”

he laughs at that, head turning to kiss you again, lips moving as he makes a promise to never forget you, no matter how long you spend apart. and, even though you know there is a possibility you might never see him again, you hold that promise in your heart and tuck it away safely for the day you reunite with him.

[4dtk]

warnings: DARK CONTENT, priest!geto, dom!geto, afab!reader, religious themes used in inappropriate ways, reader is legal!!!!! even if she calls her mother ‘mommy’ (bc i do and i’m 20...) suggestive, not smut, sexual tension(???), bit of dry humping/grinding, reader is a virgin and inexperienced, you touch his dick for a moment yes, and yes i am catholic

tags: @multistan-247, @wh0reforlevi

a/n: i just wanted to say how much i love this drawing of geto so much. it’s not the full thing ofc, but the whole composition and symbolism is so good lol

nudging your side, your mother asks you to pay attention to the final blessing, being that your head was the odd one out out of the clasped hands and bowing heads. when the pastor was in presence, silence was the only thing reverberating off the walls of marble, but you? there was someone else that you’d rather look for.

it was impossible to keep your jitters down as your hand makes the sign of the cross — a routine that you didn’t think twice of — before your heart draws you to something, or someone, that you shouldn’t make part of your routine too often. the irony makes your head spin, the sudden movement of the congregation to the chatter of your younger brother only adding to the chaos.

and just like that, God’s blessing of a man manages to come into view, father geto who meets your eyes on the other side through the throngs of people exiting the main church hall. his hair falls over the side of his face like always, half of his long hair pulled back into a bun while the other half flowed freely. and just like always, there’s the gentle, yet all-knowing smile he offers.

father geto, despite being a younger priest, had managed to capture the hearts of many with his sermons. from the older churchgoers who always flocked to him to just chat about anything, to the younger children who wished to grow up to be like him. he was a dream all packed into one.

“i’m… going to ask father geto a question, is that okay, mommy?” your words trail off, afraid that she’ll say again? but with your sibling throwing a fit about his hunger, she hardly notices how your eyes were locked on the vicar. your mother simply nods, calling out to your father who was just too preoccupied with the church’s weekly pamphlet.

keeping your strides measured and collected seemed like the hardest thing in the world, each fall of your foot onto concrete sounding like the bell they ring five minutes before mass. it seems like he’s already waiting for you with fingers curling in and out of his palm in nervousness, unbeknownst to you.

soon your feet take you to geto, who doesn’t even wait for your first touch. under the guise of blessing a rosary, his larger hand holds yours where skin burned like purgatory and you couldn’t deny the comfort of his grasp. no one seems to notice as he tugs you closer and closer that you feel like your lips could—

“another question, my child?” geto teases the name when you were anything but. you were someone fully capable of making decisions, living your own life, and yet you choose to look to him for guidance and advice.

if he asked you to defy religion, you’re certain you’d do it. “ask away, don’t worry.”

gulping, your mouth runs dry, but at least you still remember the things you wanted to enquire about — they weren’t entirely thought up to chat the young, dashing priest up, but knowing father geto’s long-windedness, you could at least spend a bit of time with him. he takes a step back to your dismay, but the quick flicker of his eye to the many people still leaving tells you he wants to be safe.

“i just, wanted to know, father geto, uhm— about the church and their view on tattoos?” he nods encouragingly, the pats on your hand making you lose your train of thought for a second. it’s like a sanctuary, his warm hand, both from the freezing air-conditioning and suffocating Christians.

“my mom has always taught me that our bodies are temples, clean and respectable that we should reject any ink on our skin. is— not even a small, meaningful tattoo is allowed?”

geto gets it, and the way his mind immediately conjures up visions of your body full of tattoos and art is unfavourable for a priest. his faith wavers, but it’s only inevitable when a pretty thing like you is paired with tattoos. he wondered what his art would look like on you.

granted, geto’s little daydream is cut short by your finger tracing over his skin. it tests him, because if you’re doing that, who knows where else can your tender touch go?

it’s like the both of you can’t help but hold your breath, staring into his eyes that swirl with something you couldn’t understand while he takes in your features, strikingly stunning that God only allows him to see them once in a week. you hear him before you hear yourself.

“it’s, a confusing argument, sweetheart.” your eyes widen a little, although a small smile is barely contained. “why don’t we talk somewhere where we don’t have conventionalists breathing down our necks, hm?” the confused, yet excited expression on your face makes the vicar coo inwardly, not before spotting your family approaching as an excuse forms in his mind.

“w—”

“ah, good evening, good evening. your daughter here was just asking a question, weren’t you?” nodding, your mouth jumps at the need to not mention a single thing, but he understands perfectly. “she was just asking if she could request for a confession. well, it’s... awfully late and they’re usually done before—”

your mother interrupts by smacking you gently on the shoulder, her eyes telling of a lecture saved for the confines of your home for bothering such a sweet, pleasant priest for a confession. you can already hear her voice droning on and on: ‘whatever confession you have can wait. we do not bother the pastors.’

his considerate, yet passionate presence seems to serve him well, though, charming your family through and through that your mother immediately recoils at his gentle objection, “no, no, no worries mrs. (l/n). why don’t you head on down first and she’ll be with you soon.”

it feels like there’s something in father geto’s voice that they instantly obey with goodbyes while you only look to him for whatever’s next. were you really going to have a confession now (at least he didn’t sell you out)? were you...

“now, tattoos, was it sweetheart?”

your breath catches in your throat at the name, dripping with intent and well-disguised lust that could be passed off as reverence. a small prompt is muttered through geto’s lips, the intoxicating touch of his hand leaving you way too soon. he leads you back into the church hall where the confessionals stood, noting how there aren’t that many people in the pews.

fire crackles and stained glass windows boasts their artwork with the help of the moonlight. you feel like christine daae being led by the phantom, someone of mystery and allure, surprise evident, however, when you walk right past the booths and the altar. father geto leads you straight into the priests’ offices, only urging you on with the same smile. if anyone sees you, they don’t say anything.

geto is able to pick up the faint chatter of the pastor who’s just finished the evening mass from earlier, manoeuvring you easily past the doors of other offices and with a tug, you’re in the room, taking in the various books that decorate his bookshelf, along with his simple set-up. a click and a groan are what causes you to glance back, however, a stupefied expression stretching across your features. fabric meets the wooden floors, just like your jaw.

“f-father?” your timid call was all you could muster, shameless in how your eyes travel over his broad shoulders and the long hair that cascades down. with the robe forgotten on the floor, you simply take in his tainted, pale skin that would no doubt give your mother a migraine.

his back contained a beautiful back piece, a dragon that travel in loops with insane details and flowers to match by the side. occupying his shoulders and down his arms are other pieces, traditional oriental designs of clouds and winged birds. one step, two step, three, you slowly make your way to him, hands itching to touch him.

“wow...” your awe is adorable to geto that he wants to keep it all for himself, enjoying how your fingers trace over the lines and colours and details. he’s certain he shivers a few times under your touch, reminiscing on the times he would twitch under the tattoo gun. yours is lighter and sweeter, though, and geto nearly curses himself out outwardly at how your hands would feel on him.

geto allows indulgence just this once, head fixed on the crucifix just above his door like a plea before his eyes close, the blankness of his mind slowly filling up with your dainty, soft hands travelling over his used body, maybe even his cock. footsteps outside snap him out of it.

“so? what d’ya say?” another squeak escapes you when he finally turns around, coming face to face with his front that is littered with even more tattoos that you make another sound, akin to a whimper. “you like it, doll?”

father geto fully understood the weight of his name-calling, not missing the way your eyes blink aggressively or the way your chest moves quickly. he’s observant, even more so when you take in his body under the tattoos. from arms to pecs to torso, geto is ripped, giving the tattoos more depth and dimension more than you liked, and yet, you couldn’t complain, not when the priest pulled it off so well.

nodding, you bite your lip excitedly and smile into it but soon your expression falls. “i love it, and i honestly want tattoos to cover my body like yours do, father.”

he sputters, “so your talk about your small, meaningful tattoo was bullcrap?”

you pout, “you’re not one to talk, father geto.”

geto huffs, shrugging off your attempt at joking as an idea pops up. “want to touch more?”

“i— you— are you sure that’s n-not...” your eyes flit between his and the door behind, which you’re sure he’s secured with a click earlier on. the pastor wraps a hand around your wrist, a clear lilt along with amusement lingered in his voice. “where do you want to touch me? here?”

geto moves your hand to his bicep where your hand gently goes over the muscles that reside there. hell is hot for the both of you, but temptation brings you back in each time when he hangs over your lips, taunting and teasing. his eyes enjoy the sight of you as a smirk appears.

“here?” next, his pecs, which feels awfully soft. you can feel his heart through your skin as if it’s asking you to hear its sins. can you feel the blood coursing through my veins? it’s dirtied now because of you, you minx, and yet i can’t say no. you’re awfully adorable, and i want to ruin every part of you.

“or maybe... here?” geto can tell you like this one, feeling the ridges and dips of his six-pack that you gasp again. this one must be new, feeling a roughness that’s mostly recovered, albeit not fully. “i got this one just for you, princess.”

“h-huh, me? why?”

the father uses a free hand to caress your face, “just because. tell me, (y/n), are you okay with this?”

you giggle, “it’s you i’m more worried about, father.”

“such a caring little doll. i’ll be fine, just—” ding! a notification from your family’s group chat that mentions how your baby brother suddenly got hungry, bringing him to the nearest mall to grab a bite. peeking over, his heart settles again knowing you’ll be in his care soon, “well, that’s taken care of.”

the both of you exchange a smile, your mischievous grin widening when geto’s hand moves again, and you have to take in another deep breath when it reaches his underwear and over his bulge.

“what about... here?” geto’s confidence is admirable, but with a little squeeze of his cock, the priest falls apart by your hand. his deep, guttural groan goes straight to your core, and the confidence (more like neediness) seemed to be passed down to you who backs him up into the spacious armchair. settling onto him, you start to grind your throbbing clit onto him, desperate to catch the same feeling you experimented with at home.

“who knew my little sweetheart was such a filthy slut?”

“’m not, father geto,” there’s a pout in your voice, hips now moving at a slower pace, “haven’t even tried touching myself, but yesterday i did. i tried because i knew you would be at the evening mass today.”

geto moans softly at the thought of you looking frustrated and teary-eyed, while you ground your cunt into your fingers or pillow with a need for an orgasm, possibly even crying out his name in the sheets. the hands that were hovering over your skin now fully encourage your hips to their initial pace as he takes in your face which is contorted into pleasure. “so you’re a virgin?”

nodding, you press your body deeper onto his, hips moving on their own. never stopping, because you heard about the clit that most people get that rush from. you heard about stimulating it, whether it’s with an object or your hands, it’ll feel good.

“fuck, you’re going to be the death of me. c’mon, stop for a sec.” geto presses a quick kiss to your puffed-out cheek, expression now serious.

“do you trust me, princess?” instant nod. “good. then, let me take care of you like you deserve. would you want that?” father geto doesn’t let you answer; with one press of his thumb to your clothed clit, you let out a moan you didn’t even know had in you, completely and utterly succumbing to holy hands that chose to sin because of you.

and you, geto will taint and mould as to how he likes it. you’re his favourite, after all.

next

[nerdzzone]

Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

One of the challenges of sharing custody is sharing holidays which is something that Whitney Taylor found herself struggling with in the December of 2019. The prospect of spending Christmas without her son was dismaying, but the complications that come with the alternative might be even harder to face.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part One

----

Part Two

25.12.19

When I woke up in the morning, it took me a moment to figure out where I was and why the pillow my head was resting on was so hard and warm. Once I'd figured it out - that my head was not actually on a pillow, but on Chris' chest - I almost had to roll my eyes. Of course it was. Of course we'd ended up all cuddled together. Because life was just one big romantic comedy, right?

I sighed quietly, silently praying that Chris wasn't awake yet as I slowly slid myself away from him. He didn't stir until I was sitting on the edge of the bed so I was hopeful that he hadn't been aware of the position we were in.

"G'morning," he greeted me, rubbing his eyes as the sound of excited children echoed down the hallway. "What time is it?"

I quickly checked my phone on the nightstand before answering.

"Only seven o'clock," I told him before yawning. "But it sounds like everyone is up and bouncing off the walls already."

"I'm not surprised," Chris smiled. "They've probably torn into all the presents by now."

I laughed and nodded my head, knowing it was a good possibility.

"It probably wasn't super smart to leave Scott out there guarding them by himself," I pointed out. "Not after he spent half the night shaking his own presents trying to guess what was inside."

"Oh, it definitely wasn't," Chris agreed. "He was always the one who ruined things by finding his presents early and getting us all in trouble."

"Well, I should go see what they're up to or if anything can be salvaged," I smiled as I pulled a sweater on over my pyjamas. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be out in a minute," he assured me. I headed to the door, but stopped when I heard his voice again. "Hey, Whitney? Merry Christmas."

I smiled even wider as that happy, familiar Christmas morning feeling washed over me.

"Merry Christmas, Chris."

With that, I hurried out the door, trying not to focus too much on how content I felt and how right it seemed to wake up in his arms on Christmas morning.

-

When I got to the kitchen, I was surprised to see that everyone else was already awake, despite how early it was.

"Good morning," Lisa greeted me as I wandered into the kitchen where all the adults were congregating. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, everyone," I smiled before they all repeated it back to me. "Did I miss all the fun?"

"No, of course not," Carly assured me. "We've managed to keep them away from the presents so far, but I'm not sure how much longer we can hold them off."

"We're still waiting for Chris though," Scott pointed out as I grabbed a clean mug and headed to the fresh pot of coffee on the counter. "Have you seen him? He disappeared not long after we went to bed and never came back."

"Oh, yeah, he's in his room," I answered mindlessly as I filled my mug. "We ended up sleeping together last night."

I heard Scott almost choke on his coffee and noticed the sudden silence in the room, but it wasn't until Lisa spoke that I realized what I'd said.

"Whitney, honey," she said, speaking softly. "What do you mean?"

"Oh my god, no! Not like that!" I rushed to explain as my cheeks grew hot. "We literally slept together, like as in slept next to each other. Chris came into his room looking for a sweater because he was cold and had given away all his spare blankets so I offered for him to share the bed with me. That's all, I swear."

There were knowing smiles amongst the group and I wasn't entirely sure that they all believed me which made things even more embarrassing as I wouldn't want them to think I'd talk so candidly about things like that with Chris' mother of all people. Before I had a chance to continue desperately defending myself though, a voice from the doorway interrupted.

"What are you swearing about?" He asked, leaning against the doorway. "Why do I feel like I missed something good?"

Again, I was ready to explain, but someone beat me to it.

"Whitney was just giving us the update," Scott informed his older brother as he matched his smirk. "She was telling us how you two slept together."

Chris' eyebrows knitted together in confusion for a moment before he relaxed and let out a chuckle.

"Well, that's not exactly how I would have phrased it," he informed the group with a shrug. "But I suppose it is accurate. We slept and we were together."

"I just misspoke," I groaned. "I haven't had any coffee yet, I wasn't thinking clearly."

"A little Freudian slip?" Carly suggested as she joined in on the teasing, but I simply rolled my eyes.

"Chris probably wishes that was a peak into my subconscious desires, but I'm afraid not. Just a clear sign that I am not a morning person."

"I think we'll all need plenty of coffee to deal with the energy in that living room," Lisa interjected, putting an end to the discussion despite Chris' protests of my claim. "But we should probably go and join them before they open all the presents, whether they belong to them or not."

We all murmured in agreement and everyone topped up whatever beverage they were drinking before we headed to the living room to start the Christmas fun.

-

"Mama!" Grayson shouted as we entered the room. "Look! Santa came!"

"Of course he did," I smiled at the children. "You've all been good this year so it's no surprise."

They all nodded and agreed enthusiastically except Ethan who, now that he was almost ten, had figured out the truth. He was a good kid though and a loving older brother so he kept the secret, quietly watching them with a knowing smile now that he was finally in on the joke with the adults.

"Can we open them?" Stella asked, bouncing up and down from holding in her excitement. "We've been waiting for so long!"

"I wouldn't say so long," Scott chuckled. "Since it's not even eight o'clock in the morning yet!"

"But, yes, you can open them," Carly informed her children. "Just be careful and don't rush."

There was a flurry of activity as the kids dove into the presents, organizing whose was whose before settling down next to their little piles. I took a step back and sat on the couch next to Lisa, letting Chris sit on the floor behind Grayson. It was his Christmas after all and it felt right that he should be the one helping him open presents. Plus, this way I got a perfect view of the joyful grin that was plastered on his face. A grin that was perfectly replicated by his father behind him making my heart clench at the sight of them together like this.

I watched from my spot on the couch as the gifts were opened one by one and soaked in every giggle and shriek of glee from the children. Grayson was on top of the world and so grateful for each and every gift, it was delightful to see. Given our financial security, especially for Chris, it would have been easy to spoil him, but it made me incredibly proud to see how gracious he was.

However, one of the last gifts he wasn't so grateful to receive. It was from me and I knew there was a chance it wouldn't be his favourite, but his response was far worse than I could have imagined.

It was a decent sized box and he tore off the wrapping paper eagerly, intrigued by what could be inside. When he revealed that it was a foot and a half tall electronic T-Rex, his first reaction was one of amazement.

"Wow! A dinosaur!"

"Yeah," I smiled. "Take him out and see what he can do."

Chris set to work helping Grayson open the box before glancing up at me.

"Does he need batteries?"

"I put some in already," I assured him. "I knew he'd want to see it right away so I thought it would be easier."

He nodded as Grayson placed the giant T-Rex on the floor and looked at me expectantly.

"There's a button on his back, press it."

Everyone watched as he poked around until he got the right spot and the dinosaur came to life. He roared and his head moved around, but as the older kids cheered and clapped, Grayson burst into tears.

"Oh, dear..." Lisa smiled as she watched her grandson leap into his father's arms.

Everyone was chuckling at his dramatic reaction as Grayson buried his face in Chris' neck.

"Awe, buddy, I'm sorry!" I apologized. "Did it scare you?"

"Yes! He's scary!" Grayson's response was muffled by Chris' body and hard to understand through his sobs. "I don't wike it, Mama!"

I smiled at the little speech impediment that he inherited from his father - much like the one his cousin, Miles, had - but I did feel bad for how genuinely afraid he was.

"I'm sorry, baby. We can take the batteries out, okay? Then he won't be able to move."

The dinosaur had stopped moving on his own before I spoke and Grayson moved his head from where he was hiding his face, nodding as he did so.

"Yes, please."

"I bought it a while ago, thinking it was the perfect gift and then last week, he suddenly decided that T-Rexes were mean and I thought it might not go down so well," I admitted to the adults as I stretched forward to pick up the dinosaur and take the batteries out. "It's such a shame though, I think he's adorable. If you press the button on his tail, a little song plays and he does a little wiggle dance."

Chris smirked at me as he rubbed our still sniffling son's back.

"Why don't you take him home? Sounds like you might enjoy playing with him when Grayson isn't around."

He was making fun of me, I knew he was, but I didn't take the bait.

"You know what? I might just do that."

Chris opened his mouth to most likely make another teasing comment, but Ethan interrupted him.

"If Grayson doesn't want the T-Rex, can I have it?"

"I think you got enough new toys this morning," Ethan's dad warned him. "Don't be greedy."

"We'll let Grayson keep him for now," Chris agreed. "He might get used to him after a while if he plays with him without the batteries."

I passed the toy in question back to Chris and Grayson cowered away, whimpering against his dad's chest.

"Just leave it for now," I suggested. "We can try it again later when the initial shock has worn off."

Chris nodded and put the dinosaur behind his back and out of sight.

-

The rest of the gift opening went by smoothly and no more children were traumatized. Once every gift that was under the tree had been opened, we left the kids to test out their new things while the adults headed to the kitchen to start making breakfast. It was quickly decided that pancakes would be the easiest thing to mass produce for our large group of hungry people and while Lisa, Carly and I started mixing up a few bowls of batter, Chris and Scott whipped out the orange juice and champagne for mimosas.

An hour later everyone was very full and we were two bottles of champagne down.

"So, Whitney," Scott started as he loaded up the dishwasher. "Are you staying here tonight too or are you planning on making us spend half the day shovelling the driveway for you?"

His tone was teasing, but as I looked out the window at the deep blanket of snow that covered the ground outside, I was torn. I didn't want to outstay my welcome by staying another night, but I also didn't want to make the Evans family spend their entire Christmas day shovelling snow and there was no way that I'd be able to do it by myself.

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I wasn't planning on staying another night, but it does look like there's a lot of snow out there..."

"Just stay," Chris shrugged. "Even if we can get your car down the driveway, the roads are probably terrible."

"There's no need for you to rush off," Lisa agreed. "Stay another night and then you can just relax and enjoy the day."

"And you can drink if you're not driving home," Scott pointed out with a grin. "Chris and I stocked up on wine, beer, whiskey and gin, these mimosas were just the start of the party."

I couldn't help, but laugh at Scott's reasoning as I nodded my head.

"Alright, I'll stay. If you really don't mind, Chris?"

"Of course not," Chris assured me. "We're happy to have you."

"Great!" Scott grinned. "I'm glad that's settled, I think this calls for another round of drinks!"

Chris cheered and jumped up to help him while the rest of us smiled and shook our heads at their antics.

-

The day was spent soaking in quality family time, watching the kids enjoy their new toys and indulging in lots of food and drink. We called Chris' dad and my parents and even had an unexpected phone call from my Uncle Rob. He spent more time talking to Chris than me, his own niece, but it was nice to hear his voice even if he made sure to get a dig in about me confessing my supposedly obvious feelings to Chris.

Sitting around the table, eating a delicious meal with Chris' loving and welcoming family was quite a contrast to how I expected to spend the day and I was very grateful that Chris had included me. Grayson seemed to appreciate it too and he made his enjoyment clear as we tucked him into bed once all the fun and feasting was done.

Chris sat on the floor leaning against Grayson's nightstand, reading him his favourite bedtime story while I laid on the bed next to him and rubbed his back. He was drifting off by the time the story was finished, but he was fighting it desperately as he spoke again.

"I'm happy, Mama," he told us, his words muffled as he nuzzled into his pillow.

Chris put his hand over his heart as he mouthed an 'awe' at me and I smiled.

"You're happy?" I clarified quietly, my smile growing as he nodded. "I'm glad to hear that, baby."

"I like that you're here," he mumbled. "Daddy should come home with us too."

My heart clenched at that request as my smile faltered. I knew it was only a matter of time until Grayson paid more attention to the fact that his time was divided between two homes, but I wasn't ready to deal with it just yet.

"Maybe Daddy could come for a sleepover sometime," I suggested, stroking his hair back out of his face, but that wasn't all he wanted.

"He should come all the time."

I was never great at hiding my emotions and from the way Chris was watching me, I assumed my distress at Grayson's comments was written all over my face and I was grateful when he jumped into the conversation.

"But what about Dodger?"

Dodger's ears perked up from his spot at the end of the bed, but he settled again when he realized that Chris wasn't calling for him.

"He can come too," was Grayson's answer to that dilemma, but Chris had a response at the ready.

"C'mon, you think Dodger would have enough space in your Ma's apartment?" He asked. "He needs a big house like this to run around in!"

So then we could all just stay here would be the logical comeback to that, but it seemed our sleepy little guy was too tuckered out from the excitement to argue. He let out a little sigh of defeat, but said no more. We stayed quiet for a few minutes until his breathing shifted and he was soundly asleep.

Chris offered me his hand to help me climb over Grayson without waking him up and, after whispering a quiet request to Dodger to keep our boy safe, he led me out of the room.

"You okay?"

The question came as soon as Grayson's door was pulled to and we were in the hallway.

"Yeah, of course," I nodded, forcing a smile. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Chris shot me a look that clearly showed his disbelief.

"You looked pretty downhearted in there."

"I just worry," I shrugged. "I don't want our situation to upset him and I know he's going to notice it more as he gets older."

"He'll be fine," Chris assured me, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder comfortingly. "He's got so much love in his life, he won't even notice that his family is a little different."

I wasn't convinced. He was obviously already noticing or he wouldn't have questioned it only moments before. I didn't want to start such a delicate, potentially tense conversation at the end of such a happy day though so I forced a more convincing smile onto my face.

"You're right," I agreed. "But I wouldn't be a mom if I didn't worry."

"Well, there's no time for worryin' on Christmas!" Chris claimed, followed by a grin as he dragged me off towards the kitchen. "What can I get you? Another wine? Maybe some gin? I might have some tequila kickin' around here somewhere..."

"No! No tequila!" I laughed. "Gin would be great, thanks."

Chris nodded and set to work mixing our beverages for the evening before we went to the living room to rejoin his family and I did my best to push any worries about letting Grayson down out of my mind.

-

After the kids were all in bed, the rest of the evening was spent playing games and sharing drinks. It was heartwarming, wholesome family fun and I was so glad that Scott had encouraged me to stay as the thought of rushing home to my cold, empty apartment wasn't at all appealing.

The only strange thing about the evening was Chris. We were teamed up for most of the games and it was quite amazing how in tune with each other we were as we won everything by a landslide. We'd been friends for a long time and knew each other very well so it was unsurprising to me that we had so much success, but the teasing comments that came from a rather drunk Scott implied other reasons than friendship for our harmony. I scoffed and rolled my eyes every time he cracked a joke about us, but Chris seemed to love it. He was a few drinks in and probably just feeling a little goofy, but the grin on his face after every suggestive comment sparked an odd feeling in my stomach.

It was around ten o'clock when everyone except Chris, Scott and I decided to go to bed. We bid them goodnight and Chris went to top up our drinks before settling back onto the couch beside me. By this time, I was definitely feeling it. I wasn't drunk, but I knew this drink would have to be my last as the flush of my cheeks and the happy, fuzzy feeling in my brain was telling me that it was time to wind it down for the night.

However, as Chris handed me another gin and soda, settled on the couch next to me, placed his drink on the end table beside him and pulled my feet into his lap, my mind suddenly felt surprisingly sharp.

"What are you doing?" I asked, a giggle slipping from my lips.

"Releasing some tension."

As he answered, he began a slow massage of my left foot and I couldn't help, but smile at how wonderful it felt.

"Releasing?" Scott snorted a laugh. "Sure, a foot rub is known for getting rid of tension, not making it worse."

Chris smirked at what Scott was insinuating, but seemed unbothered by it.

"Don't be jealous," he teased, but now it was my turn to smirk.

"Of what?" I questioned. "This foot rub? It's not that great, Scott."

Scott laughed as Chris gasped a tad over dramatically.

"Not that great? I offer you a free foot rub and you can't even be fuckin' grateful?"

Chris shook his head, but the smile on his face told me that he wasn't really offended. He did stop massaging my feet though and I whined in protest as he picked up his drink.

"A mediocre foot rub is better than nothing," I pouted. "Keep going."

Chris sipped his whiskey, the smile on his face morphing back into a smirk as he shook his head again, but he did let his hand rest over my ankles and I was happy for even that tiny bit of contact.

Scott changed the subject to some viral video he saw the other day and Chris laughed and chatted along as he absentmindedly let his hand drift up my shin, underneath the loose pyjama pants that I'd changed into shortly after we put Grayson to bed.

My mind was instantly taken back to another time when we'd shared such gentle touches. A time when his lips followed his fingers as they traced kisses up from my ankle all the way to the lacy edge of my underwear. A time when he'd then proceeded to pull that underwear off with his teeth before returning his face back to a very sensitive area.

"Whitney, have you seen it?"

Scott's question snapped me out of my racy daydream. I felt my cheeks flush with colour as I forced my gaze away from Chris' hand over to Scott, reminding myself that even though the look on Chris' face would make it seem otherwise, he couldn't possibly know what I was just thinking of.

"Uh, no, I haven't," I admitted, sipping my drink to try to cool myself down even though it was becoming apparent to me that I needed to slow down my alcohol consumption. "All I seem to watch these days is Paw Patrol."

Chris barked out a laugh and nodded.

"So much Paw Patrol," he agreed. "The kid's obsessed."

"Chase is on the case!" I giggled before changing my voice slightly. "Rubble on the double!"

"Oh my god," Scott laughed, a horrified look on his face. "We need to get you out more."

I shrugged as Chris continued to trace patterns on my shins.

"That's the life of a mom."

"Yeah, but what about when he's with Chris? You must have some sort of life then."

"Scott."

Chris' voice was harsh and warning as what Scott was implying could be taken as offensive, but I wasn't bothered.

"It's fine," I assured him. "I know I'm lame. I don't have much of my own life, I don't really know anyone around here."

"You have Allison," Chris pointed out. "You've mentioned her a lot. She's your friend, right?"

He was referring to my one and only friend in Massachusetts. She was also a photographer and we'd met at a camera store when I first moved here. She'd asked me a question about a new brand of film and we'd ended up having coffee to exchange tips. She realized quickly that I didn't know many people in town and had taken me under her wing.

"She is," I nodded. "But she has three kids of her own and she's married so she doesn't have weeks where she's child free like I do. We hang out when we can, but usually it's with all the kids, not like quality 'girl time'."

"I didn't know that," Chris frowned. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't feel bad for me." I nudged him with my foot. "I have plenty of friends, they're just in LA. I'm happy here."

"I'll take you out for drinks one day," Scott promised. "Even if you're happy, everyone needs to let their hair down a little bit sometimes."

"That would be fun," I smiled, tossing back the last of my drink. "But for now, I think I've let my hair down enough for today. It's time for me to get to bed before all these drinks go to my head."

I slid my feet off of Chris' lap and slowly stood up as he looked up at me.

"Are you cool if I bunk with you again tonight?"

"Of course," I nodded. "Just sneak in quietly if you two stay up too late."

"I'm ready to crash already," Scott informed us. "So, we won't be up much later."

"Okay. Well, goodnight boys," I waved as I headed towards the door. "Thank you for a lovely day."

They chorused a goodnight back to me before I walked down the hall.

-

I was just coming out of the en suite in Chris' bedroom after brushing my teeth when Chris strolled into the room.

"Hey," I smiled. "Ready for bed already?"

"Scott wasn't lying," he returned my smile. "He was half asleep by the time you made it down the hall."

I laughed as I crawled into bed and settled against the pillows.

"Well, it has been a busy day."

Chris agreed as he grabbed his pyjama pants and headed to the bathroom. I picked up my phone from where I left it on the nightstand, turned off the lamp on my side of the bed and answered a few text messages from my family, figuring I may as well wait the few minutes it would take Chris to get ready for bed before I attempted to get any sleep. When Chris reappeared, I locked my phone again, put it back on the nightstand and snuggled down under the blankets, trying not to stare too much at his chiselled torso. He wasted no time turning off the lamp on his side as well before slipping in next to me, shivering dramatically as he pulled the blankets up over his chest.

"It's so freakin' cold tonight."

I snorted a laugh, shaking my head even though I knew he wouldn't be able to see me until our eyes adjusted to the dark.

"Maybe if you put on a shirt you wouldn't feel it so much."

"Honestly," Chris started, the smirk evident in his tone despite his face still being hidden in shadow. "Usually, I just sleep naked so these pants are for your benefit."

I felt my cheeks flush as the words 'then by all means, take them off' were on the tip of my tongue. I forced them out of my mind as a long forgotten tingle rolled through my body and I focused on answering him.

"My point was that a t-shirt would provide you with extra warmth," I explained. "So, your point that you usually wear less clothing makes no sense."

The bed shifted slightly as Chris chuckled.

"Well, I can think of another thing that could provide some extra warmth."

"What?"

I felt my heart rate pick up, the blood rushing through my ears so fast that I hardly heard myself answer him as I wondered if he could possibly be implying what it seemed like he was implying.

"You." His voice was low, the same seductive tone he'd used all those years ago, and I felt my mouth go dry. "Come give me a cuddle."

For a moment, I thought I was a lot drunker than I'd realized and that I was hallucinating or in some kind of lucid dream, but that thought brought me to a different realization.

"Chris!" I whispered, my tone scolding and accusatory. "You're drunk!"

A burst of laughter came from the other side of the bed and I quickly shushed him, knowing Grayson was asleep in the room above us.

"I'm not drunk, I promise," Chris assured me as his raucous laughter came under control. "I just thought it was worth a shot. It's nice to have a little cuddle with a beautiful woman sometimes."

I felt another flush of heat run through me, but I rolled my eyes and, as I had the night before, I took a pillow and placed it between us, drawing a clear line in the sand even if that hadn't worked out so well the last time.

"Goodnight, Chris."

"Goodnight, Whitney."

I rolled over, closed my eyes and tried to sleep.

I did try. I really, really did.

But after almost ten minutes of thoughts whirring through my head, I knew it was hopeless and I turned back to face Chris. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the dark, I could see well enough to know that he was laying on his back so I carefully moved the pillow that I'd placed between us and slowly slid over towards him. I felt him tense so I knew he was awake, but he didn't question what I was doing so I continued until my head was on his chest and my arm was draped over his stomach. He stayed perfectly still, just long enough for me to start second guessing myself before he shifted slightly to put his arm around me.

We stayed like that, holding each other in silence, and I had to admit that Chris was right. It was nice to have someone to cuddle with. The physical contact was filling a hole in my touch-starved heart and I tried not to think about how fleeting of a moment it was or how things would be back to normal in the light of day. There was a strange ache in my heart at that thought and I knew I needed to get out of my head.

"Chris?" My voice was soft, just in case he'd drifted off in the last few minutes, but when he tightened his grip on me, I knew he was still awake. "Thank you for inviting me today."

"Of course." He squeezed a little tighter. "I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner."

"It's fine," I assured him, letting my hand lazily trace patterns on his skin. "You're under no obligation, you're allowed your time with Grayson without me."

"It's not about obligation. I'd never want you to spend Christmas alone even if Grayson wasn't in the picture."

"I was really dreading it."

My admission made me feel vulnerable as I'd spent so long trying to pretend that I wasn't bothered by the idea of a lonely holiday, but Chris didn't seem surprised.

"Really?" He questioned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "The crying onto your steering wheel didn't give that away at all."

"Shut up," I mumbled, turning my face into his chest to hide my smile at his teasing. "I'm just trying to express my gratitude for your kindness."

"No gratitude is needed. It's been my pleasure having you here today and Grayson loved it."

He kissed the top of my head after he'd finished speaking and almost reflexively, I found myself stretching up and placing a soft kiss of my own against his collarbone. It felt intimate and the moment hung heavy between us. It felt right to me, but I knew instantly that I'd crossed a line. A comforting kiss on the top of my head was one thing, but what I'd done, kissing his bare chest, was inappropriate. My cheeks burned as I tilted my head up to look at him, meeting his eyes as they looked down at me. His expression was unreadable so I opened my mouth to apologize only to be completely shocked when he pressed his head forward and his lips against mine.

The shock quickly morphed into a feeling that could only be described as euphoria. There was something distantly familiar about the way his mouth moved on mine, but it felt strange and new as it wasn't exactly as I'd remembered - and I had spent more time than I'd want to admit reliving the last time we'd shared a kiss like this.

It wasn't until he pressed his tongue against my lips, in an attempt to deepen the kiss, that I snapped out of my daze.

"Chris, wait," I breathed out as I pulled away and stared up at him, my cheeks now flushed much more from excitement than embarrassment. "We shouldn't do this."

"Says who?"

The little voice in my head telling me that I'm about to ruin everything that we've worked hard to create. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but as he smirked down at me and licked his lips as if he was preparing for what was to come, I found myself incapable of logic and reason.

"Doesn't matter."

Chris hardly had time to acknowledge my answer before I dove back in for another kiss, moving to a more comfortable position as I straddled his waist.

He completely overwhelmed my senses. The inescapable scent of him surrounding me, the feel of his strong body between my thighs and the soft little sighs of enjoyment that he kept making every time our lips parted for us to take a breath. None of it was doing anything to ease the ache that was growing between my legs and my hands gripped into the sheets where they rested just above his shoulders as I pulled back to look down at him. I needed to see his face to remind myself this was really happening and who it was really happening with as it still felt so unreal.

Chris smiled up at me, his lips looking plumper already, and let his hands settle on my hips to keep me steady.

"You okay?"

I nodded and leaned down to peck his lips again before answering.

"I've never been better."

Chris' smile only widened at that confirmation and he moved his hands down to cup my bum, pressing my hips forward and giving me a moment of friction that I'd been desperately craving. I pressed myself up, pulling my upper body away from him as a gasp fell from my lips and my eyes squeezed shut. I was embarrassingly aroused from a few mere minutes of kisses, but it had been a very long time since I'd had any physical contact with a man and my body was already on fire.

I rocked my hips against the toned muscles of his abdomen, soaking in the pleasure that was radiating through me and I was debating whether it would be rude of me to continue until I reached the release that was quickly building inside me. Clearly, Chris was just as intuitive as I remembered as he let out a groan and effortlessly flipped us over so he was on top.

"Not like that," he smirked. "I've been thinking about this for too long, it's not happening like that."

I felt another flush of embarrassment as he could obviously tell what I'd been thinking about doing, but I nodded in agreement.

"But if this is really happening, we need to be quiet," I reminded him. "Everyone's sleeping."

"They're all upstairs, they won't hear," he assured me. "And Scott's on the other side of the house."

He was right, we'd be fine as long as we kept ourselves under control, but it didn't matter anyway as all my doubts disappeared when his lips pressed against my neck. I let my hands slide around his waist, resting on his toned back while his lips continued their trail down my neck and stretched the neck line of my shirt to expose my shoulder. His lips locked onto one spot just above my collarbone, sucking and nipping until I was sure there would be a bruise there in the morning.

"Chris," I gasped out, digging my fingernails into his back. "Don't leave a mark."

He backed off a bit, kissing gently against the now sensitive skin.

"It'll be easy to hide," he assured me. "And if I remember correctly, you enjoyed a few bites here and there..."

He opened his mouth to dig his teeth into my shoulder and an image flashed into my mind. A memory of me, bent over with Chris' thumb on my clit as the two fingers he had inside me stroked a particularly delicate spot. He'd placed a soft kiss on the cheek of my bum before sinking his teeth into my skin, sending me over the edge.

I couldn't help, but moan from the combination of the memory and the sensation of his teeth in my shoulder as my hips pressed up against his. Chris seemed to be spurred on by that action as he ground his hips against mine and quickly let his hands slide down to the bottom of my shirt. He lifted it up and for a moment I was lost in the bliss of the sensations he was providing, but as my shirt was raised just past my belly button, I froze.

"Wait!"

My voice firm and demanding and he immediately responded, stopping his actions and looking up to meet my eyes.

"What's wrong?"

I bit my bottom lip as I pondered how to voice my concerns. If I didn't say anything, there was a chance that we could get through this without drawing any attention to it, but I couldn't help but think it was better to point it out than have Chris notice on his own.

"I just..." I breathed out, trying to figure out how to articulate my thoughts. "I just look different now."

"What?"

Chris pulled back even further, looking down at me with genuine confusion in his eyes and my cheeks burned as I tried to puzzle out how to explain my feelings in a way that didn't make me look shockingly insecure.

"Since I had Grayson, since the last time we did this," I clarified, my cheeks burning as I brought my flaws to his attention. "I look different. Like, I have stretch marks and my boobs aren't as perky as they used to be."

Even in the dark shadows of the room, I could see Chris' jaw clench as it did when he was annoyed and trying to bite his tongue. Panic flooded through me as I wished I'd kept my mouth shut, but his next words astounded me.

"Get outta here," he huffed. "You think I care about that?"

I dropped my gaze to the tattoos on his chest as I regretted ever opening my mouth.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Lots of men probably would."

Chris moved back, slowly sliding his body down, away from mine and I wanted to scream, I wanted to stop him and hold him against me as long as I could, but I was powerless to do anything, but watch. My heart sank, thinking he was going to roll off of me any minute now, but then he stopped. His face was level with my lower stomach and turned his eyes back towards my face.

"This body," he started, placing a kiss on my stomach. "This stomach, these stretch marks." He kissed the faint lines that were now barely visible on my skin despite how vibrant they were in my mind. Then he continued up, lifting my shirt as he went until it was resting above my breasts, my nipples hard from the chill in the air and the anticipation I was feeling. "These boobs." He kissed and nipped at the delicate skin, tracing all the way along until he captured a nipple in his mouth, teasing it briefly with his tongue. "They changed because you gave me my son, the greatest gift you could have given me. I have nothing, but gratitude for that and you're still the most fuckin' beautiful woman I've ever seen."

He was exaggerating. I knew he was exaggerating. He saw and worked with Hollywood's most elite actresses and models, there was no chance that I was even close to the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. But he managed, again, to push all doubts from my mind as his lips set to work, this time focusing on my left nipple while he shifted his weight and freed a hand to stroke and pinch the right.

They were sensitive, they always had been, and the way that Chris was working them right now was almost too much. My head fell back and my hands dropped to the sheets as I tried to focus on enjoying the sensations and not immediately demanding for Chris to move lower, to give me more, to touch me where I wanted to be touched with increasing need. He was always paying attention though and before I even needed to voice my request, he let his mouth slip from my nipple and trail back down my stomach.

He nipped at the skin just above my pyjama pants before hooking his fingers in the waistband and pulling them down. I tugged my shirt over my head at the same time before laying back against the pillow, completely naked underneath him.

"Beautiful."

He'd muttered the word, almost more to himself than to me, but the sincerity in his voice flooded a new kind of warmth through my body. I tried to push it down, focusing on what we were doing, what this was and all it could be. Because yes, I loved Chris, but this wasn't that. This wasn't making love, this was a simple release of sexual tension. I didn't need my feelings getting in the way and making this complicated or I was going to get myself hurt.

I'd been so lost in my head that I hadn't noticed how my legs had fallen apart for Chris to settle between them or how he'd spread me with his fingers, opening me up for him to enjoy. It wasn't until I felt a slow, gentle lick right over my clit that I snapped back into the moment. With a gasp, my hips pressed up to meet his mouth, trying frantically to keep the friction now that it was finally there.

"Easy," Chris warned me, chuckling as he pulled back slightly, earning a whine from me. "We'll get you there, don't worry."

A feeling of desperation was building up inside of me and as he blew gently on the very sensitive parts of me that were in front of him, I was about ready to start begging.

"Please," I whimpered, moving my hand to his hair in case he got any bright ideas about pulling back any further, but I was relieved when he let out a groan and finally gave up on his teasing.

Suddenly I was aware of nothing, but Chris' mouth on me. My back arched as he licked up from the bottom of my core to the top, swirling his tongue around, exploring every little nook and cranny before settling his focus back on my clit. It was like he'd studied me, like he'd committed our previous brief encounter to memory and remembered exactly what I responded to as he licked and sucked with just the right amount of pressure and speed to have me panting as my grip tightened in his hair.

It had only been moments, but I could already feel the pressure building inside me, bubbling closer towards the surface. Chris, as if sensing this, eased off just slightly to slide his tongue a bit lower, pressing it against my entrance, dipping just barely inside, before replacing it with one of his fingers. I felt myself clench at the sensation, my body desperate for relief, desperate for something more inside me and Chris obliged, adding a second finger almost immediately.

"So wet, baby," he hummed, placing a kiss on the inside of my upper thigh.

I was too wrapped up in my own pleasure to formulate any kind of response, but Chris didn't bother waiting for one anyway before putting his lips back on my clit. The combination of his fingers and his mouth had me seeing stars and another whimpered plea slipped from my lips as he flicked his tongue against me. He was focused and determined, groaning against me after a particularly sharp tug on his hair when he angled his fingers inside me to find that one particular spot that made me see stars.

He stroked it once. Then twice. And on the third that coil that had been tightening inside me snapped. I covered my mouth with my free hand just in time to bite down and muffle the scream that Chris pulled from me as my hips thrust up towards him and I spasmed around his fingers as I fell over the edge.

Chris coaxed me through it, easing his attentions as I came down from the high I was feeling. He slid his fingers out of me, looking up to meet my eyes before licking them clean. I groaned, feeling myself twitch with arousal at the sight despite my heart still racing from the orgasm I had just had. He flashed me a smirk before crawling up my body and pressing his lips against mine again.

I sighed happily into the kiss, letting my hands slide down his back, just teasing the top of his pants as I reluctantly separated our mouths.

"Take these off."

My tone left little room for argument and Chris looked down at me with a smirk.

"Yes, ma'am."

He lifted his body off of mine just long enough for me to shiver from the loss of the warmth he was providing, but he quickly returned once his pants were discarded. He stayed slightly lower when he returned, turning his attention back to my chest, taking my left nipple in his mouth this time and using his hand to tease the other. My eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, but I fought the urge to simply lie back and let him do what he wanted with me. I wanted more, I needed more and I didn't want to wait any longer.

"Chris," I whined. "Please, fuck me."

Looking down, I could see his eyes widen in surprise at my blunt demand. He let his mouth slip off my nipple before giving it one last little nip, just hard enough to make me gasp from the slight twinge of pain.

"As you wish."

He reached down between us, taking a moment to slip his two fingers back inside me. He spread them out, gently stretching me and I was grateful. From my memory, Chris was thick and it had been approximately three years and five months since I last had sex (not that I was counting).

Once Chris was satisfied that I was adequately prepared, he pulled his fingers back and guided the tip of his cock towards my entrance. I tried to relax as he slowly stretched me open, but even as my mind revelled in the bliss I was feeling, a thought hit me that made my eyes widen and body stiffen.

"Chris!" I gasped out, gripping his shoulders to push him away slightly. "Condom!"

His head dropped down and he grunted as if he was using the last of his restraint to pull out of me.

"Shit," he cursed. "How could we forget that again?"

"I guess we don't learn from our mistakes," I smiled, despite the pang in my heart as the voice in my head chimed in again to say 'clearly not or you wouldn't be about to fuck him and break your own heart again'. "Do you have one?"

Chris nodded, rolling off me for just long enough to reach over to the bedside table. He pulled one out of the drawer, ripped it open and slid it on with impressive speed before crawling back over me.

"Now," he smirked. "Where were we?"

He looked down as he guided himself inside me again. The initial stretch wasn't as intense the second time around, but it grew as he pushed deeper and my breath hitched once he was fully inside. Chris stilled, sensing my discomfort as he dropped his head to kiss along my jaw until his lips rested just below my ear.

"You good?"

"Mhmm," I nodded, breathing out and shifting my hips as I started to adjust. We stayed like that, connected but still, for a few moments until I felt the tension ease a bit. "You can move."

"You sure?" Chris looked at me with concern on his face, but I nodded.

That was all the reassurance he needed as he began slowly moving his hips. He pulled his lips back from where they rested near my ear and pressed them against mine.

He kissed me deeply, passionately, as he created a steady rhythm, sliding in and out with his hips pressing hard against mine with each thrust. His biceps bulged and strained to support his weight through the movement and he eventually let his mouth fall away from mine as he could no longer hold back a groan. That noise, and the grunts that followed, made me twitch around him as if my body was doing everything it could to keep him inside me, to keep the pleasure that it had been craving for so long.

I could feel him dragging against every inch inside me, brushing against every nerve and stretching me just enough to keep me constantly impressed by how big he was. It was somehow too much, but not enough all at the same time and I hitched my leg higher up on his waist to help him get closer, deeper, if at all possible.

"Good girl..."

Chris' words hummed encouragingly against my collarbone where he placed another soft kiss before pulling back. He placed his hand on the back of my knee and lifted it even higher, opening me up for him even more.

My head dropped back against the pillow on the next stroke as his cock slid against that delicious spot inside me where his fingers had been only minutes before. He was watching, looking down between us to see me wrapped around him, see me taking him all the way every time he pushed in. I could hear him mumbling praises, compliments about how well I was doing, but I was too far gone, too wrapped up in the pleasure emanating from between my legs to do anything, but moan in response.

He slowed for a moment, leaning down, my leg catching on his shoulder and pressing it even higher as he reminded me to be quiet. He nipped my ear lobe, pulling a whimper from my lips before moving back and picking his pace up again. I knew he was right, but it was hard, next to impossible even, to hold back the noises that were bubbling in my throat.

I bit my lip and dug my nails into his skin as I attempted to control my volume and silently cursed Chris when he shifted his weight just enough to put the pressure of each thrust back on just the right spot. He moved his thumb down to brush over my clit, but it barely took a few strokes for me to fly over the edge.

It felt like my whole world exploded as I clenched around him, a low moan slipping past the lip between my teeth. The tingle ripped through every part of my body, every muscle quivering with pleasure, as Chris picked up the pace even more, with one final burst of speed until he stilled, letting out a deep, rumbling groan of his own before pumping in and out a few final times.

Once he'd stopped his movements completely, he let my leg lower to the bed, collapsing against my chest as he fought to catch his breath. I drifted my hand up to stroke the damp hairs on the back of his neck and soaked in the blissful feeling, a feeling I'd dreamt about since the last time I had the pleasure of enjoying it.

We stayed like that for a few moments until Chris reluctantly pulled back, letting out a soft groan as he slid out of me.

"I'll be right back."

I admired Chris' ability to walk already as all I had the strength to do was nod and shift back to my side of the bed. When Chris reappeared a few minutes later after disposing of the condom in the bathroom, I could barely keep my eyes open. He climbed back under the blankets and shifted over towards me until he could pull me right against his chest with our legs intertwined.

"That was nice," I sighed happily, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms as I nuzzled my nose into his toned pecs.

They shook as he chuckled and a giggle slipped from my lips as well.

"It was," he agreed, kissing the top of my head the same way he had at the start of this little rendezvous.

There was a heaviness in the air, the underlying unspoken words and the conversation that needed to be had hung between us, but I couldn't bring myself to ruin the moment. I'd spent so much time thinking about this, what it would be like to be in his arms again, I couldn't bare to say anything that might make him pull away and snap out of the moment of insanity we'd slipped into.

So, I didn't and neither did he. With one final, gentle kiss goodnight, we stayed tightly in our embrace until we drifted off into a contented sleep.

-

Part Three

[sunnysviolin]

can- can we please have more of the mob au 🥺 i loved it sm would love to see more!!

YES O H My god this is literally my favorite AU. I’m so fucking excited by this oh my god. Okay for you nonnie you get to have the story of how Mari took over her family’s business. Putting this under a read more for strong themes TW: Death TW: Mob TW: Murder (Like someone actively gets killed) 

Mari was raised as her father’s successor. Her mother wanted Mari to not be involved at all and to just be a happy sweet girl who played piano and created a powerful alliance through marriage (She wanted her to be closer to Canon Mari’s personality) 

Her father saw her intelligence, her cunning. He saw her spirit which had a detached power. He knew she would be able to make tough decisions and keep herself whole as she did it. 

Ultimately it’s his decision, and he decides he wants Mari to become him in due time. Her mother moans and wails about it, but he will not be swayed. Even when Sunny is born four years later, he does not budge into stereotypical gender roles.

Mari’s father assembles a team of people for her who are ultimately loyal to her not him. His own consigliere advises against this, but her father knows Mari will be great and in order to achieve that greatness she will need people who are dedicated to her. 

Among those people are a set of twins who belong to a baker under his protection. The twins are Mari’s age and they are strangely morally ethic. The twins are told by their parents that they are to be friends with Mari and to listen to whatever she says. Soon enough they forget they were ever given this direction, Mari is just theirs to follow.

Mari’s father makes one fatal flaw that leads to his downfall. 

When Mari is four and a half years old, he introduces her to Hero. Their parents are affiliated with one another, but they both run their own organizations. They’re civil, but that’s all. They expect their children to be the same.

Their children immediately fall in love. True pure honest to god love. 

Both fathers are less than pleased, but they agree that a union between their families would be mutually beneficial. Hero is the next in line for his own power, and having two strengths would be...interesting. 

It’s a tentative bond that could snap in a second, except Hero and Mari are not as weak as the agreement between their fathers. They spend every day together. They grow together, they learn together, they only get closer and closer.

They know their destiny. They will rule together and nothing will be able to get in their way. They are equals, matched in every way. 

Their fathers are less pleased. Mari’s father refuses to let his daughter and his future be put to the wayside, and Hero’s father has no interest in having his son be anything less than the most powerful person around. Where their children found balance, the fathers found discord. 

When she is sixteen years old, Mari’s father breaks her engagement with Hero. 

Hero’s father had encroached on his territory (yet again) and it is the final straw for her father. Mari tries to argue with him, but he is deep into his Don headspace, and there is nothing she can say to make him reconsider. He will not have his mind changed, and he is going to deal with the problem once and for all. 

He orders a hit on the entire family. Hero’s mother, father, Kel, even the newborn Sally. But more than anything, if the only one who dies is Hero then her father will be satisfied. He wants to make sure there is no heir other than Mari. No one else but his own blood who can take the crown. 

Mari finds out about this hit, and a cold cruel breeze rolls down her spine. 

Her father’s hold has been steadily weakening the older she gets, and his latest deranged action is unsettling to the capos and his advisors. Even her mother is disturbed by his fervor against her daughter’s ex-fiance. 

Mari has options. Mari makes her choice.

Mari kills her father on her seventeenth birthday. The morning of March 1st is freezing, but her hand on the pistol doesn’t shake. Her father is still raging, still yelling at his men and shouting orders. Mari doesn’t need to shout. Her word is law. 

A congregation watches her. Hero’s mother and father who she warned of her father’s plans, Kel and Sunny who are probably too young to watch but have to understand the change, all of the capos who have chosen loyalty to her, and thus chosen to live. Hero is the one who hands her the loaded pistol. He stands at her side as she carries out the hit.  

Those not in attendance include her mother and her father’s top advisors. They are being arrested in a Sting operation she set up. It was good that her mother forced her to keep her pristine mob daughter image. Her snow white dresses and long flowing hair create a perfect picture of innocence. It was all too easy to trick the FBI into doing her bidding. 

Right before she kills him her father becomes fully lucid to what is happening. He stares up at her from past the barrel of the gun. She is not second guessing. She is not grieving him. There is only a cold fury. He dared to threaten what was hers. He had the audacity to try and bite the hand that feeds. 

Her father’s last words continue to haunt her far into her adulthood

“Now you’re a perfect legacy,”

After her father’s death his business splits into parts and divides out. Mari keeps those who were closest to her (and all the money) but the rest she liquidates in one way or another. 

She and Hero are married a month after her father’s death. They are both seventeen. The wedding is a beautiful affair, and that night she sits with her father in law and her husband and they discuss her wedding gifts. 

Her wedding gift is Hero stepping back. She has proven her loyalty to him and their family. She has proven her dedication to their continuation, her ability to do whatever is necessary. Hero has always been better at the other side of things. The wooing, the wheeling and dealing. This is the right way. With her at the helm and Hero as her most trusted, she will create an empire that will outlive all of them. 

Her second wedding gift comes from Daphne and Bowen. Their parents had been a part of those culled, an unfortunate reality. They took custody of their younger brother and ownership of their parents bakery. Their parents had the choice to back the right horse, and they chose wrong. Nether twin holds this against her. They offer her their bakery as her starting point. 

Don Mari begins her reign with blood stained hands and an elegant white wedding dress. White becomes her symbol. 

[yoditorian]

a law divine - 1

soulmate au!ezra/reader

this is solely the fault of one single anon who called out something i put in the tags and now it’s a whole universe but you know what?? it’s the love of my life. anon i hope u see this 💛 i also just want to say i know there isn’t A Lot of soulmate talk in this one but it’s important for the narrative okay bear with me

playlist // series masterlist // main masterlist 

word count: 7.2k (a Big Boy)

warnings: swearing, my usual allusions to smut bc we keep things neutral in this house, brief food/alcohol mentions, 18+ please no babies

It might be the ugliest ship you’ve ever seen.

Not that you’re really one to judge, the one you charter out when you’re running point on a job is a mismatched patchwork of rusty panels held together with electrical tape and hope. If there’s the slightest possibility you might be a teeny tiny bit disappointed in it, it’s only because agency jobs are usually a little cushier. A little safer for once. You could do with a bit safer. 

Your family might prefer a lot safer, but you’d sooner take your chances in open space without a suit than take a job working scrapyards. At least risking your life on digs gets a decent payout.

“You the danger mouse?” 

It’s not an accent you hear often on the Pug, the majority of the station’s population is human, but you turn with a smile to meet the bright purple eyes of the Thanne. Armour-strong scales and sharp teeth, but he seems kind and mild mannered despite his clear predatory biology. You nod as you readjust the pack on your shoulders.

“I’m Iras.” He holds his hand out to you. A distinctly human gesture made a little awkward by the sharp edged scales and extra fingers, but you shake it nonetheless. He’s your captain for this job after all. You wonder where a Thanne became so well versed in human custom, the species as a whole tend to keep to themselves instead of branching out into the universe like so many others, until his crew members appear on the boarding ramp.

Iras gestures to each of them in turn. Summer, a blonde woman with dark skin and a kind smile, and Milo, an older man with a swirling tattoo above his left eyebrow that matches the navy blue of his eyes.

“Is it just us?” You ask. You could have sworn there was a fifth name on the manifest you’d been forwarded, but teams are always subject to change. You just hope you’ll have your own room.

“Ezra always leaves things down to the wire, he’ll show up right before we’re due to push out.” Summer laughs fondly, throwing an arm around your shoulders like she’s known you her whole life. You’re usually a little wary with brand new teams but the way she’s already chatting away makes you feel at home. The last agency job you were sent on got dicey, fast, somehow you’re sure the same won’t happen with this lot.

“There he is.” Milo leans out of the ship to point out into the docks. 

You turn to see a man sauntering through the throngs of harvesters towards the ship, and it’s odd. The rest of the crowd seems to melt away as he closes the distance, even the weight of Summer’s arm on your shoulders feels not quite there. You take the moment to study him. He looks all business with his dark hair and his charcoal grey shirt and the neat pack slung over his shoulder, but his pants and boots have seen better days and the streak of blonde at his temple makes you smile. It’s nice to finally be with a crew without a single stuffy addition. 

“It’s not often I get to congregate with like-minded souls.” He grins when he’s in earshot, a flash of something feline in his eyes. You don’t want to admit that you like it.

“Like-minded?” You tilt your head at him as you follow Summer up the ramp and into the ship. Ezra slips in behind you just as it starts to raise. Just like the others said.

“We’ve all got the same death wish, Sunspot.”

The launch, at least, is smooth despite the beaten up ship and it’s only about twenty minutes before you’re far enough from the Pug to punch a lane to the next system over. At least it isn’t far, there’s only a day between now and making planetfall. Somehow, you’re not surprised to find that it’s more of a barracks and bunk beds situation rather than each having a private quarters. Last time you were hired by the agency, you definitely got your own room. But it gives you a chance to chat with the others as you unpack. 

Milo explains the air isn’t breathable, so he’ll need to double check to make sure everyone’s filters are running at capacity. But he reassures you that it’s a comfortable temperature, so it’s good to know you won’t be sweltering in your suits or freezing your asses off. 

You pick the bed on the wall beside the door, taking out a few essentials from your pack and tucking the rest safely away in the storage compartment. Just as he did back at the docks, Ezra is the last to find his way to the room. He settles his things on the bunk opposite yours because the universe has it out for you, apparently. 

“Did I hear one of them call you the danger mouse?” 

You struggle not to roll your eyes at the nickname awarded to anyone stupid enough to do your job, although admittedly he doesn’t sound like he knows why. You offer him your name instead and pretend the way he rolls it around in his mouth doesn’t send a shock right down to your bones. You’re not in the habit of sleeping with colleagues, not until the job’s over at least. But you’d be lying if you said you’re not tempted.

“They call me in when a site’s unstable but too profitable to close.” You answer, tugging your sleeves up as the climate control settles to a comfortable temperature.

Ezra raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue, and you pull off your gloves. They land on your thin mattress as you hold your hands out between you. Not even the slightest twitch.

“Steadiest hands on the Pug.”

“So they are.” There’s a challenge in his voice that threatens to send a shiver up your spine. It’s clear he doesn’t doubt your skill in the field, but the return of that glint in his eye from the docks has you wondering exactly what else he’s thinking about as he studies your hands. It’s not hard to work out.

It’s been so long since you had to travel out of the system, you forgot how much inter-system lanes can fuck with the human brain. You’re half asleep for the thirty minutes you spend sorting your things for the morning, barely enough energy to change into the sweatpants and ratty t-shirt you call pyjamas, before you crawl into bed and settle down almost immediately.

Only you don’t get to sleep for as long as you’d like. The rest of the crew seem to have filtered in after you, the shift of sheets and snores float through the dimmed room. Except, it’s not just that. There’s shuffling and bed creaking from further down the line of bunks. A hushed giggle sounds in the silence and-

 Oh god. Oh no.

They’re not. They can’t be, they- they are. 

You’re very awake all of a sudden, eyes wide as you keep them firmly on the ceiling and wishing as hard as you can for an alarm to start beeping or something. Anything to get whoever’s banging Summer to stop. A deep voice hushes her when she laughs again. Iras. Knowing is somehow worse. The mechanics- you don’t even want to think about it. 

You turn onto your side slowly, but loud enough to hint that maybe they should find somewhere else for their escapades, and fold your pillow around your head as a kind of makeshift set of earmuffs. Whether they’ve quieted down or it muffles the noise, you’re not sure, but it seems to have worked enough. You catch Ezra’s eye in the almost-darkness, much in the same position as he holds his pillow over his own ears. 

It’s embarrassing for the both of you, even as you share a conspiratorial look. But somehow, it’s less awkward to have to hear Iras and Summer going at it when you know he’s awake. He winces when a particularly loud squeak echoes through the room, and it takes everything in you not to bust out laughing. You fall asleep again eventually, making faces at Ezra in the dark until neither of you can keep your eyes open anymore.

You’re surprisingly well rested come the morning, when the whole ship jolts as it punches into the system and you’re almost thrown out of bed. So much so that it’s easy to forget that you woke up at all until you shuffle into the main living compartment of the ship. One of the crates by the wall has been cracked open, Milo hands out granola bars for breakfast.

Summer and Iras are sitting in the same chair, feeding each other, and it might be cute if you’d been awake longer and hadn’t been woken up by their activities in the middle of the night. You slump into a free chair,  face twisted in disgust for a moment. You’re pretty sure nobody else sees until Ezra laughs and drops into the seat beside you. They’re nice people, from how they took you as a friend immediately, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s just a bit much for your perpetually single heart to take. 

“It’s a week-long job, they can’t take a break?” You watch as they finally pry themselves apart to start, you know, actually working. But not without a genuinely gross kiss that definitely toes the line of public decency. Suddenly the half-eaten bar in your hand isn’t all that appealing anymore.

“Soulmates take no breaks, Sunspot. I’m sure yours would be hard pressed to be anywhere but in bed with you whenever they get the chance.” Ezra winks and it takes you a moment to remember where you are. A glance at the pair makes your new knowledge obvious, the way they seem to be touching, even now, on opposite sides of the room. 

“I’m not sure I believe in all that red string stuff.”

Once the ship is safely landed a short walk from the site, the days you spend digging pass with ease. The deposit is a decent size, it takes all five of you to cover it completely, and the payout should be enough to keep you all comfortable for a little while even with the agency’s cut. The crew around you fill the time enough that you barely notice the week coming to a close. 

Summer sings in the mornings as she cleans her equipment and readies her pack for the day. Miles talks gently to the cells as though they can hear him, shushing them any time he worries a gem might corrupt. Iras seems to have a secret superpower when it comes to the ration packs, they always taste better when he’s the one on lunch duty. And Ezra spends the afternoons regaling you all with tales of ancient beasts, laying eggs that fossilise into the very gems you’re harvesting. Although you’re not sure how true they are. 

You almost get through the whole dig without a hitch. Almost. But aurelac is a tricky thing, even a change in the wind can turn a site for the worst. You’re all sitting around at lunch when it happens. The telltale smoke wafts up into the air for no visible reason at all and although you’ve collected enough to cover the quota, you’d still rather not lose viable gems.

“Get to what you came here for.” Iras gestures in your direction and you dive into the pit head first.

You’re not even sure you stop to think as you follow the harvesting steps at lightning speed, salvaging half the corrupted cells before someone tugs you out by the collar of your suit. The rest of the site starts to smoke the moment you’re out of range, spitting and hissing and rendering the rest of the gems worthless. 

“Danger mouse indeed.” Ezra chuckles over the comm system, hand still fisted in the fabric of your suit. For once, the nickname makes you smile.

While you all go your separate ways after the ship has docked back on the Pug, Summer makes you all promise to meet later at a club you’ve only heard of in your friends’ messy night out stories. Still, you pinky swear when she holds her hand out to you and try to remember if you have a single item in your wardrobe that’ll pass as club attire. Or at least something that isn’t so worn there are holes in it. 

Even if it’s a song he knows, there’s no chance that Ezra could recognise it with the volume cranked so high through the cheap speaker that everything but the beat is distorted. Still, it doesn’t stop people from dancing. 

He’s a little late, as usual, but he doesn’t need to worry as Iras appears behind him and claps a hand on his shoulder, pointing to a booth across the room where Milo is looking increasingly uncomfortable.

It doesn’t take long for Ezra to spot you and Summer in the middle of the dance floor, as he follows Iras around the edge of the space to the booth Milo’s claimed. You’re both more jumping than dancing, yelling the unintelligible lyrics of the song into each other's faces. He can’t hear your breathless laughter as Summer spins you in a circle, smile wide and bright, but he can feel it in his ribs. The drums of the song kick in at the same time the swirling lights of the club light you up like some kind of celestial being, just as you catch his eye through the crowd. And everyone else disappears. The rest of the world, rest of the universe, fades into the background. Just like they did the first time he saw you, glaring suspiciously at the ship on the docks.

Summer’s dragging you back to the table when the song comes to a close, the both of you out of breath and laughing, and Ezra has to try desperately to remember how to speak when he watches a little bead of sweat slide down the side of your neck. And stop himself from just licking a line straight up it. His silent suffering only increases when Milo holds out a shot of the most potent alcohol the Pug has to offer and you down it without so much as a flinch, winking at him when you return the glass to the table for good measure. 

Milo calls it a night only an hour later, clearly only having braved the crowds of the club to celebrate the job. Summer and Iras are tangled in each other on the dancefloor, or the booth, as they keep the shots coming. You, at least, decide to keep your wits about you, declining every drink after the one Milo had handed you. Nobody’s going to fuck with a Thanne, even in as seedy a club as this, so you don’t worry about Summer as she gets sloppier and sloppier. But there’s no spiky non-human boyfriend looking out for you down here, it’s just you and the knife you keep at your hip.

You pull yourself from the dance floor, eyes tracking the room for the missing member of your party, until you feel a set of eyes on you from above. Ezra’s leaning on the bannister of the stairs, his unflinching gaze set solely on you. And you can’t help but smile. You follow him up to the mezzanine without hesitation when he glances upwards and back to you. The buzz of the shot has mostly faded from your veins, replaced by something much more dangerous by the way he’s looking at you. The way he’s looked at you since you met him.

It’s not hard to spot your friends from up here, leaning over the barrier with Ezra to people watch. He crafts stories about every stranger who catches his eye. The man hunched over the bar in a beaten up jacket, the waitress who fiddles with her necklace any time her hands aren’t occupied, the pair of lovers tucked away in the dark corner on the other side of the mezzanine. You find yourself sliding closer to him the more he talks, wrapped up in the warmth of his voice even in the rundown club. Your shoulder knocks into his as you mindlessly bop to the music and listen to his made up stories. Utterly enchanted. It’s hard to remember a time when you felt this way with anybody, if you ever did at all. To tell the truth, it’s hard to remember anyone before Ezra. And neither of you have even made a move yet.

He's got his arms braced on the barrier, and you find yourself lifting the one closest to you so you can slip in between them. Surrounded on all sides and you couldn’t feel more comfortable. To his credit, he doesn’t falter in his vivid storytelling about the group now settled in the booth your crew had claimed earlier, not even a stutter as you turn in his arms to face him. He’s decided they’re here to celebrate the beginning of a new job, rather than a successful harvest. His eyes flick to you for the barest moment, enough to notice yours are firmly focused on the way his lips move around his words, before searching the club below for another story. Another way to keep his mind and mouth occupied so he doesn’t accidentally admit all the sinful things he wants to do to you when you press your ass up against him like that. 

“Ezra.”

He shouldn’t be able to hear you over the music, but you’re nose to nose and he’d be hard pressed to ignore the way you practically purr his name. He’s expecting you to make another flirty comment in that voice that sends his mind reeling into all manner of indecent places the same way you have been all night.

“Can I kiss you?”

He doesn’t expect you to just outright ask him. 

“Yeah.” Yeah. Hell of a time for his eloquence to fail, not that it matters anyway. You’re on him the moment he stops speaking.

It’s like the sun explodes inside him, the way his stomach bottoms out the second your lips touch his. There’s nothing soft about it, not the way he might have imagined there would be. If he’d been so bold as to let himself imagine what kissing you might be like. You’re all warmth and heat and you still taste a little bit like the shot you’d thrown back earlier, and he finds himself falling. Not that Ezra minds, he hopes his parachute never opens if it means you’ll keep kissing him like this. 

You let your fingers roam under his jacket, twist themselves in the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and you sigh into his mouth. God, you knew he’d be good at this. His hands leave a trail of starlight as they trace over your body, never quite choosing a place to rest. They start to settle on your shoulders, only to skim down your arms and squeeze harshly on your waist, to play along the strip of skin he finds just underneath the hem of your shirt, to grip harder than he might mean to onto the meat of your ass through your pants. You gasp, break the kiss for barely a moment, and stop his apology in its tracks. 

He doesn’t protest when you walk him backwards, still groping at each other like it’s just the two of you in the whole club. Ezra only groans when his back hits the wall and you push even closer into him, as if there was even any space left for air between your bodies already. He’s not about to complain. He could kiss you for a thousand years and it still wouldn’t be enough. It’’ll never be enough, not for a soul as hungry as his. You pull back too soon, far too soon, and it takes a solid minute for his brain to kick in and break the vice grip he still has a little too low for the public eye.

Oh, that look on your face. He’s in trouble.

“Where are you off to?” Ezra asks, flushed and breathless, a hand stretched halfway out to where you’re backing toward the stairs.

“Home,” You say with a sly smile, “You coming?”

He can’t push off the wall fast enough. 

You don’t live far from the club, a ten minute walk at the most, but Ezra manages to make it a solid twenty with the way he keeps pulling you to him. Not that you’re about to complain. You’ve been waiting a week to let him get his hands on you. At the press of his lips on your neck, the shudder it sends down your spine, you wonder if part of you has been waiting even longer than that. 

You’re trying, desperately, to type in the keycode to your apartment. If Ezra could calm down with the grabby hands, you might have gotten it right straight away. 

“No roommates?” He asks, kissing along your shoulder, and you take the temporary reprieve to kick your brain into gear and remember the fucking numbers. 

“Hugo won’t be too upset if I make him sleep on the couch.” 

The door slides back into the wall to reveal a dark apartment, a strip of light from the hall falling on a very orange cat. He stares at you for a second, clearly not particularly pleased that he’s been so rudely roused from a nap, before he settles back to sleep stretched out on the couch cushions. Hugo. Ezra is silently relieved that the roommate is just a cat, he’s not sure he’s got the self control to stay quiet tonight. Or to make sure you do. 

You waste no time once you gesture for Ezra to walk in ahead of you, flicking the switch on the wall to slide the door shut and pulling him back to your lips. He doesn’t hesitate to crowd you up against the cold metal. 

Although you could devour each other until the closest sun explodes and swallows the station whole, Ezra has to break away. To think, to breathe, to tease you a little about the moan he just swallowed from you. But you beat him to it.

“Gotta catch your breath?” The smile on your face threatens to make his knees buckle, and with you pressed up against the closed door the way you are? He might just let them. 

“What do you want, Sunspot?” 

You left a lamp on in your bedroom, the door cracked just enough to let a little filter through to the main living space. Still, he’s almost completely silhouetted against the warm yellow glow. As if he’s some kind of ethereal being, maybe he is.

“Make me see the stars.” You pull him in as close as you can and let your lips brush over his as you whisper. His next words make you shudder almost as much as the way he drags the zipper of your jacket down, slowly, tooth by tooth. 

“As you wish.” 

And boy, does he deliver.

You’re expecting things to feel more unfamiliar than they do, as you explore each other for the first time, but it’s like you’ve been here before. Once, twice, a hundred times before. Every move feels oddly choreographed. Ezra knows exactly how to take you apart and put you back together again, the way he pulls every twitch and moan out of you so expertly. You’re no different, as your fingers map the plains of his chest like it’s muscle memory. 

You shake it off, put the thoughts to the back of your mind. You’ve been around the block a little in your time on the Pug, it only makes sense that he has the same kind of experience. But shared experience or not, you can’t deny how much having him so close feels like a homecoming of sorts.

It’s the best sleep of your whole fucking life and, honestly, you’re not that surprised. Ezra makes a damn good pillow. Even if you both wake hours later into the day cycle than either of you normally would. Even if he’s more of a morning person than you are. It’s kind of nice, to sit still snuggled in your pile of blankets and watch him potter around your apartment as Hugo winds around his ankles like he’s been there for years. 

Your fridge, however, is heartbreakingly empty and renders his offer of making breakfast pointless. Instead, he pulls his shirt on and offers to take you to the best little diner he knows, tucked away in the heart of the marketplace. It’s a hard offer to turn down.

“What kind of gentleman would I be to have so much income at my disposal and not treat such a beauty as yourself to a good meal?” He winks as he flashes his credit chit at you as if you didn’t scan in for your paychecks at the same time. You laugh as you empty a food pouch into Hugo’s bowl, and tell him he better show you all the good breakfast spots. You shrug off his raised eyebrow and mutters of a ‘next time’. As if he didn’t already know.

Still, Ezra takes you by the hand the moment your apartment door secures itself shut behind you, leading you through the hall and out into the street, and you’ve never felt more wanted.

It’s like everything’s brighter, walking leisurely through the bustling market stalls with Ezra. The smells are stronger as spices in the air cling to your nose, the cacophony of vendors calling out almost sounds like music, and you start to laugh. Hand in his, in the middle of the maze of stalls full of food and tools and trinkets. As if it’s just the two of you in the whole universe. 

At least Ezra doesn’t look back at you like you’re crazy. He smiles too, just as big, and you feel bathed in warmth the same as when the sun comes out planetside.

You’re both still grinning when he leads you deeper through the market, down an alley and up a flight of stairs to an unassuming door.

“Is this where you murder me?” You joke just as the door opens to reveal a short older woman with an eyepatch, who pulls Ezra down into a tight hug as soon as he’s in arms reach. He introduces her as Merse, the woman who’s run the best diner no one’s ever heard of on the whole station. She slaps his arm for his cheek, but her grin grows twice as wide when she spots your intertwined hands. 

Ezra pulls you through the doorway after him as he follows Merse, chatting about how she always keeps the best table open just in case he brings a friend and you try not to smile too wide when she wiggles her eyebrows at you. He says something to you, but you’re too distracted by the view from the big windows. 

The far wall is completely glass, overlooking the main docks, lined with booths. A small family sits in one of them, their two children standing up on the seats to watch the ships come and go. You’ve never seen it from this angle before, always down in the masses and scanning the boards for new jobs. It’s kind of beautiful. In a rusty, patchwork sort of way.

Merse points you towards one of the booths with a promise that she’ll bring you the best breakfast you’ll ever have, something tells you she’s not lying. 

It’s not long after you slide into the booth that she comes marching out of the kitchen with two plates, wafting steam that makes your mouth water and your stomach rumble. Rice and vegetables and eggs and all sorts of things you’ve never even seen pile high, and you’d worry you wouldn’t be able to finish it all if you weren’t so hungry. 

“You know I won’t break, right?” You push your fork around in the remaining rice on your plate as you watch Ezra absorb your words. He thinks about it for a long moment, dark eyes over you before settling on your own.

“What’s this about?” He knows, you know he knows. More importantly, you know he’s going to make you say it. In the middle of the day cycle, in this family friendly diner. 

“Just,” You exhale sharply, “Making sure you’re aware.” Your body floods with a shyness that’s alien compared to the confidence you had last night and suddenly, your breakfast is the most interesting thing on the Pug. You can practically feel him smiling at you, but you don’t dare look up to meet it. 

He was right though, the food really is some of the best you’ve ever had.

It’s not until you’ve wandered back through the market, still hand in hand, and found your way back to your apartment that Ezra decides to bring it up. He may have been more than a little distracted last night, but he’s sure he spotted a set of old books sitting on a shelf above your couch. You freeze, ready to go on the defensive about how ink and paper will never be obsolete, until you realise he’s genuinely interested. He’s not judging you by any means. Something about the curiosity shining in his eyes makes your heart flutter more than you care to admit. 

He could watch you talk about your books all day, every day, for the rest of his life. How your eyes lit up when you recognised his interest, a paperback lover himself. You can’t seem to stop yourself as you dive into the intricate details of your favourite classics, two or three hundred year old texts that make you feel like you’ve lived a thousand different lives at once. He wants so badly for you to keep talking but the more impassioned you become, the more he wants to kiss you.

You trail off at some point, he loses track when you climb into his lap to point out notes you’ve made in margins and the books lie scattered on the couch beside you as you kiss him until neither of you can breathe. You’re still a little achy from last night, deep in your bones, and you hiss when his teeth scrape across your shoulder.

“Won’t break, is that right?” Ezra chuckles darkly and nips at your jaw, “Can I try?”

“Please.”

You wake at the creak of your bedroom door, sometime in the early hours. Hugo noses his way through the narrow gap and hops up onto the bed, curling up on the unclaimed pillow by your head. Ezra sleeps deeply, face buried in your neck, and you let the warmth of him wash over you. It ebbs and flows like a tide, that familiarity. The undeniable fact that something about this just feels right. You’ve known this man a week and yet you’re here wondering, as he rests in your arms, if he might want more than just this with you. 

Oh, but you are so afraid. Afraid to put a name to anything about him because what then? Will he tell you that you’re simply a placeholder in his life for something better, or that his heart might bleed through his skin when you’re apart? You’re not sure which is worse. Not that it matters, there is no word in any language that would be able to explain exactly how you feel about the man asleep in your arms. It’s enough, you think, to have him with you at all. In any capacity. Whatever pieces of his soul he bares as your breathing evens and his mind wanders. That is enough, and you will protect it with your life.

You have to part ways at some point, of course. Another week of rolling around in your bed sheets together, on the couch, on your pitiful kitchen counter, up against the wall, and Ezra gets a call from the agency. It’s a last minute job, the crew only need an extra set of hands to fit the safety standards, but it’s several systems out from the Pug. It’ll take him away for at least a month. You trail after him at the docks, with promises of messages in his absence and all manner of unsavoury activities on his return. It’s with a deep kiss and a wolf whistle from a couple of dock workers on their break, that you wish him luck. And ask him to hurry back.

Summer’s message surprises you when it dings through on your tablet. Some gajillionaire on Dallore T53 has found an aurelac deposit on the grounds of his new estate and wants it gone. She’s preoccupied, already out on another dig with Iras and a new crew. But it’s the kindness of her even thinking to offer it to you that makes your heart swell. It’s been a while since you’ve had real, honest to god, friends. 

You’d go in alone, normally, for something like this. But now? Now, you’re punching in Ezra’s comm pin before you can even really register what it is that you’re doing. He only got back a week ago, and you made him settle in back home before he could settle in yours. It’s not like the two of you would be doing any resting on his return to your apartment, exactly. The job was a pain, he’d told you, it ran months longer than anyone expected and you’re sure he’s still exhausted. He won’t agree, but you find you have to ask. Just in case.

“Sunspot?” He sounds happy, rested. And you breathe a sigh of relief, at least he can follow your orders when he wants to.

Hugo snakes around your ankles at the familiar voice, the same way he does any time the man himself walks through the door. If you didn’t know that the little orange devil’s alliances lie in who feeds him, you might think he loves him more than you. 

You explain about the job, make sure to stress that he doesn’t have to come. That you don’t even really need to take it if he’d rather you stay close by. Okay, you don’t say that out loud, but the smile you hear in his words through the speaker makes it known that he’s heard you. Loud and clear. 

It doesn’t matter in the end, not when he accepts before you even have a chance to give him any details. You don’t know why you were so worried he might say no.

“Any excuse to be warmed by your light, Sunspot.” Hugo brushes up against your leg at the same time Ezra’s voice practically drips through the speaker, smooth as honey.

“Is that a euphemism?”

“Do you want it to be?”

You choke on your breath and he laughs like you’ve told the funniest joke in the universe. He’ll kill you one of these days, you’re sure of it.

You charter the ship you usually take on private jobs, the space a little smaller than you remember with another person on board, but it’s not like either of you aren’t used to being in close quarters with each other by now. At least Ezra has the decency not to be mean about the beaten up exterior, she still flies true. He’d grinned at that, told you how a rough outside often means the opposite of the interior mechanics. The glint in his eye is enough to know he’s not just talking about the ship. 

At least the planet is in the same system as the Pug, so there’s no need to punch through to a lane. You fly in silence for a few hours, the familiar feel of the controls under your fingers as you guide it through the sky. Ezra’s eyes remain firmly on you although you pretend as though you don’t notice, and it takes him a moment to come back to the present when you ask him to flick a few switches and prepare to enter the atmosphere. 

The coordinates the client gave you to land are only a short walk from the house itself, a great stone castle-looking thing. It’s kind of ugly, the way the limestone juts out above the treeline. A big white block among the rich reds and oranges of the leaves. They grow that colour all year round, perpetually stuck in spring and summer. It must be nice to have the kind of money to find somewhere like that and decide you’ll build a house there. The air is breathable, and a quick look at the planet file proves it’s never too hot or too cold. A perfect place to build a house really. Although, if it were you making that kind of decision, you’d maybe go for a design that’s a little less cubist. 

The deposit isn’t huge, but it’ll be a good payout nonetheless providing the cells are all in good nick. You and Ezra wade through swathes of long grass and wildflowers until you find a spot to set up camp. At least you’re not stuck in bulky suits and having to lug around your equipment.

You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect dig if you’d tried. Each of the cells sit far enough away from each other that even if one were to fail, it wouldn’t corrupt a whole mess of the others. Although with both of your talents, it doesn’t surprise you when you collect every last crystal without a single misstep.

You’d told Ezra the profit would be split down the middle, equal pay for equal work. But it doesn’t stop him from sliding an extra gem into your pack to cover the ship charter. After all, you’re the one who was offered the job in the first place. He’s just following his heart, the one that walks around outside of his body and throws itself into deposits mid-corruption.

You hold one of the little gems aloft in the sunlight and watch as it sparkles.

“I used to think it was weird how rabid people go for these. But the more I dig the more I get it, isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

Ezra tilts his head like he’s studying the rock, but his dark eyes don’t leave yours.

“It’s a close second.”

Sap.

Night falls before either of you realise just how late it is, clearing out the last few cells of the deposit. It’s not worth going back to the Pug now, he reasons, and you find it hard to disagree. The ache of the few days you’ve spent digging has settled deep in your muscles, the thought of having to run through docking procedure when you’re so tired is enough to make you wince. 

You let him take you for all you’re worth under the watchful eye of the heavens, and find there’s more stars behind your eyelids than you could ever hope to see in the skies. It’s all you can do to cry out the name of the only god to ever make you feel this holy. Ezra. 

He wakes with the sun, the same way he always has on jobs, to find you curled so tightly against him that it bubbles up from his toes all the way to his throat and he finds his eyes threatening to spill over. Everything in the universe seems to slot so perfectly together when you’re like this. Ezra sighs, content to never let the moment end. You are so beautiful.

He shifts up onto his elbow a little, still cradling you against him, and lets his free hand trail softly over your face. Tracing the shell of your ear, the curve of your cheekbone, the bridge of your nose. The dawn’s sunlight breaks over the trees and filters through the fabric of the tent, bathing you in soft green light. He could stay here, holding you, until the universe implodes. Ezra doubts he’d notice such an insignificant thing with you beside him. 

But end it must, and he rouses you gently with soft whispers and kisses against your temple. You stretch in his arms, not unlike Hugo, and sigh as your joints pop and settle. Packing up happens slowly, moving around each other so naturally it’s as though you’ve done it a thousand times before. Every time Ezra passes, you drop a kiss wherever you can reach. His shoulder, the arm of his jacket, that little patch on his jaw. He pretends not to blush when you catch his hand and carefully press your lips to the little tattoo between his thumb and index finger, you pretend not to notice when he does.

You’ll be the death of him, he’s sure of it. The way you keep watching him out of the corner of your eye, the way your smile is so bright when he catches you that he can barely stand to look at it. With the tent and equipment packed up, his fingers itch to thread through your own as you start the walk back to the ship, there’s not a word in the universe strong enough to describe just how much he hates that both his and your hands are too full.

It’s odd, thinking about it. How you met by pure chance, hired by the agency just because you were on the same station at the same time. Would he have ever met you if you’d chosen a different career path, if he had? Maybe somewhere, centuries before or after this moment, where you’re meeting again. Different lives, different times, spanning across all of existence. Maybe, right here and now, you’re starting to feel the way he does about you. Just a little. Maybe he’ll get up the courage to ask what you think, how far you want to take things. He’d give himself to you in a heartbeat, without question. In a way, he already has.

Ezra can’t stop himself.

“What do you make of the red string of fate?”

“All you’ve seen of the universe and you still believe in soulmates?” 

“Maybe I’m more foolish that I made myself out to be.” He shrugs, trying not to let his eyes fall to the little finger of his right hand. Trying not to clench his fist to show you exactly how much your disbelief affects him down to his bones, as though his soul itself is frowning. You’re smiling. Uncharacteristically quiet, but you seem appropriately pleased by his answer and stray a little further out into the long grass.

Curiosity gets the better of you.

“Can you see yours?” You have to call out across the gap you’ve unintentionally created, yellow stalks swishing in the breeze between you, and for a moment you’re not sure he heard.

Ezra looks at his right hand, at the thin red string tied neatly at the knuckle of his little finger, and follows the line as it threads through the grass to where it’s knotted at your left. 

“No.” 

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[getitinbusan]

10 years with Jungkook

California

You met Jeon Jeongguk in the summer of 2012. Two kids brought together by a calling to California and a chance at making it big. Best friends from the start, what happens when only one of you becomes successful? Do you ever forget your first love? 

Childhood friends to lovers, angst and smut.

Words:  4600

Warnings: 18 plus smut. Oral F, Sex MF, Swearing. Pretty Mild for me. This is a previously posted fic that has been updated and reworked.

It was a rare rainy August day in California. The heavy drops created a sad melody on the window as you put the dishes away. Tired and lonely, the feeling in your gut kept nagging at you, maybe it was time to give up. 

The savings account was drained, there were no jobs to be found and  this was the second month of falling short on rent. Surely it would only be a matter of time before your roommates would stop exchanging house cleaning for money. 

Hanging the threadbare towel over its hook you stood in the kitchen, your mood mirroring the dim light of the afternoon. Feeling frusterated and stupid, it had taken you way longer than it should have to realize that in LA, you were nothing. Not pretty enough, rich enough, skinny enough or talented enough to ever make it big. So this is how the great Califonia chapter of your life would end, not by choice but necessity. 

Gathering up the mail that was strewn across the countertop, you shuffled through it sorting its priority. Junk mail, bills, personal…one in particular standing out. Your heart began pounding as you took in the details.

The penmanship was nice, black ink on an unassuming envelope. But it was the stamp that caught your attention. It was sent from Korea.

Flipping it in your hand you examined the torn top. The letter, having been read, was cradled back safely inside. Addressed to your roommate a frown crept onto your face. Why wouldn’t he write to you?

It was a ridiculously hopeful notion but you widened the envelope and inhaled trying to find a trace of his fragrance, something, anything to trigger a happy memory. Cool California nights were the best excuse. How many times had you borrowed his sweaters just to have his smell on you?

You missed him. It had been a year and a half and you couldn't help but once again ponder the nagging question that always crept back. If you hadn't forced him to break the rules would he still be a part of your life? 

It was too tempting to resist, your fingers pinched the paper inside of the envelope and pulled it free. 

I’m feeling low, I don’t know who I am, only who I’m supposed to be.

What would life be like if I had stayed in California? We could all be roommates, hanging out and having fun, going to the beach on weekends.

Does she even think about me?

It sounds greedy that with how much I have right now, it’s not enough. I would give anything to wake up in bed beside her everyday. I want more than anything to be able to talk to her about these things but I can’t. I’ve made the mistake of trading her for fame and now I’m destined to keep her at an arm’s length so she’ll never know the price I paid.

How does she even see me? As an Idol? As the boy who abandoned her? Has she forgotten the good days we spent together?

I’ve been wrestling with myself, whoever that is. I wish I could be the teenage boy from that long ago summer again. I wrote this song thinking about it…

~When I see you smile in the screen

You’re good at everything

You’re just perfect

Feels like I've never been you

Do you even see me?

Do you know who I am?

Or how do I look now?

You don’t like me like that

I want to be your decalcomania~

I’m afraid I may not get back for a while, please write. Your friendship and thoughts of her are the only things that are keeping me tethered to some semblance of reality.

JK

Clutching the letter to your chest, your mind took you back to that day. 

"Decalcomania, the art or process of transferring pictures and designs. Making a copy of the original on a different medium"  

Reading the description on the wall you’d both stood laughing at the piece's strange name, Decalcomania. The gallery visit felt like lifetimes ago but you still remembered clearly. You remembered, not because the piece had struck you as particularly special but because that's where you had decided that Jeongguk's laugh was the best sound you'd ever heard.  

California had lured you into its promise when you turned 14. Having been accepted to an  intensive dance program at The Movement Lifestyle Studio you packed up and headed West for the summer. 

It was July and it was hot, the dancers stepping off the bus one at a time took their places in the studio.

Looking around there were so many older kids, you were probably one of the youngest. Calling out names they put you into groups, it appeared to be by age so you made your way across the unfamiliar wooden floor to the tiny gathering of teens in the darkened corner.

Shy introductions were made as one more member was ushered over to where you had congregated. “This is Jeongguk.” 

He had the cutest smile and barely spoke english but his eyes twinkled like the constellations. Immediately drawn to each other you became fast friends.

Absolutely exhausted by the end of the first few days he quietly knocked at your door.

He was homesick and lonely, used to being surrounded by his six members, he couldn’t sleep well without someone beside him. You let him crawl into bed with you, you were 14 and it was innocent. 

Inseparable, days and nights were spent side by side, the others began referring to you as the twins. It was the best summer of your life but like every boy meets girl summer story, it had to come to a close. Promising through tears to keep in touch and stay friends you went your separate ways. 

Jeongguk would send silly videos of his practice sessions, goofing around with the other members.  He’d facetime and text but he always loved to send handwritten letters.

They lived in a box under your bed and contained stories of how hard he was working to become an idol. He always signed off with, "I miss you,” and a few lines of lyrics he’d written.

You didn’t know then how important they would become, the only tangible piece of him you could still hold on to.  

Whenever he came back to America you did everything you could to see him. You always found a way to get to the small tour stops whenever they came through. 2015 was the first, then KCon in 2016, but 2017, it was different.

Facetiming you with the news that they were bringing the Wings tour to NY, Chicago and Anaheim, he asked if you’d be part of the dance crew. How could you turn down two weeks with Jungkook the hottest new K-pop Idol? They were getting bigger, more popular and their lives were changing rapidly.

He had strict rules, girls were completely off limits. No talking, no hugging, no smiling at one another, any little thing could be easily misconstrued by the fans. Everything had to be done in secret. Jungkook would sneak you into his hotel room where you would spend your nights together catching up. The boys would bring you in food and cover for him while you both stayed locked away out of sight.

While happy to be with him, you could tell there was an underlying sadness he was holding on to.

"I wish I could go and explore the city with you like we used to," his voice trailed off.

You were laying in each other’s arms cuddling on his bed.  Leaning over he kissed the top of your head.

"All I really want is to take you on a proper date."

You snuggled closer into his side as he exhaled deeply, releasing his secret. 

"I’ve been waiting so long to become someone, a man worthy of your affection. Now I’m stuck. I have everything I wanted and I’m not allowed to share it with you."

His arms gripped you tighter.

"I’m sorry, this is a terrible confession. I don’t expect you to love me back, not under these circumstances, I just need you to know, you’re the only girl I’ve ever loved and there won’t be anybody else, ever." 

Every bit of his confession, every moment of that last night in the hotel room had stuck with you to this day. The words of a 19 year old boy whose life had become bigger than the feelings of two people.

He'd left in the morning without knowing. You were a coward, too afraid to tell him you loved him too.  

LA became your home right after they left Anaheim. Focused on your dancing, if you became good enough, maybe you could join the tour with him. 

A letter with a big bouquet of flowers arrived a few weeks later. 

"Congratulations on your new house in LA!

I hope that all of you are getting along as roommates, it’s hard living with others sometimes.

Last night I dreamt that I was there with you and all of our friends. We were having a party on the beach and we sat together watching the sunset.

Do you remember after practice when we would skateboard as fast as we could to the ocean so we wouldn’t miss the colors?

Maybe one day my toes can feel the sand there again.

I miss you, I miss me… the me I am when I get to be with you.

We're coming back in October for a few days and I’m hoping I can see you, I’m lonely already.   

Jeongguk

~Won’t you please stay in dreams

I can hear the sea from far away

Across the dream, over the bush

Go there where it becomes clear

Take my hands now

You are the cause of my euphoria

When I’m with you, I’m in utopia~

By the time The AMAs came, the plan had been finalized. You would steal Jungkook away so that you could take him on your first real date.

Having enlisted Namjoon to help, he was your inside man. The boys, happy to help finally get you together, would cover for his whereabouts with management. The day before the awards they were only scheduled for styling, as long as he wasn’t late for the press rounds the next afternoon your plan could work.

It was Namjoon’s job to get him out of the building. Telling him to follow his lead, Joon convinced the managers that Jungkook must have eaten something bad for lunch. Claiming to not feel well, he was whisked away to meet you at the hotel’s back receiving door. 

Sitting in the shiny red rented convertible you tossed him a pair of sunglasses. What you wouldn’t give now to see that smile again.

Barely giving him time to get in you’d sped away heading straight for In And Out Burger.

"Kookie, I hope you’re ready for the best day of your life! We’re going to eat until we explode, drink and party at the beach and then, instead of returning you to your fancy 5 star hotel you’re staying the night in my crappy little house with a tiny uncomfortable bed!!"

He laughed, that perfect laugh. It was so pure and honest, thinking about it now made you sad. Was that the last moment he'd gotten to be his true self? Jeongguk the man not Jungkook the personna? 

Knowing you only had one day to give him everything, one day to show him you loved him, you tried to make the best of it.

Picking up the food Jungkook held onto the red and white bags in the passenger seat, sneaking his hand in to steal fries when he thought you weren’t looking. If you weren’t sure you were in love with him before you you certainly were now.

Pulling up beside the tree on the beach he was stunned, "Ahhh Jagi, I can’t believe you brought me here."

Happy that it meant as much to him as it did to you, you both sat on the branch and ate. Two blocks from the old studio this used to be your escape. Every break you’d make your way to the tree for some time alone, together. 

With the burgers done he turned to you and smiled. It felt like he wanted to say something, but stupidly, you'd cut him short leading him back towards the car.

Making your way through your checklist you brought him back to where you'd first met. The Movement studios students were starstruck when he walked in. After insisting that he teach some choreography, he reluctantly led the class.

Your eyes were glued to him as he moved in front of the mirrors, no longer that awkward teenager but a full grown man mesmerizing you with his every move.

Getting back to the car he stopped you before you reached for the handle. Putting his arms around you he pulled you in close. But again, you resisted him. 

"You stink Jungkook, our next stop is the ocean."

You remember pulling away. How stupid you were, you should have held on to him longer. Reaching into the back seat you revealed a pair of swim shorts and a towel. He looked disappointed that you kept interrupting his attempts at intimacy. It broke your heart but you had a plan and limited time to execute it. 

The Ocean was chilly but the wind was warm, he came out of the change room with the shorts on but still wearing his shirt.

"Kookie, this isn’t Korea, you don’t have to be so modest here. Plus, you should grab some sun, you may not believe it but when your skin is sunkissed," you grinned, "you look really sexy."

He raised his eyebrows and quickly removed the shirt at your request.

Running into the water you splashed and played and he took great pleasure in picking you up and throwing you as far as he could.

The sun was getting ready to set and you wanted to dry off before the cooler air set in.

Leading him back to the shore you both laid down on the towel. He put his arm around you and you cuddled into his side.

"My god Guk, look at your abs!"

He blushed like crazy as you traced the muscles on his stomach.

"Stop, it tickles," he giggled.

But you didn’t, you kept tickling him until he held you so tight you couldn’t move. He had you pinned, flipping you on your back he shook his wet hair flinging water droplets all over you. Pleased with himself he leaned in closer to you, his eyes asking for permission to kiss you. As the gap between you got narrower you could hear his name being shouted and footsteps running closer. He flopped onto his back and sighed as your roommates and friends piled on top of him.

Eating, drinking and catching up with everyone you watched each other from across the bonfire. Moving from person to person he slowly made his way back to your side.

"Welcome back." Running your hand through the back of his hair, it was now or never. 

Pulling him closer your lips finally met in the way they were destined, soft, slow and full of love. His hands instinctively moved to cup your face as the world stopped around you.

"I love you," you whispered.

Nose to nose he smiled at you and it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

It didn’t last long, his phone started going off incessantly. The managers knew, you’d been careless, photos and videos of him from the studio had been posted online.

"I’m so sorry Jungkook, I didn’t mean for you to get in trouble."

His eyes turned hungry as he grabbed your hand.

"You promised I wouldn’t be going back to my hotel tonight, let’s get out of here."

If he was going to get in trouble anyway, why stop now?  

The drive back to your place was quiet, adrenaline and hormones flowing like electricity through you both. The time for smiling was over as the seriousness of the situation lingered in the air between you.

It wasn’t just being in trouble or being caught, but the fact that you both knew what was going to happen when you stepped into your bedroom. One act that would change everything between you, it held the power to change the dynamic of your relationship forever.

Leading him to your room you closed the door and stood staring at him as he sat on your bed. He raked his fingers through his hair before he spoke.

"I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than to be able to make love to you. BUT I also know that when I leave I’m not going to get to see you again for a very long time." His head hung low. "Management is going to do everything possible to keep us apart and that won’t be fair to you. I think that maybe we should just let our happy memories of today be enough, I don’t want you to regret anything. " 

Walking closer you stood between his legs and he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"The only thing I'll regret is never getting to experience all of you. I can’t live not knowing how it feels to be totally yours even if it's only for one night."

He rested his head against your chest, "You’ll always be mine."

His hands traveled to the hem of your shirt and his fingers ran over the soft skin of your stomach. Undoing the button of your jeans he slowly slid them down your legs and you stepped out of them. 

Standing up he lifted the thin fabric of your shirt over your head and you stood before him waiting as he took his off too. Unclasping your bra he sighed as he looked at you taking in your shape, his fingertips hovering over your hard nipples.

"I’ve never done this before," he confessed.

"Me either," you whispered. "I've only ever wanted it to be you."

More relaxed he let his mouth start exploring your body. You were goosebumps and shivers beneath him as his tongue found it’s home between your legs.

He was soft and careful, placing his lips over your clit sucking it in delicately until your moans couldn’t be contained any longer. You could feel his eyes burning into you as he watched in awe as his finger slid inside you.

"It feels good Kookie, please…"

You could feel his mouth stopping to smile before he picked up speed. Moving your hips to eagerly meet his mouth you were unravelling quickly.

"The way you taste is better than anything I had imagined."

Devouring you in sessions between his words of adoration you came hard on his tongue. 

"I'm really regretting running you all over town today when we could have just been here...doing that.. " You were out of breath. 

"I was worried that I wouldn't be any good." He grinned at you pleased with himself. 

Moving up to where your head lay on the pillow he pushed the dampened hair off your face, "Are you ok? Do you need anything?"

He placed his forehead against yours.

"I just want you. I need you to know I'm yours, forever. 

Rolling a condom on he moved slowly to line himself up with your entrance.

"Tell me if you need me to stop okay?"

He pushed carefully, slowly stretching you around him. Watching intently for discomfort he froze when he saw the tears welling in your eyes.

"Shit, I’m so sorry, let’s stop, I didn’t mean to hurt you." He was apologetic as he thumbed away the tears.

"No," you delicately kissed his lips. "I’m okay… I’m just so happy, so overwhelmed with how much I’m feeling right now."

He smiled down at you, pressing his body closer he gave another push until he was fully inside. Your bodies fell into a beautifully choreographed rhythm until Jungkook was so lost in pleasure he began to move at his own pace. Quicker and deeper he moved until he finally spilled into the condom. 

Laying together in euphoria you kissed, and kissed, and kissed until you finally found sleep while wrapped around one other.

Every few hours he’d wake you up. His hands running over your body checking to make sure you weren't just a dream. You’d made love each time, everytime better than the last.

It was 9 am when he caressed you awake once more.

"I have to leave soon. I don’t want to." He spoke in whispers nestled into your neck. "Please tell me to stay."

Your heart broke at his words. "If I ask you to stay, I’m selfish, you’ll always wonder if you made the right decision." The tears came, knowing you had to do what was right. "If I tell you to go, your dreams come true… ” your voice trailed off.

"And I’ll always wonder if I made the right decision,” he finished. 

Your phone started ringing and you knew time was up.

It was Joon, "I’m outside. Sorry, I held them off as long as I could. I told them that I’d come get him so you could at least have time to say goodbye."

Your tears fell out in heavy ugly sobs, "Okay, five minutes… and Joon… thanks, I know you’re probably in trouble too."

Hanging up you turned back, Jungkook was already out of bed with his clothes thrown on. He stood with open arms bravely waiting. 

"Thank you for yesterday I'll never forget it."

Laying your head against his chest you took a moment to listen to his heartbeat. You could hear him sniffle and knew he was crying too.

You flashed back remembering that night long ago when he came to you homesick, holding you so he could sleep while he tried to hide his tears. There was a knock at the door and Namjoon’s voice broke through the moment.

"We’ve got to go Jungkook."

Stepping away you’d left his shirt soaked in tears, handing him his sweater he pushed it back towards you. "You keep it."

He kissed you one last time before opening the door to reveal Namjoon's weary face. His Hyung put his arm around his shoulder and led him to the car.

Turning one last time he looked back, his eyes were filled with tears as he gave a small wave before getting in the back of the big black sedan. 

For months you pretended that management was the only thing keeping you apart.

You held on to that silly notion until May when they were coming for the Billboard awards. For weeks leading up you waited for a message, a secret meeting arrangement, but you got nothing. His image was all over the TV and his voice echoed through your empty heart. Then, just like that, it was over and he was gone again.��

Now, here you stood in your kitchen, his letter bringing him to the forefront of your mind and opening old wounds.

He was just as sad as you but what could you do? 

Picking up a pen you began writing… 

I shouldn’t have done it but I read it in your letter

You said to a friend that you wish you were doing better

I wanted to reach out but I never said a thing

You don’t ever have to be stronger than you really are

And honey, you don’t ever have to act cooler than you think you should

You’re brighter than the brightest stars

You’re scared to win, scared to lose

I’ve heard the war was over if you really choose

The one in and around you

You hate the heat, you got the blues

You’re changing like the weather, oh, that’s so like you

I’ll pick you up

I’ll catch you on the flipside

If you come back to California

We’ll do whatever you want, travel wherever, how far

We’ll hit up all the old places

We’ll have a party, we can dance till dawn… 

Y/N

October came again and a chill was in the air, the smell of the ocean hit your nose and you stopped to take it in.

Bundled in Jungkook’s hoodie you threw your bag over your shoulder and began your walk to work. You'd gotten lucky, Movement had hired you just as you were about to give up and leave California. Filled with hope and excitement a new intensive program was scheduled to start today and you were going to meet the future superstars of the dance world. 

Memories flooded your mind as you made your way through the familiar neighborhood. It still hurt, but things were beginning to feel happy again. Writing the letter had given you closure, he knew how you felt and beyond that there was nothing else you could do.

Opening the heavy door to the studio you caught a familiar reflection moving in the mirror.  Chalk marker in hand he was writing something, It couldn’t be?

Hearing the door click back into place he turned to face you.

"Hi."

He walked towards you slowly. Unsure of what your reaction would be, he approached with caution.

"Hi."

You were breathless, in the months of not seeing him he’d only grown more handsome.

"I can’t change what happened… and for the rest of my life I’ll be sorry for all of the time we missed."

He was getting closer.

"But I can’t take another day not knowing if I can fix this… somehow…"

He reached for your hand but you pulled it away. His head fell in disappointment.

"Jungkook, I can’t listen to this… look at me."

Reaching for his chin you pulled his head up until he was facing you again.

"I refuse to listen to you apologize for something that is out of your control. Your life was decided before you met me and I am nothing but grateful that I got to appear in some part of your story."

He tilted his head and pressed a small kiss into the hand that was still holding his chin.

"God I’ve missed you." He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist.

"How long are you here? I’ve got to teach class.. It’s the first day but I’d love it if we could catch up?"

He laughed at you and your knees buckled at the sound of his happiness.

Taking his chance he pressed his lips to yours and you could feel the smile forming on his face.

"I’m your private lesson Jagi, I’ve booked you for the next two weeks."

Taking a step back you had to ask, "How Jungkook? What will you be giving up?"

Pulling you back to his embrace he began to dance with you.

"There is no more giving up, on anything. Our contracts were over and I only had one thing I wouldn’t negotiate on, that’s you." 

He guided you to look at the mirror.

"I wrote you something."

~Please call my name one more time

I’m standing under the frozen light, 

but I’ll walk step by step towards you

Still with you ~

"I promise I’ll never let you go again."

[ickle-ronniekins]

cosmic destiny

request from nonnie!! “Hello! I love your writing, I was wondering i could request something for Fred. Maybe a soulmate AU like matching tattoos or you can see how in danger tour soulmate is with a meter or Hanahaki situation? I love your writing sooo much!”

pairing: fred x reader

word count: 4.5k OOPS

A/N: hi love! SUPER CUTE PROMPT, i adore soulmate aus. so i actually did a fred soulmate au with tattoos which you can find here so i figured i’d do something different for this prompt, hope you still enjoy :) also, wtf, i feel like my writing sucks here, soooo feedback, reblogs, comments, anything please? gah ty

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @cottageoflove @laneygthememequeen @waschbiber @dreamer821 @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 | message me to be added loves!

When Fred Weasley heard all of the girls talking animatedly and breathlessly at the welcome feast about the prospect of finding their soulmates this year, and taking turns eyeing him up and down as if they were certain he was theirs, he couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably in his seat -- his brother, George, elbowed him gently in the ribs, laughing at his twin’s skittishness.

Fred just sighed. The entire Great Hall was erupting with whispers and wandering eyes and annoying giggles. Each and every fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh year were hungrily searching for, and awaiting, their soulmate, for they would find them before the end of the school year. Or, at least, that’s what the Weasleys had told the twins.

He pretended not to care, he really did -- when his older brothers started chatting him and George up at the Burrow this past summer, and as Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione listened with amazement, Fred had sealed his lips without giving anyone a word. The others had just laughed, keen on taking advantage of this very quiet Fred.

Fred just stayed as quiet as he could. Because everyone knew how he felt.

The problem was, as much as he tried to hide his feelings about the whole prospect, Fred certainly cared. Actually, Fred seemed to care all too much.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to find his soulmate -- he wanted that more than anything. But if he was being honest, he was terrified.

Terrified of finding the woman he’d spend his life with. Terrified if it turned out to be someone he didn’t expect. Terrified, he knew, if it ended up being someone other than you.

Fred had always been a confident bloke, there was no denying that, but when Mrs. Weasley had pulled him into a bone crushing hug on Platform Nine and Three Quarters before they’d departed for school and squealed, “Oh, Freddie! Do bring her home for Christmas, yes? I’ll have to knit her a sweater!” Fred suddenly felt very pressured to bring home a nice girl. Not that he could help it, really. It wasn’t exactly up to him as to when this year his soulmate would appear, or who his soulmate would be. But he could hope. Maybe he could even will it into existence, if he tried hard enough. He swallowed his feelings and boarded the Hogwarts Express, ignoring the fact that seventh years specifically were supposedly going to find their soulmates before the holidays.

He’d always fancied you, and he always thought he made it rather obvious, actually. His flirting was top tier, his compliments heartfelt and consistent -- blimey, you two had even danced the entire night away at the Yule Ball, flushed and giddy from the Butterbeer and dazzling Christmas decorations that illuminated the Great Hall. And yet, the two of you were still not together. Not technically, anyway.

Not for lack of trying on his part, though. How many times had it been that he’d done some over-the-top prank and landed himself in another detention, just to impress you? How many times had he asked you to take a stroll in Hogsmeade? Bloody hell, to have tea at Madam Puddifoot’s? More times than he could count, embarrassingly.

It’s not that you didn’t like him. He was your best mate. What wasn’t to like? That adorable, disheveled ginger hair of his, the constellation of freckles sprinkled across his nose, the very obvious way he could always make you laugh with the nonsense he’d get himself into, the way his face would split into a bright smile at the sight of you -- there really wasn’t anything to dislike, if you were being honest. On the flipside though, there was the whole possibility of ruining the friendship thing, and also the finding your true soulmate thing. There were too many contributing factors, and you didn’t want to lose your best friend. And besides, there was no way that Fred Weasley was your soulmate.

Little did you know, he had a plan to prove that you were.

-- -

“Oi,” Fred whisper-shouted in the dorms one evening. “George, hey! Wake up, mate!”

It was nearly three a.m., and both twins had to be up in just a few short hours for their first day of lessons. A muffled groan came from the bed across from Fred’s. “Fred, I swear to Merlin if you keep talking, I’m going to go and get Ginny and you’ll be on the receiving end of one of her Bat Bogey Hexes.”

“First of all,” Fred began, illuminating the room just a smidge with the light of his wand, “I can take my little sister. Secondly, I’ve got a plan.”

George opened one eye. “A plan? You’ve woken me up in the middle of the night to tell me you’ve got a plan?”

“Yeah,” Fred started, puffing out his chest and looking rather confident indeed. He wet his lips and continued, “A plan to convince Y/N that she’s my soulmate.”

George could not help the involuntary laugh that escaped him. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, mate, but I’m not sure that’s how it works -- see there’s this little thing called cosmic destiny. I’m afraid the universe has your soulmate already picked out for you, no matter how much you continue to embarrass yourself in front of our best mate.”

A thwap! noise echoed in their room when George was hit on the side of his head with a few pillows. He reckoned he had that coming.

“I don’t care about this.. cosmic destiny you speak of, Professor Trelawney,” Fred teased. “I know she’s the one. I’ve known it since we met her. And I’m going to convince her, and then the stars will align.. or whatever,” he said in his best Sybill imitation.

“Merlin, someone’s gone all soft and romantic.” George laughed. Another pillow flew his way but he caught it in midair and placed it behind him. George yawned dramatically and fell back into the massive amount of pillows he now had on his bed. “Whatever you say, Freddie. But please, can the plan wait until morning? Perhaps once I’ve had a few cups of coffee?”

Unfortunately, Fred thought to himself, now fully awake and raring to go, it would just have too.

-- -

When he spotted you rounding the bend in the corridors, no doubt heading to your double Arithmancy lesson (you were adorable, but why on bloody earth would anyone choose to take Arithmancy in their seventh year, let alone doubles?) Fred seized his opportunity and pushed passed his brothers and the sea of students congregating near the Transfiguration classroom. Didn’t these people have somewhere they needed to be?

He ran in the complete opposite direction, hellbent on getting to your classroom before you did. Out of breath after pushing past students and professors alike, he leant himself casually against the wall in the corridor, ran a hand through his messy hair, and took a few deep breaths to slow his breathing. Three, two, one. Like clockwork, you were. You appeared suddenly in the corridor, a gentle grin on your lips that only seemed to radiate extreme giddiness when it split your face into a very large smile.

You stopped in front of him and dropped your bag onto the floor before checking your watch. “Five minutes til the bell,” you said, raising your eyebrows and locking your eyes with his. “Impressive, Weasley.”

He shrugged. “What can I say?” he asked smoothly, wiggling his eyebrows at you and pulling you into a quick embrace. “How’s my favorite girl?”

“I’ll be better once this dreadful lesson is over.”

“Ah -- regretting the double Arithmancy, are we?”

“Never, ever let me make stupid decisions again. Promise?”

Fred laughed at this. You really didn’t know what you were asking, did you? He was the King of stupid decisions. You were adorable, nonetheless. “Fine, but you owe me,”

Your eyebrows threaded together and you held back a snort. “Oh Merlin -- let’s hear it, then.”

“You, me. The Three Broomsticks. This weekend.”

Even when you rolled your eyes back into your head, Fred couldn’t help notice the hint of pink that flooded your cheeks, and the gentle tugs at the edges of your mouth. You were always horrible at holding back a grin.

“One day,” you said breathily. “It took you one day into the new year to ask me out. George owes me three galleons,” you winked.

Fred brought a hand to his chest in a very dramatic fashion, but laughed anyway. It was the same every single year -- it took him less than a week into the new term before he was flirting obnoxiously and doing his very best to get you to go on a date with him. “You and my stupid brother placed bets on how long it would take me to ask you out?”

A smirk suddenly appeared on your face. “It was his idea; I just wanted to win some money.”

You were about to slip into the classroom when Fred positioned himself in front of you, his six foot frame swallowing you whole. You brought a gentle hand to his cheek and his breath hitched at the contact. How was it you were always able to get his heart thumping dramatically? “Freddie, love, we’ve been over this.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at you again. “Darling, you can’t possibly call me love and expect me to believe that you don’t want to pull me into a broom cupboard and snog me senseless.”

“I’ve so very much missed your confidence over the summer holidays.”

“Bet you���ve missed more than just my confidence.”

You both laughed a bit, and then you took a step back from him. The solemn look in his eyes was more than telling -- he wasn’t backing down without a fight, just like every other year. “Fred, we’re going to find our soulmates soon -- what is the point --”

“ -- the point is, Y/N, that you are my soulmate.”

You were a bit taken aback at this; you placed your arms across your chest and raised an eyebrow at him. His self-assuredness was rather alluring, but you couldn’t just believe that. It’s not like either of you had a say in the matter, no matter what your hearts yearned for. You opened your mouth to speak, but silence hung in the air between you both. He took a step closer toward you, and you could easily smell his cologne, for he was now only centimeters away. He gently placed a hand on your shoulder and his lips to your hair, “I will wear you down, Y/N.” It was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the steady pounding of your heart. He scooted himself out of your way, squeezed your shoulder, and said before disappearing down the corridor, “and I will prove to you that we are meant to be together.”

-- -

Things this year were not turning out how Fred would’ve liked. There was some strange, irritating woman dressed in all pink who seemingly wanted to take over Hogwarts, and she kept shutting him and George down each and every time they wanted to have a bit of fun and showcase their products for respective students. Lessons were nearly kicking his arse, if he was being honest, because he could hardly focus on school work. All he could focus on was that awfully insistent Ravenclaw that had his eye on you.

Worried now that he was no closer to convincing you that you two were meant to be, he was becoming desperate. Ginny and Ron enjoyed this very much, because it wasn’t very often that Fred let others see his vulnerability.

The twins were on route to Potions for a miserable, gloomy Wednesday afternoon; the only thing that even slightly brightened Fred’s spirits was the prospect of seeing you just a few tables away. “George, how many different ways d’you reckon there are there to find your person?”

“How d’you mean, mate?”

“You remember what Charlie told us over the summer holidays,” Fred piped on. He slid into his seat and lowered his voice, so as not to piss off Snape in the corner of the room, who was watching the students enter the classroom. “People find their soulmates all sorts of ways, don’t they? Pretty sure Charlie mentioned someone he knew finding his through matching tattoos, or something -- what d’you think?”

“I.. haven’t really thought much on it,” George told his twin truthfully. “Not really sure, to be honest. Mum was so bloody excited she barely gave me any idea of what to look out for. But I reckon they’re all different, right? Can’t say I’ve ever seen a tattoo anywhere on myself -- unless it’s in a secretive sort of spot.” George winked. He wanted to make Fred laugh, but it was a lost cause now, as you’d just entered the room and sat yourself down across from them both.

It wasn’t unlike Fred to become both more cheeky, and an absolute pile of mush around you.

“Hi there, love,” Fred said casually, leaning against his books in front of him. He tapped his cauldron playfully. “Blow things up here often?”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” George stifled a laugh. “If you’re going to flirt, at least be good at it.”

The all too familiar dreadful monotone suddenly filled the room, and everyone went quiet. “Silence……..Mr. Weasley, or I’m afraid you’ll find yourself in yet another detention. Not that that’s particularly… unlike you, is it?”

A few Slytherins started to laugh at Snape’s passive aggressive comment, and George huffed in his seat and pulled his spellbook out of his bag. But Fred hardly moved; instead he stayed where he was, drumming his fingers against the desk, letting his eyes wash over you. “Now, if you’ll open up your spellbooks..”

When Snape’s attention was turned toward a few bored looking Ravenclaws, you scooted closer to the twins and whispered, “Easy there, Fred. Don’t want to go getting on Snape’s bad side so early in the term, yeah?”

As Fred watched you run your painted fingernails along the words in your spellbook, muttering incantations to yourself as if you were studying for another lesson in the middle of this one, he reckoned getting on Snape’s bad side for you would be absolutely worth it.

-- -

“That’s barbaric! Harry, we’ve got to go to Dumbledore,” Hermione insisted.

Everyone was sitting around in the Gryffindor common room, peering at Harry’s red, scabbed, and bloodied hand. Looked as though he’d just come from a detention with Umbridge.

“I can’t believe she can get away with this. Bloody Ministry will do anything!” Ron cried, inching his way closer to Harry on the couch to get a better look. “Fudge is in over his head.”

George scoffed. “Doesn’t help that our stupid prat of a brother is filling the Minister’s head with nothing but praise for his ideas,”

It was unfortunate to see the toll that Umbridge was taking out on everybody. Each and every person close to Harry wanted to report Umbridge’s so-called disciplinary actions, but Harry insisted not too. He didn’t want to bring any light to it; not that anything would help the situation. Dumbledore staying Headmaster was just about as likely as Draco Malfoy not being a foul git.

“Harry,” you said gently, placing a hand to his knee, “I’m so sorry. Let me fix it up for you, yeah?”

Harry nodded thankfully, and Fred watched as you carefully tended to Harry’s hand. Of course. You’d wanted to be a Healer ever since he met you -- and probably before that, too. He couldn’t help but grin foolishly at your compassionate touch, and Harry’s appreciative glance. Fred felt his heart soar so high, he would’ve married you right then and there.

Later on, once most everyone had gone to bed, Fred spotted you near the fire, sipping on a cup of tea with your nose in a book. “Hey,” he said, placing himself next to you. “That was really nice what you did for Harry, you know.”

“Oh, ‘twas nothing anyone else wouldn’t have done,” you waved him off. “Besides -- it’s good practice. Madam Pomfrey says I should try and do as much as I can, if it isn’t a dramatic injury, just to get my feet wet. You know?”

Fred nodded; there was something about your empathy toward others that sent him into a dizzying type of feeling. He adored how softhearted you were. How good-natured. You always had been, ever since he knew you; ever since that time you seemingly nursed him back to health after a nasty bludger hit his shoulder during a Quidditch match during your fifth year.

“How’d this happen, Freddie? You’re normally so on top of Quidditch.”

“Was distracted.”

“By what?”

“By you, darling.”

He remembered your small laugh and eye roll as you’d gone and grabbed him a cup of tea; you’d even helped him carry his spellbooks to class everyday.

“D’you reckon this is something… a girlfriend does?”

“Fred, I have absolutely no problem hexing you, even with your broken shoulder.”

You two were sitting so close now. He was peering at you with what could only be described as “googly eyes”, and he could swear that the rise and fall of your chest was a little bit heavier than normal, as was the tension hanging in the air between you both. Maybe, he thought, that repeatedly asking you out wasn’t the way to go. Maybe he just needed to really go for it --

Just then, Ginny hopped through the portrait hole, looking positively dreadful. Her hair was a disheveled mess, and she kept scratching at her hand. “Gin?” Fred asked, his older brother demeanor immediately kicking into gear. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Ginny said brightly. If it hadn’t been for her disgruntled look, you both never would’ve known she was upset. “Just got caught up in the library working on an essay. See you for breakfast,”

But something felt strange to you. As you watched Ginny ascend the stairs to the girls dormitory, you noticed her hand was red. It looked as though she’d been scratching at it for hours. She noticed your lingering gaze, and quickly slid her hand into her pocket. Had she been in detention with Umbridge, too?

To Fred, though, this seemed to go unnoticed. He was already back to inching his way closer to you, a copy of the latest Daily Prophet clutched tightly in between his fingers.

-- -

“I’ve got it,”

Fred was sitting next to George, Ron, and Harry in the Great Hall during the feast. You, Hermione, Ginny, and a few other Gryffindors were down the other end of the table, no doubt discussing the prospect of soulmates (a few of the Gryffindor Quidditch ladies had found theirs). Fred felt his insides constrict. He just had to go for it already, didn’t he?

He’d missed the chance to kiss you that night in the common room, the night Ginny had come in looking slightly off. And he certainly didn’t want to kiss you in front of all of these people, especially if there was rejection involved. Fred had always been confident, and he knew, deep down, that you felt the same way he did. But there was always that tiny twinge of self-doubt..

So instead, when he spotted Umbridge acting like a right git to some poor little Hufflepuff who was eating at the Ravenclaw table, he knew he had to spring into action. Especially because this sweet Hufflepuff was now awaiting a very disturbing detention.

“Got what?” George asked, mouthful of cauldron cake. Very stealthily, Fred used his wand to shrink a canary cream and slowly send it over onto Umbridge’s plate. Her cronies were nowhere in sight, and everyone in the Great Hall seemed to be distracted; he honestly wasn’t surprised that it went unnoticed. It grew back to its regular size on her plate, and Fred took a steady deep breath, knowing that in just a few moments, your beautiful sounding laugh would echo across the Great Hall.

“Merlin,” George began to curse under his breath. “Mate, those are prototypes! If she finds out that was us -- “

“Relax, Georgie, would you? It’s like you doubt my expertise,” Fred rolled his eyes, biting his lip in anticipation as Umbridge relaxed herself back into her seat, an air of arrogance surrounding her. She took a slight sip of her tea, and bit into what looked to her like a regular custard cream.

A loud shout engulfed the room, followed by the unmistakable laughs of students from every single house. Umbridge had transformed into a very large canary, causing Professors to jump up, appalled, students to stand on the tables in applause, and you to widen your bright eyes in admiration.

Fred savoured those five seconds in which Umbridge was not dressed in her normal obnoxious colored pink outfits, but instead was sporting very bright yellow feathers and an orange beak. But almost as instantly as it had happened, she returned to her normal self -- her hair askew and in every which direction, her clothes an absolute mess. “Who is behind this?!” she shrieked.

George stealthily high fived his twin underneath the table. Fred, actually seemingly impressed with himself that he was able to pull this off, got up from the table and maneuvered his way through the sea of students to get to you. He sat himself down next to you, his legs facing out toward the middle of the Great Hall, his arms leaning back onto the table. “So?”

“Quite the diversion you’ve caused there,” you replied cheekily, stirring your tea with your spoon and peering into his eyes with nothing but respect in yours. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that my favorite bird is a canary, would it?”

Fred scoffed. “Love, you act as if I do these things just to impress you, you know?” He elbowed you playfully and then his lips formed a very serious, thin line. “But yes, it has everything to do with the fact that your favorite bird is a canary. And I absolutely do all of these things just to impress you.”

You shook your head and leaned in closer. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

In his attempt to get you to profess your love for him, and the fact that he couldn’t hear anything else but the blood pounding in his own ears due to your compliment, he’d missed the fact that Filch had been watching from the sidelines, and had told Umbridge exactly who was to blame for the canary cream incident. She had George by the ear in one hand, and pulled Fred to his feet with the other. “Detention, the both of you!”

“Fred,” George grunted through gritted teeth, “if this detention alone doesn’t kill us, consider yourself dead, mate! I’m going to kill you!”

You pressed your lips together and attempted to stifle a laugh as Umbridge pulled the two of them out of the Great Hall rather dramatically. The cheers from the students (and some Professors, actually) and the soft, sympathetic glances from you were everything that Fred needed to keep him afloat as he wandered into this detention which held nothing but dread. “Reckon it was worth it, Georgie.”

-- -

Fred Weasley normally didn’t regret things. But this, he did. His bloodied hand was looking worse as time went on, and the scowl from his twin wasn’t helping this detention to move along any quicker. He wrote again, on his parchment, with Umbridge’s stupid special quill, I must not be a burden.

Pft, burden. The woman was a bigger burden than he’d ever be. Finally, the clock struck eight, and he and George were released back into the corridors, both of them rubbing feverishly at their swollen, scarlet-colored hands.

“What d’you say we try and sell more of our products tonight?” Fred asked his twin, trying to lighten the tension in the air.

“Yeah,” George replied, running his fingers over the scabs that were now scarring. “Maybe after I kill you.”

Fred rolled his eyes; he wasn’t going to hear the end of this one.. not for a long, long time. George popped through the portrait hole, and just as Fred was about to enter, he heard his name echo across the moving staircases.

“Young girl heading your way!” said one of the talking portraits cheerily. Fred’s eyebrows threaded together until he spun around, only to be face to face with you.

“Are you alright?” you asked before examining his hand. “That woman is vile, I tell you. Pure vile.”

Fred laughed; the sight of you alone seemed to make him feel that much better. But then he noticed your own hand -- raw and red, as if you’d been picking at it for hours. “Don’t worry about me, what happened to you?”

Fred couldn’t help but notice the way your cheeks went very, very pink. You flushed easily with embarrassment, and immediately shoved your hands into the robes of your pocket. “Oh, erm -- funny story, actually -- “

And then something hit Fred straight in his gut. The words that Charlie had spoken when he’d been telling his siblings about soulmates, and all the ways they could find one another -- when you write on your skin, it shows up on your soulmate’s skin.

Yikes; that could’ve been wonderfully romantic; and yet, here you both were, remnants of Umbridge’s right awful detention plastered on both of your hands -- what a bloody awful way to find out who your soulmate is! However, the feeling of adrenaline coursing itself through his veins at the sight of you, unraveling his thoughts, only seemed to intensify his feelings.

And suddenly, Fred forgot all about the pain in his hand; he forgot about all of those times he’d put himself out there and had been rejected by you for fear of ruining the friendship. He couldn’t even remember a time when he wasn’t so head over heels for you. “Well would you look at that?” he asked, peering down at the very faint words of I must not be a burden on your own hand. “I reckon I’ve found my soulmate. Cosmic destiny, and all that.”

You huffed a bit, but sized him up still. “You’re never going to let me live this one down, are you?”

“Not quite, love. Not disappointed, are you?”

“Disappointed? Never.” You replied dreamily. After a haughty laugh, you leaned in closer, softly pressing your lips to his ear. “Guess you were right, Weasley. You did wear me down.”

His lips met yours in a fiery explosion, and you suddenly both realized how hungry you were for one another. But just as you were both going to hop back through the portrait hole and run up to your dormitory, Fred pulled away and groaned.

“What is it? Not quite living up to your expectations?” you teased.

“Oh no, believe me, it’s better than,” he winked. “I’ve just realized something, though.”

“What?”

He groaned again. “My mum’s going to knit you a Weasley sweater.”

[alilbihh]

tomorrow (forever) | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: it's only after two of your best friends get married that you and jungkook realize maybe marriage isn't that bad of an idea at all.

words: 2.3k

genre: established relationship!au, fluff, jungkook is just! a fool in love!!

a/n: I just love him ok!!! wanna kiss his nose!!!! and i took way too long to actually finish smth for the bingo. sdjksdgkj. ty for reading

The thing is, you predicted this marriage not too long ago. Or maybe it wasn't long ago at all.

It's one thing to be there when Hoseok and Yoongi are stupidly, densely in love with each other, with exchanging looks and lingering touches and letting them cry on your shoulder because they were in love with their best friend and didn't know what that meant.

It's another thing entirely, though, to be nursing a glass of wine offered to you in a tray and a well dressed waiter, poking at the decidedly uncomfortable dress digging into your side, watching the couples dance and the group of middle aged uncles cheer and the unwilling children skirt around their mother's dresses as they urge them to say hello.

You think you're tired but the buzzing in your ears tells you you're not. Hoseok keeps going around showing off his ring finger and Yoongi keeps kissing his knuckles and Jimin won't stop crying from even before the vows were said and it's all very dramatic and emotional and you can't stop smiling.

Jungkook's probably off somewhere to both charm and gain the favor of unsuspecting grannies, and when you strain your eyes to look sure enough, an older woman with too many rings and kind eyes is leading your boyfriend to a table of fruit slices and punch, probably saying something like eat, eat, you're too skinny, even though he probably has more muscle than actual flesh. You've seen this situation before.

The granny in question is shoving an entire cornucopia in his hands and watching expectantly, and you think you can pinpoint the moment he spots you watching him, eyes lighting up and his smile widening and this little bounce in his step he does when he's excited and can't quite hold it all in. You're so fond you don't think you can hold it all in, either.

He's hurriedly setting down the fruits and bowing respectfully at the granny before rushing towards you, first a walk then a jog then too-long strides that isn't quite considered a run and make him look so ridiculous you can't help but laugh. He's laughing when he reaches you, too.

Jungkook gently takes a hold of your hand, and you set down your glass of wine so he can take hold of the other, swings them around lightly,

"Y/n, hello, hello," he says, grins, clears his throat so he can push down some of the fondness leaking through his tone before finding that he doesn't need to and saying, "Did I tell you how beautiful you look?"

(Which is-- a ridiculous thing to say, really, because-- he's the one who drove you two here, and the first thing he said when he saw you was a mumbled wow and he's complimented you, like, three more times since then, and it's-- a lot. You just love him a lot.)

You pretend to think, hum lowly and say, "Huh, I can't recall. Might want to say it again."

Jungkook grins, never stopped, gently pulls you up, up, mumbles against your forehead, "Well, let me be the first to tell you that you look stunning."

You adjust his tie slightly, brush off his tux, grin something goofy and lopsided. "You look quite dashing yourself, mister Jeon. Very smart."

His hair is a bit disheveled, not quite as put together as it was when he first arrived, and when you squint you think there's a weird stain on his dark suit that's barely visible but still very much there that you're sure he, himself, has no idea of its origins. His eyes are a little wild and he's probably a bit tipsy. He's the prettiest man you've ever seen.

"Hmm," Jungkook hums something teasing, grins teasingly, too, "Will I look more smart if I start doing math problems here and now? Will it arouse you?"

You slap lightly at his chest as he laughs, "Shut up, nerd," you say but it doesn't come out nearly as menacing as you wanted it to. "Did you drink already?"

"Duh. Everyone did." As if on cue, Seokjin waltzes by in all his pink suited glory, hugging a wine bottle to his chest and whining to a nearby uncle about the extreme lack of kitchen utensils in the establishment. Someone should probably go control him.

"Where's Namjoon at a time like this?" You say, seconds before your eyes widen and you continue with a low, "Don't tell me he's drunk? Oh no. Drunk Namjoon is not a good Namjoon."

Jungkook winces, too, probably also recalling that one time Namjoon got drunk, barfed his guts out on a nearby tree, then started aggressively speaking spanish to it, in that order. You didn't know Namjoon knew spanish. Namjoon didn't know he knew spanish.

"It's.. not a good time." Is all Jungkook says.

You're both still standing in a corner by the bar, wrapped up and spewing nonsense to each other, and you think there's something you could say here, something to fill the silence, but this is nice, too. Like there's no need to fill it at all.

He's just started swaying you both to the music completely out of rhythm, something a bit slower than the upbeat song probably chosen by Hoseok, when the song abruptly cuts off, Taehyung tap, tap, tapping at the mic, someone that you think is the dj distantly yelling complaints.

"Alright, time for our dear friend Yoongi to throw the bouquet! Whoever's interested can line up, come, come, come!"

When you look over Jungkook's shoulder you see a very blushy, very displeased Yoongi and a very delighted Hoseok nudging him forward, the shorter man clutching at the blue and white flowers in his hands. Seokjin is cackling hysterically.

"Y/n-ah!" Jungkook gasps, swinging your arms around like a madman, "I wanna catch the bouquet!"

You snort, because of course he does, "Isn't that a lady thing?"

He scoffs, "That's dumb. Since when do I adhere to social norms." He's bouncing in place again, glancing from you to the dance floor and back, where a small group of women have gathered. You laugh.

"Go, go, I'll watch from here," You say and he sprints, and you watch with a laugh because--really, he stands out like a sore thumb, the tallest of them all, a black tux amidst a sea of colorful dresses. Yoongi's standing on a small podium, his back facing them all, preparing to throw the bouquet, and you think you can see everyone holding their breath in anticipation.

The whole situation is so immensely endearing, a small congregation of women with their hands already in the air, Jungkook doing little hops despite being able to easily see over all their heads.

You're so wrapped up in your thoughts, with the idea of what you'll do when Jungkook comes back all pouty and empty handed, that you don't really process when it happens; Jungkook springing into the air, clutching the bouquet to his chest like a lifeline.

He turns, grins victoriously, waving his newly acquired bouquet in the air, says something along the lines of look, look, Y/n-ah, look, I caught it, I caught the bouquet, but your brain just kind of-- short circuits.

Like yes, maybe it's just a bouquet, just a silly tradition for people to think they're meant to get married next, but that's exactly it. Jungkook caught the bouquet. That means he's meant to get married next.

By the time Jungkook reaches you, the thought marriage marriage marriage has kind of already wrapped itself around your head, echoing mercilessly. What if this were your wedding? Would you cry during your vows, like Jungkook most definitely will? What if you two were the ones to decorate the venue, to argue over its color scheme, to taste test wedding cakes until Jungkook tastes sweet sweet sweet. If every time you held hands you'd feel the smooth line of a ring, if you could look down at your ring finger and remember how much you love, love, love.

Jungkook's still looking at you expectantly when you come to.

"Um." You blink. "Congrats."

"See? I told you I could do it." He runs a finger over the petals, brows furrowed, mumbles a low what kind of flower is this, inspecting them seriously, completely unaware of your inner turmoil. And you feel kind of-- overwhelmed, maybe, of this boy, this beautiful boy, and wonder if maybe he feels the same way, maybe he'll want to spend forever with you, too.

Jungkook's still talking when you snap out of it, "...And then I was like, I'm gonna do it, and then hyung was like, don't do it, and then I was like, why can't I do it, and then he said something about it not being a good idea? I was honestly shocked. When do I not have good ideas."

"Preposterous." You say, just to have something to say.

"Absolutely preposterous." He nod nod nods, and you wonder when you both started swaying, the song already something softer and slower.

"I'm gonna," you breathe, "Gonna get a drink, I think."

"Oh! Me too, me too. Let's go," He takes a hold of your hand, which is-- devastating, really. Here you are, trying to escape the thought of marrying your boyfriend with your boyfriend following you. Devastating.

You trail behind as he leads you back to the bar, keeps holding your hand while he orders for you both, tilts his head and says whaddya want, baby? And it's, just. Devastating.

You feel a bit like how you did in your first date, just toeing over the line between friends and lovers, wondering what to do next. Feel a bit lost but not quite, feel comfortable where you are, but at the same time kind of want to be introduced as Jungkook's spouse. And kiss Jungkook's ring. And--

"Hey," Jungkook breathes into your ear, laughs when you jump, "What're you thinking so intently about?"

"About how to get you to never do that again." You stick your tongue out at him. He does the same.

"C'mon, c'mon, tell me," he says, giggling sporadically, shuffles his chair closer to yours. He looks like he wants to keep going but his eyes widen suddenly, something like the beginning of a bad idea in the glint in his eyes, "Hey, hey, I just had an idea."

"Yeah?" You grin, wave the bartender over when you see him with your drinks.

Except when he's about to set your drink down, Jungkook leans in close and--"Let's elope," and you, one: flail your arms, two: choke a little, and three: knock over your drink.

Jungkook's too busy laughing to both acknowledge and explain himself, so you're left to profusely apologize to the very confused bartender and aggressively wipe napkins over the counter. It's a mess.

"Jungkook!" You hiss once the bartender goes away, "You can't just-- why!"

"Because it's fun," he giggles, cheeks tinted rosy gold.

"What just happened?" A voice says suddenly overhead, and when you turn you see an equally confused Hoseok rightfully worried over what's going on at his wedding. This is probably the first time you've seen him away from Yoongi the whole night.

"Y/n just spilled her drink." Jungkook tattles immediately.

"I did not-"

"It just flew everywhere, all over the place. There was an avalanche of it. People were swimming in it, slipping in it, they're considering calling for a nationwide rationing of wine just to make up for—"

"Shut up, I hate you," he grins, and what you say is rendered ineffective when you let your boyfriend pull you close to kiss your temple.

Boyfriend. Because—you're not married. But maybe that's not the worst thing in the world, suddenly.

It's a few hours later, the venue growing more spacious, more empty, when you bring it up again-- Jungkook already beside you, tracing a nonsensical pattern over the back of your hand. You don't think he realizes what he's doing. The thought makes you so endlessly fond.

"Guk?" You mumble. He hums in question, head tilting to give you his full attention.

"Wha'sit, baby?" He drawls.

You breathe. There's some confetti stuck to his hair, and you laugh softly before plucking it out. He just grins and lets you, ducks his head before watching you through his lashes. You run a hand through his hair, then, the gel already having disintegrated into his skull or whatnot, fringe sticking to his forehead. He closes his eyes. Looks so pretty you might just burst.

You let in a breath. Let it out. Count to three. Say-- "That's where we're headed, right?"

It takes a second, then two. Jungkook opens his mouth, as if to say something, closes it. Looks around, and you think you can pinpoint when he realizes you're not talking about home, at least not in the literal sense.

He cracks a smile, lets out the softest laugh. "Oh, baby," he coos, kisses your knuckles once, twice, thrice, lets out the goofiest grin. "Of course, Y/n-ah, my baby. We're in this together, hm?"

(There's hints, later, too-- sometimes he'll be eating cereal and randomly say maybe yellow would be nice for our wedding, sometimes you'll walk past jewelry stores and he'll give you this soft little nudge of presence. Sometimes he'll stare a few seconds too long at your empty ring finger.

You wonder, wonder when he started saying when, when we get married, not if. Wonder when he started being so sure of it, this fiercely sure thing. Wonder when you started agreeing without much thought.

You're not engaged, not quite yet, but your heart kind of-- swells, when you think about it, that one day you will be, maybe not too far from now.

Tomorrow, though-- tomorrow. Right now, you're content as it is. You can figure out forever tomorrow.)

[mistymazzello]

Illicit Affairs | chapter 4

Joe Mazzello x Reader

summary-Y/N, a failing actress in New York City, is offered an internship as Joe Mazzello’s assistant on the set of a movie. Her seemingly small crush on her boss could get her into trouble, but what does she have to lose?

word count- 6.1k (i got a little carried away)

warnings- smut, unprotected sex, all that stuff. (by reading on you’re confirming that you’re 18+😳)

a/n- i promise this last week and i’m just now posting it and i’m SO SORRY. pls let me know what you think!

based on illicit affairs by taylor swift

September turned over to October, bringing cold weather and days that slowly became shorter. You were done trying to stop your feelings for Joe, there was no stopping how you tirelessly obsessed over him. It made it worse that it almost, almost felt like he was reciprocating. But still, not quite. 

Joe finally started lightening up on scheduling, giving everyone a few days off every now and then and not having extremely early call times. This meant you weren’t leaving the apartment at 6 in the morning and coming back at 8 anymore, leaving time for you to be around your roommates. Now, did you want that time? Not exactly.

Cameron had hardly spoken two words to you since everything that happened the previous month, leaving an awkward tension always hanging around the apartment. One morning, the sky completely gray, leaving the city shakingly cold, Cameron walked into the kitchen while you stood on the phone as you poured coffee.

You were talking to Julia, who had called you to ask if you had any time to do some of her busy work for her, which you weren’t necessarily sure if you did, but you agreed to anyway. The phone call ended with her making some Fleetwood Mac reference that you didn’t understand, but you laughed either way. You hung up and set your phone down as you slowly stirred your coffee, Cameron sitting on a stool on the other side of the counter.

“Was that the director?” She asked softly.

You looked up, slightly stunned. “Um, no. Producer.” You answered.

She furrowed her eyebrows. “What does he want?”

“She just has some things that she needs me to do today.” You said. It was weird that she all of the sudden was trying to talk to you.

“So you like working on the movie then?” She asked.

You blinked. Was she trying to actually talk to you? “Yeah, I love it. I think it’s great.”

She nodded. “You think the movie’s gonna be good?”

You could’ve smiled. This was the first conversation the two of you had in weeks. You had to admit, you missed your best friend. “Yeah, actually it looks really good. I’m excited for it.” 

You pulled another mug from the cupboard and poured the rest of the coffee you had made into it, sliding it across the counter to her. She accepted it, picking it up to wrap her hands around it.

“I’m sorry that I got so mad.” She said, looking into her mug. It was a little late for an apology, but still, you accepted.

“It’s okay. You were upset.” You shrugged. 

She nodded and took a long sip from her coffee, still never looking up to meet your eyes.

“So can we stop being weird now? I miss how things were.” You said, setting your own mug on the counter.

She laughed slightly. “Yes. I was hoping we could stop doing this.” She smiled.

You sighed in relief and finally, things were normal. How they were supposed to be. Things felt more in place than ever as you went to set that day. Today was supposedly going to be very easy, but you had a sneaking suspicion that you were going to be there rather late.

Just as you had suspected, before you knew it, the sky was turning dark. Joe finally called it a day at 8, much to everyone’s relief.

“Go get some sleep, kid.” He hit the back of your head with his clipboard playfully.

“First off, ow.” You laughed, holding your hand to the back of your head.

“Have a good night, Mr. Mazzello.” Beck spoke as he pulled his jacket on.

“You too, Mr. Beck.” He saluted him.

A loud sigh escaped your lips as you wistfully watched him walk away. Why did he have to be so nice to you?

Something you had noticed was how close this cast and crew was. You weren’t as involved in that closeness as you would have liked to be, but you figured it was because you were much younger than all of them, and you were just about at the bottom of the food chain in terms of power.

You saw a few cast members congregating near Joe, so you decided that you weren't going to interrupt to tell Joe goodbye, you figured you could just text him something about heading out instead.

A little ways away from you, Joe saw you waving bye to a few people and his heart sunk. Before thinking, he cut off one of the actors who was talking. “Hey, do you care if I invite Y/N?”

A few people turned around to look in your direction, luckily you had your back turned to them.

“The intern?” One of them asked.

Joe quickly realized how desperate he must have sounded asking like that. “Yeah,” He said, shrugging, “She’s nice, I think you guys would like her.”

He wasn’t lying about that. He knew everyone would like you, and you were nice. But he wanted to invite you because he desperately wanted to spend more time around you, specifically outside of work.

They all agreed, and the conversation moved forward about the bar that they were going to that night. Joe excused himself and jogged over to you, right as you were about to leave. 

You saw him coming out of the corner of your eye and you turned in his direction, smiling. “Hey, I was just about to go.”

Disregarding what you said, he asked, “Me and a few people from the cast are going out for drinks, do you wanna come?”

“Tonight?” You responded, a bit taken back. You were a little too excited to be receiving this offer, but you tried your hardest to conceal the smile that was already on your face.

“Yeah.” He said, “I think we’re just gonna uber there in like 20 minutes.”

You weren’t used to receiving invitations like this, especially since you left college. “Oh.” You said, trying not to sound like a complete spaz. 

“So if you wanna stick around, I can tell you when we’re leaving?” He said, his hands in his pockets as he rocked onto his toes.

“Yeah, sure.” You smiled, wringing your hands together. 

He nodded and looked at the ground. He could hardly believe the way he was acting right now, it reminded him of high school. He was acting like a complete idiot, all because of you. All because of that stupid smile on your face.

“Oh,” he remembered, “and don’t tell Beck. He’s not invited.” He winked before walking away. He really shouldn’t be picking favorites like this, but how could he help it when one of you was a stuck up asshole and the other one was as sweet as you were?

Regardless, you were glad he liked you. It gave you some sort of validation for your feelings, even though deep down, you knew that your crush on him was hopeless.

When you showed up to the bar, it was freezing outside, yet incredibly warm inside. By the time you were shedding your jacket, which was only seconds after sitting down, Joe had ordered shots for everyone, saying that you had to take them in honor of the 12 hour day you had just worked. There were about 11 or 12 of you, spread out between a few booths. The bar wasn’t terribly busy, taken that it was a Wednesday night, but still, this was New York City, so places were always bustling. You were sat by Julia and a few of the other girls, subconsciously clinging to Julias presence like she was your mom. You got talking with a few of them, all of them remarkably talkative. The girl across from you, Charlotte, who was probably the closest to your age out of everyone, began talking to you about the internship.

After you explained the whole situation about how you got the internship, conveniently leaving out the part about Cameron, you were about to ask her about how she had got casted, but she spoke first. “You know, everyone loves you. No offense if he’s your friend, but I think I speak for everyone when I say we prefer you over Beck.”

“Oh, god, he’s not my friend.” You laughed. “He hates me.”

“Oh my god,” Her eyes lit up “He hates me too! I’m always like, dude, you need to calm the fuck down.” She said, picking up her drink to take a sip.

“Me too! He always says I’m unprofessional.” You frowned.

“I think he has some personal issues he needs to sort out.” She said.

“Mommy issues.” Julia piped up before finishing off her glass.

The three of you laughed, the attention shifting swiftly over to the girl sitting next to Charlotte, Lola, who was whispering something in her ear. 

“Oh, god, Lola, don’t be gross.” She groaned.

Lola pulled away and grabbed her drink off the table then looked back at Charlotte. “Wish me luck.” She smiled.

You tilted your head slightly as she stood up from the table, walking slowly over to the bar. Wondering what she needed luck for, you tried not to stare as she approached the bar. You didn’t pay any mind to Joe, who was standing next to her, until she began to talk to him.

Your face flushed as you realized what she was doing. She was trying to flirt with Joe. It wasn’t until you looked back at the table until you realized that Charlotte and Julia were both looking at her, too.

Julia looked back and you exchanged a glance. “Is she...?”

“Trying to sleep with Joe? Yes.” Charlotte said, looking slightly disgusted.

You didn’t say anything as you looked into your drink, swirling the glass around as you contemplated your defeat. She was at least 7 or 8 years older than you, much closer to Joe’s age, an established actress, and much more in his league. All at once, you began to realize how stupid you were for ever thinking you and Joe had something between you. 

“She could get into big trouble for that.” Julia chided. “It’s in the contract that all of you signed. No relationships.”

“Does fucking count as a relationship?” Charlotte set her chin in her palm.

Julia chuckled. “No, I guess not, if it’s not ongoing.”

“Ah, then she has a chance.” Charlotte said, all three of you turning your attention back to the two of them.

Over at the bar, Joe's mind was scrambling. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what Lola was doing. He’d seen it a million times. He wanted to be nice, but he wanted to cut this off before it went any further and he had to reject her. He had been waiting for the right moment to approach you without making it seem like he was hitting on you. He genuinely just wanted to talk to you.

But, as the minutes passed, Lola was not taking any hints. She continued to talk, continued to touch his arm playfully, even though Joe was reciprocating none of it.

Julia ended up leaving within the next 30 minutes, saying something about how her partying days were far behind her. You and Charlotte stayed at the table, ordering drink after drink, giggling as you talked about your past relationships, it almost made you forget about what was going on across the room.

“I have you beat on the worst breakup.” She laughed. “A guy once broke up with me after I flew across the country to see him. On my birthday.”

You gasped dramatically. “No.”

“Yes.” She laughed. “Arguably the worst day of my life.”

The two of you sat, giggly and tipsy, for a few quiet moments. “Why didn’t I know you were so fun?” She asked “I feel like we’ve hardly ever talked before and we’re around each other everyday.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. I just feel like a bit of an outsider because I’m so much younger than everyone.” You opened up. If you didn’t have any alcohol in your system, you would have never said this to her.

“Aw,” She frowned “Like I said, Y/N, we all love you. Everyone always mentions how sweet you are.” 

“Really?” You smiled.

‘Yes, really. Especially Joe. He never shuts up about you.” She said. 

You looked into her dark eyes and tilted your head. “What? Really?” Your heart could’ve jumped out of your chest.

“Yeah, he’s always like ‘Oh, I’m gonna wait up for Y/N. Have you seen Y/N yet today? Y/N this, Y/N that” She imitated him, her hands waving around as she did a horrible impression of his voice.

You laughed a little, your smile never faltered. Was she telling the truth? Did he talk about you so much that she had noticed it?

You finally remembered the whole Lola thing, your eyes glancing over the bar. Now they were sitting down, she was leaning over to him, talking, as he took a drink. You sighed and looked back at Charlotte, who was downing the rest of her third or fourth drink.

“I should probably go pull her off of him.” She sighed, her eyes following yours over to the bar. “She’s drunk as fuck, she needs to go home and maybe try again when she’s not wasted.”

She gave you a pat on the head, making you smile, as she stood up. “I’ll see you on Saturday.” She said, giving your head one last pat before walking over to the bar. You watched as she came up behind Lola, resting her hand on her back and giving her a soft smile as she spoke to her. It was obvious that Lola was resisting, but Charlotte was persistent, and she eventually hopped off of her chair and followed her. The two of them waved to you as they walked out of the bar, you gave them a quick grin and waved back. You almost sighed in relief. You had finally made some friends.

Joe was now sitting by himself at the bar, and you alone at the table. As long as you didn’t try anything like Lola did, you didn’t think it would be weird if you went and sat by him. Maybe that was the alcohol talking, but you still got up and walked over to him, pulling the stool out to sit down next to him.

When he had originally heard the stool next to him move, he thought it was just another girl trying to talk to him, and he almost let out an exasperated sigh. But it wasn’t just another girl. It was you. Instead, he sighed in relief.

“Hey, kid.” He said, taking a drink from his beer.

“Hi.” You said, scooting the chair in.

“You have fun?” He asked, setting his beer down to turn to you.

“Mhm.” You nodded. “Charlotte’s so nice.”

“Good.” He gave you a closed mouth smile. “I’m glad.”

You realized that you had left your drink back at the table when you all of the sudden had nothing to do with your hands. Joe must have noticed at the same time, because just as you were about to order something, he beat you to it.

“Can we get two shots of fireball?” He asked.

“Oh god.” You set your face in your palm. 

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to drink it.” He said.

“What, you’re going to take both to try and impress me?” You giggled, setting your forearms on the counter.

He shook his head with a small laugh as the bartender handed them over. He set one in front of you and one in front of him.

“Okay.” He started. “Truth or drink.”

“Oh,” You smiled “I can do that.”

“Ladies first.” He smirked, crossing his arms as he looked at you. It almost felt like he was taunting you, his arms almost making you drool as they stretched out his shirt.

You smirked back. Only thinking for a quick moment, you knew what you wanted to ask. “When’s the last time you slept with someone?” You asked, a cocky look on your face. Even if you were crossing a line by asking that, you could hardly care. It felt hotter than it did when you had first gotten there, but that could be coming from the warm feeling in your cheeks from the alcohol. Or because you were blushing. He wasn’t going to answer something like that to you.

He tilted his head slightly, looking at the shot. “Last month?” He estimated. You were a little bit shocked that he answered, and that he didn’t hesitate to do so.

Your eyebrows must have been raised or your eyes must have been wide, because he asked, “What? Did you think I was gonna say 3 years ago?” 

“What? No,” You laughed “I just… who?” You asked, almost out of instinct. Almost out of jealousy.

“Nope. Not your turn.” He shook his head. He leaned closer to you, prompting you to lean closer to him. “If you had to have sex with one guy in this bar, right now, who would it be?” He said, his voice low, even though no one around would be able to hear anyways over the buzz of the crowd. 

You hummed in thought, turning away from him to look around you. “I think…” You started, turning back to lean forward into him “the bartender down at the other end is cute enough?” You lied.

Joe’s jaw clenched. He didn’t know what he expected, but he couldn’t help but be disappointed. Before he could respond, you cleared your throat, unbeknownst to him that you had noticed his reaction. 

“My turn.” You smiled. You went back and forth for a little while longer, desperately trying to ask a question to get the other person to drink, but nothing worked. The bar was loud, there were lots of people around, but still, you could only see each other. You could only feel the way his shoulder was rubbing against yours, you could only smell the whiskey on his breath and you could only think about how much you wanted him right now.

A few rounds later, it was Joe’s turn. He could feel the heat radiating from your face, and he thought your top was ridiculously low cut. Especially when you leaned over the bar. The way your knee would bump his was driving him crazy. It prompted him to come up with this question.

“What’s the oldest you’d be willing to sleep with?” He said, his expression straight and serious.

You reached to rub the back of your neck under your hair as you thought. Your heart began to quicken as you thought of all of the possible responses, until you finally settled on what happened to be one of the most risky answers. “Well,” You began, subconsciously leaning in so you were closer to his face, “How old are you?”

His jaw clenched again, but this time, not out of anger or jealousy. Out of lust and pent up desire.  “Oh,” He said, his hand which was already brushing your knee moved from his leg to ghost over the top of yours. “Is that how it is?” His hand came to rest on your thigh, and he slid it so it was just slightly underneath your skirt on the inside of your thigh. 

“Joe,” You breathed, closing your eyes as you clenched your thighs, trapping his fingertips. 

“Yes?” He spoke softly into your ear, his voice low and sharp.

“Please.” You pouted, still not opening your eyes. His hand was warm on your inner thigh, but not as hot as the heat radiating from under your panties, which you thought Joe could for sure feel.

Just like that, he ripped his hand away from you, earning a whine from your lips as you leaned your head back. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, your eyes watched his hands intently. He pulled out a 50 and tossed it onto the bar, then stood up. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you off your chair. “Let’s go.” He grumbled, lightening his grip on your wrist to let his hand slide into yours. He practically pulled you out of the bar, and even though it was a cool fall night outside, you were still burning up.

He hailed a cab quickly as your head spun by how quickly things had turned. Even though both of you were as horny as you had ever been before, he still opened the taxi door for you. You climbed in, settling in the seat on the opposite side of the door before Joe climbed in, telling the driver his address quickly before moving to the middle seat to immediately grab your inner thigh roughly. Your hand wrapped around his bicep, you squeezed his arm to try and distract yourself from the wetness pooling in your underwear. His grip was deathly and his breathing was harsh as the two of you sat in heated silence. You had to physically try to stop yourself from making any further moves on him, opting to rest your forehead on his shoulder. In a moment of sweetness rather than lust, Joe kissed the top of your head lighty. Although the moment did make your heart melt, you still couldn’t focus on anything other than how badly you needed him.

“How far are we from your apartment?” You lifted your head up to whisper.

“Like 2 minutes.” He said. You let out a low, short groan. 

“I know, baby.” He whispered.

You had decided that this had been the longest two minutes of your life. Between the way Joe’s legs kept twitching, to how his hand was slowly moving up your thigh, riding your skirt up, you were almost on the verge of tears by the time you pulled up to Joe’s apartment. He handed the driver some money, mumbling something about keeping the change as the two of you climbed out.

He grabbed your hand and you both tried not to sprint into the apartment building. The elevator ride was almost as excruciating as the taxi. You couldn’t keep your hands off of each other, his hand moving from the small of your back to squeeze your ass, earning a sharp breath in from you.

He fumbled with the key as he tried to unlock his door as quickly as possible. As if you could get anymore impatient, you were 2 seconds away from ripping the key out of his hands and doing it yourself when he finally opened the door, grabbing you by the fabric of your shirt and pulling you inside. It was pitch black, the only light coming from the city lights outside the windows. Using the grip he had on your shirt to turn you towards him, he pulled you into him. He kissed you messily, slowly backing you up until your back hit the door. It was a mess of clashing teeth and tongue as you desperately kissed each other, all of the pent up desire coming out all at once. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you stood on your toes to kiss him, his hands moving from your hips to your ass. He slid one of his hands down to the underside of your thigh, lifting your leg up so your knee was at his side. He growled into your mouth and you could only manage a whimper, your mind scrambling for a single coherent thought. He lifted his leg slightly to rub against your core, his jeans creating a rough texture. Instinctually, you grinded against his thigh, but your movements were limited as he had you pinned against the door.

He broke away, moving his lips to bite your earlobe. You let out an exhausted moan, dipping your head back to hit the wooden door behind you. He lifted his leg higher at this, almost lifting you off your feet by your core. 

“Joe” You sobbed, your fingers pulling at his hair. You felt him smile against your neck.

He moved his head back up to kiss you again, this time his hands on both sides of your face. This kiss was slower, but just as passionate. He pulled you to the bedroom, not bothering to turn on any lights on his way there, opting to find his way in the dark. You already noticed that he had a habit of pulling you by the fabric of your shirt. Something you could definitely get used to.

Once you did make it to the bedroom, he wasted no time pushing you backwards onto the bed. Your back bounced against the mattress and you sat up on your elbows as he crawled on top of you, meeting your lips again. He grabbed both of your hands and held them for a second, then slowly moved them so they were pinned above your head. His grip wasn’t tight, but it was enough to keep you in place. 

He pulled away to hover inches above your face, both of you panting. “I’m gonna ask you this, and I’m only going to ask you this once.” He said darkly, his voice overcome by lust. 

You nodded eagerly, yet still staying silent.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He asked deeply.

You nearly moaned at the tone of his voice. 

“Need to hear you say it, baby.” He growled.

“Yes” You cried, begging him to do something.

That must have been a tipping point for him, because he let go of your wrists and tugged at the hem of your skirt, pulling it along with your underwear down and off of your legs. He tossed them to the ground and grabbed you by both of your thighs, lowering himself so his head was in between them. 

He groaned as he looked at you, his grip slightly lightening as he admired how wet you already were. He placed a kiss to your lower thigh, looking back up at you. You were splayed out on his bed, your hair hanging in your face, your chest heaving. A sight he could get used to.

From there, he wasted no time diving in between your legs, licking your clit as he wrapped his arms tightly around your thighs, moving your legs so they were over his shoulders.

Your head was spinning as you slammed it back against a pillow on the unmade bed. You were hardly processing what was going on, your vision was blurry and your thoughts all bled together, the only thing you could feel was Joe.

You writhed underneath his touch, bucking your hips. His large hands laid over your stomach, holding you down. “Sit still.” He mumbled against you, the rumble of his voice pulsing through your entire body. You tried to still your hips, unable to stop them from twitching from pleasure. 

His fingertips dug into your thighs as he began holding you tighter and tighter. He only ever touched your clit, only using his tongue, but it was more than enough for you. One of your hands was tangled in his hair, and the other was holding onto the pillow under your head. In the distance, but still at an embarrassingly fast rate, you could feel your orgasm coming on. 

He must have sensed that you were close, or took a hint from the way you swirled your hips and pulled at his hair, because he smirked against you, then immediately pulled his head away.

“Joe” You whined, your grip on his hair loosening quickly.

He shook his head lightly, climbing back on top of you. He put his hands on either side of your head, and admired you under him for a second, even though you looked slightly disappointed. He leaned down to kiss you slowly, taking the feeling in.

As much as he would love to bask in that feeling and kiss you for the rest of eternity, he didn’t know how much longer he could take not fucking you. He pulled your shirt over your head without warning, leaving you in nothing but your bra.

Deciding that the ratio of clothes-taken-off was uneven, you reached for his belt buckle, grabbing him by the back of the neck with your other hand to pull him back down to kiss you. You fumbled with his belt buckle, trying to figure it out how to get it undone with your eyes closed.

Joe sighed into your mouth, pushing your hands away from his belt to do it himself. You giggled slightly, causing him to try and suppress a grin as you kissed. He took his belt off and you heard it hit the hardwood floor, followed by the sound of his pants unzipping. The thought of what you were about to get nearly made your eyes roll back in your head, the wetness spread across your inner thighs only growing.

You pulled the hem of his shirt up, breaking away from the kiss for only a second to allow him to pull it over his head, disregarding it with the rest of your clothes on the floor. Your fingers danced along the waist of his pants for a moment, then you slipped your hand inside. Joe was an extremely smooth kisser, but his rhythm was interrupted when you cupped him over his underwear, making him stifle his movements. You smirked and held him slightly tighter, making his arms nearly buckle as he groaned into you. 

He let your little power trip last for a few more seconds before he grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand away from him. He grabbed your other wrist with the same hand and then held your hands over your head. He let go, but you held your hands where they were as he pulled his pants and boxers off.

Normally, in a situation like this, one you had been in times and times before, you would feel vulnerable. Laying naked on someone else’s bed while they undress, completely and utterly at their demand. But, for some reason, you felt safe and taken care of. You felt so secure in his touches as he set his hand on your thigh, moving himself to settle in between your legs. 

He looked at you, your hands above your head as you looked back at him expectantly. He couldn’t help but pump himself a few times before finally lining himself up to your entrance. He reached up and set a hand by your head, the other holding his shaft. He stalled for a moment, taking time to look down at your pussy, sliding his tip up and down your slit. 

You lifted your hips expecting him to push himself inside of you. “Please.” You whispered. 

He looked back up at you, then leaned over you further, so his face was inches from yours. “Please what, baby?”

You reached up to set a hand on his broad shoulder which was flexed from holding himself up. “Please fuck me.” You begged. 

He chuckled lightly. “Aw, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask.” He smiled. He pushed himself into you, and months of tension suddenly came undone. 

He bottomed out, and your grip on his shoulder moved down to dig your nails into his shoulder blade. You shut your eyes and pushed your head further back into his pillow. “Oh my fucking god.” You staggered. 

Joe couldn’t find it in himself to move right away, basking in the feeling of filling you up. He had thought about this exact moment too many times to take it for granted. 

You took the liberty to move your own hips in a circle, causing him to grunt into your ear. He pulled out nearly all the way, then moved back in slowly. 

As much as he wanted to take his time with you, the girl he had been obsessed with for the last 3 months finally underneath him, he began to feel himself losing control. His pace quickened at an insane rate, making you want to cover your mouth to try and stifle the ungodly moans coming out of you. 

He lowered his head into your neck as he moved his hips against yours, making you lean your head back to expose your whole neck to him. 

You felt him bite you softly, making you yelp in surprise. Heart fluttering, your cheeks flushed as he kissed your neck harshly. He began to slam into you harder, moving your whole body with every thrust. Red marks began to form on his back where you had dug all of your nails into his lower back. 

His pace only got rougher and rougher as time went on, only making things more and more passionate. 

“Joe, oh my god, please don’t stop, please please please please.” You rambled out of bliss. The feeling of build-up from earlier made a return as he lifted himself up, his hands on either side of your head. 

He grabbed your thigh and held it up close to his hip, trying to find a better angle for you, he could tell you were close. He realized he had gotten that angle when you yelled out his name, arching your back into him, your voice broken and raspy. 

“You close baby?” He asked his tone unrecognizable from the one you normally knew. 

“Yes” You cried, grabbing into his hair unintentionally. 

He lifted your leg over his shoulder with a grunt, hitting an unimaginable spot. He grabbed your throat to force you to look at him and leaned over you, his nose nearly touching yours. “Come on, give it to me, Y/N.” He growled. 

Your vision went white as your orgasm hit you. Your jaw dropped open as he watched you come undone around him. Your whole body pulsed as you gasped for air. He let you come down from your high, riding it out roughly until your eyes fluttered open again. 

All at once, he pulled out of you and grabbed your ankle, yanking your leg off of his shoulder. He grabbed your hips and flipped you over onto your knees, then grabbed you by a fistful of your hair and pushed your head down into the mattress. He began slamming into you again, the aftershock of your orgasm not even close to being over yet. You couldn’t do anything but let the tears welling in your eyes spillover as you cried his name over and over. 

He pounded into you, his teeth gritted as he pushed your head further down into the bed. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, especially not with you like this. He yanked your hair up and pulled you close to him so he could talk into your ear. 

“Do you know,” He spat with gritted teeth “how long I’ve waited to fuck you like this?” He wrapped an arm around your body to rub circles on your clit, his other hand moving you grab you by the throat again. “Having to see you, every. Fucking. Day. And not being able to have you? I thought I was crazy, Y/N, crazy for wanting to do the things I wanted to do to you. Things like this. But now I can see,” He began losing control of his body, his rhythm slowing as he could feel himself about to come “the feeling was mutual.” 

He came inside of you as your second orgasm hit you out of nowhere, causing you to topple over as his movements slowed, your cum mixing with his. You moaned breathing in and out as he slowly came to a stop. “I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you.” He sighed. 

“Fuck.” He breathed. You sniffed and let out one last sob before he pulled out, causing you to wince. The rest of your body collapsed onto the bed as you panted, trying to catch your breath. He fell onto the bed next to you, the only movement you were able to manage was moving your hands up to wipe the tears off of your face. 

Joe reached over and held you by the hip, pulling you to face him. He wrapped an arm around you to splay a hand in between your shoulder blades and moved the other to cup your cheek. His eyes moved from your eyes to your cheek. He stroked his thumb across your face to wipe the tears from your cheeks, your eyes fluttered shut under his touch. “Are you okay?” He spoke softly. 

“Mhm.” You hummed lightly. You pressed a hand against his chest and moved to set your forehead on his shoulder. He rolled onto his back and you laid your head against his chest as he wrapped his arms completely around you. 

Neither of you said anything, the room silent as your breathing slowly synced together. Joe couldn’t wipe his stupid, blissful smile off of his face as he rubbed your back lightly. 

You couldn’t think about anything other than his heartbeat under your ear. Not the contract you signed, not Lola or Beck, not how much money you had and not how Joe was your boss. You only thought about the heartbeat you heard and the boy who owned it. 

-

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[some-jw-things]

For me personally, one of the hardest aspects of leaving a cult was how it fucked up my perception of love.

“Love-bombing” is a recruitment technique. You walk in through that door for the first time, and the entire congregation can’t wait to greet you and befriend you and they’re sometimes actually counting every minute they spend speaking to you so they can log it in their service report. You are offered instant love from a whole new community, for seemingly nothing, just for being there. Not earned, not gradual. Everyone in a Kingdom Hall loves one another

There were brothers and sisters I had never spoken to directly and that I didn’t know the names of. I was told since I was born that I should be willing to give my life and die for any one of them, no exceptions whatsoever. You aren’t allowed to dislike or openly have any issues with anyone in the congregation because of this specifically.

And then on top of this, we’re taught that only Jehovah’s Witnesses have love among themselves. There’s approximately 20 Bible verses they use to back this, they talk about the moral atrocities of every other religion as proof but of course the Society has never had a scandal ever— at least not one we were told about, and with the “don’t read outside sources” doctrine, they can get away with anything. They can get away with painting themselves as the only true, pure, morally upright religion in existence

When I said I was leaving, my dad told me straight up that I would never experience love again in my life. Only Jehovah’s Witnesses has that.

I know it’s easier to explain and more relatable for worldly people when we talk about the sky burning in Armageddon, friends and family falling and dying by our sides, going underground to live in a bunker and hide from the government, facing permanent eternal death— all those things that the Society has promised us, and we can point to and say they’re terrifying. It’s easy. It’s understandable.

The part that’s harder to explain is that I’ve expected my whole life that I’ll die young but the idea of living completely alone and unloved for however much longer I have— that kept me in a lot longer than the other stuff did. It’s a very effective control mechanism, being told that no one will ever genuinely care for you outside of this group

And then there’s the shit that Witnesses do to family relationships

At varying points in time, I have been fully convinced that the only things keeping my mother from leaving my dad were the congregation punishments and financial concerns. It’s a bit like their marriage came straight out of the 1940s: divorce is a sin, would get them disfellowshipped, and my mom doesn’t have the money to live on her own even if she could. My dad doesn’t do any of the housework whatsoever— all of that gets pushed to his wife and children. My mother blames herself for this, because apparently it’s her fault for “spoiling” him when he got badly injured twenty years ago. My dad, being the head of the household, has the final authority on any of our decisions he chooses to involve himself in, despite knowing almost nothing about what’s going on with us at any given time. The disparity of the housework wouldn’t be so bad, but my parents both work full time, not just my dad.

A few years back, my sister and I were in an extended period of anger over this. We weren’t outright trying to convince mom to leave dad (her main defense being that she was getting older and she had made her choice years ago), but it came damn close. My sister asked mom to name three things she loved about dad.

A half hour later, she didn’t have any.

She loves my dad, in the way a Christian wife loves her Christian husband. She couldn’t name any specific way, but she insists she does. She will never leave him.

They love each other. I know this. I don’t understand it.

I was terrified by the idea of marriage since I was eight years old. For Jehovah’s Witnesses, marriage is in no way between equals. I’ve gotten in trouble for implying that men and women could be equal. Marriage under this system means an even bigger loss of autonomy than I already had. The JW idealized loving relationship looks like hell to me

I said earlier that I was going to talk about familial love but I got sidetracked by romance, I’m coming back to it now

Familial love is completely 100% conditional. A JW will receive love if and only if they adhere to a strict set of terms. Upon violation of the terms, all love will be immediately revoked.

When a Jehovah’s Witness leaves the religion, their friends and family are supposed to shun them. No contact whatsoever, through any medium. If the ex-JW is an adult, they’re supposed to be kicked out of the house. If they’re still a minor, they are allowed to continue living there and communication is allowed only as far as it is needed for household functioning

This is love for Jehovah’s Witnesses. It is instant, enduring, boundless, to the extent of being willing to give your life for one another within seconds of finding out someone is a fellow brother or sister.

Until you commit a sin. Sinning makes you unlovable, here.

A girl I grew up with was kicked out, homeless, not even given time to pack a bag, because she fell in love with a worldly boy and interfaith dating is not allowed. This had nothing to do with any sexual sin. The boy just wasn’t a Jehovah’s Witness, and that was enough.

There was a man who left the congregation years back, along with his wife. He contacted his mother a few years later and wanted her to meet his kids. He wanted them to spend at least one day together. She told him very bluntly that she wanted nothing to do with him or his family anymore. She relayed this story in service, and everyone comforted her and told her how strong she was, how proud Jehovah must be.

Romantic love is bound up in rigid rules. You do not sit next to someone of a different gender unless you’re engaged or close to it. You don’t go on dates without a chaperone, you don’t spend even a minute alone without a chaperone. Texting and dating have a blurred line, so that needs to be policed. If you date for over a year, then you’re leading that person on. You’re a spinster or a bachelor by age 25. Divorce is a sin. Divorce will get you disfellowshipped.

There was a woman in my congregation who went to Bethel and met a man there. They knew each other for two weeks before getting engaged. And divorce is a disfellowshipping offense. There were so many older couples in my congregation who had stories like that, who had dated for only a handful of months, and I guess they love each other like my parents love each other

We’re told that disfellowshipping is a loving arrangement. Shunning is an expression of love. It’s spiritual rock bottom: it’s meant to be the wake up call that makes you realize how badly you need God and the Org. It’s meant to be incentive to repent, start following all the rules again, and beg for reinstatement. You want to see your loved ones again, don’t you? And they want to see you. That’s why they’re doing this, see, because they love you and care about you.

In the cult, love is used almost exclusively to hurt people.

[svtwritess]

Chapter 1

➬ warnings: sexual content

➬ word count: 6.2k

➬ pairings: wonwoo x reader, mingyu x reader, joshua x reader 

➬ genre(s): fluff, angst, smut

➬ college!au, vampire!au

You loaded the last of your boxes into the moving truck and stood at the back of it contently with your hands on your hips. Finally, you were off to university, and with your best friend of 20 years nonetheless. Everything the both of you needed seemed to be in the truck and the things that needed to be secured with rope or tape were fastened properly. With a great effort, you reached up and pulled the door of the truck down and locked it, entrapping all of your things safely inside before you headed into your house. 

You entered your house, feeling relieved as the air conditioning overtook your body. Loading the truck had made you quite sweaty. You heard your and Wonwoo’s parents in the kitchen, so you made your way to the spacious room. Upon entering, you saw both sets of parents leaning against the counter by the sink, and Wonwoo on the island next to none other than his male best friend Joshuaz

The pair met the first day of your freshman year of high school and they instantly became best friends. They were both pranksters but responsible enough to know when to stop. They loved picking on you together the first two years of high school, but in the beginning of your third year Joshua became much more mature, seemingly in the blink of an eye. Over the summer, his face became more structured, he grew taller, and he had large muscles in places he didn’t seem to have any muscle at all in before. Naturally, you found yourself attracted to him, and him to you, but neither of you dared to make a move because of your joint friendship with Wonwoo. You didn’t want to make anything awkward for him. However, at a beginning-of-year party that one of your school’s basketball players held, you found yourself hooking up with him in a dark and desolate bedroom. The only person you had ever kissed before him was Wonwoo, and that was when you were both in elementary school. You didn’t have sex that night, the two of you just made out with Joshua initiating some light petting. You liked it. You really liked it. But you and Joshua made a pact not to do it again and to never tell Wonwoo. 

Though, of course that didn’t go as planned. You hooked up a few more times, but you only ever did so at parties. It then got to the point that you’d sneak over to one another’s houses in the middle of the night, the activities the pair of you would partake in becoming more and more sinful with every visitation until eventually, you lost your virginity to him. He was kind and gentle and non-judgmental; he was the perfect first time. And second time. And third time. And fourth time. 

After your fourth liaison, when you both realized there was no end in sight, you decided it was time to tell Wonwoo. You brought him his favorite food and watched a few episodes of his favorite food with him before breaking the news. Needless to say, he was furious. He kicked the both of you out and didn’t talk to you for two whole weeks. During those two weeks, you and Joshua couldn’t find it in yourselves to do anything close to hooking up, so you kept your distance as well, only conversing when one of you would ask the other if they’d heard from Wonwoo. 

After a little while, Wonwoo forgave you, but for some reason continued to keep his distance from Joshua. You never knew why. But on the day of graduation, when everybody was congregating and celebrating in the middle of the football field, the two males made up with a simple hug. They probably realized that they only had one summer left together and didn’t want to spend it holding whatever grudges over each other. You were happy that they made up, but you decided it was best to not see Joshua in any way other than a friendly one after that, and he agreed. Though you had many aroused and lonely nights over the summer and Joshua was less than a mile away, you kept it to yourself.

That’s why Joshua hopping off of the counter and running over to pull you into a hug caught you slightly off guard. You hadn’t seen him since graduation day, but you knew him and Wonwoo hung out all the time. It didn’t bother you, you knew they needed bro time. 

You hugged Joshua back with a small smile and felt him lean down so his luscious lips were level with your ear. 

“I’m gonna miss you when you leave.” he said quietly and you chuckled. 

“You were fine without me the past three months, I’m sure you’ll do just as well the next four years.” you replied.

“Who said I was fine without you?” he inquired, and before you could ask what exactly he meant, he pulled away from you with a smug look on his face. Your cheeks were very obviously red from his unclear words, but you shook it off for no other reason than because your family and best friend were in the room and you had to. 

You reeled your thoughts in as you walked over to Wonwoo and your parents, Joshua returning to his spot on the kitchen island. Wonwoo gave you a look that said he knew something suspicious had happened between you and Joshua, but he wasn’t about to bring it up in front of your families. 

“Well?” your mom questioned causing everyone in the room to look at her, “Are you guys excited to head off to college tomorrow?!” she was very clearly excited for the both of you, even though you knew she’d miss you and tell you that far more often than necessary. You’d miss your home and your family as well, but you were extremely excited to move out, live with your best friend, and finally get to experience independence. 

“Well duh.” Wonwoo responded playfully, his deep voice coating your eardrums. 

“Are you guys living in dorms?” Joshua asked. You shook your head in response.

“Nah, we found an apartment off campus that we’re gonna live in,” you said and Joshua just nodded.

“Well, when something happens, just remember to use protection.” Wonwoo’s dad said as he brought his cup of water up to his mouth to take a sip. Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s mother nearly spit out her beverage at her husband’s remark, hitting him on the arm while the rest of you tried to stifle your laughter. 

It wasn’t an awkward thing to joke about, really. You recognized that Wonwoo was attractive, but having been friends for such a long time and seeing him do so many weird and disgusting things, being attracted to him was something you never really thought about. He’d always thought you were pretty as well, but again, he expected those few kisses the two of you had shared because of triple-dog-dares at the age of 7 to be the only times he did anything more-than-friendly with you. 

“Okay, I think I’m gonna go upstairs and clean up.” you announced to the group. You bid Wonwoo’s parents goodbye with a hug and did the same with Joshua, though his obviously felt much more sexually tense. 

You made your way toward the stairs, Wonwoo unknowingly in tow. 

“Am I spending the night?” he asked, startling you beyond belief. You clutched your chest and held onto the railing as you turned to look at him. He had a small smile on his face and a curious look in his eyes. 

“Yeah, if you want,” you said as you turned back around, the two of you continued up the stairs. “It’d be easier since the truck is over here.” you said nonchalantly, and Wonwoo simply nodded. 

He followed you into your room and plopped down on your bed, instantly pulling out his phone and beginning to scroll through it. 

“Can I shower and eat here too?” he asked, glancing over at you as you rummaged through your drawers to find some pajamas. You settled on a slightly cropped black t-shirt and some checkered pajama shorts.

“You know the answer is yes, you’ve been doing that stuff since you were 5. Why do you feel the need to ask?” you chuckled as you closed the drawer, standing up straight to look at him. He merely shrugged.

“I don’t know, we’re just older now, so it feels a bit weird you know? Being up in each other’s houses all the time,” he stated, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Well we’re about to move in together, so get used to it!” you shouted as you headed toward your bathroom. 

“That’s not what I meant!” he yelled back as you shut the door. You just laughed at him, put your pajamas down, and turned the shower on. You took off your clothes and checked to make sure it was a comfortable temperature. When you stepped inside, you let the warm water consume your body and mind. 

You tried not to think about Joshua’s “who said I was fine without you” line or his extraordinarily good looks and instead tried to think about the people you could potentially meet at school as you washed yourself. Maybe, hopefully, you’d meet a guy or girl that you really liked there. Joshua was really the only person you’d done anything with, and though you’d done plenty, naturally you wanted to broaden your horizons. Would you hook up with a bunch of people at frat parties? Would you meet that one person who you’d pine over and think about constantly until finally they admit their feelings for you? Would you be stuck with only Wonwoo as a friend due to lack of interesting or attractive people on campus? Only time would tell. 

You finished washing out the conditioner that remained in your hair and turned off the water. You reached for your towel, drying yourself off to the best of your ability before stepping out of the shower and putting your clothes on. You continued to dry your hair with your towel as you left the bathroom and headed to your bedroom. 

The second you entered your room, Wonwoo spoke.

“Why is Joshua blowing up your phone?” he asked, voice stern with your phone in his hand. You really didn’t have an answer, so you wished he wouldn’t get upset about it. 

“I genuinely have no idea.” you told him. You hung your towel on the corner of your door and walked over to your vanity to grab your brush. Wonwoo, not proudly, made it a point to look at your ass as you stepped, being careful not to get caught. Just because he was your best friend didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate your ass, in way too short of shorts nonetheless, from a distance. 

You quickly ran the brush through your hair, being sure to part it properly and get all of the knots out before walking over to Wonwoo and taking your phone from him. You rolled your eyes. 

“He only texted me 4 times!” you said, “You’re so dramatic...” you trailed off as you unlocked your phone, Wonwoo looking over your shoulder. You opened the messages app. 

[5:46pm] it was really great to see you today :)

[5:46pm] you look even better than i remember

[5:48pm] listen... if not it’s totally cool, but do you think i could see you tonight? 

[5:48pm] i figured there’s no harm in hooking up one more time before you leave haha, so yeah just let me know ;)

Before you could do or say anything, Wonwoo grabbed your phone from you and bolted out of your room. You ran after him, nearly slipping as you began to chase him.

“WONWOO!” you screamed, following him down the stairs as fast as you could, “GIVE ME MY PHONE!” He ran past your parents in the kitchen and they merely gave the situation a glance, they were used to it. Wonwoo went to go through the door that led to your garage, but you caught him before he could close the door and snatched your phone from his strong grip. He groaned in defeat and threw his head back. 

“God please don’t say yes to him! This is supposed to be our night before college.” Wonwoo whined, a pout on his face. You shot him a glare. 

“Isn’t he your other best friend?” you asked and Wonwoo nodded. “Then why don’t we just invite him over to hang out with the both of us?” you suggested. Wonwoo grunted and pushed past you, exiting the garage. You followed him, closing the door behind you and walking quickly to catch up with him. “What, are you not gonna answer me?” you questioned, but again, no answer. 

When you got up to your room and closed the door, you brought up the situation again. 

“Is it really that crazy of an idea?” you said as he sat against the headboard of your bed. You sat at the end by his feet and put your phone down. You heard his head hit the board behind him and saw him close his eyes and let out a sigh. 

“It’s not, and I would be happy to do it if I didn’t think he’d try to fuck you in the same room as me.” He opened his eyes and looked at you knowingly. You knew that the scenario Wonwoo had proposed was very likely. You would never try to pull something like that, but Joshua would, and knowing how weak you could be sometimes, there was a slight chance that you would give in. 

“Okay listen,” you scooted toward him, “I promise you that nothing even remotely suggestive will happen between Joshua and I tonight.” You held out your pinky and waited for Wonwoo to link his with yours. He let out a sigh and picked up his head, interlocking your pinkies and pressing your thumbs together. 

“Fine.” he stated. 

You smiled widely and reached over to grab your phone that was still by his feet. 

to: joshua

[5:58pm] come over tonight and hang out with the both of us instead :) it’ll be fun, i promise

Joshua arrived at around 8:30pm. He was nice enough to go out and pick up some food for the three of you, knowingly purchasing you and Wonwoo’s favorite snacks. You had on your pajamas, Wonwoo had on black joggers and a forest green sweatshirt, and Joshua wore a form-fitting black t-shirt and grey sweatpants with a silver chain resting on his chest. You knew the second you saw him that it would be a long night for you. 

Your parents were in their room for the night, so you set up some blankets on the floor of your living room in front of your TV, the snacks laid out in front of the three of you in an organized line. 

You picked up the remote and scrolled through Netflix trying to decide what to watch. As you searched, Wonwoo picked up a blanket and lifted it up so it spread out in the air. He covered the two of you with it and you sent him a look. 

“I don’t wanna use that one.” you told him. He quirked his head in confusion. 

“This is the best blanket in your house!” he said passionately, causing you to chuckle. You shook your head no and grabbed the big down comforter that rested behind the snacks. It was a tan color and made a swishy noise when you touched it. You spread it out over yourself and Joshua, earning a jealous and disapproving glare from Wonwoo. You would feel bad if you were planning on doing something with Joshua under said blanket, but since you promised your best friend that nothing of the sort would happen, you felt no remorse. 

You came across the movie “Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark”, and since you all loved action movies, you unanimously decided to watch it. Though right as you pressed play, Joshua spoke up. 

“Oh, y/n! I put some soju in the fridge when I got here, would you grab it?” he asked kindly. You nodded with a smile and a small “Mhm!” before pausing the movie, getting up and heading to the refrigerator. For the second time that night someone was looking at your ass, and it wasn’t Wonwoo. Joshua checked you out shamelessly as you went to get the soju, his bottom lip finding its way between his teeth. Wonwoo, noticing his male friend’s wandering eyes almost immediately, reached over to smack Joshua’s arm with no restraint. 

Joshua whipped his head around with a look of surprise on his face, but said nothing as you were sitting down beside him with 3 bottles of soju in your hands.

“One for you,” you gave a bottle to Wonwoo, “one for you,” one to Joshua, “and one for me.” you smiled happily as you opened the bottle right away and brought it to your lips. As you chugged the somewhat bitter liquid, you remembered you hadn’t eaten anything since before you started packing the moving truck at 11 that morning. However, you didn’t slow your drinking. With the way Joshua looked that night, you were gonna need alcohol to get through it without breaking your promise. 

“Jeez, slow down,” Wonwoo said and gently removed the bottle from your lips, “it’s not like we’re out clubbing or something.” he scoffed. You knew he wasn’t trying to sound rude, but you figured Joshua’s presence that was initially unwanted was doing something to affect his mood. 

“I’m sorry! It’s good!” you shrugged before raising your bottle into the air, “Cheers to college?” 

Wonwoo looked at you for a moment, then a small smile crept its way onto his face. Unable to resist you, he picked up his bottle of soju and tapped it against yours with a subtle “cheers”. 

You took a sip from your bottle and looked over at Joshua. He was looking at you with pure admiration as he raised his bottle too. 

“Cheers to not knowing when I’m going to see either of you again after tonight?” he looked over at Wonwoo who was, thankfully, still smiling. The two of you said a joyful “cheers” and drank from your bottles once more. Due to your empty stomach, you were already feeling a slight buzz. You pressed play on the remote and reached forward to grab one of the many snack options that lay before you. You decided on a snack sized bag of chips before leaning back against the bottom of your couch. 

As the movie went on, you snacked, drank, and made little comments about the plot and characters to each other. You were the utmost content to be in their presence; you knew the night would go well. 

Though about an hour through the movie, you felt Joshua’s hand move to the middle of your thigh. You whipped your head in his direction, eyes wide and ready to tell him to stop, but his eyes were locked on the television screen. He must have felt his eyes on you, because he looked over and smirked at you before returning his attention to the movie. 

You just rolled your eyes. Even though Joshua’s action was small, it ignited a fire in your stomach and caused your skin to heat up. After being lonely all summer, it felt nice to feel the touch of someone who wasn’t Wonwoo trying to throw you into your pool. Admittedly, you wanted more, but you wouldn’t let yourself give in. You figured as long as he didn’t try to go any further, you weren’t doing anything wrong. You weren’t breaking your promise. 

Just as soon as you got used to his hand on you, he moved it higher. You thought he would stop, but he just kept going up and up until he neared your sensitive spot. You reached down and stopped his hand from going any further as subtly as you could. You shot him a glare, but he just sat there, smugly looking at you. You wanted to punch him in his beautiful face. 

You leaned over and put your lips right next to his ear, whispering as quietly as you could, “I told Wonwoo we wouldn’t do anything.” You looked over to see if the other male had heard you, but you could tell by his eyes that he was completely entranced by the movie. 

“And I told myself that I wouldn’t try anything, yet here we are,” he whispered back just as quietly. You kept a firm grip on his hand that was on your thigh, not wanting it to move upward any further in fear of how you might react. You thought about somehow moving up to your bedroom so you could keep your promise of not doing anything in the same room as Wonwoo, but he would know exactly what the two of you were up to anyway, so there was no point. Besides, you didn’t want to leave him alone. 

As you tried to figure out a solution, you noticed that Joshua had, at some point, taken a pillow from your couch and placed it on his lap. ‘He could have just been using it to rest his head on’ you told yourself, or maybe...

With your thoughts running amuck, you bravely removed your hand from his and reached up to try and pull the pillow off of him. Somehow he kept his hand on your thigh while still being able to hold the pillow in place. Curse those damn biceps of his. 

“Are you hard right now?” you questioned in disbelief as you continued to try and take the pillow from him. 

Joshua went to respond, but before he could, Wonwoo had paused the movie and was looking over at the two of you.

“Is he what right now?” Wonwoo asked, fuming. You must not have spoken as quietly as you thought you did... 

You and Joshua turned to look at him, anger was evident in his eyes. His fiery orbs then traveled to where Joshua’s hand rested on your thigh. Your eyes widened as you realized what he saw and you threw Joshua’s hand off of your thigh as fast as you possibly could, but you were too late. Wonwoo was standing up and heading towards the door in a very justified fit of rage. 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at yourself. Why were you so stupid? You called your best friend’s name as you untangled yourself from your blanket and headed out the door after him. He was half way down the side walk when you ran up to catch him. 

“Wonwoo-” you said as you grabbed his arm, but he pulled away instantaneously, turning to look at you. The only other time you’d seen him this angry was when you told him about you and Joshua the first time. 

“God I can’t believe you!” he raised his voice, making you feel extraordinarily small. “You guys couldn’t go one night without being complete horndogs for each other?! You promised me y/n!” he turned around and took a few steps, looking down at the sidewalk in defeat. 

“We didn’t do anything!” you called after him, catching up to him again, “He tried to, but we didn’t.” you stated calmly. Wonwoo turned to look at you again. 

“Well it wouldn’t take a genius to know that you both wanted to, if you didn’t you wouldn’t have let him... touch you.” he cringed at the end. 

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding in, not wanting to have this conversation. “Listen, I haven’t really gotten any all summer, so I guess it just felt nice to actually get some attention.” you had your arms crossed and were looking down at your feet in order to avoid eye contact, “I know I made a promise so I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Your words were genuine. You really did feel bad and you hoped that he could hear it in your voice. 

He sighed a long sigh before wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Fine,” he said calmly as he walked you back up to your front door, “but I’m kicking that asshole out.” he said, causing you to let out a light chuckle. 

“Deal.”

Early the next morning, as you got ready to head to your new home, your mind wandered to last night’s events, specifically Wonwoo kicking Joshua out. He had surprised you. You thought he would get up in his face and yell at him for pulling something like that 5 feet away from him, but he simply walked inside and said “You gotta go man.” Joshua seemed just as surprised as you were, but didn’t say another word as he brushed past you and walked out of your house. 

You didn’t let your mind linger on it for too long as you felt bad for Joshua, but only slightly, and decided to focus on the exciting day ahead of you instead. 

You looked at yourself in your vanity one last time before putting your brush in your bag and heading downstairs. Wonwoo’s parents were over again, giving their son one last goodbye hug. They pulled away from him and saw you, keeping their arms open as and waving you over to them to signal they wanted to give you a hug as well. You smiled cheekily and waddled into their arms, embracing them the best you could. 

“Take care of our Wonwoo, okay?” his mother said, sounding as if she was on the verge of tears. 

“I will.” you said reassuringly as you pulled away. 

“Pffft,” Wonwoo said, the three of you turning to look at him, “I’m not the one that needs taking care of.” he joked, which provoked you to playfully hit him on the arm. However he was right, between the two of you he definitely had a better head on his shoulders, though you weren’t that far behind. 

You all headed out to the moving truck where your parents were. Your father wanted to make sure there was nothing wrong with the truck before you started driving. It was a five hour drive, so there was no room for malfunction. 

You and Wonwoo gave both your mother and father a hug and they told you how well they knew the two of you were going to do. You thanked them graciously and walked over to the passenger side of the truck to get in, but Wonwoo’s mother called out that she insisted that her son and his best friend just had to take a picture in front of the truck before leaving. You both groaned, but humored her anyway as you walked to the side of the truck that faced your families. 

Wonwoo put his arm around your shoulder, and you wrapped yours around his slender waist. You smiled widely for the picture, as you knew your parents would treasure it, and held the pose until Wonwoo’s mom said she was done. You waved and said your final goodbyes as you climbed into the passenger seat of the moving truck. You shut the door and buckled your seatbelt, Wonwoo doing the same. 

He turned the key of the truck before looking at you, excitement filling his cat-like brown eyes. 

“Let’s go!”

You pulled into the parking spot in front of your new apartment. You and Wonwoo had switched driving half way through the trip due to it’s length, and needless to say you were both exhausted. The complex had sent you the apartment key in the mail and it had been sitting in your bag since the day you got it. You took it out of one of the inner pockets and inserted it into the lock that was located in the handle. You turned it and pushed the door open, unveiling your new home for the next year. 

It smelt and looked surprisingly clean. You had only seen it once before when you toured the place a couple of months ago, but it looked exactly how you remembered it. A small living area and a kitchen were visible upon entry, and down the hallway were two bedrooms and a bathroom. It was a minimalist apartment, but it was all you needed. 

You put your bag down on the tile-covered kitchen counter and looked at Wonwoo. He was standing in the center of the space with his hands on his hips, looking around with a judgmental look on his face. 

“Well, I guess you can’t expect luxury in your first year of college.” he said matter-of-factly and you laughed at his words. 

“It’s nice,” you contested, “plenty of room for the both of us.” he nodded in agreement and sauntered over to you. 

“Now can we please get the couch in here? I need a nap.” You nodded happily and walked back out your front door. You pushed it so it was open all the way and hoped that the couch would fit through the frame. You had bought a simple grey one from Ikea the previous week and put it together in your garage. It took about 3 hours, but hey, it was a bonding experience.

Luckily, it was the last item you loaded into the moving truck. Wonwoo pulled the ramp down and you both headed toward the couch, you going to the left side and him going to the right. You lifted it at the same time and Wonwoo turned around, heading backwards down the ramp. 

“Be careful!” you called out, earning a mere grunt from your best friend as you inched toward your door. You successfully made it to your door, though you had to turn the couch a few times to get it to fit through the doorframe. 

You set it down a good 6 or 7 feet away from where a TV would potentially go and Wonwoo laid his long body down on it the second it touched the linoleum flooring. Part of you wanted to nap as well, but the other part just wanted to get the unpacking of the truck over with. So, you did your best to shake off your tiredness and headed back outside to start grabbing boxes.

If you were handling smaller boxes, you would try to take 3 or 4 at a time, but most of them were so large and heavy that you could barely carry just one. A lot of the big boxes were packed last, so you were taking your sweet time, carrying one per trip. 

After about 15 minutes of excess amounts of lifting and carrying, your arms were starting to feel like jelly. Boxes that wouldn’t have felt that heavy at the beginning of your task felt like they were full of bricks. You considered waking Wonwoo up to help, but it hadn’t been that long since he laid down, so you decided against it. 

You walked up the ramp of the truck and picked up a large rectangular box. The shape made it difficult for you to get a good grip on it, and to make matters worse, it was beyond heavy. 

You ever so slowly stepped down the ramp, being careful not to drop it. However as soon as you stepped off of the ramp, you felt your legs about to give out beneath you. Right as you were about to fall, a man appeared in front of you and placed his hand on your back. He prevented your descent onto the pavement and took the box from your hands effortlessly. 

“You okay?” he asked, concern evident in his brown eyes. He held the box between his waist and one of his long, muscular arms as he looked down at you. You took in his immaculate features. He was exceptionally tall, tan, and handsome beyond words. His hair was brown and fluffy and his shoulders were the perfect width. 

You realized how long you’d been staring at him and grew red in an instant. 

“S-sorry, I just... thank you.” you said, moving your hand up to rest your forehead in your palm. He chuckled at your flustered state. 

“It’s no problem. You look like you could use some help.” he said with a smirk, not-so-subtly looking you up and down. Your face heated up again and you suddenly became self conscious of your moving clothes that consisted of an old white t-shirt, tattered jean shorts, and some Nike tennis shoes that you’d had for a few years.

“Uh, yeah,” you chuckled nervously, “I mean I have it, but he’s kind of asleep…”  you said as you motioned toward your door. He nodded in understanding and smiled at you.

“Can I put this down inside for you?” he asked and you replied with a small yet perky ‘yeah’ and led him inside. He set the box down to the side of the door quietly before heading back outside with you.

“Lazy boyfriend?” he questioned, but you shook your head no, admittedly more aggressively than you would if someone that wasn’t as gorgeous as this generous stranger was asking.

“No! No, he’s just my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were kids.” you told him and walked back up the ramp of the truck next him. You picked up a smaller box and he picked up another one of the larger ones.

“Ah okay, good to know.” he said suavely. It sounded relatively flirty, but you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself. You were just surprised that someone as attractive as him was even interacting with you.

You made small talk as you carried boxes and various pieces of furniture to and from your apartment, Wonwoo sleeping through all of it. Him being able to continue his slumber through the moving process didn’t come as a shock to you, he was a pretty heavy sleeper.

You weren’t surprised that the man helping you was able to carry a total of 12 dresser drawers, 2 dresser frames, 2 bed frames, and 2 mattresses on top of the enormous amount of boxes he carried prior to that, but you were surprised that you were able to help him carry all of those things. Maybe it was because you just wanted to get it done, but it very well could have been because you wanted to impress this handsome, and rather intriguing stranger. 

When you were done unloading everything, you walked back to the truck. The man picked up the ramp and slid it back into the truck before sitting on the edge and patting the spot next to him. You blushed slightly and jumped to sit next to him, swinging your legs happily.

“Oh! I never asked, what’s your name?” you asked casually as you looked over at him.

“Mingyu. Kim Mingyu.” he told you. 

Mingyu, you thought, what a nice name.

“And yours?” he asked, holding his hand out.

“Y/N. Y/L/N Y/F/N.” you replied, putting your hand in his and shaking it. His grip was gentle and his hand was large and incredibly soft.

“Well Y/N,” he raised your hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss on it, “it’s lovely to meet you.” he smiled.

His action was cheesy, far cheesier than you would normally like, but given Mingyu’s insanely good looks, you had butterflies fluttering around in your stomach.

“That was a bit tacky,” you admitted, “but I liked it.”

He smiled at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “You know I thought it may be too much, but I wanted to try it out.” you nodded in understanding and sat there in a comfortable silence for a moment. When you went to speak up again, Wonwoo came stumbling around the corner of the truck. He was scratching his head, his hair messy from his nap.

“Who’s this?” he said tiredly, motioning toward Mingyu.

“Kim Mingyu.” he said and offered his hand.

“Nice,” Wonwoo said, not even doing as much as looking at the other man’s hand. “Well thanks for helping Y/N unload the truck, but we have to take it to the company to return it now.” he crossed his arms, giving Mingyu a ‘time for you to go’ look. 

“Well considering we did all the work, how about you take the truck back?” you suggested, but Wonwoo shook his head.

“It’s in your name, so you kinda have to be there.” he said matter-of-factly, causing you to groan.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. I should probably be heading home anyway.” Mingyu said, standing up from the edge of the truck. He offered you his hand and you took it, hopping down as well.

“I’ll be in the truck...” Wonwoo mumbled, leaving you and Mingyu alone. The thought of Wonwoo backing the truck up enough to hurt Mingyu in some way crossed your mind, but you had faith that he wouldn’t.

“So...” you trailed off shyly and looked at the ground, “thank you for helping me today. Really, you didn’t have to.”

You heard him let out a breathy laugh. “It’s nothing, really. I had fun.” he stated.

“Me too,” you looked at his chest, “is there any way I can make it up to you?” you inquired. Your heart began to race as you waited for his answer.

He reached up and placed his pointer finger under your chin, tilting your head up so you were looking him in the eyes. You swallowed nervously as he looked into your eyes meaningfully.

“Promise me I’ll see you again?”

The butterflies in your stomach were worse than ever.

“Promise.”

a/n: hello!! sooo this is the first chapter of hunger.. i know some stuff may not make much sense yet, but i promise everything will come together later on in the story :) if you liked this chapter please don’t hesitate to tell me!! getting feedback really motivates me to write, so it would be lovely to hear from some of you!! if you got this far thank you so much for reading & i’ll have the next chapter posted ASAP! - j💗

[collecting-stories]

Christmas Eve - ep. 07 - Georgia

Summary: Christmas in King County and a hint at what lies behind the All-American girl persona that you wear. 

A/N: Hope you guys are enjoying the rewrite so far!

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

Christmas Eve in King County, like everything else, was marked by the church. There was the Christmas Eve midnight service that Hershel led, the living nativity set up in the middle of the square, for the days leading up to Christmas, and, of course, Annette’s Christmas Eve dinner at the farm for all the church congregation to gather together. It was more of an open house and you always ended up ‘working it’ though it was really just a glorified dinner, no need for servers and no one got paid for the shift.

“Are you busy on Thursday?” You asked the question innocently, leaving out the part where Thursday was also Christmas Eve.  

“Dunno,” Daryl shrugged, wiping his hands on the rag hanging out of his pocket as he turned to face you. A welcome distraction, having you around had prolonged the work that Daryl could’ve easily completed in two months. He was always stopping and starting when you came over though, more interested in you than in the car. Before he might’ve denied it but after Thanksgiving, he knew it was true, Rick had been right about him having feelings for someone. It wasn’t something he was used to but it was something.  

“It’s Christmas Eve.”  

“I got a calendar.” He replied, smiling when you pouted at him.

“Well if you’re calendar isn’t too booked maybe you’d come to the dinner Annette’s having at the Greene farm?” You replied, “it’s always a lot of fun.”

“Wouldn’t know, ain’t never been invited to it before.”  

“I’m inviting you now.”  

“Dunno,” he walked the short distance to the fridge and grabbed a beer out, “I’m not exactly a participating member of the community.”

“Dale will be there,” you offered, skimming over his last sentence. You knew he wasn’t anyone’s favorite person and you’d heard a good deal of Dixon stories from everyone who had heard that you were getting your car fixed by Daryl but that hadn’t dampened your opinion. Just because a bunch of people thought they knew him didn’t mean they did. “I’ll be there.”

“Ya want me ta spend Christmas Eve listening ta yer yammering on?” Daryl asked. You caught the hint of a smile and you knew he wasn’t as opposed to the idea as he was saying.  

“Maybe...beats me showing up here to interrupt your night.”

-

“So you asked him to come to Christmas Eve dinner?” Maggie asked, standing beside the wooden structure meant to represent the manger, white and blue cloths and headdress covering her jeans and thermal shirt. It was chillier than either of you would’ve liked tonight.

“Yeah, thought it’d be nice, he’s never been.” You pointed out. You had been sent over with thermoses of hot chocolate and cups for the manger volunteers, standing a short way off so that you didn’t ‘break the illusion’.  

“I highly doubt that Patty sent you over here to chitchat. You girls need to be better stewards of your time and your tongues.” Jacqui called, beckoning Maggie over as she spoke. You frowned, watching as Maggie rejoined the nativity cast. You weren’t a fan of King County’s holiest member of the community or her perception that she was better than everyone else.  

Jacqui was a central member of the church, a ward against gossip though she had a tongue for it herself, and a general know-it-all. She had been managing the 7-11 in town since the owner had franchised his small business to them, before you were even born. She even rented the house that sat just to the left. There was a picture of the original business hanging behind the counter at the 7-11, the house with two gas pumps in front of it, an older man and his wife standing on the porch. Somehow all that deemed Jacqui a sort of unspoken ‘elder’ member of the community. A gossip but an important voice in the town. On par with Patricia, Annette, and Hershel though she was younger.  

Her voice was important to everyone but you.  

“I heard you were in again the other day with that Dixon fella, buying cigarettes.” She mentioned when she came over, claiming to want some hot chocolate.

“The cigarettes were his, I don’t smoke,” you replied, watching the nativity scene. Having a job this Christmas had saved you from having to participate with all the rest of the youth group and you were more than thankful for that. “Besides, he’s working on my car, like I keep saying.”

“I’d said you’re spending a little too much time in his company. Might not’ve picked up his smoking but you picked up his need for talking-back.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you smiled at her, “sorry Miss Jacqui, didn’t mean anything by it, must be the cold getting to me.”  

“Must be.”  

When she walked away again to reign in Joseph and a Wise Man you capped the rest of the hot chocolate and left it by the church table that was set up for donations. You weren’t lying about the cold, it was nearing forty at night as it got closer to January. Nothing you liked but you made due as long as you weren’t outside for too long. It was only when Patricia made you do ridiculous things like walk hot chocolate across the street to the living nativity that you really had to brave the weather.  

“Oh good you’re back, you got a table. I was gonna take his order but he said he didn’t ‘want nothing yet’ figured he might be waiting for ya.” Amy said, bumping her hip against yours as you took your coat off, whispering and glancing over her shoulder to your section as she spoke.  

You looked back, biting your lip to stop the smile on your face at the sight of Daryl sitting there reading over the menu. You grabbed your apron from the rack and tied it around your waist, “I got it, thanks.”

“He’s some trouble ya know.” Amy mentioned.  

“He’s Just fixing my car.” You replied and even as you said it you knew it sounded like a lie. You walked over to his table, smiling when he looked up at you.  

“Heard ya were bringing hot chocolate ta baby Jesus.” He said, grin in place.

“Yea course, haven’t you read that bit in the bible?” You teased. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Your own hot chocolate?”  

“Coffee’s fine.”

“What brings you in?” You asked, hovering at the table, thankful for the slow night.  

“Figured yer always showing up ta harass me while I work, ain’t fair I don’t give ya the same treatment.” Daryl replied.  

You bit your bottom lip, preparing for a comeback when you heard Patricia call your name from behind the counter. She’d come out of the kitchen to see you standing at Daryl’s table, smiling at him like he just hung the stars and she’d almost had a heart attack. Patricia had seen him come in and had known, the moment he sat himself in your section, that he wasn’t moving anytime soon. She’d listened to you tell her the same story over and over again, that Daryl was fixing the jeep and that as soon as he was done so would your seeing him be.  

“I only see him to pay him for the job.”  

But Patricia wasn’t some naive young kid who you could pull the wool over. She’d been around the block a time or two and knew exactly what kind of temptations you were wading into hanging around Daryl Dixon.  

“I’ll be right back with your coffee.” You promised, turning away from him and walking back to the counter. Patricia looked passed you, eyebrow raised in disdain as she watched Daryl fiddle with his laminated menu.  

“Are you out of your damn mind?”  

“What?” You asked innocently, “I was talking to a customer.”

“I have half a mind to call your mother and tell her you been hanging around Dixon on your off time.” Patricia said.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Patty,” you insisted. If she called your parents then it was over. Your car would be in Woodbury, you would be grounded worse than Maggie could imagine, and you’d likely never see Daryl again.  

“You watch yourself, you’re in dangerous territory.”  

“He’s just fixing-”  

“Your car. I heard.” Patricia replied.  

“Can you hand me a coffee?” You asked, changing the subject.

She went to the other side of the counter to grab you a cup of coffee for Daryl while you turned back to look over at him. As if on some cue he looked over at you and you smiled. He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck and you caught the faint pink the blossomed over his cheeks.  

“One coffee.” Patricia said, setting it down and catching your attention again, “charge him this time.”

“I’ll make sure to get the dollar from him,” you replied, taking the cup and walking back over to Daryl’s table. Patricia shook her head, despite her friendship with your parents and the Greene’s she’d kept plenty of secrets for you and Maggie over the years. She hadn’t told them about Glenn and Maggie dating, she hadn’t told your parents about your tardiness over Thanksgiving or Daryl dropping off the pie plate when you’d claimed you were bringing the apple pie to Tara. She just wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing not telling them you were falling deeper and deeper into something with Daryl.  

It was unspoken knowledge the way Will Dixon treated his kids. While Daryl’s mother hadn’t been some innocent girl getting taken advantage of she had loved her kids, Daryl a little more than Merle probably. She’d never hit them but she never stayed sober passed three in the afternoon and Patricia could still remember the senior Mr. Grimes coming in after the fire burned down the old house telling them about Daryl arriving home in time to see the place ablaze.  

Losing his mother, watching his brother leave, enduring years of abuse from his father, Patricia couldn’t help but worry that the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree with Daryl. She’d been watching for any sign of abuse on you but she hadn’t seen any. If anything, you seemed happier than you had been in a while and it was that Patricia relied on to make herself feel better about not telling your parents that you were occupying your time with a Dixon.  

“Ya working late?” Daryl asked as you idled by his table.

“I’ve got thirty more minutes then I’m free to trudge home in the cold.” You replied, “I’m going to Maggie’s...we’re setting up the barn tomorrow for the Christmas Eve party.”

“Ya need a ride?”

“Do you mind driving Maggie too?”  

He shook his head. Daryl had come to the diner tonight just to see you. Aside from going to Dale’s for work or 7-11 for a pack of smokes he didn’t frequent too many places in King County. He was far from an active member in the community but he’d been turning up more often. The diner for one, the Winter Fest where Otis had spied him at the church table talking to you. He’d come tonight because he definitely wasn’t planning on going to the Christmas Eve party dinner that you had invited him to but he did have a present for you. Stupid, he was sure, but a present nonetheless.  

You paged Maggie to tell her to meet you at the diner and finished out the rest of your shift while Daryl drank his coffee, paid, and left to smoke out in the parking lot. He was there, toking on a cigarette, when you exited the diner with your backpack.  

“I really don’t like closing. I hate having to clean up.” You confessed as you came out to meet him.  

“Shifts a shift.” He shrugged and you rolled your eyes at his words. “Here, ‘fore Maggie comes over and I gotta hear the two a ya bitching about the Nativity or something.”

“You don’t have to drive us.” You replied, taking the box wrapped in newspaper that he had handed you, “is this a present? Did you get me a present?”

“Ain’t nothing special...don’t get so excited.” He said, chewing his thumb as you opened the gift he’d bought. Sitting in the little box was a keychain. A leather strap folded over and fastened onto a thin metal plate that attached it to the key hook. The leather was embroidered with clumsy little flowers in yellow with green leaves.  

“This is so pretty.” You smiled at Daryl, holding the keychain close as you gave him a one-armed hug.

Daryl tensed and pulled away, huffing as he tried to appear indifferent about the keychain, he’d made himself, “none a that, it ain’t nothing expensive. Just thought ya’d like it.”

“I love it, thank you.”

“I’m here, I’m here.” Maggie’s voice cut through your conversation as she came around the side of the truck, brushing out her hair from being pinned back in Mary’s head covering. Daryl dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out with his boot to distract himself from the blush that had started warming his cheeks when you hugged him. “Hi Daryl.” Maggie greeted.

“Hey,” he nodded to her before heading around to the driver’s side of the truck. You climbed in first, taking the middle seat, while Maggie climbed in second. You slipped the leather keychain back into the box and held it on your lap as Daryl pulled out of the diner with the two of you, heading toward Hershel’s farm.  

The ride was quiet, a lull of conversation as Maggie complained about Jacqui and the other youth group kids that had been roped into the nativity. You stayed quiet, knee pressed against Daryl’s and hands gripping present he had given you, unable to contain the smile on your face. The truck drove the dirt path up to the farm and Daryl cut the engine, Maggie already opening the door and slipping out.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem.” Daryl replied, huffing out smoke as you slide across the seat, suddenly cold from the loss of touch. He was gripping the steering wheel with one hand as he watched you get out of the truck, lingering in the door like you always did.

“I do have a present for you, by the way.” You mentioned, spying the newspaper wrapping crumpled on the floor of the truck.  

“Ya don’t have ta waster yer money.”

“Too late.” You teased. You met his eyes and your smile widened. On the other side of the truck  you could hear the front door clatter open, the familiar squeak of the springs on the screen and footsteps bounding down as Beth ran across the headlights to engulf you in a hug.

“I missed you!”  

“Hi Beth, I missed you too!”

Still holding your waist she caught sight of Daryl for the first time and twisted, moving her body behind yours and peeking out at him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Daryl dropped his cigarette into the ashtray in the truck as he nodded his head to her, “yer Beth I take it.”

“I am.”

“I like yer braids.” He mentioned, watching the sweet smile she offered as she moved further out so he could see the blonde french braids clearer.

“Thank you! My mom did them for me so that my hair will be wavy tomorrow for Christmas Eve.”

“I’m sure it’ll look beautiful.”

She giggled and you bit your lip as your eyes met his. “I’d better get inside, thanks for the ride.”

“Sure thing, see ya ‘round.”

You walked Beth inside, her gaze wandering back to the pickup as she climbed the porch stairs with you. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“No. Daryl’s not my boyfriend.”

“She wishes.” Maggie teased, waiting at the door for the two of you.  

-

The barn at Christmas was arguably one of your favorite sights in the world. Hershel took great pride in outlining the entire building with lights, he hung a oversized wreath on the side with a large spotlight and the whole thing felt like you were walking into a Hallmark movie or a Thomas Kincaide mural. Georgia didn’t a lot of real winter weather but the barn made you feel like you were in some New England town.

“I was sorry to hear your dad couldn’t make it.” Jacqui came up behind you, her voice returning you to the reality of the evening. Hershel’s barn decorated at Christmas was your favorite but the people who filled it weren’t.  

“Yeah, he wishes he could be.” You shrugged. “Working.”  

“That’s what your mom said. At least he’s a good worker right? Must be where you get it from.”

Just passed Jacqui you could see your mom talking to Annette. Her eyes met yours and she straightened up, pointing to her mouth and indicating for you to smile. You straightened your back and offered Jacqui a closed lip smile before answering her, “yeah. Must be.”  

When Jacqui left to talk to another church member your mom made a quick beeline for you, wrapping her hand around your arm and guiding you outside, away from the party. “What did Jacqui want?”

“She was just asking about dad-”

“What did you say?”

“I said he was at work. God, mom we went over this in the car...I’m not stupid.” You crossed your arms in front of you, looking away from her.  

“You didn’t say anything to Maggie?”

“No.”  

“Hey!” She grabbed at your jaw to make you look at her, nails scratching against your cheek, “look at me. Did you tell Maggie?”

“No. I didn’t say anything to anyone mom.” You replied, pulling away from her and stepping back, “can I go back inside or did you want to assault me some more?”

“For Gods sake stop being so dramatic.”

“Dramatic? You dragged me out here to ask if I told some random person that my dad is in rehab for the billionth ti-”

“Keep your voice down!” She snapped, “you want everyone to hear you?”  

“Sorry mama.”  

She smoothed back your hair, pushing stray pieces away from your face and fixing your headband for you before leading you both back inside for the continuation of the night. Neither of you spoke to each other the rest of the evening. Not in the car on the way to the service at church and not once you’d gotten home. You went in your room to change and listened to her in the kitchen, trying to throw together a lunch as she prepared to work through the holiday. A knock on your bedroom door was the only thing to signify that she was leaving and would likely work the whole of Christmas.  

The Greene’s would be confused if you went to theirs too early in the morning and you didn’t want to disturb Daryl any more than you already did by showing up at his. Tara was spending the holiday upstate visiting her sister and seeing her niece. The diner was closed. You opted for going straight to bed once your dress was off and your face was clean…hopefully you’d be lucky and you’d sleep through the holiday.  

-

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