Hi! Could I please get some headcanons or a drabble of Astarion x anemic!Tav and how things may differ when it comes to him feeding on them, how he'd take care of them if they needed it, etc? Would love to see what you come up with. Thank you for your time! đ
Hello and thank you very much, Anon! Since I'm actually hit with the Bloodless debuff today myself... What else could I have written?
This is a very sweet idea to write something - which I took and then made it sarcastic... I hope you like it.
Also - idk why, but for this I pictured Tav as velnna's Staeve - you probably know who I'm talking about and if you don't you should very quickly go over there and find out, because I love Steven and you should really give this incredible incredible artist who has contributed so much to this fandom a lot of love. All the love. (I didn't wanna tag them because I didn't know if it was okay and didn't want to annoy them but go check out their blog!!)
Pairing: Astarion / Tav (You)
Wordcount: 1,6k
Bloodless
The sun was burning in the sky. You felt sweat almost drip from your skin. Every step seemed to be harder than the last one. Your heart was fluttering although your pulse seemed flat. Damn this Mountain Pass.
You and the rest of the party had been hiking through the mountains for days. It was exhausting for everyone, but especially for you it seemed. Surely, the fact that you had offered Astarion your blood almost every other night (and that he was always very keen and graciously grateful to take it) had quite obviously to do with how much your stamina had dwindled.
But you knew offering up your blood was very much helpful. Not only to the vampire, but the party as a whole: Astarion had basically become a menace on the battlefield since heâd been able to feed properly. Also, you were stubborn â a bit of missing blood wouldnât knock you out. Or would it?
You tripped on a loose stone and almost face-planted on the ground. Only in the last moment were you able to catch yourself and dampen the fall with your arms. You quickly got up again and hoped no one had noticed since youâd dropped to being the last in the group today.
But trying to raise yourself so quickly had been a mistake and you suddenly felt overly woozy, your vision blurring and you were immediately back on one knee.
And of course, it hadnât gone unnoticed: Astarion had been in front of you and had seemingly been alarmed by the noise of your fall â twice.
âWhat is it, Tav, got too distracted looking at my back, hm?â, he taunted and came over to where you were doubled over â leaning on your arms too now because you felt so dizzy all of a sudden that you felt you had need of all of your four limbs on the ground to support you.
When the vampire realised you werenât getting up and also didnât respond to his quip in your usual witty manner, he quickly gave the others a shout to let them know not to go too far ahead. Then he came over to you. You were desperately trying to not pass out when you saw the hands of the pale elf through your blurred vision reaching for you.
âYou do hear me, yes?â, Astarion whispered to you. You could only nod curtly. His hands hesitantly touched your shoulders.
âAlright, can you get up? Thereâs a big stone over there where you could sit down.â You shook your head which made you even dizzier.
âOh hmâ, Astarion seemed a little helpless on how to proceed with you. You felt him turn away.
âDonât tell the others!â, you exclaimed breathlessly. The vampire whipped around: âBut⊠why?â âJust donât pleaseâ, you whispered and carefully looked up at his face. Was that⊠actual worry?
âPlease just⊠Help me sit on this rock, let me have some water⊠and rest and weâll keep going in a few minutesâ, you pleaded with him. Astarion didnât look completely convinced but sighed in defeat after a few of your racing heartbeats.
âAlright â could you please not die for a moment while I go and talk to the others?â, he said in a sassy tone that couldnât completely gloss over the worry in his voice.
You let your head fall down again and simply nodded. Astarion went off towards the rest of your companions.
Ever so slowly you felt a little bit better. Cautiously you knelt back onto your feet â at least not on all fours anymore! Shortly after you tried to carefully get up and move over to the rock Astarion had mentioned.
That was when the vampire returned. âOh no no, you stay right where you are, you poor helpless creature that would have perished already had it not been for me.â He ran the last few feet over and grabbed one of your arms to slowly put it around his neck and help you get up and walk over to sit on the boulder. You wanted to say something witty at his taunt, but your mind was too blank.
âAlso, we are actually taking a break â all of us, so donât even try to keep on walkingâ, he scolded you as he placed you down.
âWhat did you tell the others?â, you asked simply as you placed your forearms on your thighs and just sat leaning forward like that for a little. âTss, does it matter now? Something like I broke a nail of mine and needed a moment to mourn it or whateverâ, Astarion replied annoyedly.
âCanât believe they actually stopped for thatâ, you said slowly and chuckled with your head between your knees and threw up a look at your vampiric companion. âYeah well, seems they care a lot about my wellbeing. And I take it they would about yours, tooâ, he gave back â again very sassily. You just chuckled but didnât reply. You saw that he relaxed a little.
âAh here. You should probably drink and eat a littleâ, the vampire said after a while of the two of you just sitting there. He offered you a water bottle and some berries from a pouch â both of which werenât his for obvious reasons.
You narrowed your eyes at him: âWhere did you get those?â âBy the Gods, you are so reluctant to help, I shouldâve left you in the dirt.â Astarion rolled his eyes at you. âThe druid gave it to me â youâre not as inconspicuous as you might believe, oh mighty leader of our adventure troupe.â You had a desire to punch this cheeky elf but you knew you were in no condition to act on something like this, so you sighed and first took the water and then started to munch on some berries from the offered pouch.
Silence spread once more between the two of you. Before Astarion broke it again: âListen, Tav, darling, I know this must be because youâre letting me drink your blood so often.â You immediately wanted to start protesting but the vampire hushed you, brows furrowed.
âNo, for once, youâll let me do the talking. Donât think Iâm blind â your form has been declining for quite some time now. We canât go on like this. I mean, Halsin has also noticed already.â You stayed silent and kept popping berries in your mouth and silently thanked the druid for his kind gesture â even if you didnât want the others to know of this weakness. You slowly started to feel better.
âAs much as I enjoy our little late night⊠sessions. We should probably take a break â at least concerning these particular ones. And maybe later, keep longer breaks in between if you insist to keep throwing yourself at me to drink your bloodâ, Astarion continued and sighed theatrically.
He tried so hard to be sarcastic about the whole thing, but you noticed that he was actually worried, judging by the guilty glint in his red eyes. And maybe it was that the blood loss was affecting your brain too much but you stared at him and just dryly said: âYou know, you could just admit that you care about me, Astarion.â
The vampire huffed in surprise, then he sneered with a click of his tongue: âBah, of course I do, you seem to be the only one to get this group of clowns to work together after all. Itâs not like I care for you much as a person. As a blood bag maybe, but other than thatâŠâ
You pursed your lips and let him ramble, digging his own verbal grave by trying to talk himself out of it.
You didnât even reply afterwards, just let him steep in the own awkwardness he created.
You kept looking at him â even offered him a berry, he scrunched his nose at â then shrugged and ate it yourself.
You slowly opened your water bottleâŠ
âOkay, maybe a little. Tiny bit. Because youâre the only one in the group who seems to have a real sense of humour â at least when youâre not lying in the dirt being a dried out huskâ, Astarion exclaimed.
You grinned at him wolfishly and shook the last of the berries from the small bag into your mouth ignoring his insult. âNow, wasnât even that hard, was it? I really like you to, Astarionâ, you said and then slowly stood up â careful not to immediately make a fool of yourself again.
âI liked you better when you were staring at the dirt up closeâ, the vampire replied and jumped up while crossing his arms over his chest, then sauntered away.
âSure, if thatâs what you need to tell yourselfâ, you kept teasing and slowly went after the brooding vampire.
You met up with the rest of the camp then went on your way for the rest of the day. The others were already so used to the two of you missing from the camp at the same time (mostly during nighttime, of course) that they didnât even look up when the two of you came back.
Later when you all had settled down for the night you saw that Astarion went over to Halsin and talked to him softly. They both threw you looks in between which made you uncomfortable because you certainly could imagine what the topic was. Before Astarion had also made sure youâd gotten the first serving of tonightâs dinner (and also seconds).
Even later when the others were already at rest the vampire confessed, heâd been asking the druid about how he could go about drinking your blood without putting too much of a strain on you. Again, you noticed that he seemed not only concerned about his blood rations when he explained that to you.
The next days you also noticed that Astarion had started carrying some water and the bag from Halsin containing the berries.
And you thought to yourself that â for a blood bag â Astarion seemed to put an awful lot of thought and action into making sure you were okay.
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the shape of your body (explicit)
genre: fluffy slowburn smut
pairing: jimin x reader
summary:Â the same day you finally manage to speak to your months-long public transit crush, you end up seeing much more of him than you bargained for.
word count:Â 24k đââïž
contains:Â explicit sexual content~*~ (after a slow burn lmao) - new york city grad school AU, strangers to lovers, reader is an art student, public transit thirsting, jimin is a dancer and a nude model, namgi and vhope as side characters, basically everyone is gay (they're ART STUDENTS in NEW YORK CITY it's called realism đ
), a smidge of member x member side character relationships, jimin is biromantic demisexual đ, conversations about body image issues/past relationship struggles/demisexuality and libido, soooo much making out, a couple "failed attempts" at sex, accidental voyeurism (but not how you think lmao YOU'LL SEE), showering together non-sexually, and: fingering, clit stim, nipple play, come eating/sharing đ€ an attempted blowjob, face sitting, & protected sex (multiple rounds đ„”)
A/N: asjdshgkdfjgs i can't believe it's done đ there were so many times i thought i would never finish this fic !!! i have too many friends to thank for talking me off of SEVERAL ledges where i was convinced this whole thing was trash and that i should just stick to short porn or perhaps simply never write again. i'm so glad i saw this one through because there are concepts in here that are deeply important and personal to me wehhh đ« i sincerely hope y'all enjoy this one!! thank u for enduring mostly radio silence while i was in jimin lockdown, and of course, happy early birthday to mini, the light of my mf life đ„°đ
(oh and LDOMLT ch 8 is coming next so buckle tf up bitches đ)
an eternity of smooches to @haliiimede for beta reading and just generally being the best fucking person on planet earth âš AND TO @goodsoop FOR THE DEMI SENSITIVITY READ VERY SORRY THAT I AM THE WORLD'S LARGEST IDIOT AND FORGOT TO CREDIT..... i love you both đ„ș
read on AO3!
~*~
Youâve taken the subway thousands of times since moving to New York.
Morning rides, squeezed nearly to death between commuters in suits blinking back sleep and school-uniformed kids scream-laughing and paper coffee cups gripped tight by winter-numb fingers.
Long trips with your sketchbook on your lap, riding the line all the way to Pelham Bay Park and back, to surface above ground out where thereâs a little more space to breathe, until the setting sun floods orange glow between the buildings just before you descend again.
Late nights coming home, Namjoonâs head thudding back against the train window behind him as he dozes off, one arm thrown around your shoulder to ward off any drunk creeps, his free hand interlaced with Yoongiâs on his other side.
Itâs always been the three of you, first in friendship, and now that the two of them have figured out theyâre something more, you donât mind it. But when itâs late and youâve had enough drinks to feel warm all the way through, to melt something open inside of you, and you glance over to see a loving flicker of eyelashes exchanged as Namjoon leans down and presses a kiss to Yoongiâs temple, you canât help it.
Thereâs a little bit of an ache there, right behind your ribs. Sometimes.
But mostly, when it comes to the train, you take the 6 to school. You go through the motions this morning the same as you always do: headphones around your neck, bag slung over your shoulder, immediately dropping into the first empty seat you see as the train doors shudder closed and the car starts to move. Six stops down, 51st street to Astor Place, five days a week, you know it like a heartbeat.
You just wish you knew him, too.
Subway Boy, as Yoongi affectionately labeled him the time you got two pitchers of margaritas deep and made the mistake of confessing to your roommates about your crushâ if it can even be called that. Can you truly have a crush on someone you know nothing about, not even their name?
Well, you know a few things.
He must live further north than you, because on the days you see him, heâs already on the train when you board at 51st.
He must like music, because he always has a set of fancy bluetooth earbuds in.
Youâre pretty sure heâs an athlete of some sort, because heâs usually carrying a gym bagâand because during this summerâs heat wave, the one and only time youâve seen him wear shorts, you nearly fainted at the thick, defined muscles of his thighs.
He has an affinity for jewelry, delicate silver always glinting through the multiple piercings in his ears. At odds with this, he seems to prefer to dress comfortably, and youâve seen him in enough branded school t-shirts and sweats to figure he must also be an NYU student, though you canât say for sure if heâs undergrad or graduate.
You deeply hope youâre not crushing on someone who still needs a fake ID to drink, but thereâs no way to be certain.
Most importantly, you know that he is absolutely stunning. Elegantly handsome, with expressive deep brown eyes, skin like glass, and round cheeks and full lips that flush frozen pink on particularly frigid New York days. His hair has changed colors a few times over the months that have passed since you first took notice of him, but itâs currently a honey blonde, and long enough that he often reaches up to card a hand through it. He does it now, pushing loose strands back to expose his forehead as he frowns down at his phone.
On days where you share the same car, you notice very little else that happens on the ride, thoroughly entranced in Subway Boyâs beauty and his mystery. The train could probably catch fire and youâd miss it entirely.
Today happens to be one of those days, and excitement glitters in your bloodstream as you realize heâs seated across from you. The rush of seeing him always feels like its own reward, some kind of cosmic sign that the day is going to be a good one.
And then the train stops moving.
Thereâs an audible reaction from a few people in the car, and you glance up a moment later when a voice buzzes over the intercom. Youâre able to make out âattention passengersâ and very little after that, just the basics about some sort of unforeseen interruption of service and that the train should resume moving again soon.
You sigh, knowing very well that the MTAâs definition of âsoonâ does not often align with typical human expectations. Figuring youâve got some time to kill, you reach into your bag to retrieve your sketchbook and the first pencil you can dig out of the bottom.
âWhat did they say?â A voice, quiet and deep, surprises you before you can even flip to your in-progress page.
You glance up to find Subway Boy staring at you, forearms braced on his knees as he leans forward into the gap between his seat and yours. Heâs got one bluetooth earbud pinched between his fingertips and a confused look on his face, having clearly missed the announcement.
Heat floods your face at the feeling of his eyes fixed on you, and it takes you a second to form a response. âUhâ I didnât get most of it. Something about unforeseen interruption. And that weâll be moving again soon.â
A muscle works in his jaw as he rolls his eyes. âTypical.â
âI donât think they know what âsoonâ means,â you murmur, mostly to yourself as you tear your gaze away from Subway Boy and return to the sketchbook in your lap, rifling through to find your latest half-finished drawing. When you hear him huff a laugh, you have to bite down on the hopeful smile that threatens to shine across your face.
âDefinitely not.â
You force yourself to keep your eyes on the page, assuming Subway Boy must go back to his music when he falls silent after his last comment.
With featherlight flicks of your pencil, you start to add a little depth to the quick study you were working on last night, Yoongiâs half-peeled tangerine that he left abandoned on the coffee table when he stepped out onto the fire escape for a smoke.
Subway Boyâs voice catches you off guard a second time. âAre you drawing?â
You bite down on your lip again, a nervous habit, and you nod as you tilt the page so he can see from across the car.
âWow.â You wonder if youâre imagining the way his voice seems to soften a little. âYouâre really good. Are you an artist?â
You canât help itâ your gaze flits up to meet his again. Itâs nearly overwhelming to lock eyes with your Subway Boy and hear him compliment you, like something out of a wild daydream. âI guess so,â you remark, the corner of your mouth tugging up into a small smile as you say it. âIâve certainly paid NYU enough money in my attempts to become one.â
âKnow the feeling,â he scoffs, but his eyes smile back, pulled into crescent moons.
âWhat did you pay them for?â
âCurrently, a dual MFA/MA in dance and⊠teaching dance. Really went all-in on the dancer thing.â
âOh.â Your eyes widen automatically. Youâve wonderedâ and yes, occasionally drunkenly speculated with your roommatesâ what Subway Boyâs line of work might be, but you have no idea why dancer never occurred to you. Because now all the pieces suddenly fall together in front of you: the toned muscles that flex beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt, the natural grace he exudes, not to mention his perfect posture.
Of course heâs a dancer. It makes perfect sense.
It occurs to you, a beat too late, that a wide-eyed âohâ is not the most normal response to a truly innocuous answer to a question asked of a random stranger.
But the smile in his eyes doesnât falter. âI feel like I see you on this train a lot.â
Your stomach flutters like butterfly wings, and you have to look away, back down to the safety of your sketchbook. âReally?â
Thereâs an extra pause before he speaks again. âMan, sorry. Think I misread that. Now I feel creepy. I promise Iâve only noticed you a normal amount.â Your eyes snap back up to find him wincing slightly, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.
âNo, no, Iâmâ itâs notââ you stammer, trying to recover. âI, uhâ me too, I have too. Noticed you. A normal amount. I⊠I donât know why I just pretended like I didnât.â
Subway Boy leans forward, head dropping down with a genuine laugh that shakes his shoulders, and you canât help but laugh too, out of sheer embarrassment. Heâs beaming when he rights himself again, and it sends a thrill buzzing through you, all the way down to your fingertips still clutched tight to your pencil.
âThat makes me feel better,â he admits. âAt least weâre both creepy.â
As if the universe itself is intervening to save you from any further humiliation, the train shudders back to life and begins to move again. The sigh you breathe is a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.
âThatâs definitely a new record,â you say shyly as you move to shove your things back in your bag. âMaybe the MTA actually looked up what âsoonâ means.â
His focus is tracked over your shoulder when you look up again, and his eyes dance left to right to chase the patterns in the subway tile as you pull into the next station.
âGuess itâs a miracle,â he says softly, not making eye contact.
âMust be,â you murmur back, letting your gaze drop to the floor, unable to hide your smile now.
He doesnât say anything else, and neither do you, but the warm flush stays in your face for the rest of the ride. When the train pulls into the Astor Place station, you and Subway Boy get to your feet simultaneously, so quickly that your bags knock together as you pull them over your shoulders.
âSorry,â you say in unison, immediately sharing an exhaled laugh at the synchronicity of the moment.
The doors slide open and he gestures for you to go first before following after. Itâs a surpriseâ heâs never gotten off at Astor before, and when he doesnât take the option of heading in another direction but instead falls into lockstep next to you, you seize the opportunity.
âAstor Place today, huh?â You hope the observation still falls into the category of ânoticing a normal amountâ.
âYeah, first day of a new gig. What about you? Class?â
You nod. âPretty standard stuff. But we start a new unit today, so thatâs fun.â
âYou in grad school too?â
âYup, MFA in studio art.â You canât help but tease, just a little. âOnly one masterâs degree for me, Iâm such a slacker.â
His eyes squint again as he smiles. âHey, Iâm just glad youâre not, like, eighteen.â
âI thought that too!â You keep talking before you can stop yourself. âI mean, when I was⊠noticing. I distinctly remember thinking, like, please let me not be thirsting over a straight-up child right now.â
âAhh...â Subway Boy trails off, and you can see a faint pink starting to blossom in the apples of his cheeks. âYou were thirsting?â
You canât help but scrunch your nose up slightly, resisting the urge to full-body cringe at your own stupid mouth. âWe are now officially both creepy.â
He fidgets a little with the strap of the dance bag slung over his shoulder. âHopefully Iâm living up to the hype.â
Youâre grateful to reach the art building before you can dig your grave any deeper. You nod your head in the direction of the glass doors as you slow to a stop, and he does, too. âThis is me.â
âItâs actually me, too,â he remarks, glancing up at the building as if to double-check. âBut I have a little bit, so Iâm gonna grab a coffee I think. But it was nice to finally talk to you. Not thatâ sorry, that was weird. Take out the finally. It was good to talk. Meet a fellow starving artist and all.â
You worry your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, until you finally work up the courage to ask the question. âDo you have a name?â
âOh!â His eyes widen, more heat-blush coloring his face. âYeah. Park Jimin. Probably couldâve led with that.â
You give him your name, and his voice is like music when he repeats it back.
âWell, good luck in class,â Jimin says with a nod. âAnd hopefully Iâll see you around sometime.â A smile toys at the corner of his mouth, and then he pauses as his words seem to catch up to him. âWell, I mean. I guess I know I will. On theâ trainâ yeah, Iâm gonna go before I say any more stupid things.â
âBye Jimin,â you giggle, and he gives a shy departing wave before he spins on his heel. As he walks away, you canât help but notice the way he drops his gaze and shakes his head, like heâs thoroughly embarrassed by his social performance.
And just like that, Subway Boy has a nameâ one that loops in your head as you float to class, barely feeling your feet touch the floor. Park Jimin. Itâs sweet like him, warm sunshine in your veins as you shoulder open the door to the studio, grab a seat, and start to get set up.
A voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin as Kim Taehyung leans in, having occupied the seat next to you while you were off in la-la land. âKnow what the new unit is?â You start to shake your head, then realize it was a rhetorical question when he waggles his eyebrows and continues. âLife drawing. Ready for some naked people?â
You roll your eyes and grab at the strings of his gray beanie, pulling it down over his fluffy hair and eyes in one swift tug. âBro, we are literally in grad school. Stop acting like a virgin.â
âLike you werenât thinking it too,â he grumbles to himself as he shoves the hat back up his forehead.
You shoot him a look as your professor signals the class to settle and launches in. Itâs the same routine as each unit youâve rotated through in your graduate studio, so you only half-listen, mostly distracted by Taehyung tearing open the paper wrapper of a red heart-shaped lollipop and popping it into his mouth. His latest oral fixation in his millionth attempt to quit vaping.
You lean down to dig into your bag, trying to ignore the sound of hard candy clacking against teeth as you fish out both pencils and charcoal to give yourself options. You pull a couple of each out of their cases, glancing up in an attempt to refocus on the professor, who is still talking.
It takes a second for your brain to process the image in front of you. His shy smile has been replaced with a serious, professional expression, but thereâs no questioning the familiar face, the posture, the silver jewelry, the way he reaches up to run a hand through his hair. Subway Boy Park Jimin is standing in the center of the room, wearing a short black satin dressing gown.
Your jaw goes slack. It feels like it happens in slow motion as you watch Jiminâs strong hands move down to undo the sash at his waist before he shrugs off the flimsy fabric and lets it fall to the floor. And then heâs not wearing anything at all.
You lose your grip entirely on your handful of pencils, and they hit the studio floor with a clatter that certainly feels deafening, each one choosing to roll off in a different direction.
Taehyung glances over at you, brow slightly creased. The lollipop tucked in his cheek impedes his speech slightly, but not enough that you canât understand him. âNow whoâs the virgin?â
You crouch down, praying that maybe you can gather your things unnoticed, but it already feels like every pair of eyes in the room is burning a hole in your back. To his credit, Taehyung at least helps a little, extending a sandaled foot to kick any pencils he can reach over towards you. You scramble around the room to chase after the rest, and you canât bear to look up and see if Jimin is watching you or not. Youâre not sure which would be worse.
Fighting the urge to army crawl out of the room, you grip both hands tightly around your materials as you return to your seat, then tuck everything into the tray of the easel in front of you. Youâre a professional, you tell yourself. Itâs not like itâs your first time drawing someone nude.
Itâs just your first time doing it when you happen to have a crush on them.
But itâs fine. You let out an exhale to ground yourself, then pick up a pencil. Itâs just a body.
You vaguely recall hearing your professor explain that youâd be moving through ten quick-sketch poses to begin with, each held for only a few minutes, before switching to a few longer sessions for the rest of class. As you were too busy chasing your pencils around the room, youâve missed the first pose entirely, and you have to work quickly to get a very rough outline of the second before Jimin moves again at the professorâs instruction.
He switches so fluidly from one pose to the next, and you have so little time, itâs enough to get you out of your head just trying to keep up. You find yourself falling comfortably into a flow state, focused on little more than lines and shapes in front of you and the act of reproducing them on your page. Itâs an exercise you know well, and the repetition of it soothes you.
The studio is quiet, save for the scratching of pencils on paper and the soft classical music your professor has switched on.
By the time you finish sketching the tenth pose, it feels like you can breathe a little easier, and your professor offers Jimin a quick break just as you lean back to admire your work. You do your best to quickly duck behind your easel as he stretches, then reaches for a bottle of water set on a nearby table.
Taehyung removes his sheet of sketches and sets it aside before leaning in, pressing his face against his easel to match yours. âHeâs cute. Bet he gets like, infinite ass-pussy. Just the absolute most.â
âShut up, Tae!â You jerk your foot out to kick the leg of his chair, and a boxy grin stretches over his face as he giggles. You stare daggers back. âYouâre too damn horny today. Like you didnât just get your ass eaten in the supply closet last week.â The rumor had spread through your cohort practically overnightâ probably started by Taehyung himself.
The menace in question shoots you an over-exaggerated wink. âAnd Iâd do it again, too.â
You roll your eyes. âNasty.â
The professor claps to get everyoneâs attention again, and you peer around your easel to watch as Jimin resumes his place at the center of the room. You settle in for the first of a few longer, more detailed sketches, trying desperately to keep your cool about it. But Jimin is unquestionably gorgeous.
He turns to the side for the first pose, arms wrapped around his muscular torso and eyes downcast, fingertips and thumb resting over his neck and chin as if to cradle his own face in his hand. After a long stretch of time where you manage to get most of a sketch done, the professor cues him to move into a second pose, and he faces the back wall, reaching up to drape his arms over each other, crossed wrists resting delicately on the crown of his head.
You could easily see him as a statue carved out of marble, and you try to ignore the flutter of your heartbeat as you attempt to translate his beauty onto your page each time. You have to hold in several sighs as you work on outlining the strong, toned muscles of his back and thighsâ not to mention his perky ass. You canât help but wonder if the rest of the class is struggling silently, too.
Youâre beginning to think you might survive after all when the professor asks Jimin to move again and he does, shaking his body out slightly before reaching to grab a provided stool and shift it to the center of the room. He takes a seat, abdominals flexing as he leans back on his hands and unabashedly lets his legs fall open.
Fuck. You nearly snap your pencil in half.
You try desperately to keep it together as you start your third sketch with unsteady hands. The minutes tick by, and you arenât aware of Taehyungâs eyes on your paper until you hear his stupid whisper again. âWhy arenât you drawing his dick?â
Heâs not wrong. There is a noticeable blank spot at the center of your page. âIâm getting there,â you huff. âWorry about your own sketch, Tae.â
âGirl, you are literally doing detail shading on his legs and he doesnât even have a penis. What is he, a Ken doll?â
You grit your teeth and refuse to dignify Taehyung with a response. Fine. You can do this, you tell yourself. Donât think. Just look and draw. Itâs not a big deal.
With a hard swallow, you trace your eyes down his body, and⊠well, you donât know what you were expecting. Itâs just a soft penis resting limp between his legs, framed by an extremely regular pair of balls. Nothing scary, though you canât quite will the heat back out of your face, canât manage to silence the recurring thought that makes your stomach dropâ itâs cute.
You resist the urge to smack your head against your easel as you finally fill in your sketchâs dick.
You somehow manage to survive the rest of class, but relief still floods your veins when your professor signals for everyone to wrap up what theyâre doing for the day. Jimin starts to come alive again from the fixed pose, tilting his head to one side until something cracks audibly in his neck. You tear your gaze away for fear that his eyes might find yours, and shove everything into your bag as quickly as you can, not even caring what ends up where.
âWhereâs the fire?â Taehyung questions beside you, but you ignore him.
You zip your bag up and sling it over your shoulder, then make a beeline for the exit, keeping your eyes fixed firmly on the floor. Itâs only once the studio door swings shut behind you that you feel like you can breathe again, and you have to keep yourself from outright sprinting to your next class.
~*~
The rest of the day rushes by in an overwhelming blur, your focus entirely shot by the events of the morning. You collapse into a seat on your train home, hugging your bag to your chest, thankful for the first time in your life to not be sharing a subway car with Park Jimin.
When you turn your keys in the lock and stumble in the front door of the apartment, the divine smell of what could only be Yoongiâs cooking immediately hits you full-force. You find him in the kitchen with a towel thrown over his shoulder, searing a large steak in a cast iron pan for what must be a planned date night with Namjoon.
You wrap your arms around his tiny waist from behind as you approach. He responds with his usual greeting: a soft grunt of mild discomfort.
âCan I ask you a question?â you ask, trying to sound as sweet as possible.
âYou just did,â Yoongi notes.
You decide to let his sass go, since you really do need help. âTwo more?â Yoongi hums, somewhat affirmative, and you continue. âI know you work like 47 jobs and never get any time offââ
âSome of us have to pay rent without the luxury of stipends or rich parents, yesââ
âBut is there any way I could⊠maybe possibly encroach upon your date night just this once? Itâs an emergency. I need advice.â
Yoongi sighs, and you shift to peek over his shoulder, arms still wrapped around him as you watch the way he tilts the pan to one side, collecting butter on a spoon to baste over the steak as it cooks. You squish your cheek into his bicep.
âLucky for you,â he begins, his tone relenting, âNamjoonie just called. Theyâve got him working late to prep for the exhibition next month. So date night was canceled anyway.â
âAw, Yoongiiiii.â You squeeze him tight enough that he makes another disgruntled noise, and you finally release your grip. âIâll be your girlfriend tonight.â
He rolls his eyes, but willingly plays along. âThen get the wine, darling?â
You fall into a typical routine: Yoongi pulls a tray of roasted vegetables out of the oven as he lets the steak rest, while you grab a bottle of red at his instruction and fight with the corkscrew in an attempt to get it open. Yoongi watches you, slow-blinking, unamused.
âYou wouldnât last an hour in the restaurant industry.â
âEither help me, or shut up,â you hiss through clenched teeth.
When you finally get settled at your tiny kitchen table, Yoongi nods as if to prompt you while he fills each wine glass with a heavy pour. âLetâs hear it.â
You take a deep breath before launching in and recounting the events of your day, trying not to choke as you simultaneously stuff your face with food. Yoongi eats and listens quietly, no discernible reaction on his face save the occasional lift of his eyebrows. He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest as you finish detailing the way you ran out of the studio the minute class ended.
âAlright. So you saw Subway Boy naked, big deal. Do you know how many dicks Iâve seen?â
You groan. âSpare me the details, please.â
âBut this is what you wanted, right?â You shrug, and he rolls his eyes. âDonât play coy now. Youâve been lusting after this kid for months like a weirdo. So why are you stressed?â
âBecause!â you huff, frustrated. âItâsâ itâs out of order. Itâs not like he chose to get naked in front of me specifically, he obviously just thought it was going to be a roomful of strangers. And it seemed like maybe we could be friends or something, but now I donât know if I should keep pursuing that or just leave him alone. I want to be respectful, but I donât want him to think I took one look at his penis and decided I didnât like him anymore, but then itâs like, how do I hold a conversation when he and I both know I have seen his penis, not only seen but studied it, drawn it, and will continue to, weekly, in detail, from multiple anglesââ
âYou are absolutely overthinking this,â Yoongi laughs into his glass of wine, downing the rest before he continues. âJust get on the fucking train and say hi like a normal, well-adjusted human. This is my advice to you.â
You sigh as you shove a roasted potato in your mouth. âAt least youâre a good cook.â
âIâm a great cook,â Yoongi corrects you as he gets to his feet. âNow help me with these dishes.â
~*~
Yoongiâs advice continues to echo in your brain as you lapse back into something like normalcy for the rest of the week.
When the day of your studio class rolls around again, you find yourself hustling not to miss the train, having hit snooze on your alarm a few too many times that morning. You fly down the subway steps just as the 6 is pulling into the station, and you try to ignore the way your pulse is already quickening, telling yourself itâs just from rushing and nothing else.
Pulling the strap of your bag up on your shoulder, you make it to the platform just as the train doors slide open, and your heart instantly leaps into your throat. There he is, leaning against a pole, overwhelmingly beautiful as ever. Park Jimin.
Heâs scrolling through something on his phone and hasnât yet looked up to notice you, and you find yourself frozen in place, jostled angrily by commuters exiting and boarding the train on either side of you.
Panic floods your veins. Thereâs no time to talk yourself off the ledge, no time to remember Yoongiâs words of wisdom, no time to do anything but make a snap decision. So you do the only thing that feels right: you turn around and sprint back up the stairs and out of the subway station.
The sidewalk is equally bustling, and you try to dodge people while you think through what to do despite the way your head is spinning. You were already going to be cutting it close for time today, and you donât exactly have the disposable income for a taxi or an Uber. As you try to settle your racing thoughts, your eyes alight on a rack of Citibikes.
Fuck it. You donât have a better option. Securing your bag on your back, you quickly scan the code to unlock the bike, then shove your phone in your pocket and swing your leg over the seat.
Youâve never biked in Manhattan traffic before, but it canât be that difficult, you tell yourself. Definitely easier than sharing a subway car with Park Jimin.
Thankfully the street youâre on has a defined bike path, and you do your best to follow the flow of traffic, squeezing your hand brakes to slow to a stop when you hit a red light. Itâs been years since youâve ridden a bike that wasnât stationary, but it comes back to you relatively easily, likeâ well, riding a bike.
When you hit a long stretch of green lights, you do your best to pick up speed, trying to make up for lost time. An approaching red light threatens to slow you down again, and you breathe a sigh of relief as it flips to green at the last possible second.
Just as your front tire rolls into the intersection, a deafening car horn nearly gives you a heart attack. You instinctively slam your grip tight around your brakes, and your bike screeches to a halt so fast youâre almost flung over the handlebars. A taxi just barely veers around you as it plows down the intersecting avenue, and you gasp for air, adrenaline coursing through your system.
Holy shit.
You drop one foot to the ground for leverage as you try to get your pulse back under controlâ youâre pretty sure you just saw your life flash before your eyes. Reality feels a million miles away, but youâre vaguely aware of someone shouting after the car as it speeds down the street.
âFucking asshole!â
It takes a few seconds for you to realize that itâs a familiar voice, and when you do, you whip around as best you can with a bike between your legs.
âYoongi?!â
âOh my god,â Yoongi groans, knuckles blanching as he presses down on his own brakes. âWhat the fuck are you doing?â
You squint, taking in the helmet strapped over his wavy dark hair and the insulated bag tucked into the basket on the front of his bike. âSince when do you deliver food?â
He grimaces, speaking up to be heard over the noise of traffic. âI just do it to make extra money when my hours suck.â
âWhat about the coffee shop?â
He shakes his head. âThey only have me opening Mondays and Wednesdays right now.â
âWhat about the bar?â
âThatâs just weekends, reliably. Sometimes extra evenings, but only if someone calls out.â
âWhat about theââ
âChrist, woman!â Yoongi cuts you off with a growl. âThe foodâs gonna get cold if I have to sit here and run through my entire rĂ©sumĂ© with you! Are you alright? Why arenât you taking the subway?â
âBecause!â you snap back. âThere is a man on that train whose dick Iâve seen and I⊠I donât know how to handle it! Okay?!â Though you donât intend to raise your voice, it comes out loud enough that a group of high school kids on their phones exchange stifled giggles as they fast-walk around you.
âWell you need to be fucking careful,â Yoongi chides. âBiking in the city is not for the faint of heart. And if Iâm not allowed to give in to my suicidal ideation, youâre not allowed to crack your head open on the pavement all because youâre trying to avoid a penis.â
âFine,â you spit back through gritted teeth. âNow if youâll excuse me, I need to get to class.â You push off the asphalt, legs still shaking a little with excess nerves as you re-find your balance and make your way cautiously through the intersection.
The rush of wind in your ears isnât quite loud enough to drown out Yoongi calling after you as you bike away. âItâs only weird if you make it weird!â
When you somehow make it to Astor Place in one piece, you dock your bike and quickly sprint to the building, well aware that youâre already late. Itâs only once you push the studio door open that you realize how truly frazzled and out of breath you are, and though you keep your gaze fixed on the floor, you can feel every pair of eyes in the room on you. You hold a hand up in an apologetic wave and hurry to find your seat.
Trying to collect yourself, you begin to unpack your materials as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the class. You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear Kim Taehyungâs voice beside you.
âYouâre sweaty. Why are you so sweaty?â
Heâs got an eyebrow cocked when you look over, and you give him the most powerful death glare you can muster, enough that it must actually scare him. âShutting up now,â Taehyung murmurs, voice shaking slightly as he returns to his own sketches, and you huff an exhale as you attempt to catch up to the rest of the group.
Class passes surprisingly quickly once you manage to get your breath back, much in the same way it did the week prior: you do your best to compartmentalize the body in front of you from the human person you have a giant, embarrassing crush on. It goes decently well in the moments where Jimin is frozen in a fixed pose, just lines and curves and light and shadow for you to emulate. During the breaks when he comes alive again, you hide out behind your easel, trying to ignore Taehyungâs inane bullshit and wishing you could disappear entirely.
The second your professor dismisses everyone for the day, you stuff your things back into your bag, hoping to once again speed-walk out of the room.
But despite your better judgment, you canât help yourself this time. As you get to your feet, you glance up to watch Jimin pull his dressing gown back on, only to realize his eyes are already on you.
Youâre distinctly aware of how much of a mess you must look from biking over, and the fact that you almost assuredly smudged charcoal on your face when you reached up absentmindedly to scratch an itch mid-sketch.
Jiminâs plush lips turn up in the smallest of smiles, and the bottom drops out of your stomach.
With a hard swallow, you avert your gaze from his, sling your bag over your shoulder, and quickly make your escape through the studio door. You can feel your pulse pounding in your throat even after heâs out of your sight, and your hands shake like a leaf all the way to your next class.
~*~
That night, sleep evades you until the early hours of the morning, and it feels like youâve only just begun to doze off when the harsh noise of your alarm pulls you up from dreaming. You roll over in bed and glare accusingly at your phone, then shut it off, promptly letting the waves drag you under once more, seminar be damned.
Itâs nearly noon when you finally make it out of bed and stumble into the living room in your sweats. Namjoon is curled up in his reading chair, a feat for someone of his size, surrounded as always by his massive stack of ever-changing âto readâ books. He glances up from the one thatâs open on his lap, clearly surprised to see you.
âNo class?â Namjoonâs voice is rough-edged, like heâs only just woken up himself.
âSkipped,â you grunt. His eyes track you as you cross the room and collapse face-first onto the couch.
âIs this about the penis?â
The cushion muffles your groan. âNot you too.â
You hear the distinct fluttering sound of Namjoon closing his book and shifting in his seat to give you his undivided attention. âSeems like you want to talk about it.â
You turn your head to the side to take in your roommate. âMaybe. Are you gonna give me the same stupid advice your boyfriend did?â
He smiles softly, one dimple flexing at the corner of his mouth. âI can try to be gentler.â
You huff as you flip onto your side, pressing your palms together and slipping them under your cheek. âSounds like youâve got the details already, so please. Enlighten me. Tell me how Iâm supposed to handle seeing this guy naked once a week in the name of art.â
âDidnât William Blake say âArt can never exist without naked beauty displayedâ?â Namjoon poses it like a serious question, brow creased as if in contemplation, and you roll your eyes.
âI donât know, Joon, did he? I said enlighten me, not write me a thesis.â You reach up to grab a couch pillow and fling it in his direction, missing by several inches. âDid Blake have anything in there on dealing with a naked crush and trying not to make it weird as fuck?â
âWell, does he seem weirded out by it?â Namjoon counters, patient as ever.
âI donât know.â You shrug unsurely as you play back your last interaction with Jimin. âHe smiled at me yesterday, at the end of class.â
Namjoon steeples his fingers together, leaning forward slightly in his chair, interest clearly piqued. âOkay, and what did you do?â
You squeeze your eyes shut. âI⊠threw all my shit in my bag and ran out of the room.â When you crack an eye open again, you can see Namjoon trying and failing to keep the smug smile off his face, his dimples giving him away.
âMaybe you could try smiling back next time?â he gently suggests.
You sigh, because you know heâs right. âYou make it sound so easy. Whatâs next? Youâre going to tell me to talk to him?â
He laughs a little. âIâd quote another poet, but I fear you might launch more projectiles at me.â
You narrow your eyes at him. âLetâs hear it, nerd.â
Namjoon clears his throat for dramatic effect before launching into a recitation. ââItâs cool, not tryna put a rush on you / I had to let you know, that I got a crush on you.ââ
Thereâs a wide grin on his face as you sit all the way up. âDid you just quote Biggie Smalls at me?â
âHey, I appreciate all forms of poetry.â
You feign annoyance, but you canât quite hide the smile beneath it, and you get to your feet as Namjoon continues to mumble a verse of Crush on You under his breath. âWhatever. I need to do laundry.â
âOhââ Namjoon pauses to interrupt himself. âLuckyâs closed, by the way.â
Already halfway out of the living room, you whip around again at the mention of the laundromat youâve been exclusive with for the last few years. âWhat?â
He nods solemnly. âMe and Yoongi found out the hard way last week. Theyâre putting in an Equinox.â
Your face twists in disgust. âA stupid bougie gym?! Youâve got to be kidding me. Where am I supposed to wash my fucking clothes?â
âWe found a place a few blocks up. Quick Clean, or something like that.â Namjoon shifts to dig his phone out of his pocket. âIâll send you the address. Itâs not bad, just a little more expensive.â
âThis is such bullshit,â you groan as you stomp back into your bedroom, the day already off to a terrible start.
In a gentrification-induced rage, you angrily shove the contents of your overflowing laundry hamper into the giant yellow IKEA bag hung up in your closet, just barely managing to fit it all. Glancing at the mirror on the back of the door, you briefly consider changing out of your sweats, or at the very least doing something with your hair, but you shrug it offâ itâs not like youâre trying to impress anyone at the damn laundromat.
You grab your headphones off your desk and sling them around your neck, double-check that your sketchbook is still tucked into your bag, then lug everything out to the front hallway. You pull your slides off the shoe rack and slip your socked feet into them.
âBye, nerd!â you call over your shoulder to Namjoon before the front door slams shut behind you.
By the time you make it to the weird new laundromat, youâre sweaty and pissed off. You knew the walk to Luckyâs by heart, but you had to do this one while looking down at your phone GPS and trying not to get hit by a car. Not an easy feat while carrying every article of clothing you own over one shoulder.
You miss the way the nice old man who owned Luckyâs would greet you warmly and sneak you a cup of coffee from his pot in the back, the way his cat would roll over on the front counter for belly rubs, the way there was always a deeply entertaining telenovela playing on the ancient tiny TV.
The stupid Quick Clean has none of these things, just a shitty pile of magazines in the seating area and weirdly sticky floors. You slam into the front door a little harder than is necessary to push it open, the bell tinkling violently overhead as you enter. The only compliment you can give the place is that itâs relatively dead, save for a couple people on their phones or half-asleep in chairs as they wait on their stuff, and two guys in the corner loading armfuls of wet clothes into a pair of dryers.
You grab a machine a respectful distance away from them and swing the door open when a laugh thatâs nearly musical gives you pause. Unable to shake a sense of familiarity, you glance over at your neighbors again, just in time to see one of them reach up to run a hand through his honey blonde hair.
Your IKEA bag hits the sticky floor with an audible thud as panic kickstarts your heart.
This isnât fucking happening. Of all the laundromats in New York City, you did not just manage to stumble into the one currently being used by Park Jimin.
But even before you can catch a glimpse of his profile, youâre already certain it canât be anyone else. Youâve spent too much time familiarizing yourself with the slope of his neck, the definition of his forearms, his dainty hands. Thereâs no mistaking them, adorned today with several silver rings that catch the dim fluorescent light as he grabs more of his clothes from the washer.
The desperate need to turn around and run rises up in your chest, just as before, but this time you steel yourself. You canât keep running away foreverâ particularly not when you pulled on your last clean pair of underwear this morning.
A rush of heat floods your face at the thought of the many pairs of underwear in your bag that will soon be sent spinning around this washing machine, where Jimin could easily see, but then it occurs to you that you have seen his penis. Maybe the trade-off will put you on slightly more equal footing.
But you really donât need to be thinking about Park Jiminâs penis in this laundromat right now.
Shaking your head slightly to try and banish the thought, you set about your laundry routine, trying not to drop any unmentionables on the floor when you dump the contents of your tote into the washer. You dig quarters out of your bag and slot them into the machine, then press the button to start the cycle.
With a final exhale to steady yourself, you turn to look over your shoulder again, only to find Jimin leaning up against the empty dryer next to his, unabashedly watching you with a small smile on his face.
It occurs to you now that you couldnât have put less effort into your appearance if you tried, and youâre suddenly hyper-aware of every random stain on your sweatpants and your extremely fashionable socks and slides combination. Jiminâs just in a white t-shirt and a pair of distressed jeans today, but literally everything looks fresh off the runway on him. You suppress the urge to walk out the door and go lay down in traffic, and instead take Namjoonâs advice: you smile back and even lift your hand in a shy wave.
You drop into an empty chair across from your machine and watch as Jimin starts to cross the room to join you, his eyes never leaving yours. Before he can make it, you suddenly become aware of someone else sliding into the seat beside you.
âYou didnât tell me she was cute, Jimin-ah!â
Eyes wide, you turn to see Jiminâs friend sprawled out next to you, one arm draped lazily over the back of your chair. His wavy dark hair peeks out from under a lime green beanie, and heâs swimming in an oversized long sleeve tucked into baggy pants, cinched tight at the waist with a Gucci belt.
âJung Hoseok,â he gives you a nod. âFriends call me Hobi. You can call me whatever you like.â The way his wide smile pulls his mouth heart-shaped makes you giggle a little, slightly dazed by whatever the fuck is happening right now.
You hear Jimin sigh as he takes the open seat on your other side. âPlease ignore Hoseokâs tendency to come on way too strong. If it makes you feel any better, heâs as gay as they come.â
Hoseok flicks his wrist just so. âGuilty as charged.â
âOh, itâs okay,â you say with a shrug, your gaze flitting from Jimin to Hoseok and back again. âI have two gay roommates, so.â
Hoseok hums, clearly interested. âGay together or gay separately?â
âGay together.â
He narrows his eyes. âOpen to a third?â
You canât help but laugh at the unexpected question. âUh, Iâd have to ask.â
He looks like heâs going to say more, but Jimin interjects. âHoseokâ can we get a minute?â
Hoseokâs lips pull together, fish-like, and he nods as he gets to his feet. âSay no more. Iâll just, uhâŠâ He fumbles, looking around for something to do, then crosses the room to take the open seat next to the sad pile of magazines. ââŠdo a little light reading.â He picks up one at the top of the stack, holding it up for you both to witness. âOh look, the queen died!â
You bite down on your bottom lip to suppress another laugh, but Jiminâs face is surprisingly serious when you look back at him. âI just want to say one thing,â he murmurs, voice low, âand then Iâll leave you alone.â
Nerves settle in the pit of your stomach like a heavy weight. âJimin,â you start, and when he opens his mouth to keep talking, you blurt out the first thing you can think of.
âIâm sorry,â you say in unison, and thereâs a beat where you both blink, equally taken aback by the otherâs apology. Itâs quiet apart from the rumble of the laundry machines and the distinct sound of Hoseok smacking the magazine over his mouth, clearly more invested in your plot line.
You break the silence first. âWait, why are you sorry?â
Jiminâs eyes drop down to the floor, one black boot toeing nervously at the tile. âI figured you were upset with me because I didnât warn you.â
Your eyes widen in surprise when you play your initial conversation back. âOh my godâ when I said graduate studio art, you⊠you knew.â
He nods, somewhat remorseful. âI was kind of hoping that maybe it would be a different class, but. Yeah. I figured. Iâm really sorry, I shouldâveââ
âNo, no,â you interrupt. âI get it. Iâm not mad, obviously I didnât even put it together until right now.â You pause for a second and canât help but smile a little. âAnd, I mean, how do you just casually work that into your first conversation with someone? âGreat talking to you, ready to see my dick in five minutes?ââ
Jiminâs head tips back when he laughs, his cheeks flushing a faint shade of pink. âRight.â
You can feel your own face grow hot as you realize what youâve just said. âGod, sorry, I didnât mean toâ clearly I donât know how to handle this. Thatâs why I wanted to apologize, for avoiding you and being weird.â You twist your hands uncomfortably in your lap. âIâve just never been in this situation before, and I wasnât sure if youâd still want to talk given⊠theâŠâ Every cell in your body screams at you not to say the word âdickâ again. âYeah. I thought it might be easier to keep my distance. Keep it separate.â
Jiminâs eyes drift back up to find yours, and his casual beauty is so stunning, itâs enough to knock the air out of your lungs. He shrugs softly. âI mean, maybe it would be. But I donât want to.â
âGreat,â you manage a laugh, still breathless. âBecause I nearly died on a Citibike the day I didnât take the subway.â
He laughs, too. âNot gonna lie, I missed seeing you on the train.â Youâre not expecting it when he extends a hand out. âFriends?â
You realize belatedly that heâs offering a handshake, and you gently take his hand in yours. His skin is soft and warm, a contrast to the cool metal of his rings that press into your palm as he squeezes.
âFriends,â you echo with a smile, squeezing back.
Thereâs a sudden thump and a cackle as Hoseok falls out of his chair with a peal of laughter. âYou are so fucking weird, Jimin-ah!â he gasps from his spot on the floor. âWho shakes hands?!â
The two of them keep you more than entertained until the buzzers on their dryers sound a second apart from each other. You learn that Hoseok and Jimin are roommates, that they met as dance majors in their undergrad program, and that Hoseok now works as an adjunct instructor and freelance choreographer.
âBecause some of us decided we wanted to actually make money instead of digging ourselves further into debt,â he explains with a sly grin and smack delivered to the back of Jiminâs head.
You watch as they meticulously fold, Hoseok regularly leaning over to redo Jiminâs work and chide him about wrinkles, and then they stack the clean laundry back into their bags and head for the exit.
âBye, new friend!â Hoseok calls as he maneuvers the door open with his foot, and Jimin pauses at the threshold, the bell overhead tinkling gently.
âSo⊠guess Iâll see you on the train?â he asks, like heâs still a little unsure, and your heartbeat flutters.
âGuess so.â
âCool.â He gives you one last soft smile before he disappears after Hoseok. The bell sounds again when the door shuts behind him, as if to snap you back to reality.
The floating feeling in your stomach doesnât quite dissipate even long after Jimin has left the laundromat. While you wait on your clothes, you flip to a blank page in your sketchbook and start on something new: the outline of a hand extended in mid-air, rings glinting like an offered promise.
~*~
The next week, Jimin is waiting for you on your morning subway ride, the dance bag that he usually keeps tucked between his legs set on the bench next to him. When he sees you step through the train doors at 51st, you watch him reach over to swing the bag down to its rightful place on the floor, freeing up the space. An open invitation.
You canât help but feel a little shy as you sink down next to him and murmur your thanks. Thereâs something about being this close to him that just makes your mind go blank, puts you at a loss for words entirely.
To your surprise, he doesnât try to strike up conversation either. Instead he plucks one fancy bluetooth earbud out of his ear, gives it a diplomatic swipe across the fabric of his joggers, then holds it up, pinched between his fingers in front of you.
Another invitation, you realize dumbly.
The corner of your mouth turns up as you pluck the bud out of his hand and press it into your own ear. The music that must have paused itself upon the earbudâs removal resumes, and your smile grows when Jimin quickly unlocks his phone to restart the song from the beginning.
An acoustic guitar and a light, pretty voice fill your ear, underscored by a gentle yet driving beat, not unlike the rumble of the train beneath your feet. Itâs like the rest of the world fades away to nothing as you stare down at his sneakers next to your shoes, hyper-aware of the mere inch or two of space between you in this moment.
As if to prove your point, the train comes to a sharp stop, enough to make you slide a little on the bench and then youâre suddenly not just close but touching, all the way down, an unbroken line from shoulder to hip to knee.
When you look over in surprise, Jimin is already looking back at you. You swear you can feel warmth radiating out from him at every point where your bodies press together.
After another dazed moment, you come to your senses enough to scoot over, breaking the contact with an embarrassed laugh as you feel your face grow hot.
Your gaze drifts back down to the floor, only to snap up again at another brush of contact, this one not initiated by you or by the motion of the train. Instead, you realize Jimin has spread his legs an inch wider to purposefully touch his knee to yours again and leave it there. You blink softly as you look over at him, but heâs staring firmly out the window of the subway car now, smiling with just his eyes.
For the rest of the ride, you think of little else but Jiminâs knee pressed against yours and the pretty pink flush in his cheeks.
You stay in comfortable silence, music floating in your ears as you exit the train at Astor Place together, until you reach the studio, where you finally return the borrowed earbud. He smiles as he tucks them both back into the case, then pushes open the door and gestures for you to enter first.
Jimin shoots you a final look before your paths diverge, and you sink into your seat with a small, dreamy sigh. Your bliss is short-lived when you hear Taehyungâs voice over your shoulder.
âThat was fast.â
You whip around to shoot him a look. âWhat was fast?â
He makes a face, like itâs obvious. âYouâre already banging the model and itâs been, what, two weeks?â
Taehyungâs just close enough that you can lean forward and smack him on the arm, and he hisses in a way that has to be an exaggeration. Thankfully he seems to take the hint, and manages to actually keep his mouth shut as the professor commands everyoneâs attention at the center of the room.
When Jimin emerges in the usual black satin, you try to keep your composure, but you canât ignore the chill that dots up your spine when he lets the fabric fall to the floor.
Nevertheless, you sink into the routine of class, the thrill of Jiminâs naked body now equal parts familiar and exhilarating. The only difference is that today, when youâre dismissed, you make no effort to quickly pack up. You instead purposefully take your time, adding a few extra details to your last sketch before you finally start putting things away. Your gaze flickers up distractedly to see Jimin pulling his dressing gown back over his body as he moves to close the distance between you.
âHi,â he says simply when he reaches your easel, and you smile.
âHi.â
âSorry, is, uhâ is it okay that I talk to you, when Iâmââ He gestures vaguely to his lower half with one hand, using the other to keep himself covered.
You swallow hard at the thin layer of fabric and everything you know lies beneath it. âYeah, itâs okay,â you say, hating how breathless you sound.
âWhen are you done with classes today?â
It takes an extra second for you to remember your own schedule. âUh, six.â
Jimin fidgets with the satin material in his hands, clearly a little uncomfortable. Or maybe nervous. âWould you⊠want to get dinner after? With me?â
Your stomach flutters as you nod. âYeah, yes. Iâd like that.â
~*~
When you emerge from your last class, you find Jimin waiting for you on Astor Place, and youâre not expecting it when he greets you with a single question: âDo you like sushi?â You answer affirmatively, and he nods over his shoulder. âThen letâs walk this way.â
You end up tucked into two seats at a place youâve never been to before, where rolls and other plates of food zip past you on a steadily moving conveyor belt. Jimin shows you how to pop the plates out from their protective domes, and you gather a small feast of options on the table between you to share.
âSo,â you start with a nervous smile, chopsticks hovering in midair. âCan I ask the obvious question?â
He quirks an eyebrow, intrigued. âWhatâs that?â
âWhat made you decide to nude model?â The words alone send fresh waves of heat and nerves through you, sparkling in your chest. âOr have you done it before?â
âI havenât,â Jimin confirms with a shake of his head, then he pops a piece of sushi in his mouth as if to buy himself time. He chews, bringing a hand up as he speaks with his mouth still half-full. âDo you want the real answer?â
You nod, and his adamâs apple jerks as he swallows. Thereâs a look on his face like he isnât quite sure what to say, and then he exhales a weighty sigh. âIâve struggled with my body for a really long time. Especially in undergrad.â
Your eyes widen slightlyâ you werenât expecting such a serious response.
âDance doesnât typically have the best culture for that to begin with,â he continues, âand Iâd spend literally all day staring at myself in a mirror, so I would just⊠pick myself apart. Always convinced I wasnât good enough, that I needed to lose more weight, always.â
The thought of it makes your heart ache, but you let him talk.
âIâm through the worst of it now, so please donât feel like you need to be worried. But I have some friends whoâve done this kind of thing before and it seemed like, I donât know, a good challenge?â His brow creases, contemplative. âI really love art, so I thought maybe if I did it, I might be able to see my body in a new way, through the eyes of other people. Of artists.â He pauses, then nods, like heâs said his piece.
It takes you a second to respond. âThatâs⊠beautiful, Jimin.â
He looks down, clearly a little uncomfortable. âSorry if that was too heavy.â
âI can take it,â you say softly, and itâs enough to make him glance back up in surprise. âThank you for telling me.â
A faint color floods his face. âThanks for listening.â
You eat in a silence thatâs oddly comfortable, and when you both reach for the same piece of sushi and end up knocking chopsticks together, he lets you have it, picking up the thread of conversation again as he smiles. âWhat got you into art?â
You make a face, chased by an unsure shrug. âIs it bad if I say itâs the only thing I feel like Iâm good at?â
Jimin laughs a little. âI donât know that I believe you.â
âI mean,â you lean back in your seat. âMaybe not the only thing, but Iâve just never been able to see myself doing anything else. Iâm not cut out for the corporate life, as much as my parents wish I was. Artâs always been the thing that I go to in my free time. When Iâm feeling so much that itâs overwhelming, or so numb that itâs like I canât feel anything, the act of creating something just⊠brings me back to center again.â You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. âItâs an outlet, I guess.â
âWell, if it helps, youâre very good at it.â
âThanks,â you say with a small smile. âBut itâs not even about being good, at least not to me. Maybe it sounds weird, but I donât really have any interest in being the best. Itâs art, so itâs all subjective anyway. I just wanna make stuff.â
Jimin smirks as he adds another empty plate to the growing stack in front of you, tongue poking briefly at the inside of his cheek before he speaks. âI could stand to be more like you.â
âYour turn,â you shoot back. âWhy dance?â
At this, he actually brings a hand up to cover his face, and his voice is muffled under his palm when he responds. âI can tell you exactly why, but itâs embarrassing.â
You shift a little in your chair to get a better look at him. âDonât be embarrassed! Itâs not like Iââ you cut yourself off before you can very obviously finish the sentence with âhavenât seen your dickâ, and you shove a piece of sushi in your mouth to shut yourself up, so fast you nearly choke.
Jimin laughs loudly into his hands, and then youâre laughing too, dropping your head down on the table to try and chew your food without asphyxiating.
âOkay, okay,â he gasps when he can finally manage to take a breath in. âIâll tell you.â
He sets his chopsticks down, overly serious. âWhen I was little, I was obsessed with Titanic. Specifically the scene where they dance together, and Rose rises up on her toes in front of everyone.â There are practically stars in his eyes as he recounts the moment, and you canât bear to cut him off. âI just thought she was so beautiful, and I wanted to be like that. Almost broke my toes trying to go en pointe barefoot like an idiot.â
Youâre silent for a moment, and thereâs a flicker of panic in Jiminâs face, like heâs worried he overshared. âI have to be honest,â you say softly. âIâve never seen Titanic.â
His eyes nearly pop out of his head. âWhat?!â
Already expecting the reaction, you grimace and nod. âI know, I know. Everyone gets mad at me for it. Go ahead.â
Jiminâs eyes flit from your face to the remaining piece of sushi on the plate between you, then back again. âI mean, we can go solve this problem right now, if you want.â He pauses, then admits with a giggle, âI have it on DVD.â
You shrug, trying to act casual despite the way your pulse has started to quicken. âThey canceled my morning seminar for tomorrow, so Iâm down.â
He leans forward to steal the last piece of sushi with a smug smile. âThen letâs get out of here.â
Itâs a short train ride back to Jiminâs place, and you make it in the front door just in time to see Hoseok slipping out of what looks to be his bedroom. You barely process him as the same personâ tonight his dark hair is swept off his forehead, and heâs in nice dress pants and a white button-down, unbuttoned just enough to display the delicate spread of his collarbone.
âHi kids!â he calls in greeting, and you wave back as you kick your shoes off.
Hoseok crosses to grab a mirrored pair of aviators and his keys off the table by the front door. âDaddyâs going out. You two have fun, donât do anything I wouldnât do.â He pauses for a moment, like heâs waiting for a joke to land, then cracks a grin. âBy which I obviously mean do whatever the fuck you want.â
As Hoseok pulls the door shut behind him, you follow Jimin into the living room, where you perch nervously on the edge of the couch while he disappears into the kitchen. âDo you like prosecco?â he asks, raising his voice slightly to be heard.
âUh, I think so,â you say unsurely. âI donât think I ever developed enough of a palette to have wine preferences.â
âWhite and sparkling?â
âSounds good,â you respond, and then you hear the distinct noise of a cork popping before he returns with a bottle and two glasses in hand. He sets everything on the coffee table as he takes a seat next to you, then leans forward to fill both glasses nearly to the brim.
Jiminâs face flushes when you giggle softly at the pour. âSorryâ I like to drink. You donât have to finish it all.â You shrug and take a healthy pull from your glass. Itâs crisp and light, with little bubbles that fizz and pop all the way down.Â
âHoseok calls me a lush,â he admits with a shy laugh as he picks up his own drink and turns to face you, sitting back against the arm of the couch. You shift to mirror him, curling your socked feet up under you. He takes a sip, then seems to think better of it, leaning forward to set his glass down on the table again. âI did want to tell you something. A couple of things, I guess.â
The sentence makes your stomach twist, and you try your best to ignore it. âWhatâs up?â
Jiminâs lips press together for a moment, as if heâs trying to figure out how to word whatever heâs about to say. âIâm not, like, trying to be presumptuous by telling you this but I justâ I donât want it to go unsaid and then come up later and be a whole big thing, so. I just want you to know that Hoseok is my ex.â
Your eyes widen in surprise. Youâre not sure what you were expecting, but certainly not that.
âWe dated freshman year of undergrad, for⊠maybe three months? It was the kind of thing where I knew I was bi in high school but was too scared to act on it, so when I moved to New York I just, like, dated the first gay person I met? Which was probably a little shitty of me. We quickly realized we work much better as friends, and it was a very mutual thing. No hard feelings.â
You nod slowly, trying to keep up. âAnd youâve lived together since then?â
âNo, no,â Jimin replies quickly, and he nearly grimaces as he continues. âAt the end of last semester, I, uh⊠I got out of a pretty bad long-term relationship.â The way he says it makes your heart sink a little. âAnd she and I lived together, so Hoseok was extremely gracious and offered to take me in.â
He reaches for his glass of wine again, then pauses with it halfway to his mouth. âIdeally the number of exes Iâd be living with would be zero, but. You know. This is definitely the better option, at least until I can figure out what comes next.â
A pause settles between you while he takes a long drink and you try to process all this new information. âIâm sorry about the breakup,â you say softly, and he shakes his head as he swallows.
âDonât be. It was a very good thing. Long overdue.â
âWell,â you correct yourself, the corners of your mouth pulling up. âThen Iâm sorry that it took so long.â
At this, he smiles back. âMe fuckinâ too.â
After one more sip, Jimin sets his wine back down on the coffee table, then rolls off the couchâ surprisingly gracefulâ to retrieve Titanic from the small collection of movies lined up on the shelf beneath the TV.
âReady?â
âThis better have a happy ending,â you murmur over the edge of your wine glass. Jimin laughs so hard he nearly tips over.
He settles next to you again as the movie starts, painted pretty in the blue glow of the TV, and you try your best to watch the movie, but itâs hard to keep your eyes off him. Partway through you notice him grab a pillow off the back of the couch and hug both of his arms around it, curling up small.
Cute, you canât help but think to yourself, and you can feel heat settle in your face as you try to refocus on the story.
When you reach the dancing scene Jimin sits up a little, lips parting slightly, that same starry look in his eyes as when he explained it initially. The mental image of a younger version of him equally enraptured by the moment nearly makes your chest cave in.
The movie goes on, and youâre draining the last of your second glass of wine when out of the corner of your eye, you see Jiminâs eyes go wide. Jack and Rose are closely examining a rare diamond necklace, and you donât understand what he could be reacting to until Kate Winslet delivers her next line.
âJack, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls.â
Your eyes go just as wide as Jiminâs, and you let out a laugh of disbelief thatâs nearly a scream. âOh my fucking god, Park Jimin! You did this on purpose!â
âI swear, I didnât! I didnât even think about that part until right now!â He shakes his head desperately as he gasps for air, and he doubles over with his own laughter, rolling right off the couch, arms still clutched tightly around his pillow.
âI literally cannot believe this.â You dissolve into giggles as you sink to your knees on the floor beside him, close to tears.
It takes time for you both to recover, but Jimin eventually manages to pull himself back up to sitting, shoulders still shaking slightly with laughter. He lets the pillow drop to the floor and presses both of his palms down into it as he leans towards you. âBut hey, maybe thatâs why I like you.â
Heâs so magnetic, so beautiful, you canât help but lean in, too. âYou like me?â
Thereâs a warm glow of color in his cheeks, and youâre not sure if you can blame it entirely on the wine. âI do.â
Your lingering smile slowly starts to soften, and now your heart feels like it might pound out of your chest. âSo what, youâre Rose and Iâm Jack?â
His gaze drops to your mouth, his voice barely more than a whisper as he murmurs, âUh-huhâ. Imaginary violins swell in your head as you surge forward to close the distance and press your lips to his.
Jiminâs lips are soft and warm, and your head spins as you sit up on your knees and lean into the kiss. While his mouth moves gently against yours, his palms press to the small of your back, and the heat of his hands radiates through the thin fabric of your shirt. You wrap your arms over his shoulders, partially for balance and partially in an attempt to pull him closer to you.
He tilts his head, and you whimper against him when you feel his tongue trace delicately over your bottom lip. He returns a breathy noise back as he licks slowly into your mouth, like heâs taking his time, like heâs not in any rush.
Even though you can feel your arousal starting to build, heavy in your gut and slick between your thighs, you realize: you want him to take his time with you.
Youâre surprised at the loss when he suddenly leans back, just enough to break the kiss, still keeping you held close. âIs it, umââ he clears his throat, then tries again. âI donât⊠want to go any further. Than this. At least not tonight. Is that okay?â
Your eyes search his, and youâre a little breathless when you manage to get the words out. âYeah. Yeah, of course. Iâm good with that. With whatever you want.â
âOkay.â You exhale a laugh when he reaches over to find the remote on the coffee table and pause the movie. âI want to keep kissing you, if thatâs alright.â
âYes, please,â you murmur against his lips.
Jimin shifts a little, and you follow his lead, letting him tip you backwards onto the floor, your arms still looped around his neck, one hand now tangling in his honey blonde hair. He drops a forearm down to the carpet beside you, his other hand coming to rest at the curve of your waist, knees bracketing your hips as he covers your body with his.
He alternates between sucking on your lower lip and gentle passes of his tongue into your mouth, the hand on your waist tracing a lazy path down to your hip and back up again. Something pulled tight inside you starts to slowly unwind, blooming open as you sink into the rhythm, into him.
Itâs been such a long time since youâve just kissed someone like this, without it feeling like part of a race to get naked. And youâve never been kissed like this in your lifeâ so soft, so attentive. Itâs enough to make you dizzy, even with your back pressed flat to the floor.
You lose track of how much time passes as you trade open-mouthed kisses on Jiminâs living room carpet, until he finally pulls away again. Still in a daze, you shift the hand in his hair to gently cup his face, not quite able to believe that heâs really real.
âGod,â Jimin breathes, laughing quietly to himself. âI really like you.â
You smile as you blink up at him. âI like you too, Jimin.âÂ
Rolling over, he drops down onto the floor next to you with a blissed-out sigh. He stretches his arms overhead, spine arching like a cat, then lifts up again to glance back at you. âDo you want more wine? âCause weâre only like halfway done. This movie is stupid long.â
âI could go for more,â you answer with a shrug, still smiling.
In one swift move, Jimin flips his legs over his head and effortlessly somersaults up to standing, and your eyes go wide. âHow do you fucking do that?!â
âIâm a trained professional!â he calls over his shoulder as he sashays into the kitchen.
You giggle a little. âI would break every bone in my body.â
Heâs humming prettily to himself, and you hear the sound of the fridge opening and closing, followed by the pop of another bottle being uncorked. You pull yourself back onto the couch as he rejoins you and pours fresh wine into both glasses, and a sudden curiosity urges you to ask a question. âIs Titanic your favorite movie?â
Jimin shakes his head, but says nothing, and the strange hesitant expression that flashes over his face just makes you that much more intrigued.
âLetâs hear it.â
His eyes flit over to you, then back to the wine glasses. âYouâll laugh.â
âI wonât!â you exclaim, lifting a hand when he scrunches up his nose, doubtful. âPromise.â
With a reluctant sigh, Jimin sets the bottle back down on the table, staring straight ahead as he admits, âItâs The Notebook.â
You press your lips together, trying desperately to keep your mouth in a straight line. At least you manage not to laugh. âIâ wow. Really?â
He nods like the reaction is expected, picking up his wine glass and settling back against the couch cushions. âI donât know, thereâs just something about it. Itâs comforting, to me.â
âYouâre such a romantic,â you murmur, gently nudging his thigh with your foot until you coax a smile out of him.
âYou know what?â Jiminâs voice is thoughtful now, more self-assured. âI am.â He takes a sip of his drink before he continues. âFor a long time I didnât want to be. Or thought that I couldnât be. I used to always try to be so. I donât know. Masculine, I guess. I think some of it had to do with denying my sexuality, but even once I got around to accepting that, there was still this part of me that would just never allow myself to be⊠soft.â
His gaze drops down to the wine in his glass, and you sit up, tucking your legs underneath you to scoot closer to him until youâre side by side. âI like you soft,â you say simply, and he looks over at you, still smiling.
âIf we watch The Notebook I will cry.â
âThatâs okay.â You lean into him to seek a kiss, made sweet from the wine. He hums a little against your lips before you pull back. âSame time next week?â
~*~
Just like that, you fall into a regular routine with Jimin: sharing his headphones on the morning train, sketching out the shape of his body in studio, then picking up takeout and wine to bring back to his place and split over a movie. As predicted, The Notebook does make him cry, and when you show him Kimi no Na wa the week after, hot tears stream down your face at the final scene, the way they always do.
He takes your head in his hands as the credits roll, his thumbs swiping at errant tears on your cheeks. You chase a sniffle with an embarrassed laugh. âOkay. Weâre even now.â
On your fourth movie night, partway into Moulin Rouge, something emboldens you when you see Jimin reach for his usual couch pillow. You lean over and gently pry it out of his grip, then shift to tuck yourself into his side and curl your legs up in his lap instead.
âBetter?â
âMm-hmmâ, he murmurs as he ducks down to nuzzle against your cheek. âYouâre warm.â
These nights end the same way each time: you ride the train home with a wine-soaked buzz in your brain and flushed, kiss-bitten lips, your fingertips brushing over your own mouth at the memory of his.
Once a week quickly turns into more. The two of you coordinate laundromat afternoons where you listen to music together as you wait for your clothes. You usually end up drawing to pass the time, and sometimes Jimin dozes off, head tipping over onto your shoulder so gently that you canât help but smile down at your sketchbook.
At his request, you help him dye his hair pink in his tiny apartment bathroom, and it somehow suits him just as well as honey blonde. You both get dizzy from laughter and cleaning product fumes as you desperately try to scrub the bubblegum stains out of the tile before Hoseok comes home.
When you finally introduce Jimin to your roommates, the four of you crammed all-too formally around the kitchen table over Yoongiâs cooking, the interaction feels like a cross between a job interview and a prom date meeting your parents. You choke on a piece of chicken that you nearly inhale when Namjoon offhandedly refers to Jimin as Subway Boy, and Yoongi smiles wide enough to show his gums as he gladly recounts your months-long crush in great detail while you bury your burning face in your arms.
But Jimin takes it in stride, laughs into your mouth as he kisses you over the sink while the two of you wash the dishes.
âSubway Boy, huh?â
âI will drown you,â you murmur as you pull away, brandishing the spray hose like a threat.
Itâs easy and slow. This blossoming something, a nameless but undeniable spark, the calm comfort of Jiminâs arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers intertwined with yours, his head dropped down on your shoulder.
~*~
You dig your phone out of your pocket as you shoulder open the door to the dance building, pulling up the text from Jimin to double-check his practice room number. A train delay made you slightly later than your agreed-upon time, but you know the takeout bag of Indian food dangling over your wrist will easily earn you his forgiveness.
It doesnât surprise you that heâs the only one left in the room when you find it, nor that heâs still reviewing the choreography with an expression of severe focus. You hover in the doorway, waiting for him to look up, but heâs entirely concentrated on his own reflection in the mirror.
His movements alternate between delicate and powerful, explosive and restrained, and you have to hold in an outright gasp when he launches his body into an aerial and lands it effortlessly. But then his feet falter in a split second of hesitation, and you can see his expression tighten, clearly frustrated.
âFuck,â he mutters to himself as he rubs a hand over his face, and he doesnât even try to keep going with the rest of the dance. You take the opportunity to step a few more paces into the room, and his eyes jump to you in the mirror.
âHi,â you say softly, suddenly a little nervous to be intruding on the moment. The corner of Jiminâs mouth turns up, but his eyes seem far away, and you can tell heâs still raging at himself in his mind.
âHi, sorry,â he sighs. âI justâ canât get this. Itâs like my body isnât doing what I tell it to.â
âYou need food.â You try to say it gently as you cross the room, holding up the smiley-face adorned plastic takeout bag. âAnd perhaps the enigmatic charm of Rachel McAdams.â
This seems to shake him out of his thoughts, at least a little. âI do like her.â He steps close enough to slip his arms around your waist and pull your body flush against his. Sweat glistens on his collarbone in the dim practice room lighting. âBut I like you more.â
You roll your eyes as you playfully smack a hand against his solid chest. âStop lying.â
ââM not,â he insists as he presses a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. âRachel McAdams has never once brought me masala dosa.â You giggle despite yourself, and when his lips drop down to your neck, itâs enough to make your breath hitch.
A spark ignites in your chest that doesnât go out, not on the subway ride back to your apartment, not through dinner and a movie, and certainly not once youâre most of the way through the second bottle of wine. As the credits start to roll, you waste no time, turning in Jiminâs lap so you can properly straddle him and take his face in your hands.
You trade decadent, easy kisses, and Jiminâs hands settle at the small of your back, his thumbs massaging gentle circles into your hips. A shiver rolls up your spine when he shifts a little and you realize you can feel a growing bulge through the fabric of his joggers, pressed firm against your thigh. He breathes a soft sound into your mouth as his tongue slides over yours, and youâre so overwhelmed, you barely register the sound of keys in the lock or the front door opening.
Itâs Jimin who reacts first, turning his head to break the kiss as his cheeks flood with color, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to see Yoongi storm past, heading for his room. He lifts a hand up to his face to shield you from view as he goes.
âDonât stop on my account!â Yoongiâs voice is dripping with derision. âBy all means, continue fucking on our shared furniture!â
âWeâre fully clothed, asshole!â you snap in response as Yoongi slams the bedroom door behind him, hard enough that it rattles in the frame.
When you look back down at Jimin, his face is twisted in an expression you take to be embarrassment. You drop your head down on his shoulder with a frustrated groan, the moment successfully killed.
âDo youâŠâ you pause, turning your head to the side but continuing to ask your question into the fabric of his shirt. âWe could go to my room, for more privacy, if you want?â
He hums his agreement, and when you peel yourself off the couch and head for your room, he follows. You spin back around to face him in the doorway, so fast he nearly knocks into you.
You brace your hands on the doorframe as you survey him. âWe really donât have to⊠do anything, if you donât want to. We can just talk.â
Jimin nods, and you step aside to let him enter first, pulling the door closed behind you as you follow. He takes a few tentative steps into the room, and you walk past him to drop down onto the floor next to your bed, then pat the carpet to encourage him to join. Thereâs a flash of something over his face, and then he sinks down beside you. Itâs only now that you realize how quiet heâs gotten.
âWhat is it?â you ask, suddenly a little nervous.
He stares down at the soles of his feet, pressed into each other, his knees tipped open like butterfly wings. âDoes it make you feel bad? That weâre notââ
âNo,â you answer immediately, and the honesty of it resonates in your chest.
âI know weâve been hanging out for a while,â he continues, voice low. âAnd I do want to, you know. Hook up.â
âJimin,â you lean forward to place both of your hands over one of his, settled atop his knee. âYou donât have to explain anything to me. When you want to, I want to. But I like everything weâve been doing, too. Itâs not like weâre not⊠intimate.â
His gaze flits up from the floor to meet yours. âI donât want you to think that I donât want you.â
You close your fingers around his hand, pulling it off his leg and up to your face so you can brush your lips over his palm.
âI donât think that at all,â you murmur against his skin. âPromise.â
Thereâs a hint of a smile in his eyes when you look back up at him. âOkay. Sorry, I know itâs stupid. Like why do I need reassurance from you when Iâm the one being difficult?â
You press your cheek into the warmth of his hand, toying lazily with the rings on his fingers. âWhy are you so convinced that youâre difficult?â
Jimin huffs a small sigh. âThis conversation has not gone this well in the past.â His eyes drop to the floor again, and after a momentâs pause, he keeps talking.
âMy ex and I struggled a lot withâŠâ he shakes his head, as if heâs trying not to say âeverythingâ. âSex. With me wanting it, with us having enough of it. I think it gave me a complex. I could be physically, you know, ready, but then as soon as sheâd touch me Iâd get in my head about everything and freak out and immediately want to stop.â He pauses, worrying at his bottom lip.
You pull his hand into your lap, your fingers delicately tracing over his in an attempt to provide some comfort. He shrugs when he starts to speak again. âAnd then, I donât know, I guess she was just trying to share her side, but... she would make me feel so bad about it sometimes. Because I was genuinely trying so hard but it was like I was never good enough.â Another pause, and this time he sniffs a little. When his eyes roll up to stare at the ceiling, you can see heâs holding back tears. âIt felt like she didnât want me anymore, not if there wasnât sex. So I left.â
âJimin,â you breathe, and he flashes you a small grimace, clearly embarrassed by his own dramatics. With a grunt of effort, he turns sideways and flops backwards onto the floor of your room, and you scoot closer to him, your hand still playing with his.
His gaze roams over the ceiling as he sighs. âI donât want you to think I was this perfect person and she was some awful bitch. She loved me a lot, and Iâm sure she was struggling with not feeling wanted either, in her own way.â
Your voice is soft when you interject. âTwo people can just be⊠incompatible. It doesnât mean either of them is a bad person, or that itâs anyoneâs fault. Sometimes things just donât work, no matter how hard you try.â
Jiminâs mouth pulls up on one side as he shakes his head, eyes squinting. âHow did you get to be so smart?â
You canât help but laugh a little, lacing your fingers together with his in your lap. âYears of making terrible decisions.â You give his hand a gentle squeeze before you ask a question. âDid you struggle with this before, or just with her?â
His mouth twists slightly, unsure. âYes and no? Both? My desire has always⊠fluctuated, I guess. Been a little shy.â A smile spreads over his face, and he hums a note. âLike, you know how people say love at first sight isnât a thing? That itâs just lust?â You nod, prompting him to continue. âI think, at least for me, itâs the opposite. I can fall for somebody, and fall hard, like that.â He snaps loudly with his free hand. âBut lust⊠I donât know, it takes longer. Itâs like a slow burn thing.â
You nod again, processing his words for a moment before you respond. âWell, Iâm in no rush.â
Jimin sits up, voice thoughtful as he untangles his hand from yours, and itâs clear heâs getting more comfortable opening up to you. âRight after the breakup, I did a lot of research. I found this term, demisexual, that felt pretty accurate.â He shrugs. âBut I donât know. I mostly just think that... I am who I am. And the people who get it will get it. Like you.â
Before you can even speak, he sweeps an arm under your calves to drag you into his lap in one swift move, and you squeak a little in surprise as your world tilts.
âDemisexual. I like it,â you giggle as he guides your legs to wrap around his middle. His hands slide up your thighs, grabbing at your hips to tug you closer so he can trail kisses along your neck.
âBiromantic demisexual, technically,â he murmurs, head tipping up to find your mouth again.
You drape your arms over his shoulders and hum against his lips as he kisses you. âIt suits you.â
Another soft noise escapes you when Jimin manages to maneuver to standing with you still in his arms. You tighten your grip on his shoulders and your legs around his waist, and his hands shift down to your ass to firmly hold you up. You squeeze your eyes shut automatically in fear of being dropped, then flutter them open again when you feel your back press into the soft cushion of your bedspread.
Jimin is hovering over you, forearms dropped down to the bed on either side of you. His eyes search yours for a moment, and then he leans in to kiss you again, so fiercely this time that it leaves you breathless. You canât help but whimper as his tongue slips into your mouth.
When he finally pulls away, he presses his forehead to your collarbone with a groan. âItâs late,â he murmurs, breath ghosting over your neck. âI should go.â
You nod responsibly, despite how desperately you want him to stay.
You walk him out, and his sweet parting kiss leaves your heart hammering in your chest, enough that you slump against the frame with a sigh once you shut the door, your knees suddenly weak.
Light on your feet, you follow the faint noise of the TV to find Yoongi in the living room with Planet Earth on at a barely audible volume. He glances at you, his mouth a flat line, then reaches for the remote to turn the sound up a few notches. You drop down on the couch next to him, and itâs silent for a moment, save for the calm narration and the crinkling plastic of him tearing open a bag of Turtle Chips.
âHowâd it go?â he finally asks, voice monotone.
âItâs good,â you answer softly. âWeâre good.â You fold your legs up under yourself and sneak a look at Yoongi out of the corner of your eye. Youâre still a little pissed, but you also want advice. Damn him for knowing everything.
âHave you heard the term âdemisexualâ before?â
Yoongi nods, still chewing as he replies. âYeah. Like asexual spectrum, right?â
You shrug. âI guess. Itâs new to me.â
He shoves a few more chips in his mouth before he continues. âIs that what your Subway Boy is?â
âI think so, yeah.â
Thereâs a long pause while you watch penguins march across the screen, and you think that might be the end of it. Then Yoongi clears his throat. âYou know, Iâm somewhere in there too. Not completely asexual, but definitely not⊠not.â
Your eyes widen. âReally?â
Yoongi snorts. âDonât act so shocked. These walls arenât that thick.â
âIs Joon?â
He smirks, like youâve just told a joke. âDecidedly not.â
âOh.â You blink, trying to process. âHow do you deal with it?â
Yoongi makes a face, like heâs never thought about it before. âWe just communicate, I guess. Be respectful even when we donât necessarily understand. And, like, Namjoon watches porn, and surprisingly reads quite a bit of eroticaââ
âOkay, okay,â you cut him off. âI donât need all the details.â
He huffs a dry laugh at your discomfort. âItâs not always easy, sometimes itâs frustrating for both of us. But we make it work. We love each other.â
You chew a little at the inside of your cheek, and then you canât hold in the question any longer. âIs it weird that the idea doesnât bother me? Jimin said it was a huge issue with his ex. Like, does that make me on the⊠spectrum?â
Yoongi shrugs. âI mean, you might be? But not necessarily? I donât know, sex matters different amounts to everyone. Some people donât mind not having it that often. You donât have to put a label on it unless you want to, you know?â
âYeah, makes sense.â You nod slowly as you digest the idea. âThanks, Yoongi. I appreciate the education.â
His only answer at first is a noncommittal hum, and then he points a finger at the few inches of wine in the bottle you left sitting on the coffee table. âGonna finish that?â
âItâs all yours,â you say. âConsider it atonement for going to first base on the couch.â
Yoongi grabs the bottle by the neck and immediately drains it. âApology accepted,â he grunts as he sets it back down. âAnd Iâm sorry I snapped at you.â He extends his bag of chips in your direction and you happily reach in for the biggest handful you can manage.
~*~
During your next movie night, Jimin canât keep his hands to himself.
They pet up your thighs, your legs draped over his, then slide up to your hips, fingertips tracing patterns over the waistband of your leggings and toying at the hem of your shirt.
His mouth has a similar problem: he leans in to press kisses along the line of your jaw, then down the slope of your neck, sucking delicately at the spot that makes your nipples tighten and sends a shiver through you.
âYouâre missing the movie,â you remark, raking a hand through his peachy-pink hair, shadowed at the roots where his natural color has started to grow in. Heâs typically good about keeping himself restrained until the credits roll, but youâre barely halfway through Pride & Prejudice, havenât even cracked a second bottle yet.
âFuck the movie,â he growls against your skin, and you bite back a whimper when his teeth scrape over your neck. You canât ignore the way your core is starting to ache from his insistent mouth.
His lips find yours again, and you giggle softly into him. âYouâre in a mood.â
âJust been thinking about you,â he murmurs between kisses. It surprises you a little when he suddenly pulls back so he can look you in the eyes. âShould weâ do you want to go to my room?â
The air hangs still and heavy between you, and you worry at your bottom lip for a moment. âAre you sure?â When he nods, dark brown eyes blinking up at you, your mouth turns up at the corner. âIâd rather we not traumatize any more roommates if we can help it.â
You lean over to pause the movie before sliding off his lap and getting to your feet, and then you reach your hands out for his and pull him up next to you. âCome on.â
Jiminâs bedroom is so perfectly him that it relaxes you, feather-soft comfort every time you step inside. His bed isnât made, because it never is, the thick white duvet pushed down on one side where he stumbled out from beneath it this morning. He keeps it dark, blackout curtains drawn to support his night owl lifestyle, and the room is bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights heâs strung up along the ceiling. A myriad of posters and art prints and polaroids are taped to the walls, some beautiful, others sentimentalâ he even managed to coax you into tearing a few of his favorites out of your sketchbook. You still donât think theyâre anything special, but nevertheless, it makes your heart squeeze in your chest to see them on display with everything else. Like they belong here in this room, like you do too.
The door clicks as it shuts behind him, and then his mouth is on yours again, kissing you dizzy while he backs you up until your knees hit the edge of the bed. He guides you to lay down, and his hand slips beneath you to drag you up the bed with him as he crawls over you.
His hands come up to tug at your shirt. âCan I take this off?â he breathes.
You nod, staring up at him and not quite able to believe any of this is real. âYou can do anything you want to me.â With a smile, he lifts the hem of your shirt, and you sit up a little so he can pull it the rest of the way off.
âGod, youâre beautiful,â Jimin murmurs against your skin as he kisses down your neck, over your collarbones, then down between the valley of your breasts. His hands slip down to palm at your tits, squeezing gently, and he mouths at the stiff peaks of your nipples over the thin fabric of your bralette. You untangle briefly, only for as long as it takes to get the lacy thing off of you entirely and tossed over the edge of the bed.
You shiver a little as the air hits your bare skin, and then the warmth of his body covers you again, and he ducks down to close his mouth over your nipple and suck. The plush softness of his lips and the firm suction combined are enough to make your eyes roll back, and your spine arches up beneath him when he drags his tongue in a circle over the sensitive bud.
âShit,â you groan. Your hands fist in the fabric of his shirt, and it feels like your only tether to reality.
Itâs easy to believe itâs the waiting, the anticipation of this moment, that makes every little touch light you up like a live wire now. But something tells you it will always feel like this.
While his lips shift to your other breast, one hand slides down to cup your clothed pussy, rubbing gentle friction into your center. You circle your hips to press yourself against the flat of his palm, sighing at the brush of indirect contact and the heat that thrums through you from the pressure on your clit.
You feel Jiminâs weight shift on the mattress as he kneels next to you, and his lips find yours again at the same time his hand slips into your leggings, two fingers tracing the seam of your panties to make you whine softly. If he couldnât tell before, he must be able to now: how wet you are, enough to drench the lacy fabric so it clings to your cunt, dripping arousal to show how badly you want him.
Heâs surprisingly forceful when he tugs the damp fabric to the side, but so gentle again as he slips one finger and then a second into your tight heat. Your mouth drops open as he curls them up to rub at your g-spot, stroking into you over and over while your cunt squeezes tight around him.
Your head drops back on the pillow and you groan. âOh, fuck, Jimin.â
You can hear how soaked your pussy is as he pumps into you, and the wet squelch of his fingers working inside you would make you shy if it didnât feel so overwhelmingly perfect. The pleasure edges your breathing with soft sounds, and Jimin swallows them when he kisses you again.
He shifts slightly for a better angle and then you feel the heel of his palm grind down against your clit. Itâs enough to make your hips buck up under him with every press of his hand, his insistent touch shooting sparks of arousal through you.
Itâs been so long since anyone has touched you, and youâve wanted this with him so badly for so long, but even still, it surprises you how quickly he can bring you to the edge.
âJimin,â you break the kiss to gasp against his mouth, unable to believe how close you already are. Close enough that all you can do is cling, to any part of him you can reach: his hair, his shoulders, the fabric of his shirt. âJimin, Jimin, fuck.â
âLook so fuckinâ good like this,â he groans, and he says the next part softer, like itâs just for him. âMy girl looks so pretty on my fingers.â
The pace of his movements doesnât falter, nor does the heavy weight of his palm as he ducks down to capture your nipple in his mouth again. Your pussy pulses around him, sucking him in to the last knuckle with each thrust of his hand, and your nails dig desperately into his forearm as you feel your orgasm crest.
His teeth graze lightly over the tight bud of your breast, and itâs enough. With a final whine, the arousal thatâs been coiling inside you snaps, and your back arches up off the bed as you come hard on his fingers.
Jiminâs fingers keep stroking you through it, the flat of his palm rubbing rough circles against your clit again and again and again and it feels like you might never stop coming. You moan as it rolls over you, wave after wave, until his touch is so overwhelming that you have to pull your trembling thighs together, and he finally relents.
Spent, your body sinks heavy into the bed, and you canât help the dazed giggle that flutters out as afterglow starts to bloom behind your ribs.
Jimin hovers over you, dropped down onto his forearms, full lips pressing indiscriminately to your flushed skin, all over. You snake a hand through his hair to pull his mouth up to yours, and he kisses you slow and deep.
When you break apart, you tip your forehead to his. âCan I touch you?â you ask, still a little breathless.
âPlease,â he murmurs, lips brushing against yours again before he pulls away with a small, embarrassed smile. âMy pants hurt.â
You sit up on your knees and he does too, and you bite down on your lip as you reach for the hem of his shirt. He helps you pull it over his head, and then there he is, beautiful as ever. Familiar, yet somehow all new.
Jimin shivers and whines when your hands run across the bare skin of his chest, teasing over his soft brown nipples before starting to trace a path down to his stomach. You lean in to kiss him, and he outright groans into your mouth when your fingertips tease along the band of his boxers that peeks out over his jeans. You gently bring your palms to his hips to guide him, and heâs pliant for you, shifting backwards at your suggestion until heâs seated, leaned back against the headboard.
Your hands shake slightly as you unbutton and push down his jeans, and you hear him exhale a ragged sigh of relief. Heâs so hard, you can understand why the tight denim must have been painful: his dick is still straining even now, a thick outline pressed into the fabric of his underwear, and thereâs a dark patch that clings to his tip where heâs started to leak precum.
You tug his boxers down with enough force that his length smacks heavy against his stomach, and he makes a strangled noise in response, eyes squeezing shut. His hips jerk violently beneath you, and your jaw goes slack as you watch his cock twitch, and keep twitching, until a steady pool of milky gloss has leaked out over his stomach.
âShit,â Jimin hisses as he comes practically untouched, and he gasps for air to try to speak. âFuck fuck fuckâ âmsorry, thought I couldââ
You can see him starting to spiral, can feel the panic starting to heat up inside his body, so you take his face in both of your hands. âJimin.â
âThis has never happened beforeâ fuck, I donâtâ this is soââ
âJimin.â When you say his name again, firmer this time, he goes quiet, his eyes still shut tight. âLook at me,â you murmur, and he does, lashes slow-blinking open. âItâs okay. Okay?â Your gaze searches his, trying to convince him. âI like everything about you. Everything you do. Youâre perfect.â
Clearly trying to steady his breathing, his chest shudders with effort, and you gently circle your thumb at the hinge of his jaw. He makes a soft noise as his eyelids drop shut again, his cheek pressing into your hand, letting you carry a little bit more of his weight.
Itâs quiet for a moment, and his voice is unsure when he speaks. âThereâs tissues⊠in theââ
âCan I take care of it?â you interrupt to ask, your voice low. His eyes blink open again to look at you, and a dark glint flickers there as the unsaid meaning of your question washes over him.
âY-yeah.â
You take your time moving down the bed to settle between Jiminâs thighs, and you stare up at him, waiting for any indication that he wants you to stop or doesnât feel comfortable. But he just swallows hard, his adamâs apple jerking in his throat, and nods.
Leaning down, you drag your tongue in steady, long strokes over the flat plane of his stomach to lick the mess up.
As you get the last of it, youâre surprised to feel his hand cup the back of your head. You donât resist when he pulls you up for a kiss, then licks into your mouth to taste himself, the salt and slick of his cum sliding between your tongues.
When you break apart to swallow, Jiminâs voice is a whisper. âThat okay?â
You nod, unable to bite back your smile. âYouâre⊠really fucking hot.â
He smirks as he finds your lips again. âSo are you.â The next kiss is sweeter, and then he pulls back. âIf you want, we can keepâ or I can go downâ I donât wantââ He canât finish any of his half-started thoughts, and you smile, lovingly running your palms over his thighs, back and forth.Â
You want him so badly, more than anything, but you try to breathe through it. You can see the wheels spinning in his head, that self-critical flash in his eyes, the same furrow in his brow that creases when he gets frustrated with himself.
âIâm not saying no because I donât want you,â you preface. âBut I just donât want you to feel stressed or get in your head about it. I want it to feel good, and Iâm in no rush. Next time, okay?âÂ
His lips are still a little pouted, but he nods, and you lean in to sling your arms around his neck. âCâmere.â
You tug him down to the mattress, and your half-naked bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, hands tracing gentle patterns over bare skin as you kiss.
When you eventually end up with your cheek pressed to his chest, you listen to the sound of his heartbeat settling, his breathing evening out. You speak softly in the quiet of his room. âMy roommateâs doing an exhibition on Friday. Will you come with me? Iâve been promised there will be free booze.â
Jimin tightens his grip on your waist, his voice slurring like heâs half-asleep. âMmm, my favorite person and my favorite thing.â Thereâs a pause, and he sighs. âThat sounded bad. Promise I'm not an alcoholic.â
âI know,â you laugh, dragging your lips over his collarbone, then grunting a little noise of frustration as reality starts to set in. âI have class early tomorrow. I should go before I fall asleep here.â
He whines his disapproval, but when you glance up you can see the fight going out of him, his eyelids starting to flutter closed. You lean up for one, two, three more kisses before you force yourself out of bed to find your bra and your shirt. âIâll see you Friday?â
âMmkay.â He inhales deep, like heâs coming up for air. âText me when you make it home safe?â
âI will,â you promise, and you do.
~*~
Namjoonâs exhibition is laughably fancy for what really just ends up being a room full of gay, overdressed art students. The ridiculous finger foods disappear in minutesâ all the broke grad school kids came hungryâ but you and Jimin gladly hover around the table of champagne flutes instead, giggles sparkling between you like the bubbles that fizz in your glasses.
Youâve been trying to drag him away to actually take in the art, but he keeps necking his drinks. âYouâre supposed to sip it, you demon!â you chide with a laugh as he does it again, picking up a fresh glass and throwing all of it back in one gulp.
He smirks slightly as he shakes his head. âItâs more fun this way. Try it.â
You roll your eyes, hiding the grin that threatens to stretch over your face in the rim of your drink before following suit. Heâs not wrong: a rush of warmth creeps up your neck as you swallow, the world softening around you, and itâs made sweeter by the kiss Jimin leans in for. When he pulls back you can see his face is flushing, too.
âCome on, Mr. Park,â you murmur, your free hand intertwining with his as you set the empty glass down and retrieve another. âTake me on a tour.â
Jimin grabs another flute too and then youâre off, and he actually manages to drink this one slowly as you weave through the gallery, the click of your footsteps underscoring the gentle classical music that floats through the speakers. You lean into Jimin in comfortable silence as you take in each art piece, sipping delicately at your champagne, occasionally hooking your chin over his shoulder just for the thrill of being close to him.
âThese are all beautiful,â he hums appreciatively as you stand in front of a wide, impressionist landscape, swirls of color that shift into shapes when you step far enough away, but dissolve into unidentifiable blobs of thick-textured paint up close. âNamjoon did a really good job curating.â
âMm-hmm,â you nod, but your eyes are on Jimin and everything else pales in comparison. Heâs dressed up for the occasion, tight black jeans and a white button-down with a leather jacket thrown on over top. His hair is styled, pretty pink strands pushed back off his forehead, and his asymmetrical silver earrings glimmer in the low lighting. The result is so stunning youâve had a hard time focusing on anything but him tonight.
A thought thatâs been running through your mind all evening resurfaces again as you swallow the last of your glass of champagne.
âThey should put you in a gallery.â You didnât necessarily plan to say the thought out loud, but say it you do. Jimin quirks an eyebrow and you decide to double down. âBut not here. Somewhere better.â
âThe Met?â he guesses, teasing.
âThe Louvre,â you counter, and he outright laughs, his head tipping back.
âThe Louvre?!â
âYou heard me,â you giggle, your body pressed against his side. âYouâre art.â
Releasing your hand, he wraps his free arm around you to pull you into his chest, the smile still lingering over his face. âAnd you,â he murmurs, âare drunk.â
âDoesnât mean I donât mean it.â Your voice is muffled slightly as you speak into his collarbone.
You tilt your head up for a kiss, and it seems to surprise both of you how quickly the atmosphere changes. It might be the more-than-several glasses of champagne to blame, or the fact that youâve found yourselves in a corner, hidden away from the rest of the exhibitionâs patrons, but the soft spark that ignites between you quickly grows into a licking flame at the touch of your lips. Itâs heat-blush passion as your mouths move against each other, and youâre trying to keep quiet despite the weight of it, heavy in your core, this shared, unspoken need.
âJimin,â you breathe into him, overwhelmed by all that he is.
He shifts, nosing at your jawline as he speaks into your ear. âDo you want to go somewhere?â
The suggestion makes you a little unsteady on your feet, your high heels threatening to topple over, and he catches you with a hand to your waist when you falter. âLike, somewhere here?â
âToo far to go all the way home,â he purrs, the hand on your body squeezing gently. âAnd you look too good.â
Your head swims as he kisses you again, and he pries the empty glass out of your hand, setting it down on the nearest table with his. A hand returns to the small of your back, then slips lower, cupping your ass through the fabric of your black dress. His mouth paints a smile over yours, and you grab his wrist. âFollow me.â
Stumbling your way through the gallery, trading laughs under your breath like confidants and kisses when no one is looking, you lead him back to the coat check closet at the front, thankfully left vacant by whichever freshman had been roped in to the thankless job. With a final glance over your shoulder to make sure youâre unseen, you push the door open and tug Jimin inside after you.
As soon as the coat check door closes again, he has you pressed against it, his tongue slipping hungrily into your mouth. His hands skirt up the curve of your hips as he slots a thigh between your legs, firmly pushing up the hem of your dress to grind into your clothed center.
You both freeze where you are at the sound of a moan, one that very distinctly does not come from either of you.
Jimin tries and fails to suppress a nervous laugh. Unable to make out anything in the dark, you reach your hand out, smacking aimlessly at the wall next to you until you find a lightswitch and flip it on.
âWhat the fuââ The man who made the noise in question flings a hand over his face at the sudden intrusive wash of fluorescents, but youâd know him from his voice alone. Kim Taehyung still has one hand gripped tight to the metal bar of a coat rack, back arched and legs spread for whoever his latest victim is, with his pants and boxers shoved down to his ankles.
Before your alcohol-soaked brain can put together a smug comment about how Taehyung needs to get his ass eaten at home like a normal human, Jiminâs voice surprises you.
âHobi?â
You clap a hand over your mouth as you realize the man on his knees, pulling his tongue off Taehyungâs rim with a look of utter confusion, is none other than Jung Hoseok. His eyes are wide as dinner plates as his head snaps up to take the two of you in.
âJimin?!â
âOh my god.â You start to laugh so hard your knees buckle, and Jimin has to wrap his arms around you to keep you upright. âHow the fuck did you two even meet?!â
âDo we really need to have this discussion now?!â Taehyung growls, and it only makes you laugh harder.
âCome on, come onââ Jimin is collapsing into giggles himself as he fumbles for the handle behind you. He simultaneously attempts to pull you off the door so he can swing it open. âLetâs leave them to it.â
You smack the lights off again as you make your escape, Jiminâs grip still hugging tight around your waist as you laugh until your lungs nearly give out. The lobby is thankfully empty, all the attendees pressed deeper into the gallery, so you loop your arms over his shoulders as you recover and pull his mouth back down to yours, unable to stop yourself.
âLet me take you home,â you manage to say in the space between kisses. Your tongue feels heavy when you speak; his is champagne-sweet. âJoon and Yoongi will be here for a while.â
Jiminâs agreement hums, buzzing on your lips. âWanna take the train?â
Youâre grateful the subway car you stumble into is empty, because the pull of Jiminâs mouth is too magnetic to be ignored. You donât think you could stop kissing him if you tried.
Itâs practically a race back to your apartment once you emerge from the station, partially to get out of the cold night air, though you hardly feel it with Jiminâs jacket slung over your shoulders and your body flushed hot from alcohol and desire. As you climb the four flights to your walk-up, both of you giggling and gripping tight to the banister, the spiral of the stairs sends your world spinning. You feel dizzy-drunk on wine and laughter and lust alike, and maybe something more. Something you donât have words for yet.
It takes you three tries to get your keys in the door, and when you finally manage to get it open, you kick your shoes off and make a beeline for your bedroom, dragging Jimin along after you, hand-in-hand. Thankfully he has the foresight to remember to shut the door behind you, because all you can think about is him: the rich musk of his cologne, the taste of his tongue, the warm blush of his skin under your palms.
The leather jacket hits the floor and you step over it, walking backwards as he licks into your open mouth, shameless.
You nearly fall over when you bump up against the bed and almost lose your balance, and then you reach for the buttons of his shirt at the same time he goes for your dress. The two of you laugh your frustrations against each other as your arms tangle and get in the way.
âYou first!â you insist, and he relents, lets you unbutton the starched white fabric of his button-down so he can shrug out of it. Your fingers move to undo his belt and then he takes over, impressively coordinated enough to be able to kiss you while kicking his jeans the rest of the way off, stripped down now to his black boxer-briefs. He pulls your dress up over your head, and then your barely-clothed bodies press together all the way down, the ache in your core now an undeniable throb.
Jimin takes your face in his hands and kisses you again, and you slip one hand between your hips and his to palm at him, earning an appreciative hiss. You rub at him over the front of his briefs, teasing, then dip your touch beneath his waistband.
His cock hangs heavy between his legs, but heâs not quite hard yet, maybe from the cold, so you take him in your hand and start to pump. For fear of too much dry friction you try to go slow, and he groans into your mouth as you twist your wrist a little to circle your thumb over his frenulum.
He buries his face in your neck, and you can feel the heat of his embarrassment bloom against your skin. âSorryâ gimme a second.â
Tilting your head, you press a kiss to his temple. âDonât apologize. Dâyou wanna try laying down?â
When he nods, you release your grip on him so he can sink down onto the bed, crawling backwards up to the pillows. Knelt down on the mattress, you settle in the space he makes for you, thighs spread and knees tipped open, and you push his briefs down enough to free all of him.
You hook your thumb and index finger under the head of his dick to pull it flush against his stomach, allowing you better access to drag your tongue in little kitten licks up his shaft. Your other hand moves to massage gently at his balls as you take his tip into your mouth and let it bulge against your cheek, let him slip against the soft wall there to make saliva pool on your tongue, sloppy on purpose.
Itâs still not working, not really, and when your gaze flits up to him again, Jiminâs face is pulled into a grimace. Heat rushes up your neck, and you pull your mouth off him and immediately right yourself. You shift backwards a little on your knees as your pulse starts to race. Does he not want this? Did you misread some sign, or push him too far?
Jimin must be able to read the look in your eyes, because he groans as he presses his face into his hands. âItâs not you. Think I drank too much, I donâtâ i-it feels good, Iâit justââ
Youâre not exactly sober yourself. The receding white noise of panic makes it hard to think, hard to know what to say. âI-itâs okay. Itâs okay.â
âI justââ he tries again. âI really want to do this, I donât know whyâ itâs fucking embarrassing.â The blankets muffle the sound as his palms smack flat against the bed on either side of him in clear frustration. You move out from between his legs, still trying to catch up, and a muscle in his jaw jumps as he pulls his boxer-briefs back over himself.
âJimin,â you murmur. The bed creaks when you shift to lay next to him, to tuck into his side, and you reach up to run a hand through his hair, a little sticky with the product holding it in place. An anxious, thrumming quiet settles over both of you as his eyes flutter closed.
The words finally come to you in the silence; you can only hope theyâll reach him. âI had so much fun with you tonight. That doesnât go away.â The crease between his brows softens a little, so you keep talking. âItâs not your only chance, okay? Iâm not leaving. Iâm staying right here.â Your free hand slips into his on the bed next to you. âAnd I want you with me.â
He sniffs a little, so quiet you nearly miss it, then turns in towards you. Your noses bump together and your mouth turns up at the corners as you continue. âItâs late, and I⊠canât promise there isnât more ass-eating waiting for you at home. Do you want to sleep here?â
Jiminâs eyes blink open, glassy, and then he nods.
âCome on,â you say softly, sitting up and tugging on your still-joined hands. âHow about we shower?â
In the bathroom, you run the water scalding hot, and when you both step in you nudge Jimin forward to stand under it first, then press against him from behind. Your hands wrap around his waist to slide over his stomach as you tilt up to reach his ear when you speak. âThis okay?â
He nods, hums a little, and you move your hands up over the whole of his body. Hard lines and soft curves, a work of art you know so well, you can see it when you close your eyes as you map his skin with your fingertips. You nuzzle into the place where his neck and shoulder meet, then press a kiss there. âIâm right here,â you say again, not even sure if he hears you.
But his head turns, and you feel one of his hands slide over yours on his chest. âWill you wash my hair?â he asks softly, and you tip forward to bring your mouth to his, convinced youâd do anything he asked of you.
Itâs intimate, the way you take your time running shampoo and then conditioner through his silky pink strands, dragging your nails over his scalp and applying gentle pressure that makes him sigh prettily in response. Jimin steps further under the showerhead both times to rinse the product out, and if a few tears slip down his cheeks, theyâre lost to the spray of the water where you canât tell the difference.
But he does manage the ghost of a smile when you reach to grab your washcloth and he gets there first. âYour turn.â
Once your body and then his are scrubbed and rinsed clean, you shut the water off and grab thick, fluffy towels that you dry off and wrap up in. In the dim light of your room, you pull on an oversized t-shirt and boyshorts, then dig out a pair of sweatpants from your dresser. Theyâre fairly baggy on you, but they fit Jimin perfectly, and the image of him in something of yours makes your heart squeeze tight in your chest.
You run two glasses under the kitchen tap that you set out to ward off any potential hangovers, and you even manage to find a spare toothbrush for him to use. When he emerges from the bathroom again, still absentmindedly toweling his damp hair, youâre sitting on the bed with your feet tucked under you.
âDo you want to watch something?â you offer gently.
He shakes his head as he stifles a yawn. ââMtired. Think I just wanna sleep.â
You pat the bedspread next to you, an invitation. âThen letâs sleep.â
Under the covers, you curl up together, soft and warm from the shower, scented lavender and mint from your body wash and toothpaste. Jiminâs legs tangle with yours, an arm wrapping over your waist, and you press your cheek against the hard plane of his chest with a small sigh.
You listen as his breathing slows, each inhale a little further apart from the last, to the point where you think heâs fallen asleep. You feel yourself start to follow after him, and the last thing you hear before youâre dragged all the way down is Jimin inhaling deep, then mumbling softly into your hair. âThank you. For everything.â
~*~
Light streams in between the cracks of the window blinds, painting warm shapes over your eyelids that gently wake you. You sigh and stretch as you slowly come all the way up from dreaming, your eyes still heavy-lidded. When you roll over with a soft grunt, you find Jimin fast asleep there, his face smushed into the pillow, one arm slung lazily over you.
The corner of your mouth pulls up, and you have to fight the urge to dot kisses all over his face, deciding to let him sleep instead. It takes some maneuvering, but you manage to roll out from under his arm without waking him and slip quietly out of bed, easing the bedroom door closed behind you.
Itâs early, and the apartment is still, washed in morning gleam and the gentle hum of New York City traffic on the streets outside.
You stumble into the kitchen with a stifled yawn, swinging open the fridge and leaning down to retrieve a pack of bacon and the half-empty carton of eggs. Humming quietly to yourself, you dig a pan out and set it on the stove to heat.
Arms slide around your waist, making you jump a little before you melt back as Jimin nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You can feel his body through your t-shirt, still warm from sleep and bedsheets he mustâve only just crawled out from under.
Not quite graceful, you turn in his arms and loop yours around his neck to seek a kiss. âGood morning,â you murmur, your voice hoarse on your first spoken words of the day. âHow are you feeling?â
Jiminâs mouth is still slurred from waking up when he answers. ââMgood. You look good.â His gaze roams down your body and back up, as if to take in your oversized shirt, your bare legs, your hair still messy from sleep. âSo cute like this.â
You scrunch your nose slightly as you smile up at him. âWant breakfast?â
A heat starts to pool between your legs as his hands slide further down your back. He pushes your shirt up so he can grip your ass, the thin fabric of your underwear the only thing separating his skin from yours.
âIn a bit.â
You canât help but squeak when, in one swift move, he bends his knees and lifts you off the ground. Impulsively, your legs spread to wrap over his hips, thighs squeezing tight to hold on, and your arms cling around his neck as laughter flutters in your chest. Before you can act on the urge to bury your face in his shoulder, his mouth finds yours again, and the way he kisses you, hungry and deep, makes nothing else in the world matter.
He carries you back to bed, nudging open the door he didnât quite close all the way with his shoulder, then using a foot to push it shut again. Your muscles unclench when he sits down with you in his lap, and you unwrap your legs from around him, your knees sinking soft into the bed.
You canât quite shake the thoughts of the night before. âJimin,â you start, âwe donât have to do this if you donâtââ
âWant to,â his voice is low, ragged edges from sleep. âDoing it âcause I want to. I want you. Do you want me?â
You nod, leaning back to look at him, your arms still twined over his neck. âMore than anything.â
Thereâs no rush this time as he shifts backwards up the bed and you crawl over him to settle into his lap again. No tension thatâs been building all night, no alcohol buzzing in your systems, no urgency. Just your bodies, half-dressed in sleep clothes, intertwining like they were made to fit together.
Your kisses are sweet and unhurried as Jiminâs hands slip beneath your oversized t-shirt, delicate fingers tracing up your waist. He cups your breasts in his palms, squeezing gently as he licks into your mouth. When he rolls a nipple between his fingers, your breath hitches, sparks of arousal shooting all the way down to your toes. A weight blossoms in your core as you reach for the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head, and you shiver a little in the morning air.
âBeautiful,â Jimin says quietly, reverently, and you take his face in your hands.
âYou are too,â you murmur, your eyes searching his. âSo beautiful.â Your hands slip down his body as he kisses you again, your fingertips outlining the contours of his chest, gently brushing over his nipples to make him groan into your mouth.
Jiminâs hands come to rest at the curve of your hips as your mouths move together, where he teases his touch under the band of your boyshorts. He pulls back just far enough to ask, âCan I take these off?â and you nod.
You shimmy the thin fabric down your thighs, dropping onto your ass with a laugh so he can tug them the rest of the way off, one ankle at a time. As you sit up on your knees again, his hands come to grip your thighs, and he shifts lower on the bed until heâs laying flat on his back next to you.
âWanna eat you out,â he murmurs softly.
âYeah?â You bite down on a small smile.
He hums. âCan Iâ will you please, uh⊠sit on my face?â
You canât help but giggle. No one has ever asked so politely. âYeah, okay.â
Itâs slow, languid, the way his full lips close delicately around your clit when you settle over him, how he alternates with lazy passes of his tongue, not unlike the way he kisses you. The pleasure pulls your spine arched and your head tips back, palms pressing flat to the bed beneath you.
âJimin,â you gasp, âbaby, feels so fucking good.â
His tongue is heavy as it drags down your folds, thick when he sinks it into your cunt to taste the slick arousal that pours out of you and drips down his chin. Your hips rock into his mouth, his nose inadvertently bumping against your clit as he licks you like he doesnât want to waste a drop. Your walls cling tight, crammed up full of him.
With a slurp and a gasp for breath, he withdraws, his tongue made hot from being buried inside of you, trailing wet warmth as he licks back up your pussy to lap at your clit again. Your arms threaten to give out when he sucks the sensitive bud into his mouth, lips pulsing an insistent rhythm that makes you moan and writhe above him.
âJimin, Jimin.â The pleasure is decadent, thick, wine and honey, made sweeter by the beautiful boy pressed between your thighs. Emotion bubbles up inside of you to twist with your pleasure, and you tighten a hand in his rose-blush hair as you moan again, nearly a sob this time, a dam breaking.
Jimin hums against you, fingertips digging into the soft skin of your thighs, like he can tell youâre at the edge without you having to say a word, and itâs enough to send you tumbling over it.
âOh fuck baby, yes, fuck.â Your toes curl tight over the bedsheets as your pussy flutters, throbs, gushes. Your vision whites out as you come hard enough to make your thighs shake, hard enough that your stomach muscles tremble with the effort of holding you up. Jiminâs mouth works you through it, tongue stroking flat and slow to coax pulse after pulse out of you, until everything melts into shaky aftershocks and your thighs clench around him, over-sensitive.
He pulls back when you start to squirm, lips smacking wetly on a final kiss to your pussy, and heat flushes your face at the sound of it. Your limbs feel heavy as lead as you slip off from on top of him and collapse down onto the mattress with a floaty sigh, your pulse still thudding brightly in your ears.
Youâre only distantly aware of the way the bed shifts as Jimin slides down next to you. You follow his touch on instinct, turning into him when he pulls you close and presses a kiss to your hairline. Heartbeat still slamming in your chest, mind hazy with morning orgasm glow, you hum contentedly as your eyes flutter open to find him palming at a thick bulge tenting hisâ well, your sweatpants.
âLooks like itâs cooperating today.â Jiminâs voice is equal parts relieved and embarrassed.
With a lazy smile, you hook a finger in his waistband, tugging playfully. âWhat do you want to do about it?â
He laughs hoarsely. âI would love to finally fuck you, if youâll have me.â
âI donât want anybody else.â The thought spills out before you can worry if itâs too soon to say it, but he just smiles and leans in to kiss you.
At Jiminâs guidance, you lay back against the pillows, a couple of which he grabs to slot under your hips. âThereâs condoms in the nightstand,â you say softly, and anticipation thrums in your chest, twinning with your still-racing pulse as you watch him retrieve one, then step out of his sweatpants to roll it on.
He climbs back onto the bed to hover over you, and your breaths come shallow into each otherâs mouths. You kiss quietly at the precipice of this moment, like youâre afraid it might not be real, a dream you could wake up from at any second.
âThank you.â Jiminâs low voice sends a ripple through you. âFor waiting for me.â
You press a hand to his cheek, your eyes trying to take all of him in at once. âIt wasnât waiting, Jimin. Really. Iâve loved every second with you. It doesnât matter what weâre doing.â
âIâm so glad I met you,â he murmurs.
The head of his cock teases your entrance, and you spread your thighs wider, pulling your legs up towards your chest. Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you canât bite back the moan that spills out of you as he sinks into your tight heat with a cock thick enough to split you open. âFuck, Jimin.â
Thereâs a pause when heâs pressed all the way in, his body covering yours, your hands clutching at the broad sweep of his back. He exhales a soft, disbelieving laugh as he looks down to see himself buried in you to the hilt. âGod, youâre so tight. Does it hurt?â
You shake your headâ youâre so soaked from his tongue and your arousal that it all just feels like melting, a pulsating heat between your legs. When he presses another kiss to your lips, he circles his hips, and you both groan at the feeling.
Jiminâs hands grip your thighs as he shifts and starts to move, starts fucking into you with long, slow strokes that make your pussy flutter, as if to urge him in deeper.
âItâs good?â he checks in again, voice tight, clearly holding himself back.
âSo good, baby,â you breathe, âplease fuck me.â A smirk flashes over his mouth at your manners, so polite when you ask to take it, and then he snaps his hips into you and you keen. âFuck, please, just like that.â
He does it again and again, hands pressing down on your thighs to keep you folded up under him as he fucks you. The angle is just right for the thick head of his cock to pound into your g-spot with every stroke, and your back arches as your walls grip tight to him.
Jimin echoes your gasps with his own, swearing under his breath as you squeeze around him. Heâs thrusting deep-deep now, and your hips shove up towards him for all of it, your thighs trembling as you take every inch. Youâre dripping down his length every time he pulls back, wet enough to soak the sheets beneath you.
The pleasure, the pressure as he fills you up is so overwhelming that your hands reach, clinging to anything they can find. A pillow, the bedsheets, the flexing muscles in his forearms. Your moans come unabashedly now, underscored by the slap of skin on skin, the thud of the bedframe knocking into the wall. âJimin, Jimin, baby.â
âYeah,â he pants, choked up like heâs close. âLove it when you say my name.â
You sit up a little, folded legs shifting to wrap over his hips, and your hands come to his face to pull his mouth down to yours. His movements stutter as you kiss him breathlessly, and the brush of your tongue over his must be just enough to make him come undone. With a grunt of effort, he thrusts hard into you one final time, and his shoulders shake as he fills up the condom.
You kiss him again and again, your lips pulled into a smile against his as you tangle a hand in his hair, made messy from sleep and sex. Jiminâs body weighs heavy on top of yours as he drops his head to your shoulder, breath coming in short heat-bursts over your collarbone.
âFuck. Been a minute.â He presses a kiss there, another to your neck, a third to your jaw. âDo you want to keep going?â
Your eyes widen at the question. âIâ can you?â
A soft flush paints color in his cheeks, and heâs suddenly a little shy. âYeah, I can. If you want. Or we can stop.â
You wrap your arms over his shoulders, your noses bumping. âI kinda felt like I was getting close again.â
He smiles. âThen let me finish what I started.â Thereâs a bit of shuffling as he moves to the edge of the bed to remove and tie up the used condom, then reaches for the box to retrieve another.
As he tears open the foil and rolls it on, you watch and consider all of him. This body that you know from every angle, that youâve studied like a textbook, that holds the boy who stepped onto the subway and changed your life and made it better. This body, made to be adored, to be respected and cherished and filled up with love. This body, chosen to be shared with you, to be held by you, to be near you.
Thatâs all you want, you realize as he rolls over, brown eyes blinking sweetly at you. This body, and all that it holds: the darkness and the light, the pain and the beauty, the soul that so perfectly fits with yours.
âTurn over for me?â he asks softly. âI want to spoon.â
This round is easier, slower, your bodies molding together, shaky from effort and sensitivity. You twist over your shoulder, tipping your head up for a kiss that turns into a shared gasp as he presses into you again. Your walls are swollen enough to be tender, and the stretch of him, the way he fills you up entirely, makes your eyes roll back.
As he starts to grind his hips into you, his hand snakes down between your thighs before you even have to ask. You hook a leg over his to allow him better access and gasp when his cock slides even deeper into you from the new angle.
âSo good,â you manage as two of his fingers work circles into your clit, matching the same slow-stroke pace. His tongue slips into your mouth, and with his cock rubbing insistently against your front wall, it doesnât take much. Pleasure overwhelms you in a hot rush as he so easily pulls you apart again.
âJimin.â Your voice is nearly a whisper, your walls starting to pulse. Your head tips back against his shoulder as he fucks and rubs you through it, his hums of encouragement buzzing through your body, your hips shuddering. âBaby, oh god.â
Jiminâs strokes start to falter, and then he goes still, your cunt aftershock-fluttering around him as he comes again, groaning your name.
A brush of daylight through the blinds makes your eyes heavy, and they drop closed as you lean into him and breathe through the comedown. You donât know how long you lay there like that until his kisses pull you back earthside, dotting over your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw. You tilt your head up and he finally finds your lips again.
With a deep grunt of post-sex effort, he rolls over, leaning off the edge of the bed to deal with the second condom. A shiver dots up your spine at the loss of his body next to yours, and you tuck into his side when he lays down again, throwing an arm over his chest to better nuzzle into the crook of his neck. The heat of his palm makes you sigh as his hand rubs gentle circles against your back.
Something cracks open inside of you, warm like his touch, like the sunlight bleeding through the window. You can feel the rapid pace of his heartbeat under your hand, and itâs everything, all of him, that makes the words rise up in your throat, undeniable.
âJimin,â you breathe, âI lââ
A loud bang on your bedroom door makes you flinch, and you roll over with a grimace as Yoongi shouts from the other side. âIf youâre finished, just so you know, you left a fucking pan on the stove. Couldâve burnt the house down while you were in there deflowering each other.â
Your jaw drops open and Jiminâs eyes go wide, and you collapse against each other in a silent rush of laughter. Youâre surprised when Yoongiâs voice comes back, a little softer this time. âAlso I brought some bagels back from work. If you want any, better hurry before Namjoonie eats them all.â
The charged moment has passed, and the words sink back down inside of you. Making a promise to tell him soon, you wrap yourself tighter around Jiminâs side with a smile. âWhat do you think?â
He nods thoughtfully. âIâll never say no to a bagel.â
âCome on then,â you murmur, tilting up for a final hit of affection. The kiss he leaves on your lips makes your heartbeat flutter, like the shudder of a subway car.
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Hi ! Congrats on reaching 4000 followers, I'm so proud of you and you totally deserve it ! â€ïž
Can I request a Crosshair x fem!reader one-shot with the prompt "every time i see you, i fall in love all over again" with Crosshair saying this to the reader after seeing her do something silly/cute (and they've been married for a few years already) ? I just feel like it'll be so cute đ„°
4000 Prompt List Celebration
Crosshair X Fem!Reader
word count: 1.2k
prompt
âą âEvery time I see you, I fall in love all over again.â
Warnings: Fluffy goodness, married couple, female reader, kisses, reader is a terrible cook, baking chaos, pet names, soft crosshair.
Authors note: so sorry for the wait my darling! @coraex , hopefully this is fluffy enough for you! Enjoy đ
Life on Pabu was a paradise. The weather was always idyllic, the beach pristine, and your husband, well, he was nothing short of perfect. Yet, amidst this perfection, there lingered one imperfection: your baking skills, or rather, lack thereof. However, fate bestowed upon you an opportunity to fix this flaw while your husband ventured off on a supply run for the people.
And so with meticulous precision, you measured each ingredient, ensuring nothing fell short of perfection. You had even ventured to local vendors and handpicked the finest ingredients to craft a savoury delicacy introduced to you by Phee so naturally, you had to make it. Or give it a go, at least.
As the oven worked its magic, you stepped onto the balcony to your home, allowing the warm breeze to tousle your hair and the sun to caress your skin. Your gaze wandered to the sky, where the familiar silhouette of the Havoc Marauder emerged.
Remaining on the balcony, you observed as the men and the lone girl disembarked the ship. Crosshair, as always, locked eyes with your shared home, a smirk adorning his features. With a wave and a beckoning gesture, you invited him to join you inside.
As soon as the door hisses open, you eagerly dash across the threshold and leap into his arms. The man staggers momentarily before finding his footing, wrapping one of his long arms around you. "Missed me, pretty lady?"
"As always," you grin, leaning back to plant a kiss on his lips. "Even if it has only been a few hours."
"At least I got a hug this time," he chuckles, placing your feet back on the ground and bestowing a sweet kiss on your forehead.
Stepping back, you let Crosshair settle his belongings and smile fondly at him. "Well, last time, you went 'what? No hug for me?'" You recall, earning a playful eye roll as he places his helmet on a table next to a framed holophoto of your wedding day. Every time you look at it, nothing but fond and loving memories fill your mind.
"Very well," he declares, launching himself onto the couch, kicking his feet up on an ottoman. He pats the spot beside him, and you gratefully accept, snuggling into his side. "So, what are you trying to bake this time, then?"
"How did you know I was baking something?" you inquire, a hint of surprise in your voice, as you glance towards the kitchen where you were certain you had hidden any sign of evidence of you baking.
Then, he leans forward and as you think heâs about to steal a kiss, a mischievous glint dances in his eyes. His thumb playfully swipes across your cheek and nose, leaving behind traces of flour and sugar on his finger that he holds up that makes your face flush with embarrassment. "Ah," you chuckle, realising the source of the sensation.
He chuckles too, but his amusement is tinged with concern as he sniffs the air with a subtle frown. "How long have you been cooking for?"
Glancing at the chronometer on the wall, then back at him, you reply, "About two hours now. Should be ready in the next hour or so." Your grin conveys eagerness, but his expression remains neutral, a hint of skepticism lurking in his eyes.
âBabe, I think itâs already done.â
Again, you blink at him, momentarily taken aback. "Huh?"
âI smell burning.â
Just as he finishes his sentence, the shrill sound of the smoke alarm fills the air, and you wince at the piercing noise. Cursing above the noise, you rush towards the kitchen, your heart pounding with a mix of frustration and urgency.
âGloves! GLOVES!â Crosshair's urgent voice rings out, but you're focused on the task at hand and it falls on deaf ears. Ignoring his plea, you yank open the oven door, confronting the billowing clouds of black smoke that engulf the kitchen. Fetching your hand inside the burning oven, you grab a hold of the tray of the baked goods, yanking it out with a small yelp.
Crosshair springs into action, swift and decisive. In a matter of seconds, he's by your side, checking on you with a mixture of concern and determination etched on his features. But after you insist youâre fine, he shifts his focus to the task at hand, pushing open the window to let the smoke out and silencing the alarm with a practiced hand.
âCome here, run your hand under the tap quickly,â he instructs, his voice gentle yet firm as he guides you towards the sink. Switching the water on, he ensures the temperature is just right before gently urging your hand underneath the cool stream.
âCrosshair, Iâm fine. Honestly,â you assure him which was not even a lie because you were. It was pretty much a miracle you somehow didnât burn yourself but as for the savoury treats⊠burnt to a crisp.
Crosshair moves away from you and inspects the smoking tray, blinking at the almost incinerated food. âWell, maybe they taste better than they look.â
âOh, stow it,â you retort at his sarcastic comment, though you know he means it playfully. Disappointment paints your features as you glance at the charred remnants of your baking attempt. âWhy canât I cook anything?!â
âYou can. Just, badly.â
âIf youâre trying to hurt my feelings, youâre succeeding,â you pout, flinging water droplets from your hand at him before switching the tap off and folding your arms over your chest in annoyance.
Crosshair comes back your way and drapes an arm over your shoulder, using his hand to tilt your chin up to look at him. âDonât worry about it. You can try again?â
âWhatâs the point? Iâll probably burn our home down.â
âThatâs true.â
You playfully slap his hand away and begin to tidy up your mess, Crosshair helping you along the way by washing up the tray before you move back to the sofa and faceplant onto it with a heavy sigh. The soft cushions provide some comfort as you let out a frustrated groan.
You hear the running water switch off, a small clang of him putting the washing away, and then faint steps towards you.
âI donât know how you do it,â he starts, quickly earning a loud and unwilling-to-listen whine before you ask what about.
âThat every time I see you, I fall in love all over again.â
You roll onto your back and stare up at him with narrowed eyes. âWhy are you being soft?â
He laughs, warm and soft before he scoots you into his lap, taking a seat and peppering kisses over your cheek. âYou know I donât like it when you call me that.â
âI donât care,â you giggle as you let him gush over you, âyou are.â You grin at him with bright eyes. âBut why did you say that?â
âItâs true,â he shrugs casually. âYou may try and burn our home down all the time, but I love you all the same for it.â
You playfully squint at his jokey insult, but instead of trying to be smart and think of a retort, you kiss your husband and tell him exactly how you feel too, cherishing these moments of love and laughter.
âLetâs go out for dinner. Itâs on me.â Now thatâs an opportunity you wonât pass up on.
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interlude zero | dear carmy
⹠previous chapter | next chapter ⣠| masterlist
pairing: carmen berzatto x self-sabotage | carmen berzatto x fem!reader
summary: a look into carmy's life and thought process in the aftermath of the berzatto family christmas.
warnings: angst | fluff | self-sabotage | pining | toxic workplace | language | smoking | low self-esteem | self-doubt
wc: 4.6k
thank you for all the love and support, please enjoy this first special chapter dedicated to all of you! đ
January 2019
Carmy sat on the fire escape of his New York apartment, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, the sun slowly setting behind all the high-rise buildings. It wasnât the best view but it allowed him to take advantage of the somewhat fresh air New York had to offer. He had been out there for quite a bit now on his second cigarette in 15 minutes.
His thoughts were racing as they usually did, never being spared a quiet moment from his thoughts. His head raced with ideas heâd thought about trying in the kitchen, thoughts about a new tattoo he was hoping to get, wondering when Mikey would finally see how far heâd come. His mind pushed forth anything and everything he could think of, all so the slideshow in his head kept what happened a month ago between the two of you in the dark recesses of his mind.
Carmy told himself that if he didnât think about the things he wasnât ready to resolve, then there was no way that they could hurt him, no way that they could force their way out and get him to admit that they indeed were a part of his reality. Accountability wasnât Carmyâs strong suit, and over the years when it came to the two of you, he felt it best to sweep things under the rug, no point in prodding at old wounds if the friendship between the two of you was well past saving.
He sat there as the sky transitioned colors; blue bleeding into orange, a sunset he knew you wouldâve appreciated. Cigarette already burned out, the poison coating his lungs helping to warm his body from the chill that was settling in the air. There was a knock on his apartment door, the unit was so small that even sitting on the fire escape made him feel like he was right next to the door. He ignored it, no one ever stopped by his place, itâs not like he was inviting coworkers back to his place or anything, if it was important theyâd come back tomorrow. The knock sounded again, and again Carmy ignored it, his knee bouncing up and down as he hoped whatever nuisance at his door took the hint to leave.
Carmen Berzatto was never lucky enough to get what he wanted. An incessant knocking began on the front door with no indication that the strings of knocks would be stopping soon. Hands running down his face Carmy aggressively stood up from his chair, if he wanted to be bothered at home he wouldâve put a fucking welcome mat outside of his door. He reached the door twisting the knob and yanking it open, he frowned at the sight of legs, face covered by the package in their hands.
âPackage here for a uh, Carmen Burzetto.â The mispronunciation of his last name caused Carmy to cringe. He nodded at the delivery person wanting to end this interaction as quickly as possible, he was presented with a package slip and pen quickly signing his name without paying attention. The package was handed off to Camry, tucking it under his arm he closed the door not giving the delivery person another second.
Walking to his kitchen Carmy set the box on his countertop confused at what it could be. He never ordered shit so he knew this wasnât of his own volition, he found the packing sticker, the return address of his family home jumping out at him. He grabbed his only knife, cutting the box open. He could only assume that the package was from his mom, and what she felt the need to send him he had no clue.
Setting the knife to the side he quickly removed the medium-sized box covered in bubble wrap. Tearing at the protective wrap, he stopped as he realized exactly what he was looking at. Sitting on his counter staring back at him was a matte black box with a matching bow and envelope addressed to him; a box he had purposely left behind a month ago, the same night he had left you.
He checked the bottom of the now empty box the gift arrived in, hoping to find some sort of return slip, only to come up short. His gaze fell back on the present, hands moving up to tug at his hair. He couldnât open it, didnât think he deserved to. Not after having left you to wake up in a lonely bed the day after Christmas, no apology or excuse just you and a confused Richie wondering how he had suddenly been roped into dropping you off at the airport. Not with all the disappointment he had caused, he wasnât worthy of the kindness you had shown him time and time again.
Carmy paced around his tiny kitchen, he could always ask Sugar or Mikey for your address. Returning the present he wouldnât be able to live with himself if he accepted. You were a great gift giver, so great in fact he had your gifts in a designated box that traveled with him everywhere he went the last couple of years; even Copenhagen a box of memories taking up space in the small boat house. Memories from the person who had held his heart long before he realized it for himself.
He stopped in front of the box, hands resting on his hips debating the pros and cons of opening the gift. In a way he owed it to you to open the box, sending it back wouldâve just made him an even bigger asshole than he probably already was in your book. His hands reached out pausing on the edge of the countertop to calm the shaking. When he deemed himself stable enough he reached up to untie the velvet bow, the softness that caressed his fingers reminding him of what it had felt like to hold your neck in his hand as he thumbed the ink stain behind your ear.
How his breath hitched as you shamelessly told him the small letter permanently inked into your skin could have represented his last name if he wanted it to. Losing himself to memories, he wondered what would have ensued had he taken up your offer to let the brand on your skin represent a part of him. He had wanted to give in, wanted to paint your skin with more than a letter that he knew, in reality, had nothing to do with him. It confused him all the same though, hearing those words leave your lips felt like a cruel joke to him. He was just a grown-up version of the little boy that had been your best friend, was sure you were just in need of a distraction, and Carmy had laid the perfect opportunity in your lap by inviting you to spend the night with him.
He broke from his reverie dropping the loosened bow from his grasp, eyes landing on your pretty cursive that painted the black envelope with his name. His fingers traced over the letters, the closest thing he had to touching you at this moment. Holding the envelope in his hand Carmyâs gaze burned into it before setting it off to the side. He was already opening your present, he didnât think he had the guts to find out what was hidden inside the ominous black envelope.
Carmy took one more deep breath before removing the top of the box from its joined position with the bottom part. Carefully unfolding the tissue paper to not rip it, he uncovered two decent-sized velvet bags with the logo reading âMade inâ in gold foil. Carmy carefully removed the two bags from the box, pushing the empty box off the countertop to make room. He opened the first bag confused at what was in his hands for a moment before something clicked and he sat the block upright. Grabbing the second bag he took out the heavy roll laying it down before quickly unrolling it, the unblemished metal reflecting the kitchen light onto his face.
He sat his hands on the counter, head dropping between his shoulders as he let out a deep sigh. He knew this had to have cost you a pretty penny, he could tell just by looking at the knife set. Unable to help himself he pulled the Chef Knife out, testing the weight of it in his hands, he carefully looked over the tool, appreciating the wood-like finish of the handle. Before he could return the knife to its rightful place his eyes caught sight of an engraving on the handle. Holding the knife up to his eyes he felt his breath hitch as he took in the letters, fingers ghosting of the initials âC.B.â that had been a personal touch. One by one he removed the other three knives only to find that they had all indeed been engraved with his initials.
Carmy threw his head back, eyes staring at the ceiling as a sorrowful laugh escaped his lips. He felt a tightness in his chest as he tried to come to terms with what you had gifted him. The thoughtfulness and the care that you put into this gift proved to him that you had always been a better friend than he had ever been to you. The fact that you had gone out of your way to get his initials engraved into the set, something he knew definitely cost extra, squeezed at his chest. He wasnât good at this shit and he hated it because you were, it came easy to you, the caring, the friendship, everything.
Carmy came back to earth choosing a spot to showcase his new knife set and block. Just because he didnât have any guests over didnât mean Carmy himself didnât want to be able to marvel at the gift every time he came home. Unconsciously positioning them so they were the first thing his eyes landed on as soon as he stepped through the door. He stood there for some time just admiring the set, envelope lying forgotten on the countertop as he mentally berated himself for all the mistakes he made with you.
April 2019
Carmy had just returned home after a particularly rough shift. His chef coat was stained with whatever concoction his co-worker had spilt on him. Carmy felt like everything that could go wrong in the kitchen during his shift, did. He felt like he was off his game, constantly striving to be the best in the kitchen, working his ass off to show how much he belonged, how much he deserved to be there. The praise he desired was nowhere to be found instead being told he was âa worthless fucking idiot not even McDonaldâs would hire.â
Not even the knife set he had set up three months ago could raise his spirits. He had half a mind to knock the fucking thing over, the metal mocking him the longer he stared in its direction. He threw his soiled chef coat on the cheap dining table chair he had acquired making his way to the fire escape, a much-needed smoke on his mind.
Sometimes he wondered what would happen if he just decided to give it all up one day. He never would, he knew that, but sometimes he just needed a few âwhat ifsâ to help calm him down. He would regret it, thatâs what would happen and heâd probably be more miserable without it in his life than he was with it. He sat on the fire escape for a while burning through three cigarettes in all with the stress he was feeling.
Moving back into the apartment he made his way to the kitchenette hoping to make himself a quick PB&J and call it a night. He removed a cup from his dish drain running it under the faucet to refresh himself. He drank a quarter of the cup before moving to set it down on the countertop, hand missing by an inch as he practically slammed the glass into the countertop, the cup breaking on impact as his mail fell victim to the flood.
Carmy let out a sharp curse, the feeling of being cut racing through his palm as he dropped the remaining glass from his grasp. For a moment he just watched as his mail soaked up the water, before grabbing the closest dish towel and doing his best to clean up the mess. He dried the mail as best he could snatching it up to sit atop the little dining table where the air from the open window could hit it. Carmy glanced down at his palm, the cut was not deep enough to warrant any stitches, he used the damp dish towel as a makeshift bandage and wrapped his hand.
A black water-stained envelope caught his eye stopping him momentarily before he rushed to grab it, the lettering on the front already smeared and unreadable, âFuck!â The loud curse reverberated off of his apartment walls as he ran to quickly flick on his stovetop, hoping the heat would help to dry out the contents. He stood over the stove envelope dangling over the burner careful to not let it get close enough to catch fire. If there was ever a day to finally face what he had been avoiding and open this damn envelope, today seemed like as good a day as any.
Zoning out Carmy stood there racking his brain for what the envelope could contain. A traditional Christmas card would have been the easiest thing to find in there, but he knew you didnât do easy. Thatâs why he allowed the envelope to age on his countertop, whatever you had sealed into the sleek black pocket would be a tough pill for him to swallow.
The singe of his thumb brought him back to reality, the heat of the burner licking at his fingers burning his forefinger and thumb as he unconsciously dropped the envelope right onto the stovetop. âShit! Fuck me!â The expletives left his lips as he forcefully plucked the envelope from its position and played hot potato with it before he was able to get it to the countertop. He brought his fingers to his lips aiming to soothe the throbbing in them.
Carmy stood with his hands on his hips, angry breaths leaving his nostrils as he tried to keep the slim thread of his calmness in check. Snatching the singed envelope from the countertop he made sure he still had a pack of cigarettes in his jean pocket before making his way out to his normal spot on the fire escape. The cheap lawn chair he had sat out there was a welcoming sight.
Plopping down in the chair Carmy lit a much-needed cigarette before stilling his shaking hands and delicately opening the envelope, not wanting to ruin something that had once been in your hands. He was right, things with you were never easy, because what he was hoping to be some cheesy Christmas card, was instead a folded letter with your pretty cursive dancing across the pages.
Head tilting towards the sky as Carmy tried to find strength in the cosmos, the weight of the letter settled into his lap where he had placed it to gain his bearings before diving straight in. Focusing back on the pages he carefully straightened them out; slight water damage had seeped through them but not enough to ruin them. Taking one last deep breath Carmy began reading the letter.
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đđđ đđđđ đđ đđđđđđ đȘđđđđ, đ°âđđ đđđđđđ đđđđđđ đđđđ đđđđ.
đđđđđ đšđđđđđ,
Carmy let out a slight chuckle about your lack of knowledge in the culinary arts. He traced your closing signature fingers taking extra care when tracing over the longtime nickname in your sign-off. He allowed himself to let what heâd just read sink in, he was going to have to look for that article you mentioned. The tightness in his chest was ever present as he devoured every word you had written for him. He shouldâve opened the letter sooner, he knew that now. He distracted himself from your words by digging through the discarded envelope fingers hoping to latch onto the pictures you mentioned.
He brought forth two aged Polaroid pictures. The first is a group photo of the five of you - Mikey, Richie, Sugar, You, and Carmy - all squished together in the photo. The date on Mikeyâs hat reminded him exactly what the occasion was. The five of you were all huddled around The Beefâs booth, Mikey and Richie on the far left side, arms thrown over the other, big smiles directed at the camera. Sugar stood smiling in the middle hands placed on the cheap fold-out table in front of them. Carmyâs eyes drifted to the last two figures in the photo, the two of you taking up the right portion of the Polaroid.
There Carmy was sitting at the table relegated to manning the cash box because Mikey wouldnât let him help with cooking. You were behind him, bending over to be at the same level as him, and your head sat comfortably next to his. Your arms were thrown around his shoulders, hanging off of him like a koala, your bright smile mesmerizing as it was directed at the camera. While you were looking at the camera, he was looking at you, head slightly turned in your direction, a small shy smile directed your way as he focused on you.
Carmyâs thumb came up to gently caress the 15-year-old versions of the two of you trapped in the Polaroid, the same small smile gracing his features as he remembered that day. He sat the picture in his lap before moving on to the next.
The second Polaroid was just the two of you. Dressed in your finest garments for senior prom, standing on the porch of the Berzatto home. He remembered that night, the night he took Claire to the prom and realized that no girl he took an interest in would compare to the way he felt for you. He focused on the old photo in his hand trying to ignore the lavish corsage your date had bought you.
The more he looked down at the photo, the more he decided it was his favorite of the two of you together. You and Carmy stood side by side, neither of you paying any attention to the camera, your body turned slightly into his as your right hand rested right where his heart was. His arm settled around your waist, both of you staring at each other, the picture capturing the moment Carmy knew he wanted more than a friendship with you. Right before the picture had been taken Carmy had whispered about how beautiful he thought you looked, he remembered the look in your eyes as his compliment caught you off guard, the way your eyes quickly flashed to his lips as he gave you his small shy smile.
Carmy patted his pockets before pulling out his wallet and slipping the photo into the clear partition. He collected the other photo and the letter you had sent him entering through the fire escape and heading to his kitchen. He found the random magnet that had been on his fridge since moving in and placed the group photo on his freezer.
He quickly maneuvered his way out of the kitchen, making his way to the closest in his bedroom. He rummaged through the mess looking for your designated box in his closet. Eyes finding the wrapped present he had meant to send you three months ago, even though it was April he was hoping you wouldnât be too miffed about the lateness of your gift. He had tried to convince Mikey to send it for him but was called a âfucking idiotâ before Mikey promptly hung up on him, and when he tried to ask Sugar for your address she told Carmy to ask you himself.
On top of not bringing you a present when he returned home for Christmas, it had taken a month to find a reputable seller for the specific vintage camera he was looking for. And another month on top of that to bargain with them and actually buy the camera, so Carmy thought he was doing a pretty good job for himself.
Making his way back into the kitchen Carmy sat the present on the countertop. He paced around the enclosed space, hyping himself up to make the call and ask for your address, and if he was lucky, maybe even invite you out to New York if you had any vacation days. He couldnât help himself, although your letter to him was less than heart-warming, it ignited hope in him regarding you that he hadnât felt in a long time.
Leaning against the countertop, Carmy slipped his phone from his pocket. Opening up his contact list he scrolled down to your name, he clicked on it momentarily checking the time. It was 10 pm where you were, he knew you wouldnât have been asleep yet. Carmy took one last deep breath before pressing the call button.
Camry listened to the phone ring as he placed it against his ear, foot tapping rhythmically against the linoleum. Eyes focused on your present sitting in his kitchen.
The tightness in Carmyâs chest intensified tenfold as he listened to the automated voice streaming through his ear.
âWeâre sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again.â
a/n: tag yourself, iâm carmy x self-sabotage : ) i almost changed carmyâs gift because i forgot his knife (the one he gave tina) already has his initials, but then i realized baby wouldnât even know that and since carmy seems like the type to not spoil himself baby will lol. i promise carmy wonât be an asshole forever heâs just stupid atm. also i donât know shit about culinary tools and i got caught up looking at pretty knives so i just picked my favorite đ
let me know if there are any questions regarding the timeline and iâll make a post about it or something!!
taglist: @hawkins-2000 @elliesbabygirl @allbark-no-bite @anakinswh0re3005 @rexorangecouny @thecraziestcrayon @fruitcupsworld @nishinoyahhh @lilylovelyxo @ridingthehotmessexpress @noas-ark @jadeittic @hellokittyever @luvr-bunnyy @sxgees @fandomhopped @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @kravitzwhore @chanluuvr @readingwiththereids @chims-kookies @ladygrey03 @ferida-kahlo @wanderlustnightwanderer @how2besalty @armydrcamers @jointherebellion215 @jackierose902109 @blkbxrbie-esther @ajordan2020 @head-slut-in-charge @magnet-girl @thebookwormlife @yeehawbitchs @khena @kailyn-05 @ovaqma @fire-treasure-iii @frequentnosebleeder @gcidvrsh @awatt31 @cauliflowerpatch
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Full Moon Child⟠through the 12 signsđ€
â In celebration of the ethereal Blue Full Moon in Pisces, it's undeniable that its extremely important to acknowledge the significance of one's moon phase. Born under the Full Moon? It's as if you wear the cloak of both the sun's radiant gaze and the opposing moon's sultry embrace, weaving a tapestry of conscious will and subconscious yearnings.
Every zodiac, with its unique essence, drapes the Full Moon with a distinct allure. Imagine, a Pisces Full Moon bestowing someone with a depth of intuition, as if they're dancing on the blurred line between dreams and reality, painting their world with artistic strokes and spiritual hues. Meanwhile, the Aries Full Moon might breathe fire into the soul, igniting passion, spontaneity, and a path-blazing spirit. To recognize and immerse in the rhythm of one's Full Moon sign is like unraveling a song of strengths, challenges, and harmonies within.
With that being said, wait no further, lets dive right inđ!
đ Full Moon in Aries Moon: Fiery and spontaneous but always looking for that equal. Quick to act but deeply feels the need for balance. Seems aggressive, but it's nothing but passion burning from within their heart. Wants to lead, but deeply needs that one partner-in-crime by their side. Brave and unstoppable. Prefers deep, meaningful connections over surface-level relationships. Would fight for whatâs right, even if it means standing alone. A warrior with a sensitive core.
đ Full Moon in Taurus Moon: Grounded, but with a mysterious edge. A solid rock but don't mistake them for being mundane. Love luxury, but transformation excites them even more. These people see calm yet only they feel the storm from within. They're all about roots, but sometimes they crave to fly. Protective of their own, cross them, and watch the calm turn tempestuous. Charitable and loving, but not one to forget betrayal.
đ Full Moon in Gemini Moon: Forever curious, with depths people often overlook. Quick wit hidden behind a facade of playful banter. Always learning, always restless. Lover of tales, yet constantly seeking truth. Smart in crowded rooms but feels everything in solitude. Can talk for hours, yet holds back the most vital stories. An open book with some pages glued together.
đ Full Moon in Cancer Moon: Deeply emotional but with towering ambitions. Home is where the heart is, but success calls out loudly. Nurturer, yet constantly seeking validation in professional realms. Strongly rooted in tradition, but innovation is genuinely where they shine. Trust them to hold your secrets, but be aware that they've got vaults of their own. Feels everything intensely, yet presents a composed front. A true master of their emotions.
đ Full Moon in Leo Moon: Born for the spotlight, yet truly values the collective. Radiates warmth, but not without moments of icy detachment when they simply just need to be by themself to just feel. People think they know them, but there's so much beneath the surface. A cheerleader for others but their own harshest critic. Life of the party or the silent observer, thereâs no in-between to be honest. Embraces individuality but deeply feels the world's pulse, every tingling seconds of it.
đ Full Moon in Virgo Moon: Analytical, with a dash of whimsy. Details matter, but they get lost in dreams. They'll correct your mistakes but with a twinkle in their eye. Grounded but constantly touched by the ethereal. In their eyes, theres beauty hidden in every day life. Theyâll say it like it is, but only because they care deeply. Organization is their game, but occasionally they let chaos reign.
đ Full Moon in Libra Moon: All about balance, but swings between extremes. Charmer but secretly questions every relationship's depth. Seems calm, but the scales constantly tip inside. They could be the voice of reason or the spark of chaos. Seeks harmony but won't shy away from a duel. Gracious host but fiercely protective of their space.
đ Full Moon in Scorpio Moon: Magnetic, with an undercurrent of intensity. Deep waters run still, but currents are tumultuous beneath. Attracts with a gaze, but holds back many secrets. Draws you in, but sets boundaries like no other. Depth intrigues them, superficiality repels. Theyâre the storm you never saw coming.
đ Full Moon in Sagittarius Moon: Wanderer with roots. They'll tell tales of far-off lands but crave the familiar. Philosophical yet grounded in reality. Yearns for adventure, but treasures moments of stillness. They're the storyteller you can't stop listening to. Fiery passion with an old soul's wisdom.
đ Full Moon in Capricorn: Ambitious with a touch of nostalgia. Climbs mountains but cherishes the base camp. Seeks recognition but values genuine connections more. Strong and silent, but an emotional depth many overlook. They'll lead the way, but not without their tribe. The unsung hero with a heart of gold.
đ Full Moon in Aquarius Moon: Innovative, with a touch of tradition. Forward-thinking but respects the old ways. Charms effortlessly, but holds the inner circle tight. Believes in the future but honors the past. They're the genius with quirks. Dreamer with feet firmly on the ground in the most fascinating way possible.
đ Full Moon in Pisces Moon: Dreamy with a razor-sharp intuition. Feels the world's pulse, yet dances to their own rhythm simply because, they can. Embraces emotions, yet has an uncanny logical side. Theyâre the artist who sees the world in vivid colors. Deeply empathetic, yet occasionally distant. They're there, but also everywhere else in between. The poet whose words touch the soul.
love,
saint jenxđȘ
© 2023 Saintz Jenx All Rights Reserved
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Second Chance Sorcerer
Chapter 1
Summary: After surviving Mahito's Idle Transfiguration in the Shibuya Incident, Nanami finds himself in an unknown realm between life and death. Will he escape?
Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem! reader
A/N: I can't believe I actually got around to writing this! *sobs*. I hope everyone does take the time to read it, and enjoys what I've created here. This will be a multi-chapter fic, quite different from the one-shots I've posted before. It was originally made with an OC, which can be read on my AO3 account, but all changes have been made to y/n here.
Thank you @actuallysaiyan for making the lovely title banner and for listening to me rant and giving me all the encouragement to finish this chapter. Everyone needs a cheerleader like you. đ
Nanami masterlist | Chapter 2
âYouâve got it from hereâŠItadori kun.â
Those were the last words Nanami remembers saying before Mahitoâs Idle Transfiguration fragmented his soul into smithereens. All he felt was pain, gut-wrenching pain as his soul collapsed and rearranged itself, piece after piece trying various combinations of alignment, trying to come back into some semblance of a whole, like chromosomes after being hit with a lethal dose of radiation.
His eyes squeeze shut, senses overloading as he prepares to meet whatever awaits him on the other side. Would it be a lovely afterlife like heâd hoped? Filled with long days on the beach, reading the backlog of books heâd been holding off on? Laying in the sun, no work, no obligations, just doing whatever he wanted to his heartâs content? He felt warmth against his chest, a bright light emanating from it, and for a split second, it felt like someone was calling out to him, a very familiar voiceâŠ
And all of a sudden it stops. With a thump, he crumples on something solid, his side colliding with the surface. Was this it? Was he in the afterlife? Nanami hesitantly opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings.
At first, it appears like heâs landed on a sidewalk that wound deeply into a very gloomy and derelict-looking city. He could make out buildings, traffic lights, and little shops tucked away in between these larger structures, all of them looking abandoned or in various states of disuse. Not exactly what heâd hoped for. Was this actually the Great Beyond?Â
Nanami pushes himself to his feet, relieved when he realizes heâs not in pain anymore. Had Mahito sent him to a separate contained domain? He squints, trying to find his bearings. There was no sunlight wherever he was, but the street lamps were lit along the length of the sidewalk, casting shadows along the way. He cautiously looks around. The place looks strangely familiarâŠ
He grasps his weapon, the blade having still been in his hand when Mahito touched him, and advances down the road. As he walks, he realizes with a jolt that wherever he is appears to be a phantom of his neighborhood. He recognized this road now, as he had frequented it so often. Up ahead was the grocery store he would go to every Saturday. And right opposite it, a little cafe he would sometimes wander into for their lovely croissants and artisan coffee. The more he walked, the more he started piecing together a map of this area, astonished at what he was seeing. This certainly couldnât be a domain expansion. There was far too much detail resembling the real world and, although the place gave a foreboding aura, seemed to be unoccupied except for himself.Â
He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, lowers his weapon, and tries to think. Logic was telling him Mahito had sent him somewhere, perhaps a sealed space, rather than kill him outright. But if that was the case, why was he healed? His entire left side which had been covered with fatal burns was gone, the skin healed over like new, his eye regenerated, hair grown back. His clothes and shoes had somehow been restored to their original condition, his glasses back to their position on his face.Â
Things werenât adding up. He continued to walk, then came upon a library he remembered passing by in the real world but had never really paid attention to before. Deciding this was as good a spot as any to glean information about his whereabouts, he enters, squinting through the darkness. Lines and lines of shelves stood neatly arranged in the building. Nanami walks between the rows, pausing in between sections for a brief moment before continuing his perusing.Â
He rounds the corner, then quickly presses his back against a bookshelf as he senses an unusual energy signature fading away from him. So he wasnât alone, and the thought wasnât comforting. The energy didnât match a human or a sorcerer, so he had to assume it was a special-grade curse. After his interactions with Jogo and Mahito, he didnât know what to expect in terms of its abilities. He was tempted to escape but knew he had nowhere to go. If he was trapped in this domain what hope was there to escape this odd being he was sensing?
Raising the clothed blade with its polka dot pattern, he follows the energy steadily, not daring to breathe too loudly as he advances. It moves stealthily and silently, as though trying to elude him. This makes him immediately wary, sensing he could be getting lured into a trap. He follows at a distance, then stops as he comes to a reading section, the area cleared out and decorated with little chairs, poufs, and tables. Struggling to see in the dim light, he moves into the open, instincts screaming that heâs making a mistake. He pauses, trying to sense the energy again.
âItâs rude to chase one with a weapon you know.â A voice says from directly behind him. Nanami startles and spins around to face his pursuant, arms immediately coming before him to block an impending attack. Upon seeing the sight before him, his gaze fills with both fear and wonder, the being in front of him a vision of amazement.Â
All he sees at first are a pair of piercing silver eyes that seem to probe the very depths of his soul. Thereâs a quiet insightfulness to them like he was looking into the eyes of an old friend, yet an unsettling intensity that made him feel apprehensive. The being appeared to lack a shape, but as Nanami took another step back, the light from the street lamps showed it to be made of wisps of black shadowy mist, neither fluid nor gas, swirling endlessly around it.Â
Something within him tells him he shouldnât fear this creature, yet all instincts were telling him to charge the attack before it got to him first. They stood, staring at each other through the dimness, before Nanami gathered his courage and asked, âWhat are you? A curse?â
The being huffs, as if it was an impertinent question. âWhat am IâŠWho am IâŠThe question has been asked for centuries. Yet, even I do not have an appropriate answerâŠBut I am most definitely not a curse.â
It glides silently over the floor, and Nanami instinctively raises his weapon. The being appears to look amused, based on the way those intense silver eyes glowed. âPut away your blade, Nanami Kento. The things I could have done to you once you entered my realm canât be defended against by you, or even a special-grade sorcerer for that matter. I doubt even Ryomen Sukuna would stand a chance against me.â The smoky form billows, ebbing and flowing as it circles him.Â
Not entirely reassured, Nanami puts his weapon back in the holder of his suspenders. Thereâs an odd feeling of reverence despite the eerie nature of the being.Â
âI am what they call The Mediator, The One Before Death, or The Spectator.â It answers his question.Â
âAnd where am I?â Nanami asks the shadow.Â
âYou are in between worlds, Nanami Kento.â
âIn between worlds?â The blonde man repeated skeptically. Did such a thing exist? He had never given death much thought (beyond the dying part), and always assumed it was like being asleep one moment and waking up in paradise the next. To be in between worldsâŠhad Mahito somehow just locked him away in another dimension that was a bleak version of his neighborhood?Â
âSoâŠam IâŠalive? But in another dimension?â
The Mediator looked at him thoughtfully, as though wondering how best to explain to him. âYou are alive for now. But you definitely died, otherwise you wouldnât have ended up here in my realm.â
âI died, and came back to life?â The sorcerer frowned at the obscureness with which this said. âThat makes no sense. People donât just arbitrarily resurrect from the dead. I was severely weakened. My soul was unprotected. Mahitoâs attack should have killed me.â
âIt did. However, something at that moment reversed the attack and restored the various fragments your soul had shattered into.â
Disbelievingly, Nanami started running his hands over his torso as though trying to find evidence that he had died. It was justâŠfantasticalâŠimpossibleâŠHe had survived Mahitoâs attack? What divine intervention could have possibly saved him from something so deadly? As his fingers near his wrist, they brush over a small chain, hidden under the cuff of his shirt. He quickly undoes the button and looks incredulously at the small charm, an Aum symbol, dangling from the chain.Â
âY/nâŠâ he murmurs her name softly. His apprentice. He now remembers her fastening one of these to not just him but to Ino and Itadori as well before they were deployed to Shibuya.Â
âThatâs probably what saved you,â the being said evidently, interrupting Nanamiâs thoughts. âWhatever that is, it was imbued with a heavy concentration of neutralized curse energy. So when you died from the attack, that charm activated and repaired your soul.â
Nanami absently fingered the charm, trying to think. Y/nâs ability to neutralize cursed energy had improved immensely under his tutelage, he knew that, but he hadnât imagined it to this extent. Her other ability included being able to manipulate any cursed energy she neutralized into forms of heat, summoning flames on her palms that towered at least 20 feet tall. How she had imbued the energy into the charm was anyoneâs guess.Â
âAnd Iâm in between worlds.â He repeats again, trying to make sure heâs not misunderstanding the conversation.
âIndeed. Think of this as your own personal purgatory.â Those silver eyes bore into him like moons against a black sky, waiting to see his reaction.
Purgatory. Nanami pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, unable to fathom how insane this sounded. âI thought purgatory was for people who needed to be redeemed.â
âIt is usually. But in your case, it looks like the veil partitioning the worlds got confused, seeing as how you left one dead, and then suddenly became alive in another. Death probably couldnât figure out what to do with you so it sent you here instead.â
âSo Iâm stuck here?â
Despite the miraculousness of it all, Nanami couldnât help but feel a twinge of irritation. He had been prepared for death for several years now. So much to the point that he had a will drafted, signed, and sealed, declaring all his possessions to be donated to charity since he had no other family or next of kin. A copy of the keys to his house had been entrusted to the lawyer who had helped draft the will. He had all his affairs set in order with the expectation that his death would be sudden and he was unwilling to burden anyone to deal with the repercussions.Â
He had known he would die in the line of duty. He had accepted his fate the moment Mahito had laid a hand on him in the underground, welcoming death as a tranquil friend. His whole life had been struggle after struggle, a gamble, clawing his way to stay alive. All he could say was that he had been lucky so far. There had to be a moment when that luck ran out. He had been dreaming of knowing peace and death seemed to be the only option for that.Â
âDoes it bother you, that you are alive?â The purgatory being asks him curiously, noting his less-than-happy expression. âMost would rejoice at this second chance for life.â
The question hits Nanami with a gravity he hadnât been expecting. âMost people havenât lived my life. Iâve done enough. Iâm tired. Iâve earned the right to a peaceful death.â
âAnd yet, it looks like someone desperately wanted you to live.â Those hypnotic eyes wander over to the charm dangling on his wrist. âIs that not reason enough? To not want to die?â
Disturbed by the notion, Nanami grips the charm. Y/nâs energy had kept him alive, unwittingly preventing him from moving on into the afterlife. Whether that had been her intent was debatable. Her desperately wanting him to live? It just didnât seem likely to him. Sure, perhaps she didnât want him to die in the way that people didnât want others to die in general. But beyond that? He couldnât fathom her being so consumed by the thought of his death that she would create a charm that essentially kept him alive after having his soul damaged to what should have been a point beyond repair.Â
Y/n had a late start in her career as a sorceress, and certain concepts about it seemed to stymie her, more typically seen in a younger student than someone her age. He had repeatedly told her to not worry about him when he took her on missions, to value her life more than his. He drilled it into her head when he taught her self-defense, that if there was an opportunity to escape she should take it, the hand-to-hand combat sometimes leaving bruises on her skin because sheâd been unwilling to take a shot at him. It always pained him when that happened, marking her, leaving those unsavory blemishes on her but how else was she going to learn that fairness wasnât something that existed in Jujutsu? Her willingness to get a little scuffed up if it meant protecting him from a curse irked him. She was rather like a kitten unwilling to be shooed away from a reluctant petter. His lips curled wryly as he imagined her expression if she ever heard that comparison out loud.Â
âDonât be so cruel Nanami san!â Sheâd probably say, those large (color) eyes looking at him reproachfully. And for a moment, his mindâs eye couldnât picture anything else except that; those large (color) eyes, and the shock in them when he told her that he didnât think heâd live very long. She hadnât said anything to convince him his mindset was wrong, but she did look like he had betrayed her by expressing his very honest and logical opinion. As though he had broken an oath to her by not saying he wanted to live long and prosper.Â
Nanami gives himself a mental shake. This wasn't the time to be thinking about Y/ni's opinion on his death. The bigger task at hand now was figuring out what to do about his imprisonment in purgatory.Â
All the while, the shadow hadnât wavered and had merely continued to look at him work through his inner monologue. Realizing that Nanami had reached a limit, it said, âNo, you are not stuck here. At least, not for very long.â
The sorcererâs head snaps up at those words, eyes narrowing behind the green glass of his frames. âWhat do you mean, not very long?â
âWell, the neutralized energy imbued into that charm? Itâs not infinitely going to remain contained in that. The seal broke when it saved your life, and itâs essentially trickling out little particles of it. It will run out at some point, although itâs difficult to say when that is.â
âAnd when it does run out?â
âYouâll die.â The being says simply. âAnd move on into the next realm. Thatâs the way purgatory is supposed to work. Cleanse you to be fit to live in the realm of death.âÂ
âAnd itâs unknown when that will happen?â
The shadow appears to ponder his question before offering a hesitant guess. âA few days, maybe 4 or 5 at maximum, based on the energy intensity that it's currently emitting.â
âAnd what am I to do for 4 to 5 days here?â Nanami gestures around the gloomy library, obviously not impressed with this arrangement. These extra days before his impending death somehow made a vein pop in his forehead. It was like a pre-death before the actual one.
âWell, you must have noticed by now that this is the neighborhood you used to live in. You are free to wander around here and experience your old life one last time. You can visit your apartment, take the subway and wander around the Jujutsu High campus, or watch a movie in the theater.â The shadow suggested, sounding like a pleasant tour guide for the afterlife. âThink of it as a vacation before your death.â
It struck Nanami as a little absurd but he strokes his chin, considering. âAnd thatâs my only option? To experience my old life before dying?â
âItâs not the only option. You could go back and live.â
A pregnant pause hangs in the air at those words. Nanamiâs eyes widen at the thought. He could go back to the land of the living? He hadnât even considered that as an option. He only had death on his mind. Thoughts of living on a beach, days filled with no responsibility still flickered through his mind but at the same timeâŠ
âWhat is it about life that makes you so hesitant?â The purgatory being asks him inquisitively.Â
Nanami opens his mouth but no words come out. Had he been thinking about how to escape his situation that all he had ever thought about was dying? It wasnât unexpected of him. He had learned so long ago that life was mostly shit, with a few moments of relief folded in. At least it was for curse users. He remembers seeing all the people he knew die, how he had tried to escape from Jujutsu, only to be sucked back in because he knew he didnât fit in anywhere else. When faced with the choice of remaining in a job of corporate greed, or one that endangered his life but was somewhat altruistic, the choice became apparent. He had returned to Jujutsu. Not entirely selflessly, but with the idea that it was the quicker way out of his misery.Â
âIs there nothing you would like to return to?â The shadow presses. âRemember that you are a very rare case. Hardly anyone ends up in purgatory under your circumstances. I would hate to see a life go to waste because you donât know what to do with it.â
A sudden memory comes into Nanamiâs mind. A day of unexpected frivolity, when Y/n, Yuji, and Ino had convinced him to come along to an amusement park. It was an odd day but to his surprise, he hadn't hated it. Y/n had mostly stayed away from the roller-coasters, leaving it to Yuji and Ino, wandering with Nanami to the food stalls, closer in age to him than she was to the boys. It was a strange feeling of domesticity he had never experienced before, almost like they were a hodgepodge family of misfits. It was the closest thing he had experienced to a normal day in a long time.Â
But days like that were rare. They were like sprinkles on top of ice cream. People could never have more sprinkles than ice cream. Life just didn't work that way. However, Nanami found himself contemplating his choices. Perhaps he had been so jaded that he thought life was wading through ice cream instead of appreciating the sprinkles? And here he was dreaming about sprinkles when he was stuck in purgatory.Â
He sighs and shakes his head. âIf I did go back, would it make a difference?â He asks doubtfully.Â
The beingâs eyes crinkle warmly, almost like it's smiling. âTo one person, yes. And isn't that more than enough?â
The charm swings from his wrist like a pendulum. He considers the shadowâs words and feels his heart clench uncomfortably. The stakes almost felt too high, wagering his return to life on the chance that it would make a difference to Y/n. Well, maybe not just her. He frowns as he feels the energy in the trinket resonate for a brief moment when he thinks of her, as though it was trying to convince him to make the gamble. He had never quite paid attention to her energy signature before now, so concentrated within the tiny object; it felt like a warm cup of coffee on a lazy Saturday morning. He feels disconcerted that he could sense this now and it was making him want to change his mind about dying. He sighed deeply, feeling his resolve begin to solidify, even though it felt like he was making the wrong choice.Â
âHow do I get out of here?âÂ
The shadow has no features except its eyes, but if Nanami could assign it an expression, it would have to be triumph. Â
âIâm so glad you asked.â It appraisingly looks at him, before continuing. âPerhaps you might want to let the lady know youâre alive.â
âMust I?â Nanami asks with a hint of exasperation.Â
The shadow looks amused but continues in an even tone. âIâm afraid I must insist. It's better to give people a warning when youâre coming back from the dead. Prepares them for the prospect of seeing you again. Trust me, itâs better that way.â
âAnd how do I do that?âÂ
It merely continues to look at him with that amused expression and Nanami almost lets out a growl of frustration. âListen. I died. Then I was told I wasnât dead, but Iâll die soon. Then I changed my mind and decided I wanted to live. The least you can do is tell me how to get a message out of here.â
The purgatory being laughs; itâs an eerie noise, yet had all the comfort of a long-lost friend. âVery well 7:3 Sorcerer. Itâs simple really. To send a message out of here, all you need to do is blend your cursed energy with the cursed energy of the person youâre thinking about going back to life for. Imbue this energy into a small object which will then find a way to its recipient.â
The elementary way this was said nearly cracks his temper. âIs that all?â He asks, unable to keep the bite of sarcasm out of his voice.Â
The shadow chuckles at this, adding to his ire. âIt really is. Just try focusing on something other than your disappointment of not dying today.âÂ
Nanami takes a deep breath and exhales through his nose trying to keep his composure. âA small objectâŠâ His hand grips the handle of his blade and pulls it out, eyeing it carefully. The whole blade wouldnât make it. He just automatically knew it. But he wanted to make sure Y/n would recognize the message was from him. He fidgets with the blade, thinking, and then by accident, the edge of it comes in contact with the Aum charm.Â
The blend of energy that shoots through him was a shock; a mix of the warm coffee on Saturday mornings, coupled with the calculated preciseness of a seasoned Q-grader who assessed those coffee beans. The polka dots spattered all over the cloth wrapping the weapon glowed at the edges for a brief second before the blade lost contact with the charm.Â
Nanami observed the whole process with fascination. Dormant instinct took over him, and he moved his hand so that the charm now swung over the blade. Focusing on that combined energy signature, he purposefully touches the charm to the blade. Y/nâs neutralized curse energy flows into the blade, and he feels his own beginning to fuse with it. He concentrates on his ratio technique, and with a flash, all the polka dots lift off the blade, glowing with a pale sea foam green aura.Â
âFind her,â he whispers to the dots, and in a hazy glow, they vanish.Â
Nanami watches, as though in a daze, unable to believe what had just happened. He turns to look at the purgatory being.
âMessage sent. Now, how do I get out of here?â
The shadow being had been looking at the spot where the polka dots had vanished. It swirls around and looks at him in the eyes.Â
âBy facing your deepest regrets.â
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pairing: pre!outbreak joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader
series summary: After your grandfatherâs passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But JoelâŠJoel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you donât know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means youâre off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.
genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn
word count: 3.1k
summary: Months after the move you're trying to paint again. But you lack the motivation to do so. Thankfully, Sarah comes over and keeps you company until Tommy and Joel come over to pick her up.
warnings: brief themes of grief, tommy radiating younger sibling energy and being a menace, fluff
a/n: thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed the prologue and a special thank you to @pedrito-friskito who edited the chapter, love you! đđđ
prologue || chapter two
The dust lingers in the air, a constant reminder of what once was. You see flecks of it dancing in the beams of light that pour through the window, illuminating the room with a hazy glow. The smell of dust permeates every corner, fills your lungs. There are still boxes stacked in your room. Some of them waiting to be unpacked and some of them waiting to be filled.Â
Looking through your grandfatherâs old knick-knacks had been a harder task than you thought. You found pictures, lots of them. From his past, from his now. You even found a picture of yourself from when you were a kid; laughing in the sun with mud all over your face. You had promised him the perfect garden. At the end of the day, it was far from it but he still said that it was.Â
Your fingers clench around the brush youâre holding. An hour ago you decided to use the grief to make something of it. You had a heaping amount of black and red paint poured onto the pallete, untouched.Â
You shake your head, agitated. You really shouldnât be wasting paint. Itâs not like you can afford to continuously buy supplies.Â
Youâre staring deeply into the blank canvas when a loud knock jars you back to reality. You can feel a burn in your eyes, taunting you for the wasted hour spent sitting idly without so much as a brushstroke to show for it.
âFor fuckâs sake,â you grumble under your breath while heading to the door. Your eyes linger on the window, itâs a clear day out, which now you decide to point all your anger at. If it was raining, it would be different. You would have the proper ambiance to be inspired.Â
Without looking, you open the door, your eyes immediately dropping to the girl standing on your porch. âSarah?âÂ
âSorry for barging in,â she says with a sheepish grin. âI forgot my keys and dad isnât home yet. Can I come inside?âÂ
Dad. Joel.Â
You blink before smiling. You take a step to the side as a wordless invite. She steps inside with grace, her shoes blinking pink and purple. Itâs hard to stifle a giggle, which earns you a quizzical look from her.Â
You point to her feet, âNice kicks,âÂ
âOh,â her eyes lit up, leaving her heel glued to the hardwood floors, she lifted her foot. âArenât they cool? Azra offered we trade shoes for the day.âÂ
"Veeery nice," you nod, but as Sarah turns to head further inside, you clear your throat. "Shoes off," you remind her.
âRight, sorry.âÂ
You make your way to the kitchen, Sarah follows closely behind, taking off her blinking shoes as she goes. You stretch up on your toes and open the cupboard, searching for Sarah's preferred brand of tea.Â
Since you moved in and formed close bonds with the Miller family, both Tommy and Sarah have been regular visitors to your home. You enjoy their company. It was nice to talk to people instead of obsessing over your muses that had clearly abandoned you.
You pull out the box of apple cinnamon tea and place it on the counter. Joel never stops by. You only see him whenever he comes over to pick up Sarah and thatâs pretty much it. Sometimes you send cookies via Sarah and the next day she would tell you he enjoyed them. You arenât quite sure if Joel is just reserved or if he just didnât like you that much, but no matter what it is, the rest of the family seems to enjoy your presence. Which is all a neighbor could ask for.Â
The staccato drumming of Sarahâs fingers against the wooden table pulls you back. You turn on the kettle, a soft steam filling the kitchen.Â
âYour uncle Tommy is going to stop by too,â you say, leaning back and crossing your arms. âIâm assuming youâre dad is with him?âÂ
âYeah, but itâs pizza day today so my dad will probably force them to stop by the supermarket to grab some stuff,â she lets her head fall onto her hands and adds. âIf he doesnât forget, that is. You should join us,âÂ
The water comes to a boil, forcing you to turn away from her. You place two tea bags into comically large mugs (the ones that make both Tommy and Sarah giggle, which brightens up your day) and pour the steaming water into them. You place one of the mugs in front of Sarah and slide into the chair beside her, watching as she wraps her nimble fingers around the purple mug.Â
âIâm a busy woman,â you tease. âI need to work and stuff,âÂ
âCoffee shop?âÂ
âIâm off for the day,âÂ
A mischievous glint glimmered in her eyes, her smile widening into a cheeky grin. âDate?âÂ
You snort into your tea, waving your hand dismissively. Sarah raises an eyebrow at that. The girl has quite a sharp intuition. If you were being completely honest, it made you nervous some days.
âNah, I just need to work on my paintings. I havenât managed to paint a single stroke. Itâs frustrating,â you stop and take a sip, the fruity flavor makes your taste buds come alive. âVery annoying,âÂ
âMaybe just paint something else or sketch something you like,â she states nonchalantly. âTake a break from the main thing, do a side quest,âÂ
âSometimes I do that, but I really need to get a grip. Iâm gonna end up working at the coffee house forever, or Iâm just going to have to risk starvation,âÂ
âDonât worry. Weâll take you in, feed you,âÂ
Teenagers. You shake your head with an amused smile, âWhat am I? A dog?âÂ
âA friend.âÂ
You still at that, fingers curling around the hot mug, it burns to the touch. Sarah starts to look around your house as if what she just said just now wasnât ridiculously sweet.Â
She hops off the chair and starts to wander with her mug nestled between her palms. Taking a sip, you smile into the porcelain rim, your heart beating fast.Â
When you first moved here, you were scared to be alone. That you wouldnât be able to make any friends. After your grandfather died and left you the house, you had half a mind to not make the move. It was nerve-wracking at the time. But ironically enough it was your grief that spurred you to take the leap forward.Â
Sarah slows down, reaching the bookshelf. The one you have in the living room isnât really that impressive, mostly put there for decor. She pushes a succulent out of the way and allows her fingers to trace the smooth spines. âYou have a lot of childrenâs books,âÂ
âWhat can I say, Iâm a kid at heart,â you observe the bookshelf next to her. She isnât wrong. A lot of Roald Dahl books, which are followed by a series of Nicholas and the Gang books. âIf you want to see my more serious stuff, we can check the one upstairs.âÂ
âIâm good,â Hooking her fingers around Matilda, she pulls the paperback out of its home. She flips it over and scans the back. âCan I borrow this one?âÂ
âSure, be my guest. Thatâs one of my favorites,âÂ
âLiving in a house full of dumb-dumbs sounds like my life story,âÂ
âOh, believe me, your dad is much smarter than he looks,â the sigh you let out attracts her attention, eyes flitting back to you. âAnd so is your uncle. Also, Matildaâs parents are kind of assholes,âÂ
âWoah, spoilers.âÂ
Another knock at the door. Compared to Sarahâs slow, more careful ones. These knocks sound eccentric, hitting the wood as if the person behind it is out to break it.Â
âUncle Tommy,â Sarah guesses, rolling her eyes but smiling. âMy dadâs probably with him,âÂ
Sheâs spot on with her guess. Sarah peers from your side, looking over both her uncle and dad. Tommy shoots you a wide grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Joel stands tall right behind him, his arms crossed, he greets you with a small smile and a signature head tilt.Â
âHello boys,â you say, returning the nod and smile. âDo you guys wanna come in?âÂ
Joel lifts a bag of groceries, âPizza day,âÂ
Sarahâs ears perk up at that, her eyes wide with disbelief, âYou didnât forget!â then she narrows her eyes, sticking her bottom lip out. âWho are you and what did you with to my dad?âÂ
âI had to remind him,â Tommy chuckles, nudging his shoulder into Joelâs. He holds your gaze. âBut Iâm here for you, beautiful,âÂ
âMy hero.âÂ
Joel scoffs with a half grin and gestures his head towards Sarah, âGet your things. Letâs get going.âÂ
All Sarah has to do is lean to the side and grab her backpack from behind the door. Joel waits for her below the short set of stairs, one hand in his pocket, eyes flicking between you and Tommy. He seems impatient, almost.Â
Tommy brushes past you while Sarah takes her first step over the threshold. At that very moment you feel suspended in time, your eyes finding Joelâs for a brief moment until Sarah comes into view. He slaps a hand over her shoulder and smiles at you. Sarah is still holding the book as she waves you both off.Â
When you close the door, Tommy is already in the kitchen, rummaging through your fridge. âYou have nothinâ to eat,âÂ
âI thought we could order out,â you offer, your gaze falling to the blank canvas. Tommy moves his entire upper body out of the fridge and slams it shut.Â
âYou have anything in mind?âÂ
You donât have to think long for an answer.Â
âYou know what? I think Iâm craving pizza.âÂ
The thing about Tommy Miller is that heâs a good listener, paired with quite the mouth.Â
He can talk for hours. You always comment on how that was his superpower; there RE no awkward silences when Tommy Ä°s near. Heâs also ridiculously intuitive, which makes you think Sarah got it from him.Â
You two are sitting on the couch with crossed legs and facing each other. Your knees press together as he tells you about his day, munching on the last slice. Heâs telling you how the concrete deliveries got delayed, which meant that the rest of their schedule got fucked. His words, not yours. Joel was furious, apparently. You never wouldâve guessed. He just looks tired all the time.
âBy the way,â he says, swallowing and reaching for the glass of bubbling coke. âIf you were cravinâ pizza so much, we couldâve gone over to Joelâs. Eat some of that good homemade shit,âÂ
Picking up the empty pizza box, you place it on the coffee table and push it with the tips of your fingers. You donât know how to answer him. Your brows furrow, and when he sees it, worry crosses his face.Â
A bitter chuckle drops abruptly from your lips, âI donât think Joel likes me very much,âÂ
âWhat?â Tommy sounds positively horrified. If anyone heard, they wouldâve thought you said something along the lines of your mother dying. âNonsense. He adores you. Why would you even think that?âÂ
Your eyes drop to the cushions you sit on. You feel the brush of his knuckles ghosting over your cheek, prompting you to meet his gaze. His eyes are a soft brown, a shade lighter than Joelâs.Â
âHey, you can talk to me. Did he do something to make you feel like that?âÂ
âN-No,â you slowly shake your head, your pulse throbs under your skin. âI justâŠI donât know. It seems like heâs wary of me, like I did something wrong once and heâs expecting it to happen again,âÂ
He sighs, his palm now fully cradling your cheek. You canât help but lean into his touch. âThatâs just Joel for you. Heâs got a fair share of weight on them shouldersâIâm also probably not a big help to him. Always getting into trouble,âÂ
âI know for a fact that Sarah and Joel love you very much,â you have the need to remind him, and his eyes light up at your words. The skin under his hand burns. âBesides young siblings are always trouble, I would know since Iâm the younger one as well. Itâs character.âÂ
He blows a raspberry into the air. His hand falls from your cheek and takes refuge over his lap. âSome character,â he utters under his breath, shooting you a playful gaze. âYou want me to talk to him?âÂ
âPlease no,â you laugh, slapping him on the shoulder as you get up. âThat would be super embarrassing,âÂ
âSometimes you need to tell that stubborn dog to behave,â his voice reaches you in waves, his socked feet following you to the kitchen. You dispose of the boxes, start to prepare him, and you some late-night tea.Â
âHe is behaving,â you reply, feeling his presence behind you. âI just get into my own head sometimes. Donât worry about it.âÂ
Your hands are still above the kitchen counter when you feel his warm breath fanning the back of your neck. You watch his fingers curl around the edge, his chin not quite pressing but lingering a couple of centimeters above your shoulder.Â
âAnyone who doesnât like you is a grade-A idiot, just sayinââ his voice is a low echo in your ear. Heâs not physically touching you, but it feels as if his entire being is consuming you by just being so close. The click of the kettle parts the silence. âThe waterâs done.âÂ
Youâre surprised when you turn and find that thereâs actually quite a bit of space between you still. You couldâve sworn that his body was only a breath away.Â
Tommy steps closer, caging you between his arms and the kitchen counter. He has a lazy, yet adoring, smile on his face. Your legs start to tremble, a habit you found you did whenever you were in any kind of confrontation.Â
Now, there isnât really anything to confront, so you blame the crackling of tension between you and him. You take a breath and your chest heaves.
You hold your breath when you notice heâs starting to inch closer, gorgeous browns dropping to the flush of your lips. You donât pull away. But you donât lean in either. Youâre like a deer in headlights, shocked by the sudden beam of brightness.Â
âIs this okay?â he asks in a whisper. You swallow, your muddled mind finding it difficult to string the words that might or might not form a coherent sentence.Â
Tommy has always been a close friend. A confidant. Someone you can call in the middle of the night with noquestions asked. You know for a fact that he can be a flirt. And this quality of his cheered you up from time to timeâlike when he calls you beautiful or praises you in any shape or form. But youâre quite not sure you want to breach the limitations of a platonic relationship.Â
Suddenly you feel his lips on your cheek, pulling back as quickly as he leaned in, he releases you from the cage and grins at you.Â
âGotcha.âÂ
âExcuse me?â Your mouth feels like sandpaper and your throat dry. You swallow and watch him sit on a stool across from you. His fingers grip the peaking part of the stool head between his legs, he looks like a toddler.Â
âIâm just doing my thing, being a troublemaker. Just like you said,â he hunches forward, eyes looking up to you between dark lashes. âItâs character, right?âÂ
âOh fuck off, Tommy Miller,âÂ
âYou know Iâm not above accepting that offer, right? Itâs been a while.âÂ
You roll your eyes and turn on the kettle again, the steaming water now probably tepid.Â
âWhat would you do if I actually kissed you?âÂ
The question lingers in the air and uncomfortably presses into your skin, you lack the air to take a breath. You donât dare to look at him. Gaze stubbornly watching the button of the kettle to pop, signaling you that the water is boiling.Â
âI donât know Tommy,â you answer honestly and press a palm against the heating surface of the kettle. âI donât know.âÂ
You hate taking out the thrash.Â
You donât know why. When you were a kid, it was your dad who took it out and that would always be accompanied by a series of complaints. His habit of talking to himself and to the inanimate objects around him had passed on to you. The night air chills your skin, a shiver shuddering up your spine while you struggle to keep the trash bag in the air with one hand. Your nails begin to tear the plastic and you start to walk faster.Â
âShit, shit, shit,â you mutter, arm cramping. âCome on, just a little further,âÂ
When you reach the container, you lift the bag with a heave and do a small little hip wiggle at the small victory.Â
Turning around you see Joel watching you with a wide smile.Â
Youâre stunned into silence, arms and legs tingling at the thought of how stupid you mustâve looked. Heâs holding a trashbag of his own. Red flannel accentuating his narrowing hips perfectly. He cocks his head to the side when you continue to stare.Â
âAre you always this excited after throwinâ out the thrash?â he asks, humored by your reaction.Â
While you think of an answer, he takes wide steps and throws out his own trash. Joel then turns to you, the only thing separating your bodies being the white picket fence.Â
âLetâs just say that I was happy it didnât rip while making the trip,âÂ
He nods while pressing his hands into his thighs, âA worthy thing to celebrate.âÂ
You shift from one leg to another. The conversation you had with Tommy the night before echoes in your head worry clouding your chest with the question âdid Tommy say anything?â. Â But you assume not when Joel takes a step back, palms sliding down his jeans like a nervous tick.Â
âWell then,â he clears his throat. âSee you later neighbor,âÂ
You lift your hand to wave, an early smile starts to curl over your lips. However, your half-uttered goodbye is cut short by the absurdly loud growl of your stomach.Â
Ah fuck.Â
Joel stills. Your cheeks and the tips of your ears burn. His eyes drop to your arms that are now wrapped tight around your stomach, then he lifts his gaze back up to meet yours.Â
âYou wanna join us for dinner?â he asks, he pronounces every word slowly, reminding you of the way you whisper to animals that you donât want to scare away. âSarahâs makinâ her special burgers,âÂ
âSpecial?â you ask back, ignoring the fact that youâve become a charity case in a blink of an eye. âWhat makes them special?âÂ
Hand sliding into his pockets, Joel gestures with his head for you to come over.Â
âWhy donât you come over and see for yourself?âÂ
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hi hiđł
can you please do daddy!bucky x babyspace!reader (like the reader has a pacifier, a bottle, wears nappies) where daddy bucky is having playtime with the reader playing peek a boo with the reader knowing itâs their favourite game and he tickles them a lot because he loves hearing baby reader giggle and squeal and then he feeds baby reader a bottle and rocks them to sleep?
sorry if thatâs weird or cringy đ
Hi there love! đ
No please, your request is perfect sweetie! Donât think the things you want to see written are weird or cringe, the one you ask is really cute and I love it!
I Hope you like what I wrote for you â€ïž
Enjoy <33
*****
Warnings : playful, tickles, teasing, kisses, pet names, diaper, sleepiness
Pairings : Daddy!Bucky x Little!Reader
Summary : It's your day alone with your Daddy today but sleepiness seems not to want to leave you. While he was changing you, he thought it could be fun to play a little game to waking you up... now you just have to protect your sensitive skin
*****
The morning sun is peeking through your window but apparentely it's not enough to wake you up.
About 30 minutes later, your Daddy walks inside your room and smiles when he sees you still sleeping. It's the second morning that your Papa is away for a mission and even tho he misses Steve, he loves having you for himself. He loves taking care of you.
He quietly sits on the edge of the bed and gently strokes your arm up and down with the tip of his fingers. You removed the cover in your sleep because it was burning hot in there.
You wiggle a little but still sleep pronfondly. he chuckles to himself because he knows you better than anyone and he knows how hard it is to wake you up.
He gets up and lies on top of you while groaning "waky waky, babygirl" he says in a funny way
You groan and open an eye "daddyy" you whine. He hummes with a silly smile. He knows he's being annoying and he loves it.
"get off" you whine again making him chuckle "rude little one" He rests his chin on your shoulder and tilts his head "i'm going to stand up only if your promise me that you'll get up too"
You groan louder "fineee"
He smiles and stands up. He watches you sitting on the bed and he can tell it wasn't easily, you really are tired this morning. You peer up at him with tired eyes and a little pout which make him smile. he tilts his head and walks to you, he lifts you up in his arms and you immediately wraps yourself around him like a koala.
"you need to be change baby ?" he asks and you nod your head. He walks in the bathroom and lies you down on the changing table. You let him change you and clean you, once he closed your beautiful purple diaper he looks back at you.
He frowns when he sees your beautiful eyes closed. He shakes your hips softly "little one" he sighs "it's not the time to sleep"
You moan and grimace but don't open your eyes "baby" he says less impatient now.
ââOpen those beautiful eyes or youâre gonna regret it, babygirlââ he teases, trying to scare you.
He knows you wonât be scared but he wants you to play and he knows how to make you in the mood.
As he expected, your eyes stay closed so he tries something else ââletâs play a gameââ
He opens your eyes with his fingers and chuckles because of the face youâre making. ââYou have to keep your eyes open for the game babyââ
You groan but open your eyes, the call of a game too strong to go back to sleep.
You see your Daddy hiding his eyes and your eyes immediately light up. You absoutely love that game, you play it with your Daddy or Papa each time you're not in the mood.
They know how much you love it, it makes you feel little and you love it when they're playful like this with you.
He smiles behind his hands when he hears you giggle at the anticipation
"peeeeek aaaa..." he trails on, he feels you wiggling on the changing table at his teasing.
"Boo!!" he yells in his silly tone making you squeal loudly. He hides back his eyes with his hands and start all over again. He comes closer to you with his masked face and you bite your lower lip.
"Peek aaa.." He says more quietly than before but the teasing in his voice is still there.
When he says 'boo', his claws jump on your ribs and he shakes them. Your hands grab his wrists but you don't try to move them, you just laugh to hard for that.
He chuckles along with you and move his hands away from your senstive skin. He doesn't lose a time and hide back his eyes, your giggles are still leaving your throat because you knopw the game is about to start again.
He waits seconds before finally starting "peek aaaa.." He bend forward in a quick movement and yells "boo" loudly again before jumping on your skin once again.
You yell and harsh your back, this time he targets your sides and belly and the feeling is still the same than before ; torturous.
"Daddy toppp" You laugh. He notices from your tone that you had enough and decide to stop. It's all fun and games but he never wants to go too far, it's not the point of it.
He chuckles and kisses your belly button before putting on you your new diaper.
You're now all ready for the day with your Daddy
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Behold, this absolutely stunning commission I recently received from my dear friend Bones (@bonefries ), just in time for the anniversary today!! đđ„șđ This is the first commissioned art I've ever gotten that has all four members of our family: me and Jamie, along with our daughter Olivia and our best friend Mako. I'm absolutely blown away by how wonderful this art is, Bones is such a treasure for making this for me and I'm going to be treasuring it for a long time đ„șđđ„șđđ„șđđ„șđ
[đđ§Ąđ„ș All reblogs are seen and very much appreciated!! đ„șđ§Ąđ]
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Can I request G!P Agatha Harkness x Reader? Smut đ
Morning After
Pairings: Agatha Harkness x reader
Word count: 1942
Warnings: Agatha has a dick, pet names, begging, fluff, mentions of marriage, praise kink, degrading kink, shower sex, breeding kink, mommy kink, probably forgot some more
No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!
The blazing noise of the alarm rippled through your ear as your eyes slowly adjusted to the bright light from the window. Even with a curtain, it was brighter than the sun and burned your eyes. Agatha was still sleeping peacefully. She was a heavy sleeper and took forever to get out of bed in the morning. Her hair was sprawled out across the pillow as soft snores escaped her. She had always claimed she hated how youâd admire her in her sleep, even joking that you were a stalker. You knew she secretly loved it though, she loved everything you did.
âAgatha? Câmon, you need to wake up.â She groaned in annoyance but complied after a few minutes of struggling. She shuffled to face you before opening her eyes, hers meeting yours as a smile took place on both of your faces. Her gaze soon drifted downwards to your hand holding hers, bringing it close to her mouth as she left a small kiss on the ring you wore.
âMy beautiful, beautiful wife.â It had been only 24 hours since the wedding and she still couldnât get over it. You were her wife now. Her forever love. She didnât want it any other way.
âMm, I should be saying that about you, my love.â You moved on top of her body, your leg swinging around her waist and her arms going to hold you in place. You connected your lips with hers and wrapped your arms around her neck. Her hands traveled to your bottom and gave a small squeeze, causing you to giggle into her mouth and break apart.
âGood morning.â You whispered after a few moments of taking in one another. You couldnât keep your eyes off of her, she was too ethereal.
âGood morning to you as well, darling.â Even after nearly 5 years of being together, you never got sick of her pet names. It was a way of showing her love and you didnât complain one bit.
âYou ready for a nice day on the beach with margaritas and tanning and swimming?â You sang in an awfully happy tone. She laughed as you went on and on about all of the things you could do together, it was only your first day here and you already wanted to accomplish everything.
âOr,â She started, âWe could lay in bed for a few more hours, get some good sleep, have breakfast sent up to us, and have some nice lazy sex.â You rolled your eyes and got off her, moving her hands that followed you off of your body and walked towards the bathroom.
âOr you could join me in the shower and get ready for a nice day at the beach.â And while she wasnât the most ecstatic about the last part, she could never deny showering with you. She rushed out of bed faster than youâve ever seen her do and tossed around the knob to the shower handle a few times before it turned on. You laughed quietly to yourself and quickly brushed your teeth before joining her under the warm water. She had always liked burning hot showers that would redden her skin, but you took colder ones, so you had to settle in the middle eventually.
The entire time you spent cleaning off your body she had her arms placed around your waist and her head resting on your shoulder.
âBaby, I need to wash my hair.â She grabbed the shampoo bottle and refused to give it to you as she squirted it into her palm and started rubbing it onto your scalp. You moaned as she continued to massage your head and you leaned back into her. She gulped when hearing your whimpers continue.
âMm, right there.â She stopped for a moment and took a deep breath before mustering up the courage to continue. It turned her on so much hearing your moans, she could only picture hearing them in a different situation. She leaned closer into you and thatâs when you felt it, she was hard. You rubbed yourself onto her for a split second, but it wasnât enough for her, she grabbed your hips and pulled you into her. Your eyes widened at her forcefulness as she started kneading your breasts roughly. She tweaked and pinched your nipples as she humped you from behind.
âAgatha-â
âShh, I need this, baby.â You found yourself guiding her length between your thighs and resting just below your center. Her tip prodded at your folds as she started a rhythm of moving back and forth. She released a low moan at the feeling of your soft skin and bit her lip as noises escaped you. Your abused breasts were finally let go moments later as she bent you over to hit the walls. Your hands pressed against the tiles and your head hung low. Agatha grabbed her cock in her palm, her free one interlacing with yours. She guided her length to your tight hole, slowly pushing in just the tip as you squealed at the stretch.
âI know, I know. Iâll make it fit, donât worry.â You trusted her word and tried your best not to scream as she filled you up to the brim. Once she had bottomed out inside of you, she waited a minute. She didnât want to start thrusting into you right away and hurt you. So she took the time to take in your warmth. Your walls clamped around her, you were so tight.
âFuck, Iâve stretched this pussy out so many times and youâre still so damn tight.â She grunted out, clenching her teeth together as she tried her best to hold back.
âY-you can move now.â She grinned to herself and slowly drew out of you, only to thrust back in seconds later. Your body moved with her rhythm, your tits bouncing and hips moving with her. She could barely even pull out, you were that tight.
âAggie, please! Please go faster!â
âAww, my little slut wants mommy to speed up? Is it not enough for you, hm? Is mommy not fucking you good enough?â You shook your head no and went to speak but were interrupted by a moan.
âN-no, mommy. You fuck me so well, so, so well!â She giggled and placed a hand on your back, admiring all of the scratches and hickeys adorning your body from last night. She had always loved marking you, it was a way to show off what was hers to idiots who didnât understand that. Wanda was one of them. She just couldnât keep her hands away from you, even when Agatha had specifically told her to step back.
The woman in mind made her jaw clench in anger, her pace now becoming unbearable. You ached for release, your body grappling in the pleasure she gave. You knew your wife wouldnât let you go that easily, you were to work for it. She had always loved watching your body twitch and fold in response to her touch. Knowing how desperate and needy sheâd make you turned her on more than you could ever think.
The glass has steamed up by now, the fog making its way around the room and covering it to create a misty glow. You were lucky you hadnât been doing this at your house, you wouldnât know how to handle looking at the water bill afterward.
âYou feel so good around my cock. Could stay like this forever.â She threw her head back as you clenched around her repeatedly. Her hand came down to your ass, caressing the skin gently before a harsh smack followed.
Your moans only grew in volume. Agatha knew you were trying to say something, but neither of you could encode it under your mumbles.
âCâmon now, bunny, canât you use your words like a big girl? Or are you just too much of a dumb little pup to speak?â You tried, you really did, but it was too difficult to speak as she pounded into you. Her skin slapped against yours so well and created a loud clapping sound that echoed across the entirety of the small room. Her hands felt so gentle yet so rough against your wet skin. Her tip hit that spot deep inside of you - it had you nearly screaming.
When nothing but silence met her, she sighed with disappointment, stopping her thrusts almost fully. âI shouldâve known you couldnât listen. Youâre just a greedy slut, huh?â She slowed her hips and smirked as you cried out.
âNo, no, no - donât stop! Mommy, I need you. I need your cum..â She smiled at that, gripping your hair tightly in her hand and yanking you closer to her. Her mouth was right next to your ear now, her voice coming in a dark whisper. âThen work for it.â You moved back and forth slowly at first, shyly starting a small rhythm until it wasnât enough. You needed more, but she wasnât giving in.
âThatâs it, love, keep taking me like the good girl I know you are.â She said, her arms brisking around you and pressing against your stomach.
âYou feel that, mommy? You feel how deep you are?â She pressed against the bulge and groaned loudly.
âI know, baby, I know. Mommy must be making you feel so good. Maybe Iâll even fill you up, give you what you want and put a baby in you.â You nodded as a whimper flooded out of you.
âMm, I can see it now. My perfect wife, pregnant with my baby. Youâll be so needy for my cock, and it would just be so rude of me not to touch my little princess.â Her fingers trailed down to your clit - you jumped at the contact.
âMommy, itâs too much! I need your cum, I need it so bad!â
âYeah? My dirty slut wants mommyâs cum?â You nodded once more and almost instantly felt her release painting your walls. You couldnât stop yourself as you came on her length, your hands clenching into fists as you tried to grip onto anything for support. It felt like your legs were going to give out, they were jelly. Behind you, Agatha was biting her lip in order to suppress the moans that were begging to get out.
âYeah, take it, baby. Take my fucking cum.â She said through gritted teeth. She kept thrusting into you, slowly this time. She didnât want you to become too sensitive and actually hurt you, she wouldnât be able to live with herself if she had.
âYou did so well. So, so well for me, sweetheart.â You winced when she slowly pulled out of you, receiving soft apologies and a peck to the top of your head. Her juices trickled down your thigh and she watched with heavy eyes, completely mesmerized. Only when you had turned the water off and led the both of you out of the shower had she trailed her eyes away.
âYou know, as great as this was, I still will be forcing you to go to the beach with me later.â You said once your breathing returned to normal. She breathlessly laughed behind you and wrapped the towel around herself, the bathroom floor being slightly wet due to the mist that had painted the room.
âWell, maybe Iâll fuck you again on the beach then.â She playfully smacked your ass as you walked out of the room, soon being joined by your wife as you sat down on the bed.
âOr, you could fuck me right here and then at the beach?â
âHow could I ever say no to you?â
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Spring | JJK
Hello darlings!!!
Pairing: royal guard!Jungkook x princess!Reader, prince!Jimin x princess!Reader (ft. Yoongi & Hoseok)
Summary: In which you, princess of the Gyeongdong Dynasty, were in the middle of wedding plans. An arranged marriage that would guarantee your father's bloodline to stay on the throne.
Or in which you are assigned a new royal guard that swore to protect you with his life. Jeon Jungkook. That's his name. A name you could never forget. A name that, slowly but surely got engraved not only in your memories but also in your heart.
Love, politics, betrayal and desire. All in ancient history. A love that never should have happened, two souls that wouldn't be allowed to be together.
Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of past life, reincarnation! AU, implied soulmate! AU, flashbacks, ft. Yoongi and Hoseok, modern! AU, lost love, yearning, strangers to lovers???, all the feels, crying, there's a kiss, sweet and soft koo, hurt/comfort, (let me know if I missed anything!)
Word Count: 10.4 k
A/N: Hello, darlings! Welcome the the finale of "Four Seasons"! I know you guys have waited a looong time for this part to come out but it is finally here so let's see how Jungkook and our Princess will end their love story!
This whole story was highly inspired by "Moon Lovers" and the ending it should have had, (in my humble opinion). I included different scenes of other movies/shows/dramas that I liked with the hope you will like it as well.
Also thank you guys so much for 200 followers! Take this as my thank you gift, darlings!
Thank you so much for all the love this series got and thank you for sticking up with me to see the end of this journey and hopefully the beginning of many more! Please let me know your thoughts in the comments, darlings! Happy reading, everyone!
đ Boraghae ARMY đ
~Taglist for Four Season: @valhallawhispers @lovingkoalaface @seokout @ackercute @jksusawife
~Tagging people who were waiting for the finale (I apologise if you didn't want to be tagged) @jjanjankook @junghoseok07 @vminkookgf @allie-is-a-panda
We have lived through centuries, carrying many lives, carrying many deaths. Carrying a world only remembered by our pure soul.
Jungkook opened his eyes, it was still dark outside. He sighed, reaching over his nightstand and picking up his phone. His eyes burned with the sudden light coming from the small device as he turned off his morning alarm.
The phone rested on his chest as he hesitated whether to get up and go to work or probably call sick today once more. Yet a sudden weight getting on the bed made him sigh once more. His other hand blindly searched for his large and sweet dog to pet him lazily while remembering Bam was running out of food and he needed to buy another bag, that meant he had to go to work once more.
With a soft groan, he sat on the bed, searching for his slippers before he stood up and walked out of the bedroom with Bam hot on his heels.
The sun was barely out yet the sky was already painted in beautiful hues of blue and orange. Decorated with the soft looking clouds that seemed to have been delicate brushes over a painting in the museum Jungkook worked at.
Loneliness encapsulated Jungkook's heart as he gazed at the beautiful sky, he almost felt as if there was something missing in his life or rather, someone. He felt empty, divided and there was nothing that could fill that void in his soul.
He tried getting into cooking, but the soft ache was always there. Working out was the solution for some time but as soon as he was back home, that melancholy drowned his soul once more. It made him ache, dream and yearn for something he didn't even know what it was but he felt like he needed it to survive.
Spring had arrived a couple of weeks ago, the trees were blooming with beautiful pink flowers and the petals fell on the ground softly, creating an enchanting path to walk by. The parks were full of greenery and the birds began to sing after the crude winter. Warmer days were to come.
Jungkook found himself walking through the same streets like every morning to get to his full-time job. He walked monotonously, his earpods on only to stop people from talking to him, not that it had happened many times but there was something about today that he didn't wish to interact with people. The least he did it, the better.
No music filled his ears, the walk was monotonous; monochrome even. Without an ounce of colour in his life even when spring was flourishing around him.
However, the sudden smell of fresh roses invaded his senses and he was pulled back from his mind and looked around the crowd that walked alongside him but were unaware of his mundane existence.
Many people surrounded him. Many people continued their paths while he stood rooted to the ground. The scent so soft and calming it made his heart skip a beat without thinking about it. But the feeling was lost before he could fully grasp it. Something clawed at his heart to search for such a unique scent, to go after the person who owned it but the idea dissipated from his mind like fog in a spring morning as someone bumped his shoulder softly and Jungkook was forced to continue moving with the crowd who carried him away of his very first taste of spring.
You stared out of the window of your car, your chin rested over your knuckles as you lost yourself in your thoughts. You noticed the beautiful cherry blossoms have already bloomed, spring has arrived sooner than you thought. But despite the mesmerising view outside of your car, you felt nothing about the pink petals that signalled a new season has started.
Almost as if your heart was frozen. Many called you that. Ice Queen. For people have rarely ever seen you smile. As if it was physically harmful for you to do so. The public always had its eye on you given that you were the only and beautiful daughter of a very important politician, your life was surely of entertainment to the media.
"Did you check the files I sent you yesterday?"
Hoseok, your best friend and personal assistant, spoke next to you. His voice brought you back from your thoughts. You turned to look at him with that emotionless expression he had already gotten used to as you spoke with a dry voice.
"Of course. If I'm going to buy something, I inform myself well, Hoseok. You already know the drill."
He sighed, opening his phone as he checked a new message from your father.
"Is there anything that caught your eye?"
You took a deep breath, your fingers playing with the bracelet you never took off as you spoke with that same bored tone he honestly hated in you. Not because Hoseok had come to terms with it meant he liked it. He had once heard your beautiful laughter. Your precious smile was enough to illuminate a whole room. But that had been long ago. Many years had passed since those golden days. Days when you didn't have responsibilities, when there were no explicit expectations. Days when you both were only children.
"I want to see the paintings. The Gyeongdong Dynasty is known for their magnificent art but I won't be convinced until I see such art pieces with my own eyes."
Hoseok sighed yet again. If he got a dollar for every time he sighed these days he'd already be rich.
"Stubborn as ever."
He muttered under his breath and you turned around to look out of the window, hiding the minuscule smirk that threatened to break over your cherry red lips.
The car stopped in front of the Leeum Museum. You looked at the building, hearing how Hoseok stepped out of the car, just as your driver. Your best friend walked around the car and opened the door for you. With graceful movements you stepped out as well and stood tall on your ground as Hoseok closed the door behind you.
"I'll call you when weâll be getting back."
Hoseok spoke to the driver, the older man bowed down at you both before he got in the car again and drove off. You stood in front of the museum, admiring the beautiful architecture. Soft wind made your hair fly slightly as you began walking to the castle of arts with Hoseok trailing behind you.
A sudden melancholy filled your heart with each step you took towards the building. As if you had been missing something and were only about to find it. It clawed at your heart and you shuddered at the feeling. Suppressing it as the double doors opened for you and you entered the elegant and modern museum, wanting to stay and leave at the same time.
"Today Miss Lee will be visiting us for her purchase, Jungkook."
Yoongi spoke as he leaned back on his office chair while twirling a pen between his fingers. Jungkook nodded, hands clasped in front of him as he listened attentively.
"She is an extremely special client, one of our main buyers. I am trusting you to tend to her every need. Don't mess with her. Let her roam around and when she decides what artefact she'd want to buy, bring her here. I'll sign the paperwork."
Jungkook looked at his boss and friend with curiosity in his big doe eyes.
"Is there anything specific I should know about her?"
Yoongi sighed deeply, twirling his chair a bit to the right as he looked outside the beautiful gardens of the elegant museum.
"You really don't follow the media, do you? Miss Lee (y/n) is known to have a very difficult temper. She has never been seen smiling and her attitude is as cold as ice, according to netizens. Don't follow her too closely, don't even look her in the eyes. We can't lose such an important purchaser as her."
"I understand."
Jungkook reassured with firmness in his voice, feeling something oddly familiar at the mention of the stoic woman's name. Something within himself he wasn't quick enough to grasp.
"You may go, she is expected to arrive any minute now."
The younger man nodded, bowing softly before he left the classy and minimalist office. Jungkook descended the marble staircase that led to the offices above only to come face to face with Jung Hoseok himself.
"Mr. Jung."
He acknowledged. Hoseok turned to look at Jungkook before a warm smile appeared on his delicate and beautiful features.
"Ah, you must be Jeon Jungkook, right?"
The latter nodded, extending his right hand forward. Hoseok shook his hand firmly before the both men began walking back to the gallery.
"I apologise. I wasn't notified when Miss Lee arrived. I'd like to introduce myself to her."
Jungkook spoke with professionalism in his deep voice. Silently earning Hoseok's silent approval about the younger man.
"Of course. I left her in the ancient relics hall. Let's go there, shall we?"
You had ventured on your own when Hoseok left you to search for the man who was going to accompany you and assess you in your purchase. You didn't pay him much thought as he disappeared around the corner, leaving you alone in the large and beautiful house of arts.
Your feet carried you through the halls, your heels clicking in the marble floors and echoing among the walls that told centuries of history.
The exhibition of the Gyeongdong Dynasty was one the public have been waiting for a long time now. Curious as ever as to what item were you to purchase as preservation of cultural treasure as per your father's own political project.
There was something terribly familiar about the artefacts you saw kept in glass boxes. Historical treasures were kept intact, there was jewellery from noble families and even the royal families of the dynasty that were managed to be restored.
Paintings, clothes, old parchments, vases and even toys were all around the place. You walked over to the hallway where the artefacts of the royal families were kept. Ignoring the heaviness in your steps, the sourness in your heart, the odd feelings that clawed at your heart.
A big glass wall allowed you to witness the mesmerising view of the gardens, cherry blossoms in all their resplandor bloomed at the very background, pink petals decorated the outer grounds and a small fountain was at the centre of the small yet lovely garden that you felt a sudden urge to go to.
You watched it in silence. The soft and pink petals falling behind you with delicate motions. Spring had arrived. But your heart was frozen. Cold as it missed something you yearned for yet didn't know what it was or how to find it. An empty feeling that had lived within you for as long as you can remember.
With a sigh, you forced yourself to avert your eyes from the garden and focus back on the artefacts around the big room. You watched replicas of the dynasty's royal robes. A dress colour orange picked your attention the most, perhaps for its intriguing details or beautiful tailoring. Maybe because of the extravagant colour but you found yourself staring at it for quite some time. A heaviness weighing your heart down as you forced yourself to move forward from the dress you knew once belonged to a princess.
You passed the row of robes and dresses in glass cages, focusing on the paintings hanging on the walls with their respective description below.
First family of the Gyeongdong Dynasty.
Second family of the Gyeongdong Dynasty.
Third family of the Gyeongdong Dynasty.
And so on. It was mostly a man and a woman in the painting, some had children others did not. And you guessed they were the kings and queens of the long lost dynasty that brought the land to prosperity before the Goryeo dynasty started.
You stopped in front of a painting of a man and a woman, both quite beautiful in the art piece. The woman in the painting was holding a baby in her arms and you couldn't help but tilt your head slightly at the strange familiarity you felt towards the beautiful portrait.
There were no names of the people in the painting, the Gyeongdong Dynasty had suffered quite the loss of information when the palace caught fire during the last family of the bloodline. However, you couldn't stop staring at the woman in the portrait. You didn't know why, but it almost felt as if you were watching yourself in a mirror.
You felt as if you resembled her, as if your soul recognised her even when you hadn't seen such a portrait before. The man however made you nostalgic over their sad story.
According to the description of the painting, the man and the woman were married and had a son but she had died of a heart disease. He never remarried and historians said the queen was deeply loved by her husband.
The more you looked at the painting, the heavier your heart felt. It was a family portrait. A family portrait that told a sad story. It made your heart clench in your chest and you took a step back, as if the painting was cursed by the heavens and you had to walk away from it.
Perhaps you needed to stop taking that herbal tea Hoseok always pestered you to drink on an empty stomach.
You felt your stomach sink when you saw the next painting. You recognised the man from the last portrait. The young king. His queen was by his side in the large throne hall and all the officers stood in front of the throne in line. You saw a man, standing next to the queen that wore dark robes and had rough and large hands clasped in front of him.
It felt as if you were dreaming. Watching a movie or remembering something you had forgotten as images flooded in your mind and you found yourself drowning in the violent waters that was the mind.
---
A soft smile was plastered over your features while still facing him. However, he ignored what you said and commented, his voice a bit more distant than before.
"You will trip if you walk like that."
It was a statement rather than a possibility and that had you frowning up at him. If he was going to be like this then your little trips to the city and nearby villages were going to be a bit dull, at least until you got to your desired destination.
"I won't! I don't lik-"
But your sentence got cut off when, just as he predicted, you tripped with a small rock. You gasped when you felt your body being pulled down to the ground by gravity, the heavy skirts of your dress not allowing you to gain back your footing.
It was only when you felt a firm hand grasping yours and a pull over your body when you were back on your feet.
"I told you you would trip over."
Officer Jeon said, his voice cold and distant but you were able to catch a tinge of humour behind his words. A soft blush painted your cheeks when you realised he was still holding your hand in his surprisingly warm one.
Out of a sudden you felt shy, retrieving your hand from his grasp and taking a couple of steps away from him as you hadn't noticed just how close the two of you were a mere second ago.
"That... that was- it wouldn't... aish. I don't like for people to walk behind me, I feel like I'm being followed. Just... just do me the favour, could you? Just walk next to me, I promise you won't get in trouble."
He sighed, looking around before agreeing with a silent nod.
"And, thanks by the way. For not letting me fall down."
He bowed slightly, the both of you continuing your path down to the city.
"I was just doing my work, Princess."
You had to bite down on your lip to keep the smile from shining all over your face. He indeed took that vow to heart. You thought. Looking up at him, you noticed just how handsome your personal guard was and a warm sensation spread all over your body.
"So... tell me. What's your name? How would you like me to call you?"
Your question made him look down at you for a split second but you continued to watch him with curiosity. If he was going to always be with you, at least you could be friends?
"I am the First Officer of the Royal Guards, Jeon Jungkook. You can call me as you please, My Lady."
Jeon Jungkook.
---
"Thank you for coming with me to the city."
He bowed down at you, not saying a word. When he straightened back up he was met with the sight of you holding a small bag towards him.
"You can have them, you looked like you wanted some of them. I won't be able to finish them all anyway."
Jungkook took the bag from your hand hesitantly, his fingers brushing yours for a split second before the contact was broken.
"I appreciate your generosity, Princess. Rest well."
You smiled a little wider at him, your hands clasping in front of you.
"You rest as well, Jungkook."
With that being said you entered your room, sliding the door shut. Only when Jungkook saw that you had closed the door did he begin walking back to his own room.
---
"You have good skills but your posture can be improved."
At Jungkook's words you lifted your gaze, meeting his dark brown eyes with your own once more. He gestured towards your bow with his chin and asked, his voice gentle like a summer breeze.
"May I?"
You nodded, handing him your bow. The warmth of his fingers brushed yours and you had to bite back a smile. He crouched down and picked up the arrow that had fallen from your grasp a moment ago.
Jungkook positioned himself and you watched his every move.
"You are too tense while holding the bow, if your hold is firm but at the same time gentle it will give you stability."
You listened carefully to his explanations as your eyes were glued to him and for the first time since he became your personal guard were you able to admire him. Properly admire him.
Your gaze landed on his focused face, on how his eyes were put on the target mark and nothing else. Then, you travelled to his lips and marvelled on the way he was pulling back the arrow until it touched the corner of his lips softly. His jawline was defined as if it had been sculpted by the gods.
His broad shoulders carried years of training and you could see how his muscles could be traced even with more than one layer of clothing. His veiny hands held the bow and the arrow with expertise and you found yourself trapped in a trance in which only Jungkook existed.
He fired the arrow, hitting the target in its centre. You looked amazed at the clean shot he did and he commented, giving you back your bow.
"Would you like to try again, Princess?"
You nodded and took the bow. Jungkook walked where the rest of the arrows were and picked one up. He handed it to you and you took it softly from his grasp. You positioned the arrow and prepared yourself to shoot.
You silently gasped when you felt a large hand over your left one, the one holding the bow and it took you less than a second to realise it was Jungkook who was guiding you. You smelled his scent from behind you and felt the light pressure of his body at your back but it wasn't uncomfortable, on the contrary, you felt safe being this close to him. It was... Soothing, to say the least.
"You need to relax your hand a bit more."
Following his instructions, he smiled.
"Good, now take a deep breath. Straighten up a bit more and concentrate."
You did as you were told, closing your eyes and relishing in the comfort Jungkook provided. The warm feeling of his hand over yours was nearly overwhelming. The moment you opened your eyes again, the only thing you could focus on was the target. Letting go of the arrow, it travelled through the air with a mute noise and landed directly on the mark.
A gasp left your lips and Jungkook let go of your hand just as you turned around and looked up at him. Your smile showed pure happiness, a happiness he was responsible for and for some reason, that settled a spark of proudness in his chest.
---
"I care for you, Princess."
You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall freely down your cheeks.
"You can't."
Whispered words reached his ears. Making his heart shake with the need to hold you, promise you that it was going to be alright.
"But I do."
You opened your eyes, looking at Jungkook through blurry vision. His eyes were filled with tears and you felt an ache in your heart at the sight of his tears.
"You weren't supposed to. You were only meant to protect me, Jungkook. That's it, nothing else."
He sighed, his eyes lowering to your trembling hands resting on your lap. He had a sudden urge to hold them. To hold you. To comfort you.
"I know. Love is blind, Princess. No-one gets to choose."
---
Your eyes were locked with his, not daring to break the eye contact that was grounding your thoughts, in a way at least.
"I'm begging you to put yourself in my shoes, it is not correct for me to write to you in such a way. Your fiancé is in the palace and you could get in trouble if someone finds out."
The way he said "you could get in trouble" not "me", not "we". It was you who he was worried about. His heart feared for you and the fact of such care brought tears to your eyes.
"It is not appropriate, Your Highness."
He bowed slightly at you, a lump forming in your throat as realisation hit you. You were losing him. You were losing the only man who could ever own your heart. The man you cared for over everyone else. The man you loved. You were losing your Jungkook but, was he really yours to begin with?
You could never claim yourself as his so no, he wasn't yours. He wasn't yours to love and care, he wasn't yours to be with you out of what was needed to be.
You took a deep breath, holding your head high and swallowing the lump in your throat. You were never going to say you loved him, you weren't going to put yourself in such pain. You didn't want his pity. The misery it'd come afterwards.
"You are right,"
This time, Jungkook flinched at your tone. Your words were void of any emotion, a sound that he used to know was as warm like the summer days felt now cold like winter.
"it is not right for us to write to each other. It will not happen again."
Even though that was what his mind desired for you to say, his heart hurt at your words. As if someone had just stabbed him directly in the heart. Your words had such an impact on him. Not because you were the Crown Princess but because he loved you. He loved you with all his body, soul and mind. He loved you more than love itself. But he knew the cruel reality. Jungkook knew that you both could never be together.
---
"Yes. You?"
He nodded. Not hearing the commotion from before. The intruders had been defeated by the remaining palace guards. He could hear Yoongi talking to the king about investigating the bloodbath that had just occurred in the throne room.
Jungkook looked down at you. The hand that once rested on your shoulder travelled down your arm until his fingers locked with yours, holding your hand and giving it a firm squeeze in reassurance.
But the moment was short-lived. The moment in which you lost yourself in his dark orbs and relished in the feeling of his touch as innocent and reassuring as was to hold your hand.
You saw, in a matter of milliseconds how his eyes shifted from you to something standing behind you. His sword clanked to the floor and his hand left yours, leaving it cold once more. You suddenly found yourself in his arms as he twisted you both. Being him who's back faced the entrance way.
You gasped at the motion. But nothing could have been worse than the pained groan he let out a mere second after he spun you around.
Tears gathered in your eyes when you saw one of the remaining intruders holding a bow, pointing it at you. Your eyes widened when you saw an arrow had pierced him on the back.
"Jungkook!"
He began to slump forward and you did your best to ease his fall. The hand that held the bow you had used to defend yourself clattered to the floor as you knelt on the ground, while Jungkook nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck.
Jimin, who stood next to the entrance way, had seen everything unfold before his eyes. He was quick to run towards the last intruder and kill him with his own sword before he turned back to you and watched how you held Jungkook in your embrace.
"Jungkook! Stay awake, you have to stay awake! Do you hear me? Jungkook!"
---
âI just remembered,â
He stood up, his hands leaving your grasp and you felt them cool down without the warmth of Jungkookâs large hands over your own. Your gaze followed him while he searched in one of his drawers until he pulled something out and walked back to you.Â
âI made you something for your birthday but with everything that happened, I never got the chance to give it to you.â
You were glad you were sitting, if not, you would have probably fainted with the amount of love you had for this man. Had he really made you something despite the terms you were in before the engagement ceremony? Did he really love you that much?
Of course he did.Â
When Jungkook loved, he loved with all his heart. And right now, you were the owner of that heart of his. He gave it to you without a second thought and his little actions kept proving it to you over and over again. He grabbed your left wrist and you looked down, watching as he tied a red braided bracelet around your skin. He tightened it with the perfect amount of force, tight enough for it to not fall but not that strong that it would hurt your precious skin.Â
âDo you like it?â
You couldnât take your eyes off his gift. It was a beautifully braided bracelet with small pearls in it.Â
âItâs perfect.â
You whispered. Afraid that if you spoke any louder the moment would be ruined. His heart skipped a beat with your words.
âNo-one has ever given me such a beautiful gift. Thank you, Jungkook.â
He scratched the back of his neck, clearing his throat and looking away. But you were having none of that so you, once more, grabbed his hand and made him look at you. Your (e/c) eyes met his big doe ones and you said, with tears prickling at the corner of your eyes.
âThank you, Jungkook. For everything.â
He smiled, a warm smile that made butterflies go wild in your stomach.Â
âYou are very welcome, my princess.â
---
"Aren't you cold?"
That voice he enjoyed so much reached his ears, making him look up at you. He smiled. Shutting the book as his arm rested next to him. Your feet crunched the snow below as you made your way towards him.
"Not really, princess. I kept myself busy."
You smiled. Looking up at him as your hands clasped themselves in front of you.
"Aren't you cold, Your Highness?"
His voiced concern made your heart flutter. You feared he could hear just how fast your heart was beating inside your chest.
"No, I just came from taking a walk with the Crown Prince."
Jungkook kept his gaze on you yet you were aware how something flashed in his eyes at the mention of your future husband. It was there in those dark orbs you loved to get yourself lost into, a second in which he let his emotions take control over him. Where he was vulnerable to your watchful eyes.
But it was gone as you blinked. He gave you no time to question whatever you had seen in his gaze as he asked you next.
"Are you ready for your wedding day?"
The atmosphere turned sombre. As if clouds had hidden the sun of a summer day during tea time. Soft snowflakes began falling from the darkening skies in a soft motion. Delicately even.
"You know I'm not. How could I?"
The smile that once adorned Jungkook's handsome features was now gone. A sad look covered his eyes.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that."
You took a deep breath. The little bubble of happiness and freedom he provided was now popped and you were brought to the harsh reality. You didn't say anything but you could feel his eyes on you as the both of you walked slowly through your private gardens.
The playful and innocent mood like a summer breeze had been clouded by the cold winds of winter. Of reality.
---
"You came."
You breathed out. Not really believing he was standing there, in front of you when you were literally getting married tomorrow.
"You called."
Jungkook answered. A fond smile was painted over his pink lips. His eyes twinkled with happiness upon seeing you. His hand reached forward in an unconscious manner. But he paused his motion before his palm graced your cheeks with his loving touch.
He lowered his arm and cleared his throat. Speaking once more to break the silence that fell between you two.
"I will not ask how you managed to send that note to me, Princess."
You let out a short laugh, blessing his ears with such a pure sound. A melody his heart cherished more than life itself.
"I have my ways, Officer Jeon."
He snorted at that, his frame relaxing in your presence as he leaned his side to the tree. His eyes never leave your own.
"Can't you call me by my name, Jungkook? Just once?"
Your plea made his eyes harden. You asked for the impossible but you desired more than oxygen to hear your name in his voice. That sweet voice that lived in your mind rent-free. That would console you in your memories when you were sad and would bring a smile upon your face in the most random times of the day.
"I cannot, Your Highness. It is against His Majesty's order to address you improperly."
You frowned.
"Even if I am asking you that?"
He sighed. A hand running though his dark hair. How you wished you could run your own hands through his locks. You could bet on your life they were as soft as cotton.
"I can't, princess. I'm sorry."
Silence stretched between you both. Somehow, the air felt colder, breathing got more challenging upon your rejected request.
"Why did you want to see me? Did you miss me that much?"
Jungkook said, trying to lighten the mood. A playful smirk over his lips. You looked up at him, your eyes as transparent as the lake's water; revealing your soul.
"I don't know if you'll want to speak to me after I say what's been on my mind for the last two days."
He lifted an eyebrow at your response. Curiosity got the best of him as he took a step away from the tree, now standing fully in front of you. The soft snow continues to dance around you.
"It can't be that bad, now can it? Just tell me, Princess."
You took a deep breath, your pulse quickening. This was it. The opportunity to speak your mind. To reveal your most intimate desire to him.
"I don't want to get married, Jungkook. I don't want to marry the Crown Prince. Jimin is worthy of the throne but... I don't love him."
He remained silent. His eyes turned from playful to serious the moment you mentioned your marriage. And he listened. He listened with all his attention to each word that left your lips.
"I can't marry a man I don't love. I want... I want to be with you. It is you who I want to marry, to spend the rest of my time with. Only you can make me happy, Jungkook and it breaks my heart every time I am reminded you won't be at the other end of the altar tomorrow."
Tears began to cloud your vision. But you tried to blink them back. This was what you had been trying to say to him. Yet your most desired thing in the word was still to get revealed.
"I want to leave, I want to leave this place, Kookie. I don't want to be a princess if it means I cannot be yours entirely. I burn for you, in every extent of the word. I cannot breathe when you are not near, I cannot think when I cannot see you close to me. You are everything to me."
A lump began forming in his throat. He felt exactly the same. Jungkook was glad you spoke of this first, you revealed your soul to him, your thoughts, your heart. You needed him. You lived with him, for him. It'd be a pointless life if you couldn't share it with him, he saw that now.
But the surprise when he heard you next couldn't be hidden even if he had wished to do so.
"I want to run away with you, Jungkook. "
---
"What are you doing outside at this hour, Jungkook?"
He untangled his hands from behind him and let them rest by his side, his eyes never leaving yours. Not knowing how his gaze alone was enough to make your heart thump wildly inside you.
"I couldn't sleep. I'll assume you are here because of the same reason."
You nodded, he took a step forward and your breath hitched in your throat. The action of inhaling was already painful as the air was cold, as cold as your neglected heart. Was he really going to take the risk of being this close to you? Another step. Perhaps he was. Then another. He certainly was.
It wasn't until he stood so close to you that you could feel his warm breath dust over your cold cheeks that you silently gasped and took a step back on instinct.
If anyone saw you both, there'd be problems. You didn't want that, not for Jungkook at least.
"And because I missed you. I had to see you. You do not only own this kingdom, you own my heart too and I couldn't live another day without seeing you, my Queen. For you are the one who rules my heart and soul."
You savoured the way his sweet words sprinkled your sour soul with sugar. It was delicious. To think that you were his, that he loved you, that he thought of you, dreamed of you. That he wanted you, perhaps even more strongly than how you wanted him.
You allowed yourself to drown in his sweet words. If only for a moment. Just a moment. A minute. A second would suffice. You didn't ask for more. You didn't want more. The only thing that you needed was his love and he gave it to you on a silver tray.
"Do you really want me that much?"
He nearly flinched at the way your voice was so soft, delicate even. Carrying emotions that were only reflected in your eyes.
"I want you with every fibre of my body and I can't stop thinking about that day. The day when you wanted to leave this place, I only want you to know that if the circumstances had been different, I would have escaped with you but taking you with me only meant death. I would rather die every day for not having you by my side than being the reason for your demise. I love you too much to do that to you."
You didn't realise you were crying until he reached his hand to wipe the tears but you took a step back. Hurt flashed in his eyes and that alone was enough for more tears to roll down your cheeks.
"You can't touch me, Jungkook. Not without the King's permission. Not even in an innocent way."
Your mumbled words reached his ears and he lowered his hand, he clenched it in a tight fist by his side but you didn't notice. Not when your eyes were glued to his own.
"And I understand why you didn't run away with me. I love you too much to get you killed. I'm so sorry I even proposed it on the first place."
His own eyes reflected the sadness in his soul in the form of tears. They glistened under the moonlight, little tears that he refused to let go; to set free.
"Do you really want me that much?"
A question you had already asked. A question he had already answered.
"Do you really want me that much, Jungkook? Even when I am another man's woman?"
He had to physically hold himself back so as to not take another step towards you. It pained him. His feet ached. His heart ached. It was painful to have you so close yet so far away at the same time yet he knew it had been like that since those warm summer days. Since the very beginning of the forbidden love story you developed with your royal guard.
Even when I am another man's woman...
Those words would repeat themselves in his head until the end of his days. A tear rolled down Jungkook's cheek, the chilly air hitting him and making him shiver.
You weren't his. Not anymore. You had never been his. At least not in this lifetime.
"You could never be tainted for me. You are and will always be perfect to hold my heart in your hands. And in our next life you will be mine, and if not in our next one or our next one after that. "
---
"Congratulations, Your Majesty."
Your steps halted when you heard his voice. A big banquet was held to announce your pregnancy to the village. Your father had come to bless you himself, he even told you he'd be staying during the last trimester of the pregnancy as he didn't want to miss the moment his grandchild were to be born.
You could only smile at that thought. But a gulp in your throat upon hearing that voice dissipated the thought, like fog when the sun came out. You turned around, eyes meeting with Jungkook's dark orbs.
A soft smile graced your lips yet he noticed how it didn't reach your eyes.
"Thank you, Jungkook."
There were so many things unsaid between you both. But have words ever been enough? He could see the sadness in your soul, the remorse, the longing and the love that existed in you. How Jungkook wished to go back to those summer days when everything was perfect, when you were happy along with him. When there existed no such barrier between you two of you being married to another man.
You could see it too, how his posture was tense, his eyes sharp with swirling storms of emotions in his dark gaze. You felt the yearning, the pain, the heartbreak from his part. And it crushed your heart even more for you knew he loved you but Jungkook couldn't step closer to you. Literally and figuratively.
He didn't know what else to say, all the courage he had managed to gather in the ceremony was gone now. Leaving him standing before you. His Queen; owner of his heart.
"I do not wish for this encounter to be like the last one, my queen. I only hope that you find the happiness you deserve for I cannot express how proud I am of you. Your child will resemble you in many ways, I am sure of it."
You wanted to run to him, hold his hand and wipe the tears that threatened to escape his eyes. But you could not. Dare not step such boundaries for his sake.
"You must find your happiness too, Jungkook. Live your life and live it right so that we can meet in our next lifetime."
---
A sharp pain made you gasp as your knees hit the floor, your dress puffing out around you. Jungkook was by your side the next second, concern was written all over his face while worry filled his eyes.
"Your Majesty, what's wrong? Please, talk to me."
You took a deep breath between your gasps and whimpers. Your hand grabbed his in your pain-induced mind, trying to ground yourself onto something, someone.
"I-It hurts... Jungkook, it h-hurts."
Your water broke the next second but you felt as if there was something wrong, this was not how a natural birth was supposed to start.
"Please... something's wrong. It- it hurts so much."
Tears gathered in your eyes as you tried to suppress the scream that threatened to escape your throat. You felt him let go of your hand, positioning his arms beneath your kneeling figure only to be lifted by him the next second.
Your arms circled his neck on instinct as you curled yourself in his hold. Jungkook began walking back to the palace at a fast pace, the weight of your body grounded his mind while at the same time numbed his senses. If you hadn't been in so much pain at that moment you would have noticed how his hands were trembling.
"Hold on, my Queen. You'll be fine, I'm here. It's alright."
He cradled you against his chest firmly, not wanting to let you go ever again now that you were in his arms. His heart feared for your safety, you were only eight months pregnant by now, he knew the risks of pregnancy and Jungkook knew he wouldn't be able to live if something were to happen to you.
Tears soaked his robes, your hand fisted his collar. Your small whimpers were like poisonous needles piercing his heart. It hurt. It pained him to see you in so much distress.
"Hold on, love. Please."
---
"You called for me, Your Majesty."
He bowed down at you and you sighed, realising how much you hated when he bowed at you when you'd go on your knees with only a word falling from his lips. He had that power over you. That way to command you. To make you feel.
"Jungkook."
The man before you lifted his gaze and your eyes met his once more. Had it been within any other circumstances, you'd have smiled and ran toward him. How you wish you could embrace him, how you wish you could kiss him and declare your love for him. How you wish you could love him freely.
You were sitting between blankets and cushions, taking rest after the hard labour. The prince lied next to you as he slept soundly while being wrapped up in luxurious fabric.
"I haven't seen you in a while."
He smiled. Not that smile that reached his eyes or that warmed your insides. It made you shiver with the sadness within it. Like a cold breeze on a winter day.
"I was told you were to rest, my Queen. Captain Min ordered me to give you some space, at least until you are feeling better."
You smiled, gesturing for him to sit in front of you, which he did. A moment of silence passed between you both. Your gaze lingered on his handsome features, drawing a map of him in your mind.
"I missed you."
He sighed at your whispered confession. Those words clawed at his heart with nothing but a heavy guilt that existed within him.
"My Queen... please."
You took a deep breath at his pleading, his begging. You looked aside as your heart constricted in your chest.
"Forgive me."
He looked at you with eyes full of emotions you weren't quick enough to grasp. Why must love hurt so much? Jungkook shifted his gaze from your figure, focusing on the little bundle where the prince, your son, slept peacefully.
"Congratulations on your baby. May prince Ha-joon live a long and happy life with his family."
---
"Kook!"
Ha-joon had said. Your hands felt cold against the warm cup, your soul froze when you looked up. There he was. Jeon Jungkook. You hadn't seen him in days. And before today there were only small peaks here and there followed by short greetings.
Jungkook turned to look at you, your eyes met his from across the garden. You felt your breath hitch in your throat at the mere sight of him. Your hands trembled around the cup, forcing you to put it away.
He bowed down at you slowly yet his eyes never left yours. Emotions invaded your body as you stood up from your chair. Hoseok noticed your actions and sat up, Ha-joon left his side and ran with his little legs where Jungkook was.
Your royal guard smiled down at your son and Hoseok stood up from the ground, walking the steps to where you stood.
"Your Majesty, are you alright? You look pale, should I walk you to your chambers?"
But you shook your head, your eyes following Jungkook's figure as he approached you with Ha-joon by his side. The little prince was telling him something that you couldn't hear and he smiled widely. Flashed him that bunny smile you loved so much and had missed just as fiercely.
Jungkook bowed down at you once he stood in front of you. Ha-joon looked up at the man next to him and mimicked his actions. Your heart clenched at the sight. Having the man you loved and your child who was your husband's son before you was too much for your heart.
It clenched inside you, it burned, it ached.
"Your Majesty."
Jungkook acknowledged you. You nodded softly at him and he rose to his full height. Ha-joon doing the same.
"Kook! Play, together."
Hoseok watched the interaction from where he stood. His own heart clenched at the sight of your hidden pain. You have always been an open book for your best friend. You had been able to hide your love from your father, even from your husband but not from Hoseok. He had known you his entire life. He knew you, he knew the core of your heart. He knew your unspoken words. He knew.
"Only if the queen allows it, my prince."
Jungkook's eyes found yours once more. A sad smile painted his lips. Ha-joon was a clear resemblance of you but also of his father and Jungkook was reminded once more of what he had lost the day you married Jimin. Of that dream that he wished would become his reality was instead a mountain of ashes. Of burnt dreams and wishes.
You smiled tightly at the pair in front of you, not wanting to deny sweet Ha-joon of his free days and innocent happiness.
"You may play, but please be careful."
---
"Jungkook."
His name coming from your lips was the sweetest melody he has ever heard. He had missed it. He had missed you. His eyes locked with yours and he nearly gasped at the sight of you laying on the soft bedding, your skin was paler than usual, your eyes were tired and your body was beyond weakened.
"Your Majesty."
He acknowledged you. Bowing softly at you without tearing his gaze from you. He saw you shift in your position, laying on your left side so you could see him properly. You smiled and in an instant his dark world was lightened by your existence.Â
"Come closer, Jungkook. Come here."
Your hand extended towards him as if trying to reach him. He couldn't hold himself back any longer upon your innocent request as his legs moved with a mind of their own. Nearly jumping until he was kneeling by your side, his hand holding yours ever so softly.
âI heard⊠I heard that you are sick, my Queen. Is it true?â
Jungkook asked almost shyly. Not meeting your eyes as his own gaze was fixed on your joined hands.Â
âIt is.â
He sighed at your response. Feeling how his heart clenched within him. Tears watered his dark eyes and a lump grew in your throat at the sight of his sadness.Â
âDonât cry, Jungkook. Donât waste your tears over me.â
He looked up at you, his expression hurt with your words. A frown was between his brows, eyes watered with his materialised sadness and a soul that he could no longer carry on his own.Â
âHow can you say that to me? I am dying with you, my Queen. Only you are capable of causing me the greatest pain yet it is you who eradicates it as well.â
You squeezed his hand, feeling your chest aching. Your mind was shutting down as you gazed at the man you loved with your entire being.Â
âForgive me.â
He shook his head, refusing to let his tears roll down his cheeks as his eyes roamed over your face as if trying to memorise all your little details in his mind.Â
âIt is I who should beg for forgiveness. I cannot protect you from this, I have failed you. I cannot prevent you from leaving me.â
A tear left the corner of your eye as you looked at him with so many unsaid things and raging emotions you were never able to pour out. It was too much. Too much love. Too much longing. Too much sadness. Too much anger. Your heart couldnât take it any more.
âMaybe you canât make me stay, but you gave me the opportunity of knowing what it was to love. Even when we couldnât be together in the end, I still love you. I will always love you, Jungkook. In each⊠in each lifetime.â
â
A choked gasp left your lips as the memory dissipated from your mind like morning fog during a summer day. You didn't even realise you were crying until you sniffled and your hand came up to your face and your skin was wet with your own liquid sadness.
What kind of dream was this? What kind of cruelty had fate bestowed upon you? What kind of crime did you commit to feel this pain? You had loved, you had been loved only for it to melt like ice in those warm summer days when everything was perfect. You couldn't help the sob that escaped your lips as the realisation hit you:
You were the queen of the portrait. A representation of your old soul trapped in your past life as the unfortunate lover.
It wasn't a dream. It was a memory. Your memories from your past life and that love you were once denied to have.Â
Hoseok was nearing the hall of ancient artefacts when his phone rang and he stopped in his tracks. Jungkook halted beside him and waited in silence.
"I'm sorry, I have to take this. I left Miss (y/n) at the end of this hall. You shouldn't have difficulty finding her."
Jungkook bowed softly, his warm eyes meeting the ones of Hoseok as he spoke in his professional voice once more.
"Don't worry, Mr. Jung. I'll do my best to assist her."
Hoseok nodded before he accepted the call and walked away, leaving Jungkook to sigh to himself before he ventured on the journey of finding the eccentric politician's daughter.
He walked among the centuries of history around him, through the halls that held art and a lost empire through time. Something about his line of work had always intrigued him. It made him wonder just how insignificant life was. Years, decades and centuries of history, of people that once walked on this Earth were now kept in glass boxes, a strange way of trying to preserve what should have died years ago.
It made him think about all the lives, all the deaths, all the heartbreaks from the past. All those untold stories buried in time. In every aspect, in every lifetime, in every way. It was simply melancholic to acknowledge all the history around him.
Jungkook walked, allowing his mind to wander as he thought of the beautiful politician's daughter. He thought of the times he had seen her, seen you in important events. Always looking so beautiful, always captivating the media. Always perfect, always next to your powerful father.
He reached the end of the hall but there was no sight of you. A sudden tightness gripped his heart fiercely, as if he were in pain, as if someone clutched his heart in its claws and it bled out.
As if on instinct, Jungkook walked to the royal hall. His feet moved on their own, his mind spiralled with all kinds of thoughts. With dream-like memories that he would have sworn were from one of those historical dramas he knew were popular among the hopeless romantics.
The sound of a sob echoed over the walls and it was as painful as being stabbed on the heart. He turned around with urgency only to spot you looking at a painting, your back was facing him while your left hand covered your mouth.
"Miss (y/n)?"
Your eyes widened when you heard that voice. That voice that was lost in your thoughts. That voice that was from your forgotten memories. That same voice that had broken your heart was now stitching it back together.
You turned around, your misty eyes met his in a dance of emotions you were, for once, able to dance along. Pink petals from the cherry blossoms in the garden behind fell slowly and when your eyes locked with Jungkook's he saw it as well.
He saw everything. All those memories, all those experiences. He saw his love. His sadness. His life. His reason for living. His flower. His darling. All in ancient history.
Jungkook saw his past life with you.
Like a movie in front of his eyes. A dream he wanted to reach. A memory he had promised to not forget but time was cruel and it was buried in the depths of his soul.
"Jungkook? It's you, isn't it?"
Your voice brought him back from his forgotten memories. He looked at you with a familiarity and a strangeness in his eyes. It was enough to make tears roll down your cheeks while his own eyes watered at the impossible sight before him.
"...princess? H-how?...."
You sobbed and he walked toward you. Unable to resist the sight of your tears. Perhaps this was the first time he met you in this lifetime but your souls have been in love for centuries. Your heart hadn't changed, his feelings remained the same. Love cannot be killed, not even by death.
He stood at arms length, eyes gazing down at you with the urge to know the truth. To know if you were that missing piece in his life. To know if this lifetime was worth-living.
"You found me. You said you'd find me."
Was this a dream? Was this a false memory? Was this real? He deeply needed for it to be real. Jungkook felt whole when he looked down at you. As if you were the missing piece for this puzzle called life. And you? You didn't know if he still wanted you. If Jungkook was your Jungkook. Your lost lover. Your forbidden romance. Your unfinished story.
"In every lifetime, princess."
His hand flexed next to him with the urge to touch you. To hug you and never let you go. To kiss you. To finally kiss you after all those denied moments he had before. To love you like he had dreamt long ago.
You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand and something on your wrist caught his attention. It was a subtle glimpse of a red string around your wrist and he knew, in that moment he knew.
"You still wear it huh?"
A smile appeared on your lips at the same words he had spoken to you. A long time ago. Once upon a dream. In another lifetime. And the same answer is what he got. The same words that you had replied to him. The answer to his lovely sentence.
"I never took it off."
He was referring to your red bracelet. Something you remember always having, never truly knowing how you got to possess such a beautiful item but it simply felt right to wear it. So you did, you never took it off. As if it was engraved in your skin, almost like Jungkook's name was written in your soul and his whispered love was locked away in your heart.
"Can... Can I hold you?"
There was desperation in his voice. It sounded almost bitter that it pulled on your heartstrings. You nodded almost immediately. Burning just as him to feel him once more, to touch the man you had missed for centuries. To be held by your one and only love.
You were in his arms the next second. His hands pressed you against his chest as your own circled his waist. A long lost hug. A missed love. A romance out of time. But it was a timeless love nonetheless.
Something clicked inside you once you were held by Jungkook. As if your heart had been filled with his life, as if your broken soul was stitched back with just his simple touch. As if memories had been unlocked after your skin touched his.
"I missed you. I missed you so much, queen of my heart."
His hold on you tightened and you couldn't help but bury your face in his chest. How he had wished to do this in his first lifetime. How he wished he had been able to hold you like this. How he wished he had had you before just like this.
All the pain was gone. The tears were dried by his love. His hands held your heart so softly and purely you didn't want to part from him. You couldn't. You wouldn't. You wouldn't let go of him like that once more. You weren't going to lose him again. Not after all that pain, all that heartbreak, all those tears and all that yearning. Not again. Never again.
"I missed you too. So much, so much..."
Jungkook rested his chin at the top of your head, closing his eyes as he held you softly but firmly. It made him wonder just how much time you had been robbed in your past life. He realised just how evil fate had been to break you both like that. To separate two lovers is the worst cruelty of this fallen world.
But now, those cold days are over. Winter had passed. Even after centuries of living buried in the freezing snow, warmth had finally touched his heart. The soft rays of the sun were melting his once frozen soul. Your love did that. Only with you was he able to live in warmth. Only with you existed that flame in his heart that kept him alive.
You looked up at him and he met your gaze midway. It was magical. To look at the eyes you had unknowingly missed so much. How your soul was mourning the loss of Jungkook, how your life was always grey and cold was now warm and coloured in pink. Like the petals falling behind you.
One of his hands cradled your cheek and you smiled. Your heart was beating wildly in your heart at the proximity, at the love, at the emotions that came flooding like a waterfall from the sky.
You stood on your tippy toes only to press your lips against his. It was soft, delicate. Like a spring breeze. A kiss full of love. A healing kiss. A kiss that should have happened a long time ago. Jungkook kissed you back, burning at the feeling of your soft lips against his.
He tilted his head, deepening the kiss and you sighed, tightening your grip around his waist as he poured all those long lost emotions into that kiss. A kiss he had wished he could give you centuries ago. All the love, all the yearning, all the heartbreak, all the feelings of missing you, missing your warmth, your love, your touch, your existence were poured into that kiss.
A sealed kiss of timeless love.
"Don't ever leave me again."
He whispered against your lips. voice desperate with the promise of your love. Of your devotion. Of eternity.
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Your answer was said in a soft voice, only meant for Jungkook to hear. He pressed his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes as he felt the memories slowly come back to him. During those golden summer days, rainy autumn evenings and cold winter nights. Everything about his life with you came back like a soft spring drizzle over his soul.
Perhaps fate had been cruel when he separated you from your Jungkook with death. But it now gave you the opportunity with your rightful lover. That soulmate you were destined to love since the very beginning of life.
Through life and death, only time gets in between. Through tears and pain, it is love that keeps the hope alive and through silent feelings and absent minds; it is time that keeps them together in a dance with a melody only meant for the tangled lovers to hear.
In every lifetime, in every way, in every universe and in every season. Love is stronger than death.Â
February/16/2024
~Masterpost
Please let me know your thoughts in the comments, darlings!
**I do NOT give my consent for this or any of my works to be posted or translated into any other platforms or languages.Â
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May I humbly request another Eris x reader? Autumn's Eden was so sweet and I had read it a countless amount of times already. Still with the secret mate element and something abou how she is a cat person and Eris is evidently a dog person with cat person energy
ahh I'm so glad you liked it!! đ lol as a dog person with cat person energy myself, I really feel Eris here
Bramble
Eris x Reader fluff
It was by the edge of the woods, far away from the Forest House, that you were meeting your mate in secret for time together when you were almost discovered. Eris had winnowed you to a place that was far from everyone else, where the two of you could be yourselves without anyone finding you. It was a high risk any time that you met with Eris - the both of you knew the dangers if his father or brothers discovered you, because you would not be an approved wife for him. But Eris was your mate, and it was worth any risk to be able to spend time with him, the other half of your soul.
It was a perfect afternoon, the sun shining through the crisp Autumn breeze creating the perfect weather for a picnic together. Eris had made his way on top of you, the sexual tension between you two escalating when he suddenly looked up, scanning the tree line. You could hear his brothers in the distance, apparently on a hunt as the sounds of their horsesâ hooves approached you at an alarming rate.Â
Eris was able to winnow you away just in time, burning anything you touched to eliminate your scent. After that scare, you decided that you needed to stay away from Eris as well as busier places in town for awhile until any possible suspicions died down.
After two weeks passed, you found yourself lonely. You were missing your mate, and needed someone to keep you company while you were forced to keep your distance from him. One day while buying groceries in the square, you discovered a black and white kitten trailing you down the street. Stopping at a cart to buy some fruit, you giggled at the feeling of the kitten winding its way through your legs, purring as it looked up at you.
You maneuvered your way out of the kittenâs hold, heading back to your apartment when you heard a small âmeow,â and turned to see the kitten still at your heels. You bent down to pet it, heart melting at how it purred and pushed its head further into your hand. You grabbed a blackberry from your grocery basket, holding it out to the kitten. The animal sniffed it tentatively before chomping the fruit aggressively, nicking your finger in the process. âYouâre a hungry thing, arenât you?â you asked the cat as you watched it rub against your ankle, meowing for more food. Holding out another blackberry - more careful to avoid being bitten this time - you watched the kitten devour the fruit. âI bet you could eat a whole bramble of berries.â
~~~
It was about a month later when you came home, growing concerned when you didnât see your cat, Bramble, come up to greet you as she usually did. Setting down your bags, you cautiously called out, âBramble?â Peering around the corner, you nearly wept with relief as you took in the sight of Bramble curled around Erisâs neck, purring as she licked his ear. Erisâs lip curled at the catâs show of affection, leaning away from the animal as he looked to you. You giggled at his expression - an attempt to appear annoyed by Bramble - but the mirthful look in his eyes proved otherwise.Â
You practically ran to him, carefully lifting Bramble from where she rested on Erisâs shoulders and setting her down as he pulled you in for a kiss. You could feel the passion from him, so many words unspoken as you were finally reunited with your love. Eris pulled back, his forehead resting against yours as silver lined his eyes. âIâve missed you so much, my dearest love.â You sniffled, twining your fingers in his brilliant red hair as you held him as close as you possibly could, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.
Bramble chose that moment to jump on Erisâs leg, her claws digging into his skin drawing a hiss from him as he looked down at her and sighed. He brushed your hair behind your ear, pressing a kiss to your nose as he teased, âyou couldnât have gotten a dog?â
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A Mutually Beneficial Agreement (M) ~Bang Chan | [2/3]
Pairing: Demon!Chan x AFAB.Reader
Themes: Supernatural AU | Angst | Smut | Some fluff
Word Count: ~14k | AO3
Synopsis: Your favourite demon seemed to be full of surprises, some you could more than get used to, but others that⊠you werenât sure you could get used to at all. [You can find part 1 of this story here].
Warnings: religious themes · pet names · alcohol consumption · harassment (itâs kinda mild but still yucky) · corporate bullshit · thereâs a lot of focus on the readerâs feet, but not in that way · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).
Authorâs Note: because i am incapable of being normal, hereâs a part 2 to what was supposed to be a fun little one shot.
especial thanks to @notastraykid and @decembermoonskz for reading this before anyone else and sharing their very valuable feedback with međ
Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.
< Part 1 | Part 3 >
Smut Warnings: literal monster cock · oral [F.Rec] · rimming [F.Rec] · unprotected penetration [piv] (the reader is presumed to be on birth control) · lack of aftercare (due to unforeseen events. you know i donât write my Christophers like that, but i figured i should give a warning for those of you that get triggered or feel yucky after reading something like this).
Disclaimer:Â the story presented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.
The marble wall was cool against your back, a complete contrast to the heat against your torso. A thin sheen of sweat was starting to coat your skin, enough that the friction produced between your back and the wall with each movement was starting to become uncomfortable, but, being honest, it was hard to register it. It was hard to care about it at all.
The place was cool around you, yet you were burning up. You couldnât keep your eyes open, all you could do was hold onto his shoulders, trusting him enough to not let you fall while he held you in his arms and took you wholly, right there against the wall, right here on sacred land.
There were pants and heavy breaths and quiet moans mingling with the sound of frogs croaking somewhere outside. They were always loud at this time of the night, loud enough that you could hear their symphony in here.
Plush lips were attached to your collarbone, gently nibbling and sucking on the thin skin. The attention alone easily pulled desperate whines out of your mouth, but, coupled with his calculated thrusts, it all had your mind completely melting into a puddle.
You clawed at his back, sometimes ruffling the dark feathers under your fingertips. Heâd always shiver whenever you touched him here, especially towards the base of the appendages.Â
He was so good.
He was so, so good, and you just loved him so much. More than youâd ever loved the sun.Â
You were convinced meeting him was the best thing to ever happen to you. He was warm and caring and just absolutely everything. Heâd become your everything.Â
His presence soothed you, his displays of affection made you feel full, he managed to satisfy you in ways youâd only ever dreamt of, and he simply made you feel things youâd never felt before.
How could you possibly need anything else?Â
You didnât.
You just needed him.
His pace was relentless, his tail wrapped around your thigh, just because it could, and you vaguely realised youâd been caressing one of the horns on his head along with his feathered appendages. His wings enveloped you both, shielding you from the outside world, they provided a warm, safe cocoon just for the two of you.
Against everything youâd been taught, against every single belief youâd been indoctrinated into, you simply adored him.Â
When he pulled away from your neck, you couldnât help but open your eyes. He looked at you like you were the sun. Like he adored you.Â
Staring into that gentle brown, you could feel that pool of arousal in the pit of your stomach steadily filling up, you could feel yourself falling deeper and deeper into this seemingly endless lake of lovâ
Your body jolted at the sound of your alarm.
You hated alarms. You needed them, but you always hated them. Sleep was precious to you, it let you disconnect from the world around you, it recharged you, which was exactly what you had needed before you took this nap earlier this afternoon.
Tonight was important, so of course you set up your alarm, even if you hated it. You couldnât just sleep it off and miss everything, not after weeks and weeks of planning.
As you sat up on your bed and stretched your limbs, you could feel warmth all around you. You dreamt often, several times a week since the day you gained awareness. However, you could never remember your dreams. Whenever you woke up, it seemed like that feeling of warmth was all you had left.
It almost made you feel⊠sad. Or, maybe a better word to describe the emotion you felt would be melancholy. Why you felt this way, though, you werenât sure.
No point in dwelling on it. Tonight was the big company event youâd been waiting to attend for months now. You were hoping to do some networking, to make acquaintances with some of the higher-ups, so you had to look and act your absolute best to achieve that.
A good scrubbing, and a scalding-hot shower later, you stood in front of your bed, staring at the two outfits you had splayed out on top of your duvet. A bright red dress, very short, very⊠slutty. It would certainly drive attention to yourself, which was kind of what you wanted, but would that be the type of attention you needed? Your friend had told you any attention was good attention, but was it really?
The other dress was a bit more modest. Royal blue, with the tiniest bit of sparkles sprinkled all throughout. It wasnât as short, but it had a slit that was high enough to drive attention, while also sitting low enough for it to not be too much. It was honestly your preferred option. Youâd worn it before, you knew you looked good in it, and you felt fairly comfortable wearing it.
So you did.
Eye make-up to match and a lipstick to contrast adorned your face. You started putting on your jewellery, trying on different options to make sure you wore the most suitable accessories.
As you did, the energy in your room shifted. The air got thick, in that exact way that made you dizzy, that almost made your knees buck under the pressure.
âOh? Going somewhere, pretty thing?â
Of course Chris would choose the worst possible night to appear in your bedroom⊠Of course just his presence and the sound of his voice would light up your insides like a Christmas tree.
âI amâ, you replied simply, fastening your earrings before you finally turned to look at him.
Chris sat cross-legged on your bed, barefoot, clad in that flowy, hanbok-like, silky suit he always wore. The colour matched his eyes, black, barely even reflecting light.
Placing his hands behind him, Chris leaned back and looked at you. You could feel his gaze trailing your form, from the crown of your head to the tip of your toes.
He seemed to be fixated on the silver ring youâd put on one of your toes for a moment, right before he returned his eyes to yours and offered you a smirk.
âYou look goodâ, his tail unravelled from where it'd been resting around his waist, and the tip of it started to mindlessly trace the side of his thigh.
A smile spread across your face. âYou think so?â
With a slow twirl, you offered him the full three-sixty view of your outfit. By the time you were looking at him again, his tail had fully wrapped around his thigh.
âI do. Itâs a shame that such a pretty dress will be torn to pieces soonâ.
You clicked your tongue at him disapprovingly, placing your hands on your hips. âThis was an expensive dress, you know? Unless you can replace it, I wonât give you consent to do itâ.
As the words left your mouth, a pout formed on Chrisâ lips. It honestly made him look⊠adorable. What an odd gesture for a demon to make, but you had long since stopped trying to understand his ways.
âSo itâs your work thing, huh?â Chris un-crossed his legs, letting them fall from the edge of your bed to plant his feet on the floor. While he was still leaning on his hands, with his legs spread like this, a smallâand very hornyâpart of your brain started urging you to get on your knees. But you just⊠ignored it.
It still surprised you that Chris remembered these things. You vaguely recalled telling him about this a couple of weeks ago, right before you fell asleep after hours and hours of letting him have his way with you. Sometimes, the things he remembered about you made you wonder what he did when he wasnât here. Did he just have a supernatural photographic memory, or did he truly care? You never really got the courage to askâŠ
âMm. Tonightâs the big eventâ, you briefly looked at the clock on your bedside table. You had to leave soon, otherwise you might get stuck in traffic, which could possibly ruin your plans for the night.
Chris just hummed in acknowledgement, but he didnât say anything else. You didnât, either. You simply walked towards your bed, and, ignoring that sudden urge to straddle him and settle yourself on his lap, you sat down next to him before you reached for your heels.
The heels matched your jewellery, they werenât necessarily comfortable, but they certainly went well with this dress. You slipped one of them on, and just before you started wrapping the long straps around your heel, Chris moved.
âLet meâ, he mumbled, kneeling in front of you and taking the straps out of your hands.
It was honestly insane how the mere contact of his fingers on yours made your heart skip a beat. You supposed it made sense, considering who he was, or, more accurately, what he was, considering what you often did togetherâŠÂ
Slowly, gently, Chris started wrapping the straps around your heel, making his way up your leg. You just looked at him, alternating your focus between the horns protruding from his skull, to the features of his face, and to his hands diligently working your heels.
âTonight I might not be⊠I might not have enough energy for, uh⊠Yâknowâ, for you to fuck me until I canât remember my name, wouldâve been an accurate statement, but you honestly felt like saying it out loud would trigger something. It wouldnât have been the first time you missed an appointment you had because youâd said something similarâŠ
Chris chuckled, finally tying a knot to keep the straps in place just below your knee. Thankfully, heâd used enough pressure for them to be secure around your leg, but not enough to cut your circulation.Â
His attention shifted to the other leg. Holding your ankle, he eased the matching heel on your foot before he started repeating the motions with the straps of this one.Â
Chris was working very slowly. Almost as if he was dragging out the momentâŠ
You realised he was, in fact, stalling, the moment you felt his lips on your shin. Saliva started pooling in your mouth at the sight and the feel of his lips on your skin. His eyes were closed, but he was somehow still performing his task with ease, all as he pressed lingering kisses up your shin, until he reached your knee.
For a moment, your subconscious was screaming at you, telling you to open your legs and let him ease himself right in between them, but, not only could you not let that happen right now, it also didnât seem like that was Chrisâ goal. On the contrary, his lips stopped at your knee, right before he opened his eyes and looked up at you.
If you looked hard enough, you couldâve sworn you could see stars swimming in the endless darkness that were his eyes.
âItâs okay, sweetheartâ, his lips brushed against your skin with every word, and, somehow, that was the moment you started to feel your cheeks heating up. âIâll be honest, itâs not like Iâm thrilled about it, especially not after seeing you like this, all dolled up⊠But itâs fine. Youâve got your own life to live, after allâ.
A gentle smile made its way to his face. It seemed to contrast with his overall look, with his horns and the void in his eyes and just his aura in general⊠But, somehow, it still felt genuine. It always did with Chris.
You swallowed the saliva that had pooled in your mouth, and it wasnât until Chris looked away from your face to focus on tying the straps of your heel, that you were finally able to look away from him to check the clock.
You sighed. âI have to goâ.
With one final kiss to your shin, Chris finally let go of your leg and stood up from the floor. He offered his hand to you, you simply took it and let him pull you up from the bed before his arm wrapped around your waist and his tail found your thigh.Â
You held your breath in anticipation, closing your eyes only when his free hand found your cheek.Â
You felt his plush lips on your forehead, and, for a moment, you couldâve sworn you had started trembling.
Chris was so warm. His closeness made you dizzy, the way his tail tightened on your thigh made your mind wander, it made you remember what it could do, what he could do to youâŠÂ
Before you knew it, your hands were buried in his hair, and your lips were on his, savouring the taste of him on your tongue. Sweet, but not overly so. Just perfect, like the flavour had been crafted specifically to your own tastes. Chrisâ hold on your body tightened, and the moment his tongue made contact with your lips you simply let him in, because why wouldnât you?Â
You figured a small treat couldnât hurt⊠As long as you didnât let him get you out of your dress, as long as you managed to pull yourself away from him within the next five minutes, it should be fine. You deserved this much.
A few moments passed. Moments where all you could register was both halves of his tongue and his lips and his warmth. But then he pulled away from your lips. You mindlessly chased after him, because you just wanted more. You really, really deserved it. You needed it.
Chris just pulled back a bit more, fixing his eyes on your lips before he pressed his thumb to your lower lip. He swiped over the plump, moist flesh, and his eyebrows furrowed the tiniest bit.
âThis is some good-ass lipstick. Not even a single smudgeâŠâ
He sounded genuinely annoyed by it, and it honestly made you chuckle. âMaybe they should add demon-proof as a selling pointâ.
Chris chuckled at that. With a shake of his head, he returned his gaze to your eyes, just as he pushed his thumb inside your mouth. You gladly accepted it, gently sucking it further in as you slowly ran your tongue over the pad of it.Â
âIâll drop by later to check in on you anyway, alright?â
You hummed in agreement, letting his thumb fall out of your mouth. He could drop by at any time, regardless of how inconvenient it could be. Honestly, you wanted him to drop by⊠You just hoped you did have enough energy left later in the evening.
Chris opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he was going to say died on his tongue, cut off by the shrill of one of your trillion alarms resonating in your bedroom.Â
With a deep breath, you finally let go of him. His tail loosened from where itâd been holding onto your thigh, finally moving away from you completely as you started to walk away. It left the faint imprint of snakeskin behind, and the area started to redden as well. Quite noticeably, if you might add.
You werenât sure if you were mad about it or not.
With one final look at yourself in the mirror to fix your hair and make sure your make-up had, in fact, not smudged, you finally took your clutch from where youâd placed it on your dresser hours ago.Â
âIâll see you later, thenâ, was the last thing you told Chris before you left your room, trying to ignore the oddâand completely out of placeâempty feeling that started to settle in the pit of your stomach.
Two hours into the event were enough to remind you why you usually didnât attend these things. Yes, youâd managed to make yourself known to some important people, youâd done exactly what you came here to do, but you were starting to wonder if it had been worth the hassle at all.
Your lower back was screaming at you, your feet ached, and suddenly sitting at the bar and drinking a few cocktails sounded like the only possible thing that could keep you from ripping your jewellery and heels off of your body. The music blaring through the speakers didnât help one bit, it seemed like happy hour had started, and people were going absolutely crazy on the dancefloor.
Good for them.
Not good for your overstimulated senses, though.Â
You hoped that at the very least, the next time you applied for a higher position, you wouldnât have to go through so many hoops to get it. You were good at your job, better than some of the people in power in this company, but ultimately, knowing someone important would always give you the upper hand.
It was detrimental to your financial independence. More money meant less time paying that debt that seemed to always be looming over your head. If only your mother hadnât done what she did, maybe you wouldnât have to be working here at allâŠ
âCan I offer you a drink, pretty thing?â
You felt your skin crawl at the voice resonating next to you. Turning your head, you found your sleazy co-worker deep into your personal space. He reeked of alcohol and tobacco, and you honestly hated it.
You hated him in general. He was always inappropriate, misogynistic, and condescending. Unfortunately, the man was kind of smart, as in, there was no physical proof of his unacceptable behaviour, which was exactly why Human Resources never took you seriously when you reported him.
Swaying the glass in your hand the tiniest bit, you silently let him know you already had a drink. You hoped heâd take the hint, but clearly, he didnât. He stood over you, with that disgusting smile on his face, waiting for your answer.
âNo, thank you. Iâm drinking something alreadyâ, you took a sip of your drink, trying to ignore his existence altogether.
âWhat about a dance? Mm?â He placed his clammy hand on your bare shoulder. God, you wanted it gone immediately. âIâm sure this lovely dress youâre wearing would look great on the dancefloorâ.
You were two seconds away from throwing your drink at him. For a brief moment, you debated on doing it. On one hand, youâd give him a very assertive message, maybe it would stop him from making advances at you altogether. But, on the other hand, thatâd cause a scene, and you werenât sure you were ready for that kind of attention. It could jeopardise the good impressions youâd made tonightâŠ
âAh, there you are. Everything alright, sweetheart?â
Your eyes widened in shock, and your head snapped in the direction of the familiar voice. The shock wasnât only due to his presence, it wouldnât have been the first time that Chris randomly popped up around you when you were out and about, but, usually, he appeared only for you to see.Â
Looking at him right now, it was clear that this wasnât one of those cases.Â
His hand found the small of your back, the gentle warmth emanating from his palm was a complete contrast to the stuffy feeling of your co-workerâs hand on your shoulder. Even if Chris looked different, there was no denying who he was, there was just no doubt in your mind. You could feel the familiar feeling of butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you stared at him, even when he looked this⊠normal.
There were no horns on his head, and his hair had been straightened. There was no tail dragging behind him, and, most shockingly, there was no darkness in his eyes, they were just⊠brown. Regular brown eyes, like any other man could have.
But⊠Chris wasnât any other man.
âWho the hell are you?â After giving Chris a once over, and after noticing the undeniable proximity he had to you, your co-worker removed his hand from your body, but not without letting his fingertips graze your skin as he did.
The motion was repulsive, like the rest of him was. It had you almost gagging, but you tried your best to contain yourself, you didnât particularly feel like displaying any emotion that could be used against you. Because, even if he was the harasser, you knew he was more than capable of turning any blame on you.
Chris offered the man a friendly smile, one that, quite honestly, didnât really reach his eyes. âOh, Iâm just the plus oneâ, he gestured to you with his head, moving his hand from the small of your back to instead wrap his arm around your waist.
Youâd learnt with time that Chris was a very⊠territorial creature. You supposed it made sense that heâd consider you part of said territory, all things considered.
âIâI didnât know you had a boyfriendâ, your co-worker looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, it almost felt like he was reprimanding you, like he was implying you had somehow cheated on him for having a âboyfriendâ.
Chris wasnât your boyfriend, though. He was⊠He definitely was⊠Well, he was someone in your life, that much was certain.
Before you could even speak, Chris had opened his mouth. âWe like to keep things private, and between friends onlyâ.
Your co-worker just scoffed, mumbling something to himself. Chris took the opportunity to speak again. âFancy a drink? What do you like? Vodka? Whiskey?â
The man was clearly taken aback, but he answered anyway. âRumâ.
âRum it is, thenâ, Chris signalled the bartender and asked for two glasses of rum, all without removing his arm from your body. If anything, he seemed to be getting even closer to you.
You almost wanted to roll your eyes. What an absurd exchange this all was⊠Youâd never been too fond of overprotective men getting into your business, but, youâd have to admit⊠It felt a bit different when that overprotection came from someone like Chris.
They both started talking about nonsensical things. Topics you werenât really interested in. You honestly preferred for it to be this way, youâd come to the bar to try and enjoy some peace, after all. At least, the music had started to lower in volume, and the songs being played seemed to be getting slower and calmer as the minutes went by.
When the bartender came back with Chrisâ order, the demon finally let go of your waist so he could take both glasses in his hands. You blinked a bit as you watched him give one of the glasses to your co-worker. For a moment, you couldâve sworn the liquid had turnt much darker than the one in Chrisâ glass.
You didnât have enough time to focus on it too much, though. Your co-worker downed the rum in one ungracious gulp, making you scrunch your nose in distaste.Â
Chris gave you a small smile before he returned his eyes to the man in front of you both, taking a single sip of his drink. His eyes were different than usual, but you could see mischief dancing in them.
For a moment, you wished his attention was on you again, instead of that idiot stumbling in front of you.
After a few more words that you didnât quite hear, your co-worker finally said his goodbyes.
Good fucking riddanceâŠÂ
The friendly mask crumbled off of Chrisâ face as soon as the man started to walk away. He stared daggers at his back until he got lost in the sea of people. You supposed you shared the sentiment, but that didnât really make any of this make one bit of sense.
âDone showing your feathers, you all-mighty peacock?â You couldnât help but say before you brought your glass to your lips to take a sip.
Chrisâ eyes returned to yours, chuckling as he brought his hand to your shoulder, to place it right where your co-worker had earlier. Your bodyâs reaction was completely different this time around, though. A shiver threatened to rush up your spine, but not out of disgust. Quite the opposite, actually.
âWhat? You know very well this doesnât even come close to me showing my feathersâ, Chrisâ fingers found your ear, he caressed your earlobe with his thumb and index finger, further agitating the flying critters in your belly. âBesides, that would imply I felt threatened by that guy. If anything, his vibe just pissed me offâ.Â
âFair enoughâ, you shrugged, drinking what was left of your cocktail before you settled the glass on the bar. âNow, enlighten me, please. Why the hell are you here?â
Chris looked at you for a few seconds, before a smile spread on his lips. âDance with me and Iâll tell youâ.
Your eyes went wide in surprise. It seemed like that was Chrisâ mission tonight, to completely surprise you.Â
The music had finally settled to slower rhythms, you glanced at the dancefloor, only to find couples dancing to the intimate tunes. It was nowhere near as packed as itâd been before you came to the bar, but there were still enough people that you would blend in just fine, so you figured there was no harm in humouring him. âFine. Letâs dance, thenâ.
Chris offered his hand to you, which you accepted. He guided you to the dancefloor, leaving his barely touched glass of rum completely forgotten on the wooden surface of the bar.
Your feet were still aching, but you felt fine enough to handle a couple of dances. Deep down, you genuinely just wanted to enjoy this one in a million opportunity. This wasnât something you did often. When would you ever get the chance again to dance with someone you were so intimately connected to?
As soon as you made it to the dancefloor, Chris placed a hand on the small of your back to pull you flush against his body. You just followed his movement, moulding yourself to his body, holding onto his shoulder and his hand as if they would be the only thing to keep you swaying your hips to the gentle music.
He was always so goddamn warm⊠His presence enticed you, just like it always did. Even with this⊠odd look of his, you could still feel the effect his energy had on you.
âYou look so weirdâ, you mumbled in his ear as you continued to follow the music. Chris chuckled softly, lowering his hand the tiniest bit on your lower back. âDonât get me wrong, you still look handsome. But⊠âsuppose Iâve gotten used to seeing your true formâ.
âYou think I look handsome in my true form?â There was a teasing lilt in his words, and, somehow, it amused you.
ââCourse I do. Wouldnât let you fuck me if it werenât the caseâ.
You felt Chrisâ sharp intake of breath next to your ear, and his hands tightened their hold around you. âDonât make me think about fucking you, pretty. I might end up taking you right here if you doâ.
You scoffed a bit, with no real malicious intent in the gesture. âBe honest with me, do you need me to bring attention to it for you to think about fucking me?â
âAh, you caught meâ, Chris chuckled softly. As you danced, he pressed a lingering kiss on your cheek, right before he mumbled, âMaybe I think about you a little too muchâ.
Those simple words immediately kick-started your heartbeat. How foolish of you to let his words affect you like this⊠Chris was a demon. The demon youâd summoned in a moment of weakness. He was just that, nothing more. âIs that so?â
âMmâŠâ Chrisâ hum vibrated against your cheek, it almost felt like it was penetrating into your skin and rattling your insides.Â
There was barely any space between your bodies, you occasionally looked around you to make sure no one was paying too much attention to you, but for the most part the only thing you could truly focus on was the melody floating in the air, and Chrisâ presence all over you.Â
âWhy do you think I keep coming back for more?â
That had you inhaling a shaky breath.
This was nothing.
It meant nothing at all.
It was just Chris playing into your deepest desires, giving you what you needed, what youâd asked for from him. You were well aware of that, but⊠sometimes, you kind of wanted to believe there was truly more to it.
âIs that why youâre here tonight, then?â Your lips ghosted over his skin when you asked the question, just because you had wanted them to. You wanted to feel his smooth, heated skin, and if you couldnât have your hands on his bare body because of his perfectly tailored deep blue, almost black suit, you might as well make do with his cheek.
âPretty much. I was already up here, so I decided to stick aroundâ, you were sure Chris was close to straight up placing his hand on your bum with how he kept moving it a bit further down as time passed, but, at this point, you didnât care about stopping him at all. âAs creepy as it might sound, on the days that I can, I find myself around you quite often. I just never make my presence knownâ.
You pulled yourself away from him a bit so you could look him in the eyes, completely perplexed.Â
Chris chuckled at your reaction. âDonât worry, pet. I only do it in public places. I donât follow you to private spaces, and if youâre at home, I just show myselfâ.
âAs if that makes it any better, creepâ, with a smirk on your face, you scoffed, tightening your hold on his shoulder as he kept guiding you in your dance.
Chris didnât have any remark to bite back, he just smiled at you, in that way that turned his eyes into little crescents. CuteâŠ
As you looked at him, in his tailored suit, wearing that small flower brooch which suspiciously matched the colour of your dress, with that slit in his eyebrow and his brown, very human-looking eyes, you couldnât help but feel like you were missing something. Like there was a little gremlin in the back of your mind trying to hand you a piece of information, but it couldnât quite find it.
âThis look of yours⊠You look familiarâ, your eyes jumped all over his face, taking in his features.
His very handsome featuresâŠ
Chris blinked a bit in silence before he replied to you. ââCourse I do. Iâm⊠well, meâ.
âYou do. But, yâknow⊠Thatâs not what I meanâ.
Chris just shrugged. âI just look like every other guy out there, probablyâ.
Every other guy just wouldnât look this⊠this good. Besides, he did look like himself somehow, just without his demonic traits. Same face structure, same body built, but even then, there was something in his eyes that felt⊠oddly familiar.
You didnât say anything else, just hummed to acknowledge him before you leaned into him to rest your cheek on his shoulder as you continued to dance.
You spent a handful of songs more on the dancefloor, until you just couldnât ignore the many different parts of your body that were bothering you. After a simple âChris⊠My feet hurtâŠâ your unexpected companion for the night took you to the closest surface you could sit on.Â
Twenty minutes later, and after saying your final goodbyes to your bosses and any other relevant person youâd interacted with that night, you were in the back of an uber. With none other than Chris himself, as if he even needed a car to get places.
âHavenât been inside one of these in decadesâŠâ Chris mumbled in your ear, just loud enough for you to hear.
You hummed to let him know youâd heard him, but it was hard to tell him anything when one of his hands had found its way into the slit of your dress, and heâd boldly placed it on your bare thigh. The way his lips pressed slow, gentle kisses on your neck, certainly didnât make it any better.
Oh, how easy it was for him to rile you up⊠Sometimes he didnât even need to do anything. A simple kiss on your pulse-point was all it took for heat to gather in the pit of your stomach.
You could tell he had no intention of dragging his hand further up your thigh than it was necessary. He simply caressed your skin up to a certain point on your inner thigh, and then squeezed a bit on his way down, again and againâŠ
The sound of taps brought your eyes away from the sight of Chrisâ hand to instead look right in front of you, where the driver was tapping a plastic board hanging from her seat. âNo sexual activities on the backseat. The driver of this car reserves the right to deny serviceâ.
âOh, donât worry, maâamâ, you tried your best to steady your voice as Chris kept kissing your neck and your shoulder, completely unbothered. âHe just gets a little clingy and handsy after drinking, but heâs mostly harmlessâ.
A lie, but a lie you had to say to this woman. Because how else could you explain any of Chrisâ habits to this stranger you would probably never see again?
The woman in front of the wheel sighed, tiredly. âMen, am I right?â
âDamn rightâŠâ You replied simply, returning your attention to Chrisâ hand that seemed to be groping you with a bit more force now, but still not reaching any indecent territory.
Mostly harmless, hm? Is that so, baby?
Oh, noâŠ
Dealing with his touch was one thing, but dealing with his touch while he spoke right into your thoughts required a completely different level of self-restraint.
With a deep breath, you crossed one leg over the other, not only trapping his hand between your thighs in hopes of hindering his movements, but also trying to get some relief from the ache that had been steadily building between your legs.
Chrisâ hold on your thigh tightened all of a sudden, almost, almost making you squeal out loud. You should be given a fucking prize for how well you kept that sound inside of you.
Mmm⊠Wanna keep my hand stuck right here? I donât want it to, though. If only it could be my head clamped between your thighs right now instead⊠Wouldnât you like that, little human?
You closed your eyes as you felt Chrisâ lips press a kiss behind your ear. With a deep breath, and a tight hold on the seatâs edge, you tried your best to keep yourself aware of your surroundings. If you gave into temptation, you just knew you wouldnât want to be taken out of the headspace Chris would pull you into.
This was going to be a long, long ride homeâŠ
Walking into your building, hand in hand with Chris, with a human-looking Chris, was certainly not something you could say you did every day.Â
What was even more unusual, was being inside the dingy, crammed lift of your way-too-old building, grabbing a fistfull of Chrisâ dark hair as his lips and his tongue danced slowly against yours.
It was all so, so weird⊠not only the feeling of a totally normal tongue that you werenât used to. It didnât feel bad or wrong in any way, but it almost felt like⊠like you were coming home with someone after a date.
Whatever it was that happened tonight, certainly wasnât a date. It was nowhere near close to being a date⊠You needed to remind yourself that Chris was not someone youâd gone on a date with. But, honestly, it was a bit hard to convince your brain of that when he held you so close by the waist, when his lips moulded so perfectly against yours that you barely heard the lift reach your floor.
Before you knew it, Chris had scooped you in his arms. You couldnât help but yelp in surprise as you held onto his shoulders for dear life. âWhatâs this for?â
Chris shrugged, stepping out of the lift and walking down the corridor towards your door. âYou said your feet hurtâ.
You didnât say anything, just stared at his side profile until he finally reached the door to your home. Only then did he turn to look at you, almost blinding you with the smile on his lips.
Chris⊠he was just way too handsome, something as simple as a smile, regardless of how he looked, was enough to have your cheeks heating up.
How silly of youâŠ
But even more silly, was how you leaned in to press a soft kiss on his cheek, mumbling a quiet âThank youâ before he finally placed you on your feet so you could open the door.
The moment your feet touched the ground you were reminded of just how much they hurt. Curse this pretty, but uncomfortable footwearâŠ
Regardless, once youâd wiped your heels on your doormat enough times to not feel guilty about stepping into your home with shoes onâbecause there was just no way you could undo all these straps standing right outside your doorâyou simply got your keys, unlocked the front door and walked into your flat, with Chris following soon after.
When he stepped out of his shoes, they just dissolved into a dark mist, and as he took his suit jacket off, this one did, too. The motion left him shirtless, because why would he wear a shirt under his suit, when he could spend the entire night with a good chunk of his chest exposed, right?
âIâm gonna just⊠take my make-up off and have a quick showerâ, you turned away from him and started making your way to the bathroom.
âOh, let me help youâ.
You looked back at him again, with one of your eyebrows arched on your face, questioningly. Chris just brought his hands up, giving you one of his signature wolfish grins that made your heart flutter a bit in your chest.
âGot no ulterior motives. Promiseâ.
He sounded genuine, like he honestly wasnât trying to just get into your knickers. So, after a moment of consideration, you hummed in agreement, resuming your walk.
âDid you get what I suggested last time?â He asked once you were both within the echoey walls of your bathroom.
âI did. Itâs already inside the showerâ.
After your last⊠encounter, Chris had insisted you got a shower stool. âI canât keep cleaning you up on the toilet like a savage! Get one of those shower stools, itâll be easier for both of usâŠâ so you did. Youâd admit youâd already used it, people truly disregarded how much easier it was to take a shower after a long day when you could just sit down to do it.Â
Chrisâ hands found your hips, and he gently caressed the swell of them as you stood in front of him. âGood. Turn aroundâ.
You did as asked, and, slowly, he started to unzip your dress. As he did, he walked further into your personal space, not fully pressing his body to yours, but enough that his body heat enveloped you.
You could feel his lips ghost the skin of the nape of your neck before he placed a lingering kiss on it. The gesture made you swallow, it made you feel tingly all over, enough that you kind of wanted to ignore how sore you already were from the long night. You could surely survive a roundâŠ
âIâm⊠Iâm gonna remove the glamourâ, Chris mumbled against your skin, just as he finished unzipping your dress, and brought his hands to your shoulders, sliding them right under the straps. âJust giving you a heads-upâ.
âWhy? You think Iâll get scared?â you chuckled, just as your dress fell to the floor, leaving you in just your heels and your underwear. You carefully stepped out of it, and kicked it somewhere far from the showerâs entrance.
âDunno⊠Youâd been seeing me as just a regular guy for a couple of hoursâ, Chris expertly undid the clasps of your bra. He removed it carefully before you heard the unmistakable thud of it landing on top of fabricâon top of your dress, you presumed. âIt could be kinda jarring to suddenly see me with⊠well, my add-onsâ.
You chuckled again, bringing your hands to your breasts to gently fondle them, trying to ease some of that uncomfortable feeling that lingered after having worn a bra for too many hours.
As if his demon form could do anything other than arouse you at this point⊠These days, just the sight of him made you salivate like a dog; it was practically a pavlovian response at this point.Â
You remained facing away from him as he slid your panties down your legs. He, obviously, didnât waste the opportunity to place some kisses on your buttocks on his way down, a motion that was steadily turning your brain into putty.
However, he truly didnât seem to have any⊠sinful intentions. Chris just asked you to lift your feet so he could take your underwear and throw it on the pile of clothes that had gathered by the entrance of the room.Â
When his hands were on your waist, you finally turned to face him.Â
There they were again⊠those eyes of his that were seemingly endless, dark and void like the nightâs sky. His tail calmly swayed behind him, mindlessly dragging on the tiled floor, and his horns⊠You honestly felt like they just complemented his features so well.
Maybe you were just a sinful little human like he always told youâŠ
Chris stood there, just looking at you, holding your waist while you took him in. The suit trousers were gone, he was dressed only in the silky slacks he usually wore, with his chest still on full display for your ogling eyes.
You brought your hands to his arms, feeling his skin under your fingertips as you dragged them all the way to his shoulders, where they stopped briefly before you brought them to his chest.
For a moment, you couldâve sworn his skin was getting redder wherever you touched him, but you figured it mightâve been the lighting in your bathroom.
You removed your hands from his chest only to cup his cheeks. You used them to move his head all sorts of ways. Left, right, up, down⊠admiring every single one of his features from every angle you could think of. He let you, of course. He always did. Chris often let you play around with his body however you wanted, and if you ever did something he didnât like, heâd just stop you and tell you. That was part of your agreement, after allâŠ
When you finally straightened his head so you could look directly into his eyes, you started stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. âSee? Not scaredâ.
Chris grinned at you. He bent his knees and interlocked his arms under your backside to lift you off the ground before he started walking. âNot very smart of you, is it?â
The shower door opened on its own, and Chris stepped inside with you in his arms, just so he could place you on the shower stool youâd gotten upon his request.
âYou wouldnât hurt meâ, you said matter-of-factly, and, as the words left your mouth, you realised you genuinely believed them.
Chris laughed at that, reaching for the showerhead to get it off of its holder before he knelt in front of you. âAre you sure about that, pet?â
He placed the showerhead on the floor, then started undoing the straps of your heels, very, very slowlyâŠ
âIf you wanted to hurt me, you wouldâve done so when I let you shove your monstrous cock up my assâ, you watched as he finally removed one of your heels, and dropped it in the air for it to float out of the shower before he started undoing the other one.
âJust like I told you earlier, donât make me think about my cock up your ass, pretty human. Not unless you want me to do it right here, right nowâ, he replied simply before he instructed you to take off all your jewellery while he worked your remaining heel off of you.Â
You took everything off as requested. As soon as you were finished, Chris had already taken your heel and your toe ring off. He opened his palm for you to place all your accessories in, and, once you did, he just dropped them in the air for them to float out of the shower as well.Â
Once heâd taken the showerhead in his hand, the tap opened on its own, it seemed to be moving behind you to adjust the temperature, while Chris let the water run over his free hand. When heâd clearly deemed it to be the right temperature, he took a hold of one of your heels and started wetting your feet.Â
You couldnât help but close your eyes and hum as soon as the water touched your skin. The warm temperature was highly appreciated, it was certainly helping ease the dull ache that youâd been feeling after standing in those stupid heels for so many hours.
Chris repeated the motions with your other foot, until your skin was wet enough to his standards, you supposed. The water flow stopped when the tap closed behind you. Your shower-gel floated from the shower caddy to his hand, so he simply uncapped it and squeezed some of the contents in his palms.
He lathered the gel between his hands a bit before he brought them to one of your feet. With gentle motions, Chris massaged your foot, working the suds on your skin.
You really, really appreciated it. It seemed to be further easing the pain, but, as you looked at him, you just couldnât keep quiet any longer. âHave you got a thing for feet?â
Chris bursted out laughing as soon as the words left your mouth, and he looked up at your face without stopping the motions of his hands. âNot particularly. You donât think I wouldâve done something about that already if I did, darling?â
You smiled at him, shrugging. âDunno. You seem to be pretty focused on them tonightâ.
Chris shook his head a bit before he returned his attention to your feet, gently placing the one in his hands on the floor before he took the other to repeat the motions. âYouâve been wearing open shoes all night, sweetheart. Iâm just making sure youâre cleaned up thoroughlyâ.
You supposed you couldnât argue with that. After all, you had stepped in quite the number of sticky puddles at the event, so this was probably a good idea.
As he finished up lathering your feet, and even a bit further up your legs, you were suddenly curious about something, so you asked, âDo you do this to the other people that are summoning you?â
Youâd never really asked Chris about this⊠Youâd think about it sometimes, though. How many people might be just⊠enjoying his company. You tried to always push the question to the deepest recesses of your mind, since it always made an uncomfortable feeling settle in the pit of your stomach.Â
Which was a bit dumb on your part.
Chris wasnât yours, that much you knew. You didnât think he could even be yours in the first place. He was, after all, a demon.
Would you even want that? What would you even do with a demon? Other than fucking, that was.
It was a thought you honestly didnât want to entertain. You didnât think you had the right mind to even think about that possibility right now.
He was quiet for a moment, mindlessly massaging your calves. With a deep breath, Chris shrugged, right before he reached for the showerhead. âI only let myself be summoned by one person at a time. Last time I was summoned, I might have. But there werenât showerheads like these back then, so it wasnât this easyâ.
Your jaw went slack. Back then, he said? Back then?!
âWhen was the last time someone summoned you before I did?â You just couldnât keep the surprise from your voice, it was noticeable enough that it made Chris look up at you, while he blindly rinsed your lower legs.
âDunno, maybe a handful of centuries ago?â He replied simply, like it was nothing.
âCenturies?!â
âThatâs what I said, darling. Yesâ, he chuckled, just as he stood up. âIâm gonna get you all wet alright?â
He was clearly amused by what he said, like a young boy would be after telling a dirty joke. You barely had any time to react before he was pointing the showerhead at your face, making you squeal in surprise and snapping you out of your stupor.
âChris!â You tried to cover your face with one hand while blindly reaching for his hand.
âWhat?â He was⊠he was giggling. It wasnât the first time you heard him giggle, but he didnât do it as often, and, being honest, it was contagious.
âOh, stop it! Gimmeâgimme the showerhead!â You were now giggling yourself. Had it been anyone else, you mightâve been annoyed, but with Chris, you were just⊠amused.
Maybe you were more tired than you thought.
âNuh-uh!â
There was a bit of back and forth, until you abruptly stood up from the stool and managed to get the showerhead from his hand. You turned it against him, making him gasp as he got drenched.
âMy slacks!â
âNow you care about your slacks? They were already wet when you were touching my feet like a weirdoâ, you were just teasing him, of course. You were sure the smirk on your face was enough for him to know.
For a brief moment, you saw his slacks evaporate into dark mist like the rest of his clothes had done earlier. Just for a brief moment, because almost immediately after, the showerhead disappeared from your hand and your chest was pressed to the cold tiles of your showerâs walls, so suddenly it made you gasp.Â
You felt the loud smack on your buttock before you heard it. The sound bounced off of the walls, joining the unexpected moan that came out of your mouth.Â
âBehave, gorgeous. Hm?â Chris was still chuckling, holding your buttock tightly in one hand, while he held the showerhead in the other, pointing the water flow at your lower back.
You turned your head to look at him, as much as you could without fully turning your body. âYou started itâ.
âMm⊠Fair enoughâ, Chris pressed a brief kiss on your shoulder, before he pulled himself away from your spaceâas much as he could within the space of your shower. âSit back down. Weâre not finishedâ.
You turned around and offered him a smile before you leaned in. After pressing a quick kiss on his cheek, you brought your lips close to his ear. âYes, sirâ.
Before he could retaliate, you simply did as asked, and sat down on your stool, batting your lashes at him in feigned innocence. Chris just scoffed, and knelt in front of you once again. Right then, your make-up remover balm and gel floated inside the shower, and right into your lap.Â
âDo your pretty face, Iâll take care of the rest, yeah?â
You hummed, opening the balmâs container and gathering the needed amount so you could start your skin care routine. It was kind of amusing to see him right now. Still kneeling, sometimes going into a crouch, fully naked, half-hard as he diligently lathered you up, but not really making any advances.
You werenât really surprised, honestly. Youâd already told him earlier in the evening that you probably wouldnât be up for it, so unless you explicitly told him, you knew he wouldnât make a real move
Even after the playful encounter, though, and as you kept cleansing your face, Chrisâ words still lingered in your mind. A handful of centuries ago, heâd saidâŠÂ
Demons didnât mix with other demons, not sexually, at least. That was something Chris told you once in passing. If that was true, and he hadnât been summoned by a human in centuries, Would that mean you were the first person heâd laid with in centuries?
That was, if he hadnât found himself entangled with a different being altogether⊠There was a small part of you that doubted that was the case, though. Or, more accurately, that wished that was the case.
But why? Why would that small part of you wish for that? It was foolish on your part, for sureâŠ
Chris wasnât yours. You had to constantly remind yourself of that fact. He couldnât be. You couldnât mix⊠like that.
When you were finally fully cleaned up and refreshed, Chris helped you towel dry your hair and the rest of your body. It was way past midnight, and the long evening was certainly catching up to you.
After he brushed your hair and you got into your fluffiest pyjamas, you were finally tucked into bed. Chris simply laid down next to you on top of the covers, propping his head on his hand as he looked at you.
His hair was slightly damp still, but steadily drying in a messy pattern of curls that seemed to be further swallowing the base of his horns.
âYou look better with curly hairâ, you mindlessly mumbled, with your eyes barely open.
Chris smiled at you. âYou didnât like my straightened hair earlier? I thought itâd be a nice changeâ.Â
You hummed, shaking your head slightly from side to side. âTâwas fine. I just like your curly hair so much moreâ.
âIâll keep it in mindâ, scooting closer to you, he draped an arm over your waist to pull you to him.
âYou do as you prefer, thoughâ.
âI donât have a preferenceâ, Chris mumbled, just before he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.
The lamp on your bedside table switched off, and your eyes finally closed fully. Chris seemed to snuggle even closer, lifting your head a bit so he could bring an arm under your head to curl it around your shoulders.
âThank you for your company tonightâ, you whispered the words against the skin of his neck, where you had buried your face as soon as heâd pulled you close.
âIt was my pleasure, pretty thingâ, Chrisâ other hand slowly caressed your back, further relaxing every muscle of your body. âThank you for letting me keep you companyâ.
You hummed, pressing a brief kiss on his neck. âMâsorry if we didnât⊠YâknowâŠâ
Chris chuckled softly at that, and if you didnât know any better, you mightâve thought he sounded incredulous. âThatâs nothing to be sorry forâ.
Silence stretched for a few moments, all you could hear was his steady breathing, faint voices from the party happening in the house in front of your building, and the odd car passing. You could practically feel your body fully relax, being lulled to sleep by Chrisâ warmth.
Just before you fell asleep, you vaguely heard Chris mumble against your hair.
âWith a bit of luck, Iâll be back in a couple of nightsâŠâ
Attending that company event all those weeks ago certainly worked in your favour. Youâd had an interview a couple of days ago, and the odds were certainly promising. Nothing was certain yet, though. You never believed anything told to you at work unless it was written down on an email, but you held some hope.
Unfortunately, youâd also had a nasty encounter with the debt collectors⊠Youâd managed to pay them part of the money your mother had owed them, but they were trying to increase interests. You still werenât sure how you managed to leave that place without being shot, considering the nasty words you spat at them.
They did increase the interest, but to a much lower percentage than the one originally proposed, which you supposed was⊠not good, but also not bad.
The events of the week had caught up to you, which was why you were grateful that it was Friday night, that you were lying comfortably on your bed, and that you had your favourite demonâs head between your legs.
Chris always provided much needed relief. You didnât want to think about the corporate world or what your mother had done to get you so deep in this mess⊠Sometimes, it was almost like he knew youâd been needing exactly this, to be so lost in your pleasure that you were numb, that you couldnât even remember what had you so wound up in the first place.
It kind of made sense, since that had been your original arrangement⊠It was exactly the reason why youâd sought him out in the first place, or part of it, at least.
Something seemed different lately, though.Â
The other night, after the company event, itâd been the first time Chris had just⊠stayed with you without engaging in any sexual activity, which puzzled you. Not only that, but, after that night, that started happening more frequently.
It wasnât like you were mad about it. You realised you didnât need to have sex with him to get that feeling of relief after meeting with him, which was fine. Maybe more than fine. Still, you couldnât help but wonder why he wouldnât make a move sometimes.
Youâd been meaning to ask him about it, but you hadnât really built the courage to do it. You werenât even sure why you needed to hype yourself up to do it in the first place.
Tonight, though, you didnât want to think about that.
You doubted you could even think about anything at all when Chris had you just⊠like this.
His tongue diligently worked you up, the two halves of the appendage danced around your clit so deliciously you could barely keep your eyes open, and the texture of it further enhanced those jolts of pleasure running up and down your spine. Chrisâ name would occasionally escape from between your lips as a breathless whisper, and you could practically see him rut into the bed as it did.
Bringing both of your hands to his head, you took a hold of each horn with a firm grip. Chrisâ eyebrows furrowed, he moaned, positively heating you up further. You saw his eyes close when you started to gently stroke the base of his horns, softly dragging your fingertips from where they started protruding from his head, before your attention shifted and you caught a couple of his dark strands between your fingers.
His tail thrashed, swishing from side to side before it shot to your ankle. It wrapped around your limb, slowly climbing up a bit before it tightened its hold, and he used it to move your leg further towards your chest. You werenât really sure who was being louder right now, his grunts and moans sent vibrations through you, his quickening tongue had you trembling with need, and you were so, so ready to finally get your reliefâŠ
Chrisâ tongue moved further down, licking at your entrance briefly before it found its way to your ass. You couldnât help but mewl under his motions, fully aroused by the feel of that wet muscle on your sensitive skin, of his nose catching at your entrance. His own noises of pleasure fueled you, it made you believe that Chris enjoyed being right here as much as you did.Â
âChris⊠Iâm⊠Iâm so closeââ Your sentence cut short when he returned his tongue to your cunt, when he pushed his forked tongue within your walls and his nose started to nudge your sensitive nub.Â
With his arms under your thighs, his hands on your hips, gripping you tightly, Chris kept you pressed to the bed, preventing you from pulling away from him. The grip of his tail on your lower leg tightened, your grip on his horns tightened as well. He was fully submerged in you and that heaven between your legs, and, before you could even let him know, you were trembling with the strength of your release.
It didnât matter how much you writhed and whined, he just interlocked his fingers over your tummy and kept you right where he wanted, making your mind go numb under the motions of his lips and his forked tongue.
StarsâŠ
All you could see were stars.
Stars and feathers and soft gentle lightâŠ
As you came down from your high, Chris finally relented a bit. He pressed the flat of his tongue against your clit, giving you slow, gentle licks that helped prolong your pleasure. He was so good to you, better than you couldâve ever expected. He always knew what to do, how to make you feel good, and every time you laid on your bed with him like this, you were reminded of that fact.
You finally let go of his horns, and started tracing the elegant curve of one of them with your fingertips. Your other hand remained mindlessly playing with his curls, almost tenderly, and Chris just hummed, sounding just immensely satisfied.
He finally removed himself from your centre, but he stayed right there, with his hands still holding you down as he left kisses on your inner thighs. As he did, you couldnât help but stare at his back from where you were still somewhat propped on your pillows.
You were barely capable of focusing your tired eyes on it, but you honestly couldnât help but feel curious again. You always did whenever you looked at him, whenever you saw the scarred tissue running parallel to his spine. âIt happened a few millennia ago. They were left behind after my wings were ripped off of my bodyâ, heâd told you once, but he didnât elaborate further. If anything, heâd avoided the topic altogether after that.
He had finally stopped licking at your core, which you appreciated. Right now wasnât a moment for overstimulation, and he seemed to have caught up on that very quickly. As he pressed kisses on your inner thighs, you couldnât help but bring your foot to his back, barely applying pressure with the ball of it on one of his scars.
Chrisâ whole body jolted, his lips immediately detached from your skin with a gasp, and, in the blink of an eye, he was on top of you. With both hands pressed to the mattress at either side of your head, he looked down at you.
You swallowed, suddenly transfixed by the darkness in his eyes.Â
âDoes it⊠Does it hurt?â Your voice was barely a whisper, gentle, and, even to your ears, it sounded like you cared. You supposed you did. It was hard not to care when your protective walls were down, when youâd bared yourself to this demon above you so many times, in more ways than one.
Chris shook his head, licking his lips. âDoesnât really hurt anymore. Itâs just⊠this tingly feelingâŠâ
He readjusted his position, so he could properly kneel between your legs. His tail had loosened its grip, it ran gently up and down your calf in tandem with the tip of his cock on your folds. You held your breath in anticipation, bringing one of your hands to hold one of his wrists, and the other to cup his cheek.
Taking a deep breath, Chris closed his eyes, keeping the slow, teasing motions of his length between your legs. He turned his head the tiniest bit, and placed small pecks of his lips on the palm of your hand.
He was, truly, the oddest demon youâd ever met.
Not like youâd met any demon other than Chris, but he just didnât fit the idea you had of someone like him.
With his lips still pressed to your palm, with his eyes still closed, he finally plunged himself right into you. You couldnât help but gasp in surprise. Even if it wasnât the first time heâd been inside you tonight, the suddenness of it all caught you off guard.
Only when he was fully sheathed within your warmth did he open his eyes. They were dark, endless pools of black like theyâd always been, lustful, sinful, but⊠there was something else there. Something that made you shiver under his heavy gaze.
âFâFuckâŠâ You swore under your breath, dizzy with the feel of the ridges and bumps of his monstrous cock stimulating your walls. âSo bigâŠâ
Chris chuckled, lowering himself to his elbows so he could briefly claim your mouth in a sensual kiss.Â
âThatâs what youâd asked for, no? A big monster cock to fuck you stupidâ, he mumbled the words against your lips, just as he started to move, slowly, almost teasingly rocking his hips. In and out, in and out⊠âThatâs why Iâm here. Isnât it, pet?â
You whined, closing your eyes and further pushing your head against the pillow. You could feel your mind turning hazy once again, lost in the feel of Chris in you, on you, all over youâŠ
âIsnât it?â Chris repeated his question, a bit lower this time, barely even audible over the squelching sounds that started to resonate in your room.
Was that the only reason? A big monster cock?
Youâd convinced yourself that had been exactly it, but now, you werenât so sure.
Your body had a tendency to act on its own around Chris, to do things without receiving the proper, logical signal from your brain, which was probably why you found yourself shaking your head before you could stop it. He didnât say anything about it, though. He just kissed you. Kissed you like he needed you to keep breathing.
His hips sped up, his weight fell further on you, his firm chest rubbed against yours with how close you were. You wrapped your limbs around him, heels interlocked around his torso and your hands palm flat on his back to keep him in place. You needed him closer, as close as he could be. You wanted him to crawl inside your skin, to become one single soul.Â
Although, you supposed his lack of one made it a bit difficult.
That was alrightâŠ
Yours could be plenty for both.
You could feel the tip of his tail dragging up and down the back of your thigh, enticing you, provoking you. Chris was grunting in your kiss, pushing his tongue against yours, tugging your lips with his teeth, and you figured this was as close as you could be.
That was fine.
At least, for now.
Your hands found the scarred skin of his back, and you gently traced the outline of it with your fingertips. Chris seemed to have started trembling under your tender motions, his lips disconnected from yours, and his heavy breaths filled your senses when he rested his forehead on yours.
âDo you⊠Do you regret it?â You asked between broken moans, tightening your legs further around him.
Chris shook his head, and he started to thrust harder into you, further pulling desperate sounds out of your mouth. âWould do it all over againâŠâ
You shivered as soon as the words left his mouth, your walls clenched hard around his length, and Chris swore under his breath.Â
Dragging your hands down his back, they found the base of his tail, and it stiffened up into the air as soon as you touched it. Chris whined, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, being mindful to keep his horns out of the way.
You were barely coherent under his quickening motions, unable to produce any sound that wasnât his name or those that manifested your pleasure. Leaving one hand at the thick base of his tail, stroking the area, you brought your other hand to one of his horns, gently caressing the keratin. Chrisâ hips stuttered, his previously controlled thrusts turned into an uncoordinated tempo, and his desperate moans and pleas of your name became more frequent.Â
âFuck. Fuck, fuck, if youâif you keep doing that, Iâm gonnaâgonna comeâŠâ Chris mumbled, but despite his words, his hips didnât stop.Â
With your mouth next to his ear, making sure he could hear every single moan, every single sigh coming out of your mouth, you whispered. ââŠGoodâ.
His pace was brutal, erratic, his cock brushed all those incredibly sensitive areas within you, just like you needed it to, and when his tail found its way between your bodies for the tapered tip to stimulate your clit, your eyes immediately rolled to the back of your head.
For you, my love⊠Iâd do it all over againâŠ
Chrisâ thoughts slipped into yours, just as a broken whimper escaped his throat and he finally let himself go within your walls.
You werenât sure if itâd been the motions of his tail, or the feeling of his cock repeatedly splitting you open, or the words heâd poured into your mind, but before you knew it, blinding hot pleasure overtook every single one of your senses. Was there anything else in this world that wasnât Chris and his tail and his horns and his cum inside you?
At this very moment, you really couldnât come up with anything off the top of your head, you could barely form a single coherent thought.
A few breaths passed, just before Chrisâ lips found yours. He pressed pecks on your lips, and your hands simply buried in his hair to keep him close as you left kisses of your own on his lips. Tired kisses, yes. But kisses nonetheless.
Kisses that just seemed to perfectly finish your seemingly never-ending night of nothing but warmth and intimacy.
When he pulled away, he started pressing slow pecks on your cheeks, finishing off with a final, lingering one on your forehead before he finally pulled out and rolled off of you.
There was a moment where all that could be heard were heavy breaths, and the swish of Chrisâ tail on your bed sheets. You were basking in that post-orgasmic bliss, enjoying the satisfying aches of your body.
You felt light, but full.Â
Full of Chris.
Both physically and spiritually.
There was a small smile on your lips as you enjoyed those last blissful momentsâŠ
But then your eyebrows furrowed.
Opening your eyes, you stared at the ceiling for a moment. Something was weighing heavy in your mind, like your brain was trying to tell you something that you couldnât quite hear, or that you couldnât quite comprehend.
Propping yourself on your elbow, you looked at Chris. His eyes were almost closed, he even looked relaxed, but as he took in the look on your face, his entire expression shifted.
He looked worried, concernedâŠ
âWhatâs wrong, pet?â He propped himself on his elbow as well to get to your level, and you immediately sat down fully, ignoring the feeling of foreign fluids coming out of your body.
âWhat was that about⊠about you doing it all over again for me?â
Chrisâ eyes widened. He remained silent for a few moments, but then you saw his Adamâs apple bob, and his eyes started jumping all over your face for a while. For a long, quiet while.
He wouldnât say anything, you didnât think youâd ever seen him this paralysed before. Chris wasnât someone that just got paralysed. He was a demon, for crying out loudâŠ
âChris?â
His expression shifted once again, to one of complete neutrality. Like heâd never even shown emotion in the first place.
âIt was just⊠Yâknow, a heat of the moment thingâ, he stood up from the bed, abruptly, breaking eye-contact for a moment before he tried to pull you into his arms. âDonât look too deeply into it. Câmon, letâs go to the showerâ.
You moved away from his reach a bit, which made him frown.
You didnât buy it.
For some reason, you just didnât buy it. Chris was an honest being, heâd always been. Sometimes youâd wondered if heâd been deceiving you for real like all those priests your mother followed would say, but you never truly felt like he was lying. And as you heard him speak just now, you realised that youâd been correct.
Because, right now, he was lying. You could just tell he was, he sounded so insincere, like not even he could believe what he was saying.
You arched an eyebrow, just looking at him, not saying anything, not moving from where you were sitting on the bed. Chrisâ eyes fixed on your hand, and only then did you realise youâd been gripping the bed sheets in a tight fist.
âItâs nothing. You know I ramble a lot, it was just one of those things I say sometimes. CâmonâŠâ
Chris did ramble a lot, and he did say a lot of things in general when you were having sex, but they were always things that made sense within the context, things he thought, things that always felt like he meant them. That, coupled with the fact that he just wouldnât look at your face, was enough to further trigger the alarms in your brain.
âYou didnât just say it. You thought itâ, you saw him swallow again, you could see and hear his tail relentlessly moving behind him, hitting the floor, your bedside table, a chair⊠âChris, look me in the eyes and tell me again it was just a heat of the moment thingâ.
He remained quiet, unmoving, completely frozen on the spot. There were not only alarms in your brain now, but anxiety was also quickly building within you, although you didnât quite understand why.
âWhat do I have to do with the fact that someone ripped off your wings?âÂ
Chris finally reacted. He brought a hand to his hair, ruffled it as a tired sigh fell from his lips. âThis is⊠Itâs not⊠I mean, it just slipped out of my head, but itâs not like, you knowâŠâ
Now he was truly rambling, and it just irked you. âNo. No, I donât knowâ.
âLet me just⊠I need to clean you up, okay? You need to drink something, we can talk about this laterââ
âNoâ, you said firmly, tightening your grip on the bed sheets under you. âYouâre hiding something from me. Youâre lying to me. Youâve never lied to me. Why? Why are you lying?â
Chris sighed, turning his back to you and walking towards your open window. He held onto the frame, but he didnât move further.
You stared at the scars on his back. The original wound mustâve been deep, traumatic to the skin, leaving keloids behind upon healing. He had other scars, too, but none stood out quite like those two did.
You stood up from the bed on unsteady legs, and made your way to the window. The aches in your body you usually enjoyed so much were just inconvenient like this, which reminded you why Chris was the one to take you in his arms everywhere after hours of nothing but sex.
Chris let go of the windowâs frame, and instead brought both hands to his head, where he gripped his hair and the base of his horns as he mumbled to himself. âShit⊠I shouldâve been more careful⊠This wasnât supposed to be like thisâŠâ
âWhat wasnât supposed to be?â You reached for his back. The moment your fingertips touched his scars he immediately whipped around to face you, looking at you with a deep frown on his face. âGod, would you just say something?â
âDonât!â Closing his eyes tightly, Chris held his head in his hands, shaking it from side to side. You took a step back at the tone of his voice. Heâd been loud, louder than heâd ever spoken to you. âDonât say Her name. This is all Her fucking fault. If She had just let me do what I wanted, we wouldnât be like thisâ.
âWhoâs she?â You were beyond confused, raising the tone of your voice in response to his own increase in volume.
âGod!â Chris said it like it was a name. Not an expression of frustration, or confusion. It was a name. He was talking about God as if they were someone, as if she was someone. âYou wanna know why I was thinking what I was thinking?! Because She took you away from me! And when I tried to get you back, She turned me into this!â He gestured to his eyes with two of his fingers, as if that made this make sense at all.
Chris didnât seem like he was thinking, he was just talking, rambling, venting, rendering you speechless in the process.
âIf She had let me just get you back we wouldnât have to be in this endless, agonising cycle. She always letâs you fucking die, and I always have to watch! Iâve seen you die more times than I have fingers on my hands. Iâve had to wait centuries for you. Sometimes even millenniums! All on my own, because She just loves to play with us like weâre her little figurines. She just loves to see me suffer, to make you suffer, just because I wouldnât do exactly what She wanted me to do! Do I wish She wouldnât have taken my wings? Yes. Yes, I do! But even then, Iâd do what I did again! And again, and again, and again! I couldnât just do nothingâ.
You stood there, speechless, trembling, confused out of your mind. Before you could open your mouth Chris swore, a loud, aggressive, âFuck!â that had all items on your vanity flying onto the floor. Once again, he brought his hands to his head, resting his palms on his forehead as he fell to the floor, curling in on himself as he crouched.
There was silence for a while. It was deafening, suffocating, you felt like your legs, too, were about to give out, and you barely even registered your own voice coming out of your mouth.
âWhat⊠What are you saying?â
It was barely above a whisper, but Chris looked up at you anyway. His eyes were nothing but a black void, and yet, you could see his feelings painted all over his face⊠Pain, despairâŠ
When he stood up from the floor, his hands were immediately on your cheeks, so fast you barely had time to react. âYou were meant to be with me forever. I promised you a forever⊠But not like this. It wasnât supposed to be like thisâ.
With trembling hands, you reached for his own that cupped your face, and pulled them off of you before you started walking backwards.
âYouâre not making any sense. What the hell are you talking aboutâŠ?â Your ears started to ring, your head started to hurt, and your vision spun.
âI shouldâve told you. I shouldnât have let it slip like it was nothing, I know I shouldâve told you, but Iâm a fucking coward and can never bring myself toâ, Chris tried to walk closer to you, but you immediately walked away.
The back of your knees hit your mattress, and you immediately stumbled and fell ass-first on it. Your hands were shaking, the ringing in your ears seemed to intensify, and your chest started to feel heavy. âYou⊠You shouldâve told me what? I donât understand a single thing, Chris. What the fuck are you talking about?â
Chris remained rooted on the spot, looking at you like standing right there was hurting him. âIâm not just a demon. I wasnât even always a demon⊠My wings, my soul⊠God took them away from me because I tried to get you back from the underworld many, many years agoâ.
Your lower lip started to wobble, your chest felt tight. Was he saying that⊠he lost his wings because of you? But that didnât make any sense whatsoever to you. Chris just kept talking, rambling like he often did.
âWhy do you think youâve always been fascinated by the occult? It doesnât make sense considering your background, does it? But you are. You always sought out that which was beyond, youâve always been looking for meâ, Chris walked closer to the bed, and your eyes remained fixed on his eyes, lost in the darkness. In the darkness that apparently had been your faultâŠ
âI was one of Godâs angels, you know? An obedient little servant⊠Always ready to do whatever She asked of me. That changed when I met you. Not this you, but the you in your first life. Since then, I am bound to you, I promised you I would be, and we are. But God just canât let me have what I want⊠Because of what I did, because She banished me to the underworld, I can only leave it whenever you are looking for meâ.
Chris laughed, but it wasnât a humorous laugh, more one caused by absurdity, one that left a bitter taste on your tongue. âIf your bond is so strong, then Iâm sure youâd have no problem waiting for the call⊠Thatâs what She told me then. And⊠I suppose She was right. It doesnât matter if it takes you centuries to be reborn. You always look for me. Whenever you reincarnate into a human, you always look for meâ.
âNâNo. I wasnâtâ I didnâtâŠâ This wasnât what youïżœïżœd been trying to do when you had decided to summon a demon⊠How could you be looking for Chris, when you didnât even know him? You were calling to any demon⊠werenât you? You were sure youâd been doing just that, which was why it was so hard for your brain to fully understand what he was telling you. âHow could I? I didnât know you before thatâ.
âYou did!â Chrisâ voice boomed in your room, the loudest, most aggressive youâd ever heard it. It made you jump on the spot, the way the darkness in his eyes started shifting, swirling into erratic patterns, the way his tail thrashed behind him, all of it combined made you feel uneasy. Especially when he was walking, getting closer to your bed. âYou do! Listen to meâ!â
âStop it!â You raised one of your hands, with your palm facing him. Chris froze on the spot, just before he could climb into your bed. âJust⊠just stop shouting!â
Slowly, Chrisâ expression changed. From that angry, frowning demon, to a look of shock, then concern. âI didnâtâI didnât mean toââ
âStop talking for a second, would you?!â You brought your hands to your face, and applied pressure on your eye sockets with your fingertips.
Your head was throbbing, overworked from trying to fully understand what Chris was telling you. Suddenly, you felt like crying. The tight feeling in your chest was suffocating you, his presence was suffocating you, and, before you knew it, you were sobbing, having a full on meltdown right then and there.
âLove, listenââ
âNo! What do I have to listen to?! Huh?!â You could barely see him through your blurry vision, only able to barely make out the shape of his body and his tail anxiously moving behind him. âThat itâs my fault that youâre like this right now?! That Iâm somehow trapped in a cycle with you?! What the fuck is this about?! That just doesnât make sense, Chris! Youâre lying!â
âIâm not lying! I can give you all the details you want, but not⊠not like this, not right now. You need to calm down andââ
âI need to calm down?! Me?!â You scoffed, followed by quite possibly the most pathetic sob youâd ever heard. You were sure your head was about to explode, the ringing in your ears got even louder, and you just needed to breathe. âThis isnât what I wanted⊠Itâs not what I was looking for⊠Please just⊠just leaveâ.
âWhat?! No. No, no, I canâtâ!â Chris was scrambling, once again trying to get on your bed, trying to get close to you.
âI said leave, Christopher!â You couldnât recognise your own voice coming out of your mouth, you could barely understand where you were, where was up, where was down⊠The world was spinning, your whole body started to hurt, and all you wanted to do was lay down and cry. Alone, in silence.
âNo, no, no, please! Donât use my name for this, itâs not fair! I canât just leave you like this!â The air around you started to shift, like there was a strong current coming from the window, it had goosebumps rising on your flesh, it almost made you tremble.
âPlease leave me alone, Christopher. I just⊠Whatever this is, I just⊠I just canâtââ
Chris fell to his knees, clutching his chest. His body was taut, like he was fighting that strong blow raking your bedroom, like it was taking every single bit of power he had to remain right there.
Between gasps, Chris crawled to the side of your bed. He tried to reach out to you, but you just couldnât let him get any closer, you couldnât, so you shuffled backwards, sobbing as you watched his hand fall on the edge of your mattress and gripping it tightly.
You could barely make out the features of his face, but you could tell he was looking right at you.Â
âI know⊠I know itâs hard, but, pleaseâŠâ He looked like he was in excruciating pain, like he was about to rip your mattress with how tightly he was holding onto it. âPlease, call for me. Whenever youâre ready, just call for me. Iâll wait. Iâll always waitââ
Chrisâ form quickly evaporated into dark mist. The air in your room went back to normal, rather abruptly. The sudden shift had you collapsing on your bed and gasping for air.
It was all so much.
Whatever just happened, was just too much for you.Â
The pain in your head intensified, you felt like the weight of the world had been placed on your chest, but, worst of all, you felt just so incredibly cold. So, so cold. Unbearably cold. So you reached for your bed sheets and threw them on your body to try and warm yourself up.
You spent a long time curled up under the bed sheets, with your face buried in one of your pillows while you just cried your heart out. You were hurting all over somehow. Emotionally, physically, spirituallyâŠÂ
It wasnât until your body had exhausted all remaining energy fuel within yourself that you eventually stopped crying. And as you laid there, dealing with all the different aches and pains of your body, just as you were about to pass out for the night, you finally understood why Chris had always been so insistent on aftercare.
It was, in fact, a very integral part of the act of sex. If youâd let him do it before this whole thing exploded, maybe you wouldnât be feeling like a beaten up, empty tin can.
< Part 1 | Part 3 >
Authorâs notex2: i am so sorry.
the third and final part is currently being planned.
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General Masterlist
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Saw your post asking for requestsđ
Would you write an ellie w x reader where tommy and joel come home one day and catch them kissing and fluff ensuesđ
Tangled In Love
! Pairings ,' Ellie x Reader
! CW ,' pure fluff (I know, I'm surprised I was able to write this too)
! words ,' 0.6k
! synopsis ,' Your girlfriend's father figure finally finds out about your relationship
! song ,' Glue - beabadoobee
"Tangled in love, stuck by you"
! AN ,' I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS, I'M SORRY IF IT'S SHORT I DIDN'T HAVE MANY IDEAS FOR THIS AND I SUCK AT WRITING FLUFF
You rested snugly in Ellie's embrace, entwined on the couch, as the dying sun cast a warm glow through the windows, painting the room with a gentle embrace. Outside, birds chirp their melodies as if orchestrating the perfect backdrop for this intimate moment.
Ellie's short brown hair tickles your cheek as she leans in to place a tender kiss on your lips. Like constellations on her fair skin, her freckles stood out, and her vibrant green eyes glisten with affection. Each touch and every stolen glance makes your heart flutter with joy.
As you giggled, attempting to untangle yourself, she held you tighter, not wanting to let go. âEls, you need to leave before Tommy gets back,â you whispered. Ellie whined, âheâs still on patrol.â
Lost in the peaceful embrace, you suddenly hear the sound of the front door opening. Surprise fills your widened eyes, mirroring Ellie's expression. Joel enters alongside Tommy. Their early return catches you off guard.
Joel looks over and spots the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms. His eyes widen, and a flicker of confusion passes over his face. You can sense the awkwardness in the air, knowing that Joel thought you and Ellie were nothing more than best friends. You, living with Tommy temporarily due to your house burning down in an accident and the lack of available housing in the community, understands the implications of the situation.
Your lips parted slightly at the sight of Joel, your eyes flickering between him and Ellie. They had been distant for years so you felt like they needed to talk.
Feeling the unease, you gently suggest, "Maybe I should leave so you and Joel can talk."
But Joel surprises you with a smile. "No need for that. How about we join you and Tommy for dinner instead?"
You exchange a glance with Ellie, her expression filled with relief. Accepting Joel's invitation, you make your way to the dining table, accompanied by Ellie's hand in yours. The room is filled with a mix of tension and curiosity as you sit down together.
Throughout the meal, Joel remains silent, observing your interactions with a warm smile. He engages in light conversation, trying to alleviate the awkwardness and make you feel welcome. Tommy chimes in, sharing stories of their recent patrol, diverting attention away from the unspoken truths lingering in the room.
As the dinner progresses, the atmosphere gradually eases, and you find yourself more at ease in Joel's presence. His smile becomes genuine, a silent acknowledgment of his acceptance.
In that poignant moment, you realize that despite the initial astonishment and uncertainty, Joel's unwavering support radiates. The evening evolves into a memorable occasion, filled with laughter, shared stories, and a newfound understanding.
âDonât leave me if they get too awkwardâ Ellie whispers playfully in your ear. The two of you stand by the door, bathed in the porch light's glow. Joel waits on the pathway, a distance away, waiting for Ellie.
You chuckled, âYouâre stuck with me babe, like glueâŠ..or that god awful pizza dough Jesse made when we were helping him make dinner for Dina.â You shuddered jokingly âit was in my fingernails for weeks dude-â
âWait- hold up, rewind, dude???â Ellie interrupts, faking offense.
âShu-â
âHell nah, we were sucking face like four hours ago and youâre calling me dude???â
Both of you erupt in laughter, the sound echoing like joyous chimes. Eventually, the laughter subsides, leaving behind a tender gaze shared between you.
âSee you tomorrow?â
âSee you tomorrowâ
You watched her walk away, waving goodbye to Joel as they faded into the distance.
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Real Eyes, Fake Lies (Part Six)
Pairing: soulmate!Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2.7K
Warnings: angst, Hanahaki!AU, filler chapter before next big plot point đ, Marvel spoilers i guess?? Jihoon sucks when it comes to talking about things, sus Jeonghan, swearing, feelings of self doubt?
Summary: What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesnât want you back?
A/N: Just a short little filler chapter for you guys before the next big plot point! A few cute little moments and a lay off the angst for a bit too! Some new characters will drop next chapter, and I canât wait for you all to read! Thank you all for loving this story as much as I love writing it đ«¶đŒ
-Tae đâš
If youâd like to be tagged, shoot through an ask!
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Y/N: Meet me at the auditorium after you finish class? Iâll be helping the Jeongyeon and the girls with their Vocal project and then we can go to the library.
Jihoon rereads your text for the fifth time as he makes his way towards the auditorium with a sigh, looking up at the sky as the sun tries to peek out from behind the clouds. Itâs a Friday afternoon, Ji-ah has just sent him off with a kiss and a smile as she leaves campus to take the train back home to her family as per usual, leaving him alone for the weekend. He winces into direct sunlight with a scowl before trudging inside the large building.
Jihoon blinks at the sound of five distinct voices harmonizing together on the empty stage, and he recognizes that the voices belonged to your five girlfriends, Jeongyeon, Jihyo, Momo, Dahyun and Nayeon. He spots you sitting at the piano at the side of the stage, playing a simple melody as the girls sing into the empty theatre. He is captivated at how well the girlsâ voices all blend together.
âHeaven forbid someone whisper âheâs part of some schemeâ,â Jihyo sings. âYour enemy whispers,â
âSo you have to scream!â The girls harmonize, and Jihoonâs eyes widen as you sing alongside them from the piano, still playing flawlessly.
âI know about whispers,â Momoâs voice is soft and delicate.
âI see how you look at my sister...â Your voice is clear as a bell as your voice projects through the room. Jihoon feels like time has stopped as he hears you.
âDonât!â
âIâm not naive, I have seen women around you,â Dahyunâs voice is deep and angry, singing with emotion, your voice harmonizing behind her. He canât keep his eyes off you.
âDonât think I donât see how they fall for your charms,â Jeongyeon and Jihyo sing together, facing each other and locking eyes.
âAll of your charms!â Everyone sings together.
Theyâre good, Jihoon thinks to himself. Really good.
âIâm erasing myself from the narrative,â the girls all sing in a ladder, overlapping each other with precision.
âLet future historians wonder how Eliza reacted when you broke her heart,â their harmonies are on point, Jihoon can feel goosebumps rise on his skin.
âYou have thrown it all away, stand back and watch it,â
âBurn~â
The harmony echoes through the empty seats, Jihoon now sitting at the end of the front row to listen.
âJust watch it all burn,â he keeps his eyes on you, singing full heartedly as you keep playing the piano without missing a beat. Your eyes are glued to the sheet music in front of you as the rest of the girls stay put in their spot.
Jihoon stays quiet in stunned silence as you, alongside your friends sing the rest of the song together in perfect harmony. Heâs shocked at how polished the performance is, you all have clearly put a lot of time and effort into it.
âIf you thought you were mine,â itâs almost like the girls were competing with each other for the best belt for the finale, but at the same time their voices overlapping fits the song perfectly.
âDonât.â The song stops sharply and abruptly.
The girls are all looking expectantly at you, and you turn on the chair to smile at them.
âI think youâre ready.â You beam. âLike seriously, that was the best youâve all sounded yet.â
âReally?â Momo smiles back at you, taking both of your hands in hers.
âReally!â You nod excitedly.
âI personally think we only sound this good because of you.â Jihyo smirks, hugging around you from behind, your laugh echoing in the room as she plants a kiss on your cheek gratefully.
âOh hush, you.â You swat her hands playfully as the others laugh with you.
Your laugh is foreign to Jihoon, but he wouldnât mind hearing it more often, he decides.
âI agree with Ji.â Jeongyeon hums, bumping her hip with yours. âYour voice was just what we needed to make it perfect. Itâs a shame that you have to hide behind that big piano though. We need you center stage with those golden pipes.â
âThen who else will play the music, silly?â You snark back, smiling.
âWe can easily find a backing track, miss smarty pants.â Dahyun raises her eyebrow as Nayeon points to her with wide eyes.
âShe has a point, Bug.â
âAnd risk the performance fucking up because we trusted a machine?â You cross your arms with a pout. âIâm happy behind the piano, you know that.â
âExcuse me!â Jihyoâs voice now booms towards your soulmate, who was now sitting up, startled at the volume of her voice. âThis is a closed practice! Women only!â
âI..â
âYah! Have some decorum!â You throw a bottle of water at her with a laugh. âItâs just Jihoon. We need to go study for Film Studies.â
You roll your eyes with a grin as all the girls rush to grab you. But youâre faster, jumping off the edge of the stage and leaning beside Jihoon with your backpack in hand.
âNo fair! You donât get to steal her away!â Momo whines and stomps her foot, making you laugh and wave at the girls.
âUnfortunately, he does. Unless you want me to fail and stay behind for a year.â You smirk as they all relent. âGood job today, my loves! Same time next week yeah?â You blow them all kisses as they repeat the gesture back to them. âSorry, did I take too long?â You ask your soulmate quietly as he trails out of the auditorium behind you.
âUhh, no.â He finds his voice after a beat of silence, cheeks slightly pink. âNot at all.â Your angelic voice is still ringing in his ears.
âSorry about them,â You wave your hand back at the building. âThey tend to make goodbyes a drawn out affair so I tried to be quick.â
âItâs fine.â He nods, and you release a breath you didnât realize you were holding, walking to the campus library with Jihoon in silence.
Jihoon watches you from the corner of his eye as you walk together, suddenly more withdrawn and quiet. If you were a flower, Jihoon wouldâve thought you just wilted right in front of him.
âDo you think people will sit back and think about that?â
âThis is exactly what this project is about!â You chirp, pushing the laptop towards him. âThink about it. Tony Stark is obviously a fan favourite, both in the comics and the cinematic universe.â Youâre pointing out graphs on the screen. âEveryone was on his side when Civil War came out. I bet you were too.â
âI mean, yeah, I suppose.â Jihoon raises his eyebrow at you.
âWhich brings me back to my point.â This is the most animated heâs seen you be towards him, scribbling down on a notebook in front of you both. âBucky is not to blame for Tonyâs parents death. Yes, he is the one who caused their deaths, but he was under the mind control of Hydra. He was not in his right mind to control his own decision making due to the fact he was literally being controlled by these crazy bastards.â
Jihoon opens his mouth to speak.
âI know what youâre about to say,â you counter before he speaks. âYouâre going to say âbut he still did it.â I mean, he did do it but if I hypnotized you to be a killing machine that you literally couldnât stop yourself from being said killing machine, would you have the power to stop me? The answer is no. Bucky didnât deserve the witch-hunt he was faced with, and Steve was completely justified in protecting his best friend. Bucky even felt guilty about it when Tony confronted him.â
âTony was Steveâs friend too, though.â
âWho he knew for what, five minutes?â You quip back. âIf your childhood best friend made a mistake and spent his entire life in agony against his will, tried to defend himself from your new friend of two years, who would you be picking?â
â⊠you make a point, Choi.â He hums, nodding his head sagely. âYeah, okay, this is good. This will get them talking.â
âAnd itâs perfect, because we can discuss both sides!â You smile. âEven though Iâm on Buckyâs side.â
Jihoon lets out a chuckle, with a little smile on his face. âIâm happy with that idea if you are?â
âReally?â You sit up straight, blinking owlishly. âYou donât have any ideas?â
âI mean, I had a few ideas but they were all pretty one sided. This idea works well because we can say the views from both sides.â
You blink again before giving Jihoon a little smile. His heart skips a beat involuntarily. âOkay, letâs do that then.â
âI can work on the Stark side and you can work on the Barnes side and we can discuss?â Jihoon pulls out his own pen and paper, starting to jot down a few notes. âWe should only do a few ideas now and next week we can meet up to watch the film to draw out some points.â
âSounds good to me.â
You nod your head quickly as you both get to work, the only sounds between you both being your pens and the occasional clicking of the keyboard of the laptop between you both.
Every so often, Jihoon feels like he can feel your eyes on him, but every time he sneaks a glance, your eyes are firmly on your notebook, diligently writing line after line of dot points on your page. It must be his imagination.
Every few moments, he spots you reaching up and rubbing at a spot on your collarbone like you have an itch, and he feels his curiosity growing but decided to leave it be for the sake of the project.
âI heard you were helping out with auditions..â you trail off softly as you walk by Jihoonâs side, two hours after your study session had begun. The sun is setting in the sky now as you shove your hands in your pockets. Youâre standing on the outer side of the sidewalk, feet ghosting over the lip of where the concrete meets the road.
âSure am.â He drawls, kicking at a rock on the pavement. âWhy do you ask?â
âOh, no reason,â You shake your head quickly. âI was just going to ask how itâs going.â Your eyes stay focussed on your feet. Jihoon spots your neck flushing pink.
âItâs not bad.â He shrugs. âBut I donât know how you can work with some of those actors. Almost all of them canât sing for shit.â
You let out a cough as you seemingly choke on your own saliva, a laugh escaping your throat. âTheyâre not that bad, Jihoon-ssi.â
Jihoon feels like itâs so formal when you address him now. There is still the occasional moment you will call him simply Jihoon, but never Oppa. Not since the incident.
âThey are bad when you have to hear the same rendition of âMamma Mia! Here I go again. My my, how can I resist you?â for four hours.â He groans, your amused smile growing on your lips as he speaks. âWhy didnât any of your friends audition? They sound a whole lot better than anyone else who sang.â
At the mention of your friends, you perk up a bit. âBelieve me, Iâve tried. But theyâre happy in their little show choir. I insisted that they would easily get the main role if they just showed up to audition, but they argued with me every step of the way.â You sigh, shrugging your shoulders. âSo, I gave up.â
âHmm, pity.â He hums. âIt wouldâve been better than who theyâre deciding for callbacks.â
You nod along with him, and just as youâre about to respond, Jihoon beats you to the punch.
âYou wouldâve been good, too.â
Your cheeks immediately flush a deep red, turning your head to look away. âUhh, thanks.â
âI mean, it isnât a compliment.â Jihoon retorts. Your shoulders sag. âWell, I mean⊠it is, I suppose.â He immediately tries to mend things. âBut coming from someone who sadly has perfect pitch, you, Jeongyeon and the others were the best singers Iâve heard all month.â
âThank you, Jihoon-ssi.â You smile softly at your soulmate before flinching and taking a quick step towards him.
You were standing a bit too close to the road as a car sped past you, almost knocking you off your feet if it wasnât for Jihoon to catch you by the loop of your backpack. He swiftly maneuvers you to walk on the inside of the path, now standing in your original spot without blinking an eye or missing a stride.
âItâs fine.â He acts like nothing happened. âAnd, if itâs too much for your rehearsal, or whatever.. Iâve been trained in piano since I was in middle school. So, uh⊠I could play the backing track for you if you wanted to focus on singing with the girls⊠if you wanted.â It was his turn to turn red as he walked, stammering. He truly didnât intend on offering this to you, he just let it slip out like word vomit. âI donât have anything to do after school on Fridayâs since Ji-ah usually leaves for her family, so I mean if you guys wanted I could help out.â
He was babbling and probably repeating himself now. Oh god, can you please shut him up.
âOh..â your eyes are wide as you stare at him. âI mean, I can check with the girls⊠but are you sure? You really donât have to if you donât want to.â Jihoon feels it. Your nerves begin to swirl in the pit of your stomach, the doubt and worry running through you as you question everything.
âItâs fine.â He insists. âReally, I love playing the piano anyway so this is just like a holiday for me. Honest.â
âThen, yeah.. sure.â You nod slowly as your walking slows as you reach the block before your house. âIâll ask the girls and see. Thank you.â
âSure.â He hums, hands stuffed deep in his pockets.
âAnd⊠uh⊠before you leave.â You pause at your front gate. Jihoon stops and turns to face you, eyebrows raised in curiosity. âSoonie told me to ask you⊠usually this time of year leading up to Cheolâs birthday, we usually go on a big camping trip. This year weâre going to Busan and Jeonghan has told us to invite anyone who we think would want to go.â
Youâre kicking at the invisible dust on the ground. âSoonie knew I was meeting up with you for the project so he told me to ask if you and Ji-ah want to come. Itâs in a couple of weeks from now so you donât have to decide yet, but the offer is there.â
âOh, that sounds fun.â He nods slowly. âIâm from Busan, so thatâd be nice.â
âAnd you guys wouldnât have to worry about getting a ride there!â You insist quickly. âJeonghan is hiring a bus so you guys can just tag along- wait, what did you say?â
âItâd be fun..?â Jihoon repeats himself before you let his words process through your brain. You blink and nod your head quickly.
âOh, okay. Good.â You step inside the gate. âIâll get Soonie to text you the details?â
âSounds good, thanks.â Your soulmate nods again, a ghost of a smile on his face.
âThanks for walking me home, Jihoon-ssi. Have a good night.â You bowed your head before turning around, rushing to the front door of your home.
âGoodnight.â Jihoon mumbles, the door already closed behind you. Once he knows youâre not going to go out again, he turns around and continues his walk home.
âLadybug? Is that you?â You hear Jeonghanâs voice coming from the kitchen.
âYeah. Itâs just me, Oppa.â You call back, stepping into the room and giving him a quick hug.
âItâs late. Did you walk home on your own?â Seungcheol steps into the room at the sound of your voice, hand on his hip.
âNo, I had to study with Jihoon-ssi, remember?â You lean against the counter with a little smile. âHe walked me home, itâs on his way.â
âOh, how chivalrous of him.â He cooed playfully, making you roll your eyes.
âOh please.â You wave your hand. âHe probably only did it because you wouldâve murdered him if he didnât walk me home, or had someone organized to get me.â
âThis is true.â Your brother smirks, reaching out and ruffling your hair. You have a small smile on your face that doesnât go unnoticed by Jeonghan, who watched you with a raised brow.
âHannie-Oppa,â you turn to said man. âJihoon and Ji-ah are confirmed to be coming to Busan too, Soonie invited them.â
âJi-ah?â Cheol asks, tilting his head.
âHis girlfriend.â You mutter, Jeonghanâs eyebrows raising so high up that heâs surprised they havenât touched the ceiling.
Girlfriend. Interesting.
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