#I feel like on Monday the sun was setting just as I left work | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aseaofyoongi · 9 months

Text

my heart did | jjk

jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: e2l | bully romance | smut | angst

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: as soon as senior years comes to an end a lot of teens shed who we were and strive to be flourish into a more polished version of themselves. although, broken hearts aren’t so quick to heal what happens when thoughts reveal all we need to know?

warnings: lets begin.. themes and mentions of bullying; brief physical violence; brief mention of blood; bickering; denial of feelings; mention of less than ideal parents; cliche high school themes (in flashbacks); foul language; oral (m. receiving); penetrative and unprotected sex; clitoral stimulation; nipple play; thigh riding; vag fingering; overstimulation; sub!jjk themes - he is a good boy; he uh.. arrives on her face.. anyways; i hate this trope ugh but miscommunication; jjk has a big d!; not edited.

word count: 25,5 thousand words

posted: wed sept. 6, 2023 at 12:28PM

notable songs: like i want you - giveon | thinkin bout you - frank ocean | like or like like - miniature tiger | war of hearts - ruelle | sunday morning - maroon5 🎧

The sun is now setting.

Behind you as the last hours of the late summer evening approached the sun was beginning to finally pucker its lips against the horizon, as a result, the sky became dusted with hints of deep orange, yellow and purple. The clock finally struck nine o’clock and you couldn’t help but slump down on the palms of your hands, sitting behind the main desk on the same stool you had been since the beginning of your shift. Your pupils followed as the little hands on the clock hung on the opposite wall seemed to move slower and slower, completely freezing you in time.

Fucking Mondays.

You sighed. When you had initially signed up for the work study position at the library you thought things would be just a bit different.

For example, you thought being a staff member here would get you free access to course books and materials but that wasn’t the case. Right before you’d been hired, some idiot named Yoongi who worked behind the help desk at the computer lab was caught selling copies of the course materials to multiple students on campus.

Like—right before you were hired and now that privilege had been swiped right off the tip of your fingers the moment your member badge had been printed.

Secondly, time behind that rotating door at the main entrance just stopped. No, more like slammed down on the brakes abruptly the moment you crossed that threshold. There were no warnings or brake lights or even a bright sign to apprise in advance.

Another drawn out sigh escaped your lips.

There was no exaggeration in your boredom, however, besides the ‘promises’ of saving money on school materials vanishing entirely, you still needed the monetary earnings so you hid behind a fabricated smile and immediately accepted the job offer happily.

Well, as happily as you could be.

God, you were jaded. Five after nine. Only five minutes had gone by yet it felt like an eternity.

Your mind was on overdrive yet your body remained stationed in the same exact place—in the same exact position. Not a single tendon transposed and they constricted your muscles in place. You were there sort of glued to the metal surface of the stool but fuck did you wanted to move.

Needed to actually. You needed a sort of mobile stimulation but still you couldn’t seem to get your arms and legs to comply. Not until your focus circled around your extremities and your need to just fucking. . do something.

You crossed your legs to the left, then to the right, then you hung your legs on the wooden bar under the desk to give them a rest from just hanging on your side, then you sat with your legs spread open before realizing you wore a skirt and you quickly pressed your thighs together tightly. Shift after shift you grew more angsty, more impatient, more exasperated with the sluggish speed the hours of the night adopted.

Slowly, you reached into your bag and unwrapped a piece of gum before sticking it in your mouth. You chewed slowly. Seven after nine, only two minutes have gone by since you last looked at the time.

Okay, maybe if you number your chews to the rhythm of each second then time will somehow speed by. Right? You began your countdown backwards from sixty.

You chewed down on the watermelon flavored stick of gum. Sixty.

Again, fifty-nine.

And, again, fifty-eight.

Once more, fifty-seven.

In just a matter of minutes the sky behind you turned pitch black and finally the stars came out to play, they pranced around dancing in the sparkling delight and you couldn’t really help but envy their freedom as they lived without confinement.

“Tell me something. .” You quickly registered that irritating tone, that very familiar and insipid, absolutely annoying and vexing tone. The same one which sent a bubbling shot of acid to course into your bloodstream every time you were faced with the disdain of hearing it, “should I reprint you a copy of the employee manual? Last time I checked skirts above the knee and gum chewing are strictly prohibited in the work place.”

You leaned your head to the side, narrowing your eyes in his direction as he stood by the doorframe, “you’re not the supervisor, let alone the manager,” you murmured through gritted teeth, “fuck off.”

He shook his head slowly while clicking his tongue. He was mocking you, the little shit was mocking you, “Not a manager. Just someone who likes to enforce the rules especially comes to you.”

“Rule enforcer?” you scoffed, chewing louder and louder as you chomped down, purposefully smacking your gum in the process, “sounds a lot like you being a little bitch. I guess it’s all just the same to me.”

“Bitch?” he guffawed.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” you challenged.

“Mini skirt, gum chewing, and foul language. You’re really making this so easy for me,” he mocked.

The extent of your interactions were always, always, reduced to this. Just the endless streaks of taunting, the continuity of poking at each other buttons beyond forgiveness, and to top it all of the boiling irritation cooking up in the pit of your stomach.

As far back as you could remember there wasn’t an ounce of amiability in the mixture of your interactions together.

You and him met the summer before the ninth grade. From there on you knew him once classes began. Well ‘knew’ was a very loose term in this situation. The two of you were just teens, fifteen years old to be exact, in the same school, in the same home room, yet from different cliques.

His brown eyes drank you in like he was consuming every inch of your soul—it was invasive, intimidating, and exactly what you deserved. Deep down you were one hundred-percent sure of the fact.

“What?” you barked.

“Just remembering the good old time,” he smirked, “the ones where words remain your preferred and deadliest weapon.”

What transpired from that night was nothing compared to his cold gaze and punctured words.

Faint lights of that night sparkled into memory, years have passed but you remember every detail as if it was just yesterday.

The school bathroom was your least favorite place in the building, it was usually crowded with destined criminals, the stench was horrid and it was the obvious root of every ridiculous rumor to ever be birthed within the walls of Oakwood High School.

You leaned against the white ceramic sink, your back faced the stained plastic mirror as you faced him sitting on top of the toilet tank. He was the personification of trouble, the very synonym of everything you needed to stay away from.

The two of you came from two different worlds.

He was draped and wrapped up in a black hoodie, complemented by dark distressed jeans while his rugged and muddy boots stained found camp on the toilet seat, staining it beyond repair.

“What exactly is it that you need from me?” he asked, his tone wasn’t as stern or deep as you usually heard around the halls. There was a slight stutter; a falter.

“It’s more than one thing,” you exhaled, your eyes flickered between him and the stall just to the right of him, “. .that I need from you.”

He hummed, “go on.”

The sun trickled in through the foggy windows and it embellished very detail, every feature that you had never once before noticed on the boy before you. His eyes were giant orbs almost doe like, his lips were a deep taint of roseate the same one which dusted the apples of his cheeks. There was a certain delicate look behind the dark aura he cemented within himself.

You took paced steps in his direction feeling just a bit dizzy the closer you became.

Perhaps, it was that overbearing piss smell.

Or, perhaps, you just didn’t want to go through with this. You wanted to call this off but there was this fervent exhilaration burning just below your skin—you wanted to continue speaking to him, you wanted to envelop yourself in the softness of his lips.

But this wasn’t right but you couldn’t help the guidance of your feet, until finally you stood right before him.

Up close his eyes were prettier, shinier yet darker and you easily found yourself swimming in them engulfed in vastness simulating the bottomless sea.

He was everything you wanted and everything you needed to stay away from.

Two different people. Two different worlds.

“Are you going to tell me what you need?”

“I think,” your palm landed on his knee for support as you climbed onto the toilet seat taking a seat on his lap, “it’s much better if I show you.”

By now, and by the radicle of his reputation you expected for him to push you right off his life, for him to gargle the disgust in the back of his throat and regurgitate it right back on you. But he didn’t instead his gaze intently followed you every move, he probably already noticed your quivering figure hiding behind your confident facade.

There was no shaking off this nervousness, even but in your mind you reminded yourself that you were you and he was simply him.

“Show me what exactly?” he swallowed, his Adam's bobbed distinctively, “you know this is the first time you’ve ever uttered a single word in my direction.”

“I highly doubt that,” you hid your nervousness behind the security of your confident tone.

“It’s true,” he continued, “I bet you have never even noticed that my locker is directly across from yours.”

“Wait. .” You hooked your bait, hanging it low over his head attempting to reel him in once and for all, “do you spend your time in the halls looking at me?”

“I never said—“

Your palms found their way up to towards the back of his neck and you inched closer to his face vividly detailing the golden tone of his glowing skin.

You never noticed before, he was always an arm’s length away, which was probably your fault to begin with, but he was truly beautiful.

“You did kind of imply it.”

“I don’t think it works that way.”

“Does to me.”

His eyes remained on your lips as you tucked your lower lip under your upper teeth. There was an unreadable expression ignited behind his pupils, something you’ve never seen before, not behind the frigid gaze of your best friends and it certainly wasn’t present in the way your boyfriend looked at you either.

It held the comfort of tenderness and it wrapped you right into his warm embrace.

“You know, you keep averting my question.”

“Remind me, once again,” you smiled softly, “what is it that you wanted to know.”

“What do you want to show me?” you pursed out your lower lip before licking them agonizingly slowly to almost emphasize their plumpness. While coating them in a thin layer of the sheen shininess from your saliva. That put him in a trance, his eyes were locked on you intently. It’s working.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, your lips hovered right over his, the waft of your paced breath fanned one another. His mouth was enveloped with the cool aromatic scent of mint. You liked that a lot—it drew you in.

He froze against the white tiled wall behind him, his eyes were closed and he waited in anticipation of your lips finally meeting his. Instead, you took the liberty of snapping a mental picture. One you knew you would hang in the forefront of your mind for a very very long time, because after today, after the tones of both of your pink lips finally meshed together everything would go to shit.

And it would all be your fault.

“For someone who’s begging to kiss me you sure are taking your sweet time.”

The pads of your fingers brushed against his velvet lips as they spread wide depicting his smile, in turn you’d notice the way that very smile trickled to everyone of his features. From the dimples impaling his honey cheeks to his scrunched up nose and brows scrunched up together.

“I’m not begging,” you objected, laying against his chest—he was broad you could tell even under the dark clothes and he felt firm. All you wanted was to be cocooned in his heated touch.

Even in the scorching summer his warmth is.. a solace. You didn’t mind being consumed by it burning in the flames ignited by his touch.

“I asked. Just curious to know if you would even want to kiss me,” say no, run away, run away from me, you yelled at him in your head.

“Curious?”

You hummed, “So.. Do you wanna?”

“Kiss you?”

You hummed again, “I’m not asking for your hand in marriage. It’s just one kiss.”

“Just a kiss?” He asks a lot of questions.

“Okay,” he breathed.

There were many things you forbid yourself from submitting to at the expense of your insatious desires. This included consuming sweets past eight o’clock, drinking any type of soda, and even suppressing anything you’ve ever felt for anyone in return for the validation of others. Deep behind the rhythmic beating of your heart you knew this should’ve also included kissing him. You knew you should’ve backed off, said no, avoided him as if he was something you ran away from.

But you couldn’t help but be guided here by the pure delight of getting to have this for once. You wanted to be selfish and drown in those very desires you didn’t dare act on prior to today. Not under self-induced circumstances instead something you know could hurt him right after you pulled away from his lips.

You were a wretched person but all you think about, all you cared about was the way he inched closer towards you, rapidly closing the gap between the two of you. The only sounds bouncing off the walls were your needy pants and the thump thump which composed a song out of the beats of both of your racing hearts.

His head tilted slightly as he leaned in, his eyes explored every inch of your face taking in every depiction of your features. And no matter how many times you could attempt to hide it—he would know. He could clearly see the birth of the flames rampant behind the tones of your eyes.

He nudged his nose against yours, and your mouths fell together, soft and open. You closed your eyes instantly and they felt heavy, almost as if your eyelids were glued together. Though, you urged to open them, to live in every single second your lips remained connected with his, because you knew this wasn’t likely to happen again. Not after today. Not ever.

You couldn’t help but want to bear witness to the perfectness of your lips dancing against one another.

His mouth was silken, you found yourself melting into his body, into his lips, into his touch. Nobody had ever kissed you with the unspoken one passion he was.

No one. Certainly not your boyfriend.

You allowed yourself to become drunk under his trance and he fed the butterflies flapping their wings against the lining of your stomach rapidly.

You wanted to camp in the fondness of that moment forever, and ever. and ever. . .

Vacating the stool you stood by the large windows facing the parking lot behind the library. However, your attention was clutched by the sparkling stars, it was a form of a distraction. You wanted to stop thinking of him, his gaze seizing your figure tracing the outline of your legs, the curves and dips between your hips and waist and finally the sneaky peaks of your collar bones under your crop top.

His eyes were hard to read making it impossible to decipher whether he undressed you or condemned your being.

Though, you knew you deserved the latter.

“Words were never my weapon,” you whispered the fib hoping that you would believe it if you heard it outloud. It didn’t work.

He chuckled, “right. . your lips were the blades that pierced my heart and your words were the bullets that finished me off.”

“Jungkook. .” you trailed off.

“What?” he spat, “can’t handle the truth?”

Fuck, that hurt but you deserved it.

“Jungkook, just shut up.”

But his back was already turned towards you and his eyes no longer scanned you like you were the phrases typed on the pages of his favorite book.

“I’m so. .” you began but you just couldn’t get it out.

“There it is again,” Jungkook shook his head, clicking his tongue.

“That’s not what I meant,” you sighed, collecting your thoughts why did you always manage to say the wrong fucking thing, “I’m just trying to apologize to you for. . everything.”

“Right. . now?” he wore a puzzled expression, his eyes squinted with skepticism. Back in highschool Jungkok was quiet, shy and mysterious. He could’ve easily flown under the radar and lived his life in the seclusion of being a wallflower. But then you happened. You in that bathroom, on his lap with his lips on yours.

Even now, years later, you could still feel their phantom softness on yours.

You played with the loose thread on the hem of your top averting the scrutiny of the judgment in his eyes, “better late than never.”

“You put me through hell and I’m supposed to act as if all is forgiven. Today, because you can no longer live with that guilt?” there was a smirk plastered on his face while traces of venom laced his words.

“That’s not the reason why…”

“Then, why… Why?”

Words failed to roll off the tip of your tongue, and there was a cloud of shame hanging over your head but Jungkook was resentful and cold with his words and you knew that at this point your apology would do nothing to fix what was already broken. Nevertheless, you stood there like a child being scolded because the least you could do was be the receiver of his resentment.

“Are you looking for a shot at self redemption? To feel better about yourself? Or maybe the guilt really is eating you bit by bit. Whatever it may be I don’t forgive you and I never will. You wanna know why? Because unlike others I’m not convinced that people like you can change,” he continued, there was a rampant anger burning in his eyes now, “you look back on our time in high school and feel this sense of. . relief that you were who you were. There is not an ounce of your being that would go back and change things and if we were to turn back time you would still choose to be the viper who could go around injecting your venom into others at free will. I know you just want to leap over that stepping stone and prove to yourself that you have grown-up but you can’t fool me and you will not make an example out of me.”

“That’s not. .” you drifted off, tears swelled behind your eyelids but you blinked them away, “That’s not why I wanted to do Jungkook. .”

“No?” he asked.

“No,” you muttered through gritted teeth, mad at your past self for being a piece of shit, mad at him for not allowing you to speak, mad at life. Everything.

“You want me to forgive you?”

You remained quiet.

“Then, beg.”

“You know what?” You quickly wiped the tear that trickled down your heated cheek, “I actually did mean to apologize but I’m not sure that you actually deserve it anymore.”

They say what comes around goes around and you were certain this was the circle of justice you would forever be looped in the extent of your interactions with Jungkook because, this is pretty much how they always played out. He would never forgive you and you would never be able to form the right words to ease the pain of what you have caused. There wasn’t anything that you could do or say.

Things would always remain this way.

He turned away from you once again, “if I don’t deserve your apology that only proves you don’t deserve my forgiveness.”

You looked at the clock on the opposite wall, it was now finally thirty minutes past nine and you were due to go home. To be embraced by the comfort of your sheets, to bask in their warmth, something less chilling than his frigid words.

Grabbing your bag you slipped past him hoping that you would now stoop to becoming nothing but an insipid wallflower.

Entirely, invisible. That’s all you wanted to be.

Fucking invisible.

Your cloak of invisibility was short lived because as soon as you crossed the threshold to your dorm you were met with a crowded living room. Amongst the faceless features of the random strangers spread out in the tiny space you spotted a similar face belonging to the biggest pain in your ass and roommate adjacent, Hobi.

You trudge through the ocean of bodies, resisting the sway of the waves leading to bump to those in your way, simply wanting to get as far away from whatever this was as soon as possible. When Hobi’s eyes finally met yours you signaled him towards using your pointer finger—quickly, his smile dropped, beads of sweat adorned his temples and his head hung low.

A party on a Monday was… Definitely, Hobiesque.

With paced strides he stumbled towards you following you down the small corridor and into your room. Hobi’s eyes hung low, the buttons on his shirt hung open all the way down to the pit of his stomach, his cheeks were red and puffy, his hair the right amount of disheveled, and he had a tight grasp on a nearly empty red solo cup (it definitely didn’t look like it was his first or last drink). The lights were dimmed but even under the shitty lighting there was a bright glimmer outlining his figure.

“Now, before we begin this intervention,” his words were a bit slurred, “I had a really shitty day.”

“Yeah, that makes two of us,” you hung your bag on the hook behind the door and threw your keys on the desk.

He slumped down on your bed and stared up at the ceiling with a blank expression—you weren’t sure if the shift in his usual energetic charisma was due to the alcohol but you didn’t like it. You were so used to seeing his heart shaped lips spread into wide curves showcasing the amiability of his colorful personality.

“Okay, which one of us should go first?” he asked.

“Don’t you have a party to get back to?” you sat by the pillows on the bed, your back leaning against the headboard, your legs pressed up against your chest as you laid your head on your knees.

“I’ll get back in a minute,” he replied nonchalantly, “just tell me about your day.”

Hobi laid his head closer to your legs, quickly you found your fingers combing through the dark strands with a thin layer of sweat. There was a cool draft slipping in the room through the window left slightly ajar. The bittersweet flashes of your time in that library behind the main desk played back in your mind.

“I saw… spoke to Jungkook tonight,” your voice was soft, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear. You and Hobi have been friends since your senior year in school and while he wasn’t there for the horrid days of your freshman year tyranny you confessed to everything you had done during those dark days—everything that happened with Jungkook.

“Spoke?”

You nodded.

“You two have the same work study you’ve spoken to each other before right?”

“Yeah, but our conversations are always reduced to nonsensical banter. He pushes my buttons and I push his, sometimes we even land a few jabs at each other when the other isn’t looking but today,” you felt at ease sitting there in Hobi’s company, the only noise surrounding the two of you came from the booming of the loudspeaker stationed in the living room, “…it was personal.”

“How personal?” he continued peering up at you with idle eyes.

“I tried to apologize for, well you know.. everything,” you sighed, “and things didn’t really go as planned. Stupid of me I know.”

“Definitely, not stupid. You tried to make things right. There’s no harm in that,” his thumb rubbed your hand softly as it wrapped around your shins.

“There was definitely a lot of harm done.”

“You’re right,” he mumbled, “what you did is not justified, but all that matters is that you are trying to make things right and we can only hope he is willing to forgive.”

Jungkook’s vicious words played on a continuous loop in your head. He was not willing to forgive. He never would be and sincerely you couldn’t blame him for him.

This guilt.

It will eat you alive and as a result you will experience a slow and excruciating death. A well deserved demise and one that became written in the stars for you the moment you kissed him in that fucking bathroom.

Still, a timid smile slowly creeped on your lips. Hobi’s hopefulness is your safety net, the only thing you could ever need to keep pushing forward.

“Enough about me and my self-inflicted issues,” you cleared your throat, “what’s got you so down today, sunshine?”

“We broke up.”

You laid beside him on your bed, reaching down taking his hands into yours hoping he’d feel the same deal of comfort you do by him.

“What happened?” you offered.

“I was in my dance practice and he—“ he paused, “he just fucking texted me. Said he couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Did something happen before all of this?”

“We’ve been on a bumpy road lately,” he hesitated before continuing—you guessed it was because he was trying to structure his thoughts, “two dancers dating bring a conflict of interest into a relationship.”

“Please tell me you guys aren’t just fighting over your choreography.”

He remained silent before continuing.

“You two are going to send me into cardiac arrest,” you shook your head, “I need details, Jung.”

“Don’t call me, Jung,” Hobi poked out his lower lip, frowning, “makes me feel like I’m in trouble.”

“I can’t be mad at you when you’re so adorably tipsy,” you pinched his rosey cheeks.

“Stoooop,” he swatted your hand away from his face while stretching out the letter ‘O,’ “I’m being serious though. I think it’s really over between Jimin and I, forreal this time.”

“You’ve said that every other time the two of you have broken up over dance.”

“Right. .” he yawned, cozying up under your sheets while his eyes began to close.

“Oh, no,” you smacked him upside the head with one of your cushions, “get up and go host your little party.”

He brushed it off turning before turning away from you, his soft snores now a remix to the music playing just outside of your door, “who the fuck throws a party on a Monday. . Hoseok, get up!”

“I know, you’re so irresponsible for letting me throw a party on a weekday.”

“Bitch.”

As it turns out, kicking people an hour after a party had started wasn’t as easy as it looked. Leaning against the front door you finally came face to face with the mess left behind. The music still played, though, much lower now and there was an array of empty beer cans, red solo cups and other waste decorating your living room.

It was as if you were standing in front of the mirror looking back at yourself, you were nothing but a mess of a human being. It was uncanny.

Although, this mess you could clean, and you would, you weren’t sure if Jungkook would ever allow you to pick up all of those broken pieces that you had shattered all of those years ago.

For what it’s worth you really wanted to try. You wanted to make things right.

It is now Tuesday and the weather is horrid.

The last time you checked, the forecast called for scattered showers and mostly cloudy days. But, now it’s one in the afternoon and as you settle down on the bench by your bay window overlooking the narrow street, the sky was overtaken by the torrent clouds weeping viciously accompanied by the occasional strikes of loud thunder.

Usually, when the weather looked as shitty as you felt you opted for staying home and becoming enveloped in the comfort and warmth of your sheets, today would have been no different but of course luck is never present in the deck of cards paving your life, also having an irresponsible roommate usually doesn’t help in any way.

“Please, don’t forget my ginger ale,” he coughed dramatically, running his hand through his disheveled hair, “I can’t believe I feel like literal shit.”

“You can’t believe it?” You sneered, “you drank half of your alcohol supply before I even made it home and the party had only been on for like thirty minutes.”

“Fuck, I did that. Didn’t I?”

“You did,” you playfully yanked your covers off his body, “you drunk fuck.”

“That was my nickname in highschool,” he smiled.

“It was,” you zipped up your rain jacket and grabbed the umbrella sitting on your desk, “now go take a hot bath and don’t throw any more parties while I’m gone.”

You heard his infectious giggles as you closed the front door behind you. The two of you lived on the third floor so the walk down the stairs to the lobby wasn’t too unbearable. Through the clear doors of the main entrance in the rain you saw how the downpour fogged up the path ahead. Namseok’s Kitchen is only a five minute walk, you can do this.

Walking out you opened your umbrella and stood still for just one minute paralized by the pitter patter of the droplets meeting your umbrella.

It was the beat to a dreadful song you knew too well.

You pushed past the blue metal doors of the gymnasium. Your nostrils are no longer consumed by the smell of sweat and dirty laundry and the muffled conjunction of laughter, voices, bouncing balls, and whistles died out the minute the door closed behind you.

Gym class was a drag and there was truly nothing worse than an hour long class period with sweaty kids in such a tiny space. Usually, you opted for walking on the track for the duration of class but that option became futile the moment it began to pour an hour ago.

In fact it was still raining, but you stood under the navy awning covering you from becoming soaked. Your eyes are closed and you lean against the red brick wall inhaling the scent of petrichor, the resulting smell of the parched earth just as the pouring rain continues to beat anything standing right below it. The sweet aromas seeped into the air sweeping past your nose with the soft breeze that blew by.

It was as if the earth had exhaled, emanating its distinct fragrance from millions of pinpoints all at once. Inside that smell, the seconds slowed and each moment seemed to dilute. It filled you with relief.

Then, suddenly the remnants of your heaven became blurred and the walls holding up the roofs began to tumble down and with it a whiff of nicotine became tangled in your nose.

Your eyes shot open and there he was, Jungkook. The boy you’d kissed a week ago in the boy’s bathroom.

“Cigarettes are bad for you, you know..” You felt a knot in the pit of your stomach as soon as he turned. You heard what happened to him but you hadn’t gotten around to seeing him yet, you’d been avoiding him.

“Yeah, I keep thinking I’ll quit and I can’t seem to make it past a couple of hours,” he was honest and he smiled, two characteristics you thought had died the moment your boyfriend’s fist met his face. He still had a soft purple bruise under his eye to prove it.

“You need something else to get your mind off of it.”

He threw the butt of the cigarette on the ground and stepped on it to put it out and leaned right beside you on the wall. Up close you saw a deep gash on the apples of his cheek, it was still red but stitched up.

“I know.”

“Are you really littering right now?” You eyed the discarded smoke under the tip of his chunky combat boots.

“Right, sorry miss president of ‘i love earth’ or whatever,” he bent over, picking it up and placing it in the pocket of black jeans, similar to the ones he wore that day minus the rips around the thighs.

“It’s actually called, ‘advocates for planet earth’ for your information.”

“I love earth sounds better,” he shrugged, “should consider the name change.”

“I’ll bring it up in our next meeting.”

“I’m surprised,” Jungkook began, his eyebrows furrowed together and you could tell he was in a mental battle to continue, “that he lets you join cute little nerdy clubs.”

Twenty minutes before you entered the boys bathroom last Thursday, you and your friends sat in the library during study hall, your homework long forgotten and with continued complaints of loud talking all of you had settled for a game of quiet dare or die.

The set-up was easy.

There were two piles out in-front of you, one die, one dare. The object of the game created by your friends was to choose a dare and record yourself completing it before the end of the school day or else you’d have to do something even more embarrassing from the die pile.

Your dare was to graffiti the side of the school. A bit excessive, compared to the other ones which only called for kissing each other, going against school dress code for the rest of the day or skipping the last period.

Ditching the crumpled up paper you chose a die deciding that whatever it was at least it probably wouldn’t come at the expense of being expelled.

‘Kiss Jeon Jungkook (loser)’ it read.

You could’ve said no but you didn’t. Instead you fed into the taunts of the very boy you’d find your eyes lingering after. The same boy who occupied your thoughts day and night, the same one who kissed you like no one else has and whose touch (though, brief)—permanently marked a trail of goosebumps only he could procure.

“He doesn’t control me, Jungkook.”

“He doesn’t,” Jungkook nodded, registering every gravity of your words which felt heavy on his tongue. If your boyfriend didn’t control you then that meant you had also dealt a hand at the countinuously fucked-up encounters between him and your boyfriend. But this also finally cemented the idea that you had kissed him willingly; you saw it in the way his eyes sparkled even when the sun had been hibernating for the duration of the day.

He seemed to have finally realized that both of those could be true. That love and pain could dance together hand in hand when it came to the two of you.

Your eyes scanned his chocolate ones, slowly reaching up using the pads of your finger to caress his cheek. They were full and warm and you were careful not to inch too close to the purple and green-ish spot under his eye.

“Will you believe me if I tell you something?”

“Tell me.”

“I really did enjoy that day.” You clarified, “our kiss despite what I said afterwards.”

He chuckled, “hopefully saying me too doesn’t get me another black eye.”

The tightness in your chest squeezed tighter and immediately you felt like you couldn’t breathe. When Jungkook was around you felt as if your heart and mind collided against each other and you were left in a daze, castaway in your own body and mind. Like, right now, your brain urged you to walk away and get as far away as possible from him but your heart called out to him and down that same path it set out a route leading to his silken lips.

Your heart beat to a deep crescendo nearly synching to the sound of the beating rain against the awning just overhead.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to class?”

Snapping out of your daydream you replied, “uh, yeah, I should get back.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you around.”

Jungkook smiled, “I’ll see you around.”

The hefty winds blew your umbrella yet you remained in the same exact spot just a couple of feet away from the entrance to the dorm building. You were drenched from head to toe causing your gray sweats and hoodie to stick to you all while they weighed you down. Although you were inclined to move away from the droplets adorning your figure, your legs just would not submit to the command.

The smell, the dark skies, and the feeling of the rain on your skin all ignited a sense of familiarity, contentment yet melancholiness.

There were too many feelings jumbled into one.

“If you stand here, like this, you’ll end up sick.”

You hadn’t realized your eyes were closed until the moment his voice overshadowed the roaring screams of the pouring rain. Jungkook’s outfit mimicked yours slightly but even you could admit he looked much better than you. He wore gray sweats and a gray hoodie draped off his shoulder over a white wife beater. His tattoos peeked through outlining the beginning of the sleeve following the length of his extremity down to his fingers.

He’s breathtaking, he’s always been.

“I wasn’t aware that my well-being was any of your concern.”

Jungkook combed his slender digits through his jet black hair inching closer to you until his umbrella covered the both of you, “it doesn’t,” he said, “ I just figured you were either drunk or too much of an idiot to be out in this storm.”

“Well, in that case that makes us two idiots standing out in this weather.”

“I was not out. I’m not crazy,” he cleared his throat, “I just so happen to see you through my dorm window.”

He came down for you, “yet here you are now.”

“Need I remind you, if I wasn’t, you’d still be out here getting soaked.”

“Soaked,” you snickered.

“Grow up,” his voice was laced with annoyance but the rose tint on his cheeks told you everything you needed to know.

“Where did my umbrella even go?”

He pointed to your feet where your Converse swam in a puddle and there was your unbrella was looking as fucked up as ever. Immediately, you made a mental note to never buy umbrellas at the dollar store ever again. You supposed that’s the only thing you were good at; making one wrong decision after the other.

You huffed, “ah, I’m okay. It’s okay, I got it from here.”

“Were you going somewhere?”

“You don’t have to help me, Jungkook,” you didn’t dare look at him because Jungkook was good at one thing, it was peeling back at your layers with his piercing eyes. He made you feel vulnerable—bare. And you always feared the psychedelic enchantment wiring in your brain whenever he looked in your direction.

Back then that was your excuse for not helping him, for not being a better human being. It was a shitty excuse, you know that now but you always feared your willingness to succumb to your hearts’ cries.

You feared falling into him—falling for him.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” He laughed, “just lead the way. I have nothing better to do anyway.”

“I was just going down the street to Namseok’s Kitchen to get Hobi some chicken noodle soup. He isn’t feeling too well this morning.”

“That’s only a five minute walk,” he nodded toward the path ahead, “Let’s go.”

Five minutes felt like an eternity as the two of you walked towards your destination in utter silence. The street was pretty empty—only Jungkook, yourself and the rain remained. . And your thoughts, of course. They ran at record speed as you tried to relive every single moment from your past, you know; divulging in all the good times and wanting to fix every fucked up thing you’ve ever done.

If only you could turn back time you’d make things right.

In an attempt to skip another puddle, to prevent your socks from becoming sodden you accidentally moved closer to Jungkook and your elbow brushed against his. The feeling wasn’t foreign to you and it transported you to those nights, all of those moment when your bodies were so close you could smell the soap he’d used that morning, cardamom and vanilla, the scent still lingered around in your nose and you wondered if you were just hallucinating or if he actually still used the same soap.

“While you order I’ll get us something hot,” he walked you to the glass door of the small diner, then turned towards the coffee shop across the street.

“Jungkook!” You called out and he looked back in your direction, “Hold on,” you dug in your pocket reaching for a ten dollar bill, “Here.”

“Just worry about the soup and get one for yourself. Your body will thank you tomorrow morning,” he shouted back.

He disappeared into the shop as cars sped by in his shadow. You almost didn’t believe he was just right there. With you. Was he?

The bell on top of the door chimed as you walked into the restaurant, the squishing sound of your drenched shoes against the white tile bounced off of the baby blue walls. As you walked closer to the counter you wrapped yourself in a tight embrace to provide yourself with some warmth against the blasted AC. The place has always been light on decoration and made to feel more homey than anything else. There was a faux wall with photographs of customers hanging from loose thread, next to that there was a small circular table where the polaroid and its film was stationed. The remaining walls held all sorts of artworks in different shades of azure from Seokjin’s boyfriend, and Hobi’s brother, Namjoon. Towards the front was your favorite place, a bench stationed in-front of the floor to ceiling glass window.

Namjoon approached the register, “oh no, what the fuck did he do now?”

“He threw a party and woke up sick as fuck. I was just coming to get him some soup. He’s said he would puke anything else.”

“And that little shit made you walk?” Seokjin walked up behind Joon taking a seat on the stool beside him. “Look at you…” he motioned towards you and you took a look at yourself in the circular mirror hung behind the two guys, a fucking mess, “you’re all wet. Did he make you come here alone?”

Before you even had the chance to answer Jinnie continued, “I’m going to kill him. You hear me?” He turned towards his boyfriend, “I am going to kill your brother.”

Joon mumbled, “I might just join you.”

“Before your two go on a killing spree…” you leaned against the wooden surface of the counter, “I kind of offered because I felt bad for his dumbass.”

“He still let you come all the way down here in this weather and that is enough to plan a crime,” Seokjin hissed, “Joonie will you get her a towel from the back?”

Joon disappeared behind the beaded curtain.

“Okay, so one soup for the idiot and one for you?”

You nodded, “yes, chicken noodle soup please. Can you make that three though?”

“Who’s the third one for?” He raised an eyebrow staring you down like you had an intimate secret you were keeping from him. Well, technically, you were keeping some things to yourself but you weren’t lying just withholding the truth. It wasn’t the same thing.

“It’s for the person who accompanied me here today.”

“And who is that?” Joon asked, they were both overprotective, like older brothers, “you only have one friend and unfortunately I am related to him.”

“Not a friend. . Just someone I know.”

They hummed in unison exchanging suspecting looks between one another. Then, the bell on top of the door chimed once again, the same way it did when you walked in. You didn’t need to look to know who it was, his scent gave him away immediately.

“Hi, welcome to Namseok’s kitchen,” Jin greeted him.

“Hey,” he walked deeper into the restaurant until he finally stood right next to you as you continued drying off, “here. I got us lemongrass tea. I didn’t know what you like so I figured I get you the same as me.”

Grabbing the to-go cup from his hand, you reply, “yeah, I like lemongrass tea.”

You took a sip, basking in the heat of the piping hot liquid as it traveled down your throat and into your tummy. A tired whimper escaped your lips, as you became entirely immersed in the flavors of the lemony taste exploding on your tongue. There was silence around you but you could feel three sets of eyes on you and instantaneously your eyes shot open.

“I almost forgot Jin, Joon, this is Jungkook. Jungkook, this is Jin and Joon, Hobi’s brother and brother in law.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Jinnie smiled in his direction and Joon followed suit, “Jungkook..” He repeated, “why does your name sound so familiar?”

“I went to highschool with Hobi and..” he pointed at you, avoiding even the utterances of your name. There was no disgust lingering in his face but then again his expression was unreadable and you were sure he was masking his true feelings at the expense of the two men in front of you.

“I knew it,” he clasped his hands together but as soon as you saw the thoughts wiring in his head and connecting together you shook your head to prevent him from continuing. Thankfully, he understood immediately, “yeah, I thought I had seen you before.”

Jungkook also connected the dots because Jin hadn’t been in high school at the same time he was. Jinnie was three years older than you guys were and by the time he and Hobi had moved into town Seokjin had already graduated. But he was now aware that you had mentioned him in passing—now he knew that you had to have mentioned something about that time.

“I’m going to go check on those soups,” Jin announced walking back towards the kitchen, “Joon, come on join me.”

You walked past Jungkook with the brown cup held tightly in your grasp before taking a seat on the bench by the front window. The storm still ran rampant outside and the streets remained barren. Jungkook sat two tables down, near the wall, far away from you.

“Do I owe you anything for the tea?” You mumbled holding up the cup in his direction.

“I told you to not worry about it..”

“I didn’t know Seokjin would bring that up,” you didn’t look at him, eyes lulled by your dusty white converse, “I didn’t know he would remember you.”

“Just forget about it,” he shook his head, “you don’t need to explain.”

“No, I feel like I do.”

“You don’t.”

“Jungkook, please let me,” your eyes watered and your voice faltered.

He sighed, taking a small sip of the tea before continuing, “please don’t explain. I don’t need an explanation. I have buried it all, it still lives in my head but it’s buried and I don’t need to resurrect the tsunami of emotions that comes along with that..” he pointed at his temples, “it’s still here but please do not awaken them. I don’t want to brush the brush off of those memories.”

You two were the only people in the shop but you knew Joon and Jin were behind one of the walls eavesdropping. It was silent and the only noise in the small space was the whirring of the AC.

“Are our good memories also buried somewhere?” You knew better than to ask but you needed to know.

“I put those to rest first,” he admitted and your heart sank, “those memories, although good, were an incitement to everything else that lingered right behind. I had to get rid of those memories to get rid of everything else.”

“Okay,” tears were beginning to swell up in the corners of your eyes and you tried your best to blink them away, “yeah, that’s okay. I understand why you had to do that.”

“I’m sorr—” Jungkook began.

“Don’t, please, you’re not the one who should be apologizing to me. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you do that.”

The bell at the front desk chimed, ripping your attention away from Jungkook. Seokjin stood behind the counter holding two paper bags, “order’s up.”

Walking up you thanked him and grabbed the bags, “thanks. I’ll have Hobi venmo you for this.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” he smiled softly, “free lunches till you guys graduate remember. That goes for you too now, Jungkook.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” he handed him the smaller bag, “I mean it. I better see you around here more often.”

“Thank you,” he smiled brightly, the kind of smile you hadn’t seen him wear in years. It was radiant and lit up his face with warmth. The indents on his cheek were deep and they framed his rose lips like they were a work of art. Not even the silver hoop piercing his bottom lip shone as brightly as he did when he smiled. You almost forgot how good it looked on him and you couldn’t help but stand there and admire him taking mental pictures to keep forever.

He deserves someone better. Someone who’s going to make him smile like that until the end of time. Someone who wasn’t you.

“And thank you for coming along with her since Hobi couldn’t.”

“It’s no problem.”

“I would offer you guys a ride back home but Jin and I walked to work today. Guess we didn’t really think things through either.”

“It’s okay, Joon,” you zipped up your rain coat and pulled the hood over your head, “it’s only a five minute walk back.”

After thanking Jin and Joon, the two of you exited the store and cut in through the alley way before landing on the road leading back to the dorms. Once again, the two of you stood dangerously close to one another radiating off each other’s body heat and before you knew it the building came into view and Jungkook led you up the walkway leading you to the main door. You didn’t want to let him go. You didn’t want him to leave you but it’s not like you could actually say that.

You were a mere burden jumbled into bad memories and the worst years of his life.

“Thank you for coming along,” you pushed the thoughts although you don’t think you could ever really get rid of them.

“No thanks needed. I couldn’t let you take the trip on your own, especially not in this weather.”

He couldn’t let you. Your heart began to race as you tried to keep yourself from reading too much into his words. They probably didn’t mean anything… But what if he still cared? What if Jungkook still cared about you?

“See you around.” He nodded before heading off in the direction of his dorm.

I shouldn’t have said anything.

You turned around, but Jungkook was no longer near. His back was turned in your direction as he continued trotting down the sidewalk. Great! Now you’re hearing voices, after reaching for the metal door handle the voices reappeared.

Our memories are flavored in bitterness but I still can’t get her off my mind.

Jungkook was gone.

The thing about rumors is that they spread like wildfires and no matter how hard you work to extinguish that fire it is always too little too late. That’s how you felt as soon as you crossed the threshold from the bathroom and into the congested hallways. Everyones prying eyes read you so intently condemning you for the hypocrisy of allowing someone like Jungkook to permanently ink his lips on yours. The passionate dance the two of you composed left behind the imprints of his lips as he tattooed your skin with each one of the pecks he left behind.

Your phone buzzed in the back pocket of your jeans. You pulled it out, unlocking it, quickly seeing the photo your friend had snuck of you on his lap pop up. Your mouths devour one another and your bodies pressed together closely while your hand rests on his shoulder.

You wanted to frame it—live in the pixels of that picture forever.

‘Death complete bitch.’ Your best friend’s text read below the photo, ‘I can’t believe you actually kissed him.’

‘I can’t believe I did it either.”

‘What was it like?’

The worst part about it is that it had to come to an end. Your mind traveled an hour back and you recall the velvet feel of his lips as they moved against yours mimicking the softness of clouds. At the sametime his tongue was saccharine tasting of the sweetness of strawberries and maple syrup leading you to guess he had either waffles or pancakes for breakfast that morning.

All you wanted was to run back into that bathroom.

‘Nothing memorable. Just glad it’s over.’

‘Don’t worry you won’t ever have to kiss him again.’

Yeah, that was the fucking problem. You wanted to kiss him again, preferably you wanted to kiss him forever.

‘Yeah, thankfully.’

You didn’t know when that kill switch that made you a complete and utter bitch was flipped on, but all you remember were those calamitous days when you didn’t really know who you were and who you were meant to be. Those days were marked with pen squiggles, they were blurred and you chose to permanently turn the light off and lock the door behind you in that section of your brain.

Middle school was rough to say the least. But that was the beginning of your novel and you knew perfectly well who you were now.

You had the friends you did because they made you look good, you had the clothes you did because you had a reputation to uphold and you had the boyfriend you did because someone like you is supposed to be with someone like him. Those were the simple unspoken rules of high school and at first they were easy to follow until they weren’t.

Everything was simple until that summer before freshman year. The day you visited the park near your house and you spotted him, with his chunky black boots and signature black outfit matching his jet black hair. The two of you were only fifteen then but he already had a tattoo on his wrist peeking out of the sleeve of his crewneck, back then he didn’t have his lip piercing—not yet at least.

“I thought you only hung out in abandoned buildings and sketchy alley ways,” you remembered telling him that and the two of you spent hours on those swings talking the afternoon away. Back then, you learned Jungkook was a gentle giant disguised in an intimidating disguise. He was thoughtful in the way he looked at life and dreamt about the future, he was caring in the way that he spoke about nature, tattoos, music and everything else he held a deep passion for and lastly, he was attentive in the way he listened to you thoroughly drinking in every detail you had shared.

That was the Jungkook that made you fall for him in the blink of an eye but back then you didn’t know who he was and you were certainly not made aware of how things would end up.

The bell dismissing you from your last period class snapped you right out of your thoughts and you dashed out the door of the classroom wanting nothing more than to escape home and be left alone to bask in your thoughts.

“There’s a fight outside!” a few students called out running past you.

“Let’s go!” someone else yelled across the hallway.

You were nervous to ask but you did anyway, “fight? Who’s fighting?”

“Your boyfriend’s fighting someone,” a girl you didn’t quite recognize replied, “Jungkook, or something like that I think.”

By the time you made it to the parking lot there was already a crowd of people forming a circle around both boys. Jungkook held his bloody nose while your boyfriend clenched and unclenched his hand, likely to relieve the pain of hitting Jungkook. You ran in their direction but as you neared them you saw as the boy you called yours landed another punch on Jungkook’s face causing him to fall back on the concrete.

He didn’t fight back, didn’t even respond to the other boy’s insult. He just sat on the ground holding his face waiting for it all to be over.

“Hey,” you finally reached him, shoving him back to prevent another callous attack on the boy behind you, “what the fuck are you doing?”

“I saw the fucking picture,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

“The girls and I played a game of dare or death,” you explained, “it was only part of the death I had to complete. It didn’t mean anything.”

He lunged towards you and poked at your chest, “you still kissed him.”

The crowd went silent and your boyfriend’s anger highlighted the very thing you’d intended to place under lock and key—your pretty little secret no longer a secret or even pretty for that matter. You felt light headed and you weren’t sure if it was the punishing rays of the sun or the mental strain this was all causing.

You didn’t regret that kiss; you never would but you also thought that picture would stay between you and your friends.

A wave of murmurs swayed all around you and you knew your reputation was descending by the second.

You didn’t dare look at Jungkook, you knew his hypnotizing dark eyes would make you crumble. Seeing him like that. . The way he did all helpless and unprotected would compel you to care for him and cradle him in your arms until nothing or no one else could hurt him, “It meant nothing. Okay?” You heaved, “It meant nothing.”

Instead, you were dragged away from the boy your heart screamed out for.

Fuck, do I still like her?

Just shut up, Jungkook. It’s too early for this.

I shouldn’t be asking myself that. Ever.

Presently, you’ve gotten to know Jungkook for being reserved and fairly quiet, similar to how he was in high school except back then he actually spoke to you. But now, he is quiet and he doesn’t bother uttering a single word in your direction. The only times he ever addresses you is when he throws continuous jabs at you, landing every single one—he spews spiteful words of retaliation as a result of the shitty person were years ago and although you knew it was well-deserved that didn’t mean it hurt any less. Unlike his recently reserved outer shell, you quickly learned Jungkook’s mind traveled at the speed of light and for two days now, you could hear the constant battles of thoughts breaking out in his head.

Words crashed against each other; phrases were left abandoned half way through and ideas were left unfulfilled.

You groaned smacking your silk pillow over your face, your mind was exhausted on overdrive and increasingly overheating all because Jungkook couldn’t ease his thoughts and empty his mind at five in the fucking morning. Who. . Thinks this much at such ungodly hours of the morning, the sun isn’t even up yet.

The scattered clouds invaded the dark blue sky dusted in shades of purple.

Does she think of me?

I do.

Did she ever feel what I felt when we kissed?

I did—I do. I still feel it. Similar to how the sun feels on you on a hot summer day, the sparks on their ignited route as they traveled through every single inch of your skin setting it alight even today. You felt it then and you could feel it now.

Finally, his thoughts ceased and you guessed he’d probably drifted off into a slumber. He probably looked so peaceful you thought, grabbing one of your extra cushions, laid on your side and placed it in between your legs like a mommy pillow. Sleep came knocking on your door and your eyes began to feel heavy.

Jungkook probably looked like an angel as he slept. You could picture him laying in a sea of his messy sheets against his golden tone.

By the time you woke up once again, it was nine in the morning and the sun peeking in through the windows ripped you right out of your sleep.

Your room door burst open, “hey! I knew you’d be awake. What do you have planned for the day?” Hobi took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“Whatever happened to knocking? I could’ve been naked you know..”

“We’ve seen each other naked plenty of times.”

“Fair enough,” you laid facing the ceiling, “I wasn’t going to do much today just going to check Mr. Kim’s list. He posted it on the bulletin outside his class for our upcoming project.”

“Do you want me to make you something to eat before I go?”

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

He planted a soft kiss on your forehead, “I’ll be in the dance studio. You wanna come see me later?” His heart-shaped lips did very little to cover his pearly whites as he grinned, “I’ll give the front desk your name so they can let you up when you get there.”

“Please, don’t forget like last time or I’ll have to fight someone for real this time,” you said.

“Won’t,” he called out as he strutted towards the front door, “I promise. See you later.” You heard the door open and shut before you began falling asleep once again but the peace and quiet was very short lived because you heard him again.

What did I even dream about?

You wondered the same. Was he the type to dream up cute scenarios in that pretty head of his as he drifted off for the night? Did your face invade his mind in the late hours of the night? You hope you did.

Your name echoed in the basis of his mind followed by the emission of thunderous groans.

He seemed. . frustrated.

Ah, fuck. Yes, Jungkook just imagine it’s her.

The image in your head was impure as soon as you finally realized what Jungkook was actually doing. You’d imagined his hand disappearing under the base of the pyramid forming through his duvet. Stroking himself slowly, his head lolled back against his headboard, sweat glistening on his chest and forehead, while his eyes fluttered closed as his eyelashes batting away all reminders of reality.

I want her touch—need it. So bad.

You’d become too enthralled in the symphony of Jungkook’s whimpers that you hadn’t really noticed the death grip you had on your bed sheets as your knuckles turned white and the way your legs rubbed against each other in a desperate plea for some friction.

This was private. Jungkook needed privacy and while your mind opened a portal which prevented that, the best thing you could do was ignore him and the sensual persuasion laced in his bedroom voice, no matter how desperately he called out for you, it wasn’t right.

Ignore.

God, I would fuck her so good.

Think of something else.

With my cock buried deep inside of her. Fucking her into my mattress until she’s shaking with the overbearing stimulation of pleasure. Until, even her own name becomes a mere afterthought.

You grabbed your phone from the night stand but your lame attempt at a ‘distraction’ was useless. His words were addictive and you were already soaked right through your panties. Your sheets began sticking to your sweaty skin while Jungkook’s ardent words continued heating you up.

She would take me so well. Fuck!

A shower! That’s what you’d do—just take a cold cold shower to ease those thoughts and shut him out until he finally finishes.

You hissed as the hard pressure of frigid water hit your body from the shower head, even this wasn’t enough to mask the way your body shuddered as Jungkook continued. It was even more enticing that after everything—after his hostile gazes and cold words your face was in the forefront of his brain as he touched himself.

His alluring thoughts kept on playing one after the other and your cunt became the victim crying out to him with patterned pleas he would never hear. Your juices strolled down your inner thigh mixed in with the streaks of water and you could no longer bear the desperate thumps of aching cunt. You were going mad, honestly his stamina and self control were all to blame. The combination was torturous.

While you weren’t one hundred-percent sure of what he was doing the way his thoughts became sporadic weathering winds of pleasure and then tranquility. It was a cycle, he would be on the verge of succumbing to his peak and then all of the sudden he would stop. Before beginning once again and again and again.

The viciousness of his desire lasted until right around the time you turned the shower off and you couldn’t tell if for the past twenty minutes you had been in your own personal heaven or hell.

I hate how much I still want her.

I hate that I can’t have her.

You can have me, Jungkook. You can have me now, tomorrow and forever.

The heat was overbearing and you could feel the way your tank became soaked with sweat and the thin fabric stuck to your body. You heaved as you pushed open the glass door into the English building. Mr. Kim’s room was on the third floor and the bulletin board was stationed right next to his door. After opting out of climbing three flights of stairs you ride the elevator up and exit out to look at the posted partners for Mr. Kim’s upcoming project. Walking down the main hall you turn left and there it is—there he is.

The simplicity of his outfit was composed of a plain white tee, gray sweat shorts, and over the ankle white socks tucked into black slides. The colorful ink adorning his skin still peaked under the sleeve of his shirt, his black wavy hair rested on the nape of his neck.

The hallways were completely empty and his back still faced you so you kind of just stood there unsure of what to say or do. I mean you’d heard him masturbating just a few hours ago and while you truly did not mind even the slightest you weren’t quite sure how to even interact with him moving forward. While he seemed to despise you for the events that unfolded back in high school this morning was a complete change of events. His voice was dipped in sex as he moaned your name until he finally came.

God, why was it so hot in here? Is the AC really off mid-summertime?

“Hey,” his doe eyes stared at you, studying your off-putting exterior. Your eyes were blown wide, your tank was still soaked with sweat and you just stood there ogling him, “are you okay?”

He stepped towards you with worrisome eyes. ‘Oh yes Jungkook, I’m okay. I’m just picturing the way your hand climbs up and down the length of your dick, head tilted back, mouth slightly opened as groans form at the root of your throat. You know, the way you probably looked this morning.’

Instead you decided on a soft, “I’m okay.”

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” he placed his hand on your shoulder and you nearly fainted at the intense heat emitted from his skin to yours, “here, sit down,” he guided you to one of the lounge chairs sat opposite Mr. Kim’s class, “have you drank anything today?”

How could you kindly explain that was not the kind of thirst you were looking to quench.

“No. .” you shook your head.

“Okay, okay,” he grabbed a water bottle from the black backpack sitting at his feet. You hadn’t even noticed it before, you had been so focused on him the entire time, “here drink some.”

The bottle was half empty meaning his lips were on it and now your lips would be on it too. This wasn’t really what you meant when you said you wanted to feel his lips on yours but you didn’t really mind either.

“Yeah, sorry, I got thirsty on the way here,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I can get you one from the vending machine.”

You must’ve been looking at the bottle resting in his grasp like an idiot, “no, it’s okay Jungkook,” you rested your palm on top of his hand, “it’s not like we haven’t kissed before right?”

His eyes turned a shade darker than their usual brown and he cleared his throat, letting go of the water bottle right into your grip, “right.” he stepped back as if you were a cactus ready to nick him with one of your spines, “I was looking at the list for Mr. Kim’s class and we are partnered together with Jimin for the project.”

“Okay, should we meet at my place tonight or tomorrow? This is due this Monday,” you took a sip of the water tasting the remnants of Jungkook’s strawberry chapstick left behind on the rim.

“I have a basketball tournament due tonight but we can meet tomorrow if you’d like.”

“Tomorrow,” you repeated, “any time?”

“After four?”

“See you then.”

For the first time in forever Hoseok had actually left your name at the front desk of the studio on campus. After being left up you walked in through the double doors of the dance studio where the music blasted at highest volume and your best friend’s shoes squeaked against the shiny wooden floor as he moved throughout the room swiftly executing his choreography with perfection. Hobi was a force to be reckoned with and dance was his element.

“You’re here,” his professional and focused aura peeled back as soon as he saw you enter the room, “I need a break anyway.”

You sat on the floor with your back resting against the wall of mirrors.

“I’m here and I cannot believe I witnessed such perfection,” you clapped your hands, “I still cannot believe my best friend is talented enough to finally snatch me away from poverty.”

“You know I got us,” he sat beside you before laying his head on your lap. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat from head to toe, “but let’s not forget you chose to be poor.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice. I can’t really help having idiotic parents,” you shrugged.

“I know baby,” he cooed. Hobi was quiet which was definitely out of his usual nature where he radiated a blinding luminescent orb around his being. He fidgeted with the strings on his sweatpants and opened his mouth only to say it again.

“Hoseok, you’re anxious and it’s making me anxious. Just say what you need to say.”

You combed your fingers through his damp hair, “I saw they, your parents, left a voicemail for you last week. Did you ever get back to them?”

“No,” you sighed, “and I don’t think I want to either. Everything they tried to do and were willing to do was truly wicked and unforgivable.”

“You never told me what happened.”

“It involves Jungkook, of course, and everything we did while in high school, Yeonjun’s party the summer before senior year.”

“The one he threw the week before school started?”

“Yes.”

“To this day I still can’t remember shit about that night.”

You chuckled, “a lot of our classmates don’t remember that night at all but I do. I remember every single detail.”

He didn’t say anything so you continued.

Yeonjun’s lake house was like a maze. There were numerous narrow halls with an array of doors carved on each wall and it was the same for every single corner you’ve turned into so far. The little bit of alcohol you had began clouding your mind and you felt more intoxicated than you actually were. Your kitten heeled black sandals clacking against the hardwood floor sought a way out of this elaborate labyrinth and back to what you originally came for.

The music playing just a floor below faded as you traveled deeper and deeper into the second floor, although you could still feel the booming bass vibrating right under your feet.

You just needed a bathroom—not because you actually needed to use it but because you needed to take a minute to yourself. . to breathe. Every other corner of this house including the back and front yards and even the fucking lake are already invaded by massive seas of drunk teenagers. Their voices were too loud, the music was headache inducing and the atmosphere adopted a stench of sweat and b.o.

After ditching the red solo cup on a nearby console table, you leaned against the off-white walls closing your to block out the dim lights making you a bit lightheaded.

Seriously, who even had this many fucking rooms in one house. You mumbled.

Sure, your family was wealthy but you were nothing like the Choi family. Your parents were both doctor’s devoting their time to the tiny private practice the two of them founded but on the other hand Yeonjun’s family came from a long lineage of businessmen and they practically owned a handful of the businesses for miles and miles around.

You weren’t jealous of all of the extra zeroes attached to his parents’ net worth, you and your own lived comfortably enough to not have any financial complaints. However, his parents were more liberal and they didn’t clip his wings. They weren’t clingy or demanding and they certainly did not push anything on him that he didn’t want to do. Your parents were not this way, they were controlling, and they told you what to do and eat, who to hang out with and date. With covetous thoughts you wondered if there would ever be a point in your life where you could feel as free as Yeonjun did.

Maybe now that you’ve turned eighteen things would be different. Doubtful—your birthday was a month ago and nothing has changed. Unfortunately, you still lived under their roof and relied on their money.

You removed your shoes and hesitated whether to travel back down stairs and out somewhere into the depth of the forest but immediately erased the thought from your mind as you looked down at your bare feet, mini skirt and crop top. This wasn’t really an appropriate outfit to go off exploring the woods in the middle of the night.

The minutes continued ticking by and finally you spotted a door at the end of the opposite hallway with a vertical rectangular piece of frosted glass cut right down the middle. Your feet traveled down the heated floors before your hand reached out for the black knob; turning it slowly.

It was a rooftop balcony.

The railing was wrapped in garden lights, while two sets of black cushioned reclining beach chairs sat around a propane fire pit. There was a massive grill to the other side, a bar that would put a nightclub to shame and a huge patio furniture set.

Your eyes thoroughly scanned your surroundings before landing on the boy leaning against the rail staring at the idiots swimming in the lake below. For the first time since you met him approximately four years ago his legs were exposed under the light washed knee length jorts, he wore a white t-shirt and a pair of black and white checkered vans. Still, right up the alley of what his style embodied but you had to admit you missed his signature chunky boots.

He still hadn’t noticed you so you walked up slowly, “I never thought I’d see you at a party like this,” you whispered in his ear before jumping right beside him.

The moon rays reflected a twinkle in his dark eyes, “Yeonjun and I are cool.”

“So, why aren’t you down stairs?”

“Why aren’t you?” his gaze traveled from your black painted toes all the way up to your eyes as if he was studying you intently.

“Too crowded,” you shrugged, “and not enough room to breathe.”

Jungkook looked ahead, his vision once again consumed by the dark green and brown shades of the dense forest once again, his side profile put artworks all across the world to shame.

“Yeah, same,” he added, “I’m gonna let you in on a little secret but parties aren’t really my thing.”

“No way. . I’ve seen you at every party for the past three years,” he dramatically rolled his eyes at the sarcasm in your voice and you chuckled before continuing a bit softer, “is this your first one?”

Jungkook nodded, “first one I’ve been invited to and the first I’ve ever attended too.”

“We’re breaking records tonight aren’t we.”

“I guess I’m feeling a bit audacious.”

You sneered, “audacious? Big word.”

“Don’t tell me you think I’m stupid like the rest of our classmates. .”

“I did my internship in the main office last year which included sealing report cards and sending them off,” he walked to one of the chairs and laid on it placing both of his palms under his head. Was he flexing? Couldn’t be. “You’ve practically taken every AP class offered at our school and aced all of them too. It’s a miracle how you have managed.”

“What can I say?” he smiled and his cheeks rose like two loaves of bread in an oven, “I’m all brains baby.”

“Brains and beauty,” you corrected.

“I can’t also be ‘beauty’ when you’re here; living, breathing, being,” Jungkook is the personification of all of your desires and his aura worked hard to draw you closer and closer in his direction no matter how hard you worked to stay away, for his sake. Even when you tried to repel away from him the gravitational force he exuded called out your name and your tympanum became inundated by the wails of his being.

Only he lived in your thoughts.

The video-like memories you have shot of him throughout the years loop in your mind day and night. It was dizzying but you didn’t want it any other way.

“You are beautiful,” you let your thoughts roll off your tongue freely—too tipsy to care and too enthralled by his striking features to lie about what you truly felt. What you’ve been working so hard to suppress for the past few years. You were tired of hiding, so fucking tired, “with your big beautiful eyes, and your cherry lips and rosey cheeks and all of these tattoos,” you carried on, “oh, and those piercings. Don’t you know that Jungkook?”

He was flushed and his head became tilted down as he played around with the silver rings on his fingers, “know what?”

“That you are more beautiful than life itself.”

Jungkook scooched over on the chair and patted the empty space beside him inviting you to sit near him and you did. He laid on his side while his face rested on his left palm.

“Are you drunk?” he asked.

“I only had two sips of Hobi’s drink,” you looked up at him through your eyelashes, “I’ve been on cranberry juice most of the night.”

“So this is not a case of drunken words you’ll forget once the sun comes up?” he leaned in closer and you could see the faint freckles dancing on his cheeks and on the bridge of his nose.

His eyes sparkled projecting bright constellations never before seen in the heavens, “I could never forget anything about you.”

“You know I can’t believe that right?”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ve forgotten about me for the past year,” he smiled devilishly, “you haven’t spared me the time of day. I’ve missed your sneaky glances. The way you’d drop your pencil half way through algebra just to bat those pretty eyelashes in my direction kind of like you are now.”

“I didn’t do that just to look at you,” you clutched the thin gold chain hanging from his neck, guiding him closer to you, “I was just genuinely clumsy.”

“I’m just saying it’s funny how the pencil always fell in my direction,”

“Forget the pencil, Jungkook,” shivers cascaded down your back as his lips hovered over yours—his breath fanning against them. The aroma of lemon, and mint, with woody and balsamic undertones tickled your nostrils.

Jungkook shook his head, his eyes remained on your lips as you swiped your tongue along them, “it’s not about the pencil?”

“It’s not,” you added, tucking the few strands of hair that framed his face behind his ear. You just wanted to lay there with him forever, to be consumed by the warmth of his embrace, to lose yourself in the tenderness of his kisses, to wake up next to him tomorrow and also every single day after that.

“So just admit you wanted to lo—”

You lips landed on his and finally you remembered just how magical kissing Jungkook was except unlike that day in school the bathroom, today, it wasn’t a game. You were there on your own free will and you didn’t care who was around to see. The only concern clouding your mind was how much more of him you craved. The way your mouths moved each other made you feel inebriated, even more than alcohol ever could and you weren’t afraid to admit his lips had you addicted.

The silver metal hoop hung onto the corner of his lip felt cold, but so good in comparison to his heated kisses. Despite where you were or how many people currently invaded Yeonjun’s house it felt like you and Jungkook were the only two people on the entire planet. Just the two of you with your lips dancing on each other with the moon and the stars baring as your only witnesses.

Jungkook pulled away slowly—panting slightly, “please shut me up like that more often,” he held your face, resting his forehead on yours and pecking your lips continuously, “tell me you’ll do it. Tell me you’ll always kiss my stupidity away.”

You nodded, “Jungkook, how about I kiss you like that always and forever. Not only because of your stupidity as you call it but just because.”

“Are you trying to confess something?”

He sat across from you on the beach chair taking your legs onto his lap, his soft hands massaged the soles of your feet. You swallowed back the guttural groan riding up your throat melting deeper into the chair due to his therapeutic touch. His fingers moved higher and higher up the length of your extremities, halting right above your knees, yet he continued kneading his fingers into your skin.

“Tell me.”

You hummed.

“I need you to be an open book with me. What are you looking to confess?”

Your eyes remained closed as he continued touching you gently—almost feather-like, “Jungkook, I can’t really think when you’re doing that. .”

“Should I stop?”

“No, please,” you pant.

He continued kneading your thighs, “tell me.”

From the tips of his fingers currents of electricity trickled onto your skin, “ah, fuck. .” you breathed, “I like you Jungkook. I like you. Okay?”

Hobi sat up beside you, now leaning against the mirrors as well. The sun has begun its journey towards the horizon and its rays peaked through the slightly drawn blinds, “wait so you guys. .?”

You nodded but said nothing else. That night had been a secret between you and Jungkook.

“On the roof of Yeonjun’s house during our senior year back to school bash?” The surprise in his tone was evident but you weren’t taken back by it all.

“Yes,” you smiled faintly, unwilling to hide the giddiness you felt from the memories of your time together from Jungkook, “it was our little secret. We swore to each other we wouldn’t say anything to anyone. That’s why I didn't mention anything to you before but obviously someone saw and word got out that same night.”

Hobi sighed, “don’t tell me another fight broke out between him and your dumbass ex-boyfriend.”

You shook your head, “this time it was different. I wasn’t scared of what others thought anymore. In that moment I decided I would stop caring. I wanted to stop hurting him,” your clammy hands began to shake slightly and Hobi placed his palms on top of them to stop their trembling, “that night after the party we rode around all night aimlessly. Enjoying each other’s company and truly I was the happiest I had ever been all my life. Everything went to shit as soon as I made it home and walked in through the door. My parents waited for me to get in, they sat me down and began rambling about my change in behavior and how different I had become.”

He hummed and you took that as a sign to continue.

“As soon as I sat on the chair that night they slid over my mom’s phone and there was a picture of Jungkook and I kissing on one of the longue chairs. I swear I had dejavu from freshman year.”

“Did you ever find who took the picture?”

“I never did but I always figured it was one of my ex’s minions or something,” you shrugged, “to be honest, trying to figure it out was the last thing on my mind. They started talking and talking rambling on about my personality change and rebelliance and how Jungkook was the cause of it or some shit.”

“How did they even come up with that?”

“I asked myself the same thing,” you snickered, just thinking about it even now makes your blood boil, “but it didn’t matter. Being eighteen didn’t matter; they just wanted to keep us away from each other at all costs. They made all types of threats to make me press charges and file a restraining order which I obviously refused. Then, they vowed to make his life hell if I didn’t stay away and I didn’t want to find out what they meant so I decided to comply and stay away.”

“Okay, now I’m beginning to understand why you moved in with my family half way through senior year,” his thumb rubbed circles on the dorsal side of your hand, “were they mad when you left? I used to ask my mom if your folks ever reached out but she always avoided the question.”

“They were livid but nothing they could ever say or do would ever make me stay in that place.”

“Did they manage to leave Jungkook alone?”

“Well, after the big cut-off Jungkook and I were never able to find our way back to each other,” your voice was low, almost as if you couldn’t hear yourself it just wouldn’t be true, “and I moved in with you and your mom and I completely blocked them out of my life.”

“Good. I’m glad you ditched them,” he pinched your cheeks, “you deserve better than them and their money’s no good to you anyway.”

“I just wish I would’ve kept in contact with him. Maybe tell him what was going on or something,” you scratched the back of your neck obviously frustrated at your lack of communication skills as a stupid eighteen year old. You were such an idiot—why couldn’t you open your fucking mouth?

“We all make bad decisions at one point in our lives but you had no choice, baby. You were sandwiched into the wall one bad choice up against another. You made the best decision you could with the circumstances at hand,” he snuggled closer to you, wrapping one hand around your shoulder, “don’t beat yourself up over it please.”

“I love you. Seriously, I don’t know what I would ever do without you.”

He kissed your forehead, “I love you more.”

Today Jungkook’s highway of thoughts has eased and though you liked how calm the morning has been you also kind of missed the feeling of his lingering presence—almost as if your own shadow was missing.

You despised waking up towards the early hours of the afternoon but today you couldn’t seem to peel yourself out of of your bed, until finally you couldn’t fathom the idea of napping your day away—plus couldn’t do that even if you wanted to because Jungkook and Jimin would be over in about thirty minutes to begin working on Mr. Kim’s project.

Jimin had been the middle man in this entire set-up, he had both of your numbers so he took it upon himself to text the two of your separately (because he knew you and Jungkook were physically impossible of initiating a social exchange amongst yourselves), and get you both on board with a neutral territory to meet at. Of course, Jimin’s idea of a neutral territory involved a place where he could catch glimpses of his ex strutting around which meant your apartment was his ideal meeting spot and although his thoughts hadn’t revealed anything so far you just knew Jungkook wasn’t ecstatic about this whole arrangement.

After taking a quick shower, getting dressed and setting up a plate of sliced fruits and a couple bags of snack size chips and cookies you heard a light knock on your door.

Taking a deep breath you turned the knob before pulling the door open. It was Jungkook and as always he looked breathtaking. You were beginning to think comfort was his go-to because yet again, he wore sweats and a simple t-shirt—tattoos still peeking out at you, his bottom lip still pierced with the same small silver hoop, hair half up half down and his book bag slung on his left shoulder.

Removing his headphones he stared back at you as you continued ogling him, “hey. .” he greeted in his deep tone.

Why is she staring at me like that?

Do I have a stain or something?

He looked down at his shirt but when he saw nothing he just stared back at you tilting his head slightly.

“Hi,” you stepped out of his way and he finally crossed over the threshold into your apartment, “you’re the first one here so we’re just waiting on Jimin to make it before we begin. Please sit anywhere.”

He nodded.

The apartment wasn’t necessarily big but it wasn’t small either. An open floor plan made up the space between the kitchen and living room area with a rectangular island separating the two rooms. Immediately to the right of that was the door leading to Hobi’s room, then your room sat at the end of that hall just a couple feet away and the bathroom was just across from your door.

Yet even as you walked towards the kitchen and Jungkook made strides towards the love seat in the living room you felt like the two of you were cramped in a tiny box with the temperature hiked to the highest setting. God, there were about a million things you could say or offer him but nothing could ever mend his broken heart and that was enough to keep your lips sealed tight.

Where the fuck is Jimin?

I don’t know if I can be here alone with her for much longer.

And it’s so fucking hot. I’m gonna pass out.

Fuck, you knew it. He’s upset. Though you already figured coming here was probably hard for him, you didn’t imagine it would hurt you as much as it did to actually know how much he despised being in your vicinity, but it did.

Jungkook sat rather stiffly on the couch, bag still slung on his back as if he was ready to leave, staring off into the distance while his leg bounced up and down anxiously. Strolling past him silently you nearned the thermostat and cranked the AC up higher.

That’ll literally fix nothing at all.

You turned around taking a seat on one of the accent chairs near the row of windows on the opposite end of the living room. If it wasn’t for the invasion of his thoughts, the silence would be killing you softly.

“Have you heard anything from Jimin?” he finally looked in your direction but not into your eyes instead they lingered lower—in the direction of your legs. The hunger displayed in his eyes took you back to the night before when he moaned your name so sweetly.

“Nothing,” you tapped your screen to show him the lack of texts and placing the phone back on your thigh, his gaze followed almost like he was hypnotized.

You would give anything to hear him just one more time—Fuck, just once more.

He cleared his throat, snapping out of those sinful thoughts cooking up in your head, “yeah, same. And I’ve texted him like three times.”

“I’m thinking that little shit bailed even though he planned this whole thing,” you were scared to form your thoughts into actual words, “do you want us to start or would you rather wait for him?”

He breathed out almost exasperated—damn, you should’ve kept the suggestion to yourself. You were about to take it all back but then he finally spoke up, “We’re both here now. I think we can begin and then fill him in. . If that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, I think that’s the best we can do,” did he just willingly comply with staying alone with you, “I’ll go get my notebook. Gimme one second.”

“Okay.”

Right. . Okay. Just here to get our work done. That’s all. That is all. Yeah.

You sat beside him on the couch startling him just a bit—he seemed tense, “so we’re supposed to pick a movie, and match no less than three scenes to at least one of the emotions listed.”

“I say we do the very minimum and pick the movie I’m sure we’ve all watched,” he asked, unzipping his bag and pulling out his notebook.

“Titanic?” you asked.

“No, The Blind Side,” he scoffed, “do we really want to sit here for one hundred hours just to recap the eternity that is Titanic?”

“But the emotions for Titanic are so easy to dissect; we have happiness, love, and jealousy right off the bat,” you argued, “the assignment is practically done for us already.”

“Yeah, but everyone’s going to do Titanic. We need to stand out. Be different.”

“It’s an intro to writing class. I vote for taking it easy, weren’t you just moaning about taking it easy anyway?” your tone was a bit condescending you’d admit but the way he scanned your figure was addicting. There was nothing you craved more in this world than to have his gaze drink you in as if you were his favorite drink.

“I wasn’t moaning.”

I was last night though.

You swallowed hard, biting your tongue and holding yourself back from going along with begging him to moan the way you’d heard him do so the night before. His husk groans so low and sweet, so fucking sweet, “But you were.”

“It was a suggestion. There was no moaning involved.”

“Well, maybe if you did moan I would cave and take your suggestion,” the words rolled off your tongue before you could ever stop them.

He smirked, “so you just wanna hear me moan.”

Don’t smirk.

Eternally mad at her, remember?

The internal conflict raging within him gave you at least a little bit of hope. As you mapped out the field of his thoughts you figured he wanted nothing to do with but distance himself; to be cold and standoffish but he also revealed he wanted you. He wanted you near—to hold you, kiss you, touch you.

It was confusing and headache inducing but you liked that you still lived in his mind the same way he lived in yours.

You shrugged, “maybe I do.”

“Please, don’t,” his eyes finally met yours.

Look away.

But he didn’t and you were glad he didn’t.

“Do you want me to beg Jungkook?” you purred low and slow—the translation intended was desperation and you hoped he understood exactly what you were hinting at. You were tired of hiding behind your emotions.

She’s a fucking pied piper and I’m the snake hyptonized by sweet song and mindlessly slithering towards her.

Yes, Jungkook. Come closer, come to me. If only he could listen to your thoughts, this would be a whole lot easier.

Fucking one way telepathy.

“Uh,” there was a mere blank look plastered on his features. His pupils were blown and a soft tint of rose dusted his cheeks. It was as if your words had sucker punched him and he was still processing the hit.

You moved closer to him on the couch, placed your hand on his thighs to balance yourself as you drew closer to his ear, “please, Jungkook. Please, I need to hear you moan again.”

Fuck.

Fuck!

He groaned and the honeyed husk tone sent a trail of goosebumps up your thighs resulting in your panties becoming moist, “please.”

“Jungkook, I want you,” it was the first time in years you’d heard those words adjacent to his name and fuck did it feel good.

Fuck it.

His calloused hands were now on your waist and he began guiding you to lay on the loveseat before your hand landed on his chest to stop him.

“I said I want you,” you sat him back down before kneeling in-between his legs. The fit of his sweats got tighter, lifting and taking on the shape of a tent, “you didn’t reciprocate the sentiment so that means I’m in charge here today.”

Tell her. It’s easy.

Tell her you want her too, you fucking idiot.

He never vocalized it but you didn’t mind—knowing the thought pranced around on his mind was more than enough for you.

“Are you okay with taking these off?” he complied, taking his sweats off swiftly, letting the pool at his ankles. Jungkook is fucking big and you were taken back by the sight, “good boy,” you cooed.

His head fell back on the headrest while his eyes were shut tightly and his breathing became uneven. Oh! He likes that. He likes being called a good boy; you made a mental note to call him that again if you find yourself in a similar predicament.

You raked your nails along his inner thigh, “Jungkook?”

He hummed.

“What do you fantasize about?” you laid your head on his thigh, his dick just a couple inches away from your face and truly all you wanted was to take him all in your mouth.

“Alot of things.”

You reached up, taking his length into your hold and he winced at the contact as you began moving your hand up and down once and once again, “I need more details than that.”

“I think of. .” his words became jumbled in his throat as you continued your very mellow and teasing touch, “of you doing, ah fuck, of you doing all these things to me.”

You clicked your tongue and shook your head at his semi-confession, “Jungkook, have you touched yourself while you think of me, hm?”

Of course, you already knew. You’d heard it yourself but you just loved seeing him become so affected and so sensitive as a result of your lewd utters.

Your palms traveled up to his pink tip and began rubbing circles with your thumb painting it white with his precum.

“Good boys don’t touch themself.”

Jungkook’s mouth remained agape but there were no words communicated instead he formed a sort of soft whimper, and that was the kind of motivation your body needed to go into overdrive.

You wanted. . No, needed to rid yourself of these suffocating ass fucking clothes, you needed to touch yourself—to release that tension aching so painfully in between your legs. But you didn’t. Today was not about you.

“I know. .” he groaned, digging his nails onto the black leather couch, “but when I have you invade my thoughts,” he paused looking for all of the right words, “I just can’t control myself.”

“Hm, seems like I have a lot to live up to compared to your fantasies,” you kissed the head enveloped in your hand before swiping your tongue along his shaft and he hissed.

His saccharine noises should be made into a playlist so that you could be able to replay them over and over everywhere you go but especially when you lay under the covers of your bed in the late hours of the night. The only thoughts occupying your mind would be the compositions of his lustful cries as your fingers worked diligently to get yourself off.

It was so tempting to just allow his hands to continue traveling down your stomach and waist, a few more inches and his fingers could be at the exact location where your body screamed out for his attention.

You wanted it so bad.

You tutted while clicking your tongue, “sit back, Jungkook,” you removed his warm feeling away from your lower back and placed them on his knees before patting them softly, “and keep your hands to yourself. Yeah?”

“It’s really hard to,” he said, “nearly impossible when you’re working so hard to get me off and you’re just sitting there squirming whenever I talk about touching you. Cause the thought has lingered around in your mind, right?”

“Jungkook, this is not how tonight is supposed to go.”

“Then, how is it supposed to go?”

Your hand began moving up and down his cock, pumping him once again before you felt the corners of your mouth beginning to sting as you wrapped your lips around him. It was painful. . Good painful though. With each passing second you bobbed your head on his cock working to take him inch by inch but no matter how much you tried, it was nearly impossible.

His hand snaked around your neck aiding you, sinking himself deeper into the warmth of your mouth. With strings of saliva streaming down your chin, puffy lips, heated skin and a sort of fucked out look in your eyes you continued the repetition.

Seeing him lose himself under the ministrations of your touch and mouth was overwhelming and drove you to the verge of nearly succumbing to the peaking orgasm lurking close by. Instead you diverted your mind to what you were doing instead of what you felt. Placing one your hand around the base of his balls massaging them into your touch, while you put firm pressure with your thumb on the perineum—and that’s when you saw the explosion of fireworks erupt in his eyes while his thighs began to shake.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Her mouth is—fuck!

“I’m so close,” a needy whimper escaped his lips, “please don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. Please.”

You complied, nearly choking on his cock. The feeling of being nearly rid of your ability to breathe was addicting and yes, if tonight were to be your last day on earth it would be a pleasure to die with Jungkook’s dick in your mouth.

“I’ve been a good boy,” he cried out, “can I please cum?”

Been such a good boy. So good.

You hummed in approval right before he spilled into your mouth and you swallowed every bit of it before turning to see his splayed out body—all limp and tired.

After wiping the corners of your mouth you sat beside him on the couch. Your knees were red and stung just a bit but honestly you could do it all over again—all night if you could. Slightly, opening his eyes he looked down, placing a kiss on each knee.

“I never thought we would-” he paused momentarily, “we would do something like this ever again.”

“Really?” your voice became hoarse, “because I’ve thought about it for a long long time now.”

“You have?”

“I have,” you continued, “and I’d like to think you do as well but if you’re ever ready to actually admit what you truly feel you know where I’ll be.”

I do want you. So bad.

And my feelings for you have always remained the same. I still have feelings for you, I feel everything for you. I always have and always will.

He didn’t say a word but simply offered a sly smile before slipping away to get himself together in the bathroom.

… But you were not disappointed.

He needed time and that’s okay. You’d be more than happy to give him the time to dissect this peculiar relationship the two of you have. . developed. It’s the least you could do after all these years.

In your heart you just hope he finds his way back to you.

“So you sucked him dry and then you both continued to work on the project like nothing happened?” Jimin asked; his head laid on Hobi’s lap. Yes, they were back together. This was apparently the reason why he had missed the project session the night before.

“We were kinda forced to when your ass was MIA from the very meeting you set-up.”

He rolled his eyes, “nobody forced you to suck his dick.”

“Fuck you, Jimin.”

“Why don’t you begin by fucking Jungkook instead.”

“Jungkook and I aren’t fucking anytime soon,” you sighed spinning around on your desk chair. The ceiling seemed to come crashing down on you even as you thought of gravity of your fucked up reality, “it’s like I can feel that he still feels something for me but he just won’t vocalize it.”

Hobi caressed the apples of Jimin’s pink cheeks, stroking them lightly with his thumb. They were the picture perfect image of love—whenever they were not fighting of course.

“So you sucked his dick at the expense of what?” Hobi inquired.

“I really just wanted him in my fucking mouth,” you shrugged not really wanting to scramble for any other explanation because the truth of the matter is all of you would always calls out for Jungkook whether you wanted to or not.

“Oh, baby,” Hobi abandoned his place on your bed and kneeled in front of you holding your hands in his, “while I support all forms of slut revelations and tendencies as your best friend it is within my obligation to require you to tend after your heart.”

You nodded.

“Jungkook is alluring, captivating, mysterious and absolutely handsome—” Jimin cleared his throat behind him, but he ignored his boyfriend and proceeded, “and the two of you have a lot of history both good and bad but you have to understand what happened in the past is yesterday’s event. Jungkook can break your heart or hurt you in any way and it’ll be just as fucked up no matter what happened between the two of you back in high school. Okay?”

“Okay,” Hobi was right but how could you shut out the part of your brain which justified every single way Jungkook could tear you apart? Underneath the spark; shining bright in your eyes every single time he appeared in your line of vision you knew you deserved his wrath for every inconvenience you had a role in while inserted into his path.

“Don’t just say it. Mean it.”

The room felt smaller, suffocating, colder and Hobi’s words rolled around in your head in every single direction. The three of you were sprawled around your full bed watching a random movie Jimin had picked out. You sat up against the headboard while the two of them laid on their stomachs facing the television hung on your wall. You weren’t alone but your bed felt empty and as you looked off to your right you couldn’t help but be transported back to last night when you and Jungkook finally settled on the Titanic.

The tragic telling of two people who found their way to each other against all circumstances and the barrier of societal norms and expectations that stood in-between them. Of course, aside from Leo unnecessarily dying in the final act this could be a retelling of pinpoints on your relationship with Jungkook. You liked each other, your parents were against it, you lived in the moment and you let your heart lead a way here and there but as soon as the iceberg (your parents, your ex, and even you) became introduced as the antagonist the two of you found yourselves swimming in an ocean of heartbreak and despair.

You would always assume responsibility for every single way you hurt Jungkook in the past but if one thing must be crystal clear is that you also love him. You did back then and you do now—the only difference is that back then you were looking to please all of those around you and you suppress your feelings in the deepest pocket of your heart but you wanted to liberate it all. You were finally ready to listen to your heart.

It was a composition to a beautiful song, one so loud it courses through your very being, awakening your nerves and causing your thoughts to explode into a frenzy.

You wanted him here with you. Snuggling into you sharing longing looks and deprived touches.

You wanted him to be open and push all of his fears away.

You wanted him to realize that you were different now. Things were different and you would treat him so well.

I need to talk to her. Yeah.

Almost as if his brain and his phone were wired together you heard a ding go off right beside you.

‘Hey, can we please talk?’

Your heart sank because in your experience that sentence never led to a good thing. Never.

‘Sure. When are you free?’

‘Right now.’

‘Hobi and Jimin are home. You can come over if you don’t mind some company or we can meet somewhere else?’

‘Come to my apartment in 5.’

‘K.’

Jittery was the exact word you’d use to describe Jungkook at soon as he opened up the door to his apartment and stepped aside to allow you in. The length of his finger had a slight tremble and his eyes were blown wide.

You hadn’t really seen him like that in a while.

“Jungkook, are you okay?”

He nodded, “yeah, just a bit stressed with everything going on plus I’ve had like five energy drinks in the past five hours.”

“What’s got you so stressed?” you asked standing before him, you felt hesitant to sit anymore. I mean you did have his dick in your mouth like less than twenty-four hours ago but you didn’t want to push it and you certainly did not want to invade his personal space.

“Too many things, honestly. School for one. .” he ran a hand through his hair taking a brief second to determine exactly what he wanted to reveal to you, “work study plus now I'll be co-coaching the swim team as well.”

“You’re headstrong Jungkook,” you offered, “I’m sure you’ll do amazingly even with this hectic schedule you are so determined to take on.”

“I went to this psychic once and she told me my ambition to take on everything would lead to my demise,” he chuckled airily, “I’m beginning to think she was right.”

“Psychics are bullshit. Who says you can’t have cake and chocolate ice cream too?”

“Right,” you hadn’t noticed before but casual was Jungkook’s new staple. Seems like he has drifted away from his black boots and particularly dark toned outfits. You liked that version of him quite a lot, although you hadn’t really shown it in the past. However, you also liked the version of him standing before you where he maximized comfort and migrated to mostly tones of white, gray and nudes, “of course you would make that comparison. Cake and chocolate ice cream have always been your go to dessert combination.”

“Isn’t it everyones?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “for example my nutritionist might say it’s too sugary.”

“Well, fuck the psychic and that nutritionist of yours too,” Jungkook’s laugh is just like the rest of him—inviting, sweet and genuine. When he laughs, it’s addictive enough to make you want to make him laugh again and again, just so you can hear that sound and see her giggly smile as much as possible, “forreal, but also just remember you gotta just live in the moment, don't worry about tomorrow or even yesterday. Today is all that matters.”

“I definitely agree but funny enough I kinda wanted to talk to you about what happened last night..” He cleared his throat, “on the couch of your apartment. Well you and Hobi’s apartment.”

You looked down at your dusty white converse before finding his eyes once again, “what exactly did you want to talk about?”

Go on. Go on.

“We’re good right? Are you okay after—well, you know,” was he worried about hurting you after you suck him off yesterday? God, you could suck his dick all over again and then once more after that or preferably until your jaw locks and your knees dissipate. Though, that still wouldn’t be enough to extinguish the burning desire in the pit of your stomach.

“What exactly are you asking?” you took a step towards him, “shouldn’t I be the one making sure we’re good especially considering all of our history together?”

“Forget that.”

Don’t bring it up, please. Just forget about it.

“I can’t Jungkook,” you sighed, “I wanna make sure we’re okay and I wanna apologize for what happened. Please, let me do it. I don’t want you to resent me for the rest of your life because of it.”

“There’s no need to. I forgave you long ago. The cold stares and snarky comments were always just a front,” he confessed, “I forgave you the second after everything went down.”

“And I thank you for that but I still need to do this. I need to get it off my chest,” you reached for his hand; the warmth of his hold settled your nerves and finally you were able to go on, “Please, forgive me Jungkook. For going through with that dare and kissing you in the bathroom. I did want to kiss you but I should’ve never let them take a picture; it only made things worse for you. I’m sorry for not comforting you after your fight with my idiot ex, although I wanted to. I was scared but you were too and it was my fault so I should’ve been there. I’m sorry for ghosting you after we spent the night together at Yeonjun’s party—my parents, they gave me an ultimatum and I was just a high school senior still very dependent on them and I know that’s not an excuse but I managed to make it one back then. Most of all I’m so fucking sorry for not reaching out to you sooner and making things right. I just hope it isn’t too late now.”

His hands abandoned yours and instead he leaned over before cupping your face, “I told you already. I forgave you for everything a long time ago.”

“I appreciate your kind heart and forgiving nature, Jungkook,” you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes in the process, “but still I needed you to know how truly sorry I am.”

“Please, stop apologizing,” he sighed, “the past is the past and you have no reason to be apologizing to me right now.”

“You keep saying that but I did and I do,” Jungkook’s stare was comforting; his eyes felt like embers burning your skin under the sun rays shining bright during the mid-afternoon sun, “and I will continue to do so at any given minute. I need to make up for all of that lost time—every single minute; every hour I’ve let you slip through my fingers. You deserve to be treasured, loved and cherished for the rest of your days and I will do just that if you allow me to.”

“What exactly are you asking me?”

“I’m simply asking that we allow things to ride out and perhaps the tide might just take us somewhere beautiful.”

He giggled, “do these sonnets just live in that pretty little head of yours?”

“My head is more than just pretty,” you challenge.

“I know that,” this is the giddiest you’ve ever seen Jungkook be. In recent times he had adopted a sort of hard shell, which he often wore like a shield but today as he leaned on his kitchen island with his head propped up on his palms he looked elated, “I just like the way you describe the potential of there being an. . us.”

“Do you like it enough to give things a chance? Maybe even go on a date?” the tremble in your extremities gave away just how truly nervous you felt, though you tried your best to hide it. You’d never asked anyone out before but for Jungkook you were willing to make the first move.

She’s so poetic with her affinity for love. I like the way her eyes light up when she talks about us being together.

“How about tomorrow?”

“I’m free tomorrow.”

The following day was a blur overshadowed by a nimbostratus cloud which swept in a vicious squall with gusts so powerful your room was left a literal mess as you spent hours prior to Jungkook picking up frantically looking for the perfect date outfit.

Now, you sat in your little casual red dress in the passenger seat of the car Jungkook borrowed from his best friend. Your balmy sat atop your thighs and you tapped your fingers lightly on your heated skin.

The night sky was beautiful—drowning with a million of bright stars and a moon so illuminating it spotlighted your path. Nightlife here roared with vibrancy and the sidewalks were congested with people bar hopping or looking for dinner spots among other things. This scene had great capability in finally claiming your attention away from Jungkook and his sinful thoughts but it was hard. Every single image Jungkook painted within the beauty of his mind blasted in your head seemingly like a framed art piece in a gallery. Except, the only difference was that roaming around a museum was peaceful, whereas Jungkook's wandering thoughts made you quiver and sent glacial shivers down your spine.

For the duration of the ten minute car ride he’s use the weapon known as his mind and managed to peel your clothes off, re-imagining the way your mouth moved on his cock, then, within seconds he painted a picture of what it would be like to fuck you against the hood of his car. You’d admit the depiction of you against the cold metal bumper with your dress hiked up to your waist, while he pounds into you relentlessly really was more than enough to ignite (with the man sitting behind the wheel; eyes hyper focused on the road ahead; and his tattooed knuckles gripping the steering wheel), about a million fantasies you wanted to fulfill with his assistance.

But the urge to have the heat of his touch roam every inch of your body became abated when Jungkook parked his car and you found yourselves sitting across from each other in the red booth of a seafood restaurant on the pier. The incandescent bulb overhead did very little to irradiate the space between you and yet Jungkook still looked as radiant as ever. The muffled and incessant chatter of the patrons scattered throughout the establishment became similar to the buzzing of bumble bees and truly you weren’t really too sure you could make out conversations they engaged in.

You were kind of nervous and although you’d hope it wasn’t too obvious you couldn’t help the way your eyes scanned the room and your body failed to comply with the simple order of sitting still.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Jungkook sat up on the leather seat and looked off outside the glass window drinking in the vicious waves as they crashed against the golden shore.

You look beautiful every single day.

“Thank you,” you smiled, “I see your signature black boots have finally made a comeback,” you followed his eyes out to get a view of the roaring sea, “I thought you might’ve grown out of them.”

This look—tonight was the epitome of teenage Jungkook core and you couldn’t help but savor the brief stroll down memory lane. Of course, back in high school you’d always had a tiny little crush on him and while you worked to get over it; that was not an issue today. You were gawking—practically drooling at how amazing his biceps looked under the sleeves of his white tee, his black jeans hugged his thick thighs and his hair was tied half up half down and of course those damned black boots.

“They’re my secret weapon. I just keep them in the back of my closet for special occasions.”

I also know they were always your favorite look on me.

“In that case, I’m honored that a night with me is considered a special occasion enough to bring out the boots,” Jungkook finally turned towards you, his eyes shining bright like jewels even in the shitty lighting.

“I figured it fit our little slice of history perfectly.”

“Don’t tell me these were the exact ones you wore that day?

“They are the exact same ones.”

“I thought you would have gotten rid of them with everything that transpired,” you whispered; talking about the past still felt taboo.

“I contemplated that many times,” he shrugged then proceeded in a timorous voice, “but I just couldn’t. There is an abundance of bad memories attached to them but the memory of my first kiss trumps all negatives.”

“Your first kiss?” Your shock was evident and for a second you had to look around just to make sure you weren‘t too loud but the people around the two of you were too into their own conversations. They were oblivious to the little corner you and Jungkook occupied towards the back of the restaurant—in your own little world, “I-I was your first kiss?”

He nodded before taking a small sip of his water.

“Jungkook?”

He looked at you, “what?”

“Are you being one-hundred percent serious. . I was your first kiss?”

Jungkook pressed his lips into a tight line causing his cheeks to become impaled by his chasmic dimples; then, he closed his eyes briefly before taking a deep breath, “I was a loser in high school. Of course, I was spared a few friends but in the ‘love’ department I was lacking severely so naturally no one was ever interested in pursuing anything romantic with me. Until, that afternoon when the girl I’d been crushing on finally walked up to me in the bathroom.”

“If I could go back in time and embrace the feelings that I had for you, Jungkook just to tell you how I actually felt I’d do it in a heartbeat,” your heart beat rhythmically in your chest and quickly you began feeling fatigued as if your air supply would be cut off if you didn’t peel back every single one of your layers and confess exactly how you felt.

“If I could go back in time and tell you what I actually felt despite the consequences I’d also do it in a heartbeat,” he murmured, taking your hands in his.

“Good evening and welcome to Under the Sea, can I get you started on anything tonight?” the server approached. Her hair was tied up messily and she wore a black polo and black pants while carrying around a small notepad and pencil in her hand. She seemed friendly but a bit overwhelmed—though, you couldn’t really blame her, this place is leaning a whole lot towards chaos.

“Yeah, we’re ready,” Jungkook said, a fib of course, the two of you had been too busy talking to scan the menu before she came over, “I’ll take the Cioppino. Anything looking appetizing to you?”

“I think I’ll take the Paella.”

“And for drinks?” she asked scribbling away on her notepad.

“I’ll have a Coke.”

“Same here,” the two of you handed back the menu, “thank you.”

“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” she smiled before walking off towards the kitchen.

The rest of the night at Under the Sea was brief and while you and Jungkook indulged in small talk here and there the two of you were starving and more concerned about getting something in your stomach. After leaving the busy restaurant Jungkook led you in the opposite direction of the parking lot towards the small park across the street from the beach. Right under the live oak tree there was a blanket laid out with numerous flameless candles flickering their feeble light around the very spot. As you got closer you noticed the basket sitting next to the blanket on the grass and the rose petals scattered around.

“Jungkook. .” You became stunned at the attention to detail of the man before you. Everything looked so beautiful, “you did this all? W-when did you even have the time to set this up?”

“I set everything up before our date and I know some of the workers from the restaurant and asked them to check in every once in a while and bring our snacks out like five minutes ago so nothing would spoil.”

“You prepared snacks for us?”

“More like I cut-up some fruits.”

“In that case I’m judging your knife skills.”

“Not too harshly though,” he tittered softly and airily. It mimicked the comforting tunes of lullabies, “come one, let’s sit. I have some things lined up for us tonight.”

You sat beside him on the velvet fabric, you folded your legs to your side and used one of the spare blankets to cover your lap. Before you there were two medium sized tabletop easels and a selection of paints and brushes.

Jungkook removed the white button up he’d left unbuttoned and kept on the white wifebeater. For the first time you finally had a full view of his sleeve; on full display. The black traces filled in with colorful shades adorned every inch of his right arm all the way down to his wrist. You had the urge to reach out and trace every single pattern but you held back—you and Jungkook were good but this is the beginning stage; first you have to dip your toe in and test the waters.

She’s staring at my arms. . Be calm.

Don’t flex. . Don’t flex.

Dammit.

He flexed, reaching up to brush a stand of hair back and out of his face.

You smiled, “so, what’s supposed to be our inspiration for painting tonight?”

“Each other. You paint me and I’ll paint you.”

“Jungkook, I’m a lousy painter,” you whined.

“The point isn’t for it to be good,” Jungkook began brushing soft strokes on the canvas, “it’s about the creative process. . the ideas that your mind interprets into art.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” you scoffed.

“Art didn’t always come easy to me.”

“How did you know this is what you wanted to do for the rest of your life?” you finally picked up a brush and squeezed a dash of paint on the wooden palette, allowing your hands to work freely—to create.

“The first time I drew anything for others to see was in high school,” his eyes were gleaming with thoughts of reminisce, “Ms. Julie, reached out to me sophmore year, said she needed my help designing the yearbook cover for the seniors that year.”

“I remember the cover that year,” Jungkook looked over at you and there was a layer of joy featured on his face, “it was absolutely beautiful and I also remember every single cover after that being just as amazing.”

“Thank you,” his cheeks were a crisp crimson now, “I designed all of the year books every year after that as well. Actually, I still help Ms. Julie from time to time even now.”

“That’s amazing. It’s truly a gift that your hands possess and I’m so glad we get to see what they create.”

Jungkook stopped his movements all together, his gaze no longer set on the easel, instead he looked downward, his cheeks still burned bright, maybe a little more now than before and by the paced heaves of his chest he seemed to be calculating his every breath.

“Thank thank you,” he stammered.

“And just so you know I intend to shower you with compliments, so get used to it.”

He beamed, “what about you?”

“What about me?”

“What are your passions?”

You shrugged, “Hm, I was never really good at anything back in highschool and while I knew I had to do something. I had a really tough time figuring things out.”

“But then. .”

“Then, I did an internship at the daycare on campus the summer before classes started and I realized how much I love being around all of the kids,” you said, “and at that moment I automatically knew what my major would be, come the fall semester.”

“Funny how life works right?”

“One-hundred percent.”

The cool draft of the expeditious night swept by softly allowing you to leave behind the once scorching afternoon. Right now, you became a resident in your very own slice of heaven and in your head the only people around for miles were you and Jungkook. For the past thirty minutes, the two of you haven’t crossed many words, you were too focused on contextualizing the perfect artwork—one that’ll remind him of you wherever he sees it.

Now, you were not an artist by any means but you tried nevertheless. The best interpretation of him you could come up with was to depict the sheer contrast between the different versions of himself.

The two were slightly different yet when meshed together working symbiotically to make Jungkook the perfect mixture of tranquil, mesmerizing and lulling all in one.

Your canvas was split in two—one side you painted baby blue with music notes substituting the clouds in what would be the bright afternoon sky and and a lousy excuse for a guitar sitting on the bottom. This was the version of him that lived inside and the one only a few people got to see. His mysterious aura and great passion for music. Then, on the opposite side you painted a black background in combination with it there was an abundance of colorful art supplies scattered all throughout. This one represented what he chooses to show and what many saw on the outside on his day-to-day course.

After some finishing touches you moved back on taking one last look at your work, “okay. . Here, I tried my best but it’s not your face. Just some things that remind me of you.”

“Let’s see,” he hummed excitedly, waiting for you to turn the canvas around.

“Be nice, okay?”

“I will, I will.”

When Jungkook was excited there were a lot of distinctive actions that communicated with his body and expressions. His eyes lit up like the explosions of fireworks on a summer night; his shoulders were raised up past his jawline and his cheeks burned bright.

“It’s not good, okay,” you beamed at his cheerfulness; it was cute how thrilled he was.

“It’s perfect,” he leaned closer to sneak a glance, “come on. Let me see.”

“Fine,” turning the canvas around felt like an invasion of privacy, although everything on it was solely about him, it was still like a clear window into your soul and how you saw him.

You’d never been this vulnerable before with anyone. Never.

He scanned the explosion of colors sitting in-between your hands. Jungkook’s lips curved up while the corners of his eyes wrinkled in amusement.

“This is amazing and absolutely the best depiction of everything I love.”

“Don’t lie to me, Professor Picasso.”

“I don’t lie about art,” he reached for it and you placed it in his hands, “and this is a masterpiece.”

You scoffed.

“I’m serious,” he argued, “this is going up on my art wall. Front and center.”

“This better be the only thing on your art wall,” you muttered.

Jungkook finally grabbed his canvas holding it close to his chest. . Well, as close as he could due to the wet paint, “Here’s mine.” he still had not turned it around for you to see.

“You know you actually have to turn it for me to take a look.”

He chuckled, “I know but nervousness is contagious. . Just gimme one second.” He took a deep breath before slowly turning the canvas in your direction and there you were. Same facial features, hair style and red dress you had chosen for the night. The talent his fingers convey is jaw dropping. It is evident Jungkook is an amazing artist through and through.

“Jungkook. .” You knew he was good; you’d seen the covers he had designed for the highschool yearbook back then, still, that didn’t prepare you for this in the slightest bit to see yourself from his point of view, “I don’t have an art wall but this will definitely be the beginning of one in my apartment.”

He guffawed while passing his painting over.

“I’m serious,” you continued, now closely examining his precise attention to detail. He got every single attribute down to the smallest scars and birthmarks, “your talent is impeccable. Just look at how amazing this is. It’s actually not fair at all. I want mine back.”

“No way! You can’t take back gifts you have already given away to someone.”

“Yes, I can,” you argued, “especially if my gift looks like shit next to yours.”

“It most definitely doesn’t. I already told you, I love it and it’s going up on my wall and there’s nothing you can do about it,” he leaned closer, placing a soft peck on your forehead and clutching the painting tight in his grasp.

You groaned admitting defeat, “but I am expecting a lot more paintings from you.”

“Always.”

Of course. As long as you’re beside me, and even if some day for some reason you aren’t, you’ll continue to be my muse forever.

His muse. You love the sound of that.

The sound of the pouring rain beat rhythmically on the glass window. For the next few hours your bed was your haven and Jungkook’s bare arms were your form of a warm blanket.

Although the clock on your night stand marked four o’clock, the day was as dark as night and as the sun refused to come out to play the dark nimbus clouds invaded the stretch of the expansive sky, refusing to allow even a single ray of light to illuminate your bedroom.

The power had gone out but the two of you had lit up some candles in various locations of your room. You were both in your underwear, semi-sticky with a thin layer of sweat coating your entire body as a result of the air conditioner no longer being on.

Even in the heat the two of you couldn’t untangle yourselves from each other.

“We’ve been laying here in the heat for hours,” his fingers raked over your shoulder and down to the middle of your back.

“There’s nowhere we can go to cool down for the day. I’m afraid these four walls are it for us today,” you complained.

“And moving will only make us hotter.”

“I think the two of us being tangled up like this is already making us hotter.”

His hands tightened around your waist, “yet there’s nothing you can say to let me go.”

“Then, it’s a good thing I don’t want you to let go,” you crossed your arms on his chest and laid your chin on them; looking up at him through your lashes taking in his figure as he laid back against the headboard.

“Why are you looking up at me like that?” he asked though his eyes were still closed.

“I just like having you. . here.”

“In your room?” he asked.

“In my life,” you confessed, “I guess I never thought we could make it here again.”

“I had faith—hope. I knew that eventually we would get to talk and forgive each other.”

Every fight and every bicker was a call to drive you closer to me. Immature I know, but it was all I could do and say to get close to you.

“You didn’t do anything wrong to me, Jungkook,” you traced lines over his collarbones leaving before sparks of electricity; you felt as they traveled down to the tip of your finger, “if anything I was constantly praying you’d forgive me.”

Forgiving you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.

“I walked away after Yeonjun’s party,” he caressed your cheeks with the pads to his finger, “that was my worst mistake and I knew exactly how it looked too; like I just hit it and quit it.”

“You didn’t hit it and quit it, Jungkook,” you sighed, “I did that to us. I was the one who walked away from us. None of it was your fault.”

“But I let you walk away. I didn’t fight for us.”

“Hey,” you cradled his face in your hands, “I didn’t let you fight for us. This is on me.”

But I never went searching for you. I just let you—walk away. The night you got up from that longue chair on the rooftop of Yeonjun’s house I thought that was our beginning; I just never thought it could be our end instead.

“It’s on us,” Jungkook leaned into your touch, softly moving his cheek against your palm, “but we can only work to overcome our past. . Together.”

You held onto the gold link looped around his neck, clutching it in order to pull him towards you until finally your faces were just an inch away from each other, “Together.”

“Kiss me, please,” his breath fanned across your lips as you continued guiding him closer and closer to you—his eyes were closed once again and he completely succumbed into this trance of your navigation. His lips were warm and velvet; parting slowly before they landed on yours. You became lost in the way your heartbeat continued beating faster and faster. The soft ballad of the steady thrumming tickled your ears and along with the taste of his mint lips on yours you began feeling a bit faint.

The room was still hot, the power was still out and you still sat on Jungkook’s lap but now you became exhilarated riding off the feelings in the way your body connected. It wasn’t just the kiss—no, it was also the way his electric touch began tracing the lines outlining your body, traveling down between your breasts, then down your stomach and up your sides until they rested on your hips. Jungkook’s fingers teasingly toyed around with the elastic waistband of your panties, rubbing small circles on your lower back.

You were breathless pulling away from that kiss but in between breaths you managed to pull his forehead against yours before allowing yourself to speak one again, “Jungkook, can I tell you something?”

He nodded.

“I-I want you, Jungkook,” your brain felt like it melted right into mush and there were no coherent thoughts in your head that didn’t revolve around Jungkook.

You were dickmatized. Yes, you were.

“You have me.”

“I want all of you.”

“Take it all,” he whispered.

Do anything you want to me. Do everything you want to me. Do whatever you want with me. I am yours for the taking.

You felt the beads of sweat strolling down your body accompanying the slight tremble in your every movement. Still, you moved with the facade of faux confidence and soon you found yourself straddling his thigh, sinking down against his heated and sticky skin. Indulging in a steady pace you began moving back and forth against his thigh all while holding onto his shoulder for support. Jungkook’s head fell back against the wall but his hands never left your waist guiding your movements to the quickened beat of desperation.

“You look so pretty riding my thigh. You know that?” he smirked; his cheeks were the tone of wine. Jungkook bit his lip to maintain focus on the sloppy motion he continued to maneuver.

You hummed entirely consumed by that heated feeling in between your thighs—entranced in the way his soft whimpers only guided you towards that very place where you could finally reach out and touch the stars.

“Fuck—fuck, keep going, yeah?” you stammered never ever wanting him to stop being the root of your every desire.

What gave her the impression that I’d stop? This. . Us, it just feels so right. I will never be able to live in a reality where the image of her getting off on my thigh could ever cease—not after today. Not ever.

“Just-just let me guide you, baby girl,” his voice was low and husk followed by a series of unpaced breaths.

“Take me there, Jungkook,” you moaned.

Oh, fuck—I’ll take you there baby. I’ll take you there. I’ll take you there.

His fingers dug into you while his fingernails left behind marks of deep crescents traced on your skin. The guidance of his movements was near animalistic and the fabric of your panties was now sticking to your juices and there was nothing you craved more than the desirous urge to unravel under the trance of Jungkook’s ministrations.

Back and forth; back and forth you moved reaching higher and higher as your fingertips brushed touch the points of the luminous star and before you knew your teeth sunk into his shoulders suppressing your moans and your hips no longer followed the rhythm he previously set and you were finally swimming in the night sky—so high; so satiated.

“Oh,” you breathed, “that-that was amazing.”

“You tired yet?” he asked.

“Not at all.”

Jungkook hugged your waist and flipped the two of you over; your bodies pressing together heatedly against the ocean of sheets, breathing heavily as your lips pressed together once again. His hands quickly dipped under the waistband of your panties reaching for your inner thigh, until you felt him press the pads of his fingers in between your folds smearing the combination of your juices. After his torturous teasing he slipped two fingers pumping them in and out of you quickly.

“Oh, baby,” he finally pulled away from your lips, allowing a string of whimpers to slip past your swollen lips, “you feel so fucking good.”

“Jungkook, faster please,” you rocked your hips to match the beat of his fingers moving in and out of you.

“Is that what you want?” he hummed, “tell me. You want to cum at the mercy of my fingers?”

“Yes-yes. That’s what I want please.”

Jungkook laid beside you on the bed with his face buried in the nape of your neck. His hand still worked diligently to get you off as he whispered soft praises against the shell of your ears. You were in your very own depiction of utopia—euphoric with stimulation of endorphins.

“I’m close-close, Jungkook,” you dragged your nails down his back, likely leaving streaks of red trails behind as he quickened his pace. Meanwhile, you felt your body temperature skyrocket and the knot in the pit of your stomach tightened until it could not become any tighter and for the second time that night you felt how the storm passed and once again you floated throughout the night sky.

While Jungkook strove to read your body like the ink inscripted into the pages of his favorite book; the absence of his wandering hands made you feel empty—as if you couldn’t really breathe. At all.

“What happened, baby girl?” his lips traveled downwards on your body while his hands finally worked to unclasp your bra, (two orgasms later you couldn’t believe you still had all your undergarments on), and now your breasts became the forefront of his attack and leisurely he took each nipple in between his teeth smirking at your gasps and shudders as a result of your sensitivity, “are you the one who can’t stand the rule of not touching today?”

“Ah—,” he lightly bit the side of your left breast before kissing it better, “the only thing I hate right now is that your dick isn’t in me right now.”

He laughed; the booming sounds struck just like the raucous cries of thunder just outside your windows, “what makes you think I’m gonna fuck you tonight?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I can feel how hard you are against my leg.”

“What? This?” Jungkook sat-up on the bed working to remove his boxers. When he finally did he discarded them to the pool of clothes somewhere on your bedroom floor while his cock sat before you like it had been a few days prior. Jungkook laid back down in front of you, placed a tender kiss on your forehead before he moved closer towards you, lifting your leg up and allowing it to rest on his hip. Once positioned he began rubbing the head of his cock against your clothed slit —especially focusing on the sensitive bud.

He traced the lines of your lips over and over until you couldn’t take it any longer and tears began filling your eyes and you chanted hastely begging him to fuck you right into the mattress.

“Please, Jungkook,” a needy whimpered rolled off your tongue, “please fuck me, please fuck me please.”

Jungkook was now on top of you and he reached down, moving your soaked panties to the side before he lined himself at your entrance. You closed your eyes anticipating that moment when his cock would slip in and stretch you out so good you’d feel full beyond relief. And just as you imagined he slowly pushed himself past your entrance, your mouth fell agape at the sensation of his cock invading you inch by inch.

The feeling was immeasurable and better than anything you’d ever felt before.

“Will you be okay if I move?” he asked almost out of breath.

You nodded frantically.

“Just let me know if you wanna stop at any point, okay?” he remained still.

You nodded once again.

Jungkook moved cautiously, setting a lento rhythm—almost as if he thought you’d break if he fucked into you too hard. His tattooed hand brushed your heated cheeks as he continued his agonizingly slow thrusts. The room was still silent for the most part except now in company to the pitter-patter of the pouring rain the two of you contributed your very own duet composed of his guttural groans mixed and your shaky pants.

His lips left sweet kisses behind on both of your cheeks, then your nose, your chin and lastly your forehead.

She looks so fucking beautiful like this; all sweaty and aroused just for me. Fucked out just for me. I’m so lucky. So lucky.

“Jungkook?” you tucked your bottom lip under your top row of teeth.

“Yes?”

“Deeper, please,” you whined, “not faster but harder. I want to feel you deep in me.”

Deeper? Fuck. She’s gonna be the death of me. I swear she is. I’ll fuck you just how you’d like baby girl. I’ll fuck you right.

“Okay—okay,” he stammered.

Jungkook stopped his movements and pulled out momentarily as he adjusted his position in between your legs. He grabbed both of them and wrapped them around his waist before pushing past your entrance once again, and yes, it felt just as jaw dropping as the first time. Jungkook’s pace remained lento except now whenever he was about to push back into you he made sure to lunge himself deeper causing the sounds of his skin slapping against yours to echo within the walls of your room.

“Oh, Jungkoook,” you let out a drawn-out moan, chanting his name repeatedly, “right-right there, oh, Jungkooook. Right there. Please don’t stop.”

He continued penetrating you just as you wanted until once again, for the third time that night, you were on the very edge of the planet. You could see the exact place where the sky met the earth. Trotting towards the phenom you felt the way your heartbeat quickened and finally as you approached you began clenching around him until you witnessed an explosion of stars behind your eyes; a feeling so blissful your knuckles turned white as you clutched the sheets underneath you in your grasp.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. .” he hissed pulling out quickly.

“What’s wrong?” you gasp at the feeling of emptiness now substituted by a ravenous void.

“I almost finished inside of you and we forgot to wear a condom,” his cock was held tightly in his hand.

You swiped your tongue on your lips, “would you like some help with that?”

“That is not how today is supposed to go,” he mocked.

“Fine,” you shrug, “but I was going to offer my body as an alternative.” Jungkook’s pupils become dilated, your words obviously peeking his interest, “come on my face, Jungkook.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Jungkook towered over you on the bed, kneeling right beside you on the bed—by now you were spent, too tired to do anything but lay there and admire the way his head hung back as he worked to find his release. The design of his tattoos followed suit beginning all the way from his shoulder blade, to his flexed and veiny bicep all the way down to the tight clasp of his finger around his shaft moving hastily from base to tip.

“Look at you, baby girl. All eager for me to come on you,” Jungkook said through clenched teeth, “you’re so naughty for me. All for me.”

“All for you, Jungkook,” you repeated, “I can’t wait to feel just how warm you’ll be on my face. Come on, baby. ”

Your mantra of praises rolled off your tongue semi-automatically but you were needy to feel his seed on you so you continued using your words to aid him in the process of jerking off. He continued moving his hand up and down his length until the tip became painted white with drops of pre-come.

“I’m almost—” he cried out; his guttural whimpers sent waves of glacial shivers interlacing with the ridges of your spine.

“Yes, Jungkook. Be a good boy.”

“I am a good boy,” his labored breathing came out in puffs, “I am. .”

“Then, come on baby. I’m waiting.”

Jungkook was immersed in what you knew was likely the build-up of his approaching release. His chest inflated and deflated rapidly, while the muscles in his stomach tightened accentuating his already sculpted physique while his cheeks turned a bright scarlet.

“I’m coming!” He cried out.

The spurts of his white semen painted your face as he worked himself to the very last drop. Even in his moment of release Jungkook was careful enough to aim towards your mouth and chin and you licked everything within reach of your tongue.

“Let me get a wet rag and I’ll clean you up okay?” Jungkook stood from the bed and placed a kiss on your forehead before walking towards your bedroom door and opening it up.

A few seconds went by and suddenly you heard a loud shriek and a plethora of muffled words which sounded a lot like your best friend, Hoseok. Not a lot of time went by before you saw Jungkook enter the room frantically before slamming the door shut and leaning against the wooden surface.

“Hoseok’s home?” you laughed.

“And Jimin.”

“And they saw?”

“Mhm.”

“Please remind me to never leave this room naked again.”

“Yes! Please remind him!” Hoseok yelled from just outside the door.

A bursting titter erupted between the two of you and Jungkook climbed back into bed with you before he helped you wipe off the mess he’d made on your body, then laid down beside you.

“Can I ask you something?” You began snuggling deeper into his embrace.

“Yes?.”

“Will you stay here tonight?” You asked barely above a whisper—barely audible.

Jungkook rested his chin on the crook of your neck, “of course, I’ll stay with you tonight.”

There was no place you’d rather be than embraced in the solace of Jungkook’s warmth.

Tonight, tomorrow, and forever after that.

I’ll always stay with you.

an: you know what im about to say right? ignore the smut scene ~if you must~ it literally took me like two weeks to write because my brain wasn’t working >.<

i literally started working on this like a week before seven released…. *gulps*

#bts #bts smut #bts angst #bts reactions #bts imagines #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #bts jungkook smut #bts jungkook au #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabble #mentions of literally every member + txt’s yeonjun

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nickfowlerrr · 1 year

Note

Hey! Such a fan of your work. Do you still take requests for pwyc Bucky? Is there any chance you could do a reader having a down day bit? Been having a hard time lately and I find so much of myself in her and Bucky soothes the soul. NO worries if not, or if you’re trying to enjoy the holidays and not be put on a downer. So grateful for your work x

pretty when you cry series masterlist

bad day

pairing: pwyc!bucky x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. female receiving smut. comfort fic. if i’m missing something you think should be tagged, pls let me know!

words: 2.3k

notes: thank you so much for sending this in. i have been feeling much the same lately so i was really glad to write this little drabble. i hope you find some comfort in it and hopefully it can help brighten up your monday 🖤 sending you love and wishing you a happy holiday season, anon! and to everyone else who reads this, too. 🥰

“Sweetheart?”

Bucky’s voice called out into the silence of the house, receiving no answer in response. All the lights were off, letting him know you hadn’t been downstairs, at least not since the sun started to set.

He knew something was wrong, he had been feeling it all day. He was worried about you, texted you repeatedly and tried to call when he got a chance, but you didn’t answer. If he could have left that meeting with Stark earlier, he would have in a heartbeat. He’d been itching to get home since he started feeling something was off with you. Steve called him out on not paying attention to much of what was being said at the meeting, but he couldn’t have cared less. He was antsy and on edge, annoyed at every question he was asked and clearly irritated any time someone spoke directly to him. The only thing on his mind was you.

“Baby,” he called out, softer as he approached the door to your shared room.

He had no idea what was wrong, but the heaviness he had felt from you all day was starting to get near paralyzing. It was like you were overwhelmed and completely numb at the same time. All he wanted to do was comfort you, make you feel better. Whatever he could, whatever you needed him to do, he would do. He couldn’t take feeling this much longer knowing it was all radiating from you. You must’ve been drowning at that point, the weight of these unknown emotions hadn’t let up all day except the few times you had probably fallen asleep.

Still not getting a response from you, Bucky quietly opened the door and walked in to find you lying on the bed still in the pajamas you were wearing when he left you this morning. You were curled up on his side of the bed, cuddling with his pillow, a delicate pout on your lips as you stared at nothing, breathing steady. Your eyes were bleary when you looked up as he came in.

“Hi,” he said softly, moving to sit next to where you laid on the bed. His hand immediately going to your back, running it up and down soothingly.

You didn’t respond right away, instead letting go of his pillow that you’d been using as a surrogate for him, and grabbing his arm, urging him to lay with you. He got the hint right away and let you pull him down before he adjusted himself so he was facing you better. Your arms wrapped around him and you buried your face in his neck as he returned your embrace.

“Hi,” you mumbled against him.

“What’s wrong, princess?”

“Noth-”

“Don’t say ‘nothing’,” he cut you off before you could finish replying.

You closed your mouth, thinking briefly before deciding not to answer.

Bucky allowed the silence as he returned to rubbing your back, taking a breath as the ache in his chest eased just the slightest.

“Bad day,” you finally responded quietly.

“That makes two of us,”

“Sorry,” you winced at the reminder that he was forced to feel what you had been feeling.

“Don’t be. All I wanted to do today was be here with you,” he assured you.

It was quiet again before he heard your small sniffling and the dampness of your cheeks on his skin as you nuzzled even further into him.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, doll. I got you, you’re okay,” he cooed as he leaned down to place a kiss on top of your head.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong. I’ve been feeling this all week, I know you’ve been trying to push it off,”

“I just,” you took a breath before trailing off, not knowing how to explain properly.

“You can tell me anything,” he reminded you.

“I know, I just..”

All words left your head, any semblance of an explanation you could try and offer went flying right out of the window. Not being able to pinpoint it only made it that much worse. He was asking a sensible question. What was wrong?

What was wrong?

What is wrong? Why are you feeling like this?

Why don’t you have a single fucking idea as to why you’re feeling so…bad.

Your heartbeat picked up and so did your breathing. You were trying to find a reason, just one. But you couldn’t. You just felt like this. No real logic to it. You couldn’t give him an answer and you only made yourself feel worse knowing you were making him feel the same.

“I don’t know,” you cried, dejectedly into his neck. More tears falling freely now.

“Shhh,” he whispered into your hair, cradling you against him now. “It’s okay, baby. ‘S’okay.”

You calmed as he held you, feeling slightly better having acknowledged that you were feeling bad instead of fighting the feeling as it had been threatening to drag you down all week, trudging through each day and only finding any kind of reprieve when Bucky was near. Your breath was beginning to steady when he pulled you back from him slightly, looking in your glassy eyes before he gently wiped the remaining tears from your face and you leaned into his hand.

“Have you eaten today?” he questioned.

“No,” you answered, looking away from him, feeling embarrassed that you hadn’t really left your room at all. You had started getting ready in the morning, lazily brushed your teeth and even washed your face. You were going to get in the shower, but when you went to start it, decided to do it later. You just felt so tired still. You crawled back into bed and slept for another hour before you awoke. You felt even worse then. Bucky had left and you had no distractions from the black cloud that had been following you around lately. So you just let it storm over you. Sleeping on and off throughout the day and wallowing in self pity and despair when you were awake. Everything and nothing was wrong all at once. But now, as you were coming back to yourself, your lack of living today was clear and you felt stupid and lazy for it.

“I need to shower,” you mumbled, moving to get off of him. He held you down, keeping you in his embrace, not letting you up just yet.

“I’m gonna make you dinner, first,” he told you.

“Okay,” you allowed as you looked up at him to meet his eye, “Well, I can shower while you make it,” you suggested, thinking it was the obvious course of action.

“No,” he stated, with a shake of his head as he held your eye. You furrowed your brow in response. “We’re gonna shower after,” he told you.

“We?” you repeated softly, looking him in his eyes. The warmth and affection that swam in them was comforting as he nodded before pulling your face closer to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Then I’ll light a fire and we can watch that show you keep telling me about. How’s that sound?”

“Good,” you answered, nodding slightly. “Honestly…Anything’s good as long as you’re here,” you simpered.

“Someone’s feeling sappy,” he smirked, repeating the words you always shoot at him when he gets too sentimental or cheesy on you, earning a light eye roll and smile from you at his teasing as you laid your head back down on his chest, taking another moment to just relax in his arms.

“Actually, can we just.. I don’t know, order pizza? Then we can shower right now and just go downstairs to eat and watch the show when it gets here.”

He nodded in response.

“We can definitely do that,” he agreed, a relaxed smile on his face as he felt the heaviness slowly lifting from you.

You pulled yourself up again, this time he let you go as he sat up, grabbing his phone from his pocket to place your usual order. You wandered into the bathroom, starting the shower to let the water warm up before you began to slowly take your clothes off. You were stepping out of your sweats as Bucky came in behind you, tugging you to him. You leaned back against him as he hugged you before his hands found the hem of your tank top, slowly pulling it up and over your head. He nudged you toward the shower that was beginning to fog up already as he began to undress.

You stood under the water, the warmth helping you relax further. Your body felt so sore though you hadn’t done a thing all day. As Bucky got in with you, his arms wrapped around your waist and you sighed at the added relief he brought you. You stood there for a while, swaying in his arms slightly as the water fell on the both of you. Eventually, his arms slipped from around you and when his touch returned, he was gently washing your body, the suds of your soap slowly washing down your skin with the stream of water that was directly above you. Bucky placed soft kisses on every area of your body he washed for you, worshiping every inch of you. He knew you weren’t feeling great, but he wanted you to know how much he loved you - and how incredible you were to him. He needed you to know he would always be there for you, no matter what. On your best days and your worst. He wasn’t going anywhere.

It was like you could feel his love for you radiating off of him and it warmed you. You grabbed his hand as he dragged it back up your hip once you were done washing off. You turned to him and wrapped your own arms around his torso, your hands now traveling up and down his back as you rested your head on his chest. He didn’t force you to talk, didn’t need you to explain. He just understood. Intuitively, instinctively. He knew what you needed right now.

You needed someone to be there.

You were so used to being alone, relying on no one but yourself, but it got tiring after a while. Having no other choice but to stay strong. Things were different now and you knew that. You knew you had Bucky, and you knew you didn’t have to be so strong all the time, but old habits die hard.

When you were together like this, though, you were reminded that you could let yourself feel. It was okay to break down because he’d be right there to pick you back up.

“You okay, princess?”

“‘M’okay,” you nodded. “Bucky, I...Thank you,” you whispered as you looked up to him, one hand reaching up to touch him, your thumb stroking his cheek as your nails gently raked along his neck and into his hair before pulling him down to kiss him softly, lips brushing delicately before you kissed him a bit harder, pressing yourself closer to him.

“I love you,” you breathed against his lips.

“I love you,” he responded, leaning down to kiss you again.

You stayed like that for another minute, just holding each other.

You grimaced as your stomach suddenly grumbled, the hunger you hadn’t even noticed just an hour ago now making itself known.

“I think I might be hungry,” you admitted as Bucky chuckled.

“That’s what happens when you don’t eat all day,” he lightly admonished. “Let’s finish up in here, by the time we’re done the pizza should be here.”

“What do you mean ‘finish up’? I thought we were done?” you said, confused. You’d both washed up and rinsed off - hair and body. You had thought you were both ready to get out and dry off.

“No, I’m not done with you just yet,'' he said as his hand slipped down between your bodies, his knee nudging your legs apart carefully. You leaned further into him as his fingers found their way to your sensitive folds, rubbing you gently before he slipped two of his thick digits into your tight heat as you gasped and shuddered against him, keeping your balance by holding onto his shoulders while he cooed in your ear, whispering sweet nothings to you as he pumped his fingers expertly in and out of you, curling them perfectly, hitting your sweet spots just right as you let out breathy moans at the stimulation. His thumb began rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit as he coaxed you to your orgasm, working you through your high once the pleasure finally overtook you, the white hot warmth erupting through you as you held onto him, muscles tensing and thighs shaking as you came.

You were trying to catch your breath as he suddenly picked you up by your thighs, making you wrap them around his waist. He kissed you again, stealing your breath as he did before you pulled away, nearly gasping as you rested your forehead against his.

“How long do we have until they get here?”

“Long enough,” he breathed huskily, crashing his lips into yours once again. You moaned into his mouth, mewling as you felt his erection throbbing against you, nearly teasing your entrance with the angle he was holding you at.

“Tell me what you want, pretty girl,” he said as he nuzzled his face into your neck.

“You,” you sighed. “I want you.”

You pulled his face back to yours, kissing him as gently as you could, trying to get across how grateful you were that he was there, and how much love you had for him, how much you felt for him as he held you so surely, so securely in his arms.

“Always you.”

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky x plus size!reader #pwyc!bucky x curvy!reader #pwyc series #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut

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ddejavvu · 10 months

Note

stepdad!aaron request perhaps

it’s summer and reader is in and out of the pool in the backyard and steps inside to get a drink after a while still dripping wet with a clinging bathing suit and aaron tries to act innocent like he wasn’t staring at r through the window but he can’t help it i mean he’s only a man and how easy would it be to just slide the bikini bottoms out of the way and then r catches him staring (fantasizing) and calls him out and smut follows

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

this post is 18+ (and so are its characters) and dark, minors dni. (cw: stepcest; don't like, don't read).

the plotline that you described was too long for a blurb so i just took the idea of him seeing her in her bathing suit and did what I could!

Aaron isn't paying much attention to the pool party outside, because there's work to do in the form of numerous reports on his desk. Witness reports that he needs to pair with their crimes, ME reports he needs to sign off on and tuck away into files, budget reports that he needs to stuff with receipts so that the higher-ups know that yes, they did need to stop for gas four times in Florida, the numbers aren't a mistake. His world feels like a never-ending mountain of paperwork until he hears the sliding glass door open, and he glances to his left where he sits in his office to find you sliding your wet flip-flops off onto the pavement before stepping inside.

You're dripping wet, but there's a towel over your shoulders that catches the runoff from your bathing suit. You grin sheepishly at him, muttering a quick, "Hey," as you reach for a packet of chips from the bowl on the counter.

"How's it going out there?" He asks, head suddenly grounded on his shoulders and no longer buried beneath paperwork. He leans back in his chair, all too content to see you take a seat at the barstool to munch on your snack before returning outside. You turn to face him in your chair and the cut of your bathing suit is on full display, wrapped tightly around your thighs and showcasing the droplets of water you'd missed with your towel that rest on the supple skin there.

"Jack and his friends are a handful," You glance back outside, "I wasn't even that hungry, I just needed a break from their splashing."

"I don't blame you," He chuckles, setting his pen down, work long forgotten, "Once you're an adult, splashing isn't as fun as it is irritating."

You grin at his comment, "Are you gonna get out there too, Aaron? I don't think I've ever seen you in swim trunks."

Briefly, Aaron wonders if you want to. Though he's not sure he'd look as good in trunks as you do in a bikini, so he might elect to just watch you from the sidelines.

"I don't even think I have swim trunks," He chuckles, "But I might sit out there for a while and get some sun. Garcia says I'm inside too much, and that I need a tan before I turn invisible."

"She's a smart woman," You laugh at the imagery, "Come on, Aaron, take a break and come sit in the sun with me for a bit." You stand, chips held in one hand and towel clasped in the other, "I need someone to help me reapply sunscreen, anyways, I'm not trying to get skin cancer."

He can't say no to rubbing lotion into your back.

"Alright," He stands, abandoning his paperwork and opening the sliding door for you, a hand on your back as he leads you back outside, "This bathing suit's pretty on you, honey."

You turn back to him and grin from where you're already popping the cap off of the sunscreen, chips set on the table beside the deck chairs, "I knew you'd like it. That's why I bought it, you always like me in red."

You barely give him any time to process your admission before you're turning to put your back towards him once more, holding one hand over your chest while the other tugs at your bathing suit strap to pull it out of its neat bow, "Can you re-tie it after you're done, Aaron? I can't reach."

He takes the sunscreen from you, glad you aren't facing him to watch him both blush and chub up beneath his thick jeans as he smears the sunscreen over your back and begins rubbing the substance smoothly into your skin, "Yeah, sweetheart, I'll tie it."

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disarm-you · 1 month

Text

Can I Show You How Sorry I Am?

Pairing: Frank Castle x F! Bartender reader

Summary: You and Frank had been hooking up for several months and then he dropped off the face of the earth. Six months later, he walks back into your bar and has some explaining to do.

Word Count: 3,520

a/n: This is smut heavy but nothing crazy. It was intended to be a smutty porn with plot one shot but I really enjoyed writing this. In fact, I have some loose ideas on making this into a series. Diving into reader’s background and exploring what a relationship with The Punisher would look like. How a serious relationship for Frank would play out. If you’re interested in more, please let me know!

I’m going on vacation in a few weeks and then I will be cutting down my hours at work. I expect to get more stories out starting this summer! As always, a friendly reminder that reblogs are the best way to support writers on here. XOXO

Looking up from the bar, you see the door swing open just as your coworker yells out last call. Curiosity sparked- today had been abnormally easy. Or maybe it was a good day made better under the lense of a full night’s sleep. The weather had been beautiful all afternoon-clear skies, light wind and full sun. You were able to relax outside and soak up a few rays of sun before work, letting its heat warm up your tired bones.

Work was comfortably steady and a few regulars left you a larger than usual tip today. Life recently threw you a major curveball but you were set on enjoying the sunshine while it’s here, because the moon will always come around again.

Nothing could have prepared you for the shock of seeing Frank step into the room. It had been, what, over six months since you last saw him? Your eyes were staring at him but you couldn’t seem to focus on one spot. They moved from his deep eyes, down to his black hoodie and the combat boots you loved. You noted that he looked a bit thinner than the last time you saw him and he had one hell of a black eye and split lip. Your back stiffened as you tried to process all your emotions. You were pleased to know he was alive but anger and sadness panged across your chest as you thought about the past year.

You two had never made it official but you had been sleeping together frequently enough that his sharp absence from your life hurt. You and Frank met in the same bar that you were currently in. You were new to the city and Frank was a welcome respite from the coldness New York could offer. He would show up several times a week, somehow always on nights you worked. He would walk you home and you two would enjoy a night cap or three with the evening ending in him making you see God. All of the pleasure and none of the drama. But as time and nature would have it, you managed to catch feelings. You tried to keep them buried, telling yourself he didn’t feel the same. You were too afraid of scaring him off, so you never verbalized your feelings.

However, he skipped a Monday night, which was unusual for him. Concern creeped in when he didn’t visit you three shifts in a row. And then weeks passed and you were consumed with worry about his safety and eventually you began to fear the absolute worst.

Inhaling deeply, you manage to look up as Frank approaches you. “Hey Sweetheart” he says softly, while making eye contact with you.

A flaming arrow shot a deadly blow to your heart as soon as you met his puppy dog eyes. The smell of his cologne hit your nostrils and lit a fire low in your belly. Rat fucking bastard.

Tears began to well in the corners of your eyes but you weren’t certain if they were from sadness, rage, or pent up sexual frustration with this big, dumb, beautiful man standing in front of you.

Your coworker walked by, noticing the change in your body language. “Is everything ok over here?” He asks, looking between the two of you.

“Yeah, it is. Um, actually, would it be ok if I took off a bit early tonight? I need to deal with something.”

“Of course, but you owe me one! Text me if you need anything.” Winking at you before he walked back to his station.

“Hey Frank. It’s nice to see you.” Deciding to err on the side of kindness. After all, he did show back up to see you. You might as well hear him out, even if you did give him your customer service tone.

“I know it’s been a while and that’s my fault. Can we go back to my place and talk?”

My place. The words echoed in your head. Previously, the two of you only ever hooked up at your apartment and even then he rarely bothered to stay the night.

“Yeah, actually that would be nice. Let me go get my things and I will meet you outside.”

____________

“So, this is your place, eh?” You ask, trying to keep your tone light as you surveyed the area. Noting the bare walls, sparse furniture and dumbbells stuffed in the corner, it was obvious a single man lived here. However, what you couldn’t tell is if this is a new place or if he dropped you for a different fling and was hiding out this past half year.

“Yeah, it is. Want something to drink?”

”Mmmhmm, beer’s good if you got it.”

You two sat on his futon, taking the first sip,

“Why haven’t I seen your place before you?” You ask, nerves building up in your chest as you put off the real questions you wanted to ask him.

Sighing deeply, Frank glances away until finally making eye contact.“When we first met, I knew I wasn’t going to be in town for much longer. I didn’t think that I would be back once I left.”

Frank then sat down his beer, picking up your free hand and cradling it with his. “But I really enjoyed our nights together. And I kept coming around your bar, while I put off the work I needed to do.”

Inhaling sharply you say, ”Listen, I understand that we never had the relationship ‘talk’ but Frank, we were fucking pretty regularly and then you just disappeared. Poof, gone in the blink of an eye. I feel like you at least owed me a see ya later before running off.” You say, taking a large swig of your beer, trying to calm the nerves that swirled in your chest. You hope he doesn’t notice the way your hand is shaking as you sit it back down. Or the tears welling in your eyes again. Thankfully, he couldn’t hear your heart thumping as you anxiously waited for him to respond.

“You’re right Darlin’ and I��m sorry that I didn’t talk to you.” He swallowed thickly and you could catch the slightest gruff in his voice. “I thought it would be less painful if I just disappeared. But when I was gone, I couldn’t get you out of my head. I missed your smile and your laugh. I missed the way your hand feels in mine. I missedâ€¦ the feelings you brought up in me. When the job was over I decided to make my home here, maybe even with you.”

Sighing roughly, you move to sit back, trying to process everything that’s happening. Frank adjusts so you can lean into his torso.You close your eyes and he moves his arm around your shoulder, which softened a bit of the emotions flooding you.

“You know I waited around for weeks, hoping you would show up. And when you never did, I thought you had died. The worst part is that I didn’t have anyone to ask. You always come in alone and I didn’t even know your last name so I kept checking local obituaries-”

Frank noticed the panic in your voice and brought his free hand under your chin, tilting your face up and forcing you into eye contact.

“Castle”

”â€¦What?” You ask while your brain is trying to catch up.

“My last name is Castle.” He whispers, bringing his thumb up to trace your lower lip. He pauses, looking at you questioningly.

You had so many questions running through your mind but being back in his arms reminded you of all the nights you spent wrapped up in your bed. The smell of him being so close to you was intoxicating. Before you knew it the rush of hormones hit your brain as you involuntarily move your face towards him, locking lips ever so sweetly.

Despite their injury, his lips are somehow softer than you remember and your heart rate picks up as he moves his hands up to cup your face. Frank is taking his time with you tonight, enjoying the brushing of your lips together as if it was the first time he’s kissed you. The moment is tender and softer than your previous encounters.

All too quickly though he pulls away. Your breath hitches and you involuntarily grab at his sweater, trying to tug him close again.

“Can I show you how sorry I am?” Frank pleaded as his lips hovered over yours.

“Please.” You replied shakily as you clamber into Frank's lap, reveling in the groan it exudes from Frank.

You shiver as he runs his warm hands up your sides and along your back. You kiss him deeply, one hand splayed across his chest while the other gripped his hair tightly, hoping that it was enough to keep him here in front of you.

You slowly grind into his lap as you part your lips against Frank’s. He takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth while shoving your hips together.

“Do you see what you fucking do to me?” He growled as he thrusted his hips up into yours, grinding his growing bulge against you.

You whined in response as you pulled your shirt over your head. Without hesitating, Frank reached up and deftly unhooked your bra, tossing it to the side and gently cupped your beasts with both of his hands.

Your head dizzying with want, you lean forward to kiss Frank, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth as his large hands fondled your breasts.

Breaking away, he kisses down your neck until he reaches your chest. Moving his head to the side, he slips a nipple into his mouth teasing you until you issued your fist moan of the evening.

Chuckling, Frank moves his focus to your other breast and you loudly moan as you feel the buzzing want for him run up and down your body. You so deeply missed the way you just melt into his touch. It had been a lonely six months since Frank’s disappearance, not for lack of desire though.

You were often hit on by men at your job but most of them were a huge turnoff. Drunk and aggressively flirting with you until you declined their offer and getting angry when you wouldn’t give them your number. But you stayed at this job since the extra cash on hand greatly supplemented your primary job.

You did briefly consider yourself spending the night with a gorgeous blonde woman who came into the bar. She had the most beautiful blue eyes that you could get lost in. Except you couldn’t tell if she was flirting with you or if she was just incredibly nice. You were too hesitant to make the first move. That didn’t stop you from thinking about her as you touched yourself that night. But that was last month and you haven’t seen her come back in.

And right now all you were focusing on was Frank and how you don’t think you’ve fully relaxed since he left. You are unabashedly grinding in his lap, arching your back into his kisses as his hands worshiped your body.

“Frank, pleaseâ€¦” you rasped as he popped his mouth off your nipple and brought you in closer to him.

“Please, what darlin.” He whispered as he pressed your foreheads together.

“I just need you to touch me so badly.” You softly whimpered as you pulled at the collar of his shirt.

“I got you girl.”

You squeal with glee as he wraps his arms tightly around you and stands up. You revel in the safety of his arms, feeling his huge biceps press you up against his firm chest. His strength was one of your favorite physical qualities in Frank. You felt so secure tangled up in him. But despite his strength, he was gentle with his touches to you. He was far kinder to you then a few men in your past. In fact, Frank never used force on you, unless of course you asked him to.

Your mind briefly wandered back to an intense night where you were pinned to the bed with his leather belt in your mouth, hand pulling your hair taughtly, thrusting into you unforgivablyâ€¦.

Frank placing you down on the bed brought you back to reality. Shamelessly watching him as he took off his shirt. The clinking of his belt reminded you of its taste in your mouth and you hurriedly removed the rest of your clothes.

You attempt to slide to the top of the bed but Frank grabs your legs.

“Oh no.” He clicks his tongue while dragging you down to the edge of the bed. “Just where do you think you’re going Ma’am? I owe you an apology.” He cooed, while kneeling on the floor, kissing your inner knee up to your inner thighs

Your skin prickles and your breath hitches as Frank sucked some of the tender skin on your inner thigh into his mouth. Enjoying the reaction from you, he takes his free hand and traces a finger up the seam of your pussy.

You gasp sharply. “Frank, please.” You desperately begged. “You’re being so mean to me.”

Everything about you was driving Frank wild. Your scent was lingering in his nose, leaving him heady with want, how tense the muscles in your thighs are while you were so willingly spread out for him and finally the desire in your eyes is what drove him to splay you open with his index and middle fingers before he starting flicking your clit with his tongue.

Your moans had him groaning as he continued lapping you up. He moved the fingers that were spreading you open lower, teasing your entrance. He briefly enjoyed your gasps of pleasure before slipping two fingers into your wetness, which caused you to inhale sharply as you clenched around him.

Frank slightly leans back and looks up at you. “Yeah, you like that?” He curls his fingers to hit that sweet spot inside you. “Be good and take it.” He husked before sucking on the inside of your thigh.

His words sparked an anger in you- how dare this man come back and then act like this but oh my god did he know how to work you up. And that spark was like gasoline on a fire and you were already so close to coming.

Frank could tell by how tightly you were gripping his fingers. Pulling off your thigh with a wet pop, he brings his mouth back to your clit and it was over. Trails of fire ran up and down your body before dissolving into pleasure.

Frank slowed down to draw out your orgasm as much as he could, waiting until you were whimpering with overstimulation before gently removing his fingers from you.

Still breathing deeply, you open your eyes to find Frank looking at you, while sucking your juices off his fingers. His eyes were a blaze with desire for you, which made your heart start pounding again.

“Frank, I want you.”

He barely heard you over the blood buzzing in his ears. Frank stood up and got on to the bed, encouraging you to move back further. He placed the sole pillow on his bed under your head, making sure you were comfortable before kissing you hard.

You instinctively moved down to help remove his boxers. Once freed, you savored the weight of him in your hand. He was deliciously thick and you can’t help but to start firmly rubbing him. You bring a thumb to the head of his cock rubbing the pre cum down his shaft. Now it was your turn to relish in the noises he was making

Frank was so sensitive that just a small amount of touching had him gently thrusting in your hand, lowly grunting with your firm touch. His enthusiasm reminded you how empty you were. You wordlessly guide him to you, teasing his head up and down your sopping folds until pausing at your entrance. He replaced your hand with his and you moved your hips to slot his.

The pressure of him against your entrance was leaving you lightheaded. The gasps you were making had Frank teeming with desire but he was determined to take his time. Pressing ever so gently he pushed just the head of him inside you as he began to lean down towards you. You tried to buck your hips up into him but he stopped you.

Fully leaning over you, he placed one of his forearms to your side, hooking it around the crown of your head. His other hand held your jaw firmly in place. Staring deeply into your eyes he says, “I’m so fucking sorry I left. I won’t leave you again unless you tell me to.” He pleaded as he buried himself in you.

“Oh fuck yes’ Frank.” You cried out as he pressed your foreheads together.

“I fucking missed you, sweetheart.” He roughly whispered.

“I missed you too.” You choked out, trying to hold back the tears in your eyes. Frank lowered the hand that was on your chin to the other side of your head as he started rocking into you, setting a pleasurable pace for the both of you. He slowly moves his hips until your breath hitches. That’s when he knows he’s got the right angle. You cry out as he rocks into a little harder, causing you to grab on to his shoulders.

Sweat was beginning to leave a light sheen on the both of you as more heat began to generate from where you two were connected. Frank was applying soft kisses on your neck and the little huffs he was breathing near your ear made you clench around him tighter.

You noticed his chest flushing and you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Franks brings one hand down, and slips it between the two of you and circled your clit, while kissing you deeply. The pleasure of being surrounded by Frank- his weight on top of you, cock filling you, his scent surrounding you, his tongue flicking into your mouth- was overwhelming after all this time.

You pull away, wanting to save the moment in fear of him slipping away from you again.

“You’re really going to stay this time?” You quietly stuttered in between his thrusts.

“Yes darlin. I’m always going to be here.” He grunted. He could feel you getting tighter again and your whines were music to his ears as he kept his current rhythm. Your fingers tighten against his shoulder, leaving little half moons in it’s wake and your back involuntarily arches as you splinter once more from reality.

Your pussy is squeezing Frank so hard that he can’t hold himself back any longer. His body stiffens and he groans out as he fills you with his cum.

You can’t stop the tears from spilling out and streaming down the side of your face during your come down. All of the fear, anger and worry that had been pent up all came rushing out and it was simply too much. He didn’t try to silence you or make you stop. Frank simply held you and wiped away your tears.

“I’m sorry I’m crying so much.” You sniffled, trying to slow yourself down.

“It’s ok Angel, are you alright?”

You nodded your head yes as Frank carefully removed himself from you. You winced from the loss of contact but he softly pulled you into him as he laid down onto his side.

Your crying had slowed down and the weight of reality was setting back in. Your mind started racing with questions. Did he really mean what he said? What does this mean for the two of you? Were you ready for a commitment like this? So many thoughts racing in your head and you settle on one.

“Frank?” You quietly ask, face still buried in his chest while his hands were rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Earlier you said that you were putting off a job. What did you have to go do?”

Swallowing thickly, Frank closed his eyes. He knew that coming back meant coming clean and you might not be interested when you find out who he really is. And maybe that conversation should have come first but old habits have a way of dying hard.

“I will answer all of your questions in the morning. Would you like to stay tonight?”

“Can we take a shower?” You ask as you nod your head in agreement, attempting to ignore a new ball of anxiety beginning to form. What could this man be hiding from you? “Or do you only have one towel as well? You teasingly ask, partly as a way to distract you from your own mind.

“You’re in luck because I have two and they are both clean. I’ll go start the water. Come and join me when you’re ready” Frank kisses the top of your head before getting out of bed and padding to the bathroom.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x fem!reader #the punisher #the punisher smut #soft frank castle

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iamtheholyghost · 8 months

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My Rebecca Welton x Reader fic is finished!

AO3 link here.

Title: I could do the shit that he never did

Rating: Explicit, NSFW, 18+ ⚠️

Summary: The sun rays hit Rebecca's skin as you both lay in her bed. You watched her gently breathing and the beautiful glow on her skin.

Rebecca pulled you into a kiss and you moaned when her hand slid between your legs. You arched your back and your hand gripped her neck while the other held on to her shoulder.

The after effects of the alcohol still lingered and you reached over to grab the glass of water on the side table. The sun rays hit Rebecca's skin as you both lay in her bed. You watched her gently breathing and the beautiful glow on her skin.You gently played with her hair and shuffled closer to her warmth. She stretched out and wrapped her arm around your hip. Rebecca's phone buzzed on her bedside table and she grumbled reaching over to grab it.

"Aw fuck," she said sitting up.

"What's wrong?"

She showed the caller id which read "Keeley" you laughed.

"She set us up and it fucking worked," you chuckled.

"I don't like giving her the satisfaction," Rebecca smirked.

"I'm gonna find my clothes and make up an excuse to work as to why I'm not in the office again," Rebecca smiled in response and stroked your back before you left her bed.

"But you're not working til Monday?"

"Yeah it's to prepare them, I'd rather extend my stay here than go home," You arched your brow and smirked. Rebecca gave you a cheeky grin then focused on her phone.

You heard Keeley's screeching down the phone and laughed. Rebecca of course told her you spent the night. She screeched again and then Rebecca just sighed and said “yes.”

You gathered your clothes and gave your boss a text saying you'd be working from home on Monday. You tossed your phone onto the side table and placed your clothes neatly where you'd find them. You didn't want to get dressed yet. You enjoyed the fact that you and Rebecca were both completely naked, lipstick marks and bites were dotted over your pale skin. Rebecca had some marks on her shoulders and on her chest. You wished you remembered last night more vividly, rather than the random flashbacks.

Rebecca put her phone under her pillow and sighed. You laughed and straddled her, her slender hands slid up and down your waist.

"I say we don't give a shit what people say and we finish what we started last night,"you said in between kisses across her neck.

'Ha, I believe you're the one who finished dear," Rebecca smiled.

"Just means I fucking owe you doesn't it," You bit around her collarbone and down her chest. Rebecca gasped and tried to remain composed.

"Yeah, it does," she grinned. "I do have my own ideas first,"

Her slender fingers pushed between your folds and rubbed teasing circles around your clit.

"God." you moaned.

Rebecca attacked your neck with bites and kisses. You rocked your hips into her hand making soft low moans that made her grin.

"I'm going to make you beg me to make you come, then you can have your fun," Rebecca growled in your ear. The only reply you could muster was rocking your hips harder into her hand. You could feel yourself coating her fingers with each movement of your hips. Rebecca slid two fingers inside you and you gasped, loudly whining into her neck. She dug her nails into your hip as you rocked yourself on top of her.

"Jesus christ, fuck." you panted.

"Are you going to beg me?" Rebecca teased as she pulled you in for a deep kiss still working her fingers between your legs. Rebecca repeated what she said but slowed her movements which caused you to cry out needily.

"No, don't stop." you cried.

Rebecca wrapped her free hand round your throat and sat up so you could use her to balance. It also gave her more control which she wanted. Those manicured fingers dug into your throat slowly and her eyes pierced into yours. The hand between your legs had stopped and you had to give in, you wanted her badly.

"Please 'becca, fuck me," you gasped wrapping your smaller hand around hers.

Rebecca grinned and flipped you over so you were on your back. You took a moment to take in Rebecca's beautiful body, muscular arms, strong shoulders, long legs and incredible breasts. She truly was breathtaking. You went to put your hands between your legs but Rebecca grabbed your wrists pinning them above your head. Her tongue traced over your collarbone slowly and you whined.

"I begged you, what's with the fucking teasing!?" you exclaimed, wriggling underneath the taller woman above.

"I didn't tell you to touch yourself, you didn't get permission so you're being punished for being a bad girl," her silky smooth tone almost melted you and you swear you made a mess of her sheets.

"Fuck," you whined shuffling under her grip.

Rebecca smiled, eyeing the very vulnerable position you were in. Her lips ghosted yours as she took in the situation. You could tell she absolutely loved this, loved being in charge and loved that you did as she asked.

"Leave them there," Rebecca ordered. She let go of your hands, you didn't dare move them. You ached for her touch so badly. She straddled you showing off her beautiful curves. Her green eyes scanned over your body, she took your breasts in her hands and you whined. Her slender fingers kneaded and caressed them. She took great pleasure in teasing your hardening nipples. Rebecca attacked your neck with bites and sloppy open mouthed kisses marking her territory.

"You fuckin' marking me huh?" you grinned though shaking breaths.

"You're full of attitude this morning aren't you?" Rebecca grinned resting her forehead on yours. "What if I don't let you come and I make you watch me? You watch me touch and moan but you have to go the whole day unsatisfied and dripping, with no release," Rebecca sneered. She had such a sinister tone to her voice and pressed light kisses to your neck.

Rebecca sat up right, adjusting her position. Those muscly thighs squeezing your body a few times while she straddled you. Her hand dipped between her long legs as she started to moan. Fuck she looked utterly gorgeous.

"Can I touch you, please, Rebecca?" you asked. It took everything you could not to touch yourself or her without permission. Rebecca grinned and gasped as her long fingers worked between her folds.

"Move your hands to my hips."

You did as she asked and placed them on her body, her soft skin and beautiful shape under your touch. You watched in awe as Rebecca moved her fingers through her folds moaning and shuffling on top of you. You almost lost your mind when she bit her bottom lip. You wanted to taste her again, it would take your mind away from the aching between your legs. You could hear how wet Rebecca was by the motion of her fingers, moving around her and sliding inside her. She gasped and grabbed her boob. You dug your fingers into her hips, tightening your grip possibly leaving marks.

"Bite me," she gasped repositioning so you could get into the soft flesh of her breasts.

You didn't need to be told twice, you nibbled at her skin and used your tongue to sooth the gentle bites and Rebecca moaned deeply. You sucked and bit being careful not to leave any marks. You sucked on her hard nipples hearing a low moan that escaped her parted lips.

"Can I cup your face?" you muttered on her skin.

"Yes," she gasped. You could feel the breathy moans building up and the changes in her demeanour as she started to give into her pleasures. Her green eyes half lidded and how she bit her bottom lip. She was utterly gorgeous and you wanted to help guide her to orgasm no matter what. You cupped her face and worked biting kisses along her jawline and down her throat being sure to bite harder when her moans got louder.

"Fuck, I'm close," Rebecca groaned, her hand working harder between her legs as she rubbed her now throbbing bud.

"Let me help you," you said.

You latched onto her nipple again, biting harder. You were sure you'd leave marks but you didn't care now. You wanted her to finish.

"Oh my god, fuck," Rebecca gasped. Her whole body tensed as the warm feeling shot through her body. You felt her wetness on your skin and you'd be lying if it didn't make you crave your finish more. You held her face and let her slowly come down from her high. She gave you a pleasant smile and you kissed her softly on the lips. You pulled Rebecca into you so your chests were pressed together as she caught her breath. You drew patterns across her soft skin.

"You are so gorgeous Rebecca,"

"So are you," Rebecca smiled. She sat up and ran her hands up your thighs to your hips and your ribs stopping when she reached your neck pulling you into a deep tongue kiss. You moaned into her mouth digging your nails down her back rocking your hips into her body trying to gain any kind of friction.

"Please." you muttered.

"What was that?" Rebecca grinned.

"Please!" you huffed. "Fuck me."

"That's what I thought," Rebecca made her way down your body kissing and biting. You groaned at the contact and tangled your hands in her blonde locks. She parted your legs gripping your inner thighs and grinned at your soaked folds.

"Didn't think seeing me orgasm on you would have this effect."

"Yes, you did. " you breathed.

Rebecca arched her brow and you avoided her gaze. You just needed her to touch you. Her tongue lightly traced across your folds. Your hips bucked into her mouth immediately, you were desperate and she could tell. Her mouth latched onto your swollen clit and you let out a scream of Rebecca's name. Fuck finally she was giving you what you wanted. Two of her fingers slid inside you with ease and you rocked against her rhythm. You could hear how wet you were and Rebecca lapped up every drop of you. You were wound up so tight, it didn't take you long to finish.

"Oh my god, oh my god," you panted as the warm feeling spread through every nerve and your eyes shut tight. Rebecca rode out the wave with you until you were nothing but a sweating panting mess beneath her. She wiped her mouth and you grabbed her hand, sucking her fingers clean. She grinned while you did it and drew patterns across your stomach.

Rebecca pulled you on top of her and you pressed a lazy kiss to her lips. She kissed you harder and you let her explore your mouth. The kissing turned to lazy makeouts, you broke the kiss to snuggle into the nape of her neck. She rested her hands on your hips and drew patterns across your back.

"Holy fuck, you're amazing," you smiled.

"Plenty more where that came from darling," Rebecca grinned stroking your hair.

A/N I had this thought that Rebecca would be such a tease and love it. Of course she’s got her dom boss energy.

#rebecca welton #rebecca welton x reader #ted lasso #rebecca welton fics

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 5 months

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A/N ::: I don't know that I've ever written anything so quickly. I have a cavity from how gosh darn sweet this is.

C/W ::: Aged up Kirishima (20's dating 27 yr old, single mom, plus size reader), FLUFFYYYY, romantic, unprotected P->V (twice), lovey dovey schmuvvy. Sorry not sorry.

WC ::: Under 950

Thinkin' about Kirishima in his early 20's, in college to become a child psychologist. He gets paired up with you, a 27 year old, cute and kinda chubby, single mom of one. You’re going for your PhD in addiction studies. You’re both in the same basic intro to psych, 3 times a week.

You've been working together on the project for a couple of weeks now and the sexual tension between you is so palpable you could strangle someone with the invisible string that spans the distance between your bodies.

You take your daughter to your mom's house and leave her there for the night. Kirishima is supposed to come over tonight, and you’re going to do the finishing touches on editing the paper and putting the report together.

You cook up something that he mentioned in passing that he loved eating and casually set the coffee table. Nothing fancy, a votive candle that smells like vanilla and some thrift store placemats. When it gets closer to the time he’s supposed to be there, you turn on the fireplace channel on YouTube and put on some music that you know he likes. One day, he dropped his earbuds, and you picked it up to see what he was listening to before returning it to him. He thought it was so cute how your face lit up when you recognized the song (The Beach, The Neighbourhood).

He comes over about 5 minutes to 5 with a small bouquet of mixed wildflowers in a pink crystal vase (he thinks - it's really just cheap glass. But you love it because it's just so damn cute how he thinks it's crystal).

Dinner is full of emphatic conversations about your childhoods. About your best friends. Your bad decisions. Your best decisions. How can you not have good conversation with Kirishima around. C'mon.

He helps you clear the table of the few dishes you used. Offering to help you wash and dry them, but you tell him just to sit them in the sink, you'll get to them tomorrow.

You both stand at the front door, averting your gaze from one another because the night is obviously coming to a close. And neither of you know how to say that you aren't ready to do the old 'See you in class Monday'. You both wanted to sit on the couch for hours just learning everything you can about the other. No matter if it took all night or not.

That awkward moment when you both start to say something at the same time happens. Neither of you know what the other said, neither of you are terribly interested in hearing it repeated.

"Well," he rubs his forearm with his gigantic hand, squeezing it a couple of times, like he was trying to ground himself. "I had a lo- hmph!!!"

You pull him down for a kiss because standing there, listening to his sweet, happy voice and watching him move his mouth - you absolutely cannot stand another second of not pressing yours against it.

"M-me too. Thank you for the flowers, Kirishima. They're beau- mmm!!!"

This time, he pulls you into him and kisses you back with such force and passion that you feel your lungs empty and your legs go weak. He lifts you up and carries you over to the couch, gently perching you on his massive lap. He brushes the loose strands of hair from your neck and starts kissing you so deeply and slowly that you're sure you're going to die before the sun comes up.

"Kuh-eer-ee", you force what little oxygen is left in your body out to say those 3 syllables. You settle yourself over him, knees bent, sitting on your legs. You know they’re going to go numb if you keep sitting like this. But it’s just not as important as being in his arms.

Tangling your hands in his hair, you pull it loose from the bun it's in tonight. His hands explore your body, starting at your love handles. He's squeezing and pushing your hips around, caressing your sides and running his nails up and down your back.

The two of you make love on the couch, and then again in the bedroom. You both fall asleep in each other's arms, too exhausted to even move.

In the morning, Kirishima makes breakfast and does ALL of the dishes. He asks you questions about your daughter (what's she like, what's her favorite toy/color/animal/flower/ice cream/band/Disney character/Disney princess/has she been to Disneyland?/favorite kind of pizza/favorite & least favorite vegetable and fruit/does she like to drink water/all the right questions). You both get dressed, and you fix your hair for the day. He tells you to keep his t-shirt because it looks better on you right now than it ever did on him. Eventually, you said goodbye to each other.

He leaves you with a long kiss on the cheek and a promise to meet you at the library - or your place?? - later that afternoon to work on the project (because oops, nothing got done last night. Maybe the library is best?).

You look out the window as he tosses his backpack over his beautiful, hoodie-clad, broad ass shoulder, and blows a kiss to you with one hand and waves with the other. You can't help but smile because you know that stuff like that takes coordination and you've seen him trip around campus a lot.

You're absolutely sure that you're going to fall in love with him, if you haven't already.

Taglist ::: @thenamesmiz @darkstarlight82 @millennialmagicalgirl @arlerts-angel

#kirishima eijiro x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima x you #eijiro x reader #kirishima fluff #eijiro fluff #i'm kicking my damn feet so hard it hurts #why is this so cute #mha kirishima #x plus size reader #x female reader #x reader #bnha kirishima #eijirou kirishima

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formulaforza · 1 year

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miss americana & the heartbreak prince

—02. over the ocean call —word count: 6.1k —warnings: language, sexual innuendos —a/n: don't get used to this update schedule my loves. school starts back up again on monday.

In late October, the sunrise is perfectly timed to be at it’s blandest point during Chris’ morning commute. 7:35am, and the sun painted the sky shades of pink and orange and yellow half an hour ago while Chris was curling her hair. Now, it’s not dark, but it’s definitely not light, either. More of a blue hue covering the entire state, painting the parking lot with the emotions of a sleepy Monday morning. For the first time since she landed back home, Chris is feeling the exhaustion of the weekend.

She piles the bags onto her shoulder–a Jansport backpack and an Earth Day tote she’d been gifted by a student just before summer break last year. In one hand, she’s got a tangle of lanyards, one with her classroom keys and school ID, another with her car and house keys. In the other hand, an oversized travel coffee mug; one that made the morning commute perched between her legs because it’s too big for the cup holders in her car.

She scans her badge at the office door, greets the secretaries while rummaging through her mailbox, ducks her head into the principal’s office with a single warning knock. He’s not in yet. Her keys jangle and the heels of her booties echo the entire length of the quiet hallway to her classroom. She unlatches the door with her elbow, opens it with her hip and flicks on the lights. The room still smells like shaving cream from the spelling activity she’d left for the substitute on Friday.

In the time it takes her to boot up her computer and answer some missed emails from the weekend, she finishes what’s left of her coffee and heads to the teacher’s lounge to brew another cup. On her way back, she swings by the cafeteria.

Forty-percent of the district live below the state poverty line and qualify for free and reduced lunch. The lunch ladies are hard at work getting ready to start serving some hungry kiddos. All of the teachers in the district are allowed to eat breakfast and lunch as provided by the cafeteria, and even though Chris already ate breakfast, she snags a full tray–mini pancakes, syrup, a hashbrown, a clementine, and a carton of strawberry milk–and takes it back to her classroom.

Chris has one student, Quinn, whose family can’t afford reduced lunch prices but also won’t request for Quinn to qualify for the free lunch. She thinks it’s an ego thing, that Quinn’s mom just isn’t able to accept that the family needs help. It’s a single parent household and the mom works two full-time jobs to try and make ends meet. After a newsletter was sent home in need of parent signatures at the beginning of the year and returned with Mama written in sloppy green crayon, Chris learned that Quinn was living a relatively self-sufficient life. As self-sufficient as a five-year-old can be.

Chris sets the styrofoam tray down on the table in the front of the room and starts to get the place ready for students; she starts pulling down chairs, cleaning up the classroom library, updating the calendar on the white board and re-organizing the magnetic daily schedule. Normally she’d have a lot of this done before leaving the day before, but since there was a sub, nothing was done before locking the room up for the weekend.

At eight-twenty, Quinn knocks on the open door and trudges in with a backpack that’s half the size of her. “Hi, Miss Elliott,” she says through a yawn, plopping herself into the chair in front of the breakfast tray and digging in.

“Hi, Quinnie,” Chris smiles from her computer. Quinn relays that she missed Chris very much, a lot while she was gone on Friday and Chris’ smile grows. “I missed you, too. Did Mrs. Bliss do your hair up all nice?” She asks.

Quinn nods around her spork, around a mouthful of mini-pancake. “She did a braid,” she mumbles.

“You love braids!” Chris says, opens the bottom drawer of her desk and starts pulling out hair products. Quinn gives her a thumbs up as a confirmation of the braid love.

She spends the next fifteen minutes brushing through Quinn’s tangled hair. Mondays are always the worst because Quinn has all weekend to get it knotted up. She settles for a ponytail, braids the strands after it’s all smoothed out and puts a pink bow at the base of the pony. After they’re both finished–Chris with the hair and Quinn with the breakfast–the kindergartener heads back to the gymnasium to wait with the rest of her classmates.

She puts some final morning touches on the classroom before she goes to collect the kids and start the day, and like most Monday mornings around Robinson, time seems to move backwards. By the time she drops her kids off for their morning special–music on Mondays–she feels like she’s worked three ten hour days. She keeps busy during the downtime, making copies and grading word searches and putting newsletters into student mailboxes. It’s not until lunch, until her daily phone call with Hannah, that she remembers all about the unanswered text from the unknown number sitting in her phone just begging to be overthought.

“Can I, uh, can I tell you something?” Chris asks Hannah. “You can’t tell Chase.”

“Did you kill somebody?” Hannah laughs, Chris doesn’t. Might as well have, she thinks, because flirting with a racing driver is just as bad, if not worse, when it comes to Chase. He and Bill forbid Chandler and Chris from ever getting with a driver, even just for a night, when Chris was barely old enough to conceptualize what exactly a one-night stand was. She was thirteen, at most, and was still under the impression she was supposed to stay pure until marriage or else she’d go to Hell.

“Can I tell you, or not?”

“You can always tell me, c’mon,” Hannah says, and Chris suddenly feels guilty for suggesting Hannah was anything but trustworthy. They’ve been best friends for decades, a relationship that predates Chase and Hannah, predates Reid, predates puberty and elementary school and potty-training. They’ve always told each other everything, but, in the past couple years–since Chris’ best friend got engaged to her brother–she’s always a little hesitant with the stuff she doesn’t want to get back to Chase.

Outside of the fact that she expects Hannah to put her partner before her best-friend, Chris hates the idea of having to put Hannah between the two of them. She hates it, but she needs to tell someone about the text burning a hole in her phone, and who else is she going to tell? “Okay, so,” Chris smiles, realizes she’s smiling, and forces herself to stop. “There’s a guy.”

Hannah audibly gasps on the other end of the line. “There’s a guy? What’s his Instagram? First and last?”

“Do you want his social security number, too?” Chris laughs. Do they even have social security numbers in France? She clicks the spacebar on her keyboard to wake the monitor, types the question into the search bar. Oh, they do. Now she just feels silly. “We met this weekend.”

“Oh?”

“He’s a driver.”

There’s a long pause. Chris chuckles, because she doesn’t know what else to do. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Hannah clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, exhales heavy through her teeth. “Is he hot?”

Chris nods, and with a smile on her lips again, “Very.”

“Did you hook up with him?”

“Hannah!” Chris whispers through gritted teeth, looks around the room for the sudden presence of prying ears, clicks the volume on her phone down a few notches.

“Chris!”

“No, God. I just need to text him back.”

“You gave him your number?!”

She actually recoils out of surprise with Hannah’s tone. “That’s more absurd than the idea of me hooking up with him?”

“Yes,” Hannah deadpans.

“I don’t like you.”

“Well, little late on that realization, honey.”

“Can you just help me figure out what to say to him?”

“Yeah, but first,” Hannah pauses. Chris can hear the tapping of her freshly done acrylics on the glass phone screen. “I’m looking at a picture of all of them. Which one is he?”

“I’m not telling you that.”

Hannah groans, and Chris can imagine her pout so vividly. “You suck!”

“Okay,” she ignores Hannah’s temper tantrum. If she’s going to ask for help, she’s going to get the help. “So, he texted me and basically just said ‘hey,’ what should I send back?”

“Uh, just say ‘hi’ back?”

Chris pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs, “You literally have negative game.”

“I’m getting married in two months!”

“To my brother.”

“Got me there.”

Chris spends the next fifteen minutes drafting texts with Hannah as her peer-reviewer in the notes app on her phone. She doesn’t like any of them, they all feel forced, feel like they’re too strong or too weak or just all together strange and off-putting. Hannah calls her a chicken and Chris hangs up on her, sends a single kissy-face emoji in a text and calls it a lunch period.

After lunch and after recess, Chris’ class does more English. They practice writing their names and their letters and working on the way they hold their pencils. Chris is a real stickler when it comes to the way children hold their pencils. She took an ergonomics class her junior year of college for extra credit and some of it still sticks with her years later.

After that, it’s group reading and snack time. They read Rainbow Fish on the city-themed rug that came with Chris’ classroom when she started. They spend the rest of their afternoon crafting their own Rainbow Fish out of construction paper, glitter, and glue.

The last task of the day, and arguably the most stressful, is pickup. She drops all of the bus-riders off in the cafeteria, and that’s the easiest part of it all. It’s the back blacktop that’s the horrifying part, the hoard of parents and the four and five year olds anxious to run off to their mommies and daddies without letting Chris know first. Everyday that she survives pickup without any of the kids being abducted is a gold medal day in her book.

She heads to the Pre-K hall after that day’s episode of Survivor to pick up her nephew–Hannah’s son–Reid, and take him back to her classroom. She prints worksheets for tomorrow in the teacher’s lounge and when she comes back, has to re-tidy up the classroom behind Reid’s wake of destruction.

It’s not until she’s in the car, after she’s loaded up her bags and strapped Reid into his carseat, that Chris finally texts Charles back, and it’s about as creative a response as his original message.

She regrets the double text before she even pulls out of the school parking lot, but there’s nothing she can do about it now. It’s been months since she updated her phone, and she’s sure she doesn’t have the ‘undo send’ feature in her outdated software. And even then, she’s heard it notifies the person that a message is unsent, and the only thing worse than regretting a double text is letting the other person know that you regretted it.

It’s a fifteen minute drive back to Chris’ house, Reid in tow. By the time she gets back there’s a new message from Charles.

Okay, okay. The double text didn’t scare him off. He’s deeper than a Georgia frat brother, that’s definitely a check in the win column.

Per usual, it’ll be another hour before Hannah is back from work to pick Reid up, so like always, he and Chris share an after school snack from her fridge. Reid is a talker. He can droll on and on about the most obscure, irrelevant moments of his day like they’re the greatest thing to ever happen to a human being, and can listen to the sound of his own voice until he’s blue in the face. He tells Chris all about his day, about play time with the kid who picks his nose and wipes his boogers on the rug, about David’s bad day from storytime and all about Chase’s race. If there’s one thing the world’s most talkative kid likes to talk about more than anything else, it’s Chase’s racing.

Chris sips lemonade from a purple bendy straw and stares at her phone on the counter, open to the messages app.

“Are you texting to my mom?” Reid asks.

“I have other friends besides your Mom,” Chris quips, slides her plate of animal crackers across the table to him.

“Nuh, uh,” Reid shakes his head, chomps down on an animal cracker with the grace of a clown slipping on a banana peel, crumbs pouring from his mouth onto his shirt, his lap, the wood tabletop. Chris reaches over and swipes them onto the ground.

Chris laughs out loud, steals Reid’s attention away from playing make-believe zookeeper with the cookies in front of him. She wonders how quick he regrets sending it, or if she just has a one track mind.

She giggles a kind of hair-twirling, blush-inducing, feet-kicking giggle that makes Reid sigh loudly. “I’m trying to focus!” He says, glares at her with a hippo in one hand and a gorilla in the other. She snatches the gorilla and eats it in two bites. Reid, dumbfounded, is met with a smile from his aunt who promptly and dramatically licks her fingers.

She wishes she could be having an, of course he remembers moment, but she is genuinely shocked by it, moreso by the fact that she doesn’t even remember telling him about it in the first place. It had to have been during the Hot Lap, surely, sandwiched between her screams at two hundred miles an hour and his giddy giggles with each gear change.

Why would he ever remember that, she wonders. She’s sure that if she told Chase about it, under regular conversation standards on a regular weekend, he’d forget about it before the end of the hour, and he’s her brother. Her own blood. But here’s this guy, in the middle of this insane weekend, remembering a stupid little thing she tells him while he’s trying to focus on driving a car faster than any sane person’s reaction time could ever handle. It’s shocking.

Reid is gone, picked up by Hannah, and dinner is started when she messages him again. Chris is terrible with crushes, really. She’ll tell you it’s one of her worst traits; how easily she falls into a crush, how quickly her adult exterior melts away into nothing but a teenage girl hoping to be asked to the homecoming dance. She’s simple, easy to attain. Call her beautiful or remember something she thinks is important and you’re in her good graces, racking up points in a pro and con chart in her head. Charles has already done both of those things.

Her phone rings three minutes after she sends it. Facetime call: Maybe: Charles. Crap.

She checks herself out in the reflection of the microwave window. She’s still got on her morning makeup, and even it’s last leg is better than nothing. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, also from this morning, and falls messily around her face. She’s changed from work clothes into a pair of leggings and an old purple sorority hoodie, the neckline cut into a v and the ends of the sleeves tattered with tears and grease and loose threads from loving the cotton a little too hard. It’s not ratty… it’s just, comfortable. An acquired taste.

Has her kitchen always been this messy? Did it come like this? Has she ever cleaned it? Why, why, why does she keep a high school picture of her and Hannah on the fridge?

She rolls her sleeves over themselves and tucks as many frizzy hairs behind her ears as she can manage before she sets her phone up on the counter, against the backsplash tile, and answers it.

He’s greeting her with a smile, childlike almost, the way his dimples dig into his cheeks. Stupid. She remembered him as cute and she remembered right. She smiles back because even through a screen, even when you barely know him, it’s a contagious smile complimented with soft, warm eyes that manage to make it look like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Hello, Chris Elliott.”

“Hello, Charles Leclerc.”

“Tell me all about this dinner you’re cooking?”

“If you insist.”

“I insist a million times.”

They talk all evening about dinner and rainbow fish and how Chris is not, under any circumstances, going to be one of his girls. His dimples make her worry that she could be convinced to, though.

“Okay,” Chris says, sets her phone up against the hotel end table and takes a couple steps backwards so her entire figure is in frame. “Good? Bad?” She asks, spins, holds a thumbs up to the camera when she’s finished showing off the outfit. Charles smiles at the sound of her voice pouring from his airpod. “Keep in mind it’s the only thing I brought.”

She’s in a hotel room somewhere in Virginia. He doesn’t know where, exactly. He’s in Mexico, race day, breakfast in his hotel room with Joris and Andrea. The guys are bickering in the bathroom; Joris, attacking Andrea’s red on red ensemble, Andrea, attacking the seven hundred hair products Joris has stacked up on the vanity. They’d already eaten and knocked on Charles’ hotel room door until he woke up forty-five minutes later than he was supposed to.

“You could wear a rubbish bag,” he answers because he’s almost certain she could, but also because he knows it’ll make her blush. He smiles when it does, when she pretends it doesn’t. “I don’t know that you should be asking me for outfit advice, my fans are not fans.”

“I think you dress well,” she hums, and he watches her catch her reflection in the mirror, analyzing the sundress from every angle. He doesn’t need to analyze it, always has been a fan of sundresses, no matter the color, no matter the fit. You can never go wrong with a sundress, he thinks. Never. “Like right now, you look sharp.”

“‘I’m in pajamas,” he says.

“Sharp pajamas.”

He laughs, drops his head and shakes it. “You’re cute.”

“What about the outfit?”

“Cute too,” he says around a spoonful of food. “What’s under it?” He quips, bites the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t burst into laughter at her strawberry tinted cheeks. It’s exactly the reaction he’d been looking for, the one he’d found too much amusement in over the last few days. She blushes easier than anyone he’s ever met, and it’s more than just bright cheeks–it’s in her smile, pursed and big and adorable. It’s in her eyes, wide and unable to keep any semblance of direct contact with him. It’s a direct contrast to her normal state of being, to her normal attentive listening. She blushes too easily and he has too much fun making her.

It’s her words that always seem to take him by surprise, when she moves close to her camera again and almost whispers, “You wanna see?”

He coughs, clears his throat and looks around the room to make sure neither of the guys have appeared over his shoulder. “Very much, I would like seeing.”

She laughs. “You wish.”

“You’re a tease.”

She shrugs, reaches over her phone and out of frame. She grabs her purse and when she does, the phone falls face down onto the wood. “Sorry,” she squeaks, picks it back up. “Good luck today, yeah?” She tells him, a confident smile on her face. He nods, mouth full, and holds up a thumbs-up, waves at her quick goodbye.

It’s not even a couple minutes before his phone is buzzing against the plastic tabletop. A picture, from her, by her, of her. Her, and white lingerie and a little bit of imagination that has him doing all the blushing.

Fucking sundresses, man.

She sends him a picture of the whiteboard in her classroom, decorated for the Halloween party that day with fake spiderwebs and ghost stickers and pumpkins and all things Halloween that don’t scare a five year old to death. She also sends him a picture of two store bought sugar cookies with orange frosting, purple and black star sprinkles on top.

It doesn’t take long for the time difference to bite them in the ass, for the optimal time for communication to be hindered by sleep and work and meetings and more sleep. An hour too early for him, a few hours too late for her, not that she’d admit it, miss I would be awake and grading these papers whether or not I was talking with you.

That’s what she’s doing, sitting on her living room floor and grading papers on her coffee table. He’s making breakfast, but really he’s watching her grade papers and talking to her whenever she remembers that they’re having a conversation.

It’s cute, he thinks. Extremely so, the way she struggles to multitask. The way her voice will trail out into silence in the middle of a sentence because she’s trying to decipher a kindergartener’s little chicken scratch handwriting. It’s cute, the way she carefully flips through her book of stickers to find the perfect one for each and every paper, the way she carefully puts them on and makes sure they’re pressed down firmly so they don’t fall off somewhere between her coffee table and their desk. It’s cute, the purple pen with the sparkly gel gripper.

“I want to see you,” he blurts out in the middle of it all and it takes her a minute to process it. He watches the gears turn, watches her practically jump out of her skin at the sound of his voice like she really forgot he was there for a moment.

“You’re looking at me.”

“In person,” he laughs. “I want to see you in person.”

“I’m going to Arizona this weekend,” she says, and he can’t even believe she’s entertaining the idea. He was sure, actually, that he’d be getting another one of her I’m not going to hook up with you, Charles, lectures. It would be the second or third of the week, and no matter how many times he’s told her do you think I’d be up this early for a hookup, she remains unconvinced of his motives.

“I know.” She’s going with her brother. It’s the finals, or the playoffs, or something like that. He’s listening, trying to remember, he really is. None of it makes any sense, though. Formula One is so much easier to wrap your head around. “What about next weekend? You could come to Brazil.”

“No,” she yawns. It’s gotta be at least one-thirty there, she should be asleep. He shouldn’t be keeping her up. “I’m too busy with work that week. How about the one after?”

“Abu Dhabi.” He says it like a statement, not a question. Like, if we're going to wait that long, might as well wait until I’m home.

“I could come,” she says, and it surprises him because nobody wants to come to Abu Dhabi. He doesn’t even particularly want to go to Abu Dhabi. It’s felt a lot this season like it just never stops. Like, no matter what he does, he and the car and the team can’t get in sync. He’s ready to reset for next year, really, to challenge Max instead of shaking Checo off his ankles for a few more weeks.

“You want to come?”

She looks up from the papers at him, confused, clicking the back of her pen against the pages. “Do you want me to come?”

“Do you know how long that plane is?” He asks. “My family will be there,” he adds, and now you’d never guess he’s the one who wanted her to come in the first place. He doesn’t tell her all these things because he doesn’t want her there, he does. He just also wants to make sure she knows what she’s getting herself into, the lion’s den she’s climbing into, the shallow end of the pool and the nose-dive she’s taking.

It’s crazy enough to meet up somewhere neither of them live. It’s a whole other monster to do it at a race, where his family is also present.

“Do you,” she pauses, pointing the pen at the screen, “want me,” and then at herself. “To come?”

He shrugs. “I would not have said I want to see you if I didn’t want you to come.”

Even though he didn’t want to keep her up all night, he kept her up all night with planning. And, despite the incessant need to make it clear she isn’t a hookup, Chris also refuses to come under the guise of any sort of label. He’s not mad about that, flying her in under the implication to anyone that she’s his girlfriend… especially when she’s not? It’s a recipe for disaster, for drama and death threats and cross paddock glares for just existing. It’s something he wants to avoid for himself, but more importantly, something he wants to avoid for Chris, who didn’t sign up for any of this, who doesn’t reap any of the benefits of his life. She’s too good for the drama, he thinks.

Somehow, the conversation about the rooming situation requires more dancing than the refusal to put a label of any sorts on their… acquaintanceship. Where does she stay? With him, he wants to stay–stay with me, please stay with me. Does he see if someone can pull a few strings and get her a room in the same hotel, or would it be better for her to stay somewhere else? Better for who, he doesn’t know. He wants her with him, wants to pretend he doesn’t know half the drivers and half the teams stay at the same hotel, that people are always waiting in the lobby and outside waiting for pictures and signatures with their favorite zoo animals.

He scratches the back of his neck, “You could stay with me, if you want to.”

“Yeah,” Chris nods. “If you want me to.”

“If you want to.” They both chuckle, horribly nervous and awkward because they’re so terrified of making a wrong move, of coming on too strong or too careless.

“It’s your job,” she says, still fidgeting with her pen. Actually, now it’s just the glitter gel gripper that she's messing with. “Your life. I’m the intrusion–”

“You’re not an intrusion,” he interrupts, because she isn’t and he needs her to know he doesn’t think she is.

She smiles, looks up from the pencil grip in her hand to smile at him. “Okay, I’m the… guest. Tell me what you want me to do.”

He wishes he could reach into the phone and grab her hand and still it from bouncing the gel grip against the coffee table. Softly, he replies, “I want you to stay with me.”

She nods, and equally as soft, biting down on a smiley bottom lip, “Then I’ll stay with you.”

She mentions to him in passing that she’s on Thanksgiving break for the week that follows, letting it hang in the air with silent implication. He knows her game, completely aware that she wants him to make the next move–invite me to stay, I'm not going to say no, she’s telling him. I’m not going to say no, you just have to ask.

And so he does ask. Something about it’s only fair that you see my home country after I’ve seen yours. Really, he couldn’t care less about being in Monaco. He just wants to see her. Her and the purple pen and sticker book and nose crinkle when he tells a bad joke and the tug of the corners of her lips when she tries not to blush. He wants to see it all in front of him, right there where he can reach out and touch it.

He wants to take her on a date. He wants to take her on more than one date. Cook her dinner and show her around and memorize her presence when she’s not with her dad, when she isn’t screaming in a speeding car, when she’s not on the other side of the globe.

“Well,” he hums. “Now I’m excited.”

“You should be,” she says, smiling at a stack of spelling tests as she tucks them away into a folder. “I’m great fun.” He pauses, watches her with a small smile. She yawns again, stretches her arms above her head with a quiet groan. She’s up entirely too late. He’s kept her up entirely too late. I bet, he thinks. “What?” Chris laughs.

“You’re adorable when you are sleepy.”

She plays the voice memo and listens to his voice echo off the wall. He’s laughing, and she wonders what it would be like to be the wall his voice bounces from. You look like a commercial puppy, he says, it’s adorable.

“You’re so annoying,” she says into the phone microphone, “How’s the weekend going?” When she listens to it back after sending, you can still hear the congested sniffle in her voice even though she’s regained her composure.

Screwed by the weather, he responds. Sprint Race is soon.

“Good Luck!”

Enjoy your movie day.

—

He calls on Sunday night, late and unplanned. She’s already in bed, reading her book to wind-down before turning in for the night. His name on her screen makes her smile, even if she doesn't know the reason for the call. They’d been careful, when it came to calls, tried to make sure they planned them out so they didn’t spend all day, every day talking to each other.

“Hi,” she greets, hesitant. “Everything okay?”

“Uh,” he chuckles, but it’s tired. Tired and upset and far away from the phone. He doesn’t really answer, he just sighs.

She slides her bookmark between the pages and sets the book on her nightstand. “What’s wrong?” She asks, adjusts in bed so she’s sitting up straighter and pulls her legs close, crosses them under the sheets and puts him on speaker phone.

“I wish I was home,” he finally tells her. “Race today fucking… it’s like this, I don’t know.”

She didn’t watch the race. He knew she wasn’t watching it, that she was practically hibernating this weekend after a crazy week at work with what seemed like a never ending series of state testing. She didn’t watch the race, but now she’s really, really wishing she had. “You don’t have to show face with me,” she tells him. “Tell me what you want to say.”

“My fucking boss isn’t even here,” he starts, and he doesn’t stop. He’s got a lot to say. A lot to say about strategy and the championship and the car and himself and the season. It’s more than this race, it’s a lot of races, a lot of meetings, a lot of things she doesn’t really understand.

Chris just listens, because it’s about the only thing she can do. She can’t give him answers or solutions or advice, and even if she could, it doesn’t sound like he’s looking for any of those things.

She gets out of bed because she’s terrified that she’s going to fall asleep on him. She takes her water bottle and a blanket to her screened in porch, sits on the patio furniture and sips water and listens to the hum of the bugs and the sound of his voice on another continent.

She calls him in the back of her Uber, on her way to Atlanta to catch her flight. She’d debated with herself about telling someone she was going, just out of pure convenience, saving the hour drive to the airport by just… flying there. That would require telling one of the two people in her life that know how to fly a plane–Chase and Bill–that she was going to Abu Dhabi and Monaco to see a racing driver. That would not go over well, even a little bit. So, she doesn’t tell anyone where she’s going and Hannah is the only person who knows that she’s going anywhere at all. Chris is sure her best friend could guess where she’s going, but she can’t prove anything, not when Chris has turned off her location sharing and refuses to confirm or deny what flight she’s on.

“Are you gonna be weird when you see me?” She asks him, because this whole thing is so incredibly weird. It’s not normal, flying for seventeen hours across the world to hang out with a guy you haven’t even gone on a date with yet, a guy you haven’t spent more than a few minutes with. It feels almost illegal, letting a guy pay over a thousand dollars–he refused to tell her how much her ticket was, but she possesses the ability to use google flights–to come hang out with him. She’s not a sugar baby, right? Right? No, she isn’t a sugar baby.

“Yeah,” Charles says through a yawn. He’s already in Abu Dhabi and it’s the middle of the night there, half past midnight, at least. He should be sleeping. “So weird.”

“You should go to sleep.”

He smiles. “Sleep is for the weak.”

Chris rolls her eyes with extra gravitas. She knows he sees it because he laughs. “Good night, Charles. I’ll see you in…” she checks her watch, “nineteen hours.”

“I can’t wait to be sooo weird when I see you.”

“I’m going to watch Cars 2 on the plane. As preparation.”

—

She does watch Cars 2 on the plane. She watches Cars 2 and eats a shitty chicken Caesar salad as dinner with a ginger ale, because ginger ale is only good when you’re on a plane or have a stomach ache. After the stale meal in the stale air, she takes two melatonin gummies, shuffles her favorite playlist, and sleeps.

She wakes up an hour before they land in Paris, where she has a short layover. It takes the majority of said short layover to figure out where the heck she’s supposed to go. Once she’s figured it out, she spends the rest of the layover walking around the gate area, already exhausted with the idea of sitting still. She eats a chocolate croissant and has a coffee and listens to the people around her speak different languages with fluent ease.

The flight to Abu Dhabi is shorter, but she’s awake for all seven hours of it, so it feels a million times longer than the first one. Also, somewhere between the first and last sip of what might be the best coffee she’s ever drank, nervous little butterflies have begun wreaking havoc in her insides. She’s giddy, the kind of giddy that should be reserved for little kids. Giddy and fighting a stupid little crush with the most insane stakes.

It’s six o’clock local time on Friday evening when she lands in Abu Dhabi.

#ma&thbp #boo!#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc x reader #f1 blurb #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 #cl16 #from the queue

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whatstruthgottodowithit · 7 months

Text

It Hurts Me

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Actor RPF,

Pairing: Jerry Schilling x Reader, Elvis Presley x Reader

Characters: Jerry Schilling, Reader, You, Elvis Presley, Joe Esposito

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 7849

Summary: It hurts me to see him treat you, the way that he does.

Tags/Warnings: Cheating, Established Relationship, Reader Has A Name, Second Person POV, Marriage, Implied Cheating, Kissing, Sex, Hurt, Angst, Song Fic, Betrayal, Guilt,

Notes: I just have this thing for Jerry Schilling k?

ELVIS MASTERLIST // SONG LINK // HALLOWEEN CHALLENGE

Thunk.

As the refrigerator door swung shut Jerry sighed, already missing the cool breeze it had been circulating around his lower half as he’d held it open. He’d forgotten how hot it could get out here, the heat of the desert not staved off by the cooling ocean breeze like it was Los Angeles and given that he’d been based there for the past few months he’d gotten used to the climate. In fact, he’d gotten used to everything in L.A. He liked working through the week and having the weekends to himself. He liked going on a morning run or hanging out at the beach. He liked the normalcy of it all. It wasn’t that Palm Springs didn’t have its perks of course, actually, having missed this run in Vegas had made him feel a tad left out, it was just that he’d gotten used to the little life he had going.

Still, when Elvis had called him yesterday evening and asked him to meet him and the guys in Palm Springs for a last hoorah after finishing another successful residency he couldn't refuse and had even begged his boss to let him leave early and come in late on Monday morning which fortunately he’d agreed to. Which is how he’d ended up standing in the kitchen of Elvis’ Palm Springs home trying to will the sweat that had gathered around his neck away with the touch of an ice-cold can of beer. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a drink now considering most of the guys would probably have started to ease into the weekend the minute they climbed on the plane but still it felt awkward to start the party by himself. Coming from LA instead of Vegas had meant that he had been the first one to arrive so he was happy to hear the sounds of someone coming through from the garage even if it didn’t sound rowdy enough to be his friends.

He wondered who it could be, waiting for the culprit to work their way through the house towards the kitchen, and he was surprised when you rounded the door looking surprised to find him standing there, beer in hand.

‘Oh hey,’ you said scanning around to see that he was in fact on his own.

‘Hey,’ he replied.

‘Is it just you?’ you asked coming forward into the room.

‘Yeah, drove up this afternoon,’ Jerry said taking a sip.

‘Oh, yeah of course,’ you mumbled suddenly remembering he wasn’t part of the touring group anymore. You didn’t know how you’d forgotten though; Elvis had reminded you enough times, constantly explaining how he was happy for his friend but still felt a tad abandoned he had chosen to go down his own path. As Jerry explained they’d be arriving any time, moving to get you a drink from the fridge without asking, you watched him. His hair was a shade or two lighter, sun-washed, and his skin had a healthy glow to it – the kind that came when you weren’t locked away in a studio, hotel or movie set. He looked good.

‘So, I didn’t know you were comin’,’ he said as he handed you a soda which you took with a thankful smile.

‘Well it was a last-minute thing,’ you shrugged, knowing that this would appease him. Everything your husband did seemed to be last minute so it wouldn’t surprise him if Elvis had called you up and asked you to hop on a plane ASAP. Yet that wasn’t what had happened. With his shows ending in Vegas, you’d anticipated a call anytime but the one that had come hadn’t been one to invite you to join him. It had been one that told you your reunion would only occur next week despite already having spent eight weeks apart. It had crushed you and so you had arranged a flight to Palm Springs knowing that’s where he would be headed.

‘Well the more the merrier,’ Jerry smiled though it disappeared as he heard his name called somewhere in the house.

‘Jer ya here?!’ you heard Elvis’ dulcet tones yell out coming ever closer as he headed towards Jerry’s response.

‘In here,’ Jerry replied in something just lower than a shout.

‘Thought I saw your car in the driveway,’ Elvis said as he appeared in the doorway though his face fell as he noticed you standing there, ‘Cassie?’

‘Hey,’ you said putting your soda down and moving over to him quickly, hoping that if you threw yourself into his arms it would override his senses long enough he wouldn’t get mad at you for disobeying him.

‘Hey,’ he mumbled as your lips met his, your arms wrapping around his neck as he held you to him on muscle memory alone. Though as he pulled back he still looked confused muttering, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I came to see you,’ you said cheerily hoping he’d join your spirits.

‘I thought we were seeing each other Monday?’ he said. It was posed like a question but the tone that laced it was one of accusation.

‘I know but I was flying this way anyway and you were done in Vegas,’ you said airily, running your fingers along his sideburns and down his cheek. You knew you were playing a dangerous game, that going against what he said often didn’t end up going the way you wanted it, but you remained hopeful your campaign would soften him so you added, ‘It's been eight weeks…don’t you want to see me?’

‘Of course I do,’ Elvis replied tightly as his eyes flicked towards where Jerry was standing. Jerry dropped his gaze, suddenly interested in his beer can more than what was going on in front of him, ‘it’s just I planned for us to see each other on Monday. I promised the guys a weekend…y’know just guys.’

‘Oh,’ you said quietly. You had hoped that showing up here would’ve meant he’d be forced to keep you around but your plan had backfired and now he was going to rake you over the hot coals in front of his friend making you feel like the fool you were.

‘It’s just that they’ve worked hard ya know? They deserve to let some steam off before we go back to normal,’ Elvis said his thumb rubbing reassuring circles against your back though they did nothing to comfort you and nothing to make you sound any less pathetic as you mumbled, ‘I wouldn’t be in the way.’

‘And what about the other wives? They’ve all been apart too,’ Elvis reasoned moving to brush your hair from your face, an act that would force you to look him in the eye, any resolve or defiance crumbling as he gave you his most crafted sympathetic look. One that meant you were still in the shit but you weren’t going to feel as though it was his fault.

‘Right,’ you agreed cursing yourself for how easily it worked. After all, he had been straight with you and you’d chosen to run the risk of coming anyway.

‘If it was up to me I’d have you stay,’ he said pressing a kiss to your forehead.

‘No I get it,’ you said, ‘it’s fine.’

‘When I get back home on Monday we can do whatever you want okay? Just me and you how’s that sound?’ he asked watching you expectantly as you nodded. Once he could see he was off the hook he leant down, capturing your lips once again as he held your face with each of his large hands but when you pulled back you could feel tears stinging in your eyes so you pulled away from him, mumbling something about needing to freshen up to which he agreed, telling you he’d ask Joe to get some flights sorted as soon as possible.

You didn’t say anything and instead fled to the safety of the house and he watched you go making sure you were well out of the way before he sighed and rested back against the counter. Jerry remained silent, knowing that it was better to wait for him to give the temperature of the room before he dove in.

‘What the hell was she thinkin’,’ Elvis sighed.

‘What?’ Jerry said.

‘Comin’ here,’ Elvis said as if it was self-explanatory.

‘Guess she missed you,’ Jerry mused.

‘Oh don’t you start,’ Elvis said rolling his eyes. Jerry knew it was probably foolish to bait him like this, but he had been watching how your face fell the moment he had let you down even if he had done it gently. And he didn’t know if it was the fact he’d been out of the group for a while, looking at their antics from the outside in, but it didn’t seem fair. After all, he knew what it was like to miss Elvis, even as just a friend, he didn’t blame you for not wanting to be left out.

‘I’m just sayin’ it could be worse,’ Jerry shrugged, ‘she could’ve forgotten who you were.’

‘Like you you mean?’ Elvis said. It was an unnecessary barb and it didn’t serve any other purpose than making Jerry’s jaw tighten.

‘I’m here aren’t I?’ Jerry challenged.

‘Yeah, and you ain’t been out to Vegas once the whole time we’ve been there. What could your boss not spare ya? You CEO now or sumthin’?’ Elvis joked though it teetered on the edge of venomous.

‘Can’t be takin’ liberties,’ Jerry joked though it was terser than intended. He knew Elvis hadn’t taken his news about his new job well but he had been understanding enough.

‘Straight and narrow huh?’ Elvis said raising his eyebrow. Jerry was going to respond, make some quip about how anything would be straighter than working for Elvis but it was caught short as Joe appeared, no doubt wondering where Elvis had got to.

‘Ah just the man,’ Elvis said straightening up, ‘I need a favour.’

‘Sure thing,’ Joe agreed.

‘I need you to book a flight to LA for me,’ he said.

‘How come?’ Joe asked just as you reappeared in the doorway. He looked at you and then Elvis, putting everything together himself without help, ‘Uh sure two minutes.’

‘You okay?’ Elvis asked grabbing your hand and pulling you into him stopping you from lingering. It seemed that his reluctance had melted away though you wondered if that was because he was sure he wouldn’t have to deal with you for long.

‘Fine,’ you lied.

‘Joe’s just checkin’ on flights for ya,’ Elvis said pressing a kiss into your temple earning a weak smile from you in return. Jerry watched on, saying nothing, though he could see the hurt lingering behind your eyes. He was only torn away from looking at you when Joe reappeared and said, ‘uh slight problem.’

‘What is it?’ Elvis said straightening up.

‘No flights to LA. They’re all booked up,’ Joe said glancing irately at you as if it was your fault he had to be the bearer of bad news.

‘None?’ Elvis asked.

‘Might be a cancellation but it’ll mean hanging around just in case,’ Joe said.

‘Shit,’ Elvis grumbled, ‘what are we gonna do?’

He seemed to be thinking and you watched feeling your stomach churn. There was a simple solution, you stay here with him like any normal couple would do after eight weeks apart, but no he was racking his brains trying to think of how to get rid of you. It made sorrow wash through you.

‘I’ll take her,’ Jerry said making all eyes snap towards him and that sadness inside you turn to nerves.

‘What?’ Elvis asked and for a moment Jerry wondered why he’d said it at all. Maybe it was the irritation of Elvis treating anyone who disobeyed him as a second-class citizen. Maybe it was just because you looked broken – holding it together whilst he was present.

‘I’ll take her,’ he reiterated before he added with a shrug, ‘who knows how long it’ll be before she gets a flight.’

‘It’s alright,’ you mumbled, ‘I can wait at the airport.’

‘Yeah I’m sure there’ll be a cancellation at some point,’ Joe reasoned.

‘It’s fine,’ Jerry said placing his can down on the counter.

‘It’s like a four-hour round trip,’ Elvis said. You were watching him closely, watching as his eyes narrowed at his friend’s generosity. You didn’t know why. After all if he wanted you gone you didn’t see why he wouldn’t be jumping at the idea of getting rid of you sooner rather than later.

‘I don’t mind besides once I’m on a decent stretch of highway I’ll make the time up I bet,’ Jerry replied. At that Elvis relaxed and you realised his reluctance wasn’t about you at all. It was that Jerry was once again willing to miss out on the action. To put him second.

That made your stomach churn once more. After that you barely registered what was happening. There was a brief interlude of Elvis giving his thanks to his friend and then promises that were meant to reassure you though they didn’t. Nothing did. Not the way he kissed you goodbye. Not the squeeze he gave your hand as he helped you into Jerry’s car. Not the way he stopped to wave you goodbye before he headed back into the house.

Nothing quelled that feeling of foolishness inside you. You were a fool. A fool to let him do as he pleased. A fool to forgive and forget every time that it happened. A fool to cling to the idea that maybe, just maybe, he’d put you first.

‘You can let it out if you want,’ Jerry said eventually snapping you from your thoughts though when you looked up you were now on a sparse span of desert signalling you had been driving for longer than you had anticipated. You looked towards him and found him watching you expectantly, barely having to glance at the road given it was straight and empty as far as the eye could see.

‘What?’ you asked irritably.

‘Call him out,’ he said as if it were obvious, ‘it’s alright. I understand.’

‘Why would I do that?’ you snapped which made him look back to the road, evidently not prepared for your abrasiveness. If anything you didn’t understand it yourself. Elvis had hurt you and it would make sense for you to call him for it. In fact, out of all the boys Jerry was probably one of the ones to do it in front of as he was not liable to go running straight to him.

‘Well, aren’t you pissed? I mean you’ve come all this way and he’s kicked you to the curb-'

‘He has not kicked me to the curb,’ you said angrily making him shrink back in his seat though he did glance at you before looking back at the stretch of concrete in front of him.

‘Okay,’ he mumbled, ‘sorry.’

‘Why have you got something to say?’ you asked as your irritation bubbled.

‘No,’ Jerry said. He knew he should’ve kept well alone. He’d had dipped his toe in the water hoping to find something amiable to swim in, somewhere he could air his own frustrations about his friend with someone feeling just as annoyed, but he had found it to be bitterly cold and yet he couldn’t stop himself from saying, ‘it’s just…even for his track record this is pretty shitty.’

‘His track record?’ you asked unable to fathom why you were acting as though your husband's indiscretions were coming as a shock to you.

‘Oh come on Cassie are you gonna pretend you think all his behaviour is spectacular?’ he said feeling his own frustration mounting as you scowled at him.

‘I never said that,’ you muttered looking out of the window.

‘I’m just sayin' me and the guys-' he started but that was enough to snap your head back towards him as you replied, ‘Oh so you all talk about me is that it?’

‘No, of course not,’ he sighed.

‘So come on what do you say?’ you said ignoring his protests.

‘It’s not like that,’ he said glancing at you before he continued, ‘all I’m saying is there are some times when I don’t understand why you put up with it.’

‘So I’m an idiot?’ you said. You knew were being unreasonable now but your irritation had bubbled over and instead of spilling out on yourself or Elvis, whom you were truly mad at, it released onto the only person nearby.

‘No I didn’t mean it like that,’ Jerry said but you weren’t in the mood to listen.

‘Well, you shouldn’t mean anything because my relationship is of no concern to anyone but me and Elvis got it? What we do is up to us no one else okay?’ you said huffily, folding your arms across your chest as you looked away from him.

‘Fine, okay, sorry,’ he mumbled.

‘Yeah well just leave me alone,’ you snapped.

And with that the pair of you fell silent. You didn’t look at him, your eyes fixed on the towns and stretches of desert that passed outside your window though you could feel him glancing at you every so often. Eventually the silence must’ve become too much for him as you heard him fiddle with the radio, letting a country station play through the airwaves, doing nothing to cut the tension. You didn’t know why you had snapped at him. If anything he was your opportunity to speak about your hurt without being judged. And he had a point. Though you loved your husband you couldn’t deny the way he treated you didn’t always feel right. Of course when you were together it was wonderful but those days were becoming further apart – distance being put between the pair of you though never by your choice.

Whether it was a comfort to know that others had noticed it too you weren’t too sure. Not that it mattered. No one would ever question his motives and if it came down to it you doubted anyone would side in your corner if you challenged him. But then again how could you expect them to? You couldn’t even do it yourself. You loved him too much.

You hoped beyond hope that at every turn he’d make the right choice and when he didn’t you let him, convincing yourself it didn’t matter, it was justified. That’s why what Jerry had said had hurt so much. Not because you were mad at him but because he reminded you of just how pitiful you were.

At that you calmed, glancing over to him for the first time in an age. He was looking straight out at the road, his fingers tapping along to the music though they faltered in rhythm as he looked your way and found you watching him. You smiled at him apologetically and he returned it before looking back to the road in front of him. Neither of you spoke but there the air was thinner as you drove on towards home.

✵✵✵

‘We’re here,’ Jerry said stirring you from the slumber you had fallen into as you passed through Pomona. It hadn't been a ridiculously long drive but given the flight, the fight and the disappointment you had packed into your day it wasn’t a surprise you had felt fatigued.

‘Thanks,’ you said as you sat up, noticing you were now in the driveway of your Beverley Hills home.

‘Isn’t anyone here?’ Jerry asked looking at the house in front of him only to find there were no lights on and given that it was dark now it resembled more of a silhouette against the lights of the valley.

‘I told them not to bother coming till Monday,’ you said sheepishly. It was your own fault for assuming all would go well and it should’ve been you who was embarrassed yet it didn’t stop Jerry from flushing and saying, ‘Right, yeah.’

He paused for a moment as did you, both of you wondering whether or not to address the elephant in the room or to let it go, bury it under the rug like most disagreements in your life. But as he looked at you barely lit from the far away street lamps he couldn’t help but want to apologise. Even if it wasn’t just him you deserved an apology from.

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten involved it’s nothing to do with me or anyone else,’ he said.

‘No it’s not,’ you agreed though you couldn’t blame them for it. If anything you were curious about it and though you knew it whatever answer he gave you would probably sting you asked him anyway, ‘Does everyone really talk about it?’

‘Nah it’s not like that,’ he said feeling guilty at the way your cheeks pinked up at the thought.

‘What is it like then?’ you asked. Jerry paused. He looked apprehensive, like a politician who had just been handed a career-ending question and was deciding the best way to phrase their response. It made you brace yourself.

‘Well I mean most of them don’t see an issue with it…I mean they’re doin’ similar things…,’ he said, making your chest tighten at the idea of what the boys could be up to, though you suspected you already knew. He registered your silence but he felt the need to continue anyway. He felt as though you needed at least one person to be honest with you tonight, ’but I guess it just hurts me to see you upset and cryin’ over him when he’s sittin' pretty in Palm Springs.’

Once he was no longer speaking silence descended on the two of you, thoughts swirling around your brain that you couldn’t put into order quickly enough to form a response. He hung on, fiddling with a small gash in the leather of the steering wheel as you watched him before you uttered a small, ‘wow.’

‘What?’ he asked. Of all the responses he had been expecting reverent awe wasn’t one of them. In fact, he was half expecting you to tear him a new one, even though you’d asked, and for you to storm off into the house leaving him to curse his honesty on the long drive back to the party.

‘I guess…I guess I’ve never heard anyone call him out like that before,’ you admitted truthfully. It wasn’t that Elvis couldn’t take criticism, it was just that it was never certain of how it was going to land and so over time people had stopped, preferring to take the easy way out. You supposed that was you too in some ways.

‘Yeah well I know what’s right and well, it ain’t right,’ Jerry said, shifting in his seat as if he had overstepped but he was an honest man and he wasn’t going to take something he meant back just because it was uncomfortable.

‘Well thanks for caring,’ you said with a gloomy smile.

‘Yeah, well,’ he said noncommittally.

It was odd to watch him and as you mulled over his words you felt yourself feeling odder still. He had been criticising Elvis but the more you thought about it the more it felt as well, more than that. As if it wasn’t Elvis he was bothered about, it was you. And with those thoughts swirling around your brain you found the words tripping off your tongue without you telling them to.

‘What did you mean,’ you said, his brows knitting together as you spoke, ‘when you said it hurts you.’

‘What?’ Jerry replied quietly, a barely visible tinge of pink christening his tanned face.

‘You said it hurts you…to see me upset,’ you said shifting in your seat so that you were watching him closely for any flicker of emotion that might tell you what he was thinking.

‘Did I?’ he said airily moving back from you, his fingers returning their assault on the leather of the steering wheel, picking at it nervously.

‘Yeah,’ you said firmly. It had been just a nonsensical thing, an innocent question asked, floated in the air expecting a simple answer in return but the way he was acting now made it come alive. It made that silly notion turn into all you could think of. Yet he wasn’t responding. He’d breathed life into your notions and then refused to engage with them, forcing you to put your hand on his, stopping him from fiddling with something unimportant and look towards you, despair in his eyes.

‘Cassie,’ he grumbled.

‘What?’ you asked unable to let it go, ‘I mean why do you care?’

‘We’re friends?’ he asked finally looking at you as you searched his face, unable to believe that was the reason.

‘So?’ you replied.

‘So what?’ he asked. He was getting nervous now, wondering why he’d even bothered to open his mouth. And if he was being honest he didn’t know why it hurt him. Why seeing you pretending to be okay, to put on a good show, made his heart ache. It always had but he’d pushed it aside, pretended because it wasn’t his place to get involved, but now he didn’t know how he could do that. Not when you were watching him, baiting him into saying something he might regret.

‘Does it hurt with the others?’ you asked.

‘What?’ he asked confused.

‘Joanie, Pat,’ you said, uttering your friend's names as if that would get him to be truthful. As if bringing them into the mix would get him to admit whatever he was holding back.

‘Just leave it okay?’ he sighed.

‘Do they hurt?’ you asked again though this time he pulled back moving to open his car door but you rushed forward, practically clambering over him so you could yank it shut again. Your ideas weren’t just waves idling lapping along the shore now. They were tsunamis, great floods that consumed every thought inside your brain, trying to cling to anything that might make you feel as though everything was still the same. Though from the look on his face when he pulled back you doubted it would be.

‘Cassie,’ he said practically begging for you to stop but you didn’t. You couldn’t.

‘Do they hurt?’ you asked again in a whisper. He closed his eyes, thinking for a moment before he said just as quietly, ‘No.’

‘So why me?’ you asked.

As his eyes met yours you could see it. Everything clicking into place. He cared about you, more than either of you had seemed to realise. In fact at that moment, as you thought about your husband enjoying himself without you as he had been for the last eight weeks, you thought about how he might be the only one that did. And before you could stop yourself, before you could tell your body not to you found yourself moving forward, your lips meeting his in a passionate kiss. He didn’t respond at first, his body took by surprise but then you found his lips moving against yours as his hand moved to your face, caressing the soft skin there. After a moment he came to his senses, pulling back and leaving you breathless.

You watched him, the pair of you just as confused and stunned as one another, but then you found yourself moving back in. You didn’t want to think of anything else. You didn’t want to think about Elvis, about the hurt and anguish he put you through, how he was probably miles away doing the same thing. You wanted to feel loved, cared about, the way Jerry had spoken of you. You wanted him to show it, to have someone happy to see you for once.

As you kissed you found your hands moving to the buttons on his shirt, working quickly as your mouth followed down the path of flesh they were leaving in their wake. Jerry groaned as your mouth suckled on a spot near the base of his neck, your hand ghosting down his front and making his dick twitch in response. Yet as you giggled, that obscenely cute giggle, the one he’d heard countless times before whenever Elvis had said something to make you laugh he was pulled from the moment.

‘We can’t,’ he mumbled as he tried to keep himself level-headed, ‘we shouldn’t. He’s my best friend, oh fuck.’

Though you could hear his mumblings, his pleas for you to feel as guilty as he was, but you couldn’t force yourself to. You needed this, him, in order to convince yourself you were cared about. That someone loved you, if only for a night. And it was more than that. You needed him to prove you weren’t pathetic. That you weren’t the fool everyone thought you were.

‘We shouldn’t,’ he said, ‘I mean we can’t right?’

‘Jer,’ you said finally pulling back to look at him, his blue eyes large and frantic as he looked down on you. It was ironic that you were desperate not to feel pathetic given that you couldn’t make your voice sound like anything but a plea, ‘Please?’

✵✵✵

You wondered how you’d got here. How your day had gone from hopping on a plane to surprise your husband had somehow ended up with you lying here, nestled in his best friend’s arms, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat under your ear as he slept. How had it happened? How had your life become so bent of shape that you felt driven into another man's arms? You also wondered how it didn’t feel entirely horrible. How you didn’t want to peel yourself away, scrub the night from your skin and beg Jerry to pretend it never happened. And as he stirred, noting you in his arms with a sleepy grin he found he didn’t want to do that either.

You lay there, watching as he pushed sleep from his eyes before his gaze fell on you, the worry of last night not present as he mumbled, ‘Morning.’

‘Morning,’ you said, unable to hate how relaxed your voice was.

‘You been up a while?’ he yawned.

‘Not too long,’ you said, allowing your fingers to dance lazily along his chest before he moved his hand to yours. Before you could say anything further though the pair of you were startled as the beside phone rang, cutting through your sleepy haze and bringing you back to a harsher reality as you scrambled across him to pick it up as if the phone itself had caught you.

‘Hello?’ you said a touch breathless from the shock and exertion you’d forced upon yourself in the mere moments it had taken you to answer.

‘Cass?’ Elvis’ voice rang out clear as a bell into your ear causing the first wave of guilt you’d felt that morning to wash over you. A wave that grew stronger as you looked at Jerry, finding him watching you closely as you said, ‘E? What are you calling for?’

‘Why are you expecting someone else?’ he chuckled making you close your eyes unable to look at Jerry who’d now gotten all the details of the mystery caller and was watching you uncertainly.

‘Course not,’ you said injecting as much faux joviality into your voice as possible. Something that made Elvis’ reply sound curious as he said, ‘Something the matter?’

‘No, why?’ you said attempting to make it flow more naturally as you said, ‘What’s up?’

‘Nuthin’, just checking you got back alright,’ he said making that guilt flood you once more.

‘Oh yeah fine,’ you replied.

‘Good, good,’ he said clearing his throat in the way that told you he had more to say, he was just contemplating how to say it, ‘uh, you ain’t seen Jer have you?’

‘Jer?’ you asked glancing at the man in question, still pinned beneath you, his bare skin on yours.

‘Yeah, he uh, he didn’t come back last night. I’m worried,’ he said. And just as quickly as the guilt had come to you, rushing in like a tide, it ebbed out leaving your body with only irritation and anger in its wake. This wasn’t about you. He hadn’t called to make sure you were okay, to ensure that after kicking you out last night you’d made it home. No, he was worried about Jerry. About the fact his little boy's club had been disbanded prematurely. Jerry seemed to notice the change in your demeanour as you pulled back, sitting up in the bed as you said, ‘Oh, uh, yeah he’s here. His car broke down about a half hour after he left so he came back. I told him he could crash here and have it looked at this morning.’

‘Ah okay well uh tell him I’ll see him later,’ Elvis said, unable to hear the lies for what they were as they fell effortlessly out of your mouth. It surprised you that after so long together he didn’t know you well enough to know when you weren’t being honest with him. Though you supposed he never took the time to look close enough to figure it out. Or that unlike you he hadn't had enough reference material to realise when the other was spinning a web.

‘Will do,’ you said politely though you could feel the sneer on your face as you did.

‘Okay, bye honey,’ he replied.

‘Bye,’ you said, not bothering with niceties as you moved to slam the phone back to where it was.

Jerry, who had remained quiet throughout, sat up watching you closely as he said, ‘You alright?’

‘Fine,’ you said, ‘breakfast?’

And without waiting for him you scrambled up off the bed, grabbing the robe that was hanging off the back of the door as you walked out of the room and towards the kitchen. Jerry was up in a flash to follow you, scrambling to grab any piece of clothing to cover himself as he headed down the path you had gone. Though when got in there he stopped, watching you as you moved around the kitchen, whatever had been said on the other end of the phone evidently ripping whatever happy little moment well and truly away.

It was odd. When he had awoken this morning, the memories of last night flooding back to him, he had expected you to pull right away or more to the point he had expected himself to pull away. For his brain to tell him he was an idiot, that not only would Elvis tear him limb from limb whatever was left would be gnawed away by his own guilt. Yet it hadn't happened. In fact, he hadn't felt any of that until he’d watched your face change, not to guilt but to anger. That anger had stirred the same feeling in him that your sadness had.

‘You okay?’ he asked knowing the response but asking anyway.

‘Peachy,’ you said sarcastically.

‘Cassie,’ he said but you ignored him, pulling pans and bowls from the cupboard and putting them on the counter as you whittered on.

‘Do you want breakfast? I don’t know what supplies we’ve got in but I can make something if you want. You’ll need something in you before you go,’ you said as the pan you had been holding clunked loudly against the tile counter. However Jerry wasn’t paying attention to that but rather your words.

‘You want me to go?’ was all he could ask but it was enough to get you to stop. Your clenched jaw loosened as you looked at him, whatever anger you had inside you suddenly realising it was misplaced.

‘I just assumed,’ you said quietly as he moved towards you, moving behind you as his hands ghosted down yours, his lips near the shell of your ear.

‘Do you want me to go?’ he asked, his hands lingering by your hips as if waiting for the okay. If he didn’t touch you, if he let his hands hover, never touching down then the pair of you would have an out. Plausible deniability.

Yet you didn’t want that. You didn’t want him to go, like last night you wanted him to hold you, to love you, and so you shook your head. Jerry breathed a sigh of relief, his arms wrapping around you as his lips kissed just below your ear, allowing you to lean back into him for comfort. As you reached a hand up to hold his head in place, your fingers running through his long locks he mumbled, ‘I don’t want to go either just for the record.’

‘You’re sure?’ you asked, knowing that if he pulled back now it would crush you.

‘Hundred per cent.’

After breakfast followed by a quick call to Palm Springs brushing Elvis off with the façade of car trouble, the pair of you spent a lazy day together. There was no rush to any of it, no expectation to do anything except be. It was odd to you, the simplicity of it all. When you thought of the word affair all that came to mind was sordid secrets, debauched rendezvous before returning to the monotony of normal life. And yet there was none of that.

But it was still everything you needed; he was what you needed.

He made you feel better, less pathetic, loved.

Yet as you lay in his arms, watching his peaceful face as he slept it made you feel sad. He had given you everything you needed and yet you couldn’t love him, not really. At that thought you felt sadness wash over you and you made yourself climb out of bed, should you need to cry once more. He stirred as you left him, waiting patiently until you returned though when you did you didn’t give him a chance to speak.

Instead you kissed him, climbing onto him until your hips were aligned, causing his blood to run south. There was no talking as you made out, you coaxing him out of his boxers and to attention until he was lined up with your entrance. He was still sleepy, if he was being honest he was still trying to fathom how this was the second day in a row he’d woke up in the same bed as his best friend’s wife, yet as you lowered yourself down onto him, enveloping him with your heat he came to. Yet it wasn’t the feel of you that snapped him out of it, it was the look on your face. A look that told him this wasn’t the start of something, this was you saying goodbye.

He didn’t know how long you stayed there for, savouring every minute of it until you finally worked yourselves to the edge, before you collapsed onto the bed beside him spent and exhausted. Yet as he held you, his mind whirring in post-orgasmic clarity he found himself saying words he’d never thought he’d utter.

‘You could you know,’ he said making you move your head just enough to signal you were listening but not so much that he could see your face, ‘leave him I mean…if you wanted to.’

You were quiet for a moment, the words lingering in the air above you as he waited for a response. He knew it was foolish. He knew, in his heart of hearts, he knew that you had already made up your mind. That so long as Elvis kept giving you just enough you would carry on, you’d keep letting the hurt in.

‘It’s not that simple,’ you said, your voice so quiet it resembled a whisper.

‘I know it wouldn’t be easy but you could,’ he said. He knew it wasn’t his place. He knew that even with you lying in his arms he had no right to ask that of you but he needed to know. He needed to know for his own sake that you knew you could. That you could choose to walk away.

‘So why haven’t you?’ you asked pushing yourself up until you were looking at him, ‘why haven’t you walked away? I mean you’ve tried. So many times and yet one phone call and you’re back. Whatever he needs you’re there. So don’t pretend it’s that easy.’

‘Maybe I never had anything worth getting out for before,’ he countered, his fingers sweeping along your face.

‘Jer,’ you said sadly.

‘I know, I know,’ he said with a sad smile as you moved to nestle yourself into him, feeling tears building inside you.

He knew it wasn’t that simple, you both did, and yet you couldn’t help but wish it wasn’t. You couldn’t help but wish that this was some emblazoned affair, one where the pair of you fell madly in love with one another and just had to break away in order to be together. Maybe that would’ve been better than both of you just needing someone to see you. Not for what you could be or what you could provide but for you.

‘It’s nice you know,’ he said quietly after a moment.

‘What?’ you asked as your brows knit together as you struggled to find the context of whatever he was jabbering on about.

‘My apartment. Smaller than you’re used to of course and the pipes rattle in the winter but it’s cosy,’ he said. As his hand rubbed soothing circles on your back you felt those tears sting once more not because you were sad but because for the first time in forever someone realised you might be.

‘Bet it needs a woman’s touch,’ you sniffled causing a chuckle to rumble against your ear.

‘Definitely,’ he agreed, ‘and it’s only a stone's throw away from the beach.’

‘Could spend every weekend there,’ you murmured.

‘Mmm, evenings too. Don’t worry I’d make sure I was home in time for dinner. Probably get canned for rushing to leave,’ he said.

‘I’d have to dust off my cooking skills, they’re rusty,’ you giggled.

‘Honey I’d make whatever ya gave me,’ he said.

‘Hmm,’ you mused, ‘bet you’d always call too. If you were gonna be late home, never leave me hanging.’

‘Of course not,’ he promised.

Again you fell quiet though you didn’t know if it was because of the fact the ideas floated around actually sounded good or because the simplest things, the common courtesies he mentioned, were now absent from your everyday life. Hell, you couldn’t even make your husband want to see you after eight damn weeks apart. Which is why as mundane as these ideas were they were a fantasy, a nice one, but a fantasy all the same.

‘It sounds nice,’ you said after a moment.

‘It does, doesn’t it,’ he agreed.

‘I’m sorry,’ you whispered wishing you could buy into the fantasy. Wishing that you could allow yourself to let go.

‘Don’t be,’ he said, ‘I get it…you’re right. I mean I can't exactly judge you, none of us can, not when we don’t even have the strength to get out ourselves.’

‘We still have till tomorrow,’ you said.

‘You’re right,’ he said pressing a kiss to the top of your head, ‘I guess that’s better than nothing.’

✵✵✵

It was an odd feeling, to have something knowing that at some point you’d inevitably have to let it go. To know that by the end of the day whatever had transpired would be long forgotten, avoided at all costs, and yet you’d know how it felt – to be seen, to be recognised, to be loved.

That was how it felt when Jerry stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist and a glint in his eye as he clocked you standing by the bathroom counter brushing your teeth. That was how it felt when he moved in behind you, his lips on your neck if only for a moment before he moved past you into the bedroom to get changed.

You allowed him to, trying to decide whether or not to follow him but before you could make the decision you heard the sounds of someone in the house. You crept out of the bathroom, making your way down the hall ready to tell the staff they were still not needed, not until tomorrow.

And yet when you got to the living room it wasn’t the staff you found. It was Elvis.

‘Hey,’ he said his face breaking into a smile as he saw you, coming towards you so he could place a kiss on your lips. They moved against his stiffly making you unable to arrange your thoughts together to question him any further than, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Missed ya,’ he shrugged, ‘missed this.’

‘El,’ you breathed feeling guilt shroud you at the same time his arms did. Even more so as he mistook your guilty expression for one of concern for the boys who were now moving into the house, various suitcases and bags in tow.

‘Oh, they don’t care. If anything we were probably getting on each other's nerves after eight weeks,’ he said pressing another kiss to your lips. One that was cut short as you heard Jerry call your name.

As you looked towards where his voice was coming from he appeared, surprise on his face that quickly turned to a faux smile as he said, ‘Oh hey EP.’

‘Hey man,’ Elvis smiled.

‘What are you guys doing here?’ he asked, his eyes flitting to you in a fleeting glance before they fixated on Elvis, trying to ignore the way you were watching him.

‘Cassie was right. We’ve spent weeks in each other’s pocket so I thought I’d give them their release papers,’ Elvis chuckled earning a forced laugh from both of you that he didn’t seem to note was disingenuous as he said, ‘Everything alright with your car?’

‘What?’ Jerry said before his brain kicked into gear and he said, ‘Oh yeah, it uh, needed a part they couldn’t get till this afternoon. Figured there was no point drivin’ up there after.’

‘Nah probably not,’ Elvis agreed, letting you go only a little so that you were still tucked into his side as he asked, ‘She kept you entertained?’

‘Course,’ Jerry said, a tight smile on his face that Elvis didn’t clock.

‘Good,’ Elvis said, ‘though if you don’t mind I uh think we’ve got some entertainin’ of our own to do don’t you think.’

‘Right,’ Jerry said, ‘uh see you later.’

‘Later man,’ Elvis said, not even giving you a choice before he ushered you forward, taking you by the hand down towards your bedroom, though not before you shared one last look with Jerry.

It was an odd feeling, to have something knowing that at some point you’d inevitably have to let it go but it was a feeling made worse by the fact you weren’t sure you wanted to anymore. Because as much as it hurt Jerry to watch you do it, to be a fool, it hurt you just as much to know you were one.

It hurts me to see him treat you the way he does, It hurts me to see you sit and cry, When I know I could be so true, If I had someone like you, It hurts me to see those tears in your eyes.

ELVIS TAGS

@girlblogger2002 @sania562 @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics @notstefaniepresley @artlesson8892 @18lkpeters @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @presleyenterprise @everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife @lillypink @richardslady121 @lettersfromvenus @louisejoy86 @ccab

#my writing #elvis #elvis fic #elvis presley #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x reader #jerry schilling #jerry schilling fic #jerry schilling x reader #it hurts me #halloween #Halloween challenge #Halloween challenge 2023

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puddleslimewrites · 1 year

Text

Day Off

A throat cleared behind them and Villain turned, arms spread in a grand gesture of welcome. "Ah, Hero. Just who I-"

"Why are you causing trouble on my day off?"

Villain blinked at the abrupt interruption. Frowning, they took a moment to observe Hero's appearance.

They were dressed in pajamas. Though it was approaching noon, their sleep clothes were wrinkled, hair tossled like they just rolled out of bed. The sturdy boots they wore with thick soles were replaced by a pair of fuzzy pink bunny slippers. All in all, they looked wildly out of place. In fact, the only indication that they were on duty was the badge on their chest that cleared them to bypass the police baracade and step onto the crime scene.

Hero crossed their arms, waiting.

"Erm..." Villain hadn't been expecting this attitude. This wasn't a part of their script at all. Scrambling to regain their stance, they drew themself up to their full height. "I needn't explain myself to you. However, I will let you kn-"

"A hostage? Really?"

The eyebrow raised in their direction left Villain feeling insulted. How dare they! They put so much work into setting this all up, and what do they get? Hero barely spared them a glance and now-

Villain saw the punch coming but they could swear that Hero seemed to move faster in those damned fuzzy flip flops than they ever had in their suit.

It didn't take long for Hero to subdue them. They dusted off their hands and glared down at the villain, now bound and held in place by two of the responding officers.

"Anything to say before I go?" It was gracious of them, really, to hear their enemy out. Their free time was still slowly dwindling down, after all.

Villain refused to meet their eye. They were most certainly not pouting as they grumbled, "If you were busy, they could have sent Other Hero."

Other Hero wouldn't have been ideal - they'd staged all this to catch Hero's attention - but Hero didn't need to know that.

Hero shook their head, the scowl from earlier quickly returning to their face. "Other Hero is still injured from their last fight, so I had to take the call with no one else in this sector."

Villain looked absolutely pitiful the way they wilted under Hero's gaze. Hero knew not to fall for it - this villain was known for their trickery on top of the theatrics. Still, they offered them a small appeasement as they turned to go back home.

"Next time, pick a Monday," they said off-hand. "I never have those off."

They didn't see the way Villain's face brightened and paid no attention to the shouts of alarm from behind them as they left the scene. With their badge shoved deep into the pocket of their pajama pants, Hero squinted up at the sun. They still had some time left. Good.

As far as they were concerned, they were done for the day. They showed up and took care of the threat. Now they were going back to sleep.

#puddleslimewrites #heroes and villains #tired hero #dramatic villain #hero x villain #hero and villain #writing snippet #snippet #yes I am posting this on a Monday on purpose :)

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foxymoxynoona · 4 months

Text

After the Applause (Ch. 7)

Header and linebreaks by @awrkives

Single Dad Jimin x Female OC

SUMMARY: Jimin doesn't know how he would have made it this far after the shattering of his world without the support of his thoughtful, generous, helpful neighbor. Hanbyul has lived next to hottie Jimin and his adorable daughter for years now, long enough to remember the wife he was so devoted to and lost far too young. With each safely ensconced on their side of the brick wall of the Parks' grief, it will take an enterprising little scientist to set the stage for a second chance at love.

CW/tags: grief, prior loss of spouse/parent, comfort, explicit sex, secondhand embarrassment, sort of love triangle/web/rat's nest, fluff, cursing, dating apps, fuckboy friends, dancer Jimin, stubborn dad Jimin, stubborn pre-teen daughter, miscommunication, pining

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By Monday Sunnie was almost completely back to her normal exuberant self, but her round-the-clock caretaker Appa had simply ushered the illness from daughter to dad. He knew it for sure when walking her to school left him red-faced, breathless, and shivering. There was no use denying it, no choice except to call Hoseok and other staff to see who could cover his classes for at least today and tomorrow. The last thing he wanted to do was pass this onto his students, especially not with the recital rushing closer.

Besides, he could work on choreography for Taejoon’s idol group from home –that was a gig he didn’t want to pass off. He could really use the additional income this month. Rent was going up in two months and he’d been avoiding thinking about it because obviously he couldn’t upset their lives and move them somewhere cheaper. This was their home. It had been Subin’s home. He wouldn’t know where to hallucinate her in a new home where she’d never been before, as he did the whole afternoon he spent curled up on the couch, sweating through his fever.

Turned out he didn’t even have the energy to make himself tea, certainly not to choreograph a routine. Once again, Jimin had vastly overestimated himself.

At the last minute he realized he was not sure he could make the walk to get Sun-young. Shit! It was a short list of friends he felt comfortable asking for a favor like that: Hoseok was already covering his classes, Jungkook wasn’t answering his phone, but Taehyung did, on the second ring, like he’d been waiting for a call from Jimin. He was happy to get her but he had promised to go with Seokjin for something and could he just take Sun-young along with him for that? It sounded to Jimin like he’d said to greet the Muppets for the disco party but that was probably not right. The fever made everything fuzzy right now.

But whatever, Taehyung and Seokjin would never take her anywhere unsafe, so that was perfect. He called Sun-young’s school to have them give Sunnie the message Uncle Tae would pick her up and then collapsed on the couch and stopped thinking about anything. The fever was miserably uncomfortable. He didn’t have any adult medicine for it in the house; he prided himself on not getting sick often but damn it would have been welcome right now. Maye anti-nausea too, his stomach cramped and complained even though he wasn’t hungry.

The whole afternoon passed in a blink. He didn’t realize he’d even fallen asleep and suddenly Sun-young’s feet were pounding down the hallway. She knew the code and let herself in, Taehyung and Seokjin right on her heels.

Seokjin called from the hall, “No offense, Jimin, but I’m keeping my distance. I can’t get a restaurant of people sick!”

“I could use a few days off work,” Taehyung joked. “Lay one on me.”

Jimin only grunted at him and eased himself up to a sitting position. Sun-young grimaced.

“You’re really sick, Appa.”

“Wonder how that happened,” Taehyung teased and nudged Sun-young. But she looked genuinely upset, and that last thing Jimin wanted was for her to feel guilty. It was part of being a dad. He didn’t want her to hide that she was sick next time.

“It’s a testament to how close we are together,” Jimin insisted, the words a croak from his throat. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Thanks for keeping her this afternoon, Tae. Thanks, Jin.” He pushed up from the couch and did his best not to look wobbly. “OK, Sunnie, let’s figure out some dinner.”

“You sure you don’t want me to stick around and help?” Taehyung pressed.

“Nah, it’s fine, I’m good, just groggy because I’m waking up.”

“Ok… but hey man, call me if you need anything, ok? You know my schedule is flexible, I’m happy to help.”

Jimin thanked them both again and flinched when the door slammed shut behind them. The offers were sincere, he knew that, just like he rationally knew his friends did not mind covering his classes or helping him with his child. He had to believe that, because he knew he wouldn’t begrudge them the help. He loved to be helpful. But accepting help when he’d had to lean on them so much was hard. He didn’t feel like it was nearly balanced.

Belatedly he realized he should have asked Taehyung if he knew what was going on between Hanbyul and Jungkook. Taehyung was nosy, he probably knew exactly how long they’d been dating and how serious it was and where they met and the first time they kissed and everything.

Maybe it was better he hadn’t asked though. He didn’t know that he was in a good headspace right now to find out they’d been dating for months now and he was just dumb as a rock oblivious. Why wouldn’t Jungkook have told him? And honestly, wasn’t it right that Jungkook should have asked him first if he had feelings for Hanbyul before making his move? It was the right thing to do as friends.

“Appa are you ok?” Sunnie asked as he shuffled to the kitchen.

He waved his hand at her. “Yeah yeah, I’m good.”

But she planted herself in front of him and reached up to feel his sweaty forehead.

“You’re really sick, Appa. I know what it was like. Go lay down and I can make my own dinner.”

“You’re nine.”

“So what? I can make some things! Are you hungry? I can make something for you too.”

“I’m not hungry,” he admitted. He hesitated. If he insisted on cooking for her, was this just another way in which he was failing to recognize that she was growing up and gaining independence? Or was this leaning on his daughter in an unhealthy way, expecting her to be another adult in the house?

“We have gimbap, I can eat that. Go sleep. I’ll do my homework after I eat.”

“Ok…” He hesitated. This felt like a parenting failure. “Just get me if you need anything… I’ll just be in my room. You won’t be bothering me.”

Sun-young gave him a serious, decisive node and then pointed her finger towards his bedroom. He’d been summarily dismissed. It made him laugh, which turned into an achy coughing fit, so he did what she said and went to lie down.

Time passed unmeasured, but eventually Jimin rose from his deep sleep to the sounds of murmuring female voices and clinking cookware. For a brief moment, he found himself lost in time to years ago, when his wife might be in the kitchen cooking dinner. Especially after Sun-young was born, they’d alternated day-night shifts since their newborn daughter demanded attention round the clock; she’d been a terrible sleeper. He’d usually taken the night shift because he liked it anyway.

Just as quickly he landed back in the present time. He tried to push quickly and clumsily from the bed to find out who the hell was in his apartment with his daughter, when he heard a laugh that answered for him.

Hanbyul was here.

He slowed his step and glanced at himself in the mirror over his dresser. He looked fucked up. There was only so much he could do about it though, the sweaty pink shine wasn’t going away until the cold did. He brushed his fingers through his hair, trying to look devilishly disheveled. He was not sure that it worked. He changed his clothes quickly so at least he wouldn’t smell like stale sweat.

He pulled on his best smile as he leaned against the counter separating kitchen from dining and living room. Sun-young stood on a chair and peered through the lid of a deep pot. Hanbyul stood at the counter beside her with her loose sweater sleeves rolled up past her elbows, knife making quick work of an onion. Her hair was pulled up into a spiky high bun, a few wispy strands escaping to frame her face. Her eyes were red from the onions when she glanced up at Jimin. And smiled.

“Appa! How do you feel?” Sun-young asked very seriously again, her laughter from a moment ago deftly suppressed.

“I’m..” He wanted to say good but he didn’t want Hanbyul to take his appearance as normal. “I’ve been better,” he admitted. “But better since this morning… I think…” The scent of the onions tickled his nose and he turned quickly away to sneeze into his elbow. Suddenly Hudu leapt down from the couch and vaulted over to Jimin, jumping up against his legs, like he’d been sleeping too deeply to notice Jimin was even there.

“We’re making samgyetang,” Hanbyul assured him, as if he couldn’t have figured that out by the gingery smell of the broth. His nose was too stuffy to have caught it from the bedroom, but when Hanbyul lifted the lid on the pot so she and Sun-young could look inside, just enough of it managed to reach his sinuses for him to groan. He had no appetite but for that, he could develop one.

Hanbyul’s raised eyebrows made embarrassment rush through him.

“Oh, uh, it smells good. My nose is all f– messed up, but I could smell that– why are you here?” His voice cracked on the last note after croaking out the rest of it. Quickly he added, “You’re always welcome but we’re sick! I don’t want to get you sick too.”

Hanbyul shared a smile with Sun-young, as if they’d predicted and discussed this response. Jimin tried to crouch to pet Hudu, still spinning around his legs, but his body was too achy. He tried to get Hudu to jump up into his arms, but the dog wouldn’t. A stalemate in which neither of them was happy.

“I appreciate your concern but I think I’ll be all right. I have such a strong immune system, I rarely get sick. Don’t worry about me.”

“I asked her to come help me make soup for you,” Sun-young added.

“I see but– it’s very thoughtful but–” He spun quickly away to deliver a coughing fit into his elbow. Hudu was worried enough to scratch at his shin.

It meant he didn’t see Hanbyul come around from the kitchen until she touched his arm and held out a mug of steaming yuzu jelly tea.

“Please go rest more. Sun-young and I are just fine here.”

“She taught me how to mince garlic!”

“With a knife?!” Jimin cried, barely more than a wheeze of words.

Hanbyul tutted at him –tutted– “She’s old enough to learn how to safely cook things! I was much younger and still have all my fingers. Now back to bed, and make sure to drink that tea.”

She was so firm about it, he found his legs obeying. He stopped just through the door though and looked back. Hanbyul slid back around the counter and looked at whatever Sun-young was showing her on the counter. He knew that hopeful smile of Sunnie’s, that desperate need for acknowledgement. She beamed at Hanbyul’s praise for whatever it was. Together they lifted the lid and slid things in, four hands working together, and put the lid back on. The pot belched at them though, knocking the top askew. Both girls erupted with giggles as Hanbyul stirred and replaced the lid. Hudu sat in the middle of the rooms, as if he needed to see everyone at once. He watched Jimin and something in his eye made it look like he was about to bark and tattle on Jimin for not being in bed yet.

She shouldn’t be here. She didn’t need to be here. It was asking too much, for her to come into a sick apartment and make soup for him. Sunnie had done the asking and Hanbyul had come and he owed her so much.

Hudu barked.

“Go to bed, Park Jimin!” Hanbyul called, and Sunnie giggled and pointed, chanting, “Go go! We’ll get you when it’s ready!”

“Traitor,” Jimin mumbled to Hudu. Hudu stretched out to nap, conscience clear.

He lay in bed, as ordered. He sat up to sip the tea until only the dredges were left. He lay back down and listened to the crescendo of giggles across the apartment. They wove through his dozy dreams, swaddling him, rocking him in the rhythm of their conversation. He dreamed of seashell wind chimes on the balcony of a beachside bungalow; he dreamed of a crackling fireplace in front of three mugs of hot cocoa; he dreamed of a cool breeze caressing his skin with whispers: dance on, dance on.

He awoke to silence. The window was black with night, only by the light from the hallway could he find his phone in the sheets: 8:30. Time to get Hanbyul ready for bed. His body ached as he pushed himself up from the sweaty embrace of his bed. He felt like garbage, but slightly warmed over garbage, thanks to his nap-companion Hudu, who had jumped up into bed with him at some point. Garbage that could at least get his daughter’s school things ready for tomorrow, see her to bed, shower, and then collapse again. Maybe eat some soup, if there was any left.

He forgot to check his hair and face as he stumbled into the hall. Two figures sitting at the end of it made him do a double take. It wasn’t the ghost of Subin, though, and he wasn’t confused by a memory this time, only confused to see them there: Sun-young and Hanbyul kneeling in front of the shrine they kept for Subin by the narrow window she had always joked was for growing a single flower in. So they did grow a single flower in it, though Jimin often forgot to water it so it tended to be more dead than alive.

He paused as Sun-young’s voice carried, “Sometimes I don’t remember very much about her.”

Hanbyul made a sympathetic humming noise.

“I was only maybe six years old when she died? I just remember suddenly she lived in the hospital and Appa took me there to visit her and I didn’t like being there because it smelled bad and everyone was sad a lot.”

“It’s ok not to remember everything,” Hanbyul said gently. “You were very little and sometimes remembering someone we’ve lost can hurt a lot, I think, so our minds… hm, maybe they wrap a blanket around the memory to keep it safe for another time when it won’t hurt so much.”

“Maybe that’s why Appa doesn’t talk about her very much,” Sun-young said and Jimin felt a knife in his ribs. “It makes him really sad.” Jimin felt like they did talk about her a lot. Wasn’t Subin in almost everything they said and did? But less so lately, and that was… hard.

“I can’t imagine how hard it is to lose someone you love that much. You both are very strong. I’m glad you have each other.”

He knew he shouldn’t keep listening to this and yet he couldn't tear himself away. Was it really so bad to eavesdrop? He decided Sun-young was right; despite the shrine, they did not talk about Subin very often. He always feared speaking of her would only remind Sunnie of what she lost, what she didn’t have. It sure did for Jimin.

“I remember her hair was really soft and I would wrap it around my fingers when we read books together,” Sun-young said. “I just learned to read when she got sick and I read books to her in the hospital. She liked Hello Banana Moon and Cloud Bread. Do you know those books?”

“I don’t.”

“I think I still have them. I’ll let you borrow them so you can read them. They're really good but I haven’t read them in a long time. Maybe we can read them together.”

“I’d like that a lot,” Hanbyul said and Jimin could feel her smile even though he saw only the back of her head. The girls sat so close together, Subin’s smiling face beaming down at them from the shrine. He knew where those two books were: tucked into the cupboard beneath the candles and figurines and Subin’s photos. He’d tucked them there when she died because it was too much to read the words to Sun-young that ought to be in Subin’s voice.

But Sun-young wanted to share those stories her mother had taught her to read with Hanbyul.

The emotion was difficult to breathe around, a pair of fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, a rising tide blocking his throat.

“I don’t remember much,” Hanbyul said. “I didn’t know your eomma very well but I would see her in the hall or the mail room. She was always very polite and thoughtful. She would hold the door open if my arms were full. If someone left trash out, she would take on the task of cleaning it up, even though it wasn’t hers. One year there was ice on the stairs and our neighbor Ma Gurim who is high in years nearly slipped. Your mother called the building manager and wouldn’t stop calling until they came out to take care of the ice.”

Sun-young giggled and said, “Appa says I have her stubbornness.”

“Her resilience, I think it is. Her brightness. She seemed like she could do anything, just like you.”

“It’s not very fair that she died.”

“No, Sun-young. It’s really, really not fair.”

Sun-young let out a heavy sigh and rested her head against Hanbyul’s shoulder. If it made Hanbyul uncomfortable, Jimin couldn’t tell from her body language. After a moment she wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulder and rubbed her arm.

Jimin didn’t want to disturb them. He felt like he would be. Anyway, he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t have said anything better than Hanbyul had and her words lingered with him as he tiptoed away to the kitchen.

It was too much to ask of a woman, wasn’t it? To come into a house that had lost one and take over being a partner and a mother. Not that it mattered anyway because Hanbyul was seeing Jungkook now but… well, it would have been too much to ask of her and that’s why it was for the best. Probably she felt incredibly awkward talking to Sun-young about her dead mother because it was an uncomfortable topic and while obviously she had navigated it beautifully, it was too much to ask.

The kitchen had been cleaned so thoroughly there was no evidence of cooking. He opened the fridge with a start in his heart that maybe they had eaten all the soup and left none for him.

“What are you doing?” Hanbyul demanded behind him. “Shoo, get out of my kitchen! Go sit down.”

“It’s my kitchen,” he glowered, and playfully demanded, “Where’s my soup?”

She squeezed behind him and bodied him away to open the oven door where a stone bowl of the soup rested, still warm. The scent of it carried such a strong sense of strength and health and rest that it nearly brought tears to his eyes. That’s it, that’s the only reason his eyes were misty.

“I’ll carry it for you, go sit.”

“It’s time for Sun-young to get ready for–”

“I know, Appa, I’m already in my pajamas. I just need to brush my teeth,” Sun-young glowered just like him, arms crossed at his doubt. “I’ll make you tea and then go right to bed.”

“We have to get your backpack ready–”

“We did that,” Hanbyul assured him. “She wants to eat school lunch tomorrow or I said I would pack her one.”

“Unnie even ironed my uniform,” Sun-young added.

Hanbyul looked embarrassed by that and clarified, “With you both sick lately they just sat in the laundry basket for too long. Sunnie told me about her fundraiser and demonstrations.”

“Appa, can unnie help us make the rice cakes? We can teach her how to make them really nice. I know Appa isn’t a good cook but he really knows how to make the best rice cakes.”

Jimin felt like he was wrapped up in a whirlwind between them as he dove into the soup Hanbyul placed before him. They’d carried on all evening without him, and Hanbyul even had Sun-young ready for the day tomorrow. He didn’t have to worry about a thing.

“I can walk Sunnie to school too, if that’s helpful,” Hanbyul offered.

Jimin shook his head and argued, “It’s not the direction of your office.”

“You know that?” Hanbyul asked, surprised.

“I see the direction you walk, it’s not mysterious.”

She grinned and insisted, “It’s not too far out of the way though. I’ll just make my coffee at home before I go instead of stopping by the cafe. It’s better for my wallet anyway.”

“I’m sure I’ll be better by the morning.”

Sun-young put her hands on her hips and said to Habyul, “I think both my parents are stubborn.”

“There was no other way you could be,” Hanbyul nodded and it made Sun-young giggle. “It’s a good thing.”

“Is it?” Jimin teased.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that and go brush my teeth,” Sunnie said and stuck her tongue out at him.

How strange to feel like a cared-for guest in his own home. Hudu had moved to the living room since Jimin left the bed and stretched out in a new nap across Jimin’s slippers, several of his toys strewn across the rug. The TV was off but low music played through the speakers.

“I’ll turn that off,” Hanbyul realized, heading for it. “Sunnie was trying to teach me to dance.”

“You seemed to do fine at the club.”

Immediately she covered her face and sighed, “Let’s never talk about that again.”

“No problem,” Jimin said and meant it. He’d like if they could never talk about him going to check on her the next morning and Jungkook opening the door as well.

While he slurped the soup and Hanbyul fiddled with the CD player and Sun-young sang loudly to herself in the bathroom as the water ran and Hudu decided to take a break from napping and work the squeaker out of his toy, Jimin got a very foreign feeling: wholeness. He felt like he was home. He was home, but he felt like it quite suddenly, like he rarely had done since the very first day he’d come home while Subin remained in hospital.

Sun-young threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek and bid him goodnight. Hanbyul followed her to say goodnight and turn the light off and for a moment Jimin almost told them where the storybooks were, but couldn’t quite bring himself to it. It felt dangerous to, like if he offered her one more step further into their lives, he’d never be able to let her go.

Could she really co-exist with the memory of Subin? Was Sun-young really ok with that?

How could it seem so natural to watch her turn the bathroom light off and take Sunnie a glass of water and then scoop Hudu up for a snuggle. She ought to collapse onto the couch in exhaustion after an evening of parenting. And Jimin would collapse next to her, and drag her into his lap so they could stretch out and find something worthwhile to watch on the TV. She’d fall asleep there and he’d wake her gently later to move to–

Shit, he had to stop thinking like this. He had to. It was becoming too tragic to pine for his neighbor too late. He’d fucked up and only his fever-riddled brain was willing to admit how badly. Very badly. As she carried Hudu with her to sit in the chair next to him, Jimin had the unfortunate understanding that he might be very much in love with Hanbyul and been trying to hide it from himself.

I never know what I’m doing but you make me feel like I can figure it out. I think you belong here. Why don’t you just stay?

“I’m sorry if I massively overstepped tonight,” she said, completely at odds with his internal tragedy.

“No. No, of course not. You can’t overstep but you didn’t have to do all this–” He broke off to cough into his elbow –away from her. If he got her sick, he’d never get over the guilt.

“I’ve told you before, it’s not a big deal. I love spending time with Sun-young and I’m glad you were able to get some rest. I’m serious about walking her to school in the morning too, unless you’d rather have one of your other friends.”

“I’m sorry if she made you uncomfortable talking about… Subin.”

Hanbyul’s sincere confusion was so endearing that he felt a twinge of guilt, saying Subin’s name just as he thought damn, Hanbyul really is pretty, isn’t she? It’s crazy she never went into acting or modeling.

“Why would that make me uncomfortable?” Hanbyul asked. “I’m flattered she felt like telling me about her mother. She’s a part of you and Sun-young forever. It’s unfair she can’t be here to take care of you while you’re sick and take care of Sun-young, but I hope I honored her by stepping in for an evening.”

Jimin nodded, briefly without words.

Hanbyul gently touched the back of his hand and added, “I’m truly sorry for your loss, Jimin. I don’t know if I ever said that.”

“You did.”

“Well, good. And please don’t think you or Sun-young are ever a burden when you need help. No one is meant to do everything alone and–” She broke off as he suddenly flipped his hand, catching her palms against his. “--and I’m really happy to be here,” she said, barely a murmur as she stared at their hands. Jimin too, unsure how that had happened. It had been impulsive. It was the wrong move.

He drew in a deep, ragged breath and she pulled her hand away. He shouldn’t have. She was dating his friend. He couldn’t say he regretted it. He should have wound their fingers together, kept her there.

But what would he say? I care about you more. Quit Jungkook and be with me. I’m sorry I was slow but it’s scary, you see? I didn’t think I could do this again…

He pushed back from the table and she leapt up as Hudu jumped down from her lap. She reached for the dishes but Jimin shooed her away.

“I can manage them.”

The fact she didn’t argue seemed telling. She gathered Hudu’s things into her bag and slid her phone into her pocket and Jimin felt an absolute dread that she was leaving. He knew he’d overstepped with the touch. She had to think so, because it had felt insanely intimate to him, just that moment of their palms touching. Her cheeks flushed and he feared it was with anger.

He started to say he was sorry, but Hanbyul spoke over him with a smile that seemed sincere, “I’ll come by to get Sun-young at 7:30. Don’t argue about it, please. I told her I would so it’s very important to me that I keep my word.”

“All right then. Thank you. Goodnight, Hudu,” he said, scratching the dog’s head. “Goodnight, Hanbyul.”

“Goodnight.”

It felt awkward. He felt it. He’d made her feel awkward, and after all she’d done for him. But he didn’t know what to say to fix it, and he already felt like shit anyway, so this one time he kept his mouth shut and just locked the door behind her.

The apartment felt empty with her gone, just him and sleeping Sun-young left, like the movie had ended and there just credits rolling. There wasn’t even music playing anymore.

Jimin knew he ought to get back to his apartment quickly. It was bad enough he’d had to call in another favor, but it was only fair he cover Hoseok’s classes now that he was sick, and Sun-young had science club, and sometimes things just seemed impossible for a single parent.

But walking past the corner florist made him pause. And think. And think. He was a thinker, a planner, he shouldn’t do things impulsively because then things could go wrong and you weren’t prepared.

But things went wrong even if you carefully planned. Time was unknown and unsympathetic and always running out.

The apartment had just felt so empty without her in it, the chair she’d sat in pulled out as if still waiting for her to take her seat again. He felt like he was waiting for Hanbyul to get home from work. One evening wasn’t enough.

Was it worth the risk of losing a friendship over? Two friendships?

Park Jimin did something he never did: he let impulse take over.

He bought the flowers, a big pretty bouquet of purple and pink and white because they looked like stars and that was her name. Hanyul: Big Star.

He ignored the mailroom for now, because he was on a mission. He was going to shoot his shot. If it caused a rift with Jungkook… hopefully it could be mended. Probably it would cause only a rift between himself and Hanbyul because she’d be gracious about his unwelcome feelings and then he would lose something that was devastating him to have so little of anyway.

“Hold the elevator!” Jungkook called and dove inside.

For a moment they looked at each other, and then Jungkook’s face broke into a wide grin and he asked, “Who are the flowers for?”

“Sunnie.”

“Ah. Right.”

They’d forgotten to push the button, so Jungkook did.

“You here to see Hanbyul?” Jimin asked, wishing it wasn’t true.

“Yeah.”

“Ah.” Silence as the elevator shimmied to life. “So uh… that. How did that happen? Is it serious?”

“Is what serious?”

Leave it to Jungkook to make Jimin spell it out, the ass: “You and Hanbyul.”

“We’ve got a real connection. Why do you ask? You in love with her or something?”

Thank fuck for his careful control of his face.

Jimin gave him a playful grin and assured him, “No, no, I’m just looking out for her. I’m just asking if you’re serious about her.”

“You should fight me for her,” Jungkook grinned back.

Jimin’s expression twitched as he said, “I’m not… I’m not fighting you for her.” Gone was his foolish plan to sweep her out from under Jungkook.

Fuck, what an awful choice of words.

“Well not physically, I’d beat your ass,” Jungkook laughed. “I mean confessionally.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Are you at least going to give her a choice? I mean, I’m pretty serious competition, it’d be pretty hard for anyone to– but hey, maybe it’s your lucky day,” Jungkook said and slapped him on the shoulder.

“A choice… between us?” Jimin’s heart leapt into his throat with hope. Probably Jungkook was just fucking with him, but if he was actual casual enough to give Hanbyul a no-strings choice… well, would she really choose the single dad over hot young bachelor Jungkook… but… but maybe Sunnie could help him make a powerpoint and she’d find it charming…

Jungkook sighed, “You don’t like that idea? That sucks. Listen, don’t break her heart or anything, ok? She’s a really good friend of mine and–”

“No, stop, that’s what I was going to say!” Jimin forced a laugh, stepping off the elevator after him. “I just wanted to say I’m happy for you and that I–”

“Well I’m not dating her but maybe you should before someone else does, if you’re so bothered by it.”

Before Jimin could fathom a response, Jungkook pushed the buzzer at Hanbyul’s door.

“What, what do you mean you’re not–”

The door dragged open to reveal Hanbyul –in shortie shorts and a t shirt with a faded Minnie Mouse on it and stripey flower socks. Her expression shifted at once from neutral to surprise as she stared at Jimin.

Jungkook plucked a phone charger from her hand.

“Hey Hanbyul, thanks, Jimin’s got something to say to you, bye.”

He promptly turned and walked back towards the elevator.

“Uh…”

It took Hanbyul half a minute longer than it should have to realize Jungkook had retrieved his abandoned phone charger and departed. Her attention remained leveled at Jimin’s face in an attempt to not die of embarrassment: she’d just woken up from a gloriously braless and pantsless nap to a message from Jungkook saying by process of elimination he thought he’d left his phone charger at her place and was on his way over. Her offer to leave it at Jimin’s was too late; he never responded and she had time to do nothing but drag on shorts before the buzzer at her door revealed Jungkook.

And Jimin.

He looked so much healthier after his illness –thanks in part, she hoped, to the soup. He looked even better since she’d seen him, when she picked up Sun-young and walked her to school before peeling off to haul ass to work.

And then Hanbyul spent the next two days avoiding the Parks because she wanted it too much. It brought her too much happiness to be over there, doing simple domestic things with them like that. It was torture not to kiss Jimin’s flushed forehead and brush his hair back and really take care of him. It was unkind to herself and possibly to Sun-young to let herself get so close to the little girl who did not deserve to lose anyone else from her life.

The recruiter had contacted her via email and wanted to schedule an official interview; he promised to call her soon. Hanbyul had done a freaking out dance around the apartment. Then whipped her bra off and fallen into bed for a stress nap.

And now Jimin was standing at her door, seeing her in this disheveled space, holding out a bouquet of beautiful purple flowers. She did not understand and only took them because he seemed to want her to hold them for him.

“They’re for you,” he explained, as if she was an idiot (she was.) “To thank you.”

“Jimin, I told you, you have to stop thanking me. I’m going to start taking it as an insult.”

“Wha?”

“You didn’t have to get me flowers. But they’re beautiful, so thank you.” She loved how gracious that sounded, as if she could be cool about getting flowers, as if it happened all the time (it didn’t.)

“They’re stars, like your name. I don’t know what they’re actually called,” he admitted, laughing at himself.

“Thank you, I’ll put them in water right away.” She stepped into the apartment, expecting that was goodbye, but Hudu foiled her plan, darting into Jimin’s arms –or maybe Jimin had already wedged his body in to follow her through. That brat (Hudu, but also maybe Jimin.)

“One second!” she called over her shoulder and disappeared into her bedroom to frantically drag on a sweatshirt. It was going to be weird if she completely changed, wouldn’t it? But she was so unkempt. Would it be weird to put on pants?

She was taking too long. She hurried back to find Jimin going through her cabinets, looking for a vase. The only one was a heavy crystal thing she had borrowed from her mother a year ago because her mother had been grievously disappointed the visit before that Hanbyul didn’t have flowers on her table.

“Perfect, right Hudu?” He tossed a smile down to the pup, and then over his shoulder at her, and she felt simultaneously like a queen and a bug. He looked like that, smiling at her when she looked like this. It didn’t make her feel better that he’d recently looked sick. He had been adorable.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she said.

“How are you? Not coming down with anything?”

Actually she’d had a slight headache all day and her throat felt scratchy that morning, but she wasn’t going to tell him that and make him feel guilty for accepting the help. It was probably nothing. A sudden onset of spring allergies or something.

“I’m good.”

She joined him at the counter but let him do the work of untying the bouquet, snipping the stems with her kitchen scissors and arranging them artfully in the vase.

“Wow, you’re really good at that.”

“I learned some arranging tricks when I was younger because it was cheaper to buy bulk flowers and make our own arrangements for performers than buying the bouquets.”

Her phone rang –a godawful thing because she never had the ringer on and didn’t even know what it was set to– and she gasped as she reached for it, but it was only her sister so she sent it to voicemail. She couldn’t risk missing this call!

“Ouch,” Jimin laughed. “Who deserved that?”

“My sister… I’ll call her back later.”

“Oh I don’t mean to stop you–”

“No, she’s calling to ask about–” Hanbyul broke off. Was this the sort of premature news one gave a neighbor-acquaintance-friend? “I might curse it,” she admitted.

Jimin raised an eyebrow but kept his gaze on the flowers he futzed with as he asked carefully, “Curse what? Not your um, relationship with Jungkook I hope?”

“I have a job interview– uh, wait, what relationship with Jungkook–?”

“A job interview! A new job? Or the promotion at your current place?”

“I don’t have a relationship with Jungkook,” she said. “A friendship, but that’s all.”

Jimin nodded and smiled. He pushed the vase towards the center of her counter and assured her, “It’s none of my business.”

“Why, did he tell you something else?”

“No, he said the same,” Jimin shrugged.

“When we went out clubbing he had too much to drink and crashed here. Apparently he takes a phone charger with him when he goes clubbing in case he goes home with someone.” Hanbyul shook her head. She couldn’t imagine leading that kind of life. He had only laughed at her advice: maybe stop having sex the same day you meet a woman if you want deep and lasting romance so badly! Then he’d asked how deep and lasting romance with Jimin was going and she had threatened to block him.

“That he does.”

“You met someone that night too,” Hanbyul recalled –in painstaking detail. She tried to be light as she teased, “Any exciting dating plans? Someone you met on the app?” She had on the exact same expression she knew she wore when trying to make bad news sound like good news at work to the higher ups.

He hissed through his teeth and admitted, “I haven’t even finished setting up my profile. And if you’re teasing me about who I think you are, she’s on the funding board for a scholarship group my dance school works with so I had to play nice. I didn’t realize you’d sneak away on me.”

“I didn’t sneak.”

“Hm.”

“I was way too drunk to be sneaking,” she admitted. “I don’t go out much like that.”

“Me neither.”

“It was fun though.”

“Would have been more fun if we’d actually gotten to dance,” Jimin said. Hanbyul could have sworn there was a note of longing to his voice.

“You don’t want to dance with me,” she assured him. “I can’t dance at all.”

“That’s ok.”

“No, I mean it. Your daughter suggested maybe I’d do better at yoga and asked if I understand what the beat of the music is.”

Jimin laughed and covered his eyes, “Oops. She’s a sharp-shooter sometimes… But no one is a lost cause. I saw you dancing at club and you did fine. Anyone can learn with a little help, I believe it.”

What were they talking about it again?

“Maybe next time. If there is a next time.”

“I hope there’s a next time,” Jimin said. He looked to the side in thought, then shook his head and admitted, “Honestly I was kicking myself. I don’t know why I hadn’t already introduced my friends to you. Of course you get along with all of them.”

“Why would you introduce your neighbor?” she laughed. Try to keep it light. This conversation felt strange for a reason she couldn’t quite put her thumb on. It felt serious, like an air of goodbye had settled around them in a haze.

She hadn’t even done the interview yet!

“You’re not just my neighbor,” Jimin corrected. “Ma Gurim is just my neighbor. You’re at least a close friend.”

“At least,” she immediately repeated.

He looked surprised by his own word choice, panicked almost, and clarified, “Not just anyone will come over and take care of me and my daughter when I’m sick.”

“Get over yourself, it’s not an inconvenience,” she teased to cover the way her heart fluttered high in her chest. At least a close friend.

“Get over myself,” he repeated with a laugh. “It’s true, I have an ego sometimes.” He ran his fingers through those blond locks.

Her phone rang. What timing! She wanted to follow that train of thought: what did he mean by ego? Why was he smiling like that? He wasn’t flirting with her, was he? He must still be sick.

But interview terror temporarily outweighed Jimin confusion, and she answered her phone before it could ring a third time. Jimin’s eyes got big and he shirked his shoulders as if he shared her excitement and didn’t leave.

The recruiter was straight-forward but polite on the phone. There was interest in her resume and application letter. They would like to meet her for an afternoon of interviews. There would be several rounds for this more senior position, she must understand the selection process was thorough to ensure a good fit, which date from a list of available would work for her? Did she have any professional references she could provide for contact?

Hanbyul flew around the kitchen but Jimin was the one to find the pen and paper for her. She rattled off two former colleagues she had already messaged about acting as references. She could make the date work –though it worried her, taking time off from her current job to interview, like they would know she was up to something and fire her, and then she might not get the new job, and have no job.

By the time she hung up, her heart was racing as if she’d been interviewed already. She hoped the man couldn’t tell over the phone.

“A new job,” Jimin said. “That’s… exciting.”

“It might be,” she agreed. “If I get it.”

“They’d be fucking crazy to snooze on you. Where is it? You didn’t say…”

“Oh, well the company has several branches. One is here but there’s also one near my parents, in the town I grew up in. My sister’s about to have her baby, you know, and–”

“Right, yes, I understand.” He was nodding a lot.

“So now I have an interview,” she breathed out.

“It can be hard to live away from family,” he continued. “I understand why you’d want to move back near them.”

Yes, there were plenty of reasons to go. She had told the recruiter her childhood hometown was her branch preference. It should be her branch preference. Her parents were getting up in years and she would want to know her sister’s baby. She’d set out for Seoul years ago and what did she really have to show for it? Hudu was not an anchor.

“What made you stay here instead of moving back to be near your parents?” she asked.

“Ah, it was a hard choice,” he admitted. “They wanted me to. Sometimes I’ve wondered if it was the right choice. But I have family here too, so does Sunnie. Subin’s parents are here and I didn’t want her to lose that connection with her mother’s family. But also Taehyung and Jungkook and Hoseok, Yoongi, everyone, they’re here. They’re my family too. We have a home, I have my dance school, Sunnie loves her school.”

“That all makes sense.”

“For a long time I wondered if I just stayed here because it’s where I was before… but this is my life. Everything, almost everyone I care about is here.”

Hanbyul was the one nodding a lot now. She looked at the pretty flowers Jimin had brought her, just to say thanks for doing a thing she wanted to do all the time. She knew with absolute clarity that she couldn’t go into a job interview without knowing once and for all whether she too had a family anchoring her here. For a moment the image of her with him felt so real she could reach out and touch it. She needed to know if the illusion would dissolve at the brush of her fingertips.

It was crazy to wonder. It was wistful thinking. She was crazy fucking delusional.

But she had to know for sure and if there was nothing, if she was completely imagining the flirting, if he just wasn’t ready or wasn’t interested in welcoming her specifically into his life well… well that was good to know.

“I don’t have a relationship with Jungkook,” she said, feeling like someone else was speaking the words. “But um, I did date Namjoon for a little bit.”

Jimin’s brow pinched in confusion as he repeated, “Namjoon? You already know Namjoon? When did you date–”

“Recently,” she admitted.

Jimin’s eyebrows raised before he said slowly, “Ohhhh. No, really? You’re the woman who… at the club, that’s why…”

“I guess that’s me.” She twisted her mouth, not sure what to say about Jimin knowing her by action. Why was she admitting this again?! “I, um… it wasn’t serious, at least I didn’t think so. It was nice, I mean he’s nice, he’s a good guy, but it just didn’t…” She gestured, wishing Jimin would finish the sentence for her and read her mind. Alas, he did not.

“You just ended it that day we went clubbing.”

“I’d been putting it off. I sort of didn’t know if there was even anything to end, I mean we weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend or anything, we only went on a few dates really but– I admit, I didn’t handle it well, I should have called it off earlier. I didn’t know what to do because…”

She hated that she couldn’t read Jimin’s mind either. His expression was inscrutable.

“I have feelings for someone else,” she said and felt like a good ten years of her life drained away with the words leaping from her tongue. She didn’t feel in control of that tongue. “I thought it would be better to meet someone else and move past those feelings.” She swallowed and cleared her throat. Her nose was getting stuffy. “But it didn’t work and it wasn’t fair to Namjoon.”

“This someone else doesn’t return your feelings?”

She studied his face, desperate to tell if he understood what she was saying. She didn’t think she could be any more transparent, it would kill her. But she had to be. There wasn’t room for error and even though he was watching her so carefully right now, leaning forward, mouth open in that thoughtful pout he had, she couldn’t tell if he understood. She needed him to understand. She could be brave.

“No,” she admitted. “At least I don’t think so.”

“How could he not?” Even just that, even if he said or felt nothing else, Hanbyul felt warmed to her soul.

Her smile flickered as she tried to joke, “I know, I’m a catch! But I’m still honored just to be neighbor Han–” He stepped forward suddenly and caught her face, cutting her off with a kiss. His lips pressed to hers, the softest caress, softer than her wildest dreams. A second kiss followed, harder, more certain, but still unhurried, like he had all afternoon to spend dragging that plush lower lip of his against hers. He kissed the ten years back into her lungs and then some; she felt sunlight seep from his fingertips into her jaw. She was drowning in him.

“He does return your feelings, Hanbyul,” he murmured, their noses brushing. “He’s just an idiot.”

“He’s not an idiot,” she argued. “He’s… careful.”

“So careful he may have missed his chance.”

What a silly fear from a silly, silly man. She slid her hands slowly up his chest, curious and shy at the strong curve of muscle firm behind the fabric. His neck was so warm beneath her palms. It felt scandalous to touch him so much, to hold him so close, to feel his hands ghost down to her waist, his fingertips nudging her closer.

“It’s not too late at all,” she whispered. “Not unless…” Hudu’s cold nose poked her calf and she startled. Leave it to her dog to nose in on the most romantic moment of her life because he couldn’t stand whispering.

“Unless what?” Jimin asked cautiously, as he leaned away to look in her face. Hudu barked and Jimin’s serious expression cracked into a smile as Hudu leapt up and scratched at his thigh for attention. As if demanding ok now what about me, where’s my kiss?

God Jimin was even more beautiful up close, and now she knew what those lips felt like pressed to hers, and no words could do them justice. It didn’t seem real. Even his proximity didn’t seem real. It made her forget what she was saying until he threw a toy from the counter to distract Hudu and then pretended like they hadn’t had that interruption.

“Unless what?” he repeated.

“I just told you that I dated your friend. We, um, slept together….” Her face felt like it was on fire from the combination of kiss and confession. Double confession. Not the greatest combination of confessions.

Jimin actually rolled his eyes and sighed, “Yeah, I figured as much, I don’t need a play by play. But I kind of have a past too. I was married and she died. I have a daughter.”

“I know that.”

“And that’s not a dealbreaker for you?”

“No, of course not,” Hanbyul said, not understanding how it could be.

“Then why would your past be a dealbreaker for me?”

“Well, it’s a very recent past…”

He shook his head, grinning, his earring dangling, and laughed, “I don’t care.”

“Really?”

“I think people are lucky if they get one chance at happiness in life. If I get another chance… I’m not going to let anything get in the way of it. Definitely not jealousy about you dating someone else before me. I can only be mad at myself for waiting so long, right?”

The magnitude of what he’d said was not lost on her. Another chance at happiness. That was… big. Bigger than a little crush, certainly bigger than anything casual thing she and Namjoon had talked about. For Jimin to speak so openly and optimistically about a future with her only moments after kissing her…

She did it, she stole another kiss. She wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of her happiness, either.

Then she gasped and laughed into her hand, “God, the first time you kiss me and I’m dressed like this!”

“I like it,” he immediately argued. “It’s cute. You’re very cute dressed like this.”

“I was taking a nap waiting for that call–”

He brushed the hair tenderly back from her face and instantly silenced her. The self-deprecation died on her lips because he looked at her like that. His fondness was transparent. How could she not feel radiant? Surely he’d never looked at her like that before, she couldn’t have missed it. The light touch of his fingers sent a shiver down her spine. Park Jimin was a dangerous charmer and somehow she was the object of his affection.

Impossible.

“Hanbyul,” he said her name lowly.

“Mm-hm.”

“Your face is very warm.”

“I’m…” She trailed off and pouted that he would make her say it. “I’m flustered.”

“I think you have a fever.”

“No, I don’t…”

“Are you sure you feel well?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Really.” He pressed his cold hands to her cheeks and her forehead and her neck and she flinched, the muscles there stiff.

He narrowed his eyes at her and accused, “Did I get you sick and you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s probably just allergies.” She felt a jolt of worry. Would her being sick cause Jimin extraordinary distress because his wife had died?

He cradled her face. He looked at her so sweetly.

And ordered, “Get your buns to bed. It’s my turn to take your child for the evening. I’ll bring you stew.”

“But…”

“Don’t worry, I won’t cook it. I’ll order it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he insisted. “And not just because I got you sick but because taking care of you isn’t a burden to me either. It’s what good neighbors do.”

“Jimin!”

He snickered and then kissed her again, as if he couldn’t believe they did that now either. She was completely cowed into obeying his order to bed. He cared about her. He wanted to take care of her. And also to tease her, what a brat! She adored him.

“We’ll talk more about this later,” he promised, brushing his nose against her forehead. “If you promise I’m not too late, I can be patient for a little bit longer.”

“Is this just a fever dream?” she murmured. Was Park Jimin really saying these things to her?! She felt like she’d hit her head and woken up in a drama.

“So you admit you have a fever.”

“No! Maybe… I’ll get my thermometer.”

She did. And Jimin brought over soup and kept Hudu, like he’d promised. And by the time Hanbyul had finished squealing over the phone at her sister –with very little space for her sister to contribute anything– her voice was shot and her nose was stuffed too much to even sniff her pretty flowers Jimin had brought her.

Did he really mean it, that he cared for her too? What did this mean for them? He hadn’t asked her out but said they would talk more later… Should she ask him out or wait for him to ask her out? Should she ask both of them out? Would Sun-young figure out something was off? Would it be upsetting for her? That child was crazy smart, she would definitely figure something out and ask Hanbyul on the spot and what was she supposed to say? I spiked a fever because your appa kissed me.

Being patient was hard. Harder than Jimin had anticipated. He had thought that kissing Hanbyul and admitting to her that he had feelings would bring him peace but instead it drove him fucking crazy because here they were hovering in this limbo space and she was sick. His fault! She’d cleared caught it taking care of him, and all he could do was take her soup and walk Hudu for her. It wasn’t nearly enough, not compared to how much she had done to take care of Sun-young. Definitely not as much as he wanted to do. He could see her shoulders ached with the fever; how badly he wanted to rub them for her. She was flushed and sweaty and he wanted to brush her hair back –in fact he did, but that felt like as much as he could do for now.

She’d confessed first. God, he respected her so much for that. He’d definitely been about to chicken out. In hindsight he appreciated Jungkook putting him on the spot, but it didn’t escape him that, secretly, if she hadn’t said it first, he might have run away. He wanted to be brave, he did, but he felt so hopelessly out of his depth here. He didn’t think he could be trying this again with anyone but her, only Hanbyul, because she would be patient if he fumbled a bit. He truly believed that.

But they hadn’t had a chance to talk again because she was sick and he had promised to be patient, and he didn’t want to pressure her in case she took it back, if he harassed her. It scared him for her to be sick. He would be inclined to hover. He didn’t want to scare her off already.

Because now that this door was open, maybe open, if Hanbyul meant what she said and hadn’t just been delirious with fever��

His heart raced every time he walked by Hanbyul’s door. When he buzzed to ask if Hudu wanted to go out again, he felt like a tongue-tied teenager again.

Sun-young seemed to just accept that they’d been taking Hudu on walks for the last two days as if it was something they’d always done. She held Hudu’s leash and led Jimin on a path around the park that was clearly familiar to her and Hudu both.

“This is where unnie goes when we walk,” Sun-young informed him as they set out on a bigger circle of the park. “We go to the cafe and she buys me hot chocolate.”

“Hudu goes in with you?”

“He’s a very good dog,” Sunnie assured him, which of course he knew. Jimin suggested they go, since she was clearly leading him there anyway, and listened with bemused interest as Sun-young told him facts she’d learned about dogs from a book at school, and how dogs were bred for jobs, and how she wondered what job Hudu was bred for.

“I think he’s a mutt,” Jimin said.

“That’s not very nice!”

“No, it’s not an insult. He just isn’t a purebred.”

“So?”

“No, I know, it’s not a bad thing,” Jimin insisted. “But purebreds are the dogs who were bred for a specific job. Mutts just… happened.” Because animals will be animals…

“Well I think Hudu would be very good at a job,” she said, and crouched down to scratch his ratty brown fur. “He can do anything he puts his mind to.” Hudu looked thrilled at her praise and nodded and licked the air in front of her, tail thumping against the pavement.

“Just like you.”

“That was cheesy,” she teased. “I wish Hudu was our dog.”

Jimin swallowed and nodded and casually suggested, “Well, he’s our good friend’s dog, so it’s kind of the same.”

“It’s not the same at all. If he was our dog he would live with us but right now we have to go all the way down the hall to see him.”

“Mm-hm,” Jimin hummed. Yeah, tell me about it. He knew it was too soon to talk to Sun-young about this thing that might be happening, that he might be going to date Hanbyul. He didn’t know what that meant, much less could he explain it to his daughter. It might mean nothing. Hanbyul might change her mind. They might go out on a few dates and she’d decide it wasn’t working. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, just because he was excited. Having a girlfriend wasn’t like adopting a dog, you didn’t just fill out some paperwork and they were yours forever.

“Appa why is your face all red?” Sunnie giggled. Yah, because I thought the word ‘girlfriend’ about Hanbyul. It was stupid to feel so giddy about it, like some deep slumbering part of him was creaking to life. They hadn’t even gone on a date yet. Hudu snipped at buds pushing through the ground in the flower beds lining the sidewalk and that was exactly how Jimin felt. He was waking up. Hanbyul made him feel like he was blossoming after a long, very hard winter.

“I’m just cold,” he muttered.

“It’s not cold at all,” she insisted, and did a little spin on the sidewalk. It killed him how graceful she was and turning her back on dance but it was her choice. OK. He was living with it. “Hey we should start planning the rice cakes you signed us up to make for the fundraiser, huh? Do you know what science demonstration you’re doing yet?”

“Not yet. Let’s get hot cocoa to warm you up,” Sunnie suggested. Jimin wondered if that was what Hanbyul usually said; the phrase struck him as odd coming from his nine year old daughter.

Hudu was pulling them that way too, so Jimin went along for it. She was right, it wasn’t that cold, it was actually very beautiful out this early April evening. Hanbyul liked winter but he knew she liked spring too, she would love walking in this right now, just as the cherry blossoms were reaching their peak. It was criminal she was stuck inside.

“Maybe if Hanbyul feels better this weekend we can see if she’ll go on a picnic with us to see the cherry blossoms,” he suggested.

“Because you just want her to cook for us?” Sunnie gave him a stern glare.

“What? No! I’ll cook.”

“You want to make her sick again?!”

“Hey!” he scowled, and pinched her cheek. She giggled and batted him away, but then grabbed his hand and wrestled with it before there was actually any space between them. He wrestled right back as they waited for the light and Hudu leapt around them, yipping like he was tattling. Jimin won by wrapping his arm around Sun-young and pulling her into his side for a stolen hug which she, breathlessly, conceded.

“Didn’t we go on picnics to see the cherry blossoms with Eomma when I was a baby?” Sun-young asked.

Jimin froze.

“We’ve gone other years,” he said slowly. Yes, it had been an annual tradition, as it was for most families. They’d missed the year after Subin died, because he couldn’t handle it. Maybe they’d missed the year after too? “Seokjin and Namjoon went with us last year.” He watched her as they waited, anxious about why she had thought of going with Subin and not with their other friends after he’d suggested it with Hanbyul. Had she already picked up on something special about Hanbyul going along, about his maybe budding relationship with Hanbyul? Was she already feeling like Hanbyul was encroaching on Subin’s place as her mother?

“Uncle Seokjin is a good cook too,” Sunnie mused. “If you invite him and unnie and Uncle Yoongi we can eat so much.”

Jimin laughed awkwardly.

How the fuck was he going to talk to Sun-young about Hanbyul? He ought to wait until things progressed with Hanbyul, until he was sure she was sure there was a future there. This could be deeply distressing for Sun-young, him starting to date. Especially someone Sun-young cared about so much. It could ruin her relationship with Hanbyul, she could lose another very important person in her life if it was too soon for her. The progress he’d made with Sun-young could be undone. This thing that he wanted so badly might be the worst possible thing for his daughter… He couldn’t do anything to hurt her… Maybe a counselor could help? He was selfish, he wanted it all, but he also genuinely believed Hanbyul would be so good for Sun-young. Fuck, was he getting ahead of himself? But they were a package, he couldn’t be with someone who wouldn’t be a positive force in his daughter’s life, who his daughter didn’t absolutely love–

“Appa aren’t we going to cross?” Sun-young sighed noisily and then laughed at him as he hurried to lead her and Hudu across before it changed. He was sweating now. Was it better to wait to say anything until he and Hanbyul had been dating a while or was Sun-young going to figure it out no matter how they tried to hide it and be hurt he’d tried? But she was a child. But what if she was mad. But obviously he couldn’t tell her something like this when nothing had even happened yet, and might even not happen if Hanbyul thought better of it before he managed to ask her out.

“Ok Hudu, be really good in here,” Jimin warned the dog, despite Sun-young insisting he knew how to behave –as if implying Jimin was the wild card here.

It was a cute little cafe, just a nice little local place, not too busy but busy enough to be a reputable place. A curved green awning hung over the door and there were cherry blossoms painted on the window. The decor was simple and clean, dark wood in the seating area and crisp white around the counters and coffee machines.

Sun-young marched right up to the line at the counter, Hudu’s leash tighter around her hand to hold him close, like she must have seen Hanbyul do. It was sweet, seeing this glimpse into what Hanbyul and his daughter did without him.

When it was their turn, the older woman at the counter smiled at Sun-young and asked, “Oh, you’re not with your eomma today?”

A jolt ran through Jimin. He was used to this –people questioning where his wife was, other mother’s asking to speak to Sun-young’s mother, teachers assuming Subin would be the one to volunteer for class things. But worse, he realized with a shock that the cafe woman thought Hanbyul was Sun-young’s mother. This preyed instantly on the fears he had just been living, as if the universe reached down to pluck them out of his brain and bring them into the real world.

“Oh, I–” Jimin began just as Sun-young chirped, “This is my appa! Can we get two hot cocoas?”

Jimin was stunned by the graceful way she evaded the question and only nodded along as Sun-young picked out two pastries as well, and then led him to a table by the window, explaining, “We like this table the best so we can watch people in the park.” Hudu curled up beneath Sun-young’s chair and waited patiently for her to pass down a spoon of whipped cream. She sang, “Who likes whipped cream? Who do? You do, Hudu!”

Jimin blew on his hot cocoa and tried to find the words.

“Um… Sunnie, you handled that very well,” Jimin eventually mustered. He watched her closely, waiting for any sign she was distressed at this reminder of the fact she didn’t have a mother, or confusion around Hanbyul’s role in her life.

Sun-young looked thoughtful before laughing, “I thought you meant giving Hudu whipped cream! You mean ordering our drinks? I was practicing what to say before we came in here because unnie orders for us but she tells me to order sometimes too.”

“No, I meant… the confusion from the woman about Hanbyul…”

“Oh that’s nothing. People think unnie is my eomma a lot,” Sun-young informed him. “Well, not a lot, but sometimes people in the park or here think that.” She looked at the ceiling thoughtfully a moment, licking whipped cream off her upper lip, then asked, “Are you mad I didn’t tell her the right thing? I usually tell people the right thing but if you tell someone who doesn’t really know you that your mom is dead, they feel really bad about it. I didn’t want to make the woman feel bad when she’s just being nice. She works here a lot and unnie always talks to her.”

Jimin curled his hands around the cup and insisted, “I’m not saying you have to say anything. I know exactly what you mean.”

“You do?”

“People don’t know how to respond when you say something sad, like that your eomma is gone. It’s thoughtful of you that you didn’t want to make her feel bad but it’s ok to correct them still, even if it makes them feel bad for a moment.”

“Oh. You wanted me to?”

“No, I mean that… I don’t want you to think you need to go along with something that makes you feel sad or bad just to not make the other person feel a little awkward,” he rephrased.

“It didn’t make me feel bad,” Sun-young said. She set her cup down and had a dollop of whipped cream on her nose which she tried to get off with her tongue before giving up and using the back of her hand before he could find a napkin. “She just doesn’t know me. Why?” Suddenly Sun-young looked worried. “You think it’s bad?”

“No no. You’re right that she doesn’t know you. I just meant it’s ok if it does make you feel sad, or if it bothers you for someone to think Hanbyul is your eomma and you want to correct them.”

Sun-young stretched her tongue out to get whipped cream off the edge of her cup before saying, “No, I don’t mind.” If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was far more interested in whipped cream than this conversation.

“No? Ok…”

“Sometimes she kind of acts like an eomma anyway,” Sun-young continued. “Like she does some things my real eomma would do if she was here.”

Every muscle in Jimin’s body clenched.

“Is that… ok?”

Sun-young couldn’t have looked more casual with her cheek on her hand as she scrunched her eyebrows and answered, “Yeah, why not? Then you don’t have to do everything.”

“I don’t mind doing everything.”

“You can’t do everything,” Sun-young insisted and gave him a look like he ought to know this. “It’s not that I like her more than you, you’re still my appa. But she’s a girl too and she does some things differently and I think it’s better having her around.”

“Yeah?”

“I get to see her so much lately, I mean until she got sick but you said it’s just a cold.” She gave him a quick look like a sudden fearful thought occurred to her.

“It’s just a cold,” he confirmed. “She got sick coming over when I was sick.”

“How did she get sick from you?”

“Hey that’s what happens with contagious colds,” he quickly insisted, afraid where her questions might lead her. “I didn’t do anything, that’s just how germs work. Just like it’s not your fault I got sick after you were sick. You’re into science, don’t you know about germs?”

“A little bit.” She began to rattle off things she knew about germs, peppering him with questions, so clearly unbothered by this entire conversation. Jimin felt himself start to thaw out. Surely it wouldn’t be that easy. It had only been a few years since Subin died. Sun-young’s feelings could change quickly if Hanbyul actually became a more official presence in her life. She was a little girl with such a little girl understanding of the world and relationships…

But she was growing up too. Maybe he was underestimating her. Again.

Once their pastries and hot cocoa were gone and Hudu was getting restless, Sun-young asked, “Maybe we should take a brownie home for unnie so she’s not sad we came here without her.”

“That’s a good idea. Do you know what she likes?”

“Definitely.” Sun-young made the selection, and the woman packed it up carefully, extending her sympathies when Jimin explained Hanbyul was sick. He didn’t fix the misconception earlier. It was wrong not to. He perpetuated a lie. He was pretending something, trying it on, something he didn’t have any right to yet.

He felt the twinge of discomfort in his heart. Were things moving too quickly? Was it too soon? He had promised to love Subin his whole life, and now here he was letting this cafe woman believe that Hanbyul was his wife, Sun-young’s mother, all the things that Subin had actually been.

But alongside it was this fresh, slightly raw, new feeling. Like maybe those clothes could fit in time. Not yet, it was foreign and uncertain and scary but… but maybe he could get used to it. If Hanbyul could be patient with him

He had a feeling she would be.

“Maybe you can get unnie flowers too,” Sun-young suggested as they passed a woman selling bouquets on the corner as they crossed back to the park.

“I gave her flowers just a couple days ago.”

“Really?”

“Uh… yeah, you know, to thank her for helping out so much while I was sick. But then she was sick so I don’t think she can even enjoy them. Her nose isn’t working.”

“Maybe you should just ask unnie out on a date again.”

Jimin thought for sure he’d misheard her. He tripped on the curb as Hudu leapt ahead, barking at a squirrel. Sun-young dropped the leash and cried out, but Hudu immediately stopped and trotted right back, waiting patiently for Sun-young to pick the leash up again.

“What did you say?” Jimin asked, clearing the cough from his throat.

“Don’t you like her?”

“Hanbyul-ssi?”

“Yes.” Sun-young looked up at him with her big dark eyes, waiting expectantly.

“Of course, what’s not to like about her?” he returned, trying to sound casual.

“I know, and I think she likes us too and you already took her flowers so… I think it’s backwards? But I don’t really know anything about dating. I think you take her to see a movie now,” Sun-young suggested. As if she was really scraping her knowledge here to help her poor old appa who didn’t know anything about dating.

“You… would be ok with that?”

“I guess you can see a grownup movie I’m not old enough to watch anyway.”

But Jimin desperately wanted this permission that chance and the strange wandering mind of his daughter had brought him, so he pressed, “You would be ok if I went on a date with Hanbyul? If I… if we spent more time with her?”

“I know what dating is,” Sun-young scoffed. “I know when we went to see Mango Crush it wasn’t even really a date because I was there so this time it can be just the two of you.” Jimin walked slowly, taking Hudu’s leash to pull him closer as some bicycles whizzed past and a bigger dog barked loudly. Hudu didn’t like it and stuck closer to Jiminn’s leg. He was thinking of what to say next.

Instead Sun-young asked, “Do you think it’s weird because it’s not eomma?”

“Weird isn’t the word I was thinking but… maybe. Do you think so?”

“No,” Sun-young said. He thought that was a strange answer and didn’t know whether to trust it.

“I miss your eomma every day,” he continued, “and I haven’t wanted to think about meeting someone new. No one can ever replace your eomma. She loved you so much. I loved her so much.”

“I know that.”

“So I just want to be careful. I don’t want to do anything that makes you and me sad. It’s hard to lose your eomma. It was hard for me to lose my wife.”

Sun-young pursed her lips in thought and it broke his heart, having such an adult conversation with a little girl. It was wrong what he’d said before. She didn’t have a little girl view of the world; she’d had to grow up very quickly in some ways. He just wanted to protect what little girl remained.

“I miss Eomma too, I wish she didn’t die. But I like doing things with unnie too. Is that ok?”

“It’s definitely ok.”

“Then why is it weird?”

“Just… because… I don’t know. Maybe it’s not weird,” he admitted because he didn’t know how to explain his complicated feelings and maybe he didn’t need to. If Sun-young didn’t have a hard time holding both Subin and Hanbyul in her heart, maybe he didn’t need to make it weird for her. If her feelings changed, if she felt different lately, well, they would work through that then.

“Yeah, don’t make it weird, Appa, and don’t try to be funny and confuse her so she doesn’t know you’re asking her out. Unnie says when you are communicating something important, you have to be firm and clear and believe in yourself.”

“Are you… giving me advice on how to ask her out?”

“Yes!”

Jimin glared and assured her, “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out. I’ve done this before.”

“With eomma? But that was so long ago.”

“Hey!”

“When we get home you can take Hudu and the brownie and I’ll run to our apartment so you have privacy,” Sun-young suggested.

“I’m not asking her out today! She’s sick!”

“But if you wait, Uncle Tae might ask her out! I think he likes her too.”

And Namjoon and Jungkook Jimin internally grumbled.

“Don’t you worry about it.”

“Maybe I should help. I asked her out for Mango Crush.”

“Sunnie,” he stopped her right outside the building. “I’ve got this.”

She clapped her hands together and agreed, “That’s good, Appa, believe in yourself. I think she likes us a lot, I think she’ll say yes.”

He did not ask Hanbyul out, despite Sun-young’s eager questions as soon as he got back from returning Hudu and delivering the brownie. He tutted her away. Now he wondered if it would be better for her not to have known for a different reason. She might overwhelm Hanbyul. She might make Hanbyul feel rushed or pressured into something she didn’t actually want.

No, he had to trust Hanbyul in making her own decisions. He believed she would. And his heart did feel lighter about it all knowing he had Sun-young’s shockingly full support.

Instead he waited until Sun-young had gone to bed to make the last phone call he needed to before he’d feel free to take the next step.

“Hey, Namjoon! I don’t want things to be awkward between us so I want to be upfront with you about my feelings for Hanbyul…”

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#jimin ff #jimin x oc #park jimin fanfic #dad jimin #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #single dad jimin #after the applause

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lxkeeeee · 1 year

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「GUNITA」 Scaramouche x GN! Reader —memory, recollection

synopsis: thunder rumbles in the distance, soft pitter patter of rain hitting the cold cement sidewalk, the reflection of the street light can be seen on the puddle forming everywhere. Two strangers sharing an umbrella as they wait for the bus the cold evening winds making them shiver—this specific scene ignites a warmth feeling—a memory perhaps?

genre: Reincarnation Au, fluff with angst if you squint

warnings: curse words, mentions of death and trauma (past life)

Scaramouche groaned in annoyance as he has been waiting underneath the large tree by the street—waiting for the bus, it has been hours since his shift at the cafe ended, the sun had already set hours ago and he can see dark grey clouds starting to form.

“shit, I forgot to bring my umbrella.” he mutters underneath his breath, cursing himself for insisting it wouldn't rain today.

Kazuha had already left awhile ago as both of his moms picked him up, he offered him a ride home but he insisted that he would be fine in just taking the bus and in which the latter respected his wishes and bid him farewell.

He scoffed at the memory, deeply regretting not accepting the offer—he puts on his headphones, taking out his phone and eventually choosing a song—come inside of my heart by IV of SPADES started to play, and shoving his hands and along with his phone into the pocket of his dark black pants. Scaramouche didn't really like listening to romance songs but he just decided to give this song a try since he kept hearing it on social media.

As he stood there, under the night sky filled with dark and thunderous clouds, headphones blasting with music, he's getting more annoyed by the second—He could just call his aunt to pick him up but he prefers not to see the smug look of Nahida that she was right that it was gonna rain and he insisted it would not due to how sunny the morning was.

He felt a soft tap on his shoulder, then another and another.

“unfuckingbelievable.” he grumbles under his breath, “Good thing both my phone and headphones are waterproof.” he mutters to himself as he felt his clothes starting to get wet—his loose white polo shirt starting to have wet stains from the rain, thunder can be heard in the distance.

You gently rearrange the flowers that was displayed on the windows, watering them to their required amount, you passed by the glass door of the shop and you flipped the open sign to closed. You smiled to yourself, proud of the accomplishment you have done for the day.

Your eyes traveled to the numerous plants inside your shop, a warmth feeling in your heart to see them grow so healthy and beautifully. You gently removed your gardening gloves and put them to where you usually store it, a small bead of sweat trailing down at the side of your face—quickly using your arm to wipe them off.

“Alright, it's time to close the shop.” you mutter to yourself.

On Sundays you worked at your very own flowershop and during Mondays until Saturdays you worked at your clinic—specifically a vet and during that time you have workers doing your work at the flowershop and you'll take their shift during late afternoons. You just love growing your own flowers and vegetables and be able to sell them to the people and watch their eyes glint in awe and admiration for something that your very hands grew—it fills your heart with pride and joy.

You grabbed your bag—along with your phone, wallet, umbrella, and keys before eventually closing the shop, your eyes noticing the dark grey clouds forming and eventually seeing soft pitter patter of rain hitting the ground. You smiled softly to yourself, “At least the plants outside can get water.” before opening up your umbrella and began walking towards the bus stop. Their shoes making small taps against the cement sidewalk, their eyes occasionally looking the ripples in the small puddles created by the rain, the street lights casting a shadow over their body as they passed by multiple buildings. Their eyes landed into the big tree where the bus stop sign is at, “They seriously needed to build a small waiting shed there.” they mutter to themselves before their eyes landed into...a person?

They thought to themselves, eyes squinting to get a better view, the person was soaked—their once loose white polo shirt has been completely wet to the point they can see the undershirt underneath it, their hair dripping wet and is that a headphone?

They winced, the person looked like they've been there for awhile now.

You sighed to yourself as you slowly approached the the male with your umbrella in hand.

He didn't seem to notice you, his eyes closed and you can hear the song that was playing on his headphones.

Is he asleep? You thought to yourself, feeling pity for the guy before eventually sharing your umbrella with him, the rain finally stopped hitting the male and started to hit on the soft rubber material of the umbrella.

Your eyes continued to examine the guys features and you would be lying to yourself if you didn't find him attractive.

He has been here for archons how long, he stopped caring that he got wet a few minutes ago, he decided to get lost into the music as the rain continued to pour, some of his dark indigo hair getting into his face.

Alam mo ba kung pano nahulog sayo, naramdaman lang bigla ng puso¹ the singer of the song he was listening to sang, he just got lost into the moment. He got lost in his thoughts when suddenly the soft taps of the rain hitting his body stopped, at first he thought the rain had stopped pouring but he knew it didn't as he could still hear the tapping of raindrops hitting something rubber?

He opened his left eye and his soft indigo eyes finally seeing a person standing next to him sharing their umbrella.

Usually he would grumble in annoyance or perhaps curse at the person if a stranger did this but surprisingly he did not, his eyes scanning the feature of the person next to him—finding familiarity in those [e/c] eyes of theirs and how they looked at him in concern and for a brief moment he felt warm despite the wet and cold shirt he was wearing that disgustingly stick into his skin.

He wanted to know that the stranger knew that he acknowledged their presence, “Thank you.” he softly mutters, briefly surprised by himself before eventually managing his cool.

You nodded at him as you continue to hold the umbrella between the two of you.

Isayaw mo ako, (Trans: dance with me,)

Sa gitna ng ulan mahal ko, (in the middle of the rain my love,)

Kapalit man nito'y buhay ko, (in exchange for my life,)

Gagawin ang lahat para sayo, (I would do everything for you,)

Alam kong mahal mo na rin ako. (I know that you loved me too.)

There was oddly familiarity in this scene and unknowingly both of you knew that, de ja vu perhaps?

Both of you stood so close to each to share a single umbrella, his cold wet sleeves against their own dry ones, he mutters a soft “Sorry for that.” and they just replied with “Don't worry about it.”

Scaramouche just nodded before he felt himself slowly get lost into the music again and [y/n] noticed and they just smiled, “I'll tell you when the bus comes.” and Scaramouche just nodded.

As he closed his eyes, a memory flashed into his mind.

“Archons it's starting to rain.” a familiar person says and he just rolled his eyes as he noticed their glinting [e/c] eyes staring at his hat.

“No [y/n] sweetheart, I am not going to share my hat.” he scoffed and they just whined as small pear shaped items started to form as the rain hit the green jewelry on their hip.

“Please, please, pleasee I'm starting to create bloom reactions and it doesn't hurt much but it's pretty annoying.” they whined and the harbinger just rolled their eyes, “Ugh this bitch, you're lucky I love you.” he mutters in annoyance as he urges the other to shelter under his large hat.

“I love you too, Kunikuzushi.”

His eyes snapped wide open, as his soft indigo eyes immediately landed on to the stranger next to him their hand typing away on their phone and the other holding the umbrella. He can recall that both the person in his memory and the one outside his mind are the same person. He can feel his heart thumped loudly against his ribcage.

Your eyes left your screen—[e/c] eyes against soft indigo ones.

The male can feel his mouth drying as he felt a certain longing for you, his heart arched unexplainably. Why is he reacting like this to you? A mere stranger sharing their umbrella to him.

Despite the words he just said on his mind, he knew that somehow and someway both of you knew each other, both of you were connected with one another.

He wants to say something but they might think he just lost his sanity while waiting for the bus for god knows how long and speaking of bus where the fuck is it? It's been like 2 hours already—it was actually just almost an hour.

“Is there something wrong?” you asked as you noticed the male staring at you for some time now, you didn't mind it though—actually you do mind because who wouldn't mind if an extremely attractive person was staring at you? But despite that, he somehow looks familiar, you feel your heart tugging it's strings telling you something. The way it ached as you admired his features, everything about him look so familiar as if you've met him years ago.

Archons your voice is so smooth, he noted. He swallowed the lump in his throat and you noticed how his adams apple bobbed up and down. “Sorry, I got lost in thought. I just thought that you kind of looked familiar despite just meeting for the first time.” he says, voice hoarse as he felt his heart thumped very loudly against his chest. “Sorry, I know it's weird but why do I have a feeling that I somehow knew you?”

Oh great and late barbatos, this man is so fine, you thought to your head before giving the man with a soft smile. “No worries, I get it. I've been getting that feeling when I saw you too. Like I've known you for awhile now.”

Scaramouche smiled, accidentally surprising himself the second time during that day, “My name is Kunikuzushi but usually I go by Scaramouche.” he introduces himself and you nodded, heart thumping as you heard his name—it sounds so familiar, a certain longing in your heart, an urge to just embrace him but you shook away those thoughts as you opt to smile at him, “It is a pleasure to meet you Scaramouche, my name is [y/n].”

Scaramouche's eyes widen when you said your name, warmth enveloping his body, heart thumping wildly against his ribcage. Hearing you say your own name brought so many emotions in him. He wants to hold you and never let you go again. He felt like he had lost you before but now he found you once more.

“It is also a pleasure to meet you [y/n].” he softly says and they nodded, his soft indigo eyes landed on their hand that was holding the umbrella. “Would you like it if I hold the umbrella?” he asked and the other just shake their head, “It's fine, I can handle it.” they say and Scaramouche shook his head, “Please let me, it's the least I could do.” and [y/n] sighs before gently giving the male the umbrella they were holding. Scaramouche held the umbrella and made sure both of them didn't get wet from the rain, the winds making both of them shiver. In the corner of his eye he can see the other typed away on their phone—he just looked away to respect their privacy.

A few minutes have passed and still no sign of the bus arriving.

“My friend is about to pick me up in a few minutes, do you like it if you want to hitch a ride with us?” the other spoke softly, there's just something about the two of them under the rain sharing an umbrella that feels intimate or maybe Scaramouche is going insane.

He shakes his, “Thank you for the kind offer but I prefer not to wet your friend's car seat.” he says as he gestures to his really wet clothes. The other just looked at him in guilt, “Sorry, I forgot.” they say and he chuckles, “Fret not, I can wait a few more minutes and if push comes to shove I'm gonna ask my friends to pick me up.” he says and the other just nodded, “If so, please take my umbrella. I don't want you to stay underneath the rain. It might make you sick.” they say.

“Thank you, I'll return it to you. May I perhaps ask for your number so I can schedule when I could return it and also perhaps if you want to get dinner sometime?” he asks, uncharacteristically hopeful for a mere thing as a phone number but fuck it.

Scaramouche noticed how the other's face turned a shade of red underneath the street light and he silently chuckles, not knowing with his own blush coated cheeks.

The other nodded and their hand immediately scrambled to their pockets to look for your wallet—your long and slender hands found it and began to look for a specific card.

“Aha!” you cheered softly and Scaramouche could just chuckle at your excited self, he watched as you handed him a card, his eyes scanned the letters—and it was a business card, filled with your name, number, email, social media and shop address.

He smiled before taking out his phone—you watched him type your number and see him typed and sent a message to it. Your phone dinged, you opened to see an unfamiliar number.

09×××××××××: hey, this is scaramouche.

You quickly saved it and gave the male a smile. “Let's go out for dinner next time.” you winked and it made the other blush lightly and you chuckled despite the loud beating of your heart and the warmth of your cheeks.

Somewhere around the the distance you noticed a familiar car approaching where both of you stood.

“It seems my ride is here, are you really sure don't want to give you a ride?” You asks and the other just nodded, “Yeah, I think I'll be fine.”

The car halted on where you stood and the car window slid down and to reveal a familiar Funeral Parlor Director.

“Yoohoo! What a bunch of wet kittens you two are.” the brown haired female said and you rolled your eyes at her, “Hey, Hu.” you greeted and the other just wink, “Hey,hey!” before closing the window again and the click of the car door can be heard.

You turned to look at Scaramouche, “Text me once you get home okay? And please be safe.” You say not really wanting to leave him alone in the rain.

The other just smiled, “Same as you, do text me if you got home safe.” and you nodded.

Scaramouche carefully guided you towards the car door, making sure you didn't get wet, you waved goodbye to him and he let a small wave in return.

His soft indigo eyes watched the figure of the car slowly disappears into the distance.

A few minutes later a soon saw a bus approaching where he stood and mutters underneath his breath, fucking finally.

Scaramouche was annoyed it took a goddamn sweet time to get here but it was eased up since he got to meet you.

He closed the umbrella before he boarded the bus, the conductor just giving him a side eye and he just deadpans before choosing a seat at the back.

He mindlessly scrolled through his social media before a ding can be heard and a notification appeared at the top of his screen.

[y/n] : I got home safely, how about you? Are you still waiting for the bus?

Scaramouche smiled before typing a reply.

[Scaramouche]: don't worry, the bus arrived a few minutes you guys left.

He typed and sent and another ding can be heard a few seconds later.

[y/n] : thank archons, please get home safe<3

Seeing the heart symbol made his flutter, he shook his head before typing his reply.

[Scaramouche] : I will, don't worry. I'll talk to you later<3

He typed and sent and another ding can be heard.

[y/n] : alright! Travel safe. See you later!

Scaramouche smiled before turning off his phone as he continues to listen to some music.

a/n: omg I'm so proud of this oneeee, I might make it into mini series of what the two would usually do when they hung outtt and I might try making it into a smau a little bittt. But anyways there's probably another part for this. THIS HAS BEEN BASED OFF ON SOMEONES IDEA [the one tagged]

tags: @baelloraa

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧ ─────┈⊰᯽⊱

reblogs are appreciated<3

#scaramouche genshin impact #scaramouche genshin #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin #genshin scenarios #genshin scaramouche #lxkewrites

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hisunshiine · 1 year

Text

— burning love | jhs

♨ pairing: firefighter!hobi X firefighter!reader ♨ au/genre: fire department AU, workplace au, anti-valentine’s, coworkers2lovers, fwb2l, fluff, smut, angst ♨ rating: M ♨ wc: 5,266 🜂 warnings: longtime pining, reader gets a minor injury in the line of duty, catching fire, explicit smut, fingering, handjob, shower sex, vaginal penetration, oral (m receiving), multiple orgasms, cuddling ♨ an: thank you to @downbad4yoongi and @ressjeon for beta reading, and to @colormepurplex2 for storyboarding last night! this fic has a small bit of self-indulgence in celebration of @peachiilovesot7‘s birthday, which she shares with our birthday man, Hobi! i wanted to post this yesterday, but unfortunately, due to circumstances outside of my control, it’s only a day late. i hope you enjoy!

Rolling out of the bed, you glance at your phone to see it’s just past 5:30am. Silencing the alarm that had been blaring for the past few minutes, you stretch before tiptoeing your way through Hoseok’s room. Once in his bathroom, you eyeball the marks he left.

You know that Hoseok likes you, hell, you know that he wants more out of this ‘friends with benefits’ deal the two of you have worked out, but you just can’t bring yourself to be in a relationship. As coworkers in a dangerous field, you think it best to keep the distance you have, seeking out one another for sex.

The only issue is that you tend to seek him out daily. The two of you work the same shift, and spend time together off the clock as well. You practically live at each other’s apartments, and according to your friends, you act like an old married couple. Except you refuse to acknowledge the feelings you’ve grown for him, and he for you.

Climbing into his shower, you reach for your bathing items that he’s set aside in their own designated spot and while the action warms your heart, it also makes you nervous that you’re becoming too comfortable carving out a space in his life that’s meant for a girlfriend. After showering, you grab your toothbrush placed next to his at the sink, and notice after the fact when you go to hang up your wet towel back where you procured it from that Hoseok recently added a hook to the wall next to his towel for yours.

It’s all a little too much, especially today. February 13th. The day before the day you hate. All of these things are just a reminder that maybe you’re too involved with Hoseok, and that despite not having discussed it, he may start to expect something you aren’t ready to give to him tomorrow. You finish getting ready in a silent panic, noting that Hoseok is still sleeping peacefully as you leave early for work.

Arriving at the two story building, you smile as the rising sun glances off the upper glass windows of your workplace. The bright red number seven showcases that you work at the best station in the district. Station 7 is your pride and joy, and as you open the door to enter, it’s a day like any other. Of course, today is a Monday, which means the station will be filming their weekly segment for the news, and with it being National Heart Month, the focus for the day is on ‘How to Keep a Heart Beating (with CPR)’.

As an anti-Valentine’s Day person, you find it a little cheesy that your coworkers want to decorate the station for Valentine’s Day tomorrow, as you’d much rather have a nice taco spread for Taco Tuesday, but your idea was vetoed at the monthly station meeting last month. So imagine your surprise when you walk in and see a lack of red and pink hearts decorating the front reception area.

Park Jimin, one of your closest friends, yawns from where he sits at the desk, covering his mouth before offering you a lazy wave.

“Morning, Sunshine.”

You look around the room, trying to find who Jimin is calling ‘Sunshine’.

“I don’t see Hoseok anywhere,” you announce after concluding it’s just the two of you in the intake area.

“Ha-ha, you are so funny this early,” Jimin says with a glare of his eyes. “But why am I not surprised that Hoseok is the first thing on your mind?”

Dropping your backpack onto the counter, it’s now your turn to glare at him.

“Shut up. We’re just fuck buddies.” You hide your face by unzipping your bag and pretending to look for something.

“Does he know that?” Jimin questions, and you break your defense to look up at him puzzled.

“Um, pretty sure he does, seeing as he literally was just pounding into me a couple of hours ago.”

“Sweetheart, while I typically love the details of your sex life, you know that the emphasis was on the ‘just’ part of the sentence. ‘Does Hoseok know that you two are just fuck buddies?’”

“He hasn’t ever said he wants more from me, so…just leave it, Jimin.”

“Hmm…touchy. Are you maybe…upset that he hasn’t expressed wanting more?”

Once again you dig in your bag, wishing you had just said good morning back and not engaged in this conversation.

“What? No, pshh, I told him when it started that we wouldn’t be more.”

Jimin sighs, leaning back and running a hand through his hair.

“Idiot.”

You throw the first thing you grab in your backpack—your deodorant— at him. “I meant that in the most loving way!”

“I’m going upstairs to put away my belongings. You’re off at 9am, right?”

“Yup, and then the next two days I’m off. Just in time for Valentine’s Day.”

“Oooh, hot plans with Theresa?” you ask over your shoulder as you begin climbing the stairs.

“She planned a surprise for me, you know Valentine’s is about the woman doing something for the man.” Jimin says with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Yeah, yeah, and next month for White Day, it’ll be your turn.” The stairs turn once you reach the first platform, so now you can look down into the desk area and the top of Jimin’s head. He looks up at you with a smirk as he tosses your deodorant up to you.

“And if you don’t make a move tomorrow, you’ll be eating black jjajangmyeon in your black sweatpants the month after like the single loser you are!”

Stomping the rest of the way into the firefighter’s dormitory, you notice that two beds are occupied. Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook are two regulars who work the same 6-day shift as you. Today just so happens to be your first day back from your rest period, so the three of you and Hoseok, will be doing the day shift from 9am to 6pm today and tomorrow.

“You guys slept here last night?” you ask, sitting on the bed across from Taehyung. You’re already dressed in your uniform, but still have a little under an hour until your shift starts so you put away the small deodorant canister and get comfortable.

“Yeah, we covered for Sammi and Vanessa. They were supposed to be on call for the One-Stop Support Center for residential fire fighting devices, but apparently they needed to prepare for tomorrow.”

“Why couldn’t they prepare today?”

“Oh, trust me, our doting, pregnant fiances have spent the past few days whispering and plotting away.”

You laugh at the image Taehyung paints of their significant others. Sammi, his fiance, is four months pregnant and works in the Control Center of the station with Jungkook’s fiance, Vanessa, who is also five months along. The two are often seen together giggling and chatting, and much like Hoseok, are rays of sunshine in the office.

“I bet it was boring being on call for the Support Center.” You make conversation as the two get up and begin shrugging on their field uniforms over their tank tops and athletic shorts.

“We had maybe three calls the entire time, and we were home until the last call came and it was this elderly man, he needed installation support at his shop. He runs a bakery and was about to start the ovens when he noticed that his gas detector wasn’t lit up. So at 4am, I’m in a deep sleep cuddling my babe, when the phone wakes us up and we have to stop here and get a new HKA-800 to install.” Jungkook sighs as if the elderly baker ruined his night.

“I hate installing gas leakage alarms,” Taehyung sighs. “They’re always in hard to reach spots, and I would’ve rather stayed in bed to be honest.”

“I feel like they knew a call was going to come in at that time…they’ve never swapped on call shifts with us before.” Jungkook muses.

“So, which of you pretty boys is filming today?”

“I am!”

You turn to the doorway of the dormitory and see Jung Hoseok enter with his duffel bag on his shoulder. He looks stunning as usual, black hair styled effortlessly to frame his face. He’s fully dressed in his field uniform, reflective vest situated over his lithe frame and you kind of hate how all of his clothing hides the marks you left last night, unable to show that he belongs to you, even if you tell yourself he’s only yours when the two of you are alone.

“I’m surprised Hobi, the whole place isn’t covered in candy hearts or red and pink decorations,” you tease. “I thought you would have wanted it to be all pretty for airing.”

Hoseok’s face makes a surprising change to irritation.

“When would I have had time last night to decorate?” He says with a raised eyebrow at you, alluding to your activities that kept him busy. “Besides, the Fire Chief didn’t give the approval until this morning! I saw the email when I woke up. I’ve got all of the supplies right here in my bag.”

“Oh no, you better watch out, Hobi, you know Sunshine over here hates Valentine’s Day.”

You roll your eyes, laying back onto the pillow and feigning disinterest.

“I just don’t understand why women have to declare their feelings first and then wait a whole month to have them reciprocated. What if you break up during the month between?”

Jimin trudges into the room, flopping onto a free mattress. Glancing at the clock, you see it’s ten till nine, and figure his replacement must’ve just arrived.

“Sammi is too pregnant to leave me, she wouldn’t make it five minutes down the road before calling me crying from the car to say she misses me. She would turn around and be back in my arms. Plus, Jaykay and I have already planned our White Day surprise for them. They have no need to worry.”

“If only we all could be so lucky to date best friends, get engaged, and pregnant all within a couple months of each other.”

“I mean, if you would—”

“Park Jimin, you shut your mouth right now!” You effectively cut him off as his eyes land on you, full of mirth. You wish looks can kill—Jimin would be frying under your burning gaze.

“Well, I’m going to start putting up the hearts now!”

Hobi begins to unzip his bag but jumps when the siren begins to sound.

Jumping out of the bed, you grab your vest from your bag, and the four of you hustle down to the trucks. 120 cases of fire are called into dispatch every 12 minutes across the country, and the life of a firefighter is always a race against time.

Valentine’s day is just another day to you, in fact, it’s your second day shift in a row, leaving you with ample time to celebrate, if you were the type. Yesterday was busy, which is unsurprising—the day before Valentine’s day many women are baking sweets and chocolates for the person who has caught their affection, and the stress of making the perfect treat often leads to a level of carelessness not usually seen. Eleven small kitchen fires took up the whole shift, and Hoseok was unable to film his CPR news clip or decorate the station.

The next morning, Hoseok is ready to turn your workplace into a Valentine’s Day extravaganza. As you approach the main door, you see window clings in the shape of hearts and cute phrases plastered against the glass.

Walking in, you see candy hearts attached to red yarn strung along the edge of the reception counter. Behind the desk, Hoseok stands on a ladder, hanging up red balloon letters that spell out L-O-V-E.

Unable to hold back a groan, you cause Hoseok to teeter dangerously as he realizes he’s not alone.

“Morning, babe!” Kim Seokjin greets cheerily from where he’s supposed to be holding said ladder, but you look around dejectedly.

“Damn it, Chief Kim really vetoed my Taco Tuesday idea?”

“Tacos?” Jungkook appears from the back room behind the reception desk, eating a bowl of cereal.

“Yeah, I thought maybe he would decide to order us tacos for Taco Tuesday.”

“It’s only 8:30, sunshine. Maybe it’ll be here at lunch time.”

“Good thinking, Kookie! So, let’s hope today is less busy than yesterday, so we can leave on time and you and Taehyung can enjoy your surprise.”

“I am begging. Tomorrow we work the night shift, so I’ll have plenty of time to sleep in. Do you have any plans?”

“Nothing planned, no. You know I don’t do Valentine’s Day.”

You miss the way Hoseok’s face falls as he turns back to the task at hand.

“Ah, yes, one day you will find someone, and maybe you won’t hate Valentine’s Day so much.”

“Maybe when pigs fly.”

You can’t lie though, Hoseok has the reception area looking festive in a non-cheesy way; you actually don’t want to vomit at the sight of it. Luckily, he isn’t able to make it far into the building with his bag of ornaments and tinsel, and the sound of the alarm going off halts his efforts once again.

“This is bullshit,” he huffs under his breath, but you hear him anyway as you walk side by side to the truck.

Valentine’s Day is really not your day. The first call of the morning sent you out to a residential area where a wild boar wandered into. Being chased by a wild boar before you even have a chance to stretch is not your idea of fun, but the guys were able to herd it back to where it came thanks to your sprint.

Back at the station, Fire Chief Kim Namjoon greets you in the hallway, and when you ask about tacos for lunch, he apologizes.

“I’m sorry, it slipped my mind. In order to feed everyone on staff, we would need to put in the order ahead of time, there’s too many departments. How about next Tuesday?” he offers, buff arm rubbing the back of his neck in guilt. You can’t stay mad at his dimples, so you let him off the hook, saying next week will be fine.

It’s not, not really, but you aren’t the type to say no to free food. You had just hoped to have something else to take your mind off of Valentine's Day. Especially with your crush/fuck buddy walking around the station in his perfectly fit uniform decorating the windows with hearts and talking about how much he loves today.

The only reprieve is that today is just as busy, and the window clings are as far as Hoseok gets before the alarm rings loudly, sending your group running once again. This time, it’s a fire, but not as small as the baking incidents yesterday. This one requires full gear and an extra truck from a neighboring station. And when Hoseok disappears back inside the building with Jungkook to locate a tearful child’s missing pet cat, you find yourself antsy to reach him.

Five minutes later, Jungkook comes stumbling out, saying that the smoke was too thick on the path he took to the left, but the right hallway Hoseok took should be easier to navigate since the fire started on his side.

Pacing as you wait for Hoseok to show, you can’t help the fear growing if he weren’t to return. You knew it was your own self-sabotage that kept this thing with Hoseok from turning into something more. You have had your heart broken in the past; you put in more effort to a man who did not deserve it and it backfired on you. Growing up you were raised to feel that it was safe for you to share your love with others, but now it just felt safer to keep Hoseok at arms length.

Still not seeing Hoseok return, you now know that you would have rather explored the feelings he brings out of you and let it turn into a burning flame than to lose him in one. There’s a reason why Sammi and Vanessa no longer fight fires with their significant others. Long before either was with child, the two switched to dispatch services, because of the warnings of the dangers of loving your firefighting partner.

Breaking all types of protocol, you run into the building and find Hoseok appearing through the heavy smoke with the cat in his arms, and a sigh of relief spreads through your body. This pause to take him in, inspect him for damages while still being inside a burning building is exactly why you shouldn’t have run inside.

A wooden beam, brittle from the flames eating away at its hold, crumbles to the ground around you. Hoseok, arms full with the fluffy pet and voice covered by the roar of the flames, is unable to do anything but watch as you fall to the ground, semi-pinned under the remnants of the beam.

Sprinting, he has a clear enough mind to leave you behind to get the cat to safety before returning with help from Taehyung less than a minute later. The two are able to lift the wood off of your leg, and Hoseok carries you from the building, now empty of residents and their pets. The other station takes over dousing the flames as a second station arrives to help, and with orders from the Fire Chief, your unit brings you back to the station.

You’re not that hurt, no broken bones, just a minor sprain and first degree burns where the beam lay on your leg. Luckily your protective gear prevented worse damage from occurring had you been in civilian clothing and in the infirmary at Station 7, you sit under the watchful eyes of your Fire Captain and Lead Aid Car Specialist, Min Yoongi.

“Please explain to me why I have to do a write up for Chief Kim explaining that you broke protocol and ended up injured.”

“I’m sorry Yoongi-Op—Captain Min.”

Your older brother glares at you.

“I promised Eomma that you would not get hurt under my watch. Luckily, I wasn’t there or I would’ve dragged you back myself.”

“I know. I wasn’t thinking, Yoongi. Hobi had just been in there for so long and Jungkook had already returned, and the flames were getting worse, so I just—”

“You just forgot your duty as a firefighter, and I think it’s time you tell him how you feel, Sunshine. In the meantime, you’re grounded.”

“What? But—”

“You had a beam fall on you in a burning building, leaving you with first degree burns—lowkey second degree—on your leg! You aren’t going out on any more calls until you’re cleared.”

Of course, before your brother can finish treating your wounds, the alarm is already calling away Hoseok, Jungkook, and Taehyung. This time, it’s a small incident with bees swarming a preschool’s playground area. You know Hoseok hates bugs, but with only three members of the team available, he has to go.

Seokjin strolls into the infirmary just as Yoongi bandages the last piece of gauze around your burn, and you prepare yourself for a stern talking to.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, sunshine. And you almost died trying to search for the man you deny having feelings for. I think it’s time to do something about this crush, don’t you think?”

Well, that was unexpected. When did everyone learn your true feelings?

“You’re not subtle in the slightest.” Seokjin shares, reading the look on your face. “Neither is he. You both like each other, so stop being stubborn.”

“Valentine’s Day is almost over, Seokjin. Even if I wanted to do something, I’m injured and there’s no time.”

Seokjin’s face morphs into determination.

“Hobi is the easiest man to please. You should know, he likes you, doesn’t he?”

“Rude!”

“I’m just pointing out the obvious. So let’s think, what has he wanted to do this whole time?”

“Decorate the office to celebrate Valentine’s Day.”

“So what do you think would be a good way of showing him you care, and making yourself ineligible to participate in Black Day in a couple of months?”

“I…” you pause as if thinking about what you could do, but you already know the answer, “I can use his decorations and finish what he started. Maybe cave, and celebrate Valentine’s Day for once.”

“I knew you were smart and Hobi had to like you for a reason.”

“I’m also really good with my—”

“Really don’t want to know what you’re good at doing to my best friend!” Yoongi cuts you off, placing a cold compress to the wound.

“Alrighty!” Seokjin claps, “Moving on, so what are you going to have prepared when he asks to stay with you tonight, which we know he’s going to do, because he wants to take care of you.”

“Surprise him with tacos for Taco Tuesday and some bomb ass sex,” you say with a smile, happy to fulfill your own wish as well

“Sounds like a great plan. Though you may want to just accept the sex will be mid until your injury heals.”

“Alright, so this is all a great plan, but, small problem. I’m stuck here under medical watch until I get off! Who can help decorate my apartment?”

“Don’t be dense, Sunshine. I already texted the pregnant ones. They’re off today and done setting up for Tae and Jaykay, and they’re on their way to your place now. Text them your keycode so they can get in.”

“Why would they help me? They’re pregnant! And have their own things to prepare for!”

“Because, sweetie, we love you and we love Hoseok and we’ve had a bet going for ages that we’d love to have settled.”

You frown at his words, but understand. You love all of your coworkers too, trust them with your life—literally—and the fact that everyone has been rooting for you and Hoseok to work out thaws your frozen Valentine’s Day heart.

When your crew arrives back from the playground relocating the bees, you watch as Hoseok’s face breaks out into a blinding smile.

“Wow! You guys really did all of this?”

Seokjin is sitting at the reception desk with you and he nods his head in your direction.

“It was Sunshine’s idea.”

Hoseok turns wide eyes to you, and you think you see a little hope in them. Part of you knew that Hoseok always wanted more, but the other part of you doubted he could actually see you as his girlfriend. In the past, the guy who broke your heart couldn’t see you as his girlfriend despite you doting on him as if you were his wife, which is what led to your walls being so high. But thanks to your friends and the incident today, you realize that Hoseok is someone you can trust with your heart. You already trust him with your life.

“I thought it was the least I could do, I know you really wanted to celebrate Valentine’s Day.”

Coming around the desk, he kneels in front of you being mindful of your propped up leg.

“Thank you, Sunshine. I really appreciate you doing this for me.”

You can’t hold back your smile, and he pulls you into a hug. He’s warm, and you melt in his embrace as Seokjin pretends to wipe back happy tears as he watches the two of you.

“Sunshine, I’m sure you want to go home, but I still have to record the heart health clip, and then we’ll head to your place, okay?”

“No worries, Hobi, Seokjin and I took care of that for you too. And we made sure to showcase all of your decorations.”

If he could physically do it, Hoseok would be staring heart eyes at you. Even without transforming the shape of his eyes, you see more than the hope from earlier in them; there’s gratitude for making his very long day easier, and something else you aren’t sure if you can put into words.

“I’ll be right back.” Hoseok sprints from the reception area and up the stairs, returning only a few moments later with his duffel bag hanging to his side. Grasping your backpack from the counter, he threads his arms through the straps before bending his knees and reaching for you. Lifting you up bridal style, you laugh as he walks you out the glass doors, enjoying the smile adorned on his face.

Hoseok refuses to let you walk once at your place, carrying you from the car to your second floor apartment with ease. You were already showered from being on medical leave for the day, but as Hoseok types in the code to your door, he promises to shower fast so as not to leave you alone for long.

The words fade from his lips as he crosses the threshold with you in his arms, the sight of your apartment decorated romantically for the holiday shocking him silent. You thank your coworkers silently for their efforts, before tucking your face into Hoseok’s neck.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hobi.” Your voice is low, but he hears you, and his spine shivers when you press a kiss to his neck.

He’s still silent, but you can feel his heart racing as he looks down at you in his arms.

“Shower with me.”

You nod, and he rushes to your bathroom, setting you down on the closed toilet lid so he can strip down, and you do the same, standing up gently once naked with your hand balancing you on the sink. Opening the glass shower door, he turns the tap on to a medium level due to your injury. Your brother said you were okay to shower, you just had to make sure to redress the wound and he would bring your antibiotics by tomorrow after he picked them up from the pharmacy.

Hoseok tugs you towards him lightly as you follow him gingerly into the warm water. The two of you silently wash each other, being gentle around sensitive areas. Once clean, he pulls you to his chest and into a hug you didn’t realize you needed. Being in his arms like this after today’s events, it finally hits you. You love this man. You feel your eyes start to water, sniffling, and he looks at you closely.

“What’s wrong, does your leg hurt, baby?” the pet name slips out.

“No, it’s fine. I just—” you take a deep breath before looking into his pretty brown eyes. “I think I have some really big feelings for you, and I was so worried about you earlier, if something had happened to you…”

“Nothing happened, Sunshine. I’ll always make my way back to you, you know that.”

“You better.”

He leans down and kisses you, soft, heart-shaped lips calming the storm in your mind.

“I will, baby.”

You pull him by his neck back to you, this time deepening the kiss as his hands begin to explore you. You feel his fingers slip between your thighs, spreading you open and entering you without wasting any time. Gasping into the kiss, you reach for him, feeling his semi-firm cock harden as you begin to stroke him. The water helps with your speed, and the two of you twirl your tongues together as you match pace.

“I need more, baby,” you pant, and Hoseok removes his fingers from where your walls have gripped him, reaching for the backs of your thighs to lift you up. Putting your back to the wall opposite the faucet, you squeal from the cold tile along your spine. Hoseok just chuckles while angling his now fully erect member at your opening, pushing himself inside slowly so he can savor every ridge of your pulsing walls.

Thrusting into you, his mouth decorates your skin with blooming maroon marks until you cry out in satisfaction as he makes you cum. The angle he holds you in is perfect for kissing your g-spot with the tip of his cock, and your skin tingles as your nerves react to the climax. Sliding out of his hold, he grunts when you push him where you had just been pinned, using his body to help you glide to your knees, careful of your shin injury.

Taking Hoseok into your mouth, you rival the loud sounds of the shower as you lewdly suck and slurp your essence off of his cock as his hands firmly hold the sides of your head. You look up at him as you press your nose to his taut abs, eyes wet with unshed tears as you breathe through your nose to gather enough to pause and swallow around him as you grip his thighs. You can tell when he’s at his breaking point, the pads of his fingers dragging along your scalp as his muscles tense and you bob with sucked in cheeks and flicks to his frenulum until he’s spilling his warm cum down your throat.

Hoseok grasps you under your arms and pulls you to him, kissing you hard.

“Fuck, Sunshine,” his nose drags softly along yours in an eskimo kiss. “I think I—”

The sound of your doorbell chiming through the apartment reaches your ears, having installed a small speaker in the bathroom and bedroom so that you never miss a delivery.

The two of you giggle as you decide who will get the door, but Hoseok, ever the gentleman, grabs a towel and your robe. You spend a few extra moments cleaning between your thighs before turning off the water and following Hoseok out of the bathroom.

Catching sight of him in the hallway, he’s walking a delivery bag from your favorite taco restaurant in Seoul to your kitchen counter. Stepping over the rose petals littered along the hallway, you join him.

“You even got us tacos?” he asks in awe, adoration lacing his tone.

“Of course, I did, it’s taco Tuesday and Valentine’s Day, and I just wanted to show you how I feel about you.” It feels good to admit it.

Turning away from the unopened bag, Hoseok picks you up again, carrying you to your bedroom.

This time, he makes love to you slowly, his hips rolling in that magical way he does, fingers laced with yours by your head as your bodies fit together deliciously. Your eyes never leave his, both of you staring deeply at each other as you rock in tandem. Feeling him all over you, reaching the deepest parts of you, you cry out as tears roll down your cheeks in pleasure.

“F-fuck Hobi, I’m so close,” you whimper, hands squeezing his tightly as the pressure builds.

“Give your all to me, Sunshine,” he begs, and you know he isn’t just asking for your orgasm.

“It’s yours, Hobi,” you admit, “I’m yours.”

Your words encourage him as he picks up speed and depth until you release together.

Cuddling into his arms, you turn your lips to his chin, placing tender kisses to his smooth skin.

“I love you, Hoseok.”

In the quiet of your room, it’s as if a roaring fire fills your ears as you wait to see if he’ll extinguish the worry that begins to spread—

“I love you too, Sunshine, have for a while.”

He tilts his head so he can return kisses to your lips before your bodies align once again to create a friction of burning love that blooms bright enough to consume you.

thank you for reading! reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

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