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verryberriess · 3 years

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Whatever This Is | Chapter 1

READ PROLOGUE HERE!!

Whatever This Is

Synopsis: In which Jude and Cardan meet again after seven years, but not on good terms.

thanks to @maastrash for helping me edit LOL!!!! :D

CHAPTER ONE

The last time I saw Cardan Greenbriar was seven years ago.

Today, seven years later, we were a mere few feet apart. I’m unsure whether to feel relieved or insulted at his lack of acknowledgement. Relieved that maybe he has forgotten my face and I could continue along with my life, undeterred and unaffected as ever. But insulted, because, maybe he has forgotten me.

“Are you ready to order?” The cashier startles me. I didn’t realize that the line had suddenly quickened in pace. He must be new, since I haven’t seen him around the Torre’s until today.

Thankfully, I respond with my usual order without thinking. The cashier nods and I fumble my purse in search of my wallet. I’m able to quickly spot my cyan-colored wallet and unbutton its strap with haste, fishing for my credit card from the compartment with my nail. The card is stubborn, in a tight space stuck to two other cards.

“Sorry,” I look up and flash the cashier a tight smile, embarrassment coloring my features.

The cashier responds in turn, his green eyes alight in amusement. “It’s alright. That happens to me all the time.”

I immediately return to the war against my card, which finally relents. I slam it into the card reader, chip in first. While the payment approves, I smile and say, “Thanks for your patience,“ peering down at his name tag to add, “Beckett.” He is handsome and new, and on another day I would try to get to know him, but I am in a hurry, so I walk from the bounds of the register and head straight towards the door outside.

The door swings open in response to my adrenaline and haste. I curse inwardly at the crowd outside of Torre’s that seems to have gotten even bigger. As I mutter “Excuse me’s” and sidestep around the large number of people, I inspect the streets for an absurdly tall head of iridescent midnight hair. I am quickly astonished to see that exact head right in the middle of the large crowd, showering the thrall of excited women with a crooked smile.

Cardan stands in the middle. While he keeps his hands at his sides, his posture is loose and his torso leans in to angle himself for a selfie with another woman. The woman presses her back into Cardan’s again. He doesn’t seem bothered by this at all.

I zero in on the changes in his features. He has gotten taller, his face more angular. His style has been perfected, dressed in a dark suit and decorated in gold rings and darks and blacks while the midnight black hair atop his head seems unruly and untamed, as if on purpose. All these years and he seems to have perfected perfection, looking more horrifically beautiful than ever. I have forgotten this obtrusive charm I had once been fooled by, and even after all these years I am disgusted at myself for still being reigned in, captivated.

But all of a sudden, for a few seconds, he turns his head away from his surroundings and regards me with his eyes, looking as if he were noting my presence with the same disgust, and then quickly looking away. The exchange was so quick, I had barely registered it.

Yet, as I stand at the outskirts of this group, I am reminded of the past, and how I have gotten over this already. I have replayed scenario after scenario of reunions in my head after the first few months of my departure, but I had never really anticipated some overly-large crowd separating Cardan Greenbriar and I by just a few feet.

A few feet that might as well be an ocean. Or two.

I can’t help but marvel at how we were once more than acquainted with each other. That look had reminded me that everything is over, that he wants nothing to do with me. Seven years could be more, if I refocused myself. I could do that, I reminded myself. Seven years could turn into forever.

A twinge of sorrow worms its way into my gut. I squash it.

I turn around. My coffee must be done by now and I want to head to work before I’m late. I suppose the sidewalk will take some weaving around and being late was not on my agenda.

My steps are forward. I make my way back to the door of Torre’s, pulling open the door to step in.

But a familiar voice, ringed with the same distinct tone of arrogance and authority that I haven’t heard in years, ceases any of my movements.

“You need to back up.”

My grip at the handle falters, and another person shuffles out on the other side. They thank me for holding the door for them.

Instead of responding, I turn back around and face the direction of where the voice had called. The atmosphere feels almost different. Where the women had once been gathered around him, they now stand at a distance, clearing for the space he had requested.

I watch one of them snap a quick selfie while he is in her background. She leaves the group right afterwards. My eyes move back to where Cardan is, but he is walking towards my direction, uncaring of the people around him.

I pull the door handle hurriedly and slip inside into the safety of Torre’s. The chatter and ambiance of the coffeehouse usually offer safe haven from San Francisco’s morning bustles, but not today.

I could feel his looming presence right behind me, about to catch up to my stride. I’m not about to do this right now. I don’t think I can.

The choice is ripped away from me, however, when a gentle grip takes hold of my wrist.

“Jude?” The voice is soft, a complete one-eighty from that of authority outside.

I still immediately. I first turn to check the surroundings, discovering that none of the women from outside have followed him in. Then, I glance at the hand which still grips my wrist. I try to shake it off. Cardan’s hold is firm, but he reluctantly lets go. He removes himself slowly as if he is unsure whether or not he should.

Taking a step away, he stands and shifts awkwardly. He is too tall now, absurdly towering over me. Where he used to be only about an inch taller, he is now a few inches above my height. He is no longer able to slouch against me without adjusting himself as easily anymore.

The distance between us is off-putting. Though traits like his height and broadness separate us physically from our past selves, it is the other changes in our approaches and personalities that further highlight the obnoxious tension between us.

Why he suddenly acknowledges my presence is a mystery to me. Why he is here astonishes me. I am unsure if fate is cruel enough to have forced us to meet in this kind of circumstance, or if this was a making of pure coincidence.

Cardan stares at me with some deep intensity. I want to be rid of his scathing stare, grab my coffee, and disappear from this whole ordeal. Pretend that this stain of an encounter had not been inked upon seven years of spotless script.

“Cardan,” I say stiffly. Once acquainted, but now strangers. I am hesitant to say more, despite all the questions that rage within my mind and my wickedly cursed heart. Everything about this is full of uncertainty and unpredictability. A type of situation that I am not entirely familiarized with, since plans and strategy have always ruled my life. It is frustratingly tiresome.

Cardan eyes the row of occupied couches, and later the arrangement of empty rustic tables and chairs. He gestures out to the seats, “Why don’t we find a seat? I imagine that we have much to catch up on.”

I secretly consider his offer, but my brain votes to think of ways to escape his reach. Before I can make a decision though, I am led away to an open table. I am reluctant to make this encounter any longer than it should be, but I decide that I should at least gain some reasoning for his recent presence.

“I’m glad you’re so eager to see me again. After all, it’s been so long.” Cardan resumes his usual nonchalant character. “What an extraordinary coincidence running into you here.”

For a moment, I remark on his wording. I am glad that this turned out to be an occasion of pure coincidence.

Concern or indifference? I decided on the latter tone to respond with. “Yes, it certainly has been a while. But considering how we left things, I’m surprised that you even want to be near me.”

He raises an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth lift slightly. “Considering how we’ve left things, I’m surprised you’ve let me into your vicinity.” It doesn’t look like it, but the small twinges in expression reveal that he is thinking of what to say next. I am about to retort back, but what he asks next catches me off guard as he continues, softly, “Why did you leave for so long?”

My cheeks heat. At this, I am suddenly hyper aware of how close he is, of his overwhelming heat despite the violent cold that rages outside, and how he almost whispers his question, with a compelling mix of rasp and seduction. He towers over me, as if using his height to shield me from the world like he has done so many times those years ago, but in this instance, it feels as though he is also looking for something. Cardan is cautious though, leaving room for retreat.

If I am not careful myself, I imagine that I would fall into his chest, and take advantage of the closeness that I had secretly yearned for nearly a decade. Seven years be damned, my focused mentality would dissolve into dust.

I announce my resolve by taking a step back. The distance between him and I is lengthened. Although my heart curses at me, my mind is indiscriminate. I hadn’t expected this conversation to go about this way. Though, I also didn’t know what to expect. Everything was unpredictable at this point and many things have changed. I didn’t know what response he wanted, because he should’ve known why I left.

“... Because of you.” I say gruffly. I leave little context, wanting him to fill in the blanks.

For a second, a mixture of hurt and surprise leaks into his expression before it is masked again. In that second I can’t help but relish in a small sense of satisfaction that I had got to him. Hurt for hurt. An eye for an eye. Whatever game he is trying to play at this time will not rouse a fraction of feeling from me. Not again.

“I see.” Again, Cardan contemplates. He does not show anything, but his eyes start to roam around us, like he is taking in the coffeehouse setting again as if he wasn’t just here only a few moments ago.

“Excuse me?” The green-eyed cashier from before stands in front of us.

He looks between Cardan and I. Cardan, in turn, twists to the direction of the abrupt voice, and slowly assesses his form. I watch his eyes trail up and down the cashier’s physique, his face contorting in judgement before glaring at him, clearly annoyed by his abrupt intrusion.

Beckett turns to me instead, smiling brightly. His dimples deepen and his white teeth flash to me. He holds out a branded cup of Torre’s. “Hey, Jude right? We called out your name earlier, but I don’t think you heard us. I thought I’d bring your coffee to you before it got cold.”

“Thanks so much, I almost forgot.” I take the cup from him and gently set it down at our table.

“Of course.” Beckett still hovers over us, his attention only towards me. “Andrea told me you were a regular here. I should have known.”

“Yes, I come here often. But it’s okay, I noticed that you’re new here too. And it’s Beckett right?” I ask.

Beckett replies, “Yeah, it’s actually my second day.”

Beckett hovers over us. I notice that he is handsome, with close-cropped blonde hair that is slightly grown out. His green eyes twinkle as he observes me in return. He is well-muscled and tan from what I could see of his arms, which are mostly covered by his gray, long-sleeved uniform.

I take a quick glance at Cardan. His fingers tap the tabletop in a particular rhythm as he watches the exchange between Beckett and I.

“Well, I better get back to work now. If you need anything else, check your cup.” Beckett smiles again and walks away.

I look back at the coffee cup and peer at Cardan who eyes its side, a murderous expression set upon his facial features. His eyes are cold and his jaw is clenched.

As I take the cup in my hands, I inspect the sticker attached to the side of the cup. A phone number written in scrawly blue ink is scribbled onto the light orange sticker.

“I didn’t realize hand-serving customers was a part of the job description.” Cardan remarks icily.

“Well,” I clear my throat. “At least he’s done something you didn't have the balls to do seven years ago.”

A/N: i haven't been here in a while... hello! let me know if you want to be put on the tag list lOL

#jurdan #jurdan fanfiction #jurdan fanfic #judexcardan #judeduarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #the folk of the air #tfota fanfic #tfota #verryberriess #jude x cardan #twk #tcp fic

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coldmilkcreamery · 3 years

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𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟

~ 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 ~

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: xiao dejun x male reader 💋

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2965

𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: following a heart-wrenching break up with xiaojun, you leave the country—and reunite with him 8 years later at the grand opening of a friend's restaurant.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴/𝘀: smut hahah lmao

𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗯𝘆 ⭐️

𝗮/𝗻: this might be my favorite (and longest 😅😅) story out of all the ones i’ve written, like idk if it’s because xiaojun’s my bias in wayv but i really enjoyed writing it and am really proud of how it turned out hahaha, i put my blood sweat and tears into this story so i hope you guys enjoy 🥺🥺and happy valentines to you all and hbd to who is also my first bias, jaehyun haha have a great day and a great valentines <3

> 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 <

Outside, the sun has dipped below the horizon and behind wisps of clouds and falling snow, the sky has turned dark. Compounds of snow and bits of ice lie on the streets and dress stoplights as you wait at the entrance of a newly opened restaurant in town.

A miniature landscape greets you at the entrance. Artificial river water ricochets off of artificial rocks, onto the chiseled marble paths that you step over on your way to the dining area.

You make glances around the restaurant. Crowds of people are cobbled together, flowing like river water around tables and floral displays. Looking around, a familiar face emerges from the congested crowd.

“You seem to have gotten quite popular.” You tap on the hem of Doyoung’s blazer, looking around the crowded facade of the restaurant.

“You made it!” Doyoung says. Like a jack-in-the-box, he springs out of the crowd, jumping onto you and engulfing you in a tight embrace.

“I am very much here.” You reply, muffled by the confines of his arms.

“My god, I haven’t seen you in years!” He squeals, tightening his grip around your torso. “You’ve aged. A lot.” He snickers, crimping his face into a faux scowl.

“You're not looking any younger yourself.” You spit back with squinted eyes.

“Still bitchy as ever.” Doyoung pats your head, lips forming a snarky grin. “Come in.”

“How did you get here so early? Weren’t you set to fly in about a week later from now?” He eagerly questions, excitement very much visible through his puffing chest and eye-squinting smile.

“Simple, I booked an earlier flight.”

“And lost my first class seat.” You seethe, holding up your economy class boarding pass.

“You’re the best.” Doyoung giggles.

“I really am.” You gripe, narrowing your eyes. “New York is one far place.”

“You’re one to hold grudges aren’t you.” He pats your back with one hand, prying the boarding pass from your finger’s grasp with the other before tossing it into a nearby trash bin.

“Follow me.” Doyoung grabs your wrist and he escorts you into one of the private rooms, briefly passing by the reception desk. “This is Karina, one of my staff.”

“Hi!” She waves.

“Where are we going?” You question as he pulls you towards the first sliding door from the right of the reception desk.

“Those rooms over there are the rooms for the VIP reservations.” Karina says.

“VIP?” You ask, shooting them an amused expression.

“I have a heart my guy, I didn’t cost you your business class upgrade for nothing.” He ruffles your hair.

“First class.” You scornfully correct Doyoung, squinting your eyes at him, pushing his hands off of your head.

“Have a seat.” He reaches his palm out to point to the cushions resting on the floor and the recessed floor in front of it.

You slip your legs into the recession, eyeing a few floral vases and intricately patterned stems of miniature cherry blossom trees.

“Seems like you really went all out on decors.” You slip your phone out of the pocket at the sides of your chinos that are in the light’s path, which shine olive green against the moonlight. “Selfie?”

“My dining area should look just as good as my food tastes.” Doyoung obnoxiously chuckles before smiling into your camera.

“1, 2, 3.” You say in unison.

“Aren’t those at least a hundred dollars each?” You raise a brow at him, resting your phone beside your plate after a click sounds from it. “Is that not expensive for you?”

“Not if they look this good.” Doyoung winks.

“Good lord.”

“Oh, uhh, by the way.” He whispers, sounding much more subdued than he had been the minutes before, his voice now softer than swinging doors and the sprinting servers.

“What is it?”

“I’ve told you the restaurant is offering discounts if—” He pauses intermittently in between words.

“For the last time, I did not and will not be bringing a date.” You groan, cutting him off, well aware of what you were going to hear next.

Doyoung breathes out a shaky sigh. He parades a look of pity, brows furrowed and head tilted at an angle with a frown.

“Hyung.” You slur your words. “I’m fine.”

“And hey it’s 2021, being single is the trend.” You object.

“I’m just looking out for you.”

“I know you are.” You try to reassure him with a smile. “But if you don’t mind, I want to continue eating the dinner that my friend prepared for me because he cost me a 12 hour business class flight.”

“Didn’t you say first class?”

“Either way, I had to sleep sitting down because of you.” You scoff.

“Alright, I’m going to check up on the other tables.” Doyoung nods, pressing his lips into a toothless smile. “Let’s catch up more over coffee after we close?”

“Sure.” You hum as he turns his back to tend to more customers. Going seat to seat, he greets them with a smile, shaking hands with the occasional occupant.

You rub your temples and look down slightly, resting your chin on the collar of the honey brown crew neck wrapped around your torso. The loosely tucked out hems of your denim shirt hang under it, fluttering in the air.

Behind the strands of hair being blown into your eyes from the air conditioning, your eyelids drop. You’re tired, exhausted, fatigued and everything else you can think of. Conversations around you seem to morph into buzzes of static.

Eyelids your field of vision as your upper body rests on the table top. Footsteps tap against the floor adding to the sound of clinking cutlery, sizzling meats and conversations muffled by the sleeves of your sweater.

A man waves in front of the reception desk as he struts into the restaurant. “Excuse me.”

“Good evening sir.” Karina greets, with a smile. “How may I help you?”

“I have a reservation.”

“May I have your name please.” Karina looks down on a monitor, tapping on a keyboard with one hand, brushing hair behind the shoulders of her blazer with the other.

“Xiao Dejun.”

“Ahh Mr. Xiao, you have a VIP reservation am I right?” She beams, looking back up at the man who briskly nods back.

“Your seat is in the first room to my right.” Karina reaches her palm out and points to the door.

Xiaojun utters a soft ‘thank you’ and looks over his shoulder to give Karina a small wave as he walks towards the room.

A restaurant attendant opens the door for him. Inside, it slides open, rustling like paper as its bottom grinds against the glistening wooden floor. Producing an exhale, you let your breath get sucked out through the openings of your nostrils and lips.

Behind your forearms, the big tsunami-like waves and tangerine colored koi painted on the door disappear into the wall. You squint your eyes close one last time, sprawling your limbs to stretch, terminating the sleep left in your system.

Your eyes flutter open, catching a man in its path, the figure becomes clearer the wider they open.

“X-Xiaojun.” You quiver in place, saying his name for the first time in eight years.

“Y-Y/n.” Behind the auburn strands of hair in his face, his gaze meets yours. He timidly waves at you through a nervous smile. “H-hi.”

Was he good looking? Definitely.

Was he a good person? Oh god yes, and your breakup didn’t change your opinion on that.

Though not your first relationship, Xiaojun was definitely your first true love. But as some people say, life just happens. Months after your break up, you left for New York for a job opportunity.

It had been a considerable while since you had last seen or heard from him. Nothing aside from the occasional mention in phone calls with Doyoung and appearance in pictures with your other friends.

But here you were, back in Korea, the commandeer of your late night thoughts, seated beside you at the grand opening of Doyoung’s restaurant almost a decade later.

“It’s been a while.” You sheepishly smile.

“It really has.” Xiaojun agrees, reciprocating the smile. “You look great.”

“Thanks.” You sit up straight. “You do too.”

Outside, Doyoung continues to hop from table to table, tending to customers.

“Here is your order for extra noodles and a pot of tea.” Doyoung smiles at a woman. “Enjoy your meal ma’am.”

“Boss, you told me to inform you of the arrival of someone named Xiao Dejun was it?” Karina calls out for Doyoung, as he carries an emptied tray onto a free tray stand.

“Yes.” Doyoung breathily replies. “What about it?”

“He came just a few minutes ago, I’ve been looking for you to tell you.” She says with heavy and speedy breaths, resting her palms on her knees.

Doyoung’s eyes widen. “Which private room did you tell him to go to?”

“The first one to my right.”

“No-n-no oh no.” Doyoung strings his fingers into his hair.

“What’s the matter?”

“I needed you to tell me because I wanted to ask you to make sure they wouldn’t end up in the same room.” He rambles, vigorously rubbing his temples.

“Why?” Karina blankly questions. “Is there anything between them?”

“Xiaojun is his ex from 8 years ago.”

“Oh no.” She bows her head, covering her face with both of her palms. “Did it end badly or something?”

“You really ask a lot of questions don’t you.” Doyoung snickers. “Well, not exactly.”

“They broke up on good terms actually, the only problem was that it was so obvious that they still loved each other.” He says, sighs ballooning out of his lips.

“Wait,” Karina interrupts. “And yet, they hadn’t gotten back together since then?”

“Y/n left for New York before they could say anything to each other.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like you knew.” Doyoung sees Karina frown and pats her head. “I just hope they can at least talk.”

And that you did.

Alcohol clouds your minds as you sit beside each other splitting sides at exchanged stories. The sting of the drinks fry the back of your throats and hiccups intermittently shoot up from you, cutting your sentences.

"It’s 12:30 A.M.'' You wheeze, making glances around the pretty much empty room.

"No way." Xiaojun spits out raspily, taking another sip of his cocktail, peering forward to get a glimpse of the watch on your wrist.

“Speaking of which, remember that time, about 11 years ago.” You playfully nudge his shoulder. “It was around this time when we went to get groceries and you attacked someone over a cut of steak.”

“I did not!” Xiaojun manages to speak up amidst the laughter drowning out proper communication from you two.

“Xiaojun, you pushed her so hard that she fell.” Your hand flops onto Xiaojun’s shoulder to prevent yourself from rolling over, letting out a prominent wheeze.

“She pushed me first!” He sternly objects. “Plus, if I didn’t, we wouldn’t have had those amazing fajitas.”

“That was a good early morning snack.” You agree.

“A good date too.” Xiaojun smiles back at you.

“Our first actually.” You add, looking down as a smile creeps into your lips. “That was such a long time ago.”

Which it was.

“Time just flies so fast doesn’t it?” Xiaojun replies as his palm slides up your fingers before settling on the knuckles at the back of your hand.

A rosy flush burns on your cheeks and your eyes go from your linked fingers and eventually trail up to him. You two momentarily lock eyes. He promptly jerks his away, withdrawing his hand from yours.

“S-so, wait, a-are you back here for good?” Xiaojun says.

“I guess so, things are getting pretty crazy over there.” You shrug, shooting him a crooked smile. “And the food’s too greasy, can’t eat any of it.”

“That’s good.” Xiaojun chuckles weakly. “You always hated greasy foods.”

“I’ve missed you.” You look into his eyes again and gently stroke his shoulder before going down to his arm and producing a sharp exhale. “A lot.”

“I-I have too.” He stutters, shivering slightly, his posture stiff under your touch.

“You know, every time I think about it,” You look down, and fiddle with your fingers. “I wondered why you never tried chasing me down the airport the day I left.”

“Y-Y/n.”

Deep down, part of me was actually hoping that you’d come after me and convince me to stay.

“So many times, I’ve wanted to fly out there to just try and pick up where we left off and—” He rambles, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists on his sides.

“What stopped you then?” You mumble. A frown stemming from your lips.

“I-I don’t know.” He voices out softly, with a furrowed expression.

“I do like someone Xiaojun.” You sigh.

“I figured.” Xiaojun stands up from the seat, slipping his shoes on and making his way out of the room.

“They’d be lucky to have you.” Xiaojun chokes on his words, his sentence growing weak.

“It was nice meeting you again.” His voice echoes into the empty room, his words ricocheting off of the walls and the soy sauce stained bowls before coming back to you.

You frantically jump up from the recessed floor. As his fingers cling onto the door’s handle, you grip him by his shoulders as he slides it open. “I never said it wasn’t you.” You call out to him, stopping him in his tracks.

Xiaojun turns his head, looking over his shoulder, slivers of tears in his eyes twinkling against the lights.

“So tell me then,” You whisper huskily, staring back into Xiaojun’s eyes. “Where were we?”

Tonight felt familiar.

The laughs, the fond glances, the touching. Being able to talk to each other and having good laughs while doing so. Being able to hit it off just like you had 11 years ago when Doyoung introduced you two to each other.

Being with Xiaojun just felt right even after a decade.

Enough was enough, you thought.

You dash towards Xiaojun, gripping the sides of his neck with both hands, pulling him closer to you. The tip of your thumbs slide over the tears sitting at the sides of his irises. Your eyes mirror his lidded gaze before wandering to the lips that you’ve longed for the past eight years.

Before your mind could even begin to process, your lips were on Xiaojun’s. Your eyes shut close as his palms land on your chest and slide up to tug at your shoulders.

You push him back against a wall, bruising the tips of some fingers between it and the back of his head. It dips to the side, as you press your face even deeper into his.

Slowly opening your eyes, your puckered lips hover over Xiaojun’s as you gasp for air. You tenderly stare into each other’s eyes for a second, bringing a hand away from the side of his neck to brush strands of hair away from his glittering eyes.

Soft moans escape from between your adhered lips as you reconnect them, further muffled by the contact of your tongues. Xiaojun’s forearms cross over your nape as you burrow your lips down to his neck. He lets out a breathy gasp that tickles your ears as his chin falls onto your shoulder as his mouth goes agape.

You bring your arms up as Xiaojun hastily pulls your sweater over your head and catapults it over the table of food. Your fingers scramble for the collar of his shirt as he undoes the top buttons of yours.

“Good work today, I’ll just make one last check around the place and I’ll get going.” Doyoung says, wiping sweat off of his forehead as he sprawls onto a couch in the waiting area. “See you tomorrow.”

“Thanks boss! Bye!” Karina waves as she exits the restaurant.

Doyoung walks over to the reception desk to see a patch of light coming from the opened door to the private room you were in.

“Is he not done eating?” Doyoung raises a brow, looking at his watch. “Was my food that good?”

“Hey Y/n, we’re closed for tonight, let’s go get some—” Doyoung’s eyes widen upon peeping through the opened door. “—coffee.” He continues his sentence weakly.

In a pushup position over Xiaojun, your hands are on either side of his neck, head buried under his chin, disheveled hair laying over his chest like a puddle. His fingers digging into the wrinkled back of your shirt as his knees wrap around your hips.

“You little—” Doyoung croaks amidst the pants, moans and heavy breathing. His eyebrows dipped as the lids of his twitching eyes vigorously vibrate.

“Th-that wasn’t on the menu!” He softly yells. But ease seems to wash over him however, his agitated expression quickly morphs into one of relief. His mind wanders to the memory of the last time walked in on you two in the compromising position you were in.

Though not a pleasant sight to see, a second time at that, it does offer him the same kind of closure that it did for you. He didn't exactly like the thought of you two doing what you were doing, more so in his restaurant’s VIP room, but he’s happy for you. All those years of pent up regret and brooding, finally over.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he walks the other direction, pulling out a chair and taking a seat at one of the tables in the dining area.

“You’re still not getting that discount.” Doyoung closes his eyes and breathily mumbles.

“And you’re paying for coffee.” He grunts, glaring at the door. One thing he knew for sure was that you two were going to one really expensive café.

𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙙: 02.04.21

𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙: 02.14.21

#xiaojun x male reader #wayv x male reader #nct x male reader #xiao dejun x male reader #kpop x male reader #nct male reader #kpop male reader #male reader #nct #nct 2020 #karina #aespa #doyoung #wayv male reader

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xpeachesncream · 3 years

Note

Can i Request a Drabble where Aiko keeps sending taehyung Nudes and the reader gets insecure about her appearance bc of it? She compares herself to Aiko and it makes taehyung upset :/ im not too good with requests sorry if this isn’t clear

perfectly wrong | drabble [11]: it’s the way that she sits pretty with that perfect hourglass shape of hers in her nudes.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: cussing, implied sexual content, jealousy, insecurities about image/looks

Okay, let's be real. Men love nudes. They all have needs, and they all love marveling at a naked body, especially when it comes unexpectedly. It could be a good, or bad thing. Whatever it is, they love that shit either way. I'm calling a man's bluff if he ever says he didn't enjoy looking at someone's nudes.

Taehyung isn't exempt. It was honestly the biggest highlight when he went on his fuckboy spree. Just the feeling of being wanted so badly that girls would send you nudes to grab your attention. Biggest ego booster.

Before anyone gets on his ass, he loves his woman and he quickly taps out of the snapchat so he doesn't see it for long. It's been Aiko's 5th nude so far, and he's already knowing what to expect when the notification hits his screen. He knows this shit.

You were there the first time she sent him a nude over snapchat. You both looked at it, confused that it had been sent to the wrong person since she hadn't sent him anything in between that movie selfie and this. It became a running joke for awhile, but it eventually died the less you saw or heard of it. You just actually didn't know she was still sending him nudes.

So, when you see her snapchat notification pop up on his screen again, you're a little taken aback.

"Aiko's still sending you snaps?" You ask as you hug Taehyung tightly while you both are cuddling on Jimin's couch, watching another yet unsatisfying episode of Unsolved Mysteries. You all had just finished watching The Hate U Give, Jimin throwing the channel on something random afterwards. He sat on the other portion of his couch, hugging a pillow tightly against his chest as he cussed to himself and mumbled questions about how people could stand this show if barely any of the episodes were actually solved.

You get the frustration, right? You just wanna know if they ever caught the killer, or if they found new clues, but most of the episodes end so abruptly with that 'if you happen to have any info regarding this case' message with the number to call.

"Yeah, it's whatever though." Taehyung says, keeping his eyes on the tv while you fiddled with his phone.

"Woah!" You say as you pressed on her snap, revealing her nude and on her bed, fingers trailing down to her lady friend. You tilted your head as you watched her begin to rub her clit ever so softly. The thing that gets you though is her body, and how she sat there, looking like a perfect hourglass. "Interesting." Taehyung looks at his phone and does a double take.

"Oh shit." He nonchalantly says as he also tilts his head confusingly while looking at the snap, causing you to shake your head and hit his chest as you tap out if it. The second thing that catches your eye is how many times her name comes up in his history.

"She's been sending you snaps?"

"Yeah, but I don't pay much attention to it." He caresses your arm as you slightly tilt your head up to look at him.

"Have they all been nudes?"

"Yes, but I told you I don't pay much attention to it, baby." You were unsatisfied with his answer, only because you just got a glimpse of what she sent tonight. You have no idea what the others looked like, but you were thinking it was just as this one was - the perfect position in her hourglass shape.

"Okay." Is all you say. You suddenly felt insecure as fuck, knowing your man had seen those snaps of her. She honestly looked like a fucking goddess and it kills you. He used to fuck her, for god's sake! Aka he used to have the hots for her to some extent?! He considered it once, and it makes you feel a little queazy knowing he could again.

"What happened?" Jimin asks from his side of the couch.

"Aiko sent Taehyung a nude." You flatly respond.

"Seen it, she's sent me the same ones." You roll your eyes because for Jimin, it's whatever. For your man though, please. Don't come up in his inbox with that mess. What the fuck was she trying to do here, show the world her coochie? She was feeling herself that much?

Shit, honestly. Single and with that body, you would be too. Fuck, that's annoying.

"Baby, it's nothing, okay?" He gently tickles your chin.

"Kaaaaay, I heard you." You say as bothered as possible. For the remaining time at Jimin's, you're quiet. Your mood has plunged. You just wanted to sulk in your bed. Taehyung takes notice, but he was going to wait until you two were alone to bring it up.

Which is now, in the car, in your guest parking spot.

"Okay, what's going on in my pretty lady's head?" He shuts off the car and sinks into the driver's seat, having the damn nerve to manspread in it.

"Nothing."

"Mm, not gonna fly with me, sweetheart."

"I just can't believe she's been sending you nudes."

"So what? It doesn't mean anything."

"Yeah right, with that body of hers? How could it not? You used to have a thing for her."

"Used to."

"Her body is fucking perfect, it's annoying."

"Babygirl, don't do that. I don't like when you compare yourself. You're the only person I know who's close to perfect." He boops your nose, but it leaves you unamused. You're just letting your feelings of insecurity and jealousy get to you that everything is clouded. All the things he's saying doesn't reach you, and you're literally in the mood to pick a fight for no whole ass reason over it. That was exactly one of your other bad habits that you had trouble unlearning.

"Whatever." You brushed him off, making him a little irritated with the way you were coming off over this. Again, Taehyung doesn't mind reassuring you. He loves doing it. He loves babying you and being the best he can be. But there were days where your attitude did get to the best of him, especially when he was trying. Taehyung hadn't given you a reason to make you doubt him since you two became exclusive, so he didn't think it was necessary for you to act the way you were acting.

"Really, Y/N? This isn't necessary."

"Why are you still even entertaining her snaps? Shouldn't you have gotten rid of her contact info already?" He grabs his phone and blocks her on snapchat, showing it to you before shoving it into the small storage space under the car's radio.

"There, happy?"

"Why are you so mad about it? I'm sorry you want to see her body so fucking badly."

"I'm mad because you're being a brat when you don't need to be." He looks at you intimidatingly with his piercing eyes. "You're putting words in my mouth. I never said I wanted to. Plus, I've told you time and time again that it was nothing and that it didn't mean anything to me." You roll your eyes, getting out of the passenger's seat to make your way up to your apartment.

Alright so, here's the deal. You feel like Taehyung is missing the point. Aiko looked so good in that ones nap. So good that you suddenly questioned your own look and felt completely insecure. You disliked hearing him say it wasn't a big deal, because it was. To you, at least.

Taehyung sighed heavily before going after you. He does a light jog, barely catching the elevator you had hopped into.

"Y/N, don't do that." You glared at him.

"It's not a big deal, right?" He sighs again before running his hand through his curly hair. The elevator doors open, but he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you back in and preventing you from walking out. "Tae, let me go."

"Nah." He shrugs. "Not until we fix this." The elevator stays at their floor.

"You said it wasn't a big deal." You crossed your arms.

"Okay, I'm sorry." A good thing about Taehyung is that he's learned to be better about admitting his mistakes and saying sorry when he's in the wrong. "I shouldn't have said it in a way that would make you feel like I'm discrediting your feelings." You continue to look at him silently, the elevator suddenly going back down to the lobby. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner or get rid of her shit earlier. But baby, her snapchats don't mean a thing to me. I don't care how 'good' she looks or if they're nudes." He uses finger quotes. "It's still not you."

"I just--" You sighed, watching a lady come into the elevator to join you two to go up to the 8th floor. "I feel like I can't look that good. She had the perfect hourglass figure and she looked so good posing for her nudes. The perfect angle, her hair, the way she smiled through her eyes. I can only imagine what the others were like." He shook his head and shrugged.

"I honestly don't remember." Truthfully. He really didn't care about them, even if he took a quick glance. At the end of the day, they still weren't memorable because it wasn't his lady. "And I don't care if she has that, or whatever it is. I love you." He smiles toothlessly at you. You catch the lady scrunch her nose and smile at you both before walking off. "I love every single thing about you. You're the definition of perfect to me. I hate when you compare yourself because I really, really wish you could see the way I see you."

"Cheesy." It causes you to chuckle a bit and press your hand against his chest as he presses the button to your floor.

"Yeah, okay. You still like to hear it though, I know you." He smirks playfully as he pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head. "If it's not you, I don't want it."

"I honestly hate you sometimes." He shrugs before picking you up by the legs and carrying you, causing you to squeal.

"So then hate me."

"Put me down!"

"Say it to my face in bed, baby." He playfully smacks your ass in the hallway, allowing it to echo as he carries you to your apartment. It was hard to stay mad at Taehyung, but you were grateful you had someone like him who could bring you back down to Earth. You had your fair share of bickering and unnecessary arguments [because you liked picking fights with your attitude], but he was still able to show you that he would ride or die for you, no matter how silly things got.

That was your man, and your man only. Sorry Aiko.

#bts #bts fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #kth x reader #writing #perfectly wrong drabbles #perfectly wrong #kth series #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #kim taehyung fluff #kth fluff #taehyung angst #bts angst #kim taehyung angst #kth angst

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sombreboy · 4 years

Text

Dining out⇢kth x jjk

⇢18+ ⇢pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook (brief ft.Namjoon & Jisoo) ⇢genre: Smut, fluff, mxm, married couple ⇢word count: 8k ⇢warnings: Profanity, dumb humor, lil secret touching under the dinner table, bratty sub tae, dom daddy jk, I swear the daddy kink is heavy for these boys sometimes and this is one of those times, puppy petname; CHECK, blowjob, finger sucking, fingering, filming their shenanigans with their phone, tae fucks himself on jk's big doink then gets fucked good, meme ending because i am too lazy but at least you got a good fucking in. xo

A/N: Serves as a oneshot within the Love Maze series AU, however can also be read on it’s own. Co-written with my lovely @velvetwicebang <3

“Okay, remember to feed her every two to three hours.” Jimin nodded; blonde hair bobbing as he did so. The man carefully bounced the babbling baby on his hip, suppressing the need to roll his eyes at Taehyung’s constant reminders.

They’d only be gone for a few hours; but Taeyeon’s fathers were treating this like a five-month vacation.

“Her formula is in the bag, and so is her apple sauce! Sometimes she gets fussy right after she eats, so rub her tummy and give her a few pats on the back. Also, there’s diapers—“

“Guys, we know. We’ve looked after her before, remember?” Jimin reached out to place a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder; unknowing of Taeyeon’s infatuation with his boyfriend’s tattoos.

He didn’t have as many as her daddy Koo, but her shiny, doe eyes curiously scanned over the new piece of art. She found his eyes cool..

“No, I know.” Taehyung sighed, knowing he needed to calm the fuck down— but, Taeyeon.. but their date night.. “Normally we would’ve left her with Namjoon and Jisoo, but obviously that isn’t an option.”

“Cool, we’re the second choice. Nice.” Jimin wasn’t truly hurt by his friend’s careless reveal, only chuckling as he reassured them of the best.

“Shit, Jimin, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s just she knows them bet—“

“Tae, be quiet before I throw this apple sauce at you.”

Taehyung’s mouth was glued shut.

“Just go out and have fun, alright? We’ll look after Taeyeon, she’s in good hands. You seem stressed out as hell, I dunno, maybe even fuck it out while you’re at it.”

Tae simply sighed, detaching himself from Jungkook’s arm to press a soft kiss onto Taeyeon’s head, bidding his temporary goodbyes.

“Okay, well.. we’re leaving. We should be back soon. Thanks, again.”

"Thanks guys, don't hesitate to call us if you need to!" Jungkook chirped, a bit less worried than his husband. Surprisingly, Taehyung seemed to be the one who was always extra, extra protective and worried about separating from their little daughter. Now, Kook was a worrier himself, but he never thought he'd be the one tugging at the elder to finally be able to let go of being a father for just one second.

Kook's eyes met with the little doe eyes their daughter mirrored, his toothy grin growing as she quickly resumed her attention towards the tall man. He might've looked a bit intimidating at first, but everyone quickly learned that he was probably the softest one of them all.

Jungkook pulled Taehyung with him quickly, closing the door behind them before heading towards their car. They haven't been able to get this kind of time to be a couple for quite a while, and both of them were excited-- and anxious. It was routine by now with their child, and breaking it was harder than it seemed. BUT, fuck, did they need it. Stress was no joke with these men. Work, eat, sleep, clean, shit... Take care of the baby, make time for each other?

It wasn't easy, but they were a team. And did they make a damn good one.

"You look good." Jungkook grasped for Tae's hand to hold it cutely by the car. "We should take a picture of this rare occasion of both of us being properly put together at the same time for once."

“You’re right. This is rare as fuck..” Taehyung’s shoulders dropped to a less unnatural position, deep-set brows resuming to their place, ripening his facial muscles. He hooked an arm around Jungkook’s delicate waist, pulling him in until their sides touched. “Let the photographer do the honors, ey?” Cocky as ever, the elder’s hand uninvitingly reached inside of Koo’s back pocket, searching for the younger’s phone whilst he hummed into their short-lived kiss. Tae pulled away with a dorky smile, angling the high-tech device towards the starry sky, a wash of light shining down on them as if the cluster of stars themselves were on their side; working towards getting them the perfect picture.

It was cheesy— every second of it— but, Taehyung found his anxiety crumbling the longer they spent taking silly photos, so he said: ‘fuck it’.

“I like this one, you look like a full course meal.” Tae nudged his husband’s side, believable as he mercilessly teased. “Ah, okay. We should get going before Joon thinks we’ve bailed or something, you know he always thinks of the worst.” The elder climbed onto the passenger seat, twisting his body to reach for the seatbelt. “How much do you wanna bet Jisoo is holding him back from making a phone call right now?”

Jungkook's bunny-like grin grew at the compliment, the apple of his cheeks tinted with a rosy hue. He grabbed his cell phone back from his husband before sitting down in the driver's seat, deciding to post their selfie on his Instagram.

"I bet she took his phone away already. If not, they'll see our pretty picture." Kook scrunched his nose before placing his phone down in his front pocket. He starts the car and backs out on the driveway, giving their home one last glance before driving off.

"I'm excited, honestly. We haven't had a second for ourselves lately." The younger sighed, eyes flickering to keep his attention on the traffic. With one hand on the steering wheel, the other reached over to smooth over Taehyung's thigh as if to soothe him.. Koo could easily tell the elder was still having a bit of separation anxiety for leaving their daughter with their friends... "Let's enjoy this to the fullest, don't think too much. You know what would be nice? A few drinks to loosen up a bit."

“Yeah, I need that.” Taehyung knew Koo could see right through him. It was no secret that the elder’s mind lingered somewhere else; Taeyeon, to be exact. Tae knew he was extremely overprotective, it was never something he’d felt ashamed of in the past. What could you expect from someone who grew up in a hostile environment when they were younger?— it pained him to think this way, but.. If his own father could raise a hand at him, what would a stranger be capable of doing? Of course Tae didn’t think any of their friends would obtain such malice, nor were they strangers to Taeyeon. The opposite, in fact. Each and every one of their hyungs held a special place in the girl’s heart. The elder guessed that his past’s trauma arose now that he was a father himself. Taehyung wanted to do better.

Jungkook's smile didn't falter from his face the entire ride, the faint tugging of his lips in excitement a constant reminder of how relieved he actually is to be able to get some time alone to focus on his friends-- and especially his husband for the night. He pulled up into the restaurant parking lot, the scent coming off the building already hitting their noses even as they sat outside in their car. Kook inhaled with a content sigh, leg almost jumping in excitement. He was a foodie after all-- and since he finally has a stable income along with Taehyung, he's never had to worry whether or not there'd be food on the table. Cheesy one might say, but once in a while the younger still enjoyed to microwave some noodles on occasion either way.

"We're here." He cooed joyfully as he clicked the seatbelt off to lean over to the passenger seat, placing a haste kiss on Taehyung's cheek. He lingered, letting his lips hover over the elders skin. Taking a moment, he drank in the view. Taehyung has always been the most handsome man that Jungkook had ever laid eyes on, and as the years passed by quickly, that still never changed. One would say Taehyung only became hotter, aging like a fine wine.

"You look so good tonight... I won't be able to keep my eyes off you." Kook smiled, cupping Taehyung's cheek to draw him in for a proper kiss.

Taehyung giggled in the midst of their kiss, the sound so small and indistinct, but in the calming stillness of a parked vehicle it was impossible for its vibrations to go over one’s head. It definitely went noticed by the culprit himself, who blushed at the abrupt realization that even after many years spent by Koo’s side, the latter always knew how to make him feel beautiful..

“Thanks. You look really good too, baby..” Tae licked over his lips, able to still taste Jungkook despite the younger having pulled away. “Fuck, okay. Let’s go in; I’m hungry and Joon’s probably losing it by now.”

“Where the hell were you guys? We’ve been waiting for what—“ Namjoon’s eyes flickered down to his watch, “—fifteen minutes?”

Taehyung snorted, “What do you want us to do? Get down on the ground and bow at your feet?”

“You know what? Hell yea—“

Jisoo stepped in, speaking on behalf of her husband, “No need for any major bows here.. Ah, please sit down. Joon’s extra dramatic when he’s hungry.”

"You're not you when you're hungry." Jungkook recited the old commercial with a giggle, shaking his head at how bad it was-- but so funny to his young mind. He sat down in the booth across from Jisoo, with Taehyung sliding down next to him to sit across from Joon.

"Fifteen minutes is precious cooking time at a place like this, Kook. Don't joke--"

"Won't happen again hyung!" Jungkook saluted clearly, his toothy grin too effective towards Joon-- whether he wanted to admit it or not. His bunny-like smile would never cease to work as a secret weapon...

"Whatever." Namjoon grumbled as he picked up the digital device on the table used to order their food.

"How have you guys been?" Jisoo chirped as she glanced over at the little tablet, clicking occasionally to help navigate Joon's confused behavior towards the device.

"Stressed." Jungkook sighed, leaning his head against Taehyung's shoulder. "Having a child is no joke, there's never a dull day. But I love it, though." Kook mused, waiting for their turn with the tablet, reaching out for it when Jisoo had completely taken over to order for her and her husband. He stares at the contents for a moment, showing Tae the various choices of alcohol, hovering with his finger over the stronger drinks with a coy eyebrow.

“You know me too well.” Taehyung returned the favor, imitating Koo’s raised brow before pointing at the drink of his choice; Tae was aware he needed to chillax. And alcohol never disappoints.

Once they were finished ordering their starting drinks, the elder dismissed the tablet to the side. He scooted closer to Jungkook until they were practically squished together in spite of the extra space; playing with his husband’s fingers from under the table.

“Yeah, Taeyeon’s a handful.” The corner of Taehyung’s lips twitched upwards as he amusingly breathed out through his nose, mind tracing back to their daughter. “But she’s cute though, so it makes up for it.” The elder turned his head to look at Kook, “Also, this guy right here is pretty good with babies.”

Jisoo voiced out her agreement, reminded of the older days when Jungkook would help her with Yuna once he was done with school. Now her friend was married, and caring after a baby of his own.. Proud was an understatement in Jisoo’s mind. Every time she looked at Koo her heart swelled; the boy she once knew had grown into a man. But then again, Jungkook had always been really mature. In a sense, it’s the same guy Jisoo’s always considered her close friend— and fed on the daily.. “Joon could learn a few things..”

The mumbling under the older woman’s breath didn’t go unnoticed by Namjoon, who came to his own defense as quickly as lightning strikes the ground, “I showed up to the wrong preschool once!”

Taehyung butted in, confused but amused, “You forgot where your son goes to school?” Tae’s shoulders vibrated as he laughed, suddenly feeling much better about his own mishaps as a parent.

“The drinks can come out anytime now..” Namjoon tried to swerve away from the topic; his failed attempt at being sly earned himself a couple rounds of laughter.

Yeah, maybe Taehyung needed this..

As the tray of drinks finally arrived, they were left to sip on whatever they've ordered while waiting for their dinner. Jisoo and Namjoon both opted for the simple choice; beer. While Jungkook was an avid enthusiast of alcohol, whether it be beer, tequila, wine... He did settle for a large glass of wine, perfect for the occasion on his end-- and perfect as it always got him pleasantly warmed up.

"Ah, I'm so hungry...." Jungkook groaned, waiting for that big, fat juicy steak he'd seen on the screen. Meat was his one true love-- if you'd disregard the fact that his husband existed. He worked out just as avidly as he did in their younger days.. Well, tried to, and therefore his appetite was comparable to that of a horse.

"You're always hungry!" Jisoo joked, slapping Joon's shoulder as she laughed.

"Yah! Why'd you hit me?!" Namjoon nudged her shoulder back with his dimpled smile.

"Ah, food!" Jungkook's big, doe eyes sparkled with a childlike joy when the food finally arrived, jaw hanging open in pure admiration.

Taehyung chimed out loud along with Koo, ignoring Jisoo’s and Namjoon’s playful banter in the background. All that was on his mind at the moment was, ‘must eat’. Taeyeon snuck in there once in a while, but Tae trusted Jimin and his boyfriend. They’ve always returned his baby back in one piece, so that’s that. Maybe the alcohol was helping; he wasn’t as restless.

“Fuuck,” Taehyung knocked his head back, resting it against the backrest of the booth whilst he chewed on the piece of meat, savoring the burst of flavor that’d just popped in his mouth. “Koo, here.” It didn’t matter that they ordered the same meal, Tae still cut out a small piece for his husband to try. He blew on it before guiding it into Jungkook’s mouth, “Fucking delicious, right?”

Jungkook chomped the piece of meat off the fork with his bunny teeth, chewing it happily. His eyes widened as he nodded, humming in content. Food did taste better when it was from your husband's plate, confirmed. "So fucking good, oh my god.. " Koo agreed. Both men were just feeding off of each other's plates at this point, letting out all their curses and groans occasionally. Being censored on the daily was harder than they thought, and finally letting it all out--- somewhat satisfying.

Namjoon eyed the couple with a mix of disgust for their cheesiness, yet the dimples proved that he couldn't hold his smile for the two. They were grown ass men, and yet they acted like dorky the teens they’ve always been the moment they are together like this. It was endearing.

"What? You want me to feed you too?" Jisoo nudged Joon with a coy smile on her lips, immediately laughing when he shook his head.

"Definitely not." He joked back. He hated to share his food-- but so did Jisoo, so it was okay.

The evening went on for a bit, everyone talking-- rather, Namjoon rambling about everything and nothing while the rest ate, drank, and drank....

Jungkook couldn't help but continuously look over at his husband. He was just so fucking hot, when was the last time he was able to truly admire him like this? Forever ago.. A few drinks in and Koo's cheeks were hot, hazy eyes only half listening to the rambling from the other side of the table, nodding absentmindedly. His hand, however, decided to snake over to the elder's lap, gently rubbing up and down the soft fabrics, feeling the firm muscle underneath.

Taehyung was just as buzzed; their conversations only stuck with him for a couple of seconds before he reached for his glass of wine, downing the remainder of the scarlet drink. He was loosening up, or so he thought.. The meat of the elder’s thigh clenched, and his dimmed eyes averted downwards towards the source of the unexpected caress on his leg. With barely any space between the two, Tae awkwardly shifted around in his seat— however, he didn’t bother on pushing Jungkook’s hand away.

He liked it..

It’s been a hot minute since his husband put this much attention on him. The touch was small, but even such delicacy had Taehyung’s hormones in a twist..

“What are you doing?” He leaned in to whisper into Koo’s ear, resting his own hand on the younger’s thigh. Tae told himself that it was for balance, but even he knew that wasn’t exactly the truth. “Fuck, you’re hard,” his hand had slithered upwards to Jungkook’s crotch, groping his husband’s cock through the fabric of Kook’s pants.

"What are you doing? ah.." Jungkook's thighs quivered, gently bucking up into Tae's hand as he desperately tried to act unaffected. Not that the other couple would notice-- they were just as buzzed, just rambling, occasionally bantering... Koo barely noticed their presence at this point.

All he could think about was Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung...

"You just look so hot, babe, how could I not be hard?.." He huffed quietly, the hand on Tae's thigh mirroring the elders movements by palming his husband's cock right back, able to feel the shape and girth of it through the fabrics. "Shit, what I'd do to have you on your knees below this table instead..."

Taehyung’s shrunken pupils vigilantly switched between his husband and the other couple in front of them, until he realized there was no need..

Joon and Jisoo weren’t quite at their level, but it was obvious the beer had gotten to their systems if the cheesy mumbles and sudden display of affection were anything to go by. They were never cheesy— in front of them, at least.

“Don’t tempt me, we’ll probably get banned from this place or something..” Tae’s drunken smile beamed in the dimmed lighting before his lips abruptly took the shape of an ‘o’. Embarrassed, he nuzzled his nose in the dip of Jungkook’s neck, continuing to rub and squeeze Koo’s prominent bulge at a fixed pace despite crumbling underneath the younger’s teasing himself. “It’s been so long since I really got to feel you like this, and it’s been too long since you’ve felt me; really felt me..”

“Let us in on the secrets! Don’t be so secretiveee, it’s not nice, y’know.” Jisoo loudly sipped on her water’s straw, lips closing in on the frail plastic after her third try— her aim when drunk was amusing.

“This feels like all the way back to, uh, second grade was it? When all my buds talked shit behind my back ‘n crap.”

The woman pouted, “Awe, babe, fuck those kids. Look at you now, with mee! They wish they had me.”

Namjoon understood in spite of her strong slurring, “They’ll never have you, mine.”

Taehyung turned to look back at Jungkook, face reading; ‘what the fuck’. “Wanna get out of here? Kinda want some.. privacy.”

Jungkook couldn't even play it cool at this point, his eager nodding proving just how badly he wanted to get out of there as well-- if his throbbing erection wasn't enough to go by. "Yeah, please." Kook’s ragged breath whispered back, withdrawing his hand from Taehyung's crotch to inhale deeply. "Follow me... I have a fun idea." Since they couldn't go home, nor did they have a hotel room for the night-- there was only one option the younger could think of. A fun one, in his own mind. It's been a long fucking time since they did something a little risky... Jungkook was gonna try to say something to the other couple, but it was easier than he expected to have them accept their disappearance, so he simply got up, leaning down to whisper once again into Tae's ear.

"I'll be waiting in the bathroom... You have two minutes. No more, no less." He cooed, a mischievous grin on his lips as he placed a gentle kiss on the elders cheek before strolling off towards the bathroom area, closing the door behind him. The anticipation-- the small amount of waiting was enough to rile him up even further. And surely he hoped it did the same to Taehyung.

Fuck the bathroom, I’ll willingly get down on my knees right at this second— Is what Taehyung wanted to say, but he was far too stunned to even respond with a dumb nod of his head. Jungkook had strutted away without waiting for an answer, and for that Tae was glad.. Every time the younger asserted his natural dominance, Taehyung was left a flustered, unable-to-form-coherent-sentences mess. The elder was convinced the alluring words that slipped past Koo’s lips tasted like honey; they were sweet and sticky, making it awfully hard for Taehyung to forget them.

“I’ll be waiting in the bathroom.. You have two minutes. No more, no less.”

The man didn’t realize he’d been stalling until Jisoo asked him where Jungkook had gone off to.

“He’s.. somewhere. I’m going to the restroom, I’ll be back.” He kept it short ‘n sweet, knowing that whatever was going to happen in the secluded space would be anything but. Jungkook liked taking his time, and Taehyung enjoyed taking all his husband had to offer. The elder loved drowning himself in the moment, which is why he’d grown keen of using his beloved camera for other reasons.. Taehyung looked back on the films a lot— it was hot, and it gave him an excuse to miss Jungkook whilst he was away at work. More often than not Tae couldn’t act on his sexual desires; only settling for giving Koo a messy hand job before they called it a night. But today? It was going to be different.

Taehyung’s eager hand slowly turned on the doorknob, brows arched in anticipation when he’d met Jungkook’s gaze on the other side. It was a family restroom, meaning it was quite small. There were no stalls, only space meant for one. Or two..

Tae’s back was pressed up against the door as he pushed it shut, making sure to lock it. He stayed still in his place, arms shyly tucked from behind him. “I think I went over two minutes, daddy.”

"You did, puppy." The corner of Jungkook's lip curved into a smirk as he moved forward, barely a few steps before he was already towering over his husband. Internally, he was eager.. Impatient in every sense of the word. But tonight was a once in a while occasion, and it didn't occur often enough for him to waste it on a quick fuck. He'd been longing for this opportunity to truly feel Taehyung again, and boy.. was his body itching to feel everything.

"Can't even follow one simple instruction.." Jungkook tsk'd playfully, pressing up his body against Tae's, deliberately brushing their crotches together to make sure the elder felt just how hard he was for him already. "What do I do with a boy that misbehaves..." Now, Taehyung was anything but a boy-- but making the elder feel smaller was one of his favorite things to do, belittling him until he was nothing but a whiny, pleading sweetheart. Kook grasped Tae's chin in his long, tattooed grasp to demand eye contact, tilting his head lightly to the side like a curious pup would. "Do you need a reminder of why you call me daddy?"

“Hmm... I think I do..” Taehyung’s tongue peeked out from the small, surprised opening of his flushed lips, brushing over the moisturized skin and wetting it with its saliva. A hitched gasp followed suit, emphasizing the gloss-like effect he’d made for himself; Taehyung knew Koo was a sucker for the posh look. Slowly, his lips relaxed, and Taehyung’s intense gaze clashed with his husband’s. He allowed the latter to feel superior by standing tall before him, while Tae cowered in his place. The delicate, firm hold on his chin was beginning to make itself known, but the elder didn’t dare move out of Jungkook’s clutch. “Remind me, Koo.. why do I call you daddy?” Taehyung’s hands gripped at the younger’s hips, stifling his faint moans as their crotches pressed against one another.

It’s been too fucking long.

“What makes you worthy of that title?” He kept on pushing, wishing Kook would drop the foreplay and fuck him numb once and for all.. The elder was less patient, but he was just as needy.

Jungkook's lips curled into a smirk to serve as a response to Taehyung's daring words, knowing just how needy his husband was to just be stuffed with his cock already. But what the younger loved even more, was the buildup-- to make Tae so flushed and desperate that when he finally gets what he desires, it'll be more than worth the wait.

"Ah, my baby has already forgotten...." He huffs through heavy breaths, leaning forward to kiss his husband. As his tongue claimed the elder's mouth as his own to explore as he wishes, his hands hungrily roamed down his body, feeling and groping at every curve before they began to unbutton Tae's shirt, exposing his flushed skin. Without wasting another second, Jungkook's hands smoothed up Tae's stomach, his thumbs swiping over the elder's nipples softly-- at first. He groaned into the hot kiss, not stopping his hungry ministrations all while continuously teasing Tae's perky nipples, lightly pinching them between the calloused pads of his fingers.

Taehyung’s frail body squirmed in delight, the skin of his chest buried in small goosebumps whilst Jungkook spared him no mercy on one of his most responsive areas. The filthy noises of mild fulfillment scratched at the back of the elder’s throat, calling out for vocal release only to get pushed back down by Kook’s tongue.

“Mmhm..” Tae vaguely hummed into the heated kiss, hot puffs of air slipping past his nose, warming Jungkook’s already sultry skin. Everything about the younger was hot; like a predictable summer’s day.. Just one kiss and Taehyung began melting against him, his smaller body frame molding against the barely-noticeable dip from Jungkook’s chest to his pelvis. Eager, Tae never stopped rubbing their crotches together, driving his husband’s hips towards his own.

“Fuck, babe...” Tae whimpered once he pulled away from the kiss, chest rising while his lungs worked to retrieve back air. Taehyung’s head tipped backwards, bottom lip caught in between his teeth as he nonverbally encouraged Koo to continue playing with his sensitive nipples.

“Daddy.. please film me.” Tae might not have his camera at hand, but something about the quality of a phone turned him on. The elder wants to be able to look back on this moment.. He wants to be able to see his reflection in the mirror while Jungkook fucks him— phone held tightly in his hand. Tae wants Koo to focus on the way his cock sinks deep into him, catching Taehyung’s loud, hiccupy moans on video. They’ve filmed themselves a few times in the past, but Tae’s camera was set up on a tripod. Now, they had the opportunity to pilot a phone how they pleased. Jungkook could pan in on whatever he wanted, get a close-up of the goodies.. “Please, daddy. I’ll be a good boy... I’ll squeeze around you so tight. I’ll be so warm.. fuck— I’ll be your little bitch until you stuff me full of your cum. Then I’ll be nothing but your cum dumpster..”

Jungkook's cock twitched heavily beneath the fabrics, the thought alone of filming his husband in such a scenario bringing him more excitement than he expected. Tae’s cameras were fun, the quality superb... but using his phone seemed so much more intimate, it had the younger heated in excitement.

"Fuck yes... I'll stuff you so well. But first..." Kook placed his hands on the elders shoulders, using his strength to force him down on his knees. With a swift motion, he unbuckled his pants and tugged them down, too eager to wait for his cock to be engulfed by Tae’s plushy lips. His cock bobbed when set free, letting it freely taunt Taehyung as he dug for his cellphone in his back pocket. "Suck on it, puppy." His low, raspy tone was laced with lust, eyes staring at Taehyung's lips through the camera screen on his phone when he pointed it down from his view. "When it's nice and wet, I'll fuck your tight ass until you can barely walk out of here."

“Whatever you say, daddy..” His warm hands skimmed upwards from Jungkook’s beautifully muscular thighs to the latter’s base, where Taehyung took his time feeling the younger’s cock. He began by lazily flicking his wrist, multitasking while the other hand kneaded his husband’s balls. Taehyung played innocent, staring up at the camera whilst his tongue circled around the head; his long eyelashes fluttering in a coy manner.

“Daddy.. daddy, you’re so fucking hot when you’re in control.” Closing his eyes, Tae leaned back in, slowly taking all of Jungkook into the warmth of his mouth. He’s had plenty of practice, his gag reflex was practically nonexistent at this point in their relationship. Taehyung guessed all of those times he’d sucked Jungkook off under the covers when their friends were around— or when he got too impatient and gave Koo the suck of his life in the middle of the grocery store’s parking lot. Not to mention, the birthdays when he’d woken Jungkook up with his limp cock throat-deep in Taehyung’s mouth. They all paid off when it came to unplanned moments such as this one.

Tae hollowed out his cheeks, bobbing his head as he dragged his tongue from Kook’s base to the tip, leaving a trail of saliva along the hardened girth. He’d gotten so consumed in the moment, that Taehyung had forgotten all about the camera.

"Whoa, so pretty when you take my cock like that..." Jungkook's voice was shaky, already feeling the muscles in his thighs tense up. Taehyung knew exactly how to suck him off properly, every drag and movement done with the utmost purpose, hitting every sensitive nerve that riles up Kook to the max.

"I can tell you love it, fuck..." He stated as if it was a fact, and it was. Kook kept one hand gently combing through Tae's dark curls, brushing his fringe away to be able to get a proper visual of the elder through his phone screen, focusing on how his husbands plush lips stretch with the younger's girth, the slick saliva on his silky skin glistening even in his digital eye. "Okay, baby, that's enough... Spit on it and get up, pull down your pants and bend over the sink. Need a good view of your pretty ass."

Taehyung might be a natural-born brat in other aspects, but he never disobeyed Kook’s orders inside of the bedroom. Or a public restroom.. No matter how much Tae wanted to keep going, he did as his husband told, leisurely withdrawing from Jungkook’s cock as if it was the last thing he wanted to do. The elder stalled at the tip, glistening eyes peeling open to meet the phone’s unwavering perspective from above him, keeping a digital memory of Taehyung’s lightly damped, crimson cheeks. His swollen lips pulled off with a loud pop, eyes dimmed as they switched downwards to his husband’s cock. He gathered saliva, swishing the warm, thick substance around his tongue before allowing it to drip down on Jungkook’s already-drenched head.

“It’s so wet..” Tae’s thumb rubbed deep circles on the small slit, moaning to himself at the sly muscle spasms in Jungkook’s clenched thighs. Once Taehyung was satisfied, he followed through with the second order. Shimmying out of the tight jeans that hugged around his thick ass, Tae let them drop to his ankles along with his boxers.

He really was one impatient boy.. He couldn’t wait to get utterly fucked; Taehyung was always horny for cock.

With each hand gripping onto the side of the sink until his knuckles turned white, the elder stood before Koo, back slightly arched whilst his soft stomach pressed up against the cold surface.

“You like what you’re seeing, daddy?” He spoke, looking at Jungkook through the mirror, feeling more cocky now that he wasn’t kneeling down in front of his husband.

"Mhm." Jungkook hummed in approval, his eyes dilated with lust as he dumbfoundedly stared at Taehyung's full cheeks. He's seen his husband naked more times than he could ever count, but every single time it turned him on just as much-- He was insatiable when it came to Kim Taehyung. He angled the camera down as he approached Tae from behind, using his free hand to grab a handful of the flesh, squeezing hard just to see the skin redden underneath his fingers, watching the fat protrude in between his digits. "I love what I'm seeing... Fuck, I've been thinking about doing this to you all day--work was dreadful."

Jungkook's blunt nails dragged across the tanned skin, leaving faint pink marks in it's rake. He spread his cheek with one hand, just enough for him to see his unused entrance. By now the elder had gotten used to Jungkook's sizable stretch without much preparation, although some would still be needed... It had been a while after all. Kook switched the angle to the reflection, making a show out of the way he sucks his finger until it's nice and slick, however wasting no time in massaging Taehyung's delicate rim, and then finally sliding his middle finger inside of his heated flesh. He films Tae's expressions through the mirror before switching back to filming the way he drags his finger in and out of him. A low groan slips past Kook's lips, his cock throbbing as it rests against Taehyung's ass, still wet and impatiently waiting for it's turn to feel the warmth it craves.

"Stretched so easily tonight-- you're that cockhungry, huh." Kook digs his finger deeper past his knuckle, glancing back at the reflection to watch the blissful expressions on his lover's face.

The elder wasn’t given the chance to come up with a vague answer, only mewling softly as he felt his insides grip around Jungkook’s finger; the squeeze so tight while it clenched and unclenched that it almost forced Kook’s single digit out. Still, Taehyung worked on regaining his breaths, relaxing his muscles for a deeper stretch. Jungkook’s cock must’ve plunged deep into him over a million times, but that never meant Tae would lose his tightness. Every time felt just like the first.

“Oh my g-god.. move your finger— please.” Taehyung deliberately squeezed harder, squirming in delight when he felt the pad of Jungkook’s digit brush against his prostate.

Jungkook's lips tugged into a light smirk, a hot breath huffing through them at the beautiful sound of his husband pleading for more. Everything his man did turned him on, but the begging.. It was next level music to his ears. He kept the camera close enough to be able to see the skin of his finger coated in Tae's juices as he pulled out, only to shove in a second along with the first when he pushed it back inside, effortlessly with the sheer amount of force he used to refill the elders tight heat. Kook curled his fingers ever so slightly, just enough to reach that sweet spot better as he began to curl and uncurl his fingers a few times, relishing in the visible contractions around his digits.

"Your ass is squeezing me so tight... Ahh, the camera loves you.." He groaned, now fucking his fingers in and out of Taehyung, his stable hold on the phone capturing every single drag, clench and wet squelch. "You think you could take me already? It's gonna be a tight fit, but fuck... I want to feel your ass crush my cock."

As if the rest of his body was beginning to give out, Taehyung’s head dipped forward, panting heavily until he could make out the hot puffs of air grazing against his own chest.

“D-daddy— fuuck..” His hips rocked into the younger’s nimble fingers, relishing in the toe-curling way Jungkook teased his prostate. “Y-yeah, ‘m ready. First— a-ahh..” Taehyung hissed, raising his head once more to look at his husband through the mirror, long fringe reaching his pleading eyes. “Can I have a taste? Wanna suck on your fingers.” Taehyung didn’t shift eye-contact; eager to swirl his hot tongue around the same fingers that’d been deep inside of him.

Jungkook's small dimples grew more prominent along with his smile, crooking a coy eyebrow as he slowly popped his fingers out of Tae's stretched hole, leaning forward to press his chest against his lover's back, his wet cock pressed between Taehyung's cheeks. He brought his slick digits to Taehyung's hungry mouth, filming the reflection to get a proper view of both men.

"Here you go baby. Daddy's fingers are coated in your lovely juices... Have a taste, give me a good show."

The hand closest to Jungkook’s let go of its numbed grasp on the sink, instead reaching for his husband’s wrist as Taehyung enveloped the two fingers whole. The elder moaned; one that advanced from deep in his chest and rang throughout the otherwise quiet restroom.

He tasted sweet. Tae fucking bet he’s the sweetest Jungkook’s ever had..

He grinded his ass against Kook’s pelvis, staring at his man through the mirror with an intensified gaze, tongue lapping around and between the delicious digits, lips puckered whilst Taehyung bobbed his head. Thick drool dripped from the corner of his mouth, running down his slobbered chin; but he didn’t mind. Having yet to avert his strong eye-contact, Tae arched his back further to really press against his husband, having fun teasing the hell out of him.

“Mmm~..” Taehyung’s lips were past Jungkook’s tattooed knuckles, sucking roughly on the latter’s fingers as if it was the younger’s cock tucked in between his cheeks.

Jungkook's normally strong facade of stoism struggled to remain intact right at this moment. Too many things went on, from Tae's ever so piercing gaze, the way his tongue lapped at the younger's fingers, and last but definitely not fucking least; his plump ass grinding against Kook's aching cock. It was too much, and it had been way too long. Jungkook didn't care anymore, his expression morphing into that of pure admiration and lust for his husband, gawking like a dumbass at the show he did so kindly ask for.

"Fuck, that's hot... you're so fucking hot, puppy." He growled lowly, almost frustrated at how Taehyung was allowed to be this gorgeous. It should be illegal. Kook watched the elder work his fingers for a short moment before he had enough, withdrawing his hand to harshly smack his husband's ass. "You're too sexy, it drives me fucking crazy.." Another smack, this time keeping his palm on his ass before squeezing it hard between his fingers, spreading the cheek to grant himself better access to grind his tip against the lightly gaped hole. "Shit, look at this... All mine." Kook huffs under heavy breaths, panning camera down Taehyung's prominent cleavage of his spine runs down his back, until the lens settled on where the head of Jungkook's length prodded at Tae's entrance.

"Move backwards baby, fuck yourself on my cock." Jungkook commands, loud enough to clearly capture his voice in the recording-- knowing Taehyung will love looking back and hearing these specific words.

Taehyung’s body jolted forward with every firm, jaw-clenching slap to his ass; his cheek grew tender the more Jungkook’s palm came in contact with the agitated skin, leaving behind a noticeable outline of his hand to linger for days on end. If the video didn’t serve as enough of a reminder, the sting sure as hell will. The elder was on the brink of crying out loud, having to bite down on his lip to prevent himself from screaming Jungkook’s name.

“Feels so good..” Taehyung sank back until the slick head of Jungkook’s cock popped through the gateway to his familiar insides, instantly clenching down on his husband’s skin as a warm greeting. “Fuck, fuck... so big, daddy.” Moving backwards until he nudged Kook’s pelvis, Tae took a minute to adjust to the length, muttering filthy curses under his heated breath. “Is that tight enough for you, hm? You’re so hard inside of me, ahh..” Once he deemed himself ready, Taehyung slowly began fucking himself on Jungkook’s cock, stopping at the tip before he plopped back in with more force, wiggling his hips against Kook before repeating the action. “So hard, I can feel you twitching, Koo..”

"Ah, fuck-- Taehyung..." Jungkook doesn't hold back letting his husband know how good his ass feels. He runs his flat palm down the prominent line on Tae's back where his spine hides, keeping his hips still for a moment to allow the elder to fuck himself on his cock. Kook keeps the camera focused on the way his slick length disappears inside the stretched hole, in awe of the view through the screen. "So tight, you're so fucking tight-- good god... How could I ever get enough of this?" He hisses through his ragged breath. When satisfied with the good work Taehyung put into getting himself used to Kook's size, the younger decides that it's time to reward his lover.

With a rough snap of his hips, Jungkook thrusts forward to meet Tae's ass as it moved back against him, the loud echo of their skin slapping together drawing a guttural moan from the tattooed male.

"You're such a good boy for me." He redirects the camera back towards the reflection to capture Taehyung's jolting body as he began to build a momentum to the way he fucked into him, slow but rhythmical, forceful but precise. "Aren't you? My little good boy?"

A loud, unavoidable gasp left past Taehyung’s loose lips as he hunched over the sink, toes tightly curled in his shoes as one of his many reactions to Jungkook’s quickened thrust. His hands were balled up into fists; forearms resting on each side of the sink whilst he arched his ass further back. “Y-your good boy, yes,” the elder rasped out, voice as thin as ice, and tone as unstable as his legs while Jungkook fucked him. “Hngh.. I love you, fuck me harder.”

If harder was what Taehyung wanted, Jungkook was in no position to deny his wishes. He knows just how whipped the elder was for his muscles, and the endless hours spent building and maintaining them surely didn't go unnoticed by his husband. Rather the opposite, Kook loved the attention-- ever since they were younger, the elder seemed to have a special fascination towards the strength Jungkook possessed. He allows his body to serve as a response to Taehyung's request, the hand on his hip digging harder into his tanned skin, holding him in place as the younger increases the force of his thrusts, at first dragging his entire length in and out to ensure that every single inch of Tae's insides feels the friction of being filled to the brim.

"Oh my god.." Jungkook huffs out, throwing his head back, screwing his eyes shut in rapture as he pounds mindlessly, focusing only on how good it feels right at this moment to just fuck his husband dumb. The phone in his hand became less of a priority at this point, shaky and blurred, however it captured every wet sound of their bodies joining, every breathy grunt, and every single squeak of the sink as Kook's powerful hips jerked Taehyung's body forward roughly.

The gnawing weight of a hundred curse-words on Taehyung’s tongue never subsided. Every invasive jerk of his husband’s quick hips made him want to scream out in rapture; to sob from the overwhelming feeling of Jungkook’s rigid cock entering him over and over again until he was so fucked out that his eyes no longer saw the faded blue-wash of the tiles on the spinning bathroom wall.

Taehyung fuckin’ loved that. He felt as if he was floating on cloud nine; as if he was reliving his brief encounter with drugs when he was a young teen. His husband’s fucking was a heavy drug, there was never a time where Taehyung didn’t enjoy the high it gave him.

“I love it when you put me in my place, hmph!” Tae’s voice was sultry— breathy. Still as deep, but far more hitched. Every menacing smack of Jungkook’s pelvis against his rosy skin stole his breath away, gasps getting caught in the man’s throat before they were reduced to soft mewls. “F-fuck, daddy’s fat cock never disappoints..” The elder straightened his spine, caramel shoulder blades flexed as he depended on his weak arms to keep him in place. Taehyung stared at Kook’s diverse expressions through the mirror; internally praising himself. Moaning, one of his arms blindly reached backwards until his hand groped Jungkook’s ass, feeling the muscles twitch with every thrust. He tipped his head back against Kook’s shoulder, turning his head until Taehyung could smell the odor of built-up sweat on the small dip of Jungkook’s pale skin.

His back remained lightly arched, driven forward from every slam to his wet insides. “Ah, fuck.. yes, daddy!” The elder’s nose was burrowed in the crook of Kook’s neck, brows twitching slightly as a sudden warmth approached his lower stomach.

"Love when you call me daddy." Jungkook breathes out his words in a haste, grunts following with every thrust, smacking his pelvis against Taehyung's plump ass to feel it jiggle against him. He snakes one strong arm around his husband's torso, the one holding the cellphone to angle it back to film the reflection, as the other keeps a tight grip on his hip to ensure his lover doesn't fly forward from the rough effort he puts into every sloppy thrust.

"You're so fucking gorgeous, baby. Look at your pretty, big cock--fuck.." Kook couldn't look away from the view in the mirror, the elder's body was erotic in this position, skin glistening with sweat, cock swollen and red, looking as if it was about to burst at any second with how well Kook fucked into him.

"A-are you close? God, I'm gonna cum... fill your ass up so well, I want you to hold it in until we get home, okay?" Jungkook nudges the elder's cheek with his nose to bring them face to face. "Kiss me, wanna taste your pretty moans as you cum."

Taehyung enthusiastically attached his touch-starved lips to Jungkook’s smaller, sweeter ones. His warm hand extended upwards to eagerly cup his husband’s face, the pad of his thumb swiping across the younger’s scar whilst he deepened their messy kiss, low hums of approval ringing from profound in his rising chest. His squirming body jolted forward with more force, the ability to withstand Jungkook’s irregular thrusts slowly drained out of him, leaving Taehyung frail to every insignificant nudge.

“G-Gonna cum.. gonna cum so much..!” The elder leaned in once more, unable to take the empty feeling in his mouth. He generously sucked on Jungkook’s tongue, their drool running past his chin and slowly cascading down Taehyung’s neck, illuminating the way his Adam’s apple would bob with every forceful swallow. His husband’s spit was so warm. It was like medicine to his drained throat.. There came a time where Tae’s breathing was getting scarce; he pulled away with a soft gasp. His curtained eyes were glazed with fresh tears, vision blurry as he looked down at his swollen dick and the way it hit against the sink’s cooling edge.

So close..

“F-fuuck! Oh.. hngh, daddy, I’m gonna— A-aahh— ah.. hmm!” His high-pitched moans were muffled against Jungkook’s slick lips, mouth unmoving as Taehyung focused on giving his husband every drop of his filthy sounds.

He stayed still for a few seconds, twitching against Jungkook’s larger body, whining whilst his eyes fluttered shut.

“Fuck... I’m hungry.”

#fic: dining out #taekook smut #vkook smut #jungkook x taehyung #bts mxm #bts mxm smut #mxm smut #dom jungkook #sub taehyung #taehyung smut #jungkook smut #boymeetsmxm #bangtanarmynet #sombreboy

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nautiscarader · 3 years

Text

Nautiscarader’s Wendip Week day 3: Prank War

geez, this one took a while. I apologise, and let’s hope next one will arrive faster

(ao3)

============

Someone standing outside of The Mystery Shack might have thought that the living room contained a very predictable lighting bug, or at least that someone inside was broadcasting a rather boring Morse code message using light signals.

In reality, it was just Wendy and Dipper, slouched on the sofa, surfing TV channels, giving each of them at most three seconds to entertain their bored minds. So far, none of them stood up to the challenge.

But as Wendy continued the only physical activity she had the energy for, i.e. pressing one button, something finally caught their attention.

- "What's up everyone? It's your boy, the Prankster Prancer!"

A loud, obnoxious, blonde man in his twenties, wearing spiky, gelled hair rode into the shot on a fake unicorn, face-hugged the camera, filling the wide-angle lens and made both Dipper and Wendy jump in their seats as loud horn noise shook the air around them.

- Wait, I thought this guy was only on the internet! - Wendy raised her brow - Did he escape to the real world?! - Come on, who in the right mind would give him a show? - "So, first of all, thanks to our station, The Cheese Network, for giving me the chance to entertain you guys..."

Dipper and Wendy groaned in collective understanding.

- "...and for giving us some cheese to pay for our last week's prank!"

The screen dimmed and the camera changed to an aerial shot, containing not only fires and flood, but also several military helicopters.

- "So last time we did some EPIC prank during the gender reveal party and we've made a hole in the ozone hole!"

The man made extra effort to extend every vowel in the last word, to an equally obnoxious collection of sound effects.

- Wow. That looks... bad. Even by our standards. - Wendy watched the footage. - Yeah. Good thing this dude stays away from us. - "And now it's time to reveal the next place for our EPIC PRANK!"

The man took a baseball bat and unceremoniously smashed the unicorn doll in half, and stuck his hand in the fake guts, revealing an envelope.

- "And this one is a suggestion from my top commentator on-line, that girl leaves comments under every single one of my videos, so I could not ignore her request".

The envelope was opened, and suddenly, a girl's voice began reading it.

- "Dear Prankster Prancer. I love your videos, and how creative your calamity can be..." - Wait a minute - Dipper sat up, as his eyes widened in horror - Is that- - "My name is Mabel Pines, and I am staying in a small town called Gravity Falls, in Oregon...".

Dipper and Wendy looked at each other and understood each other at once.

- Barricade the doors!

But it was too late. As Dipper ran towards the lobby, the door were smashed to the ground, seemingly under the power of the air horns, and flooded the Shack with lights. The same blonde man walked inside, as if he owned the place, leading with him Mabel Pines.

- What's up birches? Is that how you call people living in the middle of a forest? - he shoved his face to the camera again. - More like, in the middle of nowhere! - Mabel added, high-five'ing him - Thankfully, me and my Prankster Protégé are gonna rock this place! - he shouted.

Dipper Pines stood up and cleaned himself from the dust and debris, watching as the two rock their heads to some aggressive tune.

- Hold on a minute! Mabel, why did you invite him here? If anything, there's too much going around in here! - Ugh, this is my little brother, Dipper. - Mabel rolled her eyes - I'm-I'm not little! - Dipper stomped in place - We're twins!

Somewhere behind him, Wendy snickered.

- What, you just look adorable when you're angry.

Dipper turned back and stormed towards his sister.

- Mabel, do you have amnesia or something? Gravity Falls is full of amazing things! We've been on treasure hunts, found all sorts of monsters in every lake, glade and a cave... You wanted to date a zombie on out first day here! - Yeah, sure, kid, as if I could just walk into a forest and find a dead body... - the Prankster took a sip of soda, looking somewhat nervously. - Mabel, we've seen living dinosaurs here! - Yeah, like I can see one now!

The Prankster pointed to the kitchen and very confused Grunkle Stan in his pajamas.

- What in the DMV is going on here? - Check this out, a living fossil!

The Prankster jumped towards Grunkle Stan and unceremoniously took a selfie with him.

- Oh no, my eyes! The light is coming towards me instead of the other way around!

Stan cried when flash of light blinded him, and with a sleigh of hand, the blonde man undid his belt, causing Stan to nearly trip and fall, if it wasn't for Wendy.

- Hey, you! You're not a prankster, you're a jerk!

At the sound of those words, the man stopped laughing and turned his attention, as well as cameras, towards Wendy.

- What's that? We've got ourselves a HATER!

An air horn was about to blow her hat off, but Wendy swiftly grabbed it and twisted it.

- Yeah, that's what I've said, you're a jerk. I like pranking people, but not to hurt them. - And watchu gonna do, leave a mean comment? - No, we're gonna prank you. - Wendy reached and brought Dipper towards her. - Cos we've done some pranking together ourselves! - Like what? - Like... when we've made our friend think his inflatable tube could talk!

The Prankster shot them with a dead stare.

- You know what, I don't even have time to play the "wah-wah" soundbite. But if you want to lose, your call. Tomorrow, we're gonna get an EPIC PRANK-OFF!

And he shot a pose in front of the camera.

- Right, now tell me where's someplace to eat. And they better have unlimited refills. - Lazy Susan is neat. And there's water tower nearby...

And with that, he and Mabel walked off, leaving the small destruction behind them.

- Wendy! - Dipper turned at once towards her - Are you crazy? He has entire film crew! And money! And very little empathy! He's gonna plough through us! - Chill out, man, we're gonna trick him, one way or another.

And she gently smacked the edge of his hat.

- Er, I know you guys like to babble all the time, but I still can't get up. - Grunkle Stan grumbled from the floor.

=============

The next day, Wendy woke up at the break of dawn with unbridled optimism. Dipper less so, and he was a bit nervous when Wendy gathered him and her crew in the small lumberjack shack in the woods to explain the plan of action.

- So, any questions? - she asked

At the same time, every teenager in the small room raised hands.

- So, how does exactly the can of whipped cream is supposed to work with the rake? - Tambry asked - And what do we have to do with the rat-shaped balloons? - Thompson asked shyly. - And can't we just... punch him? - Robbie suggested, mimicking the action. - Ugh, you guys!

Wendy groaned and hid her face in her hands. hearing the murmurs of doubt across the room, Dipper quickly stood up and continued.

- Guys, this jerk is giving us, pranksters, a bad name! We gotta prank him in a way that shows we are better... Because we can do better!

He watched as faces of the older teenagers brighten with his speech. Several of them even smiled.

- Plus he could, like, sue us for millions of dollars, so we gotta stay clean.

With newly gained optimism, the gang rushed to Thompson's van and readied themselves for the prank.

- Thanks, man, for giving me a hand. - Wendy suddenly patted Dipper's back. - Oh, no-no problem. - Dipper spoke, wondering if she noticed his blush.

=========

- Alright, we're all in places.

Wendy spoke to her phone, and observed the places, leaning from behind the wall. Her eyes moved from Robbie, hidden in the abandoned ice-cream stall, to Thompson, on top of a tree, to Tambry, pretending to read a large newspaper, and finally, to Dipper, holding a bag of provisions.

- We-Wendy, I'm not sure if this is gonna work. - Now!

She commanded, as Prankster walked nonchalantly out of the store. He thre away the half-eaten sandwich he just bought and was about to walk into the string that would have activate the whipped cream... if he didn't make a sudden jump.

He then threw something into the stall.

- Oh, crap, it's a grenade!

Robbie stormed out, tripping on the same wire he helped setting up, which resulted in his black hair covered in white goo and sprinkles.

Tambry was supposed attack next, but Prankester was already next to her. He took a bucket of soapy water and dumped it over her, destroying her diguise that covered her pruple hair.

For Thompson, he didn't even have to do much - he threw a mouse toy into the air, and listened how the boy tumbles down, shrieking.

And finally, he took something big and colourful out of his backpack and tossed it onto the street, watching as Dipper and Wendy rush towards it.

- Limited edition Giraffeoala!

They realised the two were after it when it was too late. Their heads collided with each other, just as the elusive plushie was yanked from their hands, back into his bag.

- Seriously, guys? You wanted to outsmart me? There like five of you and you couldn't do it. - Ha! That was a good one! - Mabel emerged from behind his back and did another high-five. - But I couldn't do it without you. - he pointed at her. - Me? But I didn't do anything... - Of course you did.

The Prankster lowered his sunglasses.

- Last evening at that stupid bar. You told me you were friends with everyone here. You told me how one of them likes gloomy, dark places. Like another one is afraid of mice. Like another one never looks away from her phone...

Mabel's ecstatic, radiant smile faded with each word the Prankster spoke, and her eyes, widened from excitation began to fill with tears.

- And, well, you told me what these two dorks are obsessed about... amongst other things. - Mabel! - Wendy and Dipper cried at the same time. - But-But I didn't... - Aw, really? You feel sad for them? LAME. - he pushed her aside and waved for his crew that followed him anyway.

For quite a while, all the small town could hear was Mabel Pines sobbing, until someone closed his arms around her.

- There, there, sis. - Dipper spoke quietly. - I guess you see why were so angry now. - I-I didn't know he would...

Dipper hugged her, letting her cry as much as she wants into his vest.

- It's not your fault, Mabel. - Wendy added, taking a knee and gently patting her. - But-But it is! - Well... Kinda... - Robbie added, and received a cold, piercing stare from Wendy. - Jerks like that like to... use people. And they know that the best ones are those, who are most trusting and kind.

Mabel's sniffing stopped, as Wendy continued.

- But you know what? - Dipper spoke suddenly - I think I got an idea...

He let go of his sister rushed to the Prankster, sitting on one of the toy unicorns, tossing quarter after quarter, while two children in queue began to tear up.

- Hey, you! - Ugh, you again, twerp. What, want me to reveal more secrets about you and your stupid hobbies? Or, like, who is your biggest crush after a toy plushie from the 90s?

Dipper's face reddened, but he remained unperturbed.

- We're not done yet. Tomorrow we're gonna prank you for good. Double or nothing! - Ugh, sure, fine. - the Prankster didn't even look at him - It's not like I can do anything until my lawyers clean up the whole "gender reveal party" fiasco. Like, who cares if the whole state is now inhabitable for life?

==============

By the next morning, the battleground was set. Cameras and tons of equipment surrounded the small grassy meadow in front of the Mystery Shack, where Dipper and Wendy were sitting in their chairs with their arms crossed, both wearing much more confident smiles. And the fact that Mabel was with them added them extra layer of morale.

When the clock struck 12, a mighty roar shook the place, as monster truck drove from behind the tree line, smoking and setting nearby branches on fire. The Prankster Prancer jumped out of it, and, drowned in the flashes of cameras, walked into his place.

- So, are you twerps ready for the FINAL PRANK OF YOUR LIFE? - he roared into the microphone, rolling his tongue back and forth as if he was about to eat it. - Nah, we're not gonna prank you. - Wendy shrugged - But someone else will.

The newly reinstalled door to the Mystery Shack opened, and a new figure appeared. An elderly woman walked out, being led by Grunkle Stan that gallantly helped her, for once not sneaking his hand into her purse.

And when she looked up from behind her glasses, the confident smile on Prancer's face disappeared at once.

- Grandma?! What-What are you doing here?! - Oh, don't you know? - Grunkle Stan rushed with explanation - We, old folks, all know each other. And I simply couldn't let her miss her grandson's grand day! - I'm so glad I can see you, Archibald!

The elderly lady used her cane to hook him by his neck and brought him into his arms, despite his best efforts to avoid any interactions.

- G-Grandma, don't- don't call me that! - Why not? - she continued, seemingly ignoring her grandson efforts to escape her tight hug. - I am your grandma, and I will call you by your full name, Archibald Roderick Sebastian Eugene!

Somewhere behind them, Dipper, Wendy and Mabel were having the time of their life, trying to hide their laughter.

- So, wait, his initials literally make him an... - Grandma! Make them stop! They-they are laughing at me! - Nonsense! Those young folks told me all your fans would love to see me talk about you. So I've send them some photos via the eclectic mail!

The blonde man looked to the side at Wendy and Dipper's faces. Their wide smiles told him everything, and in the act of ultimate desperation, he gently shook his head, silently mouthing his plea. He then looked at Mabel's, but hers was filled with spite.

In response, Mabel simply pressed a button.

The enormous screen behind them lit up, showing an adorable newborn blonde boy in diaper, giggling at the baby rattle.

Several more followed, showing his equally naked body in progressively embarrassing positions.

The screen changed, and the same boy was now three-years old, wearing a strict haircut as well as a bowtie. And the worst part was, he looked happy.

The Prankster Prancer fell to his knees, as tears began rolling from his eyes, which his grandma quickly dried with her handkerchief.

- Oh, yes, I do tear up a little at this one too. Oh, but the next one makes me so proud!

Prancer's eyes widen, if possibly even more, and throwing away all the pretence, he rushed to Wendy and Dipper and began begging them for mercy. But it was for nothing. He knew they have seen the photo already.

And with another press of a button, a seven-year old Prancer was shown, wearing a blue cardigan, sitting in an armchair with a big book in his hands, smiling at the camera, proudly showing his braces.

The scanned photo displayed a title, written in crayon over it.

"I love school!"

Flocks of birds flew into the air from the nearby trees in response to the shriek that reverberated the air, full of remorse, despair, and unmistakably, defeat.

- Nooooo!

The Prancer hit the ground with his fists, for which he was quickly reprimanded by his grandma ("You're going to make them dirty!"), while Wendy and Dipper high-fived each other, before giving Mabel a warm hug.

=============

- So I guess that will teach him? - Dipper asked Wendy as the two lay on the sofa, flicking through the channels again. - Pfh. I wish it did. - Wendy reached for her phone and showed Dipper a familiar blonde man waving his arms uncontrollably. - "What's up Prankster Pros? It's ya boy, and I've got this sweet book deal full of my MOST EMBARASSING photos! Look at that baby bottom! Only for $99.99..." - Geez, I guess they never learn. - Nope. But at least he's not here...

For a while the room dimmed every few seconds, as Wendy searched for anything interesting, but something else was on Dipper's mind.

- So... about those Cuddle Buddies...

The remote fell out of Wendy's hand.

- Uh, yeah, so, I just...

She shied away and mumbled her answer, until she saw a polite smile on Dipper's face.

- So, like, remember ever since you wanted to win that Duck Panda for me? I... kinda got into them, you know. Not like, obsessively collecting them, but... you know. - Yeah, I do. For cuddling.

The two looked at each other and exchanged the same, warm smiles.

- So which generation you like the most? - Well, gen 2 obviously - she rolled her eyes - What? Five is the best. - The best as sucking, perhaps. - Come on, they had changed the lead designer and everything, but they're still Cuddle Buddies...

For quite a while, the channel stayed on, as neither of them bother to change it. And when the night fell on, Wendy and Dipper realised that they might have discovered something new to talk about.

#nautiscaraderfics #wendipweek #wendip week #wendip #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #gravity falls #prank war

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the-lazyyy-artist · 3 years

Text

And So It Goes...

A/N: Hello I am back. Gahd, I had a rough week last week so might as well post the second chapter today. I hope you like it! Also, more Crispin and Basilio wingmen moments hfhdjd

CHAPTERS:

Chapter One: Kaibigan o Pag-ibig?

✨✨✨

CHAPTER TWO: Isang Tingin Mo lang

Before the sun rose, everyone met up at the Trese residence, ready for the trip. The twins helped them placed their bags at the back of the van. Once done, Hank closed the compartment of the van, and made his way to the driver’s seat. “Come on, slowpokes, let’s go!” Amie and Hannah got inside the van, then the twins. By the time Elena got into the van, Crispin was already beside Hannah, and beside him was Mal, and Basilio and Amie were sitting together with the bags beside them. “Elena!” Hannah called her, breaking her train of panicking thoughts. “Let’s go! We’re gonna be late to our summer vacation! The beach awaits us!” Elena sighed, and cautiously settled down beside Dominic, who was staring out the window. It was funny, honestly, that their only interaction was when he showed her around the campus. After that, they never looked at each other, nor spoken a word.

During the whole trip, everyone in the van already took pictures with every possible angle and pose, jammed to the songs played on the stereo, despite it being Hank’s favorites, and discussed the activities for the day. Elena of course joined at the conversation, and Dominic would nod every now and then, but the tense atmosphere was still present in between them. In the middle of the journey, most of them snoozed off, reserving their energy for the day. Elena plugged her earphones on her phone, and started to sleep. Dominic was the only one awake at the back of the van, still looking out the window. He can’t stand the fact that Elena was beside him, and he didn’t do anything nor talk to her. When he noticed that Elena’s head was falling off the head rest of the seat, he slowly pushed her head towards his shoulder.

The van came to a stop, and it awoken most of them. “We’re here!” Amie yelled, waking the rest of the group. Dominic perked his head up, and saw the group hopped off the van. He then looked at Elena, still sleeping. He gently shook her to wake her up, and her eyes fluttered open. Elena lifted her head, only to meet Dominic’s eyes, staring at her. “Ah, hey, Dom. I’m sorry if I fell asleep on your shoulder,” she quickly apologized, turning red in the process. Dominic smiled at her, and replied, “It’s alright, Lena.” Once they both got out of the van, Elena quickly ran towards Basilio. “Bas, I need to tell you something!” Basilio, who was still taking out the bags from the back of the van, chuckled. “What? You’re thirsty again?” He teased. Elena punched his arm and groaned. “Alright, alright, what is it?” He asked, taking out the last bag from the van and closing the compartment. Elena swung her bag on her shoulder, and they started to follow the others towards the resort. “Dominic smiled at me for the first time!” Elena said softly, still high on the idea that it actually happened. “Dom always smiles at you, you just don’t notice it.” Basilio replied, placing the bags on the floor. Alexandra was talking to the person behind the desk, while the others were taking selfies on every corner of the lobby. “You know I’m shy around him, that’s why I never notice the stuff that you notice,” she said. Just when Basilio was about to reply, he heard Hank calling his name, as well as the other guys’ names. “We’ll be in the same room, so you better watch your move around me,” Hank said as he led the way to their room. “I’ll chat you once we’re in the room,” Basilio whispered, and then walked away. “Alright, us girls will be in one room. Let’s go?” Alexandra said. Amie and Hannah squealed, excitedly discussing which swimwear to wear for today.

Elena walked out of the bathroom with her skin tone one-piece swimwear, and Amie gasped at the sighed of her. “You look amazing! Oh my god, I love how it fits you perfectly!” she squealed, hugging Elena. Elena laughed, and looked down on herself. “Well, it does look great. My flaws are overly exposed though, but the cover up would look great on this,” Elena replied, wrapping the cover up skirt around her waist.

Once everyone was done preparing with a ton of sunblock on their skin and big sunglasses on their eyes, they all met up on the resort’s lobby. Mal whistled at the sight of the girls approaching them, and Amie and Hannah certainly loved the attention. “So, what do you think, boys?” Hannah asked, posing in front of them. “You all look hot, especially Elena. What a transformation, babe!” Mal replied, fixing his gaze on Elena, who was already hiding her blushing face. “Thank you, Mal,” Elena replied. “Yeah, better enjoy looking at us while it lasts,” Amie added, giggling with Hannah. First activity on the list: island hopping and snorkeling. While on the boat, the girls were busy posing while the twins took their photos. “Come on, Elena, it’s your turn!” Amie called out. Elena smiled and politely shook her head. “Seriously, guys, I would be okay if we were in a group photo. I just think I don’t look great in a solo picture,” she said. Mal then laughed, and looked at Elena. “Nonsense, Lena. You look stunning in solo pictures. I still remember asking you to pose during the campus’ foundation day,” Mal said, scrolling through his phone. Once he found what he was looking for, he showed everyone the shot he was talking about. It was Elena in her college department shirt, smiling at the camera. “You’re right, Mal,” Crispin agreed, “Elena looks like she could charm everyone around her.” Everyone on the boat agreed, and Elena raised her hands, surrendering. “Alright, I give up. I’ll have my photos taken on this boat and everywhere if that makes all of you happy.” Amie and Hannah cheered, and Mal then raised his hand, silencing them. “I’ll take your photos, Elena. I’ll make you look amazing, babe,” Mal said, winking at her.

After the whole morning of harmless flirting, swimming, eating, and a hundred photos taken, the group decided to lounge around in their respective hotel rooms. The boys finally lied down on their beds after cleaning up, watching whatever was on the TV. “Hey Mal, you better be careful with flirting,” Dominic said out of the blue, silencing everyone in the room. “Why?” Mal asked. Dom shook his head, and smirked at him. “Just warning you,” he replied. Hank then groaned. “You teenagers and your warnings. When I was your age, I was a chick magnet. Everyone loved my style,” Hank boasted. Crispin was already holding back his laugh, and being his twin, Basilio replied, “Oh, they must’ve really loved your durian scented perfume.” The boys laughed at the remark, and Hank threw a pillow at the younger twin, annoyed.

Everyone met at the resort’s restaurant that evening. There was a seafood dinner buffet in the resort, and it was definitely a time to actually relax. Not only that, there will be unlimited beer, which Hank loved a lot. “Oh, good thing we’re all above the legal drinking age. We’ll definitely get drunk tonight!” Basilio cheered. They found a table that would fit everyone and they all lined up for the buffet. Laughing, singing, constant glancing from across the table, more flirting, and then happy hour came. When the singer on staged asked for a jammer, Crispin immediately made his way to the small stage. “Alright, our second jammer for tonight’s happy hour!” The singer said, gaining a cheer from the group. “What’s your name?” the singer asked, pointing the mic at Cris. “Crispin, but you can call me baby,” he replied, winking at her. The singer laughed at his remark. “Okay, that was smooth! What will you be singing tonight?” Crispin took the mic from the singer, and pointed at the group. “I know that someone likes someone in my barkada, and this song is for you so that you’ll get out of your shell and actually admit what you feel!” Everyone in their table cheered, and Elena’s cheeks reddened. Dominic lowered his head, and groaned at the Crispin’s stupidity. “It’s time, my dude. This is Kailan.” The guitarist played the intro on his guitar, and Crispin was thankful that the mic was wireless. As he sang the first verse of the song, he slowly walked towards the table. The gang was waving their hands in the air, even Hank who was enjoying everything because of the free beer.

“Kailan, kailan mo ba mapapansin ang aking lihim…” Cris sang, as he swung his arm around Dominic, who was frowning and blushing so hard. Then, Cris looked at Elena, who was also blushing. “Kahit ano’ng aking gawin, ‘di mo pa rin pansin…” Elena looked at Basilio, and he just nodded at her. “Come on, Dominic Villaceran, go get the girl!” Crispin yelled. Elena really doesn’t know how to decide at this point. Maybe because of the alcohol and the overwhelming feeling she has in her guts. She stood up, and everyone looked at her. Hannah and Amie were squealing again in the background, while Basilio was already recording the whole thing.

“Dominic Villaceran!” Elena called out loudly, and Dom looked up at her, confused. Elena looked at everyone in their table, and she took a deep breath. “I like you! I like you so much since the day I met you!” At this point, everyone was cheering, and Amie was already hugging her and congratulating her for being brave. She doesn’t seem to care if everyone already knew about her secret crush. Dominic, on the other hand, was still staring at Elena. He did hear that, right? That Elena actually likes him? Mal gave Dom a pat on the back, and told him to go get her, but before he could even move, Elena was already walking away from them, entering the resort.

Alexandra entered their hotel room, and saw Elena on their bed. “Lena?” Alex said softly, placing a hand on her back. Elena quickly wiped away her tear, and faced her Ate. “Ate Alex. What are you doing here?” she asked, sitting up. Alexandra tilted her head, and fixed Elena’s hair. “You were really brave out there. You should’ve seen Dominic’s face,” Alex chuckled, and Elena sighed at the thought. “Well, I did. He seems uninterested. He was just staring. I told myself that I’ll make a move this summer, but I didn’t expect it to be this disappointing,” Elena said. The whole event just made her want to go home. Alex scooted in and wrapped Elena in an embrace. “I know this is still embarrassing for both of you. Believe me, I’ve been through it, but let’s just treat it as a bad dream for now and enjoy our vacation, okay? I’m here whenever you need some girl talk.”

✨✨✨

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prayedtoyou · 4 years

Text

overrated - read it on ao3

<< when you get home, will you help me with a project?

>> sure thing. i have to stop by the gas station on my way back, want anything?

<< yeah, grab me some of those chocolate covered raisins that i like

>> you got it. see you in 15

Dean had plans to go home after his three classes of the day to watch Netflix with his hand in his pants and eat pepper jack Cheez-Its until his stomach hurt, but he supposes it wouldn’t hurt to cancel those plans to help out his roommate for a few hours. Dean doesn’t often interrupt plans with himself, especially on a day where he doesn’t have any homework and he doesn’t have to show up for a shift at the salvage yard, but Cas is someone Dean doesn’t mind giving up a few luxuries for.

Dean met Cas in their Design 101 class during freshman year. It was nothing more than a foundation class, one that Dean and Cas had to take in pursuit of their BFA degrees in film and television, and photography, respectively. Dean expected to jack off to the course by flirting with the fellow classmates while still paying just enough attention to pass the class and turn in projects and assignments on time, but when Cas started sitting next to him in the third week of the semester and heckled him about listening to the professor and taking better notes, Dean really started to buckle down and take it a little more seriously.

They’ve been friends ever since. They had late night study sessions during their first year when they were only an elevator ride away from each other’s dorm rooms. Their first college summer was mostly spent at the Biggerson’s just off SCAD’s campus where Cas served tables; Dean would come in to bother him, drink coffee, and take advantage of the free WiFi. They found an apartment they could barely afford just south of the metro area and moved in a week before the new school year started. They still have that same apartment.

This was to Charlie’s disappointment, at first. She had suggested moving in together before Cas had and Dean had been on the fence about it. He loved Charlie, they got along, she understood his nerdy references, they had similar taste in women--but he had been holding out for another photography major to make his move. She quickly forgave him when she met and later moved in with her girlfriend, Dorothy.

There was just something about Cas that set him apart from Dean’s other friends. It might have to do with how passionate Cas was about his classes and major; since sixth grade, he’s known that he would grow up to be a photographer for National Geographic so he could travel the world and take pictures of all his favorite creatures. Or it might have to do with his sense of humor--a little dark and always just flirtatious enough to make Dean wonder just how serious he is and whether or not he should laugh or take him up on his offers.

More than likely, though, it has to do with how attractive he is, how his smile is so bright it puts the sun to shame, how his laugh makes Dean’s heart swell up like a helium balloon, how he’s intelligent and eloquent, but also absolutely clueless about a lot of stuff Dean considers to be required life knowledge. Does most of that knowledge revolve around Star Wars, Back to the Future, and Indiana Jones movie references? Yes, but that’s beside the point.

And that’s what led Dean to living with the guy for going on three years, to spending entire days dedicated to showing Cas his favorite movies and shows, to picking up dark chocolate Raisinets on his way home from school, to walking into their apartment and calling out Cas’s name just like Ricky Ricardo.

Cas shouts back from the opposite side of the apartment where their bedrooms are. Dean finds Cas in his room, furniture pushed away from one wall and replaced with Cas’s favorite reading chair from the living room (that old, forest-green armchair that Cas found at an antique store on the Savannah River that Dean verbally hated, but secretly used when Cas wasn’t around because it’s about the most comfortable thing in the world), and a camera set up on a tripod facing the chair. Cas is wearing that white button down that looks especially good against the tan he got over the summer, the one that matches Dean’s after they spent several long days on Tybee Island right before their senior year started.

“So, what’s the project?” Dean asks, handing over the box of Raisinets. He curses at himself for forgetting to get a snack of his own while he was out.

Cas takes the box with a smile. “Thanks, Dean. This one is based on touch and what emotions it brings out in us, but we can’t have more than one subject in the shot. So, I need you to put this on.” Cas reaches out and drops a small black object into Dean’s palm.

It’s… a tube of lipstick.

“Uh, Cas? I thought we’ve established that I’m not really much of a model.”

Cas rolls his eyes, no doubt remembering the arguments they had on the river walk during their second year when Cas tried to shoot Dean for an assignment that ended up with them deciding that Dean would stick with filming and Cas would recruit performing arts majors to be his models. “I know, I'm not taking pictures of you, you’re taking pictures of me. I already have the camera focused and everything, you just need to put that on, give me a few kisses, and snap some pictures.”

Dean’s brain short-circuits. “K-kisses?”

“Yeah. I’m using lipstick kisses to represent my past relationships and how I feel about them touching me. Just cheek and forehead kisses. We’re not going to be Frenching or anything.”

“Oh.” Dean looks down at the lipstick, caught somewhere between disappointment and relief, wondering if it would be better or worse if these kisses were meant for Cas’s lips instead of the rest of his face. Would it even be right of him to take Cas up on this offer when he already fantasizes about putting kisses all over Cas’s skin? Would it be wrong for their first kisses to be over some project? “I don’t know how I feel about this, Cas.”

“About what, kissing me? They’re not even real kisses, you just have to pucker up like you're kissing your mom.”

Dean chews on his lip. Would it be so bad to take advantage of the situation and indulge in something he’s wanted since their second semester together? Shouldn’t he be a good friend and roommate and help Cas with his project, no matter the requirements?

Cas must see the uncertainty in Dean’s expression because he continues with, “Come on, Dean, we’re graduating next semester, we’re practically professionals. Are you really going to be embarrassed about a little lipstick when you could be filming HBO sex scenes a year from now?”

Dean looks back up at Cas. If he’s going to insist, who is Dean to tell him no? “Alright, asshole, I’ll do it. But you owe me.”

Cas smiles wide and, damn, Dean would wear lipstick every day if it meant Cas would look at him like that. “Okay, there’s a mirror behind you. It doesn’t have to be perfect, just put some on and lay it on me.”

Dean turns to find Cas’s mirror hung up with his portfolio. Photos are hung, tacked, and taped up from vacations, day trips, school projects, and family holidays. Dean is up there a few times: laughing on the opposite side of the table from Cas at Biggerson’s, a selfie of the two of them under the unflattering flash of a smartphone in a dark movie theater, the only good shot Cas got of Dean that day on the river walk, Dean asleep on the couch with a book folded up in his arms like a teddy bear.

Dean didn’t even know Cas took that last one.

He puts on the lipstick, ignoring the photos of himself. It’s definitely not as easy as he thought it would be--staying inside the lines was something he’s improved upon since childhood, but crayons are a lot different from makeup. He manages to swipe the color onto his face, grimacing at the taste of it.

When he looks back at Cas, all he gets is a blank stare and a slight nod. Feeling less than confident with deep red lips, Dean steps up to the plate.

“Where do you want it?”

Dean can hear the click of Cas’s throat as he swallows. He raises a hand, pointing to the knob of his left cheekbone.

“Here.”

Dean steps just a little closer. Cas is about his height, maybe an inch shorter, but it’s not even noticeable when Dean tilts Cas’s face up with a finger and thumb gently pinching his chin. He leans in and--smells Cas’s shampoo, notices the pores on his nose, finds trimmed whiskers along his cheeks--presses his lips right where Cas wanted them.

With the lipstick, Dean can’t taste Cas’s skin, but he can smell the face wash where his nose is sticking into Cas’s temple. Like pomegranates.

When he pulls away, he knows he’s blushing, but he has no way of hiding it, so he just smiles and says, “That’s a good color for you.”

Cas, a little pink himself, scoffs. “Just take the picture, Taylor Swift.”

Cas takes his seat, Dean steps behind the camera. He clicks the shutter button a few times, watching Cas’s face on the screen. He’s leaning his face up and slightly away, lips parted, eyes cast toward the door instead of the lense. It’s a great angle to show off that jawline of his.

Dean was never destined to be a model, but Cas looks just as good in photos as he does in real life. He knows exactly how to position himself, which light to use, how his face should look. He could model, if he ever wanted. Dean asked him if he would star in a short film Dean had to film, but Cas just laughed and said if he wanted to act he would have gone into performing arts.

“That should be enough,” Cas notes, and Dean realizes that he had taken way too many photos while thinking about Cas’s face. He backs away from the camera. “I’ll need a fresh layer for each kiss, so apply some more lipstick.”

Dean does as he’s told and goes back to Cas to kiss him again. This time it’s just above Cas’s right eyebrow. They go on like this a handful more times, until Cas has lipstick stains across his entire face. Each time feels like the first, and Dean has a harder and harder time removing his lips from Cas’s skin as they progress through the photos. Cas doesn’t seem to be as phased--he sits right down and assumes his pose. In each and every picture, Cas mostly just looks sad.

“Why do you look like that?” Dean finally asks after the sixth kiss, snapping pictures.

Cas unfurrows his brow and looks up from the floor. “Like what?”

“Like your dog just died.”

Cas cracks a small smile. “These kisses represent each of my exes and how I felt about my relationships with them.”

“They were all that bad?”

“They certainly weren’t good. After being cheated on, left for someone else, and dumped over text, I don’t exactly have fond memories of most of these people.”

“I remember when that dickhead Balth slept with that web designer. You didn’t leave the house for a week.”

“You took me to the Atlanta Aquarium and pointed at all the ugliest fish and said they looked like him.”

“And I was right. ”

When Cas smiles broadly, Dean sneaks in another picture. The shutter of the lense gives him away, but Cas doesn’t mention it.

“Remember when I watched 500 Days of Summer eight times in two days?” Cas asks. “That’s because Hannah kept telling me she didn’t want a relationship and ended up leaving me for someone who she got engaged to after five months.”

Dean chuckles low under his breath. “Yeah, I remember. I had to force you into the shower and then we went out for burgers.”

“And when Gadreel drunk texted me all the things he hated about me--”

“We toilet papered his frat house and went to a baseball game the next day. We got so sunburnt.”

Cas laughs at the memory and Dean captures it with the camera. He looks so much better like this, happy and covered in kisses from someone who actually cares about him. He deserves to be this happy for the rest of his life.

Cas sobers up and looks at Dean. His expression is soft, something closer to adoration than anything else. Dean wonders if he’s just amused by the makeup.

“You were always there for me, Dean.”

Since Dean can’t take a compliment to save his life, he shrugs it off. “I was just trying to be a good friend. You did the same for me when Lisa and I broke up.”

They go quiet for a moment. Dean reflects back on the two weeks after their break up. Dean was drinking daily, taking whiskey in a travel mug to his classes, going to bars at night, falling asleep on the couch with a bottle in his hands. It took Cas several tries to get him out of his rut, first by asking Dean what was wrong, then by requesting that he eat something solid, and finally by whacking him with his rolled up yoga mat until Dean cleaned himself up and changed into some fresh clothes.

Dean had grumbled about it for a few days, but it was just what he needed. He couldn’t mope around forever and fall into a pit of alcoholism just because his year-long girlfriend finally got fed up with his shit. Cas spent extra time with him that month, changing his schedule and cancelling plans to hang out or do homework in the same room as him, occasionally reaching out to lay a hand on Dean’s shoulder or knocking their feet together to remind him that he wasn’t alone. It helped tremendously.

The worst part wasn’t losing Lisa, it was coming to terms with everything he had been trying to deny since he was seventeen. His attraction to men was something he first noticed when a new kid came to his high school and he fell for the linebacker build and honey-sweet Cajun accent. But after dating women exclusively his whole life, the last thing he wanted was for Cas to feel like some sort of experiment.

“What happened? With Lisa. You never told me.”

Cas catches his eye, but Dean directs his gaze away quickly, suddenly finding the curves of the camera very interesting.

“I, um… I wasn’t very good to her. I was kind of using her to get past a crush I had on someone, but it didn’t go away and she said she couldn’t keep living like that. Like she was competing to be my girlfriend. I don’t blame her one bit, she was right to leave me. I just thought, if it was just a crush, it wouldn’t be a problem once I was with someone else, but when I couldn’t stop liking them…”

Dean chances a look at Cas, who looks just as sad as he had in those pictures. His eyes are wide and it almost looks comical with all the lipstick kisses on his face.

“I realized it was more than just some crush,” Dean finishes lamely.

Every part of him wants to tell Cas. But what would be the point? The two of them will graduate and Cas will become the next most famous National Geographic photographer and Dean will be looking for work as a camera holder on low budget movies and shows that may or may not be cancelled halfway through filming. He could always turn to porn as a last resort, but he'll never make it as far as Cas and he’ll never make it with Cas.

In the beginning, he didn’t want to ruin their relationship. They worked well together, whether it was study sessions or getting back at exes or picking out mismatching furniture at second-hand stores. He worried about losing his friend. Now he doesn’t want to say anything because he knows he’s going to lose Cas one way or another, and it will hurt less if they don’t get involved with each other any more than they already are.

Cas takes a deep breath, processing the information. He searches the room. His eyes land back on the camera.

“I have one more shot to get.”

Dean blinks. It’s what he expected. It wouldn’t matter if Dean subtly tried to imply how in love he is with Cas or if he bluntly told him, he would always get the cold shoulder. It’s for the best, he tries to convince himself. Any other way would just end in a bigger heartbreak than necessary.

He turns back to the mirror. He finds the photo of him and Cas in the movie theater again. He can’t remember what movie they saw, but their faces are nearly touching and Dean’s arm is around Cas and he wishes more than anything that he’d taken the chance to kiss him back then. Because, what’s the quote? ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Does it count when Dean is, technically, in love, but just hasn’t voiced it yet?

With a new coat of lipstick, he faces Cas again. He’s standing in the middle of the room, right next to the camera, ready for his last kiss. Dean musters up all his fake confidence and closes the distance between them, standing just a little closer than he had before.

“And this time?” Dean asks.

Cas looks hesitant. Maybe he’s finally realizing that he should have chosen someone else to kiss him over and over again. Someone who he wouldn’t have to awkwardly live with afterwards. Someone who wouldn’t have made a straightforward project into something uncomfortable.

His hand comes up to his face. He points a single finger to his bottom lip.

“Here.”

Dean’s breath catches in his throat. He hunts for any sort of lie in Cas’s eyes, any indication that he didn’t want it, that he wanted to take it back. But Cas just looks right back at him, waiting, patient.

Dean fits the corner of Cas’s jaw into the center of his palm, runs his thumb across Cas’s cheek. A lipstick kiss smears under the pad of his finger, wiping into nothing but a blur, just like the memory of whichever lover that one was meant to be.

When their lips meet, Dean forgets about every single reason he didn’t let himself have this before. Everything in his head melts away until there’s just Cas and mouth and hands and Cas and Cas and Cas.

Cas doesn’t hold back. He grips Dean’s waist like a life raft in the middle of the ocean, opens his mouth and moans when Dean slips his tongue in. He takes everything Dean gives him. He moves his head aside when Dean trails his mouth along his jaw and down his neck, kissing and sucking and nipping at the skin. Dean pulls him closer, desperate to feel as much of Cas as he possibly can.

Dean feels like he’s shaking, or maybe vibrating, with need. Everything is tilting, moving, wavering around him. The lights could blow and he wouldn't even notice, he’s too wrapped up, too confused about which way is left or right.

Their mouths come together again and the world straightens out on its axis. They slow down, brushing their lips together the way pages of a book slide against one another. They take their time. They learn the way they move with each other.

Eventually, they part. Not to gasp for breath, but to rest their foreheads together; to align their hearts. Between them, Dean can smell Cas’s toothpaste and taste the lipstick.

“We should do projects together more often,” Dean concludes humorlessly.

“I think we should skip the projects and just make out,” Cas counters.

Dean pulls back to laugh quietly at Cas, but then sees his face. Cas is covered in lipstick, all around his mouth, his chin, across his jaw, down his neck. The makeup follows the patterns of Dean’s kisses, right down to where he had sucked Cas’s earlobe into his mouth.

He lets loose, practically wheezing at the state of Cas’s face. Dean’s must look similar, because Cas erupts into laughter too and they both sink into each other, bodies convulsing in their arms.

“Come on, come on. One more picture,” Cas begs, pulling out of Dean’s grasp and positioning himself on the chair. He couldn't wipe that smile off his face if he tried, and it looks like he isn’t putting in any effort at all to push it away.

Dean presses the shutter button three times, hoping at least one of them is a good shot, before diving around the camera to pull Cas into his embrace again.

The lipstick ends up on chests, wrist, bed sheets, and hips, but they don’t mind. They might even keep the tube for another time.

tags below the cut!

#destiel #fanfic #my work #destiel college au

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sebspocketsquare · 4 years

Text

Quarantine 7

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (online)

A/N: Heya guys! Here’s part 7! I hope you enjoy it ;)

Warnings: Flirting, language, quarantine, feels, fluff, moments of sadness, storms

[J:] So.. Saturday at 5:00. Sound good?

[You:] Sounds perfect :) Let’s hope this weather clears up before then..

It was late afternoon, you were eating your first meal of the day.

A bowl of your favorite cereal.

[J:] I really enjoyed our date last night, by the way..

[J:] Sorry I was pretty nervous at first..

You smile, setting your bowl on the coffee table as you respond.

[You:] Oh, you don’t have to be sorry at all.. I was just as nervous as you were :)

[You:] First dates are always weird, J..

[You:] Ours just happened to be a little weirder than most. :P

[J:] I really really REALLY hate first dates…

You’re about to respond, tell him you feel the exact same way, but…

[J:] And yet, I still love ours.

[J:] And I’m really looking forward to the next one. :)

His text has your heart fluttering like a swarm of butterflies, and you decide to change the subject.

[You:] Speaking of our date..

[You:] I believe we made a deal, didn’t we?

You can see him start typing, erase it and stop, and then start typing again.

This pattern repeats four times before an actual message comes through.

[J:] You first.

You knew he was nervous about this part for some reason, so you had no issue with obliging this request.

Luckily you had brushed your hair today when you first woke up, put on your moisturizer and a bit of mascara. You weren’t as dolled up as you could be, but you thought it was better this way.

If quarantine had taught you anything, it was how to be comfortable with your bare face, to fall in love with some of your natural qualities.

Taking a seat in a chair by the window, you open your camera and take a few selfies from the more flattering angles you’d looked up on pinterest.

They’re pretty enough, but not what you’re looking for.

With a sigh, you look out the window at a lone, common starling sitting on the branch of a tree. He looks to you and cocks his head, as if to say ‘hello’. Your lip curls into a half smile, and at that moment, your thumb slips and captures an accidental photo.

It would turn out to be the perfect one.

It takes you exactly six and a half minutes to actually gain the courage to press send.

As soon as you do, you put your phone screen down on the table and groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuuuck. Why did I send that one?”

You suddenly regret not putting more makeup on, not editing out the tiny blemish on your chin, not being certain that your hair wasn’t frizzy.

What if this was it - the beginning of the end?

Your phone buzzes from its place on the table.

Once.

Twice.

Three times, before you pick it up.

It’s a string of texts from J, with more coming in with every moment that passes.

[J:] Doll

[J:] Goddamnnnnn…

[J:] You are seriously the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

[J:] Like… are you real??

[J:] How did i get so goddamn lucky?

[J:] Your eyes are so gorgeous, holy shit.

If you weren’t warm in the face before, you were now.

[You:] Don’t stare too much. :P

[J:] Too late for that. I can’t stop.

He’s silent for a few minutes, and you’re sure it’s because he’s staring at your photo again.

[You:] I do believe it’s your turn, Sarge. ;)

It takes him even longer to reply this time.

He starts typing, stops, and then starts again in a vicious cycle.

[J:] You don’t wanna see me, Doll.. I haven’t shaved in like three weeks…

You can’t help but pout a little bit.

[You:] We made a deal, J :(

[You:] Don’t hide those pretty blue eyes from me.

Hopeful that your playful attempt at comfort would be convincing enough for him, you set your phone back on the coffee table and head to the kitchen to wash your dishes.

When you return five minutes later, you’re happy to find that you have two new messages.

[J:] Alright, just.. I hope you’re not disappointed.

[J:]

Your jaw goes slack and you can’t tear your eyes away from his.

They were beautiful.

The way the deep blue of the outer edge surrounded the light blue-grey iris reminded you of crashing ocean waves, and you wanted nothing more than to get lost in them.

You can’t tell if time has slowed down or if you just weren’t breathing correctly anymore, but you can hear your heart beating in your ears as you look him over.

He’s gorgeous. The glittering grey hairs throughout his beard only made him even more attractive and for some strange reason, all you wanted to do was run your fingertips through it.

Was he even real?

[J:] Doll…?

You don’t even realize it’s been fifteen minutes since he’s sent the picture.

[You:] Sorry, it’s just..

[You:] You know you’re gorgeous, right?

[You:] Like.. Probably the most beautiful man in the history of like.. Ever??

You’re well aware you sound like a bit of a fangirl, but so what? He was breathtaking.

[J:] You’re just being nice.

A scoff escapes your lips as you respond.

[You:] Um, no.

[You:] I meant it.

[You:] I can’t believe you’ve been hiding those eyes from me for so long.

[J:] You’re too kind.

You decide to tease him a little.

[You:] Are you blushing, Sarge? ;)

[J:] I just might be, doll.

The rest of your day is spent chatting back and forth. J said he had to do some assignments for work on his computer, so he couldn’t game until really late that night, but it didn’t bother you.

It gave you a chance to relax and watch some TV for a while.

The first channel that comes up is the news, and you’re about to turn it off, but something catches your eye.

They’re interviewing Captain America, a fluff piece of him telling you what you can do to help your community - proper social distancing measures and proper handwashing etiquette.

He’s wearing a mask, so only the bottom half of his face is visible, but he looks oddly familiar.

It takes five minutes of watching it to realize who he reminds you of.

Sam. J’s Sam.

You pick up your phone, deciding to share your thoughts.

[You:] So.. I was watching the news..

[J:] Yikes.

[You:] Yeah..

[You:] Have you ever noticed how much Sam and Captain America look alike?

He takes ten minutes to respond, and by this time, the interview with the Captain is over, and you’ve moved on to a re-run of one of your favorite shows.

[J:] Uh, no…

[J:] Why?

[J:] What makes you think that?

All three texts come in quick succession, almost as if they were sent out of panic.

Two more show up on your screen in the same spirit.

[J:] Besides, haven't you seen Sam’s arms? He’s got fucking bird arms.

[J:] Captain America is super buff. No way they’re the same person.

You think back to when Sam came to your apartment to install your security system, and you specifically remember thinking how nice his arms were..

But the fact that J seems to be a little uncomfortable with your observation has you feeling weird too, so you decide to drop the subject for now.

[You:] I guess you’re right. My mind must be playing tricks on me.

[You:] I blame the quarantine.

The reply you receive is only three letters long, and it doesn’t sit right with you either.

[J:] Lol

SUNDAY, 4:15PM

You’ve been awake since noon, which is early for you nowadays.

It’s been nearly hailing all day, and it was beginning to also put a damper on your mood.

You had to cancel your second date due to the storms, and your make-up date with J was supposed to be in forty five minutes, but there was no way it could happen with the weather in its current state.

It’s be surprising if the whole city didn’t lose power at this rate.

[You:] I think we’re gonna have to cancel again tonight, J..

[You:] It’s just getting worse as time goes on.

It breaks your heart to have to cancel on him twice in only a matter of two days, but the cons outweigh the pros in this situation.

[J:] But… our date

[J:] :(

Releasing a heavy sigh, you send back a sad face of your own, chewing the inside of your cheek in an attempt to not let your emotions get the best of you.

[New photo message from J. To view image, unlock device]

The message appears on your screen moments after you’ve begun packing away your date set up. Something in your gut told you he wasn’t going to listen to your recommendation to stay home.

When you open it, you’re not surprised at what you find, but you are absolutely smitten.

[J:] I’m on my way, doll. Don’t give up on me just yet.

[J:]

You get so distracted staring at his lips, his goddamn perfect, beautiful lips that you don’t notice when twenty minutes has passed since he sent the photo.

He’d be here sooner than you expected, and worse, he was walking in the rain to do it.

What were you going to do with a man who’s stubbornness matched your own?

You decide to set a blanket outside, along with a thermos full of hot coffee.

The sky is dark grey, almost black in some spots, and the fact that it was only 5:00 only made it that much more obvious how nasty of a storm this was turning out to be.

You hoped he was okay.

Back against the door, you sit and wait for him.

Within half an hour, his signature sound of arrival hits the door in quick succession.

Knock. Knock Knock. Knock.

Always in time with your heart.

“How bad was your walk?” You ask immediately, to which you hear a noise that’s somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “That bad, huh?”

“The thunder was pretty loud. Made me jump a few times.” He finally confesses.

Your heart drops, “J.. I told you not to come. I know you wanted to have our date, and I.. I really did too, but.. It’s freezing and raining. You could get sick.”

Concern is dripping from each and every word, and you miss the way his entire face lights up. His heart flutters at hearing how much you care for him. About him.

“Yeah, well, doll.. You’re worth it. Thanks for the coffee by the way. Good call.”

You hear him set his backpack down, followed by his jacket rubbing against the door as he sits. He lets out a half sigh, half hiss when his jeans hit the concrete beneath him, and you’re sure he’s completely soaked to the bone.

Outwardly, you say nothing. Silence.

He’s not sure if you’re upset or angry. Or maybe just lost in contemplation.

Inwardly, you’re facing a battle.

A battle between letting a man whom you had surprisingly strong feelings for sit out in the rain and catch a cold, and letting said man inside your apartment during a nationwide quarantine, never having met him face to face.

The lights flicker on and off. On and off again.

The thunder rumbles and you can see the sky flash through your curtains.

J lets out a soft, “Doll?”

Your windows fill with a quick, bright, white light for a moment, before the loudest crash of thunder makes your body tremble.

Your apartment goes black and silent in a matter of seconds, and J releases a quiet, “What the hell?”

Your hands are quaking, and your heartbeat kicks into overdrive as you make your final choice.

TAGS: (I wasnt sure who to tag, so if you dont want to be, I’m sorry!! Just trying to get this out there. ALSO if you wanna be tagged INBOX ME! I tend to miss people in the tags :( ). @mindingmyownbusiness @plumfondler @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @loricameback @tinaferraldo @geminimoonbeamx @preserumsteverogers @moderapoppins @lowkeysebby @buckyshattergirl @jayattemptstoruletheworld @the-observant-fangirl @moondancewrites @moonbeambucky @trinityjadec @stevieang @bionic-buckyb @eyecandybarnes @propertyofpoeandbucky @promarvelfangirl @ballyhoobarnes @bucky-plums-barnes @cate-lynne @witchymarvelspacecase @imaginingbucky @theimpossibleg1rl @babygurl8840 @wonderlandmind4 @buckysthing @formulafun @curvybihufflepuff @fanficsformarvelkillme @shadyskit @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @reading–mermaid @fuckmestan @siliverin @verygraphicink @sallyp-53 @thatsbucknasty @steadyphantomcat @booktease21 @kiki5283 @lostinspace33 @drayshadow @theperditioncrasher @mmyepic @feelmyroarrrr@alien-beans @heartsaved @sideeffectsofyou @dreamingofonceuponatime @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @bluerorjhan @tarynsnotokay @jamdropx35 @turquoisekokiri @pinknerdpanda @starkrobb @marvelgirl7 @unscriptedtimetraveler @fangeekkk @wonderlandmind4 @pinkisokay @mrsdaamneron @rynabarnesrogers @wish-i-had-something-better @stanning-seb-stan @oilersgirl35 @vaisabu @paranoid-borderline-insane @bonkywobble @vikki-rogue @witchymegg @a--1--1--3 @margetastic33 @stuffandstuff-stuff @broken-hearted-barnes @elementec @thummbelina @booktease21 @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @haileystudy

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #online au #quarantine #series #sebspocketsquare

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the-creative-lie · 4 years

Text

Quarantined

pairings: steve rogers x reader; nat x bucky if you squint

genre/warnings: the fluffiest fluff

word count: 2.3k

summary: Steve and the reader are quarantined together and dancing around their feelings for each other, so Buck and Nat decide to take matters into their own hands.

notes: based on an ao3 request. we could all use a little steve love right now lol

“This is the fourth time I’ve found you like this,” you hear Steve say. Honestly, how does he manage to be cute even upside down? From this angle, his disapproving frown almost seems like a smiley face. Oh right, upside down. You’ve been laying on the couch, legs up, head dangling over the ground, for the past twenty minutes or so. You are certain your face is ruby red right now and you’re starting to feel a little bit dizzy, but the whole world is on quarantine goddamit, and you’re bored.

“I heard sending a bunch of blood to your brain is supposed to make you smarter,” you justify, coming out of your not-so-comfortable posture and laying your now throbbing head on the armrest of the couch. He sits on the other end, lifting your legs and putting them back down on top of his knees.

“And who exactly told you that?” he asks amused. You look away, rolling your eyes at your own stupidity. “Bucky,” you mumble.

“And you believed him?”

“No. Well, yeah. But I’m not smart, that’s why I was doing this in the first place! That was the whole point!”

“Seriously, Y/N. It doesn’t work.”

“How do you know? You’re not smart either!” you protest. His nose wrinkles and his mouth forms a perfect O.

“Excuse you?” he exclaims, pretending to be offended.

You smirk. “I said what I said, Rogers.”

His eyes twinkle with mischief and you frown, confused. Before you can ask him what the hell is going on in that blonde head of his, he grabs your legs and throws you off the couch. You groan from the floor and send him a glare. He giggles. Captain America giggled. And he looks so pretty when he does that. It’s kind of unfair.

“I’m going to try to clean out my closet for like, the seventh time this week,” you huff “Feel free to come help me, if you’re bored.”

“Sure. I’ll be right there,” he smiles, as he watches you leave for your room.

From the kitchen, Bucky Barnes just stares in utter disbelief as his best friend sits on the couch with the goofiest grin plastered on his face, looking at the empty spot you just left beside him. He can tell Steve is head over heels for you, and Nat has already told him about your huge crush on him. He can put two and two together, but apparently you lovebird idiots can’t, because you’ve been dancing around each other since the quarantine started. And he’s starting to get bored too. So, he does the only thing that could make this lockdown more interesting and gives himself a mission. Well, him and Nat. There’s no way he’s doing any of this without her help.

**********************************

“I can’t believe you still have this,” Steve laughs, as he unfolds an old t-shirt that was rolled into a ball in the back of your closet. It’s a very old shirt, and to be fair, you bought it as a joke. It sports a very discolored picture of his shield on the front.

You snort. “I just wear it to bed sometimes. It turned out to be incredibly comfy.” That’s totally true. I mean, yeah, it could also be the fact that it reminds you of him, but no. No, definitely the levels of comfort the t-shirt provides are what drove you to grab it in those five minutes when you packed as fast as possible before leaving the Avengers Tower for good, when the Accords mess was in full swing and when you decided to follow Steve Rogers to the end of the world and back. It’s been a few months since that, and yeah, you are fugitives now, but honestly? It’s not so bad. You, Steve, Bucky and Nat got yourselves a small house on the mountains for the time being. You’re near a small town that you go to when you need supplies. Truth be told, it wasn’t like you’d go out a lot before the quarantine started, trying not to show your faces too much and all that, but you could still go for a walk, buy dinner somewhere. But isolation hits differently when it’s not by choice.

“I still don’t get why you bought it though.” He places down the t-shirt and takes a sip off his mug. Currently you are both sitting on the ground, in your room, drinking coffee and laughing at your poor fashion sense. Hey, a lady can only do so much when running away from the law okay?

“I just thought it’d be funny,” you say, folding some jeans and starting to make a pile. “Also the lady at the store didn’t recognize me at first, and that was hilarious. I got to pretend to be one of your fangirls, remember?”

His face goes red and he covers it with his hand, embarrassed. “Of course I remember. I was there. You asked for a selfie with me and started to fake cry. ”

“HA. I forgot about that part.”

“I remain impressed by the fact that you can cry on command, by the way. ”

“What can I say, Stevie? I’m an actor,” you say theatrically, standing up and bowing as if on stage. Steve starts clapping and wooing.

“Then I’m your number one fan,” he replies. You stare at him, stammering for a moment before regaining composure. You two are always doing this, even more so now that you are forced to spend basically 24/7 together. You flirt, he flirts back, someone blushes. He says an amazing one liner; you’re left with your heart racing and your stomach doing flips. But it’s just friendly banter, right? It’s just the fact that you’re locked up together and that the only two other humans you guys see on a daily basis are Russian assassins. Speaking of Russian assassins, your train of thought gets interrupted by Nat screaming from the living room that her and Bucky are about to facetime with Sam and that you two should get your tushies to the couch. Yeah, she actually said tushies. Isolation is doing things to her.

“Sam, babe, how you doin’?” You shout, climbing over Bucky to get the good spot on the couch. He bats a hand at you, annoyed, and you stick out your tongue at him. He sucker punches you in the arm but just when you’re about to pull his hair, Steve easily lifts you up like you’re made of paper and scoots you away from Buck. Sometimes you forget how strong he actually is.

“Behave, children. Uncle Sam is on the FaceTime.” You lock eyes with Nat and you both let out a laugh.

“THE FaceTime?” you ask, giggling.

Steve frowns, confused. “Isn’t it called the FaceTime? That’s what you said last time.”

“It’s just FaceTime, Steve. No the,” Nat corrects him.

“Man, c’mon. We talked about this, Rogers. You did the same thing with the Google and it drove me crazy for like a month,” Sam chimes in from the screen.

“Yeah, Steve. Get with the times, old man.”

“Buck, we’re the same age.”

“Yeah, but I’m hip and modern.”

You roll your eyes. “The fact that the words hip and modern just left your mouth disqualifies you immediately, Barnes.”

He huffs and returns his attention to Sam. “How about you, Birdman? How you holding up?”

“Things are pretty chill, I guess. I’m using the FaceTime to have online meetings with the therapy groups. It’s not the same, and of course we’d wish we could have a more personal contact as usual, but we’re doing what we can, you know. Trying to get used to the new normal.”

“Is the FaceTime going to be a thing now?” Steve groans, “Fuck, this one’s sticking right? I’m gonna regret it?”

“Language,” you say, trying not to laugh. He just glares at you.

Sam is, thankfully, not a fugitive. The government considered (after a few pulled strings and a trending hashtag on the Twitter) that he could be pardoned of his crimes, based on the fact that he did a lot of important work on the community; and that his participation on the whole Accords debacle wasn’t so big, and therefore, could be swept under the rug. You four, on the other hand, were not as lucky. After all, here you are, aren’t you? In the middle of Germany, or Canada, or who knows at this point.

“Anyways, guys, I just wanted to check on you. Y’all know this things can’t last very much or you risk exposure. I’m glad you’re all okay, and I’ll try calling again as soon as I can without raising suspicion. Take care!"

A chorus of goodbyes and take cares erupts from the couch, and the screen turns black.

You get up, stretching your back. “Well, I’m gonna take a shower. If you guys are hungry just have dinner without me, I’ll have something later,” you state, heading to the bathroom you all share.

The only problem with you leaving is that Steve is now left alone between two giddy assassins, who both look at him like they’re Cheshire cats. Frankly, it’s terrifying.

Steve gulps, considering running and risking his life by breaking the quarantine instead of dying here on this couch, because he already knows what’s coming. Every time you’re gone and the three of them are alone, the conversation always shifts to…

“So, Y/N huh?”

“Smooth, Buck.”

“You’re the talker, woman, you do the talking!”

“And what are you supposed to be?”

“I’m the muscle. In case he tries to run away.”

Oh no, there goes his only plan. Poor Steve.

Natasha turns to him and stares him down, “Rogers, when are you going to tell that woman you’re in love with her?”

“We- I- huh. Whenever I have time.”

“You’re on goddamn quarantine. There’s nothing but time.”

“Yeah. Loads of time.”

“Seriously, if only you removed your head from your tushie for a little bit you would see she clearly feels the same.”

“That’s right. Head, tush. That’s a no-no.”

“This is your chance, Rogers. Y/N’s super stressed out with the locked down, she’s practically climbing up the walls. Do something nice for her, and tell her how you feel.”

“Be a gentleman, yo.”

“Barnes I thought we agreed I’d do the talking.”

“Alright, damn. I was just trying to help. Also what is it with you saying tushie now? ”

“IT’S A QUARANTINE THING!”

Before things could get any further (or worse, for all that matters), Steve stands up and shuts both super spies up, “Okay, fine. I’ll do it. You’re right. Just, huh. Go to your rooms, please? I need to think.”

Natasha smirks at him, “Sure thing, dad. Come on, James, let’s go watch some crap TV show in my room.”

Steve looks around, panicked. And then he has an idea.

*********************************************

After getting out of the shower and putting on some fuzzy pajamas and, why not, the infamous Captain America t-shirt, you head to the kitchen in search for some late night dinner slash snack. The lights seem to be out, so you assume the gang already ate and went to bed. But what surprises you when you get to the living room is the tiny table where you usually have breakfast, simply adorned with a white tablecloth and one of those crappy candles you guys keep in the bottom drawer in case there’s a blackout. And standing next to it all, in his own fuzzy pajamas, is Steven Grant Rogers, looking like he’s about to pass out but still standing, and holding a piece of paper.

“Steve? What’s all this?”

He just starts to ramble, “Okay so. Huh. I’ve been trying to say something to you for quite a while now. And lately the voices in my head, that sound a lot like Bucky and Nat by the way, would not shut up about it. And I just thought, you know what? We’re on a goddamn quarantine. The world apparently has its own plans, and does whatever it wants, it’s not gonna wait for me. So fuck it. I’m saying it.”

“Saying what?” you breathe out, heart pounding on your chest.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N,” he smiled softly, raising his eyebrows as if to say and I guess there’s nothing I can do about it.

You’re speechless. He stares at you and starts panicking, “Oh God. Huh, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I- This was all so stupid, and I just put you on the spot and- oh no, now you’re trapped with me because of the quarantine. I’m so sorry, I’ll just stay locked in my room so you won’t have to see me and Bucky can just pass me some crackers through the door-”.

You cut his rambling, “Steve. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, I shouldn’t have listened to them-”

“Steve, I’m in love with you too.”

He looks up at you like a deer in headlights, “You are?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, smiling.

He frowns, “Why?”

“Must be all that blood going to my head, ” you close the distance between you two and wrap your arms around his neck, “Guess it just made me dumber.”

“I’ll have to thank Bucky for that.”

“Could you stop talking about Barnes and kiss me already?” he laughs and leans down to kiss you, sweet and gentle, and suddenly everything makes sense.

You separate a little, arms still around him and look around.

“What’s all this?”

“Well I was going to ask you out, but because of the quarantine we can’t really go out,” he explains, sheepish, “So I thought we could go in, you know?” He lets go of you and points at a plate on the table, “Also, we´re having sandwiches for dinner because we haven’t gone on the supply run yet. And since I can’t buy you flowers- ”, he hands you the piece of paper, a bouquet of wild flowers beautifully drawn.

“Steve, these are so pretty. This is perfect, it’s all perfect,” you beam.

He brings out a chair for you, “Shall we?”

You laugh. Maybe quarantine is not that bad.

#steve rogers #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america one shot #captain america x reader #marvel #marvel one shot #avengers #avengers x reader #avengers one shot #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfic #captain america fanfic #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfic

179 notes · View notes

hoseoksactualass · 5 years

Note

Could we pls get a smutty IE!jk and oc drabble?

hello and YES

this is also @taespired‘s idea she be my queen since we were 16 we want the same things we dream the same dreams alright take it away zayn

where jk is in a (boring) meeting, and a homebound oc sends him v important photos during

Jungkook has a habit of drawing T-minus doodles on torpid meetings like this. For now, he does it with a phony smile on his face and makes it look like he actually cares. The interns’ eyes are glazed. More because he looks just as young as them and dashingly handsome than how overbearingly loud the internship coordinator is being right now.

This was supposed to be over five minutes ago. He’s in the middle of drawing cat ears when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He makes it look calculated—the way he perks his head up, draws eye contact with an intern who couldn’t take her spec’d eyes off him, and purses his lips slightly.

Secretary sent a message:

If you need me, I can still be over.

Sent 10:19 a.m.

He doesn’t stop the way the first thing he thinks of is what you might be wearing. The coordinator makes a joke everyone fake chuckles to.

And like everything else, you will not have his head for it. You know he thinks of you at wee hours like this, and you take advantage of it, already hiking your booty shorts up your ass like you know how it’ll feel when he does it.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

if you call in sick you call in sick. dw about it

Sent 10:20 a.m.

You can hear his voice through the message, and it’s instantly something you smirk to.

Meanwhile, Jungkook already has a mental chant about you being the perfect distraction playing like a ruined record in his head. He nods at something that went in one ear and exited the other, humming in false agreement. He lowers his phone’s brightness simultaneously.

Secretary sent a message:

Do the interns have life in their eyes?

Sent 10:21 a.m.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

an amusing amount i feel sick

Sent 10:21 a.m.

You chuckle to it, roll on your back, but before your thumbs type away, the pending screen dings again.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

show me what you’re wearing

Sent 10:22 a.m.

Then you’re off your shorts like you knew nothing of them, praying to lighting and an old thong to give you something you can nod to. For now, it’s a dim snap of your stomach down, shirt lazily tossed over the skin before a perceiver’s gaze will catch the strap of your thong hugging tight atop the curve of your hip. Not Pinterest-esque, but it’s honest work; it’s like you instantly know what Jungkook sounds like groaning to the sight.

He smiles at the coordinator before dropping his gaze to his phone again, tucked under his table and the weight of the company, but now he couldn’t care less.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

woa shit im never used to it

sexy

Sent 10:24 a.m.

The reminder to relax your body now that a camera isn’t pointing you doesn’t cross your mind.

Secretary sent a message:

Sent 10:24 a.m.

Jungkook finds himself giving advice he’s given millions of interns before, and it’s to keep a peeled eye. This goes for his board. His peers. It’s the emergency CEO talk he pulls out of his ass, but he knows everyone fawns over it, lowering his voice like he’s building an intimate rapport with the listeners. He’s still thinking about your skin. Keeps it brief, ends his attractive ment with something the coordinator can pick up on.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

that was my futile attempt to ask for more while i got called for advice

be back later, i look suspicious

Sent 10:26 a.m.

And it’s childish, but you always have a craving to divert his attention towards you. That’s the thrill, the sparkles in champagne, and when you down it and still walk in a straight line, you’re prideful. You’re an ace. And if you can juggle work and posing in front of a mirror with your teeth biting your shirt up, so be it. He’ll receive it and do something about it. That, you know.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

you

you minx

pls

save that for later

not noww

Sent 10:28 a.m.

You smile at it. It only makes you take a photo with your leg propped up your desk and your free hand teasing your inner thigh, enough so he’ll see more of your curves and lines despite the dim lighting that makes you look short on hemoglobin.

He receives it with a bite to his lip, an itch to his loins. He tugs at his dress shirt lest he wants his interns eyeing at his nipples.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

_____ behave

are you gonna listen or not

Sent 10:30 a.m.

You can hear him say it, let yourself feel his baritone ring at the seemings of your inner thighs. Then you take another photo, playful with your shirt draped all over your body enough that he has to make out your parts through the translucence of it, panties dangling by a teasing pointer. You don’t put text. Leave him with that raw photo, a prelude to complete nudity you’re sure he’ll hint at asking for.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

gonna regret acting like that when i get to you baby

if you wont let me sit through this meeting without a fucking hard on you have something coming to you

Sent 10:32 a.m.

In his challenged unease, all he receives is a video this time. He flicks his phone’s ringer silent, and it vibrates in his palms. He clicks on it, 5 seconds of shit quality and you placing an arm over your splayed tits, shifting in bed as you had just propped yourself there.

It’s trial for Jungkook not to make a growl at the back of his throat. But he’ll never stop to admit he fucking loves it. While an innocent intern is all eyes for him, he only has his for a secretary with a kink for hanging how hot she is over her boss’s head and making him eat it.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

later baby

pls

wait it out for me

Sent 10:34 a.m.

And he’s sure you won’t obey. He stares until you reply.

Secretary sent a message:

Can’t.

Sent 10:34 a.m.

Within the span of time you know he waits for what you have in store, you fish for a box under your bed, grabbing the familiar texture you know too well of your bullet vibrator. Hot pink and all sorts of taunting when you send a clip of you ghosting the toy over your thighs and across.

Jungkook waits a second before clicking on it, a breath held taught in his chest.

He replays the video directly, eyes on for that second he gets a good look at your pussy. Replays it again with his thumb adjusting the player position so he could slow it himself. It’s his dick or his soul that jumps in his pants.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

fuck

Sent 10:35 a.m.

He’s typing, but you send a message before he can even proceed.

Secretary sent a message:

If you’re hard, show me.

Sent 10:35 a.m.

What you receive is a video. Rowdy with the intern coordinator’s voice and the rustle of the audio. His phone stills, and you see the strain of his thighs under navy blue dress pants, ascending enough so you see a prominent shadow bulging at his crotch. He has the audacity to squeeze at it, too, watch blinding at the sight. Your breath hitches.

It’s nearly involuntary—how you press the vib harder, making your nerves frolic before you allow it to hover lightly over your skin again

Jungkook still has a gnawing fright for adjourning meetings he’s invited to sit through, so he sighs through the agony and makes sure no one hears. Thinking about what you must be doing to yourself. What you’re thinking.

You have a lousy grip on your phone, a stupid front cam angle to show what you’re doing from the neck down. You huff a heavy breath and kick your hips like it’s script.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

fuckkkkkkk

i have to leave here

Sent 10:37 a.m.

You’re quick to play, corner him.

Secretary sent a message:

If you don’t stay put, I’m not sending any more.

Sent 10:37 a.m.

It’s like he hears your voice against his neck, telling him to sit his ass down and live with the shear in his Brionis.

If Jungkook was the type of guy who would bust a nut over just about anything as much as Victorian men sexualized ankles, he’d lie to you and crawl to the bathroom of his office just to jerk it off. But he isn’t like that. Not close. He likes the tease, the tickle in his guts, the sound of your voice he conjures in his head with every text.

Before he can get himself together, sit in a way his dick doesn’t poke at his zipper, his phone vibrates again. Another short clip. Back cam, sheets like a painting under your body, you rolling your hips against the toy. God, he wants to hear you; he feels his ears go red.

Secretary sent a message:

Proof

You’re still in the meeting.,

Sent 10:39 a.m.

You get a selfie. It’s not proof, but he looks serious. And he looks hot. Exactly how you want him to look. Hair swept over crimson ears. Faking unfazed eyes. Then a video pops in. Same angle, but his eyes are directed somewhere in the room, scanning, reading, pretending to listen. Then a message.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

am i good at pretending i dont wanna fuck you so bad

Sent 10:40 a.m.

You hum to that like a toast to the soft hum of the vibrator against you. You shut your eyes for a bit, sigh to the feeling boiling in your loins before your toes start to feel tickly and you’re kicking.

Secretary sent a message:

So good,

Sent 10:41 a.m.

You send a video too long. Front cam again this time. A stretch of you squirming and being unable to stay still, camera panning up for a few seconds to taunt him with the moans he won’t be able to hear, down again and showing how your hand ever so languidly motions the toy against where you’re pulsating for it. Your limbs are sweating, and it’s hotter where the sheets meet it.

When Jungkook watches it, he presses down on his dick a bit, more unbothered than he could be about the fact probably everyone in the room has figured out his attention span is stretching nowhere towards them. He replays the part he sees your tits move with the heaving of your chest. Replays it again before replaying the part he sees how evidently wet you are.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

fuck holy shit

god

how good does that feel

describe it

Sent 10:42 a.m.

Secretary sent a message:

Feels

So tingly

Sent 10:42 a.m.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

god yes

stay with me

tell me more

Sent 10:42 a.m.

There’s a vivid visual in your head, of his tight fist around his cock, too listless to take off his watch, a mess. Biting the hem of his dress shirt up lest he wants cum all over it, biting to keep quiet and another tight fist around his phone, flashing a playlist of all the media you’re sending in at this blessed hour. Your insides jump, tumble, then the sparkle on the surface of your skin follows. You make sure to film this bit, show him how your head’s restless, shaking from one side to another as if pushing an orgasm away. Then a separate clip for where he craves you. Your hips rolling against the toy, coaxing.

Jungkook tries to look for a sign this meeting’s fucking ending in the coordinator’s eyes but to no avail. He replays the shit out of that second clip, wondering how wet that’d feel against him. His dick aches.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

so wet

do you enjoy this

making me harder than anyone could ever

in the middle of a meeting

Sent 10:44 a.m.

He knows what he’s doing, feeding your kinks like that, making your eyes roll into your head. You want to lose yourself in it, but it’s never as much as how much you want to stretch out the anguish of being nothing but witness to your bliss for him.

Secretary sent a message:

Want to cum.

Sent 10:46 a.m.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

do it

show me

gonna stroke my cock to it later

Sent 10:46 a.m.

At this point, he’s not even looking up, in heated anticipation for that One Thing he knows is coming. He feels himself throbbing, wishes he could make you feel it, but for now, he’ll let you bathe in it.

2 minutes and nothing, leaving him with a clean slate and your previous ministrations to imagine what your body looks like. How you sound. How you roll your hips, cry his name or something along the lines of Sir and throw his last name in, how you veer the vib away from your cunt unless you want your body spasming into nothing. Laboured breathing. A smile.

He gets the video, obsesses over it until the interns are rustling into a stand, ready to mark their thanks and congratulations before he could even take his eyes off you.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

motherfuck _____

fuckmeetings over

brb

Sent 10:48 a.m.

Along with the boring connotation of a brb, you get two clips ten minutes succeeding your orgasm. First video is a lazy front cam, exactly how you pictured, bringing the hem of his shirt to his teeth, hair falling over his eyes, all the other lights but one switched off. The screen flips, and he’s undoing his belt, a palpable bulge where you know it is.

The second video is unstable; his belt almost rattling to how hard he pumps himself, and you hear him straining. Then it’s cum and tattered breaths.

You have a second orgasm that morning.

#this took forever #ie #ask:ie #jungkook drabble #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #bts drabble #bts smut #bts imagine #bts scenario #namjoon #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #bts

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curiositydooropened · 4 years

Text

Self-Isolating Together

“No.” It was a good thing Steve had the reflex to catch the door before Robin slammed it in his face. “No way, shitbird. It’s called self-isolating for a reason, and it’s the same reason I got a one bedroom apartment without you. This isn’t happening.”

“Come on, Rob,” Steve whined, sneakered foot trapped between door and jam, fingers wrapped tightly at eye level. She grimaced at his touch. “Work booted me for two weeks, and you know I can’t be alone that long.”

“Go back to Hawkins then.”

“It’s like a ten hour drive by myself, and my parents are stuck in Europe.”

“Shit. Are they okay?” The sudden sympathetic switch to her voice signaled her surrender, and Robin stepped backwards into her apartment.

Steve shrugged, pushing the door open to let himself in. “As of eighteen hours ago, Mom sent a text and said they’re fine. Just stuck.”

“Jesus.” Robbin hugged her upper half, chewing on her plump bottom lip to weigh her options. He was in now. Not like she had the strength or willpower to kick him out. Well, she could, but he knew she wouldn’t. She rolled her eyes.

“I love you, best friend.” He waggled his eyebrows.

She scoffed. “Just don’t touch anything until you wash you hands. Dump your bag by the door.”

He did as instructed, dramatically holding his hands upward and avoiding obstacles on his path to the kitchen sink like a surgeon between sanitation and the Operating Room. He washed with soap and water, loudly humming Happy Birthday to appease his new roommate.

“Ha ha,” she spoke dryly, leaning against the counter beside him. “You aren’t staying for two weeks, you know. I’ll murder you before then.”

“As soon as I’m a nuisance, I’m out,” he agreed, rinsing suds down the drain with nearly scalding water.

“Okay. Get out.”

He flicked water at her as it dripped from his fingers, and she squawked, snapping the hand towel to his arm. He yanked it from her, drying his knuckles before tossing it aside and leaning beside her. He’d let a little spill over the sink and he felt the water slowly dampen the waistband of his jeans. He sighed. “So, what do you wanna do, roomie?”

“I actually can’t stand you.” She groaned, bumping his elbow with her own.

— — —

They’d settled on an Alien franchise marathon, which Steve would have never agreed to without Robin’s coaxing. And yet halfway through Aliens, he was nodding off at one end of the couch and Robin was texting on the other. He nudged her with his toe.

“You going to spend time with your houseguest or what?”

“Hm?” She continued to stare at her screen, tapping away, the soft blue light illuminating her freckled face.

“Earth to Robin,” Steve toed her again. “I need attention.”

“You need a girlfriend.”

“I have you.”

“You need a real one. One who likes boys.”

“Yeah?” He sighed, puffing up the pillow under his head. “And where am I going to find one of those?” It seemed to be Robin’s life purpose to try to set him up with someone. Maybe she thought he was still attracted to her and needed a distraction, but any semblance of a crush faded the day he saw her wolf down fifteen hot dogs in a competition and immediately vomit them back into the tin bucket beside her.

“The inter, I’ve told you a million times.”

He groaned. “You know I hate those dating apps. It feels so objectifying.”

As much as the woman race appreciates your fall from grace as Slimeball of the Century, you have to suck it up and get yourself back out there. Because this pathetic, whiny Steve wouldn’t exist if you finally got laid.”

“Well unless you’re offering, we’re supposed to be self-distancing. So I don’t see that happening for at least two weeks.”

Robin shot him a sly grin, wagging her phone in his direction. “There are other ways, my dude. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to bed.” She leaned forward and turned up the volume on the television.

“You’re disgusting!” He yelled in her general direction, chucking a throw pillow at her. It hit her bedroom door where her smug face had been.

He rolled over and pulled out his own mobile device. Maybe she was right. His thumb hovered over the Tinder logo. He had several matches in the city, and a few DMs he hadn’t replied to. It just felt icky, for lack of a better term, like he wasn’t really trying to get to know these women. They definitely weren’t trying to get to know him. No one actually cares what his favorite cereal is. They’re just trying to figure out what to stock for the morning after.

His brain overrode his finger and he ended up on TikTok instead, scrolling through endless videos of the nerds dancing with their siblings and trying to keep entertained during their own quarantines. Dustin posted a video an hour, documenting his day in a night vision filter, like a data log in a found footage film. Only he hadn’t done anything more interesting than eat four Snack Packs. So it was a typical Friday for him.

Steve checked Snapchat next, an app next to no one used, but the familiar notification from Nancy sent a familiar little flutter to his stomach. She’d sent a selfie in a face mask filter. It gave her thick, black eyeliner above a black leather mask, very much the contrast from her bubblegum pastel aesthetic.

He smiled, using the same filter to respond. He retook it a few times, getting the right angle to illuminate his face from the glow of the television. bitchin’

He typed El’s new favorite phrase. She’d recently discovered the punk subculture of the 90s and used phrases like “bitchin’” and “gnarly” on every Insta story and TikTok caption.

He was shocked at the immediacy of Nancy’s response. Her next photo was dark, her soft features lit only from her phone screen. She lay on a fluffy pillow, curls tickling her cheekbones. A concerned look furrowed her brows and puckered her lips. Are you at home?

He snapped a photo of Robin’s television. nah. convinced rob to take me in.

Again, she responded quickly. This time, she was smiling. Good. Glad you aren’t alone.

His heart swelled. He knew it shouldn’t, knew he should be over her by now. It had been two years, and she was with Jonathan, and they were happy.

He sent a photo of the dark room around him. me too. nite nance.

Nancy’s eyes were closed, nose scrunched around a smile. Night, Steve. Miss you. xx

He shut off his phone and rolled over, letting the sounds of flame throwers and machine guns drown out the dull ache and gaping voice in his chest.

— — —

Steve didn’t anticipate accidentally starting a fight on the first full day, but there he was, gangly legs tucked under him on the couch, mindlessly scrolling when Robin went in on him. All he’d done was offer to PostMate Mediterranean from their favorite place down the street, half-jokingly. Robin did not find him humorous, and he jumped at the slamming of her refrigerator door.

“No, dingus, we cannot just ask a random stranger to handle our food in his disgusting car two blocks just so we can eat.”

“Great, so we’ll go pick it up.”

“What is wrong with you? Can you take nothing seriously ever in your entire life?” Her tone, though always vaguely insulting, held no such understanding or humor. Instead her words felt cold, piercing.

He turned to look at her, nostrils flared and fists clenched on the edge of the linoleum countertop. “Whoa, Jesus, Rob, I was joking. Thought I’d lighten the mood. What’s your deal?”

“My deal? My deal, Harrington, is that I’ve somehow managed to confine myself to this tiny shithole with someone like you, who is constantly trying to ‘lighten the mood’ when the rest of the Goddamn world is going through something traumatic.”

Steve fought back an eye roll. Robin Buckley, ladies and gentlemen, drama queen, people’s rights activist, extraordinaire. He really should have anticipated this. Instead, he stood from his crumpled position on the couch and stretched his limbs over his head. “Alright, alright. If it’s bothering you that much, I’ll leave.”

Robin harrumphed, hands on hips, bare foot tapping against beige tile. She didn’t respond, or stop him as he shut his laptop lid and shoved it into his bag by the door. He pretended to ignore her as she let out a dramatic sigh and crossed to her pantry cupboard.

“We have pita and hummus. Is that going to be enough for you, princess?” She scoffed.

“Ooh,” he shrugged. “I was hoping for falafel.”

She reached into the cupboard and extracted a can of chickpeas before tossing it across the room. “Start blending.”

He caught it and joined her in the kitchen to help place vegetables and pita on a serving platter for the both of them. Four carrots in, he bumped her with his hips. “Is everything okay though? End of the world aside?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” She avoided eye contact.

“Robin. It’s me, Steve, your best friend.”

She sighed and shrugged under his knowing gaze, and she shot a displeased look at her phone charging near her keys and wallet on the counter. “Francesca’s pissed at me.”

“Ah,” Steve nodded, slapping a hefty dollop of hummus onto her pita and then his own. “And Francesca is...?”

“The girl I’m... I don’t know. Seeing, I guess. Texting, calling, FaceTiming.” Robin threw her hands in the air for dramatic effect. He supposed you could take the girl out of drama club, but it never really left the girl, did it?

“Why is she pissed?”

“Because,” Robin spoke through a mouthful of pita. “She saw you being an idiot on my Insta story earlier.”

“And?”

“And I’ve barricaded myself from the world with you and I have committed to only communicating with her via the internet, dingus.”

Steve picked carrot out of his molars with his tongue, contemplating her predicament and ways to fix it. He supposed he would also be pissed if let’s say Nancy was dating him but decided to hole up with Byers, before they were dating, of course. But that was a totally different ball game. “She knows you’re gay, right?”

“Yes, Steve, she knows I’m gay, but like... it doesn’t look great on my part to tell her countless times it’s safer to stay indoors and then let you waltz in like you own the place.”

“Okay, well, do you even like her?”

“Yes!” Robin sighed, dipping her half eaten pita directly into the hummus. So much for the spread of germs. “I do, I really like her. Like, really, really like her.”

“So invite her over now.”

“No, God no. Jesus, no wonder you’re single for life.”

“Hey!”

“I just mean, if I invite her over now, she’ll think it’s just because she wants me to, and it won’t feel genuine. And I’m really not prepared for her to meet you. I can’t scare her away.”

“Okay, unfair,” Steve prodded her hand with his carrot. She swatted him away. “Have you told her how you feel?”

Robin stared at her plate, shaking her head like a guilty five-year-old asked to apologize to a classmate.

“That’d probably be a good start.”

“Yeah? And who are you to give me relationship advice, Harrington? I saw you Snapping Nancy shirtless pictures this morning.”

Steve had been caught in the act. He tried to played it off so smoothly too, also posting fresh-out-of-the-shower thirst traps on his Instagram to make sure Nancy wasn’t suspicious of his lack of wardrobe. His snaps to her were all smiles and dribbled toothpaste, relatable and modest, asking her how quarantine was going and if she had any book recommendations for the long haul.

She did, Don Quixote. And she shared her suggestions in a perfect powder blue camisole, makeup free, with her hair clipped up on the sides and out of her face.

“Steve,” Robin scolded. “You’ve got to get over it. Nancy’s happy, and she’s far too nice of a person to cut the cord and break your heart. So you’re going to have to be the one to stop contact.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled into his hummus.

— — —

After a long day of mutual sulking and watching various garbage content on their separate devices, Steve and Robin decided to open the bottle of Stoli at the back of Robin’s cupboard. She had some cranberry juice in her fridge left over from her last UTI (“TMI, Rob!”), and they decided to pour a couple of glasses and toast to Mother Russia.

It was a habit they’d been out of for a couple of months, trying to separate Hawkins life from life in the city. The vodka was reserved for particularly bad nights, long car rides, and the middle of cattle pastures. The night of Billy Hargrove’s funeral was one of those nights. Seeing Max that beat up over her dick of a brother was hard for all of them to watch. Knowing they’d had a hand in it was somehow more difficult to deal with.

Now though, they seemed to be celebrating the end of the world and being bad at girls and things, Steve couldn’t really remember. His head felt fuzzy, and his entire body was warm enough to strip off his sweatshirt by the collar.

“Why are you always naked, Harrington?” Robin cackled, tossing a tv remote in his direction.

It bounced from his chest and thudded against the concrete floors, and the two of them howled in laughter.

“Okay, okay,” Robin breathed, clutching at the stitch in her side. They’d gone drink for drink, and she was easily further gone than Steve, lacking experience and body mass. “Truth or dare.”

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. He shrugged. “Are we five?”

“Truth or dare, dingus!”

He laughed with her. He couldn’t help it. She was infectious, hyper and annoying, but endearingly so. “Fine, truth.”

“Are you... still in love with me?”

It was her control question, like in a lie detector test. He thought she used it to see his mood, to gauge whether or not he was really going to play the game.

“No, freak,” he responded, toeing at her exposed thigh across the couch. “I’m not still in love with you.”

“Fine,” she threw a dramatic hand to her brow, giggling to break the fourth wall. “Your turn.”

He sighed. “Alright, truth or dare.”

“Dare.” She shot him a look with that fire in her eye, the one he’d seen time and time again in the face of real danger. Only now, the only danger was the world outside those four walls, a world without toilet paper.

“Okay, I dare you...” He looked around the apartment for something she could do that would feel mildly entertaining at this point in time.

“I dare you to let me infiltrate your Tinder.” Robin cut him off, grasping his direction with tired movements.

Steve snorted through an eye roll, pulling his phone from between the creases of his legs for her to use. He supposed there wasn’t too much harm. He’d never speak to those women again, best case scenario, and worst case, she’d say something awful and he’d have a girl at a waitress if this self-distancing thing ever let up. Robin wouldn’t say anything awful anyway, being hyper-aware, hyper-“woke”, as they say.

“Yes!” Robin cheered, crawling closer so he could see over her shoulder. He’d gotten yelled at about proximity earlier, but apparently drunk Robin was blissfully unaware enough. He was just happy he didn’t have to think of a dare.

She spent a few seconds swiping, matching a handful of times, but she quickly grew bored of scoffing at girls she didn’t seem fit for her dingus. She switched over to the messaging function.

“Oh my God!” She squawked upon entry.

“What?” Steve laughed, picking apart the names to see what had her so shaken. None of the names sounded familiar or at all remarkable, just a lot of Jens and Jessicas and Stephanies.

“You haven’t responded to any of these women, dingus!” With a sigh of disapproval, she started her journey to find Steve Harrington love, like a virtual set of the Bachelor.

“It looks like you had some rapport with Dana a couple of weeks ago. What was wrong with her?”

Robin scrolled through Dana’s profile. She was hot, curvy, short hair, kind of a badass. She was a hairstylist, it looked like. Her opening line was even about how great Steve’s hair was. He shrugged. “Nothing, I guess.” He wracked his brain to remember their interaction. He supposed it was during a particular Snapchat dry spell. Was it Valentine’s Day? That was a busy Tinder weekend for him.

“Well, I’m messaging her again.”

And it went like that for a half hour, Robin scolding him at poor love life decisions and quickly trying to patch up broken contact with strangers. He was shocked to have received a few responses. People must really be bored.

A few of the women responded “Hey, ghost”, which prompted Robin into drunken lectures about why Steve needs to be kinder to the women he communicates with. He agreed. It’s shitty to ghost people, but he knew Robin would be just as disappointed if he told every woman on the app he wasn’t interested because his heart was still wrapped up in his high school sweetheart, the love of his life.

Finally, Robin had connected with a girl named Roxanne, who owned a parakeet and happened to follow Steve on Insta after their last encounter around Christmas. Roxanne was still single, appreciated his (Robin’s) apology, and was happy to chat about life through the messaging function on Insta. Robin tutted Steve’s head with her hand and sent herself to bed, hiccuping. Her job was done.

— — —

Robin woke him up at 6AM because he was screaming in his sleep. He didn’t remember his dream, though nightmares usually rotated between five set situations. He was either with Byers and Nancy and the lights, or his pool, or the junkyard, or the secret base, or the mall. According to Robin, he was screaming for “Hargrove” to “watch out”. Ah, the mall then.

He was dripping with sweat, and Robin fetched him a large glass of water while he traipsed to the bathroom to towel off. He didn’t look hot, pale skin slightly green, normally lustrous hair clinging to his forehead like rats fighting their way out of the sewer. He splashed cold water over his face, ignoring the lingering doom that tickled at his spine and hung out just over his shoulder.

“There’s pain meds in the cabinet,” Robin called softly.

He swung the mirror toward himself, ducking in the cramped bathroom. The generic brand bottle sat on the lowest shelf. It rattled it his hands as he removed the child-lock lid.

“Grab me some, will ya?” She groaned.

He popped two in his mouth, palming two more to meet Robin on his makeshift bed, covers tangled and strewn on the floor. They traded pills for water, and the cool condensation of the glass felt nice in his hand.

He collapsed in the spot next to her.

“You okay?”

He shrugged, staring blankly at the various liberal paraphernalia on the wall behind her television. “I guess. I don’t really remember my dream.”

“I didn’t know you were still having them.”

“I’m not, really. Just when I like... drink. I think that might be the trigger.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he kicked at her ankle. “I’m the one that pulled it out of the cupboard.”

After a long silence, Robin spoke with the least conviction he’d heard from her... ever. “You know you couldn’t have done anything, right?”

Steve turned to her with furrowed eyebrows, wondering what the hell she was going for here.

“With Billy.” Her voice broke on the boy’s name. “He was long gone. I mean, the shit that was in his system. He wouldn’t have made it anyway.”

Steve felt his face flush, and he ducked his head. He supposed they’d never really talked about it, about Billy, even on their most open of nights. They talked about being tortured, drugged, barely skating back with their lives or at least minimal brain damage. Robin never knew the extent of guilt that Steve harbored for his high school rival, how responsible he felt for the kid’s death. If only they had more fireworks, if only they closed the gate faster, if only he’d hit his car a little harder.

“I know, Rob. It’s just weird. I’ve never seen anyone die before, and I knew him. You know? We partied together. He kicked my ass once. Like, we had lockers next to each other in the locker room.”

“Okay, we might need to unpack that one later.” Her tone was teasing, but soft, gentle with him.

Steve snorted and shook his head.

Robin reached across and pulled his hand into her own. It reminded him of that time on the roof in the rain, before all of the trouble unfolded.

“I love you, dingus.”

“Love you too.”

— — —

Work started the next morning, leaving the two of them propped against the countertop, staring at their laptop screens and sipping matcha from handmade mugs. Steve had been “fortunate” enough to work customer service for his dad, which typically involve emailing people about their various issues with finances. Last week’s stock market plummet had been a fun one. Steve felt overjoyed when Mom convinced Dad to force him to work remotely in order to avoid getting sick.

Robin was a sort of jack of all trades. She did a lot of translation online, transcriptions and whatnot, headphones heavy and covering both ears. She couldn’t hear Steve talking to himself. He might as well have been alone. Occasionally, during the week, she’d hop into her bedroom to Skype her students. She taught private lessons for kids with various woodwind instruments. That alone made her pretty decent money.

Steve found himself drained within the first few days, unable to concentrate and needing an out. Luckily, Robin made up a grocery list and sent him out. She told him to be very careful and only touch the essentials. And that she’d be waiting by the door with soap and water upon his return.

So, he shoved a beanie over his mess of hair and went out. It was cold, for March, and he didn’t appreciate the chill of frost pulling at his nostril hair and giving him the sniffles. One little inhale was enough to send a woman gasping with terror as she crossed the road.

He made it to the corner store and soon realized he’d have to abandon his list. The shelves low of stock, and by the looks of it, they’d be wiping their asses with their hands in a few short days. He got what he could, piling it into Robin’s reusable bag, only touching the essentials. And he made sure to use the self check out on his way out.

He made it back out the cold streets, bags slumped over each shoulder, and his phone started ringing from the buds in his ears. Hands full and incapable of reaching his phone in his back pocket, he struggled to press the tiny headphone in his ear. “Hello?”

‘“Steve? Hey.” Came the soft response of a voice he’d never forget.

“Nancy?”

“Yeah, sorry, is this a bad time? Are you working?”

“No, no, no, no. This is fine. I’m just uh... getting groceries.” A bag slipped down the crook of his arm and he wondered how the hell women carried purses on a daily basis.

“How was the grocery store?”

“Practically a wasteland.”

His heart did a backflip at her chuckle. Nancy’s voice was like a breath of fresh air in the stale, eery climate of a city under quarantine. It was like, as soon as she started talking, he could smell flowers blossoming in the park, feel the spring breeze roll by. She lifted the bitter cold.

“Have you been keeping yourself busy?” She asked.

He shrugged. “I’ve hunkered down with Robin, so we’ve just been watching old movies from the 80s and eating a lot of hummus. How about you?”

“Also 80 movies marathons. What a coincidence.”

“Anything good?”

“Jonathan forced me to watch The Evil Dead finally, and it actually wasn’t bad.”

Steve scrunched up his nose. He wasn’t sure if it was to block the wind or the scent of Jonathan’s name lingering in the air between them. “You turning into a big horror fan then?”

“God, no,” she cackled on her line. “I still prefer staring out the window looking longingly at empty streets. Feels like the end of the world, doesn’t it?” She snickered.

“A little bit, yeah.” He chuckled. “But, nothing we haven’t dealt with before.”

She went quiet then, well, quieter. A knowing...something passed between them. She thought of Barb, he knew, and he thought of her, back to him, arm outstretched with a gun. A pitter of panic surged through him.

“Steve,” she barely spoke.

“Yeah, Nance?” He hadn’t realized he’d stopped walking. He picked up his pace again.

“Do you think this has anything to do with...?” She didn’t need to finish her thought.

“No,” he spat out before he had a proper answer. It terrified him, the idea that people were trapped in their homes, waiting for the world to crumble in vines and flower-mouthed faces. He glanced across the road at a woman delivering groceries to her neighbor. “No, Nance, I don’t.” The two women turned to smile and wave. He feebly attempted to wave back.

“How can you be so sure?” There was the stubborn Nancy he knew and loved.

“Because,” he smiled softly to himself. “If he was taking over, we’d be alone, isolated, sure. But something about this feels like it’s pulling us all together. Don’t you think? I mean, people are bringing their neighbors groceries. Have you seen the amount of instagram lives this week? Dozens. And did you watch that video of Italians singing from their balconies?”

Nancy chuckled. “Yeah, I did.”

“See? If the world was ending, we wouldn’t be so supportive of each other.”

She paused for a moment, soaking it all in before her soft response. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

He grinned, struggling to lift his arm enough to push the button for entry into the apartment building. Robin buzzed him in without question. “Well, I’m back, and I’ve got to put the groceries away.” He climbed the stairs a few at a time.

“Okay. Stay safe. I’ll snap you later.”

“Please do. Thanks for calling.” He wrapped his knuckles on Robin’s front door.

“Tell Robin hi!”

“Tell Byers hi.”

Robin shot him a confused look, giving him a wide berth to dump the bags on the counter and wash his hands. With hurried goodbyes, Nancy clicked off the phone.

“Longer than that!” Robin scolded when he turned off the faucet.

Smiling to himself, he turned the water back to hot and scrubbed for a second time, loudly singing the chorus to Toto’s Africa.

“I hate you.” Robin grinned, unloading the groceries into the pantry.

Steve sprinkled her with water from his fingertips and dried his knuckles with the towel.

---

First, I'd like to preface this by saying my heart goes out to those effected by the CoronaVirus/COVID-19. This fic is in no way making light of this week, I just wanted to write the story stuck in my head. If you would like to learn more about the virus and dealing with quarantine, please head over to my post, where I will drop several links with information including how to sew masks for health care professionals and where to send them in. Thank you and please enjoy!

#stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #stancy #au: modern setting #quaratine fic #just two friends chillin during lockdown

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booksandgalore · 5 years

Text

Mirrors of Pride [Yandere!BTS]

Foreword:

Taehyung's company is enjoyable when he isn't contemplating about the different shades of black-and-white filters. Sure, he cares too much about the number of likes he has on social media.

And, yes, maybe you have to reject taking pictures of him everytime he hands you his phone, but true friends stay with each other no matter what. You just need to overlook his growing vanity, and ignore all the warning signs when he starts talking about someone non-existent.

Author’s Note:

It’s my first time posting (cross-posting) a story on Tumblr! Bear with me as I navigate how to link, edit my layout, etc. Though if you do have an tips and/or pointers on how I can make my blog look more appealing, haha, then I’ll take them. Do leave a comment if you enjoyed it!

The blueberry gelato you purchased was going to melt soon, but you couldn’t even taste it until Taehyung had some pictures of himself with your gelato and his. Currently, you had snapped over fifty pictures, in different angles, too, and you got out of your seat to take more. The sweltering heat made your baby hairs stick on your forehead and all over your cheeks.

”Okay,” you said, handing his phone back. “What do you think?”

You stood behind his chair as you watched him scroll through the photos one-by-one. Taehyung kept zooming in on his face, only to pinch his fingers back out and focus on a minuscule detail like a wrinkle on the right sleeve of his clothing.

“Can you take more on your phone? Maybe it’ll be different,” he requested, peering up from his device to look at you, his neck craned back.

You ran your fingers through your hair and felt the sweat of your scalp through your fingertips. Although you took a shower this morning, you were going to have to shower again later.

Breathing deeply, you brought your phone out of your back pocket and snapped a picture of him in this position. Taehyung immediately took a scoop of his strawberry gelato and held the spoon to his lips. You took a picture, and another when he closed his eyes but still had the uneaten gelato close to his lips.

Then, a drop fell onto his chin. It dribbled down. You were about to grab a tissue off of the table to give it to him until he mumbled that you should continue. You did as he asked. The sound of the camera shuttering was all you guys heard for the next three minutes as Taehyung continued posing in different positions.

“You’re welcome,” you said, plopping down onto your chair. You reached for your dessert and found that it was half liquid. You looked over at Taehyung’s gelato; it was in the same state as yours, and you sighed.

Opening up Instagram on your phone, you started to slouch. Posts about vacations in California, Rome, and Beijing filled your timeline. Or was it feed? You were confused by the verbiage ever since Facebook bought Instagram and honestly where was the FAFSA police when you needed them? These "broke" college students shouldn't be out there living it up. And why were they on vacation when you still had two weeks of spring semester left? Did they take their finals early? When you were done, you handed your phone to Taehyung, who took it eagerly.

“Appreciate it,” he said. After browsing through the photos you took of him, he placed your phone down on his lap as he smiled at you. “I mean it. Thank you.”

You observed the silver rings on his fingers as he tapped on the table in a seemingly rhythmic beat. The rings were pretty. Maybe you should copy some of his style.

“You’re going to Korea soon, right?” You leaned back against your chair and splayed out your legs. A trickle of sweat ran past your neck.

It was really hot outside, but Taehyung wore a dark blue dress shirt, rolled up to his elbows, and had a black t-shirt inside that was revealed when the first two buttons of his dress shirt were unbuttoned. He also wore black ripped jeans. Wasn’t it hotter when you wore darker colors? Beauty was pain, you guessed.

“Only for one month in July.” Taehyung leaned back in his chair as well. “Why? Are you going to miss me?”

“No,” You shook your head, “you’re going to miss me.”

At this, Taehyung laughed loudly, his eyes crinkling. “Get KakaoTalk so I can text you without getting charged there.”

”Why? So you can spam my phone with pictures of yourself? You already have a mirror.” You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Also, how can I get KakaoTalk if you have my phone?”

”You mean this?” Taehyung showed your device in his hand, but he made no attempt to give it back to you. “I can just figure out your password.” He was typing in a random combination of numbers until he unlocked your phone successfully.

Startled, you rose up from your seat as he shielded the phone away from you.

“Relax, I’m transferring the photos you took of me to my phone!” he said, huddling himself into a ball. The people around you stared at him briefly before chatting to themselves.

With the slit of your screen showing through the opening in his posture, you glanced down, realizing he was going through your Snapchat messages and replying back with a selfie of himself. How typical.

“Taehyung...” You grasped his shoulder. “I’m not getting Kakao if you’re being like this.” It was a fake threat, but he didn’t need to know that. Honestly, you wanted him to stop because Hoseok was in your contacts and you knew Taehyung wasn’t fond of his step-brother. If Taehyung found out, when he already confessed these deep feelings of disdain about Hoseok to you, then you weren’t sure what he would do. He had a vanity problem already, and some slight possessive attachment in his friendship with you.

However, Taehyung continued mass replying to your friends.

”Taehyung,” you tried again, shaking his shoulder roughly. He didn’t budge. “Alright, I guess I’m gonna get your phone.”

He straightened up and stared at you. “I don’t have anything to hide, (Name). You know me. Do you have something you want to hide?”

“No.” You swore your heart skipped a beat when the lie rolled out your tongue.

“Then we’ll look at my phone together. It’s only fair, right?” There were moments where Taehyung sounded peculiar, and this was one of them. Was it something in his tone, or was it this… aura that he emitted? Either one led you–dare you spoke of it lest you became a bad friend who misinterpreted things and blew them out of proportion–to be cautious of him.

”Here.” Swiping his phone off the table, Taehyung placed it on your palm. ”The password is two, five, six, eight.” He wasn’t taking his hand away from yours, so you inputted with your free hand the code he gave you. The rings on his fingers provided a cool sensation on your skin despite the ongoing heat from the sun.

“You can check my texts," Taehyung suggested. "You can read through them."

You bit the inside of your cheek while you hesitantly tapped on his conversation with Taeyong, a mutual friend. There were Korean characters you couldn't decipher. The words were too advanced, and you only learned the language when Hoseok taught you sporadically. However, you did catch onto these English memes Taehyung and Taeyong shared with each other. You thought you were invading Taeyong's privacy somewhat as Taehyung encouraged you to keep scrolling.

"See, (Name)?" His eyes bore into your own. "I've got nothing to hide."

"Yeah, me too," you blurted back, letting him keep his phone and yours for now. You returned back to your seat.

Friends need to accept all the aspects that come with a person whether good or bad, you reminded yourself of this as Taehyung scrutinized the photos in your camera roll, eyes trained on his appearance and whatever it meant to him as he explored the saturations and color schemes he could use.

You observed your friend for a few more minutes before redirecting your thoughts to the final exams coming up. The stress to think about the exams rather than on the behavior of your friend had eased your mind considerably. Soon, you began to daydream off-topic about fast cars and towering mansions as Taehyung continued to edit his pictures.

Smiling unconsciously, you then remembered how you were a bit vain yourself. You had three thousand, one-hundred-seventy-five dollars and thirty cents to your name before. The rest of the money was in your latest Fila shoes, and in the latest iPad Pro that you cradled to sleep every night. When your three thousand, one-hundred-seventy-five dollars and thirty cents to your name dropped to a staggering fifty-dollars, you had promised for a new year, new you, and you made a resolution to curb your materialistic tendencies in the middle of sweet old July of last year.

“I’m going to change,” you declared to yourself, browsing through self-improvement articles online. You had another tab open, but you swore on your mother’s grave that you were just living vicariously through a YouTuber’s shopping haul and nothing more.

“I’m going to change,” you said to Taeyong and Jimin, your two closest friends, as you all painted random animals on a canvas. Hoping it will restrain the temptations of eating out and watching movies, you tried to love your newest hobby.

But people didn't change easily.

After all, we make money to enjoy money, you would say as you received your paycheck, the thickness of the envelope sending a familiar rush of adrenaline through the palms of your hands.

Soon summer break had ended and you were left daydreaming in your classes about the salary you'd get from becoming a doctor. You’ll have a stable job and a stable life, your mother would remind you in the living room every so often. You would doodle on the edges of your notes and wish that time could past by faster because you were stuck in a world where you were just you and the you then needed to step up from a measly five hundred bucks. Your fingers couldn't sprint against the piano keys as well as Jill, nor could you code websites in your free-time like Mr. Full-Ride classmate Jaehyun, but you did have money and it was what kept you going.

Money was entertainment. Money was activities. Money was the awe-struck gaze your parents looked at you with when you paid for the restaurant bill at a family outing. Money was whatever you wanted it to be, and it was breathtaking, inspiring, motivating, and, damn, your eyes were bleeding green, huh?

“How do you do it?” you had asked. “How are you so happy the majority of the time?”

“I’ll show you how,” Taehyung replied, one hand holding the strap of his backpack. He took out a hand-held mirror from the first zipper and gave it to you. “You have to love yourself.“

"And how do I do this...loving myself thing?”

“(Name), it’s simple.” He sighed, leaning closer to you to observe himself through his own mirror, a light red tint on his cheeks. “You think to yourself, you are everything you ever wanted.” Almost reluctantly, he peered up from the mirror to look at you, but you felt as if he never truly looked away, as if he was still tracing the contours of his nose and the outlines of his eyes, his lips, through the glare of the glasses perched on your nose.

“Beauty is on the inside.” He sighed again, placing a hand over his chest. “But it can also be made.”

You noticed the slight pout on his lips as he stashed the mirror away. He had never changed since high school. Always staring at himself as he walked past anything reflective, anything that resembled him, and you––

You had been snapped out of your memory when Taehyung voiced out a question.

"Should we go now? We have class tomorrow with Professor Smith at nine in the morning."

"Hm?" You blinked. "Ah, yeah, we should."

You threw your gelato in the trash and bidded a goodbye, heading off to your home. Developing a friendship with Taehyung was a journey, to say the least.

[next chapter]

#yandere bts #taehyung #v #yandere taehyung #yandere kpop #bts #bangtan #yandere #bts taehyung #am I doing this Tumblr posting right #pls like and reblog to show support

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 5 years

Note

Yesss thank you ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ( ˘ ³˘)♥ now I want it written but like,,, too lazy to write it myself and I know you're drowning in prompts

I am drowning in prompts, and other things to write, so I can’t write a full fic.Just the h/c snippet though? I think I can do that...

“Well, I have to do something to be useful, right?” Patton said, voice faux cheery and not in the good way- it sounded forced, and fake, and ugly. “So you’ll have a reason to keep me around!”

All noise in the room died, all eyes focused on Patton, who was looking at the kitchen counter he had been in the middle of scrubbing. They had all been relaxing, enjoying one of the few shared days off the four of them had, Virgil splayed across Roman with his feet in Logan’s lap, all of them on the couch.

The absence of their fourth partner was hard to ignore, Patton bustling around to do laundry and dust and other chores. He had been cleaning down the kitchen when Virgil beseeched him to join them, saying they could clean later, Patton’s worked hard enough, please come cuddle them?

Patton had refused at first, until all of them were asking, wanting to know what was so desperately important about getting this cleaning done now, and his attempts to brush it off all failed until they ended up here.

“Patton,” Logan said slowly, clearly, calmingly, clearly trying to keep a hold of a situation that had rapidly escalated into one none of them were expecting, “why would we, as you put it, need a ‘reason to keep you around?’“

Patton laughed nervously, still watching the counter, one hand grasping the edge of it and the other tapping an irregular pattern out on it. “Why, you guys are all just so great! And you contribute so much to our happy little household- like Roman’s singing to fill the rooms, and Logan’s sticky notes of random facts that cover whichever wall he was nearest too when he learned it, and Virgil’s little spider stickers he places everywhere for fun! I just... just want to contribute something too!”

“You already contribute more than enough, sunshine.” Roman said, worriedly. “You don’t need to do all the work while we’re lazing.”

“I don’t though.” Paton said, glancing briefly up at them, but even in the quick look he gave them before going back to studying the countertop they could all see their were tears in his eyes. “I- you’re all so wonderful, and-and I know I’m lucky to be with you, and I know that eventually you’ll leave- and that’s alright because you deserve better, you really do, all of you deserve so much better, but I just thought that... that if I could be helpful, and u-useful, you’d stick around longer, and isn’t that ugly and selfi-ish of me, but I just- I just-”

Patton’s grip on the counter tightened until his knuckles were turning white, as if all his weight and balance was focused on this one thing, as if he would fall if he let go, as he finished, “I just... I know you’ll be de-light-ed when it’s all over, and I don’t blame you for it, but I’m just so afraid of being left alone... of being left lampless.”

That’s what really broke boyfriends; their happy-pappy Patton, looking as if he might fall over, tears silently streaming down his face as he weakly tried to hide them, cracking puns about them breaking up with him; cracking puns like it was inevitable, like the only reason they were dating him was for some human chore machine and nothing else.

Patton was so caught up in his own world, his world of abandonment and inevitable heartbreak, that he didn’t notice Logan, Virgil, and Roman get up and come over until there were three sets of very familiar arms wrapping around him from every angle. For a brief moment, he tried to struggle, tried to pull away, but there was no where to go and he was too tired to escape them.

So instead he slumped against them, still sobbing, trying to offer a dozen apologies and having all of them gently shut down and shushed as they shuffled back over to the couch, settling down so that Patton’s face was against Roman’s neck, staining the fabric of his shirt with tears as Roman gently rubbed his back. Virgil was hugging him from behind, nuzzling his own head into the side of Patton’s neck comfortingly while Logan combed his fingers soothingly through his hair, occasionally wandering down to try and massage the tension out of Patton’s neck as well.

It took a few minutes, but eventually Patton calmed down, sobs turning into occasional snotty hiccups. He pulled his head away from Roman’s shoulder, and the group rearranged so that Patton’s back was against Roman, Roman’s arms still wrapped around Patton, Virgil and Logan sitting in front of them. Patton was focused on fidgeting his thumbs in his laps, refusing to look at any of them.

“Patton, love, will you please look at me?” Logan asked softly. When Patton didn’t move his gaze from contemplating his thumbs, Logan sighed and reached forward, gently tipping up Patton’s chin so that Patton would look at him. “Why didn’t you tell us how you felt?”

Patton gave a weak half-shrug in response. “’Didn’t want you to leave...” He mumbled. “After all, why would you... why would you want to keep around some useless sad sack?”

Roman made a pained noise in the back of his throat, causing Patton to wince and try to wiggle out of his hold. Roman’s grip around Patton only tightened, however, as he said vehemently, “Dearheart, you are not a useless sad sack.”

“But-”

“No buts.” Roman stopped him immediately, leaning his head so that he could press a little kiss to Patton’s temple. “You are one of the most magnificently beautiful creatures I have ever had the honor of knowing, so often bright and alive even in the face of the fiercest opponents. You cook the most scrumptious of meals where we would burn water, and you fill this house with the truly cheery air needed to make it home. None of that says ‘useless sad sack.’“

Patton giggled a little at that, gaining smiles from all of his boyfriends. “Do you... do you really mean that?”

“Of course he means it.” Virgil answered for Roman, placing a hand on Patton’s knee. It was a little awkward, but he pressed gently down, trying to offer Patton a comforting pressure, like Patton had done many times before to help Virgil when he started to spiral. “We love you, Pat, and you’re, like, our best member. Your the only one who can pass for a semi-responsible adult.” Logan sniffed in insult and Virgil patted his shoulder without taking his eyes off of Patton. “Your last social interaction ended with you telling a middle-aged woman to, I quote, ‘consider going back to elementary school to learn basic manners.’“

“She was being incredibly rude.”

“Adults I internalize that.” Virgil said. Logan rolled his eyes but he didn’t seem too annoyed by any of it, and there was a flash of amusement in his expression when he saw Patton smiling at their antics.

“As I was saying, Pat, you’re the only adult-ish gay here.” Virgil continued. “You are by far the most useful member of this relationship.”

“And even if you weren’t, it wouldn’t matter.” Logan added, taking one of Patton’s hands in his so he rub circles into the back of it. “As Roman and Virgil have expressed, Patton, we care incredibly deeply for you. The advantages you can offer us are irrelevant.

“The only requirement to being a good boyfriend is loving us back, and being a good cuddler.” Roman concluded. “And I can personally attest to the truth in both of these statements.”

Virgil lazily raised a hand. “Same here.”

“I concur.”

Patton smiled, genuinely, at their shared support. “Thanks guys.” He said, looking a little sheepish. “I feel a little silly now, actually...”

“There is no need for that, my dearest heart!” Roman assured him. “It is no fault of yours that we did not realize we were not properly wooing you!”

Logan nodded seriously. “Was an error that falls entirely upon us.” Logan said, a small smile creeping onto his face. “Please, darling Patton, there must be some way we can make it up to you.”

“No, guys, you don’t have to do anything-”

“I think sad boyfriend and misunderstandings call for several hours of cuddling on the couch while ignoring the movies playing in the background.” Virgil spoke up, interrupting Patton. Roman and Logan nodded in instant agreement.

“I’ll line out the movies.” Logan said, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Patton’s hand before regretfully letting it go and settling down beside the Blu-ray player.

“I’ll get blankets and snacks.” Virgil said as well, patting Patton’s knee before he also headed off- in the direction of the kitchen and hall closet.

Patton’s hands fumbled to wear Roman’s were still secured around his waist. “I should go help them.” He said as he tried to tug at the fingers holding him captive.

Roman only tightened his grip in response, however, flopping back on the couch for added emphasis. “nope.” He said resolutely. “You’ve been working too much. You’re sentenced to only cuddling for at least five movies.”

Patton attempted to fight for only a moment more, quickly resigning himself to his fate. Soon enough Virgil and Logan returned, some movie or another starting up while Virgil skillfully bundled them all up in enough blankets to assure none of them would be moving for many, many hours

Leaning more fully on Roman’s chest with a sigh, his other boyfriends pressed up close to him, Patton didn’t mind that at all.

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hopeworldfan · 5 years

Text

RO5EY (2)

summary: you were an idol but didn’t look the part.

pairing: hoseok/reader

word count: 1k+

genre: fluff, angst, idolverse

warning: bullying, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide

Blooms meant the absolute world to you. They were the ones who made it possible for you to have a career that you loved, they supported you and encouraged you through thick and thin, so you tried to give back to them as much as you possibly could. In doing so, you were the most active of your group on Vlive and social media (since your company allowed you all to have your own personal accounts.) It was the least you could do for the people who gave so much to you.

“Hey, guys!” You greeted cheerfully, a wide smile on your face as you sat in your room. “How’s everyone doing today?”

You relaxed back in your chair, scanning the chat log as messages flooded in as people joined the stream.

“Better now that you see my face? You guys are so sweet!” You gushed, framing your face and smiling at the camera. It was hard to not let on just how tired you were after a long day of rehearsing, but you hadn’t streamed in a while and felt guilty. Sleep could wait.

“When are we coming to America? Hopefully soon! I want to see you guys so bad!” You answered with a pout. Your eyes continued to scan the outpour of messages, schooling your expression as the meaner comments started to trickle in.

Fat pig

How disgusting

Why are you in a group with such cute girls, you only bring them down

You should just die

It wasn’t anything new, unfortunately. Ever since the five of you debuted, you always received the most hate, it was commonplace.

“Oh! You guys saw our interview with BTS? They’re all so nice.” You paused to take a sip of your water. “You liked my performance of Cypher? Aww thank you! I was so nervous, it was embarrassing!”

You made a fool of yourself

The performance was terrible

You’re not talented

Kill yourself

“J-Hope is your bias too? We’re bias twins!” You laughed, keeping a smile on your face. The cruel words hurt, of course they did, but you couldn’t let it get to you. If you let it get to you then that means they won, so you soldiered on, chatting with your real fans.

“Advice for unconventional girls who want to be idols?” You paused. That question was a frequent one that was fielded your way. “You have to have thick skin. I’m very vocal about the hate I receive, and it never really gets easier, but sweet fans like you guys give me the strength to power through! As long as I can make one person smile with what I do, nothing is going to stop me!”

You chatted with your fans for another half hour before signing off and slumping down into your chair. What felt like every bone in your body cracked when you stretched your limbs and sighed. It was late, but you had wanted to stream at a time convenient for your American fans and since practice didn’t end until late, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. When in Rome and all that.

Sinking into your plush mattress felt like heaven and you couldn’t help the sigh that slipped out. Tomorrow was going to be another long day of practicing for the next award show performance. RO5EY strived for nothing less than perfection, it’s what was necessary to stay on top, and it’s what the fans deserved. With fans in mind, you forced yourself to sit back up and grab your phone, working on taking a cute selfie to post on Instagram.

Since your company’s sole focus was defying idol norms, it wasn’t a surprise when they let you all have your own personal social media accounts. Though they were monitored by a social media manager, you mostly had free reign to post whatever you wanted, within reason. They didn’t want the reputation of the group getting tarnished by outlandish posts.

After a few minutes of changing angles and poses, one of the pictures was decent enough post and you did so quickly, adding a caption thanking the Blooms who tuned into the Vlive and telling them to be on the lookout for the next one. It was only a matter of seconds before the comments started.

No one cares about your vlive.

You’re the worst member.

Ugly.

Hana had suggested turning commenting off, so did the social media manager. That would have been the smart thing to do, because even if the accounts got reported and suspended, more only rose to take their place. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it though, the whole reason for your presence on social media was to interact with your fans. There was something so amazing about being able to bring joy to someone just by replying to their comment, or hell, even just liking it. So, you dealt with the hate, tried to let it roll off your back, focusing on the positives and trying your best to ignore the negatives.

Just as you were sinking back in your bed, your phone buzzed, and you laughed when you saw it was a text from your leader.

Why are you posting so late? We have a long day tomorrow; you need your rest.

Also, that’s a cute picture.

Practice was intense, but it always was. Youra was a perfectionist and she led practices since she was assigned the role of lead dancer. She was a harsh teacher, never letting the smallest of mistakes slip by, but none of you ever took it personally, you wanted to be perfect.

“And feet together on eight,” She instructed and the four of you immediately followed suit. “Next the dance line has a feature so you two can go have a quick break while we go over this.”

The dance line consisted of you, Youra, and Hana. Out of the three, you were by far the least experienced dancer which meant you always had to work ten times harder to make the work look effortless. Hana was classically trained before she became a trainee, and Youra’s parents owned a hip-hop studio so she’d been dancing since she could walk.

Byeol would have been the ideal third member of the dance line since she was also classically trained, but since Youra and Hana were both vocalists, management wanted a either you or Seung and your poor rap partner was even more hopeless at dancing than you were.

Sweat dripped down your face as you worked to keep up with Youra’s movements. Your muscles burned with every move, ever stretch, but you refused to give up. Dancing had become easier over the years, but it still took you longer to master routines.

“Alright, let’s take a break then take it from the top.” You immediately slumped to the ground the second the words slipped out Youra’s mouth. The cool, wooden floors were a welcome relief against your hot skin.

“Yeah unnie! That’s my rap partner!” Seung cheered, running up and collapsing on top of your pitiful form. You groaned and immediately pushed her off, flopping onto your back.

“Put me out of my misery.” You pleaded desperately but your black-haired friend just laughed.

“You don’t get off the hook that easy unnie.”

“You’re doing really well unnie.” Byeol complimented, walking up to the two of you.

“Thanks, ByeBye.” You said, your voice muffled from your arms covering your voice. Your maknae was always there to shower you in compliments when necessary, she was the cutest person on the entire planet and that wasn’t an exaggeration.

“Hey girls!” A cheery voice interrupted, and you immediately jumped up.

“Jaewon-unnie!”

“Hello Jaewon-unnie!”

“Good morning Jaewon-unnie.”

“There’s our favorite manager!”

“Hiya Jaewon-unnie.” You all greeted. Jaewon was the one who started it all. Despite only being ten years older than you, she was the CEO and one of the founders of the small company your group belonged to. It was uncommon, having a female CEO, but it was also uncommon having a chubby girl as an idol, and that was the whole point.

Jaewon was highly critical of the toxic parts of the K-Pop industry. Her aunt had been an idol back in the day and she saw first-hand the effects the industry had on young men and women. She did her senior thesis on the changes the industry should make. With a few friends and help from her very wealthy family, she founded the company. You all admired her so much, knowing how hard she’s worked to make the company, and your group successful.

“I have some exciting news,” She started with a smile and the five of you crowded her immediately, eager for whatever news she had. “I’ve been in contact with BigHit-”

Seung immediately squealed and you slapped your hand over her mouth, despite the fact that you easily could have had the same reaction. You all knew BigHit, more importantly, you all knew a certain group that was under their management.

“As I was saying,” Jaewon laughed. “I’ve been in contact with BigHit. The ratings for the show you did with BTS were better than either of us thought they would be. Apparently, there was a surge of international viewers. There are talks about a collaboration being thrown around.”

All five of your squealed that time, even Hana, though hers was more subdued.

“Nothing is set in stone yet.” Your manager quickly interjected. “But we’re thinking about doing a series of some sort since there are too many people for one song. If it all goes according to plan, we’re looking at RM and Hana since you’re both leaders, Byeol and Jungkook since you’re both the maknae, Youra with Jimin and V, Seung with Suga and Jin, and (y/n) with J-Hope.”

“Oh my god shut up unnie! Ahh!” Seung shrieked, bouncing up and down in sheer excitement. “I get to work with Suga? Is this a dream? This has to be a dream! Pinch me (y/n)-unnie!”

You automatically pinched your excited companion and she squealed again. “It’s not a dream!”

“Jimin is a beautiful dancer, this is exciting.” Youra grinned.

“With Jungkook?” Byeol’s face was a bright red.

“When will we know more?” Hana questioned, always getting straight to business.

“We’re having a meeting in three days to iron out the details.”

You were frozen solid. A collaboration with J-Hope? Just you and him? You reached down and pinched yourself, wincing at the pain. Okay, not a dream.

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagine #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #hoseok imagine #jhope x reader #jhope x you #jhope imagine #jung hoseok x reader #jung hoseok x you #jung hoseok imagine #jung hoseok #sky writes

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