#but uh. im not sure enduring all that for so long really counts as a win | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

illfoandillfie · 4 years

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You Can Make It Up To Me

Ok sorry if its too late or its already been done just thought id ask anyway, for the 1000 followers celebration why not throw it back to the early days, what about a sequel to "I'll make it up to you" based on another time rog comes home after being away for a while? Maybe reader cant keep to her promise this time? 😊 have been hooked on your writing since I read that fic!! ❤

I’LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), dom!Rog, sub!Reader, edging and denial, chastity belt, oral sex (male receiving), facial, mentions of spanking though it doesn’t really feature, mentions of cockwarming though it doesn’t really feature either, it’s really just a fuckload of edging lmao

Words: 9,307

A/N: Listen, ya’ll should know by now I have a denial kink. You suggest a fic with edging and i fucking run with it.

This was another request from my 1000 followers celebration roughly a year ago. Apologies to the person who requested it for taking so long, I hope you’re still around and you see this!

Taglist: @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies

You’d thought edging for a week was hard. Oh how wrong you’d been. A week was a piece of fucking cake compared to the two months you’d been asked to endure this time. Stupid Roger. Stupid you. You’d been a fool to agree to the edging challenge again. You let Roger sweet talk you and convince you it’d be fun and hot and maybe he was a little bit right. Maybe you were turned on just from the suggestion of being edged for an extended period of time. He knew that and he used it against you as he cooed about how much he loved seeing you desperate and how good it had been last time he’d been away and how much fun you’d had playing with it all those times since, but they’d all been so short and wouldn’t it be fun to go for longer. And that was all very true, but you’d still been an idiot to agree to it. Two months! What had you been thinking? You supposed it could be worse. They could have been doing the whole tour in one hit, leaving you with much longer to get through. But that was by the by really. You’d never have lasted longer. You hadn’t even lasted the two months you’d agreed to. Roughly half a month from Roger’s return and you’d fucked up. Gone over the edge without meaning to. And he was going to call at the previously agreed upon check in time and you’d have to tell him and then be punished when he got home. Maybe you could distract him, get him talking about the tour and stuff. Technically you were meant to save all the chatting for the end of the week when he could call earlier and spend longer on the phone but maybe he’d be so homesick he’d forget about the rules you’d agreed on. Or maybe you could just lie about it and get back into your edging routine and still be the same drippy mess he expected to find waiting for him on his return. Ten minutes until he was supposed to call. You had to make your mind up now.

“Love?” “Hi Rog,” You were still apprehensive about the call but the weary drawl in his voice softened your worry, “you sound tired.” “Only just got back to the hotel, how’s my girl?” “Good, how are you? How’s the tour going?” “Love, you know this isn’t a social call, it’s a check in.” Damn. So much for distracting him. “Sorry, I just miss you.” “I miss you too Y/N.” “So let’s just talk for a minute.” A feeble last ditch effort really. “We can talk. About how your edging is going. Tell me what my slut’s been up to.” Double damn. “I’ve been edging Sir,” “Good. How many times today?” “Six.” “Only six?” “I, uh, I got caught up doing o-other things and, um, didn’t have as much time today,” you hoped he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating. “Is that so? This from the same slut who told me about how she’d been so desperate while driving the two minutes to the supermarket that she’d pulled over halfway to knock one out.” His weariness seemed to evaporate with every word, “What were you doing that was so distracting?” “I- um, it was, um,” He let you stutter and sweat a little before he cut you off, “I’m starting to think you weren’t too preoccupied. I’m starting to think you disobeyed me.” “It was an accident,” you sighed, “I was edging and I slipped up and came. I’m sorry.” “Oh, love, that’s okay. Mistakes happen. And I know we’ve never done it for this long before and it must be so hard to keep stopping.” “It’s so hard!” you half laughed, relieved at his reaction. “I know. You’ve done so well.” “Thank you,” “But you know I will have to punish you when I get home right,” “Sir?” “Not because you slipped over the edge, that I understand completely. But you tried to hide it from me. So you’ll have to make it up to me.” “Yes Sir. How?” “I’m not sure yet. Have you edged much since you went over?” “No, I haven’t touched myself at all. I wasn’t sure I could start again and keep up with it.” “That’s okay. You did such a good job getting this far so we’re not going to worry about edging any more for these last…how many? I think ten days of the tour, whatever. You can have as many orgasms as you want. But I want you to keep count for me okay?” “Okay, yeah, I can do that.” “Yeah? That’s my girl. Why don’t you run grab your vibrator and let me hear you have one now,” “Now?” “I need something to wank to if I’m going to get to sleep any time soon.” “Right, give me two minutes to grab it.” “Take your time, love.”

You hurried to the bedroom to pull open the draw where you kept your toys, not wanting to keep Roger waiting longer than you had to. Your fingers slipped a little as you quickly plugged it into the wall and positioned yourself, picking the phone up and pressing it back to your ear. “Okay, I got it,” “Let me hear it,” You turned it on for a couple of seconds. “Good girl. Now, what are you wearing?” Despite how worn out he must have felt Roger took his time. He made you describe the underwear you wore and told you how he wanted you to touch yourself over your knickers, made you tease yourself while he listened. He told you where to put the vibrator and on which setting and for how long. And you followed every instruction as best you could. You could feel the weeks of edging like every unachieved orgasm was gathered in the pit of your stomach. They made you ache for release. You told Roger as much, less eloquently, begging and whining rather than full sentences. There was a fear he’d lied about letting you cum or that at the very least he was going to make you wait for it. But he didn’t. All you had to say was please Sir and he told you to let go. He didn’t need to tell you twice. Relief washed through every inch of you as your pleasure cracked moans subsided. But he wasn’t finished, and he wasn’t going to let you off so easily. He gave you half a minute to catch your breath and thank him and then he told you to put the vibrator back against your clit. When you whined about being sensitive, he mocked you. His poor pathetic slut who was so worked up she just had to have an orgasm. “But I haven’t had mine and I told you I wanted to listen to you while I got off.” You came again as his grunts of release echoed down the phone line and he let you stop. But he was gentle as you caught your breath, soft words of praise making you feel warm and treasured. He made sure you were okay, reminding you to drink some water and get some rest, before he wished you goodnight, the tiredness returned to his voice, stronger than ever. But his parting reminder to keep count and expect his call the next night sent a shiver down your spine.

Over the six and a half weeks since Roger had left you’d grown accustomed to X-rated dreams. Most nights ended with an edge or two and most mornings began the same way so it was no wonder your dreams quickly picked up the theme and ran with it. In them Roger returned early to surprise you and fuck your brains out. Or else he took you on tour and dressed you in skanky clothes that left nothing to the imagination so he could use you whenever he needed. Sometimes he’d share you with rooms full of men you didn’t recognise but understood worked with the band. Once or twice you’d woken up on the verge of release and cursed dream Roger for being so arousingly evil. You hadn’t expected to have one of those dreams after Roger overstimulated you on the phone but you woke the next morning grinding against the bunched up sheets, with a vague memory of Roger plowing you over his drumkit while a crowd of fans cheered him on. It wasn’t until you were rubbing the sleep from your eyes that you realised it couldn’t have been real. And it was followed by a moment of panic that you’d gone over the edge in your sleep before you remembered everything. The recollection brought a smile to your face as your fingers slipped between your legs. Still a little sore but you could avoid your clit, focus on trying to imitate the way Roger could finger fuck you to orgasm. You were laughing as you came, blissed out on just the notion of being allowed an orgasm. And not just one, as many as you wanted. It was tempting to take another just because you could but instead you forced yourself to get out of bed and start your morning routine. Of course you had to make some adjustments. You’d taken to edging in the shower each evening but instead you allowed yourself the luxury of a bath, coming with the tap gushing directly into your clit. And instead of mindlessly edging while you spread out on the couch and read, you let yourself get off to the erotic novel you were halfway through. It was incredible, even without Roger there to help. The tingle you’d get right before it hit, the one that used to make you pull your hand away. And then the rush of the actual release that made your whole body tense up before relaxing completely. You’d grown so accustomed to edging, gotten so used to the constantly building high that never ended. Actually being able to finish was like a drug and you kept going back for another hit. It was five times when Roger called though he made you do a sixth, once again explaining what he wanted, asking you how it felt. You didn’t complain, didn’t even consider it.

It was the same most days though the number of orgasms you got out declined as Roger got closer to coming home. You were guaranteed one with every call he made to check in on how you were going, but more often than not it ended up being two or three. And he’d always ask for how many you’d had that day and then your total number of orgasms. Whenever you gave him the new numbers you could hear the scratch of a pen as he wrote it down. The night before he returned you reached thirty-nine. “Thirty-nine?” Roger let out a whistle that made you chuckle. “You wanna hear one more? Make it an even forty?” “No,” “Oh, really?” “It’s hilarious how disappointed you sound. But I think I’d like to give you number forty myself, in person.” “I suppose I can wait for that,” “Not long to go,” “You gonna miss touring?” “Yeah, a bit. But I’m gonna be even happier being back home with you.” “Getting to use your slut more like,” He let out a soft, breathy laugh, “There’s that, but also just getting to sleep in the same bed as you sounds so good right now. And your tea. I haven’t had a decent cup since I left.”

You held off on the last orgasm, looking forward to one at Roger’s hands and not just his voice. A little hint of denial to round out the separation. A nice way to bookend the experience, even if you hadn’t managed to last the whole time. But your days of free flowing orgasms meant that his return wasn’t like last time, when you’d be so desperate for release you’d tried to jump him on the front steps. You could wait, let him get settled first. He’d probably want to shower, maybe eat something better than the plane food, maybe sleep off some of the travel, before sex even crossed his mind. Or rather, because it was Roger you were talking about, he was probably thinking about sex already but he’d want to make sure it was good for both of you even if that meant waiting a day or two. So you did what you could to make his return more comfortable, making sure the kettle was on when he arrived, calling out from the kitchen when you heard the door open. He greeted you with a tight hug and a soft kiss and followed it with a contented sigh as you handed him his favourite tea cup and led him out to the couch. He pulled you in close, entwined your fingers again as you chatted and relaxed. You figured that’s how the rest of the afternoon and evening would be, that you’d order take out and stay on the couch until you were ready to shuffle off to bed. So, when Roger’s hand, palm still warm where he’d been holding the teacup, landed on your thigh and began to creep higher, you were a little surprised. “Remind me what your total number of orgasms was again,” “Uh, thirty-nine Sir. But we don’-” “So you didn’t sneak in one more after I hung up?” “No, I wanted to wait for you.” “I’m here now,” “You sure you don’t want to rest? I can wait a bit longer,” “Love, I’ve spent the last however long sitting on a plane, think I’d like to do something a little more…physical.” You couldn’t stop from giggling, couldn’t deny your excitement at the turn the afternoon was taking. “Is that a yes?” “Yes, definitely.” “Then why don’t you go to the bedroom and strip. I’ll finish this perfect cuppa and meet you there. We could do your punishment too, if you’re up for it.” “What’s the punishment going to be, spanking or something?” “Or something,” he said with a laugh. “Okay, yeah, let’s get it over with then,” Roger just laughed again as he leaned forward to kiss you and then sent you on your way.

“Good girl,” he cooed as he entered the room and saw you kneeling on the bed, your clothes scattered around the room, “You wanna know what your punishment is?” “Please,” “Well, because you tried to get away with cumming without permission, I’m going to edge you again. I think one for every orgasm you had sounds fair, don’t you?” “What? But…” “But what, love? You didn’t think I was going to give you a little spank and then forget about it, did you? I can’t have my slut thinking it’s okay to lie to me.” “But you said I could have those orgasms,” “I know. They were a reward for trying so hard to hold off for me. I’m not punishing you for accidentally going over the edge,” he stepped towards you as he spoke, reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing over your skin softly, “Sorry, I should have been clearer when I left that I wasn’t going to be upset if you didn’t last. Two months is a very long time and it’s hard to keep edging when you’re on your own, especially if you’ve never gone that long before. All I wanted was for you to try and you tried so hard and did so well. I couldn’t be prouder. But then when you did go over, you tried to keep it from me and that’s not on. I expect you to tell me when something like that happens. Otherwise what’s the point in agreeing to all this submissive stuff?” “Sorry, Sir, I know I should have told you,” “Thank you but you’re not getting out of it so easily. Lie back for me,” With a deep breath you did as he asked, shifting against the mattress to get comfortable. “Remind me what your safe word is,” “Red, Sir,” “Good, don’t be afraid to use it if you need to.” You nodded as you watched him walk to the cupboard, your hands already rising over your head in anticipation. He chuckled when he saw you waiting, “so you agree then, I need to tie you down.” “Thirty-nine’s a lot, I won’t be able to stay still,” “Of course you won’t, you’re a needy whore who likes to cum more than’s good for you. Spread your legs for me too, I’m going to tie your ankles.” You did as you were told, earning another chuckle from Roger as he took one wrist and tied it to the corner of the bed frame.

He made you wait there, on display and unable to move, spread eagle on the bed, as he stripped down to his briefs and then stood over you, looking you up and down as if deciding how best to torture you. “Already a little wet,” he said softly, fingers brushing over your pussy. You stayed quiet, worrying at your lip. “I said,” he slapped your thigh and made you jolt, “Already. A little. Wet.” “I’ve been thinking about this since your last call, Sir.” Another slap, this one directly on your pussy, “Hmmm, thirty-nine orgasms in ten days and you’re already asking for more? Such a good slut for me. I’d have loved to see what kind of a mess you were by the time you accidentally came.” You whined as his fingers teased your entrance but he ignored you and kept talking. “I’ll do my best to get you dripping again now but I think I might need to give you a hand getting started, huh,” his fingers left you as he moved to the draws and pulled out a small tube of lubricant. He spread a dollop over two digits before slipping them inside you easily. Instinctively your hips rose to meet him, encouraging his fingers to sink deeper into you. “Maybe I’ll give you a few weeks break and then we might try again, see if you can’t go the whole two months while I’m here. I’ll help you be a good girl, keep you from going over. And then we can see just how drippy you get. I imagine you won’t be able to wear knickers for more than an hour before they’re soaked through. But it’ll make you easy to use. A self-lubricating little toy for me to play with. So desperate and needy.” He grinned as he stretched you out, using his other thumb to collect some of your rapidly pooling arousal and spreading it over your clit, paying close attention to how you jerked in your restraints, watching for any sign of the release you weren’t allowed, “You like the sound of that?” “Y-yes, Sir,” “Thought you would. I definitely do.” He shifted the position of his fingers seamlessly, almost second nature. “Fuck, close, ‘m close,” He pulled both hands away from you, smoothing them over your thighs, “Thank you for telling me.” The familiar disappointment of a subsiding orgasm made you sigh but otherwise you kept quiet, not wanting Roger to hear you complain after just one edge. The first of many. Roger waited thirty seconds before he started in on you again, enough time for the orgasm to completely disappear so he could slowly rebuild the pleasure to the same point before he pulled his hands away again. There was another half minute pause before he repositioned his fingers where you so badly wanted them to be and began building you up once more. “What a pitiful little whine that was. And we’re only just getting started, love.” Roger stilled his fingers as he laughed again. “Fuck,” “Maybe. If you’re lucky. But for now,” he curled his fingers inside you, watching every reaction closely as he pumped them into you, stilling as you neared the edge again. He didn’t remove them though, just held them in you as you calmed so he could begin again as soon as you’d settled. “That’s three done, thirty-six to go,” You groaned but nodded your acceptance. Roger played you as well as he would any of his instruments, keeping you right at the edge as you jerked and jolted in your restraints, desperately trying to get just a little more, one more thrust, one more stroke, anything to finally feed the craving. It was blissful torture. But it was so much better with him physically there. Edging for him on your own was fine but nothing beat the way it felt to have him do it for you. The pure submission, the total lack of control. He owned your orgasms. You willingly gave them to him and now he owned them, controlled them.

Roger enjoyed it as much as you did, the evidence becoming clearer with every pleading whine you gave him, though you were too distracted to notice. It only became obvious to you how turned on he was when he got up to take his underwear off and your eyes fell to his erect cock. He settled himself back between your legs and tapped the head of his dick against your sensitive clit. “What d’you think, slut? Should I fuck you now?” “Please,” “Awww you really want it don’t you?” “Yes, yes Sir, I really want it,” “My good little whore likes Sir’s cock, doesn’t she?” “Yeah,” “Especially in her cunt,” “Yeah,” “Yeah. But we have a problem.” Roger shuffled over you, straddling your hips, “See, it’s been a while.” “Months, Sir,” Roger chuckled, “Exactly, months. And I just worry that I’m going to enjoy being in your cunt again so much that I forget to edge you. And I don’t want that. Not after you’ve been so good for me.” “It’s okay Sir, you can fuck me. I promise I’ll be good,” “I know you would try to be good, but accidents could happen and I’m not ready to let you cum yet, even accidentally. What kind of a punishment would that be? So, instead, I’m going to use another hole I’ve missed, okay?” You agreed, though really it didn’t feel like you had many other options besides taking it or safe-wording and you definitely weren’t ready for things to end. “Good girl,” Roger cooed, leaning forward to kiss you softly before he repositioned himself. You giggled as he somewhat clumsily turned around, but the laughter died as he moved to kneel over your face instead. “Sir?” Roger wrapped his hand around his cock, “Yes, slut?” “Can I have my hands please?” “I think you can manage without them,” Roger said, “But how about this?” He leaned forward to release the ties around your ankles before settling back, his bollocks resting against your lips. He seemed to be waiting so you opened your mouth, laving your saliva over them with your tongue. “Good girl,” Roger hummed as you sucked one testicle into your mouth, a small part of you hoping that if you did enough, he’d be lenient and reduce your punishment. “If it get’s too much, stamp your foot okay?” You raised your legs so your feet were flat on the bed and stamped one to show you understood. “Good girl,” Roger said, pressing a kiss to your knee before he readjusted his position, letting his cock find your mouth.

At first Roger contented himself with rocking slowly, letting you grow comfortable with the position. You had no control over how deep he pressed into you or how often but he kept his movement measured and careful, making sure he wasn’t overwhelming you, and you kept up as best you could, running your tongue along his length and sucking on his head. It got harder when he leaned forward and attached his lips to your cunt. The distraction of being edged with his tongue made you lose focus as you bucked your hips in a weak attempt to get more pleasure. Which meant you were taken by surprise when he suddenly thrust into your mouth, pushing himself into your throat. You wished you had your hands so you could grab his arse or jerk him off, but you made do as best you could, eyes watering as you moaned and he gave another sharp thrust. As he got closer to release he slid deeper into your throat, unable to control himself as easily while he was concentrating on edging you again and again. Each time he’d tell you how many edges he’d given you but you stopped listening. Between the jolts of pleasure from his tongue licking along your slit and the weight of his body on yours and the strain on your jaw as you kept your mouth open for him and the dizzying gasps of air you sucked in as he remembered himself and pulled out of you before sinking back in just as deep, everything else seemed fuzzy and distant. Your hands grasped at thin air in an attempt to break loose and touch him and your hips rose to meet him until he held them down. You moaned around his cock and whined with each new edge which only seemed to spur him on. At some point, after you weren’t sure how many, Roger decided he’d had enough of edging you like that and sat up a bit higher on his knees. He gave you a brief warning and let you take a few extra breaths before he fucked your mouth for real, unrelentingly using you for his own pleasure. You knew he was getting closer by the way he was grunting and the small twitches in his cock and you tried to prepare yourself for a mouthful of spunk, tried to ready yourself for how it would feel when he came on your tongue. But then he stopped and pulled out of you entirely. You were surprised by his sudden disappearance as he swung his leg back over you and got off the bed. Surely he wasn’t going to edge himself along with you? Surely he was going to use his release as another way to torment you, telling you how good it felt and mocking you for wanting the same. It was hard not to feel a little disappointed too. Especially when you could see how hard he was, his flushed tip proof of how close he’d been. “Sir?” you croaked out, voice scratchy and throat sore. Roger ignored you, as he walked back to the end of the bed, wiping his mouth and chin. “Sir, didn’t you want to finish?” “Awww, did the whore want my cum that bad? Don’t worry slut, you’ll get it, just not to taste. I’m going to put this load where it belongs. In my cunt.” You gasped as Roger pressed the tip of his cock into your heat, bracing yourself for the rough fuck he was sure to give you. But there was no thrusting, no pushing deeper. He held his tip inside you as his hand slid up and down his shaft, pulling himself over the edge with a grunt.

You were left squirming and aching to be filled, to feel him inside you properly, as he left the bed again and moved towards the cupboard. A combination of your juices and his dripping onto the sheets. You knew what was coming but that made it all the worse. “Do you remember how many I said you had left?” he asked as he plugged the wand vibrator in and gave it a test pulse. “No Sir,” “No? You really should, I said it only a few minutes ago,” “I don’t know Sir,” “Well it’s a good thing I know then. Otherwise we might have had to start all over again and kept better count.” You trembled at the idea, part terrified of it happening, part wanting it to. “You only have to last 5 more. Not very many, is it?” “No Sir. I can do five,” “I know you can. Because you’re such a good girl for me. My good girl. You ready?” “Yes,” you swallowed thickly and took a steadying breath waiting for the buzz of the vibrator to start again. Roger made you wait a little, building the anticipation and the tension as he refrained from doing what you expected. He let the soft head of the toy rest against your clit, laughing when you jolted at the contact. And only once you’d stilled did he turn it on, leaving it on the lowest setting. Instinctively you tried to move your still unbound legs, but Roger gave you a slap to your thigh and warned you to behave or else he’d tie you down again and give you extra edges. You whimpered a small, “Yes Sir,” as you did your best to keep still though it got harder with each edge. Roger was careful to pull the machine away as soon as he saw signs of your impending orgasm, never letting you get too close lest his reflexes be too slow. He didn’t want any accidents to happen now, not after he’d been edging you for so long. He counted down each one, giving you ample breaks between to calm yourself again. When you finally heard him turn off the vibrator and say you were done you cried grateful tears. He untied your wrists and pulled you into his arms, soothing you with soft words of praise and gentle touches.

“How do you feel?” He asked softly once you’d sufficiently calmed, leaning back and placing his hand on your cheek as he studied your face. “Bit sore. Really want to cum. But good.” “Yeah? You’re okay?” “Yeah I’m okay. Might need a few minutes before I can do more though. The fortieth orgasm I mean.” “That’s alright. In fact, it’s perfect because I’ve got a surprise for you.” “A surprise?” “Wait here, I’ll grab it from my suitcase,” You nodded, intrigued, and leaned against the bedhead to wait, letting your eyes close for a moment as he left the room. Roger returned and handed you a glass of water and box tied off with ribbon. You were definitely curious now, the box larger than you’d been expecting. You pulled at the bow with one hand as you drank with the other, letting Roger lift the lid from the box. You didn’t understand what you were seeing until Roger explained. “It’s a chastity belt,” You almost did a spit take. “I saw it while we were exploring the shops of one of the towns we were in and I thought it might be fun to try it out, if you’re interested.” You placed the cup down and reached into the box to pick up the metal device, “Looks a bit medieval, doesn’t it,” Roger chuckled and agreed, “We don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But while I was edging you I thought maybe it would be fun to make you wait a few extra days,” “You want me to wear it now?” “Only if you want to. If I’m being honest, I hadn’t planned to show you today. I was going to save it for after the rest of the tour, but you know how impatient I can be,” he laughed, his hand falling to your rub softly over your knee, “If you’d prefer to cum now I will very happily make that happen. More than once. But if you did want to test it out I’d also be into that.” “How would it work?” “Well, um, you’d wear it all day, when you’re at home and when you go out. The guy who sold it said it’s very discreet and will go under most clothes without showing. You have to take it off once a day to clean it so I was thinking that you could wear it all day and take it off at night when you have your shower. That way it can be cleaned and dry out over night and you wouldn’t have to worry about it not being comfortable to sleep in.” “And um, how would, uhhhh, bathroom stuff work with it?” “Well, there’s a slit at the front that can be opened so you can pee but isn’t it kind of hot if you have to ask me to unlock it every time you have to go to the bathroom?” “I hate to admit it but yeah it is,” you laughed. “I could also unlock it for other reasons. Maybe if I really really wanted to fuck you.” You shifted excitedly. It had been too long since you’d had Roger properly, and especially after his little teasing stunt just before, but you tried to sound more casual as you said, “That’d be fun,” “Think I’m probably more likely to use your mouth though. So much less hassle.” “It’s kinda unfair that you promised me number forty and now you’re not going to pay up,” “I’ll give you forty and forty-one and forty-two and as many more as you can handle. Right now if you want. Or after a few days of having your cunt locked away.” You stomach clenched at the thought, “How long were you thinking?” “I don’t know. The part of me that likes symmetry says ten days since that’s how many days of tour were left when you stopped edging. But really anything you want is okay with me. If you tried it for a day and decided it wasn’t for you that would be completely fine. And, like I said, if you don’t want to do it right away we don’t have to.” “I think I want to. Maybe just a day to start, see how it goes. If I want another day I’ll let you know.” “Really?” You laughed at how excited Roger seemed, “Yes, really.” “I fucking love you,” “I am very loveable,” Roger laughed and pulled you into a kiss.

He joined you in the shower, helping you wash off the sweat and other fluids left from the torture you’d just been through. You took turns washing each other’s hair as you relaxed together, letting the hot water sooth any aches you felt. But there was a layer of excitement too and a few nerves at the prospect of wearing the chastity belt. Once you were thoroughly cleaned and dried, Roger helped lock the belt into place before you both got dressed. It was an odd sensation but thrilling too. It made you hyper aware of your own desperation. Every time you moved, sat down, you were reminded of how impossible it would be to touch yourself or get any sort of release. You only wore it for a few hours that first day, asking Roger to unlock it when you got up to change into your pyjamas. Together you worked out how best to clean it and hung it up ready for the next day. Roger kissed you good morning when you woke and asked if you wanted to try a full day of it. You agreed and, after visiting the bathroom, let him once again fasten the belt into place. It was even more thrilling the second time. In part because you had a better idea of how it operated, how it felt to wear it, but also largely due to wearing it out of the house. Roger decided to take you out for an early lunch, grinning cheekily as he made the suggestion. He knew full well you’d spend every minute of the excursion with your mind on the belt, wondering if anyone could tell you were wearing it. He was right. But it only made you wetter. Once you were home Roger checked in with you, asking how it was going and if you were still interested in wearing it. “It’s good. Still feels a bit weird but not what I'd call uncomfortable. It’s just very obvious to me that it’s there. But fuck I’m horny,” Roger laughed, “that makes two of us. I swear I’ve been half hard since I put it on you. Was even worse when you asked me to unlock it so you could pee.” “Jeeze Rog. I’ve been edged and denied, what’s your excuse?” “Shut up, there’s just something super hot about me holding the key to your cunt,” You chuckled, leaned towards him and gave him the most sultry look you could muster, “You know you could use that key whenever you want.” “Maybe later, love. Right now I really should unpack my bags, do some laundry.” “But that can be done any time,” “So can you,” Roger laughed, leaving you with a kiss to the temple. That night, after you’d taken the belt off and cleaned it, Roger edged you again, kissing you as his fingers explored your slit and your hand pumped over his cock.

On the third day Roger disappeared into the back yard with a guitar. A question about the grocery shopping list sent you seeking him, and you found him sitting on a chair under the shade of a large tree, plucking at the strings. It was almost a shame to interrupt what seemed like such a serene moment. He spotted you though and waved you over, pulling you onto his lap. His fingers moved to the front of you shorts, seemingly automatically, but he stopped and chuckled when he met the firm resistance of the belt. “Oops,” “Forgot did you? Lucky,” “You're not enjoying it anymore?” “No, no, I am, but I’m also getting really frustrated,” “Yeah?” “There is literally no way to relieve any pressure when I’m wearing it and you keep edging me before bed and honestly I want you to fuck me so bad like I just feel kind of empty all the time cause it’s been so fucking long since I had more than your fingers in there and I'm used to just being able to pull out a toy and make myself feel better even if I’m edging. It’s fucking torture not being able to touch anything and not being even a little bit in control of my own pleasure.” “Do you want to stop?” “Hell no. I just want you to fuck me,” “Oh really?” he chuckled, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised my slut likes being completely denied,” You recognised his tone, the one that meant he was pent up and wanted to take it out on you. Hope that he’d do it, that he’d unlock you and give you a good hard pounding, made you sit up a little straighter. Your head was buzzing with ideas of Roger filling you with cum and locking you away again, but they were interrupted rather rudely by Roger growling at you to kneel. You nodded, a little disappointed but more just happy to get some sort of attention, and settled on your knees, intently watching as he stood and unbuckled his belt, the jangling noise of the metal sending another wave of desire through you. He’d barely managed to push his pants down just low enough to get his cock out when you reached out to stroke him, mind so thoroughly focused on him that you barely noticed the itchy tickle of the grass under you. But before you could he slapped your hand away. “You’re here to watch. Open your mouth and stick your tongue out. C’mon needy whore, I don’t have all day.” You nodded as you did what he said. Roger waited, watching you for any signs of impatience but soon rewarded you with his fingers, two of them sliding towards the back of your throat until you gagged. He pulled back and then did the same thing again, slowly beginning to fuck your mouth with just his digits. You could feel saliva pooling on your tongue, his fingers gliding through it until they were slick and shiny. That’s when he moved his hand to his dick, slowly spreading your drool over his shaft. You whimpered as he brushed his thumb over his tip, letting out a small hiss at the contact. You leaned forward slightly, intending to lick his length and replace his hand but he stopped you, his free hand holding you in place, and you realised what was happening. He knew you wanted to be fucked and he was going to deny you that as well as your orgasms. He wasn’t even going to fuck your mouth. All you could do was sit there, whining and watching as he jerked himself off. Every so often he dipped his fingers back into your mouth, either to gather more of your spit or just to hear you gag, you weren’t sure which. A small part of you hoped he’d just push you down onto his cock but as his hand sped up, expertly pleasuring himself, that hope withered away. He was close. You could see it in the way his smooth strokes stuttered, hear it in his groans. If you’d looked up you probably would have found flushed cheeks, and lust blown eyes, but you couldn’t drag your eyes from his cock, right in front of you, pulsing as he neared his release. And then he came with a guttural moan. You jolted as the first drops hit your cheek, but he was already holding you in place, making sure you stayed still until he was done.

Roger looked down at you, the fist still milking his cock slowing down once more, though he didn’t release himself. You swallowed thickly, shifting on your knees as the temptation to wipe your face and get up rose. “Stay there, slut,” Roger said softly, reading your mind, “you look so good on your knees. Just a toy I use to masturbate with.” You nodded, agreeing, your eyes already drifting back down to his dick. “You want it don’t you? Wish I’d just use you properly,” You nodded again. “If you’re very good I might...” he lay his cock on your tongue, “let you have it,” It took all your strength not to close your lips around his girth as he rubbed his dick over your protruding tongue but your resilience seemed to impress him. Slowly he pushed himself deeper, allowed you to suck on his head for a moment. “Maybe I should use this time you’re all locked up to train you. Teach you to be a filthy oral whore.” The suggestion made your cunt throb but there was nothing you could do to alleviate the desperate desire to be touched. Not even squeezing your thighs together helped. “I’ll teach you to be so desperate to suck cock that you won’t ever want to take the belt off. And when I decide to use your cunt you’ll wish it was your throat,” Roger pulled himself from your lips and you were once again forced to watch as he wanked in front of you. Right up until he stopped and walked behind you. “Sir?” His presence came close again, right up behind you, “Shhhh, slut, I’m still here,” Roger gripped your chin from above and tilted your head back slightly. “Fuck you look so hot like this, drives me fucking wild to see my little toy all soaked in cum. Close your eyes,” You did, heart racing with the uncertainty of what he might be planning. There was a tap on your forehead as the tip of Roger’s dick landed there. “I’ll reward you with some more edges tonight. Maybe I’ll even give you a ruin, if you’re very lucky. I want you so desperate that all you think about is my cock. Twenty-four seven. So desperate you’ll beg just to be allowed to suck me off.” You couldn’t see what Roger was doing but you felt it when he came again, jizz running from your forehead down the side of your nose, onto your cheek and over your top lip, dripping onto your waiting tongue. Roger stepped back and you heard the zzzziiippp of his fly being pulled up followed by the jangle of his belt, but you didn’t move. He stroked his fingers down the side of your neck, offing you a soft, “good girl,” as he moved back round to take in your appearance. “Jesus this is….you look so fucking hot,” you could feel the breath of his laugh as he leaned forward, his thumbs brushing over your closed eyes, making sure they hadn’t been caught in his crossfire, “alright, you can open your eyes now, and close your mouth if you want,” You carefully opened on eye and then the other, able to taste Roger as you swallowed what you’d caught on your tongue. “Did that make you feel any better?” “I don’t know if I’d say better. Wetter? Definitely.” “You’re a bloody poet, love,” “I try. You wanna help me up or did you have more in you?” Roger held out his hand with a chuckle, pulling you to your feet. When you were closer to eye level he paused, eyes roaming over your face, and then leaned in to peck you on the lips. It was unexpected but appreciated, though not quite as much as the damp face cloth he used to clean you.

The next morning Roger asked if you’d like to put the belt back on and you said yes. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day. Each time he reminded you that you were allowed to say no and then, when you assured him you knew that, helped lock it into place. At some point (and sometimes at multiple points) during the day he’d use your mouth, only needing to click his fingers for you to drop to your knees for him. He made sure to compare you to vacuum cleaners and other objects. Metaphors that would normally have made you roll your eyes or tell him he was disgusting, but which now turned you into a whiney wet mess. Admittedly they weren’t all good. The time he said you had a mouth like a black hole you’d nearly choked as you started laughing with your lips already stretched around him. He’d apologised and said he’d cut back on the sci-fi comparisons so you could finish the job properly. At night you’d have a shower and change into pyjamas, often forgoing PJ pants since Roger liked to edge you while you weren’t wearing the belt. He’d slip his fingers into your panties while you watched TV or as you were settling down to sleep. But not once did he try to actually fuck you. It was infuriating and frustrating and such a turn on. Until it stopped being hot.

You’d woken up that morning as excited and enthusiastic about the belt as you had been the previous few mornings but by the afternoon it had started feeling uncomfortable and oppressive. You came to the conclusion that denial and edging was fun but you needed a more definite time period to work within. When Roger had left and said you’d be able to orgasm again when he came back in two months’ time, that had been exciting and hot because there was a time limit. A light at the end of the tunnel that you could see and count down to. Something to aim for. Denial wasn’t just about not cumming, it was about challenging your own expectations of yourself and maybe trying to beat your previous record. What you were doing now didn’t have that specificity, that goal to work towards, and it was beginning to feel like you were being punished for nothing. The constant empty ache you felt didn’t help. Of course denial usually came with aches and desperate needy feelings but something about this time was different. Usually Roger would relish fucking you as much as possible, all the time telling you not to cum or else he’d have to spank you. It was always hard holding back as he took his pleasure but it was rewarding too and it helped relieve the tension that constant edging could cause, even without finishing. Sometimes, if you’d been good and he wanted to be nice, he’d give you a ruin as well. And even if he ended up being mean and leaving your arse pink and smarting from his blows, you got a certain kind of enjoyment from it. But with the chastity belt and the refusal to fuck you, you weren’t getting any relief at all. After thinking through it all, you decided you needed a break from the belt. It would be fun to try again another day but maybe with more discussion and certainties. You looked over to the other couch where Roger was stretched out. “Hey, Rog?” “Yes, love?” “I think I want to stop.” Roger looked away from the TV, his attention shifting to you, “You mean with the belt?” “Yeah. I think I’m close to using my safeword. It’s just feeling kind of not good at the moment. Can you please unlock me?” “Okay. Of course we can stop. C’mon, I left the key in our room,” Roger held out his hand for yours, brushing his lips over your knuckles as he pulled you up.

You sighed with relief as you stepped out of the belt, already feeling better, if not a little embarrassed by just how obviously wet you were. Roger stood, about to say something, but you pulled him into a kiss instead, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “Well,” he said with a laugh, “I was going to ask what else I could do to make you feel better but I think you’ve made it quite obvious,” “Need you Rog. Literally need. I’ve never meant it as much as I do now,” “Jesus, okay,” he was already fumbling with his fly one handed, “We really did a number on you, huh,” You nodded, dropping your hands to help him get his pants off. As soon as the zip was down he kissed you again, leading you towards the bed. “How do you want me?” “Don’t care, just fuck me,” “For as long as you want,” Roger pushed on your shoulder and you fell back onto the bed, watching as he kicked his pants and underwear off. You whined when he took too long but he soothed you with a kiss and then more down your neck, until he met the neckline of your t-shirt. He didn’t bother removing it though, just squeezed your breasts through it. You were glad, sure you’d implode if you didn’t have him immediately. Instead he kissed your lips again, fiercely, as you reached for his cock, willing him to hurry up and get hard enough. As soon as he was ready he pushed your hand away and pressed into your cunt with an ease that was somewhere between ridiculous and pathetic. “Fuck you’re soaked,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. Even if he had been speaking to you, you’re not sure you would have heard, much too preoccupied by how full you suddenly felt. It was such a contrast from the previous week of aching for it and all you could think to say was thank you, over and over as Roger slowly fucked into you. “You gotta stop squirming so much, love, or I’m gonna slip out,” You clenched around him at the suggestion, smiling when he tightened his grip on your thigh. Roger brought his fingers to your clit, circling it as you whined, your orgasm already so unbelievably close. It didn’t take much more than a couple of light circles around your clit to tip you over the edge. You weren’t sure you’d ever cum quite so hard from quite so little stimulation but you could barely speak, your breath catching in your throat along with your voice. Roger kept his fingers in place as he calmly thrust into you, egging you on, pushing you through the most well-earned orgasm you’d ever had. But he was by no means done with you. He gave you a few moments to calm and catch your breath, and then he shifted your legs over his shoulders, one at a time as you tried to brace yourself. He sunk deeper with the change of position, picking up his pace to fuck you harder, keeping a firm grip on you so that, even though your back arched and you writhed under him, head falling to one side and then whipping around to the other, you’d remain in place on his cock. With every thrust, every squeeze of his fingertips, you felt yourself drawing close to the edge again and you begged Roger, through gasped breaths, not to stop. He didn’t. He wouldn’t have even considered it until you told him to. “I can feel how close you are, love. Come on, cum for me. Show me just how much you like being fucked and cum,” “yes, yes, fuck yes,” “That��s right, good- good girl, f-fuck you’re tight. Fucking feel your cunt pul-sing. You’ve missed that feeling haven’t you?” You just nodded, head still foggy. “Think you’ve got another one in you? Or do you want me to stop?” “No, don’t stop,” Roger chuckled and pulled out of you as you whined but it was only so he could flip you onto your stomach and pull your hips up. Before you could even begin to complain about the sudden desertion, he was back inside you, pulling you back onto his cock as he rammed into you. “I want to hear you this time. You know I like how loud my slut gets,” There was no way you could deny a request like that, not when he was making you feel so good, filling you so perfectly, giving you exactly what you’d so desperately needed. You babbled for him, a mess of curses and half conceived thoughts about how good it felt mixed with whines and moans. And that only made him fuck you harder, until you came again, screaming his name. He fucked you through it, though he grunted with each thrust, holding off his own orgasm until he was sure you were satisfied. You swore you nearly came again as he spilled himself inside you before both of you collapsed bonelessly to the bed.

You complained when Roger pulled out of you again, but he did make a good point about not wanting to crush you. And he made up for it by pulling you close and kissing you as much as he could, in between checking how you felt and if you were okay now. “Yeah, better,” you sighed, running you hand over his arm, “I really really needed that,” “I could tell. Sorry I made you wait so long,” “No, it was fun too, the waiting. But not forever, y’know.” “Yeah I do. If you ever want to try the whole chastity belt thing again we’ll be better, figure out how to make it fun again,” “Sounds good. But maybe not for a while,” “No, not for a while. I like fucking you too much to give it up again so soon,” You laughed at that, leaned in to kiss him again. “You’re probably too tired but, uh, I could go again if you wanted,” “Now?” “Maybe a minute?” “A minute sounds good and I’m not too tired. But if I was, maybe we could sleep like that, with you in me?” “Really?” “I don’t think you’ve grasped quite how badly I’ve wanted you since you first showed me the belt, how badly I still want you,” “I think that can be arranged then,” he laughed again, kissing you once more as he rolled back over.

#my writing #my fics #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #absolutely wild that any of you have been with me since IMIUTY tbh #i was so unsure about posting that sldjslkds #and now i just casually chuck out 9k words of filth #also #a lot of chastity stuff is about wearing them constantly #which is hot but not realistic #because if you dont clean them and give your body time to breathe #it can lead to UTIs and stuff #so if your gonna play with a belt and you have a p****#make sure to take it off intermittently #anyway #can someone please lock me in a belt and idk maybe mock me when i start to beg

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mariesdameron · 3 years

Text

Marie Sacker & Clyde Logan (KillersmileClyde) Part I

TW: Drinking, Vulgar language, Violence i.e. throwing items around and yelling, brief PTSD and suicide mention, brief mention of past trauma with abuse, emotional distress, plus size bullying mention

Word Count: 3,112

This is a roleplaying scene between @mariesackler & @killersmileclyde

Backstory:

Marie and Clyde have been friends for quite a while. This takes place in Marie Sackler Personal Au RP story line that has Marie, single and on her own.

Marie and Clyde have been nursing feelings for a long time but something always interrupts any action from progressing. This is what erupts:

Take note that italicized means action.

Please gentle on my editing. Roleplaying can be trickery to edit together.

Marie Sackler:

My hand grips the door handle fiercely. Its now or never. I had time to think about the prior evening. And the more I thought about it the more I felt like I could scream. How long had Clyde and I been friends? And how long was there an undeniable chemistry between us? Was it always going to just sit there right under the surface? Or would we ever be more? It needed to be addressed but what would the outcome be? Did he even care for me really? I wasn't looking for a quick lay. I actually gave a shit about Clyde. I took a deep breath and walk into Duck Tape.

KillerSmileClyde:

I worked behind the bar, not noticing Marie walk in until she was standing next to the bar exit, leaning against the bartop staring at him with a stern look. Hey darlin' how ya feelin' today?

Marie Sackler:

Hey, I am.. okay. I look around the bar seeing a few patrons. I am not sure what I was thinking storming up to Duck Tape like this. I bit the inside of my cheek.Can I have a gin and tonic, please?

KillerSmileClyde:

Sure I fix the drink quickly, sensing something is bothering her. Wanna talk 'bout it? We can... uh... go to my office...

Marie Sackler:

Thank you. I take the glass and drink most of it.Yeah sure why not, lets go to your office. I can hear the tension in my voice.

KillerSmileClyde:

Clyde grabs a bottle of water before leading her back. I sit down on the couch and pat for her to sit beside me.

What's goin on sweetheart?

Marie Sackler:

I opt to not sit next to him but prop myself against his desk.

Why do you think there is something going on? I just thought I would you know swing by, like I always do.

KillerSmileClyde:

My face scrunches in confusion what? You're acting weird. I thought ya liked comin' by the bar... rubs my hand over my face

Ya come in all hot n' heavy today like ya got a chip on yer shoulder.

I ain't done nothin' t'ya

Marie Sackler:

I take a deep breath.

No, you are right you haven't. You have done nothing to me. NOTHING. But everyone else seems to get a go. Why is that? hmm? I mean I don't really want to just be another fucking mark on your belt thats for sure. But for fuck sakes.

I grit my teeth, and ball my hands up. All kinds of emotions fall over me; anger, jealously, sexual aggression, softness. I grab the water Clyde brought in and open it in anger.

KillerSmileClyde:

My jaw drops as she spews every thought on her mind, snatching his bottle of water for herself I... uh... dunno what to say rubs hand across the back of my neck I don't want ya t'be just a notch in my belt neither... y'know I'm no good at this...I'm stumbling trying to find words to express what I feel.

Marie Sackler:

I watch Clyde's face contort in emotion. It crushes my heart. He is too pure of a soul and I was hurting him already. This is not what I want.

I am sorry, Clyde. I have a lot of emotions that I've been fucking holding back for a while now. And it sucks watching you be the most popular man in town and I am.. I am just overlooked.

Like I said I can't stand the idea of just being a one night of fun for you. That's why I haven't pressed the matter. But I am tired. And you just seem to be everywhere and I can't get you out of my head. I come by to see you because you bring me such happiness just being around you. You have so much warmth in you. You are such a good friend......

I choke down pending tears.

KillerSmileClyde:

Oh.

I look up from the floor to find your eyes glassed over with tears you refuse to let fall

You're never overlooked,M'sorry I ever made ya feel that way. Seeing ya is always the highlight of my day. I worked my mouth... the words sit hard on my tongue.

I... I'm scared. Cause ya are my friend, one o' my best friends since day one... and I'm scared t'lose that

Marie Sackler:

I nod silently feeling my heart sink. I always feared the same thing.

The last thing I would want is to lose your friendship Clyde... A traitorous tear slides down my cheek. My chest hurts suddenly, my heartbeat pounds in my ears.

I am sorry, you're right Clyde. We are best friends. I shouldn't of said anything. It's silly. I mean you don't need another woman chasing you around. Bro's over hoe's right? A weak laugh fell from my lips.

KillerSmileClyde:

My face grows angry at your words. What? What did you just say? I rise to stand up at my full height, walking to stand in front of you against my desk, effectively pinning you in place.

I don't ever want to hear you speak o'yerself like that again. I turn slightly and rub my hand over my mouth, eyes pinching near closed. Is that really what you think of me? That I'm out here just fuckin' 'round gettin' my dick wet? I thought y'knew me better than that...

Marie Sackler:

Clyde's sudden energy shift, surges adrenaline through her veins.YOU ARE OUT FUCKING EVERYTHING! I roar in his face. I am surprised your back isn't fucking broken! How many women have you been with since we've been friends CLYDE LOGAN? How many? You think I didn't notice. I mean its not my business who you fuck but do not stand in front of me and pretend you are some fucking altar boy. I mean I think I heard about some kind of massive orgy at Duck Tape once..I poke his chest fiercely. I can't believe you.

KillerSmileClyde:

My mouth curls into a snarl. Are you fuckin' kiddin me? That's real smart comin from the girl who got shit faced drunk just a few nights ago and walked into a strangers room, stripped, and groped him! Then stayed in his bed! Spit flies from my mouth as my voice raises in frustration. I am always fuckin' here for you... offerin' food and a safe place t'nurse yer hangover or an ear when ya had a bad day. CAUSE I CARE Marie!

Im pacing the room now. y'know what. I ain't gonna say I'm sorry... cause I'm not. I never got attention from girls growin up. They all wanted Jimmy. Then I went overseas and came back fucked up. No one wanted me then neither. So yeah, I'm getting attention. Call me a man whore, I don't care. It makes me feel good and I deserve that. After all the shit I've been through I deserve to feel good. My voice cracks with emotion as tears form in my eyes.

Marie Sackler:

My heart smashes behind my ribs. Don't you dare Clyde. Don't you fucking dare try to pull this card on me! You know that I know about your past. I know what you have endured from your injuries overseas. And fuck Jimmy! He only draws in the airheads!

My nostrils flare as I move towards the door. I want to reach out to him and cradle his head against my bare breasts, kiss that prolific nose. I see the tears in his eyes, and it feels like the wind has been knocked from my lungs. I want to feel his smooth hair in my fingers and caress his painful, invisible scars.

Don't talk to me about pain Clyde.. I know pain too. I know what it's like to be the girl that's always overlooked, you know. How about being the fat girl in school that is ALWAYS THE FUCKING BEST FRIEND! I scream, punching the door. I am reliving my teen years every fucking time I come into this bar and see all the women that get to have your undivided attention.

KillerSmileClyde:

WOMAN... are you blind? This is my job ... it's work. I talk and flirt and I get bigger tips, which y'know PAYS MY GODDAMN BILLS. I pull my hair in frustration, groaning loudly. If ya wanna hit and break shit, let's do it. I pick up and throw the lamp from my desk, shattering into pieces on the floor. Go head. But if I hurt ya so damn bad every time ya walk in that damn door, why the hell ya keep comin' back? Huh? If I'm nothing but a painful reminder what's the point anyway...

I hated the words coming out of my mouth as I said them. Pushing people away before they could drop me was the only way I could protect myself. Even though, I knew I would be crushed if I never saw her again. Hating myself for making her feel like I had. She deserved so much more than I could give.

Marie Sackler:

The crash of the lamp hurls me into fight or flight—too many memories of waking up to the sounds of screams and broken glass. Oh, okay, so you are a fucking whore then!

The anger spills out of me like poison. I grab a nearby paperweight and fling it into the opposing wall. It smashes, leaving a hole in its wake.

Why do I keep coming back? That's a good fucking question. Tears stroll down my face as I yell. Why do I? Because you are the purest fucking person, I've ever met. It is fucking INFURIATING!

Without looking, I grab the picture off a nearby wall and smash the frame over my knee; as it drops to the floor, staring back up at me is a photo of Clyde with his Marines squad, full-bodied and smiling. It snaps the already unraveling coil inside of me, and I scream in frustration and sadness. Tears rushing down my face, I heave open the door and move back into the bar.

KillerSmileClyde:

The physical display of her emotional turmoil slapped me in the face as I saw my most prized possession, a picture of me and my brothers in arms, before I lost part of myself, shatter on the floor. I grab her wrist before she can make it past the door, pulling her back in and slamming the door.

NO! Ya don't just get to storm off... we are finishin' this... now. I take a few deep panting breaths trying to collect myself.

Ya can't have it both ways Marie. Ya can't call me pure and a fuckin whore. That don't make no sense. I huff out a groan. I wish you could see yourself like I see you. This incredibly smart, wickedly funny, don't take no shit kind of woman.

No one else would dare talk to me the way you just did. Honestly, if it woulda been anybody else I woulda knocked em out, no questions asked and not felt a single thing. But you... ugh... FUCK! I kick my desk as I turn and walk away.

Marie Sackler:

I grit my teeth at his grasp on me, hauling me back into his office. Intuitively my body tenses, and the instinct to fight, to survive, kicks in.

Are we really going to get that definite with our insults, Clyde? Pure, as in you have a good heart. You know what I meant. I tell you all the time, how wonderful you are. It's no fucking secret. It's never really been that much of a mystery, has it? How I feel about you?....

You stand here crooning my praises now? You have no problem humming pretty words in the ear of those little things that come into the bar every night. You have feelings for me, Clyde Logan?

You have a fantastic way of showing them. How many women have been staying at fucking Casa' Logan? Don't try to pull the emotional card on me!

How many times did I see you 'go get supplies' out back with Claire while I sat in this very bar nursing a drink? How many nights did you stay at Desiray's? I mean, I thought you had fucking moved in with her...

A shriek tears through my chest.

I sound like a jealous asshole!

I thrust open the office door, causing more frames to fall from the wall. I propel into the barroom.

KillerSmileClyde:

I stomp after her back into the bar. Marie stop. Everyone else get the fuck out! I can tell she's fuming but she stays in the bar, the last of the faceless patrons fumble out the door. What in the actual fuck Marie?

I've never seen you act like this. You don't get to come in here and treat me like I'm the fuckin asshole when you're guilty of the same fuckin' shit. Ya done some shady shit too and I don't throw it back in your face.

Even years ago when you were obsessed with that asshole Adam. I don't get it. I know I'm not perfect... but damn... ya ain't gotta act like such a fuckin' cunt.

Shit. I pull my hair and yell as i throw a chair into the jukebox, immediately regretting what I said, I don't mean it. I'm hurt because her words are true. I've treated her like shit and she called me out on it. So if I'm hurting she will too.

Marie Sackler:

I could scarcely comprehend; the offense that fell from his lips. I hardly hear the chair splintering and rattling to the floor. This night, his words, they cut and wound me intensely-wind is knocked from my chest; this man is one of my most trusted and dearest friends.

This is who we are? When we are all stripped down? I lock my gaze with his dusky amber eyes. Wordlessly, I step to him and halt inches from his broad chest; tilting up my head, I hear his labored breathing. Without warning, I strike his face—the vibration of the impact reverberates throughout the bar.

Fuck you, Clyde Logan Logan! I slam my balled-up fists into him, shoving him back.Leave me be then! Fuck off! I swallow down the urge to fall to the floor and sob.

KillerSmileClyde:

The vitriol that had spewed from my lips was too much. I knew it. You knew it. But nothing could take back what I said. The damage was done. The sting that bloomed across my face with the harsh impact of your hand made my head ricochet back and forth. It was like a dam broke within me.

"Fuck me? NO...FUCK YOU! ...using my full fuckin' name like you're my momma or some shit.

When your fists pushed me back I nearly fell, stumbling over my own feet. Your words 'leave me be' break me. My jaw drops as i watch the emotion roll over you, threatening to drown you. I finally find the courage to speak again.

...Marie... I... I'm sorry.

Shame floods over me and I lose every ounce of resolve I had. I don't even remember why we are fighting, other than I'm a piece of shit who always ruins everything. Jimmy thought so, being a shitty look out, Mellie just pitied me. The Bang Brothers thought I was just a simple minded hick. The fucked up thing is I didn't even realize I fucked up the greatest thing I had, Marie, until it was too late.

Hit me... I deserve it.

I whisper and drop to my knees before you, offering myself for any punishment you deem necessary. When I look up at you again, silent tears are falling down my face.

I'm sorry for everything. I understand if you never wanna talk to me again. I know I can't take back what I said and bein' hurt doesn't make what I did right. I'll do anythin' to fix it... please Marie... just say somethin..

Marie Sackler:

His dark waves cascade over his face, veiling his downcast eyes. I feel it, the hurt in every word. I know his heart is destroyed; I know Clyde Logan. This is what makes this so hard. Clyde's a good man, a kind, loving man. But, it couldn't cancel the words. It doesn't erase the long-held feelings, the canceled plans, and seeing him waste all of his love on one night stands and summer flings; when I've been standing here the whole time... I shake my head slowly, tears freely spilling onto my blouse.

"Thank you...for the apology. You're right. It doesn't change anything. It shouldn't have had to come to this for everything to be revealed. I am sorry too.

I am sorry that I came here tonight.

I turn to leave DuckTape.

KillerSmileClyde:

There are a few moments where your words don't register. My brain refusing to believe any of this is real. It must be a dream. No. A horrible nightmare. That must be it... but the sound of the wooden floor creaking under your feet as you turned to leave reminded me it was real.

I hadn't dreamt of loss since the accident. For some reason this hurt even more than losing my hand. What did I do then? When I wanted nothing more than to curl in a ball and let the world waste away around me, swim out too far just to float away until no land was in sight. Did I give in? No. I fought. With every tooth and nail I could, I fought to get back what I had lost. Today would be no different.

I mumble to myself oorah.... I try to stand, to chase after you like they do in the movies but my boot toe catches against the loose board and causes me to trip midway up, one foot and opposite shin on the hard floor. My left forearm arm rests on my bent leg, my words are a broken whisper that can barely be heard.

Marie... please...

Marie Sackler:

What is meant to be a whisper comes over me, similar to a whirlwind.

“Marie...please..."

I turn and see Clyde on one knee, scarlet faced, tears running down his cheeks. The sight of him springs a sob buried within. I let go of the door handle and move slowly towards him.

Please, what Clyde? I bite my cheek to restrain myself from coming undone as I study the pain etched in his face. His eyes bore into mine, I want to blink away and look past him, but I can't. The tone in my plea is gentle but resolved.

"Please...what..?

#Marie Sackler Personal Au Rp #killersmileclyde #ADCU RP #Angst #Fluff #Clyde Logan RP #Clyde Logan

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cloudywriter · 4 years

Text

vanilla pudding cups - 2

~~~

A/N: hey guys, sorry i changed the name but i really hated the first one, it didn’t really fit. in a few chapters you’ll get the new title, but anyway i like it much better! im sorry if this chapter isn’t the best, i kinda pumped it out bc y’all were liking it & i like making people happy ya know, enjoy luvs

masterlist & AO3

~~~

Feyre woke up with a surprising amount of energy, usually she felt fatigued and spent most of her days lounging in her bed with earbuds in and a sketchbook laying in her lap. She decided she would use this new found energy to tape up her accumulating pile of various sketches she wanted up on her wall.

She threw on a pair of loose, grey sweatpants and white t-shirt, stained with her attempts at using charcoal, soon setting out on her voyage to acquire a ladder.

Surprisingly, it was an easy task. All she had to do was sweet talk the maintenance guy a little bit, throw in the whole I have cancer and she had a ladder leaning against her wall in no time.

Rhys, however, had a less pleasant start to the day. Alis had let herself in that morning with a plate in one hand and the same clipboard in another.

She informed him that unfortunately his day would consist mostly of testing and scans to determine just how bad it was. She left Rhysand to get ready and eat his breakfast of rubbery, bland tasting eggs and one of those nasty little plastic cups of mixed fruit.

As the day went on, Rhys lost count of how many needles punctured his skin and how many cups of contrast solution he had to gulp for his scans.

Finally, he fell back into bed later in the evening feeling drained, though he had barely lifted a finger. But the mass amount of poking and prodding he endured only cemented in his mind that he was truly right back where he started a year ago. The realization was mind-numbing.

He hadn’t even called Mor, Cassian, Az, or Amren to ask for their support. He didn’t feel like he had had the time to truly mourn the life that had become his over the last few months, the life he was losing. He needed a moment, when he got a moment he would let himself fall apart. For only a moment before he would have to put back on the mask of the Rhys his family had come to know. The Rhys that wasn’t afraid of death, the Rhys that still had faith that he could make it, that this new battle wasn’t a lost cause.

In truth, Rhysand was terrified of the idea of death, of leaving them behind. To think of the lives they would live without him was like a punch to the stomach, the kind that leaves you sprawled on the ground struggling to suck in air.

Just as his mask began to crack, just as the tears began to prick his eyes, as the sinking feeling in his stomach intensified, and the air felt heavy, too thick to breathe properly, the faint sound of a violin captured his attention. It was a small tether keeping him anchored to reality and he felt the pull.

Before he could fully comprehend what he was doing, he had slipped out of his door and was outside of another; the one that was undoubtedly the source of the violin.

It felt as if he was watching himself in a dream as he pushed open the door.

And there she was.

A nostalgic feeling as if he were reliving a fever dream took root. A girl was sitting atop a metal ladder. The setting sun sent light streaming in through the floor to ceiling window, illuminating her; her long, honey-colored hair was glowing gold. Her skin was pale, without any hint of a tan but her arms were dotted with faint freckles as if she had once spent all of her days basking in the sun. Strips of tape lined her fingers and she held the dispenser between her teeth, her free hand holding a piece of paper to the wall.

Rhys found himself staring at her rather than making his presence known. The combined sound of soothing classic music emitting from a laptop on the bed and her sun-lit silhouette had him mesmerized. She honestly looked like an angel in the flesh, if angels wore sweat pants and oversized, charcoal stained t-shirts that is.

As soon as Rhys started to regain his wits a screech came from behind him.

“FEYRE ARCHERON, GET DOWN FROM THERE!”

Rhys and the girl, Feyre, both spun to face Nurse Alis who stood in the threshold.

He heard the ladder groan behind him, the patter of bare-feet on tile, and the warmth of a body came to rest next to him.

His head pivoted to look at her to find she was already examining him herself.

She looked him up and down then met his gaze. Her eyes were vivid, so blue with a ring of grey around the pupil and they were so full of life. The same soft freckles that decorated her arms danced across the bridge of her nose. Her left cheek had a smear of charcoal across it. A small smile came to her lips as their eyes meet. He thought she really was an angel.

“Feyre, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She broke eye contact, “I’m hanging up some of my sketches.”

“Using a ladder? Alone? You could fall and crack your head open! And I’m your assigned nurse! They’d blame me and then I’d have to scrap your brains off the floor while looking for a new job!” Alis cried, eyes wide.

“I guess that sounds like a less than pleasant afternoon for you,” Feyre considered.

“Uh huh, less than pleasant. Where the hell did you even get a whole ladder?”

Feyre shrugged, “Tarquin, the maintenance guy, and I are pretty cool.”

Alis rolled her eyes. “You guilt-tripped him with the cancer card.”

“Works every time,” Feyre looked satisfied with herself.

“Yeah, well, next time guilt him into supervising you too.”

As their short exchange came to a close, Alis’s face lit up, “I see you met our newest resident, Rhysand.”

Feyre gave me another glance. “If you count meeting as found him staring at me then sure.”

Rhysand felt his cheeks and neck heat as the embarrassment that that is literally what he did set in.

“Sorry,” he began to sputter, “I-I heard the music and just ended up in here, I’m sorry, I swear I wasn’t trying to be a creep.”

Feyre gave him a playful smile and held out her hand.

Rhys hesitated only a moment before taking her smaller hand into his.

Instead of usual, mundane introductions, Feyre ripped off the bandaid.

“So, you’re dying too?”

Rhysand’s stomach didn’t drop as he heard the raw words, he felt weirdly at peace in her presence.

“That’s what they tell me.”

Alis cleared her throat, “I hate to interrupt this heart-warming exchange but I was actually here to grab Rhysand for a moment.”

Feyre tore her gaze from Rhys. “Oh, okay,” her shoulders slumped a microscopic amount.

Quickly, Rhysand found himself being led down the hallway, the calm aura dissipating. He wasn’t fully listening as Alis explained that they needed to draw a little more blood, his mind just kept wondering back to you know who.

He tried to focus his attention to his hands as he always did when getting blood drawn when he noticed: a smear of charcoal had been left across palm.

His lips tugged up at the corners ever so slightly.

~~~

hope this is alright! kinda cliche but what are you gonna do? also leave a reply if you wanna be tagged in updates i think that’s a thing people do lol.

#feysand fanfiction #feysand #feysand fanfic #acotar #acomaf #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #acotar au #feysand au #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyre x rhys fanfic #vanilla pudding cups #are you dying too?

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queenmendes · 5 years

Text

things are changing | pt 1

shawn x reader x connor

Summary: you are Shawn’s best friend and on tour with him but how will things change after he starts dating Camilla? Lucky for you, a certain videographer is your shoulder to lean on.

Word Count: 1800ish

A/N: wow, so a lot of you enjoyed the sneak peek I posted! Thank you all for the love on it and I hope you enjoy the first part of this! Let me know what you think! I was going to write so much more but decided to do a small little series instead Xxxx p.s I think I spelled her name wrong but i don’t really give a fuc ✌🏼

+++++++++++++++++++++

“Sorry, maybe next time.”

“I’m with Camilla.”

“Actually, I have plans with Camilla later.”

Those were a few of the many excuses you have heard since you rejoined Shawn on tour. Shawn has been your best friends since birth practically. Your parents were close so naturally, you two became friends early in life. Since the beginning of his singing career, you have been there. Flying out to see him as much as possible to waking up at 2 am to help him through his anxiety, to even enduring many late nights in the studios, despite having no musical talent, because he wanted your opinion. Shawn was your shoulder to cry on; the one you had movie marathons with every time he came home. The one that helped you study for exams, despite not knowing what any of it meant. Shawn was one of your people. It’s always been him, you and Brain.

But things have changed since you came back on tour. His constantly hectic schedule wasn’t the problem. Shawn was caught up in his new relationship and was leaving you behind. You weren’t necessarily jealous or envious, but it hurt that he didn’t seem try and find time for you, his best friend. It hurt even worse that he didn’t realize how much this was affecting you. Someone else did though. Since Shawn was constantly busy, Connor has taken it upon himself to fill the gap.

“I don’t know how you do this every day.” You said, leaning your head against his shoulder as you helped him edit the new footage from the past previous shows. Well you say help, but really you just made comments on everything he did to mess with him. His video was amazing; he truly was talents with a camera. Currently, you two in his hotel room in Miami before the show.

“Trust me, this is the worst part.” Connor said, eyes glazed over from staring at the computer screen for too long. His stunning blue eyes still bright as ever though. You stood up and flopped down on the bed, that was next to the desk Connor was working at. “Hey, hey. We don’t rest until we finish.” Connor stood by the bed now.

“But, I’m sleepy. And technically, this isn’t my job, so there is no ‘we’. ” You tease. Connor raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, is that so?” Before you could say anything else, his fingers attacked your sides, sending you into a fit of loud laughter. Despite your attempts, he did not stop tickling you. The only thing that saved you was the knock on the door that echo throughout the room. “You got lucky.” He smiles before walking over to answer; you took the chance to wipe the tears from your eyes and catch you breathe. The smile bright and big on your lips, however.

“Hey man. It’s time to go to the arena.” Brian said at the door. Connor nodded and the two walked further into the room. “What did I just walk into?” Brian smirked at your currently place on the bed. Your hair and clothes were disheveled from trying to get out of Connor’s attack.

“Shut up.” You pushed the red head playfully as you stood up, straighten out your clothes and smooth your hair. “He decided to attack me.” Connor gasped in horror.

“I would never do such a thing.” His hand on his chest, a fake insulted expression on his face. Brian rolled his eyes at the banter between you two but smiled. It was good to see you laughing again; he knew how much it affected you that Shawn wasn’t hangout with you.

“Hey, no one has seen Y/N in hours. Do you guys know where she is?” Shawn frantically walked into the room. The singer paused, sighing in relief at the sight of you. “Thank god. Where have you been?”

“With Connor. I was helping him edit his footage.” You said, and the playful mood changed into something more serious when you saw the way Shawn eyed Connor.

“Oh please, all you did was eat my candy and question my decisions.” Connor teased you. You stuck your tongue out at him, like the child you are. Shawn just stiffly stood there.

“Well, we need to leave to the arena.” Shawn said after a moment of just staring. You awkwardly nodded, grabbing your bag from the chair as Connor got what he needed. Brian silently watching the exchange, as Shawn left without another word.

“Hey, don’t think too much about it.” Brian whispered to you, as the three of you followed the tall, curly head. Your expression reminded him of a kicked puppy as you stared after your best friend. Nodding and placing a smile on your face, Brian wrapped his arm around your shoulder as walked to the elevator where some of the team was waiting.

Connor winking at you when you made eye contact, causing you to make a goofy face back. The two of you laugh lightly as the elevator doors opened; neither noticing the Shawn’s envious eyes watching.

+++++++++++++++

The next day was a free day in Miami. A bunch of the team decided they wanted to spend the day at the beach, and you were completely fine with a relaxation day. A knock sounded throughout the hotel room you were in.

“Open up, open up.” Brian repeatedly banged on the door. You rolled your eyes at his impatience’s but still let him in. “Finally. Come on, I am starving. I’m withering away as we speak.” Brian dramatics were amusing.

“I only wish to be as dramatic as you one day.” You mocked but grabbed the bag on the chair and walked out the door with him following.

“Not possible. I’ve been perfecting it all my life.” Brian played along as you stopped by Shawn’s room, to see if he wanted to eat with you. You knocked on the door, much more gently than Brian did previous. It only took a few seconds before the door swung open, and there stood the tall rockstar. He smiled at you, which you returned.

“We’re getting food before we head out with everyone else. Wanna come with?” You asked cheerfully. Shawn didn’t answer, staring at you instead; the happy, bright look in your eyes made you glow, and look absolutely stunning. “Shawn?” You asked, knocking him out of his trance.

“Uh, sorry, what?” Shawn asked, glaring at Brian, who gave him a knowing look.

“Do you want to go eat with us?” You asked again, your tone hopeful. Shawn gave a small, regretful smile.

“Oh, I’m actually going to eat with Camilla.” Shawn confessed, his heart hurting at the look of disappointment on your face. You tried your best to conceal it though, but he knew you too well. You just nodded.

“Next time, man.” Brian said. “We’ll see you at the beach.” The red head led you down the hall, where Connor was just coming out of his room. Shawn watched longingly as your face brighten when the LA native hugged you. An unfamiliar feeling filled his body at the thought of someone else making you smile like that; someone that wasn’t him.

“Hey, actually, I can raincheck with Camilla.” Shawn said, rushing down the hall to joining the small group. He already knew this was going to piss Camilla off, but he didn’t care once he saw how your eyes gleamed of happiness at him joining.

“Are you sure?” You politely asked, not wanting to make him feel obligated. Shawn had never been surer of anything.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Shawn smiled a million-dollar smile, before grabbing your hand and leading you into the elevator. Shawn and Connor made eye contact; the normal,friendly banter between them was gone. May the best man win.

Tag List: @turtoix @physicshawn @im-a-stranger-thing @shawn-youth @dreamersseeincolor @spn-marvel-nerd @someinsanefangirl @tinycertain @unsolvedhearts @ykicantbefoundwithyou @marissje @mae-petite-etoile @michellemxndes

#shawn x reader x connor #shawn mendes #connor brashier #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes blurb #connor brashier au #connor brashier imagine #connor brashier x y/n #connor brashier fanfiction #connor brashier blurb

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whetstonefires · 4 years

Note

god i am OBSESSED with the idea of future sephiroth confronting gillian. does he already know she committed suicide when confronted by angeal and tries to plan around it or does he just. notice theres poison in her tea and. set it on fire or something. i have to admit i really enjoy sephiroths opinion on gillian in angels.

OH WOW this is a lot. Lol okay, I’m gonna put all these asks in one rather than stringing them out.

I’m not sure Sephiroth knows any details about what happened with Gillian, but he read the report where Zack presumably wrote down something about how Angeal seemed to have killed his own mom, and he got a sort of follow-up impression later from Angeal’s ghost on the general subject of suicide, so he knows what she did, very generally, and when, and what the fallout was.

I think this version of him is even more annoyed with her than he is in Angels in fact, because he knows for a fact her choice heavily influenced Angeal’s, so he’s going to tear into her about responsibility and abandonment and influence and stuff.

XD Probably going to get his own issues all over that one, too. Sephiroth...doesn’t compartmentalize well outside of his basic system of ‘all the feelings go in this box which I intend to leave closed and then someday die,’ which as we all know didn’t work out.

(I feel bad about Gillian in Angels, I totally had an opportunity to unfridge her and stuck her right back in the coldbox because I didn’t want to deal with her impact on the narrative beyond the established impact of fucking Angeal up worse, which I wanted to explore.)

ALSO elmyra is more put together right? like shes a functioning person? because i feel like her perspective on sephiroth and aerith stubbornly Not Acknowledging whatever the hell is going on would be really funny. at this rate im going to have to go hunt down playthroughs of ffvii and crisis core so i can write fanfic. i mean technically i could just write fanfic but it feels weird writing fic without having interacted with the source material at all

Elmyra is a functioning adult yes but she is also very long in the habit of not prying into Aerith’s Weird. I honestly cannot guess what she’d do in that situation, we don’t see enough of her! I’d have to make it up.

...I feel like it’s likely being forcibly recontextualized would be likely to break her and Aerith out of their pattern of pretending nothing’s going on, since presumably Elmyra wasn’t in the habit of telling people a fraction as much about Aerith’s backstory as she unloads onto the party after her kid gets kidnapped by Turks.

And lmao I mean yes you can write fic based entirely on fic, this is a fandom where it’s pretty common, even. Personally I couldn’t bear to, I just didn’t feel I had a sufficient grasp. And I was right! The fandom incarnations are lacking. Once I had played through the OG I had so much more to say, and vastly more nuanced grasp of character.

Personally also I cannot endure game playthroughs? I get awful brain static trying. The pacing. The experience of being confronted with a UI that says I’m in control, but not having it. I die. But for people who enjoy them they should work fine!

Also last I checked the original FFVII was available on Steam for like $20? You could probably play it.

ALSO ALSO because my brain is a disaster of random connections i keep picturing an au of angels wherein both angeal and sephiroth have traveled back in time but they dont realize immediately that the other one is also back in time. because! i dont have any context or anything but if they ended up having the whole what would you want me to do if you went insane and tried to destroy the world conversation it would be hilarious. sephiroth, having every single mental breakdown imaginable: uh

Hahaha AU crossing over one of my time travel AUs with the AU of my AU you previously proposed! Hmmmm yeah. I feel like they’d notice something was off before too long? But they might get to a version of the ‘what would you want me to do’ conversation lmao.

I think this Sephiroth would honestly give very intense and detailed instructions on how to shut him down and only then be like ‘why do you ask? what do you know.’

...if Angeal explained his timeline all the way up through Advent Children and DoC, this version of Sephiroth would not take it well. 😞

also now im back around to thinking about angels and zack was first class when genesis started degrading so that's probably a ways off right? unless they find a way to avoid it entirely but. at least he'll be a bit less desperate when he defects? if he defects i guess but he's too dramatic to not defect. whats he supposed to do let angeal be the dramatic one?? also ALSO if angeal and sephiroth both traveled back in time i think that would make genesis the most stable member of their group. wild.

He was Second Class, actually! He’d been recommended for promotion but it hadn’t gone through. They ultimately moved him up to First for killing Angeal, if you can believe it. Ghoulish, huh?

Well, technically they mostly promoted him for killing Genesis, who was much more of a threat. But Genesis faked his death and Angeal didn’t, and it wasn’t not for killing Angeal. It was all the same mission. I have no idea how Zack copes so well.

But yeah, the officially released timeline for CC claims Angeal &co are only about four years older than Zack, but the timeframes presented in the actual games suggest Sephiroth should have died around age 25, which is far enough from 21 to make a difference, and fits their character designs better. So I’m treating them as being about eight years older, with Genesis as the oldest, so Angeal has about three and a half years to work with before degradation originally kicked in.

But the trigger for that wasn’t necessarily a certain amount of time, so he can’t count on that schedule.

What Angeal does have is a Lifestream-side perspective on how Genesis got healed the first time around, so he knows to focus on the spiritual end of things over Science, which he knows failed to help, and this ups his odds of doing something useful in a useful amount of time considerably.

XD Too dramatic not to defect. Well.

also back to the time travel au what would tseng even do about sephiroth kidnapping aerith?? like he was the main one watching her right?? hes just hanging out and then sephiroth??? oh now hes got aerith??? what is he doing??? whats tseng even supposed to do in that situation

I don’t believe they have the manpower to keep up a constant guard? Tseng certainly does do other things, they just. Check in on her sometimes.

I don’t think it was ever truly clarified in canon whether Tseng was covering for Aerith somehow all those years, finding some weird wiggle room in the phrasing of his orders so he could put off admitting he’d found her or taking her in indefinitely so long as he didn’t lose track of her and let her get away, or if Hojo knew where she was and was just like ‘whatever, I don’t need her back right now, just keep an eye on my specimen and make sure she doesn’t die or escape.’

So it’s hard to know what he would do when we don’t 100% know what his reasoning was for the things he already did, or what kind of oversight he’s dealing with! Tseng is a difficult character for that reason.

Also while I do like getting asks, you should feel free to mix the contact approach up a bit when you have this much to say! This was a lot of content for this format. 😂 Tumblr chat IMs still mostly work, and there’s a link to my Discord server from my author page on AO3, where we’d love to have you. (It was proposed for people to talk about my fic, but much more often we wind up talking ffvii meta lmao. This is like...the midpoint of those two subjects so.)

#ffvii #angst train #hypothetical ficcing again #suicide mention #sephiroth #angeal hewley #aerith gainsborough #elmyra gainsborough #time travel #hoc est meum #all that jazz #aaaapplepi #ask

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derireo · 4 years

Text

Wilting Lotus / CH. 5.1

The Two Fools

Omi and Izumi explore her abandoned apartment.

He decides to destroy a couple of things during the visit. Just for kicks.

「 Read on AO3 here 」「 4.0k words 」

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

"So they decided to shut it down because..?"

Izumi was staring up at the place that she used to call her apartment, but it was obvious that no one lived here anymore. The front lawn where a large sign used to sit was now overrun with weeds while the walls of the building looked like they were being swallowed up by invasive creeper plants. Omi's arm was still comfortably wrapped around her shoulders as they stayed put on the sidewalk, her head resting against his shoulder as she analysed the graffiti that ran along the walls.

The sound of Omi's tongue clicking was the only response Izumi was going to get given how silent the man was the rest of their way here. The lack of cooperation made her sigh in resignation and she decided not to ask anymore questions unless they were actually important. For the time being at least.

She just had to guess that Sakyo and Itaru didn't want this building anymore because she didn't live there anymore. Her conjecture probably wasn't that far off anyways.

Flinging Omi's arm from her shoulders, Izumi readjusted her outfit as she made her way inside the abandoned building, the toes of her boots kicking away the stray pebbles that rest on the ground.

The man who accompanied her pursed his lips at the sudden loss of warmth, but silently crinkled his nose as he reminded himself that she had just very rudely pushed him away. Slinging her bag over his shoulder, Omi's tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he followed right behind the wandering woman, his temper still pleasantly mellow.

"Ugh, stairs." Izumi moaned sadly when pressing the button to the elevator didn't work, hitting her head against the metal doors.

It wasn't too far, but she lived on the third floor.

Omi, irked by how fast she had given up already, offered his services.

"I can give you a ride," he started, "but it's gonna cost ya."

And as much as the offer was tempting, Izumi grimaced at the word 'cost' and shook her head with a barely friendly chuckle, her eyes totally not glaring up at Omi as they smiled at him. His own gaze was indifferent at the expression on her face, but the corner of his mouth curved upwards when he saw how annoyed she seemed to be.

"No thanks, Sweetheart. I"ll manage." Mocking him with the nickname Sakyo usually called her, Izumi briefly poked her tongue out at Omi. Her little feet immediately carried her in the direction of the stairs before the tall man could react and grab her or something, and she tried to keep her giggles quiet when the sound of his footsteps followed after her own.

Their shadows danced along the length of the walls as the old wood beneath their feet creaked under the weight of their bodies. The sound of wandering mice and other critters tapping along the floors and ceiling covered up the tired breaths of Izumi as Omi casually trailed behind her, eyes fixated on the strain of her calves.

But as strong as she was, her endurance fucking sucked.

"I'll carry you. Free o' charge."

"Oh thank fuck." Izumi sobbed at the new offer, her body twisting around once they finished the first flight of stairs. At this point, her knees felt weak and she was about to die from exhaustion so Omi saying he'd carry her was like a dream come true; she honestly didn't think her short legs were gonna make it.

With arms held wide open, Izumi waited to be lifted onto his shoulder again, only to be startled by the feeling of already familiar hands gripping onto her waist and hoisting her up into the air.

Her reflexes were barely fast enough when latching onto the man, her legs tightly curled around his waist while her arms looped around his neck as Omi made no other effort to hold onto her himself, his hands reaching out to grab the handrails so that they wouldn't fall down the stairs.

"I can definitely tell that you wouldn't care if I died." Izumi sighed, wistful almost. As much as she found herself physically attracted to this man she was touching, his personality was nearing the line of a total deal breaker.

Omi found it easy to agree with her statement as he focused on getting the both of them to the floor that Izumi used to live on, the pace of his breathing barely changing.

The silence he left Izumi in annoyed her to no end; having been so used to Itaru's ramblings and Sakyo's never ending sighing or growling. She also didn't want to admit that she enjoyed being spoiled with attention, but with Omi's indifference, and maybe even dislike, towards her, she was definitely weighing the pros and cons on throwing a little tantrum.

But no. She shook her head, much to Omi's agitation. She had to keep her cool. Losing her temper with Omi like this was obviously going to put her in a tight situation, and she wasn't willing to die by this fucker's hands.

"Frowning isn't a cute look on you." She said offhandedly, already getting bored having to stay quiet with her emotions while her chin hooked over his shoulder, the side of her head leaning against his just to make him a little more annoyed.

At this point, Omi wasn't planning on opening his mouth to shoot her with a retort. Izumi would probably hit him back with something even meaner to say, and then they would have to do a back and forth to see whose feelings would get hurt first.

And nobody really had time for that; plus, Omi just wanted this girl off.

"Here. Get down." The man heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the large number '3' on the wall at the top of the stairs and went to pry off the clingy monster from his body.

Izumi tutted when her feet met the floor, but didn't say anything else to Omi who was trying to brush off any dust or dirt she brought upon him (rude!) and opened the broken fire exit door that would lead them to the hallway where her home was. The circuit breaker was undoubtedly shut off from all those years ago so the only source of light was the sun rays coming in from the end of the hallway.

The silence that resided in the place that Izumi once called her home made it slightly eerie, but she willed herself not to be perturbed and started to venture down to find the door to her apartment room.

"Ugh.. It's so cold. I kinda wish they left the electricity on." Rubbing her hands against her arms, Izumi stopped in front of a door that had one of the numbers hanging off. Her lips pouted when she saw the broken door frame and the cracked door itself; probably in this condition due to her never giving Sakyo and Itaru the key before she left.

She nudged the door open with her foot and held onto her arms as she walked in to the near empty home, just a few things like her ratty old couch and a few wooden chairs left askew in the living room. And she didn't notice then, but it seemed like the table in Itaru's 'office' was actually her coffee table.

Reduce, reuse, recycle, huh?

"Should blame yourself for wearin' that outfit you got goin' on." Omi said as he ventured to her kitchen where a leaky faucet remained along with a few broken dishes left abandoned in the sink. If anything, Omi would have offered his jacket to her if she asked, but she didn't. So. That's kind of on her.

"I'll kill you." Her voice travelled from an area of the place that was probably her bedroom, and the empty threat left Omi chuckling to himself as he brushed his hand along a cracked cupboard, fingers catching onto the handle that would let him open the tiny cabinet. The man grimaced when the collected dust flew in front of his face and he waved it away with his free hand as he examined whatever was inside.

The cupboard mostly housed a unique array of shot glasses, showing how much of an alcoholic the girl was in the past, along with a small arrangement of porcelain plates and one single kiddie bowl.

A small wave of repulsion went through Omi when he took a closer look at a mug that caught his attention though, a curious hand reaching out to properly examine what was on the ceramic.

It was a personalised mug that seemed to have a not so hot picture of Izumi with her former boyfriend on it, their arms wrapped around each other.

With one of the worst choices of font, Papyrus, was a sentence that ran around the image.

I hope only love and happiness meet us hand-in-hand in the future.. Guo Dian.

Happy Graduation, Izumi.

This? In Papyrus? Out of all fonts? Omi didn't major in anything let alone graphic design, but just looking at this abomination told him that this bullshit was hideous as fuck. He was going to have to do something about this.

"Yo, Izumi-san." He called out.

"En..?" Poking her head from a doorway, the girl's eyes squinted at Omi who had the mug casually hanging from a long finger, eyebrows scrunched him as she tried to see what it was he was trying to tell her through his vague gestures. She only realised what he was holding in his hand when she remembered that there was only one or two mugs she owned as a new adult, and the only one that had a picture on it was the present that Guo Dian gave her on her convocation day.

"You ever tell 'im this the ugliest shit ya ever seen?"

"Uh.. I thought it was kinda cute at the time.." She trailed off, slightly embarrassed. Sure, it wasn't the prettiest thing to look at, but it's the thought that counts, right? Izumi treasured it for many years after receiving it, but she totally forgot about it once she left to go overseas. She didn't use it much anyways, considering how worn down and scratched all of her shot glasses were while the mug looked like it had been barely touched.

"Right, well," with an easy but powerful flick of his wrist, Omi lobbed the ceramic mug across the short length of the living room, leaving it to fly far enough to hit and smash the rest of an already broken window that lead to the outside of the building, "you thought wrong."

Wincing at the sound of the crash of the window and then the smash of the mug landing on concrete, Izumi quickly frowned at Omi before disappearing to her bedroom again to go back to doing what she was doing before he interrupted her. Whatever. She didn't like that mug anyways.

The lack of reaction was kind of disappointing to Omi, but he decided not to push her any further just in case the kitty actually had claws, using the leaking faucet to wash away any of the dust that managed to stick to his fingers as his nose wrinkled at the memory of initially witnessing the tragedy that was Izumi's only graduation present.

If it were him, he would have dumped his partner right then and there.

"Ugh.. Omi-san?" It was Izumi's turn to call out for him, not that it mattered to the man but he perked up at the helpless tone in her voice, already making the short trek to her bedroom before she could tell him what she needed help with.

She was surprised to see Omi standing in the doorway when she was going to walk out and drag him from the kitchen, but smiled gratefully when he was in her sights, hands shoved into his pockets.

"You good?" Eyeing the piece of plywood that Izumi was holding onto, Omi pursed his lips and took a single step forward to see how she was managing. The plywood looked a bit new, and considering that Sakyo and Itaru had been here once before told him that they were the ones who installed it.

They said they were having trouble opening something a while back, so it must have been something valuable hence the plywood screwed shut over the huge ass hole they made in the wall.

"Obviously not." Izumi grunted, fingers sore from pulling at the barrier for so long. "There was literally no reason for this."

Awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet, Omi continued to watch the girl struggle. Was she going to ask him to lend a hand or..?

"Please help me." She whined, removing her hands from the small crevice that helped her pull at the industrial wood. She brought her fingers up to her mouth and cutely placed soothing kisses to the parts that would undoubtedly bruise later, causing Omi's mouth to twist in disgust at the adorable display.

"Hm. Thought you were never gonna ask, Sweetheart." He smiled sarcastically to which Izumi reacted the same, both of them glaring at each other as Omi shrugged off his black denim jacket and tossed it to Izumi who hardly reacted fast enough to catch it. No one else would have put it past Omi to ignore the girl until she asked for assistance since he liked watching others struggle, but there was something about Izumi that made it all the more fun.

He had just met her today, and not that he'd admit it, but he was kind of enjoying himself right now.

"Hold it or wear it, don't care. An' quit lookin' at me like that." Omi sighed as Izumi crinkled her nose, the weight of his jacket making it difficult for her to hold in both hands. A slight grumble came from the girl once the man had turned away from her to pull a tactical switchblade from his back pocket, the matte carbon fibre attracting her attention.

Her eyebrows lifted, impressed by the slick blade, and took a step back to let Omi do whatever he was planning to do, arms casually slipping through the sleeves of his large jacket to keep herself warm. "You gonna somehow cut through the plywood with that?" She inquired while sitting down on her old bed, the sound of the creaking springs causing her to grimace and readjust her position on the hard mattress.

The half-hearted joke made Omi want to hit his head against the wall, but he didn't, instead bending to his knees to get a better look at the screws that were still managing to hold on. "I ain't that strong." He rolled his eyes to himself, hooking the blade into the divot of the first screw to get it loose and then worked on the next one in the other corner to get the top half disconnected from the wall. He worked quickly so that he wouldn't waste any more of their time, and without touching the other screws at the bottom dug his hand between the plywood and the wall to manually force it off.

The sound of wood splitting caused Izumi to stop zoning out, her body jolting at the sudden break.

"Yeah.." She grimaced again, seeing how the poor wood lay at his feet. "Not that strong.. I agree.."

Izumi sighed once she saw the huge hole that hid away the safe she only opened once, the dents in the metal clear as day to both her and Omi. Sakyo and Itaru could have done a better job at trying to open the safe, right? It was just a simple 4-digit code, but it looked like they couldn't even figure it out. There were a few scratches on some of the numbers that told Izumi that they focused on those, but they missed the mark.

They didn't get a single number right.

"The code was 3825.." Izumi mourned as she quickly went to kneel in front of the safe to drag her fingers along the dimples in the metal, not yet touching the keypad. Omi's eyebrows creased as he watched how her small hands poked out from the long sleeves of his jacket and crossed his arms over his chest, not really knowing why she would assume anyone would figure that out by themselves with no sort of clue from the owner.

"3825 for 'fuck' when you look at the letters.." She explained not a second later, and it was at this point that Omi would have honestly preferred if she didn't say anything at all.

The urge to rip his jacket off her body out of anger was strong, but she unlocked the safe before he could make a move. Omi was left having to pretend he was only outstretching his hand to anxiously bite at his nails while Izumi gathered whatever was in the safe, the sigh that left her connecting to how Omi was feeling at this very moment.

"Didn't like 7448?" He muttered to himself when Izumi shuffled away from the safe to close it, the woman standing to her proper height as she turned her head to look at him with an innocent expression, eyes oddly sad for some reason.

"'Shit' wasn't as funny as 'fuck' at the time." She murmured gloomily, thumb brushing over the items that lay in her hand while Omi took a step to take a better look. His face contorted once more into an expression of disgust when he saw another photo of Izumi and Guo Dian together, along with a pair of amber kanzashi hair combs and a simple, black titanium ring.

"Top tier humour." He said, snatching away the photo that rest in her palm. The protest against him went ignored as Omi rummaged around in his pocket for something, his tongue poking out just the slightest bit as he dug deep to conjure a single match kept safe in a small plastic baggie from his trousers. "We're burnin' this shit."

"No! I look cute in that photo!" Izumi shot a hand out to try and reach for the picture that Omi took from her, but the man only held it above his head with a petulant frown, nose scrunched that she would even bother to try and save this forsaken piece of chemically sensitised paper.

The agitation was clear on Omi's face when Izumi's hand made contact with his chest as she tried to get closer to the photo, straining herself on her toes to at least brush her fingers along the edge of the item while her body leaned into him. Her struggle was genuine as she wheezed out a childish whine, but was quickly silenced when Omi's hand came down to roughly pat her cheek, an arm tucking around her waist to bring her back to the flat of her feet.

"I'll cut his half off then we burn it." He offered then pushed away the girl from him to keep their distance, brushing off the imaginary dust that she brought upon him. "Want you to explain why those are important though." He pointed at the traditional hair ornament and the ring being held tight in Izumi's hand. The amber resin glowed bright despite the dim lighting in the bedroom, and the ring glimmered just the slightest when the light from the window hit it as Izumi examined the accessories herself, lips pouted.

"I just told Itaru and Sakyo that these meant a lot to me," she sighed, not noticing Omi brandishing his switchblade again, "they're making it seem like they hold a different meaning though. I don't quite get it."

The smooth sound of his blade slicing through the photo made Izumi fall back into reality and she pressed her lips in a thin line when she noticed how he narrowly missed cutting her whole arm from the rest of the picture. She didn't say anything, but Omi knew how unimpressed she was with him when she put her hands on her hips; looking awfully cute (not his words) with how his denim jacket dwarfed her.

"Any special markings on 'em?" He murmured as he plucked the match he had from its baggie, taking a single step closer to the girl to reach out with the tiny thing. Before Izumi could react, Omi's wrist flicked in her direction to strike the match against his jacket that she still wore, a brief spark flying before the head lit up into a flame.

The action made her flinch in surprise, momentarily forgetting what his question was as her eyes darted back and forth between her sleeve and the match with widened eyes.

"H-How.."

"Cap gun powder, water, nail varnish." He didn't let her finish as he brought the match to Guo Dian's half of the photo, casually letting it burn in one hand as he motioned for Izumi with the other, telling her to hurry up and answer his question. The old scars on her body ached when her gaze didn't move from the flickering match and the melting picture, but willed herself to break away from the bright flame to avert her attention to the simple ring that Guo Dian had given to her as another present.

"Er.. Ah! There's a lotus emblem inside the ring.." She gasped in surprise, noticing the thin engraving that was touched up with gold. She then flipped the kanzashi combs in hands to see another set of lotus emblems in the top left corners, the black paint protected by a smooth coating of some type of varnish.

A deep intake of breath was heard coming from Omi as he finally dropped the ruined photo of Guo Dian along with the match, casually stepping on the flame with his white shoe to extinguish it before it could catch fire onto any of the rubble that was around. Stepping away, his foot revealed the burnt to a crisp sensitised paper and the dead match in the spot where the ex boyfriend's head used to be.

"'Kay. Good to know. We're done 'ere." The man mumbled as he tucked Izumi's half of the photo in his jacket pocket for the girl to hold onto, wrapping his large hand around the crook of Izumi's elbow to begin pulling her out the bedroom without giving her any time to look at anything else. "Let's go."

"Hey!" Izumi complained, unable to use any strength against Omi to make release her. She tried digging her heels into the floor to make the man let up, but Omi wasn't having it and pulled on her arm to make her stumble forward until she crashed into his side. Izumi groaned in agitation as her nose dug itself into his rib cage, but Omi was left unaffected, his arm moving to go back around her shoulders to escort her out of the abandoned apartment room.

"Can we at least go eat some food before we go back?" She put away the kanzashi in the same pocket Omi put her photo in and wore the black ring on her middle finger, squinting up at the man who was leading her down the hallway and towards the stairwell. "I didn't get to before I visited the office."

He shot a quick glance her way only for him to revert his gaze to the flight of stairs they were going to have to go back down, and made a move to grab Izumi firmly by the waist, hoisting her up into the air for a bridal carry, only to hear her complain again.

He was not going to let her slow them down by going into a corner to heave and catch her breath again. She went limp in Omi's arms just to spite him and make things harder, but his simple answer of 'no' made her shoot up to punch him in the shoulder.

"You're the worst."

#noice #proofreading took me an hour and some to finish #i hate proofreading #hope y'alls like it! part two of chapter 5 will hopefully be out in a few days or more #hopefully there aren't any mistakes left but i wouldn't put it past myself to miss them #wilting lotus #omi fushimi #izumi tachibana #fushimi omi #tachibana izumi #a3!#a3! imagines #a3! act! addict! actors!#A3! Actor Training Game #a3! scenarios #a3! headcanons #sakyo furuichi #itaru chigasaki #ser: mafia au

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ragnarachael · 4 years

Text

No Plan

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 2,129

Summary: You treated yourself to a week long getaway to a lodge up in the mountains and run into one of the handsome caretakers that work around on the property.

Author’s Ramblings: it’s so weird crossposting my hiddleston content here, but why not give it a shot? this is a thing i started when i took my trip to Georgia after my birthday! originally, i was gonna make this a lot shorter, but i wouldn’t shut the hell up SO HERE WE ARE. also, i tried to find a gif that looked how i described tom’s look in this, but i got tired of searching and settled on this so it’s fine we’re fine this is fine

MASTERLIST ! FEEDBACK ! AO3 LINK !

The mountains were breathtaking. The views were almost as if you’d been sleeping and had a realistic dream that would shake you to your very core once you were back to reality.

But no. You were here. This was real. You were losing your mind at just how beautiful a place could be.

You had decided on staying up in some cabins in the mountains for a week as a gift to yourself for working hard. And god, they did not disappoint.

The line of trees you could see as you drive yourself around some of the trails on the small golf cart you had rented rendered you speechless. You even spotted a small stable with the place that had a sign advertising that you could rent a horse for an hour.

You never wanted to leave. Ever.

When you were younger, you always hated the outdoors. It was weird, now that you’re looking back on it as you took your time getting out of your golf cart to take the short walk up the path that led to your cabin. The dirt, the more often than not sticky heat as you tried to do some cliché activity. It just rubbed you the wrong way.

Then, you realized, maybe it was just the people.

You hummed to yourself as you tossed the keys between your hands, momentarily eyeing the extra cart near the trail you were walking on that branched off onto another small clearing. It was a worker at the lodge, you assumed by his current situation.

He was building. What exactly, you don’t know. You didn’t mind watching him as he tried pushing some pieces together. His bicep flexed slightly from the tension, which make his forearm tense up considerably.

So maybe there was more to the mountains than the views of the trees and other things the Earth had created.

You didn’t catch the man again until the next day you went to the stables and he was tending horses.

You were just passing by the stables, really. Just to get to the small restaurant up at the office area of the lodge, since you weren’t feeling up to cooking breakfast that morning.

But there he was. Standing tall, oozing confidence with his auburn curls looking slightly on the red side thanks to the morning sunlight. He was wearing casual clothing. Tight jeans, tucked into some kind of boot that was most likely steel toed, dark blue long sleeved shirt that was rolled up to his elbows. Maybe it was a Henley? You couldn’t be too sure, you didn’t want to be caught staring.

“Good mornin’.” The deep voice shocked you. You didn’t suspect it to be that deep. It also sounded... British, possibly? You didn’t notice since you were still reeling on how deep and gravely his voice sounded.

It was kicking your stomach up with emotions.

“Morning,” you replied easily with a kind smile and a short nod of the head. Was it possible to have some kind of country twang mixed with a British accent?

He returned the smile before you carried on heading up the dirt path that led to your destination and he carried on cooing to one of the horses he was tending to.

After conversing with Suzanne, the lovely waitress you had at breakfast, you learned his name was Tom. Extremely fitting. He moved from England as it turned out, offering his uncle some help around the place with renovations and such.

According to Suzanne, Tom was a good, hardworking man who didn’t know when to take a break. Always tending to everything, stubborn as a mule. Needed to settle down with a good, kind-hearted soul who knew how to properly feed the poor thing - Suzanne was very hung up on how thin Tom looked, you learned, even if he had the muscle to prove otherwise. You chalked it up to be from her southern roots.

“You would love ‘im!” Suzanne exclaimed as she filled your cup in the empty dining area. “Handsome, educated. My girls upstate wouldn’t believe there’s any like him left!”

“Really?” you mused gently, looking out the window that gave a slanted view of the stables where Tom worked.

Suzanne was quick to voice her agreement before changing the subject completely on you to talk about one of her grandbabies.

After breakfast it was your mission to talk with the man.

You watched him take care of the horses, flex in his top far too much to be considered healthy, run his large hands through the short locks of hair on his head, and even mount a horse to ride.

It was dangerous to even consider getting to know him or even be in the same room as him, you’re aware, but you had to know more than what Suzanne was telling you through her connections.

And you didn’t need her meddling with your chance at a relationship. It felt like the equivalent of your mother forcing you and a cute boy together in a room with a wink and an exclamation of “oh! I forgot I had to do something in the kitchen! You two have fun!”.

“That’s oddly specific,” you muttered to yourself as you left the restaurant after paying and generously tipping Suzanne, holding a hand up to shield the sunlight from your eyes as you started back down the small steps you had to climb.

Tom was out of sight with one of the spotted horses, and you had decided to try and figure out some topics you could talk with him about. The next time you ran into him, you didn’t want to be too.. awkward. If you ended up saying something weird you’d have to endure the uncomfortable, tight-lipped smiles whenever you walked past him until you left at the end of the week.

You didn’t want that. At all.

Thankfully, your shot came later in the afternoon, right around dusk. On an impulsive decision, you decided to head to the small gazebo where the weddings were held. They had cute lights set up last you looked and it really was a nice spot to relax and look at the stars.

The walk was nice and cool. Not too hot after a certain point, which pleased you to no end. You didn’t regret wearing the shorts you had on, and you didn’t hate yourself for pulling on the long sleeve you really wanted to wear. The perfect balance of hot and cold.

Tom looked to be painting the railings when you got there with your small backpack on your back. You wanted to stop him as he continued long, detailed brush strokes on the nice pale wood.

“I think the gazebo looks just fine without whatever you’re doing,” you started casually as you landed on the first step. Hopefully that was a good starting point, you thought.

Tom stopped mid-dunk of his brush to look your way with a face of confusion before smiling at you.

“I’m afraid I agree,” he replied casually, officially deciding to abandon his work in favor of standing up and stepping back into the middle of the wood floor to cross his arms against his chest. “However, our next wedding party insists we stain it.”

You made a strangled noise in the back of your throat at his reply, finally stepping onto the main platform of the gazebo. You shoved your hands into your pockets gently.

“Is that even allowed?”

“Technically? No. But they threw in extra money, and Lance couldn’t turn them down then.”

You hummed sadly, nodding as if you knew exactly what he was talking about. You let your eyes trail over the decent stain job so far when you felt his eyes on you.

“I’m Tom, by the way.” His cleaner looking hand was held out for you to shake.

Happily, you turned and took a hand out of your pocket to grasp it while giving your name back kindly.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Tom replied with a grin, taking his hand back before moving to quickly turn the small lights hooked under the roofing on.

You had no choice but to assume it was the caretaker in him.

“So,” he started. “What brings you this way?”

“Besides the gazebo?” You fired back teasingly. “I wanted to see the lights and maybe get some reading in.”

“This is a good spot to do it,” Tom confirmed as one of his large hands rubbed under his chin. “I recommend the small clearing near your cabin, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yes. When the skies are clear at night?” Tom let out a dreamy sounding sigh with a smile, holding a thumbs up with a nod. “It’s beautiful.”

“Surely not as beautiful as the other views I’ve seen here,” you replied, smiling kindly before moving to the railing Tom had been working on. You were sure to keep a bit of a distance.

“You said a wedding party wanted the railing stained?”

“Mhm.” You could hear Tom’s footsteps behind you as you heard some things shifting around. You could only assume he was trying to clear up the space near the railing.

“When are they arriving?”

Tom stopped moving things around and tilted his head as his hand moved to itch the back of his neck. He stayed silent to think for a moment.

“Uh,” he started, eyes trailing up to the roof which caused his lips to part as he let out a low groan of thought. “October.”

Your eyes widened slightly, causing you to turn around abruptly to look at him. “That’s close.”

“Exactly why the railing needs to be done.”

You let out a soft hum, finally moving closer to the railing as you started to look out at the landscape of trees. Absentmindedly, you leaned closer to the wood Tom had just stopped working on as if you’d get a closer look at the landscape.

Tom eyed you curiously as he bent down to finish moving some of his equipment. He noticed you looked like you were about to slam your hands against the fresh staining.

“I’d be careful if I were you. It’s still—“

The words flying out of his mouth were far too late by the time your hands landed on the freshly stained railing. You didn’t hesitate to let your face pull into a grimace, barely glancing down at your newly painted hands.

“—wet..”

You took a slow breath in through your nose before breathing out your reply: “shit.”

“Shit indeed,” Tom quipped with a chuckle, standing up from his position to stand next to you while you pulled your hands off.

“Is this like... toxic or whatever?”

“Not really. Unless the effects come later,” he replied, gesturing to his bare forearms that had streaks of dark brown on his pale skin that mixed in with the freckles that dotted up and down his arms.

You nodded and let out a huff regardless, staring at your semi-damp hand to compare it to his arm.

“I recommend olive oil,” Tom said as he moved to carefully grasp your wrist to see the damage.

His hands were rough thanks to the callouses he’s gained from working, but were gentle holding your wrist overall. It was, to be honest, a little distracting.

“For what?”

“The staining.” He held your hand up with a smile. “Food-grade oil in a small tray and soaking for a few minutes does wonders before you scrub it all off.”

You scrunched your nose up. “You do this a lot?”

“You’d be surprised,” Tom teased, the edge of his lips quirking into a bit of a smirk as he let out a breathy chuckle.

You couldn’t help but follow suit, letting out a soft laugh. “I’m sure I would.”

The silence between you two was comfortable. A little awkward, but comfortable overall. Your wrist was still in Tom’s grasp and you didn’t look forward to when he would let go.

“I.. Uh, I think I’ll leave you with your staining,” you spoke suddenly, not at all moving to let his hand fall from your wrist. “I can just go to the clearing—”

"Stay,” Tom said suddenly, cutting off your sudden babbling before you even got started. “Please. I’d love the company.”

You let your eyes trail up his arm to meet his eyes, furrowing your brows in confusion.

“Are you sure? I can easily make the walk back, it’s no trouble—”

Tom said your name gently, trying to hold back a laugh. “Yes. Stay. I would like to get to know you a bit more, if that’s alright.”

Your confusion went away quickly, your face contorting into a wide smile before your head nodded a little too fast to be appropriate.

“That’s certainly alright with me, Tom.”

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston au #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston drabble #tom hiddleston #rachael writes

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taexual · 5 years

Text

HOLIC - 43 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: fluff with a hint of angst

words: 3.8k

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It had gotten quite cold already, so you found yourself dressing in layers as you prepared for work the next day. You would later blame it all on your hangover, but you were already out of the door when you realized that the middle layer – the black hoodie you’d grabbed while still only half-wake – was none other than Jaebum’s hoodie that you’d worn once before already.

Thankfully, Eva was on sick leave so you weren’t likely to get scolded for violating the dress code again. Instead, you would, perhaps, manage to endure this day easier because, although washed and then worn by you, the hoodie still smelled undeniably of Jaebum’s cologne.

It was Tuesday today which meant that you were going to have to deal with high college students and rowdy middle-schoolers the whole day – just like any other day, really; except customers seemed especially vicious on Tuesdays – and, on top of all of that, Jiho was going to be at your gallery today, too. At this point, you weren’t really sure why he was still coming; surely, he’s already had every meeting possible in regards to his works getting exhibited here. You were almost convinced he was still here purely to make your life more miserable than it already was.

As always, you’d hoped to avoid him, and, as always, you failed when he waved you over almost as soon as you stepped inside of the gallery.

“There’s something I’d like you to do with me,” Jiho told you before you even took your coat off. He looked more excited than usual and you couldn’t help but find it suspicious. “It’s not really an event that’s specified in the contract but—well, I’m going up to the balcony to take some test pictures – those woods behind the building look fantastic – and I thought it’d be great if you came with me.”

“Is that going to count as progress towards getting my name more well-known?” you asked—and made him laugh—because you were absolutely not going to hang out with him just for the fun of it.

“Sure, yeah,” he nodded. “You don’t really photograph people, do you? You’re more of a nature photographer.”

“I guess so,” you shrugged. You have experimented with photographing people back in university and discovered that you preferred unmoving targets. Of course, that was before Jackson provided you with the opportunity to photograph his and Jaebum’s working session at the recording studio and you ended up falling in love with the end-result of that photoshoot. “But I’m open to anything in the future.”

“That is great!” Jiho said, moving to a side and pointing his hand towards the stairs. “This type of open-minded artists is precisely what our gallery needs. Let’s go.”

“Uh, I can’t leave the floor—”

“I already checked in with the other girls,” Jiho said, nodding his head towards one of your co-workers that was busy supervising an abandoned child – after the crayon fiasco, all of you were forced to double-task as nannies – and then smiled. “It’s completely fine for you to leave for a little bit.”

“Hmm,” you didn’t think it was fair to leave your workplace as soon as you arrived but, at the same time, you’d have gladly taken any excuse to do something other than deal with potential clients. You could feel guilty later. “Alright, fine. Can I ask you why you’re still here, though? I-I mean—”

Jiho laughed before you could explain. “I figured you’d ask that. I’m really only here to do a test run on something that might become a photoshoot location later. I’m still not convinced it’s the perfect spot, that’s why I drove over here today.”

“And, I assume you don’t need a model for that test run because I’m definitely not substituting for one,” you said, trying to stop your mind from conjuring up the memory of the first time you’d posed in front of his camera. “Oh, and I’m also assuming, you managed to get the key to the balcony because, in all of the time that I’ve worked here, I’ve never seen a single person go up there. Honestly, I thought that door was actually just a decoration.”

He was smiling as if he wanted to laugh again – clearly, your assumptions amused him to no end. At least one of you was having a good time here.

“I got the key from the administrator,” he explained. “He’s surprisingly kind if you bring him coffee with a bagel. No one likes to start working at seven.”

“Ah, so you bribed him.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he replied. “And as for the model, no. I don’t need one for a test run. I’m just checking the view, really – that’s why I thought I’d bring you with me. You’re already used to nature photography. Maybe both of us can learn something new today.”

The two of you had reached the top floor of the gallery and you stopped while you waited for him to unlock the sturdy door of the balcony. Clearly, no one had been there in a while because the lock refused to give.

“Do you always put so much work into your photoshoots?” you asked as you watched him wrestle with the door. “I figured, you would just find a model, find a spot, do it, and that’s it. I didn’t realize test runs were involved.”

“There’s no textbook photoshoot,” he replied, grunting as he finally managed to turn the key and get the door to open. “Ah, here we go. What was I—oh, right, well, everyone does photoshoots differently. Sometimes mine are spontaneous, too. But this one’s a big deal so I want it to be perfect and that’s why I can’t just show up to a random spot and start taking pictures. I need to make sure the view is going to be cooperating.”

As soon as you walked past the old doors and entered the balcony, overlooking the vast woods behind the gallery – the dark green pine trees looked beautiful when circled by yellow and crimson leaves of the oaks and maples around them; you’d forgotten how much you loved fall time – you knew that he wouldn’t be searching for long. It was very unrealistic that this spot wouldn’t pass Jiho’s overly complicated test. It was breathtakingly beautiful here.

“I’ve seen this balcony hundreds of times when I was driving to work,” you spoke, your voice quiet, “but I never imagined just how beautiful the woods would look from up here.”

Jiho was smiling as he nodded and put his camera case on the marble floor.

“I figured you’d like this,” he said. “And, actually, I have to thank you. I’d thought my models would have to dress up in something that matched the colors of the leaves – you know, to fit the whole mood of the fall – but I realize that’s ridiculous. The pictures will look amazing if they’re dressed in black. Like you are.”

You looked down at your outfit instinctively. “Oh. Well. Yeah. I guess that will focus the attention on the background more.”

“Exactly,” he said, pulling his camera out and approaching the railing where you stood. “Interesting perfume, by the way.”

You turned to him – surprised by the unexpected comment – and realized with a jolt of your stomach that he must have been referring to Jaebum’s cologne. You hadn’t realized the scent was so obvious – in fact, for the most part, you could barely smell it unless you sniffed the hoodie itself.

“Oh, it’s—”

“Ah, shit,” Jiho swore suddenly, frowning at his camera. “Can you hold on for a moment? I left my back-up battery in the staff room. The camera’s dead.”

“Sure—”

“I’ll be right back,” he said and then tossed you the keys of the balcony, “watch these.”

You caught them right before they hit the ground and barely managed to nod again before he was out of the door, leaving you on the balcony all by yourself.

Admittedly, it was rather chilly here but the view made the goosebumps creeping up your spine worth it. You hadn’t brought your camera with you today so you had to make do with your phone as you snapped a few shots, wanting to capture at least some part of the beauty in front of you.

Your hands moved almost automatically; as soon as you finished taking the pictures, you found yourself editing them on one of the many photo editing apps you had on your phone while you waited for Jiho to come back. He really took his time, and, once he finally returned – completely out of breath – you were already sniffling and could barely feel your hands.

“I’m so sorry,” Jiho wheezed out. “I didn’t mean to freeze you to death, I swear. It just turns out that the key to the staff room? Yeah, the administrator has that and he’s not as nice when you don’t have any more coffee. It took me forever to find—okay, whatever. Let’s do this before you freeze a limb off.”

“It’s fine,” you said, “my fingers are already numb. It can’t get much worse.”

He chuckled, still breathing heavily. “Sorry. The view’s great, though, I hope you don’t regret waiting up here.”

Surprisingly, you didn’t regret anything about today yet – not even the fact that Jiho was the one who had brought you up here – and you mustered up a smile as you shook your head, “no. The view is great. Thank you for asking me to come here with you.”

“Oh,” Jiho seemed to be just as surprised by the gentle tone of your voice as you were. He smiled back nevertheless. “Well, it’s no problem. Let’s do this fast, though. Hot chocolate is on me after this.”

You’d have rather gotten your frozen fingers amputated than admitted that this Tuesday might have been one of the most enjoyable Tuesdays of your whole life. The freezing air on the balcony made you and Jiho bond – even if you did cringe at the word – as you both jumped around, trying to keep warm while he took pictures from every possible angle. He even came this close to actually dangling himself off the edge of the railing once.

On top of all of that, even sharing plastic cups of vending-machine hot chocolate in the staff room later – although it tasted like nothing due to your stuffed nose – was unexpectedly fun. The two of you ended up splashing your drinks everywhere as your hands shook uncontrollably from the cold. However, despite almost reaching a conclusion that Jiho wasn’t really the evil incarnate, you still longed to return home and forget about having to work with him.

Jaebum – currently unemployed and only bound by the contract he’d signed with an entertainment agency last week – was cooking dinner when you got home – bless his heart. Your wish of forgetting all about Jiho came true almost immediately after you came in through the door and Jaebum gave you a wave from the kitchen – the knife in his hand not looking threatening at all.

“I have fantastic news!” he gasped the next second, the eagerness in his voice showing you that he’d been anticipating your return home. You simply couldn’t think back on your day with Jiho when you heard Jaebum’s excited tone. “My management team called today and they wanted to arrange a meeting about “Don’t Touch Me.” It-it’ll be re-released as an official single later.”

“Right, you’ve told me that,” you said slowly, urging him to go on as you undressed in the hallway, overjoyed to feel the warmth of your slippers as opposed to the cold hard soles of your sneakers.

“Yes, exactly, I already knew that,” Jaebum continued as you hung your coat on the hanger and heard something land on the floor with a harsh clink. “So I said no to the meeting.”

“Oh? But maybe they had something else to tell you,” you said, leaning down to pick up the ring of keys that had just fallen out of your coat pocket. You’d completely forgotten to give the keys of the balcony to the administrator when you left the gallery today.

“You’re absolutely right, they did. I’ll actually have to seem them again. But,” he said, pausing when you entered the kitchen and took your usual spot by the island, tossing the balcony keys next to his cutting board and hoping you wouldn’t forget to bring them back tomorrow, “only if I need to find someone to design the artwork for the cover of the single. Both the digital and the physical copy.”

You were busy half-listening to him and half-undressing-and-smelling-what-he-was-cooking, so you were confused. “What? So, you don’t need anyone to design you that?”

“No, I do,” he said, looking at you with a big grin. “I just don’t need to look for that person because, I’m hoping, she’s sitting right across from me.”

“She’s—wait, me?” you raised your eyebrows. “You want me to design the artwork for your single? Jaebum—”

“Of course, I do,” he confirmed. “You’re the only photographer I know—”

“Jackson.”

“—and—oh. Yeah, well, him, too, but anyway,” Jaebum waved his hand around dismissively – not the one he was holding the knife with, thankfully. “I want you to do it. And you might be the only one who’s able to do it, actually.”

He’d already hinted at getting your help when filming a music video for his single but you’d kind of assumed he was joking. Clearly, he wasn’t.

“Why?”

He gave you a look. “You know why. It’s either you or Mark and, no offense to him, but the pictures he takes look like they’ve been done with a flip-phone.”

You smiled at that but shook your head nevertheless. “I’m flattered you thought of me—”

“Good. I was hoping you’d be.”

“—but shouldn’t you get a… I don’t know, a professional to do this?” you asked. “As in, someone who’s done this before?”

“You’re a professional,” he simply said.

“I—but I’ve never done this before,” you insisted.

“And neither have I,” he shrugged. “I mean, we’re doing this together, right? You working on your exhibition and me working on this – and by “this,” I don’t mean this stew. Oh, by the way, is garlic okay with you? Because I already added it. Anyway—we’re in this together. I’ll be your model, you’ll be my photographer. I don’t really see how any of us might end up at a disadvantage.”

“Maybe not now,” you continued to disagree, too insecure to let him down. “But you’ll see it when you end up being disappointed by the end result. I mean, this is your debut single – it will represent you for the rest of your life. The cover for it should be—”

“You really don’t have high hopes for me improving as a musician, do you?” he asked, turning towards the oven.

“I-I—no. I didn’t mean it like that,” you back-tracked, clearing your throat. “I just don’t want you to do this because you feel like you have to.”

Jaebum stopped stirring the pot and turned back around to face you. “Hey, uh, are you free tomorrow?”

You frowned at the sudden change of topic. “W-What? Why?”

“I’ll be making an appointment with an ear doctor for you,” he said, “because, clearly, you’ve got selective hearing and that’s got to be a problem,” he chuckled when you blinked your eyes, still confused. “I’ve told you several times that I want you to do this. I’m not asking you because I feel like I have to. I happen to believe your talent and I’d very much like it if you used it to help a brother out.”

This got you to laugh and Jaebum, beyond proud of himself now, turned back towards the pot.

“So, what do you say?” he asked after a moment, his hopeful gaze leaving the boiling water and landing on your face. “We’ll discuss the pay later.”

This surprised you. “Oh, I’ll get paid?”

“Ah, I knew I should have started with the money first.”

“No, I’m obviously kidding,” you shook your head, laughing again. “You’re giving me an opportunity to advance my career in a surprising new direction. It should be me paying you.”

“That is good though, right? It should help you with the whole getting-your-name-out-there thing, too, yeah?”

You swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in your throat. “Uh, yeah.”

“So, we’re doing this?”

Exhaling deeply, you looked around the room one more time – for no reason other than to win yourself some time to calm down from the sudden mention of your work with Jiho – and then nodded finally.

“Okay,” you decided. “Fine. But tell me if you hate the pictures, okay? Don’t go soft on me just because we’re—well, you know.”

“Deal,” Jaebum replied, smiling. “I’ll shred you to pieces if I hate the pictures.”

“Alright. No pressure on me at all.”

He laughed. “You’ll do great. There’s no way I’d ever hate your work. Just let me know when you’re free, yeah? We’ll find some place to take the pictures, it doesn’t have to be anything fancy.”

As though you were in a movie, the ring of the keys to the gallery’s balcony – that you’d thrown on the island when you got back – suddenly caught the rays of the setting sun. The blinding sparkle caught your eye, forcing you to squint and feel a metaphorical lightbulb pop up above your head.

“Hey,” you started slowly. “What if I told you I already have an idea where we could take the pictures?”

You took Jaebum to your gallery as soon as the two of you were done with dinner. Just as you’d expected, he loved the view from the balcony as much as you did when you first saw it this morning. However, the woods looked even better at night when the edges of the trees were illuminated by the streetlights and the stars in the clear sky above.

“Wow,” Jaebum exhaled – his breath manifesting into a cloud of smoke due to the cold air outside – clearly impressed. “Have you taken pictures here before?”

“Ah, no,” you looked down. You’d hoped you wouldn’t have to talk about how you discovered this spot. “I’ve actually never been up here before until recently. You’re the first model I’ve brought here.”

He turned to you with an amused expression. “I’m honored. History is being made here tonight.”

“Yeah, about that,” you started as you turned your camera on with nervous fingers, “you remember that I don’t usually take pictures of people, right?”

“Not a problem. I’ve been told I can do a mad impression of a tree.”

You laughed, checking the settings. “I’m just saying, don’t raise your expectations.”

“I don’t really understand your apprehension,” he admitted then. You raised your eyes to meet his. “I mean, the photos you took at Jackson’s studio were brilliant. You said so yourself.”

You looked down again, your face suddenly so warm, you were surprised steam wasn’t rising from it. You hadn’t meant to compliment yourself as a photographer when you’d called those pictures “brilliant.”

“It’s because of you,” you said. “Not because of me.”

“Alright, whatever,” Jaebum rolled his eyes – even if you could barely see it in the darkness of the night – and then rubbed his hands against his thighs, clearly cold. “I’ll turn my magic on again, so let’s do this. Or, if we wait any longer, you won’t be taking pictures of people after all, because I’ll turn into your friendly neighborhood snowman.”

He kept joking around the entire night, making you laugh each time, and you’d have been lying if you said you didn’t love every moment of tonight to death. Seeing his face light up when he successfully made you laugh was almost better than whatever he’d just said.

By the end of the night, you’d dedicated yourself to laughing at anything and everything that came out of his mouth just so he would keep looking like a child on Christmas day. And, when you looked at him through the screen of your camera, that was precisely what Jaebum looked like. He didn’t have a smile on his face – he didn’t think he should have been smiling on the cover of the single – but, even despite putting his best model face on, his eyes still glittered as if the biggest bag of candy awaited him behind the lens of the camera.

As expected from a spot like this, you could feel the magic Jaebum had mentioned with every press of the shutter. The stars in the sky above you two wanted to steal the show but even they faded into a blurry background when you focused the camera on Jaebum’s profile as he gazed out at the woods.

For the briefest of moments, you had regretted not trying to take pictures of him right there in your kitchen when he was cooking. For one, it would have been warmer to have your photoshoot there. But, most importantly, he’d have still looked other-wordly while dancing around the three different pots on your stove.

But then the moment passed when you saw the way the dim lighting, coming through the door of the balcony, played with his features, accentuating his bone structure and highlighting the dreamy look in his eyes. And then, as you took picture after picture – not even double-checking if you had set your settings right – you realized that it wasn’t the light playing with him at all. It was the other way around.

Just like the first time you’d photographed him, Jaebum was – without realizing it himself – controlling all of his surroundings until they responded to his every move. He’d lift his head and, all of a sudden, you’d see three falling stars in the sky. He would look down and the wind in the trees would suddenly cease blowing, the harmonious, comforting silence working as the background of the picture. He would turn to look at you and all breath would escape you, making your head spin.

You watched him try to get comfortable in front of the camera and zoomed in on his face with shaky hands. You pressed the button dozens of times in a row, aware that you were getting blurry shots but not caring because you knew he looked flawless anyway.

You felt his eyes search for yours through the lens, your camera not enough to shield you from the warmth of his gaze.

You watched him watch you, the cold air around you doing nothing to the fires in your chest.

Your camera did its work perfectly even despite the cold air around you, but, all throughout the night, you couldn’t focus on the device in your hands at all. You were busy taking pictures of Jaebum with your mind, your heart, and the deepest parts of your soul instead.

chapter directory

#got7 #got7 reactions #got7 imagines #got7 fanfiction #fanfiction #got7 scenarios #jaebum #got7 jaebum #kpop #fanfic #got7 fanfic #got7 au #got7 x reader #roommate au #enemies to lovers au #e2l au #got7 roommate au #got7 enemies to lovers au #got7 e2l au

264 notes · View notes

tuanhood · 4 years

Text

designated driver

pairing: im jaebeom x reader

genre: fluff, angst(?)

word count: 2.9k

summary: you and jaebeom are always the designated drivers.

a/n: this is kinda bad and unedited so as always don’t roast me. alsO if you’re just coming across this and my blog here’s a self plug for my mark social media au ------> blurred

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“Pretty boring party huh?” You heard someone say to the left of you.

If you had to be honest, you didn’t want to engage. You were completely fine leaning up against the back wall of the room, sipping on what had to be your fourth La Croix since arriving with your friends. That’s what you tended to do when you weren’t sure what to do. Just mindlessly drink a La Croix or four.

You had volunteered to be the designated driver once again. Somehow it seemed like you always ended up taking the role whenever you went out with your friends and you weren’t exactly sure how. Was it the sad look your best friend gave you all when everyone declared it was her turn? Or was it the awkward silence that followed the age-old question, “So who’s DD?”

This time had been no different, except the stakes had been a little higher.

Mark Tuan’s end of the semester party.

Of course, Mark was notorious for all of his parties – his Halloween parties, his Winter Wonderland Blowouts, Toga Parties and Tailgates – but it was his end of the semester party that was always the biggest and always the messiest. If you had to gather statistics from all of the end of semester parties Mark had had since you’ve been at University, you would have guessed that at least 30% of partygoers experienced some level of alcohol poisoning. And you weren’t exactly sure how Mark got all of the funds to cover all of his gatherings – it wasn’t like he was in a frat or charged cover – he somehow just had the means to supply three fourths of the campus with an ample amount of alcohol.

When the discussion over who would be driving occurred for Mark’s party, you had told yourself that this time you would not be the babysitter for the night, and you would be letting loose after the tough semester you had endured.

“So, who’s driving tonight?” One of your friends had asked slowly, drawing out her words in a way that was meant to tell all of you that it wasn’t going to be her.

“I mean… I honestly don’t want to,” another friend had piped up.

Your best friend sighed, knowing that left her since you had driven the last two times, but she pressed for an alternative, “what if we take Uber this time?”

“Do you know how expensive the surge will be? And who even knows if we’ll be able to get one since there’s less drivers here nowadays.”

You had tapped your foot nervously. It couldn’t be you again, it couldn’t.

“And if that happens, I’m not staying over! That house is disgusting after everyone leaves and I’m not staying with that jerk!”

You blinked slowly and replied, “Mark is your boyfriend.”

“I know but he’s really pissing me off right now and I refuse to stay there while he has that other heathen staying with him.”

“Girl, Bambam didn’t meant to push you in the pool last time. He didn’t know about your fear of water,” your best friend responded blankly.

More bickering had continued, and that’s when you realized that once again it was up to you to be the responsible one out of your friends. To give up the binge drinking you had planned for and the large carb filled meals you had prepped to have before.

When you offered it had felt like they had been waiting for you to say those magic words the whole time, but they retreated and strategically hid the smiles on their faces. They shook their heads and said things such as, “oh no you can’t! We’ll figure it out don’t worry.” Until finally they caved and let you do it.

As if you had been begging for the job in the first place.

That’s how you found yourself in the position you were in now, watching everyone have fun around you and get completely and utterly wasted. Everyone drank around you as if it was their last night on Earth and they would never see alcohol again.

“Okay, so no response?” The voice asked again.

This time you decided to engage and tell whoever attempted to bother you and your sober self-pity party to leave you alone. You were instantly met with warm brown eyes and a bright smile that belonged to none other than Im Jaebeom.

You had seen him at many parties, often in a similar position as you – being the one responsible friend who took on the role of getting everyone home safely. Sometimes at these events you would shoot a smile at each other, sometimes it would just be a quick eye contact to acknowledge one another, but usually it would be you and Jaebeom talking and laughing about all of the drunk idiots around you. You had to admit that he made being the designated driver a little more bearable as you watched all your friends have fun around you. And you would be lying to yourself if you said the butterflies in your stomach whenever you saw him meant nothing.

Tonight, you felt those butterflies working overtime as you took what he was wearing. A light beige turtleneck that fit him tightly in the chest and shoulders showing off his broad frame but hanging loosely at his arms. It made you want to cozy up to him and have him make you scream his name all it once. How a stupid turtleneck did all that for Im Jaebeom you had no clue. The short sleeved khaki work short over his lower layer only emphasized his tall, broad frame and drew attention to the distressed, medium wash jeans that sat on his hip.

He looked hot. Something you obviously already knew, but it still always left you surprised when you felt a large pang of attraction for him just based on his style alone.

His entire look was complete with his current signature look – a backwards baseball cap. At Mark’s neon party a semester or two ago you remembered making a comment about how you thought backwards hats only looked good on a certain kind of guy. And that the certain kind of guy who was able to pull it off without looking like a douchebag was in your opinion, attractive. By certain kind of guy, you had meant Jaebeom, but you had figured he hadn’t caught on to that, but his fashion choices for the last few parties made you wonder if he was wearing them because of you.

You immediately shrugged the thought out of your head. As if Im Jaebeom would do anything for me. He doesn’t do anything for anyone.

With the time spent on his appearance you hardly noticed the red cup in his hand, which made you frown almost immediately. “Not the DD tonight?” You asked, a little bit sad that he wouldn’t be your sober buddy for the night.

He smiled at you sheepishly and tipped the cup towards you in an effort for you to be able to view the inside, “It’s just water.”

You pretended to be shocked and gazed at him with wide eyes, “Im Jaebeom are you telling me that you’re ditching your one true love, strawberry milk for water?”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes at you pretending to be annoyed, but you could tell by the glimmer in his eyes and the corner of his mouth moving upwards, he was attempting to tease you. As was most of the encounters you had with him.

In a way you hoped that the teasing you often did to one another would lead to something more. In fact, it almost felt like your own version of a cat and mouse game, but most of your contact with Jaebeom was simply left to the confounds of a party. Never had you approached one another on campus, or ever had the slightest attempt to slide into one another’s DMs. Maybe all you two were good for was being designated driver colleagues.

“So, who made you drive this time? Youngjae? Ooh no I bet it was Yugyeom.” At your question, you noticed him look down shyly.

“Ah… Well you know…” He paused and rubbed the back of his neck, “A little bit of everyone.”

You nodded your head in agreement, “same here. I was going to get wasted after the semester I had, but once again I guilted myself into after no one really volunteered.” Jaebeom cleared his throat, “well you know any time you feel like you’re being coerced into it I can always take you and your friends home? I could even do it tonight if you uh… wanted to.”

You felt your heart warm at his offer.

“That would be really nice of you Jae, but what about your friends?” You laughed and you could almost have sworn that he froze at your use of his nickname.

He nodded slightly and looked away from you, out towards the party and the drunk people surrounding you both, “right, right of course.”

“But you definitely make this whole always getting stuck with designated driver kinda fun,” you mused. He turned back to you immediately, batting his eyelashes, “only kinda? You know I make it kinda definitely fun.”

His response caused you to snort and you couldn’t help but disagree with him. He didn’t make it just kinda fun or kinda definitely fun, but instead he made the whole thing fun and worth it. The moments over the last year or so that he made you laugh, warmed you with the gentle touch of his hand on your arm or made you freeze with just one look, had you thinking that if you had to stay sober for the rest of your life while your friends had fun and partied around you, it would be okay as long as you were with Jaebeom. When you were with him it was as though you were intoxicated in your own kind of way. It was as if you were drunk on him.

But he clearly doesn’t feel the same way. Otherwise he would have done something already, right?

You felt his hand comfortingly go to your shoulder as it always did when he was about to begin one of his big stories about his cats, a new track he was producing, something Jinyoung had learned in his Philosophy lecture or anything in between.

Looking up to him with big eyes, ready to listen to anything Im Jaebeom has to tell you, you smiled softly to show him he has all your attention, “so what is it this time?”

Jaebeom was just about to open his mouth when you heard a crash and a familiar voice suddenly yell, “watch out!” It’s at that moment you turn to see a football coming directly towards your face. You froze, too unsure and slow to react to the object.

At that moment you felt warm arms wrap around your waist as you’re spun to the other side of Jaebeom, the football avoiding you completely and simply hitting the wall behind where you were originally stood.

“Are you okay?” Jaebeom asked you, looking down at you with eyes full of concern.

“Y-Yeah t-thank you,” you barely managed to stutter out. And you don’t know it’s from the the shock and fast pace of what just happened or Jaebeom’s arms still firmly wrapped around your waist, as if they were meant to always be there.

Jaebeom nodded at you and as he turned to face the culprit, you feel his arms move away from your waist and rest at his side. You felt yourself frown.

“Bambam are you an idiot or something? Why the hell are you playing football inside?” Jaebeom asked the younger boy with annoyance written all over his face.

The younger boy immediately rolled his eyes at him as if his indoor take on an outdoor sport was the most obvious thing in the world. “Jinyoung told me it wasn’t possible, so obviously I had to try.”

“If Jinyoung tells you it’s not possible to jump off a bridge, would you do it?” As if on cue, Bambam rolled his eyes again, “no Jaebeom, of course I wouldn’t.” He turned to you and moved his eyes in Jaebeom’s direction as if to say can you believe this guy?

“Sorry about your drink by the way,” Bambam suddenly said, leaning down to the floor by your feet. It’s then when you realize that Jaebeom was no longer holding his red cup, as he must have dropped it when he rallied to get out of the way of Bambam’s football game. Bambam picked up the cup and sniffed the inside of the cup once and handing it over to you, “here.”

You shook your head at him, “It’s Jae’s.”

Bambam looked at you with confusion and turned to Jaebeom, “are you already that drunk that you have to switch to water?” he cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes to take Jaebeom in, “you don’t look that drunk.” Once again you found yourself shaking your head at Bambam for his incorrect statement, “no, no, no. He’s the designated driver.”

He looked back and forth between you and Jaebeom for a moment with wide eyes until finally deciding to fixate them on you, “what!? Are you telling me that Jaebeom is sober? If I would have known I would be halfway to the hospital for excessive alcohol consumption,” he groaned, “why does everything bad always happen to me?”

This time it’s you who looked at him in confusion, unsure of what he was saying and that’s when you took notice of Jaebeom rubbing his hand against the back of his neck once again – his nervous habit.

“If you’re just going to abuse your right to party, then I’m never volunteering to be designated driver again,” Bambam muttered.

It’s at that moment when everything clicks, Jaebeom was pretending to have to be sober. But why?

You turned to Jaebeom, “Bam’s your guys’ DD? Why aren’t you drinking?” You smiled at him and grabbed him a bit, shaking him excitedly, “you know taking part in organized binge drinking and alcohol poisoning?”

“I- well you know I just knew that you would probably be the one who has to drive all your friends home again… A-And you know I thought it would be lame if you were sober on your own so I just thought that I would keep you company.”

Bambam doesn’t hide his annoyance at Jaebeom, “I would have also been sober with her… and you know what? I am!” Jaebeom turned to look at Bambam with a scowl on his face, “Yeah but I’m the one who likes her so you should just shut your-” Jaebeom cuts himself off and widens his eyes, at a loss for words, not believing the confession he had just let slip from his mouth.

“You like me?” You asked him, also not quite believing Jaebeom’s sudden reveal.

He turned to look at you softly, lowering his head gently to the side, “Y-yeah and I planned on asking you to hangout away from all of our drunk friends and confessing to you somewhere a bit better. Like that tree you always sit under by the main quad or the rose garden near my apartment, literally anywhere else besides here.” He paused and groaned, putting his head in his heads woefully, “and now I’ve given probably the worst confession ever… Yelling at this stupid idiot,” he muttered bitterly, his eyes fixed on Bambam angrily.

Just knowing he wanted to take you somewhere special to confess his feelings for you was more than enough to give you the same warm buzz you know you would have felt if he had performed a grand romantic gesture, but somehow him doing it here – at a party surrounded by drunk people and scolding Bambam was kind of perfect in its own way.

In yours and Jaebeom’s way.

You reached out to grab Jaebeom’s hand before he can stop himself from doing any kind of damage to Bambam. At your touch, and your hand in his you felt him relax.

Delicately, you set your eyes on his and he returns your fragile look almost as though you both are having a silent conversation with one another. You had already known what you felt for Jaebeom was more than just casual friends who kept each other sane during a party, but for the first time since meeting him you realized that you wanted Jaebeom to have every piece of you and for the first time ever you weren’t scared of that.

You rubbed your thumb over his hand and felt yourself look at him shyly, “why don’t we go talk about this… upstairs?”

It takes a moment for him to figure out what you mean, and he almost chokes when he realizes, “t-that would be good. I would like that.”

Without another word you tugged on his hand, leading him through the crowd of partygoers and towards the stairs, leaving Bambam to gawk at both of you in shock.

“What’s going on over there?” Your best friend asked Bambam, slurring her words from her last few hours of too many cups of jungle juice.

Bambam blinked slowly for a moment, getting out of his state of surprise. He placed his hand on her shoulder and pat it comfortingly, “your designated driver and my new designated driver are going upstairs to have sex, so I hope you’re not planning on going home any time soon.”

She stared at him blankly, lost in confusion.

He pats her one more time and began his walk towards the kitchen, “now if you excuse me, I’m going to go get hammered. I have some catching up to do.”

#got7 fanfic #got7 au #im jaebeom #jaebeom fanfic #got7 fic

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etherealwaifgoddess · 4 years

Text

Maybe I Am? - Chpt.3

Characters: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Summary: The guys meet up for a casual Sunday farmers market trip but when they get back to Bucky’s apartment things heat up fast. Master list HERE.

Content Warning: basic second base smuttiness; swapping hand jobs and some frottage.

Word Count: 5k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! I told ya'll there was gonna a lot of smut in this one and I'm starting to deliver as of this chapter :) So please, enjoy some lovely smuttiness on this fine Wednesday evening lol. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Three

“I told you so.” Natasha cheered over their plate of danishes the next morning.

Bucky’s smile was sphinx-like as he nibbled on his pastry, “You did. I’m still not 100% sure he’s not going to just bolt at some point but I think that’s a risk I’m going to have to take.”

“It sounds like a risk worth taking if one kiss has you smiling like that twelve hours later.”

“Ugh, Nat! And for the record, it was more than just one.” Bucky chuckled as Natasha shoved at him playfully.

Across town Steve was helping Sam tidy up in between classes and trying to avoid the grilling he knew Sam wanted to give. They had recapped the last class and personal training sessions and planned out the room for the next group coming in. They went over all the adjustments needed to the next week’s schedule since they were still covering for Thor who was out on paternity leave for the next four weeks now that his wife Jane had the baby. By the time they were setting the last of the kettle bells on the rack they had run out of gym related topics. Sam gave him another side eyed glance and Steve sighed, knowing what was coming.

“So are you still talking to Bucky?” Sam finally asked.

Steve had been reluctant to tell Sam about anything other than their first meeting. He hadn’t even told Sam why he’d bought the new outfit for earlier that week. It was still so new and he was unsure himself of where things were going, or where he even wanted them to go. He figured if in the end he realized he was bi or gay or whatever, then he could tell his friends. But until he was sure there was no point in announcing anything. “I am.” Steve admitted reluctantly.

“And how’s that going?” Sam seemed genuinely interested but Steve still clammed up.

“Good, he’s a good friend. We’ve been swapping memes all week.”

“Nice. See, it all worked out and now you have someone else to send those stupid GIFs from The Office to.”

“Hey, don’t knock one of the best TV shows of all time.” Steve glared pointedly.

“Whatever floats your boat, man.” Sam moved on, heading over to the desk to check the roster one last time before he started pulling out mats for their next class. A small twinge of guilt bit in Steve’s stomach, knowing he had let Sam make a wrong conclusion and hadn’t corrected him. But really, what was the point if he still wasn’t sure of everything himself?

xxXxx

Bucky woke early on the Sunday after their date, restless in a way he hadn’t been in a while. He wanted to see Steve again but it had only been a day. Bucky busied himself with too much coffee and a book while he did laundry in his building's basement, trying to distract himself for a while. By 10am all of his standard keep busy chores were done and he was staring at his phone, trying to make Steve text him by sheer force of will. Giving up he started swiping through Instagram, catching up on his friend’s weekend adventures. Pepper had posted a cute picture of a bouquet she bought at the local farmers market and Bucky realized he had found the perfect reason to text Steve. It was innocent enough and casual so if Steve was busy or declined it wasn’t earth shattering. Plan in place, Bucky fired off a quick text.

Bucky Barnes [10:17:44AM]: hey u. im heading 2 the farmers market in sunset park. gonna stop 4 more of that wine. wanna come?

Steeeeve [10:19:23AM]: Hey! That sounds fun. What time?

Bucky Barnes [10:19:52AM]: headed over now if ur free

Steeeeve [10:20:08AM]: Okay. I just need to throw on some shoes and I’ll head out. I can be there in like 15min.

Bucky Barnes [10:20:33AM]: k see u then

Bucky scrambled to fix his hair and pick a shirt from the pile he’d just brought up. He hadn’t expected Steve to be willing to meet up so quickly and he was still wearing his laundry day sweatpants. He was closer to the market than Steve but he also needed more time to get ready so he ended up getting a “I’m here” text from Steve on his way.

Steve was waiting by a jewelry stand when Bucky caught up with him. He had been wandering around for a few minutes and the display of beaded bracelets caught his eye. They reminded him of the ones Bucky had worn when they first met and he wondered which ones Bucky would like.

“Hey!” Bucky greeted him with a small wave as he approached.

“Hey.” Steve echoed happily. He almost reached out for a hug but something held him back and after a second ticked by he realized he should have just done it but the moment had passed.

“What are you looking at?” Bucky asked, a little disappointed he hadn’t gotten their standard greeting hug and wanting to move on.

“Oh, these things caught my eye while I was browsing.”

“They’re nice. I love the way the translucent ones almost glow.” Bucky picked up one of the vivid pink ones, letting the sunlight hit it from different angles.

“Let me buy it for you.” Steve offered before his brain caught up with his mouth.

Bucky looked skeptically at him, “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to, please?”

“Thanks, Stevie.” Bucky said softly, handing the bracelet over.

Steve blushed at the nickname, ducking his head and walking over to pay the sales girl for the bracelet. Once purchased, he returned it to Bucky who slid it on his wrist next to the two others he was currently wearing.

“Perfect.” Steve praised.

Bucky was looking appreciatively at his newest addition while Steve was looking appreciatively at Bucky. God, he was gorgeous. Bucky was dressed casually in light washed jeans and a dark grey shirt with no one should live in a closet written in fancy script with a wand below it, all in rainbow colors. Leave it to Bucky. “I like your shirt. Harry Potter reference, right?” Steve guessed.

“Yep. I found it at Pride last year and I’m completely in love with it.”

“It’s very you.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” Bucky preened for a moment.

Steve chuckled, “Come on, let’s go get some coffee. Altitude Coffee has a little pop up shop back that way.”

Steve and Bucky trailed their way through the bustling farmers market, picking up things here and there. Some they actually needed for groceries, but others were just fun impulse buys. They each had overly full canvas totes by the time they were done, and hauled their finds along with them to the wine shop. They each bought a full box from the shop, having stocked up on a half case of their favorites, which only further slowed Bucky down. While Steve had the muscles and endurance to haul a giant tote and six bottles of wine around the city, Bucky did not.

“Uh, Steve.” Bucky panted out, finally giving up.

Steve looked over and realized Bucky had fallen a few steps behind while he was talking about a winery he had visited while in Canada a few years ago.

“I think I need to tap out.” Bucky admitted while shifting his bag as much as he could to get comfortable.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” Steve shifted his tote higher on his shoulder, wondering if he could sling Bucky’s on next to his. “Here, let me take your bag.” he extended a hand towards Bucky’s bag.

Bucky was conflicted, he wanted to try and at least get his stuff home but Steve probably could carry both without breaking a sweat. Damned muscled god of a man. “How about this? Since I’m the one wimping out, let me call us an Uber. I can probably get us one less than five minutes.”

Steve frowned at the idea of an expensive ride all the back to Park Slope. “You don’t have to do that. I can carry our stuff.”

“If I call us an Uber we could go back to my place and try that baguette and jam I bought.”

“Ooh, that’s a good bribe. I have that cheese I got too.” Steve looked at Bucky for a long moment. An afternoon of good food and even better company was too tempting to pass up. “You sure you don’t mind me coming over?”

“Not at all. It’s a tiny little crap shack of a place, but it’s my tiny little crap shack.”

Bucky was already pulling up the app and ordering them a car when Steve finally said, “Okay, let’s go.”

The Uber ride back to Bucky’s place was barely more than ten minutes and they sat cramped in the back of a Prius with their wine boxes in the trunk and their totes in their laps. Bucky was trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness and shot Steve amused glances every so often, making the blonde have to tamp down his own laughter. By the time they got to Bucky’s apartment Steve practically leapt out of the tiny blue car, grateful to stretch back to his full height again. He insisted on carrying both of their totes and his box of wine bottles up to Bucky’s apartment, leaving Bucky his own wine to carry. Thankfully the building had an elevator and Steve seemed barely phased under the weight of all their stuff. Bucky tried to ignore the filthy thoughts racing through his head of what else Steve was strong enough to do. Like pick him up and fuck him against a wall. Or something. God, Bucky hoped Steve figured things out soon because he was barely through their second date and wanted to climb the man like a tree.

“Home sweet home.” Bucky announced as he swung the door open to his apartment. He flicked on the recessed lighting in the living room and showed Steve to the kitchen where he could put their bags down. It was a cute little one bedroom apartment with a decent sized living room and dine-in kitchen.

“It’s nice.” Steve said looking around as he placed their bags on the faux granite countertop.

“It’s tiny but it works.” Bucky shrugged.

Steve noticed the would be dining room area of the kitchen was set up with a desk and three wide computer monitors instead of a table. “That’s quite a set up over there.”

“Oh, yeah.” Bucky looked embarrassed for a moment, “It’s a little ridiculous, but when you work from home it’s kinda nice to have a sweet setup. When I signed on to work for Stark Securities they gave me a signing bonus so I splurged and bought better equipment and that fancy office chair. It was completely worth it too.”

“Good for you, you deserve it.”

Bucky blushed lightly at the sincerity of Steve’s tone. He nervously spun the bracelet Steve had bought him around his wrist a few times, hoping he wasn’t setting himself for heartache. “So, lunch?” Bucky offered, the momentary tension dissipating.

“Absolutely. Let’s break out that bread you got.” Steve started rifling through his bag for the soft cheese and candied pecans he’d bought while Bucky pulled out the heavy loaf of artisan bread, the little pot of homemade plum jam, and a bottle of Chloe Prosecco he’d bought at the wine shop. The bottle had been adorable with its fancy little bow and the sales girl had said it was a popular choice.

They laid out their feast on a large cutting board, teasing each other about how posh the whole thing was. It was a simple but seemingly elegant lunch spread and Bucky liked that their official second date had a bit of a classy feel to it.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a table or anything for us to eat at.” Bucky waved his hand at his little office space. “I normally just eat on the sofa like a heathen.”

“Honestly so do I.” Steve admitted with a chuckle.

“We can be heathens together then.” Bucky picked up their wine glasses while Steve carried the large tray out to the coffee table where they set up their feast. Flicking through his streaming channels he settled on Disney, knowing everyone loved those movies. “Have you seen the new Beauty and the Beast?”

Steve shook his head, “No, I heard it was good though.”

“Good?” Bucky feigned offense, “Stephen Gilligan Rogers.”

“Not my middle name.” Steve chuckled but Bucky was undeterred.

“BATB is not good. It is iconic. The elaborate costumes, the backdrops, the music, oh my god Steve, the music. We’re watching it. End of subject.” Bucky started up the movie, not even slightly apologetic for his dramatics. One had not lived until they saw Emma Watson as Belle.

Two hours later Bucky was curled up against Steve, watching with misty eyes as the palace furniture turned back into real people as the curse lifted. Steve was completely engrossed in the movie, barely registering that he had been stroking Bucky’s hair for the better part of an hour.

“Now do you see?” Bucky demanded as the credits rolled a few minutes later.

“You were right. That was amazing.” Steve conceded.

“It was always my favorite Disney movie as a kid but seeing it redone in such a perfect way really gets to me. I’ve threatened to dress up as Belle for the past three Halloweens now.”

Steve grinned at the idea, “I think you’d make a beautiful Belle.”

And just like that the air shifted. Bucky was suddenly very aware of how close they were curled up together and the way Steve was looking at him like he’d hung the moon. He didn’t want to rush Steve, he was willing to wait as Steve figured himself out, but if he kept looking at Bucky like that, his timeline needed to hurry up. “You’d make a very handsome beast.” he finally said, going for levity but falling short.

Steve blushed so prettily, his eyes locked on Bucky’s lips, the bottom of which he was chewing on again. Steve knew now it was a nervous tell and it gave him a little thrill knowing he wasn’t the only nervous one. “I think I’d like to kiss you again.” he admitted quietly.

“You don’t have to ask, honey.” Bucky purred, leaning in to press a tender kiss against Steve’s lips.

Steve’s body was shaking with nervous energy as Bucky shifted up onto his knees so he could kiss Steve easier. Bucky tasted like wine and plums and something very uniquely him. It made Steve’s head spin as he chased Bucky’s tongue with his own. The fears and worries over what he was doing died away in that moment, his whole being consumed by his desire for the sweet man who was practically in his lap. Steve still wasn’t sure what it all meant, but he knew he wanted more.

Bucky was so thankful for a repeat of the night on Steve’s couch. Kissing Steve was electric and Bucky couldn’t get enough. The hard planes of his body pressed firmly up against the softer ones of Bucky’s, which only made Bucky more desperate for the close contact. Despite having a thicker build, Bucky felt small next to Steve and he loved it. Feeling brave, and praying desperately that Steve wouldn’t bolt, he swung a leg over Steve’s lap and sat himself atop Steve’s thighs. “Is this okay?” he asked once he was settled.

“Yeah.” Steve shuddered, “Yeah, it’s fine.” Steve let his hands come to rest on Bucky’s thick thighs on either side of his smaller ones. While Steve’s thighs were hard with well earned muscle, Bucky’s had natural musculature and a softness to them that had Steve wanting to sink his fingers into their plush expanse. Bucky had gone back to kissing him while his mind wandered and Steve decided to give Bucky’s thighs an exploratory squeeze. For science really, just to see if he would feel anything. The kissing so far had been fantastic but Steve worried they’d eventually hit a point where everything went to hell and he realized he was most definitely straight. And then he’d lose Bucky forever.

Bucky made a light huffing sound when Steve sunk his fingers into the soft meat of his thighs. He was thankful Steve was getting a little braver and decided to run his hands up and down the length of Steve’s ridiculously muscled chest and stomach in a tentative exploration of his own.

A choked noise made its way out of Steve’s throat as Bucky touched him with feather light hands. He wanted to rip his shirt off and give him all the access he wanted. But he was taking things slow, Steve reminded himself. Unfortunately, not all parts of Steve got that memo.

Bucky had shifted a bit trying to sprinkle kisses along the sharp edge of Steve’s jaw when he accidentally brushed against an unexpected guest. “Oh, shit, sorry.” he blurted out, moving back an inch so he wasn’t pressed against the, frankly enormous, erection in Steve’s pants.

Steve blushed from the tips of his ears all the way down his throat. “No, I’m sorry. I guess I got a little carried away.”

Bucky glanced down at the tenting of Steve’s pants. Damn, he wanted to get his hands on Steve like yesterday. “I could, uh,” he cleared his throat roughly, “help you. With that.” Steve looked at him with wide bright blue eyes, so open and unsure, that Bucky started backpedaling all in a rush, “Or not, we can stop. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Steve just grinned and leaned in to kiss Bucky again, his motions almost questioning. “I think I’d be okay going a little further this time.” he said quietly against Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky squeaked involuntarily at Steve’s words. He was now dealing with his own growing problem at the idea of getting to fool around a little with Steve. “If you’re sure. We can stop at any time.” he promised. It would probably kill him, but if Steve said stop at any point he would be off him in a second.

“I trust you, Buck.” Steve told him, brushing a strand of hair back behind Bucky’s ear.

Bucky wanted to melt at the trust Steve had in him. He was too good to be true and Bucky just had to hope it would all work out. Gay or straight or somewhere in between, Steve Rogers was an absolute dream partner. Bucky shifted himself forward a little so the hard length in his pants could rub against the one in Steve’s while they kissed a little more. Bucky let his hips rock a little as they moved, giving them both a little bit of tortuous friction.

Steve was panting like he’d run a marathon, and he knew this from personal experience when he and Sam had run the New York City Marathon a few years back as publicity for their gym. He’d never thought making out on a sofa would have quite the same effect but life had been full of surprises for him lately. The friction against his dick felt amazing and there was a naughty little zing of arousal knowing it was from Bucky’s erection rubbing against his. He would never have expected to enjoy that so much but there he was, fighting for self control like a horny teenager. He wanted to get Bucky off too and not just selfishly sit back and let Bucky take care of him. Steve was well acquainted with getting himself off and really how different could it be doing it to someone else? He was feeling bold and brash, knowing a hand was just a hand and really he had to start somewhere. “I think I’m ready for more.” he spoke up in between heated kisses.

Bucky paused, jaw hanging open in shock. “Like, more more?”

Steve nodded rapidly. “Like second base more?” He held his breath, waiting for Bucky to process what he’d just asked for.

“God,” Bucky heaved out a breath, “You’re gonna be the death of me. Yes, second base, yes. Get those pants off, Rogers.” He stripped his own shirt off eagerly while Steve just sat there, amused.

“I kinda have this gorgeous guy on my lap at the moment.” he teased.

“Sorry!” Bucky yelped, hopping up so Steve could pull his pants down and off, quickly followed by his tee shirt. He sat in just his boxer briefs on Bucky’s sofa, looking like every Calvin Klien ad fantasy Bucky’d ever had come to life. “Jesus.” he whispered harshly. Bucky couldn’t get his own pants off fast enough, leaving him in his own silky boxers to resume his perch on Steve’s lap.

Unconfined by pants Bucky got a better feel of Steve’s cock and he was thanking every saint he could think of for what was about to happen. He shifted himself closer to Steve, his thighs spreading wider, and he reached down to give Steve’s cock a tentative squeeze over top the soft cotton of his underwear.

“Ohh.” Steve gasped out, his body trembling once again. His eyes were glued on Bucky, not wanting to miss a moment. He was so handsome sitting on Steve’s lap. His long hair shining in the afternoon sun that flooded in the glass balcony doors, his lightly tanned skin decorated with a series of finely detailed tattoos. While his muscles weren’t hard and cut like Steve’s, Steve loved the slight softness of the other man’s body, giving him something to sink his fingers into along his sides. It felt nice, and right, and Steve realized in that moment he was more invested in what was about to happen than he had been for most the sexual encounters he’d had with Peggy. It was startling but Steve pushed it down to deal with another day. In the moment, all that mattered was Bucky.

“Can I?” Bucky asked, trailing his fingers along the waistband of Steve’s boxer briefs.

“Yeah. Can I?” Steve echoed, tugging at the silky material at Bucky’s hip.

“If you’re sure.” Bucky prayed silently that having an actual cock in his hand wouldn’t send Steve running for the hills.

But it didn’t. Steve pulled his underwear off when Bucky hopped up to do the same and he was all nervous excitement when Bucky resumed his perch. He hadn’t thought of what to expect but Steve was blatantly staring at the thick length of Bucky’s dick. It was shorter than his own, but Steve had already known he was considered a bit above average, and it was girthy in a way that made Steve wonder if he topped or bottomed. Because, Steve thought with amusement, these were things he had to consider now. But not right away. They would take things slow and he would see if this was even something he wanted to try. Steve reached out a hand to test the weight of Bucky’s dick in his palm. He slid his hand up and down for two quick strokes, testing how doing that made him feel and was pleasantly surprised that it was a pretty familiar act. The way Bucky hissed out a sharp breath and craned his neck back, eyes shut tight, made Steve’s own dick jump for attention. Oh, this was kind of fun. Steve moved his hand for another few stokes, enjoying the way Bucky’s body reacted so blatantly to the pleasure. It was easy to get him worked up like that and Steve was genuinely enjoying himself watching Bucky become a desperate, needy thing in his lap, thrusting a little into Steve’s fist.

“God. Fuck. Stevie, slow down.” Bucky pleaded. “I wanna take care of you too, honey. Can I? Please?”

“Okay.” Steve acquiesced, bracing himself for the pressure of Bucky’s hand around his dick.

Bucky eagerly wrapped his fist around the hard length of Steve’s cock, sliding it up and down the impressive length until Steve gasped. He leaned forward to kiss Steve from his jaw down his neck to his collarbones while he groped him fervently between their two overheated bodies. For as simple as it was, it was absolutely exquisite. “How you doing, Stevie?” Bucky prompted, wanting to check in to ensure Steve was still on board. He rested his forehead on Steve’s shoulder, waiting patiently for him to respond.

“So good.” Steve managed to moan out. “This is amazing.”

“Wanna try something even more amazing?” Bucky grinned devilishly. “Just hand stuff, promise.” he added for reassurance.

“What can be better than this?” Steve questioned but motioned for Bucky to go ahead with whatever he had in mind.

Carefully, Bucky shifted forward one last time, pressing as close to Steve as humanly possible making his over stretched thighs burn in the process. He slipped his hand from Steve’s cock and lined it up with his own, wrapping his fist around them both the best he could. He gave them a quick stroke, reveling in the sensation and waiting to see if Steve would enjoy it too.

Steve’s whimper was a good sign. “Please.” he begged, “Please, please do that.”

Bucky picked up the motion again, rhythmically pumping them in his fist. Steve was making little broken ahh sounds, unable to keep up with the pleasure thrumming through his body, and it spurred Bucky on to bring them both racing towards their release.

Steve could feel the pressure building, his body was on fire and he could barely bite out a warning to Bucky as he felt his orgasm ripping through him. A half formed “I’m g-” was all the warning Bucky got before Steve was spilling all over his hand and cock. Watching Steve come undone, the pure bliss on his face, had Bucky following him over the edge of his own climax seconds later. His body shook hard as he spilled over his hand and across the rippled muscles of Steve’s abs.

Steve’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes shining, and Bucky mused he probably looked about the same. Steve was so stunning sitting there with a wide, lazy blissed out smile on his face. Bucky giggled a little realizing how incredibly lucky he was. Steve really was just perfection.

“What?” Steve asked, joining in Bucky’s infectious laughter.

“You’re perfect.” Bucky admitted, speaking what was on his mind.

“And you’re beautiful.” Steve leaned up to push Bucky’s hair back where it had fallen forward in his face. He pressed two chaste kisses against his lips before pulling back, feeling a little extra affectionate in his post-orgasmic haze.

Bucky made a muffled mmph sound, leaning into Steve, just wanting to be close for a moment. “We made quite a mess.” he said finally, the squidgy feeling of their come between their stomachs not exactly a pleasant one.

“We should clean up.” Steve agreed.

“Come on, I have some wet wipes in my room.” Bucky lifted himself up off of Steve’s lap, suddenly cold without their skin to skin contact.

Steve noticed his shiver and as soon as he was standing, he pulled Bucky close against him in a warm embrace.

Bucky basked in the warmth, his brain effectively turning to mush again at how sweet Steve was. “You spoil me.” he whispered against Steve’s firm pecs.

Steve dropped a kiss on top of Bucky’s head, “You deserve to be spoiled.”

It took every bit of willpower in Bucky to pull back and lead Steve down the hall to clean up. He could have stayed wrapped in Steve’s arms forever, sticky cooling mess on his stomach be damned. They exchanged quick, adorably awkward glances at each other as they cleaned up. Both wanting to get a more detailed look now the heat of the moment had passed. Steve tossed his wipes in the wastebasket by Bucky’s dresser and then pulled Bucky close by his hips, “You really are so beautiful, Buck.” he told him softly.

Bucky had been careful to wall up his heart when he decided to give Steve a chance. He didn’t want to risk another heartbreak less than a year after what he’d been through with Brock. But Steve’s sweet words and affectionate touches had the walls crumbling a little despite Bucky’s best defenses. “Careful.” he teased with a pang of truth to his words, “You’re gonna ruin me for all other men, you keep this up.”

Steve chuckled and kissed the top of Bucky’s head yet again. There were so many things he wanted to say in that moment. Raw, honest things that ached in his chest. But Steve kept them inside, not willing to let down his guard so completely just yet. He still didn’t really know what he was doing but damned if he wasn’t loving every second of it so far.

“Come on you, let’s get dressed.” Bucky said finally, tugging Steve’s hand into his and leading him back down the hall.

Steve left shortly after they’d redressed and cleaned up the mess from their lunch. It was a long, drawn out goodbye in the doorway, neither one of them really wanting to part despite knowing they both had to get on with their usual Sunday routines. Steve promised to text Bucky once he’d made it home, insisting he would have no trouble carrying his tote and box on the subway. And then he was off down the hall, looking back just once before he got on the elevator and wishing he could have stayed. Bucky walked over to his glass balcony door, watching the street below as Steve crossed it heading toward the nearest subway station. He was trying not to get too attached but after the day they’d spent together, Bucky knew it was a losing battle.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #idiots in love #confused steve rogers #gay bucky barnes #modern day au

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longassr1de · 4 years

Text

Best Boy (M)

Pairing: Haechan x fem!reader

Genre: Smut (nc-17!)

Word count: 2,666

Warnings: femdom, spanking, not quite choking but close to it (just once really), oral, a sappy moment, lots of teasing, unprotected sex, cowgirl..kinda, i'm probably forgetting stuff i'm sorry 😔 (i just really wanted to write something and then this drabble practice turned into a monster) oh and also i didn't proofread this yet & yolo wrote it at around 3am so im sorry for this monstrosityㅡ and also y/n is on birth control bc at least take precautions if you're not wrapping it before tapping it kiddos! 🤧

A/N: not to spoil the surprise but technically though it's not stated who it's about until around.. the middle i'd say? but.. it kind of is about a 00 liner so.. if you're uncomfortable with that then please just keep scrolling. thank you. i'm not sure how or why this post happened either but.. here we are yknow? that lil shiet has just been bugging me for awhile now and then a week later this happens im...🥺

A/N ...again: I ended up changing it from mystery member to just being straightforward about it so just.. bear with me until I redo the intro to include more detail. Sorry about that 😰

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"I thought you said you could take it, baby boy?" You look down at your boyfriend who was currently across your lap with a teasing grin, clearly enjoying his predicament.

"I- I-" he tries to interject, helplessly wracking his brain for any sort of rebuttal.

"Did I say you could speak?" The sharp raise of your now arched brow conveys more than your short sentence could have ever delivered. Consequently, you deliver another sharp smack to his bottom, continuing his punishment, which had been brought about by yet another one of his disobedient days. Such a brat, really.

"N-No..." you gently enclose your free hand around his neck, ushering his disobedient behavior back on track once again. "No ma'am!" he whines, cute pout on display as he whines desperately. "I'll be a good boy for you, I swear! Please!"

"Please what, baby boy? Use your words for me," you cooed towards him, almost mockingly.

"Please..." he licks at his bottom lip, jutting his glossing pout on proud display, "please fuck me... use me... anything..." He rasps as you pull him up by the hair to look at you in the eyes, a shaky breath escaping from the depths of his soul as you devour his ethereal presence. How did you ever find someone so beautiful in this realm of reality?

Sending one last spank to his supple bottom, you relish in the way his body both moves towards and away from your palm. "Very well then, my beautiful little brat. On your knees." You've been edging the poor boy for at least an hour now, so really, it's no wonder that he's in position for you before you can even begin counting. "If you behave like a good boy tonight, I might even reward you," your smile angelic, though your eyes are anything but. Deviously, you trace his raging hard-on with the tip of your toes, enjoying the way he shuts his eyes and drops his mouth open at the slimmest glimmer of pleasure he's been allowed. "But if you misbehave again, you're not coming for the next week. Understood?"

"Y-Yes ma'am!" he responds, almost in tears at the thought alone, much less after the arduous teasing he's endured tonight. Before anything, you lean down to kiss his supple lips, licking at his mouth with everything you've got, tangling your fingers in the curly tufts of his beautiful silver hair. Pulling away far too soon for either of your liking, you run your thumbs across his jawline and break from your role to ensure safety above all pleasure.

"Safeword?"

"Cloud." A smirk sent his way as he snaps from his daze. "..ma'am! It's still cloud...ma'am," he stutters out, in fear of further punishment.

"Good boy," you reward his quick fix with a kiss to his forehead before reaching behind you for a ribbon, toying with it as you fixate on whether to tie his hands in front of or behind his body tonight. "Heads or tails, baby boy?"

"Uh.." he tilts his head, not unlike a confused puppy. "Heads, ma'am?" an unsure answer rings out in the silence of your eventful night. You nod silently, working to gently but securely tie his hands in front of his body, just enough so that he can't give himself any pleasure.

Your boyfriend eyes you with a sparkle in his eyes, in awe at how effortlessly you complete the task. Truthfully however, the gleam in his doe eyes was moreso because of just how much he loves you, and how grateful he is for how attentive you are to his needs. You were the one who'd asked to let you dom him initially, but from then on it was him who would insist on it becoming more of a regular thing. He simply couldn't get enough of the confidence you exuded in times like these.

You were his drug, and he needed his fix, so what better way that to get his high through this?

Sensing that his mind had drifted elsewhere as he'd stopped squirming and whining, you look back up into his eyes, not expecting your boyfriend to be staring at you so.. lovingly.

"Penny for your thoughts, baby boy?"

"I love you," he just blurts out, chuckling at himself for a moment before you join him.

"Not sure where this is coming from, but I love you too, darling." Another kiss pressed unto his lips, kissing his smile until it parted to kiss you back. The warmth in your chest despite the filth in your recent actions proof enough that you made the right choice. You don't regret one moment from the moment you fell for your best friend, up until this very night. However, the ache between your thighs had yet to be sated, and as much as you wanted to cave, you figured it could wait until the aftercare (noting to give him twice as many cuddles tonight).

Pulling back with a thin line of spit till connecting you both, your grin turns mischievous once again. "But don't think I've forgotten for a second that you're being punished for your behavior tonight. You thought feeling me up at the restaurant was appropriate? In front of all your friends?"

"N-No ma'am! Not at all.. I'm sorry!" his eyes widen at the realization that his punishment was far from over. "I won't do it again!"

"Not sorry enough, I'll say. And if you ever try that again, I'm tying you to the headboard the entire weekend, understood?" Your boyfriend was so desperate he fell for your bluff, instantly straightening his posture to be the epitome of a "good boy".

"I'll do anything, anything at all.. please ma'am, anything but that!" he begs, hoping to get back on your good side, unknowing that your anger had long since subsided.

"Kiss me and make it all better then, baby boy. Apologize like you mean it," your sultry whisper utter sin upon his ears, sitting entirely undressed just inches away from his body that was screaming with desire. You slowly spread your thighs that had been rubbing up against each other, your slick wetness glistening as his throat feels parched at the sight before him. He blinks himself out of yet another daze, unbelieving that the wondrous angel in front of him is also the devil seducing him to ruin. As he gets closer to your heat, his pants become evident on your skin, making goosebumps arise in their wake.

"Don't tease me, baby, it'll only drag our your punishment," you tease, already locking your digits in his hair once again, anticipating the first touch of his tongue. He looks up at you as he makes contact with your nub, watching as your throw you head back, feeling as you grip his hair a little tighter, pull him a little closer. Humming contentedly, he dives right in to work, licking up your folds and sucking harshly at your clit, internally cursing at his useless arms at such a critical time like this. Instead, he decidedly works at your body with his mouth, working such wonders you were sure the other seven in the world suddenly paled in comparison.

"Ah, yes, just like that! Fuck," you cursed under your breath, raggedly breathing out as you bite at your lip, trying and failing to hold your moans in. Instead, you tighten your thighs around his head, fighting to keep your eyes open, only daring to look after he pulls back to catch his own breath, meeting his dangerous gaze with your shocked one.

Somewhere in the mix, you'd forgotten all about maintaining your strict dominance, instead unknowingly giving him some room to wiggle at the reigns, ever the challenging brat that he was and loved to be. He lived for making you make him submit, for every punishment and for every battle. It was so much fun, watching you get all hot in the face, in more ways than one.

"With all due respect ma'am," he shoots you his signature shit-eating grin from down below, clearly worked up by your reactions, even without the use of his hands, "your moans are absolutely gorgeous." He then sucks at your thighs, leaving many a dark bloom in their wake; he's clearly trying to prove a point now, cheeky almost to the point of cocky in the way he licks at your wetness off his lips. "I may even dare to say you're in for the fuck of your life tonight."

And you're just about to give him hell for his sudden brattiness until he goes right back to work, eating you out like a man starved, leaving you unable to come up with anything more coherent than a mutter of "Oh fuck you, Lee Donghyuck!" To which he simply laughs into your folds, sliding his tongue into your wet heat as you miserably yank at his hair, hoping he would somehow go back to behaving (used lightly, as he never truly behaves, save for when his neediness or the stresses of life sent him into subspace).

An intense orgasm builds up in your core and before you can even warn him, your release hits like a ton of bricks, bringing Donghyuck both closer and farther from your body, relishing in your orgasm yet unsure whether the excess of stimulation was something you could currently handle. You had fallen back onto the bed, unmoving for some time it would seem, as you soon hear the shuffling of feet before feeling a shift on the mattress. As best as he can, your boyfriend rests between your legs, attempting to assess your wellbeing.

"I'm fine, Hyuckie, just... that took a hell of a lot out of me," you chuckle, closing your eyes again to avoid the knowing look on his face. He goes to reach for your face, only to realize he can't, as his hands are still bound. Drawing your attention with a soft whine, you follow his gaze, helping to untie him, pressing loving kissed tenderly at his wrists. "Thank you, baby, you did so well for me."

"Can you take one more?" he prods gently, dying to be inside of you, yet not wanting to push your body past its limits.

"Of course, anything for you baby boy. Youu dessrve the bsst orgsmm after that," your words slur a little, still not over the impact on your body. Donghyuck tries to protest as you lay him down and climb over him, hissing as you sit on his length with little to no prep, taking him entirely by surpise. Not that he minded, he was just terrified he wouldn't last long after a night's worth of teasing, on top of getting front row seats to your hell of a release. Little to his knowledge however, that was exactly what you were counting on, ever since your orgasm took so much out of you that you'd begun to feel rather sleepy.

"I give you full permission baby boy. Fuck me." Your statement once again catches him off guard, as he had been a little preoccupied with how tight your velvet walls felt around his weeping cock.

"W-wait wha- aaahh.." And then it clicks. You weren't planning on riding him at all, you simply wanted the illusion of power from being on top, leaving him to do all the work. Donghyuck was no fool, however, and took the opportunity as quickly as he it came. You'd just barely settled against his chest, relishing in the warm feeling of his hands running down your back before feeling him grab at your ass; shutting his eyes as his head was thrown back in pleasure, fucking up into you almost animalistically from sheer need. He felt your blunt nails almost breaking the skin of his shoulders as he bit down on one of your own, pressing kisses in the aftermath of its mark, whimpering the filthiest of curses and singing the sweetest of praises by your ear.

As Donghyuck fervently fought to reach his own release, you felt yourself begin to race him towards your second. So much for punishment, was all you could think, and though the exhaustion on your body was evident, you simply couldn't bring yourself to complain, not when he was making you feel so fucking good.

"I'm so close, I'm gon... I'm.... ahh," he whined, rutting his hips desperately into your own, "please let me cum ma'am... I've been such a good boy for you... please." Surprised didn't even begin to cover your reaction, as you'd assumed all roles had been thrown out the window the second he'd gotten the green light. Nevertheless, your brain was humming with pride as your body thrummed with pleasure.

"Yes you have, you've been so good tonight, I think you deserve to cum. Let go now, give it to me baby boy," you run your hands through his hair, speaking into his forehead as your lower body continues to bounce from the force of his own humping up into you. "Prove that you're all mine," you mouth at his earlobe, moaning into it just to tease him, "fill me up." The final straw snaps upon your words, Donghyuck babbling utter nonsense as he cums, thick, white spurts of his release coating your walls as you finally clench around him, the feeling of his orgasm launching the onset of your own.

He continues to shallowly thrust up into you until neither one of you can take it anymore, squirming and groaning weakly at the overstimulation. You witness the strength leave your boyfriend's body rather dramatically, the way his eyes comically roll back in his head as your bodies slide down the headboard cause a fit of giggles to escape you. Donghyuck half opens his eyes to look at you, making grabby hands for your face as he grows soft inside you now. Carefully, you raise yourself up his body just enough to raise your cheeks in his sweaty palms, enjoying the gentle caress of his calloused fingertips padding across your features.

With a serious of hushed thank yous, he leans forward just enough to shower you with kisses, prompting you to return the gesture. He slips out of you and you make a face as the mixture of your cum slides down your thighs. Thankfully, you'd forseen your laziness and left a towel on your nightstand, and you reach over for it to clean the both of you up. Donghyuck is currently slipping in and out of sleep when you lay beside him, pulling him onto your chest as his arms wrap around your frame. It's times like this when he's asleep, so pure and unadulterated, that you can't help but adore his natural cuteness.

The supple curve of his lips, the gentle curl of his lashes, even his soft groan as he shifts to find a more comfortable position... all of it has you cooing at how delicate he was despite how tough he loves to pretend to be. If only his friends knew just how big of a baby he was around you, you wonder, how interesting would that conversation be.

Deciding to risk it, you simply can't help but place one last kiss to his forehead, softly rubbing at the base of his neck as he stirs, and you go still. Donghyuck simply buries his face into your neck now, pressing even more of his weight into your own, but all you can bring yourself to do is wrap your own around him, rubbing at his back soothingly. "Good night my beautiful boy, you did so well," his sleepy grin tickles the skin near the junction of your shoulder as he mumbles an unintelligible response, and just like that, he's asleep again in no time as you hum softly in reply.

Donghyuck may not always be the best boy, and me may not even a good boy most nights, but he'll always be your favorite boy, and in the end... that's all that really ever mattered.

#nct smut #nct scenarios #nct scenario #haechan scenarios #haechan smut #lee donghyuck scenarios #lee donghyuck smut #00 line smut #not at all what i intended to be my next fic as that m@rk one is still sitting im my drafts and i always swore I'd never write for dream bu #haechan has somehow managed to crawl under my skin as of recently 🥺#so anyway uuhh... I'll just casually let this post and then run away 5ever ok bye #my writing #my posts #longassr1de #longassr1de fics #nct dream #nct 127 #nct 127 scenarios #nct dream scenarios

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a-jynx · 5 years

Text

Date Night Terror

Summary: Three-year-old Harley and Uncle Dean get a night to themselves!

Warnings: Dean has a mini heart attack, like one curse word, all the fluff, and cuteness!

SPN Taglist: @laceyn-1201, @waywardnewcomer, @supernatural-teamfreewillpage, @i-hear-crazy-calling-my-name, @casiskween, @great-godpotato-akane, @closetspngirl, @specialagentlokitty, @dearsmileyman, @im–an–angel–you–assbutt, @destiel-trenchcoatangel, @msimpala67, @thetallassgirl @invisibledevour,@gabriels-trix, @gabby913, @xiumin-girl99, @stileslove, @fabinaforever11, @samwinchesterssexyface, @billiexmendes, @ilovemymoose, @hobby27, @moonlight-babeh, @moosekateer13, @exo-nova, @mlovesstories, @fabinaforever11, @shatteredabby, @keithseabrook27, @xostephanie,

^^^ This taglist is also open! 💖

Notes: So, I saw that everyone really liked “Who’s The Cutest?” and so I thought that Uncle Dean could use a little love! Hope you guys enjoy!

Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated & encouraged!

“Dean, are you sure..? I mean, Sam and I can just take date night some other night,” Y/N murmured as I waved her off, my other hand running gingerly through my niece’s hair as she slept on my chest.

“Y/N, I’m serious! You and Sam haven’t got to leave the bunker since we got back and I honestly don’t think I can take another night of you guys trying to have another Harley.” I teased as a bright blush worked over her cheeks, she scoffed at me.

“You’re just jealous,”

“Yeah, right.” I scoffed back as Sammy came around the corner, a large grin on his face as I nodded at him. He moved around the couch, his hand clasping my shoulder and squeezing before moving towards his wife, pressing a long kiss to her temple as she stared down at Harley, her eyes filled with worry.

“Y/N, I know you’re scared about leaving Har, but you guys seriously need this. Trust me, when Lisa and I were together she tried so hard to get us to have regular date nights, and I didn’t think they were needed but after dealing with Ben and work and such, I realized it was… Healthy, to get out of the house without your kid.” I shrugged as her shoulders slowly dropped from her neck as she nodded, turning towards Sam, who was grinning softly at her.

“Honestly, thank you for this, Dean… You have our numbers, Har’s food is in the fridge, and there’s-”

“Sammy, please, I’ve watched over a kid before. I practically raised you.” I smirked as he chuckled, nodding gently as he wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. She pressed a chaste kiss to his jawline before moving towards me, pressing a quick kiss to Harley’s crown before leaning up and pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek.

“Thank you, Dean-o.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” I moved gently, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek as she moved away, waving towards me before carefully making her way up the spiral staircase. Sam stood back before turning towards me, a quick look of hesitation.

“If you need anything,”

“I’m fine. Just… Go have fun, alright? Har and I will be fine,” I glanced down at the mess of long, chestnut-colored hair. Carefully, I placed one of my hands on her back and brushed my thumb over her spine, grinning as a small sound of satisfaction came from her.

“Go. Sammy.” I nodded for him to go ahead, and even with hesitation in his eyes, he slowly nodded before making the same ascend his wife did before him.

Sighing in content, I slouched more while adjusting the three-year-old’s body to where she could lay comfortably for a little longer. She should be waking up in a little… I sighed, reaching for TV remote and clicking play, adjusting my body once more before patting Har’s bottom to keep her satisfied as Jeopardy played on the screen before me. I somehow couldn’t feel any happier…

----

“Morning, sleepyhead,” I grinned as Har began to stir, one of her sunflower eyes popping open as she yawned, slowly sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. “How’d you sleep?” I grinned as she huffed, looking around before yawning once again.

“Where’s momma and dadda?” She smacked her lips, before slowly laying back on my chest, shifting her body to where she could see around the room.

“It’s going to be an Unca Dean and Harley night, what’d you say, hon’?” I grinned down at the little girl as she pursed her lips, slowly nodding before climbing down off of my lap and off of the couch before making grabby hands.

“Hon’ you just got down,” I chuckled as she shook her head, making another grabby hand before I stood and she yanked me towards her playroom. We walked for a few until she released my hand to wander further into the room. I stood by the doorway as she picked up her plush moose that Uncle Cas had gotten her.

“Unca Dea, can we pway?” Har batted her eyelashes at me as I grinned, already seeing her mother’s traits… “Sure, princess,” I grinned before moving carefully through the room, making sure to step over any of her building blocks or dolls that littered the carpet floor.

“What’d you wanna play, Har?”

“Chase!” She jumped as I furrowed my brows, frowning slightly. “Chase..? What’s chase?” I squatted down in front of her as she grinned, moving towards me and grabbing one of my hands while her arm kept her moose pressed against her side.

“Chase! Is de game where dadda counts and I wun!” I grinned at her, scooping her up in one arm before tickling at her sides, causing her to squeal and worm in my hold. I made it back to the living room before settling her onto the couch, a large smile on her face as I reflected it.

“Alright, princess, we’ll play your game but you have to promise you’ll eat all your dinner so you can be big and strong like Uncle Dean, alright?” I smirked as she tilted her head, resembling Cas as she pursed her lips.

“What about dadda?”

“Dadda is freakishly tall and lanky, Uncle Dean is big and strong,” I gently bopped her nose as she giggled grinning before wiggling to get off the couch once again. I stood as she moved towards the doorway.

“One,” her eyes lit up as she carefully sat her moose by the door, standing at ready as I arched a brow. “You gonna go, princess?”

“Uh-huh,” she giggled as my brows shot up before nodding.

“Two,” I took a few steps back with my arms at my side, waiting for her to take off. “Three,” she was getting anxious now as I fought back a grin. “Four,” and she was gone. Her little legs, quick as she took off down the hallway, her little giggles echoing as I chuckled before taking a few wandering steps forward.

“Five,” I whispered, grinning as I carefully walked down the hallway. My bare feet patting against the cement echoed as I moved throughout the rooms. “Oh, nooo~ where could’ve my princess gone?” I faked a gasp as I opened my room, glancing around before moving on to the next. Popping open Y/N and Sam’s room, I glanced around, flicking on the light but no sign of Harley either…

“Alright, ya little ninja, where the hell did you go?” I mumbled, turning off their light before making my way to the other bedrooms. None held Harley inside, a slow panic was starting to settle in.

“Alright, Harley, come on…” I called, wandering further into the bunker, shoving open doors and rampaging through the rooms. “Harley! It’s time to come out, please!” I shouted into the bunker as I felt my heart leap into my throat. I tugged at my hairs, there’s no way…. There’s no way I just lost my niece in our home!? I could feel my nerves slowly tighten as I quickened my step, shoving open door after door, yet she never appeared.

“Harley! Har, come on!” I screamed into the bunker, practically running around the corner only to stumble and trip over something. “Shit,” I grumbled before peaking under me, seeing the moose plush laying on the floor. I felt my heart drop to my stomach, and my mind began to wander. What if she went into the dungeon? What if she climbed up the steps and slipped out?! I could feel the prickle of tears welling up as I dragged myself to my knees, slouched over myself as I bit my lip, clenching my teeth into it as I felt tears ripple down my cheeks and blood drip onto the cement.

“Unca Dea..?” I huffed at the voice, spinning to where I landed on my ass, only grunt as Harley slammed her small body into my chest, her figure shaking as I quickly wrapped both arms around her, clenching my jaw as I held her close, my heart pounding in my ears.

“Oh, sweet mother of God, Har! Where the hell were you?!” I slightly growled, pulling her back gently to see her own tears cascading down her reddened cheeks. I felt my anger crumble at the sight of her sunflower eyes glossed over while a dribble of snot and spit dripped down her trembling lips and chin. I frowned, taking the edge of my sleep shirt and wiping at her face, cleaning it as she sniffled, her body shaking as her tears slowly died.

“I… I was hiding! I was hiding in mommy and dadda’s room and I - I eard you yellin’!” She coughed, as I groaned, wrapping my arms around her tightly as she buried her face into my chest.

“Sh, sh, princess it’s alright… I… Uncle Dean got scared when he couldn’t find you. I know you and daddy play it a lot but I didn’t know where you would’ve gone.” I murmured as she nodded, keeping her face against my chest. Glancing at the tv, I took a guess that it was later… Standing slowly, I lifted Harley with me and kept her tight to my chest, feeling my heart slowly calm from the mid-attack it had just endured.

“Alright, princess, let’s get you some dinner then we’ll go to bed.” I murmured, holding her in one arm while pulling out the chicken and rice dinner that Y/N was kind enough to cook before their date. I warmed it up and sat Harley at the table, letting her eat in peace as I went back to the fridge, pulling out a beer before closing it and returning to my spot on the counter. She at in silence as I stood there, my mind still wandering to places she could’ve gone.

“Unca Dea,”

“Yes, princess?”

“Are you upset wit me?” Harley asked quietly as my brows shot up. I blinked before setting my beer down and moving towards her, crouching in front of her with a faint smile. “No! No, princess, I’m not I promise you. I just got… Scared when I couldn’t find you!”

“But… You’re bwave,”

“There are moments where I have to be brave, princess. I have to be brave for your daddy, for your mommy, for Uncle Cas, and of course for you!” I tickled at her neck as she giggled, grinning as she kept her smile before turning back to me.

“I wanna be bwave too!”

“You are already so brave, princess! Now, let’s finish your dinner and head to bed, I have a few stories that I wanna tell you,” I grinned as she squealed, digging back into her dinner as I moved back to my counter space, watching with a smile.

----

“I have to admit, Dean-o was right,” I grinned as Sam and I exited Baby, my smile seemed permanent by now. “We needed a date night.” I moved around the car as Sam met me halfway, his arm wrapping around my shoulders as he pressed a long and sweet kiss to my lips. Our slightly drunk giggles echoed through the bunker as we exited the garage, yet I stopped as I glanced around the room, feeling sudden uneasiness.

“Babe?”

“Where’s Dean and Harley?” I mumbled, kicking off my heels and moving through the living room, the tv barely lighting up the place as I glanced into the kitchen, nothing. I moved towards the hallways, I felt almost a skip in my step as Sam’s footsteps echoed behind me. I felt my heart in my throat as I pushed open our bedroom door, the once neatly made bed was ruined. Swallowing, I quickly moved onto Dean’s room, pushing open the door and pausing. Sam’s front eased onto my back as we both stared ahead.

Harley was pressed against her uncle’s side, her hair spilling over his arm that kept her from falling off the edge. Dean’s light snores echoed through his room as I smiled softly, gently closing the door as Sam sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“It amazes me that he got her to sleep,”

“It shouldn’t, I mean, he did raise you,”

“Oh, okay, poke fun at dad, I see how it is.” Sam scoffed, wrapping an arm around me as we slowly made our way back to our shared bedroom. We flopped onto the bed as Sam rounded my waist with his arm, making me grin as I turned towards him.

“Y’ know, I thought this date night was going to turn into something… Horrific.”

“Date night terror?”

“Most definitely.” I scoffed as I wiggled against Sam, pressing myself into his chest as we both sighed. I bit at my lip before craning my head to see his face, which he angled down to stare back at me.

“Sammy, I… How would you feel about another?”

“Another… What, date night? Yeah, it could be-”

“No, you dope, well, yes that and… Another Harley?” I blinked, sheepishly smiling as he suddenly moved on top of me, pressing our lips tightly together as I grinned through the kiss, reaching up and entangling my fingers through his hair as he slowly pulled back, landing his forehead against mine.

“We’re going to need a lot more date nights,”

“Shut up, moose… Now, kiss like you missed me.” I grinned as he scoffed yet moved his head to press our lips tightly together. Honestly… I think we could get used to date nights.

----

Hope you guys enjoyed! Quick fic to get out since Part 13 of The Beast of Kansas is taking a little bit longer to write than I originally planned! Yet, I still hope you guys enjoy!

----

#Dad!Sam #Uncle!Dean #uncle dean #dad sam #cute uncle moments #Sam x reader #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Harley your daughter #spn fluff #spn smut #spn crack #Dean fluff #Sam fluff

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localmagicalboi · 4 years

Note

honestly ... my url but i’m literally any of my blogs or all of them / my character taste in general

✨ @grcndel for HEY, YOU, OVER THERE. SEND ME YOUR URL AND I WILL TELL YOU—! still accepting.

My Opinion on...

The character in general: i think i’m gonna be hopping back and forth because there’s just so much i wanna say but good god lmao if i said it all, we’d be here 4ever!!! lets talk about gren first. gren reminds me of my older relatives up north, and more speficifally the struggles they’ve endured. so i think for me he’s the one that touches me the most. and he’s so dimensional and there’s so many sides to him. i’ve seen him aggressive, i’ve seen him be ~soft, i’ve seen him happy, sad, just, this spectrum of every real, thoughtfully written emotions and experiences. the fact you’ve built his lore up to this point? oooo i luv that. i really dont know much about where he came from, but i can tell that you got the material you were given and turned that inch into a fucking mile!!!!!

bart…. do i rly gotta express my feelings, since u clearly know i would punch someone in the throat for him. culturally significant. esp part of a culture that i grew up with??? omg???? u know how often indigenous muses that arent horrible stereotypes or jeez plagued with imagery of dreamcatchers and feathers or some shit like its a personality trait float thru here. or seeing you know…… wendigo that isnt uh…. caucasian. u never see that shit!!! god i love good representation and the historical importance that comes with it!!!! luv me some creeper. man my mom loves jeeper creepers, so seeing him always makes me think of her lkgjdfgldfk. anyway. krampus? we support.

Thots 4 Krampus

^ im making that a shirt :)

How you play them: you have a writing style that stands out so strongly in this community. you don’t waste words, you make sure every. single. word. counts. you dont bullshit, but i see you having fun with experimenting and form and grammar. like there’s intent there. instead of throwing a bunch of meaningless shit at the wall and seeing if it sticks and passes as meaningful writing, there’s intent. you write with a distinct voice for every muse you take on and that??? is??? worth all my golf claps.dialogue is definitely a super strong point for you. overall, i’m very impressed with how you write these different lives and experiences.i have to tell u too that even over wire there’s something so distinct about your writing via IC messaging too. that shits hard to do. good on u, bruh. also i feel like i gotta give @hisband props because you two really bring out the best in each other

You, the Mun: you dont give a FUCK! and a no bullshit approach to matters that may arise in the community??? o yeah, i luv that. sometimes you remind me of this video in the best way. but lmao you know your shitposts too got me crackin up sometimes. and youve always been respectful and cool towards me, so thanks for that! i hope u experience a lot of great things in ur life!

Do I...

RP with you: yes. we have interacted. Would Like To Interact More !Want to RP with you: always……. Always. *steps out of ur closet* i will always wanna WRITE WITH U.Ship with you:Want to ship with you: listen if there every came an opportunity and the conditions were right……. i’d be like ‘mama mia, that’s a spicy meatball. sign me up.’

What is my...

One favorite thing about your blog: charm….. im talking overall. charm and the fact you care??? so much about ur muses, u obviously care about them so much. ill admit ive been rping for a long time and ive seen people be like ‘ok new muse!’ and its like 'alright what kind of half-baked, poorly thought out ideas do you have now and how long will it be until you fold this project because you actually have no idea how to carry it out because you rushed it?’

when you create your blogs i know for sure you thought about it.One favorite thing about you and your character: they feel like. people. people that have lived lives and are continuing to live them. they dont feel like a dossier with a bunch of personality traits that stay static in said traits. they evolve, they heal, they lose, they are people. its... :’)Overall Opinion ( with optional gif! ): HAVE A VERY STARSTRUCK USAGI?!?!

(Please keep in mind the mun’s answers will be honest and may come with brutal honesty! Send at your own risk.)

#[ ✨ moon crisis power make up!: ooc. ]#/ twas not joking... i would punch someone in the throat for one bart.#grcndel

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boymeetsweevil · 6 years

Text

For Science 4/7

Grouping: Reader x Nerd!Jungkook

Word Count: 9.6k (im sorry its so long!!)

Warnings/Themes: definitely probably nsfw but purposefully not that many again. drunk jungkook being angry and then clingy, idiot kook, making out? ANGST?? Hoseok being the slimiest being on the face of the earth,

Summary: Jungkook asks you to let him watch you get off. For science.

A/N: I would like to thank @b-angst-tan for beta reading this series as it is so far. I also would like to tag @m-icdrop , @jiminslye & @ephemeral-mindset to let you know that i finally got my shit together and posted lmao. hopefully i didnt leave anyone out who wanted to be tagged. if i did im very sorry and if you want to be tagged for subsequent posts, just DM me and let me know :)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5, part 6, part 7

You wonder if maybe you should have chosen something more weather appropriate as the chill of the still early air nips at your stockinged ankles. It was a hard choice: The fleece-lined sweatpants with the dried tide pod stuck at the hip or something cute and feminine so you could play catch-up with whatever nice thing Yoori was wearing. The sight of Yoori in a slightly similar outfit of an elegant pea coat and demure pleated skirt convinces you that you made the right decision. But while your anxiety about picking the right clothes wanes, a sudden wave of exhaustion hits you. Normally you would be able to rest on a Saturday after 90 minutes of contorting yourself into endurance-testing positions, but today you had no time to untangle mentally—only physically—as you rushed through a shower to give yourself enough time to run to your apartment to grab a change of clothes.

Yoori looks up from her phone and sees you approaching her where she stands by a Starbuck’s storefront. A large grin splits her face, revealing a pair of adorable dimples on each cheek. You’re not expecting her to shove her phone into her coat pocket so she can run over to you and crush you in her arms.

“Hi, how are you!”

“Oh, uh, I’m good. How are you settling in?” Her grasp is fairly constricting , but you try not to appear shaken as you spit her hair out your mouth.

“I’m doing fine. I leased my apartment while I was away so, I’m still at the hotel until that contract ends. But that’s only for a few more weeks. After that I’ll move back in and really be at home. You smell lovely by the way. What scent is that?”

“Thanks,” you blink, “It’s just soap.”

“Mm, what kind of soap?”

“The dollar store kind.” She nods with a smile. “Um, where are we going?”

“Just to this little place up on Main Street. It’s called La Lune, have you heard of it?”

“Of course I have. They’re notorious for only ever being un-booked twice a year! And even then it’s just because they’re taking breaks so the owner can fly to her house in Paris.”

Yoori plays with the sleeve of her coat. “I suppose it does have a bit of a reputation. I must have just gotten lucky with their date book.”

“Don’t you need an appointment to get in?”

“Yes,” Yoori trails off.

“Will we be able to even get in? I-I didn’t call ahead to make a reservation since you said you’d take care of the plans for today.”

“They said they have an extra spot open for us today since they’re training a new technician.”

You don’t push because you know what they say about looking gift horses in the mouth. But you can’t help but wonder how you could have gotten so lucky on your first attempt to get seen at the nail shop. Any suspicion you have about Yoori’s methods of getting onto the appointment book evaporates when you step foot into the shop.

From looking at the pictures of the interior that you could find on Google images, you know that the design is based off of a bunch of spas that the owner herself went to during her many travels to Europe. All the décor is a novel twist of organic meets minimal with polished woods and metals and clean, sloping lines all existing harmoniously. You sit down in a plush chair in the waiting area while Yoori chats enthusiastically with the woman sitting behind the front desk. She does a little spin for her as they most likely talk about how much prettier she looks since the last time she came to the shop.

After confirming the appointment, Yoori makes her way over and sits next to you. She leans over the arm of her chair to peer over your shoulder at the vials of designer nail polish in your hands.

“Do you know what color you’re going to get?”

“Not yet. I usually just do black since it doesn’t clash and it doesn’t make my fingers look as stumpy”

“What are you talking about? Your hands are precious.” She reaches over to bring one up to inspect. “You have such a nice natural nailbed color. A nude would be perfect.”

“You don’t have to flatter me, I know what my hands are like. We can’t all have perfect OPI model hands, Yoori.”

She grins at your indirect compliment. “You think they’re perfect?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. Some things are just objective facts.” She’s quiet for a bit, a small expression on her face as she looks at you carefully.

“I think this shade would look good on you”, she picks out a specific soft shade that highlights that mimics that pink tone of your nails. “Plus, its suitable for the winter and spring. So, you could wear it for a while.”

“It’s really pretty. Thanks.”

“I could buy it for you. If you like.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to do that, you’re already doing so much for me today as is. I—“

“Too late.” She swipes the bottle out of your hand and gets up to go pay.

The guilt is too much for you to sit back and let it happen, so you launch yourself out of the chair and rush past her to the front desk, debit card out and ready.

“I’d like the buy the shade that Yoori has in her hand, please. Thank you.”

Her eyes are wide, but she doesn’t argue, and lets you buy the shade. You give her a pat on the arm and accept the tiny satin drawstring gift bag and try not to think about the chunk of money that just left your account.

You can only assume the rest of the nail appointment is nice but you can’t know for sure. You do know that you must have enjoyed yourself because you promptly fall asleep two minutes into the hot rock hand massage that comes with every booking. Yoori snapped a quick picture of your lax dreaming face and woke you up when the technician asked her what shape you wanted your nails. Leaving the salon finds you refreshed and with a beautiful manicure.

“Feeling hungry yet,” Yoori asks after she catches you staring wistfully at a random pedestrian with a bagel. “There’s still time for it to be brunch at the place I was talking about.”

“Yeah. It’s just too bad my nails are all nice now,” you joke. “Saturday mornings are for ribs at my house.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. They don’t have ribs on their brunch menu, I don’t think. Do you want ribs? I can check and see if there are any barbecue places that are open for lunch.” She fumbles for her phone and types frantically like she didn’t just get a hundred-dollar manicure.

“Yoori, Yoori, hold on! I was just kidding. There’s no way in hell I’m messing these nails up. I’m almost considering just drinking water for lunch so I don’t have to use my hands.”

“Wow, you…really got me.” She lets out a breath of relief before side-eyeing you. “Are you sure you don’t want ribs?”

“Positive.”

“Good,” she chuckles.

The two of you make small talk about what brought each of you to engineering as you take walking directions from Yoori’s phone. The walk ends at a pretty looking place with a yet another French sounding name. It’s filled to the brim with fresh flowers, giving the air a sweet scent that has your mouth watering even more. You take a chance and allow Yoori to order for you, trying not to be suspicious of the strange cheese dish she orders as an appetizer.

“—And that’s how we met Tae. We didn’t meet Hoseok until about a month later when he spilled his drink on me in line for the comic book signing at the campus bookshop that one year.”

“I think I remember that day, actually,” Yoori blinks up as if sifting through the memory in mid-air.

“Oh! Did you go? I feel like I would have noticed another girl there. I think I could count all of us there on one hand.”

“No, I wasn’t there. I’m not a comic book person actually. I just remember seeing all the people coming back in cosplay. There was actually this one really beautiful green elf costume I saw on my way to class. There were lights woven into the fabric and everything—I almost took a photo.”

Your cheeks heat up and you duck your head to take a sip of your extremely expensive blood orange mimosa. “That was actually me.”

“Was it really? Did you make it yourself?”

“No—well, yeah, I did the bulk. But Jungkook helped me a lot and Tae helped me find the materials.”

“And Hoseok?”

“Hoseok scratched his ass and watched.”

“Wow, I can’t believe that was you. It’s like destiny. We must have been meant to meet,” she lays a hand next to yours. You can’t help but notice how well the color of her pastel nails goes with your nude.

“Yeah, I suppose so. But enough about me, I feel like I’ve just been blabbering on and on about my friends.”

“No, I love hearing about them. I always envy people with lots of stories to tell about their friends. I feel like I have to ask,” she trails off, a shy smile splitting her face. “What’s it like being the only girl in that friend group?”

“It’s…only mildly frustrating,” you say with a laugh as your food arrives. It smells wonderful and given the amount of truffle shavings, you’re glad you chose to come here on a day that you weren’t paying.

“How so?”

“I mean, you know how guys are and you know how STEM guys are. Add to that the fact that they aren’t getting laid and you have a very interesting strain of emotional constipation.” Yoori nods along understandingly. “And let’s not forget all the stupid questions they ask me since they can’t ask any other woman.”

“That sounds like it might be frustrating.” You chuckle at her diplomatic tone.

“I mean it is, but they’re nicer than most guys and they mean well.”

The sly smile appears again and she leans forward to create a bubble of privacy.

“Nothing more than platonic has ever happened between you and one of them?”

Thankfully, a waiter rushes by and bumps the table a little and you can use that as an excuse for suddenly choking on your food. You certainly weren’t expecting her to inquire about your sex life so early into the conversation, and the irony of the situation isn’t lost on you. Of course, the apple of Jungkook’s eye would ask you about which of your guy friends you’ve ever screwed around with.

You blot at your face with a cloth napkin. Luckily for you, the way you look when you’ve narrowly avoided asphyxiation and when you’re concealing guilt is very similar. “Oh my god, please. I’m trying to enjoy this food, not regurgitate it. But to answer your question, no. They’re not my type. They’re too…” you make some abstract gesture in the air with your fork and Yoori nods.

“What about Jungkook, then? Surely, he’s decent otherwise I’m sure you would have warned me by now.”

“No, he’s nice. He’s a little out of it sometimes, but that’s always been his thing, you know? But he’s really kind and warm and funny in his own way. Plus, he’s in love with you so I don’t think you have to worry about him doing the man-child thing too much.”

Yoori blushes and shifts in her seat, looking a little uncomfortable. “Yes, I figured as much.”

“Can I ask what took so long for you two to finally meet up? I just—I know he’s been contacting you for a while now.”

“It’s complicated,” she sighs.

“I can keep up.”

“You could say I’ve just always been very wary of the men in our department. They’re not your average guys, but they’re still men. They still want the same things from you. And,” she looks away from you to continue. “I wasn’t sure if Jungkook was that way as well. So, I kept my distance. This must seem pretty suspect to you. Especially since it happened after he got put on the department website. I’ve heard what some people have been saying.”

Your hands fly out to console her. “Oh my god, of course not. That makes total sense. You’re not obligated to entertain everyone who expresses interest in you. I get it.”

“Oh, gosh, I feel so bad.” She hangs her head in her hands and you watch helplessly as her hair nearly falls into her water glass. When you inquire why, she shakes her head with guilt. “Jungkook never outright expressed an interest in dating until a few weeks ago. All the times before that, he’d been a perfect gentleman via text. But it was the way he would stare at me in public with those…those moonpie eyes!”

“He does look like that sometimes. Especially with those glasses.” She points at you like you’ve hit the nail on the head.

After doing a cursory look around the restaurant to make sure no one around will be able to hear her confession, she elaborates. “It was just so obvious how he felt and I was so used to guys feigning wanting to be platonic friends only to corner me in the parking lot after what was supposed to be a friendly dinner out. I-I couldn’t trust him. But then I heard that you were friends with him and I decided I would give it a chance.”

“Why would you trust him just because of me?”

“I have my reasons. And I just figured if you were willing to be friends with him, he might not be so bad. Plus, my mom has been pestering me about getting married and I wanted to get her off my back.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re giving him a chance. It means the world to him and he can finally stop pining silently. When is your first date,” you ask neutrally. Although you know that as soon as you get a date, you’ll have to terminate your weekends with Jungkook.

“Oh well we haven’t really discussed anything like that. I think he might ask about it soon, though. I’ll keep you posted.” The little eye roll and laugh she lets out breaks the heavy mood and you try to steer the conversation in a lighter direction.

“Tell me about your friends, Yoori.”

“Me? Well, I probably don’t have as much to say as you do. Most of my friends have long since finished the program and I’ve been so busy with my dissertation that I just don’t have as much time as I used to for hanging out and stuff like that.”

“I thought you were friends with Sunyoung. The bio double major? Jungkook said you were pretty close.”

“Well, he’s right. At first, we were. She’s been really busy ever since she got engaged, so,” she trails off.

“To that Jaehyun guy, right? But, wait,” you drop your fork as the details fall into place. “Weren’t you guys all friends? And didn’t they get married like half a year ago?” Your heart breaks when you realize Yoori may have been alone for at least 6 months while working.

“I could tell I was making things difficult by third wheeling, so Sunyoung suggested I give them some space.”

You were pretty certain you saw Sunyoung and Jaehyun hanging out with a few of the other women in the engineering building on the regular when you went to print things for class using the department printer. Even with her indirect language, it’s pretty clear what happened between Yoori and her friend and you don’t push. Though you do feel bad for the animosity you felt towards her when she first introduced herself.

“Well, I’m glad we met. It’s nice to finally have a new girlfriend,” you say. She looks up at you with slightly dim eyes but perks up when you lace your fingers together briefly.

The smile she gives you is brilliant and infectious. “Me too. So much,” she says quietly.

When brunch ends, Yoori suggests continuing your stroll so you can walk off the post-food sleepiness. The weather is a bit brisk and there are unanswered texts from Jungkook on your phone, but you don’t say no and keep the notifications unread. Something about the fact that you’re in the shopping district with a pretty manicure and your pretty friend makes you feel good. Good in a way that you haven’t felt in a really long time.

You link arms and window shop for hours, though it doesn’t feel like it. She pulls you into store after store because she saw something that she thought would look ‘splendid’ on you. Somehow you manage to look past her imploring eyes and put the designer garments back on the rack, but not until after she’s made you try them on and spin around in them so she can sing your praises. While you browse each shop, you make comments about the other shoppers or the items that make her dissolve into giggles or make her cheeks flare up with a warm blush and a gaping, incredulous smile. By the time you finally part ways, you almost don’t want to get into the cab she’s called for you, but your feet are aching and the sun is starting to set. She blows you a theatrical air kiss and makes a surprisingly dorky ‘call me’ gesture with her hand that has you covering your face so she can’t see how hard you’re smiling. When you step out to face Jungkook’s building, the mood of the day’s outing lingers on you like a perfume. Or maybe it’s a halo. Either way, Jungkook notices something about you is slightly different when you finally arrive at his doorstep.

“Hey,” you greet him without looking and instead focus on getting your feet out of the little heeled booties you’d been wearing for so long.

“You changed?” His voice is muffled from where he lays with his cheek smushed into the sofa. The xbox controller in his hand dangles as he takes in your appearance. “When did you do that?”

“I went back to my house after yoga. I couldn’t go meet her in a rank t-shirt and the sweats that I slept in.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you turn to see why he’s so silent. One look at the handful of empty beer bottles sitting neatly by the floor by his feet lets you know what the deal is.

“You been drinking, Jeon?” Jungkook when he’s drunk is quite the handful, but the owlish way he blinks at everything when there’s liquor in his system is almost funny enough to make the rest of his drunk antics worth it.

“Yep,” he hiccups. He tries to shoot finger guns at you but almost ends up flipping you the bird.

It draws a string of giggles out of you. He squints and takes in your frizz free hair, your glowy skin, your nice blouse and skirt, the easy way you walk over to the couch to sit by him. His stare is tangible.

“What?”

“You’re really pretty,” he rasps and his hand reaches out without his permission to trace the swell of your cheek.

His comment takes you by surprise and you can only laugh awkwardly and lean out of his reach, unsure of what to do with such a blatant compliment.

“Wow, I spend one afternoon with Yoori and you’re calling me pretty? She must have rubbed off on me real good.” You take the controller out of his hands to un-pause the game of Zelda he was playing.

“S’not cause of her. ‘S cause you’re not hiding,” he mumbles before picking up the other controller that was laying off to the side. His comment doesn’t reach your ears which he’s secretly glad for. “You want a beer?”

“Sure.”

He reaches over the arm of the couch to fish out one of the leftover full bottles and hands it to you. He doesn’t say anything while he watches you chug half of it, meanwhile nudging the inside of his cheek with his tongue. A classic sulking Jungkook pose.

“Oh my god, what? Are you mad I got to spend the day with her and you didn’t?”

He blinks, surprised, when he realizes that he’s actually not mad about that. Rather he’s mad you spent so little of the precious Saturday with him, though it wasn’t clear at first. To think that he’s jealous of Yoori is funny enough to break him of his brief pouting session.

“Yeah,” he fibs, “but it’s fine.” He scoots clumsily nearer next to you. “You’re here now and there’s still the rest of the weekend.”

“That’s true. But I don’t want to play Zelda. Let’s do Mario Kart?”

“Loser each round has to take a shot and winner picks the next course?” He’s already stumbling his way back to the kitchen to pull the tequila bottle someone left in his fridge a while back and a pair of plastic shot glasses.

“Is there any other way?”

It takes three rounds, the first two of which are Rainbow Road, but you quickly catch up to him in terms of tipsiness level. Your whole body feels like its vibrating, and the tequila makes it seem like your blood is carbonated. Like you could float away at any moment. By a streak of luck and then redirecting to Bowser’s castle, you manage to get in the winning position. You’re on a roll and get cocky enough to start gloating, egging Jungkook’s underlying competitive nature on.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath as you cross the finish line 9 seconds before him. His stomach feels sloshy after four shots and the bottles of beer he downed earlier. You slam down his, now full, shot glass in front of him, spilling some of the clear liquid onto the table.

“That’s like, what, your fourth one? No, wait, it’s your fifth one. My bad.” You stick out your tongue as you perch next to him, pressing yourself to his back and reveling in the way he grimaces at the shot. “If I had known you would make the game so easy, I would have stayed out with Yoori.”

You’re so busy teasing him about his slow gaming reflexes that you don’t notice the way his smile twitches after he downs the drink. He moves uncharacteristically fast and all you can do is sit there as he tosses the tiny plastic cup to side and then turns to lunge at you. Your back hits the couch cushion with a soft thud and your breath leaves you in a whoosh. If it had just been him caging you into the couch because he was fed up with your taunting, it would be fine. But the moment his fingertips dig into your sides, you lose it and start thrashing.

Jungkook knows better than anyone else that you’re a wild tickling victim, all flailing knees and elbows. Truly a danger to anyone who dares to tickle you. But he’s still smart despite being five tequila shots and a few beers in and uses his bulk against you to keep your movement to a minimum. Perhaps it’s a little cruel to take it out on you, but he still can’t get over the selfish simmering of regret at not suggesting you ditch Yoori in favor of letting him spend the day wrapped up in you. He missed you, is what it really boils down to.

“No,” you cackle underneath him, “No, please! Jungkook this isn’t fair. Please!”

He merely flashes you his teeth in a mean grin and continues until your eyes are shimmering with unshed tears and you’ve stopped squirming so you can keep your bladder in check.

“Jungkook, please,” you beg softly in surrender, toes curling.

Maybe it’s the angle. Maybe it’s the pleading voice you’re using, maybe it’s the sparkly quality of your eyes, or the fact that you smell like lavender. The color, not the flower, he notes. Whatever it is, his eyes fall closed automatically and he leans in to slot his mouth over yours. It’s a slow kiss and even though his tongue swipes across the seam of your lips, it has a chaste feeling still. You wriggle your arms out from under his weight and push him off you slowly. Thoughts of Yoori float around in the back of your mind and you can’t turn them away without feeling awful.

“We can’t get into anything today,” you snap and smooth out your skirt. “I got my period while I was out.” You wince when the lie comes out, but you don’t know if there’s any other way to put enough distance between you so you can keep your head straight.

He watches you look around until you spot your overnight bag at the end of the room. “Are you leaving?” His tone bleeds annoyance and takes on a sharp edge.

“Yeah,” you say like it’s obvious. Because it kind of is and the longer you stay, the weaker your resolve gets. “We can’t fool around if I’m on the rag.”

“Just because we can’t fool around, doesn’t mean I want you to leave.” He’s thinks for a second. “Do you want to leave?”

“Well, if we don’t fool around, I should probably go. Otherwise, why the hell am I here?”

His frustration flares up once more and you’re surprised that he’s as upset as he is. “Because I want you to be? And because maybe you want to be here too? Is that so weird? You said yourself this wasn’t anything to make a big deal of.”

“It’s not. But—”

“Then why the hell are you leaving?” He rakes both hands through his hair until he looks frazzled and barks out a sarcastic laugh. You’ve never seen him so angry with you before and strangely your first instinct is to get angrier.

“As opposed to sticking around? To do what?”

“I don’t know. Anything? We could play Mario Kart until our eyes bleed. You could let me practice kissing you and feeling you up all night. Or we could just be silent and drink until we both pass out. I really don’t care just…tell me what you want. Just stay if you want to stay.”

Your cheeks warm at his blunt words, but you put your bag down. He lets out a sigh of relief when you don’t charge out the front door, but he tenses up again when you head out the living room and only relaxes finally when he hears the shower start up. After nearly half an hour, you emerge looking squeaky clean and a little guilty in sweats. He’s not sure what the cause of the guilt is, but he tries not push. You shuffle over to stand in front of him, the sheepish curve of your shoulders making you look tiny.

You hesitate for a second before planting a knee on either side of his thighs and seating yourself in his lap. Your arms come to wrap around the breadth of his shoulders and you rest your cheek on top of his head.

“How was your day,” you mumble into the strands of his shiny chestnut hair.

He preens silently at the affection that he didn’t realize he’d been craving all day and his arms mirror yours. They come up to snake around your waist as he reclines a bit and shifts so he can relax into the couch without jostling you. Out of all of the things you’ve started physically doing with Jungkook, cuddling with him like this might be his favorite thing to do. There’s something incredibly satisfying about getting to bury himself in your scent and softness.

“Fine. Got my work done, skyped with RealiCorp. Met Tae for lunch. Tried to call you to see if you wanted to do dinner with us, but I guess you were busy. How was your time with Yoori?”

“It was,” you sigh, looking for the right word. “It was really fun. Honestly, its really nice to talk with another girl for a change. I’m glad we were able to.” He hums sympathetically and squeezes you a little tighter. “She’s really nice. You’ll be good together,” you admit.

He tenses a bit and changes the topic.

“I could fall asleep like this.” It’s the truth. The way your fingers run through his hair and the warmth of your breasts pillowing his head make him drowsy. Though he can’t focus on it as much as he’d like or else he’ll ruin the mood with an awkward boner.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, shifting so he can smile into your t-shirt.

“You’re so…” you can’t get the words out so instead you hastily smack a loud kiss onto his cheek.

It shocks both of you, but he doesn’t look put off. Instead, he merely adjusts his glasses, which you jostled with the force of your kiss. The gesture is so characteristically him that the floodgates open and you keep planting kisses on his face until he laughs and starts trying to catch your mouth with his own. He manages one or two cheeky kisses on your lips, but you swerve around enough to keep things PG. He huffs and keeps trying, one of his hands coming up to grab at your arm and keep you still. He leans forward, forcing you to lean back in his lap until you can’t anymore without risk of falling. When you clutch at his shoulders to maintain your balance, you’re right where he wants you.

Your eyes are squeezed shut as he brushes his nose against yours. It’s cute, he thinks. By now he knows in theory how you feel about period sex, but where’s the harm in kissing?

“Why are you being so shy? I just wanna kiss you,” he scoffs while attempting to nip at your bottom lip.

“Just kissing?” You open your eyes cautiously, lids at half-mast. He nods hurriedly, fingers drumming an impatient beat on the small of your back.

“O-Okay.” You barely get the word out before he’s swooping in with a low contented sound.

Making out just for the sake of making out reminds you of your time with your first boyfriend, the summer before college started. Only this is so much better because it’s Jungkook and because there’s no race to sex like there was when you were 18. Every press of lips is a deliberate choice and when you finally come up for air, somehow, you’re horizontal and are regretting the lie you told terribly.

He pulls away with a kiss-swollen pout and checks the time. When it’s an appropriate hour for bed and he suggests you both retire to the bedroom to watch TV before bed. You’re a little wary at first, but he’s a gentleman and doesn’t do anything untoward. He even lets you take control of his laptop and the HDMI cord while he writes continuously in his journal. You try to peer over at what he’s writing once you recognize it as his sex journal, but he pins you with such an offended look that you can only turn around feeling properly scolded without having actually been verbally addressed. You don’t think too much of the fact that he’s writing in it despite the fact that you haven’t done much in the amorous realm and he wrote on and off the entire day yesterday.

Even after you’ve watched three episodes of Elementary, he’s still writing. You unplug the computer and turn to look at him in his pretzel legged position. Every so often he’ll look over at you and then return to frantically writing in his journal. You try to engage him in an unspoken staring contest, but your eyelids drop closed and prevent you from winning. Only once it becomes clear that you’re trying to sleep does he wedge his journal underneath his half of the mattress and turn off the lights.

Passing through the weekend and into the next week doesn’t suddenly bring things back to normal. Instead it feels as though you’ve entered the twilight zone.

You and Yoori text on and off all of Sunday and into Monday to compare schedules and see when you can meet up for some quality girl time. This means that Yoori has started to come meet you outside your lecture halls when your classes end to walk to the library together and you arrive at your agreed meeting spots with her preferred coffee order. Your nails are holding up amazingly and you tell her so constantly while she smiles at how excited you are at something she often takes for granted.

Yoori suggested you have your your study sessions in the corner of the library coffee shop because the picture window shows all the light snow you’ve been getting and provides a nice form of visual ambiance to work to. Sometimes the guys attempt to crash the sessions. Often times you have to shoo them away by letting them take your ID card to stock up on hot chocolates with extra whip from the front counter. Your funds are depleting at an alarming rate, but it’s better to have the uninterrupted time with your first girl friend in a long time so you can get to know her better.

“So, are you going home during winter break,” you ask one day while typing away at the results section of a lab report. Yoori sits across from you in an oversized cashmere sweater you wish you could pull of half as well as she does. She’s been working silently for nearly an hour and you know she won’t take a break unless you distract her from the work.

At the sound of your voice, her head pops up instantly, her loose bun spilling out of its structure with the movement and cascading down her back. A freshman walking by the table nearly slams into a door trying to keep looking back at the same time. She closes her laptop, completely unaware of her effect on the people in the surrounding area.

“Yeah, I am. I haven’t in the past few years but my grandparents are coming from the countryside, so I should probably go this time.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you. I’m sure they’d all like to see you.”

“Are you going?”

“No,” you give a bittersweet smile as you play with the damp stirring stick next to your drink. “My family lives too far away for me to be able to go home and make the plane ride worth it. I’ll probably see them in the summer, though.”

“Won’t you be lonely? Do you want to come home with me?” Her brow furrows in sympathy and she reaches out to rub at your arm.

“No, that’s okay, I’ll be fine. It’s not my first rodeo, you know. Plus usually some, if not all, of the guys stick around since they live nearby but still want a break from their families during the day. But thank you though.”

“Okay, well there’s still time if you want to change your mind.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Are you almost done?”

“Almost. I’m waiting on my VASP energies to come in and then I can update my poster and I’ll be all set.”

“VASP? Since when do you do chemistry,” you get up to peer at her computer screen.

Yoori pats the open seat next to her and let her explain the very quick favor she’s doing with a professor she’s been in contact with since undergrad when she thought she would be pre-health.

“—So basically, now she’s just waiting to evaluate grain boundary energies to see if the electrolytes we’re using actually have the right structure to make a difference in hydrogen atom velocities. And I’m just here to help with some minor calculations.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

A small ping from your phone alerts you of an incoming text from ~JK~.

Is Yoori with you?

“Um, I think Jungkook is trying to reach you.”

“Oh! I keep my phone on silent during the day,” she explains and hurriedly switches on the volume before opening whatever texts he must have sent her before he texted you.

“Really?”

“I have yours set on urgent, though.”

You grin. “And why’s that?”

“Because! What if you send me another meme about neural networks? I can’t just let it rot away in my inbox.”

“No one appreciates my memes like you do.”

“Aren’t I great?”

“So great,” you admit with clenched eyes and fists for dramatic feeling.

“I wish I didn’t have to go. I’m enjoying you complimenting me.”

“Oh. Are you headed somewhere?”

“Unfortunately, yes. The energy files just arrived and I’m about to finish entering them. I think Jungkook wants to meet up to discuss things, so I’m just going to pack up now and meet him at the dining commons before the dinner rush kicks in. I’ll text you later.”

“Okay, sure.”

After Yoori packs up to leave, you consider texting Jungkook to ask what he plans on discussing with her, but it feels so clingy and invasive that you’re ashamed of yourself and force yourself to dive into work. The lab report is nearly done, but there are a few articles you could read to get further ahead in your classes. It takes a long while, and you work through the usual dinner time to do it, but you manage to finish thanks to having turned your phone off as soon as Yoori left.

When you turn it back on there are a few recent messages from Taehyung and Hoseok inquiring about late night munchies plans. You figure eating with them is better than eating soup alone in the middle of the nearby convenience store. And better than ignoring the messages in favor of going home early to have pity sleep for dinner. You text them back saying that you’ll meet them in 10 and pack your things up.

You arrive at the smoothie place feeling haggard and not ready to balance Taehyung’s energy and Hoseok’s chaotic existence. The bright side is that there is a medium chocolate shake sitting in the empty seat at the tiny high table they’ve managed to save. You greet them with a tired smile and immediately suck down the drink, reveling in the way the chocolate is already lifting your spirits a bit.

“You look like shit,” Hoseok greets you. Taehyung slaps his arm, but turns to you with concerned eyes.

“Are you sleeping?”

“Why are you guys acting like you don’t see me passed out throughout random parts of the day 80% of the time?”

“Because you don’t look like you do,” Hoseok quips. At your blank stare, he goes back to innocently sipping his guava juice. “Just looking out for you, buddy.”

“Yeah, well I slept all of this weekend, thank you very much. What about you guys? You get up to trouble at the Dairy Queen again? Is that why we’re here this time?”

Tae nods somberly. “Hobi put lit firecrackers in their dumpsters again. But this time he almost caused their elderly delivery guy to go into cardiac arrest.”

“Something is wrong with you.” Hoseok merely winks at you in response.

“The worst part is that I didn’t even have anything to do with it, but they still wouldn’t let me in, even when it was just me and Kook,” Taehyung whines.

Hoseok snorts. “Ok, that’s on you. You were my accomplice even though you technically didn’t touch the fireworks but people remember your face better than they do mine. Should have waited at least a week before trying to go back in there.”

“Wait, this was all in one weekend?”

“Yeah,” Tae reaches over and dips a fry into your cup. “The fireworks were Friday, after game night. And then we tried to go in on Saturday, but they wouldn’t let us in. We tried calling you and everything.”

“You’re mad at me now? It’s not like I could have helped you.”

“Yeah, you could have,” Hoseok corrects, gesturing to your general chest area. “You’ve got the tits for that sort of thing.”

“Why are we friends,” you ask him with a soulless smile.

“Because you won’t let me motorboat you.” His response is immediate and just as dry. It spooks you a little.

“Well, I’m gonna go. I would say it’s been fun, but it hasn’t.”

“Wait!” Taehyung scrambles out of his chair and helps you back into yours. “You can’t leave. Jungkook might be done soon and said he’ll try and meet up with us. It’ll be the first time we’ve all been out together in such a long time.”

“We literally saw her on Friday,” Hoseok groans and tosses his head back in what looks like a mini tantrum. You roll your eyes.

“That was at Kook’s house, that’s not ‘out’. It doesn’t count.” Taehyung turns to plead with you, eyes big and starry, with a comical pout on his face. “Please stay? For me? Ignore him. I do.”

“Hey!”

“Fine,” you sigh before shaking your empty cup. “But I need another one of these. And Hobi is buying.”

“Like hell I am.”

“Do I have to remind you that if it weren’t for you and your whipped cream fixation, I wouldn’t be in the red for dining dollars and I might be able to afford my own drinks from time to time? You owe me, Jung.” You try to poke his sternum menacingly, but he moves to snap his teeth at your finger and you quickly pull back with a shriek. He agrees, though its reluctantly at best.

While Hoseok waits in the line to order your refill, Taehyung scoots his chair closer to yours. Carefully, he attempts conversation.

“How are you holding up?”

“With what, work? It’s the same as always. Tedious.”

“No, I mean with…Did Kook not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“That he planned to officially ask Yoori out tonight,” his voice is quiet and uncertain.

“Oh. No, he didn’t tell me. But, it’s not like its our right to know. He’s an adult. H-how did you find out, though?”

“He told me.”

“And me,” Hoseok says as he sets down the second milkshake in front of you.

“I see.”

You start drinking on autopilot, too busy thinking about why Jungkook wouldn’t tell you such big news despite your being his best friend. You figure maybe he found out about your big fat crush on him and decided he’d rather tiptoe around you than have to let you down gently. Or maybe he just didn’t care enough about you enough to tell you these things now that Yoori was in the picture. What’s good is that the latter thought doesn’t make any resentment towards Yoori rise in your stomach. Instead you just want to curl up in a ball and wonder you did in your past life to deserve such a horrendous love life. Or, you suppose, lack thereof.

“He just shared his location. I think he’s on the way,” Taehyung tentatively disrupts you from zoning out any further.

If you hurried, you could probably take the campus shuttle home and be on your way home before Jungkook arrives, but part of you wants to see how he’ll explain his decision to you. You decide to stay because you don’t want to be anything less than supportive of his new relationship though it’s kind of crushing you in the process.

“Tell him to hurry up, then. You know what happens when I drink cold things,” your voice is light and a little bouncier than is appropriate and you know Taehyung knows what’s going on in your head. But Hoseok doesn’t and you don’t want him to.

Jungkook arrives 10 minutes later with Yoori in tow. She looks sheepish until she sees you sitting at the table and her dimples make an appearance. She runs ahead of Jungkook to envelope you in a hug. You’re still working on the physical boundaries of your friendship given that you’re not a huge fan of suffocation. Still, you pat her arm and let her get her fill before pulling back and offering up half of your chair. She gratefully accepts it and links arms with you immediately after settling down. Everyone scoots closer to open up more space and Jungkook pulls up a seat as well.

“It’s good to see you both, again,” Yoori chirps politely. Hoseok melts at the sound of her voice and beams at her. It’s gross.

“We’re good. It’s nice to see you so often now.” Taehyung chances a look at you. The initial shock of watching you and Yoori become fast friends apparently still hasn’t worn off. You don’t blame him but he’s so obvious about it.

“It is, isn’t it? You guys are just so fun to be around.”

“We like hanging out with you too, Yoori.” Hoseok’s voice climbs almost half an octave trying to sound so abnormally accommodating. Everyone else tries to contain their laughter. “You know, you still haven’t come visit me at the dance studio. I’m starting to get hurt feelings.”

“W-well, it’s just that I’ve been so busy and I still haven’t figured out a gap in my schedule when I can properly come see you. I’m very sorry,” she squeezes your arm unconsciously as she bows her head a little to him in apology. Your pulse picks up sympathetically for her.

“Hobi, if she wanted to see you do sweaty body rolls in an empty room, don’t you think she would have done it already?” When his smile twitches at your comment you add a quick, “I’m only trying to be realistic. I’m looking out for you, buddy.”

Yoori hisses your name in your ear, but you can tell that she’s trying not to smile at your sharp wit from her tone of voice.

“Anyway,” Hoseok starts up again, “Yoori, don’t you and Jungkookie have some good news to tell us all?”

Yoori’s cheeks redden at the sudden shift in topic and she looks to Jungkook for help. His face is similarly pink with embarrassment, but he still clears his throat like he’s about to make a toast.

“It’s not a big deal. I just wanted to say that I can’t do game night this Friday since I’ll be having dinner with Yoori in town.”

“You’re all welcome to join us, if you like,” she quickly amends. Your eyes widen and you swoop in to help Jungkook save face. You know it probably took him a lot to muster the courage to ask her out in the first place and if you don’t do anything, you know Hoseok will gladly wriggle his way in and ruin the date.

“Oh, we couldn’t possibly intrude on your dinner. But, thank you, for the offer. Right Tae? Right, Hobi?” Hoseok sulks but wordlessly agrees to stay out of their date.

“Yeah,” Taehyung jumps in to help you. “We’ll just have the game night at my place. I want to play cards anyway, instead of console games this time around.”

Everyone nods until the awkward air dissipates and all that’s left is the background noise of the diner and the sound of people finishing their drinks. The cold from your shakes starts to seep into your bones and you decide to use this as your exit ticket.

“Hey, sorry to ruin the fun, but I’m freezing and I didn’t bring a real jacket, so I think I’m gonna head home. You guys have fun without me, though.”

“You can just wear my sweater,” Jungkook pipes up and begins to pull the thick, woolen pullover he was wearing over his head. But you hold your hand up to stop him as you get down from your stool and collect your trash.

“No, Kook, you’re fine. I’m just gonna use the cold as motivation to get to the bus quicker. Have a good night, everyone.”

“It’s colder out there. At least take his sweater,” Yoori calls out to you. “For me,” she adds when you look like you’re thinking about it.

“Fine,” you huff as you take the sweater from Jungkook. You slide it on in front of everyone so they can have their worries assuaged. It’s still toasty from his leftover body heat and smells like his laundry detergent. He might not get it back for a while. “See? I’ll definitely be fine now.”

“Why don’t I go with you? I’ve still got a robotics assignment I have to work on. Plus, we can split cab fare instead of waiting for the bus.” Tae shrugs on his own coat and goes to stand by you.

“Okay.” You ignore his probing look until you finish waving to everyone and leave the restaurant.

Taehyung shoves his hands in his pockets as you request a ride home through an app on your phone. The silence is companionable, but the waves of pity and sympathy rolling off Taehyung are damn near palpable and you’re about to burst if you don’t address it.

“Just say what you’re thinking. I can practically hear it anyway.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m not 12. I’m not going to be devastated just because they’re going out on one date.”

“Yeah, but,” Taehyung hesitates for a bit, trying to cushion the blow, “You know it’s just a matter of time before they become official, right?”

“I know that too,” you wince when your voice cracks a little.

“If you ever need anything, you know we’re here for you.” You raise an incredulous eyebrow at the implication that Hosoek would do anything less than laugh in your face if you came to him looking for comfort. “Well, I am, at least.”

“I know, Tae. Thank you.” You let him wrap you in a one-armed hug, but don’t let him pull away so you can steal his warmth as you wait for your car to arrive.

Yoori’s apartment is nicer than anything you’ve ever seen. So much so that you have a hard time believing that you even live in the same town. It’s technically not your first time visiting her building and you’ve called many a late night cab from her plush lobby. You’ve even started to make small talk with her doorman since you’re there so often. But something was keeping you from coming up and visiting her actual apartment. All the times you’d hung out off campus had been at your place or at Jungkook’s place. There had been a lull in all that since Jungkook announced that they’d be going on a date only a few days prior.

After that fateful day, it was hard to act like there hadn’t been subtle changes in the way people were acting. Jungkook was suddenly super busy or always at the gym and couldn’t ever pick up your calls. And when he did return them it was only when you were dead asleep and couldn’t pick up your phone. For that, you were actually kind of grateful because you were certain that the next time you saw him on your own, he would try to break it to you that he couldn’t return your affections and that you could no longer be friends.

Taehyung and Hoseok, on the other hand, were still somewhat normal, but Hoseok was too excited about Yoori’s unofficial entry into the friend group and Taehyung kept soft-touching you like he could take up your pain through osmosis. Yoori was the only one who hadn’t suddenly turned weird and it was only because she wasn’t aware of the chaos floating around you all.

When she’d asked you to come shopping with her on the high street, you had a hunch that it was so she could get some new outfits for the many date nights with Jungkook ahead. You didn’t expect her to try and rope you into buying things as well, though you managed to get out it by truthfully explaining to her that Taehyung and Hoseok were still using your student ID like it was a credit card in someone else’s name and you had to be frugal as a result. But just when you thought you were in the clear as you approached her building, she invited you up to help her style the stuff she bought and stick around for dinner. To keep from having to explain yourself, you said yes.

But you instantly regretted it as you stood in the middle of her chicly decorated bedroom with picture windows and realized that despite the fact that you were extremely fond of Yoori, there was still a very small part of you that wished you had her life. It felt juvenile and reminded you that even after you stopped being a teenager you still had a ton of self-esteem issues left to address. The sooner you finished helping her with her outfits, the sooner you could maybe curl up on her couch and down the bottle of wine you bought while you were shopping earlier.

“I don’t think I like this one as much now that we’re not in the store anymore.” Yoori frowns at her reflection from inside the walk-in closet. The fact that she had a walk-in closet did not surprise you, but your mouth still dropped open when you the little seating area and the full-length panel of mirrors inside of it.

You finish picking out an alternative and then call out to her. “Come out and let me see it?”

She emerges in a short and slinky dress that would be perfect if it weren’t for the way it slouched at the neckline. It seemed intentional in the store with the way the salesman was pushing hard for her to buy it, but now it looked oddly frumpy.

“I think I see what you mean. Turn?” She obeys and turns gracefully, the skirt flaring out around her hips. “Why don’t you try these? They’d look amazing with that red blouse you wore when we went to the movies that one time.” You hand her some satiny trousers that she picked up on a whim but ended up really liking. If she paired them with red, Jungkook’s favorite color, he’d eat his heart out.

“You’re right, I think this is the one,” Yoori smiles widely at you and comes out with two pairs of shoes in her hand. Silently you point to the pair that would go better with the outfit, the ones with a subtle gold traces etched into the stiletto heel.

“If you want, you can wear your hair in a ponytail. Show off your neck, he’ll like it.”

“Really?” She laughs, slightly bashful. “Is he a neck guy?”

“For you? He’s a neck guy, hand guy, lips guy, ass guy. You name it.” As soon as Yoori hangs up her outfit for the date and puts it on her closet door, you flop face first into her bed, exhausted in so many ways.

“Why do you know so much about his, um, preferences? Is he vocal about that sort of thing?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” your voice is muffled by her bedspread.

“And are you not vocal about that sort of thing, then?”

Luckily she can’t see your face as you roll the question around in your head. You’re no prude and if it weren’t for the unfortunate series of events that is your life, you would love nothing more than to swap sex stories with Yoori as a form of bonding. But given that you can’t and you don’t really want to end up having to listen to her talk about sex with him when it comes, you decide one more white lie won’t hurt.

“I’m just a really private person, so I don’t really do that.”

“Good to know,” she chuckles and you miss the disappointed look on her face when she realizes she won’t be able to share with you. Although, it would make sense that you wouldn’t want to hear her talk about your childhood best friend like that. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Sleep.”

“Are you tired? How about we take a rain check and think about it again in a few hours? I’m gonna go come up with some slides for my coding class, but you’re welcome to nap in here and I’ll wake you up before it gets too late.”

“That…sounds great. Thanks, Yoori.”

“No problem.”

You wait until she closes her bedroom door and you’re certain you’re alone. When the sound of the soft music that she plays when she works drifts through the speakers in her living room, you crawl up to the head of the bed, get under the covers, and cry into the pillow. The sleep that follows is amazing though and you think it’s half because your body was running on fumes and half because Yoori has the best mattress you’ve ever slept on.

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