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#like I don’t even intend to buy or checkout anything I just want to be there
venowyn · 1 year
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I’ve been on tour for over six years now and these are some packing and travel hacks I have discovered along the way that I wish I had known before!
1. LIQUIDS ARE THE ENEMY. Anything in liquid form is heavy, takes up tons of room in your luggage (even if it’s only half full), and it can and will leak in your suitcase! Being on the road full-time means you need full size things since a travel bottle of shampoo only lasts a few days. Therefore, anything you can get in solid form instead of liquid is good:
Bar soap
Bar shampoo
Laundry pods
Some liquids are unavoidable (contact lens solution, mouthwash, etc). For these I present the humble e-tape. Throw a few wraps of electrical tape around the cap of your liquids to help prevent leaks. Not 100% leakproof but better than nothing.
2. EMBRACE THE PACKING CUBE.
Seriously go buy a set right now. When I check into a hotel room, I give the drawers a quick wipe down. Then, I simply remove all of my packing cubes from my suitcase, put them in the drawers, unzip the tops, and voilà! A perfectly organized sock and underwear drawer in your hotel without ever having to refold or organize.
3. A digital luggage scale. Just get one.
4. Shower slides/flip-flops. Listen I’ve seen some gross stuff get left behind by hotel cleaning staff. Trust me when I say these rooms are not as clean as you’d like to think they are. Just wear the flip-flops ok? Also comes in handy if you have to shower at a theatre bathroom after load out.
5. This one is very first-world problem and totally unnecessary but I finally caved recently and bought myself an AppleTV. Logging into every app on every smart TV gets old after a while. When hotels are your home, being able to have all of your entertainment ready to go with a simple plug of an hdmi cable is more comforting than I would have thought. I appreciated it even more when I was quarantining in a hotel room with Covid. Pack an ethernet cable in case there is a way to hardwire your internet for that good high speed shit.
6. If your hotel room has that weird, mildewy, musty smell get a desiccant pack and hang it up. It will remove a shocking amount of moisture from the air.
7. Take pictures of your passport, ID, credit cards, union cards, etc. This is for any travel anywhere really.
8. Don’t stress about forgetting things! Besides your wallet, phone, and keys, at the end of the day everything you need is easily bought in the next stop. Obviously it’s not ideal to forget your things everywhere but it’s going to happen. You will forget your phone charger. You will forget to clean out that bottom drawer in the hotel one time. Yes it sucks, yes it’s a waste of money, but try not to beat yourself up too hard.
9. For the love of god turn off one-click checkout.
10. Don’t pack those cute shoes for opening night parties. You know you’re just going to show up in your disgusting show blacks like god intended stagehands to do. Shoes take up so much room in luggage I hate it.
11. Hotel coffee makers can sometimes produce the most horrific tasting coffee you’ve ever encountered in your life. After suffering for a year or two, I invested in a coffee setup. I travel a collapsible electric kettle, a pour over funnel, filters, and coffee grounds. I know lots of roadies swear by travel french presses. Obviously this is by no means necessary or even very prudent. But if you identify something about traveling that consistently bums you out- get creative and find a solution! Some people travel their own pillow, an Instant Pot, or air filter. It’s all about finding that creature comfort that makes schlepping it around the country worth it for you.
12. Sneaker balls. No one wants to pull a pair of sneakers out of their suitcase after a few days of festering in their own shoe smell.
13. Yes, you can change the air filter in a hotel room heating unit in many cases.
14. Get your Covid boosters as soon as you are eligible.
Ps none of these links are amazon links.
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ghostystudies · 3 years
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I’ve been saying I’ll go to the bookstore or the library for like a month now. I’m vaccinated. I wear a mask. I drive. There’s nothing stopping me except for the fact that I’ve only ever left the house alone to go to school.
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byunbaekby · 4 years
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Home (l.jn)
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Pairing: Reader x Jeno Warnings: Language, loss of virginity, safe sex, alcohol use Summary: The story of your first love, which never truly ends for anyone. Luckily for you, Lee Jeno was the perfect first boyfriend. The struggle for you is trying to be perfect for him. Words: 11.6k
-
You had a thing for perfection. 
It was something that had been ingrained into you from the moment you were born, to an entrepreneur mother and a father who was a cardiac surgeon. As soon as you could walk, you were placed in dance classes and trained from that moment on. You had practically tried every playable club sport in Korea. In addition to these demanding extracurriculars, your parents also expected school to remain your top priority. 
It was a tiring life, trying to be perfect. But even so, even you yourself had learned to never settle for anything less than. 
The way you meet Lee Jeno is perfect. 
It was a rare weekend off for you, without swim practice or dance rehearsal to attend or an upcoming test to study for. You wanted to do something, free from the restraints and stresses of your overworked life—rarely were you ever able to simply let loose and enjoy the short vacation from school allotted by the weekend.
That is how you find yourself walking arm in arm with your best friend Heejin down the trails of the town’s harvest festival, an annual weekend-long celebration to welcome the oncoming Halloween holiday. There were booths manned by the local businesses, contests with sizable prizes, and games for the children to partake in. 
As you tread down the pathway with your best friend in tow, you close your eyes and take a slight whiff, relishing in the smell of nature and the breeze against your shoulders. One could never appreciate the idyllic simplicity of life until they were too busy to even breathe. “You really should get out more, babe. I feel like we haven’t hung out in forever,” you hear your best friend saying, her attention turned to the nearby booth selling churros. 
“You say that like it’s a choice, Heej.” You retort quickly, a simpering smile at your lips despite the fact that you know it actually is: it is simply you who overloads yourself with work. 
“No, it’s not, not with you and your busybody ways,” she replies with a laugh, tugging you along. “I just.. miss my best friend sometimes.” 
You sigh, a sharp juxtaposition to the festive mood of your surrounding environment. “I know. I miss you too, Heej. But.. we’re here, right? Let’s enjoy our time together!” Your response brings a grin over your best friend’s lips and immediately she nods, glad to have you back. 
The two of you spend the next hour filling your stomachs with sugary treats and playing games intended for children age ten and below. The hour is filled with laughs and grateful glances at your best friend, having been too long since the first time in a long time that you had experienced such carefree joy. 
You’re once again sauntering through the pathways of the festival when you hear Heejin’s whispered voice in your ear: “Dude, hottie at three’o’clock in the pumpkin patch. Look at him!”
Your best friend had always been a bit boy-crazy. So, you laugh and turn your attention in that direction, your grin dissipating as your gaze falls upon likely the most attractive male you’ve ever seen. 
You catch him mid-laugh, so his smile is the first blessing you witness. Teeth bared in a wide smile, his eyesmile is enough to make you melt, and you feel an overwhelming desire to match his smile. Once you get over your initial shock at the beauty of his smile, you’re able to take in the remainder of his appearance. His hair is dark, shaggy as it falls over his eyes slightly. He has a lanky build, though you can see the slight outline of muscled arms beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt. Said t-shirt is bright orange, a typically unsightly color, and from your distance you can make out the words. 
Oh, you realize. He’s a part of your town’s youth committee, dedicated to community service and other activities. This makes sense now, as you observe the way he smiles brightly while he helps a little girl pick out a pumpkin. He’s volunteering, you realize.
Your heart swells a bit, and you curse inwardly; it’s already happening. 
Before you can register it, Heejin is already tugging you by the arm to the enclosed area, where families can buy pumpkins to make their own homemade jack-o-lanterns. “What are you doing?” You whisper to her in surprise as she pulls you to look at one of the many piles of pumpkins.
“Nothing,” she responds with a knowing smile, feigning interest in the pile of orange squash. “Just getting a closer look.” Not so discreetly, she lifts her head and looks over her shoulder to where Pumpkin Boy is helping the little girl and her family check out, a hefty pumpkin on the father’s shoulders. 
“This is a bit too close… too obvious,” you tell her cautiously as she turns back to stare at the pumpkins of animated interest. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in boys; you rarely had time for them, so much that your past flings were barely significant at all before you were forced to break up with them for the sake of your schedule. Now, having just turned seventeen, you had never had a serious boyfriend. If anything, you were wary of boys. Especially handsome ones like him, with a smile to melt a heart. 
“Okay, but would you look at him? Why can’t the guys at our school look like that?” She whines, already turning back to steal another look. “Oh- he’s gone.” Her voice is confused, and dejected. With curious eyes betraying you, you follow her line of sight to find that he has, indeed, disappeared from the table he previously occupied. 
“Can I help you ladies?”
The sudden deep voice takes you by surprise, and the two of you yelp as you jump in surprise, turning back to find none other than Pumpkin Boy himself, a friendly smile on his face. “Sorry,” he says, a deep chuckle leaving his throat next. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Were you girls looking for pumpkins?” 
For a moment neither of you say anything, until Heejin clears her throat and nods while trying to hide the unsettlement in her voice. “Uh, yeah, we were.. Recommendations?”
“Depends what you’re looking for,” he leans down to roll over a pumpkin, moving it into place from where it had fallen out from its display. “Small or big?”
“Small,” is her immediate reply. A small pumpkin would definitely be cheaper, and as he leans down to search for a fitting pumpkin you slap your best friend’s arm, confusion in your eyes. Was she seriously going to put down actual money just to talk to a cute boy? She was unbelievable, but that was why you loved her: where you were quiet and studious, Heejin was always upbeat and bold, something you wished more of for yourself. 
Pumpkin Boy soon stands straight again, and hands a small hand-sized pumpkin over to your friend with a thoughtful gaze, as though he truly cared about the state of the pumpkins he was selling. “What do you think about this one?” Without any disagreement she takes the pumpkin from his hands, already nodding. 
“Exactly what I was looking for!” She responds, causing you to roll your eyes in amusement. 
Though you thought he hadn’t noticed you, Pumpkin Boy turns to you. “And for you, beautiful? A small one too?”
His direct statement catches you off guard, and you swear your eyes widen as the air leaves your lungs. Did he just.. call you beautiful? You can almost feel Heejin’s excitement from beside you. Clearing your throat to mask your shock, you nod before replying with a small voice. “S-Sure.”
Immediately he is down again, searching for another small, hand-sized pumpkin to suit you. When he crouches to do his job, Heejin turns to you with her mouth open and her eyes full of elation, as though to say “He just called you beautiful!” You can practically hear it in her voice. 
He stands again, hands sporting yet another pumpkin, similar to the one Heejin currently nests in her hands. “What do you think?”
The sincerity with which he gazes at you causes you to nod. “Perfect.”
“Great!” He responds, starting to walk to the tables where you can pay for your items, your pumpkin still resting in his large hands. Though it cannot weigh more than five pounds alone, your best friend looks to you with an overjoyed look at the fact that he is carrying your pumpkin for you. “I’ll help you two ladies out at checkout then.”
You follow him to the checkout area, where he places your pumpkin on the table that he stands behind. He reads out your prices to you, and Heejin pulls out her wallet to pay first while you observe his side profile. From all angles, he is undeniably handsome. 
Then he looks to you, pulling you from your nervous stupor. With quick hands you pull out a paper bill from your wallet and hand it to him, which he accepts with a polite smile. 
“You’re all settled,” he tells the two of you, though he hands each of you a business card over the table, one in each hand. “I’m a part of the youth committee,” he explains as you each take the business cards from him. “We’re all in high school, and we’d love to have more members.”
With another heart-stopping smile, he thanks you for your purchase and bids you two goodbye. As the two of you exit the area with your pumpkins in hand (easily handled in only one hand), you bid a silent farewell to him, the handsome boy who you’ll likely never see again. If only, you wish, you were a bit more bold and unafraid. 
Goodbye Pumpkin Boy, you think to yourself as you look over the business card in hand. Your eyes bulge at the sight as you flip over the card to the blank side: Lee Jeno :) XXX-XXX-XXXX
You can barely keep the grin off your face as Heejin nearly drops her pumpkin, screaming in joy for you. 
-
Once you arrive home, you text him with Heejin’s encouragement. 
She complains half-heartedly that you don’t seem to be nearly as excited as she is, though she congrats you with an amused smile. In fact, your excitement is greatly hidden: you had never been the friend, between the two of you, to get boys’ numbers. Now that you have, a strange feeling of happiness makes its way into your chest. 
After Heejin leaves, you text him. New pet pumpkin tucked on the windowsill of your bedroom, you type his number into your phone meticulously, and send the first nervous text.
To: XXX-XXX-XXXX Hi, is this.. Jeno? I’m the girl from the festival.
You frown at the message. It is so bland, so uninteresting. Why had he been interested in you? You’re surprised, however, when your phone beeps only a minute later. 
From: XXX-XXX-XXXX Hey. Yeah, it’s Jeno :)
From: XXX-XXX-XXXX Did you make it home safe?
A smile bites at your lips as you quickly type a response. 
To: XXX-XXX-XXXX I did. Did you finish volunteering?
His reply is just as fast as yours, if not faster.
From: XXX-XXX-XXX Yup, we just finished putting all the pumpkins away. Heavy, those things.
You chuckle, sparing a glance to the pumpkin on your windowsill. 
To: XXX-XXX-XXXX Well thank you for your hard work. I’ll appreciate my pumpkin very much. 
From: XXX-XXX-XXXX I hope you do. 
From: XXX-XXX-XXX Listen, I’ve got to go but I’d love to talk to you some more. I’m glad you came to the patch today. 
Your mind runs over to earlier this morning, when you had greatly battled Heejin’s decision to take you to the harvest festival on your day off. Surely, you should learn to trust your best friend’s intuition more often. 
To: XXX-XXX-XXX Me too. I’ll talk to you later.
From: XXX-XXX-XXX Bye :)
You lean back in your bed to suppress the shy, overjoyed shrieks that threaten to leave your mouth and despite knowing full and well that his name is Jeno, you save his number under the name Pumpkin Boy. 
-
Over the next few weeks, you indeed learn that Lee Jeno is just as kind as his first impression.
You learn that his birthday is in late April, a few months preceding yours. Somehow he lets it slip that he too, has never been in a serious relationship. Through a thorough game of twenty questions over the phone you learn that he plays volleyball at his high school as the libero, drives a car older than him, and dislikes mint chocolate chip ice cream.
The ice cream part is enough to cause your mint-loving self to make a face, but not enough to stop your feelings from growing rapidly. 
It is the first time that you have freely conversed with someone besides Heejin without inhibitions or worries. Talking to Jeno comes so easily, no second thoughts. 
Though he attends a different high school than you, this doesn’t seem to hinder your conversations, and you find yourself always wanting to talk to him. He texts you good morning, and you respond. You text throughout the day between classes, and he sends you one last smile-inducing message before going into volleyball practice. You take this time to study, so that you can be free when he comes out. On days that you have rehearsal, you’re lucky that these after school practices for your dance team occur at virtually the same time as his volleyball practices. 
Since your meeting you’ve met only a handful of times. You went out once, to get ice cream (which was how you came to learn of his abominable opinions about your favorite flavor). The next, he invited you to watch him play a match at his school. You had been amazed then, at how this soft kind boy turned into a focused monster on the volleyball court. Then, you had met him for lunch, while telling your parents that you were meeting up with Heejin to study. 
You share your first kiss when he comes to play a volleyball game at your school. 
It is after the game has finished with your school facing an embarrassing defeat, and Jeno is walking with you down the open breezeways, that he kisses you. 
He presses his lips to yours softly, but not without asking for permission, at which your heart warms. Dropping his volleyball bag to the floor without second thoughts, he tilts your face slightly upward by the chin, meets your lips, and you swear your world stops. 
You’ve been kissed before, but never like this. It’s overwhelmingly, in every sense of the word, perfect.
Though he pulls away after a moment, you smile with only an inch between your lips, and pull him back to you. In that moment you feel an overwhelming joy down to your bones, and a strange power at your ability to initiate your second kiss. You feel weightless, yet there is an undeniable force tethering you down. It is Jeno, himself.
You realize then, this is what first kisses are supposed to feel like. 
When you finally pull away to gasp for air, you register his laughing and a quiet “Wow.”
When he walks you off campus and out to your campus, he intertwines your fingers together. Your hands slip effortlessly into each other, curling naturally as though they were made for each other. 
-
Three months have passed since you met when you’re laying in bed with only your bedside lamp on, hands hidden in your sweater as you FaceTime Jeno. 
On the other end, he is wearing a hoodie and grey sweatpants, placing you on his nightstand as he gazes at you from his bed.  He props his head up with his elbow, and smiles at you as you go on and on about your day. He peers at you with full interest from over his glasses, which you’ve seen him wear only a number of times. 
It’s a Sunday night, nearing 11PM, but you don’t tell Jeno that you have a calculus test you’re supposed to be studying for. For all your parents know, that’s precisely what you’re doing in your room right now. But it’s not. Rather, you’re enjoying yourself with a bright laugh as you listen to Jeno retell a joke that his friend Jaemin had made earlier in the day. 
“It was a lame joke,” you tell him once he finishes, leaving you in residual giggles. 
“Why are you laughing then?” He raises an eyebrow, though an amused smile makes home across his face. 
“Because you’re funny.” is your quick reply, covering your mouth with your sweater-covered hands. You simply cannot help the giggles that escape your mouth, a bright sound in the dull space of your room. Jeno simply has this effect on you; with only a smile or a lame joke, he is able to turn your dreary world into a place of carefree conversation and uncontrollable laughter. 
Unable to control himself at how you simply fall apart at his joke, Jeno mirrors your laughter, though the sound is much different than yours. His laugh is deep, and after months of hearing it you start to think that you could listen to him laugh forever. 
“You’re so cute,” he tells you once your mutual laughter has died down. At his sudden confession, you have the decency to smile, a warm feeling of espousement spreading through your chest. 
“You’re cuter,” you manage with a shy smile.
“Impossible.” If you were being honest, you were surprised at how smoothly Jeno delivered his sweet lines to you, considering his truth that he had never had a real girlfriend. It makes you smile now, thinking that perhaps like you were experiencing all these newfound emotions for the first time, he was too.
A moment of silence passes over you, though you don’t argue. You simply stare at each other, throwing strange ugly faces back and forth as you both attempt not to laugh. 
You lose when he makes an irresistible face, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue. Exploding into giggles, you lean back in your bed and let the laughter overcome you, though you keep it quiet so as to not alert your parents of your lack of studying. 
This was what you loved about Jeno. Never once did he make you feel that you were betraying your parents, for he always managed to make you smile in response. 
When you finally quiet down after a fit of laughs, Jeno’s voice is sudden: “Be my girlfriend.”
Immediately your eyes widen, and you look at him surprised. The look on his face is just as shellshocked, as though he didn’t know the words that came out of his mouth. He quickly recovers, smooth as always. 
“I really like you, Y/N. I like talking to you, and making you laugh, and hearing you laugh. I like seeing you all shy in your huge sweater, and I like the way you giggle when I kiss you. I like your mind, and the way you think, and even the way you think mint chocolate chip is the best flavor when it is far from the truth.”
His mention of ice cream makes you laugh again, pulling you from your shocked state. Only Lee Jeno himself would mention ice cream in a confession. 
“I really wanted to wait, until we were in person. But you’re so busy, and I know you try to make time for me but you still are. And you’re laying there, looking so cute in your sweater and laughing so adorably, and I just-” He stops himself, taking a breath. “I couldn’t stop myself.”
“Will you be my girlfriend, Y/N?”
A warm smile makes its way across your face as you hug your blanket to your chest, as though you were hugging Jeno instead. “Yes.” You say finally, watching him break out into a bright smile at your response, sporting the famous eye smile that caught your eye in the first place. 
Some people desire large grand-scale confessions of love, public and outrageous. On the other hand, some people prefer such moments to be small and intimate. Most people just want their confessions to be in person, actually. 
But no, you decide that Jeno’s rushed and shy FaceTime confession is the best form, and the only one you want. It was perfect, and you could not imagine anything better. 
Later when you yawn too loudly and Jeno wishes you goodnight with a “goodnight my adorable girlfriend,” you change his name from Pumpkin Boy to My Boy.
-
Your first date after becoming official is not even a date, really. 
Jeno picks you up in his car, bids a nervous hello to your parents, and drives the two of you to the local library, where the two of you plan to study for your upcoming winter finals. 
With final exams breathing down your back, the only way your parents will let you out is if you promise to study. Jeno finds no problem with this, so a week after that heart-fluttering FaceTime call, you find yourself pouring over your books alongside your boyfriend.
You were still trying to get used to calling him that. 
What you didn’t need to get comfortable with was Jeno’s presence. Despite the majority of your conversations happening over the phone, you felt yourself slip into a comfortable silence with him as you both opened your textbooks. 
His hand rests comfortably in yours, fingers curled together as the two of you look over your study materials. The library is quiet, though filled with students. 
Though you try your best to focus, it is hard to stay so whenever you think about him next to you. He is wearing another casual t-shirt from the youth committee that you never ended up joining, and dark jeans with his glasses perched on his face. Without even trying, he looks effortlessly handsome. He constantly occupies your thoughts. 
“Stop staring,” he says, not looking up from his notes. You pout.
“How did you know?”
“You started rubbing your thumb over my hand and you only do that when you stop reading.” Your pout grows deeper as you continue staring at his side profile, shamelessly now. 
“I didn’t realize you were paying such close attention to me,” you respond while returning to your work with a sigh. There was surely no way you were going to be able to focus on physics and calculus with him right next to you. 
“Of course I was. Just not as obvious as you,” he laughs lowly, careful not to disturb the silence of the library. 
“Hmph,” is your response, as you begrudgingly turn the next page of your physics textbook. Oh, how boring simple harmonic motion is in comparison to the boy sitting next to you, who you’d much rather like to put your attention on. 
“You wanted to study, now focus,” he says next, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek, leaving you warm with shyness. You simply don’t reply, just tightening your lips to prevent the proud smile threatening to spread across and returning your focus to your pages. 
“Ah, so cute,” Jeno coos as he turns back to his textbooks. 
Later when he returns you to your home he kisses you on the forehead and wishes you a quiet good luck on your exams. As he turns away and jogs back to his car, old indeed, you smile to yourself and think that this was the epitome of a great first date. 
-
Finally summer comes, and you and Jeno are able to spend more time together. 
Graduation has passed, both of you attending the other’s, and university awaits you. Though you and Jeno are attending the same university in Seoul, you know that this is the calm that awaits the storm. So, you take advantage of all the time this summer with the boy who has made his way into your heart. 
Sometimes you found it difficult to comprehend that you had made it through six months in a relationship with him, given your schedules and both your lack of experience. Yes, your relationship was a ride, but you would do it all for him. 
Especially now, as the two of you are connected in a liplock in his bedroom, you consider giving it all to him. Atop his bed, with him hovering over you with a kiss that makes your head spin, you feel for the first time a strong overwhelming desire. 
His tongue slides over your lips and you let him in easily, these lines blurred as your tongue meets his. You’re not unaware of his hands that grip your hips, and the fervor with which he presses his body to yours. Within seconds his warmth is gone, and you pop your eyes open to find that he has pulled away to rid himself of his shirt. A smile makes its way across your face, and the shirt is long forgotten on the floor somewhere when he meets your lips once again. 
Though the room is hot, you grow even warmer in the coming minutes as he presses his body to yours, your clothed cores meeting in a burning manner. Moaning into his mouth, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, begging for more friction. 
He moans your name in response and groans, about to pull away. It is not the first time, after all, that the two of your have cut your makeout sessions off short. 
You had discussed your virginities before, and had agreed that when the time came, it would be right. And to you, it felt right just about now.
“No,” you call out to him as he peels himself off of you and makes a move to get off the bed. Reaching to him, you grip him by the belt hook of his jeans, and pull him back atop of you. 
Gaining newfound courage, you bury your face into the crook of his neck, kissing the skin. “I want you,” you moan into him before beginning to suckle on an area of skin. 
You feel him tense in your hold, as though contemplating it, and he moans aloud. “Fuck, babe,” he curses as you pull away to reveal a pink spot at his neck, which will surely darken in the coming hours. 
“Are you sure?” He asks, breath hot against your skin as he returns the favor, lips and teeth playing over the sensitive pallor of your neck. Yes, yes, yes. A hundred times yes. 
You are sure there is nothing you’ve ever wanted more. 
“Yes, Jeno,” you respond as you tilt your head back in pleasure, though it leaves your mouth as more of a moan than a reply. Not needing any further confirmation, he pulls away (getting a whine out of you) and reaches over to his nightstand, producing a condom from the drawer.
“I wanted to be prepared,” he explains sheepishly at your look. 
“Whatever,” you respond, only reaching up to him to pull him back to you. 
And your first time is indeed, with Jeno, all you imagined it to be. 
-
The summer is a blessing. 
Over the next few months, you are able to learn about Jeno in an entirely new way. It is almost intimate, the secrets and quirks you discover about this boy of yours. 
You learn how to rile him up in a way that will surely end with him pinning you to the bed. You discover the spot on his neck that he loves you sucking on, and as he becomes increasingly daring in the progression of your sexual escapades, you come to find that no matter how rough he is in the act, he becomes the softest lover afterward. 
But you also come to learn about what makes Jeno, Jeno. 
You come to easily recognize the face that he makes when gaming, brows furrowed in concentration. Though he argues with you that he will watch whatever movie you want, you learn that he will almost always fall asleep in your arms whenever you turn on a chick flick rom com movie. You can’t even be mad at him, because you know he tried. As much as you told him it was okay to watch one of those action movies that he loved, he insisted on watching your movies, and that warmed your heart. 
During your first sleepover, you find that Jeno likes to cuddle in his sleep. Though the victim is most often his pillow at home, it soon becomes you which he clings to in his sleep. 
And when you’re not falling asleep in his arms, you do it to the careful sound of his steady breathing over the phone. It has become a routine now for the two of you, calling before bed and ultimately submitting to sleep together. 
These are things that you have come to love, as much as you love Jeno. 
It is what you have always desired in a relationship: the easygoing love, that didn’t ask for much. Comfortable, so much that he can tease you about how you snore and that you can smack him on the chest whenever he makes a dirty joke. So much that him in his pajamas becomes a familiar sight for you, and you learn to stop worrying over and controlling how you look around him. His love, in some ways, is like a blanket, enveloping you in all the warmth you need. 
Jeno makes you comfortable, and that’s all you can ask for.
One night, in early August, you are on the phone when he says to you, “It’s 11:11, make a wish.” Instead of listening to him, you make a face which he catches over FaceTime. 
“What’s with the face, missy?”
“11:11 is so.. ugly.” You respond, and he laughs, throwing his head back in that typical Jeno-style of his. Though you cannot explain any further, you get the idea that he knows what you mean. 
Jeno has, of course, come to understand your affinity for perfection, and your obsession with being the best, as instilled by your parents. Therefore he understands what you mean without asking for a further explanation. 
“It rubs you the wrong way, doesn’t it?” You nod. Though everyone claims it to be a magical time, you cannot help but feel that it looks off putting. Why 11:11, and not 10:10? It made more sense after all—ten was considered to be a perfect number, that’s why people say ten stars out of ten. The logic between 11:11 simply did not make sense to you. 
Jeno seems to know you better than you know yourself, for he says just this. “I’m sure something like 10:10 appeals a lot more to you, huh?” 
“How’d you know?” You ask, genuinely shocked as you tilt your head at him. Had you perhaps said your thoughts aloud?
“I’m your boyfriend. I know how you think,” he laughs matter-of-factly. At his laugh you pout a bit unknowingly, not sure how to feel at the revelation that he knew you just as well as you knew yourself. “Alright how about this. Let’s let the rest of the world be inferiors who make wishes at 11:11, but you and me will have our own special time. 10:10. Yeah?” 
The idea is stupid, but you find yourself nodding and smiling at the same time. Warmth envelopes you once again, and you come to realize that this is love you feel for him, strong, potent, overwhelming love. 
His idea was definitely stupid, but you were stupid in love with him. 
The next morning you trudge your way down the stairs after staying up all night on the phone, looking for breakfast. In the midst of your preparations you hear your phone ring, so you look to it. 
From: My Boy 10:10. I wish you’ll have a good day today, love. 
You look up to the clock displayed on the stove and find that it is indeed that time. You’re surprised, honestly, that Jeno has managed to remember, though you shouldn’t be. 
Yes, summer was a blessing and Lee Jeno was your’s. 
-
Fall approaches quickly, signaling your impending departure from your home and toward adulthood. You are more than excited for your new university life, something you have worked toward your entire life. 
And you’re more than thrilled to be doing it with Jeno beside you. 
While you’re a business major and Jeno is studying kinesiology, you will be in two completely different buildings but that’s okay. The fact that you get to attend college with your boyfriend, something that you had worried about in the early stages of your relationship, is more than enough. 
He helps you move into your dorm, and greets your roommate, Yerim. With his help you manage to unload the majority of your belongings, including many pictures of the two of you. Your roommate doesn’t miss the chance to point out your necklace, to which you smile. Jeno had gifted you a promise ring before the two of you left, and because you did not like the sensation of a ring on your finger, you had slid it onto a chain. It is with an admiring smile that Yerim comments, “You two must be serious.”
Yes, you are becoming an adult, and your love with Jeno has begun to mature. 
What you don’t realize, is that it could mature for the worse. 
-
College is busy, and you come to realize this. 
Jeno is still playing volleyball for the school team, and his practice schedule is much more demanding than in high school. Likewise, you have joined the school’s dance team, because you simply cannot give up your first love of dancing. 
You both have full school schedules atop extracurricular activities and part time jobs. So, it becomes increasingly difficult to plan dates, even study dates which had been your easy escape in high school. 
Now, the two of you lay in your bed at the dorm, relishing in the rare presence of each other. 
“How about Thursday, after your lecture?” He asks as he inhales your familiar scent that he had begun to miss. 
“I work on Thursday from 3 to 7.” 
He sighs, warm against your scalp. “Okay, how about after work?”
You make a face, though it’s hidden to him. “I have rehearsal from 8 until 11. How about Saturday?”
“I have a game.”
“Oh, right.”
“Won’t you come? You can come watch,” he says as he pulls his face neck, instead looking down at you. “It’ll be like high school again, remember?” This is said with a smile and a nudge, for he is no doubt reminiscing about your first kiss. 
You have to fight to keep the displeased expression from making a home across your features. Sure, you loved watching Jeno play, for he exerted a different energy on the court. However, you had a test on Monday and could surely use all the time you had to study for it. You had been willing to give up time to spend with your boyfriend, but if you attended the game you would only be watching him. If you were only going to be watching him and unable to interact with him until after the three hour match, then you’d rather take a raincheck until you are able to be with him in person. So you tell this to him, hoping that he will understand. 
He is Jeno, so of course he does. Simply offering a nod in response, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Makes sense. You should study, anyways,” he says this though he wears a disappointed smile.
“Is something wrong?” You ask as you look up to him with worry in your eyes. 
“No,” he replies immediately with a shake of his head. “Nothing’s wrong, I promise. Don’t worry about me. I understand, babe.”
You know he does, because that’s what he’s best at: understanding you. He always has. And so you are not surprised that when Saturday morning comes, and you’re about to turn off your phone to enter the library, you see his text.
From: My Boy 10:10. I wish you good luck on your studying and your exam, my love. 
You smile at your boyfriend, ever so thoughtful, and quickly type a response back before tucking your phone away. 
To: My Boy Same here. I wish you good luck on your game ♡
-
The first time you do think something is wrong, is when you return to your dorm a little past 10PM after studying for your upcoming finals.
It is December now, and with your first ever college finals beginning to stress you out, you had invested in a little study group. Your boyfriend had texted earlier, asking when you’d be done; you had told him seven, but it had run a couple hours over. 
You are just about ready to jump in bed and text him, only to find him already sitting on your bed when you open the door. 
“Jeno,” you call, surprise clearly showing across your face. His eyes are not directed at you, but rather the bag of food that sits on your desk. You can read the label perfectly; it is from your favorite restaurant, about a thirty minute drive off campus. 
Had he gotten it for you, because he knew you were stressed and overwhelmed with finals? That was so sweet of him, not that you expected any less. “Did you get dinner?” You ask as you shut the door behind you, already slipping off your jacket to prepare to be in his embrace. 
“You said you'd be back at seven.” His voice is tired, but still remains an edge.
It occurs now to you that he’s angry. You two have had your fair share of arguments, considering Jeno was expressive with his thoughts and you had a tendency to ignore things that upset you. He’s angry because you’re late, and you sigh. 
“I know, but we got caught up studying. You know much this course has been stressing me out,” you reason with him as you open the bag, pulling out plates of your favorite meals. Though your stomach growls in pleasurable hunger at the sight, Jeno remains seated on your bed with a stern expression. 
“I’ve been here for hours. Couldn’t you have left early?”
“For dinner? I was studying, and my phone was turned off. I said I’m sorry, Jeno.” You reply sharply, getting quite annoyed with his behavior. Of course it was thoughtful of him to bring you dinner when you would have just settled on ramen, but he knew how you were when you were studying. Considering that you were taking nearly twice the amount of units as him, you thought he’d understand your workload. “If you wanted to have dinner together you could have just come find me at the library.” 
“No, not for dinner. For our anniversary,” he spits out bitterly, turning his gaze away from you. 
That’s when it hits you.
Your mouth falls open as your gaze at him; had you… forgotten your anniversary in the midst of your school-induced craze? There was no way. You would never. 
Immediately you pull out the calendar from your desk, and search for today’s date.
No fucking way. 
You had… forgotten your anniversary. A year ago today, around this same time, Jeno had shyly asked you to be his girlfriend over FaceTime. You had skipped studying to talk to him, and now, you had used studying as your excuse to forget such a monumental date. 
Guilt washes over you within milliseconds, and you’re grasping for him. As soon as your fingers touch his arm he stands from your bed, frustration and disappointment on his face. 
“Babe-” You call him, but he cuts you off. 
“No. All this time I was giving you the benefit of the doubt, thinking you’d come back with some surprise to make up for being late. But no, not only were you late, you forgot. Is your studying that important?”
You are at a loss for an answer, because you know that the immediate answer in your head will only upset him: Yes. Yes, of course your studying is your priority, as your parents made it so. But the question you had to ask yourself was, was it more important than your boyfriend?
The fact that you cannot find an answer upsets both you and Jeno. 
In a moment he’s already grabbed his hoodie and turned to leave. “Eat your dinner. Happy anniversary,” he calls bitterly behind him. Within seconds, he is gone. 
And you immediately scramble for your phone, looking to call him, text him, anything. You know Jeno, that he gets upset and simply needs time to cool down, so you cannot go after him. But when he calms, you know that he will look at his phone, and so you want to give him something to see. 
Your eyes fall upon the clock as you type your message, and though your anniversary is less than perfect, you hope that he will come back to you. 
To: My Boy I’m sorry. It’s 10:10. My wish is that you’ll forgive me.
And so he does.
-
Your freshman year of college is coming to a close, and you have yet to attend a party.
Everyone tells you that it is a rite of passage in university, but you have not been able to pull yourself away from your books long enough to even consider a party. All of your time is divided between school, dance, and Jeno. 
Jeno, on the other hand, being a part of the school’s official volleyball team, attends many parties. It is not so much that it is irritating or worrying, but he surely goes to enough parties that he begins asking you to come. 
You are packing up your dorm, tucking your decorations into a box when you receive a text. 
From: My Boy Hyuck is throwing a party tonight. End of the year stuff. Will you come? 
Lee Donghyuck is someone that you don’t particularly like. Though your boyfriend has befriended him through their mutual membership on the team, you dislike the fact that he is throwing parties nearly every weekend, urging your boyfriend to attend. You wish that Jeno would stop being so nice for once, and just say no. 
Much like you do. 
From: My Boy Please? It’s the end of the year. 
Glancing at the message on your lit up screen as you tape a box closed, you sigh. You had just finished your final exam hours earlier, and you wanted nothing more than to cuddle in bed with your boyfriend before you both headed home for the summer tomorrow. In fact, the last thing you wanted was to have to fight a hangover on the drive home. 
To: My Boy Not feeling it. I still have to finish packing. 
His reply comes immediately.
From: My Boy I’ll help you pack tomorrow. Come on, it’ll be fun.
To: My Boy Jeno, I said no. I’m exhausted and I want to finish packing now so I can rest. 
To: My Boy I’m not in the mood to party. 
You toss your phone onto the bed, and though it beeps quickly with his response, you don’t glance at it until you’ve packed away another box. 
From: My Boy Can’t you have fun for once? 
At his message your brows immediately furrow in displeasure and your fingers are quick in typing a response, growing increasingly annoyed by his badgering. 
To: My Boy Did you come to university to study or to have fun and fail your classes? 
It’s a low blow, for you know Jeno only failed his Intro to Psychology class because it was early in the mornings on the days after his volleyball practices past midnight. But it doesn’t mean you feel any less upset with him. 
From: My Boy Wow. Did you come to university to study until your eyes bleed and you forget your anniversary?
Another low blow. 
Your fingers move faster than your brain, and you send your response before you can even comprehend what you have written. 
To: My Boy Yes, I did. Go to your party. But don’t bother picking me up tomorrow. I’d rather crash than drive with your hungover ass. 
Once the weight of your words begin to sit on your shoulders, he responds, and you can almost feel his frustration. 
From: My Boy Fine. 
You don’t sleep that night.
-
You had asked your mom to pick you up from your school, and you were glad that she had not asked any questions regarding your original plans to return with Jeno. 
Rather, she shows up early in the morning and helps you load your belongings into the car. So early in fact, that when Jeno knocks on your door around noon, all he meets is Yerim who tells him you had already left. 
As much as you hate to admit it, there is a bit of satisfaction in your chest when Yerim texts you to tell you this. You had planned to leave at 10AM with him anyways, yet he hadn’t even woken up from his hungover stupor until near noon. It only goes to show that you had been right after all. 
Jeno was too much about fun, and you knew that was detrimental to him.
In fact, the two of you spend the first week of summer vacation ignoring each other. He texts you a few times, to which you give short responses. You do not pick up his calls, though you find trouble sleeping without the sound of his breath over the receiver. 
This is the longest you’ve gone angry at each other, and this fact does not escape you nor Jeno. 
You are already missing him so much, feeling that you’re missing an essential part of yourself, that when he shows up at your doorstep at 9PM one night, you immediately envelope him in your embrace. 
Your argument is long forgotten, until Jeno mentions it while you’re cuddling in your now mostly barren bedroom. Somehow, your nostalgic mind throws you back to last summer, to the nights you had simply enjoyed Jeno’s presence in your life and in your bed.
Though only a year has passed, you feel like a new person. 
“You know I love you,” his deep voice resonates in your ears, and you nod, your head on his chest. 
“And I’d never want to hurt you.” You nod again. 
“And you know I’m sorry.” You hum in response. 
“And it’s 10:10, so I love you more. And I wish that we can leave this behind us,” he says, referring to your week-long argument. In response, you nod and look up to him with bright eyes filled to the brim of pure love. 
“Consider it granted.” This is your reply as you press your lips to his, to the lips you have grown to love so much. On reflex, his hands come up to press at your hips, the body that he has admired in so many ways. 
And that night for the first time in what feels to be a long time, you make love. It is perfect, though your love isn’t always. It is a love you have both come to take for granted. 
-
The summer proves to be very different from the last. Something has changed, though you don’t know what. 
Though you and Jeno have made up, this doesn’t mean you see each other as much as you’d like, or that your schedules clear up for each other, or that you become more understanding of each other. You take a summer job at your mother’s business, which fills your entire weekly schedule from nine to five. Meanwhile, Jeno busies himself as the assistant coach for a boy’s youth volleyball team which practices every other day. 
The days belong to the world, but your nights belong to each other. Because your parents no longer care about the seriousness of your relationship with Jeno, they pay no mind to him spending the night, or you at his. 
Tonight it is his bed that you lay in, his chest pressed against your back as he holds you by the waist. As much as you have been arguing lately, finding excuses to avoid him whenever your words hurt each other, you cannot deny that in his arms, you feel safe.
You feel, no, you know, that whatever the world throws at you, you will be okay as long as you have Jeno. 
As soon as this thought occurs to you, you feel a strange emotion spreading across your chest, though it is not unfamiliar. There, his arm slung over your waist and his steady breath in your ears, you feel love seep through your veins and consume you. 
Jeno is your home. You know that. 
He is your person. The one person in the world who knows you for you. He accepts you for your flaws, like your overstudying, your habit of stressing yourself out, your desire for perfection. Jeno knows all these things, and accepts them. 
Whenever you make mistakes (and you have made a lot of them), he forgives you. He accepts you with open arms, though you had never even left his heart. And through this he has taught you to do the same for him. 
He laughs without hearing your punchline. He smiles for you without needing a reason to. He loves you, cherishing you as though you are perfect when you are far from it.
You know people all over the world spend their lives hoping for a love like this. 
“Jeno,” you call to him, your voice breaking the silence though you know he was nowhere close to sleeping. 
“Hm,” he hums in response, embrace tightening. 
“Why did you pick me that day? In the pumpkin patch. Did you… come to me because you liked me? Or… was it fate?”
Not that you had ever believed in fate. You believed that fate could only work so many miracles: as much as destiny lends a helping hand, one will get nowhere without hard work. Hard work was your relationship. 
He is quiet for minutes, but you know he is not asleep. 
Finally, he answers. “I came to you.”
“Why?”
“Because. I knew you were special.” You? Special was surely the last word you would use to describe yourself. As though sensing your confusion, he continues. “You stood out to me. In the crowd of hundreds of people, I found you. I felt that you were special, and in the end, I was right. You are special. You are so determined… so smart. Forgiving, loving, strong-headed.”
You turn and bury your head into his chest as he continues to shower you with compliments. Even after almost two years together, he could still fluster you this way. 
“I love you,” he finally says, a closing statement. He is good. He is too good to you, you think as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “Goodnight.”
You could never let him go. He is your perfect. 
-
Four months later, two weeks short of your second anniversary, you nearly do. 
You and Jeno are sitting in your shared apartment, the two of you having decided that you were ready to move in together. It had been a big milestone for the both of you, but you knew you were both ready. In actuality, you only saw each other so often in the apartment. 
He’d wake up first and go to the gym after leaving a kiss on your forehead, and by the time he came back, you'd already left for your 8AM lecture. The next time you would meet would be briefly for a shared dinner, between your two discussions and before his volleyball practice. 
Then you would slip into bed with him a little before midnight, having just returned from dance rehearsal. 
Tonight though, you had decided to skip on rehearsal. It has been a couple weeks since your last quiet night with Jeno, so you made a sacrifice, one he had been begging you to make for a while now. 
You know that Jeno misses you, just as much as you miss him. But the weeks are busy, and on the weekends Jeno almost always has games and events to attend. On occasions you join him, but you soon find them to be exhausting.
You much prefer these quiet nights with him, with his arms around you on the couch and a shared bowl of popcorn balanced between the two of you. 
Tonight, you are uncharacteristically tired. With finals coming up, you have been overworking your mind to the max, and with the additional stress of dance on your shoulders, you have been getting less than enough sleep.
This is why you find yourself dozing off in Jeno’s arms, your head on his shoulder as your eyes begin to droop. 
You love this. It is this comfort that you have long mentioned and adored. 
You love that you can fall asleep in his arms, and know that you will wake up safe. You love that he loves you enough to carry you back to bed when you doze off, and you love that he loves you.
You love him.
Just as you’re about to slip into the abyss of sleep, you hear Jeno sigh. 
“Seriously? You’re falling asleep?”
His annoyed tone makes you open your eyes, and you do so to find yourself facing his frustrated eyes. “Hm..?” You ask, voice still clouded with fatigue. 
His response only reflects his growth in vexation. “We haven’t had a night to ourselves like this in weeks. We’re only thirty minutes into the movie and you’re already falling asleep. Are you that desperate to be rid of me?”
His words trigger a response in you, and you feel a huff of disdain leave your lips. “I’m tired, Jeno. I’m exhausted.”
“And you think I’m not? I have more units than even you this semester, and I have volleyball to deal with. You think I’m not tired, but I suck it up to spend this time with you?” He unhooks his arm from around you and you frown, knowing he is both physically and emotionally retracting from you. 
“No one asked you to,” you reply angrily, feeling your annoyance grow by the second.
This seems to upset him the most, because he stands to his feet and begins to pace. You hate when Jeno paces. 
“Of course no one asked me to. You shouldn’t have to in a relationship. But lately it’s always, ‘Oh Y/N, won’t you please have dinner with me tonight?’ ‘Babe, can’t you stop studying for two minutes to cuddle me?’ ‘Can’t you skip rehearsal?’ I’m tired of always asking you to put effort in.”
His answer infuriates you and you stand to your feet as well, volume of your voice rising. “I did skip rehearsal for you. And I’m trying my best, didn’t I promise you once that I’d always give my best for you?”
He scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, because this is your best.”
“This is my best!” You retort, feeling angry tears well in your eyes.
This was not your Jeno. Your Jeno was understanding, accepting. He loved you for all your bullshit, everything that you gave to him. Now your indignation is valid; you don’t recall ever yelling at him, or even getting personally upset, whenever he had knocked out during your movie nights. The nights were he would argue and insist on watching a movie of your choice, only to fall asleep before the end.
You could have made a scene then. Could have yelled at him for being insensitive, and that you would’ve much rather watched a stupid action movie with him than watch a rom-com alone. 
But you didn’t. So it infuriates you that he has the audacity to complain, the first time you do what he does so often. 
“Well maybe your best isn’t good enough.” 
His answer stings, and hangs in the air, for you cannot formulate a response. 
Not good enough. 
Those were familiar words to you. 
You had heard it from none other than your parents for the majority of your life. As much as you loved them, they were to blame for your insecurities, for your inconsolable need to be the best. You would only be the best by working your ass off for it. 
You never would have thought you’d hear it from your boyfriend, who was supposed to love and accept you in all forms.
With sad, betrayed eyes you nod and scream back. “I know I’m not enough. I’ve never been enough. Is that what you want to hear?”
“No, it’s not. I want you to argue. I want you to fight back. You never do! You just let things happen, you just ignore them and think they’ll go away. You forgot our anniversary, and didn’t even chase after me. We got into a disagreement, one little disagreement, and you ran home without me.”
“Well fuck, Jeno, you’re saying you want me to be a mess?”
“No, I want you to fucking try for this relationship once. For once, I want you to pick me. Pick me over your stupid study groups, or your nights out with your friends when you barely even have enough nights for me. Pick me over your dance team, or studying, or any other stupid thing you have going on in your life.”
You glare at him, crossing your arms across your chest as he lists off the aspects of your life. “And you think I don’t try?”
He stares, and stares, and stares. You can practically see the deliberation in his eyes, hear his thoughts in your mind. This you can do because you know him, you have learned him from the inside out. 
But perhaps you have not learned everything.
“No. I don’t.”
Finally, your tears fall. Hot and angry, they leave wet trails down your cheeks which leave you feeling weak and hopeless. Crying is not weak, you know this. But crying means to you that you have run out of things to exert your frustration into, and this can only mean one thing. 
It is the end.
So you turn away, shuffling with quick feet into your shared bedroom, and slam the door shut, ignoring when he comes after you and knocks rapidly on the locked door. 
-
To: Heejin (◕‿◕) Hey Heej. I need you.
It has been weeks since you last spoke to your best friend. Because she decided to study abroad in Japan, you have since become somewhat distant. But she is the only person besides Jeno whom you can run to, though perhaps you are tired of running. 
A best friend indeed, she replies within seconds. 
From: Heejin (◕‿◕) What’s up babe? It’s so late, what happened?
With shaking fingers you write your response. 
To: Heejin (◕‿◕) I think
To: Heejin (◕‿◕) I need to break up with Jeno. 
It isn’t until you press ‘send’ that it hits you. Perhaps because you had written it into existence, but your anger becomes replaced with sadness.
Your Jeno.
Your first love, your first. You could not imagine ever letting him go, yet you had just admitted to it. When your phone vibrates, you can tell that your best friend is just as shocked. 
From: Heejin (◕‿◕) Oh honey. Call me.
-
An hour later you have gotten off the phone, and your tears have dried. 
You clasp at your bedsheets, though you find that for the first time in your relationship, Jeno has slept on the couch. This is the worst it has ever been, and you can’t decide what hurts more: the fact that you had come to this decision, or the fact that he had let you.
Heejin had spoken calmly in comparison to you. 
You had cried, you had argued with her, and you had denied the things she said. Because she was your best friend, she was not afraid to say things that would hurt you. Because unlike Jeno, she knew that you would love her forever.
She had helped you see the truth, and it had become much clearer now.
You and Jeno were no longer compatible. 
He had taken you for granted. He only saw you for your shortcomings, for the dates that you had skipped out on or forgotten. He did not choose to see the things you did for him.
Things like making breakfast for him before you left for your class, knowing he’d see it when he returned from the gym. Things like replacing his shampoos, because you knew he was too busy to notice it with the stress of volleyball running in his head. The little things, which required little thought to perform but a lot of thought to recognize.
You had agreed with her here. 
Then she told you the ways in which you had wronged him.
You had misunderstood him. No, she had told you, you had never even taken the chance to understand him. Rather than see that he simply enjoyed parties for the sake of freeing himself from stress, you saw him as irresponsible. You wanted to believe that him asking for your time was him being greedy. 
You had always expected him to understand you without saying anything, yet you could not even attempt to understand him even when he was saying it, asking you. 
What she had told you at the very end, as you were nearly crying into your pillow, was that you had mistaken comfort for distance. 
Because you had assumed that he would always be by your side understanding you, it was easy for you to stand him up for unimportant things like study groups and nights out with friends. Because he had understood. 
But being pushed to the side had become too much for him, when you began to abandon the great things, like seeing his team win the championship because you had rehearsal, or missing your first anniversary because you were studying. 
That was what had shook you to your very core. 
You had been pining, hoping for a comfortable, understanding love that you did not realize when this comfort that he had provided you turned into laziness on your part. 
And though you were angry at him, you knew that you should be just as angry at yourself. 
That night you fell asleep, and dreamt of a handsome young teenage boy in an ugly orange t-shirt, offering you a mini pumpkin and a lifetime of love. 
-
Your breakup went, as you would say, perfect.
You had both seen it coming, and so when Jeno mentioned it two days later, you were not shocked. Just because you had expected it though, doesn’t mean it hurt any less.
Because the house was in your name, he had left it, along with his key on the counter.
Within a weekend he had rid the apartment of his belongings, though he left your shared things behind. Your pictures, the hoodies that he had ultimately given you. Your promise rings.
It scared you almost, how calm the two of you were in the process. 
When he left, he gave you a tight hug, and whispered to you for the last time: “I love you.” Except this time, “I’m sorry” followed suit. Then a gust of wind and he was gone. 
It was amicable. There was little screaming, there was a polite goodbye. He was kind enough to leave his gifts to you, and to take the gifts you had given him, though you were sure they would soon be discarded. He had even had sense to make the bed before he left, and clear the bathroom of his toothbrush. 
Only Lee Jeno would be so thoughtful in a breakup.
And so as you fall to the floor with tears in your eyes and sob on your lips, you hate yourself for falling in love with such a kind, perfect man. 
-
A year passes. 
You are in your third year of university now, though you have moved out of your previously shared apartment and into a new, smaller one which occupies less space. You don’t need the excessive room anymore, with only one person.
Perhaps you have moved on.
Originally you had allotted yourself two years of time to let Lee Jeno leave your mind and your heart, that having been the amount of time you spent together. But sometimes, you truly feel that you have gotten over him. 
Because you had rarely seen him on campus even during your relationship, you do not run into him on your large campus. You avoid going to volleyball games, or any sports games for that matter. 
You even go on a few dates. 
First there is Huang Renjun, an art major who you meet when he accidentally spills paint on you. But no, he is too harsh with his words, you learn when he gives you the hell for cancelling last minute.
Then there is Kim Jungwoo, who you meet at the coffee shop off campus. He is a barista, but you cannot find more than attraction for him in your soul because he is not ambitious, he has no more dreams besides making coffee. 
You even find yourself sleeping with Lee Donghyuck once, but you quickly find that he is annoying and too brash, not like Jeno. 
Like Jeno. None of them are like Jeno, and that is why none of them stay. 
And so even though you tell yourself that you are over Lee Jeno, because you can give your number to strangers in the coffee shop and you can sleep with overzealous frat boys, you know deep in your heart, that you have never been close to moving on.
It hits you most when you are alone, especially late in night when you cannot fall asleep. And you remember what it was like to fall asleep in his arms, with his warmth and his breathing which brought a feeling of sturdiness. 
Especially tonight, you are in bed early when you think about the fact that today marks one year since he has left you. 
As poorly as your relationship progressed, Jeno has changed you for the better.
After your breakup, you came to realize your shortcomings. 
It was true that you never made time for anything in your life, especially not for him. You no longer wanted your significant other to have to beg for your time, and so you began to take more time for yourself.
Study less, not that you needed to study as much as you did. Breathe more. Take walks. Sit for an hour or two in the coffee shop without a goal. 
It slowed your life down. Jeno taught you this. 
And despite the tears that you spilled for him, he taught you how to love. 
He taught you that love was not perfect, as much as you strived for it to be. There would be bumps, there would be fights. There would be the pumpkin patch moments; those are the ones that make you feel on top of the world, as though your love could trump all. Then there are the moments of longing, where you haven’t felt the comfort of the other’s presence in what feels like millenia. There also exist times of peril, where you scream at each other and slam the doors in each other’s faces over who falls asleep in a movie. 
What Jeno has taught you, however, is that you have to make the pumpkin patch moments outnumber all the other negatives. 
He has taught you that like you have to work in life for a degree or a job promotion, you have to work for love. You have to chase after that person when they storm out. You have to calm down, and listen to the other’s words in a moment of anger. Sometimes, you have to forgive them, you have to acquiesce, as Jeno had often done for you.
And most of all he has taught you that you never forget your first love. 
Lee Jeno was the perfect first love. He had loved you carefully, with your best efforts in mind. You could not have asked for anything more.
Even if you can have other loves, you don’t want them. You want your first love, and you want him to be your last. You would start over with him in every single way if you could, except you would be better this time.
Even if this is not possible.
You would never be able to return to the way you were, to a bright-eyed boy with pumpkins in his hand and a shy quiet girl with too much ambition for her own good. You cannot ask for him to be the boy you first met, because you cannot fulfill that role for him either. 
But you don’t want to return to those days, as good as they were. You want to continue on your journey of growth with him by your side. You will never have the chance to now. 
Your phone rings from beneath your pillow. You pull it out, gaze at the message on the screen, and smile.
You had never been able to change his name after all this time. 
From: My Boy 10:10. My wish is for another chance to make you happy.
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watermelonlipstick · 3 years
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Dreams, Chapter 3
If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:
When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.
Title: Dreams, Chapter 3
Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 2344
Summary: It’s Christmas in Wisconsin for Sam and the reader.
Warnings: angst (sensing a theme here), alcohol, slow burn
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           Christmas Eve was a Thursday, which meant you were working. You’d predicted it would be slow, but there were big chunks of time where no one was in the bar at all. Christmas carols on the radio helped pass the time, and you drank a little more of the almost-coquito you’d thrown together in the back at the beginning of the shift than you needed to. It reminded you of your aunt and the way she’d smell of coconut through Boxing Day every year when you were growing up; welcome nostalgia you could tolerate like pressing a thumb into a bruise and distracted you from the evisceration of thinking of Dean. The day shift had left the bar understocked, so Sam spent a good amount of time going up and down the stairs refilling refrigerators and cutting fruit for drinks. Around 10 or 11 the people who didn’t want to wrap up the night when their in-laws went home straggled in, a handful of regulars that you generally liked but had a tendency to get a little rowdy when left alone together. It didn’t help that they showed up a few drinks in.
           The merriment was infectious, and it was sweet to hear grown men proud of the gifts they’d gotten their loved ones. One even brought a few bottles of homemade maple syrup to give to the others, sliding one sheepishly across the bar to you. You were pouring out a round of coquito when Sam came up from the basement with a towel tossed over his shoulder.
           “Everything should be good,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t cut it in months and the ends fell gracefully around his shoulders. A piece fell oddly across his forehead and you reflexively fixed it for him.
           “What did you two get each other?” a regular, Steve, asked with a relaxed finger pointing between you and Sam. His cheeks were ruddy with whiskey and winter air.
           “Oh. I—uh, we don’t really do gifts,” Sam offered placatingly.
           “Man, where did you find this girl? Listens to classic rock, drives a stick shift, and doesn’t ‘do gifts’?” another, Joe, added.
           “You better be buying her some presents or someone else will.” Jake, a customer you’d always felt safe around since he tossed out a rude guy for you a month back, chimed in.
           You and Sam had never explicitly said that you were together. People just assumed, and it was easier to go along with it than explain the truth, especially because you didn’t look similar enough to be siblings and you still couldn’t shake your need to cling to him from time to time. It was almost never an issue aside from periodic mild teasing. This Christmas talk was a departure from the non-explanations you and Sam usually gave and you found yourself waiting for a cue on where to go. Sam seemed to be having the same thought, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
           You spoke before the moment had a chance to become too pregnant. “You know how hard it is to buy presents for a guy who doesn’t like having stuff? If he buys me something, I’ll have to get him something too!” You hoped it sounded smooth, your lying out of practice in the months since you’d had a cover on a hunt. Sam smirked gratefully at you.  
           Joe shook his head wistfully. “Seriously, where did you find her?”
           “She’s pretty great, isn’t she?” Sam’s voice sounded sort of soft around the edges, almost like he was tired but not quite. When you looked up at him, that pebble of self-consciousness you’d felt at the hardware flipped in your stomach again and you glanced away in favor of a one-armed hug you intended to look affectionate. Sam did the same, encompassing your entire shoulder with his hand.
           When you drove home that night, warm and full of coquito, Sam played Christmas carols.
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           “I think we should do gifts.”
           It was the first thing you thought when you woke up, and you said it into Sam’s chest as you laid there before you opened your eyes. You could tell from the rhythm of his breathing that he wasn’t all the way asleep.
           “Hmm?”
           “I think we should do gifts. We should really do Christmas if we’re going to do it, and that means presents. What do you think?”
           You felt as much as you saw out of the corner of your drowsy eyes that Sam raised his unpinned arm to rub the sleep out of his. “Mmm, okay? I mean if that’s what you want.”
           “Thank you,” you said as you nestled deeper into him.
           “‘S already Christmas though.” Sleep pulled Sam’s words together like taffy.
           “It can be goofy stuff; I just think we should open presents under a tree and everything. Seems like the kind of thing we should do, you know? Like trying to be normal.” You couldn’t bear saying out loud what you meant, that Dean would’ve wanted presents and stockings and eggnog and Santa hats and a big roast if he could’ve, to fall asleep after watching the stars glitter off of falling snow.
           Sam heard anyway.
           “You’re right,” Sam murmured. He rubbed your upper arm absentmindedly.
           “I’ll wake you back up when the bathroom’s free,” you offered, carefully rolling over him to get out of the bed. He nodded with closed eyes and flopped over onto his stomach.
           About an hour later, a wet haired Sam slid into the Impala’s driver side and rubbed his hands together to warm them up. You could tell from the puffiness around his eyes and his overcompensating casual tone that he’d been crying. He set his phone to pipe Your Inner Fish through the stereo and backed down the driveway over snow tamped down over the last week.
           It had been years since you’d gone Christmas shopping, as much as this could be considered Christmas shopping. The town you’d settled in had exactly 7 businesses on a tiny main street, including 1 small inn, a grocery store, the hardware store, a coffee shop (the most reliable internet in town, much faster than your place) and 3 different places to get a burger. You met Sam in the grocery store after grabbing what you wanted from next door in hardware, catching him just as he came out carrying a bag with a long pipe of wrapping paper stretching far past the top. When you left, there were only two other cars in the parking lot grabbing their own last-minute things.
           You wrapped your presents on the bed. It wasn’t like riding a bike as you’d hoped it would be, and your sloppy corners started you down a mental spiral. What a completely asinine thing, wrapping hardware store presents to put under a stolen tree. This wasn’t the Rockwell painting you wanted to present as sacrifice to Dean’s memory. It was cheap and stupid, a sloppy high school production when Dean deserved Broadway. He always had. As much as the three of you had never really done Christmas, Dean knew how to make something special while maintaining the air of not caring. You remembered waking up on his made-up anniversaries: six months from the first time you kissed, three years since he realized he loved you (three years minus 53 days before he said anything), 14 months since you’d figured out how to put a gun back together in the dark. Even in the most podunk little towns he’d find gorgeous bouquets and put together great meals in tiny kitchenettes; drive miles away to pick up a cake for Sam’s birthday or pepper motel rooms with festive streamers and silly string. Two quick, hard breaths through your nose to collect yourself and you finished the wrapping. That would have to be good enough.
           Sam was crouched in front of the fireplace with a bellows, a plucky little fire kicking into gear with his help. “All yours,” you called out, grateful your voice didn’t crack.
           “Thanks. It’ll only be a second.”
           He was right, and came back to you on the couch in only a few minutes with two wrapped bundles. You shyly handed him what you’d wrapped and took his.
           “Uh, Merry Christmas I guess,” Sam said. You noticed the edge of discomfort in his voice and were sickly grateful not to be alone in your tentativeness as you popped open the scotch tape holding the paper on the rectangular package. Before you’d uncovered it, Sam had his first gift unwrapped.
           “Nice! They had these at the hardware store?” he asked, snapping open the clamshell package on the cheap purple noise-cancelling earbuds you’d picked up.
           “I’m sure they’ll sound like they were made underwater, but I figured you could hide them pretty easily if you wanted to wear them at work, listen to your podcasts while you restock or whatever.”
           “That’s a really good idea.” He looked down at the headphones considerately for a beat.
           You pulled the paper off your present to reveal a notebook and two ballpoint pens. It had a leatherette flexible plastic cover that felt smooth under your fingertips and was about the size of a standard hardcover novel. You opened it to see inside, and a few photos dropped out.
           “I just—you didn’t have any—I can take them back if you want,” Sam stammered, but you heard him as if through those checkout-aisle headphones while your eyes blurred. These were pictures you hadn’t seen for years. The one on top of the loose stack in your lap was outside Bobby’s house. It felt like a lifetime ago, leaning over the railing of the small porch to kiss Dean as he stood on the ground in a sweaty t-shirt covered in engine grease. Under that was one you remembered used to be the background of an old phone, where you, Sam, and Dean huddled together in a booth at some bar you’d forgotten the name of in Montana that had girls dressed up as mermaids swim around in big tanks, part of the same theme that explained the blue fishbowl drink partly out of frame in Dean’s hands. There was one you didn’t recall with you and Dean stretched out on a nondescript motel couch, his arm protectively covering you as you coiled up into his side, both clearly asleep from the closed eyes and slightly parted lips. The last was a picture you hadn’t seen since the last time you went to Jody’s house; it had touched you then to see it hanging up on the wall, you carrying Dean piggyback while Sam clutched his knees laughing. It was the same day Claire had turned 16 and you had no idea why you’d needed to convince Dean you could carry him, but the whole thing had ended up with everyone rolling on the ground, grabbing at laugh-opened rib pains for what felt like blissful hours.
           You weren’t surprised at the silent tears that were pouring gently down your face, but wiped at them harshly with your sleeve so they wouldn’t drip. “Sam—” you croaked. “I don’t…I didn’t—thank you. How did you find these?”
           “They had an instant photo printer at the grocery store. I’ve had a flash drive with some stuff on it for a while.”
           You passed through each picture again, studying them like the gospel. It was almost hard to match the photos to the memories, memories having been replayed and multiplied and color-saturated in your mind over and over again, too big to fit into these little pieces of cardstock. But Dean was so beautiful, and you all looked so happy.
           “It’s supposed to help to write about how you’re feeling, so I thought…” Sam trailed off.
           “It’s perfect. I—thank you, Sam.” You met his eyes, stormy blue-green and taking on an amber reflection off of the fire. He looked nervous and almost guilty, like he had miscalculated and hurt you. Carefully slipping the photos back into the notebook, you set it on the table like it was made of crystal and threw your arms around Sam to tuck into him, knowing you were crying through his shirt but unable to stop. You realized you were murmuring thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou into the crook of his neck at the same time you felt the wetness of his tears onto your shoulder. Pulling him in tighter, you slunk back into the arm of the couch behind you. Sam slotted into the curve of your body, wrapping around your torso with powerful, gentle arms. His hair was silken when you began to stroke it, feeling his wracking sobs against your chest. It was impossible to gauge the amount of time it took for both of you to stop crying, skin slick and hot against each other on the old couch as your bodies hardened together like a mold. You felt dried out and sore and wouldn’t have pulled away from Sam if you’d had a gun to your head.
           “Man, and we were doing so well,” you hummed into Sam’s hair.
           “Were we?” Sam asked, and it was all you could do to laugh. Sam laughed too, the emotional and physical fatigue of it blending between you in the air. He adjusted his arm and you could feel the span of his hand across your lower back. The two of you sat there for a few more moments before you gathered up enough courage to let go of him.
           “Want to open the other one?”
           Sam nodded against your chest and slowly extricated himself, running a hand through his messed-up hair and rubbing his neck as he reached for the other present you’d gotten him. He tore through the paper unceremoniously and smiled down at the shoe repair glue and new boot laces. “You saw they split, didn’t you?”
           You smiled back at him. “Would’ve just gotten you a new pair of boots but, you know, late notice. Maybe this’ll buy you some time.”
           He handed you his second gift from the coffee table. Inside the foil-adorned wrapping paper were three bags of gummy worms.
-
Continue to Dreams, Chapter 4
Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!
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thewildwaffle · 3 years
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Hero & Villain (part 2)
A quick break from humans are weird, but here is a continuation of This Potstickers story. Thanks @nomadicsmurf for requesting this!
***
The suit makes the super. That’s true for both villains and heroes. Any old jokester off the street can do or stop crime, but if you really want to wreak havoc or save the day, it’s all about how you present yourself. Robbing a bank? You need a good suit. Catching a falling train before it crushes an animal shelter? You need a good suit. Finally making it to the grocery store? Well, you don’t need a good suit, but it certainly helps keep everyone at a distance and commands a certain level of recognition and fearful respect. If you’re a villain that is. The villain inspected two packages of chicken. They were from the deli and their weight and price were printed clearly on large white stickers. Not caring to make sure anyone was looking, because let’s be honest, everyone was trying to not look their way so as to avoid eye contact, the stickers were switched and the formerly more expensive package was placed in the cart. “What are you doing here?” a surprisingly familiar voice accused. The villain turned around to see the easily recognizable suit of the hero that had broken into the lair earlier. The villain shook the handle on the cart, making the contents slide around in the bottom for emphasis. “What does it look like I’m doing here?” The pair stared at each other, sizing each other up. Other customers kept peeking over to see what was going to happen while also trying to inconspicuously scatter to what they must have thought would be a safe distance if fighting broke out. Finally, with a sigh, the hero sighed and rubbed their temples. “Whatever. I guess you’re right. Again. Just… just don’t do anything… evil or whatever.” “Oh yes, because groceries are very evil,” the villain’s eyes rolled. “Aren’t you going to stop me from buying these potatoes to power my new evil plasma gun?” At that moment, the villain noticed the hero’s cart. The sarcastic smile melted into an annoyed frown. “Hey! What did I tell you when you left earlier?”
“What?” “Look at this junk!” The villain left their cart and started rifling through the hero’s. “Mr. Chuggles Cheese Puffs? Really? Fried chicken, white bread- you’ve already managed to squish this, by the way, giant bag of licorice, store brand bologna, baker’s dozen donuts, and is this… frozen cheese pizzas?” The three boxes were lifted out of the cart and presented pointedly as if to emphasize the disappointment. “You do know that the other toppings are free, right?” The hero grabbed the boxes and put them back into the cart. The villain sighed. “I did tell you to get real food, didn’t I? What, did your super hearing conveniently stop working?” “I’m just hungry, okay.” “Okay, I could just slap your stupid face. I knew you heroes were incompetent but dang.” The hero shot the villain a glare, which was parried by a soft shoulder shrug. “The first rule of grocery shopping, don’t go while hungry.” The hero’s stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. Dang, they hadn’t eaten since breaking into the villain's lair earlier and being fed those two potstickers. After they left, they’d been called away to help fight off a mob of angry mermen in a neighboring coastal city. “The second rule, always shop with a list based on the upcoming week’s recipes,” the villain continued and looked disdainfully into the hero’s cart. “What are you planning on cooking? May I recommend something with, oh I don’t know, vegetables?” It was then that they noticed the exhausted and lost look on the hero’s face. With a deep sigh, the villain pulled the hero’s cart over. “Here, come with me. I’ll help. Oh don’t look at me like that, I told you I’m a fine upstanding member of society now, remember? Plus, what's the fun of being a villain when your nemesis destroys themselves with a poor diet. That's my job, thank you very much. Except I would certainly be more creative about it.” It only took slightly more convincing before the odd pair were circling the store for miscellaneous ingredients as the villain helped to plan meals for the week. It also helped that the villain vaporized the hero’s already gathered foodstuffs. “I
know you’re busy, that’s probably why you’re like this anyway, you heroes are always thinking you’re such hot stuff for saving the day or what malarky, but you never stop to take care of yourselves. So we need foods you can make when you have downtime and then store for when you don’t. I’ve got a recipe for ‘Uncle Death Shadow's Super Dope Good Chicken.’ You can put it in the crockpot and have it cooking all day and it's ready when you get home. Easy peasy.” The store wasn’t crazy busy, which tends to happen later in the day and when people walk in and spy the suits. If it was just the hero, they’d probably swarm them and try to get an autograph or selfie with them or whatever, but pair that with the villain? People tend to make themselves scarce. That being the case, the wait for the checkout line was basically non-existent. “Good evening [villain name], how are you doing?” the girl behind the cash register chimed as they approached. “Just fine Stephanie, how about yourself?” the villain smiled at her while loading items on the belt. “You know each other?” The hero placed a divider between the two orders. “Uh, yeah, that happens when you actually go grocery shopping more than once a blue moon, go figure,” the villain scoffed. Stephanie chuckled softly and began to dutifully scan and/or weigh each item. The hero stood by the card reader to pay while the villain loaded the filled bags back into the cart. When prompted, the card was swiped. A series of two short beeps was the response. “Oh, sorry,” Stephanie frowned. “It says it was declined. Go ahead and try it again.” The card was swiped again. And again. Only beeps and a message on the screen saying ‘insufficient funds.’ “Uh,” Stephanie was clearly not comfortable but asked, “Do... do you want to try another payment method?” The hero patted themselves like they were checking their pockets, even though the suit didn’t have any. Or at least, it didn’t look like it did. Who knows with suit technology these days though. Pockets or not, the hero came up empty. “I… I don’t. This should work though, I, uh, I don’t know why it’s not. The money should be in my account.” “Well, well, well. Leave it to the Hero Association to mess up payday,” the villain all but sauntered over. “But then again, the old saying doesn't say that heroism pays. You know what does though?” The villain pulled out a Platinum Hoarders Cash Rewards card. “The saying is that crime doesn't pay. I don’t want your ill-gotten money.” “You wound me. Besides, I don’t think it’s really a matter of wanting, it looks more like a matter of nee-” A series of loud crashes and breaking glass interrupted. “HALT FOUL VILLAIN! YOUR DAYS OF TERRORISING THESE PEOPLE IS OVER!” All three of them looked to the front door where a menacing figure dressed in the gaudiest yellow, black, and red suit had flown in and knocked over at least two display stands and toppled a tower of honeydew. “Is that… Captain Inferno?” Stephanie had to stand on her tiptoes to see over the display behind her register. Her voice trembled slightly. Not much was known about the new and upcoming hero, but what was known wasn't always… stable. “How did he get out?” the villain grumbled. “That trap was stuck tight when I last checked it.” The hero turned to look, horrified, “you had someone else trapped in your lair?” “h, yeah, right after you left he broke in and got stuck. He was being a real jerk though, so I figured I’d deal with him later and left him there while I left to run errands and go shopping.” As the villain turned back to look at where Captain Inferno was storming forward, a fireball blasted past in a narrow miss. Screams erupted as the fire crashed into and spread along the shelf in the customer service department. The villain ducked into a defensive stance and glanced from the blazing shelf to the fiery hero himself. “Are you insane?!” From the way the fire hero nearly stalked forward, he might very well be. The villain really hoped he hadn’t gotten into any of the tox-N test vials that’d been stored in the lair. In retrospect, those
probably should have been moved to at least another room before leaving the hero - trapped or not- alone with them. “Am I insane?! You of all people have the audacity to ask me that? I know what you’ve been up to in that vile lair of yours and I’m going to make sure your latest project never sees the light of day, one way or another.” “Captain Inferno!” the hero's voice commanded both Inferno and the villain's attention. “What are you doing? You can’t just come in here and start blasting! I know you’re new, but this is completely unaccepta-” The sentence wasn’t able to be finished as Inferno shoved the hero back and into the end cap of the aisle with another loud crash. ‘Well, there you have it,’ the villain grimaced, ‘definitely got into the tox-N. He’s completely off his rocker. If he was ever on it, to begin with.’ Stephanie screamed and ducked behind the counter. Captain Inferno ignored them and the surrounding chaos he’d created and stepped toward the villain, heedless of the infuriated scowl he was being given. “How dare you-” another fireball was just barely side-stepped in time “-you are no hero. You disgrace the title by using it. And coming from me, that means something.” “Coming from you, it means absolutely nothing,” Captain Inferno nearly snarled. “But I’m going to make sure nothing else ever comes from you again.” The hero was back on their feet behind the villain but wasn’t quick enough to dodge the fiery blast from Inferno that had missed their intended mark once again. The villain had to rip their gaze away from the sight of the hero dropping to the ground and rolling in an attempt to extinguish the fire. The villain whipped back around. The temperature throughout the entire store felt like it dropped several degrees. How dare he hurt their hero. That was their job! Pure hatred leaked from the villain’s eyes as they landed back on the menacing opponent. “You've made a lot of mistakes today. Breaking into my lair, breaking out, following me here, being altogether a buffoon. But that? That was your last mistake.” Carefully, the villain shifted stance, arm tensing as it prepared to draw a weapon. “I’m going to disembark your intestines from... the rest of your body!” Captain Inferno frowned in confusion, then his sneer was right back. “Did…” he snickered. He actually snickered, “did you mean disembowel?” “YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT!” The villain dropped suddenly to the ground to avoid Inferno’s fire punch attack and pulled out a compact multi-canon. Before the deranged hero could regain balance, the villain fired up directly into his chest, sending him flying high and crashing back through the drywall and plaster. Green smoke trickled down from the Captain Flame-sized hole. All eyes were dancing between said hole and the still-standing villain. Slowly, half-stunned, [hero] rose from the ground, the only traces of fire that remained was a broken trickle of smoke flickering up from their smoldering cape. The villain turned and looked up into the hero’s face as a gloved hand was placed on still battle-tense shoulders. The rage there slowly ebbed a bit when they saw the hero was well enough to stand on their own. The villain shrugged off the hero’s hand. “Eh. Must have had it on the wrong settings. Still, it looks like it worked.” The villain pulled their card back out without saying anything else and slid it through the card reader. A single ‘ding’ sounded. Payment accepted. “Oh, wait. Dang. I should have just had Stephanie ring up my stuff too and paid for it all at once. Oops.” Stephanie slowly rose up from behind the counter. The hero just stood, gaping at the villain. The villain took a few seconds to notice. “What? Oh, are you thinking what I’m thinking? Because I agree, I probably should just take my stuff anyway, right? As payment for my troubles. Yeah. You know what? I’m gonna do that. I think I’ve earned it.” Before anyone else could process and react to that, the villain pulled their cart forward and started walking toward the exit. “Wait, wait! Hold on!” The hero finally shook off the stupor and rushed
to stop the villain. “What was that?” “Uh, grocery shopping. Of sorts, I guess, as the case may be.” They stared at each other for a moment. “Oh, you mean all that with… yeah yeah, duh. I believe that was what they call ‘self-defense.’ Why you ask? Weren't you paying attention?” “You can’t just leave, we need to wait for the police. This is going to need to be reported.” The villain stopped and made a face like they were considering it. “Mmmmm. Nah. Gross. If you want to stick around, be my guest. You can tell them how I stopped that maniac from coming at poor Stephanie over there. Just remember, if you call me a hero, I will deny such titles. After all, I was just doing what any fine upstanding citizen in my position would do. I’m humble now!” “Upstandin- you yelled that you were going to disembowel him.” “I never said that. Captain Fire Pants over there, and now also you, I guess, said ‘disembowel’.” The hero made a face that made the villain roll their eyes. “Here, watch this.” They leaned over to call out, “Stephanie?” The cashier waved shakily at them. “Do the cameras in here have microphones?” “Uh, no?” The villain straightened up to look smugly at the hero. “Well, there you go. All anyone is gonna see on the camera is me saving the day. All anyone here can testify that they heard Captain Inferno say something about disemboweling people. Gosh, I’m sure glad I was here to save the day.” Now it was the hero’s turn to roll their eyes. “You didn’t save the day. If anything, you created the circumstances to make this mess! We need to wait for the authorities so we can make a report. You’re not going anywhere. Also, you didn’t pay for your stuff.” “Oh, and are you going to hold me here? Forcibly detain me?” The villain made a mock shocked gesture with their hand on their heart. “I still have my multi-canon, mind you.” “Is that a threat?” “Uh, yeah. Again, pay attention.” “What happened to you being a fine upstanding citizen? You said it’s been, what? Four days? You’re already ready to drop that act?” The villain pushed past and once again headed for the exit. “Oh sue me. It's not like it’s hard to pay off another jury.” The hero stood there, fighting between going after and making them stay, or going back to make sure no one else was hurt. That and the fires still needed to be put out. Their delay was all the villain needed to getaway. “If you have any questions about those recipes or need any tips about meal prepping, let me know!” the villain yelled out from the hover speeder rising from the parking lot. A quick check in the rear-view mirror showed the hero going back in to help in the store. Another easy getaway. The villain settled back and sighed contentedly. "Well, I guess the bright side is that I don't need to deal with angry fire britches when I get back.” The smile faltered a bit. “Although, the fact that he got into my stuff means I’m gonna have a huge cleanup to deal with. He better not have trashed the entire place or I'll make sure I've got the right settings on my cannon next time." At the hover speeder's pace, the lair came into view in no time. Getting around town was so easy when the only traffic you have to worry about are high-rise buildings and flight-capable superheroes. After parking and gathering the grocery loot, the villain stopped to consider the bag of potatoes they'd ‘not bought.’ "You know," they muttered quietly, "I just meant it as a joke earlier, but maybe I could use these to power an evil plasma gun. After I make some hash browns first, of course."
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yuuri-nsane · 3 years
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Last in Stock
Fandom: Yuuri On Ice
Ship: Viktuuri [Viktor Nikiforov x Katsuki Yuuri]
T/W: nothing, apart from swears, mild dirty jokes and recurring mentions of nudity? BAHAH IM SORRY I PROMISE THERES NOTHING GRAPHIC THO TOTALLY SFW
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki wanted nothing more than to spoil his lovely poodle, Vicchan, and if that meant playing a game of Truth or Dare in a broken elevator to attain the likes of a beautifully pink chew toy, he was game.
[Inspired by a little rough imagine I posted a while ago]
a/n: honestly dont even ask me how this happened, happy holidays!! i wish you all a very merry chrysler, and if you dont celebrate, a very happy december!
oh and dont forget, constructive criticism is always welcome! dont hesitate to tell me what you think of my work, and also! please please  ple e a a s e  tell me if you see any spelling mistake or grammatical errors! THANK YOUUU!
also please note that this will be posted to my ao3 account: @yuuri_nsane
---
This was not how he'd planned his Wednesday evening, two days before Christmas, to go. No, not at all.
He thinks back to the start of the day, wondering how exactly he'd wound up sitting in a broken elevator, positioned in between the third and fourth floor, having just ended a dastardly game of Truth or Dare with quite an attractive man.
Said attractive man was not only attractive, but also very, very naked, save for the pair of patterned purple socks still clad on his feet. He also had the entirety of the Russian National Anthem scrawled on his left leg, as well as a black eye and terribly painted nails: a bright hot pink that shrieked against impossibly pale skin. Not to mention the taunting pastel dog toy he was now cuddling with.
Yeah, no. Yuuri was stuck in a predicament - one far too mortifying yet amusing for his own comprehension.
How in the ever-loving fuck had this happened?
---
Katsuki Yuuri was a good person.
He loved his mom, fed his dog, never showed up late to work.
He was good at recycling - always remembering to separate the cardboard tube and plastic lid of the Pringles' can he'd eat out of during a late night binge.
He watered his plants religiously, and no, it didn't matter that one out of the four of them were fake. He loved all his plants equally, thank you very much.
He held the door open for people no matter how far away or close they were, and even when they did that awkward little jog, he made sure to give them a warm smile.
He cleaned after himself, not at all tolerating any bits of scrap paper or crumbs left as residue from a busy night of studying and stress eating, no matter how tired he was.
He even cleaned up after other people! Like, for example, when his roommate and best friend, Phichit Chulanont, had eaten too much takeout and could barely move - Yuuri had offered to clean up for him. Phichit, with somewhat of a moral compass thanks to Yuuri, had protested at first; Yuuri had replied with a gentle 'tsk' and a 'go get some rest, you can make it up to me by doing the dishes tomorrow and the day after that'.
And so, to conclude, Katsuki Yuuri was a good person.
So why, why exactly was he here, in the middle of a bustling mall at 2pm, so close to being trampled on in the midst of hectic shopping, staring down an unfairly good-looking stranger, both their hands having met in the middle - the middle being a cutesy dog toy, the last one in stock.
Yuuri had naively left his Christmas shopping till the very last minute, much like everyone else present in the store. He hadn’t intended to buy Vicchan another toy, Lord knows he had plenty more at home and that Yuuri’s bank account was suffering because of it. But it was Christmas, and if anything, his dog deserved the world.
One more as a little festive gift wouldn't hurt, and it certainly brought Yuuri a step closer to giving Vicchan ‘the world’.
And so, he needed this.
And he was not going to give up that easily, despite the fact that the universe decided to make his life just a little bit harder, since the opposition made Yuuri slightly more weaker in the knees than he'd like to admit.
He winced in the bright white lights of the shop, the Christmas music blaring and irritating, no longer as heart-warming as Yuuri had found it when he first entered. The excessive Christmas decorations made him cringe - it was as if one of Santa’s elves had puked all over the place.
"Why," the other man began, his voice oozing with honey, with charming remnants of an accent. His soothing verbal confrontation had caught Yuuri’s undivided attention. His hand was inching closer to the catalyst of this hassling event and Yuuri barely fought the urge to slap it away (or hold it tenderly), "I believe I saw this first."
Oh, heck no.
Yuuri scooted closer and desperately tried to ignore the blooming heat on his cheeks, "Actually, I think I did."
This did nothing to deter to the other man, who with his height, easily stood over Yuuri and glared ever so passive aggressively.
"Well, okay then! Since we can’t decide who gets the damn toy, why don't we settle this like men?"
The black haired male stared frozen in shock. He was not looking for a fight, no matter how eager he was to spoil his little poodle with all the gifts he warranted and more.
"Uh, I don't- um, I'm not looking for trouble!" Yuuri ranted swiftly, slowly pulling his hand away from the dog toy.
So close, yet so far.
It wasn't like he couldn't fend for himself, God knows he was stronger than most people with the avid workouts he did to prepare for dancing recitals.
(And let me tell you, Yuuri has never skipped leg day. Ever.)
But at the same time, he knew it would be less than ideal if the young man spent his Christmas holiday sporting a black eye or something similar.
In response to his quick exclamation, the silver haired male beside Yuuri also retracted his hand, a look of bafflement evident on his chiselled features.
"I-You..." he started, looking at Yuuri far too intensely than the other male was admittedly comfortable with.
A few seconds later, he burst out into laughter, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling. He tilted his head back, arms grasping his middle.
He gasped for air, dramatically wiping a tear away, "You thought - you thought I wanted to fight for it! Like in some sort of - cliché romance where the two love interests fight for the main character's hand in marriage! Or something!" He babbled on, leaving Yuuri flustered and awfully ready to make a run for it.
In his fit of embarrassment, he raised voice, "Well, what the hell did you mean by 'settling this like men'! Of course I thought you wanted to get physical!"
Yuuri regretted the words almost as soon as they left his mouth.
"Physical? Well, I'll have you know I have a bit more class than that. I'd take you out on a date first, if anything."
The shorter male sputtered angrily, his blush not at all dying down, but instead doing the opposite. He glared at the other man, cursing his stupid pretty face and his stupid pretty voice.
And much to his luck, the blue-eyed villain pursued his words, snickering,  “Not to mention here of all places! Quite the voyeur, are we?”
Yuuri was a Good Person™ -  what the hell had he done to deserve this!
The taller male must've noticed Yuuri's increasing discomfort, and his teasing came to halt. He inclined his head in the direction of the damned chew toy and reiterated, "What I really meant was we could buy the toy and decide outside who gets to take it - like civilised human beings. You rest your case, I rest mine! Sound good?"
Yuuri pondered, before slowly nodding his head. It wsn’t like he had anything better to do, and he really wanted this dog toy. If only he knew the events that would follow soon after, he might’ve have ran fast and far before giving a real answer.
Fortunately, it seemed that both of them were just about finished with their shopping, the dog toy being last in each other's spontaneous list.
The light haired man took this as inclination to pluck the dog toy off the shelf, giving Yuuri a confirming look, and leading them both to the checkout.
They squeezed their way through the crowds; meandering, lifeless beings that swayed from aisle to aisle. Once they made it there, they payed for their own items separately, before splitting the money for the toy.
Afterwards, they made way to the elevator just two shops down, both agreeing to settle their dispute in the parking lot. They were on the top floor of the shopping centre, after all. Yuuri figured that the both of them would be more comfortable if they weren't surrounded by other people, who could very fairly judge them when arguing about the baby pink dog toy. Said baby pink dog toy had somehow found its way into Yuuri's grasp. If he wasn't such a good person maybe he'd have run away by now, pastel chew toy in hand. But damn it, he was, so he swallowed down the urge.
They stepped into the elevator, the shiny silver doors sliding apart before meeting in the centre. A sickening array of tinsel was hung to the upper corners, along with a few baubles hanging from them. Yuuri noticed the red ribbon twined in with the tinsel, and wanted to grimace at its tackiness.
The young dancer then turned to his companion, now realising how dangerous this situation actually was. Without thinking he blurted, "You're not a serial killer, are you?"
The other man raised an eyebrow. "Well no, but I wouldn't put it past myself to become one for the sake of that toy." He waved nonchalantly at Yuuri's hand, the chew toy dripping from his fingers.
Yuuri instinctively took a step back.
"Oh my God, I'm kidding!" The man chuckled, turning away and watching the numbers at the top of the elevator decrease gradually.
"So, uh, what do we do now?"
To this, the male looked back at Yuuri, and replied simply, "I come up with a sob story to convince you to give me the toy!"
Yuuri pursed his lips, unimpressed. He was tired but by God, was he so not above from entertaining the notion. "Okay, then. Go ahead. After you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."
He was met with a smirk, a smirk far too devious for Yuuri's liking. Before the other man could attempt to pull at Yuuri’s heart strings, however, the room jarred and the two men in the elevator were sent tumbling to the ground.
"What just happened."
It came out more like a statement than a question, a robotic string of words that spewed from Yuuri's lips involuntarily.
"I think...I think the elevator just...broke down."
They stared at each other for a moment, and the next words came flying about - who said them exactly left a mystery.
"Oh, fuck."
---
They spent the first five minutes panicking, calling for help in such an inglorious manner that Yuuri was sure they'd both lose their voices. They spent the next few moments afterwards checking their phones, and resentfully realising that somehow, there was no reception. And that, of course, since the universe seemed to love good ol' Yuuri, that his phone was at a sad two percent.
His company's was no better, where his phone was at a fifteen, to which the taller man responded with a sheepish, 'I forgot to charge it last night too.'
They realised then that they had no choice but to wait until help miraculously found its way to them, and so they indulged in the waiting game.
The next hour or so consisted of the two bantering back and forth, 'sob stories' passed around like old folk's tales. They bickered and still, their argument over the dog toy was left unsettled, and Yuuri had to admit, it was kind of fun.
Time had whizzed past, and soon enough it was already 4:37pm. The other man spoke up suddenly, sat opposite Yuuri on the cold, hard ground of the elevator. His skin was painted in the gold of the old light that flickered above them, his blue eyes sparkling impressively. Yuuri wanted to look away, yet simultaneously couldn't find it in him to.
"I just realised that I don't know your name. And you don't know mine! Chances are, we'll be spending all night together," he wiggled his eyebrows. Yuuri choked in response, the other male continuing, "so let me introduce myself! Viktor Nikiforov!" He held out his arm out, humbly awaiting.
Yuuri clasped it gently, mumbling a near silent, "Yuuri Katsuki."
Viktor reacted with an all too cheery, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Yuuri!"
They held hands for almost a second too long, until Yuuri forced himself to pull away.
The two men once again decided to engage in such chatter, bordering small talk. They joked and teased, each finding out more and more about the other.
Yuuri now knew that Viktor Nikiforov was four years older than he was, a good twenty-six, and had a lovely little poodle he called Makkachin, or Makka for short. (He guessed that she was the reason for Viktor's desperate need for the dog toy.) He was Russian, and moved to the states just a few weeks before his nineteenth birthday. His favourite food was Borscht, a beef stew mixed with all sorts of vegetables, and that he almost burnt his kitchen down once upon a time trying to make it. And, to Yuuri's surprise, Viktor was a choreographer for all sorts of dances, his specialty being ballet and contemporary.
In response to this sudden spout of information, Yuuri had offered his own age and his dog's name and breed. He also told Viktor that his parents were from Japan, but moved to Detroit to start a hot springs. He explained too, that his favourite food was Katsudon, a pork cutlet rice bowl, and that his mother made the best of them.
Yuuri even mentioned his own career in dancing, to which Viktor had reacted to with an animated widening of his eyes and a contemplative 'really?'.
He also swears that Viktor had checked him out soon afterwards, but maybe that was just his mind playing tricks on him.
Soon enough, boredom got the best of the two, having spent the last three hours doing nothing but lounge around. Their phones were now completely out of battery (no, Yuuri didn't spend the last two percent playing Candy Crush-); they were hungry and unentertained, and it didn't take long for Viktor to begin whining.
Immediately, he shot up, forcing Yuuri into a frightened jolt.
"Sorry, sorry - I was just thinking, since I'm bored and you're bored, we should play Truth or Dare!"
Yuuri stared, "Really? Your first thought was child's play?"
"Aw, please! Yuuri, don't be like that! I'm literally dying of boredom-"
"Stop being so dramatic, Viktor."
Viktor ignored him, "-and you know what! We could settle this," he gestured rapidly to the dog toy, where it lay in between them, holy and seemingly unattainable.
Yuuri had never been more stupid to have asked, "What do you mean?"
"Well, we play Truth or Dare, and whoever forfeits first means that the other gets the toy! And bragging rights!"
He crawled over to Yuuri, too close for comfort, and drawled, "Pretty please?"
Yuuri, feeling scandalised and suddenly like a hormonal prepubescent teen, pressed himself up against the wall, looked away and squeaked a feeble, "Okay, fine!"
He felt regret seep into his soul for the umpteenth time that day.
---
He sighed.
Yuuri Katsuki was a good person.
He was a good person and he knew so much.
And so he wondered again, quite bitterly, why and how the planets had aligned in such a way to quite literally fuck him over in this elevator, where the most handsome man he'd ever seen was now lying in front of him, naked and quite the hot mess - a result of playing Truth or Dare.
Viktor, being the proud little shit he was, had chosen nothing but Dare - whether to egg Yuuri on or likewise.
Yuuri had wasted the pink nail polish he'd just bought for his sister Mari in response: his first dare being a cheap jab at the man's dignity. Though, it did little to do so, as Viktor painted his nails happily, albeit messily, and wore his paint job loud and proud.
After that, he had dared the man to write the Russian National Anthem on his leg with a black sharpie, one he’d conveniently carried around in his coat’s breast pocket. Viktor had done so entirely without complaint, going as far as to showcase his leg in a fucking split.
The dares that followed were mild, if not slightly concerning - Yuuri having dared Viktor to lick the floor, to pluck the hanging tinsel from the corners of the elevator and stuff it in his mouth, to try and do a handstand, to stand on one foot for two minutes and so on.
Watching Viktor, physical perfection on legs, trying to stuff a wad of sparking red tinsel down his throat was more amusing than Yuuri cared to say, and it came to show that the taller man was just as human as he was, despite his uncanny appearance to that of a greek god.
Although Yuri didn't even want to recall how Viktor had ended up wearing nothing but his socks, and even the nasty black eye now splotching across his fair skin.
He was more than happy to block that out from his memory.
Because of this, he’d stuck religiously to choosing Truth, not at all willing to risk whatever was left of his self-respect, in fear that Viktor would take no pity on him and get his revenge.
In fact, the worst question Viktor had asked him was,
"What's your biggest turn on?"
And Yuuri, being the sad, and easily embarrassed person that he was, had panicked and briskly declared, "Katsu...don?", his confidence soon blinking out like a candle flame halfway through saying so - it was evident in his statement all but becoming a gratifying question.
It was 6:29pm, and Yuuri's sure that help was on its way - for he could hear the bustling of what he assumed to be mall security outside the elevator. He wondered briefly, how worrying it would be for the two men to step out the elevator, one untouched, and the other looking as though they'd flushed themselves down the toilet. Repeatedly.
Yuuri kept his gaze away from Viktor and his...glory. He scowls, remembering how Viktor won the dog toy fair and square: Yuuri having refused to carry on playing after Viktor's little strip tease. Or whatever the hell it was.
He sighs another sad sigh, shaking his head and wishing for oblivion.
---
It was 7:01pm, when the elevator doors were finally opened. Yuuri and Viktor were helped up, blankets wrapped securely around the both of them - specifically Viktor, for obvious reasons.
Security were nothing short of polite but it was safe to say that when they managed to open the elevator doors, the last thing they were expecting was a 5'9" Russian man to come stumbling out, naked and, oh yes, naked.
They were ushered to a nearby bench on the fourth floor, surrounded by nearby onlookers who were whispering amongst themselves. The mall security had asked them politely to wait by, probably to offer some sort of compensation, Yuuri expected.
They sat in silence: hungry and tired - most definitely ready to go home, after a lovely evening spent stuck in the elevator for roughly five hours.
Viktor clutched at the dog toy and his blanket - his clothes and plastic shopping bag resting rumpled on his lap. Yuuri kept his head ducked down, listening pathetically to Mariah Carey and her silky singing echoing in the mall.
All I want for Christmas, Yuuri pondered spitefully: beyond mortified by the near nude man beside him and his demeaning loss when playing Truth or Dare, is to dig my own grave!
Suddenly, Viktor spoke up besides Yuuri.
"I was thinking-"
"No! Viktor, when you think, it ends badly!" Yuuri exclaimed, turning to point at Viktor's general being and the chew toy that he held loosely, "that was traumatic."
"It's nothing bad! Or at least I don't think it is..." Viktor helpfully supplied.
Wait, was as he, blushing?
"...What is it then?"
"Do you, uh...thinkthatVicchanwouldliketohaveaplaydatewithMakka?"
"Huh?"
Viktor coughed, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck. His blanket fell from his shoulders and rested at his waist. Yuuri kept his gaze from trailing down, and could've sworn he was going to have a heart attack.
"I just...uhm, do you want to, maybe, uh...organise a play date for our dogs, or something?"
Yuuri straightened up immediately.
"You, you don't have to say yes! I'm sorry! I-I get that you're probably really busy, since Christmas is in like, two days, and you might have better things to do than go out with me - I mean, go out with my dog, wait, no! I mean-" Viktor rambled on, his face getting redder by the minute.
Yuuri, being the good, merciful, and apparently brave that person he is, disregarded all rational thought and leaned in to kiss Viktor on his cheek; a sweet press of his lips to soft skin that made the dark haired male tingle all over.
He pulled away, noting the relentless flush that started from Viktor's hairline, all the way down to his toned chest. And along with that, the older man's abrupt silence. He stared quizzically at Yuuri, reaching to touch the cheek that had been kissed.
"I'd love for our dogs to have a play date. But on one condition," Yuuri teased, a devilish grin making its way into his face, "you take me on that date, okay, Viktor Nikiforov? We can't afford to forget about class, now can we?"
He was bombarded with a humiliated shriek: a high-pitched squeal that left Viktor's lips, which stringed along like music to the younger man's ears, and a promise for a date - both for his dog and himself.
This was not how he'd planned his Wednesday evening, two days before Christmas, to go. No, not at all.
But he certainly wasn't complaining. Anymore, at least.
---
BONUS:
“I’ll see you later, Viktor! Um, merry Christmas! Oh, yeah and Monday, alright, Vicchan and I will see you then! Call me!” Yuuri all but whispered hastily, carrying his shopping and Viktor’s heart away with him to the other side of the parking lot.
Luckily, their cars were in the same district, and the Russian watched dreamily as Yuuri made his way to his car, and he himself got into his. He giggled bashfully, glad he forgot to go Christmas shopping last week. 
What were the chances that he’d have ended up spending five hours with such an attractive and certainly interesting man, in the small confines of a horribly decorated elevator?
He smiled softly, making one last assessment of his things. His watch, shoes, shirt, pants - it was all here! Along with his shopping bag, Yuuri’s number and-
Wait.
Where...
Where was the dog toy?
Viktor didn’t enough time to fully wrap his head around the disappearance of the chew toy, before he heard maniacal laughter, and a dark blue Volkswagen blurring past. The car’s windows were rolled down, an insulting pastel pink lolling out slightly.
“Finders, keepers!”
A mortified gasp.
“Yuuri!”
Fin
---
Taglist:
@maximoffzinha @the-immortal-thylacine @holaboiiiiis
87 notes · View notes
writing-mermaid · 3 years
Text
This is the night, it’s a beautiful night and we call it bella notte
Summary : When just a tiny push was what missed to make Sonny ask the new SVU detective out.
Pairing : Sonny Carisi x reader
Warnings : None I think
Word Count : 3 721
Author’s note : For the Anonymous who asked for the prompt : “Somewhere deep down, there’s good in you. Pretty far down”. I hope you will like it. Slightly inspired by Lady and the Tramp at some point. Pick a prompt or two or three and send an ask and a character or you can ask for stories with original characters  Don’t forget that feedback is appreciated and really important.
Song of the title : Bella Notte - Ruby Summer
Masterlist
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“Somewhere deep down, there’s good in you. Pretty far down”, detective Y/N Y/L/N says, looking at the teenage girl at the other side of the table in the interrogation room.
  The dark haired, tanned skin girl wears a NYPD hoodie and a pair of sweatpants that the detective in front of her gave her when they both arrived at the precinct two hours ago, in replacement of her ripped one. She was covered in blood and bruises.
  “Listen Sira, if you don’t tell me what happened and who did this to you, I can’t help you. I can even help you to find your family again and make sure that something like that doesn’t happen to you again. So, tell me. Like I said, I know that there is good in you, even if it’s deep down. If you help me, I can talk to my ADA and we can find a solution if you don’t want to go back with your parents. I’d do anything to help you but in exchange, you have to help me.”
  Sira looks at Y/N. She’s pretty, she thinks, with her Y/E/C eyes and her mid-long Y/H/C hair, her pink lips, and she looks brave too, what happened to me would never had happened to her. On the other hand, Y/N wants to slap herself, she referred to Carisi as “my” ADA, instead of “the precinct’s ADA”, feeling her cheeks blush. But it seems that Sira didn’t notice and she’s glad to have her back on two-way mirror, so nor her captain or the ADA would have noticed her slight blush at the mention of him.
  “I’m starving”, Sira finally states after a few minutes. “I want to eat, and then, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“Well, that’s a first step”, Y/N says, rising from her chair. “What do you want ? Chicken ? Ham ? Tuna ? Veggie ?”
“Tuna, with a Cherry Coke please.”
“I’ll be back in ten minutes”, Y/N tells her, taking her notebook with her and exiting the room.
  Meanwhile, in Olivia’s office, the captain and the ADA are looking inside of the interrogation room, watching, and listening to Y/N trying to convince Sira to tell her what they need.
  “She’s good”, Sonny turns to his former captain when he sees Y/N looking at Sira, who seems to be thinking about the detective’s offer.
“Why do you think I hired her, Carisi ? Not because she’s good looking. I mean, she’s a beautiful young woman, but that’s not the reason why I hired her”, Olivia tells him.
“Where did you say she worked before ?”
“Interpol.”
“Why would an Interpol agent leave her post to work for NYPD ?”, Sonny questions.
“I don’t know”, Olivia sighs, “Maybe she was only tired of it”, she shrugs.
“I’ll be back in ten minutes”, they hear Y/N say to Sira, making them looking back in the interrogation room, where they see Y/N getting up from her chair, her notebook in her hands.
  Olivia turns off the intercom when Y/N opens the door.
  “It seems that you managed to convince her to tell us things.”
“Well, I can be very persuasive apparently”, Y/N answers to her chief. “I’ll probably need your help for her when she tells me what we need to know”, she adds, turning to Sonny. “I have to go for a few minutes, she’s hungry and I promised her a tuna sandwich and a Cherry Coke.”
“You should eat something too”, Liv tells Y/N, removing her glasses and sitting behind her desk.
“Yes mom”, Y/N replies, smiling playfully at Olivia.
  Y/N exists her captain’s office and goes to her desk to take some money in her wallet, Sonny looking at her from the inside of Olivia’s office.
  “You should go with her, instead of watching her from afar. As she said, she’ll need you for Sira. And you should eat. I’m sure she would be glad of the presence of her ADA”, Olivia says, smiling to herself, insisting on the “her ADA” to give Sonny a hint.
“See ya later Captain”, Sonny grabs his suite jacket before taking the same way Y/N took two minutes before.
“Those two, not even seeing the oblivious”, Olivia sighs, watching Sonny jogging towards the elevators.
  A few minutes later, and thanks to his long legs, Sonny manages to catch Y/N at the store down the street.
  “Hey, do you mind if I join you ?”, he asks her, after he spots her in the snack area.
“Not at all”, she smiles up at him, hands full of food. “Sonny can you take a can of Cherry Coke up there please ? My hands are kinda occupied and I’m too tiny to grab one.”
“Sure, let me help you”, he says, taking her burden, in his big hands after grabbing some food for himself. “Do you intend to nourish a regiment ?”, he playfully questions, looking at all the food Y/N took.
“I don’t know how long Sira stayed without eating, so I might get carried away with all of this”, she motions to the food. “But I rather have too much than not enough.”
“My treat”, he says when they reach the checkout and Y/N takes her wallet out of her purse.
“You don’t have to”, she looks up at him. “I can pay for my food and Sira’s.”
“Let me buy it for you, it’s my pleasure.”
“Dominick Carisi, you’re too good to be true”, Y/N says, taking a shopping bag out of her purse to put the supplies in it.
  Sonny takes the bag of food from Y/N’s hand, his fingers grazing hers, and without knowing it, they both feel their cheek heat up at the light touch of their skins.
  “Do ya think she’ll tell you want you want to know ?”
“I hope so. I just want to help her, she seems lost and she needs us to help her.”
“Us ?”, Sonny raises one of his eyebrows.
“Yes, I thought that, as you are the ADA, you could help me with her, or help her with me. I… I just…”
“I see what you mean, and for the record, I’ll help you, don’t worry”, he smiles down at her.
“Thank you, Sonny.”
  Back at the precinct, the detective, followed by the ADA, goes back in the interrogation room.
  “Here for you”, Y/N says, handing the food to Sira.
“Thanks”, the teenager takes the sandwich from the Y/H/C haired woman in front of her, rips open the package and starts to devour it, barely taking time to chew.
“Slow down, you’ll choke”, the detective tells her protégée, putting down the can of Cherry Coke in front of her, along with a bottle of water.
“Sorry, I was hungry, haven’t eat for three days”, the teenage explains, her mouth full of bread and tuna, while Sonny and Y/N take a sit in front of her.
“Sira, I’d like to introduce you to someone. This is Dominick Carisi, the Assistant District Attorney I told you about.”
“Hey !”, she stops eating for a few seconds, just to gulp her Coke. “He’s cute, I understand better when you said he’s your ADA, and why you blushed”, Sira shoots at Y/N, with a sly grin on her face, looking at the two grown up in front of her turning red.
“No, I… Hum… When I said my ADA, I meant the precinct’s ADA. He’s a former cop, he used to work here before I arrived, so he knows everyone pretty well”, Y/N explains to put up a front.
“So Sira, detective Y/L/N told me you probably will have something to tell us. In exchange, as she said, we can help you. This is particularly important to be sure that what happened to you, never happened to anyone else.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you”, the teenager says.
  And she told them everything she knows. The name of her pimp, how many girls he has, what he makes them do and the way he treats them when they refuse. By the end of the day, Y/N has enough information to arrest the man.
  “Well, it should be enough to arrest him and lock him up for a while”, she tells Sonny after Sira left with a social worker that will take her in a shelter for the night, while she’s walking back to her desk in order to collect her things.
“You did a good job there Y/N.”
“Thanks.”
“Wanna have a drink ?”
“No, not tonight, I’m tired, and to be honest, I would have rather go with the others and arrest that bastard, but Liv said I earned my rest, so I’m going home”, she smiles up at him.
  It’s now or never, Sonny thinks, gathering his courage.
  “Y/N ?”
“Yes, Sonny ?”
“Would you like to have dinner with me on Friday night ?”
“Dominick Carisi, are you asking me out ?”
“Yes, I’m totally asking you out.”
“I’d love to”, she answers. “Friday night, I finish at six. I’ll text you my address and you pick me around seven ?”
“Sounds good to me”, he answers.
“See you on Friday night then”, she kisses his cheek and leaves the SVU floor, a smile on her face, leaving behind her a grinning Sonny, who reaches with his hand the spot when she kissed him.
“Are you okay Carisi ?”, Olivia asks, coming behind him.
“More than okay”, he answers, putting his suit jacket on one shoulder and going out, humming.
  Friday night seems not to come fast enough for Sonny, who barely had a glimpse on Y/N for the rest of the week as she’s busy with the victims and Sira’s testimony. She made an amazing work, what he mentioned to the court, while she was trying to reach all the families of those girls, kidnapped to serve as sex slaves. Most of the families were glad to find their children again, some other were unreachable, but he knew that Y/N wouldn’t abandon those girls until she finds a solution for the last one.
  “I’ll never be out of her”, she complains to Amanda, who’s finishing some paperwork at her desk.
“You’ve got something planed tonight ?”, the blonde detective asks her friend.
“Yep, going on a date with Carisi”, Y/N answers, making Amanda spitting the water she’s drinking.
“What ?!”, she says, wiping her chin and moping her desk. “You’re freaking kidding me ?”
“I don’t.”
“Jeez, he finally made his mind up to ask you out, was about time. I was tired to see him staring at you with blankly, and even if you didn’t notice it yourself, you definitely had a thing for the guy too.”
“Thing is, I’ll never be out and ready for him to pick me at seven… It’s almost six thirty…”, Y/N sighs.
“Okay, you know what, give me your size and there’s a store down the street, I’ll pick a dress for you, something that could do with your faux leather jacket and the shoes you’re wearing, and I’ll text Carisi to take you here instead of at your apartment. I’ll help you get ready and I’ll even help you to finish that case. Which girl do you have to finish with ?”
“Sheena Cassady, she’s the last one, I couldn’t reach her parents yet. I don’t understand if they don’t want to see her or don’t want her back or if there is another reason, but I don’t want to give up on her.”
“Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be back to doll you up for Carisi. Don’t worry, I have some make up in my desk, just in case.”
  Y/N just nods, not really knowing how to stop or answer Amanda who rushes outside of the precinct. She sighs and returns to her work, still trying to reach for Sheena’s parents. After ten minutes of tone in her ear, she decides to stop, feeling bad for Sheena. The detective gets up from her desk and goes straight to the break room, where Sheena is waiting for her to know if she has news from her family.
  “Hey Sheena, I hope you’re okay”, Y/N says, entering the room.
“It’s getting a little long detective Y/L/N, did you manage to call my folks ?”, she asks.
“I’m sorry sweetie”, the older woman apologizes. “It seems that I can’t have them on the phone. I tried the neighbors too, but nothing. I’ll have to call social services again for you, and I’m sorry.”
“That’s alright, don’t worry, I knew that they would probably don’t want me back”, Sheena shrugs.
“Okay, I’m back”, Amanda shouts from behind, going to the break room. “And I’ve got the perfect dress for you”, she adds, pulling a wine-red dress, with a fake leather brown belt. “I know you have a pair of black ballet flat in one of your drawers. Just a little make up, and he’ll fall at your feet.”
“I heard you had a date with the cute ADA”, Sheena smiles at Y/N.
“Yes, I do, I hope this will be okay.”
“I’m sure it’ll be. He seems to be a decent guy”, the teenage adds.
“He’s more than decent”, Amanda answers. “Hey Sheena, wanna help me doll Y/N up ?”
  The young girl nods and rises from the couch, a smile on her face, following the two detectives in the bathroom, picking up Y/N shoes on the way. A few minutes later, Sonny, dressed in his blue three-piece suite, goes out of the elevator, looking around for Y/N, or at least Amanda to tell her where the Y/H/C haired woman is.
  “What’s up Carisi ? I heard you got yourself a date with Miss Interpol”, Fin greets him, clasping his shoulder. “Be nice to her, she’s a great girl.”
“I know Fin, don’t worry I’ll treat her well”, Sonny responds to his former coworker and friend.
“Great, you’re here !”, Amanda states coming back to the bathroom, Sheena on her heels.
“What are you doing here ?”, Sonny asks his friend.
“Me ? Just playing fairy godmother for your date”, she just replies.
“You’re playing fairy godmother, you ? That’s new. Not a role I would see you in”, Sonny mocks her, but his voice fades when Y/N passes the door of the bullpen, leaving him speechless.
“We should have made a princess out of her before, I’ve never seen Carisi shutting up that long before”, Fin says, from behind the still silent ADA. “You look stunning Y/N”, he adds, moving towards his coworker to have a better view of her.
  He’s right, Sonny thinks, she’s stunning. Rollins really worked well.
  “Hey.”
“Hey. You look, magnificent.”
“Thanks Sonny. You don’t look that bad either”, Y/N smiles at him.
“I booked a table in an Italian restaurant if it’s okay for you.”
“Perfect. Have a nice night everyone”, she waves at her colleagues, before taking the tall and  handsome Italian’s arm.
  From the precinct to the restaurant, Sonny acts like a real gentleman with Y/N, who tries to remember if she already has been treated that well by a man once in her life. Sonny is perfect, holding the door, letting her walk in or out before him, pulling her chair once they’re settled at their table.
  “May I ask you something ?”, Sonny questions while they’re eating their pasta plates.
“Sure”, Y/N answers, taking a bite of her pasta dish, and humming in delight.
“Why did you leave your last job ?”
“I felt like, something wasn’t here anymore. A sense of weariness. I was tired. Tired of being constantly chasing after bad guys.”
“Well that didn’t really change”, Sonny laughs.
“You’re absolutely right about that. I was never home, I didn’t really have a social life, couldn’t really see my family, couldn’t have a love life”, she adds, looking up at him. “So, after seven years, I decided to resign. I wanted stability, to see my family more often, finally settle down somewhere, have a pet, find someone to spend my life with, maybe getting married and have children. It was hard for me, I didn’t have the impression to be useful. When I left, I took some vacations, because I really needed it. I came back here, looked for a place to live and one day, my former boss sent me an email with a job opportunity, saying that SVU needed a detective and that I would be perfect for the job. And to be honest I love it, I finally have the impression to do something good, to be useful.”
“And he was right”, Sonny states, “you’re damn good with the victims, the way you investigate. How you managed to convince Sira, Sheena and all the other girls to testify. How it made possible to dismantle that network. You’re an amazing cop.”
“Thanks Sonny, but to be honest, I would never have managed to convince Sira if you refused to help me.”
“I can’t refuse you anything”, he blurts, taking another bite of his plate, before realizing what he just said. “I mean…”
“That’s okay Sonny, I’m not going to demand you to offer me a ring just because you gave me a compliment”, Y/N says, taking a sip of the Italian wine in her glass, watching Sonny turning red. “Can I taste those ?”, she suddenly points at his plate.
“Sure, be my guest.”
  Y/N leans a little over her plate to sink her fork in Sonny’s, who wraps a bit of his own spaghetti on his fork. Neither of them notice that one particularly long spaghetti wrapped itself on both forks. And the particular way this restaurant places people, helps a lot in what happens next. As they both eat the spaghettis, musicians come around, distracting them from looking at each other, the spaghetti disappearing in both their mouths, until their lips are pressing against each other. They both move back, looking at each other with a small smile, and start to eat again, in a comfortable silence.
  After dinner, Sonny takes Y/N to an Italian neighborhood party in East Village. The street is full of people, music and there are some attractions here and there. A carrousel, a Ferris wheel, a band playing music and people dancing around the square. Fingers intertwined, Sonny and Y/N, wander through the fair, their eyes trying to watch everything. With the warmth of the evening, both of them left their jackets in Sonny’s car, enjoying the mild temperatures.
  “Do you want to dance ?”, Sonny asks, after a moment, pointing at the people dancing and at the band.
“I’d love to”, Y/N answers.
  He grabs her hand and leads her to the improvised dancefloor in the middle of the street. Sonny takes Y/N’s right hand in his left and put his right hand on her waist, while Y/N lays her left hand on his shoulder. As the band starts to play a very familiar tune, they start to sway, looking at each other, a small smile on their lips.
  Oh, this is the night, it's a beautiful night
And we call it bella notte
Look at the skies, they have stars in their eyes
On this lovely bella notte
  Sonny spins her around, while the two singers continue to sing the main theme from Lady and the Tramp. When Y/N is facing Sonny again, she moves closer to him and wraps her two arms around his neck, laying her head on his shoulder, letting the words of the song lull her, wishing that this moment never ends.
  Side by side with your loved one You'll find enchantment here The night will weave its magic spell When the one you love is near
For this is the night And the heavens are right On this lovely bella notte
  At some point, she rises her head and Sonny kisses her tenderly. At the end of the song, Sonny takes her hand back in his and they leave the now crowded dancefloor.
  “What’s next ?”, she asks with bright eyes.
“Well detective Y/L/N, what do you think about this ?”, he says, showing her the Ferris wheel.
“I think this is a very good idea ADA Carisi”, she smiles at him, pulling him towards the merry-go-round.
  Sonny buys two tickets, and they are seated in the cabin, enjoying the view as the wheel goes up. When it stops at the top, they can see a few neighborhoods, and look up at the stars.
  “This night is perfect”, Y/N says, leaning into Sonny’s side. “I don’t want it to be over. I’m so glad you finally asked me out.”
“I’m glad I did it”, Sonny answers, putting his arm around her shoulder, his chin on her head. “I should have asked you long before if I knew this would be so perfect.”
  After another hour spent at the fest, and after two gelatos, Sonny brings Y/N back home.
  “This was the best date I’ve ever have”, Y/N says when Sonny stops in front of her building’s entrance, his car parked a little lower down the street. “Thank you, Sonny.”
“Me too”, he replies, scratching the back if his neck. “Does this mean I can have hope for a second date ?”
“I’ll gladly go out with you again Dominick Carisi, a second time, and a third time and a fourth time”, she pulls him down to her by his tie, her lips crashing on his.
  She releases his tie when he kisses her back, wrapping her arms around his neck, to pull him further into her, while his hands find their way to her hips. When they pull away, lips swollen, Y/N smiles up at him one last time, before climbing the few stairs to her building’s front door.
  “I’m waiting for your call ADA”, she playfully says.
“And I’ll call you detective”, he answers, on the same tone.
  Y/N blows a kiss and closes the door. When the door closes, Sonny goes back to his car, almost dancing on the way, already planning his next date with Y/N. He is more than happy to finally have been able to ask out the woman of his dreams and to have make it the start of something that he knows he’ll cherish for the rest of his life.
Taglist :
@bastard-man-barba​, @storiesofsvu​
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k7l4d4 · 3 years
Text
Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 7 Part 2
Hello all, I’ve returned for another piece of Midnight Striga! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!
Scowling to himself, Hunter ducked away from the human. He… wasn’t supposed to be in Bonesburough, not really, but it was one of the few days off he got, so he decided to make the most of it with some research. Events had shifted. What before everyone would’ve laughed off as some kind of joke, or the words of a deluded fool, were proven true when a group of human rogues decided to raze the Covention, using magic!! Hunter wouldn’t deny, he burned to know how they did it, how did they overcome the biological limitation? If ever questioned, he could and would easily decry it as Wild Magic, something to be locked away for the heresy against the Titan it was… but in private, he craved that power for himself. Not for glory, or conquest, no! He wasn’t an idiot.
He wanted to be normal.
“Stupid human, thinking I would buy a cheap excuse like that.” He muttered. It burned, it truly did, that she somehow thought he would fall for a ploy, even if she had no clue who he truly was. ‘The Emperor’s most trusted agent, The Golden Guard himself!’ He puffed out his chest, smirking in pride at what he’d accomplished. And it WAS an accomplishment. Anyone who knew the truth of his situation would no-doubt cry about how he had it all handed to him by his uncle, and if they did he would have no problem laughing at the fools, behind their backs of course, no need to start a fight when he could finish one.
For as long as he’d been in his Uncle’s care, he’d worked and slaved to obtain his position. He’d studied, trained, honing his body and his mind to be the best. If someone crossed him, he found ways of getting even, and without even having to get his own hands dirty half the time. Seriously, he understood the need to maintain the Coven’s image of being the best of the best, but most of them were just stupid!! ‘Even Clawthorne.’ He scornfully smirked to himself. He was ecstatic at seeing the cocky witch being taken down a peg, especially by her own hand. The fact that it showed the Isles what she really was, a worm and a cheat who slinked her way to the top, made it all the sweeter, and not to mention that her actions unleashed the most dangerous Wild Witch in generations into the populace. He knew that’s not how it actually worked, but it was a convenient lie that people would reach of their own free will, and would make an excellent tool for getting her out of the way when she finally outlived her usefulness.
But that’s besides the point. He shook his head lightly, clearing his thoughts as he leaned against a bookshelf. The human was here, in the library, and that was an opportunity he wouldn’t let pass. He wouldn’t stalk her or anything, but he’d be watching, waiting, and listening to see just what exactly she intended for the Isles. The mad laughter of those maniacs who had been brought in echoed in his ears, his eyes hardening into stone at the memory. If she turned out to be a threat, he would destroy her. Even if he never gained the secret to the humans’ ability to wield magic, he would gladly sacrifice it to protect the Isles. He swore it.
“This place is both amazing, and kind of ridiculous.” Luz commented, having put aside any thoughts of that rude guy from before, determined to make this a good day. She ducked under a book flying overhead, glaring at it as it shrieked at her. “I wonder if anyone would be willing to help me navigate this place.” She murmured, rubbing her head at another near miss.
“I believe we can help with that!” A voice that seemed to mix charming and cheese together in a corny mess sounded out behind her. Turning around, Luz raised an eyebrow at what she saw. Two Witches, a male and a female, and by her guess twins, if the incredibly strong resemblance and similarity in age was anything to base her decision off of. The two were standing back to back, the boy shooting a cocky grin that he probably thought made him look “so cool!” beneath his deep green hair and golden eyes, his apparent sister tilting her head in a different direction, gazing off in thought, a mysterious look in her eyes.
Luz turned on her heel, already done with these two. “Yeah, if you’re trying to flirt with me, I prefer homemade food and some shopping,” She said, not watching as the two collapsed in shock. “Also, you guys kind of come across as desperate.” She added, turning her head back to shoot them an eyebrow.
“W-we weren’t flirting with you!” The girl shouted, face flushed, even as her brother sat in a heap, poking at the ground with his finger. She marched over, her flush fading as her look shifted from it’s brief moment of outrage to some measure of control. “We just overheard you saying you’d appreciate someone showing you around, and we happen to know someone. We’d be cool introducing you.” She explained, looking Luz up and down as she did so. She shrugged. “But yeah, we probably would flirt with you normally, but we don’t have time for that today. Ed!” She called, her brother raising his head in response. “Let’s go find Mittens!” Her brother nodded in agreement, still seeming a little dazed from Luz’s snark from before.
“Whoa whoa whoa!” Luz rebutted, raising her hand in a halting motion. “Did I say that I agreed? Because I don’t think I did.” She said, crossing her arms.
The girl huffed, hands on her hips. “Do you have a reason to actually refuse?” She challenged.
Luz paused, thinking for a moment, before shrugging. “Fair. Okay, let’s go.” She stopped, causing the girl to groan.
“What now?” She asked.
“I just remembered I never got your name.” Luz sheepishly admitted.
The girl blinked, before chuckling, some of the tension in her face bleeding away. “Yeah, I did too.” She stuck out her hand in a shaking gesture, leaning forward at an angle that honestly looked a little silly. “Emira Blight, at your service.” She smirked.
“And I’m Edric!” Edric called out, popping up behind his sister.
Luz laughed. “Heh! Good to know! Since we’re formally introducing ourselves, not that I don’t believe for a second that you don’t know who I am,” She said, shooting the two a challenging smirk. They had the good sense to accept it with a shrug and a nod without putting on airs. “The name’s Luz. Luz Noceda.” She declared, shaking the slightly older girl’s hand. Her grin turned mischievous. “So, I’m assuming that Mittens is Amity?” She asked gleefully, leaning forward, even as the two siblings did the same.
“You know Luz, I think we are gonna get along just fine.” Emira declared, an equally mischievous smile on her face, mirrored by her brother. With that, the trio rapidly began plotting how to best fluster the composed youngest Blight. Hey, Luz more or less liked her, but she thought a little harmless goofiness would get her to destress some. Not too much though, she liked her head on her shoulders. The trio walked off, heedless of their watcher in the isles.
Boscha breathed out a sigh of relief. “They’re gone.” She muttered. Not only was she here, but so were Amity’s older siblings!? Yeah, she wasn’t gonna stay and get caught in whatever craziness those two decided to get into. With a spine-cracking stretch, Boscha pulled away from the Isles, pulling a book to her chest. She breathed in deep, sighing out, before freezing at the sight of flame licking out of her mouth. Clamping her jaw shut, she rapidly shifted her eyes back and forth, already feeling paranoid at anyone having seen that. She clambered off towards the checkout, the book white-knuckled in her grip.
The book’s title read “Mysteries of the Mind, and Other Dark Truths.” Maybe now Boscha will be able to get some answers.
Luz rounded the corner, arm slung over Emira’s shoulder, chatting away with the other girl. “-And that’s why I never date a girl with fire magic without asking if they are medicated or not first!” She boldly declared, completely unbothered by her own past misadventures. Admittedly, she and Azzie probably would’ve still been together, if she wasn’t head over heels for a childhood friend who ran away with the circus.
Edric sprayed out his drinking, choking on his laughter. “And she let you live!?” He asked incredulously, choking and wheezing all the while.
Luz sheepishly shrugged. “Yeah, maybe trying to tell her that I wanted to break up while she was waiting for her medicine to be refilled, and while she was practicing her spells to boot, wasn’t my smartest move.” She was SOOO lucky she dodged that initial attack, her butt still felt like it was singed at the memory!!
Emira gave her an amused smirk. “Oh, I wonder why?” She playfully ribbed the other girl. Her look of amusement softened. “You know, I was honestly all geared up to tear you apart at first.” She casually admitted, even as Edric stared at her in shock and Luz raised an eyebrow at her admission. “Yeah, after I got a rundown about what you accidentally dragged Mittens into, and trust me, I know you wouldn’t be able to stop her, I was totally prepared to dismember you and bury your corpse so you could never get involved with her again.”
“Eh, not the worst thing anyone’s admitted to wanting to do to me.” Luz said, shrugging the casual death threat off. Edric just wordlessly worked his jaw, somehow at a loss for words.
“But… as much as I want to blame you, I get that it wasn’t your fault, what went down. So I’ll be keeping an eye on you, but I’m not gonna try anything. Especially not now that I know how fun you are!” She finished, giving Luz a chipper wink, getting a friendly smirk in response. As the next area caught her eye, she perked up. “Oh! I think we’re here!”
“Finally!” Edric cheered, having gotten bored of the place a few stacks ago, with only Luz’s stories to keep him going. Who knew you could cause so much chaos with Cheese, a banjo, and a juggler!? He must find a way to top that…!
Peering around the corner, Luz’s eyes widened. “Is that what I think it is?” She asked, her voice tight with awe and fervent hope.
“Yeah.” Emira squeaked, equally overcome.
Edric just raised his eyebrows. “I don’t get the big deal, but you guys do you, I guess.” He said, shrugging.
Before them sat Amity Blight, her normally stern look having fallen away, a look of innocence and kindness gracing her features, as she read from the book in her lap to the children surrounding her, Skara standing to the side with a happy smile of her own.
“‘What do you think you’re doing?’” Amity read along, keeping pace with her place in the book, her eager audience leaning in closer, with Skara sidling up too, a sheepish grin on her face at how captivated she was with the simple reading. “‘We’re your friends and we wanna help!’ said the Tin Boy with a yelp. Otabin smiled and paced the floor. ‘I’ve never had real friends before.’”
Luz suddenly found herself very much identifying with a children’s book character from a story she never read, just from that one line. She turned to the twins with starry eyes. “Amity reads to kids?” She stated more than asked, getting an enthusiastic nod from Emira and a playful smirk from Edric.
She watched in slight awe as Amity continued. “‘Then we’ll be your first.’ The Chicken Witch Clucked. Otabin couldn’t believe his luck.” She turned her gaze to the kids, eyes glowing in delight at this simple kindness she was performing. “So, Bookmaker Otabin, surrounded by friends, bound a book of friendship and that’s the end.” She finished cheerfully, the children cheering and applauding, while Skara threw an arm over her friend’s shoulder, which Amity playfully shoved off.
“Yay!”
“Thank you so much.”
“Goodbye.”
One particular kid walked up to Amity and hugged her legs, before speaking in a strikingly deep voice. “Thank you for the story Miss Amity.”
Amity gave the little demon boy a kind smile, reaching down to return the hug. “Ah, thank you Braxas. Have a good day, and give your dad my wishes while he heals up. See you next week.”
The little demon, Braxas apparently, cheerfully ran off, waving in reply behind him. “Okay!”
Skara gave a soft laugh, clapping her hands. “That was so sweet, Ams!” She cheered. She shot Amity a mock critical look. “And just why haven’t you shown this to me before?” She asked faux-haughtily, even as Amity snorted.
“I think what I do to destress is my own business.” Amity replied dryly, getting a sheepish laugh from Skara in response. Her smirk softened into a smile. “But still, I’m okay with you having shown up. The kids really liked you.” She gave Skara an appraising look. “I honestly didn’t expect you to be cool with something like this.” She softly admitted.
Skara gave Amity a stern look. “Amity, I get that I can be judgy, but I’m not gonna bust your chops for being nice to kids.” She said sharply, before shifting into a teasing smirk. “Still, you know that now you have to do something I like to do without other people, right?”
Amity spluttered. “I don’t remember agreeing to that!” She said hotly, her face flush.
Skara spun on her heel, pulling Amity along with her. “Ah, don’t be such a buzz-kill! It’s nothing illegal, and I promise, you’ll enjoy it.” She said, giving Amity a wink, prompting the other Witch to roll her eyes.
At that point, Luz decided that it was about the right moment to reveal herself. “Well, well, well! It looks like Hexside’s number one lemon drop has a secret sweet center.” She commented, stepping into view.
Behind her, Edric and Emira shared matching looks of glee, mouthing the words ‘lemon drop’ to each other in delight. Oh yeah, they liked Luz, for sure!
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bang-to-the-tan · 4 years
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Moth to Flame
Chapter 13
Reader x OT7
► Vampire!AU
Smut/Porn With Some Plot
Warnings: (hoo boy) Oral Sex, Blowjobs, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, Sloppy Seconds, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Degradation,Somewhat Dubious Consent/Hypnosis, Vaginal Fingering, Anal Fingering, Handjob, Masturbation, Cumplay, Threesome (M/M/F), Foursome (M/M/M/F), Voyeurism, Slight Stockholm Syndrome?, Possessiveness, Vampires (Biting, Blood-Sucking, Reference to Death), Language
Words: 11.1K (jesus tittyfucking CHRIST)
↳ Summary: Robbed of your memories and intended as a birthday present for a deadly creature of the night, you unwittingly become the center of a territorial dispute between two covens of vampires. Tensions are rising and the brothers are getting hungry…
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Yoongi’s sweatpants fit well enough to get by in, matched with another of Namjoon’s hoodies—this time in a tan color. (How many hoodies does one man need? You’re reminded again of Jin’s seemingly endless supply of clothing, though you don’t dare mention the similarity) The flip flops he’s lent you are a little on the large side, but you doubt it really matters. You’re just glad to be wearing shoes again. As you wait by the door for Namjoon to get his keys and slide his arms through his jacket, tugging on a bucket hat and hanging a pair of sunglasses onto his shirt, you’re still trying to process your emotions. Outside. With other people. Other humans, even. Are you going to run? Are you going to try to escape? It feels like that’s what you should be planning.
“Oh.” Namjoon catches your attention as you muse, pulling dark, smokey fabric your way and wrapping it around your neck. You pluck distractedly at one of the fringes hanging off it, meeting his gaze after a second.
“Just in case,” he says, shifting the scarf around your shoulders more securely. “For the marks.”
“They look bad?”
He tilts your head to the side, inspecting you with a quirk of his lips. “Mm. No. Not really. Kinda healed. But just in case. Don’t want any awkward questions.”
Awkward questions. Like, ‘blink twice if you’re being held hostage’? That kind of awkward? You allow him to tuck the edges back in, hiding the evidence of where you’ve been. What you’ve been doing. What’s been done to you. You grimace. Your head still hurts, and the world has begun spinning a little when you turn your neck too quickly.
You blink, and you’re in the passenger’s seat of the car, staring out the window while Namjoon talks. Vaguely, you’re aware of what he’s saying. That he thinks it’s awfully important. You beg to differ.
“—find you on any, like, missing persons databases so I think we’re in the clear, but just to be safe, y’know. This is…it’s a risk. You understand?”
You hum, working your jaw. You wish he’d gotten you something a little stronger for the headache. It’s better than it was, but not gone. Swear it gets worse when he talks, and he’s talking a lot.
“I need you to behave yourself. Don’t make a scene. If you act out, then we can’t do this anymore.”
You roll your eyes, even knowing that it’s going to twinge at your migraine.
“I’m not gonna run around screaming about being kidnapped, Joon,” you grumble.
“I know. I know, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. I promised you we’d let you go when we’ve…sorted something else out.”
“That’s a different phrasing than you used last time.”
“I’m trying. Okay? Just—I’m not trying to keep you prisoner.”
“Hence the handcuffs.”
You flick a glance over at him just in time to catch the tick of his jaw as he narrows his eyes at the road ahead.
“That is…not the same thing.”
“If it’s sexy, then kidnapping is okay.”
The exasperated snort of air that he answers with is partly humored and partly frustrated.
“You are, annoying sometimes, you know that?”
“I get to be, I think.” You turn back to the window. “Considering.”
“…yeah. Alright. Considering.”
 The store has too many fucking people in it, is the thought that occurs to you. At first, pulling into the parking lot, you’re excited to see them. Human beings, running amok, running free. You feel like an animal at a zoo released into the wild. Ordinary people, milling about, going about their ordinary lives. It’s invigorating.
That feeling quickly fades when you actually get into the building. The smells, too-sharp chemicals and body odor hits you immediately; cheaply, quickly cooked food and even cheaper body spray. The noises. Chattering, obnoxious laughing heard from the other side of the store, children shrieking and shouting. A cart down the way has a squeaky wheel and you can track it through the aisles. You ruminate on thoughts of violence perpetrated by the item in question itself, of picking it up and throwing it out the finger-smudged windows with the screeching baby still inside it.
Namjoon’s hand on yours squeezes reassuringly. It’s unclear to you whether he can sense your discomfort but you don’t think you’ll mention it if it’s possible to avoid doing so. You can’t imagine how unbearably smug he’d be to learn that you’d rather be around him than them. Once you’re in the store, he lifts his sunglasses, but leaves the hat on.  
“Not gonna burn to a crisp in the sunlight?” You ask after a moment of watching a child attempt to shove his entire hand up one nostril.
“Nah. Just a little sensitive on the eyes.”
“The super cool, far-seeing, all-knowing vampire eyes.”
“Those ones.”
“I should have brought a flashlight to the club, is what you’re telling me.”
He chuckles, shrugging. “Maybe so.”
He leads you to the clothing section, still holding your hand, and there isn’t an atom in your body that is even vaguely alright with the idea of letting him out of your sight. There’s a feeling like you’d get swept up in this sea of people, lost in a world so entirely foreign to you. You know you used to belong here. This used to be yours.
But flicking numbly through shirts and pants, skirts, jackets, mumbling half-remembered guesses at measurements, listening to the cacophony around you, lost in the harsh overhead lights…you don’t belong here. You aren’t sure whether it’s more upsetting to think that you don’t now, or that once upon a time, you did. Once upon a time, you didn’t question it.
A gaggle of teenaged girls passes by. For a third time. They stare at Namjoon in turns, giggling and speeding up, skittering past, chattering to each other excitedly. Their idea of stealth leaves a lot to be desired.
“You have admirers.”
Namjoon cocks his head, lips pursing, as he pulls a t-shirt off the rack and holds it up to you appraisingly. “I’m ignoring them.”
“Not hungry?”
His eyes flit to yours. “Never teenagers.” He replies, low, firm. He sounds almost upset. “Never kids.”
You hear the click of a phone camera and a high-pitched giggle of embarrassment, the forcibly hushed whispers of ‘turn off the noise turn off the noise, oh my god!’.
“Not even annoying ones?”
“If you really want to discourage them, you could kiss me.” He says instead, lightly, but his eyes flick to yours and you can taste the heat behind them.
“That’ll do it, you think?” you echo sardonically.
He hums, nodding once in affirmation.
Before you can think too hard, you slide a hand over his on the shirt hanger, guiding it back towards the rack so that you can close the gap between you. Like the first time, he doesn’t move at first. Allows you to crane upwards, struggle to brush your lips together, before he finally acquiesces and takes the remaining space, laying a lingering kiss against your mouth. He’s warm, soft. His lips taste like him. Like how he smells. Like Namjoon. The two of you lock gazes as you part, and you willfully ignore the electricity shimmying down your body.
“I don’t like the color of that one,” you break the silence after a pause. He blinks slow, a grin crawling across his face.
“No?”
“No. But the one behind it is nice.”
“Anything for baby.”
You don’t allow him the warmth that curls inside of you at that.
 The two of you end up standing in line, holding a modest armful of clothing that you’re pretty sure will fit, waiting for your turn at the checkout. It’s not even a matter of what you’re planning to buy at this point—your headache has only gotten worse and it’s all you can do not to lose your fucking mind. You reached the breaking point about ten minutes ago and you’re absolutely going to go batshit if you don’t leave this store immediately. Which is why when Joon starts doing that ‘patting himself down in surprise’ motion, you’re thrown into palpable despair.
“Oh, shit.”
“No. No, Namjoon.” You plead through gritted teeth, throwing him a desperate look.
“My wallet’s in the car.”
“Damn you, goddamn you—“
He grabs your arms with an apologetic smile that dimples his cheeks. “Just stand off to the side. I’ll be back in two minutes.”
“No, Namjoon. No.”
But he’s already skipping away from you, holding up two fingers and mouthing ‘two minutes’ back your way. You hate him. You hope he gets run over while he’s out there.
You trudge over to a nearby empty counter, dumping your armful onto it, resisting the urge to throw yourself on the pile and pull a pair of jeans over your head. Your brain hurts, your teeth are chattering, it’s too bright, it’s too loud, it smells, god, it smells, you had no idea you were so sensitive, you are so ready to go home. And by now you don’t even care that you’re calling it home. You can’t afford to care. What you wouldn’t do for more medication. For that turtle. Oh, how you lament the absence of that heavenly reptile.
 “Hey.”
You start at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, sounding up and away but too close to the back of your head. You turn, casting your glance up at the tall man standing by the counter. He’s not a worker; instead of their overly bright getup he’s sporting a leather jacket and black jeans. You don’t understand why he’s talking to you, if that’s the case, and you’re not really in sure how to pretend otherwise at the moment. His grin is crooked, raising his eyebrows expectantly, but at your expression his mischievous look fades.
“…Sorry, I thought I knew you!” He says after an awkward moment. Your heart seizes. Knew you?
He gestures with his hands as he explains. “Y’know, from the back, you look—I thought I recognized you.”
“…O-oh.” You aren’t sure what to say to that. Fuck, you sincerely hope he was mistaken. You hadn’t even considered what would happen if someone who used to know you sees you. The person you were before…before this. You don’t think you recognize him.
There’s another pause, where you turn away slightly, willing this moment to be over, but he doesn’t move. The moment instead stretches into forever. You would like to cease existing.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine! I’m—“ God, it’s been a long time since you’ve spoken to real people. You crane back around, forcing a smile that you hope doesn’t look too forced. “I’m fine. Just waiting. My, um.” You stumble over a way to define Namjoon, deciding in the end to abandon it entirely. “He left his wallet in the car.”
“Hm.” He doesn’t look convinced, flashing you a cursory up-and-down glance. Actually, looking at him, he’s pretty handsome himself. Wide lips, strong nose. A jawline to kill for. His neck is thick. You wonder what else of him—no, no. No. No. You like his eyes, you decide weakly. He’s got kind eyes. Good, nice eyes.
“Do you mind if I talk to you?”
You frown, throwing him another glance. Misgiving pools in your stomach warningly. You really, really aren’t in any kind of state to be carrying conversations with strangers. “Uh.”
He casts a look around, casual if not for the serious slant to his strong brows. He leans forward, pulling one edge of his jacket to the side. You see a flash of silver, recognize the badge hooked to the inside, and it clicks in your head, despite the chaos spinning around the edges of the world like a sick carousel. You don’t see much of the ID badge underneath but for his name, and his serious-faced photo, before he tucks it back away. Jackson. His name is Jackson.
“…You’re a cop.”
“Nothing’s the matter,” he reassures, holding out a hand placatingly, eyes watching yours. “Just like to ask you a few questions.” He jerks his head at the entrance.
“Come with me.”
Oh. Relief floods your limbs so intense you almost sigh aloud. That’s okay, then. Yeah, that’s fine. The clothes’ll be alright here for a second longer, you’re sure. You’re already following him as he peels off the counter and starts walking casually, your doubts melting away, making your steps lighter. Local police. Just a few questions, yeah. You can handle that. God, you were so afraid for a minute. The thought makes you chuckle under your breath when his back is turned as he leads you out the door, turning the corner to an alcove by the entrance. You definitely can handle whatever this handsome stranger wants to dole out.
He turns when you get there, stepping to the side so you can tuck yourself by the side of the building, out of view of any nosy people.
“How can I help you, officer?” you ask demurely, a smile curling the edge of your lips. Just being out of that building is helping your headache immensely. It’s fading as you speak, releasing its grip on your jaw, your thoughts.
He cranes over his shoulder to survey the parking lot behind him and you take the brief respite to admire the way his shirt pulls across subtle pecs, across broad shoulders, underneath the jacket that does little to hide his physique. The way he fills those black jeans. You like the obvious power in what you can see. Is it weird to be checking the cop out? No. No, certainly not. You resist the urge to bite your lip when he looks back to you and grins again. He’s cute when he smiles.
“So where are you from?”
“Ah…not too far from here, actually,” you return, playing at shy.
“No?” he chuckles, and the giggle threatening to bubble up past your lips finally wins over. You sway a little with the girlish sound. It’s all part of the act. You’re a normal human girl talking to a normal, albeit strikingly handsome, police officer. Everything is fine. “You sure? You aren’t from a little further up north? Think very carefully.”
You shake your head, grinning. The world around you spins delightfully when you do, fuzzing slightly about the edges. It’s really warm out here. You didn’t notice that before. It’s nice. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Don’t think so?” he echoes, stepping closer. That’s good. You like that. Your heartbeat quickens in your throat. “Weird way to answer…are you having trouble remembering?”
“Maybe.” You giggle again, feeling a thrill wash through your frame when he takes another step forward, threatening to invade your space. You fall back to the wall, leaning your head against it to allow yourself a better view of his smirk. Your head doesn’t want to stay upright properly, but the wall helps. If you can just get him a little closer…maybe you could…he is very handsome. And his lips…You stare at them with hunger pooling in your gut, intently watching the way they pull when he scoffs. Very kissable. Check.
“I’m gonna take a wild guess,” he murmurs in that low growl of his, “About who you really are…”
One hand comes up to brace against the wall, caging you in. You can feel his warmth now. Can smell the mint on his breath. Your stomach twists in anticipation. There’s something familiar in his expression now. A darkness. A hunger. You’re beyond pleased to see it in a face so handsome.
“Going by these…” he hums, and you feel a finger dragging against the column of your neck, slipping underneath the scarf. You huff a pleased breath, craning to press more of your skin towards him, nearly moaning when he presses his hot palm against the bitemarks in a curious fashion. “And…this…” His hand slides down, disentangling from the fabric, fingertips grazing your sternum, too close to the mark at your breast. He’s finding your little secrets very easily, you think with a hushed giggle. You wonder if he’ll get the next one. You hope he gets the next one. Arousal crawls down your spine and you arch at the thought, suddenly desperate for it.
“Hah, fuck, wow, that’s a reaction, huh? They treat you nice?”
You’re nodding, whimpering when his hand starts towards your hip. He nuzzles forward, presses a testing peck against your lips but you surge towards him, clutching at his wide shoulders, pulling him closer. He chuckles breathlessly against your mouth as you kiss him, a free hand going to his wrist and tugging it towards your inner thigh. He tastes like mint gum, warm lips caressing yours firmly, supple and pliant.
“Are you good for them?” he whispers between kisses. “Hmm?”
“So good,” you simper, humming when he nips lightly at your mouth. “I’m so good.”
“What do they call you? Are you their little whore? Little pet? Hm?” he clutches the meat of your thigh suddenly, and your approving squeak is muffled by his tongue, wet, slippery, sloppy.
“Could you be good for me too?” he growls when you part, licking across your swollen lips. The sound of it, already so rough, so low, has you twitching. “Could you add one more to your little collection?”
“Yes,” you’re tugging him closer, writhing when his hand ghosts to cup you between the legs, firm, possessive, demonstrative. “Y-Yes, yes, I can be good.”
“Can you be quiet?” he adds with a hushed laugh, raising his eyebrows at your fevered expression as you continue to scrabble at him, yanking on his jacket, his wrist, begging and twisting. “You have to—shh,” he shushes you when you keen, pressing his fingers closer to your pussy through Yoongi’s sweatpants, feeling for your heat and finding it easily, “You’re too fucking loud. You have to be quiet, or else—“
“She’s very vocal.”
You almost cry out in pleasure when you hear the voice that breaks through the cop’s low mumbling, arching and trembling against the wall. But he told you to hush, so you bite down on your lip, vision swimming with sweet obedience and heady recognition.
“I can see that.” The dark-eyed officer chuckles after a beat, his hand slipping from your apex despite your muffled, disappointed noise and attempts to pull him back. “Shocked nobody’s been called in for domestic disturbance around yours yet.” He pulls his hand from you easily, leaning back and turning to better address the owner of voice behind him.
Arousal skitters up your spine, coiling in your limbs, at the way Namjoon flicks you a momentary, disapproving look, his jaw ticking. Is he thinking of punishing you for this? You hope so. But his plump lips curve into an overly-pleasant smile, eyes crinkling as they cast to the other man.
“By all means, don’t let me interrupt.” He says smoothly. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”
“I’d hate to get in any real trouble,” is the reply, just as cool. “Have to set an example for Yugyeom, right?”
Your body itches. Everything is warm, soft, bubbly, and the heat of the man in front of you is like a furnace, the hot center of your universe. You sneak your fingers into his belt loops, scooting him closer to you, and he allows it with a vaguely smug expression.
Namjoon’s smile doesn’t move, frozen on his face. “Your border is a few miles north from here, isn’t it? You’re cutting it a little close, don’t you think? Jackson?”
Jackson blinks, straightening. He grabs your wandering hand by the wrist from where it had travelled around his side to his zipper (how on earth did it get there, you wonder with a snicker), holding it up and away from his body with one wide palm. You whine through your nose. “We’re just passing through.” His tone has turned more serious. Respectful. “Avoiding the main roads. Won’t be spending more than a few hours this close to your territory.”
“Passing through?”
Jackson hesitates.
“We’re leaving, Namjoon.”
Namjoon’s smile falls, curving into a confused frown, his brow creasing. “What do you mean, you’re leaving?”
“It’s too slim here. We’re not having any luck lately. It’s my turn to disappear anyways.”
You press up against Jackson’s side, trying to slide your other hand up under his shirt, but he catches that one, too, holding you prisoner against the tacky feel of leather and his body heat. You mewl pointedly, hands straining, rocking against him. What’s he so busy for? Can’t he see that you need it? Your mouth waters. You need it…Up against this wall, bent over—you imagine Namjoon joining in and the thought has you aching. You can always prove how good you are. Can always show your new friend how good you can be for him.
Namjoon’s frown takes his lips with it, bares his teeth in a grimace. “You can’t be serious. What, already? What are we supposed to do?”
Jackson cocks his head in your direction and returns your sly grin with a raise of his eyebrows, briefly looking you over with an expression that makes you wet. You hum, trying to send him psychic requests for touching, kissing, biting through your locked gaze.  
“Looks like you’re already doing something.”
“She…she was an accident.”
“And here I thought you and Jin had finally made nice.” Jackson looks back to Namjoon, neck lolling with disbelief. He lets go of your hands, spinning and suddenly disentangling you from him in one smooth motion. He pushes your arms to your own chest and looks you dead in the eyes again. Hours pass where you’re lost in his eyes, caught in the endless depths of obsidian, floating in nothing and everything.
“Don’t. Move.”
A shiver wracks your body violently, and you have to throw yourself against the wall just to avoid crumpling to the ground with the pleasure that comes with obeying. You won’t move, you won’t move. You can do that for him. You press yourself to the brick, shuddering and panting quietly, eyes trained on his frame, watching how the world seems to heave with your every breath, lends him and Joon halos, makes heat spark and flare inside of you.
“You’re not actually leaving. We need you up north. Who’s taking your place?”
Jackson shakes his head, craning back to Namjoon. His tongue flits to wet his lips, gaze flicking upwards. You can think of better places his tongue could be. “No one. All of us are headed southwest.”
“Jaebum has better sense.”
“Back when it was an option.”
“You can’t just fucking leave, Jackson, we need cover. Now more than ever.”
“Wasn’t that the point of Jungkook?”
Ohh, Jungkook. You like Jungkook. Jungkook would take you. Press you up against the wall again, like when you met, but this time…you’re threatening to drool. Not moving is really hard.
“Jungkook is a kid. They’ll notice eventually. Jin isn’t thinking about the long term.”
“Then you’ll have to move anyways. You can’t just stubborn your way through everything, Namjoon.”
Namjoon’s smile returns, but it’s tight, dangerous. He looks like a predator. It’s a good look, makes you warm and wet all over, but you know better than anyone how to smooth it off him.
“I appreciate your opinion.”
“Good. I like giving it.”
“Stay out of my territory.” He pulls the phrase through his grin, low and heavy with threat. “If I catch any of you with so much as a toe over the line, I’ll pull you apart.”
“Wasn’t planning on it. Like I said, we’re just passing through. Thought we’d grab one for the road in between territories.” Jackson flashes you another glance and you shiver. “…I won’t say anything about her, though. For you.”
“I told you she was an accident. You know times are tough.”
“I don’t agree with taking them like this. I don’t know anyone who does.”
“It’s temporary.”
Jackson shrugs.
“I’ll leave her with you anyway.” He says finally, with a sniff. “From the smell of her, you’ve got enough to worry about with just the two of you involved.”
He ruffles the back of his hair as he starts to walk. Namjoon doesn’t step aside for him, only watching as he gets close. When he comes within distance, he reaches forward and takes his arm. It’s weirdly gentle, familiar. You wish he’d grab you instead. Less gently would be preferable. Be nice if you could move, also.
“Tell me someone is staying.” Namjoon pleads. His eyes are genuine as he searches the other man’s. “Someone, anyone. Tell me we’ve still got cover. That the riots won’t reach us.”
Jackson slowly, hesitantly, places his hand on top of Namjoon’s.
“…You said it yourself. Times are tough, Joon.” He replies, quiet. “I’m sorry.”
This time, when he moves to walk past, both hands slipping from his arm, Namjoon angles his body to the side to allow him the space to continue.
“By the way,” Jackson adds after a beat, “You might want to check the ‘most wanted’ lists for up north. I could be wrong, but I think you’ve got one more problem.”
Namjoon’s head drops into a defeated nod, worrying his lower lip through his teeth as Jackson turns the corner out of sight, back towards the entrance.
Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move. A particularly violent shudder courses through you and you whine at the feeling of disobedience, but your body is shaking, breath coming in irregular pants. You’ve broken out in a sweat, your entire frame twitching and needy. Namjoon’s form ahead of you has you wanting, knowing he could make it better, he could kiss and lick and bite and touch and fondle and you need him to. But he only stands there, brow furrowed at the concrete beneath his feet, scratching at the back of his neck distractedly.
“N-Namjoon,” you whisper before you can stop yourself, feeling a thrill race through you when he freezes. Jackson said you needed to be quiet, so you don’t dare say much else, but when Namjoon looks up and meets your eye with a steely glare, you bite back a whimper.
“And you,” he says, low. “What do you have to say for yourself, hm?”
You only watch him, shivering.
“Speak,” he commands.
“Please, please, Namjoon,” you’re begging, babbling loosed from your lips in a tidal wave, “Please, I’m so hot, I need, I need you, I’m so warm, Namjoon, I need—“
“Were you going to let him fuck you?”
“I—“
“Were you. Going to let Jackson fuck you?”
“….I…”  your mouth goes dry. At his scathing look you crumble. “Y-yes, yes, I wanted—“
“You were going to let him bite you?”
Your voice has become small, hesitant, but the surface of your skin still buzzes and every time you answer him, pleasure rushes up your spine. “Yes.”
“After I told you not to.”
“I’m hazed,” you whine, shuffling your feet, squeezing your thighs together.
He shakes his head, casting his glance to the side with an expression that morphs into desperation mirroring your own. “…Fuck.”
Yes. Yes, exactly. You concur.
“Come—” He gestures, but the movement doesn’t even register until you’ve already thrown yourself into his outstretched arm, nuzzling into his shirt, pressing as much of you against you as you can manage.
“—here,” he cuts off with a shocked wheeze when you slide your palm down past the front of his pants, rubbing for his cock through his jeans. A thrill runs through you at the realization that he isn’t soft under there. You growl. He grabs for your wrists, shaking, eyes wide as he tries to meet yours. “Hey, whoah, no—fuck, goddamn it.” “Naaaaaamjooon,” you complain. “I was gonna let you fuck me, too…”
“I can see that.” His voice is strangled. He pauses, grip briefly tightening over your wrists and you purr at the feeling.
“Get in the car,” he says finally.
“You could haze me more to get in the car,” you waggle your eyebrows at him, chuckling under your breath at the bubbliness of the world in the corners of your vision.
“Or I could tell you to get in the fucking car and then you just do it.”
“I’ll do something fucking for you, Namjoon.”
“Get. In the car.” He sounds strained, but you’ll take it. Eventually, he’ll give you what you want. You don’t even have to worry about it! You stumble with him to the car, giggling when he tries to usher you into the passenger’s side and avoid the way you’re trying to pull him on top of you.
By the time he comes around the other side to sit behind the wheel, he’s already chattering to himself under his breath. He does like to talk a lot.  
“Get Hoseok to pull some strings with one of his, get those clothes bought, look up the wanted section—wanted? What the fuck does that have to do with anything? Godammit, Jackson—gotta give this time to wear off. Maybe we can sneak you past Yoongi. Maybe he’s sleeping. God, I hope he’s sleeping.”
Your hands are wandering again. Drifting over the center console as the car jerks roughly under you and starts speeding smoothly into the sunset. It’s way more interesting to you, what’s happening inside the vehicle. Your fingers dance over to Namjoon’s lap, trailing, watching his face for any sign that he’s going to stop you. His jaw clenches again and he throws you a grim glance.
“Don’t think about it.”
“Think about what.”
“You know what.”
“Taking your cock out?” You clarify innocently, watching with interest the shuddering inhale he takes. “Putting your cock in my mouth?”
“Exactly that.” His teeth are gritted.
“Tasting the tip?” you continue, curious, brushing a palm against his crotch, feeling triumphant at the way the fabric stirs, the way he shifts underneath you. “Or deeper?” Your mouth isn’t working exactly the way you’d like, you’re slurring pretty hard, but you’re already drooling at the thought of sucking him off.
“I’m trying to fucking drive,” he whines, and the sound takes you aback slightly, watching his brow crease in frustration. Consent. Namjoon likes consent. He likes it when you ask.
“Can I suck your dick?” You ask with a polite smile, delighted with yourself for figuring him out so quickly. “Namjoon?” His hips rise of their own volition, stuttering. He doesn’t reply beyond a sharp breath and you frown. Not a ‘no’. But not a yes.
Wait a minute. You’re being so silly. You’ve forgotten the most important part!
“Can I suck your dick, sir?...”
He growls.
“No.” he says. You pout. You did so well, and this is what you get for it. You’re a good girl, why is he going to act like this?
“But I—“
“No buts.” He snaps. “Hands to yourself. Don’t move until we get home.”
Gold dust bursts beneath your eyelids, gathers under your skin, slinks up your throat, and you lean back into the car to watch it curl up through the atmosphere. Your hands are by your side. Where they belong. Where they’ve always been. You barely even notice how hard Namjoon is breathing.
By the time you get home, the soft lights and rounded corners of the world have faded some—not enough to be gone, but enough that your attention has returned to the wetness between your legs. You’re so wet. There’s even a patch forming on Yoongi’s sweatpants. You hope he won’t mind. You recall the way he licked you up in the diner and shudder. He definitely won’t mind.
Namjoon leads you quickly out of the car and up the stairs to the apartment, refusing to look at you, eyes wild, brows furrowed, nostrils flaring and jaw working. He looks like he’s thinking about lots of important things. One of them ought to be how good you’ve been, and how much you need him to touch you, but you’ll let him come to that conclusion himself.
He halts violently in the front hall eyes wide.
“Shit.”
“…Namjoon?” Yoongi’s voice comes from the living room, sounding surprised, almost…guilty?
Namjoon immediately takes a few steps forward, body angled between you and the room.
 You peer around him to snag a peek anyways. Yoongi stares back at you from his position on the couch, belly down and hunched over something black. The bags under his eyes are almost a weird shade of purple, they’re so dark. He looks like he’s dying, drawn and fixated. When your gazes meet, his tongue slips over his lips, slow, heady. You whimper before you’re even aware you’re doing it.
“Really? Yoongi?” Namjoon sounds exasperated. Worn thin.
“Really yourself,” Yoongi bites back, but his tone is gravelly. “When you said you were going shopping I thought it would be for longer than five minutes.”
“On the couch?”
Yoongi’s upper row of teeth suddenly bare in a lopsided grin with a mild chuckle. “Not the worst thing to happen on the couch. Right?”
His smile drops suddenly, nostrils flaring. A shiver crawls up your spine as you watch his hips rock forwards and his eyes flutter back in his head. “A-ah, fuck. What the fuck have you two been doing?...”
It isn’t until you feel Namjoons arm raising to halt you at your chest that you realize you’ve been scooting forward in a trance, trying to catch a closer look at the fabric that Yoongi presses his face into now with a low groan.
“Yoongi…” Joon swallows, hard, “You should go back in your room.”
“She’s fucking hazed, isn’t she, Joon? Fuck, she’s so wet,” he continues to hiss under his breath, as if to himself. “Fuck, she’s so wet.”
This time you can see his arm shift, can hear a slick noise from underneath him, his breath catching. His jeans are hanging a little low on his hips, baring a black strip of underwear, you realize, and with that realization comes understanding. The fabric is Namjoon’s old hoodie. He’s got it pinned to the couch beneath him. When he nuzzles into it, you recognize the faded pattern from the hem brushing his nose. It’s upside down, so that his face is where…where your pussy was.
“It was a mistake,” Namjoon says while your world spins dizzyingly with arousal.
“Hmm…” Yoongi grunts, impossibly low in his throat. “Lots of those.” He doesn’t sound fully cognizant of what he’s saying. It’s absent, slurred. You see why when he twists his head again, mouth lolling open to lap secretively at the hoodie, his tongue pointed and firm. Arousal slips heat down your back, between your legs when you spot his bared teeth. Long, sharp, glistening with saliva as he exhales shakily. Oh, yes. That’s what you want.
Namjoon’s arm presses against you and he takes a half a step back, taking you with him even though you don’t really want to walk backwards. The way Yoongi tucks his head into the hoodie, his hair splaying against the fabric, inhales loudly, humps forward, hips curling with a sloppy sound that indicates just how wet he is in his own palm—it reminds you of an animal.
“Gonna bite holes in the couch, Joon,” he warns thick, muffled. “Mmm…I’m going to lose my fucking mind. She’s fucking hazed. God, I-I can’t do this.”
“It’s only been a day.” Namjoon’s voice is strained. You cast a curious look at him, but immediately your eye is drawn to the tent growing in his pants. He tries to move it, tries to casually tuck it out of view, but it’s too late, the damage is done, and a huff of desire escapes from your throat, eyes threatening to bulge out of your head. You like very much the way things are shaping up. “It’s only been a day—“
“Fuck. Fuck.”
“—We need to give her time to recover—“
Yoongi makes a noise that’s too close, too close, to a high-pitched whimper, his head still bent, hiding his face.
“Recover nothing, recover is bullshit,” he’s babbling, dark, frustrated, garbled by the pillows underneath him. “I need—“
“It’s not a good idea.”
“I need to be inside of her now, Namjoon.” Yoongi pulls his head back up, laying his cheek ontop of the hoodie. His eyes are blown wide, all traces of brown swallowed by obsidian, hooded and piercing as he meets your gaze, blazing a path straight through you. His delicate lips can barely keep his teeth at bay, bitten, abused pink playing peekaboo with glistening pinpricks of ivory. His jet hair spiders out across his forehead, stuck in places with sweat. “I need to drain her.”
“It isn’t a good—“
“I’ll kill you.” It fights its way past his lips, stuttering and stammering, like an addict denied his high, lent credence by the way he digs his nails into the sofa, ruts into his own hand. “I—I’ll, Joon, I’ll fucking kill you.”
There’s a pause of silence, punctuated only by your breathing and the soft fabric noises as Yoongi humps the couch.
“…No, you won’t.” Namjoon’s voice is soft. Quiet. He sighs through his nose, long and weary.
Yoongi opens his mouth to reply, but he stills at the same time you see movement in the corner of your eye. A hand drifting to the hem of Namjoon’s second hoodie. Its twin, on the other side. Shuffling its grip up, taking the hoodie and the scarf with it, peeling it up and over your head with all the gentleness of a caretaker. You can’t look away from Yoongi. He’s stopped moving entirely, too-bright eyes watching you from over the pillows, a snake in the grass ready to strike. You don’t think he’s breathing. Namjoon’s hands return, slipping long fingers beneath the elastic waistband. He shucks them off you, helping you step out by placing your hand on his shoulder. One leg at a time. You sway a little, completely nude, standing in the living room like a sacrificial offering to the heathen gods. And the intensity with which the creature on the couch watches you, your chest heaving with heady breath, tells you that analogy isn’t far off.
You next feel warmth at your hand, wandering fingers drifting to clutch yours in a show of unexpected softness.
“We aren’t going to hurt her,” Namjoon says, fighting to keep a tremble out of his voice. Is it excitement? Fear? “We’re going to take care of her. Right, Yoongi?”
“Fuck,” Yoongi whispers, eyes wide.
“We aren’t going to hurt her.”
“No.” Yoongi echoes.
“We’re going to take care of her.”
“Yes.”
“I will use force if I have to.”
“Mm.”
Namjoon nods, once. The hand at yours disappears, reappearing with a sudden grip of your hair, tugging your head back.
“You wanted so badly to suck cock, baby,” Namjoon snarls into your ear, sending hot breath coasting against your neck, making you squeal when he yanks unmercifully, his grip burning against your scalp, “Here’s your fucking chance. You’re going to take Yoongi down your throat like a good slut. I don’t want you coming up for breath. Do you understand?”
“I understand, sir,” you mewl immediately, scrabbling upwards, delicate fingers flying to his with no effect. The switch has left you reeling with whiplash, but it makes you shake all the same. All the same, it makes you ache. He releases you, shoving forward, and you stumble, catching yourself on the arm of the couch, just beside Yoongi’s head.
Yoongi still hasn’t moved. You slide to the front of the sofa, eyes trained on his, unable to keep down the feeling of being a steak in a lion’s den. But he uncurls from his position, turning to reveal his dick to you, head cocked, hands clutching the cushions on either side of his legs like he has half a mind to tear them to shreds.
You almost choke, just looking at him. Flushed a painful red from tip to base, bright veins bulging angrily, twitching in the cold air apart from his hand. Coated in precum, streaks shining in the light down what you can see of his lower belly, wet patches soaked through the bottom of his white shirt, glazing his cock. Under your stare, it oozes another dribble, and suddenly you’re famished.
“Please.”
It doesn’t register as a word until he shifts, legs widening, hands kneading. You look back to his face. He looks half out of his mind, eyes dark.
“Please.” He repeats, hoarse.
You’re already falling to your knees, jaw dropping opening with the sick plop of your tongue leaving the roof of your mouth, reaching for his thighs. His hips flex when you get close, easing his head past your lips and you can taste the heat before you even descend on him, sucking, laving at his fevered skin.
The noise he makes is sin, lust, and velvet. Not far from a purr. His hands don’t move from where they’re digging into the cushions, allowing you to take as much of him as you want, as much as you can. You fill your senses with him greedily; his taste, his smell, every twitch of his thighs and every bob of his cock into your mouth.
You feel wandering fingers trace your spine, curling around your ass, alighting to your dripping pussy with intent. When two push inside, eased tremendously by the seemingly endless slick that drips from your entrance, you arch into him.
“Y-You fuck her first,” Namjoon’s murmuring from behind as he presses his fingers into you, scissoring, stretching, curling seekingly. You hump against his hand, trying to push him deeper even as you suck Yoongi’s cock down your throat with a slavering eagerness. “Or-or maybe I do…M-maybe we…”
“Both,” Yoongi growls, sharp. A moan bubbles up around his member from your throat and his hips rise to meet the sensation, almost lazy if not for the way he shakes. You feel a hand curling into your hair less than gently, by your face, tugging your head a little to the side so that he can look you in the eye while you suckle at his head. He’s grinning, feral and distant. As your gazes lock, he scrunches his nose at you in a playful snarl.
“You have two holes for a reason, don’t you think?” he drawls past a slur. “Let’s see how wide we can stretch them.”
Behind you, Namjoon grunts deep in his throat and his pace stutters. “Sh-shit, that’s—“
“She wants it. You want it, don’t you? You want me in your ass. You want Namjoon in your cunt. Admit it.” He tsks, his tone dropping somehow lower. “Admit it, and we’ll prepare you first.”
He pulls you off his cock with a fierce tug of your locks caught between his knuckles, teeth baring again in a half smirk, half grimace as he watches you take deep gasping breaths with all the tenderness of a hawk surveying its squeaking prey.
“I—I do.”
“Little whore.” The vampire in front of you hisses, murmurs, but the thumb brushing against your swollen lips is akin to fond. “I know you do. You want Namjoon’s fingers in your tight little hole?”
You’re nodding into his palm, trying to shift your weight more comfortably on your knees. Either he doesn’t notice or he’s pretending not to, perfectly fine with allowing you to arch, crane. Twitching when Namjoon’s fingers bump against those perfect places inside of you with slick, overly wet noises.
“You want him to stretch you wide for me. You want to beg us for it.”
“I do. I want it.”
“I don’t know that she can take it,” Namjoon mumbles, hoarse, but his fingers give you one more pump, squelching into your arousal, before they’re sliding slowly out, tracing up back towards your spine.
“She’ll fucking take it.” Yoongi’s leading you back to his cock, pressing your cheek to his strained member. His head throws back with a low groan when you obligingly lick up as much of his skin as you can, tasting salt and feeling the heat under your tongue. “She’ll take it and she’ll love it.”
“I’ll take it so good,” you agree between laves, between sloppy kisses and slurps. “I’ll take it.”
Warmth presses experimentally against the tight ring of muscles at your ass. When you tense thoughtlessly, it immediately disappears, Namjoon exhaling shakily.
“I don’t think—“ he mumbles.
“I think,” Yoongi snaps. “Stop fucking thinking, Namjoon. Just do it.”
There’s a pause, a shuffling from behind you, the sound of a bottlecap popping open. The fingers return, and this time you make sure to roll towards them, humming your approval as you lathe up and down Yoongi’s member sloppily. This time, you recognize a much slicker feeling—he must have found lube. Just for you. How nice of him. One digit presses deeper, sinking into you and you huff a sigh at the strange sensation; even with the lube, it hurts, just a little, just a sting, but it’s warm and smooth, filling you up. Another finger pad rubs comforting circles into your clit as he pumps his finger steadily into your asshole. Yoongi purrs with appreciation at the both of your compliances, hips twitching.
“Mm, yeah, stretch her good. Stretch her so good, so I can slip right inside of that tight little ass.”
Namjoon introduces a second finger and you have to stop sucking Yoongi’s cock to rest your head in his lap, keening at the intrusion. It burns, it burns, but the thought of taking his member inside of you, the thought of taking both of them, has you shaking with anticipation.
“Hoseok’s gonna be so mad,” Yoongi mutters, watching you whimper and carding lithe fingers through your hair. “His loss.”
Namjoon’s abrupt chuckle is humorless and short. “Hoseok is in big trouble for that stunt he pulled last night.”
“Hmm? What stunt?” The corner of Yoongi’s mouth twitches upwards in a knowing grin. A hand explodes against your ass, forcing you to jump, working yourself harder on Namjoon’s fingers, and you moan thickly.
“Tell him.”
“H-Hoseok came in the room while I was being pun-punished,” You stutter as Namjoon slides a third finger into your quivering hole, stretching you further with a deep grunt. “He-he fucked my chest.”
Yoongi chuckles. “Shh,” he hums, mock-comforting, stroking your hair with one hand as his other drifts to his own member, teasing at the purpled, leaking head absently, drifting to lock around his base. “I know. I know. Did you like it? Hm? You did, didn’t you? I bet it made you so fuckin’ wet for Hobi’s cock.”
He makes a thick noise deep in his throat. “Namjoon.”
“Gently,” is the response. Namjoon’s fingers slip out of you, even as your body clamps down on him as if trying to convince him deeper, and the rush of pleasure as they’re removed has you shuddering. “Go slow.”
But Yoongi’s gripping your hair, patting your cheek, is excited and rushed. Feverish.
“Turn around. Turn around,” he urges.
Obediently, you sit up shakily, assisted by an arm slipping beneath yours, and turn to face Namjoon. At some point, he’s taken his shirt off, unbuttoned his pants to better stroke at the bulge growing at his crotch. His eyes are hooded, his lips are red from his own worrying. He flicks his eyebrows at you when Yoongi’s hand comes up with a sharp crack on your asscheek, jolting you forward. You can hear him shuffling out of his pants entirely behind you.
“Ready?” Joon asks.
You nod, leaning up and seeking out his lips again. He kisses you back briefly, hands alighting on your waist to encourage you down. Yoongi’s hands drift over your ass, your thighs, tugging you closer, pulling you to meet the hot skin of his lap. His fingers as they dance over your cheeks, shifting you open so that he can rub the tip of his dick against your opening. The hot, slick feeling of his velvet head finally breaching the tight ring of muscle has you gasping, scrabbling at Namjon’s arms.
Yoongi is definitely bigger than Namjoon’s fingers. As you sink down on him, impaling yourself on his cock, you clutch forward at Namjoon desperately, mouth open to allow for the breathless mewls escaping your throat. Behind you, Yoongi grunts and hums directly into your ear, tsking through his teeth.
“Are you okay, baby?” Namjoon murmurs, almost sweet if not for the feverishly intent way he watches his elder penetrate you. “Is that still good?”
“Big,” you hiccup, unconsciously trying to shift your hips to accommodate the girth as it parts your walls. “It-it’s big.”
“I know,” he soothes. He keeps up petting your cunt, brushing your clit, rubbing your tits. He leans forward, pressing soothing kisses to your collarbone, up your neck, the edge of your mouth. “I know. You tell me if it’s too much.”
“Oh fuck,” Yoongi growls, low, when he finally bottoms out, sheathing himself completely inside you. “Oh fuck. God, you take it so good. You take it so well. Are you sure Jin’s boys didn’t do this for you?”
“N-No.” You’re glowing at the praise, at the attention, as you adjust. The pain quiets to an ache the longer you sit there, but you won’t deny the twitching in your limbs, the leaking of your pussy. It isn’t taking you too long to warm to the idea of taking both of them at the same time.
“No? No, just us, hm? Think they’ll be jealous, Namjoon?” Yoongi catches your earlobe with a bite that’s a little too sharp, humming.
“Jealous that we got to have so much of baby? Oh, yeah.” Namjoon mumbles, kissing you deep. His tongue slides across yours, sweet and gentle. Your lips smack obnoxiously when you part, the sound so loud in this enclosed space between your faces. “Jealous that she’s ours.”
“Is that right?” Yoongi’s hips move experimentally, thrusting shallow, and you moan at the sensation. It’s like he’s reaching through you to your guts, and you love it. “Are you ours? Hmm?”
“Y-yours,” you choke, humping with him.
Eyes caught in yours, Namjoon fishes his cock out of his underwear, giving the thick length a pump, two, before he’s edging closer. He’s kissing you again as he sinks into you, and you melt into the bliss of being held so intimately, so gently. Yoongi at your back, rocky steadily into your ass, Joon at your front, thrusting into your wet pussy, both humming and grunting with the effort as you writhe helplessly between them. You’re so full, so full, disallowed from resting between thrusts with the alternating rhythm they quickly fall into.
“F-fuck,” Namjoon growls. “So good, you’re doing so good for us, baby.”
When he thrusts especially hard, you can feel it criminally deep inside of you and you arch, hips lifting to meet him. The feeling of both of them fucking into you simultaneously, breathing into your ears, moaning, has you roiling in ecstasy, strong, warm arms holding you up, moving you against them, caressing breasts and rolling your clit.
“I-I’m not going to fucking last…” Joon warns.
Yoongi chuckles breathily, licking his lips so sloppily it’s loud.
“Cum in her,” he demands, hoarse, “Give her everything. I want to feel it.”
 There’s the sound of the lock turning at the front door. Namjoon’s pace quickens with a groan. He starts pounding into your cunt, leaning over you with his brow furrowed, lips parted, sweat making his neck, his cheeks, glisten. His cock fucks so smoothly into your cunt, stretching you around his girth, bottoming out and slipping until he finally settles for rocking up deep into you. The sounds his pelvis makes as he fucks you perfectly are loud, stuttering.
“Gonna, gonna,” he mumbles, licking up your lips.
“Hoo!” Hoseok’s voice calls from the front hall, “What is going on in…here…?”
Joon stills inside you with a violent thrust, cock buried deep inside of your guts, pulsing as he paints your walls with wet warmth, exhaling a grunt into the crook of your neck. Yoongi stills completely, moaning low in your ear.
There’s a pause, punctuated only by the heavy breathing of everyone present. Namjoon presses a sweet kiss to your mouth, humping once, twice, sliding his spent cock from your gaping hole with a hiss.
When he moves to look to Hoseok, you get to see him too.
Standing in the hall, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. His hair’s wet at his forehead with sweat. Under your stare, he licks his lips. His eyes are already smoldering, congenial grin faded into a hungry look.
“You guys having fun?” he asks, falsely conversational.
“No, it’s the worst.” Yoongi’s deadpan reply doesn’t earn him more than a flick of the eyes. “You should probably go back to the studio.”
“Sorry, Hope,” Namjoon interjects softly, still panting. “It—we didn’t mean to go this far.”
“I did.” Yoongi interrupts again in a whisper. You jolt at the feeling of his hot, slick tongue suddenly wetting a path up your neck to your ear. You squirm, both of you moaning quietly when you jostle his cock inside you.
Hoseok shrugs, lips curving into a pout. He slips his gym bag off his shoulder, tossing it carelessly to the ground as Joon flops to the side of the couch, far enough to be out of the way but close enough to keep a discerning eye on Yoongi.
“Well. I’m here now…” Hoseok says low, stalking closer. You’re suddenly very aware of how lewd you must look right now. Yoongi buried in your ass, Joon’s cum leaking out of your wrecked pussy.
“Hmmm about that…Hoseok misbehaved, didn’t he?” Yoongi murmurs into your ear, his breath tickling your neck. He shifts, beginning to roll into you again, stealing your breath. “Left you high and dry. What do you say we leave him?”
It’s impossible to concentrate, between his smooth fucking into your asshole, the way Joon’s rapidly cooling cum runs down your cunt, the smoldering glare that Hoseok throws your way.
“We can make him watch.” Yoongi’s next thrust is overly excited, and you jerk back into him with a loud moan, back arching as his cock parts your tight hole and slips up into your depths. It dislodges more of the cum inside you, encouraging it to ooze out in a fresh glob painting your slit. “Hmmm…we can make him watch and he can fucking cream all over himself in his ridiculous fucking pants. Make him clean it up, suck it up out of the fabric, no hands.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Hoseok’s smile is not friendly. It’s dark, dangerous—not far removed from an animalistic sneer.
“You don’t think I would?” is the glib response, heavy with promise, punctuated by a grunt when you clench around him. Hoseok’s smile disappears.
“Fuck, fuck,” Yoongi pants into your skin, tsking through his teeth. “What a fucking idea. What a fucking idea. You want to see it, too, don’t you?”
“P-promised,” you stammer, mind reeling, toes curling.
“What was that, slut?” Yoongi snarls, a free hand curving around your neck. Namjoon’s eyes dart to his fingers with an expression that betrays how ready he is to save you, even as he continues to recover from his position on the floor, but Yoongi doesn’t tighten his grip more than enough to choke your words and make it difficult to slur through them.
“He, H-Hoseok promised, he promised, t-to fuck me.”
“He promised to fuck you.”
“Mm,” you whimper, nodding, vision swimming with heady pleasure.
“You can’t get enough, is that what you’re telling me?”
“N-no.” You moan when he starts to thrust even harder into you.
“Never enough cock for you. Never stuffed full enough, never satiated. It would take all of us, wouldn’t it, and still you’d beg for more. Tell me I’m wrong.
Come here,” he barks, fevered, without waiting for your reply. “Get over here.”
Automatically, Hoseok moves, the edges of his expression softening as Yoongi’s haze pulls a veil over his eyes. He doesn’t even get a full step forward before Yoongi is commanding him again.
“Down. Knees.”
Hoseok’s legs buckle at the knees, his head flopping forward, eyes fixated on the unbelievably erotic sight of Yoongi’s cock disappearing into you and reappearing covered in juices and lube, the way your pussy weeps clear arousal and thick white seed down your thighs, soaking into the couch beneath you.
“Tell her you’re sorry.”
“I’m sorry.” It escapes his mouth easily enough, but his lips twitch in a faint grimace afterwards, as though the words leave a bad taste on his tongue. Yoongi fucks harder into you, before grunting and suddenly grasping your hips with both hands, one on either side. You can feel him twitching deep inside of you, but he doesn’t cum yet, just rocks upwards, curls absently against your back.
“How sorry?”
“So sorry.”
“Prove it. Show her. How fucking sorry you are.”
Hoseok’s eyes flit upwards, catching you in their endless chocolatey depths. You feel warmth, palms, curling over your thighs, holding you splayed in front of him with long hands. Maintaining eye contact, he leans forward, jaw inching open, tongue presenting itself, before he makes contact with your pussy, licking a long, hot stripe upwards. A low moan claws its way out of your chest, your hips thrusting forwards and halted by their hands, Yoongi’s on your waist, Hoseok’s pinning you to Yoongi, forcing you to take it as he starts to eat you in earnest. He slurps up Namjoon’s cum like he daren’t waste a drop of it, sucking it off your lips, sliding his tongue everywhere but your clit, rubbing through your folds, dipping like a man possessed into your cunt to retrieve as much of it as he can taste. You convulse with every flick, humming and whining, sweating, straining against their grip as Hoseok tilts his head, maneuvering this way and that, as though determined to lick up every trace of Namjoon from you.
“That’s it,” Yoongi growls thickly. “That’s it, just like that. Make her cum and I’ll let you inside her.”
 The response is immediate. Hoseok forces your thighs apart even further, lips finding your clit easily and attaching with a decadent slurp so loud and so obnoxious your ears ring, holding you down as you shake and arch into him, moaning unintelligible pleas for mercy as he sucks you up like his last meal. Your body wracks, shivering, and you hardly even realize how near you are until you’re finally shoved off the precipice. You’re cumming, hard, scrabbling for purchase on Yoongi’s thighs, the couch beneath you, Hoseok’s fingers. The scream that tears itself from your throat is raw, over-extended and cuts out entirely at the end as pleasure races through your entire body, forcing you to convulse and shake.
Yoongi’s steady fountain of curses barely registers until you realize he’s begging just as painfully, as desperately as you are.
“Fuck, Hoseok,” he hiccups, “Fuck, hurry up, get—get in her, fuck, I can—I’m gonna—“
“Was that nice?” Hoseok preens as he pulls away. His mouth and chin are shining, glazed with your arousal. He licks absently at it, slipping the waistband of his sweatpants down teasingly, catching your eyes with a hazy, prideful smirk. “Was that good? You want Hobi to fuck you now, pretty girl? You forgive me yet, hm?”
“Stop fucking around,” Yoongi bites, hands dashing to your thighs from around your back. He opens your folds for you, presenting you even more prettily to the other vampire, who watches you twitch with satisfaction and desire. “Come fuck the communal whore.”
Hoseok’s cock is thinner than Namjoon’s, but it’s longer. When he lines up with your entrance, guided easily by Yoongi’s fingers, and presses in with one smooth motion, you release a deep exhale, head thrown back over Yoongi’s shoulder.
“There you go. There you fucking go.” He encourages in a mumble, hands raising, one to your neck to caress and fondle, the other to your hip, to steady as he and Hoseok start thrusting in tandem.
Hobi’s hips flow into you effortlessly, curling, stroking the inside of your cunt with precision that leaves you breathless. The difference between the fevered way Yoongi now rams unevenly into your ass, drawing thick breaths through clenched teeth, has you clenching around the both of them.
You feel something against your palm, and you turn to look, meeting Namjoon’s eyes. He watches you caught between his brothers, expression heavy. He wraps his fingers around yours, and you realize his other hand is curled around his own dick, stroking himself to the time of Yoongi’s thrusts. He leans his head back, staring at you past hooded eyelids, plush lips parted in quiet huffs as he twitches and releases again, small spurts up his chest, decorating his abdomen. The sight of him, shining with sweat and cum, pleasuring himself as you bounce, filled up and defiled, makes you cry out, wrapping one thigh around Hosoeok’s ass.
“Gonna fill up this pretty ass,” Yoongi hisses, “Gonna fill you up so good, fuck.”
“Good girl,” Hobi soothes through his grin, “Good, just like that, take it, yeah, take it.”
Yoongi’s pace becomes even more erratic, even more uneven, his voice giving way to high pitched mewls and low grunts, burying his cock inside you with a growl.
“N-Nam—“ he pants suddenly, arching, pressing his lower half to your back.
Namjoon sits up with a rush, hand disentangling from yours to reach upwards, just over your shoulder, and you can feel the force as Yoongi’s head is thrown backwards into the cushion of the sofa. His prick twitches and throbs, finally emptying himself into the cavern of your asshole, filling you with wet warmth. Hobi pushes forward one last, long drawn-out time, and cums inside your cunt with a huffed breath almost of surprise.
Behind you, you can hear Yoongi hissing, growling, whimpering. You can feel the struggle as he thrashes against Namjoon’s hold, his fingernails beginning to dig into your hips.
“You fucker,” he spits, seething. “I’m so fucking hungry, you son of a bitch. It’s your fucking fault, you fuck.”
“Shh, Yoongi,” Namjoon soothes, brows knitted together. “Shh, I know. I know.”
“Fuck you, Namjoon, let me drain her fucking dry. You’re such a cunt.”
Hoseok slides out of you, watching your pussy leaking fresh cum with absent satisfaction, brushing a thumb against a flushed lip to collect some of it. He leans up, smearing it across your mouth and you lean forward into him, sucking the digit into your mouth with an exhausted moan.
“Hobi, get her off him.” Namjoon says, sharp.
“Alright, alright. Come on, pretty girl,” Hoseok urges gently, wrapping his palms underneath your ass to help lift you upwards. You try to prop your legs up under yourself, but you’re so sore, so used up, they’re almost completely useless. Yoongi’s member leaves your ass with a plop, his release already beginning to ooze down your thigh. His hands are hesitant to leave your waist, but eventually trail off, obeying hushed encouragement from Namjoon. Hoseok pulls you to stand, into his still-clothed chest, propping you up on your feet and letting you lean against him.
“Can you stand?” he murmurs into your ear. You’re shaky, disoriented, clutching everything you can reach of him. You shake your head ‘no’, burying your face into him, inhaling the comforting scent. “Okay.”
He slowly moves to collect his pants from the ground, keeping your hands on his shoulders as he bends. When he straightens, he pulls the soft material up your legs, wiping at the thick liquid flowing freely from your abused holes. When you flinch away at a slightly rougher tug, he apologizes quietly under his breath, craning to press a weirdly sweet kiss to your cheek.
“I’m gonna take her to get cleaned up,” he says over your shoulder, rubbing comforting circles into your lower back.
“Good,” Namjoon replies, distracted. Briefly, you feel a hand at your calf, stroking upwards in a soothing kind of manner. As Hoseok turns, leading you down to the hall, you catch a glimpse of Namjoon sitting beside Yoongi on the couch. They’re embracing now, both glistening, both panting. Their eyes are closed, Namjoon’s peacefully if not for the worry that creases his brow, Yoongi’s screwed tightly shut.
“Didn’t mean it.” You catch Yoongi’s deep mumble, choked with emotion, as he buries his face in Namjoon’s shoulder.
“I know. I know. It’s okay.” Namjoon’s hand brushes up his back reassuringly, even for how it shakes. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.”
 Hoseok leads you slowly to the bathroom, props you up in the shower. The space is too tight, too small, to comfortably fit both of you, but he gets down to business washing you clean with the kind of care you’d expect from someone who’s done it a million times before. He keeps you upright, sudsing you up, rinsing you down, keeping your hands on his shoulders, occasionally placing a steadying arm around your waist while he cleans the rest of you with lukewarm water. He hums while he works, some absent tune you don’t recognize.
“Namu seems to really like you,” he pipes up. “I saw that handholding jerkoff thing.” He shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. “What a sap.”
You don’t have anything to respond with, so he continues.
“He’s not the type to like people easy, you know.” He sighs through his nose, craning to catch your eye with a nod to indicate how serious he’s being. “None of us are. I don’t know what Yoongi thinks…or if he does right now.”
He straightens to continue rinsing your hair, taking the utmost amount of care to avoid getting soap in your eyes.  It feels nice. Warm.
“But if Namjoon likes you…I guess we’re going to have to take better care of you.”
There’s a pause.
“I am sorry.” He says finally. He sounds sincere. “For the tit job.”
Now you look up at him, too tired to really say or think much, but hoping he gets the expression you mean to send him. He grins, wide, and boops your nose with the loofah with a giggle.  
“It was really hot, though.” He adds, in a mock-defensive pout. “Really hot. I jacked off earlier today just thinking about it, you know. Shit, maybe I’m falling for you.”
That makes him laugh, his signature cackle bouncing off the tiles of the bathroom.
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getitinbusan · 4 years
Text
Only Love Can Hurt Like This
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Y/N doesn’t want a relationship, especially not with an idol. Jaebeom only wants her. Love after heartbreak and all the things that fall in between. Angst, Cheating, Fluff, Smut. Inspired by lyrics, the bold lettering indicates music or lyrics that can be found in the accompanying serendipitous universe playlist. 
The only reason to go to the club was to pick up, but when everyone knew who you were, it was just a dumb idea.
Yugyeom and Bam Bam however, were all about dumb ideas. 
He hated this scene, didn’t like attention, didn’t like the sloppy drunks and especially didn’t like girls who threw themselves at him. 
He wasn’t sure how exactly they’d talked him into coming here tonight. Sitting at the bar, head down he let his phone distract him until the inevitable happened. 
Waiting for your drink you watched the scene play out. 
“I can’t believe you haven’t bought me a drink yet.” She slithered over to him. 
“Why would I do that?” He answered barely looking up. 
“It’s the least you could give me in return for all things I’m going to do to you tonight.”
“The only thing you’re going to do that makes me happy tonight is walk away." 
A laugh escaped from your mouth and she turned to eye you up and down. 
Ignoring him she leaned in closer inserting her hand between his legs. "Listen, you’re not my type, my dick’s not interested.”
Picking his drink up off the bar she threw it in his face, “Your fucking loss.”
“I think you upset her a little,” you laughed handing him a napkin. 
“Good luck when she drops this as a Dispatch scandal tomorrow.”
The bartender handed you your drink and you started to walk away.
“Wait,” he stood up and offered his hand, “I’m…”
“Lim Jaebeom,” you cut him off leaving his hand outstretched in limbo. 
“You know who I am?”
“I do, and while it was nice to meet you Jaebeom, my dick’s not interested.”
“Wow, that’s just” he grinned…“using my own words against me. I mean… just because you’ve heard of me doesn’t mean you know me.” He was joking, you weren’t.
“I know there’s nothing about your lifestyle I want to be a part of,” you said walking back towards him.
“I know that you’re on tour about 300 days out of the year and the other 65 you’re stuck practicing.”
You got closer, “I know your fans are fucking crazy and they’ll destroy every personal relationship you try to have.”
Closer , "I know that however committed you intend on being, the road gets lonely and you’ve got a whole PR team to cover it up.”
As close as you could be, right in his ear, “Above all, I know that you’re too beautiful and too rich for your own good.”
Backing away, “Did I miss anything?" 
Raising his eyebrow he was intrigued at what had you so bitter, "Can I buy you a drink?”
You smirked before walking away, “Already bought my own, thanks though.”
He’d never had a girl so adamantly deny him and he couldn’t get his mind off of you. Picking up his drink he set off to find the two idiots responsible for bringing him here.
There they were, and there you were about 20 feet away. You looked up and made eye contact, smiling before turning your attention back to your friends. 
Bam Bam was quick to notice, “Oh, JB!! Say it’s not so, I think he’s got his eye on someone Yugyeom." 
Following their glances Yugyeom saw you. "Uh-Uh get that idea out of your head right now, she’s damaged goods." 
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jaebeom asked.
“It means,” he pulled up his phone and showed it to JB, “That is Min Yoongi’s ex."  
He took the phone out of Yugyeom’s hand, he remembered seeing these gossip articles a few months ago. Min Yoongi caught in a cheating scandal, secret relationship revealed! 
He didn’t want this. He certainly wasn’t looking for a girlfriend but there you were.
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The back story…
They were on to you.
The photographers lurked in corners, cars followed, you could feel their shadows hanging over you wherever you went.
This lifestyle was bullshit. Why the hell did you have to hide? It wasn’t normal to live like this. 
As angry as it made you, you still played along. Year two, fuck you loved him.  He was like an addiction, bad for you but you needed him.
So here you were, circling the block sneaking into your boyfriend’s house like a teenager trying not to get caught. 
It had been the ultimate shit day and it was only 10am. Your alarm hadn’t gone off, you were late for work, got yelled at, quit, stopped for coffee, spilled it all over yourself, cried in the car and now you were dodging the paps just so you could do the one thing that would make you feel better, hug your boyfriend. 
Fuck it, they weren’t letting up, let the chips fall where they may.
Parking on the road you walked to the house as quickly as you could and let yourself in.
Still crying, you closed the door behind you stopping to take a breath and re group. How the hell were you going to explain to Yoongi that you’d just outed your relationship?
Trying to pull your disheveled, tear soaked, coffee stained self together you made the trek to his downstairs studio.
Knocking lightly there was no answer, maybe he had his headphones on. Empty, the usual hub of activity was dark and quiet.
Lately he’d been distant. You thought he was just overworked and stressed. How were you so blind to not realize he must be sinking back into his anxiety.
Making your way upstairs to the bedroom, he was most likely still asleep.
Opening the door, his blackout curtains kept the room shrouded in darkness. You could hear the soothing sound of waves flowing from the white noise machine you’d bought him for Christmas.
Finally, something that made you smile. You would spend the rest of the day curled up beside him forgetting anything existed outside these walls. 
Walking towards the bed your feet caught on something, clothes?
Yoongi was meticulous with his clothing, it wasn’t like him to just leave things lying around.
Your heart began racing, it always knew before your brain clued in that something was off.
Lifting the edge of the covers, you now knew why. Laying naked, curled up together, he clearly hadn’t been having a depression nap.
Flicking the lights on you stood waiting for recognition to kick in. He sat up rubbing his eyes, looking beside him he realized she was still in the bed and it was you standing in the doorway.
That was enough, you turned the light back off and left. There was no crying, he wasn’t worth the tears.
Opening the door, it was as if the paparazzi had multiplied, cameras snapping you, clearly distraught, while he followed in pursuit.
What was the expression? Not with a fizzle but with a bang? You’d hidden for two years but now you were finished, everyone was going to know what he’d done. 
“I’ve wasted two god damn years on you Min Yoongi, I hope you get a fucking STD from your new slut" 
That was that, your whole life spread over the Dispatch gossip page before lunch.
No boyfriend, no job, your life had completely changed over the course of an hour.
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It had been four days and you were still on his mind. He couldn’t figure it out; it’s not like you’d even given him a flicker of hope.
“Fuck,” he said aloud as his fingers sent the text.
JB: You’ve got to find out about Y/N for me. I can’t stop thinking about her.
Yug: Why her JB? She’s 100% negative press. Name somebody, anybody else and I’ll hook it up.
JB: I never ask you for anything. Can’t you just fucking call Jungkook and get me her details
-------------------------
Yug: She owns a small bookstore in Ikseon-dong called Serendipity. Listen, Jungkook wasn’t happy about you asking. He said she’s been through enough, and you’d better not fuck her over.
JB: Thanks, I owe you one.
Yug: I hope this doesn’t bite you in the ass.
A bookstore, he grinned, well that was just fate or…serendipity. He could just pretend running into you was a coincidence, everybody knew he loved books.
He pulled it up on Google.
Serendipity, a Bookstore/Cafe located in the heart of Ikseon. A charming Old Hanok hidden amongst the Dongs tiny alleyways
While he scribbled down the address, the reviews caught his eye.
⭐ I don’t know who this whore thinks she is, but I hope her store goes out of business.
⭐ This store is trash just like the owner.
⭐ Stupid bitch deserved to get dumped. I can’t believe Yoongi would find her attractive.
⭐ Poverty ass gold digger. You’d better stay away from our boys.
His heart broke for you, he knew fans could be possessive, but these were just cruel. What terrible things for you to have to read, and for what? False ownership of their idol
-------------------------
Opening the door, the smell of coffee and books filtered through his nostrils, if he could create his own signature fragrance, this would be it. His eyes scanned the shop until he found you, glasses on sitting behind a computer screen at the checkout.
Browsing around he’d glance up every now and again taking you in. He noted how comfortable you looked in your own environment. Unlike at the bar your face was relaxed, soft, even more beautiful than he remembered.
You smiled at the customer you were serving, and he knew he was a goner.
He went back to perusing the shelves, his heart was beating quickly. How was he going to approach you?
“Can I help you find anything,” came from behind him.
He scanned the books quickly, and turned with a smile, “I’m just looking for I Want to Die, But I Want to Eat Tteokbokki.”
You gave no reaction
“Well that’s pretty convenient Jaebeom, because you’re standing right beside it.”
Starting to walk away he caught your hand, “Hey, come on, I’m just trying to know you.”
“Funny, I think you already know all about me, you found me easily enough.” You pulled your hand away.
“Listen JB, I’m a real career killer and it seems like you’re doing pretty well for yourself. Why would you want this kind of drama?”
He knew the words were going to come out wrong but he was trying to say them before you could leave.
“I feel bad for how you’ve been treated, you deserve better. I think that I could make you better, fuck, not that there’s anything wrong with you.. I mean that we could be better….together, not separate.”
“I don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me Jaebeom, last call for the pity party ended a while ago. I’m doing just fine putting myself back together.”
“I’m sorry, I promise I’m not usually like this. I don’t know why I can’t talk to you without sounding like an idiot.”
He sighed deeply, “I’m just…is it okay if I stay? I promise I’ll just have a coffee and read, I really like it here.”
“It’s bad business for me to chase away customers, stay as long as you want ”
You felt kind of bad, maybe you were being to harsh on him. Bringing his coffee to the table you set it down placing a slice of cheesecake next to it. “It’s on me.”
“Thanks,” he smiled shyly.
“Can I ask why you chose Serendipity? It’s kind of a romantic notion for someone who’s so cynical.”
Cocking a brow you asked, “Are you really interested, or is this you hitting on me?”
He laughed, “I’m not going to stop hitting on you, but yeah, I really want to know.”
You walked away and grabbed a book off the shelf. Sitting beside him, you slid it across the table.
“Have you heard of The Three Princes of Serendip?” He shook his head no.
“It’s a fairy tale. The heroes were always discovering things they weren’t in quest of.”
He thumbed through the pages while he listened to your explanation.
“That day a few months ago,” you interrupted yourself, “I’m assuming you know what day I mean?”
He pursed his lips and nodded.
“Well, I quit the job I hated, I lost my boyfriend and the whole world treated me like I’d done something wrong.”
You shrugged, still not understanding how it all happened.
“I was lost, I had nothing but myself and a handful of hush money from Big Hit. I came here to hideout but instead I found this place for sale. If that’s not a Serendipitous string of events, I don’t know what is.”
He smiled and closed the book, “I think I’ll take this one today.”
Pretending to be shocked you questioned him, “What? You didn’t really want I Want to Die, But I Want to Eat Tteokbokki? ”
“I think I’ll leave that one as an excuse to come back.”
His deep chocolate brown eyes were heavy on you, you know because you made the mistake of looking into them.
“This is a public space, you don’t need to make excuses to come.” You tried to sound flippant.
“And JB…I wasn’t always this cynical, life just hasn’t given me a chance to be anything but.”
-------------------------
He laid in bed reading, or trying to at least. He’d been over the same sentence about four times unable to stop thinking about you. 
-------------------------
You were laying in bed when you heard the ping. You knew it was a stupid idea, but after he left you stalked his accounts, and turned on his post notifications.
-------------------------
The Vlive began, he wanted to tell everyone about a great book he was reading that he’d found in a cool little shop in Ikseon-dong. 
📖 Lady: I’m glad you like it.
Reading your comment he smiled, he really was a beautiful man. You examined his features and expressions but they suddenly changed. He tried to quickly sign off but it was too late.
😭Is he talking about y/n?
😱Are you kidding JB? 
🤮I can’t believe he’s going after Yoongi’s sloppy seconds.
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He knew he fucked up and he didn’t know what to do about it. He’d finally made some headway and now he was back to square one. 
So, the next day he was back. Standing in front of your counter he held out a cup of Hotteok.
Before he could speak you jumped in, “See JB, the way this whole retail thing works is, you pick something you want that I’m selling, then give me money for it. Nowhere in the scenario do you bring me random shit just because.”
Your eyes were red, he felt terrible, after only 2 conversations he’d already managed to hurt you. 
“It’s not random shit, it’s an apology. I’m sorry I drew attention to you last night.” he paused, “you don’t deserve to be attacked like that." 
You turned away trying to gain your composure, "The one thing I’ve learned through all this is to never apologize for showing your feelings. When you do, you’re apologizing for the truth." 
You looked back, "I’ve never apologized for loving Yoongi, because it was real whether people want to believe it or not.”
You sighed, “You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t put the target on my back JB it’s been there a while, I’m just sad because now you’ve got one too." 
His heart sank when he realized that you weren’t choosing loneliness to protect yourself, you were keeping your distance so he wouldn’t get dragged into it. 
He placed his large hand over yours as it lay on the counter. "There’s only one thing that’s going to make me walk away from you.” He tipped your chin so you were forced to look into his eyes, “Tell me you don’t want me here." 
The door chimed, you were no longer alone.
"Like I said yesterday, it’s bad business for me to chase away customers, stay as long as you want.”
He smiled brightly, “That’s not a no." 
Taking the Hotteok from the counter you were still unsure, but he was right, it wasn’t a no. 
-------------------------
Standing at the bar in the exact spot you’d met him, you’d hoped he’d be here tonight. You felt like a desperate fool with a schoolgirl crush.
Three days had passed since you’d last seen him and despite your best efforts, you found yourself missing him. You hated the way your heart hurt, of course he’d given up why would this be a surprise? 
A hand reached around placing a drink on the bar in front of you. "You look like you could use this, still pining over Min Yoongi?" 
"Actually I’m waiting for a friend Minho." 
"I could be your friend tonight Y/N. I guarantee I can get you to stop thinking about him,” he grabbed your ass. 
“No thanks, I don’t think 5 minutes in your bed will change my world.”
He grabbed the drink back, “No wonder he cheated on you, you’re such a bitch." 
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb…you’d let your guard down and everything was feeling all too personal. Shooting back the last of your Soju you grabbed your jacket and made for the exit. 
"You’re not leaving when I just got here?”
Your traitorous heart fluttered, “I didn’t know I was supposed to be waiting." 
His grin got bigger, "Are you mad because maybe you actually missed me a little?”
Mad, sad, who could tell them apart anymore? 
“Yeah, actually I am and I’m livid with myself for it." 
He put his hand on your waist, "Hey, I’m sorry, I got called for re shoots.”
His thumb rubbed over your hip soothingly, “I only have your work number…I just got back and I was hoping you’d be here" 
A voice shouted from across the bar "Don’t waste your time on that one JB, come sit with us"   
You closed your eyes trying to keep the tears at bay, "You heard the man. I’m leaving anyway, I guess I’ll see ya around.”
Shooting a look at Minho he ran out the door to catch up with you. 
Standing at the curb waiting for a cab he reached his hand out to you. “I wanted to be with you tonight, and I’m pretty sure you wanted to be with me. It’s still early, let’s go somewhere okay, can we still do that?" 
Placing your hand in his, "Only if we’re alone…and there’s alcohol.”
He smiled victorious, “I think I know a place." 
Walking up the crowded street you felt better, anonymous. He kept squeezing your hand making sure you hadn’t slipped away.
"Right here,” he stopped in front of a pink neon lit Karaoke Bar. 
“Karaoke? I think one of us has an extremely unfair advantage JB." 
"Don’t worry I’ll let you win." 
Stepping closer to him you kissed his cheek, "Why are you being so nice to me JB?" 
"Y/N, why do you keep questioning my motives?”
His hand ran up your arm, “I hate that you’ve been mistreated for so long that you don’t realize what normal behavior is.”
He held the door open for you, “How’s a private room and bottle service sound?" 
-------------------------
You consumed copious amounts of Grey Goose as you took turns performing for one another. What you lacked in vocal talent you made up for in your ability to mimic choreography.
"I think I’ve lost my voice,” you shouted after your efforts to sing Itzy’s Wannabe.
“I’m going to have to tell JYP about you, maybe with some training you can debut next year and come on tour with us,” he laughed.
He queued up the next song, “Come here, I want to dance with you." 
You moved into his waiting arms and allowed yourself to surrender to his pursuits. His song came on and you laughed, "it’s so cheesy Jaebeom-ah!" 
He sang anyway, 
Our love will lead the way for us
If the road ahead is not so easy
Like a guiding star
I’ll be there for you if you should need me
You don’t have to change a thing
I love you just the way you are
You let your head rest on his chest, his heartbeat was louder, more important than the words he was singing.
Glad he was holding you up, you felt a little drunk, a little in love and for once, you weren’t going to stop yourself. 
He kissed the top of your head and held on a little tighter, "So does this mean you’ll finally give me your number?”
You looked up at him nodding, locking eyes he moved slowly closer, lips almost touching …until his phone went off.
He frowned, “Fuck, it’s management. Sorry I’ve got to check in. Just stay in my arms ok?" 
"You’re going to read texts over my shoulder? How romantic,” you jibed, but you didn’t break away. 
JYP: Dispatch has reached out to us for comment regarding a new dating scandal. They were tipped off that you were with Y/N at Cakeshop Night Club tonight and now they are outside of the Karaoke bar waiting for photos. We need to discuss your intentions immediately. A car will pick you up in 15 mins, wait inside for security. Do not leave the building together as it is still controllable speculation.
You could feel his body react to what he was reading, deep breaths, tensed muscles and finally pulling you in tightly. “What is it J?" 
"I’ve got to get you out of here, the press are outside" 
He handed you his phone, "add your number.”
But JYPs text was still open and you saw every word.
You keyed in your info and switched it off before handing it back. 
You breathed deep, “You know, sneaking in and out of buildings is my specialty,” You put your hand over his heart and gave a sad smile.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m sure there’s a back entrance, I’ll just grab a cab home. If you go out the front they’ll be too busy taking photos of you, they’ll never notice me.”
You tried to sound confident and uncaring so he’d do what was best but Jaebeom had his own plan. 
“Get your stuff, we’re going out the front together." 
He pulled your hand through the bar and out the front door. Lights flashed as they took their photos for tomorrow’s headlines.
Hailing a cab he leaned over and kissed your lips, "I’m going to call you as soon as I can okay?”
You weren’t okay, your first kiss would be your last kiss. Your smile hid the stabbing pain in your heart, you knew it was over before it had started.
“Jaebeom,” you called him back after he closed the car door behind you, “It’s been a really great time.”
He smiled and waved.
Getting into the companies blacked out Suburban he was happy, he was going to stand his ground.
He’d felt bad that your first kiss had been under these circumstances so he opened his phone to text you a quick apology.
Searching the contacts  he found your entry, “I’m sorry” with random numbers underneath. 
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So much for not getting attached. Unlocking the door you collapsed crying, the exhaustion of life had finally beaten you into submission.
The shrill ring of the store’s landline broke through the quiet of the courtyard, a reminder of his persistence. He wasn’t going to give up so you had no other choice but to cut him off. 
-------------------------
Barely having slept, coffee in hand, you made your way over the wooden path to the store.
The indication light was flashing in a rhythm that brought back the sound of his heartbeat in your ear. 
You have one unheard message…
Y/N, I know that you were happy last night, don’t walk away from this…from me.  Do you remember the day I first came into your shop? You asked me how I intended to fix you? I didn’t know then, I was just grasping for a shot…but…I know now..I’m just going to love you. All you have to do is let me…can’t you just let me?“ 
Reaching out you hit delete and tried to convince yourself it was for the best. 
-------------------------
Watching from your office he’d come in everyday for a week. The staff, as instructed, told him you weren’t there but several times he’d caught you looking at him through the window.
He looked hopeful but you were sure he’d get over it, you’d get over it. 
There was a light knock on your door before the handle turned. 
"Hey, sorry Y/N, he insisted on leaving this for you.” She placed the book on your desk and left. 
Running your hands over the cover you could tell it was well loved. 
Its condition would normally drive you nuts but it was his, and in his passionate demeanor he’d most likely tackled it head first, caution less, as was his way. 
You were unfamiliar with it, Tablo’s “Pieces of You."  Flipping through the marked up pages you found a bookmark, a hand drawn blue tree with flower petal leaves pointing to what he wanted you to see. 
"So here I am, 
Choosing to kick away the ladder 
So that I may remain at your side.
I understand your solitude 
I see your shadow.”
His phone number was scribbled on the inside cover with the inscription. “When you’re ready, whether it’s tomorrow or two years from now." 
-------------------------
The worn book sat on your desk catching your eye every so often. He hadn’t been in for a few days, had he given up? Why did it hurt to think maybe you’d never see him again?
"Fuck,” you opened the cover And picked up your phone. 
Y/N: I miss you and I don’t want to do that anymore.
JB: You don’t have to, just let me in. 
Y/N: I need some time. 
JB: I’m just….Y/N…don’t shut me out okay?
He left you space as requested ….sort of.
Every night you got notifications of his v lives. He talked to you indirectly through the camera, speaking about the books he’d read while sending secret messages through his song choices playing in the background.
He looked happy and he never wavered when your name was brought up by the fans. He stood up for you, called you a friend and told people they shouldn’t say such horrible things. 
Slowly he was breaking your resolve, you were healing. 
📖 Lady: I really enjoyed Pieces of You. 
He smiled knowing you were online. He queued up his next track, it was Junny’s By my side  and he sang…
stay right by my side
And let me teach you how to love
With you I just can’t get enough, oh girl
He closed his eyes and hummed in contentment.
Your phone notification broke the  trance Jaebeom’s sweet melody had lulled you into.  
Yoongi: Can we meet, I think we should talk.
Y/N: I don’t fucking think so.
Yoongi: it’s about Jaebeom.
-------------------------
You got to the coffee shop early and were surprised he was already there, punctuality was never his strong suit.
He stood to greet you. Thinking better of the hug he was going for, he gestured to the chair.
“I want to say I’m sorry”…he stammered over his words.
“I know it means nothing and you hate me but…I am…sorry.”
He remembered your order and it was already on the table.
“Can we just cut the shit. Why exactly do you want to talk to me about Jaebeom?”
He ran his hand up the back of his neck, “I keep getting messages from the fans about you two.”
“You know what Yoongi, I’m tired of your fucking fans. They’ve sent me hundreds of death threats, they write rude comments on my business page and now that someone actually likes me again they keep telling him that I’m a piece of shit."
You spit the feelings that had been trapped inside you out at him.  
"You know you could have told them to stop, but you didn’t.”
He looked at you puzzled and pulled up his weverse page.
“You think it’s only you?”
He scrolled through reading you select comments.
“I’ve lost all respect for you Yoongi… I can’t believe you’re a cheater. Here, this one’s great……..Y/N deserves better, I’m happy she’s with JB now…"
You were shocked, not once had you seen or received messages that were team Y/N.
"Well you fucking deserve it."
He shrugged, "Jaebeom, he’s a decent guy…Jungkook’s been talking to Yugyeom and word is you’re not giving him a chance because of what happened.”
He wouldn’t look up from his Americano.
“Don’t let me fuck up your life any more than I already have okay, I’m not worth it."
You sighed, reaching across the table to touch his arm.
"I appreciate that you’d come here to tell me that."
He picked up your hand and held it tightly in his.
"I’m sorry I did this to you. Let him be the man I couldn’t."
Standing to leave he kissed your cheek, grabbed his coffee and walked away.
-------------------------
Sitting in your office there was a soft knock at the door, "Hey, sorry, I just…did you,” she approached apprehensively with a cup of tea, “have you seen the dispatch page?”
It didn’t take long, the photos, the headlines, the comments…
Yoongi and Y/N are back together! Seen today, the couple were holding hands and kissing over coffee. Was she just using Lim Jaebeom?
You felt the wind knocked out of your lungs, of course this would happen.
Had Jaebeom seen? What would he think? As you sat panicking he sent a text.
JB: Just can’t manage to stay out of trouble, huh? I’m beginning to think you tip off your own location to Dispatch to grab the headline.
You threw your phone into the drawer and slammed it shut.
He waited, no answer, shit… he’d shoved his foot in his mouth again.
Why did he turn into a completely inarticulate unfunny  idiot when it came to you?
JB: Y/N I’m sorry that was supposed to be a joke…
-------------------------
You looked at your assistant, “I think I really fucked up, you want to go out and get completely loaded tonight?"
She smiled agreeing, "I’ll start closing, you go put on something sexy."
You stood to leave, "May as well, If I’m going to get accused of stupid shit I might as well make it worthwhile.”
-------------------------
The drinks flowed freely and you just didn’t give a fuck anymore, about anything. If they were all watching, you didn’t care. You danced, you sang, you laughed, you needed no one. Until he was in front of you.
“Shit, let’s go”, you grabbed your friends hand but she smiled devilishly at you.
“I called him, its time to get the fuck over it Y/N. You’ll thank me later,” She waved him in and walked away.
Zeroing in on you, he made his way over. Ready on the defensive you expected him to be angry.
In your best effort to save face you’d cut him off before he could you.
“If you want to be mad at me go ahead, but I fucking warned you this would happen.”
You were pointing at his chest, trying to drive your point home.
“So if you’re here to tell me you don’t want anything to do with me, you go right ahead Lim Jaebeom."
"Are you done?” He raised his voice.
“You are the most stubborn girl I’ve ever met Y/N. I’ve gone to bat for you for the last month, I never gave up. AND! despite how hard you’ve pushed me away I’ve never left. Do you think I’d actually walk away because of a dispatch article?"  
You both stared in a deadlocked gaze. Time standing still until he wrapped his arms around your waist. You could feel a million eyes on you all at once.
"Take me home Jaebeom.”
He grinned and kissed your forehead, “I thought you’d never ask."
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The ride was quiet, you tucked your head under Jaebeom’s arm, the vehicle’s movements making you sleepy. He held your hand like a nervous high school boy, afraid what he really wanted to happen was about to happen.
The car pulled up to the front of his place and he smiled nudging you awake. “We’re here.“
Drunk and groggy you looked around, "where’s here?"
He put his arm around your waist to keep you from falling over, "You’re at my place, in Hannam. Remember? You asked me to bring you home?”
You looked him up and down giggling, “Yeah I did.”
Trying to balance you and getting his key in the lock he finally got the door open. At least 5 cats came running to greet him, “Oh my God JB, you’re a crazy cat lady!"
"This is why I can’t have friends over,” he picked up the smallest fluffy one and kissed it’s head.
The pretty little Siamese brushed against your leg until you picked her up. He looked shocked, “She doesn’t like anyone."  
"You purred into her fur, "Well I’m not just anyone, am I?”
“Clearly."
He walked over and took the cat from your arms, "Let’s take care of you. What can we do to minimize the hangover you’re going to have in the morning?"
He held your face in his hands. "What do you need?"
You were feeling a little dizzy, whether it was from the alcohol or his proximity you couldn’t be sure.
"Maybe some fresh air, water…your arms to keep me from falling over.” You propositioned.
He slid the balcony door open and led you outside. “You’re going to have to hold onto the rail till my arms get back."  
The air was cool and you closed your eyes inhaling deeply, everything felt right.
Perched atop the Seoul Skyline the stars shone brightly in the astronomical twilight. In the grand scheme of all the overblown things that had taken place in the last few months, you were still just a small player in a larger roll occurring around you.
A helicopter broke through the silence of the night "Uh-oh, looks like Dispatch tracked you down already.”
You shot him a look, “what, too soon?”
He passed you a glass and an aspirin, “Drink.”
He stood close beside you, leaning on the rail staring out at the city.  You walked your hand over closing the distance until it touched his.
“I want to apologize."
He cut you off, "you really don’t have to, you didn’t do anything wrong."
He brought his hand the rest of the way to lay over top of yours.
"I’m pretty sure you once told me  to never apologize for showing your feelings because if you do you’re apologizing for the truth."
Amazed you turned to him, "You remember me saying that?"
He nodded as you moved towards his lips.
He pulled back, "Y/N, you’re drunk, I’ve already ruined our first kiss I’m not going to let you forget the second."  
"You’re a good guy JB"
He wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your head.
"Unfortunately I am…so I’m going to have to send you to bed."
You looked up at him with big eyes and a pout, "You don’t want to sleep with me?”
“Jesus Christ, you think I don’t want you? You’re really making me question my morals right now.”
He ran his hand up your arm and sighed while spinning you back towards the door.
Flipping the switch his bedroom lit up before you.
“It’s so cozy Jaebeom-ah. Cats, Plants, nice sheets…how are you still single?"
He handed you a t-shirt from his drawer, "I was kind of hoping I’m not anymore…you can sleep in this."
You grabbed it looking upset, "I’m going to feel bad if you sleep on the couch.”
He undid the zipper that ran up the back of your dress. “You’re going to feel bad in the morning anyway plus you’re not even going to remember this conversation."  
You broke out the pout again, "What if I get scared or lonely?”
He bent down and picked up the cat that had followed you since you arrived.
“Nora is the best company and she wouldn’t dare let anything happen to you.” He kissed your forehead and pointed, “Bed, now."
He was still laughing at you as he turned off the light and closed the door.
-------------------------
You woke up in the huge bed, alone save for the tiny cat curled up into your side. The smell of coffee wafted under the door calling you to get up but your head swam in scenarios.
You remembered him being a complete gentleman, you remembered falling asleep against the pillow that smelt like him, you remembered…he was just on the other side of the door.
You liked it here, you didn’t want to leave. You wanted him to know you weren’t a waste of time, you’d already lost so much of it by pushing him away.
Grabbing your phone you composed your words into a poem you needed him to hear.
I was fine on my own, every night I slept alone
The distance kept me safe
It’s easier to fake the feel than dance around with something real
Promises might break
Then you came along and said that I was different
You were missing something and it felt like we should see
Normally, I’d fall away, your face is a distraction
But I like the way that you’re distracting me
I went home before my friends so I could hear your voice again
But it feels strange to care
I hesitate to say out loud that when I’m drunk and in a crowd
I pretend you’re there.
We watch the helicopters from the top of your apartment
And all I could think is I don’t want to leave
Normally, I’d fall away, your face is a distraction
But I like the way that you’re distracting me
I’m writing this from your bed while you’re in the other room
I like what you do to me, and I wanna tell you soon.
Maybe you’ll shy away, maybe you’ll fall apart
It’s hard being honest, but I’m being honest
Get in the play, running your fingers through my hair
Don’t wanna behave, how do you act when no one’s there?
Feeling inside, feeling a way, it’s different and it’s working
Oh, you make me nervous, oh, you make me nervous
You read it over and flopped back on his pillow…send…you  heard his notification go off ….you waited.
-------------------------
There was a soft knock before he turned the handle.
He looked beautiful standing in the doorway. His pajama pants hung low on his waist, it was the first time you’d caught a glimpse of his body and your breath hitched at the sight.
Wrapped in nothing but his sheet you pulled the covers back in invitation.
He walked over to where you sat,  "Is this what you really want?”
You bit your lip and nodded.
He pulled his pants off letting them fall to the ground and he crawled in beside you.
His hands drew through your hair and his lips found their way to yours…properly, undisturbed, no flashbulbs to commemorate the event. It was soft and languid, his tongue taking its time to explore your mouth.
He pulled away to stare at you, “Tell me I can finally have you."
"All of me Jaebeom…I’m yours.”
He caressed your face, thumb sliding between your lips, over your chin and down your neck as he kissed into the crevice of your collar bone.
It had been so long, yet it had never felt like this. You could feel his desire with every touch, his lips, his fingertips and his hard cock pressed up against your hip.
“I want you so bad J,” your hands tugged through his hair as you wrapped your leg around his body to guide him in closer.
“Shit..Shit…do you have a condom? I just never thought this would happen..fuck"
You both collapsed back onto  the bed breathing heavy.
"Ugh, no,” you sighed frustrated.
He put both hands over his face, disappointed that even this moment couldn’t go smoothly.
You rolled into his side, “I never stopped taking the pill…and after what happened, I did get tested…I mean, if you’re not okay with it..it’s okay…we can wait.”
He placed his hand on your cheek and kissed you softly, “I haven’t been with anyone in years, it’s mandatory we get tested during our physicals…"
"Fuck thank God!” You rolled on top of him and ground yourself over him.
Laying kisses down his chest you let your fingers skim lightly over his abs. His skin tingled with goosebumps under your touch and you felt him twitch at your center.
“Are you ready?”
He nodded biting his lip, “Please."
He held your hips as you lined yourself up over him. Not breaking eye contact you slowly lowered yourself, taking him into you.
You felt like you could cry, it had been so long since you’d let yourself feel the intimacy of  giving yourself to someone.
You both moaned in unison as he hit your cervix. "You feel so good,” he sighed.
You didn’t move, you wanted to feel him in you, feel him filling you, this wasn’t just sex. You were both here, in the same place at the same time feeling the same thing.
There was no past, only two people fusing themselves to one another’s future.
You began rocking your hips. Looking down his face was focused, beautiful, lost. His lips were parted and soft breaths escaped from between them every time you met back together.
He held you pressed against him as he sat upright. Brushing away your sweaty hair he kissed your neck, your shoulders and down to your breasts. He touched them reverently, his fingertips brushing lightly over your nipples making you clench around him.
His face scrunched up, “oh my god baby, you can’t do that.. it feels too good.”
Pushing his hair back you placed kisses all over his face, “We can do this all day, as many times as we want, I’m not going anywhere.”
He secured his arm around you and flipped you onto your back.
Hands on both sides of your face he rolled his hips into you. He hit different, deeper, the repetitive sliding building up the orgasm inside you.
It wasn’t rushed but it was excited, your hands, mouths and bodies had no motive other than providing each other pleasure.
Wrapping both legs around him you held him tightly against your core. “I’m so close Jaebeom, so close…”
Your head was thrown back and your hands gripped the pillows beside you. You felt him cumming, spilling out of you as he continued. He didn’t give up until your nails were dug deep into his skin and he could feel you pulsing around him.
He collapsed on top of you trying to catch his breath, “Are you okay? Was it okay?”
You couldn’t help but smile at his sincerity, “It was perfect.”
Your voice trailed off and immediately noticing, he sat up to look at you.
“I’m scared Jaebeom, I don’t want this to start wrong, I don’t want to keep us a secret."
"Then let’s not.” He grabbed his phone and held it up to take a picture.
“Are you fucking nuts?” You asked while hiding in the sheets beside him.
He tapped the keys, “What are you writing?”
He wouldn’t answer you, “Jaebeom-ah, give me the phone…stop!"
Smiling he hit SHARE and handed it to you.
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What you need to know:
1: I am in love with a girl and I think that she’s in love with me.
2: I am incredibly happy.
What you don’t need to know:
1: Anything else about us.
2: Especially not why I’m in bed at 2:30 in the afternoon
3: Or that Y/Ns hiding under the covers beside me.
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embrassemoibebe · 4 years
Text
dating kit walker would include:
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warning(s) ― minimal spoilers for asylum & aliens
additional notes ― takes place after asylum, lowercase intended.
after escaping briarcliff, the alma/grace situation, kit decided the best thing for him and his kids would be to move somewhere quiet and safe.
the town he moved to was quite small, on the outskirts of the suburbs and most of the people he’d met were kind. 
the school was nice too - that’s a plus - and he got himself a job working as a mechanic.
on his first day, they ordered lunch from a close diner and kit being his kind self he offered to go get it and as he walked into the nearby dinner he saw you.
he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you and after seeing that you didn’t have a ring on your finger he was quick to turn on his charm
“hi, darling, order for...” he’d start with a cute pet name “you know, i just gotta say this, you are gorgeous.”
usually, when guys came in and flirted with you, you’d known them since first grade but this handsome stranger actually made you blush. “what’s your name handsome? i don’t think i’ve seen you before.”
he’d smile “my names kit. i just moved here.” 
after your car breaks down he fixes it for you
non-stop flirting the entire time
he keeps trying to impress you but spills oil on himself
you both laugh it off and when it’s time for his lunch break, he walks you back to the diner and you two have lunch together
he shows you julia and thomas
“this is julia, my daughter, and my son, thomas.”
“they’re adorable!”
“thanks... they’re kind of all i have left now.”
when you ask for an explanation on that [gloomy] question he’d explain his wife passed away
and how he doesn’t have any family (other than his kids) because his mom passed a few years back
he leaves out the alien, asylum, and murder bits
then he’d fix your car and you’d give him your number
he’d wait a few weeks to ask you out
he’ll come in to get lunch or after his shift to flirt with you. sometimes he come in to get some coffee and he’ll grab it and wink on his way out. over the few weeks, you’d learned certain things about him. 
he had two children a boy and a girl (julia and thomas), he’d been married, and he moved for a quiet lifestyle. 
finally, he’d come in after his shift, covered in grease and ask for a coffee. as you bring it to him he’d strike up a conversation “so, i was thinking that if you weren’t busy we could go on a date this friday?”
you smile and nod shyly “okay... what do you wanna do?”
“well,” he start “i thought we could go to the cinema and then maybe have a picnic? is that okay, sugar?”
so, that friday, after he dropped the kids off at school he came and picked you up. driving into the suburbs and taking you to see a movie. 
he’s a gentleman to the core but he’s also a huge flirt.
so you know the entire time he’s opening doors, pulling out your chair, helping you up steps, all the while winking, complimenting, and flirting with you. 
also, he bought you flowers.
the picnic is super sweet. he packed some sandwiches, fruit, some sweet tea, and a nice blanket for you both to sit on.
you two would talk about anything and everything. the clouds, work, the movie, things happening in the world, but he’d especially light up when he talked about his kids and showed you photos.
which you thought was adorable. 
julia and thomas would meet you after a couple more dates.
kit was super nervous to introduce you to the kids, you were too, what if they didn’t like you? 
but his kids love you, julia is super excited to meet new people and she immediately wants to show you all her dolls and other toys. thomas wants to show you his drawings and sport skills.
kit lets them do whatever they want as long as they behave and prepares lunch for you and them, by the time he comes back, you're dressed up as a princess (whether your a boy or a girl) and thomas is showing you how good he is at basketball.
you two only get a moment of peace after he puts them to bed and you two spend the rest of your time together cuddling on the couch and watching a movie.
kit as a boyfriend
lots of picnics, spending time with jules and thomas, late-night calls
after around three months you stay the night for the first time
nothing happen, just some heavy pettings
sunday mornings are his favorite.
playing with his curls while you two cuddle and watch cartoon with the kids
so many dad jokes
he’s like the king of dad jokes
“what time did the guy go to the dentist? Tooth-hurty!”
“do you want the milk in a bag, sir?”
“no, just leave it in the carton.”
speaking of grocery stores
the workers love him. because he comes in all the time and buys you chocolates, flowers, toys for the kids
it’s not uncommon to see him, cover in oil, cashing his check
he has a lot of pet names
the kids making grossed out sounds whenever you two kiss or show affection
but they love seeing their dad happy and they’re used to it
his response is to always run up and shower them with kisses
he just loves affection - public or private
he’s a dork
is very protective of you because of his past
walks/drives you everywhere
randomly starts running around the house:
“y/n!?”
“kit, what’s wrong!?”
“...i just wanted to here your voice.”
kit probably wants you to move in fast (as long as your comfortable)
the kids loves you, he loves you, and you love him
but also, he doesn’t want to rush anything
and he doesn’t want to freak out the kids
so you’d probably have to approach the topic
he’s a modern-age man
kit is all for women having jobs outside of the house
want be a teacher? go for it
actress? he’ll support you through sucess and failures
office job? anything you want, sugar!
even if you make more money than him, he’s cool with it
but, he’s also fine with you staying home with the kids
as long as your happy
when kit knows you make him the happiest he’s ever been
you wake up in the middle of the night to kit squirming and saying quick mumbles in a panic
you wake him up and hold him for a few
then he opens up to you about everything that happens
and you believe him
that morning kit wakes up and finds you, in his shirt, with the kids playing in the kitchen while you make pancakes.
you walk over and hand him some coffee and give him a kiss and it’s just... peace.
and he’s happy.
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the end
i hope you enjoyed this! i write for multiple fandoms so please checkout my page. request are closed. taglist is open.
⤷ you may also like: nsfw alphabet & kit walker
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Chapter 3
By GleefulDarrenCrissFan He and Kurt had made a plan to meet up at his house and spend the whole weekend together. Burt had agreed reluctantly, but he knew that their time living close together was limited so he told Kurt he could go as long as he promised to be safe and respectable. It was the respectable part that Blaine was pretty sure that they were going to ignore. 
He and Kurt left glee practice around the same time, but Blaine arrived first, so he decided to get everything ready. Although Kurt had become much more comfortable and confident with sex, Blaine knew he’d have to take the lead after seeing Kurt’s embarrassment regarding the subject. 
He was perfectly fine with just making this experience about Kurt. He found he was excited about being on the giving end. In fact, he had read countless articles about it in order to prepare. He even made a stop at the local sex shop to get a few supplies that might make the experience more enjoyable, although it was pretty awkward. He ran into Sebastian while holding a box of dental dams, and of course, Sebastian made a crass remark about showing him how to use them properly. He ended up going to the checkout counter without them, although he did remember a tip about splitting a condom and cutting off the tip to make one or he could even use Saran Wrap, whatever made it more comfortable for Kurt.
He found himself bouncing on his toes as he listened to Kurt’s navigator pull into his driveway. This weekend was going to be so amazing, just the two of them, alone and able to do anything they wanted with each other, or to each other. Blaine felt himself harden in his pants just at the thought of it. “Damn it. Not yet,” he sighed as he shifted his thoughts to think of something, anything, to make his issue go away. Rachel Berry kissing him. Brittany’s and Santana’s sex tape. Jacob Ben Israel in a speedo. No Blaine. You want it to go down not scar himself to the point of trauma. Sebastian buying sex toys. That did it. Blaine shook his head and sighed as he opened the door so he could help Kurt with his overnight bag. 
Kurt smiled as he opened the passenger door and grabbed his bag. “Hey.”
“No, no. I was going to grab that for you.”
“You can get the ones in the back,” Kurt shrugged.
“You have more than one? You’re only staying for the weekend, Kurt.”
“Don’t judge me. I happen to know that when we went to Chicago, you had a bag just for your hair care products. That’s what’s in this one.” Kurt said, holding up the overnight bag. “Well, and my facial cleansers. And I needed clothes. That’s what the suitcase is for.”
“And the little one? Do you have shoes in there? You know, we’re probably going to stay inside most of the time, unless you want to swim in the pool,”
“Um, it’s supplies, for, you know, the thing we wanted to try. I’ve been doing some reading on it, and there are some risks involved. So I got us some things that might help make the experience better.”
Blaine’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “You got supplies? Where?” He reached for the small overnight bag but Kurt grabbed it before he could. Blaine reached for it again. 
Kurt bit his lip nervously as he held the bag close to his chest. “At a supply store.”
“You went to a sex shop? You-” Blaine grabbed Kurt’s face and kissed Kurt’s lips passionately. He reached for the bag again and Kurt maneuvered the bag behind his back as Blaine slid his hands from Kurt’s shoulders down his back to his ass, squeezing firmly. 
“Blaine, we’re outside,” Kurt said, looking around nervously, his cheeks blushing bright red. “Someone might see.”
“Then, let’s go inside,” Blaine whispered into Kurt’s ear and then dropped a few kisses to his neck. Kurt turned to the door, the bag dropping to the driveway. Blaine reached for it, but Kurt hurriedly snatched it up from the ground. “Uh uh. This is for later. Show me to my room, Mr. Anderson.”
“Not yet,” Blaine whispered seductively as he pressed Kurt against the door and kissed him passionately, his tongue sliding in between Kurt’s lips. Their tongues danced as Blaine’s hands slid down to Kurt’s ass, and he gave it a firm squeeze. “I can’t wait to take care of you,” he said as he started kissing Kurt’s jaw and made his way to Kurt’s adam’s apple before he realized that Kurt had stopped making noises and had tensed a little in his back. “What’s wrong?”
“Well. I thought since I was staying the whole weekend, we would use tonight for other things. To plan and to talk about what we want. Plus, we need a lot of prep to do this or it could end up being embarrassing or gross, and I don’t want that. I don’t think either of us does. So I have a plan.”
Blaine nodded. “Ok, so what does this plan entail?”
“Well, first, it entails you taking me to my room so I can unpack. Some of the things I brought were for our exploratory escapades tomorrow, so we need to talk about them and I planned for us to use a product tonight.
Blaine’s pupils seemed to grow dark immediately. “Then, by all means, let’s go unpack.”
_____________________________________________________________
“So when you said we’d use something in the bag tonight, this was not what I had in mind,” Blaine frowned as he held the wax in his hand. “Have you ever used this before?”
“I’ve waxed my eyebrows before, but I’ve never used this type before. Santana has. She said it wasn’t that bad.”
“Wait, Santana knows about this?” Blaine’s mouth dropped open in shock. 
“Well, I needed to find a place that had what we needed, and I knew Santana would know just the place. Besides, I had a lot of questions and she was the only person I knew that would know about it and not freak out.”
“Oh God. she’s going to give us so much hell over all of this. You know that she’s not going to be able to keep from blabbing about this,” Blaine grumbled.
“She won’t if she knows what’s good for her. I have dirt on her too. We had a pretty intense talk on the way home, and she spilled some things I don’t think she’d want me just telling anyone. Besides, she’s not as bitchy as everyone thinks she is if you’re her ally.”
“And we are?” 
“We are, I think.” Kurt smiled, grabbing the wax. “Now, do you want to do me first or do you want me to do you?”
“That’s a loaded question if I’ve ever heard one,” Blaine chuckled. “The article I read said you could just shave the area.”
“And the article I read said that’s a bad idea because it itches when the hair grows back and there’s a chance to get cuts and nicks in really delicate areas. Besides, it says there’s more of a chance that you could develop ingrown hairs and that’s supposed to hurt like a bitch.” Kurt looked up at Blaine to notice that his boyfriend was staring at him. “What?”
“It’s just, you really researched this like you’re actually into it.”
Kurt took Blaine’s hand in his. “I’m into you, and this is your fantasy. You’ve fulfilled mine more than once, especially the time you set up your Ipod in that field and brought in all those lilacs.”
“You said that was overkill.”
“You brought squirt bottles to spray the flowers so it was like a dewy meadow and talked like Jacob from Twilight the whole time. I almost expected a sparkly vampire to appear,” Kurt giggled. “But it was amazing. And it was all my fantasy. It’s my turn to fulfill one for you, and I intend to make it as special for you as you did for me.”
“So is that the reason we’re the waxing tonight?”
“Exactly. Santana said that waxing can be a little painful, especially in sensitive places, and the ass is probably the most sensitive place you could do it. One of the articles I read said that the area might be red and sore afterward, and I don’t think we’ll be up for anything sexual after we do that.” Kurt laid out several clean towels on the counter and plugged in the trimmer. 
Blaine starred at Kurt again in wonderment. “Do we really have to do this? I’ve seen you naked. You aren’t really that hairy. Besides, if we’re using protection, we shouldn’t even come in contact with it.”
“Blaine, it’s a lot more sanitary to remove the hair. Hair traps things there you don’t want to be there, like toilet paper or even fecal matter.”
Blaine winced. “Well, when you say it like that, I guess it’s a necessary evil. But I just have a feeling that I’m going to be like Steve Carell in the forty-year-old virgin, yelling obscenities at you and not being able to finish. I’ll look and feel like a-”
“An ass?” Kurt teased.
Blaine laughed. “Yeah. And I don’t want that either.” He sighed. “You know what. Let’s just ease into this. We have so many other things we haven’t tried yet, and I’m ok with what we already do. I don’t want to spend all this time prepping for this and it ends up being awful.”
Kurt smiled softly. “We’ll do whatever you are comfortable with doing today. But at least hear my plan. First, wash each other and exfoliate the skin. You’ve been doing that, right?”
“Uh, I’m your boyfriend. I know how important you rate exfoliation and skincare,” Blaine laughed. “My parents are grateful that I have my own bathroom.”
“Ok, that will make it easier.” Kurt began removing other items from the duffel bag. Two new loofahs, a trimmer, exfoliating cream, oils, baby powder, gloves, and lots of popsicle sticks.”
“There’s a lot of stuff here, Kurt. Where do we start?”
“The articles I read say to make sure that everything is clean. So, we’ll shower first. Then, we need to trim. The instruction guide says that too much hair can be really painful and too little can cause you to remove the skin. I’ve made that mistake once. It hurts like hell. Do you want to shower first, or do you want me to?”
“Why don’t we shower together? We can make sure we are good and exfoliated,” Blaine said with a grin. “Besides, we can have a little fun, just in case the waxing has us so sore that we don’t get to anything else.”
“I like the way you think,” Kurt said with a wink. “But it’ll be fine. Lot’s of men manscape now. How bad could it be?”
_____________________________________________________
“Ok, I’m pretty sure the wax has set,” Kurt smiled as he stirred the wax with a stick. Grab the baby powder and then turn over on the towel. 
Blaine removed the towel around his waist and laid down flat on the clean towel Kurt had laid down in the bathtub. “Like that, Mr. Hummel?” Blaine asked, wiggling his ass at Kurt.
“Getting cheeky, Blaine?�� Kurt teased. “You need to stay still. I’m going to trim the area first, and there’s a lot of it.”
“Are you trying to say I’m overly hairy?” Blaine chuckled.
“Oohhh, sharp, Blaine. That’s exactly what I’m saying. The article said the longer the hair, the more it hurts. I got a really good trimmer though. It’s supposed to be the best.”
“Alright, I trust you. Just be careful.” Kurt turned on the trimmer and started at the top of Blaine’s cheeks. Blaine winced. 
“Stay still, Blaine. I don’t want to cut you.”
Blaine pouted. “Sorry. It tickles. And why did you start there?”
“The article suggested starting there first if you’ve never waxed before. It said it would be a good way to test if you can handle the pain.”
“Kurt, I have a pretty high pain tolerance. I told you about fight club. I’ve never lost a match.”
“Yeah, but you’ve probably never had anyone rip the hair straight from your ass either. It’s gonna smart a little.“ Kurt advised as he wiped the cut hairs away. “There. I think that’s good enough. I’m going to apply the powder now.” Kurt began shaking the baby powder on Blaine’s butt. He slapped it playfully when Blaine raised his butt up a little in the air. 
“Oh yes, spank me.”
Kurt blushed. “Blaine, you might want to stay still. I’m about to apply the wax. I have to apply it a certain way.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t hot?”
“It’s not, but it needs to be applied in small increments, and I have to make sure that I go in the right direction. I need to go in the same direction as the hair so that when I pull it, it goes against the grain.”
“You mean, you’re going to do it small patches? You might as well tweeze them if you’re going to do that. You can do a whole cheek. I can take it. And if it hurts, you can kiss it better,” Blaine suggested cheekily.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. It’s ok. Slather it on there. Get it all off at once. I don’t want you to have to go back over the same area multiple times. I’m ready. Just do it,”
Blaine tensed his body as he felt Kurt grab the lip at the end of the strip of wax. “Are you ready? I can do it gently. I have the oils right here. Tell me if it hurts too bad or-”
“For the love of Vogue, just do it alrea- HOLY SHIT On A CRACKER! Geez, Kurt, how much hair did you get?”
“You told me to cover the whole cheek. Are you ok? And what the hell is holy shit on a cracker?” Kurt laughed.
“That hurt like hell, Kurt. Are you sure you applied it correctly?”
“I did it exactly like the package instructed. I told you it’s a sensitive area. That’s the reason I was going to do small patches.”
“I don’t know if I can take that again. I think I’d rather you use a cactus as a dildo on me than to do that again.”
“Was it really that bad?”
“Bend over. I’ll do yours next.”
“Do you really want me to stop or do you want me to try a smaller patch?” Kurt asked sincerely. “Do you want me to go ahead and apply the oil? It’s really red.
“At this point, I’d like some morphine and a tub full of ice.”
Kurt gently applied baby oil to Blaine’s sore, red cheek. “Is that any better?”
“I don’t know. Rub it a little more.” Blaine teased. Kurt could feel his muscles get tight as he applied a small strip of wax on the other cheek. “Alright. Do it quick. All at onc- MOTHER FLICKER!”
“What was that?” Kurt bit his lip in an attempt to stifle a laugh. Mother what?”
“You know there’s certain words I try not to say. Shut up.” Blaine pouted, biting his lip
“Is it really that bad?” Kurt massaged baby oil to the spot where he just removed the strip.
“I think I’d rather get my arm caught in a revolving door. How the hell do girls do this all the time?”
“They get used to it. Do you want me to continue? I haven’t even got near your hole yet.”
Blaine jerked his head around. “I’m sorry but if it hurts this bad on my cheeks, there’s no way I’m letting you actually put wax there. I’m sorry. It’s like I said earlier. If we’re using protection, the hair shouldn’t be that much of an issue anyway.”
“So what do you want me to do?” Kurt asked gently.
“I don’t want my ass to look like Steve Carell’s chest.”
“Noone’s going to see it but me, and it’s ok. You don’t have to let me finish.” Kurt answered.
“Finish it,” Blaine sighed. “It’ll be ok. Just know that you’re next.”
___________________________________________________________
After an hour break so they could eat and Blaine could sit without too much discomfort, Kurt laid on a clean towel in the bathtub with Blaine bent over his bare ass. He trimmed the hair first and then applied the baby powder to Kurt’s soft, pale cheeks. “God, your ass is so sexy. You know, if you hadn’t suggested the waxing, I probably wouldn’t have said anything. You don’t have that much.”
“Well, then. I guess you don’t have to-”
“Nope. it’s too late now. You waxed my ass, I’m waxing yours.” Blaine slapped the stick down, slathering a small strip of sticky wax on Kurt’s right cheek. “Brace yourself, dear.” Blaine pulled the lip of the strip firmly. 
Kurt bucked his ass and hissed, but he flattened back down.”
“Ok, you can do a bigger strip. It’s ok. I’ve waxed before.”
“Wow, you sure?” Blaine questioned.
“Yeah, just do it. It’s not that bad,” he said as Blaine slathered a much larger amount a little further down, closer to his crack. 
“You sure?” 
“I’m sur- HOLY HELLFIRE AND SLAP YOUR MAMA!”
Blaine cackled. “What was that?”
“You shut up. I didn’t get that area on you all at once. Holy shit!” 
“I told you it hurt,” Blaine said as he rubbed oil on the redness on Kurt’s ass. “Are you ok? Do you need some ice?”
“Screw the ice. Just give me the entire tub of icecream I saw in your freezer.”
Blaine chuckled. “It’s ice cream, not asscream. And I’m not explaining to my mother where it went. I did grab another pack of frozen peas. You threw the other ones away, right?”
“No, Blaine. I put them in the crockpot with a pot roast. Of course, I threw them away. I’m not eating those after they’ve been on your ass.”
“You do know that you’re going to be licking that same ass tomorrow, right?”
“Not if you continue to be such a smartas- NUCKIN FUTS! Warn a guy first. Dammit, Blaine.”
“Sorry. You need the peas?”
“Shut up and remove the hair from my- WELL MOTHER FU-”
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Text
Here to Help: Chapter 3
Word Count: 4493
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Discussion of suicide event, mentions of abuse, and while Peter doesn't actually have an eating disorder, his behavior/the descriptions may be triggering to some.
Synopsis: Tony and Peter go shopping and update Peter’s suit!
Click here to read previous chapters!
Click here to read on AO3!
“Peter, stop looking at the price tags, they don’t matter,” I said. Peter looked up at me, then dropped the tag on a pair of pants and shoved his hands into his pockets, looking nervously around the store. Peter had only one thing in the cart: a pair of jeans from the clearance aisle. He seemed to be having a very hard time trying to find something that he wouldn’t feel guilty for getting. I kept trying to assure him he wasn’t being greedy but it wasn’t doing much good.
Peter knew that he couldn’t wear the same clothes every day, but he seemed to be terrified of getting new ones at the same time.
“C’mon kid, there’s gotta be something in this store you like,” I said. Peter looked around, an almost scared looked growing on his face.
“I--I’m sorry Mr. Stark, it’s just everything here is so expensive looking--”
“Oh my god!” I said, smacking myself on the forehead. Peter jumped, then stared at me like I was crazy. “Jesus I’m an idiot , I brought you to a billionaire style store instead of a Peter Parker style store--”
“A what now?”
I grabbed Peter’s hand and started pulling him out of the boutique.
“Of course you don’t like any of the stuff here, you don’t go to stores where they sew the clothes with gold thread. I’m taking you somewhere more your speed.”
“My speed?” Peter said, as we hopped into the car.
“Yep.” I pulled up the location on my phone, then held it out for Happy to see. “Drive us here Happy.”
Happy grumbled and then set off. Peter wrung his hands beside me, looking more and more worried.
“Hey,” I said, and he looked at me. He looked so scared that I squeezed his hand. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“Yeah, I’m just--I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You seem nervous,” I said.
“I, um, well a little bit, but I’m okay,” he said. But he didn’t relax. I almost said more, but Happy pulled into a parking lot and I looked out the window. And I couldn’t help but grin at what I saw.  
It was a Target store. Not a billionaire, I-pay-people-to-look-at-me store. Just a normal Target.
“Is this more your speed Underoos?” Peter looked out the window and gasped.
“Are you kidding? My speed is fuckin’ Goodwill--This is awesome!” he said excitedly. “Aunt May never liked buying me clothes, she would just grab random stuff off the racks in the men’s section at Goodwill and make me wear them. Most of it wasn’t the right size.”
I couldn’t help feeling sad for him, but he was out of the car before I could say anything.
When Peter entered the store, he gazed around it like a child on Christmas day, looking far too excited for someone entering a common grocery store. He practically skipped to the menswear area, and started sifting through all the clothes without having to be prompted at all.
Peter found several superhero and science joke shirts that he liked, and after I reassured him that yes he could buy all of them, we went to the changing rooms to try some on.
But it only took one outfit for Peter to realize something was wrong. He came back out of the changing rooms with most of the clothes still folded up in their original position, and a frown on his face.
“What’s up kid? Not the right size?”
“No--Uh well, yes, but also no, um…” He scratched his head while he gathered his thoughts. “Well these would be the right size, if I was my normal weight. But um, I’m not. The only ones that fit me were the small sizes.”
“What size normally fits you?” I asked.
“Medium. Sometimes large, depending on the brand.”
“I see. Well, why don’t we pick out the clothes in a size that would fit you normally, and then we can just get you a few belts that you can wear until they fit you better? The shirts will still be a bit baggy but you’ll grow into them. Does that sound good?”
Peter beamed and nodded vigorously, putting his pile of clothes into the shopping cart. Eventually we got almost everything he needed (I snuck in a few “expensive” things that Peter wouldn’t even look at). Peter now had plenty of shirts, pants, sweaters, coats, socks, underwear, and pajamas to last him quite a long time. Now the only thing he needed was a couple belts.
Peter started to say that he really only needed one, when I cut him off, saying that having at least two was good in case the other one broke. To be honest, I really just wanted to be able to spend more money on Peter. I wanted to communicate to him that money was and never will be an issue for him, and that I loved him enough to spend copious amounts of it on him.
However another problem arose when Peter started trying to find the right ones.
“Uh, Mr. Stark?” he said, putting the belts he had picked out back on the rack. “None of these are small enough for me.”
“They’re not?” I said, frowning at them in confusion. Though as I took a closer look I realized there was no way for any of these to fit him. None of the holes went back far enough.
“But, how do the pants you’re wearing right now fit you? They must have become too large just like your shirt.”
Peter turned red.
“Uh--Well…” he said, before lifting his shirt a little so I could see his waistband. Instead of a belt, he had a strip of cloth that was tied in a knot in the front.
“It’s um, a bit of one of my old shirts,” he said, putting his shirt back down. “Aunt May always bought me clothes that were too big anyway, and she never bought me belts or anything, so I usually ended up cutting up an old shirt or using shoelaces from old shoes.”
I looked at him for a moment, before pulling him into a tight hug. Peter gave a squeak of surprise, but after a second or so he hugged me back. When we broke apart he looked up at me in confusion.
“What was that for? I wasn’t even sad.”
“I would hate to be anything like your Aunt. Which means that I give you so many hugs you have no idea what to do with them all. But it also means that I’m going to have a couple belts made specially for you.”
Peter started to open his mouth to protest, but I raised a finger to stop him.
“I know you don’t like me spending money on you like that but this time you really need it. I’m not having you wear bits of old shirts with your new clothes until you fit into them. I promise, this is the only billionaire-style article of clothing I’ll buy you, and even then it’ll look just like a normal belt. Is that alright?”
Peter hesitated, then nodded.
“Alright then. Looks like we’re done shopping! I’ll get us checked out, you can go back to the car and wait with Happy. And no , you may not come to the checkout with me, I know you’re going to try and look at the price,” I said sternly, and Peter gave me a slightly disappointed look before leaving.
I kept an eye on him as he started to walk out, but I did a double-take when he paused for a fraction of a second, raising a hand to clutch his stomach. He made a beeline to the drinking fountains near the entrance, and drank deeply, chugging the water for almost a full minute. Then he left, disappearing through the automatic doors.
I checked my watch and realized it was almost three pm. We had breakfast almost five hours ago, and now that I’m paying attention I realize I’m actually pretty hungry. Which means Peter must be absolutely starving.
I sighed, and pinched the bridge of my nose.
That must’ve been why he was so nervous in the car. He was hungry. Why can’t I seem to take care of him properly? Why doesn’t he feel like he can tell me these things? Is it something I’m doing wrong?
No, there’s no time to dwell on that now. He’s obviously famished, so I have to grab him something to eat in the car to hold him over until we can get him some real food.
If I had been thinking a little more clearly I would’ve gone to see if they had any healthy snacks for him, something with actual protein, but instead I grabbed the first thing I saw, which happened to be a family size pack of oreos. Yep, I'm a great caregiver, I totally, 100% know what I'm doing.
I got everything checked out as fast as I could and got it loaded into the car with Happy’s help. Peter had gotten out to try and help as well, but I told him to stay in the car, saying I had a little surprise for him. Curiosity and guilt battled on his face as he hesitantly got back into the car.
Crap. I didn’t mean for him to feel guilty. Maybe if I told him he needed to eat he would feel less guilty. But he does have to learn that he’s worthy of things he doesn’t actually need. But then again, I was barely able to convince him to let me buy him clothes, something that is far more important than oreos. I wouldn’t be surprised if he won’t even touch the cookies when I give them to him.
I closed the trunk, and Happy got into the front seat while I sat next to Peter in the back. I told Happy to take us home, shut the window between the front and back seats, and then held up the oreos for Peter to see.
Peter’s eyes went wide. His stomach gurgled quietly and pressed his hand to it, as though trying to silence it under his palm. Then his face turned bright red and he looked away.
“Sorry I didn’t feed you earlier,” I said, holding them out to him. “My bad. I’m shit at remembering when I’m supposed to eat, much less than you have to eat more often than me.”
“You don’t have to be sorry, it’s not your fault. I should’ve reminded you,” he said, fiddling with his sleeves but still not touching the package.
“I guess that’s true,” I said, setting the package down between us. “But I know that’s hard for you to do. I don’t expect you to instantly improve after one heart-to-heart. Until you’re able to remind me, I’m going to do better and remember myself. Or have Friday remind me. I told you you weren’t going to go hungry anymore and I intend to keep that promise.”
“You shouldn’t have to take care of me. I’m almost sixteen now, I should be able to take care of myself. I should be able to go get food and clothes and everything by myself,” he said, still not acknowledging the package.
“Yeah that’s about the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard some pretty stupid shit. You’re only fifteen, I would be very surprised if you could take care of yourself at all. Your brain stops growing at age twenty-five, and even then most people are shit at taking care of themselves. I don’t think I figured it out until I was twice your age, and I didn’t even have a million things pulling me down like you have.
“Besides,” I continued, opening the package and pushing it towards Peter, who finally sighed and took one, “I’m still bad at taking care of myself, even though I know how to. I don’t sleep, I’m shit at remembering when to eat, and I think I drank nine cups of coffee yesterday. Plus I’m pretty sure that salad we had with dinner last night was the first healthy thing I’ve had in like a month.”
Peter laughed around the cookie in his mouth. He took a few more and started eating them too, and I gave him an encouraging smile.
“And then of course,” I said as we pulled into the garage of Stark Tower, “You don’t need to take care of yourself right now. I’m taking care of you. I am. You have nothing you need to worry about.”
Peter smiled, and continued to eat his cookies.
When we got home, Peter took the oreos, as well as his clothes, to his new bedroom, but didn’t bring the oreos back down. I guessed it was hidden under his bed, with a few cookies left there just in case.
He’d done the same thing with the leftover salad last night. Putting it into a container and pushing it under his hoodie (technically my hoodie, which he stole) when he thought I wasn’t looking, before quickly going to his room.
I really need to contact Steve with this, I thought, as I started putting together a few sandwiches for us. It’s worse than I thought. With Steve, he only did it every once in a while, I think the most he did it was three times a week, and only after a particularly hard mission. But Peter… Peter’s been taking food to save for later at least once a day, usually more.
He’s terrified.
But maybe if I remembered to feed him more he wouldn’t feel the need to do that.
I started to set up a reminder when I realized… I actually have no idea how often Peter needs to eat. These past couple of days it’s been me running around getting custody of him (not in the most ethical of ways either, but I wasn’t about to let him go into the foster care system, so if I had to grease a few palms to get him to be able to stay here, then so be it), so I haven’t been able to keep track of his eating habits as well as I would like. I would really just force food under his nose whenever his stomach growled, which was rather a lot, the poor kid, and then we would have meals together. But there’s no way that’s enough for him.
“Hey kid,” I said, handing him a couple sandwiches and taking a bite of my own as we sat down on the couch. “So, how often do you get hungry?”
“I dunno,” he said, swallowing a bite of sandwich so he could talk. “Pretty often I guess. After I eat breakfast I get hungry maybe an hour later? My stomach starts to hurt an hour after that, then if I still don’t eat I’ll probably pass out before lunch.”
“Jesus kid, how did you make a week out there by yourself?”
“I… didn’t really. I passed out a lot,” he said.
“And no one at work noticed?” I said, surprised.
Peter looked away.
“I would… hide. If I felt like I was going to faint. Go to the bathroom, or climb onto a roof if I was outside taking pictures. Only one person saw me faint because I didn’t make it to the bathroom in time, this kid named Wade. He actually goes to my school, he’s an intern, he just gets people coffee, prints things, runs little errands like that. He bought me coffee everyday, even though I couldn’t pay him back. He even knew how I liked it, which was funny because he could never remember anyone else’s orders.”
“So he saw you faint?” I prompted, hoping to know the rest of the story.
“Yeah. When I came to, he’d carried me and set me on the couch in some random office. He said no one used it anymore so he had a secret hideout in there. Then he told me he was taking me to go to get a sandwich from Mr. Delmar’s. Heh, he said he’d heard my stomach rumbling while I was asleep, said I should’ve eaten breakfast this morning and this wouldn’t happen. That was the day Mr. Delmar put extra stuff on my sandwich too. I guess I had a few different people looking out for me that day,” he said with a smile.
I nodded and thought for a moment. Looks like I’m going to have to find this Wade kid too, see if he wants a new car or something. I hadn’t found time to get Mr. Delmar a gift either. Turns out trying to get custody of a kid you’re not related to takes quite a bit of time, I haven’t had a free moment until today.
And this kid bought Peter coffee. Remembered how he liked it. Every single day. Something tells me those weren’t platonic coffees.
“What about at night? How often do you get hungry then?”
“Well, I don’t get as hungry at night. I’m not using much energy to sleep, you know? But…” Peter bit his lip and looked down. “I do get hungry around the middle of the night. Sometimes I can’t get back to sleep.”
I sighed and put my hand on his back, rubbing it comfortingly.
“I’ve told you you’re allowed to get up and get food, remember? You don’t have to worry that I’ll stop you.”
“Yeah, I know, I know, it’s just so hard. I’ve tried, but almost every single time I’ve talked myself out of it. I did eat something once, but I didn’t eat enough. I just finished a crust of some pizza still left in the box. The kind of thing no one would notice was gone,” Peter said, finishing his sandwiches. I pulled a Hulk bar out of my pocket (not a Spidey Bar, I’m still in the process of making those), and handed it to him.
I rubbed his back again, and he leaned into my touch as he ate the bar. His ribs still stuck out, but not as much as they used to. That’s good, he’s gaining some weight back.
I suddenly got an idea.
I quickly pulled him close and he squeaked in surprise, but then relaxed, snuggling closer to my side.
“Safe?” I said.
“Safe,” he replied.
“Good. Let’s keep it that way. Friday? Remind me when Peter needs to eat. Every hour should be good. On the dot, mind you. Never let me forget about meal times either. And when Peter wakes up at night, be sure to tell him to go grab something from the kitchen. Suggest some things if he’s not sure what he wants.”
“Yes Boss,” Friday said sweetly.
Peter paused for a second, as though unsure that had actually happened. Then he suddenly clutched me closer, hiding his face in my shirt.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “No one has ever done something like that for me before. Well, Ned and MJ and Wade have done things but--”
“It’s not the same,” I said.
“Yeah. It’s nice when your friends help, but it’s also nice when… someone older helps. I’ve never had someone older help me like this. Until I met you.”
“Really? Not even your Uncle Ben?”
“Uncle Ben… Uncle Ben was… I think he was good. He never hurt me like Aunt May did. But he never stopped her either. She hurt him too. He was scared. It got worse after he… was killed. She took it all out on me. No one was there to stop her, and her husband had just died. So she blamed me.”
“She shouldn’t have done that. It’s not your fault he died.”
“Yes it is. I was there, I was in the apartment when he died.”
“…Kid you told me he was killed when someone tried to mug him on the street.”
“I lied,” Peter said.
I froze.
“He didn’t die out there. He died in his room. He shot himself in the head.”
Peter said this as stiffly and as emotionlessly as he could. I could tell he was holding back his tears as he went on.
“I was in the living room. My spidey sense went off five minutes before I heard the shot. He was sitting on his bed with the gun in his hands for five minutes. I should’ve gone in there, I should’ve checked on him. But no, I sat there and I watched tv, making up excuses for why my spidey sense went off--”
“Peter,” I said. “It’s not your fault. I thought the same thing when my parents--”
But I cut off. My parents. Killed by the Winter Soldier. Steve knew. Steve .
No. This is not the time to be thinking about that.
“It’s not your fault. I promise, it’s not your fault, it was his choice. It was a result of the circumstances he was in and it was a bad decision. He shouldn’t have done that, but there was nothing you did wrong. You did nothing wrong.”
Peter took a shuddering breath, before sitting up and wiping tears from his eyes.
“I don’t think I want to talk about that anymore,” he said quietly.
“That’s alright, we don’t have to,” I said. “How about you help me update your suit? We never actually got around to doing that did we?”
Peter’s eyes lit up and he bounced off the couch, sprinting towards the lab, all sorrow evaporating from the air.
“I’ll race you there!” he shouted over his shoulder.
“Hey! You know I have heart problems! And you’ve got Spidey Powers, I think this race is unfair!”
“You gave yourself an arc reactor for a heart but didn’t give yourself superspeed or something? I’m disappointed Mr. Stark!” Peter said as he skidded into the elevator and repeatedly pressed the Close Door button.
“Friday, do not let those doors close!”
“Yes Boss.”
“Hey that’s cheating!”
“If Spidey Powers isn’t cheating then using Friday isn’t cheating,” I said, almost falling into the elevator after him.
When we got out of the elevator Peter sprinted to the lab, and was already getting out tools and pieces of paper when I arrived. We spent the rest of the day working on his suit, to the point where Peter fell asleep on the desk.
It was then that I got an idea.
~~~
I crept back into the lab where Peter was still sleeping, his head on his arms and snoring softly. It was around two am now, and Peter had fallen asleep around ten. He must’ve been pretty exhausted, because even though his stomach was clearly awake and rumbling so loud I could hear it from across the room, the rest of him was dead to the world.
I flicked on the lights, but only so they were bright enough to see where I was going. If his eyes were sensitive like the rest of his senses, I wouldn’t want to overwhelm him with the light.
“Peteeeerrrr,” I said, walking over and shaking his shoulder gently. “C’mon, wake up kid. I made you food!”
Peter snapped up suddenly at “food”, and almost fell out of his chair. He stared at me with bleary, squinted eyes before speaking in a slurred voice.
“Tha’s good, m’tummy is hungry,” he said, rubbing his stomach as it grumbled. “It’s bein’ very loud.”
I could barely hold back a laugh.
“I can tell, it’s been growling for the past ten minutes or so. I just wasn’t done making your food yet. C’mon, lets go get you fed, I think you’ll like what I’ve made for ya.”
As we went down to the dining room, Peter started to wake up more, bouncing a little on his feet in excitement. And when we finally made it to the table, Peter’s eyes went wide at what he saw.
“Pie?” he squeaked.
“Cherry pie,” I said. “My recipe. Well technically one of my great-great-great-great grandmother’s or something, but I make it better than her I’m sure. Anyway I figured we never had dessert so why not have some tonight?”
“I’ve never had this before,” Peter said enthusiastically as he sat down in his usual spot.
“You’ve never had cherry pie?”
“I’ve never had any pie,” Peter said, practically vibrating with excitement and hunger.
I paused at that statement, but quickly started serving Peter slices of pie to mask it.
“Really? Not even pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving?”
“There’s no way we could get any relatives to come over. Everyone knows what Aunt May is like. My last Thanksgiving was the one before my parents died, and I don’t even remember it.”
“Why would your parents leave you with your Aunt and Uncle if they knew what your Aunt was like?”
“I don’t know if they really knew. And technically I wasn’t left with both of them, I was left to Uncle Ben, and he happened to live with her. Then when he died, I was left alone with Aunt May. Maybe my parents thought he would break up with her soon, maybe they forgot to change their wills, maybe they thought she was just crazy and not actually abusive. Either way I ended up living with her. Up until now. Now I’m with you!”
Peter gave me a smile, until his stomach reminded him rather loudly about the food and he dug in.
“Mmmmmmmm…” he moaned, chewing slowly before swallowing. “This is it. I found my favorite pie.”
“Kid I think there are a few other pies you need to try before you decide--”
“Nope, to hell with all the other pies, this is the one, I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”
I laughed and started eating my pie, the flavor of cherry tang bursting on my tongue. Peter finished five slices of pie, though the last two I had to encourage him to eat because he was still hungry, he was just scared to say it. When he finished, he laid back and rested his hands on his belly, sighing happily.
“You full Spider-Boy?” I said.
“It’s Spider-Man. And yes, this was the best. It was like lunch, but instead of the middle of the day it’s the middle of the night. Midnight Lunch. Munch.”
I burst out laughing and Peter joined.
“I’m calling it that now,” Peter said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “It’s called Munch now.”
“Friday, schedule Munch for every day at midnight,” I said.
“Done Boss. Munch is now scheduled,” Friday said, and Peter and I laughed at how funny the word “Munch” sounded when Friday said it.
Eventually we both stopped laughing, and headed to bed.
“Goodnight Peter,” I said.
“Goodnight Mr. Stark,” Peter said with a yawn.
I was just starting to shut my door when Peter spoke again.
“Hey Mr. Stark?”
“Yeah kid?”
“Thank you. For everything.”
I smiled softly.
“It’s no problem. You deserve all the good things. Like I said, I’m here to help.”
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Text
Here for Moral Support
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You and Spencer have been dating for almost a year, and you still have yet to tell the rest of the team (excluding Penelope, who found out the week prior in the most unfortunate of ways). When you realize that Spencer forgot to replenish the condoms in his go-bag, you’ve got one thing on your Target list and one thing only. The mission: get in, buy condoms, and get out before anyone notices.
A/N: I am all for the idea that when he’s in a long-term relationship, Spencer is secretly a flirt/tease. Enough said.
Rating: T (mature topics mentioned, but nothing explicit is written)
(Y/N): Your Name
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Late-night Target runs with the BAU team before a case are tradition, leaving the plane and immediately heading for the nearest Target. We have to get all the supplies we will need for the duration of our stay within the time the store is open for, making it a treasured, yet stressful, experience.
“It closes at midnight, everyone. We’ve got one hour,” Emily announces as Hotch pulls the van into a parking space. “Let’s do this.”
The entire team pours out of the van as soon as it’s in park, speed walking into the store. Spencer and I purposely hang back from the group just far enough to be out of earshot.
“Did you restock the condoms in your go-bag?” I ask quietly, and his eyes grow wide.
“Dammit. I forgot,” he hisses. “We’re going to have to get more here.”
“They’ll all be suspicious if they see them with you,” I warn. “Get in and get out. That’s the mission.”
He nods, but grabs my wrist suddenly. “I forget what kind they are.”
“You have an eidetic memory and you forgot what condoms we get?” I respond, laughing slightly. “I vaguely remember the box, but that’s it.”
He raises an eyebrow. “See? I’m not the only one who doesn’t remember.”
“In my defense, you usually buy them,” I tease, and he rolls his eyes.
“In my defense, I usually order them from Amazon. They’re saved to my favorites.”
I snort. “I think they’re in a blue box, but that’s pretty much every condom ever.”
As soon as the team enters the store, we all head our separate ways. With a quick scan of our coworkers’ directions, we decide it’s safe to head to the condom aisle.
“How are there so many ones to choose from?” Spencer wonders aloud, and I laugh.
“Variety is the spice of life.”
He chuckles. “Oh, all right. How about —“ he picks up a random box, reading it. “Glow in the dark condoms.”
I erupt into a fit of loud laughter. “Your dick would look like a glow stick. Or a lightsaber.”
Spencer laughs, putting the box back on the shelf. “Let’s shelf that idea for now, pun intended.”
“Okay, okay. Are these it?” I take another box off the shelf, turning it around in my hand.
“Mm, nope. Orange flavored,” he reads, scrunching up his nose. “Ew.”
“Ew is right,” I agree, putting them back. “Why are these all specialty condoms?”
He laughs again. “That makes it sound like a drink. Ma’am, what are your specialty condoms?”
“Artisanal condoms,” I gasp out, laughing hysterically, and that sends Spencer into a fit of his own frantic laugher.
“What the hell, guys?”
Both of us immediately turn to the familiar voice, and I can see Spencer die a little bit inside at the sight of Morgan.
“Uh,” he gapes. “Um —“
“Artisanal condoms,” I snort, falling into another fit of uncontrollable laughter.
Derek quirks an eyebrow. “Reid, are you buying condoms?”
“Attempting to,” he blurts out, mentally kicking himself as soon as he says it.
“...with (Y/N)?”
“I’m here for moral support,” I joke, but suddenly spot the familiar box just in front of me.
In a rush of absolutely not caring, I grab it off the shelf, double-checking the size, and throw it into the basket Reid grabbed as we walked in.
“Holy shit,” Derek half-laughs, half-scoffs. “No way.”
Spencer simply sighs, fighting back a smile as he runs his free hand over his face. “I am too tired for this.”
“When did this start?” Derek motions between us, grinning wildly. “Because I so called it.”
“You never know, Derek, we could just be friends with benefits,” I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms as I fight to keep from laughing at both his and Spencer’s entirely unimpressed faces.
“Nah, I know you two,” he rebukes. “You’re not the type. How long’s it been?”
“Our one year anniversary is a week from tomorrow,” Reid answers, and Morgan’s jaw drops.
“An entire year? Damn. Good for you two. Have you told anyone else?”
“Garcia knows. JJ suspects something, but she didn’t say anything,” I reply. “We were planning on telling the team, but this case came up and we felt like we should wait until afterwards.”
“But you couldn’t wait to buy condoms,” he teases, and Spencer rolls his eyes.
“We ran out!”
Morgan chuckles. “I get it, I get it. Are you going to tell the team now?”
“What, now that our secret is slowly being leaked?” I grin. “Maybe. That’s up to Spence.”
He shrugs. “The only one who would have an issue with it would be Hotch.”
“He loves us,” I respond. “He’s going to give us the whole love vs duties of the job spiel, but we both knew that was coming.”
“He’ll be happy for you both,” Derek adds. “I won’t say anything, though. But I have your backs no matter what.”
Spencer smiles. “Thanks, Morgan.”
He nods, beaming at both of us. “Now, I’d buy those quickly, because even if you’re planning to tell the team, I can’t imagine you want to do it this way.”
“That is very true,” I laugh, grabbing Spencer’s hand and pulling him in the direction of the self-checkout. “See you in a few, Derek. Thanks for everything.”
“Of course, kid.”
“You’re so cute,” Spencer muses, pressing a kiss to my cheek as we walk to the front of the store. “I feel all giddy all of a sudden.”
I laugh. “Well, your best friend finally knows about an important part of your life. That’s got to feel freeing.”
“I guess so,” he sighs happily, swiping his card to pay. “I want to tell the team tonight.”
“Tonight?” I repeat. “That’s fine, but are you sure you’re not running on the high of relief?”
“No, that’ll happen later tonight,” he winks, and I roll my eyes, slapping his arm as he laughs.
“Okay, fine. We’ll take an order of one awkward car ride to go.”
******
“Seatbelts on?” Hotch asks, and I can barely hear Emily’s muttered “Yes, dad.” Spence and I stifle a laugh, and JJ rolls her eyes.
Rossi inputs the hotel’s information into the GPS, setting us up for a fifteen minute drive, and he then begins to read out our room assignments. “Alright, looks like we’ve got Reid and Morgan, JJ and Prentiss, Garcia and (Y/N), and Hotch and I. Any questions?”
“I have one,” Spencer interjects, and I catch the highly entertained look Derek shoots in our direction. “Can I switch roommates with Garcia?”
“Oh, happily,” she agrees, but confusion sets over most of the van.
“Why, Reid?” Hotch asks. “We usually try to pair same-sex roommates together.”
“Well,” he continues. “It’s hard for me to sleep without (Y/N).”
“Oh my god,” Emily gasps. “I knew it!”
JJ smiles, reaching back and patting Spencer’s knee. “I’m so happy for you both.”
“You kids are good for each other,” Rossi remarks from the passenger’s seat. “Congrats.”
“Well, given the circumstances,” Hotch comments, “I don’t see anything wrong with switching roommates, Reid.”
“Thanks, Hotch.”
Hotch smiles, meeting our eyes in the rear view mirror. “I’m happy for you two.”
“Oh, God, finally!” Penelope sighs. “I have known for almost a week, and I have been positively dying!”
“How’d you find out?” Emily asks, then looks to Derek. “Did you know too?”
“I only just found out in Target,” he replies. “So yes, but no.”
Garcia raises her eyebrows, and I groan, burying my face in Spencer’s shoulder.
“I found them coming out of my bathroom post-quickie.”
“Oh my god,” JJ laughs slightly, more at our embarrassment than at the initial circumstance. “Well then.”
“Kids,” Rossi chuckles quietly. “I remember those days.”
“I hope you were on your breaks and not on company time,” Hotch admonishes, but not without the obvious hint of a smile.
“Yes, sir,” I nod, and Derek snorts.
“So, how long have you been together?” Rossi asks.
“It’ll be one year a week from tomorrow,” I respond, and the van erupts into protest.
“An entire year? And you didn’t tell us?” Emily exclaims. “That’s impressive.”
“We wanted something for ourselves for a little while,” Spencer explains. “But we’re ready to share now.”
“Especially since I’m going to have to change my address on my tax forms, Hotch,” I joke. “We’re moving in together when we get back from this case.”
“Oh my god, you’re going to carpool,” Garcia says excitedly. “That’s so cute!”
“I hope you know that you won’t have any personal life outside of work anymore,” Rossi teases, and Spencer smiles.
“We know. That’s what happens when you’re a family.”
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audreycritter · 5 years
Link
“This is idiotic,” Damian Wayne spat, staring at the shelves packed with slender boxes. “Asinine. I love none of these people.”
“Little D,” Stephanie Brown cajoled. “It’s not about love. It’s about showing people up and getting candy.”
“We are not allowed to include foodstuffs of any kind. ‘Allergy concerns.’”
“Okay, yeah, that’s dumb,” Stephanie said. “Look. These are glow in the dark bugs. Those are pretty cool, right?”
“How am I supposed to express love or affection with falsely bioluminescent arachnids?” Damian demanded, after a brief perusal of the box of Valentine’s Cards.
“I think you’re still missing the point,” Stephanie said, pulling another box down. “How about dogs? You like dogs.”
“These are not dogs. These are monstrosities with severe ocular issues.”
“You know, sometimes you sound just like your dad,” Stephanie said between her clenched teeth. She slid the box back on the shelf and put her hands on her hips to survey the display. “Anything look good? Anything at all?”
Damian exhaled tightly and his eyes darted from one shelf to the other.
“Those,” he said, pointing imperiously.
“Wow,” Stephanie said, looking at his hand and raising an eyebrow. “It’s almost like you forgot I’m not your servant or something.”
He shot her an expression of profound displeasure and stomped forward and snatched the pink box.
“These?” Stephanie raised an eyebrow and looked at the Disney princesses on the box he shoved into her hands. “Dames…”
“They are obviously mere caricatures of the originals, but the princess stories are referential to centuries-old myths and legends and are, I have been led to believe, an admirable entry-point into the educational pursuit of cultural study.”
“So that’s how Dick got you to watch Beauty and the Beast,” Stephanie muttered to herself. She put the box back. “Sorry, Damian. I can’t let you do that to yourself.”
“Do what. I didn’t want to engage in this mockery of a holiday to begin with,” he snarled. “Those are the ones I like.”
“Kiddo,” Stephanie said, bending and propping her hands against her knees while she got to something close to eye level with him. “I’m all for the deconstruction of gender roles, but this is a fifth grade classroom in Jersey. They will mock the shit out of you.”
“Then we will be maintaining tradition,” Damian said sourly, twisting away. “I don’t care about any of them anyway. Let’s purchase the diseased dogs so we can leave.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Stephanie said, grabbing his arm. He shrugged it off just as quickly but stopped walking away. “What aren’t you telling me? What tradition? Do they make fun of you?”
Damian rolled his eyes and then frowned sullenly at the store exit, as if longing for it to be closer. He tapped his foot on the floor and sighed loudly.
“C’mon. Fess up. I gotta know if Auntie Steph has to go kick some tiny asses.”
That got a slight quirk of a smile out of him, but his tone was dismissive. “I can defend myself. I do not require your assistance.”
“And?” Stephanie prompted.
Damian got very, very quiet and still. “They leave me alone,” he said. “The tradition I was referring to was my own fault for misunderstanding the assignment the previous year.”
“What...assignment? D, I’m not following.”
“We were instructed to bring Valentine’s Cards for the class. Art is an area I excel in and I was eager to demonstrate my skill.”
Stephanie felt cold weight sink in her stomach like a cannonball. She swallowed and resisted the urge to cover her face with both hands.
“You drew everyone an individual card, didn’t you,” Stephanie asked, already knowing the answer. She felt like crying in the Bristol Rite Aid.
“It was not received the way I anticipated,” Damian admitted, his tone blank and his face even more so. “It was clear I had misunderstood. The other Valentine’s, even homemade, were uniform in nature.”
“Oh my god,” Stephanie said under her breath. “Why didn’t Dick tell you? Why didn’t…”
“I am not accustomed to asking for assistance with school assignments. He inquired and I told him I was more than capable of managing alone. He was busy at the time, anyway.”
“Damian,” Stephanie said, quick-stepping around to face him. She put her hands on both shoulders and, again, let him shrug her off. “Damian, that was...incredibly, amazingly sweet of you. If they didn’t appreciate that, then they’re idiots. You’re right. They’re all idiots. The entire thing is idiotic. Each one of them should have fucking loved a card like that.”
“It is not their fault,” Damian said stiffly. “I should not have expected American fourth grade students to appreciate accurate renderings of the neo gothic architecture unique to Gotham.”
“Oh my god,” Stephanie said again, dragging him into a brief hug. She let him go and grabbed a random box of Avengers Valentine’s from the shelf. “Okay. This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to buy these, and I’m going to buy a stupid amount of Valentine’s candy, and we’re going to fill them out while eating ourselves sick and watching a movie.”
“I fail to see how this implies any genuine affection,” Damian said, staring at the cartoonish figures on the box with a skeptical expression.
“Congratulations,” Stephanie said. “You’re a grown up. The way you celebrate Valentine’s Day as an adult is by suffering through it.”
“You are not yet 21,” Damian said, his skepticism flickering up to her.
“Yeah, well, I grew up too fast, too. We’re a matched pair. The point is, the genuine affection in this case is you enabling my chocolate craving while we make good use of your dad’s Netflix account.”
Stephanie guided him toward the checkout and snagged four or five bags of candy from a pink and purple shelf display along the way.
“You’re paying for the candy,” she said. “Because I have to save my money so I can afford to pay you for a sketch.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Damian grumbled. “I will, of course, draw you something for free.”
They were at the checkout when Stephanie glanced down at him and her entire heart squeezed with something like, well, affection.
“Don’t freak out,” she said, pecking him on the cheek with a tiny kiss. “You’re a good kid, Damian, even if you do try to stab me once a week.”
This time, the cashier raised an eyebrow.
Stephanie waved her hand dismissively, while the candy and Valentine’s went into a bag. “He’s my little brother or something, it’s fine. Sibling rivalry, y’know.”
She half expected Damian to dismiss this loudly, and awkwardly, in front of the cashier. Instead he took the plastic sack and said, “Another subject I am well-schooled in. Trust me, Brown, if I seriously intended to stab you, you would be stabbed.”
“That’s our cue to leave,” Stephanie said, fairly shoving him toward the sliding doors at the exit. She called over her shoulder to the cashier, “Happy Valentine’s Day!”
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webinar0 · 4 years
Link
Vidnami Review Overview
Welcome to our Vidnami review… (formally know as Content Samurai).
If you’re reading this, i’m guessing you’re looking for a way to create stunning videos fast…
After all, video is only getting bigger and bigger!
Leveraging the power of video is literally the secret to online business success.
As the old saying goes “a picture is worth a thousand words”.
Imagine a video? (which is literally “pictures moving”) 
Conveying your marketing message clearly.
Increasing your conversions.
Getting more leads and sales.
Building trust with your prospects.
Yep… that’s the power of video!
I think at this point, the word “video” is a synonym for money…
But seriously… those that aren’t using video are being left behind
And the thing is, it’s not their fault (or even your fault, if you aren’t leveraging video to its full potential).
Let’s face it, creating high quality videos is HARD!
Camera shy…
Not tech savvy…
Time sucking editing…
Ridiculously expensive complex video creation tools
The list could go on, but I think you get the idea…
So the question remains…
How do we create stunning videos fast, without dealing with all the painful obstacles above?
Well, that’s exactly why I created this review for Vidnami that you’re reading.
What is Vidnami Exactly?
To put it briefly, Vidnami is a powerful video creator that lets you create professional breath taking videos.
WITHOUT appearing on camera…
And WITHOUT any technical expertise needed!
Of course Vidnami is not an “automated tool” and still requires a little bit of work.
And by work, I mean taking an exisiting blog or script, do a couple of clicks, and BOOM…
Stunning videos on demand, without ANY editing experience needed!
Live Demo Of The Software
In fact, here’s a live example of me creating a video from scratch (live) using Vidnami.
As you can see in the video above, Vidnami does a good portion of the hard work for you…
Like turn your scripts and articles into videos, or the auto voice feature.
So you don’t have to expose your voice, or even say a single word if you don’t want too.
Vidnami (Formally Known As Content Samurai)
But before we progress any further, just to clear up some confusion, Content Samurai has rebranded to Vidnami.
They are still the same Content Samurai team, same awesome software, just a new name!
If you haven’t heard of Content Samurai before, that was Vidnami’s previous name.
A lot of people have been using Content Samurai since 2015…
So I just wanted to quickly mention that, to clear up any confusion, especially for the long term users of Content Samurai.
If you wanna try out the software, they still have the 7 day free trial.
Vidnami Pricing & Cost
So, how much does the tool cost to use?
Vidnami has 3 different options with their pricing plans.
Their first option is the 7 day free trial. I’ll leave a link to their special free trial offer.
Important: Click here to activate your 7 day free trial
The second option is how much you’ll be paying per month for the tool, which is $47 a month.
Although it’s cheaper and a lot less expensive than most other video creator tools, it can still be a bit pricey.
So what i’ll do, is share with you a 25% discount later throughout this post, to help you get it cheaper.
Lastly, we have the annual plan option for $397 a year, which ends up saving you a bit of money as well.
I’ll be honest, the last plan isn’t really for everyone (it’s more useful, if you intend on using this tool long term, and want to save money upfront).
I’m no mathematician by any means, but here are the stats.
$47 a month x 12 months (a year) = $564 a year
$564 – $397 (annual plan) = $167
Which means you save $167 each year with the annual plan, if you were to pay $47 a month for an entire year.
But don’t worry, if you would prefer a monthly discounted rate, keep reading because i’ve got you covered.
Vidnami Discount: TIPS ON HOW TO GET IT CHEAPER!
So we know what Vidnami is all about, and we know that it cost $47 a month.
So the question remains, are there some discounts or coupon codes for Vidnami?
Not coupon codes, but discounts YES!
In fact, i’ll leave the discounts below, so you can try them out.
Vidnami Instant 25% OFF Discount
The link down below will allow you to get a 25% off discount right now for Vidnami!
Important: Click here to activate your discount instantly
(Note: The link above will send you to the checkout page to get the deal)
You’ll be getting Vidnami for only $35 a month, instead of the normal $47 a month price, which means you save an extra $144 a year with that discount!
What’s also reassuring to know is that you’ll lock in that discount rate, for as long as you keep your monthly subscription to the service.
So the savings will literally compound overtime.
7 Day Free Trial Of Vidnami
Not only can you get a discount above, but if you haven’t used Vidnami yet, or want to try it out without paying first, then you can with their free trial.
Important: Click here to activate your 7 day free trial
You can use the Vidnami free trial (100% risk free) to create an unlimited number of traffic pumping videos for yourself.
And get this, after your Vidnami free trial had ended, you can keep and use the videos you’ve created inside of Vidnami without paying anything!
Of course after the 7 days, you can either choose to buy the tool and create stunning videos long term, or simply cancel your account if the tool isn’t for you.
Final Vidnami Review Verdict
Thanks for reading our review on Vidnami.
This is just the start, we’ll be updating this post with a lot more information…
Like i’m talking a LOT more content being added to this post shortly, which will really go over the software in every finite detail.
But overall, to give you a final verdict of Vidnami… It’s POWERFUL! Hands down, exceptional.
A very convenient tool for video marketers everywhere.
Here’s an example video made using Vidnami.
It allows you to create professional high quality videos, without actually being on camera yourself.
AND… without being some “tech savvy” editing master.
Ok, maybe that sounds a bit over the top, but it’s true. Of course, nothing is perfect, and neither is Vidnami.
At the same time, the tool needs to be used properly! Don’t expect to get access to the tool, and magically spawn money out of thin air.
Creating successful video marketing campaigns still requires a bit of work. But you also need good tools, to produce high quality content fast. Vidnami is simply a “tool”, it’s up to you on how you’ll use it.
If used correctly, it can produce amazing results very quickly.
But overall, I would highly recommend test driving the software, because it’s best to see the tool in action for yourself.
Important: Click here to activate your 7 day free trial
I honestly hope this post gave you some more insight regarding what Vidnami is all about, as well as help you in your video marketing efforts.
The post Vidnami Review 2020: BEWARE Before You Signup!! (Free Trial Inside!) appeared first on Imminent Business.
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