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#pink sugar heart attack

dailytuxedomask · 7 months

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Pink Sugar Tuxedo Attack

What is it?

Pink Sugar Tuxedo Attack is one of the duo attacks that exists in the Sailor Moon Universe 🌙.

This duo attack is the combination of Sailor Chibi Moon's power, Pink Sugar Heart Attack and Tuxedo Mask's power, Tuxedo La Smoking Bomber. Having only been mentioned in the manga.

Volume: short stories 2

Pink Sugar Heart and Tuxedo La Smoking Bomber

Unlike Pink Sugar Heart Attack that appears in the three versions (classic, Crystal and manga), Tuxedo la Smoking bomber only exists in the manga and Crystal.

Sailor Moon S

In the 90s anime (Season 3 episode 30) Chibi-Usa attacks Mimete and her Daimon with a similar attack but instead of being called Pink Sugar Tuxedo Attack, the name Pink Sugar heart attack was kept.( because La smoking bomber doesn't exist in this version)

Manga

In the manga the attack takes place in the story " lover of Princess Kaguya", which is a secondary story that gives inspiration to the film " sailor Moon S: hearts in ice".

During the fight Tuxedo Mask and Sailor Chibi Moon join the fight to help the other Sailor Guardians. Unlike the similar attack in Sailor Moon S, here both of them hold the rod and say the name of the attack.

Note: I didn't include information about the musicals because it's not easy to get information.

So that's it. I hope you enjoyed!!

#sailor moon #tuxedo mask #anime and manga #sailor chibi moon #small lady serenity #Mamoru chiba #chiba mamoru #Pink sugar heart attack #tuxedo la smocking bomber #pink sugar Tuxedo attack

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ramavoite · 1 year

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Pink Sugar Heart Attack!

#sailor moon #sailor moon crystal #sailor chibi moon #pink sugar heart attack #my gifs

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teacupwrites · 2 months

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Vees with a Android Reader

Valentino

Valentino had plenty of servants around, such as Kitty

So he didn’t really need another little assistant

But what he did need was a maid

And Valentino isn’t the biggest fan of actual demons that can make mistakes, so he just went out and bought a cleaning android

You were pretty small, about 4’11 and came with a little maid dress and a feather duster

When Valentino first powered you on, he expected a cute little robot who’d follow his orders and not say a word

But you weren’t normal- far from it actually

The Moth Overlord was greeted with a bubbly little maid who would follow him around like a lost puppy whenever you weren’t deep cleaning the place like a maniac

You were eccentric, though obedient and that was what he mostly cared about

Vox nearly had a heart attack when he first met you as you immediately jumped up onto him to clean some dust upon his flat face

Whenever Vox was gone, and Valentino didn’t have anyone to rant to, he would always make a mess of his quarters whilst screaming his frustrations out to you as you quickly cleaned up his trash

Slowly but surely, Valentino grew fond of you, and even would gift you in new clothes or cleaning supplies whenever he was feeling charitable

He treats you better than his other employees, but he also thinks less of you, like you are an Imp or something like that, but he still likes you

“Darling I’m pretty sure that it’s clean,” he protested, looking down at your skittering figure as you darted from place to place in an attempt to keep everything tidy.

He was elegantly perched on his couch, holding up a drink Kitty had brought over earlier, watching in amusement as you dashed around in a panic. There was a party happening, and you were eager to make sure everything looked nice

“No it isn’t!” you called back, snatching an empty glass and quickly stuffing it into the dishwasher. “Everything’s so dirty!” You crawled around with such speeds that Valentino might have mistaken you for a little bug, which was actually one of his many nicknames for you

“Whatever you say, ladybug,”

Velvette

Long story short, Velvette was running out of patience

She needed models to advertise, and all of them kept dying or were just outright ugly in the outfits she provided

After complaining to Vox for forever, he suggested that she buy a model bot

With some convincing, she actually listened, and went out and purchased one, which happened to be you

Though you were bland, so before powering you on she was quick to pazazz and doll you up

And when you did wake up, and did as your manual said, she was pleased

For once, Velvette was nice to someone, and it was a little robot who was constantly pasted onto billboards, commercials, and magazines all dressed in her products

She was chill with you, and you weren’t complaining about free makeup, perfume and clothing

The only thing was that she was very controlling, and liked to have you as her arm candy basically wherever she went

But it was nice to almost never be on the receiving end of her Cockney accent and British slang

Not many people knew your name outside of the V tower, so people online nicknamed you Dolly,

You didn’t really have a name actually, but Velvette enjoyed calling you things like: ‘Sweetheart’ “Dollface’ and ‘Sugar’

And very…very rarely, she will sometimes listen to your opinions, things you picked up on when working with her

“Ugh! All of this is trash!” Velvette snapped, stomping with a deep glare at the line up of demons who had crafted the clothing you were dressed up in.

They all winced underneath her sharp and furious gaze, recoiling away from her quippy and sassy comments as she scolded the people. Meanwhile, you glanced over at something on the pile of clothing.

“Velvette?” you called, making her whip over to glare at you, to which you shyly pointed over to a black and hot pink crop top that sat atop the pile. “What if I matched that with the skirt?”

She seemed skeptical, but with a snap of your fingers, your sleeveless turtleneck was replaced by the crop top, which magically seemed to match the boots and the fitted skirt you wore

Never before had you seen Velvette so surprised before.

“Sweetheart you’re a genius!” she chirped, her frown switching to a bright smile in a second. Velvette then darted over to you, grabbing you by the side and pulling you into a side hug. “Alright- we’re gonna go get you some upgrades today just because of how smart you are.”

Vox

Vox is a lot different from the others simply because he had built you

Originally, you were going to be an assistant type of bot he was going to sell worldwide, with secret cameras in your optics so he could spy on more of Hell

But mistakes were made, and you, the first prototype, ended up adopting a personality he grew quick to enjoy

Though he did end up selling more advanced models like yourself, he kept you, the first

Instead, you were the main hostess of the News he kept up, as Vox was usually pretty busy

The people adored you, and Vox couldn’t just rid of you

Not that he’d want to- so he kept you

He was very attached to your original model, so you were usually denied when asking for upgrades to your system

Though sometimes, he would give you little things here and there

Switchable hands, Better cameras, cleaner plates, or better wiring

But Vox always refused when you asked for a different model

You would always stay in the same body, and he wasn’t backing out of that

He has a lot of nicknames up his sleeve, and enjoys your reactions when he brings in new ones

“Dearheart, Darling, Sugar, etc”

Overall, he’s probably the best to be owned by

#hazbin hotel vees #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette hazbin hotel #velvette x reader #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino hazbin hotel #valentino x reader

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bruisedboys · 5 months

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bradley bradshaw x fem!reader — you’re worried about what bradley will think of your new haircut.

mutual pining, pre-relationship, fluff (very self indulgent since I got my hair cut this week xoxo)

You were feeling good about your new haircut yesterday, when it was freshly cut and styled and so super soft. Today is different. You know you look different and you can help but think different is bad.

You rake a hand through your short hair. “Does my hair look bad?”

Natasha and Bob both give you twin looks of incredulity. It’s not the first time you’ve asked it tonight. They’ve brought you along to the Hard Deck for a night of drinks with their friends and you can’t stop fussing over your hair. You won’t admit to them it’s because you’re harbouring a massive crush on one of their squad members and you’re worried he’ll think you look awful.

“It looks fine,” Natasha tells you, again, not for the first time. “You look pretty. Right, Bob?”

Bob hums, tapping his fingers on the wooden tabletop. “You look great, Y/N.” He gives you a look from behind his glasses. Confusion, a bit of suspicion. “Why are you worrying so much, anyway?”

Your heart stutters. “I’m not—“

“Phoenix, Bob!” Jake Seresin appears seemingly out of nowhere, sidling up to your table with all the charm of a prince. His eyes land on you and your new hair and he grins. “And Y/N. Looking good, sugar.”

He winks at you. He’s a huge flirt and you’d definitely be into him if it weren’t for another certain aviator.

You smile at him. “Thanks, Jake.”

The others, Payback and Fanboy, file in behind him. They both notice and compliment your hair, which is a good sign. Still, you know who’s coming next and you can’t help but curl in on yourself, taking a sip of your drink so you don’t have to see him as he approaches.

“Hey, guys!” Bradley Bradshaw appears, stupid Hawaiian shirt, sunglasses, moustache, golden skin and all. He’s tucking his glasses into his shirt so he doesn’t see you at first. “Hey— woah, Y/N.”

He stops short when he sees you. You lower your drink slowly, heart in your throat. Your knee bounces underneath the table.

“Hi, Bradley,” you say.

Bradley blinks. Blinks again. “Hi. Hey. I— you cut your hair.”

He says it like he’s never heard of a haircut before. You smile unsurely.

“I did,” you say, pushing a lock behind your ear as if that will help your case. “Is it bad?”

“Bad? No, it’s— it really suits you,” he says. If you’re not mistaken, he’s stuttering. Not only that, but unless you’re imagining it, he’s blushing. He stares at you, completely unaware of anything or anyone else, golden cheeks tinged pink. “You look really pretty.”

Your turn to blush. Heat flares behind your cheeks, burning into your smile. Pretty, he called you. “Thanks, Brad.”

Bradley seems to come back into himself, a lopsided grin creeping onto his face. He shoves his hands into his jeans pockets and smiles at you. “Hey, you’re welcome. Just tell me next time so I don’t have a heart attack, okay?”

What’s that supposed to mean? You open your mouth to say something, you don’t know what, but Jake’s southern drawl interrupts you.

“Bradshaw!” Both you and Bradley turn to see Jake at the pool table with the rest of the boys. “Stop flirting with Y/N and get over here so I can beat you. Again.”

Bradley rolls his eyes. “He’s lying, I won last week. I’ll be back, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

You weren’t planning to. He flashes you a dazzling smile and then you watch him go, your heart thrumming with the sort of electricity you can’t ignore. You think you might burst. He’d called you pretty, said you’d given him a heart attack. You feel like your own heart’s about to give out, too.

Across the table, Bradley now well out of earshot, Natasha wiggles her eyebrows at you.

“Oh,” she says slyly. “Now I get why you were so worried about your hair.”

You groan and bury your burning face in your drink again. “Please shut up, Nat.”

You have a feeling she won’t.

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lovebugism · 4 months

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hi bug! could i have ditsy!reader with eddie with the prompt “we can put up the christmas lights tonight!”

she’s just the clumsiest bean ever and almost falling off the ladder as she leans across to hang up the lights. and eddie is just gripping onto her waist so incredibly tightly as he doesn’t want his girl to get hurt :((

just something incredibly fluffy!!

ah this is so so cute! i hope you like it :D — you, the clumsiest girl on earth, decorate the munson trailer and make a worrier out of your otherwise carefree boyfriend (ditzy!fem!reader, established relationship, fluff, 1k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

The trailer smells entirely of the holiday season — of vanilla and cinnamon and something somehow sweeter. It’s because Eddie’s burning a batch of sugar cookies in the oven. “Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters as he sits the smoking snowflake pastries on the stove.

They’re not totally black, so that’s a plus. They may be only slightly inedible, though.

He shakes his pale hand from the oven mitt and figures he’ll have to throw them out before you get to them. He knows you’ll pretend to like them just so you don’t hurt his feelings — too sweet for your own good.

Eddie’s contemplating this when he notices how quiet the living room has gone. The television plays a muted static, but the lack of your voice is palpable. You’re rarely ever so silent. It’s like every room you’re in glows with the sound of your voice. You only get this quiet when you’re super concentrated.

His head snaps towards the living room — not totally surprised to find you hanging up Christmas lights by yourself but still a little terrified, anyway. His chocolate eyes widen in time with his heart plummeting to his chest.

“I thought we agreed to take a break?” he shouts, rounding the kitchen counter and rushing over to you.

He plants himself in front of the couch you stand on, slightly unstable on the peeling pleather cushion. His ringed fingers are warm on either side of your hips. They clutch you tight with a worry you don’t seem to have.

You string rainbow-colored lights over Wayne’s collection of mugs, leaning over the arm of the couch to fuss with the dangling bits.

Excitement and clumsiness is a dangerous concotion when it comes to you.

“We did, but these were the last things left in the box, and I couldn’t stop thinking about them,” you explain in a tiny, faraway voice — obviously distracted. Your tongue pokes gently from your lips as you try to string lights over the last mug on the left.

“Babe, c’mon,” Eddie urges, voice wavering as his hands grip you tighter.

He doesn’t know if he’s helping as much as he thought he would, or if you feel more comfortable being less careful because you know he’d never let you fall.

Either way, he breathes out a sigh of relief when you stand upright again.

“They were looking at me funny, Eds, I swear!” you say with all your usual dramatics as you turn away from the wall to face him. You’re still standing upright on the old, rickety couch, and he’s still holding tightly onto you.

Your brows are furrowed, your doe eyes wide and twinkling with innocence, and your petaled mouth softly pouted. He couldn’t be angry with you if he tried. You’re too pretty to do anything but love on.

“I believe you, baby,” Eddie assures you with a soft, pink smile. A small chuckle spills from it as he helps you to the ground again, pale palms clutching the outsides of your elbows.

He keeps holding you like that when you stand in front of him. He gives you a gentle squeeze there and rubs his thumbs over your skin. “Just let me know next time, alright? Before you give me a damn heart attack.”

“But I wasn’t even doing anything,” you insist, still pouting softly but only so he’ll wanna kiss you more.

He pulls you closer by your arms and makes you stumble into his chest. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, sweet thing,” he murmurs lowly to you and with his lips curled into a pretty, lopsided thing.

“It’s just Christmas decorations,” you shrug in a measly voice.

Eddie gives you a hardened look made entirely of melted chocolate.

You cave immediately.

“I’ll be careful,” you promise.

His big, stupid grin returns to him. “Good,” he hums, right before bending softly down and smacking a kiss to your waiting mouth.

It’s a fleeting peck — a slotting of your lips and a leaving. You can taste the sugary icing on him, anyway. It leaves you buzzing for more when he pulls away.

“I’m gonna put some more cookies in the oven, ‘kay? Give me ten minutes, and we’ll finish decorating, alright? Together.”

He walks backward towards the kitchen. You beam in response. “I’ll go get the ladder so we can do the rest of the lights!” you offer, voice coated with excitement and sunshine.

“Absolutely not!” Eddie exclaims with a chuckle. Your smile ebbs instantly. “Wayne's ladder is older than I am, babe— you’ll definitely break your neck on that thing!”

You roll your sparkling eyes at him. “You’re being dramatic,” you say with a smile and shake of your head.

“I’m serious, babe,” he tells you, gentle but still stern. He tilts his chin to his chest and gives you a deep brown and serious glare. “Don’t make me fight you over this,” he cautions, still playful in his way.

Your cheek falls to your shoulder. You shoot him a teasing smile and cross your arms over your chest. “I’d still win,” you insist in a pretty little voice.

Eddie scoffs and walks the short distance back to you. “Obviously. But with the power of distraction, I’d keep you from climbing your pretty ass on that ladder, so… Who’s the real winner?”

“Still me,” you joke, smiling when he plants another kiss to your mouth.

“How about you come in the kitchen with me then, huh?” he suggests, if only to soothe his anxious heart. “You can sit on the counter and look pretty while I destroy another batch of cookies. I won’t even feel bad if you make fun of me for burning them.”

Your lips purse softly to the side as you think on his offer.

“I’ll give you a kiss for it,” Eddie blurts in attempts to persuade you.

He blinks, and your arms are wrapped around his neck — an embrace most pleasantly suffocating. He laughs softly, with his nose smushed against yours, and wraps his arms around your waist. He lets you kiss him like your life depends on it a second later.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: blurbcember

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thewritersaddictions · 2 months

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Drabble: (COD) Simon Riley: Permanent Kisses

Simon loves getting tattoos. It's a way to bear even more pain in his life, but you aren't painful. You're sweet and everything that Simon isn't. Everything that he can't be while he is away as Ghost.

Your bright smile has his insides churning whenever he sees you. Your soft and gentle touches are the exact opposite of what he's used to, but he loves it regardless.

When he's with you, he isn't a ghost or the hard exterior shell he has learned to be to survive. Simon is just himself, still a little rough around the edges but loving and endearing. It's shocking to Simon the first time the two of you are out and about, just as you and Simon are normal citizens. You aren't afraid to hold his hand, kiss his cheek, or even grab onto his large forearm and bicep to keep him close to you.

He forgets that to you; he is your protector. You see him as your everything. But that deep, rutted feeling is mutual. He feels it in the bottom of his stomach, and his heart seems to bump just a little bit faster whenever you press yourself closer to his side. Aching for his comfort and protection.

So it's not a surprise to him when one night, when the two of you are sitting on his couch with the lights off and the tv playing some random shitty tv show that your lips land on his neck. He's not in favor of showing off his skin; he still wears his mask out in public and opts for the long sleeve workout shirts and long everything else.

Yet you've got him in a short-sleeved shirt slightly lower on his neckline. Not suffocating him as much, and your legs are perched on each side of his large thighs. Your hands carding through the short blonde hair, and your lips pressing soft kisses into the skin.

Your red lip marks are pressed a dozen times into the tanned skin. Simons hum with every kiss you press into the skin, and he rubs sweet circles into your back, never urging you further than you want to go.

"What are you doing, sugar?" Simons asks when you lean back to admire your work. "Looking at my masterpiece." It makes Simon chuckle, and you shake in his lap. "What?" You say, "Nothing, sugar." He says, pressing a kiss to your still-red lips.

It's a day later, actually on Valentine's Day. You hadn't discussed Valentine's Day as a holiday you two would celebrate, but you still got him a present. Except Simons comes home with the sweetest and hottest gift you've ever received.

"Here's your gift, Si." You say you push the card and a new magazine subscription to some gun club. He smiles and opens the card. Your handwriting is perfect; cursive letters pop out in pink shades. 'To the sweetest guy I know. I love you today, tomorrow, and forever after that.' Simon looks up from the card with glossy eyes, and he brings you in for a warm hug with a tiny kiss and lands at your temple.

"Do you wanna see what I got you?" Simons asks as he pulls away from you. Simon sounds more excited now as he sheds himself off his winter jacket. "Close your eyes." He says softly, and then he brings his hand to meet yours. Dragging your hand up his chest and to where his shoulder and neck meet. You feel a little film and then simon tells you to open yours eyes.

When you do its a red tattoo that you are met with. The perfect impression of your lips on his skin. "What?" You sound like you're on the verge of crying. "I got it a few days ago, after you had a kiss attack on my neck." "Hmm" You hum and run a finger over the fragile skin.

"A permanent kiss from my permanent love." He says, kissing your hand gently, and you just stare at his new tattoo, a show of complete and utter love.

#fluff #fem reader #female reader #requests are open #open requests #requests open #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon my beloved

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nikoruistyping · 1 year

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Better Hold Your Breathe || Spencer Reid

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: You had hoped to have a nice normal morning but its nothing but normal at the BAU and next thing you know you end up locked in the Evidence Room with none other than Spencer Reid, your coworker and crush. As time passes Spencer starts to have a panic attack and there was only one thing you could think of to help stop it...

TW: Fluff, Coworkers to Lovers Relationship, Kissing, Playful Banter, Jealous Spencer, Derek calling you Babygirl as a joke, Depictions of a Panic Attack due to Claustrophobia

Word Count: 2.5K?

A/N: This fic is my annual bday present for my best friend so happy bday my queen and I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I did making it for you. I hope your MGG thirst is quenched with this one even though its not really a smutty piece since I ended up changing my plot/idea last minute because I wasnt happy with my writing at all and I’m rusty so I’m sorry if its not as good as my other pieces. THIS IS ALSO MY FIRST CRIMINAL MINDS/SPENCER FIC SO SORRY IF HE SOUNDS A BIT OUT OF CHARACTER I TRIED YALL. BEFORE ANY ONE COMMENTS AND COMES FOR ME YES THIS WAS INSPIRED BY THE STILES & LYDIA KISS FROM TEEN WOLF 3x11 SO SHUT UP I KNOW!

Coffee holder in hand you used your hip to push the glass double doors to the BAU open. You had purposely gone to the coffee shop early that morning so that you could order not only yourself a cup but to also get one for Spencer, who also happened to be the one guy in the BAU that you had the biggest crush on ever since the first day you joined. By some miracle you had remembered his order by heart and it was stupid that you were remembering such little things about him but that's what you do when you really like someone that much right? You tried to convince yourself that watching him make his coffee step by step every morning in the kitchen wasn't creepy at all but next thing you knew you were taking notes about what milk he used and how many sugars he would put inside his cup.

You shook your head at the silly thought and happily you walked over to your desk with the biggest smile on your face ready to take on the rest of the day. Penelope took notice from across the room as she walked in at the same time as you and she lightly nudged your shoulder.

"Well someone looks extra chipper this morning." She commented pushing up her pink colored glasses.

"Aren't I always happy every time I walk into work?" You question raising your eyebrow at her.

"Usually you are but I'm guessing that it has to do with the fact that you bought two coffees...I'm pretty sure that's not all for you." She says with a sly smirk on her lips since she is clearly the best hacker in the BAU there is, but your crush on Spencer was blatantly obvious that she didn't need to hack into brain to know that information.

"Bold of you to assume that Penelope." You say trying to look away but you weren't always the best at hiding your feelings.

"Oh come on, you know I'm right and I'm pretty sure that coffee is for a special someone that we all know you have the biggest crush on." She says with a small roll of her eyes at how it was pointless for you to deny it at this point.

"Fine! Fine...I did get him a coffee but it's just a coffee and that's it, nothing more I promise." You say as you lie to not only yourself but to Penelope who wasn't believing a word that you were saying at all but she just gave you a look of disbelief as she saw Derek across the room and waved hello to him.

"Whatever you say Y/N. Just promise me that eventually you will make a move or else I'll do it for you." She said with a nudge to your shoulder again which just made you chuckle at her declaration.

"I pinky promise, you happy now Penelope?" You say a bit reluctantly.

"Much better. I'll see you in ten minutes in the meeting room, Hotch gave us a new case so I have to prepare." She says as she parts ways with you and heads to her office as you make your way to your desk which of course happened to be right across from Spencer's and it was extremely hard to focus all day looking at his pretty face twenty four seven.

You were surprised to see another coffee cup on your desk with a little sticky note attached to the lid and it instantly made you smile. The closer you got you set down the holder and looked across to Spencer’s desk but he was nowhere in sight. You carefully took the sticky note off the lid and started to read it to yourself.

Y/N,

Hope I got the order right and enjoy.

- Spencer Reid aka Your Favorite Desk Neighbor

His little note made you smile from ear to ear and you could help but pick up the cup and take a small sip. To your surprise he really did get your order right, you hadn't expected him to be so observant but then again he would have a job if that was the case right?

As you look up you see Spencer walking in your direction and when your eyes met his you tried your best to keep your composure and waved to him, his footsteps getting closer until he seemed to park himself right in front of your desk.

"Morning Spence. I-Um...thanks for the coffee that's really thoughtful of you." You admit taking another sip as you glanced over his beautiful facial features.

"Morning Y/N," His reply a controlled stutter, barely keeping it together while you inched closer to where he was leaning against the desk.

He accepted the pipping hot cup you bought him with a whispered thank you. You were excited to see his reaction and you had your fingers crossed that you remembered every detail of his order.

"Did I get it right?" You asked with an eager attitude and smile on your face while you tried to hide behind your coffee cup.

"Surprisingly enough you-" His words were interrupted by Derek coming up from behind and shaking his shoulders playfully.

"Good Morning you two," He said greeting us as he looked at all the coffee cups on your desk and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Looks like you two decided to throw a coffee party and not invite anyone. I'm taking this as compensation." He says with a laugh and grabbing the cup of coffee you had bought for yourself.

"I-I'll allow that but you owe me next time Derek." You say taking a sip and gritting your teeth a bit in anger but not letting it get the best of you.

"Fine I'll get you one next time babygirl," He said with a smirk and a little playful wink which made you flustered for a quick moment since it was out of character for him to ever call you that, that was always his thing with Penelope. You glanced at Spencer and his gaze seemed frustrated and angry, his knuckles almost turning white as he gripped the coffee cup harder. You couldn't quite read what was on his mind since he never was the best at showing or expressing his emotions. It was clear he was upset maybe jealous even.

"Oh come on now, I'm just playing no need to get all flustered. I'll see you both in the meeting room in ten." He said patting Spencer on the shoulder seeing as he made no comments at all about the interaction.

Before you could try and bounce back from the awkwardness Derek had instilled into your conversation with Spencer this morning felt like it couldn't get any worse until you got a call on your desk phone and you picked up.

"Hey Y/N, I need you to go into the evidence room and bring me a few boxes of evidence. Looks like its so old and outdated that its not in the computer system yet," Penelope explained over the phone.

"Penelope really?! Is it that urgent that it needs to be right now?" You question in a bit of an annoyed tone in your voice being as nothing seemed to be going as planned this morning.

"Yes Y/N it is! Pretty pretty please I won't ask you for any other favors for the whole day I promise," She pleaded and well you couldn't say no to your best friend in the whole department.

"Fine I'll go. Just text me the record box numbers and I'll go get them." You said letting out a breath as you nervously played with phone cord.

"Make sure to bring Spencer or Derek with you. The boxes are pretty heavy and good luck!" She hung up quickly before you could even say another word in protest but you accepted that this was basically defeat at this point.

You put the phone down hanging up and you give Spencer a look that makes him immediately curious. After with whatever just happened with Derek there was no way you were bringing him as a helping hand. You hated to admit it but the evidence room was extremely dark and scary looking to go into by yourself so it put you at ease that maybe Spencer would tag along.

"So...Spencer I need your help to go get some boxes from the evidence room. Are you in?" You ask taking one last sip of the delicious coffee and putting it down.

"Yeah, yeah of course I'll help." He quickly responds without hesitation as he followed your lead around the office and towards the direction of the room.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence between the two of you, he finally broke it the moment you reached your destination.

"I didn't know you and Derek had a 'thing' going on. I just always assumed him and Penelope were more into each other because of that ridiculous petname he calls her which honestly I think is a violation against having a healthy and safe work place environment-" He was fumbling his words as he rambled on about how he just couldn't imagine you and Derek being together.

"If it makes you feel any better Derek and I aren't a 'thing'. We never were. I don't know why he called me babygirl...it felt wrong but I know he was just probably joking with me to get on my nerves or something." You admit as you turn the rusty old doorknob after fussing with the keylock and open the door slowly.

"Wait...really so you aren't into him?" He questions while following your lead into the very lowly lit room that was filled with hundreds of boxes on dusty shelves.

"Make sure to hold the door open or else it will-" You spoke a bit too late because before you knew it you heard the door close and lock behind the both of you.

"-lock us in." You finish your sentence and Spencer looks behind him seeing as the door had really locked you two in there for who knows how long now.

"You should have warned me beforehand."

"How was I suppose to warn you beforehand if you had me distracted with something else?!"

"Jesus now we are stuck in here and Y/N you know how much I hate small dark enclosed spaces! This is literally my worst nightmare right now!" He exclaimed as his breathing seemed to get faster and he put his hand to his chest that was heaving up and down quickly. Spencer was having a panic attack and you weren't sure what to do.

"Hold on Spence, let me just call Penelope I'm sure she can help us." You say quickly fumbling with your phone, trying to put on the flashlight and finding her contact to call her as soon as possible.

"PENELOPE!" You scream into the phone in a panic.

"AH! Y/N why are you screaming into my headpiece right now?!"

"Spencer and I are stuck in the evidence room and he is having a panic attack right now so what do I do?! Can you get us out of here please!" You begged.

"Oh god…ok so this wasn't how this was suppose to go!" She replies back quickly.

"Penelope what are you talking about?! Did you plan this?"

"Well I wasn't planning on the door locking but I wanted to give you the right moment to make your move on Spencer but not like this!"

"Penelope I'm going to seriously unfriend you after this."

"I'm sorry! I'm gonna try and fix this right now just give me a few minutes, I will call you back right away."

"Is everything ok?" Spencer asks in-between quick and heavy breaths now that he has resorted to sitting on the floor while he tries to control his breathing but sadly all the dust and darkness isn't really helping at all and he seemed to be clutching his chest.

"We will get out of here soon, don't worry about that right now, just focus on me Spence." You say sitting in front of him and trying to do something but you didn't know what to do that could help in this situation.

His breathing only got quicker the more he seemed to panic and at that point you got an idea but maybe it was worth the risk of whatever would come afterwards but you decided to just do it anyways.

"Hey! Spencer look at me...just look at me..." Your voice trailed off as you seemed to lean in closer to him, your hands cupping his face, being pricked by his stubble as you made eye contact with him despite the lighting situation.

Without even having to think twice you quickly closed the gap between the both of you and your lips met his. At first he was completely stunned you could tell by his reaction since his teeth seemed to clash with yours but as you both eased into it a wave of relief hit his body and he was completely relaxed. You didn't let go of him only bringing him as close as humanly possible while your lips moved gently against his. Before the both of you almost ran out of breathe you slowly pulled away, his forehead leaning against yours as you were surprised with yourself that you even did something like that to begin with.

Spencer's eyes seemed to be darting everywhere looking at you but then looking all over your entire face, still in shock that you flat out kissed him.

"How...How did you do that?" He whispered out into the small space between you both.

"I-Uh...I read once that holding your breathe can stop a panic attack," You paused for a small moment almost getting lost in his brown eyes as you tried to focus on trying to shamelessly explain yourself.

"So when I kissed you...you held your breathe."

"I-I did?" He asked almost in disbelief that he even had the chance to kiss you.

"Yeah...you did."

"Thanks...you know that's really smart..." His voice trailed off almost echoing but you could help but blush and feeling absolutely flustered by the whole situation.

"Well I just-I read it somewhere and I felt a bit helpless not being able to help you so I thought this must be the only way." You twiddled your thumbs in your lap looking down as you bit your lip, it still tasting of coffee except it seemed more bitter tasting.

"Must be the only way, hmm," He hummed a bit in disbelief at your explanation but he reached his hand out to hold yours and gently squeezed.

"Do you believe now that I definitely don't have a 'thing' with Derek?" You question squeezing his hand right back as you couldn't help but smile at him despite not being able to see him too well in the darkness.

"I don't know I might need you to verify one more time just to make sure." He says with a chuckle coming off his lips.

"Wow you're much cheekier than I thought Spence." You say giggling a bit to yourself.

"You know when we finally get out of here do you maybe want to go to dinner with me sometime? I mean only if you want to-" He was still nervous and somehow stuttered out his sentence but you just pulled him in for a hug and kissed his cheek in the process.

"Yes, I would love that Spence." You say with a smile on your face as you squeeze him tightly in your arms.

Eventually Penelope came to the rescue with a giant crowbar in hand as she pried the door open, breaking the lock in the process. You had never seen Spencer happier to go into the meeting room and go straight to work in his entire life. Now that you both were finally out of the evidence room the next hurdle to jump over was to finally go on your first date with him knowing that it was confirmed that you two both had feelings for each other and it was a plus that he was a really good kisser too.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #fluff #criminalmindsmaster

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kimsohn · 1 year

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jay (enha) + giving the other a spoonful of the meal they’re cooking to test it out, holding their hand under their chin so nothing falls.

sweet . jay x gn!reader about . 646 words, fluff warnings . kissing (?), lots of food mentions

a sharp clatter behind the living room startles you, and you turn around to see jay scratching his head, his cheeks pink with embarrassment.

"sorry love, i accidentally dropped the pot... again."

you know very well that he's especially stressed today, but it's not because he's your boyfriend and you know him so well, but rather you've heard one too many of his mishaps prior. the two of you were getting ready for a party to celebrate his successful comeback, and while you had conquered the decoration aspect (see: the colorful arrangement of balloons and banners hanging in the living room), jay was not so triumphant in attacking the cooking portion.

your boyfriend is an amazing chef, and the two of you know that. more than often it's hard to plan outside dates with your hectic schedules, so you usually find yourselves sandwiched together and munching on one of jay's delicacies in substitute of a restaurant dinner. the only reason he's having trouble today is because he decided to stray from the comfort of his specialty and tackle something new: desserts. specifically, tiramisu.

however, jay actually seems to be doing pretty well because the smell coming from the kitchen is delectable. his only issue is his nervousness, hence the racket in the kitchen every five minutes.

"are you sure you don't need help?" you ask, knowing very well he's doing just fine on his own and the only real assistance you could give him is a hug.

"actually, c'mere. you can taste this mascarpone filling and see if it's sweet enough."

with quick strides, you make your way over to jay's side, hoping that he can't see the eagerness in your eyes. you've always loved his food, even when he thought he added a little too much salt or burned it, and you know that his filling will be close to perfection.

he tilts your chin up slightly, scooping a spoon of the filling and bringing it to your lips. your heart warms at the gesture, your jay that is always so caring, and as you mouth the mixture he wipes the slight remnants of it that have lingered to the side of your mouth.

but you don't even have a chance to thank him, because the creamy delight that fills your mouth clouds all your senses. it's ridiculous how he even doubted himself, and you're five seconds away from telling him that professional chefs should be glad he chose the idol life. the concoction is as perfect as it can be, and the cook who made it is even more perfect, so much so that you don't even try to hide the smile that crosses your face.

"it's sweet enough. it's actually perfect, and i'm sure i would eat this alone if you gave me a bowl."

"really? are you sure? you know my members have at least one sweet tooth..."

"here, you want to try?"

you don't even give him a chance to respond before pulling down on his collar and engulfing him in a kiss, making sure he can taste the filling on your lips as if it was chapstick. when you pull away, he's bewildered and flustered, and you both have matching blushes scattering across your faces at your boldness.

"you were right, it was pretty sweet," jay says, "but i can't tell if that's because of the sugar or your lips."

it's safe to say the filling is long forgotten when he leans in for another kiss, but at least the other members are content with jay's finished product when they stroll in an hour later as you both try to hide your swollen lips and mussed-up hair.

"what's your secret ingredient to making your food taste good?" jake asks, trying to sneak another bite of the dessert.

jay smiles at you knowingly, your shared secret drifting through the air.

"love."

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peachesofteal · 1 year

Text

Cupcakes

Maybe this will be a thing. Or maybe not. Either way, I've got the Pedro brain rot.

Joel Miller/female reader One shot - 1.1k words - AO3 Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, mentions of blood, violence, gore. Joel is bad at feelings. Descriptions of explicit sex. Joel doesn't understand you.

He doesn’t understand you. You smile. With your mouth, your pink lips curling above a deep scar on your chin.

“It’s my trophy.” You told him one night. “I got it from a crazy fucker who had a barn fulla clickers.” He’s not sure why any person would be penning up a bunch of those things, but you did say he was crazy. “Killed him though. Was one of my first ones.” He watches your face go dark with the memory, and he tries to imagine what you were like before all this. Soft, sweet. Probably someone’s wife. Maybe you stayed at home. Made dinner, made breakfast. Maybe you were the type that made cupcakes, real ones from scratch, with sweet spun sugar icing. Maybe you took care of someone.

He doesn’t understand the way you think. You’re always telling him to take it slow, take it easy, take his time. He can’t. He doesn’t know how. He has to move fast, quick, easy on his feet. He cannot slow down. You have no problem making pace, but it doesn’t keep you from voicing your opinion.

“You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack. Don’t the doctors usually start old men on baby aspirin at your age?” He’s not that old, for christ’s sake. He’s not even forty-five yet, he thinks. When you laugh at your own jab, it feels like he’s been punched in the stomach.

He doesn’t understand the way you fight. You creep around like a god damn cat, brandishing a knife in your hand, another two slipped in your boots. You liked surprise, and you hated guns. The first time he had watched you put a blade in someone’s clavicle, he thought he was going to be sick. He didn’t like you having to get so close, no matter how many times you tried to assure him you were fine. And he hates how his head spins when he watches you put that same knife in the side of a clicker’s head, twisting it for good measure, before you’re shoving off of them and bashing their skull in.

“Can’t aim worth a shit.” You complained the day he took you out for practice. You couldn’t hit a single bottle, and he couldn’t fight the grimace that graced his face. When you saw it, your cheeks turned a different color, and guilt burned inside him.

He doesn’t understand why you’re so fucking stubborn. Why you don’t listen when he tells you to do something, when you blatantly ignore him when he tells you not to follow the crying little kid that’s begging for help.

“It’s not like it was life or death.” He turned on you so fast he watched your eyes go wide, his arms pulling your shoulders towards his chest. “It is life or death!” He had yelled. You had run into that building without a care after that kid, and he could hardly keep up. Turns out, the kid’s mom was already infected, and he didn’t understand. He was only five. You covered his eyes while Joel put her down. You had carried him all the way back to camp, even after Joel had offered to take him, arms wrapped tight around his back as he cried. So stubborn. But you let Joel hold you that night, for the first time. In the dark, your hand running up and down his spine, your whispered words repeating over and over. “I’m fine. I’m fine, Joel.”

He doesn’t understand your feelings. The way they shift from one day to the next. He doesn’t like how it feels when he catches you crying, drop of tears webbed in your pillowy lashes.

“What is it?” the words are gruff, and he wishes he was softer for a split second. You sniffle and shake your head. “It’s my dad’s birthday. Or would’ve been.” He gets it, he does. But he doesn’t know how to show you, so he just sits down on the step, his shoulder against yours. You wrap your hand around his knee after you’ve dried your tears, and he holds his breath while you turn your tear-stained face up towards him. “Thanks, Joel.” His name on your lips makes his blood sing.

He doesn’t understand the way you talk to people either. The way you make everyone feel like they’re some ray of sunshine in your life. Like they matter to you. You give everyone your smile, and your eyes, and your touch. You rub Rita on her back when she throws up every second week of the month, like clockwork. You braid the Marshall girl’s hair when her mom isn’t around to do it. You try to arm wrestle John when you both get a free moment, and he can hear your laugh clear across the yard when he lets you win.

“He gets a kick out of it.” You tell him one night. “Makes him feel good. Shitty world we live in, you know?”

He knows.

He wants to make you feel good.

He hasn’t had a woman under him in years. He’s all rough sandpaper, and he can’t imagine that scraping against your porcelain skin. But, that doesn’t stop him from thinking about it. He dreams about bending you back on one of those shitty mattresses, your skin rippling in goosebumps under the tips of his fingers. He imagines the way your mouth tastes, how your hand would feel wrapped around his cock. He thinks about how you’d sound, with his mouth on your cunt, his tongue licking up inside you, pulling an orgasm through your gritted teeth. He’d hold your hip in one hand and fuck his fingers into you with the other, feeling the way the walls of your cunt clenched down around him. He thinks about how he’d push your hips down onto his cock, your back arched in his arms, your mouth pressing into his shoulder as you moan. “Joel.” you’d whine, tongue darting out to lick your lips, hand gripping his forearm. “Fuck, Joel. Please.” He’d bite the skin of your neck, bringing it between his teeth, pulling the blood to the surface to brand you. You’d be his.

These things he wants, they’re just a fantasy. A gentle dream, like the memory of the world before. He knows that, he does. But it doesn’t stop him from wanting. From watching you when you’re on guard, hips swaying with every step you take. Doesn’t stop him from taking himself in his hand when he thinks about the curve of your waist, the prominent dips in your hips, the soft crease where your thigh bends when you sit, legs folded against each other. He wants to pin you beneath him until you’re shaking, wants to hold you to his chest while you sleep. He wants the sweet, soft spun sugar that melts in his mouth, the feeling of you in his arms. He wants the cupcakes, the real ones.

He wants it all. But it’s only a fantasy.

#joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #Joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou hbo #joel tlou #joel miller x oc #peaches writes #female reader #tlou fanfiction #Joel Miller

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wildechildwrites · 2 months

Text

Sweet Wine and Rain Checks

Pink Mugs and Painful Expressions Part Two

John Price/Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Smut and the softest Captain Price

No use of Y/N

Summary: You invite John over for dinner and he wants to return the favor

Can be read as a stand alone :)

A/N: I swear this was going to be a slow burn but we all deserve to have Johnathan Price hopelessly head over heels romcom love at first sight in love with us honestly.

AO3 Link: Sweet Wine and Rain Checks

You had invited Price over for dinner, and he was raised better than to arrive empty handed. He came bearing flowers and a bottle of sweet wine, and the smile you graced him with when you opened the door could've put a perfect summer day to shame with the way it warmed him, inside and out. You wrap your arms around his neck, and he returns the hug as best he can with his hands full.

"Thanks for coming over," you say. You're nervous, verging on giddy, your flat much neater than he'd seen it last. Something delicious smelling is simmering on the stove, and there are candles on the kitchen table.

John sits while you whirl around him, a tornado of productivity, haphazardly plating food and spilling sauce. He thinks you’re lovely like this, nose scrunched and brow furrowed in concentration, like the salad you’re tossing is a bomb you’re trying to disarm. When you finally sit down, he pours you a glass of wine, and you laugh, settling into yourself.

“I’m always paranoid that I'm going to burn something or use sugar instead of salt when I cook for others,” you say. John quirks an eyebrow, putting a forkful of food in his mouth with an exaggerated amount of cautiousness as you giggle, rolling your eyes at him. The food is delicious, and John proves it by eating two servings.

He starts the dishes without you asking, dodging your attempts to fuss him out of the kitchen. A dishrag thrown over his shoulder, sleeves rolled up showing off sturdy forearms, two hands on his hips as he tells— orders you, really, to get out of the kitchen. You refuse, lingering just out of reach. Warm light bathes you both in a sunset glow. You tell him about your day and ask about his, and when the dishes are done and dry, order restored to your kitchen, you lead him to the couch.

You put on a movie, something John's seen before but can't quite remember, an old classic that reveals your nostalgic side. He wraps a strong arm around you, an action more confident than he feels. He wonders if you can feel his heartbeat pick up when you lean in, warm head against his chest. You smell wonderful, soft and warm.

Halfway through the movie you’re dozing off, head nodding as you curl deeper into his side. John reaches for the remote and turns the movie down, gently pulling you into his lap so he can lay down with you. Your weight on his chest is comforting, and soon he feels himself following you into unconsciousness.

It’s dark and his back hurts. You’ve shifted, your legs wrapped around his, your head on his chest, and John makes a mental note to never tell you that you drool. He sits up, trying not to jostle you, but you open up your eyes, looking up at him sleepily.

“What time s’it?” you murmur. John checks his watch.

“Just past two, love.” He lifts you off his lap, watching you yawn. “I’m goin’ home, you get yourself to bed.”

He stands, and you let him help you to your feet.

“Do you wanna see me again?” You ask, your voice scratchy from sleep. Your eyes are droopy, staring up at him, fingers still intertwined with his own. John wonders if it’s possible for his chest to get any tighter, and briefly considers the possibility that he’s having a heart attack.

He swallows the feeling, instead smiling at you softly. “How about I host next week? I can’t promise I cook as well as you do, but I’ll keep it close to edible.”

You smile back then reach up, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him down for a kiss. Your lips are soft, your mouth warm, and John places a gentle hand on your face, thumb tracing along your jawline. The night is warm, but the dark street is a painfully lonely contrast to the bright interior of your flat. John keeps an eye on your window until he watches the warm yellow light flicker off.

The night before you're coming over, he gets the call, a mission that needs to be handled by his team immediately. He’s told to report early the next day. It’s late, nearing two in the morning, but his bags are packed and he's got an itch under his skin to see you. John loads up his car and heads to your flat. He can imagine you kicking him out, sending him away, put off by his bizarre behavior and the late hour, but he follows the impulse, letting muscle memory pull him back into your orbit. He knocks firmly on your door, hiding his nerves.

You open the door, your eyes hazy, your hair messy, and John wishes he could take this moment and frame it. Instead he captures it in his fluttering heart, locks it away.

"I know it's late," he says quickly, "but I've just been called out for a mission and I wanted to— I had to say goodbye. I'm not sure when I'll be back."

You say nothing, still half asleep, just yawn and open your arms invitingly. He sweeps you into a tight hug, nuzzling his cheek against your hair. John lifts you off the ground and spins you around, shutting the door.

You let out a happy noise, high in your throat, and mumble against his chest. “You should leave more often if I get hugs like these.”

He laughs, and you giggle with him as he pulls you in tighter, crushing you against him. He wants you to feel his heartbeat, wants to feel yours, to know that you’re real, that there’s blood and bones and you’re not just some lovely dream.

John pulls back and kisses you, harder than the times before, wanting to taste you, to have something to hold onto when he's alone, breathes deep so he can remember the way you smell. You’re minty from your toothpaste, clean from your shower, and he thinks how desperately he wants to be here forever, in your beautiful flat, flowers he bought you sitting on the kitchen table, two sets of dishes in the sink.

You pull back from him, your cheeks flushed and your lips swollen. “Come to bed, John,” you say shyly, and Price is certain that he’s dreaming, that he’ll wake up alone in his cold flat, but your soft hand in his own keeps him tethered, an anchor in his stormy sea.

You pull him down with you, tossing his hat away haphazardly, your arms snaking around his neck. He’s desperately trying not to crush you under his weight, trying to hide the lightning bolt of want he feels, hovering over you. You're beautiful like this, too tired to be self conscious, staring up at him like you need him just as bad as he needs you.

“You’re a vision,” he murmurs, just to watch you blush. He kisses along your jaw, nipping at your neck, and you gasp, pulling him closer to you. He feels like he’s going crazy. He wants to touch you everywhere, lets his hands wander, trying to maintain a level head, resisting the urge to pin you down and consume you entirely. He pulls off your shirt, humming lowly when you let him, when you lift your hips so he can pull off your sweatpants. He kisses down your chest, pausing to suck at the soft skin of your breasts before continuing lower. He nips at your hip, using a large hand to hold you down as he sucks a bruise into the stretch of skin next to your hip bones. You squirm and whimper at the sensation. He wants to taste you, wants to feel you cum on his face, so he pulls your legs apart, scraping your sensitive thighs with his facial hair, placing gentle kisses along your legs. He pulls your panties off and you’re suddenly shy again, legs closing slightly.

“You alright, darling?” he asks, and you nod, looking down at him with wide eyes. John moves his hands to your thighs, spreading you open. He eats you out like it’s something he needs, sloppy and slow, wanting to be able to remember the taste of you. Your hands are in his hair, egging him on, and you moan when he slips one thick finger into you, finding a tempo that makes your thighs shake. He pulls you over the edge, keeps licking until you're squirming away from him, weak hands attempting to push his shoulders back as you stutter out a soft "w-wait w-wait."

His beard is soaked when he pulls himself up, kissing you and laughing when you scrunch your nose at the moisture. He reaches down to quickly undo his belt, and you lean up to pepper soft kisses across his nose and cheeks as he awkwardly shoves his pants down and off.

You both let out a breath when the head of his cock bumps against your clit, and he thrusts his hips lightly, dragging himself across your wetness. When he catches against your entrance, he leans down and kisses you passionately. John watches your face as he slowly slides into you, watching you wince at the stretch when he's fully inside you. He gives you a moment to adjust, kissing you softly, tongue moving against yours. He feels you start to squirm, searching for friction, and he thrusts into you.

"Oh sweet girl," he groans, dropping his head into your shoulder. He's fucking you open, soft and slow, noises slipping out of him with ever thrust. John places soft kisses on your shoulders, nipping at your collarbones, making you gasp. You've got your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close, and for a moment there's nothing but you two, nothing but warm skin against warm skin and the sweet things he whispers, the feeling of you clenching around his cock. John feels himself coming undone and speeds up, making you moan as his hips slam against yours. For just a few moments, he fucks you like he wants to break you, and you feel yourself being pulled over the edge again when he reaches a hand down to rub your clit without losing his punishing rhythm. He calls out your name and you feel his hips stutter, his dick twitching as he cums.

John gets up and gets a towel, cleans you both up. You reach for him, pulling him back into bed and letting him wrap his arms around you. You're still sticky but seem unbothered, exuding contentment as you nuzzle into his chest. He pulls you close, his eyes on the clock near your bed.

When the time comes, John gently shifts you, untangling himself and stepping off the bed quietly. He watches your face as he gets dressed. You look so peaceful, hair a mess and blankets tucked tight around you. Your eyelids flutter softly, and he gently reaches out, placing a hand on your cheek. You nuzzle into him unconsciously, and he feels the iceberg in his chest crack and shift. He picks up his hat from the floor, and quietly lets himself out of your apartment.

#I know he canonically commits war crimes on the reg but doesn't mean you can't be an old fashioned romantic who gives killer head #cod mw2 #cod x reader #captain john price #john price cod #john price x reader #reader insert #really got y'all with that one two posting punch hm konig and john all in one day???

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boo8008 · 8 months

Text

Three Months - Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Fem!Reader

Prologue | Chapter 01: Quadriller | Chapter 02: Mince

Notes: Its been one year since The Bear's soft open, and with everything running smoothly, Carmen's lost in his thoughts, until the final table of the night is seated.

Notes: This is my first time really writing so let me know what you think, I'm probably gonna do more just for me. If there's something I should add/remove from the tags please let me know. I hope you enjoy :)

A year after their soft open, The Bear is like a well oiled machine, working perfectly as Richie calls out the orders and their corresponding tables. Carmen’s on auto pilot as he works, doing his best to not think about where he was this time last year: breaking down in the walk-in and subsequently breaking up with Claire. If you can even call it a break up, he still isn't sure if they were actually dating.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as Fak enters again announcing the final table of the night was just seated. Almost from memory Richie calls out your name and party of one, doing more than trowing Carm from his thoughts; practically gut-punching him through the thick metal wall of the walk-in with memories of New York, not the asshole of an executive chef he worked for but of the calm and blissful three months he had from December to February with you.

Before his life got uprooted.

Before The Beef.

Before Mikey…

He’s brought back as Richie yells at him before he looks up at him, looking at his face.

“Cousin, you good?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don't look fine, chef.”

“I’m fine.” Carmen insists again.

Richie rolls his eyes as he returns to calling out orders for a moment.

“You look like your gonna throw up,” Sydney mutters.

“I’m fucking fine, Jesus fuck,” Carmen snaps. Stoping his task as he looks up to Sydney then Richie, whose still scribbling something down.

“Take five chef.” Richie says, still not looking up.

“Richie, I said-”

“It wasn't a request Carm.” Richie finally looks up at him, ever sense that test night a year ago, and when Richie started wearing suits, hes been more final in his input. Telling and suggesting and researching rather than just complaining. Fuck he even learned to do more prep properly to help out on the busier nights. Why Richie even stayed after that night he isn’t sure, the shit he said was fucked. He wouldn't have blamed him, Syd, or anyone else for walking out on him if they did.

“Syd take over for Carm, Tina for Syd, and Alex for Tina; Carm needs a sec.” If the uniformed call of “Yes Chef” from the kitchen doesn't do it, the sudden movement of the kitchen to function without him more than solidifies it. Carmen’s taking five wether he wants to or not.

Not wanting a repeat of a year ago, Carm takes to the office instead, seeing Sugar seated at the desk looking at paperwork, all shes been relegated to now that shes just had little Mikey. A name Carmen was surprisingly happy to approve of when Pete brought it up to the two of them, asking if it was okay. Nat had nearly bawled her eyes out thanks to the combination of pregnancy hormones and the normal grasp she had on her emotions compared to Carmen.

“You look like your gonna throw up,” she says, glancing up from the papers before her. A half hearted fuck off is all she gets in responce as Carmen flops back on the soft leather couch in the office. She tosses him the pepto before she turns to sign something.

“You wanna talk about why Richie kicked you off?” she asks, her back still turned.

“It’s nothing,” he says before taking a swig of the pink liquid as he sits up and faces her.

“It’s not nothing if you look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like that,” she says turning and gesturing vaguely at him. “Like you just found out Santa isn’t real or some-fucking-thing.” Carmen shakes his head avoiding her gaze and looking out the door with a huff. Crossing his arms trying to end the conversation. It wasn't that he never wanted to talk about it, he did. He just didn't have the time.

The last time he had told any one about you, he had talked to Mikey about how awkwardly ended things with you. Mikey told him not to be a jagoff after hearing his rant. That was almost a week before he died. It became easier to not think about you because it always led to thoughts of Mikey. How Carm should have known or should have talked to him more about how he was, how the beef was doing, how ma and Natilie were, if there was anything Michael wanted to get off his chest or was stressed about or something other than Carmen's girl problems.

Then Carm had to worry about selling his apartment in New York, quitting his job, getting an apartment here and moving, running The Beef, which was its own massive undertaking, turning it into The Bear and worrying about Claire, dishes, codes, tests, money that was likely tied to the mob via Uncle Jimmy, chefs, the building, new hires, the test night and the the dreaded walk-in he had to thank for letting him rant until he talked out of his ass and fucked up his personal life even more.

“Fine whatever avoid it if you want but thats not going to make it any better,” Nat huffed out, rolling her eyes as she turned. Carmen knew she was right, but that didn't make it any easier. But if the Al-Anon meetings had taught him anything it was that talking about it did actually help.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, leg bouncing with the nerves of from trying to find the words he wanted to say.

“When I was in New York,” he started, already feeling a nervous sweat breakout on his face, back, and hands. “There was this girl…”

#carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fic #the bear hulu #the bear fx #carmy x you #carmy x fem!reader #jeremy allen white

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magicshopaholic · 3 months

Text

Helping Hands

Summary: Seokjin makes a suggestion without realising its consequences. Yoongi tries to help but faces resistance. Hoseok skips dance rehearsal. Jungkook gets involved against his will.

Pairing: Seokjin x OC, Yoongi x OC, Hoseok x OC, minor Namjoon x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Mild humour, awkwardness, tension, angst

Word count: 14.1 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, alcohol, kissing, dubious sexual harassment

A/N: It's been a whole month since the last fic; I feel like I've been reborn as I format this post. Hope you all enjoy this - it's a lot of chaos and movement of plot. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

You will all be pleased to know that I have once again not edited this fic. Takes place approximately two months after Touch, three months after Near Misses, and about four months after Tea and Olive (and about a month after Final Destination).

Tagging: @bbl32@ quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @dreaming-with-happiness @confessionsofamarshlily @purpleseoul7 @sumzysworld

Listen to: "mr brightside" by the killers

seokjin masterlist | yoongi masterlist | hoseok masterlist | main masterlist

Chaeyoung [19:10] Big Hit lobby. SOS.

Something catches in Hoseok’s chest. Suddenly, Seokjin’s struggles with a combination don’t seem as worrisome.

“I’ll be right back,” he says shortly, picking up his jacket and racing down the hallway to the lifts, ignoring Namjoon calling his name.

Hoseok hurries into the lobby and scans the area, noting that nothing seems to look out of place. He spots her then; she’s by the sofas in the waiting area, standing on one hip and frowning mildly at her phone in one hand. The other hand is absently playing with the corner of a sparkly pink scarf around her neck.

He walks up to her, his heart already slowing slightly. “Chae,” he says, mostly to snap her out of her laser gaze at her phone.

She looks up at him and her face breaks out into a grin. “Oppa, hi!” she exclaims brightly. “What’s up?”

“What’s -” He shakes his head. “What do you mean? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says, nodding. “Why?”

“Because -” Hoseok frowns, fishing his phone out of his pocket and finding her text, wondering wildly if he’d imagined this. “Did you send me this?” he asks, turning the screen to her. “SOS?”

Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows and nods in understanding. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. The receptionist wouldn’t let me upstairs to see you without having to sign in and I needed to find a way to bring you down here immediately. I’m taking the bus home and it’s going to be here in, like, ten minutes.” She shrugs in a what-are-you-going-to-do kind of way.

Hoseok stares at her incredulously. “Are you kidding me right now? I just had a heart attack.”

“Why?”

“Because you said SOS! Save - Our - Souls!” he exclaims, clapping his hands to punctuate each word. “I thought something was wrong. I thought you were -” Here, he catches himself and forces himself to take a deep breath. “Forget it. What do you want?”

Chaeyoung doesn’t answer right away. She looks somewhat uncertain, as though just realising her harmless trick might have backfired. “I, uh…” She clears her throat and rummages in her tote bag. “I brought you a coffee,” she says, bringing out a clear glass with brown liquid and ice cubes rattling inside it. “It’s an Americano,” she adds, stretching her hand out to him until he takes it.

Hoseok stares. “And?”

“And -” She dives into her tote bag again, this time revealing a baby blue cardboard box. “- a muffin!”

His eyes dart from her face to the muffin and back to her. “I’m on tour. I can’t eat sugar.”

“Oh, it’s a sugar-free muffin.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Probably. I don’t know.” She sighs and Hoseok hopes she’s finally getting to the point. “Can we - can we talk somewhere a little more private?”

He struggles not to roll his eyes. “Okay,” he says drily, turning around and leading them to a meeting room inside a corridor behind the main lobby. He pushes the glass door open and holds it for her to skip inside, before closing it behind him. The white lights turn on automatically and the projector screen blinks to life.

“Alright,” he says, placing the coffee on the table and sighing. “What was so important that you needed to trick me into leaving rehearsal midway?”

“Okay,” she begins, placing her hands on the table and licking her lips. They are a glossy pink, notices Hoseok, looking light and natural yet perfectly made up. Maybe they’re pinker against her skin, or it’s the lighting.

“- have a proposal for you. Oppa?”

Hoseok starts, realising he’s missed what she’s said while being distracted by the colour of her lips. Mortified, he clears his throat. “Sorry,” he mutters shortly, shaking his head. “Uh, I haven’t… slept. What did you say?”

She frowns but nods. “I was saying… do you remember when Chanyeol threw his fifteenth birthday party at our house and when all of you were playing Truth or Dare and I tried to join in, you said that the game was only for people without braces and then I ran away and cried in my bedroom?”

He stares at her, dumbfounded. “I… what?”

Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows. “I’m not making this up. This actually happened.”

“No, I - I remember. Oh, God,” he mutters, his neck starts to heat up with embarrassment. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

“And,” she continues, on a roll apparently, “remember when one of your idiot classmates sneaked in peppermint schnapps and even though I saw you all drinking, I still didn’t rat you out even after you were a jerk to me?”

Hoseok chokes, wishing the ground would swallow him up. “Is this why you showed up here? To remind me of my shameful past?”

“No, actually. I came here to give you a chance to redeem yourself.”

“Okayyy.”

“And to very generously unburden you of the plus-one you have for the three Michelin star restaurant opening at the St Regis tomorrow night at six pm, hosted by Marco Pierre White,” she adds seamlessly.

Hoseok stares at her for a moment before chuckling. “Wow, that was worth the journey. You bought a coffee and a muffin for that?” he asks, rolling his eyes.

Chaeyoung squeezes her eyes shut and clasps her hands in front of her chest. “Please, oppa? Please, please, please, please -”

“You want to be my date to an event?”

“No, I don’t want to be your date - I want to be a plus-one. Just - just allow me entry into the event and I’ll leave you alone after that,” she promises. “You won’t even remember I’m there.”

Fat chance of that. But he doesn’t say it, opting to take a minuscule bite of the muffin and let her continue on her spiel.

“Look,” she sighs through her nose. “This is for work. I need content, okay? The last few stories I’ve submitted have been nothing special,” she says. “Those are the actual words my boss used: nothing special. And the other two in my team - one is the son of a CEO and the other is the literal niece of the editor. The only person I have is you,” she finishes.

He raises his eyebrows. “Me?”

“Yes! And if I get to cover this -” She lets out a low breath. “It’ll be everything. It’s super exclusive so it’ll be luxury, it’ll be art, culture, music, business. It’ll be everything,” she repeats, her eyes huge and wide and pleading. “I really need this, oppa, please, please?”

Something feels like it’s being squeezed in Hoseok’s heart and he resists the urge to pinch her cheeks. He sighs hugely and closes his eyes, wondering how the hell he went from barely being able to stand her to being on the verge of inventing a plus-one for her if needed.

“Oh, my God.” Chaeyoung gasps suddenly, her cheeks reddening. “You’ve already used your plus-one, haven’t you?”

“No! No - no, I haven’t,” he answers, shaking his head. “And… fine. I’ll take you.”

She freezes for a second, then breaks out into a grin. “Really? Oh - thank you, oppa!” she exclaims in delight, reaching forward and hugging him before stepping back and clapping her hands. “It was the coffee, wasn’t it?”

“That - that helped,” he agrees, reeling slightly in the flowery scent.

“And I promise you won’t even know I’m there,” she reiterates. “I’ll get there on time - I’ll take the bus. Just give my name to the door or whatever and I’ll get there myself and I won’t bother you at all.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he tells her, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her dramatics. “There won’t be any cameras inside so you’ll be fine.”

Chaeyoung shrugs and beams. “Either way. I owe you big time. Or not, actually,” she adds suddenly. “You know, because of the whole… schnapps and braces thing.”

“Yes, I remember,” he says quickly, his face heating up again. “We’re even.”

“Okay, great. See you tomorrow!” She hugs him again before gathering her stuff and heading to the door. “Thanks again!”

Hoseok watches her leave through the glass doors, his stomach floating. A moment later, he picks up the muffin and takes a large bite of it and scoffs inwardly. Chocolate.

He takes a second bite and heads back up to practice.

—

Seokjin takes advantage of the few minutes that Hoseok has disappeared and lies down on the floor of the practice room, spread-eagled. All he can hear are the sounds of his heart pounding from the intense cardio, his heavy breathing and the blood pumping in his ears.

“Hyung.” A foot nudges his shoulder. “Do the bridge combo with me.”

Seokjin doesn’t even open his eyes. “No.”

“Come on, we need to practice.”

He appreciates the we that Jungkook tactfully tacks on, but shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“Just once.”

“No.”

“Hyung, what about you?” He’s talking to someone else now. Seokjin is too tired to open his eyes and see who it is, but thankfully that person lets himself be known.

“No.”

Yoongi’s answer has a finality to it that Seokjin will never be able to achieve, its biggest achievement being that Jungkook doesn’t ask him a second time. Seokjin opens his eyes a millimeter to see the maknae skip to the other side of the practice room and harass Jimin, watching them for a few seconds before sighing and dragging himself up into a sitting position.

“How great would it be if I sprained my ankle or something right now?” he mutters to Yoongi.

Yoongi doesn’t look away from where Taehyung and Jimin, and now Jungkook, are practicing their routine. “So you can sit out the next couple of days and get some rest?”

“Exactly.”

He shurgs. “Tomorrow is a light day. Ish. Just filming in the morning and the other thing in the evening.”

“Oh, yeah.” Seokjin doesn’t mind it. He’s not looking forward to it, per se, but Seulgi will be there, other friends from the industry will be there and since they won’t be in an English-speaking country, he’s sure to be less self-conscious while making conversation.

“Are you bringing Seulgi?”

Seokjin nods. “I told the company two weeks ago, when they emailed us the invite. I don’t miss the constant follow-ups, believe me,” he sighs, stretching. “Are you bringing anyone?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer for a moment. “I don’t think so,” he says eventually. “I guess I’ll have to tell the company. They’ll make a fuss, though, that I’m telling them at the last moment.”

“Wait, you still have your plus-one?” He waits for Yoongi to nod, just to confirm. “You know who really wants to go? Nari.”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “Your Nari?”

“My friend Nari,” he clarifies, having expected this. “But… yeah. I told her about it a couple of days ago and she said she tried to get tickets to it but the handful of public ones sold out in half a day. I mean… obviously, I can’t take her. But if you have an extra and you aren’t doing anything with it…” He trails off, giving Yoongi a meaningful look.

Yoongi frowns mildly. “You’re really okay with that? You, Nari… your girlfriend… together?”

Seokjin bites his lip and looks away. He and Nari had resumed their friendship tentatively - so tentatively that he doesn’t even want to talk about it for fear of jinxing it. He’d decided to give Nari space after that disastrous dinner, utterly confused as to why she was so angry with him all the time and what he was meant to do to make it better. Weeks passed with no contact until it occurred to Seokjin that if he didn’t reach out first, they would potentially never speak again.

It began with a single text; he’d messaged requesting her to wish her parents a happy anniversary. She’d responded hours later with a Sure, but since it was more than Seokjin had expected, he’d used it as a segue to mention her parents’ anniversary party years ago and the conversation continued.

For the first time in his life, Seokjin was glad to be on tour. It provided the right amount of distance while also giving him a valid excuse to miss her - somehow, missing Nari felt like he was being unfair to Seulgi. He didn’t want to talk to any of his friends about it for fear of being right so he kept it restricted to texts as far as possible, something which seemed to suit Nari as well.

He’d been upfront about it with Seulgi; she’d sounded a bit surprised at first but didn’t say much more about it. He knew it couldn’t go on like this forever, though, that they would have to meet sometime. This event seemed as good as anything: Nari actively wanted to go, Seokjin had found a way for that to happen, and there was no pressure on any of them to host.

“It’s an event,” says Seokjin. “It’s not going to be the three of us alone.”

Yoongi nods but doesn’t pry. “Sure. I’ll let Nari know.”

A weight seems to have been lifted from Seokjin’s shoulders. “Thank you.”

Yoongi simply nods, but Seokjin sighs inwardly in relief. He would be seeing Nari again; maybe this would be the beginning of something new. Something different.

—

Nari’s hand jerks by a millimeter when her phone rings suddenly, causing her to disturb the clean line of sutures she’s practicing.

“Damn it,” she whispers, moving the surgical scissors to her left hand and retrieving her phone from the pocket of her lab coat hanging on the back of her chair. She reads the name on the screen and frowns, her momentary irritation forgotten as she answers it uncertainly.

“Yoongi?” she asks, just to be sure. She can’t remember the last time she met Yoongi; it has to have been a year, at least.

“Hey, Nari.” There’s a shuffle on the other end. “Hope I’m not bothering you.” There’s a pause. “I texted.”

“Oh.” She checks her notifications to see two messages from him from half an hour ago. “Sorry. I’ve been busy today,” she says, placing the phone on the table, putting it on speaker. She’s alone in the skills lab for once and she’s determined to master these sutures today, even if she has to do it while on the phone.

“No problem. I, uh… do you want to go to this restaurant opening tomorrow? It’s called… Mélanges, I think. I have an extra ticket.”

Nari almost messes up another suture. Placing the practice kit to the side and frowning at the phone, she repeats his own words back to him. “Do I want to go… to the Melange opening night… with you?”

“That’s right.”

There’s another pause, this time lasting longer while Nari tries to process this. She wonders briefly if she’s missing something.

“You have an extra ticket? Or is it a plus-one?” she prods, hoping he’ll prove her wrong.

“It’s a plus-one,” he confirms, his voice a monotone. “The company gave all of us the option to bring someone.”

This, she knows. She knows who Namjoon will bring, who Taehyung will bring depending on what his situation with that racer girl is, who Seokjin will bring…

“Are you in?”

Nari bites her lip. “Why me? Don’t you have anyone else you’d like to take?” She says this with an awkward chuckle.

“No,” he says flatly. “And Jin hyung said you wanted to go and I have an extra, so I thought I’d ask.”

“Seokjin told you to ask me?” The words are out of her mouth before she can help it. She can’t imagine Seokjin would ever set her up, with Yoongi no less. Something feels like it’s sinking in her stomach, but it’s so slow and so heavy that she doesn’t have the mental bandwidth to focus on it right now.

“I have to get into a meeting.”

The hint is clear. Nari leans back in her chair, her gaze falling on the abandoned sutures. She’s scrubbing in on a CABG surgery tonight, one that’s sure to go on well into the morning. She has to get these sutures right by then, just like she has to be in a place where Seokjin setting her up doesn’t it bother her.

Besides, she really wants to go. It’s an opportunity to get out of the hospital and be in something other than scrubs and, if she’s lucky, put on some make-up.

“Um, yeah. Sure. What time?”

“It starts at six. I’ll text you the address.” There’s a click and Yoongi hangs up.

Nari watches her phone screen go dark, her mind moving in slow motion. Yoongi is the last person she ever expected to have this conversation with but then again, Seokjin is the last person she expected to meddle in her love life.

But it’s time, she supposes. She would have had to see him sometime and if she’s seeing him with Seulgi, it wouldn’t hurt to have a date on her arm as well, even if it is a person who until today was only ever Seokjin’s quietest friend.

—

Chaeyoung stares at two pairs of heels, one white and one violet, wondering which one would be more professional and still the one that would allow her to stay on her feet longer.

She wishes they would speak to her. She’s already getting late and if the bus is also late, she can say goodbye to the first section of her research on the set-up and arrival of the attendants.

The doorbell rings just as she picks the violet pair. Pulling them on as she hops to the door, she opens it to reveal Hoseok, in an all-black ensemble, with the shirt unbuttoned to reveal a sliver of tan collarbone, and his hair perfectly styled.

“Hey,” she says slowly, placing her foot back on the ground. “What are you doing here?”

Hoseok, who seems to be momentarily surprised at seeing her in a dress, shrugs belatedly. “What do you mean? You’re my date for tonight, so… I’m picking you up.”

He says it like it’s obvious. Chaeyoung doesn’t respond for a moment, an ancient, repressed part of her heart skipping a beat at the sentiment.

“Oh,” she says. “You didn’t have to do that. I was going to take the bus, but… come in,” she adds, opening the door wider.

“Unfortunately, my parents raised me better than that,” he quips, stepping inside with his hands inside his pockets. A faint, comforting scent of cologne travels with him, of something light and airy. “Are you ready?”

“Almost,” she replies, suddenly remembering her heels and bending to fasten them. When she stands up straight, she’s nearly three inches taller.

Hoseok raises his eyebrows. “It’s like magic,” he jokes dryly, his eyes dropping lower and his smile fading slightly. His gaze stutters around her chest before he meets her eyes deliberately. “Are you sure that’s not…” He swallows awkwardly. “Too revealing?”

Chaeyoung frowns and looks down, seeing the hints of cleavage she’d deliberately picked this dress out for. In her opinion, it made her look more womanly and less childish; it has come to her notice that she might be taken less seriously than her peers due to her youthful appearance and while it sounds like a compliment, Chaeyoung knows it’s no way to get ahead in her career.

“No,” she answers, adjusting her neckline. “Believe me, I chose this dress for a reason. You know, you really didn’t have to come,” she repeats, sounding slightly apologetic. “You’re doing me a big enough favour by just inviting me.”

“It’s not a big deal. The last thing I need is you calling me from outside the event because security won’t let you in.”

Chaeyoung chuckles good-naturedly. “Well, that doesn’t not sound like me,” she agrees, disappearing back into her room. “Still,” she adds from inside, “it’s really cool of you.”

Hoseok struggles not to roll his eyes and checks his watch. They’ll make it on time if she wraps up in the next couple of minutes. He wonders if he can talk her into wearing some kind of scarf before deciding it’s not worth the hassle, for it’s almost guaranteed to start a fight.

“Chae, I don’t mean to be that guy,” he calls out, hearing vague sounds from inside her room, “but we should head out soon.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” she says hurriedly, clutching a fistful of jewellery and shuffling out of the room in tiny steps, he presumes, so as to not trip over her heels. “You really didn’t have to do this, you know. I’m totally fine getting there by myself,” she tells him sombrely. “I hate to inconvenience you.”

“Fine, I’ll just leave in that case. You can take the bus and meet me there.” He turns to leave.

“Okay, okay.” She grabs his arm and grins sheepishly. “Thank you for the ride, oppa,” she says sweetly.

Hoseok does his best to ignore the vague fluttering in his stomach. “You got it. Now can we go?”

“Yeah, just a minute.” She heads over to the dining table and lays out the jewellery and mercifully doesn’t spend much time deciding on the simple silver chain with a pendant dangling from it. Grabbing a small clutch from the table, she approaches him.

“Do you mind?” She hands him the necklace. “I spent an hour doing my nails to perfection today and I really don’t want to ruin them.”

“Oh - um, okay.” A little taken aback, Hoseok takes the necklace, noting the dark purple pendant that matches her shoes. Chaeyoung turns around expectantly and he gingerly moves his arms over her head to bring the necklace around her neck. Before he can say anything, she sweeps her long hair off her neck and over her shoulder, revealing more skin than Hoseok had anticipated.

His fingers slightly unsteady, he tries to focus all his concentration on the delicate silver clasp and not on anything else - not his fingers brushing the indents of her spine, not the thin straps of her dress against her exposed back, not her moving closer to him to give him a better view so he can -

“Oh!” Hoseok jumps backwards like he’s been burnt. Chaeyoung turns around, too, looking startled.

“What?”

“I -” He looks up to see her frowning. “Nothing. It - it’s done,” he stutters, watching as she feels for the clasp and tugs at it once.

“Cool. Thanks.” She nods, flipping her hair back and looking at him. “Are you okay?”

Not trusting himself to speak, Hoseok nods. He can still feel her hips brushing against his, the suddenness of it and the smoothness of the satin, mixed with the flowery perfume.

“Sure?”

“Let’s go,” he says abruptly, spinning on his heel and stalking out the front door. He hears her gathering her keys and closing the door and he subtly adjusts his slacks, making sure she doesn’t notice when she joins him.

—

When they enter the venue, Chaeyoung lets out a low whistle.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, her gaze darting around the interior bathed in golden light. “I owe you big time for this, oppa.” She fluffs out her hair and takes a deep breath as Yoongi joins them, to whom she gives a small wave. “Okay, I see Sooah. She promised me tips on which guest to start with so I can work my way through the crowd. Thanks again for this,” she says, squeezing Hoseok’s arm appreciatively and walking away.

Hoseok watches her go in the direction of the small makeshift stage, her long hair dancing behind her. He can’t help but feel a little sorry as she does, for he was hoping she would at least hang around with him for the initial bit of the party.

“Isn’t that your friend’s sister?”

“What?” His train of thought interrupted, he turns to see Yoongi raising his eyebrows blankly. “Oh. Yeah. She needed access to a bunch of socialites for work, so I thought…” He gestures vaguely.

Yoongi nods. “She’ll definitely find those here. I kind of thought this would be a totally different crowd.” He clicks his tongue.

“The Samsung chairman is here,” he replies, tilting his head towards a group of men in slick suits. “So it’s that crowd. I mean, look around - there’s his daughter, she’s always in the paper. Then there’s… oh, that actor - Dong-won? Something like that. Choi Siwon is here, whoa… Suh Minjung, Kang Sera, Lim Hayeon…”

Yoongi pauses. Something stirs in the back of his mind. A name, a face, lots of diamonds, an air of superiority laced with insecurity. Just as he starts flipping through the memories, they’re joined by Seokjin and with him, his girlfriend Seulgi in a salmon-coloured dress, holding a martini glass.

“This restaurant is going to be insane,” declares Seokjin, once they’re done with basic pleasantries. “The appetisers are to die for.”

“The cocktails aren’t bad either,” says Seulgi approvingly, taking a sip of hers.

“I’ll take your word for it,” says Hoseok, his stomach already rumbling. He looks around again to see if he can spot Chaeyoung, his heart sinking slightly when he doesn’t see her. He doesn’t know how she’s planning to approach all these people tonight; he wonders if he should bring her a drink, just for liquid courage.

“Who else is here?” Seokjin asks.

“Taehyung and Jimin are running late, as usual,” supplies Yoongi. “Jungkook is here somewhere and Namjoon said he was reaching a few minutes ago…” He fishes out his phone, presumably to check.

“Isn’t that him right there?” Seulgi points towards the bar, and all three men turn to see Namjoon, tall and blond, at the bar. They watch as he accepts a glass of whiskey and takes a big sip from it, swallowing it with a pained frown before visibly forcing his face to relax as he starts to socialise.

“That’s not good,” remarks Hoseok in a low voice. “How was he in the studio today?” he asks Yoongi.

“I didn’t go. He said he could do it himself.” He shrugs apologetically. “I was fine avoiding him for a bit.”

Seulgi frowns. “Why are you guys avoiding him?”

Seokjin sighs hugely. “He and his girlfriend broke up and he’s… kind of using all his energy to be normal on stage and in public,” he ventures.

“So, he’s totally depressed in private,” says Hoseok, voicing what Seokjin had tactfully left unsaid.

She winces. “That’s rough.”

Seokjin makes a noise of acknowledgement. “We can’t let him drink himself to death tonight just because there’s an open bar, though. Someone needs to look out for him.”

Hoseok gives him a look. “He’ll be fine; he’s technically working. But I can do it,” he adds quickly, when Seokjin narrows his eyes at him. “For a while.”

“I’ll take over for you,” offers Yoongi as Hoseok leaves to go to Namjoon, looking at his phone again. “Nari’s calling - hang on.” He answers it and backs away from the rest of the group.

“Right.” Seokjin exhales and puts his hands in his pockets. “I almost forgot Nari was coming.”

He misses Seulgi’s fleeting frown. “Really? You mentioned it in the car.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah.”

Seokjin looks confused for a moment but then looks ahead to see Yoongi and Nari entering the venue, stopping at the bar first. They seem to be speaking in short sentences, his hands in his pockets and hers crossed over her chest as she looks around warily. Her eyes meet Seokjin’s for a moment and he smiles a bit in response, raising a tentative hand in greeting. At that moment, however, the bartender slides her drink across the bar and she turns away, nodding at something Yoongi says.

They walk over, Nari hanging back slightly as they approach.

Seulgi speaks first. “Hi, Nari,” she says, giving her a small smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah,” replies Nari, looking slightly awkward. “You, too.” There’s a pause where no one speaks. “You look nice.”

“Thank you. You do, too.”

“Thanks.”

Seokjin, feeling rather like he wants to die, takes a deep breath. “Good to know you got the evening off.”

“Yeah, I was in a fourteen hour surgery last night and I’ve worked overtime this week.” She shrugs and her face relaxes a bit. “They basically told me to take the night off.”

He smiles a little wider, glad they’re at least talking, when Yoongi interrupts them.

“I’ll be right back,” he says abruptly, walking away with no further explanation, his gaze trained in one direction.

Leaving the others, he walks as quickly as he can without attracting attention, making a beeline for a person whom the universe has made it impossible for him to run into at Big Hit during the last two days that he’s been here in Seoul.

Miso notices him when he’s about ten feet away, her face lighting up momentarily at the sight of him before it immediately freezes into a warning one. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head infinitesimally, but he’s already reached her.

“Hey, stranger,” he mutters, sounding slightly breathless to his own ears.

“Go away,” she whispers through gritted teeth. “Now.”

Something feels like it’s getting crushed in his stomach when she looks away from him, but it’s only then that he notices who she’s with; a group of women, all dressed in designer wear and holding glasses of champagne, beginning to take notice of him one by one.

“You look familiar,” says one of them, looking brilliantly beautiful in a red low-cut gown. “Are you an actor?”

Yoongi starts to shake his head, but someone else answers for him.

“No. He’s Miso’s… friend.” Kang Sera, once again laden in diamond jewellery and a beige dress with smaller diamonds encrusted in it, smiles without disturbing the rest of her face. “You have been to my house,” she states.

“Well… yes, ma’am.” Yoongi nods, noting from the corner of his eye how Miso stiffens next to him. She’s in a white dress tonight, looking smaller and more delicate among this crowd of rich socialites than he’s ever seen her. He forces himself not to turn towards her. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Sera gives him that same cold smile before turning to her daughter. “Miso, you may go with your friend if you wish,” she offers. “You don’t have to stay with us. We’ll just bore you.” Everyone titters in response.

Yoongi is about to sigh inwardly in relief when, to his surprise, Miso shakes her head. “Thank you, Mother, but we’re just colleagues. Yoongi has other friends here. I’ll see you tomorrow at work,” she says to him smoothly, reaching over to switch her empty champagne flute from a passing waiter. She turns away again, this time with a sinking finality.

He swallows and backs away, before turning around and finishing the rest of his drink in one go as he walks away. He’s barely reached the bar again when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

Kang Chanel [18:50] I’m sorry. But you have to stay away tonight.

All of a sudden, the room seems a little brighter. Yoongi looks in her direction; she isn’t looking at him, standing silently and unsmiling among the other women of Seoul, looking terribly out of place.

Min Suga [18:51] Why? I’m not afraid of your mother.

He watches as she subtly turns her phone towards her, her hand near her hip, and types out a reply with one hand.

Kang Chanel [18:51] You don’t have to be. Just do as I ask. Please.

Yoongi clutches his phone tightly, feeling every lingering ounce of worry and fear and downright uncertainty about Miso that he’s kept to himself the last two months while on tour. That’s the worst part: the uncertainty of what the hell her life is, of why she’s so guarded all the time. Every conversation he’d initiated stayed frustratingly limited to texting, making it far easier for her to divert the topic every time it came to her.

“How’s it going?” Hoseok appears from seemingly nowhere, tapping his fingers on the bar. “Um… one appletini and… one Long Island Iced Tea,” he says to the bartender before turning back to Yoongi. “Hyung?”

“Fine,” he says shortly. “What about you? Two drinks?”

“One’s for Chaeyoung,” he answers. “She’s been gone for a while and I just want to make sure she’s okay and stuff. Have a drink with her, make sure she’s not lonely or bored. I brought her here; it’s only polite.”

Yoongi nods absently before frowning. “Weren’t you on Namjoon duty?”

“Yeah, but you’re going to have to take over now. If you want company, you can ask… no, Jimin is hanging around Sooah… oh, Taehyung is free,” he offers. “He and Jungkook are discussing the conditions for Dilara’s race this weekend but other than that, they might be fun.”

He considers this. “Sure. Not like I have anything else to do,” he mutters, taking his second whiskey and hopping off the stool.

Something is off with Yoongi, Hoseok is sure. But he isn’t about to let that negativity dim his focus. He grabs the drinks and snakes through the crowd to where he sees Chaeyoung with a couple of vaguely familiar chaebol-turned-actors, and Park Jimin. They’re all smiling and talking, and she has her phone out as one of them talks deliberately into the speaker.

“And that’s my official statement,” he declares, winking at her as Hoseok comes closer.

Chaeyoung laughs and locks her phone deliberately. “Thank you. I can’t wait to hear your unofficial statements now.” She turns to see Hoseok. “Oh - hey.”

“Hey,” he says, casually making his way in between her and the guy she was talking to. “Thought I’d get you a drink, in case you’re too busy to get one.”

“Oh, well… technically, I’m working,” she says sheepishly, accepting it anyway. “But one drink won’t hurt, I guess.”

“The more, the better,” her new friend says.

“Hyung, did you get a drink for me, too?” Jimin pipes up hopefully.

“Nope. Who are your friends?” he asks Chaeyoung, smiling frozenly at the other two.

“Oh, this is Lee Eunwoo -” she points to the first one “- and this is, of course, Kim Baekhyun from The Lost Ship,” she finishes, smiling brightly. It’s a different smile, Hoseok notices. He wonders if this is her work smile; either way, he knows it’s one he’s never seen. “This is -”

“J-Hope!” One of them - Eunwoo or Baekhyun - says loudly and in mild wonder. “Honour to meet you!”

Slightly mollified, he nods. “Er, thank you. Are you both -”

“Drinks!” he continues, snapping at a waiter and beckoning for him to come over. Hoseok frowns at him while Chaeyoung and Jimin visibly cringe, and watches as he supplies Jimin and his friend with fresh drinks. “To BTS!” he declares randomly, holding his glass out so everyone clinks theirs with it.

“Chaeyoung was telling us about her job,” says the other one - Hoseok can’t remember which one he is. “She’s been working very hard tonight,” he adds, giving her another wink.

Hoseok imagines knocking his glass out of his hand so his drink spills down his crisp white shirt. “She’s a hard worker. Always has been,” he says instead, throwing a brave arm around her shoulders. He ignores Jimin’s raise of the eyebrows and the slight pink tinge that appears on Chaeyoung’s cheeks.

He hangs around there for a while, a chaotic group of twenty-somethings drinking with gusto at what was supposed to be a classy event. Sooah joins them for about ten minutes as well, taking a short break from her organising duties, and somehow influences everyone to chug their drinks and get fresh ones.

“I’m good,” says Chaeyoung, good-naturedly declining another drink. Sooah doesn’t push and Hoseok, relieved at Chaeyoung’s decision, is about to decline another one as well when one of the chaebols gets involved.

“I thought we were just getting started!” he groans jokingly. “It’s seven-thirty - the drinking has barely commenced,” he adds, taking another drink from a waiter, who pauses expectantly with the remaining drinks on the tray.

Something about the guy’s - Eunwoo, Hoseok decides - statement sounds vaguely challenging. Hoseok knows better, though. He should know better, but the image of Eunwoo winking at Chaeyoung compels him to accept another flute of champagne and clink it hard with his.

“Hoseok, are you sure?” Chaeyoung asks in a low voice.

“Of course, I am,” he answers, even as his vision swims slightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’re kind of leaning on me a bit,” she tells him, holding his shoulder to steady him.

“Isn’t that what friends are for?” he asks vaguely, taking another long swig of the bubbly champagne and feeling it go directly to his head. It stings his throat pleasantly and he welcomes the sensation, the only other ones he’s completely aware of being Chaeyoung’s hand on his shoulder and the familiar flowery scent.

She chuckles. “Sure. But maybe you should drink some water?”

It sounds like a good idea. He bites his lip, though, and looks down at Chaeyoung seriously. “And you’ll stay right here when I’m gone?”

“Absolutely,” she promises. “I won’t go anywhere.”

“Alrighty. I’ll come find you.” He pats her head and makes his way to the bar, using all his concentration to walk to the bar in a straight line. The further he gets away from that noisy group, the steadier he feels. He reaches the bar and stops himself next to a woman nibbling on an hors d'oeuvre.

“Hoseok?”

He does a double take when he notices her. “Nari?” He blinks a couple of times to confirm that it is indeed her. “Wh - hey! It’s been a while. Are you here with, um…”

“Jin? No.” She shakes her head. “I’m here with Yoongi, actually?”

Hoseok wonders if he’s heard her correctly. “Really?” When she nods, he frowns. “Min Yoongi? Like, our -”

“Yes, that one.” She rolls her eyes as her drink arrives, along with Hoseok’s glass of water.

“Oh.” He takes a slow sip. “Does Jin hyung know?”

Nari exhales heavily. “It was his idea, apparently. Unfortunately, my date seems to be very busy and has been MIA for most of the evening so far.”

Hoseok feels rather like he’s missing something, but he’s intrigued. He locates Chaeyoung with some effort, still with the same group, Jimin still with them. Almost as though she can hear his train of thought, she catches his eye and waves, miming drinking something.

“She’s cute,” remarks Nari. “Do you know her?”

“Yeah, she’s my date,” he says, surprisingly easily.

“Mhm. Like a date-date or a date you kind of abandon once she’s inside?”

“Erm… a date-date.” Hoseok chews his bottom lip awkwardly. “God, I hope they serve the food soon,” he says after a few moments.

“Me, too,” she starts to say when, to Hoseok’s immense relief, Namjoon and Yoongi approach them, the latter giving Hoseok a meaningful look as he trails slightly behind the leader.

“Please tell me they’re serving the food soon,” groans Namjoon, placing his empty glass on the bar and standing next to Hoseok. “Oh - hey, Nari.”

Nari nods at him while Yoongi stands on her other side. “Cheers,” he says quietly, clinking his glass with hers, apparently not noticing her motionless stature. “Where’s Jin hyung?” he asks after a moment.

“No idea. How’s your night going?” she asks in turn, a slight bite in her tone.

He shakes his head. “Crap.”

She doesn’t bother answering, choosing to sip at her drink instead. “I could really use some food,” she mutters, mostly to herself.

“I’m heading over to the appetiser station. If you want to come,” offers Namjoon indifferently.

“Sure, why not?” With that, she and Namjoon leave the bar without another word to Hoseok or Yoongi.

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to go with him?” Hoseok hisses.

“Namjoon is a big boy. He can manage himself for a while,” says Yoongi dismissively. His eyes roam the hall, searching for Miso. Every moment that he doesn’t see her feels like something bad waiting to happen; the memories of the last time they were at a party and she disappeared from his sight haunts him. How late he’d been to save her, what possibly happened as a result of it… it’s kept him up more nights than he cares to count, despite Miso herself absolving him of any guilt.

His anger at the enigmatic Kang Jaesung rises again, as it has at various times in the last couple of months. He’s not here tonight, though; Yoongi has checked the guest list with Sooah, but it’s no matter. Miso’s father isn’t here, but her mother certainly is.

Miso’s message floats through his mind. He knows he should adhere to her wishes but it’s so hard, so difficult to sit here and do nothing and know nothing when he has at least an inkling of how horrible her parents are. Just as he’s struggling with this dilemma, in an insane coincidence, Kang Sera takes Nari’s vacant spot and orders a drink.

Yoongi freezes, noting vaguely as Hoseok floats away with a fresh drink in his hand. Before he can decide whether to say anything, she seems to notice who he is.

“Miso’s friend,” she exclaims, the same half-smile on her face again.

“Yoongi.” He pauses. “Nice to meet you again.”

“It’s nice to meet a friend of Miso’s. It doesn’t happen very often, actually,” she chuckles. “Remind me again how you know each other?”

“We’re co-producers at Big Hit,” he answers. “We’re in the same - we used to be in the same team. Until recently.” He bites his lip.

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow. “Why aren’t you anymore?”

She wanted a change and I pushed her into it without knowing. “It’s just part of the deal,” he says instead. “We all work with different producers.”

“Interesting. You’re the only one I’ve ever heard of, though,” she points out. “I’m glad she has a friend. I worry about her sometimes, you know.”

Yoongi lowers his head, trying not to look too confused. He’s insightful enough to know that she’s not being genuine about concern for her daughter, but he also can’t tell what she’s getting at.

“She’s - she’s good at her job,” he says eventually. “We’ve worked together for a while.”

It’s back, the cold smile, as though she’s forgotten how to show real happiness. “That’s great. You should come home sometime, in that case. For dinner. We have a world renowned private chef who can make you anything you like.”

Yoongi nods his head in silence, more preoccupied with imagining being seated opposite Kang Jaesung at the dining table and keeping calm rather than the private chef and his prowess.

He feels a hand on his shoulder. “In fact, if you’re free -“

Something appears in between them and Yoongi realises a moment later that it’s Miso, placing herself between them with her back to him. Her hair brushes against his shoulders and his heart catches.

“Mother, Minseo from Balmain is here,” she says calmly, cutting her off. “She said she was looking for you, so I thought I’d look for - oh. Hello, Yoongi.”

She glances at him for barely a moment; he can almost believe that they hardly know each other.

Sera raises her eyebrows and her eyes flit between both of them before she nods. “Of course. Have a good evening, Yoongi. And it’s rude to interrupt, Miso.”

With that, she sweeps away in a flash of finery and Chanel No. 5.

“Wow,” he exhales, shaking his head. “Your mother is -“

“Unbelievable,” hisses Miso, glaring at him before stalking away in the opposite direction from her mother.

“Wait, what?” Momentarily stumped, Yoongi abandons his drink and follows her. She’s fast, though; he doesn’t catch up with her until she’s halfway to the appetiser station, by the giant four foot menus with he five-course meal printed on it. There are fewer people here and she automatically slows down.

“Miso -“ He reaches for her arm but she flinches out of his grasp.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she whispers furiously, her head farting around cautiously.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to - look, you told me to stay away from you and I did, but -“

“When I said stay away, I meant from me and my family. Especially my mother,” she adds with a disgusted look. “Why can’t you just do what I ask, for once?”

“But I didn’t even do anything - she came up to me.”

“So? You couldn’t have walked away?”

“No, that’s rude!” he exclaims, still in the same exchange of whispers, sighing when she scoffs in disbelief. “Look, can you just tell me why -“

“No, I can’t, because it’s none of your business,” she snaps. “Stay away, Yoongi. I mean it.” As though completely unaware of his stomach sinking into his knees, she storms off in a sea of white.

—

Nari states at her reflection in the women’s powder room, the entire area bigger than her living room. She’s starting to realise she has no idea why she’s here or why she’d ever wanted to come in the first place.

Even worse, she has no idea why it occurred to her one second after she told Seokjin that she wanted to go, that he would be bringing his girlfriend along. Far from it being a way to gingerly reconcile, it’s only serving to remind her why she’d chosen to stay away all this time.

She hasn’t seen any of the others for longer than a few seconds. Hoseok already seems on his way to getting wasted, Jimin greeted her warmly but then scooted off, while Taehyung and Jungkook haven’t been spotted at all.

Ironically, the only person she’s actually talked to tonight has been Namjoon, the one person Yoongi advised her dryly to try and avoid. It was one of eight words that her blessed date had uttered to her before disappearing. Namjoon was clearly in a bad way but misery loves company, and on some cathartic level, Nari was glad to be miserable with someone else who was also miserable.

Except Namjoon knew what he was miserable about. Nari had only an inkling that she refused to get into right now, when the stall door behind her opens, and Seulgi appears.

“Oh.” She looks surprised as well, taking a beat before standing one basin away from Nari. “Hi. Haven’t seen you much tonight.”

Nari nods, not looking at her. She wishes Seulgi hated her. She wishes she hated Seulgi, but beyond a nagging indifference, she can’t find anything.

She is not the problem, says a voice in her head. The voice is knowing, and Nari shuts it up instantly.

With a huge effort, she meets Seulgi’s gaze in the mirror. “Yeah, I’ve been… around,” she answers. “Went out to get some air and stuff.”

Seulgi nods. She seems far more guarded than she had during the dinner, much more like their accidental chance meeting at the coffee shop. “Yeah, it’s more crowded than I thought it would be. Seokjin’s been in work-mode all night, talking to all these important people.” She shakes her head and half-chuckles. “It’s kind of boring.”

Tell me about it. “I’m just here for the food,” says Nari wryly.

A smile flashes across Seulgi’s face as she washes her hands. “Me, too. Can’t come soon enough.” She pauses. “You came with Yoongi, right?”

“Sort of.”

“Right. Seokjin told me. I wasn’t sure - I saw you with Namjoon a couple of times so I thought maybe…” She shrugs uncertainly.

There’s a couple of seconds where Nari processes what she means. “Oh. No. God, no.” She shakes her head vigorously. “No, no. Absolutely not.”

Seulgi raises her eyebrows at this emphatic denial. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Sorry. Didn’t mean to assume.”

“That’s okay.”

She nods and begins rummaging in her clutch for lipstick. Nari sneaks a glance at her, wondering wildly for a moment what would happen if Seulgi’s assumption was true. If she and Namjoon did hook up tonight, the amount of alcohol it would take for that to happen, how Seokjin might react…

A moment later, she shakes her head, a little shocked at the road her thoughts took. She sticks her hand out under the faucet and rinses them with rigour, as if hoping to get rid of her momentary insanity.

She and Seulgi exit the powder room together, an awkward distance maintained between them.

“Do you want to join us for a drink?” Seulgi asks, pointing towards the party.

Nari follows the direction of her thumb and sees Seokjin standing with Taehyung and another person she doesn’t recognise, the latter two doing all the talking while Seokjin stands with them, hands in his pockets and comfortably silent.

He doesn’t like these parties at all. There was a time, aeons ago, where Nari would be studying late at night and would suddenly get a text from Seokjin, complaining about the number of people he was around. They would then engage in a game of reverse twenty questions where Seokjin would get a picture taken with a handful of guests, and he and Nari would invent an entire background and personality for them.

That was Before, though. Now, Nari looks at Seokjin and then at Namjoon across the room where he’s speaking to someone else, nodding with a forced smile on his face. It’s a choice between mostly comfortable silence and minor small talk with a friend, and feeling like her heart is getting squeezed further with every breath she takes.

“Maybe later. Thanks.” Nari waits for her to nod before walking towards Namjoon, deliberately not looking in Seokjin’s direction. “Hey,” she says to him, as his companion floats away. “Do you want another drink?”

“Always,” he mutters, and they head to the bar and order two whiskey sours. Namjoon leans against the bar and surveys the room, exhaling. “Can this night end already?”

“I know, right?”

Namjoon frowns slightly. “Didn’t you come here with Yoongi? Where is he?”

“Who knows?” It was annoying her before, but now she’s over it. Mostly. “Last time I saw him he was talking to some lady at the bar.”

“Really? Who?”

“The rich one.”

He chuckles without humour. “That narrows it down,” he agrees wryly as their drinks arrive. They don’t bother moving but as it turns out, they don’t have to. Her aforementioned date appears then, frowning deeply at nothing in particular as he holds a glass with a tiny bit of golden liquid in it. He gives both Namjoon and Nari a cursory nod and finishes the rest of his drink in one go.

Before they can exchange any more words, Seokjin arrives with Hoseok in tow. He meets Nari’s eyes and gives her a tentative smile that she tries to return before averting her gaze. Namjoon’s words have reminded her of Seokjin’s role in this mess of a situation; his monumentally stupid decision of setting her up with someone who obviously didn’t want to be set up.

“Uh… Namjoon?” Seokjin asks delicately, his eyes on his glass now. “Is that your… fourth? Fifth drink?”

Namjoon pauses, his glass halfway to his mouth. “Third. Why?”

He shrugs. “Just. None of us have actually… seen you drinking for a while, so we weren’t sure. But, okay. Third is… not bad. Third is good.”

Nari struggles not to roll her eyes at how transparent all three of the newcomers are, and if she can tell what they’re up to, Namjoon certainly can.

“I’m fine, hyung,” he says at last. “Just letting loose a little bit.”

Yoongi scoffs, so softly that Nari takes a moment to realise. “What have you been the last two hours then?”

“Keeping your date company,” he shoots back calmly. “Good thing I didn’t bring one, turns out.”

On her other side, Yoongi nods, his jaw hard and his tongue in his cheek. “Not by choice, though.”

Namjoon freezes and even Nari winces inwardly. In front of her, Seokjin purses his lips as though bracing himself for something, while Hoseok openly flinches with his entire face.

“Is that what this is?” Namjoon asks after a moment, looking around at them. “You’re… what? Trying to keep tabs on how much I’m drinking because I went through a break-up?”

“Of course not,” says Seokjin the same time that Hoseok says, “Not exactly.”

Namjoon raises his eyebrows. “I’m doing a lot better than him,” he points out, gesturing at Hoseok, whose face is a brilliant red and is gently swaying next to Seokjin.

He looks like a deer caught in headlights at being called out, before his face relaxes slightly. “Ah, don’t feel bad, Namjoon,” he slurs slightly, placing a sympathetic hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. “We’ve all had fights with girlfriends, so we - we get it,” he says, gesturing towards all three of them.

Yoongi scoffs again. “Yeah, except we don’t make it everybody else’s problem.”

Seokjin clicks his tongue. “Yoongi,” he snaps admonishingly, sneaking a hesitant glance at Namjoon.

“I need some air,” he mutters, not looking at Yoongi. He places his glass on the bar in a deliberate motion and makes a show of displaying his empty hands to everyone, before leaving their small circle and striding away.

There’s some truly awkward silence while Nari sips at her drink for lack of anything better to do. Seokjin is still giving Yoongi a pointed look that the latter is avoiding while Hoseok, rocks back and forth on his feet before letting out a loud breath.

“Okayyy,” he says slowly. “So, I’m going to go find Chaeyoung. You know… make sure she’s doing okay and everything.” Nodding at his own words, he walks away in careful, straight steps.

Nari immediately foresees further discomfort, whether or not either Seokjin or Yoongi leave next, so beats them to it. “And I’m going to go…” She looks around hopefully, spotting Seulgi with Jungkook and deciding that even that is a better pair to be with right now. “... somewhere else.”

Yoongi avoids Seokjin’s gaze, interrupted briefly as he watches Nari walk away, before it returns to him.

“You really had to go there? We all know why he is in such a bad mood,” says Seokjin sternly, “but why the hell are you?”

Yoongi can’t bring himself to respond, for the answer is simply too ironic. The image of Miso walking away from him, her face when she’d first seen Sera speak to him, and her stinging rejection of his desire to help her make him want to yell into a dark tunnel.

Seokjin shakes his head in disappointment and walks off, leaving Yoongi alone to stew in his hideous mixture of anger and stress, and now guilt and shame. His feet take the lead, directing him automatically to Namjoon who has stepped outside near the smoking zone, both his hands in his pockets.

Yoongi stops beside him, half-hoping he’ll walk away. But he doesn’t; in fact, it doesn’t even seem like he’s registered the presence of another person.

“It’s a lot of second-hand smoke,” remarks Yoongi weakly. When Namjoon doesn’t respond, he sighs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

Namjoon shakes his head once, slowly, presumably indicating his acknowledgement. Yoongi nods and is about to leave, except now that this topic has been broached, he can’t seem to follow his usual habit of not prying.

“I don’t get it, though,” he says, trying his best to be gentle. “How bad was this fight that she broke up with you? Is it the long-distance thing again? Because you’re on tour? I mean, it’s understandable that -”

“It wasn’t a fight,” interrupts Namjoon, not looking at him. “And she didn’t break up with me. I broke up with her.”

Yoongi frowns, for none of them would have guessed that. “What?” he exclaims, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. “Why?”

Namjoon is quiet for so long that Yoongi thinks he may not answer at all. “Someone broke into her house,” he answers finally, his voice barely more than a whisper.

A ripple of shock flows through Yoongi. “What? Like… by a burglar?”

“No. By fans. Our fans,” he clarifies, clearer now. “My - “ He breaks off, his tongue sharp in his cheek.

Yoongi remembers the few weeks of intense scrutiny and stress in the aftermath of that leaked video. It’s not hard to put two and two together. “Oh, shit,” he mutters, feeling another stab of guilt he wasn’t expecting to feel tonight. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s…” Namjoon trails away, then shrugs. “They didn’t hurt her this time.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Wait… is that why you ended it?” He tries to keep his tone neutral but isn’t sure he’s succeeded.

“I had to. This can’t happen again.” There’s a note of finality in the way he says it, and Yoongi knows he’s not meant to argue with him. He bites his lip as he watches Namjoon, his jaw tight and his eyes frozen straight ahead.

“How - how did she take it?”

He makes a sound of defeat. “She hates me.”

Yoongi tries to picture Kaya - beautiful, mature, dusky-skinned Kaya with adoring eyes when she looks at her taller boyfriend - hating Namjoon, and he decides he can’t. “I’m sure she doesn’t hate you. She’s probably angry, maybe -”

“Oh, she is. But I don’t care.” He does a double take at Yoongi, then looks away. “I mean… of course I care… but she’s safe. She’s angry but she’s safe.” He swallows and continues looking resolutely ahead. “I’ll take any amount of anger from her if it means I’m doing what I can to protect her.”

Something in the way he says it makes Yoongi feel extremely sorry for Namjoon. The logic of his decision aside, it occurs to Yoongi how his twenty-six year old leader probably wrestled with this alone, and suddenly his jab at the bar seems extremely petty.

“Namjoon…” he begins, feeling distinctly like a bad friend and brother, “why didn’t you tell us?”

He shakes his head. “We’re on tour. And it’s not your problem.” He says it matter-of-factly, a moment before he squeezes his eyes shut and presses his thumb and middle finger against them. “But I’m sorry,” he adds. “I haven’t - I haven’t been a good leader.” He sniffs and exhales, not responding to Yoongi’s resolute shake of the head. “I’ll be inside in a minute,” he says, giving Yoongi a momentary glance.

Yoongi nods and grips his shoulder supportively before heading inside. The hall suddenly seems too small, too crowded and too stifling. He needs a cigarette, he decides, and heads to the lobby after checking that it’s devoid of photographers or fans. He passes by the powder rooms on the way to the coat check, when the door opens and Miso steps out, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Oh.” He halts, not knowing what more to say to her. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but apparently thinks better of it, side-stepping him and starting to walk away.

Namjoon’s words play in his mind. I’ll take any amount of anger from her if it means I’m doing what I can to protect her. It’s not the same situation, but it’s enough to spur Yoongi into action.

“Miso -” He waits until she turns around, then grabs her hand and motions towards the coat room. “Just one second,” he insists, immensely relieved when she rolls her eyes and follows him. Closing the door behind her and surrounded by designer shrugs, wraps and summer jackets, Yoongi finally breathes.

“You are impossible,” she states, but there’s less anger and more exasperation in her tone. “I swear, Min Suga, sometimes you act like you have nothing better to do than -”

Yoongi interrupts her. “I don’t care if you’re angry,” he declares.

She looks taken aback for a second at being cut off, but then her eyes narrow. “Excuse me?” she asks icily.

He hesitates; somehow, the words sounded far more impactful and heroic when Namjoon uttered them. “I just mean…” He closes his eyes, gathering his thoughts. He really doesn’t want to go overboard. “I don’t want you… to be angry with me. I’m not trying to make you angry but… Miso, I’m not afraid of your parents, okay?”

Miso sighs. “Yoongi -”

“And if I should be, at least tell me why,” he continues. “Because asking me to forget about it or pretend it doesn’t exist is not working. If you’re afraid of your mother, then -”

“I’m not afraid of her,” she blurts out, sighing and placing her hands on her hips before dropping them to her sides. “God, Min Suga… I can’t believe you’re making me say this. Do you remember that time I told you that my mother was sleeping with my twenty-four year old maths tutor?”

Yoongi frowns in surprise, remembering a cold night outside the Big Hit studio, shared cigarettes and mutual bickering. “Uh… yeah. You said you made that up,” he reminds her.

She gives him a look. “Obviously, you know I didn’t. She was sleeping with him… but I was sleeping with him first.” She doesn’t give Yoongi time to process this statement. “Right before I left for Australia? I was in a… situation with a classmate of mine. But then I ended it with him because I found my mom’s earring in his car and I left the country.”

Yoongi’s throat feels stuck. “What are you -”

“My mother was very young when she got married. My father ignores her. She craves attention, especially when it’s someone else’s.” Miso shakes her head and looks away. “And for some reason, she’s got it in her head that I’m her competition,” she finishes in a low voice.

There’s something she isn’t saying, but it’s also clear from the way she folds her arms across her chest that she isn’t going to. Something tugs at Yoongi’s heart as he watches Miso stare defiantly at something behind him, until her eyes dart up to him and she rolls them.

“Jesus, don’t make me spell this out, Min Suga,” she snaps, dropping her arms. “Just… do what I ask and stay away.” She doesn’t move, though, her hard gaze subsiding.

Yoongi closes his fingers into a fist to make sure his hand stays at his side. “You have nothing to worry about,” he says softly.

Miso’s eyes flicker. “I’m not worried about anything.” But the annoyance and chagrin is fading and unlike every time she’s held his gaze while making some sort of sarcastic point, this time she’s struggling to hold it with the same confidence.

“Good.” His fingers loosen and he lets them. “You shouldn’t be.” He just about registers the statement dawning on her before he steps forward and kisses her, one hand in her hair and the other hovering against her elbow.

He can tell she wasn’t expecting it so he waits for her, waits until the shock wears off and she hesitantly responds, her eyes fluttering shut and her lips slowly increasing in pressure. He opens his mouth against hers only when she does, euphoric that she’s finally, finally telling him something.

She tilts her head up a bit more and places one hand on his chest for support, and Yoongi gently clutches her hair, suddenly resonating so desperately with Namjoon’s words.

The door of the coat room opens then and Miso jerks away from him. Both their heads whip around to see Nari in the doorway, the surprise in her face already fading away when she sees Yoongi. With a quiet scoff, she steps back and pushes the door shut again.

Miso lets out a shaky breath. “Shit. Who was that?”

“Nari. She’s a friend. Don’t worry,” he adds when she turns slowly towards him again. “She won’t tell anyone.”

She nods and Yoongi realises his hand is still in her hair. He retrieves it with care, his heart still racing with what just transpired. Miso bites her lower lip as her gaze falls to the floor, licking her lips before she looks up at him again.

“Min Suga,” she murmurs, pursing her lips slightly. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”

He shrugs, trying to ignore the pit of disappointment in his stomach. “Too late.”

She shakes her head slightly but doesn’t look angry, or sad, or afraid. But there’s something in her eyes, something conflicted that convinces Yoongi not to regret his impulsive act. She reaches up and rubs the side of his lower lip with her thumb and he has to stop himself from taking her wrist. The skin is clear now but the memory of the bruise around it, something he’s now sure he knows the cause of, stays burned in his mind.

“Wait a couple minutes before you leave, okay?” She raises her eyebrows until he eventually nods, watching her as she slips out of the room and closes the door behind her.

Alone, Yoongi muffles a groan into his hands. He obeys her, though, counting down the seconds until he deems it appropriate to leave. On his way back to that wretched party, however, he’s accosted by someone.

“Yoongi!” Kang Sera gives him a pearly smile, still guarded, still assessing. “What a coincidence. I haven’t seen Miso around for a while - would you have any idea where she is?”

Yoongi shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak.

“Oh. Never mind.” She tilts her head slightly and her eyes soften. “I do hope you’ll consider the offer I made, though. It would be so nice to have one of Miso’s friends over for dinner.”

He imagines admitting to Miso that she might be onto something, imagines the smugness that would accompany her response. She would be insufferable at his admission and for some reason, the thought excites him immensely.

“Thank you, ma’am, but that looks a little difficult. Have a good night.” He bows before she can say anything and continues past her, feeling more energetic than he has the whole night, his lips tingling.

—

Jungkook glances backwards at the appetiser station longingly, wishing they weren’t on tour so he wouldn't have to simply watch people eat. As fancy as the menu looks, they still haven’t served dinner and he is famished. Luckily, he’d managed to sneak in a protein bar in his jacket on Taehyung’s advice and in a fortunate turn of events, the coat room is out of the way enough from the main hall that they can break the rules.

He marches in a straight line, head down and careful not to draw any attention. Sneaking around the attendant at the desk, he slides towards the door, only to see it slightly ajar. He moves to open it a little further when he hears a voice inside - crying.

Or not crying, exactly, but there’s a shaking of the voice and some sniffling, and Jungkook feels his insides cringe at the awkwardness of catching someone in a moment of vulnerability. His stomach rumbles again at that moment and he closes his eyes, knowing he needs that protein bar before he snaps and swallows a tempura roll whole in public.

“- everyone else!” The voice cries, the voice high-pitched yet in a clear effort to not be loud. “No, no, that’s not what I’m saying, but you -” The voice, a woman’s pauses, and Jungkook can hear the garbled sound of a response through a phone speaker, sounding far calmer than her.

“But everyone else is here! You didn’t come for the Spring Gala last month and now this - it’s so embarrassing every time!” She pauses again and scoffs. “She’s fine! How does that matter? Is she all you care about?” There’s another pause and a sniffle before the woman responds, this time sounding far more annoyed. “She has some friend here, apparently. Doesn’t seem very impressive,” she adds in a mutter.

Jungkook wonders if he can sneak in anyway. The hunger is killing him and this woman seems so invested in her phone call that she might not notice him at all. Biting his lip and holding his breath, he slips into the dim room and looks around for his jacket. There are rows of clothing, though, and he hasn’t a clue how to locate his own.

“You said that last time, too! Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” There’s the sound of a response again, followed by the unmistakable click of the call ending. The woman sniffles again but stops abruptly. “Is someone there?” she asks sharply.

Jungkook freezes, but before he can devise a way out, the woman appears from behind a row of coats and glares at him through red eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I was just looking for my, um -” He looks around desperately, hoping his black jacket will pop out to him from the sea of other black jackets.

To his surprise, the woman simply shakes her head and dabs at the corner of her eye with a knuckle. She’s beautiful, in an old-fashioned, seventies movie kind of way, her dress dripping with diamonds. Terribly uncomfortable, Jungkook clears his throat.

“Are - are you okay?” he ventures bravely.

She turns away and sniffs again. “Fine. Just alone.”

She says no more and Jungkook takes that as his opportunity to get the hell out of here, protein bar be damned. He can survive a few more minutes before dinner; he’s survived worse.

“Well, I’ll just…” He trails off and makes a beeline for the door when she turns to him again. He halts, trying not to look too panicked at the sight of his exit behind her.

“You look familiar,” she states, frowning slightly. She smells of something vaguely sweet. It’s not perfume; it takes him a moment to realise she smells like Jimin - like cocktails. “Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so,” he answers, although she looks somewhat familiar as well, like one of the many faces on the socialite pages in Seoul’s local newspapers.

She gives him a watery smile. “Pity.” She reaches out and smooths down the collar of his shirt. “Such a handsome boy. I knew so many like you when I was your age. I’m sure you have a girlfriend, though.”

Jungkook shakes his head wordlessly, feeling his ears and neck heat up. She’s really close, this woman. Her nails are painted a calm nude and her cheeks and nose are rosy, probably from the crying.

“Imagine that,” she murmurs, reaching up and kissing him. Jungkook is too shocked to move, freezing in his spot and feeling with staggering clarity her lips against his, the taste of her lipstick and her hand cupping his neck. It takes a few more seconds for it to click and the horror to settle in, and he immediately steps away.

“Sorry, I - I’m not…” Unable to form a full response, Jungkook passes around her and dashes out of the coat room.

—

Nari hurries out of the hotel, welcoming the slight chill of the evening and the fresh air after the pervasive goldenness of the hall. She’ll miss the dinner but nothing is worth staying another second at the most boring party she’s ever been to.

“Nari!”

She ignores Seokjin and continues on her way, eager to make it past the gate to where Jason will pick her up. She hears him shout her name again but doesn’t turn until she hears his footsteps right behind her and he suddenly comes into view.

“You’re leaving?” He sounds slightly breathless. “Already?”

“Seokjin, this has been a crappy night and I really don’t want to do this with you, okay?” she states and tries to skirt around him but he stops her.

“What? What did I do?” he asks, looking genuinely baffled. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all night but you’ve been avoiding me ever since you got here. Then I thought I should probably leave you alone because I saw you with Namjoon and then Yoongi for a little while -”

“You want to know what you did?” Nari feels as though she might burst. “How about setting me up on a date without asking me?”

Seokjin frowns in bewilderment. “Who are you - wait, are you talking about Yoongi?”

“How about setting me up on the worst date of my life, with someone who couldn’t even be bothered to talk to me all night?” she continues, ignoring him because now that she’s begun, she can’t seem to stop. “And then there’s Namjoon, who seems borderline suicidal, while Yoongi is making out with some girl in a coat closet and Hoseok seems to be on the verge of passing out while you’re -”

“Okay, wait, wait - hold on!” He interrupts her, looking thoroughly confused. He doesn’t speak until Nari falls silent. “Who was Yoongi kissing?” Nari turns to leave in a huff but Seokjin grabs her arm again. “And also… I’m confused. I thought you liked Yoongi.”

“I do like Yoongi. He’s a good guy - but a terrible date,” she informs him. “And I can’t believe you’d set me up with him! It’s like you don’t know anything about me - when have he and I ever had anything in common?”

“But -” Seokjin shakes his head. “Nari, I didn’t set you up. You said you wanted to go and he had an extra ticket, so I suggested he check with you. That’s all.”

Nari swallows, her heartbeat loud in her ears. “Yeah… he checked with me and asked me to go with him?”

“On a date?” Seokjin doesn’t look convinced. “Did he actually say it was a date?”

“Yes, he - oh, my God. He didn’t.” She freezes and covers her mouth with her hands. “Oh, my God.” Did she just imagine a date? She feels light-headed, suddenly reminded that she hasn’t slept properly in thirty hours. Her stomach crawls in embarrassment and she squeezes her eyes shut before turning around on the spot and starting to walk away in bigger steps.

“No. No way.” Seokjin darts in front of her again. “You don’t get to be mad at me and yell at me for something I didn’t even do.”

“Oh, believe me, I know this was all me, okay?” She shudders, unable to meet his eyes out of sheer humiliation. “I’m leaving. We’re on the same page.”

“No, we aren’t. I don’t want you to leave.”

“Tough. Move, Seokjin.”

“Nari -” He grabs her shoulders for one moment, stopping her in her tracks before releasing her. “You are mad at me. You’re mad at me about something but you don’t want to talk about it, so you’re just looking for other reasons to be mad at me, just so you can be mad at me. But I’m done,” he declares, and she hasn’t seen him look this serious in a long time. “I’m done being your punching bag and I’m done letting you chew me out until you tell me what’s actually bothering you.”

Her heart races uncomfortably. “Seokjin… I’m sorry I blamed you, okay? But I… nothing’s bothering me. I just want to leave.”

“Bullshit.” He fixes her with a look, his jaw sharp and his eyebrows slanted. “For heaven’s sake, Nari. Seventeen years. We’ve been friends for seventeen years - what is so bad that you can’t tell me?”

“It’s not… bad.”

“Then why can’t you tell me?”

“Because you didn’t do anything wrong!” she blurts out, frustrated. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she repeats. “But I’m mad at you anyway, which means this is my problem. I can’t tell you because… because you can’t do anything about it.”

Seokjin swallows. “Tell me anyway,” he says quietly.

There’s a loaded silence between them and Nari knows it’s because they’ve reached the crux of the issue, the thing they’ve been avoiding all this time.

But maybe this is it. Maybe this is the time. It would make a mess of everything, but maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it would become easier if she put it into words, if she took a risk and stepped over the line once in her life.

Taking a step forward, she takes a deep breath. Her hands go up to his face, thumbs on his cheekbones, only an inch above her own. She bravely meets his gaze. He isn’t stopping her, or stepping away. His eyes flicker, and it’s anticipation. Nari glances from his eyes to his mouth, pink and plush, and touches it with her thumb before moving closer.

Do it. Every cell in her body wants to do it, to take the plunge and deal with whatever comes out of it. But even as she talks herself into it, her heart sinks because she knows, she knows that despite what she feels, it will make no difference if she drags him down with her, if she is the reason he becomes a cheater. So, she drops her hands from his face and steps back, feeling her heart bang against her ribcage painfully.

“Nari - ”

“I wish,” she says, looking at the ground as she searches her heart for the moment it all went wrong. “I wish… that after you kissed me at Hyeri’s house… I wish I hadn’t left.”

The last word lingers in the night. “So stay now,” he murmurs, almost pleadingly.

But Nari shakes her head. “It’s not really the same thing. It’s fine, Seokjin. Really.” She takes a deep breath. “I need to sleep anyway.”

Seokjin looks like he wants to argue, but doesn’t. “How are you getting home?”

“A friend is picking me up.” She doesn’t mention a name but something in how he nods makes her quite certain that he knows she means Jason. “I’ll just…” She trails off when she sees someone else behind him. “Jungkook?”

Seokjin frowns and turns around and they both see Jungkook ambling out of the hotel, looking dazed. “Oi, Jungkook!” Seokjin exclaims when he doesn’t answer.

Jungkook’s head snaps up, and he looks slightly unfocused. “Hey,” he mutters, trudging over to them.

“Are you okay?” Nari asks, observing his quiet demeanour.

He nods immediately. “Yeah, yeah. Just… not feeling well.”

He’s clearly lying, but Nari doesn’t pry. “Okay. I’ll drop you home in that case. Come on.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen and he nods gratefully. “Yes, please.” He looks over at Seokjin. “I already told Namjoon hyung and he said we don’t have any pictures left…”

“Go,” agrees Seokjin, glancing at Nari. “And… take care.”

Nari doesn’t move for a moment, sharing a look with Seokjin before following Jungkook out of the gate.

—

“Careful, careful…”

Chaeyoung takes careful, deliberate steps as she helps Hoseok up the steps. Her heels dangle from one hand and his shoes dangle from one of his, from when he’d insisted on taking them off because he didn’t believe that she should be the only one barefoot.

“That’s not what it means to be a date,” he’d slurred as they crossed the street to her apartment building a few minutes ago.

Chaeyoung had given up on trying to make him put them on, focusing instead on ensuring that his phone, house keys and car keys were with her, along with her own belongings, and getting him into her apartment in one piece.

“I still don’t understand why you kept drinking,” she says admonishingly as they begin ascending the last flight of stairs. “Just because one guy says he won drinking games in college doesn’t mean you make it your mission to compete with him. Especially when you’re clearly out of your depth.”

“Hey, now wait a minute,” he replies, his words flowing into each other. “I didn’t do it for fun. I did it for a good reason.”

“Which is?”

“That he was being an obnoxious jerk.”

Chaeyoung rolls her eyes as they reach her doorstep. Fumbling a little with her keys, she manages to open the door and drag Hoseok inside, who stumbles into her tiny living room and flops onto the couch.

“Is it just me or is it sweltering?” he asks, taking off his jacket and groaning.

“It’s just you,” she confirms, chucking her heels to the corner and heading inside to the kitchen. “Don’t move,” she instructs him on her way out. “I’m going to get you some water.”

Hoseok smiles dreamily in acknowledgement. “Careful, caterpillar. You’re starting to sound like an adult.” But his tone is filled with fondness and endearment, enough that Chaeyoung is willing to overlook the ancient nickname.

“I am an adult,” she informs him, returning with a bottle of water and dropping it softly into his lap. He leans back and grins up at her, cheeks red and hair ruffled. “In fact, after tonight, I think I’m the adult here,” she points out, sitting down next to him. “Drink.”

He obeys without fuss, downing almost half the bottle before emerging breathlessly. “Wow, that was…” He glances at the bottle and squints “... cold.”

“It’s summer.”

“Thanks.” He sighs hugely. “Okay, I’m going to take off.”

“Wait, what?”

But Hoseok is already standing before he halts, swaying slightly before stumbling into Chaeyoung when she stands up to stop him.

“You are wasted, Hoseok,” she reminds him, pushing against him to make him sit back down. “Unless you can get one of your friends to come pick you up, you’re not going anywhere. I didn’t drive your gigantic car all the way here just for you to crash it into a lamp post.”

He pouts. “Buzzkill.”

Chaeyoung sticks her tongue out at him but is relieved when he doesn’t argue further. “You should lie down or something, oppa,” she tells him.

To her surprise, he nods, looking drained and on the verge of passing out. “I should,” he agrees weakly.

“Come on,” she says, standing up and helping him up. She steers him to her bedroom, glad he’s taken off his shoes and jacket already. “Why don’t you lie down and I’ll see if -” She breaks off when he falls on the bed onto his stomach, groaning.

Chaeyoung purses her lips in sympathy. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I have any clothes that will fit you.”

“Issokay,” he mumbles into the pillow, his eyes already fluttering shut before he opens them with some effort. “Don’t you want to sleep, too?”

“Yeah, I will.” She pauses, taking a moment to register how absurd this would be to ten year old Chaeyoung; taking care of Hoseok, the love of her life, because he got drunk trying to keep up with every person she talked to tonight. “Hoseok,” she says after a moment, her own voice sounding slightly different. “I’m going to get you the rest of that water and one of those Pop Tarts you brought me back from America. You shouldn’t sleep on an empty stomach. Okay?”

He cracks a smile, his eyes still closed. “You smell nice.”

Chaeyoung doesn’t bother suppressing her smile at that. When she returns from the kitchen, Hoseok is asleep.

—

Hoseok wakes up the next morning and immediately wishes he was asleep again. His head pounds with a vengeance and his stomach feels bloated and empty at the same time. As soon as he thinks it, he feels the bile in his throat and immediately scrambles out of the room and into the hallway bathroom, and throws up all the contents in his stomach.

Ten minutes later, after puking his guts out and lying down with his forehead pressed to the cool tiles, he emerges from the bathroom and shuffles into the kitchen and dining area. Chaeyoung is scrambling eggs and the smell of fresh coffee wafts from the machine in the corner.

“Wow,” she comments, looking up with the spatula in her hand. “You look like hell, Hoseok.”

He responds noncommittally and sits at the small table, dropping his head onto his arms. He remembers two things right then: the first, that he has dance practice starting in exactly one hour, and the second,

“Would you like some eggs?” she asks cheerily. “There’s coffee, too.”

“How are you not drunk?” he demands, raising his head and wincing.

She glances back at him with a frown. “Because I didn’t drink enough for a whole army? I was able to come home, change, drink water, scroll through Instagram for a while and wake up after a nice sleep.”

Hoseok is about to remark that he must have been dead to the world to not notice her awake when he catches a glimpse of the sofa. “Wait,” he says slowly, taking in the pillow and folded covers. “You slept on the sofa?”

Chaeyoung shrugs. “Yeah. Why?”

“But -” His shoulders fall. “I didn’t mean to kick you out of your own room. You could’ve slept there, too - there was enough room.”

“Yeah, I thought about it, but I didn’t want it to be accidentally weird this morning,” she reasons calmly, bringing him a mug of black coffee with ice floating in it. “And the sofa is totally comfortable. So don’t worry about it.”

“But -”

“Eggs?”

He opens his mouth to continue arguing but stops. “Yes, please,” he mutters sheepishly. “Thanks, Chae. Really. I owe you one.”

“Even after the braces and schnapps thing?”

“Especially after that.”

She grins and places a plate of toast and scrambled eggs before him. “Eat. You’ll need the energy. Especially if you were serious about the whole Harry Potter marathon thing. Actually,” she adds, frowning, “don’t you have dance practice?”

“Um -” It’s a simple question but he can’t seem to answer it. “Why?”

“I distinctly remember you mentioning it to me in the car. I definitely remember you warning Namjoon not to be late or you’d throw a shoe at him,” she adds dryly. “If it helps, he promised he would do his best to be on time.”

“Huh.” The schedule is on his phone; Hoseok suddenly remembers he hasn’t seen it at all this morning.

“Your phone is on the centre table,” she supplies, pre-empting his question when a soft ding sounds. “Oh, that’s the Pop Tarts.” Both of them leave the table in opposite directions.

Hoseok checks his messages and then his calendar. Yep, dance practice in forty-five minutes. He bites his lip; while he is feeling remarkably better than he had when he’d woken up this morning, his head still feels a bit heavy and his throat feels dry as sawdust, despite the coffee.

Just then, his phone pings.

Jimin [8:15] Leaving in 5. Suga hyung, Namjoon and Jungkook are already in the building. What’s your ETA?

It’s a good question. If he’s planning to drive his car home, shower, change and then leave, he might make it on time by the skin of his teeth.

“Everything okay?” Chaeyoung asks from the dining table, legs long and lean in her cotton shorts as she leans slightly over the table and places the Pop Tarts in the centre.

Then there’s the alternative. Chaeyoung’s sofa, Chaeyoung’s food, Chaeyoung’s Harry Potter marathon. He wonders how he would ever justify it to himself when he realises he already has.

Hobi [8:18] Threw up this morning. Might have food poisoning. I’ll try to come in after lunch. Sorry.

Sending it, he slides the phone into his pocket and tugs open the collar of his dress shirt. “No practice,” he says as he returns to the table. He returns Chaeyoung’s surprised expression with a shrug. “This is good toast, by the way.”

She beams, taking a bite of her own. “Thanks.”

Hoseok grins back, feeling his stomach do a backflip. “Now,” he says, dusting the crumbs off his hands, “when are we starting this marathon?”

—

#seokjin x oc #seokjin fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x oc #hoseok x oc #hoseok fanfic #thebtswritersclub #bangtanwhq #micdropnet #k-vanity #houseofddaeng #wkcnet #hyunglinenetwork #bts jin fanfic #bts suga fanfic #bts suga angst #bts jin angst #bts jhope fanfic

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delicate-moon-princess · 2 years

Text

The Night of Many Firsts

Summary: You’ve been seeing Sy for the past few months. He asks you to stay the night at his place for the first time. You decide to take him up on his offer, not knowing that tonight you will be tackling a lot of firsts in your relationship.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Shy!Insecure!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smutty content, groping, fingering (f receiving), insecure thoughts, bad self image, panic attacks, hinted plus size reader, hinted age gap, mention of male masturbation, bad writing of southern accent, excessive use of pet names- Let me know if I forgot anything!

Word Count: 11.1k

Any typos are my own.

A/N: So I’ve been working on this for about a month. It took me a long time to get the fine tweaking done. I haven’t written anything for a very long time so I’m most likely very rusty. I'm a bit nervous, to be honest. This is also my first fanfic. Admittedly, this is a very self indulgent fic. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it!

“No funny business, darlin’.” Sy said to you over the phone and the Southern drawl in his voice made you tremble. “Promise. Just dinner, a movie, then bed. If ya still wanna go home after the movie, I’ll drive ya.”

He had asked you to stay the night for the first time. This was big, so you did your best to be nonchalant.

“Really?” Finally, you spoke up, your brows raised in skepticism. Your tone, on the other hand, was lighthearted.

A faint smile made its way onto your lips. You seldom left Sy’s company without a few heart-racing embraces. It wasn’t hard to imagine all the sly kisses and stroking that would take place if you agreed to spend the night.

You didn’t mind, however, as his touch always left you wanting more. And he had been giving you more. The goodnight kisses you shared with him after each of your dates had become more intense.

“I swear to it.” He said, his voice tinged with mischief. “I would never tarnish your purity like that, sugar.” He purred into the phone.

Pink flooded your cheeks as you grinned shyly, rolling your eyes at his teasing comment. You paused for a second, asking yourself if you thought you could really do it. Could you really stay at Sy’s house for the night, the one man you’ve ever really, really liked?

“I’d love to, Sy.” You whispered, fearing if you spoke any louder your voice would shake. Excitement and nervousness made your skin prickle. You rubbed your one hand on your pants, the other held the phone to your ear.

“Good. Pack a bag, pumpkin, I‘ll pick you up in an hour.” He bid you goodbye before you could change your mind.

Your eyes widened. An hour?! That didn’t give you nearly enough time for you to prepare yourself for him and also pack a bag. After you tossed your phone on the bed, you hurried to take a shower where you exfoliated, scrubbed and rinsed every part of your body thoroughly. You managed to shave your legs and pits without any knicks in under five minutes. Honestly, you're not sure how you did it.

The thin nestle of curls on your pubic area taunted you. Your eyes narrowed. There wasn’t enough time to carefully and completely shave your mound, you dreaded all the bumps and cuts you would receive if you tried to do it quickly. So you settled on trimming it.

You chose a light makeup look after you finished showering. It only took you 15 minutes to apply a light coat of foundation, fill in your brows, and swipe some mascara on each pair of your eyelashes.

You were panting as you emerged from your bathroom in a robe. A half hour had already passed after you showered and put on makeup. God dammit. You still had to determine your hairstyle and your clothes. Not to mention, figure out what you were going to pack for your first night at Sy’s place.

What if tonight was the night you two sleep together? The notion entered your brain abruptly as you were pulling your hair back into a casual style that hopefully didn’t make you look too bummy. You stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment, wondering if you were ready to give in to Sy’s advances and let him take your virginity.

You rubbed your temples as a dozen thoughts swarmed your head at once, each laced with insecurity. What if you weren’t any good and he didn’t like you? What if you chickened out and ruined what was supposed to be a beautiful moment by being too afraid to enjoy it?

All you could do was try to reassure yourself that Sy had been extremely gentle with you and he wouldn’t force anything on you. He would never do that to you. You had to admit that his soft demeanor had been slowly chipping away at the walls you built around yourself

Sy was well aware of your inexperience. Not just in sex, but just being touched in general. It had taken him three dates just to be able to hug you goodnight. It took him another three to take your first kiss. Your boundaries were always respected by him. He told you that you both could take things as slow as you want.

The thing you liked about him was that he had a way of making you want to test your limits. Maybe it was the way he gently praised you everytime you allowed him to touch you.

You fondly remembered the last time the two of you lost yourselves in a heated embrace. When you let him kiss just below your jaw, he cooed, “So sweet, sugar plum.”

“Atta girl…” He murmured when you let yourself be drawn into his arms.

“There she is, that’s my lil girl.” He declared with pride when his hands were allowed to explore the curves of your hips and sides. He might have even sneaked in a few firm squeezes of your ass.

That had made you gasp. It left you in a paradox. You always thought your ass looked weird. However, Sy’s possessive grip on it had led you to believe otherwise. For a brief moment, you thought you must have the behind of a goddess if a man like Sy was so enamored by it.

This thought soon disappeared when you looked at your butt in the mirror again. It did look weird. Why did he find it so appealing?

The passionate moments between you and Sy never went past heated kisses that took your breath away and the sensual ass grabs. You always stopped him before he could go further. No matter how hard you tried to push yourself past your fears, they always managed to well up inside your chest. It turned your mood sour, and Sy would sense it.

He always would pull back immediately, kissing you tenderly one final time. Then he would tell you how proud he was of you, how good you were for him. It gave you a sense of security. He always managed to put a smile back on your face before he would go back to normal, acting as if he wasn’t just trying to evade every crevice in your mouth with his tongue.

So what made tonight feel different? Was it the night you were going to forget your fears and sleep with Sy? Maybe this was just a case of wishful thinking. Or perhaps tonight was really the night.

You shook your head to get rid of all the intrusive thoughts. Tonight, you were going to enjoy Sy’s company. If you two end up taking it all the way, so be it.

Finally, you decided on an outfit that is presentable but still comfortable. You rummaged through your closet for your overnight bag. Another thought entered your brain after you began to pack- What were you going to wear to bed?

He knocked exactly when he told you he would. The Captain was always on time. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been parked outside your place for the past few minutes.

You smiled when you imagined him in his truck, patiently waiting for you to get ready. What did he do to entertain himself? Scroll on his phone, listen to music, perhaps take a short nap? He always looked so tired.

“I gave you a key, y’know,” You said as you opened the door after taking a deep breath. You smiled at him, your eyes sparkling at him.

Somehow the sight of him always made your heart skip a beat.

He seemed just as excited to see you. His gaze swept up and down your body twice, before returning back to your face. When he grinned, his bearded cheeks lifted, and you swear you saw a blush appear beneath the fur on his face.

“I know that, darlin’.” His voice had taken on a deeper tone, almost as if he was turned on.

“It holds its own little place on my key ring. But I like it when you let me in. Don’t wanna invade your privacy or nothin’, doll. I’ll use it only for emergencies. Besides, the sight of you when you open that door is… soul-moving.”

His compliment made you get all bashful, but it also caused your shoulders to relax slightly. Sy did that to you; got you all flustered while still making you yearn for more of his affection. His playful growl made you giggle as he hugged you tightly.

The feel of his whiskers against your neck as he nuzzled your jaw made you want to melt in his arms completely. You looked at him as he drew back, biting your lower lip when his big hand came up to cup your cheek tenderly. Leaning into his hand, you closed your eyes and smiled at the feeling of his warm palm against your flesh.

“As much as I like to see you all flustered, lil’ darlin’, I do enjoy it more when you show me that purty smile of yours.” He murmured to you, his hands resting safely on your waist though you knew he wanted to slip them lower and grab a handful of your bottom.

You gazed at him in disbelief. How could someone as perfect as him even want to be in the same room as someone like you? This made you gulp, scared he will eventually get sick of you like everyone else.

To rid those nasty thoughts, you kissed him. You pressed your lips against his, bringing your hands up to cup his face. He melted against you. Sy’s eyes were still closed when you pulled away, a dopey grin in his expression.

“My, my gorgeous… what did I do to deserve such a treat?” He teased you lightly, his hands slipped to the middle of your back.

“Nothing… just felt like kissing you.” You blushed and smiled back.

Sy loved it when you kissed him. Of course you two engaged in a lot of lip-locking, but more often than not he was the one doing the kissing. However, sometimes you got brave and smashed your lips to his. Usually either an innocent kiss hello or goodbye. It never failed to make the army captain swoon whenever he saw you leaning in for a little “mouth to mouth action” as he put it.

“Damn. You’re gonna kill me, woman.” He growled, leaning in for another kiss while your hearts were still racing.

He sucked on your lower lip, which caused you to gasp softly. Your hands came up to fist the fabric of his shirt. You needed something to hold onto. You had to brace yourself because Sy was blowing your mind with his lips.

Too soon, he pulled away.

“Ready to go, sugar?” He asked you.

You managed to nod in your daze, reaching to grab your bag you set behind your front door. Sy grabbed it from you immediately, even though it wasn’t heavy. His other hand took yours and he led you to his truck. He made sure you were buckled after helping you up inside the cab. Then, he drove you both to his place.

You had been to Sy’s house plenty of times, usually for date nights at his place. He had always taken you home afterwards. As you approached his house, your stomach started to twist like it was your first time there. You weren’t going to be leaving after dinner. You would eventually be laying in the same bed with him, trying to fall asleep. What if you couldn’t get to sleep? What if you snored?

Sy’s place was a perfect blend of rustic and modern. Very masculine, to say the least. The exterior was a Craftsman style bungalow with a large porch attached to the front. You knew Sy liked to spend time sitting on his porch swing every morning and night, just taking in the fresh air.

His home was humble, but not run down at all. He took pride in keeping his yard clean and kept, as well as the rest of the house. Part of you wondered why he chose to reside in such a small dwelling. Sy was a co-owner of a local construction company, you knew he was doing well for himself.

Somehow though, the fact that he lived in such a cozy home had made you become less anxious at his place. When you had walked in the first time, you were greeted with a space that looked lived in. The majority of the walls were painted white, but his furniture and decor was a mixture of warm tones with refreshing hints of navy blue.

As the two of you climbed the steps to the front stoop, Sy stopped to wave at the old widow who lived next door to him.

“Evenin’, Ms. Donovan. I already put your trash can out by the curb. I also cleaned them gutters for you.” He nodded, holding your hand still.

“Oh, thank you, handsome. How kind of you.” She flirted with him. This made you giggle softly when Sy turned slightly pink.

Ms. Donovan looked at you. The woman’s brown eyes raked over your form, then landed on your intertwined hands. Her wrinkly lips pulled back in a knowing smirk.

“Well, well sweetheart. Who’s thi-” She started to tease Sy but was cut off by his booming voice.

“Well, Ms. Donovan, we better get goin’ now. Both of us gotta be up real early an’ all. We should get some shut eye.” He interrupted, tugging on your hand as he tried to head to his front door.

The old woman laughed out loud, turning away from the fence that divides their property.

“Yes, yes. I may be old but I can still get the hint. You two go have fun.” She waved her hand in a playful, nonchalant gesture.

You watched as she started to walk away on her walker. The woman’s bold words caught you off guard. You were shocked, but you also really wanted to laugh. Sy’s tugging on your hand increased in force, you could tell he was frantic to get you in the house.

You relished this moment. It was the first time Sy had ever appeared absolutely embarrassed. Your Sy, who was always so fearless, blunt, confident, and collected was turning redder than a schoolboy that was caught sneaking sweets. Sweat formed on his brow as the summer heat boiled onto his skin.

“Oh and don’t worry about being loud… I sure won't complain about the noise.” She mentioned off-handedly, as if she was unaware of how suggestive her words were.

“Thank you, Ms. Donovan!” Sy tried to speak over her, desperately tugging on your arm now as you finally started to follow with a soft snicker.

Though the whole encounter had you turning red if you were being honest.

Sy dropped the hand holding yours to dig for his keys, still holding your bag in the other. He found them, almost dropping them twice as he hurriedly tried to unlock the door. The whole time you were watching him in amusement. You managed to hide your delight though.

He finally opened the door, stepped inside and yanked you in behind him. He whipped around to face you after tossing your bag on the cedar wood flooring that covers the entrance of his house. Making sure you were out of the way of the door, he leaned in closer to slam it right behind you.

For a very quick moment, he had you pinned to the door. The two of you simply looked at each other, your faces so close that you breathed the same air. Sy blinked and reluctantly pulled away.

“I know that seemed rude of me, darlin’. Normally, I would’ve walked her to her door and made sure she got settled in alright. But I know if I would’ve let her antagonize you we would’ve never gotten some… alone time.” He said the last words hesitantly, not wanting you to take them the wrong way.

“She’s a very… Peculiar woman.” You nodded softly, biting back a smile. “She seemed very infatuated with you though… should I be jealous?”

Sy blinked at your frown, shaking his head frantically, “W-What? No, sugar, no.”

You giggled finally, the accusatory look in your eyes dropping. “I’m kidding, Sy.”

He visibly relaxed, his big shoulders falling as he let out a deep breath. Looking down sheepishly, he chuckled once. As embarrassed as he was, he was obviously loving that this was the first time you were comfortable enough to jest with him.

Deciding to be brave again, your hands slowly ran up his arms. The feel of his flesh under your palms made you want to moan. He seemed to have a permanent tan from his time in the desert. Not only that, but his skin always seems to be warm. As if he carried some of the blistering heat he absorbed from those days in the sandy flatlands back with him when he returned from the war.

Sy gazed at you curiously, but you weren’t looking at him. Your eyes followed your hands as they smoothed up his biceps, finally coming to rest on his shoulders. When you finally gazed at him again, he had a look of amazement plastered on his face. You knew he was probably loving this moment, as it was the longest your touch has ever lingered on him.

You and Sy were almost completely different kinds of people. He was calm, you were nervous. He was outgoing and you were too shy for your own good. He positively loved physical affection, you were still getting used to it.

There had been little touching from you since the very beginning. Sy was usually the one leading you into an embrace. He was usually the one who wanted to be touching you in some way whenever you were together. He never seemed to mind though. Maybe because he knew how timid you were.

However, your shy nature seemed to not be in control of you for the very first time. First, you had kissed him on your doorstep, now your hands were wandering over his shoulders and neck. Sy bit his lip when your hand cupped the back of his nape, massaging the tense muscles there.

“Bug, listen, I know you’re nervous about tonight…” He trailed off when you kissed him again.

This earned you a melting army captain in your arms. Good, you wanted him to relax. His nerves would do nothing to help your own. Your lips smacked as you pulled away.

“Whatever happens… happens.” You shrugged nonchalantly, but you inhaled a quick breath to keep your wits about you. You kissed him again, adding passion to this one.

“I trust you, Sy.” You whispered against his lips.

It seemed like he finally couldn’t take it anymore; he had to touch you. A muted growl rumbled up from his chest, the sound made your eyes widen. He kissed you deeply, his hands coming up to grip your waist. Pushing you back gently against the door, Sy dominated your mouth with his.

You were panting by now and your hands were swiping over his buzz cut to feel the short spiky hairs against your palms. He licked at your tongue and the two of you just revealed the taste of each other for a few more intense moments before a sharp bark rang through the air.

The both of you pulled away quickly. Your heads turned to look behind Sy where Aika stood wagging her tail and panting softly. Her old eyes took in the sight of you, immediately getting as excited as her aged body would let her.

Sy pulled away from you, both of your hearts slowed at the sight of his old German shepherd. He had to sigh and smile lightly, shaking his head at the dog.

“Great timing, old lady.” He murmured affectionately. He bent down to pet her side gently.

“Hi, girl.” Your cheeks were still flushed but you relaxed as you gave Aika’s ears a good scratch.

“You missed Mama, huh girl? You want her to visit more often.” He spoke to Aika, but you knew his words were directed at you.

You and Aika had just clicked from the first time you met each other. This had amazed Sy. He told you his dog had never really been interested in anyone he brought over. Apparently, she usually just layed on one of her many orthopedic dog beds Sy had bought for her whenever he had guests over.

It was often Sy had to fight for your affection when it came to Aika. He didn’t really mind though, he liked to see both of his girls getting along. However, today Sy was yearning to be alone with you.

“Dinner, girl. Time for dinner.” He gently patted the dog’s rump, speaking her favorite word.

This made Aika turn to him, panting louder as she tried to dance on her front paws.

“Don’t get too excited now, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” He tried to keep his voice stern, but the sight of his old, furry friend getting amped up for her meal made him smile. Sy reached down to pet her ears.

You giggled as he walked towards the kitchen with his loyal pup following. He walked a little slower so she could catch up. He turned his head to talk to you.

“Go pick a movie, lil bitty. I’ll go and order us somethin’ for dinner. Promise you’ll like it.” He winked, knowing how picky of an eater you were.

You went upstairs to the loft den where his large TV was. Sy always liked to throw parties up here, all of which you had been formally invited to. Though, you never accepted. You were nervous enough around Sy. You couldn’t even imagine how anxious you would have been around both Sy and his friends. So, you always had some excuse made up as to why you couldn’t go. Each time you lied to him about your plans, it made you feel awful. However, you just couldn't push yourself that far out of your comfort zone.

Sy had never taken your lame excuses to heart, always telling you that he understood and that if you changed your mind he could always come get you. “I don't prefer you driving at night, baby girl.” He told you gently once. He had been planning on having a movie night with some friends and you were the first he invited.

Then, he told you that he would always have his phone on him, so if you needed anything you just had to call. This made you feel even more guilty. Could Sy even let loose at those parties if he had to worry about you the entire time?

Trying to forget those bad memories, you made yourself more comfortable and started to scroll through movies to watch. What was good to watch? Something that wouldn’t kill the mood. A rom-com?

You grimaced at the thought, those movies were always so cheesy and so… suggestive. You were nervous as is, you didn’t want to have to sit through a two hour film where basically all the characters wanted to do was bang.

As you’re settling on a PG-13 comedy, you heard Sy climbing the stairs to the den. You turned to see him enter the doorway, a playful grin on his face. He seemed proud of himself.

“I ordered from Sunnie’s.” He told you with a smirk, crossing his arms proudly as he leaned against the doorway.

“You didn’t.” A grin broke out on your face.

Sunnie’s Diner was the place Sy took you on your first date. He knew the owner’s somehow and they gave you the best booth in the house. He had chosen it because it was nice and quiet, but not silent either. The aura had been enough to calm you slightly, which he saw as he later admitted that he was glad he chose the perfect place. The two of you had a wonderful night, the food was phenomenal.

The two of you made an unspoken pact; that you would save Sunnie’s Diner for special occasions. It was as if you didn’t want to ruin the beautiful memory by indulging in it too often. What if you lost a taste for the food that soothed both your burning souls that night? No, Sunnie’s Diner meant something was going to go down. You licked your lips nervously after a moment.

“What’s the occasion?” You finally found your voice. Sy licked his lips too.

“I don't know, darlin’…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. A pearly white grin broke out on his face.

You giggled shyly, rubbing your palms on your leggings. The two of you just stared at each other for a moment, he didn’t move from the doorway and you continued to turn around to look at him as he stood behind the couch.

“I picked out a movie. Do you want to start watching it while we wait for the food?” You nodded slowly to the spot beside you on the couch.

The bull of a man needed no further permission. In the blink of an eye, he plopped down on the sofa next to you. He draped his arm over the back of the couch.

“What we watchin’, sweetie pie?” He asked you casually, looking ahead at the TV where the title screen of the movie you picked was.

You let him read the title and summary before you pressed play. The two of you were encased in silence for a moment as the movie began. Sy used the comfortable stillness between you to slip his arm from the back of the couch, laying it across your shoulders.

The action made you relax. You turned your head and gave him a beam. After scooting closer, you laid your head on his shoulder. Sy was happy with this reaction as he relaxed too, kicking his feet up on the ottoman as you curled up next to him. His lips pressed against the top of your head. Sy was very much a cuddler. You were starting to become one too.

After the food was gone, the styrofoam boxes all spread out on the coffee table, you and Sy cuddled much closer. He laid on the sofa on his back and you were laying on top of him. The both of you were very comfortable.

His thick pectoral muscles were the perfect pillow as you laid your head on his chest. His scent invaded your senses, he put on your favorite cologne. The smell was mouthwatering. A perfect combination of campfire and whiskey, with undertones of gunpowder. So heedy and masculine. Just like him.

That mixed with his natural musk was enough to make you forget the fact that your body was laying completely on top of his. Any other time you would have been worried about crushing him. Not this time, however. This time, you were only worried about losing yourself in the scent of the man laying below you.

Sy didn’t seem to be bothered by your weight on top of him. In fact it had been his idea. When he had whispered that he just wanted to feel your body on top of his, it made you flush and agree. So he was a very happy man, with his fingers playing with your hair.

Eventually when the movie ended, you yawned under your breath. Sy smiled against your hair.

“Tired, darlin?” He asked you gently.

“Just a little…” You trailed off as you sat up, watching Sy follow suit.

What now? Dinner was finished and so was the movie. It was still a little too early to go to sleep. Your heart began to beat a little faster. Were the two of you finally going to tackle one of your greatest fears? The color drained out of your face and your eyes fell down to your lap.

Sy watched you begin to fidget, quickly trying to defuse the situation, “We could go to bed if you want, sugar. If you’re tired…”

“I’m not so sleepy anymore….” You murmured almost to yourself.

It was true. Whatever tiredness you felt before was gone. Your skin was beginning to get sweaty. Anxiety rested in the pit of your stomach like an anvil. Yet despite this, you could feel the dull throbbing begin in your core as you began to imagine what Sy would feel like in your arms with his bare skin pressed to yours. You wanted him so bad…

The internal battle with your arousal and your insecurities was interrupted by Sy pulling you into his arms. His embrace was nothing but loving. Not sensual, or suggestive. Him holding you brought you nothing but comfort. Your mouth opened slightly when you felt his lips against your forehead. He rested them there for a moment, like he was trying to kiss those bad thoughts away.

He pulled away to look at you, touching your cheek. The blue in his eyes reflected pure kindness and admiration for you. His expression left you speechless. You never thought anyone would ever look at you like that.

“Whatever you want to do, sweetie pie. Your wish is my command. We could watch another movie or somethin’, I’ll let you pick again… or I can take you hom-“

You pressed a finger to his lips to stop him from even mentioning the idea of you going home. If the idea was said out loud you might not have been able to shake it from your brain. Sy anxiously waited for you to say something, watching as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

Finally, you had enough courage to let your desperation show. You had never wanted anything more than this. Though a small part of you deep down felt like running from his house screaming because this is the closest you had ever been to a person- it was over ruled by the overwhelming desire you had to give this man your everything.

“I want nothing more than to kiss you right now, Jeremy.”

The bull’s eyes widened at the sound of his first name from your mouth. This was the first time you ever spoke his name. To be honest, you had been too afraid to utter it before. This was the most vulnerable you had ever been with Sy, and you knew he could see it.

The man looked like he could have burst into tears at the trust you showed him. Slowly, he cupped your cheeks. You smiled at him, eyes closing slowly when you saw him leaning in. The kiss was gentle, his lips slowly coaxing yours to dance.

Your lip locking increased in pace after a moment. The wiggly pink muscle in Sy’s mouth came out to swipe at your lower lip. A whimper escaped your throat. You followed his lead and opened your mouth. The taste of his tongue made you leak from between your thighs. Your shaky fingers gripped the collar of his shirt, drawing him even closer instinctively. It seemed your body knew what to do as you started to move your lips quicker against Sy’s.

Both of you were overwhelmed with emotion. You let this emotion show through your kiss. The need for air was forgotten. This made the both of you dizzy, and Sy leaned into you when you both felt faint. Finally, you were the first to pull away to gasp when you felt your back hit the couch.

Black spots filled your vision as you tried to catch your breath. When they finally cleared you didn't see Sy’s face. This made you panic for a moment. Where did he go? You tried to sit up but you couldn't feel your body for a moment. When enough oxygen had entered your brain you were finally able to register what was happening.

Sy’s lips were exploring the skin just above the collar of your shirt, his head was tucked below your jaw. He had his body over your’s, trapping you to the couch. The hot little puffs of air he let out of his nose brushed down the front of your shirt and thin bra, hitting your perked nipples. A broken moan escaped your dry throat between your heavy panting.

The sound gained Sy’s attention, stopping his attack on your cleavage to lift his head. His eyes finally connected with yours again, and you shuddered. You had never seen that look in his eyes before. Dazed with heavy lust, he seemed to be having just as much trouble catching his breath as you. This didn’t stop him from leaning in to smash his lips to yours again.

You gasped slightly. How could he want to kiss again when both of you were almost dying from lack of oxygen? Nevertheless, you closed your eyes and puckered up. This was what making love was about right? Being completely vulnerable, pushing your body to its limits as the two of you lose yourselves in mind blowing pleasure. Or maybe you were romatizing the act of having sex a little too much...

As you let Sy lead you into another breath-taking battle of tongues, your mind started to wander. He would have you undressed soon… he would see every part of you. Those parts that made you grimace when you looked at yourself in the mirror. There would be absolutely nothing to shield these flaws from his wandering eyes. Maybe you couldn’t do this?

His fingers started to lift up your blouse. Oh no.

“Wait!” You pulled back to whisper frantically, your hands flying to his forearm.

He froze instantly, his clever fingers pinching the hem of your shirt. You felt the cool air against the skin of your stomach where he lifted the cotton off your flesh. The only sound in the room was your rapid panting.

You just needed to catch your breath, but you couldn’t. Sy moved slowly, like he was planning his next move carefully. Easing your shirt back down to your skin, he pulled back slightly to look at your conflicted face. The war inside you raged on again, it made you titter on the edge of a panic attack.

A whimper interrupted your heavy breathing when he tried to pull away completely. Your eyes snapped open to look at him desperately. Shaking your head, you tried to yank him back to you.

Sy finally started to breathe again. It was obvious he didn’t terrorize you completely. He let himself be held to you. As you started to whimper and pant interchangeably, he began to comfort you so you wouldn’t shut down on him. You trusted him to do that right now.

“Shhh… Shh, sweet lil girl…” He quickly pressed his forehead against yours, letting you know he was close.

You gulped audibly, tears were in your eyes. This made Sy flinch. With a wave of guilt, you realized he must have thought you were crying because of his actions. Your tears were the result of your own mind. Your stupid, betraying mind.

“Darlin’, maybe we should stop-“ His hesitant words were interrupted with the frantic shake of your head.

You didn’t want to stop, but you found it hard to go forward. Such a strange feeling.

The pitiful whimper you let out made him flinch again, your tears finally slipping. A soft, broken sob escaped you. He must have thought you were so annoying.

A pained expression paints his face. Mixed signals were being sent to him by you. As you begged to be held closer by him, you were still panting and crying like you were being terrorized. You couldn't blame him for feeling so torn.

“Breath with me, baby. C’mon, now…” He urged you gently, holding your hand to his wide chest. He breathed in slowly through his nose, and exhaled through his mouth

Together, you slowly matched each other’s breathing. Still, you clung to him. It was apparent by your squirming body that arousal still coarsed through your veins. You needed him close, holding onto his shirt as your panting slowed.

“Help me understand, darlin’… tell me what to do.” He finally whispered after your breathing calmed enough.

He pulled back to look at you, letting you both breath. You inhaled some cool air when the space between your faces increased. Your eyes closed for a moment, grateful for Sy for the second of distance. Maybe you could think now.

You tried to find your voice. It was shaky and rough, your throat still feeling swollen from your lack of breath.

“I-I… I just can’t-“ You cut yourself off with a sharp shake of your head. You opened your eyes to meet his.

“I just don’t want my clothes off.” You finally admitted, realizing how stupid that sounded.

Sy stared at you. After a moment of him gawking at you, you had the urge to try and pull away. You knew he didn’t understand, he couldn't understand. With a shaky lip, your hands lifted to try and push on his chest. You wanted out from under him now.

Completely embarrassed, you wiggled in his embrace. With your eyes red and swollen you probably looked awful. And his face was so close to yours, he could probably see the snot threatening to drip from your weepy nose. You sniffled hard.

“No, no. You ain’t getting away that easy.” He eased you back down, you let him even as you pouted. He continued to lay on top of you.

“I understand what you need, baby.” He slowly began kissing your neck again.

His touches weren’t too heated this time around. The warmth of his palms rubbing up and down your clothed sides was enough to make you relax against him. A relieved sigh escaped you. You were glad for Sy’s uncanny ability to calm you down.

“I understand that… takin’ of all your clothes off is a big step for you. Though I would love to see you naked as the day you were born, baby doll, we don’t gotta accomplish that tonight.” He kissed the skin below your ear.

“You’ve been so good for me, darlin’. I know you want to feel good. I can make you feel good. You just need to trust me, okay?” He lifted his head to look at you, his eyes shining.

Sy waited for you to nod before he made a move. He continued to praise you as his fingers trailed down your jaw, smoothing over the sensitive skin of your neck. You hiccuped, your eyes never leaving his.

“Doing so good for me, sugar. You’re so beautiful.” He dared to move his hand down to your cleavage. He nodded when you let out a gasp, encouraging you to let out more noises.

“You sound so beautiful. These here are so perfect, sweetie pie…. Can I touch ‘em a lil bit?” He husked in your ear, letting his right hand rest below your left breast.

With a keen whine, you nodded quickly. Sy took your one breast in his hand, squeezing it once. You never thought they were the right size. Luckily, he seemed to be loving them.

The tip of his nose ghosted along the top of the breast opposite the one he was man-handling. A pink tongue came out to lick at your dewy flesh. Your eyes rolled back at the feel of the wet appendage lapping at the thin sheen of sweat that developed on your skin.

His nose huffed in your scent frantically. With the way Sy was licking and sniffing at your neck and chest, you deducted your presperartion must be laced with some kind of sex pheromones. This man was acting like an animal. Little did you know this was him holding back.

The large hand on your globe disappeared for just a moment. Still, it made you whine and lift your head. When Sy liberally licked at the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, you furrowed your brows.

“‘M gon’ touch on you a lil bit, bug. Tell me if you don’ like it.” His accent was even thicker when he was turned on.

Sy trailed his now wet fingers down the front of your shirt and into your bra. His action of licking his fingers suddenly made sense when his wet fingers enclosed around the perked bud of your breast. This way you didn’t have to take your top off, but you could still have something wet and hot against your nipples.

You mewled when you exhaled the breath you were holding. When you peeked at Sy, he was staring right at you. He was obviously studying your reaction to his touch. You felt like one of his old motorcycles he liked to work on. You were also something he had to experiment with to get it to work just right, just like his bikes.

When his lubricated fingers easily swirled around your nipple, you finally had to cry out. Your hands came up to grip his shirt, needing something to dig your claws into. His drool was still hot for a moment as he teased your breast, but it cooled quickly and caused you to become even more sensitive.

Your mind was spinning as you continued to let Sy know how great he was doing by letting out obscene noises. Never once did you imagine yourself a noisy lover. He really did have a way of making you do things you didn’t normally do.

Sy rewarded your moans with his own hearty grunts and growls. The sounds always vibrated in his chest, it made your eardrums tickle when he let them off right in your ear. With each of his groans he suckled and licked at your lobe, which caused a deep shiver to shoot through you from the base of your spine. If his lips felt so good on your ear, imagine how they would have felt in other places…

Quickly, Sy took his fingers out of your shirt to lick them again. Before you could even whine at the loss, he returned them. His soaking fingers pinched gently at your bud. You jerked at the feeling, eyebrows shooting up in surprise as his calloused digits rolled and tugged on your delicate nipple.

Finally, you were able to find words, “Fuck, Sy! Please…”

He smiled. A deep growl escaped from within his chest. He ducked his face down to suck on your pulse point. Your heartbeat was frantic against the sensitive skin of his lips.

He thumbed at your nipple still, his other hand coming up to gently grasp the back of your neck. You felt your head being lifted till you were no longer leaning it back in pleasure. This made you open your eyes, shivering when you looked directly into Sy’s stormy gaze.

“Does that feel good, darlin’?” He nodded when you did.

Good didn't even begin to describe how this man was making you feel.

“Good… that’s good, sugar plum. I can make you feel even better. Will you let me?” He questioned you breathlessly.

Sy looked like a man going through withdrawals. The black pupils in his eyes were dilated, soft pants escaped his mouth, and his little pink tongue kept coming out to lick his dry lips. This man was acting as if your body was the only way he could get his fix. It amazed you that anyone could ever want you so much.

A shaky hand somehow managed to find its way to his cheek even though all your limbs felt like jelly. The muscles in your neck moved too slowly for your liking when you tried to lean your head against his. Luckily, Sy met you halfway.

The two of you simply stayed like that for a moment; your heads pressed together, with your eyes closed. As you breathed each other in, you lifted your hand to run over his buzz cut. You unconsciously ran your nails over his scalp, a deep shudder coursed through him.

This sure made your brows raise. Suddenly feeling brave, you did it again. This time he almost whimpered. That sure made you feel… powerful.

As soon as he growled again, you were back to putty in his hands.

“Bug…” It was almost a warning.

He was shut up with a passionate kiss by you. The man melted in your arms. Fortunately, this brought you both back down to Earth for a second.

“I trust you, Sy.” You whispered softly against his lips.

Sy shuddered and moaned. Those words seemed to be a one way ticket to his heart. He opened his eyes to look at you, he looked like he could cry with emotion. You smiled and stroked his cheeks. The tickle of his beard against your palms comforted you while you counseled him. His eyes closed again and you followed suit when you saw him leaning in.

Your lips were intertwined, this time the kiss was initiated by him. The taste of him was addicting, you suddenly felt like he was your fix too. Your hands came up to grip his t-shirt again. Suddenly it wasn't enough, you needed to feel his skin against yours. Without a second thought, you slipped your hand under the back of his shirt, right above the back of his jeans. Now you could feel his flesh under the sensitive skin on your palm. The fact made you moan into his mouth. The nails on your fingers softly dug into his skin.

The beast growled again. It made you want to giggle. His hand that was resting idle on your breast started to move again. Your back arched and you whimpered. The hand on his back started to rub softly. This soothed him, the kiss softening for a moment.

He encouraged you to open your eyes again so you did. Gazing at him in amazement, you hiccuped when his fingers pinched your nipple gently. It was pleasure with a delicious little hint of pain. You were throbbing.

Your breath increased again, rolling your hips desperately. Without any other resort, you whined for him. He knew what you wanted, you were sure of it.

Sensing you start to get frantic, he eased you back down with soft shushes. He pulled away from the kiss to look into your eyes again. Another harsh throb pulsated through you. He nodded in encouragement when it made you mewl out loud.

“That’s it, so gorgeous. Let yourself feel, baby girl, it’s alright. Just keep those eyes on me.” He soothed you. “I’m just gonna move my hand a little lower…”

Another whine rang through the air. He couldn’t take his warm hand off your chest, you would simply die. His touch was the only thing keeping you sane at the moment.

“There, there, darlin’. I got you. I’ll make you feel real good, baby.” His breath fanned over your cheeks as he continued to look into your eyes.

You nodded for him to continue.

That hand moved over your sternum, ghosting over your stomach before coming to rest on the waistband of your black leggings. He let it lay there, putting pressure on the spot that was so close to where you needed him to touch most. You couldn't help it, you tore your gaze away from him to lean your head back and moan. He kissed you quickly to swallow the sound of your pleasure into his mouth.

“Do you trust me, baby?” He waited for you to nod. “You know you can say no at any time and I stop.” Another nod.

Sy took a deep breath. He continued to stare at you as his hand slipped into your pants. Your eyes widened when you felt the pad of his fingers touch your slit from outside your cotton panties. Another moan graced his ears.

“There she is, good girl… so wet for me.” He shook his head in disbelief, like he couldn’t believe the gift he’s been given.

He stroked your clothed little pussy for a moment. The entire time you mewled, your cheeks flushed and your back arched. Kissing you again, he slowly sunk those fingers into your panties. You felt it happening and didn’t want to stop it. You needed him to touch you there.

When his palm cupped your center, you stopped breathing for a moment. His hand was so warm, so strong. Unconsciously, your hips pushed up against his touch. He let out a harsh breath when he felt you grind against his hand. That was the permission he was looking for to continue.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby girl, I promise. But you gotta be brave for me. Can you do that?” He begged you to let your insecurities go just this one time, at least long enough for him to blow your mind.

You looked at him for a moment. This man held you like you were the most fragile piece of china. You knew he wasn’t going to hurt you. So you nodded.

“I will, Sy.” You responded with such sureness it made Sy shiver. His mouth finds yours.

His ring and index finger spread your puffy lower lips, his wrist resting on the curls that decorated your mound. The soft little hairs that you fretted over early in the day tickled Sy’s skin. He smiled against your neck as he worked on suckling marks on your skin.

His middle finger traced from your exposed little hole to the throbbing nub that was starting to poke out from beneath its hood at the top of your cunt. He didn't touch it though. Blue eyes watched you as you shuddered and hiccuped. Your thighs twitched.

Sy seemed to like how you were reacting, so he continued. The calloused pad of his finger traced your precious little pearl, coaxing it to swell further with a feather light touch. Every nerve in your body ignited. The spark of pleasure you felt was so raw. It made you clench down so tightly your stomach cramped. You wanted more, needed more.

A groan escaped from your throat, the heat of his touch made you lose all sense of English. How could you beg for more if you couldn’t speak? You whimpered in frustration now.

Sy chuckled, “I know what you need, sweetheart, hold on.”

His finger circled your clit once more before finally pressing. The new pressure added was enough to make you cry out.

“There you go, sweet thing. Just like that… relax and let me make you feel good.” He whispered in your ear when you let your pleasure be known. Hopefully Ms. Donovan really wouldn’t complain about the noise…

Since you still couldn’t form a sentence you let your body speak for you. The hips Sy so often ogled over rolled to try and get him to press harder. So he did.

He started rubbing firm circles against your bud, and you let the sounds fly. Sy listened to each sound like it was gospel, murmuring praises into your ear as you moaned. In the moments you weren’t kissing you, he stared at your face as it contorted in pleasure.

Your little hole was desperately clenching around nothing. Each time it did a little bit of your arousal was pumped out of it. You were positively dripping for him.

A thick finger suddenly traced your entrance. Your eyes snapped open where Sy was already looking at you. His teeth bit his lower lip, his eyes were silently asking for permission again.

Your hands came up to grip his cheeks. Your thumb smoothed out his lower lip, gently taking it away from between his teeth. Sy was rewarded with another kiss.

As your mouths mingled he sunk his index finger into you. He greedily drank down your gasp. Suddenly, he pressed his hips towards you and you could feel his hard bulge against your side. A gasp escaped you. How did he manage to hide that from you this whole time?

Feeling the solid member against your hip caused your legs to open further, almost like it was instinctive. This action made Sy growl. The finger that was resting inside you began to move, pulling back out just to sink inside again. Deeper this time.

“Fuck, you’re tight, little lady.” He huffed, beginning to repeat the action quicker.

With sweat coating your flesh, your chest started heaving. The expression on your face could only be described as blissful pain. You were giving in to your pleasure, finally. With your heart racing, you groaned as your body raced towards something. Something that you had only ever experienced with the vibrating toy you kept at home, and this time the build up was so much more intense. Though, you just needed a little more. A tiny push to get you to your peak.

He sunk a second finger into you, listening to your strangled gasp for a split second before he started drumming his thumb into your clit. The gasp was replaced by a cry. You tossed your head back, arching up as he began thrusting his fingers and flicking his thumb at a steady pace.

“Good girl, good girl. Just a little more, darlin’. I know you’re close, let go for me. Show me what you got.” He challenged you, his eyes burning with lust as he watched you squirm.

You felt him grind his hard-on against you and it just made you hotter. Everything was so warm. All you could hear was the harsh thudding of your heart in your ears. Feral sounding moans and mewls kept escaping you, you couldn’t stop them. The little knot in your stomach was going to snap. It felt scary in a way. So much build up to something spectacular, it was almost suspenseful. You thought your racing heart would give out at any moment, like you were marching to your death.

“Fuck, baby… yes, yes. Just like that. I got you, don’t be afraid.” His cooes fell to deaf ears.

The wet little noises of your cunt were the only sound in the room as the two of you both got quiet. So close, you were so close. When he curled his fingers up inside you, that was your undoing.

You sobbed in relief when the coil in your stomach finally snapped, your muscles relaxing as pure euphoria washed over you. All worries and pesky insecurities slipped away at that moment. You’ve never felt anything like it before. You clenched down onto his fingers, trapping them inside you.

The constant tension in your muscles disappeared. The normal worried furrow in your brows escaped your face, softening your expression. You had never felt such bliss before. The entire time you felt like you were floating, your arms wrapped around Sy as both your hands felt up and down his back.

The slowing of his hand was enough to work you through your orgasm. After flying high for so long, you finally began to tumble back to Earth. Sy was there to catch you, taking his hand away from your swollen pussy to wrap his arms around you.

“Such a good girl, sweetie pie. I knew you could do it, beautiful. Made me so proud.” He whispered against your hair as you caught your breath.

You listened to his words. They were meant to comfort you and you let them. Clinging to the large man, the tremors in your body slowly died down. He was there the entire time, stroking your hair.

“You okay, baby?” He asked you after a silent moment.

You nodded sleepily. When you felt something poke against your thigh, you gulped. In your lust crazed mind you had not felt how big he actually was. Sy heard you swallow, angling his hips away.

“Sorry, darlin’.” He apologized sheepishly.

“We should… we can-“ You started to babble nervously. Guilt filled you at the fact he was left this aroused.

He cut you off, “Now don’t you go worrying about that, sweetheart. We don’t have to do nothing.” He kissed you sweetly.

“Now my plan is to take you downstairs where the both of us are gonna get ready for bed. Then, we’re gonna get under the covers and cuddle. We can talk about our day as we get sleepy, maybe watch some TV. Finally, I am going to watch as you fall asleep in my arms for the first time. Which I think will make the perfect ending to the night of… many firsts.” Sy breathed out the last part, finishing his little speech with a gentle smile.

“But we will not be makin’ love until there is not an ounce of doubt left in the purty mind of yours.” He told you, kissing your forehead.

A smile broke out onto your face when he leaned his head against yours. The patience this man had for you was endless. You were ever so grateful for it.

“I like the sound of that, Captain.” You let out a content sigh before kissing him.

The two of you gently made out, like you weren’t ready to say goodbye to the feeling of each other. However, Sy must have felt how tired you were getting because he pulled away. Slowly, you reopened your eyes.

His teeth bit his lower lip. It looked like he was aching to do something. You knew that whenever Sy was aching to do something, he usually did it. Your dazed eyes watched in anticipation as he raised his still wet digits to his face.

It was jaw dropping to see Sy inhale deeply through his nose when he let his fingers linger under his nostrils. Your sensitive little cunt clenched when the smell made him snarl like an animal who just caught the scent of prey’s blood.

A deep moan sounded from the man as he opened his mouth. His eyes snapped open before he winked slyly, taking his thick fingers onto his tongue. You watched with a gasp as he sucked them clean.

He pulled them out with a soft pop. Sy laughed at the look on your face. He must have really liked the taste of you. You looked at him in tired amazement.

“You taste mighty good, lil one.” He snarled softly, his eyes soft. You melted at his words/

“C’mon, baby. Let’s sit up.” He led you into a sitting position, kissing your cheek the entire way.

You didn’t notice him slyly adjusting himself. When he pulled you up off the couch, your knees wobbled. This made him chuckle. You smiled at him shyly, blushing as you readjusted your clothes.

He led you down the stairs, then to his bedroom. After being told you could take a shower first, you jumped at the opportunity. If you were going to be laying in bed with him you definitely wanted to wash the sweat from your body.

As you undressed alone in the bathroom, you caught glimpses of yourself in the mirror. The woman in the mirror did not look familiar. This woman was positively glowing. The flush in her cheeks and dewiness of her flesh made her look refreshed. Her eyes were dazed, giving her a sultry and seductive look. The makeup on her face was slightly messed and her hair was tousled. She looked like an utter goddess.

It took you a long while before it finally set in that this woman was you.

After your shower, however, your previous confidence disappeared. You caught your reflection in the mirror again. This time the woman in the mirror looked very familiar to you. With your makeup having been removed under the water, your true self was revealed. Your skin was even in both texture and color. Every one of your flaws seemed to be mocking you as you poked and prodded at your body while looking in the mirror.

Suddenly, you pinched your eyes shut and took a deep breath. You promised yourself you were going to spend the night with Sy and enjoy yourself while doing it. With deep breaths, you calmed yourself back down. You continued to tell yourself he would still like you, even if you weren’t all dolled up.

Nausea filled you when you pictured him throwing you out because you looked so ugly. This thought had to disappear quickly. You hurriedly got dressed and opened the door.

When you hesitantly came out of the bathroom in your pajamas Sy was sitting on the foot of the bed. His spine was straight, he was trying to occupy himself by watching sports on the TV in his room. The muscle in his thigh jiggled slightly as he bounced his knee. The Captain was tense. You pouted nervously and wondered why. His body language made you even more anxious than you already were.

His head snapped up when he finally noticed you. The expression on his face softened. This comforted you a little, but he was now gawking at you. Your heart almost broke when his face morphed into a grimace. However, your woe was cut short when he let out a soft groan and he pressed on his groin. Suddenly, you understood.

This man was still very, very much aroused. You glanced down at his lap as your cheeks turned pink. His bulge was starting to show again and you could tell that it never really disappeared. He must have tucked it into his waistband. That had to be so painful.

He blinked when he realized you were looking at him. You smiled bashfully. The fact that he was still aroused after seeing you looking like a bum amazed you. It made you feel all tingly again as you looked away when his gaze became too much for your weak heart.

He stood up, wincing slightly when his cock was squeezed tighter. As he approached you, you noticed he was walking just a little funny. This poor guy was really uncomfortable. Still, he smiled at you before laying his lips onto yours.

It was like he tried to swallow you whole. His mouth flooded yours, drinking down your tired but aroused little whimpers for a second before pulling away. Sy took a deep breath. He let a dopey, innocent grin spread out onto his face.

“You look absolutely stunning, sugar.” He told you, not leaving any room for debate as he breezed past you towards the bathroom.

“Watch some tv, darlin’. I’ll be out soon. Don’t fall asleep.” He turned back to you to wink. “You don’t mind if I listen to some tunes, do you, sweetie pie?”

You shook your head to the innocent enough question, still dazed from the kiss. Sy always liked to listen to music. Usually rock or county.

Fortunately, you were allowed to catch your breath once he closed the door. You got to work on browsing through the channels while Sy got to work on choosing a song and hopping in the shower.

With the sound of the water and the old rock song he chose, you didn’t hear his grunts as he fucked his fist and worked himself to completion.

When he came out of the bathroom he was in sweats and a different t-shirt. He looked more relaxed, his cheeks still flushed from his shower. A deep, contented sigh escaped him.

While Sy was still steaming from the hot water, you had gotten chilly. He chuckled when your eyes flicked over to him, the covers pulled up to your nose. The bed was still perfectly made. You had carefully crawled under one side of the comforter after you started shivering.

A blush rose to your cheeks, making you warm enough to pull the blanket off your face. You could only manage to peep out one little statement.

“I got cold.” You gazed at him shyly.

“I see that, darlin’. Mind if I crawl in and warm you up?” He grinned, raising his brows.

You had to smile at his playful demeanor. Sy always managed to find a way to make the situation less tense for you. A nod signaled him to get into bed. The man who was usually the one giving the orders followed your direction without a second thought. Lifting the other end of the comforter, he slid into the bed smoothly.

Aika was already asleep, curled up on her dog bed in the corner of the room where Sy could see her. He gazed at the pup for a moment to make sure she was alright before his eyes landed on you. The only light in the room was coming from the TV where some 80’s sitcom played. Sy looked surprised over the fact that you actually knew about this show, considering it aired long before you were born. His grin flashed in the dim lighting. It looked like he was getting tired too.

“C’mere.” He grunted sleepily.

The big, gruff man tugged you closer without a second thought, laying on his back with you draped halfway over his body. He seemed to like the feeling of your weight on top of him.

You cuddled up to his clothed chest, playing with the collar of his shirt absentmindedly. The scent of your body wash now decorated his skin. This made you smile, almost flattered that he used it. A soft yawn escaped you, your body sluggish from your own orgasm.

He chuckled. “Go to sleep, sweetie pie. I’ll keep you warm. We can do our lil pillow talking in the mornin’.”

You knew he was disappointed that you two wouldn’t stay up talking. However, the both of you underestimated how tired you would be after your climaxes. He grinned, kissing your head as you laid it on his chest. The sound of your breathing slowed shortly after, Sy knew you were asleep when you started snoring softly.

Completely unbeknownst to you, he continued to watch you as you slept.

A chuckle escaped him. You had never looked more adorable. Your eyes closed, your lips opened slightly as soft little breaths puffed out of them. Drool even gathered in the corner of your mouth, effectively creating a wet dot on his shirt. He knew if you were aware he saw you like this you’d be appalled.

So for now, it was his own little precious secret. A secret that comforted him as he closed his eyes finally, drifting off to sleep. His loud snores soon mixed with yours.

For the first time in many years, Sy didn’t have any nightmares that night.

A/N: So there it was, my first ever fanfic! I hope you all enjoyed it, please let me know what you think. Credits: Divider- @firefly-graphics

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