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kithtaehyung · 6 months

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broken, pt. 1 (3tan) | myg

title: broken (pt. 1) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: chilling conversations prolong things even further… until everything goes to hell. note: this is only one half of what was supposed to be a whole chapter! broken, pt. 2 will come out after i've had time to make it something i'm proud of. trying to rush everything out didn't do any favors, so hilariously and ironically, broken is broken up into two hahaha. warnings: language, angst, tension, yoongi’s pov is longgg, alcohol consumption, tobacco mentions, bro🥲, yoongi in the studio😩, the studio boys make another appearance👀, …someone else makes their first appearance👀👀, scuffles, tense situations, did i say angst?, water bottles get their own warning, long hair yoongi, basketball yoongi🫠, crying, bro a ha ha, jimin has tats and he’s not afraid to show them, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, honestly he is on another level of warning here don’t perceive me💀, the fluff is fluffing here like what, backstory we’ve been waiting for😗, yoongi on the phone, hand holding :’)), kissing :’)), oh god the kissing❤️‍🩹, there’s just a lot in both parts i'm sorry y'all playlist: broken (lp) drop date: dec 3rd, 2023, 4:00pm est word count: ...19.1k 🚶‍♀️

Words abandon you.

They stand far from your form, pitying observers of your decaying state in front of the man you’ve been lying to. At once, you feel completely alone, not even Yoongi’s lingering presence helping when those eyes are piercing through time and space. Everything you’ve experienced over the past two years slings across your vision, from the first time you left your house in the pouring rain to get to Yoongi’s, to the car ride back you just took with his kiss still on your lips.

All of those moments shattering into dust around your heels.

Your feet make lines in them when you move to close the front door, something leaving your mouth before you can judge if it makes sense, “About what?”

Zero sense. Absolute zero sense. Which your brother has absolute zero patience for. The drone in his question hits you like a punch to the gut, “Really.”

“Just out late, is all,” you grumble, trying your best to not acknowledge an atmosphere so tense it’s almost crowded. “Jimin had another party, remember?”

“Course I do.”

Huh? Wait. Why does he sound so—

“I was there.”

Dread launches up your veins, rocketing right to your heart in the middle of a pulse. He was there? You saw his car when Yoongi pulled up close to the house. He was there? When the fuck did he arrive? Oh, fuck, if he got there early enough… did he see you… and Yoongi…

No. There’s no way. Because one, Yoongi parked far down and around the corner. He made sure not to be close just in case you two could be spotted.

With a thought you really cannot afford right now, you also assume he stayed that distance just so that he could pin you against his car. Fucking hell, focus! Upping the strength of your resolve to match cardboard, you lamely stall in your hunt for clarification, “You were?”

“I was.”

The watch on his wrist glints in its twist. When aggravated veins stare back at you, it’s obvious your brother is on the edge. Because he is deathly calm. “So where’d you go?”

You blink, not having expelled a single breath since you stepped foot inside.

Does he not know? Or does he know and he’s just waiting for you to finally spill? With all the hope in the universe, you yearn for it to be the first one. Because you cannot deal with a fallout right now. Not right after what happened with Yoongi.

It’s just not the right time.

“Yuri’s,” you blurt, finally kicking into gear and strategizing how you’re gonna finesse this. “She came and got me.”

Your sibling just stands there, eyes a solid beam before he sighs at clasped wrists.

Here it comes. He’s gonna ask why you didn’t say anything. Like he always does because for some reason you’re still not a true adult to him and he has to keep tabs on you at all times and you can’t just sneak around with his best friend in peace—

“K.” Your eyes shake once. “Just tell me next time.”

And just like that, your brother vacates the foyer, dark dress shoes clacking as he retreats back into his room. Leaving you standing in silence.

All the words around you just as speechless.

Just like that, you’re gone again.

After watching you leave and wishing you didn’t have to, Yoongi shuts his door to rest ponderous thoughts on worn wood. Eyes closed and a storm on his mind’s horizon.

Just a little longer. He hopes you’ll understand. This is just something he needs. More than anything else.

Exhausted, he peels himself from the door, meandering through the bog of his living room. Trudge, trudge, trudge to the dining table, skirting fingers along the edge and noting that it feels different than before.

At least something in his apartment has changed for the better.

Who would’ve thought that table would witness both an end and a beginning. That it would see the worst and best of him. If it was ever called to stand, there’s no doubt that it could recite all his failures and shortcomings. But he hopes that it would also attest to how much he’s fucking tried.

As much as Yoongi wants to throw it out, he hasn’t. Because despite being withered to hell, all it needed to recover was the new company of a familiar face.

And a little bit of summer rain.

It watches as his thoughts move on, and soaks in the blues and pinks of sunrise as he crosses into the bedroom. At the feel of your lingering presence, Yoongi gnaws on his lip.

What the fuck does he do now? The moment you leave, he wants nothing more than to have you back in his bed. It’s the one fact that he has come to fully acknowledge. Because there are many times you’ve caught him slipping. But when you’re lost to your dreams? Visibly at peace and safe under his sheets? That’s when he can’t even think straight.

How your serenity throws him into disarray, Yoongi has no fucking clue.

But he can’t afford these feelings right now. Because how can he want you close while being the reason for this distance? Make it make sense. Don’t be a fucking hypocrite. Tsking, Yoongi once again accepts the consequences, heading to his bathroom before going back the fuck to sleep.

Lies. Who is he kidding? There’s no way his rest will be the same without you. Especially since he doesn’t know when he’ll get to see you next.

There is a way to remedy that. To put an end to your time apart. But Yoongi’s been so in his fucking head that it’s chaining him down and pulling taut. No matter how much he struggles, he can’t break free, and it’s driving him to the brink.

But last night? With you? Half moons mar his palms as he stands. Staring. Branding that whole memory into his heart.

After three months of questioning his existence.

All it took was your soft hums to give him a reason.

And you won’t ever know how much that meant to him. Not until Yoongi finally decides to tell you. Which will most likely be never. Maybe that’s why this time tears at his chest more than all the others. Maybe that’s why he stood in his doorway longer than usual. Maybe that’s why he can’t quite carry the weight in his chest.

Dumping himself on dark mountains—creations of his and your design—Yoongi buries his face in those valleys. Inhales those aromas like some hit he can live off of for however many days left he needs.

Desperately grasping for a fading world where only you two exist. Drifting. Dreaming. Disarmed by a vibration on his nightstand.

The fuck.

Who is texting him this early. There are only a few people he has notifications on for wait it’s probably you saying you’re home.

Peeling himself off the sheets with a groan, Yoongi simply shifts his upper body to reach for his phone, squinty-eyed as he checks his screen.

And he doesn’t see your name.

Dumbass: 1 New Message

But your brother’s.

What the hell does he—

Dumbass [07:30]: We need to talk.

…Shit.

Yoongi grips his phone in panic, ice water streaming through his veins and mind set ablaze with potential scenarios.

He’s awake. You went home. And he’s awake. Fuck, did anything happen? Did you say anything? What are the chances this text means he found everything out?

Shit.

Does Yoongi answer now? Or does he sleep and pretend that this is just a text and isn’t a problem at all? Think. Your brother may not even be referencing you, or him. Right? It could be something completely different.

Why can’t he fucking move?

Every regret Yoongi’s kept at bay floods his brain, crashing into assumptions of your mental state and creating a massive whirlpool of dread. Just answer. Don’t answer. Just answer. Don’t fucking answer. Suddenly, another alert lights his home screen and it’s a call oh fuck—wait… It’s Jungkook?

Why not. Sure. What’s one more issue.

Picking up, Yoongi runs hard fingers through his hair as he answers.

“Hey, you coming?”

“Huh?”

“We have that session in thirty.”

The what. The session? Oh, fuck. The session. Yoongi completely forgot they had a recording booked today because they were so hyped last night to get a date for the release party shit. Vacating his bed, Yoongi answers with a low, “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Yeah, don’t be late. It’s those guys from before.”

Fuck, it’s that one. The dudes that stopped by the studio just as things were wrapping up, shocking everyone when they scheduled some time. Highly successful musicians and performers booking something with a no name studio? Things are rolling in the right direction and coming along fast.

But as things go. If they don’t take this shit seriously, everything can crash just as quickly.

“Heading out,” Yoongi finally says as he yanks a hoodie from his closet, and a loud vibration against his ear makes him flinch.

Dumbass [7:40]: Heading over

Fuck!

“You okay?”

“Shit, yeah.” Yoongi grips soft material before his phone hits his desk with a thump. Hastily dressing, he grunts, “Maybe. Might be like two minutes late.”

“Nah, come now.”

He’s heading over? Your brother? If that’s the case, there’s no way he doesn’t know.

Fuck, relax. Don’t overthink. If anything, there wouldn’t have even been a heads-up. Yoongi figures he’d just find out as soon as he’s thrown against a wall. Or the ground. Or right onto his coffee table that this very guy helped pick out. Shit, he needs to know but he doesn’t wanna find out.

But nevermind him. Are you okay? Swiping his device, Yoongi quickly types a text before fast-walking out of his room, going on autopilot when he assures into his receiver, “I’ll get there.”

Yoongi [7:42]: Going to the studio

“On time? You better!”

Goddamn, he’s juggling too much right now.

As Yoongi breaks into the dining room, he hears a rustling on the line before other voices jut through the speaker. Sounds like Hobi and Joon are already there, and the next thing said further spikes his stress level another peak,

“We’re already cutting it close with the prep.”

Fucking hell, the prep. The mics, the tracks, the setup. They forgot to do all of it. Something inside of him starts snarling and almost pounces through the phone, “Fuck, we should’ve been ready already.”

“Shit, I know.”

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“Dude, relax, I get it.”

“Do you? Cus this is… Fuck.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get it done but it’s gonna be tight. Hey, where’s the… Damn it, what’s it called?”

Frustrated and rummaging through his pantry, Yoongi knows he sure as hell didn’t think about anything else as soon as he heard you crying on the line. If he had remembered while leaving the studio, he could’ve spared a brain cell to rush everyone back in. “The what.”

“The… The overhead mic for the drums.”

Of course, he’d repeat every decision he made last night. Over, and over, and over again. But any of them should’ve remembered this step before leaving, which pisses him off. The studio’s lack of experience is showing and it’s making him nervous.

And Yoongi still doesn’t know what’s going on with his best friend.

“We need two overheads for drums,” he corrects while swiping a water bottle from the counter. And he’s about to rattle off where they are when he feels another long buzz.

Dumbass: Incoming Call

Of fucking course.

Mind whirring so hard he can feel steam, Yoongi quickly recalls where the mics are, “They’re somewhere in the back by the amps, but I gotta take this so I’ll see y’all there.”

“Wait, where are the—”

Nope. Kook’s just gonna have to figure out whatever he’s asking on his own. Switching calls, Yoongi answers while opening his door, hastily putting out the food and water he grabbed from the kitchen.

“Hey.” Fuck, is his voice shaking? What the hell is he gonna be faced with in the next few seconds? Can he freeze time and rewind and keep last night on repeat? “I’m about to head out.”

“Don’t leave yet, I’m coming.”

“No, just”—Yoongi dashes back inside before grabbing his wallet and keys from the bar—“You good? I can’t be late.”

“Don’t lie. Y’all are done, right?”

Don’t lie. Yoongi feels like hurling.

“We got another project,” he huffs as he meets sunrise again, blazing a trail through his corridor and rounding the corner to his car. “A band’s coming in for a session.”

“Shit.”

There’s a pause on the line. And it’s the first bit of silence Yoongi’s had since he got the first bone-chilling text. Is his secret safe? Are you okay? Should he work extra late and run from a problem yet again? He’s very good at that. Running. If there was a medal for distance ran from issues, he’d be on the podium for both gold and silver.

“Okay, fine.”

Relief is temporary. This could just be him biding his time in order to figure out what to do. Or maybe he truly doesn’t know what’s going on and Yoongi has a bit more uninterrupted time with you.

Delusion is a great place to stay.

In any case, his friend’s behavior is alarming. What’s he doing up this early? And why is he wanting to swing by so bad if not to slice him into tiny pieces? Nerves slow on the downslope, Yoongi shuts his car door and lends his ear, “But serious, are you okay?”

“I just… Tch. I can’t even say it.”

He lets his friend go through a series of small sounds on the line, pulling out of the lot and hitting the road with tire squeaks. “What’s up,” he finally pushes, looking sideways and remembering the car ride home.

There was no way Yoongi was gonna say no to you. He didn’t in this universe, and he’d bet his whole life he doesn’t in any other one, either. Not when your wings looked like you hadn’t used them in months.

Pained, Yoongi hopes you’re completely fine and sleeping. Tucked away in a bed that captured part of his heart, visiting him in your dreams so that some version of him can be at your side.

“Everything, Yoong.”

But, as it so starkly turns out, he has to deal with reality. And with the fact that you’re just as far away as you were before last night. Maybe even further out of reach.

So, so far away.

“There’s a ton of shit, but. Fuck. Guess we’ll have to wait.”

Right now, deal with the studio prep and get through the session that will probably take awhile. After that, meet up with your brother and hope to god he doesn’t know. “K.”

“Just lemme know when you get back.”

Then, when all of that is done, Yoongi will be alone. Staring into the night and trying his hardest not to give up on himself again. “Yeah, I will.”

“No running.”

“K.”

When the call ends, Yoongi lets out the harshest breath he’s ever let out in his life. Hoping you went right to sleep without dealing with any of that.

“How did that sound?”

Looking into the recording room, Yoongi raises a thumbs up as Hoseok clicks back to the beginning of the track. At their side, Namjoon hits a button on the console before speaking into a microphone, “Y’all wanna come hear it?”

“We can move on. Wanna get the doubling done.”

Huh? They’re gonna move onto vocal doubling already? With a few blinks, Yoongi think it’d be better if they—

“Okay!” Jungkook agrees from the couch, cutting out any other thoughts. “If any of you need adjustments, let us know.”

“Yeah, actually, can one of you come switch this out?”

Joon throws a suggestion over his shoulder, but Yoongi is already heading for the booth before his name is even mentioned.

Get everything done smooth. Stay disciplined. Be professional, goddamn it.

Entering the soundproofed room will always make him want to occupy the mic instead. That feeling hasn’t gone away, and there have been countless nights where he’s spent time just sitting in this very space, visualizing what it would be like to work on this side of the glass someday. Deep down, Yoongi knows he could be somebody. But imposter syndrome runs deep.

Avoiding cables strewn about the room, he offers his hands without a word, taking a guitar from the lead singer and making his leave—

“Hey.” He turns. “You’re good.”

What? Where the hell did that come from? Did he even hear this guy right or was he just daydreaming again? Yoongi’s so thrown he can only stare with question marks for eyes.

Amused, the singer simply points to the side of his beaming countenance. “You have an ear.”

Huh. How the hell can this dude tell? All Yoongi’s done is indicate if a recording take was good or not, and given a few minuscule suggestions to the keyboardist and guitarist—instruments he’s well-versed in.

Yet again, he’s so in his head that the man outright laughs, “Relax! You can talk to us like normal, you know. None of us care about etiquette shit.”

“Shit, my bad,” Yoongi finally responds, instrument in his hands proving a little lighter. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Swishing long bangs to the side, the performer rests a hand on his hip. “We’re open to anything. We’d just tell you if your opinion sucks.”

Eyes creasing with his lips, Yoongi puffs out a laugh.

“Kidding. Only a little.”

Even though these people are world-renowned, they’re the first humble group to run through the studio. Everyone else has been either cocky, standoffish, or super opinionated, which made for unproductive hours.

Yoongi likes this change of pace. His shoulders start to feel composed, less scrunched than they had been since you left his place this morning. Comforted, he looks down at the guitar in his fingers.

Choosing not to say what he wants to.

Should he? Nah. These guys know what they’re doing. Despite the nice offer to speak up, it’s not his place. Far from it.

…But what would you tell him to do? What would you be proud of?

Committed to his answer, Yoongi grips the neck and decides without another thought,

“Do the chorus again.”

The whole studio stills. But all he’s looking at is the man in front of him, shaking his head when they ask, “Same way?”

“Uhm. No.” As he hands the guitar back, Yoongi wordlessly checks if he can see the sheet music. When given the go-ahead, he scans the lines before pointing out a passage to note,

“Mm. Here. Vocals are fine as is, but. Ride the build-up quicker and hit the next chord after a bit longer.” When he stops, he has to fight to ignore the eyes on him. There’s no doubt that his extended time in the recording room is being questioned, and his hand movements probably make him look stupid. “It’ll keep in time but hit harder.”

Done. He said it.

And the response that follows puts complete silence to shame.

Instantly self-conscious, Yoongi swears he can hear Hobi’s pants shift in the control room through two closed doors shit he took it too far. Fuck, if these guys walk out now the studio is done for and he’ll be the only reason why—

“Well, goddamn. Let’s try that then.”

Huh. They’re gonna take that?

As he steps away, Yoongi feels slightly awkward doused in attention. Yeah, expressions seem like looks of approval, but they could just be polite.

The man hums the chorus with Yoongi’s notes in mind, and his eyebrows tick a bit before he addresses the others in the room, “You heard him?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Yeah, we can try that.”

“Why didn’t you think of that, Woosung?”

Yoongi can’t keep his amusement under wraps as the singer laughs, addressing his keyboardist with a grin, “Damn, not even Sammy? Straight to Woosung, huh.”

“Sammy would’ve thought of it.”

Another bout of mirth spreads joy around the recording booth, and Yoongi shares a look with the singer before they both nod.

“Let’s see how it sounds.”

“K.”

Proud and adrenaline-filled, he turns to walk back to the door, head so buzzed he doesn’t know what to do. But when Yoongi can’t see into the control room anymore, he misses a stare through the glass.

A stare that lingers on him just a little too long.

The rest of the session goes smooth, and Yoongi’s relieved that they haven’t asked him for anything else.

After all. He doesn’t wanna push it, or step on Jungkook’s toes. What happened in the recording room only went down because you would have scolded him for not seizing that moment. And the suggestion he gave was lauded after the next take.

It was the first time since you kissed him goodbye that he felt a healthy pulse in his chest. Despite the chaos of the morning, amid the thoughts and worries penetrating his brain, you reached out and kept him steady in just the right moment.

Fuck being his good luck charm. You give guardian angels shame and you don’t even know it.

“Okay, we’ll take ten after this.”

Jungkook holds up an arm while agreeing, “Okay! We’ll save what we got!”

Yoongi’s scanning the tracks when he feels hovering over his shoulder, and he already knows it’s the kid without looking. “Sup.”

“Nothing.”

“You sure.”

At this, Jungkook pauses before he sighs. “Yeah, it’s nothing,” he clearly lies.

But Yoongi will let him figure out whether to run with that or not. He seems a little bothered about something, and it very well could be what happened in the booth. This is work, and they’re both adults. If he wants to talk about something, Yoongi will gladly have that conversation.

Suddenly, a vibration erupts in his hoodie pocket, and his phone is fished out without him even thinking.

Hustler: Incoming C—

Shit. You wouldn’t call him at work unless it’s urgent. Which is quickly throwing any possible theories about your brother not knowing out the window.

But fuck, he can’t answer yet. There’s no way. Not only is he in very close range to someone you don’t wanna speak to right now, but he’d get blasted for being on his phone during a session. Hoping you can wait just two more minutes, Yoongi turns the buzzing off within his hoodie pocket, anxiously waiting for the take to start.

Hoping to everything that Jungkook didn’t happen to see what was on his screen.

As soon as everyone looks pleased—three takes and thirty minutes later—Yoongi quickly excuses himself from the control room. His head practically overheats on the way out back, but the gust of morning breeze serves to soothe it some.

It’s been chilly lately. A bit grey. But whatever the weather has been outside, it’s no match for the atmosphere of his brain.

Pulling his hood over hair he hasn’t cut in months, Yoongi looks around before ringing you up. Hoping that you’re good and didn’t have to go through a version of his panic earlier.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

Straight to voicemail? Shit.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

Fuck, still voicemail. Are you okay? On the phone with someone else? Did your brother actually end up finding out and things are worse than he thought? Clutching his phone, Yoongi glances up while giving it slight shakes, body on alert while deciding what the hell to do now.

Maybe he can at least text you to ask what the hell happened this morning? Typing. Erasing. Retyping. Retrying.

Yoongi [9:02]: Got a session today, doll.

That’s what he had to say? That won’t do you any good, the fuck? Berating himself with a sigh, he takes a few steps while texting a follow-up.

Yoongi [9:03]: Still going, but are you good?

Staring, it takes him a few seconds to decide if this is enough. If these two messages are gonna suffice to help him figure out what the hell he’s getting into later.

It’s not. There’s too much he needs to know.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

When it doesn’t ring a third time, Yoongi gives up, cursing before turning and raking his hood off in distress.

Only to see Woosung materializing out of nowhere—relaxed, silent, and taking a drag.

Shit. How much of that did he witness?

“Been there,” the man empathizes, blowing out smoke into crisp morning. After a swell of early traffic fills the alleyway, he continues, “In trouble?”

Great. With a sound of dejection, Yoongi answers to a stack of random boxes, “Might be.”

“Don’t wanna commit anymore?”

“I do,” Yoongi blurts without hesitation, looking right into eyes that have seen plenty more than he has.

And it’s the first time he’s admitted anything out loud. To a stranger miles above him in status, no less. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he clarifies, “It’s just… There’s something I need to do first.”

Wait a sec. Why the fuck is he talking about this so freely? This isn’t something he does. Privacy is practically his brand. So why is it easy to talk to this guy? It’s him, for fuck’s sake. But what’s done is done. Woosung probably won’t even remember this conversation even happened, or is already annoyed as hell he didn’t get a good read on him.

To Yoongi’s surprise, his alley companion speaks again after another white wisp. “Mmm… Something you need to do?”

Well. Yoongi walked right into this one. Swallowing and knowing he can’t dip out, he sighs, “Some shit I wanna finish.” The smell of tobacco wafts around him when he looks at dulled skies. “Shit I need to get through.”

An amused hum floats through empty space. “Been there, too.”

Yoongi slowly turns to regard his client, watching as Woosung becomes very interested in wet concrete.

What kind of shit has this guy seen? Surely, he could have had some of the same experiences. The slight droop in his confident shoulders tells enough. But would he understand the exact same situation?

No. At least, Yoongi hopes not. Quite fucking frankly, he hopes no one has had to go through the same shit that he has.

“Let me know if you ever need help,” Woosung offers, shocking Yoongi to the point of speechlessness. As he drops his cigarette to squash it out, he runs a hand through wild dark locks. “We’ll be around again.”

Wait. What? Yoongi can only blink. “Serious?”

“Yeah.” The man looks down the outside corridor, watching as people start heading to their jobs through a central courtyard. “Got a good feeling about this place.”

What does he mean by that. What can Woosung possibly mean by that what does he mean they’ll be back? To the studio? To the city? What’s happening. Yoongi simply lets a pause prevail before offering the only response he’s capable of,

“It’s the food next door, huh.”

That laugh has got to be top five in the world. Not as great as yours, but definitely up there in terms of what makes Yoongi feel like things are alright. Not that he’d ever admit that shit to anyone. Ever.

Mercifully, the conversation moves away from risky topics. Instead, there are talks about a tour one is planning for his band’s album, mixed in with mentions of equipment the other is saving up for. Then the rest isn’t about music at all.

Finally, it’s time for them to continue recording, so they know to head back inside. “Don’t wait,” Woosung advises as he turns on his heel.

And Yoongi can only stare somewhere else.

“If there’s something you need to get through...”

Stare, and stare, and stare some more.

“Hit it until it breaks.”

Because he’s already aware. More than anyone.

As Woosung shuts the back door, Yoongi’s gaze finds the crushed cigarette at his side. Another reminder of how things were.

And a reminder that he’s still a fucking coward.

Hours later, Yoongi’s car awaits him in the lot.

And when he realizes that you still haven’t responded, he shuts his door just a little too hard.

Whenever his friend comes over for drinks, it’s always the same routine.

Both of them don’t talk much, instead opting for a quiet greeting before someone dumps themselves on the couch while the other grabs a bottle and cups in the kitchen. As soon as glasses are filled, conversation sparks as a game plays out on tv—or a sportscasting show if nothing interesting is airing.

But this time? None of it happens that way. Because when Yoongi opens his door, he’s pinned with a shadowed visage he's only seen piercing through others.

And the whole arctic starts to seep into his bloodstream.

Raising a brow and giving space is his chosen course of action. Best to not disturb a beast if they’re already ready to lunge.

And his friend eyes him as he stalks into the house, scanning around in search of something—living room, dining table, even looking into the open doorway of the bedroom.

Fuck. Relax. Don’t assume anything until things are on the table. Yoongi has got to pretend like tonight is normal and fine and that he’s obviously and positively not seeing and sleeping with his friend’s little sister.

And that he most definitely didn’t eat you out where your brother is sitting now motherfucker he needs a drink. Or a smoke. Or both with a plane ticket out of the whole country.

At least the television is already on. If it wasn’t for that ambiance, Yoongi’s head would be jam packed with every goddamn sound known to man. Including the adorable way you talk in your sleep, and how you strain so beautifully when you come fuck, fuck, fuck! Focus.

What’s happened has happened. And what’s going to happen will happen. Whether it’s a consequence of his actions, or nothing to do with any of this at all.

But when faced with everything smushing together at once? Yoongi will probably need to be revived no matter what the outcome. This is the most stressed out he’s been in years.

Not only that, but his stress is more than obvious. Even now in the kitchen, he’s scanning through his bottles with a finger—an action he’s never done while sober since the choices are always predictable. Holy shit, he needs to pull it together.

Has he ever been this panicked? Does he appear just as chaotic and disjointed as he feels? This is too new. This is very new and if he doesn’t regain control there’s no telling where this foreign road leads.

But the silence still remains as he turns. And apparently the road hits a dead end at his dining table. Since it’s occupied rather than the living room sofa.

Sighing, Yoongi ambles to his friend, placing everything down with clinks and ignoring the way his furniture is getting burned through. Both whisky’s are ready. Yoongi’s already holding his. And your brother still hasn’t moved a muscle. Honestly, what the fuck is going on with—

“I went to Jimin’s last night.”

…What.

Don’t react. He’s staring. Don’t fucking react. Take a drink. A sip. Pick up the goddamn glass. Doing so, Yoongi slowly brings the liquid to his lips, not quite following his own instructions as he asks behind a barrier, “How was it.”

His question is met with a laugh that isn’t funny at all. The kind that drags a finger along the chalkboard of your soul. And the next question directed his way pulverizes Yoongi’s denial,

“Care to share what’s been going on?”

He’s sick. Beyond sick. The room is closing in and closing in too fucking fast. Shit shit shit. There’s no way he saw. No fucking way. He parked down the street he deliberately stopped as far away as possible and you saw your brother’s car in your driveway. Did he get there after you left? And didn’t see you while also not hearing from hi—

“Why her, Yoong? Hmm?”

Fuck!

Yoongi can’t feel the air in his lungs. Because there isn’t any. Just a barren wasteland of shriveled futures and cracks in the foundation of every relationship he’s had in his whole life. The millisecond before a crash and only his wheels spinning and spinning and spinning—

Your brother shoots out of the chair, making the glass in Yoongi’s palm feel infinitely more solid.

“I mean, fuck! After all the shit we’ve been through? You’re gonna go back to her?”

All the—shit, he can’t even—back to? Back to you? What does he mean by back to you? Does he know about the first ti—

Volcanic, the man interrogating paces beside the dining table. Back and forth, back and forth. A pause. Back and forth.

And Yoongi still feels frozen in time. Is this it? Is this when things come crashing down? Glass suspends in midair all around him; an orchestra trembles beneath his feet, waiting for the moment to rip into his rib cage with swift strokes and a flourish as he’s taken down.

“Can’t fucking believe you.”

When Yoongi finally chooses to speak, what comes out only feels like a horrible attempt more than anything else, “Listen, it’s my fau—”

“What, you just decided to fuck that bitch again? Couldn’t stay away?”

Oh, fuck that.

Wood scrapes into flooring as Yoongi vacates his chair, hard feet planted as he gets into the face of his best friend, his confidant, his day one. Only to speak so low only them two can hear, “How bout you use your fucking words already and I’ll tell you.”

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” They are only a breath apart. But no one’s going anywhere now. “Need me to spell it out for that fuckass brain of yours—”

“Say it—”

“Stop fucking your ex, dude!”

Yoongi’s back connects with the chair behind him, palms flinging back to brace himself through a jolt of pain. And his eyes go so wide they stretch at the edges.

…Motherfucker, what?

Your brother is not done in the slightest, but Yoongi can only stare as he’s being berated for something that is one-hundred percent news to him, too.

“Everyone was happy when you finally left. All of us. Only for you to go and, what, get back with her?”

Nothing makes sense. This isn’t about you? Yoongi’s heart can’t even reset to start beating again. Everything is coming as shock after shock and there’s no way he can keep up at this pace.

His ex? Her? Where the fuck did that come from and why the hell does he of all people think that’s actually true?

“If you’re gonna be with her, you can count me out.”

No. Never again. That would never, ever happen again. “The fuck are you even saying—”

“I’m not fucking joking, Yoong. If you’re seriously back with her then—”

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck you heard, but I’m not.”

“So everything I heard was a lie?”

“Huh?”

“He told me!”

He—who? Who the fuck would say that? And when how what the fuck and why? Yoongi stares, chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. Because he has a choice to make. Either he trudges into this lie and rubs sludge all over his bones, or he denies it like he wants because it’s not fucking true.

What the actual fuck. It’s already bad enough that someone sent this along the rumor mill. And it’s making him sick thinking about all the implications surrounding it. But it’s even worse that his best friend believes it so easily. He’s coming at him so quick without even asking if it’s true.

The only silver lining—the singular bright spot in this hellhole—is that he can use it as an out. An out to protect you from wrath and further fury from your older sibling because if you were the rumor? He’d be laid flat on his floor next to a broken dining set.

“You gonna say anything or what?”

Truthfully, Yoongi feels queasy knowing what he’s gonna do. But it’s for you. You, you, you. And for that, Yoongi will do anything.

Even if it kills him.

“No, I, umm…”

“No?”

Just hurry up and fucking do it.

Resigned, Yoongi lets the memories flood through. Every moment that’s haunted him from a distance charges forward as he surrenders to the pain of his past. “It’s—” Fuck, he can’t even begin to lie, head thundering, thundering, striking his heart in the rain. “I...”

His friend halts. Tense before his shoulders fall back to normal. “You what.”

What the fuck does Yoongi do? What can he say when his brain is only firing up to beg him to run? Technically, he doesn’t have to say anything. He really doesn’t. But he can deflect. It’s what he’s best at, after all. He’s been doing it to you and he will do it again.

In the most defeated voice he can muster, Yoongi comes up with something that will placate his friend while still prolonging this horrid fib, “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“You sure?”

It’s true. More true than anything. “It’s over now.”

A century passes. Then another. Then another. Every piece of furniture waits in silence as the television seeps back into his ears.

Then his friend sighs, not looking back as he slumps into the same chair that you always occupy. And Yoongi hopes his sigh of conflicted relief isn’t witnessed.

Following suit, he rubs his lower back before taking his regular seat again, not giving any shits about waiting to drink.

His ex?

As his throat warms, Yoongi starts to harden the more memories keep crashing into each other like jagged waves fuck he really hates how she was brought into this he swears as soon as he figures out who said this he is going to—

“Sorry.” Haze shattered, he lifts his gaze. “I’m so fucking stressed and hearing that last night just…”

“It’s done.” Yoongi reaches for the thick bottle, pouring more into his glencairn. Wanting to talk about literally anything else, he diverts the conversation, “But something else is up with you so say it.”

It works. The man inhales deep, rubbing his face with weary hands. When he rests elbows on wood, he finally talks about other things clouding his mind,

“Work is shit,” he groans downward. “They’re having me travel again.”

“Domestic?”

“Yeah. But for longer. And I don’t…” Tapering off, he sits back, slowly playing with his glass. As if he doesn’t want to mention the next problem.

When he finally does, Yoongi wholeheartedly understands the hesitation, “I dunno know what’s going on with my sister.”

Oh. Fuck, how the hell does he respond? Keeping his cool, Yoongi just repeats the question, taking out his phone and pretending to check his screen. “Your sister?”

“Yeah.” A sigh is sandwiched between explanations. “The past few months, I feel like.. They haven’t really been themselves.”

A sudden crack splits him through.

“Not laughing. Not eating as much. Like even when they sound happy, I can tell it’s a front.. I don’t know.”

The clunk of his phone hits the table very hard.

No. No, no, no. Your texts have been so positive. So encouraging. Other than a few sad calls, you’ve been happy to hear from him just as he had been relieved to hear from you. Even in the car, you must’ve put your feelings lightly.

Your wings. You’ve been enduring all that? For him? Yoongi’s heart rears its head, snagging one of his breaths and slamming both lungs into the floor.

And hatred paints his heart another shade darker.

“They finally went out last night, but. Didn’t come back until this morning.” Running rigid hands through his head, the man looks so pained. So helpless. “Same clothes, dude.”

And Yoongi can only stare, feigning nonchalance but raging and tearing himself apart inside. “Mm.”

“I just… I know I suck at this, but. I don’t know what the hell to do. Or if I even do anything.” Your brother finally takes a swig, wincing at how much ethanol coats his tongue.

Relax, relax, relax. As much as he wants to erupt on himself right now, Yoongi has to stay calm.

Not like he doesn’t know how. That’s usually how he operates, anyway. It’s hard to tell he’s struggling unless you look deep enough. And almost no one thinks to do so because his surface is all they want.

But right now? He doesn’t think he can sequester this anger any longer. At him, his past, and his stupid present decisions.

“Like I tried to say something but I just.. I felt like if I push too hard, they’re gonna shut down even more. Ever since that fight with Kook, it’s like..”

Seeing an opening and keeping a neutral stance, Yoongi asks the most ironic question to date, “Are they seeing someone?”

At this, his friend shakes his head, eyes glued to dark amber liquid. When he answers, all the breaths in the world cut at once,

“I think she feels all alone.”

This hit is the strongest. Straight to the gut, breath stuttering and muscles clenching so hard they lock. It’s almost severe enough to affect how Yoongi feels around his eyes.

“And it sucks not knowing what to do.”

Yoongi’s heart lurches, deflating and slipping out of the crack in his chest. Piercing on the jagged edges before slumping down onto a table that continues to judge him.

You’re hurting. Your brother’s hurting. And it’s all his goddamn fault. Why can’t he just break free and admit shit? Why is he still haunted by the phantoms of his past? Why is he still so fucking weak? It’s clear that he hurt you. For months. You’ve been cheering for him that whole time while you’ve been visibly broken and it’s all because of his dumbass decision to—

“I’m heading out again.”

Yoongi raises his eyes. Because he can’t seem to move anything else. “When.”

Your older sibling takes a slower, more measured sip. Looking towards the channel playing in the living room, he answers, “After our game. Dinner Friday, game on Saturday, fly out Sunday.”

“Mm. We’ll still be here,” Yoongi assures, keeping things as normal and neutral as he can. “Just like last time.”

How ironic. How hypocritical. He hasn’t been there for you in the slightest so how the fuck can he say that with a straight face.

“Thanks. I know it’s a lot for y’all but..”

Not at all. Yoongi is more determined than ever to make everything up to you. It’s the least he can do after putting you through something he decided on the fly.

On the run.

“Don’t worry about that,” he vows into his drink. Honestly, if you’ve been having second thoughts about this whole thing, he doesn’t blame you. Absolutely doesn’t blame you if you realize you’re better than this. But Yoongi’s at least gonna apologize in every single way he can. As soon as he possibly can. “We got it.”

“K.” The man finishes his glass and goes to pour more. “Did I ever mention that she liked you?”

Now what— Coughing on whisky is a bitch and a half. Hitting his chest while both eyes squint from burn, Yoongi croaks out his exact thoughts, “What.”

At this, his friend finally breaks into his regular smile. Setting the bottle down with a hollow clunk, he points, “Don’t you fucking get any ideas. Jimin’s already on my shit list.” He scoffs out a laugh. “But it was obvious when we were younger.”

And Yoongi can only cough some more. He shakes his head through the sting, swallowing and trying to compose himself. He doesn’t know where the hell that came from, but he hopes your brother will understand when all is said and done. Even though he’s been the reason you’ve been so…

Yoongi almost fucking confesses.

“You’re a good person,” he blurts instead. Whether the guilt or last cough pushed it out, that’s still on the table. “You don’t suck at what you think you do.”

“You think so?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

The hell? Does this dude really not see how successful he is? How much he’s overcome and conquered and sacrificed? Truthfully, Yoongi wouldn’t be where he is today if not for your brother. Him. Jimin. You. Anybody. Which is what makes this ongoing betrayal…

Unprecedented.

“You’re the best out of all of us.”

Your brother finally looks at him, though Yoongi isn’t doing the same. But he can still tell when a fist is held out for him to bump, so he does.

And they both share a drink in respectful silence.

After a moment of them watching the tv, the man finally sighs. “Guess we did shape up pretty nice.” When he’s agreed with, he keeps going with a grin. “We were so fucking bad.”

Yoongi can only chuckle, much better memories fighting off the terrors. “Old me was a little shit.”

“You still are.”

“Says you!”

“I still am, too!”

Laughs precede big swigs of whisky and comfortable quiet. Bit by bit, shoulders start to relax with the surrounding air, and Yoongi lazily releases tension in his neck.

After a few more pours, your brother decides to call it, using the bathroom before announcing that he’s gonna head out. Yoongi gets up from his chair to clasp hands goodbye, not expecting to hear one more plea,

“Break up with her, Yoong.”

Shit. He sighs, and their conversation continues from the dining table to the front door. “It’s not like that.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s over now.”

“For good?” As they stop beside the coat closet, your brother pins him with a look. “I was about to drive over and break down the door.”

Even though Yoongi shares a tsk with him, he can’t help but imagine what could’ve happened if that was the case. And it sends an unwanted jolt of chills.

“Serious. I’m gonna keep saying this, but. she was just making you miserable, dude.” He slips on his shoes, smacking his foot on the ground to push one in place. “I’m sure it was good at first, but I mean… You gotta move on. You deserve better than that.”

Anything would be better than that. Yoongi just disagrees with the whole deserving part. “I guess.”

“You sure it’s over?”

“Yeah,” he assures, because that is something he intends to keep true forever. “It is.”

“Good.” Keys jingling, your sibling then points into the open area with his whole arm, seven words leaving his mouth like ice,

“Then get rid of that fucking guitar.”

Ah. Among all the things. Of course he would bring that up, too. Jaw working, Yoongi looks away, now assaulted by all the torturous thoughts surrounding that painful reminder and fighting them off with no success.

Get rid of it? He’s been trying.

For three. Fucking. Months.

“I might.”

“…K.”

And his best friend departs, leaving Yoongi inside and staring at the same black spot he’s kept in the corner for years. It has mocked him as he struggles. Laughed at him whenever he’s tried to throw it out. And aside from the times he’s made you feel better stinging himself on those strings, he has accomplished nothing except letting it win.

Pissed off and doused in guilt, Yoongi yanks himself away from the door, the instrument, and everything else except for his bed.

Keeping his shadow exactly where it stands.

Yoongi knows he needs to talk to you.

But his phone exists somewhere on the other side of his bedroom door.

And he doesn’t have the strength to go get it.

What time is it?

All that greets him is darkness.

Nothing new, but darkness all the same.

Why was she mentioned? What does that mean?

He needs to call you. He’s lying to his best friend.

Her? You. His sheets still smell like you.

Inhale. Breathe. Inhale.

He needs to call you. But he’s so, so tired.

And the darkness pulls him back under.

Without even telling him the time.

Buzzing.

Faint, gentle buzzing softly lifts Yoongi’s eyelids before a loud series of smacks causes him to rush out of bed what the fuck?

Oh. His phone fell outside. Fucking hell, his heart’s beating way too quick for that to be the only thing that happened.

Head in his hands, Yoongi sighs deep before making his way to the dining table. And it takes all of his strength to bend down to reach for his phone.

Hustler: Missed Calls (6)

Dumbass: 1 Message

Hustler: 3 Messages

Chim: 7 Messages

Chim: Missed Calls (3)

Holy fuck.

With only the light of his phone illuminating the dark, Yoongi rings Jimin up. His heart’s a little disappointed it wasn’t you calling just now, but it’s probably best to stay away while his brain is so scattered and torn.

“Oh, fuck. There you are.”

“Mm.”

“Don’t scare me like that, bro. I was starting to get ready to drive over—”

“It’s fine,” he juts in. “What’s up.”

Alright, maybe he shouldn’t be an asshole. There’s no reason to let his lingering shadow from earlier control his temper now. Jimin’s just being himself, for fuck’s sake.

“I, umm. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

Now that’s not what Yoongi expected at all. “For what?”

There’s another pause on the line, and his reaction is immediate when he knows for a fact Jimin is fighting back tears.

“I… I got so drunk last night, I—And I—”

Shit. A sinking feeling starts to weigh Yoongi down, his center pulling the rest of him in like a black hole. And he doesn’t need to hear the rest of this to know what this call is about.

“He was looking for her, Yoong, and you weren’t there, either. He had this look, I—I couldn’t think of anything else to say in the moment and I told him—”

Jimin can’t even finish his confession. And it hits right in the gut.

Despite his perceived persona, Yoongi doesn’t like hearing people cry. At least, if they don’t deserve to or don’t deserve to be sad—or if they’re you. He could care less about the rest.

But Jimin is one of the only people that can get him like this: eyes stinging at their edges and his chest concave. In the dark, though, no one can tell. No one can see him.

So he can openly swipe at his eyes before dumping tired limbs into a chair, catching his forehead in a damp palm.

“I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”

Exhaling through his nose, Yoongi tries his best to calm his emotions. Because they are still raging and it’s going to take all of him to quell this tempest.

Jimin knows more than anyone what this means to him. To you. The time you spent apart? If it wasn’t for his friend, Yoongi may have been in a much different position. If this was the only thing Park could do, then his effort has to be acknowledged. It worked like a fucking charm.

But goddamn, Yoongi wishes Jimin thought of literally anything else. He could’ve made up some random, some fling from another city, the damn studio itself.

“Don’t worry about it,” he finally rasps out. “It’s just been a fuckin’ day.”

Jimin sniffles before cursing at himself and, judging by the sounds on the line, Yoongi figures he’s opening his fridge. If he reaches for soju, that would not be surprising in the least, and now that sounds like a good idea.

“Same. Gah, I just… I should’ve warned you. I didn’t know he went over there.”

“He told you?”

“I called him after you didn’t answer earlier.”

“Oh. Yeah, I passed out after he left.”

“Ah.”

Something shuts before there’s a crisp clink on the line, validating exactly what Yoongi was thinking.

“I really am sorry. What did you end up saying?”

“That it’s done.”

A hum.

“That’s very true.”

There’s a question that Yoongi thinks to ask. Context that he needs. But as important as this information is, Yoongi doesn’t feel like talking about it right now. Or ever. But now still counts. So he switches the conversation over to something less daunting, “Practice still on tomorrow?”

When Jimin laughs out of surprise, it gives Yoongi the smallest kick of energy.

“Ah, someone actually ready to go for once?”

“Yeah. The plan is to make this game quick.”

A hearty swallow spills out of the speaker before a hum follows,

“Mm, that reminds me. Got something that might help with that.”

What the hell does that even mean? “Huh?”

“I’ll bring it over tomorrow. You might find some good uses for it.”

Yoongi rubs the grogginess still clinging to his face. “All these years and you’ve never given me a straight answer.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Knowing the answer.”

At least Jimin’s back in a good mood. Or a better state than puffy-eyed and regretful. He doesn’t have to share the pain in this, too. It was an honest mistake.

“You’ll know it when you see it.”

“Annoying.”

“Love you, too!”

Yoongi’s huff billows through his nose, and Jimin’s energy almost brings enough strength for him to clear the table.

Ehh. He’ll leave it alone. He’s been pretty good at that lately, too, no matter how early or late it is in the night. What time even is it? Checking his phone, Yoongi’s brows crease when he figures that out. Why the hell are they even on a call right now? “Wait, is it really three?”

“Huh? Yeah. I’m telling you, dude, I was getting worried.”

He was really about to drive over? “Sorry. I really did just pass out.”

“Mm. Well, I’m gonna go do that now.”

“K. Same time tomorrow?”

“Ah, a little earlier. Just so I can give this to you before everyone else shows.”

That just makes Yoongi infinitely more curious. “Seriously, what did you get?”

“Relax! You will like it.”

“Chim, I swear—”

“You’ll thank me later bye!”

As soon as Jimin disappears from the line, Yoongi is left alone again.

Exactly where he always ends up.

Exactly where he doesn’t want to be.

But now that he’s done dealing with those notifications, Yoongi roams lidded eyes over his screen again.

Wait. You called him six times? Fuck. What did you text? Were you wondering where he was, too?

Hustler [20:01]: HOLY FUCK!! my phone died after i tried calling you this morning and i just fully woke up to charge it😭 he’s not home so call whenever

Yoongi clutches his phone a little tighter.

He very much would’ve rather been in your bed with you all day.

That sounds like fucking bliss.

Hustler [23:37]: tried calling but he’s home now. are you ok?? idk what’s going on with him but i think we need to be careful

Shit, Yoongi didn’t get to tell you. You’ve probably been worried about that every second you’ve been awake today.

And he couldn’t even make it out of his goddamn room to help.

All he comes with is worries for you. What kind of shit is this? What is he even doing? He even outright told you that you were dating only for that to be ripped from your hands for months. Why are you still giving someone like him a chance?

Hustler [23:40]: but all i wanna do is see you

Fucking hell.

Nothing in the world can stop his heartbeat quite like you can. With that smile, or those eyes, or the simple shit like this. Not even lightning can strike him the same way.

Despite the consistency Yoongi has with admitting his own shortcomings, and despite the way he keeps reminding himself he doesn’t deserve you…

All he wants to do is see you, too.

You’ve been more than he ever would’ve imagined—your consideration, your intellect, your mind. And there have been times when you’d look at him as if he was the center of your galaxy.

After all this time. All these days and nights.

You still don’t realize that he was destined to orbit you.

It’s been decided long before his mind was made up—at least, the part of him that doesn’t traverse the dark side. His heart had been tugging him to you ever since that rainy day, no matter where he’s drifted or which direction he’s gone in. All of them lead back into your arms.

But just like the feeling he gets walking into the recording booth, imposter syndrome eats him alive and doubt scavenges on what’s left.

He will never be good enough for you. One of these days, you will realize that you don’t have to settle for him. It’s good now, but you’ll only give him so many chances, which he is swiftly running through at breakneck speeds.

How fucking stupid. Having these thoughts while wanting nothing more than to hear your voice.

Just like everyone else, you’ll eventually be done passing through. His winter will return after your inevitable departure, all the warmth you give focused on something else that deserves it more.

Something that isn’t broken.

Yoongi whips his head up at the sound of buzzing, noticing thin lines of light beneath his phone on the table.

What. No way.

From the rapid beats inside his chest, he shoots his hopes right into the dark.

And they burst into beautiful sparks when he reads his screen.

Hustler: Incoming Call

But just like the streaks of color he witnessed with you on that balcony, his brightness is short lived. Because as soon as Yoongi answers, the way your throat constricts scorches his windpipe through.

And the first thing you attempt to get through makes his eyes shut tight.

“Are we… is this over?”

Fuck.

“I get it, if we are. If you—if you don’t wanna do this with me anymore.”

Fuck. Fuck everything this is not happening right now. “Hold up,” Yoongi breathes, body on full alert. “What’s going on?”

“I thought… When you weren’t picking up, I—”

“Breathe, babe,” Yoongi softens, hating, hating, hating himself all over again. “I passed out before you called. That’s it.”

“Oh. Shit, I really thought—”

“You would know,” he whooshes, syllables squeezed out by the mountain of regret on his back. After hearing what he put you through? Hearing how you sound now? There’s no way he can do that shit again. No more disappearing from the grid because he can’t fight himself. “You would know if I was done.”

Your sniffle sinks the ship with his heart inside.

“Are you? With me?”

Yoongi folds, fingers digging through his hair and blocking it in hard chunks. The amount of things he wants to say to you could wrap the whole world before repeating. But he settles with a truth he can say out loud,

“No way in hell, doll.”

Please. Don’t cry. Because he can only handle feeling his eyes sting so much in one night. There’s only so much he can take before he’s grabbing his keys and speeding over—friends and brothers be damned.

“Okay… I’m just. It’s been a day.”

That’s okay.

Because he’s had a day, too.

“I don’t wanna bother you with it, though, it’s so late.”

Please keep going.

Please don’t leave him alone.

“Talk to me.”

Like a gentle stream, your recap—though not ideal—washes away the weariness from Yoongi’s eyes. Lifts the weight he bears on his shoulders, even if just a little bit.

You’re so good at that.

“Well. Umm. He saw me coming home this morning. And, umm. It was weird. I don’t know why but I think we have to be really careful. And ugh, it—. It sucks because he’s going on a trip soon and I don’t wanna stress him out even more but I—”

Shit, you’ve probably been holding all of this in ever since you got up. You don’t know that your brother believes something entirely different. But of course you’d be considerate, even now. That’s just who you are.

“I, umm. I feel so fucking bad about it but I don’t wanna mess him up right now. Or maybe he knows but just won’t say it? Fuck, sorry, I’m trying not—to—”

The phone goes mute, and Yoongi’s head suddenly weighs ten times heavier.

“He doesn’t know, babe,” he soothes, hating how he can’t be there to comfort you with more than his word and waves in the sky.

If he was stronger, things could be different by now. Vastly different. Vastly better. You would cry less, he knows that for damn sure. Weak, weak, weak. That’s all he fucking is.

The only one he seems to be strong for is you. “He came over earlier.”

“Fuck, really?”

“Yeah.”

You pause, seemingly to roll this information around that beautiful mouth of yours, and Yoongi has the strongest yearning to kiss all your worries right out of it.

“What did he say?”

Shit. You’ll just have to forgive him later. Because Yoongi chooses not to tell the whole truth. You don’t need to bear the same worries as him, anyway. They aren’t yours. He will shoulder all of those on his own. Because he’s the reason for them in the first place. “Nothing about us.”

“Oh, thank fuck.”

Good. Your relief is all that matters. But Yoongi still feels bad for not being able to pick himself up. You could’ve known that a lot sooner if he was stronger. If he was better. “So don’t worry, doll.”

“Okay. What about you? Are you okay?”

Huh? Your questions catch him completely off-guard. It’s almost comical how his first reaction goes straight to a No. But sticking to his earlier stances, he won’t bother you with any of that. There is a truth that he can admit. One that’s always true and will continue to be so. “Just wanna see you.”

And this is when his eyes slowly shut. Don’t. Don’t cry.

“Me, too, baby.”

Hearing that? Chipped and broken from your lips? That is another thing Yoongi can’t handle. His heart beats once before it free falls, and he clutches his phone just a little tighter.

Fuck everything. He’s gonna find a way to do this. All of it.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You will?”

He’ll figure out how to move mountains to make it up to both you and your brother.

“Just a little longer.”

He has to.

“Okay.”

Neither of you deserve this. And he doesn’t deserve either of you. Truly, the only thing he deserves is to be alone. And judging by the way things are going, it’s only a matter of time before you start resenting this behavior and leave, too.

“Thank you.”

What? Something in Yoongi flickers, and he lifts his whole head to eye his screen.

“For putting up with me.”

Oh. Of course you’d assume you’re the issue. Seems like you need the same type of assurance that he does. Both of you the same? Who would’ve thought his bruised soul would sync up with a perfect one like yours.

At this, he holds his breath before chuckling soft. “This has been the highlight of my day, doll,” he admits, finally breaking into a tiny smile and sitting back.

“Really?”

Wait. There was another good part of his day. But he wants to save that for when he can tell you in person. “One of them. But you’ll hear about the other one later.”

“Boo.”

Cute. Wait, isn’t it absurdly late? You have to be up for work in mere hours. It’s a miracle you reached out when you did. “Don’t you have to be up soon?”

“A ha… Yeah.”

“What are you still talking to me for?”

“I miss you.”

Well. That’s not something that he expected. And your admittance being so immediate actually sends shivers down his arms.

Yoongi can only laugh to himself. He knew he had it bad, but this feeling is something else. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what? Miss you? Yeah, right.”

God. You’re getting too fucking good at this. He’s gotta fight back or else his throne will be taken before he even sees you again. “Just a bad night to say it, doll.”

“Why?”

Perfect. “Cus I’m willing to get in the car.”

“Fuck.”

Yoongi happily lets his mouth slant when you groan, chuckling into the receiver and getting up to clear the table. When he flicks on the kitchen light, he doubles down, “Wanna try again?”

He knows you’re gonna say no. Even though your brother doesn’t know, it’s definitely not a proper time to sneak you out—as much as he fucking wants to. Fuck, to be the one sneaking you out of your house… Maybe there’s another version of you both out there that’s done it. A version of him watching a version of you creeping out to his car, face shining in nightfall and etching a permanent smile into his heart.

“I hate you.”

Yoongi should’ve expected that. The sudden laugh that flings out into his liquor cabinet ricochets off multiple bottles, and he shuts it while sporting a wide grin. “That’s better.”

“Ha ha.”

You’re smiling, too. Cute ass. Just the fact that he knows makes him excited for the future, and he’s determined to make it count. Make it worth it. You deserve every goddamn apology he can give. “I miss you, too, babe,” he whispers, grabbing the glasses from the table to wash in his sink.

“Nu uh! You hate me, too.”

Wait. Did you…

Did you just pout?

Hell no, that’s outright cheating. That’s when Yoongi will never be able to win. Putting the phone down, he promptly states his new plan into a basin, “Nah, I’m going to sleep.”

“Wait, huh? Why!”

“Nothing.”

“I swear to god—”

“Nothing at all,” Yoongi lies, voice straight as he can muster while hot water runs over his hands. It’s a good kind of sting as his chilled skin adjusts, and he cleans one glass before he hears you ask in his ear,

“Getting ready for bed? Or are you in the kitchen?”

The smallest smile graces his face. “Guess.”

“Kitchen.”

The hell? “How’d you know?”

“You’re always in there.”

Can’t deny that. The glasses are both set to dry in the dishwasher as Yoongi’s amusement dies down, and his next comment flows out before he can think much of it, “You like to keep me in here.”

“It does seem to be where we end up, huh?”

“It does.” Which is fine by him. He’ll never forget all the times you’ve been in here. Your laughter and your storms, he will remember them all.

“The world said let them cook.”

Your giggles will be the fucking end of him one day. Fuck, he can’t wait to see you. He may even find a way to see you before the game.

But for now, Yoongi will figure out how to talk to you, every day, no matter what. Texts, calls, whatever the fuck. The effort has got to show from now on. No more of this dark headspace shit. He needs to try harder and figure it out faster. For you.

“Go to sleep, doll,” he huffs with full cheeks.

After another adorable batch of sounds, you rustle on the line before sighing,

“You better sleep, too.”

“I will.”

With a blink, Yoongi notices two things. One, he just cleared his table and cleaned up without even thinking. And two, despite feeling like absolute shit the entire day and dreading the coming of night, falling asleep won’t be an issue.

Because of you. It’s always you.

Maybe there’s a way out. Maybe he can finally face it all and come out on the other side. “Talk to you tomorrow, babe.”

“I’d like that. And you’re sure he doesn’t know?”

Just like that, the demons are knocking again. Closing his eyes, Yoongi murmurs into the receiver, “I’m sure.”

There will come a time when he will tell you. But that will be way in the future, when he is ready. For now, you’ll just have to trust that he’s telling the truth. Not the whole truth, but enough for it to calm your nerves.

“Okay. Good night, baby.”

One more heartbeat to get him through the night.

“Night, doll.”

When the phone cuts, Yoongi’s hand falls, his stare shifting straight to the living room.

Right towards the corner that stares back.

It’s been five days.

But it feels like you’ve aged twenty-eight years.

Ever since your brother confronted you—after your much needed reunion with his best friend—you’ve been floating through time. Lost. Confused. Wondering why that conversation went the way it did and gnawing at your sanity bit by bit.

And even though Yoongi explicitly told you he didn’t say anything concerning your relationship, you still haven’t shaken that feeling. No matter where you are, who you’re with, or on a pretty Friday like this one, you feel… Strange.

When you saw your brother waiting, you for sure thought you were gonna get grilled. It was a given you were gonna break as soon as he started asking deeper and more specific questions. The fallout was gonna happen in your own house right at your door.

…So what in the fuck was that?

You shift your legs, the chill of the office failing to comfort you in your manufactured, building distress.

Somehow, that version of the conversation proved much, much worse. Because now you’re spiraling trying to figure out why he just took your lie as the truth. Truthfully, you feel nauseous. And as much as you need to get some semblance of closure, you still feel hesitant. Because if he’s just biding time? He’s not just thinking about what to do with you.

He’s thinking about what to do with Yoongi, too.

This is so hard.

The only thing—the only thing—keeping you grounded. Is Yoongi himself.

Ever since the call you never thought he’d answer, you’ve been contacted every night. What was once days of radio silence quickly shifted to him reaching out however he could, hours of the day be damned. Just last night, in fact, Yoongi sent you texts at four in the morning, and you beam just thinking about what he said so casually.

Yoongi [3:57am]: That keyboard I told you about is fucking dope. Just got it today and it won’t let me sleep lmaooo

Yoongi [3:58am]: I was gonna say sorry for texting but fuck it you’re getting all the updates :)

No matter what it is, be it a text, call, or video chat, Yoongi seems fully committed and in the moment. Present. And it’s been… Really nice. If you didn’t have your brother’s shadow hovering over your brain, life would be practically perfect.

Forcing yourself to actually work, you manage to get some small things done. Even the meeting you attend goes smoothly and you leave any outside worries on the other side of those glass walls.

So when you get back to your desk, an awaiting paper bag makes you pause. And your whole body prepares to weep.

Only one person has ever sent you food while you’re at work. And staring inside the parcel, you would’ve been able to tell who it was from even if said person had never sent any before.

There’s a small note on top of a to-go container—one that you immediately recognize as that super good restaurant next to Jungkook’s studio.

What the hell? How did Yoongi know you wanted some this whole week but didn’t wanna risk being so close? With careful fingers, you pluck the tiny paper from the bag, opening it with care before your eyes get so teary eyed you can’t even read.

Tonight.

This man.

I got the next one.

This wonderful, charming man.

But you’re getting what I need so here’s the list:

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi.

Seeing an actual list of food squeezes a laugh through your throat in a squeak, tears rushing out of your ducts before they’re hastily swiped.

After five days. Yoongi really just sent you on a grocery run to surprise you with another meetup.

The gesture is so him that you cannot help but shake your head, ruefully huffing to no one and pocketing the note in your bag. And all your worries scatter even further.

A dinner before the big game is risky, for sure, but at this point you couldn’t care less. Your brother has his own work outing tonight, anyway, and you are dead set on breaking all of this to him soon.

Even though you are very much unprepared. And he is going to lose his fucking mind if he doesn’t know already. Fuck.

You’ve had all five days to think it over. All the possible combinations and possibilities and outcomes. Some of them are extreme, some of them are hopeful. But for a majority of these projections, you have a feeling that none of you are gonna leave it without wounds.

And you don’t know how you’re gonna save both of them if theirs are cut too deep.

Regardless, that’s in the future. Not now. Right now, you are staying in the present and working like molasses until you can jet out the door, nary a care nor concern weighing on your heels.

Tonight. He’s gonna cook for you?

You’ll have the first substantial meal you’ve had in months.

Even though you want nothing more than to see Yoongi, your nerves are still buzzing and bumping into each other nonstop. There’s a lot you still need to know. Like why he was radio silent for months, and why your brother has been a little weird this whole week.

Save it for later. Hopefully Yoongi will tell you why eventually. Or that gap will stay elusive to your brain forever.

Sliding into your car, you dump your bag in the passenger seat before pulling out the list, clutching it close and taking a leap that could either calm your nerves or spike them.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

When he picks up, you legitimately don’t answer. Because even after all this time, you still can’t quite function when you hear that deep voice addressing you directly.

“Hey.”

All you have to do is say something. Anything. You could rattle off the damn list, stumbling over all the syllables just like they’re currently smushed together in your fingers.

But you don’t snap out of this trance until he speaks again.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” you squeak out, clearing your throat while watching other people walk to their cars. “Hi, sorry. I just umm.”

You just what? Somehow lost all sense of language just from him saying hi? Get it together. Stop that racket in your stomach and say what you were gonna say. “Thank you for the food. I’m off work now so I’m heading to the store.”

He simply huffs a quiet laugh.

“Get whatever you want, too. Just let me know how much it is.”

Huh. Did Yoongi just say all those words in that order? If you heard him right, forget the damn food. You’re close to speeding directly to his place and breaking down the motherfucking door. “Oh, I definitely will,” you respond with instead of hauling ass, the words pushing through your lingering smile. “And don’t worry about that, I got it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah! I got big girl money now.”

Yoongi laughs again on the line, fuller and closer this time. Are you on speaker?

“It’s like that? Maybe I should work there, too.”

“Oh, you’d hate it,” you giggle, scheming hard in your head for tonight already. Pretty bubbles in your ribs lift all your spirits. “I’m actually pretty bossy here.”

The groan that seeps through your car should be illegal.

“That is literally what I’ve been wanting to see.”

It’s your turn to chuckle as you finally make your way out of the parking lot, heading right to the market that you know for a fact has all of what he’s asking for. “I’m only that way at work, though.”

“Do better.”

Your immediate response makes his laugh crunchy in the speakers, and you go along with him because life is good. Life is fucking great right now. “Never mind, you’re paying. And I’m getting stuff for dessert now, too.”

“What? Who said anything about dessert?”

“Me,” you huff out in pride. Since he wants to see that demanding side come out so bad. With a fleeting thought, you think about what it could be like if you end up confident enough to—

“I’m starting to regret this.”

“Regret what?”

“Everything.”

Liar! Your cheeks hurt as you look both ways before making a turn. “Can’t fool me. You’re excited.”

“I am.”

The way there was no hesitation sends shivers up your spine. But it’s partly because you thought you’d be faced with another joke or dig. Not a sudden one-eighty. Stopping at a light, you clear your throat before shyness puffs right out of it. “Well, good,” you state while checking your mirrors. “Cus I am, too.”

“That’s a given, though.”

“Excuse you.”

Yoongi laughs before you hear the sound of cabinets, and you wonder which ones he could be touching.

“Mm, babe. One more thing.”

Can he stop making your heart beat two times at once? “Hmm?”

There’s a little bit of pause, followed by the clank of a pan on metal. When you hear another hum, you wonder what he could possibly—

“I think we’re out of condoms.”

Who is out of what. If you weren’t still at a red, your foot would’ve slammed on the gas because what the fuck! All you can manage out are sounds without substance, random syllables, gibberish. Nothing is computing in your head.

“Wait. Or are we?”

Okay, Yoongi needs to stop with that two-letter word before your behavior turns downright criminal. With as much seriousness as you can manage, you accuse, “Are you just fucking with me?”

And his response launches you forward just as the light turns green,

“Yeah. That’s why we’re out of—”

“Alright!” you cut in, stopping stopping stopping him because for whatever reason, this conversation is too much. Despite seeing this very man naked in many, many ways, just having this talk with him is making you shier than ever before. “Guess I’ll, umm. Get those, too.”

“Nah, you don’t have to.”

“Oh. Found some?”

“No.”

Wait. If he didn’t find some why is he telling you that you don’t have to— “Oh,” you peep in realization. A very sudden, jaw dropping realization. “Goddamn it, you’re too distracting now, bye.”

And he finally breaks with laughter that’s contagious as hell. Which isn’t fair when you’re pretending to be upset with him. Even when you can’t see Yoongi, you can imagine the way his cheeks rise and his eyes crease. The way the whole room illuminates when he’s packed with happiness.

And you want that to be the case forever.

“You’re just lucky I’m not there with you.”

“Yeah, you’d be annoying as hell.”

“Damn!”

As the market comes into view, your teeth shine as you grin, roasting this man quickly becoming one of your favorite pastimes.

“To be fair,” you start to amend, fingers drumming on the wheel as you decide whether or not to say what you want. After deciding that there’s no wrong answer here, you softly admit, “I really do wanna get groceries with you.”

There’s no words that come out in response. Only the slight movements of shuffling and water running and what could be more cabinets closing. But you don’t really know for sure—

“It’s gonna happen, doll.”

You clutch the wheel.

“Cus I want that, too.”

One of these days you’re gonna see this damn cat again.

Foot connecting with Yoongi’s door, you grunt as multiple bags burden your limbs, pride digging divots along your arms—second trips be damned.

It doesn’t take long for him to let you in anyway, and you swoon at the way he doesn’t even ask while taking some of your baggage. But the kiss on your cheek makes your heart bang into everything between the front door and the kitchen. It’s so distracting that you barely smell the spices greeting you, too.

“Thanks for getting all this,” Yoongi says as you both cross onto tile.

“Of course.” Lifting the much lighter load that you have, you revel in the small thumps and thuds on his counter. Not really knowing why. “Let’s put this up before I yell at you.”

His laugh comes out in hisses while you both start reaching into bags. “For what!”

“Sent me everywhere to find some of this shit.”

“You could’ve asked somebody.”

Feeling a bit silly and high off his presence already, you repeat his words in a goofy mocking tone, and the way he blows out air sends your belly fluttering.

And just like that, things are back to normal again. No worries about your sibling, or work, or anything else looming by the door. Inside is what matters, and the whole apartment fills with jabs and jokes as groceries find their homes.

But Yoongi finds a bag you had separated from the rest, and you snap your mouth shut when he looks inside, something rising in your core when he turns to you with an eyebrow raised. And a smirk so salacious it makes you quiver.

“What about it,” you squeak out, crumbling when he simply takes the bag and flings it through his bedroom door. “You said you—we were out, so…”

“That’s a big box, doll,” he points out on his way to your tightly bitten lip. Mouth slicing through your sanity, he approaches you with a glint in his eyes. “Got something you wanna say?”

“Nope,” you whoosh out oh god he looks way too hot in those sweats wait is that a growing bulge? “Although I will say it took me forever to pick out what—”

Sparks ignite your hands when your lips are claimed, launching them into his shirt and tugging him backward because you’ve been waiting way too long to kiss the shit out of him.

And Yoongi responds in kind, pinning you to his fridge and so, very obvious that he’s been waiting for this, too.

Heaven probably wonders how to replicate this feeling. How to imitate this treasured yearning that only he can pull from the depths of your ocean. Deep, deeper, deepest. All these kisses. Your ascending affection.

“As much as I wanna throw you on my bed,” Yoongi jokes, pulling away and giving your cheek a light tap. “I’m taking you somewhere.”

And you’re so thrown from the impact that your brain mini-resets. “Huh? We’re leaving?”

“Uh huh.”

Hold on. Wait. Is this what he meant when he said he’s getting the next one? You’re going out to eat? Together? No. No, there’s no way. Yoongi knows that’s the worst possible thing to do right now, as much as the idea is sending your belly in a frenzy. “Are you sure? What about dinner? Won’t people… You know.”

“It’s ready already,” he reveals. “By the door.”

Your head snaps to where he points out, even though you can’t see through the bar. “Really?” No wonder it smells like a cooking aftermath. All those smells twirling around your head. How did you not even catch the dishes in the sink?

But hold up, you just bought a shit ton of food! “Then what the hell was the run for?”

Yoongi blinks. Then he does it again. Expression stone still, he responds as if you were privy to his plans this entire time, “I told you to get what I needed.”

Your turn to blink.

“And I needed food.”

This man is going to be the death of you. Affronted, your jaw hangs before you grit through a smile that betrays you, “Oh, you—”

“So thanks,” he quips through another tilt of his lips. “Let’s go, doll.”

The begrudged sound that leaves you makes him kick his head back on the way out the kitchen.

“Eat.”

The container on your thighs warms you through. “Now?”

“Mm.”

“I can wait,” you assure, watching as night paints the surrounding scenery in navy and black. “We can eat together.”

“Just a bite then.”

Turning to Yoongi, you don’t see a change in his face as he eyes the road. The veins in his arm catch all the streetlight, and you gulp before your gaze falls to what he made. Music fills the car, and you decide that maybe you do feel a little hungry. So you listen to instruction, popping it open and being careful as you pluck a piece to try.

There’s no denying it. This motherfucker is a chef. “Fuck, this is good.”

Your borderline moan sends Yoongi’s shoulders bobbing, and you will never get over those low, gravelly laughs. “Sorry.” Your hand hovers over your mouth in embarrassment. “I don’t react like that unless I’m alone.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, well,” you swallow. “Course you don’t.”

A tiny peek of teeth show as Yoongi smiles, and you don’t expect what he offers next, “Just be you, doll. It’s just me.”

The next bite of food pauses on the way to your mouth. “Oh,” you murmur. “Same for you then.”

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

“Cus we wouldn’t make it to where we’re going.”

That was legitimately the worst time to put food in your mouth. Sputtering, your words come out low and chortled, “You fucker.”

His hisses are brief before he dips into silence again. As he slowly turns the wheel, you can see a glimpse of something deep in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly apologizes, swallowing as you keep your gaze.

What is that look? Weren’t you both just having a good time? “For what, baby?”

“Everything.”

Your lungs flinch. This is definitely not what you expected to hear on the way to wherever the hell you’re going. “Oh.”

Yoongi still doesn’t look your way, and with each pass of a light over his face, you catch quick snapshots of those eyes you’re still so shy of. “I, umm. I didn’t expect shit to pan out this way.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper.

After a slow motion of disagreement, his head falls forward just a bit. And your eyes find his hand clutching the gear shift in what you sadly think is frustration. “I’ve just thought about some things,” he starts, another song playing. “How worried you must’ve been.”

You look forward. Because this is the part where you can’t face him. “I was. But not for the same reason as last time.” Without a hesitation of your own, your palm reaches between your seats. And you can tell Yoongi watches as you take his hand to hold.

“I was worried about you,” you correct with softness. “It was hard because I didn’t know what to do.” Don’t fucking cry. You filled quite a few buckets already. “When you started not really saying much, I just… Hoped it was for a good reason, so. Yeah.”

You feel your hand gently pulled, which is already enough to make you melt. But when it’s kissed, you don’t know what the hell to fucking do.

“I’m sorry, doll,” Yoongi whispers into your skin, lips brushing with every syllable and painting a canvas of his reconcile. “I won’t leave you hanging like that again.”

There’s a tiny fire in the back of your throat, the embers reaching your eyes just a little too aggressively. You attempt to squash the growing flames before they flare. “Oh. Umm. Thank you.” What else do you say? Yoongi’s being wonderful, but why do you feel… sad? Why is there lingering snow on your windowsill? “Were you worried?”

“Me? Umm.” He stops at a light that he clearly didn’t want to stop at. Resting your conjoined hands on his pliant thigh, his jaw works as he observes them.

And you wonder if he thinks they slot together perfectly, too.

“…Yeah.”

Fuck. “About what?”

“That you’d hate me.”

Your heart meshes his fingers with yours. “Yoongi.”

“Or that you shouldn’t be with someone that’s gone this much.”

Fuck, he’s doing it again. Regressing. You’ve seen it happen in his kitchen and you’ll be damned if all that work, all that peeling, all that resolution amounted to nothing wait, wait, stop. This isn’t gonna be an overnight fix. And you have no clue what’s been happening, so just keep trying, trying, trying.

“I’m used to people leaving,” you joke, but not really. “Like seasons.”

He whips his head to you, and you backpedal because that probably sounded so random. You’ve got to think about filtering your thoughts a little more now that you’re getting comfortable. Yoongi says you can be yourself, sure, but you have to admit your quirks are a little out there. “I know it’s weird, but..”

He’s quiet as the light turns green. And when you don’t finish, he admits, “I think the same.”

“You do?”

Your hand is brushed as a hum peppers it from above. “Mmhmm.”

“Well.” That’s interesting. You didn’t know anyone thought about that stuff like you did. Now you wonder if there’s anywhere else your wavelengths sync, and if they’ve been syncing up all this time. “At least you come back.”

Yoongi squeezes your hand tight before he holds it against his lips. Again. Fuck, this is a lot. You’re so wrapped up in his gesture that you don’t catch what he whispers.

“Hmm?”

He glances at the center console before putting your hand back on his thigh.

“Always, doll.”

And the fire you stepped on rages back with a vengeance. Heat and sting surrounds your eyes, and you don’t hide how you press your feelings into his skin. “Me, too.”

If you weren’t lost in the surrounding scenery outside, you would have caught Yoongi’s look. But all you feel is his hand clutching you tight, and it breaks you down all the same.

The rest of the drive is spent with him telling you to eat more, and a bunch of your sing-alongs to almost every song that comes on. It seems like the tiny bit of closure opened you both up, and you don’t even realize that you’ve been on the road for a really long time.

But finally, Yoongi pulls up to a building, and you’re haphazardly rapping along to a song before you notice. Wait. What? He drove you to a rec center?

Your fingers curl around his forearm before you even notice. “What’s this?”

“Where we’re going.”

Hold on, you’re going inside? “Are we even allowed to be here?”

When Yoongi responds, his teeth make you shiver as he smirks. “Can’t say for sure, no.”

“Then why—”

He unlocks before you can finish, and you’re left in an empty car until he rounds the hood, coming over to your side and opening the door. You almost don’t hear what he says next, too focused on the jewelry swinging from his neck as he bends forward.

But you catch it, and glance once more at the sight in front of you before biting your lip—in nervousness or excitement, you can’t decide.

“You comin’?”

Damn. Obviously, you want nothing more than to see him here. And it’s much too late for anyone to be around. But if something happens… Whatever.

Your mouth finally unsticks. “If we get caught, you’re gonna pay for this.”

And you can’t resist his stupid grin. “Now get your pretty ass out before I put you in the back.”

“Yoongi!”

Grinning, he leads you out, and you follow him to the trunk. After bouncing his stowed ball a couple times, he decides to lean in and reach for something else.

Wait. Is that what you think it is? “Did you always have that in there?” you ask, pointing to the contraption that Yoongi’s using to air up his basketball.

And he does a horrible job at suppressing a smile. Which makes you burst into flutters and beats beats beats. “You liar!” Oh, you are gonna wipe those laughs from his throat. “I had to change up my plans because of you!”

Palming the ball, Yoongi tilts his head dangerously to one side. “And I got to see you,” he proudly claims. “So I’ll take it.”

You hate how the memories come packaged with what’s haunted you. What else happened during that time, and what happened after you left. But there’s no way you’re gonna bring that up. Not when the night has transformed into something so magical.

So you just clutch your food and lean on his car, opting to compliment him to wipe the murk away. “Got to see you, too,” you puff into the brisk night. Because you harbor a bit of nostalgia in your bones. And because he still makes you shy. “You and your stupid hair.”

Another bout of hisses wisp into your side. As you turn to regard Yoongi again, he slips his chains into his hoodie before continuing, and you swoon at the veins popping out of his skin with each pump.

How can he look so perfect doing the simplest things? So unfair.

After seconds that feel like an hour, Yoongi’s done. And he scans the parking lot before telling you to follow him.

What you expect is some outdoor courts. Maybe getting past a gate or two. So when you approach a back door lit by the shine of a single light, you freeze. “Are we really going in?”

Fishing something out of his pocket, Yoongi simply turns over his shoulder. “Yeah. Why not?”

“Oh.” You didn’t think you’d actually get inside the building. If there was an outside court just as accessible it would’ve made sense. Can you even bring food in here? Is that question even relevant? “No reason.”

“So I shouldn’t bust in?”

Huh. “What?”

“I’ve already done it a few times, so.”

“Wait!” Nerves throw your hand on his bicep before you can stop. “What if someone sees us?”

He’s so warm. And so toned. And if he plans on taking his hoodie off? You’re not prepared for whatever the hell he has underneath.

Voice softened, Yoongi tries to placate your paranoia, “They won’t, doll.”

“Are you sure? If we get caught here they’re gonna call the police and I am definitely not… Gonna…”

The object in his hand jangles, and you clearly see he was just joking the whole time because keys—keys—stare you in the face.

What is it with him and keys?

When Yoongi speaks, you feel like you’ve never done anything bad in your life, and suddenly the thought of trespassing with an official way in is so scandalous,

“You picked the wrong night to be a good girl.”

You have to admit. Seeing him so mischievous and dashing makes you wanna follow him wherever the hell he goes. Even if it gets you in trouble. Even if you were breaking in tonight, you would be all in. And that thought should frighten you, but it only does because of the wings tickling your rib cage.

How can he make you feel rebellious and yet still so shy? The power of Min Yoongi. He’s way too good at destroying you.

When you glare, the man only grins, hisses of laughter leaving him way too happily before he unlocks the door to no alarms or sirens. He doesn’t need to throw a wink your way, too, but of course he does as he lets you in. Which causes you to float through the dark entryway instead of walk oh he did not just slap your ass!

A jolt in your cunt causes you to regard him in shock. To which he hums in a feigned question. “Hmm?”

With nothing but darkness and his cologne surrounding you, it’s only natural that giddiness takes hold. Truthfully, you’re packed with so much adrenaline that you feel a little wild yourself. “You’ve been waiting to do that, huh.”

“So fucking long.”

You are not surviving the night. And you don’t give a single shit.

But as shy and out of control as you feel around this man, you also feel safe—even in a faraway, dark building that you’ve never been in before. That’s gotta say something about him, right?

Yoongi feels along the wall beside you for lights, purposefully bumping your chest with his front even though he’s securing a ball with an arm. When you question his joking decision with noises, a chaste kiss on your lips shuts you right up.

“You’re in the way,” he jokes through what you think is a smile, and you’re about to move when he flicks on a switch very far away from your shoulder.

Liar! Your jaw drop must be comical because Yoongi’s grin stretches astronomically wide. But you cannot find a retort because seeing him so chill while you’re stiff from paranoia has you at a loss.

Is this how he used to be all the time? This carefree, all caution to the wind? He’s so fucking handsome like this. No wonder he’s pulled so many hearts just like yours.

When you still don’t find any words to say, Yoongi makes it harder, stepping so close that you have to swing the plastic container away. Taking one of your hands in his free one, he gives it a warm squeeze while murmuring,

“You’re so cute.”

“How,” you ask just as softly.

And Yoongi responds with lights in his eyes. “Just are.”

Your lips mesh with his as he keeps your fingers secured, and suddenly every cautious thing in your body gets launched into the skies, too.

But it ends as soon as it begins. And Yoongi backs away from you with a smile,

“Eat.”

“Huh?”

“Eat, doll,” he orders before turning and dribbling onto the court.

When you call out that he hasn’t eaten yet, Yoongi tells you that he already did. When you look around to figure out where to even sit, you decide on the closest set of bleachers and make yourself as comfortable as you can.

Which is impossible. Because they’re bleachers. Which is now triple impossible. Because Yoongi just shucked off his hoodie and the only thing he had under it was his chains goddamn it.

If you weren’t already sitting down you would’ve fallen right into the next dimension. How the fuck are you supposed to eat in these conditions shit he’s walking over!

Your throat seizes as Yoongi approaches, face trained as if he isn’t aware of his overwhelming presence. All he does is bend to place his sweater next to your legs. But the quick smooch on your lips makes you swoon harder than you ever have.

And the way his silver taps your chest makes you mentally hold on for dear life. Wait. What the fuck, Yoongi’s taking them off right now? Right in front of you? Just as you're supposed to eat oh okay he’s handing them to you great wonderful fantastic.

The metal links feel so warm yet slightly cold to the touch. Weighty, yet light. But you clutch them in your hand as you connect a gaze to his.

“Relax,” he orders, lightly slapping the side of your thigh. “No need to worry.”

And with bangs swishing, he goes right back to the ball waiting for him. Leaving you starry-eyed to hell with silver in your palm.

…Did all of that just happen? Is any of this even real? Quite frankly, you fucking forgot what you were even worried about.

No matter what he does—simple lay-ups standing in place, dribbling to different spots to shoot, or even lazily jogging after the ball—you’re so enthralled with his actions that you forget that you’re not supposed to be here.

And it takes your last bite of food for something to finally hit you. How does Yoongi have keys to this place? Where the hell did he score those because you don’t think he ever mentioned anything about working here. Or anywhere else other than the studio.

Yet another mystery to add to this walking, bare-chested enigma.

But there’s another question forming behind your eyes the longer you watch him practice, the more you notice how he’s actually going hard. Yoongi’s really good right now. A lot better than what you’ve seen of him before.

Has he been coming here more often than he’s let on? And why does he look so… serious? You’d be surprised if he even remembered you’re here.

Setting your empty container down, you gather the chains in your hands again, deciding to slip them over your head for safer keeping. After, you grab a water before stepping down the bleachers, hanging a little ways away until Yoongi notices you’re courtside.

And when he sees you, he stops practicing immediately, jogging to you so sweaty and shining and gross and handsome and— “Wait, you’re all swea—”

You’re pulled into a kiss the same time you hear a basketball drop, salt on your tongue and damp palms on your cheeks. And you melt right into the shiny wood floor, drifting, drifting, sailing into dreamland even though you’re technically already there.

“Sweaty,” you whisper into his hot breaths of exertion, a twinge between your legs when he kisses you even deeper—breathing, inhaling, taking you in. “Gross.”

“Thanks.”

You flash a smile against Yoongi’s lips, giggling because this is all better than anything your brain could’ve conjured on its own. When you ask why he’s going so hard, all you get is a question in return,

“You’re perfect, you know that?”

Huh? Blinking, you suddenly don’t remember your own train of thought. “What did I do?”

“Nothing.” He presses a wet mouth to your nose. “Did you eat?”

Laughing, you reassure him, “I did, I did.”

“Good. You bored?”

“Huh?”

Yoongi leans to softly take your lips this time, and you want to say he’s approaching the legal limit for kisses tonight. “Thought you came over cus you wanna leave.”

“And stop seeing you play? I could watch this forever.” You squeeze the water bottle a little tighter. “Just checking on you.” Another strike hits between your legs when Yoongi takes another, lazier glide over your mouth, and you sigh when he tugs you forward by your bottoms, fingers slick from use.

You could do this for eternity, too.

“Well I got about five more minutes in me, so..”

This man.

“Forever might be a stretch.”

“Ah, shut up. Here,” you offer through a giggle, holding the water out for him to take.

“Thanks.” When he does, he tilts his head at just the right angle to cut you through, gulping down liquid and making you do the same to your nothingness.

So unfair. “You looked like you were going pretty hard.”

Lowering the bottle, Yoongi shifts his jaw before taunting something a ways off. “I kinda was.”

“It was kinda hot.”

His laugh makes you smile, and his next swig makes you weep. “Nah, but. This is our practice gym. I can just zone out here, so. It’s been one of those things.”

Ah. Was this one of the places Yoongi ended up during those months apart? You wish he could’ve brought you along sometimes. Or at least thought about asking. It’s nice just to be around him while he does something he likes. Gaining courage, you say exactly what’s on your mind, “You can always bring me, too. If you want.”

And it’s true. You don’t really have to do much when you’re with him, because just being around him is what brightens your day. Lifts your mood.

But you have to admit that watching him play basketball while shirtless is the biggest fucking win in history.

When did Yoongi get so close? When did his eyes retreat so far away? “I didn’t wanna bother you with this,” he admits, a drop of sweat clinging onto his chin. “I don’t even put music on.”

“You never bother me,” you whisper back. Hoping that he believes you and that he will start to accept that as fact. Because it is. “Even if you’re being annoying.”

The bottle crinkles as he smiles, and there’s a soft kiss to your lips that has no real desire behind it. Just a nice peck that sends you careening down a hill of flowers. “You won’t be feeling that way tomorrow, babe.”

“And why is that?”

“Cus of what I’m wearing.”

And he says that while half-naked? Like any look on him could get any worse. “Oh,” you scoff out, fully calling his bluff. “As if.”

Well, fuck. You don’t enjoy the smirk plastered on his face. It has you both dreading and excited for whatever demon you’re gonna run into tomorrow. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shrugs as he starts to hand the water back. “We can go soon, by the way.”

“Okay.”

But before you can grab it, Yoongi pulls the bottle from reach. “Unless,” he teases. “You wanna play me.”

“What.”

His grin shines, face glistening and turning your insides to jelly. “You told me you’d win, so. Let’s see it.”

You said that? While sober? How does he remember something like that when you can’t even recall a time or place you’d tell him something so bold. “When!”

“Right after you woke up once. Said you’re a master?”

Oh. That was ages ago. Fuck, you already forgot how did Yoongi remember?

“Oh. Well.” Your nose turns up in feigned haughtiness. “Wouldn’t wanna throw you off your game before a championship.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’d make you cry what the fuck!”

Water spills down your head in rivulets as you freeze, stunned and watching Yoongi jogging his laughs back to the bleachers like a punk. “Think you got something on your face, doll.”

“Yoongi!” What the hell possessed him to do that to you here? Racing after him with purpose, you slam into him just as he reaches for another bottle, shoving a laugh out of his throat and making him catch himself on hardwood. “Nu uh, gimme that!”

“It’s mine, I just ran out—”

“Bitch!” You lunge for another bottle lying further away, distancing yourself to quickly rip the cap off and to avoid feeling his slick back on your hands.

And it’s a lawless gym as both of you start spraying water, arcs and splashes of bottled liquid spewing over the court and soaking into your clothes and his bare skin. Which proves to get worse and worse for your wellbeing the more he gets soaked in your attacks.

Running ends up being the only option to avoid getting completely drenched, and you hightail it behind bleachers before your waist is grabbed. “Fuck!”

“Uh huh.”

You try to wrestle out of his hold, his wet forearm digging lovely into your stomach, and you’re temporarily let go just so Yoongi can spin you around.

Your back connects with solid wall, the impact shooting a grunt out of your throat before you laugh out of pure disbelief. “I can’t believe, you got me to do that,” you rush out, sentence punctuated by your breaths more than anything else.

Here you are. Under bleachers. With Yoongi’s skin caging you with radiating heat.

You can only stare as he drinks you in, no doubt looking at his silver around your neck and your chest heaving from exertion. Butterflies float across your stomach when his smile drips, and you fold as soon as he swoops in.

Everything in your being pulses hard. It’s so visceral that you teeter on the edge of sanity and logic, and the thoughts slipping through your mind are just as wild as you feel. Before you’re even aware of it, a mischievous finger slides along the hem of his shorts, and you jump at the downright boulders rolling down your front,

“Careful, doll.”

“Hmm?” You feel bad. And it feels fantastic. “What was that?”

More gravel slides down his tongue, and you shake at his attractive as fuck threat, “Fuck around and find out then.”

Your giggles add feather lightness into his murky laughs, but you’re so preoccupied that you don’t notice his hand between your legs until he slaps the inside of your thigh. “Yoo—!”

“Unless.” He leans forward. “My baby’s too scared.”

Holy fuck, you might be. Is he really willing to do something with you? In a public place very similar to where you’re gonna watch him play tomorrow? You don’t know why the fuck that’s attractive as hell, but it is.

Yoongi grips your chin, eyes falling to your lips and brows knitted before claiming your lips even harder. And despite your bones vibrating to hell, you put your all into the kiss, relishing in the growing hardness you feel against your front. An animal starts to wake inside your core, and you almost feel like stroking it. Feeding it. Raising it only for it to consume you in return.

“Fuck it, we’re leaving.”

“Huh?” Dazed, you let your vision refocus as Yoongi chuckles at your hazy state.

“Fuck this. I’m taking you home.”

For some reason, the game makes you nervous today. Even while Taehyung strides into the gymnasium with you, there’s a lingering feeling swelling in your stomach, and you don’t have any reason for it yet.

At least this is another rec center entirely. Because there’s no way you would’ve sat still knowing you had a clandestine meeting in the same place not even twenty-four hours before.

But the activity already bustling around hardwood catches your attention. Not on both sides, since only one team is here, but they are active on the other end doing drills.

Wow. They look really intimidating, matching jerseys that were clearly done professionally and warm-ups having a set routine. You wonder if this is gonna be a tough game for… Wait. That’s your brother under the basket. That’s them?

Fucking hell, Yoongi was right.

Because you’ll already never get over how attractive he looks in athletic clothes.

But team jerseys?

Seeing this man rock a basketball uniform with his toned arms and legs so visible makes you want to claw your way out of your invisible cage.

When the hell did they even get those? And why is he already slightly drenched during the warm-up alone?

As soon as you see him make a lay-up, you know for a fact that you shouldn’t be here.

Yes, you’re gonna stay and yes, you’re gonna cheer for them all game. But you are absolutely gonna feel like jumping him, which will in turn make you wanna bolt and run all the way out of town every agonizing second.

Shit, shit, shit. You’re gonna have to try your damned hardest to unstick your eyes from that man the whole time. Already, you can hear Taehyung’s teasing, and your groan is to lament your future state.

Your name suddenly rings across the gym, and four feet pause in your ascent up the bleachers. When you catch both him and Jimin waving you down from their courtside chairs, you tilt your head in intrigue.

They want you to come over there? What the hell is this about?

Sighing, you turn. “Guess I’ll go see what they want.”

“Here,” Tae offers his hand. “I’ll save you a seat.”

Your bag is transferred to his grip while you nod, and you step down onto the court, wondering if you’re even allowed to walk onto it to see them. And Jimin’s grin can be seen from miles away. “Come here!”

You gingerly step onto shiny wooden floors, making your way over and becoming hyper aware that someone else notices your presence. But you’re so puzzled as to why there’s no one on the other side of the court yet because isn’t the game about to start?

Where’s the other team? As you approach their row of chairs, your hands immediately find your hips. “What’s up?”

Jimin’s eyes stay creased as your brother explains the reason he waved you down. A very stupid, very innocuous reason. “Can you keep score?”

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why me?”

Your brother uses his jersey to wipe sweat from his brow, and you wince at the brand new material getting gross already. “The girl that usually does it for us is sick.”

“And you know the game,” Jimin quickly tacks on, rubbing at some tattoos on full display. Wait, are there more than you remember? When did he get more ink?

Your sibling asks another question you had in mind, “You aren’t gonna cover those?”

“Nah. Not today,” the man elongates in a stretch. “Just got another one. This one!”

Ah, you were right. “I like it.”

Jimin couldn’t look more proud. But enough of that because you really just wanna go back and observe the game from another place entirely. “Can’t y’all find someone else to keep score?”

“We don’t think anyone else can,” your brother explains, looking over your shoulder. “At least, not the people coming to watch us.”

Cool. You get to be met with heat and sweat from all these guys without compensation. How is this something you would say yes to? “Well. I don’t really feel like being a scorekeeper for free.”

When your sibling laughs with Jimin, they share a look before he says so matter-of-factly, “Told you.”

You’re sticking with that. If you’re gonna sit next to a bunch of smelly people, they’re gonna pay… you… somehow.

A ways down the row, you catch Yoongi dumping himself onto a random chair, head tilted back before he hangs it forward to wipe sweat from his forehead.

And suddenly this temporary gig doesn’t seem terrible in the slightest.

Because one, you can sit on a team bench that will have his fine ass right there. And two, this will give you a way to objectively focus on the game. You won’t have time to be distracted by a demon and his hair that’s gotten criminally long.

“I’ll get us all dinner,” your sibling slices through your thoughts. “After we win.”

“Fine,” you sigh, taking the end seat and shooting one more glance to the other side of the court. “Then I get to p—”

The air around you squeezes inward. And all sounds plunge underwater.

Because you recognize someone you knew from a dark club walking onto the court, his team looking just as sharp and cocky as his eyes.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You don’t notice the way Jimin’s hands flex, nor the way a familiar presence walks up to join your brother.

All you can do is stare back.

And without even realizing.

You’re already rubbing your arm.

tbc. :((

a ha ha... so how do we feel? | taglist | discord!

a/n: okay, hello, loves. apologies this part took so damn long to post! can you imagine if i tried to post everything at once LMAOO yikes talk about too much at once. but i hope this part was enough to still be good on its own, and broken, pt. 2 will be... well. you can probably guess that's where a majority of my brainpower is going to go. a/n 2: thank you all for being here! it's been an amazing two years working on this series and i cannot tell you how grateful and appreciative i am to have such wonderful people alongside me. i hope this series continues to be there for you when you need it, bc it has become that for me, too. ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

#ITS FINALLY HEREEE #SHEESH #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts reactions #filter for fics:#*ryenfictalk #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #three tangerines #3tan11 #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #btsfic #*latest #ryenwrites

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sunkissedchld · 8 months

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𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

this is my first astro observations post, so please be kind!

shout out to @faiirina and @cloudwaeve for helping me to develop some of these theories 💛

⟡ this might have been stated before, but the degree your sun sign is at could be the age at which you start to connect with it or the traits associated with it

for example, i have sagittarius sun at 19°. at nineteen years old, i went away from home on my own for the first time (travel). i also expanded my learning by going to college, and i delved deeper into spirituality.

⟡ taurus rules over the ears and second house, so it’s only natural placements relating to it could explain our hearing! your second house sign could explain how or why you like to listen to music.

i have virgo in the 2H and noticed that i like to listen to music with headphones because i can hear the intricacies of the instruments and harmonies better. cancer 2H — likes listening to music that coincides with their emotions. might be more reserved when sharing their music tastes scorpio 2H — could listen to indie/underground music. might like to listen to songs on low volume. the type to eavesdrop of conversations while listening. aries 2H — prefers listening to their music over a speaker. the type to have a workout or hype playlist.

⟡ the planet right before your sun sign is called your guiding planet. this planet could explain what’s important to you in life or what “guides” you as a person.

i have pluto as my guiding planet and have always been fascinated by the idea of transformations. i look to transform myself regularly whether it’s through looks or even spiritually! i’m always searching for ways to become a better version of myself through this. i may do a longer post explaining the effects of one’s guiding planet 👀

⟡ this isn’t inherently astrology related, but for every person i’ve asked - their favorite number and the number of letters they have in their name tends to line up

my favorite number is 3 — i have only 3 letters in my first and middle name person two’s favorite number is 4 — their name has only 4 letters person three’s favorite number is 16 - their first and last name adds up to 16 i’ve also discovered that this number tends to somewhat align with one’s north node or explain one’s life purpose or where in life you need to learn to deal with something. again, my favorite number is 3, but my north node is in gemini in the 11H. the 3H deals with communication and according to my north node, i’m supposed to learn how to use my voice to both stand out in my uniqueness but also conform with society in order to speak for the collective.

⟡ the twelfth house governs what’s hidden - like emotions and beings without a physical form, so the sign in your twelfth house could explain how easy or difficult it is for you to pick up on energies.

i have cancer in my 12H along with jupiter, so it’s very easy for me to pick up on different energies; in fact, sometimes i attract different energies to my own without even knowing about it! leo 12H — you may be more confident in when you pick up energies, so in a way it could be easier for you, but in a different way than for water signs. different energies may find it easy to speak with you or be around you pisces 12H - this sign might find it the easiest ot pick up on different energies because it’s at home! you may pass your own energy onto others without knowing it. people may want to feed off your energy because of how intoxicating it might be - this could extend to scoprio 12H too sagittarius 12H - you might have to actively search out energies when it comes to pick up on them, or maybe you just like to. they don’t really come to you naturally like with pisces.

⟡ i noticed aquarius suns tend to have intoxicating smiles.

think about it! yang jeongin from stray kids, hobi from bts, megan thee stallion, and j.cole. both jeongin and hobi have smiles that show throughout their whole face. megan thee stallion has had people talk about her smile all the time - it’s wide and stands out. j. cole literally has a song named “crooked smile” and although his smile doesn’t fit the societal standard of what considered “nice” it’s still unique to him.

⟡ arabic lots are so much more than just your part of fortune

there’s actually a whole list of lots that can be calculated through various combinations. i think i’ll do a post on this later on, but some of the most interesting lots i saw were: Anareta I and II - Taker of Life, Ancestors, Expected Birth, Boys (Sons), Girls (Daughters), Fortune in Husbandry, Influence, Karma, Lawsuits again, there’s a ton more, but i don’t think they’re talked about much (at least not on here), so i’d like to learn more about them!

⟡ the third house deals with transportation, so the sign in your third house could represent how you are when traveling

i have libra in the 3H, and i tend to be laid back when it comes to the actual process of traveling. i wear hoodies and sweats, and i’m very low maintenance when going on a road trip or going on planes. sagittarius 3H — the type to be like an excited puppy. is rushing everyone because of how excited they are. might be more inclined to ask others where they’re traveling as they sit and wait capricorn 3H — might be a little more stuffy when it comes to traveling. keeps a tight schedule when leaving and going. could prefer to where business wear when traveling because that’s comfortable for them lol leo 3H - not completely laksidisical, but also is to an extent. focused on making sure their outfit is perfect (you never know who you could meet on a plane, ya know?) may have everyone wait for them because they need to be sure they packed EVERYTHING

⟡ going back to arabic lots, there’s one called Spirit that i think better explains your own spirit as a person (like your personality and how you view life) rather than the actual asteroid Spirit, which i interpreted more so as your guides.

⟡ asteroid Aglaja (47) is named after one of the Greek charities - she rules over beauty splendor, glory, and magnificence. as a result, the asteroid could explain where you can find glory or explain your financial success during life

sagittarius — in another country/place different from your home town; could be lucky when it comes to finances; might even win the lottery virgo — in a place of service, like a community center or non-profit organization; will indulge in the finer side of life - a focus on the arts aries — in a leadership position or cut-throat industry; you may make and spend money quickly - likely water flowing through your hands

⟡ asteroid Kalliope (22) is named after another muse - one ruling over eloquence and epic poetry. this asteroid could give more insight into how you sound or how you use your words. look for aspects to mercury for even more information!

cancer — utilizing emotion to get your point across; could be more passive when speaking; people may find it hard to hear you libra — again, could be more passive; tries to make everything agreeable; tries to uplift others; a firm and encouraging voice scoprio — could be less inclined to talk, but people listen when you do; you use your words to offer insight or point out something important

⟡ in my opinion, where saturn is in your chart could be an area of life where it takes time for you to grow into

gemini / 3H — it takes time for you to learn how to communicate your thoughts well. if in the 3H, depending on the sign, you could be introverted and find it hard to speak or you’re too quick of a speaker. you could even have a speech impediment. with gemini, it’s dependent upon the house, but you could be in your head too much when it comes to what you say or you tend to rub people the wrong way with your words. capricorn / 10H — it takes time for you to grow into your reputation or work life. in the 10H, you may find it hard to get promoted. in capricorn, you could find it hard to not be so work-oriented in every aspect of your life; it could be hard for you to just go with the flow. aquarius / 11H — it takes time for you to learn to fit in with the collective. in the 11H, it could be hard for you to make friends, or you could fond it difficult to see how your life will pan out in the future. in aquarius, you could find it hard to connect with others and also see the uniqueness you possess.

⟡ where venus, taurus, and virgo are in your chart could explain what aesthetics you’re into. so can the signs in your second and sixth house

⟡ having too much of one element in your chart can actually start giving you the opposite effects if it’s not balanced out enough

you could view this literally in that having too much of anything could always turn out to be “wrong”. too much water leads to flooding, too much fire leads to wildfires, and so on and so forth. in this same way, having too much water in your chart could lead you to be more confident or maybe less in tune with your intuition. too much fire could lead you to be more quiet and in your head. too much earth could make you live with your heads in the clouds and less practical. too much air can lead you to be concrete in your actions and thoughts.

⟡ both leo and pisces give off little kid energy but in different ways

leo represents the little kid that has a ton of energy and wants to play all day. the kid who plays out all their fantasies and acts as their own hero. pisces represents the quieter kid that prefers quiet coloring or drawing to group activities. the kid who you have to find a way to connect with before they come out of their shell. both signs are kid like in how they dream. both signs are wide-eyed when it comes to the things they dream of doing, or thee people they plan on becoming. this makes me want to do a post on the sun signs as children 😭

thank you for reading this all the way through if you did!

if you notice anything else from what i’ve said, or if you go around a play with arabic lots, please let me know!!

i’d love to know what you think and what you discovered also!

#astrology #astroblr #astro observations #astrology observations #sunkissedchld

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holllandtrash · 1 year

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muse | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

after stepping back from music following a bad break up and a label drop, y/n returns and is on the search for a new muse, you just never thought you'd find it in italy sabrina carpenter faceclaim - a lot of reading with this one im so sorry

there is a spotify playlist to go along with this au if you're wanting to listen to the songs used/mentioned throughout, listen here (i suggest it bc the lyrics of some songs are important hehe)

yourusername

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yourusername thanks for letting me take some time away♡ new things are coming, stay tuned

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sofiacarson we missed u

dovecameron welcome back b❤️❤️

ynismygf SHES BLONDE AND WE'RE GETTING NEW MUSIC? im screaming

happy4u if we get a break up album im gna use it as an excuse to break up w my boyfriend

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yourusername lately

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zendaya 🔥🔥🔥🔥

ynfanclub girl drop the album

yourusername girl its been 2 weeks i dont have an album

yourusername

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yourusername when in italy...drop a new song for the first time in 8 months

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dovecameron okay girly pop off

ynfanclub I THOUGHT WE WEREN'T GETTING A BREAK UP ALBUM

yourusername ITS JUST ONE SONG ynfanclub IM SCREAMING

ynismommy italy is good for her, i support this

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liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya and 653,092 others

tagged: scuderiaferrari

yourusername these last few days have been incredible, thank you italy for being so welcoming and thank you scuderia ferrari for allowing me to sing a few old songs on stage to celebrate your old company

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scuderiaferrari anytime 🫡🫡

charles_leclerc see you in the paddock?

yourusername what is a paddock formulayn charles is flirting with her and she has no idea

dovecameron shes baaaack👀👀 we except an album soon

yourusername hehe

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya and 731,029 others

yourusername new music may come sooner than we thought

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goldenyn SHE FOUND A MUSE SHES BACK TO WRITING

formulayn i bet you ANYTHING its charles, y/n probably took one look at him and was like yep i could write 10 songs about you no problem

yourbestfriend the flowers...👀 girl call me

yourusername added to their story

paddockupdates

liked by formulayesterday, yourusername and 104,102 others

paddockupdates Y/N L/N sporting an all red attire at Circuit of the Americas!! Guess that week in Italy really did turn her into a Ferrari Fan

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yourusername i love sports

liked by charles_leclerc

charr16 love to see her at the races but also..bestie...we need more music

formulayn Y/N is at a race i repeat, y/n iS AT THE RACE

charles_leclerc 📍circuit of the americas

liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari and 541,850 others

charles_leclerc P1 and Fastest Lap 👊🏁 What an incredible race❤️

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scuderiaferrari ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

yourusername gooooo charles !!

formulayn girl just say you love him its okay we all do

teamcharles maybe y/n is the teams good luck charm, she should go to more races

yourusername i agree

charles_leclerc added to their story

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya and 673,102 others

yourusername woman of the hour ep...drops friday

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formulayn im really reading into the whole red theme a bit too much

leclerrspaddock same

dovecameron i've been waiting for this one

charles_leclerc can't wait

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yourusername

liked by sofiacarson, charles_leclerc and 635,208 others

yourusername happy woman of the hour release day ♡ thank you to the fans who have been so patient and supportive throughout my entire break (and my return to the studio) thank you to my friends for deleting numbers and blocking the pages i couldn't bring myself to and thank you to my muse❤️ i can't wait to write more songs about you in the future

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charles_leclerc this is my favourite album

sofiacarson ❤️❤️❤️❤️

formulayn IS THAT CHARLES IN THE LAST PIC i can't breath

scuderiaferrari already added to our garage playlist🫡

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charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari and 650,920 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc woman of the hour

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yourusername thank you for being my muse❤️

charles_leclerc anytime

pierregasly does this mean we get tickets to her concert

yourusername only if charles wins the wdc

formulayn so they met that first week in italy and fell in love and have just been secretly dating this whole time...cool cool cool cool cool🥹

goldenyn im glad she put her energy into charles instead of a break up album🥺🥺 y/n deserves to be happy

scuderiaferrari mom and dad

liked by yourusername and charles_leclerc

masterlist here

#charles leclerc social media au #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #formula 1 #formula 1 x you #f1 social media au #f1 requests #f1 one shot #f1 #f1 instagram au #holllandtrash #singer au

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brerosee · 1 month

Text

꧁Kate Martin Hcs:꧂

��༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄

My little softy😊

Oh we’re do I begin. She is just so soft when she’s with you

She buys you flowers every week

The two of you babysit her baby nephew sometimes

When you guys are settled in bed she begins to talk about your guys future

She swear she will be a girl mom and you guys will have a golden retriever

Her family treat you like their daughter they just think your the sweetest

You guys go on coffee dates downtown

Number one hype women

She gives you the confidence you never knew you needed

She loves when you lay in her chest and so she can hold you and protect you

Her instagram is full of pictures of you

Her Lock Screen is a picture of you two in a tulip field(don’t ask trust vision it)

You and Caitlin also become besties because of Kate

When Kate gets drafted your the first person she hugs

She thanks you in her speech 👀

You guys wear cute matching outfits and pajamas

Gets so sad when she has to leave you for away game. She texts you the whole way there and FaceTimes you when she gets to the hotel

People call her obsessed, but she prefers the the term “in love”

Is always holding your hand.

She had caught you watching tik tok edits of her🧏‍♀️

She likes to make you blush she will just say the most outrageous things

“I wish you were a piece of fruit so I could just eat you” “oh my-“

Will not let you touch a door. Car door? Opens it for you. Regular door? It’s already opened for you.

Will send you heart hands to you in the crowed at her basketball games

The cameras love you.

They capture all your reactions at games

The team also loves you and your included in team bonding and the lives😦

Has a playlist for you and it’s also her game day playlist

You guys take roadtrips together

Loves kissing you. Just grabs you from the back of your neck a kisses ya

Calls you her wife even though you guys aren’t dating and corrects people when they call you her girlfriend 🥲

Interviewer-“so your girlfriend was in the crowd to- Kate-“ wife. She’s my wife🙄”

Everyone starts laughing

You guys are a power couple

Everyone wants what you have

You guys to cringy tik tok challenges

She likes to rough house with you

She will pick you up and slam you on the bed like it’s the wwe

Overall a golden retriever gf and such a cute I lover her sm

༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄

#Spotify #kate martin x reader #caitlin clark #kate martin #iowa wbb #iowa hawkeyes #las vegas aces #mac miller

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glitterjay · 2 months

Note

jay request? he had a weverse live today, so imagine if you sent him a video of yourself and he accidentally played the first few seconds of it 👀😳

⭒ idrk what warnings to put on this one so, uh, suggestive content under the cut mdni!

⭒ c's note: live laugh love jay

⭒ taglist: @hollyoongs @moon7jay @wondipity @defnotfertilizedtoesw @kwiwin

jay decided it was time to spend some time with engene. he got himself into one of the studio rooms in the agency building and turned on the live stream. he was having a good time catching up with his fans, reading through every comment, and laughing at those he found silly.

you received the notification from weverse. you hesitated at first, thinking it could have been any other member. jay usually told you when he would go live so you could watch it, but you didn't get anything this time.

you opened it regradless. maybe it was heeseung showing a new playlist, or sunoo could be singing his heart out. to your surprise, the man on the other side of the screen was none other than your boyfriend.

you tried not to think too much about not getting a notice beforehand. It could have slipped his mind. you sat there as you watched him talk and laugh at the screen. every time he turned toward his guitar, you could perfectly see the birthmark that adorned his neck. not only that, but his hair was long enough to fall over his eyelashes, making him look even more attractive.

your legs started brushing against each other as you thought about how you could mark the spot where jay's birthmark lay, making it more noticeable. despite all the comments calling him handsome, you were the only one who could touch him. he was all yours, to yourself.

five minutes went by, and an idea popped into your head. you closed the love momentarily, quickly pulling out your laptop to open it there. you positioned yourself so that your core was right in front of the screen, and recorded yourself as you played with your clit with your boyfriend talking in the background.

you sent it to jay without hesitation and waited peacefully for a reaction. your hand was moving slower, not wanting to come undone before seeing how your boyfriend would react.

jay excused himself as he moved out of sight for a moment, looking through the messages that showed on his phone screen. he smiled when he saw your name, using the lame excuse that his mom had asked him what he was doing.

he made sure the sound was completely off when he pressed play on the video.

his jaw hung open, his eyes full of hunger, and there was a visible change in his posture and aura. he moved the chair closer to the desk so that his lower half was no longer visible and set his guitars aside. he cleared his throat and kept trying to act normal.

you, on the other hand, noticed how his breath was starting to pick up, how his left hand wouldn't see the light of day, or how he'd roll his eyes from time to time. you knew him just well enough to know he was playing with himself under the desk. bingo.

jay excused himself once more, picking up the phone that was resting on his lap and typing away on it. your phone rang as soon as jay's attention returned to the comments flooding the live.

songie 💘

making me hard during a live... your cunt and I will have a real talk when i get home.

oh, and you're not allowed to talk, touch, or cum until i say so.

sheeesh, this took me a while... feedback, suggestions, new ideas, requests, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#— ✿ c's work!#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #engene #kpop #kpop smut #hard hours #enhypen jay #enhypen jay smut #jay smut #jay park #park jay #park jongseong

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maaarshieee · 1 year

Note

Okay so: How about giving Wanderer, Pantalone, Dottore and Alhaitham flowers 👀

Pick some flowers for them. What's their reaction? Put them in their hair too. Make them a flower crown!

⎯⎯ ୨ Flowers For You! (HCs) ୧ ⎯⎯

ੈ♡˳ Alhaitham, Dottore, Pantalone & Wanderer x Gn!Reader *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ Masterlist *ೃ༄

author's note ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

THEY'RE INFESTING MY MIND RN,, THEY'RE ALL SKRUNKLIES,, ty for the request this is ... so soft... omg,,, FINALLY NEW BANNER FOR WANDERER BC OF THAT BDAY ART HEHEHE,, ok i might've had brain rotted too hard on pantalone esp bc the song "call out my name" came up from my playlist while writing him..... have a good day/night!! <33 oh! noticed were mutuals,, got an emoji for ur mutual tag ?? hehe,,

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ cw: canon typical violence, longer than i anticipated, injuries, made up flowers on wanderer's part

"What are you doing?"

"Decorating!" Was your only reply.

Inside the library that Alhaitham often resides in, with piles of books on his table, legs crossed as he read peacefully, you stood behind him, hands raking through his silky hair.

A while ago, you entered the library with a bright smile on your face, a bunch of flowers gathered in your arms. Alhaitham was pleased with your sudden visit, even if his outward appearance was of annoyance, choosing to 'ignore' your existence instead.

Huffing humorously at his attitude, you greeted him cheerfully, giving him a quick peck on the cheek (where he subtly leaned his body to the side to chase your lips for a longer kiss) before placing down the flowers you'd freshly picked from the forest during your forest ranger patrols.

You often brought him flowers after finishing your patrols, always dropping them wherever he was so he'd usually be walking home with a bouquet in his hands. He didn't particularly mind, in fact, he absolutely cherished them, especially when you always put so much thought and effort into them.

Each day you bring a new bouquet, they'd be bundled in different shades of green crepe paper, ribbons, and various designs you could think of, and you do it all by yourself. Even so far refusing opinions from others, pouring all your creativity and adoration for him into each bouquet. You even pick a diverse variation of flowers that would mix and match, then you would list off the meanings of each flower, its anatomy and the role plays in the ecosystem, basically info dumping him.

And each time, Alhaitham would close his book, leaving a bookmark on the page he was reading, and turn his head to you, listening to every word you say and even engaging in a deep conversation with you about biology. In each conversation, each discussion, he learns something new about plants, and he's able to bask in your loving presence, watching your hands fluidly move with your words, noticing the way the corners of your eyes crinkle from the big grin on your face. It's always the tiniest details that warm Alhaitham's heart.

But today was a little different, he supposes. As soon as you got close to where he sat, he took note that you hadn't brought him a bouquet this time, which earned you a raised brow from him. All you responded with was a small mischievous smirk on your lips as you put down the flowers you had gathered that day onto a chair next to him and got behind his back.

Alhaitham hadn't expected you to visit him that day since he had told you he'd be pretty busy, that's why he had a lot more books on his table than usual. And yet here you are, with a plan brewing inside your pretty little head that Alhaitham would just have to let himself fall victim to. It was distracting, sure, but it's you.

So he didn't tell you off and instead allowed you to bury your fingers into his hair, tenderly massaging his scalp and running your hands through his fluffy hair, softly humming a tune near his ear. Soon, you began to put flowers into his hair, playing with his hair and silently giggling behind him.

All the while Alhaitham immersed himself in the books he read, not minding your pestering one bit. As long as you didn't completely distract him from reading, he would let this (and many others things) slide.

From there, you compared Alhaitham to a cat, holding back a snort at the comparison. Whenever you pulled your hands away from his head, he would chase your touch subconsciously, yearning for more. When you still your hands in his hair, he would turn his head to look at you questioningly, an unimpressed glint in his eyes.

And while Alhaitham hasn't spoken a single word after the question he had asked a few moments ago, you could tell that he was enjoying this more than he could let on. His tense muscles had relaxed, leaning back on his chair and, from time to time, you'd catch his eyes flutter close before he'd blink to pull himself out of his sleepiness, he even had a small tugging at the corners of his lips.

He didn't make a move to take out the flowers you had put into his hair once he got up from his seat, returning the books from their respective shelves. Internally chuckling at the image of the blank-faced scribe walking around with flowers littered in his hair, you decided to play nice and reached up to his hair to remove them.

Only for your hands to be swatted away by Alhaitham and receive a halfhearted glare from your dearest lover.

It was quite endearing that Alhaitham did not give a care to anyone who saw him with a head full of flowers, and hair a little messy from all your playing and rubbing, but he ignored their stares, his eyes only focused on you as you walked side by side back to your shared home.

"Hey, Dottie," Hearing your voice from the doorway of his personal office, Dottore paid you no mind and continued to write on his whiteboard with a few other segments behind him. A few segments gave you a brief glance, before returning to the tasks they were assigned with. "Hey Dot, Dottie, Dotdot," You continued annoyingly, listing away all the nicknames you could think of at the top of your head, getting more absurd when you're slowly running out of ideas.

With a sigh, finally popped back the cap of his marker and turned to look at you, only to see you holding a bunch of baskets in your hands and... 2 of his segments holding similar baskets but with flower crowns on their heads. Truly, what a sight to see. You hailed all the way from a couple nations you had to stop by for your mission only to come back and immediately cause some shenanigans inside his laboratory.

Dottore couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips once again as he started walking toward you, eyeing the flower baskets the 3 of you held that were filled to the brim with various flora he was quite familiar with. Letting you put down the baskets on a table, he turned his head to the 2 segments trailing behind your back with a scowl on his face. "You may leave," He orders, before adding. "And take those off."

To his surprise, they hesitated to follow his order, hands froze in midair as if they were contemplating whether to obey or not. Now that greatly irked the Doctor, seeing that 2 of his creations had the gall to not obey right away in front of him, only to be calmed down by you by putting a hand on his shoulder. "Oh c'mon, leave them be. They're just flower crowns, let them have it." You reasoned, gesturing to the 2 segments to move along while Dottore had his attention on you.

With a smirk taking over your features, your hands settled on your hips when you jerked your head in the direction of the baskets you had brought proudly. "Besides, I got you a lot more." Dottore narrowed his eyes at you, dismissing the other segments present inside his office more, taking a few steps closer to you, arms crossed. "What exactly are these?"

You passed a basket to him and he took it, observing the contents of it before widening his eyes slightly, hands now caressing the leaves and petals of the flora you've brought to him. "My recent mission had me running around Teyvat for a bit, so I grabbed everything I could." You explained, eyeing one corner of his office. It had pictures of flora he needed for his experiments, a definitive list of everything he wanted that are plant-based to set a project onward and help with his research. "Be it mythical, illegal, rarest of the rare, or the most expensive, nothing escaped me."

A big, maniacal grin soon blossomed on his face as he further examined the multiple baskets, small giggles emitting from him here and there. Satisfied at his reaction, you proudly crossed your arms and your smirk grew. "My my, whatever is the reason you've become so generous?"

With a mere shrug, you walked behind him, laying your chin on his shoulder as you watched him eagerly sort through the flora you'd given him. "Just wanted to further our research, is all," At that, his movements paused and his grin faltered, head turning to look at you. You blinked at him, before realizing what you'd just said.

"Well, also because I wanted to spoil my dearest partner." You tried to save yourself, though it was the actual truth. Dottore seemed to think your words over, before menacingly smiling at you. "Oh, so they get one of those and not me?" Was he serious? You stared at him incredulously. Well, you guess you couldn't blame him. You mistakenly had told him the gift you had prepared for him was simply for your experiments, not for him.

But you couldn't help it. You let out a small, breathless chuckle before digging your hands inside one of the baskets that held flora that isn't much required for your experiments and began to work for your hands. Dottore watched you while you twisted the stems of each flora, organizing the petals and making them look as pretty as you could, tying them up neatly.

Dottore had pursed his lips as he observed, his expression growing sour when he peeked outside of his office to see a majority of the segments outside had flower crowns on their heads. They all seemed to be containing the joy they had upon receiving a flower crown, while the unlucky ones that doesn't have any were sulking and glaring at the luckier segments.

It seemed to upset Dottore, even more, to see he's one of the unlucky ones, unintentionally beginning to sulk like the rest of them. You had to hold back your laughter when you saw a big frown on his face, eyeing angrily at his segments but you opted to explain yourself to avoid his wrath.

"I thought you'd be satisfied enough with all the stuff I got you, so I didn't make you a flower crown." You said, earning Dottore's attention once more as you kept adding the prettiest flowers you could get your hands on, "I'd imagine you wouldn't want others to see you with such things on you so..." Finalizing the flower crown you made just for him, you turned to face him once more, a sheepish smile on your lips.

"But I suppose I was wrong, making my lover feel jealous." Dottore scowled at your words, opening his mouth to deny it but you just shot him an amused look, presenting him with the flower crown. Compared to the ones you've made for the segments, you put a lot of thought into the flower crown you made for him. It wasn't as messy, considering that you were frequently on the run during your mission whilst you made them.

"I'm sorry my love... Is this enough to earn your forgiveness?" Gently placing the flower crown on his head, pulling back a strand of his hair behind his ear. You then gave him your best puppy eyes on him, knowing full well that it wouldn't work on him. Despite this face, you still liked doing it, putting your hands on his chest.

Dottore didn't speak, only cupping your cheek with his gloved hand. He didn't like the fact that he has a flower crown on his head, but he suppose that he could tolerate it just for you since you made it for him after all. Since it was an act of seeking forgiveness.

How thoughtful of his lover. To bring him so many important materials for his research and make him a flower crown. And you easily got the message that he had forgiven you when he pressed a small, fleeting kiss on your forehead.

The Regrator has it all. He is rich, very rich, so of course, he does. So you can't help but feel a tad insecure whenever you think about giving him something.

You? A mere adventurer who does commissions for a living and even often helps the people around you for free?

How do flowers you've picked while you were doing commissions in a different region compete with the literal huge gardens Pantalone has at the mansions he has all over Teyvat? Every time he brings you to one of his 'vacation homes', you always find yourself lost in the beautiful paradise of flora that he owns.

It's the thought that counts, you argue with yourself. While it's true, it doesn't stop you from hesitating whether to even give the bouquet you've prepared for your dearest lover. Maybe you shouldn't have if you were being honest. Pantalone, in your eyes, was the embodiment of elegance.

He was gorgeous; the smile that's always etched on his lips makes your palms sweat, especially when they're always so genuine whenever they're directed at you. Skin fair, face as refined as smoothed jade. His expression was a balanced mix of sharp frostiness and a polite gleam of warmth, both authoritative and welcoming.

Immaculate and pristine clothing could only be worn, from his coat, gloves, and even the material of his glasses; all were top quality and handmade by professionals amongst professionals. With each calculated step, his entire being is the epitome of wealth.

So who were you to sully the beauty he has with simple flowers that you've handpicked from the forests you've roamed in? Sure, you've cleaned them as much as you could, but giving him flowers that weren't grown in quality gardens- you'd be ruining his image!

Clutching the DIY bouquet you've organized the flowers in, you almost sank to your knees as you continued to mull over your decisions, sulking right in front of Pantalone's office door. It has been 20 minutes since you arrived and the guards stationed near his office have been pitifully glancing at your predicament.

Just as you were about to take a step back and throw the bouquet you'd made, deciding to just do more commissions and earn more mora (and not use the mora he kept giving you) to buy him something more presentable and pleasing to the eye, Pantalone opened the door.

You froze in your spot, but the grip on the bouquet you held tightened to the point it would've been broken. Pantalone was shocked to see you just standing motionlessly at his door, not expecting you to have you back so soon.

Immediately, Pantalone's expression softened and his smile widened. His shoulders relaxed and his body felt lighter just at the mere sight of you, and the feeling of laughter bubbling up his chest when he saw your stupefied face.

You fought the urge to bolt or throw the flowers in your hands to an unsuspecting guard and pretend as if nothing had happened. You stood your ground, no matter how hard your heart was beating against your ribcage when his eyes traveled down, catching sight of the bouquet.

Pantalone's face evidently brightened at the sight of it, the corners of his lips curving upwards. "For me?" He says in a fond tone as his hands reached for the bouquet, but you instinctively flinch back, surprising Pantalone. You quickly stuttered out; "I-I... yeah, yeah it is..." You learned your throat, averting your eyes from him and shamefully bowing down your head.

"But, well, you shouldn't take it. I just picked them in the forest when I was back in Sumeru because when I saw how pretty the flowers were, I thought about you... They're not high quality, so I can just buy you better ones—" You didn't even realize you'd begun rambling, so you were cut off abruptly when Pantalone took the bouquet from your arms anyways, caressing the petals with his gloved hands, his smile never leaving his handsome face.

Then, he gently grabbed your chin and lifted it up with his index finger and his thumb so you'd look at him eye to eye. Before you could say something, he captured your lips against his, tilting your head slightly to the side to deepen the kiss.

Heat exploded on your face, eyes widening at the sudden kiss but you indulge yourself in it nonetheless, kissing back fervently and clutching his coat shakily. You let out a small noise when Pantalone licked your bottom lip, satisfied at the delectable sight of your red face, before pulling away a little.

"I absolutely love them, my dear." He muttered against your skin, taking a step closer to you. "I'm delighted that even when you're out on your travels, you still think of me, so I will cherish these flowers you've given me, for they remind me of your love for me."

Those words sent chills up your spine, and you couldn't suppress the smile forming on your lips and the sigh of relief that escaped through your nose.

"Now, why don't you tell me more about these flowers?"

As a seasoned adventurer, you've equipped yourself with various knowledge of anything that could help you in your survival in the outside world. Perking up at his request, you eagerly nodded at that as the words spilled from your mouth whilst Pantalone led you inside his office, shutting the door close.

And thus the beginning of you always bringing him a fresh bouquet of flowers every time you come back from your commissions, then recounting your wide knowledge of flora to your lover.

And every time, Pantalone would listen intently, learning how to care for the flowers as per your instruction if it meant he could listen to your voice more with such enthusiasm, quell your feelings of inferiority in your relationship, and ignore his piling paperwork to spend more of his time with you.

The Wanderer never really understood the sentiment of giving flowers to your lover. So what if they gave you flora? They're just plants that look pretty and usually smelled good. It was a romantic gesture, others would say. It shows the thoughtfulness you had for your lover, it's why you'd gift them flowers! But would it still be counted as very thoughtful if it's such a common thing lovers do to one another?

He doesn't truly get it, so he had absolutely no idea how to react when you came back to the camp you set up for the night, a wild grin on your face with a bunch of cuts and bruises on your body, your hair one big mess and your clothes were torn and dirty, though you cradled a bunch of flowers in your arms protectively. Well, besides being concerned for your entire being and getting absolutely mad at your lacking self-preservation.

"Just what were you thinking, picking flowers near a Hilichurl Camp without your weapon!? Are you trying to get yourself killed!?" He scolded you whilst he cleaned your wounds, intentionally adding pressure enough to make you wince and hiss in pain to both stops the blow flowing out and punish you for your foolishness, deathly glaring at you.

But you merely had a sheepish smile on your lips as you watched your lover fuss over your wellbeing, wrapping you in bandages and scolding you like a mother whose child had run off to do whatever. To be fair, he had warned about the Hilichurl camp near yours, and that you both agreed to leave it be for now since it was late at night already, but when he told you to grab more firewood, you still went to the Hiluchurl camp unarmed all because some 'pretty flowers' caught your eyes.

Offering you a fresh set of clothing, he let you get dressed whilst he went back to cooking, eyeing the bundle of flowers you left near him. Just why did you get through all that trouble for a bunch of flowers? You can buy flowers at multiple flower shops all over Teyvat! He doesn't understand at all, grumpily huffing under his breath.

You told him that those flowers were for him, that it was worth the trouble. It took all of his willpower to not smack you with the wooden ladle he had in his hand, only gritting his teeth and glaring at you. But for some reason, you were extremely unbothered by your injuries, only apologizing to your partner for worrying him. You kept caressing the flowers with a big grin on your face, features softening as you admired them.

So, he had to ask. "Is there any other reason why you had to get these for me?" He crossed his arms, eyeing you warily. You never ceased to caress the damp petals of the flowers, only scooping them back in your arms and giving them to him.

"They remind me of you." At your answer, he raised a brow. How does a bunch of flowers remind you of me? "I read in a book once that these rare flowers symbolize new beginnings, a fresh new start, and hope." You started, sitting close to him and leaning your body against his, staring up at the night sky. "They grow in an unhealthy environment and start off like wilting little buds of flowers, but the more it grows, the more it blossoms into a beautiful flower."

Slowly, his eyes trailed down to the flowers in his arms, piecing them together bit by bit in his mind. He held the flowers closer to him as he continued to listen to your words. "In the midst of burnt forests, these flowers usually grow at the heart of the disaster, sprouting beauty in hapless surroundings." You finish with a sparkle in your eyes, now gazing at him fondly.

Trying to hide his expression with his hat, he merely responded with; "Hope and new beginnings truly fit this flower then." Though his voice was steady, the same couldn't be said the same with his body, which lightly trembled. Your hand found itself in his, lacing your fingers together. You were relieved that he didn't pull away from your hold, only squeezing your hand as he hugged the meaningful flowers in his arms.

These flowers greatly reminded you of him. Not only because of its appearance, but also what it symbolizes. You admired him as if he was the flowers that you picked near that Hilichurl camp, marveling at the beauty of his new life, the hope in his eyes, and his will to finally live without the strings that were attached to him.

The Wanderer may never get why other couples would give each other flowers; may never understand what's so sentimental about it, but he now knows why you chose to give him those flowers... And it meant quite a lot to him.

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yunjardi · 1 year

Text

my heart bel♡ngs to daddy [series]

[young sugar daddy jake x fem.reader au]

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[click here for this series's masterlist to read previous chapters, general warnings, and playlist]

[‼️chapter warnings‼️: smut [mdni], fluff, DADDY KINK, jake is a little possessive (???), going on a flight, public-ish sex, teasing, spanking, fingering, grinding, handjob, dirty talk, unprotected sex, mile high club 👀, lmk if i missed anything!]

*sorry for any grammar errors

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-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-

chapter 13: love phobia

"but you love me because i'm an idiot, right?"

your mind has been racing ever since jake uttered those words.

your stomach filled with butterflies from simply hearing him say the word 'love,' so what more if he told you that he loves you or vice versa? you didn't even fully know if you loved him for real or if he was just so kind, which you weren't used to, that you just think you love him.

love is not a word to use lightly, so you use it sparsely or not at all.

now that you had graduated university, you had way more time alone with your thoughts. the only thing standing between you being completely alone with your thought was your job at the bar which you were now wary of. you would quit your job because of those horrible incidents but if jake ever left and cut you off financially, you would barely have enough money to keep yourself afloat. those tips and your regular salary could only get you so far.

speaking of work, you should be focusing on serving drinks at your first night shift in awhile, but you can't seem to get your head straight, thoughts of jake floating in your brain with seemingly no end.

"earth to y/n," yeji said in a ghostly voice, snapping you back into reality, "your next round of guests are here." she laughed as she looked at your dazed expression.

you quickly got your shit together, unbuttoned your shirt lower to appeal to the guests, and went over to serve them.

"good evening, everyone," you greeted them whilst pulling out your notepad and pen to write down what drinks they wanted to order, "would you like to know our weekly specials or-" your voice stopped itself once you looked up at the group you were serving.

you didn't pay any mind to them until you locked eyes with the one and only sunghoon.

but it wasn't over yet.

sitting next to him was none other than mr. choi yeonjun.

at this point, you were sick of your worlds colliding with one another.

you tried to keep things casual and act like you didn't know them, but sunghoon just had to say something.

"oh hey, y/n," he greeted you with a smirk, his sharp fangs showing through, "you never struck me as the type of girl to work in a bar." you smiled sheepishly and simply nodded, trying so desperately to eliminate the awkwardness. "ah, i'm sure this place keeps you busy, doesn't it?" yeonjun chimed in with a smirk painted on his face, "you should call me whenever you have free time, though." he so casually flirted with you. the rest of the table didn't seem to pay any mind to you and sunghoon though you wished someone, anyone else, would just say something.

"so, um," you started with a painfully awkward chuckle, "is everyone ready?" you asked to which the rest of the table, thankfully, nodded. you took their orders as fast as you possibly could before practically dashing off to your side of the bar to begin mixing drinks. unfortunately, sunghoon and yeonjun both decided to follow you over to the bar like two puppies following behind their owner.

"i haven't seen you in awhile," sunghoon sighed out sarcastically as he rested his chin on his palm, "we should catch up." yeonjun nodded as if you didn't just see him a few weeks ago.

"that's probably not a good idea," you sheepishly laughed as you turned around to pour liquor into your drink shaker, "isn't it a little awkward after what happened? isn't jake literally one of your best friends?" you tried to keep your voice low. "oh yeah, of course he is," sunghoon said casually, "he kept calm around you, but he definitely didn't take the fact that we fucked lightly. he's so adamant about no other guy touching you or whatever. we made up, of course, but it's still a sensitive topic; he'll quite literally leave a room if it's ever brought up. but man, i've never seen that guy be so serious about anything." he shrugged. you were fully appalled at how he so easily talked about the situation.

"i had no idea that you were this kind of girl, y/n," yeonjun pointed out to which you cocked your head in confusion at his statement, still shaking and pouring drinks, "the type of girl who likes to have multiple guys, you know?" your eyes widened. "ah, it's not like that, i promise," you smiled weakly followed by a sigh, "just a coincidence, maybe?"

"in case you aren't aware, literally every guy who's seen you and jake's little videos wants a taste of you," yeonjun remarked as he took a sip of the drink he ordered. "and rightfully so," sunghoon added under his breath, recalling his time with you at the sex club. 'pervs,' you internally rolled your eyes and scowled as you finally finished making the last of the drinks.

"i'm not sure you realize how popular you are amongst men," yeonjun said breathily.

yeah, you didn't know and you didn't want to know either. you didn't log onto social media that often, but that messy situation led you to not open it for months; you weren't ready, or ever will be, to hear what the public thinks about you and your relation to jake.

you didn't even exactly understand what all the fuss was about; it was just a few dirty videos, so why were people making such a big deal over something you're trying to forget. like come on, it felt like that situation happened ages ago.

after mixing the last of the drinks for sunghoon and yeonjun's table, you went over to serve the others who accompanied them and left the situation as soon as you possibly could.

that's when you remembered that jake was supposed to pick you up after your shift ended, and he, of course, always arrived earlier than he should whenever he'd pick you up.

shit, shit, shit.

you hoped and prayed that he wouldn't think there was something going on with sunghoon and yeonjun if they were still at the bar by the time he showed up, which they likely would be. in your frantic state, you were able to spot yeji across the bar to which you dashed in your direction. she was quick to notice how frantic you were as you walked toward her, putting down the drink tray she was holding to check on you.

"hey, yeji," you started with a sheepish smile, "we have a bit of a situation." her eyes widened. "which is?" she questioned with curiosity. "potential drama alert," you whispered to her, "sunghoon and yeonjun just so happened to be part of my assigned table. do you mind covering from me so that jake doesn't think there's anthing suspicious going down whenever he gets here? i'll go check up on them once last time before i hand them over to you if that's cool with you?" you looked around the room as discreetly as you could just in case. "of course, y/n," she agreed, shaking your shoulder playfully, "the last thing you need in your life is more drama." you let out a sigh of relief as you began to approach the table one last time before officially clocking out.

"is everything okay over here? anything else i can get you tonight?" you asked, hoping with your entire being that they'd say no.

"well..." yeonjun let his voice drift off as he pretended to think, "another cocktail would be nice if you don't mind." you gave him a sheepish smile followed by a nod. 'actually, i do mind,' you thought to yourself, annoyed. "sounds good," you lied, "i'll have that out for you asap." you tried to walk away alone, but of course both yeonjun and sunghoon wanted to come and join you.

you pulled your drink shaker out from behind the counter and began to pour alcohol and ice into it, trying to mix as quickly as you could. "actually," sunghoon started, "i'd like one too." at this point, they were both just teasing you. now you had double the work all because sunghoon wanted to be a difficult piece of shit.

you were fully aware that you probably looked goofy by the way you were trying to quickly mix two cocktails basically simultaneously, but you stopped caring after remembering why you were rushing in the first place. you just let sunghoon and yeonjun keep staring at you do whatever you were doing, but you were soon sent into a panic once you saw jake enter the bar.

'please don't come any closer, please don't come any closer,' you repeated to yourself in your mind, but alas, your begging to the universe was not successful. you could see jake getting closer and closer from the corner of your eye, but you decided to avoid eye-contact until he reached your bartending counter.

"oh," you heard jake start speaking, "i didn't expect to see you here, sunghoon." it was obvious that he was trying his best to keep his composure. "oh, hey, bro," sunghoon reached out to do a weird handshake thing with jake, "i didn't expect to see you here either. here for a drink?" sunghoon questioned. "actually, i'm here to take y/n home whenever her shift ends," jake seemed to brag as he sat on one of the barstools nonchalantly, trying not to seem bothered, "just let me know when you're ready to go, princess." he emphasized the nickname he had for you. "actually," you started as you wiped down the counter one last time, "i'm ready now." sunghoon and yeonjun seemed surprised at your answer considering that you were technically their hostess and they hadn't finished yet.

"don't worry, you two," you tried to seem as reassuring as possibly, "yeji will take care of you for the rest of your time here." you flashed them a forced smile as you untied your short waist apron and headed over to the break room with jake.

once you got inside the break room, you walked over to the labeled hooks on the wall and hung up your apron, but before you could turn around, you heard the door lock.

"jake?" you asked, watching his hand leave the doorhandle. "mhm?" he responded, "something wrong, princess?" he questioned as he approached you. "n-no," you stuttered out, "just wondering why you locked the door is all." jake looked down at you and smirked before beginning to speak again.

"any particular reason those two were making eyes at you while you were mixing drinks at your station?" jake questioned as he cupped one of your cheeks with his big hand. your face grew hot at the tone of voice he used. was he jealous again? "of course not," you responded shyly, "they just happened to be at the table i was serving at and they decided to follow me to my station. nothing going on, i promise, jakey." he stepped closer to you. "hmm," he pretended to think as he let his hands wander your body, "i don't like how flirty they were being toward my princess. you weren't thinking of doing something behind daddy's back, were you?" jake asked amorously with a hint of sarcasm. "n-no!" you shook your head frantically, "n-never." jake smirked at your answer, slowly backing you into the back of the break room's couch. without warning, he lifted one of your legs so that your knee was resting on the back of the couch. slowly, he began running his hands up and down your inner thighs, ever so slightly swiping your entrance with one finger which made you let out a quiet yelp.

"please touch me," you begged him as you looked up at him with your pretty eyes. "what do you mean, princess? i already am," jake responded with sarcasm as he continued to tease you gently, "how do you want daddy to touch you?" you turned your face away from him, not wanting him to see how bashful you were getting simply because of his words, but that was soon reversed when jake took it upon himself to tilt your chin back over so that you were looking at him again.

"tell me, princess," jake repeated, his tone more firm than before, "you know daddy always gives you exactly what you want."

not wanting to verbally respond because you felt too shy, you let your hand trail down his thigh, feeling around until you could feel his hard through his jeans. jake's body grew goosebumps from your soft caresses. he kept on rubbing his big hand on your ass and letting his knuckles brush past your clothed entrance until he worked up enough courage to spank you, earning another yelp from you.

"daddy, please?" you begged again, "w-want your fingers." jake let out a sexy chuckle as he continued to rub circles on your ass and thighs, eventually pulling your panties to the side to feel how wet you'd gotten for him. "so wet for me already," jake smirked, his accent turning you on further, "do you like when i scold you for letting other men be all over you, hm? do you like making daddy jealous?" jake asked you as he left hard spanks on your ass, making you whimper in pleasure. "n-no," you responded in a squeak, "n-no, i promise."

jake let his hands wander more, eventually cupping one of your tits as he slickly slipped one of his fingers into your dripping wet pussy. you let out a breathy moan at the sensation of him fingering you while playing with your breast. you let out a moan to which jake moved his hand from your breast to your mouth, covering it up. "shh, princess," jake whispered in your ear, "you have to be quieter; no one can hear us in here, right?" you nodded as jake removed his palm from your mouth, gently telling you to hush once more before continuing to finger you again.

"jake," you breathed out as you reached out to grab his wrist, "i need you... please?" you begged him as he let out a light sigh of pleasure at your submissiveness. "i could never say no to you," jake kissed your neck, "but we have to make it quick, okay? and i need you to be as quiet as possible, yeah?" you whimpered and nodded.

you let jake bend you over the arm of the couch, his arm holding you steady as he unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down. the clanking of his expensive designer belt buckle always turned you on further because that noise always meant that he was gonna let you have it until you couldn't remember your name.

"keep quiet, okay, princess?" jake hushed once more before pumping his cock a few times before slowly letting his tip enter your tight entrance. he hissed at the feeling, placing one of his hands on top of yours once bottoming out.

at this point, you were trying to control your moans with ever ounce of your being, but you couldn't help but let a few escape your lips to which jake tilted your head to the side so he could swallow every sound that you let leave your lips. it didn't help that jake was beginning to speed up so you two could finish faster in fear that someone would start knocking.

'no one knock, please,' jake thought to himself as he fucked your tight hole, almost at his high.

"daddy, slow down," you mewled almost silently, "i c-can't control it." the 'it' being your moans. there was something different about being pounded from behind by jake that sent your body into a frenzy. jake tilted your head up to his and gave you a kiss on the lips as he slowed down his pace, not wanting you to get too overwhelmed.

your request may have seemed simple enough, but not many guys would have been respectful enough to fulfill your request, opting to make excuses as a way to manipulate you into agreeing to their ideas/ideologies. jake was not that type of guy, though, making sure that he catered to your every desire whether sexually or generally.

"is that better, baby?" he asked after kissing your lips to which you nodded, still trying to keep your noises to a minimum. after your response, jake continued to fuck you steadily. pumping his cock into your tight pussy at a gentler pace turned him on further, getting to feel every little bit of you.

"fuck, i'm close," jake let out a breathy groan, "where do you want it?" a stupid question for him to ask considering the fact that he always finishes inside you. "i-inside," you mewled as you pushed your ass back at him, causing him to hiss at the feeling. jake wanted so badly to spank your pretty ass, but he knew that it would make you moan out loud so he had to control himself.

it became increasingly hard by the millisecond for you to stop yourself from moaning and crying out for jake as he continued to fuck you at a steady pace. you couldn't help the tiny, breathy moans that subconsciously escaped your lips as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. "jake," you mewled ever so quietly, "n-need to cum." jake bent himself down to kiss your neck, whispering in your ear for you to let loose for him before he let his seed leak into you. obeying, you came for jake, your body twitching and quivering from the extent of how much you were controlling yourself.

once jake was certain that he emptied all his seed inside of you, he helped you get cleaned up with some tissues that were stored on a shelf.

"you did so good for me, princess," jake praised you as he assisted you in straightening out your outfit. your face turned warm as jake flashed a smile at you.

"now don't think you have to go around and make me jealous just to get me to fuck you like that again," jake let out a light chuckle as he tightened his belt. "i wasn't trying to make you jealous, jakey," you pouted as you held into the sleeve of his shirt, shaking it around playfully, "i would never do it on purpose."

"i believe you, y/n," jake reassured you with a sweet tone, "but regardless, i don't like when other men touch my princess in ways that only i should be touching her." jake seemed to go quiet for a second, worried that he sounded overly possessive over you, but he just let the words fall out of his mouth without thinking beforehand.

was he implying that he wanted you all to himself?

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as another day came, it meant another day to think about how you feel about jake, another day to think about how jake makes you feel, and another day to ponder if jake was telling you the truth or just trying to get you to swoon over him with his sweet-talk. (which was working like a charm)

you wished that you could stop thinking about jake for just for one measly second, but your mind always had other plans.

you kept letting thoughts circulate in your mind as your fingers toyed with the fabric of the short silk nightdress you were dressed in that, of course, jake bought for you.

he was literally everywhere with you though not being physically present.

the clothes you wore? jake bought them.

the diamonds that lay cold on the skin of your neck and wrists? jake bought them.

the several pairs of shoes that you'd never thought you'd own in a million years? jake bought them.

the vintage accessories from all your favorite brands? jake bought them.

all the money.

all the spoiling.

everything.

everything was because of him.

jake reeled you in with his charm and his money, but why did it feel like something more than just a sugar daddy and sugar baby relationship? maybe you were just delusional and blinded by his actions to think straight.

after all, your life had been molded into a fantasy because of him practically over night; something that some could only dream of. you felt like you were living every girl's dream life while barely having to life a finger.

you went from working 12 hour shifts at the bar to barely be able to afford paying for school and your home to being affiliated with one of the richest men in the country.

all because of sex in exchange for a diamond necklace.

some would call you pathetic and a gold-digger, which you often felt like in all honesty, but you knew in your heart that this was something more.

or at least it felt like it was something more.

but in all honesty, you didn't want to feel anymore; you wanted to truly know. you wanted so badly to find inner peace in regards to anything that was related to jake whether it was him admitting that he (allegedly) wants to be more than friends, or, if that isn't the case and he's just been stringing you along all this time, basically leaving everything behind if you wanted even the slightest chance of forgetting about him.

you want jake, but you also feel like you don't or maybe shouldn't.

bzzz...

your ears perked up at the sound of your phone vibrating as you scrambled to find where it was on your bed.

once you found it, you didn't even bother to check who was calling before pressing the green button.

"hello?" you asked once answering the phone, "sorry it to me awhile to pick up." you chuckled sheepishly. "don't worry, princess. i'm just glad you answered," the person responded to which you realized the familiar accented voice.

ah, jake. who else could it have been?

"oh, hi, jake," you smiled as if he could see your giddy expression, "did you need something?" you asked, curious as to why he decided to call you because it's rare that he does so; he usually just shows up to your front door. "hmm," jake's voice trailed off, "i was wondering if i could come see my favorite girl today, maybe pick her up and take her to my house, go out to town with her, possibly have her spend the night?" he rambled on and on. each time he made a statement, you felt yourself blushing more and more until your cheeks became the equivalent of a ripe strawberry.

hearing jake say the phrase 'my favorite girl' made your stomach erupt with butterflies. he made you feel so special, so pampered, so... loved?

wanting to seem as if you weren't trying viciously to control yourself from giggling into your pillow, you slickly responded to him with a flirty tone.

"hmm... maybe drive over to her house and find out."

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the sound of knocking on your door came to the front of your mind after a few seconds of being distracted by fixing your hair. you sped over to the front door from the bathroom to open it up, a bit eager to see jake. you were greeted by jake's smiley face as he held out some luxurious roses that he'd bought for you.

"aww, puppy," you gushed with adoration as you melted into a puddle of bashfulness, making jake blush in return, "so sweet." jake pulled you closer upon placing the bundle of roses onto the counter next to perry's bowl.

"i missed you," jake pouted before pulling you into a kiss, his soft, plump lips sending a swarm of butterflies into your whole body. "jake, we saw each other two days ago." you pointed out with a light chuckle after breaking away from the kiss. "well," he started, "i always miss you when you're not around."

you felt your stomach do a flip upon hearing jake tell you that information. of course, you felt the same way, but you definitely weren't going to voice it because you didn't think you'd physically be able to.

"you don't have to miss me anymore," you smiled against his chest, "we get to spend the whole day together." jake let out one of his excited giggles as he trailed his hands down to your lower back in a somehow non-sexual way; it felt more comforting than sexual if anything.

"well, i have some news before we start our day together," jake announced, his hand trailing up to your chin to tilt it upward, giving you no choice but to look at his pretty face as you nodded for him to continue, "i'm going to japan for a business conference, and-"

"wait, when? when are you leaving? how long are you gonna be there? ... when are you coming back?" your mouth spilled out questions because of unexpected worry, causing you to interrupt jake before he could even finish his statement.

"hey, hey, don't worry, princess. you didn't let me finish," jake reassured you with a pretty smile, "i was gonna ask if you wanted to come with me, silly."

your eyes lit up and widened at the thought of going on a trip with jake. him asking you to come to japan with him felt like a dream in itself.

without any hesitation, you responded with "i'd love to!" to which jake gave you a toothy grin as he held you close, his heart feeling just as eager as yours at the thought of going on your first trip together. he took a second to ponder everything that he wanted to do with you in japan.

going out for walks at night when the city is all lit up, trying out a new restaurant, going to a cute little animal café, shopping (of course), and, most importantly, getting to watch the beautiful cherry blossoms together which is something he's always wanted to do with you.

jake could barely hide his excitement before making you throw on an outfit, that matched his, of course, and dragging you out to buy new clothes for the trip.

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"i think this one is perfect, yeah?" you let out a content sigh, smiling as you spun around for jake to see the pretty garment from all angles. "it's hard for me to give an opinion considering that i think you look beautiful in everything," jake chuckled shyly as he adored you, "besides, you can choose any and all the clothes you want; no limits. so i'm sure we'll find a bunch more things that look perfect on you even after we buy this one."

you always loved going out shopping with jake, not just because you could literally buy everything you laid your eyes on, but also because jake always made you blush with his sweet compliments that never failed to give you a bit of self confidence.

the shopping trip was far from over, and let's just say that you two were about be the best-dressed people in japan for the duration of your stay.

after purchasing the garment, you two moved from store to store all throughout the shopping center until you felt content with all the pretty clothes and accessories jake bought for you. he even took it upon himself to get a few pieces of clothing for himself that coordinated with the outfits you chose. along with everything else the two of you bought that day, jake decided that the last touch should be something matching, so he took you into a dior store and let you pick out a pretty diamond choker then finding one for himself that looked similar to the one you chose.

going on shopping sprees with jake never failed to astound you; it seemed that the final price at the end of the day got higher and higher after every individual shopping session that you two have gone on. were you getting used to it? yes. do you still have underlying guilt for spending that much money? absolutely.

after spending what felt like, and probably was, millions of dollars, there was one more stop that jake wanted to make before going back home.

he led you into a fancy, luxury lingerie store that made you gulp nervously, not knowing what he had up his sleeve. jake was very mischievous when it came to stuff like this, so you wouldn't be surprised if he had some dirty intentions.

jake approached the counter as he waved at the employee who was working behind it. you watched as she blushed over jake once he began to talk to her, making you feel a bit of discomfort at the way jake seemed to talk to her with such finesse. her building flirtatiousness took over your mind, causing you to subconsciously pull jake closer to you. jake immediately noticed your nonverbal action and knew exactly what was bothering you, after all, you two spent a majority of your time together so of course he eventually began to pick up on your body language.

"anyway," jake smiled, "i'm here to pick up and order that i placed a few days ago." the employee seemed to be caught off guard by jake's sudden change in demeanor but still proceeded to ask him for his order details although she had zero time to process why his tone switched so suddenly. she turned around to check the shelf with neatly placed boxes that were tied off with gold, shimmery ribbons to look for the box that was labeled with his name.

"is it this one?" she asked, undoing the bowtie to reveal the contents of the, very extravagantly decorated, box. your eyes widened upon seeing the garments, them specifically being custom lingerie sets. you couldn't control the way your face was beginning to turn bright pink upon laying your eyes on the pretty panties that had 'jake,' 'daddy's girl,' and 'princess.' embroidered on the fabric in shimmery pink thread. you thought it was over, but nope, there was another layer of tissue paper covering more of the box's contents. jake gently moved the tissue paper to the side only to reveal more risqué garments.

pink lace lingerie, thigh garters, sheer bralettes, more custom embroidered panties decorated with cute, tiny bows, basically everything that he wanted to see you in.

jake is such a horndog for buying all this stuff for you, but you couldn't lie and say it wasn't making your stomach jump at the thought of what was going through jake's mind when he was ordering everything.

"yup this is the one," jake smiled innocently as if he didn't do anything cheeky.

once the employee turned the box to face her so that she could tie the ribbon back up, her face immediately turned bright red at the sight of what was inside the box. she scrambled to knot the ribbon and quickly pushed the box back toward jake. you couldn't tell if the look on her face was one of jealousy, flustered-ness, or both.

"you are such a dirty boy," you scolded jake with a light smack on his bicep as he giggled, "i can't believe you actually bought all that." jake couldn't help the smirk that formed on his face as he looked down at you, your face still pink from being flustered. "i can't tell if you're pleasantly surprised or surprised in a shocked sense," he chuckled as he held you close to him while the two of you walked back to his car. "a bit of both," you laughed in response.

"oh, the things you drive me do, y/n... you have no idea."

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you, stupidly, decided to pack for your trip to japan last minute which caused you to scramble around to make sure you had everything you needed before jake came to pick you up.

honestly, it was a lot easier to pack since you had way more clothes and outfits that jake curated for you; digging through your wardrobe for decent clothes to wear on vacation was now a thing of the past. you were done packing before you expected to be, so you had a bit of downtime before jake would arrive.

just before you pulled your phone out of your pocket, you felt it vibrate.

you let out a light chuckle after your little text conversation with yeji ended, but you couldn't help but begin to think about those cheesy things even though they were far from your reality. you wondered if that's how you and jake looked like from an outside perspective.

a couple.

just as you were about to get lost in your thoughts again, the doorbell rang. 'thank god,' you thought to yourself as you ran to answer the door. you opened up the door, surprised to see that jake had suddenly changed his hair color again.

"woah, since when were you blond again?" you chuckled as you pulled jake closer to you, hugging him and letting his cologne blind your senses. "since earlier this morning," jake responded with a sheepish smile, "just wanted to change things up again. d-do you like it?" he asked with a nervous tone to which you giggled. "i love it," you reassured him as you played with strands of his freshly dyed hair, "as much as i love your natural hair, i've missed the blond; it makes you look like a cute fuzzy puppy." jake's ears began to turn pink at your sweet compliment which made you giggle and give him another tight hug.

"we should get going now," jake pointed out as he glanced at his expensive cartier watch, "lemme get your bags for you." you let out a hum in response, a smile subconsciously growing on your face due to jake's gentlemanly gesture. the fact that this was how he genuinely acted without request always made your heart beat a bit quicker than usual.

he's sweet.

jake is so sweet.

getting into the car, jake began to head over to the airport. your stomach couldn't help but feel funny due to a bit of flight anxiety.

odd for you considering you've never been on a plane before.

"i'm kinda nervous," you voiced with a light chuckle, "i've never..." jake looked over to you with wide eyes, shocked at the new piece of y/n lore. "so... it's your first time?" jake joked cheekily, earning a light smack on the arm from you as became red in the face. "yes, it's "my first time," jake," you bickered back jokingly.

"i promise you'll be okay, princess," jake reassured you with a kiss on the cheek while you two waited at a traffic light, "i'll be there the whole time."

--------------------------------------------------------

once you pulled into the private parking lot of the (rich people) part of the airport, you were unpleasantly surprised by a decent-sized swarm of reporters with cameras. you looked over at jake with a bit of a concerned expression on your face.

"oh, that," jake smiled nervously, putting one of his hands on the nape of his neck, "whenever one of the company's heirs goes on a business related trip without the head of the company, it's seen as a huge deal. oh and also-"

knock, knock, knock.

jake was interrupted by knocks on the window, startling both you and him. looking over, you saw the face of the man who you'd rather not be seeing at the moment.

sunghoon.

excited, jake opened his door, hopping out of the car to greet one of his best friends. it made you feel rather uneasy to witness them interact; not because you didn't like or sunghoon or anything like that, but because you wondered how things could be so chill between them even though you unknowingly fucked jake's best friend.

were you the only one who couldn't get over it? the only one who still felt gut-wrenching guilt?

jake peeked his head into the car, smiling at you nervously before telling you the not-so-great news that you, him, and his friends would all be flying in the private plane together.

you felt your stomach drop, knowing that you'd be stuck in a floating metal tube with his friends for roughly two hours. and on top of that, it's your first time flying. you just shook everything off, remembering that jake was kind enough to let you tag along. that's all that matters, right?

once you were done freaking out, you opened the car door to step out. you so badly wanted to avoid the paparazzi, not ready for the press to be writing about you and jake again, and it'll probably be worse this time around considering that you're with him alongside his friends. 'stay calm,' you scolded yourself as you walked over to help jake unload the luggages from the trunk of his car.

"don't worry, i got it, princess," jake smiled warmly after tucking some of your hair behind your ear and leaning in for a peck on the cheek. it made you nervous to be kissed by jake with so many cameras around. you hoped and prayed that they didn't get a shot of it because of obvious reasons. people who worked for the private flight company began to load the plane with everyone's bags as you, jake, jay and heeseung (jake's two friends that you'd met previously) and of course sunghoon started to head over to the plane's entrance.

jake held your hand while leading you over to go up the ladder to get into the plane, continuing to hold your hand with every step up you took. you could practically feel the cameras all over you and jake, but he didn't seem to mind for some reason.

and as if the situation couldn't get any more shocking, you were pleasantly greeted by the interior of the private aircraft.

private seating if you wanted to be alone, group seating if you wanted to mingle with the other people who you're on the flight with, and two little closed off cabin rooms which was crazy because you didn't think that was a real thing.

"go ahead and sit wherever you want, princess," jake told you, letting you pick out where you wanted to spend the duration of your plane journey. "can we maybe," you looked down, becoming bashful, "use one of the rooms." you shyly suggested to which jake couldn't help smirk. "whatever my princess wants, she gets," jake remarked, giving you a passionate kiss on the lips, "go ahead and wait in there for me, okay?" you looked into his pretty eyes and nodded, opening the door to reveal a comfy looking bed, overhead storage, and a little window. closing the door behind you, you went to go sit on the bed.

"is this actually my life now?" you asked yourself quietly as you looked around at your surroundings. you still weren't used to it despite all the time you've spent with jake. more often than not, you were wondering how you, a, now graduated, broke college student working at a bar, managed to end up in this situation. you were thankful, yes, but it still left you feeling overwhelmed by everything that came along with living this type of lifestyle. midway through getting lost in your thoughts, you heard the door handle twist, being greeted by jake's pretty face.

"we'll be taking off now, okay?" jake informed you as he walked over to the bed and pulled you close, "i'll be here if you're nervous." you nodded, cuddling up to him while fearing the fact that you were about to be so high in the sky. simply hearing the plane engine start was enough to freak you out. jake felt you tense up as the plane began to take flight.

"hey, hey," jake comforted you, "focus on me, okay? you'll be alright." you nodded though you grew shy from looking at his pretty face. jake chuckled, pulling you on top of his lap and holding your face in his hands. "that's right, my pretty girl."

instinctively, you pushed your hips onto his, prompting jake to bring his hands to your waist. "needy?" jake asked, "in this situation?" he teased. "i-i didn't mean to," you sputtered out nervously to which jake shut you up with a passionate kiss. "well, do you want to?" jake asked curiously as he ran his hands all of your body, eventually trailing them down to your ass. "mhm," you responded, "please?" jake kissed your neck as you continued to grind on his clothed member. you don't know when or how, but your clothes were now discarded to the side, your lips on jakes as you stroked his length with your hand. you loved the groans and light whimpers that jake let out as you pleased him with your hands, and you were eager to let him use your body.

when he felt like the time was right, jake lifted you up and sat you down on his length, causing you to moan out as you held onto his shoulders. "so warm and wet for me," jake spoke lowly in your ear, sending shivers down your whole body. "just for y-you," your voice quivered as you roughly moved your hips on his, wanting to feel him deep inside you. "mhm, all for daddy," jake smirked while squeezing your pretty ass, "no one else but me." you nodded with a whimper in response.

jake pushed your hips further down onto his, wanting his tip to perfectly hit your little sweet spot. you whined as your thighs trembled, already feeling overstimulated from his length. you found yourself glancing to the side at the small window to which jake placed his hand on your chin to face back at him. "focus on me, baby," jake said softly, giving you a peck on the lips and rolling his hips against yours. you gasped and moaned out at the sudden waves of pleasure traveling from your inner thighs to your core.

"turn around," jake demanded after lifting you off of him to which you, of course, complied. you pushed your hips toward him as you arched your back eagerly, begging him to fuck you more. "that's a good girl," jake smirked, teasing your entrance with his swollen tip before fully pushing himself inside. "s-so good," you stuttered out in between moans and whines, "w-want your cum so bad."

jake bent forward to lift you up, your back now against his chest as he thrusted upward into you. you tightly gripped onto one of his forearms while he kissed your neck, your pussy aching. "mmh," you moaned out, "feels so good, daddy." jake groaned for you as he caressed your inner thighs, causing you to shiver. "i know, princess," jake chuckled sexily, "fuck, it feels so good to be deep inside you. it's your first time flying and all you can think about is being stuffed with my cock, huh?" you nodded and whimpered in response. "m-mhm," you managed to sputter out between moans, "always want you s-so bad."

it wasn't long until jake finally let loose, ropes of his hot cum painting your walls white.

putting you down, he gave you some time to catch your breath before giving you a few kisses.

"you're so cute," jake said out of nowhere. "where did that come from?" you questioned with a chuckle as your cheeks turned pink. "just wanted to point it out," he shrugged with a smile, "now go ahead and rest for the remainder of the flight, princess."

--------------------------------------------------------

once the flight landed, you were forced to wake up from your nap which you weren't very happy about. upon getting off the plane and into the car that would take you and the others to the fancy airbnb, jake decided to keep you separated from his pestery friends because he knew that they'd only make you grumpier.

you spent the duration of the car ride with your head on jake's shoulder, trying not to fall asleep yet again and wanting to enjoy the view of the sunset over the city. unfortunately, you ended up drifting off to sleep again which jake found cute after watching how desperately you tried to keep your eyes opened. upon arriving to the place you would be staying at for the duration of the trip, jake, still keeping you a good distance away from his friends, brought you into one of the rooms so you could lay down and rest. he assisted you in getting changed into one of his shirts before you laid down on the cloud-like bed.

"you're so cute when you're sleepy," jake gushed as you wrapped yourself in the duvet, "i'll be right outside in the lounge area with the guys; we're gonna catch up a bit before we go to sleep. i'll be here later, okay?" you nodded sleepily in response, grabbing him closer by his hoodie sleeve so that he could give you one last kiss before leaving the room.

your drowsiness was really getting the best of you, causing you to expose your vulnerability and yearning for jake and his presence. you felt queasy at the thought of jake possibly thinking that you were being too needy. you also felt an odd sense of uneasiness from all the intimate moments that you and jake shared throughout the whole day because it felt almost wrong to be so intimate with someone who isn't even your boyfriend. jake isn't your boyfriend, but why do you feel so comfortable giving yourself to him? you began to feel somewhat guilty about your natural instincts when it came to being around him, but you couldn't seem find it in you to stop. why did it all feel so natural?

your thoughts were brought to a halt when you felt jake touch you.

"oh, and one more thing," jake added, "i need you to hold something for me until i get back in here." confused, you cocked your head to the side, squishing your face deeper into the pillow.

jake motioned for you to hold out your hand, and once you did, he gave you a kiss on your palm, rolled your hand into a fist, and let you move your hand back toward yourself.

you couldn't control the way your stomach flipped and the amount of blood rushing to your cheeks as jake flashed his cute smile.

"and you can give that kiss to me later when i come back."

--------------------------------------------------------

you found yourself in a haze and half awake after what you presumed was a few hours. jake still wasn't in bed with you, but you could hear him chatting with his friends just outside your room which put you at ease. as much as you tried not to, you ended up eavesdropping on their conversation and were shocked to hear that you were the topic of discussion.

"poor y/n," one of his friends joked as he took a sip of alcohol, "jake really dragged her all the way out here because he can't survive 5 minutes without her." his friends laughed in response as jake's face turned red.

"hey!" he sulked, "i-it's not that." he responded shyly, taking a small sip of his drink.

"then what is it, hm?" another one of his friends questioned with a smirk plastered on his face.

"well, i-i just thought it'd be fun to go on a trip, y'know? s-she's never been here before, so i wanna show her around, right?" jake sputtered out, the mild interrogation being enough to make him sober from the alcohol him and his friends had been drinking, "i already have some things planned out; i just wanna show her a good time."

"a different kind of good time for once," one of the guys joked again, "c'mon, man, we all heard the two of you earlier." hearing one of his friends admit that made him get shy again as they all continued to tease him. "hey, we gotta give jake some credit," another friend chimed in, "he knows what he's doing if you know what i mean. not every guy can make a girl moan like that-"

"okay," jake said with panicked chuckle, stretching out the last syllable of the word he spoke, "i think it's time we all got some rest. after all, it's getting a little late, right?" his friends laughed at his bashfulness but agreed that they really should get some rest. "wait, don't turn off the lights yet," jake said holding out one of his hands, "i need to get a glass of water to put on y/n's bedside table." one of his buddies let out a light sigh followed by a wholesome chuckle. "how do you manage to remember all these little things about her?"

"well," jake's voice trailed off as he poured a glass of cold water for you,

"she's my everything."

--------------------------------------------------------

a/n: chapter 13 is finally here after literal months! thank you all for being so patient with me throughout these past few months :,) it means a lot that you've stuck around with me 🩷 now that school and exams are over and it's officially summer break, i'll have an abundance of free time to write for you all! pls look forward to more updates from me 🩷

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tyxoxo · 1 year

Text

Cherry Waves

pairing: jeno x fem!reader

genre: thriller, angst, kidnapper/stalker jeno au, jaemin + mark inserts

words: 11.9k

warnings: stalking, kidnapping, murder, blood, knives, cnc smut, oral, fingering, choking/breath play, voyeurism, spitting, unprotected sex, its lowkey giving incel, post-traumatic stress, stockholm syndrome

(this is purely fiction, warnings in bold mean potentially triggering cotent)

a/n: the feds prolly looking at my search history like “👀” but on another note, this is the longest piece of writing i’ve ever published. so pls pls pls! send feedback! this was a rollercoaster of a fic to write ._.

major hugs and kisses to @glitchfiles for helping me decide on an ending and @pradajaehyun for proofreading!

playlist:

deftones - cherry waves • rosemary • bored • be quiet and drive

clams casino - blast

—

“i’m kind of scared. do you think it’ll bite?”

“noo, don’t worry baby. it won’t. squirrels are always welcome to food.” your boyfriend reassured you, chuckling in the presence of your endearing timidness.

the two of you were currently exploring a nature park, choosing to celebrate your 5 year anniversary in the outdoors, away from the bustling city life.

“here, just take the almond and approach them slowly, they’ll come.” he said as he handed you one to start, out of the bag that read Blue Diamond Almonds.

“how about you go first?”

the two of you shared a laugh, your partner nonetheless agreeing to demonstrate.

just like you expected, he took one almond in his hand and began to tread softly over to a family of kits, and a mother. the four were eagerly awaiting the treat, using their noses to scour over to him. one baby squirrel was more brave than the others as the rest halted once your boyfriend began to kneel down.

in one sniff and a switch of its tail, the squirrel grabbed the almond and hurried back to his family.

“see! not that hard! your turn.” he rose up in the process, standing close by in case you opted out.

“alright, here i gooo.” you geared up the courage, doing exactly as he did, approaching softly towards the group of squirrels.

you cocked your head to the side in curiosity at the fact they all ran away in unison, back into the green shrubs they called home. and with not enough time to save you, you heard the scuffing of shoes against pavement and a loud crack sound to follow.

as you turned towards the deafening sound, your boyfriend collapsed onto the floor, his head making contact with the concrete in just as strong of a crash that you heard just mere seconds before.

you weren’t sure if a scream managed to escape, as the hooded figure armed with the hammer made sure that you weren’t conscious to tell the tale.

—

the constant motion of your head banging against a hard surface is what stirred you. your eyelids were heavy, not just from the forced slumber, but from the blood that managed to seep down from your scalp and cake onto your skin. the familiar smell of iron flooded your senses, reminding you of your current state.

somehow you were moving, not on your own accord. you couldn’t have been... your hands and feet were bound with what felt like rope, based on the friction as it dug in your skin.

you were moving inside a van, laying down in a fetal position, with your boyfriend across from you doing the same; though he didn’t seem to be conscious.

it was hard to tell if he was breathing, due to the jounce of the van driving over rough terrain.

the entire vehicle wasn’t average, all of the backseats were gone, not even folded down into a compartment. it felt industrial, with what seemed like new steel framework covering the entire interior.

you lacked the energy to produce any sound, let alone turn to the direction of the driver's seat to see who was transporting you. the salt from your tears was the last you could recall before falling back into a deep sleep.

—

to say you reanimated back in the comfort of your own home, with your partner by your side would be the highlight of your life. to say that what all happened was merely a dream.

yet, your harsh reality was thrust upon you once you awoke again. all of your limbs were still bound, with the only appropriate action being observing where you were now.

you were placed on a cold, grey concrete floor, plastic tarp covering the walls and ceiling, with a single LED work light standing in the corner offering plenty of illumination. a standalone workbench was positioned against the left wall, with an abundance of mechanical tools to satisfy any technician.

you knew you were still covered in your own blood, but the smell wasn’t there anymore. instead the nauseating odor of overused bleach coming from a nearby bathroom overtook your senses.

your vision finally began to focus on your boyfriend who was lying directly across from you.

you weren’t sure if your attacker merely forgot to tape your mouths shut in a haste or simply didn’t care. either way, you used what freedom you had left to call out, your scream resonating enough to wake him up.

he winced, teeth covered in crimson from the aftermath of his blunt force trauma. once he met your eyes, tears began to well; relieved to know he was breathing, but pained to see him struggling for clarity.

he scanned the room, just as you did, then settled upon your crying eyes.

“are you okay?! please, tell me you’re okay!”

he was selfless just like always, more concerned about your well-being than his own.

“i-im okay.”

truly you weren’t. your head was pounding, and your arms were beginning to fall asleep from being bound.

“i’m sorry i couldn’t protect you. im-”

“no! don’t say that! we need to get out of here now!” you cut him off immediately, not wanting his words to add onto the anguish you were already feeling.

“just stay there and i’ll come to you.”

you nodded as he began to shimmy along the cold floor, using his coarse shoe soles to push along the concrete.

he paused every other moment, most likely feeling dizzy from his injury.

your hopes were crushed when he was halfway. the sound of multiple door locks being fidgeted with, echoed throughout what you assumed to be the basement. the door creaked, and slammed shut even louder. your boyfriend stopped moving, knowing the end was potentially near.

the view of who or what coming down the stairs was obstructed by the tarp covered wall but within seconds, you saw a man.

who didn’t bother to cover his face.

you kept the fact that he was attractive repressed in your mind. it was more important to realize that you would likely die here now that you saw what he looked like.

he was tall, lean, and young. couldn’t have been much younger or older than you. with raven dark hair that was long enough to form somewhat of a mullet. his bangs covered most of his blank expression, though it didn’t take much squinting to realize his irises were black. an evil black.

your memory was too foggy to remember if he was wearing the same clothes as before. but the white dress shirt, and black slacks didn’t seem familiar; especially the black butcher’s apron.

he stopped at the base of the stairs upon seeing your boyfriend’s attempts to get close to you.

“we can give you whatever you want. we have money. take our cards, whatever. just let us go please!”

he ignored your boyfriend’s pleas, choosing not to even look at him. instead, his eyes bore deep in your own.

fear grew in the pit of your stomach. there were only a few things a guy like him would want from you and the thought of him taking not only your life, but your body shook you down to your bones.

your boyfriend must’ve assumed the same based on his whirling eyes between you and your attacker.

you wished to give him a name, something to represent his depravity. but all thoughts were paused once he began walking slowly in the direction of the workbench.

there was a toolbox and a rolled up utility belt waiting for him, it was just a matter of choice.

he rustled through the box, creating enough noise to elicit terror for the both of you.

it didn’t take long for him to choose one, the light in the corner bouncing off of the stainless steel bowie knife that he pulled from it.

he inspected the blade and it’s sharpness in silence, ignoring the sobbing coming from your disheveled body.

“kill me and just let her go!”

your boyfriend’s cries didn’t go unnoticed, as the mephisto of a man paused his inspection, eyebrows raising as if he would accept that offer.

seeing his side profile from his position at the workbench sparked faint recollection within you.

why did he look familiar?

—

Four Months Ago

—

jeno still wasn’t good enough at adapting to his new life of carnage.

how did he not know that a decomposing body would attract maggots, no matter how “clean” he kept his basement bathroom.

the life he claimed was an “accident.”

atleast that’s what he told himself.

but could a life taken after rejection still be considered an accident? maybe.

the girl took too long.

he cooked for her, provided clothes for her, gave her a place to sleep. yet she was never accepting of his affection.

it was just four days ago that he had to rush to the emergency room on his own volition, to have a laceration on his collarbone stitched. the bitch barely missed his subclavian.

he was beginning to be more lenient after holding her captive at his house for 2 weeks. though he wasn’t sure if there was a beginner’s guide on “how long it should take to actually let a hostage begin to roam your house.” but he learned his lesson after dinner, when she ran towards the kitchen sink and grabbed the sashimi knife.

every attending nurse asked what happened, but he continued to blame it on a “freak accident”: trying to transport a porcelain attachment on his shoulders, tripping and ultimately earning a gash.

somehow they bought it.

ten stitches later, he was discharged. seething at the teeth, he sped back to his house to finish her. he couldn’t have another slip up like that again.

that night he brought the blade into her neck, earning her a matching cut.

it was the first and last time she was ever brave.

now here jeno was, at a utility store in search of his first shovel. he wasn’t picky, he just needed something sturdy enough to help dig his first grave.

off into the distance, he saw you. innocently scanning the shelves for new vanity light bulbs.

you were absolutely perfect.

he felt a sudden magnetic pull to be near you, even smell you. but he had to resist the urge; there was a decomp job waiting for him at home.

it probably wasn’t a good idea to approach you either, as there was a possibility the smell of putrefaction was beginning to attach to his clothes.

from that day on, jeno had been watching you for months.

every outfit you wore, every doe-eyed expression, every bite of your lip was all for him.

even though the two of you were never formally introduced, he knew the proper time would come.

so far he had done well becoming acquainted from afar: he knew where you worked, your grocery store of choice, your primary care doctor, even your favorite drink at the local café.

there was still so much left to uncover. now, he set the goal of finding out your birthday, just to send a batch of flowers to your job when the time came; labeled anonymous of course.

but the dreams of becoming your admirer were crushed the day that jeno found out you had a significant other. he almost chucked the vase he was holding. he didn’t need a vase, he was merely there because you and your boyfriend were at a furniture store, eyeing a new couch for your living room. it was just a method for him to blend in.

he kept his composure so as not to draw attention nor have to pay the store for damages.

the boy you called “babe” was average, nowhere near your level. but you clutched onto him like he was the only thing that mattered.

what did he have, that jeno didn’t?

the obvious answer was you.

jeno sat the vase down before storming out of the store, causing the bell atop of the door to slam and chime throughout the showroom. you actually turned to the direction of the entrance, somewhat alarmed at how loud it rang through the store.

fortunately, you were too late to see him.

that night, jeno began plotting his second abduction. it would be a challenge, no doubt.

he would ultimately regret if you got hurt in the process, but with enough love, he could prove that he was sorry.

and now that his “ex” was taken care of, he could finally focus.

there was a small checklist he made within a couple of days: buy a van, have the backseats removed and fitted with steel.

luckily money wasn’t an issue. but he did get a few weird glances from the auto modifications shop at his request.

“you don’t seem like the type to want a van decked out like this?” the automotive stylist said while looking over jeno’s new 12-seater.

he was sly enough to come up with a lie, plus the amount of money he was willing to drop was all that was needed to seal the deal.

jeno considered himself well-equipped from first girlfriend, it was just a matter of time and preparation before you were his second...

—

Present

—

you couldn’t hold back your screams, not when the love of your life was on his knees, being held at knife point.

“please! stop! you don’t have to d-do this!”

you thrashed on the floor, tears painting your cheeks, mucus staining your upper lip.

jeno had dragged your boyfriend back to his original position with his knife in hand, eventually standing behind him.

he took a handful of your lover’s hair to cock his head back, exposing an array of veins lining his neck.

“i love you so much…” was the last you would ever hear, causing jeno to furrow his brow and snarl in disgust.

the life you once knew was taken in a slash, jeno’s right hand swiping the serrated blade along your boyfriend’s stained skin.

your ears rang from the sound of metal against flesh, all of the tendons snapping at once. velvet poured from the now-open cavity, splattering onto the tarp and jeno’s bare hands.

your guts felt twisted, hearing the gurgling sounds of blood clogging his airway. seeing his eyes roll back into his sockets. so lifeless.

jeno let the body fall on its own.

he was inexplicably satisfied. the pig you called “babe” was now out of the picture, merely a slab of dead meat.

you curled into a ball, letting your head fall to the floor, entire soul succumbing to emptiness.

you simply didn’t care if you were next.

jeno stepped over the corpse and towards you, knife still in hand. with a swipe of his nose, he kneeled down in front of your shaken form, the least bit bothered by the blood smeared on his septum.

you didn’t even flinch when he tossed the knife down, barely missing your chest when it came to a stop on the floor.

“when i come back, we’ll be formally introduced.”

with a click of his tongue he rose up, leaving as if he didn’t just rip out your heart.

it didn’t take long for your boyfriend’s blood to run across the basement floor, the rest clotting near his open throat.

you let the warmth of the dark fluid envelop you. soaking deeper and deeper into your clothes.

—-

“shhh. shouldn’t we be quiet?”

you heard the whispered voice of a woman, giggling in between her words.

your eyes fluttered open, taking a while to adjust from the tears that crystallized over your eyelashes.

how many hours, or days has it been?

based on the way your clothes were now brittle from the dried blood, and the sea of black covering the floor, it had been a while.

unfortunately, your subconscious wasn’t able to repress the memories of your dead boyfriend, not when his cold, stiff body was still on the floor.

his skin had blotched purple, showing signs of livor mortis, his irises a milky white.

“no its fine. come here.”

you heard the familiar voice of your abductor, as he ushered the woman down the basement stairs.

excitement littered both of their faces, the girl hopping from the last step and into his arms.

you didn’t care to recall her appearance, the only thing worth mentioning was her frilly dress and kitten heels.

did she not even react to the scene in front of her? a corpse, and your starving body, still tied up, on a soiled basement floor?

she continued to giggle, keeping her hands on his chest.

“this is amazing…you’re so fucking hot.” her ear-grating words were swallowed by the heavy kiss they shared, attacking each other’s mouths. if it wasn’t for the mess, you were sure that he would’ve slammed her against the tarp covered wall.

his hands explored her body, lifting up the ruffled fabric to expose her ass, squeezing ever so often to hear her whine in pleasure.

you tried your hardest to block out the sounds of their smothered lips. even slamming your eyes shut to fulfill the disbelief that flooded your brain.

“you know i did this for you right?” he spoke in between their labored breaths, pulling away for air.

“of course i did…now can i show you how grateful i am?”

he nodded, palming himself through his black pants.

the girl guided him towards his workbench, pushing his back into the chilled metal table, seeming dominant in her quest to show thanks.

her hands trailed down to his belt buckle, freeing the clasp. you could hear his zipper being undone, and the sigh of relief once she started touching him in the right places.

you didn’t have the strength to demand them to stop, nor the freedom to end your own life. either decision would only fuel her to go slower.

the she-devil got down on her knees, pulling down his pants, giddy at the sight of him with no underwear. his dick sprang free from its confines, snapping back onto his chiseled groin. the girl squealed in satisfaction, to see that he was just as big as her face.

a growl erupted from his throat as she took him in her small hands and licked along the underside of his cock.

she welcomed him in her drooling mouth, keeping her eyes glued to his look of satisfaction. he wasted no time fucking her face, eyes darting between you and the corpse he created.

you winced at every gag you heard, every tug of his lips between his teeth.

she was struggling to fit what she could, even tapping his thighs, signaling to stop. but he wasn’t concerned for her effort.

he was busy swimming in pure ectasy, getting off to the chaos he created.

through it all, you finally managed to mutter the words,

“please kill me…”

—

Day 2

—

the snapping sounds were becoming too hard to ignore. you couldn’t drown them out any longer.

your eyes focused on him again, attempting to stuff the rigid corpse into a large black suitcase.

he panted as he tried to bend the unforgiving joints, fighting against the effects of rigor mortis.

his frustration was growing with every trial and error. and the smell of rotting flesh wasn’t helping either.

you were too catatonic to react…it was just another day in his world.

he eventually succeeded, feeling pleased to have the remains covered before it continued its cycle of decay.

in the corner of his eye, he saw you wiggling in your restraints, trying to make your limbs come alive again.

“who was that girl?”

your voice was crackly, barely audible from dehydration.

“what?” he said with obvious confusion, pausing to look over at your crippled frame.

“the girl you were with?” you gulped afterwards, trying your hardest to lubricate your vocal chords with what saliva you had left.

“must’ve been a nightmare…” he spoke under his breath, shameless in his look of concern.

somehow you believed him.

and the mere thought of dreaming something so wicked disgusted you.

you watched as he finished zipping up the suitcase, taking off his vinyl gloves and tossing them on top.

he then made his way over to you, kneeling down to untie the complex knots on your wrists and ankles.

you chose not to look at him, fearing he would change his mind and leave you there to molder in sorrow.

“i’ve hidden my name for long enough…jeno.”

his eyes managed a subtle smile through his introduction; the naturally occurring feature strangely matching his exterior. if he wasn’t a murderer.

once the ropes fell loose, you could barely resort back to mobility. it felt unnatural to finally be able to stretch after so long.

but now that you were somewhat free, you finally realized how filthy you were.

“i’ve got some cleaning up to do…there’s a bathroom for you to use over there. freshen up and then i can take you upstairs to the kitchen.” he pointed with his head over to the ivory bathroom, which seemed to be the only clean spot in the basement.

he had the decency to help you to your feet, watching as you struggled to gain equilibrium. you looked away into the direction of the bathroom, indicating you could help yourself now.

you didn’t bother glancing over to the workbench, figuring he was smart enough to put away his tools and weapons. you didn’t have the energy to defend yourself anyways.

the bathroom wasn’t far enough away to miss the smell of a festered corpse but you hoped by the time you showered, it would all be a bit better.

to your surprise, the bathroom was fully stocked: unopened toiletries, feminine products, shampoo, body wash, lotions, towels, everything you needed to feel alive again.

laying in the sink was an oversized t-shirt, sweatpants and socks, all in a vacuum sealed bag, which you assumed to be jeno’s. or maybe they belonged to a former victim. it didn’t matter as long as they were clean. anything was better than the battered clothes you had on now.

you closed the door and began to undress, keeping your body towards the door incase jeno barged in to take advantage of your naked form. though you doubted anyone would want to see the current state you were in.

raising your legs to get inside the fiberglass shower proved to be a challenge, even bending down to adjust the temperature of the water made your knees buckle.

but you eventually managed to rid yourself of the dried blood and sweat; water droplets masking your tears as you watched the black clumps flow down into the drain.

—

jeno was waiting for you outside the door, leaning against the wall that was now free of plastic sheets.

everything was spotless, or at least that’s what you could discern through your hooded eyes. the floor was free of biomass, all of the tarp was discarded, and the suitcase was nowhere to be found. most of all, the horrid odor was gone.

jeno eyed you up and down, satisfied with the floral smell coming from the lotion he bought you. he was always a fan of rose, and he hoped you were too.

he reached out his left hand for you to take, but you rejected the gesture, instead hugging your sides and looking down at your feet.

you could get up the stairs just fine.

or so you thought.

just as your feet made contact with the first step, you tugged on jeno’s shirt for support as he led the way.

you managed to miss the faint smile that painted his face, as you were too busy trying not to lose balance.

once you made it upstairs, you took in the interior. natural white oak floors, a spacious living room fitted with potted plants, a curtained patio sliding door, a small tv, with a gaming console placed just underneath in the stand, a glass coffee table, and a single white boucle couch that was surprisingly free of any suspicious stains.

the same could be said for the kitchen, shiny quartz countertops, and all steel appliances. you began to doubt if he afforded all of this on his own, but then you thought back to his extensive basement. maybe his career supported all of his dangerous endeavors.

your stomach instantely growled upon sitting at the kitchen bar. so loud that jeno managed to hear it as he began rummaging through the drawers for cooking utensils.

“i guess i should tell you the reason that you’re here.” jeno huffed as he began chopping up the raw food onto a cutting board. your heart dropped at his words; you weren’t sure if you could handle learning the reason right now.

“i’ve been watching you for quite a while now…i just knew from the very first time, that i had to prove my worth. prove that i could be everything you needed.”

you knew you weren’t mentally ready to play along with his insanity, nor try to earn his trust so soon. with his level of denial, your strategy needed time.

all you could do was be a listener and soak in his confession.

“i know i’ve done irreversible damage to you, so i don’t expect forgiveness. but at least let me give you the support you deserve to heal.”

you chose not to reply, it was best that way.

maybe through the silence, he would come to his senses.

as he continued to cook, you tried to look closely for any hints of him lacing the food. you weren’t afraid to deny sustenance in exchange for starvation.

but when you realized he was making a plate for himself, you felt less suspicious.

jeno arranged the food to look delectable, and placed everything neatly on trays, paired with a glass of water. he stood across the kitchen bar, eagerly awaiting your review before he took his first bite.

you picked at the rice with your fork, and tried your best not to tremble when you brought it up to your mouth and swallowed a few grains. he frowned when he noticed you trying to hold back tears.

what was so sad about a plate of food?

“i didn’t do anything to it.” he said sympathetically, but you let the tears fall anyway.

having a meal with the man that kidnapped you wasn’t anything to be delighted about. nonetheless, you grabbed more and more, slowly beginning to feel replenished.

jeno ate with you in silence, every once in a while watching the tears fall onto your plate.

you were sure that the lack of food for two days straight was the reason for the onset of nausea that creeped inside your body. the food didn’t taste bad, far from it. but the more you ate, the more you felt like you couldn’t keep it down.

a couple of spoonfuls remained, and once you set down your fork, you eyed the couch behind you in the living room.

laying on a soft surface for once, sounded the most appealing.

“can you help me to the couch?”

you knew he wouldn’t turn down your request. anything you could do to earn his trust, the better.

jeno was quick to assist, first, gathering the plates and placing them in the sink.

“i’ll put the leftovers in the fridge, just let me know when you want some more.” he said as he walked briskly to your position on the bar stool.

you didn’t dare move.

his soft hands grabbed both of your own, clasping somewhat too hard to get you to your feet. you faced him eye to eye, waiting for him to guide you.

but there was no motion from either of you; his chest mere centimeters from your own. his irises were such an uncomfortable black, soulless.

you couldn’t look away.

sweat formed in your hands, which you were sure that he could feel. yet, he didn’t let go. a sniffle from your runny nose seemed to have snapped him out of his reverie.

with no further time to waste, he helped you towards the living room, keeping hold of your clammy hands as you sunk down into the soft material. you winced as you swung your legs around to lay flat but immediately exhaled in relief at the plush cushions hugging your entire backside.

jeno brought your glass of water to the coffee table, and scooted the tv remote closer.

just the mere sight of the remote made you wonder if turning on the news right now would show hundreds of stories on you and your boyfriend's disappearance. or any leads on the suspect.

your family, your goals, your passions, all ripped away by someone that “cared” about you.

why couldn’t you bring yourself to scream at the top of your lungs to fill the void?

the desperate need for rest overpowered everything else. this was the most comfortable you had ever felt in a while.

you closed your eyes, drifting off into a deep sleep to the sound of running water from the kitchen sink.

—

you missed the answer to your question just half an hour later. it was motivation.

had you heard the sound of heavy knocks echoing off of the front door. you would’ve made your presence known, whether or not it was the police.

a youthful male voice yelled on the other side.

“jenooo! open up buddy!”

then a different voice spoke,

“dude! we know you’re in there!”

jeno froze from drying the dishes, only his eyes looking in the direction of the door.

it was mark and jaemin.

he thought he made it very clear, for them to never show up to his house unannounced.

ever since he began seeking you out, he made sure to send a text to them stating that “he’d been going through a rough time, that it was best to have as much privacy as possible. and to always shoot a text or a call before coming over.”

guess they didn’t want to respect his wish.

he carefully sat down the ceramic bowl on the counter and bolted towards your sleeping body.

he didn’t even need to spike your drink, it was obvious you were going to pass out from sleep deprivation and mental exhaustion.

jeno knitted his brow in disappointment. you looked so perfect like this, ready and willing to take what he could give. and now his friends had to ruin it.

sadly, he didn’t have time to be gentle.

your eyes immediately shot open at the feeling of him gripping your waist with one hand, and covering your mouth with the other.

“don’t fucking say a word.”

he snarled in your ear, spit accidentally hitting your lobe from how hard he spoke. he wrapped his veiny arm around your hips, forcing you away from the couch.

you had more energy than he thought, preventing him from getting a good enough grip to hoist you over his shoulders. you kicked at the coffee table, managing to knock over the glass of water onto the hardwood floor. he saw you turn your head towards the direction of the door from the sound of a few more knocks, those probably being the first you heard ever since they arrived.

he suffered through the discomfort of you gnawing at his fingers as he dragged you back towards the basement.

your measly struggle only allowed a single muffled scream to bounce against the crevices of his hands.

as he kicked the door open to the basement, he switched positions, this time dragging you down by a simple chokehold, causing your body to slump from the lack of circulation.

your heels knocked against each step, no longer having the adrenaline to fight back. he hurriedly grabbed the duct tape on the workbench, knowing he wouldn’t have enough time to do a thorough restraint.

it pained him to toss you onto the hard floor, just when you were beginning to find solace in his home. but he continued to tape your mouth, and your wrists, ripping the strips with his teeth.

he added plenty to your mouth, knowing you were smart enough to try and lick the adhesive.

you were disoriented enough from your elbows and knees striking the concrete, that he was able to sprint back upstairs, locking you inside.

there wasn’t as much of a mess when he returned, just a glass of water shattered into pieces on the floor. he ignored it for now, already coming up with an excuse for the slight disarray.

he wiped his hands free of your saliva before opening the door.

of course the two were excited to see him.

“took you long enough!” jaemin exclaimed before reaching in for a hug. jeno didn’t return the embrace, choosing to remain cold and statuesque.

the two friends could sense the tension, coming to their defense immediately.

“now before you get pissed, we sent you hella text messages and you never responded.” jaemin stepped back, raising up the palms of his hands.

“yeah and we were beginning to worry. is it okay if we come in and talk? just thought it would be nice to check on you.” mark followed suit with his concern, hoping jeno would permit them entry.

secretly, jeno was squeezing his side of the door handle to death, and internally, his blood was boiling.

he had an entire human being probably thrashing around in his basement, and two unmarked graves of his ex and your ex in his backyard.

now wasn’t the time.

but they were already here, and telling them to leave wouldn’t be easy.

“fine. but you can’t stay long. i have to go grocery shopping here soon.”

a complete lie.

jeno stood aside to let them enter, remembering to bring up the broken glass on the living room floor as they took off their shoes.

“be careful, i dropped a glass of water earlier. let me sweep it up first.” jeno made sure they stopped in their tracks before walking over to his coat closet to grab the broom and dustpan.

he swept up the crystal shards in seconds, mentally praying that they would want to do something other than just talk in silence,

something to drown out the potential noises you would make from downstairs.

—

unbeknowest to you, jeno was trying his hardest to appear unbothered as the three took turns playing Street Fighter.

he kept losing, which seemed unlike him. and not once yelling at the screen was unlike him too. mark and jaemin noticed his lack of excitement, but couldn’t brush it off any longer.

“you sure you’re okay?” mark looked over at jeno once the match ended.

“yeah i’m fine.”

“we can stop playing if you want. i get you’re not always in the mood.”

“no it’s fine. i need the distraction…”

jeno looked down at his controller, finding that to be the better option than locking eyes with either of them.

“is work kicking your ass? maybe you need a vacation…have some time away from all the bullshit.”

jaemin did have a point, but you were more important. vacation could wait.

—

had you finally been rescued? had the police finally traced him?

the lack of commotion from the rest of the house left you feeling hopeless. maybe the detectives were doing a welfare check, which wouldn’t account for much noise. jeno didn’t seem like the type to attack law enforcement nor turn himself in.

he’d only had you all to himself for a day now, you doubted he would give himself up so soon.

you managed to stand to your feet, thankful for the rush that prevented him from taping your ankles together.

you tried searching his workbench for any signs of a sharp object that could cut your wrists free. of course he locked everything away, and there didn’t seem to be a secret compartment.

you then ran up the stairs and placed your ear against the door.

all you could hear were two faint voices other than jeno’s. but they weren’t loud enough to discern their position in the world. either way, you had to make your presence known.

the length from the door to the stairs was non-existent, which meant you couldn’t get a head start to ram your shoulders into the steel material.

the least you could do was kick and shove it, just enough to indicate a disturbance.

you did all the above; sure to make his visitors look in the direction of the basement.

you were beginning to get overzealous in your attempts. you just knew you were going to be saved now.

just as you stepped back to increase what momentum you had, you felt gravity pull you down towards the trenches.

without any assistance from your hands to break your fall, your entire body tumbled down the staircase.

the uneasy sound of a pop rang under your skin, traveling all the way from your ankle.

as soon as your twisted body settled at the bottom of the staircase, you instantly knew.

he was definitely going to dispose of you now.

—

jeno thought he could never truly be mad at you. but when you decided to cause a scene downstairs, he knew a punishment was in order.

luckily, mark received a call from his girlfriend saying she needed help installing a new router in her apartment, and since jaemin rode together with him, they had to leave.

your pandemonium just began as the two put on their shoes and said their goodbyes, making sure to stress to him that if he ever needed to “rant or vent”, to give them a call.

his demeanor was like a switch as soon as he shut the door, his eyes darting over to the now silent basement, jaw clenched so hard that he could’ve tore a muscle.

maybe you realized your fate, he thought as he power walked over to the door.

the scene in front of him was far from what he could have ever guessed: you were sprawled on your back, laying in a pool of your own tears. as soon as he caught sight of your injury, he put two and two together.

you fell and sprained your ankle.

a faint sigh left his lips, and he rubbed his eyes as if to erase the mess you were now in.

your sobs grew louder as jeno made his way down the steps, hoping he would gain a conscious by the time he made it down.

to your surprise, jeno didn’t pull out a knife, neither did he wrap his hands around your neck and give it a fateful squeeze.

he bent down, carefully gathering your crippled legs together. with one brief exhale, he brought one arm around the back of your neck and the other under your bundled knees. he rose up effortlessly, without any need to readjust his footing.

you winced into his chest at the feeling of your ligaments pulling apart even further from hanging in the air.

but the pain seemed to have subsided for a split second as you looked up at the man carrying you bridal style up the stairs.

blemishless skin, pink lips, long eyelashes—

you interrupted your outlandish thoughts, choosing not to label him as outwardly flawless. you could burn in hell if you ever admitted so.

—

your foot had completely mutated, like you had swapped body parts with an alien.

somehow you were alive, and that’s all that mattered.

jeno took the time to carry you to his bedroom and place you on his king- sized bed. you didn’t even need to ask for help as he swung your legs onto the semi-firm mattress.

his entire room sported a similar Scandinavian design like the rest of his house, with more plants hanging from his bedroom window.

“my foot looks disgusting…” you thought you whispered low enough under your breath, but jeno managed a chuckle as he started gathering extra pillows from his closet to elevate your swollen ankle.

it sounded foreign, but oddly comforting.

“well, you managed a pretty decent tear. just be grateful it wasn’t your achilles, or i would’ve had to take you to the doctor…”

“how long do you think?”

“mmhm, three to four weeks. as long as you don’t put unnecessary pressure, it should be pretty painless. i have some ice packs in the freezer but i need to go digging for some pain pills. do you need anything else before i go get them?”

“a glass of water and blankets please.”

“of course.” he nodded at each request, making a mental checklist and walking off in the direction of the coat closet to gather the blankets.

you scooted back in the bed, letting the headboard support you while you sat in an upright position.

it didn’t take long for him to come back with a handful of all the things you needed.

a glass of water and ibuprofen lay on the adjacent nightstand, two pillows were placed underneath your ankles, three assorted blankets were folded neatly at the foot of the bed, two ice packs were wrapped in microfiber towels, and the fully stocked bathroom was just a few steps down the hallway to the right.

you already had a brief discussion with him on needing assistance to go to the bathroom, though it left you feeling rather uncomfortable. then you thought back to him buying feminine products—maybe it was less awkward than you thought.

as the evening progressed, jeno remained by your side, scrolling through his phone on the other half of the bed. he didn’t speak much, only checking every once in a while to see if you needed to pee, too much in fact.

he quickly realized your slight annoyance from his fifth time asking, deciding to keep quiet for the rest of the night.

you finally managed to rest with your eyes closed once the ibuprofen took away some of the discomfort, and within minutes, you drifted off.

—

3 Weeks Later

—

your recovery was painless just like jeno predicted. within a week, the swelling and bruising went down.

in the second week, you were able to walk to the kitchen to heat up your own food in the microwave.

considering jeno worked from home and couldn’t leave his office space that often, you tried your best to be self-sufficient.

through it all, he continued to cook and clean, creating somewhat of a new domestic lifestyle that you never thought was possible.

once he finished work at 6pm, he would come out of his office and into his bedroom where you spent your time reading. he would always refill your glass of water and lift the ice pack to take a peek at your ankle.

you never admitted to him that you missed interpersonal relationships or profound conversation, but there was something deep within you that thought maybe he could see it in your face everytime he brought you a snack from the pantry without saying a word.

in all honesty, you were afraid to bring up anything from his past. it wasn’t like the two of you were together and you had no idea he was a murderer.

he showed his true colors from the very beginning.

every night he slept on the far half of the bed, always starting off on his back, with one hand behind his head. once he hit deep sleep, he shuffled quite a bit until he found comfort being on his side, sometimes facing you, sometimes not.

you never awoke to snoring or his body making contact with yours. most nights you would wake from a nightmare, though you did a decent job at hiding it. some nights you couldn’t handle the agony that plagued your mind, laying there crying for hours.

just when you thought jeno couldn’t hear your sublte cries, he did. but what could he do to make it better?

in the final week, jeno did some makeshift physical therapy with you, testing your range of motion while you sat on the edge of the bed.

he seemed to be in deep concentration, even making sure the room was silent so he could listen for any popping sounds that would’ve indicated more recovery time.

“i don’t know if it’s just me, but i don’t look as stiff anymore.” you said as you watched jeno gently rotate your ankle clockwise, then counterclockwise.

“you certaintly don’t feel stiff. i think we’ve done everything right so far.” jeno smiled, quite impressed with how well his methods turned out for you. he let your foot come back softly against the bed before standing up.

your breath hitched when he positioned himself in between your legs, staring down into your glossy eyes.

jeno pondered on the thought of bringing up your sleepless nights. but he didn’t know of a correct way, or if there was one at all. the only thing he could do was make sure you had access to one pain pill at a time, for if the day came that you left him, he would leave the earth too.

you had “been with him” for almost a month now, and you managed to last longer than he thought.

he admired you for that.

“will i ever know who you are?”

your voice gave out, dwindling into thin air. jeno watched as you dropped your head to conceal what dignity you had left.

he used a single finger to prop you back up, ultimately deciding if an embrace would make it better.

there’s no way it could.

—

Day 32

—

this was the worst nightmare you’ve had yet.

the scene was too vivid, too real to let go of.

reliving the day your boyfriend died ate away at your soul and spit out what sanity you had left.

each time he died, the more he spoke to you, as if he wasn’t dead.

“you see that i’m quite dead. how awful.”

though his neck had just been slit, he laid there…staring at you…speaking so monotone, so robotic.

“why do you make me experience this over and over again? wake up. wake up. wake up.” he repeated to you.

your blood-curdling screams filled the bedroom; yet another sleepless night for not only you, but jeno too.

it was only recently that you began thrashing around the bed and filling the silent room with your grief-stricken cries.

there was no trying to hide it now…the pain became too much.

jeno immediately rose out of bed, enveloping your shaken body in a full embrace, the first time that he’d ever done so.

you continued to wail as if he wasn’t there.

“where is he-i need to see him! where did you put him?!”

you continued to repeat your demands, rocking back and forth in his arms.

jeno knew what you meant, but he was sure you truly didn’t need to know. if you were this broken down from the nightmares, there was no way learning the truth could make it all better.

jeno knitted his brow as you continued to shuffle within his broad frame.

he would never admit this to you, but these past few weeks have been miserable.

he was beginning to lose hope.

spraining your ankle was probably the best thing that could’ve happened; as bizarre as that sounded.

the two of you spent so much time together, and even though jeno could tell you wanted to know more about him, there just wasn’t a right time. not yet.

his past and how he came to be was best left unsaid. not until you seemed “better”, as the heavy load of his own trauma would’ve only made it worse for you.

and now here you were, still not “better.”

within the time that you began to gain control of your breathing, jeno contemplated his decision.

he let go of your body, rubbing his eyes to adjust better to the dark room.

you watched closely as he made his way around to you and held out his hand.

for the first time, you took it.

it was if you were still dreaming, but no longer fighting your night terror.

he guided you towards the living room patio door, walking slowly enough in regards to your recently healed ankle.

you seemed to have forgotten that the backyard existed, as you were so used to being in your own purgatory. nonetheless, you were eager to see the outdoors again, yet still unsure why he was taking you there.

jeno used his non-occupied hand to push the curtains away before unlocking the sliding door, still keeping his other hand interlocked with yours.

a slight breeze hit your face as the two of you stepped onto the patio.

even in the early morning, the moon still illuminated bright against the deciduous trees swaying in the wind. petrichor emanated from the dampened grass, soothing away your stresses immediately.

being outside for even just a second made up for all the lost time you spent in captivity.

maybe this is why jeno brought you here, to finally let you experience the beauty of the outdoors again; to take your mind off the troubles of your nightmares.

you remained behind him, peaking over his shoulder to admire the forgotten land you once accustomed yourself to.

still no words were spoken as he lead the way into the yard. you continued to hold his hand, finding comfort in the creases of his palms.

he came to a stop in the middle, and appeared to have been looking down at something. you furrowed your brow as he let go of your hand, already missing the contact that kept you down to earth.

once you stepped aside to be shoulder to shoulder, you immediately realized what this was.

your wish had been granted.

in front of you were two raised patches of dirt, one seemed to have settled more than the other. it appeared that grass had been planted, in an attempt to speed up the rate of growth on the disturbed level of soil.

your world shattered—crashing into the depths of pure misery and sorrow.

you fell to your knees, the softened mud painting your pajama pants deep brown.

all the tears you could’ve cried remained back inside the house. this time, your chest felt tight, constricting any sign of emotion.

jeno remained blank, gearing up for the words that would change your life forever.

he bent down to your level, knees settling into the mud, eyes glossed over.

he waited for you to look up from the two graves, almost considering if he should do this.

you met his eyes, just as dark as the sky.

“this will probably be the last time you ever see him.”

to you, his voice barely sounded human, morphed into the monster he truly was.

you felt a surge of fight or flight—a passion to fight for your survival.

it all became a blur as you lunged forward, grabbing both sides of his chiseled face and connecting your lips to his.

you couldn’t bear to keep your eyes open as you kissed him. for you knew that this way of self-preservation would haunt you if you made it out alive.

giving him what he wanted all this time, seemed to be the only logical way.

jeno welcomed your lips without falter, as if this was the answer.

his lips were soft, mending against your own like silk.

your hands remained attached to his jawline, as he trailed down to grip your waist.

he squeezed you just right, not too hard like he’d done in the past.

you wanted him to take control, to show that he could do whatever he wanted. the whimpers that escaped your lips, told him so.

the kiss never broke, as you both rose and stood under the pale moonlight. his hands traced down further, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. he cupped the underside of your thighs within a single catch of your breath, to which you exhaled and whined, so gingerly.

he took your subtle detachment as an opportunity to connect your tongues, the feeling of warmth completely searing your insides.

you were too dazed to match the way his tongue explored your mouth, but the messiness ignited infatuation for how unique he tasted.

still, it could never be too much, not even the way your conjoined saliva dripped onto your tear-stained shirt.

there was no limit for how willing you were to submit.

he swallowed the whimpers that fell from your mouth, trying his hardest not to tug on your lips too harshly.

his hands pressed upwards on the back of your thighs, signaling that he craved more.

he clutched onto your ass as you jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist.

you could feel the growth in his sweatpants increase the moment your breasts made contact with his clothed chest, nipples almost meeting together in the same distance across.

you were both harmonious in your attempts to get back inside the house; just the simple action of raking your fingers through his raven locks, encouraged him to move quickly.

he managed to walk through the yard with ease, taking only a brief moment to peek behind you to ensure he didn’t trip over the entrance from the patio.

during his journey to the bedroom, you buried your face into his neck, peckering on the veins that branched out into beautiful streams of blue.

your tongue found his racing pulse just as he kneed the door open to the room.

he laid you down on the edge of the bed, choosing to return the favor and kiss along your neck.

your hands couldn’t decide on a spot to grab, so you kept them tangled in his hair.

you had to be as convincing as possible that you craved this too, but it didn’t seem that hard to do when he caressed you in all the right places.

“i’ve waited so long for this, for you…”

his voice had gone even deeper, vibrating against your collarbone as he kissed there.

he continued further, meeting your chest that so desperately needed to be exposed. his teeth tugged on your hardened nipples through your cotton shirt, earning yet another whimper that bounced off the painted walls of the bedroom.

he was dependent on your noises of pleasure, desperate to hear every sound that told him he was doing well.

just as you blinked, he lifted your shirt, with not enough patience to take it the rest of the way off. his mouth latched onto your sensitive nipple, soothing the sting with his tongue every time he nipped it between his teeth.

he gave the same amount of attention to the other, swirling his wet muscle along every inch of your breasts. deep down, you wanted him to inch further towards where he deserved to be.

but you felt so sinful for thinking so.

he continued his descent, kissing along the flesh of your tummy and down to your pelvis. his eyes remained closed while doing so, as if he was already familiar with every feature of your lower body. you hadn’t even realized that he tugged your pajama pants off, discarding them somewhere on the floor.

you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on him, though you knew he had a look of pure bliss; excited to finally take what was his.

you jumped at the feeling of his nose resting on your clit, even rubbing it back and forth, painfully slow. he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent that was bound to get stronger once he took off your panties.

your entire body jolted from his tongue tapping your sensitive nub, causing all of your blood to rush to that spot. he poked at a faster pace, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the ache in your core, nor nullify the guilt you felt from actually enjoying it.

he was teasing, obviously wanting to savor every moment that had no guarantee of happening again.

“all mine…” he purposefully whispered close to your clothed heat, the spurts of air hitting your dampened panties with every unhinged word he spoke.

you wiggled your bottom half, coaxing him into giving the attention you so desperately needed.

he was receptive to your attempts, immediately hooking his hands under the seam of your panties and pulling them off in one fell swoop. you kept your arms close to your upper body as a way to console yourself for how far you let this go.

he pried your legs open wide, pushing them back so they were bent at the knee. his hands rested on top, pausing to inhale your scent once more.

you kept the view below hidden with your arms, as the sight would be too much to take in. the mere feeling of him licking a single strip with his flattened tongue, from your puckered hole all the way up to your engorged clit forced a complete sigh of relief out of your body.

you covered your mouth with your hands as a result, conflicted on whether or not you should hold it in anymore.

judging by the pause, jeno wasn’t pleased with your concealment.

“don’t fucking cover your mouth.”

he spoke right into your pussy, eyes trained on your next move. you obeyed him that easily, placing your arms down at your sides to grip the sheets.

as soon as you looked down, you were met with a sight that would ultimately defy all virtue left in your sickened world.

jeno’s eyes were locked onto you, lapping at your slick with such determination to make you cum from his mouth alone.

his hands had moved from your legs to your thighs, making sure to keep you static through it all.

he did everything right—sucking on your clit, dragging it lightly between his teeth, covering every inch of your folds with his spit.

each time he propelled his saliva onto your wet cunt, you couldn’t help but try to close your thighs around his head; all purity soiled by the way he defiled your pussy.

you knew it would only get filthier from here.

he snaked his left hand down, the pads of his thumb coming to rest on your pulsating bundle of nerves. his other hand formed a union between his fore and middle finger, making a way to your entrance.

it was evident through your prolonged captivity that jeno would feel resistance as he eased his two fingers inside. he wasn’t as slow as you hoped, but if it was for the sake of prepping, you would take what warnings he gave you.

all three of his methods worked in reducing the pressure in your pelvic floor, but you still felt as though you could never truly be ready for his cock, mentally or physically.

“you can barely take my fingers, fuck…”

he took the chance to curve his fingers inside you, creating friction as he scraped against your spot effortlessly.

your entire world was spinning, and it was just the beginning.

he was steady as he fucked you with his fingers, never once loosing sight of how ruined you were.

the squelching from your walls suffocating his digits caused his sweatpants to feel uncomfortably tight.

he couldn’t wait to stretch you full.

the denial you onced claimed, began to wash away as you felt your orgasm approaching.

his pace increased, creating a rhythm that was bound to make you crash.

“i-i cant! please!”

jeno ignored your cries, utterly content with forcing it out of you whether or not you wanted him to stop.

you grabbed a fistful of his hair again, resting your fingers in his scalp as your whole body convulsed.

constellations flooded your vision, blinding you from the reality of your guilt. you couldn’t help but grind into his face, prolonging the peak of your climax.

all but his mouth left your pussy, his hands ushering your lower body even closer.

he managed to stay latched onto your beating clit, as your body continued to spasm. he truly didn’t want to leave that spot, as he found himself completely drunk off of what you gifted him.

the amount of your juices that painted his mouth and chin, was proof.

you barely had enough core strength to lessen the impact of your legs falling against the bed as jeno rose to his feet.

he undressed himself within seconds, tossing the items of clothing inside the open closet.

all you could do was lay there and be a tool, trying your hardest not to react to the size of his cock.

there truly wasn’t anywhere he could fit, not even in your mouth if he wanted you there.

you managed to survive this far, but you were already second-guessing your chances the moment he positioned his naked body in front of you.

there was complete truth in how perfect he was—toned muscles, smooth complexion, and veins that branched out in every direction, most notably in his arms and hands.

he was the epitome of virility.

you were merely just a vessel for him to use and destroy.

“take off your shirt.”

he stroked his length, watching you fumble with the piece of clothing bunched around your neck.

as soon as you discarded it, he lifted both of your legs up, letting his shaft plop onto your wet mound. the sound was filthy, an indication of how wet you were.

he started to glide his length up and down your pussy, practically wet humping your slick as if you weren’t overstimulated from his oral assault only minutes prior. you involuntarily jerked at the contact of his tip rubbing your abused clit, watching as he dragged his bottom lip between his teeth at your undoing.

he finally let his grinding come to a halt; tip stopping right at your navel.

precum leaked inside the natural divet in your skin, forming a pool from his arousal.

“pl-please jeno…i need you.”

you no longer cared if it hurt, all that mattered was being at his complete disposal.

he listened to your desires, finally conjoining your bodies as one. the stretch was uncomfortable, burning even. but the satisfaction that followed, negated every ounce of hatred you used to feel.

you attempted to breathe through the discomfort, but all you could produce was a gasp as he eased his way further. even through the pain, you could see in his face that you were his entire world.

his mouth hung open, eyes rolling back for a second before gaining focus on your effort to accomodate his size. a line of saliva fell from his lips onto his shaft, making more of a mess than was thought possible.

you were severely uncoordinated from the intensity of your previous orgasm, but that didn’t stop you from pulling him in for a kiss as he bottomed out. you moaned into his mouth, slurping on his tongue to taste what remained of your essence.

he furrowed his brow when you clenched down as hard as his girth would allow, sucking him further inside your cervix.

he finally took it upon himself to move, feeling resistance as he geared up to piston inside you. his hands made their way from your thighs to your neck, gripping hard enough to make a vein visibly pulse against your temple. you placed your hands on top of his, hoping he wouldn’t take that as a sign to soften his hold on your throat.

this was everything you wanted. the exhilaration of being on the brink of death, a stark contrast to how he’s made you feel before. tingling littered under where his palms squeezed, causing you to writhe in pleasure as he drilled into your pussy.

no matter how hard he squeezed, you trusted that he wouldn’t end you. not when he was completely buried in your walls, growling in your ear at how well you took his cock.

“you’re so perfect, taking my dick so well…” his words sounded muddled from the ringing present in your ears, you weren’t even sure you comprehended them correctly through the high building up inside you a second time.

you managed to let a moan escape through the restriction as he pushed both of your bodies higher on the bed, having enough skill to remain inside you the entire time.

jeno noticed your eyelids begin to flutter, a sign that you were teetering on the edge. he relished in the sight—your body slumped against him, your vocal chords attempting to produce noise but ultimately failing.

you were officially cock drunk, inebriated by how well he fucked you dumb.

even through the haze, you could see him enjoying every second, tugging on his lips to suppress the animalistic sounds brewing deep within his chest.

he finally took his hands away, allowing your senses to restore from the lack of oxygen. your chest heaved profusely, causing your back to arch as if you were being exorcized.

his stamina was still just as unwavering, never once losing rhythm. just as you gained control of your breathing, he pushed your legs back towards your head, simultaneously being in awe of your flexibility.

the sound of skin slapping hit against your eardrums with each strike, and now that there was a surge of pressure being applied to your throat from this new position, you could barely vocalize how flawless he was at hitting your spot every, single, time.

you could feel his length twitching, veins swelling, and balls slapping against your ass with every thrust.

your stomach tightened from the pressure against your womb, forming a wave that you were bound to drown in.

“i know you’re close…cum on my cock…fuck.” he gulped in between, trying his hardest to hide the shakiness in his voice. he was just as close as you were, ready to explode at any moment.

all it took was for him to pause and grind into you slowly.

and with it, came a cathartic release.

a string of moans finally escaped through your restriction, forming a melody for jeno to absorb in his frenzied brain.

unhinged groans fell from his lips as he emptied his seed; silken fluid overflowing and mixing with your own.

you clenched around his dick even harder than before, milking him for everything he was worth.

he stilled inside you for a while, practically putting all of his body weight on you while you remained in that position.

the back of your thighs were sure to have bruises from how long he had kept his hands there. but you wouldn’t trade those marks for the world.

you shuddered as he exited you without warning, shifting to lay by your side. even through the silence, your thoughts were loud.

he came inside you, and it was obvious that the aftermath of the situation plagued his mind too.

—

you pretended to be asleep. though jeno was a different story, which all worked in your favor. as the morning progressed, he pulled your backside into his chest, one arm resting on your waist and the other under your neck. it was a surprise to you, considering he never touched you in his sleep.

the main complication you faced now was slipping out of his arms without waking him.

you were still backed up against his front when you lifted your head to view the time.

the nightstand clock read 7:32am.

if you didn’t act soon, you would be put underground, allowing someone else to take your place and experience the same horrors as you.

you wiggled yourself to test his stimuli, no response. so you did it again, nothing.

you carefully lifted his arm that was on your waist and began to scoot towards the side of the bed. he stirred once, but not enough to fully rouse him.

the time read 7:37pm when you finally stood to your feet.

you could’ve made your way to the kitchen, but cleaning up was definitely a priority.

you treaded lightly towards the bathroom, not even bothering to bring clothes. as you stepped inside, you were met with abhorration.

the person you saw in the mirror was barely recognizable, ravaged beyond repair. and no matter how hard you scrubbed your body, it still couldn’t wash away the bruises or the remnants of jeno that had been sitting inside you for the past two hours.

hopefully by the time you got back to him, you would finally be purged of his undying affliction.

the simple action of grabbing a knife from the kitchen wasn’t so simple in your regards.

your anxiety started to rise as you entered the kitchen. there, laying on the counter, in a stainless steel holder, were your means of redemption.

it didn’t matter what kind, just as long as it cut deep enough…

the one you grabbed happened to be a paring knife; ideal for your method of use.

your hands were sweaty, making it difficult to grip thoroughly. but you managed with two hands, all the way back towards the bedroom. before jeno could potentially see you through the doorway, you switched your hands, positioning the knife behind your back.

he was still sleeping, peacefully.

the clock read 7:59am. any minute now.

you walked around to where his back was facing you; his slow and steady breathing being a complete imbalance to your racing heart.

you maintained a good grip of the knife as you slipped under the disheveled sheets, attempting to straddle him and in turn wake him up for his departure.

at first, he grimaced, wondering why his sleep was being disturbed. but once his eyes fluttered open, he smiled, blissfully unaware of your deception.

he turned onto his back so you could straddle him properly, his body heat greeting you like the sun.

he lifted his hands and started to caress your thighs, creating goosebumps along your tender skin. he seemed to be focused on the bruising, expression filled with pride at how hard he claimed you.

you fought with every fiber of your being to hold back tears as you lowered yourself onto his chest.

you met his soft lips for the last time. sealing his fate with a kiss.

you exposed the knife in your right hand before sinking it into his side, the impedance of his tough flesh trying to stop you from sinking the blade in deep.

you kept your eyes closed through it all, but you could feel his mouth open in shock.

your tears finally broke, and just as you felt them separate from your chin, you opened your eyes.

and stabbed again.

and again.

you flinched each time, waiting for a piercing cry, but there was nothing. his mouth hung open in agony, trying to produce a scream, but there was nothing.

his skin had turned pale, eyes dilated and whirling out of control. soon came the blood, painting your hands, the sheets, and his tepid skin.

you buried your face into his neck, hoping to hear his pulse slowly drift away.

instead you were met with his last words,

“you made it…”

—

check to see what readers are saying here!

//tagging:

@pradajaehyun @glitchfiles @nikimeows @seungsthetic

#jeno smut #lee jeno x reader #jeno x reader #jeno x you #jeno au #nct dream fanfiction #feedback is appreciated <3 #i suck at endings BYE

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therealcocoshady · 24 days

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Arguing with Marshall Mathers - Headcanon

Here is how I imagine he is during an argument 🙊. Please tell me what you think, what you’d add… I’m curious 👀

What he argues about

- Let me preface this by saying that this man almost enjoys arguing and fighting when he is in a relationship. He said it himself : he is a little more happy when he is angry.

- He actually bitches a lot. And sometimes, it turns into an argument.

- He is also extremely emotional. He might not always look like it but he actually has a deep emotional range and some things hit him hard.

- Basically, he feels a lot, and sometimes, it overflows.

- He is also really passionate about certain topics and issues.

- Marshall might be the wet dream of many, he is not that easy to put up with.

- Sometimes, silly things can become arguments. That’s one of his many talents : making things more dramatic.

- Deep down, he is not the most confident human being and he has a hard time dealing with criticism.

- His first instinct is to get defensive, before getting offensive.

- Arguing with him is not all bad though. Because that’s one of the ways he shows he cares. He will not waste time arguing if he doesn’t care about the person in front of him or the subject matter.

- So if the two of you argue about your relationship (within healthy boundaries of course) it’s actually a good sign.

- If he didn’t want things to work out, he wouldn’t spent time arguing with you.

- He is, admittedly, not the best when it comes to dating and relationships so that might fuel an argument or two.

- He is a workaholic so a couple of fights about his schedule and priorities wouldn’t be surprising if it interferes with your relationship (bailing on you, last minute changes of plans, him being not focused on you enough…)

How he is when he argues

- Marshall is definitely petty and loves to have the last word.

- We all know he has a way with words and he knows exactly what buttons to push to make you mad.

- If he is extremely angry, he might be hurtful, too. Only with his words, though.

- He will never hit you or get physical during an argument. Roughhousing is only ok in the bedroom.

- He has been abusive in the past but that’s not who he is anymore.

- Sometimes, though, you wish he would just hit you in the face because it would hurt less than some of the words he uses.

- Usually, though, he doesn’t actually want to hurt you and regrets his harsh words.

- He is good at using hurtful words but he rarely, if ever, insults you.

- He doesn’t mind if you insult him though. Call him an asshole all you want. If anything, it proves he managed to get on your nerves and he likes it.

- During arguments, he actually wants to feel seen and heard. He wants to know he impacts you.

- One way to get back at him (that he absolutely hates) is giving him the silent treatment. It makes him mad.

- He’d rather have you yell at him than ignore him.

- Basically, in his mind, arguing is caring.

- He also secretly likes it when you get just as petty as him.

- You swear he sees pettiness as a sport.

- Some petty ideas to get to him include

- Having a designated “Fuck You Marshall” playlist you blast around the house when you’re mad at him.

- Said playlist would include music by artists he has a feud with, diss tracks aimed at him… 👀. And some music he hates, too.

- Another way to really piss him off would be to talk ill of the Lions 🦁

- « I hate you and the Lions suck. I’m glad the 49ers won that game ! »

- Anything light and petty is fair game.

- To be honest, he would probably find it hilarious and laugh about it afterwards.

- However there are some things you better not bring up during an argument because that will escalate very, very quickly.

- His family. You better leave his kids and his brother alone.

- If you have kids together, do not weaponize them against him. Don’t be toxic like that. Because he will not let you live it down.

- His past mistakes (abusive relationship, drug use…)

- He gets frustrated when he doesn’t manage to get his point across.

- During an argument, he is brutally honest with his feelings. No sugarcoating it.

- I can absolutely imagine him saying he loves you for the first time during an argument. He doesn’t mean to say it now but lets it slip.

- Safe to say that it puts an immediate end to the whole thing.

- (Now I want to write a one shot about this 🙈)

- He will absolutely annoy you on purpose.

- He is in his fifties but his inner annoying teenager comes out during an argument : rolling his eyes, sighing…

- There’s occasional yelling but not that much.

- If the argument is one-sided and you’re mad at him, he will absolutely try to make you laugh.

After an argument

- He doesn’t apologize easily. However, he knows when he is wrong.

- Oftentimes, he is better at showing you that he is sorry, rather than actually tell you.

- He will absolutely make it up to you with tons of attention and physical gestures.

- He might try to suck up to you with small gestures like a bouquet of flowers

- He is definitely into make up sex.

- Maybe that’s one of the reasons why he loves to argue so much.

- Overall, physical affection is a must in your relationship, especially after an argument. He needs it to feel that everything is ok between the two of you.

- Your arguments/fights might fuel his creativity. That’s the most efficient way for him to process things.

- However, you can and should expect him to take some creative liberties. He is going to make things seem bigger and more dramatic.

- Out of the two of you, he is probably the biggest drama queen 👀

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #eminem headcanon

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cutesyscreenname · 1 year

Text

A Cowboy Like Me : Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Series summary:

I've had some tricks up my sleeve

Takes one to know one

You're a cowboy like me

Javier Peña is a playboy, sleeping his way across Bogotá, never settling down. And he's used to being the only one. What happens when he meets his match? A friendly challenge between friends couldn't hurt, could it? Unless that friend is you...

Chapter Summary:

Javi is your friend, your coworker, your neighbor and a royal pain in your ass. He always thinks he has the upper hand but he doesn't know you have a little secret.

Pairing: Javi Peña x f reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: language, allusions to sex, drinking alcohol/being drunk, not much really

Notes: This is my first fic, I actually started another one but this Javi idea snuck into my head and we'll here we are. I just kept thinking, what if Javi was down bad for a fem reader who is as much of a slut as he is? A little turning of the tables? And what happens when they finally collide 👀 I don't have a concrete plan for how things end up where they're going so bear with me. I hope you enjoy it!

Playlist:

Rain assaulted the panes of your bedroom window seemingly from nowhere, a blitz attack to break through the standoff between humidity and air pressure. If it wasn’t so frenzied it would feel like a release.

You couldn’t take your usual leisurely stroll to the office this morning, considering the current weather. You silently thank the DEA’s preference for efficiency and budgeting as your corner apartment was sandwiched between those of your fellow agents, Murphy across the hall and Peña to your right.

Your appreciative mood sours when you get no answer from Steve Murphy’s door, realizing he likely had left already to afford his wife the same respite you were seeking from the rain and drive her to work at the clinic. You knew Peña would still be home, the catch was you didn’t know if his (very noisy) overnight guest would still be lingering this morning. Maybe it was just the expected awkwardness of meeting a coworker’s hook up or perhaps it was having to stifle the urge to look at them with pity when they practically purred to him “call me, Javi baby” as they carried their heels down the apartment staircase; either way you didn’t exactly enjoy meeting his conquests.

Preparing for whatever scene lurked behind his door that it was still too early in the morning to witness, you rapped three times on the wood beneath the peep hole. The tension in your shoulders subsided when, as soon as your hand pulled away, there he was in the threshold fully dressed and seeming to be on his way as well.

“Buenas, chiquita. Looking for a ride?” his small smirk and the spark in his eye letting you know he was expecting you.

“I don’t know, Peña, did you tire yourself out giving someone else a ride last night? Your friend sounded so grateful."

"Oh I’ve got plenty of energy, muñeca. You looking for a different kind of ride?” He stepped what would appear, to the layman, uncomfortably close to you but you don’t waver. It’s all a part of the game.

“En tus sueños, Javi,” you almost whisper before turning on your heel and bolting down the stairs as you yell behind you. “Last one to the car buys coffee!”

“Mocosa…” he mutters to himself, following behind you. He slides two fingers into the pocket of his button down shirt to find nothing there. You lifted his smokes before bolting to the car.

He sighs and shakes his head when he slides into the driver seat of his car that you’ve already let yourself into, both of you drenched just from the sprint to the vehicle. You think you catch his eyes gliding over your soaked blouse but quickly decide it’s more likely a glare of annoyance at your early morning antics. Javier didn't see you that way.

“You sure about that energy, Peña? Better hit the coffee shop post haste.” You tip the pack of smokes toward him in an offer, as though it’s yours, a lit cigarette already dangling lazily from your lips, a small smile tugging at one corner of your mouth.

Javi plucks the whole pack from your fingers and lets out a low chuckle, lighting one for himself before slipping them back into his shirt pocket.

“Fine, pendeja. The first round tonight is on you, though.”

And this is the way it was between you, a never ending game of wit and sarcasm, playing chicken and skirting the edges of propriety. Always in jest, always reigned in long before invisible lines were crossed, made easier by Steve playing mother hen to the two of you.

Always just a stupid game.

Sliding into the curved booth that evening at your favorite watering hole, you finally took what felt l like the first full breath of the day since stepping into the agency this morning. The moment your toe touched the speckled tile you and Javier’s easy expressions turned to grimaces at the mountains of paper work on each of your desks.

“Settle in, kids,” Steve grumbled from behind his own paper piles, “we’re gonna be here a while. I made coffee.” Endless stacks of red tape redundancies and dead end phone tips had your neck sore, eyes strained, and a dull ache settling between your temples.

You take a deep, cleansing breath as the time worn cushion gives way to your form and the dim lighting offers reprieve to your tired eyes. This is just what you needed after today.

“First round on you, kid, don’t forget.” Javi chides as he observes you sinking into the booth, Steve taking a seat next to you.

“Tell you what, Peña. I’m not moving for at least 20 minutes so why don’t you be a lamb and go grab those for us?” you say. It’s a statement, not a request and he rolls his eyes as you slide a few crumpled bills to him at the end of the table. “Quick like a bunny, sweetheart, or I won’t tip ya.”

Steve does nothing to hold back his laughter at his partner’s expense and Javi sends the both of you a death glare before snatching the cash and walking away to the bar.

“You sure know how to ruffle his feathers, man.” Murphy shakes his head lightly and chuckles, lighting a cigarette.

“Ah it’s too easy, he’s such a delicate flower.” Your eyes drift shut as you take another deep breath, enjoying the soft upholstery beneath you and inhaling the pleasant mix of liquor, leather, and smoke that permeates the small bar.

“Maybe more than you know.” Steve mutters quietly. You couldn't even be sure you were meant to hear it until you crack an eye open and see him looking at you with an expression that’s almost…solemn.

You open your mouth to ask what the hell he means by that but the words die on your tongue as Javi reappears, three whiskeys in hand and confusion painted across his strong features.

“Damn, Murphy, I leave for two minutes and she hurt your feelings already?” he throws a conspiratorial wink at you and slides into the booth on your other side.

The blonde agent’s face softens and he recovers from the moment so quickly you think you must have imagined it.

“Ah you know I’m sensitive, Javi. And this one’s just so damn feisty.”

“Yeah she is.” Javi pinches your cheek and you swat him away.

“Hey man I was napping!”

“Ah, ah, ah, cariño, I need my wing man awake.”

“Oh so I’m just dead weight?” Steve gasps, feigning offense.

“Second string, Murphy. I’m the MVP.” You jest, taking a generous sip of the amber liquid in your glass.

“Well now you’ve both hurt my feelings.” He pouts while you and Javi snicker.

The truth was, Javi didn’t need a wing man. Women seemed to clamor for a chance to fall into his bed; a never ending parade of Bogotá’s finest ladies rotating in and out of his apartment, keeping you awake with their…appreciation. It annoyed you endlessly, your precious sleep stolen as you lie awake thinking there’s no way he’s THAT good.

This is why you never brought your own conquests home. Why deal with the intrusion of your space, the prying eyes of your nosy partners, and the inevitable task of shooing them off? No reason to when you could simply whisper ‘lets go back to yours’ and get a night away from Javi’s theatrics before sneaking off to work early and slipping into the fresh shirt from your desk before Thing 1 and Thing 2 arrive to the office.

While Javi’s reputation was public knowledge, your escapades remained confidential and you preferred it that way. It kept things easy between you and the two men that had become your closest friends, maintained the dynamic that worked so damn well. Not to mention, you didn’t need it to be broadcast around an agency of frustrated men that you were no stranger to a one night stand.

You don’t consider yourself a centerfold by any means, but you know you must have a certain allure from the way that you never had to go home alone if you so chose. No need to give cause for the DEA bachelor’s club to start making pit stops at your desk to ask the time and look for files that don't exist.

You liked your little secret night life anyway, always one to keep your cards close to your chest, but after a couple more whiskeys (and a shot of tequila somewhere in between) your lips become looser.

“You know the more you two drink the more you start soundin’ like me.” Steve teases from his spot in the booth. As the alcohol warmed your cheeks and loosened your vocal chords, you and Javi both let your Texas drawls slide thickly over your words like honey from a road side stand.

“Hey now-“ Javi starts, but you cut him off.

A little more sauced than your cohort, and somehow even spunkier than you usually are, you point your finger at Steve with purpose. “Look it here, pal, we don’t sound nothin’ alike. Texas is a whooole different ball game. Did Tennessee used to be it's own country? Hmm? I didn’t think so.” You said with determination and a slight slur, ending an argument you were having with no one.

“I reckon she’s right.” The brunette man slung his arm around your shoulders in solidarity. Steve raised his eyebrows and smirked at the spectacle of drunken Texas pride before him, entertained by his friends that were much more inebriated than he was.

“Should we tell him?” Javi whispers to you loud enough for anyone to hear.

“Well bless his little heart, he don’t know?” You don’t know either, but you can see that it’s a part of the bit so you’re going to play along anyway.

Javi takes a dramatic breath before looking at the other man solemnly, “I didn’t wanna offend you, bud, but…”

He steals a glance at you and throws another wink your way, “turns out everything’s bigger in Texas.” Javi waggles his brows suggestively and you dissolve into a fit of giggles together.

“That’s what they say, isn’t it?” Steve leans back in his seat and sips the beer he’d switched to earlier in the night.

“Oh it’s what they ALL say, I hear ‘em every time I try to sleep at my place.” Both of the men next to you shoot you a surprised look, wondering what would come out of your mouth next.

“That can’t be true, I don’t have a guest every night,” Javier offers, “gotta sleep occasionally.” He's quipping back, playing the game as usual, but you’re just getting started.

“Well, seems like. I guess your nights off are just the ones when I’m not home, Casanova.” You tease, casually taking another pull of your drink that was mostly melted ice now.

“Not home?” Steve looks at you with his head cocked. “What’re you doin', playing secret agent without us? Girl’s out to catch Escobar all on her lonesome.”

“Nah, nah, naaaah. I’m doin’- like Javi does,” you stumble over your words, “entertaining my companions. He’s a cowboy. Like me.”

You miss the way that Javi’s jaw nearly hits the floor, unable to control his expression with the liquor coursing in his veins. Steve doesn’t, though.

“Well I’ll be damned, chica, who woulda thought it.” Steve laughs, still keeping a steady eye on his partner’s reactions.

Javier didn't expect you to be celibate, and maybe it was bit archaic to assume, but he never imagined you to get around like he did. And he really didn’t want to. Pushing the imagery from his mind, Javi set aside his shock and the little antagonistic twinkle forming in his eye has Steve standing up to try and wrangle you both home before something stupid falls out of his friend’s mouth. But it’s too late.

Neither of you are moving to follow him and before Steve can start his rounds of ‘its getting late’ and ‘let’s call it a night’ Javi pipes up.

“I don’t fuckin believe you, cariño.” He takes a thoughtful drag from the cigarette between his plush lips before tapping it on the edge of the ashtray. After a brief but pregnant pause he continues. “In fact I think you’re home every night. Ear pressed to my fuckin wall, apparently.”

Anger bubbles up hot and sudden in your chest. He was still playing, still jesting. So why did red suddenly paint your complexion and creep over your field of vision? This cocky bastard. Pendejo. You’ll be damned if Javi gets the last word here, especially if that last word insinuates that you sit like a sad puppy next to your shared wall eavesdropping on his sex life.

You lean in close to the man, catching the musk of cologne and sweat radiating from his warm body. His shirt is unbuttoned into a deep v, skin glistening from the humidity and the alcohol. Javi watches as your pupils expand just so, the slightest shade of blush blooming across your cheeks.

Doubling down, you poke his exposed chest with two fingers. He shivers and you think it must be your hands, cold from wrapping around your low ball glass.

“I’ll prove it to you.” You reach up to pat his cheek before leaning back into the booth with resolve. “After this next drink.”

When you stand to cross the room and falter it’s Javi’s strong hands that fly to your waist to steady you. A burning sensation flutters beneath your skin where he holds you in place. It feels like a leather car seat on a summer's day back home. The sear of the supple material, jarring at first on the skin that peeks out from cut off shorts, soon absorbs and melts into you, sweet like sunshine, until you have to peel yourself away at your destination. Like you have to peel away now from his grip.

Seeing his opportunity Steve takes your hand and begins ushering the two of you out towards his car. Javi, seeing that his ride is leaving, gives in as well.

“Come on, sweetheart. We can have another drink when we get home. Tell Connie all about your secret love life, how’s that sound?” your friend coos to you in an effort to put you in the car willingly.

“Steve - I fucking love your wife.” You manage as you all but fall into the back seat behind where Javi already sits in the passenger.

“Same here, kid. ‘swhy I married her.”

Before Murphy can even choose a radio station a faint snore floats up from the backseat, your eyes glued shut as sleep takes you. The men stay silent on the drive home.

Let me know if you wanna be tagged for this series, I'm starting a list ☺️☺️

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accio-victuuri · 6 months

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ONE NIGHT IN BEIJING & other sweets 🌃

when i first saw this song being discussed earlier, i was confused cause i don’t know what’s happening. lol. what’s with the song. i cannot trace where the screenshot is from but it says one of WYB’s favorite song is this, one night in beijing.

then a fan commented that XZ sang this in our song before ( not main performance ) and someone found a recording. did he discover the song because of that? was it on zz’s playlist at some point in the past and became his fave?

the song itself tho. very 👀👀👀

Don’t wish to ask where you have been

Don’t wish to wonder if you are ever returning

I’m thinking of your heart, I’m thinking of your face

I’m thinking of your embrace – I won’t let go, I just won’t

that’s just the first few lines and i’m here nodding my head that this fits his style of bittersweet song.

but this not even the interesting part….

Fans are thinking about how this relates to what’s been happening in the past few ways. The way we have speculated about 11/19 and WYB acting as the mystery driver again. Then him sharing a post on his weibo. One night in Beijing? Does he love that particular title cause it sometimes describes their meetings? They are often busy and one night is all they can get.

People are also pointing out the change in ZZ’s work schedule today. His LOCH sched starts early and ends in the evening or very late but the 5:30-6:00 AM call time for him is almost fixed. Yesterday, 11/22, WYB posts and we think they are together. What happens today? ZZ comes in “late” to work at 11:30 AM. So why the change? Was he spending time with Bobo? This reminds me of that time he was out of his schedule too when Bobo was sick.

A common argument from haters is how is a relationship between them possible. They are busy! Well.. this is how. since 2020, they have been meeting (allegedly) and even going to each other’s workplace ( allegedly lol repeating this to be safe ) It doesn’t matter how long, they make it work. You will always find time for the important people in your life.

Next, let’s move on to XZS post. On a Thursday. Also it perfectly coincides with their WB account reaching 10 million followers. The photos shared are behind the scenes content from ad shoots but the contrast of the photos stands out. Day & Night. The kadian they use, 14:23 loving zhan forever. Which goes to show that they do use it!

The caption gives us more insight on the choice of photos. Sun & Moon. Another symbolism that is popular with CPFs Sun/Sunshine & Moon.

“It is the perfect moment, just like when the gentle light meets the rising moon.”

I think the english translation doesn’t give that much deeper meaning that we clowns love. so we gotta take it to the next level 🙃🙃🙃

"Fuguang" and "Wangshu" are both important elements in Chinese culture. "Fuguang" comes from the works of Song poets in the Southern Dynasties, which means sunlight or sunlight."Wangshu" is a god in Chinese mythology and legend, representing the moon and can be used to describe moonlight'. The two can be combined to show that lovers support each other and move towards a bright future together.

This caption aligns to WYB posting a photo yesterday that shows the 🌙. So does this mean WYB is the Moon & ZZ is the Sun/light? I have to say that it fits with their personality ( tho Bobo is warm and ZZ has his moments of being cold too but you know what I mean, for symbolic purposes only ok. ) I am loving this imagery between them! I hope we can have more reference in the future.

I’m cackling at this tho. The progression of posts, WYB’s caption was a reminder that it’s getting colder > YBO reposts and says to wear warmer clothes > XZS posts and GG is wearing a cozy sweater 😂 As if saying that yep, he has worn warmer clothes. LOL.

and xzs and ybo are at it again, the photo ybo shared yesterday was showing wyb’s back and xzs shared something similar today as the last photo in the grid. i’m sure they have lots of photos that show his face or close ups of his body like his hand but they had to choose this as the finale.

i mean thank you, this will make it easier for us to edit them together 😂😂😂

Bonus, the “light” photos appear to form an 8 = bo. (p1) is a himalaya episode about the 8 of diamonds card forming an 8. What a coincidence!

-END.

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do #my god the past days are so sweeeeet so much candies!!!!!!

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chimcess · 2 months

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Waterlog || pjm (3) (teaser)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Teaser wc: 391 Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: toxic relationship (not reader and jimin), arguments, cheating (not reader and jimin), talks about previous child abuse, anxiety attack, strong language, crying, emotional abuse (not reader and jimin), mentions of depression and mental health, lots of angst in this one, finally making some progress though, age insecurity, mutual pining, lots of side character development in this one, they really are so sweet together, jimin just being the nicest boy in the world, so much PDA, physical touch is his love language 👀👀👀, more in the official posting...

Release date: April 6th, 2024 at 6pm EST

masterlist || playlist

Jimin and I said our goodbyes and I promised the blue haired boy I would call him in the morning to set up another meet up. He called it a group date, something neither Jimin nor I disagreed with, but it did make me feel queasy. Depending on how our conversation goes, we may never spend time together outside of training. I felt like I was going to vomit.

“Let me drive?” Jimin murmured as we parted ways with the couple.

I nodded, digging in my purse to find them. “Mind reader, I swear. Get out of my head, kid.”

He snickered, “Who says you weren’t in mine, granny”

The queasiness dissipated and I felt like I could breathe a little bit easier now. Being alone with Jimin had never felt this nerve wracking before, not even the first time we met, and it was hard to explain all of the thoughts and feelings going through my head. We were finally having the talk, but I had never imagined it going this way. Handing him the keys, I elbowed him in the ribs.

“Whoops,” I mocked. “You know me and my bad eyesight, kiddo.”

“Watch it,” He hissed, rubbing the spot. “Don’t want you breaking anything. You know you have frail bones.”

I laughed, “Don’t make me give you a knuckle sandwich, punk.”

Sliding into the passenger seat felt less daunting after the light hearted exchange. Still, my blood was pumping as Jimin clicked his seatbelt in place. I had no idea when the conversation would shift into murkier waters, but I needed to start thinking about what to say to him.

Denying my feelings would only make things worse, and I did not think the younger man would believe me. In fact, he would be offended that I thought he was dumb enough to get bamboozled in the first place. Lying did not seem like the right call anyway. My feelings were not something to feel ashamed about, but they were very frightening.

“When is later?”

I gasped, startled out of my thoughts. We had been driving for over ten minutes already. Time seemed to slip by when I was lost in my own head. Jimin apologized for scaring me but repeated the question once I reassured him that I was fine.

“Now,” I mumbled. “I guess later is now.”

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga @sumzysworld @chimmisbae

Let me know if you want to be added/deleted from the taglist. -Lex

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luaspersona · 1 year

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Snow Flower | kth (m)

pairing ↠ himbo!taehyung x reader (f. reader)

genre ↠ college!au; holiday!au; smut; humor; fluff; strangers to almost lovers to idiots to lovers; one-shot.

summary ↠ after making some terrible memories together, Taehyung wants nothing more than to never see you again; and he was pretty much succeeding — until he finds himself having to spend Christmas alone with you in the middle of nowhere.

rating ↠ +18

warnings ↠ taehyung is bi y’all; alcohol consumption; sexual tension; taehyung is a menace but he’s also stupid; some religious jokes are made; some kink shaming (tae is lowkey offended by furry kink?? idek); minor accident; very minor parent issues (this is really in the background, but i was going through stuff and writing it helped); a bunch of Christmas movies talk; taehyung is scared of grinch lol (i'm serious 💀); second hand embarrassment; pov switch; explicit smut (the warnings are long as fuck, so beware).

smut warnings 👀↠ mentions of anal; masturbation; orgasm denial; orgasm control; a whole lot of teasing; edging; dirty talk; pet names; soft dom!taehyung; switch!reader; fingering; light pussy slapping; nipple play; oral (f. and m. receiving); choking on cock; tae has a huge dick ‘cus it’s christmas and we deserve it; unprotected sex (pls don't do it. this is unhinged fiction); praise kink; marking; biting; light spanking; a splash of degradation (he calls reader a slut once); reader has sensitive thighs; tae has stamina for days; so much begging; a bit of overstimulation 'cus taehyung is a man on a mission; multiple orgasms; squirting; creampie; cum eating; it’s rough but it’s also super silly; they joke during sex, it's ridiculous; aftercare.

teaser ↠ (wc:0.8k) read it before to make sure this is for you ♡

word count ↠ 22k (7.5k are just smut y'all, i went off 🥴)

estimated reading time ↠ 60 minutes

note ↠ just wanna come out and say that i listened to mistletoe an unhealthy amount of times to get into the mood to write this and i think i’m damaged for life. also, i know it’s march lol, but i went through some shit™️ while writing this and it took some time to get back on track. to be honest, i almost gave up on this fic at least once a week, and it was hard as fuck to finish it. i struggled a lot with the plot until i was actually satisfied, but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out.

note² ↠ if this fic is finished, i have to thank @uarmymoonlight for lowkey bullying me into seeing this story through, always ready to motivate and help me brainstorm and fix plot points. you know i love you, and i hope you get a himbo to yourself one day. also wanna thank @vsualitae for being such a sweet listener, and for helping me through writer's block. you’re amazing, and i will cherish you forever, please don't give up on me because i'm terrible at replying.

note³ ↠ thank you again for @imakeamess for the amazing banner!

playlist ↠ this is what i think reader and tae’s playlist would look like

navigation | masterlist | permanent taglist | tell me your thoughts ♡

Jungkook suffering a car accident two days before Christmas was honestly so damn selfish of him.

It took five whole weeks of mature conversations (read: Jungkook calling Taehyung a pathetic little baby before resorting to messaging Taehyung’s mom) to convince Taehyung to go on this stupid Christmas trip to the middle of nowhere, only for Jungkook to think it’d be funny to drive his shit ass car straight against a light pole barely five minutes out of Soojin's dorm parking lot.

“You won’t be alone with her,” the asshole promised “Soojin and I will be there too”.

On top of that, Jungkook had the nerve to first go through a bunch of x-rays and cat scans before letting you and Taehyung — already settled in the shit chalet Soojin rented — know that him and Soojin would have to wait the 26th for the next bus to the hell hole that they mistook as a city, because no one in their right minds would willingly come here.

Well, of course Taehyung should’ve known that there was no way he could spend time in the same environment as you without wanting to kill himself: with or without Jungkook and Soojin, being reminded of your existence makes Taehyung feel nothing but nausea.

…

Ok, maybe he should rephrase that.

It’s not that he hates you, or anything. In fact, when Taehyung met you, hate was pretty much the opposite of what he was feeling. That night, in the frat’s living room, surrounded by dozens of other bodies as you danced to a song so loud he couldn’t even recognize, Taehyung swore you were the hottest, most sensual person he had ever seen.

It was one of the first times Taehyung went completely sober to a frat party, the only alcohol in his lips being the one he sucked straight out of your tongue. The choice of going teetotal had to do with the terrible lunch he made earlier that day that still rumbled in his stomach as he kissed down your chest (quick unrelated question: how much mayonnaise are you supposed to use in the pudding recipe to replace heavy whipping cream?).

Naturally, he couldn’t have thrown up before he went to the party — no, no, his stomach had to wait until you were straddling and grinding on him in one of the house’s empty bedrooms to push his excuse of a dessert out of his mouth.

Taehyung was pretty damn good at making up excuses to avoid people he slept with. But with you? He barely saw your tits and no fucking excuses were needed.

It took around two months for him to find his will to live again, and things started to go back to normal — until Jungkook started to date Soojin, that is. Don’t get him wrong, Taehyung loves Soojin and how she makes Jungkook happy and all that bullshit, he just hates the fact that she also happens to be your roommate.

[10:36] taehyung: jungkook how could u

[10:37] taehyung: i can’t believe u right now, istg

[10:37] taehyung: u could’ve come by bus with me, but nooooo

[10:37] taehyung: u absolutely HAD to suffer a fucking accident now, didn’t u??

[10:38] taehyung: i’ll never leave this room

[10:38] taehyung: if i don't die of shame before u are arrive, u are dead to me

[typing] taehyung: btw F for u and all, hope your leg’s fine, i lov

A loud thud startles Taehyung, making him drop his phone on the bed.

He waits a second to make sure his heart is still beating before slowly getting up and leaving his room. He steps around some bags placed on the floor near your chosen bedroom to reach the open front door.

Taehyung first notices your car parked near the house with the trunk open, before his eyes descend to your sprawled form on the icy ground, your head snapping up when he calls your name with a confused frown.

“Oh. Hi, Taehyung.”

“Wait, that sound was you slipping? Shit, you ok? Can you get up?”

“Yeah!” You assure, before he can cross the threshold. “Yes, don’t worry.”

You shift on the ground, but as soon as you place your hands behind you for leverage, your face turns into a grimace.

“Fuck”.

“What?”

You don’t answer, instead trying to find different ways to get up while avoiding moving your left arm, and failing adorably every time as the thickness of your clothes restrains your movements.

“Ok, maybe I can’t get up.” You slump back, sighing.

He closes his coat and changes from his slippers quickly, sidestepping the frozen paths to make his way to you.

When Taehyung crouches by your side he is taken by a sudden urge to swallow his fist. As if the whole situation wasn’t already perfect, you simply had to become even prettier than the last time he saw you. Are you some kinda wine or something? Why the hell you gotta be so gorgeous for?

“Should I…” he starts “uhm, sorry, can I touch you?” Has his voice always been this high?

You nod, and Taehyung automatically starts to rub his hands together.

“What you doing?”

“My hands are cold.”

“I’m… laying on ice.” Your face softens with amusement.

He pauses.

“Right.”

He grabs your upper arms and helps you to your feet, stepping away as soon as you’re standing.

“Thanks.”

You take your hand to your upper arm briefly, letting out a low hiss.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, think I hit my shoulder.”

“That sucks for you… damn.” He eloquently says.

You glance back at your car, slowly walking back to it. Taehyung assumes you’re going to close the trunk, but when you lean to secure a bag he calls for you once again.

“What you doing?”

“There’s more stuff to take.”

“What? You’ll hurt your shoulder.”

“Did that already.”

“Stop that, let me do it.”

“No, it’s—” you look at the luggage in front of you when he comes to your side “it’s kinda heavy.”

Taehyung chuckles through his shattered ego.

“I can manhandle just fine.” He cringes as soon as he says it.

“... Right.” You clear your throat. “I got Soojin’s stuff too, and I’m pretty sure Jungkook put some of his shit in before I closed it.”

Your roommate’s name rings some bells in Taehyung’s head, and he realizes that this is the longest you two have talked since he… well, y’all know it by now, no need to keep remembering.

“Just tell me where you want them.”

You reluctantly step away from the car, and Taehyung takes a deep breath: he can’t afford to further embarrass himself in front of you, and maybe it’ll be a good opportunity to make some new, healthier, memories with you.

There are only two things that could explain why Taehyung’s forehead vein is almost popping from carrying a few bags and boxes for less than ten minutes.

First: he should consider finding the fastest way out of here because you brought bodies for a Christmas trip.

But then, this isn't really fair because he sure never had problems handling some bodies before.

…

Shit, that came out terrible. Just to be clear: he means in sex.

Which brings him to the second possible explanation: Taehyung should probably start tagging along Jungkook to the gym, because holy fuck why are things foggy?

The worst, of course, is that you’re watching him, and there’s only so much panting someone can get away with without sounding on the verge of death, so Taehyung does his best to swallow his grunts as he crosses the living room to drop a bag near your bedroom door.

“Taehyung?” You ask, and wow. You look so pretty surrounded by little white spots. Who would’ve thought.

“Yeah.” He gasps.

“You ok?”

“Absolutely! Why you ask?” His laugh sounds more like asthmatic breathing than anything else.

He blinks a few times to try and see you with some definition, and he's like, 63% sure you just furrowed your brows.

“The last thing is Soojin’s gift to Jungkook, so you can leave it there and I’ll help you get it later.”

“What? I got everything else already, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, and thank you for it, but—”

“Really, no sweat. Where?”

You consider him for a second, sighing when you point to the spot between the window and the fireplace.

“Can you place it there?”

Taehyung nods before he returns outside, carefully making his way to the car and sitting on the open trunk as soon as you’re out of view.

He can't pass out. He looked it up before and changing names is way too expensive.

So, instead, he turns to the last thing you brought: a large box, enveloped in a wrapping paper so ugly he immediately knows Jungkook chose it. He adjusts himself to grab it, but almost sobs as he realizes it’s the heaviest yet.

He takes a deep breath and secures it in his hold, sprinting back inside, blessed enough not to fall (because the universe couldn’t possibly be that cruel). He rushes to the spot you indicated and sets the box down, unable to prevent the most ridiculous little whimper to leave his lips.

“... Taehyung.”

“Again, I’m fine, it was pretty light actually.” He says, but inhales so loud that he’s sure he sucked all the room's air.

“That was a drum set you just carried.”

“... what.”

“Soojin bought Jungkook a drum set. I think it weighs about 55kg.” You explain, biting back a smile.

“Well. As I said, no biggie.” Please don’t faint. Please don’t faint. Please don’t faint. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Oh. Kinda sore, but I'm fine.”

“Great.” He slowly gets up, swinging to his room. “I’ll go uh, unpack.”

If you say anything after that, Taehyung doesn't hear it, closing the door to his room and crashing onto the bed. He spreads his arms wide and lets out a long, tortuous breath.

He allows his body to relax for a second, dazedly looking up. He’s not sure if his vision is now compromised, if he’s about to pass out or if there’s mold in the room’s ceiling.

Hum.

The price of this place starts to make more sense by the second.

A notification draws his attention to his phone beside him.

[10:58] kookie: just try not to puke on her and you’ll be fine (;

Here’s something people don’t tell you about fuckboys: they are often really lonely and depressed.

…

Oh, no— not Taehyung, though, he’s just fine.

He enjoys the simplicity of getting his dick wet and the minimal brain power it takes to flirt.

Besides, people say love makes you stupid and Taehyung promised Jungkook he’d try to be less of that. So yeah, he likes to cuddle and maybe do some of that stupid corny shit sometimes, but as soon as the knot in his stomach starts to feel a hell lot like butterflies he’s dipping out.

The sound of your door closing across the hall snaps him out of his mind. Fucking finally!

Jumping out of his bed, Taehyung furtively exits his room, dragging his feet towards the kitchen. It takes around ten minutes of opening and digging into cabinets for him to remember Soojin was the one assigned with bringing the food.

He opens the fridge, hopeful that maybe the host left something before vacating the house, but he’s met with nothing but a half empty milk bottle (that looks a hell of a lot like yogurt when he shakes it, and even he knows that’s not a good sign) and an unopened beer can.

He rubs his chin, considering his options, but starving or walking on an empty stomach under negative temperatures feels like a whole new level of dumb and he sure doesn’t wanna die with dry ass lips. So, alternatively, after a quick second of quietly and tearlessly sobbing, Taehyung brings himself to knock on your bedroom door.

When you open it he— wait, were you going to sleep? The puffiness around your cheeks and the way you lazily look at him makes Taehyung think so. Also, there’s the fact you’re wearing a pajama set, cute little bears drawn all over your legs.

“Taehyung?” He snaps his eyes up.

“Uh, the nearest town is an hour away on foot.” He blurts, gulping at the way his name sounded laced in your raspy I’ve just woken up voice.

You frown.

“... right?”

He clears his throat; tries again.

“Soojin was supposed to bring the food, so there’s nothing for us to eat. I would grab something, but I think she booked a place near Earth’s butthole, ‘cus there’s nothing close.” You chuckle. Wait, you just… chuckled? Oh god, that must mean you think he's funny!, does that mean you think he's funny oh and your smile damn he feels like that's the first time he's seen your smile quick say something funnier oh wait, not— “But nothing like a good Christmas anal, right?”

Shit.

You open your mouth to say something, but he doesn’t wait for you to react before adding, “sorry. I don’t know why I said that, I mean,” he snickers nervously “only crazy people do anal.” You close your mouth immediately, and Taehyung fights the urge to cry — the fuck is he saying? “I mean, that’s not— I don’t, uhm— I do anal all the time!” He can't tell if he's laughing or crying at this point. “Oh my god, I—”

“Taehyung?” He promptly shuts up. “I think I got it.” Your tone is teasing, but he doesn’t dare meet your eyes as heat creeps up his neck.

“Sorry.”

“What were you saying before? About the food?”

“Right!” He lets out a relieved sigh, shaking his head to try and remember what he was saying before deeming it important for you to know he does anal. “We don’t have any food so… would you mind uhm, driving me to go grocery shopping?”

“It’s not like I have any choice, right?” You let out a little laugh and oh, my god, he hopes that was just a terrible attempt at a joke. “Let me just change real quick, then we can go.”

“Ok.”

He turns back to his room before you even have time to close your door.

It takes around two minutes of screaming into his pillow for the embarrassment to die down. When he starts to change into more presentable clothes, Taehyung tries to remember where the fuck he dropped his brains before this trip.

The shithole Soojin rented is around twenty minutes from town, and Taehyung spends each one of them in pure agony.

Despite the fact that you were very comfortable, idly checking out the landscapes as your fingers tapped against the steering wheel leather, Taehyung was sure that you were seconds away from jumping out of the car to free yourself from the torture of his company. He couldn't stop wondering if he was breathing too loud, but his attempts to hold his breath quickly backfired when you kept asking why he was turning purple beside you.

Overall? Safe to say this weekend will be great!

Trying to get out of his head, he spots a convenience store a couple streets into town.

When he sets foot out of the car, Taehyung is glad you parked right in front, because holy shit, is cold as fuck. He wraps the coat tighter around him, but his shivering only stops after he steps into the establishment’s heating.

The place has only three aisles, barely stocked. A few fluorescent lamps cast the room in faint, clinical lightning and Taehyung spots a little fake Christmas tree over the counter. If art is about eliciting a reaction, whoever was responsible for decorating the place is a hell of an artist, because Taehyung feels immediately depressed.

You, on the other hand, don't seem bothered. In fact, you quietly take in the environment, and Taehyung anxiety goes nuts, ‘cus if you are not talking, then he has no clue of what you’re thinking and what you’re thinking scares the shit outta him.

His eyes travel around the shelves in an attempt to find something he can comment on, quickly grabbing a mini reindeer ornament kit while you set your purse between your knees to remove your thicker clothing.

“Hey, check this. Don’t know why people buy shit like that, it's not like reindeers even exist.”

He turns to you after laughing in the most ridiculous, unnatural way, but his smile drops immediately when he catches you folding your coat in your hands as a large — and corny as fuck — reindeer head stares back at him from your sweater.

You know what? He’s gonna own his shit talking ability as a talent, because it takes effort to be this clueless.

You look at him, bottom lip jutting out slightly before your gaze drops to your sweater.

“Damn, I’m sorry. Actually, I think reindeers are really cute, and it’s not like Santa is real anyway either.”

You frown “Taehyung?”

“Huh?”

“Are you serious?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know reindeers are real, right?”

“No, they are not. What you saying?” His brows knit together in his forehead. Your lips curve up in a smile before you start chuckling. He lets out a relieved sigh. “I knew you were just messing with me. Almost got me there.”

You shake your head as you keep laughing, but… wait— holy shit, reindeers are fucking real?! But what about the whole flying thing?

…

Well, damn.

On second thought, Taehyung should definitely be more scared of opening his mouth than he is of silence.

Your laughter melts into a large smile, before you glance around.

“Should we eat first?” You suggest, pointing to some tables near the large picture windows at front.

“Sure.” He agrees, still kinda thrown off.

You go to the cashier, asking for a menu. “What should we get?”

“Anything quick.”

“Ok. You good with ramen?” He nods and you order two bowls.

It takes no longer than five minutes for the server to bring the steaming instant food to your table.

Here’s another thing Taehyung’s just realized: keeping your mouth shut is a hell of a lot easier when your whole vision of life has just been challenged. What else is real?!

“God, this looks awful.” Your voice cuts through his existential crisis, eyes trained on the street outside the window.

“Huh?”

“There’s almost no one around and barely any decoration. Doesn’t even look like Christmas.”

“I mean, if I lived here I’d want to get the hell out for the holidays too, so.” Good! That was civilized.

“Fair”, you grant.

You tilt the bowl back a bit to drink some of the broth, giggling to yourself when you set it on the table again. “Have you ever wondered what Whoville would look like if Grinch had actually stolen Christmas?”

“What?”

“Like the Jim Carrey movie?” He nods, and you go on. “He wanted to ruin the town's Christmas spirit and shit. I think this town is what would happen if he succeeded.”

“I hate that movie.”

“Why?” You frown, but you still have a soft smile on your lips and Taehyung feels encouraged.

“A big green furry guy that uses onions as deodorant and commits arson? How the fuck is that a kid’s movie? I’m pretty sure anyone who likes Grinch is into furry or something” he snickers, “don’t know how that kinky shit can get people into their Christmas spirit.”

“You being hella judgy for someone who just found out reindeers are a thing.” You scoff.

Taehyung's smile drops.

“You… like Grinch?”

“It’s a classic, of course I like it!”

Taehyung groans, but the way your teeth nibble at your lip to hold back a smile makes him hesitate.

“Are you offended?”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” You’re so blatantly amused that even Taehyung could’t miss it — and he can’t help but open a large, boxy smile at your teasing.

“Damn, I’ve been saying all kinds of deranged shit the whole day, and Grinch is what gets to you?”

“It was all shits and giggles until you decided to come for my holiday movie.”

“Your holiday movie? Shit, all I’m hearing is you not denying your furry kink.”

You gape at him, “I do not have a furry kink! Grinch has a very important message and is a very nice, sweet Christmas story.”

“Except it’s terrifying and kinky as fuck,” your playfull pout earns a chuckle out of Taehyung “sorry to be the one to ruin your Christmas spirit, but it kinda feels like I did you a favour.”

“You have no place to say it.”

“Oh?”

“Ain’t your Christmas about anal or some shit?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, what about it?”

“How’s that a better way to get into your Christmas spirit?”

“Well,” he smirks “maybe you should try and see for yourself.”

You dismiss him with a laugh, and Taehyung feels something melting inside. Jesus fuck, what an infatuating sound.

Shaking your head, you finish the rest of you ramen before breaking the now comfortable silence between you.

“No, but for real. How do you do it?”

Taehyung frowns — but who is he to deny such information?

“I mean… if you must know, most people think you should start with pegging, but I think—”

“No! Why would I ask you about anal?” Oh my god, Taehyung needs to keep saying weird shit so you keep laughing like that.

“Of course, sorry, you know your stuff.”

“Maybe we should stop talking about anal.”

“You brought it up, just outright shaming me.”

“Ok, fair. My bad.”

He smiles, “what you wanna know?”

“How do you get into your holiday spirit?”

Taehyung slurps on his ramen before replying “uhm. I dunno if there’s a ritual or anything.”

“Like, when do you start to feel like it’s Christmas?”

“Usually when I get home.” Taehyung shrugs, but when his eyes meet yours and find an expectant glimmer swimming in your gaze, he makes an effort to think about it. “But it fully hits when me and my sister decorate the tree or when my mum bakes cookies.”

“That seems nice.”

“My birthday is on the 30th though, so I guess it’s kinda natural to me in a way.”

“Huh. So you’re almost Jesus.”

“Now, that’s something I’ve never heard before.” He chuckles.

“Too sinful?” You taunt, and he bites.

“Something like that. Wouldn’t pass being nailed in a cross, though.”

“Holy shit.” Your laugh sends a smile to his face. “Don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Didn’t he die so we could sin? Just doing my part.”

“Pretty sure that wasn’t it.” You shake your head, groaning dramatically. “You gonna ruin Christmas for me if you keep this up.”

“Let’s be real here, Soojin’s to blame too for renting the serial killer shack. You can’t get into the holiday spirit when your place is full of very suspicious wine stains.”

“That's fair,” you allow. “When she told me she rented a secluded little place for us to spend the winter break, I fully expected some fancy cottage like the one from The Holiday.”

“The Kate Winslet’s one?”

“Yes!”

“Yeah, we definitely don’t have that kinda budget. Jungkook spends too much on mattresses anyway,”

“What—”

“— besides, if this is a movie, it looks more like one of those big morality ones.”

“How so?”

“One of us is super greedy and presumptuous, so this is the universe’s attempt at humbling us.”

“Sending us to spend Christmas without our friends in a shitty place in a shitty town?”

“Clearly.”

“I mean, I’m a Literature major, it's not like I'll make any money.”

“Yeah, I’m in History, so.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I went to a regency themed party once and everyone looked so fine.”

“You chose your major for aesthetics?”

“What else is there to consider?”

You smile.

“And how's that going for you?”

“Three years in, not one costume party yet and my Duke attire is just gathering dust, so not great.”

“Maybe you should consider Fashion. I thought that was your major.”

“Yeah?” He pauses, considering it. “That's nice to know.” You smile and he taps his bottom lip. “But if it ain’t that kinda Christmas movie, what kind is it?”

You both ponder for a moment, before your attention returns to him, a mischievous edge to your eyes.

“Maybe it’s one of those we’re supposed to face our shit. Like the weird stuff we did in the past.”

Now, he knows you’re trying to imply something — but what? That he shouldn’t have run from you when he puked on you? ‘Cus that ain’t reasonable.

Ugh. Taehyung hates when people talk in riddles, he’s way too pretty for that.

“Maybe” he concedes, grabbing both of your bowls and getting up to throw them in the nearby trash.

He hears the small chuckle you let out, before you make your way to the door to grab a basket from a pile beside it.

Taehyung and you fall into peaceful conversation while roaming the few aisles in the store, and as the basket grows fuller, he wonders what he was shitting his pants for. Like what, he actually thought you’d just outright mention that day? You’re not cruel.

“It’s been a while since I went grocery shopping. Soojin usually buys for the two of us.” You say, grabbing some cookies from a shelf.

“I do it every week because Jungkook hates sharing food. He lost his shit once because I used all of his mayo.”

“All of his mayo? The hell kinda recipe you were making?”

…

You actually got pretty familiar with it.

“The food poisoning type.” When you laugh, he pretends that he's joking.

You finally reach the frozen section, eyes inspecting the different meat cuts available.

“What do you usually have for Christmas dinner?”

“My mom likes to make bulgogi and kimchi. Nothing special.” He shrugs. “What about you?”

You hesitate.

“Have you seen Home Alone?”

Taehyung scoffs.

“What you take me for?”

“Do you remember the mac n’ cheese scene?”

“Mhmm.”

“I’ve always wanted to have that for Christmas.” You purse your lips. “How do you fancy some bulgogi with mac n’ cheese?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You smile. “Budget Christmas supper.”

“Just how Jesus would like it.”

“Stop saying shit like that, Taehyung. It's the man's birthday, have some respect.”

“It’s about humility.” He rolls his eyes playfully. “Having a dirty mind is also a sin, you know.”

“Yeah, you’d know that.”

“Just spreading the word. You’re the sinner here.”

You level his gaze, a challenging smile tracing your face.

“Does that mean I won’t get presents this year? Have I not been a good girl?”

Ha.

No, you didn't just say that — his last brain cell just imagined it.

God, please don't say anything about being naughty.

He exhales quietly, opting for an easy out.

“If Soojin bought Jungkook a whole ass drum kit but got you nothing, then you should reconsider your friendship. Chicks before dicks or whatever.”

“I already accepted that Jungkook won. At this point I’m just the girl she shares rent with.”

“Well, I haven’t accepted shit. You please tell your rent sharer that Jungkook is mine.”

“You should tell him that, too. I’m afraid he might’ve forgotten.”

Taehyung whines.

“You don't have to say it.”

“Sorry, I’ll let you live in denial.” Your attention returns to the refrigerator, choosing a package of beef and placing it in the basket. “What about you get us something for breakfast and I figure out our dinner today?”

Taehyung nods, walking down the next aisle. He picks up what he deems necessary not to starve the next few days and secures a mediocre wine bottle on the way before he follows you to pay for everything.

Once outside, Taehyung opens the backseat door and starts to place the groceries there, but you don’t make a move to enter the car when he’s done.

He calls you, and when you turn to him, he finds a large, beaming smile plastered on your face. You point down the street where a decaying sign announces a Christmas tree lot sale.

Taehyung shakes his head, shivering as he rubs his hands together.

“No, c’mon. They probably just have those really ugly scrawny ones.” The way your smile immediately falters makes Taehyung feel like complete shit, so he strides to your side and adds, as convincing as possible: “but! We might be lucky! It’s a small town, so they probably didn’t sell that much to begin with.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek.

“You think so?”

“We can at least try.”

When you reach the sale, however, Taehyung cringes. There aren’t many trees left, and most of them already look terrible. He’s already trying to come up with something to comfort you, but when he looks at you? Shit, he might have thought it was Christmas morning already.

And the sight melts something inside of him. The warmth of your gaze when looking at utterly fucked up Christmas trees, as if they're brand new, makes him wanna be on the receiving end of that look.

You start to roam through the rows, inspecting the trees around you.

Now that he's not actively walking anymore, Taehyung feels his body stiffening from the cold, and he starts to tremble beside you.

“I don’t know why you're wearing that thin ass coat in this weather.” You taunt.

“My goal was to look hot, not to be warm.”

“Haven’t you regretted it yet?”

“It depends.” He smiles. “Do I look hot?”

“You look cold. Actually you look kinda purple now.”

“Not even pretty?” He pouts.

“You are pretty. There’s no changing that.” You grin, narrowing your eyes at him. “But now you just look so cold that I almost wanna warm you up. Make you hot.”

What. The. Fuck.

Your tone immediately takes him back to that day at the party. To the way you flirted with him with your back pressed against his front before he took you upstairs.

The way you never once darted your eyes away from him and he felt delirious, hot, under your attention — and it’s that same intensity he finds flashing across your gaze now.

No fucking way.

Forgetting what came next, Taehyung’s mind traps him in the memory of your hand reaching between your bodies to palm him through his pants, the recollection not as sexy due to the weird rumbling of his stomach.

Coming back to his senses, to your very present eyes staring at him, he curves his lips up.

“Sorry, but this Christmas I'm good girls exclusive.”

“You saying I’m a bad girl?” You pout.

Taehyung blinks a few times.

“Shit.” He huffs out a chuckle. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Fuck, you gotta stop pouting like that.

“You just messing with me.” He shakes his head, pointing at you. “I’mma go look on the other side of the lot now.”

You laugh as he turns, walking away from you.

He does not have the necessary control to deal with you flirting with him. Not when it makes no fucking sense. And the thing is that he isn’t often the smart one in his life (that’s Jungkook’s job when he isn’t struck dumb by his love for Soojin or his occasional hatred for Taehyung), so he isn't exactly the best at understanding people.

However — although he knows he’s unfairly hot — it makes no sense for you to want him. Not after what happened. And he’s not gonna risk another embarrassing situation after things are starting to resemble normalcy with you. As a matter of fact, Taehyung is too dumb to risk anything when there isn’t clear and explicit interest.

He shakes those thoughts off his head, focusing on finding a decent enough tree, but it takes around fifteen minutes of touching crumbling twigs for him to hear you calling his name from the other side of the lot.

You’re staring quizzically at a medium sized yellowish-green tree when he reaches you. To its credit, most of its branches — although looking like they could break just from being started at for too long — are still pretty full. Hopefully it can hold some ornaments to keep that smile on your face.

“What you think?”

“It does look better than the other ones.” He points. “You want this one?”

“Yep.”

“I’m so fucking happy” you declare, staring at the wack ass tree on your car’s roof.

Taehyung chuckles.

“I’m glad.”

You step to the driver’s side, moving to get in when you notice that Taehyung isn’t following.

“Ain’t you coming?”

“You bought a Christmas tree but won’t buy ornaments?” He teases, and a large grin spreads across your face. “C’mon, I saw some in the convenience store.”

You return to Taehyung’s side and you retrace your steps down the street.

“I feel like I must warn you that the last time I decorated a tree was when I was a kid.” You confess. “So it’ll probably look like shit.”

“That’s dumb. Every tree looks good if you decorate it with love.”

“Now you’re just being corny.” You nudge his side.

“I’m just trying to anticipate you to the fact that I also can’t decorate for shit.”

“So much for being experienced.”

“Experience means shit. For example, Jungkook is like, five years old and is so wiser than me already.”

“He did drive straight against a light pole in a parking lot. So maybe you’re setting the bar too low.”

“You know, you can insult me all you want, but I won’t let you come for my Kookie.”

“Your cookie?” You tease.

“What you smirking for? God, you have such a filthy mind.”

“Do not!”

“No way you watch Grinch with that dirty mind and do not have a furry kink.”

“Shut up.” You give his arm a light smack, but you’re giggling when you push open the store’s door for the second time that afternoon.

Taehyung guides you to a shelf with a bunch of Christmas themed products, and you both start to choose from little foam and plastic ornaments.

“Fuck, that’s so cute.” He says, holding a mini foam sock you picked in his large hands.

“I know, right? Loved those little stars you got, too.” You say, placing it all over the register.

“Nice to see you two again.” The cashier grins.

“We bought a tree, so we needed some ornaments.” Taehyung reasons.

“Sure.” He looks at the two of you for a second. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry, but you guys are such a cute couple.”

Taehyung’s face falls.

He kinda hates hearing stuff like this.

He’s heard people saying that about him and Soojin when they were fighting at a toy store trying to settle on something to buy Kook for Children’s day, and he’s heard it when he was having breakfast with a girl he had hooked up with — whose name he spent the whole meal trying to remember.

However, he never really heard it with Jungkook, even when the boy spent a whole dinner fucking sniffling his neck due to a new loation Taehyung had bought. Neither had he heard it when he was all smiles and giggles with a guy he saw for a while some months ago.

So he doesn’t really give those comments any credit. Especially because he knows he looks cute with anyone.

You, on the other hand, seem to think it’s outright hilarious.

“Thank you!” You laugh. “We aren’t together, though.”

Ha.

No way you were seriously flirting with him.

“Oh. Sorry if I…”

“No, it’s okay.” You reassure. “We sure are cute.”

Your prideful smile has Taehyung smiling too, despite himself. He likes how confidence looks on you.

The cashier rings you up, and Taehyung grabs the bags, following you outside.

When he finally stops struggling to place the tree near the house’s fireplace, it’s already dark outside.

You tried to help him a couple times, but Taehyung was intransigent, especially because of the branches — he was full of little cuts and scratches when he was done. Which is fine, makes him look kinda edgy, but he didn’t want to see them on your soft skin.

You drop the bags with the ornaments on the floor by his side, hands coming to rest on your hips. “You know, oddly enough I don’t know of any movie that has a Christmas tree decoration scene.”

“There’s that Friends scene where they decorate Monica’s tree.”

“Really? Never watched Friends.”

Taehyung gasps dramatically.

“And you like Grinch? Can’t believe I’m gonna spend Christmas with a psychopath.” He pauses. “Oh god, did Soojin rent this house for you to kill me?”

“Still with the Grinch judgment?”

“If anything I think I’m not judging enough.” You roll your eyes. “You seriously never seen Friends?”

“I don’t really like series. Too much commitment.”

“Ohhh, didn’t know you were a player.” He teases, and you laugh.

“What can I say. I'm as heartless as they come.”

“You do look very cold holding that little plush candy cane.”

“Isn't it part of the fuckboy agenda to pretend to be sweet and caring?”

“So you're manipulative kind too? Damn, you should come with a warning.”

“Who cares about affective responsibility anyway?”

He sighs, “I have so much to learn.”

You giggle, shaking your head, and Taehyung grabs another ornament bag.

“Wait, let me set the mood.” You turn around, grabbing your phone from the couche’s armrest and putting on a Christmas playlist.

As Justin Bieber’s fetus voice starts filling up the room, Taehyung lets out a loud chuckle.

“Mistletoe?”

“You seriously coming for every Christmas thing I like?” You groan at his mocking tone. “Let me live, Taehyung.”

“I’d let you, but you not doing it right.” He says, approaching you to grab the phone from your hands, but you quickly step away.

“Hell, no. This song is hella cute, you’re not changing it. Just enjoy.”

“Uh, fine. Can I choose the next one?”

“... ok. But it needs to be Christmas related.”

“I have my own Christmas playlist, you know.”

“If it doesn’t have Mistletoe on it, then I already know it’s shit.”

He gapes, feigning offense.

“Damn, the disrespect. May George Michael never hear you.”

And then you two start to assemble the little ornaments around your shitty tree, mocking each other’s music taste but enjoying and absentmindedly swinging to every song.

It’s only when Mariah Carrey’s voice sounds through your phone that you stop for a second. Your eyes find Taehyung’s with ease, when he too halts his actions after carefully hanging a little star in one of the branches.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Need more Christmas wisdom?”

“Kinda.”

“Shoot.”

“Can you tell me more about holidays with your family?”

“Sure. What do you wanna know?”

“Anything.”

“Please, be more vague.”

You think, before grabbing a little Santa hat from the bag.

“How is decorating the tree with your sister like?”

“Uhm, she’s always very organized. She likes to plan it and she used to come up with different themes every year.” He smiles to himself. “One year she convinced us to buy a fake white tree because she thought it was fancy or something. It looked like shit when we finished decorating it, so my mum took us to a last minute tree hunt and we all started a whole different decoration before the rest of the family arrived for dinner.”

“Cute.”

“Yeah, now she loves little elf ornaments. My dad bought some once and she lost her shit because of how cute they are, so she plans her decoration around them every year.”

“Oh. We should’ve bought little elfs, then.”

“Nah, I’m tired of them. This way is nice.” Taehyung opens a bag with little plastic sleigh decorations and you two start to distribute them.

“So she’s a planner. How do you decorate?”

“I usually just do as she says. You know. Shoving the little things and hoping they don’t fall.” You chuckle and Taehyung looks at you. “What about you? How’s tree decorating with your family?”

You pause, letting out a long breath before you answer, “Don’t have that many memories to choose from, honestly.”

Taehyung frowns, before a little confused laugh leaves his lips.

“What, are you traumatized or something?”

Your eyes widen when you meet his gaze, smile completely wiped from your face as your hands halt mid-air.

Taehyung immediately panics, synapses synapsing before—

Well. Shit.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t ha—”

His apologies are interrupted by the loud sound of your laughter. He almost thinks he’s imagining it before he turns to you, the little sleigh ornament falling from your hands as you lean on your knees.

“Are you… uh, okay?”

“Can’t believe you just asked that.” You try to catch your breath, laughter breaking into little giggles.

“I’m really sorry, though, I don’t kno—”

“Taehyung,” you interrupt again, biting your lip in an attempt to contain your amusement, “it’s fine, honestly. I’m okay with it, just didn’t expect you to straight up say it.” You giggle a bit more as he processes your words.

“Oh… so you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I don’t have a good relationship with my parents, and this is my first Christmas without them. Don’t wanna talk about it… sorry if it’s weird or it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, you didn’t.” Taehyung fights the urge to apologize again, but he can help repeating himself. “You really ok, though?”

“Yeah. Really. Don’t worry about it.”

He nods, thinking before clearing his throat, “so. Want me to tell you more holiday with the Kims stories?”

Taehyung makes an effort not to let things become awkward, but it hits him then that this must be a pretty important Christmas for you — if the eager way you nod is anything to go by — and he kinda feels bad that you have to spend it with him.

Despite his concern, you fall into your now familiar laughing and teasing as he goes on to tell a bunch of family memories while you two finish up the tree.

Taehyung never had problems falling asleep. Actually, if anything, he had problems staying awake — being so hot can be exhausting sometimes. Ugh, who is he kidding? If anyone knows this, it is you. You, with your pretty smile and your pretty eyes and your pretty hands and your pretty face and your pretty voice and your fucking gorgeous body and your sense of—

Uhm. You got the point.

Anyway.

Ahem.

Where was he?

Oh, yeah.

Taehyung never really had problems sleeping, but that night, after bidding you goodnight and returning to the warmth of his covers after a good steamy shower, he felt restless.

A weird sense of responsibility weighted on him, and he promised himself that he’d try to make this holiday remarkable for you — and that he’d keep that fucking smile on your face. But even after his resolution, his body felt foreign. Taehyung kept shifting inside the covers, gut turning and twisting almost as if he had eaten something he shouldn’t and the thought kept him awake for hours on end until he realized that it resembled butterflies.

He pretended like he didn’t know why he was feeling that, but, after he finally drifted off, your face starred his every dream.

“Merry Christmas Eve!”

“So you finally remembered I exist, hum?” Taehyung secures his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he places the dishes in the sink.

You were twenty minutes deep into a Love Actually rant when his ringtone pierced through your argument. You shut up immediately, only then realizing how caught up you’ve gotten, but Taehyung was almost disappointed when you put away your lunch plate and left the kitchen to provide some privacy.

“What? I don’t remember you calling me when I was in the hospital yesterday.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, grabbing his phone properly as he makes his way to his bedroom.

“People grieve in different ways, Jungkook. You must learn to respect that.”

“What are you grieving, asshole, I didn’t die.”

“Your dignity did. Driving straight against a light pole then whining over a twisted ankle.”

“The light pole was in my blind spot.”

“So you did whine?”

“Like a proper man.” Taehyung chuckles.

“I know you’re fine, Soojin kept me updated. I figured you were tired, so I didn’t call or anything.”

“Pretty sure you sent a text blaming me for getting into an accident.”

“It kinda was your fault, though, wasn’t it, Kook?”

Jungkook gets silent on the line for a second, before letting out a loud exhale.

“Are you mad with me?”

Taehyung frowns.

“What you talking about?”

“Fuck, you are, aren’t you? I just… I’m sorry, man. I know you didn’t wanna go in the first place but I kept asking you to go, and now you’re there alone.”

“Hum. I don’t accept your apology, tho—”

“Wow. Okay, then. I mean, it wasn’t my fault you puked on her and went all incognito, so it seems a bit harsh, but go off, I guess.”

“The hell? I was gonna say I don’t accept it ‘cus there’s nothing to apologize for, jackass.”

“Oh.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “Right. Appreciate it, man. But for real, I’m sorry. Hope things aren’t too awkward there.”

Taehyung chews the inside of his cheek.

“Actually? Things are ok. Went to town to buy some stuff with her yesterday and she’s so cool, man. We’re cool.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I was a bit in my head at first, but it’s fine now.”

“Sweet! In that case, you’re welcome.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but huffs out a chuckle.

“Yeah, thank you for crashing your car, it made me happy.”

“Everything for you, Tae.”

“Shit. I kinda miss you, tough.”

“Yeah, same. But we’ll be there soon enough.”

“Great. Now, have you ever realized how amazing Emma Thompson is on Love Actually? I feel like we don’t give her enough love, and I was just reflecting on some shit.”

“Oh my god, I kinda thought the same thing the last time we watched it. I mean, let's think about it for a sec here.”

Taehyung could distinctly hear the corny Christmas soundtrack when he set foot outside his room after hours trying to soothe his Jungkook deficiency. He smiled to himself, approaching the living room.

He finds you clutching the blanket to your chest, eyes focused on the action on the TV screen.

“You ok?” His question makes you jump on the couch, hand immediately flying to your chest.

“Jesus, Taehyung! Announce yourself, goddammit!” You try to catch your erratic breath as he chuckles.

“My bad.” You grab the remote to jump back a few scenes. “What are you watching?”

“Nightmare before Christmas.”

“Nice choice.”

“Wanna join?”

“Nah. Think it's time to start making dinner.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure, let's go.”

You start to peel the covers off you, but Taehyung shakes his hand quickly.

“Let me take care of it! You can chill.”

You frown, “you don't need help?”

“No, I can figure it out by myself, enjoy your marathon.”

Okay, he knows what you're thinking, and it does seem like a pretty terrible idea given… well, the way you two met. But! Taehyung is nothing but a dedicated man, and that night with you he was humbled. So, he spent the months following the incident learning and researching and — after getting fairly acquainted with food poisoning and stressing the fuck outta Jungkook — he finally mastered the art of cooking.

…

That was misleading, sorry.

He can confidently make popcorn, and hesitantly make ramen and mac and cheese — everything an adult needs to survive, honestly —, and tonight's menu just so happens to contain one of his specialties. He just has to figure out the bulgogi part, and then he's gonna blow your fucking mind.

“Oh, by the way,” you call from the couch as he makes his way to the kitchen area “I didn't find any good brands of mac and cheese yesterday, so I bought the ingredients to make it from scratch. Hope it's okay?”

Well, shit.

Taehyung reassures you weakly, not wanting to take that smile off your face, and takes a deep breath before starting to gather the ingredients.

How hard can it be, really?

Surprising absolutely no one, Taehyung didn't figure shit out.

What he did, though, in the twenty minutes it took for him to come to his senses, was learn a few big words. Like marinated. What does it even mean? And why does every recipe site assume he knows it? He knows shit.

Also, why is mac and cheese sauce not just melted cheese? Makes absolutely no fucking sense. Honestly? Straight up cynical.

But you see kids, Taehyung didn’t just learn to make popcorn and instant food during the previous months. In fact, he also did a little of what you could call a character development (who would’ve thought that throwing up over the hottest girl he’s even met could teach you so much about life? Amazing, honestly), and that’s why now, instead of getting creative, he decides to just call for you.

“Yeah?” You answer dismissively, attention still in the skeleton singing on the screen.

“I, uh… need your help.”

You pause the movie, turning your body to face him over the couch.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Honestly?” His smile is shy as he looks away from you. “I can't cook for shit. Hate to ask after telling you I would do it, but I also feel like food poisoning isn't on your Christmas bucket list, so… can you help me with dinner?”

Your smile, on the other hand, is blissful.

“How do you survive?”

“Barely. But Jungkook is a good cook.”

“Oh, yeah.” You consider. “Soojin has started to eat more at home after he started cooking for us too.”

“So… will you help me?”

“Of course.” You're already on your feet by the time the words leave your mouth, and Taehyung can see you're wearing that cute ass bear pajamas from yesterday. You look so fucking soft and comfortable.

When you join him in the kitchen he can’t help but smile at the way your outfit matches his own — although his pattern is of little tigers. You search briefly around the cabinets and reach for the wine he got the day before, and you two let the sweet alcohol tint your lips as you look through all the ingredients he displayed on the counter.

“Soojin made mac and cheese the other day, so I’ll do her way. Also, bulgogi ain’t really that hard, anyway. Just… do as I say.”

“Sure.”

Taehyung pays close attention to your instructions, and you task him with a basic chopping job that — although really fucking dangerous considering the size of the knife — seems easy enough that he won’t fuck it up. You charge yourself with the pasta, filling a pan with water and turning up the heat.

“What does one usually do after supper?”

“Well, it varies. My brother likes to watch Christmas movies. My parents would just sleep. Jungkook likes to get shitfaced and dance.”

“And you?”

“I’m the one he dances with.” You smile.

“Cute.”

“What you wanna do?”

“Uhm… watch movies? There’s a few remaining on my list.”

“We could do that.”

“Oh, sorry. Did I give you the impression that I wanted to do it with you?”

“As if. I’m your Christmas mentor, you need me.”

“Need no such thing anymore. Besides, I feel like I mentored you a bit too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Care to tell me how?”

“For one, if it wasn’t for me, you’d still think reindeers aren’t real.”

“Hey, that’s not—”

“And you’d be left to eat basic ass ramen for Christmas dinner.”

“What I’m hearing is that you took the fun outta my holidays.”

“Oh, yeah? I bought some ramen yesterday, suit yourself.”

“God, you’re so mean, so cold. But that's okay. I happen to have a very big heart, so I forgive your lack of gratitude. We can still watch something together.”

“But I’m not apologizing.”

“You’ll watch your movies alone then?”

“Don’t exactly feel like holding your hand when you get scared.”

“What kinda Christmas movies are you watching?”

“Old scary Grinch.” Your smile only widens when Taehyung groans.

“Stop it.” He nudges you. “Your water is boiling already.”

“C’mon, Tae, let’s face some childhood fears, maybe that’s what our movie is about.”

He rolls his eyes, but your laugh pulls a smile outta him.

At some point, after around two hours of teasing and working through the wine bottle — now long forgotten and replaced by the cheap beer you got at the store —, you two manage to finish dinner. Now, Taehyung ain't no chef. But if the smell is anything to go by, this might just be his best meal, and he's happy he was able to contribute.

He sets the table while you give the food the final touches, and in no time you two are sitting across from each other, bulgogi mac and cheese bowls waiting in front of you, while Michael Bublé's voice envelops the house.

Taehyung fills his spoon and takes the first bite.

Holy shit.

For a second, he just lets the food sit on his tongue. The flavor coating his every sense as you stare expectantly at him. Closing his eyes, he lets out a low sigh; he could never have enough creativity to describe such a taste.

What he knows of, though, is that it tastes like shit.

Thoroughly and unmistakably garbage and he's left surprised at how you two were able to mess up this bad… Okay, maybe not that surprised: he was there after all — but oh my god, you can't cook for your life!

But, when he opens his eyes, meeting your glimmering ones, he doesn't have it in his heart to tell you. Maybe you just have a different taste or something, maybe your food is too refined for his traumatized palate.

So, he gathers his strength and chews the fucking pasta.

“So?” You ask, after he swallows.

“Mhmmm” he hums “it's definitely something.”

Your face drops on cue, and Taehyung offers a weak smile when you reach for your own spoon, shoving pasta in your mouth and groaning when it touches your tongue.

“Oh my god”, you quickly get a napkin to spit the food. “But… it smells so good. How did I fucked this up?” You drop your head on your palms over the table.

“It does smell delicious.” He inhales deeply, letting the deceiving dish smell soothe his senses after the atrocious taste.

“I’m so sorry.” You groan.

“For what?”

“Ruining our Christmas dinner.”

“What you talking about? Pretty sure I can get full just by sniffling the shit out of this.” You lift your face from your hands, meeting his attempt to lighten the mood.

“I’m serious.”

“So what? You think I could’ve done better?” He chuckles. “Honestly, you’re miles ahead of my cooking skills just for making it smell like food.” He continues when a small smile tugs at your lips. “Definitely understand why Soojin wasn’t eating at home before Jungkook, but it looks great nonetheless.”

You giggle faintly.

“But for real… what are we gonna do?”

He looks around the kitchen, before smiling at you.

“Think I'm gonna suit myself with some basic ass ramen for Christmas dinner.”

After cleaning the table and making sure to strictly follow the basic three step ramen instructions, you two move your Christmas supper to the couch — or rather, you return to your cozy place under the blankets and he gets acquainted with the nearby armchair.

It feels ridiculously comfortable. And as you two keep making your way through Bridget Jones' Diary, Taehyung realizes a few weird things.

The first, is that he doesn’t know how you ever manage to finish movies, because you constantly feel the need to pause and over analyze a scene for at least five minutes before you deem him informed enough to move onto the next one. He doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds it adorable, especially when you rolled up your sleeves, tossed the empty ramen bowl on the coffee table and explained to him almost angrily why Bridget’s resignation scene is real cinema or something.

The second, and perhaps most alarming one, is that he hasn’t paid attention to a single scene after the first time you paused. His eyes apparently forget how to strain away from you. From your arms, from your hair, from your smiles and chuckles. You seem to be aware that he’s staring, but pretend that it's just the spiciness of the ramen that got you fanning yourself, while making no effort whatsoever to push the blankets away from you.

You’re just… entracing. So beautiful, so excited, so worked up, so cute and just such a fucking menace that he feels like he’s spinning — cheap bear aside, he doesn’t think it’s on alcohol he’s drunk on.

Although, from the amount of cans accumulated by his and yours feet, you two aren’t exactly sober either.

…

Yeah, sure, it’s the beer. The alcohol. He’s drunk. That’s it.

“Taehyung, can I ask you something?” Your voice breaks through his mind, snapping him out of his inner ramblings.

“Sure.”

“I know you hate it. But can you maybe watch Grinch with me too?” And you quickly add, before he can even open his mouth to contest: “I really like it, and it’s the last one on my list, and” you hiccup “maybe you can grow to like it now as an adult!”

He groans.

“Why do you like that shit?”

“Please! I don’t wanna watch it alone.”

“I don’t know…”

You look around the room, as if trying to find something that will convince him, but it’s when Taehyung sips on his beer that your eyes lit up with an idea.

“Didn’t you say you liked to get shitfaced and then dance with Jungkook during Christmas?”

“... yeah?”

“Then let’s do that! Let’s get really drunk,” you hiccup again, letting out a little giggle. “Ok, maybe that part is covered. So, let's dance, then watch Grinch!”

“You wanna dance?”

“Then watch Grinch!” You repeat, words slurred in the cutest little way. “I’ll do it for you, you do it for me.”

You don’t wait for him to agree before you’re on your feet, crossing the space between you and grabbing his hands to help him rise from the couch — but Taehyung doesn’t fight any of it. Because the pout on your lips and the way your eyes are glimmering with fondness (and intoxication too, he’s sure), makes him wanna do just everything you tell him too.

You set your phone on the coffee table and face him again.

“Oh” you giggle, clumsily stepping back when you realize just how close you two are. You clear your throat. “So how do you two do it?”

“We just dance. There’s no plan or a right way to do it, just… dance.” He blinks.

Fuck, he’s really drunk.

“Okay.”

He giggles at your uneasiness, reaching for your phone and starting one of his Christmas playlists. He doesn’t need much to start swaying when a sweet jazz rhythm sounds through your speakers. He shakes his shoulders playfully, earning a laugh from you.

“Damn, you’re so old.”

He chuckles.

“What you waiting for? Just dance with me.”

He grabs your wrists and guides you to swing with him, lifting your arms and twisting you before letting you to set your own pace with a large smile on your face.

Taehyung feels so at peace. The alcohol easing his thoughts, the jazz moving his body, your cute giggles gracing his ears.

“I'll give it to you, your music taste isn't bad.”

He clicks his tongue.

“You wouldn't be swaying like that to Mistletoe, I guarantee you.”

“Wanna bet?” You challenge, already grabbing your phone to change the song.

Taehyung laughs when you switch up your dancing style to something far more agitated than the song demands, clumsily circling the coffee table. He's clearly more skilled than you, so he tries to exaggerate and act up his movements to match yours.

“Okay, now sing with me” you clap your hands “— but Imma be under the mistletoe. With youuu” you point at him “shawty with you.”

You can't finish the chorus as you burst into little giggles, and Taehyung follows suit.

“Shut up.”

“That's the only tradition left, I think.”

“Huh?”

“The mistletoe.”

He stumbles on the couch.

“What?”

You look at him for a second, and your grin falters just a little before you shake your head.

“Why so violent with the couch? No need to be scared.” You laugh. “Damn, you're such a bad dancer.”

Taehyung can't understand mixed signals when he's sober — so it's not like he's gonna try when he’s this drunk.

“How dare you! If the music was better it'd definitely be easier. Put on some nice Stray Kids if you really wanna know what I'm made of.”

It’s a ridiculous scene, really. One that he wouldn’t believe could’ve happened a day before, but here you are, dancing around the living room, bumping into the furniture and laughing like two children as a way to force him to watch a stupid Christmas movie with you.

And fuck, he likes it.

He likes the way your shirt lifts whenever you raise your arms, exposing a line of your lower stomach. He likes the way your ass shakes when you try to make a funny move. He likes the way a thin layer of sweat coats your exposed skin, and how desperate he is to lick it clean. He likes the way you look at him, like he is the one making you this fucking happy.

And then you finally pause the music.

“I'll admit. If History doesn’t work, you can definitely make a career out of dancing.”

“Thanks.” He smiles. “You should stick to Literature, though.”

“Hey!”

You laugh, shoving him playfully as you let your body fall on the couch, pushing the blanket to the armrest and away from you. He doesn’t bat an eye when he sits beside you this time.

“Can we watch it now?”

He sighs. “Yeah, whatever.”

You reach for the remote and before Taehyung can ever prepare himself, the stupid narrator is already introducing you two to Whoville.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize he’s not ready to face any childhood fears today, because as Jim Carey’s furry face is slowly but surely shown, he’s already shivering and looking away.

This time, though, you don’t ignore his lack of attention to the movie.

“Oh my god” you laugh, pausing the movie six minutes in, Grinch’s ugly ass face occupying the whole screen. “You’re scared scared of it. Actually scared.”

He scoffs.

“No, I’m not?”

“Why are you looking away, then?”

“Nothing, you can keep going.”

You smirk, “okay.”

Taehyung is able to stomach the next few scenes, complaining at the stupid hairstyles and outfits the characters use while you just eye him amused. When Grinch’s face shows up again, Taehyung starts to restlessly shift on the couch to have an excuse to look away, and the constant cracking of the backrest is what prompts you to pause the movie again.

“Stop moving so much. You gonna break the couch.”

“It’s just uncomfortable. Can’t find a good position.”

“Taehyung, we can choose a different movie if you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared though, this movie is fine.”

“The movie is, you aren’t.”

He crosses his arms, but doesn’t say anything.

“You know, you don’t look like someone who scares easily.”

“Because I’m not.”

“You've been cringing since the movie began.”

“Because it's bad.” Damn, he sounds like a five year old.

You shift on the couch to face him, before tugging on his elbow lightly, compelling him to meet your eyes.

“If you admit you’re scared, I’ll change it.”

Your stare is intense as you wait for him to give in and he suddenly feels warm. Your hand is still resting on his arm, and a weird stir on his stomach makes Taehyung feel like that isn’t contact enough — but he blames it on the beer for the time it takes for him to remember how to form syllables.

Shaking his head, he scoffs.

“No wonder you like Grinch so much, you’re just like him.”

“Damn, just like him? Now who’s the mean one?”

“Still you.”

“Well, you just compared me to Jim Carrey in a hairy green costume, so.”

“I mean, you’re not as bad on the eyes.”

“Wow, thanks. That’s some competition.”

He doesn’t think. He says.

“You don’t have competition. You're like, in a league of your own.”

The chalet Soojin found was the only one with three bedrooms y’all could afford, but as you two have quickly learned these last days, that doesn’t mean that it was a good place. Actually, Taehyung only stopped calling it a shack because Jungkook told him it made Soojin sad — but even with every door and window closed, he’s still able to catch you shivering under the cold breeze breaching through the shit heating system. Fuck this place and how it makes you cold.

“Oh.” It's all you manage to reply.

“And that’s even worse.”

“How?” You offer him a little, unconvincing laugh.

“You deceive. Grinch would’ve succeeded on his stupid plan if he seduced people.”

“So what, am I seducing you or something?”

He doesn’t answer.

No, he can't answer that. Not with words, at least. Not with the way the alcohol is steadily dissolving his filters, and not with the way you're looking at him. So he just stares at you.

He just stares at you as if your eyes hold the answers to all of his questions — and that’s saying something because he has a lot of them — and then you wet your lips, dragging his eyes down your face. The sensitive flesh is tinted red, a memory of the spicy sauce and wine you just had, now glistening with your saliva too. And Taehyungs feels the urge to taste it.

It’s you, however, that finally leans in, erasing the space between you to smash your lips against his in a kiss that Taehyung feels like he waited his whole life for.

And the desperation is evident, the need to make up for a missed time neither of you were aware of, so his hand reaches for the nape of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and slide his tongue against yours. It's messy and mostly sloppy, but it lights a fire inside both of you.

You further press your mouths together, Taehyung’s breath tangling with yours in what looks like an attempt to eat each other’s faces off — and fuck, he wants nothing less.

It takes only a light touch on your thigh for you to promptly sway your leg over his hips, straddling his thighs without breaking contact for a second.

The new angle allows for him to feel all of you. The weight of your body and the taste of your tongue makes his mind spin, and shit he can’t focus on technique for his life, he just wants to keep his mouth on yours forever.

Taehyung’s large palms skim up your thighs, and he grabs a handful of your ass, pushing a low breathy moan out of your throat. Shit. If he was eager before, Taehyung’s actions now turn straight up feral, hungrily seeking your lips while pressing you down on his body, feeling a shiver run down his spine at the way you seem to effortlessly fit above him.

The new found intensity makes your knee jolt on the remote beside your leg. You pause the kiss for a moment to giggle drunkenly when Grinch’s voice sounds through the room, and that’s when Taehyung’s inebriated thoughts finally seem to catch up to him.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

You’re drunk. Shit, you’re drunk as fuck. He can taste it. He can feel it in the way your hands clumsily tug on his hair, and in the way your hips uncoordinatedly roll over his.

Shit.

He squeezes his eyes further shut, trying to get some sense into his head, and finally gathers enough control to pull away.

You immediately frown, chasing after his lips, but he turns his face.

“Tae?”

He swallows at the breathless way your voice comes out, the nickname rolling off your tongue just makes him wanna grab your face again and resume the messy make out session. So, with his mind still spinning, he struggles to find the right words when he opens his mouth.

“I think we shouldn’t do this.” His voice is slurred.

You freeze, backing away just a bit to inspect his elusive face, and whatever you find there makes your whole expression drop. You clear your throat awkwardly and lift your leg to move away from his thighs. Taehyung’s hands feel hella empty without your hips to hold on to, but he pushes through the feeling, rising from the couch as soon as you’re securely away, and bolts away to his room down the corridor, pants awfully tight.

Taehyung feels like shit the next morning, in more ways than one.

He’s not sure how he was even able to fall asleep — although the excessive amount of alcohol in his blood might have helped.

He knows he did the right thing stopping it: you were both way past clarity for clear consent, but in all his years as a certified fuckboy he never communicated that so poorly, and never ever made someone feel undesirable — and he fears that's exactly what he did last night. Which couldn’t be farther from the truth, because holy fuck he doesn’t think he’s ever desired someone so desperately.

However, as much as he would love to do it all again, much much more sober, he can’t assume the same for you. Especially not after the ridiculous way he handled the situation. But he shouldn’t leave it like that. No, he has to talk to you, to explain and then apologize. It’s still Christmas after all, and the last thing he wants is to give you another bad holiday memory.

That thought is enough to prompt him out of bed, and Taehyung crosses the corridor with surprising confidence before stopping at your door.

Taking a deep breath, he lightly knocks before closing his hand around the handle, turning it and pushing it open.

He expects to find you sleeping. He kinda expected you to be awake too, deep in thought just as he was — but fuck, he definitely wasn't expecting that.

You coat your fingers in your arousal before pushing them up to circle your clit. The relief is immediate, and you have to cover your mouth with your free hand to prevent your pleasure from spilling from your lips.

Your eyes flutter shut when you imagine what Taehyung's long fingers would feel like replacing yours. How he would drag them up and down your folds, spreading your juices and making your pussy all nice and slick for him, before plunging them inside, scissoring you open and curving just the right way.

Fuck, you’re so fucking horny.

You should've found a way to blow some steam, to relieve that pressure before you came on this trip. Granted, you didn’t really know you and Taehyung would be by yourselves, so the only thing you expected from him were avoidant eyes and quick, uncomfortable escapes — which you got last night, after your stupid drunk ass thought it was a good idea to kiss him. Shit, what did you have in mind?

Oh, right. Kim Taehyung.

The first time you ever saw him, in that cursed party, you were immediately sure of one thing: Kim Taehyung is tailor-made by hell. There’s no other way to explain his alluring eyes, that burn with such intensity that the mere glance your way makes you feel like the hottest fucking person alive; or his lips, soft and plumpy lips, that spread in the utmost tempting smirk you’ve ever seen. And his body? Fuck, he’s so hot that you honestly wanna eat your fist whenever you look at him.

So, it’s fair to say, you were pretty fucking happy that he made a move on you on that party. To this day, remembering the way his back was pressed against yours and the words he whispered in your ear? The promises he made? You just knew you would do everything to see them through.

But you feel like you’ve been trapped in your own fucked up version of groundhog day. One in which every time a hot person sees something in you that deems you fuckable, you’re always fucking interrupted. You feel like you’ve been edged for months now, starting with Taehyung puking on you, followed by you and Jimin being interrupted when you were searching for something to use as bondage and last month, when you had your fingers deep inside one of your classmates pussy and her sister decided to visit her the very same moment.

You’re a simple girl, with simple needs. You just want to cum.

And despite all the months without basic, mature communication, you still fucking wanted Taehyung to blow your back. God, the things you heard of him, the rumors, the giggling feedback… all ruined because as soon as he made sure you were clean and held no evidence of his lunch, he disappeared as if you had imagined him. But how could you ever blame him for getting sick? You’ve worked six months in a nursery last year, you’re pretty much immune to vomit at this point.

Nonetheless, his lack of opening after it all made you shut down that window, and you didn’t really gave it much thought until Jungkook decided to fucking destroy his car (honestly, how could he drive straight against a fucking pole, so damn inconvenient!) and you and Taehyung were left to your own devices in a shitshow of a town. And then, you got everything but what you expected.

You found out that his sweet smile can be just as alluring as his smirk. And that his eyes can hold a kindness and an innocence so genuine that’s almost infuriating. That he’s the silliest fucking man alive and you couldn’t have asked for a better person to make you company during Christmas — he is basically Jesus after all. The GOAT of Christmas and shit.

But after last night? After remembering what his lips taste like? After remembering the weight of his hands as they trace your legs and set every inch of your skin on fire? Shit, you’re not sure how you went a single day without it.

Consequently, after an hour tossing and turning on bed, you came up with a clear plan of action: you would apologize. Would face him, and apologize for kissing his last night and for making him uncomfortable. But fuck, you have to deal with that knot in the pit of your stomach before setting foot out of bed.

With that in mind, you push your fingers deep inside your pussy, stroking your walls the way you can just imagine that he would, reaching spots that yours never could. You bite the palm over your mouth, trying to keep a loud moan from slipping out when you start to pump your fingers with purpose, seeking release as if your life depended on it.

You’re so pent up that it doesn’t take long before you start to feel your pussy constricting around your digits, and you can sense your sanity drifting away the closer you get — making you thoughtlessly drop your hand from your mouth.

“Fuck” you moan, curving your digits to seek your g-spot “Taehyung!”

“I’m here!”

It takes longer than it probably should for you to understand that no, you didn’t just imagine his voice replying to you — but realization does hit you eventually, and you snap your eyes wide open.

You take your soaked fingers away from your center, opening your legs as your head lifts from the pillow to find Taehyung, not imagined — although dreamy — with his back turned to you on the threshold.

“Oh my god” you whisper, desperation lacing your tone as you rush to cover yourself, even if he can’t see you “oh my god, shit, I’m…”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts, voice strained. “I just… I came to— I’ll go now.” He stutters, and the next second he is out of your room, closing the door behind him.

Your body doesn’t move for the next ten minutes at least, and you have to gather all of your self respect to cast away the tears threatening to spill from the overwhelming shame consuming you.

Taehyung just saw you knuckles deep inside your pussy.

Taehyung just saw you knuckles deep inside your pussy, moaning his fucking name.

And you didn’t even get to cum.

Is it too dramatic to pack your things and drive back?

People change universities all the time, right? Maybe you can find a nice Literature program in another city, move the fuck away from Taehyung to never have to see his face again.

Deep breaths.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Get your shit together, you’re not a spoiled white young man. You have to face your shit. You have to apologize.

In.

Out.

You slip out of bed, putting on sweatpants and a shirt over your sweaty skin, feeling warm all over. You walk to the door, testing different sentences as you let your head thump against the thick wood. How could you forget to lock this shit? You’re never ever getting drunk again.

Your steps are hesitant as you make your way across the hall, rehearsing a weird apology in your head as you try to build momentum — all in vain, because as soon as you see him, sitting on the floor and looking at the gift in his hands as if it has just spoken to him, your body tenses up and every possibility of courage evades you.

The experience is almost humbling, because you finally understand why he ran away all those months ago instead of facing you. Fuck being the bigger man, you’re gonna pretend as if nothing happened.

Taehyung acknowledges you when you step closer, coming to a stop near him with your hands shaking behind your back. You regret not washing your face before leaving your room, because you can only imagine how disheveled you look right now: embarrassed and sexually frustrated. You’re feeling so hot that for a second you wonder if you can actually melt.

His face doesn’t betray any emotion. If you squint, you can find what looks like confusion in his gaze, but you don’t level his eyes for enough time to assess it.

“I figured we could open up the presents we got.” He states, simply, as if he didn’t just catch you masturbating. You blink, setting your lips in a thin line. You know what? Fuck it. You drop to his side, crossing your legs and keeping your eyes on the gift Soojin bought you and feeling your face burning with his attention. “Let’s open them together. That’s… uhm, that’s how me and my siblings do it.” He instructs, and you nod, but as you both busy yourselves with the wrappings it’s clear from the clumsiness of your actions that your minds are clearly somewhere else.

You peel off the covers of a black paper box, and absentmindedly open the lid, baring its content to both of you.

“Fuck” you hear Taehyung choke under his breath when his gaze falls on your gift, completely forgetting the Céline pants Jungkook got him.

You see, Soojin is a strong advocate for self love and all of her presents always involve some kind of weird liberal feminist agenda to help you girlboss your way through life. So, when she started to randomly ask for your clothing size, you were sure she was gonna buy you some of those weird shirts with a corny quote like Happy, Unbothered, Disciplined and Growing (all things you couldn’t relate too, but would undoubtedly sport in the name of friendship).

You should have suspected, though, when she went through your underwear drawer, but she did seem genuine when she said she just wanted to do your laundry for you.

Well, people surprise you, apparently.

And it’s fair to say you are pretty fucking surprise as you look at the black lace lingerie set in front of you, with a little hope this helps you break your dryspell 😘 note on top of it — the icing on the fucking cake.

You almost want to laugh, the heat in your face becoming unbearable as you quickly reach for the lid to cover the gift up, trembling hands making a poor work to hide your embarrassment.

Forget changing universities. What about a different fucking country?

All moving plans are cleared from your mind when you hear your name. Said in a voice so deep you actually take a while to process it came from Taehyung, and a shiver runs down your spine when you halt your hands, leaving the box half open.

“I’m gonna ask you a question.” He starts, and he sounds so serious you’re suddenly scared of looking up. “I’m gonna ask you a question, and I need you to be as clear as possible, because that’s the only way I’ll understand.”

You gulp, bracing yourself for what’s to come when you nod.

“Why did you say my name?”

Your breath hitches on your throat, and you assume it’s because you expected anything but that question that you raise your head — regretting it immediately, because you don’t meet the familiar soft and kind eyes that you’ve grown accustomed to these past two days. Rather, in its place, you find a dark shade of desire burning through you, enhancing your every sense when he darts his tongue along the seam of his mouth.

“You do that a lot, you know.” You huff out a laugh. “Lick your lips. You have no idea how fucking hot it is.”

When he repeats your name this time, he sounds almost angry, and that prompts you to admit.

“I said your name because I want you to fuck me, Taehyung.”

He immediately shuts his eyes, and a deep exhale passes his lips before he opens them again. Every inquiry, every doubt has left his eyes when he unabashedly smirks.

“Then what about you try this on, princess. Let’s see if it fits.”

When you step back into the living room you can already feel the anticipation pooling at your brand new panties. You can't help feeling kinda uneasy, so exposed while he's still fully clothed, but when his eyes find your lace clad form, basically eating you whole, something about his shameless attention sends a boost of confidence through you, and you’re sure you’ve never felt sexier in your life.

“Holy shit.” It comes out so quietly that you can barely hear it.

His eyes explore every inch of your skin, and you honestly thought his eyes couldn’t get any darker, but a thick layer of lust makes them so deep you might just get lost on them.

“Come here.” He commands, and you immediately comply, cutting through the space between you and relishing in the soft touch of his hands as his arms snake around your waist, pressing your chest on his.

The fabric of his hoodie is smooth against your skin, his body exuding an intoxicating warmth, leaving you dizzy, sick to be touched as you drive your own hands up his torso and around his neck.

Taehyung, on the other hand, seems to be in no rush whatsoever. His palm is hot against your lower back, pressing you against him, molding you to his figure. With his left hand, he starts to trace your body, trying to commit every inch, every mole, every scar, every expense of skin to memory, starting at your hips, darting inwards to your stomach, grazing up your chest to barely touch the valley between your breasts before his fingertip trace up the column of your neck, finding a resting place around your jaw.

“Never want to forget this body.” His breath fans across your face, and your eyes flutter shut when he starts to lean in.

The way he kisses you now is vastly different from the kiss you shared last night.

Then, you two were messily trying to suffocate one another, tongues clashing together with little coordination as alcohol fueled your actions and clouded your judgment.

Now, the soft press of his mouth over yours is calculated. Sweet and deliberate, tasting you like your lips are sacred and taking his time to cherish the way your sensitive flesh feels on his. You have to gather all your self control not to bite him, not to take over, not to just groan out your frustration, and in no time you’re melting under his lead.

He gradually starts to speed up his movements, tilting your face to open your lips with his and slip his tongue inside to lick inside your mouth. Your breathing soon turns into panting as Taehyung acts become more intentional, kissing you as if his life depends on it.

You entangle your arms around his neck, pushing him closer to further deepen the kiss — and he matches your enthusiasm, lips moving relentlessly against yours, sucking on your tongue and pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, bruising the skin and making sure to swallow your every sound. His hand leaves your face to find your hips, grabbing and squeezing the flesh eagerly.

Fuck, he’s such a good kisser and you’re already so turned on, you wonder if you could cum just from making out with him.

God, that'd be embarrassing.

After what feels like hours — although you think you could keep kissing him for days — Taehyung pulls away. He rests his forehead against yours, recollecting his breath.

Can he feel your nipples hardening over the thin fabric of your bra? Because you can sure as fuck feel the agonizing press of his growing erection against your thigh.

He smirks.

“Can I mark you?”

“Yes, please.”

Your pleading voice seems to ignite something feral in him, because when he latches on to your jaw his kisses are nothing short of hungry. He drags his tongue along your cheek, before making sure his mouth acknowledges every spot of your throat, licking, sucking and biting all over your skin.

You can feel him smiling against your neck when your soft, quiet gasps turn into full on whimpers.

“Shit” you exhale, grabbing a handful of his hair and tugging on it.

The moan that he graces you with makes your eyes roll back in delight. A shiver runs down your spine at the way he shamelessly grinds your hips on his crotch.

He pulls away, hair completely tousled, golden skin darker as he admires the blossoming colors on your neck, painted by his skilled lips. His eyes fall to your panting chest next, and he takes his hand there, enveloping one of your tits and squeezing it not nearly hard enough.

“Fuck, this shit looks amazing on you, but I kinda wanna rip it with my teeth.”

“Don't you dare ruin it, I literally just got it.”

He quirks his eyebrow, and his hand leaves your tits, tracing down your belly and reaching to cup you over your panties. Your hips jolt with the contact and Taehyung chuckles, the cockiest smirk settling on his face.

“Think you’ve already ruined it.” He groans. “God, you're really fucking wet and I've barely done anything.”

“You're hard too. I've done even less.” Your teasing is that much less effective when his fingers are ghosting up and down your pussy.

Taehyung chuckles. His hand rises to the hem of your underwear, grazing the skin below it with tortuous patience, making you clutch his hair even harder. He's sure going bald by the end of this.

“You must be so fucking messy after this morning.” He hums to himself, and you nod. “Did you get to cum?”

“No.”

“Oh, you poor thing.” His hand thread down again, tracing your folds over the lace. “Do you want to cum, baby?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, Tae. Please.”

He clicks his tongue.

“Now, that’s just a shame.” He slightly slaps your pussy, making you jolt in his hold and then completely takes his hand away. “Because only good girls get to cum, princess, and you’ve been such a bad girl to me these past days, so damn mean. What makes you think you deserve a present?”

Jesus Christ, if this man doesn't let you cum you're gonna seriously kill him.

“No, I promise I can be a good girl for you, baby, please” he's about to say something else when you drop to your knees, effectively shutting him up. “Let me make it up for you. Show you how good I can be.”

You try to get closer to his legs, but the movements make you wince when your knees scratch against the hard floor. You look around for something to place below your legs, but Taehyung quickly catches on.

“Here” you lift your head just in time to see him pulling his hoodie above his head, revealing his long, toned torso, golden skin shining with a thin layer of sweat and just begging for you to lick and suck some marks up his stomach.

You're so entranced by his chest, that you take a second to understand he's giving you his clothing, and you don't give it much thought before placing it under your legs. The relief is immediate.

“Thanks.”

He doesn't answer when your hands spread over his strong thighs, creeping up his leg to his crotch. The hardness of his cock under your palm makes you lick your lips, and you squeeze him, eliciting a sigh out of him. You hook your hands on his waistband, not wasting another second before pulling both his sweatpants and underwear down his legs.

The sight of him almost makes you choke. He's big. So fucking big and thick, but also the prettiest fucking dick you've ever seen and the realization makes you just as frustrated as it makes you wetter. His tip is engorged, flushing dark as a bead of precum accumulates at the crown. God, what a fucking sight to behold. You admire it for a second, mouth watering as you anticipate its weight on your tongue.

“Look so damn beautiful like that, baby.” He praises, hand coming down to wrap around the base of his length. “Wanna suck me?”

“Yes.”

“Go on then.” He pumps himself. “Suck my cock like a good girl.”

You promptly open your mouth, sticking your tongue out and welcoming the weight of his member with a loud moan. You suck his slit, tasting the salty precum with a satisfied hum before licking up his length. You glisten him with your saliva before flicking your thumb over his tip, teasing him and making Taehyung gulp above you.

“You’re so big,” you whine, and he twitches “so fucking sensitive too.”

You alternate between long and short licks, soaking him and coaxing sweet hisses out of his mouth. Your fingers rub his crown, and you wrap your lips around it to give it a dainty suck.

“Look at me” you command, smiling when he does — a large, loving smile before you take his tip closer to your lips and let your spit fall on his cock, spreading it all over his length.

“Holy fuck” he shudders, a long elongated groan passing his parted lips “so fucking hot.”

Pride fills your face as you dive to kiss at his base, palm diligently working on his tip. After some minutes of thorough, but tame motions, Taehyung finally caves in, tone laced in exasperation. “Stop teasing, princess” you can feel your panties sticking to your pussy “do something already.”

“But I’m giving you so much already.” You pout.

“No, no—” his groan is nothing but frustrated “c’mon, don’t you wanna be good for me?”

“Ain’t this good?” You smirk, hand still leisurely stroking his now painfully hard cock.

“You’re so mean.”

“Really? Then I should just stop.” You pause your hand, and Taehyung’s hips jolt.

“Baby” his tone is a warning, and you know you’re playing a dangerous game here, one that’ll definitely bite you in the ass later, but fuck it. It's already so worth it just to see the way his thighs clench and his gaze burns through you.

“You want me to suck you?” You lick your lips slowly, directing his impatient eyes to your tongue.

“Yes, princess.”

“Then why don’t you beg for me, Tae? Ask me real nice and I’ll think about it.”

He chuckles.

Actually chuckles in a weird, choked way, but the ferocity that clouds his eyes only makes you that much more horny. And maybe it’s because he doesn’t fucking care, or — if the throabbing of his dick is anything to go by — maybe he’s just too hard to think properly, but when he opens his mouth again is to grant you the sweetest fucking words you’ve ever heard.

“Please, princess. Be a good girl for me and suck my cock. Make me proud.” You grin.

“With pleasure.”

And you do it, because god knows how much you want it too.

If your pace was teasing, insufficient before, now Taehyung feels on the verge of passing out with the way you sink his length inside the heat of your mouth. The second you take to adjust to the stretch is not nearly enough for him to adjust to the devastating pleasure that you elicit on him, and Taehyung just instantly knows he'll lose his mind when your head starts moving up and down his dick with finality.

“That’s it baby, so fucking good.” He growls, bewitched by the way his cock disappears inside your mouth, mind blanking when you start to hollow your cheeks.

Every little sigh, every breathy moan and especially his strained praises just spur you on, encouraging you to take more and more of him with each passing, relaxing your jaw to the best of your abilities. The noises filling the living room are anything but decent, but the vulgarity of it just makes it even more delicious.

“Sucking me so well” when you glance up, you can’t help but moan at how fucked out Taehyung looks. Mouth hanging open, eyes glazed with bliss while sweat collects on his forehead, dark hair sticking to his glowing skin as he swallows. You release him with a pop, a string of saliva still connecting you to his tip as you try to catch your breath — hands not stopping. Taehyung’s thumb finds your chin, and you lick your mouth clean “You’re sexy as fuck.”

You take two seconds to make a decision.

“Want you to cum in my throat.”

He looks at you as if you just punched him.

“You want my cum?”

“Want all you’re willing to give me.” And it's true. “Can you do that for me?”

“Fuck yes, baby. Wanna paint that sweet fucking throat of yours.”

You smile up to him, and when your attention returns to his cock you make sure to trace every inch, every vein with your tongue, making it as slippery as possible.

Taking a deep breath, you bring him to your lips again, letting your tongue lay flat under his length as you begin to push it further down your mouth. When he hits the back of your throat, you try to control your gagging and relax your jaw to better accommodate him — and also to not suffocate or something.

“You have no idea how hot you look right now.” But you kinda do, though, if the way he throbs inside you and his knees slightly tremble is any indication.

You start to slowly stretch your throat with him, and Taehyung’s overwhelmed expression is enough to make you deeply moan. His hips jolt at the vibration, making you choke.

“Shit, sorry” he backtracks, helping you recover before you’re guiding him inside again.

When your nose brushes the skin of his stomach, you know you’re not gonna be able to hold in for much longer, and you need him to cum soon, so you push through the discomfort, the tears and the way you just know your throat is gonna be sore as fuck after this, and swallow.

“Ju–just like that, that’s it” he stutters, “I'm close.”

You resume your bobbing movements, head relentless bouncing up and down his cock before you take your hands to his balls. He shudders when your light massage turns into a more thorough fondling and squeezing while you suck around him.

When you glance up at him — tear-filled eyes with nothing but lust looking up at his mesmerized ones with your mouth full of him — Taehyung’s body shudders. Shockwave after shockwave of pleasure erupts on his body, and you can feel the thick stripes of cum shooting down your throat while your lips suck on his tip, milking his high as much as you can — and he cums so much that you struggle to swallow it all. When he removes his cock from your mouth, sucked dry, he’s still jolting with sensitivity.

“Jesus fuck” he closes his eyes tightly, trying to ground himself. You clear your throat, licking around your mouth to collect any left juices. “You’re unreal.”

He grabs your chin.

“Let me see.” You open your mouth, tongue sticking out to show him no traces of his orgasm. “Such a good girl.”

He then grabs your forearms, pulling you to your feet.

Taehyung gives you no time to stabilize yourself before his lips are on yours, but it’s only after he secures your wobbling form in a tight, strong embrace that you’re able to kiss him back. Your fingers trace up and down his biceps with as much languidness as he makes out with you with. And it surprises you, because you can’t possibly taste good right now, but his lips are so soft that you don’t even protest, thankful for the unhurried touch.

When he breaks the kiss, it’s to pull you into a hug — full on giggling into your ear.

“Fucking thank you.”

You laugh.

“You thanking me for a blowjob?”

Neither of you care about how hoarse your voice sounds, but you clear your throat to try and soothe some of the roughness nevertheless.

“Hell yeah, your mouth is amazing. Feel like you just sucked me stupid.”

You laugh even harder.

“Nah, I feel like you were already pretty stupid before that.”

His chuckle tickles your ear, leaning his head so his lips touch your shoulder.

“Oh. You completely ruined my hoodie, by the way.”

“What?” You pull away from him in an instant. Gaze falling to his clothes on your feet — and the new wet patch that tinges the gray fabric darker. Your eyes widen in mild panic. “Shit, I'm so sorry, oh my god, I'll—”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, you should be sorry. How dare you get horny from sucking my dick, that's just unacceptable.” You pause, face still hot when Taehyung pulls you back to him, guiding his hands between your legs. The pad of his fingers ghost over your pussy, feeling all your arousal through the damp lace. “God, look at that.” He taunts, and his fingers rise to hook under the sides of your panties, pulling them up and pressing the fabric up your skin. He clicks his tongue. “This must be so uncomfortable.”

“Mhmm” you nod, tightening your grip on his arms.

“What do you say, baby? Think you deserve a present now?”

“Yes.” You sigh when he pulls your underwear even higher.

“No, no, baby. How do we say?”

“Pretty please?” You pout and he grins.

“Uhm, now that's better.”

And then he's kissing you again — but gone is the softness of his lips, now hungrily moving against yours. His hands find your ass, gripping and kneading you to his liking.

The way he shifts from shy-smiling-face-surrounded-by-hearts emoji to smirking-devil emoji is sure to make you lose your mind — and you can't fucking wait.

As you two stumble to your room, you make sure to not leave any inch of his golden skin unattended: bruising up his neck like he did yours, tugging on his hair and running your palms all over his body. Taehyung guides you past your threshold, handling you with care until the back of your knees hits the bed. He hurries you on top of it, promptly falling above you.

“You're so hot” he breathes, lips following the path between your breasts, “the hottest girl I’ve even fucking seen.” He sounds almost angry.

You’re panting as he kisses down your stomach, body squirming in anticipation — gasping when he hoists you closer to the headboard.

“Damn, princess, you’re so desperate.” He chuckles, sucking a hickey onto your hips. “Pussy must be begging for some good fucking.”

“Yes,” you sigh “want you so fucking bad.”

His smirk is devilish, lips hovering down your skin until they're just above your aching core. You raise your hips, trying to get closer to his face, but he easily avoids you.

“Tae,” you whine. “Please.”

“You wanna cum, baby?” You nod eagerly, and he shakes his head, slapping the side of your thigh. “Words.”

“Yes! Fuck, I wan— I need to cum.”

“Good.” And just like that, he is gone, sitting back on his heels.

You grunt.

“Taehyung, I'm not above murder, you should know.”

He laughs, hands coming down to your ankles and pushing them apart. His eyes are immediately drawn to your pussy — or, rather, to your arousal soaking through your panties.

“You're so wet, baby. Feel like you can cum just if I look at you nice enough.”

“Taehyung” you glare, but your voice is too shaky to hold any power against him.

“I want you to show me.” He says, and the instant confusion on your face prompts a sheepish smile on his own. “How.” He clarifies, massaging your calves. “Want you to finish what you started this morning.”

The prospect of teaching him how to please you makes you warm all over, and if you weren't so distressed you might deny it, ask for his tongue or his fingers — but you are desperate, and no one can make you cum faster than yourself. So your hands jump to the sides of your panties, already pushing them down when Taehyung’s hands stop you.

“Want them on.”

“Kinky” you tease, earning a dramatic eye roll.

You hook a finger around the center of the fabric and push it aside.

Taehyung’s gaze grows darker when you expose your bare pussy, and he slowly licks his lips. His feasting eyes are entranced by the way your arousal drips down your folds, slicking you all the way down to your ass. He swallows thickly, hands pushing your legs further apart.

You don’t give him enough time to bask at the sight, though, because your fingers find your entrance immediately after, spreading your juices around before coming up to circle your clit.

The well-deserved, but so fucking delayed attention making your his jolt. Not wasting any second, you hurriedly roll your fingers, closing your eyes to focus on your precise, familiar movements.

After feeling lubricated enough, you sink two fingers inside your cunt and curl them to stroke your g-spot. Loud, wet squelching sounds fill the room, but you can still hear Taehyung’s ragged breathing above you; his soft grunts encouraging you as you keep fingering yourself, whispering sweet nothings to you. He tells you how pretty you look, how good you are for him, how hot you look when you’re knuckles deep inside your dripping pussy. You take your free hand to your tits, pushing them out of their confinements to twist and pinch your nipples.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby, look at that” his voice is thick with lust, “such a filthy girl.”

His words tighten the knot in your stomach.

“I–I bet I’ll take your cock so well.”

“Yeah? Fuck, I can’t wait to stretch you, princess.” When you open his eyes, you almost cum just from Taehyung’s all-consuming gaze alone, completely hypnotized by the way your fingers disappear inside your cunt.

“My thighs,” it comes out so quietly that you force yourself to speak again, “grab my thighs.”

Taehyung takes a second to process your words, but then his hands are on you. Massaging, gripping, pinching and squeezing the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs with such enthusiasm that will surely leave bruises there too. The added stimulation makes you arch your spine off the bed, eyes rolling back as you can feel more arousal soaking through your fingers.

“Shit, you’re so fucking sexy. Gonna make me all hard again.” He moans, and his movements pause for a split second before he asks: “are you close, baby?”

Your legs start to tremble, and every hit to your g-spot makes you whimper.

“Yeah” you breathe, barely registering his words at this point.

“Look at me.” He commands, and you do. “You wanna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes.”

“Wanna make me proud?”

“Yes!” You scream, tears blurring your vision — but his next words make your whole body stiffen.

“Then stop.”

You don’t. You can’t. But your fingers do lose momentum.

“What?”

“Stop.” And a slow smirk creeps up his face as yours scrunches up in hazed confusion. “You’re not cumming until I want you to.”

When you fully realize what he’s asking you, your orgasm has already been washed far out of reach. You shudder as your fingers leave your pussy, the tears collected from the pleasure roll down as frustration, but when you open your mouth to complain, Taehyung slots himself between your parted legs. His hair tickles your thighs as he pushes your underwear aside and suddenly licks up your cunt, tongue gathering all the arousal from your folds before his lips close around your clit, sucking hard.

The unexpected stimulation makes your hips jut, shuddering so violently that Taehyung pulls away, chuckling lightly as confusion coats his expression.

“Did you just cum?”

“No!” You whine. “I just… I want to cum so bad, I was so, so goddamn close and now I’m just sensitive as fuck.”

He gives your clit an experimental kiss and you grunt, hands fisting the sheets.

“Shit” he smiles, “that’s just too bad.”

Your head snaps up.

“What… what you mean?”

“You teased the shit out of me before, sweetheart. I’m still deciding if I’ll let you cum.”

“Taehyung,” you sob, “if I don’t cum soon I think I’ll legitimately die.”

“Poor thing.” He mocks.

“I’m so serious right now, please don’t do that.”

Another kiss to your swollen pussy.

“Then fucking beg, princess.”

Well, that you can do.

“Baby, please” you sigh “please, I’m so sorry for teasing you, just–just please make me cum. Let me cum, please.”

He chuckles.

“As you wish.”

He swiftly pulls your damp panties down your legs, tossing it on the floor behind him, and then his warm tongue meets your pussy again. This time, though, you swear Taehyung is trying to fucking suffocate himself on you. He flicks your clit the same way your fingers did, skillfully twisting it and eating you out with devotion — and you sure feel worshiped. Worshiped by the way he moans, enjoying it as much as you; by the way he swirls his tongue around your clit and licks your dripping juices; but also by the way he grabs your thighs, long fingers massaging and digging on the flesh.

The stimulation is so hard and you’re so pent up, that it doesn’t take longer than five minutes of him thoroughly eating your pussy for you to start to feel your orgasm slowly building up on your body again.

“That’s it, Tae, fu–fuck” you cry out “eating me out so good, just like that.”

You’re basically grinding on his face now, and he flattens his tongue to encourage you to ride him as you please.

“Taste so fucking sweet” he hums. “Should’ve had this for Christmas dinner.”

Your chuckle is shaken when Taehyung plunges one of his fingers inside your walls, stroking you gradually to stretch you up.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He mutters. “Do you want my cock?” You nod, biting down on your lip. He doesn’t appreciate it, humming against you. “Tell me.”

“I–I want… want your cock.”

“Wanna give it to you, baby, but I’ll need you to relax for me. Let me stretch you.”

And you certainly try, but you feel so tense, so desperate to cum that you can’t seem to find your breath.

“That’s–that’s your fucking fault!” You hiss when he finally starts to thrust his fingers faster. “Edging the— nghh, fuck outta me.”

He smiles against your pussy, but says nothing when he slowly introduces a second finger. His movements are precise, careful not to hurt you but determined as he scissors you open, slowing down for you to adjust every time you flinch or so much as goes silent above him. He also changes the pace of his mouth to try and help loosen you up, and holy fuck, you don’t think you have the capacity of imagining such sweet, toe-curling oral, not even in your filthiest, most unrealistic dreams.

When he works you up to three fingers, Taehyung has to pin you down with his free hand to stop you from lifting your hips.

“Shit! Feels so–so fucking good” you whimper.

“Grab my hair.” And you do, hand releasing the sheets to push his sweaty locks away from his view, and the intensity of his eyes on yours almost makes you feel more naked somehow.

“Jesus fu— nghh”.

Taehyung now fingers you at a relentless pace, and the skill with which he does it — angling his fingers to hit your g-spot, reaching for different sensitive areas and making your walls clench around him — is almost overwhelming.

Your legs quiver, threatening to close around his face.

“Close?”

You’re kinda scared to answer, but it’s not like you can hide it anyway.

“I’m so close! Please, Tae, let me–let me cum!”

The pleasure running through your body is so intense you feel like you could actually pass out if he denies yet another orgasm, and he can surely feel your anguish as you start to chase his face, chuckling lightly before finally saying the sweet words, “Then cum for me, princess. Cum all over my face.”

The orgasm that he coaxes out of you is maddening. Your mind blanks as your pussy clamps down hard on his fingers — which continue to thrust into, prolonging your pleasure. Your whole body shudders, toes curling with everlasting bliss, but you are surprisingly able to keep your eyes open. The sight of him, between your legs, eating you out through your high and making sure to collect every bit of your sweet release on his warm tongue is almost enough to make you cum again.

When you finally come down, refamiliarizing yourself with the whole concept of breathing, Taehyung is looking at you as if you’re sin incarnated, a loose smile on his lips. You feel so spent, but suddenly so impatient too.

“Want you to fuck me.” It’s the first thing you say after your head stops spinning.

He laughs.

“Barely took my fingers out and you’re already asking for more, damn.” He peppers your thighs with soft, soothing kisses. “Pussy so fucking greedy.”

“I want you so bad.” Your voice is so small, so quiet. You swallow dry.

“I want you to, baby.” He comes up to kiss you, sliding his tongue against yours in such a sloppy, lazy way that you can’t help but smile, ignoring the taste of your cum lingering on his mouth. “You made me so hard again, fuck.”

Taehyung grabs your thighs and hooks them around his waist. He takes his fingers to your pussy again, smearing some of your release around to better slicken you up. After deeming you lubricated enough, he guides his dick to your cunt. He drags his tip along your dripping folds, and your breath hitches.

“Fuck, you’re soaking my cock.” He grins. “Who got you this wet, baby?”

“Taehyung,” you sigh, heels pressing down on his lower back, “don’t you dare tease me again.”

“Then answer the question.” He rolls his hips harder over yours, rubbing your clit. “‘Cus I can be pretty fucking patient.”

“Fuck you.”

“I let you cum one time and you’re already talking back again.” He clicks his tongue. “One more chance, baby. Who got this pussy so… fucking… wet?” He punctuates every word with a slap of his cock against your cunt, and you gasp each time, digging your fingers on his back.

“Ungh, fuck, yo–you! Shit, you did, Tae.”

“I made you cum so fucking hard, didn’t I?” He smirks, and your hips jump slightly.

“The hardest” you whimper.

Taehyung’s so fucking glad you gave in this fast — because there’s only so much time he could endure teasing you while being desperate as fuck to feel the warmth of your cunt, to feel you wrapping around his cock the way you did around his fingers. With a deep exhale, he shifts to position his dick at your entrance.

“How do you want it?”

“Rough.” You don’t hesitate.

“Rough? Want me to be rough with you, princess?” Taehyung feels dizzy.

“Yes, please.”

“Yeah? Wanna be fucked like a slut?”

The shiver that runs through your body could’ve been enough of an answer, but you still grant him a breathy confirmation: “Yes, Tae. Want you to fuck me dumb.”

His eyes flutter shut, and, with his last thread of sanity, Taehyung starts to slowly press his dick inside of you.

He is right. You are soaked. But he’s still the biggest cock you’ve ever had. So, despite his attentive fingering and the insane orgasm he just gave you, your face still translates your discomfort as he stretches you up. Taehyung follows your cues, stopping whenever you wince and shallowly thrusting to ease you to his size, letting you adjust before moving deeper.

When his hips finally — finally — are flush against yours, you both exhale shakily.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He digs his fingers in the flesh of your thigh. “You good? Does it hurt?”

“No… just,” you exhale deeply, “gimme a second.”

While you focus on accommodating his size, Taehyung clears his throat.

“I uh, wanted to ask you something.” You notice the subtle distress in his voice, and the gaze you find when you open your eyes is filled with concern. “And be real with me.” You frown, expression slowly matching his.

“... yeah?”

He hesitates, eyes darting away from you.

“Are you… like, actually into furry?”

You burst into laughter, shoulders shaking when you bring your hands to cover your face. Taehyung’s chuckles are unsure when he joins you, flinching when your body trembles slightly.

“Be honest!”

“Fuck you, Tae, honestly. You’re balls deep inside of me seriously asking me this shit.”

“I mean, I can’t grow a beard for my life, but we can figure something out if—”

“Oh god, stop! I do not have a furry kink, Jesus.”

“Thank god!” He sighs. “Was really worried for a second.” Your laughter prompts a smile on his face, and he lowers his face to give you a quick peck on your lips.

“You can move now, by the way.”

“You sure?” You nod, pulling him closer.

“Let’s get on to fucking.”

He frowns.

“Damn, you gotta work on your dirty talk.”

“What? You were just talking about furry.”

“It’s different.” He huffs. “I’ll give you one more chance.”

You roll your eyes.

“Go on, baby, rock my world.”

He chuckles.

“C’mon, that’s not doing anything for me here.”

At that comment, you shift and clench around his cock. His hips buck, reaching even deeper. You pout.

“You seem pretty hard for me.” You hiss when he smacks the side of your thigh.

“You’re such a brat.”

“Just fuck me already.” You brows knit together, and you flicker your eyes down to where your bodies meet, licking your lips. “Please, Tae.”

“You see? That’s way better.”

And fuck you he does.

When Taehyung pushes himself out of you, leaving just the tip, you barely have time to breathe before he’s slamming back inside.

The feeling of his skin dragging against your velvet walls has your mind immediately blanking, head falling back on the pillow.

The ease with which he finds a pace makes you melt under him. You’re already so sensitive from your previous orgasm and all his stupid teasing that you just know this will set a pathetic low time record, but you don’t fucking care. You deserve to feel this fucking good, and Taehyung seems to know that too, because despite the struggle it is to keep his eyes open — the desire to shut them and focus on the delicious feeling of your warm pussy squeezing his cock almost unbearable — his gaze is still trained in your face. In the way you bite your lip, or release it in a silent moan when he gets the angle just right; the way your brows knit together in bliss, or arch to your hairline with a particular hard thrust; or, yet, in the way your hold on him turns almost painful, sure to leave him bruised in the sweetest possible way, whenever he leans over you and brushes your clit.

Taehyung is a slow learner — but he learns, and he won’t close his fucking eyes until he identifies how to unwind you, how to fuck you so good he’ll ruin every other dick for you. And he seems to find it when, after a swift change in his angle, you let out a loud, tortuous scream under him, sending a large, proud smirk to his face.

“That’s it–that’s— nghh, fuck, baby, there!” You cry out, lifting your hips off the bed to try and create even more contact as his cock hits your g-spot.

“You feel so good” feral grunts spill from his mouth as he lets his eyes fall shut, “squeezing my cock so fucking tight” he groans.

Taehyung has never felt more grounded, more present. The slapping sounds, your cries, his grunts, everything is so fucking vulgar. The way the soft flesh of your thighs mold under his palm, the way he fills you to the brim every fucking time is good enough proof that this is real, that this breathtaking pleasure is real, and that Taehyung is really fucking you.

“Been… wanting to–to fuck you for so long.” He pants.

You arch your spine off the bed, chest pressing on his.

“Holy fuck.”

“God, can’t believe this is happening.” He growls.

Your senses, on the other hand, are clouded by the feeling of his cock splitting you, fucking your body senseless and pounding into you like a man on a mission. His size, his girth, the way he twitches inside of you, making your walls even sloppier… he’ll be the end of you. You never wanted to please someone more, especially after having his mouth on you, and you can feel your control gradually slipping away every time he fills you up, reality a distant idea as he fucks you closer to euphoria. And god, you’re so fucking close.

“Yes! Yes, baby, that–that’s it” you sob, hands fisting the sheets so tightly that — if you were thinking properly — you'd be afraid of ripping it.

“God, you're… nghhn— fuck, you feel so good.” He gasps. “Are you close?”

“So fucking close.” You barely acknowledge the words leaving you, the knot in your stomach about to snap.

At your words, Taehyung’s hand leaves your thighs to reach behind your back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall somewhere in the room. He leans over you, mouth immediately closing around your left nipple, while his large fingers twist and roll the right one. You arch into his touch, sighing when his tongue swirls around your nipple.

“The most perfect tits…” he hums, glazing your chest in his spit as he seeks the other with wet kisses.

“Tae” you moan, hands entangling in his hair and pulling hard, prompting him to give your nipple a light, barely there bite, but it’s enough to make your hips shake under him. “Fuck, I’m… I’m gonna cum.”

“Yes, baby, cum for me. Cream my cock like a good girl.” He moans, words slurred as he lifts his gaze to you.

Your body starts to shudder violently as he pushes another orgasm out of you. Your legs quiver around his waist and your pussy clenches tightly, shoving a deep, guttural groan from Taehyung’s throat while your mind spirals, washing away any thoughts as his name falls lazily from your lips.

It takes a solid minute before you start to think again, body still rocking with his thrusts as he keeps chasing his own release high. You wince at the overstimulation.

“Tae” you whine, fingers digging into his back.

“C’mon, baby, ain’t this what you wanted?” He slows his pace before grabbing your legs and placing them on his shoulder, thighs firmly pressing on his chest. He sinks his cock deep inside of you with each snap of his hips, and you’re immediately gasping for air. “Didn’t you wanna be fucked like a slut?”

“Nghh” god, how is he so fucking good at this.

“You wanted to be fucked dumb. Wasn't it?” You eagerly nod, words evading you. “Then give me one more.” He breathes. “Let me see that pretty face again.”

Taehyung’s not slow, nor gentle this time. Your previous orgasms make his strokes that much easier, more delicious. Loud wet, squelching sounds fall from where your bodies meet.

“Fuuuck— pussy so fucking good.” His praise shoots straight to your core.

As naturally as before, he falls into a rhythm, slamming inside of you. Your head falls back on the pillow, dazed as the position makes him feel even girthier, bigger inside your sensitive walls, rendering you completely unable to form a single thought that isn’t his dick pistoning inside. The new angle allows him to reach even deeper, and you can feel every inch of him throbbing inside of you, grazing your g-spot in a way that has you gasping for air.

The slapping sounds of his skin on yours are sinful, and you take your hands to your tits, slicked with his spit, fondling with them to add to the ever growing bliss.

He wants to keep saying shit, spill the filthiest fucking stuff just the way he notices that makes you wetter around his cock — but the closer he gets, less can he think properly, his filter completely dissolving.

“Wanna fuck you forever. Watch you cum for days.”

And fuck if that isn’t enticing as fuck for you too.

Your legs get a bit sore from their bent position, but you wouldn’t mind having him fold you half if it meant getting to see Taehyung’s brows knitting together, lips falling apart in silent delight.

“So-so… good… fucking me so good.” Your voice is muffled by the hard banging of the headboard against the wall.

“Shit. I’m close.” You nod. “Where do you want me to—”

“Inside” you interrupt, answer spilling from your lips.

He brokenly moans, mind blanking as his resolve quickly slips away. Thrusting impossibly harder, pouding impossibly faster, Taehyung fucks you eager to fullfil your request.

You already feel ready to cum again, an odd pressure weighing down on your lower belly. Your mouth falls open, whispering, or rather, mumbling sweet nothings or muddled filth to him — unsure if he's even listening — as pleasure clouds your mind to the point of incoherence.

“Taking me so fucking well, pussy made for my cock.”

Taehyung takes his hand down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit with ease as he starts to rub it, pressing and circling it with the pad of his fingers as a hard, unannounced orgasm crashes over you. You’re unable to keep still when every nerve of your body jolts with electricity, overstimulation making you lift your back from the bed as a loud scream rips through your throat.

The pleasure that overtakes you blanks your mind, and for a second you feel like you can't stop cumming. Taehyung sounds so distant, and you feel so high, so heavenly, that you almost think you're dreaming the whole thing.

“— all over me.” Is the first thing you hear when your mind starts to clear and your body slowly calms down.

“Huh?”

You wince as Taehyung keeps fucking into you, pace now careless as he gets close to release, and you tighten your gasp on his arms, fighting through the oversensitivity.

“You just fucking squirted all over me.” You blink at his words, taking a full minute to process them before your head is snapping up in alarm.

Everything is so wet, so sloppy and messy, but before you can say anything — before embarrassment can even reach your skin — Taehyung's body is shaking above you.

“Shit, shit, shit—” He shudders. “I’m cumming.”

His groans are deep as you feel his hot release painting your walls. He digs his fingers into the flesh of your waist, hips jolting with the waves of his pleasure as he squeezes his eyes shut to focus on the overwhelming thrill running through his body. He feels so alight, as if he's just been set on fire, and every inch of him burns with bliss.

“Jesus fuck.”

A lazy smile spreads on your face when he kisses your calves, gently pushing them to rest on the bed. He crashes on top of you, frantic breathing cooling the sweaty skin of your chest.

“I've also…” you gulp, closing your eyes, “also been wanting this for so long, by the way.”

You feel him smiling against your skin.

“Damn. I’m so happy I might just puke.”

Your body shakes in laughter.

“God, you’re so annoying.” You pinch his side and he squirms, chuckling before tilting his head to face you.

“I kinda get the Jungkook now, though.” You frown, and he opens a large, boxy smile. “I fucking love Soojin. Best gift ever.”

You giggle, heat creeping up your neck.

“Ugh, get off me.” You push him away, and Taehyung shifts on the bed, hovering over you.

He pulls his softening cock out of your swollen pussy, and you can see his eyes glimmering before his fingers are spreading your folds apart.

“Shit” he hisses, and you can feel the wet mix of his cum and your own release dripping down your folds. Taehyung doesn’t give you any warning before he’s diving down, licking you clean with a swipe of his tongue and making you shudder. He closes his eyes, humming as he swallows everything. After that, he moves to step out of bed, uttering a quick “hold up” before he’s out of the room.

You can hear some cabinets and drawers opening before he’s back, a towel in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He proceeds to clean you up with the softest, more tender touches possible, mindful of your sensitivity and halting his movements whenever you flinch, while you soothe your raspy throat.

“You might need to sleep with me tonight.” You frown. “You made such a fucking mess. Sheets are ruined.”

You scoff.

“And who’s fault is that?”

He smirks.

“Sorry I fucked you so good.” You giggle, covering your face when you feel your cheeks warming up.

“So annoying.”

Jungkook loves Taehyung. They’ve been friends for ten years now and — although there have been days — Jungkook would never change anything about his friend.

…

Maybe make him a bit less murderous in the kitchen. But besides? Taehyung is perfect.

…

Okay, maybe not perfect. No one is perfect, and Taehyung did tell a younger, inexperienced and quite stupid Jungkook that girls get hot when you touch the back of their knees. Not to mention that time when Taehyung dragged Jungkook to a regency costume party — a ridiculous one at that: how is a vampire not a historical costume? He was fucking hot with those red lenses, putting Robert Pattinson to shame with that glitter body spray.

Anyway, the point is: he loves and cherishes Taehyung, especially the sweet fucking body lotions this guy uses (fuck, he smells good). And he knows Taehyung too. He knows Taehyung better than anyone in the world, probably better than Taehyung himself. And that’s why he knows, the second Soojin confesses what she got you for Christmas, that Taehyung isn’t gonna deal well with it.

“For the last time, babe,” Soojin explains, “a woman should never be ashamed of wanting to feel sexy. You men keep making us feel vulgar about our sexual lives, and create all this taboo about our bodies. No wonder why we hate ourselves. In fact, did you know that—”

“Soojin,” Jungkook sighs, pulling their bags out of the uber’s trunk, “I’m just saying that maybe, maybe, you could’ve given her a heads up not to open the gift with Taehyung… they’re probably super awkward already and a fucking lingerie set won’t help.”

Soojin huffs.

“You have no faith in Taehyung.” Jungkook stops in the pathway to the chalet door, giving his girlfriend a pointed look.

“I know Taehyung, it’s different. This will either make him super self conscious about how he fucking vomited on her, or make him wanna swallow his fist because of how horny he’ll get. Either way he’ll malfunction.” Jungkook pauses. “Fucking is also an option.”

She pouts.

“But didn’t he say that they were cool?”

“Fucking is cool, but he could’ve also meant that he’s been locked in his room for three days.” Jungkook’s face twists in concern. “We’re lucky if he even got out to eat.”

“We’re lucky if they didn’t cook anything. The last thing we need is them food poisoning one another.”

“Not to worry. Taehyung knows the treatment by heart now.”

They reach the door, and Soojin grabs the keys in her purse. They’re careful as they step inside, mindful of it barely being past six in the morning, but any attempt at silence is futile when Soojin’s attention is drawn to the living room couch.

“The fuck?!” She screams, scaring Jungkook to drop down the bags.

The sharp sound makes you jump away from Taehyung’s lap, losing your balance and falling ass first on the hard floor.

The four of you freeze for a moment, sharing weird, confused looks before Taehyung’s heart finally resumes to a normal pace and he understands that no, the house isn’t being invaded and you two won’t get robbed in nothing but underwear, he can’t help but glare at his best friend.

“Jungkook why the fuck are you here?” He says, extending a hand to help you on the couch after you find your discarded shirt on the floor.

“Wow, nice to see you too, asshole.” Jungkook’s eyes flicker to the TV when music starts to play through its speakers, a deep frown settleting on his features. “You watching Grinch? The hell?”

Soojin turns to her boyfriend.

“Is Grinch really the most unexpected thing here?”

“Tae, did she force you to watch Grinch?” He narrows his eyes. “You know this ain’t good for you. You won’t be able to sleep.”

Taehyung groans.

“Jungkook, shut up.”

You quickly put on your pajama top, tugging it as further down as you can.

You open an awkward smile.

“Thanks for the gift, Soojin! We— uhm, I really loved it.”

note ↠ sooo, what do we think? 🥹 i hope y’all liked it! it took sO LONG to upload this omg, tumblr just wasn’t vibbing with our himbo!tae 😔 but it's here! i actually had to learn some quick html codes to edit this lol, i'm so stressed

note² ↠ all form of feedback is deeply appreciated!

note³ ↠ thank you so so very much for reading it 🥹

note⁴ ↠ you can go back to navigation here

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waynes-multiverse · 1 month

Text

Plastic Hearts – Part 22

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, injuries, hospitals, jealousy, drug use, angst, smoking everywhere 'cause it's the 80s, girl fights, a whole lot of FLUFF

Word Count: 6.9k

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all your comments last week! So happy to bring these two idiots back to your screens of choice and give them an ending they deserve! Now, buckle up! We have some bitchy moments in this one 👀😇

<< 21 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

22. Girls, Girls, Girls

The gym smells of blood, sweat, and tears tonight. More so than ever before. The tensions run high.

It’s the first live taping since the show’s official cancellation. The first three matches have already run their course, the rest of the women joining Dean in his office, using the platform as the perfect viewing room. It’s like an NFL suite at Super Bowl. Everyone’s drinking, celebrating, and has gathered here to watch the biggest match of the night:

Red Sparrow vs. Liberty Bell

Usually, the green-eyed director would be bothered by the constant chatting, shrieking, and yapping. But tonight, he could care less as he passed the director’s crown on to his spawn, leaving Claire to man the booth and direct the show on her own, putting her AV skills to the test.

After all, the show’s already canceled. What’s the worst that could happen? Might as well let a rebellious teenager call the shots. Who gives a shit! Isn’t it awesome to be this carefree?

“Can you guys keep it down?” Claire hisses with an annoyed roll of her eyes, her shoulders tense with stress as she tries to concentrate on the monitors. “I’m trying to direct a show here! I can’t fucking hear anything!”

Amused, Dean chuckles. Now, his daughter finally knows what it’s like to be in his shoes. He’s tried telling everyone for ages that these women are fucking annoying and that being a director ain’t easy.

While the women are busy talking up a storm and pay attention to the match, Dean sneaks to his desk and opens the first drawer. He pulls out his pack of cigarettes, but it’s not a smoke he’s in the mood for. To his surprise and shock, however, the little bag of white powder he hides in there is gone.

Did he put it somewhere else?

Frantically, he starts opening every drawer, moving stuff in and out of them. He rummages through his folders on his desk, sees if he placed it there somewhere, but it’s nowhere to be found. His green eyes then dart to his kid and an eerie feeling settles in his stomach. Surely, Claire didn’t take it, right?

Like father, like daughter, it echoes through his mind.

He always loved the fact that his kid was so much like him – the love for good movies, the humor, the sass, the sheer unabashed talent. But not in that regard. God, does he hope she didn’t inherit his drug addiction, too.

“Claire?” Dean knows he has to be careful in his questioning, not wanting to alert the other women in the room to the pressing issue. But his daughter skillfully ignores him, too focused on her current task. “CLAIRE?!” he barks loud enough to rattle the entire office.

Yeah, okay, that wasn’t as smooth and inconspicuous as he had hoped, but he’s fucking panicking on the inside, alright? He has entered worried dad mode.

Don’t act so fucking surprised, okay? He has evolved like man is supposed to do.

In all honesty, Dean wanted to get completely clean two weeks ago. As soon as Y/N waltzed into his office and slept with him, he swore he’d never touch the toxic and nasty stuff again. He was done, and this time, it’d be final. No going backsies. But he had one teeny-tiny baggy left, and well, he hates to be wasteful. So, his plan was to slowly stop and keep the withdrawals at a minimum. And it worked great so far. It hasn’t snowed in four fucking days.

“What?!” his kid grunts back, audaciously annoyed.

“Did you snoop through my drawers and take my smokes out?” Dean asks her in his best dad voice. He’s gotten quite good at it since he practiced it over the last few weeks.

Do your homework!

Eat your vegetables!

Tell that fucking boyfriend of yours to stop sneaking in through the window, or I’ll get my gun!

“No, I don’t smoke!” Claire huffs without missing a beat and doesn’t take her eyes off the monitors even once.

Dean believes her. Usually, when she lies, there are a few seconds of thinking that pass by before she comes up with a reasonable excuse. Not that he buys any of them, but whatever. This time, though, she answered right away, and he knows she has no idea what he’s even talking about.

So, did he misplace it? You’d think he’d be more careful with drug storage, but sometimes it’s a glass of whiskey too many, and stuff gets lost. Did he leave it in the car? Is it at home?

But then it dawns on him. Joanna.

The blonde storms into his office, forcing the director to look up. Her mascara is smeared across her cheeks, her hair disheveled and overall she seems upset and out of breath.

“I need my own goddamn dressing room,” Barbie demands. “I can’t get ready and in the right head space with all of these women down there. I’m the star of the show. Some of us need peace and quiet to wash the shit of the world from us before they have to fucking perform!”

“Whoa, whoa, easy, alright? Sit down,” Dean tells her calmly and gestures to the seat in front of him, where the blonde immediately plops down with an exhausted huff. “You can get ready in my office tonight, okay? You want a drink? You look like you need one.”

Jo nods with a sniffle and accepts the flask he’s offering her, almost downing the whole thing.

“What’s going on? You good?” Dean checks. Usually, he wouldn’t care about the blonde’s feelings, but since she’s up against Y/N tonight, he wants to assure himself nothing goes wrong.

“Yeah, it’s just… Sam.” She scoffs and takes another swig. “He’s got a new girlfriend. His secretary, Jessica.” The blonde rolls her eyes at the name. “Who knows how long he’s been fucking her. Our divorce isn’t even final.”

Dean nods understandingly as he rises from his chair and pats the blonde’s shoulder. “I know. Divorce is shitty. You’ll get through this. Trust me.”

“Shit…” Dean mumbles.

He left an emotionally vulnerable woman alone in his office with a bunch of booze and drugs. How could he be this stupid and reckless? He doesn’t even suspect Jo took the coke on purpose. She was probably looking for a smoke and stumbled upon it, thinking, “What the hell? My day is already shit, maybe this makes it better.”

Dean knows because it’s usually what he thinks as well when he’s at his lowest. How do you think he got addicted to drugs in the first place, huh?

Here’s how: two divorces and a failing career.

“Boss?”

“Dean?!”

“Dad!”

The green-eyed director snaps out of his thoughts and turns to the room full of women upon their calling, all of them looking quite panicked and worried. It’s like a fox got loose in the coop.

His brow furrows as he approaches the booth and big windows, trying to see where the concern is coming from. “What? What’s going on?”

“I think there’s something wrong, boss,” Donna informs him. “That’s not the fight they’ve practiced during training. They’re going off script.”

Fucking shit…

“Dean, what the hell is going on?” Billie cocks an eyebrow at the director, but he can’t get himself to focus or reply as his green eyes are glued to the match downstairs.

Dean’s too cynical to believe in a God and has certainly never prayed before, but tonight he can’t help it and utter a quiet prayer, hoping for a goddamn miracle.

His heart is racing as he watches the match unfold. There’s nothing he can do about it. Nothing can stop it. It’s like watching a fucking car crash as a bystander on the sidewalk.

Looking at Y/N’s face, he can see that she’s panicking as well and getting scared. It breaks his goddamn heart. The actress tries to talk to the blonde and get through to her but to no avail. Killer Barbie is on a mission, and her target is clearly Y/N.

And then, it all happens fast. Jo throws Y/N onto the mat and grabs her leg, raising it up by the ankle. There are tears in Y/N’s eyes before an audible crack echoes through the gym. Y/N screams out in pain. Jo drops her foot and backs away in shock, hands high in the air. The entire gym becomes mum, only a few quiet gasps uttered by the audience bounce off the tall walls.

Dean’s heart is about to explode as he bolts down the stairs and almost takes a fall. He hasn’t even reached the ring yet and assessed the damage, but he already blames himself. This is all his fucking fault. Donna warned him, and he didn’t listen. Y/N was obviously not fine, and neither was Jo. How many goddamn warning signs did he choose to ignore? And for what? For fucking ratings no one even cares about?

Y/N’s agonizing scream rings in his ears as the director makes his way to her. Rufus is already there in his referee costume, trying to help her as best as he can. Dean’s so close he can practically count the steps to the ring. Has this gym always been this huge? It feels like he’s been running a mile.

But then, he’s abruptly stopped by Cas’ announcer voice and what his green eyes find unfolding in front of him.

“And here comes a camera guy to save our Russian warrior!”

Oh hell, no!

Dean should probably be glad that someone is helping her and not let his jealousy win. But does that someone really have to be fucking Benny of all people? The green-eyed director truly thought he was done worrying about that guy. Now, however, he has to watch that douchebag heroically carry Y/N out of the ring while the audience cheers and claps.

It’s his worst goddamn nightmare. Well, that and Y/N getting hurt in the first place.

“Put her down,” Dean demands fiercely as he faces Benny, his blood boiling as he watches the actress hold on to the guy’s neck and wince in pain. A bit of guilt mixes with his jealousy at that.

Don’t be an asshole. Focus, he reminds himself. Y/N’s more important than your fucking ego.

“What? No,” Benny denies his request with a confused and irritated frown.

“That’s an order,” Dean grits boldly.

“I don’t care. She’s hurt,” Benny snaps back with emphasis and acts like Dean doesn’t know what that means. “Fucking fire me if you have a problem with that. The show’s done anyways.”

That fucking little prick…

Dean purses his lips in frustration. What is he supposed to do now? Rip her from the guy’s arms? Start a fist fight?

“I can take her. I’ll drive her to a hospital,” the director insists with a little more reasoning.

“Let’s take my limo! There’s enough space for her,” Ruby chimes in as the whole pack of women flock to the rescue and worryingly gather around Y/N.

Great. More helping hands is what Dean needs right now.

“No, we’re taking my car,” Dean maintains, trying to remain calm amongst the concerned chatter. “Baby’s backseat got plenty of space, alright?”

“True,” Bela agrees with a dirty smirk.

Dean sighs, Billie rolls her eyes, and Y/N frowns at that. Dear God, these fucking women…

“How about we ask Y/N what she wants, huh?” Dean proposes, knowing the actress will surely pick him. God knows she’s picked him yesterday all night long…

Benny smiles as if he could win this battle. “Fine.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, what d’you want? Who do you wanna go with, huh?” Dean asks, lowering himself down to her with a gentle look in his eyes and a warm, caring smile.

“I don’t care!” Y/N whines with pained features and a high level of annoyance. “I just wanna go to a hospital! Any hospital in any car.”

Fair enough, Dean thinks dejectedly. Still, she could’ve done him a favor and picked him. He hates losing to a fucking camera operator.

“My limo it is!” Ruby exclaims and bolts ahead to the parking lot, keys jiggling in the air.

With a triumphant smirk, Benny turns and follows Valley girl outside, Dean swallowing down the urge to punch the guy as Y/N throws him an apologetic look over camera guy’s shoulder.

These fucking women…

Dean has floored the gas pedal of the Impala, but it’s fucking LA, so an hour was spent standing in traffic on the freeway. Moreover, he had to gather Claire and Cas as well and check on Jo, while Benny and the girls were already at the hospital with Y/N.

When Dean finally arrives, he rushes through the glass doors into the waiting area of the emergency room, Cas and Claire on his heels. His group is easy to spot, considering they’re all still in their fucking wrestling costumes.

His hands ball into fists when he sees Benny holding an ice pack to her injured ankle as she sits in a wheelchair, the girls scattered around Y/N on creaky hospital seats as they keep her company. He hates that camera guy is taking care of his girl. It should be him by her side, not some fucking footnote in this story.

“Hey, what the fuck is going on? Why is she still waiting?” Dean asks furiously, charging in full-throttle. His heart is burning for Y/N, and nothing can extinguish it.

Hell, if she isn’t getting help soon, he’ll burn this goddamn hospital down.

“Because she’s not a gunshot wound?” Ruby answers wryly, earning her glare.

But Dean supposes party girl has a point. It’s an LA hospital in a bad neighborhood.

“Want me to lick your wound? Saliva helps with blood clotting,” Meg offers as she holds Y/N’s hand tightly.

“She’s not even bleeding,” Cassie counters with a raised brow.

“She might be bleeding internally,” Meg argues and places her palm on Y/N’s forehead, taking her temperature.

“Stop it! You’re freaking her out,” Charlie scolds from the seat behind her.

“Why is this taking so long? My friend is in pain! Do you hear me?” Meg whines, calling to the nurses’ station.

Why are girls so exhausting? That question has been running around Dean’s mind for months now. He’s still lacking an answer.

Ignoring the female turmoil around him, Dean lowers himself down in front of Y/N and finds her eyes, smiling gently. “Hey, sweetheart. How are you doing, huh?”

“Dean!” Y/N smiles broadly when she recognizes him, her face lighting up and beaming brighter than the fluorescent lights above her. It warms his heart.

The director’s head then tilts slightly, inspecting her closer. She seems awfully chipper for someone in pain. Her pupils are gigantic, too.

Ruby leans in and whispers, “I gave her a Valium… and then half a Klonopin.”

Ah. There it is. She’s fucking high. That explains it.

Dean reaches out his hand and caresses her pink cheek, feeling her lean into his touch. “You feeling good, sweetheart?”

“I’m awesome,” she replies with a drowsy giggle.

He grins. “Yeah, I bet you are…”

Is it weird he’d like to fuck her in this state? Right, probably not a good time to ask those questions. (But he swears he wouldn’t take advantage of her. Just play with her and test her senses a little.)

“You’re so pretty,” Y/N tells him dreamily, making him blush hard as she touches a few strands of his hair and plays with them.

“And the first pill is kicking in,” Ruby notes, amused.

A nurse then finally walks into the waiting room with a tired gleam in her eyes and clears her throat to catch everyone’s attention. Dean can’t blame her. He knows it’s like a fucking circus in here.

“Good news. We have a bed ready, so I’ll take her back and all of you can leave?” the nurse explains and looks at the wolf pack hopefully.

Meg stares her dead in the eyes and replies flatly, “Not a chance.”

Yeah, Dean could’ve told that nurse those girls weren’t going anywhere.

Benny rises from his position and attempts to push Y/N’s wheelchair, following the nurse. But Dean will be damned if he lets him. Provocatively, he pushes the camera guy aside and scowls at him, making his territory and claim clear. The girls aren’t the only wolves in this waiting room.

“I got her. You can leave,” Dean growls with a deathly stare. “My show, my actress. I’m the director, and she’s my fucking responsibility, got it?”

Benny raises his palms in surrender and takes a step back. He already knew he lost when Y/N only had eyes for Dean as soon as the director showed up. A pill-high never lies.

The nurse helps Y/N into a bed in a small, quiet room. As they wait for a doctor, Dean impatiently paces the room, fuming away on his smoke. If you can’t tell, he’s far away from relaxed.

A man in a white coat with a friendly smile then finally strolls in and introduces himself. “Hello there, Y/N Y/L/N. I’m Dr. Gabriel Piccolo. Are you with the circus?”

Dr. Sexy, as Dean refers to the guy, lifts an eyebrow at Y/N’s unusual costume. You’d think as a doctor at a hospital in Hollywood, he’d see more people like this.

“I’m an actress on a wrestling TV show,” Y/N replies, not offended by his question in the slightest.

“Oh, uhm, I’ll have to watch it,” Dr. Sexy says politely and then gets straight down to business, cocking his head at her injured leg. “Okay, so left ankle. We’re gonna have to cut off this boot.”

“Oh! No, no, no. Sorry, these are important.” Y/N protectively throws herself over her knee-high army boot.

Dean sighs a little. Even high on pills and in unbearable pain, Y/N still prioritizes her silly job. “Alright, Doc. I got it,” the director relents and shoots the man a look.

Carefully, Dean unties her laces, loosening the shoe enough. “I’m gonna go slow, sweetheart. Just take it easy, alright?”

Dean flashes her a smirk and watches as she bites down on her lower lip, nodding. She inhales sharply and whimpers when he slips the boot off her foot. His fingers smooth over her leg, soothe the skin, and elicit a shudder from her. He can tell the action turned her on, can see the goosebumps rise on her arms as she presses her thighs together. He can practically hear her drip.

He smirks devilishly. Y/N sends him a knowing frown.

Dr. Sexy clears his throat and interrupts their heated moment, causing Y/N’s cheeks to flush furiously.

The doctor then assesses her ankle. It’s swollen and the skin a purplish-blue. Dean knows it doesn’t fucking look good. He guesses it’s not a simple sprain.

“Can you feel your toes? Can you wiggle them?” the doc checks. Y/N does as asked and moves her toes as best as she can. It’s not much though before she winces in pain. “How does that feel?”

Dr. Sexy touches the swell on her ankle, and Y/N squeezes her eyes shut and locks her jaw, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Fucking hurts,” she grits through strained teeth.

“Okay, we’re gonna take some X-rays. See what we’ve got,” the doc finally says and disappears out of the room.

Y/N exhales an exhaustive breath and looks at the director. “Distract me,” she prompts with desperate eyes.

“Well, I’m not gonna be my regular chipper self,” Dean quips, making her laugh. He smiles, too, and leans in closer. “How about this?”

He wiggles his eyebrows and then dips his head, claiming her lips in a blistering kiss that makes her legs quiver. His tongue slips inside her mouth, swipes deep as teeth scrape her lower lip. Upon her first moan, he draws back with a smug smile.

He leans close to her ear, whispering against her shell, “You know if curling your toes didn’t hurt, I’d make you come so fast on my fingers right now, baby girl.”

Her eyes widen. She gasps and gently hits his arm in a scolding manner. “Dean!”

“What?” He chuckles and pecks her crown. “It’ll be alright. Don’t worry so much, okay?”

The girls then soon flood the room, one by one providing endless entertainment that surely no other patient at this hospital receives. Y/N’s a fucking star here, although she always is to Dean.

First, there was Claire, who practically emptied the vending machine, buying sweets and snacks for every taste (with Dean’s money). He’s nothing more than a wallet to that girl.

Meg, on the other hand, stole more pillows and blankets from other patients, making sure Y/N was as comfortable as possible. Ruby read Cosmopolitan to her and filled out the magazine’s sex quiz, intriguing Dean a lot.

Every girl pretty much brought their unique sense of entertainment, making Y/N laugh and smile so much she almost forgot why she was here. Only one woman was missing from the wolf pack – Joanna.

As Y/N is finally wheeled away to her X-rays, Dean decides to join the other women in the waiting room. He’s more than happy to discover that Benny actually left when he can’t catch sight of the guy anymore.

Guess the director is the true winner, after all.

Donna then approaches Cas, who’s nervously sucking on a cigarette in the corner by the vending machine, and hands him a clipboard with a hospital form.

“Y/N doesn’t have insurance, and we don’t know what to fill out,” the blonde tells him and meekly saunters back to her seat.

Cas frowns and looks at the women in disbelief. “How could she not have insurance? She’s a professional wrestler.”

Billie arches a sarcastic eyebrow at that and replies wryly, “Yeah, employed by Novak Productions, who doesn’t provide health care.”

Cas swallows guiltily and purses his lips. “How many of you don’t have insurance?”

Almost every woman in the room raises their hand, except for Jo, Billie, and party girl.

That tracks, Dean thinks and is not the least bit surprised. Judging by Cas’ shocked expression, though, this revelation clearly shatters the privileged rich boy’s world.

The producer nods earnestly. “This is my responsibility, and I will take care of it,” he promises. Dean gives him a pat on the back, letting Cas know he’s doing the right thing. If the producer hadn’t footed Y/N’s bill, Dean surely would have.

The director then glances around the waiting area, noticing the sad faces and depressed mood. “Alright, she’s not dying, okay?” he tells them and catches their attention. “You guys did a great show tonight. Why don’t you go back to the motel?”

“Great?” Donna cocks a brow at his word choice. “We were amazing.”

Charlie looks up at him, a hopeful look in her eyes as her red hair shimmers in the fluorescent light. “You think we get our old time slot back, Dean?”

Dean smacks his lips, scratching the scruff on his chin. He then shakes his head. He can’t lie to them. Knowing what he knows, he also knows it’s over. “No, I don’t. I think we’re gonna die at 2am… But we’ll die on our own terms, alright?”

Nodding, Ruby sighs loudly. “I’ll drive everybody home. And then, we get drunk while we ice our knees.”

As the girls start to gather their belongings and rise from their seats, Jo rushes through the glass doors. The women punish her with little glares on their way out. No one buys it was an innocent accident. In fact, Dean’s pretty sure the wolf pack believes the blonde tried to murder their beloved leader.

Dean, however, doesn’t.

“She’s in room 3,” he tells Jo without further comment.

The green-eyed director didn’t know what he had expected when he sent Joanna into Y/N’s room. Maybe that they’d talk like adults, get it all out in the open, and finally make amends. Be best friends again.

But maybe that was a little naive of him.

It all started out innocently. Dr. Sexy entered the room with a set of X-rays and left happily a few minutes later. Meanwhile, Dean and Cas smoked in the hospital’s corridor and drank the most awful-tasting coffee out of plastic cups.

Then, the mood started to shift. The guys could hear the girls arguing with slightly raised voices, just loud enough for it to drown out into the hallway.

“Eight to ten weeks? It’s not that long,” Jo could be heard saying.

“It’s the rest of the season. I won’t be on the show,” Y/N threw in through gritted teeth. Dean could hear the upset in her voice.

Jo scoffed, brushing it off. “Well, we’re getting canceled anyways, so… It’s just a job, you know.”

“No, it’s not!” Y/N’s voice went up a notch in volume. Dean knew she was close to reaching a boiling point. This wasn’t good.

“Okay, geez, you don’t have to lash out at me. I did not mean to break your ankle, okay?” Jo countered, pushing all blame off her.

“I don’t fucking believe you!”

And that was the turning point. That’s when the yelling started. The one that could be heard throughout the hospital, spilling into every room and probably several floors.

“No, no, no…. See, that was an accident, Y/N,” Jo says with a jittery voice. “Unlike the time you accidentally fucked my husband! TWICE!”

“You made out with my prom date on prom night!”

“That is not the same thing, and you know it!”

“Oh? Is it the same thing when you hooked up with your co-star at your stupid soap wrap party one week before you got married? And coincidentally, Sammy was born nine months later! Is he even Sam’s? ‘Cause he looks a whole lot like what‘s-his-face!”

“How dare you!”

“You didn’t even love Sam! You only married him for his money!”

“You don’t have the fucking right to say anything about my marriage!”

Cas swallows down a big gulp of coffee, sharing a nervously concerned look with Dean. “Should we, you know, go in there?”

Dean’s eyes widen as he vividly shakes his head. “Fuck no! Are you nuts? We stay right here. Look, men are simple. They throw a few punches and then share a drink. And women… Well, women do fucking this. Bottle everything up, even for years sometimes, till it fucking explodes. Trust me, they need this. Let ‘em get it outta their system.”

Fucking women…

“Oh, do I have the right to talk about your power complex?” Y/N yells. “Or do I have to schedule a meeting with all the producers?”

“I’ve earned my title!”

“Right, your fucking work ethic is legendary! I’m so sick and tired of apologizing about Sam! I don’t care anymore! I have eaten shit for months! I have done everything I can think of to make this right!”

“You can’t make it right!”

“Great! Then I’ll stop trying!”

“Fine!”

“Yeah, fine like you telling me I should get raped to save our show! The show you don’t give a shit about!”

“God, you’re so melodramatic! I just figured you’re already screwing our director for attention, what’s one more network executive!”

Cas blinks at Dean with wide eyes and a raised brow. “Are you-… Are you and Y/N dating?”

Dean averts his eyes to the blue wall opposite him and wordlessly sips his coffee. He has a feeling the girls’ fight is about to take a turn, going into a direction he doesn’t particularly care for. Why can’t they just leave him out of it?

Cas, however, takes Dean’s silence as what it is – an admission. The producer’s face lights up with joy. He excitedly rubs Dean’s shoulder and gasps giddily. “That’s so great! You haven’t dated anyone since Amara! I’m so happy for you! I love Y/N! Are you guys getting married? Did you buy a ring? Can I be best man? You know what they say, third time’s the charm!”

Dean scowls at the producer and heaves a deep sigh. “Calm the fuck down, would you? No one’s getting married.”

“Go to hell! I’m not fucking Dean, okay?” Y/N denies Jo’s accusation loudly.

Dean thinks she’s a hell of an actress. If he didn’t know for a fact that he was balls-deep inside her last night, he would’ve bought that little lie.

“Oh please! It’s so obvious!” Jo counters. Dean can practically hear the exhaustive eye roll that followed. “He’s following you around the gym like a lovesick puppy!”

That’s what Dean was afraid of. He does not like where this conversation is headed.

“He is not! Shut the fuck up!”

“Are you really trying to fucking lie to me, right now? I’ve known you since middle school!” Jo snaps. “And he certainly fits your glorious dating choices! Drug addiction? Check! Asshole? Check! Commitment issues? Check! He’s perfect for you. I’m surprised your slutty ass didn’t jump him the first day!”

“Oh, fuck you, you fucking bitch!”

“Slut!”

“Whore!”

Then, more yelling, more accusations, and more tears follow before Jo storms out of the room and bolts past the boys down the hallway.

Fucking girls…

“I’ve never felt so guilty about anything,” Cas mumbles next to him, completely distraught and shaken.

Dean scoffs. “Geez, you’ve lived a charmed life.”

“Thought I was gonna have a wrestling show, and no one was gonna get injured?” Cas shakes his head at his own nonsense. “What the fuck is wrong with me? I destroyed our little family! I mean, Y/N is a gimp.”

The director rolls his eyes and sighs. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She’ll go on to have a full life, okay?”

Somehow that causes Cas to smile cheekily. He nudges the director’s shoulder. “With you?”

Dean sends him a thundering glare and dumps his burning cigarette bud into the producer’s coffee cup as he walks past him and returns to Y/N’s room.

Dean sat quietly next to Y/N as a nurse put a cast on her leg. The ankle, much like the women’s friendship, was broken, and the actress was out of commission for the foreseeable future. She hadn’t spoken a word yet, only sniffling and crying silently to herself. Dean left her alone and only handed her a tissue every now and then, figuring she needed some time to calm down and think. But he still wanted her to know he was there in case she needed him.

As the nurse finally leaves, Dean reaches out his hand and takes hers, drawing comforting circles on the back of it. Patiently, he waits till she’s ready to look at him.

“Well, I won’t be needing these anymore,” Y/N mutters with a pout and dumps her army boots on the little bedside table. “You should give them to Claire. She’d make a great replacement Red Sparrow.”

Dean purses his lips. It takes a lot out of him not to roll his eyes at her dramatization. He supposes that’s what he gets for falling in love with a goddamn actress – fucking theater no less. But he knows she’s really going through it right now, so he’s willing to cut her some slack.

“Relax, I’m not giving your part away,” he assures her with an easy smile.

“Well, you have to, if you want to keep the storyline moving forward,” she mumbles grumpily.

“Who cares? It’s just a TV show,” Dean argues.

However, that particular line seems to anger her. “Everyone keeps saying that. It’s not to me,” she contends and finds his eyes, her teary-eyed and desperate look boring into him. “I have people now. People who come with me to the ER. People who care if I’m hurt.”

Dean nods his head in understanding. He knows Cas and Y/N are essentially right, as much as it hurts him to admit it. They are a little family – a weird and incredibly dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just the easiest thing to say, you know?” he says and lets out a sigh. He rests his palm on her thigh and squeezes reassuringly. “How’s this? I don’t wanna make this show without you. I’m not gonna make this show without you.”

Y/N sucks in her lips, forming a tight line as she stares at her hands in her lap. “I thought we were all replaceable.”

Dean’s lips twitch with a smile. He lifts her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Well, you’re not, sweetheart.”

He leans closer and kisses her ardently till her toes curl. When she hisses slightly in pain, he pulls back, both of them chuckling.

Then, Dean swallows the heavy lump in his throat. He knows he has to come clean, literally and figuratively. He takes her hand in his again. This time for his own comfort.

“Listen, uhm, tonight was kinda my fault… on some level, at least,” the director starts.

Y/N’s brow creases, but she brushes it off with a disbelieving snort. “Why? Did you tell Jo to break my ankle?”

Dean chuckles lightly, although he doesn’t feel like laughing, considering he’s scared to death she’ll dump him in a few seconds once she hears the truth. “No, uhm, but she might’ve found something in my office that caused a lack of judgment on her part. I-, uhm, I might not have been as clean and drug-free as you believed me to be.”

“Oh. I see…” Y/N bites her lower lip and averts her gaze back to her hands, her fingers fumbling in a nonsensical pattern like a nervous tic. And then, she doesn’t say anything for serval minutes, while Dean slowly feels himself go crazy.

“So, uh, where do we stand? Are we mad? Disappointed? Disgusted? Sad?” Dean pries and pokes for an answer.

“I guess, uhm, disappointed,” she says finally. Dean sighs internally as his heart tightens. He had hoped it wouldn’t be that one. It’s the worst one. “And sad,” she adds.

Strike that. This is the worst one.

“Okay, uhm, good,” he replies before noticing her cocked brow at his answer. “I mean, not good-good, obviously. Just good to know where we are… So, where are we? Is this-, you know, is it over? Between us?”

Y/N glances at him slightly and takes a thoughtful breath. “No,” she says, and his heart rejoices with relief. “I kinda already knew you’re not perfect.”

Dean’s brow furrows momentarily before he smirks cockily. “Agree to disagree.”

Y/N tries to hide a smile at his joke. She’s unsuccessful in her endeavor. She squeezes his hand in reassurance. “It’s not your fault. It was still Jo’s choice,” she tells him. “Are you, you know, still…?”

Dean vehemently shakes his head. “No, no, I’m not. I haven’t for a couple of days, and I won’t anymore. I promise. Especially after tonight. I learned my lesson. I’m done with it. For good.”

“Okay,” she accepts.

Dean frowns a little because her forgiveness feels too easy, but he doesn’t get a chance to prod some more, her soft lips on his shutting him up for now. The kiss is fervent and sweet all the same. It makes his head spin and provides him with a completely different high – a much better one.

“Well, looks like we’re gonna have to get creative with this thing, huh?” Dean grins smugly and gently pats her cast.

Y/N throws him a raised look that borders on amusement. Of course, all he ever thinks about is sex. But she doesn’t mind a little sexy goofiness in her life right now and leans in for another kiss. He is a pretty fantastic kisser, after all.

“I got markers!” Cas hops cheerily into the room with a few pens held high in the air, watching the two of them quickly pull apart with red-tinted cheeks. The producer smiles adoringly at them. “You guys! Look at you! This is so exciting!”

“Oh, uh–”

Dean sees the panic spread on Y/N’s face and quickly swoops in, sending Cas a friendly but threatening look. “Hey, uh, buddy? Keep this between us, alright?”

“You got it! My lips are sealed.” Cas winks and locks his lips with his fingers, but his excitement isn’t even close to disappearing. “And I paid your bill, by the way!”

“Oh, Cas, you didn’t have to do that,” Y/N tells him sweetly and seems clearly flattered by his care.

“Yes, I did, ‘cause you couldn’t possibly afford it,” Cas says bluntly and uncaps a marker, signing his name on her cast. “And I felt so guilty.”

A knock on the door makes the three look up and watch Jo hesitantly amble inside, her head lowered in resignation and guilty admission. She holds up a duffel bag with a nervous smile.

“I thought you might wanna leave the hospital with pants on, so I brought you your favorite sweats from the motel,” she says and hands Y/N the peace offering. Y/N accepts it with a small smile. Jo then glances awkwardly at Dean and Cas. “As you may have heard, Y/N and I got into a big fight,” she explains the general tension in the room.

Dean nods curtly. “Oh, yeah, everybody heard.”

“Yeah, the cashier at the gift shop couldn’t stop talking about it.” Cas chuckles, causing Y/N and Jo to blush in embarrassment.

“So, what’s the plan, Dean?” Y/N looks expectantly up at him like he’s an oracle with all the answers.

Lucky for her, though, he’s cocky enough to provide them.

“You know what? We got four episodes left, right? Fuck it. No one’s watching. No one cares. Y/N can’t even walk. So I say we do whatever the hell we want,” the director suggests and grins broadly. “Let’s just set the weirdos free and see what the fuck happens.”

“I hope you guys have fun,” Y/N mutters with a hint of bitterness in her voice.

“Oh, you’re not getting out of it,” Dean interjects her pouting and self-pity. “You’re like a one-woman idea machine. I need you. Where we’re going, you don’t need legs.”

Jo smiles encouragingly at her and sits down on the edge of the bed as Cas hands her a marker. The two women then chat as if nothing ever happened, while the producer and the director share a confused look over the sudden ceasefire. But they take it as what it is – a gift from above.

Girls…

“Hey, uh, there’s something I need to do,” Dean says then. “Are you guys okay here to keep Y/N some company? I’ll pick you up right after.”

The three of them nod, and Dean feels confident enough to leave Y/N’s side. After all the emotional turmoil and chaos over the last week, the director direly needs an appropriate outlet.

The Impala pulls into the parking lot of H-ELLTV in Anaheim. It’s early in the morning, the sun barely up but still powerful enough that the beams sting his green eyes. Maybe it’s also the lack of sleep that causes it to hurt more.

Drugs aren’t an option. It’s too early to drink, even for him. And sex would’ve been possible, but he doesn’t want to be the ass that asks for it while his not-girlfriend is suffering in the hospital.

So, here he stands, next to Dicksuck Roman’s spot, where a beautiful dark blue Aston Martin V8 is parked.

Ever since Y/N told him what that creep tried to do, Dean’s been raking his brain with different revenge fantasies. Sure, he could cut off the guy’s dick and make him eat it, or cook his balls over a BBQ grill, or chop his head off and dunk it in acidic cleaning supplies. But Dean knows the only way to truly hurt a man is through his car.

The green-eyed director then pops open Baby’s trunk and hauls out a golf club. It was a gift from Cas that came with an invitation to hit the green in Pasadena for “networking purposes.” As if. Cas eventually accepted that Dean would rather kill himself before setting foot in that country club. (He might’ve also threatened to kill everyone else in it, which scared Cas enough to drop it.)

Dean’s heart soars high to the cloudless sky above as he administers the first few blows, shattering the front window and thoroughly denting the scratch-free and glistening hood.

Not anymore, Dean thinks with sinister joy.

He stops mid-swing, though, when Crowley walks by. The two men look at each other for a moment. Will the manager call the cops? Will Cas have to post bail on top of paying hospital bills?

But Crowley only bobs his head in acknowledgment. “He pisses off a lot of people,” he offers as an explanation and strolls ahead into the building, not paying Dean any more mind.

So, Dean continues hitting and swinging and batting until his lungs burn and his arms hurt. Only then does he drive back to the hospital across town to pick up his friends with a lightener heart.

23. Every Breath you Take

*sighs blissfully* Aah, some sweet fluff before all the drama starts... (And yes, I consider this chapter less drama and lots of fluff. That's how far we've come 😂)

Let me know how you've enjoyed this part! Are we rid of Benny for good? Is Y/N going to break Dean's plastic heart? 👀

TAGS:

Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444 @syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity

#plastic hearts #dean winchester #director!dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester reader insert #director!dean winchester x actress!reader #dean winchester series #actor au #dean winchester au #supernatural #supernatural reader insert #supernatural au #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x y/n

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