#✘ — maybe you’re the same as me. they say the truth will set you free. ( ship / ragefeathers. ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fluentmoviequoter · 2 months

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Yell at Me and Tell Me You Love Me

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: You distance yourself from Tim because you think he is still in love with Isabel. When he confronts you about why you've been avoiding him, you accidentally tell him the truth.

Warnings: angst to fluff, argument, friends to lovers, the timeline of Tim and Isabel's relationship is probably off but I needed to make everything fit

Word Count: 3.0k+ words

A/N: The first title I typed was "Yell at Me, Tell Me You Love Me, But Don't Push Me Away" and I'd just like to say (a very sarcastic) you're welcome for shortening it. (Unless you like the original, then I'm sorry.)

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

You met Tim Bradford less than a week after he left the Army and quickly became one of his closest friends. Despite the secret kisses shared without thought, holding each other tightly for no reason, and falling asleep in each other’s arms, you continue to be just friends with Tim Bradford. Being part of his life for so long means you’ve seen more than most. You were at Tim and Isabel’s wedding, gave him a place to stay after the divorce, and you fell in love with him without even trying.

Since his divorce from Isabel, you’ve shared a few more thoughtless kisses, said “I love you” before ending phone calls, and slept in the same bed simply for comfort on more than one occasion. You know you need to stop, however, because Tim is still attached to Isabel, as far as you can tell. She calls occasionally, and he rushes to answer the phone, leaving you like an afterthought as the woman he truly loves becomes available again. You’re unwilling to be a rebound or a distraction while Tim works on his relationship with Isabel, but you can’t decide how to set a boundary you don’t want.

It's nearly midnight, and you can’t sleep with thoughts of Tim running through your head. As you consider the idea of simply giving him space, letting him know that you both have things you need to deal with before you can be his friend again, your phone rings. Tim’s name and face light up your dark room and life before you answer.

“Hey,” you greet.

“Hi. I- did I wake you up?” Tim asks.

“No, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither. Are you okay?”

When Tim asks that question, you realize that the only thing you want from or for Tim is for him to be happy. Alone, in the dark, you acknowledge that the only way for him to be happy is if you are willing to move out of the way of what he really wants. If you step away and give him room to work out his feelings toward Isabel, maybe he can find what he wants and focus entirely on that.

Tim says your name, and you rush to say, “Yeah, I’m fine, just- just thinking.”

“You want me to come over?” he offers.

“No,” you answer quickly – too quickly. “It’s late, and I’m really fine. Are you?”

Tim sighs before answering, “I guess. Isabel called today to tell me she’s going back to rehab. She wants me to come by once a week, act as part of her support plan.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“I enabled Isabel for so many years that I don’t know.”

“You’ll do the right thing, Tim. You always do.”

A memory of last week, when Tim kissed you during a walk on the beach, flashes through your mind. Was that the right thing?

“Or you have too much faith in me,” he argues.

“I think I have just the right amount of faith in you.”

“It’s your turn to pick dinner on Friday.”

You see an opening to pull back and tighten your grip on your phone as you ask, “Actually, can we skip this week? I’m swamped and don’t know if I’ll be able to make it. I’d hate to leave you waiting.”

Tim hesitates before agreeing, “Sure. Just let me know when you’re free. We can do whatever you want.”

“I will,” you reply softly. “I’m getting tired now, though, so goodnight, Tim. And good luck with Isabel and your decision.”

“Yeah, thanks. Goodnight.”

You bite your tongue to keep from saying I love you one last time, and as you set your phone down, actively pulling away from your best friend, you want to call him back and ask if you ever had a chance. Instead, you press your face into your pillow and force yourself to think about other things as you fall asleep.

✯✯✯✯✯

You sit in bed and stare at your phone as your finger hovers over the star beside Tim’s contact. When you remove him from your favorites list, everything will begin to feel real. Just as you lower your finger, your phone buzzes with a text from Tim. Three simple words make your heart pound as you read them.

Call me, please.

You want more information before you decide to call him or not. Distancing yourself will be hard enough without Tim vying for your attention the entire time you pull away. Clicking the star so it disappears, you make the first step in separating your life from Tim Bradford’s.

“Please be the right choice,” you whisper, staring at his contact photo. “I just want you to be happy. Happier than I could make you.”

An hour later, your phone rings, and you send Tim to voicemail. If it is an emergency, he’ll leave a voicemail. With each unanswered call and text, the time between them lengthens. Maybe Tim has already realized you weren’t as important to him as you both seemed to think.

By the end of the first day not talking to Tim, you want to scream and cry simultaneously. It’s hard to lose a friend, but harder to lose the one person you love. Reminding yourself constantly that you’re doing it for Tim and his happiness, you don’t give yourself time to think about how much your decision and the distance are hurting you. You knew Tim would hurt for a while before finding his way back to Isabel, but you weren’t expecting to feel like a piece of your heart had been ripped out. That’s what you get for giving it to Tim without telling him, you suppose.

✯✯✯✯✯

After a sleepless night of tossing and turning, someone knocks on your door as the sun rises over Los Angeles. You roll out of bed and pull a sweatshirt over your head before looking through the peephole. Tim stands on the other side of the door and speaks before you can think about pretending to be gone.

“I know you’re here,” Tim calls. “I don’t have a lot of time, just wanted to check on you before work.”

After you open the door, you look out at him and give him a closed-lip smile. He looks at you like he can see straight through you, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could.

“We made a huge arrest last night and a couple of us are going out tonight to celebrate,” he says instead. “Do you want to come out with us?”

“Uh, no, but thanks for the offer. I’ve got a lot going on right now, and-“

“Like what?”

You tilt your head to the side, wondering what he means.

“What’s got you so busy that you can’t even text me back?”

“I- I don’t want to talk about it right now, Tim,” you say, opting to deflect rather than lie. “But congratulations on the arrest and have fun tonight.”

Tim’s jaw tightens as he nods. You watch as he walks away, wishing you could run after him. As you close your door, you decide that slowly pulling back will not work; if you want to give Tim room to find his way back to Isabel, you must leave him.

Pushing your fist against the closed door, you take a deep breath before walking through your place and gathering everything that reminds you of Tim. After placing it in a box, you shove it into your closet. Next, you turn off the notifications in your phone, so you won’t be tempted to answer when he calls or texts. The hurt of losing Tim worsens with each action as you pull yourself further away from him.

“Please be happy,” you beg as you close the door on your box of memories.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’re grumpier than usual,” Nolan notices. “I mean- sorry,” he adds quickly.

“Timothy,” Angela calls. “A word?”

“No,” Tim replies.

“Bradford, now.”

Tim rolls his eyes as he stands and walks to her desk. She gestures for him to sit, and while he should feel like a kid in the principal’s office, he feels more like a man being told his wife is divorcing him and having to maintain a brave face even as his heart shatters in his chest.

“What do you want, Lopez?” he asks. “No small talk.”

“I wouldn’t dream of trying with you, Timothy. I want to know what’s up with you and why you’re taking it out on everyone here.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“You’re making it our business by pushing your frustration, or whatever it is you’re dealing with, off onto us. Is it Isabel? I heard she’s back in rehab.”

“No,” Tim answers, scoffing as he leans back. “It’s not Isabel.”

“Is there any chance that part of you still cares about her, and even if you’re lying to me and yourself about it, Isabel still affects you?” Angela asks.

“No, Lopez. I can guarantee that this has nothing to do with Isabel. She asked me to visit her as part of her support plan and I told her I would think about it, but the ‘source of my frustration’ hasn’t even let me do that.”

“Timothy, just tell me what’s bothering you and maybe I can help,” she offers quietly.

Tim stands as he replies, “You can’t. The only one who can help me with this is avoiding me.”

Angela’s brows furrow as she wonders who he could be referring to. Tim is adamant this isn’t about Isabel, but Angela can’t think of anyone else with this level of pull over him.

“Let me know if you change your mind and want to talk, Tim.”

“Will do,” he answers, though he and Angela know it’s a lie.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Isabel!” Tim calls, jogging to catch up to her. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she replies, hugging him quickly. “I thought you were going to call my sponsor with your decision.”

“I was, and I did. But I also wanted to let you know, in person, that I can’t be part of your support plan. At least, not right now, not after everything I did over the last few years.”

Isabel nods as she guesses, “You feel partially responsible and don’t want to risk letting me fall back into my old ways. I get it, Tim, but thanks for considering it.”

Tim nods, and Isabel can tell something is bothering him.

“You want to stay? Talk for a bit?” she asks.

“I can’t. I’ve got a work thing,” he replies. “Thank you, though, and good luck with everything. I’ll be back by when I have some time.”

“Tim,” Isabel interjects, wrapping her hand around his forearm. “I recognize that look. I only saw it once, and it didn’t turn out well for me. Whatever it is you want to say to whoever it is, just say it.”

“I don’t know how,” Tim admits.

“My take: if she’s important enough to affect you like this, you’ll find a way to let her know what you’re feeling.”

“What if she doesn’t care, Isabel?”

“I can’t tell you what to do, Tim, but I can tell you that waiting too long doesn’t make things any easier… I have to go, I’ve got a group meeting, but, Tim, what’s worth the risk: saying something or keeping it quiet until it’s too late?”

Tim nods before he waves as Isabel turns toward another building. Tim texts Nolan that won't be at the celebratory gathering while he walks to his truck. He knows where he needs to go but doesn’t know how to deal with everything once he gets there. Hopefully, seeing you will give him the right words to say.

✯✯✯✯✯

You broke your heart trying to let Tim be happy and keep yourself from getting hurt in the fallout of losing him. Your house seems bare, every picture and memory of Tim tucked away in a failed attempt to keep your mind off him. A knock draws you out of your miserable reverie. Whoever it is knocks again when you leave it unanswered, the sound harsher and louder than the first time.

“Coming!” you call.

You open the door without thinking and are surprised to see Tim standing on the other side.

“Can I come in?” he asks in response to your stunned silence.

Say no, your mind says, but your heart makes you step back and invite him inside again. Pushing him away the second time will be much worse, but you can’t seem to stay away from Tim.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Tim says.

He leans against your kitchen counter with his arms crossed, waiting for an explanation you don’t want to give. The whole point of making room for him and Isabel to reconcile (like he wants) was for Tim to figure it out himself.

“Ready for what?” you ask defensively.

Tim shakes his head and scoffs as he tightens his arms over his chest. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? After everything we’ve been through together, you really expect to avoid me without an explanation or question?”

“Everything we’ve been through?” you repeat incredulously. “We’re friends, Tim. Friends stop hanging out when one of them gets busy.”

“Oh, now we’re friends? Were we friends when you crawled into my bed three weeks ago, or when we were making out on the beach? Because that didn’t feel very friendly,” he snaps.

“No, we weren’t friends; I was just a woman who made a mistake,” you reply.

“Am I your friend or am I a mistake?” Tim demands. “Because you can’t seem to keep your story straight. It’s a simple question: why are you avoiding me?”

“If I’m such a bad friend, why does it matter, Tim?”

Tim pushes off the counter, stepping toward you. His jaw clenches, and his biceps flex as he raises his arms in question. You would kiss him any other time, but right now, you’re angry that he can’t just trust you are busy. Granted, it is a lie, but you don’t appreciate the accusation, which is likely your emotions talking.

“I’m not answering your question unless you answer mine,” he says.

“Then I guess we’re not going anywhere.”

Tim looks up at the ceiling before asking, “Why?”

“I’m not going to stand here and argue with you all night. If you think I’m a liar, just say it, Tim!”

“Well, you are the one keeping secrets.”

“So, what, you think I’m avoiding you? Then get out and let me!” you demand.

“And go where? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not surrounded by friends, and I thought you were one of the few I had, but I can see now that I made a mistake.”

“Me too.”

“I’m sorry that your precious, perfect little world decided to turn you into this,” Tim seethes, looking into your eyes as he steps toward the door.

You move with him, chest to chest, as you yell, “And I’m sorry that you couldn’t figure out I love you enough to let you go back to Isabel!”

Tim falls silent, and your chest heaves with anger. You realize what you admitted, drop your gaze to Tim’s chest, and lick your lips before lowering your voice to speak again.

“Maybe I was stupid for chasing after you when I knew you weren’t interested, that your heart would always be with someone else. I thought that someday you��d realize that everything I’ve done over the last few years has been for you; I’ve been chasing you just to find out that I never had a chance.”

“I don’t want to go back to Isabel,” Tim says after a moment of tense silence. “I went to see her today to tell her that I couldn’t be there for her anymore. If I’ve been acting different, chasing after someone, it’s because I’m falling for you.”

“You don’t fall,” you argue quietly.

“You deserve better,” Tim adds. “I don’t remember what it’s like to share my life with someone who cares about me and wants the same thing.”

You nod and try to step back, but Tim moves with you. The couch is right behind you, and you have nowhere to go, so you look into Tim’s eyes.

“I am not in love with Isabel,” Tim repeats. “You really started avoiding me because you thought I was?”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“You could have asked instead of forcing me to start a yelling match for answers,” Tim replies, his lips quirking up into a small smile.

“I want you to be happy, Tim,” you explain. “And I thought that couldn’t happen if I was in the way.”

“You’re not in the way. You’re exactly where I want you.”

“Where is that?” you ask, leaning toward Tim.

“Right in the middle of my life.”

You raise your arms over Tim’s shoulders, smiling as his hands meet your waist. Tim pushes you against the back of the couch as he kisses you. He moves a hand up to cradle your head as you move with him. This kiss differs from the others; there is a need for more, an apology, and love coursing through you and Tim. Tim pulls back, and you pant for air as he places his hands on either side of your hips and leans forward.

“Just talk to me next time, would you?” he requests.

“And miss out on this? No way,” you argue.

“Don’t seem so excited about getting to yell at me for so long.”

“You’ve never kissed me like that before,” you say before you distract Tim by moving your hands to his chest.

“You’ve never told me you love me before today.”

“Sorry I had to avoid you for a while to confess it.”

“Maybe we can do it again soon, without the insults before.”

“I don’t know,” you muse. “Insults and yelling are kind of your thing.”

Tim cuts you off, kissing you again and tipping you over the back of the couch. You laugh as he catches himself and hovers over you.

“I love you too, even though you were too blind to see I felt the same,” Tim whispers.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford angst #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie abc #requests #fem!reader #hanna writes✯

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mono-moonchilds · 11 months

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NOT THE ONLY ONE | JJK

⤑ pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

⤑ genre: smut and angst

⤑ rating: explicit (18+)

⤑ word count: 3.3K

⤑ summary: whoever said that the truth would set you free was a liar. the truth was cold and it hurt. and sometimes it still left you stuck in the same cycle.

⤑ warnings: college fic, jk is an asshole, manipulative behavior, infidelity, gaslighting, sad!reader, unprotected sex, creampie, oc wants to be loved, toxic relationship

⤑ part one

The morning after was always the worst.

A harsh feeling of shame washing over every step you took as you made your way through the campus. Realistically no one knew. There was no way they could. It wasn’t like Jungkook was going to tell anyone and you definitely weren’t either. But despite knowing that it still didn’t help. It felt like everyone was staring at you- quietly judging you for the decisions you made.

Could you blame them though?

You knew exactly how everything was going to end the moment you saw Jungkook at your door. The worst part was that you’d do it again. Despite the shame and the sadness, you’d do it all over again just for those few fleeting moments of happiness.

It was pathetic.

Always craving more of Jungkook even after he showed you his true colors time after time. Always trying to convince yourself of the maybes. That maybe he would be true this time, maybe he’d stay, maybe he would simply see that you were worth it. That you were worth his time, his energy, his commitment.

It was something about never being the first choice that really fucked with someone’s well-being. Fucked with the way you carried yourself- the way you looked at yourself. Sometimes when you looked at old photos you couldn’t even recognize the person you saw. The bright smile you once sported was so foreign and far to you now.

“Y/n!” You turned to see Hoseok jogging your way. The sweet smile he always sported etched across his face just like usual. “I’ve been calling your name for a while now.”

“Ah- sorry. Didn’t even hear you.”

“I’m about to go meet Yoongi for lunch you wanna come?”

“I got a class that starts in like fifteen minutes,”

“Gross,” Hoseok gagged in disgust. “Come on just ditch this once. I got shit to tell you about last night.”

“I can’t. It’s one of Professor Williams’ classes. You know how she is.”

Right on cue, just like it always did when Hoseok heard that name, the smile on his face dropped only to be quickly replaced with genuine annoyance and anger. “Fucking hate that bitch,” He grumbled with a scowl.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “For some reason, something tells me the feeling is most likely mutual.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes. “I got weed,” He reached into his pocket pulling out a baggy. “Top tier gossip and weed. You’re crazy if you turn this down.”

“As tempted as I am, I still gotta say no. Top tier gossip and weed or my literal grade in a class that I pay to attend.” You held up your hands as if you were physically weighing both options. “I think we both know the obvious choice here.”

Hoseok booed, quite literally booed, throwing down both thumbs in the process. “Fine. Even though we both know you could tell that woman you murdered someone and she would still let you make up anything you missed. What’s the point of being the teacher's pet if you don’t use it for your advantage?”

“Save me some and tell me everything when I get home later?”

“I don’t know,” Hoseok shrugged. “I may not be in a talky mood later.”

It was silent for only a moment before the two of you both burst into laughter. Hoseok not being in the mood to talk? That was like a fish suddenly deciding it could live without water. It was never going to happen.

As you watched Hoseok leave, the tiny slither of okay-ness that you’d briefly felt left with him. Maybe you should just ditch class this once. Realistically what harm could it do? You were already ahead in your work and like Hoseok said Professor Williams wasn’t going to do anything to you if you missed a class. God knows you could use the distraction. The second Hoseok left; your brain immediately went back to Jungkook.

What was he doing? What was he thinking? Did he feel bad for leaving you like that? Did he feel bad for the way he treated you?

You already knew the answer to these questions, but you still couldn’t help but think of the maybes. Those damn maybes and the endless possibilities they could hold were going to be your downfall.

“H-,” You were about to call out to Hoseok telling him to wait up when something stopped you in your tracks.

More accurately- someone stopped you in your tracks.

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve sworn that you were having a heart attack. The pain in your chest is almost enough to knock you to your knees. You blink once, twice, and then a third trying to convince yourself that you were going crazy. That you’d finally lost it and were just seeing things.

But no matter how much you blinked or rubbed, the sight just wouldn’t go away. It was real. The girl clinging to Jungkook’s arm was very real. You wanted to believe that it was something new- that she was just another fling like you but there was something that was off. The way the two of them held each other had a sense of familiarity. The way their hands and eyes lingered. This wasn’t a fling and it definitely wasn’t anything new.

It was cultivated.

It was seasoned.

It was everything you wanted.

“I love you,” The girl leaned up pressing a long kiss to Jungkook’s lips. Even the way he smiled- it was something that you’d never seen before. The small smile on his face as he stared down at her with nothing but adoration in his eyes.

“Love you too baby.”

Your heart shattered.

When the two turn to go their separate ways Jungkook notices you. His mouth fell open a little as he looked between you and his girlfriend. She was none the wiser. A happy little bounce in her step as she entered the nearest building. Jungkook said nothing and neither did you. In fact, you did the exact opposite. You turned and ran, hightailing it out of there as fast as you could. There was this hope that Jungkook would yell after you, that he would chase you down and say something.

He never did.

Her name was Imani.

She was an education major. She had an older sister, a German Sheppard, and two loving parents. She liked taking pictures of sunsets. Always posted her adventures with her friends. Had more community service under her belt than a delinquent teen that was being forced by the state. She’d been on two study-abroad trips. One in Japan and the other in Brazil. And as recently as last semester she’d transferred into the University after leaving one that’d been closer home.

She was kind of difficult to find. And for a moment you thought maybe you were seeing things. From Jungkook’s Instagram page, you would’ve never even assumed he had a girlfriend. Most of his pictures consumed him at the gym or of random food he’d eaten. There were no pictures of her or them together and Jungkook had his tags hidden. It wasn’t until you went through the comments of ten different pictures that you found her.

l0V3lY.M4N1: my baby is so handsome 😍

Jungk00k: 💖💖💖

Her page told a different story.

Jungkook was everywhere. He was in a post as recent as a week ago and one as old as five years ago.

Imani and Jungkook had been together since their junior year of high school.

They’d attended prom together, went to each other’s family functions, hell- they spent holidays together.

If you weren’t so close to the verge of tears you’d laugh. The whole thing is hilarious in a sick way. This entire time you’d been hoping- praying that Jungkook would see you as a person when in reality he already had his person. He’d had her for half a decade. She was pretty and vibrant. Kind of reminded you of those girls you’d see on Pinterest. Perfect makeup, perfect hair, cute clothes.

You were a mess. The fading pink curls on your head matted together. The sweat jacket and pants you had on hung sloppily against your body.

With a loud noise, Jungkook's name pops across your screen. You immediately send him to voicemail. He doesn’t give up though. No matter how many times you decline the call Jungkook keeps calling again and again and again. You could’ve easily blocked him but something about the persistence he was finally making made your heart flutter in a sad way. A sick smile creeping onto your mouth each time his name popped back up. After the tenth time, you couldn’t help but swipe your thumb across.

“Open the damn door.” Click. There was a heavy knock. Your hand was already on the doorknob before you could even let out the next breath.

When the opened the door, it was like muscle memory. A loud smack echoed through the hall.

“Damn,” A distant voice in the hall echoed out.

Jungkook’s head slowly turned back to face you. His eyes were low with anger. “That make you feel better?” He huffed out.

“No. Go the fuck home Jungkook.”

Of course, he didn’t listen. Just like the night before he pushed his way into the apartment shutting the door behind him.

“List-”

“You’re a real piece of shit you know that right?” You cut him off. “Just when I think you couldn’t get any worse you prove me wrong. You have a girlfriend!”

“It doesn’t mean anything,”

You blinked in disbelief. Did he really just say that? You couldn’t help but laugh. Jungkook stared at you like you’d grown two heads. His face twisted between a mix of discomfort and confusion.

“You’ve been together for five years.”

“How do you even know that?”

You held up your phone flicking on the screen. “It’s all right here,”

“What the fuck,” Jungkook attempted to reach for the phone, but you were too quick. Stepping back, you smoothly moved it away. “Are you fucking crazy!” You jumped at the sound of Jungkook’s booming voice.

There was nothing but pure disgust on his face and even though it should’ve truly been the opposite way around you couldn’t help but feel shame.

“What is wrong with you?”

You couldn’t even answer. The phone you were holding so proudly in the air just a second ago now feeling as heavy as a bag of sand.

“I don’t even know why I came here,” Jungkook sighed letting out a deep breath. “I’m leaving.”

Let him leave.

Please just let him leave.

Your brain quietly begged you.

His hand was on the knob. Jungkook was almost gone. Just let him leave.

“Jungkook please,” You quietly called out. “Please don’t leave. I’m…. I’m- I’m sorry.”

For once when you looked at Jungkook he genuinely seemed to be in shock. Like even he was in disbelief of what he’d just heard. You couldn’t even believe it yourself. Out of all the things you should’ve said, had you really just apologized?

“Please-” He closed his eyes. “Don’t apologize…. why are you fucking apologizing? Shit-” Jungkook whispered running his hands over his face. “I…I can’t,”

“Jungkook please,”

“What do you want from me!” The dark hair boy whipped around. “Fuck…baby,” Jungkook swore again. “I didn’t mean to yell. Please don’t cry.”

You whispered a small okay, but the tears didn’t stop. Even as Jungkook moved forward his soft hands cupping your face as he gently tried to wipe the tears away, they didn’t stop. Just like last night when Jungkook touched you- you couldn’t help but lean further into him. Your body curled into him as he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you.

“What are you doing to me?” Jungkook mumbled. It was so quiet you weren’t even sure you were meant to hear it.

For the first time since the very first time, Jungkook was soft. His lips gently caressed yours as he guided you through the narrow hall and to your bedroom. As Jungkook laid you down you couldn’t help but cling to him. Your arms and legs wrapped tightly around his body as if you let go he would just disappear. You knew he was going to leave at some point- he always did- but for right now you wanted him as close as possible.

Imani be damned. Jungkook was yours and you were his.

At least for this moment.

“Take this off,” He tugged at your jacket. Without a second thought, you leaned forward sliding the jacket over your head before letting it fall to the floor. “My pretty girl,” Jungkook whispered sliding your bra off next. A low whine escaped you as Jungkook’s fingers ghosted across your skin.

“What do you want?”

“Anything,”

A light chuckle left Jungkook’s nose. In all honesty, it made you feel gross. The way the knowing smirk registered on his face as he thought about your words. Even though you hadn’t technically said it Jungkook knew what you meant. He knew exactly what he was doing and that alone should’ve made you push him off you.

But you didn’t. Instead, you begged.

He just shushed you. “You don’t want me to rush right?” You quickly shook your head. “I know you don’t want me to.”

With that, Jungkook went back to what he was doing. Tracing his fingers along while you lay there taking whatever he gave you. Piece by piece, Jungkook took his time removing the remainder of your clothes.

“I haven’t even done anything and you're so fucking wet,” Jungkook reached down spreading your lips apart. “You’d take anything I gave you. Do anything I say. Wouldn’t you?” You gave a shameful nod. Jungkook just smiled smugly to himself.

You let out a breath of relief as Jungkook finally leaned down pressing long kisses against your body. The dark-haired boy not stopping until he was right in front of the place you needed him most.

The loud blaring of Jungkook’s phone ringing pulled the two of you from the moment. You couldn’t see who was calling but for some reason, you already knew.

“Hi baby,” Jungkook said sweetly into the phone confirming your suspicion. The lust-filled fog you’d briefly felt immediately lifted and now all that was left was disgust. What the hell were you doing?

“No no-” He laughed. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I’m sorry I couldn’t come with you. Yeah no-” Jungkook let out a deep breath. “I’m still not feeling to well.” A soft whimper escaped your lips as Jungkook took his thumb resting it on your clit as he rubbed against the small button in circular motions.

Pouting his lips out, Jungkook silently shushed you. “No babe don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’ll be fine tomorrow. M’just gonna lay down and go to sleep.” He pushed a finger in making you gasp.

“Yeah, I know.” Jungkook hummed. “I love you too,”

If Jungkook hadn’t hung up the phone so quickly the sound of you bursting into tears would’ve definitely exposed the five different lies he’d just told. Never once in all your years had you experienced two totally different emotions at once.

“Y/n- baby,” Jungkook cooed softly as he leaned down pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You sucked in a shaky breath, arms wrapping around your body. “What the fuck-” You heaved. It felt like you were about to throw up. “Oh my god… what am I do- you-you have a girlfriend.”

“But I’m here with you. Just let me do this.” Jungkook begged. He sounded so sincere. You could feel yourself falling back under. “Just one last time. You- you drive me crazy.”

It was so sad how that was all it took for Jungkook to have you back under his spell. A faint smile filled his lips as he pushed back so he could stand up and pull down his pants. The tip of his cock was dark red and leaking with anticipation.

You began to roll over onto your stomach but a hand resting on your hip stopped you. “I wanna see you,” Your heart swelled.

Despite the position change, Jungkook was still as rough as he usually was. His fingers dug harshly into your throat as he fucked you. As much as you didn’t want to think about it you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering if this was how he treated Imani. The very nature in how he spoke to her was so different that you couldn’t imagine it to be true. Jungkook was probably so gentle with her, he took his time making her feel special with every touch while with you Jungkook just fucked you like some whore.

And that’s all you were. At least to him.

That still didn’t stop you from grasping at his arm as you asked for more.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Jungkook demanded. “Wanna see you. Need shit-” He let out a deep groan. “Need to see you.”

You nodded your head in compliance but with the way Jungkook pushed into you, it was too hard to keep your word. “ah- Kook…please- fuck,” The way he looked on top of you was so gorgeous. His hair hung in his face as his eyebrows twisted in determination.

“I know baby,” Jungkook gasped as he twisted your left nipple between the balls of his fingers. “You’re so good- doing so fucking good.” You let out a loud whine. “What is it, baby?”

“Muh-more. Please- more,”

“Words baby,”

You weren’t even sure what you meant. Whether you meant it literally, figuratively, or both. Probably both. All you wanted was Jungkook.

Instead of saying anything else you just pulled him closer until his body was lying flat against yours. When Jungkook pulled away you almost felt yourself about to cry, rejection flooding your body, but within seconds he hushed you pulling your legs onto his shoulders before he leaned down pressing himself against you again.

“No marks,” He muttered sternly. You hadn’t even realized you’d begun. Jungkook didn’t follow his own direction though. His lips sucking eagerly on your neck as he continued to fuck you open.

You couldn’t help the tears rolling down your face. You just wanted this all the time. Wanted Jungkook all the time.

“Please, please”

“My pretty baby gonna cum?” You bounced your head eagerly. “Me too- mmm… you feel so fucking good.” You gasped loudly clenching tightly around him. “That’s right baby- give it to me.”

You’re sure the neighbor can hear you as you scream out in pleasure from the band in your stomach snapping. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as nothing but the sound of static and color white filled your brain.

Jungkook came with a loud groan. His body stuttering against yours as his warm cum painted your walls creamy white. Even as Jungkook fell to the side rolling onto his back you didn’t let him go. Your arms wrapped around his stomach as if he would disappear if you let him go for just a second.

Because he would. Undoubtedly Jungkook was going to leave you and there was nothing you could do about it.

He was going to walk out of here and go back to Imani as if nothing between the two of you had ever existed. Just the thought of him running his hands along her deep brown skin is enough to make you want to puke.

And as much as you wanted to hate her you couldn’t. You were the one in the wrong. Maybe you didn’t know about her at first but now you did, and you’d still slept with Jungkook.

“Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

“I hate you. I hate you so much.” You sobbed.

“I know,” Jungkook took a long pause. “I hate me too.”

When you woke up the next morning just like you expected your room was empty. The only trace of Jungkook even being here is the scattered marks along your jaw.

When you picked up your phone it’s still where you left it last night.

On Imani’s Instagram page.

You don’t know why you did what you did next.

You click the little blue button in the top left corner.

⤑ A/N: I'm sorry guys I know a lot of you who liked the first story wanted a part two where jk was redeemed but tbh I just could not think of a storyline for that. even when this one-shot was originally jikook I had always imagined that if there was a pt 2 in the next fic jk would turn out to have had a significant other the whole time. also, I like angst sue me :p

#bts smut #bts x black reader #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook drabble #bts jungkook #jungkook x black reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #btshoneyhive

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porcelainseashore · 4 months

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Ghosts from the Past (1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Agent! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Informant! Fem! Reader

Summary: 7 years after leaving behind everything you’ve known, you’re suddenly thrust into facing a ghost from your past, Leon. Navigating where you stand with him brings up old memories, painful truths and countless questions. At the same time, you have to deal with a bunch of strange occurrences at your dance company. Set after Resident Evil 4 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Canon-Typical Horror and Violence, Blood, Injury, Torture, Infection, Medical Experiments, Psychological Trauma, Nightmares

Content: Post-Resident Evil 4, Exes to Lovers, Partners to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, Romance, Fluff

Author's Note: This fic takes place after Part 1 Teenage Headache Dreams so feel free to give that a read first. Note that I might get a little creative with RE lore and chapter updates could be longer than before, so please bear with me. Thank you to all those who gave feedback and followed me on this journey so far! 🫶

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: The Invitation

7 years.

7 years since you last saw him.

But he hasn’t stopped haunting you.

You were stumbling your way through the sweaty crowd in one of the nightclubs you usually patronized. The thumping electronic beats resounded in your ears, as throngs of people writhed and shook to the music, raising their open palmed hands towards the DJ, like they were praying to some demigod. The room was bathed in a swathe of dark red light, and you were parting it like a sea of blood.

Dark kohl liner accentuated your eyes and your lips were the color of bruised plum, smudged slightly due to the humidity of the place. Your body was slick with perspiration, glittering under the lights, and it was barely covered by pieces of lace and a leather harness. A random guy pulled up next to you, whispering lewd nothings in your ear as you shoved him aside nonchalantly.

You were drugged up, high out of your mind, but everyone else was anyway, so why did you even care? Something instinctual told you to get to the middle, no matter what. So here you were, pushing your way through unapologetically, like you were on some unspoken mission.

And there he was. In the center. Blonde hair, blue eyes, t-shirt and jeans, just like you remembered him, as if time had not passed at all. As if it was only yesterday.

He stared at you intensely, wearing a scowl on his face, unspeaking. You noticed how tired he looked, like he just wanted to end it right there and then. So tired.

Maybe it was like those indigenous myths you had read about in class when you were young. The saying was that if one faces death, death has no choice but to grant them a final dance. Were you now in the shoes of death, frozen to the spot, watching him so he could cross over to the other side? Except, he wasn’t dancing. He remained there, completely still, eyeing you emotionlessly.

“Leon…” you mouthed, as your voice was drowned out by the blaring sound system.

The next moment, he disappeared into thin air like a shadowed specter, a faded memory of what you once had.

Suddenly, everything around you erupted in flames, the bright light dazzling you and the scorching heat against your skin causing you to shrink away in fear. Your lungs felt like they were suffocating as you coughed vehemently due to the thick smoke that enveloped you. What the hell was all of this?

As you attempted to make a run for the exit, you noticed piles of bloodied-up bodies lying on the floor, surrounding you in a tight circle. Tripping over them, your eyes widened in shock as you began to recognize who they belonged to. There lay your parents, Leon’s parents, Kayla and the rest of the cheerleaders… the count went on as you frantically tried to shuffle yourself backwards, away from the source of terror, until you heard a deafening screech tearing through your eardrums.

BRRRNNGGG!!!

The sound of your alarm clock jolted you from your sleep. Hitting the ‘off’ button in response, you cursed out loud as your body shuddered uncontrollably. Your blanket and sheets were wet and clammy with puddles of your sweat. Trying to calm yourself, you took a quick gulp of water from the glass sitting on your bedside table and started to slow your breathing down.

Why were these dreams getting more and more frequent? You’d see Leon each time and then everything would turn to shit. There was just so much carnage and destruction back there, it nearly felt real.

You turned accusingly towards the framed photo of you and Leon back when you had posed together for your college graduation, still standing upright on your bedside table. Gripping it tightly till your knuckles were white, you opened one of the table drawers and chucked it inside, watching it clatter into the darkness as you shut the drawer back roughly.

Fuck, Leon! Why? You cried out internally, begging him to stop with the nightmares. Cradling your head in your hands, you broke out into sobs, whilst at the same time chiding yourself for not moving on from him all these years.

Bzzzt bzzzt. The burner phone on your desk interrupted your thoughts abruptly.

You sighed, picking yourself up from the bed and groggily trudging towards it. Flipping the phone open, you were greeted by yet another cryptic text from your handler.

The Chancery. Cocktail event. Tonight 7pm.

Right. Not like she would give you any more information on what this was about. As an informant, you were on a need-to-know basis and had to be happy with whatever scraps you got.

Your mind took a trip down memory lane of how you even landed in such a position in the first place. Ever since that fateful day where you decided to leave and never turn back, you used up whatever savings you had and ran all the way from the Midwest of America to the capital of Germany. There, you naturally fell into the arms of the renowned Silje Völker dance company, who had welcomed you so warmly you even forgot about her peculiar, icy demeanor back when she had scouted you from the dance showcase.

You thought moving to another country and making a new life there would help ease the pain of losing Leon, but you were wrong. Still, it couldn’t be worse than remaining in the place where the catastrophe happened and everything reminded you of him.

Then, about a year ago, some men in black suits handed you their card, reaching out with a proposition. Work for the US government as an informant. We need people like you, they said. There was something fishy going on with Silje, a wealthy, eccentric heiress, and artistic director of the dance company you were part of. She even owned the theater where your training and performances were conducted, and that venue was now under suspicion. As you had worked your way up to become one of her principal dancers, you were now in a prime position to gather the information they needed.

They were just so convincing. It reminded you of what Leon had said when he was younger. About wanting to protect the innocent and make a difference in the world. With that, you didn’t even think; you just said yes.

Yes. To honor the memory of the boy you loved. Yes. If only you could have just said that one word to him, and to whatever he wanted. Yes.

So now you sought to betray the woman whom you saw as your surrogate mother. Your mother who had helped you find your way in a foreign country, where you were all alone, afraid and distraught. The one who nurtured you into the woman you were standing here today - bold, cunning and adaptable. It felt like life was playing a cruel trick on you. One you could not win.

After rushing through your daily routine, you gathered your things, slipping off an elegant, black cocktail dress from your hanger and stuffing it into your day bag, before heading out to the theater where you normally spent your waking hours training.

You greeted Silje, or Frau Völker - as she preferred to be called by the other dancers, except you and a select few - on the way in. Silje was a tall and wiry lady, with an aristocratic air about her. She consistently wore her platinum white hair in a tight bun, which pulled tautly against the skin along her jawline. For as long as you’ve known her, she never once took off her pitch black sunglasses, whether outdoors or indoors. Her dull-colored clothes covered her arms and legs fully and expensive leather gloves lined her hands at all times. Despite her fragile figure, she commanded authority and projected an intimidating presence.

As you entered the dance studio, she stopped you, gesturing to the dress peeking out of your bag. “Going somewhere special tonight?”

Nothing could remain hidden from her astute gaze for long.

“Oh, just an international exchange at the embassy,” you lied through a perfect smile.

“How patriotic,” she crooned. You had gotten used to her dark humor and sarcasm by now, so you didn’t pay much attention to it as you shrugged in response.

“Well, enough chit-chat. We have a lot of work to do.” She clapped her hands twice to raise the awareness of the rest of the dance company. “Let’s go through the second part of the Rite, shall we?”

“You-” She pointed a bony finger in your direction. “Need to make those jumps lighter.”

You nodded, acknowledging her criticism that she dished out to you in front of everyone.

“Be in the air, not tied to the ground, my dear.”

As she flashed over a wide, toothy grin, for a split second you were sure that you saw razor sharp fangs emerging from them. However, they were gone the moment you looked back again.

━━━━━━━━━━━

That evening, you exited out of Friedrichstraße station, one of the main shopping districts in central Berlin. The bustling streets were brightly lit against the darkening sky, as you darted in and out of the swarm of human traffic to get to the embassy. Your heels clacked along the pavement as you made a right, hurrying towards a closed off street, which was heavily fortified with barriers and fencing.

From afar, you could make out the five-storey, gabled building with beige stone slabs, and the American flag hanging over its front entrance. One of the guards checked in with you, jotting down some notes against your name on his clipboard as he ushered you indoors.

Dropping off your winter coat and day bag at the makeshift cloakroom, you slipped a couple of spare coins into the tip jar and headed up to the function room. Lively chatter and background music spilled out from its open doors into the corridor you were in.

You checked yourself anxiously in a reflective surface nearby to make any last minute adjustments. Since your handler hadn’t revealed much of why you had been requested, you wanted to make sure you looked the part and fit in, in case you needed to do some sweet talking with, what you might guess, the elite members of society.

Your hands were trembling ever so slightly as you smoothened out imaginary creases in your shimmery, black satin dress which clung snugly to your body, emphasizing your curves. It had a low, backless design that teased just the right amount of bare skin without raising a scandal. Despite that, you were still debating whether it was too little or too much. In fact, the length of the dress reached so close to the floor, it was a wonder you hadn’t had an accident while walking around in it yet. Maybe you should alter the hem of it in the near future.

The sound of the hallway clock chiming at 7 sharp disrupted your inner monologue, as you realized you should adhere to your punctuality. Making the final touches to your loose, tousled bun and swabbing your lips with a light layer of rouge stain, you finally broke away and entered the function room.

Drinks and canapés lined the long, white banquet tables to the side, while men in snazzy suits and women in fine threads gathered around in their cliques, conversing with each other. It felt like you had gone back in time and were thrown into some 70s gala party, where you didn’t know a single soul.

A waiter stopped in front of you carrying a tray of bubbly champagne in tall flute glasses. “Madame?” He offered you one from his delicate hand.

You nodded gratefully, taking it before situating yourself at a corner of the room, sipping your drink slowly. Glancing at your watch, you observed that 15 minutes had passed since the supposed meeting time of 7pm. Scanning the room proved fruitless as you didn’t find anything of note.

Where was your handler, Bergmann? What was this party for? You wondered.

At some point, you felt a shadow loom over you from your left shoulder, but you didn’t have a chance to react until it spoke.

“Talk about seeing a ghost from the past.”

Your ears perked up at the voice that you would recognize anywhere, except it sounded deeper and gruffer this time.

No, it couldn’t be…

Alarm bells started to ring in your head, as you tried to convince yourself that this was one of your nightmares again. Maybe you had fallen asleep on the U-Bahn and now you were lucid dreaming.

You pinched your arm, not daring to look in the direction of the source of the voice. This was just a dream.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna help.”

Or not.

Your breath hitched as you turned sharply to your left, coming face-to-face with a pair of electric blue eyes set in a hollow stare, the dark circles under them giving away his fatigue. His chiseled face was marred by a cut he was nursing on his bottom lip, and his mop of blonde hair was almost like how you remembered it, but longer at the bangs and lighter in color as if it had been bleached in the sun. He was also suited up, black this time, but you could tell he had grown bulkier and more muscular underneath.

How was this possible? What was going on?

You couldn’t even begin to comprehend the scene in front of you, as everything around the room began to spin and your vision blurred. There was the sound of a glass breaking, and the last thing you were conscious of was a strong set of arms wrapping around you, followed by a yell, “Give her some air!”

Then darkness came to claim you.

━━━━━━━━━━━

There was something wet on your face and what felt like a cold breeze, causing a shiver to run through your spine. Then, you sensed a light tapping against your cheek.

“Hey, hey. Wake up.”

Your eyes fluttered open and you were met again with those vivid blue eyes. As you came to, you realized that you were out on one of the balconies, your head propped up by his suit jacket while you lay on the ground.

He held out a glass of water in his hand. “Here.”

You pushed yourself up on your elbows until you came into a sitting position, before taking it from him gingerly. Your body was still shaking as you drank from the glass and at this, he took his jacket and placed it over your shoulders to cover you.

“Thanks,” you managed weakly.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, while carefully helping you to your feet.

There was a moment of silence as both of you eyed each other without a word. However, it seemed as if he wasn’t surprised to see you, which was weird.

“Leon,” you stuttered. “How-”

The balcony door slid open.

“Ah, there you are!” A young man with a communication earpiece, whom you assumed was one of the staff members, called out.

He glanced between the two of you knowingly. “I see you’ve gotten acquainted.”

“Bergmann will see you now.” He signaled towards the elevators past the crowd.

Leon gave him a quick nod. “We’ll talk later,” he whispered in your ear as you followed the man leading you towards the top floor of the building.

Passing by an unassuming door on the fifth level, he rapped it thrice and you heard the distinct tone of Bergmann informing you to come in. He pushed the door and held it open for both of you before he left.

A woman in her late 40s with curly, auburn ringlets and donning a light gray pantsuit greeted you and Leon.

“Kirsten Bergmann,” she introduced herself while shaking Leon’s hand.

“Leon Kennedy.”

“Of course,” she smirked. “USSTRATCOM’s golden boy.”

You were confused, but started to piece together bits of the conversation. Leon had been alive and working for the government this whole time?

“So you’ve met my informant.” Bergmann motioned at you. “She seems to have a flair for making a spectacle of herself recently.” She frowned disapprovingly, referring to the incident that happened earlier that evening.

You bowed your head in embarrassment, but Leon appeared completely indifferent.

“Anyway, Hunnigan will be joining us on comms shortly.”

With that, she turned to one of the screens in the room which had been switched on and was showing a connecting symbol. A few seconds later, a bespectacled lady with her hair neatly tied back appeared on it.

“Hunnigan here. Shall we get to it?”

Bergmann took the lead on the discussion.

“My informant will be an invaluable asset to Agent Kennedy’s mission. She has nestled herself deep within the target company and gained the trust of Ms Silje Völker, who has started to, on her own accord, disclose further information in confidentiality to my informant. All the intel has been fed back to HQ.”

Pressing a button, Bergmann brought up a blueprint map of the theater on another screen, except this had additional markings on it in your own handwriting.

“As you can see, exploration of the target site has shown multiple hidden passageways, false doors and even additional depths absent in the original plans. A copy of this has already been forwarded to all of you.”

This time, Bergmann turned to face you, folding her arms as she continued.

“In addition, my informant has secured various key connections that will prove the validity of our findings and help Agent Kennedy gain a foothold on getting access into the target site easily.”

“We are certain this is the base of operations,” she added, almost triumphantly.

“And I shouldn’t have to remind you how this case needs to be handled with the utmost discretion,” she warned, gazing strictly at Leon and Hunnigan.

“We have to ensure that US-German relations remain solid and the last thing we want is for this thing to blow up in the public. Much less in the capital.”

“Understood,” came Hunnigan’s unwavering reply. “I’m sure Leon will be able to manage that.”

“Perfect,” Bergmann replied, looking rather satisfied with herself. “My informant will work closely with you on this. There are sights to see, people to meet, and she will accompany you-”

“With all due respect, I don’t need a babysitter.” Leon suddenly piped up from the middle of the room.

You watched in astonishment, your jaw falling ajar, as he insulted you in front of your colleagues. His harsh words stung you inside. It seemed as if he hated you, and wanted nothing to do with you. But why?

“I am more than capable of finishing this myself,” he continued firmly.

Bergmann’s brows furrowed and her nostrils flared, as she looked at Leon like she was about to reprimand a child. “I assure you, she-”

“Take her off the case,” he demanded.

“Agent Kennedy!” Bergmann raised her voice. “That’s not your decision to make.”

From the intercoms, Hunnigan concurred, “I’m sorry, Leon. It’s been endorsed by the higher ups.”

“This is fucking bullshit.” He smacked his hand on a nearby table in defeat.

A tiny smile appeared on Bergmann’s face and you knew she had a trick up her sleeve. “Besides, Agent, how good is your German?”

He glared at her pointedly. “Good enough.”

She laughed mockingly and proceeded to speak with him in German, using a mixture of complex and colloquial sentences, which you noted that Leon was having a fair amount of difficulty processing. Then she turned to you, indicating that you should answer, and you complied with her order obediently.

“She’s fluent, even passable as a native.” Bergmann remarked smugly. “You, on the other hand, won’t last a day with that grasp of the language.”

Leon didn’t respond, but instead resorted to shooting daggers at her.

“Well, now that part’s over and done with, let’s move on to the logistics.” Bergmann stated simply, as if the previous altercation had never occurred.

She pushed forward, briefing you and Leon on the capacity in which you two should work together, how to approach comms, backstories and the like, including the next steps required in the task ahead.

At the end, she requested you to step outside and wait for Leon on the ground floor, as she relayed further details to him that you were not privy to. You had grown accustomed to this sort of treatment, even if you didn’t like secrets being withheld from you. So you waited patiently on one of those stiff, high-back wooden chairs in the lobby, for the man you thought had been a ghost all this while to find you.

How did he survive? Why didn’t he say anything? Was he still upset about the past? Is that why he had treated you with such venom at the meeting? You had a million questions running through your head. Nothing made sense. Maybe the only reason why you weren’t having a mental breakdown at the moment was because you knew you had a job to do.

“Something on your mind?”

You whipped around, startled by the unexpected intrusion. It was Leon, regarding you with curiosity despite the constant scowl on his face.

You sighed, catching your breath and lowering your hands that had been clutched at your chest. “Wanna start talking?”

“Not here,” he replied. “Somewhere less open.” He glanced around before adding, “More rowdy.”

You nodded, understanding that he wanted a place without prying ears. “There’s a grimy bar that’s always packed to the brim in Neukölln. No one will give a shit there.”

He scoffed. “Sounds like my type of bar.”

Pointing at his attire, you commented, “You gotta get out of that suit though. Not unless you want to attract some attention.”

He leaned against the wall, allowing his bangs to fall over his eyes as he folded his arms and smirked at you. “Suits me.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fluff #re4 leon #re4 remake #resident evil 4 #resident evil #porcelainscribbles

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alteredpupil · 1 year

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PICK A CARD - WHAT’S GETTING READY TO CHANGE AND WHY

Literally all the piles had a heavy theme of setting strong boundaries. I might end up doing a collective reading because now that I finished this I’m getting a lot of you are going through the same things or a certain theme playing out. This lets me know a lot of these situations is karmic and clearing out of past energies or “residue”. This could even be due to the retrogrades going on at this time.

PILE ONE

It’s so funny how the first two cards are “Transformation” and “Endings and Rebirth”. This is a huge change… like moving homes or cities. This is being surrounded by a completely new group of people pile one… and you know what they say, you are who you spend time with. For some of you i got a message of you guys being in a toxic or abusive relationship and your low self esteem is letting you accept benevolent behavior. Some of you could be in denial or feel like you have nobody outside this person, maybe it’s the long history that makes you feel like you can’t let go. I’m getting you need to mend your relationship with your own self & spirit family or guides… and will. For a couple of you i’m getting pregnancy, if that’s something you were trying for them congratulations pile one! Another extreme change is how you will manage your time and balancing between multiple things. The reason i say this is extreme because overtime the little steps will make you realize that your whole life & circumstance changed before your eyes. I don’t know why i feel the need to say it but there’s a energy of your life taking a physical transformation but if you refuse to let go of the past (mainly picking up on people and bad habits), you will prosper only physically. Your self fulfillment will come from a lot of reflection and action. What’s going to help you let go of your past and toxic relationships is you’re gonna feel a new sense of responsibility and taking life more seriously. I see you feeling a lot better soon as you do thought pile one, you will feel more free and there’s a heavy weight lifted off your change. For some of you, the other person or a situation might be leaving your life so you will feel abandoned at first. Lots of mood swings but i see you taking pride in your work. Some type of truth might be coming out that will cause something to finally come to a end but i feel like right when this happens you will have come across a opportunity or started something that will occupy the majority of your time and thought. Despite possibly feeling hurt i don’t want you to stress or worry about this. You will feel you have somewhere to go if that makes sense, you won’t be left alone. My pet just came in the room as i said that… some of you might be getting a new pet! A lot of you could also start working out and if you have insomnia you will find it helps you sleep better. You could even be watching your diet and this will cause your body to transform physically, i’m seeing a confidence boost so that’s a plus! I asked for advice for you to deal with this change and if you need to go into hermit mode and force yourself to do shadow work, do that. No more running from yourself and it’s going to bring a happy change. Self care energy is heavy! Prioritize your peace and responsibilities.

PILE TWO

Okay my collective in this group could be on two opposite sides of the same coin. Some of you are influencers, models, or have some type of following. The first half is getting ready to go into “hiding” and being more private. The other half after going to start showcasing themselves more and putting yourself out there. On both ends i’m getting working on your boundaries and learning to say no. No more overextending yourself. Also side note: a lot of you will be getting heavily into skincare and grooming. It will pay off! You will attract something into your life that will change the course of your career mainly & public persona or status. This is my fiery pile most likely. For some of you this could be buying a home with your family or somebody you consider family. This is spending a lot of time with loved ones and possibly working towards the same goals. There could be a risk involved with whatever you’re taking on next but you will decide choosing this path is worth it. Okay back to the two collectives, if you’re pushing yourself into isolation because you’re letting divination or the news and media i’m hearing ?? get you paranoid then please cut that out. You’re only holding back on your own potential and i’m getting your intuition is very strong so don’t let fear mongering get to you. For others of you you’re trying to protect yourself and a partner or project. Maybe all three. If you have a lot of eyes on you this could have made you wanna go private, for some of you this could also be on social media. Just make sure you’re doing what you’re doing for the right reasons regardless of the side you’re own. You got boundaries as change and when i clarified the “why”… i got boundaries again. This pile could be working with their sacral chakra a lot and you just feel above certain things now. You might’ve outgrew certain environments and activities and want to pour more into pursuing your own passions. Be careful not to be tooooo sharp tongued but do stand up for yourself how you intend. Your skills will be valued or whatever you got to create. You’re manifesting quickly my pile two and the change for you will be having the resources to take on the next project and so on. “Never running out”. If you guys got some type of altar or are connected to your ancestors then just know they’re going extra hard for you behind the scenes. Another change is you or somebody from your past will reach out to each other. I see reconciliation or at least being civil and it goes over nicely. You both might’ve matured a lot in the time spent apart. This could even be on social media or through text. This person is a past life soulmate for a lot of you, doesn’t matter the relationship type. Why is this change happening and your life changing? Because you left a mark on a lot of people. Some of you are very kind and understanding. You could make others feel understood. You could have some messages for yourself in pile one (although this pile energy is was more confident and self assured) because you also got the message of prioritizing your own peace. You guys could dance a lot or even take dancing classes. I think this is spiritually helping you transmute energy in some type of what, maybe your past pain spills away when you dance. This could be your healthy escape per say. You value honesty and this will also lead you around a healthier crowd.

PILE THREE

I’m getting fame! Or you could be in the spotlight for a long time. You’re either bringing justice to a situation that happened and speaking out or people will be attracted to what you have to say. Some people will look at you like a authoritative figure. Even if it starts off based on either your looks or music I’m hearing, you will draw people in with your mouthpiece. Your family life or home is also going to be a place you like spending a lot of time if that’s not the case. This is because somebody gives you a gift wether physically or mentally (new family member?). This person could be a mentor figure or somebody older than you, perhaps a partner. For some of you, you’re moving in with a spouse or partner. You will be torn between two opportunities presented to you by a fire sign man, or he will try to get in the way of these opportunities. It’s the start of something new but I don’t know if I would go for it, it’s not a extraordinary offer. There could be a male figure that’s more on the aggressive side leaving you confused. It’s important you make big decisions by consoling yourself last and coming to the finale choice. Don’t let anybody else make it for you because I’m seeing this change can very well be you left confused when it comes to making money. Especially if this is somebody that never helped till they seen something go good for you, they might unintentionally sabotage it. Selfish intentions. Also if you’re around a lot of people or receiving a lot of attention, up your boundaries. For some of you this is somebody new that comes in full force and tries to have a say on what you do. They could disguise themselves as somebody of importance, might really have that power too but I’m getting “check their history” out. You’re not naive, you got it, pile three. Something you read or a piece of information you receive will cause you to put your mind at ease. Some of you could be holding on to something that’s hurt you for a long time or some type of conflict. This information you’re getting ready to receive or see is going to do a complete 360 for you, maybe you’re forgiving somebody. Some of you might be a bit ruthless and you could see somebody who did you wrong life is in shambles. This might make you happy and let go of the situation. For others of you this is information that changes how you see yourself and the world. Beautiful change regardless of some of you being on the darker side of said change lol! This is my pile that’s not so forgiving or holds onto resentment. It’s giving water sign energy. If you recently did a protection ritual, that shit is workinggggg! Either a protection or road block opener spell that’s going to remove anything that was holding you back. Maybe this is how some of you end up taking off as far as fame, people can really pick up on your energy. You will have a certain glow to you that wasn’t there before, maybe it’s in the way you smile or your facial expressions. Your internal showing, you guys know the expression wearing your heart on your sleeves? I’m getting some of you will be wearing your energy on your face. The more confident you get, the more your power is increasing. You’ll be more grounded in time to come and therefore it will be easy for you to maneuver through situations that could’ve left you uneasy or anxious in the past. The change is you’re not overthinking as much and acting more. Those of you that are going through a rebirth, this is because you’ve emotionally matured. Side note: I’m hearing “I wanna take it! I wanna take it!”. This rebirth is also induced by whatever creative project or creation you’re making. You will benefit from being emotionally and intuitively connected to yourself, therefore the rebirth and creative overflow. A lot of you will be transmuting that pain you hold into success. That’s beautiful pile three. This is my pile I feel like I don’t gotta touch on shadow attributes as much because I’m getting you guys already know that about yourself and working on changing it. You’re attracting fame, material, healing, protection, and grounding.

You’re attracting a fresh start. But the one thing I want you keeping a eye on is your money sources and income. That could be changing for the worst only due to stagnation, indecisiveness, or confusion. I have no idea why it said this paragraph was getting too long so I had to finish here. Overall though, the emotional fulfillment you’re going to be in is a major point in why you’re attracting the good. So don’t run away from how you feel or try to shut it out pile three! It’s going to aid in your journey to success.

PILE FOUR

I don’t know what you’re doing differently but the change is the way people perceive you. I’m getting you will be more respected by your community and people in close proximity. If some of you are entertainers or service providers of some sort, your work will be a lot more respected. Your reading just got kinda crazy pile four. You’ll be a lot more sharped tongued and on guard. Some people might walk on eggshells around you because they know you will pop off if you hear the wrong thing. But I’m getting all this happens because you went throught or going to find out that a bunch of people you though you could trust or be indifferent towards could’ve been talking behind your back or being sneaky. For some of you this could literally be somebody stealing from you… money, clothes, ideas, material. I’m not gonna lie at first you might feel your heart just dropped to your stomach but this is going to make you mentally stronger and more on guard. There is sooo much air energy here which is crazy because I was gonna say this is my overthinkers. You could be replaying people mean words or betrayal over and over in your head, for some of you this could leave you feeling mentally stuck and bound but know you are not pile four. I’m getting being in isolation is not going to do you well, go out even if it’s alone. Go in nature, do activities, do self care. Remember the bad bitch that you are. You’ll be stepping into your masculine energy, some of you I’m heard are literally playing chess. It’s giving ice queen. If people know that you found out about something I’m getting a scenario of going to a job for example the next day or the same party place and people just seeing you and going quiet. They don’t want any problems lol! Your demeanor changes, you’re being more bold. If you played nice with this group or person at first you will remind them of who you really are, some of them literally feel like they’re dealing with a different person than the one they met. But I’m also getting your ideas are very rampant at this time, keep them to yourself and write them down! People want the knowledge and ideas you possess for themselves. This pile could already have something to prove they’re successful or can get shit done so this leaves people wanting to do the same. I’m getting you’re gonna be very happy while you’re icing people out. Like “okay, I let this go on too long” and having a blasting reminding people what is and isn’t acceptable. You might make certain people feel like cowards because the mess they were spewing they won’t be able to say to your face. I’m just getting don’t take this out on everybody pile four, “keep your allies”. A little situation that happens can’t take you off your path or change your destiny, it can only keep you mentally bound and steal time you could be using to fulfill your destiny. On a good note, I feel like you are going towards your life purpose! You’re just going to clear out karmic cycles on the way. Despite all this you’ll be in a state of bliss almost, some of you literally have a secret weapon. What do I mean? When situations like this occur, there’s somewhere you go physically or in your mind that literally “powers you up” is what I’m hearing. This could be anything and will be different for all of you - a memory, a person, a skill… you are more cunning and calculated than some people realize. A lot of people might be fooled by your looks and underestimate you. You guys also got similar cards to pile three, if you feel called to check that pile out do so. For some of you there is a friendship or partner coming your way that keeps you feeling strong and on your A game, you guys could be going through similar situations. I’m sorry if this pile feels more “negative” per say but I’m getting a lot of this change is mental and about how you navigate whatever the world throws at you (nothing you can’t handle). I asked for a positive change cards for you guys and wow! If some of you been struggling, homeless, or just living in poverty. You’re literally going to the queen of pentacles!

If the situation I was speaking on earlier is a job situation, the reason so many people are gossiping about you is because you could be making the most money or out hustling everybody. Keep going pile four, it will all be worth it. I’m hearing by end of the year you’ll be living a lifestyle you always wanted. If you hold back from snapping on people I’m getting you’ll be happy with this decision because you know they’ll be watching you live your best life with no acknowledgement from you.

#pick a card #pick a pile #tarot reading #pac reading #pick an image #pick a picture

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daechwitatamic · 11 months

Text

3. Libration || KSJ

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: Amalthea (Masterpost) - Part 3: Libration

Rating: NSFW - minors go away i mean it Genre: best friend's older brother!au, angst smut fluff trifecta Pairing: Seokjin x female reader Beta team: @yoongiphoria, @here2bbtstrash, @kookstempo

Summary: You can count on two things in life. One: that your lifelong best friend Minji will always be there for you, in your corner, your brightest star. Two: that you'll never be free from her older brother Seokjin's orbit - the gravitational pull is just too strong.

Warnings: language, drinking, angst, kissing, implied protected s*x/ kind of the immediate aftermath to it, TIME JUMPS, boners lol, nip stim, groping, fingering, explicit protected s*x, multiple orgasms (f. receiving), dom reader but barely, reader on top WC: 14k

Part 3: Libration

Libration: (noun) A slight tilting of the Moon over time that brings parts of the Moon that are normally obscured into view

For his entire life, Seokjin’s fingers had begged to reach for you. If he was practiced at anything, a master of any skill, it was holding them still, tamping them down, busying them with game controls or swiping a screen to stop them on their pilgrimage towards yours.

He’d almost told you so many times. Without fail, every single time, he’d chicken out.

Like the morning his dad had driven him to campus for the first time, the car loaded up with everything he wanted to bring along. It was one of those late summer days, the whole season setting like the sun. It felt like endings. Seokjin had been really in his feelings about it, to be honest.

He’d leaned against the car, arms crossed, as you stood staring back at him. Waiting. Waiting to say goodbye.

Your whole lives, you’d never asked him for anything, just stayed constant and steady in his life. Not a lot of things felt steady in his life - hadn’t since he’d lost his mom back when Jungkook was a baby. But you did. You were unwavering, just there when he needed calm, consistency, dependability. Seokjin usually leaned into the chaos of his life, of his siblings, of his sometimes noisy and goofy personality. But when he needed it - the quiet retreat - somehow he always pictured you. Like you were his quiet place.

You were standing there, waiting for something before he left this small town for bigger and better things, and he was stalling.

What could he say to you as a goodbye?

Would don’t forget me make him seem too pathetic? God, yeah, it sounded like he was dying. He was a nineteen year old moving away to college, not the ghost of a murder victim whispering avenge me into the wind. For fuck’s sake.

Come visit? That was less dramatic - more direct. It said what he wanted… for you to stay in his life, stay in his universe. That was good, that would work.

He was just working up the courage to say it when you seemed to give up on him, shifting your weight and asking, “See you at Christmas?”

Disgusted with himself, he’d nodded mutely. You’re an idiot, Seokjin, he thought, watching you disappear into his father’s house.

Another opportunity wasted. Another trip around the sun - without you - stuttering to a start.

–

It was hard to be around you. Maybe that was pitiful but it was Seokjin’s truth.

Still, every time he came home from university and saw you again, it always felt the same. It surprised him every time, caught him off-guard. It felt like getting slammed with damn, I’m happy to see you again, damn, I didn’t realize how much I’d missed you, damn, you look good these days.

And that’s where it crashed to a halt. It was a dead-end, just like the one you both grew up on. He couldn’t go there. Minji would destroy his life if he got entangled with her best friend, he was sure of it. Plus, you were in different cities for college, living separate lives. Your future paths weren’t meant to intersect. It just didn’t make sense to start something that could just end up ruining things between everyone, including you and Minji’s friendship.

So, at your parents’ Christmas Eve dinner his senior year, when he was twenty-one and you were nineteen, he stayed holed up in the living room with Jungkook, avoiding you entirely. He stood at the side of the room, bored and wishing he were home with a game instead of avoiding eye contact with all the real adults around him. He sent Jungkook into the kitchen to get him a beer, knowing if he went in there himself he’d stay. Nothing good could come of it.

He still found himself staring at you through the doorway as you sat next to his sister in the kitchen, your laugh bouncing out to him. He wanted so badly to join you, to be the one making you laugh as he had almost his whole life.

You were a supernova, exploding before his eyes, but he couldn’t look away. When you’d looked up and caught him staring, he felt himself flush from head to toe.

He had to stay away from you; it was the only way to stay sane.

The next morning he’d woken early, dehydration toying with him, sending him scavenging to the kitchen in search of water, or something caffeinated.

The universe laughed at him long and loud, and placed you in his kitchen, in thin, pink and grey pajamas that barely covered your ass, did nothing to hide your tits. You’d crossed your arms self-consciously, and Seokjin hurried to face the sink, filling the kettle as a distraction, so that you wouldn’t spot his semi.

He could feel your eyes on him, the air between you rife with tension, and he dreaded whatever it was you were going to say, or ask him - dreaded the moment he’d have to turn around to answer you to avoid looking rude.

Instead, you spared him, vanishing back down the hallway as silently as you’d come. He’d heaved a sigh, running a palm down his hardening dick for relief, and headed for the bathroom. It was cold shower o’clock, apparently.

–

He graduated the following May, moved back home. Prepared resumes and cover letters and started sending them out by the dozens. Prayed someone, anyone, would hire him.

His dad threw him a graduation party, even though Seokjin told him over and over again that he didn’t want or need it. The house full of people - all there to see him, to ask him what his plans were when he had none - stressed him out.

He’d stuck to Jungkook all day, his safety blanket. It shouldn’t be like that - Jungkook was the baby, and an introvert, too. But having Jungkook as a buffer helped Jin feel less looked at, helped keep his neck from flushing deep red all day long. And Jungkook was a good brother - he understood, without them even talking about it. He stayed close, talked to all the relatives cheerfully, bunny nose scrunching as he smiled. Not like Minji, terrible sister, who abandoned him to die with all the aunts and uncles and cousins, disappearing into the house.

Even with the Jungkook buffer, he could only take so much. By nine o’clock, as the sky darkened slowly, the blues leaking away and turning inkier, his social battery was shot. A lot of the attendees had said their goodbyes by then, and he felt like it was safe for him to slip away.

He retreated to his own room, flopping onto his bed and pulling up a webtoon that had updated the day before. He’d been saving it for a time of need. Like now.

He wasn’t sure how he got clued into your presence in the hallway - you hadn’t made any noise. But he’d spotted you, called your name. His heart raced with possibility when you tentatively stepped into the dark of his room.

When you asked - voice small, unsure - if you could join him, he’d gone stupid, hadn’t even been able to think of the word “yes”. He’d had to answer by moving over to make room for you, hoping you’d understand.

You laying next to him, even with the space between you, felt amazing. Seokjin scrolled the webtoon every time you said “okay,” but he didn’t read a word of it. All he could focus on was stopping the words from tumbling from his mouth, stopping himself from throwing his phone across the room and rolling to cover your body with his own.

He kept it in check until he heard your breathing deepen. He glanced down to confirm - you’d fallen asleep. He clicked his phone screen off, his arms aching from holding it aloft for so long. Then he lay there, taking in the silence, watching your face as you dreamed. Ever so softly, he’d reached out a tentative finger and brushed it along your cheek. He had let himself touch you so few times, even in small, innocent ways. This felt like a rich indulgence, like the treat of all treats.

Smiling, chest feeling so full something might crack, he’d closed his eyes, eventually falling asleep by matching his breathing to yours, inhale to inhale, exhale to exhale.

He woke up sometime before dawn, jumping in his sleep. Something had alarmed him, told his brain there was danger. It was still very dark in his room, the only light coming from under his door from the hallway. You’d turned away from him in your sleep, your feet resting lightly on his shins, your legs curled.

Seokjin smiled, reached to brush your hair away from your face. When you didn’t stir, he got comfortable again, rolling to face your back, gingerly reaching an arm over you and letting his hand rest on the mattress near your stomach. In your sleep, you pressed back against him, shuffling into his embrace, then stilling again. He fell back to sleep breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

When he woke up for real, long after sunrise, you were gone, his bed empty. He checked his phone almost frantically, but you hadn’t texted.

He spent all day agonizing over it - should he reach out? Did he need to apologize? Were you freaking out, did you need him to tell you to breathe, that it was okay? But in the end, he said nothing, afraid anything he sent would just make things worse.

–

Jin spent the eve of his twenty-third birthday at a bar. You and Minji (and Jungkook, that year) were away at school for a few more weeks before winter break would begin. It was loud and crowded, the walls adorned with street signs and sardonic posters, neon beer signs, a few backlit clocks that all read different times. He threw back shots, paid for none of them as the birthday boy, surrounded by friends from college and home.

His phone buzzed at midnight on the dot, as the friends around him cheered and pounded him on the back. When he saw your name on his screen, everyone around him fell away, like they didn’t even exist. Ignored everyone around him, sat and blatantly texted you back, unashamed to be neglecting his own celebration.

Getting baja blasted with your sister, you’d sent him, and he had laughed out loud at the bar, pressing fingers to his eyes as if he could erase the mental picture, shoulders still shaking.

“What’s wrong?” someone asked him, peering over his shoulder.

“Yah,” he’d said, still laughing. “Baja blasted, is that what the kids are calling it these days? Am I that old, already, one minute into my twenty-third year?”

They’d laughed, reading the text, ribbing him about Minji’s delinquent college behavior. One of his friends, a girl with shoulder-length dark red hair, had sent him a sideways look. “This girl is texting you at midnight for your birthday, huh?” she’d asked, lips pursing with amusement. “You know what that means.”

“What does that mean?” Jin echoed, turning to face her, and her smile had grown, a gotcha.

“The only time I’ve ever done that in my life,” she told him, “is for my best friend, or for my boyfriends.”

They’d teased him about his red ears for the next hour and a half.

–

Back to avoiding, back to trying to bury it deep down. Back to failing miserably.

You and Minji lounged in the backyard, your conversation floating in low murmurs up through the open windows as Seokjin sat at the kitchen table, scrolling on his phone.

He heard only snippets - I broke up with that guy, I just wasn’t feeling it.

Immediately interested, he rose, drifting towards the open kitchen window, ears perked.

“No one sticks,” Minji said. “I worry about you.”

“None of them were right,” you told her. “Someone will be.”

“How will you know when it’s right?”

And then the door slammed open, causing Seokjin to jump in his skin.

You’d been pissed, eyes narrowed, voice tight as you accused him of listening in. But Seokjin could only think about what he’d heard, how he’d wondered the same thing over these years.

Time to stop chickening out. “How come no one sticks?” he asked.

“What?”

He spoke slowly, deliberately. “Why haven’t any of the guys you’ve dated lasted?”

He needed to know. He needed to know - what was the reason? Were you both wasting time, revolving idly in place? Could it be possible that you, like him, hadn’t been willing to give someone else a chance if it meant jeopardizing this, even if “this” was practically nothing?

“What am I supposed to say to that? Jin, what do I say to that?” You’d looked absolutely shattered, and he couldn’t help but step closer, reach for your hand. It was cool in his, and he felt like he was holding something fragile - like his touch could cause it to crumble into dust if he wasn’t gentle enough.

Say you want me, he wanted to say.

Maybe you would have.

But Minji - terrible sister - had ruined his life, coming through the kitchen door, already talking at the top of her lungs. Jin had made his escape as soon as he could, vanishing down the hallway towards his room.

He moved out - far away, an airplane ride away to a new skyline and a new job - six months later.

–

Twenty-six hadn’t started great for Seokjin. Normally he was a fan of having his birthday in December, during the start of the Christmas season. When he was a kid, it had felt like all the lights and decorations were a bit for him. But since moving to his new city three years prior, working his new job, the holidays were more of a hassle. Amazing how airports can ruin a good thing.

Case in point - his flight got delayed because of a snowstorm. Only by two hours, and he didn’t have to make a connection, so all things considered it wasn’t the end of the world. But he did miss Christmas Eve dinner at your parents’ house.

He’d called Minji from the airport after he landed, as he waited at baggage claim.

“Come anyway,” she’d begged him. “We never see you. Y/N’s parents have asked about you a hundred and fifty times.”

In retrospect, it might have been nice if Minji had mentioned that you had a boyfriend with you. Just as a little heads up. But Minji was a terrible sister. Or maybe the problem was that she had no idea Seokjin would even care.

Either way, it had ended like this.

His taxi had pulled up outside his dad’s house. He’d dragged his suitcase up the walk and through the front door, leaving it unceremoniously next to the couch to wait for him. He’d checked his hair in the decorative mirror near the front door and slipped back outside, heading to the brightly lit house across the street.

He’d shaken his hands as he walked, trying to get the nerves to fly from his fingers. It’s like they knew you were close.

He’d let himself into your parents’ house, instrumental Christmas music and loud conversations hitting him the second the door opened an inch.

Minji had cried, “Jinnie!” and he’d looked up from taking his boots off. His eyes had found you immediately, near the side of the crowded room. You were leaning comfortably against a man.

A man. A man who took one look at Seokjin, then down at your face, and then reached an arm around your waist. He pulled you in, making you hop a little as you were pulled off-balance.

Seokjin’s stomach had twisted, and he’d felt almost like he would be sick, like he was suddenly hungover without drinking a drop.

He’d had to pull it together. He’d stepped inside, accepting Minji’s enthusiastic hug. Terrible sister, trying to hug him when he was having a meltdown. He’d given you a quick one-arm almost-hug, fingers hovering over your shoulder, not even daring to touch you. He’d smiled wide when you’d introduced “my boyfriend, Daniel”, shook the guy’s hand and tried not to squeeze it too aggressively.

Boyfriend. He really did want to throw up. When he’d asked you why no one stuck, he hadn’t thought you’d take it as a dare.

He’d extracted himself from the group and went to find his dad and your parents, to say hello. Then he’d hidden with Jungkook for the rest of the night. History repeats itself, and all that.

It was a little funny, in hindsight. He’d been nearly sick over the boyfriend. But he’d met Chelsea less than two months later.

–

He’d met Chelsea at work when he was twenty-six. She was contracted by the company for a job, short-term - not a coworker. She was pretty, competent. Seokjin had felt weird, for a second, when he caught himself watching her walk away from his desk one morning, her ponytail swinging behind her. But then he’d pictured Daniel’s arm around your waist at Christmas.

What are you doing? he’d asked himself. All the years he’d spent just outside your reach seemed to hover before him like a planetary alignment. Where had it gotten either of you? Maybe you were the smarter one, the braver one. He was thinking of the time he’d asked why none of your boyfriends lasted - but at least you were out there trying. He couldn’t really say the same thing. He’d had his fun through college, certainly. But he’d known every time that his heart wasn’t in it.

Maybe it was time to try.

He’d caught her in the break room on her last day of the project. She’d blushed when he asked her out, her smile more surprised than anything else. Their first date had gone well. Their third date had gone even better.

He didn’t go home that summer. Things with Chelsea fell into place - pieces clicking together the way they were supposed to in adult relationships. They’d agreed to start being exclusive. She’d called him her boyfriend on the phone with her best friend Lara, lounging on his couch one afternoon, and he’d looked up from the game he was playing, fingers frozen on the controls, eyes wide.

After she’d hung up, she’d asked, “Was that not okay? We’ve been exclusive for months, it just… felt kind of natural.”

“No,” he’d assured her, reaching out and placing a hand on her knee. She’d covered it with her own, looking at him through her lashes, waiting for his answer. “It was okay. I was just surprised.”

She’d moved in before the leaves started to turn, half of his closet suddenly full of blouses and skirts, oat milk in his fridge where there used to be beer bottles, tampon boxes under his sink where there used to be cleaning supplies.

Warm smiles when he’d make a stupid pun. Slender fingers in his during evening walks. Breathy whispers when they were tangled together in the dark.

Demands of “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” after long meetings at work. Silence from the other side of the couch over a slight he couldn’t even name. The scratchy material of the couch cushions after a night ejected from his own bed.

The leaves turned. Fell. Blew away.

Soft murmurs of concern when he’d tell about a bad day. Bursting into laughter after saying the same thing at the same time, following it with, “We’re turning into each other.” Coming home to find his favorite snacks in the cabinets, his laundry folded on the end of the bed.

A hollow feeling in the pit of Seokjin’s stomach the first time she whispered, “I think I’m in love with you.”

The taste of battery acid on his tongue when he lied to her face and told her he was, too.

They broke up three days before Christmas. It was too late to get a flight.

Seokjin spent the holidays alone.

Twenty-seven sucked worse than twenty-six.

She showed up three weeks into January, peering up at him through red-rimmed eyes. “Do you th-think…” she’d asked, voice wavering, after pouring out apology after apology, “maybe we could try again?”

Maybe I can love her, he’d thought. He’d hoped.

They broke up again before the end of February. Got back together in April after Seokjin called her, drunk and lonely. Broke up again in July after she smashed one of his favorite coffee mugs on the kitchen floor and screamed at him that he was a liar. Made up in September and somehow managed to hang on through the fall.

The night of Seokjin’s twenty-eighth birthday, he couldn’t sleep. He had lain there, awake in the dark, listening to her breathing beside him, slow and even.

He’d reached out and smoothed her hair down, run a hand down her arm. She’d wiggled into his touch, her breathing taking a moment to even out again.

Feel something, he’d begged himself, suddenly on the verge of frustrated, furious tears. Feel something for her. Why couldn’t he? What was wrong with him? Was he broken, doomed? Was this all he’d get out of life - this push and pull of ocean tides, sometimes drowning and other times left to cook in the sun? Her need for his love like a black hole, pulling and pulling, taking and taking?

“I think we should take a break,” he’d told her in the morning, before his alarm even went off. “I think I need some time to figure things out.”

“Figure out what?” she’d asked, tears already rolling down her cheeks. “I thought we were fine, Seokjin. I thought this time we were fine.”

“Let’s talk after the holidays,” he’d suggested. “I’ll go spend some time with my dad and my siblings… let’s see how we feel.”

“See how we feel?” she’d echoed hollowly. “I know how I feel. You’re the giant question mark here.”

It had felt less like a slap and more like a fact. Seokjin couldn’t even fault her for it when it was so true.

So, at twenty-eight, he’d gone home for Christmas, alone, on a “break”.

When you showed up on New Year’s Eve, it felt like you were sent specifically to torture him. To test him.

And he had really, spectacularly flunked the test.

But seeing you again, for the first time in two years, had given him every right answer. You’d stood next to Minji, helping her slice lemons, and Seokjin had sat at the kitchen table nursing a beer and listening to you two rib each other. He’d felt it - peace, calm, his quiet place. That happiness that rose up in him every time you returned to his life, or he returned to yours. That overwhelming something that had always been there, hovering in the background, whenever he was around you. The desire to make you laugh, to find little ways to touch you, the need to feel your eyes on him now.

It was overwhelming. It was too much. It was too many feelings, all at once.

He’d never felt this for Chelsea. Not even a fraction of it. But he’d felt like this about you his whole life and had never had something to hold up next to it for comparison.

He loved you. That was the answer.

He’d tried to keep his distance anyway that night - for all the old reasons. Minji. Different lives in different cities. His uncertainty about how you felt.

And Chelsea, blowing up his phone in real time, asking him when he was flying home and if she could see him right away when he did.

He left her on read. He followed you out on the back deck. He’d called you beautiful and watched the last pane of glass keeping you from him shatter into pieces and fall to the ground, leaving his feet bloody and his heart singing as he finally, finally got to hold you in his arms the right way, as he’d finally, finally gotten to press his mouth to yours, taste you, feel you, have you.

Everything was beyond his wildest fantasies - and he’d imagined this plenty over the last seven years. Every bit of skin he got to slide his fingers over, every sigh and gasp you made against his mouth, the feel of your slick heat wrapped around his fingers, the feel of your spasming cunt milking every last drop from him. The look in your eyes as he set you down again, made sure your legs were steady - like he’d hung the moon for you.

Guilt and nausea rocked through him. Sure, they were on a break, but Chelsea was waiting for an answer from him, was at that exact moment trying to talk to him about their relationship. His phone burned a hole in his pocket as it buzzed incessantly against his still-quivering thigh. He should have waited - he should have handled his shit first. You deserved better.

You deserved better than every part of this.

Outside, hurried, in the freezing cold, against the side of his house? That was wrong. You should have had a first time together where he could take his time, worship every part of you, relax and communicate about what you like.

And in secret? Minji was still inside, a problem unsolved. If this was starting, if Seokjin was getting his chance with you, then he needed to deal with that problem first. Minji needed to be set straight. And, at the same time, she deserved to find out the right way, too.

And… what did you want? He should have talked to you, he should have told you he liked you before sleeping with you, he should have asked what you wanted this to be before either of you could get their feelings twisted.

He’d fucked this up. He’d done it all wrong. You deserved so much better than whatever childish bullshit this situation was. He needed to deal with Chelsea. He needed to tell Minji that his business was his business. He needed to talk to you about your feelings.

But one problem at a time. Starting right then.

“You probably shouldn’t come in right after me,” he’d told you, and hurried away, already fishing his phone from his pocket. Inside, he’d slipped into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He’d dialed Chelsea’s number before the latch even clicked.

“Jin?” she’d answered, sounding tearful already. He felt that squeeze of guilt again - she’d been home, crying, wanting to work it out with him. And he’d been buried in you. What kind of asshole does that? “Where are you?”

“My dad’s house, like I said I’d be,” he’d said, more coldly than he’d meant. He took a breath, pinched the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t her fault - none of it was. It wasn’t her fault he couldn’t love her, it wasn’t her fault she wasn’t you, it wasn’t her fault he’d been too hasty and messed things up with you. “Listen. I know we said we’d talk when I came home but… a few days isn’t going to make the difference. I’m done, Chels. I’m sorry. I’m done for real, this time.”

Her silence stretched so long that Seokjin pulled the phone away from his face to check the screen, to make sure the call hadn’t dropped.

Finally, after a shuddering breath, she’d managed, “But why?”

Seokjin had pressed his cool knuckles to his burning forehead and closed his eyes. “Because. If I was going to love you, I’d know by now. I know how it should feel and it just… doesn’t. It just doesn’t.”

When he’d returned to the party, he’d scanned the rooms at a clip, eyes roving the crowd for your familiar form. He passed through the kitchen, the living room, even tried Minji’s room and the basement. You were nowhere to be found.

He typed over a dozen texts to you - where did you go, are you okay, come talk to me, did you leave, i have something i need to tell you. He deleted all of them. His thumb hovered over your picture in his contacts, as he tried to imagine what he’d say if you actually answered.

In the end, he fell asleep at the kitchen table, his phone in his hand. He woke up late, hungover, unprepared for his flight. He’d barely made it - Mr. Kim had sped the whole way to the airport, and they’d been calling his name over the loudspeaker when Seokjin jogged up to his gate.

He checked his phone desperately when the plane landed, hoping to see your name on his screen.

No luck.

Eventually, enough time passed that Seokjin felt… well, stupid even bringing it up. If you’d wanted to talk about it, you could have, right? It must have been just a hook-up to you, just a bit of fun at a party.

Seokjin lied to himself, told himself it didn’t matter, told himself he didn’t care. He spent the night of a full moon boxing up Chelsea’s shit and sent it in the mail.

–

It’s something Seokjin tries hard to hide about himself. He laughs loud, makes dumb jokes, wrestles Jungkook in public, tries to control the narrative. Tries to keep anyone from looking too closely.

He doesn’t want them to know he’s so afraid, that his fear is often the boss of him.

It’s fear that kept him from calling you after that night, fear that kept him from reaching out when he was twenty-one and you fell asleep in his bed, fear that kept him from telling you the truth when he was eighteen and graduating high school.

He’d sat at the end of his dad’s driveway in the dark, his party carrying on inside without him, wishing he could run - from his future, from his life stretching out ahead of him like a thin path through a sea of fog. He wanted to hit pause, wanted to stay here, wanted everything to stay just the same. He wanted to wake up in his father’s house, bicker with Minji and Jungkook over meals, hear the familiar sound of your voice calling hello from the front door.

Instead, he was about to walk away from all of that.

“Are you scared?” you’d asked him, appearing out of the dark like a damn apparition.

Seokjin had laughed to hide how very dead-on you were. “Me?” he asked, as if it were ridiculous. As if he weren’t always scared, but doing what he was supposed to do in spite of it. “Never.”

And you had smiled at him indulgently, like you knew better. “About what? What’s the biggest thing?”

Losing you.

He doesn’t even know what bullshit answer he gave you. Whatever it was, it wasn’t the truth.

Seokjin stands in the middle of the street watching your tail lights disappear, cast in red and shadows and regret.

All that… it doesn’t matter now…

It didn’t mean anything…

I never got to tell you to your face that you’re an asshole…

You were out of your head… to make a mistake like me…

I can’t do this again… I think it’ll kill me if I do…

He doesn’t even bother to tell his family he’s going somewhere. He gets into his car, the stereo blaring to life as it connects to his phone, then takes off across town.

Towards the swanky apartments.

–

Your phone rings, and rings, and rings, and rings.

You know you could just turn it off - a normal person would just turn it off.

You’re home again, on your couch with a blanket wrapped around you, lights down low, feeling sorry for yourself. Your phone screen lights up on the coffee table before you, then goes dark as the call goes to voicemail.

Then it lights up again, rattling as it vibrates. Goes dark. Lights up again.

You snap on the ninth call.

“Oh my God, what?” you demand. “I don’t want to talk to you!”

“Which one’s yours?” Jin asks, his voice small against your ear.

“What?”

“Which apartment’s yours?”

“Fuck off, Seokjin,” you tell him firmly. “I said I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I’ll start ringing doorbells,” he threatens. “I have a lot of time to spare.”

You fall silent, considering this. He would ring every doorbell in the whole damn complex if it helped him win.

“How’d you even know where to go?” you ask instead.

“You told me it was the one we used to trick-or-treat at,” he explains.

This deflates you a little bit. With a sigh, you tell him your apartment number.

“See you in a minute,” he tells you, and hangs up.

“But I don’t want to talk to you,” you whisper, defeated, at no one. It’s only moments later that he pounds on your door. Resigned, you shuffle to the door, the blanket still wrapped around you like armor.

“What do you want, Seokjin?” you ask flatly. “I told you, I can’t do this.”

“Define this,” he says, and there’s something gentle in the request.

“Make the same mistakes over and over,” you clarify. “Get nowhere. Gain nothing. Hurt.”

“You keep saying mistake,” he murmurs. He lifts his eyes to meet yours, and you take a step away when they do, knocked physically backwards by how broken he looks. “Can we talk?” he asks. “Can I come in?”

You purse your lips but step aside, letting him inside, letting the door close behind him. “We can talk,” you allow, mostly because he’d looked so devastated, and you feel guilty about it. “But you’d better keep your hands to yourself.”

You settle back down on the couch, and Jin perches at the edge of a wingback chair on the opposite side.

You look at each other silently for a minute. Then, you grumble, “You can get more comfortable than that.”

He scoots back less than an inch, looking at you expectantly.

“What?” You snap - again. You’re so on edge you think you might shatter. “You wanted to talk, so what are you looking at me for? Talk!”

He looks at his hands, then back at you. “I apologized without explaining,” he says slowly. “But I think you really need both.”

“You explained plenty,” you say, biting the words off before they can hurt you. “You were in a bad place -.”

“I didn’t mean that,” he cuts you off firmly. “What I meant is - I mean - that wasn’t the right way to say it. I didn’t mean… I wasn’t saying my head wasn’t in the right place. I wasn’t trying to imply that I was… fucked up, or upset, or anything like that. I made the choices I made with you that night because I wanted to, and I don’t regret them.”

You look at him, frozen. You feel too frozen to even breathe. “...Then?”

“It’s killing me,” he says, and has to stop and clear his throat as his voice breaks. He heaves a heavy breath and tries again. You wait him out, heart thudding, palms sweating. “It’s killing me to hear you keep calling it a mistake. Because it wasn’t, to me.”

All you can do is stare. You feel like you understand nothing.

“But,” you try. “What? You never - we didn’t talk, after? After - after - you just left, you disappeared and left me outside in the dark, alone.”

You didn’t mean the words to come out like an accusation, but they hit Seokjin like a slap. You watch him actually recoil, grimacing like he feels the sting across his cheek.

You watch as a cloud of shame settles over his features.

“I know I messed it up,” he admits. “I knew it that night. I should have talked to you first. But I… at the time, I felt like I had… loose ends that I needed to tie up first.”

Your eyes narrow, suspicious. “Loose ends like what?”

His eyes drop to the floor and he whispers, “I had to break up with my ex-girlfriend.”

“Kim Seokjin!” you exclaim in horror, a hand coming to cover your mouth. “Did you cheat on somebody with me?”

“No, no!” he says quickly, hands coming up defensively. “I promise, it wasn’t like that. My ex and I… we had agreed to take a break before I came home that Christmas. But I still felt like… I felt like I did something really wrong. And then I didn’t want to talk to you about it - about what’s next or anything - until I’d told her that I was out… really out.”

“I don’t understand,” you tell him. Your head is spinning, trying desperately to make sense of what he’s telling you.

Seokjin sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “I shouldn’t have just walked away from you,” he says, and there’s something almost pleading in his voice - just barely. “I thought I could go deal with her and then talk to you - but you were gone.”

“You could have called. You could have texted. You could have walked the twenty feet across the fucking street, Seokjin -.”

“I know!” he bursts out, leaning forward, his eyes on your face, desperate. “I know I should have! I was just - I wasn’t thinking straight, I was spiraling -.”

“Sure,” you interrupt flatly. “Toeing the line with infidelity will do that to a person -.”

“It wasn’t from that,” he snaps. He stands, walks to your balcony door, seems to stare down his own reflection. His ears are red - frustration, this time.

When he turns around, he’s calmer again. “It wasn’t because of that,” he repeats more quietly. “It was because you walked into my dad’s house that night and I was suddenly face-to-face with the fact that for the first time in my life, I had a name for what I feel for you.”

Silence crashes between you. You find yourself also standing, the blanket you were wrapped in falling half on the couch and half on the floor. You stare at him wildly, hands shaking at your sides. It takes everything in you to not just utter, “Huh?”

Instead, you whisper, “I think I need you to explain.”

He throws his hands up in exasperation, stalks closer to you, looms over you. “I love you,” he says plainly, and the room swings around you. “I think I always have - but I didn’t know until that night. And I didn’t want to tell you until I’d dealt with her.

“I know I messed everything up that night,” he says, eyebrows furrowed, “and I’m sorry.”

“Seokjin,” you manage, the word coming out like a gasp. “You what?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

You shake your head vehemently. “Before that.”

He steps closer, close enough to step on the blanket you’d dropped, close enough that you can feel his warmth, close enough that you could touch him if you were stupid enough to -

“I love you,” he murmurs, hovering ever closer. The words sound musical dripping from his mouth.

“How did you not know until then?” you whisper, looking up at him. “I knew when I was sixteen.”

He lets out a breath like a laugh. Your hand hesitates somewhere near his stomach. “I’m an idiot,” he explains. Then, voice deepening, he asks, “Do I still have to keep my hands to myself?”

“You’d better not,” you manage to say, and then you can’t say anything because he’s kissing you firmly, one hand on your face and the other pressing you closer by the small of your back.

It feels different to kiss him now than the first two times. The first time, two years ago, had been desperate, fast and frantic from the onset. Tonight, an hour ago, it had been laced with regret. This time feels somehow freeing. It feels like flying.

You loop your arms around his neck and try to lift yourself closer, pressing your body against his. He runs a hand down the back of your head, skims it down your spine, grips you by the waist and pulls you in tight with a deep but barely audible grunt.

You bring your hands to cup his face, pulling away from the heated kiss. “You don’t have a sort-of girlfriend I should know about this time, right?”

He huffs a laugh, nose bumping yours as he tries to get your mouth back. “Shut up,” he laughs, starting to walk you backwards towards your open bedroom door, his clever fingers finding the hem of your shirt and pulling it up over your head as you walk. You do the same, tugging his t-shirt free and tossing it on your bedroom floor.

He drinks in the sight of you, eyes burning paths along every newly bared inch of skin. His hands skim up your stomach, glide over your ribs, caress your shoulders, before finding the clasp of your bra. His eyes find yours, silently asking.

You give him a nod, your own hands tracing the lightly defined muscles along his stomach, making him shiver. He pinches the clasp, guides the straps down your goosebump covered arms, looks at you with nothing less than wonder. Then, gently, he covers your tits with both large hands, thumbs stroking the soft skin they find before moving to lightly roll each nipple once.

You close your eyes and keen a little, just a tiny noise, and let him explore you. You hadn’t taken off your top last time - it had been so quick, desperate.

But thinking about last time has you needy as you remember just how fucking good Jin’s cock had felt, how perfect the stretch was, how every drag of him made your eyes roll back. You kiss him again, feverish, as he continues to toy with you. A tiny part of you thrills at the forbidden aspect of this - this is Jin with his hand on your tit, Jin tugging you closer by your waistband, Jin pressing himself hot and hard against your leggings, Jin groaning into your mouth when you pop the button on his jeans and slip your hand into his boxers, stroking him to full length. You hadn’t touched him, last time – not like this. He’s hot and heavy and thick, velvet soft against your palm as you work him base to tip again and again, delighting in the low grunts and catches in his breath your fingers elicit.

You finally whine, throbbing and tingling and desperate for more, and he laughs against your neck and hooks his thumbs under your waistband and peels off your leggings, using the opportunity to back you up until you’re sitting on your bed with a bounce. He lets his own jeans drop to the floor and crawls over you; your hands come to his jaw as he kisses you ferociously, like he can’t think of anything else - not food, not water, not air - just your mouth.

Then he moves his mouth to your neck, sucking lightly and then soothing over the spots with gentle kisses. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” he whispers. “It feels kind of surreal.”

“What about -,” you breathe.

“Last time doesn’t count,” he growls, and slides his hand over your mound, fingers skimming over your clothed clit and pressing your panties against your opening. You squirm against him, trying to increase the pressure, wanting him inside more than you want anything.

“Please,” you murmur.

“Please what?” he asks, pushing himself up to look down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Need more,” you gasp, still pushing back against his fingers. Even over your panties, they slide along your slickness. “Need to feel you.”

All his breath leaves him in a rush when you say this, and you lift up a little to help him slide your panties down your legs. You try to reach for him, fingers glancing along the fabric of his boxers, but your brain loses all sense of purpose as Seokjin sinks two fingers into you, pumping them casually a few times before crooking them and rubbing them firmly against your front wall.

The sound you make comes from deep within you, a low groan echoing around you as your eyes flutter closed.

He’s lying alongside you and you bury your face in his chest as he works you open. Sounds fall from your mouth, sharp and desperate, as the pressure in your lower belly tightens and tightens, as sparks flash behind your eyelids, as your toes curl and feet press into the mattress frantically. You can feel him pressing insistently against your leg as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, and it’s this fact that sends you spiraling, uttering his name through gritted teeth as every muscle goes impossibly tight.

He kisses you sweetly as you come down from it, slowly pulling his fingers from you and reaching around to grab a handful of your ass as the kiss naturally deepens, as he falls into it, head first.

You’re still half floating when he removes himself, and you hear the shuffle of fabric as he digs through his pants, and then a telltale thump as he tosses his wallet back into the clothing pile. He returns, kisses you again, tweaking a nipple and eliciting a whine from you.

“You good?” he breathes, lips barely centimeters from yours.

“‘M good,” you manage, gripping his forearms in preparation for the stretch, for the burn, for the deluge of sensation.

He pushes into you slowly, sheathing himself completely with a deep groan from within his chest.

“You feel so good,” he tells you, punctuating this with a quick nip on your jaw, before starting to roll his hips. You moan once, loud, head flopping back as his cock drags against your already-sensitive, still-fluttering walls.

Everything’s different this time. It feels like leisure, it feels like luxury - to get to reach up and kiss him, his lips firm and grounding as the slide of him sends you floating. Luxury, to get to run your hands along the bare skin of his arms, shoulders, and back. Luxury to dig your nails in just a little bit when his angle shifts, to hear his breathing hitch when you do. Luxury to lean back and meet his eyes, burning on yours, fire and love and happiness and passion swimming in them, beneath his furrowed brow, knit in concentration.

You feel so full of him, it’s like he’s touching everywhere, all of you all at once. He brushes a hand down the side of your face, so gently, then slides it under your ass to adjust the angle again.

“Fuck, oh my god,” you utter, shifting to take him even deeper. “What the fuck.”

“Good,” he whispers, slowing his pace and pushing into you purposefully, pausing each time he’s buried as far as he can be, feeling you clench around him before dragging out again, steady.

You’re temple to temple, his breath huffs and gasps near your ear. You cling to him tightly, white-knuckled as you try to take everything he gives you. You groan in mingled unison when he speeds up again, pushing himself up onto his knees and grabbing your waist as leverage, pulling you to meet every thrust.

“Oh -,” you gasp, surprised by the intensity, surprised by how quickly you can feel yourself unraveling a second time, “- god, Jin, fuck, holy shit -.”

“That’s right,” he coaxes, voice deep and honeyed, an entirely new sound to him. “Tell me. What is it, beautiful?”

“I - I can’t,” you gasp, eyes screwing shut, fingers gripping the blanket beneath you so hard that an absent part of your brain worries it’ll tear. “I’m gonna come again - Jin -.”

“Yes you can,” he soothes, and his thumb suddenly on your clit almost has you shooting off the bed, a scream caught in your throat. “Give me another one.”

The pressure is blinding, your muscles so tight that you know you’ll be sore, and though you can’t see anything but bursts of color through your tightly closed eyes, you can hear Seokjin swear fiercely before a low, wordless moan is tugged from him as he tries to hold on through your orgasm.

As you blink your way back to reality, Jin lowers his forehead to yours and doubles his pace, hips slapping your ass, uttering sounds that are increasingly desperate and broken - half-formed syllables of your name, something that might be please, ragged groans that cut off mid-way as gasps, only to begin again on his exhale. His arms cage you in and you feel yourself floating higher with him surrounding you, keeping everything else at bay.

His arms tighten around you when he comes, breathing out a loud, strangled, “ahhhhh -” as he empties himself inside you, his fingers twitching and pace faltering. He slows, his heart hammering inches from yours, then flops next to you, breathing heavily. He pats your thigh fondly, as if to say, good work, then scans the room. Finding what he was looking for - a small wastebasket under your desk - he staggers over to handle the condom before dropping heavily next to you again, eyes closed as he catches his breath.

“Seokjin,” you murmur, fingers finding his and lacing them together. “Don’t leave again. Okay? Don’t leave me, now.”

He rolls to face you, his hand coming to tug you closer, into his embrace.

“Never,” he promises, lips against your hair, his arms around your back, his heart racing yours towards a finish line neither of you can clearly see. “I swear. Never again.”

–

He does leave, a few hours later, apologizing over and over again.

“Dad’s doing pretty well during the day now,” he explains as he gets dressed gingerly. “But at night he has trouble - after sleeping he gets stiff and has trouble getting up without some help. Or, his ice bag melts and he can’t get downstairs to change it out. I texted him that I’d be back, but that was hours ago.”

“Go,” you tell him. “I understand.”

You do - of course you do. But it doesn’t stop you from being a little nervous when he slips out your front door, leaving you alone in the silence of your apartment. You’re too hyped up to sleep. You strip the bed, throwing the sheets in a hamper and putting on new ones, and go to shower. When you emerge, warm and finally sleepy, you get into bed and turn off your lamp, grabbing your phone to scroll until your eyes are heavy.

[12:14 AM] Jin 😎: home. dad’s fine. let’s talk tmrw?

You smile, typing an answer, illuminated by your phone screen.

[12:36 AM] You: glad to hear it. yeah, sounds good

You’re not sure how to leave it. Would a heart be too much? He’d said he loved you… but what is this now? Where do you go from here? What are the boundaries, what are the rules?

You fall asleep without answers.

In the morning, your alarm ringing feels like your own personal torture in hell. You’re sore from head to toe, like you knew you would be. You take a longer, hotter shower than normal, hoping the hot water will soothe your aching muscles. It helps, but only a little.

You’re absent-minded at work all morning, messing up multiple times and yawning so loudly that Dale actually asks you if you want him to go grab you some coffee from the break room.

“No,” you say sheepishly. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep well.”

Salvation comes in the form of a text message, about an hour before your lunch break.

[11:27 AM] Jin 😎: good morningggg [11:27 AM] You: i mean, barely [11:27 AM] You: it’s almost noon, sir [11:28 AM] Jin 😎: excuse you [11:28 AM] Jin 😎: some of us need our beauty sleep

You laugh out loud, Dale shooting you another look over his shoulder.

[11:28 AM] Jin 😎: come over tonight [11:29 AM] Jin 😎: i want to cook you dinner [11:29 AM] Jin 😎: my dad will be up but we can be normal… he’ll go to bed by 9 anyway [11:29 AM] You: my parents will see my car outside [11:30 AM] Jin 😎: i’ll come get you then. be there at 6?

You agree, and manage to actually do a few productive things with your afternoon, now that there’s a solid plan for later, now that you aren’t wondering if Seokjin will manage to vanish from your life for another two years.

You feel guilty for worrying about it, but you can’t help yourself. You’d meant what you’d told him last night, at your car, before he’d come to your place. Having him and losing him the first time had been earth-shattering. You couldn’t do it twice.

–

Jin picks you up right when he said he would, his car idling outside your building right at six o’clock. You slide into the passenger seat and he pulls away, music playing low through the car’s speaker system.

“How was your day?” he asks, glancing over at you.

“Couldn’t focus for shit,” you admit. “I think I pissed off my teammate.”

He chuckles. “Tomorrow’s a chance to do better.”

“Don’t distract me so much tomorrow, then.”

He grins at you, obviously not sorry in the slightest. “I distracted you? We barely talked.”

You purse your lips at him playfully. “I had a lot on my mind, and all of it’s your fault.” You say it teasingly, but he goes serious.

“Let’s talk tonight,” he suggests. “After my dad goes to bed.” He reaches out, smoothes a hand down your leg, leaves it resting on your knee.

“That’s probably a good idea,” you murmur, your eyes on his hand. You’re wondering how just that - just his hand resting on your knee - can cause goosebumps to rise up and down your arms.

When Seokjin leads you into the house, Mr. Kim is awake, watching television in the living room. He seems surprised to see you, but greets you warmly.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” he asks, more polite than what are you doing here, which is probably what he wants to ask.

“Minji’s busy tonight and I needed a hand with dinner and everything,” Seokjin lies easily, slipping his shoes off. “Y/N’s doing me a huge favor. Are you good, Dad? Do you need anything?”

“New ice pack,” you answer for him, eyeing the bag of mostly water that rests on Mr. Kim’s propped-up knee. “Can I help with that?”

You change out the ice pack and rejoin Seokjin in the kitchen, where he has something simmering on the stovetop and is busy chopping something else. You sit at the table, nursing the beer he offered you, watching him work. You chat casually with him - discussing what shows you’ve been watching, gossiping about Minji’s last boyfriend, getting updates on what Jungkook is up to out west. When the meal is ready you both eat in the living room with Mr. Kim, where he peppers you with questions about your job (it’s boring), how your parents are (same ol’, same ol’), if you’re keeping Minji in line (as if anyone could).

Seokjin turns out to be right - Mr. Kim requests to go upstairs to bed before nine. Seokjin helps him up the stairs, gets him settled, and returns downstairs to find you up to your elbows in suds at the kitchen sink.

“I was going to do that,” he scolds.

You shrug. “No reason I can’t help. Dinner was delicious, by the way. I forgot how well you cook.”

“How could you forget?” he protests, moving to the fridge to get himself a beer. “I take offense to that.”

“Don’t go so long without cooking for me next time, then,” you counter playfully, wiping your hands down with a dish towel and moving to sit across the table from him.

“Live closer to my city, then,” he gives it right back.

“No, no, no,” you shake your head firmly. “You moved far. You don’t get to put that on me.”

He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. You’re tempted to crawl onto his lap and you have to squash the urge down. You’re here to talk, not to kiss.

You settle into quiet as you consider this, consider all the fears and misgivings you’d been plagued with last night and all morning.

Seokjin reaches under the table with his leg and gently kicks at your knee. “Talk to me,” he says. “Tell me what’s happening up there.” He points with the top of his beer bottle in the general direction of your head.

It makes you smile, in spite of everything.

You consider, for a second, playing it off. But you and Seokjin have circled each other for damn near a decade. Isn’t it time for some honesty? When will you ever have an open invitation like this again?

“I’m scared this is just going to be like before,” you admit. “Even if you don’t - I mean… even if you do everything right, the truth is you still have to get on a plane in less than two weeks. I just don’t see an ending here that isn’t you leaving me behind again.”

Jin lets out a long breath, his eyes on the table. “I should have asked you this a long time ago,” he says slowly, raising his eyes to meet your gaze again. “But… what do you want?”

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. You’ve never in your life, not even in your head, put words to it before. The want, the wish, it’s too much to ask for. It’s the thing you’ve spun around for your whole life, the thing whose gravitational pull keeps you in orbit, and it’s too much to look at directly.

He nudges you with his foot beneath the table again, gently. You look at your beer, condensation gathering around your fingers on the glass. He says your name softly.

“If you can’t tell me,” he points out, “then we’re really stalled out. And I don’t think that’s what either of us wants.”

It’s the encouragement you need.

“I want to be with you,” you whisper, still unable to look at him. “But I know that’s not…” Not possible. “I mean, you live so far, we both have jobs…”

He leans forward, reaching out and peeling your hand away from your glass bottle, holding your fingers tenderly. He says your name, waits until you finally look up at him.

“I’m willing to try and figure it out,” he says seriously, and you feel something inside your ribs crack and shift. Hope that you’d kept caged for your entire adult life springs to life, starts throwing itself bodily against its confines, the cracks beginning to splinter, an escape imminent.

He is? He wants that? What would that even look like? Would you be long distance? Would one of you have to move? What about Minji?

He says your name again, and you snap your eyes back up. “Let’s just…” he starts, then sighs. “I’m here for another ten days. Let’s make the most of them and see what we think closer to the end.”

It feels like delaying an execution, you think. But how do you say no? He’s offering you ten days of what you’ve always wanted - even if there’s an expiration date flashing before you, how can you possibly turn it down?

“What about Minji?” you ask, the one question you have to voice.

Across the table, his face goes tight. He withdraws his hand, picks absently at the sticker on his beer bottle. “Let’s keep her out of it until we decide what we want,” he says. Each we flies through you like lightning. “Does that seem fair? Let’s let this be about you and me, first.”

That’s fair - and it sounds good, honestly - but part of you is aware and anxious knowing this means you’ll be lying to Minji, having to hide things.

“Okay,” you say uneasily. “I guess you’re right.”

He looks over at you silently for a second. “C’mere,” he finally murmurs, scoots his chair back.

“We’ll break the chair,” you protest, even though you’re already moving, settling on his lap and reveling in the feeling of his strong arms around you, holding you closer.

“Then we break the chair,” he says easily, then kisses you deeply.

You loop your arms around his neck and turn, lifting a leg over his lap to straddle him. He holds you up by your back at first, but it isn’t long before he’s got one hand tangled in your hair and one on your ass, groaning quietly into your mouth as you grind down on the growing bulge you feel beneath you. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since you had him last, but you can’t hold it back. You want him again.

He settles both hands on your waist, pulling you down harder onto his clothed erection, helping you set a rhythm as you move against him, your mouth traveling down the column of his neck.

“What if your dad wakes up?” you manage to whisper, your hands slipping under his shirt and brushing along the muscles they find there.

“He can’t get downstairs without help,” Jin answers, biting off a groan as you lift his shirt up over his head, placing it on the chair next to you. He kisses you feverishly, leaning you back against the edge of the kitchen table, which scoots a little from the force of it.

“Want you,” you murmur, and Jin tightens his hand on your ass in reply, then wraps his other arm around your back again and stands. You squeal as he lifts you, and he shushes you through a quiet laugh.

“Where are we going?” you hiss, clinging tight to him with both arms and legs as he moves through the kitchen.

“My wallet’s in my room,” he tells you. “And as much as I’d love to bend you over the kitchen table someday, I didn’t want to stop touching you long enough to go deal with that.”

Your pussy throbs at the words and you let out a disbelieving laugh. “Jesus,” you say.

“Seokjin,” he corrects.

You smack his shoulder, laughing, as he enters his darkened bedroom, closing and locking the door behind you.

“We do have to be a little quiet,” he warns you. “He can’t come down here without my help, but if he wakes up, this house isn’t super sound-proof.”

“I remember,” you say dryly, remembering being scolded dozens of times for laughing and talking too loudly with Minji on sleepovers. “I can be quiet. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“I wasn’t the one screaming last night,” he growls, close to your ear. You smack his shoulder a second time and he laughs, setting you down and turning to dig through his wallet, tossing the foil packet onto his nightstand before turning his attention back to you.

“Ready now?” you ask, arching an eyebrow sassily.

He laughs again, low and disbelieving, like you’re playing a dangerous game. Another thrill runs through you. You step forward, closing the distance between you, chest to chest with him. You want to run your hands over his stomach, over his pecs, over his shoulders and down his arms. Instead, you press your fingers into his chest and push. He lets you, falling backwards onto his bed and looking up at you, eyes suddenly hooded with desire.

You pull your shirt over your head and toss it on the floor. Your bra follows, and you stand there, looking him up and down as he runs a hand over the front of his jeans, watching you eagerly.

“Jeans off,” you tell him. “Actually, scratch that - all of it off.”

He hurries to comply, radiating just happy to be here energy, and by the time you’ve pulled off your own slacks and panties he’s back to laying on his back, legs hanging off the end of the bed, one hand wrapped invitingly around the base of his dick as he pumps it languidly, his eyes on your tits.

“Condom,” you say, and his brow furrows.

“Want to touch you first,” he complains, sitting up a little.

“Condom,” you repeat firmly.

He reaches for the foil. You wait patiently, thrilling at this game, excited to see what else will unfold.

He waits, too, one side of his mouth lifted as he watches you. You crawl over him, pressing your mouth to his determinedly. He leans up into the kiss, one hand coming up to roll a nipple between thumb and forefinger before switching to the other. You groan quietly, then reach behind you to line him up. It’ll be a challenge without any stretching first and you know it, but tonight you don’t care.

You sink down on him slowly, lifting up and dropping back down in intervals to slick him up. He grits his teeth to keep quiet, large hands spanning your hips as he helps guide you.

For a long time he lets you lead, lifting up and dropping down, leaning forward so he’ll hit that spot each time, rocking back and forth when your legs need a break. He moans so prettily below you, eyes squeezed shut, it eggs you on. You slow your pace, lifting up over him until you’ve almost come off completely, then working your hips back down, clenching over him as you drop again. As you repeat this motion you hear the change in his tone almost instantly - he goes whiney, high-pitched ah - ah - ah-s falling from him until he pulls a pillow around over his face to muffle the sound.

Finally, he snaps, unable to take your torture any longer. He grips the back of your neck with one hand, holds you tightly in place with his arm across your back with the other, flattens his feet against the floor and begins to piston into you, merciless.

You cry out once before hiding your face in the crook of his neck as he continues the onslaught, those whiney sounds settling back into deep grunts of effort.

Your orgasm slams out of nowhere; you were so overcome with the sensation of him fucking in and out of you so roughly that you didn’t even feel the build-up - all the feelings muddled together in a cacophony of sparks and shudders. You wail into his neck, trying hard to keep the sound as low as you can manage, as you feel yourself tighten around him like a vice grip. He cries out, too, his pumps going erratic, and then he stills beneath you, his hands still clutching your hips for dear life.

“Shit,” he breathes finally, giving you a light tap so you’ll lift up and let him handle the mess. You roll to his side and watch him affectionately as he ties up the condom and buries it beneath some papers in his wastebasket.

“Don’t let me forget to deal with that in the morning,” he requests, flopping next to you.

“I’ll try my best,” you tell him seriously, wrapping an arm around his middle and snuggling in. He rests his arm over your back.

“Was all of that… okay?” you ask, just to be sure.

He shakes his head, lips pursing. “Hated it,” he teases.

You growl in frustration, and he laughs again, reaching to smooth down your hair. “Will you stay tonight?”

You consider this. “I don’t think I can,” you say sadly. “I have work in the morning, I’d have to get up and go back there at like four in order to shower and everything.”

He sighs heavily. “That means I have to get up and drive you back.”

“Poor baby,” you deadpan.

He nods, agreeing with this. “Do you need to go back now?” he asks, lifting his phone to eye the time. “Can I take you in a little bit?”

“Yeah,” you agree, snuggling in tighter to his side. “We can wait a little. I don’t want to move. Not yet.”

Your workday is interrupted the next morning by a flower delivery. The secretary at your office walks the vase back to your cubicle, a look between confusion and irritation on her face.

“Thanks,” you tell her hollowly, eyeing the bouquet carefully. There’s a tiny card amongst the greenery, but instead of a signature there’s simply a smiley face. The flowers are pretty - you turn the vase carefully so you can look from all sides. Not roses, but a variety of types and colors. You smile, remembering ranting to Minji in his basement as a teenager that roses were boring and overdone.

Behind you, Dale sneezes violently once, twice, three times.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “I’ll take them home with me tonight.”

You text Seokjin a picture of the flowers on your desk.

[10:39 AM] You: what are you doing??? [10:39 AM] Jin 😎: trying to make up for past seokjin [10:39 AM] Jin 😎: that guy was an idiot [10:42 AM] Jin 😎: …is it working?

You smile despite yourself.

[10:42 AM] You: it’s certainly not hurting anything [10:43 AM] You: they’re really pretty [10:43 AM] You: thank you [10:44 AM] You: i’m having dinner with my parents tonight… i’ll text you when we’re done and see what you’re up to? [10:45 AM] Jin 😎: i know what i’ll be up to [10:45 AM] Jin 😎: waiting for my girl

–

You slip across the street after telling your parents goodnight. Seokjin lets you in the front door. Mr. Kim is still up, his leg on a stack of pillows on the couch. He greets you warmly and you sit and talk with them both. It isn’t long before you hear the familiar beep from outside - Minji’s car.

You look at Seokjin in alarm. You knew you’d have to play pretend in front of her eventually… you hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

“Hey!” Minji greets, coming through the front door in a tornado of sounds and bags and shoes. “What are you doing here?”

“I was at my parents’,” you say, hoping it sounds natural. “I just thought I’d come say hello for a minute.”

She narrows her eyes at you, that Minji look. Then she drops her bag on the floor and saunters towards the kitchen.

“Is there food?” she asks.

“I cooked,” Jin tells her. You shoot him a desperate save me look and follow her into the kitchen.

She busies herself in the fridge and you sit, trying to figure out how to get out there without raising her suspicions even further.

“So,” she says breezily, without even turning to look at you. “You got laid. Want to spill?”

“Minji!” you cry, horrified.

“What?” she laughs. “It must’ve been good, too. You’ve got that glow.”

Out in the living room, you hear Seokjin choke, erupting into a fit of coughing. You try to look like you don’t even notice.

“Minji,” you complain. “Don’t be gross!”

She grins at you. “Please. I’m jealous. And it’s been a long time for you. So, spill! Who’s the guy?”

Seokjin does save you, then, coming into the kitchen and swatting at Minji’s elbow. “If you’re going to be crass, could you lower your voice? Dad doesn’t need to hear all that.”

She sticks her tongue out at him, then goes back to making her plates. “I’m right though,” she grumbles, definitely at a lower volume. “Look at her. The glow doesn’t lie.”

–

The next night you spend the golden evening hours wrapped up with Jin on your couch.

“Who’s making dinner for your dad?” you ask, rolling lazily on your back and looking up at him.

“I asked Minji to handle dinner tonight,” he tells you. “I told her I was grabbing dinner with some friends.”

“I don’t love the lying,” you admit, “but this is really nice.” You sigh happily and he pulls you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head.

“It is nice,” he echoes, a little sadly.

You think you must both be thinking about how he’s going home in eight more days.

“Jin?”

“Hm?”

“How come you never told me?”

He shifts so he can look down at you. “What?”

“If you knew you…” Loved me. “...had feelings for me… why didn’t you say anything?”

He makes a face you can’t read; it’s cousins with a grimace but not quite the same. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he counters.

“I can actually answer that,” you tease, poking him in the ribs. He squirms, whining. “It was because I had zero inkling that you’d be interested. The first time I ever thought you could be was… that night… and then I got the idea that you weren’t into it after all.”

You look at him expectantly, as if saying, okay, your turn.

His ears are red. “You’re gonna make me say it, huh?” he asks flatly, avoiding your gaze.

“I am curious,” you murmur, running a hand up his arm.

He holds you tighter, rolling on his side to get his arms all the way around you. With you tucked safely in his embrace, he doesn’t have to look at you when he says, “I guess I was scared. The whole time.”

“Of what?” you ask, your voice muffled by his shirt.

You can feel him shrug. “Of fucking it up. Of pissing off Minji to the point it hurt your friendship. Of it not being as good as I built it up in my head. Of not being… enough to make you happy.”

“Hey,” you say sharply. “That could never be true.” You wiggle a little, sitting up a bit so you can look at him again. “Don’t put so much pressure on it,” you tell him gently. “It doesn’t need to be perfect or nothing, you know? We can just… be.”

He rests his head on yours, fingers tracing patterns on your upper arms. “I like the sound of that,” he admits.

On the coffee table, your phone rings - several long buzzes, the sound even louder in the quiet room. Jin reaches over your shoulder and picks it up, handing it to you.

“It’s my sister,” he tells you.

“Do you want to come have dinner at my dad’s?” Minji asks when you answer. “Jin went out with some friends so I’m here by myself and I am bored.”

“Oh, sorry Minji… I can’t tonight. I’m actually still at the office,” you lie, and Seokjin’s eyebrows shoot up in amusement.

She groans. “Fine, leave me here to suffer,” she laments.

“You’re all so dramatic,” you tell her. “Jungkook is the only normal one.” Seokjin kicks your shin gently, pretending to scowl in offense.

“Speaking of Jungkook,” Minji says, clearly perking up, “what about tomorrow night? My dad invited over his golf buddy’s whole family, and he wants all of us there to make him look good. Even Jungkook is coming.”

“I fail to see how I fit into this equation,” you tell her flatly.

She makes a loud noise of frustration, and you pull the phone away from your ear briefly. Seokjin’s eyebrows inch even higher. “It’s just gonna suck,” she whines. “I have to dress up and act like a real adult, and they’re gonna ask me questions about work and if I’m dating and I would just really appreciate it if you were there to make me feel less pathetic.”

“Because I, too, am a disgrace to adulthood?” you clarify.

She cackles. “Because we can roll our eyes at each other and talk shit about them later? Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Not as nice as staying in my own home in my sweatpants,” you say, even though you already know you’ll be going. It’s a chance to spend the night with Jin, one week before he flies home again. “Your dad won’t care that he has an extra child all of a sudden?”

“Nah,” she says easily, happy that you’ve consented. “He won’t care at all. Right, Dad?”

When you hang up, Seokjin is looking at you expectantly, waiting for the explanation.

“I guess I’m attending your dad’s fancy dinner party tomorrow,” you tell him. Then, frowning, you ask, “How’s he hosting that when he can barely get around?”

Jin rolls his eyes. “You get three guesses who’s doing all the cooking, and the first two don’t count.”

You giggle. “Well,” you say happily, “now I get to see you tomorrow night, too!”

–

You are a fool. You know it the second Mr. Kim’s guests come through the front door. The Parks seem nice enough - a married couple near Mr. Kim’s age, both greying and soft-spoken. The problem is the Trojan Horse they bring with them - their daughter, Sumin. She’s around your age, pretty, and you know instantly that this dinner is a set-up.

The whole evening is unbearable - because it goes well. Seokjin, clueless, is so charming that you think even Mr. Park falls in love with him before dessert.

Around the dinner table, Mr. Kim introduces each of his children. You notice, even if no one else does, that he gives more details about Jin’s university achievements and current career than he does for Minji or Jungkook. Quite a sales pitch, actually.

You notice, even if no one else does, how Mr. and Mrs. Park cling to every word, their smiles growing when they hear that Seokjin is smart, has a respectable and stable job with solid income. You notice, even if no one else does, how Sumin toys nervously with the bangles on her wrist, looking sideways at Seokjin and blushing prettily.

Your stomach turns.

“And my daughter’s best friend,” Mr. Kim introduces you, even though no one cares, certainly not the Parks, “who grew up in this house with them. I consider her a second daughter.”

The Parks don’t let Sumin speak for herself, either - they handle the sales pitch the same way Mr. Kim had for Seokjin. Fact for fact - university background, current job, philanthropic efforts, extracurriculars. You’re tempted to text Minji, “Well, I’d HIRE her if nothing else.”

You largely tune the rest of the conversation out. You’re too busy watching how Seokjin doesn’t even look at her, keeps his eyes on his plate when they’re not on you. You exist on the edge, peripherally involved at best.

That is, until you hear Mr. Park laugh, “And what are the odds that you two would end up in the same city? Is it really so far? Yah, we ask her to come home more often and you’d think we were asking her to get a medical procedure done!”

“The flights are a bit of a hassle,” Sumin says with an apologetic smile.

“She’s right,” Jin adds, unable to help himself; he had a personal vendetta against the airline that had brought him home this time. “And there are no train lines that make sense. It is a hassle.”

“It’ll be nice for Sumin to have another good friend in the city,” Mrs. Park says with a gracious smile, nodding to Seokjin. “Many of her university friends ended up abroad for work.”

No one notices that Minji and Jungkook are taking turns making faces across the table from each other. No one notices that you’ve gone silent as the grave.

Except Seokjin, who spends all of dinner shooting you looks that you can’t decipher.

You sigh in blessed relief when they finish the round of cocktails and say their goodbyes, smiles bright, Sumin’s eyes lingering on Seokjin as she follows her parents towards the front door. You’re unsettled as you station yourself at the kitchen sink, eager for a task to keep you busy. It’s clear to you that the Parks - all three - were sold. How easy would it be for Jin to accept this path? It feels like watching someone step into the place in his life that you’d wanted for as long as you can remember, and fit perfectly. More perfectly than you, who seem to barely fit at all. It feels like watching someone else get everything you ever wanted, without even having to work for it.

Seokjin passes behind where you’re standing and goes through the kitchen door, out to the wooden porch. A minute later, Mr. Kim limps through the room, following after him. It’s not long before you can hear their voices floating through the open kitchen window.

You shouldn’t listen. Behind you, further in the house, you can hear Minji and Jungkook bickering. You grab a dish towel and start wiping down some of the plates you’ve already cleaned.

“Explain to me what the problem was,” Mr. Kim says sternly. You feel your stomach flip again.

“There wasn’t a problem,” Seokjin answers flatly.

“You were rude,” Mr. Kim admonishes.

“I wasn’t rude,” Jin counters calmly. “I’m just not interested.”

There’s a thump, like Mr. Kim has slapped the porch railing in frustration. “And why not? She’s beautiful, educated, she’s got a good personality, comes from a good family. How could you not be interested? You’re thirty, for the love of God -.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Jin says, and it makes your chest clench how icy he sounds, “but like I said… I’m not interested.”

The silence goes on so long that you think maybe they moved where you can’t hear them anymore. Then, Mr. Kim’s voice floats through the window, quieter than before.

“Is it because of her?”

“Dad -.”

“For the love of God, Seokjin, how many more years do you plan to lose?” Mr. Kim demands, his voice loud again. “When will you figure out that you’re wasting your time?”

You drop the dish towel, manage to cling to the plate you’re holding. You feel nauseated. Is that what this is? A waste of his time? Are you fools for even pretending you could try?

Minji comes up behind you, silent as a jungle cat. “What are they fighting about?” she whispers.

You push the plate into her hands blindly. “I have to go,” you say, brushing past her and heading through the house, out the front door, and across the yard.

You’re halfway to your parents’ house when you hear Seokjin yell your name behind you.

“Hey!” he shouts when you don’t stop. You keep walking, but you can hear his footsteps jog to catch you. He catches your arm, gives it a tug to whirl you around.

“What?” you demand.

“Why are you upset?” he asks, eyes scanning your face, as if he’ll find answers. “What’s wrong?”

You laugh bitterly. “Your dad is right,” you say flatly. “You’re wasting your time. I’ve wasted your time for almost ten fucking years. What are we doing? Where is this going? In six days you’re getting on a plane again and we’ll be right where we were before. You’ve got a great option right in front of you - the least selfish choice for me here is to let you take it. The least selfish thing for me to do is to let you go, let you move on.”

You’re not sure when in this little speech you started crying; you aren’t even aware that it’s happening until Seokjin’s thumbs brush your cheeks and then swipe once more at your waterline, flicking away a fresh wave of tears.

He looks so confused that you almost feel sorry for him. “What?” he asks. “Y/N, I’m obviously not interested in Sumin.”

“Why not?” you shoot back, anger rising - not at him, you don’t think. “Why not be interested in her? She’s perfect - gorgeous, more educated than me, from a richer family. God, she even lives in your city!” You sniff roughly, steeling yourself, feeling something inside you harden like cooling lava into rock. “You should call her,” you tell him firmly. “She’s the better option for you.”

“Why are you talking like this is ending?” he asks, his voice a whisper. “We’re not ending, we’re just starting.”

“I don’t know,” you cry, feeling stupid and a little like you're overreacting, but now that you’ve started you can’t stop. “Why are you picking the harder option? Why choose this? What happy ending can we possibly have?”

“Pick,” he repeats, putting a bit of a laugh into the word. “Who picked? I fell in love with you. There’s no choice about it. You’re the one I want. You’re the one I love. That’s all there is to it.”

This makes you cry harder, and he pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. You bury your face in his shirt, let yourself be selfish for just one more minute.

It’s there, under the streetlight, hiding in Jin’s solid embrace, that Minji finds you.

She steps into the circle of orange glow that the streetlight creates, appearing out of the darkness without a sound. You and Jin both freeze, caught, no time to leap apart. When she speaks, you expect the sound to echo loudly in the quiet. Instead, her voice comes out hushed and shaking as she asks, “What… is going on here?”

<- Prev || Next ->

oop!!!!!!!!!! >:) we have officially reached the point of the outline that read "Minji becomes the Problem" hehehe

thank you so so so much for reading!!!! Part 4: Perilune will post next Friday, June 23rd.

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banananutsmuthie · 1 year

Text

The Beginner's Guide to Great-Looking Abs in Just 10 Minutes

Idol(s): Wendy [Red Velvet]

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

A/N: A quick writing experiment for an idea I had. This will be different from what you're used to but I hope you'll give it a chance. Wanted to use Wendy abs pic from the GOT the Beat "Stamp on It" performance but there were no great stills.

“Close the door.”

This is how it starts. Notice Wendy’s choice of words here. She’s left the door open to interpretation. Now, you have two choices: you can either lock the door—which is probably what Wendy meant when she said to “close” it—or, you can take her words at face value and merely close the door like she asked.

Leave the door unlocked.

Give any passersby the opportunity to walk in on whatever lewd things Wendy wants to do in the 10 minutes she has before she has to perform. Perhaps this way, she’ll learn to choose her words carefully next time.

After you close the door, Wendy will smile. “Well? I haven’t got all day.”

She’ll be sitting on the couch. Walk toward her, but not too fast! You don’t want to seem too eager. This version of Wendy only works when she’s the needy one. Give her any reason to think you’re the one that needs her and you’ll never hear from her again.

There are rules, you see, prerequisites established by Wendy for this thing between you and her to work out. First, she lets you call her whatever you want. Call her Wendy, call her your cumbucket, call her a slut (she particularly likes that one), but under no circumstance shall you claim her as yours. She is not your baby, your lover, your jagi. You are not her boyfriend. This is just sex. Because when you get caught (and you will), the first newspaper to break the story will claim Wendy is “dating”. Wendy will only speak the truth—she will say she is not dating to free herself from the backlash she will inevitably receive and place the blame on the newspaper for reporting fake news. For her, it’s all the fun without the consequences.

The second rule—the fun rule—is “never the same place twice”. This is just sex for her, and because it’s just sex, she will want to do it everywhere and anywhere. Seulgi’s room, the recording studio, in some dark alley, it doesn’t matter: when she texts you the time and place, she expects you to drop everything for her, no questions asked. Wendy enjoys the thrill. She wants to get caught. This is why you leave the door unlocked in the first place.

Now that you’re refreshed on the rules, you’re ready to begin.

Get right up to her where she’s sitting on the couch. Gently part her legs if you have to. Slap her hand away when she greedily tries to unzip your pants. She will play along when you tell her, “You had all day to text me, and you only decide right before you have to perform to call me here? Not a lot of time to do anything, Wendy. This is going to cost you.”

“Name your price,” Wendy will say.

There are rules to negotiation, just like there are rules for sex with Wendy. Ask for something absurd, something she’ll never agree to. Set the bar high so that what you get is closer to what you wanted to begin with. “Threesome later this week. You and one of your members. I don’t care which one.”

Wendy will scoff and present a counter offer: “Eat me out now and I’ll let you cum in me before our next performance and let that load soak through my safety shorts on stage.”

As tempting as that sounds, there will be no immediate satisfaction for you should you accept. Make one last offer.

“Blowjob with a blast to your face. Right now. Maybe I’ll play with your tits if you’re good. Final offer. I’m a very busy man, y’know. I’ve got better things to do.” Make it sting. There probably won’t be many things above “sex with Wendy” on your list, but you need to make Wendy believe she’s not that important—this is key.

She will complain about her makeup, how there won’t be time to redo it after you’ve ruined it, or her hair, how she spent the last couple hours getting it done. Tell her how it’s not your problem and walk toward the door. Wendy will curse, but she will finally agree because this is why she came running to you in the first place: no other man can sexually satisfy her the way that you do, so she’ll take whatever sex she can get, even if she’s not the one being pleasured.

“Fine. Handjob with a little tongue and you can cum on my abs,” she’ll say.

Turn back around, as you should always do. “Well, you better hurry then, princess. You’ve only got eight minutes left before you have to perform.”

She’ll be reaching for that zipper, but she’s a clumsy little thing, is used to handling bigger meaningful objects in her hand like a microphone, or your cock. Help her with the button, but watch as she finally figures out your skinny fit jeans and slides it down your legs.

Wendy will start to stroke, trying to get you hard for her. Let her. Undoubtedly, she will be in a hurry since she’ll have 7 minutes before she is called to the stage. It’ll feel great between her two skillful hands, but she’ll use one to start, claiming it’ll tire her arm, and she needs that arm to hold her mic up to her face in 6 minutes and 45 seconds.

“Maybe if you use your mouth, honey,” you’ll say.

Take your hand. Pinch Wendy’s chin between your thumb and index finger. Tilt her head upward so you can see the look in her eyes, determined, lustful, capable.

“You promised me a little tongue action, where’s that tongue?”

She’ll grimace. “One hand should be enough,” she’ll try to reason, but you know what it takes to get you off.

“Now. Or I walk,” you’ll say, firm and threatening, so that she understands the gravity of what’s at stake. It shouldn’t take more than that. Hold in your excitement when Wendy leans forward, parting her lips enough to stick that tongue on your tip.

Encourage her. “That’s it, right there.”

Guide her, show her where you want that tongue to be used. Bring her forward. She will try to sidestep your cock from entering her mouth, will run that tongue down the side of your shaft and make your member nice and wet. That’s okay! Make her lick your balls while she’s there, watch your cock twitch in Wendy’s grasp.

Notice how her lips have yet to touch any part of your cock. This is intentional. Look at those luscious lips glazed in gloss. She can’t afford to have them ruined by slurping up some dick just before a performance. Everyone will know then. This is why she settled on a handjob with a cum shot on the only part of her body that’s exposed in an outfit that would look better on the floor. Let her be. You’re a gentleman in that regard. If she drools from that open mouth tongue action she’s still doing on you, put your hand out underneath her chin to catch her saliva so it doesn’t drip onto her pants.

There will be a knock at the door sooner or later. “Five minutes, miss Wendy!”

This is why leaving the door unlocked is important, for times like these. Wendy will tense up, her hand on your cock tightening its grip out of surprise. What she won’t know is that the stagehand could walk in on her stroking and licking your cock right now. Imagine the look on her face when he does.

But he won’t. People in this town are too nice.

“Coming!” she’ll say, and you’ll reply with something stupid like, “Hey, that’s my line!” Wendy will roll her eyes and tell you to quiet down, but ultimately will do three things.

First, she’ll stroke faster out of necessity. This is no longer a “want” but a “need”. She needs you to cum so she can get on stage. Second, she’ll finally add that free hand to your shaft, gripping you the same way a baseball player would grip a bat. Lastly, she’ll lick your tip, just a little, starting with the underside of your cockhead, swirling around that sensitive area, and finishing with a little flourish at the tip, all without breaking eye contact.

Compliment her again, then remind her of what she promised. “So fucking hot, Wendy. But you know what happens next, right?”

She won’t need much more of a reminder than that. Apply some pressure with a pushing motion to her shoulder, just enough for her to take the hint. She will fall backfirst onto the couch.

Straddle her.

Watch as her eyes flicker as she lets out a moan when you slip your fingers between her legs, in that thigh gap, rubbing, feeling the heat radiating from Wendy's pussy even with her pants still on.

Remind her for next time: “This tight little kitty could’ve been enjoying some action right now if her owner didn’t call the lion tamer so late.” She’ll be too lost in ecstasy from your touch, and too determined with your cock to notice, but that’s okay, too.

That’ll be enough pleasure for Wendy’s pussy this time. Any more than that and she’ll be too lost in her own little world to give a fuck about her performance, the one on stage later and the one on your cock currently.

By now, Wendy will have done a good enough job to get your cock rock hard. Reward her for it. Reach underneath her top with both hands, carefully lift it up off her arms, and let it rest as a useless necklace around her neck. This way, you don’t mess up her hair by pulling it up over her head, and she won’t need to put it back on when you’re done. More importantly, it now gives you a buffer when you overshoot Wendy’s abs and cum on her tits. Not only will it be a great view, but it will also keep her outfit clean.

You should now be staring at a raw, desperate, topless Wendy. Enjoy the view. Not many people get to watch an idol giving them a handjob with such fervor underneath them. Grasp at those lovely little breasts with both hands while she strokes you. She deserves that much, at least. Watch as the muscles in her biceps flex and extend with each jerk of your cock in her tiny hands. Feel it in her soft breasts, how they jiggle lightly in your grasp.

You should feel a tingling sensation, cock throbbing, almost there, almost ready to dump your load all over Wendy. Tell her. “I’m almost there Wendy, just a little more.” She might look at the clock on the wall for a quick check, but she’ll definitely stroke faster, grip tighter, maybe even throw out some encouragement of her own to move you along.

Reward her again for being so skilled with her hands: play with Wendy’s perfect burnt-almond colored nipples. Titillate her tits. Hear her moans when you pinch those little nubs that will be getting hard with arousal. Feel her abs clench underneath you, every curve and crevice throbbing against the underside of your balls. This will encourage her to stroke faster until you hit your breaking point.

Give her a sign that you’re about to cum so she can prepare for it. You’re a gentleman, after all. It can be as subtle as tightening your straddle against her hips, or as blatant as moaning out, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” If you’re feeling extra frisky, you may even do both.

“Right here,” she will remind you, taking one hand off your shaft to caress her hard-earned abs, showing you exactly where she wants it. You must be careful to cum only where she instructs you to cum, or there may be no next time.

Quicken your breathing. Make sure Wendy doesn’t let go of your cock. Watch as her continued stroking results in blasting her stomach with globs of your cum. Groan if you'd like, she'll consider it as positive feedback. If she’s done a great job, you may notice cum shooting as far as her tits, which isn’t exactly her abs like she directed, but this is why you pull her top off her chest.

Unmount her when she’s drained you completely and admire the work. You are the paint, she is the artist and the canvas. There will be aqueducts of white filling in the crevices of her abs, gutters of cum flowing down her sides and letting the excess drip onto the couch.

She will not be able to get up without the risk of your cum sliding down her stomach and onto her pants. So because you're a gentleman, you’ll hand her a towel so that she can wipe herself off. She’ll get most of it, enough to finally sit up and slip back into her top. If you’ve timed it right, she should have no more than a minute to spare.

“You’re welcome,” you’ll say.

Wendy will be the first to leave her dressing room. “I’ll text you,” she’ll say. Wendy will be too much in a hurry to care that there are still shiny remnants of your cum shimmering on her abdomen. This is fine. If she’s lucky, she can play it off as oil, an “artistic choice”, should anyone ask. “Sex sells in this industry,” she’ll say.

Stay behind, count to thirty. You want to make sure there is enough of an interval after Wendy leaves to avoid any suspicion from anyone backstage that you were just with her. Once you reach thirty, leave the room, close the door, and find your way back to your car.

You may run into someone in the hallway. It could be BoA’s boyfriend who came to support her for the comeback. You shouldn’t say hi, but be courteous if he initiates contact. Worst case scenario, he will ask, “Was Wendy good?”

“What’s it to you,” you’ll reply, and he’ll go on about a dream he had one drunken night where he fucked every member of Red Velvet in a Cinderella-like fairytale. He’ll tell you all about this vivid experience with Wendy, how she was a moaner and liked it in the ass.

Ignore him, it’s best not to dawdle. “It was nice to meet you,” you’ll say. Politely bow and continue to the parking garage.

Once there, you’ll notice Somi just a couple cars over from where you’re parked, leaning against the hood of her car. She’ll be in this amazing outfit that highlights her best features: stockings on her legs that go on for days, a top that shows off that shredded tummy, and the horizontal stripe design that really emphasizes those mouthwatering melons. It’s not a coincidence she is here.

“Hey,” she’ll say. Be polite and greet her back. You’ll try to introduce yourself, but she’ll interrupt you.

“You’re cuter than I thought you’d be,” she’ll say.

Reply back with a compliment. Go ahead and shoot your shot. She’ll appreciate the fresh forwardness that most people would be too scared to treat her with. “And you look more fuckable than I thought you’d be.”

She’ll look appalled, but watch as her indignance turns into a smirk for the appreciation of the wit and brashness, the kind of behavior that gets her pussy wet. This is exactly what she’ll be expecting, after all.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” she’ll say, “Wendy unnie told me about you. I asked her to get you here today so I could see for myself.”

Deny anything she’s accusing you of until it comes straight from her. “What have you heard?”

“I hear you’re somewhat of an idol whisperer. Knows how to pleasure women with no strings attached. Was maybe wondering if I could get a consultation in the backseat of my car.”

You are not yet ready for Somi; she is way too advanced to be covered here. Instead, she will be covered in The Advanced Guide to Great-Looking Abs in Just 10 Minutes. Politely decline but give her your number. Tell her to text another day when you’re not so busy. If she’s really interested, she’ll call.

For now, there are other things on the agenda: places to go, people to see, things to do. Get in your car, check your messages. There will undoubtedly be a text from one Lee Saerom, another client who loves riding that dick harder than Wendy.

Her text will read: Are you coming or not?

Tell her you’re on your way. She will give you her location, tell you how she wants it. She is a much different beast from Wendy: wilder, but more tamable than Somi.

Now, the rules Wendy imposed on your arrangement are a good foundation, but these are basic principles that don’t necessarily apply to women like Saerom and Somi, women more complicated in their wants and needs. This isn’t the end of the journey—there are more rules to follow, more concepts to learn. Once you feel comfortable with the concepts in this module, take a deep breath and pat yourself on the back.

Congratulations, you are now ready for The Intermediate Guide to Great-Looking Abs in Just 10 Minutes.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Just a little quickie I churned out in a couple days which is a much faster turnaround time that most of my fics. Thanks for reading!

#kpop smut #red velvet smut #wendy smut #male reader #reader insert

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1ivinqdeadqir1 · 1 year

Note

Hi, I hope you’re doing good, I saw your post about exams and same here, it’s hard just to wake up to go to school in the morning. 😭 Anyway, I just read the post about Lalo being your first time, and I was wondering when you could find time, if you could write the same prompt just with Nacho? Oml the brainrot is HEAVYYYY. If not, that’s completely okay! Thank you so much.

Nacho Varga being his SOs first:

A/N: similarly to the Lalo one, I used different ‘ first time ‘ circumstances and I think it turned out pretty cute, gotta love nachito <33

Fem!Reader (implied, though you could very well just use whatever pronouns or gender identity you like)

WARNING(S): mentions of sex, kissing and death, generally just nacho behaviour tbh

First relationship:

he wouldn’t really mind at all, he’d be a little intimidated maybe at first and feel as though there’s a lot of expectations he’d have to fill

But you’d ( of course ) reassure him that he’s doing great <33

I can imagine you meeting at his fathers shop, and he greets you at the counter and he can’t stop thinking about how gorgeous you are

“ I was uh.. if you’re free later maybe we could go for a drink?”

“I’d love to, Ignacio. pick me up at 7 okay?”

His father also adores you. Papa Varga really admires how you bring out the good in his son

Nacho probably has a gym set at his house let’s be for real

Imagine training together ( if you’re into that )

Him accidentally giving you weights that are too heavy and when your muscles ache afterward he apologizes and gives you a massage

“Ignacio, where did you learn to give massages like this?”

“It’s pretty straightforward really… I guess”

He’s not much for PDA, just for his reputation but if it’s just the two of you he’d happily hold you

Once you’re aware of his job he’d be hyper vigilant over you ( you probably have to find out on your own…)

Nacho definitely has a fake ID made for you in his safe. Just in case.

First Kiss:

he initiates it, or at least goes to- and you pull away.

“ sorry, I-“

“No no nacho, it’s me I just… I haven’t…”

“ oh 😳” he’d find it really cute, maybe a little weird since I imagine you’re around 23-25, but still.

You give him a quick peck on the cheek to compensate when he’s not looking, and he can’t help but smile stupidly into his hand.

This all probably takes place with you both sitting watching the sunset from inside one of his cars or an old truck borrowed from his dad for a romantic date night. In the middle of nowhere.

“You’re going to be the death of me” he sighs it out, and you laugh it off, though he’s a little worried that part of him is being truthful.

Not for his sake, more for yours. Because how can he develop such a love for someone-

who then loves him back, for him to just die and leave you all alone?

“You’re so dramatic sometimes… tough guy”

Your first PROPER kiss is probably after the 4th date, something relaxed like a movie at his place and food.

You initiate it this time, reluctantly, but he welcomes it.

“ that was… new”

“ oh shut up and just kiss me already”

And he does, smiling like a fool because he just has such a love for you. He doesn’t say as much as he should, but nacho doesn’t have to say it all the time for you to know.

First time having sex (NSFW):

Your confidence has probably gone up a lot since your first kiss with him, and being with him in general honestly

He’s still nacho, though a lot less stressed than usual, he has you to come home to so now he has something else to fight for.

Some days when he comes home you miss him more than he’d imagined,

I can’t imagine nacho taking you on regular shopping trips, though if you needed something and asked he’d oblige.

Besides, you like earning your own money, it makes you feel… accomplished, and appreciate the work that went into getting it.

So when he comes home and you’ve gotten a new set of underwear or pajamas he’d be so flustered, and maybe a little confused

“I- uh, they look… nice”

You’d initiate it this time, and ask him whether or not he’s going to hurry up and bend you over

As a… half joke, of course

After some very much needed TLC from you and some from him, he’s relatively gentle when it comes to the actual intercourse bit

Especially because he can just guess based on the fact you hadn’t even had your first kiss that you’re more than likely a virgin to

“We can stop if it hurts okay?”

“You’re so sweet baby, it doesn’t hurt”

It does. Not as much as your friends had made it out to be, but still you can definitely feel a slight burning feeling

Aftercare is pretty important to Nacho, just because he likes seeing you so relaxed and carefree sprawled out on his bed as he cleans over your body with a damp lukewarm washcloth.

Expect lots of uncharacteristic hugging and kisses as well

He’s the big spoon, tho he’s not really bothered what he is as long as you’re close to him

“You smell so nice Ignacio”

“Mmhm”

We know he doesn’t talk a lot, but you know exactly what he means

You’d turn to face him and press kisses along his chest and the scar he’d gotten from Tuco

“You're so beautiful”

At first he doesn’t really understand what you mean by beautiful, since he’s a guy, and it seems a bit… odd to talk to a guy like that

But he inevitably chuckles and asks “ how so?”

“ you’re just… a beautiful man, inside and out.”

Damn, talk about a sting to the heart, he’ll definitely remember that in his depressed ass moments

“You’re trying to make me soft hm?”

“No! You just…”

“ I know, I’m only joking”

“You and your jokes… nachito”

You’d both then fall asleep, you first then him.

He doesn’t sleep for long, about 2 hours or so

And when he wakes up he just looks down at you and can’t even begin to wonder what he did to deserve someone so perfect

too bad this was one of the last times you’d ever see him alive 💀

#nacho x reader #nacho varga x reader headcanons #nacho varga x reader #ignacio 'nacho' varga headcanons #ignacio varga x reader #ignacio 'nacho' varga x reader #better call saul x reader #better call saul

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sirianasims · 3 months

Text

It was nice being outside in the cool night air after sitting in the stuffy room. My clothes smelled like whatever he and Kari had been smoking.

I felt a little lightheaded as well.

As we walked back to the house, Charlie told me about touring, about trying to make it big. He told me about getting into trouble and running from the police. It was still baffling to me that he could laugh about things like being arrested, like it was all a big joke to him.

He also talked a little about Samuel. It felt like he was trying not to, but couldn’t stop himself. It sounded like his feelings about Samuel were just as complicated as Samuel’s feelings about him. There was definitely the same mix of resentment and envy.

After we got back to the house and I thanked Amelia for watching the girls, Charlie followed me upstairs to get a glimpse of his nieces. They were both sleeping peacefully.

In the hallway outside their room, he turned and looked at me with those mismatched eyes, one brown, one green.

“Cute kids. I know I haven’t been much of an uncle, but I’ll meet them properly tomorrow. My brother has always been the lucky one.”

I felt the lump in my throat. Tell that to him, maybe he would be here now. Maybe he would still care.

“Is something wrong? Freya? Hey, what’s up?”

There was actual concern in his voice. A voice that sounded so much like Samuel’s, except Samuel’s voice was causing me nothing but pain lately. I felt the tears coming.

“I’m sorry, Charlie, I’m a mess these days. It’s just – I don’t know if Samuel and I are going to last, and…”

He put his arms around me, and I leaned into him as I tried not to cry.

It felt good.

Samuel rarely held me when I was upset, he just explained why I shouldn’t be.

Charlie lifted my chin.

“My brother has also always been a fucking idiot.”

Then he kissed me.

Hard.

Insistent.

This was nothing like Samuel’s gentle kisses, bore no resemblance to his constant restraint. Or to his complete absence lately.

My knees buckled as Charlie continued kissing my neck, his other hand slowly, deliberately, untucking my shirt.

I should have pushed him away, told him to stop.

But I didn’t.

Somehow we reached the bed.

I had never felt this wanted, this desirable. All my frustration, doubt and hesitation obliterated.

As I wrapped my legs around Charlie, I knew this was wrong, this was a disaster. But all it did was turn me on more.

Charlie demanded instead of asking, ordered instead of suggesting.

Praised instead of criticising.

I let go of everything, lost myself completely in his arms, my mind blank, my body frenzied.

He looked up at me, eyes shining in the dark, as I moved my hips furiously, my nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck. If only my perfect little brother could see what his perfect little wife is doing right now.”

His harsh words cut through me without mercy, slicing through all the ties that had ever bound me.

They say the truth will set you free.

I had spent my life running from the truth, telling myself that everything would be fine if only I could find a way to be perfect.

I guess there’s nothing as freeing as accepting that you’re just a horrible human being.

Or maybe I was just human.

Flawed.

Broken.

Never meant to be perfect.

beginning / previous / next

#duchellilegacy #duchellichapters #duchelligen4 #freya duchelli #samuel ward #charlie ward #sims spice

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the-himawari · 2 months

Text

A3! Outing Event Translation - You're my first and last love. (3/11)

*Please read disclaimer on blog; default name set as Izumi

---

Sakyo: —Everyone’s here now. These are our team members this time.

Masumi: …

Hisoka: Zzz…

Sakuya: I'm looking forward to working together, Azami-kun!

Azami: Yeah. Even though our teams were picked by lottery, I don’t like the fact I ended up on the same team as shitty Sakyo. But you’re here too, Sakuya-san. So I’m sure it’ll work out fine.

Sakuya: Ehh! Um… let’s do our best together!

Misumi: What a surprise though, huh~? I never thought we’d also ending up doing something at that place!

*flashback starts*

Izumi: Welcome home, everyone! I sent you guys a LIME earlier. Did you see it?

Masumi: Yeah. We were surprised since we were right by the venue when we got your message.

Izumi: Huh? Really? What an amazing coincidence.

Misumi: We were with a lost kitty!

Izumi: A kitty?

Masumi: Don’t worry about it. Continue.

Izumi: Ah, sure. I heard that Veludo City was also involved in the construction of this event hall. And so, apparently they’re reaching out to stores and groups that have a connection with Veludo City to participate in the event hall’s grand opening.

Misumi: That sounds fun~!

Izumi: Right. I think it’s going to be lively… but truth be told, the main details of the event haven’t been finalized yet. They said that as long as it fits the theme of “White Day”, then we’re free to do whatever we want…

Masumi: That sounds reckless…

Izumi: Ahaha… the hall was just built, after all. I heard another reason for that is so they can consider how to use the hall and which groups to invite afterwards, based on the event.

Azami: In other words, it’s a trial event.

Izumi: I suppose so. The days and times that each group can use the hall have already been allocated. We get to use the hall for a full day.

Hisoka: …That’s quite a long time.

Izumi: I think so too. That’s why I haven’t fully decided what we’re going to do as MANKAI Company.

Misumi: Ooh, let’s open a triangle shop! We’ll stock up on lots of triangle items!

Hisoka: A marshmallow shop…

Azami: Err, you’re the only ones who would be into that.

Izumi: We can think about whether it’s do-able afterwards. All ideas are welcome right now. Do you have anything, Azami-kun?

Azami: Even if you ask me…

Masumi: What if we do something like a thank you event like Sakuya mentioned before?

Izumi: Hm?

Masumi: If it’s a big event, then everyone’s schools and workplaces might be more flexible, right?

Izumi: Well, that’s true…

Sakyo: —I’m down for that. Let’s start by askin’.

Azami: Ugh, it's shitty Sakyo. Since when were you listenin’?

Sakyo: I just came.

Izumi: …I got it. I think it’d be great if we could do what Sakuya suggested. I’ll run it by everyone and see.

*flashback ends*

Azami: I never actually thought everyone’s schedules would miraculously match up.

Hisoka: Maybe it’s because it was just one day?

Sakyo: Exactly. That venue also has the capacity to let us accomplish what would usually take us several days all in one day. That also helps in a sense.

Azami: Well, we haven’t even decided what we’re gonna do though.

Sakuya: I’m curious what kind of ideas the other teams are going to come up with. But first, we should think about what we’d like to do.

Sakyo: Yeah, as Sakuma said. Does anyone have any ideas right now?

Misumi: Here, heeere! I wanna look for triangles!

Sakyo: MANKAI Company’s fans aside, the regular guests aren’t gonna understand what’s goin’ on.

Sakuya: I think it’s a great idea though. It sounds like something Misumi-san would come up with.

Sakyo: At this rate, all Mikage’s gonna say is marshmallows… Usui, do you have anythin’?

Masumi: No.

Sakyo: You…

Hisoka: Zzz…

Sakyo: Oi, don’t fall asleep.

Misumi: Wanna have a marshmallow, Hisoka?

Hisoka: Thanks.

Azami: *Sigh*… our future looks bleak.

Sakuya: Ahaha…

---

previous | next

#a3!#a3! translation #usui masumi #act! addict! actors!#you're my first and last love

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vodika-vibes · 7 months

Text

Hurt

Summary: When you're injured while on a job, some truths come out.

Pairing: Commander Fox x Thief!Reader

Word Count: 1811

Warnings: Violence

Song: None

A/N: I've been watching Leverage, so this was born from that. And then I remembered, halfway through writing this, that I already had a Fox x Thief!Reader story, so this is technically a continuation?

Divider by Saradika

You enjoy your job. It’s not, perhaps, the most high paying job on Coruscant, but you enjoy it all the same. You investigate crimes, and try to fix what happened for the victim.

Of course, you don’t go out into the field so much anymore. Which is more than fine for you, you’ve always been happier being tech support rather than doing the actual grifting, or hurting people. You hate hurting people. And you’re not allowed to jump from buildings anymore because your maybe-boyfriend doesn’t like it.

He also really doesn’t like that you had elected to join this crew rather than remaining with the Guard, but he understands. At least a little.

“Let’s keep this simple, everyone.” You roll your eyes as your boss’ voice echoes across the comms that connect you with your team, “We’ll get in, get the money and the information, and then pull out before anyone knows we’re here.”

You scan your monitors for a moment, “You’re all clear,” You say, “And your timers start…now. Happy hunting.”

You press some buttons, so you’re able to watch over your entire crew and listen in on all of their conversations, but your part in the con is over. Well. At least until they get you the information they’re hunting for.

Thirty minutes later, the comms burst to life. “You need to get out of there!” One of the members of the crew hisses, “This was a set-up! They’re coming after you!”

“What? Me?” You ask, your voice pitching up in alarm.

“Yes! Get out!”

You scramble to your feet, and grab the computer, shoving it into your bag, and then you scramble all of the other computers with a few keystrokes, and you head to the front door.

You dart behind a wall as the door explodes in, and you silently move to the back of the safehouse. If you can get to a window, you’ll be home free.

You don’t make it to the window. As large men, with a lot of weapons, manage to surround you.

“Are you going to try and fight?” The man wearing the largest armor asks, his voice heavily modulated by his armor. And, judging by his armor, he’s the commander of the private security team of your team’s current mark.

You shrug one shoulder, “There are less painful ways to die,” You reply dryly.

“Hm. Smart,” The leader removes his helmet, revealing a Miralian man covered in scars, “What’s your name?”

At that, you just shrug.

“Sir,” A second man says hurriedly, “I believe this is the infamous Blue Rose of Coruscant.”

“Is that right? Are you the Blue Rose?”

You shrug again, a small smirk playing on your lips.

He scowls at you, “Take her.”

The last thing you think as the butt of the rifle flies towards your face, is that Fox is going to be pissed.

When you come too, you’re tied to a chair. Your arms tied to the arms of the chair, and your legs bound to the legs of the chair. Your bag lay, unopened, on the table in front of you.

And you have a pounding headache, and you’re pretty sure you’re bleeding. Or you had been, based on the amount of blood on your formerly white shirt.

“Ah, awake at last.” You cut your eyes over to the leader, who had decided that he was safe enough to remove all of his armor. “I apologize for my men, they were a little rougher than I intended.”

“Yes, you look all broken up about it.” You counter snarkily.

“Hm. Tell me, where’s the rest of your crew?”

“What crew?” You ask.

“You expect me to believe that you’re doing all of this alone?” He asks, “I’m not stupid.”

“Agree to disagree,”

He sighs, and stands, “I didn’t want to have to do it this way.” He grabs his gloves and pulls them on, “Until you tell me what I want to know, I’m going to slowly break every bone in your body. Starting with your fingers.”

You say nothing. There’s nothing to say.

He sighs one more time and moves closer to you, and then there’s a loud crash from behind you. His gaze snaps away from you, and onto the door. “Your crew finally arrived, I take it.”

The door slams open behind you, “Not quite.” A very familiar voice drawls, “You see, we got a report that someone was being held hostage here, so naturally we had to investigate.”

You turn your head as best as you can, and see very familiar red armor. Tension drains from your shoulders, “Nice of you to join the party, Commander.” You say lightly.

He presses his hand against your shoulder, and squeezes gently. Several more members of the guard hurry into the room and take the Private Guard into custody for kidnapping.

As soon as they were gone, Fox kneels and cuts the tape holding you to the chair, “Are you alright?” He asks.

“I have a headache, and I’m sure I’m going to hurt tomorrow.” You admit, “Thank you for coming.”

His gloved hand comes up and lightly brushes your cheek, “Yeah well, when your boss called and said that you were being held hostage, I couldn’t not come.” He pulls his helmet off and flashes a small smile up at you, “Tell me you have something that I can use to nail the bastard?”

You smile at him, “Of course I do.”

Fox’s eyes gleam with triumph, “This is why I didn’t fight so hard when you left the guard.” He gently helps you to your feet, “There’s a medic just outside, and then I’ll have Hound drive you home. Come on.”

One hour, and five stitches later, you’re home again, curled up on the couch in one of Fox’s old shirts and a pair of shorts, while you eat some ice cream and watch a holo.

The door to the apartment slides open with a quiet beep, “Welcome home, Fox.”

“Did you at least eat real food before you raided the ice cream?” Fox asks from the door, where he was peeling his armor off. “Also, how are you feeling?”

“Nope.” You reply. “I have a headache, but I can’t take any more medicine.”

He walks over and leans over the couch, pulling the ice cream and your spoon out of your hands, “Pizza?” Fox asks before he presses a light kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re the best.”

“I know I am.” Fox walks back to the kitchen and puts the ice cream away, “Order the pizza we like, please, cyare.” He says, “I need to take a shower.”

You hum in response, opening your datapad and slowly scrolling through the app to order the food that you both prefer. You only just hit the order button, when Fox returns from his shower, wearing low hanging sleep pants and nothing else.

He drops on the couch next to you, and turns his gaze on you, “You know we have to talk about today, cyare.”

You sigh, and turn to look at him, “Yeah. I know.”

“Come here,” You slide across the couch and carefully lay your head on his shoulder. His arm hooks around your waist and he effortlessly picks you up and sets you on his lap. “Are you okay?” Fox asks, as he folds his arms tightly around you.

You hum thoughtfully, “Being a hostage never gets easier, but I’m okay.”

He sighs and his grip tightens around you, “I wish I could tell you to quit that job, to do something, anything, else.”

“Hm. I often feel the same way about you and your job,” You point out lazily.

He glances at you, and then he smiles, “I think you like making me worry.” Fox counters.

“It is nice having someone around who cares.” You admit as you reach up and lightly brush your fingers against his cheek, and then slide your fingers back into his hair.

He stares at you for a moment, and you stare right back, a small smile on your lips.

“...do you have any idea how much I love you?” Fox asks quietly.

Your smile grows, “Enough to let a known thief move into your apartment.” You lean in slightly, “Enough that you came to save me when I was kidnapped.”

He shifts and one of his hands comes up to cup your face, his fingers lightly ghost over the bruise on your face, and his thumb runs across your lower lip. Fox’s gaze is locked on your lips, and you’re helpless to do anything but kiss his thumb.

He exhales slowly, “So.” Fox starts, “So, I was thinking.”

“Always dangerous.” You quip quietly, and he smiles at you, soft and gentle.

“I was thinking,” He repeats, “You know how we’ve been pretending to date so no one looks too hard at you living with me?”

“I do recall that, yes.” You reply with a laugh.

“I was thinking that maybe we could try dating, for real.” Fox says quietly, “You already sleep in my bed most nights anyway, and we do everything together when we’re not working-”

“Well, when you put it that way,” You say quietly, “The only difference is that we can kiss each other.”

“Yeah,” He shifts ever so slightly, and bumps his nose against yours, “And I really, really want to kiss you.”

“What’s stopping you?” You ask lightly.

“I’m trying to be respectful, cyare.”

“Well, knock it off-” You’re barely able to finish your sentence before his lips are against yours. The kiss starts off slow, and hesitant, as though he’s not sure he’s actually allowed to do this, but when you don’t pull away, and you actually enthusiastically respond, he deepens the kiss.

You moan into the kiss, lightly carding your fingers through his hair, pulling a pleased groan from his throat. He tightly grips your hips and pulls you so that you’re straddling him, and pressed flush against him, and he manages that without breaking the kiss.

You feel as though you could keep kissing him all night, if he let you. And, by the way he keeps pressing himself against you, and the way his hands slide under your shirt, he isn’t all that inclined to ask you to stop.

And then the doorbell rings, and you break the kiss. “Our food is here,” You say, sounding slightly breathless.

“You should probably get that,” Fox replies, his hands flexing on your hips.

You shoot him an amused look, and extract yourself from his embrace, to head over to the door, “Will you get the plates and stuff out, please, Fox?”

He sighs and his head falls back against the couch, “Yeah, cyare. I’ll get right on that.” Fox turns and watches you for a moment, and a small smirk crosses his face.

#star wars #tcw #commander fox x reader #fox x reader #x reader fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

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blxxdyivory · 1 month

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Short story on setting a girl free in the woods while you set her up for ... You finish - I like your dark little thoughts ???

Everything is… dark. I feel so heavy and everything hurts… it feels dry and smells like.. nature?

The wind gently moved against her and told her the truth. She felt every cut and bruise on her body. She wiggled her weight to determine how bad the situation was only to be met with sharp pain from every direction.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck FUCK. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!

She heard rustled leaves and snapping twigs in the distance. Leaves being kicked up and falling where they may, sticks trampled and discarded as if they posed no obstacle.

This someone is approaching with far too confident strides to be just anyone. That doesn’t sound like a normal hiker… that person knows exactly where I am. To no avail, she tried to scream in protest of the stranger. She whined a broken cry, her voice hardly came through for more than a split second. She cleared her throat to try again, but it was just the same as before.

This is pitiful, she thought. I can’t even say anything!! Her voice was gravel now and the straining from the makeshift gag forcing her jaw shut was just another addition to the list of things that hurt right now.

The crunching and cracking from the stranger’s path was getting too close for comfort. Fear crawled inside her and made itself at home. A tear on each side soaked into the blindfold as she wept quietly for a moment.

Whatever I did to deserve this I’m so sorry…

She suddenly remembered all the dirty depraved trash she posted and reblogged every day as the stranger got within talking distance. It oddly gave her a glint of hope.

Maybe this won’t be as bad as I’m making it out to be? Maybe he’s hot and he’s here to escort me back to civilization? Maybe he won’t actually try to kill me… what a silly thought.

“Alright pretty girl, let’s get you out of here.” Great. His voice is making me wet while I’m tied to a fucking tree in the middle of nowhere. The knots binding her wrists and ankles to the tree begin being cut one by one.

Starting with the left ankle… odd.

“What a psychopath, he really didn’t want you getting away did he?” He sounded serious but something was off about his tone. He continues sawing the rope as she groans a painful and tired ‘nuh-uh’. Left ankle is free… maybe if I act helpless he’ll take pity on me.

“It’s alright doll, we’ll get you to a doctor… as soon.. as possible. Everything is gonna be okay, okay?”

‘mm-hmm..’ she let her voice trail off to sound as desperate as possible.

“You’re doing so… well,” the rope around her right ankle finally snapped. “There’s your feet for you.”

She let out a sigh of relief through her nose as blood rushed into her feet. After a moment, the tingling blossomed from the restraint points to her toes. It’s so aggressive, there’s no way I’d be able to run away right now anyways. She let her knees drop to the sides while waiting for her sense of touch to return. I could care less if he looks up my skirt right now, I didn’t think I’d ever actually get kidnapped. Tying me to a tree is just cruel. At least lock me in a room or something.

“Must’ve liked you quite a bit to tie each limb to a trunk individually…” he saws away at the knots on her wrists as she feels the cold sting of the blade brush her arm every few seconds. “Don’t lean too much darling, you’ve got rope real tight around your abdomen and chest.”

Great, more being ominously set free in the woods while I wonder if I’m about to get fucked on the forest floor… My eyes and mouth… the blindfold and gag. Shit. “Mmm!” She managed something resembling a voice in panic trying to get his attention up to her head.

“Oh so you are more than just a drowsy damsel in distress? Thought you wouldn’t mind if I got your limbs free first. One moment, my priceless little hostage…” She huffed in protest. Finally, she could tell she had feet again. The static was dissipating and leaving a trail of bruising pressure.

snap — my arms are free! “MMM!”

“Such urgency!” He growled in his unmitigated voice. Almost mocking her helplessness. “Yes princess, I know I know,” he untied the rope locking her torso and chest to the base of the tree and swiftly removed the blindfold. She winced sharply as the light scorched her entire field of view, forcing her eyes shut again while they adjusted.

She pulled the gag out of her mouth and let it fall beneath her chin. The taste of restraint on the edges of her mouth lingered on her tongue as she continued to wet her lips and worked moisture around where the gag was drying everything up inside. “Ff-uck that.. hurts.” She whispered painfully, trying her best to get back to normal as soon as possible. She cleared her throat again and maneuvered the gag up and off her head.

She held out her hand to shake his, “Thank you, sir. I hope you’ll be the one escorting me out of the woods?” His hand wrapped around hers. She fully embraced his warmth and put her other hand on top of his. Veins…

“Escorting you… yeah you could say that.” I don’t like that wording… but maybe I do.. she thought, noting the honey leaking through her panties and trickling down her thighs. His grip loosened and he wrapped the arm behind her, hand resting on her shoulder. “Ready?” She squinted to see if the daylight was still too invasive. It wasn’t. She got a good look at his face and gave him a gleeful nod while admiring the size difference. He kneeled as his other arm went behind her knees and stood back up, pulling her into his arms. “Let’s go.”

He begins the trek downhill through the trees carrying the girl. The fog obscured everything outside of tossing distance and left the air feeling humid and heavy. The sun is falling, she supposed. It was beginning to get dark quite quickly. The trees bounced with every stomp through the leaves as the man continued on down the hill towards—what looks like a possible clearing?

“I’ve always wanted to be carried like this.” He smirked at her, “I can do much more than carry you, doll.” She thought about the implications while she was being ‘escorted’ to safety. She loved toying with the idea of being held up and fucked as hard as he could slam her down on his throbbing dick… but that sinking feeling about him returned.

They finally got close to the clearing…

Something is definitely off, he didn’t even give me a name. He’s not with any intelligence or rescue agency… fuck fuck fu- “You’re too good to be true…”

As quick as the words were spoken were they manifested. Several more trails of movement through the leaves approached them from all around. Four figures broke through the fog with a fifth sounding like a vehicle approaching. Her heart rate spiked up to a visceral pounding, “Oh no no no no nonononono-“

She screamed as a bag went over her head and the vehicle’s engine quaked the world around her.

She heard the trunk open and the man carrying her stopped before tossing her in. “You’re right.”

#blxxdyivory #blxxdy.txt #blxxdy.ask #bd/sm blog #bd/sm community #cnc k!nk #bd/sm relationship #bd/sm dom #bd/sm breeding #bd/sm kink #cnc stalking #cnc kidnapping #nsft concept #cnc free use #cnc fr33use #bd/sm pet

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neymarsangel · 2 years

Text

Secrets - Mason Mount x reader

Mason Mount x female!reader

Summary: The women’s Euros lead to secrets being spilt. How will Declan take the news knowing his best friends have been dating behind his back?

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, implied smut, Euro heartbreak (still not over it)

Word Count: 2.7K

—

The summer of 2021 was one the English would never forget. For the most part, the summer was full of happiness and memories but the night of the Euro final against Italy was one to forget. England fell at the last hurdle, cheated out of the win if you analyse the referee's decision but it was over now. You were there to witness everything. Growing up with Mason and Declan meant you were there to watch their happiest moments on the pitch and their heartbreaking moments.

You’d gone down the same route as they had, football. You were scouted by Celtic and quickly moved to Scotland, leaving the boys for several years. Thankfully the women's league started later than the men's so you were always able to travel back to England to support the two and they’d do the same at the end of the season.

Eventually, you left Celtic and moved back to England to join West Ham, much to Mason's disgust. Declan was enthusiastic, he always bragged to Mason that he got to spend more time with you, always telling him what you’d been up to during training and your free time but the truth was Mason already knew that. You’d been dating Mason behind Declan's back for about a year now.

It all started after the Euro final. Mason was heartbroken and wanted you by his side. You didn’t feel guilty about leaving Declan, he had Lauren by his side, Mason had no one like that. You sat on his bed, cupping his face as you wiped his tears away with your thumbs. Mason looked up at you through his glossy eyes, even when his heart was being ripped into a million pieces he couldn’t help but fall in love with you even more. He already lost the biggest game in his life he couldn’t lose much more. Mason leant forward and placed his lips onto yours, you kissed him back and the rest was history.

“How’re you feeling?” Mason ran his fingertips along your skin as you both lay in bed together. It was the morning of the women’s euro final. England was set to play Germany in a mere few hours, a game in which the men lost and the women had never won.

“Bit nervous.” You looked up at him through the sunlit hotel room.

“You’ll be fine, you’ve scored in every game so far.” He smirked. “Might as well be the female Messi.” A small laugh slipped from your lips as you laid your head down onto his bare chest, your hand reaching up to trace his tattoo.

“Maybe one day.”

“You’ve got the height for it.”

“Oh piss off I’m not that short!” You slapped his chest causing him to laugh and wrap his arms around you, keeping you close. He kissed your forehead as you fell silent. A small sigh fell from your lips, catching his attention. “What’s on your mind?”

“When are we gonna Dec?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

“In the next few weeks.”

“What about today?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Because today is about you, not me and if he throws a fit saying shit like ‘it’ll ruin the friendship’ then that’ll ruin your day.”

“It’ll ruin my day not being able to celebrate with my boyfriend if we win.” You hit back at his words.

“You can celebrate with me.” He moved your head out of your face. “Behind closed doors when he’d not around.” Rolling your eyes you pushed yourself up from his grasp, getting out of bed and heading to the shower. Mason frowned at your actions, pouting like a child as you left him alone. “Don’t be in a mood with me!” He called out.

“I’m not!” You hissed back, turning the shower on before locking the bathroom door.

“Do I get to join?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?” He threw the covers off his bare body and made his way to the door, attempting to open it. “y/n lets not have an argument.”

“We aren’t having an argument.”

“You’re acting as if we are.”

“Your eyes deceive you Mount.”

“You only ever call me by my last name when you’re teasing me or when you’re pissed off and the door being locked is a big sign to me that you’re annoyed at me.”

“You know why.”

“Oh, so we are having an argument?”

“A disagreement Mason.”

“Look I want to tell him but we’ve kept it for so long… that’s what’ll hurt him…”

“And who’s idea was that?” Your tone turned sour at his excuses.

Mason knew you had a point. You wanted to tell Declan after a few months. That was the original agreement. Make sure things worked out first and if they didn’t you’d split and it would never be spoken about again and Declan would never have to know. Evidently, things didn’t turn out like that and Mason and you had already begun to look at properties to move into together, Declan would have to find out soon. Mason was the one who wanted to keep it from him, the lies just built up and it was getting too much. The pressure of the Euros was weighing on your shoulders and the constant lying to your best friend was getting too much.

You opened the bathroom door, your hair dripping wet as you wrapped a towel around your body. “We tell him tonight, I don’t care what the result is and if you won’t tell him then I’ll just tell him myself, without you.”

“You look really hot -”

“Stop trying to change the subject.” Glaring his way you pushed past him to gather your England kit, making sure you had everything in your bag for the game ahead.

“Just stating a point.” A smirk grew on his lips as he followed your movements. He came up behind you, hands on your hips, pulling your back into his chest. Kissing the side of your cheek he started to trail light kisses down your jaw and neck.

“Mase…”

“Hmm?”

“We need to tell him.”

Mason let out a heavy breath but didn’t stop his actions. “We will.” He gripped your hips tighter.

“When?”

“Tonight but if you lose we’ll tell him tomorrow, deal?”

“Deal.” You leaned your head back on his shoulder. “As much as I would love for this to continue I have to get to work.”

“I can be quick -”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Oi.” Mason spun you around so your eyes met his before he lightly pushed onto the bed. He hovered down so his lips ghosted yours. “You’ve never complained before.”

“To you…”

“You haven’t even won the match yet you’re already acting cocky.”

“Learnt from the best.” You pecked his lips lightly as he laid you down. “You might wanna hurry up if you want to do this…”

“You know I think this is why we lost the Euros…”

“Sorry?”

“I didn’t get a good luck shag before I played.” He smirked.

“You’ll get one for the World Cup.”

“I bloody better.” Mason smashed his lips into yours, his free hand coming up to remove the towel as he climbed up onto the bed. Needless to say, you were late for the first briefing of the day.

—

Mason and Declan sat alongside the rest of the England boys who came to support the lionesses. Both of them wore an England shirt with your name and number on the back, proudly displaying their pride for you. The first half hadn’t gone to plan, England had picked up two yellow cards and was yet to score a goal, then again on the brighter side, Germany was also yet to score.

Mason watched as you quickly stormed off to the changing rooms the moment the half-time whistle blew. The brunette turned to his best friend who was beckoning him to follow him out to the foyer for a drink.

He needed to tell him.

Mason followed him, nerves creeping up inside him and not just because of the game. “You alright?” Declan’s voice grabbed his attention.

“Yeah.” He gave him a light laugh, trying to play things off but Declan knew him too well. “Just nervous for the game that’s it, wanted them to be at least a goal up by now.”

“They’ll be fine, we know our y/n, she’ll score.” Declan grabbed a drink for him. “But I know that isn’t what you’re nervous about.” He stared straight at the Chelsea boy. “What’s wrong?”

Mason took a deep breath, sipping on his drink as he felt his heart pounding. “Before I tell you, promise me you won’t take it out on her. She wanted to tell you -” Mason didn’t even need to continue for Declan to put two and two together.

Huffing, Declan cut him off. “How long?”

“Dec -”

“How long Mase? How long have you kept this from me? You two are my best mates and yet you lied to me, how long?”

“Since we lost the Euros.”

“So a year then? You two lied for a year? Who else knew?”

“Only our families, I promise you Dec only they knew and not all of them know. My parents and hers do and that’s really it.” Declan didn’t say anything, prompting Mason to keep speaking. “She wanted to tell you but I didn’t. I was scared that you’d turn your back on us. We planned to keep it secret until we were certain it would work out between us but I got worried, not her. y/n wanted to tell you but I didn’t so if you want to blame and be pissed off at someone be annoyed at me.”

Once again Declan was silent, contemplating on what to say but the sudden cheer of the crowd caught their attention. The second half was starting. Without uttering a word Declan moved past his best friend, screaming your name with the crowd as he took his seat.

A defeated expression fell onto Mason’s face as he took his seat. He knew he’d done the right thing for you, maybe it was a bit late but things are always better delivered late than never but he couldn’t dwell on it too much now, you needed his support.

Thankfully for him, Toone scored allowing England to take the lead. Mason and Declan both roared at the goal but the feeling didn’t last long as minutes later Germany went and equalised. They watched as you let out a string of swears from your lips, throwing your head back in defeat, you and the rest of the nation really didn’t want to lose this game after the men's final.

The game ended up going into extra time and the nerves were getting to you all. It felt like the clock was moving slower with each second. No one wanted it to go to penalties. Declan spared a glance over to Mason who looked as if he was losing his mind. Not only was he riddled with fear of losing his best friend but also feared his girlfriend would lose this game like he did.

“Do you love her Mase?” Declan suddenly spoke.

“What?” He turned his attention away from the game. “Of course I love her, I wouldn’t still be with her if I didn’t. Dec I’d do anything for her -”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” He looked hurt. “Mase we’ve been mates for years, not just me and you but y/n too.”

“She wanted to tell you -”

“But you didn’t so she kept it a secret for you.”

“Yes…”

“Break her heart and I’ll break your kneecaps when we play next.”

A sigh of relief left Mason’s lips, a small laugh fell from his mouth as he spoke. “Thank you and again I am so sorry.”

“Just don’t wait to tell me that you’re marrying her the day before you put a ring on her finger.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t wait to tell me she’s pregant when she’s going into labour although that might be a little harder to hide.”

Mason laughed again. “I won’t, I promise.”

A sudden string of boos rang out from the crowd, grabbing their attention. Both boys looked over to Germany’s goal. You were on the floor, holding your arms out as the referee pointed to the penalty spot.

“That’s your girl Mase.”

“She’s given a penalty to us.”

“And you weren’t even looking when your girl was fouled,” Declan smirked over at Mason.

“She doesn’t know that.” Mason kept his attention on the game. “Who’s taking it?”

“Not trying to scare you Mase but y/n is stepping up to it.”

“What?” Despite being in the boxes, Mason stood up to get a better look, not like it would do much but now we could clearly see that you were standing opposite the goalkeeper with the ball in front of you. “Fucking hell…” He took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. It wasn’t that Mason didn’t think you could do it, you were more than capable of taking a penalty. You’d scored most of the ones you’d taken but after the final, he’d been in he’d never want that guilt to fall to you if you missed.

The sound of the crowd filled your ears but you silenced them. That was one of the first things you’d learnt whilst being at Celtic. The crowd there was one you’d never heard before but Wembley was a different story. The entire nation was watching as the referee blew her whistle and you had to take the penalty. With a deep breath, you took one last look at the goal and ran up and kicked the ball. Aiming the ball in the top left-hand corner you watched as it hit the back of the net, slipping through the keeper's hands. In the last few minutes of extra time, you had scored and put England in the lead with minutes to spare.

The feeling was something you knew you would never feel again for a while. You ran to the crowd, screaming with happiness as they screamed back. Your teammates jumped on your back, ruffling up your hair and screaming alongside you. You looked up to the box where Mason and Declan were sitting and gave them a smile, although you couldn’t see them through the crowd you knew they were smiling down at you.

The whistle blew signalling the game was over. You and the rest of the girls fell to your knees, the tears streaming down your faces. It had finally come home. Mason and Declan made their way down the stairs and towards the pitch side with the rest of your families.

You and the girls were singing along to Sweet Caroline when you caught the eyes of Mason. He ran over, pulling you into his arms, picking you up as he spun you around. Not caring that a camera was right beside you he crashed his lips into yours, cupping your face as he tried his best to not get too carried away on national television.

“You’re the best in Europe.” He smiled.

“Maybe the world soon…” You pushed his brown hair out of his eyes, looking up at him with a soft smile. Your eyes fluttered over to Declan who was taking in the atmosphere. “You told him then?”

“I did. I’m sorry I made you keep that from him for so long, I was an -”

“Shut up Mount.” You pecked his lips. “It’s done now.”

“Thank you.”

“Is he okay about it?”

“He is.”

“See,” You smiled. “I told you that he’d be okay with it.”

“He said he’d break my kneecaps if I fucked up.”

“Well then Mount, better stay on my good side because we play for the same team so he’ll definitely know if you upset me.” You teased him.

“I think the colour blue would suit you better.” He smirked.

“You think so? I was more thinking the colour red…”

His eyes widened at your words. “No…”

“Maybe contract talks have already taken place…”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“Should have told Declan sooner.” You kissed his cheek. “Besides, who doesn’t like a bit of rivalry?”

#mason mount x reader #mason mount x you #mason mount imagine #mason mount x y/n #mason mount #chelsea imagine #football x reader #football imagine

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zgvlt · 2 years

Text

stop and stare riddle rosehearts x reader

summary: Everyone thinks Riddle likes you, and that you like him back, but the truth isn't always so pretty. Slowly but surely, he works through his complicated feelings for you.

tags: gender neutral reader, sfw, light angst, jealousy (and not the cute kind), pre-relationship, rivals to friends to maybe more than friends, academic rivalry, happy/hopeful ending, 8.0k+ words, not beta read

author's note (see end notes for more): This was supposed to be funny, light-hearted, & fluffy, but I wrote and wrote and then the tone changed unexpectedly, but things end on a good note! Happy Birthday Riddle!

you can also read this on AO3

Sometimes, Riddle couldn’t help himself from staring. He knew it was rude to stare so often, but during those few moments—when you would pass him by in the hallways, when you took the same classes as him, when you sat near him during lunch—without fail, his eyes seemed to find themselves drawn to your figure.

Arguably, it was always worse during meal times, when there were no professors or papers to distract himself with.

His lips twitched, inching downwards as he felt his grip on his fork tighten. He was being too reactive again. Maybe he wasn’t actually getting better at controlling his temper.

“Riddle-kun~? You’re meant to eat the cake, not butcher it!” Cater said, and though he tried to keep the atmosphere pleasant with a short bout of laughter and a smile, the redhead knew he was concerned over something , a something Riddle knew he would try to figure out.

Much to Riddle’s pleasure, Cater has always been good at reading the mood, and he’s grateful the third-year was willing to steer the conversation himself instead of waiting for the other to explain.

“You’ve been staring mindlessly for a few minutes now. You’re always helping us as our dorm leader, so Cay-kun will definitely listen if something’s wrong, you know!”

He nodded in response, genuine about his answer. Sure, he preferred to keep his more private problems to himself for as long as he could, confiding in Trey, his childhood friend, if need be, but Cater was someone he could definitely trust with a secret or two, although he had yet to really do so.

At the very least, he was sure that he could let slip some of his more… current concerns and personal feelings without fear of being mocked. Someone not too harsh or disrespectful when it comes to giving advice, but someone not too afraid of him, who would just listen to whatever he says with a nod of approval to mask disapproval.

“And you’ll definitely tell me if you, you know, start liking someone, right?”

Riddle sputtered, quickly using his free hand to cover up the incoming coughs. To everyone else, it might have looked like he had choked on his food, and his dining companion was quick to aid to that conclusion with a glass of water being pushed towards him, but he had not even taken a bite since having begun the topic with Cater. It would have been bad manners to talk with food in his mouth—a disrespect to his conversation partner, and to the chefs who made the food he was eating.

Still, it might have been less embarrassing to have been perceived as having momentarily lost his usual composure as opposed to having someone eavesdrop the topic at hand.

“Haah, where is this coming from?” Riddle slid the glass back to Cater, opting to take a sip of his tea instead. It was a little regretful, his having chosen to take it hot, for a colder drink would certainly soothe him and lower his rising ire. “I see that you’re implying something, so I’ll be setting it straight right now that I haven’t even thought of romance for myself, not since that incident with the bride.”

“Man, it’s really just like you to shut the idea down so quickly… So, are you saying you wouldn’t tell me?”

“How am I supposed to answer something so hypothetical?”

That was to say, he wouldn’t provide an answer regarding a situation yet to occur, but he could envision how he would act. He’d probably keep it to himself for a week or so, just in case he needed to verify if it was actually a crush and not just him feeling affectionate in a heightened platonic sense, and then he’d tell… Trey would act too obvious if he knew, so he would hesitate to tell his friend, so Cater…

Actually, perhaps he would tell no one, for he had a feeling they would unwittingly be the cause of unnecessary dramatics, to put it lightly.

“But if I had to tell anyone, I suppose I would tell you,” Riddle conceded, trusting that the third-year at least had the decency to not post about it all over MagiCam.

The orange-haired boy sighed, almost in relief, as he nodded his head, a few strands of his hair swinging with the motion. “Right! Like, I told everyone if you really did, you’d trust me enough to tell me, but they keep asking anyway! Everyone’s been saying that you…”

“That I…?”

Cater paused, likely realizing a few things, among which were to lower his speaking volume, as well as to word his words very carefully.

“I guess I probably should tell you what they’ve been saying, huh?”

Though Riddle’s not concerned about being the most popular student in school or anything, he couldn’t deny at least being proud of his standing. For Cater to mention it, it must be something different from the usual fear he caused due to the rules he upheld. Even then, at least that fear came with respect.

In an unknown instance like this, was it not natural to care about his reputation being tarnished?

“It’s not bad or anything, is it?”

“Definitely not!” Cater waved his hands around, trying to reassure him that it really wasn’t, “I guess it’s more… neutral territory?”

“Then I want to hear it.” Regardless if it was good or bad, he would have said yes to hearing it, but he was relieved it was not a case of terrible rumors being spread about him. It would be quite troublesome having to find and deal with the perpetrators, after all.

His upperclassman sucked in a breath, looking at the direction he was staring at a while ago, another sigh of relief escaping him as he found the seat empty, the one previously sitting there having long left the table.

“People, as in, a lot of people seem to think that you like…” Riddle could have guessed who was being referred to even with an omission, but he could not help himself from stabbing his fork just a little more through the cake slice at the mention of your name. “As in, like-like.”

“Of course like-like, that’s what a crush is, is it not?” Riddle could roll his eyes in discontent, but he was too preoccupied with the feeling of embarrassment that overcame him. Still, he could not pretend to be surprised at the outcome—he should have been more subtle, or perhaps just not looked at you in the first place.

Though… Did he actually look at you that much? No one else had ever pointed it out to his face before, so he thought he was being subtle enough.

“Hmm… You look bothered, but not surprised,” Cater pointed out, not bothering to mask the hint of surprise lacing his voice. “Eh? Could it be that there’s some truth to the rumors? I mean, in terms of aesthetics, I can see how you would like—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cater. I am not a person who focuses on appearances, but like I’ve already mentioned, I don’t like anyone that way,” and if you ask him, he’s never actually thought about you in such ways—both measuring your attractiveness, as well as seeing you as a romantic prospect. He currently has no time for either or.

“So why do you stare so hard? I don’t know if you know this, but it’s kind of bad . As in, pretty sure even the P.O.I. knows type of obvious.”

With pursed lips, he debated over how to phrase his answer, about how honest he would be over the situation, before simply letting go of whatever hesitations he had left.

“It’s because I’m jealous.”

There was a new rumor brewing amongst the halls of Night Raven College.

New, which meant a whole week had gone by since the rumor first started, or at least so Cater said, and one of two subjects of the rumor had only just found out about it.

It seemed that people were particularly careful about not letting him hear, or perhaps he was simply too preoccupied with other things to really listen in on whispers, because once he learned about it, he could not help but tune in to mentions of either his name or yours.

It turns out that Cater was actually being considerate of him too, because like wasn’t the word commonly uttered—no, people seemed to think that he was in love with you.

Riddle really wasn’t surprised by the outcome of his constant staring, schools were, ironically, a breeding ground for misinformation, though it’s just a little unfortunate that the most likely conclusion for his actions ended up being incorrect, that the truth wasn’t very cute and sweet but was rather… for a lack of a better term, unkind.

Riddle Rosehearts was nothing but the best, not a boast but a fact. Even in subjects he did not particularly excel in, he put in all his effort so that nobody could discount the hard work he had put in. He was intelligent, yes, but years upon years of studying day and night had shaped him that way. It wasn’t just natural and it perplexed him at times, the way people thought he could just break free from his routine, to put his books away and somehow retain his position as number one.

Of course he could not stop.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about it, even though he doesn’t remember much of the details in the first place. The truth had been too muddled by his own perceptions, or perhaps it was a case of him wanting to forget it all. But he could not, and should not forget—he had to remember how it felt to be second, to fuel himself for the next time, because he actually had more stakes in showing the extent of his brilliance.

That day… either he or you approached the other first, and you shook hands and congratulated each other on your respective placements. It was congenial, it was polite, it was the picture-perfect representation of two of NRC’s outstanding students. You smiled, and although it was easy to see it was not even the slightest bit condescending, it still put a bitter taste in his mouth. He wondered if he smiled back.

Among all other things, he remembered most what he had been thinking of. It was not a sudden hatred for you, for he was not so unreasonable, nor had he fallen in love due to your intelligence or capabilities. No, at that moment he remembered his mother, his childhood, and he had been filled with the realization that perhaps, even after everything, he was still not good enough.

Was it fair to you that whenever he looked at you, that moment was all he could really think about? No, and he wanted to stop, and maybe even apologize despite you not knowing anything about what he was feeling, but it was more difficult than he initially thought.

In any other case, he would have made an attempt to disprove the rumors, or at the very least dissuade people from making assumptions, creating rumors about him. After all, it was incredibly disrespectful to the both of you— especially you, considering you were just minding your own business. However, shame over his emotions held him back from doing so.

In the long run, he knew that he just had to study some more, perhaps more efficiently, to catch up to you and earn back his spot as the best student of his year, as he once was before you took that spot. As for the short term, if he couldn’t settle his jealousy right away, then there was always one simple solution—all he had to do was stop looking at you.

Eventually, people would think that he lost interest in you, maybe even realize that they were simply mistaken, and the rumors would die. Everything would return back to normal.

He just hoped that, somehow, you didn’t hear of the rumors, or at the very least refused to believe them. Somehow, the idea of you knowing embarrassed him most of all.

Another week passed before a new rumor erupted in Night Raven College, and much to Riddle’s bewilderment, the both of you were the subject once more. The act of gossiping was something he couldn’t exactly approve of, but if the students really had to, did they not have anything more interesting to talk about? Why were they not old news already? There were bound to be topics far more interesting than a crush he didn’t even have in the first place!

“What is it this time? Don’t tell me people are warping it to something far worse now,” because quite frankly, he did his due diligence to stop looking at you so much, keep his jealousy at bay and manifest that energy in other ways, like just working harder. Less distraction, more concentration mentality.

“No, not at all! Or, at least by my standards, but you might not agree.” There was something about Cater’s words, paired with Trey’s own humming, that had him a little more nervous than he thought he would be. Should be. Why were they all making such a big deal out of this?

“Actually… you know how people think you like… you know who?”

“Haha, you know who? We sound like children. Can’t we say a name?” Despite finding it ridiculous, or perhaps just funny, Trey chose to go along with it. “But you do know, right? Cater said he told you, but I wasn’t sure if you believed him.”

“Hard not to when the evidence speaks for itself,” and continues to speak—endlessly, actually. Everyone was as subtle talking about him as he, allegedly, was when it came to staring at you. Additionally, some braver souls tried to get him to slip up by mentioning your name, giggling and snickering amongst themselves as they anticipated his answer, only to be left disappointed as he neither confirmed nor denied anything, only talking about boring things like your grades and work ethic.

Honestly, in a world where Riddle did like you and he wasn’t too busy covering up something else, he would have had them collared already.

“I thought everything would just die down naturally. What happened?”

“Apparently~” Cater began to say, with a tone laced with amusement, “people think the feeling’s mutual and that you’re both just too shy to do anything about it. Croomfs, as they would say on MagiCam. Oh, that’s short for–ah, Riddle-kun?”

Riddle felt his face heat up, and he had just enough self-awareness to know he must’ve been turning red—maybe out of exasperation, maybe of discountenance, or perhaps just pure fluster. Regardless, he was in utter disbelief at how something could have escalated in such a manner.

“Riddle, calm down,” Trey warned him, likely concerned that he was going to blow up. If you asked Riddle, he thought he was actually doing quite well at being calm. For instance, he wasn’t immediately asking who started the rumor in the first place, or screaming, or stabbing his dessert like last time.

He really did want to scream, though, but he’ll… use up that energy for P.E. with Coach Vargas. Maybe he’ll shock everyone with how much better he’s performing and net himself a higher grade than you.

“You’re both staring at me as if I’ll burst out crying or something. Don’t underestimate me,” he sighed. It was his fault anyway, the reason this all started, so whatever you might have said or done to worsen the rumors would all be attributed to him in the first place. “But I don’t get it. At least on my end there was a reason, but as far as I know, isn’t that much just baseless?”

“Baseless?” Trey exclaimed, clearly surprised at his interpretation. “So you haven’t noticed?”

“Noticed what?”

“Ah, we can’t have our dorm leader stay clueless, can we? Try looking to your left, behind you, but do it slowly so you look casual about it.”

That meant where you usually sat, right? He deliberately sat facing away from your table so he wouldn’t subconsciously stare, but here he was, about to casually look at you—whatever a casual look even meant.

Well, Cater was the expert at things like this, right? Look slowly? He could do that.

He turned his head around, and it wasn’t long before he spotted you sitting at your usual table and in the Queen’s name, did you just make eye contact with him?

Before you could say or do anything, he whipped his head back quickly, staring down his plate of food. From the reflection of his spoon, he could tell he had turned red again, though even if he had not looked, it was obvious by the way Trey tried to cover up his snickering with unconvincing coughs.

“So cute, isn’t it?” Riddle didn’t know what or who Cater was referring to as cute , but maybe he preferred not to know something, just this once. “You get it now, right? You’re being stared at, too~ isn’t the conclusion natural?”

Were you really? He was trying not to stare at you, so obviously he wasn’t going to notice you looking if he wasn’t looking.

“It’s most likely a case of trying to figure out why I was staring in the first place,” Riddle excused, though he found it to be a very logical reason. Despite not knowing you very well, he figured you wouldn’t be the type to have feelings for someone you’ve had less than 20 conversations with, a majority of which involved the word congratulations or good job .

“Wait, why were you staring in the first place?” Trey asked, “I mean, I do have my suspicions, but Cater wouldn’t say. He was bragging about how he knew something about you that I didn’t.”

“I’ll explain later,” because talking about it in the cafeteria, he realized, was probably a bad idea. Quite honestly, he was surprised no one had learned the truth—all they had to do was eavesdrop on him. “I just don’t get it. We’re not even friends, so how are people jumping to these kinds of conclusions?”

“Because people like to romanticize everything, duh! Will they, won’t they, strangers to lovers, or maybe even a secret relationship type of beat! So shippable! ♪”

“Haah , I don’t… no, never mind. The issue is, how do I get the rumors to stop?”

“You could talk about it? With, you know, since you’re both in the same boat now,” Trey supplied, though Riddle had to disagree. He’d thought about that too, but…

“Might just worsen things. People will see it as relationship development instead,” Cater said, seemingly having thought the same as Riddle. Honestly, he just hoped he could think of something to do to finally put everything to rest.

It’s for both of your sakes. He wanted to be able to focus on studying without thinking of you, or having people think he likes you.

Plus, although he can’t exactly say he likes you, he still respects you as a fellow top student. There was no way you could be dense enough not to notice, and even if you were he was sure your friends would have told you about him. Surely you were bothered by it, and that you were just being nice by not chewing him out.

Actually, did you even know you fanned the flames towards the rumor?

Riddle wasn’t one to rely on fate, but perhaps he should have gotten his fortune read by Cater, and maybe then he would have been warned of what was to come exactly a week after.

He had always been good at practical magic, with the upside that it was one of the few subjects he was confident he was better at than you, so he always looked forward to attending this class in particular. However, the teacher seemed to want to change his mind.

It wasn’t unheard of to have a partner for a project, but professors usually went by alphabetical order, or just let students choose their own pairs. If not that, then some professors would put who they deemed more responsible with the troublemaker, just for one to keep the other in line. He’s had his fair share of the latter.

What he had not been expecting was having to choose a playing card from what seemed to be an incomplete standard deck, the professor clearly having taken some out to match the number of students in the class.

“Remember, your partner will be someone from the same suit as you. For instance, two of spades pairs with three of spades, four with five, six and seven, eight and nine, ten and Jack, Queen and King.”

He looked at the card in his hand, the Queen of Hearts. Why did she look so daunting so suddenly, when he idolized her all this time?

“Riddle?”

Right. He might have not relied on fate, or even luck or karma, but he just had a feeling something like this would happen.

It was interesting how a few simple actions could blow up to something more in the eyes of others, almost fascinating to observe had he not been one of the two subjects being analyzed. At his position, it was just irritating.

“The King of Hearts,” even without eyeing your card, he would have known. Things that had him in disbelief seemed to just keep happening these days. “You should sit down, then. So that everyone else can go back to what they were doing.”

He really couldn’t help himself then, but it was truly becoming more vexing as time went on. Plus, it was difficult to hold any regrets when you seemed to agree.

“Yes, it would be bad if people couldn’t focus because of us.”

Aside from the lone cry of how unfair it was that the top two students got paired up together, it was obvious people were amused at the coincidental pairing. He turned to properly look at you—it’s been a while since he’s done that—wondering if you were irritated or flustered, but you seemed more bemused than anything.

“If the cards weren’t shuffled in front of us, I would have said the pairing was rigged,” you commented as you strolled over to him, a chair dragged with you as you sat down by his side. “Sorry. This is likely my fault.”

“No. I won’t deny that it’s worsened, but you just… everyone who escalated it to such an unreasonable degree definitely has fault as well, but I do take blame for having started it,” by staring at you in the first place, but why were you staring at me as well by the way? Even after I’ve stopped? I know it’s definitely not romantic, and you don’t seem to glare in contempt, so what do you feel towards me?

“It’s fine, I don’t really mind. Rumors just come and go.”

Well, you didn’t seem to hate him, that or you were a really good actor, but you seemed to be honest enough. Admittedly, he had his doubts about how long it would truly take for this specific rumor to go away, but he would not deny feeling less guilty. If you could ignore it, then he should have that same ability too.

“Yes, you have a point,” Riddle said with a hum, procuring himself a notebook and pen, “so, let’s get planning, shall we?”

Riddle had to admit, it was so easy to get jealous of you, but you were probably the best groupmate he would ever have. Yes, he still had his bouts of inadequacy, discontent, how you could possibly manage to contest him in academics, but with that came admiration, respect, and currently, appreciation .

There was just something about being able to split parts equally, the way he can trust you to actually do your assigned tasks, that your research would come from reliable sources and be properly cited, and that your work would require only little corrections on his part, perhaps some suggestions.

In the same light, receiving not merely praise, but actual well-thought out critiques from you was something he liked more than he cared to admit. Just praise, particularly about his intelligence, was normal, if not expected. Just insults (and not critiques, there was a difference) did nothing but anger him. You were not just efficient, but well-mannered.

It was nice to have someone reliable like you.

“I was listening to your debate, during history of magic,” you suddenly said, just as the two of you began discussing the next step of your project, “it was incredibly enthralling. Of course, that is to be expected considering the topic was about the Queen of Hearts’ governance, of course you know a lot about her, but it was clear you don’t just read from the textbooks, but you create your own analysis as well by comparing multiple accounts and taking into consideration perspectives of past and present. Your opponent hardly stood a chance.”

But it still annoyed him, just a bit, how likable you could be. It made him feel guilty for how he inwardly antagonized you in his head, the way he saw you as an obstacle to beat so he can claim his spot as the top student of the year. Even worse was how he couldn’t quite get rid of those feelings completely. He could forget about it for a while, but then it would just… come back.

He needed to get a grip.

“You remembered that? That was a month ago, wasn’t it?” He was sure you were referring to the time Professor Trein had them debate about the Great Seven—it was rather heated, considering every student happened to have a favorite they were particularly passionate about, and it was no surprise he chose to talk about the Queen of Hearts herself. He was from Heartslabyul and the Queendom of Roses, so was it not a given?

Still, he was proud of himself for his performance back then, even if his opponent, as you said, didn’t stand a chance.

He wondered how things would have turned out if you were the one he had to go against. How would it feel to lose, and yet have a fulfilling discussion? How would it feel to win? How much different would it feel to win and to lose if it was against you?

“But there’s no need to flatter me. Public speaking is something I’m used to, so writing speeches and reciting them comes naturally to me now.”

“Mhm? If that’s the case, then I’m glad to be paired with you. Ah, not that I wasn’t already,” you said with a laugh. It was such an odd statement to make, in a way. First of all, it wasn’t like you needed his help, you would have done well with anyone as your partner—of course you would, you had to be number one for a reason. Second, he hadn’t expected you to actually verbalize it. Third,

“Really? I thought you would want to avoid having me as your partner,” because he certainly did, “because of the rumors, specifically.”

“Oh, you’re still concerned about those?”

Riddle liked to address the rumors as though he didn’t care about them (when he truly did), telling people off for whispering and gossiping in general, but there was a stark difference between him and you.

With one question he could tell you never truly cared about it, like it was white noise you could simply tune out. He envied how nonchalant you seemed, the realization that he might’ve been the only one who was bothered and bothered to think about how to get the gossip to die down.

“You’re not?”

“I’m looking on the bright side is all,” you said, though he wasn’t sure what advantages there were in having people assume he liked you, or you liked him, or that the two of you were secretly dating. “But the reason I’m glad to be paired with you is that I finally have the chance to talk to you… and work together with you. I mean, we share a few classes, and we’re both top students, but we don’t really talk. I thought we’d get more chances to talk.”

While you seemed to be telling the truth, there was something artificial about your tone, causing Riddle to wonder what you honestly thought about being his partner in the first place. He didn’t want to doubt you, but he just did.

“You do have a point. We’ve never been paired up together before,” and, really, had Riddle paid that much attention to you before you landed yourself the top rank? Thinking about it now, he doesn’t remember much of you from his first year.

“Exactly. Plus, I’ve always thought you were a good person, trying to help both your under and upperclassmen. But I’ve always just seen you do things, does that make sense? I just feel it might be nice to actually get to know you this time, don’t you agree?”

Did he agree? On one hand, he won’t deny that he’s enjoyed himself, finding it pleasant talking to you, and to add to that the project has been nothing but smooth sailing. On the other hand, becoming your partner for this project didn’t do anything to remove his jealousy, it just made him hate himself for being jealous in the first place, towards someone who’s talked nothing but kindly about him, to him.

Worse, apart from academics, he’s found other things to be jealous of.

“Yes, I’m glad the feeling is mutual,” Riddle finally replied, and then he had to remember the rumor at the worst possible time. He knew neither of you were talking about romance, but why did he have to choose that word? The word Cater used?

“Riddle? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” not quite, but he would be, as soon as he stopped thinking about it. You didn’t care about the rumor, so he should work harder to get it out of his head as well. It would be better if he stopped caring about matters to do with you overall. “I believe I just need some fresh air. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of this before, but it’s said that pacing as you study helps you memorize things faster. For our script, it might be a good idea to—”

“Oh, that’s a great idea, Riddle!” He found himself naturally smiling at the comment, only to momentarily freeze in his seat when you continued, “Since we already have our first draft, we could exchange lines while going on a walk. We can consider this our first dry run!”

Riddle let out a noisy exhale, despite knowing it was bad manners to do so. It was a good idea, and it would certainly allow the both of you to have good chemistry while presenting, but he could just see how walking around the school together would bring more attention to the both of you.

“Just leave your things here. No one would dare steal from you considering you’re my,” Riddle let out a small hum, “partner.”

It was a difficult affair, attempting to carry an air of nonchalance about him, but he attempted to do so anyway as he unlocked the door, allowing anyone and everyone to peer into Heartslabyul’s private studying room and just who he had been there with.

For once, it was actually silent in the dorm, although he wished the students had carried on with their usual noise and ruckus if it meant he could walk by your side without the feeling of being watched and observed, scrutinized. It was that feeling that had him subconsciously walking ahead of you, the pitter-patter of your shoes remaining behind him even as the both of you left the Hall of Mirrors, you having taken hold of his arm, or rather what of the fabric you could reach.

“You’re not the King of Hearts, are you? Try not to tug on my sleeve so much.”

“The card—never mind. The point is—” you gripped him a little harder this time, stopping your walk in the middle of a deserted hallway, “the point is that this is less pacing as much as it is you speed walking and leaving me to play catch up. Can we even memorize this properly with you trying to be two steps ahead of me all the time?”

At the start you had tried to play your comment off like a joke, but at your failure to sound convincing you had turned to a serious tone. Though you sounded composed, it was different from your previous politeness, all except for that hint of artificiality he had detected before. An illusion had been shattered—that friendliness and kindness, while not entirely dishonest, had been enhanced to put up a distance, one that would allow you to observe him.

Riddle realized that although the reasons were not the same, you were bothered by him as well.

“I’m not trying to be,” he insisted, despite having to turn his head back to address you properly.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that you are, and that being seen with me is something so detestable,” you were hissing now, not unlike an irritated hedgehog, needy for attention and yet warning him to keep a distance. The irony of the thought was not lost on him, considering what you seemed to want was to close it. “It truly makes me wonder how people even thought you liked me in the first place.”

“You never believed it?”

“Obviously! What kind of—” as if realizing just where the both of you were standing, you tugged on his sleeve again, taking the chance to lead him into the nearest empty classroom. Maybe the both of you should never have left the privacy of the study room in the first place.

You sat yourself atop one of the desks, a good blind spot to hide away from any passersby outside. The choice had Riddle heated, not for the blatant disrespect of school property and lack of manners, but how he knew the closer he got, he would find that you would tower over him, look down on him. It was what compelled Riddle to not seat himself on a table of higher elevation, but to walk towards the teacher’s desk—if only to assert control; if not over the conversation, then himself.

“Of course I never believed you liked me! Just because you stared at me?” you scoffed, as if it was not reason enough. For Riddle, who simply accepted the unfortunate circumstances he had been placed in, thought it was a fair explanation for his staring. “You always looked so heated and angry, like you were glaring at the sun. I thought I was imagining things, but now I know you must actually hate me.”

“Except I don’t hate you. Could you not put words into my mouth?”

“Fine, if you don’t hate me then maybe you just dislike me, or being associated with me. Stop the rumors then! They’ll listen, or at least shut up about it in front of you!”

“It’s not hate or dislike, for goodness sake!” Riddle cried out, his temper and his desperation for you to understand his feelings finally getting the better of him. He strolled up to you and sat himself at the desk right next to you, suddenly uncaring of the rules and decorum. “I want to explain, I just can’t!”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“Can’t, ” he asserted, “not properly. I don’t know how to tell you. You won’t understand.”

“Just try me.” Although the remnants of your flames persisted in the air, the furrow of your eyebrows had lessened. “I just want to resolve this. Was it something that I did?”

Something you did? Riddle laughed inwardly, and on his tongue he tasted the bitterness he had felt all this time. It had to be the accumulation of you doing everything right.

“It’s your rank ,” Riddle began to say, already discomfited by your incredulous stare. He knew that look, he had seen it on so many people, but he was disquieted by how you of all people had mirrored it as well.

“ Grades? All this because of that? Riddle, that’s—”

“You don’t have to tell me, I already know! I don’t want to be jealous of you, and I already know it’s wrong that I feel like this when you’ve only ever treated me well, but my pride and my ego demands that I blame you for my own shortcomings, even if the truth is, I only have myself to blame.”

The words escaped his larynx like blazes, his haste to get everything out leaving him near breathless upon finishing what he had to say. Except, the more time passed he found himself not being satisfied with his explanation. Just as his jealousy had been needless, he just as much wanted to not be hated by you, to be misunderstood by you.

To say he hated, or even disliked you was so blatantly wrong because he did like you—not in the manner that people presumed, but in the sense that he wanted to be considered more than just a classmate or competitor, but your friend.

“I respect you, and I might even admire you even more now that I’ve learned more about you, but it’s not stopping me from feeling jealous. What am I supposed to do about this?”

The setting sun might as well have risen with how much time had passed since getting a response from you, but when you finally do, you look at him not with disdain, or disgust, or resentment, or even pity. Contemplative was the word Riddle chose to describe it, like you were simply trying to understand him.

“That’s just the thing. Even if you like someone, it might not go away,” you shrugged like it was nothing, but when he tried to look at your eyes he could tell you were answering him as seriously as you could, “so there’s no one solution to something like that. Maybe if you get to know me more, you’ll stop feeling jealous, maybe not completely, or maybe I’ll be the one to find something to be jealous of when it comes to you.

“Or, who knows, maybe you’ll find a healthy way to cope with it, or maybe avoiding me once our presentation is over really is the way… but looking at you now, you don’t seem to want that either.”

He wondered just what expression he had been making for you to read his thoughts so easily. He had only begun ignoring you because he found himself becoming too aware of you, and an action of force had soon become instinctive.

“I’m sorry,” Riddle said, not really knowing what else he could say, “I’ll make sure to make it up to you.”

“Let’s both cool off first before we even think about that,” you replied with a laugh, slipping yourself off the desk to walk towards the door. Riddle had yet to follow suit. “No more scripts or academics for the rest of the day. You should do the same as well.”

It has been a while since he had felt the need to abandon his studies so early in the day, but the redhead agreed with your sentiments, already feeling the need to distract himself with dinner before eventually holing himself up in his room to do nothing but think.

“Just one more thing, before you go,” he said, inhaling a whole gust of wind in his nervousness, “you don’t hate me for this, do you?”

“No.” The word had come out a bit shaky, as if you were unprepared to answer him. As Riddle did not know better, he had an inkling that perhaps you were lying, to a degree, even though you’ve been far more honest with him than him with you. You wouldn’t look back at him either, even after you cleared your throat, inhaled through your nose.

“No,” you repeated, and gone was the emotion Riddle could not describe, so quick to return to a composure he wished he possessed, “I’m frustrated is all. Let’s… reconvene tomorrow.”

He escorted you back to the study room to retrieve your things, walking not quite side-by-side, and yet horizontally aligned.

True to your word, the bouts of jealousy didn’t stop, not entirely, but the more he accepted it, the more he opened up and told you about it, the faster it subsided and gave way to something else—appreciation, and if he were to be honest, there was part adoration as well.

Last he heard, some time after your presentation and right before the both of you chose to scold people outright, the both of you were going strong, described with a word not to be used lightly. Riddle, even now, would dare not to use that word with you, far too strong and too soon (because it seemed everything to do with you was an inevitability), but even in the mess of himself, of his emotions and things still left unresolved, he thinks he might like you.

He will at least use the lesser word.

In the same way that the jealousy didn’t, he did not stop finding you likeable. If anything, the more he got to know you, and actually know you instead of making assumptions about you based on what you presented in front of him, the more he liked you, the more curious he got of you. If before he simply respected your work ethic, now he admired you even outside of it.

“But why did you decide to suddenly take studying seriously?”

“It probably had to do with me being terribly jealous of you in my first year,” you said it like you had rehearsed for that specific question everyday for the past few months, but now that Riddle had a better idea of what you were like he could tell you weren’t as calm as you pretended to be. It was with that observation that he allowed himself to freely express his shock.

It was not that he was surprised someone was capable of being jealous of him, he’s very well aware that there are things to be jealous of, but the fact that you were had shocked him to his core.

“I’m sorry?”

“I thought you were one of those naturally smart, know-it-all snobs who looked down on everyone not as smart as them, so…” you faltered, as if suddenly forgetting your lines. “...but, you know, first impressions don’t always last. I saw how you even took the time to help your upperclassmen with studying, so I guess I just resolved myself.”

“Study to forget?”

“More like… inspired,” you supplied, hesitant with your wording as opposed to unsure of your thoughts, “instead of being, for lack of a better word, a hater, I told myself that I should just work as hard as you… I might have overdid it honestly. Do you think I’m overdoing it now?”

“As long as you’re not pushing yourself too much,” Riddle said, despite knowing he was quite the hypocrite himself. Maybe that was why you didn’t call him out for it, because you had your moments of being one as well.

Or perhaps it wasn’t quite hypocrisy but a mutual understanding, having seen a reflection of themselves, someone they’ve been and something they’ve done in the past. Rather than hypocrisy, was it not a kindredness shared between the both of you?

“But I really never expected to surpass you or anything, and by one point too!” you sighed, and once more Riddle found himself surprised at how he felt nothing at the reminder. “Really, of all ways to get your attention. Maybe I should have broken some rules instead.”

“Why is it that you only want to draw negative emotions out of me?” Riddle joked, or at least hoped it had come across that way. “But why would you want my attention anyway? Because you wanted to be my friend?”

“Huh?”

You had not meant to let that part slip, Riddle realized. It bothered Riddle—having to hypothesize what it possibly implied.

“Oh, yes,” you agreed, but no matter how convincing you could get yourself to sound, Riddle found it difficult to believe. “There’s that, and then wanting acknowledgement I suppose, since I was trying so hard to be as good as you. Kind of like a prize. Gratification. I thought it’d be nice if you admired me the same way I did.”

Oh . No wonder you had been so upset with him.

“And then I just glared at you every day for a month or so.”

“Well, we’re past that now, aren’t we? It worked out for us in the end,” you laughed. This time, he was sure you were being completely honest with him. “You do admire me, don’t you?”

“Must you clarify things you already know?”

Again, he found himself envious of how you could say such things without getting as frazzled and warm and crimson as him. He tries to do the same anyway.

“I do admire you.”

He ignored the beating of his heart in order to watch you smile, as if there was nothing in the world you wanted to hear more. So this was the look of gratification, the feeling you so wanted from him. It matched you well.

“I guess there is one more reason,” you replied suddenly, “but I don’t feel like telling you right now.”

“Then when?” he pried, curious like the people of the Queendom of Roses were known to be. He only asks when, for the whys are obvious to him. Whether you tell him something good or bad, the end result will be–

“We won’t be able to focus on our revisions if we keep talking about this,” you said, conveniently bringing up your upcoming exams to switch the topic, “if we slack off any more, I wouldn’t be surprised if Azul snatched up the top spot this time around. Jamil, too. You’ve noticed his grades, right? They’re—”

“Then after exams,” Riddle interrupted, as though he had not been listening at all. He had been, it was more of him not even foreseeing anyone coming close to either one of you. You were the only one he would accept losing to, although he was sure he would come out on top this time. “We can discuss it after exams.”

“You make everything sound like it’s going to be a properly planned event, but fine. If you–if I beat you, I’ll tell you all about it. And don’t expect me to go easy on you to chicken out of it.”

“Is that so? What will you do when I rank first, then?”

“Make up your own incentive!”

Riddle sighed. Although no one was forcing him to, he wanted to even out the playing field, just to make things fair for you. “Then let me be the one to tell you something.”

“Do you have something to tell me?”

“Not yet,” Riddle turned back to his papers, realizing he must have been staring at you for who knows how long. “Maybe by the time the results come out, I’ll know how to tell you.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see you look away from him as well, trying to hold back a grin. You were excited, and if he did not know it was his alchemy notes you were looking at, he would have wondered what you were smiling at.

“Then stop staring and start studying,” you replied without so much as looking up—maybe you just felt his eyes on you, or perhaps it was a case of you staring when he was not, just like the rumors used to say. Cheekily, you added, “you can look at me later.”

“You’re so troublesome,” Riddle said, inconceivably fond.

Perhaps a time will come where when he goes to stare at you, you’ll be staring, too, gazing with nothing but—

end notes | masterlist

[1] The King of Hearts often tugged on the Queen's skirt to get her attention. Line taken from Riddle's SR Labwear.

[2] Jealousy is difficult to get rid of. The idea that it can just disappear because you befriend someone, or end up loving someone is just untrue. If anything, I think jealousy feels worse when it's towards someone you actually like, because the guilt just consumes you. You want to stop, but how? I wanted to show how it's not that liking Reader got rid of his jealousy, but more that for himself and reader, he works on getting through it in healthier ways, and the importance of communication.

[3] In characterizing Riddle, I wanted to highlight how even though he really does try to rule with his head, a lot of the time he acts instinctively.

[4] Also, I was wondering if Riddle's thoughts and emotions were too much of a mess, but looking back at it, I decided to keep it messy. Jealousy is messy. When it comes to the reader, he really just is all over the place, from flustered, to wanting to avoid them out of guilt, to anger, to any other emotion under the sun. He's no good at sorting out his emotions, a contrast to reader who hides it (until they don't).

[5] In characterizing the reader, at first I wanted them to be pure and nice and give good advice, but the more I thought about it, I thought Riddle would be good with someone who could argue with him as well, someone who knew when to "put out the fire with water" and when to "fight fire with fire". By going for the latter, I thought it better showed Riddle and reader as equals, turning a one-sided rivalry feeling into something mutual. Similarly, reader's one-sided admiration becomes mutual.

[6] I hope people are alright with the ending. I think that the both of them still have a lot of room to grow into that, and grow as people too, but I wanted to establish that they do like each other, they (Riddle in particular) just have other things to deal with first, and hint at the inevitability of them getting together, maybe not soon but sometime later. Maybe I'll write a follow up, maybe I'll just leave it up to you.

[7] Why does the ending line cut off? Because Riddle thinks it's too strong a word for now.

#twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #riddle rosehearts #twst #riddle rosehearts x you #nathya twst writing #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland

573 notes · View notes

callsigndragon · 1 year

Text

Seeing Red | Ch. 39: Labels ✍️

Word count: 3k

Warning: SERESIN FAMILY FLUFF, some tension 😏, bit of angst, let's cry again, Redman needs to unleash some tension, and they dO, SMUT AHEAD. Jake being a tease, Red being needy, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, and well, enJOY IT.

A/N: CAN SOMEONE SEND ME AN ASK TALKING ABOUT THE VOWS SO I CAN RAMBLE ABOUT IT? THANK YOU.

Also, can you comment if you got tagged on this part? Bc I think I'm having some trouble with the tags :(((

Masterlist on pinned

The planning behind this trip must have been absolutely crazy. When you get to the airport, there’s a person waiting for you to get you to your hotel. Jake was talking about renting a car once you landed, but it seems like you have a free ride to the hotel.

“Bubs, you need to sit down.” Jake chuckles, knowing how his words are falling on deaf ears.

“Look! The sea is orange.” Liam chimes, jumping up and down on his father’s legs.

“Guess we won’t be able to go to the beach today.” You mention, looking at the orange ocean and the setting sun on the horizon. The view is breathtaking.

“We’ll get dinner and head to the room. It's been a long day for this little prince.” Jake replies, kissing Liam’s head. “Maybe we can plan the places we want to see tomorrow.”

“We need to find that submarine tour so Liam can see the turtles.”

“Tutles! Can we see them now?” Liam turns around, grabbing his dad’s face. You’re starting to believe that he does this knowing that Jake is unable to say no to anything he asks when he grabs his face with his little hands and looks into his eyes.

“They’re getting ready to sleep now, bubs. We can see them tomorrow, okay?”

You lean back, watching the exchange between them. It’s been a few days since he told you the truth, and even though a part of your brain tries to keep those thoughts away to protect your poor heart from the suffering, another part of your brain can't stop thinking about a tiny kid, somehow looking very similar to Liam, wandering in a gigantic mansion. Dark and infinite walls rise in front of him at every step he makes, blocking his way out. The kid eventually sits down, tears welling up his eyes but not falling. They never fall.

He can’t break down.

“Cherry, are you listening?”

You shake your head, focusing on him. “Sorry, did you say something?”

Jake chuckles, kissing your forehead. “I said that we’re here. Let’s get to the room and freshen up a bit before going to get some dinner.”

You nod, grabbing your bag before getting out of the car.

Turns out your friends really got the three of you a suite. The two-bedroom suite is on the 33rd floor of one of the tallest hotels on the island. The main room has floor-to-ceiling windows and the most beautiful ocean views you could find. The other room, more appropriate for a two-year-old, doesn’t have such views, but Liam’s priorities are going to the beach and finding the turtles.

After a wonderful dinner at the restaurant, you come back to the room with Liam already asleep in your arms. The walk to the elevator is quiet, as if you two were afraid that the kid could wake up. However, deep in your soul, you know that both of you are thinking the exact same thing.

He’s thinking how that beach dress you chose fits you perfectly, adjusting itself in all the right places, making his mouth go dry.

You’re thinking how that white shirt he chose highlights his tanned skin, with two buttons down showing you enough of his chest to make you drool, and the platinum ring in his dog tags, shining every time you glance his way, isn’t making it any easier.

“There was a bottle of wine in the room, did you see it?” He mutters once you enter the elevator, pressing the button that takes you to your floor.

“No, I didn’t. I was more worried about taking dangerous things out of Liam’s room, actually.” You whisper back, adjusting Liam’s shirt, that keeps rolling up. “You want to open it?”

“Well, it would be a shame not to.” He shrugs, not wanting to push the idea any further in case you don’t feel like it.

“You find the glasses, I put him to bed.” You make your offer while not looking at him. Why are you shy all of a sudden? It’s not like you’ve never had sex with him before. You’re holding the proof of it in your arms right now.

“Deal.”

Liam wakes up when you are trying to take off his shoes, and you have to spend the next fifteen minutes singing to him until he slips into Morpheus’ arms. You love your son with every cell of your body. But he had to wake up the only night you didn’t want him to.

You get up from the bed, heels in hand, and tiptoe all the way out of his room, closing the door behind you. You let out a breath once you’re outside. As you walk around the suite trying to find Jake, you see him sitting on one of the sunbeds with two glasses of wine resting in front of him.

Leaving the shoes outside, you ran your fingers through his hair while getting yourself a glass. “Sorry, Liam was so excited about the turtles he didn’t want to sleep.”

“If he doesn’t get to see a turtle before we leave, I’ll riot.” He says this while sitting up and looking up, his green eyes locked with yours. “White suits you, my love.”

You smile, feeling the heat on your cheeks. “You’re also wearing white.”

“Just trying to match.”

“You should be wearing a dress for that.”

“I didn’t bring it with me, sorry.” He laughs, his hands moving to your hips, bringing you closer. The number of times that this same position has ended with you two in bed is countless. The look in his eyes, however, tells you that he is thinking about something. Something really important.

“What’s going on around that pretty head of yours?”

“I need to know where we are.” He whispers, his hands moving up to your waist.

“I assume you don’t mean what island we are on right now.” You joke, swallowing the lump of feelings. You knew this moment would come.

“You know I don’t mean that.”

You sigh, placing your hand on his shoulder as support while you sit down on his lap. His hands circle your body, finding their place on the small of your back. “We’re together, if that’s what you want to know.”

“I know that. But… is that it? Are we just together?” He insists.

“You want us to marry again, right?”

He nods, his hand traveling up your body and resting on your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “It’s the only thing left for me to fix. Will you marry me again, Red?”

Your heart throbs against your ribcage, almost ready to explode. “I’d love to.”

He sighs, his head falling in dismay. “Why do I feel there’s a but?”

“Because there’s a but.” You lift his chin, leaning down to press your lips softly against his. “Jake, I love you. I love you with all my heart. And I know it’s the first time I've said that in years, but I mean it. I love the Jake I married, but I also love the Jake I see in front of me. The loving, doting father who would stop everything for his kid. The excellent leader that you are. The reliable friend. The marvelous son and the protective brother. I love all these new layers I’ve been discovering for the last month.”

“Why does it feel like it’s not enough?” He mumbles, his voice breaking at the end. You feel like a monster for doing this to him.

“You’re more than enough. In fact, I feel like I’m not enough for you. You’ve changed so much, and the only thing that has changed in me are my boobs!”

Jake looks at them. “Well, they are bigger.”

“Thanks.”

“But you’ve changed, too. You’re more patient and caring than you were before, and I don’t know if that’s possible because you were already all those things. You brought up Liam alone. You’re amazing, Red.”

“Don’t make me tear up.”

He shakes his head, smiling softly. “You didn’t explain it to me. The but.”

“When we got married, you knew there were risks, right?”

He nods. “I feared that my father would find out.”

“What makes you think that when we ask for a marriage license, your father won’t find out somehow?”

Jake’s head falls, his forehead pressed against your chest. “He’ll find out, yeah.”

“It’s not just us anymore, Jake. We need to consider all of the possible outcomes." You remember him, running your fingers through his scalp. “And I would love to walk down the aisle again and see you and Liam standing there, waiting for me. But we can’t.”

“I ran away from that house, but it’s like I’ll never run away from him.” He bemoans, hugging you tightly.

“Hey, there’s another but.”

“Go ahead.” Jake doesn’t raise his head, he’s waiting for the next blow.

“I still have your surname.” You say, his eyes search yours once he hears something that piques his interest.

“Go on.”

“We practically live together.”

“Yeah.”

“We have a kid.”

“A wonderful kid.”

“And we still have our wedding rings with us.” You finish, trying to prove your point.

“So you mean that we’re basically married.”

“You said that this morning, remember? And I don’t need to sign a paper to call you my husband.”

Something flashes in his eyes. "Say that again."

"You first." You smirk, challenging him.

"My beautiful, beautiful wife." He kisses your jawline, shivers running down your back. "Did I tell you that I love you?"

"No, you didn't." You whisper, tangling your fingers between his locks.

"I love you, Mrs. Seresin. You're the love of my life."

He takes off your dog tags, opening the chain to get the rings. You do the same.

"Once I manage to get that man in jail, I'm proposing again. And we'll have a big wedding with our family and friends."

"That seems like a dream come true." You close the chain and return the dog tags to their rightful place.

"Do you remember your vows?" He asks, sliding your engagement ring onto your right hand.

"Yeah, I do. Are we reciting them again?"

"I want to." He grabs your hands, kissing your left ring finger, just like he did on your wedding day. Then, he clears his throat, a soft smile spreading over his lips. "I choose you again and again, at the start and finish of every single day, no matter the season, no matter the year. I choose you to struggle and succeed with, to fight and make up with, to love and grow old with. I choose you knowing there are still trails we must travel, knowing there are mountains left to climb. I choose you to always be by my side."

He wipes a tear away from your cheek. "I'm hearing them for the second time, but it makes more sense now, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I thought that too." He agrees with a sad yet loving smile on his lips.

"My turn." You caress his cheek, and he closes his eyes to enjoy the moment. He opens them again once he hears you take a breath. "I can't promise you that dark clouds will never hover over our lives or that the future will bring us many rainbows. I can't promise you that tomorrow will be perfect or that life will be easy. I can promise you my everlasting devotion, my loyalty, my respect and my unconditional love for a lifetime. I can promise you that I'll always be here for you, to listen and to hold your hand, and I'll always do my best to make you happy, and make you feel loved. I can promise that I'll see you through any crisis, and pray with you, dream with you, build with you, and always cheer you on and encourage you. I can promise that I'll willingly be your protector, your advisor, your counselor, your friend, your family, your everything. I promise you." Jake's tears make you cry even more. "Why are we like this?"

He chuckles, almost choking up. "I don't know. Maybe we jinxed our marriage with the vows."

"Honey, it was jinxed before we met each other."

He slides the platinum wedding band onto your left hand. "Right where it belongs."

You smile, repeating the same action. "You're ten times hotter with that ring, Mr. Seresin."

"Is that so, Mrs. Seresin?"

You nod, kissing him passionately. You feel his hands moving over your body, hugging and grabbing everything they can reach. It starts softly, turning into passionate and impatient touches that leave your whole skin burning. You feel the ache between your legs. An ache that must be satisfied before the night is over, or you will consume.

He pulls away, breathing heavily and chuckling when you follow him, not wanting the kiss to end. “If we keep going on like this, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop. I missed you so much.”

“Don’t you dare stop now.”

His lips travel down your neck, kissing and nibbling the soft skin all the way down to your breasts, still covered by the fabric of your dress. His facial hair tickles your skin. "Jake."

"Yes, love?"

"I need you." You demand between breaths, unbuttoning his shirt.

"We need to be quiet. Well, you need to be quiet." He commands, his hands catching yours

"I'll be quiet, please. Just touch me." You beg, wanting to feel him somewhere, anywhere, everywhere. You just want him. Him. Him.

"Where's the tough Commander now, huh?" He mocks, placing his hands in your ass to hold you tight while he gets up from the sunbed. He stands in front of the bed, pondering his choices. "What should I do with you?"

"You're an asshole." You whine, leaving kisses on his neck, your teeth biting softly at his earlobe. He groans, dropping you on the bed.

"You married this asshole."

"I'm already regretting it." He kneels on the floor, grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer to the edge. His hands travel up your thighs, getting lost under the skirt of your dress.

"If you regret it so much, I can go sleep with Liam." His thumb presses against your covered core as he whispers dangerously close to your lips. "My sweet girl, you're a liar."

A soft mewl leaving your lips when he touches you. “Stop teasing, Jake.”

“I don’t know. You’re cute when you beg.” He takes off his shirt, slowly, one button at a time, even though there aren’t many left. You had almost unbuttoned all of them before. His eyes wander over your body, orbs darkened by lust. “What would everyone say if they found out that the badass, legendary Red Queen begs to be touched?”

“Jake, please, please.” You close your legs, rubbing them together, wanting to feel something that soothes the aching.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He slides your panties down your legs, laughing amusedly at the content sigh that escapes from your lips once his hands touch you again. “You’re so wet already and I haven’t even touched you.”

You grab him by the dog tags, pulling him closer. “It’s been three fucking years, Jake. You have two choices, you fuck me or you fuck off.”

“Nobody can fuck you as well as I do, right?” He says, kissing the inside of your knee while traveling up, leaving open-mouthed kisses on his way to your dripping cunt.

“Nobody has tried.” You confess, one hand gripping his hair and pushing him closer to where you need him.

He bites the inside of your thigh, your body jerkin up at the sensation. “You’ve been waiting for me?”

You roll your eyes. “No, I just didn’t have time.”

“I won’t make you wait anymore, then.”

And he doesn’t. While he laps up your folds, you can hear your own wetness as you close your eyes and beg the almighty that Liam doesn’t wake up because you need this. You really need it.

You moan softly when Jake lifts your leg and rests it on his shoulder. His tongue moves to your clit, lapping and sucking at the swollen bud of nerves in a rhythm that has you clasping a hand over your mouth to not moan out loud.

“When we get home, I’ll make sure we have the house to ourselves one night. I want to hear those little sweet sounds you make when I touch you.” He whispers, his hot breath hitting your core and making you shiver.

“T-that would be nice.” You manage to say, biting your lip to stop the lewd sounds that want to come out when Jake pushes one finger inside you. He moves his finger in and out, squelching sounds filling the room.

One finger becomes two. And then three. You lay down, the tension in your lower abdomen, a tension you haven't felt in a long time, becoming too much for you to sit still, your body covered in a fine layer of sweat. Jake has a dirty mouth when it comes to sex, but he knows how to use that fucking tongue.

He’s always been a giver.

“You’re close, sweet girl?” He raises his head, his mouth gleaming with your slick. You nod, and he stops moving his fingers. Your whines make him chuckle. “Use your words.”

“I’m close, Jake, please.” You moan a little too loudly, his free hand moving up to your mouth, inserting his thumb into your mouth, giving you something to do with your mouth.

“Come for me, Mrs. Seresin.” The words come out of his mouth in a raspy voice, sending shivers down your spine. The knot that has been tightening in your lower abdomen snaps. The mind-numbing orgasm crashes through you, your body shaking more and more as Jake’s fingers never stop moving. You push him away when it becomes too much, watching as he licks your arousal from his lips before kissing you. "Better now?"

"Much better." You nod, smiling and kissing him softly.

"Good. 'Cause that was only round 1." He whispers, taking off his pants.

Seems like it's going to be a long night.

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