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the-great-lightwood-bane · 2 years

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pull me closer

Malec | Rated general | tw mention of Jace's abusive childhood, panic attacks | Post-Canon, Jace Wayland-centric, Sexuality Crisis, Pansexual Simon Lewis, Pansexual Jace Wayland, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Light Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending | Bingo Square: Pansexual

Summary: For most of Jace’s life, his assumption that he was straight went unchallenged.

Jace is definitely not straight and in love with Clary. That doesn't change just because Simon's cute and funny and brave and— well, Jace is straight, so obviously he doesn't like Simon that way. (Right?)

A/N: Many thanks to CJ for beta'ing this for me!

This work was created for the Shadowhunters Pride Bingo presented by the Malec Discord Server. @malecdiscordserver

Read it on AO3 or below the cut.

For most of Jace’s life, his assumption that he was straight went unchallenged.

After all, he did like girls — more than Alec did, at least — and he was pretty sure he liked them more than boys. So what if Jace also noticed how hot some boys were? Didn’t everyone? Wasn’t it, like, normal, to appreciate people who looked good?

(Alec noticed how hot boys were, which served as Jace’s proof that they were both totally straight until he finally figured out how gay Alec was. This realisation, sadly, failed to make Jace question his own sexuality.)

After all, he didn’t, like, particularly want to kiss a boy. He was curious what it’d be like, sure — who wasn’t? — but he’d always hook up with a girl when they went to a club. Some boys were hot, but more girls were hot, and that was enough confirmation for Jace that he was straight. Very straight.

The first time he questioned his firm commitment to hetrosexuality was thanks to Meliorn, who was — well — attractive. But Seelies didn’t exactly do gender the way that mundanes and Shadowhunters did; Meliorn was simply androgynous enough that Jace’s very straight perceptions noticed he was hot. That was all, right?

But then there was Simon, and, well — he was cute. Nerdy, and he definitely talked too much, but it was actually kinda… adorable. And when he was rambling, Jace now found himself wanting to shut him up by kissing him, which was — probably not straight. (Probably.)

Except Jace was straight (wasn’t he?) so it didn’t make sense. He was in love with Clary, not Simon — and anyway Simon was clearly caught between his crush on Clary and his crush on Izzy (he ignored the pain he felt at the thought), so it wasn’t like anything would happen. (Of course nothing would happen. He was straight.)

He did not have a crush on Simon Lewis, no matter how cute he was or how funny his Star Wars jokes were (now that Jace actually understood them) or how warm he felt when Simon smiled at him.

The thing was, he kinda… wasn’t in love with Clary anymore. If he’d ever been. When they’d first met, there’d been that instantaneous feeling of oh, it’s you, I’ve been looking for you — but that was more their shared angel blood than any sort of soulmate-y connection. They’d both translated it into a romantic love (or at least a crush), which had made it really weird when they’d thought they were siblings, but then they’d realised they weren’t and somehow they’d just — assumed that meant they were in love. And before they’d had a chance to breathe and think about what they meant to each other, Clary’s memories had been stolen, and Jace had spent a year in heartbreak and never questioned the idea that he was in love with her.

But then, she’d gotten her memories back, and while he was overjoyed she was back, he didn’t feel that all-encompassing attraction anymore. Perhaps it was partially because her extra angelic blood was gone now, but it was also that he simply didn’t love her like that anymore — he loved her like he loved Alec or Izzy, more like a sister than a girlfriend.

That was why, even when she was back properly and she remembered them all, they hadn’t really gotten back together. Well, hadn’t gotten back together at all — they hadn’t talked about it, hadn’t kissed. Jace was privately relieved, and immediately felt horrible because if Clary was still in love with him— but it wasn’t like she had tried to get them back together, either—

The longer it went on, the awkward if consensual not talking, the more certain Jace became that he wasn’t in love with Clary any longer. (And no, that did not mean he was in love with Simon; that was a ridiculous thought. Jace was straight, dammit. Straight. Liked girls. Didn’t fall in love with cute nerdy Daylighters. That was all.)

<hr />

So, when Clary came into his room and declared that they needed to talk, he felt a complicated mix of trepidation, guilt, and apology.

When Clary explained that she wasn’t in love with Jace anymore and that she’d fallen for Izzy instead, that was all replaced by relief. He grinned at her, told her that he wasn’t in love with her either, and accepted her hug with a perceptible loosening of the shoulders. (It had nothing to do with the fact that if Clary and Izzy liked each other, neither of them would start dating Simon. Nope. Not at all.)

She proceeded to explain that she’d just “accidentally” kissed Izzy — how a kiss could be accidental, Jace couldn’t fathom — and then panicked about Jace and ran away. Jace promptly had a revelation about the looks Izzy had been discreetly sending Clary for the last month or so, huffed, and informed her that if she didn’t go down, apologise to Izzy, and kiss her properly, Jace would assign her to train the new recruits for the next six months.

Clary blanched, grinned, and then took off — hopefully for the lab where Izzy was likely swallowing back heartbreak. When she showed up four hours later with messy hair, a shirt on backwards, and her hand held tightly in Izzy’s, Jace beamed as brightly as either of them.

But that still didn’t really resolve Jace’s problem. (Not that there was a problem — he was straight! Obviously!) He still couldn’t stop thinking about Simon, about how surprisingly brave he was beneath his constant chatter and jokes. If he was straight — which he was — why was he feeling butterflies in his stomach when Simon smiled at him?

He decided to talk to Alec. Alec would, of course, tell Jace that he was straight — which Jace already knew! He just wanted extra confirmation, that was all — and then Jace would be able to figure himself out and not worry about not being straight. (Not that he was worrying about that, because he was straight.)

<hr />

Alec looked up impatiently from his reports as Jace came into his office, but his features softened as he took in Jace’s expression. “What’s up?”

The story came spilling out. Clary, and the confusion of falling out of love; Simon, and the cute way he smiled and made Jace’s heart beat faster.

For a moment after Jace was done, Alec blinked at him in silence. Then, he said with absolute certainty, “You’re not straight, Jace.”

Jace was silent. He’d thought — he’d expected Alec would confirm he was straight, not deny it; he shook his head, almost unaware of what he was doing, head spinning. “No, I’m — I’m straight, I thought—”

Alec opened his mouth to say something else, but Jace reached blindly behind him for the door handle, turned it, and left Alec’s office at a run.

He didn’t know where he was going; his head felt like a mess, thoughts spilling out in random bursts that only confused him more. He was straight — he thought he was straight, he believed it, he’d always been straight; now the world was spinning because Alec didn’t think he was, and he felt that bloom of warmth in his chest whenever he thought of Simon, and panic was curling tighter and tighter around him.

Far enough away from Alec’s office, Jace sat down hard on the floor, back to the wall, legs curled up to his chest. He was breathing quickly, too quickly, but his thoughts were spinning even faster and he didn’t know what to think, what he was, who he was, who he wanted to be — or to be with.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him, why he was like this — Alec was gay, and that was fine; Magnus was bi, as was Izzy; Clary was lesbian. It wasn’t — it wasn’t that he thought it would be bad to like men; it was just that he’d thought, assumed, for so long — and now he knew he wasn’t straight, that he was bi or pan or omni or poly or something like that, he wasn’t — it’d been a part of him, a part of his identity, and irrational panic was rising irrepressibly in his throat.

And, he realised with a second burst of shock: he had a crush on Simon. He’d been vaguely irritated by the mundane-turned-vampire-turned-Daylighter at first, with his constant chatter and references that nobody else got except sometimes Clary, but over time he’d grown to know Simon better, to like him better; a reluctant affection had bloomed into something more, into an attraction that Jace could no longer deny.

It wasn’t just butterflies in his stomach, it was a warmth in his chest — it wasn’t that all-encompassing heat he’d found with Clary, driven by angelic blood and adrenaline; it wasn’t like any of the other girls he’d dated, either, quick and fun but not deep. Perhaps that was why it’d taken him so long to realise that he liked Simon that way — because it wasn’t like any of the other romantic relationships he’d had.

With Simon, he admired more than Simon’s looks. He admired his quiet bravery that so often went under the radar; his constant desire to cheer up the people around them, to comfort them if he could, to stay with them if he couldn’t; his determination to do what was right that nobody — not even Simon — seemed to notice because it was such a fundamental, simple truth. Simon was a genuinely good person, and Jace didn’t know what to do with that.

Because this wasn’t just a crush. This was more; it was deeper, warmer, longer-lasting; it was a glow and not an inferno, a quiet constant rather than a burst of sound that died away too quickly to see clearly, and shit, he was in love with Simon Lewis—

But Simon was probably straight, and didn’t he have a crush on Izzy, or Clary, or both? He’d never mentioned not being straight, and while Jace knew it was possible that he liked both boys and girls — like Jace did, apparently — that didn’t mean Simon liked Jace. And if he did like Jace, he would’ve said something, right? His crush on Clary had been clear enough; he’d never showed any similar signs with Jace, which meant that he probably didn’t like Jace back—

“Jace?”

A voice, one he recognised, but he couldn’t think to put a name to it because his head was spinning wildly with panic that wasn’t helping him figure anything out, at all, and he was fairly certain he was having an panic attack which he hadn’t had since he was six and Valentine had snapped him out of it with a dagger through the shoulder that’d taken months to heal since he was too young for an iratze; perhaps that was why his love life was doomed to failure, because he’d been raised by a genocidal sociopath—

“Jace!” The voice was sharper now, pointed, and suddenly there were hands on Jace’s shoulders, calming him, bringing him back to earth. “Shh, take a deep breath with me—”

“Simon,” Jace managed, and while Simon’s presence probably should’ve made everything worse — it was, after all, about the fact that he was in love with Simon that he was panicking — but instead, his voice was somehow soothing.

“In, two, three, four, out, two, three, four. That’s good, just keep breathing, you’re going to be okay.”

Jace obeyed almost automatically, inhaling and exhaling on Simon’s pattern, feeling his heartbeat slow and his head clear. He opened his eyes and looked up, black spots he’d barely noticed fading from his vision as he took in Simon’s concerned frown, the cute little divot between his brows, his pursed lips, his brown eyes looking at Jace with worry, but not pity. Simon didn’t pity people, and Jace was infinitely grateful for that.

“You alright?” Simon asked him, hands still on Jace’s shoulders, and Jace felt abruptly, viscerally aware of how close together they were. He decided to blame his too-fast heartbeat on the panic attack.

“Fine,” Jace said reflexively, and Simon arched an eyebrow.

“You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to, but you don’t seem very fine.”

For a moment, Jace hesitated, but the words came tumbling out before he could make up his mind that he didn’t want to. “I — I’m just… having a minor sexuality crisis, I suppose.” He huffed self-deprecatingly. “I… don’t think I’m straight.”

There was something complicated in Simon’s eyes, but Jace didn’t have the brainpower to decipher it before it was gone again. Simon shifted to sit more comfortably, hands falling away from Jace’s shoulders, and Jace did his best not to mourn the loss of contact. “Uh. Congratulations,” Simon offered, slightly hesitant.

“Thanks,” Jace returned dryly. “You deal with my panic attacks better than Valentine.” He didn’t almost say my father this time, which was progress, but the name still brought a complicated mix of emotions — fear and hatred uppermost, of course, but Valentine had raised him, and it could never be that simple.

Simon huffed, leaning back on the wall of the corridor facing Jace. “That’s not very high praise, you know.”

Jace shrugged. “Probably not. Still — where’d you learn how to calm me down?”

“I used to have panic attacks all the time,” Simon replied. “Notably, one over the realisation that I’m pan” — Jace kept his face carefully blank at the reveal, quashing the hope that rose almost automatically in his throat — “but I had them over other stuff, too. You know, school, bullies, stage fright, being nerdy, having a crush on Clary, band stuff, no reason in particular — or actually a bunch of them at once, that happened a few times too, especially when my band had a performance at the end of term so I also had a ton of schoolwork—” He cut himself off. “Sorry, I’m rambling.” (Jace rather wished he could punch everyone who’d ever made Simon think he needed to apologise for talking.) “Point is, Luke used to help me deal with them, so I’ve got an idea what it’s like, and how to deal with it.”

They were both quiet for a moment. Jace wasn’t sure what to say; the panic was abating, but it wasn’t gone yet, blurring his thoughts. Having Simon there was calming, though, and despite the silence, he relaxed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Simon offered, only slightly hesitant.

Yes, actually. Jace usually didn’t like talking about feelings, but was happy to talk about anything else; with Simon, oddly, it was the reverse. Silence was comfortable — especially odd, seeing as Simon talked a lot — but Jace was also comfortable talking about more… private things. He usually resisted the urge, if only to keep up his cold-hearted persona, but sometimes — like now — he didn’t. “I always just — assumed I was straight, I guess. I mean, I do like girls, and I never really… thought it meant anything, that I sometimes also liked guys?” He shook his head. “It sounds dumb now, because I’m — I mean, I do like boys, but I didn’t… didn’t think it meant anything, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Simon said amicably. “Heteronormativity and all that. You don’t question it until it comes and slaps you in the face.”

“‘Slaps you in the face’ sounds about right.” Jace managed a small smile, hoping Simon wouldn’t ask what that slap in the face had been, because it’d been Simon himself, and pan or not, Simon didn’t like Jace that way, and everything would get… awkward.

Thankfully, Simon went on without asking. “For me, it was this guy in my band — he left a little while later, moved somewhere else, but while he was still playing with us, I kept noticing that he looked really cute with a guitar. And I was crushing on Clary at the time, so I didn’t really think about it for a while, but at some point I realised that I liked him in, like, that way. So I had a bit of a crisis — Luke found me, I came out to him, he reacted pretty well, gave me the courage to come out to my mom. And she didn’t really get it, she’d heard of being gay but not really being pan, but she figured it out and she was pretty supportive by the time I got involved with—” he gestured around them, as if to encompass their whole lives, the Shadow World and all that it entailed “—all this.”

Jace knew that Simon hadn’t been able to talk to his mother since he’d become a vampire. She thought he was dead, and while Jace hadn’t known her at all, he felt a dull stab of sympathy for Simon’s pain. Right now, however, didn’t seem like the time for him to bring that up; there was a touch of melancholy in Simon’s voice, but he didn’t seem like he wanted to linger on it. “Seeing as Izzy’s bi and Alec’s gay, I doubt I have to worry about not being accepted.”

Simon chuckled, though Jace’s words barely counted as a joke; at least it was light-hearted enough to distract Simon from his mother. “That is an advantage. I remember, when I first got here, I thought everyone would be straight, and now…”

“Yeah, we’ve all come out as some sort of queer over the last two years,” Jace agreed. They’d all grown as people, too, from irresponsible children to adults (Jace, Clary, Izzy, and Simon) or closeted teenagers to confident Inquisitors (Alec). There was probably a metaphor somewhere in there. Between Clary, Simon, and Magnus coming into their lives with a bang and the numerous near-death experiences of the last two years, there’d been plenty of reason and time to mature.

“What about you? I mean, are you pan, or bi, or omni, or—?” Simon asked, tilting his head to the side.

“I… don’t actually know,” Jace said thoughtfully. “What — I’m sorry, I don’t really know what the… difference is, between those?”

“Depends who you ask,” Simon said. “Some people distinguish between them — like, bi people are attracted to both men and women but in different ways, while pan people are kinda attracted to everyone regardless of gender, and poly people are attracted to multiple genders but not necessarily their own — but then a lot of people just choose whichever one they like best. I mean, the fact that there’s a ‘pan’ in ‘panda’ definitely factored into my decision, plus I like the colours better. And I’ve known people who’re omni because they like the flag better, as well as people who really think one of the definitions fits them best.”

“Huh.” Jace considered that for a moment. Izzy and Magnus were bi — they’d both dressed up in pink, purple, and blue at Pride, complete with colourful makeup and skimpy clothing which, in Magnus’ case, had made Alec blush — but that didn’t quite feel right for him; he liked the splash of yellow across the pan flag, standing out sharply against the other shades. Like Simon. “I — I like pan, I think.”

“That’s great.” Simon grinned encouragingly. “And you can, like, change your mind or whatever if you decide something else fits better.”

Jace nodded. The panic that’d risen so sharply in his throat was nearly gone now, soothed away by Simon and their conversation and Simon and the settling of his thoughts and Simon. Mostly Simon.

“If I may,” Simon said, an odd note of hesitance in his voice, “what made you realise you weren’t straight?”

Shit. Jace barely managed to keep the swear from spilling out of his mouth, because this was exactly what he’d hoped Simon wouldn’t ask. He’d just — lie, make something up about seeing one cute guy too many—

But Simon was looking at him with something almost like hope in his eyes, something tentative and uncertain but there, almost like Simon was hoping for a particular answer, and that gave Jace the courage to answer honestly.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t beat around the bush a little. “Well, I talked to Alec, expecting him to confirm that I was straight, and he told me I definitely wasn’t. That was what brought on the realisation and minor panic attack.”

Simon hummed, that strange hope/wish/desire in his eyes that Jace couldn’t quite decipher, and Jace went on. “But I — the real reason I started questioning it, even if I couldn’t admit it to myself, was because of you.”

He’d lost the courage required to look at Simon properly, eyes falling to his hands in his lap, and he didn’t know what face Simon was making. “It’s because I realised that I’m in love with you — have been for a while, really, though I was too steeped in denial to recognise it at first. I’d convinced myself I was in love with Clary, but I’m — I’m not, I don’t know if I ever was, if it was anything but adrenaline and angel blood that pushed us together. When you and Clary were dating, I told myself I was jealous of you, but I was really jealous of her.” He hesitated, but Simon still didn’t say anything, so he went on. “I love the way you ramble when you’re excited about something, and I hate that you’ve been told so often that you talk so much, because I like listening to you talk. I love how much joy you get from Star Wars puns or jokes that nobody but Clary and me really get. I love how brave you are, even when you don’t think you’re being brave, just doing what’s necessary.” The words seemed to flow almost without Jace’s volition, all the feelings he’d denied or holed up in his soul coming spilling out of his lips. “I have no idea if you feel the same way, but I can’t — I can’t lie about this any more. I love you.”

He finally dared to look up, and found Simon staring at him with wide eyes and a smile dancing at the corners of his mouth. “I love you too,” Simon said.

For a moment, Jace blinked, and then he felt the hope in his chest burst into joy that brought a grin to his lips. “Of course you do. I’m irresisti—mph.”

Simon cut him off with a kiss, and Jace’s brain went blank at the touch of his lips. His hands came up almost automatically to cup Simon’s face, to pull him closer, and Jace thought for a delirious moment that he wanted to stay here, like this, forever.

Unfortunately, breathing was a necessity — if only for Jace, thanks to Simon’s vampirism — and he eventually had to pull back. Jace met Simon’s eyes, warm and brown and full of love that he scarcely believed he could ever deserve.

“I love you,” Simon said again, and Jace’s smile brightened almost involuntarily.

“I know,” he replied, and Simon blinked at him for a moment in surprise.

“Did you just quote Star Wars at me?”

“I listen when you talk,” Jace told him, “and your jokes are a lot funnier when I know what they’re referencing.”

Simon beamed and kissed him again.

#fic #my fic #tsc #tmi #jace lightwood #jace herondale #jace wayland #simon lewis #jimon #jace x simon #alec lightwood #clary fray #mdsevent #pansexual #Shadowhunters Pride Bingo 2022 #tw abusive childhood

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chateautae · 3 years

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the most wonderful time of the year | kth. (m)

➵ summary : taehyung hasn’t seen you since high school graduation, but when he finds himself in need of a date for his friend’s annual christmas party, running into you is like a godsend; especially when he once had feelings for you, and little did he know, you felt the same way all along.

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre : nonidol!au, f2l, fluff, smut

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 19k

➵ warnings : mutual pining, sexual content, swearing, dom!tae, cuddling resulting in over the clothes stuff, rough fingering, oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, big dick!tae cause we know he’s packing, marking, restraint (with his own hands), choking, begging, unprotected sex (wrap it up peeps), hitting it from the back 😜, mirror (?) sex (reflection of a window), rough sex but then i love you sex, praising, slight humiliation, denied orgasm, creampie, aftercare

part of ksmutclub’s winter project 2020!, using prompt #7: “did everyone else come with a date?”

➵ a/n : thank you to @getmemyfries for beta-reading and constantly reassuring me about this fic, idk where she’s been all my life 😭, but surprise!! would you believe me if i told you guys i grinded this in just 3 days?? because YES i did, 19k in three days as a Christmas gift pretties, happy late holidays!!, comments and feedback are always appreciated <3

“Are you serious, Jimin?”

“Very. I don’t know how you didn’t get the memo, literally everyone was talking about it.”

“Did everyone else come with a date? There has to be at least one person who didn’t.”

“And that one person is you, Tae. Did you forget that I made the theme all about mistletoe? Who did you expect to kiss under it, me?”

“Super funny, Jimin. I just got really busy and I don’t even think I was paying attention to you.”

“Well, it’s your loss now, everyone came with a date and you’ll be third-wheeling the whole night. You can’t blame us either, it’s cuffing season and you know it.”

“Do I really have to come? I’ll just spend Christmas with my family.”

“And ruin their vacation with your annoying ass? What a lovely son, an even better best friend for ditching my party.”

“Okay, Jimin, I get it. Just-fuck, alright, I’ll find someone. Please tell me you didn’t plan anything too couply in case I have to bring an absolute stranger.”

“Hmm, I’ll think about it.”

And Jimin cut the call without a second to spare.

Taehyung stood there baffled, appalled by his best friend for not even having said goodbye. But then again, maybe he really deserved it. Taehyung had just become too busy with his job this year to even think about Jimin and his friends’ party, allowing it to inhabit the back of his mind and loom over him for weeks, though not giving it the time of day he should’ve.

And now he’s stuck in a situation he doesn’t know how to get out of. The party is in just two days, how exactly was he supposed to find someone that would even agree to accompany him?

One, they would have to be someone explicitly bored on Christmas Eve. Two, comfortable with meeting complete strangers and spending an entire night with them. Third, they would have to be willing to even fake-date him.

Taehyung knew he could at least satisfy the third requirement with just a smidge of his charm and good looks, though the real issues were the other two requirements, especially the first one.

Who the fuck is ever doing nothing on Christmas Eve?

These are the exact thoughts that clouded Taehyung’s mind, sighing heavily as he dejectedly sauntered into a coffee shop after work. It wasn’t the usual place, but he decided on a new one in search of a possible partner; even if it were a stranger from a different coffee shop, he’d take what he could get.

It’s precisely why he began scanning the room just enough to discern any potential date as he waited in line. With his hands in his pockets, lips buried into his plaid scarf that draped over his brown winter coat, and attempted to make eye contact with any female he thought eligible.

He spotted some cute girls, though made quick judgements about them not fitting his requirements; some meeting boyfriends, family, yapping away about Christmas plans as though the whole store needed to hear about it.

Pulling out his phone, he considered he had some female friends, maybe co-workers he could convince to tag along. It sounded like a great idea in his head, though when he scrolled though his contacts carefully, he found himself coming up short once again.

Not only had he seen his friends’ stories, all flaunting their very apparent Christmas plans, but even more so his co-workers having literally informed him about either flying back home, meeting family or easing up far, far away on a tropical beach.

And he definitely knew there’d be no one available.

All of it made Taehyung feel deflated once he had placed his order and waited patiently by the store’s counter. He thought he was royally fucked, needed to forego social etiquette and just ask a damn stranger at this point.

Sighing yet again, he mindlessly looked over to the side, catching a glimpse of the person ordering after him with a voice he suddenly recognized. Taehyung’s eyebrows immediately shot to the sky once he took a double-take, a near injustice to say he was only shocked.

He was practically floored, had to rub his eyes a few times just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Surely he’d lost it after the gruesome shift he just pulled at work, because he was pondering how in God’s name was he seeing you of all people ordering.

How the hell did you manage to look 100x prettier than you used to, Taehyung thought. It was no doubt you; your smile still charming as ever, your hair still elegantly soft, your eyes still naturally sparkling under every Christmas light in the store just like they always did.

It was really you.

The same you he knew all throughout high school though moved away after graduation, the same you who was brilliant at every subject though could never understand math, the same you who waltzed into school with that plaid winter coat anyone could recognize you for, the same you who always teased him about his love for pineapple on pizza because you could never comprehend the taste.

The same you he once liked.

It was actually you, bundled up in a gray winter coat and white scarf as you smiled a thank you to the barista, eventually making your way over to the counter Taehyung was situated at, settling next to him without having noticed.

Taehyung thought you were an angel sent from heaven, a Godsend, his one and only true saviour once he studied you up close, concluding that you weren’t just some mirage but in fact his real-life friend from years ago who could possibly rescue him from this Christmas party fuck up.

And so he didn’t waste a single, valuable moment, because you know what they say, ‘carpe diem’, oh captain my captain.

“Y/N Y/L/N? Is that you?”

Your surprised eyes snapped towards the oddly familiar low voice, eyebrows shooting up once you resgitered just who exactly said your name. You seemed to be in the same disbelief as Taehyung, himself utterly grateful you’d actually recognized him.

“Oh my God, Kim Taehyung?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Taehyung laughed shyly. “Damn, how long has it been? 5? 6 years?”

“6 years, yeah.” You confirmed with a smile. “Since graduation.”

“I can’t believe that was 6 years ago, seems just like yesterday.” Taehyung couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off his face remembering the chaotic party by the lake you all threw together, resulting in someone nearly drowning, Taehyung downing more alcohol than he ever had in his life, and you shamelessly shoving everyone into the water until you eventually capsized yourself.

Taehyung had to collect himself to coherently speak sentences again, nearly feeling his neurons incessantly firing off in his brain. “But wow, when did you come back to town?”

“3 months ago, I was transferred for work.” You informed casually, though your sweet smile was infectious. “Wow, I’m.. I can’t believe I ran into you here.” You were honestly still shocked, marveling at the fact you somehow bumped into Kim Taehyung, the Kim Taehyung from high school.

The same Taehyung who teased you about being terrible at math, the same one who only ever brought strawberry jam sandwiches to school and God forbid someone ever took a bite. The same Taehyung who was the cute social butterfly everyone completely adored at school.

The same Taehyung you once liked.

“It doesn’t feel long indeed, but you look.. different.” You did a light scan of him, noticing just how how much taller, more handsome and manlier he appeared. It was reflected in the edge of his jawline, crisp face structure and broader upper body.

Quite frankly, he looked incredibly striking, almost intimidatingly so, and you could only think about when Taehyung used to appear a little scrawnier, lankier though still attractive all the same with his adorable eyes and plushy lips.

It was nearly daunting to see the gorgeous difference now.

“You look different too.. good different.” He added with a smile as he looked you over, and it was pleasant to see he still had that same boxy smile, the same little creases at the corner of his eyes. Though instead now, his smile looked devilishly handsome, and it was hard to not trip over your own feet about it.

“You too. You’re so much taller now.” You commented, craning your neck just to converse with him.

“And you’re still short, huh?”

Your mouth flew open, scandalized at the comment though laughed when he chuckled at your expression. “Oh c’mon, you’re still gonna tease me about how short I am? It’s been six years, Taehyung.”

“Hey, don’t think it’s not payback for all those times you lectured me about how ‘inhuman’ liking pineapple on pizza was. I still have your PowerPoint presentations saved.” Taehyung retorted through a laugh, remembering the way you’d really take the time to conjure up presentations just so he could be unconvinced of the preference.

“Okay, okay. You got me. Is there ever a way I could make it up to you... Assistant Curator Kim?” You read the lanyard that hung around his neck, inspecting it to see his ID photo along with his job title.

“Ah,” Taehyung exclaimed, scrambling for the lanyard. “I was in a rush to get out of work so I left it on by accident.” Taehyung explained a little embarrassed, unhooking it from around his neck.

“Why were you in a rush?” You knitted your eyebrows together, only asking out of innocent curiosity, though Taehyung lit up like a Christmas tree, knowing this was his golden opportunity and he was definitely going to take his chance.

“Uh.. do you still remember Park Jimin and the rest of our friends?” Taehyung started.

“Oh my God, of course I do! You’re all still friends?”

“Unfortunately, yeah. I mean, even when we get tired of each other we know nobody else will put up with us, so we’re still close.” Taehyung snickered, remembering him and his friends were still the same 7 dorks from high school.

“Awh, I wish I could see them, we used to have so much fun together.” You pouted, shoving your hands into your pockets as you recalled amusing memories from years ago; stupid adventures to the lake by your school, chasing the sunset, knowing you probably incessantly bothered the owner of that one gas station you always visited.

“Actually, the reason why I was rushing was because Jimin holds an annual Christmas Eve party, and this time around he made it a ‘bring-a-date’ memo, and I kinda got too busy to remember.” Taehyung began scratching the back of his neck, a little shy considering he didn’t really listen to Jimin when he should’ve.

“Ohh.” You nodded understandingly. “So you forgot to get a date?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung confirmed, nodding with some disappointment in himself. “But say, you mentioned a favour, right?” Taehyung eyed you knowingly, hand never leaving his neck as he forced himself to get the question out. “Are you doing anything on Christmas Eve?”

You were a little taken aback, thinking you knew exactly where he was going with this, and also thinking it was a damn Christmas miracle. You remembered your unfortunate situation for Christmas Eve; your parents having booked a cottage for themselves considering you’d be working that day, though gladly enough your boss decided it was the most wonderful time of the year, so why the fuck would he keep people hostage at work?

It landed you with quite literally nothing to do on the joyous day, and excitement began to fill your chest already about your answer, though you composed yourself to appear normal.

“No, actually. My parents are at a cottage together, so I was going to be home.”

Taehyung could’ve been on cloud nine right about now, thanking God or whatever supreme being for answering his prayers. You’d literally checked off his every requirement perfectly, and now all that was left was...

“Would you like come to Jimin’s party as my date? I know it’s only in 2 days and it’s really sudden, but I’m kinda stuck right now and I promised Jimin I would come after finding someone, he’ll probably kick my ass if I don’t-”

“I’d love to come.” You broke out into a grin at his adorable rambling, nearly giddy your assumption from before was exactly correct.

“Wait, seriously? You mean that?” Taehyung asked in wonderment.

“Why would I lie to you, Taehyung?” You chuckled at the endearing way his face was lighting up, trying to ensure he couldn’t see the stars in your eyes as you looked at him.

“Oh my God, you actually just.. saved my life.” Taehyung reveled, expression of utter gratitude.

“Don’t mention it. It’s all I can do after making you sit through 10 minutes of me berating you for liking fruit on pizza. It’s still weird, by the way.”

“Hey, don’t make me take your drink and ask you to jump for it.” Taehyung chastised, biting back a smile at the fact that you two still bickered like old times.

“Fair point, so in two days, huh?”

“Mhm. Can I get your number, actually? I’ll send you the details tonight.” Taehyung began digging for his phone in his pocket.

“Oh, yeah of course.” You agreed as you went for yours. You both huddled a little closer to exchange the digits, trading phones and adding your names into each other’s contacts. It dawned a slight fuzzy feeling in your chest, getting a whiff of Taehyung’s masculine cologne and realizing in this proximity, just how incredibly ravishing Taehyung had in fact grown up, how much larger and broader he was in comparison to you.

That he was a man now, not the quirky little dork you once knew, and that thought alone caused something to momentarily alight inside you.

He was a man now.

“Remember when we only had iPods and had to talk through our land lines?” Taehyung took a trip down memory lane and grounded you back to Earth, returning your phone to you.

“Ah yes, when technology was just expanding and us 90′s kids were always caught in the weird middle.” You reminisced as he chuckled, recalling the older days.

You were just finishing typing in your name for your contact, nearly clicking save until you decided to add the little bow emoji next to your name, handing Taehyung’s phone back to him.

“A bow?” Taehyung inquired, finding it cute.

“I deserve it, I’m your little Christmas present under your tree, aren’t I?” You flashed him a cute flower pose with a kittenish grin, the barista calling out Taehyung’s order just after.

Taehyung could only smile widely, endeared you still had that same playful charm. “Yeah, you are.” He made for his drink and nabbed it, fixing his phone back into this pocket before addressing you. “I’ve gotta get going. I’ll see you in 2 days, okay? It was seriously great meeting you again. Y/N.”

“You too, I’ll see you then!” You chimed with a wave as Taehyung began stepping away, almost turning from him until he suddenly called out to you one last time, just about through the door.

“Thank you again, Y/N, I owe you, my Christmas present!” He shouted his last words through a stupid smile, you returning the same one as a welcome before Taehyung exited the shop.

And you couldn’t stop yourself from breaking out into the goofiest grin then, cheeks hotter than you remembered. You were glad Taehyung was still the same charismatic, easily lovable person from high school, the same charm and adorable impishness about him.

Only now, he was all grown up and matured, no longer the slightly awkward, though heartfelt kid who liked stealing your history notes. And you became a little afraid feeling the same flutter in your heart from 6 years ago, curious if it was just a momentary lapse upon seeing him again, or signaling the ignition of an old flame it took you years to forget.

Taehyung : remember to bring your competitive side today ;)

You : omg, what did jimin plan?

Taehyung : you’ll have to wait and see

Taehyung : jimin’s a creative one, remember?

You : how could i forget? i’m never forgiving him for making me spend 3 hours writing calligraphy for that anthro project 😭

Taehyung : man, the guys are gonna love seeing you again

Taehyung : be there in 5!

You : gotchu!

You hated that you smiled so stupidly at your screen, never having forgotten the fluttery feeling Taehyung always managed to manifest in your stomach.

You clicked your phone screen off and checked over your outfit for the umpteenth time, wanting to look good not only for Taehyung (though that was the primary reason) but also for the rest of the crew. It’d seriously been too long since you last saw each other, having always been up to dumb shenanigans in high school though sadly parting ways after graduation.

It was only inevitable with everyone’s future plans being so dissimilar, you having gone down the road of law and miraculously scoring a scholarship to a prestigious university a few towns over, spelling your departure from your beloved childhood city and therefore, goodbye to everyone you knew.

You were glad the boys managed to remain so closely-knitted despite their different paths; Taehyung having clearly acquired a job at a museum considering his love for art. Last time you remembered, Jimin was an aspiring dancer, Hoseok was a natural at hospitality, Seokjin always rambled on about acting, Jungkook was gifted with a camera, Namjoon adored books and Yoongi wouldn’t trade music for the world.

It was bittersweet recalling such memories, having to leave behind everything you knew to pursue your own dream. Bitter, though sweet knowing you had larger than life opportunities awaiting you. It was precisely what landed you your current job, working comfortably at a high-status law firm albeit stealing very much of your time.

It was perfect, nonetheless, since the main office was located back home and you had just been transferred 3 months ago, finding your way back 6 years later. You didn’t know if the boys were still in town, had no real clue where their lives went with only stray social media posts indicating they were still alive and healthy.

So running into Taehyung all of a sudden? It made you more than glad, remembering not only your fun times together as a group, but your comfortable friendship with him, and the undeniable feelings you’d developed overtime.

Suffice to say, you both were quirky yet cute, and you made perfect sense. Not only did it land you two a supportive relationship full of laughs and teasing, but also numerous instances where someone’s actions or behaviour became suggestive, questioned the borders of actual friendship between you though nobody willing to take the leap, and it left all your friends inquiring exactly when you two would start dating.

Though that was the sad part, you never did. And the reason why? You have no real clue. It simply never dawned on you to express your feelings towards Taehyung in fear of him not feeling the same, thinking your crush was just a phase and you’d eventually view him as a friend again, a process of denial you repeated for the 4 grueling years of high school.

Though the second you realized you’d have to say goodbye so soon, with the possibility you’d never see him again, you realized Taehyung was the one boy you truly loved, and sometimes questioned if you still did.

It hurt to have to hug him one last time before you disconnected, remembering the way you cried having to part from everyone, and Taehyung held you against him until your eyes dried, waving an innocent goodbye before you rounded the corner of your street and disappeared forever.

To this day you haven’t got a clue if Taehyung ever felt the same, always chalking up his little lingering touches, hugs and double entendres to his naturally flirtatious and outgoing nature. It hindered your ability to say anything, thinking over the years maybe your non-confessional departure was an enormous mistake.

So when you heard the doorbell of your apartment ring, in the five minutes Taehyung promised, your heart couldn't help but leap at the thought you’d see him again, meet all your old friends and spend an entire festive, fun-filled night with them.

You made for the door without a second thought and pulled it ajar, meeting Taehyung’s somehow more stunning self all ready to go. He’d decided today to dress with a tan plaid coat, black turtle neck poking out from underneath paired with black slacks to match; and you realized Taehyung definitely invented the all-black look.

Sources? You.

You almost gawked, his hair set to reveal some forehead though curl just before his eyebrows, and it was evilly handsome. He was evilly handsome.

You remembered he was standing right in front of you, thinking a good moment has passed since you uttered anything, a warm smile as you addressed him. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He greeted back, scanning over you, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered for a second on your legs. You’d gone for your same gray coat, though surprisingly with an all black outfit underneath as well, cute wrap around dress with a v line dipping just generously enough, all paired with pantyhose.

Who cares about a little cold when you want to look cute anyway, right?

“We’re matching, it’s cute.” He complimented, his smile just a little impish as it met your chest momentarily though flashed back up to you.

“I guess you’re cute too.” You shrugged, nearly hiding your face under his scrutiny.

“We should get going, m’lady. Jimin’ll chew my head off if I’m late too.” Taehyung feigned a sophisticated tone, turning aside and holding out his arm for you to loop like a gentleman.

You chuckled just a little and clutched your side bag, hooking onto his arm as you switched the lights of your apartment off and shut the door behind you.

“Now would the kind sir tell me what we’re doing today?” You inquired as Taehyung began walking you down the hallway, peering at his God-like side profile. “You’ve been so mysterious about it.”

Taehyung clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Now what’s the point of a surprise if I tell you?”

“But why is it a surprise? Don’t tell me it’s something ridiculous like rock climbing.” You playfully scolded, trying to keep up with his long strides as he led you towards the elevator.

“Maybe it’s just to see the way your face will light up when you find out.” Taehyung suggested with narrowed eyes as he looked down at you, you staring back at him in scrutiny until you both snickered.

And as you entered the elevator arm in arm with him, maybe you felt that same skip of your heartbeat from years ago.

“Holy shit, Y/N Y/L/N? Is that you?” Jimin’s face was utterly surprised, his warm, puppy eyes you remember too well wide as he held the door open.

“Of course it is, Park Jimin!” You cheered as you held your arms out for a hug, his gentle arm wrapping around your torso as he beamed.

“The guys are not gonna believe this, I gotta tell em’. Come in, come in!” Jimin ushered you and Taehyung inside, redirecting his attention to the beautiful, open space condo he called his humble abode. “Guys! Come to the front, look who’s here!”

You and Taehyung were propping your boots off when people eventually came piling into the front foyer and responding to Jimin absentmindedly. All were similarly unsuspecting their eyes widened when landing on you, sounding the next slew of hilarious commentary you’d missed too damn much.

“No way, is that Y/N?”

“Holy fuck, Y/N?”

“Y/N, we thought you left town, when did you come back?”

“Taehyung, how the hell did you find her?”

“Even better, how the fuck did he get her to come as his date?” It was Jungkook who made the quip that elicited everyone’s snickering, yourself simply overwhelmed by the amount of memories that came back just by the sound of their quite manlier now, though familiar voices.

They all still had the same charming features, each of them reminiscent of their teenaged selves, but the difference? Now they were polished into captivatingly good-looking men you were baffled to even know at this point.

“Oh my God, it’s been 6 years, just let me hug you guys!” You excitedly gestured for them to come to you, friendly smiles all around as you embraced and reunited.

“Jungkook, why wouldn’t she agree? You trying to say something?” Taehyung didn’t let the earlier insult go, eyebrows quirked as he retorted.

“Dude, Y/N has always been out of your league.” Yoongi added.

“And honestly, now she’s even more out of your league.” Seokjin joined the teasing and it erupted another bout of cackling from the group, you only left to shyly scrunch your nose and giggle.

“Okay, okay, let’s move from standing here, yeah? There’s a party and 6 years worth of catching up to do!” Jimin chimed, chastising everyone huddled by the corridor and allowing you and Taehyung to settle into the home.

Jimin was still the meticulous perfectionist you knew back then, his home adorably charmed with Christmas decorations that made his place feel incredibly warm. His pretty Christmas tree in the corner with some gifts wrapped underneath, his fireplace adorned with pretty stockings, even the small trinkets scattered around were reminding your sadly adult-self that it was indeed Christmas, and it’s meant to be jolly.

It automatically created an atmosphere of festivity, and catching sight of the dates each friend brought moving about, it only felt more like the holidays with 14 people occupying the home.

You were marveling with a wide smile at the scene before you, everyone moving back into the house to resume what they were previously doing until you suddenly felt someone’s hands hook onto the neck collar of your jacket from behind. You whirled around in an instant with seeking eyes, viewing the culprit was none other than the only owner of the largest, most slender hands you still found incredibly attractive.

Goddamn you.

“Sorry, I’ll just take your jacket for you.” Taehyung realized he may have startled you.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, hurriedly shredding off the layer not having noticed you were still wearing it. “I could put it away myself though, give me yours.”

You reached for Taehyung’s jacket in his hands, though he immediately jut the jacket further away from you in protest. “No, no. You’re my date, I’m taking it.”

“But Tae-”

“Hey, you’re my present, remember? You deserve it.” Taehyung mimicked you from your exchange at the coffee shop, you ultimately acquiescing as a result.

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes playfully, though a laugh was pulling at you all the same. “What would you be, though?” You asked out of curiosity. “If I’m the present, what are you?”

Taehyung toyed with your question in his thoughts until he chose the perfect answer, lips growing into a smirk as he drew closer to your face a little. “The one who gets to open it up.”

Something shot through you that was alarming, his cocked eyebrow indicative he was being suggestive, and you played it off with a scoff. “It’s not even Christmas morning yet, and I know you’re just the goodest little boy on Earth who’d wait until he can open his presents.” You clasped your hands together, condescendingly feigning innocence.

“Or maybe you just never got to know, Y/N.” Taehyung then suddenly leaned down much closer to your face, inches from you as he looked into your eyes. “I haven’t always been a good boy.”

Taehyung was boring something undistinguishable into you, though the double meaning of his words left apparent heat in the air between you.

And here it fucking was again, those same double entendres Taehyung had always shot your way though you always took it as him simply fooling around, so you always joined in with your own jokes, assuming the same approach now.

“Hmm, we’ll see about that, Good boy. Santa’s watching.” You countered as you patted his chest sarcastically, causing Taehyung to stand to his full height biting his lip.

He stared at you for a moment before walking away, noticing how long his legs were and the unfair curve of his ass, and you suddenly gained a new feature of his to ogle at. He eventually disappeared and you breathed, temporarily forgetting you had a dumb habit of holding your breath whenever he was so close; his piney with a hint of ocean breeze cologne having been left behind, and hitting you like a truck just as much as his all black outfit did.

God fucking dammit.

You decided to ignore your intrusive thoughts and waltz into the party instead, grabbing yourself a drink and eventually making your way towards some of the boys’ pretty dates. It was refreshing to feel the presence of women, thanking the Heavens they were all relatively sweet and amicable.

Conversation always came easy to you, what with being a lawyer who has to be a master with words anyway, so it wasn’t difficult to not only befriend some of the girls, but also reconnect with the boys merrily, Taehyung by your side.

“Y/N, how dare you not contact any of us about coming back?” Hoseok asked, a little upset timbre in his tone.

“Yeah, I’m actually a little hurt you ended up coming with Tae of all people. After all the books I shared with you?” Namjoon feigned disappointment, a hand to his heart in near heartbreak.

“Dude, what’s wrong with her coming with me? Not my fault you gave her boring ass books.” Taehyung defended.

“Tae, you’d steal her history notes for fuck’s sake.” Namjoon countered with narrowed eyes.

“Guys, it’s been years. I just thought it’d been too long, so I didn’t say anything.” You stopped them, sadly remembering the way communication dwindled out the more you all progressed in your life.

“Look, you’re always welcomed, Y/N. You think I’d forget the girl who pulled an all-nighter just to edit my shitty final essay for English? I told you I’d write your name on my damn tombstone when I got an 80.” Seokjin laughed with a glass of eggnog, though supportive in his remark and it made you reminisce.

“I have no clue to this day how you passed English on just Sparknotes. Jungkook hated English more than you and he still managed to actually read 1984.” You chastised him like old times, though now it was a memory that brought a smile to your face.

“Look, I wasn’t interested in knowing the asshole motives of Big Brother and the 3-minute hate speech.” Seokjin defended himself.

“2-minute, and it was still a good book.”

“You’re telling me 60 pages of that dumb manifesto Winston found was good?” Taehyung perked up with crossed arms, quirking his eyebrows at you in incredulousness.

“Oh c’mon, you learn the entire history of the Party and all their bullshit.”

“And you’re still a nerd, I see.” Taehyung ticked his head to the side with his snarky remark.

“Oh shut up, I got a better mark than you on the final essay anyway.” You rolled your eyes.

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re a nerd.” Taehyung countered.

You gave a disapproving, scrutinizing look as you marched your way over to Jimin’s Christmas tree, comically gesturing to the Balsam Fir beside you. “I’m literally your Christmas present under the tree, Taehyung, you have to be nice to me.” You chastised him though it only made the boys looking on crack up.

“Y/N, you’re still hilarious as fuck.” Hoseok was lighting up with laughter, his pretty giggles sounding in a way that honestly made you giggle in the end too, Taehyung only letting up because you were just so you, and it tugged at his heart strings.

“Speaking of Jungkook from earlier, where is he? I just remembered the math notes he owes me his life for.” You perked up, gauging his presence around in the condo.

“He’s over there eating the chocolate chips, yah, Jungkook! Stop it!” Seokjin scolded from across the room where Jimin and Yoongi were bustling about in the kitchen, and you became confused hearing the mention of chocolate chips.

“Chocolate chips? I mean, I’m not complaining, but that’s quite the eccentric choice for party food.” You held up your hands in mock surrender.

“Oh, Taehyung didn’t tell you? It’s for the competition later.” Namjoon informed, though you only furrowed your eyebrows.

“Competition?”

“Yeah, baking competition. Jimin planned a couple’s one for his mistletoe theme. I’m beating all your asses, by the way. I’m a genius at decorating.” Hoseok folded his arms with a self-satisfied expression.

“Please, my girlfriend and I hold weekly bake-offs, watch yourselves, losers.” Seokjin calmed everyone down with his own greatness, you simply becoming beyond excited.

You turned to Taehyung in an instant, expression completely telling of wonder as you inquired with a high-pitched tone. “Tae, you didn’t tell me we were having a baking competition, that’s so cool!” You beamed, elatedly looking towards Jimin and Yoongi preparing ingredients.

“Taehyung’s a cryptic one, remember?” Namjoon joked, trying to stifle a laugh with a hand over his mouth, and Taehyung immediately defended himself.

“Shut up, hyung.” He sounded offended, though the smile tugging at his lips indicated after years of friendship, he’d never actually grow vexed at his admirable friend.

Taehyung then met your eyes, smile growing more apparent, warmer. “I told you it was to see the way your face would light up, didn’t I?” He tilted his head to the side then, eyes playfully studying you as he confirmed his observation. “Yup, your eyes totally still sparkle the same.”

You couldn’t help but fill with another wave of fuzziness, feeling as though Taehyung always knew how to make your insides all giddy, and maybe even thinking what’s so wrong if your feelings really were coming back?

You could only smile sheepishly at him, the rest of the boys knowingly watching the two of you like they have for years, everyone only falling out of the trance of the moment when Jimin’s voice called out from the kitchen.

“Alright Martha Stewarts, who’s starting the ass-kicking?”

“Hyung! That’s not fair, you can’t steal from us!” Jungkook scolded him as you watched the mania in front of you, Seokjin and his girlfriend Sa-Ha vs. Jungkook and his date Mira. It was becoming devastatingly hilarious, both teams only having 1 minute left until their cookies had to be plated in tip-top shape, all scrambling to create the best-looking ones.

“I can and I will, you stole from us first!” Seokjin rebutted him, Jimin raising his voice to signal how much left time was.

“30 seconds you guys, make it count!” And it was another catastrophic seconds until the timer went off, both teams exhausted and complaining all the same about their hard time fueled by Jin and Jungkook’s endless bickering.

It was laughs for the few of you looking on, waiting your turns until Jimin’s date Song-i chose from the hat of pairings, your eyes going wide once she called out your name with Taehyung’s against Hoseok and his date.

“Oh my God, Tae, that’s us!” You grabbed his arm alarmed, seeming nervous and it caused him to look at you.

“Why are you so nervous? We’ll do great.”

You scoffed at him in protest. “Taehyung, you did horrible in home ec, we’re gonna lose!”

“Hey, I’ll make you jump for the ingredients, have some faith, will you?” Taehyung retorted, grabbing you by your hand and dragging you over to one of the two counters Jimin’s grand condo had to offer.

“We’re taking you guys down on decorations, I’m a genius.” Hoseok gloated from his counter, tying his apron as he eyed you.

“I have a curator on my team, Hobi, we’re beating you.” You scrutinized him with an angry pout as he stuck his tongue out, you whirling back around to adjust your apron.

“Okay everyone, aprons on?” Jimin inquired, you having put on yours though watching Taehyung struggle with figuring out the apparently rocket-science contraption.

You sighed with a laugh until you grabbed it from his hands, helping him out. “It’s like this, Tae.” You got on your tippy-toes to situate the apron around his neck as he bent down for you, the contrast of your heights always having made Taehyung a little weak.

He was only left to watch you as you fixed the apron onto him, finding himself not even watching anymore, but straight up gazing, admiring.

Admiring the way your eyes were always in a state of perpetual sparkle, your small lips he never forgot the amount of times he contemplated kissing, your dress revealing your collarbones and chest that beckoned for him to just tear it off, all weakening him even more so.

What made him even weaker, however, was noting the way you’ve matured into a woman after 6 years.

A very beautiful, attractive woman.

Your body had always been art to him, but now you were polished into a masterpiece he desired to adore, run his hands all over. Your face structure was more evened out, hair set to fall elegantly upon your shoulders and neck so utterly inviting it all added a sense of sexy maturity to you.

It was distracting, Taehyung venturing off on the thought you were a woman now, not the innocent, sweet nerd he once knew, and it constantly began to rack his brain when he felt something course through his veins about it.

Because you used to be so painfully innocent, so naturally a girl next door he couldn’t help but want to taint sometimes, to ruin and unravel for his own. He could even feel it with every time your smaller hands touched his body as you worked the apron guilelessly, wanting to snatch up your wrists instead and do unspeakable things, especially with that fucking dress on his mind.

What made it all worse is that Taehyung could tell you only acted guileless, and never actually were. You also made your own suggestive comments, always caught his drift and he could tell you weren’t the innocent little thing you appeared to be.

Taehyung was so completely lost he heard you suddenly calling his name.

“Taehyung, are you listening?”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“You have to listen to what I say, okay? Just follow my instructions and we’ll win against them.” You made little fists in the air to encourage him, Taehyung mimicking the action.

“Y-yeah. I will, let’s do this.” You turned around after smiling sweetly, fixing some of the utensils on the counter and completely unsuspecting of Taehyung’s thoughts.

That even after 6 years apart, after thinking he’d successfully forgotten about you, there was still something that pulled at his heart every time he saw you smile, every time you were ever near him.

And he came to the conclusion maybe his feelings really haven’t changed from 6 years ago.

“Taehyung, can you pass me the butter, please?” You asked urgently, whisking away at your bowl of almost-there cookie dough with Taehyung hovering around you as he watched.

“Got it.” He returned with some of the butter, you struggling to scoop some of it until Taehyung reached out for the block. “Here, let me do it and you whisk.”

“No, you’ll end up putting in too much. Let me do it.” You nudged him with your elbow, picking at the butter.

“But you’re already whisking, just let me take it out.” Taehyung protested as he reached, though you blocked him right away.

“No, Tae, remember we decided I’m on baking and you’re on decorating?”

“Your job is way harder than mine and I’m useless right now, let me at least whisk.” Taehyung grabbed for the bowl until you snatched it away from him, already done with scooping the butter when the action caused some of the flour to fly up on your dress, gasping scandalously.

“Taehyung!” You whined, Taehyung scrambling for a quick apology.

“Oh fuck, Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” Taehyung almost completed until a splash of flour went hurtling onto his shirt, causing him to look down with his mouth agape. “You did not just throw flour on my black turtleneck.”

“You got flour on my black dress first, you tree.” Your eyebrows were set hard as you scolded him, still loosely whisking away at the cookie dough.

“It was by accident, you half-pint.” Taehyung rebutted, trying to bat the flour off himself.

“Then mine was an accident too.” You mocked him, unsuspectingly whisking again when flour suddenly hit your chest, offended to find Taehyung snickering with it all over his hand.

“That was an accident, too.”

“You’re so...” You huffed out as you placed the bowl down and grabbed your own handful of flour, just about to throw it on Taehyung when is large palms came up to snatch your wrists, forcing your arms back as he snickered.

“Taehyung, this is unfair!” You complained, struggling against his hold.

“It’s an accident.” Taehyung mimicked with a genuine laugh watching you scramble in his hold, until the smile wiped off his face shortly after when you simply released the flour from your palm and it spilled all over his turtleneck.

Your cheeks puffed up trying to contain your laughter, Jimin’s own giggling fit sounding and you remembered he was monitoring the competition. “Taehyung, you dumbass, you had that shit coming.” He held his stomach, entire body laughing at his best friend.

You were giggling along with Jimin until Taehyung had had enough, licking his lips with mischief.

“That’s it, come here.” He then spun you around and engulfed you with his arms from behind, holding you snug to his chest as you tried to escape him alarmingly, knowing what Taehyung was going to do next.

“Taehyung please, wait, I beg of you, don’t!” And it was already too late when you felt his long fingers begin to tickle at your sides, your incessant protests melding with giggles along with his beautiful laughter filling the kitchen.

You continued to fight against his hold, the constant feather-like touches making you reel and breath leave your lungs. “Taehyung, stop! Oh my God,” you struggled through a laugh while he nuzzled his face into your hair. “I’ll die, Taehyung, please!”

“Nope, this is what you get.” Taehyung continued his onslaught as he held you tighter, you beginning to acquiesce in order to reason with him.

“Okay, okay, look. We’re running out of time!” You tried controlling your laughter, tears pricking at your eyes as you tried to calm down. “We have to beat Hobi and Ah-yeong or else we’ll lose!”

His amused voice sounded near your ear, still reprimanding you. “I’ll only stop if you say sorry.”

“Alright, I’m sorry!” You were grabbing at his wrists for release. “I didn’t mean it, just stop tickling me!” You protested with a giggle until you felt his fingers rest, rather exchanging it for simply encasing you.

“Good girl, you’re getting on Santa’s nice list.” Taehyung joked.

You could only sigh as you resupplied oxygen to your lungs, moving towards the bowl. “Okay, let’s get back to work before we lose.” You puffed out air, breaths levelling as you returned to the counter and grabbed the whisk and bowl, only to find Taehyung hadn’t retracted his arms yet.

He instead remained behind you, reaching for the utensils in your hands, his large ones grasping them along with you and the contrast of his broad body enclosing your smaller one made you feel something in your core.

Your eyes widened in surprised when his head unexpectedly found your shoulder, resting his chin there as he peered down at the bowl before you, you sputtering. “Taehyung, w-what are you doing?”

“Helping you, is there a problem?” The deep cadence of his voice was just by your ear, dangerous for your health.

“N-no. But it’s okay, I’m fine on my own-”

“Nope, this is the least I can do for you..” Taehyung’s tone seemed to trail off suddenly, having calmed down from his laughter and you found him speaking in earnest. “You’re my Christmas present I dragged all the way here with me, remember?”

You could only smile sympathetically as you looked to your side, eyes welcomed by his gorgeous side profile on full display just centimeters from you. It made you realize just how close he was, his warmth engulfing you and it caused little sparks to fly inside your chest.

“It’s not so bad, Taehyung. You’re just a good boy who needed his little Christmas present.” You teased light-heartedly, proud of your remark until Taehyung suddenly turned towards your ear, ghosting the shell of it with an unexpectedly darker tone, low and down right gruff.

“I’m not always a good boy.” He stated it simply, though the hot baritone in his words oddly left your spine cold, freezing over even more when Taehyung then wrapped his arms entirely around your torso, pulling your back to his chest. He did it so tightly you could suddenly feel your ass pressed to his covered length, oddly contradicting how couple-like you two probably appeared and it was goddamn intoxicating.

You panicked at first but eventually basked in his hold, mustering the courage to speak with a suggestive tone. “I’m not always a good girl, either.”

You threw it out there, cheeks slightly heating adding your own double entendre, though the way Taehyung suddenly tensed for a second had you feeling more confident, the puff of air he sucked in apparent.

The conversation only ended with a satisfied hum from Taehyung as he watched you bake, a nice rumble that reverberated from his chest and into your back, feeling an odd arousal spike all the way down to your toes.

It was already lethal with his pretty hands holding around your waist, the closeness an added thrill. It made your chest fill with something riveting, almost anticipatory of what all of this meant between you two, excited for wherever this night would truly go.

It wasn’t long before it came time for Taehyung to plate and decorate the cookies, carefully placing his little embellishments he swore were the cream of the crop as you bickered with him, your incessant teasing resulting in you hugging him from behind while he worked.

And Taehyung knew he was doomed the second he felt your very obvious chest press into his back, his nerves pumping carnally as he then felt a side of him he’s always hid from you escape its reigns.

It was damn transparent Seokjin and his girlfriend would win, their exquisite baking and cooking skills having created masterpieces everyone dug into happily. It’d won them the choice of what movie everyone would watch tonight along with a dinner that the losers, surprisingly not you and Taehyung, but Namjoon and his date would have to pay for.

Everyone was now seeking comfortable positions for the movie around the TV while you were last minute cleaning with Jimin in the kitchen, offering your help after the mess you and Taehyung made with your little flour mishap.

Taehyung had properly gotten rid of the flour on his sweater, now lounging on an armchair in the living room with his phone in hand. You felt yourself glancing towards him more than you should’ve, reprimanding yourself each time though found yourself doing it nonetheless.

It was just hard to keep your eyes off him when Taehyung was the epitome of a Greek God, questioning how such a being is allowed to walk among us commoners. His chiseled jawline was far too handsome for his own good, his neck sculpted so perfectly it left you you wondering what it would feel like to mark him up all over, and the way his long legs were manspreading before him was so inviting the sight alone made you figuratively drool.

And fall even harder.

You didn’t realize you were ogling until Jimin’s hushed voice pulled you out of your reverie. “You’re staring.”

You blinked. “What?”

Jimin chuckled as he continued to wipe the counter one last time. “It’s been 6 years, why don’t you just say something?”

“There’s nothing to say, Jimin.” You tried brushing him off, though Jimin didn’t buy it.

“My ass, Y/N. You really think after what happened in the kitchen there’s nothing between you two?”

“I don’t know, it’s just how Taehyung is.” You concocted an excuse, deflating as you did so.

Jimin shook his head in disapproval. “It’s been like this since high school, Y/N, why didn’t you just tell Taehyung how you felt?”

You looked at him in earnestly before softening into a sigh, knowing Jimin was really the only person you ever spilled your feelings for his best friend to.

“Because I was scared, Jimin. You know how hard it was for me to even admit it to you.” You answered with a quiet voice, scrapping the flour you threw at Taehyung into the garbage.

“But Y/N, you two... the way you are. What were you so afraid of?” Jimin’s sweet, pacifying voice asked, clearly having been rooting for you both ever since you fessed up.

“Rejection, Mimi. Even if we’re like that...” You trailed, thinking over your relationship with Taehyung. “What if it’s all only a joke on his end? Taehyung has always been naturally flirty.. and we’re friends. I don’t think I’m any different than a conquest.”

Jimin understood your point, though made it his own to advise you otherwise, washing out the cloth in the sink. “Y/N, that’s only what you believe.” His eyes told you of genuine support, offering like the comfort fairy he’s always been. “Just because you believe something, doesn’t make it true.”

And that damn well hit home for you, realizing that maybe you’ve really been in your head too much about this, overthinking by creating doubts and excuses in your head to subdue your fear of confessing to Taehyung, to avoid the hurt of rejection but possibly missing an entire opportunity.

“You should tell him, Y/N. It’s been long enough, you’ll never know how he feels if you don’t try.”

You became apprehensive. “But how do you know if he’ll feel the same way?” Jimin could only chuckle to himself, his smile radiant as he found you the most innocent, yet funnily oblivious thing on Earth.

“Look at the way he acts around you, Y/N.” Jimin advised. “He’s my best friend, and I’ve never seen him like that with anyone except you. Conquests are conquests, but you’re you, and that’s different to him.”

Your mind instantly went into a frenzy, thinking well fuck, Jimin is Taehyung’s best friend, and he’s telling you that all this time Taehyung has never really enacted the same behaviour and energy with anyone expect you? This whole time? What does he mean you’re different? You’re.. different to him? Aren’t you just his female friend he’s known since ninth grade, and so surely there’s nothing but the added value of history there, right?

Right?

You were only left to digest Jimin’s words as you placed the dustpan back to its original spot, Jimin finishing up with the sink. The conversation ended there, Jimin guiding you back to the living room and nestling himself next to his date. You were distracted with Jimin’s suggestions until you walked into the space and realized there was nowhere for you to sit, the couples perfectly paired up and occupying all the available space.

Your entrance is what made Taehyung snap his vision to you from his phone, watching your confused face contemplating where to sit until he whispered to you, motioning towards himself on the armchair furthest from the screen and tucked behind the other couches. “Y/N, come here.”

You studied his placement, on a singular armchair with his lap very much open. You shivered at the sight, though protested in a hushed tone realizing the chair could really only fit him. “There’s nowhere for me to sit.”

Taehyung then spread his legs a little further apart and tapped his thigh, revealing some space for you to sit.. on him. “You can sit here.”

You were glad the lights were turned off, just so Taehyung didn’t have to see the blush that rose to your cheeks when you answered. “Um, o-okay.”

You then ambled over to him in front of the rather comfy looking armchair, thanking God everyone was too distracted bickering over Seokjin’s movie choice to pay attention to you both.

“Are you.. sure about this?” You managed to get out, mind going feral over the fact that one of your previous thoughts was actually manifesting itself, nearly chickening out.

“Mhm, just sit on me.” Taehyung offered casually, his expression unreadable and ultimately making you doubt Jimin’s advice from before, realizing that Taehyung has always been a hard person to read, which is why you could never tell how he felt about you, shutting your trap about damn love confessions.

You didn’t respond and rather tentatively made it to the take your seat, the seat that was Taehyung’s fucking lap. You placed your ass on his thigh with your legs thrown over him, angling yourself so that the temple of your head rested against his shoulder.

Though it proved to be lethal in seconds, his cologne now completely flooding your nostrils and the thin skirt of your dress leaving much of your clothed core feeling the muscle of his thigh.

You felt Taehyung tense underneath for a second as you adjusted the skirt of your dress over your own thighs, smoothing it over properly as your hands then clasped in your own lap.

Taehyung was glad you didn’t have the ability to read his mind, because the second he realized everyone was naturally pairing up to cuddle with their dates, it would only mean you two would have to do the same. So when you paddled over, standing before him in that cute dress he’s been wanting to tear off you this entire party, he was more than thrilled to offer his lap as your seat.

But when you actually sat on him, your ass and hints of your core against his thigh with your tempting legs draped over him, he was continuously beginning to think dangerously, salaciously.

He tried to keep his breathing leveled, though the second he felt you adjust against him and your covered center press onto him, he knew he would never survive whatever fucking movie everyone eventually settled on.

When it finally began to play, Taehyung snaked his arms around your waist and held you to him, feeling your breath hitch for the tiniest second before you relaxed.

And it damn well thrilled him.

The movie was beginning to progress now, Taehyung and yourself in the same comfortable position until you yawned and snuggled more into him, a hand coming up to drape across his chest and head finding shelter closer into his neck.

Taehyung tensed again, feeling every breath you took with the weight of your smaller body on top of him, mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

And especially when you shifted your ass a little against his leg, he twitched with something so much more carnal, blood pumping somewhere it shouldn’t and this time, Taehyung didn’t really feel like holding back anymore.

His hands suddenly faltered, his palms coming to singularly rest against one of your thighs, clasping it slightly. He knew there was nothing but your leg with only pantyhose as a barrier for your skin, sending currents through his veins thinking you could definitely feel his every touch.

You nearly jolted when Taehyung’s hands met the meat of your thigh, the placement shooting more arousal through you than it should’ve.

You were calm until Taehyung suddenly inched his hand towards the inner part of your thigh, making your core clench and hand clutch his sweater to contain the electricity it sent.

You’ve always had such dirty thoughts about what Taehyung’s hands could do, the slenderness and length of his fingers always revving your imagination. So to have his fingers just on the inside of your thigh, sitting in his lap as he seemed to be teasing, was enough to send your brain spiraling.

Your scandalous thoughts made you shift against him to experimentally feel the friction, your core grinding against his thigh for a moment and Taehyung’s breath immediately hitched. His grip on you tightened and his hold tensed, had you suppressing the feeling of making a sound.

He slid more inward, closer to the prize he was seeking and you could only hide your face into the junction of his neck at the way your pussy felt butterflies. It made you squish your thighs together to feel something, and God fuck, was the tension between you two so searing you could feel it radiating off Taehyung’s body.

It’s what made whispering slowly against him flow easily, quiet so as not to alarm anyone in the living room.

“I thought you were a good boy, Tae. What are you doing?” Your voice was sultrier than you planned, and it wasn’t chastising him at all, rather teasing for something more.

You could only feel the rise and fall of Taehyung’s chest underneath you as he contained himself, the cuddling leaving you to feel his every micro-movement when he responded.

“I thought you were a good girl, what are you doing?” Taehyung’s voice was low and deep, the vibration coursing through your body and it only invited you to become hornier.

“Guess I’m not a good girl after all.”

Taehyung made a sound as though scoffing, dangerous in its tone.

“Guess I’m not a good boy, either.” And just after, Taehyung inched his fingers even closer to your clothed core, making the slightest of contact on your slit through the material of your dress and you practically twitched in his hold, sucking in a breath as you clasped onto the fabric of his shirt.

“You have no idea..” Taehyung suddenly spoke up, voice laden with something hungry, hot. “what I’ve always thought about doing to you.”

You could only jolt in his lap, more of his cologne meeting your nose and it caused you to suppress a sound by stuffing your face into his neck. “What.. have you thought about?”

Taehyung then suddenly cupped your sex over your clothes, making you grapple onto his neck and bite back a moan so hard you had to breathe through your nose.

“How I want to ruin you.” Taehyung’s low baritone and rough palm rubbing teasingly against your now aching pussy left you gushing, arousal racking the bottom of your stomach you were almost afraid of how easy it was for him.

Your breath was shallower now, trying to compose yourself by egging him on. “You’d want to ruin an innocent girl like me?”

“I know you’re not innocent, princess.” Taehyung asserted with the slightest growl to his tone, thankful your seat was positioned behind the rest of the others so nobody could see what was going on.

“Only when it comes to you.” Your seductive voice beckoned lust to course through Taehyung, breathing out hot air. “What else?” You suddenly croaked out.

Taehyung hummed lowly into your ear, his palm smoothing over your cunt in ways that had you screwing your eyes shut. “How I want to make you beg.” He purposefully pressed harder against your clit, had you scratching into the column of his throat. “Make you scream my name.”

You gushed your arousal even more, breathless with your words. “I bet you say that to everyone.”

Taehyung chuckled dismissively, dipping his head lower to whisper darkly into your ear.

“I only say that to pretty little things I want to ruin, and you’re the prettiest little thing I know.”

Your breath came out in a weighty puff, sighing satisfyingly against him as you snaked your hand from his neck down to the hardening length in his pants. You grazed your palm over his clothes and he twitched almost violently, biting back his hiss with a strong grip against your thigh with his free hand. You grew proud, speaking up when it boosted your ego.

“I’d love to see you try.”

And that was when the pads of Taehyung’s fingers pressed into your clothed cunt so euphorically you were seconds from letting out a moan, Taehyung cupping his palm over your mouth to silence you.

“Shh.” Taehyung sounded by your ear. “Can’t let everyone hear my girl, now can I?” He hushed you huskily, leaving you to sigh your arousal into his large palm and eternally grateful the movie’s volume was loud enough to mask your talking.

Taehyung then began the slowest circular ministrations on your clit, shooting continuous pleasure through your body as you clutched your hand onto his wrist holding your mouth, urgently trying to suppress moans he was easily milking out of you.

It felt like sparks, continuous sparks in your covered pussy as Taehyung rubbed against your folds, gliding down to your slit and teasing your throbbing hole.

The mere prospect of his fingers shoving inside you made you wet beyond comprehension, only digging little crescents into his forearm with muted moans. It was sickening how easily he had you turned on, how easily you were getting riled up by just his fingers, and so you mustered the strength to lightly stroke his cock over his pants as revenge.

Taehyung then put pressure against your clenching hole as punishment, shoving your face into his neck when he teased your entrance and squishing his hand between your thighs with his other urging them open.

“Look at you,” Taehyung growled. “all fucked out just by my fingers.” He whispered darkly into your ear, the vibration of his baritone voice once again sending you into overdrive. “They’re not even inside you yet.”

The ‘yet’ had you restless, body grinding against him and this time it was Taehyung trying suppress a satisfied groan.

“If my fingers have you like this, imagine my-”

“Oh c’mon! That’s not even realistic!” Seokjin suddenly shouted at the screen, startling you and Taehyung.

“Jin, calm down. It’s just a feel-good Christmas movie.” Yoongi cautioned him.

“How the fuck does the kid just free the burglar from the cop car? It’s damn common sense.” Seokjin complained about the scene from Christmas with the Kranks, having been unsatisfied with the movie since the beginning.

“Baby, why’d you choose this movie?” He whined to his girlfriend Sa-Ha, her feigning innocence as she defended herself.

“It’s almost over, Jinnie. Just sitand watch.”

And that’s when Taehyung ripped his hands off you, leaving you to breathe out ruggedly for a few seconds before your vision looked up at Taehyung’s, mutually shocked at what the fuck just happened.

You’ve never done something like that before, and as your scared sights looked back at each other, you could only think you were both under some sort of horney trance that swept you two into uncharted waters.

It made you divert your eyes from Taehyung immediately, your mind going blank.

Taehyung was left hard and extremely turned on, though began dissipating once he couldn’t fathom he went that far with you so quickly, his brain having been clouded by lust he should’ve kept in check.

And with the way you looked at him, panicked and snapping your vision away in an instant, he doesn’t know if he just made a grave mistake.

You both became shameful, swallowing dryly as your attentions fixated back onto the screen, thinking about what just transpired.

There was this incessant feeling in both your chests contemplating there was something more, clearly more between you two.

And it was downright fearful.

“Yah, why are you guys leaving so early? C’mon! There’s still half the eggnog left.” Seokjin pouted from across the room, sadly chugging his drink as the others hummed in agreeance.

“Yeah, c’mon guys. It’s the holidays, let’s all spend it together, sleep over for the fuck of it!” Hoseok chimed in what you could tell was an inebriated state, practically swaying as he talked and the lilt in his tone ever-so cheery.

“Um, excuse me? Sleep over? Nobody’s doing that.” Jimin shoot him down from where he stood near you and Taehyung, scolding his friends with crossed arms. “If they want to leave they’re allowed, we already made Y/N abandon her Christmas for us.”

“It’s alright, Jimin. I missed you guys too, I wanted to come.” You offered sentimentally, hand touching his elbow to let him up and he eased.

“Since you’re officially back in town, we’re never leaving you alone again, Y/N!” Namjoon called out from the living room, engrossed in whatever was playing on the TV.

“Yup, seriously not going to leave you alone.” Yoongi hummed with half-lidded eyes, near falling asleep on the couch.

“I still owe you for those math notes, expect me becoming your Genie for a day!” Jungkook called out from the kitchen, most likely munching on the treats everyone crafted during the competition earlier.

“Of course, I’ll see you guys! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” Everyone cheered, their dates similarly adding on.

You then brought your attention back to Jimin, seeing you and Taehyung out as the wonderful host of today’s party. “Thank you for the party, Jimin, it was amazing.”

“Yeah.” Taehyung perked up next to you, apologetic he was so negligent of the party in the first place. “It was seriously fun, Jimin, I’m sorry I acted like it wasn’t a big deal before.”

“Nah, don’t sweat it.” Jimin casually waved him off. “Dude, you could text me a Merry Christmas and I’d be alright, you know us.” Jimin smiled reassuringly, right on your toes when Taehyung and yourself stepped into his front foyer.

You were both fixing on your shoes just before Jimin’s door when he spoke up again. “It was great having you guys, and even better having you, Y/N, come here.” Jimin held out his arms for a warm hug, you returning it merrily. “You’re always welcomed here with us, visit anytime you want.”

“Thanks, Jimin, it really means a lot.” Your grateful eyes found his once you disconnected.

“We’ll get going now, thank you again, Jimin.” Taehyung for some odd reason placed an arm around your shoulder, pulling you two a little closer and you simply accepted the action, trying not to read into it.

“Of course.” Jimin replied. “Though one last thing, you remember the theme of this party, right?” Jimin asked you both, you and Taehyung similarly responded with knitted eyebrows.

“Yeah?”

“Well look up, lovebirds.” Jimin cocked his head upwards towards the ceiling, casually leaning against the corridor of his entrance when you and Taehyung glanced up, innocently viewing the little mistletoe dangling above your heads, eyes reflecting the realization of what Jimin was conveying.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Jimin added with a purposefully hushed, knowing tone. He was just about turning away until he called out in caution. “Oh, careful driving, by the way. I just heard the snow got bad.” And with that, Jimin left nothing but his sweet cologne in the air when he disappeared.

You and Taehyung shuffled about a little, not exactly daring to exchange gazes when the air became all stuffy.

You were both mutually pondering what the absolute hell to do in this moment. Do you kiss? Do you not kiss? Do you awkwardly try to address what happened earlier after silently agreeing with your dicey body language to never speak of it again? Or hell, do you damn well take Jimin’s advice and just flat out tell him you’ve always had feelings for him?

Wait.

Jimin’s advice.

It came back to you, thinking Jimin was actually extremely wise in what he said. You took to his words into consideration, studying some of the little things Taehyung did around you, from the things he uttered all the way down to the simple way he even looked at you, contemplating something, just something had to be there.

But then maybe, just maybe you could also chalk it up to his naturally flirtatious behaviour you’ve always observed, always habitually affectionate with people and that’s what’s always made him so easily lovable in the first place, what made Taehyung a boy who was born to be loved.

And he was tricky, his expressions and feelings always indistinguishable with the composed, nuanced way he carried himself especially now, convincing you reading him was a lost cause.

Though as you glanced at Taehyung right now, visibly nervous, his usually schooled face and unreadable expression now indicating nerves, awkwardness you two have never really experienced between each other before, you decided maybe you should stop making excuses.

Stop avoiding signs and doubting his every move and burying your feelings so deep underground, that maybe you should just fucking take your leap of faith already.

So you stepped closer to him, your figure almost laughably smaller compared to him, and watched as his pretty eyes brightened in surprise at you.

It only took a few seconds, for your lips to curve reassuringly, for your soft hands to cup his face delicately against the edge of his sharp jaw. To get on the tip of your toes and bring your lips to Taehyung’s, pressing a heartfelt kiss to mouth.

A kiss so very soft and tender, it was like teenagers kissing for the very first time, and it made you giggle on the inside, thinking that’s exactly how your entire ordeal has felt like; your two teenage selves trying to navigate whatever feelings lied between you.

Taehyung was shocked, having been silently berating himself for being too bold too quickly and thinking his abandonment of chivalry in that instance was wrong, the air between you having been tainted with a sense of unspoken, though apparent awkwardness for the rest of the party.

But now, now you were kissing him, and for the first time, his insides leaping at just the prospect. It felt like a damn dream, though the press of your mouth against his confirmed it was in fact real, that it was gladly his sweet reality.

That after years of imagining what it would feel like, he’s kissing the girl he’s loved since the second he saw her hair glow in the rays of the sunset, the minute he realized she wasn’t just pretty, but beautiful to him, the hour he’d witness the moonlight kiss her skin when she stayed up with him on sleepless nights, leading all the way up to the year he realized she’d leave him, so soon, so fucking soon it absolutely crushed him.

And Taehyung wouldn’t admit it you, but your departure left his heart ravaged for quite possibly years, continuously overthinking how different things would’ve been if he just told you. Told you how he felt, told you that behind every innuendo, behind every hug, every tease, every stupid smile he flashed your way, that there was love behind it all.

Pure, unadulterated love.

He regretted it for months, for years thinking he’d truly lost the greatest opportunity in his life having let you go without protest, without fighting for you like he should’ve.

It hurt, it hurt until he’d eventually grown accustomed to the ache in his heart whenever he saw that same plaid pattern on anyone else, reminded of the jacket you wore to school everyday. The way he found himself subconsciously comparing nearly every girl he dated to you, how on rainy days and quiet nights, he sometimes wondered where you were, what you were doing, if you were awake at this time of night like he usually was, remembering the way the moonlight always seemed to love you, just like he loved you.

And he still did, Taehyung thought. He still loved you, now feeling your lips kiss him, your adorable height making you tippy-toe, the gentle way you held his face comforting.

Your lips then disconnected, Taehyung seeing your gaze was warm, something so reminiscent of affection, adoration in your eyes, and he thought in that one, singular moment that maybe, just maybe...

You loved him too.

“Fuck, this snow is bad.” Taehyung swore as he gauged any clear path of the road ahead.

“I hate to admit this, but the group was right. It was probably better staying at Jimin’s.” You sighed, worried about the amount of damn white you were seeing blanket the world outside.

“I thought if we left early we could escape it, but shit, mother nature is always so fickle.” He complained.

“It’s her charm, unfortunately.” You shrugged, realizing there was truly no way for you to get home now. “It’s early too, the snow ploughs won’t clear the roads just yet.” There was suddenly a concerned lilt to your tone as you peered ahead, gripping Taehyung’s arm and it grabbed his attention. “It’s getting dangerous too, Tae. I don’t want you driving in this.”

Taehyung was glad he had the gifted ability of hiding his emotions, because right now he would’ve been embarrassingly over the moon. He smiled back to you reassuringly, then contemplated an alternative.

“Would you.. rather come to my place?” Taehyung inquired, biting his lip once he realized he stupidly stuttered.

You blinked. “What?”

“Well, my place is much closer, and it’d be less dangerous driving there. You can just stay until they clear the roads.” Taehyung relayed casually, expectant eyes on you as his hands tapped against the steering wheel.

Your face slowly turned into an appreciative smile, taken aback by his act of kindness, but also felt something exciting tickle the bottom of your stomach.

“Sure, I’d love that.”

Taehyung shut the door of his apartment as you removed your boots, shredding stray snowflakes off his jacket when he spotted similar ones on yours, his hands naturally jutting out to rid the tiny icicles off you.

You turned around at his touch, thanking him and he smiled a welcome back. He’d taken your jacket just like before and tucked them away into his closet, gesturing towards his living room for you to get comfortable.

“Make yourself at home, do you want water or anything?”

“Yeah, actually. Water would be nice.” Taehyung nodded as he made for his kitchen, you tucking the skirt of your dress underneath you as you took your humble seat on his couch.

His home was so painfully Taehyung, it had you smiling like an idiot he was still the same. The same introspective Taehyung who adored art and photography, the same Taehyung who absolutely hated shoes and you could tell just by the way he abandoned them earlier he still had the same habit. Even to the way his house reflected this artistic, calming, and nuanced feeling he similarly had.

It drew you to admire some of the pieces draping his walls, when Taehyung returned with a glass of water, handing it to you as he plopped down on the couch. “Here.”

“Thank you.” You took the glass, gulping down some of the liquid for your parched throat.

“Your apartment is nice.”

“Thanks.”

You then both sat in silence for a short while, tapping the edge of the glass in your hand as you scanned the rest of his charming home. The silence wasn’t awkward considering the past events of today, just a silence in its definition.

“I still can’t believe I ran into you at a coffee shop.” Taehyung suddenly remarked, looking off at his table in front with a smile tugging his lips.

You chuckled. “Why? Too meet-cute for you?”

“No.” He chuckled too. “It’s just, I really thought it was the end when you left after graduation.” Taehyung paused for a poignant moment, air heavy with something as you watched him muster the courage to say something else.

“I thought I’d never see you again.”

He claimed it with such a sense of sadness, sense of longing that reminded you of how upset you also were that day, the rampant emotions that came crashing down realizing you were leaving behind an entire life.

“Me too.” You added with a similarly downcast tone. “I thought I’d never see you again, either.”

Taehyung then looked at you, eyes meeting your gaze. “I’m glad that wasn’t true.” Something lingered behind his words, something incredibly thick and telling, though you deflected it with a joke to lighten the air.

“I’m glad you didn’t delete my PowerPoints, either.” You snickered, hand coming up to cover your mouth, “I used to put a lot of work into them.”

Taehyung scoffed playfully, smiling through a chuckle as he responded. “I didn’t have the heart to. You were so passionate about your hatred for fruit on pizza.”

“I still am.” You added. “Do you really have them?”

“Yeah, I do. Let me show you.” Taehyung then pulled out his phone from his pocket, clicking away on the device as he scooted closer to you and leaned in, you similarly doing so and peering at a Google Drive folder of your wonderfully crafted presentations.

“Oh my God, I thought you were joking.” You snorted, snickering at the hilarious folder name; ‘Y/N says Fuck Hawaiian Pizza: the Saga’

“Nope, couldn’t delete them even if I was dared to.” Taehyung laughed with you, both of your eyes naturally falling as he shut off his phone, the conversation shifting.

“You know, I never actually hated it that much.” You admitted sheepishly. “I just liked annoying you and wasting 5 minutes of your day with every presentation.”

Taehyung looked scandalized at first, mouth falling agape until he ultimately let it go, admitting something of his own. “You know, I never actually needed your history notes. I just liked being annoying about stealing them so you always had to chase me down.” Taehyung’s smile was suddenly impish, shy as he fixated on fiddling with his slender fingers.

“After all that running I always did after you too? Jheez, you’re the reason I have strong calves now.”

“And you’re the reason I’m really good at presentations now.” You both chuckled together, the old days coming back in bouts until your mood changed, remembering Jimin’s advice from earlier.

As you looked at Taehyung, while he didn’t look at you, you could only help but find every reason in the world to listen to Jimin. Because Taehyung was Taehyung, he was the Taehyung that stole your heart with his boxy grin, the Taehyung who made every other man seem like an unappealing idiot you wanted nothing to do with, the same Taehyung who’s heart was made of love, and you wanted nothing but to return to him the love he gifted the world.

Because you loved Taehyung, no matter how much you’ll try to deny it, you still love him. All his smiles and giggles and soft hair and his sometimes coltish, though endearing ways of being himself. All his hard expressions and intimidating eyes and handsome looks and the way he holds a universe of stars in his old soul.

So your next words flowed, flowed more fluently than anything ever has in your life.

“You know,” You paused, eyes faltering to the glass in your hand. “I think, for the majority of high school... I had a crush on you, but I never said anything because I thought you wouldn’t want me.”

And there came the silence, the piercing, God awful silence you were so afraid of and so sure was spelling your doom. You didn’t dare look up from your glass now, downright terrified he was probably pulling the most confused face ever, and his silence was deafening. It had you contemplating the best way to jump out his window, he was only, what, 14 stories up? A human can survive a fall that high, right?

“You wanna know something?” Taehyung suddenly broke the silence, his deep, dulcet voice sounding beautifully in his apartment, and your eyes widened the second he opened his mouth next.

“I think I was in love with you for the majority of high school, but I didn’t say anything because I thought you never felt the same way.” And that’s when everything clicked, when your eyes widened in revelation, when it suddenly felt like the 6 years you spent battling your feelings for him was nothing but a sad joke.

Because this moment, alone, made you realize you two had the same hearts all along.

“You wanna know something?” You swallowed hard, eyes still on your glass as it shifted in your hand mindlessly. “I think... I’m still in love with you.”

You couldn’t see Taehyung, because you didn’t dare look at him at a time like this. You just sat there, breathing as leveled as you could until you felt Taehyung shift on the couch. He’d moved closer, closing the small gap between you both, beckoning you to finally look at him and that’s exactly what you did.

He spoke low, deep and low and it had your toes curling at just how proximal he was, his beautiful eyes gazing at you like you meant the universe and more to him.

And little did you know, you really did.

“I think..” He started, gripping the glass of water from your hands and placing it onto his coffee table. “I’m still in love with you, too.”

And your heart was set ablaze in a matter of seconds, your tentative eyes finding Taehyung’s as he leaned in, large palms on either side of your body as he inched closer, closer, and closer, until all he could see were your lips, jutting his face forward until his lips just brushed yours.

You chased his mouth a little, fluttering your eyes shut and Taehyung couldn’t help but smile before finally, finally pressing his lips to yours.

His mouth kissed you slow at first, slow and steady and it was intoxicating just like this. He constantly chased your lips, mouthing at them sensually and it was driving you insane, just the taste of his lips with a hint of wine on his breath shooting electricity to your core.

His hands moved to your sides, wrapping around your rib cage as he leaned you back onto the couch and laid on top of you. His body covered you as far as you could see, your dainty hands coming up to find his jawline and pull him against your lips fervently.

He slowly grew more passionate, smoothing over your sides as he mouthed for more of you, swallowing the little moans you made that vibrated through his body and it only revved is engine more.

Taehyung was taken, completely taken by how much he wanted you that he could only see you, could only think about all the dirty but soft and tender and passionate things he wanted to do to you.

One of his hands travelled underneath your thigh, pulling your leg up against him as he pressed his hips into your core, his hardening cock prodding you through his clothes once he started a gentle rocking motion.

Your hands travelled up his beautiful neck and tangled into his hair as you reciprocated. A slight tug left him groaning into your mouth, causing you to buck up into him harshly and it sent Taehyung’s mind into a dangerous place.

His breathing elevated against you, gripping your ribs so urgently it only made you pull him closer, arch your chest into his just so you could relish in the feeling. Your heart was thrumming in your chest, veins coursing with adrenaline so white hot it wasn’t long before you were moving desperately with Taehyung and it fueled your horny nerves.

Taehyung suddenly disconnected his mouth from you, breathing so shallow his chest was rising and falling fast. He was only centimeters above as he looked down at you, his eyes boring into yours with such a prominent sense of longing, want, pure desire, it took him no time to speak.

“Do you know how long..” He took a breath. “I’ve wanted to do that?”

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you to do that?” You replied, hands now smoothing over his shoulders to feel him, his body raging hot as he laid on top of you, looking at you like you were the only thing he ever wanted.

“Fuck, we’re so stupid.” Taehyung quickly said before his mouth crashed onto yours. This time there was something carnal in his kiss, something urgent and hot and it only made you pull him closer for more.

His tongue began to lick over your lips, slithering inside your mouth and the taste of him was euphoric, making you tangle your tongue with his just to taste him over and over again, until it was safe to say your tongues were down each other’s throats.

He kissed you sloppily, kissed until he was consuming you, his fingers digging into your thigh and side so fervently you knew there’d be marks, and it made your spine shiver, even more so when he spoke again.

“The minute.. I saw you in that dress..” He breathed out, kissing in between the exhaustion of his lungs. “I wanted to rip it off you.”

You groaned desperately at his confession, wanting Taehyung in ways that were so utterly carnal, almost feral, your entire being wanting to consume every inch of him, lay a million kisses across his honey-coloured skin and hear his caramel voice whisper into your ear, and so it didn’t take long for you to voice your desire.

“Taehyung..” You sighed, a satisfied lilt to your tone and it only lit Taehyung on fire.

“Mm?” He hummed, licking into your mouth on a quest for everything inside, his hips now grinding into your clothed cunt so harshly he was practically dry humping you, and without a second thought you were moving yourself against him too, hands exploring his broad chest.

“Taehyung..” You were more urgent, and it made Taehyung grunt harshly. “Rip it off me, Tae, unwrap me like you said you would.” You started harshly tugging at his offensive shirt, tracing the column of his throat as you relished in his delicious kisses.

And it all made Taehyung move so much harder, so much more roughly you were moaning into his mouth at the press of his hard, long cock against your aching core.

“Ruin me, Taehyung.” You scratched your nails against his neck, swallowing him into your mouth as you talked. “I want you to ruin me.”

“Fuck,” Taehyung swore, his length beginning to prod you so much more apparently as you bucked your hips up into him, it was sending Taehyung down the proverbial hole. And when you let out another gorgeous moan of his name, he knew he was a goner.

“Fuck, I can’t do this anymore.”

Taehyung then harshly grabbed your wrists and forced them against the couch in a single motion, eyes growing dark with heat radiating of his body in waves. He darted to the underside of your jaw and kissed hard, began mouthing at your skin until he travelled to the junction of your neck, sucking over the sensitive skin so rampantly it had you squirming underneath him, desperately trying to feel him against your core.

His pretty purple marks began blooming onto your neck, evidence of his raw desire for you, the years he spent longing for you. His teeth were nipping your skin, tongue licking over the bites as he pressed your wrists further into the couch the more you resisted.

You breath hitched when he moved to the slightly exposed valley of your breasts, making your nipples harden at just the prospect of his mouth travelling there. You began fighting his hold, causing you to arch into him as something dawned on you.

“Taehyung.. your shirt.” You whined, trying to manage the pleasure of his mouth canvasing your skin.

Taehyung left you for a mere second to shred off the annoying piece of clothing, tossing it aside as he returned to you urgently, your legs hooking around his torso as he came back to you.

His mouth was sucking hickeys onto your chest again when his hands began to smooth down your sides, so sensually purposeful until he reached underneath the hem of your dress, hooking onto the waistline of your pantyhose and panties, tugging teasingly.

Your core ignited at just his touch against bare skin, gushing as your hips harshly grinded against his body and your hands smoothed over the lean muscle of his body.

He yanked the pieces of clothing down the curve of your ass, proceeding to pull them past your thighs as you unhooked your legs to help take them off you.

The rush of the cold against your wet pussy lips made your breath hitch beautifully, one of Taehyung’s hands moving your skirt to let his large, warm palm cup your sex so pleasurably the contrast of the size of his hand and your little cunt sent you both ablaze.

“You’re so small, think you can take me, good girl?” Taehyung breathed against your chest. “I’ll fuck up your insides.” His baritone voice was dark and low as he warned you, sent arousal spiking through your nerves as you groaned.

“Fuck up my insides, Tae.” You desperately moaned out, hands finding Taehyung’s hair as he continued to lay searing kisses to your hot skin, his fingers rubbing your dripping folds harshly. “I just.. I need you, Taehyung, so fucking badly.”

“Say it again.” Taehyung hissed, exposing one of your bare breasts from your dress and pressing his tongue against a perched nipple, the wet sensation so satisfying you were scratching his shoulder blades.

“I-I need you, Taehyung.”

“Need me where?” He growled as he pressed against your clit and circled it, collecting your slick and spreading it all over yourself.

And it was hard, so fucking hard to think straight with your bare, soaking wet pussy was rubbing against Taehyung’s rough fingers and his lips sucking your exposed nipple for dear life, the pleasure burning inside you so hot your voice was coming out in choked moans.

“Need you inside, Taehyung.” You gasped out. “So empty without you, so fucking empty, for so long.”

“God, fuck.” Taehyung groaned proudly, popping off your breast to look at your half-lidded eyes, his own blown out with his hair mussed and lips swollen pink. He returned to your lips again as his hands simultaneously hooked underneath your thighs and suddenly lifted you off the couch, your legs secured around his torso as he walked you into what you assumed was his bedroom.

Your core rubbed against the buckle of Taehyung’s belt as he walked and you gushed oceans, the cool metal providing such delicious friction you were moaning satisfyingly into Taehyung’s mouth, grinding against him for more.

His kiss was fervent even when he splayed you onto his covers, back hitting the bed as you stroked your hands over his beautiful bare chest.

Taehyung suddenly came off you, eyes going wild as he looked down at your panting figure underneath him, then your offensive dress.

“Fuck this thing.” Taehyung nearly ripped it from your body, shredding the pretty fabric off and simply basked in the glory of seeing your naked body for the very first time.

Taehyung’s eyes filled with pure wonder, the moonlight and reflection of white snow falling outside adding a glow to your skin he couldn’t help but marvel at, your curves so beautiful he wanted to run his hands all over, the purple of his marks left on you only making him blossom with more arousal, more passion.

“Holy shit, you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Taehyung’s face was so blown away, you couldn’t help but grow a little shy, bringing him close to you by his neck so you could breathe into his ear.

“Good, I hear you ruin them.”

Taehyung could only smirk, rolling his tongue on the inside of his cheek, cock twitching at just your words. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Taehyung trailed one hand down your body, momentarily wrapping it around your throat until it was gliding over your nipple and down to your core, lining the lips of your pussy so teasingly you were reeling.

The pads of his fingers smoothed over your pussy lips again, applying pressure to your clit that had you lurching, until he used the opportunity to slide two fingers into your aching hole with ease.

“You’re so fucking wet, dripping all over my fingers.” He growled into your ear as he laid himself on top of you, his free hand holding your face while the other worked your core.

The sharpness of his long, slender fingers were euphoric, causing you to moan loudly. You could see his hard dick pressing against the fabric of his slacks almost painfully, and you jutted your hand out to begin palming him generously.

Taehyung could finally hiss as loud as he wanted, screwing his eyes shut in sheer pleasure.

He began pumping you faster in response, sliding in and out so deliciously you were moaning incessantly against his mouth as he began kissing you again. Your breasts were pressing into Taehyung’s bare chest the more you arched yourself, closing the offensive gap between you both and the skin to skin contact sending you both to cloud nine.

“Taehyung..” You moaned in between kisses, so shameless about your desire for him you only wanted to know his name.

“Taehyung.”

“Fucking hell, that does shit to me.” Taehyung began thrusting harshly into your hole now as punishment, practically finger-fucking you against his bed till it made your walls clamp down on him, trap his slender fingers inside so you could feel every heavenly inch of them.

You became hungry for more, your hand grabbing at Taehyung’s straining cock harder and the strangled groan that left his lips was so fucking beautiful, your insides were screaming.

“Shit, Taehyung,” You moaned out breathlessly. “You’re so hot like this, so fucking hot. Fuck me, fuck me like you said you would. ”

Taehyung’s breaths turned heavy and hungry, his cock aching to be inside you so painfully he was going insane at your every word.

“Fuck. I’m fucking you into next week. I’m fucking you until you only know my name. Fucking you until you know how badly I’ve wanted you, until your legs are shaking and you feel me in your throat.”

“Then do it.” You nearly cried out, hands fumbling with the waistband of Taehyung’s pants. Your pussy was aching so excruciatingly around Taehyung’s fingers your slick was gushing from you, all over him and it only made Taehyung feral thinking about what would happen if it were his dick instead.

“Fucking do it, Taehyung, fuck me until I’m shaking.”

Taehyung flipped his switch and suddenly shoved his fingers so deep inside you, scissoring you completely open it made you lurch up in searing pleasure. His large palm grabbed underneath your head and positioned you upwards, able to angle his fingers so he could smash them inside you so harshly it was pathetic it wasn’t even his dick that had you high, but just his fingers.

“Holy fuck, Taehyung!”

“Cum all over my fingers, pretty. I wanna hear you.” Taehyung growled into your ear, couldn’t help but think about your walls convulsing around his dick and it was euphoric hearing you moan, all fucked out underneath him.

He couldn’t stop finger-fucking you like his life depended on it, wanted to fill you up in so many ways you’d remember him for weeks.

You were almost there, the edge so close. It was racking the bottom of your stomach, had your toes curling and walls pounding so snug around Taehyung’s fingers you could only latch onto the nape of his neck for dear life.

You felt it, felt it so near and had his name leaving your mouth in such an intoxicating mantra you were seconds from letting go. Seconds, milliseconds, just about to release your impending orgasm until Taehyung ripped his fingers out of you.

You gasped scandalously at the loss, body buzzing with your unachieved high it made your exclaim come out in a garbled protest. “Taehyung, what the fuck?!”

You tried getting an answer, but Taehyung’s hungry, half-lidded eyes shut you up immediately, watching him lick his fingers like he was starved, like this was the sweetest honey he’s ever tasted.

“Fuck, you taste as sweet as you look.” Taehyung’s grin was evil, and it made you turned on but pissed he denied your orgasms.

“You’re so-” You attempted to get out, but Taehyung suddenly flipped you onto all fours in a second, your hands and knees anchored onto the bed with only your shocked figure confused.

“T-Taehyung, what are you-” You then sighed at the sudden touch of his tongue meeting your weeping hole in a devilish swipe. It was intoxicating, feeling his wet muscle begin licking into your core and tasting your soaked folds from behind.

“I’m doing what you asked..” His voice was dark and weighty, and that’s when you suddenly felt another sensation of his two fingers returning to your throbbing entrance. Your insides buzzed when he spoke against your core, grittier than he ever has all night. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

And his tongue suddenly slithered into your hole when he removed his fingers, licking into your entrance in a harsh rhythm as his palms began grabbing at your ass, kneading the meaty flesh as he straight up devoured your pussy like it was the only thing he’s wanted his entire life.

His tongue was lapping you fervently, so starved your dissipated orgasm was coming back again. You were winded, having never been eaten out like this and you were moaning his name loud enough to get noise complaints filed to the police.

“Taehyung!” You cried out, though he didn’t let up. Instead he brought one of his hands to your pulsing clit, circling and applying so much necessary pressure you were losing your mind, insane off the fact he hadn’t even filled you up with his cock yet and you were pathetic underneath him.

“Fucking God, Taehyung, Tae!” And when he groaned so audibly into your pussy, rutting himself against the bed for friction it sent you flying, soaring into the sky and losing all coherent thought as your orgasm bubbled in your stomach, his husky voice grounding you to Earth.

“Cum for me, baby, now.” And that was all it took to have you lurching over the edge, releasing your pent up orgasm so violently you were nearly screaming, Taehyung’s name the only distinguishable thing rolling off your tongue.

He licked up your juices like they were fresh water, helping you ride out your euphoric orgasm and allowing yourself a moment to rest. You breathed, falling onto the bed in exhaustion, trying to quell the blood pumping in your ears when Taehyung suddenly pulled you back onto your hands and knees, cautioning you darkly when he spoke.

“You thought we were done?” It was evil, he was evil, the way his voice sounded like the epitome of a smirk as you tried catching your breath. Taehyung’s lips then suddenly ghosted the shell of your ear as he wrapped an arm around your torso, pressing his chest to your back as he spoke.

“I haven’t even done anything yet.”

And again, it was the ‘yet’ that had you groaning out in frustration but in the best possible ways. How wasn’t this already enough? How did he have you so fucked out just by the sheer power of his fingers and tongue? It was sickening, he was sickening and you found yourself throwing your ass back on him to urge his cock into you already, to just fuck you open with all he had.

“Taehyung, just-fuck! Fuck me, please.” You were pleading, needing to feel the wreckage of what you could tell was the biggest cock you’ll ever take.

Taehyung had removed his pants and boxers in the moment, freeing his painfully angry cock from it’s confines. You were faltering from your position again when Taehyung suddenly prodded your abused hole with his engorged tip, you shuddering to life harshly.

“Taehyung, just-”

“Beg me.”

You cried out in immediate desperation, his voice so authoritative it was sending you into submission, clutching the covers under you so hard your knuckles were white as you complied. “Taehyung, please, fuck me. I need you, please.”

Taehyung’s arm was snug around your torso, feeling your every quaking expire in his hold and it was turning him on so agonizingly this was painful even for himself, but the way your sweet voice begged him was absolutely exhilarating.

“More.”

“Taehyung, if you don’t fucking-!” You were cut off by the sharp impalement of Taehyung’s cock in a single breath, knocking all forms of wind out of you. The head alone was so large you went hurtling into the mattress, almost losing your shaking arms’ support until Taehyung pulled you back up for him, snaking his one hand that was previously around his cock to your breast while the other gripped at your hip.

He was slowly sinking in, feeling your walls flutter open for him and the satisfied moan that left his mouth was evidence of how much this was affecting him.

“Fuck...” Taehyung dragged out completely content, digging into your hip to watch you arch your back for him, on his knees as he filled you up from behind. “You’re so fucking tight and wet, holy shit.”

You were struggling for air, oxygen leaving your lungs trying to accommodate for his monstrous size. It was unfair, so unfair he was so big and it had you praising him immediately, so full and stuffed it was the most pleasurable thing you’ve experienced all your life.

“You’re so big, oh my God, Taehyung, so big.” One of your hands shot towards his holding you by your hip, interlacing your fingers together against your skin just to ground yourself, to manage the sharp pierce of his length until it simmered into a pleasurable burn.

He bottomed out into your cervix and you both grunted loud, Taehyung containing himself just so he could feel your velvet walls palpitate around his throbbing dick. “Do you feel how hard I am, Y/N? Do you fucking feel it?”

“Yes, God fuck! Tae, yes..” You sighed out, eyes watering at just how much pleasure was already raking your abdomen again.

“That’s what you do to me, you barely touched me and this is how hard I am. How fucking badly I want you, how much I’ve always wanted you, wanted you since day one.” Taehyung’s voice was sincere and desperate, seemingly trying to counter your confession of your feelings from earlier.

“Show me, Taehyung.” You moaned, hands gripping his more affectionately, more desperately as you weakly held yourself up by the other. “Fuck me and show me how much you want me.”

Taehyung grunted out harshly, pulling his cock out of you until he thrusted back in. The first thrust had you keening, sending you into the mattress only to have Taehyung pull you back up once again. Then the second came, your walls greedily soaking him into you and it felt perfect, like two puzzle pieces meant to connect with each other.

Then came the third, the fourth, the fifth, all the way until Taehyung was pounding into you from behind with a drag so delicious you were moaning out more than you ever have in your entire life.

And it was sickening, utterly sickening the way his dick began fucking you into the mattress so roughly, angling your body in ways for his cock to pump into all the right places with the right amount of pressure. He watched himself disappear into your little cunt repeatedly, holding your hip up to encourage you to arch so low your ass was snug against his pelvis, and couldn’t think of anything more fucking perfect.

“You take me so well, so fucking well.” Taehyung praised, leaning over to aimlessly lay wet kisses up your spine like the demon he was, shoving himself into you over and over and over again with your walls convulsing around him.

You were trapping him inside you so tight he could spill into you in seconds, though held back determined he was making you cum again.

“So full, Taehyung, so deep.. all I feel is you.” The statement left you with a desperate sigh, your head hanging low until Taehyung’s hand kneading your breast suddenly wrapped around your throat, causing you to gasp at the arousing feeling. He pulled your head upwards, the junction between his long index finger and thumb forcing you to look forward, and you were utterly breathless at the scene.

His lips were near your ear in seconds, speaking like the devil incarnate as he was bent over you. “Look at us, look at yourself, so fucking pretty, so perfect.” You could suddenly see the reflection of Taehyung fucking into you from behind in his window, not even knowing tears had streamed down your face as his hand beautifully encased your throat, causing every nerve in your body to alight with fire.

“Look at the way I fuck you, how much I love you.” Taehyung’s carnal eyes looked at you through the reflection of the window, heart twinging at the sight of you crying but knowing he’s making you feel good, continuing his onslaught of drilling your battered pussy.

You moaned at the erotic scene, using every ounce of strength to keep yourself upright, your walls pulsing around Taehyung’s length as he thrusted harder and harder.

“Tae, fuck! I’ve always loved you, I always felt the same way, and I still do-ah!” Your lungs were tapping out when he suddenly shoved himself inside you to the brim, so utterly deep before he was thrusting again harshly, strangling out moans.

Clear sweat was slick between your bodies, his huge, delicious cock incessantly tearing up your insides and all you could do was chant his name in pleasure, in bliss, in your love for him that was burning so bright it was nearly painful.

“Y/N.. fuck. You’re ruining me. You’re so perfect, we’re so fucking perfect.” Taehyung was rambling at this point as his speed reflected his desperation, his immeasurable feelings for you.

He was trying his damn hardest to distract himself from the release aching his balls. He was growing weak himself, feeling you reciprocate his rough thrusts by fucking him back the same way. And the image in the window? Had him reeling, needing to hear the most beautiful sound you’d make when you finally came, and he knew you would, bordering the precipice with the way your walls pulsed around him.

Watching Taehyung fuck you in the window was now downright sinful to you, his harsh thrusts completely blissful and his hand gently squeezing at your throat was so dominant, so hot you were at your limit and ready to come.

But what ended up sending you over, pushing you to release the tightening knot in your stomach was the sweet, tender way Taehyung began kissing your neck.

The contrast between his cock abusing you and his plush lips kissing you so gently, so lovingly, it wasn’t long before you realized his fucking wasn’t just hard or rough, but full of sheer want, desire, love in all the right ways your walls were clenching around him rapidly in seconds.

And when Taehyung angled himself somehow deeper, in that one, perfect spot, you clamped down and finally came so hard you saw stars, knew you’d completely drenched his cock with the loudest release of his name you were glad it was the only word you knew in this moment.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that.” Taehyung breathed out in exhaustion, began soothing your abdomen with one hand and the other letting your head finally hang, grip loosened from around your throat and you could finally allow air back into your lungs.

You were heaving when you spoke up, realizing something. “Inside me.. Taehyung.” You were dreary, utterly gone, but it still didn’t distract you from the blissful feeling of Taehyung’s cock deliciously stuffed and throbbing inside you, trying to coax his rightful release. “Cum inside me, Tae. Please, fill me up.”

Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice when his cock worked a few more rough strokes into your tightened pussy and finally, finally came inside you. It was laced with a satisfied groan of your name, his grip on your side so intense you’d be glad if he left marks, wanting to remember every last bit of this night with Taehyung.

He painted you completely white inside, spilling everything he could offer into you, using what little strength he had left to hold you up while he continued to empty his seed inside. Taehyung then lost all function and allowed you to fall, his broad body resting on top of yours as you both hit the mattress.

Your chests rose and fell shallowly, completely taxed and having lost every ounce of strength. Taehyung’s hot breaths for air were fanning your neck, your arms sprawled out before you as Taehyung’s hands mindlessly interlaced with them against the tousled covers, cock still stuffing you whole.

It was another moment of breathing and regaining oxygen when Taehyung suddenly kissed the side of your neck, giving your hands a small squeeze before you felt him lifting himself, his warmth disappearing and you panicked.

“Where are you going?” Your throat was hoarse from screaming and moaning, a tinge of sadness to your tone as though he was leaving you, and Taehyung couldn’t help but find it endearing.

“It’s okay, I’ll be right back.” He smiled, moving your hair from the side of your face to plant a kiss to your cheek, post-sex haze racking his brain though allowing reality to leak back into his mind.

He then carefully, slowly pulled himself out of you, you whining at the loss of him and Taehyung smiled to himself in contentment, smoothing over your lower back with a palm in gratitude, before stepping towards his bathroom.

He’d pulled his boxers back on and returned with a damp cloth, finding you still flipped and laying on your stomach, having dozed off in exhaustion until you felt Taehyung’s warmth and heard his dulcet voice hazing you awake.

“Y/N, turn over for me.” His voice was hushed and tender, you complying by turning onto your back with his help. He then carefully swept the cloth against your battered core, you wincing a little with sensitivity and Taehyung made sure to clean more gently.

The cloth was thrown back into his bathroom when he turned back to you, an arm thrown over your tear-stained face and the other clutching your body, clearly shivering in the cold now.

Taehyung easily scooped you into his arms and lifted you off the bed, carrying you over to his pillows and delicately placing you upon his duvet, pulling the covers out from underneath you and tucking you into his bed.

You curled up into his blanket, Taehyung searching through his drawers for a stray t-shirt you could wear. He then lifted you into a sitting position, your eyes evidently sleepy and body limp as he pulled the shirt onto you, letting you fall back in place.

Taehyung could only chuckle to himself thinking he did mean to ruin you, but not so harshly you were devoid of consciousness. He placed a little kiss to your forehead in apology, wiping some of the tears off your face before he rounded the bed, crawling in next to you.

His arms reached out to pull your back snug against his chest, feeling the sleep in the back of his eyes take him. He basked in the strawberry scent of your hair, completely gratified until you suddenly turned over towards him.

His eyes shot open, only the top of your head coming into view as you nuzzled into his warm chest, your small self all tucked into Taehyung as he wrapped his arms around you like a safety net, holding you near.

And in that moment, all he could focus on was your light breathing, the sweet sound of your voice as you suddenly spoke in the dark of the night, moonlight glowing upon your entangled bodies.

“I love you, Taehyung.”

He grinned, the kind where he felt relieved, fulfilled, in a state of sheer bliss it was a moment before he replied, his own voice calm as you felt the hum through his chest, his hand tangled in your hair.

“I love you, Y/N.”

The morning sun bled into Taehyung’s room, your eyes fluttering open at a time you had no concept of. You stirred, finding yourself still in Taehyung’s arm, in relatively the same position from last night. You didn’t even feel like moving from his hold, the feeling so utterly fuzzy and comforting.

You basked in the sensation until he began to stir next to you, pretty eyelashes batting as his eyes fluttered open. His sights fell to you, eyes adorably taken by sleep while his soft hair was endearingly mussed by his pillow. You smiled at him warmly as he grinned back.

“Good morning.” you said shyly, nearly hiding underneath his covers.

“Good morning.”

You then flopped onto your back peering up at the ceiling, last night coming back to you in dream-like flashes you were surprised was somehow your reality.

It was just miraculous, utterly unbelievable until Taehyung turning into your side and snuggling his face into your neck was evidence everything was real, that he was real. It wasn’t some remnant of a dream or hallucination, but the real Taehyung as his arm draped over your stomach.

You had to bite your lip to contain your happiness, utter exuberance the universe had somehow finally paired you and him together, and funnily enough, on Christmas of all days.

“What are you thinking about, princess?” Taehyung hummed into your collarbone inquisitively, half asleep as he cuddled you.

You smiled, basking in his comfort. “Merry Christmas, Taehyung.”

Taehyung chuckled against you, arm pulling you closer to him as he kissed your neck. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Can you believe we met each other again during Christmas? It’s like the perfect Christmas miracle.” You marveled in wonder, tracing your finger along Taehyung’s pretty hand on your stomach.

“I mean, you know what Andy Williams said..” He mused next to you, husky voice laden with sleep. “It’s the most wonderful time of the year.”

#underthemistletoe #kscwinter2020 #ksmutclub #thebtswritersclub #bangtanhq #kwritersworldnet #thetruthuntoldnet #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #taehyung scenario #taehyung oneshot #taehyung fanfiction #kim taehyung

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favberrys · 3 years

Text

I'm bored and in a kkg brainrot mood, so i'm just gonna rant about my opinions of kakegurui ships and i will make some headcanons:

Kirasaya

Ok i had to start with them bc they're just too iconic, i think they have one of the most interesting and complex dynamics in kkg, they really got me obsessed with them, it's probably my number one kakegurui ship and the reason i started watching the show and reading the manga. Honestly yeah their relationship has some power imbalance, since sayaka is kirari's secretary, and is probably disfunctional, but contrary to what some ppl say kirasaya is not abusive, kirari never physically or emotionally abuses sayaka throughout the story. Anyway they're a 10/10, peak lesbian yearning, if they don't kiss at least one i will jump the author. Probably one of my fav ships ever, i think they're made for each other and i can't see kirasaya with anyone else, they're just so good together and their chemistry is >>>>>>

Yumary

Ok this one is kinda an unpopular opinion bc most people like yumary, but honestly i can't get invested into it, there's something in this ship that doesn't make my heart go "fuck yeah they should be gfs". Personally i don't ship yumeko with anyone bc i can't imagine her in a relationship since her main thing is being a compulsive gambler, her existence revolves around it and she forms relationships when they're useful for her gambling games. I think yumary could be friends with benefits for some time, but after a while mary would probably break it off because i don't think she can handle a sexual/romantic relationship with yumeko and after a while it would make her go nuts. A friendship between them is already messy and complicated and honestly i don't think they are compatible that way. Yes they have chemistry and there's probably some mutual attraction but to me it's a no. Also can cishet dudes stop fetishizing this ship ? My vote is 6/10, mostly bc mary doesn't seem much physically comfortable with yumeko, idk mary just seems off with her in that sense and i prefer them as gambling partners or friends.

Meariri

I honestly love this ship, especially after reading the manga, they have such an great dynamic, i think they both care about each other, they have chemistry and i think they're compatible and that their personalities compliment each other, mary is often loud and aggressive and passionate while ririka is more closed off and quiet, they're like fire and ice and this case i think the saying "opposite attract" works with them. Mary counts on ririka and i love the fact that she is so comfortable with her physically (mary is almost always the one to initiate the contact, holding her hand, touching her head, etc) and ririka gets inspired by mary to be her own person and chase her goals. Plus they're really cute together, aesthetically i find them the most attractive couple, i'll give them a solid 9/10

Itsukaede

Lmao i don't even know if this is the correct ship name for itsuki x kaede, ok i don't hate it and i think they could work as a couple, it's not my cup of tea bc m/f ships bore me, but i like their relationship, they have the kind of old married couple dynamic that always works. 6/10.

Ryomeko

I can see it happening, i don't ship it, but i don't mind it either, i'm kinda neutral about ryota x yumeko, but i think he's one of the ppl who care about yumeko the most in that academy (with also mary ofc), the ship is boring bc ryota is bland (he's a good guy don't get me wrong and he defo doesn't deserve the hate he gets) and as i said previously i don't ship yumeko with anyone. Sorry i gotta give it 5/6 out of 10

Yumedari

Ok i love midari but just like yumeko, i don't ship her with anyone bc i see her as someone who's too much unstable for relationships, but i know that canonically she loves/likes/is attracted to yumeko so i don't hate this ship, i think it's decent, the only problem is that yumeko hates midari. Still i think that since they're the most insane mfs in that school somehow this ship could work. 6/10

Yuridari

Again midari in my eyes is kinda unshippable, but this ship is not bad at all, they would have that kind of bickering married couple dynamic like itsuki and kaede, i like it but it doesn't do much for me. 7/10

Ryomary

Jsjssjsksk i looked the name of mary x ryota's ship on wiki so if it sounds weird it's bc i don't know their ship name and i have looked at the first site google gave me. This ship is hard no, mainly bc ryota is very bland and i consider mary a lesbian (i read that she is a canon lesbian but idk if it's confirmed by the author, let's say lesbian mary is just my hc) so shipping her with men feels like a hate crime to me, mary is for the girls only, 4/10.

Tsumary

They are kind of cute together right ? I think they're adorable, tsuzura is mary's first love and i think that someone like her would make mary very happy. I still haven't finished kkg twin, so my opinion on tsuzura is incompleted and it might change, i don't hate her but i find her character a little basic/boring so even though this ship is cute it doesn't make me fall in love with them. 7/10 bc probably also tsuzura had feelings for mary and they have a healthy dynamic, you can see they love each other.

Midasaya

I enjoy this crackship, i know that they both like different people but i headcanon that they were together during middle school or that midari had at least a small crush on sayaka during that time, before kirari came to hyakkaou i like to think that they explored their sexuality together so midari was probably sayaka's first kiss, her first date, etc, so they would have history together and we also see that midari knows sayaka bc her character is described through her pov during tower of doors. I find this ship pretty funny bc sayaka is always so serious and composed and midari is a ball of chaos. 7/10

Yumesaya

This is another crackship i don't mind and find hilarious, yeah i'm a huge kirasaya stan but i'm also a multishipper and sayaka deserves all the girls in the world, so the more the merrier. I like to think this ship as one sided love in which yumeko sort of pines after sayaka and i think it would be very interesting to see kirari being jeaulous that sayaka is getting yumeko's attention. We saw jeaulous/protective sayaka in kakegurui, but i would also like to see how kirari reacts when someone tries to take sayaka away from her, it would be really interesting. Obv this would create some tension between kirasaya and also between kirari and yumeko, almost a sort of love triangle dynamic. My opinion is that yumeko is just too unstable to settle down, also they both probably would get bored/lose interest in each other after the heat of the moment. 6/10

Ririsaya

Sorry but i really can't see it happening not even if i squint, but i really enjoy the ririsaya fanfictions and i think those works are pretty great even though i don't ship them very much. It would be interesting if both twins were in love with sayaka and there was some tension/coldness between them for a while bc they liked the same girl (maybe i read too many fanfictions). My headcanon is that both sayaka and ririka had a crush on each other when they first knew each other and for sayaka it was probably pretty confusing bc she already had feelings for kirari. I see them as friends, 7/10

Yumemisaori

Again idk if this is the correct name of the ship, many said that yumemi and saori are a healthier/mentally stable version of kirasaya and i agree. the dynamics are similar bc we have the secratary that is willing to do everything for her boss and the relationship is a little more balanced, i think they would be very cute together, but sadly they had very little interactions and if i could see more of them i would probably ship them even more. I like them 7/10.

Sachiko x Mary

I didn't even find a ship name for this couple, so they must be pretty unpopular, i like both characters and their antagonistic dyanamic is very interesting, but i don't ship them much bc i think mary needs/wants someone who is completely different from sachiko, who wants to make mary her pet and mary is someone who cares very much about her freedom, her indipendence and wants to make her own choices and this completely clashes with sachiko's extremely sadistic and domineering nature. I prefer them as enemies who have some sexual tension or enemies with benefits or one night stand adventure, but nothing more. 5/6 out of 10 bc the only mary ship i really love is meariri and i also like tsuzumary a bit.

Sachiko x Mikura

This is probably one of the most unhealthy relationships in kakegurui, but i kinda like it. Their dyanmic is pretty much vertical with sachiko who has all the power and makes mikuro do everything she wants and mikura who is completely obsessed and devoted to sachiko (my opinion is that she developed a sort of stockholm syndrome towards sachiko). I think that someone like sachiko could never have genuine romantic relationships bc of her extremely sadistic nature, she sees ppl like toys to break and what she enjoys the most is seeing ppl suffer, so the only compatible person with sachiko is someone extremely masochistic like mikura. Giving them a 6/7 out of 10 bc their interactions are fun/interesting and spice things up.

Rin x Ibara and Yumeko x Kirari

Hard no to both of them, i don't ship incest, yall can do what you want but personally it's a huge no for me. When i first started watching the anime at the beginning i thought yumeko and kirari had some sort of tension and could have been enemies to lovers (lmaoo i was so naive), but then i discovered they were cousins and i saw more kirasaya interactions so i got completely turned off by this ship. 3/10 to both of these ships.

Sachiko x Sakura

Now this ship is very sexy, idk why i like it but i do, yes i don't see sachiko with anyone besides mikura, but this pairing is not bad at all, even though it's a crackship. I think they would be rivals with benefits and would argue a lot and then make out/have hot sex. 7/10 (maybe it's too high but since these are just my opinions i won't be objective)

Mary x kirari

Uhm is there really someone out there who ships them ? Yeah i thought they had some sexual tension in s1 with that tea scene, but it's a no from me, i don't like it and i don't think they're compatible in any way, i can't see kirari with anyone who isn't sayaka. 4/10

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hacawijo · 3 years

Text

The Most Story/Technical/Writing-related Reasons I Think Elriel Will Happen

AND Why Comparing Elain/Azriel to Nesryn/Chaol doesn’t make a ton of sense

Chaol and Nesryn, in the Throne of Glass series, did not have the stakes and chemistry set up by the story for the switch to Chaorene and Nestaq to not make sense. See reblogged post below from @mardereads19 for my inspiration - such a concise and helpful layout!!!! Thank you! And thank you to the poster who inspired them 🤪😌

Chaol and Nesryn-

— Stands to Gain —

— their individual happiness in romantic love/a successful relationship with someone in whom they’ve indicated romantic interest.

— for Chaol - the opportunity to move on from Aelin and be happy without her

— for Nesryn - aside from finding happiness re: above, nesryn doesn’t stand to gain anything more specific from their relationship (as far as we know up until the next book - we don’t know enough about her for her personal stakes to be significant to us)

— Obstacles —

— Chaol’s self-blame and self-loathing

— Chaol’s still healing heart after Aelin (but, NOT the possibility of Chaol and Aelin re-entering into a romantic relationship)

— the stress of their duties and responsibilities (I.e. needing to focus on getting support for the war with the valg)

— Overarching Consequences —

there is nothing about the two of them being together that will have overreaching negative side effects on many other people as of the end of the prior novel.

——

NOW, Chaol and Yrene - their stakes and consequences did need to be mapped out over one book, so we’ll talk about them as of the first 2/3rds of the book or so, bearing in mind that that is much less time to build effective stakes for a couple (not that it’s not doable, but the stakes are automatically less for the audiences if they can go through the initiation and resolution in one book).

Except they had the added help of four prior books with Chaol as a main POV character - thus his character’s personal stakes are higher.

— Stands to Gain —

— Chaol - his physical, emotional, and mental healing are directly rooted in his relationship with Yrene. He stands to lose any shred of hope, health, closure, and possibility of leg mobility that he has left. (We have absolute confirmation of this from Chaol’s direct POV)

— Yrene - the opportunity to come to terms with her anger and sorrow over the loss of her mother and country by opening up to a man who was not personally responsible for any of it but who was intrinsically linked to those who were (a personal stake we have absolute confirmation of from Yrene’s POV in the book)

— For Both - the chance to have a loving, successful relationship and life together with someone they love.

— Obstacles —

— Yrene’s (not unreasonable) prejudice against Adarlan

— Chaol’s self-blame, self-loathing, and general belief that he can’t and shouldn’t be happy. And his frustration with his legs and recovery process.

— Prince Kashin’s interest in and proposal to Yerene; as well as Yrene’s relationship with Hasar and the rest of the royal family.

— Chaol’s relationship with and obligation to Nesryn.

— The physical distance between their regular homes and duties and their commitment to those duties as taking priority over everything else.

— Overarching Consequences —

- the loss of Kashin’s support and thus the loss of the empire’s military and aid and support in the war with the Valg.

SO, as you can see, Yrene and Chaol’s relationship ultimately had more for them to gain, overcome, and risk, thanks to Sarah’s writing, but also thanks to Nesryn and Chaol as characters and in their very specific circumstances. If Chaol and Aelin had still been a viable relationship by the start of this book, it would have been VERY difficult to establish a successful HEA between Chaol and Yrene.

NOW, let’s compare Elriel, Elucien, and Gwynriel- I think you’ll find that Elriel has the highest stakes, followed by Elucien, and then Gwynriel. AGAIN, this is not to say that those stakes couldn’t be altered over the course of the next book (though POV confirmations will probably inform this a lot), but it would take much more work and page acreage.

Elriel:

— Stands to Gain —

- For both - personal happiness in a loving and successful relationship with someone they love or are at least deeply attracted to/interested in as confirmed by Azriel’s POV chapter and Elain’s arousal and supported by 3.5 books worth of (let’s call it) circumstantial evidence 🙃

- Azriel - the chance to move on from Mor and feelings of loneliness and lack of self-worth he’s had for 500 years. (Hopefully - we have partial confirmation of this gain given scattered evidence from Azriel’s POV chapter and that cassian and others have noticed that Azriel doesn’t pine after mor as much/at all anymore and in moments in the text where Elain has specifically not recoiled from him/judged him - I.e. seeing his scarred hands)

- Elain - the chance to find a partner she loves and would choose and who loves and accepts her for who she is now and will be in the future (hopefully - we have partial confirmation of this gain given the evidence that she chose to pursue romantic/sexual physical touch with Azriel in that moment in the bonus chapter and the moments where it has been explicitly stated that Azriel sees Elain/notices things about her that others don’t)

- For both (but moreso for Azriel than Elain) - the chance to be with someone who will not take them away from their home and will in fact connect them even more with their brothers/sisters, current loved ones, and friends.

— Obstacles —

- Elain’s mating bond with another male that is not (yet) broken

- Her bond with a male who is essential to the continued safety and peace of the night court/their home and who is close with Feyre, and who is a genuinely good person who doesn’t deserve to be hurt.

- Rhys, his high lord and superior, forbidding Azriel from spending time with Elain.

- the remnants of Azriel’s feelings for Mor and Elain’s feelings for Graysen.

- Azriel’s belief in his lack of worthiness for Elain (see: Bonus Chapter POV)

- Azriel’s work as spymaster as a priority and the dangers both he and Elain face as a powerful Illyrian with a dangerous job and a Made female high fae who can wield/access the cauldron and related objects, who sees the future, and whose existence is known by malevolent forces.

- Potential misunderstanding around Azriel regifting Elain’s necklace to Gwyn.

— Overarching Consequences —

- Blood duel - the potential death of Azriel and/or Lucien in a duel put forth either by Lucien or forced by his not actual father.

- the potential loss of support from the spring court, the day court and/or the band of exiles as well as the potential end of a shaky neutrality with the autumn court and secret alliance with Eris. All of which could lead to war and the deaths of everyone in the night court.

Elucien -

— Stands to Gain —

- For both - personal happiness in a loving and successful relationship with someone they love. (And this is generously assuming mutual interest of which we truly do not have confirmation)

- For Elain - relief from her loneliness/ feeling of being unseen (hopefully - see above parenthetical)

- For Lucien - relief from his loneliness/feeling of being unappreciated (hopefully - see above parenthetical)

- A successful mating bond for both of them

— Obstacles —

- Elain’s now-confirmed sexual/potentially romantic feelings for Azriel

- Elain’s residual feelings for Graysen

- Lucien’s potential feelings for Vassa

- Current physical distance of the places they call home.

- Displayed lack of chemistry/mutual interest/trust/effective communication/understanding

— Consequences —

- Maybe violence between Lucien and Azriel but that seems much less likely than in the case of Elriel.

Gwynriel

— Stands to Gain —

- For both - personal happiness in a loving and successful relationship with someone they love. (And this is generously assuming mutual interest of which we truly do not have confirmation)

- Azriel - the chance to move on from Mor and feelings of loneliness and lack of self-worth he’s had for 500 years (hopefully- not much evidence one way or another that he would gain this from a relationship with Gwyn (one way or another!! Not saying a relationship with Gwyn COULDN’T help him gain those things))

- Gwyn - the chance to move on from her past trauma and be happy with someone who appreciates her and whom she implicitly trusts (hopefully - not much evidence one way or another - see above)

— Obstacles —

- Azriel’s residual feelings for Mor

- Azriel’s current and enflamed feelings for Elain and their reciprocation

- Gwyn’s lack of interest in romantic companionship either because she’s not interested in it or because of her trauma (we have no confirmation from the text that Gwyn even wants a romantic relationship - let alone the reasons she may or may not have for the answer to that question)

- HALF OBSTACLE - Azriel’s potential belief in his lack of worthiness for a romantic relationship with anyone (I’m calling this a half-obstacle because we don’t actually have confirmation that Azriel believes he is unworthy of anyone and/or Gwyn - we only have confirmation that he believes himself unworthy of touching Elain and the perspective of others that he believes he doesn’t deserve Mor)

— Overarching Consequences —

- A potential fracture in Azriel’s relationship with someone who does not want to see Elain hurt (and even this loses teeth because Nesta is the most likely person to turn on Azriel for this and she loves Gwyn just about as much as she loves Elain, so it would be very difficult for her to assert a position either way) ALSO, this consequence isn’t relevant to Elriel because, as of now, we do not have confirmation that Gwyn even has feelings for Azriel so there’s no saying she would be heartbroken if he entered into a relationship with Elain, and certainly it would not be the same level of distress as it would be for Elain since Elain and Azriel have already declared interest in each other.

Alrighty, so, this is not a 100% reassurance of anything, but it’s important to think about plot and the work Sarah will have to do over 700 pages. If Gwynriel is endgame, she will need to address all of the gains and obstacles around Elriel (because it has been established throughout the books and confirmed as a relationship by the bonus chapter) and THEN build larger gains and more dramatic obstacles and consequences for Gwynriel that rival Elriel in emotional and world stakes, and THEN overcome those obstacles in a way that is satisfying and that leads to satisfying gains for the characters.

For an Elriel book, however, most of the gains have already been established by previous books and would thus not require as much development and the obstacles have already been established and could be addressed immediately (as in they would not need to be further outlined).

That’s a lot less stuff to get done in the same amount of book. One thing that could help Gwynriel in this case is if they had an added subplot in another book that actually comes before the Elain/Azriel/Lucien resolution (I.e. a book about Mor) and a lot of work was done there first as well as in the main plot book. That would still take a lot more emotional work for the characters and reader than to pursue and resolve Elriel.

The reason it was different for Chaol and Yrene is that there was not a particularly well-established relationship/ship story for Nesryn and Chaol as much as there is for Elain and Azriel (tbh, Chaol’s relationship with Aelin was probably a deeper emotional obstacle in his relationship with Yrene) AND we had already had 4 books of POV character development for Chaol. Whether you liked him or not, we had spent a lot of time with his character and he was one of the first three main characters in the series - we knew a lot about him.

On the other hand, Azriel has only had one bonus POV chapter (the rest of what we know about him being second- or third-hand through the perspective of other characters) and he will have had about 3.5 books of development before his starring book (unless his book is not next) and then it was only as a side character. The same can be said for Elain, though without the bonus POV chapter and with a bit more book-mileage for us to go on. We only have one book of side character development for Gwyn (though it is perhaps more significant than the average of Az and Elain’s 2nd- and 3rd- degree perceptions from other characters as Az and Elain spend a lot of time in the other books as tertiary characters (Mor or Rhys is to Feyre what Gwyn is to Nesta, Elain or Azriel is to Feyre what Elain or Azriel is to Nesta).

So, total, as readers we do ultimately have a little more stake in Elain and Azriel as individual characters and combined (based on length of establishment in the series and level of involvement in the series) than we do in Azriel and Gwyn combined. But more than either of those couples, we had stake in Chaol and Yrene because, again, we’d been with Chaol as a main POV character for 4 prior books, and Yrene is a POV character in the book in question. It is definitely possible that Gwyn will at least also become a POV character for the next book/books, but there is not as much evidence to support that as there is to support that Elain will become a POV character (given what Sarah has said in lives, Elain’s establishment as a character and the fulfillment of the three sisters’ POVs, the Feyre bonus chapter’s focus on Elain, Elain’s totally unresolved role in Azriel’s bonus chapter, and the general lack of resolution for all of her character’s secondary and tertiary growth in ACOSF as opposed to the amount of closure with which Gwyn finishes the book).

As for Elucien, even more work would need to be done to develop their stakes in each other than in Gwynriel, because from what we can possibly know based on text and secondary and tertiary perspectives of their relationship they are actually DISINCLINED toward each other. At least Azriel and Gwyn have an established, positive rapport.

So these are the real technical, plot-y reasons that I believe the Elriel situation is very different from the Chaol&Nesryn situation, and much more likely to happen than Elucien and/or Gwynriel. Wow this is long, but I hope it reassures some of you and creates opportunities for respectful thought and discussion between shippers!

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bibuckbuckley · 3 years

Note

I guess you can use this as a prompt if you’d like but also I’m just curious. How would you like for them to get together?

This is such a great question thank you! I decided to just write my thoughts instead of making it a prompt bc there's actually a lot of different ways that I wouldn't mind it to go/would want them to do. So if I wrote if it'd be just one of thos ideas (but I still might write it).

But I will start with that I definitely want them to have at least some inkling of feelings from either Eddie or Buck or even both in the finale. Because, if the writers really are gonna give us a romantic buddie storyline, I really don't see how they won't have at least a hint, even if it's one of those 'saying it saying it things'. However, since it's what I personally would want (while I try to maintain a more realistic approach lol) I would love to see somewhat of a confirmation that both have feelings for each other, even if it is a 'saying it without saying it'.

And then s5 we get mutual pining era.

Okay, so before I go any further I wanna point out a scenario that my sister mentioned even before last ep aired. I know this won't happen, but I would just love if we get some good friends to lovers angsty drama i.e. like what they did with caskett in Castle. Where maybe when Buck is saving Eddie one of them confess in the heat of the moment. Like the confession doesn't even have to be big, it could just be an 'I love you' that some people could still interrupt as them 'being bros who love each other as bros'. BUT THEN after Eddie is okay, either a) Eddie asks if he or Buck said anything and Buck tell him 'no' (you know like a liar) or b) where Buck asks Eddie if he remembers anything and Eddie says 'no' (also like a liar). And then later Buck talks to Taylor and Taylor mentions how she and him could never work, not when he has feelings for someone else and then maybe tells him "I think the universe came to you a long time ago. You just didn't realize it yet.' She then walks off and leaves him wearing a pikachu face. And then with Eddie, he breaks up with Ana and tells her that she was everything he thought he wanted, was taught to want, but that he needs to reevaluate himself. And then she maybe says something like "I hope you find what you're looking for. Though I feel like you might've already have" and he does not have the pikachu face. Instead he just gives her a small smile and nods. And then season 5 we get the drama of the mutual pining and one of them keeping the secret about the love confession bc they have to self reflect and afraid of losing what they have and worrying what the other would think and blah blah classic fic angst that I can see them put in the show since they've done so many fic tropes anyways.

But again I do not see that angsty drama happening but I would love to see IG. I do would like for them to still have those scenes with Ana and Taylor to help confirm the mutual pining.

And with Eddie, I can really see him getting shot be his epiphany moment. Whether it's him realizing that he's in love with Buck, or that he already had somewhat a knowledge of having feelings for his best friend but pushed them aside. But either way I can really see this epiphany where he realizes that he can't hide himself anymore and breaks up with Ana. BUT he still just went through a trauma that effected both Buck and Christopher, and I would like for that to trigger his PTSD. So I would love for him to want to do something about his feelings for Buck but still needs time to focus on himself. Meanwhile Buck is there with them every step of the way. (Roommates era while Buck helps Eddie anyone??)

And on Buck's side, I would want him to maybe just realize his feelings so he's been digesting them for a few months and kinda freaking out about it. But at the same time there are things in canon that showed that maybe he was aware. Idk I feel like it could go either way and either way can see his current journey being that he also needs to revaulate himself and maybe also trying to see if Eddie feels the same way.

And in the meantime he helps with Eddie deal with his PTSD and they both kinds work in healing together and Chris as well. And if that's the case, then I would love for his they get together is a scene similar to the Kitchen Scene™ where they talk about the latest things go on in their life it's all very domestic while they're doing dishes or something and then Eddie getting shot is mentioned and that leads to them finally opening up and then rush into a kiss.

Or, maybe bc of still dealing with the trauma they kinda explode and argue in the kitchen which leads to one of them shouting "Because I love you!" Which immediately silences the other as they ask in a bewildered voice. If it's Buck who says it then I can see him try to retract it in a "you know as a bro" kinda way (of course he's not gonna actually say that but it's the vibe) but Eddie interrupts him and goes to kiss him. But if it's Eddie who shouts it I would want him to either be silent or be silent and then holds his head high and says, "You heard me". And then Buck proceeds to kiss him.

Oh! Another thing I would love is Buck's realization that he has feelings for Eddie makes him realize that he's not as straight as he thought and since he doesn't want to do anything that could risk losing Eddie (especially him getting shot my goodness) I would love if it s5 he kinda explores his sexuality a bit and starts dating Ravi. And we get jealous Eddie which leads to them probably arguing in the kitchen and a love confession.

Either way I want them to get together in the kitchen. It's a mighty need.

So yeah, as I said, there's so many ways that I would want it to go (some less realistic than others lol). But, my main thing is I would just love some kind of feelings confirmation or even hints of it in the finale. And for me I would personally want it for both of them bc there's been lead up for both of them having a realization. And then I would just love to see the Mutual Pining Galore while they help each other through the traumas. And then us watching and seeing how long these two idiots in love can keep their feelings in.

And none of none of these are probably that realistic, but tbh no how they do it, if they actually make Buddie canon (and endgame) then I would freaking love it with all of my heart (unless it's something that's messed up or idk which I highly HIGHLY doubt).

But yeah here's to whatever the future hopefully holds!

Thanks again so much for the ask :)

#buddie #kj gets an ask #this got super long oops #hope this makes sense I've been sick all day s so I'm s lil out ofit #udontfuckangie

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shoutingdeku · 3 years

Text

How to learn you’re in love with your best friend and then immediately misunderstand it

By Todoroki Shouto (with Kaminari Denki’s help)

warning: there’s some sexual talk here because i wanted to explore just how oblivious todoroki could be, even as a grown ass adult, about his feelings and how to interpret some quite frankly obvious things (such as bros dont wanna fuck their bros, todoroki you dumb bitch)

“But, here’s the thing!” Kaminari’s voice carries over their group with electrifying precision. Even those who aren’t paying attention turn to look over at him. He’s suddenly the center of attention of the group, although his attention is still focused on Bakugou in front of him.

“What,” Bakugou grumbles, eyes squinted.

“That is absolute no way of truly knowing if he’s your true bro, Bakubro.” Kaminari has a way of looking from over the top of his glasses that makes his eyes look mischievous, even if he still smiles like they are middle schoolers with crushes on their teachers.

Distantly, it makes Todoroki remember of all the times Kaminari, along with Sero and sometimes Kirishima, bothered him about his school crushes and who of their friends was going to turn into the hottest girl. Up close, it just reminds Todoroki once more why he never replied to their constant questioning. Why he still doesn’t. Kaminari is a storm brewing and Todoroki is glad he isn’t right in the middle of it.

Bakugou, on the other hand, is famous for always jumping head first and caution later.

“You think me and Kirishima having matching tattoos isn’t enough proof I tolerate him?” Bakugou asks, his jaw so clenched it is a wonder he can even form words.

“No,” Kaminari replies, still looking from above his glasses, still smiling innocently.

Beside Bakugou, Kirishima protests at Kaminari at the same time he holds Bakugou back from getting up from his chair. Around them, a couple of patrons look back at their antics, reticent from the aggressive stance Bakugou always gives.

“Hey, man, not cool,” Kirishima starts. It could either be a reply to Kaminari or Bakugou, but Todoroki isn’t sure anymore. Possibly both.

“No, listen,” Kaminari straightens up, hands thrown behind his back in a careless move. It is familiar enough that it works its magic and deflates Bakugou tension. He falls back against Kirishima’s hands holding back his arm. “The true test of friendship,” a huff of air escapes his mouth, and if his antics aren’t proof enough he isn’t up to no good, that moment alone is, “is knowing exactly which position you’d fuck your bro in.”

Chaos. Sero lets out a laugh so loud that a group of people from a couple tables away turn and stare at them. Kirishima lets go of Bakugou’s arm so quickly that it seems he’s on fire. Considering the color of Bakugou’s cheeks, it’s a possibility. They match Kirishima’s own as well.

Besides Kaminari, Shinsou groans and hides his face in his hands. Iida is gesticulating with his hands so hard there’s a possibility he invented a new form of sign language. In between hand chops and glass pushes, he lectures their group about appropriate language and loud noises in public spaces, nevermind that his irresolute commentary only adds to the overall noise of Sero’s and Kaminari’s laughter, as well as Bakugou’s renewed screaming.

Shouto is ready to reply, at least to try and calm Iida down, when the words actually register in his brain. He frowns.

They are all young adults. Sex isn’t anything shameful to hide at or an unowable fantasy land as it was when they were teenagers. Shouto has had his experience before, but so far as he knows, nothing compared to Kaminari.

Of course, Kaminari does have a tendency to extrapolate his tales and Todoroki is well aware. He is also well aware that one too many tales were too detailed not to be real.

So that brings the second point: not only is Kaminari experienced, but he’s also had his moments of true brilliance. Todoroki would never disregard one of his ideas without at least considering it.

He tunes everyone out and rolls with the idea. There’s nothing particularly dirty about the thought itself, but rather a mix between intimacy and knowledge of their group of friends.

Take Sero, for example. It is quite obvious he would be into bondage. Not only has Todoroki noticed once what suspiciously looked like friction burns on his wrists before, but the one time they needed help to knot a rope for Kirishima’s surprise birthday party, Sero stepped in like a professional. So. Sero likes bondage. Todoroki can’t think of much of anything besides that. It makes sense considering they aren’t that close.

Then comes Kaminari. All Todoroki’s brain can come up with is “there would be a lot of laughter and possibly a lot of experimenting”. Maybe a bit of hair pulling. Nothing that would cement their friend as realness through the sex bonds of brotherhood.

Shinsou would possibly also involve bondage. Possibly dirty talk. He looks sombre and mild, but there’s absolutely nothing mild about him. Not when he’s tried so hard all his life to get past his looks and history to get wherever he set his mind to, using his voice and wits and hard work whenever necessary.

Kirishima looks like vanilla and bitey and too much up Bakugou’s alley for Todoroki to ever even consider it. Even looking at him right now, calming down Bakugou and reluctantly laughing at Kaminari’s bragging seems too much like something he wouldn’t try to meddle with. There was once a time Todoroki wasn’t aware of their oblivious, mutual pining, but Uraraka’s determination and Izuku’s flawless logic proved bullet point by bullet point that the two of them are pining for each other for quite some time now. Too long a time, if Todoroki could say. Two years later and Todoroki can still see the brightness of both Uraraka’s and Midoriya’s eyes as they explained what had never before even crossed his mind as if it was the most obvious truth of the planet. Todoroki wonders what else could he be missing without an impromptu presentation from his friends.

Lastly, there is Iida and Bakugou themselves.

Iida is definitely too easy. Either proper, careful, wholesome sex, or too kinky and wild to process with a side of controlling. Todoroki is too afraid to even consider which position he’d prefer.

And Bakugou is too easy to pinpoint. Ass up and shoving his face down as the actual brat he is.

Todoroki remembers one too many times Bakugou had grumbled they weren’t friends, right before acting like a long-time friend would. It kind of unsettles Todoroki to realize that Kaminari’s proposal seems to be true, when out of all the people on the table Bakugou is the one he can pinpoint exactly how he’d fuck.

He opens his mouth to explain his findings when the chair beside him is pulled back and Midoriya sits on it again.

“Sorry,” he whispers, “I found a colleague on another table over there and took my time before getting back. What are they arguing about? All I could hear was Sero’s laughter and Bakugou’s screams, so, you know, the usual.”

And just like that, Todoroki’s world turns.

There is nothing out of the ordinary in Midoriya’s looks. It is the same clothes he had come in with, it is the same sheepish smile he always gives when he wants to understand something he doesn’t know yet. The same shine is his green eyes, the same freckles. Nothing out of place from the many years they sat side by side and that Todoroki turned to look at him.

It is, however, a very new feeling of looking into his friend’s eyes and knowing, without a doubt, that you’d beg him to ride you harder while you’re sitting in his office chair, arms bound behind your back and neck strained up to ask for more kisses, or bites, or anything he’s willing to give.

It is a very new knowledge that he would, without a doubt, try any and all positions with Izuku. Twice. Just so they’re sure which one is the best one yet. And somehow he still thinks having Izuku on top would be his favorite one. Because that would be the best way to admire his best friend.

He turns to Kaminari with a new understanding in his face and the appreciation of the surprising genius of his friend.

“By your logic then it means Midoriya is indeed my best friend. I guess it makes sense. Thank you for sharing, Kaminari-san.”

Todoroki doesn’t quite understand why suddenly the whole table is screaming or laughing at him, but he guesses it just confirms there’s no friend for him like Midoriya.

#i'm sorry this is so dumb but i couldn't stop seeing this is my head and i needed to write it down somewhere #tododeku #todoizu #tddk #i mean let's be real the chances of me actually writing this whole fic is like #29% on a good die #*day but this typo was too good to let it pass #also this is unbeated i just wanted to vomit write it and give birth to see if my writing demon left me alone #i live for oblivious todoroki with the most insane conclusions to ordinary stuff #i mean who hasnt thought about how they would raw their friends right todoroki #you dumbshit #i love u icyhot #also kaminari is my spirit animal and i will stand by all his decisions ever

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lochrannn · 3 years

Link

Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)

Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Allison Hargreeves; Klaus Hargreeves; Hargreeves Siblings (background)

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining; Emotional H/C

Chapter 7/9

Leaving his apartment actually helps.

Diego’s not sure how long he’s been out but he thinks he spent at least thirty minutes at an all out run and he’s out of breath and his muscles are burning pleasingly, but he feels a lot more settled and about ready for sleep as he jogs back towards his bed.

He’s just passing a children’s playground when he spots a figure through the chain link fence sitting on one of the swings, gently swaying back and forth.

“Fuck!” he says out loud and then makes his way over.

“Oh hey!” says Lila with mild enthusiasm when she finally looks up at him as he’s just arriving right in front of her.

Diego’s heart is beating in his throat at the realization that she didn’t even notice him approaching and he could have been anybody. This may not be an incredibly dangerous neighborhood, but it is three in the morning, she’s a woman sitting all on her own in a dark and secluded playground, and he doesn’t actually need to be a detective to work out that she’s completely shitfaced.

Diego tries to reign in the anger that is usually his initial response to intense worry and fear. She’s a grown woman and she’s entitled to make her own bad decisions, and he’s overstepped on this sort of thing with her before, but when she just slowly blinks at him and then looks back down at the bottle of champagne that she’s loosely holding in the hand that’s not gripping on to the swing’s chain, barely keeping herself upright, Diego asks, in a tone that’s meant to be even but comes out pretty tetchy even to his own ears, “What are you doing out here?”

“Oh, you know, I got married today… just celebrating on my own, I guess,” Lila answers, lifting her bottle a little in explanation, but not looking up at him again. She’s doing a remarkable job of not slurring her words, he’ll give her that, but they do come out a little too slowly, far too deliberate, which confirms his suspicion that she is definitely pretty drunk.

“Uh huh…” Diego responds. He’s completely uncertain of what to make of the mood she’s in. The fact that her response to getting married to him is to completely numb herself with champagne certainly gives him pause, but he swallows down the lump in his throat, now’s not the time to wallow, and instead he asks, “D’you think you might wanna do that back home instead of out here in a fucking playground?”

Lila looks up at him with an odd clarity to her for a second before she takes a swig from her mostly empty bottle and says, “Nah, I’m good!”

Diego can’t suppress the noise of frustration that escapes him. “Lila! I’m not leaving you here all on your own in the middle of the god forsaken night! You’re gonna get robbed or murdered and then they’re gonna suspect me of marrying and then killing you for your money, and I really can’t afford to go to jail right now, so come the fuck back home with me!”

“Pfff, stop being so overdramatic, Diego, I’m not going to get murdered. And I’m not going anywhere in these heels, I tell you, I’ll just sleep here on this swing!” She closes her eyes and then wobbles precariously as she presses her face against the chain holding one side of the swing up.

Diego is very rapidly losing what is left of his patience.

“Also, may I point out,” Lila mumbles in her drowsy state, “that you did in fact marry me for my money— eeeeeeh!” she squeals, as Diego lifts her up – one arm behind her shoulders, the other behind her knees. Her bottle clatters to the ground and starts spilling the remaining champagne, and somewhere at the back of his brain Diego thinks he probably shouldn’t leave it lying around on a playground, but at the same time he’s also dealing with an armful of slightly flailing, very indignant fake wife (he knows intellectually that she’s not his fake wife, but his actual wife, but Diego can’t think too hard about that, because it causes all sorts of tumultuous feelings to twist in his gut).

Though Lila immediately wrapps her arms around his neck, she’s clearly not particularly pleased because she begins to argue as Diego starts making his way out of the playground, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m taking you home,” Diego growls, trudging along the sidewalk, a little amazed at how easy Lila is to carry. She’s almost larger than life so much of the time and even when they’d slept together, she gave as good as she got, Diego has up until this moment forgotten just how tiny she is, and his heart almost stops again at how vulnerable she was, what could have happened to her if he hadn’t come across her completely by accident. Diego sucks in a breath to try and calm the sudden wash of useless fear.

“That’s quite presumptuous!” Lila retorts, and Diego doesn’t need to look at her to know there’s an annoyed line between her eyebrows. In fact, he doesn’t think he can even look at her right now, not with the way her face is currently only inches away from his.

“We’re literally fucking married, Lila!” he scoffs. He’s not sure why he says it, but Diego thinks he might be going slightly insane with the whole situation.

“And you think that entitles you to something, now?” Lila asks in genuine disbelief and Diego suddenly feels way too exhausted for this conversation. “Yeah, I think it entitles me to making sure you don’t die of hypothermia, alcohol poisoning, or murder!”

There’s a long pause and then Lila grumbles, “Whatever,” and leans against his shoulder, apparently also overcome by tiredness.

And Diego is overwhelmed at how quickly his anger at her reckless and bratty behavior dissipates and is replaced with a much sharper feeling that digs its way almost painfully into his chest, when Lila tucks her face into the crook of his neck and promptly falls asleep.

Lila is almost completely still as he carries her back home and it gives his overwrought and exhausted brain time to contemplate how unhappy she seems to be with the situation and how that makes him feel in turn, and on top of that he even manages to feel a little guilty about the fact that the feeling of her warmth and weight against him does significantly settle his nerves, despite himself.

Diego’s always known that he’s not great with feelings. He usually feels too much of them and is never quite able to tell the people around him what that means and so he’s gotten quite used to not doing so. And even though earlier he contemplated telling Lilla, he realizes he can’t add another burden to the pile of shit she’s dealing with, especially not while she’s struggling to stay in the country of her choice and has to rely on him for her only solution.

Carrying Lila becomes a little bit difficult when Diego tries to unlock the front door. He ends up jostling her, attempting to wiggle the key into the lock with the hand that’s also holding on to her knees and Lila stirs but doesn’t wake fully, just snuffles adorably and cuddles closer to him, arms tightening in some kind of reflex to stop herself from falling.

Diego tries to concentrate on anything else, getting the door open, not slamming it, when closing it, because his neighbors would probably not appreciate the noise in the early hours of the morning, and then he makes his way straight towards her room so he can put her down on her bed.

He sets her down gently and then struggles to find the will to pull her arms away from his neck so for only a moment he allows himself to sit down on the bed with her and very gently put his arms around her in a hug. He’s not sure whether it’s to comfort Lila or himself.

“See, had no trouble getting home!” Lila mumbles into his neck and Diego scoffs at that, but it’s more out of genuine amusement than derision and he gives her one last squeeze before letting go and laying her against the bed gently. This time around Lila does let go and immediately buries her face into the pillow, and though her face scrunches up and he knows it’s only a matter of minutes before she’ll start drooling onto the covers with the way her mouth is half open, he can’t help thinking that she does look absolutely breathtaking.

Diego makes sure that her short red dress hasn’t ridden up her thigh indecently high and then gets to work on her sandals. Once he’s got them off, he finds a blanket on a small armchair in the corner of the room and covers Lila with it as she’s lying on top of her sheets and is fast asleep again, so he doesn’t want to wake her.

When he leaves her to it and closes the door behind him with a soft click, hoping to at least get a couple of hours of sleep himself before he has to get up for work later in the morning again, Diego lets out a long breath. He tries to convince himself that maybe it will take a few weeks, but he can get over this, get over Lila, but a niggling voice at the back of his mind points out that he’s never felt a sense of devotion for anyone quite like this before and that he is quite certainly in much bigger trouble than he’s letting himself believe.

Lila gets the hangover she deserves after drinking a bottle and a half of champagne, but is, unfortunately, not granted the luxury of forgetting what she got up to.

She remembers her evening and her night in vivid detail but from a perspective of a powerless operator, sitting somewhere in her skull, able to look out of her eyes and watch herself make an absolute nuisance of herself, but unable at the time to do anything about it.

She remembers feeling sorry for herself because she was in this situation in the first place, a thirty year old trust fund baby with no perspective in life, no family to speak of and while other women her age nave their lives together and are getting married and having babies, she just paid her roommate who she also happens to have a pretty bad crush on – no point in trying to kid herself about that anymore – to marry her for a green card. What a fuck up she truly is.

And then, wallowing in her misery as a selfish part of her even felt angry with Diego for just abandoning her on their wedding day – what a silly notion, seeing as this is a business arrangement between the two of them – she went out to buy some dinner for herself and instead brought home two bottles of champagne “to celebrate”, started dancing around to sad music the more intoxicated she got, and in the end feeling like she had to leave the flat or she would go absolutely stir crazy.

She obviously didn’t get very far, and she has no sense of how much time she spent sitting on that swing before Diego came to get her.

Lila feels desperately embarrassed. He must be so annoyed with her and thanking his lucky stars that he’s only married to her for the money and not actually stuck with the a fuck up like her. She could tell he tried to remain civil with her last night, mostly even indulging her, but he was clearly angry and she’d only goaded him further, out of some sense of righteous annoyance of her own. But in hindsight, she can’t blame him, he’s honestly been trying his best with her, gone above and beyond to support her efforts for a visa, and she can’t even keep it together for a single day.

Well, at least he’ll get a break from her, Lila muses as she pulls her cover over her head, trying to block out the little bit of light that’s filtering in through her curtains, because there’s no way she’s going to face him in this state. But once she’s recovered, feels a bit more like a human again, she’ll apologise and make sure he understands just how grateful she is for his help. It’s not his fault she’s developed some distracting feelings for him and he certainly doesn’t deserve her anger and frustration for not reciprocating feelings he knows absolutely nothing about.

And so Lila spends her day in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, half imagining and half dreaming about strong arms holding her close to a solid, warm body, and soft lips pressing gentle kisses to the spot just behind her ear.

A day and a half later they meet in the kitchen and it’s predictably awkward.

Lila tries to apologise for her behaviour but Diego just waves it away, says he understands that she’s having a hard time, and though that’s not quite what she wanted to say and part of her thinks he deserves a real apology, she also doesn’t particularly enjoy reflecting on her own behaviour and jumps at the opportunity to move on when Diego promptly changes the subject.

“I talked to a friend at my gym, Rodriguez. His wife isn’t a citizen either and he gave me some tips for the visa process,” Diego explains.

“Oh yeah?” Lila’s interest is piqued, because she still hasn’t quite worked out what that whole interview thing entails and she’s finally getting an inkling that Diego didn’t actually know much more beyond the fact that there is an interview.

“Yeah! So, he said it’s different for everybody but that he’d talk to his wife and they’d put a list together of the questions they remembered being asked. He said some of them were…” Diego looks down at the counter and starts scraping off an imaginary bit of dirt with his finger nail, “a bit personal… So, uhm, we’re gonna have to prepare for those.”

“I think we already did...” Lila mumbles under her breath.

“What was that?” Diego asks.

“Eh, nothing!” she rushes out, she didn’t actually mean to say that out loud even if he couldn’t hear her. “So, interview, okay, what else?”

“Yeah, uh, Rodriguez said this doesn’t happen too often and it didn’t happen to them, but there is a chance of an agent coming to inspect our apartment unannounced, so I thought maybe we should move some things around. You know, bring some of your things into my room, put some clothes of mine into your closet, just make sure it doesn’t look like we live in separate rooms. We can always say we’re keeping yours for guests,” Diego explains with a shrug.

“Okay, yeah, that sounds sensible,” Lila muses and starts worrying the nail on her thumb between her teeth because despite the fact that Diego seems to have a pretty decent handle on the situation, the whole idea of the interview process is making her nervous.

“You’re not really into this, are you?” Diego asks tentatively, and when Lila looks up at him his expression is one of concern, eyebrows drawn together, he’s lowered his head to try and get closer to level with her, and for a moment the tenderness in his eyes leaves her speechless.

“Yeah, I get it!” he goes on and then smiles slightly, “Hey, what are you doing the day after tomorrow? Are you working?” he asks.

“Uh, no?” Lila answers, hesitating a bit because the sudden change of the subject has her somewhat confused.

“I thought maybe we could take a drive to the shore, bring Ben’s camera and fill the film with some honeymoon photos. It’ll be too cold to go swimming, but the forecast seems like it should be pretty mild and sunny.” Diego suggests and, it seems without thinking, he reaches out and just very gently pulls on her wrist, so she stops biting her nail and instead lets her hand drop uselessly to her side.

“Yeah, okay…” Lila answers. She’s not sure why she’s not that enthusiastic about the idea. It’s not that she thinks she wouldn’t have a great time, in fact she thinks it could be kind of wonderful, spending a day driving to the seaside with Diego and taking a walk along the beach, maybe getting some ice cream. She wonders to herself whether the pang in her belly comes from the fact that actually she’d love a beach date with Diego, only she desperately wishes it wasn’t fake.

#otp: just be gentle #lila pitts #diego hargreeves #dielila #diego x lila #diego/lila #tua #the umbrella academy #fanfic #ongoing fic

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i-call-me-clarence · 4 years

Text

So @ao3commentoftheday suggested people make rec lists during these trying times and I decided to go ahead and jump on the band wagon. Here is a list of 13 Johnlock fics, sorted from shortest to longest. There’s H/C, PWP, Case Fics, PRETEND RELATIONSHIPS, and some pretty dank AU’s.

Okay then, onto the tropes!

(fics listed below)

Caught by Salambo06 (AO3) ( @salambo06fics)

Author’s Summary: A hotel room. They’re here for a case, hadn’t planned to spend the night and ended up sharing a room. No, sharing a bed. Suddenly John is very much aware of his own hand closed around his hard cock and the ragged breathing next to him. Closing his eyes for the briefest second, John dares to turn his head just enough to confirm what he already knows.

Sherlock, on his side, watching him.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1,859

Tags/Warnings: bed sharing, wet dreams, POV John, Masturbation, Frottage, First Time, First Kiss

A PWP that’s scorching hot. ‘Nough said. (BUTOMG it is REALLY hot, beware reading in public yo)

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Paranoia by Ewebie (AO3) ( @ewebie)

Author’s Summary: is a description of the rules of the drinking game Paranoia and also too long to put here! But suffice it to say that this fic involves drinking games at the Yard.

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,789

Tags/Warnings: Tumblr Prompt, Drinking Games, Silly... no smut but building fun and allusions to upcoming rrrwarr

I love fics where the team at the Yard and the boys all get drunk together. Throw in a drinking game and I’m already hooked. This fic was really funny and cheered me up when I was sick with the flu a while back (perfect time to read it again!)

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Coldness/Heat by agirlsname (AO3) ( @agrlsname)

Author’s Summary: The inn is booked up on New Year's Eve. The train home is cancelled because of the snow. The only option is to sleep in the non-heated guest room of a client, and John and Sherlock are freezing.

You know where this is going.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3,790

Tags/Warnings: Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Bedsharing, Sharing Body Heat, Frottage New Year's Eve, Cuddling & Snuggling, Friends to Lovers

THERE IS ONLY ONE BED! AND THEY ARE SO COLD! WHATEVER ARE OUR BOYS TO DO?!?!?! Turn it up to 11 in this amazing PWP, that’s what.

---- Stranded by BeautifulFiction (AO3) ( @the-pen-pot )

Author’s Summary: ‘Do you think we’re less than that – best friends? Or more?’

John’s head pulled back, and the look he received suggested John was seriously wondering how someone so intelligent could be so stupid. ‘Well, definitely not less.’

When stranded on a derelict barge at high tide, John and Sherlock reconsider their friendship.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 5,798

Tags/Warnings: case fic, cuddling for warmth, first kiss

I really liked this fic. It really drew me in with it’s imagery, I could see the scenes as easily as I could see John and Sherlock getting together in this way.

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Azure On Grey by shiplocks_of_love (AO3) ( @shiplocks-of-love )

Author’s Summary: When Sherlock’s transport betrays him and conventional healthcare fails to help, John comes up with an unorthodox solution…

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 8,986

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Medical issues, Kidney Stones, Embarrassing Situations, brief mention of past substance abuse, unorthodox medical treatments, Amusement Parks, Intimacy, hints of romance, Pining John, friends to almost lovers

This fic is a wonderful H/C that features a sick Sherlock who can be exceptionally fragile at times, and a caring Watson. Makes me wish I’d had a John around when I had kidney stones :’(

---- Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder by cypress_tree (AO3) ( @cypress-tree)

Author’s Summary: John helps Sherlock with an experiment: for an entire month, they are not allowed to touch each other and must remain at least one metre apart at all times. Meanwhile, I conduct my own experiment: how much UST can I shove into a single fic?

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10,669

Tags/Warnings: Unresolved Sexual Tension, it's for an experiment John, Resolved Sexual Tension, smut

Sexy, silly, amazing.

---- Chaperones by MissDavis (AO3) ( @missdaviswrites)

Author’s Summary: Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie's class and you won't have to share a room with a stranger?"

"Exactly." Sherlock beamed at him. "Don't worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us."

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 34,115

Tags/Warnings: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Room, Sharing a Bed. Disney World, Parentlock, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss

I’ll just use what I wrote when I bookmarked this lovely fic: I’ve never been more compelled by Disney related things than when I was reading this fic. I’ll never go to Disney World, but I’ll sure as hell read this fic again omg was it good

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The Darkness Within, So Close by shiplocks_of_love (AO3) ( @shiplocks-of-love ) ((I hope @ing you twice doesn’t cause any issues! Sorry in advance. Tumblr confuses me))

Author’s Summary: Alec Hardy and Ellie Miller deal with a new string of murders in Broadchurch. Help comes from an unlikely place as Sherlock Holmes and John Watson travel to West Dorset. But when the new crimes open old wounds and unearth the ghost of Moriarty, it becomes clear the game is not over yet.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 42,312

Tags/Warnings: casefic, Sherlock x Broadchurch crossover fic, Underage Death, Murder, MAJOR spoilers for Broadchurch S1 and S2 and for Sherlock S3, post S3 Sherlock, post S2 Broadchurch, you are MOST welcome to put johnlock glasses on but this is pre-slash okay?, Light Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence

I haven’t actually finished this fic yet, but the characterizations for the characters of both universes are spot on. When Alec Hardy started shouting at the beginning, David Tennant appeared in my room and started reading the fic aloud to me. True story. Also this fic is part of a series, so, like, that’s amazing.

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The Norwood Love Builders by flawedamythyst (AO3) ( Tumblr: https://flawedamythyst.tumblr.com/) ((couldn’t @ you for some reason. Prob, again, because Tumblr makes my brain hurt))

Author’s Summary: Sherlock and John go undercover to solve the murder of Joanna Oldacre, but things are complicated by the many feelings John has been repressing in the wake of Sherlock's faked death and return.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 47,798

Tags/Warnings: case fic, fake/pretend relationship, couples retreat, bed sharing, therapy (for a case...that’s a weird tag but I read this in fic so often so), pining John, UST, First Kiss, getting together

Amazing fic by an amazing writer. I have a weakness for ‘pretend relationship for a case’, especially when it’s filled with pining and ust. So in other words this fic is perfect.

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Bridging the Ravine by SilentAuror (AO3) ( @silentauroriamthereal)

Author’s Summary: Sherlock and John go undercover at Ravine Valley, a therapy centre for same-sex male couples in an investigation into a possible human trafficking ring. As they pose as a couple and fake their way through the therapy sessions for the sake of the case, it quickly becomes difficult to avoid discussing their very real issues. Set roughly nine months after series 4.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 58,887

Tags/Warnings: post-series 4, Romance, Awkwardness galore, fake couple trope, Therapy, sex trafficking ring, First Times, Massages, wet t-shirt contest, Group Therapy, loss of child (past), Bed-sharing

Pretend relationship for a case, and it’s a really good case too! Plus it’s at a couples therapy retreat, I mean, come on!! And the OC’s, don’t even get me started on them, because I won’t be able to stop singing their praises. This fic was sent by the gods through the blood sweat and tears of the extremely talented SilentAuror. You should honestly just go and binge all of their stuff. What else are you gonna do during quarantine? OH! And guess what??? THERE’S A SEQUEL!

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Sensory Science by sussexbound(SamanthaLenore) (AO3) ( @sussexbound)

Author’s Summary: John Watson has been invalided home from Afghanistan and is struggling with anxiety, depression, PTSD and insomnia, when an old friend from med school recommends something that might help: An ASMR YouTube Channel run by a friend.

One session in and John is hooked, not only by the way the ASMR seems to calm him after nightmares, and help him sleep, but also by the mysterious man who runs it.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 80,017

Tags/Warnings: Friends to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, ASMR, first meeting AU, problem drinking, Nightmares, Suicidal Thoughts, Internalized Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Anxiety, Depression, Homophobic Language, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Prostate Massage, Prostate Orgasm, Phone Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Frottage, Coming Untouched, Aborted Blowjobs, Rimming

Amazing fic that really draws you in. Even if ASMR isn’t necessarily your thing, this is still a fantastic read. I mean, it’s by sussexbound, so what else would you expect?

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Rewind by All_I_Need (AO3) ( @the-reading-lemon)

Author’s Summary: About a month before John's wedding, he and Sherlock embark on one last case together: a murder at a remote hotel in the middle of nowhere. A lot can happen in a week. And a lot doesn't. But what if ...?

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 87,594

Tags/Warnings: Pining, Angst, John is an oblivious idiot, all the feels, Rewind - Freeform, what if, Sharing a Bed, Dancing Lessons, literally everyone sees more than John does, Fake/Pretend Relationship

THIS FIC! This fic!! Let me tell you a thing about this fic: it’s amazing! I haven’t finished it completely, but the unique ‘rewind’ effect is something I hadn’t ever seen before. Interesting concept, pretend relationship for a case, hot, hot smut, AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED. What more could you want in a fic, honestly?

---- Out There by DiscordantWords (AO3) ( @discordantwords)

Author’s Summary: FBI Special Agent John Watson, medical doctor and army veteran, is assigned to assist eccentric genius Sherlock Holmes with paranormal investigations on the X-Files project.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 131,695

Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - X-Files Fusion, Slow Burn, UST, No seriously a lot of UST, This is the X files they basically wrote the book on UST, casefic, Case Fic, Government Conspiracy, Aliens, UFOs, Mutants, Pining Sherlock, Pining John, First Kiss, Coma

The X-files/Sherlock crossover I always needed in my life. I think at least a few other Johnlockers out there (ha! Fic title) have watched X-files and thought ‘holy cow this is so John and Sherlock, I need the AU or else I’ll die’. Well look no further! No need to die! Read and watch as all your X-files/Sherlock wishes come true :D

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And that concludes this rec list! There will prob be a part 2 coming out as I’ve got hundreds of fics saved on this pairing. Also stay tuned for fic rec lists for some of my other fav ships! Spirk, Garashir, Hannigram, Bunny/Raffles, and more!!

#johnlock fic rec list #johnlock fic rec #something to read while quarantined #first rec list so #i am excite #also making that banner up there was super fun #johnlock #fanfic #sherlock fan fiction #bbc sherlock #johnlock fic recs

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spideytingle616 · 4 years

Text

Five Months [2]

Part 1 / Masterlist / Part 3

*based on the five stages of grief*

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female reader

Warnings: Angst, death, swearing, possible implications of anxiety, mentions/implications of sexual activity, blood/injury

Description: The first time you touch your soulmate, you’re able to see a glimpse into your future. What happens if your future is also your end?

Chapter Summary: Still best friends and nothing more, you learn this battle isn’t so easy after all. You hope Peter feels it too, but you also hope he doesn’t. At least you have Nationals to keep you busy.

Word Count: 7.7K lol whoops (bold and italics are thoughts)

Month Two, Anger: Love Isn’t a Decathlon Event

As the days of continuing your charade with Peter roll into the next couple of weeks and eventually the next month, you couldn’t help but feel annoyed at this game. The next half of the semester has started, and you couldn’t blame tests for the lull that continued to grow.

But the more irked you became, the bigger the guilt grew in the back of your head. How dare you feel like this, you thought. Putting yourself first seemed far too selfish, but you couldn’t exactly talk to Peter about this, especially when he’s avoiding you whenever possible. Not being able to talk about it was killing you, as if your confrontation at his apartment brought no closure.

As the weeks passed, and the fall breeze brushed through the trees, you’ve had time to think about the facts at hand. You and Peter were soulmates, and though the situation wasn’t ideal, it did confirm your feelings that preceded this chaos.

All the times you caught yourself staring at Peter meant something, and all the times you’d flash a dorky smile at his corny jokes were genuine signs of admiration. You were smitten since you met the boy, and part of you wants to kick yourself for brushing off these moments. Maybe everything could be different if you realized sooner, and your flashback could’ve been something nicer, or something that indicated a forever…

These thoughts have started to cloud your head far more than you would like as your brain was off in another world during class. Your grades aren’t slipping quite yet, but you know they eventually will if you continue to let this distraction get to you more than it already has. The only thing you can do is to simply accept the decision Peter made; it’s his life, after all. Unless miracles exist, you’re stuck being the heartbroken girl.

At this moment, however, you were also the exhausted girl. Today was fitness exam day in gym, and you were stuck on the sweaty mats, forced to do sit-ups for the next few minutes. MJ was your partner per usual, holding your feet to keep you steady. You didn’t really care about your numbers, so you took your time and talked to your friend instead. You were multitasking by watching Peter going up and down on the mat, only pretending to be struggling. Just earlier he got around fifteen sit-ups in the first ten seconds.

Damn spider-powers….

“Okay, so it’s been, what, a month since you and Peter figured out you were soulmates?” MJ asked as you came up. “And to clarify, you two are still just friends?”

You did another sit-up before responding. “Yep, same as when you asked the other day.” And the day before, and the day before…

“Well sorry, but it’s kinda confusing, isn’t it? You two are basically together all the time; you’re just adding boning to the equation.”

You prop your elbows on your knees, stopping to look at MJ with wild eyes.

“Seriously, MJ? You didn’t have to say it like that.” You scoff. “And besides, it’s more complicated than just adding ‘you know what’ to our friendship.”

She laughs at your innocent wording as you fall back down, ready for more dreadful sit-ups.

“You’re such a dork sometimes, which is exactly why you’re perfect for Peter. You even told me that you thought you had feelings for him before you found out. I wouldn’t be so worried about his crime-fighting, if he was going to get seriously hurt, he would’ve by now.”

What?

The coach blows the whistle, indicating for each pair to switch roles. MJ lets go of your feet and takes a seat in front of you. You both knew she wasn’t going to do the sit-ups, avoiding the physical activity most of the time by sitting on the bleachers reading.

“How did you-” You shakily begin, breath trying to steady after the work you’ve just been through.

“You’ve seen all the times he’s up and left? Weren’t you the least suspicious as to why? I mean, it was either Spider-Man or a male escort, so.”

“I’m glad you didn’t go with the latter, then. Ugh, did everyone piece this together before I did? Some best friend I am.” You sigh, rolling your eyes at your stupidity. Peter was never one to keep secrets that easily, yet this still passed your radar.

“I know everyone’s secrets, Y/N. You’re not a bad friend, everyone knows you and Peter are perfect for each other. Except for you, apparently?” MJ raises an eyebrow at you, going back to her original question.

“I mean, I’m still shocked about it, but Peter doesn’t want anything to change. He’s too busy to worry about all this soulmate bullcrap.” You try to excuse. Whether or not you liked the situation, you weren’t going to tell your friend the actual truth, not until Peter is okay with it.

Before MJ had a chance to argue with your comment, you hear a yell. Specifically, one near where Peter and Ned were. All heads snapped toward the source of the sound.

“Peter knows Spider-Man!” Ned says all too excitedly.

“Oh god,” you mumbled softly, squinting your eyes in disbelief. Peter was the same way, mouth agape at his friend’s words.

Fortunately, the claim didn’t expose anything. In fact, it earned the two an invitation to Liz’s party, which wasn’t as fortunate. Jealousy slowly started to creep onto your face as you shifted your stare between the two of them throughout class. Peter likes Liz, and Liz likes Spider-Man. Despite being soulmates, Peter seems to have the stars aligned with someone else. The rest of class somehow sucked even worse than normal.

As you walk with MJ to the locker room, you’re stopped by none other than Liz. How great, you thought. You try your best to keep a pleasant face, but your smile was too tight to be genuine.

“You probably heard earlier, but I was planning on having a party this weekend. I’d love for guys to come too if you want.” Liz invited, her smile as charming as ever.

The offer took you aback. The two of you weren’t very close, so you were surprised she really cared enough to acknowledge you.

“Are you sure, Liz? I mean, we’ve never really talked all that much.”

“Well consider this an opportunity to do just that. I invited the whole decathlon team so this could be a good way to bond before nationals. And besides, I already invited Peter, and you two are super close. It only made sense.”

“Well, we’re not like, that close or anything.” You fumble.

“Oh, come on, it’s totally obvious you guys were made for each other. I bet you two are soulmates and everything.”

R.I.P to Peter’s chances, even Liz thinks you’re meant to be. (Well, Peter never really had a chance with any non-soulmate, but a guy can dream). MJ turns to you and offers a cheeky smirk, waiting for you to reply to Liz. Awkwardness starts to seep into the conversation, much to your dismay.

“That is, a crazy idea. I-I don’t even know where to begin with that. Like, totally not true. At all. Nope. He’s my buddy.” Your mouth feels like it’s full of sand at this point. You wish you could muster up more than that pathetic excuse.

“Huh, I wonder who is then. He’s too cute to still be soulless, you know?”

Your eyes largen as the fake smile cramps your face. So, the attraction is mutual… great. A burning in your chest emerges out of anger. Life really couldn’t go your way lately.

“Yep, totally…” was all you could say. “I should go, you know, change and stuff, but thanks for the invite. I’ll try to come, and, stuff.”

You immediately turned around and headed straight toward the locker room, not even noticing Liz and MJs’ confused faces.

Due to your runoff, you were headed to your next class earlier than usual. As you turned the corner, you body checked into none other than your superhuman soulmate. You put your hands on his chest to prevent an embarrassing fall. Under his sweater and layers, you could still feel how hard his chest was, which wasn’t a surprise considering the view you saw not that long ago.

What felt like minutes, you finally came to your senses and quickly put your hands down and awkwardly crossed them.

“H-hey.” You stuttered.

The most conversation you’ve had lately was during class, and those were just questions about the lecture. You hated that you felt awkward with your best friend.

“Um, sorry. I wasn’t looking” Peter replied, feeling the tension as much as you did.

“No, you’re fine.” You reassured. “Hey, uh, sorry about Ned. That kid is such a blabbermouth sometimes.”

The boy sent an airy laugh. It’s been a long time since you heard him laugh, so even hearing a half-hearted one was enough to make you miss him even more. You could’ve sworn your eyes got misty at that moment.

“No, it’s cool. He knew I want to impress Liz and just went overboard.” Despite Ned knowing you two were soulmates, he still remained loyal to Peter’s wishes of pining over Liz; Talk about an ultimate wingman.

You didn’t dare to mention the fact that Liz called him cute, as you were too selfish to say anything. I have to deal with a soulmate that doesn’t even want me, let me have this.

“I need to print my English essay so I should get going. If you go to Liz’s party, you could maybe hang with Ned and me or something.” Peter offers.

The invite was a surprise considering the past month, but you wanted nothing more than to spend time with him again. Even if it was at a party hosted by his crush and with people you didn’t know, you gladly accepted.

——-

The car ride to Liz’s was awkward, to say the least. Peter was asking for some advice about parties and girls, to which May offered back some words to wisdom. You assumed that she didn’t know anything about you and her nephew, and obviously you weren’t going to be the one to tell her. The fact that Peter wouldn’t even tell his family gave your heart a dull ache. You’ve gotten over the initial pain for the most part, but instances like these still trigger your sensitivity.

When you got inside, all three of you were surprised at the place in front of you. You all knew that Liz had a house outside of New York, but you didn’t imagine it to be so big. Jealousy pangs you once again; Liz Allen just seems to have it all.

“Sup losers,” greeted an uninterested voice.

You all turned to see MJ at the kitchen table eating tortillas straight out of a bag.

“You actually came?” You asked puzzled. “Yeah, I thought you didn’t like parties,” Ned replied, adjusting his fedora. He insisted it made him look cooler.

“Maybe I’m not here and you’re just seeing things. Ever think about that?” Your friend replied, raising her eyebrows in fake revelation.

Both Peter and Ned turned to each other in confusion before looking back at the girl. You rolled your eyes; they never really got MJ’s jokes.

“Well, anyway, I need to talk to my friend here, but you two can go ahead without me.” You told the two boys before grabbing MJ’s wrist and taking her to another room you believe is the dining room.

“Jeez, and I thought I wanted to leave that situation more than you.” MJ joked, not bothering to fight your grip.

“I’m going freaking crazy, dude. Weeks of constant awkward conversation, I almost peed my pants because for some reason he invited me here and I was stupid enough to come.” You rant, eyes wild with absurdity.

“Oh, so now all of a sudden you care?”

You roll your eyes, slightly annoyed that your friend thinks this is a good time for jokes. However, she was right. Up until that point in gym, you were accepting of the fact that Peter wanted to keep a distance and stay friends, though the awkward attitude between you two wasn’t exactly “friendship”. But seeing that he actually intended to have a shot with Liz made you sick to your stomach.

“I just- I don’t get why. Why is he chasing a non-soulmate to begin with? I can be fine with staying friends, but what’s he doing?” Your eyes kept grazing the floor as you complained.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself? It’s not like I have all the answers, though I do know what’s happening seventy percent of the time.”

You sigh, “He’s not going to answer-”

“He’s also not going to answer your questions if you never actually ask him. You clearly don’t like the relationship between you two, so talk to him about it. If he won’t listen, then make him.” MJ quipped, having tried to tell you this how many times. “I think both of you know deep down that you two are the best thing that could happen to each other. But clearly, there’s something else going on, which is why you need to talk to him instead. Figure out how to be together.”

All you can do is stare aimlessly at her. Your mind, like your heart, is going a hundred miles an hour. Perhaps her advice would be different if she knew, but this wasn’t the time to tell her. Not in a chaotic party with Flash chanting “Penis Parker” in the background. Not when Peter himself is an enigma to his soulmate. If you knew more, or knew what to do, then maybe MJ could offer more for both your sakes. But it’s not your secret to tell. Even if you’re transparent to MJ, it’s not your place to say something to ruin your best friend’s life, especially considering the fragility of it.

MJ widens her eyes and tilts her head to the side, motioning for you to go out and find Peter. You sigh, nodding your head. The quick conversation was over before you knew it. A part of you thinks she also just wanted to get rid of you, but you couldn’t blame her. You probably weren’t the only one angry and annoyed with the predicament at hand.

You go back to the kitchen where you left the two boys to fend for themselves. It probably wasn’t going too well considering you could still hear Flash’s nonstop teasing. You spotted Ned and his spunky fedora, but there was no one else with him.

“Weren’t there two of you?” You asked, trying to use sarcasm to mask any panic you may have felt.

Ned snaps out of his slight daze. “Well, Peter went to go, you know, change, so he can impress Liz, and prevent the future embarrassment of not actually knowing Spider-Man.”

“First of all, does he technically know him if he is him? Second of all, you caused all of this so you kinda screwed him over. And third of all, aren’t you supposed to be on my side too?” You asserted, slightly hurt.

The sensible side of you thought that there was no way that Peter would go through with this. All this for a girl that wasn’t even his soulmate? Just thinking about it made you more upset. You were also hurt by your raven-haired friend and his betrayal, but one step at a time you suppose.

“Well in my defense, I have no idea what’s happening, like ever. And Peter doesn’t seem to be doing so well lately, so I thought this might make him feel better. You know, bros before hoes. B-but you’re not a hoe, Y/N. It’s just that you’re a girl- not that all girls are hoes, guys can be hoes too-“

“I’m gonna stop you before this gets any worse,” You warned. “It’s whatever, I can forgive you for now cause you’re a good guy. Just, where is he? I really need to talk to him.”

Ned sighs, slightly guilty that about the plan he participated in. He points upward to the ceiling. The motion leaves you confused, but upon looking up and seeing the skylight in the middle of the roof, you understood. Where else would you find a spider?

A few room searches later, and a risky climb, you were able to get on the roof of the house. The possible twenty-foot fall was worth it when you were met with a familiar face and a red and blue suit to match.

“Kinda envy your powers right now, could’ve found you a lot sooner.” You said, a half-smirk appearing on your face.

Peter turns his head from where he’s sitting, offering a rather sad smile. He soon goes back and focuses on the mask in between his hands, fidgeting with the fabric. You start to feel a little awkward for intruding, but you knew you this was something you had to do. Brushing away any stiffness between you two, you shimmy closer to Peter and sit down next to him.

“Shouldn’t you be down there, doing I don’t know, spider stuff?” You observed.

“Spider stuff makes my amazing powers sound rather lame; don’t you think?” Peter mumbles, trying to make a joke.

“Well, I’m terribly sorry.” You chuckle. “Seriously though, how long have you been up here? Ned is looking like a lost puppy without you.”

Peter gives a small laugh at your comment. Your conversations always included some form of witty banter, and even in predicaments like these, it doesn’t seem to go away that easily. “Couldn’t do it, I guess. I was about to head back, but when I saw everyone downstairs, I don’t know, something changed.”

“Changed as in, you don’t know why you’re doing this?” You prod.

Peter nods once as if to say you were right, but doesn’t want to admit it just yet.

“I’m doing this to seem like someone else. But it’s not someone else, i-it’s still me, you know? I love Spider-Man and all, but going there as him seems…” He trails off, a loss for words.

“They wouldn’t look at you as Peter, just Spider-Man.”

Peter nods again, this time to agree with your theory.

“I understand, it wouldn’t feel like they’re genuinely impressed with you. But hey,” You bump his shoulder with yours. “You’re Spider-Man because of who you are, because of who Peter Parker is. You’re the one trying to make the world a better place. I mean, Spider-Man isn’t a real person, but Peter is, and it’s their loss if they aren’t impressed with someone as cool as you.”

The words sent a bright smile onto your friend’s face. It was actual, good advice: something that he wished Ned or anyone could’ve given him sooner.

“Could’ve told me that before I went through all the trouble of putting this on.” Peter joked, bringing you back into your old rhythm of conversation.

“Well, I’ll try to climb the window faster next time. But if I’m on the ground and not up here, you know why.” You quip back, causing Peter to laugh once again.

Everything started to feel familiar again, all it did was a little talking. You suppose the hostility between you two couldn’t be fully blamed on him. Maybe if you tried to talk to him like this more and showed that you cared, you’d be able to find a balance in your lives.

The thoughts caused you to space off, your stares stuck on Peter. He eventually notices when he turns to look at you. Now the two of you are looking at one another, neither one of you wanting to ruin the moment. A part of you wanted to lean in, even if it was just an inch. You would’ve followed your urge too, but you didn’t want to lose focus on your purpose.

“Hey listen Pete, the reason why I came up here-”

“Holy shit,” He interrupts, staring into the distance, mouth agape.

You scrunch your face. What the hell, dude?

Looking in the same direction as Peter, you see what he’s referring to. A single, bright light beamed in the distance. It was too blue and too unearthly to be natural, which caused both of you to worry.

The spiderling stands up before looking at you again, this time with a guilty face. You sigh, this is just like the first time. When he left you in the dust at your own apartment to go fight crime after just finding out about his identity. You knew he didn’t want to leave just as much as you, but there was nothing he could do. No one else can risk their lives to save the city.

“Guess I’ll see you later, then.” You answer his silence.

You stand up afterward and motion for him to go, but he doesn’t move from his spot. He wants to, but there’s something stopping you and you couldn’t quite pin it. Before you know it, Peter wraps you into a tight hug. You can’t remember a time that he’s ever done this (which makes sense considering you found out you were soulmates after years of friendship). Yet despite the confusion that enveloped your head, you bring your arms around him, squeezing back. You close your eyes, enjoying the moment of warmth brought between you two. Peter lets go, much to your dismay, and puts his mask on. He webs away, leaving you to a party you didn’t even want to go to.

Since that party, you haven’t seen much of your Spider-friend due to Decathlon's practice. Nationals were coming up, and Liz was really making sure everyone was prepared for the competition. Peter has continued to dedicate his life to fighting, even more so than usual. You figured he needed a distraction, like decathlon was to you, but you still missed him nonetheless. Flash isn’t doing too hot as Peter’s replacement, and it only makes you miss him more.

After another week or so, you and your team were headed to Washington D.C. for the awaited competition. Waiting for everyone to load their luggage onto the bus, you and MJ were quizzing each other when Peter runs toward the group, packed and all.

“The hell,” You mumble under your breath.

“Hey guys, yeah um, I was hoping I could rejoin the team,” Peter quickly asks, nervousness seeping into his words.

You don’t say anything, not only because you were at a loss of words, but also because Flash looks like he has steam coming out of his ears. “No freaking way, Parker. We don’t even need you.” Flash boasted.

The rest of the group looked at each other, all awkwardly sucking in the breaths and gritting their teeth. No one dared to say anything afterward.

”Actually, it would be great of you to join us again, Peter. Who else is going to answer all the chemistry questions?” Liz smiled.

You tried to suppress a gag. By the look on Peter’s face, you could tell he was flattered, which only made things worse for you. This was the one rom-com you hated.

Peter continues to receive warm welcomes from the rest of the team, and especially Mr. Harrington. However, you leaned against the bus and watched from the sidelines confused. He dropped so much for Spider-Man; he wouldn’t join back all of a sudden. You wonder what your friend’s hidden agenda was.

Once you started to load on the bus, you decided to join Peter in the back. As you approached the end of the aisle, you reminded yourself you were doing this because you were friends. Aside from the intense hug at the party that seemed like forever ago, you and Peter were never more than best friends. Any harbored feelings were kept under lock and key, and you know it’s for the best.

“Okay,” You start to say as you slump in your seat. “Why are you actually here?”

“Was it that obvious?” Peter timidly asks.

“To me at least. Seems weird that you’re not busy with spider stuff all of a sudden. Unless of course, you are doing said stuff?”

Peter sighs, checking around to see no one’s watching. Once doing so, he opens his backpack and his hand reappears with a violent-tinted object. Though it seems obvious to Peter what the object means, it doesn’t answer your question.

“Uh, you’re going to D.C. because of a rock?” You asked.

“What, no, it’s not a rock. It’s tech, alien tech.” He rambles, basically shoving the subject in your face.

“And you got this from…?”

“Well, some guy tried to vaporize me-”

“What!” You scream. You would’ve continued to yell but Peter tells you to quiet down.

“Hey relax, I’m fine.” He looks back up to make sure you didn’t grab anyone’s attention. “But after I left Liz’s party, I caught some weapons trade deal going on. Turns out, someone’s combining alien tech with human tech to get rich.”

“Okay well, clearly I have missed a lot in the last week.” You say. “So wait, where exactly does D.C. come into play?”

“Well I put a tracker on one of the guys and they’re heading toward Maryland for another deal or something; D.C. was the easiest way to get there,” Peter explained.

“This is getting a little complicated, does Iron Man or Tony Stark or whatever you call him know about this?”

You don’t mean to sound like a mother, but going all the way into another state seems too overwhelming for a teenage superhero.

“Well, no he doesn’t really trust me. But Ned’s my ‘guy-in-the-chair’ so I’m not doing this alone, and when I catch the guys behind this, Mr. Stark will know I’m capable.”

You stay silent for a little bit, processing your thoughts. You don’t want Peter to get into any danger, especially when you know about his future. However, you knew you couldn’t stop him. He was dedicated, and clearly, this guy was bad news. If he truly needed help, you knew you would be there.

“Well, I’m just glad to have you back. We’re bound to win now, no offense to Flash.” You joke, letting go of all your previous thoughts.

The rest of the bus ride is consisted of decathlon practice, sleeping, and laying on Peter’s shoulder. Friendly, of course. You were tired after all…

——-

“Flash is totally jealous. The kid reeks of ‘I’m compensating my rather sad life by pretending to be cool so fuck you, Peter’.”

“Harsh, MJ. What did he ever do to you?” You reply, starfish on the hotel bed.

“I’m not saying that as a negative, it just makes sense as to why he’s the way he is.” MJ defends.

You hear your phones ring, interrupting the conversation. Too lazy to grab yours from the nightstand, you wait for your friend to tell you what’s up.

“Liz says she wants the team to have a pool night before the big day. Quick bonding session apparently?”

“Ugh, what’s the point? What is a party gonna do for us?” You groan, face down on the mattress.

“She’s captain, after all, wouldn’t want to go against her orders, right?” MJ jokes. “It probably won’t even be that bad. We don’t even have to swim; we can just sit in the chairs.”

Ten minutes later you find yourself heading down the stairs, expensive candy bars in hand. You’ll never understand why the minifridge is always so pricey; MJ blames capitalism, but when doesn’t she?

As you approach another hallway before heading to the pool, you see Peter coming out of his room in regular normal clothes. Did he not get the memo? You slow down as you get closer to the boy.

“Didn’t know you swam with gym shorts, dude.” You say, eyeing his inappropriate attire.

“Y/N, h-hey.” Peter stutters, which confuses you even more.

You cross your arms in front of your chest, which in turn highlights your assets there. Peter couldn’t help but glance at where your arms were placed. Your swimsuit clung to your body nicely, making him take a small gulp. Much of your skin was exposed, and Peter wondered how many times he’s looked at your body without realizing it. If you didn’t reply, god knows how much longer he’d stare.

“Something tells me you’re not going to the pool with us.”

“Yeah no, there’s something else I gotta do. I’ll tell you in the morning though.” Peter coughs, coming back to his senses.

He can see your disappointment at his urgency to leave. You didn’t mean to take it personally, but it felt like he was ditching you again.

You also couldn’t help but worry once again. He’s keeping this secret from the Tony Stark, someone who he has looked up to since he was saved by him all those years ago. Maybe you could at least try to stop him? But before you got a chance to, Liz interrupts your conversation.

“C’mon guys, let’s get a move on.” Liz cheered. “Peter you’re not even dressed yet. You know, you better be going. You’re back on the team, after all.”

“Yeah totally, I’ll be there. Just need to grab something first.” He explained as a blush warmed his cheeks.

You wondered if this would be an inappropriate time to gag. Anger stiffened onto your face as you clenched your jaw. You try to keep cool; it’s ridiculous to be mad as such a basic conversation, even if it left Peter smitten.

By the time you found your chill, Liz joined the rest of the team and hurried to the pool, leaving you and Peter alone again. He was about to run off, but you grabbed his arm before he turned away from you completely.

“Peter, don’t you think this is all, I don’t know, a bit much?” You warned, not letting go of his wrist.

“Seriously, Y/N? You too?” Peter snapped as he moved his arm out of your grasp.

You were taken aback by the sudden annoyance. Didn’t he get how dangerous this was? Nonetheless, a part of you felt bad that he was feeling helicoptered by you.

“I just mean that if it’s serious maybe you can call Stark or one of the Avengers-“

“I get that most of the Avengers are twice as old as me, and I get that it’s risky that Mr. Stark doesn’t know about this. But goddammit, I went to Germany and stole Cap’s shield right in front of his freaking eyes; I’m strong enough to lift cars and I can swing onto the Empire State Building if I wanted to, which is on my bucket list thank you very much. Look, I can do this, but I can’t if everyone I love is trying to stop me. I may be a kid to Mr. Stark, but no kid can do what I can do.”

Your friend’s speech leaves you silent. You look at him: Peter’s eyes were wide and his mouth was closed tight. Part of you thought he was going to say more, that he wanted to say more, but he stayed silent as well.

Peter wanted to add that he knew he wouldn’t get majorly hurt in Maryland. After all, he’s going to be in New York when it happens. He quickly forgets the thought, tightening the grip on his backpack straps. He turns away from you for what he thinks is the last time. He was in a hurry, and plus he was too upset to stay.

“Can you at least be careful?” You yell across the hall. “Even if you’re mad at me, it’s the least you can do.”

Peter turns back around to face you.

“You aren’t gonna stop me?” He asks.

“Don’t think I can, which is why I’m asking you to be safe.” You reply, offering a small but genuine smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be careful,” Peter nods. “I’ll try to keep you posted more, maybe you, me, and Ned can be a team.”

“We’ll see, don’t want him to be kicked out of his unofficial job.” You joke, causing you both to laugh.

Peter then leaves you by yourself in the hallway as he heads into the night. By the time he’s on the rooftop of the hotel all dressed, he sees you and the decathlon team in the pool. You were still sitting in the chairs while the rest of the group were splashing each other. You laugh at the commotion before looking up. A certain hero caught your eye, and your smile stretched from ear to ear.

You mouth “good luck” to the boy on the roof. Peter laughs at the cheesy situation, but he’s grateful you have his back. His heart tightens at the gesture, something that he didn’t notice until he swung away and the feeling still lingered. A part of him thought that maybe, just maybe, you guys could stand a chance.

——-

Not good.

Very not good.

Not very good at all.

In conclusion: bad, bad, bad.

Peter’s thoughts left him in a feverish panic. Okay, so maybe the plan didn’t go as well he hoped. He knew there was something bound to go off the rails. He just didn’t think being locked in a warehouse until the morning was going to be one of them. Of course he had to pass out in a moving truck…

Minutes felt like hours as he walked around the large, deserted building. There wasn’t much he could do but throw webs and talk to his newfound A.I. Karen. Eventually, he gave up trying to find ways out. He’ll just have to leave in the morning and rush to the decathlon competition, another amazing consequence of his failed mission. Peter is even gladder he didn’t tell Mr. Stark, he couldn’t bear to stand the embarrassment.

Karen helped to calm the boy down, even prompted him to talk about his life. Soon, Peter found himself in a therapy session, more or less.

“I just don’t want to be seen as some small-town hero, you know. Helping old ladies across the street is cute and all, but I want missions. Like Avenger-level missions. The only people that seem to be okay with that are me and Y/N, which doesn’t help change Mr. Stark’s mind.”

“Y/N?” Karen asks, unfamiliar with the person in question.

“Wha- oh, yeah. She’s just a friend. Well, I mean she’s my soulmate but-“

“So you’re in love with Y/N,” Karen confirms.

“What no, no. I’m not in love with her. I’ve never looked at her as anything more than a friend. Plus, there’s Liz who’s this girl that I like.”

“Why do you like someone who’s not your soulmate?”

The question silences Peter for a second. It’s a question he never took the time to ponder as he’s tried to keep himself distracted. He avoided ever thinking about soulmates, but in a situation where he’s stuck for the next few hours, he doesn’t have anything to distract himself with.

“Well, Liz is nice to me. She seems interested in me too, and she hasn’t found her soulmate yet so there’s no harm. There’s no rulebook to follow.” Peter explains, almost sounding like he’s defending himself.

“Could you at least see yourself with Y/N?” Karen pushes, causing Peter to sigh.

“I mean, in a perfect world, yeah. She’s my best friend, we know each other so well. She always seems to know what I’m thinking, even if she doesn’t say anything. And she cares so much about others. It shows how beautiful she is inside and out, which is amazing to me. I was really worried she’d stop being my friend once she found out about Spider-Man, but she accepted it almost right away. It- it’s good to know that she always has my back. If things were different, maybe we’d be together. But Liz, she’s got it all too. She’s really cool and stuff. I mean, we haven’t talked all that much, but I know she’s great. Yeah, she- she’s great…” Peter trails off.

It was obvious to Karen, an A.I. that doesn’t even experience emotion, that Peter was blindsided with his quest for Liz. To chase someone he doesn’t really know was clearly a distraction from something, though Karen wasn’t exactly sure what. Comparing how he talked about the two girls would prove to any competent person that you were his soulmate, and one that he clearly liked.

Peter soon ended the conversation as he became more restless. He continued to search around to see if there was anything stored within the warehouse. Good thing too, because soon after Peter is begging for dear life to escape.

Well, this isn’t ideal.

Not very ideal at all.

This is very bad.

Bad, bad, bad.

You and your team’s glorious victory fades into a dream as you dangle from a broken elevator more than four hundred stories up.

The morning already left you in a panic as Peter was M.I.A. for the competition, angering many. You lost in the penultimate round due to the fact that your best chemistry guy was nowhere to be found. While the members were annoyed at his sudden disappearance, you couldn’t help but be worried sick throughout the whole morning. Half the questions passed your ears as they were too busy focusing on your rapid, thumping heartbeat. You were lucky MJ answered the final question that won you guys the championship; you didn’t even hear it. Soon everyone’s anger at a certain team member dissipated and turned into whooping cheers and congratulations. You hugged MJ and Ned, but you were left with your worries still unanswered.

Your celebration led you to nothing but the one and only Washington Monument. Sightseeing was always your favorite part of trips, but you had a feeling that would change after this. Of course the elevator had to get damaged when there were a dozen people inside it. You turned to your friend, a gnawing suspicion that he knew what just happened.

“Ned, sweetie. Did you bring that goddamn alien rock?” You mutter with gritted teeth.

“Yeah b-but, why does that have to do with anything?” Ned stutters with fear.

“Well, I don’t think my phone caused the elevator to hang by a freaking thread.” You quip, raising your eyebrows. “It’s whatever, we can’t do anything about it now.”

“You seem too calm about this situation, we could die at any moment, Y/N.”

“We’re not gonna die in here, Ned. Not me, at least.” You whisper the last part.

“You don’t know that,” Ned says.

Oh, but I do. I have to watch my fucking soulmate die before I die too.

“I have a hunch,” You snap, ending the conversation.

Soon you could see security guards above you, opening the doors that would’ve exposed the elevator. They tell you to climb out one at a time carefully as to not mess up the balance. Flash pushes everyone else out of the way, him and the decathlon trophy climbing out first. Figures…

You let everyone else get out first since you were the farthest from the hatch. You helped Betty, the last person before you, by giving her a leg up. But the push must’ve been too forceful for the now delicate elevator. You hear a snap, and the elevator plummets another five or so feet. The sudden jolt causes you to scream and grip the railing. Even if you don’t die here, you were still terrified. Dropping to a near-death doesn’t sound any better than dropping to your actual death.

“Hey, over here! I got you,” You hear a familiar voice call.

Through the hatch, you see Peter. Well, Peter in his Spider-Man suit. He was still Peter to you, though. Relief flows through your body.

“Just climb out and jump out,” He says.

You don’t move from your spot, and instead you give him a glare of disbelief. He cannot be serious right now. Perhaps free-falling isn’t as bad as you think…

“Trust me, I’ll catch you, okay? Do you trust me?” Peter pleads.

“Always,” You reply right away, and you mean it. You always trusted Peter, and this was no different. If he says he’ll catch you, he’ll catch you.

You take a deep breath and nod. You make your way out of the elevator slowly, ignoring the loud creaks. Both your arms and breath shaky, you stand up after getting through the open hatch. Looking up, you stare at the boy above you. Even though his face was covered, you could easily imagine how bright his brown eyes looked. You still saw his face through the mask.

“Okay, just jump with your arms up so I can catch you. You’ll be okay, Y/N.” Peter reassures you. You hope no one caught the fact he knew your name.

With your knees bent, you try to jump as high as you can. You close your eyes so tightly, half expecting yourself to be falling hundreds of feet down along with the elevator. When you open them, you see yourself dangling in the now empty space, webs wrapped around your wrists. Slowly Peter pulls you up to the top and you were soon met by the floor that you missed oh so much.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks as you stand up.

You throw your arms around him tightly, not wanting to let go. Though shocked, Peter hugs you back and you’re reminded of the time he hugged you at the party. You bury your face in his neck with glee. Not only were you relieved that you made it out, but you were mostly happy that Peter was safe too.

“Yeah, I’m just glad you are too.” You say, face still close to his.

“Uh, what?” You hear Flash say.

Shit, you forget the rest of the team was behind you, watching you hug a “stranger”. You doubt none of them would piece it together, but you surely didn’t want to risk it. Quickly opening your eyes back to reality, you let your arms go slack by your side.

“I uh, I- I said I’m glad I’m safe too. Yeah. Thank you, Spider-Man, you are indeed a real hero. This is definitely the first time I’ve seen you face to face. I mean, face to mask, cause I’ve totally never seen your face before.”

MJ was right; you were a terrible liar, but you didn’t realize it that bad. You were left cringing by what just happened. Luckily, despite the atrocious lie, no one thought anything of it. You were a girl in shock after a traumatic event, they didn’t expect you to be completely sane right away.

“Okay, well bye,” You abruptly say, trying to ignore what just happened.

Peter gets the memo, also not wanting to expose himself in front of his classmates. He says his goodbyes and awkwardly waves to everyone. He gives you one last look, eyes glassy under the mask. The whole time he saw you in the elevator he was terrified for you, he wasn’t even sure his plan would work. He was still queasy to his stomach afterward. But looking at you, all safe and mostly collected, made him smile. Perhaps he looked at you for longer than he should’ve before swinging out and away. You didn’t mind. You were giving him heart eyes back.

“Shit,” Flash mumbles. “I forgot to ask if he knows Peter!”

——-

No one seems to care too much that Peter randomly showed up once again. You assume it was because everyone was still a little shaken, and it was for the best that they didn’t say anything. Your eyes light up when you’re face to face with Peter, glad that you could see him without his hero persona.

You hug him for another time. The feeling of his chest becomes more familiar, and you’re shocked that you’ve never done this sooner. Maybe it’s because you haven’t been put into near-death experiences until recently, but you still enjoy these moments all the same.

“Peter!” A voice that you’ve been dreading called.

Liz jogs over to you guys and Peter quickly lets go of you. You purse your lips with slight envy. You didn’t think the hug would seem that compromising, plus you also missed the warmth of his body against yours.

“He- hey Liz,” Peter blushes.

“Where the heck did you go? I mean, I should be pissed cause you missed the competition, but I’m more worried. I haven’t seen you since last night.” Liz rambles.

You feel slightly awkward just standing there, but Liz was too concerned about Peter’s whereabouts to really talk to you. It’s understandable; you’re concerned too. Yet it still leaves a foul taste on your mouth.

Peter and Liz continue to talk, with Peter asking Liz if she was okay after the elevator fiasco and Liz still shaken by it all. Eventually, it leads to the two of them completely forgetting your existence and sitting next to each other on the bus. You were left by yourself, staring daggers at their seat as you sat in the back with MJ and Ned. He abandoned you and you couldn’t help but be a little mad. Okay, you were furious. This past month you thought you were making progress with the curly-haired boy. Even if you couldn’t be together, which you understood, you at least thought you could come to an agreement about your feelings. He’s still in Liz Land, and you were left feeling rejected. You had a right to be angry.

You wish you had powers so you could hear the conversation between the two. They looked too close and chummy for your liking, but there was nothing you could do. You wondered if Peter even looked at you as more than a friend, and your heart sinks as you realize maybe he doesn’t. You hated this routine you’ve put yourself through: having a moment with Peter that inevitably ends up being interrupted by Liz, and you being left upset afterward.

If this month has shown you anything, it’s that you liked Peter. You loved how much of a hero he was and how he always wanted the best for others. Even though he ditches you for Liz, you knew he’d have your back when you truly needed, like today with the elevator.

As the anger settled in your stomach, you came to the conclusion that you hated this reality, and that you couldn’t do anything about it. If this will save him, then it’s worth it. Maybe…

Part 1 / Masterlist / Part 3

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arofili · 3 years

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Smut4Smut Prompts

I didn’t intend to write an actual letter, I just wanted to paste my prompts into the description box for this exchange, but then I got long-winded (as usual) so here are the prompts that were too long for AO3 to handle! If the prompts did fit into the box they’re not going to be here, and I am not restating my DNWs/Likes/etc; that’s all readily available in my AO3 signup.

~~~

Canon Russingon Prompts

(These are optional - if you have a different idea, go for it!)

This is my “Russingon in canon” request, though if you’ve got a canon divergence AU, be my guest.

BDSM - A doms B into being nicer to/taking better care of themself: This just screams Russingon to me. Maedhros asking for Fingon to be cruel to him and Fingon using kindness as the greatest cruelty because Maedhros hates himself so much...

Character Bottoms Who Normally Tops, Character Tops Who Normally Bottoms, Role Reversal: I’m a sucker for role reversal, especially with these two. I lean toward Maedhros bottoming more often than not, but however you prefer their dynamic is completely fine.

Can't Stop Thinking About It - A Accidentally Sees B Naked, Can't Stop Thinking About It - A Hears B Masturbating and Moaning A's Name: I think I’ve written both of these scenarios for these two but I would LOVE to read another take on them! Mutual pining in Valinor? :)

Characters mutually pining finally get together and have amazing sex, Filthy Sex With Feelings,: I just love this in general, and Russingon having filthy but extremely loving sex is my very favorite thing <3

Characters Experiment With Sexy New Ways To Use Detachable Body Parts: Maedhros’ prosthetic. Enough said.

Characters React To In-Universe Smut Written About Them: Listen, someone has GOT to have written some Russingon smut in-canon, that’s just statistically likely. The sillier and less accurate it is, the better, especially if it’s countered with them having the kind of sex they prefer in...protest? Or maybe trying out some of the dumb things, lol.

Cock Slut, Slut Praising: bottom!Maedhros tbh.

Crown kink, Fealty, Throne Sex: The “Fealty Kink” tag is literally half Silm fics, and half of those are Russingon fics. Add some more?

Dom/sub - not 24/7 but reflecting RL power roles: Very much related to the above. Liege/vassal kink? Yes please!

Domesticity - Sex In Bed Before Sleep: Just. Soft married Russingon. ;-;

Devotion: THEY JUST LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH AND WOULD (AND DO) DIE FOR EACH OTHER. AHHH.

First Time: I am SUCH a sucker for first times. Could be their first time together at all, or their first time doing a specific sexual act, or their first time in a certain situation (post-Angband, post-rebirth, etc...)

Getting Together: Another thing I really really love in almost any form, especially if there’s been mutual pining before this.

Fluff and Smut: Russingon just loving each other SO DAMN MUCH...bonus points if there’s some baby Gil-galad fluff involved before/after the sexytimes?

Hurt/Comfort Sex: Their lives are so depressing that there’s so many times this could apply. Right before Formenos? Right after the Darkening or the First Kinslaying? Post-Angband/Ice? Post-Bragollach? Or any other time things get angsty (aka all of canon)?

Magic - using telepathy to cause other person to orgasm: Soul bonds. Dom Fingon. Yes please.

Morning After (Incredible Sex the night before): Fluffy good times. Maybe after their first time, back in Valinor?

Mutual Masturbation With Intent to Watch Each Other in Lieu of First Time Sex: Another fic I have definitely written before but would LOVE to see again! This would make the most sense in a LaCE context, I think.

Mutual Pining: I’ve mentioned this a billion times already, you get the idea.

Praise Kink: Maedhros has a praise kink, that’s just canon. This can be fun and slightly embarrassing in Valinor...or really intensely emotional post Angband. Or post-rebirth...oof.

Pregnancy - Sex to Conceive Heir: Just where DID Gil-galad come from, hmmm? (Trans mpreg is wonderful; I’m not interested in cis mpreg. Either one of them could be trans, I enjoy both.)

Reunion Sex: They’re basically in an LDR in Beleriand, give me some Fingon visiting Himring or Maedhros visiting Dor-lómin and just how horny and desperate they are for each other after being separated for awhile.

Scar Worship: Finno post-Angband finding Mae’s scars Extremely Sexy?

Secret relationship between members of feuding families: This is literally just canon. Lean into the Romeo and Juliet style Valinor shenanigans!

Sex After Taking Revenge on Someone Who Wronged Their Partner: Husbands who murder orcs together and then fuck while still all nasty from battle :)))

Sex Toys - Character Fucks Themselves on a Dildo While Performing Oral Sex: I just think Mae giving Finno a blowjob and fucking himself at the same time would be really hot, okay?

Size - Size Difference: I do love bottom!Maedhros, but I also love size queen!Fingon, and I think they both really enjoy the size difference :))

thank god you're/we're alive sex: I bet this happened SO many times after battles in Beleriand. This could also apply to right after the Darkening, and would be just HEARTRENDING right after the First Kinslaying...

Soul Bond - Sharing Physical Pleasure Through Soul Bond: I am very fond of this trope! Also like. Them feeling how much they are loved through each other’s eyes. Ahhh. But also like, Mae getting off on how good he’s making Finno feel. Or vice versa.

Character A hurts Character B (at their request) during sex but Character A immediately regrets it, Character Thinks Rescue Has a Price Tag, Sex gets paused to deal with PTSD then maybe returned to, panic attack during sex: These are some angstier options! I would love a fluffy/happy story (or a hurt/comfort story) but if you wanted to go a bit darker route here’s some ideas. Just. Post-Angband Mae with no self worth and/or consent issues, Finno having a hard time dealing with Mae being masochistic, Mae flashing back to Angband...all of these are some really juicy ideas.

~~~

Modern Russingon Prompts

(These are optional - if you have a different idea, go for it!)

This is my “Modern AU Russingon” request - though if you see a tag here that you think could be applied to canon, that would be awesome too.

Trans Male Character: Lots of these tags would have at least one of them being trans, which I’m also super happy to see in canon-compliant fic, but I know for me it feels a bit easier to me to write about trans stuff when I don’t have to worry about terminology not fitting the setting, so I put them here.

Cunnilingus to relieve period cramps, PiV With Trans Male Character, Sex Toys - Character Fucks Themselves on a Dildo While Performing Oral Sex, Sex Toys - Giving a Blowjob to a Dildo or Strap-on, Sex Toys - Strap-On: Just all some very excellent stuff if you want to go the trans route. I imagine the strap game would be next level with these two.

Characters mutually pining finally get together and have amazing sex, Filthy Sex With Feelings, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Morning After (Incredible Sex the night before), Mutual Pining, Praise Kink, Size - Size Difference: I requested all these tags for the canon prompt too, this is just the same stuff but modern, where they get to be dorky about how much they’re in love, minus most of the angst.

Character with Low Self-Esteem has Self-Worth Affirmed Through Tender Sex: ...but not minus ALL the angst. Just. Mae having had bad experiences in previous relationships and Finno being extremely tender and loving to him, AHHHH.

Getting off on how much partner trusts them: And this could be the other side of the previous request - Mae is trusting Finno even after all the bad stuff he went through and that’s very sexy to him.

Good Boy/Good Girl Kink: This could apply in canon too but if you want to do the trans thing, it could also be a gender affirmation thing.

Impact - Friendly ass slap unexpectedly turns character on: Mae is mortified that he’s into spanking, Finno is delighted.

romantic sex: This didn’t fit into the previous request but YES PLEASE. Just. They love each other SO much.

~~~

Russurgon Prompts

(These are optional - if you have a different idea, go for it!)

OKAY wow I love this ship, it’s so incredibly fucked up and angsty, hell yeah. This is one request where you really don’t need to bother with anything fluffy or a happy-ish ending, just go full on angst mode, please! Basically, I just think it would be very fun and horrible if Mae seduced Turgon for political reasons post-Nírnaeth when they’re both grieving Fingon :)))))

Character Bottoms Who Normally Tops: I can see Turgon having a hangup about bottoming...which Mae is fine with but one day they get into a Very bad argument and Mae like, puts Turno in his place. (No non-con though. Dub-con would be okay here.)

Characters about to kill each other decide to fuck instead: Kinslaying averted by sex!

Dirty Talk - Character A Gets Off on B Relaying Their Sexual Exploits: Just. Mae growling in Turno’s ear all the filthy things he would do with Fingon and Turgon HATING it and especially hating how hot it is.

Enemies to enemies who fuck, Enemies With Benefits, Frenemies with Benefits, sex between enemies, Sex between rivals: Basically all the same thing. These guys do NOT like each other but they’re fucking anyway.

Fucked with the hilt of a weapon: Look idk man just. Turgon being really mean to Maedhros after a post-battle argument or something?

Grudging/Horrified One-Sided Attraction To Someone Who Annoys You Deeply: I think this would be funny if Turgon realized he was into Mae (honestly, at any point in time, not just post-Nirn?) and that maybe the reason he was so mad about Fingon dating Mae is because he was jealous...lmaooo

Hate Sex Turns Unexpectedly Tender: Like. A moment of understanding between them. That they both refuse to talk about after it happens.

lord/retainer, Political Alliance Confirmed with Sex, Political Debate as Foreplay, Sex as a Negotiation Tactic, Sex As Part Of Diplomatic Negotiations: POLITICAL SEX. It’s showing that they’re serious about this alliance...nothing else, just that...right?

sex as self harm, Sex as Unhealthy Coping Mechanism, Sex as Grief Processing: This could work for both of them but I think it especially works for Maedhros. He unlearned a lot of fucked up shit with Fingon after Angband, but now Fingon’s dead and it’s all coming crashing back down on him...and Turgon hates him so much that if he can tell, he doesn’t care.

A using B as replacement for C who is not present: This is exactly why Mae would fuck Fingon’s brother.

~~~

Anairë/Fëanor/Fingolfin/Nerdanel Prompts

(These are optional - if you have a different idea, go for it!)

OKAY so I don’t like sibling incest EXCEPT for Fëanor/Fingolfin, pretty much, just because the love-hate stuff with them is SO juicy. But I also hate how most FëaNolo fics depict their relationships with their wives, so I would just love it if they were all a polycule or had a foursome or something that didn’t end up with Fëanor and Fingolfin leaving their wives.

Bisexuality: They’re all very hot and they’re all very into each other. Gender who?

Breeding Kink - as dirty talk without risk: Look Fëanor and Nerdanel had SEVEN kids, I think there was probably some kind of breeding kink there...Fëanor applying this to Fingolfin, though? That’s hot. Or maybe he’s dirty talking with Anairë while Fingolfin is Right There.....yesss. But again, no risk, because elf pregnancy is always very intentional.

Character A and Character B Mutually Pine For Each Other While They Fuck Other People Together: Fëanor and Fingolfin just absolutely refusing to acknowledge their feelings even when they’re having sex with each other’s wives.

Double Anal Penetration, Double Penetration - Vaginal and Anal, Double Vaginal Penetration: I just think it’s hot. You can mix up who’s penetrating who, give the ladies some strap-ons or mess around with gender, if you like.

First Time - Getting Pegged: Fëanorians get pegged, it is law, so probably not Fëanor’s first time but... Nerdanel pegging Fingolfin? Or Fëanor and Nerdanel showing Fingolfin and Anairë how it’s done? OR since let’s be real Fingolfin ALSO probably gets pegged regularly, Anairë and Nerdanel fucking each other while their husbands watch, and it’s their first time with another lady.

First Time Having Sex Postpartum: I imagine Nerdanel is unfazed by what pregnancy does to the body, but maybe Anairë isn’t, and her lovers all get together to show her how much they still love her after like, Argon is born?

Fucking Someone While Being Fucked By Someone Else: All the fun things you can do with multiple partners...

Grudging/Horrified One-Sided Attraction To Someone Who Annoys You Deeply: I must admit I missed the “one-sided” part of this when I picked this tag - but maybe they think it’s one-sided but it turns out that it’s not? Regardless, this is exactly how I see Fëanor and Fingolfin if they’re in a ship situation.

Sexy Shenanigans at a Masked Ball: Anonymity allowing a secret relationship to be slightly less secret!! Everyone is like “wow who is that tall fellow dancing with Prince Fëanáro?” or something like that!

~~~

Taeglin Prompts

(These are optional - if you have a different idea, go for it!)

Now this is my rarepair that I completely understand why it’s a rarepair, but also like MATCHING CURSED SWORDS. I generally think of this ship in the context of a “Túrin goes to Gondolin with Tuor” AU, BUT it could also be a “Aredhel and Maeglin go to Himlad, and then follow Celegorm and Curufin to Nargothrond and stay after they get banished” AU, but that’s a bit more convoluted. Or you can have them meet each other on one of Maeglin’s journeys away from Gondolin, or whatever other take you’d like to explore.

Both parties are pining for someone else: Túrin missing Beleg? Or both of them being in love with Idril and upset about her choosing Tuor instead, lol.

In Captivity Together, Bad guys think they made them do it but they really just enabled them: Túrin gets captured alongside Maeglin...or maybe Maeglin gets captured earlier, at the same time Túrin is after Amon Rûdh? (In that case it would probably just be “Bad guys made them do it” without the qualifier because they haven’t had the chance to Pine.) Basically, they finally have an excuse to fuck, and it’s not ideal, but hey they’re gonna take it.

Realizing romantic feelings mid-sex: “Oh FUCK I actually like this guy. Shit. Goddamnit.”

Mating Cycles/In Heat: Maybe heats are an elf thing, and Túrin remembers how Beleg would get, so he knows how to help Maeglin...and it’s not like Maeglin was going to ask anybody for help, he was just planning on suffering through it (again?)...

~~~

eta: an anon asked about smut likes and i was like oops i didn’t make that list so here’s some stuff i enjoy. otherwise just see the kink tags i requested

anal sex, vaginal sex, oral sex (basic but yknow)

fingering

frottage

very romantic sex (especially for russingon)

nonromantic sex (i like aro takes on characters)

trans characters whose gender is affirmed during sex

trans characters without much physical dysphoria

reunion sex

first times!!

hurt/comfort sex

political sex

fealty kink, liege/vassal dynamic

mutual masturbation

double penetration

russingon stumpfucking

dirty talk

healing from trauma through tender sex

dealing with trauma through rough sex

teasing, begging

dramatic miscommunications that get cleared up (such as mutual pining, very brief worries about consent, etc)

praise kink (especially for maedhros)

size kink (especially for fingon)

telepathy/osanwe

dom fingon/sub maedhros

hair kink

possessiveness but ONLY for russingon

sharing a bed

maedhros getting spanked......

role reversal, switching

#tmi anna #exchange letter

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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The Sopranos’ Funniest Moments

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The Sopranos’ genius was in telling structured stories with well-established themes, while still aping life in all its dirty, disorganised, contradictory, open-ended glory. The show wasn’t a drama, or a comedy, or a tragedy, or a farce. It was all of them. It was none of them. It was life.

Creator David Chase and his crack team of writers never lost sight of the essential truth that no matter how cruel, harrowing or horrid life becomes, it’s always laced through with laughs: oftentimes the laughter and the horror rise in tandem.

Here, then, are some of The Sopranos’ funniest moments, most of them enmeshed with the macabre, the monstrous and the melancholy.

South of the Border

S1, E9 ‘Boca’

In the machismo-drenched world of the mafia, even going down on your girlfriend is seen as a sign of sexual weakness, and quite possibly – in the non-PC words of Uncle Junior himself – ‘a sign that you’re a fanouk.’

Apparently, ‘they’ think ‘if you’ll suck p***y, you’ll suck anything.’

Whoever ‘they’ are.

News of Uncle Junior’s oral talents reaches Tony from a gossip chain, the final link in which is Carmella. Tony’s reaction, and the way in which he baits Uncle Junior with the intel on the golf course (culminating in Tony singing ‘South of the Border, down Mexico way’) is equal parts childish to hilarious – but funniest of all is how this schoolboy teasing serves as the pre-cursor to a Mafia war.

As Tony later tells Carmella: ‘Cunnilingus and psychiatry brought us to this.’

Guess Whose Back?

S1, E10 ‘A Hit is a Hit’

Christopher sets Adrianna up in a recording studio to help realise her dream of becoming a music mogul. Things don’t go well. Her new band – the woeful Visiting Day – is ready to walk after a long and soul-sapping session during which they’ve produced nothing of worth. Christopher wastes no time taking up the mantle of manager to convince them that the show must go on. It’s fair to say that being motivational doesn’t come naturally to Christopher. Or, rather, it does, it’s just that his methods of motivation are rather more violent than most. First, Christopher throws the ex-addict lead singer a bag of crystal meth and orders him to take it. When that doesn’t work, he takes the only reasonable course of action left open to him and smashes a guitar over the man’s back.

There’s No Place Like Home

S2,E4 ‘Commendatori’

Paulie is incredibly excited to be visiting the motherland, and arrives full of romantic notions about Italy. All of these are systematically stamped out, mostly by Paulie himself, of whom an Italian gangster remarks at dinner, after Paulie requests tomato ketchup for his spaghetti: ‘And you thought the Germans were classless pieces of shit.’

Paulie’s beatific little smile as he drinks in the squalor of New Jersey on the ride home from the airport is pitch perfect.

It’s the Jaaaccckkeett!

S2,E8 ‘Full Leather Jacket’

From the moment Richie Aprile is released from prison he’s on a collision course with Tony. In classic Sopranos’ style, though, the torch paper isn’t lit by Richie shacking up with Tony’s sister, or paralysing their mutual friend Beansie, but by the fall-out from a spurned jacket. Not just any jacket, though: ‘the’ jacket; the one Richie took off Rocco di Meo after an adolescent scrap.

‘Cocksucker had the toughest reputation in Essex County, but he never came back after I got through with him,’ Richie tells Tony, as he gifts him the infamous garment.

‘He later died of Alzheimer’s,’ adds Junior.

The look on Tony’s face as he tries to look grateful for ‘the jacket’ is almost as funny as the look Richie later wears in Carmella’s kitchen when he notices the sainted jacket hanging from the shoulders of the maid’s husband.

I Ain’t Afraid of No Ghost

S2, E9 ‘From Where to Eternity’

When Christopher briefly dies on the operating table after an assassination attempt, he returns from the brink of death with visions and dispatches from the afterlife. Paulie takes these reports to heart, divining in them a supernatural threat. Not only does Christopher tell Paulie that the souls of his many victims still follow him everywhere he goes, he also brings back an oblique warning: ‘Three o’clock’.

This cryptic curse has Paulie slamming bolt upright in his bed each night with a scream on his lips. First he visits Tony, who tries to lead Paulie back to sanity.

‘You eat steak?’ Tony asks.

‘What the fuck you talkin’ about?’

‘If you were in India, you would go to hell for that.’

‘I’m not in India,’ says Paulie. ‘What do I give a fuck?’

‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you. None of this shit means a goddamn thing.’

Unconvinced, Paulie visits a spiritualist psychic, who ‘confirms’ that Paulie is being stalked by ghosts. ‘That’s satanic black magic!’ rails a terrified Paulie, ‘Sick shit’, before hurling a chair at the ‘ghosts’ and screaming ‘Fuckin’ qu***s!’ at them. Finally, he visits his priest to tell him he’s cutting off his donations to the church on the grounds that he should’ve been protected from hauntings. I defy you not to chuckle at the baleful glare Paulie gives the Virgin Mary on his way out of the church.

A Very Un-woke Wake

S3, E2 ‘Proshai , Livushka’

Livia Soprano – Tony’s murderously manipulative mother – proved just as divisive in death as she was in life, her demise precipitating a wake that was as awkward and corrosive for the characters experiencing it as it was rich and funny for us schmucks at home.

Tony never wanted any of Janice’s ‘California Bullshit’ at the gathering he and Carmella hosted at their home (or ‘that house, up on that hill’, as Livia would have called it). Janice being Janice, though, vetoes her brother’s ruling. She asks each of the assembled guests to share a thought, a memory of their mother, which – given that Livia was a sharp-tongued, anti-social harridan – doesn’t produce heart-warming results. No wonder the unknown man descending the stairs in the background behind them all decides to about-turn and get the hell out of there.

‘She never minced words,’ says Hesch, trying his hardest to accentuate the positive, ‘Between… brain and mouth… there was no interlocutor.’

Movies

The Sopranos: saluting the greatest TV drama ever made

By Jamie Andrew

The Sopranos: Explaining the Final Scene

By Jamie Andrew

Christopher’s rambling, drug-fuelled, ad lib on the nature of existence, rebirth and doppelgangers is a treat, the sort of new-age snash David Brent might have conjured up while fully sober. The silence doesn’t last for long, though, not least because Carmella has spent the duration of the tense memorial knocking back booze like a cooze-hound on Spring Break, and is ready to unleash hell.

Merry Stressmas

S3, E10 ‘…To Save Us All from Satan’s Power’

In the absence of Big Pussy Bonpensiero – taken on a long boat-ride to oblivion – the amply proportioned Bobby Baccala is the natural choice to become the new Satriales’ Santa. Except he doesn’t want to do it. He’s too shy.

‘The fucking boss of this family told you you’re gonna be Santa Claus,’ Paulie tells Bobby menacingly. ‘You’re Santa Claus. So shut the fuck up about it!’

The surly and reluctant Bobby proves a lacklustre substitute, an observation that’s articulated perfectly by Paulie when he says, ‘Fuckin’ ho hum if you ask me.’

It’s not just Bobby’s mafia colleagues that like to drop the F-bomb at Xmas. Even a little boy, unimpressed by Bobby’s schtick, issues a heart-felt: ‘Fuck you, Santa.’

God bless us. Every one.

Two Assholes Lost in the Woods

S3, E11 ‘Pine Barrens’

The Pine Barrens was the episode that cleaved most closely to all-out comedy, pitting hot-headed anti-survivalists Christopher and Paulie against a runaway Russian they’d failed to kill. The darkly comic shit-show unfolded in the unforgiving, snow-filled foliage of the eponymous Pine Barrens, where Tony and Bobby were eventually summoned to rescue the hapless pair.

It’s hard to pick a comedy highlight from this episode, as it’s chock-full of them, but highlights include Tony losing it at the sight of Bobby Baccala’s hunting attire (if James Gandolfini’s laughter seems particularly genuine here, try googling some behind-the-scenes facts – you won’t be disappointed); Chris and Paulie noshing down on sauce sachets like they were a gourmet meal, and the following misunderstanding between Paulie, Chris and Tony thanks to poor mobile reception:

Tony: (garbled, on phone) It’s a bad connection, so I’m gonna talk fast. The guy you’re looking for is an ex-commando! He killed sixteen Chechen rebels single-handed.

Paulie: Get the fuck outta here.

Tony: Yeah, nice, huh? He was with the Interior Ministry. Guy’s some kind of Russian green beret. This guy cannot come back to tell this story. You understand?

[line breaks]

Paulie: (to Christopher) You’re not gonna believe this. He killed sixteen Czechoslovakians. The guy was an interior decorator.

Chris: His house looked like shit.

You Talkin’ To Me?

S4, E6 ‘Everybody Hurts’

Artie Bucco, Tony’s boyhood best pal, is a regular, hard-working chef. Even so, he’s frequently seduced by the luxurious criminal lifestyle he sees lapping around the fringes of his wonder-bread world. When a business deal to promote ‘the new French vodka’ goes awry and Artie finds himself $50k out of pocket to a swindling huckster he decides to channel his inner Mafioso and get his money back the Soprano way. Unfortunately, his inner Mafioso is no more ferocious than that possessed by any average member of the show’s audience – as much as proximity to Tony might convince us otherwise – and he gets the crap kicked out of him. Before that, though, his little Taxi Driver moment in the mirror, complete with mid-life crisis ear-ring and mobster posturing (‘Fucking shoes you’re wearing. What are they? Designer?’) is at once endearing, pathetic and very, very funny.

The mirror is no accident. He’s looking at us, looking at him, looking at ourselves.

Telephone Tough Guy

S4, E9 ‘Whoever Did This’

While Ralph Cifaretto is probably most widely remembered as a sort-of gangster Loki – a mirth-wracked trickster with a penchant for mayhem – most of his misdeeds were so loathsome that even the wider mafia disapproved: cheating on his grieving partner, beating a young pregnant girl to death, burning a horse alive (come on, of course that was him). Still, he did make us laugh, though, didn’t he?

No more so than when he pranked Paulie’s dopey-yet-adorable old mother in her nursing home (‘It’s a retirement community!’), announcing himself as Detective Mike Hunt, Beaver Falls, from the Pennsylvania police department. Not only did Ralph claim that Paulie had been caught pleasuring a cub scout in a public bathroom, but also that a small rodent had been discovered in Paulie’s rectal passage. ‘A gerbil, ma’am’.

Ralph laughed his head off.

Tony later removed it.

A Truth Injection

S4, E10 ‘The Strong, Silent Type’

Drug interventions are worthy and solemn rituals – they certainly aren’t supposed to be funny – but there’s something delicious about a room full of self-involved sociopaths with no impulse control and an insatiable appetite for pleasure assembling to pass judgement on Christopher essentially for having no impulse control and an insatiable appetite for pleasure. Christopher is at least self-aware enough to lobby this back in the faces of his supposed rescuers, pointing out that Silvio likes to sample his sex-workers; that Paulie’s hot-head almost dragged the Newark family into war with the Russian mob, and that Tony’s epicurean compulsions will probably kill him more quickly than Christopher’s drugs.

From the moment a bewildered Christopher emerges from his bedroom to find both families – blood and work – camped out in his living room, the laughs just keep coming, all the way through to the (inevitable) explosion of violence at the scene’s climax.

Christopher instantly recognises the host of the intervention, Dominic Paladino, as ‘the guy who broke into Stew Leonards that time and stole all those pork loins.’

‘Yes,’ replies a sheepish Dominic. ‘But… that’s not why I’m here today.’

Especial mirth-based mentions must go to Silvio and Paulie (the latter’s reaction to Christopher’s narcotic-related manhood problems is priceless), and their refusal to play along with the ‘care-frontation’.

‘When I came to open up one morning, there you were with your head half in the toilet. Your hair was in the toilet water. Disgusting,’ says Silvio, reading awkwardly from what is possibly the most unnecessary aide de memoire ever written.

Leave it to Paulie to lay the smackdown on this particular brand of ‘California bullshit’: ‘I don’t write nothing down,’ he says, ‘so I’ll keep this short and sweet. You’re weak. You’re out of control. And you’re becoming an embarrassment to yourself and everybody else.’

Drugs are bad. Mmmkay?

Dead Good Food

S5, E7 ‘In Camelot’

When Junior realises he can get respite from his house arrest through attending family funerals he starts to exaggerate and exploit ever more spurious links to get him out of the house for a few hours. While all around him are wracked with grief, his is the only face with a smile on it, enjoying the change of scenery, enjoying the food, wondering why everyone has to be so maudlin.

In a darkly funny scene he happily extols the virtues of the spread while attending the wake of a teenage boy. ‘Chicken’s nice and spicy, huh?’ he beams at a fellow mourner.

A Grave Error

S5, E9 ‘Unidentified Black Males’

When Tony agrees to pick up the tab for the headstone of a New York soldier who was slain, unbeknownst to him, by his own cousin, his men manage to add insult to injury.

We see the headstone. At the graveside. During the funeral service. And it says:

Peeps.

‘Peeps?’ spits Tony. ‘It’s a fuckin’ nickname! His family name is Pepperelli!’

Silvio hunkers down into full middle-management mode. ‘They’re gonna re-do it. Fuckin’ J.C. He’s dyslexic.’

‘What’s that got to do with it?’ asks an incredulous Tony.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

You could fill a book with The Sopranos’ funniest moments – Paulie’s rant about shoelaces, Bobby B botching a publicity shooting, Silvio’s poker-table tantrum, Little Carmine’s malapropisms, to name but a handful – so by necessity we’ve had to leave a lot out. What are some of yours?

The post The Sopranos’ Funniest Moments appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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unproduciblesmackdown · 4 years

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a handful of fun-or-something selections from my four separate attempts at writing a benston fic (prior to the s5 premiere evidently lol). shit is On Brand in there. ordered vaguely along the lines of [most Depressive Introspection] <-> [most Things Almost Actually Happening]

"Ben's talked to him after they were in a meeting together, sure, but also when Winston was having lunch, or sitting at his desk, or waiting outside Taylor's office to bring them a weekly report and maybe having selected that particular time to do so because he knew Ben was around. But why wouldn't Ben talk to him specifically, and even seek him out? He's in charge of Taylor's quant department, it's probably only polite, and Ben's always polite—to Winston, and to the other higher-ups, but also to other random analysts, and really anyone he meets. And if the way Ben treats him during their interactions always seems kind and gentle to the point of carefulness, or maybe delicacy, it's probably only because, from the very start, Winston has been flustered and tongue-tied around Ben, sometimes so unprepared to be in his presence that it makes him tense. If anything, Ben's probably a friendly enough person to feel bad for Winston, the social inept, unpopular computer nerd who really doesn't have anything going for him and is less on top of things than ever when Ben's around.

He can't let himself start thinking maybe Ben likes me, too? Maybe just a little? because there's absolutely nothing to indicate this. Ben's nice to everyone. He's given Ben nothing to like. It makes sense for him to catch feelings for Ben, of course, but no sense for Ben to be having the same experience over him, of all possible people. He can humor himself just a little, enjoy getting to talk with such a thoroughly lovely person, maybe even try to tentatively flirt—as long as he can remember there's only going to be one outcome. If he does nothing, he won't have a relationship with Ben. If he outright asks him on a date, he won't have a relationship with Ben. And if he tries for some compromise—like allowing for the fact that maybe Ben really was specifically hoping Winston would show tonight, and strategically sitting near him but not too near him, and seeing what happens—he won't have a relationship with Ben."

"But then again, they don't seem that keen on being friendly with anyone at all in the first place. Less competition - though if Ben hasn't turned the heads of any other Mase Cappers a radian or two, Winston wouldn't understand it either, though it might encourage him a little more. Despite how warm and patient and welcoming Ben is, Winston doesn't even know if he's single. Or if he's interested in men. Or if he'd be interested in Winston. And despite the fact they're technically coworkers and Ben's willing to be a go-between, maybe he's not willing to get romantically entangled with anyone from Mase Cap.

And it'd be easy for Winston to just beat himself up and call himself a coward for not simply acknowledging his interest in Ben and shooting his shot, but he knows that the level of rejection he often inspires in people goes beyond a simple "no." In some way it might be a relief to have Ben definitively turn him down - he'd just be able to set the crush aside and not end up pining his way to greater heartache. He's not exactly afraid of that; he'd be disappointed but completely unsurprised. It's the possibility he'd make Ben uncomfortable. His smile might flicker at the sight of Winston. He might want to avoid Winston to the point it could interfere with work somehow. Winston might have to watch Ben's expression fall once he infers Winston's meaning, and that thought alone is disheartening enough to keep him from going for it."

"He had to admit he was sometimes afraid of this, enough to linger in a relationship with someone he knew didn't even like him all that much, but who still sometimes kissed the corner of his jaw or got into bed with him."

"And, hell, maybe a cashier at a bodega near Ben's apartment is crushing on him. It's obvious just from a moment with Ben—Winston must have so much competition.

And what's he offering against anyone else? He might head a department at Taylor Mason's fund, but even that's probably not enough to make his career as a quant seem glamorous to anybody besides another quant. He blends into a crowd or even a small group; there's nothing strikingly attractive about him like there is with Ben. He's not charismatic or charming. People don't really take to him—he's been all too aware of this for a long time. Even if he were to go up to Ben and make some sort of move—try to flirt or just try to make any kind of positive, lasting impression—he'd surely just cement himself in Ben's mind as annoying, offputting, awkward, or any combination thereof.

Also, Ben might be straight. Or maybe he's already with someone. Of course Winston isn't going to go up to Mafee or Taylor and ask about Ben's sexual orientation or relationship status. But even without confirmation one way or another, there's no reason to think that Ben's available, or interested in guys, much less interested in Winston in particular.

The fact that Winston is trying to convince himself to keep his hopes down, though, probably means he's already gotten his hopes up too much."

"He was well-aware that he was lonely. And he'd had bad experiences from a setup like this - maybe leaning too hard into a crush because he was hard-up for something positive and wanted a new relationship to change things for him - and he'd simply get turned down in varyingly embarrassing ways, or spend a while agonizing over how to make any sort of move, only to eventually judge that the interest was not at all mutual, or end up with someone who wasn't that great to be with, and be stuck there for months longer than he wanted, because he was the one who wanted this in the first place."

"But he's supposed to be managing this crush, not indulging it to the point it runs away from him. So he has to be okay with the probability that he might not catch Ben's attention at all tonight, save maybe for a cursory greeting and/or goodbye. And why should he expect more? He shouldn't. But he'll put himself in the position to have a chance. Because a workplace crush is okay if he keeps himself grounded and realistic about it—if it's just some small, private embellishment to his day, harmless, just adding this aspect of fun and color to what can often be a fairly lonely and dreary workweek."

"Nowadays, with Taylor Mason Capital a supposedly temporary subsidiary of its supposedly former rival, Axe Capital, it's hard to imagine what could properly compensate for the daily stress levels. And Winston knows he doesn't have it half as hard as Taylor does - they're keeping their feet under themself as always, and it's hardly as though he never saw them unhappy, tense, or worried during their fund's first year, but there's an edge to them so frequently now, coiled and guarded, which he hates to see but completely understands. Worse, he has to be grateful for some of the additional stress they're heaping on themself. Taylor works to protect him and their other employees from not only Axe himself, but the pettiest bullies and hotshots and every struggling analyst with something to prove. It's miserable for all of them, stuck in the same office as these people who barely bother to temper their obvious antagonism.

In this situation, there's a head-turning gleam to the least silver lining. So "in having to work alongside these people, you also get to work alongside Ben Kim" is like sunshine.

Of course Winston had noticed Ben the first time the core Mase Cap team strode together into the heart of Axe Capital HQ. A guy standing at the front, obviously attractive, and the double endorsements in the form of another Axe Capper shutting him down but Mafee returning his greeting meant that Winston could admit to himself that Ben was cute. A bright smile, a baritone to make you weak in the knees - Winston had kept a wary eye on everyone and everything around him all that day, but this only made it easier to periodically glance at Ben."

"The closest he ever got to a usable moment falling into his lap was the time Ben and another Axe Capper (one of the less aggressive ones, luckily) rode the elevator up from the lobby with Winston and Lauren. Winston had been rendered incapable of speaking, but Lauren kept up a fun, relaxed exchange for the duration of the ride, and Winston at least managed to look back and forth between the others, following the conversation, and when they were two floors away Ben caught his eye and smiled and Winston immediately smiled in return and couldn't entirely stop smiling until he'd been settled in at his desk for a solid ten minutes or so - and it would've taken longer for the mood boost to dissipate if any workday's baseline stress level weren't so high."

“"But formally meeting Ben just the once was more than enough to make an impression. It wasn't a situation where Ben wasn't as nice up close and personal, or where his face fell when Winston introduced himself - in fact, he'd smiled brighter, and Winston's hand had tightened in Ben's, and once again, Ben's expression didn't sink in the slightest. Winston spent that meeting trying to play it safe - only speak when directly asked a question. And spontaneously jumped into the middle of an exchange only three times. And at the end of that meeting, Ben's lovely, kind smile hadn't closed off to him at all.

Winston doesn't like having crushes. But despite what most people think of him, he's not clueless. Which is why he knows that most people think he's clueless. And it took about twenty minutes to know he had a crush on Ben, and, within a week of having met each other's eyes and exchanged smiles, he knew his interest in Ben wasn't going to evaporate overnight. But this wasn't the first time Winston had been in this situation, and he knew better than to just sink into the warmth and fuzziness."

"As he listened, he thought Taylor seemed slightly more relaxed than usual—it was a subtle difference, and although he was usually tuned into Taylor's wavelength with precision, it also might be wishful thinking on his part, wanting to see the best in Ben, like Taylor was indirectly endorsing him."

"He's already thought about Ben like that, too. Not so much outright fantasizing as with the pleasant memories of his ex, more of just...wondering. Exploring, almost. He's had plenty of fleeting thoughts at the offices, noticing things that were attractive about Ben from afar. Watching his arms as he leaned back in his chair and stretched them overhead, focusing on the lowness of his voice when he trailed off to complete a thought in a murmur, letting himself glance at the occasional emergence of scruff along his jawline, at his lips, at the small wedge of bared skin at the open collar of a button-up. Whenever he's actually directly interacting with Ben, though, or even close enough to him, that observation of Ben's attractiveness loses granularity. He's hit with so many aspects of him at once and just gets swept up in the experience."

"Winston's generally aware when Ben drops in, even when Winston's just spending the whole day at his desk. In part because Ben tends to swing by to greet his team at some point before leaving, which...he has to do just to be nice. Nobody has any incentive to schmooze with the quants. Especially not fundamental analysts from a the fund which is only technically an affiliate because their CEO wants to feel like he's got their CEO in a cage. But Ben appears for at least a moment anyways, smiling and soft-spoken, asking if they're okay today. He never looks at Winston first but inevitably does, like he's deliberately holding off on it, and Winston meets his gaze in that moment because he's waiting for it, and Ben smiles a little wider with a nod, and Winston twitches his shoulders up and smiles faintly in return.

He's reading into these kinds of routine moments, and that means he's sitting poolside on the verge of slipping right in too deep."

"He was also told that he would need to attend such a meeting that upcoming Thursday—that he didn't have to prepare anything, or even really expect to say anything at all, but should be present in case this Axe Cap liaison had any questions regarding the quant team. Once he stepped into the meeting room and saw Ben sitting beside Sara, it immediately clicked—the beautiful, velvet-voiced man who'd been friendly to Taylor and Mafee. It made perfect sense he'd be the one willing to regularly visit Mase Cap headquarters—it just hadn't occurred to Winston to think he might be this lucky.

He'd hesitated at the sight of him, caught up in a double-take, which gave Ben plenty of time to look over and meet his gaze and at once offer a smile. Small, but still incandescant. With that alone, Winston decided he needed to figure out a word for this effect that hit him where he stood, making any sense of self-possession scatter from his grasp like dropped papers. What was it called when a moment of "a guy this cute smiling at the sight of you" caused you to careen down a tangled mental tangent of word-invention when all you should be doing is acting like a regular person who knows how to smile and nod and sit down—instead of staring breathlessly at him for half a second too long like you've never seen another person before, then be somewhat mentally overwhelmed by the task of figuring out which chair to take?

Taylor had spoken up then, offering him something of a reset by introducing him to Ben by name, then vice versa. Ben Kim, Winston had told himself, firmly suppressing any mild panic as Ben again turned to him, smiled, and leaned in to shake his hand. Don't let this keep you from remembering his name. Ben Kim, Ben Kim—his handshake was solid, but not the aggressive-assertive clasp you'd maybe expect from some random high finance businessperson wanting every interaction to be a power struggle. Hands warm. Ben Kim. Ben Kim. Winston managed to flicker a smile in return, hoping his nervous tension wasn't going to read like he was offput by Ben, or trying to act distant, or anything at all—regardless of how pleasant and attractive Ben was, it just made sense to want the Axe Cap go-between to like him, to make a good impression for Taylor's sake if nothing else. But his thumb twitched against Ben's as they ended the handshake, and Winston blinked in a flurry but couldn't make himself look away first, so they were just looked at each other for another moment, and he probably seemed ridiculous, if not incompetent."

#winston billions #benston #ft. some Elements of:#tayston

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rmnamjoons · 5 years

Text

Sunshine: Chapter 1 [KNJ]

summary: You’ve been in love with your best friend and roommate Namjoon for years, convinced friendship is all you’ll ever have with him. The two of you are set to go on vacation with your and Namjoon’s meddling friends, who all constantly insist on trying to set the two of you up.

pairing: Namjoon x female reader

tags: eventual smut, fluff, slow burn, mutual pining, seemingly unrequited (but actually not at all unrequited) love, friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, the other members are the meddling friends

warnings for this chapter: accidental voyeurism, masturbation, dirty talk, mentions of past depression

word count for this chapter: 10.8k

[read on ao3] + my masterlist

a/n: This chapter mentions and describes Namjoon’s depression. I wrote it as having been worse in the past, and that he’s now on the road to recovery. If (short) descriptions or mentions of depression trigger you, please be careful reading if you choose to do so.

Also I characterized him as being a big eater, because he’s a big boy lol

You and Namjoon had been best friends since freshman year. You’d met each other at orientation; Namjoon was a philosophy and creative writing double major, while you were aiming for a degree in teaching English. The two of you took all of your English and core classes together, which was more than definitely what laid the foundation of the all-consuming crush you still had on him.

Neither of you were big party people. Your friend group, the six other boys, loved to have a good time, but you and Namjoon preferred to stay in, choosing to have movie nights together, cuddled up on one of your dorm room beds or, later on, on the couch in your shared apartment.

You had loved him from the day you met him. How could you not? He was tall, adorably handsome in a boy-next-door way, intelligent, funny, and, more than anything, so kind and sweet. You loved the way his deep dimples revealed themselves when he laughed and smiled wide, his eyes scrunching up in joy. You loved his deep voice that was especially gentle when talking just to you. You loved how he was nerdy and a little awkward and usually more mature and serious, but could be so silly, too. You loved all the little things only you knew about him: how ticklish he was, how he didn’t eat seafood because he loved sea animals that much, how he used to be self-conscious of his big thighs even though he’s perfectly in shape, how his depression had overwhelmed him during a large part of your sophomore and junior years, but he’d started seeing a therapist and was now well on the road to recovery.

You loved him more than anything, but he didn’t love you back. Not like you loved him, at least. You were best friends, and had been for almost six years now. You knew that he cared about you and loved you like a friend, he’d told you that enough times for you to be sure of that, but you wanted to be with him — romantically, sexually, forever — and he was oblivious, thank god. You didn’t know what you’d do if he ever found out about your stupid crush on him.

In your junior year, the two of you had moved into a two-bedroom apartment together. Your friends had teased you to no end, always insisting the two of you should just get it over with and start dating. You secretly loved when they talked like that, despite Namjoon blushing and covering his face. You loved the idea that others could see the two of you being together, and your friends most definitely did and always made sure to remind you.

Now, Namjoon was getting his masters in philosophy, and you were getting a masters in English. You both wanted to end up professors, and you sometimes fantasized about the two of you teaching in classrooms next to each other and meeting between classes, holding hands and stealing kisses. You loved to daydream about his plush lips on yours, murmuring sweet little domestic phrases, just asking about dinner or how your classes were going. It made your heart hurt, thinking about him like that. You knew he’d be such a good boyfriend.

Namjoon had had a girlfriend during senior year, two years ago, which had killed you. The girl seemed so sweet, but then after three months of you being in agony, Namjoon came home one night, heartbroken, flopping down on the couch and saying that he’d just found out that the girl had been cheating on him after agreeing to be exclusive. He’d teared up, something you hadn’t seen him do in quite some time, and you’d hugged him, stroking his hair as he held onto you, shaking as he cried.

He’d asked you if he was stupid to hope that someone would love him and only him, if he was silly for wanting something serious and “forever.” You’d assured him no, he wasn’t stupid or silly, and that there were loyal people all around him and he would eventually find someone who’d love him forever. You’d wanted so badly in that moment to say, Me! That person who will love you forever and be loyal to only you is me! but you knew it would be infinitely selfish to say that in that moment, when he was hurting.

You’d never gotten the courage after that to tell him how you felt, and now here you were, over a year and a half later, still living together as just friends. Best friends, but nothing more.

You laid in bed on your lazy Saturday morning. Namjoon also had the day off, you recalled. You checked the time, seeing it was only nine thirty, and figured he had to still be asleep. The two of you had stayed up late the night before, unwinding after making it through your midterms week.

You stretched before standing up, deciding now was as good of a time as any to make some breakfast. You were feeling crafty, deciding as you brushed your teeth and got ready that you were going to attempt to make yourself and Namjoon some pancakes.

You were stirring in the chocolate chips when you heard Namjoon’s door open, and the noise made you freeze in place. You hadn’t thought he was going to wake up this early, and you quickly looked down at yourself, only wearing very short shorts, a tank top with no bra, and an open, thin silk robe that went down to your knees.

Dropping the spoon in the bowl, you jumped and tied your robe closed, hoping to at least spare him the fact you were very braless.

He walked around the corner and you glanced over, seeing him rubbing his eyes. He was wearing just boxers and a white t-shirt, his dark brown hair a little mussed up from sleeping well, his black glasses on his face slightly crooked.

“Mmm, waffles? Pancakes? What’re you making, sunshine?” His voice was deep, warm, and grumbly in the mornings, and it made your heart melt. You smiled at his nickname for you — he’d come up with it during junior year, saying he was the moon and you were his sun, and he called you variations of that occasionally, making you fall in love with him more and more every single time.

“Pancakes,” you confirmed, back to stirring again, careful not to turn toward him. You knew your silk robe wasn’t much of a barrier; you’d been around him braless plenty of times, but never in such thin clothes.

“Smells good,” he murmured, and you felt Namjoon’s warmth behind you now, his hand on your shoulder as he peered over you at what you were making.

“I haven’t even started cooking it yet,” you laughed.

“Can I try the batter?” he asked, and you glanced back at him, eyebrow raised. He put out his bottom lip in a pout, batting his eyes at you.

“It’s not going to taste very good, but sure,” you said, holding up the spoon for him to take. Instead of taking it from you, though, he just leaned in and licked the spoon, closing his eyes as his tongue widened to lick the entire width of it, a teasing smile on his lips like he thought he was being funny.

“You’re gross,” you laughed, fighting not to bite your lip as you watched him lick his perfect plush lips where a little batter had accidentally spread.

“Tastes fine to me,” he said, giving you a look like he was proud of himself. “And it’s not gross. We eat raw cookie dough all the time.”

“That is different and you know it,” you defended, rinsing the spoon off in the sink before grabbing a small ladle for moving the batter to the frying pan currently heating up.

“Now I’m just thinking about cookies. Can you make cookies later today, sunshine? Pretty please?” Namjoon leaned against the opposite counter behind you, watching as you scooped the first batch into the pan, a soft sizzling sound filling the air.

You weren’t surprised by his request. Namjoon’s sweet tooth was insatiable — you’d once even caught him eating a spoonful of straight sugar. He was half the reason you’d loaded the pancakes with chocolate chips.

“Depends,” you said slowly, hiding your smile, still not turning around to face him as you worked. “What’s in it for me? Seems a lot like me just cooking for you all day.”

“We can get delivery for lunch and I’ll pay for it, and I’ll do all the dishes today,” he offered, and you felt like that was more than a fair trade. Besides, you would always cook for him, even without anything in return. You loved doing things like this for him; it gave you little moments where you could pretend his excited gratitude was more than just friendly.

“Deal.”

“Ah, you’re the best!” You felt him come up behind you, wrapping his arms around your stomach and squeezing. You had been in the middle of starting to flip the first pancake, which you somehow managed to not drop as you jumped slightly from his surprise hug. You felt his large, firm body pressed into your back, his big arms squeezing you, his nose pressed in against the skin behind your ear. You were so surprised, unable to even register it was happening until it was over.

He let go of you just as quickly as he’d grabbed you, stepping back. You glanced over your shoulder at him and saw him beaming, his warm smile spreading to you as well.

The two of you ate your breakfast together at your little kitchen table. Namjoon was cheerful and chatty, telling you how good your pancakes were, just as he always did when you cooked something for him. He was a big eater, and you did really enjoy cooking, so you were more than happy to cook for him whenever he wanted. Despite his best efforts, he was dreadful in the kitchen, managing to burn or break everything he touched even under careful supervision. You had originally wanted to teach him how to be self-sufficient, worried you’d moved in with a man who didn’t know anything about taking care of himself. You very quickly learned that he was perfectly self-sufficient and tidy, cleaning around the house regularly without having to be asked. It was just cooking. He couldn’t do it to save his life. You often traded chores — Namjoon offering to clean more in exchange for more of your cooking. You couldn’t complain about that. You enjoyed cooking, you enjoyed getting to eat more meals with Namjoon, he was extra sweet when you cooked his favorites, and you didn’t have to clean as much.

Namjoon ended up eating about triple the pancakes you did. Afterwards, he was leaning back in his chair, a drowsy look on his face as he rubbed his stomach with one hand.

“You look like a cartoon character who ate way too much,” you teased, watching him fighting to keep his eyes open.

“I feel like a cartoon character who ate way too much,” he grumbled. He stood, taking his plate to the kitchen, and then stumbled into the living room and collapsed facedown on the couch, letting out a long groan.

“Still want cookies? I could whip some up right now,” you said, just to hear him let out another groan.

You put your plate in the sink too. You went out to the living room and lifted Namjoon’s feet, sitting down and letting his legs fall across your lap, resting your hands on the backs of his calves.

You looked up at him, letting yourself for just a second check out his cute little ass in his boxers. You hadn’t seen so far up the back of his thighs before now, and you had to say you loved the view. His legs were so muscular, his thighs so thick — how could a man just walk around, existing looking like this?

“Y/N, don’t let me eat that much ever again,” he grumbled, pulling you from your thoughts.

“You always say that, and then the next time rolls around and you say, ‘No, it’s fine, sunshine, I know how much I can eat,’ and then this just happens again,” you said, teasing him, bringing your voice down as deep as you could for your impression of his voice.

“Ugh,” he groaned, twisting to lay on his back instead, throwing his arm across his eyes. “Your cooking’s too good, and you know I don’t have self control with your food. That’s what you’re here for.”

“To be your self control?” you said, and you looked over at his body — his t-shirt had ridden up slightly, showing off a thin line of his stomach between his shirt and boxers. One of his large hands rested on his stomach, and your mouth was all but watering just looking at the thick vein on top of it, his long fingers, how big he was…

“Exactly,” he said, and your eyes snapped back up to his face as he moved his arm away, looking at you now. Despite his grumbling, he looked happy, contented. This was one of your favorite of his habits — he talked and talked and talked, very occasionally sounding like he was complaining, but more just saying every thought that entered his head. You heard him mumbling to himself a lot around the house, and you loved it. In your eyes, he was too cute for words.

“I’m wanna nap,” Namjoon said.

“Didn’t you just wake up?” you asked, laughing at him.

“Yeah, but now I’m so full and lethargic, I just wanna sleep. We woke up too early.” He was pouting again, like a child, his eyes starting to droop closed, but he smiled when he saw you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Suit yourself,” you said, lifting his legs again to let yourself get up.

You walked into the kitchen again and turned on the sink, getting started on all the dishes you’d dirtied making your big breakfast.

“No,” Namjoon grumbled, and you heard him roll off the couch and onto the floor, moving clumsily toward you. “Don’t do the dishes, that’s my job.”

“I thought you were going to sleep,” you said, not looking back at him as you picked up the sponge and put a dollop of dish soap on it.

“I can do the dishes after I sleep. Don’t do them, Y/N.” He tried to take the sponge from your hand, but you moved it away from him.

“Why? Are you afraid I won’t make you cookies if I do the dishes?” You laughed as he tried to grab the sponge again. Turning away from him, you held the sponge at arms length away from him as he tried to reach around you and take it.

“Don’t threaten my cookies,” he said, and he eventually gave up on your game, choosing instead to grab you around your waist and pull you to him, now easily able to reach the sponge.

“Hey!” you exclaimed as he took it from you, now holding it above his head as you tried to reach up for it to take it back. You jumped, trying to grab the sponge, not realizing that your robe had fallen open.

You saw the soapy water rolling down his arm and the way he bit his lip. You knew he was ticklish and wouldn’t last with his arm up like that, sudsy water running down the sensitive skin of his arm.

Instead of jumping, you tried playing dirty. You went for his armpit, since his arm was up, after all, and tickled him. He gasped, unfortunately both bringing his arm down and squeezing the sponge in his fist in his reaction to being tickled, covering your front in soapy water in the process.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he laughed, and you were laughing too, the situation too funny to you. He put his hands up as if he wanted to help, his eyes on where the water had dripped, but he stopped as if catching himself, pulling his hands back quickly. You looked down to where he’d been looking.

Your robe had fallen open when you’d jumped, and the soapy water was glistening on your chest and through your thin tank top. It wasn’t exactly warm in your apartment right now, and the cold water was not helping, so you knew he could very clearly see your nipples through the shirt. You quickly closed the robe in front of you, feeling your whole body blushing.

Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the ground, murmuring another, “Sorry,” quietly, apologizing for looking.

“It’s fine,” you said, unable to look up at him, too. You turned around as you quickly tied the robe closed, much tighter than before, making sure to double-knot it.

Namjoon didn’t say anything else, but you heard him move and turn on the sink. When you looked back at him, you saw him starting to wash the pan you’d used to make the pancakes. His cheeks and ears were a deep shade of red, and he glanced your way when you turned around, but didn’t make eye contact.

While Namjoon washed the dishes, you went into your bedroom and put on a sports bra and then a t-shirt. You figured you’d traumatized your poor roommate enough for one day.

After that, the awkwardness of that moment quickly melted away as the two of you went through the rest of your Saturday together. Since midterms were over, you were drawing ever-closer to the spring break trip your friend group had convinced the two of you to go on. You and Namjoon agreed to go shopping tomorrow for any last minute things you’d need, like snacks and sunscreen.

The eight of you had rented a four bedroom beach house in a cheesy overly-touristy town, and were set to start out on the seven hour drive very, very early next Saturday morning. You had suggested that you all skip classes the day before, since most classes were cancelled anyway, but Jin, halfway through med school, said there was no way he would skip even a single class, so you all stayed set leaving on Saturday.

You and Namjoon were going in one car, while Jin, Yoongi, and Hoseok were in one, and the youngest three, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook were in another. You had briefly discussed renting a van to drive down all together, but thought it would be wise to have multiple vehicles down there, to allow you all to be able to split off and do different things if you wanted. You were also thankful for being able to spend a lot of time with just Namjoon. You weren’t sure if you were capable of surviving a seven hour car ride with any of the younger boys, especially all of them together.

Namjoon seemed very excited about the trip. You wondered if he’d forgotten about the fact that the two of you had agreed to share a room. The argument presented by the other boys was that a five bedroom beach house was so much more expensive, and the two of you already lived together anyway, so who cares about sharing a room for a week. When Taehyung had booked the beach house, he’d assured you that you all had rooms with two double beds. So it would be fine.

That afternoon, as you started mixing together Namjoon’s favorite cookies, you briefly let your mind wander to what Namjoon would look like in just his swim trunks. You’d seen him shirtless before, but that was years ago, before he’d really started working out. He wasn’t a bodybuilder type by any means and was still the lanky boy you’d fallen in love with, but you saw the way his shirts were fitting him nowadays, how his arms and chest filled them out so well and his shoulders had become so broad. And you knew what he looked like in his thin, tight white shirts, how his chest had become so defined and almost beefy. You nearly started drooling, just thinking about his toned chest, his wide shoulders, what he’d look like if his swim trunks were low on his hips, showing off his lower stomach, his body dripping wet and glistening in the sun…

You sighed. You couldn’t do this. You needed to not think about him, because thinking about him like that just led to you wanting him when you knew you could never have him.

About five minutes after you put the cookies in the oven, Namjoon came out of his room, holding a book with his finger between the pages marking his place, his glasses falling down his button nose.

“Do I smell cookies?” he said, his smile playful and knowing.

“Yes, and I left you the bowl and spoon, if you want,” you said, motioning toward it on the counter.

“Oh, I love you,” he said, stepping forward quickly and putting his book down, picking up the bowl and spoon and getting started, running his fingers along the bowl and bringing cookie dough up to his mouth.

You smiled as you watched him. How had you gotten so lucky? Even just being his friend and roommate, you felt blessed to be able to be near him and see him in his cute moments like this. As he ate the cookie dough, he smiled up at you, closing his eyes and scrunching his nose.

“With all the sweets we’re eating today, we should make tomorrow a gym day,” you joked, leaning back against the counter.

“We could go on a hike, since it’s warmer now,” he offered. “I heard the trail at Rock Creek opened for the season.”

“Maybe we should take it easy on the hiking so close before vacation,” you said, smiling. “We could do something more chill, like the flat nature trail by the wharf, or swimming.”

“Hey, you’re the one that wanted to work out,” he said. “I’m happy gaining weight from chocolate chip cookies and pancakes.”

“Surely there’s a happy medium,” you laughed, reaching over and running a finger along the bottom of the bowl, collecting some cookie dough before bringing your finger to your mouth.

“Nope,” he said, his mouth full. “It’s cookies or hiking. No in between.”

You reached forward and pinched at his side, making him writhe and twist away.

“I thought you learned your lesson earlier about tickling me,” he laughed, stepping back out of your reach.

“I was just wiping my finger on your shirt,” you said, holding up the finger you’d used to pinch him, which you’d also just licked cookie dough off of.

“Blegh,” Namjoon whined, though you could still see his smile. He set the bowl down and licked his palm and started to reach out for you, and you took a step back, your eyes wide, still grinning.

“Don’t even think about it,” you said, putting up your hands in defense, but he moved forward, chasing you around the kitchen and out into the living room.

You ran out toward the couch, laughing as you tried to get away from him. When he caught you, he pulled you back against him, falling on the couch and pulling you down with him so that you laid across his lap.

“Caught you,” he said, breathing hard from his exertion. He smirked as he rubbed his hand he’d licked around your shirt over your stomach, which immediately shifted into him tickling your stomach as you gasped and giggled, writhing in his arms.

“No!” you laughed, closing your eyes and trying to twist away.

“This is payback!” He tickled your stomach ruthlessly, holding onto you when you instinctively tried to twist away from him, though your heart was soaring right now.

“I made you cookies!” you cried, and that made Namjoon stop and seem to consider for a moment.

You took the brief pause as a moment to catch your breath. You were gasping, still laying across his lap, and looking up at him you were certain he’d never looked more beautiful to you.

“You’re right,” Namjoon said, nodding. “How can you ever forgive me?”

“You have to do the dishes forever,” you said, crossing your arms. You knew you must look ridiculous, laying in his lap like this and attempting to be serious, but you tried to ignore that.

“I already do all the dishes. Try again.”

“Hmm… You’ll have to buy me something nice while we’re at the beach.”

“Fine,” he said, and he pulled you up, turning you and setting you upright on the couch. “Set your price.”

“Five hundred dollars,” you said, smiling, and Namjoon snorted.

“Set a better price.”

“Okay, okay. How about like twenty dollars?” You batted your eyelashes at him and pouted, and he looked down, almost looking bashful with his small smile.

“I’m willing to go a little higher than that, but okay. I’ll let you pick out whatever you want, to repent for my sins.”

“We’ll have to do that when we’re off on our own, otherwise the boys will see and think you’re my sugar daddy, and they will never let us live that one down,” you said, moving to sit crosslegged. The two of you were still sitting close to each other, your knee against his leg.

“Oh, god, you’re right,” he said, making a face. “They still haven’t let us forget about that Halloween where I was a vampire and you were a vampire victim. What were we thinking?”

“I thought it was a fun idea! Halloween is gory and fun!” you defended, and Namjoon laughed.

“Your outfit did not help,” he said, and you smiled, remembering the white low-cut dress you’d worn and how you’d covered your neck in fake blood that had been way runnier than you’d expected and accidentally dripped down your chest. You’d thought it was fun and that you looked like the classic Dracula victim from old horror movies, while Namjoon had dressed as a stereotypical vampire, with the cape, fake teeth, his dark hair slicked back, fake blood coming out of the corners of his mouth. But your friends, especially the younger boys, had taken your costumes as written confessions of the two of you secretly fucking. Maybe you had secretly wanted people to think you were together, but that didn’t mean you wanted the boys to tease you and Namjoon to no end.

“What are you trying to say about my outfit?” you said, crossing you arms in fake offense. You remembered Taehyung had said you’d looked like a porn star, to which Namjoon had smacked the back of his head and made him apologize. You knew your outfit had made an impression, to say the least.

“You looked like the damsel on the cover of an old horror romance novel,” he tried to defend, though you weren't sure where he was going with that. “The kids were already excited about us dressing like a couple, and on top of that you wore something you normally wouldn’t, which got them all excited. I think a few of them have crushes on you.”

“I think a few of them have crushes on you, too,” you combatted. You were very convinced that Jin and Jungkook were both in love with Namjoon, though that may just be you projecting your own feelings onto them.

“Oh, come on. Nobody has a crush on me,” Namjoon said, rolling his eyes.

You threw a pillow at him. “No being mean to yourself allowed in this house,” you said, making him laugh.

“I’m not being mean, it’s just the truth,” he said, but you could see a sadness in his eyes.

Namjoon cleared his throat, sitting up straighter, now hugging the pillow you’d thrown at him.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked. You let him change the topic, since he was clearly uncomfortable with the one you had been on.

“You mean you want something besides chocolate chip cookies?” you said, fake-gasping.

“As good as they are, I really want something savory. How about Chinese? I’ll get it this time.” Namjoon seemed much more relaxed now already, which you were grateful for. You knew he could be kind of sensitive sometimes, turning in on himself and withdrawing when he felt bad.

“Takeout again? And you already paid for my lunch. My my, are you made of money?” you teased.

“You’re right. The seven dollars I’d spend on your dinner would absolutely break me,” Namjoon laughed, and you watched as he stood up, walking over to the kitchen where the two of you kept takeout menus. “Besides, we can’t go grocery shopping so close before a trip. It would all go to waste.”

“We’re not leaving for another week!” you called back, laughing at his attempt at logic.

“Too late, I already picked up the menu,” he said, walking back over with the menu to your and his favorite Chinese place. “Do you want your usual?”

“Yes, please, and thank you, Joonie,” you said, closing your eyes and giving him a big smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, and he ruffled your hair as if you were a child before dialing up the restaurant on his phone.

You loved him so much, sometimes you couldn’t stand it. The two of you hadn’t spent a whole day together like this in so long, and you’d seen even less of each other than normal during midterms. You’d missed him, missed having time together like this.

As Namjoon made the call for your dinner to be delivered, you pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your legs as you watched him pacing. You were so comfortable together. Dating him, being with him, would be so easy. So few changes would happen — just adding sex and more affection to your already wonderful relationship. You wanted him so badly, your heart yearned for it, for him.

You wondered what kind of world you’d have to live in or what version of yourself you’d have to be for Namjoon to want you. A man like him would never want you. You were smart, but he was a genius. You were okay looking, but he was gorgeous. You tried to be a nice person, but he was so genuinely kind-hearted and good. He was just better than you. You knew he deserved the best of the best in all aspects of his life, and you wanted to give that to him, but you couldn’t help feeling like he deserved better than you. It didn’t matter anyway, because he’d never like you.

After Namjoon ordered your food, you got the cookies out of the oven and started a movie. You couldn’t believe he’d never seen The Little Mermaid, and you’d teased him, saying he’d love it because it had a crab character. You weren’t very far in when your meals arrived, and Namjoon paused the movie, saying he didn’t want to miss anything.

Namjoon ended up loving the movie, just like you knew he would. He always got so invested in movies, it was adorable.

The two of you sat on the couch, his arm thrown over the back of it, resting just above your shoulders. Your legs were bent, your knees resting on Namjoon’s legs. You weren’t quite cuddling, but to you, this was everything.

At the end of the movie, Namjoon put his hand on your knee.

“That was fun. I can’t believe I hadn’t seen it,” he said, and you could only think about his big hand on your bare skin.

“I knew you’d like it. You love silly things,” you said, smirking.

“Yeah, that’s why I love you, sunshine,” he teased right back, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Wow,” you said flatly, pretending to be offended, but you couldn’t stop repeating what he’d said over and over in your head. You knew he’d been joking, but god, it felt good to hear him say those words.

“Want to watch another one?” Namjoon asked, picking up his phone. “It’s only nine. We could make it a mini-Disney marathon.”

“Sure,” you said, nodding. Your brain wasn’t working too good right now, so maybe picking another movie instead of talking to him would be a good idea.

“Is there one you haven’t seen?” he said, now scrolling through the on-demand list of Disney movies.

“I think I’ve seen most of them, but I haven’t seen any of the older ones in a really long time,” you said, attempting to focus. That’s why I love you, sunshine. Oh, god.

“I don’t think I’ve seen Cinderella,” he said, stopping on that one. “I mean, I’m sure I did when I was little. I don’t really remember it though, outside of pop culture, obviously.”

“That sounds good,” you said quickly, nodding eagerly. I love you, sunshine. You kept repeating what he’d said, hearing his deep rumbly voice in your head again and again. Why were you acting like this? You’d heard him say that before, though never with his petname for you at the same time. Why did it feel so much better now, cuddled up with him like this?

“I’m gonna grab some cookies real quick,” he said, hopping up.

“Okay,” you said, your voice dazed.

While he was in the kitchen, you picked up your phone from the coffee table, checking it for the first time in hours.

The group chat you had with your friends had blown up while you and Namjoon had been off on your own. You tried scrolling back to the beginning, but gave up halfway through and started just reading whatever and hoping you’d figure it out from the context.

7:44 - Taetae: i bet they’re fucking asdlkfjdslkj

7:46 - Taetae: i just tried texting both of them individually and neither answered. they Fuckin

7:46 - JK: joon’s finally giving it to her 😩🍆💦

7:46 - Yoongi: please remove me from this group chat

7:47 - Chimchim: guys what if they’re dead

7:47 - Taetae: joon’s giving his sunny THAT D

7:48 - Yoongi: i am begging you all to stop

7:49 - Chimchim: guys i’m really worried, what if something happened

7:50 - JK: oh we already know what’s happening

7:50 - Hobi: leave them alone guys, mom and dad deserve a break too

You started scrolling down through the chat faster, just skimming. You could see that when you’d finished your movie and Namjoon had checked his phone, he’d finally texted them and put Jimin out of his misery.

8:54 - Joonie: jimin, we’re fine. and no we’re not fucking

8:54 - Taetae: IT LIVES

8:54 - JK: finally stopping for a break, tiger? i’m sure y/n needs one, you’ve been gone a while 😉

8:55 - Joonie: shut up

8:55 - Chimchim: aww he’s sensitive

8:56 - Joonie: says the guy who spent the last hour crying because his friends didn’t text him back fast enough?

8:56 - Taetae: OOF 🔥

8:56 - Hobi: goddamn joon

With that, you had caught up, though you’d skipped more than eighty percent of the chat. You had a feeling you hadn’t missed much.

8:59 - y/n: awww did little baby jimin get his feelings hurt?

8:59 - Chimchim: not you too mom!!!

8:59 - Taetae: 😭😭😭

You heard Namjoon snort in the kitchen as he read your text. He came back out then, carrying a plate he’d piled up with cookies that he laid on his legs as he sat down right beside you.

Namjoon took the remote and started the movie, and leaned back, taking a picture with his phone of the plate of cookies, the Disney logo on the screen, and both his and your legs propped up on the coffee table, and then sent that to the chat.

8:59 - Joonie: this is what we were doing, by the way

9:00 - JK: MOM AND DAD ARE HAVING DATE NIGHT

9:00 - Hobi: if you meant for that to make them stop making fun of you guys, you do not know them at all

9:01 - Taetae: you guys are too cute i’m actually throwing up

9:02 - Yoongi: aww, congrats to the happy couple

9:02 - y/n: wow

“Did you mean for that to help our case?” you laughed, scrolling back up to the picture he’d sent.

“I thought it would,” he said, shrugging. “We’re not doing anything bad, like they were saying.”

“We’re gonna hear about this one a lot next week,” you said, laughing as you tossed your phone aside.

The movie wasn’t very long, but about halfway through, you caught yourself dozing off. You snuggled in beside Namjoon, leaning on his arm.

God, he was so comfortable, and so so warm. You’d almost forgotten that he was like a furnace, the heat radiating off of him and making you even drowsier. Snuggling with him on the couch felt so natural; even in your mostly asleep state, you felt so happy and contented, knowing you were doing something rare and special, cuddling with him like this as you drifted off to sleep.

A while later, you were vaguely aware the movie was ending in the background. You suddenly became much more aware, however, when your sleepy brain realized you were hugging Namjoon’s arm like a teddy bear, possibly drooling on his sleeve.

You shifted away from him, rubbing your eyes with your hands.

“Well, hello, Sleeping Beauty,” Namjoon said, looking over at you as he turned off the television.

“Wrong movie,” you mumbled, not able to fully open your eyes yet.

Namjoon set the mostly empty plate of cookies on the coffee table and stood, turning to you and offering both hands to help you up. You took them, and he pulled you to your feet just a little too fast, making you wobble.

Namjoon put his arm around your waist, steadying you.

“Easy there, Bambi,” he said, and you wanted to hit his arm.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you mumbled, hiding the small smile now on your face.

“Okay, okay,” he said, and he stepped around the couch, carrying the cookie plate to the kitchen. You watched him as he walked, admiring the movement of his hips, the way his muscles in his legs moved, the large expanse of his back and wide shoulders.

You decided that tonight was going to be special.

Grabbing your phone and telling Namjoon goodnight, you headed straight to your room. You were still sleepy, but you wanted to do something that would help you sleep even better.

You locked your door and went to you underwear drawer, pulling out your trusty vibrator. You hadn’t used it in weeks, but what the hell, why not treat yourself? Namjoon had been extra sexy today, so you deserved it.

You took off your shorts and laid down on your bed. Letting your eyes fall closed, you thought about Namjoon’s large hands, his long fingers, the thick vein on the top of his right hand that you always loved to stare at. You touched your breasts, squirming slightly as you imagined it was his big hands instead of your small ones, his body on top of yours as he touched you.

You trailed your hand down your stomach, letting your fingertips trail over your skin as you bit your lip in anticipation. Ducking your hand down below your panties, you rubbed two fingers around your clit, already wet just from being near Namjoon all day and thinking about him like this.

You thought about his plush lips and the way his jaw moved when he ate. Fuck, how could a man look that good eating? You always wished you could push his plate onto the floor, lay down on the table in front of him with your legs spread open, and tell him to keep eating.

Thinking about his tongue, you slid your panties off and turned your vibrator on.

Living with your parents, in a dorm with thin walls, and then here with Namjoon, you knew how to be quiet. You sometimes struggled when you used your toy, though, especially when you were worked up thinking about Namjoon and his long fingers and big soft lips, or trying to imagine what his cock looked like.

You let out a small whimper as you slid your vibrator inside your pussy. It wasn’t very big, but you slid it in and out while rubbing your clit, and you kept your eyes closed tight, thinking about vague parts of Namjoon’s body — his warm, expressive eyes, his wide shoulders, how damn big he was, his deep honey voice.

“Namjoon,” you hummed, just barely audible, and you raised your hips off the bed, fucking yourself on your vibrator as if you were moving underneath him.

You tried to imagine what his cock would look like, feel like. You knew he was big — you’d seen him in his light gray sweatpants enough times to know that much. Besides, he was by far the tallest in your friend group, and with those big hands and his big feet, he had to at least be proportional. You imagined his thick, velvety cock pounding into you, stretching you out, fucking you so hard and you let out a whimper, pushing your vibrator deeper, searching out your g-spot as you moved your fingers on your clit faster and harder.

You didn’t last long. Thinking about that morning, when he’d hugged you from behind and tickled you and everything else he’d done, you imagined him bending you over your kitchen table and that made you fall over the edge, gasping silently, the vibrator quickly becoming way too much stimuli for your sensitive body.

You took in deep, shaky breaths, still slowly moving your fingers around your clit, drawing out your pleasure.

You let yourself relax for a few moments before getting up to go to the bathroom and clean up. You slid your shorts back on, made sure nothing looked too out of place, and then unlocked your door and went back out into your and Namjoon’s shared space, on your way to the one bathroom you had in the apartment.

It would be just your luck that Namjoon had decided to take a shower.

You sighed, turning to go back to your room to wait for him to finish, but just as you started to turn away, you heard him.

Namjoon was moaning.

You raised your eyebrows about to your hairline, your lips parting as you realized exactly what he was doing in your shared shower. His moans were steady, almost as if with every exhale. He sounded like he was close.

You felt a new rush of wetness in your pussy, your mouth falling open as you listened to his absolutely obscene sounds. You were pretty sure you could go back into your bedroom and go for round two right now. But you didn’t. You hated yourself for it, but you were frozen in place, listening to his sounds through the thin bathroom door.

You took a small step closer, not quite pressing your ear to the door. You could almost hear the sound of his fist moving hard on his length, his pace brutal at this point as his moans echoed off the tile walls over the sound of the running water. Fuck, why did he moan so loud? He was killing you, he sounded so good. You squeezed your legs together where you stood, your breath catching in your throat.

“Mmm, baby, just like that…” Namjoon’s deep voice groaned.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Was he imagining someone? You weren't sure you could bear to listen to this; the jealousy would kill you if you knew for a fact he was actively fantasizing about other people. You liked to live in your fantasy world, frozen in time, where Namjoon wasn’t interested in anybody and nobody besides you was interested in him. You knew he’d never want you, but if you had nothing to spark your jealousy, you were happy enough.

He kept moaning, and you bit your lip.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so fucking good…”

Your heart might’ve just stopped. What the fuck?

“Mmm, oh… Good girl. Fuck, baby, I’m so close…” He kept moaning, his deep voice raising slightly in pitch, his breathing coming faster. “Y/N…” He stuttered out your name as he came, letting out a long groan, his breathing ragged. He sounded like he’d cum hard, and you could just imagine him: eyes squeezed closed, his mouth open as he breathed hard, his skin flushed from his exertion, the water from the shower dripping down his perfect naked body.

You heard him sigh, and you decided that was your cue to skitter back to your room and hide, locking your door behind you.

You weren't sure your brain was processing things properly right now. That had to have been a dream, or some extended fantasy from when you’d masturbated. Maybe you’d passed out with your vibrator still in your pussy, and this was your desperate mind reacting to that, like a vibrator-induced horny fever dream. That had to be what happened.

You sat on the edge of your bed. You were throbbing for him, your pussy practically dripping down your legs.

Fuck it.

You laid back on your bed. You didn’t bother with the vibrator this time, instead going straight for pushing three fingers into yourself, curling them as deep as you could as you brought your other hand down to rub your clit. You knew your poor clit was going to be sore tomorrow, and you didn’t care.

You played the sounds he’d made over and over in your head, the deep timber of his voice, the way he’d said your fucking name as he’d cum. You tried to imagine his cock as he stroked it. You wondered if he’d cum on your shower tiles or onto his hand, or maybe up onto his stomach. You wanted him to shoot his hot cum all over your face, or stuff you full of it as he pounded into you.

You imagined yourself in the shower with him, on your knees under the spray of the warm water. You wanted to lick his cum off of his stomach. You wanted to take his cock in your mouth and look up at him with big innocent eyes as you took all of him, your nose pressing into his pubic hair as the head of his cock pressed into the back of your throat. You’d draw from him the same noises he’d made touching himself, and he wouldn’t be able to help himself; he’d grab your head with both hands and fuck your mouth, and you’d take him, you’d do whatever he wanted, because you were his and always would be.

You murmured his name, over and over like a prayer as you fucked yourself on your fingers. Your whole body shook when you came — you gasped loudly, probably too loud, and moved your fingers steadily, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm you could, imagining Namjoon’s face in pleasure as your back arched up off the bed, your toes curling from your earth-shattering orgasm.

You laid on your bed, your chest rising and falling lazily as you let your mind wander over what you’d heard.

There was no way. You had to have misheard him, or imagined it, or, or… something. Or, if you hadn’t misheard, there was no way he meant it. Maybe it was real, but he was just having something like a sex dream. People couldn’t help what they thought of in those, right? You’d had a sex dream about Jungkook once, and you most definitely had not meant or wanted that. That’s probably what it was. It had to be.

You heard Namjoon walking around, closing the door to the bathroom and walking into his room. You’d seen him make that journey a few times, though you always made sure not to look. He always liked to get dressed in his room, so he just wore a towel wrapped low around his hips. The very few times you’d dared a short glance, you’d seen his back, glistening with water from his shower. You imagined him now like that, shirtless, dripping wet, only the thin little white towel blocking your view of his perfect body.

You were not going to sleep that night, you already knew it.

You got up and finally went to the bathroom to clean up, pee, and get ready for bed.

As you sat on the toilet, you stared at the shower, where Namjoon had just been, moaning your name as he came. Had he needed to take a moment to clean his cum off of those shower tiles? It hadn’t even been ten minutes since your best friend, the man you were in love with, had moaned your name right there.

You washed your hands, put on lotion, and brushed your teeth, glancing over at the shower every few moments. You still just couldn’t believe it. It felt too unreal.

“Hey, you,” Namjoon’s deep voice suddenly said, pushing open the bathroom door you’d cracked while brushing your teeth. His voice was deeper than usual, undoubtably in his post-orgasm haze, and you could not make yourself look at him.

“Hey!” you said, way too peppy, overcompensating for how awkward you felt as you stared down at the sink. You spat out your toothpaste and rinsed your mouth out while Namjoon moved behind you, reaching around you to pick up his own toothbrush.

“You smell good,” he said, probably trying to kill you, you figured.

“Oh, uh, I just put on lotion.” You pointed to your side of the counter at your scented lotion.

“Hmm,” he said, his toothbrush now in his mouth, and you finally let yourself look up at his face.

He was absolutely glowing, which you figured was normal, considering what he’d just done, but you swore you had never been more attracted to him than this exact moment. His skin looked so healthy, his expression relaxed and contented, his eyes meeting yours and giving you a warm smile. The t-shirt he’d thrown on showed off those wide shoulders you loved so much. His mouth was slightly open as he brushed his teeth, his plump lips taunting you. Maybe his pheromones were mixing in the air with yours or something, but Christ, he looked like sex on legs.

“Good night,” you said quickly, and you ducked out of the room and ran back to your bedroom, away from that awful, sexy, shameless man.

~:~:~

The next morning, you laid in your bed for at least an hour after waking up.

There was no way you’d be able to face him after last night. You still couldn’t believe him, what he’d done, and how right afterwards he’d pretended like everything was normal. You didn’t even let yourself think about him jacking off in the shower while moaning your name — you were now focused on how he’d been so casual afterwards.

The two of you were supposed to go shopping today. You wondered if you could pretend to be sick, though you figured you’d have to eventually face him. God, how were you supposed to share a room with him next week?

You got out of bed and quickly ran to the bathroom, hoping to not run into him on the way there. Maybe you’d be lucky, and Namjoon would have something going on today that he’d forgotten about.

You got ready and begrudgingly went out into your shared living space. You saw Namjoon, surprisingly already awake, and in the kitchen, even more surprisingly. He was standing in front of the stovetop, and… oh no.

“Woah,” you said, stepping closer cautiously. “Are you cooking?”

“Hey, morning, sunshine,” he said happily, looking up at you. He was making scrambled eggs, which actually didn’t look terrible. “I’m making us some breakfast before we head out. You wanted to go to the outlets, right?”

You vaguely remembered mentioning the outlet mall to him, but had forgotten about that completely in the last twenty-four hours. The outlets were about a half an hour away, which meant time alone in a car, with him.

“Oh, um, yeah,” you said weakly.

“I’m excited. I realized the other day that I don’t actually have any swim trunks that fit anymore, so I really need to get some. Plus I want some Hawaiian shirts. I really want to embrace this cheesy tourist vibe you told us this town has. Maybe I’ll buy a fanny pack.”

You snorted. You should’ve figured Namjoon’s silliness would immediately take away any awkwardness you felt.

“If you get one, I’ll get one too. We can match.”

“Perfect,” he said, beaming at you. He picked up one of the plates he’d set out and scooped half of the scrambled eggs onto it. He’d made what looked like enough for an army, and you most certainly did not need half of that much, but you thanked him anyway and took your plate over to the table.

You ate together happily, calmly, your conversation friendly and normal. As if you both hadn’t masturbated less than twelve hours ago while moaning each other’s names. You wondered briefly how Namjoon would’ve reacted if your roles were reversed, if he had been the one to hear you instead, but you quickly pushed that thought away.

After breakfast, you got dressed and ready for the day. You felt an urge to look extra pretty today, thinking you’d give Namjoon something to moan about if he was going to make a habit of masturbating while thinking of you. Why had he done that yesterday of all days? You’d just laid around all day in pajamas, eating junk food and joking around. If you had been at a party or something where you were wearing a short dress, then yeah, that might make a little more sense. Whatever! It didn’t have to make sense in your mind. You figured it was a fluke anyway, so what did it matter what his reasoning was?

You dolled yourself up with makeup, putting on way more than usual, as if you were going to a job interview or something important. Unlike a job interview, however, you wore a tight little pink crop top and tiny high-waisted shorts, and tied a black choker around your neck. You let your hair stay down, but pinned a few strands back, framing your face. You were going for a sex doll kind of look today, hoping Namjoon would appreciate it.

“Ready?” you called out as you left your room, closing your door behind you.

“Yeah,” Namjoon said, standing in the living room looking at his phone.

When he looked up at you, you swore he did an honest to god double take. You watched his eyes widen and move down your body before snapping back up to your face, as if he’d caught himself doing something he shouldn’t by looking at you.

You left for the outlets, stopping on your way to get Starbucks through the drive-thru. Namjoon paid, again, and you wondered if this Twilight Zone world you’d woken up in yesterday — with him paying for everything and tickling you and jacking off to you — was just going to be your new normal.

You drove, and Namjoon played his music. You both liked rap, though Namjoon was the one who introduced you to a lot of the songs you liked, while he liked exploring more deeply on his own. You talked some over the music, about your plans for the beach, your friends, dinner — just casual, friendly things.

You glanced his way more than a few times when you sat at stoplights. He was in light jeans that fit his big thighs so well, a thin t-shirt that showed off his toned chest, and he was wearing his glasses again today, which you loved. He’d put just a little product in his hair, smoothing it all back off of his forehead, and you wanted to run both of your hands through his perfect hair.

By the time you got to the outlet, it had started to rain, which both of you had not planned for at all. The outlet was an outdoor mall, and Namjoon offered to run into a store and buy an umbrella, but you figured the rain probably wouldn’t last too long anyway. You decided together that you could just run to the first store and wait there until the worst of it passed.

You ran, which you struggled to do in your sandals. Namjoon reached back and grabbed your hand, laughing and urging you to run faster. You were soaked by the time you got to the first store, gasping and laughing together as you dripped in the store’s entrance, the AC making you both shiver.

And there he was, you thought. Namjoon was standing there, looking like a marble statue, his hair wet, his warm skin glistening, his t-shirt soaked through, almost revealing the details and lines of his muscles. How could anyone look that good? You were sure you looked like a wet mop right now, and he looked like a god.

The store you’d ducked into had a bathing suit section, so you figured this was a good a place as any to start your shopping day. Namjoon picked out a few swim trunks, and you held up a few bikinis in front of yourself as you stood in front of the mirror.

“You should get that one,” Namjoon said as he walked up, motioning toward the little pink bikini one you were currently holding up in front of yourself.

“What makes you say that?” you dared to say, instantly regretting it. That was way too forward, too flirtatious, too awkward. It was one thing for a friend to say something like what he’d said to a friend, it was another for you to flirtatiously ask his reasoning behind it.

“‘Cause it’s cute, sunshine,” he said, wrinkling his nose. You watched him sigh, looking around the store like he was trying to act casual. “It’d look good on you.”

You bit your lip instead of responding. Why were you being like this? For fuck’s sake.

You held on to that bikini as you returned the others, and also picked up a red one-piece bathing suit that reminded you of a 1950’s pinup girl. You decided to let that one be a surprise for Namjoon when you all got to the beach.

You continued shopping for about an hour. You bought two sundresses and a romper, and Namjoon found some awful Hawaiian shirts that made his eyes light up in delight at the tackiness. You insisted he also buy one normal shirt to wear at some point on your trip, just in case you went somewhere nicer.

As you carried your bags back to the car, Namjoon swung his bags in his hands, humming to himself happily. You hadn’t seen him this peppy in a long time. You still remembered what it had been like, back during his darkest times. How even when he’d managed to smile, it never reached his eyes. You were thankful every day for the therapist he’d started going to, who he still saw every week, and for the medication he’d started. He was so much more himself now, his love and joy for life making him glow, filling the people around him, too. He deserved to be this happy.

“What do you want for lunch, sunshine?” he asked, smiling and looking at you over the car as you put your bags on the back seat.

“You pick. I’m so hungry, I’ll eat anything.” You got into the driver’s seat and turned on the car, quickly turning the AC on full blast to combat the post-rain humidity.

“There’s a steakhouse down the road,” he suggested as he buckled his seatbelt.

“I’m not sure it’ll be open at two on a Sunday, but let’s go find out,” you said, looking over at him and seeing him smiling contentedly to himself.

It was open, as it turned out, and Namjoon got a huge steak and two sides and ate every bit of it. You smiled as you watched him. He was so cute sometimes, your heart couldn’t take it. You watched the way he ate, how his cheeks puffed out with big bites of food that made him look like a little chipmunk. You felt lucky, just knowing him.

Namjoon insisted on paying for your meal, yet again, and you were not going to let him but he slipped his credit card to the waiter before you could even try to stop him.

“Joon, you can’t keep doing that,” you whined, wanting to kick him under the table.

“Why not? I can’t treat my friend?” He made a face at you, teasing as always, and you rolled your eyes.

“This is the third meal in a row you’ve treated me to. Four, if we count you making breakfast this morning, which was very unlike you.”

“What can I say? I’ve been in a very giving mood lately.” His defense was weak, and you both knew it.

“You keep doing this, I’m gonna tell the group chat that you’re my sugar daddy. I bet that’ll make you stop paying for everything real quick, just to get them to shut up.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said, scoffing.

“Oh yeah?” You picked up your phone. You read aloud slowly as you typed out a long message: “Guys, you will not believe this. Daddy Joonie took me shopping today and bought me a big steak lunch—”

Namjoon’s hand dove forward, trying to grab the phone out of your hand, but you turned away, keeping it out of his reach as you continued typing, not taking your eyes off your phone as you grinned wildly.

“I really am Daddy’s little princess. Do you guys want to see what else he bought me? Daddy told me that he was the only one who gets to see me in it, but I feel like being bad—”

“If you send that, you are sleeping outside on our trip,” Namjoon said, shaking his head, a shocked smile on his face.

“Sent,” you said, smirking and holding up your phone, showing him the large blue chat bubble.

“Fuck,” Namjoon said under his breath, scrambling to pull out his phone to see it with his own eyes. You giggled as he glanced up at you with wide, fearful eyes when he felt his phone vibrating from the notification.

Namjoon looked at his phone for a moment before rolling his eyes.

“You fucking brat,” he said, smiling and shaking his head. You’d sent it only to him, not the group chat, just to give him that little heart attack.

“That was a warning shot,” you said, trying to maintain your seriousness despite your giggles.

“Message received,” he said, slumping back against the booth. “I thought most people liked getting free food. I didn’t know you’d play so dirty.”

“That was nothing. Keep this shit up, and I’ll write you handwritten love letters describing our torrid affair like a porn novel, and leave them out on the kitchen table in the beach house.”

“Two can play this game,” Namjoon said, feeling bold now as he smirked and sat up again. “You remember my poetry, back in the day? I’ll write you graphic, sexual love poems and send them to the chat and say it was an accident, that I’d meant to send them just to you. I can get really descriptive, you know.”

“I’ll sit in your lap the first meal we eat together down there and make you feed me.”

“I’ll pull you down in my lap the first meal we eat together and feed you.”

“I’ll text Taehyung and ask him if he wants a three-way.”

Namjoon made a face at that, and you laughed.

“You don’t want a three-way with me and Tae?” you teased.

“I don’t like sharing,” he grumbled.

Namjoon had said that right as the waiter dropped the bill and his card off, giving you the cover you needed to mentally process that little tidbit he’d just shared with the class. ‘I don’t like sharing?’ What the fuck?

You were convinced at this point that Namjoon knew you’d masturbated to him last night and was just trying to kill you. Though that didn’t really explain all the things he’d said and done before that yesterday. Maybe he could suddenly read minds, and knew you were in love with him and just wanted to torture you with all these little things he kept saying and doing. That had to be it.

You were certain you weren’t going to survive your vacation.

#namjoon smut #namjoon #kim namjoon #bts smut #namjoon x reader #bts scenario #bts fanfic #rm smut #namjoon x you #my writing

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theforbiddenfruitily · 5 years

Text

likes me / likes me not

pairing: yoonkook, side vmin rating: e words: 10.7k tags that aren’t actually tags: makeup/nail artist jungkook, humor, fluff, smut, mutual pining, sexual & romantic tension, pigeons for some reason, yoongi has tattoos for purely self-indulgent reasons

for cypherkooks ♡

summary:

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” yoongi says elusively.

“hyung,” taehyung sighs, “you literally come here to hold hands with the pretty nail artist.”

“what are you doing here,” yoongi says bluntly when he finds kim taehyung hanging out with some pigeons outside his apartment on a cloudy saturday afternoon at exactly 3:05 PM.

“good afternoon, hyung, so nice to see you too, i’m good, thank you, how are you?” taehyung rattles off, and yoongi rolls his eyes as he nudges the door shut behind him. he buries his hands into the pockets of his embroidered leather jacket and skips down the stairs, taehyung casually awaiting him down the courtyard. “your text said you were going to the beauty salon today. so here i am, ready to rock’n’roll.”

“yeah,” yoongi knits his brows, “that wasn’t an invitation?”

“oh, i know,” taehyung says in a pointed tone as he falls into step beside yoongi, “because you never invite me. why do you never invite me, hyung? i thought i was your best friend. yet here you are. ditching me weekly to go drink margaritas on a poolside with cucumber slices over your eyes and five fit dudes massaging your feet.”

yoongi glances at him incredulously.

“do you think that’s what happens in a beauty salon?” then, “why would it take five dudes to massage my feet?”

“i don’t know why it takes five dudes to massage your feet,” taehyung says, “because you never ask me to come with you.”

yoongi groans quietly.

“i didn’t think you’d be interested?” he offers.

“in self-care?” taehyung asks in the driest tone known to man, and, fair.

“maybe it’s one of those things that i’d rather do alone,” yoongi tries again, “me time?”

“your idea of me time is downing a bottle of whiskey while watching reruns of home renovation shows and then sending all of your friends long-winded messages where you go into detail telling them why you love them,” taehyung remarks as they stop at a red light. he looks at yoongi, and pokes him in the arm with an index finger. “i know you, hyung. i know when something’s up. i know you have a specific reason for always going alone. a secret reason. i’m also pretty sure i know what it is, and i’m here to confirm my suspicion.”

“what are you talking about,” yoongi sighs, “it’s really not that deep.” taehyung makes an unconvinced sound. the feeling of his eyes on the side of his face is unnerving, and yoongi shifts uneasily, pretends like he isn’t sweating under the leather jacket. “since you’re coming, you should decide what you want in case they take walk-ins. they do manicures, facials, hair, makeup. pretty much everything.”

“do they do feet stuff?” taehyung inquires, and yoongi makes a face at him.

“yes, but please don’t call it that.”

the bell on the door chimes gently. the scent of fresh shampoo and essential oils rolls over him in a wave, drowning him in a good way.

“damn, it smells good,” taehyung mumbles as he trails in after yoongi. “and i smell like pigeons, oh my god.”

“i really doubt you smell like pigeons,” yoongi comments, sparing a glance back over his shoulder, “but, dude, you have to stop feeding the pigeons in my yard. it’s technically not allowed and they’ve started acting real bold. in the last tenant meeting, the lady with all the hats complained about ‘intimidating pigeon behavior’.”

taehyung pshhs. “the lady with all the hats complains about everything. my pigeons only intimidate those who deserve it. they can see into your soul.” after a beat, he adds: “she’s got cool hats though.”

“yeah,” yoongi says distractedly as he surveys the space. everything’s located on a single floor; a few of the hair and makeup stations are busy. yoongi’s become quite friendly with a couple of the hairdressers here; hoseok, who’s currently buzzing some girl’s undercut, and—

“welcome—ah, yoongi. not letting your drunk friends cut your hair again, i hope?” park jimin, forever reminding him of the time he let seokjin cut his hair with kitchen scissors and had to have jimin do damage control. jimin seems to have sort of assumed seokjin must have been drunk because of how fucked up his hair was. he’d been completely sober and on top of that claimed he’d done a fantastic job. jimin eyes yoongi from behind the reception desk, chin propped up on the heel of his palm, mouth curving into a lazy smirk. “you’re here for jungkook, right? he’s keeping you all to himself, lately.”

“my hands happen to be very important for my work,” yoongi says mildly. “my hands are insured for two million dollars.”

“wow, jungkook’s a lucky guy, getting to exclusively enjoy such expensive hands,” jimin grins.

“here’s a glimpse,” yoongi says as he flips him off. jimin laughs delightedly, tipping his face towards the ceiling, eyes squeezing into tiny lines.

“jungkook will be with you soon,” jimin promises, fixing his hair by shoving fingers through it, and then dances around the desk not unlike a beam of moonlight or some semi-real faery creature. he stops with a hand on his hip, and gives an intrigued glance at taehyung. “and who’s this?”

yoongi waits for taehyung to introduce himself for three full seconds before realizing it’s not going to happen. he turns to him with a raised eyebrow; turns out taehyung is busy staring at jimin like jimin is the headlights of a sexy truck and taehyung is a gay deer in the middle of the road. ah. yoongi should’ve anticipated this. jimin tends to have this effect on people. he kind of had an effect on yoongi, when he first met him, but thank god that only lasted for about two seconds and then yoongi realized the thing jimin makes him feel is not lust but some repressed primeval rage. and, well. then he met—

“kim taehyung,” taehyung blurts, jolting out of his trance. “is… my name. has been, for twenty-three years. hello. how are you. i’m single.”

yoongi’s mouth falls slightly open as he looks at taehyung. then he looks at jimin, who looks vaguely amused but mostly just enchanted.

“pleasure to meet you, taehyung, my name is jimin,” jimin murmurs, and something about the way he’s smiling at taehyung is making yoongi feel like he really shouldn't be here. “can i do something for you today?”

taehyung takes a deep breath.

“not to sound creepy or inappropriate,” he says very calmly, “but you can do anything you want to me.”

“oh, my god,” yoongi whispers.

“yoongi-hyung,” a bright voice calls from across the room, and yoongi immediately thinks, oh, thank god, while another, just as prominent part of him goes, oh, no.

jungkook is a beam of light and a set of offensive body proportions across the room. yoongi feels instantly a little bit warmer, feels a whole bunch of prickly fluttery things at the mere sight of him. jungkook’s grinning at him, and yoongi can’t help but smile back, can never help; he ducks his face, rubbing at the helix of his ear for no reason, and the thing is that he’s aware how disgustingly obvious his crush is to someone like taehyung who’s known him since grade school.

somehow, though, the stars aligned. the gods decided to favor yoongi. park jimin decided to exist. taehyung is oblivious to everything that isn’t jimin, in the process of repeatedly running his hands through taehyung’s hair. taehyung looks like he might pass out. yoongi decides it’s time to leave. he gives a small smile and a wave to hoseok on his way to jungkook.

he’s observed everyone here has their own style when it comes to physical contact. hoseok hugs each of his clients before and after like he’s known them for twenty years. jimin goes for the hand-clasp shoulder-bump thing.

jungkook and him—they bump fists. yoongi recognizes they’re like one step away from calling each other bro, which is hilariously sad on many levels. he sort of likes it, though. it’s like easing into the amount of touching that would occur in the next hour.

“your friend?” jungkook inquires with a nod past yoongi’s shoulder after rapping his knuckles against yoongi’s.

“at least he invades my home on a regular basis and eats all my food,” yoongi shrugs, “so like, a pest or a best friend. he’s also in cahoots with all the pigeons residing in the vicinity of my building.”

“oh, my god,” jungkook wheezes as he leads the way to his corner of the shop, “i’ve never heard a real person say in cahoots before, hyung, what are you?”

“i know you think i’m cool,” yoongi only says, and more sees than hears jungkook laughing, his shoulders shaking.

jungkook’s nail studio is its own secluded area in the salon. there are no walls or doors but there are screens and abundant houseplants to give a sense of privacy.

jungkook listens to the most infuriating, least relaxing music in the world. bass-boosted edm and justin bieber remixes. yet yoongi honestly, genuinely doesn’t hate it.

that’s a pretty good indication of how deeply fucked he is.

right now there’s some top 40 list playing on the bluetooth speakers as yoongi shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over the back of the chair. gives himself a quick once-over in the mirror on the wall, roughing up his black hair. the black t-shirt hangs loosely off his frame, in contrast with the bright red of the old school roses barely peeking out of the neckline and sleeves. so maybe it was on purpose. jungkook said he liked his tattoos.

be it the tattoos, be it his outfit, be it something else—as he turns, he catches the tail end of what was jungkook’s eyes on him. he watches jungkook busy his hands with his tools; in his mind, picks petals off a daisy: he was checking me out / it’s wishful thinking; i’m not reading this wrong / i’m imagining it.

jungkook gives him a smile as he sits down cross-legged across from him, and places his hands palm-up on the table between them as if he were about to predict yoongi’s future.

“let’s get it,” he says purely because he knows yoongi hates it.

“why do i come here,” yoongi says dryly.

“‘cause i’m amazing at what i do,” jungkook says without a hint of irony, “give me your hands.”

yoongi licks his lips, slowly lowers his hands into jungkook’s.

“before you say anything—”

“ah, hyung,” jungkook scolds, “stop gnawing on your finger.”

“sorry, sorry,” yoongi snorts, and then falls silent as jungkook carefully strokes along the chewed edge of his thumb. can’t take his eyes off the delicate sweep of his eyelashes against his cheeks.

“you’ve been stressed,” jungkook says. a statement, not a question. he spends enough time with yoongi’s hands to be able to read certain things from them.

he knows that when yoongi is stressed and worried, he bites his thumbnail down to nothing. knows the remnants of old nail polish mean he’s been too busy and overworked to get rid of it and do his nails properly. knows ink stains on his fingers mean he’s writing again.

it is sort of like having his palms read, that way.

“had some trouble with a track,” yoongi murmurs as jungkook wipes his hands down with sanitizing wipes. “it worked out, though.”

“a track… for a new mixtape?” jungkook glances up, eyes bright. yoongi’s heart leaps in his chest.

“maybe,” he hums, tries to suppress a smile. jungkook makes a pleased noise as he reaches for the nail polish remover pads.

“i love your stuff, hyung,” he chats, “i really do. and so do others. i played your song here. um, so far away? and my client asked who it was. she said she’d check you out.”

“oh,” yoongi breathes. is a little bit speechless. navigates through a maze of feelings, and after a minute, comes out with: “see, you do think i’m cool.” what he means is thank you. is pretty sure jungkook can hear it.

“i think agust d is cool,” jungkook says with a sly grin. “min yoongi is the type to say in cahoots with pigeons.”

yoongi rasps out a laugh.

“yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

jungkook smiles in that endearing, uneven way, his front teeth poking out. yoongi swallows, his smile muting into a soft close-mouthed thing as he averts his gaze to their hands.

“so, how are you, otherwise?” jungkook asks as he works. his hands are always gentle and warm and soft, and yoongi thinks he might be slightly addicted to them. or maybe—just jungkook. he makes yoongi feel so at ease and so tight-wired all at once, like there’s dormant fire beneath his skin.

sometimes he only lathers yoongi’s hands in soap water and scrub that smells really good and massages the exhaustion out of them. sometimes he goes all out in the nail art department and does the most beautiful, intricate designs out of the vaguest, most unhelpful prompts from yoongi. (maybe something, uh, like, dark blue? got him the entire fucking night sky, complete with constellations and the wisp of aurora borealis. another time he said flowers but make it punk and jungkook gave him the life cycle of a rose from his pinkies to his thumbs.)

sometimes they carry an easy-flowing conversation for an hour and sometimes jungkook senses yoongi would rather not talk, and works quietly or humming along to a song while yoongi watches on the brink of falling asleep with his knees drawn to his chest and his face tucked into his knees.

this time, yoongi tells him a little bit about the projects he’s working on, then his trip to daegu to see his dog last week which gets them sidetracked for a minute because jungkook demands to see pictures and yoongi’s never going to not show someone pictures of holly when they ask; least of all jungkook. yoongi’s pretty sure it’s actually illegal to deny things from him when his eyes are shining like that.

“you look really happy when you talk about your dog,” jungkook grins, “ah, hyung, your smile—”

likes me / likes me not

“my smile is what,” yoongi prompts, barely louder than a whisper when jungkook doesn’t finish.

“c’mon,” jungkook huffs, face tipped downwards, but yoongi can see the small smile pulling at his mouth. “you know. you’re just looking for an ego boost.”

“i don’t read minds, jungkook-ah,” yoongi arches an eyebrow. jungkook rolls his eyes slightly.

“terrible,” he says, still not looking at him. the tips of his ears look slightly red. “just terrible, your smile.”

“is it, now,” yoongi says quietly, heartbeat thrumming in his ears.

“yes,” jungkook says very resolutely, biting down on his bottom lip. finally glances up at yoongi; stares him down for a couple of seconds, looks almost conflicted. then he stands up so fast yoongi nearly snaps his neck following the movement. “i’m out of hand lotion,” he murmurs, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “i’ll go get more. just a second.”

he slips out like a river. yoongi releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

he was blushing / it was the lights; he finds me attractive / he’s just nice because it’s his job.

“ha!” someone whisper-shouts, and yoongi jumps, curses roughly under his breath. taehyung’s poking his head in behind some houseplants. his head that is covered with a see-through plastic cap.

“dude,” yoongi says, “did you run away in the middle of getting your hair dyed?”

“i knew it,” taehyung announces, swooping in and pointing a finger at yoongi. yoongi spreads his hands to indicate he has no idea what he’s being accused of. taehyung stops directly in front of him. “i knew you looked less i’ve had this eye makeup on for a week straight and more sexy grunge goth vampire on the days you had an appointment.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” yoongi says elusively.

“hyung,” taehyung sighs, “you literally come here to hold hands with the pretty nail artist.”

yoongi feels a flush creeping onto his face. his eyes dart past taehyung as if expecting jungkook to materialize behind him in that second. obviously taehyung is not wrong, but he doesn’t have to be so loud about it—not when he has no idea which petal is the true one and is testing waters, is honestly content with nothing ever happening because jungkook is more than yoongi’s feelings of attraction towards him.

“shut up before i cram this entire thing of cotton balls down your throat,” he hisses.

“you’re threatening me with cotton, hyung,” taehyung shakes his head, “cotton. even your hypothetical attempts on my life are soft.”

he flinches when yoongi dips his fingers into the bowl of soap water and splashes him.

“begone, demon.”

“your attempts are futile,” taehyung narrows his eyes, “that’s lavender-scented soap water, of the ordinary unholy kind. why won’t you go for it, hyung? jimin said jungkook’s a great person. jimin said lots of things, actually.” he knits his brows thoughtfully. “damn, he did not hesitate to spill his long time friend’s secrets to a guy he just met.” he pauses. “i might be in love with him.”

“congratulations,” yoongi says, “and it’s not like that. he doesn’t—i’m just a client. i’m literally paying him to—”

“jimin knew you had tattoos on your back,” taehyung cuts him off, and yoongi freezes. “he knew because jungkook knew. there are two things we can draw from that. one: at some point, you were here shirtless, showing jungkook your tattoos, probably because he asked. two: he was thinking about it enough to talk to jimin about it, probably along the lines of oh my god, jimin, he has tattoos, he’s perfect, what am i gonna do, he’s so fucking hot—”

“kinda sounds like it’s you who thinks i’m hot?”

“please,” taehyung says, unfazed. “i’m an actor. i can easily adopt people’s mindsets and become them. and i also think you’re hot, on a good day. i have no problem admitting that.” yoongi’s feeling pretty defeated at this point. taehyung tilts his head and gives him an intrusive stare. “i can’t believe you took off your shirt for him and you still think he only sees you as a client. do you think he just does that with everyone?”

“alright, sherlock,” yoongi bites, “get out before—”

“taehyung-ssi?”

of course jungkook is standing right there behind taehyung eyeing him quizzically and yoongi has no idea if he heard that. he buries his face into his hand as taehyung spins around.

“ah, good,” taehyung says, clapping his hands together, “i’m here to invite you both to jimin and i’s wedding. may fifteen, 2025. yes that’s seven years from now because i am unemployed and cannot burden jimin with supporting us and our five children alone. also we met like half an hour ago.”

“yep,” yoongi says lifelessly.

“children?” jungkook asks blankly.

“my five blue-tongued skinks,” taehyung elaborates, touching his fingertips to his chest, “but we’re going to share custody, obviously. so. may fifteen, 2025. save the date.”

he shoots finger guns at both of them and slaps jungkook’s shoulder on his way out. yoongi pretends not to see him in the entryway miming something potentially inappropriate. it’s hard to tell because it’s a lot of violent pointing and incomprehensible facial expressions.

“well,” jungkook laughs quietly as he comes to sit back down, “i’m happy for them. i think jimin really likes him, too.”

“they’d go well together, i think,” yoongi hums low, eyes carefully following jungkook’s movements, desperately trying to determine if he heard something, if he’s aware, at this point, that yoongi thinks about him too much, likes everything about him, likes even the parts he hates, like his terrible song choices and embarrassing catchphrases, and when yoongi took his shirt off for him and felt his fingers trace the flowers on his shoulder blades, he felt like an entire meadow, felt it blooming everywhere, everywhere, with every heartbeat a new flower pushing through his skin.

likes me / likes me not

he wants to ask so badly, but instead he’s talking about jimin and taehyung, pretending like the question isn’t hanging on the tip of his tongue. instead he’s saying, “taehyung is… pretty much the most amazing person in the world. and i’m sure i could learn to tolerate jimin.”

and jungkook is not saying whether he knows these things about yoongi. instead he’s massaging the hand lotion into yoongi’s skin with care, huffing out a soft laugh. “i know you guys like each other, even if you pretend you don’t.”

yoongi makes a noncommittal sound. jungkook’s hands on yoongi’s are warm and soft and slow, slower, until they are not moving at all. he’s staring down at his own hands covering one of yoongi’s, and yoongi is staring at his face, breath held captive in his lungs, heart skipping beats left and right.

“hyung,” jungkook says, and yoongi sees him swallow, his fingers curling against yoongi’s hand for the briefest moment. jungkook lifts his face, looks at him with his eyes wide and starry. “can i do your makeup sometime?”

yoongi blinks. once, twice. he couldn’t have anticipated that.

“you want to do my makeup?”

jungkook clutches at his hand and nods timidly.

“really want to. been thinking about it for a while. been thinking about… this one look on you. and if you let me, i’d like to try it. you don’t have to pay me, obviously, since you didn’t book it.”

“you don’t do makeup here, do you?”

jungkook shakes his head. “not professionally. i have a flat upstairs? i do makeup for my friends there sometimes.”

“—sure,” yoongi says after a moment of processing, all in vain because he’s still stuck on been thinking about this one look on you. “yeah. why not.”

jungkook exhales softly.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” yoongi confirms with a nod. jungkook’s fingertips are still gently touching him. “when do you want to do it?”

“you’re my last appointment today,” jungkook says, teeth sinking into his bottom lip briefly, “are you on a tight schedule?”

yoongi hangs out in the front of the shop while jungkook closes up, spinning around in one of the empty salon chairs, annoying hoseok and not thinking about going up to jungkook’s apartment. he hasn’t figured out how to achieve either of those things yet, but hoseok has to have a limit, and focusing on finding it helps with the second part. his natural target was jimin, but jimin’s nowhere to be seen. neither is taehyung, who hasn’t replied to yoongi’s text telling him to leave without him.

“oh, yeah, that was weird,” hoseok furrows his brow while snipping at a pixie cut. “he said he was going to show jimin his lizard, and then they disappeared. i haven’t seen them since, so i’m guessing… lizard is a euphemism for something else.”

“oh, no, he means his actual lizard,” yoongi says in an enlightened tone, tipping his head back against the backrest. “he’s showing jimin pictures of his lizards somewhere. and he’s got five. so it’s going to take some time to go through each of their backstories, personalities, and future plans.”

“ah,” hoseok says, staring at yoongi with his brow still creased. yoongi figures he’s not a fan of reptiles. he then spins the scissors in his fingers with practiced ease, and flips them into the tool belt on his hip. hoseok is one of those people who can be openly scared shitless of most things in the world and still appear effortlessly cool. “you’re waiting for kook, right?”

“...yeah,” yoongi says, warily glancing up at hoseok. he doesn’t say anything, but there’s a subtle hint of a smirk on his face. yoongi spins away from him.

“hey,” comes hoseok’s voice, firm but gentle, and yoongi makes his way back around. hoseok’s combing slender fingers through the client’s hair and applying hairspray, but his eyes are on yoongi, a funny look on his face. “i know you’re a good guy,” he begins, and pauses. yoongi waits, confused, not sure if he should thank him. “i know you’re a good guy, and it’s not really even my place to give you the whole speech, but still… jungkook’s like family. and, just, uh. be good to him?”

yoongi blinks up at him for several seconds. he opens his mouth twice before sound comes out.

“he’s just… going to do my makeup.”

“hmm. i see,” hoseok says, completely unmoved. “i think you should still remember that, just in case. i know 37 ways to kill a man with scissors and make it look like an accident.”

yoongi thinks maybe he doesn’t want to annoy hoseok anymore.

by the time jungkook comes out, his bag slung over his shoulder and keys jangling in one fist, yoongi has quite successfully mastered not thinking about him or his apartment because he’s now just thinking about hoseok stabbing him to death with barber scissors. he gets up, rubbing at the back of his neck, and jungkook gives him a gentle smile.

“ready?” yoongi’s already turned his back so he doesn’t see them, but hears jungkook mumble to hoseok the same thing yoongi said: “i’m just going to do his makeup.”

“you guys have fun with that,” hoseok says like he’s holding back a laugh. when jungkook breezes past yoongi and shoulders the door open for him, he looks faintly pink.

“you don’t have a jacket?” yoongi notices.

“we’re only going one door down,” jungkook says, “seems redundant.”

and he really shoves the key into the more plain-looking door next to the beauty salon, but yoongi still wants to give him his jacket with the way the hairs on his forearms stand up.

they trudge up two narrow staircases. the building looks fairly old and doesn’t smell like the shop downstairs; it smells more like setting powder and mild perfume. as yoongi hangs back and waits for jungkook to unlock his door, he realizes he’s nervous. of course he’s nervous. he’s liked jungkook for ages and he’s now alone at his apartment and they are going to be physically closer than they’ve ever been.

“sorry if it’s a bit messy,” jungkook murmurs, letting yoongi in, “um, make yourself at home? i’m just going to change out of work clothes quickly—do you want something to drink?”

yoongi nurses a glass of water by the kitchen counter as jungkook disappears into the bathroom, and scans over the room. it’s a small studio apartment, but plenty of space for one person; it has a high ceiling, lots of windows, and a classic french vibe with the decorative wrought iron balcony railing. yoongi can see jungkook’s personal touch and the resemblance to his studio; succulents on his bedside table, a shelf of music, half-burned candles and the remnants of a sweet vanilla scent. the only part that is messy is the makeup desk by the far right wall.

yoongi instantly loves it. but he also feels like he’s stepped into some very private part of jungkook’s soul, and is afraid of touching anything.

jungkook comes out of the bathroom—he’s changed into a plain white t-shirt, the front tucked into his jeans. he wears dark shades at the shop—for nail polish stains, he told yoongi—but light looks good on him. really, really good.

“you should wash off your makeup,” jungkook says, and yoongi realizes he’s very much staring. he bites his lips, turns to set his glass on the counter.

“sure.”

jungkook left him a face wash and a towel in the bathroom, and yoongi gets rid of the subtle makeup on his face, the black around his eyes. taehyung was right. he does put a little more effort in on days he sees jungkook.

he rakes a hand through his damp bangs and tries to decide how weird he’ll look to jungkook without makeup. it’s not that yoongi thinks he looks bad bare-faced. just different. more… well, bare, in every sense of the word.

jungkook’s organizing his myriad things on the desk, and it looks considerably neater already. he looks up at yoongi when he exits; just looks, his mouth slightly open like he just forgot to close it. then he snaps out of it, eyes flitting to the desk and back to yoongi.

“good, um. sit down please?”

yoongi lowers himself into the desk chair next to jungkook’s stool, feet planted on the floor instead of instinctively lifting off the surface like usually and that may be visual proof of how nervous he is. their knees knock together when jungkook shifts, chooses a moisturizer from the products on the desk.

“i like your place,” yoongi murmurs. jungkook gives him a small but genuine smile.

“thank you. i used to live here with jimin, if you can believe it. back when we were just starting out at the shop. all this tiny space.”

“yeah?” yoongi hums, watches jungkook dispense moisturizer on his fingers. “what was that like?”

“probably exactly what you’re picturing,” jungkook snickers softly. “you good to go?”

“kinda self-conscious,” yoongi admits, shoulders jerking as he breathes a laugh, a shy gummy smile directed at jungkook’s collar bones.

“don’t be,” jungkook says, and when yoongi glances up, he’s watching him unexpectedly intense and serious, with something indescribable and sincere. he swallows, adds quietly: “you look good. you always look good, hyung.”

when he says it, yoongi believes him.

his heart hammers restlessly as jungkook leans closer, hands hovering up to his face, tells him he’ll start with moisturizer. yoongi closes his eyes just so that he doesn’t have to watch jungkook watching him.

“let’s get it,” jungkook mumbles as he gently pats down the moisturizer, and yoongi laughs despite himself.

jungkook goes through the steps meticulously. his hands are still gentle and warm and soft as he applies the base makeup, and yoongi mostly keeps his eyes closed. it’s nice in a way where it also hurts; just how gentle he is with yoongi and how he tenderly brushes his hair out of the way. it makes yoongi’s chest overflow painfully.

“i’ve been thinking about what kind of makeup i want to do for you.” jungkook’s voice is a soothing low murmur. it makes him feel like he’s dreaming. “your face is—it’s—intriguing. it’s… captivating. it’s very… it’s soft and sharp at the same time, you know? so i want to… emphasize that softness and sharpness. i want to do something… delicate. a soft plum smokey eye and a bit of a wing. shimmery highlighter. rose pink lip tint.”

“sounds like you know what you’re doing,” yoongi mumbles, “i trust you. make me pretty.”

“because that’s, like, a challenge,” jungkook mutters. yoongi cracks his eyes open as jungkook’s hands leave his face—he only has time to kind of see jungkook, jungkook with that look in his eyes, faint red blossoming on his cheekbones—”close your eyes,” he tells yoongi, the words tumbling from his mouth in a hurry, “i’m gonna do your eye makeup.” only saw him briefly, but the image sticks to the backs of his eyelids, sends his heart running. his nails curl into his palms on his thighs.

he thinks i’m pretty / doesn’t mean he wants me like that

jungkook shifts closer. yoongi doesn’t see him but he hears and feels him. his leg is slotted in between yoongi’s, yoongi’s knee pressing up against the inside of his thigh. feels him hover, feels his fingertips gently ghost against his brow to move his hair; he’s pretty sure he shivers, and prays to whoever’s listening that it’s not noticeable. feels the feathery bristles of the brush on his eyelid. so, so careful and yoongi can’t stand it.

jungkook doesn’t say much as he does yoongi’s eyes; it requires concentration, yoongi supposes. as he’s applying the winged eyeliner, a couple of soft, frustrated grunts escape his throat, though, and a smile rises to yoongi’s face, slow and silent like the moonrise because he doesn’t want to fuck up his work.

“god, hyung,” jungkook whispers, so quietly yoongi almost thinks he imagined it. jungkook doesn’t elaborate. breathes in, and leans away; yoongi can somehow feel him leaving his perimeter. “open your eyes.”

yoongi opens them slow. blinks languidly at their knees still slotted, adjusting to light. jungkook is waiting for him to look up so he does. jungkook, for a moment, doesn’t say anything. stares at him, wide-eyed, lips parted, as if he’s been put under a spell.

“hyung,” is all he says, “fuck.”

yoongi subtly raises his eyebrows.

“i, um, i’ll just.” jungkook turns towards the desk and manages to knock a bunch of things over. “don’t look yet! let me just finish.”

yoongi doesn’t close his eyes this time when jungkook swipes shimmering powder highlighter on his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, and his cupid’s bow, or when he takes the lip tint, touches fingertips to yoongi’s jaw, murmurs, part your lips. he keeps a careful hold of yoongi’s jaw, his eyes carefully fixed on yoongi’s mouth, and he’s so close yoongi can see every beautiful detail of his face and the warm flush standing out fiercely against the white of his shirt.

yoongi wants to kiss him. really badly.

“can i be honest?” jungkook asks suddenly, his tone low and quiet. it’s probably a rhetorical question, but yoongi makes a short affirmative sound. “i wanted to do your makeup since the day i saw you. from the moment you walked in—it was so hard not to look at you.” he’s still holding the applicator to yoongi’s bottom lip, but yoongi doesn’t think he’s doing much with it. “you—your face, your hands, everything about you... is so pretty.” yoongi watches the tip of his tongue glide across his bottom lip. “your voice, your music. your tattoos. you... drive me insane, hyung. and it’s not only…” he lowers the lip tint, but still stares at the same spot on his mouth. “when you walked in, i thought, maybe he’s an asshole—not that i thought you were, but that would’ve been… easier for me. but you weren’t, you weren’t at all, you turned out to be… you, the kindest, softest...” he breathes in, and finally meets yoongi’s eyes—his brow twitches, almost as if he were in pain. “i don’t do that with everyone.”

yoongi can barely remember how to speak.

“what?”

“i don’t just ask people to show me their tattoos, i don’t ask to touch them like that, oh my god, hyung—”

yoongi hooks a hand around the back of his neck, pulls him in, and kisses him.

eyes closed, just the press of their lips, until yoongi eases his grip slightly, and ventures a tiny tentative movement against him. jungkook’s lips, like his hands, are soft—

the lip tint clatters somewhere on the floor. jungkook makes a tiny sound, and only a second later, he’s kissing yoongi back fervently, so hard it almost hurts.

“oh,” yoongi breathes, jungkook’s fingers clinging onto his shirt front and digging into his thigh.

“yoongi,” jungkook says like a plea. oh, yoongi thinks again, and pulls him back in, his heart beating out of his chest. holds his face in both hands and kisses him properly, or as properly as he can with jungkook so eager, crashing into him first like a wave and then like rain, coming down on him ceaselessly and with abandon, making yoongi dizzy with every kind of want. he pries his lips apart with his own, licks into his hot mouth, and the sheer noise jungkook makes is enough to make heat coil in his belly.

“fuck, jungkook,” he groans into his mouth, “fuck, what the fuck, are you serious—”

“what do you mean am i serious,” jungkook laughs, but it’s half breathless gasps. he pulls back to look yoongi in the eye, and fuck, he looks beautiful, looks like a mess already, his pupils blown, his mouth swollen and red—an imprint of yoongi’s lip tint probably somewhere on it. “i’ve liked you since forever, how could i not—i was trying to muster up the courage to ask you out for coffee, this isn’t really—how i meant for it to happen—”

“we can do that,” yoongi agrees hurriedly, only sort of processing what he’s saying, “coffee, yes, let’s do that—but can i kiss you more now? really wanna kiss you more—”

“yes, yes please,” jungkook breathes, and then his mouth is back on yoongi’s. jungkook kisses with the intensity and heat of a thousand burning suns, and it’s the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to yoongi, even if he thinks it might kill him. he thinks he knows how icarus felt for the first time in his life.

jungkook’s trying to tug him close, but the chairs and their legs are in all the wrong places, and after some frustrated fumbling, jungkook pulls away again, their mouths separating with a wet sound; looks at yoongi with dark eyes, panting, and before yoongi can make himself form words to ask him what he’s doing and why he isn’t kissing him, jungkook mumbles, hold on, and leans further back. at first yoongi thinks he’s asking yoongi to wait; then it occurs to him he might also be literally asking him to hold on, because jungkook draws his knee up towards his chest, the sole of his foot aimed at the edge of the chair between yoongi’s legs, and breaking into a blinding grin at the last second, kicks yoongi across the room.

the chair rolls to the far wall, gradually slowing down until it’s not so much a collision as it is a gentle bump.

yoongi is astonished.

his mouth falls open first; then a single disbelieving laugh punches out of his throat. jungkook follows after him in unhurried strides, still grinning wide—but as he comes closer, it morphs into something slightly different, something that makes yoongi close his mouth and swallow. he allows his gaze to trail down and back up jungkook’s lean body, his teeth unconsciously sinking into his bottom lip as he locks eyes with him. jungkook’s eyes are magnetic and dark and his smile is almost a contradiction, close-mouthed and pretty, and yoongi reaches for him automatically.

“you,” he huffs, and sounds absolutely gone for him but doesn’t even care right now, “you’ll pay for that.”

“yeah?” jungkook grins. yoongi’s hand finds his waist, and without hesitation, jungkook climbs into his lap, knees on either side of him, forearms bracketing yoongi’s head on the backrest. yoongi sucks in a breath; with his eyes never leaving jungkook’s, wraps his arms around his middle, palms traveling firm and slow across his ribs and the expanse of his back over his shirt, feeling how he fits into his arms, feeling his lithe body respond to his touch. “hyung,” jungkook gasps, apple red mouth parted.

“kiss me,” yoongi asks quietly, and jungkook surges down, kisses almost like he’s angry, deep and thorough and bruising, hands sliding into yoongi’s hair and tugging just enough to make him groan, make him tighten his hands around jungkook’s waist. jungkook’s thighs slide farther apart until he’s fully seated in yoongi’s lap, heavy and solid against him, and yoongi makes a pained noise, fists the back of his shirt. he tugs at jungkook’s bottom lip with his teeth, drawing a soft whimper from him, and it pours down his throat like hot liquid, pools in the pit of his stomach. “fuck, jungkook,” he manages, and jungkook makes a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan.

“touch me more,” he whispers, arching in his touch, “touch me more, please, yoongi—”

yoongi is more than happy to comply. slips his hands under his shirt, splays fingers across his back, his hot-running skin and the hard muscles. jungkook feels so good, his ridiculous tiny waist fitting into yoongi’s hands perfectly; jungkook, he mumbles into his mouth in some kind of awe, and jungkook moans, fingers tangled in yoongi’s hair and clinging to his shoulder, dipping under his neckline. yoongi drags nails up his abdomen, feels the muscles constrict, and he wants more, wants to see—

“can i take this off you?” he whispers, and jungkook wastes no time sitting back to pull the shirt over his head, giving yoongi no time to prepare whatsoever. suddenly he’s got a lapful of half-naked jungkook, and yoongi knew he was hot, but this is just—this is outrageous.

“oh,” he says, strained, and clutches at jungkook’s hips as though hanging on for dear life, “warn a guy, jesus christ, jungkook—”

“are you angry at my abs?” jungkook asks breathlessly, laughter in his voice, and yoongi looks up at him, brow furrowed and swollen mouth open.

“yes,” he bites out, “they are just—unreasonable, and you can’t just—do that, you’re sitting on my damn lap, think of my, my pulse—”

jungkook laughs with his eyes closed, barely making a sound, flushed cherry blossom pink, and yoongi’s never wanted to kiss someone’s teeth before yet here he is. he’s, like, in love, he’s completely and utterly gone and they haven’t been on a real date yet.

“i take that as, mm, as a compliment?” jungkook hums, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, and instantly the heat is back as he leans over yoongi, shifts in his lap, and yoongi is reminded he’s been half-hard since jungkook straddled him. he makes a low soft sound from his throat, runs his hands over jungkook’s thick thighs, up his sides. jungkook brushes his lips against his cheekbone, drops devastatingly gentle feathery kisses along the side of his face. “‘m not prettily inked like you—”

“you don’t need it,” yoongi tells him, and he has no idea when his voice got so rough, “don’t need it to be absolutely fucking gorgeous—” jungkook makes a breathy high-pitched sound and rocks into him at the praise, face tucked into his neck, and so yoongi keeps going, hands sliding on bare skin, keeping him close. “so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, “been wanting you for ages—”

“yoongi,” jungkook grunts, and crashes their mouths together again, kissing with fervor, with teeth and tongue, his fist in yoongi’s hair keeping his face angled the way he wants, body rolling against him, hips grinding down, and yoongi loves it, this insistence and intensity, it’s so fucking hot; he moans into the kiss and grabs jungkook’s hips, encouraging his movements.

jungkook’s hands between their bodies are tugging on yoongi’s shirt.

“hyung, yoongi, take this off, please—”

it takes a bit of maneuvering, and jungkook almost clocks him in the jaw as he yanks the shirt off his body with more force than necessary, but after apologizing profusely whilst giggling helplessly, he’s back in yoongi’s lap and skimming his fingers over the roses on his collarbones and upper arms, making yoongi shiver.

“pretty,” he’s whispering, “pretty hyung, so pretty—”

yoongi flushes even more just from that, and tugs him back down by the back of his neck.

he thinks about the coffee date for a fleeting moment, and wonders if they’re moving too fast—decides fuck it approximately 1.8 seconds later, because they both want this, and the way jungkook sighs into his mouth is a pretty compelling argument. he glides his hands up jungkook’s stomach, his chest, teases fingertips over his nipples, and jungkook squirms against him, gasps into his mouth, and yoongi definitely wants to explore his unexpected sensitivity more, can’t wait to learn what makes him writhe and gasp, what makes him feel good and what makes him feel like he’s been sent to heaven—preferably when they aren’t making out in a creaky office chair.

for now, jungkook grinds against him increasingly desperately and yoongi grazes his fingers just above his waistband, mumbles, “what do you want? tell me what you want. anything.”

jungkook inhales unsteadily.

“touch me,” he whispers, “please—”

gently, his fingers wrap around yoongi’s; yoongi lets his hand be guided down, down where he is hard in his jeans; his own dick jumps, arousal so tightly-wound in his belly he thinks he might burst. he applies pressure, palms him slowly, and jungkook lets out the most beautiful ragged moan, clings to his shoulders and rocks into his palm. yoongi slides his other hand into his hair, mouths along his jawline, presses teeth and tongue against his skittering pulse until jungkook’s breath stutters.

“more—yoongi, wanna feel your—your hands—”

“fuck,” yoongi manages, and fumbles with the button of jungkook’s jeans. employs both of his hands to tug them open because no one’s grading technique here. “okay?” he checks, barely dipping a fingertip under the elastic waistband, and when jungkook rattles off a litany of yes yes yes, slips a hand into his briefs. his other palm firm and grounding against jungkook’s back, merely strokes him gingerly with his long fingers first, taking it slow more for himself than for jungkook, because his heart is about to punch out of his ribcage. jungkook makes breathy little sounds, and yoongi sees his toes curl and uncurl behind him. it’s the most devastating thing he’s ever seen.

he wraps his fingers around him, and takes him out. jungkook is leaking, hard and heavy, and yoongi swears roughly into his sweat-coated neck, leans his forehead against his shoulder to watch his own fingers skim over the flushed tip, slick and sticky, watches precum string between them. jungkook’s gripping his hair so tightly it almost hurts.

“pretty,” yoongi tips his face up to mumble nonsensically into the hollow of his collarbone, “you’re so pretty, kook-ah, so beautiful.”

jungkook moans weakly into his ear, his hips stuttering forward into the ring of his fingers. yoongi pumps him loosely a couple of times and rubs his palm over the wet head, trying his best to take note of his reactions and learn what he likes, jungkook’s nails scraping across his shoulders, jungkook gasping hyung or yoongi or fuck fuck fuck.

he’s sure jungkook has lubricant in some shape or form somewhere around here, but he also doesn’t see either of them getting up in the near future; so he briefly takes his hand off of jungkook to bring it up to his mouth, and rather unceremoniously licks a wet stripe across his palm, all the way up to his fingertips. tastes jungkook on his tongue, and while he’s never been a fan of the taste of precum or cum, jungkook doesn’t taste bad.

“oh, my god,” he hears a strained gasp, and locks eyes with jungkook, who sits back to watch yoongi. he looks so wrecked with his bitten mouth and glazed-over eyes that yoongi isn’t half as embarrassed as he usually would be, but instead finds himself wanting to put on a show; looks at jungkook under his lashes as he sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, gets them wet and messy, and pulls them out slowly. jungkook looks dazed, his fingers working against the muscles of yoongi’s shoulders; finally he blinks, tugs his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down hard.

“fuck, yoongi,” he says low, a dark shadow passing across his face, and closes the distance, kisses him the most urgent yet, so much power behind it that yoongi forgets what he was doing for a second, just groans and gives into it, mouth pliant and inviting the drag of jungkook’s tongue against his own. he remembers soon enough, with jungkook poking wetly at his abdomen, and reaches back down, takes him into his fist. jerks him fast and tight, wanting to give him what he needs, wanting to see him come apart.

jungkook’s getting close, there are several tells: his body squirming so erratically yoongi thinks he might fall right off of him, his thighs shaking, the continuous whiny aah aahs from his mouth. coming in his pants like a sixteen-year-old is a very formidable threat to yoongi.

“wait, wait,” jungkook breathes, seizing his wrist, and yoongi stops moving immediately; waits in the silence of their heavy breathing, and jungkook swallows, blinks at him, eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings, so, so pretty. he releases a laugh in the form of an exhale, and looks at yoongi, the flush on his face darkening like ripe cherries. “didn’t wanna come yet—wanna touch you first.”

“oh,” yoongi says, and sounds like he’s in pain, “oh, god, jungkook—”

jungkook drags a hand down his chest, fingers skittering at his waist, hooking over the waistband of his jeans.

“wanna touch you, hyung,” he mumbles, kissing the corner of yoongi’s mouth sloppily, “can i?”

“yes, please, kook-ah,” yoongi rambles, near delirious with how much he’s aching for it. jungkook works his jeans open quickly, and knocks their damp foreheads together to peer down at his hand as he rubs it over the soaked through spot on yoongi’s light blue briefs. a breathless haah falls out of yoongi’s mouth, and jungkook nudges at his face with his own, seeking his lips until he finds them. it’s less like kissing, more like them slotting their mouths together and panting, jungkook’s teeth grazing his bottom lip; experimentally, he bites a little bit harder, catching onto the fact that yoongi likes it from the filthy, unadulterated moan pouring from his throat and his hips rolling up into jungkook’s palm.

“yoongi, fuck,” he hears jungkook say, and his eyes have closed but jungkook sounds dark and ruined and like he’s witnessing something wondrous. yoongi tips his head back against the backrest as jungkook peels the thin fabric out of the way; jungkook’s saying more things, saying, pretty hyung, the prettiest, wanna make you feel good. yoongi swallows roughly, head rolling on the backrest in a way he can’t entirely control as jungkook takes him into his hand, mimics what yoongi did to him, running his fingers over the wetness and up and down his length. keeps his grip maddeningly light as he moves his hand rhythmically, caressing him more than anything else, and yoongi lets out a breathy whine, fingers digging into jungkook’s thighs, hips attempting to rise under his weight.

jungkook hums against his neck, and goes on to mouth at the roses on his collarbones, trace them with his tongue, and yoongi wonders hazily if he’s been wanting to do that for a while. he nips and bites and sucks at the skin until there are marks of a different kind blooming above the roses.

“is it good?” he whispers, breath tickling yoongi’s neck, and for some reason yoongi’s finding the fact that he’s seeking confirmation unbearably adorable. “does it feel good, hyung?”

“so good, kook-ah,” yoongi manages, and jungkook makes a pleased little noise. yoongi’s chest is so full it hurts. he blinks his eyes open, fumbles between their bodies gracelessly until he finds jungkook’s slick fingers. “here,” he murmurs, pulls jungkook’s hand up, and takes his fingers into his mouth. jungkook inhales sharply, and yoongi watches his face go through the five stages of grief as he sucks around his digits the way he did with his own. jungkook watches him darkly, presses the pads of his fingers against his tongue, and yoongi moans quietly, his dick twitching, finding the act of emergency lubing much more enticing when it’s jungkook’s fingers in his mouth.

jungkook mumbles something that sounds like killing me, and ruts against him, working his hips against yoongi’s in tiny circles, forearm propped against the backrest for support, his biceps bulging in a way that’s just uncalled for. yoongi pops his fingers out of his mouth, tugs him into a sloppy kiss, and guides jungkook’s hand back down, his movements hasty and urgent.

“kook, kook, kook-ah,” he’s murmuring for no reason, their tangled fingers closing around the both of them, and jungkook moans in arpeggios.

it’s so messy, there’s little to no finesse, but it’s so good, the feeling of them rubbing together and the slide of their slick fingers, jungkook fucking into their fists and letting out soft grunts and moans, biting on yoongi’s lips until yoongi whines and drags his nails down his side.

“‘m close,” jungkook mumbles, fingers curling in yoongi’s hair, pushing his face up into the nook of his neck, “yoongi, yoongi—”

“come on,” yoongi encourages, taking control when jungkook’s fingers stutter and slide away, dig into yoongi’s hip instead. keeps murmuring things to him, encouragements and praises pouring from his mouth in a steady stream, and yoongi never talks this much during sex but it’s effortless now, he doesn’t even think about it, feeds on the way it makes jungkook writhe and gasp.

jungkook’s moan sounds like it was cut clean off with a knife; his body tenses, arches, and then he’s coming all over yoongi’s stomach and chest. yoongi slips an arm around him and pulls him close, keeps him steady as jungkook goes boneless against him, catching his breath with his forehead sliding on yoongi’s shoulder.

“oh,” he gasps, “oh, shit.”

“yeah,” yoongi chokes a laugh, fingers skimming up his side, over the bumps of his ribs, his heaving chest. kisses his mussed up hair, his sweaty temple, then his slack mouth when jungkook lifts his face. “you good?”

“i’d say so,” jungkook says, and breaks into a grin, tired and happy and fucked out. yoongi’s looking at him like he’s in love.

he’s also still hard between them, which jungkook doesn’t neglect much longer. all he does, pretty much, is apply some pressure, scrape his fingernails against his scalp, murmur, come on, wanna see you come, wanna see you, and yoongi comes, just like that. feels like he comes for ages, feels like jungkook’s physical weight on him is the only thing preventing him from astral projecting right out of his body.

he doesn’t know what his body, his face, his voice do, but after the white washes over him, jungkook’s breathing, oh, oh, yoongi, running gentle fingers down his neck and shoulders. his hands: gentle and warm and soft. yoongi rolls his head down the backrest back onto his shoulders, waiting for his breath to calm, and jungkook holds his jaw in his fingertips, kisses him sweetly on the mouth.

“you know, i can’t even be bummed that your makeup is sort of ruined,” he hums, looking at yoongi with lidded eyes and softly caressing his jaw, “because you look so good like this.”

“oh,” yoongi blinks. “oh, my god. i forgot you did my makeup.”

jungkook laughs quietly. “i take that as a confirmation it was good?”

“so good.” yoongi swallows, closes his eyes, and lets the back of his head hit the chair with a muffled thud. “now it’s kinda gross though. sticky and cold.”

“i’m not sure my legs work,” jungkook evaluates. yoongi cracks one eye open to glare at him.

“are you trying to get me to wheel us to the bathroom?”

jungkook looks at him. “is it working?”

yoongi actually tries, after they are tucked back in and still kind of gross; spins them around and tries to use the wall as leverage to propel them across the floor, an attempt which ends in them almost toppling over after two meesely feet and then almost toppling over again when their laughing makes the chair wobble around uncontrollably.

when yoongi inspects himself in the bathroom mirror five minutes later, he determines the makeup still looks good. the eye makeup is a little bit smudged but the glossy highlighter has stayed on. some of it could be the post-orgasm glow, though.

“it looked good, i promise,” jungkook says, leaning on the doorframe behind yoongi. he’s cleaned up already, and looks wildly good, his hair swept off his forehead and tousled like it’s had wind in it. he’s wearing his shirt, and is holding yoongi’s in his hand. “i did an amazing job. you just have to take my word for it.”

“i guess you have to do it again,” yoongi hums, “and this time try not to, like, jump my bones.”

“wow, the nerve,” jungkook says, aghast, “you kissed me first.”

he pelts yoongi with the shirt, and yoongi grins, catches it before it slips to the floor. as he shakes it out, jungkook gravitates closer. yoongi meets his eyes in the mirror, and jungkook gives the smallest, softest smile, before dropping his gaze like he’s shy; he gently lowers his forehead on yoongi’s bare shoulder, and yoongi’s heart hurts.

“do you still wanna get that coffee?” jungkook asks in a tiny voice. he’s tracing the flowers on yoongi’s shoulder blades with his fingertips. yoongi doesn’t say i’d go anywhere with you. but he thinks it.

“let me just put on my shirt,” he says with the warmth of the thing making a home out of his chest. jungkook peeks up from behind his shoulder so that only his big eyes are visible. but yoongi can tell he’s smiling.

“wanna know something?” jungkook asks in the stairs that are almost too narrow to walk side-by-side while holding hands, but yoongi has been quoted as saying he’s willing to die for hand-holding, so it’s a challenge he’ll take. he hums affirmatively, adjusting his fingers in the spaces between jungkook’s. “when you came out of the bathroom after taking off your makeup… the first thing i thought was is this how he would look every morning.”

yoongi turns to look at him. jungkook’s looking at the steps, bottom lip between his teeth. yoongi looks forward again so as to not stumble and die.

“i wanted to… see you like that every morning,” jungkook continues quietly. “want to. um. not every morning. not right away. but… some mornings. as many mornings as you want. i’m saying… i want to wake up next to you and do all the boring morning stuff with you. oh my god.”

they are at the bottom of the stairs and they come to a stop. jungkook’s looking decidedly away from yoongi, at the opposite wall, and his neck is faintly pink. he’s holding onto yoongi’s hand really tightly, though.

“it wasn’t that embarrassing,” yoongi consoles, bringing the back of jungkook’s hand up to his grin, and pressing a fleeting kiss to it. jungkook makes a mortified sound. yoongi gently tugs him along towards where it’s still light out. “and i want the same thing.”

“you do?”

he pulls them into the street, and turns around to face jungkook, who’s finally looking back at him, bright and beautiful. yoongi tugs him close, and tells him, “i want to do all the boring morning stuff with you too. how could i not.” how could i not. he really means it. jungkook seems to think getting to wake up next to him every morning is anything less than a privilege.

he didn’t really consider it earlier because they were sitting. but he has to stand on his tiptoes to kiss jungkook. so he does just that. he holds his face and kisses him gentle warm and soft, and jungkook’s arms encompass him, and yoongi doesn’t really want him to ever stop holding him. he feels the outline of his smile in the kiss.

and it’s a good kiss but yoongi still doesn’t expect the eruption of cheers that abruptly rings out on his left. he jumps a little, and stares at jungkook, wide-eyed. jungkook blinks back at him. they turn to look at the same time.

it’s a jarringly familiar sight.

“what are you doing here,” yoongi says bluntly when he finds kim taehyung hanging out with some pigeons outside the beauty salon and also jungkook’s apartment on a clear saturday evening around maybe 7:30-ish.

“hello, hyung, very nice to see you, how are you?” taehyung grins up at them from where he’s squatting by the buildingside doing something that yoongi hopes to god isn’t hand-feeding pieces of bagel to street pigeons. “i’m just hand-feeding bagel to these pigeons.”

“i can see that,” yoongi says flatly.

there are two other people who contributed to the cheering. jimin’s endorsing taehyung, hovering at his side holding the bag of bagels with his other hand buried in his pocket, smirking at them knowingly. hoseok is eyeing the pigeons cautiously from a safe distance on the other side of the pavement, but still looks very happy for them.

taehyung’s hair is—different. it’s so light brown it might actually just be blonde, and whatever jimin did to it to make it look like it would smell like seawater and sand and the sun, works really well for taehyung. yoongi locks eyes with jimin when taehyung is focused on cahooting with pigeons, points at the surfer curls, and raises his eyebrows. jimin makes a pair of horn signs with his index and pinky fingers. it’s the closest to a civilized conversation with a heartfelt compliment and a thank you they’ve ever had.

“were you… waiting out here for us to come out just so you could prove i didn’t actually do yoongi-hyung’s makeup?” jungkook says with disbelief.

“of course not,” taehyung says, standing up and shaking bagel crumbs off of his palms. “we were waiting in the café across the street. but the rest was pretty accurate.”

“well, i did do his makeup,” jungkook narrows his eyes.

“yeah,” jimin begins, “either this really isn’t your best one—” he gestures broadly at yoongi’s general being, “or you were purposely going for this makeup was impeccable and then i had heated sex with my makeup artist in a desk chair which, by the way, is actually jimin’s and you were supposed to give it back a year ago.”

yoongi and jungkook share the same horrified silence.

“wait—” jungkook starts weakly.

“dude,” jimin sighs, and waves a hand at the building. “your apartment has, like, a billion windows.” jungkook goes pale. yoongi just stares at jimin, whose mouth quirks devilishly. “don’t worry, you could only see, like, the top of jungkook’s head. but i mean, no one has conversations that long while sitting in someone’s lap facing them.”

“yoongi actually does that, sometimes,” taehyung says contemplatively. “so i don’t know. we shouldn’t rule that out.”

“you can keep the chair, by the way,” jimin says genially.

“thanks,” jungkook says in a dead voice.

“oh, my god,” yoongi says, “i’m going to cross this street to the café now and i’m going to be hoping a car hits me.”

“wait,” yelps hoseok, who’s been chased by a pigeon even further down the pavement. he’s cornered at some motorcycles parked on the side of the street. “congrats! and i’m sorry i threatened you, yoongi!”

“it’s okay, no hard feelings,” yoongi shouts back. it’s very difficult to feel threatened by someone who’s shrieking at a group of pigeons and seems to think taehyung has some kind of control over them because he’s pleading, call them back, tae.

“if they intimidate you it’s because you deserve it!” taehyung’s yelling as yoongi escapes across the street, jungkook’s hand in his, jungkook’s breathless laugh in his ears and in some place more permanent, in a safe, in a box in his heart where he’ll reach when he needs it, when he needs to be reminded of the good things in the world.

jungkook slows them down outside of the café.

“before we go in, i need to do something,” he says, squeezing yoongi’s hand and biting down on his bottom lip.

“okay?” yoongi says as jungkook takes hold of his upper arms and steers him to stand in front of him in what feels like a very formal manner. he seems serious and vaguely nervous and yoongi finds it perplexing but also endearing. jungkook inhales deeply.

“okay,” he says, looking yoongi firmly in the eye, “so we already got each other off and established we want to be gross and domestic together. but i want to do this properly, so…” his posture shifting, relaxing, he rubs at the side of his neck, and he grins, slightly embarrassed but with the sun trapped behind his teeth. “min yoongi, i like you. will you date me?”

that’s how yoongi starts dating jeon jungkook: uttering the easiest yes he’s ever said, smiling like a lovestruck fool in front of some old guy just trying to enjoy a cup of coffee on the patio, with taehyung very distinctly screaming about pigeons in the background. it’s exactly what he pictured.

—likes me.

#yoonkook #bts fic #idk how i should tag this i dont have a system yet

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