#but that art style bit my toes in my sleep
Note
Heyy I saw you were looking for ACOTAR requests and I was wondering if you could write a fic where reader leaves massive hickeys on Az and he doesn't notice until breakfast the next morning where the entire IC tease him for it especially Rhysand and Cassian and one of them asks if Az is mated to a vampire and Az is acting all shy but he secretly loves knowing reader marked him😵
Azriel Shadowsinger x Reader- She’s Definitely a Love Vampire
Okay soooo I didn’t make the reader an actual vampire, but rather she was hinted as a ‘love vampire’ because why not 😂.
Sorry if the energy is a little off, I’ve been watching The Office, New Girl and Brooklyn Nine-Nine. sooooo it might be a little funny 😂😂😂
Annnnnnnddddd there’s a little snippet of smut. I might’ve gone overboard😬😁
Hope you enjoy!!! My requests are open!
————————————
Azriel had rolled over onto his side, he didn’t need to reach his hand out to know you weren’t there, through the bond he could feel how awake your thoughts were. He could feel how focused you were on getting ready for work. You walked out of the bathroom fixing your hair and your clothes, normally you would’ve been gone by now, but you ended up in bed a little longer. Azriel had propped himself up on an elbow, the silk sheet draped over his middle, bare, toned chest and abs on display, his hair tousled from sleep and the events from the previous night. Azriel already smirking at you causing you to roll your eyes, you walked over to the bed leaning down pecking him on the lips. The kiss ended up becoming more, a distraction as he sneakily reached a hand over grabbing onto your arm tugging you back towards the bed. You chuckled into the kiss as you pulled back you shook your head “ No, I can't. I'm already late as it is and you’re late for training.”
“ They won’t even notice that I’m not there, Stay” He whispers, the hand that grabbed your arm, switches to cup the underside of your jaw pulling you closer to his face. His shadows dance along the curve of your spine and into your hair. You fought the urge to give in, though every part of you wanted to right then and there. Azriel could feel it, he was just as determined to capture just as you were determined to resist. By now your body was half way onto the bed, one leg pressed into the mattress, your other leg stretched out, your toes stretching out so that you could stay attached to the floor.
“ Yes they will-“
Azriel half closed his eyes as he only hummed, his nose bumped against yours. “-No they won’t, stay Y/N.” he whispers again. The same hand that gripped your jaw slipped to the back of your head gripping your perfectly styled hair. You bit back a whimper fighting off every instinct you had, you really wanted to cave in, Azriel was there for it. He just needed to push you a little further.
He brushes his lips to yours teasingly, barely passing as a kiss let alone a peck. He instead nips at your bottom lip like you had done to him many times even last night. You tried to pull back but his massive hand held onto your head holding you in place, you instinctively reached for his wrist to pry him off. “ Az” you whispered, trying to bring him down from his heat of the moment. It did nothing, rather his lips glided down towards your neck finding your sweet a little too quickly. Your breath hitches, you grip his arm. You were about to become a liquid form of yourself in less then a second, yet you made a quick minute decision. You placed a hand on his chest pushing him back, you decided to add a little-art to the Shadowsinger.
“Let me take care of you” You whispered, choosing to play his game. Azriel didn’t budge as you pushed him back, a twinkle in his eyes suggested that he was intrigued by your feeble attempt at dominating him. But even then his own dominance outweighed yours, it was cute really, how you thought you could pull a switch on him, rookie mistake.
“ Feeling dominant are we?” He says, you felt the blood beneath your skin become hotter by the second, desire now burning through you. You were practically frozen in place, the plan you did have of teasing him with a handjob was out the window. His smirk turning into a victorious smile “ That’s adorable, really, but I’ve got a better idea”
“ fuck me..” you whine, you drop your head, knowing that this would be the end of you.
“ That’s the plan”, He pulls you on the bed, the covers floating as you collapse onto the mattress. Forget about going to work on time and forget about training. There just wasn’t going to be enough time to do it all. Not with him around and not with you around, but you both figured that it was because of your newfound mating bond that may or may not be a few years old. Still, it was fresh and new as the first time the two of you found each other.
—————-
It was breakfast time, Azriel hadn’t shown up for training and you were extremely late to work. You worked with Madja, she was training you to become the next inner circle healer. Much to her dismay she let it slide, she knew that the two of you were inseparable and that this was inevitable.. It was a fate she accepted when the male members of the inner circle had started falling off one by one, struck with immense love…Azriel had walked into the dining area of the town home. He had planned to leave for the River house. What he hadn’t expected was his brothers and his friends to be sitting at the table eating their breakfast to their heart's content. They buzzed with conversation, Nuala and Cerridwen walking to the table setting another morning dish down, Elain following not far behind with drinks in her hand.
“ Finally! Rhys and I were about to go up there and dump a bucket of cold water on you!” Cassian beams, as he stabs his food with a fork getting ready to shovel it down. Mor cringes at the sight muttering the words “Pig”. He smirks at her with a mouth full of food. Nesta on the other hand had chosen to converse with her sister Elain. Mor, Amren and Feyre engaged in their own conversation.
“Now we don’t have to, But I trust you had a good reason why you didn’t show up for training.” Rhys says as he watches his brother take a seat and begin piling food onto the plate before him. Azriel hated it when Rhys poked into his mind looking for something, or more the reason why he didn’t show up for training. The truth is, Rhys didn’t need to take a peek into his mind, the answer was before him, Azriel had no idea.
Azriel chooses to ignore his brother's piercing gaze“ I overslept,” He says simply.
“ Of course, you must’ve had a long night then?” Rhys responds leaning back in his seat, his elbow resting against the forearm, tucking his hand under his chin. He stares at him, a slow smile crawling along his face.
“ Something like that” Azriel refused to give anything up the night before. Not that it was anyone’s business.
“ Ooooooooo Azriel got laid-” Cassian smirked, as he stated the obvious. He goes to take a drink out of his cup when Feyre reaches over smacking his arm. “-oooww, Feyre?!”
“ Cass!” She raise her eyebrows at him.
“ You are a half minded child.” Mor stares at him in annoyance.
“I am surrounded by imbeciles” Amren mutters going back to her food.
“ What?! He’s got hickeys on his neck! They look like giant raspberries!” Cassian points out. All conversations cease, all eyes land on Azriel, who stops mid eating. Different expressions filled the room, Feyre shared a knowing look with Rhys and Elain, Cassian flabbergasted that everyone was mad at him. Nesta remained emotionless, Amren ignored the situation reaching for her glass to drink from. Mor’s mouth had practically hung open, as her gaze shifted from one side to the other. Azriel dropped his fork and knife onto his plate abruptly, he quickly removed himself from the seat rushing to the nearest mirror he could find. The conversation that was once halted began again. Voices booming and shouting throwing many theories.
“Oh by the cauldron” Mor whispers, her mind can’t grasp what she witnessed.
“You, busy bodies make me want to rip my ears off” Amren rolled her eyes.
“Rhysie? Feyre? Elain? Who's the girl?” Cassian questions
“ Why must you feel the need to assume we know” Rhys defends
“ You have Daemati powers, so do you, Feyre! And Elain oooo Elain you can see the future, you could’ve told us!”
“ Oh no, do not drag me into this!” She shakes her head as she waves her gentle hand in the air. Future visions were a hit or miss, she chose not to peek into anyone’s lives unless they asked.
“ He’s-but he’s so-and he never-I mean when did he-when was the last time-“ Mor was practically talking to herself as she tried to figure out the timeline. Feyre leaned over patting Mors hand as she stayed lost in thought. Feyre tried her hardest not to giggle. The yelling and the arguing continued all around. Azriel entered the bathroom, he never checked to see if you’d left a mark before going down to the kitchen. If there were marks then you’d heal them before anyone could ever notice. It's too late now. Dark pinkish purple blotches of hickeys were littered along the columns of his neck, they inch closer to his adams apple, and near the ending the collar of his leathers. His fingers danced along the area, brief images of you flashed through his mind.
Your hair completely undone, your clothes thrown over the bed, Azriel leaned back against the pillows, your hands placed on his chest holding you upright. The sounds of wet squelching and skin slapping against skin, filled the room, both of your moans repeating in unison. He let you grind and bounce against him but at one point your pace was beginning to slow down and you needed some help. His grip on your hips moved across your back to the back of your neck securing you to his chest. His other hand moved to grip the area between your ass and thigh, he lifted his legs and hips as he pounded into you relentlessly harder, his pace picking up in speed. Each time he kept hitting that one spot. Your breath catches in your throat every now and then, your lips feverishly kissing and nipping at his beautiful skin, you were encouraging him to keep going. Azriel enjoyed it, thrived on it.
Your hands that were in his hair released their hold, you reached to grip his arms, the sheets, the headboard anything, You whined and moaned the pleasure becoming overwhelmingly delicious. “ Fuck-Az-“
“ Feels good doesn’t it?” He hums with you as he rolls his hips hitting impossibly deeper into you. At this point you were becoming a babbling mess, drool was starting to slip past your lips. “You love it when I fuck you like this, needy and cock drunk” his shadows, moved to assist him, a few wrap themselves around your thighs helping their master, while the others moved to toy with your clit.
“ Ah-Ah-mmm-“ You whined
“ Yeah?” He chuckled darkly as he brought your lips back to his, as he swallowed your moans-
Banging on the door caught his attention, he heaved a quiet sigh as he yanked it open, Rhys leaned against the door, Cassian Standing directly behind him. To which Cassian scrunches his face “It looks like you got attacked by a Love vampire”
Azriel tilted his head “ Earlier you said they look like Giant Raspberries”
“ Of course but up close they look like vampire bits” Cassian squints, his eyes as he moves closer to get a good look at him. Rhys gets squished into the door, as the big man with wings tries to make it through.
Rhys turned his head towards his brother behind him “My fearsome brother, General of the Illryians is calling someone a Love Vampire. I do worry about you Cass.” Azriel fought the urge to laugh as tried to understand what his brother was getting at. Rhys turned so his back could rest against the threshold crossing his arms. His eyebrows shoot up in amusement.
“ I am a fearsome General-Don’t- Listen a Love vampire is a vampire who thrives on love. That’s what I think she is” Cassian was extremely positive in his idea that he worked on the minute he seen Azriel’s hickeys.
“ You seem oddly confident, that she is a-” Azriel replies.
“ -Love vampire” Rhys finishes for him.
“I’m serious!” Cassian swears.
“ How long has this been going on?” Rhys waves off Cassian as he questions his brother, Cassian rolled his eyes before nodding his head in agreement. Azriel uncrossed his arms scratching the back of his neck. His cheeks reddened slightly, under the gaze of his brothers who poked at his love life, it was uh- different. It wasn’t something he was used to. He’s kept you in the dark for so long now the truth is out. Not that he was mad about it, but he was nervous and shy, this wasn’t how he planned it.
“ About three years. I only found out she was my mate a year ago. The snap took place when you returned home..” He says, Rhys’s face contorted into surprised, Cassian gasps.
“ How did you meet this Love Vampire?” Cassian asks as he now crosses his own arms.
“ Cass she’s not a love vampire. She’s fae and I met her in the training room, Madja has an apprentice.”
“ Ahh lovely Y/N. She’s been helping Amren with adjusting to her new, Fae body. Does Y/N make you happy?” Rhys asks softly.
“ Yes”
“ THE Y/N?????? WHAT?????!!!!!!” Cassian booms, causing both Rhys and Azriel to glare at their dear brother. “ I can’t believe this! -Feyre call for Y/N!”
“ What?!” Feyre calls out from the dining room.
“ CALL FOR Y/N!”
“ Cass I don’t think that’s necessary” Rhys sighs.
Azriel growls at his brother “ Cass don’t-“ Cassian moves away from his brothers and the bathroom heading for Feyre. His wings flared behind him. Within a few seconds you had appeared into the home. You standing next to Feyre checking up on her since she had called upon you. You however were slightly distracted by Azriel’s presence through the bond. You could feel his anxiety mixed with a type of shyness. Rhys was nowhere to be found. Cassian marched into the room grabbing your arm and dragging you towards the bathroom.
“ Cass-I have to go back to Feyre- She called for me-why are you dragging me to the bathroom?” Rhys stood in the front of the doorway blocking your view from the bathroom. You knew Azriel was behind him but the fact that Rhys stood in your way told you something was off. Not to mention how Azriel felt exposed through the bond. “Is everything alright?” You tried to peer over Rhys’s shoulder but you couldn’t, you were too short.
Rhys nodded “ Yes everything is alright, Cassian decided it was his business to announce your relationship between you and Azriel out loud”
“ My-My relationship but-“ You cleared your throat “-I don’t know what you are talking about…”
“ Yes you do, and I am appalled that you as your best friend never told me about this!” Cassian fake cries “ Just show her Rhys” He turns away covering his face. You rolled your eyes, Rhys fighting his own laughter turned to the side allowing you to see your mate, your husband, standing there with a sheepish smile on his face.
“Ooh-nooo… I am so sorry” You winced as you stepped through the bathroom forgetting about how your relationship is now known to the entire inner circle. You reached for his face and jaw. Azriel placed his hands around your hips, his thumbs caressing your sides.
“ It’s fine.” He whispers, his sheepish smile turning warm and inviting, happy.
“ No it’s not, normally I’m not this careless-I’m sorry” You turned his head to the sides, you ran your hands along the column of his throat the hickeys healing with each tender touch. Rhys and Cassian grinned from ear to ear, as they left the space, giving the two of you some privacy. He reached a hand upward to cup your own cheek
“ It's alright Y/N, they were bound to find out eventually, it was a matter of time. Cass thinks you’re a Love Vampire” Azriel chuckles.
You laughed softly, shaking your head, you removed your hands from his neck. “ Of course he did, he’s been trying to guess who I spend all my time with for the past two years” You moved out of his hold and toward the door. It was still open and the voices of your friends sounded off in the background. Azriel reached for your wrist, pulling you back to him. He leaned down, capturing your lips with his, the kiss slow and sweet. He pulled back resting his forehead against yours. “ We gotta go Az” You tell him gently.
“ I know, just a few more minutes” He says with his eyes closed.
“ Az we can’t” You giggled.
“ If we go out there I have to share you”
“ Yeah well you can blame Cassian for that. Come on” You pulled away, you took his hand in yours tugging him out of the bathroom. He reluctantly follows you out into the open, where the entire inner circle beamed with excitement.
Rhys smiled with Feyre tucked under his arm, who shared the same expression. “ I do believe you owe us an explanation”
“ A love story perhaps” Elain chimes in.
“ Can someone tell the story because I want to know how this was kept secret the whole time” Cassian shouts from the back. Nesta shakes her head barely there but a noticeable grin shines. Amren crosses her arms and even she couldn’t fight the happiness she felt. Mor squeals with joy as she rushes towards you taking you into her arms. A pink tint flushed against Azriel’s skin,his hand still connected to yours as he pulled you back towards him after Mor let go.
You looked at Azriel ‘It’s your call’ you tell him through the bond. Azriel returns your heartfelt gaze, a simple nod was all you received. It was your okay signal, you squeezed his hand pulling him back to the table. Everyone sat down, an extra chair was added for you so that you could sit next to him. The two of you looked toward each other one more time as you both took a deep breath releasing all the nervousness. Your gazes drift back to the group.
Azriel clears his throat. “ Do you remember that time I disappeared for a few days-“
“ WAIT? YOU-“Cass started
“ SHUT UP CASS!” The entire group shouted at him, the two of you chuckled, as the group began to argue again. The two of you wouldn’t have it any other way.
#azriel spymaster#azriel shadowsinger#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#azriel x female!reader#azriel smut#azriel fluff#acotar fluff#acotar smut#acotar#acotar x you#acotar x reader#poc reader#x poc reader#x reader#fanfic#x y/n#imagines
594 notes
·
View notes
Text
mark of an angel - e.m.
Eddie Munson x Reader
‖ summary: It's hard to convince your tattoo artist boyfriend to allow you to get art done by someone other than him, so this time, you go out of your way to make it a surprise for him.
‖ tags: fluff, like will make you sick to your stomach sweet. reader is described as afab, no pronouns used, nickname is angel (aka the whole fic), established relationship, it gets a little spicy but nothing explicit. it's just really cute and fluffy BYE
‖ word count: 2.6k
Having a tattoo artist for a boyfriend meant it was very, very difficult to mention getting a tattoo and not have him immediately jumping at the bit to do it. Going on and on about how you were the perfect canvas, how much he wanted to exaggerate the beauty already there with whatever art you wanted. Normally it wasn’t an issue – Eddie was an amazing artist with enough practical knowledge to do any style you asked for, even if it wasn’t his preferred method.
It had always gone the same way. You’d mention an idea, maybe even an artist you wanted to get it from, he’d encourage you but also mention he could do the same thing for cheaper (“Just for my angel.”). He’d be able to change every millimeter of it to your liking and touch it up in the comfort of your own home. Between his soft, deep convincing and his wandering hands, you almost always gave in.
Which is why, this time, you didn’t even mention the idea to him. Didn’t even mention that you had an idea or that you had an appointment. In fact, you might’ve actually lied about what you were going to do today. You couldn’t remember if it had even come up. But now you were sporting a fresh sheet of Saniderm above a delicate piece of script on your right hip, hidden beneath the dress you’d worn for the day, and walking into the apartment you shared with Eddie like everything was normal.
“Honey, I’m home!” You call into the door as you open it, not even bothering to check if his keys were on the hook. If he wasn’t back yet, then you’d just get to hear him say the same thing whenever he did get home. But his keys are on the hook and you get further confirmation of his presence by the echo of your call.
“My wife has returned from the war!” Is the dramatic reply that comes from the vague direction of the kitchen, causing an amused snort to leave your nose. “God, I hope she still has all her limbs!”
Toeing your shoes off by the door, you follow the siren song of your humming boyfriend until you catch sight of him. His long, messy waves are spun up into a bun on the back of his head, a few wayward strands tucked behind his ears. His head is tipped forward so he can keep a close eye on the concoction simmering on the stove, his shoulders rolled forward as he focuses on it like if he looks away for even a moment it will either catch on fire or grow legs and run off. His black tank top is well worn and loose, his black-ink covered arms leaning on the counter on either side of the stove. Navy blue sleep pants hang low on his hips that continue for an unbelievably long time on his lanky legs before they pool around his bare feet on the tile. The cherry on top is the bright yellow tartan apron tied around his waist.
You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you press the side of your cheek into his shoulders. “Not your wife,” you remind him cheekily, before your voice drops into a teasing murmur. “And would you still love me even if I hadn't returned with all my limbs?”
“Not my wife yet,” he emphasizes, way too casually for the speed with which it makes your chest burst into excited butterflies. “Second,” he clears his throat in preparation before launching into a high-pitched whine, “would you still love me if I was a worm?” A laugh sputters out of you, turning your head to try to hide it in his back. His voice returns to normal as he shifts, one of his arms draping across yours. “Of course I would still love you if you lost a limb. Actually, have you ever thought about losing an eye? I think you would look really hot with an eye patch.”
You peek around so he can see the obvious pout you give him. “I thought you liked my eyes.”
He turns on you in an instant, dislodging your arms in his haste and nearly sending you both off balance. His hands grip your biceps while his big, wet, brown eyes double in size. “I fucking love your eyes, angel.” He says, as if he can’t believe he had made such a mistake. You can’t help but melt – shrinking inches as you relax in his hold. His face softens an equal amount as his lips part in a smile as sweet as honey. “Like little windows into your soul.” A hand leaves your shoulder to cup your jaw, a calloused thumb smoothing across your cheek as thick lashes brush his own in a slow blink. “I just, y’know,” the smile grows goofy, one shoulder tipping up in a shrug, “I think you’d be a hot pirate is all.”
“Tell you what, hot shot,” the nickname matched with his gaze catching down to your smile causes the tips of his ears to immediately flush pink, to your delight, “You get us a sea faring vessel and learn how to cook without catching shit on fire, then we can talk about getting me an eye patch.”
His jaw drops in obvious offense at the cooking comment. “I can abso– Y’know what just for that, you can’t have any of the– Wait, fuck,” he spins back to the stove, immediately digging into the pot with a wooden spoon to scrape the bottom and make sure it’s not burning. You can’t help but giggle at the irony; him defending his cooking while you distract him enough to potentially mess up said cooking. A glare is leveled over his shoulder, kicking his heel back into your shin to knock you away. “This is fucking sabotage,” his voice is full of false disdain that fades quickly, “I come home – after a hard days work – slaving over a hot stove, being a goddamn domestic goddess – and you dare question my authority.”
“And what authority is that, exactly?” You taunt back, walking backwards away from him. “The authority on finding a way to burn Easy Mac?”
“You little!” He lunges toward you but you move out of the way too quickly, dodging out of his grasp and rocketing down the hallway, giggling all the way. “This isn’t over!”
You push into your shared bedroom and swing the door mostly shut behind you, stripping your dress over your head and throwing it into the hamper beside your dresser. Approaching the full length mirror in the room, you lift the hem of your undershorts to expose the entirety of the Saniderm to the open air. Still irritated around the edges and leaking a bit of ink, is a delicate script of the word ‘angel’, the nickname Eddie has called you since the two of you started dating several years ago.
He’d been calling you angel for a few weeks when you finally got around to asking. “Can I ask why you call me that? I don’t think I really give off an angel vibe.”
“Well, if you’re thinking of an innocent, virginal, white-lingerie angel, then no, you don’t.” You glared at him and he looked endlessly amused by it. “I’m thinking more of the biblical, vengeful, warrior-type angel. Beautiful and smart and will righteously kick your ass.”
“Oh yeah? So you admit I could kick your ass?” You asked, trying to avoid the flattery.
“Fuck yeah,” he choked out in a laugh, like he couldn’t believe you were surprised. “I mean, I would put up a little bit of a fight... But only enough to make it not look like I was letting you because I’m into that.”
“Eddie!” You cried out, laughing through your embarrassment as he threw you a wink and cackled out into the night air.
Now you had the term of endearment permanently etched on your body and you were quite happy with it. Even if, god forbid, you and Eddie broke up, you would still be able to look at it and remember that you were beautiful, smart, and strong. A biblical angel of righteous fury. It made you feel powerful. Divinely feminine.
After taking a few moments to admire your new art, you set back to your task of changing into some comfortable clothes before dinner. Making sure to put on a pair of shorts that were the perfect length to hide the actual tattoo but still have the Saniderm peeking out the bottom as a tease. You layered a big t-shirt over them, pulling on a pair of thick comfy socks to counteract the chilly floors of your apartment, and taking off any of your accessories from the day. Satisfied, you padded back out into the kitchen just as Eddie was putting the finishing touches on your alfredo dinner.
“What would you like to drink with our gourmet meal, madam chef?” You ask while brushing past his back to get at the fridge, preemptively grabbing a beer for him and a wine cooler for you just as he confirms that he does indeed want the beer in your hand. “Do you already have plates and shit or should I grab some?”
“All good, angel, just go sit your pretty ass down on the couch and I will serve you like the queen you are.”
You’re rolling your eyes as you walk away from him and set both of your drinks on the coffee table in front of the couch. “You’re absolutely incorrigible, anyone ever told you that?”
“Only every day,” he confirms with a grin, walking your direction with two steaming bowls and silverware in either hand. He still has his silly little apron over his pajamas and you can’t fight the sickly sweet smile from tilting your mouth as he sets them down in your usual spots on the table before joining you on the couch. “Hello, love.” He murmurs with a purr, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek before reaching to twist open his beer. “How was your day?”
“Pretty good, got done everything I had planned to do.” He raises his bottle in silent cheers to congratulate you before taking a long sip. “How about you, handsome? How was your day?”
Even after all this time, something as simple as calling him handsome still seems to make him trip up. It makes you incredibly weak for him. “Not, uh, not so bad. Messed up my back a bit bending over to tattoo a client today. Didn’t remember my posture lessons.”
“For shame,” you admonish, taking a sip of your own drink as you both face each other on the couch, already almost completely forgetting about your dinner. “Maybe I should withhold a shoulder massage from you, make sure you learn your lesson.”
"You wouldn't dare," he gasps, to which you give a noncommittal shrug. He flops back against the cushions dramatically, moaning loudly. “This is abuse! Abuse, I say!”
You’re quick to set your drink down and lay down on top of him, your braless chest pressing down against his tank top. His hands lower to grip your hips, his eyebrows raising as the tip of his tongue comes out to wet his lips. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” You bat your eyelashes down at him, putting on your best ‘fuck me’ eyes as you rest your hands on his shoulders.
Without warning, he wraps an arm around your waist and uses the grip to flip you, sending you to the cushions with a yelp as he settles on top, the wild pieces of hair falling free from his bun and hanging down between you both. “I’m sure we can think of something,” he says directly into your ear, dipping down to the skin just below to press his lips to it.
“Eddie?” You place your hands up on his shoulders, your voice betraying his effect on you as it wavers. “Our dinner is going to get cold.”
He hums, nose dragging along the side of your neck as he nudges his way down to press a kiss to your collarbone. “I think I found something else I would much rather eat.”
You’re about to admonish him further, explain that he might not be hungry but you are, when the hand that isn’t holding him up skates down your right thigh towards your shorts and brushes the edge of the Saniderm. It takes him a few moments to register what he just touched and the entire time you’re holding your breath. When he finally pushes himself up off of you to lean back on his knees, his eyebrows are drawn together in concern, eyes trained on the plastic stuck to your skin. “Is that…?”
“Yup,” you answer, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
“A surprise?” He echoes, fingers twitching like he wants to grab at you again. “Am I allowed to see?”
Propping yourself up on your elbows, you fist your hand into his collar to pull him down into a kiss to calm your nerves. He hesitantly returns the affection until you release him and lay back down along the cushions with a satisfied smile. “Go for it, handsome.”
To your surprise, his hands are a bit shaky as he reaches down to push back the hem of your shorts. For his work, he learned how to combat anything that could have made his hands shake, so you’re worried you’ve pushed him too far with this surprise. As he gently lifts the hem, you straighten out your leg, giving him a full view of the newest art etched into your skin.
His eyes almost double in size as he takes in the script, his lips parting in what looks like awe as he ghosts his thumb over the plastic covering between him and your skin. He glances back and forth between the new art and your face for a period of time long enough to make you even more nervous, drawing your lower lip between your teeth. “So? What do you think?”
It seems to make him realize he hasn’t said anything yet. “You got ‘angel’ because…?” His hand turns out in a question as he swallows heavily, glancing back at your face for support.
“I’m your angel,” you offer softly, now a bit unsure. “Right?”
His parted lips stretch into a bright grin that could truly be from the heavens themselves. “My angel,” he repeats back to you, sounding absolutely astounded. “How on Earth did I get so fucking lucky?”
The smile that returns to you is wide enough to make your cheeks hurt. “By being you, Eddie Munson. Just by being you.”
His mouth bends, lips pressing together, he looks like he’s trying to battle off tears. “That’s it, final straw, I’m marrying your sweet ass tomorrow, I can’t wait anymore, it’s over, you’ve killed me.” He ducks down and rubs his face into your stomach, tickling you as you break out into giggles.
“Eddie, stop, that tickles!”
“Nope!” He answers cheerfully, tilting his head back to rest his chin on your belly button. “I’m gonna cover you in kisses, then I’m gonna eat you out until you can’t remember your own name, and then tomorrow we’re gonna go to the courthouse and I’m gonna give you my name instead. Sound like a deal, angel?”
And with the absolute joy in his eyes, the sparkle of life and mischief, you forget all the reasons the two of you had decided to wait. None of them matter when you want nothing more than to spend the rest of your life with your best friend.
“Deal.”
-
-
-
-
#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson comfort#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#myos ideas#myo4munson
670 notes
·
View notes
Text
FANFIC REC bdsm
Something in the World Today (It shouldn’t be a surprise, the first time that Louis drops to his knees in front of Harry. It shouldn’t be, because it’s been something that Louis has needed for a long time. It shouldn’t be, because he’s been crawling out of his skin for weeks on end. It shouldn’t be, because Harry always makes him feel better. It shouldn’t be, because he’s needed this even when he didn’t know that he needed it.) (48K)
Could you love me anyway ( Harry and Louis begin playing ping pong during the X-Factor Tour. It quickly gets out of hand.) (13k)
give me forever for a while ( light sweet kittenplay because Harry owns multiple collars and he has to use them for something, right?) (5k)
daddy daddy cool (harry wakes up hard.) (6k)
Take Our Bodies Higher ( In which Harry is a phone sex operator and Louis dials a wrong number.) (21k)
Only Write By The Moon (Harry's desparate while Louis sleeps.) (4k)
Lay So Still (Harry’s almost there but he needs Louis to push it further, just a bit further. Because it’s good, it’s damn near perfect but there’s still something missing, and Harry’s not above begging, never has been when it comes to Louis.) (3k)
honey is it time to spin (Harry Styles is contemplating getting drunk, but decides at the very least, he's definitely getting laid tonight.) (3k)
tie you down so you can float away (Harry makes a very pretty work of art. But it's more than that, for both of them.) (5k)
skip a beat and move with my body ((Harry and Louis are roommates. Harry fucks whoever Louis wants as form of paying rent) (6k)
i cannot reach your heart (Harry flees like he always does, leaving a basket of fresh fruit and the prospect of his imminent heat. Somehow, Louis still ends up running after him.) (40k)
do you know me by heart (Harry comes back wearing alphas' scents, a pleased smile and a lace dress. Somehow, Louis still ends up making him come until he cries.) (7k)
however do you want me, however do you need me (Louis loves Harry—he loves being his boyfriend, loves being soft and gentle with the person he cares for the most. But there must be something seriously wrong with him; why would he crave to be rough in a moment so delicate, with a person he’d never otherwise dream of hurting?) (7k)
violence of my own touch (Louis hasn’t said anything, but Harry knows something is wrong. Harry’s rut had ended a few days ago, and Louis had kept him under as best as he could.) (5k)
Champagne (“Look at how pretty you are,” Louis murmurs, Harry’s stockinged toes curling against the floor at the praise, “Give Daddy a twirl, baby.”) (2k)
Make Tea, Not War ( Louis attempts to become a better flatmate, much to Harry's dismay.) (20k)
it's all for you, everything i do (Harry's needy, Louis plays bored.) (2k)
ain't had none like you in a while (It kind of sucks that instead of using time travel to go back and kill Hitler, Simon Cowell chooses to use it to get his clients to advise younger versions of themselves. Sixteen-year-old Harry's not bitter, it's just that his relationship with Louis was complicated enough before he saw him with hot dad hair.) (12k)
I'd do Niall ( Harry gets to do Niall. Because Louis gives his permission.) (7k)
that boy's got my heart in a silver cage (The whole thing is addictive somehow, and not just because of the way that it makes Louis feel, like Harry is his and he'll do anything he says—but because of the way Harry reacts to it, even in public, twisting in his seat and tripping over his words and once even briefly hiding his face in Louis's shoulder because he's so flustered, causing the girls in the audience to squeal and shout.) (3k)
leave you drowning until you reach for my hand (If Louis told him to do something that he really didn't want to do, it would be different, but Louis's never done that, never asked anything of Harry that he couldn't handle. Except—except maybe this; to obey him without praise, reward, approval, or even mere acknowledgement.) (16k)
You'll Breathe Me In (You Won't Release) ( the AU where Louis is a 25-year-old driving instructor and Harry is a 17-year-old virgin who's really awful at seduction, except for the time he gets Louis to fall for him and fuck him senseless and take him on kinky adventures.) (95k)
smile in slow motion ( Louis is Harry's dom and maybe also his soulmate.) (24k)
use somebody ( Louis and Harry invite Nick to a threesome but it's not what Nick had in mind, exactly.) (5k)
Switch Out The Batteries ( Two years after meeting in a sex shop, Harry's just returning to Louis from a month-long tour in the States, and they come up with a wholesome bonding exercise.) (88k)
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Favorite Passage I’ve Ever Written
Over the past few months I have been slowly piecing together the beginnings of a novel I one day want to finish, but with a mix of my ADHD and the difficulty of writing both the subject matter and in the style that I want to write it, progress has been intensely slow. However, one of the first things that I wrote for this project was the end, so I wanted to post that here, with a little bit of context.
The project is by and large a retelling of my Grandfather’s life, who passed away from complications due to Alzheimer’s in late 2020. Before he started losing his memory, back in 2002, he wrote and privately published a memoir amongst our family, of which I got a copy. Using his memoir, my memories of him, and a bit of creative liberty, I came up with the idea to retell his life, as well as his gradual descent into Alzheimer's, at the same time, as I find Alzheimer's terrifying, but also something rarely explored in art. He also is the single most remarkable man I have ever met, and wanted to retell his life.
One of the first things I wrote on this project was the final scene, where the narrator finally dies, after being tortured with the inability to feel and remember, for months on end. So, here is one of my favorite passages of prose I have ever written:
“My mind swims in darkness. I cannot feel my arms. I cannot feel my legs. At least I remember what those are. I think a carpet is at my feet. I cannot feel it in between my toes. I cannot feel the carpet, and my world is darker than dark. But, in the darkness, there is a faint blip of color–of sensation and feeling, which explodes into a light, not angry and red and powerful like the light of the angry sky at dusk, but instead warm and welcoming, which presents a figure that stands above me in the retirement home which I have spent my final months in, a figure which is familiar to me: a figure that I married so many years ago, who died silently in her sleep in a recliner at my daughters house, a figure who welcomes me with opened arms, and a figure which I approach with my own open arms, arms that I can now move and feel, walking towards her with legs that I can now move and feel, and I feel the soft, curly carpet between my toes, and I feel it give under the weight of my fragile bones, and I feel Adelade’s warmth as I embrace her in the first hug I have given her in the years since her death, and for the first time I can feel. I can feel her, I can feel my own self, I can feel happiness and sadness and all the emotions now that she is there in front of me, softly holding me in her delicate arms, a softness which wells an emotion up inside me–one that I missed so dearly, and I sob. I can feel the tear running down my cheek, and it makes me happy to feel that again. I took for granted feeling after wallowing in the nothing that I had existed in for so long, and I never thought that not feeling, swamped and suffocating in a darkness and confusion so thick that I forgot how to forget, would be so terrifying, so numbing, so cold. I forgot how to feel for so long, and now I am here, in my wife's silent arms, crying, and I can feel those tears. In her embrace I see the memories flashing before my closed eyelids, the memories blurred by the tears I shed, and I can see it all: the Speights farm, the New Hope school, the dust and the dirt, the angry sky, our ramshackle hut, the fishing club, my broom closet at college, my wedding, Adelade dressed in the most beautiful dress that I had ever seen, and still the most beautiful woman in the most beautiful dress I could imagine, my time with her, my time with my son, my daughter, their kids, my time working as a professor, my roll of crisp fifties, I see it all, and I feel alive again, with my memories that I had lost long ago, again indexed in a way where I could recall anything that I wanted when I smelled a smell or tasted a taste or saw an object that reminded me of the colorful past that I had once lived that experienced a gradual fade to black over the past years, until that black faded away into a nothing that I could not even perceive. I back away from that hug to see her face again, and she smiles at me, her hands on my shoulder. Oh how I missed that touch. She does not speak. She does not need to speak. She is here, and I know that she is, and that is the most I could ever ask for. She takes a hand off my shoulder and takes my hand and laces her fingers in between mine, and we walk to the other side of the window, a place where we never even thought to look, a place we were scared to see, a place we could not comprehend.
She does not talk. And I’m okay with that. I remember who she is, I know who she is, and she is here with me for the first time since I started forgetting, and that is the most I could ever ask for.”
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
The morning sun shines above Japan, the summer morning was setting in across the land and shining it’s sunlight past the white blinds of the window of a large luxury apartment in the country side’s North.
The room the sun is shining through is a neat attire with very small mess on the desk and floor, house slippers pressed neatly against the bed’s bottom edge in a color line of spring green to deep royal purple and cream white all in equal softness, a tool box placed by the door to the left, shirts pants on the floor as if making a small path to the desk pressed against the wide side window with a few books and a high tech computer setup that makes a soft whiirr-ing sound from the big block of machine power tucked under in a cubby built in underneath.
In the bed itself rests three forms, one tall and muscular coated in tan skin with light scars and forever smudges with his two big arms holding close two pale figures on each side as if they’ll slip away, one medium in height and muscle with short back hair and thick yet well groomed black eyebrows and a much smaller much thinner brunette with the cutest face in the world even covered in small drool and somewhat sleep circles under those light colored curled lashes.
The bedroom door opened and three figures in different sizes tip toe in slowly, the leader of the party holding a wooden tray of breakfast items.
“父の日 おめでとう! (Chichinohi omedetou!/Happy Father’s Day!)” The three voices scream, causing the three adults in the bed to jump and blink fast. The middle man groans as the black haired gent sits up face and looks at the faces in front of his blurry fresh out of sleep vision.
We have the small yet taller feature is the one with pale mauve bob cut with sparkling blossom pink-orange eyes who’s holding the large tray in question Chako, behind her is the adorably face slightly shorter with fluffy seeming yet stiff in place laird of many light brown tied back in a ponytail and big wave like brown green eyes A.E, and finally the smallest one of the three in front of the group is the sweet and adorably sweet heart with spiky curly of ashy white hair and the biggest more sweet ruby sapphire clashing eyes to match that kind smile so big and wide in Ishida.
Chako placed the breakfast in bed style table on the laps of her fathers and gave Chihiro a good kiss on the head with A.E. followed after while Ishida crawled his little body up the bed and snuggled between Mondo, who’s still laying with sleep dancing in his eyes, and Kiyotaka, who sat up and already misty eye over the gesture.
Happy Father's day everyone!
So, I witness in my Danganronpa AU poll recently that I asked is Kiyondo should be in it and well-
So I decided to cheat a bit~
So, meet the Fujisaki-Ishimaru kids!
Chako is basically AI Chiaki since I may not fully find the anime canon but do like the implication of Chiaki being a real girl then get a A.I. based off her by Chihiro which implies friendship or something
She picked her name herself after talking to the real Chiaki
A.E. or Ae as people call him is if you guessed the letters Alter Ego! I recently began to watch Infinity Train and got inspired by Lake/Mirror Tulip when coming up with Chako and Ae in this AU of Chihiro (with help from others like Soda) made robot bodies for them and the three dads kind of gave them the choices of picking their person, so Ae is how Ae is.
And finally the loophole: Ishida!
In the au I'm debating on having Peko act as a surrogate mother while Mondo donated his sperm after discussing kids together and Chihiro was the one who named him after what Ae mentioned from memory after Mondo's execution of Kiyondo Ishida.
I will make art of the family don't worry!
0 notes
Text
New Updated version of facts to my oc's Vol 1
I deleted the old ones so I can create a better understanding of them since time went on plus i'm adding more oc's onto here so here we go
Miki Fujikawa
Favorite food Beef fried rice
She can do different styles but she mainly does Ninjutusu and ti kune do.
She has a hidden talent of hiding her Kunai on her that questions everyone around her.
She's the only one that never did a work study or internship in class
Due to her training her body has learn to adapt to the cold but her sensitive to the heat.
Surprisingly excels at ikebana and shamisen plus has a great singing voice.
Bakugou nickname for her is stripper because she takes of her shirt whenever she fights and reveal a sarashi since she always wears one even not fighting.
She likes Ninjas and lotus blossoms.
Was taken by widow after the licences exam
Has a high pain tolerance due to her training.
Comes from a wealthy family due to her family being one of the oldest hero family.
First member of the group to get a hero licences at an early age due to special circumstances.
Is jealous of eri and momo at first due to (eri being save and not her when she needed the most) Momo for being tall and people liking her so easily) But later it changes.
Was once friends with hawks but something change and he wants to get back in her good grace.
Likes to thrifts shopping and manga hunting thanks to sero.
Namine Shozo
Favorite food Bomboloni
She is Ambidexterity even before her arm was cut off
Likes Italian sweets and milk coffee.
Back in Seiai academy she had a rival with Saiko Intelli and Nagasawa silvia but nagasawa ended during the asylum.
Was taken before the overhaul raid.
Due to her father she had learn military strategies since she was a little girl.
Was a former anorixia due to her mother dieting from young age.
Her work study is with musketeer.
Bakugou nickname to her is twinkle toes.
She puts on different scented lotion due to her quirk because of the smell and downside of it.
Called the jack of all trades in school.
The reason why she uses silver backswords cause it is to gripped.
Has a to take off her arm if she needs to sleep and it hurts putting it back on.
Has overprotective brothers.
Wants to find a boyfriend that doesn't love her not just on her looks.
Hotaru Kazami
Has Autism and anxiety.
Likes Art and fireworks.
Favorite food Pancakes.
She live on her own during middle school.
She was in the same classes as kirishima back in middle school even hung out a bit here and there before high school.
Back at during Ketsubutsu Academy she use to train with ms joke but she was drop a few month later.
Bakugou nickname for her pixie
She was taking during the UA cultural festival.
Her art style is mostly drawing and painting but learning how to spray paint.
Her work study is Pyroflare at first then work for a bit with gizpunk and fatgum later on.
Besides gunslinger she does a bit of archery and gymnastics.
May look petite but strong enough to carry someone.
When she gets excited her freckles release little star sparks out.
Got the idea of using rollerblading from her mom.
Been into gymnastics since she kindergartner and was paid for by her grandparents.
Taira Kojika
Favorite food Melon bread with butter.
Likes Old books.
Only member of her family that doesn't have a healing quirk
Went to the same elementary and middle school with iida.
She was taken when mirio fought class 1-A
Her hobbies are calligraphy and
Back during shiketsu high she was in the same class as Inasa Yaorashi.
She does swimming and boxing to help with her quirk.
Her work study was with crust now its recovery girl.
She loves to watch soap opera drama.
One inch taller then momo.
Reason why she use her quirk on her hands because they are the most important tool for a doctor.
Has a habit of lifting her glasses like with iida hand chopping.
Can get jealous of her sister sometimes.
Likes to listen classic music and a fan of pop.
#1other ocs#mha ocs#bnha oc#my hero academia oc#boku no hero academia oc#my ocs are my children#oc's headcaon
0 notes
Text
Headlights | pjm (m)
Summary- Jimin is a fuckboi, rumor has it his tongue can make you see stars. Everyone assumes he’s this way because he just wants to have fun. No one dares look deeper, no one sees the haunted look in his eyes, the emptiness and pain that reside in their deep brown depths. Until you.
🎶 Headlights by The Classic Crime - “Please don’t face the headlights of oncoming cars alone.” 🎶
Word Count- 14.7k 🥴
Pairing- Jimin x reader
Genre- smut
Warnings- oral (female recieving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slightly rough sex, nipple piercing? is that warning?, some depression-like symptoms/thoughts, a little self destructive behavior? Kind of.
a/n: Part of the Tatted Bangtan Series! This is the longest fic I have ever written and it is my baby. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please let me know what you think! 💕
Walking up to the frat house was intimidating, and you slowed your stride enough for Hana to reach back and yank you with her into the party. You could feel the bass of the music rattling your bones and couldn’t hear Hana as she shouted over the music to you.
“I can’t believe you made me do this!” you hissed, twisting your body around just in time to narrowly miss a drunk football player bulldozing his way through the crowd.
“What?” she shouted back.
You simply rolled your eyes and shook your head, gripping her hand tightly and following her through the overcrowded living room to the barely quieter kitchen. You took the drink she handed you and nursed it slowly, since you liked a good buzz but still wanted a clear head.
You felt his gaze before you saw him; you could feel the shivers along the back of your neck.
You turned to seek out the cause, methodically searching the crowd. Your eyes met the most beautiful pair of brown ones you’d ever seen, the strobe lights from above causing them to almost glow brighter- but that was the only light in his gaze. His eyes looked… sad. Empty.
It seemed like everything else turned blurry, and you could only focus on him in perfect clarity, every feature defined and prominent; every move he made, your eyes followed. Everything else faded away, and you only saw him. Him and his beautiful eyes, full of longing and something you couldn’t quite place.
You couldn’t help but furrow your brow in concern. Your face showed your every emotion like an open book, and you opened your mouth to ask Hana who was staring at you before she squealed, gripping your arm.
“Park Jimin is totally checking you out!” she giggled, tugging on your sleeve excitedly.
“Park Jimin?” you questioned rhetorically.
“He’s famous on campus. He’s hot, rich, and a total freak in the sheets. Rumor has it his tongue can make you see stars. Every girl on campus is dying for a night with him.” she chattered.
“Oh geez.” You rolled your eyes.
“Seriously. The saying is: once you Jimin, you can’t Jim-out. He’s so good in bed, he’s had to get like three restraining orders against girls who can’t let go. They say once you sleep with him no one else will do.” she continued, waving her hands in the air dramatically.
“I’ll take your word for it.” you giggled, glancing over towards Jimin once again.
He was absolutely gorgeous, with perfectly styled light brown hair, soft, plump looking lips, a jawline that could cut someone. His white t-shirt showed off tattoos that danced down his arms, covering the delicate ivory skin beneath. His thighs alone deserved their own wing in an art gallery, beautifully encased in skin tight ripped jeans. You caught yourself staring, clearing your throat and averting your gaze, but something kept drawing you back to him.
He was surrounded by girls, all leaning forward to give him the best view of their cleavage, all doing their best to seduce him, but he looked bored. Lonely. Lost. He sighed and his eyes trailed back to you. He watched you for a moment, noting how you flushed and turned away looking flustered. A smirk played on his lips and he shoved himself off the wall, making his way over to you.
“Shit! He’s coming over here!” Hana whisper-shouted.
You braced yourself, waiting for him to call you out for staring, or yell at you. Your body seemed to be vibrating with nerves because you could feel him getting closer, like your body had a radar that searched him out. Warm breath ghosted over the back of your neck, right under your ear. You shivered.
“Hello, there princess.” he purred.
You spun around, startled, and came face-to-face with Jimin.
He was even more gorgeous up close. He smelled of alcohol and something minty. You couldn’t help basking in the lovely scent that filled your senses for a moment, before leveling your gaze to his. His body wasn’t even two inches from yours. If you leaned up on your toes, you’d be kissing him. You took a step behind you, your back hitting the island in the kitchen.
“Hello,” you greeted in return, willing the heat in your cheeks to look like it was from the humidity in the room and not Jimin’s proximity to you.
“I haven’t seen you around before, are you a Freshman?” he inquired, sending his charming smile your way and making your knees want to buckle.
“No, I just normally don’t come to parties,” you explained, tilting your head towards Hana. “Hana made me.”
“Why not?” he wondered aloud.
“Just… not my scene.” you shrugged.
Jimin watched your face, amusement apparent on his features. He seemed to be contemplating something. Apparently coming to his decision, his smile came back to grace his gorgeous face, but it didn’t reach his eyes, a detail you couldn’t miss even if you’d wanted to.
“Sounds like you need to have a little fun,” he smirked, stepping closer to you, his fingertips trailing along your hips and his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered his next sentence, “I could help you with that. My room is upstairs.”
“I… I, uh… no… no thank you,” you sputtered, placing your hand on his (deliciously firm) chest and gently urging him backwards to put space between your erratically beating heart and his warm, enticing body.
“What?” Jimin asked, genuinely confused.
“I’m not that kind of girl.” you said softly, trying to cushion the blow to his ego.
“You really don’t want to fuck me?” he asked, bewildered.
“Um… no thank you.” You coughed awkwardly.
Jimin stared at you for a moment, reading you. His eyes searched yours, looking for something. You didn’t know what, or if he found it, but when he looked away, he shrugged.
“Your loss.” he turned to the sound of someone calling his name and left you standing there, heart pounding out of your chest and legs weak.
You watched him walk away, plastering on that signature flirty smile that fooled everyone around him. You watched his animated dancing, life of the party, putting on a show. You watched his eyes search the crowd, like his soul was longing to find something, but you didn’t know what.
-♡-
A few weeks had gone by since your encounter with Jimin, and somehow he was everywhere. You saw him on your way to class, laughing with his friends by the fountain. You saw him at the coffee shop, exiting the building as you were about to enter. You saw him in the crowded hallways of your university, heard his infectious laugh bubbling from his chest and dancing through the air.
Even when Jimin wasn’t in your direct line of vision, even when you couldn’t hear the way his melodic voice carried through the air, he was everywhere. Every night since meeting him, you dreamt of sad, empty brown eyes attached to the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. Every other thought that flitted through your mind was about him. What was Jimin up to? Does he look happier today? Was it just that night? Where was he now?
Sitting in the lecture hall next to Hana, you couldn’t pay attention to what the professor was attempting to teach you, a heavy sigh falling from your lips as you doodled a familiar pair of plusher ones. Hana nudged your shoulder.
“What’s up with you lately? You’re like, lost in space or something.” she accused.
“Sorry, just got a lot on my mind,” you sighed, playing with the edges of your notebook distractedly.
“Wanna talk about it?” she wondered.
“How much do you know about Park Jimin?” you asked almost instantly, causing Hana to jump a bit.
“Oh honey…” she sighed, shaking her head, “Don’t go there. Park Jimin is a good fuck if you’re looking to let loose, but I wouldn’t get too invested. Fucking is about all he’s good at. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”
“Do you really think he’s not good for anything but that? I mean, he’s human.” you defended.
“That’s not what I meant, I just know how you are. Don't go crushing on him, he’ll break your heart Y/N. Park Jimin doesn’t do emotions. He does meaningless sex.” she explained.
“I guess…” you trailed off, avoiding her gaze.
“Seriously. Don’t go looking for trouble.” she warned.
“I won’t.” you promised.
“Good. Now, there’s a party this weekend. Are you coming?” she grinned.
A classmate in front of you coughed obnoxiously sending you a glare. You shot them an apologetic smile but lowered your voice. Hana didn’t lower her volume at all though.
“Maybe. I don’t know.” you shrugged.
“Come onnnn. Live a little!” she encouraged.
“If you two ladies have something to share with the class, I’d be more than happy to give you the podium. Otherwise, I’d appreciate it if you’d wait until after class to discuss whatever is so important,” the professor hummed, shooting a glare in your direction.
Immediately silencing yourself, you looked down at your notebook, where the drawing of Jimin’s plush lips stared at you. You stared back, recalling the last time you’d seen him, and how your heart had pounded in your chest violently enough that you thought it was going to come out.
You decided you needed to see him again, which is how you found yourself completely out of place once again at another frat party. Drunk and stoned college kids stumbled around, grinded on each other, made out in corners, and caused all kinds of trouble all around you as you tried to be inconspicuous in your search for Jimin.
“Do you want a drink?” you asked Hana and she nodded, so you ventured into the kitchen to retrieve something for the two of you.
Once you returned, you couldn’t find her anywhere. She had a tendency of wandering off with the first hot guy she set her sights on, but you decided to look for her anyway. You wove between bodies, checking around corners and searching all the obvious places. When you came up empty handed you ventured out the back door, only to notice none other than Park Jimin sitting on the porch swing alone, smoking.
Previous task abandoned, you walked up to him and sat beside him; his eyes lazily trailed up and down your figure as he assessed you, his plump lips turning up into a smirk.
“Didn’t think I’d see you again. Change your mind about my offer?” he smiled seductively.
“No.” you shrugged, offering him the extra cup in your hand, which he took while watching you carefully.
“Seriously? Am I not your type or something? You think I’m ugly?” he wondered, feigning distress.
“That’s not it at all!” you gasped out with a little too much conviction.
“So you find me attractive?” he verified, scooting closer.
“Well, yes,” you admitted, cheeks blazing while you avoided his intense gaze.
“So you do want to fuck me.” He grinned.
“No,” you shook your head.
“Why?” he questioned, letting his fingertips dance along the edge of your shorts.
“Like I said. I’m not that kind of girl. I think sex should be meaningful,” you shrugged, though your body betrayed you with the goosebumps rising at his touch.
“Ah, so you’re one of those hopeless romantics,” he laughed.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” you giggled. “I’m not waiting for a knight in shining armour. I just want it to mean something.”
Jimin focused his gaze on your face, watching you carefully as you fiddled with a stray thread on your blouse. He knew your body reacted to him, he could see the way you shivered, feel the goosebumps on your skin. He didn’t understand why you weren’t jumping at the opportunity to fall into bed with him like everyone else. You were an enigma to him.
You finally met his gaze, curiosity getting the better of you. You had to know if his eyes still held the same look as before, or if it was a one-time thing. You could still see the loneliness, masked by his overconfident demeanor.
“What’s your major?” you asked, changing the subject out of the blue.
“What? Oh, um… dance, actually.” he said, averting his gaze.
“How long have you been dancing?” you wondered.
“Since I was little. Why are you asking this?” he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“Just wondering. I don’t know anything about you,” you easily replied.
“What’s yours?” he countered.
“Creative writing.”
“That’s cool.” he sent you a tentative smile.
“Thanks. So is dancing. I can’t dance to save my life,” you giggled.
“I’m sure you’re not that bad,” he argued, a smile playing on his lips.
“Oh, you haven’t seen bad,” you laughed.
After taking a moment to wonder why you were even outside talking to him and what you could possibly want from him, he pushed his suspicion aside..Jimin rolled his eyes with a smile and stood up, extending his hand out to you. You sent him a questioning look and he just shook his hand until you grabbed it, and he pulled you to your feet. He reached down into his pocket and pulled out his phone, playing a song you hadn’t heard before, but enjoyed nonetheless. It was slow and simple, but still pretty upbeat.
“We’ll try something simple so I can see where you’re at, ok?” Jimin grinned at you, spacing his feet apart and watching your face.
“You’re going to make me dance?” you gasped.
“I’m going to teach you some easy moves. Everyone should know at least one dance move,” he laughed.
“If you watch me fall on my face I can never look you in the eye again,” you grumbled.
“Oh hush. Okay, start with your feet shoulder width apart for balance.” he instructed.
You mimicked his stature, placing your feet shoulder width apart and following his movements that he did slowly so you could catch on. You could tell he was graceful and knew how to move his body, even when he was slowing down and exaggerating his movements so you could keep up. Jimin’s movements were fluid and calculated, each new step had precision but flowed into the next seamlessly. He was made to dance, you decided. And somehow, you didn’t fall under his instruction. He was patient and understanding when you’d mess up, showing you again and praising you when you got it right.
He seemed to be having fun, his laughter filled you with giddiness and his smile seemed genuine, his eyes scrunched up into little crescent moons and his beautiful pearly teeth on display, his hands wrapped around his stomach as he leaned over in another fit of laughter. You giggled along with him, albeit at your own expense, but you loved seeing this side of Jimin, he seemed… happy, carefree. This was the way Jimin was meant to be.
When you messed up again, Jimin laughed, coming over to you and grabbing your hands, showing you how to move your body to the music by leading you with his own. Your back was pressed against his firm chest as he guided you, his hips flush against yours, causing a blush to creep up your neck. Jimin must have noticed the position he’d put you in, but it didn’t stop him. He only pressed closer, whispering in your ear.
“You’re doing so good for me, babygirl,” he purred, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.
You shivered, attempting to turn and pull out of his hold to scold him, but you were interrupted by a loud male voice coming from inside the house.
“Yo Park where the hell have you been? We need help in beer pong! Oh-” a tall man you recognized as Hoseok froze at the sight.
Jimin cleared his throat and stepped away from you. Hana peered around Hoseok from behind him, curious to what was going on. Her eyes widened when she saw you, and she gave you a look of disappointment, knowing you hadn’t listened to her warning. You looked away, avoiding her gaze as Jimin breezed past you to follow Hoseok inside. Hana watched you for a moment before following them inside, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
-♡-
It had been a few days since your dancing lesson with Jimin, and seeing him in such a comfortable, happy state hadn’t really done much to take him off your mind, especially not after seeing his eyes glaze over and the mask slip right back on as soon as Hoseok called his name. How he’d breezed past you like you didn’t exist after what felt like a special moment shared between the two of you.
Maybe Hana was right… maybe all he wanted was sex. Your anxiety was telling you he was playing with your emotions, but you knew better. You saw something in Jimin, something no one else seemed to notice. The small amount of time you’d spent with him when he had let his guard down had given you the opportunity to see what potential he had.
Jimin didn’t have to be tough and closed off. He could be fun and open and sweet. He could be thoughtful and patient and encouraging. He could be silly and smart and dedicated. He was talented and hard working. You’d spent maybe an hour alone with Jimin at the party that night, and in that small frame of time, you’d seen a glimpse of the real him shine through that facade he put on for everyone else.
You wanted to see it again.
You took’d taken a trip into the city to do some sight seeing and clear your restless mind, having been driven crazy going in circles. It had taken longer than you’d anticipated, so you’d opted to take a taxi home with the sun having gone down a while ago and the stars making their appearance. You watched the cityscape fly by, lost in your own little world. The closer you got to campus, the more you paid attention, knowing the bridge that overlooked the beautiful skyline would be coming soon.
You watched the water below ripple gently, small waves dancing across the surface of the river underneath the bridge. It was beautiful, reflections of the city lights shining and shimmering in the water. You glanced up at the other end of the bridge and saw a figure standing there, alone. It kind of looked like…
“Sir, stop the car. Pull over please!” you begged the driver.
He shot you a curious look but pulled to the side of the road. You handed him your fare and dashed away from the car towards the figure. Once you realized he wasn’t going to jump or do anything stupid, you slowed your stride, watching him as you quietly made your way over to him. Jimin was lost in thought and didn’t notice you approaching him. He watched the waves longingly, as if he wished he were floating away in them, part of the nothingness. Like he wanted to disappear into the water and drift away into the sea.
The look in his eyes as he gazed out into the unknown was haunted, and it tore at your heart to see him look so empty. They say the eyes are the window to the soul, and if that’s true, Jimin’s soul seemed broken. You wanted to know why. He had it all. He had money, good looks, friends, girls, what could possibly be missing? Why did he look so dejected?
You gently placed your hand on his shoulder and he jumped slightly upon realizing he wasn’t alone, turning to face you. His gaze met yours in silence, he watched your face for a moment, then his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“Y/N?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing. I was riding by and saw you, I wanted to make sure you were okay. What are you doing up here all alone?” you wondered.
Jimin turned to face you fully now, looking down at you with a hard expression.
“Why do you care?” he asked, bunching his fists at his side. “What do you want from me Y/N? Why are you being so nice to me?”
“I don’t want anything from you, Jimin. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I want to be your friend,” you explained softly, reaching out to touch his arm, which he yanked away.
“You want to be my friend?” he laughed bitterly. “Why? So I can buy you stuff? You want my money? Here,” he took out his wallet, holding out several bills for you to take.
You were shocked, stepping back a little, but looking up to meet Jimin’s gaze. He looked resigned, angry. You looked at his outstretched hand, holding the money out to you and sighed. You reached for his hand, and he thought you’d take the bills, but you only eased his hand back down to his side.
“I don’t want your money,” you told him, trying to keep your voice from sounding as offended as you felt. “I just like spending time with you.”
“Why? What is your angle here? Just take what you want and go, like everyone else does. Everyone uses each other, I don’t know what you’re trying to get out of me, but just take it and go. Stop acting like you care about me,” he hissed.
You watched him for a moment, chest heaving as he took deep breaths, looking angry and closed off and… scared. He looked scared. He said everyone uses each other, did he really not have anyone in his life who genuinely just wanted him to be happy?
“I do care about you, Jimin. I don’t want anything from you but friendship,” you said softly.
“Right,” he laughed, “like I believe that. No one just wants to be friends. They want something. Sex. Money. Status. Then they leave, everyone leaves eventually so why bother getting attached and pretending to care?”
“That sounds really lonely, Jimin,” you trailed off quietly.
Jimin’s expression was one of shock. He was expecting some sort of reaction out of you, anger, defiance, maybe admitting you were just after his money. He expected you to try to trick him, to yell at him, to tell him he was an asshole and you never wanted to see him again. Jimin was not expecting you to see straight through him, to see how lonely he was, how much he craved connection.
You terrified Jimin. He’d been drawn to you from when he first laid eyes on you, admittedly it was a sexual attraction at first. When you’d refused him, though, he was intrigued. He’d watched you around campus, how you never sought out to be the center of attention, how you didn’t go looking for drama or clout. Then you showed up on that porch swing at the party, looking into his eyes like you really saw him.
Jimin hadn’t felt so at ease so quickly with anyone in his life like he did with you. He felt like he could be himself, like he could let his guard down. He had fun, really enjoyed himself for the first time in what felt like forever with you. He wasn’t putting on a show. He wasn’t giving the people what he thought they wanted to see from him. He was just spending time with a beautiful girl who made him feel like he was enough.
And that was terrifying.
Jimin couldn’t afford to get attached again. He’d had his heart ripped out and stomped on so many times he’d honestly thought he didn’t have one anymore. Until he watched the way your eyes lit up when you giggled at one of his silly dance moves. Until he felt the giddiness rising in his chest when you smiled especially for him. Jimin almost couldn’t remember what it felt like to feel so carefree, and he missed it so much. He longed to be free and let go.
You made him feel like he could, and that scared Jimin shitless. He’d spent so long building up this wall to protect himself, so long wearing this mask of indifference to shield his weary and battered heart from another letdown. Another person pretending to care. Another “friend” using him to get something. Another betrayal. But you… you felt so genuine. You were light and happy and kind and you made him feel like he could breathe again. He barely knew you, and already you’d wormed your way into his heart enough to make him feel like things could be different. It scared Jimin just how badly he craved that, the connection, to feel something again.
“I… I guess,” he finally admitted, his shoulders slumping from the confession.
He looked like he was deflating, the tension falling off his body once he finally let it out that yes, he was so lonely. He watched your reaction, embarrassed that you’d seen this side of him. He didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of anyone, didn’t want to give them the chance to use him again. But you just smiled sympathetically. You didn’t push or pry.
Instead, you pivoted. “Are you hungry? I kind of want some ramen. Come with me to the store?” you offered.
Jimin eyed you warily, but nodded, falling in step beside you as you walked along the bridge, the only sounds you could hear were the soft rippling of the waves below and the sounds of the cars rushing past. Jimin was quiet beside you, looking like he was lost in thought. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was stepping, and tripped over a loose brick on the sidewalk.
You saw the headlights of the oncoming car nearing closer as Jimin tumbled into the road, your heart beating out of your chest in bone-chilling fear. You jumped into the street and grabbed Jimin’s hand. You jumped back and yanked him onto the sidewalk mere fractions of a second before the car zoomed past where your bodies had just been, horn blaring obnoxiously. Jimin’s body crashed into yours, sending you off balance and splaying against the sidewalk.
You groaned at his weight being flung on top of you when you crashed into the hard cement sidewalk. Jimin propped himself up on his arms, body still flush against yours as he searched your face, eyes wide.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What the hell were you thinking?! You could’ve been killed!” he scolded, eyes roaming over your face and arms for any injuries.
“So could you! I couldn’t just sit back and watch you get run over!” you defended.
“So you risked your life for someone you barely know?!” he hissed, with no real bite to his words.
Worry and guilt were swimming in his gaze as it met yours. You softened, reaching up to caress his hair gently in an attempt to soothe him and get him to focus on you and your next words.
“Hey, we’re both fine. Everything’s okay,” you smiled.
“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” he said more to himself than you, “What even are you?”
“Still hungry,” you giggled playfully, trying to ease the tension surrounding the two of you.
Jimin rolled his eyes but finally, a smile graced his pretty lips. You both seemed to notice your positions at the same time, your cheeks lighting up and the tips of his ears turning red. He scrambled off of you, holding out a hand to pull you to your feet. You both avoided eye contact and he let out an awkward cough, scratching the back of his neck.
“Let’s go get ramen then,” he smiled shyly, motioning for you to go ahead of him.
You walked together in silence, Jimin being much more careful about where he was stepping while you made your way to the convenience store at the edge of the university. Entering and nodding to the cashier on duty, you both made your way over to the ramen. You reached out to grab a bowl, and a gasp left Jimin’s lips.
“You’re bleeding!” he grabbed your arm, examining the scrape on your elbow.
“Oh, whoops,” you shrugged.
Jimin went to the cashier and requested the first aid kit, then guided you to a seat and gently took your arm, cleaning the cut with an antiseptic wipe. You hissed at the burn, and he apologized, leaning down to blow air on the wound. You watched in awe at the way his lips looked, plump and soft and delicious. You shivered as the cool air hit your skin, soothing the burn from the antiseptic wipe. Jimin smiled up at you.
“Better?” he asked.
Not trusting your voice, you simply nodded. He took the bandage and placed it over your wound, smoothing it out with a gentle brush of his fingers.
“There. All better. Let's eat!” he chirped, pushing off his knees to stand.
You both picked out some ramen and drinks, using the water dispenser to add hot water to the dry noodles. Jimin reached for his wallet to pay for you both reflexively. You didn’t put yours on the counter and he looked at you in confusion.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Uhhh… waiting my turn?”
“What do you mean? It’s our turn.”
“It’s your turn. I’ll pay for mine when you’re done,” you shrugged.
Jimin looked shocked and confused, and the cashier looked impatient. You nodded towards the counter and Jimin paid, watching you curiously as you completed your transaction with a smile on your face and thanked the cashier. Jimin held the door for you and you both walked to a nearby park, sitting on the bench to eat.
You ate and talked and joked and laughed. You both just enjoyed being in each other’s presence, able to let loose and not feel judged. You watched Jimin’s eyes begin to shine for the first time since you’d met him, and your heart swelled with joy. You’d finished eating long ago but neither of you wanted to leave, so you stood up.
“I’ve been practicing, you know.” You wiggled your eyebrows.
“Practicing?” he echoed.
“Dancing. I’ve been practicing what you showed me. Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve gotten pretty decent,” you grinned playfully.
“Show me what you’ve got,” Jimin smirked, leaning back into the bench with his hands folded behind his head, his shirt riding up and displaying his mouth-watering abs, along with the small trail of hair that dipped down underneath his waistband.
You stood with your feet shoulder width apart, just like Jimin had taught you, and started shaking your hips like you’d seen him do that night at the party, giving your best impression of his dance routine for the first minute or two. Then, you grinned at him as he opened his mouth to praise you, before you started doing the chicken dance.
Jimin’s laughter rang through the air and he started dancing with you, both of you making fools of yourselves, your only audience each other and the moon that shone brightly in the sky, illuminating Jimin’s face, highlighting his ethereal beauty. The two of you danced and laughed for a while, before falling onto the bench in a fit of giggles.
Finally deciding it was time to go, Jimin insisted on walking you home, saying it wasn’t safe for you to be alone that late at night. You agreed, not because you weren’t capable of keeping yourself safe, but simply to stay with him for a little longer. You tossed your food containers in the trash as you left the park. His hand brushed against yours a few times as you walked, talking animatedly about anything and everything, and you figured it was just an accident soyou didn’t think too much of it.
Disappointment washed over you as you walked up to your dorm building and you sighed, scuffing the ground with your foot in an attempt to stall. Jimin made no move to leave either, both of you waiting in silence for the other to say something. Suddenly, you felt warmth surround your frame as Jimin wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a tight embrace.
“Thank you for tonight. This is the most fun I’ve had in a really long time,” he whispered into your ear, almost like a secret he didn’t want anyone else to hear, though you were alone.
“Me too, Jimin. Thank you for coming with me, and walking me home,” you smiled, returning his hug and placing your head on his shoulder.
You weren’t sure how long hugs between stranger-friends were supposed to last, but you weren’t going to pull away first, not when you felt so warm, so safe, so comfortable. Your heart was racing but your whole body went pliant at his touch, any tension you’d been holding melting away as you melted into him.
Jimin pulled away first, leaving a chaste kiss to your cheek before turning around and walking off, shouting “goodnight Y/N!” over his shoulder as he left. You missed the way the tips of his ears turned pink, and he missed how your whole face turned red. You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you crawled into bed that night, your dreams filled with bright brown eyes shining in the moonlight, and a little bit of hope.
-♡-
After the night on the bridge, you and Jimin began hanging out. He’d wait for you outside the lecture hall and walk you home some days. Others, you’d show up with his favorite coffee and snack in hand before his (regrettably chosen) 8am class. Jimin was different around you, lighter.
Because he was Jimin, people noticed. Eyes trailed after the two of you everywhere you went, whether you were together or not. Rumors spread, saying that you were using him to gain recognition, saying that he’d knocked you up and been forced to date you, saying that you’d blackmailed him or something. Neither of you paid attention to the prying eyes that seemed to dissect your every move, you were too caught up in each other.
You made Jimin feel like a better person, and Jimin made you feel safe and giddy. But there was no denying the massive crush you’d formed on the poor guy. You did your best to hide it, trying not to make him uncomfortable. You’d told him all you wanted was friendship, you weren’t about to make a liar out of yourself and get rejected, losing your new friend over something so silly as your unyielding yearning for him.
You really tried not to let your eyes linger on him for too long when he walked unaware beside you, humming the newest song he was practicing for dance class. You tried not to let your touches last longer than socially acceptable for friends, despite the way your entire body seemed to light up with electricity every time his skin met yours. You tried not to stare longingly at his lips as he told you a story about his childhood or a class he’d taken the day before.
You tried not to fall in love with him.
You tried not to fall in love with the way his eyes formed crescent moons when he smiled, his real smile. The one he used in your presence, not the one he plastered on for the rest of the world to see. You tried not to fall in love with the sound of his voice calling your name, or the way he’d mindlessly sing quietly to himself while doing mundane tasks. You tried not to fall in love with the way he’d already be looking at you when you glanced up to check on him, with the way he’d shoot you a goofy face.
You tried not to fall in love with the way he held you close, the way every hug was just a little too long, the way he’d hold open doors for you or fix your collar, or the way he seemed to be able to make you forget about the rest of the world. You tried not to fall in love with how strong he was, both physically and emotionally, how he’d let you in and trusted you.
But Jimin was a force of nature, somehow terrifying and comforting at the same time. He showed your heart no mercy, consistently proving himself to you over and over and making you fall harder and harder. How were you not supposed to fall head over heels for Jimin? A few weeks into your friendship and you were ready to throw caution to the wind and marry the man. Or maybe you were a little dramatic, but still. You felt so deeply for him you almost couldn’t stomach it.
Jimin seemed to bounce as he walked in front of you, using his ridiculous amount of coordination to walk backwards so he could face you as he spoke. You giggled at his behavior, keeping an eye out to make sure he didn’t run into anything or anyone. He wove around the crowd gracefully, looking back every so often, but you still watched out for him. Just in case.
“So then the professor woke the kid up by slamming a book on his desk, I kinda felt bad for him, to be honest. But it was really funny. The kid wasn’t too bothered by it, he laughed with everyone else, and apologized for falling asleep. I don’t blame him though. I nearly lost it when he went into the section on Pavlov,” Jimin recounted, rolling his eyes.
“Poor guy!” you laughed.
“I know, so embarrassing.” he cringed.
“Yo, Jimin!” came from somewhere in the crowd, and Jimin’s easygoing expression immediately morphed into a hardened one.
You turned to see Hoseok and Hana jogging to catch up with the two of you. Ever since they’d started dating, you’d seen Hana less and less. You didn’t mind much, as your time was mostly filled with Jimin. Hana’s hair had gotten longer and she’d dyed it a light shade of pink. It suited her.
“Hey Hana, I like your new hair,” you smiled.
“Thanks, girl! I haven’t seen you in forever!” she grabbed you, pulling you into a tight hug which you returned, shooting an uncomfortable look towards Jimin.
His attention was on Hoseok though. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and you didn’t like it when Jimin’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. It looked unnatural, wrong. Happiness belonged on Jimin. Hoseok was sweet, he was funny and lively and courteous, you had nothing against him. But you wished he would leave so Jimin would go back to normal. Unguarded.
“Jimin, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for a couple days man. I really need your help. Are you busy? The girls can grab coffee or something and we can swing by the shop?” Hoseok begged.
“Ooh that sounds so fun! We haven’t hung out in forever! Please, Y/N?” Hana begged, pulling on your shirt sleeve.
You shot a look over to Jimin, gauging his feelings on the situation, but you couldn’t read him. His face was stoic and you couldn’t see his eyes. He shrugged, following Hoseok across the street. Hana pulled on your arm, directing you to a nearby coffee shop and grabbing a table in the corner by the window.
“You still like the hot chocolate here the best?” Hana asked, standing up to order.
You moved to follow but she waved you off, placing your order for you and handing it over once it was ready.
“Thank you.” you smiled, “How much was it? I’ll venmo you.”
“Don’t worry it was only like two bucks,” Hana shrugged. “Hobi’s been paying for everything lately, hasn’t asked me to chip in a dime! So I’ve saved up a bit.”
“Oh wow,” you laughed.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! Do you remember when we used to come here like every day to do our homework and people watch?” Hana giggled.
“Yeah, it seems so long ago.” you agreed, grinning at the memory.
“Ugh, I still had that poofy curly hairdo and you wore those high school musical shirts all the time? When was that, like 8th grade?” she cringed.
“Freshman year of high school, I think. We met in high school.” you laughed. “Why did your mom let you leave the house like that?”
“Girl I don’t know!” she groaned, “why did yours?”
“I guess she wanted me to express myself,” you shrugged with a giggle.
“Express yourself right out of any chance to be popular,” Hana remarked sarcastically, throwing in a playful smirk.
“Hey, I don’t need to be popular. I just need a few good people around me,” you shrugged.
“Hmmm… So, how’s Jimin?” she asked, glancing away and not meeting your eyes.
“He’s good. We were just on our way back to my dorm to watch a movie when we ran into you guys,” you explained.
“A little netflix and chill?” she laughed, but her eyes zeroed in on you.
“No,” you shook your head, “just a movie.”
Hana sighed, placing her coffee on the table and looked you in the eyes.
“YN, I’m worried about you. Someone like you shouldn’t be hanging out with someone like Jimin. When I invited you to that party, I just wanted you to get out more, not start messing around with someone like him.” Hana explained, attempting to keep her voice soft.
“What do you mean ‘someone like him’?” you asked harshly.
“You’ve heard what people are saying right? They’re spreading rumors about you because you’re hanging out with him. He’s bad news, YN. He only sleeps with girls to get what he wants. I know you’re a hopeless romantic but I can guarantee he doesn’t love you, no matter what he’s telling you.” she sighed.
“You can’t be serious.” you laughed incredulously.
“YN, I’m just looking out for you. Jimin is-” she began but you stood and cut her off.
“Jimin is kind. Jimin is funny, smart, sweet and loyal. Jimin doesn’t talk shit about people behind their backs. Jimin doesn’t pretend to care just so he can cause trouble. Jimin doesn’t judge people based on rumors. You don’t know anything about him, Hana. You never cared enough to. No one has! You all think he’s some souless succubus who only uses sex to get what he wants, but you’re wrong. You don’t know him at all. Jimin is wonderful and I will hang out with him as much as I damn well want to because you know what? He makes me happy. So you and anyone else who has a problem with that can fuck off,” you seethed, slamming five dollars down on the table to pay her for your drink, not wanting to owe her anything, “Keep the change.”
You stomped away from the table, finally looking up from Hana’s speechless, shocked expression to find Jimin and Hoseok staring at you in mirroring astonishment. You froze for a split second, but in your rage, trudged forward, grabbing Jimin’s hand and pulling him towards the exit.
“Let’s go.” you grumbled, and he allowed you to pull him out of the exit and begin walking down the street, leaving Hoseok and Hana in stunned silence.
You didn’t let go of Jimin’s hand and he didn’t make a move to pull away as you walked silently to your dorm, your anger slowly going from a boiling rage to a simmer. You opened and shut the door with a little more force than necessary and flung the dvd cabinet open with a little too much emphasis. Jimin watched you curiously, letting you have your space and set up the movie before you crawled into your bed next to where he was waiting.
You laid your head on his shoulder, needing the extra comfort of having him close after your emotional meltdown at the coffee shop. You sighed, letting the tension roll out of your body that you’d stored up from the encounter. Jimin wrapped an arm around you, giving you a gentle squeeze.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked quietly, eyes still on the opening credits of the movie.
“No,” you pouted.
“Are you sure?” he pressed, gaze shifting to you.
You sighed and sat up, turning to face him and pausing the movie.
“How much did you hear?”
“Hoseok and I walked in right about where you asked Hana what she meant by someone like me,” he explained.
“Oh,” you flushed, looking away from him. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
Jimin sighed, turning your shoulders so you’d face him and you gazed up into his eyes as he focused on you.
“Hey, it’s okay. I know what people think about me. I don’t care about their opinion. I care about yours, and maybe Hoseok’s. Sometimes,” he explained with a chuckle.
“I guess…” you trailed off.
“Thank you,” he spoke suddenly, softly.
“For what?” you wondered.
“For sticking up for me. For believing in me. For having my back,” he told you, his eyes swimming in an emotion you couldn’t place.
“Of course. I meant everything I said. You’re an amazing person and if people would just take a second look and get to know you, look past the wall you put up, they’d think so too.”
Jimin pulled you into his arms, encompassing you in his warmth and comfort, seeming to hold you together when you felt like you were shaking into pieces from the intensity of how strongly you felt for him. You relaxed in his hold, allowing the warmth of his body against yours to soothe your nerves.
“You’re my best friend,” he whispered into your ear, barely audible.
“You’re my best friend too,” you whispered back, hugging him just a little tighter.
Jimin smiled against your neck where he’d rested his head, and you hoped he couldn’t feel how loudly your heart was beating from feeling his lips against your skin, though he probably didn’t mean to do that. You pulled apart and snuggled into the covers to watch the movie, finally completing the task you’d set out to do since mid-afternoon.
Once the credits rolled, you were tucked into Jimin’s arms, drifting in and out of consciousness. Jimin glanced at the clock and sighed.
“I don’t want to leave but it’s getting late,” he looked down at your face.
“Nooo.. don’t go. You’re so comfy,” you whined.
“Are you calling me fat?” he huffed playfully.
“Oh hush,” you giggled, but looked up at him, biting your lip nervously.
“Can you just… stay? Just for tonight? If you want to, that is…” you looked down at your hands.
“You’re not worried someone will see me leave in the morning and start more rumors?” he wondered.
“I don’t care if you don’t,” you shrugged, meeting his eyes once more.
“Scooch over then,” he grinned and you giggled triumphantly, scooting over to one side of the bed so Jimin could slot himself between you and the wall.
He wrapped an arm around your middle, pulling you against his chest and sighed contentedly. You snuggled just a little closer, mumbling something about the chilly air in the dorm, but really you just loved being close to Jimin. Butterflies swirled in your stomach, and you listened to Jimin’s breathing begin to even out as he fell asleep. You followed not long after. Wrapped in the safety and comfort of Jimin, you swore it was the best night's sleep you’d ever had.
-♡-
The second Jimin had exited your dorm that morning, there were about 50 pictures of the incident flooding social media, rumors flying rampant about your night spent together. Every other comment was about how you’d turned into a whore or Jimin was just playing with you or you had to have something on him. You ignored them all. People could think whatever they wanted, but you knew you hadn’t done anything wrong.
On the contrary, waking up beside Jimin had felt so, so right. You’d somehow shifted in the night, both of you seeking out each other’s warmth and you’d woken up face-to-face, your noses almost touching. You’d opened your eyes to find Jimin opening his and you both smiled at each other, giggling nervously as you broke apart.
Jimin had gone home to freshen up, seeing as your impromptu sleepover left him without a change of clothes or a toothbrush. You hadn’t heard anything from him since he left, and you were starting to wonder if he regretted staying, if he felt uncomfortable now. Your nerves were eating you up and after your fight with Hana, you didn’t really know who you could talk to about it. You sighed, flipping through a textbook while being unable to concentrate on anything you were reading.
A few hours went by and you were starting to lose your mind from the lack of communication and the anxiety it caused. You picked up your phone to distract yourself with something when a text from Jimin came through. You sighed in relief, opening the message.
Jimin [5:54pm]: The guys at the frat house say I’ve been boring lately and I’m not allowed to skip tonight’s party. Come with me?
Did he mean come with him as in… be his date? Surely not. Right? Your heart hammered in your chest. Sure, people had seen you and Jimin around together a lot, but it was another thing entirely to go to a party together. That was basically announcing that you were dating. Maybe he didn’t see it that way? Maybe he just wanted to bring his friend to the party?
You [5:59pm]: Sure. Meet you there?
Jimin [6:04pm]: Starts at 10. :)
You texted a little back and forth in the next few hours, then you got ready for the party andmade your way over to the frat house, wondering what kind of fresh hell this party would bring. Though, you couldn’t say all parties were bad. You had met Jimin at one of these. That had turned out to be the greatest thing you’d ever done.
You were filled with a sense of nostalgia walking up to the familiar front door and entering into the foyer, greeted with booming music and some cheering from the corner where someone was doing a keg upside down. You were startled by an arm wrapping around your shoulder, pulling you into a warm body.
“Y/N! Nice to see you again,” Hoseok grinned, leading you towards the kitchen.
“Hey Hoseok,” you smiled, a little confused.
“Jimin and I were about to play beer pong with Tae, we need a 4th player,” he grinned.
“Oh okay,” you smiled, walking with a little more confidence.
“Y/N!” Jimin grinned, walking over and wrapping you in a hug, “I’m glad you came. You’re on my team, ok?”
“Sounds good,” you grinned.
“Y/N, this is Taehyung, you’ve already met Hoseok. Tae, this is Y/N,” Jimin introduced.
“Nice to meet you,” Taehyung grinned a boxy smile, enthusiastically waving to you from his end of the island. “Sorry we’re about to kick your ass,” he added with an evil chuckle.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you giggled.
“Have you played before?” Jimin wondered.
“A few times, not at a big party like this but I’ve practiced,” you mimicked brushing off your shoulders and Jimin let out a hearty laugh.
“Alright, a seasoned pro!” Hoseok chimed in excitedly.
“Is Hana not here?” you asked quietly to Jimin.
“I haven’t seen her, no,” he shrugged.
“Did they break up?”
“I doubt it, but I don’t know.” he answered.
“Alright, ladies! Let's go!” Taehyung shouted enthusiastically.
Hoseok took the first shot, landing it perfectly in a cup on your side of the table, and Jimin took the first swig, downing the cup. Hoseok shot again, missing by a mile. Jimin laughed before tossing his ball across the table, expertly landing it in one of the opposing team’s. Hoseok pouted but drank anyway. Jimin tried again, landing another. You clapped and hooted for him. Jimin got three cups before he missed.
Taehyung got two cups, and you drank both before he grazed the edge of the third, but the ball didn’t go in. You started shooting and got two cups before someone jostled you on your third throw, causing you to miss the entire table. You shot a glare to the offending stranger, who apologized profusely. You sighed.
“Minho is clumsy but he’s sweet. Don’t be too hard on him. He might actually like it. Kinky bastard.” Jimin winked at you playfully.
You choked on your next breath, giggling at his words. Neither team scored anything for a while, too busy trash-talking each other and cracking jokes to concentrate on the game. Jimin’s full smile had yet to appear, but he did seem more relaxed in your presence, so you took it as a win. He wasn’t quite himself, putting on more of a show than usual, but you decided to let it go since he seemed like he was having a good time. Surprisingly, you were too.
Taehyung was sweet and funny. He was easy to talk to and super charming. Hoseok was a ball of sunshine and energy, and they both seemed to accept you as part of their little group with no effort at all. You were Jimin’s friend, and therefore you were their friend by association. You wondered if these were people Jimin could be honest with, they seemed really genuine, but you knew how guarded he was so you weren’t about to bring it up. They were fun to be around, and that was enough for now.
The night raged on, and your team ended up winning beer pong. You’d both gained a pleasant buzz from the game but Taehyung and Hoseok were absolutely trashed. Jimin explained that they might’ve pregamed a little too hard before the party, so the added beers from their crushing defeat sent them over the edge into utterly intoxicated. They were currently clutching onto each other and singing a very off key rendition of a song you didn’t even recognize.
“Hey, where’s the bathroom?” you asked.
“Just down that hall,” Jimin pointed, and you smiled at him before making your way there.
You quickly did your business and washed your hands, checking your appearance in the mirror and smiling to yourself about how well the night was going. Everything was perfect and after last night with Jimin, he seemed more… into you? Less platonic. Or maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. Either way, you were hopeful that maybe Jimin felt the same way you did.
That was, until you walked out of the bathroom and saw him pushed up against the wall with some girl’s tongue down his throat.
You felt like the room was spinning. Your heart shattered and you found it difficult to get air into your lungs as you stood frozen in shock, eyes glued to the pair like a car wreck. You just couldn’t look away. It felt like years, but lasted only a second before Jimin’s eyes opened and he spotted you. He pushed the girl off of him, taking a step toward you, but you made a beeline for the door.
You weaved your way through the crowd as fast as you could, ignoring Taehyung who gleefully called out for you to join him in karaoke. You begged any entity that was listening to let you hold your tears in until there were no witnesses, focusing solely on getting your feet to move faster and holding your emotions at bay. You heard Jimin calling your name but you only moved faster, sprinting out of the open door and down the empty road.
How could you have been so stupid? Of course he didn’t like you. You were just the first person to show him, real, unconditional friendship. That’s all his affection was. Platonic. He didn’t want you. How could he? That girl looked like a supermodel. Of course she was more his type. How could you even think he would ever want someone like you? Because he spent one night with his arms wrapped around you and brought you to a party in front of his friends? Ugh.
“Y/N! Wait!” Jimin called, and you could hear his footsteps growing closer.
Damn him and his dancer’s stamina.
You wiped any stray tears from your eyes and did your best to plaster on a smile as you turned around to face him, you couldn’t outrun him. You might as well act normal and pretend everything was fine. Jimin slowed to a stop in front of you, panting a little.
“Where are you going?” he asked breathlessly.
“Oh, uh. I’m going home,” you grimaced as your voice cracked.
“Y/N, it wasn’t what it looked like,” Jimin began.
“Oh Jimin, it’s fine,” you brushed him off, using every bit of your willpower to make yourself seem believable. “You can do whatever or whoever you want. It’s not like I own you.”
“I saw the look on your face, Y/N, I-” Jimin tried but you shook your head.
“No it’s fine. I should’ve known you’d want to have some fun tonight. You’re not obligated to babysit me just because you invited me,” you cut him off.
“But I-” he tried again, scratching his arm in frustration.
“Go back to the party, that girl is probably waiting,” you smiled, moving to turn around.
“Would you just fucking listen to me?!” he shouted, making you freeze in your tracks.
Your eyes flickered up to meet his in shock, mouth hanging slightly ajar. Despite him being covered in tattoos and piercings, you’d never heard Jimin raise his voice or be threatening in any way. His sudden outburst caused your heart to flutter in your chest, both with astonishment and a little bit of arousal.
“She just came up and started talking to me, and she asked me to fuck, but I said no. She kissed me out of nowhere and I froze. As soon as I saw you I knew I fucked up. I pushed her off and told her to get lost. I don’t want her, Y/N. I don’t want any of them,” he nearly growled in frustration, running a hand through his messy hair. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”
Your heart stopped beating entirely.
“I was scared to tell you because I didn’t want to scare you off. You said all you wanted was friendship and I didn’t want to push you away. You’re my best friend. You’re the only one who really sees me, the only one who really cares. You make me a better man. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Everyone leaves but I can’t lose you. Not you. I… I love you. I’m in love with you,” he sighed, taking a step closer and gauging your reaction.
“You… do?” you whispered, scared that if you spoke too loudly he’d vanish and you’d wake up from this dream.
“I love you,” he repeated, placing his hands on your shoulders and running them down your arms to interlock your fingers.
“I love you too,” you choked out, your tears running freely now. “Jimin I love you so much it hurts.”
Jimin lifted one hand to cup your cheek, his eyes full of love and adoration and contentment. His gaze flickered down to your lips then back up to your eyes. You nodded, just barely, and he leaned in. Finally, after months of daydreaming about this very moment, Jimin’s soft, plush lips pressed against your own. Time seemed to stop, and everything faded away but Jimin and the way he kissed you.
His kiss was gentle, but held so much passion. All the words he couldn’t say, or didn’t know how to, he flooded them all into the way he kissed you, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you closer as he worked his mouth against your own. Kissing Jimin felt like coming home, like the first breath of air after being caught in a current and forced underwater until your breaking point. It felt right.
Jimin’s tongue danced along your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth, allowing him entrance. His tongue explored your mouth, sliding along yours and it felt more like a loving caress than horny college kids making out. Deepening the kiss had lit something inside you and you pressed even closer to him, pouring all your love and longing into the actions between your lips.
Pulling away only when your lungs began screaming for air, Jimin rested his forehead against your own, his breaths coming out labored. His eyes searched yours and a slow smile spread across his reddened lips.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admitted breathlessly.
“Me too,” you giggled, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as the blush crept into your cheeks.
Jimin laughed and held you tight against him, rubbing soothing circles against your back. You both stayed like that, in the middle of the road, the only light being the stars and the moon, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was that Jimin loved you. Jimin loved you! And he wanted you. And you were safe in his arms.
“Let’s get you home, yeah?” Jimin smiled, pulling back to look at your face.
You nodded, slipping your hand into his and walking beside him. Your whole chest felt like it was going to explode. You were elated. You were shocked and excited and so, so happy. You giggled to yourself, hiding your face with your free hand as Jimin walked you home.
“What’s so funny?” he chuckled.
“I can’t believe this is real, I’m so happy,” you admitted, biting your lip nervously and shooting a curious glance his way to watch his reaction.
Jimin smiled softly, pulling you closer to leave a gentle kiss on your forehead.
“Me too baby. Me too,” he said softly.
Jimin walked you home and you both crawled into your bed. Jimin wrapped you up in his arms and held you close. You felt like you were in heaven. You ran your fingers through Jimin’s hair, then trailed them down his arm, tracing his tattoos with the tips of your fingers. Jimin smiled, rubbing shapes and doodles into the skin of your back where your shirt had ridden up.
His gentle caresses were soothing, and after the ultra emotional day you’d had, you were pretty drained. You drifted in and out of consciousness, shifting closer to Jimin and he grinned, holding you against his frame and leaving gentle pecks on your neck, your ear, wherever he could reach. You giggled.
“I’m so glad you’re finally mine,” he whispered into the chilly air of your room.
“I’ve been yours, Jimin. From the moment I met you,” you admitted sheepishly.
“I might not have known it yet, but I was yours too,” he smiled, kissing your cheek. “Now go to sleep.”
So you did.
-♡-
About a week later, the rumors were still running rampant about you and Jimin after you’d both made it official on social media, and were now spotted sharing sweet kisses and tender touches in public rather than just being together. You’d received a fair amount of messages and evil looks, girls upset that you’d taken Jimin off the market and now his skills were “going to waste.” You’d just roll your eyes and hit the block button.
You had been wondering about those skills more and more recently. Once you and Jimin had started dating, he had seemingly become allergic to wearing shirts. Prancing around your dorm room with his toned body on display, delicious ink decorating the surface of his ivory skin… you were frequently having thoughts that weren’t exactly PG. But Jimin hadn’t brought up sexual activity, and neither had you.
You felt like you could cut the sexual tension with a knife some days, but didn’t want to push Jimin into anything, not when you knew that he’d used sex as a way to push people away in the past. You knew you were overthinking, and should probably just talk to him, but you were nervous. But oh goodness did you want him. You’d wanted him from the moment you’d laid eyes on him, and rejecting his proposition that first night had been harder than you’d thought.
Now it seemed like every time you looked at Jimin, it became harder to hold back. Knowing that he knew you loved him now, and that he loved you too gave you that level of comfort you needed to be able to finally take the plunge with him. You wanted him to plunge into you. All. Night. Long.
You shook your head to rid yourself of the dirty thoughts you were having just as Jimin climbed in bed beside you, snuggling up to your frame and pulling you against him. You smiled and ran your fingers over the tattoos on his arms, tracing the designs with the tips of your fingers as lightly as you could. Jimin liked that you were always touching him. Running your fingers through his hair, tracing his tattoos, or just resting your palm against his chest. It didn’t matter as long as you were touching him, he was content.
He shifted, laying on his back with one arm tucked behind his head, allowing you to rest your head on his chest and trace the tattoos that littered the skin there as well. Jimin closed his eyes and focused on the sound of your even breathing and the feeling of your fingers gently brushing against his skin. He shivered a time or two, and you snuggled closer, assuming he was cold. Unable to rid yourself of the lingering dampness between your thighs, you let your fingers gently graze across Jimin’s pierced nipple.
Jimin sucked in a breath and bit back a low moan, but you heard his chest rumble with the action. You bit your lip and mumbled a quiet, insincere apology. You traced the tattoos along his collar bone for a while before your fingers daringly dipped down, brushing the other exposed nipple, which had Jimin tensing below you and letting out a quiet whine.
“Are you doing that on purpose?” he accused, focusing his gaze on you.
“Noooo…” you trailed off, looking up at him with faux innocence.
“I’m trying really hard to be good right now, baby girl,” he breathed out, almost as if he was in pain.
“What if… I don’t want you to be?” you whispered seductively, letting your hand trail down his abdomen teasingly.
Jimin’s muscles clenched at the movement, and you noticed there was a sizable tent in his sweatpants. Your mouth watered at the sight. He was clearly working with some nice equipment. Jimin shifted so he could put his full attention on you, his eyes searching yours.
“Are you sure? I know you said you were waiting, are you really ready for this?” he asked, concern and a little bit of hope written all over his face.
“I’m sure. I love you, Jimin. I want you,” you smiled reassuringly, leaning in to place a kiss to his gorgeous, soft lips.
Jimin brought his hand up to cup your cheek, working those plush lips of his against your own. The two of you had made out before, but this felt different. You were filled with anticipation and need. You pressed yourself closer to him, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding gracefully along your bottom lip, which you immediately parted for him.
His deft muscle slipped inside your mouth, rolling against yours skillfully. His hand dropped from your cheek and snaked up your side, sneaking under your shirt and grazing along your stomach until he reached your breast, kneading it underneath your flimsy bralette. His thumb brushed against your nipple and your body jolted towards him, seeking more.
“Mmm… so responsive.” he whispered against your lips with a teasing smirk.
You furrowed your eyebrows, then let your nail scrape gently along his pierced nipple, tugging ever so gently on the metal ring. Jimin moaned into your mouth, his body arching towards yours. You smirked against his lips.
“So responsive.” you giggled.
Jimin chuckled, pulling back to look at you with a raised eyebrow, the light reflecting off the piercing there as well. His cocky look was gasoline on the fire of your arousal, and you made yourself busy by kissing down his exposed neck, leaving a trail of red and purple bruises in your wake. Jimin’s low moans were music to your ears. You wanted to elicit more of the beautiful sounds from the irresistible man who had become putty in your hands.
Urging him onto his back, you straddled his hips and ground your covered core down against his clothed erection for a little relief, causing Jimin to let out more delicious noises. You kissed down his chest, bringing his nipple piercing into your mouth and licking around the sensitive area before tugging it gently with your teeth, scraping the flesh just a bit in the process. Jimin’s hips bucked up into yours at the action.
Your fingers teasingly dipped below the elastic of his sweats, running back and forth along the edge while you worked your mouth against each nipple. Jimin’s hands found purchase on your hips, his nails digging in just a bit so he had something to ground himself while you teased him. Your hand slipped underneath his sweats, surprised to find he’d foregone boxers. Your fingers brushed against his rigid length, and he tensed, gripping your hips harder.
“Don’t tease,” he groaned, head lolling back as he tried to restrain himself.
You giggled, wrapping your hand around his length and slowly dragging it upwards, letting your thumb circle the tip. You used the precum that spilled out to lubricate your next journey down. Jimin groaned, finally losing patience and effortlessly flipped the two of you over until he was hovering above you. He smirked at the surprised expression on your face and began leaving pretty red marks all over your neck and the exposed portion of your chest.
He sat up momentarily, pinning you with a hungry gaze and fiddling with the hem of your shirt.
“Off,” he commanded.
You immediately complied, peeling the fabric off your body and tossing it away, revealing your lacy bralette. Jimin’s eyes roamed over your chest and he licked his lips before leaning down and letting his tongue draw a stripe over the thin fabric covering your nipple, already erect and sensitive. Soft whimpers escaped your lips. It felt good, but you needed more.
Jimin’s lips traveled farther down your body, leaving marks all over your skin. He licked and sucked and nibbled in places you never would’ve considered erogenous zones before, but honestly, maybe it was just because it was Jimin. His tongue danced along the hem of your shorts teasingly before he glanced up at you to make sure you were still okay. You nodded breathlessly.
Jimin peeled your shorts down to expose your black satin panties, and you wished you’d worn the lace ones but it could’ve been worse. He brought the little bow tie between his teeth, tugging and letting it snap back against your pelvis. You jumped a bit and Jimin chuckled, mumbling “so cute” under his breath before slipping your soaked panties down your legs and tossing them aside.
“Damn baby girl, you’re dripping,” he grinned triumphantly. “What got you all worked up like this?”
“Jimin,” you whined impatiently.
“That’s right baby, say my name,” he teased (although he wasn’t really joking), but didn’t waste much more time, lowering his face and licking a bold stripe along your folds to distract you while he snuck a finger closer to your entrance, letting your arousal aid him in entering you. His tongue drew some sort of lost language on your clit with expertise, and it was almost impossible for you to hold still with the amount of pleasure coursing through your veins.
Your hips bucked up and Jimin moved a hand to splay along your lower stomach, holding you down onto the bed while he devoured your pussy, slowly adding a second and third finger to stretch you out. It burned for a moment before you got used to it, Jimin’s fingers gliding along your walls and hitting your g-spot repeatedly. Even for your first time together, he knew your body like the back of his hand.
You could already feel the coil deep inside you threaten to snap at Jimin’s ministrations. You were a moaning mess, babbling his name like it was the only word you knew. His plump lips wrapped around your throbbing bundle and he sucked- hard. You groaned, back arching off the bed as your orgasm crashed over you, your vision going spotty. Now you knew why they said he could make you see stars.
Your body fell lax against the mattress as you panted, before pushing yourself up on your elbows to see Jimin’s face lift from your core. He met your eyes and seductively licked your juices off his lips, closing his eyes and savoring the taste of you. Your mouth went dry at how erotic he looked, and he climbed up your body, pressing his lips to yours and allowing you to taste yourself.
Your mouths worked against each other, and you wound your fingers in his hair, tugging gently on his soft locks, causing him to let out a low whine.
“Do that again,” he begged against your lips, his voice deeper and a little hoarse, but needy.
You wound your fingers in his hair, gripping it tighter and tugging again. Jimin let out a strangled moan, grinding his rock hard member against your core. Your body shivered at the feeling of his clothed shaft pressing up against where you needed him the most.
“Jimin, please,” you sighed, bucking your hips up to meet his.
“Okay baby. Oh fuck. Please tell me I still have a spare condom,” he suddenly groaned, reaching over for his wallet on your nightstand.
You watched him curiously, your eyes lingering on the curve of his plump ass under his sweats. You licked your lips, wanting to bite into the flesh. You’d save that for another time. Jimin let out a triumphant noise and held the condom in the air like a first place medal. You giggled at your boyfriend and rolled your eyes with a smile.
Jimin slid his sweats off in one smooth motion, kicking them away and onto the floor somewhere before ripping the condom open with his teeth and rolling it onto his length. Jimin paused, peering at you from his place above you, a small smile curling onto his plush lips, his eyes alight with adoration.
“I love you,” he whispered, intertwining his fingers with yours.
“I love you too,” you sighed happily.
“Are you ready?” he asked, squeezing your hand gently.
“Yes. I’m ready.”
Jimin leaned down, meeting your lips in a soft kiss, and slowly slid his rigid length into your honeyed entrance. You gasped into his mouth at the welcome intrusion, his cock stretching you in the most delicious way. Even with the prep from his fingers, his cock stretching your walls burned just slightly. Jimin deepened the kiss in an attempt to distract you from the discomfort, slowly inching more of his length inside until he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours.
Jimin fit inside you perfectly, his thick cock filling you up like he was made for you. He pulled back to look at your face, and you shot him a reassuring smile. He brought your joined hands up to his lips, placing them gently on the back of your wrist, and once you nodded your approval, he slid out until just the bulbous tip was left inside, before sliding back in, setting a slow, torturing pace.
This wasn’t your first rodeo, though you were nowhere near as experienced as Jimin, but no one had ever felt this good inside you. No one had ever felt this right. Jimin reached places inside you that no man had before and you were already falling apart at the movement of his hips. Jimin was definitely a dancer, able to move his body precisely and with precision, angling his hips to hit that soft spot inside you with every thrust.
“Fuck babygirl, you look so beautiful like this,” he groaned into your ear, his hot breath coming out in short puffs from the physical exertion.
“Ngh. Jimin,” you whined, “Please. More.”
“Can you handle it?” he wondered, experimentally dragging his cock a little faster along your walls, continually hitting that sweet spot inside you.
“Yes, yes please. Need you,” you whimpered, bucking your hips up to meet his.
Jimin’s brow furrowed in concentration and his hips picked up speed, his sole purpose in that moment to give you the most blinding pleasure you’d ever experienced. His punishing pace had you wailing out his name in ecstasy, clawing at his back in a desperate attempt to ground yourself to something, lest you float away into oblivion from the fire building deep in your core.
“Come on baby, you look so pretty when you cum for me. Let go,” Jimin urged, his free hand slipping between your bodies to rub at your clit.
“Fuck… Jimin!” you cried out, and his teeth sinking into the flesh of your neck was the last thing you needed to send you careening over the edge into bliss for the second time that night.
Your breath coming in heavy pants, you were surprised when Jimin showed no signs of slowing down. Your walls continued to clench around his length in the aftermath of your orgasm, and Jimin let our low growls at the feeling of your pussy swallowing up his cock with each thrust. You whimpered, slightly sensitive from your two previous orgasms, but Jimin pistoning himself inside you still felt heavenly.
Jimin shifted, pulling your leg up over his shoulder, the new position allowing him to reach even deeper inside your core, and your eyes nearly rolled back in your skull at the sensation of his cock kissing your cervix. You were a whimpering mess, your moans now garbled gibberish, not making any sense. All you knew in that moment was Jimin and how good he made you feel.
His lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive flesh, and you shivered. His thrusts were getting erratic as he chased his own high, but Jimin was desperate to make you cum again first. He pinched and rolled your clit between his thumb and forefinger, abusing the bundle in the best way, sending you closer to your high once again.
“Fuck, Jimin- I-” you groaned.
“Come on baby, give me one more,” Jimin encouraged, using all his strength to hold back his own impending orgasm as he slammed inside of you.
Your whole body seemed to seize as you came for the third time, this one more intense than the others, making you almost dizzy with euphoria. Your throat burned with the force of your screams, quickly turning raw with use. Jimin didn’t last much longer, your cunt clenching around his length sending him over the edge. His hips stilled as he spilled ropes of hot cum into the condom. You could feel the heat from the thin plastic layer and wished that you could feel his seed shooting into you, dripping from your hole.
Jimin collapsed next to you, panting. His body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and he looked absolutely edible like this. His plump lips parted as heavy breaths escaped, he turned his head and his eyes met yours. You were both shaking from the intensity of your highs, and you let out a quiet giggle which made a smile bloom across Jimin’s lips. He let out a quiet chuckle.
“You’re so beautiful,” he cooed, turning his body back to face yours after tossing the used condom into the trash.
His arms wrapped around your torso, bringing your naked chests flush against each other as he peppered chaste kisses along your forehead, nose, and cheeks before catching your lips in a sweet kiss.
“I love you,” you whispered, clinging to his sweaty body like he was the only thing keeping you from floating away, and maybe he was.
“I love you more,” he grinned against the skin of your neck.
“Absolutely not. I love you more,” you pouted.
“Nuh uh,” he teased, fingers poking into your side, causing you to shriek and curl into him.
He laughed and kissed your forehead, relenting from his teasing and tickling. Your bodies spent, you drifted off to sleep together, safe in the comfort of each other’s arms.
-♡-
Months had flown by in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, it was May and you were graduating. They say time flies when you’re having fun, and they are right. Every moment spent with Jimin never seemed to last long enough. After the two of you started dating, Jimin had slowly begun opening up to other people. He learned to trust Hoseok and Taehyung, and your initial impression of them had been correct: they were people Jimin could count on.
Jimin did lose a few friends from the frat house when he stopped trying to play the part of the indifferent fuckboi, but he didn’t really count those people as losses. If they couldn’t accept the real him, they weren’t worth it. The two of you had branched out socially, and made new friends as well. Yoongi, the music major, who began working at the coffee shop you both frequented. He was stoic and unapproachable at first, but Jimin had commented on his band t shirt once and Yoongi’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, showing that he was actually super sweet and thoughtful once you got past his icy exterior.
Namjoon, the business major whom you’d met while browsing the shelves of your university library. You’d been having a hard time reaching the book you wanted, and Namjoon had assisted without you even asking for help, his much taller frame bringing the book down to your level. He’d told you he had read that book at least ten times and you would surely love it. The two of you hit it off and soon Jimin joined you, immediately connecting with Namjoon as well. He was smart, patient, and would make an amazing businessman, just from the way he could read people but never treated anyone any differently.
Seokjin, the culinary arts major who had gone around campus giving out free samples of his work, promoting his new youtube channel “Eat Jin.” One taste of his dasik and you were begging him for the recipe. Jin had lit up and began explaining exactly how to make it and invited you to an episode of Eat Jin.
Jungkook, who hadn’t quite figured out what he wanted to do yet, had met Jimin at the gym. He was boxing in the practice room that Jimin had reserved to dance. He hadn’t noticed he’d gone over his time, and when Jimin politely entered the room, complimenting his form, he’d flushed and shot him the most adorable bunny smile. Jungkook apologized for running over his time and Jimin brushed it off, but Jungkook insisted on buying him coffee as an apology.
Slowly but surely, your friendship group grew, each new friend weaving their way into your hearts and teaching you something new. They got along with each other as well, as it turned out. You’d thrown a surprise party for Jimin’s birthday and invited them along, Namjoon and Jin became inseparable almost immediately, and Hoseok and Yoongi as well. Taehyung and Jungkook became a dynamic duo, consistently stirring up trouble wherever they went.
Hoseok and Hana hadn’t broken up, after all. Hana had even contacted you to get coffee, apologizing for judging Jimin unfairly and trying to get in between the two of you. She’d joined your little group of friends, which slowly became more like a second family . Jimin flourished, surrounded by people who loved and cared for him exactly as he was.
He didn’t have to pretend to be anything but himself, didn’t have to please anyone, play any parts. His smile reached ear to ear and his eyes shone with love and light and so much life. Thinking back to the way they’d been dull and lifeless when you first met him brought you to tears as you watched him throw his head back in laughter and wrap his arms around Jungkook, who returned the gesture with similar glee.
Jimin no longer seemed broken. The dead weight resting in his chest had been lifted, and he was free. It didn’t happen overnight, and beginning his relationship with you certainly hadn’t been a magic fix, but it had been a catalyst. You taught Jimin that there were people in this world who genuinely could care for him without expecting anything in return. You showed him that there was still good, and he could trust people. Then, slowly, he’d met more and more people who only validated the lessons you’d taught him.
The more people Jimin met who didn’t use him, the more the ice around his heart began to chip away, giving him the strength and the courage to save himself from the darkness that had plagued his heart and mind for so long. And now, you were all graduating, moving on to pursue your dreams and aspirations. It was the last party of your college career, and you’d all gathered because Jimin had announced he’d had something to say to everyone. You gazed up proudly at your boyfriend.
“Thank you all for being here to celebrate the last night of college!” he cheered, earning hoots and hollers from your friends.
“I know we all promised to keep in touch, but I just wanted to make sure that you all know how much I appreciate you being in my life. I love every single one of you, and I couldn’t have asked for a more amazing group of people to surround myself with. You all have lifted me up, encouraged me, and given me the strength to keep fighting when times got tough. They say that sometimes when you’re in a dark place, that you think you’ve been buried. But really, you’ve been planted. You just need a little bit of love and patience before you bloom. So thank you for giving me what I needed to bloom. All of you. Especially you, Y/N. You were the first person who really believed in me, and if it weren’t for you, I never would’ve let in any of these guys. I love you, baby. And I love all of you,” he grinned, “So here’s a toast to all of you, may your future be bright and your beer be full!”
Cheers erupted around you and you cheered along, all of you knocking back a sip of your drink to Jimin’s toast. He hopped down and wrapped an arm around you, kissing your cheek as your friends congratulated him on his speech and shared how happy they were to have met you both as well. Your heart felt like it couldn’t possibly get any fuller than it was in that moment, surrounded by people you loved.
You and Jimin had both grown so much since that first night at the party, you’d fought, you’d cried, you’d laughed, and you’d gotten stronger. You were so proud of him and how far he had come, and you felt peace settle over you knowing the fact that he’d never have to be alone again, and neither would you. No matter what you found on the road ahead, you’d be okay.
You had each other.
#bts smut#jimin smut#park jimin x reader#jimin x reader#park jimin smut#park jimin#park jimin bts#jimin#jimin bts#tattooed bts#au#college#college au#friends to lovers#strangers to lovers#strangers to friends to lovers#slowburn#fuckboi!jimin#jimin imagine#jimin x you#you x jimin#reader x jimin#jimin one shot#park jimin one shot
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
RFA (+ V AND SAERAN) WARDROBE HEADCANONS
zen would definitely be a simple outfit kinda guy. he doesn’t wear a lot of flashy clothes because if we’re gonna be real?? he doesn’t need to. probably can’t really afford a lot of super elegant outfits in the beginning of the game, but even as his career progresses, he tends to dress the same. he likes simple colors, a lot of darks and a lot of lights (big fan of gray. huge) and he loves that leather jacket. he owns a lot of cool tones and tends to stick with them. if he’s really feeling up to it, he’ll incorporate bits and pieces of costumes he wore into his outfits once the production ends. always carries his phone, loves to wear a watch. probably not too too big on jewelry in his day-to-day life, but he’s more than happy to put it on when he’s going out.
yoosung loves light colors. his outfits are also usually pretty simple (he doesn’t have the time, nor the money to really do anything else) but he somehow manages to throw together outfits that kinda work?? he ends up mixing a lot of colors and patterns in really unconventional ways since he really just grabs whatever’s clean, but they suit him in his own little way. most of his clothes tend to remain in his closet way past their lifetime and it can be assumed that his socks have holes in them at least 90% of the time. he would have lolol merch if he had the money. it would look awful.
jaehee loves big sweaters. probably a cable-knit enthusiast. there’s a huge separation between what she wears at work and what she wears at home. tries to be as well-put-together as possible when she’s working since she knows damn well she’s gonna end up on the news, but at home she tends to stick to really simple styles. big on small and dainty jewelry (always gold if she had a say) and definitely has a few necklaces that she treasures. her work clothes always go to the dry cleaners on time and everything in her closet is hung up neatly at all times. folds beautifully.
jumin is probably the most obvious one here. never picks out his own clothes—he pays his stylist for a reason. loves those three piece suits. you will never see him in casual wear (the closest he gets is when he rolls up his sleeves) and the employees at C&R are convinced that he sleeps in a suit. he doesn’t wear a ton of jewelry, but he probably wears a watch that he got from his dad. would wear anything you buy him without shame though. he does not care. knows he looks good and he’s great at emphasizing that. never wears anything that isn’t designer. he has to look professional after all. his clothes are always spotless, save for a cat hair or two.
saeyoung does not care what he looks like. he can put together some really nice outfits if he tries, but considering he spends most of the day at his computer, he’s definitely more driven by comfort than anything else. has a ton of big sweatshirts and jeans (they’re never in his closet though. probably picks them out of the hamper or clean off the floor) and owns a surprising amount of sneakers. he hates wearing shoes at home though, probably insists on ‘letting his toes breathe.’ none of his socks match, but none of them are ripped either. owns a ton of jewelry but really doesn’t wear it unless he’s dressing up.
jihyun is the biggest turtleneck enthusiast you will ever meet. loves simple colors and earth tones. wears a lot of black to exhibitions to keep the focus on the art. very basic in his colors and outfit choices, but always elegant. probably owns a silk up button-up or two. he loves to layer and never knows what to wear in the summer. also not a huge jewelry fan, but he likes to wear little things that are hand made!! he definitely makes some rings and bracelets in his free time and if you match them with him he will never take them off. designed his entire closet based on keeping attention away from himself. disgustingly color coordinated. artist king <33
saeran makes sure his clothes are entirely comfort based. he didn’t get to choose any of his own outfits for a long time and a lot of them were really scratchy and tight. he likes sleeves that stretch over his hands and soft materials that feel nice. he loves neutral tones and colors that really go with anything. he doesn’t wear any jewelry (he just doesn’t really like it) and he tends to wear cold-weather outfits all year round since he can never seem to warm up. definitely a fan of button ups. they’re airy and he just thinks they’re neat :)
formatting is a mix of my need to be a whore for aesthetics and an unintentional inspiration from @rfadaydreaming (hi i adore u i hope that’s alright!!)
#mysme headcanons#mystic messenger headcanons#hyun ryu#yoosung kim#jaehee kang#jumin han#saeyoung choi#jihyun kim#v mystic messenger#saeran choi#mystic messenger#i got like halfway through these and then realized the formatting and gkdhgkdghd
359 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hello! This is a project for @summer-in-the-archives-event that I worked on with @horizonindigo! We came up with the idea together and based our individual works around the poem I wrote, included in the fic. You can find their absolutely amazing art here!!
I freaking loved working on this one and I got more and more excited as we progressed. I also surprised myself with the poem itself a bit, definitely didn’t expect it to end up quite as cool, if I may say so myself. It was incredibly fun to write.
Big shoutout to @sunflowers-and-frogs for beta reading, I love you bestie <3
I would like to thank all the mods that made this event possible! It’s my first time taking part in anything like this and it was really, really fun, so THANK YOU <3 Love you guys :3
Anyways, enough of my rambling kdfjgkjsdfg
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Relationship: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical The Lonely Content (The Magnus Archives), Kissing, Excessive Tea-Making, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Poetry, Love Confessions
Warnings: self-esteem issues, typical Lonely content, discussions of free-will and determinism, graphic kiss
Summary: As Martin fights the remnants of the Lonely's influence on their ride to Daisy's safehouse in Scotland, he focuses on his feelings for Jon to keep him tethered to reality. He watches Jon be himself in the safety of the cottage, share these small intimacies of domesticity and the words come to him as a poem weaves itself into the pages of his notebook...
He feels the taste of salt in his mouth, as he looks out of the car window at the rapidly falling away landscape, covered in the darkness of the night. He feels Jon’s presence next to him, focused on driving but glancing every so often at him with concern. Martin feels like he should say something, somehow fill the silence that has befallen them, but no words ever find their way to his mouth. He stays quiet, watching the trees pass them by, trying to ignore the anxious churning in his stomach. He’s always been pretty good at filling awkward silences with chatter; at least before the Lonely. Now… he can’t help but feel bothered by Jon’s presence, even though he did all of this for him, even though this is what he’s wanted all this time; it’s like a splinter, prickling at his mind, almost causing him physical discomfort. He swallows and feels the salty taste on his tongue; he discards the thoughts and tries his best to breathe through the discomfort, instead focusing on the sensation of Jon’s warm hand on his.
Martin used to be the warm one; he’d always been generating heat and his mind goes back to the early days in the Archives when the basement was cold in the winter and both Tim and Sasha used to gravitate towards him with their respective cups of tea during breaks. Now his whole body is cold, the chill of the ocean breeze and fog having settled in his bones so deep he thinks he’ll never feel warm again. The thought isn’t sparking any emotions in him though. It’s just a thing that he’s learned to accept, just as the fact that he’ll always be alo—
“Do you want me to put on some music?” Jon asks with another one of his glances. Every time, he raises his eyebrows a bit, and tilts his head to the side; Martin expects the concern in his eyes, but he sees something else there as well. He’s been afraid to put a label to the expression for the fear he’s reading him wrong, but the bolder part of his mind tells him it’s fondness.
Jon’s hand is warm, and his thumb grazes the skin of his palm just a little, as if not sure he’s allowed to. Martin looks down at their hands and feels warmth spark in his stomach; he smiles.
“I’m sorry I’m—I’m not really good at the whole, uh… small talk thing,” Jon adds with a flush, turning his head back to the road. “I should probably be talking about something, though, to, uh… to keep you here. I suppose.” He visibly cringes at his words.
“It’s—It’s fine, Jon,” Martin chuckles, and Jon relaxes, fixing him with a quick smile of his own. “I’m just… you know.” He looks down at their hands again and has a brief feeling they belong to someone else. Not him. Never him. “I’m not quite… out of that. Yet.”
Another look of concern. Martin feels heat prickling at his cheeks and he’s a little bit glad, because at least it’s a feeling. He interlaces their fingers and looks out the front window.
They spend the ride in relative silence. Jon tries a couple more times to start small talk and fails; they stop at a gas station at one point and Martin takes out his notebook when Jon disappears inside the station to pay for gas. He flicks through it and his eyes stop at an unfinished draft; he started writing it shortly before Peter took him down to the Panopticon, but he’d only managed to get a few first lines down. Despite still feeling the cold in his bones and his mind being clouded by the remains of the fog, words come to him, and he starts scribbling. He continues to do so even when Jon comes back with tea and an assortment of snacks, blushing just a little bit when Jon shoots a curious look at the notebook. He doesn’t ask and Martin is thankful for it. He’s not the sort to show his drafts to anyone, especially to the subject he’s writing about.
It’s 1am when they arrive at the cottage; they’re both exhausted and they quickly take their bags inside and lock the door. The cottage is small and practical, just Daisy’s style; it’s also quite dusty from months of abandonment. Martin yawns as he opens one of the bags to get the essentials. They should leave unpacking and cleaning for the next day.
He hears Jon’s footsteps on the wooden floor coming back from the initial run of the house and he turns to tell him that, but the somewhat sheepish look on his face stops him in his tracks. Has he ever seen Jon look sheepish before?
“So, uh, obviously this was Daisy’s safehouse when she was, well… Avoiding people,” he says, not meeting Martin’s eyes.
“I hope ‘avoiding people’ doesn’t mean killing them in this context,” Martin snorts, not sure if he’s entirely joking. The humour is lost on Jon, however, as he looks at him confused for a moment before he processes Martin’s words.
“Oh, no, no, I-I don’t believe she, uh… She just slept here.” Jon shifts awkwardly. “And that means there’s uh, there’s only one bed.”
Martin’s eyes widen and his lips form a little “Oh”.
“Of course, if you’re not comfortable with sharing, I can just take the couch, you need some proper rest and I’m used to running on low sleep” —Jon averts his gaze as he speaks. He grabs his bag and walks over to the couch, and Martin wants to stop him talking and just say that they should share the bed, but his voice seems to have left him at this crucial moment. He just stares as Jon places the bag on the couch and looks back at him, aware of the silence. “Martin?”
Martin swallows, a familiar cold freezing his toes. He feels the damp sand underneath his bare feet and a chill runs down his spine. He blinks and tightens his grip on the bag he’s been holding. This is real, he is real, Jon is real.
“You need good rest too,” he finally manages to say, and he’s surprised by how clear and normal his voice sounds; it makes Jon relax a bit. “We should share the bed, if-if you are comfortable with that.”
A small smile appears on Jon’s lips and a warm feeling fills Martin’s stomach again; he knows the smile is for him.
“Okay,” he says softly and picks the bag up.
They manage to keep the awkwardness of it to the minimum; they’re both very tired and at one point it just doesn’t matter anymore. Jon hands Martin a separate blanket and he pushes the disappointment down into a void inside him where he keeps feelings to come back to when he’s alone. It would be foolish of him to hope for cuddling since they haven’t talked about anything yet.
He expects to fall asleep as soon as his head touches the pillow, but he finds himself awake in the darkness after goodnights are said (Jon’s voice sounds so soft and tender Martin has forgotten all about his earlier disappointment). He’s laying on his back, eyes closed, and he feels Jon’s presence on his right. His breathing is steady, not yet slow enough to indicate sleep, but calm and relaxed. Martin peeks out through half-lidded eyes – he hasn’t gotten used to the darkness as much yet, but he can see Jon laying on his side, facing him, his eyes closed and his hair loosely framing his face. One of his hands rests close to his head on the pillow. Martin blinks, fully opening his eyes now and smiling softly. As his vision clears, Martin notices Jon frowning ever so slightly, and he wonders if the faint lines between his eyebrows smoothen when he’s asleep.
“Is watching people sleep a usual activity for you?” Jon whispers with amusement as he opens his eyes and Martin gasps with surprise and looks away, feeling heat prickle at his cheeks.
“Wha—uh, no! No, of course no—Sorry, I—” He rambles, and he thinks he might just die from embarrassment when he hears Jon laugh quietly.
“It’s fine, Martin.” He shakes his head with a sigh. “Really. I-- Sorry, I thought a joke would, um… lighten the mood somewhat.”
Martin risks a look at him and wonders if the red on his cheeks is visible through the darkness. Jon looks at him with that expression again, something Martin would very much want to classify as fondness if it didn’t feel so impossible. But now that he thinks about it… Would it really be thatfar-fetched? Jon had gone into the Lonely just to get him out. Would he have done that for anyone else? Martin rolls his eyes at himself in his mind, of course he would. He did go into the Buried, and it was for Daisy, a person who has threatened him multiple times, kidnapped and almost killed him. If Jon was ready to lay down his life for her, out of all of them, it shouldn’t be surprising he would do the same for his assistant; it says nothing about his feelings on the matter.
Martin’s memories of the Lonely are hazy. He remembers the cold, the dampness, and the loneliness. He remembers his thoughts, the lonely ones, and how they felt both alien and familiar at the same time. He remembers the comfort, the feeling of fitting in, but also the pain and the fear, just before they were numbed by the cold and the fog that made him forget. And then suddenly, Jon was in front of him, looking at him with desperation on his face, tears in his eyes glowing with a green light. Was it Jon calling for him, or just the Beholding?
“What are you thinking about?” comes Jon’s voice and Martin realizes he’s been staring into the air for a while. He blinks and looks back at Jon.
“Uh…” He searches for words before he gives up on trying to come up with an excuse. His voice is quiet when he speaks. “Why did you do it?”
Jon blinks at him a couple times and rises to lean on his elbow, to better look at Martin.
“What do you mean?”
“The Lonely,” Martin says, not meeting his eyes. Jon is wearing a blue t-shirt with a logo of a band Martin doesn’t recognize; the shirt is loose and it uncovers one of Jon's shoulders which would probably be distracting if Martin’s mind wasn't chilled by the remnants of the fog. “Why did you come for me?”
Even without looking at him, Martin sees Jon’s forehead ripple. A while passes as Jon searches his face and the thought that he shouldn’t have asked starts creeping up to Martin’s head. Shouldn’t have brought any attention to the subject, he should just be glad, he should—
“I care about you, Martin,” Jon says in a very gentle and quiet voice, like he’s afraid anything louder would take away the meaning of his words. Martin looks up at Jon and the hint of that intense blush from before makes it back to his face. “You’re… You matter to me. You will always matter to me.”
Martin can’t stop a small smile appearing on his face and Jon mirrors it.
“Thank you,” Martin whispers, feeling a warmth settle in his chest, finally driving the cold away.
“Anytime.” Jon lays his head back down and settles back with the right hand near his face. “Sleep well, Martin.”
Martin closes his eyes contentedly and he curls up on his right side, facing Jon, as if trying to keep this warm feeling from escaping his chest too soon.
“You too, Jon.”
---
Martin wakes up alone in an unfamiliar bed, the smell of foreign covers filling his nostrils and for a second he panics. He opens his eyes and the memories come back to him; their late arrival at the safehouse and laying down to sleep next to Jon.
He sits up, looking at the space Jon had occupied. It’s vacant now, just the curled up covers he left behind, but it manages to bring a blush to Martin’s cheeks, nonetheless. It feels so… intimate to know that they slept next to each other. It makes him feel warm and cosy.
Martin gets up and goes to the bathroom before he finds Jon in the kitchen. He’s humming quietly as he finishes cleaning the table and he looks up when Martin enters.
“Good morning, Martin.” He smiles and Martin’s afraid he’s going to melt. He takes a quick look around and notices that their sparse kitchen supplies are mostly unpacked, and the kettle is already on the stove.
“How long have you been awake?” He asks; some of the shock must have made it to his voice because Jon looks amused.
“Two hours or so. I’ve always been a morning person.” He shrugs and finishes cleaning the table. “Tea?”
A smile lights up Martin’s face and he gets swept up by the familiarity of the activity, while Jon busies himself with fixing up some breakfast. As both of them work in the kitchen, Martin notices the casual brushes of their skin and touches of the shoulders. He doesn’t know if he’s doing it consciously or if it just happens naturally, but he knows that Jon’s open demeanour is drawing him closer than before. He wonders if he’s been like this ever since he woke up from the coma, and there was just no one to appreciate it.
The morning is relaxed, the casual conversation flowing a lot smoother than the day before, and after breakfast they set out to clean the whole cottage and go down to the village to buy some actual supplies. The village is small, but the local shop provides all the essentials they need; for a moment Martin forgets about everything outside of that village and shopping for groceries with Jon, as if this is their life now, in the Scottish Highlands, living together in a cottage. They talk about cooking dinner, and the cows they passed on the way, and Martin thinks he could get used to that.
The bubble bursts when they finish up and Jon decides to call Basira. She picks up after a while and updates them on the absence of both Jonah Magnus and Daisy. Basira says she’ll send some statements up to them when the Institute stops being an active crime scene, and a shadow passes over Jon’s face. Wrapped up in a conversation about their taste in dinner dishes, it was almost too easy for Martin to forget food isn’t the only sustenance Jon needs. He finds it easier to forget things ever since the Lonely. They walk back to their cottage in silence, Martin grabbing Jon’s hand as soon as he lets go of the phone.
When they get back, Jon declares he’s going to take care of unpacking and cooking, and even though Martin knows Jon to be stupidly stubborn, he’s surprised by the strictness with which Jon insists he sit back and relax. Martin doesn’t really complain; he’s spent his entire life caring for others and, to be honest, it does feel rather good to be on the receiving end for once. He watches Jon from the couch for a while, before he takes out his notebook and looks over the poem he wrote in the car.
Wisps of mist conceal my eyes
A lone indulgence to lose one's face
And soothing a part inside that cries
With chilling sadness and numbing grace
The steadfast rhythm of waves ashore
As ocean breeze leaves a taste of salt
The words forgotten, erase what I swore
Until I hear your voice once more
I wondered many times what it might be
That we finally took to calling "us"
What would be left if we broke free
Of dread and horror's eternal grasp
The Eye looms aloft, ever-present dread
Watching all, eternal lids apart
You made your choice unaware you were led
By strings of web, against your heart
Jon starts humming under his nose in the kitchen as he cuts something on the board; the water in the kettle boils slowly and fills the air with a quiet whistle. Martin smiles while shooting a subtle glance at Jon; he seems to notice his gaze and falls quiet, but a smile lights up his face when he sees the fondness on Martin’s face. For all this talk about Jon “losing himself” in the role of the Archivist, this seems as human as you can get. Martin never favoured the approach the other archival staff took to the knowledge of the significance of Jon’s position, and he often wondered how they could look at him and see a monster. Of course he made bad decisions, but so did everyone. They’ve seen or read about so many avatars giving into the powers that fed them and yes, maybe Martin is biased, but Jon was nothing like them. They’ve all been caught in this huge web of statements that turned real; the more they struggled to break free the more tangled up they became, and it wasn’t Jon’s fault that he ended up in the centre of it. He knows Jon tried to make right choices every step of the way. Can you really blame a human being for failing to completely resist something that’s beyond mortality and human reality? One way or another they ended up here, together, and yes, maybe the Eye and the Lonely are still looming as very tangible threats, and Jonah Magnus is nowhere near being stopped, but at least they’re together now. Martin remembers thinking the Unknowing was the endgame, the last chapter of this horror for them, and he remembers the hopelessness of their story getting a bad ending that essentially pushed him into the Lonely; now he feels a different kind of an end approaching – he dares to be hopeful. Maybe everything works out in the end? Maybe, if they were safe and happy, it wouldn’t actually be the end of the world.
Martin looks down at his notebook and starts writing, sticking the tip of his tongue out in concentration.
What is a monster? Where is the line
That would separate us from the world
All I know is our paths align
And we together can battle the cold
You cut through the curtains of mist and See
The green glow fades when our eyes meet
My lips form a soft and quiet plea
To be loved has never felt so sweet
To be loved is a new feeling for me
I only know how to love from one side
But with you I hope we can once be free
Maybe ignore the whims of the tide
Although I know we're not nearly through
I taste and savour your voice, your breath
If only for a moment, we can start anew
And I will follow you even to death
As he stares at the last word of the finished poem, his hand with the pen hovering over it, he registers that his eyes have watered a bit. He blinks the tears away quickly as Jon sits down on the couch next to him, looking at him with a gentle worry. Martin looks up at the two mugs of tea he’d placed on the table.
“Did you make tea?” He asks with mock bewilderment, and Jon scoffs at him.
“I know how to make tea, Martin.” He nudges him with amusement, that gentle worry not quite gone from his eyes. “What are you writing about?”
Martin falls quiet, pressing the notebook to his chest in a knee-jerk reaction.
“Thought you didn’t like poetry,” he huffs out a laugh that’s only a little bit self-conscious. Jon shrugs, reaching out for his mug and taking a sip.
“I don’t understand it. And yes, I have been known to dislike it at times, but… Maybe I could be swayed to give it another shot.” Jon rolls his eyes fondly and looks at Martin out of the corner of his eye, a look that says ‘for you’. Martin grins, heat pricking at his cheeks once again.
“You see, i-it’s all about emotion.” He places the notebook gently on his lap face down and reaches for his own mug. “You w-want to put all of your emotions into words in a-an artistic way, that has a rhythm and, uh, and feels alive. And you want your, uh, your readers to feel that, that emotion through your words.”
Jon listens attentively and his eyes aren’t leaving Martin’s face; at one point Martin gets distracted by it and forgets where his explanation was going. Jon’s gaze has always been intense, in different ways throughout the time they’ve known each other. At first it was judgemental, the gaze of his boss, full of unmet expectations; then it was piercing, watchful and suspicious; as time passed, it seemed to gain more and more weight of the Beholding, something Tim always complained about. After Martin had joined Peter Lukas, the rare glances he got from Jon were full of yearning that Martin didn’t understand at the time; didn’t want to understand. Now, it’s that gentle fondness, interweaved with something intangibly sad and Martin feels an urge to hug him, to bring him close to his chest and never let go; to bury his face in Jon’s hair and protect him.
They move to place their mugs at the table at the same time and snort, amusement quickly turning into a fit of laughter. Jon throws his head back a little with it and Martin wonders if he has ever seen him laugh so openly before. He didn’t think it was possible for him to fall in love with the man even more, but once again, his heart proves him wrong. He stares at him with a lovestruck expression and thinks they should really talk about it. Martin doesn’t know where to start though and Jon seems to be thinking in a similar direction because his expression shifts into gentle seriousness.
“Martin, I…” He starts and bites his lip. “I need to apologize.”
Martin straightens a little; it’s not exactly what he expects.
“I—The way I used to treat you…” Pain and guilt flash through Jon’s face as he looks away for a moment to gather his thoughts. “It was not okay. None of it was okay. And I’m—I’m really sorry for that. It doesn’t—I know it doesn’t change anything that happened, but I” —he sighs. “I really am sorry. I hope I can, somehow, uh… somehow make it up to you.”
Martin reaches for Jon’s hand, and he looks down in surprise; Martin sees his eyes start glistening.
“I’m sorry for everything that happened to you.” He continues in a whisper and his eyes are locked on their touching hands. “I’m so sorry about the Lonely. I’m sorry that you’re trapped in all of this with me, and I would understand if you decided to leave—”
“Jon.” Martin squeezes his hand and Jon’s eyes shoot up to look at him.
“I’m sorry, that’s not an apology,” he sighs again. “I just… I’m sorry, Martin. About everything.” His other hand grips Martin’s. “I’m glad you are still here. I’m—I’m so glad, you d-don’t even know,” he laughs.
“I think I do.” Martin smiles gently. “Thank you for saying that. I’ve—I've forgiven you for a lot of it a long time ago. A-And the rest just isn’t your fault.”
Jon frowns.
“The Lonely was always there,” Martin shrugs. “Peter Lukas was just… a catalyst, I think. But now I have you.” His finger grazes the outside of Jon’s palm and his heart flutters in his chest when he sees that small smile appear on Jon’s face. “And you can’t be blamed for Elia—Jonah’s games. We’re all just… a bunch of people who didn’t know what was going on until it was too late.”
Jon’s eyes fall as he nods slightly.
“He’s still up to something,” he says quietly.
“Figures,” Martin laughs bitterly. “But we’re here now. And frankly, I don’t really want to think about him when we’re finally…” The word ‘together’ gets stuck in his throat, as if it would breach this fine line of ambiguity they’ve drawn between themselves. Jon seems to fill it in and his eyes land back on Martin.
He’s never wanted to kiss him more than he does right now. Jon's eyes are wide and glistening with something that looks suspiciously like hope, and his fingers gently graze the outside of Martin's palm. Warmth spreads in his chest and his eyes flutter a little, not breaking the eye contact. He wants to pull Jon close to his chest, to run his fingers through his hair and feel his breath on his own skin. To really feel like he's there, next to him, with him.
Before he can follow through with any of that, something sizzles in the kitchen, loud in the silence, startling them both.
“Food!” Jon chuckles slightly before he jumps to his feet and rushes to the kitchen, while Martin snorts and follows him. Jon stirs the pan with curry and sighs with relief when he sees it's not burned. He turns down the heat anyway and checks on the rice.
“Jon, this smells amazing,” Martin says, peeking into the pan with cheese and spinach. “I didn't know you could cook.”
“Well, contrary to the popular belief I was a functional human being. For a while,” Jon snorts and leans against the counter to look back at Martin. “It's Palak Paneer, my grandma taught me when I was a child.”
“It looks fantastic,” Martin grins, and Jon rolls his eyes in mock exasperation.
Even though the moment's lost, the remains of the feeling can be felt between them as they prepare the plates and take the food to the table. They easily fall back into usual chatter and, as soon as they’re finished, Martin jumps to wash the dishes. Jon relents after extensive affirmations from Martin that he's alright and he can definitely take care of a couple dishes in the sink, and he drops onto the couch with a content sigh instead.
Martin finishes up with the dishes and dries his hands on a towel.
“Do you want some tea?” He asks and hangs the towel back on the rack. When there's no response, he turns to the couch. “Jon?”
Something sinks in his stomach when he sees that the object that consumes Jon’s attention is the poem he’s finished; he scratches his neck, as his cheeks take on a pink tinge. “Oh…”
He walks up to the couch, unsure, trying to gauge Jon's reaction. His face seems tense, he squeezes the notebook in his hand so hard his knuckles go white, and his eyes are focused at one point on the page.
“Um... Jon?” Martin asks weakly, his heart drumming in his chest so loud he's sure both of them can hear it.
Jon jumps to his feet, startled, and looks up at him with eyes wide, like a deer in the headlights. Martin instinctively raises his hands in a placating gesture, as Jon registers his presence, looks down on the notebook in his hands, and quickly puts it on the table as if it stung him.
“Martin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look, it was just there and—”
“Hey, Jon, it’s alright!” It’s maybe a little not alright, since the poem is nothing short of a love confession and a wish Martin had no right to assume would ever be true, so Jon reading it is less than ideal. Martin rushes to gently place a hand on Jon’s shoulder but when he recoils from the touch, Martin withdraws his hand, cursing everything about himself.
“No, I, uh…” Jon runs his hand through his hair, eyes darting between Martin, his hand, and the notebook frantically. “I shouldn’t have— uh, it’s—it’s your private business, what you write about, so—”
Martin is sure he’s tomato red on the face by this point and hopes against hope that the afternoon light filtering through the curtains obscures it just a little. Jon, on the other hand, doesn’t have the embarrassed blush that usually darkens his cheeks; instead he breathes fast, his hands shaking ever so slightly. Martin sees him hunch just a little, making himself smaller.
“Um, yeah, I, uh—” He starts fidgeting with his fingers. Did the idea of—of love frighten Jon so much? He was stupid to leave it out in the open and now Jon knows, and it’s not how he feels, so he hates him… “I’m sorry.”
Jon’s eyes snap to him, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“For what?”
Martin huffs out something like a pained laugh.
“Th-That’s not exactly how- how I wanted to tell you.” He wrings out his hands and shoots Jon a pleading look. What’s done is done and the only thing he can hope for is for Jon to let him down easy and never speak of this again.
“Tell me?” Jon looks down at the notebook again and there’s the worry again, stark on his face. He breathes out, slowly, and looks at the floor. “I don’t—I don’t even want to think this is a possibility…”
Martin doesn’t need to imagine what it would be like to be stabbed, if he wanted to - he’s pretty sure the acute pain of his heart shattering in his chest is close enough. His mind tries to catch up to the emotions, slow them down just a bit, because something seems off, and isn’t this a weird way to reject someone you must have known had a crush on you? But his throat tightens with the swell of pain and shame and Martin blinks away the tears welling up in his eyes.
Jon sighs and plops down on the couch, hiding his face in his hands and pushing his glasses up to his forehead.
“We d-don’t have to talk about it, if—if you don’t want to,” Martin says quietly. He sits down next to Jon, careful not to touch him in any way, and puts his hands between his knees.
Jon lets out a bitter laugh.
“Isn’t that what they—the Web would want? Just… mindlessly follow, go with the flow until something… irreversibly bad happens?”
Martin turns to Jon with a frown.
“Wh—What?”
Jon looks at him with something glistening in his eyes and Martin can see the lines of pain and misery written on his face like they belong there.
“The web,” he says faintly. “Strings of fate. I—” He lets out a breath. “Was I just being manipulated this whole time? Was I ever really—Did I ever have a choice?”
“Jon... what are you talking about?”
“You—You said I was...” He reaches for the notebook and points at a verse with his finger. “’Made your choice unaware you were led by strings of web against your heart.’ How—W-Why did you say this?”
Martin stares into Jon's green eyes with concern, yet parts of his heart start to weave themselves back together. However confused and worried Jon seems to be, none of it is directed at Martin; he looks at him with desperation, almost pleading, and he realizes they’ve been having two different conversations at the same time.
“Oh-Oh, God, Jon, I-I didn't mean—I just, it's a-a metaphor, just that, you know,” he takes a breath. “It does remind me of a web, the-the way we got caught up in Elias' plans.” He looks down, his cheeks burning as he remembers why Jon would get caught at this specific phrase. “I'm sorry for, uh, using that, it was just the first thing that came to my mind and—”
Jon exhales next to him and Martin risks a look up. The uneasiness isn't gone from his face but he relaxes just a little bit, enough to stabilize his breathing.
“I'm sorry for this… this whole thing, Martin.” He gestures at nothing in particular and it's his turn to look at the floor, as if it's all of a sudden the most interesting thing he's ever seen. He starts fidgeting with the notebook. “I'm just—What if it’s true?” His voice goes higher at the question and he closes his eyes. Martin squeezes his arm. “What if I am just... Just a puppet? An inhuman, helpless puppet in the hands of—Of some spider pulling the strings?”
A tear rolls down Jon's cheek and Martin grabs one of his hands. It’s small and still shakes a little; he tries to put all the protectiveness he feels into this small gesture. Jon doesn’t recoil this time, instead taking a moment to watch Martin’s hand clasp around his.
“Jon,” Martin starts softly. “You're still you. You're not some—Some spider puppet that can't make choices.”
“But what if—”
“You've made a choice to go into the Lonely for me.” Martin bumps their knees together lightly and Jon looks up at him. “I don't suspect any webs would need me alive to push you into it. It was You.”
Jon looks him in the eyes and Martin barely stops himself from reaching up to his face to wipe away his tears.
“Or it just makes us think that we have a choice but are ultimately helpless against fate and everything we do is determined by intricately crafted circumstances,” Jon whispers. “Maybe free will is a lie.”
Martin blinks.
“Jon...”
“Maybe I was never able to stop it. Any of it.” Jon’s voice grows more horrified and even though his eyes are directed at Martin's face, he seems to be looking somewhere past him. “Maybe nothing we try to do really matters.”
“Jon.” Martin’s voice gains a bit of force, even though he feels all but sure. “What do you see?”
Jon frowns. “What?”
“Look at me and tell me what you see?” The force is gone; the sentence sounds more like a feeble suggestion than a request, but Jon's eyes refocus on Martin's in a frown of confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“We're here now,” Martin says quietly. “And yeah, maybe our decisions are all predetermined or whatever. I still think it matters that we try. I think our experience matters. And you're not a-a monster without free will, Jon. You care about people, and you’ve sacrificed a lot for other people. You've made your own choices and, no matter if they were good or bad, they were still yours. And I think that matters.”
Jon blinks at him for a moment, then his shoulders slump with a sigh and he interlaces their fingers. Martin doesn’t miss it and he feels warmth in his chest.
“I've always been afraid of—of my will not being my own anymore,” he confesses quietly. “Of, uh... of not knowing the difference.”
“I get it,” Martin nods. “If it’s any consolation, I see a lot of Jon in you still.” Jon looks up at him with surprise and Martin gives him a half smile. “I see a very changed Jon but it's still Jon.” He strokes Jon's palm as his heart picks up the pace. “The same Jon I've first fallen in love with.”
Jon exhales softly, his face caught in a soft surprise, and Martin smiles around the dull ache in his chest.
“You don't have to say anything. I'm sure you've known for a while, but I just... I wanted to say it.”
With every second that passes in silence, however, Martin's cheeks grow hotter, and he concludes that this might have been a mistake.
“I-I'm sorry. M-Maybe I shouldn't have said that, I… I don't want things to get weird or anything, so, uh, we can, we can just forget—”
“Martin.” Jon says his name in a soft and kind of inquisitive way that makes his heart bounce around and transforms the ache in his chest into swirling butterflies again. Martin looks up and Jon’s head is tilted to the side, his face still wet with tears, but he notices something hopeful glitter in his eyes. “I love you too.”
Martin frowns, suddenly wondering if he isn't dreaming. Is Jon really saying what he thinks he is? Did he hear correctly? Maybe he misheard—
“I have for a while,” Jon's voice is still quiet and soft. “I didn't want to say anything because I thought it was too early after the Lonely and you might not feel this way anymore, but...”
Martin swallows, acutely aware of how loud his heartbeat is. He squeezes Jon’s hand and smiles slightly.
“I... I didn't know,” he whispers, not trusting his voice to cooperate.
“As soon as I woke up from the coma, I wanted to tell you,” Jon says. “I thought I was too late; that it took me too long to stop denying the feelings I had because I didn’t know how to deal with them, and I'd missed my chance.” He laughs bitterly.
“So that’s what it was about,” Martin whispers, as Jon's actions towards him throughout his time as Peter Lukas’ assistant start falling into place. Jon looks at him with a frown, so he adds, “The ‘let's gouge out our eyes and escape'.”
Jon scrunches up his nose and clears his throat.
“Yes, well. Yeah.”
Martin chuckles quietly.
“I don't think I would have lasted in the Lonely if I understood then. But then again. It didn't really matter in the end. It didn't help.”
“But it was your choice,” Jon echoes Martin's words from before and their eyes meet again.
“Yeah. It was my choice.”
They stare into each other's eyes for a moment, losing track of time, before Jon smiles slightly and looks back at the notebook.
“I really am sorry for not asking your permission, though,” he says. “I got so caught up in the metaphor I didn’t even finish it.”
Martin blinks, the warmth from his chest spreading to his cheeks again.
“D-Do you want to?”
Jon smiles softly, this new smile that Martin has only seen in the past couple of days, always directed at him.
“If you’d let me.”
Martin needs to look away, unable to handle the affection in Jon’s eyes. He mumbles an ‘okay’ with a smile that’s not entirely under his control and gets up.
“But I am making that tea whether you want it or not, waiting for someone to finish reading something is a torture.”
He hears Jon laugh as he heads back to the kitchen.
When he comes back with two steaming mugs, Jon is waiting for him with a smile and his nervousness dissipates with his next words.
“I like it,” Jon says. “Apart from the, uh, web metaphor, obviously. It's hopeful.”
“Y-You do?”
Martin swallows; the pleasant tingling in his stomach is back. He places their mugs on the table and reaches out to join their hands again. Jon intertwines their fingers immediately and caresses the outside of Martin’s palm with his thumb.
Jon looks down at the verses again and smiles softly, almost sheepishly, a familiar blush darkening his cheeks.
“I—I don't know if there would be anything for us outside of. You know. The fears and all that,” he grimaces. “At least, for me. But, uh…” He looks at Martin again with a hopeful expression that makes Martin melt a little, and he gently caresses Martin's cheek with his free hand. “I really like the thought of it.”
Martin's brain might be short-circuiting at this moment and all of his thoughts take form of fuzzy static.
“Me too,” he says, suddenly breathless. Jon's hand rests cupping his cheek and, are they a bit closer than they were a second ago? Jon's gaze slides down Martin's face to his lips and he feels he might faint right there and then. He doesn't, instead gathering up his courage to take a breath.
“Can I kiss you?” Jon asks first and Martin feels his lips form a grin.
“Please,” he breathes out; the next second their lips meet, soft but urgent, desperate and sick of waiting. Martin's hand dives into Jon's soft hair, fingers scraping the delicate skin of his head and earning him a low sound from Jon's throat. They pull each other closer and find a rhythm to lose themselves in for just a moment; the sensation of Jon's tongue swirling in his mouth, of his slender fingers on his cheek and his neck, the pressure of his body against his chest; all of it making Martin dizzy with happiness.
Martin pulls away when his lungs painfully remind him breathing is still a necessity and he opens his eyes to look at Jon – His soft lips, his nose, his pockmark scars, and his eyes, green yet with no trace of Beholding in them. He takes him in whole, with all of his flaws and all of his virtues, and he feels seen in return, seen by the man he loves and who loves him. The weight of it all hits Martin like a crashing wave and he pulls Jon in for a tight embrace.
“I love you,” he whispers against his shoulder, and he feels Jon's arms tightening around his torso.
“I love you too, Martin.”
#tma#the magnus archives#tma fic#summer in the archives event#niki.writes#jonathan sims#martin blackwood#jonmartin
61 notes
·
View notes
Text
Remus Lupin x Reader
A/N: i’m horny and i’ve got cramps so enjoy this blurb 🧍♀️ does anyone else get back pain during shark week??
Warnings: whole lotta smut, titty-fucking, some sort of oral sex, reader’s on her period, and it’s almost the full moon. not proofread.
Y/N cuddled further into the blanket, knees coming up to lay just below her chin as the pain grew. If she was spread out, her back would feel much better but her cramps would grow worse. Laying in this current position, her cramps eased but her back ached. She was truly torn.
She was shivering - even after Remus had made sure her feet were covered in socks, her bottoms were covered by his fluffy pajamas, and a quidditch sweatshirt James had loaned to him years ago, laying a heavy duvet atop her shaking figure. He came back from the shop, finding her in a fetal position with her eyes wide open.
“What’s wrong, doll?” he asked, gently dropping the bags in his hands at the foot of the bed before rushing over to her side.
She looked up, whimpering as she moved to look at him.
“I don’t want to sleep,” she pouted.
He chuckled, looking around the room.
“Well, you can watch TV, read a book-“
“Rem, you’re not listening,” she stopped him, the feeling of cramps completely subsiding as something else swam in her tummy. “I don’t want to sleep.”
Her voice was more assertive, a tone that Remus new all too well.
“But...how-“
Her hands grasped his, placing them on the mounds that rested on her chest, his fingers curling the littlest bit into the cotton covering her skin. He thought about it, his hands completely frozen on her breasts as she looked up at him.
“You could even fuck them if you wanted. Call’s yours, Mooney,” she teased, her tongue swiping at her bottom lip.
In less than a second, he had his hand splayed across the back of her neck, lips attacking her own, as well as her neck. He slipped off the sweatshirt in no time, her breasts overly swollen.
Thinking back to all the times his hands would casually slap against the skin, earning a moan from her as she rode him, his hand undid the drawstring of his sweats, using one hand to remove his pants while the other fondled her breasts. His thumb ran over her nipple, earning a jolt and a squeal from the girl sitting on her knees in front of him.
“Sensitive?”
It seemed as if he were teasing her, which he in fact was, but it was far from harmless.
“So fucking sensitive,” she murmured, one hand running up his abdomen and the other playing with his shaft over the pair of black boxers.
She felt as if her spine was brittle, seeming to break a little more as she leaned more and more into his embrace with his hands caressing every acre of her chest, not leaving any spot unattended. Her fingers hooked at the hem of his boxers, his cock springing against his abdomen.
He groaned at the kitten licks that landed on his tip, his hold on her breasts more aggressive as she wrapped her lips around him. He had her breasts surrounding his cock in little time, his tip rolling against her tongue as she’d stuck it out specifically for the task.
“You enjoying this, daddy?” she questioned, reveling in the way his calloused thumbs circled her nipples.
“So much, kitten,” he breathed out, residue of his precum making it easier to thrust between the valley of her breasts.
His hips were bucking up every now and then, sputtering at a point before he came. Spurts of cum painted her chest as her toes curled, the feeling of tension releasing from her body as he continued his assault on her breasts. He leant down briefly, rolling her right nipple between his teeth.
“Fuck,” she cried out, her nails clawing his back as he bit and nibbled at the skin til she was thrashing beneath him.
She quickly got up, taking care of herself and coming back in the same sweatshirt she’d been wearing previously.
“I wanted to see my art,” he playfully sulked, laying between her thighs as she got into bed again.
“There’s no doubt that you won’t be able to add onto it,” she giggled, pecking his lips quickly.
After completing his business, he rushed to her side once again, embracing her in his warmth.
“Bad time of the month for the both of us, innit?” he spoke up, the softness of her breath hitting the side of his neck.
Her eyes darted to the window, examining the moon. Having been with the dog for quite a few years now, she’d learned to read the phases of the moon quite well.
“Full moon?”
“This weekend.”
“Seems like you won’t have to use my tits by then.”
Taglist: @thatcatsit @apieceofuniverse @oleariaux @zhangyixingxing1 @arianabrashierstuff @ficticiouscreativity @milazka @snoopydoop1 @hufflrpuffforfred @adoregin @ilovejjmaybank @eunoia-kth @mrspadfoot4 @akalittletimmytim @kaitieskidmore1 @amourtentiaa @ftwert @wholebigboxofyikes @lainerain17 @cami05sworld @slytherclawdiggory @fific7 @toxicmodernity @anchoeritic @widowdays @ch0kemedracomalfoy @hoghfunctioningfangirl @seriusblackswhore @sambucky8 @harry-styles-1800 @georgeweasleysbabe @taysiasworld @partr1dge @kittykylax
#remus lupin#remus lupin smut#remus lupin blurb#remus lupin blurbs#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x reader#marauders hp#marauders era#marauders smut#marauders
218 notes
·
View notes
Text
1D Monthly Fic Roundup
Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for August 2021! Below you’ll find 23 One Direction fics that were all published this month in the order they were submitted to the blog. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup.
Happy reading!
He Carries The Key by @lululawrence
[Niall/Louis, OT5, 8k, Not Rated, tumblr post]
Niall was mostly home, ready for a shower and a chat with Louis, when suddenly Niall was flooded with emotions from the pack bond.Shock. Surprise. Confusion.But mostly fear.Something was wrong with Louis.
Plus One by mynameispiaivy / @missrefridgefreetorator
[Louis/Luke Malak, 3k, Mature, tumblr post]
Louis is invited to an event and he has to bring a "plus one".
Better Mistakes by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10
[Harry/Louis, 117k, Explicit, tumblr post]
“Look, this doesn’t have to be the end of the world-”
“Oh but it fucking is,” Louis said, shaking his head. “How the fuck am I going to tell Matt I’m pregnant with a baby when we’ve not had sex in months? He might be a bit thick sometimes, but he is gonna know there’s no chance this baby is his.”
“You don’t have to, uh, tell him it’s mine, right?”
Louis scoffed. “Why, are you scared he’s gonna come and kick the shit out of you?”
“He wishes,” Harry laughed, looking back down at the test. “Shit, I … I can’t believe this. Louis, I didn’t mean for this. Honestly. It was just sex for me. We have great sex, and I didn’t see why I should have to turn that down, not when you clearly wanted it as much as I did. I didn’t want this to end in a baby.”
Louis knows he shouldn’t be sleeping with his boyfriend’s enemy. He knows that. But there’s something that draws him back to Harry over and over again. Falling in love wasn’t part of the plan...
Thou, Sun, Art Half As Happy by @lululawrence
[Louis/Harry/Nick Grimshaw, 7k, Not Rated, tumblr post]
Hello, I’m sorry if this isn’t a post that is allowed on this channel, but I was hoping for the best since it is regarding a photography project I’m working on at the moment. I’m working on a set of sunrise kiss photos and therefore am needing a willing kissing partner. I’d hoped to be able to provide one for myself, but it hasn’t panned out, so here I am! I was hoping to find someone here, since I know most of you (at least peripherally) and can generally vouch for you not being creeps. Plus this way I know you will understand needing to continue to tweak the camera settings and reshoots etc that others might not.
Anyway, I’m looking for someone who identifies as male or male-ish (sorry, ladies) who is between the ages of 18 and 40. I’m a 29 year old male-ish myself, for those who would like to know before replying.
If you’re interested and are free the early morning of August 7th and would like to kiss in the sunrise with me for the sake of some (hopefully) interesting and fun photos, let me know via DM and I’ll give you the location.
OR the one where Louis needs a kissing partner, two show up, and it all might turn out for the best that way.
call my name and save me from the dark by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same
[Louis/Harry, 4k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]
“I don’t know if it was a nightmare,” he confesses to the ceiling, the darkness making it easier to speak up even when he still has to close his eyes to stop himself from tearing up. “It feels more like a memory. But it can’t be.”
Harry shifts, and Louis can feel his chin perched on his chest, doesn’t need to look at him to know that Harry’s studying him. “Why?” He prompts, when Louis doesn’t immediately continue, and Louis swallows, tries to shrug off the apprehension, the fear that Harry will think that he’s gone mad.
“Because I heard them pronounce me dead.”
Feels like home by @neondiamond
[Louis/Harry, 2k, Explicit, tumblr post]
Louis comes home from work with an exciting surprise. Daydreaming and celebrations ensue.
this is my jam by @disgruntledkittenface
[Harry/Louis, 4k, Mature, tumblr post]
The guy’s eyes are so blue that Harry can’t tear his gaze away, even as he moves to the beat. The searing light shade is magnetic; he finds himself leaning in and yelling, “This is my jam!” only to earn a laugh from thin pink lips that Harry’s definitely going to be dreaming about tonight.
“Your jam?”
When the guy yells back over the music, his blue eyes sparkling and his lips twisted in a smirk, Harry’s chest literally puffs out with pride at earning his attention. His obvious approval. Tongue-tied, Harry nods and closes his eyes as he lets go, the music reverberating around them. All of the usual inhibitions that keep him in the corner at parties fall away and he bounces around the center of the dance floor, waving his arms above his head. Somehow his towel stays on, even as he starts to think he wouldn’t mind if it fell off. Fuck it. He finally made it here, he’s damn well going to enjoy it.
Harry goes to a gay bathhouse for the first time. 90s AU.
I Know My Arithmedick (2 + 2 = 4sum) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright
[Harry/Louis + Louis/multiple partners, 3k, Explicit, tumblr post]
Harry wants to watch Louis fuck someone else. Louis loves giving Harry what he wants. It’s simple math, really.
doG…and his friend by @uhoh-but-yeah-alright / yeah_alright
[Louis/Harry, 3k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]
When Joan has to move out of her small, nice home and in with a random roommate, she obviously brings her dog/boyfriend, Doug, with her.
Doug makes a friend. And maybe more.
I Heard You Talking by @lululawrence
[Louis/Harry, 10k, Not Rated, tumblr post]
It had been an hour of their noise that Louis had been dealing with, and for some reason the fact that these grown men were being this rowdy in the quiet carriage over a game of Uno was the breaking point for him. He stood up and turned around, making his way down to where the group of five were somehow gathered around a table.
Louis stopped at the table and cleared his throat, mouth open and ready to politely request they keep it down when the man who was sitting with his back to Louis turned.
He was stunningly gorgeous.
Blinking a ridiculous number of times in an attempt to pull himself together, Louis coughed and spit out, “This is the quiet carriage.”
God, he was nearly forty and that was the best he could do in front of a set of pretty, green eyes?
Or the one where Harry is famous and Louis doesn't have a clue. Good thing his son is able to help him out.
All That You Need by @haztobegood
[Louis/Harry, 2k, Explicit, tumblr post]
Pre-heat was always one of Harry’s favorite times to spend with Louis. It was a time to rest up and indulge in extra cuddles, like basking in a ray of sunshine before having to dive off the deep end. Louis lavishes him with tender touches and soft kisses. Harry wants to savor this time as long as possible. The unquenchable need will come later, but for now, his desires are simple. He just needed to be closer to his alpha. As close as possible.
sickly sweet fonding by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose
[Louis/Harry, 1k, General, tumblr post]
A few members of their crew start piling up the dirty dishes and taking them over to the sink. Harry walks around the cameras, and smiles brightly at Louis.
“What do you think, Lou? Do I have it in the bag?”
Louis eyes a bowl of bright pink lumpy batter being cleaned from Harry’s side. “Of course you do.” He wraps an arm around Harry’s waist and steers him away, all while ignoring the dramatic gagging Niall is doing. He doesn’t think it’s just the batter making Niall gag.
or the one where Louis fonds over Harry's horrible baking skills
Fractured Moonlight by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose
[Louis/Harry, 1k, Mature, tumblr post]
Louis huffs because he doesn’t want to deal with this. “Listen, I appreciate your concern.” He doesn’t. “But it’s not your duty to look after the sad man at the bar. Okay?”
'Ere comes the milk by stretchmybones / @onlyfor-thegays
[Harry/Louis, 1k, Explicit]
Louis is obsessed with Harry's mommy milkers.
everything comes back to you by stretchmybones / @onlyfor-thegays
[Louis/Harry, 8k, Explicit]
Harry and Louis are childhood best friends. What happens when Harry has to move towns just as they are starting their secondary gender presentations? What happens when fate brings them back together years later in the most unexpected of ways?
He Still Takes My Breath Away by @parmahamlarrie
[Harry/Louis, 32k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]
Camp Infinity is the perfect place for a lot of things; hiking, swimming, sports, eating, and falling in love. Harry Styles is a bit too familiar with the last one from his years of being a camper. This year things will be different. He’s 21, a grown man now, and ready to see Camp Infinity from a different point of view; working as a lifeguard. However, his whole summer turns upside down when a familiar British lad makes his return into Harry's life.Or the one where Harry is a lifeguard and Louis is the head of recreation. And, sometimes, you just need a little push to realize what was right in front of you the whole time.
Also known as – The Summer Camp Fic
tread lightly on my ground by fairytalelights / @lookslikefairytale
[Louis/Harry, 20k, Explicit, tumblr post]
No, that's the tragic part of this, the part that makes Harry feel like the universe is playing a cruel joke on him. The father of his baby is exactly right, exactly who he always imagined himself having kids with. He just imagined them married, bonded. Happy.
He didn't imagine them barely talking, tip-toeing around each other because neither of them is brave enough to talk about what happened between them. He didn't imagine the father of his child not loving him back.
or, the one where Harry is having Louis' baby, but Louis doesn't know it's his.
Getting a Head for Heights by @ladyaj-13 / LadyAJ_13
[Louis/Greg James, 3k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]
The problem is, Louis thinks Greg would be quite good to date, so it would really help if everyone would stop reminding him of that fact so he could unthink it. He’d be a gentleman, at least until Louis talked him out of it, and he’s funny and nice and hot and they’re both into music and football and drama. He’s also a freakish giant of a human, and the problem with dating is that sooner or later you have to stand next to each other.
We Go Together (series) by @beelou / cherrylarry
[Louis/Harry, 3k, General, tumblr post]
A grease au
Hot Boy Summer (series) by @louisandtheaquarian / zita17
[Harry/Louis, 35k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]
Louis is an overworked bartender hoping to save up enough extra tips to buy a new air conditioner before he literally melts during a scorching NYC heat wave. Harry is the new neighbor that wakes him up by moving in his sole day off at 6am. An NYC enemies to neighbors to lovers AU featuring a rickety fire escape, the 2021 Euros, Lirry bickering like a divorced couple, and enough OT5 clichés to rot your teeth. (If Harry's pastries don't get them first.)
across the river is where my heart is by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou
[Louis/Harry, 8k, General, tumblr post]
The first time they see each other is when they are toddlers, playing out in the yard. Louis remembers sitting on the perfectly trimmed lawn and getting yelled at for picking at the soft blades of grass; she remembers looking over, across the narrow but deep and wild river, and watching another little girl, out in a different garden, picking flowers for her mother.
She remembers carefully raising her hand and waving—her little heart beating hard in her chest, as if she had done something dangerous, something forbidden, even though back then she could not understand the true divide the River made amongst them.
bright eyes, blue denim by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou
[Louis/Harry, 2k, General, tumblr post]
Louis' favourite jeans have suddenly disappeared from where he always got them. Harry is a store manager with an affinity for customer care, particularly when the customer has bright blue eyes and happens to be very flirty.
whatever you feel like doing in this moment by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou
[Harry/Louis, 2k, General, tumblr post]
Louis gets all that he's ever wanted during his favourite game at their group's weekly improv show.
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call
OK so here we are with the penultimate part! BIG MASSIVE THANK YOU to the absolute loves of my life @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys and @fratboytj for helping me write this because I am a dumpster fire of a human and this would still be unfinished had it not been for them 💛💛💛
Hope you like it!
Read the whole series: I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all
---------
“This right here is our issue!”
“I don’t care. You need to leave.”
---------------
You and Evelina were leaving for Los Angeles the next day, the presentation not quite done yet as your boss bombarded both of you with texts asking for updates while you were just trying to relax at home after what had been a stressful week of work. The two of you had turned into gremlins as soon as you came home, hair tied back, sweatshirts on, hoods up, facing each other while sitting cross-legged on your living room floor, typing faster than you probably needed to every time your boss sent a new suggestion.
“Does he really think adding in a transition between these two slides is going to do anything? Like, there are no other animations in the entire presentation, why these two slides?” you huff, pushing the fly-away hair out of your face as you look to Evelina, hunched over her laptop with her computer screen illuminating her face.
Your phones continue buzzing as you try to put the finishing touches on your laptops. “Whatever this man is smoking, I need some to deal with him,” Evelina mutters. You look up from your computer, questioning the statement that just came out of her mouth. “What?” she asks, “Don’t act like you wouldn’t, too.”
“I’m texting him and telling him we’re going to stop for the night and talk with him in person about it tomorrow at the airport and on plane,” you tell her, setting your computer down next to you. You lay down on the floor, stretching your body out with your hands over your head, your toes pointed, groaning so loud you practically scream as your phone lays silently next to you.
“Have you heard from Matthew?” Evelina asks, breaking the silence that was normally broken by texts from him.
You shake your head, sitting up again. “Not a word.”
“Have you tried to talk to him?”
You take in a deep breath, closing your eyes as you pick up your laptop again. “Nope. Nothing posted on our stories on Instagram or Snapchat in a week, no texts, no calls, no Facetimes, our streak gone on Snap. We’re both radio silent,” you start, trying to fight back the tears that you knew were coming. This was for the best, maybe. You didn’t need to be preoccupied with the idea of liking someone that was just going to hurt you. He was only meant to be your friend. Your best friend.
“I’m sorry, babe,” she says, turning her head. A small piece of paper under your couch catches her eye, stretching to see what it was. “What is this? ‘For Ev and Hg’ Who’s Hg?”
“I think that’s me,” you say, reaching for the card, Matthew’s messy writing scrawled across the small paper. It must have fallen off the box that had the jerseys in it, you figure.
“That’s not right,” she says, pulling a laugh from you.
“Matthew calls me that: Hg is the chemical symbol for mercury, coming from hydrargyrum, the Latinized form of the Greek word hydrargyros, which means water-silver. Mercury stops oxygen from reaching the brain and it drives you crazy. He’s saying that I drive him crazy,” you explain, a sad smile on your face as you play with the card, curling the corners of it slightly just so you had something to do.
“That is surprisingly smart and cute for him,” Evelina gushes, a sudden wave of sadness washing over her. “I think this is my fault,” she admits.
“What?”
“Matthew not talking to you. Matthew knowing about the list.” You stare at her, not sure what to say. What was she talking about? “I told him about it the night you started it.”
“What the fuck?” you scream, “That’s the reason we had this whole fight in the first place. That’s why we aren’t talking right now. Ev, you ruined my friendship with Matthew!”
“You’ll get through it,” she tries to reassure you, unable to look at you. “Couples fight all the time.”
“We were not a couple!” you yell, standing up. “And now, because of you, we never will be.”
“Is that what you wanted?” she yells back, getting up with you as if you were about to start physically fighting. “Do you want to be a couple? Or do you just want him to be your friend? I don’t care anymore, but until you figure out what the fuck you want, you can’t fix this.”
You look down at your feet, wiggling your toes in the socks you had on. “You’re right,” you admit to her, trying to stay as calm as you could. “But why did you have to tell him about that list? What do you think it’s like to find out that someone you care about has been keeping something like this from you?” You stand there quietly for a minute, neither of you sure what to say to the other. “I’m going to go to my room,” you say, finally breaking the silence, “Just, don’t bother me for a little bit, ok?” You don’t let her answer, picking up your computer from the floor and retreating to your room to lock yourself in for the time being.
Evelina sits down on the floor, trying to figure out what she can do. This was her fault. Or was it yours? She had suggested the list, but you were the one who went along with it. She made the bet, but you wouldn’t drop it. She wanted you to be with Matthew, but you have been fighting it no matter what everyone else tells you.
She shakes her head, picking up her computer, a reminder from her calendar coming up in the top corner: Flames @ Kings, 7:00 p.m. Friday. Staples Center. With all this bullshit, would you even still want to go to the game? Evelina pulls up her phone, hearing loud music coming from your room, thankful that you wouldn’t be able to hear her conversation.
“I can see on her Spotify that she’s playing the playlist we entitled “depressed bitch” when she broke up with her last boyfriend and I can’t stand to see her like this. Why did you have to bring up the list?” Evelina barks into her phone.
“Why did you have to have Y/N start the list in the first place?” Matthew’s voice comes through on the other end. “With no list, then we wouldn’t be in this fucked up mess in the first place. You’re the reason I’m not talking to her.”
She knew he was taking his anger out on her. And he’s right, as much as she hated to admit it. “I know it’s my fault,” she says, begrudgingly, “which is why I’m trying to fix this. She cried for five hours after you left last week. She did not sleep for two days and I think the only reason she did was because our boss is an exhausting jackass. It’s because of you and me, and she’s made her peace with me as far as I can tell. I need you back in the picture.”
“Why?”
“Matthew,” Evelina groans, hating that she had to explain her reasoning to him, “you’re good for her. You’re good to her. You listen to her. You hear her. From the moment you met her, you were absolutely infatuated with her.”
“Yeah.”
“So why haven’t you talked to her in a week?”
She hears him let out a deep sigh, swearing she could hear him sniffle as if he were crying. “Because I’m in love with her. I love Y/N. And I know that the more I try to pull her back to me, the harder she’s going to push away.”
“Why do you love her?” Evelina asks, grabbing her computer, an idea popping into her head as she balances her phone between her shoulder and her ear, pulling up a blank document.
He scoffs, starting, “Her way of relaxing herself is by ranting about obscure facts that no sane person would actually care enough to read, let alone commit to memory. And she absolutely lights up when she tells you this stuff. She has this, this soft smile that still somehow reaches her eyes when she’s talking. At the end of her rant she makes that face where she scrunches her nose because she thinks it’s embarrassing that she just spewed all those facts to you.”
“Keep going,” Evelina instructs him, her fingers flying over her keyboard as he talks.
“Are you typing?”
“I’m working on...work. Keep going, I’m listening,” she says fast, hoping that he wouldn’t question her.
“I like how she dresses, and I know you think she doesn’t have good style but hear me out: she dresses how she’s comfortable. She doesn’t dress up often because it’s not something she wants to do so it’s not something she does do. But, fuck, when I see her dressed up in the slightest, she looks beautiful. She looks great in anything she wears.”
Evelina couldn’t help but smile as she continued to type, not even needing to egg Matthew on to keep spilling his guts to her, his voice getting more confident with everything he listed. “Have you ever noticed how she doesn’t hold a pen correctly? What was it, her grandmother taught her to write outside of school so when she went to school and already knew her teachers saw that so they didn’t focus on her and catch that she was holding it wrong? So now she’s constantly playing with it to distract herself from that fact, which makes no sense, but whatever. And she has ink all over her hands all the time because she keeps twirling it between her fingers and dropping it.”
“She’ll joke that it’s ‘abstract art.’” Evelina cuts in, both of them laughing.
“Come on, even you love that. She’s so stubborn. Once she gets any idea in her head, she won’t give it up because she knows she’s right. It drives me crazy.”
“Mercury,” Evelina mutters.
“What was that?”
“We found the card that you wrote with the jerseys,” she explains, peeling her shoulder away from her face and holding the phone with her hand for a moment, “You call her Mercury because she drives you crazy.”
Matthew stays silent for a moment, forgetting that you were supposed to see him in Los Angeles against the Kings that Friday. “Are you still coming to that?”
“You mean is she still coming with me?” He doesn’t answer again, leaving Evelina to fill the empty space in the conversation. “I’m going to try to get her there. I want her there. And I know she wants to be there, too.”
“I remember the night we met,” Matthew says, changing subjects, not wanting to think about the possibility of not seeing you at that game, “it was just a normal night out with the guys and then two girls who we hadn’t seen before walked in. And normally we wouldn’t think anything of it, but,” he exhales, “I don’t know. The entire energy of the bar changed. All of us felt it. And then the two of you walked up to us. You were fucking annoying,” he jokes, earning a scoff from Evelina.
“Watch yourself Tkachuk, don’t make me mad right now.”
Rolling his eyes, even though he knew she couldn't see him, he continues, “The guys loved you immediately, it was like you had known them for years the way you fit in. But then there was Y/N. She’s your exact opposite: you were this loud force of nature but she was quiet. There was just something about her that I had to get to know her. I knew she was different around people she’s comfortable with and I just had to be one of those people. Couldn’t even tell you why.”
Matthew keeps talking, Evelina typing as he keeps telling her about his feelings. In a lull in your music, you can hear her laugh from your room, thinking to yourself that you were glad at least one of you was having fun with whatever it was they were doing. You finally sit up, having been sprawled on your back on your bed staring at your ceiling trying to think of something, anything that wasn’t Matthew. You look around your room, trying to ground yourself from the pain you felt from not hearing from him, not wanting to reach out to him to begin with. You see your computer on your dresser, forgetting that you put it there once you got to your room, getting up to put something on from Hulu.
Out of the corner of your eye, in the reflection of your mirror, you see a black sleeve sticking out from the rest of the clothing that was hanging on the back of your door. You put your computer on your desk, flipping through the clothing to see what it was. You pull it off whatever hanger it was on, a wool winter pea coat, definitely not yours.
Because it was Matthew’s. When you first met him, you were so comfortable around each other. You could go over his place with ease, not feeling awkward when you fell asleep on his shoulder while watching a movie, feeling completely normal when you woke up the next morning and used his bathroom as if it were your own, eventually keeping some stuff there for when you did stay over, no matter how little use it served you the night after the charity event.
He was the same at your place. He has stuff around your room everywhere, you never really blinking an eye at the pair of his sweatpants and the tshirt that were somewhere in your drawers for when he slept over. Not even a year ago, he left in the sweatshirt, the coat he wore the night before left on the couch without you realizing it, making its home on the back of your door only to get shuffled right up against the wood as you hung more and more clothing in front of it.
You walk over to your bed, not taking your eyes off the coat. You sit down on your bed, hearing some sort of jingling sound from somewhere in the coat. Digging through the pockets, you can feel something metal in the front right one, a piece of paper poorly folded around it. Should you be going through the pockets of someone else's coat?
Who cared at this point? You take out the contents of the pocket: a key and a receipt. Your heart was racing, having a feeling about what both of these things meant. The receipt was dated the night you went out to the bar when you moved to Calgary, the night you met Matthew and the rest of the boys. Matthew’s name was on the bottom signaling that it was his, a few drinks circled by who you assumed was him.
Those were the drinks he bought for you that night, the drinks he would always ask you if you wanted befor you could get a word in first, ‘vodka sour = lemon,’ and something else you couldn’t quite make out written on the side. The next time you were out with them, a vodka sour was the drink he bought you because you told him you liked lemon but hadn’t found a drink that you liked with it in it. That was the drink he bought you the night of the charity event.
On the back of the receipt, again in Matthew’s handwriting, ‘my home is your home, Y/N.’ In your hand was a key, with a lemon charm hanging off of it.
It was a key to his apartment.
You couldn’t begin to fathom the emotions that washed over you in that moment, knowing that he was going to give you his key, probably before you even thought of giving him one for your place. Fuck, you didn’t even give him one, Evelina did. You didn’t even think about it, and there he was, a key for you, planned out, thoughtful, meaningful. You felt like crying because of sweet it was.
You pick up your phone, pulling up Matthew’s contact to call him. Your finger hovers over the button. All you had to do was press the button, and you would talk to him for the first time in a week. Before you can tell yourself no, you hit the button, a picture of the two of you coming up on your screen, ‘Matthew, calling,’ rolling over your phone in bold white text.
You didn’t even know what you were going to say, holding the phone to your ear. Actually, you knew what you wanted to say, hearing the phone ring, and ring, and ring. It wouldn’t stop ringing.
It was a sign. One that you shouldn’t be calling him, hanging up immediately and blocking his number so that he can’t try to call you back. If you were meant to be with him, then he would have answered when you wanted to talk to him most. He would have called you first.
Every emotion you felt turned into anger. You wanted him to call you. You wanted him to be there for you, because if this were happening with another guy, Matthew would be the one sitting there on the bed with you talking you down when this hypothetical man didn’t answer.
“Mother fucker!” you scream, throwing the key against your door, letting it drop to the ground, wishing it was smashed.
Evelina hears you, hoping that the conversation with Matthew would end soon so that she can go check on you when he says, “What about how she’s always so quick with her chirps? I have never met someone who’s so fast with a comeback. She’s better than any guy in the NHL. Better than anyone,” Matthew says, still on the phone with Evelina, his voice getting quiet. “Better than anyone,” he repeats himself.
“I’ve known Y/N’s last two boyfriends and between her and Thomas recounting the high school boyfriend, I feel like I knew the third,” she says, partially regretting bringing up Thomas’s name, “You really love her?”
“Haven’t I said that already?” he snaps.
“Yes, but I want you to say it again. She is my best friend and has had plenty of people say that they are in love with her. You’re the first one she’s been in love with back, though.”
Matthew’s breath hitches at those words. If Evelina was saying it about you, then it had to be true he figured. “Of course I do.”
“Ok,” is all Evelina can say, leaving the two of them in silence for a few seconds.
“Uh, bye, I guess,” Matthew says, hoping the awkward silence that fell between them would end.
“I’ll text you later about something. Bye,” Evelina hangs up the phone, letting out a long sigh before getting off the floor. Wandering to your room, she knocks on your door, waiting for any sign of life from you to tell her she could come in. “What is this?” she asks after stepping on the key, handing it back to you, plopping herself down on your bed..
“Matthew was going to give me a key to his apartment,” you tell her, waving it around in the air.
“When?” You shrug, honestly not sure how long ago the coat was left there, not sure how long it had been in his pocket in the first place. “I need to ask you something,” she says.
Not really paying attention, that stupid key in your hand, you answer her anyway, “What?”
“Do you like him?”
“Him who?”
Evelina rolls her eyes at you, telling you who even though she really didn’t need to. “Matthew.”
“Of course I do. He’s my best friend besides you.”
“Do you love him?”
“Why hasn’t he called?” you ask, quietly, her instead.
Evelina sighs, “He probably wants to give you space,” she tells you, even though she knows the real answer. “He just wants you to go to him when you’re ready. You know he would never push you to do something you don’t want to.”
The two of you sit there in silence for a moment, neither of you sure what to say. Would Matthew want you to reach out first? If he did, why didn’t he answer the phone just now? “Y/N,” Evelina presses, you knowing that she wanted you to respond to the question you intentionally left unanswered.
You pick up the receipt that was beside you, the key still in your hand, wondering how he could have thought yo give you the key before you even thought about it yourself. And why did he never give it to you? “Ev. I said no. He’s just like Thomas. He loves me and I don’t feel the same way, and I’ve lost him just like I lost Thomas,” you insist.
“You didn’t lose him,” she tries to reassure you. “This is going to work out.”
“How do you know that, Ev? He means everything to me. You and him are the two people outside of my family that I care the most about. What does it say about our friendship that we get into some stupid fight and now we don’t talk for a week?”
“Y/N,” she lets out a small laugh, “He loves you.”
You shake your head, swallowing hard as you turn the key over in your hand for what felt like the thousandth time. “If he did he would be here right now. He would have called, he would have done something to show me that he cared about me.”
“Y/N,” she tries.
“No, Ev. Can we just drop it?” you beg, reaching over to your nightstand and throwing the key and receipt in the drawer. “We have to work on our presentation, we leave tomorrow, and we still need to finish packing.”
The rest of the night was spent by the two of you not saying more than monosyllabic sentences to each other while you worked on the finishing touches of your presentation, packing the last of what you needed for the trip and triing to get your mind off Matthew. You zip your bag up, satisfied that you were finished when you see the jersey Matthew gave you sitting there on your floor, in a pile of other clothing you meant to put away.
You pick it up, like you did the jacket that was now sitting on the couch, a note laying on top of it for Evelina to give it back to Matthew. Sighing, you fold up the jersey, leaving your room to go put it with the coat. You didn’t want it. You had no need for it. All you could do was let it go.
You couldn’t sleep the night, any time you closed your eyes and managed to doze off, Matthew’s image flashed through your mind. Every single memory you had with him seemed to be manifesting themselves in your dreams, unable to shake him no matter what you did.The nights you spent together on the couch watching whatever was on TV, teaching him to make your favorite cookies, even though he burned them to a crisp no matter how many times he would check the oven, the two of you going Christmas shopping for your families, buying each other the dumbest gifts you could find to see who you laugh harder. Not a single bad memory came up, besides the last time you saw him. Was everything with Matthew actually that perfect? Or were you blocking things out?
Your alarm goes off but you were already awake for it, groaning loudly prompting Evelina to come running to your room. “Are you ok?” she asks in a panic. “Babe, did you sleep at all last night?”
You didn’t even want to know how awful you looked, just hoping that you would be able to cover it up with makeup and get some semblance of sleep while on the plane even if it were only a three hour flight. “Maybe an hour?” you guess, even though you were sure that was an over exaggeration. “Whatever. We have to go get ready.” You get out of your bed and storm to the bathroom, closing the door before Evelina could even say anything.
You looked like you had been hit by a truck, hating how you came across as you stared at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were red, the bags underneath them so rich in color they could probably be designer, your skin discolored like you were sick. You would need makeup and a miracle to fix yourself at this point.
“Y/N?” Evelina says, opening the door without you inviting her in. “I found the coat and jersey.” You make eye contact with her through the mirror, pursing your lips and nodding as you get back to putting on your makeup. “You really don’t want them?” You shake your head, swallowing hard. If you kept them, then they would tempt you to go back to him. Getting rid of them was the only thing you could do. “I put them in my room for now, ok?” You nod again, still not saying a word.
“I’m worried about you,” Evelina says. “Even with those other guys you’ve broken up with, they have never left you this broken.”
“I’m over it. I’m just tired.”
“We both know you’re lying about this. You know how you feel. You know that you’re in love with him, you always have been.”
You put your makeup down on the counter, staring at the powder in it’s container. “I can’t say it.”
Evelina takes a step back. “What?” she asks, surprised by your response.
“Thomas said he loved me, and that was it. The friendship was over and we haven’t seen him in years. If I say it to Matthew, if I admit it at all, then it’s going to be done. It already is done and I never said it.”
Evelina could feel her heart breaking, trying everything she could not to start crying in front of you, worrying that it would set you off as well. “You know that’s not true.”
“I do in my head, but not in my heart,” you say, letting out a laugh, “That sounds like something from a stupid Hallmark movie.” Evelina lets out a small laugh with you as you continue. “Can we just drop it this weekend? We just have to get through this conference. And get through a weekend with our boss.”
“Ok. I’m gonna go finish getting ready, then,” Evelina says, backing out of the bathroom.
By the time both of you are finished getting ready, your boss had texted you that you needed to be outside waiting for him in the next ten minutes when they pulled up with the car that all of you were taking. “Ok, last check. Boarding passes?” you start your list.
“Mine is the front pocket of my bag, yours are in the folder you have with your computer.”
“Passport?”
“Same places as the boarding passes for both of us.”
“Computers?”
“Side pocket of your bag, middle of my bag.”
“Chargers?”
“Somewhere in my bag I have a phone charger and a computer charger for both of us.”
You keep going through the long list, both of you knowing where the other kept everything. You freeze when you get to the last thing on the list, written in Evelina’s hand writing instead of your own. “Jerseys.”
“I have mine. Yours is in my room.”
“Good,” you say, almost completely forgetting about the game. You shake your head as if to physically shake the thought of Matthew from your mind. “Got your keys?” you ask Evelina, her waving them in your face as you grab yours, too. “Let’s go then.”
The two of you lug your stuff towards the door, opening it and ready to leave when you see him there. “Matthew?” you say, surprised to see him standing in your doorway, a bouquet of flowers in hand, a guilty expression on his face as he looked like he hadn’t slept for days. “What are you doing here?” you ask in shock, feeling your heart start to race.
“Can we talk?” he asks quietly, debating on stepping into your apartment or not.
“No. We’re leaving for the airport now, we don’t have time,” you tell him, trying to move past him.
“Come on, we need to talk,” he insists, putting his arm against the frame of your door to stop you from moving past him.
“Why should I listen to you?” you ask, looking up at him.
“Because I love you.”
#matthew tkachuk#matthew tkachuk imagine#calgary flames#calgary flames imagine#flames#flames imagines#nhl#nhl imagines#hockey#hockey imagines
335 notes
·
View notes
Text
#9 - Slippers, No New Friends
@cloudyunicorn698 You were first in line, and I'm glad you chose NNF because I realized writing this that I missed that universe. 🤌🏻
___
Maura lets the breeze wafting over the Waterfront caress her face - the car had been uncomfortably warm on the short drive from her father’s bar to here, and the cool wind calms her nervous system. She engages the lock and shrugs her purse over her shoulder, finally feeling her heart slow and her lungs expand.
The salt in the air reduces her queasiness, too, when she takes it in. With her hand on her barely growing belly, she closes her eyes to savor the return to stasis. Madonna mia, she thinks, lunch was almost lost. She takes one look back at the Mercedes parked in the middle of this open warehouse, and decides she’s going to follow that salt all the way out to the dock if it makes her feel this good.
She’s got family business to attend to, as well, some that she told her father she would personally check on. “Hey, you two,” she calls out when she sees Jane and Frankie. They’re busy, Jane just finishing up tying Patrick Ryan to a pole, while Frankie positions his feet into two hastily-fashioned wooden boxes.
Jane looks up first, always first, and smirks, eyes alive with love and some other dangerous thing Maura is still learning. But Frankie, he bursts into action, rising to his full height and putting his arms out when he sees her. “There she is!” he shouts, full of affection like the man they’ve gagged isn’t whimpering uncontrollably next to him. “Mother of the year, mother of the decade, mother of the century!” he exclaims when he walks to her, taking her face in his big hands and kissing her cheek with gusto. “Muah!” he says as he does.
“Hi, brother,” she says kindly, kissing his cheek back and smiling at him. He is twenty-three, and starting to look like a man with his slicked, styled hair and his shirts and ties. She likes him.
Jane rolls her eyes, tying the last bit of rope tight enough to elicit a scream from Mr. Ryan. “I think he’s more excited for her to get here than me,” she says. She nods to Maura’s midsection.
“He better not be,” Maura warns playfully when she approaches. She surveys their… associate like a work of art, or a high-quality cut of meat, circling him. “Just married with a baby on the way? There better be no one in Boston more excited than you.”
Jane gives the surly game up. She blushes. “You got me,” she says. “I don’t think there’s anyone in the county more excited than me. You sure we gotta wait nine months?”
“If we want to make sure she has a beating heart and ten fingers and toes, yes,” Maura teases. “She’ll be here soon enough. Keep that enthusiasm when you’re going on night three of no sleep.”
Jane chuckles. “I’ll try.” Maura returns her attention specifically to Mr. Ryan’s Gucci loafers, and Jane follows her gaze. “Motherfucker had the audacity to put on our people’s fashion, you believe that? After he tried to off one of us.” Specifically, Tom DiVincenzo. It was a silly plot devised by a rogue Irish crew, and as a show of goodwill, Paddy Doyle had offered his docks as Patrick Ryans’s dump site, free of charge. At Maura’s suggestion, of course.
“I’m more surprised that concrete slippers are an actual thing,” Maura says, touching one wooden box with her toe while Frankie fills the other one with fast-setting concrete. She steps aside when he finishes and moves to her box.
“Cement shoes, babe,” Jane corrects with a small laugh. “We call ‘em cement shoes. And we figured we’d go old school here. You like?”
Maura raises her eyebrows and smirks. “Vintage.”
“Inspired, yeah? We’re makin’ things real literal, since that’s what the Irish seem to understand,” Jane insults Patrick to his sweating, tear-stained face. “No offense, Maura.”
“None taken, my love,” Maura stares at him, too. “This was stupid of you. You deserve to sink,” she tells him. He shrieks, probably some appeal to the Irishness in her. She ignores him.
“And there!” Frankie says once he’s finished. “Give it twenty minutes and you’ll be swimmin’ with the fishes, Mr. Ryan.” He pushes Jane’s shoulder, proud of his contribution to their mob-lingo parody.
“Alright, alright,” Jane says, brushing him off despite her own humor. She points her thumb to Maura behind her. “Let’s make it twenty on the dot because I’ve got to get these two to an ultrasound appointment.”
#no new friends#otp prompts#did I unwittingly make this a challenge given how many I will write?#idk#but this was a lot of fun#I miss mob Jane and Maura#lauren writes rizzoli and isles fanfiction
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
Portfolio; Part 2
Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader
Genre: Angst, fluff, CEO!Harry
Word count: 3.2k!
A/N: Hi everyone!! I am back with part 2 of “Portfolio”!! The first part had such great reception and a few people have asked for a part two. As always, I would looooove some feedback and I hope you enjoy!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist!
Part 1
“Nice work, Miss Y/L/N,” Harry told you, walking briskly through the office, holding up the binder that contained the proposal you had been working on recently. You watched as his long legs gracefully carried him down a row of cubicles, both of you doing your best to conceal the smiles threatening to break onto your faces.
“Thank you, Mr. Styles,” you chimed as he passed you and your secretary. He muttered something along the lines of ‘now get back to work,’ before he turned around and shot a million dollar smile in your direction. You quickly winked at him, hoping no one noticed, and hid your cheeky grin in your cup of coffee.
“I think Mr. Styles likes you,” giggled your secretary, Charlotte, taking a sip of her tea as you took a gossip break outside your office.
“We’re just friends now,” you lied through your teeth. “We work better when we’re getting along than when we’re at each other’s throats.” Oh, how you loved his throat, and his neck, and his jaw, and his smile. He was a never ending piece of art and you could stare at him all day long.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you two carpooling to work in the morning,” Charlotte playfully pried.
“We just figured out we live close by each other,” lie, “and it gives us more time to talk about work,” lie, “and we just think it’s better for the environment,” semi-lie.
“Whatever you say boss,” she said amused and moved to answer the phone that had begun ringing on her desk.
It had been four months since that night when you ended up in his arms with his pouty lips pressed up against yours for the first time. It was the first of many, many more kisses you shared.
You had spent these last four months peeling back his hard exterior and getting to know the mushy center. You knew the way he took his tea in the morning, the songs he sang (surprisingly well) in the shower, and the way he always slept on his stomach, sheets pooled around his waist. While you hadn’t said it, the two of you knew that you were quickly falling in love with each other.
Harry had become a huge part of your life and you two rarely were apart. Work was a series of knowing glances and stolen kisses any time you and Harry were alone. While you two had become an incredible professional team, your productivity when working together had slowed, unable to get much work done when he was constantly trying to convince you to hook up in his office. Outside of work, you spent nearly all your time in his penthouse dressed only in one of his expensive dress shirts that he insisted looked better on you than ever did on him.
Your phone buzzed on your desk, bringing you out of your Harry-induced daze. Meet me in the copy room ;), your phone read. You let out a laugh and playfully rolled your eyes before making your way across the office to your intended destination.
Opening the door, you only got a glimpse of your gorgeous boyfriend before he pulled your body to him, your lips falling into a well practiced dance against one another. You kept your hands rested against his chest, learning from your mistakes of previously messing up his hair during a particularly passionate trip to a storage closet. While you remained careful to leave no clues of what you two were doing in the copy room, Harry buried his hands in your hair and moved to leave kisses down your neck, sure to leave some type of bruise. You pulled away from him, breathless, gently scolding him for being so careless.
“Harry, I will not fuck you in this copy room,” you told him, smoothing your pencil skirt and straightening out your blazer. You were met with a needy and pathetic pout that made the large man look like a small child who was denied a piece of candy.
“What makes the copy room off limits?” he smirked down at you. “We’ve had sex in most of the rooms of this office.”
“No lock on this door,” you smiled, moving to your tippy toes to kiss him lightly on the nose and turning to leave the room. He reached out and grabbed a hold of your wrist, pulling you back into him.
“I don’t care who sees,” he spoke against your lips as he connected you once again. “I’m sure my girl and I put on quite the show.”
“You are an arrogant son of a bitch, aren’t you?” you giggled in between soft kisses, arms hooked around his neck. “And I care, Harry,” you confessed, pulling away from him and looking seriously into his bright green eyes. “I worked hard to get to this position and I will not let people attribute my success to me sleeping with my boss.”
“But you are sleeping with your boss,” he called after you as you separated yourself from him and moved towards the door again. “Quite a bit actually.”
“But it didn’t get me to the top, did it?” you winked, exiting your hiding spot.
“I quite like it when you’re on top.”
***
This was definitely not sustainable.
The “good working relationship” cover could only work for so long and the way you acted could give it away any moment. You were so comfortable and happy with each other now, a rare and impossible feat before, and it was hard not to notice. You two had done a complete 180 and you could only pray the office was turning a blind eye. It was hard to pretend that you weren’t falling head over heels in love with this man.
There was a reason this was forbidden. Harry was in a position to manipulate and take advantage of his professional power above you and you understood why it was absolutely not allowed. There was a laundry list of powerful men who had taken advantage of their female subordinates and hurt them and their careers beyond repair. While you both were very consenting, it was a power dynamic that could quickly turn sour.
You both had plenty at risk. While you were desperate to stay secret for the sake of your professional reputation and career aspirations, Harry had a Fortune 500 company to worry about. SPR was growing at a rapid speed and was quickly becoming the most sought after public relations firm in the country. You anxiously held your breath whenever at work, praying both of you could be on your best behavior, refusing to be the reason Harry fell from his golden boy position in the business world.
Harry had briefly suggested you quitting and just letting him take care of you. That idea made you feel like a sugar baby in your own relationship and you were not okay with that. He also brought up the idea of quitting your formal position and working as a freelance consultant so the HR policy would no longer apply, but you were quick to shut that down as well. While you would do anything to be with him and stop worrying, your career came first. There was no guarantee that you two would work out and you refused to give up your career for any man.
There was a brief period of time that Harry had considered a publicity beard. Hiring some model to pretend to be Harry’s girlfriend for the paparazzi would take some of the heat off the both of you and probably advance both of their careers. But you knew you were far too jealous to watch him with someone else, even if they were being paid to be there. You tried to be cool, calm, and collected at all times, but when it came to Harry, something ignited in you that you just couldn’t turn off.
Watching from across the office when his new, and irritatingly attractive, assistant began was torture. Cami was smart and beautiful and way overqualified to be running to get his dry cleaning and scheduling his rides to the airport. She was a tall, stick thin, blonde bombshell and you couldn’t understand why she was working in an office and not walking a runway. You watched the bedroom eyes she gave him every time they made eye contact, annoyed at how similar they were to your own, constantly looking up at him and batting her eyelashes. You always got a kick out of watching him shut her down when she started on her breathy ‘Mr. Styles’ voice which resembled Marilyn Monroe’s rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ for JFK.
“Mr. Styles,” she sing-songed, “would you like me to get you something for lunch today?”
“No. I’m going out for lunch,” he dead-panned harshly. It made you feel good that he was meeting you at home for lunch, and the strong possibility that you were lunch made you feel even better. You watched from the doorway of his office as he didn’t even look up at her from his computer, a smirk threatening to break out onto your lips.
“Hi Mr. Styles,” you alerted him to your presence. His eyes shot up to make contact with yours, fighting a smile off his own lips. “I have a proposal for you to review.”
“Have a seat,” he said, motining for you to sit across from him at his large mahogany desk. Cami hung in the corner, waiting for some sort of command when Harry told her to leave and shut the door behind her. Leaning back in your chair, you took in the man sitting across from you. He wore a light blue suit that was perfectly tailored, paired with a white dress shirt, and navy tie. His hair was pushed back, just long enough for some of his natural curl to show. His eyes shined in the light from the floor to ceiling windows of his office that framed him and as soon as the assistant left the room, a huge smile rested on his face.
“So, what proposal do you have for me?”
“I can see it now,” you began, putting on your best proposal voice. “Dinner, a bottle (or a few) of wine, and movies at your place tonight.”
“My love, you could sell wood to a forest.”
***
That night started out calm enough. You had ordered in your favorite Italian place, the same one that you had shared your first real conversation over, and ate it over a bottle of wine. You two sat at his kitchen island, both dressed in Harry’s comfiest clothes, and talked about your days. It was a long day in the office and you were exhausted and the few glasses of wine running through your system were not helping. You leaned over on your barstool, resting your head on his shoulder, receiving a light kiss to your forehead in between bites of his dinner.
“Just so you know, Marcus was a bit of a dick to me today,” you slid into conversation in between bites of a garlic knot, always one to stir the pot.
“I’m sorry, honey. I don’t like him very much either but I can’t just fire someone because I don’t like them,” he explained softly.
“You can fire Cami,” you said before fully thinking. You watched from his shoulder as he questioningly raised his eyebrows, mouth still stuffed full of food. “I just don’t like the way she acts around you. She looks at you like she’s ready to mount you at any second.”
“I can’t fire my assistant because you’re jealous,” he said with a light chuckle.
“Harry, I’m not jealous,” you asserted while lifting your head off his shoulder to look him in the eye, not sure if what you were saying was fully true. “I just don’t like the way she acts around you.”
“You’re jealous!” he pushed, poking and teasing you into anger. He wore his famous smirk across his lips and while you usually thought it was adorable, tonight it was pushing every one of your buttons. Your cheeks began to heat with a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment, intensified by the wine you both had been drinking.
“I would have been more jealous if you you went through with that stupid beard idea,” you spat. It was Harry’s turn to get offended now. His eyebrows shot up his forehead in surprise at your comment, before they settled in a frustrated scowl.
“I was just trying to help,” he countered, his voice low and gravely. “You’re the one who’s so uncomfortable at work.”
“I can’t be comfortable at work knowing that if we were to get caught, both of our careers are finished!” You slid off the barstool, unable to be so close to him right now, and began pacing the immaculate kitchen. “Knowing that you just want me to quit so you can keep me up in this penthouse barefoot and pregnant doesn’t help either.”
“Y/N, come on. You know I don’t want that.”
“You’ve asked me to quit for you more than once, H.” You were both standing now, circling around the kitchen island. You walked away from him everytime he got close, the thought of him touching you right now made your blood boil.
“I wanted you to quit so that we can be together!” he raised his voice as he defended himself.
Your career was everything to you. Your work was what gave you the opportunity to escape New York and get a fresh start in London. You had to put an ocean between you and your ex to feel safe again, and your hard work and talent was how you did it. You would not give it up for a man.
You and Harry had never fought like this before and you were worried how similar it felt to when you and your ex would fight. You had promised yourself that you would never be in a situation like that again.
“You’re the fucking CEO!” You were both yelling now. “ You’re in charge of everyone there. You can change the HR policy if you want.”
“No, I can’t. Were both in PR; you know how that would look for the company and both of us.” He argued from across the island. “My employee can’t be my girlfriend.”
“Okay,” you said after a pause, suddenly calm.
“‘Okay’ what?” Harry asked, chest still heaving for yelling.
“I don’t want to be either anymore.”
You marched your way to his couch, grabbing your briefcase and work clothes. You heard his calls for you to stay and pleads for you to take it back, but you ignored them. You made your way to his front door, slamming it behind you as you left.
***
Four Years Later
You sat in the conference room of SPR for the first time in over four years. The table and chairs had changed, no longer the heavy wood conference table you had known. It had been swapped out for a long black oval table that was flanked with chairs that were now filled with lawyers.
Harry sat directly across from you, in the same spot he sat the first night you began to fall in love with him. He looked a little different now; his hair had gotten longer, he had grown out a bit of a beard, and he had a couple more tattoos. You couldn’t help but think about all the nights you had spent together in his bed, your fingertips tracing the designs on his skin. Your eyes bore into each other, scanning each other’s face for emotion and desperately trying to get a read on the other.
It was easy to fall back into your distanced body language. While you were connected through intense eye contact, both of your arms were crossed, shielding yourself from the others’ stare. You had been competitors these last few years after all. Today, that was all changing.
After you left that night in a storm of jealousy and hurt, you made good on your threats to quit and started your own firm. You began to climb your way up the PR ladder and four years later, you were Harry’s biggest competitor. When the idea of a merger came about, you were hesitant but understood it was what was best for both of your businesses.
A thick contract was passed across the table between the both of you, both CEO’s silently signing on the dotted line. “The merger is complete!” your lawyers cheered excitedly, only small smiles finding their way onto your faces. “You are now Co CEOs of Styles-Y/L/N Public Relations.”
“Congratulations Chief Executive Officer Styles,” you spoke as you lifted yourself out of your chair, reaching out a hand to offer a handshake. You offered him a cold smile you had practiced to perfection in the mirror in preparation for today’s events.
“Congratulations Chief Executive Officer Y/L/N,” he repeated after you. When your hands met, the familiar sparks shot their way up into your arm, your heart beginning to flutter. You knew that feeling in the pit of your stomach that he caused so well. You got it whenever he was around, like he continued to have some sort of magic over you after all this time.
You left as the small celebration died down, opting to meet with Harry in his office to devise a plan moving forward concerning office space and upcoming projects. Strictly business, you constantly reminded yourself. Soon, the sun began to set and you decided it was best for both of you to head home.
Walking out of the building, it felt strangely familiar to the night you had first shared together. Your footsteps fell insync as you silently walked into the parking garage and towards your own cars. You looked over at his hand and realized he had already put his ring on.
“Hey, I thought we said we were going to put our rings on together after the merger,” you smiled as you fished around your blazer pocket for your engagement ring and wedding band.
“Honey, I thought you saw me put it on,” he laughed, flashing you his bright smile and the golden band that sat on his left hand. You carefully slid the rings onto your ring finger, covering the slight tan line you got when you wore them outside of work. You intertwined your hands, walking the rest of the way to your cars as a couple. You giggled as you always did at the sight of a baby’s car seat in the back of Harry’s sports car.
“I’ll pick the baby up from my mum’s if you grab dinner on the way home,” he offered.
“Sounds like a deal,” you agreed and pressed your body up against him, pecking his lips as he ran his hands up and down your back. “It feels good not to hide at work anymore.”
“No one can take advantage of the other if we are both in charge, right?” he smirked.
“Not according to HR,” you chuckled softly, resting your head on his chest before pulling away and getting in the car next to his.
“I love you, Mrs. Y/L/N-Styles!” he called into your car when you both rolled your windows down.
“I love you more, Mr. Styles!” you called back. “I’ll see you at home for our business meeting!”
Thank you so much for reading!! Please let me know what you think in my ask! Requests are also open :)
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles angst#harry styles fluff#CEO!harry#boss!harry#harry styles imagine#harry styles one shot#harry styles drabble#harry styles blurb#harry fanfiction#one direction fan fiction#one direction#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fic#my writing
752 notes
·
View notes
Text
How You Spend Days Off
I stuck to only the three main peeps, but I’m looking forward to writing for more JJK characters. It was actually really nice to write for them, so I hope you enjoy~Amanda
P.S: Be safe out after dark!
Warning: N/A
( 2.1K+ words)
↳{shenanigans you and your S/O get up to on days off}
Yuji:
Days off with Yuji are unpredictable and always either involve something thrilling and very energy consuming or it can be some of the simplest things a person can do- no in between.
Yuji usually is the one who makes plans during your spare time (though he always gets your opinion, of course), he just really values time with you and wants to experience so much together while he can
It was common knowledge that this coming Friday, all the students would have the time off to rest as a reward for all their hard work with the recent influx of curse activity. Yuji wasted no time in planning the perfect day together, from the moment you woke up next to him to when you both fell asleep, he had something ready.
“Ah that was delicious Yuji, thank you” you cheered, arms stretched high above your head in an attempt to work away the sleepiness the food had made you feel. “No problem! Only the best for you, princess” Yuji’s smile reached past his shining eyes, thrilled you enjoyed the assortment of plates and bowls filled with your breakfast favorites he’d surprised you with. “Well then, my prince, to what honor do I owe your company today?” you asked leaning against your balled fist and bent elbow on the table, amusement and adoration laced on all your features. “For one day only, yours truly scored us tickets to…! Drum roll please!” Yuji posed dramatically, eyes cast down while crouched and pointing in a funny manner.
You proceeded to bang your fist against the table, laughing lightly, “We’re going to spend all day at Monster Con!” he pulled out two floppy pieces of paper from his back pocket as you gasped, “Oh I’m not finished yet, princess, we’ll also be wearing matching costumes I hand selected” You stood quickly, clapping at his theatrical performance as he bowed, repeating, “Thank you, thank you”. You made your way to infront of the boy, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders while he enveloped your waist tightly, pressing you against him. “Not going dressed as your pesky alter ego, huh?” you joked staring up at the taller kid, earning you a slight pout, “No, he’s not invited” he grumbled. “Sorry, that joke was in poor taste” you apologized, shifting to run your thumb along his juted bottom lip to smooth out the lines.
“No worries, I know ya didn’t mean anything by it” your hand stayed cupping his cheek, both star-filled eyes trained on each other as you both wore the cheesiest grins. Just as you stood on your tip-toes to close the space between each other, a warm gust of breath blew against the palm holding Yuji still, “I was wondering why you hadn’t spoiled the moment” you sighed, lowering yourself to lean your forehead against Yuji’s chest instead. A small mouth carved into its host cheek frowned, now free to speak without your hand suffocating it, “I can handle the women’s teasing, however what have I done in my many lifetimes to have to suffer through this painful love-sick puppies act” Sukuna complained. “Many things actually” you responded, muffled by Yuji’s shirt that smelled of a citrusy-warm blend you couldn’t get enough of. “Why do you always kill the mood?” Yuji groaned up towards the ceiling, earning himself a scoff from the demon king. “Oh? You mean like that I wouldn’t let y-” “SHUT UP!” Yuji slammed his hand against his own face to silence the man, his cheeks inflamed.
Now clad in matching costumes, you as frankenstein's wife and Yuji as Frankenstein, from the hair to the clothes to the make-up, you both spent the day without any further hiccups; how Yuji kept Sukuna at bay, you didn’t know, but I didn’t really matter. The stares from passengers on the train to the convention center was obvious to everyone but you two, lost in your own little love-sick world of old-fashion horror movies, delicious food, and pure, unfiltered content.
Megumi:
Megumi is a simple guy who likes simple things; he’s overworked and more exhausted than he even realizes, however he doesn’t acknowledge that...ever. In fact, you could run a mile ‘too quickly’ by his standards and he will have you take a break and drink his bottle of water (though you had your own and he knew that).
On your rare days off together, Megumi would silently stick to you like glue; he wants to do something for you in the creative way Yuji does and definitely wants to spend the time with you, but he can never come up with a complete idea of how to ‘wow’ you.
Except you didn’t need to be wowed, in fact you really were burnt out, so when the day came when you had nothing to do but be together, you planned a whole day of nothing with a side of Netflix and take-out.
You knocked on the door to Megumi’s dorm that was just a few paces away from your own. It was almost noon and you still wore your pj’s from last night, cookie monster shorts and an old shirt of Megumi’s you took last week, having made no attempt to fix your hair. “Umi~!” you whined, banging on the door a little harder, the plastic bag from the convenience store rustling at your side. “Coming” Megumi opened the door in a similar state; pj’s still on and hair sticking in even weirder directions than normal.
“Mornin” you greeted with the faintest grin, “sorry to wake you” “ I was just getting up” he yawned while he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Sure I can tell by the bed head” you teased, earning a playful eye roll from the boy. You waved the bag of goodies in front of his face, “Let me in, I’ll make it worth your while~” he chuckled, “I doubt it” despite his words he stood to the side, letting you past and closing the door behind you.
His dorm was dark and a little stuffy, clearly Megumi hadn’t had time to do the in depth cleaning the little neat-freak was so fond of. The continents of the bag clacked together and scattered around as you tossed it onto the small table in the corner, making your way over to his comfortable futon that smelled of his signature eucalyptus soaps. You flopped about for a moment, stretching, snuggling into the sheets still warm from Megumi, who was watching the small scene from the door, “C’mon Umi’ I wanna get through at least two episodes of SVU before we inevitably fall asleep wrapped in each others arms” you called dreamily with lidded eyes, already tired again as you buried beneath his sheets and pillows.
Megumi could feel his chest ache and stomach flutter at the image of the one who he cared for so much that it physically hurt laying there in his bed with soft, kind eyes just for him- it was almost too much. “Umi, I will eat all the sour snakes if you don’t come over here, your sheets are getting cold” Megumi was cut off by his own thoughts of admiration by your voice. He chuckled at the cute way your face cringed a bit at the sour-sweet taste of the candy before sliding into bed too, your head laying on his chest as he held you close. A small, genuine grin spread across his lips as the sound of Netflix starting rang from the TV, holding you even tighter, ‘this is perfect’
Nobara
Be ready to put on your best dressed because you and your girlfriend are hitting the town! Of course Nobara would find her way into the city whenever she could, foreign to the endless wonders the busy streets had to offer and luckily for her, you happened to be far more native with the many sights to see.
She’d let you sleep in, holding you tender as she traced her nails across your skin to form intricate patterns until you woke. You both would totally be the couple that wears matching outfits, the same colors and patterns tailored to your personal styles- of course this would also lead to thousands of pictures for Nobara’s instagram.
You two would laughed, eat delicious foods, and would spend way more than either of you cared to admit nor did you want to because the price of absurd, unfiltered laughter and the feel of just a good time, was one both of you could pay a thousand times (and a new pair of shoes too)
The sun hung lower in the sky than it did when you started this little adventure before noon, having been sold on the idea by Nobara that she “only needed a few things” this morning. Now, exhausted perched on a steel chair outside some cafe you’d never heard of with your sore feet elevated on the other empty one you waited for your girlfriend who was inside somewhere.
“Jeez even my fingers are cramped” you groaned flexing your numb digits; shopping was a grueling vice because no matter how much you’ve already bought, more cute sweaters, tops, and matching accessories called to you by name and the art of saying ‘no’ wasn’t exactly in Ms.Kugisaki’s vocabulary. “Here ya’ go babe” Nobara emerged from the shop with two cups, handing one to you before sipping gingerly from her own. You brought the plastic straw to your lips, sighing in relief as the contents quelled a thirst you didn’t even know had been building up. “I don’t think we did too much damage” your face fell and eyes bulged, flailing your arms out around at the brightly colored parcels that littered the table and surrounding floor, “Nobara there are at least fifteen bags here”
She laughed, her hand falling on top of your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze, “Still no that bad”. She scooched her chair closer to yours, her thumb rubbing nonsense circles into the denim of your jeans, “What next?” she asked leaning into her seat, her brown irises watching yours fondly, “Food? We haven’t eaten since a lot earlier and I could turn into a wolf any second and eat you” you teased, though food sounded better and better the more you thought about it. “Eat me? You promise, baby?” Nobara’s smirk earned herself a not-so-graceful, but light kick from you.
“An impromptu picnic sounds great” Nobara decided, tapping against you in finality. It became a game: You both had 30 minutes to run around the delicious food district to pick out each other's favorites, as many as you liked (which would be more food than two can eat), then you’d reconvene at the same cafe. Nobara offered to pick up a blanket at the convenience store because she ‘knew you so well she wouldn’t need the whole half hour.’ The game was on and time was ticking as you both rushed in opposite directions with several bags and a hunger to please the other.
You scurred around each vendor, selecting different meat dishes and veggies, cakes and watermelon, and even splurged on some fancy sushi from the place she'd wanted to try. Your arms quivered under the weight of the many shopping bags and take-out boxes, but you were determined to get back first. “Just around the corner- Are you kidding me?!” you yelled. In the exact steel seat she sat in earlier, was Nobara with an array of bags around her, boxes and the blanket stacked neatly on the table with dark sunglasses adorning her face and her legs crossed cockily as she spoke smoothly, “Beat ya”
Both of you grossly overestimated the amount of food you could eat in one sitting as practically unopened boxes lay stacked on top one another on the blankets while watermelon rinds and used plates were thrown into a garbage bag. The sun was low, almost at the horizon, painting the sky in pastel oranges and pinks with hints of purple and blue; the spring chill had blown a little heavier now that the sun was setting and it was getting harder to stop the shivers. Nobara laid against the trunk of a tree with you between her legs, holding you as her manicured fingers idly massaged your scalp quietly- you would have fallen asleep at the small gesture had you not been actively keeping your eyes open. “The boys will be grateful for the food, I’d hate wasting it” she yawned to which you only hummed.
“Hey” you turned your head up slightly, only enough to meet her gaze, “today was really fun” she smiled, slithering across your arm to grab your cheeks gently in her fingers, forcing your lips to pucker, “yeah it was.” Your wobbly smile made Nobara feel things, too many things at once, and a lump began to form in her throat, “I love you” you mumbled, Nobara’s breath caught for only a moment, whispering a thick “me too.”
Masterlist
#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#megumi x reader#nobara x y/n#nobara x reader#yuji x y/n#yuji x reader#megumi x y/n#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fluff
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
10 years with Jungkook
California
You met Jeon Jeongguk in the summer of 2012. Two kids brought together by a calling to California and a chance at making it big. Best friends from the start, what happens when only one of you becomes successful? Do you ever forget your first love?
Childhood friends to lovers, angst and smut.
Words: 4600
Warnings: 18 plus smut. Oral F, Sex MF, Swearing. Pretty Mild for me. This is a previously posted fic that has been updated and reworked.
It was a rare rainy August day in California. The heavy drops created a sad melody on the window as you put the dishes away. Tired and lonely, the feeling in your gut kept nagging at you, maybe it was time to give up.
The savings account was drained, there were no jobs to be found and this was the second month of falling short on rent. Surely it would only be a matter of time before your roommates would stop exchanging house cleaning for money.
Hanging the threadbare towel over its hook you stood in the kitchen, your mood mirroring the dim light of the afternoon. Feeling frusterated and stupid, it had taken you way longer than it should have to realize that in LA, you were nothing. Not pretty enough, rich enough, skinny enough or talented enough to ever make it big. So this is how the great Califonia chapter of your life would end, not by choice but necessity.
Gathering up the mail that was strewn across the countertop, you shuffled through it sorting its priority. Junk mail, bills, personal…one in particular standing out. Your heart began pounding as you took in the details.
The penmanship was nice, black ink on an unassuming envelope. But it was the stamp that caught your attention. It was sent from Korea.
Flipping it in your hand you examined the torn top. The letter, having been read, was cradled back safely inside. Addressed to your roommate a frown crept onto your face. Why wouldn’t he write to you?
It was a ridiculously hopeful notion but you widened the envelope and inhaled trying to find a trace of his fragrance, something, anything to trigger a happy memory. Cool California nights were the best excuse. How many times had you borrowed his sweaters just to have his smell on you?
You missed him. It had been a year and a half and you couldn't help but once again ponder the nagging question that always crept back. If you hadn't forced him to break the rules would he still be a part of your life?
It was too tempting to resist, your fingers pinched the paper inside of the envelope and pulled it free.
I’m feeling low, I don’t know who I am, only who I’m supposed to be.
What would life be like if I had stayed in California? We could all be roommates, hanging out and having fun, going to the beach on weekends.
Does she even think about me?
It sounds greedy that with how much I have right now, it’s not enough. I would give anything to wake up in bed beside her everyday. I want more than anything to be able to talk to her about these things but I can’t. I’ve made the mistake of trading her for fame and now I’m destined to keep her at an arm’s length so she’ll never know the price I paid.
How does she even see me? As an Idol? As the boy who abandoned her? Has she forgotten the good days we spent together?
I’ve been wrestling with myself, whoever that is. I wish I could be the teenage boy from that long ago summer again. I wrote this song thinking about it…
~When I see you smile in the screen
You’re good at everything
You’re just perfect
Feels like I've never been you
Do you even see me?
Do you know who I am?
Or how do I look now?
You don’t like me like that
I want to be your decalcomania~
I’m afraid I may not get back for a while, please write. Your friendship and thoughts of her are the only things that are keeping me tethered to some semblance of reality.
JK
Clutching the letter to your chest, your mind took you back to that day.
"Decalcomania, the art or process of transferring pictures and designs. Making a copy of the original on a different medium"
Reading the description on the wall you’d both stood laughing at the piece's strange name, Decalcomania. The gallery visit felt like lifetimes ago but you still remembered clearly. You remembered, not because the piece had struck you as particularly special but because that's where you had decided that Jeongguk's laugh was the best sound you'd ever heard.
California had lured you into its promise when you turned 14. Having been accepted to an intensive dance program at The Movement Lifestyle Studio you packed up and headed West for the summer.
It was July and it was hot, the dancers stepping off the bus one at a time took their places in the studio.
Looking around there were so many older kids, you were probably one of the youngest. Calling out names they put you into groups, it appeared to be by age so you made your way across the unfamiliar wooden floor to the tiny gathering of teens in the darkened corner.
Shy introductions were made as one more member was ushered over to where you had congregated. “This is Jeongguk.”
He had the cutest smile and barely spoke english but his eyes twinkled like the constellations. Immediately drawn to each other you became fast friends.
Absolutely exhausted by the end of the first few days he quietly knocked at your door.
He was homesick and lonely, used to being surrounded by his six members, he couldn’t sleep well without someone beside him. You let him crawl into bed with you, you were 14 and it was innocent.
Inseparable, days and nights were spent side by side, the others began referring to you as the twins. It was the best summer of your life but like every boy meets girl summer story, it had to come to a close. Promising through tears to keep in touch and stay friends you went your separate ways.
Jeongguk would send silly videos of his practice sessions, goofing around with the other members. He’d facetime and text but he always loved to send handwritten letters.
They lived in a box under your bed and contained stories of how hard he was working to become an idol. He always signed off with, "I miss you,” and a few lines of lyrics he’d written.
You didn’t know then how important they would become, the only tangible piece of him you could still hold on to.
Whenever he came back to America you did everything you could to see him. You always found a way to get to the small tour stops whenever they came through. 2015 was the first, then KCon in 2016, but 2017, it was different.
Facetiming you with the news that they were bringing the Wings tour to NY, Chicago and Anaheim, he asked if you’d be part of the dance crew. How could you turn down two weeks with Jungkook the hottest new K-pop Idol? They were getting bigger, more popular and their lives were changing rapidly.
He had strict rules, girls were completely off limits. No talking, no hugging, no smiling at one another, any little thing could be easily misconstrued by the fans. Everything had to be done in secret. Jungkook would sneak you into his hotel room where you would spend your nights together catching up. The boys would bring you in food and cover for him while you both stayed locked away out of sight.
While happy to be with him, you could tell there was an underlying sadness he was holding on to.
"I wish I could go and explore the city with you like we used to," his voice trailed off.
You were laying in each other’s arms cuddling on his bed. Leaning over he kissed the top of your head.
"All I really want is to take you on a proper date."
You snuggled closer into his side as he exhaled deeply, releasing his secret.
"I’ve been waiting so long to become someone, a man worthy of your affection. Now I’m stuck. I have everything I wanted and I’m not allowed to share it with you."
His arms gripped you tighter.
"I’m sorry, this is a terrible confession. I don’t expect you to love me back, not under these circumstances, I just need you to know, you’re the only girl I’ve ever loved and there won’t be anybody else, ever."
Every bit of his confession, every moment of that last night in the hotel room had stuck with you to this day. The words of a 19 year old boy whose life had become bigger than the feelings of two people.
He'd left in the morning without knowing. You were a coward, too afraid to tell him you loved him too.
LA became your home right after they left Anaheim. Focused on your dancing, if you became good enough, maybe you could join the tour with him.
A letter with a big bouquet of flowers arrived a few weeks later.
"Congratulations on your new house in LA!
I hope that all of you are getting along as roommates, it’s hard living with others sometimes.
Last night I dreamt that I was there with you and all of our friends. We were having a party on the beach and we sat together watching the sunset.
Do you remember after practice when we would skateboard as fast as we could to the ocean so we wouldn’t miss the colors?
Maybe one day my toes can feel the sand there again.
I miss you, I miss me… the me I am when I get to be with you.
We're coming back in October for a few days and I’m hoping I can see you, I’m lonely already.
Jeongguk
~Won’t you please stay in dreams
I can hear the sea from far away
Across the dream, over the bush
Go there where it becomes clear
Take my hands now
You are the cause of my euphoria
When I’m with you, I’m in utopia~
By the time The AMAs came, the plan had been finalized. You would steal Jungkook away so that you could take him on your first real date.
Having enlisted Namjoon to help, he was your inside man. The boys, happy to help finally get you together, would cover for his whereabouts with management. The day before the awards they were only scheduled for styling, as long as he wasn’t late for the press rounds the next afternoon your plan could work.
It was Namjoon’s job to get him out of the building. Telling him to follow his lead, Joon convinced the managers that Jungkook must have eaten something bad for lunch. Claiming to not feel well, he was whisked away to meet you at the hotel’s back receiving door.
Sitting in the shiny red rented convertible you tossed him a pair of sunglasses. What you wouldn’t give now to see that smile again.
Barely giving him time to get in you’d sped away heading straight for In And Out Burger.
"Kookie, I hope you’re ready for the best day of your life! We’re going to eat until we explode, drink and party at the beach and then, instead of returning you to your fancy 5 star hotel you’re staying the night in my crappy little house with a tiny uncomfortable bed!!"
He laughed, that perfect laugh. It was so pure and honest, thinking about it now made you sad. Was that the last moment he'd gotten to be his true self? Jeongguk the man not Jungkook the personna?
Knowing you only had one day to give him everything, one day to show him you loved him, you tried to make the best of it.
Picking up the food Jungkook held onto the red and white bags in the passenger seat, sneaking his hand in to steal fries when he thought you weren’t looking. If you weren’t sure you were in love with him before you you certainly were now.
Pulling up beside the tree on the beach he was stunned, "Ahhh Jagi, I can’t believe you brought me here."
Happy that it meant as much to him as it did to you, you both sat on the branch and ate. Two blocks from the old studio this used to be your escape. Every break you’d make your way to the tree for some time alone, together.
With the burgers done he turned to you and smiled. It felt like he wanted to say something, but stupidly, you'd cut him short leading him back towards the car.
Making your way through your checklist you brought him back to where you'd first met. The Movement studios students were starstruck when he walked in. After insisting that he teach some choreography, he reluctantly led the class.
Your eyes were glued to him as he moved in front of the mirrors, no longer that awkward teenager but a full grown man mesmerizing you with his every move.
Getting back to the car he stopped you before you reached for the handle. Putting his arms around you he pulled you in close. But again, you resisted him.
"You stink Jungkook, our next stop is the ocean."
You remember pulling away. How stupid you were, you should have held on to him longer. Reaching into the back seat you revealed a pair of swim shorts and a towel. He looked disappointed that you kept interrupting his attempts at intimacy. It broke your heart but you had a plan and limited time to execute it.
The Ocean was chilly but the wind was warm, he came out of the change room with the shorts on but still wearing his shirt.
"Kookie, this isn’t Korea, you don’t have to be so modest here. Plus, you should grab some sun, you may not believe it but when your skin is sunkissed," you grinned, "you look really sexy."
He raised his eyebrows and quickly removed the shirt at your request.
Running into the water you splashed and played and he took great pleasure in picking you up and throwing you as far as he could.
The sun was getting ready to set and you wanted to dry off before the cooler air set in.
Leading him back to the shore you both laid down on the towel. He put his arm around you and you cuddled into his side.
"My god Guk, look at your abs!"
He blushed like crazy as you traced the muscles on his stomach.
"Stop, it tickles," he giggled.
But you didn’t, you kept tickling him until he held you so tight you couldn’t move. He had you pinned, flipping you on your back he shook his wet hair flinging water droplets all over you. Pleased with himself he leaned in closer to you, his eyes asking for permission to kiss you. As the gap between you got narrower you could hear his name being shouted and footsteps running closer. He flopped onto his back and sighed as your roommates and friends piled on top of him.
Eating, drinking and catching up with everyone you watched each other from across the bonfire. Moving from person to person he slowly made his way back to your side.
"Welcome back." Running your hand through the back of his hair, it was now or never.
Pulling him closer your lips finally met in the way they were destined, soft, slow and full of love. His hands instinctively moved to cup your face as the world stopped around you.
"I love you," you whispered.
Nose to nose he smiled at you and it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.
It didn’t last long, his phone started going off incessantly. The managers knew, you’d been careless, photos and videos of him from the studio had been posted online.
"I’m so sorry Jungkook, I didn’t mean for you to get in trouble."
His eyes turned hungry as he grabbed your hand.
"You promised I wouldn’t be going back to my hotel tonight, let’s get out of here."
If he was going to get in trouble anyway, why stop now?
The drive back to your place was quiet, adrenaline and hormones flowing like electricity through you both. The time for smiling was over as the seriousness of the situation lingered in the air between you.
It wasn’t just being in trouble or being caught, but the fact that you both knew what was going to happen when you stepped into your bedroom. One act that would change everything between you, it held the power to change the dynamic of your relationship forever.
Leading him to your room you closed the door and stood staring at him as he sat on your bed. He raked his fingers through his hair before he spoke.
"I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than to be able to make love to you. BUT I also know that when I leave I’m not going to get to see you again for a very long time." His head hung low. "Management is going to do everything possible to keep us apart and that won’t be fair to you. I think that maybe we should just let our happy memories of today be enough, I don’t want you to regret anything. "
Walking closer you stood between his legs and he wrapped his arms around your waist.
"The only thing I'll regret is never getting to experience all of you. I can’t live not knowing how it feels to be totally yours even if it's only for one night."
He rested his head against your chest, "You’ll always be mine."
His hands traveled to the hem of your shirt and his fingers ran over the soft skin of your stomach. Undoing the button of your jeans he slowly slid them down your legs and you stepped out of them.
Standing up he lifted the thin fabric of your shirt over your head and you stood before him waiting as he took his off too. Unclasping your bra he sighed as he looked at you taking in your shape, his fingertips hovering over your hard nipples.
"I’ve never done this before," he confessed.
"Me either," you whispered. "I've only ever wanted it to be you."
More relaxed he let his mouth start exploring your body. You were goosebumps and shivers beneath him as his tongue found it’s home between your legs.
He was soft and careful, placing his lips over your clit sucking it in delicately until your moans couldn’t be contained any longer. You could feel his eyes burning into you as he watched in awe as his finger slid inside you.
"It feels good Kookie, please…"
You could feel his mouth stopping to smile before he picked up speed. Moving your hips to eagerly meet his mouth you were unravelling quickly.
"The way you taste is better than anything I had imagined."
Devouring you in sessions between his words of adoration you came hard on his tongue.
"I'm really regretting running you all over town today when we could have just been here...doing that.. " You were out of breath.
"I was worried that I wouldn't be any good." He grinned at you pleased with himself.
Moving up to where your head lay on the pillow he pushed the dampened hair off your face, "Are you ok? Do you need anything?"
He placed his forehead against yours.
"I just want you. I need you to know I'm yours, forever.
Rolling a condom on he moved slowly to line himself up with your entrance.
"Tell me if you need me to stop okay?"
He pushed carefully, slowly stretching you around him. Watching intently for discomfort he froze when he saw the tears welling in your eyes.
"Shit, I’m so sorry, let’s stop, I didn’t mean to hurt you." He was apologetic as he thumbed away the tears.
"No," you delicately kissed his lips. "I’m okay… I’m just so happy, so overwhelmed with how much I’m feeling right now."
He smiled down at you, pressing his body closer he gave another push until he was fully inside. Your bodies fell into a beautifully choreographed rhythm until Jungkook was so lost in pleasure he began to move at his own pace. Quicker and deeper he moved until he finally spilled into the condom.
Laying together in euphoria you kissed, and kissed, and kissed until you finally found sleep while wrapped around one other.
Every few hours he’d wake you up. His hands running over your body checking to make sure you weren't just a dream. You’d made love each time, everytime better than the last.
It was 9 am when he caressed you awake once more.
"I have to leave soon. I don’t want to." He spoke in whispers nestled into your neck. "Please tell me to stay."
Your heart broke at his words. "If I ask you to stay, I’m selfish, you’ll always wonder if you made the right decision." The tears came, knowing you had to do what was right. "If I tell you to go, your dreams come true… ” your voice trailed off.
"And I’ll always wonder if I made the right decision,” he finished.
Your phone started ringing and you knew time was up.
It was Joon, "I’m outside. Sorry, I held them off as long as I could. I told them that I’d come get him so you could at least have time to say goodbye."
Your tears fell out in heavy ugly sobs, "Okay, five minutes… and Joon… thanks, I know you’re probably in trouble too."
Hanging up you turned back, Jungkook was already out of bed with his clothes thrown on. He stood with open arms bravely waiting.
"Thank you for yesterday I'll never forget it."
Laying your head against his chest you took a moment to listen to his heartbeat. You could hear him sniffle and knew he was crying too.
You flashed back remembering that night long ago when he came to you homesick, holding you so he could sleep while he tried to hide his tears. There was a knock at the door and Namjoon’s voice broke through the moment.
"We’ve got to go Jungkook."
Stepping away you’d left his shirt soaked in tears, handing him his sweater he pushed it back towards you. "You keep it."
He kissed you one last time before opening the door to reveal Namjoon's weary face. His Hyung put his arm around his shoulder and led him to the car.
Turning one last time he looked back, his eyes were filled with tears as he gave a small wave before getting in the back of the big black sedan.
For months you pretended that management was the only thing keeping you apart.
You held on to that silly notion until May when they were coming for the Billboard awards. For weeks leading up you waited for a message, a secret meeting arrangement, but you got nothing. His image was all over the TV and his voice echoed through your empty heart. Then, just like that, it was over and he was gone again.
Now, here you stood in your kitchen, his letter bringing him to the forefront of your mind and opening old wounds.
He was just as sad as you but what could you do?
Picking up a pen you began writing…
I shouldn’t have done it but I read it in your letter
You said to a friend that you wish you were doing better
I wanted to reach out but I never said a thing
You don’t ever have to be stronger than you really are
And honey, you don’t ever have to act cooler than you think you should
You’re brighter than the brightest stars
You’re scared to win, scared to lose
I’ve heard the war was over if you really choose
The one in and around you
You hate the heat, you got the blues
You’re changing like the weather, oh, that’s so like you
I’ll pick you up
I’ll catch you on the flipside
If you come back to California
We’ll do whatever you want, travel wherever, how far
We’ll hit up all the old places
We’ll have a party, we can dance till dawn…
Y/N
October came again and a chill was in the air, the smell of the ocean hit your nose and you stopped to take it in.
Bundled in Jungkook’s hoodie you threw your bag over your shoulder and began your walk to work. You'd gotten lucky, Movement had hired you just as you were about to give up and leave California. Filled with hope and excitement a new intensive program was scheduled to start today and you were going to meet the future superstars of the dance world.
Memories flooded your mind as you made your way through the familiar neighborhood. It still hurt, but things were beginning to feel happy again. Writing the letter had given you closure, he knew how you felt and beyond that there was nothing else you could do.
Opening the heavy door to the studio you caught a familiar reflection moving in the mirror. Chalk marker in hand he was writing something, It couldn’t be?
Hearing the door click back into place he turned to face you.
"Hi."
He walked towards you slowly. Unsure of what your reaction would be, he approached with caution.
"Hi."
You were breathless, in the months of not seeing him he’d only grown more handsome.
"I can’t change what happened… and for the rest of my life I’ll be sorry for all of the time we missed."
He was getting closer.
"But I can’t take another day not knowing if I can fix this… somehow…"
He reached for your hand but you pulled it away. His head fell in disappointment.
"Jungkook, I can’t listen to this… look at me."
Reaching for his chin you pulled his head up until he was facing you again.
"I refuse to listen to you apologize for something that is out of your control. Your life was decided before you met me and I am nothing but grateful that I got to appear in some part of your story."
He tilted his head and pressed a small kiss into the hand that was still holding his chin.
"God I’ve missed you." He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist.
"How long are you here? I’ve got to teach class.. It’s the first day but I’d love it if we could catch up?"
He laughed at you and your knees buckled at the sound of his happiness.
Taking his chance he pressed his lips to yours and you could feel the smile forming on his face.
"I’m your private lesson Jagi, I’ve booked you for the next two weeks."
Taking a step back you had to ask, "How Jungkook? What will you be giving up?"
Pulling you back to his embrace he began to dance with you.
"There is no more giving up, on anything. Our contracts were over and I only had one thing I wouldn’t negotiate on, that’s you."
He guided you to look at the mirror.
"I wrote you something."
~Please call my name one more time
I’m standing under the frozen light,
but I’ll walk step by step towards you
Still with you ~
"I promise I’ll never let you go again."
#jungkook#bts jungkook#jeon jungkook#Jeongguk#jungkook x reader#kookie#nochu#10 years with jungkook#california#lana del rey
59 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
railroad-migraine
another nameless poet
stop-orionsimprini
stop orion simprini.
lourielleee
chami
enbie-tumble
ENBIE-TUMBLE
quentinlauretutu
En vadrouille