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bts-trash-blog · 3 years

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Best Of Us

Chapter 3: Kim Namjoon

Summary: Being an Omega is hard, it could be so lonely. The hardships that you would sometimes feel seemed to much, always expected of things you could never fully reach. Always seen as a piece of meat to some, seen as weak and stupid. So you worked your ass off to finally work your dream job. And the world all changed when you met one of the bosses. And couldn't help but end up falling.

Paring: Rap Line X Fem!Chubby OmegaReader

Warning: A/O/B!VERS, mentions of sexual harassment, heats, ruts, knotting, breeding, angst, possessive behavior, more warnings will be added as needed.

Chapter Edited

PREV._.NEXT

“Mom! Stop squishing my cheeks.” You complain, the night sky was peaking through the kitchen curretens, your wet hair falling around your cheeks as your mother cooed to your face. Her eyes close as she made a kissy face at you, making you let out a gasp pushing her away as you two let out giggles. You were lucky to be able to go home on time, your mom picking you up just as Jin left, a small wave towards you had your mother tensing as she looked at you. You Let her know who he was and her chest released a breath as she then teased you about how handsome he was, though her body tensed again when she took a deep breath in. Explaining further what happened she nodded, though still tense with the Alpha scent swirling around the two of you.

But now you’re showered, one of your fathers collage thin long sleeve t shirts, covers your torso, basketball shorts on your legs she was relaxed. She was in almost matching attire, though she was sporting one of his plain black shirts, one he wore all the time, so soft you could almost feel it without even touching. Her hair in a bun make up still on, though her lips stain was smudged on her chin, a red stain mushing with her foundation only a little. Her mascara rubbed under her eye, she always hold such a soft caring character. Though a beta, her mothering sometimes reassembled ones of Omegas, or so you heard.

“But my pup is just so cute.” You felt your cheeks flush at the nickname she teases you with the nickname, the one Yoongi had used when speaking to you. It was odd, unprofessional though it didn’t come from some type of dominant drive plan, no it came from a soft place one of kindness, foundess maybe. It had your heart pounding. The worst part about it, you knew they could hear it, and that your mother right now could somewhat hear the difference.

“Mom, I’m not a pup anymore.” She rolls her eyes, turning back to the steamer to check if the dumplings were done, smiling at the way the steam lifted in the air. The smell of pork and veggies has you stomach crawling, the sound of it gurgling had her laughter fill the small kitchen of your home.

“You may not be a pup, but you still love your mama's cooking like one.” She giggles as you let out a whine from the teasing, your body moving quickly to the table. As you sat she moves and dished some rice, placing it down as she also placed a couple dumplings sitting in her spot as she placed the steamer in front of you. You hand opening the lid, chopstick grabbing the first, shoveling the hot, chewy ball of dough and meat into your mouth. Making you huff out as you do from the heat. “You are gonna burn your mouth, Y/n.” She scolds, a smile on her face as you frown at her, cheeks stuffed as you swallow.

“Can’t help you’re cooking is just so good. It’s unfair women.” You grumble, taking a mouth full of rice as she smiles at you.

“Just eat.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” As you eat, the soft silence that surrounds you makes you feel safe and at home. Her occasionally placing a veggie on your rice or guiding them into your mouth, pointing, sliding the glass of water towards you made you feel taken care off. It comforted your tired mind, your omega feeling safe. A purr leaving your chest when she stood up and ran her hand through your hair, gently scratching your scalp. Eyes closing as she smiles, happy she can bring you comfort after a most likely stressful day. Knowing she’d have to do it tomorrow, and the day after that, yet it brought her comfort as well. Knowing she can do what you father once did, even in her own way.

“Tried?” She asks, making you nod, she watches as your chewing slows as her fingers massage your scalp, her smile growing as she stops making you start whining at her. “Oh hush, now did these Alphas treat you okay, you just said you split coffee on yourself, nothing else.

“Very.” One worded response had her huffing, rolling her eyes as she bumps your shoulder with her hip as she picks up the now empty steamer, placing it back on the counter.

“I would like a better response, especially since you showed up in my car with one of their tops on.” You blush, eyes opening as you take a gulp of your water hand gripping the glass tightly as you nod slowly.

“Yeah Mr.Jung offered it to me since my shirt was soaking and I just never got the chance to change back into it after it dried, though the coffee stain did make it hard to want to change back.”

“And not his scent?”

“He’s mated, to Mr. Min and their omega.” Your words had her freeze rinsing the dishes, nodding slowly as you let out a soft hum.

“A trio? Huh I think I did read somewhere that they were one, just didn’t look into it.”

“I had no idea, and I felt stupid.” Your mumbled words head her throwing her head back with a laugh making you pout at her.

“Your stupid? You know who you are, right?” Nodding she looked at you, turning to face you hand resting on her hip making you cross your arms over your belly, sweater paw hands. “You are one of the smartest people I know, that I bet that Bambam and Lisa know. So never doubt yourself, “

“It was just a comment.” You mumbled, looking down at your sock covered feet, she tuts as you look up at her.

“Just a comment? Yeah from you, it was not just a comment. You undermine yourself every day, now go brush your teeth and go to bed. Work never waits for you.”

As you exit the elevator, the sound of your heels clicking against the tile, coffee already in hand. Placing the coffee holder on the desk next to an already wide awake Jin, he smiles at you, you walking towards Yoongi's door. As you did you saw a body leave, though Hoseok's shirt that was hanging in the curve of your arm, seeming to catch the man's eye as he let out a growl. Going up to you, making you shrink back. Though the sweet smell of pears mixing with peaches had your head spinning, and your scent or maybe your movements had the man freezing. He shakes it off, hand reaching front he top as he growls at you.

“Why do you have my mates' shirt?” You stan frozen, lips parted as you let out a whimper, Yoongi's door opening as he let out a whistle catching the man's attention.

“Both of you are in here now.” Following his orders with a nod, the two of you walk in though you make sure the Omega, their third, their mate was first inside, waiting for him to move. As Yoongi sees the pitch black Americano in your hand he gives you a smile and takes it, making the Omega male growl. “Namjoon, knock it off.”

“She had Hoseok's shirt.” Namjoon whines, with a stomp making Yoongi roll his eyes, hand slipping to the back of his neck making Namjoon poute drop into a droopy smile. You awkwardly play with the jacket sleeve having decided to wear a hoodie, your fathers hoodie, instead of a blazer though you were in a black button down and black slacks. Still professional, yet you felt more comfortable. Though right now, you felt the opposite of that. You tried to control your scent, though your distress must’ve captured their attention.

“Y/n don’t worry about my little one over here, he’s just possessive after his..uh heat.” You nod slowly, not really in a position to say that you understand. Cause you didn’t. You understood the heat part, but being possessive of someone , no clue. You had no one. So all you could understand was the pain of being alone, the depression that came after a heat. That's all you know.

“That fine..I guess I understand.” You mumble, your hand only tightened around your wrist, Namjoons eyes lingering as you play with your jackets.

“Sure you do, I don’t smell alpha on you. See she co-”

“Namjoon, you have no right to get like this. You agreed to her being our intren. So knock it off.”

“Hyu-”

“I’m just gonna go get to wo-”

“You’re working with me today, sit.” You take a breath in, eyes widening as you look to the chair he gestured at. Slowly moving, eyes staying to the ground, knowing the two mates where glaring at one another, you hear the Omega huff

“Then I’m staying.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” You sat down, just as you watched Namjoon throw himself on an identical couch that was in Hoseok office. In fact the office was pretty much identical though the walls were an off blue grey tone. Your body moved the jacket off, placing it on your lap, wishing your father's scent was still lingering on the fabric. Though very few pieces of fabrics at the home smelt like him, his bedsheets, his mattress, even his pillow. That's pretty much all of it. You left all these objects to your mother. Blinking slowly at the ipad, your ipad sat in front of you on a case, a keyboard connecting as you look to Yoongi.

“So you are gonna go through these complaints on our newest product and find the most common complaints, problems there are.” Nodding you fall into your work mode, hand moving to the keyboard, opening email after email, making a list of every complaint.

Hours passed,your body now almost completely hunched over, eyes dazed as you pull back and let out a yawn. Hand moving to kneaded at the jacket in your lap. Your eyes reading over yet another dramatic complaint over the price of the product, making you huff. Jin had brought you your coffee once he realized you weren’t coming back, it was snow empty resting behind your ipad, Yoongi's cup was next to it. Namjoon had huffed, and puffed for the first hour, scrolling through his phone but now he was on his own laptop, bobbing his head.

You had finally gotten a good look at him. His hair was an ash blonde, though the roots were dark. His eyes were the lightest brown out of the three, rounded cheeks and board shoulders. He wasn’t what useal male omegas looked like, though he did have features like an omega. His hips were widers, and his thighs thick, but you could tell, even under the large black sweater, he was muscular. Just like his mates. He had even dimples, fucking dimples. When Yoongi had called for him, a smile had blinded you when he skipped to the desk, and sat on top of Yoongi's lap. As if to gloat. But the extra, dramatic smile dropped when he saw how happy you looked at the two. A small, welcoming smile falling on his lips as he kissed his mate and got back up moving back to the couch.

That was over an hour ago, you were now feeling sitting for four hours straight catching up to you, the back pain that had only started to happen after the accident, was spiking up your back. The muscles around your spine tense, spassuming making you reach back, eyes closing as you massage at the area. A soft grunt passing your lips making Namjoons eyes snap up, Yoongi's eyes trailing over to you as you tried to adjust yourself in your seat. Failing.

“Everything okay Y/n?” Namjoon asked, headphones sliding down his head, around his neck. You look at him, giving him a slightly painful smile as you nod, then shrug.

“Eh, back is killing me.”

“Period?” He wonders, making you look at him with a head tilt, wondering how a stranger could be so bold. “What I know is female, no matter what sub gender, get them. It is what helps you guys..be..get pregnant. I..sorry if it was too personal.”

“No, just..it wasn’t..just not used to stanger caring.” You mumble eyes drifting back to your emails, silence falling back between the three of you. When you straighten your back, sharp pain makes you stand as you let out a whine. “Fucking hell..sorry.” You whisper, hand falling to your lower back as Yoongi looks at you with wide eyes. Namjoon is already at your side as you look at him, comfort. All you felt was comfort as his hand met your lower back.

“Are you sure it's not your period? I've read that female' omegas hips move up to that age twenty-five. It could be that.” he mumbled making you blush as you shake your head, taking a deep breath. Feeling comfort at his warm hand against your back.

“Yeah it’s not that..I..I got in a really bad car accident my freshman year of college, been messed up ever since.” Your words caused worry to etch on his face as he looked at you then down to the chair you were in.

“No lumbar support probably doesn’t help any damage that was caused, Yoongi what the heck she's worked for you for two days and you already are causing problems for her.” he mumbles, making your eyes wide as Yoongi let out a growl.

“It’s not like I knew about this, if I did I would’ve gotten things to help her. Can you stop touching her.” His words had Namjoon growling, bringing you closer to his side, making you stumble, his hand working the muscle cramp, made you lean into him. “Now, Namjoon.”

“No. Omegas help, and I rather do this then you or Hoseok, or even Jin. “ His words were filled with growls, hand pressing against your back moving you towards the couch.

“Namjoon.”

“Yoongi.” You look to see your boss now pouting, as the Omega had you sit down on the couch, hand moving against you back as Yoongi sighed. Picking up the jacket from the ground making you stand and growl, rushing to grab it as you let out a whine once you realized what you did.

“Sorry..it’s..it was my dads.” You mumble clutching it to your chest. Yoongi's glare fell at your broken words as you took a breath and looked at him. “I think...I think i’m gonna finish going through the emails out there with Jin.” You mumbled, grabbing you things, quickly scurrying out of the room. You had felt so comfortable, way too comfortable in fact. You had growled at Yoongi, had let Namjoon, a stranger touch your back. His scent now lingering around and on you as you exit. The two watching eyes wide, following after you. Worry etched in their eyes, but also confusion filling them.

Both wondering why they wanted you back, wanting you to be wrapped in their arms, dripping in their scents, your scent of freshly baked cookies mixed with chocolate had their mouths watering. It was driving them insane. Wondering why seeing the tears in your eyes hurt them.

Yet when their eyes met, it all made sense.

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stxphxn-strange · 3 years

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(no) rest for the innocent

summary: Tony wasn’t even on trial, but the jury found him guilty and he couldn’t disagree.

a/n: idk last night i was thinking about tony dealing w survivor’s guilt after endgame (and IW) so i threw this together, tw for mention of death and implied thoughts of suicide

“Good evening, Doctor.” FRIDAY’s warm, pleasant voice always reminded Stephen of home and cinnamon scented candles. “How was your trip?”

“Too long for a meeting that could’ve been handled over email. Or through carrier pigeon, as Tony would say,” Stephen replied as his cloak sailed off down the hall.

He washed his hands carefully, drying them on an Iron Man dish towel that Peter had given them as a joke wedding gift before putting the kettle on.

As the water was boiling, he noticed a covered plate on the kitchen counter. There was an obnoxiously orange piece of paper in front of it, which made Stephen smile. Tony always left him little notes on purposefully electrifying paper, that way they were easy to find.

The sorcerer’s smile only widened as he read the note.

Steph—

I wasn’t sure when you’d be back, but I decided to make you dinner anyway. But not because I’m missing you and wanted to surprise you, I just accidentally cooked too much. You know how that happens sometimes and you just end up with an ungodly amount of chicken parm? Life’s funny like that.

Anyway, I’m in the lab. I had some good ideas earlier and I wanted to start them while I still felt productive. Welcome home sweetheart, and if you go to bed before I do (because you probably will, you responsible asshole you), sweet dreams and goodnight.

Love, Tones

PS— Orange you glad you met me? … don’t answer that, I just couldn’t help it and had to write that down.

Stephen rolled his eyes fondly. “Fri, will you tell Tony that even though he’s not funny, I’m very glad I met him?”

FRIDAY was quiet for a few moments before responding. “Boss says, quote, ‘fuck you Gandalf, I’m hilarious,’ unquote.”

Stephen smiled, heating up his meal before sitting down to eat. He flipped through a magazine while he ate, FRIDAY turning on some soft jazz music as background noise until Stephen cleaned up and left the kitchen. After a refreshing shower, the sorcerer found himself in his most comfortable pjs and slippers as he walked through the house. Stephen wasn’t sure if he was going to bed yet, but he wanted to see Tony (and maybe he wanted a kiss or two or even three).

The music in the lab automatically lowered when Stephen shut the door behind him, and Tony looked up with an expression that could only be described as tired.

Actually, he looked exhausted. Weary. Barely holding himself together. Stephen wasn’t a thesaurus, but very concerned about his husband.

Tony was trying to smile, but he seemed too exhausted to do that and just gave up, not saying anything as Stephen sat beside him.

“Hi.” Stephen leaned over and softly kissed his husband’s temple. “Thanks for cooking for me, you didn’t have to.”

Tony shrugged. “I had a lot of energy earlier, and I accidentally cooked way too much. Maybe it was intentional, you know I’d take any excuse to go out of my way for you.”

His words said one thing, but his tone betrayed him. His voice was brittle, hard, and almost staticky. Stephen thought he sounded like a rusted hinge that was trying not to cry out for repairs… or maybe that analogy only made sense given where they were.

Stephen kissed him again as Tony sat back at his desk, closing his well-used sketchbook. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Tired I guess.” Tony sounded as unconvinced as Stephen felt.

“Come to bed with me,” Stephen offered. “I’ll bore you to sleep by telling you about the meeting.”

Tony laughed hollowly. “That bad?”

“I don’t know how to describe it, but it was a waste of time. Even Wong was bored, and he watches the Antiques Roadshow remake for fun,” Stephen replied. He yawned and leaned against Tony’s side.

“I see what you’re doing,” Tony murmured, trying to be lighthearted. He was just feeling some kind of way right now, he felt serious and was so endeared by his husband that it hurt.

“What am I doing?” Stephen asked, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder.

“Being cute and sweet so I’ll go to bed and let you be the big spoon,” Tony accused. “And maybe I just really fucking need a hug, but… it’s working.”

Stephen shifted and pulled Tony into his arms, holding the mechanic close as he went lax.

“My Boss Is Singing Closing Time Protocol please, Fri,” Tony mumbled.

“Goodnight Boss, goodnight Doctor,” the AI replied, beginning to run the lab’s standard closing protocol.

“Portal?” Stephen asked. Tony was getting better with going through portals, but some days were harder than others. Stephen didn’t know what tonight would be like and opted to ask, selfishly wanting to make sure Tony got some rest as soon as possible.

He was so out of it by that point that Stephen wasn’t sure if Tony registered the question, but he nodded slowly and trusted Stephen to lead him through it and into their bed.

Despite “resembling a sloth clinging to a tree bough,” (Tony’s words) Stephen was intuitive and knew when not to hug Tony. Even when he was asleep, if Tony woke up thrashing or fighting against something in a dream, Stephen let him go.

Tonight was a bit different. Stephen wasn’t brought to the edge of reality by Tony thrashing in their bed or accidentally tangling himself in their sheets, so he assumed everything was fine. That was until the sorcerer hugged his husband closer, still mostly asleep and just following his instinct, and Tony outright begged Stephen to let go of him. He wasn’t quite awake, but Stephen backed off immediately and heard Tony trip over his own feet as he left the room. The sorcerer fell asleep again after that, trying to stop the sound of Tony’s broken plea from cementing itself in his memory. When Tony climbed back into bed some time later, Stephen was stirring a little bit more. Tony hid his face in Stephen’s collarbone and said nothing, his breathing still slightly erratic.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” he mumbled.

“Don’ be,” Stephen replied, his voice unsure whether or not to wake up.

“Will you hold me again?” Tony asked pleadingly, his voice almost imperceptible.

Stephen wordlessly obliged, kissing the top of his head. “Whatever’s bothering you… you can talk to me about it. When you’re ready. And you don’t have to, but I’m here for you.”

Tony nodded. “It feels like too much right now. What I’m thinking about, I mean. I need time to process, I guess.”

“Okay,” Stephen said simply. “But I’m here for you whenever.”

“I know. I love you,” Tony replied.

Stephen began to trace soothing patterns on Tony’s back. “Love you Tones.”

++++

Tony didn’t seem any more rested the next day, but his confident Tony Stark™ pose seemed natural. He’d easily be able to fool people who didn’t know him as well as his family did. So it was a “fake it until you make it” kind of day, and Tony’s energy was on a strict schedule. There was only so much he could take today, and if his teammates wanted to call him selfish then that was their choice.

It would just go in one ear and out the other, especially this late in the day and after brutal team training. Tony was close to skipping the meeting, but a cutting remark in the hallway made him change his mind. Why did they always act like it was breaking news when Tony needed to step back from something anyway? He was just as human as anyone else, and the world was happy to throw responsibilities on his unenhanced, steady shoulders just because he was a natural caretaker.

The arguments about Tony’s quiet, withdrawn demeanor started two minutes into the meeting. Stephen was ready to defend his husband as soon as they got to the conference room, Tony collapsing into a chair and leaning his head against the cool metal of the table.

He didn’t want to talk today, and Stephen didn’t want him to.

“It’s not nap time, Stark.” There was a small hint of fondness in Natasha’s cold, clipped voice.

Tony was already regretting his decision to show up, wishing he hadn’t told Stephen again and again that he was fine. He wasn’t, and they both knew it. Everyone knew it, but Tony knew better than to advocate for himself in front of his… colleagues.

“I don’t even remember what we’re meeting about,” Tony muttered, looking up enough to address whoever was talking to him.

Rhodey took a seat beside Tony, encouragingly patting his back. “You good?”

“I’m fine, Honeybear,” Tony replied. He was sitting between his two favorite people, and that helped him feel a little more grounded. “I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

Someone scoffed. “I don’t think anyone’s slept right in months. And don’t say you haven’t slept in years, Stark. We don’t need a story about how everything you’ve ever done has led to years of sleepless nights. We know already. Put it in a book or something and make the team more money so I can have better arrows.”

Stephen was two seconds away from dropping the archer into the Dark Dimension, or flipping a table. He wasn’t sure how to handle the man yet, still taken aback by the rudeness and stupidity of his comment. “Barton, what the fuck—”

“Steph, don’t bother with him,” Tony said. He stood up, forcing his tiredness into a corner and giving his coworkers a confident glare. “Pardon me for giving it my all and being a bit tired as a result. Now I’m going to get an ice pack for my shoulder and maybe a cup of coffee. Does anyone want anything?”

“I’ll take a—”

“Get it yourself, you know where the kitchen is.”

For dramatic effect (and moral support), the cloak landed on Tony’s shoulders and billowed out as he left the room. He returned with the aforementioned ice and coffee, and a mug of tea for Stephen.

“You didn’t have to do that sweetheart, but thank you,” Stephen said appreciatively.

“That’s why I wanted to,” Tony replied. He relaxed a little into his chair, starting to believe he could get through the meeting.

Then, like clockwork, Clint opened his mouth to complain.

“Why did you bring him tea and nothing for the rest of us?” He whined.

“Doesn’t Tony do enough for you?” Stephen asked, innocently taking a sip of his tea. It was his afternoon green tea, made exactly the way he liked it.

Tony was always so sweet and attentive with his loved ones, it warmed Stephen’s heart. The sorcerer stifled a laugh as Rhodey poured half of Tony’s coffee into his own empty mug.

“Thank you,” the colonel said impishly. “Consider the roommate tax paid for this month.”

Tony tried to smile at the old inside joke, but Stephen noticed that it fell flat.

“Are we done with the interruptions? We need to talk about what’s out there. We don’t know if Thanos is the exception or the rule, and—”

Tony stopped listening. Clint’s snootiness was doing his head in, but the idea of another threat, another thing, another colossus he’d have to conquer and survive if his luck had anything to say about it… that was the breaking point.

Tony didn’t have a good relationship with luck. He didn’t really believe in it, but apparently it believed in him. Because Tony was lucky. It was true that he was lucky in meeting his husband, his friends, and his family, but this was a different kind of luck. Tony was intelligent and skilled, shrewd and savvy, and there was virtually nothing he couldn’t do or solve, except for one thing.

He was constantly lucky, constantly cheating death.

And he didn’t realize that he was hyperventilating, didn’t recall dropping his head into his hands. He didn’t recall that he’d just walked out in the middle of the meeting after a minute, didn’t realize that he was home when he opened his eyes.

Tony was home, in his spot on the couch in Stephen’s library. Stephen was sitting beside him, quietly watching a documentary or something like that. Tony was laying down, his head in Stephen’s lap with the cloak draped over him like a blanket. The crimson fabric continued to cling to him as he sat up, further proving Tony’s point that Levi liked him best, but he wasn’t in the mood to banter now. He just appreciated the support and the warmth of his sorcerer and their shared, sentient blanket.

With some hesitancy, Tony leaned over and rested his head on Stephen’s shoulder. They locked eyes for a minute, Tony’s gaze deliriously bright and vacant.

Stephen didn’t know what to say or do to make the man trembling in his arms feel better, but started by hugging him closer and softly stroking up and down his spine.

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered, lowering his head and hiding against Stephen’s chest.

“No apologies,” Stephen reminded him. “I don’t want or need them, and you don’t have to explain yourself.”

“I have to give a good reason,” Tony said, his voice beginning to shake. “Everything I do needs a reason.”

“Why? Says who?” Stephen asked. He was more thinking aloud, half expecting Tony to leave the question unanswered.

For a while, he did. He just sat, furiously trying to blink back tears and gather his thoughts as Stephen held him protectively.

“Sometimes I think about… things,” Tony began vaguely. “And people. And places. I guess I just like nouns.”

At this point, he didn’t even know if he was trying to deflect or just tell a joke, but his attempt at humor fell flat. He tried to force a laugh, but halfway through it turned into a painful sob. He cried harder with each breath, ignoring the ache in his chest. Tony barely listened when Stephen encouraged him to breathe, but eventually he gave into his exhaustion and listened to his lungs.

His stupid lungs, which apparently were just as stubborn as his brain.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Tony whispered. “I shouldn’t have survived Afghanistan, New York, Sokovia, Siberia, or Titan. I can’t keep cheating death, Stephen. I don’t want to. I don’t want to be lucky and survive when the damage I’ve caused, the damage I claim full responsibility for, has taken so many lives. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt or killed for me.”

Stephen pressed a soft kiss to his hair, feeling Tony’s guit and fatigue as if it was his own.

“I don’t want to do this,” Tony repeated. “I’m probably just spiraling or being needlessly selfish, but I… I don’t know.”

“You’re taking on too much responsibility where you don’t need to,” Stephen said. “I know that’s easy for me to just say from the outside, but you aren’t the only Avenger. It’s about time the team, if you can even call them that, takes accountability for their actions and stops bulldozing you with their problems. You aren’t selfish, Tones. You’re tired and overworked, and you deserve a break. You deserve to breathe, to just exist without feeling like you have to look over your shoulder or justify your every step.”

“I don’t think I know how to even do that anymore,” Tony replied. “And I don’t deserve it.”

“You do,” Stephen argued. “And rest assured I’ll keep telling you that. And I’ll keep telling you how much I love you, because I really do.”

Tony smiled sadly, trying to press himself closer to Stephen if that was even possible. “I love you too.”

He was starting to settle down, soothed by a flurry of soft kisses in his hair and the gentle brushes up and down his spine, when FRIDAY quietly spoke up. She almost sounded remorseful.

“Mister Parker is requesting one or both of you in the lab, whenever it’s convenient,” she began. “And he’s asked me to assure you that it’s nothing major.”

Tony sighed, sitting up again. “I’ll investigate.”

Stephen shook his head. “No, let me. I’ll tell Peter that you’re resting, and he’ll understand.”

“I don’t want him to think I don’t care,” Tony whispered.

“He would never think that. You know how he gets about making sure you take care of yourself, and Peter knows with certainty that you care about him. Our son is much more mature than the Avengers,” Stephen replied.

“I still feel bad,” Tony said.

“I know. I can promise him Thai food if that’ll make you feel better?” Stephen suggested, half jokingly.

“It actually would,” Tony admitted. “FRIDAY, will you schedule a Thai food delivery for 6:30pm please?”

“Scheduled,” she replied simpy. She still sounded apologetic for disturbing them right as Tony was falling asleep, but maybe Stephen imagined that.

The sorcerer stood up gracefully, covering Tony with another blanket as the cloak wrapped a bit tighter around him. “Look after yourself and relax, or get some sleep. No one’s expecting anything from you right now Tones, alright? I love you.”

Tony nodded, a little smile on his face as Stephen kissed him again. “Love you.”

He really wanted to sleep. He actually put effort into falling asleep, which was something he never thought he’d do, and of course sleep didn’t come easily. Sleep never came easily, but the memories did. It was all too easy for Tony to get caught in a thought stream, whether he was planning a surprise, inventing, or remembering unpleasantries. Today he was overwhelmed by guilt, readily convincing himself that he was a selfish failure like Howard Stark and his teammates liked to say. It was too easy to get lost in their ire and wanting to please everyone, and Tony had given up so much of his agency just to try and make other people happy.

It was exhausting, and he didn’t even feel like he’d succeeded at that.

The mechanic started tearing up again as he continued to think in a circular pattern, faintly aware of the Cloak trying to comfort him. It was a sweet, welcome gesture, and Tony let it happen and let himself cry. He was still laying there in tears when Stephen came back in half an hour later.

“Pete says he hopes you feel better,” Stephen said, returning to his spot and pulling Tony close. “And I told him to just go ahead and eat whenever he’s hungry, or when the food gets here.”

Tony just nodded, feeling relieved and supported in Stephen’s arms again. He nodded again, as if trying to shake the unending self-deprecating thoughts from his head, before saying anything. “Sounds good.”

tags: @salty-ironstrange-shipper @stark-strange-love2 @chocopiggy @katninjagirl97 @kitkatfat15 @taruyison @funkylittlebidiot

#tony stark #stephen strange #ironstrange #not endgame compliant #non infinity war compliant #peter parker #ironstrange and spiderson #not avengers friendly lowkey #not clint barton friendly #james rhodey rhodes #tw mention of character death #tw death mention #tw sui mention

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ddaenggtan · 4 years

Text

Half-Baked Holiday | ksj | M

Granny Park’s Gossip:

That Seokjin, don’t get me started on him. He’s worked hard to open and run that bakery of his, you know, and I’m so proud that it’s so successful now. Wish he would find a nice person to settle down with, though, he deserves it, as long as he’s been on his own. Well, I guess you can’t really call it alone when he’s got that grump of a best friend always hanging around him. He really should be paying her, what with all the time she spends at the bakery with him. She’s always waking up on the wrong side of the bed, but she’s not so bad when she brings me some of those cookies of his, or just around Seokjin in general, if I’m honest. Too distracted by staring at that pretty face of his, I suppose, though who can blame her?

pairing } seokjin x reader

word count } 12.6K { also on ao3

genre } friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, bakery au, fluff, smut, literally the slightest bit of angst

warnings } fluff, fluff, fluff; jin is an idiot and so is the MC, like they’re genuinely both dumbasses but in different ways; pining; misunderstandings; masturbation, spanking, unprotected sex, oral sex - male receiving, exhibitionism a little, rolling pins are used in ways they are not intended to be used; several mentions of jins squeaky laugh and also his red ears bc they’re my favorite things in the world

{ The Snowball Effect Series Masterlist }

a/n } whaddup i finally finished this thing barely on time so yEET i yet again maintain my status as queen of last minute deadlines!!!! HBH is my Baby, I love it, it’s my perfect shiny garbage baby, and if you like it, you should DEF check out the others!! They can be read as standalones, but it’s really really really really really really highly recommended that you read them all in order, as they all end up in the same place and there are a ton of little easter eggs and references and shoutouts woven into the entire series!!! Extra special shoutout to the authors of all the other stories, @fortunexkookie (ryn), @taehyungforreal (ashley), @stutterfly (kristi, who also made the incredible banners!!!)

You're a good person. You pride yourself on being kind and giving. Every year you make donations to several charities. You help organize summer fundraisers so kids can eat. You buy the most ethically-sourced groceries possible. You leave your change in case someone else can use it. You always tip at least 20% when you go out to eat. Out of everything, though, of all the good deeds you try to do in your life, there's one thing that makes you a truly outstanding human being.

You don't lose your fucking mind every time the urge hits you.

"But how many calories are in the Holiday Donut?" The lady in front of you asks. You can feel your eye twitching and even the young guy behind the register is starting to falter in his bright grin.

"Um, I'm not-"

"Look lady," You cut in. "You have heard about nearly every thing on the fucking menu. It's a donut, stuffed with strawberry creme and coated in colored frosting and sprinkles. How many calories do you think are in it? Just order the banana nut muffin like you always do, get your coffee, and leave, so the rest of us aren't stuck in a line for another hour."

The lady looks scandalized as she turns to glare at you, but all it takes is a single cocked eyebrow to send her huffing out the door. She mutters a few choice words under her breath as she goes, but you pay them no mind.

"Your usual is almost ready, Pumpkin." You level Jin with an unamused glare as he pushes his way through the kitchen doors with a steaming tray of scones in hand.

"You know I hate that name, Spice," You remind him dryly.

"You know I hate it when you run my customers off with that dark cloud you call a personality, and yet here we both are," he responds. He just smiles at your eyeroll and you do your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. Instead you make yourself comfortable on one of the barstools at the counter.

Seokjin's bakery is as busy as it ever is; several of the tables are taken, either by students on their nth espresso or families doing holiday shopping or people just looking for a place to relax amidst the bustle of the streets. There's someone perched on the stool at the opposite end, close to the register, but you pay them no mind. You're too focused on the mug Jin slides in front of you - green and chipped on the handle, it's your favorite - and the steam wafting up from the cocoa inside. There's a thick layer of marshmallow on the top and a candy cane sticking out, just like you like it, and a Holiday Bagel on a small plate next to it.

"Thanks. You're still an ass, though." He has the decency to look offended at your words, and you grit your teeth against the smile that threatens to split your face. He always looks so cute when he's huffy.

"One of these days I'm going to make you start paying for your food like everyone else, and then you'll start treating me right."

"Sure," You agree in a monotone as you pull your phone out and start tapping away on it. "That'll be the same day that you stop asking me to do your books for you because you can't be bothered."

The sigh that expels itself from his lungs is almost as dramatic as the play he dragged you to the week before.

"I am perfectly capable of doing my books myself, thank you. I let you do it to keep you busy."

"Mhm, sure, I believe that," You tell him. He scoffs again and you barely register the hand he shoots forward to steal your bagel before you're slapping it away. "You don't even like strawberries and kiwi, Seokjin, and you will lose a hand."

You don't look up from the emails you're sorting through on your phone, but you don't have to in order to know that he's got both elbows braced on either side of you. You've known him long enough to know that this is his Pout Stance, and you dare not look up because there's no denying him when he looks like that.

"You're so mean to me, Pumpkin. All I do is spoil you with good food and perfect company," he whines, "And what do I get for it? Insults and mockery. You could at least give me a kiss every now and then."

You choke on your cocoa. It burns your nose as it starts to come up that way, and the dark liquid dances across your phone screen as it molds to every crack and crevice.

"Goddamn it, Seokjin," You sputter. He's already holding a cloth out to you, apology written on his face even as you glare at him. You pat your phone dry as best you can before resigning yourself to the fact that it's just going to smell like warm chocolate and peppermint until the next time your best friend flusters you.

"To be fair, I didn't expect you to be so opposed to the idea," Seokjin mutters. He continues under his breath as you wave off his attempt to help again, something about him being handsome enough, but you aren't listening. Because that's the only real problem between the two of you.

You aren't opposed to the idea. It's all you can think about most days; in work meetings, while you're doing paperwork, in team briefings, while you watch TV, when you're asleep. What his pillow lips would feel like against your own occupies nearly every waking thought you have. The others are torn between fantasies of what being his would be like and memories of him in general, neither of which you're lacking in.

You've known Seokjin for years. You don't even know how long since you insist you met when you were twelve and Jin is just as insistent that you met when you were nine. All you remember is being alone on the side of a playground playing hopscotch by yourself and then giggling at something the nice boy had said and then the two of you were inseparable. You aren't even sure how long you've felt like this towards him. It could've been high school, when he was one of the most sought after boys in school and yet still made time to comfort you every time a boy rejected you. Maybe it was college, though, when he was further away than he'd ever been and yet always answered your calls and responded to your texts and you'd cancel dates because he had randomly driven up to see you. Maybe it was after, watching him run his own bakery and do what he loves every day with the brightest grin you've ever seen on his face.

You can't be sure. All you know is one day you were washing dishes in the back after being his guinea pig for some new creation, and he told some dumb joke, and when you turned around to mock his squeaky laugh like usual, you couldn't. Because he had flour on his cheek and chocolate on his lip and you'd never wanted to kiss someone so bad in your life.

And then it just devolved from there and now the butterflies in your stomach have just set up camp. It's been too long, but you can't risk your friendship with him over some stupid crush. He means too much to you.

Your eyes don't leave his back as he disappears back into the kitchen, still complaining about something under his breath, and you suppress a sigh.

Shopping is the worst. You aren't really sure why you're here, because you hate shopping and you hate crowds and you especially hate holiday shopping because it's like Satan himself smashed the two together. You get all your gifts online or early in the year, you don't go anywhere near a mall from October to March, and it works for you. You don't have to deal with holiday crowds. Ever. So why are you on hour five at the largest mall in driving distance with no breakfast, sore feet, and full bags hanging from every possible place they can?

"Does that really seem like something Taehyung would like, though? I got that jacket for him already, I know, but this seems so much more fitting. What do you think, Pumpkin?"

Oh. Right. Seokjin had showed up at Too Damn Early For A Saturday O'Clock and demanded you accompany him for his holiday shopping.

"I think that if I don't eat something in the next ten minutes, I'm ripping your head off and eating that instead. And for dessert I'll demolish those fancy chocolates you got for Jimin." A passing mother gives you a horrified glance as she ushers her toddler along and you almost wish you gave a shit. It's the mall, she can't control what other people say in this hellhole. You probably could’ve done without the emphasis on Jimin, though; Jin knows how much you worship those chocolates, you’ve said countless times that they’re better than orgasms, and still, he got some for Jimin and not you.

You aren’t bitter. Or petty. No. You’re an adult, and you’re not going to pout just because your crush got your mutual friends some sweets instead of you.

"If you touch those chocolates, you're going to march your ass right back to that store and replace them while I return all your gifts," Seokjin quips back. You glance over at him and wrinkle your nose at the two berets he has in each hand.

"What the fuck are you doing, Spice?"

“Wondering when you’re going to listen when I talk to you,” He responds. He holds both of the berets up for you to view more clearly. “Now, which of these is more ‘Tae’ to you?” He doesn’t react to the blank glare you give him, long since immune to your powers of pessimism, and instead just wiggles the berets in each hand so you actually look at them.

Neither are to your personal taste; one is diamond-encrusted in some kind of quilted pattern, with some kind of alternating animal print as well. The other is more understated, if you can call it that, with a faux-fur trim, a feathered poof in the center, and a truly obscene pink houndstooth pattern to it. You can’t help the wrinkled nose that the two options cause in you, and you ignore Seokjin’s huff of irritation in favor of looking past him to the rest of the options. You only have to look for a minute to find something better suited, which mostly means Jin wanted to give Tae something truly gaudy on purpose.

“Here,” You say, stuffing the hat into his hands. He stops mid-rant - something about how you should be helping him more, though you aren’t sure why because he’s the one that dragged you here and is lucky you haven’t bailed yet - and focuses on what you’ve just given him. It’s not a pretty beret, by any means, and is by far the cheapest one there, but it’s got some kind of artful splatter across it in greyscale tones, with a pop of red around the rim to accent it. Seokjin just stares at it for a second before turning his gaze on you, and you shift uncomfortably.

“What?” You eventually ask.

“Nothing,” He says airily. “Just surprised.”

“At what?”

“You paying attention to people and being able to buy good gifts.” He puts the other two back into place and heads towards the registers, ignoring your indignant squawk.

“I get you perfect gifts every year!” You don’t miss his eyeroll, and it makes you want to strangle him a little.

“I don’t count,” He tells you as he settles in behind some grandmother buying entirely too many things that have to be for her grandkid. “You know me better than anyone, and you have access to my Amazon wishlist.”

“Yeah, except none of that is on your fucking wishlist,” You mutter. He turns, eyebrow arched and ready to get more backtalk, but you just make a face at him.

He drags you to five more stores after that and abandons you in the middle of Williams Sonoma. You’re on your third lap of the store, ready to disassemble the fancy grill they’ve got on display to see if he’s somehow in there, when he appears, probably from the ether or some shit. You’re still trying to figure out how he managed to phase through time and space and the massive shelf of Martha Stewart Collection Cookware without you noticing, and in the meantime he takes the massive amount of bags from your hands and deposits something in your palms instead.

It takes you a minute to register the warmth, but the smell hits instantly and makes your stomach grumble loudly. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so fucking hungry.

“Eat,” Seokjin commands. “We’ve got more shopping to do for the bakery.”

You can’t even argue because your mouth is stuffed full of pizza pretzel bites - the only real reason to come to the mall, in your opinion. You’ve inhaled one serving in record time, and Jin doesn’t even react when you bust into the second one in the middle of some tech store. Instead, he just holds out a hand and waits for you to plop a pretzel bite in his palm.

It’s hours later, long after you’ve helped Seokjin drop off all the bakery supplies at the shop and carted the presents up to his apartment, that you realize you’re still holding on to the bag from the pretzel place. You’re about to toss it into your garbage when it registers that there’s too much weight for just garbage; curious, you open the bag up and dump the content onto your kitchen counter.

Inside is a small box of chocolates, the same kind you’d threatened to eat earlier in the day, your favorite flavor and everything, with a small note atop it.

These were supposed to be part of your gift, but you looked put out when you thought I wasn’t getting you any. Thanks for today. xxSpice

You resist the urge to smile; it’s only right that he give you sweets after the frankly absurd amount of time he’d made you spend at the mall. Still, you can’t deny your lip twitches along with your heart at the knowledge that he’d been planning on including them in your gift.

And you might tuck the note away behind a postcard on your fridge, but you’re never going to admit to that.

The next day when you get to the bakery, Seokjin doesn't hesitate to shove you into his small office and push you into his desk chair before he disappears back into the kitchen. The usually cluttered space is empty, devoid of the usual invoices and order forms and whatever the fuck else your best friend keeps on his desk. Even the picture frames have been moved, placed haphazardly atop a filing cabinet. Something flutters in your chest when you notice the one directly facing his chair is one of the two of you.

Taken years and years ago, back when you were first moving into your college dorm, when you were both tired from carrying boxes up the seven flights of stairs to your room. You still remember how irritated you had been when Jin's parents insisted they get a picture of the two of you in your matching university hoodies. You don't remember what it was, but you remember Seokjin cracked some dumb joke or said something ridiculous. He must have, because in the picture, you're looking at him with a softness in your face that isn't present any other time.

Seokjin reappears with a steaming mug and a hand behind his back. The familiar scent of warm chocolate and peppermint hits you, followed closely by the warm-butter sharp-mint honey-glaze smell that you remember taste-testing for him so many times that you're almost positive it’s going to linger on your gravestone.

"That's mistledough." You narrow your eyes, and he rolls his own. His hand pulls out from behind his back to reveal the treat he'd concocted in college and perfected not long after. Shaped like a sprig of mistletoe and a warm honey brown color, the mistledough is easily the best selling product that Seokjin has.

And it's only on sale from Black Friday to the first day of January.

You don't even know what's in it. He's never told you, hasn't let you watch him make it; he'd just show up randomly and shove a weird-shaped treat under your nose and tell you to eat it. And of course you did, because you've been whipped for him since the first day he made you smile on that playground.

It's not important, really. What's important is that he's brought you cocoa and mistledough, which means he's bribing you for something important.

"No," You tell him.

"Please," He pouts. "You don't even know what it is yet." You huff and look anywhere else. His pout is dangerous for you and you know it, and you refuse to be bought for some cocoa and bread.

In an attempt to avoid the puppy dog eyes he no doubt is wearing, your eyes flit around the room. They eventually settle on the mass of shopping bags to your right. You turn, seeing the collection of various wrapping papers on the left and the collection of tape beside them.

"No," You repeat, turning your glare on him. "Wrap your own damn presents, Spice, I'm not doing it for you this year."

"But you do it so much better than I do!" He steps forward, setting his bribes in front of you so the scent wafts towards you that much more. "Your corners are always perfect, Pumpkin, and the edges are so well matched, and you get the pattern to line up perfectly, and-"

"No, Jin," You tell him, already standing. "I told you last year that it was the last time I'd be doing it for you, and that was only because you left it to the day before - again - and had to be in the bakery. I already wrapped all my presents, I'm not doing yours too."

He doesn't even say anything. He just widens his eyes a little and looks down at the scuffed tile floor, kicking his shoe dejectedly against the foot of the desk. There's utter silence in the room, only broken by the muffled chatter of customers and the beep of one of the ovens every few minutes.

You last for a solid ten minutes. You know because the smell of more mistledough fills the air, and you know Seokjin wouldn't try to bribe you with anything that wasn't the freshest batch.

"Why can't you do it?" You grumble, already sitting back down and picking through the wrapping paper.

"I've got like a hundred orders to fill today. That's not even really an exaggeration, either. Soobin's been on cake duty all day so that I can get to work on the mistledough orders and still have time to finish Tae's cake before we leave." You sigh and turn to look at him.

He looks stressed; that's not unusual for this time of year, but it still makes your chest clench. You want to pull him close, run your hands along the furrow between his brows until it's smooth again. Smother him with kisses until he's giggling and happy and remembers that he's a badass culinary god and that he can handle this and that you love him.

"I wish you would tell people no sometimes," You say instead. You slide one of the biodegradable rolls onto the desk and start looking through the drawers for the massive ruler you know is tucked away somewhere. "You can't fill every order. Let people pine for their fancy bread, they don't deserve it anyway."

"You know I can't do that, Pumpkin," He says, breaking off a piece of your bribe and leaning against the tattered desk. "We only just got to where we're steadily in the black, and the seasonal stuff brings in a lot of money. I've got to milk that for as much as I can."

"Yes, because you being overworked and stressed like this is a much better alternative. I'm pretty sure your eyebags have eyebags." You wait for the dramatic gasp, but it doesn't come.

Instead when you look up at him from where you're digging through presents, he's staring at the picture of the two of you. Whatever he's seeing is beyond that, though, invisible to anyone but himself. It's not rare that he gets introspective and quiet; it's actually fairly common when it's just the two of you. You don't know why. You don't want to know why. You just take the moments when they come and wait for him to say whatever he's going to say.

"You're my best friend," is what he eventually says. Your hand stutters where it's slicing paper, mimicking the pang of heartbreak that shoots through your veins. You love being his best friend.

You just wish you were more than that.

"Yeah," You say offhandedly, "No one else wanted the gig, so I guess I'm stuck here." You can feel his eyeroll, but he pats your shoulder as he heads back into the kitchen. When he reappears a while later with fresh cocoa and a bagel, you pretend to be mad that he steals a bite of it until he laughs at your grumbling.

When you leave his smile feels lighter, and you tell yourself you're imagining his eyes lingering on your back as you go.

You’re gonna kill him. You really are. You’re going to absolutely skin him alive, you don’t give a fuck how cute his face is or how hard he makes your heart beat. There’s not a single fucking thing he could say or do that would make up for this.

Maybe if you hadn’t been out here waiting for nearly twenty minutes. Maybe if your phone showed that he had even opened the last six texts you had sent him. Maybe if it wasn’t Seokjin who insisted on leaving at like ten in the morning to being with, even though you had plenty of time to get there because you didn’t even need to run by the bakery because he’d already put Soobin and Yeonjun through what probably counted as actual military training in order to prepare them for today. Frankly, it’s a miracle Seokjin is even leaving them on their own today, considering how hectic it gets. You’re entirely sure that it’s only because Soobin has worked there since the bakery opened and Yeonjun joined not long after so they both know the ropes as well as they possibly can. And because Seokjin was likely up until an ungodly hour preparing and baking an enormous amount of mistledough for today.

In fact, he’s probably still passed out up there, you decide as you climb out of your truck and head into your best friend’s apartment building. You’re cursing under your breath the entire way, paying no mind to the scandalized elderly gentleman that shoots you a Look. You really are gonna kill him, you decide as you shove the key he made you into the lock and jiggle the handle slightly so it’ll actually turn. You’re going to drag him out of his stupidly comfortable bed and probably try to shove him down the garbage disposal or something. His shoulders may present a challenge, but you are up for it.

Your mind is so made up that you don’t even register the bags he’s got ready by the door, or the coolers full of groceries that are packed and ready beside them. You just sidestep it all entirely and head down the hall. You don’t even register the faint sounds, muffled by the door to his room, and by the time it all finally reaches your brain, it’s too late. You’ve already thrown the door open as wide as it will go, which means you get a perfect, unobstructed view, even as Seokjin startles and yelps.

Because of course - of course - he isn’t sleeping or showering or packing. No, instead he’s got his fist wrapped around his cock and is thrusting shallowly into the warmth of his palm. The universe loves to torment you entirely too much, clearly. Why else would it offer you such an unhindered look at the love of your life’s dick?

It’s a nice dick, too. Long and the perfect thickness, a pretty dusky pink head. You can’t lie and say you’ve never imagined what Seokjin’s dick looks like - you basically grew up with him and the others, and young boys talk about their dicks. A lot. Plus, you’ve had a crush on him for several years now.

You just never could have imagined that it’s so absolutely gorgeous that you can feel your mouth water. It’s impossible to tear your eyes away from it, in fact, until Seokjin gets over his initial shock and shoves his blanket over his lap.

“What, uh,” He starts, throat rough. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh...you asked me to pick you up, remember? Because your car doesn’t have four wheel drive like the truck.” You learned a long time ago how to avoid being embarrassed around Seokjin, but even that can’t stop the burn in your cheeks as you force yourself to make eye contact with your best friend. It’s a struggle to focus on anything that isn’t the planes of his naked chest, broad and tanned despite the winter weather, but you manage.

Barely.

“Right, yeah, but...uh, weren’t you supposed to call? And aren’t you early?” The tips of his ears are as red as your face feels. The contrast between the current situation and his obvious shyness is so endearingly distracting, it takes you a full minute to focus back in on what he’s saying. “--at this point, I mean, I know that we apparently aren’t there yet, but really, I don’t mind-”

“Wait,” You interrupt, “I’m still stuck on how I called you four times, both before I left and en route and once I got here, waited another ten minutes since I got here early because I know you like to be early, and yet somehow this is my fault.”

“Well...you should have knocked! Why wouldn’t you knock when coming into someone else’s apartment or bedroom?”

“Why didn’t you hear me coming? The floor in your hallway is a million years old, it squeaks constantly, how did you miss that?”

“Well, I was a little preoccupied.”

“Clearly.”

“You still should have knocked.”

“Why did you give me a key if you wanted me to knock? And when have you ever knocked on my door when you show up randomly? Besides, I figured you were asleep and didn’t want to wake you up while I took all your shit out to the truck.” His face softens a little, and a shy smile teases at his lips.

“Thanks, Pumpkin,” he says quietly. Your stomach flips violently at the look on his face and you roll your eyes at it.

“Yeah, whatever.” You pick up the clothes he already has laid out and throw them at his chest. “Get dressed, you’re buying me breakfast on the way to the cabin.”

He doesn’t protest as you leave him and gather his bags up, balancing them atop the coolers of groceries and snacks he’s no doubt made for everyone. It only takes a little finagling, but you manage to get it all downstairs and into the backseat of your truck. Fat white flakes are falling from the grey sky by the time you’re finished, and Seokjin’s nose and ears are still pink when he eventually gets in as well. You turn the heat up, just in case it’s not residual embarrassment heating his face.

He doesn’t even say anything except a muffled thanks. After a few minutes, you’ve almost resigned yourself to an awkwardly silent car ride.��

“So…” Seokjin eventually says in a too-casual tone. “About earlier-”

“No,” You hiss before he can continue. “No we are absolutely not talking about what happened.”

“Oh, come on,” He implores as you turn into the first drive-through you can find. “It was bound to happen eventually, considering-”

“We really don’t need to talk about it,” you insist.

“I’m just saying that I know you aren’t really one for...y’know, sexual activity,” He ignores your open-mouthed gape and continues, “But I have my own needs, and self-satisfaction is the best balance between the two that I’ve found. That said, I’m sorry you had to see it, I know it probably made you uncomfortable. Because. Y’know. Dicks.”

You’re still gawking as he finishes his spiel, and you feel a little like a fish. You surely must look like one, with your mouth hanging open in shock, your eyes as wide as saucers, and the general air of befuddlement that surrounds you. There are so many things you want to say, questions you have, all of them colliding in your brain.

“I like sexual activity just fine!” is what makes it out, just as the speaker beside your window crackles to life. There’s a long, pregnant pause in which you and Seokjin just stare at each other.

“So...what can I get for you today?” The worker says through the speaker. You want to die, just a little, as you rattle off your order and Seokjin’s to him; the universe hates you, obviously, that’s the only real explanation here.

“We are not talking about this,” You tell Seokjin firmly as you pull away from the speaker. Your face is still burning, but you refuse to acknowledge it. “You are paying and then we are heading to the cabin and we are not ever speaking of this again.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. You almost believe that he’s dropped the subject, but unfortunately you know him too well for that. Which is why you shoot him a warning look as you pull up to the window and he starts to say something.

“All I was going to say is that my parents asked about you the other day. They’re mad that you haven’t been by lately.”

“I’ve been busy,” You say as you hand Seokjin’s card to the kid in the window. “I haven’t had time to visit.”

“You visit Jimin’s grandma like twice a week.”

“Yeah, well, Granny Park and I are friends. Not to mention I still have to unseat her as the reigning go champion.” You don’t mention that you’re sneaking her mistledough and cookies so that she won’t blab about the fact that you’re in love with Seokjin. Or that every time you go to his parents’ house, they end up talking about weddings and asking when you’re getting married. You can’t deal with that, not when you factor in your feelings for their son.

“I’m just saying. You’re like a daughter to them. They miss you. I’m going by there after we get back from the cabin, and I think they’d like it if you tagged along.”

All you give him is a noncommittal grunt and several bags of fast food. You love his parents, you really do. You just wish they didn’t come with the constant reminder that Jin only sees you as a sister.

He lets you eat in silence, though, content to munch on your fries and pretend most of the morning never happened. He sings along to every song that plays on the radio, and it isn’t until you’re about thirty minutes away from the city and doing your best to navigate the roads in the worsening snow that you get suspicious.

“When you say you like sexual activity just fine-"

“I thought we dropped this!” He sends you a look that just says ‘really?’ and continues.

“I just want to know what you mean. Because obviously we’re on two different pages.”

“I mean that I like it just fine. I enjoy it, it’s fun, I would like to continue having it in the future. What of that is strange to you?”

“No, I just...I was under the impression that you weren’t interested in that. You never really talk about it, and you’ve never mentioned any...partners, or anything so…”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to inform you of every person I’ve ever slept with.” You glance over at him, astounded, and are shocked to see that his lips are pursed in a frown and his brows are drawn together. You resist the urge to reach out and smooth the lines on his face. “Wait, are you actually upset about this?”

“It’s just...I’ve told you about every person I’ve slept with.” You wince a little because he’s right. You’ve heard about every single one of his sexual encounters, some of them in great detail, and you do your best not to think about them. “If I had known that you were interested, then-”

“What? You would’ve set me up with one of your friends?”

“Who was the last person?”

“What?”

“Who was the last person you had sex with?”

You look at him again, a quick glance to try to figure out if he’s being serious or not. His face is hard, an emotion you can’t place clear in the set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure there’s an actual blizzard starting around us, and you want to know who I fucked recently?”

“Yeah, I do. Fair’s fair, Pumpkin.” Something in his voice raises alarms in your head. You could insist that you don’t want to talk about it; he’d respect it if you were really serious, you know he would. There’s an edge to him right now, though, one you haven’t seen in a very long time, and you don’t like it. You want to smooth it out, sand it back into the gentle lilt you love.

“Fuck, Spice, I don’t know. That guy from the bar that one night?”

“What night? What bar?”

“I don’t fucking remember, okay? It was like...fuck, years ago, I don’t even remember what he looked like, let alone his name or what bar it was. Are you happy now? For fuck’s sake, I didn’t think I had to report to you every time I wanted to get laid. You’re my best friend, not my keeper. I didn’t think it was any of your business.”

He mumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch; between the sound of the heater going full blast and the Christmas carols he’s got blaring through your truck’s sound system, it’s hard to hear anything. Still, when you glance over at him again, something dark sits in his expression, and you’ve got a gut feeling it’s your fault.

Things remain tense even after you arrive at the cabin. Seokjin doesn’t wait for you to help him, just loads all of his stuff into his arms and wobbles his way inside while you’re still slinging your overnight bag over your shoulder. The door slams behind you as you enter, caught by the wind of the growing storm outside, and you send what you hope is an apologetic wave to where Taehyung and Star - his girlfriend of forever and one of your closest friends - sit in the den.

You immediately make your way to the kitchen, swiping a tin of cookies and making hot chocolate, all while ignoring the overly aggressive chopping your best friend is doing behind you. You’re sure Star and Tae aren’t surprised when you flee to the room that you’ve unofficially claimed over the years.

You stay there for most of the day. The door stays open, just in case someone actually wants to come talk to you; you have no doubt that everyone can hear you cursing at the dog show you’re watching, and at one point you’re pretty sure you hear Namjoon’s voice steer someone away, but you can’t be sure. You don’t even want to be sure. All you really want is to know what the fuck you did to piss your best friend off and get him back to normal.

You can’t just ask him, though, because he’ll no doubt get even angrier that you don’t already know, despite the fact that you have no way of knowing unless he actually tells you.

Frustrated, you pick up your phone and flip uselessly through the chat you have with him, trying to find literally any explanation for how he’s acting. The group chat with all the boys plus Star and Cat has been quiet most of the day, only the offhanded comment about someone leaving now or going to be a little late.

Your chat with just Cat and Star is almost as quiet. There’s a featured video of Seokjin blowing up at Jeongguk a bit too harshly considering the younger had just nabbed some kimchi before dinner, but that’s essentially it. You’re tempted to ask Star to get Seokjin to tell her what’s going on, but not only do you not want to drag her into whatever this is, you also know better. He wouldn’t tell her anything. She isn’t his best friend.

As much as you’re looking forward to the rest of the night, there’s a sense of dread deep in your bones when you eventually emerge from your room. You only do so because you’re out of hot chocolate and you know that you’ll be dinner if you’re late to eat.

You wave off Star’s curious look when she sees you; you don’t need her worrying about you, not when she’s got so much else to focus on, if the crutches leaned nearby are any indication. Hobi and Cat haven’t arrived yet, which only adds to the sinking feeling in your gut, but you brush it off. They would call if they had trouble. You know they would. Besides, Cat said they’d probably be leaving late.

Seokjin doesn’t even look at you as you pass him to get to the dining table, and that hurts more than you’d like to admit. The real sucker punch comes once you sit down, however, when you see a mug of hot cocoa with your signature candy cane placed just to the right of your plate, only to realize that Seokjin’s mug of special coffee he loves so much is placed at the other end of the table.

Away from you.

Air catches in your lungs, and it sounds silly that you’re tearing up over your best friend not sitting beside you, but he always sits beside you. Always. No matter what the two of you have been fighting about, he’s always sat beside you because he likes to laugh at the faces you make about the conversations going on, and he feeds you the best bits of meat while you act annoyed about it but secretly love it.

You knew Seokjin was upset, but you hadn’t realized he was this upset.

Jimin sits beside you and introduces you to his neighbor, but you don’t even catch her name, just that he keeps calling her Snow and she looks at him like he’s the meal and that there’s a massive purple bruise along Jimin’s neck that you have a sneaking suspicion is her handiwork. She looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t be bothered to place her, not when Seokjin is laughing about something Star is saying and looks entirely too at home down there.

On your other side, Namjoon and his roommate are talking about a science something or other that they’ve been working on. They’re both so invested in the conversation that neither notice Namjoon dumping the extra spicy sauce over his rice instead of the mild that he prefers. You can’t even bear to listen as he starts complaining to Seokjin that he made the food too spicy and the resulting tirade from the eldest.

If anyone notices your sour mood, they don’t say anything. It’s not surprising, when you think about it; you’ve long been established as the grump of the group, and you don’t expect that to change, even with the girl Jeongguk brought along that seems torn between whether she actually likes him or not.

Yoongi catches your eye at one point and you just cock a brow at him.

“Where’s Jisoo?” You mouth at him across the table. He looks to Peaches, the girlfriend of his that you’ve only ever met once in passing, and looks back at you. You way your eyebrows at him halfheartedly and Yoongi rolls his eyes. It’s disappointing that Jisoo isn’t here. She always provides some sort of entertainment.

If nothing else, she usually provides some semblance of distraction.

By the time dinner ends, you’re fairly positive no one knows about your spat with Seokjin, or the strange tension between the two of you. You’re sure no one noticed how you didn’t eat much of anything; everyone was too wrapped up in their own conversations and relationships to pay much attention to little old you.

You really should know better by now.

Jimin doesn’t move from his spot beside you, even as the others begin gathering dishes and your best friend disappears into the kitchen with the promise of cookies and chocolate-covered treats in an hour or two. Snow disappears, no doubt after a silent conversation between her and Jimin, and you roll your eyes at how he watches her disappear into the room they’ve claimed.

The two of you sit in silence; it’s a game of wits, almost. You know he knows something is up, but you also know that he knows you aren’t one to just offer up your thoughts. But he knows that you know that, and he knows you know he isn’t going to let it go because he can tell something is actually bothering you this time.

“So are we going to talk about why Seokjin has been so pissy all day and how there’s been a notable lack of Pumpkin by his side, or are we going to continue to pretend that everything’s fine like we did through dinner?”

You wish you were better able to resist him. Maybe your time with his grandmother has weakened you to him, and maybe you should work on being less transparent with him, but either way, you slump in your chair and set your empty mug of hot chocolate down with a thump. You still send him a glare that he smiles through and make a mental note to tell Granny Park that there’s a reason for his sudden need for scarves that she should ask him about.

“We had a fight.” You eventually grumble, eyes darting to where Seokjin stands over in the kitchen, dipping marshmallows, pretzels, and other treats into melted chocolate. “I think.”

“You think?”

It doesn’t take very long for you to recount the day’s events to him. You even tell him about The Incident from that morning that you walked in on, because once you start talking you can’t seem to stop until he knows it all.

“And now he’s pissed, I think at me, but I can’t figure out why. I mean, it wasn’t any of his business, but you know how I am with him, so it’s not like I could just not tell him, but I don’t understand why it pissed him off.” You huff a little. The frustration with everything that rolls in your stomach collides with the hurt you feel over Seokjin snubbing you, and it’s so distracting that you almost miss Jimin’s careful whisper of your name.

“Have you ever considered just asking him?” Jimin says softly. “I’m pretty sure having an actual conversation with him would fix this whole thing.”

“But…” You hesitate, twisting a stray thread from your sweater between your fingers. “Jimin, what if he hates me?”

There’s a vulnerability to your voice that you hate, one that only Seokjin, Jimin, and Granny Park have ever seen. It’s rare, mostly because you hate feeling vulnerable, but it makes Jimin’s eyes soften ever so slightly even as he bursts into a fit of giggles so powerful that he almost falls out of his chair.

“This is not helping!” You hiss, shooting a look at where Seokjin is rolling out chocolate chip cookie dough. He doesn’t look up at Jimin’s outburst, but his lips twitch ever so slightly into a frown and the crease between his brows deepens.

You know that look, too well. It’s his ‘I Do Not Care Even Though I Actually Do But I Don’t Want You To Know I Care” look. You saw it frequently when he first went off to college, when he was constantly worrying about all the boys he left behind in that little cul-de-sac. You really hoped it wouldn’t ever come back.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says eventually, wiping a tear away from one eye. “I really am, I promise, I’m just. Oh, I think I might lose a bet.”

“What? How is that helpful, Jimin? Y’know what, where’s that dumb dog thing Yoongi made you, I need to smush its face until I feel better--”

“What you need,” Jimin says as he places a gentle hand on your shoulder to sit you back down in your chair, “Is to stop abusing my lovingly crafted plushies and actually talk to Seokjin.”

“I can’t tell him how I feel, you know this Chim-”

“Did I say confess?” Jimin asks as he stands, eyes flickering to where his neighbor-slash-girlfriend(?) is in their room. “Just talk to him. I mean really talk to him, okay, about why he’s upset. I think you’ll be surprised.”

Jimin doesn’t give you a chance to protest; he’s gone and disappeared down the hallway before you can blink, and you don’t want to know what’s happening in that room.

Eventually you meander over to where Seokjin is sliding cookies out of the oven, each perfectly placed to allow for the perfect bake. You putter around for a minute or two, opening and closing cabinet doors at random. You aren’t finding anything interesting, certainly not the strength to have this conversation, which is why you’re startled when someone says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

You turn, and Seokjin is absently stirring leftover melted chocolate. When you fail to move, too busy staring at him in confusion, he turns and points to a cabinet beside you. “The cocoa,” He says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

“Thanks,” You mumble as you move toward it. Inside is a box of candy canes and a weathered tin that you recognize from Seokjin’s apartment. Its twin sits in the bakery, right beside the register so that it’s close at hand for when you inevitably come thundering in with a storm cloud above your head. Each holds the special cocoa recipe that Seokjin learned from his grandfather, who learned it from his grandfather.

You chance a glance at your best friend; he knows how much you love that cocoa. The people in this cabin right now are the only people he’ll make it for - save for Hoseok and Cat, who still haven’t arrived. Seokjin’s ears are burning red, and a weaker person - or at least one less accustomed to him - may have cooed at the sight. But you’ve spent too long building up the walls so that he’ll never find out just what you keep tucked away in your heart.

“I’m-”

“Sorry.” He finishes for you. “I know you are. And...I forgive you.” You nod at his words; you couldn’t even hazard a guess as to what had actually upset him, but you’re glad he’s forgiven you for it. Still, it nags at you, because what if it happens again? Unlikely, considering you haven’t been able to get laid in actual years because you’re too smitten with the man standing across from you, but still.

“Are you going to tell me why you were upset, or are you just going to play with chocolate all night?” You eventually ask. He sighs, heavy and long, and turn to lean back on the counter beside you. He’s wearing his ridiculous alpaca apron that you got him for his birthday, and that only makes him more beautiful as he considers what he wants to say.

Your heart lurches painfully in your chest. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted, and it almost feels like he’s close enough to touch, but you just can’t seem to let your hand reach out to do so. You think if you could, you might be able to grab him and hold on forever, but something deep in your gut stills you.

The fear of losing him, of losing everything that you have with him right now - late nights at the bakery, shopping for birthday presents, the quiet moments in a chaotic world where you find peace in each other. As much as it hurts to love him, as hard as it is to speak around the words that strangle in your throat that speak truth to every feeling you’ve ever locked in the recesses of your heart, you can’t risk telling him. Because this pining and loving and eventually watching him grow old with someone he loves?

That’s enough for you.

“I just got jealous, I suppose,” Seokjin eventually says. “I always thought that you weren’t interested in sex, y’know? You mentioned it once in college that you’d tried it, but your little half-frown was there, so I knew you didn’t like it, because you get the same one every time you eat gingerbread because you hate it but you don’t want me to get disappointed that you aren’t eating the houses I make. I just thought it wasn’t something you wanted in life.”

“Um.”

“Which is obviously fine, sex isn’t for everyone, asexual people exist and are valid, as are those that are sex-repulsed, y’know? And I decided a long time ago when I first looked into it all that I didn’t care about sex in a relationship. That’s not the important thing to being partners with someone. But apparently sex is a thing for you, and I just wish I had known that because all this time I could’ve-”

“What, set me up with your friends?”

“No, definitely not. It’s just that we...I could have...it just hurts to know that you’ll have sex with other people but not with me, even though I respect that it’s your decision to make.”

“What.”

“But I just...I know I’m not entitled to an explanation, but I can’t lie, I would really appreciate one if you can give it. I mean...I dunno, I know that I had sex with other people, but we had that whole conversation in college about it, and you seemed alright with it, so I did. And I always told you about them, because communication and openness is important, and I wanted you to know that I was respecting your boundaries with that while also satisfying my own needs. But it really did feel weird, because...y’know, so I stopped. And I guess I assumed that if you weren’t fucking me, you weren’t fucking anyone.”

“What.”

“I just really care about you, Pumpkin, and I know I know don’t really say it a lot because I’m more of a ‘showing it’ kind of guy, but...I just would have appreciated knowing that. Especially since I’ve always been more than willing to love you like that.”

“Spice,” You say slowly, being careful to keep your face blank. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

Seokjin blinks at you owlishly. “What do you mean ‘what am I talking about,’ I thought I was pretty clear. I mean...yeah, I’d love it if you would have sex with me, but that’s your decision, and I’m curious as to your reasoning and logic. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, which is why I forgave you, because as much as it stings, it’s your choice. And I love you, as you know, so-”

“How would I possibly know that?” Your voice catches a little on the words, probably because you’re having a little trouble actually breathing. Everything is fuzzy and the words ‘I’d love it if you would have sex with me’ and ‘I love you’ are playing on a loop in your brain. Your entire world has just shifted on its axis, and yet Seokjin looks completely unbothered.

“Maybe because I’ve put up with you so long?” He teases with a fond smile. “I mean, I know we aren’t the type to say the words very often, but c’mon Pumpkin. We’ve been dating since you were twelve, not many would last that long without even a kiss.”

“We haven’t been together since I was twelve, though.” He raises a brow at your confused tone.

“Okay, thirteen, then.” He says. The confusion on your face must be apparent, because it begins to bleed into his, the beautiful features morphing to mirror your own.

“Seokjin, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We aren’t dating.”

His expression only gets more confused.

“Uh, yes we are?”

“Uh, no we aren’t? When the fuck did that happen?”

“When you were twelve, as I said. I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“I feel like I would have remembered that happening.”

“Then you should go to a doctor, because it definitely did. It was the best day of my life. We were sitting on the playground, it was recess, you were upset.”

“I remember none of that.”

“You cannot possibly have forgotten this!” Seokjin exclaims. “I cheered you up and offered you my cookie, which you ate in like two bites even though I had made it with salt instead of sugar and it had to be disgusting, because some girl had knocked your cupcake into the dirt-”

“Park Sooyoung, that bitch, I remember that-”

“And then,” Seokjin continues, ignoring your outburst, “I was so deeply honored that you ate that disgusting thing that I offered you the equal honor of being my girlfriend. And you nodded and I kissed your cheek and then you punched me in the arm - which hurt, I might add, for days - and then I watched you play Pokemon Sapphire on your Gameboy Advance.”

The memory rushes in, though not exactly how he remembers it. Park Sooyoung had knocked your cupcake out of your hands and into the dirt, and you had been so mad about it that you’d started to cry. Seokjin found you, curled under a tree away from everyone else, and when he eventually learned what upset you, he’d told Sooyoung off like no one had ever seen. And then he’d handed you the best cookie you’ve ever eaten.

You think maybe that was when you first started falling for Seokjin. With the salty cookie that masked the taste of your own tears, and the angry tirade he had gone on despite the two of you not having known each other for very long, with the wide smile and squeaky laugh and ears so red and cute that you couldn’t focus on whatever he was saying and just nodded along to it.

“Well...why didn’t you say anything since then?” A thought crosses your mind, and it so horror-filled that you have to ask. “Do the guys know?”

“If they do, it’s not because I told them,” Seokjin answers easily. “When you introduced yourself as my friend, I figured you were just a very private person and didn’t want to rub it in their faces or something.”

“Is that why you always drag me along when you, Hobi, Tae, Cat, and Star go out for karaoke?”

“Obviously,” He scoffs. “What could be better than a triple date with your two best friends?”

“Literally anything! Hobi and Cat sing each other the most raunchy things I’ve ever heard, and Tae does all those weepy ballads or indie songs nobody recognizes, and Star’s got those dopey love eyes all night, it’s revolting.”

“You mean like those faces you make at me when you think I won’t notice?”

“I-” You huff, at a loss. “Well what about the other day, with that girl at Mistledough you were flirting with, who was flirting back and-” Realization hits you. “And she’s Jimin’s neighbor girlfriend lady!”

“Pumpkin. Are you serious right now?” He gives you a dry look, but there’s amusement written all over it. “You’ve heard my sales pitch a hundred times. You’ve given my sales pitch a hundred times, albeit with a little more of a monotone and general ‘I’ll kill you’ vibe to it. It was just so she’d buy all the treats I could possibly sell her.”

You make a small ‘hmph’ noise that you aren’t exactly proud of, but makes Seokjin laugh. He pulls you into a warm hug, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you there. It’s a little awkward, because your arms are still crossed over your chest, but he doesn’t seem to mind and despite all the muttered complaints you give him, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“So…” Jin says in a too-casual tone after a few minutes. You muffle a groan into his chest, already preparing for the worst. “What kind of sex are you into?”

“Oh my god,” You mumble.

“Wait, you’re right, I’m getting ahead of myself.” He clears his throat and stands to his full height. When he looks at you again, his eyes are full of something you can’t place exactly, but it makes your heart skip nonetheless when he says your full name. “Will you do me the honor of officially becoming my girlfriend? Again?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and nod. The grin takes over his face is blinding, worth all the trouble from the day, as is the soft kiss he presses to your cheek. You can’t help but huff when he pulls away from it, even, and he raises an amused brow at it.

“Does this mean I can finally kiss you the way I’ve been dreaming of forever?”

You do roll your eyes this time, but you let your fingers dance over his jaw and pull him into a gentle kiss. His lips are softer than they look, which you truly didn’t think was possible, and the way they mold and move with yours is warm and tender. You don’t even know how long you spend kissing Seokjin. Time isn’t real, not now, not with him pulling you closer and pressing warm against you like every single daydream you’ve let yourself have.

Years of repressed urges and desire come out before you can stop them, though. Your hands move down to rest on Seokjin’s impossibly tiny waist, slipping behind his apron to tease at the waistband of his slacks. Why he insists everyone wear nice clothes to dinner, you couldn’t possibly say, but they make his ass look phenomenal so you never complain.

The kisses become more heated, his tongue dipping out to taste your lips for a moment. Hands find their way to your ass and palm it greedily, and he tugs you flush against him. A hard length is pressing into you, and you don’t have to guess to know it's not the rolling pin.

Images - memories - flash through your mind of that morning. Your mouth waters and you pull back from Seokjin. Panting, lips swollen from kisses, and half-lidded eyes, he's never looked better.

"Can I suck your dick?"

He groans low in his throat and his eyes fall closed. "Fuck, Pumpkin, right here? Anyone could walk by." You drop to your knees as your hands undo the clasp on the pants.

"Doubtful, they're probably having that post-dinner nap, or playing some game." Anxiety pools in your gut; you know quite a bit about what Seokjin likes in bed, but you've never been sure if exhibitionism is on that list. "Does it make you uncomfortable? I don't have to. I've just been thinking about it all day."

Seokjin barks out a quick laugh and shakes his head. "No," He says, "I definitely would love for you to suck my dick in this kitchen if you want to."

"Good." You flip his apron to the side and tug his cock out of its confines. You don't bother dropping his pants all the way; there's no time, you're too impatient. "Let me know if anyone shows up."

Whatever he's about to say gets cut off by a sharp intake of breath as you warp your lips around the head of him. One of his hands moves to grip the counter behind him and the other rests lightly on your crown; he doesn't pull or tug, just keeps his hand as a gentle pressure as you sink him deeper into your mouth.

As much as you've never been one for sucking dick, you're in heaven. There's no other explanation for why it feels this good to have him sitting heavy against your tongue as he hits the back of your throat. There are still two inches left so you wrap your hand around it and hollow your cheeks as you pull back.

A strangled moan escapes him, and his fingers tighten ever so slightly in your hair. Heat floods to your core and you kick yourself internally because you could have been doing this for years. Your tongue darts out to slide teasingly along the underside of his cock and he reflexively thrusts into your mouth.

You cough a little and pull back, wiping spit from your lips as you catch your breath, and Seokjin is already spewing apologies.

“I’m fine,” You say as you sit back against the cabinet, tugging him to stand in front of you. His back is to most of the kitchen and your head rests against the hard wood behind you while you eye the hard wood in front of you. “I can take a little bit of roughness, Spice, don’t worry.”

He looks hesitant so you ghost your fingers along his length to tease him. His jaw clenches at the same time his eyes close and you resist the urge to smile. Tension bleeds out of his shoulders and when he opens his eyes again, he quirks a brow in a silent question and you nod.

In seconds, he’s in your throat once more, thrusting himself in and out at a slow pace that makes you clench with the desire to feel it elsewhere. You hollow your cheeks and suck properly as he fucks your throat, and he muffles another moan.

“Fuck, Pumpkin, please don’t stop,” Seokjin whines quietly. You smile, just a little, and take him back into your throat for a few seconds before pulling back and repeating the process. Each time he hits the back of your throat, he lets out a muffled groan that only makes you wetter. His cock is thick and your jaw aches and you’re struggling to breathe just a little bit, but the fucked out expression on his face is more than worth it.

Something clatters in the hallway and you freeze, Seokjin’s cock sheathed to the hilt in your throat. His ears turn red and he starts to pull back, but you stop him with a hand on his thigh. He looks down at you, surprised, and you chance a wink that makes him chuckle.

Footsteps make their way past, giggles following close behind, and you hear the door leading to the hot tub open and close. After a few seconds of silence, Seokjin relaxes, pulling out of your throat. You take a few deep breaths and glance over to the door, curious.

“Jimin and Snow,” He tells you, one hand absently stroking along your cheek. “We probably shouldn’t use the hot tub tonight.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Why would I want to anyway? Have you heard Namjoon’s lecture on what could potentially grow in a hot tub if it isn’t sanitized regularly? It’s not a fun lecture.” Seokjin laughs, squeaky and adorable, and helps you to your feet. He doesn’t hesitate to pepper kisses along your cheeks, and you wrinkle your nose even as tilt your head so he can get the places he missed.

“Now when you said that you can handle a little roughness…” Seokjin says, voice a soft murmur in your ear. You make a small hum of affirmation, encouraging him to continue. “Does that mean I can spank you for not finishing blowing me, or is that something you’d rather not do?”

“Fuck, Seokjin,” You hiss, rubbing your thighs together. “Now you have to do it.”

He’s got you turned around in an instant, your fancy dress pants on the ground a few seconds later. His hands mold to your ass, cupping the flesh briefly through your underwear before letting his hands fall away.

It’s methodical and slow and torturous, how he peels away that last layer keeping him from your wetness. You know that the fabric is soaked through, it has been since you first got his dick in your mouth, and Seokjin groans at the sight.

“Even better than I imagined,” He mutters. Your cheeks heat in a rare blush, and you drop your head down between where your forearms are braced against the countertop. His hand smacks against your ass, lightly, and you choke back a laugh. Is that really what he thinks a spank is?

Another slap hits you, no real force behind it, and you scoff under your breath.

“What?” Seokjin asks. When you look back at him, he’s expectant, like he knows what you’re about to say.

“Is that what you call a slap?” You ask. He rolls his eyes and pulls his hand back for another. It already looks unsatisfying, and you can’t help but push him a little further. “I always wondered why your dough doesn’t rise high enough. Guess I know now.”

His eyes darken and a chill comes over you.

“Oh, is that how this is gonna be?” He asks. He gestures for you to face forward again and you do, curious as to the dark look in his eyes.

Something hard and cold smacks into your ass, and you yelp in surprise. There’s a little more force behind it, enough to sting pleasantly but not enough to hurt.

“Is that better, Pumpkin?” He asks. There’s a mocking tone to his voice, but when you look back, you can see the slant of his lips and tension in his jaw that shows he’s concerned. The rolling pin from earlier rests in his hands, and it flares something in your gut.

“Much,” You tell him as you turn back around. He spanks you with it again, and again, and again, and it isn’t until you feel something wet drip down the back of your leg that you remember the chocolate he was fucking around with earlier.

“If you get that on my nice clothes, I will destroy you,” You warn him. He laughs a little and there’s a thump as the rolling pin hits the countertop.

“Is that code for get me naked?” He asks, a laugh in his voice.

“No, that’s code for lick it up and then fuck my brains out.”

The laugh in his throat quickly becomes a growl and he sets to work doing just that. His tongue runs over your skin, gently lapping at the chocolate there, and several times he gets distracted leaving purple marks in his wake. He even slides tongue along your slit, long and thorough and quick, and you almost come just from the obscene moan he lets out.

"Fuck, please, I need you," You gasp out. Seokjin slides a hand under your shirt, massaging the muscles in your back as he does, and stands to his full height.

"Let me know if it hurts," He says softly. His voice is a whisper against your ear and it's never sounded quite so wrecked or beautiful. "I'll stop, okay?"

"If you don't get inside me in the next five seconds, I will go ask Jimin and Snow if I can join them in their kinky hot tub," you growl.

He curses quietly and thrusts his length inside you. Neither of you are quite prepared for what it feels like, and the moment he gets buried to the hilt, he stills.

"Shit, Pumpkin, I'm not gonna last long," He mutters. You can't even manage words. The stretch is absolutely blissful, just on the right side of painful when paired with the sting of your still-tender ass. He's the perfect height for this, too; perfectly lined up without either of you having to try very hard.

He pulls almost entirely out, leaving just the dusty pink head you remember inside. There's not even a chance to whine at the loss, because before you know it, he's slamming back in.

Seokjin's pace is erratic and harried; there's no smooth strokes here. You're both in too much of a rush, too drunk on the pleasure to want anything but release.

Hands move along your skin, one lifting your shirt so he can pepper kisses along your spine while the other reaches down to gently tweak your clit.

It takes three swipes of his finger to have your knees shaking with the power of your orgasm. You clench around him and he stills. You can't think, your brain is absolutely fried at this point; all you know is the feeling of him inside you and the disappointing emptiness when he pulls out.

Warmth hits your back and Seokjin's moans echo in your ears. You're almost afraid to turn around, afraid this is some hyper-realistic dream.

"Shit, hold on, let me clean this up," he says, panting. You can hear him moving through the kitchen and when he comes back, something cold and wet slides along your back.

You wait patiently as he cleans you up. He wipes away every instance of cum and chocolate from your skin - though he looks a little disappointed to be doing so, which you file away for later.

"God, that's so much fucking cum," You say, wrinkling your nose at the mass of wet wipes he tosses in the trash while you fasten your pants once more.

It's just in time, too, as Jimin and Snow come in from the hot tub, smiling and giggly with each other.

"Ah," Jimin says, looking between you and Seokjin. "I did lose a bet. Damn, she's gonna be so pleased with herself."

You glare at him, but there's no real heat behind it. The two of them disappear to get dressed in actual clothes, and you and Seokjin set to work plating the cookies and treats he'd made.

You can't stop the fond look at the rolling pin every few minutes.

Later, after you discover Cat and Hobi have arrived safely and you make sure they actually eat the plates set aside for them, you're on the hunt for Seokjin. He's disappeared somewhere and it's almost time for the countdown.

You finally find him - where else - in the kitchen, making a horrified face at Namjoon.

"What? It was good," Namjoon says with a frown. Seokjin just waves him off and Namjoon shrugs, grabbing a couple glasses of champagne and heading back to Slick.

You sidle up to him as close as you can get and he wraps an arm around your waist like it's second nature. It's surreal, that the man you love is pressing a kiss to your temple and handing you a mug of cocoa.

"I'm glad we talked," He says eventually. You hum your agreement; you aren't looking at him, just staring down into your cocoa as you absently stir it with a candy cane, but you do lean into him ever so slightly. "Remind me to bake Jimin a cake."

"Why? What's he done to deserve a cake?"

"He helped me out earlier, while I was cooking dinner. Helped me figure out how to say what I needed to, that sort of thing."

Your face shoots up as your heart clenches in your chest. "Jimin," You echo. "Jimin is why you decided to talk about your feelings." Seokjin just nods, eyes wide and not understanding why you have murder in your eyes.

"I'm gonna kill him so hard-" You say, already setting your mug down and turning to go find that short gremlin and skin him alive. You don't get two steps before a hand comes to rest on your shoulder, heavy but gentle.

Seokjin pulls you closer to him, a smile playing on his lips as he does. "Why would you want to kill Jimin for that, Pumpkin?"

"Because!" You exclaim. "Jimin's the only one that knows that I-"

The words tangle in your throat, cloying together into a ball you can't seem to unwind. You're too used to choking it down. You don't know how to say it.

"That you love me?" Seokjin finishes. You can't bear to look at him, huffing slightly as you turn to stare out the kitchen window at the snow-covered trees beyond.

Seokjin's hand glides down your arm to wrap around your own, tangling his fingers with yours. With a grace you tend to forget he has, he brings them both upwards until he can press a soft kiss in the center of your palm.

"Jimin isn't the only one that knows that, Pumpkin," He says quietly. You can feel your ears burning, a pleasant contrast from how it's usually him embarrassed and red.

"Whatever," you grumble, giving up on your mission to brutally murder one of your best friends. Seokjin laughs, loud and squeaky and wonderful, and pulls you into another hug.

"I love you too," He whispers. "Now, let's go join the others. I believe you owe me several years of kisses."

"You wish," You mutter half-heartedly. He hands you your cocoa and pats your still-sore ass with a wink.

"That's a great move."

"Really?"

"Yes." There's a pause as she waits for you to remove your fingers from the piece. "If you want to lose."

You offer her a weak glare that she ignores as she studies the board.

"I'm glad that you and Seokjinnie finally got things figured out. It was very cute to watch, but it was getting a little ridiculous, you know."

She moves a piece, and you squint to try to help you figure out her strategy.

"Right, it had nothing to do with your bet with Jimin," You say sarcastically as you move another piece. You eye her, one finger still remaining on it, to try to figure out if it's what she expected.

"Of course not," She says as you remove your hand. "That was merely a bonus." She immediately lays a piece, gaining even more of an advantage than she already had.

"Well then," You start as you lay another piece, "I'm sure you know all about Jimin and his neighbor, and Star and Tae I don't need to tell you anything about Yoongi or Cat or Jeongguk, either, probably."

Her fingers hesitate over the piece she's picking up, and her eyes narrow at you.

"Ah, don't be so cruel. You're supposed to respect your elders, you know."

"Alright, Granny Park," You say with a rare grin as you glance to where Seokjin is baking a ‘sorry we fucked in your kitchen’ cake and decoration some sugar-free cookies for her. "What exactly do you want to know?

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calypsoff · 3 years

Text

Seventy Two.

I’ve been very busy these past few weeks, I’ve been to Miami and back just dropping off my clothing line for clients and then rushing back because of my wife of course, because she needs me. I have been offered to be stay over but I said no, I rather be here with Robyn for every moment “how is things?” We have had the designer here for a few days now, he’s been designing my daughter room and I’m excited to see because they are just doing a lot of the storage system at the moment, she’s going to be one lucky girl with what’s she’s getting done, a real life princess she will be “good, we have extended the back wall which has given the baby a walk in closet. Robyn wanted her to have closet space and she said it was small so we have done that and if you look here” walking behind him, the bedroom is huge, she is lucky as hell “this part is her play area but look at this walk in closet, you can fill this part with diapers and everything, this is just for utilities, this wall was just put up yesterday which was part of the bathroom. We kept the bathtub in there for baths still but what you think?” Nodding my head “spacious, I know the closet here was small, the one down the hall is bigger but we wanted her close by to us, but I am happy with it. So you still going to put Fenty-Brown here on the wall” walking back out “yeah we are still doing that, integrated the cameras here and monitors for her” nodding my head “Chris can I speak to you, hi” Robyn left the bedroom “I guess that’s me” walking off, I wonder what Robyn wants. It seems a little urgent or something has upset her “I am in the bedroom” clearing my throat making my way to the bedroom, I have pretty much just come back from Miami, so I didn’t see Robyn last night “what’s up?” Closing the door “does my skin look different, look at my face. Can you see the freckles here. Look at my cheeks, here. Can you see it” staring at Robyn “you not even looking and look” she lifted her top up “the line on my stomach” sighing out “it’s fine Robyn, I don’t see an issue. Your skin is fine, you’re panicking too much” she is doing the most and I hate that “but so much is happening to me, people say I am glowing but with what? With moles” shaking my head “glowing with beauty, stop it” I really can’t wait for pregnancy to be over for Robyn because this is a nightmare.

I can’t believe I am here just cooing over baby clothes; I got some clothes online for our daughter that has been shipped in from London and I can’t believe how cute they look, I am so in love with the Burberry dresses “oh is that what came? I was thinking yesterday when packages came, they were big, and I didn’t know it’s this. You been shopping behind my back for her?” Nodding my head “anything for me” looking up at Robyn, just to check that she is joking but she is being deadass “erm, honestly no. Sorry but have you seen this Fendi blanket they gave us for free and the note says here. Congratulations on the bundle of joy and thank you for choosing child’s play clothing. It’s so dope” Robyn seems a little jealous “mhmm fancy dresses here too, so you chose this behind my back” leaning on the kitchen counter “erm, looks like it?” I don’t know what she wants me to say “ok, I mean it’s not like I am not carry her. I am not going through the pain and changes ok” I breathed out “we are going shopping today” Robyn walked off, of course she did and of course she is crying. I mean of course she is, why is she crying over me spending money on our daughter. I swear she said that we needed to start buying clothes, I maybe should have got her something. I don’t know anymore; women are just so sensitive over the littlest things and I am not sure if she’s sad that I chose clothes without her or that I didn’t buy her anything, but I guess I will now have to investigate on what is wrong.

Robyn is actually really crying, I thought it was a joke and she just had a face on with me but she’s crying “what is wrong now? Honest answer too” I sound so annoyed that is because I am annoyed “nothing, leave me alone” I groaned out “is it because I bought clothes without you? Is that it?” Robyn sniffled “it’s like I don’t matter anymore, I just give birth and that’s it, everyone stops caring. Like you didn’t even think about me, what about me. No gift for me at all” this is really a thing; what am I going to do with her “that is because we are going shopping today and I thought I would get you something while out, that is all. I didn’t forget about you I just you know thought why not just buy something for my while out shopping together. You choose and I pay? How does that sound” she is such a brat “did you really think that or you lying to me?” Shaking my head “I’m not, just knew we was going shopping today. Pick what you want, and I will pay, I got you” Robyn smiled, I deserve an award “you think I could be an actor?” I questioned “you’re an ass; I knew you was lying” she pointed at me “well because you are being a brat, this behaviour needs to stop. Our daughter will be the princess so she comes first, she has to come first” Robyn stared at me not impressed “but you are queen but anyways get dressed, we can go soon” Robyn is a pain in my ass, I am not even joking about this shit either. She is doing the most about everything, so sensitive about things.

I stifled out a yawn, I am just catching up on my email from my clothing line which I haven’t done for a while, but I need to find out what the fuck is up with these niggas Deja and them, I am sick of her posting the same picture of Robyn too, she says I am being a hater. Looking over at my phone as it rang out, answering the call because it is Rorrey “what’s up bro?” putting it on speakerphone “is Robyn around or close?” he asked, let me take this off speakerphone because it seems top secret. Placing the phone against my ear “no she isn’t, everything ok?” I questioned “just wanted to get on you on board so we are planning to do a surprise baby shower for my sister, a little something at the home. We need you to get her out of the house, we just want it small and just close friends and family, but she needs a little something. I spoke to her and she was being so negative, I said you not throwing a party, she said no so I think we will do it” sounds about right with Robyn “yeah, Rorrey. Trust me on this, it ain’t you. She has been like this, these moods are driving me crazy, but I can do that, you want me to take her away for a day or something? I don’t even know if I can deal with her now taking her away” Rorrey snorted laughing “maybe a day trip? Like early morning thing, If you can do that then it will be ok, we can sort the home out” that will be ok “she will be emotional, she is missing Monica a lot but then when I say you want your mom to come she says no” this is good idea, I should have come up with this shit.

We left the builders at the home and went to do some needed shopping with Rich, he’s coming along with us but honestly I am not looking forward to it. Just the simple fact Robyn has been just driving me crazy “do you love me” Robyn asked a simple question, but I can’t help but give a sarcastic answer “when you’re not pregnant, you are amazing. I will never complain about you, you’re the dream then” trying not to laugh but I can’t help it, I know Robyn is just staring at me because she’s so quiet. Looking over at her “yes twin?” Robyn poked her lips out “I am joking, so tell me baby what you want? Anything you want I will buy” I mean I may regret that “I would like to go Hermes, I want a new bag” nodding my head “cool, we will go there for you. I don’t mind, I told you I came out here to spoil you” I am saying that, but I didn’t think Robyn would have been sad that I am buying my daughter things “good luck with that bro, I seen these women bag shop and they are vultures” I can only imagine what they are like.

Rodeo drive is wild, like these stores are just for the rich. Locking my car door as I made my way to Robyn “twin” she is side eying me; she is still stuck on what I said earlier, holding onto her hand “Pop, that is what I am calling you now” here she goes “pop huh? You a brat, we need to speak on this brat behaviour though, you can’t be acting like I have to buy you things as well as our daughter, sometimes princess will get more things because she isn’t being a brat” Robyn poked her lips out “mhmm whatever silly butt, you will spoil me too. Remember who is pushing this baby out” walking to the Hermes store with Robyn “Miss Fenty” oh this guy knows her already “I am back to spend my husband money” Robyn said, she made it clear that she is spending money “well we have just had a new bag just come in” Robyn let my hand go, she is gone now “sit down Chris, I will be back” nodding my head slowly regretting this “she means it about sitting down, these women be taking their time with their bag picking, just you relax” Rich knows “there is a reason why I don’t really come shopping with Robyn, I be trying to avoid this” I sighed out.

I found a few nice pieces of clothing from this store but Robyn on the other hand, I have lost her in this store. She is somewhere “how are you enjoying Robyn, is she fun?” I chuckled “erm, I am not enjoying the pregnancy part, she is so dramatic” seeing Robyn walking with her hand on her bump and two assistants and their hands look full “erm just pay” she pointed, nodding my head looking between Robyn and then two assistants “that’s it, I just go and pay huh?” she nodded her head, I mean what has she even bought, you know I got two shirts out of everything?” I pointed out “and, get up” I sighed out as I got up, let me go and pay “is it expensive?” I asked the assistant and she put her head down “Chris, just go. Men” I am scared, I am very fearful for this because I feel like Robyn has been sneaky and just bought a lot of shit and made it so expensive “sir” the cashier said “hey, how much is what Rihanna bought?” he smiled at “that is seventy one thousand, two hundred sixty two dollars” my mouth fell open “excuse me? What she buy!?” I spat, I mean I shouldn’t ask but what the fuck, I mean what the fuck “seriously?” I had to ask again “yes sir” he is being polite, looking back at Robyn, she just smirked at me.

While Robyn was in the Gucci store I went and got myself a Burberry shirt, I thought I need to do the baby shower in style and be like every nigga, the Burberry shirt special “oh you back” smiling at Robyn “I like this, is it unisex?” touching the cardigan “yes it is” nodding my head “I like that” pressing a kiss to the back of Robyn’ head “please show him the coat, this is for when we go abroad and it’s cold, oh my god. Just look!” Robyn gushed as the assistant the coat Gucci coat “she will look French, like a little French baby” Robyn giggled “I am in love, I have bought her the cutest things Chris. I can’t wait for her to be here already, but we are hungry now” nodding my head “well let’s pay and then we can eat, if you can box this up” we have been shopping lots, so I don’t blame her, I think our daughter has a lot now and I think we need to stop “of course” the assistant started boxing the coat back up “so you get what you needed?” looking at the bag “yeah I did thanks, I was just wanting this shirt, that is all” I can’t wait for Robyn and this surprise for her, she deserves it but do I need to invite my family, I am sure I need too.

It irritates me, maybe it’s just me getting annoyed easily but it irritates me that people don’t know how to give us privacy, I see it. I see people trying to be lowkey by taking pictures of us and I can’t keep on saying it to people because it’s not like they are paparazzi, but it is annoying “you feeling better now? After eating” she seems content “very, you seem annoyed. Was it me?” shaking my head “you have people just there taking pictures, it can be annoying you know. I like us to have our privacy that is al, but how are you feeling?” she poked her lips out “fat, but Chris. Don’t pay the people around you any mind. I am used to it, we can’t battle them all, but I am glad we came shopping. I needed some retail therapy and have my man pay” she smirking but I am not over what that price was “oh yeah, what the fuck did you buy? I have never paid for something that expensive in my life, what the hell. Just wanted to make sure I spent more on your then my daughter huh” I know her “next time you buy things for me and her” I think I will have to be careful, Robyn is wanting to be the main princess.

#chrianna fanfiction #fanfiction #chriannaff #chrianna ff #chrianna #fanfic

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 61 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet opened up, Alaska chickened out, and Courtney finally had her date with Bianca.

This Chapter: Trixie widens his search for Aiden’s replacement, and Courtney gets a taste of the good life.

***

Courtney doodled absentmindedly on her notepad during Miss Fame’s Monday conference call. She was getting an update from the company that ran her European stores, and discussing the upcoming marketing plan with Alyssa. Courtney knew that she was only there in case Miss Fame wanted to add anyone to the line; since Ivy and Laganja were both on the call, she didn’t really need to be paying attention. She probably should’ve been anyway, but this was a case where a little negligence would be forgiven.

Which was good, because she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering, daydreaming about how wonderful the weekend had been with Bianca. Adore had come over on Sunday for dinner, after which Courtney almost went home, but Bianca pulled her in for an embrace and insisted that she stay another night. When she’d worried about not having any appropriate work clothes, Bianca promised to find her something from her own closet, even excited at the notion of styling her for the office.

At first, Courtney was a bit concerned about whether the thigh-high black boots were too hookerish, but Bianca was adamant that they were fashion - and she should know, right? At least her luxurious knit dress was in Fame’s approved color palette, so she was pretty sure she wouldn’t get scolded like the time she dared to wear a lime green top.

She looked down at her notebook, realizing that it was absolutely covered in hearts, and quickly flipped the page, embarrassed.

She clicked on her mouse, waking up the computer to check her emails. If she was gonna space out, she may as well make at least a halfhearted attempt at productivity. She saw that there were a few unread DMs and clicked on the window.

ROXY: Package here for you

ROXY: A big-ass box from Neiman Marcus

ROXY: From the Marie Claire messenger again

ROXY: You gonna tell me who you’re dating over there now?

COURTNEY: LOL, sorry. It’s brand new, I don’t think we’re ready to go public

ROXY: Bitch it’s just me, I can keep a secret

COURTNEY: Since when?????

ROXY: Since always!!

COURTNEY: On Friday, you told me that Jaida is getting IVF and Alyssa’s son is in rehab again

ROXY: Yeah and yet you tell me NOTHING

COURTNEY: LOL. Okay well when we’re telling people, I’ll tell you first. Deal?

ROXY: WHATEVER

ROXY: Another major delivery came for Fame’s asst from MC today

SHANNEL: OMG. BDR just came into Nina’s office in the weirdest mood. She was all smiley and she approved this dumb spread that Nina’s been pitching for 3 months.

ROXY: 21 year old pussy is good for the soul

SHANNEL: APPARENTLY

The second she could get up, Courtney raced to reception to grab the package, wondering what it could be. They’d put together a bunch of outfits with the stylist this weekend, most of which were still at Bianca’s--except for her ensemble for the party tomorrow, which was hanging in a garment bag on the coat rack, partially covered by Courtney’s jacket so as not to be too conspicuous.

When Roxy said “a big-ass box,” she wasn’t lying. Courtney’s eyes widened as she spotted the box, quickly taking it back to her own office, peeking inside while Fame was occupied with Raja. She pulled out the note first.

Stay warm. XX, B PS Don’t worry, the fur is faux

Extra curious now, Courtney reached into the box, lifting the tissue paper to see what was inside and finally just pulling it out--a beautiful, full-length, raspberry-colored winter coat with a fur-trimmed hood. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head as the utter extravagance of it all.

COURTNEY: OMG Bianca!

BIANCA: Do you like it?

COURTNEY: It’s beautiful! But it’s way too much. You’re spoiling me.

BIANCA: Get used to it ;)

Courtney smiled to herself, hiding the box under the table and standing to try on the coat, positively glowing with happiness. She glanced at herself in the mirror that Fame kept by the door for “last looks,” and saw that it fit her perfectly, even across her narrow shoulders, almost as if it was tailored to her body. Which...now that she thought about it, the stylist on Saturday had taken her measurements, so maybe it was.

Just then, the door to Fame’s office opened and Raja stepped out. Courtney whirled around, a guilty expression on her face.

“Oh are...are you done? I was, um...just going to get Miss Fame another coffee.”

“Yeah, we’re done for now, you should probably stick around. Nice coat,” Raja said, brushing past her on her way out. “I’ll be back at 2 to finish. Make sure she’s fed.”

“Okay, thank-” Courtney began, finishing with “-you,” just as Raja breezed from the room.

Courtney slowly removed her new coat, hanging it carefully on the rack before heading into Miss Fame’s office to ask what she wanted for lunch.

***

Bob closed the door to Trixie’s office behind him, making a beeline towards the coffee machine. It was mid afternoon, and while there still was a bit of a home stretch to go before the holiday break, the tough decisions ahead were out of his hands.

“All I’m saying Chachki,” Jovan smiled, the man leaning against the wall. He was wearing orange trumpet pants and a blue fuzzy sweater. “Is that I can totally bedazzle your crutches.”

“What an amazing offer,” Violet drawled, her tone completely dry.

“Hey guys!” Bob grinned, sliding in next to Maxwell, his boyfriend handing the cup he had just poured. “What are we talking about?”

“The Christmas Party,” Maxwell smiled, looking up at Bob who gave him a quick peck. He was wearing a pink shirt, the cotton stretched across his chest, the khakis he wore all year looking delicious on his pert little ass.

“Right!” Bob took a sip. The Galactica Christmas Party was one of the biggest fashion events in December, Miss Fame always going all out. Bob had heard rumors around town that there’d be gigantic ice sculptures, but Roxy had told him she had seen order confirmations for a forest of Christmas trees.

Some called him and Roxy the office gossip sluts, and if the name fit, Bob wasn’t going to complain.

“I haven’t decided what I’m wearing yet.” Violet was sitting on a chair, her curled hair fastened with a golden clip, her skirt just above her knees. “This is the first time I’m not going as Fame’s assistant and I don’t have to match her or blend into the background.”

That made sense, Bob really noticing how Violet’s wardrobe had shifted from the uptight prissy bitch who had first entered their floor, more color and sharp cuts showing up in Violet’s clothes as she got to express herself more and more.

“But since there’s a good chance she’ll actually look at me since I’m going with Sutan, I have to stay on theme without being flashy or cheap or one of the million other things she refuses to accept.”

“The bedazzling offer still stands,” Jovan smiled, taking the last bite of his afternoon muffin, and Violet rolled her eyes.

“How did you two meet anyway?” Maxwell took a sip of his coffee. “You and Sutan I mean.”

Bob perked up immediately, his stomach doing a happy flip.

“Oh?” Violet looked surprised, like she genuinely hadn’t expected them to be interested. “You want to hear about that?”

“Yes!” Bob grinned. “Yes yes yes yes.”

He and Maxwell had been discussing how to get Violet to spill the dirt the entire week, and now, the chance was finally here.

“Well.” Violet paused, tapping her fingers on the table, like she was trying to decide if she should share, and Bob was about to burst with curiosity.

“Spill it!”

“He bought me a drink at the Vogue Fashion Fund, and asked me on a date a few days later.”

Bob waited for a beat, but Violet was simply smiling.

“What?! That’s it?!”

Of all the things Bob had imagined, this was by far the most disappointing answer.

“Pretty much.” Violet shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee with a glint in her eyes.

***

IVY: okay so you know i hate gossip

ROXY: Oh yeah me too gurl

IVY: lol

IVY: No really

ROXY: Yeah yeah whatcha got?

IVY: The dress Courtney’s wearing today?

ROXY: Oh yeah, she’s really upping her game

IVY: Well...it’s familiar…

ROXY: Oh yeah?

IVY: I asked Laganja to run some photos. Here’s BDR at last year’s Monsoon Foundation Charity Luncheon

[Picture: Bianca wearing the dress]

ROXY: BITCH!!!!!!!!111

***

“So yeah, these are the ones I like...what do you think?” Trixie asked, chewing nervously on the inside of his cheek. “I really need to find someone that Fame will love, she was so annoyed at the last batch.”

As Pearl picked up one of the portfolios to glance through it, she couldn’t help but notice how rough her friend looked, like he hadn’t slept in a week. He probably hadn’t, she realized, the tension in the apartment so thick you could cut it with a knife. She’d been trying to give them both space, but maybe that wasn’t a good idea.

“So, um…” She looked through the first portfolio and then picked up the next one, pausing on pages she found interesting. “Is everything okay? How are you?”

“Uhh…” Trixie scratched his head, then finally said, “It’s been a hard week.”

“I’m sorry, man.”

“It’s okay,” Trixie sighed. “We’ve got our- She’s got an appointment with a doctor tomorrow. So I guess, after that, we’ll know for sure.”

“Right.”

He didn’t seem to want to talk about it any more, so Pearl dropped the subject for the moment. She pointed to one of the photos, a stunning blue piece with dramatic shoulders, exactly the type of shapes to which Fame was generally drawn.

“This is amazing.”

“Yeah, right? She seems super talented, although I worry that she’s only been out of school for less than a year. A little green, a little…” Trixie sighed again, “Over-confident sounds mean, but…over-confident.”

“Have you spoken to all of them yet?”

“Yeah, Rita checked all their references and I had Skype interviews with all the top candidates this morning. We’re trying to move quickly, I really need to get the ball rolling before we shut down for the holidays. And with the added bonus of getting them a visa...it could be a mess. Anyway, these are the very best, but I don’t want to put them in front of Fame unless they’re actually gonna impress her.”

“Uh huh. One question though…”

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for another sociopath, or are we moving in a new direction?” Pearl asked, a teasing smirk on her face.

“You’re hilarious,” Trixie deadpanned.

“I know.” Pearl tapped on the folder, saying, “I think this one is special. There’s a lot of range, and new ideas, but very classic and chic at the same time.”

***

“Ho...ly shit…” Bianca said, the door to her town car open, watching Courtney twirl in her new coat, then open it to give her a peek at the sexy sequined mini-dress underneath. Bianca pulled her into the car, giggling, a hand immediately sliding up her bare thigh.

She was mildly surprised when her fingers came into contact with soft cotton instead of the sexy lace she’d been wearing.

“Wow, these feel...breathable.”

Courtney laughed. “Yeah, well, I’m out of fancy underwear until my next trip to the laundromat. Sorry about it.”

“Nah, I like them. Reminds me of college.” She flashed a grin at Courtney, who was now straddling her on the leather seat, arms around her neck.

“Yeah?” Courtney tilted her head, teasingly evading a kiss as Bianca chased her lips.

“Mmm…” Bianca’s fingers slipped into the panties, squeezing her ass.

“I like this, too…” Bianca’s own coat was unbuttoned since the driver had the heat on full blast, and Courtney ran her thumb along the neckline of her blazer. “You look so sexy…”

Bianca said nothing, just gave her a wicked smirk, lips finally coming into contact with her neck, lingering there, hot breath against her pulse point making her whimper.

“We should probably wait until after the-” Courtney inhaled sharply, clutching Bianca’s shoulders. “-after the party.”

“Alright, alright…” Bianca acquiesced, pressing a soft kiss to her lips and removing her hands. “I can be good if you can.”

“Debatable,” Courtney responded, her eyes flashing with a naughty glint as she sat down beside Bianca, snuggling up against her.

“It’ll be a fun little experiment.”

***

Violet was standing in Sutan’s closet in her pajamas, flipping through her clothes, her lip between her teeth.

None of it looked right, and Violet had given up on even trying on the dress she had originally gotten to go as Fame’s assistant, the skirt's mermaid cut making it impossible to move in with her crutches.

If her foot hadn’t been broken, she would have trawled her preferred vintage shops weeks ago, or would even have made a dress herself, but the party was in two days, and because of Bianca’s birthday, she couldn’t even empty her savings account to get a dress that could live up to the expectations of a Galactica party.

She was completely, and utterly, fucked.

“Fuck,” Violet sighed, dumping down in the arm chair Sutan had been sweet enough to move to his closet so she could sit.

“Violet? Are you okay?”

Violet cursed to herself, Sutan naturally catching her at a moment where it absolutely did not suit her.

“I’m okay!”

But of course, it wasn’t in Sutan’s nature to leave her alone, her boyfriends head poking through the door seconds later, a concerned expression on his dumb face.

“What’s gotten into you?” Sutan was fresh from the shower, his black and grey hair in an unstyled cloud around his head.

“You’re going to laugh.” Violet crossed her arms, the annoyance still under her skin, rolling around her body.

“Try me.” Sutan stepped inside, a towel wrapped around his hips, his hand holding it in place.

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

Sutan snorted, and Violet pointed at him.

“See!” She exclaimed. “Don’t make fun of me!”

“Okay, okay, I admit that wasn’t my greatest moment,” Sutan chuckled, giving her a quick apology kiss, Violet sinking back into the chair as he walked over to his dresser. “but the good news is that your problem is easily fixable.”

“I can’t just go out and buy a new dress.” Violet tried not to roll her eyes, tried not to make this a fight, but it was like Sutan had decided to press every single button she had. “I can’t afford it.”

Sure, she had gotten a pay bump after moving to design, but she had already used her December budget on Christmas gifts for everyone, actually spending the day with people so much more expensive than what she usually did, which was a movie on her ancient laptop and wine by herself.

“Who says you have to pay for it?” Sutan pulled a pair of pajama pants out, throwing his towel to the side, now naked which would have been weird if Violet hadn’t been used to years of dressing rooms. “I’m planning on getting a new suit anyway,” Sutan balanced on one leg, pulling the pants on, “and the shoppers at Barney’s are great at what they do.”

“Are you serious?”

“What makes you think I’m not?” Violet watched as Sutan pulled a t-shirt on too, running a hand through the hair Violet knew he’d struggle to style in the morning, but that he was also done dealing with it for the night.

“I don’t want your money.” Violet sighed, sitting up in the chair, Sutan finally ready for bed.

She liked staying with Sutan, she really did, the man kinder and more generous than Violet could ever have imagined, but she was also longing to go back to her own place, to have her own space and to spend time completely alone.

She knew her apartment wasn’t much, that it didn’t have air condition or an elevator, that she didn’t have a memory foam mattress or a dishwasher or a housekeeper that came to clean, but it was hers.

Violet knew a psychiatrist would probably consider her need for independence a flaw, something she should work on, but she didn’t want to rely on anyone ever, not even Sutan.

“I can figure it out.”

“Oh that, I don’t doubt,” Sutan smiled, holding a hand out to help Violet out of the chair. “But there is a difference,” Sutan pulled, his hand finding her hip as soon as she was upright. “Between being prideful and being stubborn, lovely eyes.”

Violet shot him a look, and Sutan laughed, giving her nose a quick kiss.

“I’m offering to buy you dresses, not a penthouse.”

Violet opened her mouth to protest, but for once, Sutan was faster.

“You’re going to several parties for my sake. Let me spend money on you.” Sutan rubbed his thumb up and down, gently caressing Violet’s hip. “Please?”

“I’ll consider it.”

***

Being at this elite music industry party with Bianca was thrilling, and Courtney was on cloud nine. She was beside herself with excitement when she got to meet Charlie Hides, unable to stop herself from gushing about her work on Tove Lo’s album.

“Well thank you, darling,” Charlie said.

“Courtney’s a singer too,” Bianca added, and Charlie’s face perked up a bit.

“Oh yeah?”

“Well, aspiring,” Courtney couldn’t help admitting, immediately kicking herself for her inability to fake it.

“She’s incredibly talented,” Bianca said, a hand touching Courtney’s elbow, grounding her.

“You should send me your demo,” Charlie said, picking up two glasses of champagne from a passing tray and handing them over.

“Really? Thank you so much!” Courtney exclaimed, momentarily forgetting that she didn’t have a demo.

“Sure thing,” Charlie said with a grin, before excusing herself to greet another guest. Before she left, she gave Bianca a hug, muttering, “Very cute, B.”

After she walked away, Bianca turned to Courtney with a smirk. “She’s subtle, huh?”

“I think I’m gonna pass out,” Courtney said, and Bianca squeezed her hand.

“You’ll be fine. You’re doing great,” she assured her. “I see another producer I know, let’s say hello. Olivia!”

She waved across the party to a beautiful Black woman with the most fabulous hair Courtney had ever seen in her life. The woman looked up, sending Bianca a beaming smile as she crossed the room to greet her.

“Bianca!”

“Hey Liv, I haven’t seen you in forever!” Bianca said, giving her a hug.

“I know! I’ve been in L.A. for most of the year. Just decided to come back to New York in time for this delightful gray sleet we’ve been having,” Olivia said, that dazzling smile softening her words.

Bianca laughed, turning to Courtney.

“Court, Olivia Lux is an awesome producer. Liv, this my friend Courtney. She’s a singer.”

“Hi!” Courtney prepared for a handshake or some air kisses, only to be swept up into a warm hug. “So nice to meet you!”

“Charlie wants to hear a demo, but she hasn’t gotten the chance to record anything yet,” Bianca said. “Any chance you’re free? Or are you still booked up solid until the end of days?”

“No, I’ve got some time in January. What kind of music do you do, sweetie?” Olivia asked, turning to Courtney with that lovely smile.

“Um… Well, I guess it’s kind of like… Pop, but kind of folk?” Courtney said, trying to think on her feet. “Like Joni Mitchell meets Kylie Minogue?”

“Sounds absolutely glorious!” Olivia said, and Courtney felt her confidence grow. “I know what it’s like when you’re starting out. That shit is terrifying.”

“I’m gonna go grab us some drinks…You two have fun,” Bianca said, leaving Courtney Olivia to talk shop.

After a couple of minutes, Courtney found herself feeling like she was with an old friend. She was just so warm and open, telling Courtney about her own career as first a recording artist, then a producer and composer, making her feel completely at ease--and shockingly interested in Courtney’s own musical taste. When Bianca returned with three cocktails, Olivia put an arm around Courtney and told her, “I’m in love with your friend.”

“Oh yeah?” Bianca said, amused. She handed them both drinks, adding, “Glad you guys are getting along.”

“Getting along? We’re gonna elope,” Olivia said, and Courtney giggled, smiling brightly, happy to have found someone so kind and down to earth.

“Mazel Tov,” said Bianca, giving Courtney a wink.

“Seriously though,” Olivia said, turning to flash Courtney that megawatt smile again. “Why don’t you hit me up and we’ll arrange for you to come into the studio?”

“That would be amazing!” said Courtney. She was so happy, she had to fight an urge to kiss the bottom of Olivia’s glittery heels.

“Perfect!” Olivia said, leaving them both with another round of hugs.

“That went well,” Bianca said, smirking at Courtney over the top of her glass.

“Yeah!”

“Come on, I want you to meet my friend Derrick. She’s a choreographer…”

Later, after about the 20th intro, Courtney began to catch on to a troubling pattern.

“Hey guys! This is my friend Courtney…”

“Meet my friend Courtney…”

“Courtney’s a friend of my sister.”

Friend, friend, friend...

At no point, to anyone, did Bianca say (or even imply) that there was something going on between them-- and Courtney wasn’t sure what to make of it. It wasn’t like she expected for Bianca to call her “my girlfriend.”

They hadn’t had that conversation, and something told Courtney that after tonight, it was a long way off.

She tried to put it right out of her head, though, and focus on the positive. She was at a great party, meeting a ton of music industry professionals, and yeah, maybe Bianca called her “friend” about 800 times, but friends were good, right? Especially considering how much Bianca loved her friends.

She continued to enjoy herself, greeting people, trying her best to learn their names, and just being grateful that Bianca had even brought her through the door. So what if she didn’t want people to know about their relationship? Or if this was just a casual fling for her? She was still doing more for Courtney and being more supportive than anyone she’d ever known.

It was close to 2 am when Bianca put a hand on her lower back and leaned in close--the most intimate gesture since they’d walked in the door.

“You ready to take off?” Bianca whispered.

“Sure,” Courtney said, slightly relieved since she could feel her own energy fading, and knew that making it to work by 7:45 the next day would be a struggle.

They said goodbye to Charlie and grabbed their coats, making their way downstairs to the waiting towncar. It wasn’t until they were on their way that Courtney really let everything hit her, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I…” Courtney swallowed.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“You sure about that? What’s wrong?”

Courtney shook her head vigorously as traitorous tears slipped down her cheek. “Nothing’s wrong, everything’s perfect.” She wiped her face, disgusted with herself.

“Then why are you crying, angel?”

“Because…” Courtney squeezed her eyes shut, positive that she was about to ruin everything. “Because you’re just…making all my dreams come true.”

“Okay. Yeah, I can see how that would be upsetting.”

“No, it’s just…I'm scared, that it’s all gonna disappear,” Courtney said, now unable to hold back the river of tears. “You’re gonna get bored, or meet someone else, and I…I’m falling for you so hard and I know it’s too fast and I-”

“Hey, look at me.”

Courtney turned to her, eyes liquid, sniffling.

“I have been having…the best time with you,” she said, taking one of Courtney’s hands in both of hers. “And I know that it’s still new, but I said that I’d help you with your career and I will. No matter what happens with us. I promise. And I don’t break promises. Okay?”

Courtney nodded slightly, then asked, “Why don’t you want people to know about us? Are you ashamed? Are you just...already looking for a way out?”

“What?”

“You just kept introducing me as your ‘friend’ all night, and I just thought that it meant you don’t care about us, or that-”

“No! I dunno, I guess we haven’t really talked about labels, and I wanted to make sure everyone took you seriously,” Bianca said. “Took your talent seriously.”

“Oh.” Courtney sniffled, feeling a little stupid for letting her insecurites get the better of her.

“Also…you know, a lot of the people there were…mutual friends of…”

“Of?”

Bianca sighed slightly, a sheepish smile on her face, then said, “I guess it’s time to come clean to Fame and Raja, huh?”

“Really?” Courtney looked at her with surprise.

“Well, yeah. I don’t want us to feel like we’re sneaking around. That shit gets old real fast.” Bianca kissed the back of her hand. “I’ve been selfish, I was trying to do this without getting them annoyed at me, but…It’s not worth it if it makes you feel like I don’t care. Because I do.”

Courtney bit her lip, feeling like she might burst into tears again, but this time from joy. She took a deep breath, trying to get her racing heart to calm down.

“When do you want to tell them?”

“Well…the Galactica party’s on Thursday. Wanna be my date?” Bianca asked, a sly smile deepening her dimples.

Of course, they’d both been planning to go to the party, but Courtney had resigned herself to the idea that they’d be there separately. She’d even asked Tati to come as her plus one, not believing for a second that going with Bianca was a possibility. After all, it was so soon.

“That’s in two days!” Courtney exclaimed, eyes wide.

“Yeah… Does that work for you?”

For a second, Courtney felt almost dizzy, imagining walking into the party on Bianca’s arm. There was no way in hell that it wouldn’t cause a stir...but the idea of everyone seeing them together, while a bit frightening, was also terribly exciting.

“Okay. Yeah, that sounds...perfect,” she said, eyes shining happily.

“Okay then,” Bianca said softly, pressing a kiss to Courtney’s cheek.

6 notes · View notes

1kook · 4 years

Text

netflix & chill

summary If you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality. warnings grinding, 2 seconds of sub kook, oral (f), cum eating, vanilla but [ passionate ], unprotected sex, dirty talk tags use of the oldest trick in the book (“your hands are sooo big”), shy oblivious AND gentleman jk? pick a struggle, brief ment of app developer kook, evil and conniving oc wc 10.2k !! wow!!

will I ever write a serious jk fic? NO. this entire thing was based off this pic of jungkook which i’ve said before that i would print out in sepia filter and crumple and stuff in a drawer n then tell my kids 35 years from now was a long lost lover i met on a cruise to the bahamas and never saw again ty to mia more @daechwlta for being there during my brief crisis over this fic 🥺

When Namjoon had first not so subtly mentioned the idea of setting you up on a date, it was with a faux air of disinterest that you had masterfully pried the details out of him. Namjoon has a friend, he said, a friend who was kinda sorta attached to his hip. And while Namjoon loved the kid, he also thought this friend could use some social interaction outside of Namjoon.

Now you and Namjoon weren’t exactly the most conventional of friends for him to be proposing blind dates to you at whim. He was your senior at school, your mentor in your scholarship program, an educated man studying for his masters. So when he’d first uttered the words you were immediately on the fence. Sure, the two of you knew each other well and probably got along better than most mentor-mentee pairings among your year, but you doubt Namjoon knew enough of your tastes to offer you up for a blind date.

According to Namjoon, his friend was a kid in the same year as you, making him not so much as a kid as he was your classmate. You brushed it off at first, spewing some bullshit excuse that you’d rather focus on your studies, and how dating was a distraction to your education, as if you hadn’t spent the weekend prior binge watching some Spanish novella while you dutifully ignored your essay.

The second time Namjoon mentions it you agree on the spot. Life on campus could only be interesting for so long, so you might as well make the best of it and go on as many stupid dates as possible.

Namjoon is over the moon.

He tells you he’ll pass your phone number on over to that friend of his—“Jeon Jungkook”—and promises you you won’t regret this because his friend was amazing, really. And for Namjoon to sing his praises for just any underclassmen was unheard of. In fact, besides you, you don’t think Namjoon knows many other students younger than him, and if he did, you hardly doubt he would regard them so highly.

So he gives his friend your number, and so ends your weekly meeting with your mentor. You only realize on the walk back to your dorm that you forgot to ask him about some club at school, the whole goal of this week’s meeting, but by then you don’t really care, the whole conversation fading into the background.

In fact, you forget about the whole ordeal until Friday night rolls around and you’re once again, binge watching another novella on your laptop, when your phone suddenly vibrates.

You were by no means a loser at school, a friendless nobody, but you were also not the outgoing, school-spirited student on the front page of your school’s website, and thus had nearly every app that could produce a notification on your phone muted, every text thread silenced. The only notifications and messages you allowed were from your email and from your roommate, and considering the fact Doyeon was face down in a puddle of her own mid-semester tears right across from you, it was probably your email.

Much to your surprises, it isn’t that “Monday’s Class is CANCELLED” email you were hoping for, but instead some unknown number in a text notification. You roll your eyes, click it open thinking it’s a reminder from some store or from some guy claiming to be from your bank, only to pause at the words written inside the little grey bubble.

hey its jungkook!!! joon gave me your number to I guess ask you on a date soo are you free tmrw night??

The excessive punctuation reminds you a little bit of your kid sister back home and the dorky emails she’ll send you from time to time. It’s with that memory and a smile on your face, that you’re suddenly reminded of what exactly this message is saying. “Oh shit,” you mumble, moving to sit up and reread the text. Doyeon complaining loudly in the background has you reading it twice more before you understand it, and by then there’s a fluttery feeling in your chest.

You were by no means easily swayed by people, but this guy had received praise from Kim Namjoon of all people, so he definitely had some prestige to his name. He doesn’t seem overbearing from this one text he’d sent, but he also didn’t seem completely disinterested.

You try to match his nonchalant energy, letting him know you were in fact free and down to meet him, just to let you know more details.

You won’t lie, there’s a giddy feeling bubbling within you at the prospect of getting all dolled up, hitting the town, pawning a free meal off some unsuspecting college soul, and maybe even hitting it off. It’s been a while since you’ve dated, sue you.

Jeon Jungkook’s response crushes those dreams as well as hurdles you straight into a nightmare.

cool!! was thinking i could cook for us at my place, drink a little wine, maybe Netflix and chill a little bit??

You are blown away by the absolute gall of this man, to butter you up by painting a pretty picture only to reduce you to a mere booty call. The fact he had felt confident enough to say all that within the same sentence blows your mind.

Did this Jeon Jungkook, who you had no idea of what he looked like, who had no idea of what you looked like, seriously just invite you over for some quote unquote Netflix and chill?

Who, in the ever living hell, was this guy who so sleazily invited women over to fuck with no qualms about who they were?

You’re offended that Namjoon would set you up like this, pawn you off to such a greasy friend. But then again, you guess not everyone knows their friends thoroughly, because this Jeon Jungkook flirtatiously inviting your over for some sex sounds nothing like the golden boy Kim Namjoon had raved about earlier this week. You click your phone off, tapping the device against your lips as you ponder how to best rip this jerk to shreds via text.

It’s amidst Doyeon cursing out her statistics teacher that an idea hits you.

Tomorrow was Saturday night, and as far as you knew, you really didn’t have anything else going on for you anyway. You’d take Jeon Jungkook’s offer, let him cook you a free meal and drink some of his wine. He mentioned having his own place, and vaguely you remember Namjoon saying he lived alone, hence his introverted tendencies, so you could slip in and out without doing that walk of shame through a boy’s dorm hall.

Not that there would be anything to feel shameful about. In fact, if you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality.

Ha! That would certainly teach the asshole not to use his poor, unsuspecting friends to reel in nice girls like you into one night stands.

You could practically feel the devil horns begging to poke out of your skull, the forked tail wiggling behind you, as you click your phone back on and text Jeon Jungkook a great!! what’s your address :)

——

Saturday morning and afternoon are as boring as they usually are. You do a little homework, and spend thirty minutes filling Doyeon in on your master plan, which she eats up and even gives you some pointers—“and then you can be like, ‘you sick freak, as if I’d let you near this 5-star, Michelin reviewed, Gordon Ramsey approved coochie’ and throw the whole plate at his head!”—before getting ready for your little date at Jeon Jungkook’s.

You try hard to look good, harder than you would have if he hadn’t offended you by reducing you to a booty call, and Doyeon helps. She does your eyebrows all nice and natural, dusts the thinnest shin of liquid highlighter across the high points of your face, the whole shebang until you’re looking like a sexy, glowing goddess. You shimmy into a pretty dress, nothing too fancy nor too casual, and even pull on those strappy sandals you’d bought on sale last winter before blowing a kiss to Doyeon and meeting your Uber downstairs.

You don’t quite remember what the reason behind Jeon Jungkook living in such a swanky neighborhood a few minutes from campus was, if it was from a job you vaguely recall Namjoon mentioning, or if it was just purely hereditary, but his place is nice. It’s a connected townhouse, something you’d expect a newly wed couple to live in and not some douchebag third year.

Worse comes to worse, you get banned from this rich neighborhood after humiliating one of its residents in his own home, not that you’d ever make it big enough to live here anyway.

You’d texted Namjoon sometime that morning to let him know you were meeting his friend, an ominous text with an even more ominous smiley face attached to it. But it seems Namjoon is easily blinded by underclassmen he trusts, if Jeon Jungkook’s assholish feats and your own suspicious behavior is anything to go by, because he texts you back a polite have fun! he’s a little shy, so it might take a while for the ball to start rolling hahahaha.

Shy my ass, you think closing the door of your Uber behind you. You double check the address that had been texted to you, walking up to the neat townhouse and knocking against the polished door.

It’s a little chilly, and you hope finding an Uber is easier later tonight when you make your grand escape. It’s between these thoughts that the door swings open, revealing the most handsome man you’ve ever met.

He’s attractive, disgustingly so, with dark hair and light brown tips to contrast, tickling his cheekbones. His dark eyes are round and imploring as they meet yours, gaze almost innocent and doe like as he takes you in. He’s got this soft, blue turtleneck on, and it looks like it should be a seasonal sweater reserved for the holidays but he pulls it off nicely on this premature spring night. His pretty pink lips move, and it takes you a second to realize he’s talking.

“___?” He says, and his voice is deep, yet soft in its own unique way. You nod, like a stupid bobble head, because your throat constricted the moment this beautiful angel opened the door. “It’s cold outside, come in!” He urges you, out stretching his palm to make sure you don’t trip over the slight step up the door as he brings you into his home.

“Hi,” he exhales when you’re finally inside, standing a little too close to you in his small entryway.

“Hi,” you finally choke out, a little dazed by how handsome he is, and the sudden realization that you’re supposed to throw your glass of wine at him tonight because he’s a douchebag dawns on you. You blink yourself out of your stupor, taking a step back and gesturing towards your sandal clad feet.

“Oh!” Jeon Jungkook exclaims at the sudden realization. “I forgot to set out a pair of slippers for you,” he sheepishly admits, before he excuses himself to go get some. There’s a tiny ottoman pushed against the wall, beneath a long mirror, that you take a seat on it, carefully unstrapping your sandals.

All the while, you’re deep in thought.

It makes sense that someone like Jeon Jungkook was so forward in inviting you over for sex during your first interaction. Realistically speaking, the guy had it all. He lived alone in a swanky townhouse in a wealthy neighborhood (you finally remember Namjoon saying he did some app developing for major companies—yeah, still in college but already making it big because he was that good), and looked like the blueprint for the perfect man, someone who’d impress your parents. On top of that, the man was was a 21st century Adonis. You hadn’t missed the flash of ink on his knuckles, or the way his jeans had hugged his legs.

He’s making his way back now, inspecting the slippers in his hands, and you don’t miss the way the jeans are pulled taut around his thighs in particular.

Yeah, he definitely knew his way around a woman’s body, there was no way he couldn’t have.

You slip your feet into the slippers he places before you, wiggling your toes around, before glancing back at Jungkook. He smiles warmly, a little beauty mark beneath his lip making itself known. He takes your hand, pulls you up onto your feet, and begins guiding you down the hall and to what you assume is the kitchen.

“I didn’t know what you liked, and I figured asking you three hours before you came over would be too awkward,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He glances at you again, and upon seeing your inquisitive stare, quickly turns away with flushed cheeks.

Oh this man knew the game, and he knew it well.

Jeon Jungkook still thinks he can play that cute campus boy being set up by his senior card now, after he’d shown you his true colors last night via text. But he has a big storm coming. As much as you could admit he was good to look at, you would not be fooled by some pretty face and tasty food. No, you came here with one goal and one goal only, and that was to give Jeon Jungkook a piece of his own two-faced medicine before running off to tattle to Namjoon.

You reach the kitchen and the heavenly smell of Alfredo sauce swarms your nostrils. “I… I’m still new to cooking, so I hope you don’t mind some Alfredo pasta,” he admits, shy smile adorning his features as he avoids your gaze once again to toy with the dish towel by the sink.

You creep closer to the counter, where two meticulously presented ceramic plates sit beside a wine bottle, and the glands in your mouth suddenly go into overdrive in their rush to make you salivate, and you choke out an overly eager, “it looks amazing!” before you know it.

Okay, you came here with two goals.

——

Jungkook carries the two bowls in his big hands to the dining room beside the kitchen, and you follow behind with the bottle of wine and two glasses as you set the table together. The utensils are already there, but Jungkook runs back into the kitchen anyway to return with some fancy cloth napkins for the two of you.

Just as you're tugging a chair out to sit, Jungkook beats you to it. “Ah, let me,” he smiles, and your heart thunders nervously in your chest as you return the expression, brushing your hands beneath you before sitting down and letting him push you in. Jungkook takes his own seat in front of you, and before you can dig in he calls out to seemingly nobody, “Alexa, dim the dining room lights.”

The overhead lights dim, and with their overbearing glow gone, you can finally appreciate the battery powered candles snuggled neatly into a little bowl on the table between you two. You ooh appreciatively, and Jungkook looks proud of himself.

Then, he says, “Alexa, play…Date Night Playlist.”

You blink, and a soft piano tune begins filtering through a speaker he’s hidden somewhere in the room. Even with the fake candles being your main source of light, the flush on Jungkook’s cheeks is evident as he gestures towards you to eat.

You won’t lie. Jeon Jungkook was extremely endearing.

This much becomes evident the further you get into the meal. As small talk devolves into full fledged conversations and story telling, his shy demeanor slipping away but still sticking to the edges of his personality, you begin to have a more difficult time connecting this Jungkook to the one who had less than 24 hours ago asked you to come over and “Netflix and chill” with him.

But the more you speak, the more distant that image begins to feel. For one, Jungkook does put on a fairly reserved aura for you, telling you about his job but refusing to brag about it even when you egg him on. He has no qualms gassing up his friends, Namjoon in particular, who Jungkook claims is his role model for some unknown reason, given the fact they are neither in the same major nor in any of the same clubs. They’re friends, point blank period, but Namjoon is very obviously a star in Jungkook’s eyes.

Additionally, he’s quite embarrassed to admit why Namjoon had been so set on getting Jungkook to date, but eventually tells you it’s because Jungkook’s last girlfriend had been during your freshman year—two whole years ago! It makes you wonder what he’d been doing since then, if he’d used the time to fully invest in his work or if he’d been mingling around, unbeknownst to his friends, which would explain the flirtatious offer that landed you here.

Still, a part of you refuses to believe last night’s Jungkook and tonight’s Jungkook were one in the same, and if they were, what had made this shy man so unabashedly invite you over for some sex. Was this act all a ploy? Or maybe, was he purposefully trying to ward you away by coming off as a gentleman now that he’d seen your face and wasn’t interested in you anymore?

Apparently it’s neither of the two, and you don’t realize this until you finish your meal and make your way into his living room to finally get down to the long awaited Netflix and chilling. It’s only when you sit down on the couch, smack dab in the middle, because at this point, you’re not gonna throw your wine at Jeon Jungkook like you planned, he was too nice. And if this niceness was an act to get in your panties, you didn’t care at this point. He was hot, achingly so, and at least you’d get a good fuck out of it.

But as you said, apparently not. Because Jeon Jungkook sees you purposefully take up the entire middle of the couch, sultry eyes staring him down, and decides to sit flush against the armrest, somehow leaving a good foot between the two of you, despite the fact you’re sitting next to each other.

Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend the situation, before he’s asking you what you want to watch. “Um,” you say, pointedly staring at him and not the screen. “Tr-Transformers?”

The way Jungkook’s eyes light up is insane, already round eyes nearly popping out of their sockets as he eagerly rushes to select it from whatever streaming service he has, probably not even Netflix, all the while chattering on about how much he loves that series, and is so glad you do too.

The whole time, you’re struck by the oddness of his casual tone, the way he’s overly invested in the 20th Century Fox opening, and how he’s very carefully avoiding intruding in on your personal space.

The last point in particular has you wanting to pull your hair out, because you want Jeon Jungkook intruding in on your personal space. You want him pressed so tightly against you you can’t breathe, you can’t move, until you’re drowning in him as he finally lives up to his promise of some Netflix and chill, because you want him, and you want him so. very. bad.

“Oh, I forgot the popcorn!” Jungkook exclaims, and you jump at the sudden volume of his voice, because he’d been pretty silent as he avidly watched the first few minutes of the movie. “Sorry,” he chuckles, and his leg brushes against yours as he shuffles between you and the coffee table on his way out. You vaguely hear the popping of the popcorn in the kitchen, but you’re too distracted by your suddenly overwhelming thoughts.

Okay, one thing was for sure, and that was that Jeon Jungkook definitely had no fucking idea what the phrase Netflix and chill meant, because the way he’d zeroed in on the movie and the popcorn, and not you, was unheard of on such invitations. You deduce he probably heard it somewhere, and, now understanding the true nature of Jungkook’s sweet and shy personality, made no such perverted connection to the phrase.

Which meant he most definitely did not demean you to a mere booty call, like you’d deluded yourself into believing, someone he could hump and dump with no regrets, before calling Namjoon up to thank him. Which meant he’d had no ulterior motives in meeting you tonight, just planning to get to know you at the suggestion of his friend, and had—unbeknownst to him—successfully wooed you thus far.

Which was great! If you turned a blind eye to the evil, conniving plans you’d made without even meeting the guy, and the subsequent flood of self-inflicted disapproval when you realized Jeon Jungkook was a sweetheart who definitely did not deserve having a glass of wine thrown at his face after making you a home cooked meal and giving you the full Olive Garden experience, with his dimmed lights and candlelit dinner and piano music on the background.

Yeah. Perfectly fine.

The only problem now was that you had become so dangerously smitten with the man that you wanted to sleep with him. You wanted that Netflix and chill, needed it like it was the last slot in a daycare class and you were a soccer mom of five wanting to get at least one kid out of the house for the summer for the sake of her own sanity. You were desperate.

No, you scold yourself. This was fine, this was good, this was perfectly okay. If anything, this just further made you enamored with Jungkook, because it proved how gentlemanly he was by not trying to sleep with you on the first date.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, the devil on your shoulder crooned.

The microwave in the kitchen stops, and you hear the sound of cabinets opening as Jungkook pours the popcorn into a bowl. On screen, the main character is meeting a bunch of giant cars-turned-robots, you don’t fucking know.

But the devil was right.

Jungkook hadn’t offered to sleep with you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. Furthermore, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be seduced into wanting to, your evil brain suggested, and the hope that had slithered it’s way into your chest from the very moment Jungkook had opened the door, took that fact and ran with it.

“What’d I miss?” Jungkook says when he returns, popcorn bowl in hand.

“Oh, um, he was with the car,” you offer, trying to stop the nefarious smirk from slipping onto your features. Jungkook laughs, cute and airy as he shuffles past you.

He’s too absorbed in the screen, not looking as he sits down, closer than last time until his thigh brushes yours and he jerks back in embarrassment. “Oh, sorry,” he flounders, goes to move away but you act fast.

You grab onto his upper arm with both of yours like an octopus, keeping him flush to you as you gaze up at him with wide eyes. “No, it’s okay,” you rush to assure him, loosening your hold as he tentatively relaxes beside you. You glance down at the popcorn bowl in his hand, swiping a piece to pop between your lips. “It’s easier for us this way,” you say, and you’re pulling that straight out of your ass, because you hate popcorn and have literally zero desire for it and wouldn’t have reached for it anyway if you weren’t trying to convince him this was all for popcorn sharing purposes.

Jungkook’s eyes briefly flicker down to where you’re munching on that popcorn, your lips, before he’s quickly averting his gaze. “Ah, y-yeah,” he agrees, and though he tries to relax back into the couch, you can still feel the tension of his muscles as he settles beside you.

With his eyes no longer trained on you, you snuggle closer into his side resting your cheek against the soft material covering his shoulder, finally letting that devious smirk slip onto your face. You keep yourself close to Jungkook, loving the way his warmth permeates the thick sweater he’s wearing, even if he’s still overly into the movie. You know he’s seen it before, because he keeps telling you random tidbits like, “they use this in the next movie!” Or “he ends up becoming really important in the sixth movie,” and you want to listen to this endearing nerd’s commentary, you really do, but once your brain is stuck on horny, it is stuck on horny.

He doesn’t even eat a lot of popcorn, setting it down not ten minutes later onto the coffee table. You release him as he moves forward, but quickly latch onto him again when he sits back down.

Much to your surprise, Jungkook is way more relaxed then, shrugging you off to rest his hand on the couch behind you, and you inwardly squeal at the prospect of getting to cuddle up to his body, and not just his arm. You cuddle in close to him, leaving your slippers on the ground as you tuck your legs up onto the couch cushions.

Jungkook is so warm and firm, and you know it’s your horny brain speaking, but you swear you feel a tight set of abs underneath the palm you rest on his stomach, and you give an experimental brush over the area. His heart picks up, you hear it by where your head is leaning against his chest, and you tilt your head up to give him a curious glance. His cheeks are red, and he doesn’t look at you even though you know he sees you, so you decide to kick things up a notch.

You sigh loudly, peeling yourself away from him to properly level him with a pout. “Jungkook, aren’t you hot in this?” You ask, pinching the wooly material between two fingers and pulling it from his skin. Jungkook finally looks away from the screen, nibbling his lower lip as he takes in your quizzical expression.

“Um, only a little… but it’s fine!” He rushes to say, and you recall from your conversations over dinner that Jungkook doesn’t much like people fussing over him, so you quickly change gears.

You press a hand against your cheek, the same one that had been resting against his shoulder earlier. “Oh, well… it’s really itchy,” you announce, and his eyes widen, one hand absentmindedly reaching to clutch the material at his chest. “It’s making me really itchy,” you emphasize, and part of you feels bad for taking advantage of his caring nature, but this is all for the greater good, you convince yourself. “Do you mind taking it off?”

“I, uh, yeah,” he agrees, reaching for the hem of his sweater before carefully peeling it off. When he pulls it over his head, you can’t help the triumphant grin that overtakes your face, though you quickly mask it when he finally frees himself from the material. “Better?” He says once he’s clad in only a plain black shirt.

“Mm, much,” you sigh, and nearly soak your panties then and there when a tattooed sleeve comes into view. “Woah!” You exclaim, snatching his wrists up to examine his skin. “What’s this?” You marvel, tracing every inch of delicious skin with your predatory gaze. Jungkook huffs out a laugh, and you glance up to watch as he rubs the back of his neck in that same embarrassed way he’d done multiple times throughout your night together.

“My tattoos,” he says, and then seems to realize the simplicity of his statement and rushes to add to it, “I hope you don’t mind?”

You hum, shifting onto your knees to face him as you continue tracing over a huge tiger lily by his forearm. “Why would I? It’s your body,” you say, and watch the nervous glance melt off his face as he regards you with something new. Something akin to wonder as he lets you trace over more of his ink, nodding along to your words.

“Yeah… yeah!” He agrees, and you grin at his sudden zeal. He chuckles, physically relaxing beneath your touch, and it’s probably the most relaxed he’s been all night as you continue rubbing your hands over every tattoo on his skin, and then purposefully focusing on the ones near his bicep. “Sorry, ‘m just used to people pushing off their own opinions about them onto me,” he explains, and for a moment, the horniness that had been fueling you all night fades away, and you let your hands trail down, past his wrist, until you’re sandwiching his hand between yours.

“Fuck what anyone else thinks,” you tell him, eyes hard as you imagine anyone imposing their stupid thoughts on Jungkook, who was too good for this world. “If you think they’re cool, then they're the coolest thing in the world.”

He smiles at you, and you’ve seen this smile about a million times tonight—when you first came in, when you talked about yourself at dinner, when you mentioned this stupid movie—but it has something swelling in your chest. Something too intimate for a first date, so you quickly move to repress it.

Glancing down at his hand in yours, littered with smaller tattoos across his knuckles, your brain whirls into action. Bringing it up between the two of you, you turn his hand over to line your palms up. “Wow, your hands are so big,” you sigh, slowly reverting back to dirty thoughts as you twist yours and Jungkook’s hands this way and that. He snorts, bends the tips of his fingers over yours just to hear you ooooh again.

“Yeah, they’re pretty big,” he agrees, completely ignoring the film playing on the screen, which is a huge win in your eyes considering how deeply he’d been watching it earlier.

Finally, you see an opening and pounce.

“Well, that means something else is pretty big too,” you murmur, chancing a glance up at his face. His face is the perfect definition of composed, and you can tell when exactly he processes your words because those little pink lips part in surprise, red slowly filling the apples of his cheeks. You let go of his palm, letting it slide between your fingers until it falls limp beside him.

Jungkook watches you with wide eyes, as you raise yourself up onto your knees. “Jungkook?” You mumble, giving him no warning before you’re throwing a leg across his lap, knees pressed into the couch on either side of his thighs.

“Y-Yes?” He stutters, brown hair falling away from his face as he stares up at you. You flash him a sweet smile, and you can tell it relaxes him because his fists unclench beside him.

“You’re a really nice boy,” you sigh, and when you’ve scooted your knees a little closer to his ridiculously thin waist, you finally let yourself sit. You find yourself right before his crotch, which he desperately tries to hide as he shifts around, but can’t with you on top of him. You let your hands flutter to rest at his shoulders, and he gulps. “You’re so sweet and cute,” you add, relish in the flush that climbs up to his ears. “But I’m a little sad you invited me over to Netflix and chill, but won’t do just that,” you pout, a finger tangling itself in a soft strand at the back of his head.

“Huh?” He stutters, eyes nearly bulging out when you wiggle around again. “I-I’m sorry?” He huffs, and when you move too close to his crotch, where his jeans are slowly growing more and more strained, he panics and reaches a hand out to steady your waist.

You feign confusion, flashing him another pout as you duck closer until your noses bump against each other. “You know what it means, don’t you, Jungkook?” You inquire, eyes falling dangerously lidded as you swallow up every inch of his appearances.

He stutters, hands moving up and down as if he doesn’t know where to put them anymore. But you know exactly where Jungkook can put those hands, and you waste no time catching his wrists in your hands to guide him towards your hips. “No?” He breathes, fingers flexing against you, and you smile sweetly at him.

“It means,” you purr, shifting forward until you’re flush against where you need him most. You can barely contain the whimper that climbs out of your throat when you finally feel the rough material of his jeans against your panties. “It means you wanna fuck, Jungkook,” you exhale, tossing your head back as your body basks in the slight reprieve, the way Jungkook squirms beneath you aiding greatly in providing that sensation you craved.

“It’s nothing more than an excuse,” you huff, placing a hand on the back of his neck to steady yourself. At your touch, Jungkook jolts, thighs jumping beneath you and you stifle another groan when the zipper of his jeans prods against your core. “For you to fuck my brains out while some s-stupid movie plays in the background.”

You’re not sure when, but sometime during that last explanation your hands had fully delved into the thick tresses of Jungkook’s hair. You give an experimental tug, and poor Jungkook, so lost in all that you’re telling him, lolls his head back for you easily until the long expanse of his neck is available, soft creamy skin yours for the taking.

You pounce, kissing the skin gently at first, before sprinkling in a handful of nibbles. He’s sensitive, devastatingly so, as he gasps at a particular suck. You suction your lips on the spot below his ear, carefully biting down on the skin as he unravels beneath you. “Will you do it, Jungkookie?” You murmur against the shell of his ear,

He nods eagerly, and his fingers hurt where he’s pressed them deep into your waist, like he’s trying to brand you as his with his mere strength alone. “Y-Yes,” he exhales, hips jerking when you swipe your tongue over the pretty mark you’d left on his perfect skin.

You smother your smirk against his neck, grinding down on him once again. “Yes what?” You tease, and let his strong hands roll you against him afterwards.

“Yes, I-I’ll…” he stumbles, eyes dazed as he watches you through hooded lids. You raise a brow at him, shifting in his lap. It’s enough to kickstart him back up, and he’s biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. “I’ll fuck you, I’ll fuck you just like you want,” he rambles. He surprises you when he begins rutting up against you, so animalistic and uncontrolled, nothing like the sweet Jungkook that had indulged you over dinner. “I’ll make you come, p-promise,” he rasps.

You smirk down at him, hoping he doesn’t see the metaphorical horns sticking out of your head the further he falls into your trap. Before he can say anything else, you surge forward, slotting your mouths together for the first time that night.

It’s no surprise that Jungkook kisses just like he speaks, carefully like he’s afraid one hard press of his lips will ward you off. His lips are smooth, a fact you’d hyper-fixated on all night as he spoke, but before you can ponder on that any further, something hot and wet is prodding at your lower lip.

The gasp you barely manage to contain ends up escaping anyway when Jungkook’s hand comes up to cup the side of your face, tilting your head to the side as his tongue slithers into your mouth. You become obsessed with the way he touches you, every bit the gentlemen he’d been all night, fingers just barely pressing into your cheek like he doesn’t want to mess up your makeup. His other hand, snuggly wrapped around your waist, pulls you tighter against him until your chests are pressed together.

And that tongue. That tongue of his that leaves no room for argument, quickly shutting down any attempts of yours to overtake him. He’s graceful about it too, one nudge enough to convince you he’s got this, he’ll take care of you. You whimper, a sound Jungkook swallows before he’s biting down on your lower lip.

When he pulls away, his lips are red and glossy, and you wonder if yours are too. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he sighs, gazing at you like he can’t believe you’re there in front of him.

Before you can say anything else, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck to brush kisses over your skin. “Let me eat you out,” he begs, but his voice is so silky and smooth that it doesn’t sound so much as a plea as much as it does a suggestion. He licks a stripe up your neck, and you jump in his hold.

It’s at this moment where the sudden realization hits you, the feeling of having the reins yanked out of your hands. You so vividly controlled every aspect of Jungkook just a few moments ago, when you’d had your own mouth on his neck, and carefully coaxed him into some sex.

But it seems Jeon Jungkook isn’t as soft or as pliable as you had dubbed him to be, and if the way he’s begun subtly rolling your hips into his crotch is any sign, he certainly wasn’t the submissive type either. Which leaves you wondering, exactly what type of person was Jungkook in bed?

Well, you had all night to figure that out.

“Hey,” he whines suddenly, ripping you out of your thoughts. You glance down at him, registering the bored set of his eyes and the unimpressed quirk of his lips. “Pay attention to me.”

You blink, lips twitching. You can barely muffle the giggle that tears itself from your throat, leaning your forehead on his shoulder as your body shakes at his suddenly childish words. Jungkook chuckles too, as if suddenly realizing how out of place his own statement was. “Sorry,” he smiles, cheeks pleasantly rosy and you can’t even stop yourself from kissing him silly.

Jungkook, bless his heart, let’s you rain down a good three kisses on him before he’s pushing you down on the couch beside him. There’s still a slight gleam in his eyes, but the rest of his face schools itself into a hungry expression as he drinks in your body laid out before him. “Let me eat you out?” He asks again, voice but a soft whisper.

You nod, heart beating loudly in your chest as he shuffles down until he can press a kiss to the tops of your thighs. He hasn’t even done anything that intense yet, but you already feel the muscles in your leg ready to spasm just from his proximity.

He’s mouthing at your skin, nudging your legs apart, and you, usually so confident in your sexuality, can’t find the courage to look at him as he so lovingly carries out his ministrations.

As if sensing your sudden bout of shyness (you! shy! Doyeon was gonna tease you about this for the rest of your life once you recapped this for her), he places a soft kiss just below where the hem of your dress begins, before pulling back and uttering, “this okay?”

You hum in response, face warm from just imagining how good he must look down there, peppering your skin with kisses. Your heart nearly rips itself out of your chest when a strong set of fingers wraps around your wrist suddenly, sliding over and around your hand until he’s tangled them with yours.

At this, you nearly break your neck trying to look at him, only to be met with an amused smile. Jungkook gives your hand a squeeze, and you barely get to appreciate the schoolgirl flood of emotions in your chest, when suddenly his free hand comes out of left field, cupping the back of your knee to push your legs further apart, before gliding across the expanse of your thigh to push your dress up.

If Jungkook holding your hand was enough to make your heart skip a beat, Jungkook pressing a chaste kiss to your panty-clad mound was enough to send you into cardiac arrest. Your leg twitches at the sudden touch, a gasp catching in your throat at the delicate path he kisses over your panties, until he’s flicking his tongue over your clit. “Oh,” you moan, and against your better judgment, your free hand is tangling itself in his silky strands.

Jungkook smirks, what sounds like a tiny chuckle muffled as he continues mouthing along your sex, until your panties are soaked both from your arousal and his saliva. Your little thong stares him in the face, and he groans at the sight, glancing up at you with those wide eyes of his like you’re his entire world. “Can I?”

Jungkook gives your clit one final kiss, before he lets go of your hand, and you can’t help the whine that leaves you upon the lost contact. Jungkook eats it up, pressing a kiss turned smile against your knee as he tugs your underwear down. It coils up as it goes, until he’s pulling a tightly twisted maroon thong off your ankles, and tossing it off somewhere behind him.

If his mouth felt good through your panties, it feels even better without. You mewl when he brushes his lips over your clit, plush lips working your sensitive bundle of nerves, sly tongue occasionally creeping out to toy with you further. “Jungkook,” you cry out, back arching. He licks and slurps likes he’s a starved man, and you're the first meal he’s ever had. You want to sob from how good it feels, his tongue flicking over your bud like he just can’t get enough.

He pulls away to catch your gaze, doesn’t let it go as he runs a lone finger over your slit, coating the digit in your own arousal, before carefully plunging it into your warm, wet heat. “Is this good?” He rasps out, watching your facial expressions carefully as he wiggles his finger deeper into your core, his other hand wrapped around your thigh to keep you still. You moan, feeling like a boneless heap of organs beneath this insanely handsome man who can’t keep his hands off your quivering pussy.

His fingers don’t let up, slowly pulling out before plunging back in. The room fills with disgustingly wet sounds, but that fact drifts to the back of your head the faster his fingers go. Your eyes roll into your head, your body twitching with each press of his fingers.

“Is it good, pretty?” He repeats, and since you’re not looking at him anymore, the sudden lick against your clit has your back arching and your thighs quivering with surprise. “Tell me it’s good, ___,” Jungkook croons, and you nod in a hurry.

“It’s good!” You cry, moaning loudly when he slips another finger into you, scissoring the two inside of you. “It’s so good, Jungkook—y-you’re so good,” you moan, and nearly cry actual tears when he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing down against the most sensitive spot within you.

Jungkook doesn’t let up, continues licking and slurping against your sensitive bud, even when your orgasm hits and you’re begging him to stop. He doesn’t let you go until he feels the warmth coat his fingers, feels the wetness begging to seep out of your plugged pussy. He lets you go then, only to move closer to your hole and replace his fingers with his mouth. There, he carefully catches and collects the cum that trickles out, mouth warm against your trembling body.

Your body quivers with each long drag of his tongue over your sensitive cunt, and you’re about to ask him to stop, when he finally pulls away and pushes himself over you, arms caging you in as he stares down at your withered form. “Kiss,” you manage to gasp out, and Jungkook raises an eyebrow in question. “Kiss me,” you repeat, and then, thoughtfully, “please.”

Jungkook complies, leans down to connect your mouths in a sweet kiss. You’re blinded by the delicacy of it all, that you in no way see coming the sudden substance that slides down your throat from his own. You choke at the sudden intrusion, belatedly realizing it’s your cum he’s pushing down your throat, the cum he didn’t swallow.

“That’s it, pretty,” Jungkook croons, licking up the residual come that hadn’t made it into your mouth. “See how you taste for me. Isn’t it sweet?” He murmurs, pushing his tongue into your mouth as if he regretted not saving any for himself. It’s the first time you’ve had your own pleasure in your mouth, so you’re not exactly sure how to feel. What you do feel is the overwhelming surge of arousal at seeing Jungkook rave about it and lap it up inside your own mouth.

He kisses you for a few moments, mouth moving languidly along yours. One hand reaches down to rub soothingly at your inner thigh, like he’s coaxing the feeling back into your body after lulling you into one of the most heavenly orgasms of your entire life. You whimper when he bites down on your lower lip, like you’re still too sensitive to reciprocate, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. He lets you go, licks over where he’d bitten like an apology.

After a few minutes of just this, of feeling like the most cherished girl in the entire world, Jungkook finally pulls away and levels you with a dashing smile. “All good?” He asks, hands still trailing up your waist until they’re framing the swell of your breasts, where he gently circles your nipple.

You nod, dazedly staring up at him and it’s at this exact moment that you realize there’s something stiff poking at your hip. You glance down, and Jungkook glances down with you, until you’re both staring at the hard on he’s hiding beneath his jeans. Jungkook chuckles, low and dark by your ear as he experimentally presses it against you.

Before you can stop yourself, your hand is untangling itself from around his shoulders and slithering down his front. You cup his erection, his shaky exhale giving you the courage to toy with his belt buckle until it’s undone and you're battling with the button on his jeans instead. You put up a good fight, but in the end the angle is too tight for you to properly undo it, and Jungkook brushes your hands away with a soft kiss to your lips.

He pushes himself off you, and you’re immediately craving the warm press of his body against yours the second he’s gone. “Get that dress off for me, pretty girl,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head, rendering you completely speechless as you gawk at his body. Jungkook glances down at you as he goes to undo his pants, a shapely brow raising in your direction and a soft quirk of his lips gesturing for you to do as you’re told.

You spur into action, wiggling the dress up and over your breasts until you’re pulling it over your head and letting it drop beside you on the floor. You’re just in time to see Jungkook push his jeans down his hips, a classic black Calvin Klein underwear band glaring back at you.

The chance to marvel at Jungkook’s thin waist framed by that tight underwear is gone as quickly as it came, and you’re greeted with an even more mouthwatering sight when he pushes the elastic band down, and that big cock you had alluded to springs out of its confines. You groan, subconsciously rolling your hips into the air as you take in the sight of his cock, mushroom tip swollen and flushed. There’s a thick vein that runs along the underside of it, one you only see when Jungkook grasps his dick in his hand and tugs upward like this isn’t his true form, and he can get bigger.

“Ready?” He asks, biting down on his lip as he continues to stroke himself. You nod, wiggling closer to him until the backs of your thighs rest on top of his, knees knocking against his waist. He grants you one more of those kind smiles, before he’s leaning down to press a hand beside your head, the other lining himself up with your soaked entrance.

Running his cock over your folds one last time, collecting as much of your cum as he can, he brushes a kiss against your cheekbone before he’s pushing in. You moan, throwing your hands around his neck as he pierces through the initial ring of muscle surrounding your warm heat. “Holy shit,” you choke, mouth dropped open as you pant like a dog against his shoulder. “J-Jungkook,” you cry, legs tightening around his waist the closer his body presses against yours.

Once he’s at the hilt, pelvis flush against you, you can’t help the series of whines and mewls that escape your lips from being so comfortably filled to the brim.

To your surprise, Jungkook is the first to speak. “Fuck,” he groans, breath hot against your ear. He sounds fucked out, once silky voice raspy with need as he grinds his hips against you tentatively. “This is what you wanted, isn't it?” He huffs, both hands coming down to wrap around your waist, your back arching under the wonderful hands that find themselves squeezing every inch of your back in an effort to pull you closer.

His mouth brushes against yours from this new position, and Jungkook puckers his lips, tongue coming out to lick at your bottom lip. You nearly cry when he finally pulls his hips away, relieves his cock from your tight heat before surging back in. “Wanted this from the moment you walked in, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Jungkook grunts, repeats the same motion until he’s picked up a steady pace of pushing and pulling, each roll of his hips sending a shock of ecstasy crawling up your spine.

You nod, eyes screwed shut as pleasure warms every inch of your body. It’s even worse to not see, because every sound and every touch is magnified tenfold, until you’re drowning in sensations. Jungkook’s choked groans, the slide of his hips, they all become too much too quickly and you’re choking back a sob.

“Fuck,” he groans, glancing down at your withered form like an animal as he picks up his pace. His hold on you tightens, never letting your body move away from him and he begins jack hammering in his thrusts, swallowing your cries with his lips. “Had me thinking you were a nice girl,” he huffs, and you wonder if he knows how tightly he’s holding you, how this grip will most likely leave you with fingerprint bruises tomorrow morning. But then again, you don’t care. All you care about is Jungkook’s voice and his body, guiding you toward completion. “But all you wanted was a quick fuck.”

You steel yourself to look at him again, and when your eyes finally open and focus, you’re wishing you hadn’t because Jungkook looks so hot over you. His pretty eyes, the ones that had led you into a false sense of comfort throughout the night and tricked you into believing he would be easy to bend to your every whim, are hard now. “Isn’t that right, doll?” He spits, and you whine when he punctuates this question with a particularly brutal thrust of his hips. His balls slap against your ass, and you squirm beneath him as you begin to feel the beginnings of an orgasm build in your core.

“I-I thought—“ you stammer, tone pitched from the way he jostles you with every thrust he gives. “Y-You wanted that,” you weekly defend, canting your hips down in a feeble attempt to progress this along.

He snorts, captures your lips in a rushed kiss where he wastes no time snaking his tongue inside your mouth. His saliva trickles into your mouth, and you whine as he purposefully lets it happen, pulls away just the slightest to pucker his lips and let a thick trail of spit fall straight into your open mouth. Satisfied with his little stunt, he rams his cock against you once more.

“If you wanted a quick fuck,” he says, nearly loses himself in your pussy, “you came to the wrong guy, sweetheart.”

You’re too caught up in the nice drag of his cock against your pussy, the tip of his cock stopping him from ever pulling out completely, that it takes you a second to process his words. “H-Huh?” You choke, teary eyes flickering across his face wildly as if the answer will be right in plain sight.

But all you’re met with is the soft pull of his lips as he flashes you a smirk, pearly white teeth tugging at the pink flesh, as he levels you with a glare of his own. Before you can question him further, he’s letting go of your waist to hike your knees into the crook of his elbows, his pouty lips growing further away as he leans back.

This shift has his cock nudging up, rubbing against the hood of your clit where a bundle of nerves he’d only briefly brushed before sits. You shriek in pleasure, writhing beneath him as the sudden sensation hits you full force. “Jungkook!” You sob, his hips slowing to a grind as he watches your face crumble beneath him.

“You like that?” He murmurs, rutting his hips against you shallowly. The change of pace, the rabid piston of his hips slowing to this, has your body melting into his touch. You barely manage a nod, eyes fluttering open and shut as his hips move sensually against you.

His cock brushes against that sensitive spot with each roll of his hips, and you’re a mewling, puddle of emotion by the third thrust. “Pretty girl,” he hums, letting go of one leg to place a hand above your mound, thumb circling your clit until you’re trembling beneath him. “Did you think I would fuck you and kick you out?” He husks, watching your body like he’s a lion and you’re his prey.

Your brain is far from comprehending anything at this point, reduced to a mere mass of nothingness as he continues moving against you, fingers rubbing your clit in all the right ways.

“Well, you were wrong about that, doll,” he huffs, and you’re blessed with the sight of his head lolling back as he loses himself in the tight grip of your pussy, skin glistening with sweat, trailing from behind his ear and over his neck, until you’re watching a pearl roll over his collarbones. “I don’t do that,” he informs you, and he pinches your clit between two fingers, hard enough that you almost miss his next words as you moan. “No, baby, I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he spits, and you whimper at his words. Finally, he lets go of your knees, right as you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and you moan out in protest as he ducks down to cage you between his arms again.

“Please,” you beg, voice hoarse as his hips slowly return to their pace from before. He’s still not pulling out as much, keeping his thrusts shallow as he kisses a trail up your neck and over your jaw.

“Gonna fuck you so good, you don’t ever want to leave, pretty,” he says, kisses the corner of your mouth as his hips pick up pace. You wanna cry, feeling so warm and cherished in his arms, his voice telling you how good you’re doing as the coil in your stomach tightens and tightens until you’re begging him for more. “Do you want that?”

“Yes! Yes!” You sob, rolling your hips against his like a madman as you chase your high.

Jungkook hums, smile smushed against your lips as he watches you desperately writhing beneath him. “Yeah? You want that?” You nod, mewls swallowed by his kisses. “Then cum for me, pretty girl.”

You whimper, just as he bucks into you once more, and suddenly you’re falling apart. It starts in your lower back, the ecstasy climbing it’s way through your body until you’re quivering and sobbing in his embrace, muffling your sounds against his shoulder. The muscles in your entire body tighten painfully, until suddenly a wave of contentment washes over you, and you’re too weak to even hold onto him anymore, arms flopping back onto the couch cushions beneath you.

The whole time, Jungkook mutters encouragement against your jaw, keeps his thrusts short but quick, guiding you through your orgasm. When you’re done, he presses an open mouthed kiss beneath your ear, pulling away to look at your boneless frame beneath him.

A few pistons of his hips later, and Jungkook is coming inside of you, cum coating your walls as he hammers his way through his orgasm. He pulls out when he’s done, and you instantly feel your mixed arousal drip out between your thighs.

Woozy from the wine and the two orgasms, you fall asleep soon after.

——

“Good morning,” you murmur, standing at the doorway leading into the kitchen, an area you’d only been able to find after stumbling around the upstairs of the house in confusion.

Jungkook whirls around, wide eyes taking in your appearance. You clutch at the hem of the big t-shirt you’d pulled on, the only article of clothing you saw that was thrown over a chair in a bedroom you didn’t dare snoop around. “Morning,” he exhales, calculating gaze never leaving you as you tiptoe over to him by the counter.

He doesn’t say more, spluttering into action when you peek over his shoulder to see what he’s up to. “What’re you making?” You inquire, and his hands begin fidgeting with the knife.

“Oh, um,” he stutters, and perhaps he’s overly aware of your presence so close beside him, because he suddenly doesn’t remember how he’s supposed to cut an avocado. Cute, you think. “Just, um, toast with avocado spread…”

You hum. After a moment, it seems Jungkook is able to quell his nerves, and he carefully slices the avocado open, spreading its innards across the toast. He hands you the first piece, which you take after masking your own surprise, and soon after he’s turning away from the counter as the two of you eat in silence.

After a few thoughtful munches of bread, you speak. “Thanks for carrying me to bed,” you say, refusing to look at him.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, almost a little too fast and you barely bite down a grin as he rambles on. “Wasn’t gonna leave you on the couch, especially not when you were so tired after… ah, yeah.”

It’s the reserved way he carries himself that gives you the balls to look at him. His ears are flushed adorably red, like when you were at dinner last night talking about his job, and all you wanna do is pinch his cheeks. “Yeah,” you agree, and then add with an air of faux shyness, “you were really cool last night.”

It’s the little devil in you begging to jump out, curious to see how far you can push Jungkook before he shifts into that suave version of himself from last night, and you would feel bad had the corner of his lips not tilted up in amusement.

He chokes out a laugh, mutters a “yeah?” and you don’t stop yourself when you jump into his arms and kiss that avocado spread right off his lips.

——

On Tuesday afternoon, Kim Namjoon is in the midst of delivering another sermon-like speech on the importance of utilizing your student ID when visiting any of the Starbucks within a two mile radius of your school, when you spot a chestnut head of hair from the corner of your eye.

“Sorry, Joon! My ride's here!” You yelp, shoving your notebook into your bag as you stumble over yourself in your haste to leave.

Namjoon blinks. “Huh? I thought you lived on campus?”

You nod, that giddy feeling starting up in your chest as he comes closer to where you and Namjoon have taken up residence on a table in the commons for your weekly meeting, and by the time he reaches the table Namjoon is still in the midst of questioning you.

“Jungkook,” You say, all dreamily and dazed, and you know this because Doyeon caught you with this same exact look on your face after he dropped you off at the dorms Sunday afternoon.

Namjoon startles. “What the f—“

“Hi,” Jungkook beams, leans down to brush a kiss against your cheek, which only serves to make you even more ditzy and dumb in the face of this handsome man. “Oh, hey, hyung.”

“What’re you doi—“

“All set?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring whatever his beloved senior was saying in favor of taking your bag off your shoulders. You nod, have to swallow a giggle down when he takes your hand in his. “Bye, hyung.”

“Bye, Joon!” You barely remember to throw over your shoulder, too busy wrapping yourself around Jungkook’s arm to hear Namjoon blabber in shock.

“Kids these days,” he huffs.

[ part 2 ; hulu & woohoo ]

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #jjk smut #bts smut #mine

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hotchley · 3 years

Text

“sit down and shut up”

morehotchcontent day five: kisses (counting kisses)

tagged: @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety @whoreforthebauteam

but most of all, he was proud of the man he loved. he remembered when aaron hotchner had first joined the unit, nervous but bubbly, with hair that fell across his forehead and got in his eyes. they’d both been married then. the job had taken that away from both of them.

which is how they found each other all over again. and now they were happy. dave had his own way of expressing that. to other people, it may have seemed extreme, but dave was Italian. it was what he did. and besides, aaron wasn’t complaining so he had no reason to stop.

in which david rossi just likes kissing aaron hotchner,

it’s still thursday somewhere (it’s 11:12 pm in the uk, but i’m feeling dramatic)

read on ao3!

David Rossi was a proud man. He was proud of his job, of the people he’d saved and the criminals he had put away. He was proud of how the Behavioural Analysis Unit, which so many people had scoffed at when it was first founded, had flourished. He was proud of the kids in the unit for continuing to brave their jobs and be unapologetically human.

But most of all, he was proud of the man he loved. He remembered when Aaron Hotchner had first joined the unit, nervous but bubbly, with hair that fell across his forehead and got in his eyes. They’d both been married then. The job had taken that away from both of them.

Which is how they found each other all over again. And now they were happy. Dave had his own way of expressing that. To other people, it may have seemed extreme, but Dave was Italian. It was what he did. And besides, Aaron wasn’t complaining so he had no reason to stop.

one

When one of you was a parent, and the other was an ex-marine, you got used to waking up with the sun. But where Dave actually enjoyed mornings, Aaron liked to bury his head in the pillow for as long as was humanly possible.

“Morning sweetness,” Dave said, when Aaron’s eyes fluttered open.

Aaron groaned. “It’s too early for this crap.”

Dave tutted. “Don’t let Jack hear you say that.”

The look Aaron gave him would have bought unsubs to their knees. But Dave was not an unsub. He was Aaron’s partner. And he knew exactly how to make that man smile.

Before Aaron could roll over, Dave extended his hand, giving Aaron plenty of time to understand what he was about to do. When Aaron didn’t tense, Dave gently caressed his cheek before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Aaron’s eyes closed at the contact, some of the tension he’d been carrying released.

“I’ll make us breakfast,” Dave said.

Aaron smiled, eyes still closed.

two

“I’ll make the coffee,” Aaron offered, entering the kitchen in one of Dave’s old t-shirts and his own jogging bottoms. His hair was still an untamed mess, just the way Dave loved it. It was always lovely at the end of the day to watch as Agent Hotchner became Aaron, but the best part was how he’d take the gel out and allow his hair to become all scruffy again.

“That’d be lovely. But that��s all you’re doing okay? As soon as you’ve done that, go and sit,” he said.

Aaron nodded, and for once in his life, did as he was told.

When Dave bought the plates into the dining room, Aaron was smiling down at his phone. Good. He wasn’t checking his work email.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Jack’s school uploaded some of the pictures from their camping trip. He looks happy,” Hotch said, tilting the phone so Dave could see.

“Good kid,” Dave said. When Aaron tried to take his plate, he tutted.

Aaron rolled his eyes, but stood up nonetheless. Dave kissed his cheek this time, before setting the plate down in front of him, delighting in the slight flush that appeared where he’d kissed him.

three

“We’re going out,” Dave announced, entering Hotch’s office without knocking.

Hotch looked up from his file. “Dave.”

“Aaron.”

“I can’t,” Hotch said. “I have all of this paperwork, and if I stop then it’ll just build even more and then I’ll have to stay later which will impact everything else, so don’t Aaron me. Get one of the others to go with you.”

Rossi knew Hotch wasn’t annoyed at him, he was just agitated by everything he was supposed to be doing. He flicked through a few of the files.

“First of all, these aren’t even yours, they’re the teams. So really, they should be in the bullpen. Second of all, these-” he held up another few “-are technically mine. Third, I can and will Aaron you whenever I want because I don’t want a member of the team to go with me. I want you.”

Aaron sighed, then stood up. Dave smiled and extended his arm. Out of habit, the other man glanced out the window of his office, just to make sure the team were all okay before taking the arm being offered to him as he allowed himself to be escorted out of his office. And hey, if Derek used that moment to grab a few extra files for Reid, well Hotch didn’t have to know.

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” Aaron said, twenty minutes later, as they were sat in the park eating ice-cream.

“It wasn’t exactly hard to love you Aaron. You’re a good man. Kind. Passionate. Handsome. I mean, what is there not to like?”

Aaron smiled, that awkward one he got whenever someone complimented him as he turned away slightly. Dave shifted so the space between them was significantly reduced and kissed Hotch’s shoulder, no longer covered by the blazer he’d convinced him to shed for the sake of comfort.

He saw Hotch mouth something to himself, but he couldn’t tell what.

It didn’t matter though. He’d made Aaron get some fresh air and forced him to relax for a few minutes. That was classed as a win in anyone’s book.

four

Dinner in the Hotchner-Rossi household was always interesting. Aaron had never been a particularly gifted cook, but after Haley’s passing, he started making more of an effort because unfortunately, Jack could not survive on chicken nuggets and boxed macaroni.

Dave had been more than willing to aid the Hotchner’s in their cooking journey. Some days he’d helped Aaron cook, other days he’d taught both of them a new recipe. And on some particularly difficult days, he had cooked something simple and light, just to keep them both going.

Now, it was a combined effort. Aaron usually did the preparations, as that was more set in stone. There were only so many ways one could crush garlic and most recipes defined how things were supposed to be cut up. It was regimented. Repetitive. Most of the prep for the dishes they made together was simple. A mind-numbing task that helped him get rid of the stress from the day.

Rossi would do the actually cooking because that was where things would get a bit more abstract. Aaron would often worry too much that it wasn’t going to be completely perfect, or that it wouldn’t be exactly what the recipe said, whereas Dave was much more willing to eyeball it all.

Normally, Dave would just watch as Aaron moved round his kitchen with ease, chopping up vegetables and getting the saucepans out. Hotch didn’t understand why Dave would want to watch him do such basic, boring tasks. Dave said that was the entire reason: he liked seeing Aaron Hotchner being domestic. It made his heart warm.

Today however, he chose to invade his personal space. He uttered a soft greeting as he entered, not wanting to spook him and gently rubbed his shoulders in a lightly massaging gesture.

“Hi,” Aaron whispered.

Dave pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, smiling when Aaron relaxed. Deciding to be a bit more forward, he slowly started kissing the area not covered by his shirt, delighting in the breathless sigh Aaron released as he kissed the area where his shirt collar would not cover it.

“We’re going to end up in the E.R if you keep doing that,” Aaron warned.

Almost immediately, Dave pulled away, smirking when the Aaron Hotchner actually whined.

“We wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

He sauntered away after that.

five

“It’s quiet without Jack,” Dave said.

Aaron’s grip on his fork tightened minutely.

Dave cringed. “I’m sorry. I forgot how it must have felt then. Not knowing when you were next going to see him.”

Hotch shook his head. “It’s fine. You’re right. It is quiet.”

They had pretty much finished eating. Aaron was missing his son again, so he hadn’t eaten most of what was on his plate. Dave had planned for that, so the meal was more filling than usual. And it would last in the fridge for a few days. Jack was coming home in two days, which meant it would finish and nothing would be wasted.

“Why don’t we rectify that then?” Dave said, holding his hand out.

Aaron frowned.

“Dance with me. Just for five minutes. I promise you’ll feel so much better.”

Aaron let himself be pulled into the living room, not even hesitating to leave Dave lead. The trust he placed in him never failed to amaze him. He just knew that if wishes did come true, his only one would be that Aaron Hotchner never stopped looking at him with that adoration in his eyes.

When the second song came to an end, he placed his own hands over Aaron’s, then bought them to his lips and kissed them, feeling very much like a prince meeting his princess for the first time.

“My liege,” he joked.

Aaron grinned.

six

It was getting late, and so they had decided to head up to bed. Dave was doing a rough plan for his next novel- on pen and paper as that was the only proper way to do the first draft- and Aaron was reading one of those cliché romance novels. Dave thought it was hilarious that he liked to read about country girls falling in love with city boys, but Aaron said he liked to read about nice things, especially since their entire lives revolved around criminals existing.

When Aaron yawned again, Dave decided it was time to admit defeat. Neither of them liked to be the one to admit they were too tired to stay awake- probably because it reminded them that they were both getting older- but Dave was willing to do whatever it took to make Aaron establish healthy sleeping patterns.

Including swallowing his pride.

“I think I’m going to go to sleep now,” he said.

Aaron nodded, bookmarking his page. “That seems like a good idea.”

Dave slid off the bed and switched the light off. The door was closed. The windows were locked with the curtains drawn. When Dave switched the main light off, Aaron flicked the lamp on. He couldn’t sleep in complete darkness. He hadn’t for a while.

Aaron had been terrified that Dave would laugh the first time they slept in the same bed and he’d needed the light on. Obviously, he hadn’t. Instead, he had flicked both lamps on (they were on a case, nothing more needed to be said) and held him through the night.

Now, Aaron didn’t need any encouragement to let Dave cuddle him.

But before sleep could take them, Dave kissed him, once, on the lips.

“Six,” Aaron said, voice already quiet and sleepy.

“What was that?”

“You kissed me six times today. That has to be above the average.”

“What can I say? You’re above the average.”

The last thing Dave heard before he fell asleep was Aaron’s laugh.

#morehotchcontent2020 #day five: kisses #counting kisses #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch #hotch x rossi #david rossi #rossi #soft hotch

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jiminieloved · 4 years

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Lol, welp, since your submission page does say you’re accepting people venting their opinion about something, and other anons you’re getting today have made this topical, I’m going to submit a bit of a frustrated opinion piece to you here- though I totally understand if you don’t want to post it if you think others might take it the wrong way and feel like it’s inciting drama or something.

So bit of a hot take here, but I hold the opinion that Jikookers who insist that the post SY Final emails from TKers/hetshippers about stopping Jikook’s ‘gay performances’ worked, and that Jikook has ‘barely breathed’ and stopped interacting in public since then specifically because Big Hit won’t ‘let’ them because of those complaints, because they’re now trying to suppress their relationship and please Taekookers, are almost as frustrating as the crowd that starts weeping about how Jikook broke up every single time we go a week without a new moment at this point- it’s just two different forms of baseless hysteria grounded in insecurity. There’s a reason TKers have been widely mocked for coming up with conspiracy theories about how BH has turned TK into a tragic, forbidden love that is forced to stay apart, and I just hate seeing so many of us turn around and do the exact same thing the second we miss the boys for a minute. Now, allow to me explain WHY I think this idea is so silly, if I may

I guarantee that Big Hit gets complaints and demands about EVERYTHING related to the boys, that’s just the nature of overseeing literally the biggest band in the world- and yet people truly believe that of all the things they hear about, they caved to the emailed demands of what was most likely not even actually a full 100 people among BTS’s 1mil+ person fan base? You’re giving what was most likely a double digit amount of TKers (whenever anyone tries to bust out a tweet of people complaining about all the Jikook interactions that night that has triple digit likes, as if that’s proof that hundreds upon HUNDREDS of people were emailing Big Hit, I have to roll my eyes; one, a lot of that those likes probably come from people who have multiple accounts, and two, there’s way less energy involved with hitting like on a tweet than composing and sending an email-I would bet you anything that the vast majority of people who did the former never actually followed through with the latter. Not to mention that even if it actually had been a few hundred, which it almost definitely wasn’t, that’s STILL a completely insignificant portion of BTS’s fanbase) entirely too much credit if you think BH started suddenly declaring how and when JM and JK are allowed to interact just because of them; frankly, BH likely gets WAY more nutso emails from people about dumb things like wanting Tae publicly flogged for vaping or wanting JK kicked out of the group for having tattoos than they ever have about shipping matters- I’d be shocked if this particular issue was even a blip on the radar, or ever went beyond the administrative assistant in charge of sorting through fan emails laughing to themself as they deleted the nonsense.

But hey, let’s say the emails DID make it to the higher-ups at Big Hit and they WERE aware of them- thinking they started keeping Jikook apart because of them requires assuming BH places more weight into a few pressed emails than they do the entire sold out stadium being filled with the sound of hysterical, supportive, happy screaming every time Jikook were acting boo’d up that night, and, uh… WHY would you assume that, lol? Even IF BigHit is hypersensitive to how Army responds to specific ships, which I honestly doubt, I promise you any company would care more about the real-time reaction of a 60000 person true random sampling of the band’s fan base than a comparatively TINY amount of emails or tweets that, for all they know, are just being spammed by the same five people with an agenda across different accounts, and that real-time reaction to Jikook from 60000 random fans was extremely positive. Not to mention how Jikook is more popular than Taekook with both K-Army and J-Army, and it’s only I-Army that Taekook has the edge with; why does anyone think Big Hit cares more about a shipping subset of their third biggest market than a shipping subset of their first two biggest markets, if they’re going to care about shipping at all?

Then there’s the issue where I also think it’s kind of insulting to Jimin and Jungkook to suggest they would have even stood for being forcibly distanced to please some pissy Taekook fans, TBH. I’m not saying they get to live their lives as openly as they want 100% of the time, obviously as Idols there are things they make big concessions about, but Jungkook is a man who has been acknowledging since 2014 that a lot of their fans would be very upset with him if he ever got a tattoo, and who then still proceeded to get 20+ of them because that’s what HE wanted, Jimin is a man who saw fans complaining his shirt was too revealing and he should stop wearing it and proceeded to wear that shirt as often as possible throughout the next few weeks to make a point- you think they’d put up a fight like that for tattoos and clothes, but not for the person that we as Jikookers are assuming is their beloved partner? That’s not even getting into Jungkook being so vocal and so brave with gestures like GCF Tokyo and Rose Bowl; I would bet you anything that same man would not sit there quietly and nod along if an executive tried to order him to stop being seen with Jimin and start playing up his friendship with Taehyung for the camera more often, all just so they could please some obnoxious American teenagers.

And finally, and what might be the biggest point to me- the ‘Jikook has been dead since then!’ and ‘Something is clearly off between them since then!’ narratives are SO exaggerated by Jikookers anyway, ones who have lost all perspective about how they haven’t been in public much since November, and they both barely use social media anymore, so ALL content from them drops off dramatically when there’s no tour, no promotions, and no appearances happening. Shippers keep complaining that we’ve had barely any new content in 2020, it’s all been stuff that was filmed in 2019 and just released now, waaah, and I’m just like ‘…uh, yeah, and that’s the case for literally every ship involving Jimin or Jungkook, because the three weeks of album promotion we got are basically all either of them have been seen for this year.’ If they were both constantly around and acting affectionate with other members while visibly icing only each other out, then maybe I could get the conspiracy theories, but I genuinely can’t recall any significant interactions either of them have had with other members outside of the clearly planned and scheduled V-Lives- not that this means the interactions in said V-lives weren’t genuine and cute, for the record! But it’s not like Jungkook was just hanging out at Tae’s apartment and they spontaneously decided to go live- Big Hit clearly had these particular lives mapped out and they’ve essentially been part of the boys’ current work schedule. They’ve both made themselves scarce, period, you can’t get ‘fed’ by people who just straight up aren’t making public appearances or using their social media accounts- and when we HAVE seen them, like in the last two OT7 lives, they’ve very much seemed like their normal selves and have been right by each other’s side, per usual. Also, when you look back on years in your mind as a compilation of significant moments, it makes you forget that even in 2018 and 2019, it wasn’t uncommon to go weeks or months between content; your brain just selectively filters out the time in-between that you spent waiting to remember only the good stuff we got those years, and it makes it feel like it was a constant flood of moments happening all at once; you remember ALL of 2018 and 2019 as their respective best dozen moments, forgetting that there was plenty of time in between even then, and that Jikookers frequently threw embarrassing fits about how they had clearly broken up any time their ‘feeding schedule’ was off for a few weeks even then.

And I mean, the face smushing pictures that have already become a Jikook fandom all time favorite moment were post SYF, the chest groping performance of Home was post SYF, them lovingly smiling while singing The Earth Traveler directly to each other and the behind the scenes clip of them looking just as smitten during the recording was post SYF, the extremely flirty and domestic New Year’s VLive that had Jikook fandom dying was post SYF, the video of them flirting about how long they’ve been a unit was post SYF (not to mention how Big Hit deciding to give them a photobook subunit in the first place, or deciding to include that flirty footage in the album release event stream, were both choices made post SYF), the big Jikook feast that was Winter Package was post SYF (and again, BH didn’t HAVE to include all that Jikook footage, and they DEFINITELY didn’t have to write the very shippy captions that one had- they chose to), Jimin holding Jungkook’s arm in the airport was post SYF, them holding hands while walking off stage at the Japan muster was post SYF, Jungkook calling Jimin cute and sexy during the album release and all of their flirting across the table and hugging and touchiness that same night was post SYF, the V-Live where Jimin was being very affectionate with Jungkook and there was that adorable minute long sequence where you could tell how badly they were fighting the instinct to hold hands was post SYF, Jungkook publicly and proudly losing his mind over Jimin the Black Swan reaction video was post SYF, them choosing to let us see them happily riding home together was post SYF, Jungkook stopping dead in his tracks and abandoning the routine to just lovingly stare at Jimin for two minutes straight during Carpool Karaoke was post SYF, the cuddling and spooning during recent Run BTS episodes was filmed prior to then, but BH’s decision to include the footage and post the photo was post SYF, same with all the season’s greeting Jikook footage, same with BH deciding to make the 5th Muster DVD an all out Jikook holy grail, same with BH having the Speak Yourself Japan behind-the-scenes footage be more Jikook than anything else. If that’s Jikook after supposedly being ordered to stay away from each other or to at least ‘tone down the gay’, and if Big Hit’s idea of pulling back on Jikook means still having the behind the scenes footage on the next 4 paid content DVD releases be LOADED with Jikook and basically revolve around their interactions, then call me crazy, but I think things are gonna be okay

#submission #yesssssssss #pls get notes this is everythibng i've ever wanted to say in one post #thank u #jikook #jikook discourse

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tw-anchor · 4 years

Text

24. He Knew

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 2x12; Master Plan

Word Count: 5,132

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence and gore, semi-dead and briefly-dead Jackson, injured Stiles, proclamations of love

Author’s Note: Here’s the season 2 finale. Olivia and Stiles take a step in their relationship, so let me know what you think? Hope you enjoy and make sure to reblog and comment!

Masterlink in Profiles Description!

Sixty-five percent of people living in America believed that they only use ten percent of their brain. Scientists and doctors debunked the myth, of course, but people still believe the outdated rumor. The human brain is complex; it performs millions of actions within a second, controls your emotions and behaviors, stores memories, and can solve mathematical equations.

Olivia knows firsthand because it sure feels like all three pounds of her brain were working overtime. It wasn't just the biological features, like her grief for Jackson or her worry for Stiles. It was the supernatural ones, too. Whatever came with her being an anchor was even more distracting than her emotions or the chaos going on around her.

It was the constant whispering in her ears, even though no one was there beside her. It was a distinct feeling that she almost couldn't describe; a weird zap in her temple that told her many of her pack members were hurt and a murky feel of where they were located. It was the overwhelming feeling to move, to stop fighting whatever was inside of her and find where Stiles had been taken.

"Olivia, hun, are you okay?"

Olivia blinked at the gruff voice and quickly focused, nodding her head at Noah. "Yeah, sorry, Sheriff."

Noah waved her off and continued telling her, Scott, and Isaac what he had planned on doing. "I've got to meet with the medical examiner and try to figure out what happened with Jackson," he listed. "I've got an APB out on Stiles. His Jeep is still in the parking lot, so that means...Hell, I don't know what that means."

Olivia knew what it meant and so did Scott and Isaac. Gerard had taken Stiles as soon as that game buzzer went off, taking him who knows where.

"Look," he sighed heavily, shoving his little notebook into his pocket. "if he answers his phone, if he answers his emails, if any of you see him..."

"We'll call you," Isaac assured him kindly.

"He's probably just freaked out from all the attention or something," Scott tried to make Noah feel better. Anything was better than telling him a geriatric psychopath—in the words of her father—had kidnapped him. "We'll find him."

Noah nodded solemnly. "Yeah...I'll see you, okay?" he patted Olivia on the shoulder. "I'm sorry for your loss."

She managed a sad smile before he walked away. "Thank you."

Was Jackson her loss? Yes, in the sense they were friends and he had died out on that field, she lost Jackson. But there was something in her head, that supernatural side of her, that told her that Jackson wasn't as dead as they thought he was. And it didn't make sense that Gerard would just kill off his best player so soon to the final battle because she knew that Jackson would never kill himself. It was Jackson, for crying out loud.

"McCall," Coach approached them now, hardly bothering with the fact that Olivia was in the locker room. "We need you on the team, okay? You know I can't put you on the field next season if you don't get your grades up."

There weren't the right words but Coach's tone told them that he was grieving Jackson just like his players were.

"I know, Coach."

"All right," Coach faltered for a second. "I mean, I know I yell a lot but it's not like I hate you guys...Well, I hate Greenberg, but, you know, that's different. It's Greenberg," he chuckled a little bit before sobering. "I'm just saying we—I need you on the team. Get your grades back up."

It was the sweetest thing that Olivia had ever heard Coach say before. It actually kind of shocked her.

Scott looked just as shocked as her. "I will."

"I know," Coach nodded and then patted Olivia on the shoulder. "Martin."

Okay, that was two times she was comforted about Jackson out of nowhere. Was she not hiding her emotions as well as she thought or was it because people had actually noticed that she and Jackson were more friendly than their cold exteriors made it seem?

As soon as Coach was shut away in his office, Scott turned to Olivia and Isaac. "Is that everyone?"

Olivia looked around while Isaac used his senses to make sure no one was left in the locker room but them. "I think so."

Scott ripped off the door of Stiles' locker, tossing the warped metal onto the floor.

"You're gonna find him by scent?"

"Yeah, we both are." Scott picked up one of Stiles' shirts and tossed Isaac a shoe.

"But how come you get his shirt and I get a shoe?" Isaac complained.

"Stop whining," Olivia scolded him as Scott tensed up. She and Isaac followed his line of sight to see Derek walking into the locker room alone.

"We need to talk," he said seriously.

Olivia should have known that he wasn't alone; Peter dramatically stepped out of the shadows, revealing himself to Scott. "All of us."

Scott gaped at him. "Holy shit!" his amazement quickly faded and turned to anger. "What the hell is this?"

"Yeah, I forgot to tell you," Olivia winced; that was her bad. "Peter's alive."

Scott gave her an obvious look and then turned back to Derek. "And you're, what, working with him?"

Derek cocked his head calmly, though Olivia could see the irritation in his eyes. "You know, I thought the same thing when I saw you talking to Gerard at the sheriff's station."

Woah, hold up, Olivia whipped her head in Scott's direction. I didn't know that.

"Scott?"

"Okay, hold on," Scott held his hands up defensively. "He—he threatened to kill my mom so I had to get close to him. What was I supposed to do?"

Okay, he had a good point, Olivia admitted to herself.

"I'm gonna go with Scott on this one," Peter interjected casually. "Have you seen his mom? She's gorgeous."

Olivia, Scott, and Derek glared at him, all three of them yelling, "Shut up!"

Peter rolled his eyes while Isaac ducked down to speak quietly in Olivia's ear, though they all heard him. "Who is he?"

"His name's Peter," Olivia informed him, all the while glaring at her father. "He's my dad. He's the one who bit Scott, me, and Lydia. He tried to kill everyone, so Stiles and Jackson set him on fire and Derek slashed his throat."

Peter waved at him. "Hi."

"That's good to know," Isaac whispered awkwardly; Olivia patted his arm.

"Yeah, how is he even alive?" Scott asked loudly.

"Look, short version is he knows how to stop Jackson," Derek declared. "and maybe how to save him."

Olivia raised an eyebrow in surprise, giving Derek a questioning look. He nodded ever so slightly at her, causing her to inhale deeply. Hope settled in her chest; if Jackson wasn't really dead like she thought, maybe they could stop him without killing him dead.

"Well, that's very helpful except Jackson's dead," Isaac told them the news.

Derek furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

"Yeah, Jackson's dead," Scott confirmed. "It just happened on the field."

"I'm gonna be honest and just come out and say it," Olivia spoke up, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't think Jackson's dead."

Scott looked at her in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know, I can't explain it," Olivia's eye caught Peter's, catching his barely there smirk. "I just know that he's not dead. Not completely, anyway."

"Gerard wanted this to happen," Peter stated thoughtfully. "We need to figure out why. Something tells me the window of opportunity is quickly closing."

"Shh!"

Stiles reached above him, going for the cables wrapped around Erica's wrists. He ignored the muffle sounds of her protests chorusing with Boyd's and he shouldn't have. As soon as he touched the wires he was zapped, causing him to hiss and jump back.

"Ow!"

"They were trying to warn you," Gerard Argent slowly walked down the steps into whatever basement they were keeping him, Erica, and Boyd in. "It's electrified."

God, he hated this old man more than he had hated anyone ever. He was pretty sure the guy got his rocks off on torturing innocent people. The Argent patriarch was completely fucked up. Killing werewolves was one thing—a very bad thing—but killing innocent werewolves, especially teenagers, was a whole other level of cruel. He couldn't believe that Allison had been swept up in all of it. He thought—hell, they all thought—she was better than that.

Stiles swallowed his nerves. "What are you doing with them?"

"At the moment, just keeping them comfortable," Gerard answered, casually leaning against the cement wall. "There's no point in torturing them, they won't give Derek up. The instinct to protect their alpha's too strong."

As if hanging two sixteen-year olds by the ceiling with live wires wasn't torture.

"Okay," he played it cool. "So, what are you doing with me? Because Scott can find me, all right? He knows my scent. It's pungent, it's more like a stench. He could find me even if I was buried at the bottom of a sewer covered in fecal matter and urine."

Gerard looked annoyed at his rambling. Good. "You have a knack for creating a vivid picture, Mr. Stilinski," he drawled, slowly walking toward him. "Let me paint one of my own...Scott McCall finds his best friend bloodied and beaten to a pulp."

Stiles stiffened, nervously eyeing the ten inches between him and Gerard.

"How does that sound?"

"I think I might prefer more of a still-life or landscape, you know?" Stiles couldn't help but be a smartass. When in fear, mouth your way out of it—that was his motto. "What—what are you, ninety? Look, I can probably kick your ass up and down this room."

Gerard's hand came out and backhanded him before he could blink. Boyd and Erica gasped as he fell to the cement floor while Gerard grabbed the front of his jersey to add to his beating.

"Okay, wait," Stiles spat out some blood after a punch to the face. "Wait, wait, wait!"

Down the road, where Olivia was illegally driving Derek's Camaro, she winched, cupping her cheek with her hand. At the more urgent whispering in her head, telling her tales of Stiles' misfortune, she pressed on the gas and pulled to a stop across the street from the Argents house.

She had taken the car keys from Derek and just started driving. She stopped fighting the feeling in her that could just find Stiles and like it take control. And it worked, it led her right to the Argents.

Now the only problem was getting him out of there without Gerard killing her. She didn't think that Allison would be any help—and she sure as hell hoped that the youngest Argent had nothing to do with Stiles' kidnapping—but there was one Argent who was more moral than the others. Chris Argent had always been about the Argent code and Stiles didn't fall under it at all. He was innocent and he was human. He was good.

So, Chris Argent was her only hope at the moment. How ironic, a Hale hoping an Argent would help them.

She got out of the Camaro and snuck over to the huge house. She couldn't just ring the doorbell, so she was careful not to be seen by any rogue hunters as she peeked into the windows on the main floor, trying to see a glimpse of Mr. Argent. It was her luck that he walked into the kitchen just as she peeked into one of the windows there.

She gently knocked on the window to get his attention, flinching when he pulled out his gun in surprise.

Olivia raised her hands, showing him that she meant no harm, and Mr. Argent sighed. He walked over to the window and opened it; there were worry lines all over his face and a sadness to him that was almost shocking.

"You're not safe here, Olivia."

"I know I'm not," Olivia whispered. "but Stiles, he's human."

Mr. Argent nodded, dragging a hand down his stressed face. "I know."

"You know, you guys say you're all about protecting humans against werewolves but look at you," she shook her head. "Stiles was kidnapped by your father. He's in this house, he's human, and he's hurt."

"You're right, Olivia," Mr. Argent said quietly. "Just—just wait here for a second. Don't let yourself be seen."

Olivia nodded and stepped back from the window as he shut it. She waited in the dark, shifting from foot to foot, for five minutes before Mr. Argent appeared, helping a black-and-blue Stiles with him.

"Oh, my God, Stiles," Olivia hissed, stepping forward to gently cup his face in her hands; Stiles winced. "Are you okay? What the hell did he do to you?"

"Livvy, I'm okay," Stiles croaked as she left go of his face to quickly check him for any other injuries. He grabbed her hands, keeping them still. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Olivia shook her head and shook his hand away, pressing her fingertips against his chin to tilt his head. "Look at you."

He took them from his face and pressed a quick kiss against them before squeezing her hand. "I'm okay," he enjoyed the surprised look on her face. "I just want to go home."

Olivia nodded shakily. "Your dad's been worried about you," as they started to over to the Camaro, she nodded once at Mr. Argent, who nodded back. "He put out an APB on you."

"Really?" Stiles' voice was soft, defeated; it made Olivia's heart break. "Wait, did you drive here? Derek let you drive?"

"Why do you say that with such surprise?" she opened the passenger door for him and he hesitated before getting in.

He waited until she was in the driver's seat before he responded. "Livvy, you don't have your license and I've heard Derek grumble about your driving before."

"Derek grumbles about everything," Olivia rolled her eyes and started the car. "Let's get you home."

Whey they arrived at his house, Olivia stayed in the living room while Stiles went upstairs. His dad was in his room, talking on the phone with a deputy. He looked completely lost, his voice desolate. "Yeah, I'm not finding any clues here," he rubbed his forehead. "Listen if he—if he shows up at the hospital—okay, thanks," he ended the call and groaned, "Come on, Stiles. Where the hell are you?"

"I'm right here," Noah whipped around at Stiles' voice, his eyes hardening when he saw the damage done to his face. His touch was so gentle compared to the look in his eyes that it made Stiles start to tear up. "It's okay, Dad. It's okay."

Noah moved his face slightly so he could get a better look at the shiner under his right eye. "Who did it?"

"It's okay," Stiles' voice wavered. He didn't want to lie but what was he supposed to do? Tell his dad that his ancient principal beat him up because he was in the middle of a war between werewolves and hunters? "It was just a couple of kids from the other team. You know, they were really pissed about losing and I was—I was mouthing off, you know?"

Because that's what he did. He mouthed off because he couldn't do anything else. He couldn't protect himself, he couldn't protect his dad or Scott or Olivia.

"The next thing I know—"

Noah cut off his explanation. "Who was it?"

"Dad, I don't know. I didn't even see them, really."

Noah's chest heaved with anger. "I want descriptions."

"Dad, come on. It's not even that bad."

"I'm calling that school," Noah declared, getting worked up. "I'm calling them and I'll personally go down there and I'm gonna pistol-whip those little bastards!"

"Dad!" Stiles raised his voice in order to get through to Noah. "I just—I said I was okay."

Oh, how he wished that his voice didn't break on that last word. His dad could see right through him, right through the strong front he had on in order to convince himself that he was okay. But he wasn't. Not really.

"God," Noah sighed sadly, grabbing the back of Stiles' neck to pull him into a warm hug.

Stiles buried his head into his dad's shoulder, trying to keep himself from acting like an eight-year-old kid and completely breaking down into tears. He could feel Noah shaking though, maybe it was his adrenaline dying down, and it threw him. Tears stung his eyes as he gripped onto the back of Noah's jacket, clenching the material with his fingers.

Stiles stared at the framed picture of him and his mom that was always placed on nightstand right next to his Adderall. It was taken a year or so before she had gotten sick and they were at the park, him sitting in her lap on one of the swings. They were both smiling happily and Stiles even had a little red mustache from the fruit punch he must have been drinking.

He wondered what his mom would have thought about everything going on in his life. Would she be proud of him? Would she be glad that she stuck to his best friend's side and helped out the best he could? Or would she be disappointed that he got himself into the mess in the first place?

He didn't want to think about his mom being disappointed in him, though. There was already too much disappointment racing through his own head, so he couldn't handle his mom's too. In the middle of all this mess, this war, he had been the one who needed to be rescued. He was the one who had Olivia travel into enemy territory just to make sure he was okay. He was the one who couldn't help Erica and Boyd.

He felt so useless, unneeded. A human in the middle of a group of supernatural beings.

"Dad, I'm fine," Stiles called when there was a light knock on the door. He had told Noah to send Olivia home so he could mope around, so it couldn't be her. Another knock; Stiles scrambled off his bed, annoyed. "Dad, I said I'm fine."

He roughly pulled open the door, only to deflate when he saw that it was Olivia on the other side.

"Told your dad to send me away, huh?" she walked into his room without an invitation.

Stiles sighed and shut the door after her, rubbing the back of his neck. "Livvy, it's not like that. I just want to be alone."

"I understand that," she nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. He was distracted when he noticed that she was still wearing his jersey. "and I get it, but shit's hit the fan, Stiles. Jackson's in this weird stage of metamorphosis, Allison's off the rails—"

Stiles scoffed. "And I'm supposed to do something about that?" he asked bitterly. "I think you're forgetting who you're talking to, Olivia. I'm not Scott, I can't just swoop in and save the day."

"You're not Scott, you're Stiles," Olivia's voice was sharp and her cobalt-blue eyes held a hint of sadness and irritation to them as she stepped toward him. "No one's asking you to be anyone but yourself. We don't need another Scott, we need you."

"Well, Stiles can't help."

"Stiles can," Olivia corrected him, shaking her head. "You're the glue, sweetcheeks. You hold us all together and you find out what's wrong and you help solve it. You're the one who knew that Matt was controlling Jackson, you're the one who found out that Peter was the alpha..."

Stiles' heart raced as Olivia ranted passionately. Anyone else would have thought that she was angry, and maybe she was, but not Stiles. He could see the love in her eyes, the sadness at the way he felt about himself, the disbelief that he wasn't believing her, the urgency to get through his thick head and make him see sense.

"So, don't you dare say that you can't help, okay? Because we need you—I need you," Olivia finished passionately and eyed the smile on Stiles' face. "You're smiling. Why are you smiling?"

"I'm not smiling."

"Yes, you are," she marched up at him and pressed a finger to the corner of his quirked lips. "Right there, you're smiling. I was being so serious and so heartfelt and you're just smiling at me?"

"You so like me."

Olivia looked caught off guard by his statement, making his grin widen. "Stiles!"

"What? It's obvious," Stiles chuckled. "Can you repeat the last part. Where you said you needed me?"

"I'm gonna take it back."

"You can't take it back. Nice try, though."

It was crazy how Olivia could just snap him out of something. He'd been in the middle of a tense one-person-only self-hate session when she'd come up to his room without being invited and told him what was really going on. And what she said had actually worked, too. Stiles was a stubborn bastard, everyone knew that, and he didn't like being wrong. But damn it if she didn't change his mind, even if it would only work for a little while.

This was why he loved her. Olivia hid her emotions but she wasn't a robot. She cared almost as deeply as anyone he had ever met. She was protective and comforting and beautiful and smart and nerdy. She was serious but she was able to laugh, too. There was an innocence about her but no naivety. She was blunt but still cared about how someone felt. They bickered like crazy but she melted around him.

And he was just as affected by her.

Stiles opened his mouth to tell Olivia that he loved her—like, he was actually in love with her—but at the same moment, her phone rang. She apologized, telling him that it was Derek, and put the phone on speaker.

"What's happening with Jackson?" she asked her cousin without a greeting.

"Scott and Isaac say that he's in some kind of transparent casing. We think it's the venom that comes out of his claws."

"That is horrifying," Stiles mumbled under his breath, earning a look of agreement from Olivia.

"They also say that he's starting to move," Derek added. "Peter and I found something in the Hale archives. Apparently, what we've seen from Jackson is just the kanima's beta shape."

Olivia sighed in frustration. "Meaning that he can evolve?"

"Yeah, into something worse," Derek confirmed. "Look, we're meeting with Scott and Isaac in the warehouse district. They're bringing Jackson with them."

"Okay, we'll meet you there."

"You need to bring Lydia," Peter injected and Stiles was glad that Olivia told him about his resurrection earlier in the week because that would have been quite the shock. "I think she can save Jackson."

Olivia blinked in shock. "Uh, yeah, I'll get her. See you soon." She slipped the phone into her pocket. "Come on, let's go."

Stiles hesitated. "Wait, Livvy," he grabbed her arm so she wouldn't leave the room. "I don't think you should go."

Olivia raised her eyebrows at him and repeated his words, as if she didn't hear him right. "You don't think I should go?"

"That's what I said."

"Stiles, if I can help Jackson by bringing Lydia to him, I will."

"You could get hurt."

"I don't care about me," Olivia waved him off.

"Yeah, well, I do," Stiles raised his voice, catching her off guard. "I'd be devastated if you get hurt and if you die, I'll literally got out of my fucking mind."

Olivia's tense body relaxed. "Stiles..."

"Death doesn't happen to you, Olivia," Stiles continued over her, wishing that she would just see how much he loved and cared for her. "It happens to everyone around you, okay? To all the people left standing at your funeral, trying to figure out how they're gonna live the rest of their lives without you in it."

"Stiles."

"And you think you're so invincible but you're not—and I can't just stand back and watch you get hurt—how am I supposed to even—you don't even realize—"

Stiles was abruptly cut off when a warm pair of lips pressed themselves against his. The kiss didn't last long as it was intended to shut him up, but somehow Stiles managed to stare down at Olivia wide-eyed the whole time.

Olivia smiled when she pulled away, amused by the look of amazement on his face. "You know, this relationship isn't gonna work if you're telling me what I can and cannot do."

Stiles blinked rapidly, spluttering. "Relationship?"

He grinned when she winced in embarrassment. He wasn't laughing at her, he wasn't. He was just so damn happy because, holy shit, she had basically admitted her feelings for him. Yeah, she didn't say the words but he knew. He knew from the way she came for him, the way she'd text him a funny meme in the middle of the night, the way she'd seek comfort from him and give it in return. He knew from the way she smiled at him because no one—not even Derek, Lydia, or Sirius—got that smile, the one were her eyes would sparkle and she'd bit her bottom lip just a little without realizing.

Olivia gave him an exasperated look. "We don't have time for this, Stiles."

"Okay, okay," Stiles nodded. "Just tell me you love me and we'll go."

"I love you, Stiles," Olivia deadpanned but he knew she meant every word. "Can we go get Lydia now?"

"Yes," Stiles let her lead the way from his bedroom. "I love you, too."

"I know."

"How do you even know all of this stuff?"

Olivia looked up from the message she got from Peter at Stiles' question. It wasn't for her, it was directed to Lydia, who was sitting in the backseat as they drove to the warehouse district.

"Liv told me," Lydia stated matter-of-factly.

Stiles' head whipped to Olivia. "You told her?"

"She deserved to know," she defended herself. "and is this really the time to talk about this? We're about there."

"Fine."

Lydia leaned forward, giving her cousin a serious look. "What do I have to do?"

"Peter said that because I'm an anchor, I can start the process of getting him back to himself. Once I call Jackson's name, you're the one who's gonna finish it," Olivia told her quietly, knowing how much this was going to mean to both Lydia and Jackson. "Did you bring the key?"

"What? What key? Did I miss something?"

They both ignored Stiles. "Yeah," Lydia confirmed before reaching around her neck to unclasp the silver chain that held the key to Jackson's house. "I got it."

Olivia gave her a sad but comforting smile. "It's gonna be okay, Lyds. You can do it for Jackson."

Lydia nodded, clenching the key tightly. "For Jackson."

"We're coming up to the warehouse," Stiles warned them. "Seatbelts?"

Olivia and Lydia straightened in their seats and held on as Stiles crashed his Jeep through the thin metal sheet surrounding the warehouse and then rapidly turned the wheel so he could run right into the kanima. There was a moment where everyone stopped and stared and then Olivia was opening her door and she and Lydia were getting out of the Jeep.

"Jackson!" Olivia yelled for her friend, getting the kanima's attention.

The kanima turned toward her, cocking its head, and Lydia stepped forward. "Jackson?" she whimpered as the kanima crawled toward her, holding up Jackson's key. "Jackson."

Olivia nervously gripped Stiles' arm as he came up beside her, watching as the kanima froze, its eyes on the shiny key in Lydia's hand. It stopped and stared for a long, nerve-wracking moment.

And then the neon green of its eyes started to fade and Jackson's blue hue started to appear. His scales turned back into bare skin and dirty-blonde hair appeared. As Jackson silently took the key from Lydia, his venomous claws turned into blunt fingernails. His eyes met Lydia's wet ones and Olivia could feel tears in her eyes from the look they shared alone.

Jackson nodded slowly and carefully stepped away from Lydia. He stood still and raised his arms defenselessly, allowing Derek and Peter, both of them in their werewolf forms, to lunge at them. Olivia gasped sadly and squeezed Stiles' hand as they tore their claws into them.

Lydia rushed forward as Jackson fell to the dirty ground, catching him just before his body hit the concrete. Olivia covered her mouth tearfully as Lydia sobbed, cradling a dying Jackson in her lap.

"Do you—" Jackson choked. "Do you still...?"

"I do," Lydia assured him quickly, more tears falling down her face. "I do still love you. I do. I still love you."

Jackson nodded slowly, his eyes falling shut and his body slumping as his heart stopped beating. Stiles wrapped an arm around Olivia's shoulders, offering comfort, and she burrowed her face in his chest, wishing that things had been different. That they had been able to save Jackson.

She allowed herself a few seconds before pulling away from Stiles and going to Lydia. Lydia took her offered embrace without a word, sobbing heavily into Olivia's shoulders. More tears fell down Olivia's cheeks as she hugged her cousin tightly, only to stiffen when she saw movement coming from Jackson's fingers.

"Jackson?"

Jackson's eyes opened, a brilliant bright blue. The same blue that Derek had before he had turned into an alpha. Werewolf blue. Lydia whipped around to face him as Olivia sighed in relief.

Jackson got to his feet, his features turning to what they should have been all along, and tilted his head back, howling loudly. The howl ended and his human features reappeared, allowing him to gaze nervously at Lydia and Olivia.

Olivia laughed lightly because, of course, Jackson just had to have a dramatic transformation to match his dramatic ass. She grinned as Lydia jumped from her arms to his, wrapping him in the tightly hug she had ever seen.

She turned away from Lydia and Jackson to give them their privacy, very relieved that Jackson had survived. The heaviness that had been on her chest since the end of the lacrosse game had lifted because he was safe and healthy.

As she went back to Stiles side, he grinned softly at her. "You've got some mascara," he pointed to the corner of his eye. "rigghhht there."

She glowered at him. "I hate you."

"Sure, you do, ya big fluffball."

(Gif is not mine)

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x original character

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chaoticdean · 4 years

Text

I know when you go down all your darkest roads

Monday 9 — prompt: undercover

Dean and Castiel go undercover as a couple going through couple therapy, in order to catch a monster that specifically targets couples dealing with issues, feeding on their distress, anger, and pain.

~ 2.6K

Warning: this story will be coming in at least 2 chapters, the second part will be posted next Monday as part of the Monday 10 prompt (free choice). Feel free to ask for me to tag you in any updates :)

Host : @bend-me-shape-me, @helianthus21 & @pray4jensen ♡

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Going undercover as a couple would have been a brilliant idea to catch the monster they are after if only he wasn’t going undercover as a couple with Cas.

Not to get your ideas twisted, the situation felt more like a dream than a nightmare for Dean, which was the whole damn problem. It was far too easy to lose himself into the false pretense of them being an actual couple, to the point where he actually craved the connection.

“Dean? Are you listening?” Cas asks, and Dean realizes he’s been zoning out for two minutes.

“Yeah, sorry Cas. You were saying?”

“Sam thinks we’re hunting an Algea. They were the personified spirits of pain and suffering, grief, sorrow and distress, bringers of weeping and tears. The Algea were related to Oizys…”

They’ve been here for 12 hours, trying to catch a monster that specifically targets couples dealing with issues, feeding on their distress, anger, and pain. So far, 2 people have died here, at the Greystone Retreat in Nashville Tennessee, and the best way they found to try and bring it down was to go undercover as a couple having issues with their marriage.

Which would have been a brilliant idea, if Dean fucking Winchester wasn’t such a sucker for Castiel.

But choices were made, and his feelings for his best friend didn’t weigh heavily over saving dozens of people from a murderous maniac supernatural being. So obviously, when Sam pitched the idea, he and Cas were both immediately on board.

“You’re not listening to me.”

Cas’s voice suddenly breaks through his mind and he looks up to him from where he’s sitting on the bed. His tone isn’t questioning, it’s acknowledging.

“Silver kills it, a bullet through the heart. Right?” Dean finally answers, locking with Castiel’s cobalt blue eyes.

The angel is wearing a very different outfit from what he’s used to — “if we’re gonna sell the part about you and me being married, you’re gonna have to wear anything other than this dirty trench-coat and freaking suit that I’ve seen you in for a decade, Cas” Dean had said — and boy oh boy was it a mistake to request for him to wear this.

He’s wearing one of Dean’s pair of black jeans, the hems carefully folded to fit him perfectly, a pair of brown boots and a fitted navy shirt three buttons down that made his eyes pop.

And Dean’s going to fucking lose it at some point, because how the hell is he allowed to look this good while wearing Dean’s clothes? It feels like everything has been designed to fit every distinctive part of him in the most perfect way, and Dean is absolutely fucked.

Castiel finally sits on the chair facing the hunter, looking almost as distraught as Dean seems to be.

“What’s wrong with you? You seem very… agitated, yet not entirely there with me.” He asks, tilting his head in that particular gesture that was so Cas.

“I’m fine, Cas. I’m just tired. I’m gonna try and get some sleep if you don’t mind, you can keep on with the research if you want to.”

“Actually, I was thinking…” he stops, hesitating, his eyes flickering to the king-sized bed Dean is sitting on, “We should probably sleep together to maintain cover, if either the Algea during the night or the staff tomorrow morning comes in?”

Dean feels simultaneously like his heart has dropped ten stories and is gonna burst on fire. It didn’t occur to him that they might have to literally take their cover to bed.

He’s suddenly not entirely sure that this is either a dream or a nightmare.

“Dean?” Cas’s voice brings him back again, and he’s left staring into the angel’s blues.

“Y-yeah you’re right” he stutters, trying to keep his face neutral while his stomach is making loops inside, “we never know. Are you actually gonna sleep?”

A decade ago, Castiel didn’t need to sleep and would have gladly kept on doing research — or flown out to god knows where angels went after midnight— until the brothers would’ve been up and ready to go. Today was a different story, and he actually needed some sleep every now and then to recharge his angelic batteries. Judging by the yawn that just escaped his mouth, Dean figures tonight is one of those nights.

“Yeah, I think I might. Did you pack anything for me to sleep in? I think my sweatpants stayed in the bunker” Cas says with a soft smile.

Dean sighs, checking through his duffel bag to bring out a pair of navy sweatpants that seems to be there specifically for Cas — God bless Sam, but also fuck him a little, cause the color of these sweatpants completely matches Castiel navy shirt and God the things this color does to Castiel’s entire appearance should be fucking illegal.

Castiel thanks him and calls dibs on the shower, leaving Dean alone with his thoughts for 10 minutes, which he uses to check his emails, text Jack to make sure the kid is still alive and well watching Netflix in the bunker, and text Sam. When Cas comes out, wearing nothing but the damn sweatpants, his hair still wet from the shower sticking in 12 different directions and his chest entirely exposed, Dean feels like his eyes might drop to his feet and his head might explode. Thankfully, Castiel doesn’t seem to realize the effects he has on Dean.

“Can I borrow one of your shirts? I’m afraid I completely forgot to bring anything to sleep in. I can sleep like this if you don’t have a spare one” he says, rubbing his face in a way that makes him look inherently human.

“Yeah, sure. Here, take this one” Dean answers, tossing him an old well-worn Ramones shirt that he’s sure has been his for more than two decades.

Watching him put on his shirt, Dean is suddenly convinced the whole damn universe wants him dead. The thought of Castiel going back to his god-awful suit that hides his broad shoulders and, quite frankly, each of Cas’s most flattering body parts after this is almost insufferable right now.

“I thought you were going to the shower after me? Dean, are you alright?” Cas asks, visibly concerned by his partner’s apathy

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going. Jesus fucking Christ, for the last time, I’m fine!” Dean answers, trying to keep himself in check cause now is not the time to fucking lose it, Winchester.

But even the cold shower he inflicts himself with doesn’t seem to help with anything. When he gets back into their room, Castiel is already in bed, cuddled up into one of the cushions. If he didn’t know better, Dean would think he was already asleep. Silently slipping under the covers next to him, Dean lies on his side to watch him. The angel smiles softly.

“D’you keep wondering if I’m okay because you’re the one who’s actually not okay, Cas?” Dean asks, his voice low, watching the Angel for any kind of reaction.

“I think couple’s therapy is getting to your head, Dean.” Castiel chuckles, trying to sound offended.

“Bite me, Dr. Seuss.”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking” Cas answers with a dramatic roll of his eyes that makes Dean smile even wider “Should we sleep now?”

“Yeah, yeah sleeping beauty. I’ll turn the lights off.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

“‘Night, Cas.”

***

Dean wakes up screaming from a nightmare, the room still dark and Castiel hands on his shoulders. Nightmares from his time in hell don’t occur as much as they used to, but when they do it’s fucking pathetic how they turn Dean into an absolute mess.

“Dean.”

Castiel’s voice acts as a calming balm over the scars of Dean’s mind. He’s turned on the bedside table’s light, and Dean can see how concerned he is when he looks into his eyes.

“You’re okay. I’m right here. Breathe.”

Dean sits up on the bed, suddenly realizing he’s covered in sweat and fuck, his head hurts like hell. One of Castiel’s hand finds its way to Dean shoulder, anchoring him to reality while he presses his face into his palms.

“You’re okay. I’m right here. Breathe.” Castiel repeats, and as much as Dean hates feeling vulnerable, he’s okay with feeling vulnerable with Cas right now.

Castiel’s hand moves to his back, softly massaging his skin into soothing circles. He feels his body moving beside him, and suddenly Castiel’s face is pressed into his shoulder, his whole body against him.

“You’re okay. I’m right here. Breathe.” Cas says again, like a mantra.

Dean closes his eyes again, listening to the calm in Castiel’s voice, enjoying the warmth of his body. After a while, his breath goes back to normal and he opens his eyes again, turning his face so that he can see Cas’s. The angel looks at him, although not moving from the spot on his shoulder where he seems completely content. And not removing his hand from his back either.

Not that Dean would actually complain.

“Thank you.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cas asks, although he seems to already know the answer.

“Not really.”

Castiel gives him a small, reassuring smile, and starts removing himself from Dean’s personal space. The spot he occupied on his shoulder feels cold and the traces of his hand on his spine left tingles on every square of his skin. Dean reaches out, pulling Castiel’s wrist before the angel gets back to his sleep position.

“Cas, I don’t… Can you…”

There’s a beat in the room, and Castiel’s face softens. Dean has never asked Cas — or anyone in four decades — to stay with him after a nightmare. But he also never shared a bed with Cas in over a decade of knowing him, and the fact that he just spends half the day posing as his husband might have given him wings. And he could swear he sees a glimmer inside those ocean blues.

“Of course, Dean.”

The hunter falls back onto the mattress, and suddenly Castiel is there against him. It takes them a minute to adjust to each other, Castiel finding his spot in the crook of Dean’s neck, tucking his head right below his chin. Dean instantly wraps his arms around him, breathing in his scent — cheap shampoo, a hint of citrus and something he can never quite figure out —, his heart still thundering beneath Cas’s cheek.

“This is how it should be every other night” is the last thought that comes to Dean’s mind right before he falls back into the dark limbos of sleep again.

***

The unpleasant sound of an equally unpleasant alarm clock suddenly rips Dean away from a very comfortable sleep. Coming back to his senses, he quickly assesses the other body pressed against his, the other arm tucked around his waist, the face breathing hot against the skin of his neck, and the events from last night come back in waves.

His nightmares, Castiel’s soothing hand and voice, Dean basically asking him to cuddle back to sleep —

Shit.

Lost in the sensations, Dean doesn’t realize right away how something seems to be going on below his waist.

And Castiel is starting to move against him.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Dean rapidly strips aways from a very sleepy angel, grabbing his jeans and tee-shirt to cover his prominent boner, and makes his way to the bathroom. The whole thing must have lasted 15 seconds tops, and suddenly he is alone with his dignity and half-hard cock.

Jesus Christ, let’s hope this cold shower does the trick, cause there’s no way he’s taking care of this 5 feet away from the reason why he’s like this in the first place.

Thankfully it does, and it takes Dean about 10mn to get back to the room fully showered and dressed, although still dizzy.

Castiel is still in bed and judging by his face, grumpily so.

And to Dean’s demise, he looks freaking fabulous. His bed hair is glorious, and the visible scruff on his face makes Dean want to crawl back into bed with his angel.

Control yourself Winchester, he thinks, briefly wondering when he started thinking of Cas as “his angel”. Probably somewhere between last night’s cuddle and 10 fucking years ago is the only answer that comes to mind.

Not that anything happened between them inside that bed, other than a reassuring presence in each other’s personal space.

But damn, Dean would do anything for this to happen over and over again.

Maybe he should.

“Morning, sunshine.” Dean says while sitting back on the edge of the bed, putting on his boots.

Castiel turns on his side to look at the hunter’s back, studying Dean’s movements.

“Dean, I love you, but it’s entirely too early to be awake.” Castiel sighs, and Dean’s heart explodes against his ribcage.

“It’s 8 am, what the fuck are you even talking about? Aren’t your angelic batteries charged up enough yet?”

“Not even remotely close. I feel like I’ve been rolled over by a garbage truck, while simultaneously being ripped apart by a shredder.” Cas says, his voice indeed sounding very tired.

“Oh, fancy.” Dean reacts, glancing at Castiel’s face and meeting his eyes “You’re gonna be okay, though?” He asks with a tiny smile.

“Yeah, yeah. Go get breakfast I’ll join you in 10.”

“Not sure it poses as a steady couple if we show up at separate times.”

“But I thought the whole point was to appear as a struggling couple?”

“Yeah, okay. See you in 10.”

Dean gives his partner a smile as he grabs his jacket on the back of the chair and leaves the room, letting Castiel struggle with his morning grump. He makes his way to the facility’s breakfast room, which is surprisingly crowded. The buffet is filled with stuff that makes the hunter’s stomach growl, and by the time Castiel joins him — wearing that damn navy shirt that makes Dean’s heart grow 10 times again — he’s already on his second set of pancakes.

“Anyone talked to you yet?” He asks, dropping on the chair facing Dean

“Nah. Here, I got you coffee. Figured it wouldn’t hurt your garbage-truck-slash-shredder body struggle.” Dean says with a smile, pushing a white paper cup towards the angel.

Castiel smiles at Dean softly, which Dean realizes he’s been doing a lot recently, and accepts the cup with a nod.

“Did you sleep okay? You know, after the.. nightmare.” He asks, carefully trying not to step into Dean’s feelings.

“Yeah. Thank you, Cas. For… well, you know.” Dean says.

He’s about to continue when the face of an employee of the facility appears in his field of view, and he immediately put on the mask of Dean Cartellone, who has been married to Castiel Cartellone for 2 years.

“Mister and Mister Cartellone! How is it going this morning?” The man asks with so much enthusiast in his voice it actually makes Dean’s brain tweak.

“Slowly” Cas grumbles into his coffee, clearly wanting nothing more than being left alone.

Dean gives him a look, and quick smile at the man, challenging his voice with as much enthusiast as the man — Steve, as the name tag said.

“Good, thanks Steve. What’s the program this morning?”

20 minutes after, Dean and Cas find themselves sitting on a couch in front of a therapist, and now Dean’s fucking convinced this was the worst idea they’ve ever had in a decade.

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