#in your bed it drives me crazy when people refuse to acknowledge that i remember in high school i told my sister like if you were on a

[imthebadguyyy]

Temporary Fix

Pairing - Lewis Hamilton x Reader (fem!F1 driver!reader)

Fandom - F1

Summary - You're the only female F1 driver, and you're damn good at your job. Oh, and you also have a friends with benefits relationship with a certain 7x World Champion.

Warnings - smut, best friends -> lovers, slight exhibitionism

A/N - you have the second merc seat in this, so Valterri isn't here : (( not proof read

Sometimes, you hated yourself for following your passion. Driving a F1 car had been your dream ever since you could remember. The long process from karting to F1 had been a difficult one. When you were seven, you had a go kart track manager that you couldn't race there because you were a girl. That had cemented your will to be the best you could be, and you had done it.

You had made it into a Mercedes F1 seat after spending two years in Williams. It was safe to say that you were one of the best drivers, with killer instinct and an excellent eye for overtakes. The likes of Mika Hakkinen, Niki Lauda, Jacques Villeneuve and others had praised your skills, naming you one of the best talents in the current driver pool.

But the glory, the fame, the praise, sometimes you wished you could just evaporate into thin air. This was one of those times. Press conferences sucked, they really did. Reporters and journalists thought they were entitled to ask you the most sexist of questions, brushing them off by saying it was 'just a simple question'. Sometimes the drivers you were paired up with defended you, like Seb or Pierre or Lewis or even Kimi. Sometimes people didn't want to say anything, or they just laughed it off or answered for you.

This was not one of those times. Charles was supposed to be your partner for the press conference, but he wasn't feeling too great so you were on your own. It had started off fine, with the usual questions like 'how are you feeling about the race?' 'is it gonna be a good weekend for Mercedes?' and then it had gone to 'Do you think you being the only woman here, you should have a special suit?' or 'Are you sure it's a good idea for you to continue another year in F1?' that's what had irked you off.

With a roll of your eyes and a shake of your head, you bit back the cutting response that had sprung to your lips, opting to simply look disapprovingly in silence, speaking more words in the quiet. Eventually, the conference was over, and you made your way out of the hall, deep in thought, so lost in your own world, you didn't notice when a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into one of the nearby storage closets.

Your protest of "Hey!-" was cut off by a pair of lips pressing to yours, strong arms wrapping around your torso. "Heard you had a bad day with the press" Lewis mumbled against your lips, brow furrowing when you sighed and let your head drop onto his shoulder. "Yeah they're such fucking jerks" you replied, closing your eyes. "I'm sorry you have to deal with them every time" he continued, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Eh, I mean I'd rather not talk about it" you continued, letting your fingers trace a pattern on his chest.

The silence in the room was disturbed by the ringing of Lewis's phone, making you jump softly. "Bono" he answered, looking down at the screen. "Pick it up"

"Hello?"

"Lewis, we're waiting for the meeting? And is Y/N with you?" Bono's voice rang through the tiny closet, as you turned to look at Lewis with wide eyes. Shit, the debrief. "Yeah, I'm coming! Oh, and I'll see if I can find Y/N" he replied, making you suppress a smile. The moment he put the phone down, the both of you burst into giggles, before he leaned down to press another kiss to your lips. "Well, we should go" he said, biting back a smile when you sighed, and cuddled into his shoulder. "Fine"

"But I'll make it up to you tonight baby" he continued, as a shiver ran down your spine. Oh yeah, you two had a friends with benefits situation going on too. No biggie

Except, well, you know you couldn't tell anyone, and you were definitely in love with each other, but I mean, of course it was better to be stupid and just simply refuse to acknowledge those feelings for each other.

♥︎☾☁︎

It had happened, when Lewis won his championship in Turkey. The team had thrown a (socially distant) party, and you had gotten just a little more drunk than you should have, but the champagne was flowing, tequila shots were being taken, beer was being chugged so you just jumped in and had a few more glasses of wine than you should have, and participated in a few rounds of shots.

Before you had known, a pair of hot lips had crashed onto yours, and your arms had tightly held onto a broad pair of shoulders, as the pair of you had stumbled up to your hotel room, crashing backwards onto the bed. Your drunken mind had been sober enough to recognise the 'Still I Rise' tattoo across his back when he tugged his shirt off.

At the same time, Lewis had recognised your face, heart speeding up ever so slightly because holy shit he was making out with you, and he really, really liked you. Before he knew it, your dress was down to your knees, and his shirt was a rumpled mess on the floor, your friendship gone far beyond repair, but only in the best way possible.

The next morning, you had let out a groan when the sunshine had flashed into your eyes, rolling over to find Lewis lying next to you, his arm wrapped around your waist as he slept peacefully. Your heart rate had sped up, and you had shot up, scaring the living day light out of Lewis. He had awoken with a start, confusion present in his brown eyes, before realization had sunk in, and he had shot out of bed, wrapping one of the towels around his lower body.

But before the two of you could get awkward, he had strutted over to you, grabbing your face in his hands before pulling you in for a kiss that made you feel weak and light headed.

And then the both of you came to the conclusion that you two wanted something loose and flexible, something fun with no commitment.

But was it what you wanted?

♥︎☾☁︎

Sometimes debriefs could drag on. And on. And on. Eventually, the engineers left the room, leaving only Toto, Lewis, Bono, Angela, James and yourself in the room. Over the years, it had become like a family for you, and you loved them to absolute bits. The mood in the room had changed, as you all joked around for a while.

Watching from the other side of the room, Lewis couldn't help the smile that etched itself onto his face, when he saw you throw your head back with laughter at something Toto said, inhaling sharply when your neck came into clear view, a sudden urge to mark you up settling in on his body.

It was a thrill, to think of how many times you had come undone on his fingers and his tongue, how many nights you begged for him to fill you up with his cock. It was a thrill to think of all the times he had cried your name out in ecstasy while your tongue worked wonders around him. And yet, here you were, acting as if you two were just best friends, not two people who could barely keep their hands off of each other.

Just two nights ago, he had made you scream his name so loud, the person the next room, who just happened to be Daniel, had not let him hear the end of it. Thankfully, the Aussie hadn't realized it was you in his bed. Two nights ago, he had made you see stars, and after that you had rewarded him with the performance of his life to Nights Like This by Kehlani.

Snapping back to reality when a slight poke was applied to his shoulder, Lewis looked over to see Angela looking at him with a slight smirk on her face. He strongly suspected that the woman definitely had some sort of inkling about the both of you. How ? No idea. But she was a crazy smart woman, and was bound to have figured out that he was seeing someone.

It didn't help that atleast half the people on the grid had at some point teased him, telling him the both of you were made for each other. It was like the universe was pushing the both of you to be together, and he kept pushing it away

"So are we feeling confident going into this weekend?" Toto asked, grabbing his attention from the smirking blonde.

"Yup!" Your cheery answer elicited a smile from everyone in the room. "Yeah I think so" he said, watching as you flashed him a quick smile. "Okay, then, I think we're done for now. Any questions?" Bono asked, scanning a data sheet in front of him. "No, i'm good" you replied, reaching over to grab your phone. "Yeah me too" Lewis said, far too concerned with what was going to happen later that night to pay his full attention to Bono.

"Okay then. We'll see you tomorrow"

And with that they departed. Before Lewis could follow you, a hand grabbed his and he turned to see Angela, Toto and Bono looking at him expectantly. "So whose got you all distracted and flustered?" Angela asked, earning a smirk from Toto. "What? No one" he replied, slapping himself mentally for being all day dreamy during a meeting. "Oh really? I'm willing to bet you didn't hear anything I said during the meet except the last bit" Bono said, smiling when his driver got visibly flustered.

"So do we know her?" Angela continued, watching him closely for any giveaway reactions. "How would you know her if I don't like anyone?" Lewis said, hoping to God it didn't come across as awkward as it sounded.

"Never said you liked anyone. I'm saying you're in love with someone" Angela said, watching as her friend's eyes widened in shock, and he shook his head profusely. "Okay are you on something? I'm just gonna head back to the hotel now" he murmured, confused, and somewhat taken aback by her bluntness.

Ignoring the looks on the others faces, he made his way out to the paddock, trying his hardest to make sense of his feelings. Was a casual relationship with you what he wanted? He wanted so much more than that.

Lewis knew, deep down in his heart, that he wanted to hold your hand in public, and kiss you right on the lips in front of everyone when you shared a podium. He wanted to be able to call you his, to not just spend the night with you, but to spend all his days with you. But you didn't want that.

Or so he thought.

♥︎☾☁︎

Back at the hotel, Lewis busied himself with working out, trying to push all his frustrations out via the workout. He knew that you were going to turn up in the night, and he looked so damn forward to seeing you each night, but god, he hated it when you left in the morning. Every morning when your warm body slipped out from under the sheet, his arms would tighten for a moment, before your giggle would bring him back to reality and he'd hastily draw back, smiling at you. His favourite moment was when he came to your hotel room in Spain. In the morning, he had woken up before you, and before leaving, he had pressed a little kiss to your forehead. The most gorgeous smile had curled onto your lips, and his heart had melted into a little puddle when you rested your cheek on his hand

And then in Monaco, when he had taken you to his apartment, you had woken up before him, and he had woken up to the sight of you bringing a tray of pancakes and fruits, followed by a soft kiss to his cheek.

It was those moments he cherished, but it was those same moments that confused him.

His train of thought was broken when a knock echoed in the room, as he walked over to the door, opening it to find : you

"Hey" you greeted him, walking in and shedding your jacket. "Hey" he replied, reaching for a towel to wipe the sweat off of his body. "Wow um, is this a bad time?" You asked, eyes trailing down his abs, watching as his body glistened in the fading sun light. "No its fine, I just finished my workout. You hungry?" He continued, biting back a smirk when he saw your eyes roaming his body.

"W-what? Yeah, i, um, suppose - yeah" you murmured, mind already far down the gutter.

"For food darling, not for sex" he said, making you blush and let out a small gasp. "Lewis!" You chided, shoving him softly. "You know you were thinking it" he mumbled, pushing you up against the wall. "Yeah I was" you whispered back, yanking him forward by his shoulders, slamming your lips against his.

Lifting you up from the waist, he pressed his body further into yours, one of his hands wandering down to your ass, squeezing harshly, earning a moan from your lips. Taking the opportunity, he pushed his tongue into your mouth, groaning when you let your core grind against him.

Leading you towards the bed, he stopped in confusion when you stopped him, maneuvering him towards the balcony. "Want you to fuck me against the window or in the balcony" you gasped out, earning a moan from him.

"Right where anyone could see us, hmm? Didn't know you were into that baby" he growled, grabbing your earlobe in between his teeth, earning an airy gasp from you, as the wetness threatened to seep down your legs.

"Mmhmm" was all you could muster, your mind so clouded with desperation you couldn't form a single coherent thought. The only thing you were aware of was that only Lewis could make you feel the pleasure you wanted to feel, only he would take you to that little piece of heaven, only he would hold your hand and fuck you into oblivion, and he would still be there to clean you down with a sponge softly.

"If you insist"

Grabbing you roughly, he slammed your body against the massive hotel room window, ripping the mercedes team shirt you were wearing off of your quivering form, letting it drop to the floor, before he hooked his fingers into the material of your jeans, tugging the denim down your legs

With a soft groan, you pulled his nike shorts down his legs, moaning when his cock came into view, the throbbing in between your legs making you whimper, arousal and need growing tenfold in your tummy.

"Please" you whispered, meeting his eyes, so he could see the pure desperation in your eyes. "Please what?" He said, a certain roughness you hadn't heard before creeping into his voice

"Please fuck me" you moaned, gasping when he brought his hand up to your neck, squeezing ever so slightly. "Oh trust me doll, i will. But first, i want to have you dripping wet and ready for me. I want to make you cum on my fingers, so you're wet and ready for my cock. Do you want my fingers princess?" he continued, feeling his arousal grow when you whimpered and whined.

"Words baby girl. Or I'll just leave you here with your pathetic fingers. I bet you can't even reach all those spots inside you that make you scream, when your tiny little fingers try to please yourself. I bet you just feel like sinking into yourself, but the thought of my fingers keeps you awake. Do you do that, sweet girl? Do you pretend your fingers are mine when you're touching yourself, hmm?'

When you didn't answer, he delivered a smack to your ass, groaning when you moaned at the pleasurable sting. "Yes" you whispered abashed.

"Don't be shy baby. Its okay. I know you feel so good when I love on you. I can see it when you scream my name" and with that, his pointer finger began circling your clit, rubbing circles around it before shifting so he was rubbing the sensitive bud directly.

Your moans of ecstasy were music to his ear, a smile gracing his features, as he let his middle finger slip into you, thrusting it in and out of you. Your soft cry of "fuck" cracked when he shoved his pointer into you as well, scissoring them in and out of you

"Oh fucking hell Lew-" "Shh my darling, i didn't say you could talk, did I?" He said, fingers working at an indescribably quick pace, as the knot in your tummy tightened and threatened to loosen. "I'm gonna-" "go ahead baby" he murmured, using his pointer and thumb to pinch your clit roughly, as you came around his fingers with a scream

"Good girl. You wanna put that pretty little mouth to use somewhere else?" he asked, watching as you dropped to your knees eagerly, (just like I would do irl) reaching up to rest your hands on his hips.

"Someone's eager to suck my cock hmm? Be a good girl for me, and don't waste time" he ordered, a shudder running down his body when your nails traced the veins on his cock, and then as they reached downwards, your thumb circling his tip, collecting his pre cum on your finger. Then you shoved your thumb in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it, before sucking softly on your digit, rolling your eyes back. You were snapped back to reality when Lewis roughly yanked your head up, pure arousal clouding his pupils

"You better use your mouth right now, or i swear i will leave you here alone to pleasure yourself" he threatened, moaning when you took his tip into your mouth at once, sucking softly before swirling your tongue upwards.

The feel of your tongue on him made him buck his hips into your mouth, the unexpected movement pushed him quite far back in your mouth, looking up at him, you hollowed out your cheeks, taking more and more of his cock into your mouth, the sounds he was making above you fuelling you. You took him as far back as you could without gagging, as a strangled moan of "Fuck Y/N!"left his lips. He grabbed your hair, tugging upwards, the tingling on your scalp sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. "Fuck baby, you're gonna have to stop now, I really want to fuck you now" he growled out, pulling you up before pushing you towards to balcony railing

Lining up with your entrance, he watched as you let out a shaky breath, eyes falling shut, as you clenched in anticipation.

"Are you sure you want this Y/N?" he asked, eyes searching your face for any sign that he was being too rough, or that you didn't want what was coming next

"Turning your head around to face him, you pulled him in for a passionate kiss. "I've never been more sure baby" was your affirming reply.

Kissing you back with the same fervour, he slowly pushed into you from behind, the both of you groaning in sync when your walls enveloped him. "fuck you feel so good darling. So fucking tight" lewis moaned, making you moan as well as the pleasure coursed through your veins.

Reaching around you, Lewis rubbed your clit while he continued to snap his hips against yours, making your breasts bounce against your chest, your hands gripping the balcony railing for dear life. Thank god it was dark.

He continued to rub and pinch you clit, before swiping his fingers through your wet folds. Then he shoved his fingers into your mouth, prompting you to suck on them

"Be an angel and suck on my fingers for me" he growled, moaning when your mouth eagerly closed around his fingers, sucking them with fervour.

Snapping his hips into you desperately, his hands encircled your waist, pulling you back to meet his thrusts, swishing his fingers around in your mouth. "Fuck baby thats it, i'm gonna cum" he groaned, capturing your earlobe in between his teeth, moaning when you clenched down on him again

"Oh fucking hell-" with a moan, he came into you, pulling his fingers out of your mouth to rub your clit again, sighing with satisfaction when you came around him with a scream of "Lewis!"

Panting, he dragged you back to the bed, both of you collapsing into the covers.

Your chest rising and falling rapidly, you curled up into his chest, letting your head droop onto his shoulder, as his fingers traced his initials onto your hip.

"Well princess, we seem to have a problem here" he said, as you snapped your head up to look at him in confusion.

"I think i'm in love with you"

♡☾☁︎

A/N - part 2? Also feel free to drop a comment, i'd really appreciate it 🤍 thank you so much for reading 🤍

#lewis hamilton #f1 #formula 1 #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton x reader smut #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 imagines #f1 drivers smut #f1 drivers imagines #f1 drivers x reader #f1 x reader #smut #imthebadguyyyfics

[missskzbiased]

The Things We Don’t Tell

Summary: You were sure your life was written and directed to fit a sketchy Rom-Com and nobody could convince you otherwise. First, your boss was too hot to be true, and burning with desire didn’t even begin to explain the tingling sensations he left on you. Second, your coworker (a.k.a. Ex-About-to-be-FWB) insisted in turning your life into a living hell, which wasn’t the exact kind of hotness you were into. And if having these two hot men around you every single day of your life wasn’t enough to prove it, maybe the threat of your slutty secret identity about to be busted would be… But you couldn’t let this happen.

WC: 7,5 K

Genre: Smut, Humor (?)

AUs: Office, Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem!Reader X Bang Chan  

(Not really a love triangle as Hyunjin is the Lead. However, Reader wants to Bang Chan)

Rebloggable Masterlist    //   Main Masterlist   //   Tag List

Warnings: Language, Thigh riding, Public space (Office), Exhibitionism, Possessiveness, Pet Name (Baby girl), Sir Kink  

[If I forgot anything, please let me know! I’m kinda sleepy right now]

Notes: There will be at least one more chapter but I won’t do a tag list post for now, only if someone wants it, cuz I’m too lazy to think about doing it right now. This fic is an attempt to experiment with some writing style things that I’ve been wanting to try. I don’t think it worked, tho SUHAHUSAUHSUHA But that’s life

- I’ll quite possibly change the title in the future-

                                                            ///

  You are a superhero.

    Okay! To be honest, you may be exaggerating a little bit ─ a tiny harmless little bit ─ but that was how you felt every single day of your life, alright? You had this glorious and mysterious side of yours that you hid from everyone else in the world… That mask that you couldn’t let come to the ground and would fight for dear life to protect… That side to your persona that no one was allowed to meet… The fierce, bold, and dark aspects of your soul that—

    “Y/N! I want those papers on my table!”

    “Yes, sir!” You shrieked in an embarrassing (not even slightly bold) way.

    — That you couldn’t show at your work.

    Yeah… So maybe no one actually thought of you as a superhero, but you really believed someone should start to. Was there something that different between your life and those low-budget TV shows people seem to enjoy so much? You didn’t think so.

  To be fair, sometimes you felt like someone wrote a questionable script and poorly directed your life to fit you as the leading lady of a sketchy rom-com. As if they just focused on checking out every point on a bullet list made up with rules for a successful superhero office drama that wasn’t even that good…

    … And speaking of which…

    Rule Number One: The stern (maybe kinda attractive) boss!

    If you had to define Bang Chan with a couple of adjectives, you would choose undeniably beautiful ─ extremely professional of you because the right words to describe him were fucking hot ─ and committed. Fortunately, it wasn’t an “I have someone waiting for me at home and a bunch of kids I must put to sleep” kind of commitment, which would destroy your hopes of having this man one day. Unfortunately, it was an “I’m better than the header and gonna run this company by tomorrow night” kind of commitment, which destroys your hopes of a peaceful day at work.

    Now, it’s not like you don’t want to do your job! It’s just that you didn’t sign up to be Bang Chan’s perfect little toy ─ definitely not the better words to describe it ─ and you didn’t expect to be joined by the hips ─ really? ─ with him or any of your coworkers. The thing is that Bang Chan wants to be on top ─ someone has to stop you ─ and he believes the only way to get there is to work as a team and be as perfect as one can be. In other words, Bang Chan wants absolutely everything and everyone to be neat, tight, and ready to be used ─ again… Not the better way to put your thoughts into words ─, but this just wasn’t who you were.  

    It also wasn’t the point right now.

    The point right now should be the fact that Bang Chan was striding to his office looking like he owned the whole damn place… If this was a movie, the camera would be focusing on his expensive, black leather shoes before scanning all the way up to his waist in slow motion. The scene would zoom in on his fine ass only to go a little bit up and catch the shiny, black belt wrapping around his figure. The outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination, but you had a hell of a productive mind… You could think of a few things you shouldn’t really be thinking about right now.

    Bang Chan didn’t seem to understand he was at work either.

    He rolled his sleeve up in a sexy motion that should be illegal. It isn’t. You can tell by the way there are no cops bursting inside the building and arresting this gorgeous son of a bitch.

    The lack of any authorities to stop this atrocious moment had you lowering your gaze to your desk ─ a vain attempt to ignore the way his forearms flexed as he gestured and ordered people around. If you were a little bit less professional, you would have some ideas of how he could do it in bed. With you. But you weren’t some kind of creepy perv who would be fantasizing about riding your own boss from dusk till dawn.

    Not at all.

    “Do you need me, Sir?” His secretary asks politely.

  A question that you would love to ask him too… In a totally and strictly professional way, of course.

    Rule Number Two: The (extremely unnecessary) nemesis!

    The shiver running down your spine could mean only one thing: Hwang Hyunjin ─ your obnoxious coworker ─ was standing right behind you, just like a bloody damn ghost. There was no need to turn around. You knew he had his mocking eyes glued on Bang Chan’s figure, and you could feel the air shifting as he tilted his head in a silent sneer before leaning on your desk.

    You refused to turn around and acknowledge his presence; painfully aware that he would flash a wide grin while looking at you with a knowing glint in his eyes. You wouldn’t give him the taste of seeing in your face that he was right; that you were staring at your boss as if you were a starving vulture. So you did the only thing you could do in this situation: You started to work. The sheets scattered over your desk wouldn’t walk by themselves to Bang Chan’s room, right?

    And neither would you if it depended on Hyunjin.

    The attempts to swipe the papers in your direction and gather everything you needed ─ to finally get rid of Hyunjin ─ proved to be vain as his hand took root on the desk. You pursed your lips in annoyance while glancing at his prominent knuckles and slender fingers; wondering if he would be so collected if he knew you wanted to crunch them. Probably not. But he gets off so fucking much on upsetting you that he might just want to take the risk anyway.

    “What do you want, asshole?” You hissed; stopping your motions before turning around to stare blankly at him.

    The face of an angel was the most accurate way to describe the sight in front of you. Plump, pink lips molded into a sweet smile and dark brown eyes morphed into cute crescents. None of those features fit his true self, though. Underneath the angelic façade, there was a demon called Hwang Hyunjin ─ who was resting his free hand on your shoulder for no reason besides driving you crazy.

    It would be easier if he was just a pretty face, but Hyunjin had a good body too. The guy looked just like a model ─ slim, tall, and classy ─, and even though only his collarbones peeked out from down his shirt, you knew that there was much more than the eyes could see.

    Well, you never saw it, but you had felt it.

    As far as you could remember, each curve on Hyunjin’s abs was craft by God himself. The way his chest was built for you to caress would be forever craved on your mind. You might never forget how soft his lips were in contrast to his lap… How his thighs flexed just right when you pulled his hair… How reactive he was… How his moans sounded… And how he put everything to waste.

    “Oh, nothing” He shrugged. As usual, his voice was just like sweet, hot honey; still, you could wipe the poison dripping down his chin, “I was just wondering if you had enough time to do your job while fucking your boss inside your head” He clarified sarcastically, cracking you a smile.

    Sometimes you regretted not putting his mouth to good use… He really needed to learn how to shut up for a while and stop being so… Unbearable. The silence he met had him scoffing; body leaning even closer to the point his face was practically hovering over yours ─ smugness plastered all over it. You held his gaze to confront him; breathe mingling with his in a heated mix that matched the anger under your eyes.

    Was he licking his lips as he stared at yours? Oh boy… He definitely wanted to get laid. It was your time to scoff as the frown on your lips turned into a smirk; eyes twinkling mischievously as you looked into his in a silent teasing. As if sensing that he was in trouble, Hyunjin tilted his head to look even more obnoxious than he was; face coming closer to yours to defy your newfound confidence.

     “You know what? If you stared at him any longer, I think his balls might have fallen off…” He whispered in a tone loud enough for just you to hear “Unless he saw the way you were looking at him… Then I guess his dick would go straight up” He assured you with a ‘friendly’ pat on your shoulder as he finally let go of your papers and straightened his back.

    “Are you saying it from experience?” You sneered; grimacing at him.

    “Are you telling me that you want me to fuck you too?” He retorted gibingly; not even thinking twice about it.

    “No” You tilted your head, trying to stay composed, “I’m reminding you that you couldn’t even kiss me without getting a boner… Just like a teenage boy” He arched a brow at your statement; pursing his lips as he hummed in wonder “I’m surprised you never came in your pants like the pathetic thing you are” He laughed; poking his cheek with his tongue before squeezing your shoulder in a silent warning.

    “I must have been quite a sight if you can remember it so vividly” You pretended not to notice the way he sniggered, pushing away the urge to punch his face.

  Nemesis was just a classy way to call him a pain in the ass.

  Rule Number Three: The (plain and uninteresting) secret identity!

  It would be impossible to miss the moment Hyunjin’s devilish smirk morphed into a bright, friendly smile. The snarky comment on the tip of your tongue was swallowed back in a bit; grimace dissolving into a wide grin as if you weren’t about to throw your fists at him. He giggled as his arms spread open before snaking around your body to pull you into a tight hug; holding you close and rocking your body side to side as a soft huff fell from your lips.

    If you didn’t know any better, your knee would be buried between his legs.

  “Way to go, Y/N!” He chirped, loosening his grip to take a better look at your face; eyes smiling as if the both of you were the bestest of friends in the entire world, “You’re awesome! I’m so proud… I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you as my teammate” He pursed his lips; dimples showing as he offered you nothing but affection in his gaze.

    You did know better, though, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out who was standing behind your back as you opened your mouth to answer him: “There’s no one I’d rather be with!” You reassured Hyunjin in a sweet, mirthful tone; tilting your head to return the fondness in his look in an act worthy of an Oscar “We’re a team, you know? You can’t get rid of me so easily” He laughed wholeheartedly at that; ruffling your hair before leaning closer to you again, resuming the hug.

    “We’ll see about that” He whispered in your ear, making you scoff.

    “What are you gonna do? Cry to Daddy so you won’t work with me anymore?” You hissed back; breaking away from his hug with a tight grin before turning around to meet Chan’s gaze.

    The surprise plastered over your face was millimetrically calculated; just like the way you pretended to be flustered as you stared into your boss’ eyes to see the pride shining on them. You brought the papers closer to your chest in what was meant to be an innocent, coy way ─ a technique mastered over the months you worked for him ─, and Chan seemed to fall for it as he giggled in delight. The poor guy had no clue all of this was as fake as your camaraderie towards Hyunjin, and he wasn’t about to discover it anytime soon if it depended on you.

    Luckily, it did! You had taken some acting classes; just enough for your next words to be naturally convincing: “I’m so sorry, Sir! We’re just so happy that –” The words were deliberately drawled to give him enough time to interrupt you. Just like you knew he would. And it was a good thing that he did because you had no idea of how you were supposed to finish that sentence anyway.

    You were a good actress, not a professional improviser.

    “Don’t mention it” He cut you off giggly; detaching himself from the doorframe he leaned on as he watched the friendly scene taking place.

    The amount of cuteness this man could deliver in his smile wasn’t fair, and it didn’t match the sensuality a simple gesture of his overflowed with, enchanting you. You gulped down as he gave both of you a silent order to follow him into his room, wondering if the duality he had in the office was remotely similar to what he could do in bed ─ a thought that shouldn’t be having a place in your mind right now.

    Hyunjin seemed to pick up on it pretty quickly too, and as soon as Chan turned around to head to his office, he bumped his shoulder onto yours. The obnoxious action was followed by your elbow diving into his ribs; a retaliation that took you less than a second and, luckily, Chan ─ or any of your coworkers ─ didn’t seem to notice. Neither of you gave away your silent quarrel as Hyunjin closed the door behind him, smiling at you when Chan finally took his seat.

     “It’s good to see that you guys have such chemistry” He confessed, and you had to suppress a scoff when you looked into his eyes. He had no idea… The chemistry between you two was enough to make you want to blow each other, “You know what I always say, right?” He boasted on a sing-song; much more at ease than he seemed to be earlier.

    You weren’t about to put that on the line, though.

    “You can’t have teamwork if you don’t have a team!” You warbled in unison.

    “That’s the spirit!” Chan gurgled, heading to his desk in a visibly good mood.

    What was going on? He wouldn’t be so happy just because you and Hyunjin were being friendly… Were you missing something? He didn’t seem in such a peaceful state of mind when he came in… It had to be something that happened after that. Perhaps he got some good news from his secretary? Or maybe… You narrowed your eyes as you caught a glimpse of Hyunjin’s hands fidgeting in front of him; his foot tapping the ground rapidly but quietly before moving slightly to step on your toe.

     Or maybe Hyunjin had something to do with it…

    “As I said in the email, Sir, I happened to hear some stuff around and… KQ managed to get an exclusive with Han Jisung” The sentence sounded just like a normal introduction to a report, but you knew it wasn’t. Hyunjin’s eyes darted to meet yours, glinting with anxiety and despair. He was informing you of what was going on, not Chan, “And as we all know, Jisung is a rising producer star, which is bound to raise their sales and might get in the way of ours…” He continued, swallowing dryly and widening his eyes ever so slightly.

    He was definitely trying to warn you of something.

    “Yes, I read the e-mail, Hyunjin” Chan agreed sternly; smile disappearing as his fingers intertwined to serve as a support for his chin. He looked classy and incredibly sexy, but your mind couldn’t afford to focus on it right now. You had to figure out what the hell Hyunjin suggested to Chan before blowing everything up, “You also said that Y/N might have the solution for this…” Oh, so that was it, you thought when Chan arched his brow; eyes connecting to yours.

    And now what?

    “So?” He encouraged you, detaching his chin from his hands so he could rest them on his desk “I’m waiting” He smiled gently; a closed-mouth smile that was supposed to calm your nerves, even though you could see how tumultuous his gaze was right now.

    It was practically a silent threat.

    In a normal situation, the predatory way he was looking at you ─ resembling a wolf when you were nothing but a sheep under his radar ─ would get you… Thinking.

    Your job wouldn’t be at stake in a normal situation, though.

    The pressure on your toes increased; the subtle way Hyunjin found to snap you out of your mind, despite your silence hanging in there for just a few seconds. It was obvious that he was freaking out just as much as you were, and you couldn’t help but blame him for this. Couldn’t he have told you about it earlier? What the hell was going on inside his mind?! Instead of taunting you about wanting to fuck Bang Chan, he should have warned you about that shit!

    That’s not the time for this, Y/N.

    The muscles on your face tensed as you tried to not give away everything going through your mind; lips twisting in a tight smile as you looked at Hyunjin: “Yeah, he was right” You answered calmly, even though your stomach was settled on becoming an Olympic athlete right now, “As I was telling him before coming here, Sir, I have someone in mind…” The relief washed over Hyunjin’s face; a genuine smile adorning his features as he withheld a sigh, “I happen to know I.N, and I think I can get us an exclusive” You confessed, shifting your gaze from Hyunjin to Chan.

    “The writer?” He blurted out, astonishment plastered all over his face.

    “Yeah… They’re a friend of mine…” You trailed off, embarrassed to say it out loud “They’re in the top trending now since their novel will become a drama and…” You cleared your throat, lowering your head to avoid his gaze. There was just so much of acting you could handle for a day, “I mean- It’s… Adult stuff, right? But they never—”

    “I know! That’s perfect!” He beamed, getting up from his chair to walk your way “They’ve never been seen! Nobody knows anything about them, Y/N” He laughed ─ he genuinely laughed ─ while clasping his hands together “Han Jisung is good, but I.N is better! This is hot news… FrontPage… How come you never told me about that?” He chuckled, placing his hand on your shoulder “Rest assured that when I get my promotion, I’m gonna have you right here in this room” He promised you in such a serious tone that a shiver ran down your spine.

    Rule Number Four: The (kinda horny) true self!

    There was not a single soul in the office as you made your way down the hall; eyes focused on the mesmerizing view outside. The sky was colored in purple shades, so deep that you would have mistaken them for black if it weren’t for the dazzling, sleepless city and its dozens of skyscrapers lighting everything up. Not even the full moon would be able to compete with such a beautiful brilliance, but it wouldn’t be necessary either as your gaze was abruptly torn away from the night.

    The darkness surrounding you didn’t allow your brain to connect the dots immediately, and you couldn’t help but wonder what happened when you bumped into something. The surface was much softer than a wall, yet firm enough to have you wincing for the impact; eyes snapping to meet the unlucky bastard that stayed until so late. The moonlight kissed his skin just enough for you to recognize the sharp features of your boss; clenched jaw revealing popping veins that distracted you for a fraction of a second.

     Your eyes trailed the path from his jaw to his neck, and you couldn’t help but wonder how it tasted like; if you could savor it like the sins you wanted to commit with him. The closeness didn’t work in your favor, and the hint of his scent intoxicated your senses as you connected your gazes. Something must have given you off ─ maybe your hesitation, maybe the lust glinting in your eyes ─ because the next second, Cristopher had his hand placed on your lower back.

   The warm sensation grew to a burning feeling as his eyes darkened while diving into yours; his stern, cold gaze contrasting to the feeling of his touch and sending a shiver down your spine. Could he have noticed the way your legs trembled as his grip tightened around you? The look on his face was indecipherable, and the intensity of his gaze made you feel too exposed and vulnerable to keep looking for an answer, so you averted your eyes away from him.

    “Weren’t you supposed to come as soon as you got his answer?” The way his voice made its way to your senses had the embarrassment washing over you. The huskiness in his tone made you gulp down ─ throat dry from thirsting over him ─ and the calmness in his sentence alarmed you as it didn’t match the disapproval in his eyes “It’s so late that there is no one else here anymore” He added nonchalantly; mixed signals getting you confused to what he meant by it.

    Was it just a way to scold you or was it an invitation?

    “I’m sorry, Sir” Despite not having anyone around, you whispered the words as if you could be caught at any moment now, “It took me longer than expected, but we—”

    “We?” His eyes were sharp enough to cut you off but the real reason why you couldn’t manage to finish your thoughts was the way he pulled your body impossibly closer to his “Were you with him this whole time?” He hissed right into your ear, letting his hot breath fan over your cold, sensitive skin in a silent threat.

    “Working” You corrected, even though he didn’t say anything.

    “Working” He hummed in agreement; hand going to tuck your hair behind your ear “As in how we work late at night?” He sneered, manhandling you to press your back against the cold surface of the glass wall that separated his office from the rest of the place “Or is it as in how he wants to work you on his desk?” He scoffed; soft huff almost as degrading as the way he held your cheeks with one hand and guided your eyes to his.

    “Neither” You guaranteed breathlessly; voice quivering in excitement.

    “Are you going to pretend that you didn’t notice his looks?” He narrowed his eyes at you; his knee making its way to the gap between yours before slowly rising to your thighs, “That you don’t know how much he wants to fuck you?” He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head in disbelief, “You better not, ‘cause I know you love it” He warned as he kicked your legs apart.

    “He could never fuck me as you do” There was such seriousness in your tone that it had him chuckling, and he nodded in approval before burying his nose in your neck, “I-I’m yours only, Sir… I know my place” You promised quietly, trying not to give away how aroused his jealousy made you feel.

    “Yeah…” His raspy laughter tickled your skin, and you muffled a whine as he grazed his teeth over your neck teasingly “But you like being reminded of it, don’t you?” He taunted, taking in your scent in a way that made you feel too small and helpless. He groaned as soon as you let a whimper fall from your lips, and you couldn’t help but struggle to stay still while knowing what was about to come, “Do I have to spell it for you, baby girl?” He snickered before sucking on the tender spot of your skin that he knew too well at this point.

    “N-No” Somewhere inside your head, you acknowledged that your reaction was insanely humiliating. He just needed a couple of words spoken in a sultry tone and you couldn’t even form a proper sentence. That was the power he had on you. And you loved it. “Only yours” The rushed tone made him smirk against your neck, stopping his path of kisses for a second to look into your eyes “Sir” You panted; returning his gaze with just as much intensity as he had on his.

    “Claim your place” His order was so tantalizing that you didn’t even blink before you finally let your knees give away, losing the support of your legs to earn the support of his thigh, “That’s right… You do remember your place” Somehow, this sounded like the best praise he could ever offer you, even under his amused tone, “But you have been such a bad girl lately…” He pouted as he caressed your cheek; hand stopping to grab your chin gently “And I don’t like bad girls… You know that, right?” He let his thumb reach for your lower lip, fiercely staring at it before grazing his finger on your teeth.

    Your answer was as silent as his request; tongue welcoming his thumb before you sucked on his digit. He hummed in appreciation, pushing it inside your mouth as you looked at him with big doe eyes to show a coyness that wasn’t really there within you. The action was followed by a swirl around the tip of his finger; as if to leave in his mouth the taste of what he was missing and prompt him to give you what you really wanted: Him.

    If he picked up on your plans, he showed it by giving like for like.

   He didn’t say a word as he pressed his thigh against your heat; leaning closer to let his breath fan over your neck once more. He stood like that for what could have been seconds, maybe minutes, but nonetheless time enough for his warmth to creep into your senses. He was like a poison to you; the intoxicating presence clouding your better judgment and destroying any will you had to have him losing control. You didn’t even mind the way he scoffed as you started to grind his leg; brows twisting to shout out a needy plea for release.

    “That’s a good girl” He approved, catching your earlobe between his teeth. The moan that fell from your lips was muffled by his finger and he didn’t seem to appreciate it, “I don’t hear you, baby girl” He complained, moving on to your jaw with a path of open-mouthed kisses that weren’t enough to distract you from his other hand “There’s no one here… Be loud for me” He allured you as his hand found its way under your shirt.

      The temptation was great… Scream his name as he fucked you senseless in the office... No risk of being caught… Just you, and him, and your dirty little secret…

    Your thoughts were all around the place, and you had no hopes of grasping them back as his cold hand brushed your side, contrasting to the warmth under your clothes. The way he touched you made shivers run down your spine; his slow, delicate motion enhancing your senses to every single second of his caresses. You held your breath when his finger finally managed to reach its destination; grazing over your nipple to have you succumbing to his wishes.

    You fought it as you could, but you were never much of a fighter.

    It was too easy for him to have you under his control, and he knew it. You could tell it by the way he chuckled as soon as you gave away how lost you were at this point. The moan that left your lips came all the way up from your chest, sounding crystal clear in the room as you let your mouth fall agape. Sucking on his finger and following his orders were the last concern you would have for this moment. The only thing worthy of your attention right now was the fact that you couldn’t get as much friction as you needed, and you had to do something about it.

    So you grind on his leg for dear life.

    “You’re so needy” The mockery didn’t have much effect on your mind anymore, so you just kept sliding up and down his thigh as if that was the only thing that could keep you going “You’re not even listening to me, are you?” He huffed in disbelief; thumb leaving your mouth so he could cup your face “That’s all you can understand, right?” He taunted, pinching your nipple to get your attention again, “Are you still there, baby girl?” He leaned closer to whisper in your ear.

      “F-Fuck me” Was the only answer he would get.

      “Manners” He warned; licking the sweet spot next to your jaw.

      “Fuck me, Sir” You corrected yourself; wrapping your arms around his shoulders to look for some support as you practically bounced on his leg, “Please, fuck me, Sir” You repeated, forehead resting on the crook of his neck as you clawed his back, trying to bring him as close as possible to you.

      “Louder” He demanded, and you didn’t need to look at his face to know that he was grinning, “Louder…” He instructed in a tone so low that you could barely hear him over the rustling sounds of fabric against fabric. Your breath hitched as his hand gently caressed your hair; moving some strands away from your face to take a better look at you. However, he didn’t get to see your teary eyes, “Come on, baby… Look at me” He asked in a tantalizing tone, alluring you to try and meet his gaze.

    There wasn’t much you could see through your hooded eyes; vision too blurry for you to grasp what was going on inside his mind. You could tell he enjoyed it, though. He always did. That moment when he could pinpoint you had given up on your control, that you weren’t yourself anymore and would be willing to do whatever he asked… He lived for it, for that rebellious flame of self-control extinguishing from your eyes.

     For who you become when lust overcomes you.        

    The grip on his hair wasn’t unexpected, and Cristopher offered you a small, wicked smile before you connected your lips. The kiss was messy and hurried; tongues exploring every corner they could find while your hands were occupied on getting rid of your clothes. Neither of you cared about anything else but feeling each other’s bodies as you ripped your shirts. The cold breeze hitting your bare skin wasn’t enough to cool down the heat consuming you, but it was enough to have you squirming and whining.

      “Beautiful” Was the only thing he said before pushing your back against the glass and adjusting his grip to take your nipple between his teeth. The groan that escaped your lips was almost animalistic, prompting him to answer with a grunt of his own as he sucked on your skin. The vibrations ran from your flesh to your core, enticing another moan that seemed to fall into deaf ears, “Louder, baby… I want him to hear you…” He pleaded, letting go of your breast just to grope it and give you a kitten lick on the next second “To know who made you like this…” He added before sucking on it again.

    Perhaps it was the fact that he thrust on you, just to tease your senses and make you thirstier. Perhaps it was the fact you had to support yourself on just one leg as he pushed his hips against yours and you tried to seek for your balance by involving his leg with yours. Perhaps it was his hand sliding to meet your clothed core; finger pressing against your clit to add a delicious, needed stimulus for your orgasm.

    Perhaps it was the words that slipped through his lips.

    “W-What did you say?” You panted; hips faltering as you tried to keep riding him, but steading their pace as his finger circled your clit to goad you “M-Mhm… S-Sir” You cried; hand burying in his hair to pull it and translate the utter bliss waving down your body. The string of mewls and urgent pleas spilled from you like a chant, getting him more eager than before, “P-Please” You whined, even though you weren’t sure what you were asking for.

      “Hold it” He ordered; straightening his back to look right into your eyes, but failing as yours rolled back to your head. His hand made its way to squeeze your cheeks, forcing you to look at him with a soft shake to catch your attention “Look at me” It sounded like a warning; stern enough for you to try your best to focus on him, “You’ll only cum when he walks right through that door… Do you understand?” He searched for any signs of stubbornness in your eyes, but his smile showed he didn’t found any.

    “W-Who?” You managed to ask; body trembling as you tried to hold every single string inside your mind in place, even though each one of them was ready to snap and unravel the crashing pleasure that was building up.

    “Why does it matter?” He scoffed, quickening his pace as the unmistakable ring of the elevator sounded on the room “You love being seen, don’t you?” He chuckled, watching as your body shook violently and your knees started to give away to the sensations running down your body.

      “Y-Yes, Sir” You could bet your voice echoed inside the building, and Christopher seemed to agree with you as he grinned in approval.

    “So look at your guest, baby… And scream my name” He instructed, pushing your face to the side. The doors opened slowly, revealing the lights inside the small cubicle right in front of your eyes “Let him know who you belong to” He whispered in your ear; hand pushing your underwear aside so his finger could come in contact with your core.

    The mysterious figure detached from the corners of the metallic walls to finally reveal himself. You met his eyes for a half of a second; enough time for you to recognize the one who worked with you every single day of your life. For the past few years. Someone who would be your partner for years to come, and who would witness and engrave your face in your most vulnerable moment.

    You came hard; probably the most overwhelming orgasm you had ever had in your life. It was impossible to hold back your voice, and you couldn’t help but howl his name; legs shaking and body collapsing into your boss’ arms. You squirmed and whimpered as you tried to recompose yourself; letting him help you ride you out of your orgasm and occupying yourself by staring into your coworker’s shocked eyes.

    “Thank you, Sir…” You breathed out, gripping his arms for dear life while the shame sank into your soul.

    Rule Number Five: The (grateful and satisfied) fans!

    And… Post.

    Oh, well… You did it. Again. There was something about displaying your deepest fantasies for anyone to see that was kinda thrilling to you. Your heart raced inside your chest just like a drum ─ well, if a goddamn drummer decided to do a solo but was too offbeat, to begin with ─ and you couldn’t help but stare blankly at the page without a clue of what to do now. It was out there… Why didn’t anyone say anything yet? Was it that bad? Should you delete it?

    Well… People have to read it before commenting, you know?

    Yeah, right… You just posted it.

    Chill.

    You licked your lips before biting them; feeling the rush that was posting about your boss online when no one else knew about it. If you were being honest, the best part of this wasn’t having the chance to live your fantasies throughout your writing. No. The best part was knowing that only you knew the true identity of Christopher… Or what you really wanted to do to him while he walked down the hallway. The best part was that no one would ever figure out that you were the author of the bestselling novel of the moment… That this steamy romance between boss and employee was nothing but your rawest desire.

     Who would think that the boring, shy girl from the office would be a smut writer? Who would think that you would have a horny, interesting secret identity? No one else but you.

      And this was priceless.

     Or maybe… It was priceless.

    As far as you knew, every single thing you cherished about being a secretive horny bitch could go down the drain tomorrow. It would be all fine if it was just a… Well, actually everything would suck. How would you look at Chan’s face if he knew you were writing about having sex with your boss while he was your boss? What would you do if they decided to fire you because of it? What would you do with your life from now on?!

     Don’t panic, Y/N.

    You had everything under control… Tomorrow morning you would be going to Jeongin’s house and interview him as if he were you. No one would ever suspect you after that. You would save your ass, Hyunjin’s ass, and Chan’s ass. And that was it. The perfect plan. Nothing to worry about. Just trust Jeongin to follow your script and make sure everything would go as planned.

    Flawless. Totally safe. Perfect.

    That’s right…

    You just need to take a deep breath and rela—

    The sudden sound caught you off guard; eyes focusing on the screen once again so you could understand what was going on. All of your worries vanished away as soon as you saw the notification on the top of it; announcing that you had just got a message from a fan.

     Finally!    

    The weasel icon was so familiar that you chuckled while opening the message; a smile plastering over your face as you let your eyes wander around the words. There was nothing more fulfilling to your writer ass than seeing the way Weasel always had something to say about your story. Sometimes, he’d give you some feedback on your style. Other times, he’d freak out about how much he wanted to “try those things out”, as he usually said. There were also times when he’d just get excited over the characters and their conflicts, which always got you laughing.

    It was fun to talk to Weasel.

    He was just as mysterious as you… There was no name to his face, and also no face to his icon, but both of you were friends anyway. He had been keeping up with your stuff from such an early stage that it felt natural to have him around and getting his feedback. It was so comfortable, that you didn’t even mind when he slid in your DMs, embarrassed to let anyone else know that your smut made him… Feel things. There was no need to elaborate on what he did about those feelings or those things. But it was kinda hot to know he enjoyed himself throughout your fantasies.

      His fantasies.

    Well… For the number of times that you used them to write your stories, it was some sort of shared fantasies by now. As a matter of fact, you never intended to make Christopher a jealous character but Weasel made the idea seem too hot for you to ignore. Sometimes, he’d open up about that girl from his work that he really liked and how jealous he was of the guy she liked and then… Well, it felt… Interesting.

    The thought of being desirable to the point a guy would want to claim you as his like this? Not that Weasel did it. He actually just mentioned that he hoped she was into this as a kink. You couldn’t help but picture the way he would touch her in such a greedy way… The possessiveness blinding him for a second… The grip tightening… The mean words and the humiliation… Oh, the sweet humiliation that would crush you as he whispered how much you would cum for him… How he was the only one who could make you like that… How he would ask you to say his name… To tell him that you were his…

    You could drink holy water and still be shaking just by picturing it.

    “That was such a good chapter… I didn’t expect you to use her friend like that. I thought it was a given that she’d end up with Chris” You read out loud, chuckling when he reached for your DMs to talk to you “Will we get a threesome or something, miss? 😏” He joked on the next line and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at this “I’m waiting for it”

    “You’re just a horny bitch, aren’t you?” You typed, smirking as you stared at his messages “No spoilers for you, though, baby boy… You’ll have to wait like everybody else” Teasing him was always funny, and he never failed to amuse you.

      “I’m not the one writing porn online” He pointed out, and before he could write anything else you shot him.

    “Yeah but you’re the one getting off to it” You retorted, getting a whole set of gasping and shocked emotes that had you laughing.

    “I have no words to express how offended I am” You chortled, shaking your head in disbelief.

     “Alright, Drama Llama” Why was it so fun to mock him? You wished you could actually meet him offline and banter like this in real life “To fill your horny ass, I might write a dom!reader next time… I was thinking about torturing the 2nd lead a bit”

    “First of all… I don’t think I want my ass filled, thank you for offering tho” Why was he like this? “And I was just joking” You frowned at that, confused by what he meant “Don’t you think that a threesome doesn’t go along with the characters? Her friend likes her a lot and Christopher is just a kinky son of a bitch… I thought he’d just show him that she was his and be an ass as usual”

    “What do you have against Chris, dude?” You rolled your eyes, although he wouldn’t be able to see it, “He’s way better than her friend! At least, he does something about her”

    “I have the 2nd male lead syndrome! You know that!” You chortled, very aware of this, “And isn’t that the perfect opportunity for him to do something about it?! I mean… I don’t want to be nosey but having a threesome is way out of character for them” He pointed out, and you had to admit he was right.

    “No, you’re not nosey…” You sighed; shoulders dropping for a second “It’s just that I’m upset about something that happened at work today and you know that projecting my problems on those characters is my thing” You pursed your lips, staring at the keyboard for a few seconds before deciding to continue “Besides, I’m about to spend an entire day with a guy that kinda inspired the 2nd lead and… I don’t really want to think about a sex scene with him, you know?” You confessed.

    “But thinking about torturing and having a threesome with him is easy” He mocked you.

      “That’s because that threesome would never happen” You sent it before you could think about what you had just written.

    “Ooohhhh!” Holy shit… The amount of emotes he had just dumped on that chat couldn’t be a good sign, “So having sex with this guy is something you want?! And that could happen?! ” Great, now you would have a Drama Llama-Weasel trying to get some juicy gossip about your inexistent sex life… WORSE! Your sex life with your nemesis! “Why don’t you go for it? I’m sure he’s into you if he’s anything like his character” Poor thing… He had no idea.

    “Shut up, it’s not like that” You brushed it off.

    “If you say so” You could almost hear him snickering, even though you didn’t know how his voice sounded like “I’ll just have you regretting this for the rest of the night” You snorted, shaking your head in disbelief. He was unbearable! “I have work early tomorrow but I’m gonna come back with questions, Miss… Wait for me”

    “What I meant is that it’d be easier to happen than having a threesome, not that I want it to happen, moron” You defended yourself but he didn’t even get to read it as he logged off right away.

      Great… He would never let you live it down.

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#skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz smut #stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #bang chan smut #skz x reader #hyunjin x reader #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #bang chan fanfic #chan fanfic #hyunjin fanfic #hwang hyunjin fanfic #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader

[taexual]

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (16)

     jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst

words: 6.6k

     chapter sixteen

Despite deciding not to make your already uncomfortable situation even more awkward by discussing your kiss, Jungkook could not stop thinking about it the entire drive back to your dormitory. Actually, he’d been thinking about the kiss nearly every moment since it happened, but with you in the car next to him, his thoughts became clearer. More defined. More vibrant.

If he’d have closed his eyes – not a good idea for someone who was behind the wheel of a car; but it wasn’t like Jungkook was above entertaining bad ideas – he swore he could return to that moment when he had you underneath him on his bed, your mouth against his, right before his mother knocked on the door and interrupted you.

What would have happened if she hadn’t knocked?

“You okay?” you asked suddenly, the question startling him.

“Hmm?” he nearly swerved off the road, answering you in a high-pitched voice, “yeah. Why?”

“You just inhaled really—nevermind,” you changed your mind – it was better to stay quiet all the way home. But, aware how weird your question seemed without any explanations, you mumbled under your breath, “thought you were suffocating or something.”

Jungkook hadn’t realized his breath got caught in his throat every time he remembered kissing you, but it made sense; his body needed to give up every other activity—no matter how crucial for his survival it was—in order to make enough space in his mind to fully immerse itself into the memory.

The memory was so important to him because, based on the way you shifted closer to the door and further away from him in his car, he could tell that even the lingering possibility of bringing the kiss up made you close off. So the chance of it happening again – him, getting you to lower your guards down enough to allow another kiss – was so slim, it was incredible he hadn’t given up yet.

“So, I take it you won’t make it to my gig this Friday, then,” Jungkook said when he entered the campus, nodding at the barrier guard through his window before turning to look at you to show you that, no, he wasn’t going to try to get you to talk about last weekend, but also, no, he wasn’t going to completely let this go, either.

“No,” you said with a quick glance his way, the barbecue at his father’s company written in red letters in your mental itinerary. “Not this Friday. Sorry.”

He thought this over – “this” Friday meant that next Friday still had an opening. He liked these odds.

“Text me if my dad gets too crazy, yeah?” Jungkook asked as he pulled into the parking lot of your dormitory. “I’ll make sure to reply with tips on how to get him to leave you alone.”

“No, you’ll be in the middle of your performance,” you said – expressing your appreciation for his concern by giving him a warm smile – and then dismissed him with a wave of your hand, “I’ll find a way to handle it.”

Stopping the car right in front of the entrance – but not shutting the engine off which was, both, terrible for the environment and also not a very smart idea socially, considering that people were already watching your every step, and they were absolutely going to hear Jungkook’s car – he turned to look at you with a very determined expression on his face.

“If you don’t think I can find a way to include answering texts in my set list, I have news for you,” he said and you thought he was joking – just being reassuring – but the look in his eyes told a different story.

Your smile widened despite your protests. “Alright, noted. But don’t worry about me. Just let me know when you’re done with your gig.”

Jungkook – who’d never had to report his whereabouts to anyone before – found himself nodding eagerly.

“You too,” he said. “I mean, text me when that whole social gathering is over. I can drive over there to take you home.”

“No,” you protested again, “you have an after-party to get to. I’ll make my own way home. Don’t worry—”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he countered, using your own argument against you, “I will come get you out of there early if you’ll need me to. No matter what I’m doing.”

The look on his face was resolute and, for a moment, you considered that perhaps this was his way of showing you that he didn’t want you to go to the company barbecue at all – especially not when he couldn’t be there to supervise and make sure the real story of your relationship remained well hidden behind the tale you’d created for his parents – but then, Jungkook looked down and refuted these thoughts.

“Thank you for doing this,” he said. “My dad already had that look on his face – the scowl he saved for me only – because he’d been expecting me to refuse to come all along, but then you… well, you softened the blow.”

“I didn’t soften it much if he still looked at you like that,” you said, lowering your eyes just as Jungkook raised his.

“No, you did. I’d have gone home, thinking—no, knowing—that I’d let him down yet again,” he said, “and that often has interesting consequences—”

You raised your eyebrows. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Right. But now I get to go home and worry about you being there alone with my family and their colleagues, so that gives me something else to occupy myself with.”

You could have insisted that you weren’t a damsel in distress and could figure out your own way out of a tricky situation if you had to, but you chose to let him have this one. If thinking about this kept him out of trouble while you were out of campus and, possibly, unable to reach him in time, then so be it.

“That’s hardly a better way to spend your time, but if that’s what you’re into these days…” you replied with humor and Jungkook – who could tell that you were only saying this so you’d stop going back and forth with him – forced himself to smile.

“You’re rubbing off on me,” he said. “I’m starting to develop this need to constantly be in control of everything.”

Your mouth opened in genuine surprise and then – almost comically – opened wider still, when you decided to add a more dramatic effect to your reaction, so you could conceal the fact that the portrayal of you, as a control freak, had honestly upset you. 

But you couldn’t express your feelings out loud because, admittedly, he was right, you did like to be in control of your surroundings. Shamelessly so, too, because you didn’t think it was wrong to know about everything that involved you.

“That’s not good,” you said. “We can’t both be in control. We’ll clash.”

“If we do, I hope it will be as epic as Harry versus Voldemort.”

You snickered at this, the tension in your shoulders lightening. “I take it you’re Voldemort?”

Jungkook looked positively outraged by this assumption. “Of course not! I’m The Chosen One.”

Now you were full-on laughing. And The Chosen One – who, technically, could have actually been called The Boy Who Lived after all the life-threatening stunts he’d pulled since starting puberty – smiled, beyond proud of himself.

Smiling at each other for several seconds – that could have been minutes or even hours for all you cared; it only felt like one blink of an eye to you anyway – you felt your chest fill with affection. That tended to happen sometimes, especially when you’d been dreading a situation – The Talk About the Sunday Night Kiss – and then managed to successfully make it out alive – by using a method, commonly referred to as, Staying Quiet and Changing the Topic.

“I meant what I said, though,” you spoke and the relief that you didn’t have to endure the awkward ‘so… what do we do now?’ question washed over you with a warm wave. “I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

You had leaned closer him as you said this – it was a natural instinct: reaching out to touch someone’s hand (or, uh-oh, cheek!) for more effect – but you froze mid-way, hanging awkwardly over the console of his car and regretting your very existence because you’d noticed how Jungkook stopped breathing when you moved closer, and how quickly his breathing returned to him – in the form of a disappointed huff – when you suddenly stopped.

“Thank you for taking me to the meeting today,” you ended up blurting as you pulled back, your eyes now firmly locked on the handle of the door.

“Yeah. It’s nothing,” he replied and, somehow, that was it.

The eternity you always spent in his car when he dropped you off in front of your dormitory had suddenly come to an end and, because of how weird it was to leave without saying goodbye – but, then again, were you supposed to hug? Kiss? – your hand lingered on the handle numbly, only pushing the door open a minute later.

Paradoxically, relief and concern both flooded your brain as soon as you stepped one foot outside but then, before you could exit his car, you felt him take hold of your wrist – not pulling you back per se, but holding onto you firmly enough to stop you from moving.

“Hey,” Jungkook said. You were mid-step, so you had to fully exit the car and lean down to look at him.

“Hmm?” you asked, your wrist still in his grip even though he had successfully captured your attention.

“D-don’t…” he tried to say, mumbling the rest of the words under his breath. You frowned, not hearing him, and were about to lean forward to ask what he’d said, when he cleared his throat and tried again, “let’s not be weird around each other, okay? We know each other far too long for that.”

Your plan to keep your mouth shut and divert his attention to different topics had, clearly, only succeeded in part, because Jungkook was addressing last Sunday night, after all, but he didn’t dare to bring the kiss up directly. And his acknowledgement of the fact that you were too stuck in your own head to let him talk to you about the kiss specifically, made it all worse.

“Yeah,” you said then. “I wouldn’t want things to suddenly be weird between us.”

“So, let’s not make it weird,” he said, nodding and reluctantly letting go of your hand. “Don’t forget to text me tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” you pulled your hand back and, with one last smile – that looked forced, uncomfortable and weird; all the things you didn’t want it to look like – you walked away from his car and back to your dorm, ready for Inna’s tirade of questions. Questions that you had no answers to.

What surprised you about the company barbecue on Friday afternoon wasn’t the fact that Inna hadn’t demanded to know all the details of the event when you told her where you’d be going, or the fact that all of the people you’d seen at the bi-yearly meeting on Thursday, were now dressed in red aprons like your friendly neighborhood dads.

It was the fact that Namjoon, of all people, was dressed like one of those dads, too.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, evidently shocked to run into him here. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Oh, hi!” Namjoon seemed just as surprised but he shook your hand – which was his go-to way of saying hello to people, as you’ve learned – and smiled, explaining, “I’m interning here, actually. What about you?”

You were thrown off balance by your surprise – the two of you had talked about your plans for the future before, sharing your ambitions with each other, and yet you didn’t know that he was an intern here – but recovered a moment later to explain yourself.

“Oh, I’m—the CEO is an old family friend, so I’m here as a courtesy of sorts,” you said, feeling self-conscious when you saw Namjoon raise his eyebrows after he learned about this connection. “I was supposed to come earlier to help you set up but my roommate was leaving for the weekend, and she—well, anyway. I’m only here to get acquainted with the company, really.”

Contrary to what you’d expected him to ask you next, Namjoon wondered, “do you see yourself here in the future?”

Even though he didn’t inquire about your biography outright – “were your parents powerful and influential businessmen as well?” – his question did seem to insinuate that you may start working here purely because of your relationship to the head of the company.

“Maybe,” you replied, realizing how privileged you were to be here when you weren’t even a part of the company yet. “What has it been like, interning here?”

“Oh, it’s been okay. It’s the only company that took me in,” he spoke and you felt yourself exhale in relief after you lost the spotlight. “The others weren’t looking for interns. Or they needed interns with a job experience that spanned more than my college career.”

You scoffed, understanding what he meant very well because you’d been there, too. “How does that make sense?”

“It doesn’t,” Namjoon said with a sigh. “And that’s why I’m here.”

“So, this wasn’t your first choice?” you asked.

“No, but I don’t regret coming here,” he replied. “It’s a nice work environment. The people are very welcoming and helpful, which isn’t something you see a lot of in corporate businesses.”

Sadly, some of the people here weren’t very welcoming in their personal lives, you thought bitterly, remembering Jungkook and his father’s tense relationship. You chose not to mention that, however, because it didn’t seem like the right thing to do.

“I hope you’re not here for work, though,” you said instead, smiling as you watched Namjoon laugh awkwardly and nod at the beef patties on a plate next to the grill.

“No,” he said. “But they did put me on grilling duty – which wasn’t very smart of them, considering how terrible I am around things that can burst into flames – so I do have some hefty responsibilities today.”

You chuckled. “I could help you. I’ve done my fair share of barbecuing when I was growing up. Let me just leave my handbag somewhere—”

“The gazebo over there,” Namjoon pointed at the far end of the camping grounds, “they’ve turned it into a coat room. You could leave it there,” he looked at you and, catching his own eagerness, explained, “I would really appreciate your help. I don’t want my internship to end prematurely because I’d poisoned everyone with my poor cooking.”

Giving him a sympathetic grin, you assured him, “that won’t happen. At least, not on my watch. I’ll be right back!”

As you’d learned once you got back to the grill and started to assist Namjoon – or, allowed him to assist you – Jungkook’s father hadn’t even arrived yet. Him and his wife – according to a very chatty woman who was Namjoon’s supervisor – were supposed to come a little while later and then, following tradition, they would take a picture with the rest of the employees, sit down for a meal, and leave within an hour.

This barbecue may have been a nice social gathering for the employees of his company, but it was strictly a formality for Jungkook’s father.

“Still, it’s nice,” Namjoon said once the woman left you two to finish grilling the sausages and the patties alone, “not many CEOs bother to interact with the lower-rank employees at company events. At least, not in my experience. My dad didn’t even know what his boss looked like and he’d worked for the same company for twenty years.”

“It sounds impossible in today’s day and age, though, with everyone being on social media,” you pointed out.

“Of course. But you don’t always recognize people from social media in real life. So, it’s nice that even I, an intern, have a chance to see the CEO of the company with my own eyes. And maybe even meet him.”

“Hmm, sure,” you nodded with an unconcerned shrug. “It is nice of him, I suppose.”

Namjoon noticed your nonchalance and he knew that the reason why you couldn’t relate to him in this particular situation was because you had nothing to get excited about – you had already met the CEO.

“You said he was a family friend?” Namjoon asked you. “So, you know him quite well, then?”

You paused grilling for a second to look at him but he was watching the food to make sure it didn’t burn. And that was even better, since it gave you more time to come up with an abridged version of your relationship with Jungkook’s father.

“Yeah, uh… my mom and his wife had been best friends growing up,” you said, “and they’re still very close to this day. Now that they’re both married, their families got involved in the friendship, too. He’s always been kind to me but my knowledge of him comes from Jungkook’s point of view, so I’m probably—”

Namjoon finally looked away from the sizzling grill to get you to back up. “Wait, Jungkook?”

“Yeah, we—” you paused, realizing that he wasn’t confused about your friendship with Jungkook but, rather, about Jungkook, being the son – and the heir apparent – of the CEO. “The company—i-it belongs to Jungkook’s father.”

“Oh,” Namjoon mumbled, looking away as this revelation rendered him speechless for a quick minute. “Oh.”

You didn’t know what to make of this “oh”, so you tried to clear the air with a chuckle.

“I, uh—I had thought that was common knowledge on campus,” you said.

“I—maybe it is, I don’t really keep up w-with that,” he admitted. “I just assumed he was popular because of Parental Advisory.”

“He is,” you nodded, “but coming from a rich family probably didn’t hinder his way to the top very much.”

“No,” he snickered, “it probably didn’t. So, uh, is he coming here, too?”

You had picked up a pair of tongs from the folding table nearby and used them to flip the patties before you answered. That was why you didn’t notice how much Namjoon struggled to process this new information. You couldn’t ask him what was it about Jungkook that caused Namjoon to have such a hard time dealing with this news.

“No,” you said, still not looking at him as you focused on the grill. “He’s got a show tonight.”

“Ah, so his band comes first,” Namjoon said in a voice that would have been humorous—in a sarcastic way—if it wasn’t so acidic.

You stopped what you were doing to give the boy next to you a surprised look.

“Well—not necessarily,” you said and then tried to find a way to explain why Jungkook was the way he was without getting into too many unnecessary and overly-complicated details, “he cares about both, but he’s not—he’s got, uh, some issues with—”

“With being civil in front of his father’s employees?” Namjoon interjected sharply.

You blinked. “He—”

“God, sorry,” he blurted suddenly, putting the metal spatula down on the grill before realizing that this wasn’t a good idea and picking it back up again. He sounded exasperated as he tried to take his previous question back, “I don’t know why I’m coming off so angry about this. I was just surprised. I did hear that the CEO had a son who was presumably going to take over the company one day, but I didn’t think it was… you know.”

You didn’t know, but you could guess that Jungkook’s bad reputation preceded him and even people, who claimed not to judge others without getting to know them first, couldn’t help but judge first.

Namjoon sounded disappointed when he talked about him. Worse, he sounded displeased and even choked as he spoke, trying to cover up his own frustration so he could remain impeccably respectful like he always was – or tried to be.

He tried to avoid stereotypes but you’d gotten glimpses of his real attitude at the library when he’d revealed his assumptions about the members of Parental Advisory, guessing – and getting it right – that the members were a “troubled bunch”.

You’d admired his restraint from any further assumptions that could have shown his prejudice. But now his respectfulness irked you because it hid his real feelings and made it almost impossible for you to defend Jungkook without sounding like you were overreacting.

“There’s still a long way before Jungkook can take over,” you said, focusing on the tongs in your hands and the way they clapped with a metallic yelp each time you clicked them together. “He’s working on it and his father definitely isn’t cutting him any slack just because he’s his son.”

“Right, I wasn’t—”

“But you probably know that if you work here,” you continued, yours words coming out in a batch of agitation that Namjoon could not interrupt, “there aren’t any exclusive employees here. Everyone is being treated the same, regardless of their connection to the staff higher up.”

“No, of course!” he exclaimed before you could continue. “I didn’t mean to imply—although, I guess I did imply that he had certain guarantees that other people didn’t, which is true, of course, with him being the son of the CEO. But I didn’t mean to make it sound like he wouldn’t deserve the chief executive position. I’m sure his father wouldn’t give it to him if he didn’t think Jungkook was worth it.”

“Yeah,” you said, swallowing hard. “He wouldn’t.”

Namjoon wasn’t going to say anything else about this – he’d already said too much – but the way you went straight for his throat when he misspoke about Jungkook, shed a new light on your relationship with him. It intrigued Namjoon even if he wasn’t fascinated by you in a romantic sense.

His interest in your relationship with Jungkook was mostly understandable, though – the two of you were so different on the surface, one could only wonder what was it that attracted you to each other.

Well, apparently, there were depths to the reckless lead vocalist of the campus band that Namjoon didn’t know about.

“I’ve heard he treats everyone here like family,” Namjoon said, trying to make his voice sound light as he shifted the topic from the son to the father.

“I’ve heard that, too,” you agreed, your voice still on edge. “The man has a great reputation around here.”

“He’s sort of living up to it, too,” Namjoon said and you saw him nod in the direction of the road that ran along the north side of the camping grounds.

You turned your head to see Jungkook’s father step out of his car, with his wife following after, from the other side. He shook hands with the few people who came to greet him. 

He had a wide smile on his face – a smile that you couldn’t remember seeing in a very long time, but now that you did, you realized how similar him and Jungkook were: both of them seemed to lose ten years of their age when they smiled.

“He kind of looks like he’s running a presidential campaign,” you said, observing the scene as Jungkook’s father greeted his employees – some with a good-natured hug, others with a wave.

Namjoon glanced at you and, relieved to see that your mind was no longer lingering on your previous conversation, laughed. “Maybe a bit, yeah.”

Within moments of Jungkook’s father’s arrival, the campgrounds were in an uproar: everyone was busy grilling their last bits of food and arranging it in a way that would look the most appetizing.

The plate of food you and Namjoon had grilled definitely wasn’t the easiest on the eyes, but none of the food seemed under-cooked or burned, so both of you were content with that. 

Then, just as you were about to pick the food up and carry it over to the structure tent in the center of the grounds, you were reminded that time for dinner hadn’t arrived yet.

The traditional picture had to come first.

You felt a lot like you did on picture day back at school – with one of the employees ordering everyone around, demanding they squat, scooch closer, smile wider, turn their heads, and move to the back because their clothing is too flashy – and that was what you told Namjoon when the two of you found yourselves standing side-by-side in front of the camera, very close to Jungkook’s father himself.

“I think it’s worse than it was at school,” Namjoon whispered back, glancing at the other employees and their wide smiles, “but, at least, we don’t have to wear uniforms.”

You scoffed. “Yes. Wearing dark red aprons is better.”

“This awful color makes us all more united,” he said, looking over your shoulder and accidentally meeting the eye of his CEO, who was making sure you weren’t standing too far from him, because he considered you to be his guest and, therefore, he had to make sure you received the best treatment. Namjoon figured as much, as he cleared his throat and straightened his posture.

Finally, the photographer – or, actually, the Head of Human Resources with his new Samsung – took the picture, making sure the flash blinded each and every single person posing for him. And then he took another picture. And then another one. And then a few more for good measure.

You thought you’d blinked in all of them but you hoped to never see those pictures anyway. They probably hung them up in the lobby to remind everyone who went into the building that this was a very friendly environment to work in, but the actual employees never really looked at the pictures.

It was almost funny how wrong you were about that.

“Such a pleasure to see you here,” Jungkook’s father said, approaching you as soon as the people broke apart from their designated positions and pretended to mingle while, really, they waited for the director to finish talking and lead them to the main tent for dinner.

“Thank you very much for inviting me,” you said, aware of everyone’s eyes on you as you exchanged a polite and obligatory hug. “It’s a very nice place here.”

“It really is, isn’t it?” he nodded and then, much to your relief, pointed at the tent. “Let’s go have some food, shall we? I’d been saving up my stomach the whole day for this.”

You chuckled and walked next to him towards the plastic table, filled to the brim with various plates of food. There was far too much grilled meat here – it was impossible for everyone to eat it all, no matter how many people were here – but that only seemed to please the CEO.

“Would you like to take a look at the pictures, sir?” the Head of HR approached Jungkook’s father after he noticed that your conversation had ceased.

Based on how carefully he held the treasured Samsung in his hands, you figured that, either the phone had cost several million dollars, or the man was genuinely terrified of Jungkook’s father – which wasn’t unlikely, as you very well knew.

“Oh, of course, of course,” Jungkook’s father said, always so pleasant, and then stopped to take a look at the phone. You weren’t sure if you should have kept walking or stopped as well. And then he solved the dilemma for you by addressing you, “I’m going to forward the picture to Jungkook so he knows what he’s missing.”

“Oh, yes, that’s a great idea,” you said, smiling, even though you knew Jungkook probably wasn’t even going to open the picture.

Funnily enough, you were wrong about that, too.

While you and Jungkook’s father joined the rest of his employees for the barbecue, Jungkook was finishing soundcheck with his bandmates. He checked his phone – like he did after each song – and rolled his eyes when he saw a text from his father instead of from you.

He opened it, though.

He didn’t care much for what his father said – but he had to admit, he’d never seen his father use the winky face emoji before, so that threw him off – but his eyes caught the picture he’d attached and Jungkook pressed on it without a moment’s hesitation.

Skimming over the bright smiles of his father’s employees, he scanned the picture, looking for you.

And he found you.

But not before he found Namjoon standing right next to you.

Much to your surprise, talking to the other employees – even despite the age gap – proved to be a lot of fun. Some of the older ones actually remembered you from when you were little; they recalled you and Jungkook holding onto Jungkook’s mother’s dress as she brought you two along when she came to visit her husband at the company. And the younger employees curiously absorbed everything you told them about your experience at university, sharing their own life stories with you in return.

Because you found yourself having a good time here, you only remembered that you’d left your phone in your handbag – which was across the camping grounds, tucked away in the lonely wooden gazebo – when Jungkook’s father – who was still here, much to everyone’s surprise – decided it was time to pop the champagne.

You excused yourself from the table, promising to return soon because you only meant to retrieve your phone so you could check the time and maybe check in with Jungkook in case his show was over by now.

That was not what ended up happening when you located your handbag under the various expensive jackets that were haphazardly thrown on the bench in the gazebo.

You pulled your phone out to see several missed calls.

None of those missed calls were from Jungkook. In fact, the majority of them came from Inna, which was already weird enough since she’d left campus again this weekend and she never called you. You always texted.

But what truly confused you were the last two missed calls because they were from Yoongi, Jungkook’s bandmate. You’d only talked to Yoongi on the phone once, when you were attempting to get in touch with Jungkook after he missed dinner at his parents’ place, but Yoongi was high back then so you didn’t think he even remembered.

But he did remember, apparently, because, while you stood there, puzzled and a little alarmed, his number lit up on your screen again.

Clearing your throat, you picked up the call. “Hello?”

“Oh, fuck, thank God, you’re here,” Yoongi spoke and, judging from the relief in his voice, he knew very well whom he was talking to. “Is Jungkook with you?”

“Jungkook?” you repeated stupidly. “W-why would he be with me? Don’t you have a show?”

Yoongi laughed, loudly and completely humorlessly. “We do have a show. He was wasted for the most of it.”

A painful bolt of electricity shot through you. “He performed drunk?”

“Doesn’t matter. At least, he performed,” Yoongi said, “that’s before the encore, though. We couldn’t find him. The fucking asshole completely missed the three final songs. We thought he went to see you.”

You felt a pang of guilt even though you had nothing to feel guilty about because Jungkook was most definitely not with you, and he didn’t have a single reason to come see you before he finished the show anyway.

“I-I’m not on campus right now,” you said, running your hand through your hair as you considered what could have happened in the span of the few hours since you left your dorm this morning, after having talked to Jungkook on the phone. “Did you try calling him?”

“Obviously. He’s not picking up. I’m pretty sure he tossed his phone into a fucking lake,” Yoongi said and then, even though he didn’t mean it, he added angrily, “he better be in the lake, too, or else I’ll kill him myself.”

Knowing that the scenario of Jungkook accidentally driving into a lake wasn’t one to be dismissed, you felt your skin shiver.

“I’ll look for him,” you promised, looking back at the celebration in the tent across the field.

“You said you weren’t on campus,” Yoongi said. “Your roommate said she was out, too.”

You weren’t aware that Yoongi had talked to Inna tonight, but that explained the avalanche of missed calls from her. You made a mental note to send her a quick explanatory text message on your way to your dorm.

“I’m coming back,” you told Yoongi, grabbing your bag and making your way back to the rest of the company. “Let me know if he gets in touch with you, though, okay?”

The boy on the other end scoffed. “He won’t. Chances are, he won’t talk to the rest of us for a week after he eventually shows up back home. As if it’s us who fucked up, and not him.”

“Did anything happen?” you asked, still trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. That wasn’t easy when each piece looked drastically different from the next and you had no idea what the full picture was supposed to look like. “Did someone say something to him? Did he get into a fight? Did he—”

“No. Nothing happened. We were—ah, shit, wait, his dad texted him, didn’t he?” Yoongi said but it didn’t sound like he was addressing you. He wasn’t; a moment later, a muffled, “yeah” sounded in the background of the call. Then, Yoongi continued, “yeah, we were finishing up with the soundcheck when he got a text from his dad. He read it and just fucking dipped. When he came back to do the show, he was already struggling on his feet.”

You cursed under your breath before thinking aloud, “his dad is here. I did see him text Jungkook but he was just sending him a picture—could it have been the picture that triggered him?”

“A picture of what?”

“There’s this barbecue that the company organized. His dad invited us both but he stayed back to do the show, so I came alone. We took a picture, everyone who’s here. And his dad sent it to him. Could that be the reason why he—”

“No,” Yoongi said right away, “company dinners—or barbecues, or whatever—doesn’t sound like Jungkook’s thing. He wouldn’t give a fuck about the picture. Unless you took someone there as your plus one?”

“Of course I didn’t. I was supposed to come with him but—oh, fuck.”

You stopped walking, the realization hitting you first, and the absurdity of it following right after.

Namjoon was in the picture next to you. He was just standing there, not even touching you, but was it possible that his appearance in the picture was enough for Jungkook to lose touch with reality?

“Fuck, of course, that’s possible,” you said out loud, almost stomping your feet in frustration like a kid, throwing a tantrum. “Listen, I have to go. I’ll text you if I find him.”

You didn’t hear Yoongi’s response because you were already pulling the phone away from your ear as you returned to the tent. You needed to find a way to leave without raising any suspicions with Jungkook’s father – whom you ran past in a wide semicircle like he was the plague itself – and you figured that the best way to do that would be faking a health emergency.

But for that, you needed to spend another few inconspicuous minutes by the table, looking colorless and uncomfortable. That wasn’t going to be difficult since you did feel light-headed already.

As you waited for the right amount of time to pass before you could leave, you tried texting Jungkook. You even tried calling – thinking you’d have enough time to walk far enough from the table so that’d no one would hear you – but the beeping signal never ceased and you didn’t get to hear Jungkook’s voice.

Right when you bit your lip, trying his number for the fifth time in a row as if the previous four times were just glitches in the system, someone noticed your distress.

“Hey,” Namjoon’s voice sounded by your ear, startling you because he was across the table from you just a second ago. “You okay? You came back to the table, looking very out of it.”

“Namjoon,” you said, your voice so grave, he thought you were about to tell him that the entire campus had burned down while the two of you weren’t there and you were the only suspects. “I need to leave.”

“Did something happen?” he asked, the concern in his voice genuine.

You nodded. “Jungkook got in trouble. I have to go back, b-but I can’t tell his father about any of this.”

You spoke without thinking about your last conversation with Namjoon or how this news could have confirmed Jungkook as a useless waste of space in his eyes. Frankly, in that moment, you couldn’t have cared less about Namjoon’s opinion of Jungkook. 

You could have used his help, even if he was going to judge you for it.

“I’m going to call myself a cab,” you said, “but could you please do me a favor, and tell his dad that I’d left because I wasn’t feeling well?”

Namjoon pulled back from your chair and looked across the table to his own seat – his leather jacket resting on the back of the chair – before giving you a nod.

“Let’s go,” he said. You were already standing up but then paused and sat back down, confused.

“What?”

“I’ll drive you back to campus,” he said, “we can leave without saying anything – no one will even notice. And then, when I’m back, I can tell everyone that you weren’t feeling well and that’s why I took you home early.”

“T-that’s very kind, but I can really just—”

“No, let me take you home,” Namjoon insisted as gently as he could, afraid that his forceful tone might remind you of his previous slip-up when you were talking about Jungkook. “It’ll be my way of apologizing for stepping over the line earlier today.”

You considered telling him that he had nothing to apologize for – he didn’t know Jungkook personally and everyone was entitled to their own opinion; you’d just gotten annoyed that he was so quick to hide this opinion under the curtain of fake politeness – but, eventually, the realization that you really didn’t have the time to debate if he should have felt apologetic or not won over, and you nodded.

You needed to get back to campus quickly, even if there was a risk of Jungkook seeing you and Namjoon together again – if that really was the reason why he got drunk and missed the encore of his own show.

“Okay. Let’s go,” you said, finally standing up. “Thank you.”

keep reading | masterlist

#bts reactions #bts college au #jeon jungkook #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook college au #college au #fanfiction #bts angst #bts imagines #angst #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

The Perfect Bad Boy (Pt. 16 of 18)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Working as a lifeguard in the Hawkins Community Pool, you try to fit in after moving from New York. Things were going pretty well when you notice you've been under someone's stare. Billy Hargrove, Hawkins' bad boy, has been staring at you since day one. You never intended to have anything to do with him, judging by the reputation he has. But Billy won't leave you alone, determined to show you his feelings are different this time...

As if your heart flooding you with confusing feelings wasn't enough, there are weird, strange animals lurking in the woods... But those have to be just part of the wild live of the woods surrounding Hawkins... Right?

<- Previous part (15)

Next part (17) ->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

×

The Loss Of A Friend

You've never been to a funeral. Well, you did, but you were a kid and you didn't know the family friend who was being buried that day. In your child's mind, you didn't get why everyone was wearing black, in uncomfortable silence, crying all day long. You remember clearly that a blue bug got your attention, making your eyes follow its every move, making you smile despite the sad atmosphere.

It couldn't be more different today.

As the coffin is lowered into the ground, where Jason will forever rest now, you hold Billy's hand, the soft fabric of your black dress tickling your tights. You barely feel it though, all your sensations resumed to the weight in your chest, crushing, squeezing your ribs, smashing your heart.

You suddenly remember the day Monica introduced you to Jason. It was the Saturday before you started working at the pool, in the parking lot of Starcourt Mall. He had his little brother on one arm, and the girl walking beside him, tugging on the hem his shirt.

“So that's the new girl.” He said, a smile spreading across his lips as he reached out his hand for you to shyly shake. “I'm Jason, born to bear the weight of being Monica's cousin, but also the coolest guy you'll find in Hawkins.”

That, of course, started a small war of cheesy pick-up lines, insults, and sarcastic comments. You laughed, feeling easily welcomed by Monica's cousin.

Now, what gets your attention is how his young siblings cry, yell, calling out Jason as is he was just sleeping inside the wooden box and would wake up, smile, and start chasing them around again. He won't. Jason is only a memory now.

“I think we should go,” Billy says in a low voice, letting go of your hand to rub your arms softly.

Nodding, you let him guide you to his Camaro, driving you away from the sea of people dressed in black. You've known Jason for such a little time compared to everyone else here, who saw him grow up, studied with him, lived near him for many years. Your pain is just a speck of dust compared to theirs.

When you get home, the sun is setting. You decide to call Diane, just to make sure she's alright, but you don't tell what happened. It would make her come here immediately, and the last thing you need is someone else you care about being in danger. You have to lie, despite hating yourself for it, telling her that your voice is funny because you had to yell a lot with the kids at the pool. But it's better this way. There are more than enough people here you need to worry about.

“Come here,” Billy calls when you finally head to the bedroom. He sits in the bed, back against the headrest and you're quick to crawl into the bed and into his arms. “How are you feeling?”

“I don't know. Sad doesn't really explain it.” Putting your legs over his, you hide your face on his neck, breathing in your favorite cologne, the only one he uses since the day you told him that. “I can't believe I buried Jason. Jason. My crazy-ass friend.” Your voice cracks and you hold back a sob. “I'll never hear those stupid jokes again.”

“I'm so sorry, princess.” There's a pain in his voice too. Billy has been around Jason a bit, mostly with you. But you know he's actually sad because of how broken you are. You can see it in his eyes, that he wish he could take your pain away, and that he's desperate because he doesn't know what to do.

But there's nothing Billy or anyone else could do. You can't fight death. You can't hit it with a baseball bat full of nails until it gives your friend back. The only thing you can do is avenge him. Get whatever took him and destroy it.

“I wanna kill those Demothings.” The anger in your voice is tangible, and you clench your hands into fists. “I swear to God, Billy, I'll kill one of them myself.”

“Anger won't help. We need to be smart about it. We need a strategy.” Billy is often angry with things. Mostly with things that hurt you, but this time, you get why he's taking another path, trying to calm you down instead of putting more wood in the fire. “The meeting is set for tomorrow. We'll find a battle plan to kill those damn things.” His hand comes to lay on your thigh, fingers softly caressing your skin. “But for now you need to rest, ok? I'll cook something you like and then we'll cuddle watching some nice movie. How does that sound?”

“What if I cry through the movie?” You ask because more tears start rolling down, it doesn't matter how many times you try to get rid of them.

“Then I'll hold you tight.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Billy is kind enough to try and get you into some small talk. Nothing too complicated, nothing related to the Demothings or Jason. You're thankful for that. He even manages to get a few laughs from you, although they're always followed by a reality check when the events of the last two days hit you again, and the smile is gone.

A couple of hours later you're watching Jaws, your head on Billy's chest as you try to follow the events of the movie. But it seems way too fast for you, or it's just your mind that's refusing to process anything that's happening.

You just keep thinking about death. About how Jason's whole life was cut short. How all of his plans for the future were erased.

“Billy, can I ask you something?” Keeping your voice low, you speak up for the first time since you came to the living room after having dinner.

“Of course, princess. What is it?”

Biting your lip, you consider if you should really bring that up. It's selfish to talk about your future when someone else won't have one. But this whole situation made you want to make plans because it's a privilege to still be here. It's a blessing to still have time. “What you said to Joyce about... Marriage. Did you really mean that or–” Pushing yourself up from where you were laying on top of him, you take a deep breath. “–or were you just trying to get out of the conversation. Because it's ok if–”

“Haven't I made it clear that I want to be with you for the rest of my life?” He moves to sit up as well, pulling you close until you're placed in between his legs, a hand caressing your cheek. “Because if I hadn't, I'll make it clear now. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I don't know how it happened, and it did get me by surprise, but the day you walked in the Hawkins Community Pool, I knew something changed in me. I knew I had to get to know you, and I did thought it would pass, that I'd get tired of you as I got of the other girls, but I didn't.” Billy holds you closer to him, your foreheads touching. “You hit me like–”

“Bang.” You finish for him, the memory of the day he was unbelievably honest with you coming back. The day he admitted to you, and somehow to himself too, that he liked you. It was also the day he punched David, and the day he kissed your cheek, making your stomach burn like it has been set on fire.

“Like bang.” He breathes out, warm lips coming in touch with yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him as close as you can, the need to feel that he's here, with you, clouding the sound of the TV. Billy moves to lay back down again, and when you move to follow his change of posture, your knee slips and connects to his ribs. “Ouch!” He breathes out, cutting off the kiss.

“Oh, shit. I'm so sorry.” Covering your mouth, you bring the free hand to rub his side. “Sorry, baby.”

Taking a deep breath, he grabs your arm and pulls you down, making you collide on his chest, giggling. “Sorry. I shouldn't be joking around with you now.”

Squinting your eyes at him, you try to get up, but his strong arms come around your body, keeping you from moving. “I hate you, Hargrove.” The fake sentence is soon overcome by a giggle. “I'll kick you right this time, I'm warning you.”

“Oh, I'm shaking like a leaf.”

“Don't test me, Hargrove. Keep in mind we sleep on the same bed and I know all of your habits, baby.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhmm.” Mumbling, you manage to stand up, moving back into a sitting position. You know he actually let you go, but there's no reason to acknowledge that. Taking a deep breath, the sudden happiness is stained again, as the memories crawl back. It seems like Billy notices because his smile softens. “I love living with you, you know that, right?”

“I love waking up next to you every morning.”

You can't help the smile that comes to your lips as you bend over again, kissing his lips.

On the next day, Billy calls Anthony to ask him to give you a few days off work. Obviously, you have to urge your hothead boyfriend not to curse the manager and risk losing his job. You feel fine to go to the pool, or you think you do, but the truth is you wouldn't be paying much attention anyway. And much to your dismay, Billy gets a total of zero days off. No discussion, what makes him hang up the phone so hard you thought he broke the poor thing.

Since you don't want to be alone, and Billy would absolutely never allow you to be alone in the house when you're friend just died, he drives you to Joyce's place, where the party will gather to make plans.

Saying it's hard to be away from Billy on the day after you buried Jason is a misunderstanding. Seeing him drive away from Joyce's porch makes you feel like he's taking your heart with him. He didn't seem pleased either, but there was no other choice. You wouldn't make him miss the day, since you know Anthony is a terrible human being, just looking for the right excuse to get rid of the lifeguards.

“Honey, come inside,” Joyce calls a hand on your shoulder. “Can I get you something to eat? We had pizza last night and I have a slice in the fridge.”

“No, thank you, Joyce.” Politely, you decline her offer. “Is there any bed I can crash in?”

“Sure. Come.” Walking through Jonathan and Will, you wave at them, muttering a good morning and trying not to cry at their sad faces. They know Jason was a close friend, and, like everyone else, they don't know what to do or say. “This is Will's and Jonathan's room. Just pick a bed.” Nodding, you choose the one on the left and lie down. “Do you need to talk?”

“There's nothing to say.” Putting your head on a pillow, you stare at the ceiling. You feel comfortable around Joyce, she has this mother thing about her. “I just want this to end. Before anyone else gets... Eaten.” The word makes you shiver as it brings the image of his body back. “I wish I wasn't the one to find him. To... See him that way. I don't think I'll ever forget that.”

“Honey, I'm so sorry.” She comes to sit on the edge of the bed. “When... When they found Will's body, it hurt. I knew in my heart it wasn't him, but the very idea of losing my baby was horrible. So I have an idea of how you feel. Losing someone is a pain that doesn't go away. You'll get used to it, but it remains. All we can do is learn to deal with it and honor them by carrying their memories.”

You're crying through her speech, and you can't help but sit up and hug her, crying on her shoulder. “We have to be careful because I can't lose anyone else.” You're not sure if she can even understand what you're saying, but since she nods, you think she did.

“Don't worry, honey. We'll all be alright.” She pulls away, rubbing both your arms. “The kids will be here soon, but feel free to stay here or join us, ok? Do whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Thanks.” Offering her a small, sad smile, you watch as she leaves.

You hear when they get here, the chattering starts, and you can understand a few words here and there. They talk about you, and about Billy and about the funeral. But soon enough it falls into the major problem. And that's when you tune out, staring at the ceiling, trying not to make yourself too comfortable in someone else's bed.

The only thing you want now is Billy. You want to go back to the time where there was no Demogorgon, Demowhatever lurking around. At least to you. It's weird to know what really happened in Billy's car accident, how he was almost the host for the Mind Flayer. You're happy it didn't happen, that he's here now. You need to thank Max for that, actually. If it wasn't for her and the others, your Billy wouldn't be here. He could be dead, and you'd never meet him. He'd never shoot glances at you, or drive you home, buy you tacos or punch David's face. Or kiss you, hold you, love you. The thought of a life without Billy in it is absurd. Now, more than ever, after you lost someone so dear, you have this need to be with him. Just to make sure he's here.

Breathing out and closing your eyes, your hand comes to hold the necklace. It makes you feel closer to Billy, and there is a silent promise here, one you hold close to your heart, together with the earring.

Eyes open, you get up of the bed. You don't care if you got days off, you have to see him. Even if it's just for a hug. Leaving the bedroom, you make your way to the living room, which is crowded.

“We wait until it's late at night to make sure the Demodogs are out, sneak inside the tunnels, and spill insane amounts of gasoline all over it. Get the hell out, wait until it's morning, and set the whole thing on fire.” Dustin says, hands in the air and a smile on his face.

He's kidding, right? He can't be suggesting that as if it's the greatest idea of the world. “Are you completely insane?” You ask, making your presence known. Arms crossed, your eyes scan through the party. “You can't possibly think this is a good idea.”

“I agree with (Y/N), this is insane,” Joyce adds, her face making it clear she thinks this idea sucks. “I won't let you do that.”

“But–”

“The point is to kill them without getting ourselves killed. And every single idea you come up with has a hundred different ways to get us killed.” Steve says, both his hand on his hips as he paces around the room. “Who thinks this idea sucks raise your hand.” He's the first to do it, and Joyce, you, and Jonathan do the same.

“Count Billy in.” You say, raising the other hand as well.

“And Hopper,” Joyce states, giving you an approving stare.

“It's six against seven. We're doing it.” Dustin exclaims.

“No.” You basically shout, not caring one bit if you sound bossy. All eyes lay on you as you struggle to keep it together. “We're not doing it and that's final.”

“I–”

“I just lost a friend and I will not let you do something that might just end up in another funeral.” There are tears threatening to fall again, but you hold them back. “So come up with something else.”

The silence is deafening. You know you're breaking down again, even though the tears aren't rolling down. Yet.

“Please. There's gotta be something else.” Lowering your voice and looking down at your feet, you beg. You can't even think about someone else dying. You couldn't bear it.

“I saw this thing at school. Like a robot with remote control.” Lucas starts. “If we could build a bunch of them and attach a hose, we could guide it inside the tunnels and spread the gasoline.”

“Yeah, but there are seven holes. Which means a lot of ground we'd have to cover.” Eleven adds as you make your way to the group, sitting on the couch beside Joyce.

“Let's blow up six of them.” You burst out, crossing your legs. “A hell of a explosion that would take those things days to dig it back. Then there will be only one way in and out. Find a hell of a long hose or just connect a bunch of them and a million gallons of gas. The robots will spread it then we'll just need a match.”

“That's good. It could work.” Nancy says. “But we'll need to chip in to buy all these things.

“Hopper can get some for free I'm sure.”

“We start right now.” Mike stands up and the others follow. “Let's get started.”

The rest of the day is hectic. Lists are made, one of the kids teachers come over to help with what they called a summer project. For fun. And the materials started arriving. You don't really know what to do, so you help Joyce make lunch, keeping up with her small talk. Joyce is easy to be around, and you like to hear her stories about Will and Jonathan. You even manage to show a few smiles every now and then. After everyone is fed, you finally sit on the porch, trying to help as much as you can. The kids are genius, literally building remote control robots from random pieces and the instructions from books. It's amazing. Since you can't really be of much help in this aspect, you join Nancy, separating stuff or doing anything they tell you too.

When the sun is setting, some of them had to go home to gather their stuff. They'll crash here and take the robot construction through the night. By the moment you hear the faint noise of Billy's car, it's just Joyce's kids, Steve and Dustin. Leaving the small pieces of metal you were shaping into tiny little circles, you stand up abruptly.

“Where are you going? These circles aren't going to make themselves.” Dustin complains, raising his hands in the air.

“Billy is back.” There's no need for further explanation, so you tiptoe among the stuff, careful not to step on anything.

“It could be anyone.”

“Dustin, is there any other car in Hawkins that sounds like that?” As you speak, the noise gets louder and Billy's car comes to your sight.

“She knows her boyfriend's car.” Steve jokes as you walk to the yard, smiling when Billy stops the car and comes out.

“Miss me, princess?”

“Obviously.” It's a feeling of pure relief to see him. It feels like it's been so much longer than just some hours, but you feel that you'll have this insane need to be around him for a while. Just to enjoy the fact that you're still alive. You can't help but wonder for long the idea of death will hover over you... Probably forever.

“You ok?” He asks, his hand on your hair as you have your head on his chest.

“I will be.” Remembering the audience, you pull away, standing on your toes to kiss him. “Dustin had a terrible idea but I made him change his mind about it.”

“How did you do that?”

“I yelled.” With no intention of further explanation, you turn at the guys. “I'll be back tomorrow morning, alright? Have fun doing crazy science.” Waving at them, you get into the car.

You would like to stay at Joyce's, keep helping as much as you can, but you feel like you need silence and peace. The kid's laughter and jokes make you feel better, but you know that you also need to let the sadness creep over for a while. Keeping it hidden, disguised, makes no good. So as you dry and brush your hair, waiting for Billy to finish his shower, you cry.

For Monica, for Jason's younger siblings, his mother, his father, uncle, and aunt. For every friend he made since he was born. And for yourself too. Jason was one of the people that you imagined you'd be around for the rest of your life.

You're dragged away from your thoughts by the phone's ring. Rushing to answer it, you find it's Joyce, kindly asking if you can pick Mike up and drive him to her place, and of course, you comply.

“Billy.” You call when you hear him coming out of the bathroom. “Joyce needs us to pick up Mike. Nancy can't stop what she's doing there.”

“Sure. Let's go.”

Being out at night makes you anxious, but you try not to let it show. Eyes on the road, you bounce your leg nervously, tugging on the seat belt. Billy notices, and a hand comes to rest on your thigh.

“We'll be fine. Relax.”

“I'm trying.” Stretching your arm, you touch his neck. “I'm sorry if I can't stop thinking about Jason and what happened.”

“(Y/N), you just lost a friend. My responsibility as your boyfriend is to hold and love you through this process. Don't apologize.”

“I don't want this to be your responsibility, Billy.” When he turns his head to look at you, you run your fingers through his jaw.

He takes a deep breath, pulling over by Mike's house. You were about to get out, but since he doesn't move, neither do you. Billy looks like he's thinking, furrowed eyebrows and distant eyes. “Billy? Come back to Earth.” You decide to ask, taking off the belt and turning your body towards his.

“To have and to hold. For better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.” He squints his eyes through the words, trying to remember them. It takes a while for you to understand what he means, and when you do, your heart starts drumming in your ears. “To love and cherish till death do us part.”

“Billy...”

“It means I'll stand by your side. Not because I feel like it's my responsibility, but because I love you. And I'm more than happy to take the responsibility of being your–”

“Couldn't you save that up for, I don't know, someday when I'm dressed in white?” The words come out fast, and you're blushing hard, your cheeks burning. “No. You had to do this now. Drive me insane now in your Camaro.” You roll your eyes dramatically when his lips break into a smile, that smug, cocky smile he has when he knows he got to you somehow.

“Be my wife, (Y/N).”

“No.” It's an utter absurd how hard you have to fight not to say the exact opposite. You want to just burst out the word, here and now, because you're so damn sure you want Billy for the rest of your life. “No, baby. We'll graduate, save up money and you'll make a decent proposal.” You hope he can't notice your hands shaking as you step out of the car, almost stumbling on the sidewalk. His words burn through your mind, sending shivers down your spine. “I won't say I'll marry you in the middle of the sidewalk, in the middle of the night, in front of Mike's house.”

“Did I just make you nervous?” Billy's arms come to encircle your waist, his deep voice, and breath on your hair making you sigh.

“Shut up, Hargrove.” With the sweet sound of his laughter on your ear, you knock on the front door, trying to push him away before someone comes to answer. “Let go.”

“Are you using my cologne again?” As soon as he asks, you feel his nose softly rubbing your neck, what makes you giggle and try to push him away again, uselessly. “You are.”

It wasn't your intention to let him find out, but he always does. “Well, it was–”

The door is suddenly open, a yellowish light hitting your eyes as you try to stand up straighter. The woman standing there gives a step back as if she just saw a ghost. Her eyes fly from Billy and back at you, then all the way back to Billy. It hits you suddenly as you realize she's Mrs. Wheeler, the woman Billy was going to meet on the day the Mind Flayer almost got him. They haven't met or spoken since that day, and you weren't expecting her to look so... Perplexed. You try to read her expression, to understand what the look in her eyes means.

“Hello, Mrs. Wheeler.” You manage to say because Billy clearly won't even try to be polite. You feel his muscles tensing up, as he gets immediately uncomfortable under the woman's stare since she doesn't seem to even try to hide. “Sorry to disturb you. We're here for Mike.”

×

@chloe-skywalker @dpaccione @dreamin-of-dacre @funeral-7 @uncookspaget @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @halloweenbitch2764 @redlovett @multific @shinydixon @nikkixostan @clockworkballerina @nope-thanks

#imagine billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #billy stranger things #stranger things imagine #imagine stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

[k-and-the-arts]

Lover - Willex

Pairing: Alex Mercer/Willie Word Count: 2412 Based on Taylor Swift’s song “Lover.” Read on AO3

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

And this is our place, we make the rules

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

 It all happened so fast. One minute, Alex was walking down Sunset Boulevard, clearing his head, and the next minute he was getting run over by a gorgeous boy on a skateboard. He wanted to be mad, he really did, but when the boy started talking, all anger dissolved. The skater was charming and dorky and was able to convince Alex to follow him after exchanging only a few words. 

Willie guided Alex to his favorite spot on Sunset Boulevard -- a simple bench that was “the best place to people-watch” as the skater had said. People in weird furry costumes and outfits of dead celebrities walked by, but Alex only had eyes for Willie. The brunette talked about everything that popped into his head, and none of it seemed to have a coherent flow. He mentioned his favorite places to skate, random facts about the ocean, and weird ways different famous people died. The blonde talked about his friends, the band, and the one time they ate street dogs that were so bad, they had food poisoning for three days.

“Reggie was convinced we were going to die,” Alex had told Willie, causing the other boy to burst into a fit of giggles that sounded like music to Alex’s ears. 

The drummer didn’t say much after that; he was content with listening to Willie’s voice and all of the stories that fell from his lips. He loved watching the way Willie’s eyes sparkled when something he was talking about reminded him of another topic, and it amazed Alex that the boy knew so much about everything.  

There was a lull in the conversation as the sun started to set, painting the sky in beautiful shades of purples and pinks and oranges. Willie was watching the sky but Alex was watching Willie. There was a dazzling glow around the boy that made him look ethereal. A small gust of wind blew through the street, causing Willie’s long hair to float gracefully around him. Alex’s breath caught in his throat and he tried to take it all in. He wanted to replay this moment in his mind over and over again for as long as he could remember it. 

There was suddenly a small, sharp pain in his chest; a sign of his anxiety taking over. He tried to push it down, push it away. His instincts told him to run, this is happening too fast, but his heart told him to keep his feet planted firmly to the ground. He had never felt so smitten about someone so quickly before and it was the most exciting yet terrifying thing he had ever felt. 

Even though they had been talking for only a few hours, Alex felt like he had known the skater his entire life. It felt like they were childhood friends, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. But Alex knew there was still so much to learn, and his heart ached for so much more. 

As the sky grew dark, Willie’s gaze floated back to him. Alex quickly looked away, focusing his attention on the fairylights on building awnings and edging that had created an intimate glow around them. If Willie had caught him staring, he didn’t say anything, and Alex appreciated that. 

“I love leaving the Christmas lights up until January,” Willie said suddenly, causing Alex’s eyes to snap back to the boy that was beautifully sculpted under the soft light.

“Hmm?” Alex hummed, hoping Willie would continue.

Willie gestured to the fairylights above them. “I didn’t get to experience a lot of proper Christmases growing up,” Willie said quietly, as if talking too loudly would shatter the tension that had grown around them. “I want to experience Christmas for as long as possible. So I try to leave the lights and decorations up for as long as Caleb will let me, which is usually in January.” 

The question was on the tip of Alex’s tongue -- Who’s this mysterious Caleb? 

But he stayed silent, nodding to acknowledge Willie’s words. He knew Willie would tell him if he asked, but he needed something to look forward to when they talked again. If they talked again.

Willie opened his mouth to speak again but the sound of smooth jazz interrupted him. The brunette pulled his phone out of his pocket and sighed. He ignored the call but stood up from the bench, slipping the phone back into his pocket and placing the helmet back on his head. 

“It was really nice to meet you, but unfortunately I have to go. I’ll catch ya later, Hotdog,” Willie smirked, letting his board drop to the ground.

 Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my

Lover

  Alex wanted to run after him, wanted to follow him home. He immediately missed Willie’s warmth and light and yearned to be by his side again. He rewatched the entire afternoon in his mind like a movie, and by the time he made it back to the studio, his cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Julie and Flynn begged him to tell them everything, while Luke, Reggie, and Bobby teased him mercilessly. But he didn’t tell him any details and ignored the overdramatic swooning and kissy faces, refusing to let them ruin one of the best days of his life.

 We could let our friends crash in the living room

This is our place, we make the call

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

 The next three years were the most difficult and exhilarating years in Alex’s life. While his relationship with Willie grew wonderfully, along with the band’s success, his relationship with his parents fell apart. As soon as he graduated, he packed his bags and found the cheapest apartment he could. He took the first job that would hire him and tried to support himself as best he could. The Molinas offered to take him in but he didn’t want to burden them. The band suffered as they tried to find a way to rehearse around everyone’s work schedule. Alex could feel his life crumbling around him and he found it harder and harder to wake up every day.

But then there was Willie. He was the light in the darkness and the glue that kept him together. 

And when Willie suggested they move in together, Alex felt his heart stop. 

“I’ve been wanting to move out for awhile now and I already found a place that I can afford and it’s decent and I know this is like, a crazy huge step but --”

“Yes.”

The word flew from his lips before he allowed his brain to catch up, over think, and lose his nerve. The large smile that grew on Willie’s face was all the confirmation he needed that he made the right decision. 

Willie convinced Alex to quit his shitty job and convinced Caleb to let the band play at the Hollywood Ghost Club whenever they weren’t playing at other gigs. They were finally living the dream. Rehearsing and writing during the day and playing to large crowds almost every night. 

After their sets at the club, they would just linger around the building, mingling and making connections with the Hollywood elite that could afford to be there. Alex would watch Willie work, flitting from table to table and chatting up anyone who would look in his direction. It was amazing to watch him go from a dorky skater boy that couldn’t even finish a complete story without switching to a new topic, to a super charming and eloquent figure that never failed to convince a guest to give a very generous donation to the club. 

Alex was also pretty sure that half of the crowd was just as besotted with Willie as he was. But he knew he didn’t have to be jealous of anyone in the room. He knew he had Willie’s entire heart, just as Willie had his. And at the end of the night, he would be the one that would be holding Willie’s hand, and kissing Willie’s lips, and laying next to him in bed.

And if their friends got a little too drunk to drive home, he would be the one to help Willie carry them back to their apartment. He would be the one helping Willie rearrange the living room so that their friends had a place to sleep. He would be the one thanking him for being the best boyfriend anyone could ever ask for. 

 Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my

Lover

 Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

  That same night, Alex was lying against Willie on the couch, playing with the skater’s rough, yet surprisingly soft fingers. Their friends were asleep, sprawled out everywhere on the living room floor, and Alex wished he could just freeze time and just stay in this moment forever. He was surrounded by his love and support and he couldn’t imagine anything better than this. Not until Willie whispered those words.

“Have you ever thought about marriage?” 

Alex sucked in a breath and his fingers were still against Willie’s. Had Alex thought about marriage? 

All the time.

Ever since they moved in together two years prior. But he always thought that it was too big of a thought; too obsessive. He didn’t want to scare Willie by moving too fast, even if they were just flashing ideas in his mind. He didn’t want Willie to leave him because he was too dependent, too attached to their relationship, too--

Alex realized how silent he had been and tried to scrounge up words so that Willie didn’t think he was freaked out, even if he kinda was.

But Willie didn’t seem to be bothered by Alex’s silence. Because Willie knew Alex so well. He knew exactly how Alex would react if he were to ask that kind of question. Willie continued, “I’ve thought about it a lot, recently. I’ve thought about us and this thing we’re doing. I don’t know all the details or anything, but I do know one thing for sure,” Willie paused and Alex looked up at him, waiting for the deep sentiment the boy was about to share. “Luke would definitely be the flower girl.”

This threw Alex into a fit of giggles and Willie’s smile was radiant. “I think Ruby would fight Luke for that position,” Alex said through his laughter.

At the mention of his sister, he sobered up. He had no doubt Ruby would absolutely want to be a part of his wedding; she would probably want to plan everything herself. He just hoped his parents would want to be there as well. Even if they didn’t agree with it, he’d hope they would at least care enough to see him happy. Thinking about how he would tell his parents and how they would react, his thoughts started to spiral once again.

It was as if Willie could sense his anxiety rising. He laced his fingers with Alex’s and squeezed reassuringly. 

Alex could feel Willie’s chest rumble as he spoke again. “We’re not gonna have a traditional wedding though. Those are too boring. Maybe we’ll do something crazy like have all the girls be groomsman and all the guys be bridesmaids. Or however it’ll work for us.” Alex didn’t really know either, but nodded in agreement. “And no traditional vows. We gotta get creative. Like, I dunno.  ‘I, Wilhelm Covington the Third,’”

“Willie, your first name isn’t Wilhem and you’re definitely not a ‘third,’” Alex chuckled, grinning up at his boyfriend.

“Shush, that’s what makes it creative. Now where was I? Oh yeah,

‘I, Wilhelm Covington the Third, with all the skateboard scars on my hand, take this magnetic force of a man,’” Willie paused, and Alex could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears as he tried to think of something funny. When that famous smirk crossed his features, Alex was ready to cringe. “‘I take this magnetic force of a man, Hotdog, to be my husband. Through cracked helmets and bad street dogs, and even when we’re ghosts.’”

Alex rolled his eyes but his smile only grew wider. He decided to play along, “and I promise to be super over-dramatic and constantly swooning over you.” 

“And you’ll save all your worst jokes for me. I want your lamest and dirtiest and cringiest jokes,” Willie added.

Alex nodded in agreement, trying to think of other funny vows. But the more he thought about it, the more everything was sinking in. Willie continued to ramble about silly vows and untraditional wedding things they could do. But all Alex could think about was the fact that Willie wanted to marry him. 

Willie wanted to marry him. 

He wanted to be Alex’s husband. He wanted to be Alex’s forever. No matter what life threw their way, Willie wanted to be by Alex’s side. He wanted to go everywhere and do everything with Alex. Through sickness, health, and everything in between. 

Alex looked back up at Willie and pushed himself up to interrupt his boyfriend with a gentle kiss to the lips. 

“Yes,” Alex whispered, his heart pounding and anxiety -- no, excitement -- filling his chest.

“Yes?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

 Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my

Oh, you're my, my, my, my

Darling, you're my, my, my, my

Lover

#willex #jatp #alex mercer x willie #alex mercer #willie nolastname #julie and the phantoms #willex fic #willex fanfiction #jatp fanfic #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #lyric fic

[actuallybarb]

The Aftermath ~ Part 7

Summary: y/n goes to therapy, is a confirmed hoodie stealer, and gets a pep talk from sam wilson and wanda maximoff

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, trauma, me attempting to write a therapy session 

Word Count: 3850

A/N: so many things. 1) i’ve never been to therapy (even tho i desperately need it) so i’m solely basing that off of Freaky Friday with Lindsay Lohan. 2) i live for sleepy tropes and i hella indulged. 3) sorry not sorry

                                                         //////////

“Your projects are due next Monday. Have one partner email me who your group is working with, and no, Mr. Thompson, you can’t work with students from other periods. Class dismissed.”

“Want to work together?”

We had been going to class together for a month now, but it always seemed like Peter was surprised whenever he saw me sitting next to him. Maybe it wasn’t surprise...

“Yeah. When do you want to work on it?” I shoved my notes into my already disorderly backpack and slung it over my shoulders. It was starting to get colder in New York, but I was still wearing t-shirts and shorts (mostly because I could keep myself warm and also because I’m stubborn as hell).

“Thursday? Or do you want to start sooner than that?”

“No, I can do Thursday. Are you going to the compound this weekend?” It wasn’t more than a whisper, but I still checked who was around before asking. You can never be too careful.

“Yeah, May’s driving me up after school on Friday. Want a ride?”

I smiled. “That’d be nice.” People were slowly making their way out of the building to head home for the day, but I was heading to Manhattan.

“You going home?”

“No, I’m seeing my shrink. I’ll see you tomorrow, Peter.”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” He turned right, I turned left, and I might have turned around and glanced back at him over my shoulder, just for a second.

But so did he.

/////////

Taylor’s office had a billion plants and as many windows in it. She always had a candle burning that smelled like clean laundry, and she liked to talk first whenever we met up. That’s why I liked her so much.

“Remember my crazy neighbor’s dog?” She was watering one of her plants when I walked in. “Guess who I accidentally ran over?”

“You ran over a dog?” I left my backpack by the door and grabbed my own watering can.

“No, not the dog. I ran over my neighbor while he was chasing after the dog.”

I laughed. “Like that’s much better.”

“Running over a dog is unforgivable, Y/N. A person is understandable.” We finished watering the plants then sat down at the huge floor-to-ceiling window that took up her back wall. Another reason I liked Taylor: I actually do stuff while I’m talking with her. It’s not like I’m sitting on a couch staring at her while I talk about my feelings, we’re on equal ground. The last couple visits I’ve worked on painting New York, but I haven’t made much progress because I’m a shit painter. “That’s not the point,” Taylor would say, “it’s all about going with it. Be a shit painter. Own it.” Yeah, we get along great.

“No more panic attacks since the first day.”

“Yeah? That’s great.” Unlike me, Taylor is a phenomenal painter. Her skyline had identifiable buildings. Mine had — I think one looks more like a tree than a building. (That’s one huge tree.) “Any nightmares?”

Oh. We’re going there today. “Just on bad days.”

“How often are the bad days?”

After the Blip and before Europe, my bad days went from every day to maybe once a week. Then Europe fucked me over. Now? I don’t know. “Whenever they feel like it.”

“C’mon, Y/N, you can do better than that.”

I rolled my eyes and groaned. “It’s not like it’s a cycle, like the moon or a period or our meetings. It’s sporadic, Taylor, and fucking exhausting.”

“Why? Why are the bad days so exhausting?”

I may or may not have angrily made a bird smash against a window in my painting. “Because I’m the only one who knows. Mom guesses, most of the time, but it’s like she’s still dancing around me. Dad sees it when he’s home, but he doesn’t know what to do. And—“ I almost said ‘and Peter.’ That would’ve been awkward. “And my friends make it better, but they’ve got their own shit to deal with, and I don’t want to dump any of my problems on them. And I know you’re going to say ‘Internalizing your pain is bad, Y/N,’ but it’s the only solution I can handle right now until I muster up the courage to actually talk to my mom again. I mean, last time I needed Jess by my side, how the hell am I going to handle it without her?”

“For starters, I’m proud of you for acknowledging the way to address the problem. And secondly, you don’t have to do it by yourself. I’ve actually been wanting to have another session with your parents, and now seems like as good of a time as any. Bring them around for your next session, and we’ll talk to them, together, about how you can get through bad days with their help. Okay?”

My lips quirked up, just a smidge. “Okay.”

“Now let’s talk about King T’Challa’s new suit, you can’t pretend you don’t have an opinion on it...”

///////

It was a bad day.

Which sucked, because it was also Thursday, and Peter was supposed to be over in half an hour to work on our project. And I was a mess.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Mom called from the living room. Her elementary school got out twenty minutes before Midtown, so she usually beat me home. “How was school?”

“It’s a bad day,” was all I said before I closed the door to my room. I didn’t slam it (not anymore) but I didn’t know anything else. I couldn’t tell if I wanted a nap, I couldn’t tell if I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, I couldn’t tell if I wanted to fly from rooftop to rooftop until I was too exhausted to come home; I didn’t know. Which sucked, because I’m the only one who could’ve told me the answer.

The was a light knock on my door. “Can I come in?” I didn’t respond, so Mom walked in. “Mind me asking why today was bad?” I still didn’t say anything, my face buried in my pillow. She sat at the edge of my bed, near my knees. “I can usually tell, you know.” It was a hushed voice that came out of her mouth - nothing like the loud and loving woman I’ve known almost my whole life. “You do a good job of trying to cover it up, but I can tell. Your shoulders are tenser than usual, and your eyebrows are crinkled together the second you step out of your room.” She sighed and put a hand on my back - her hands are always warm and usually smell like hand sanitizer from Bath and Body Works because she refuses to use the government-issued ones at school. “You dad and I have no idea what you went through while we were gone. We have no idea what you went through in Europe. But we’re here for you now, Y/N. You carry this weight around with you, and I just — I want you to know that you have people to share it with. Maybe not the weight itself, but the pain it’s causing you.” She removed her hand and set both of them in her lap. “I don’t know how to make the bad days better, so I need you to tell me when you’re ready. I’m here for you, baby.” She leaned down and kissed my head, then stood up and started walking toward the door.

When her hand was on the knob, I finally spoke up. “Thank you.” It was barely a grumble, but she heard it.

The door closed quietly, and I finally decided what I wanted to do.

Cry. I cried. For at least twenty minutes. I cried because of my abilities, I cried because I lost Jess as a mom, I cried because I went to Europe, I cried because Quentin Beck was an asshole that fucked up my mental state for probably the rest of my life, I cried because I killed a lot of people, I cried because now I was friends with Peter but at what cost?

He showed up, eventually. I heard him knock on the front door as I blew my nose. Mom, bless her soul, kept him distracted until I came out of my room myself. It took me another twenty minutes to finally convince myself to leave my room, and at that point I was too exhausted to keep myself warm anymore, so the cold breeze blowing through New York hit me in full force. I slipped a hoodie on, grabbed my backpack, and took a deep breath before opening the door.

Peter was sitting at the counter while Mom washed the dishes from breakfast this morning. She was back to talking loud, and he was listening with a smile on his face. My door closed and his eyes immediately darted to me. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey, Pete. Is it okay if we’re in the living room?”

Mom glanced between the two of us and tried to hide her little smile, but at least one of us caught it. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be in the office if you need anything.”

He must’ve noticed my bloodshot eyes; he couldn’t stop staring. “Is that my hoodie?”

Shit. Is it? I glanced down at the Midtown Tech logo and remembered getting drenched at the compound after the sprinklers unexpectedly came on. Then Peter gave me his hoodie. “Shit, yeah, it is.” I pulled on the sleeves to take it off, but he shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it, I have at least two more at home.” He pulled out his laptop and it was suddenly back to business. “Any ideas how we’re going to do this?”

We bounced ideas off of each other until we came to a rough draft, but it was getting later, and bad days always get worse at night.

“Shit, is it ten already?” Peter started gathering his things and stuffing them in his bag. “I told May I’d be home by ten, I hate being late.”

I pulled out my phone and sent May a quick text; we’ve had each other’s numbers since my first weekend at the compound. We lost track of time, he’s heading home now.

I figured. See you tomorrow :)

Peter stood up and started walking toward the door, and I followed him. I had spoken maybe twenty sentences the whole time (it’s a miracle we got this far in the project) but I couldn’t convince myself to say anything else before he left. And I wanted to. But I also wanted to cave in on myself — and we both know which option was winning that battle.

“Do you need a hug?” He basically had one foot out the door, but he turned around and asked me this.

“What?”

“Your heartbeat — it’s been off all day. And it still is right now, and — Do you need a hug?”

God, he was perfect. And I was so gone.

All I needed all day was a goddamn hug, and now he’s offering one, and tears started brimming in my eyes before I could even nod yes. He was so warm, and his voice flitted around in his chest, and I would’ve felt bad about getting tears on his shirt, except I didn’t care anymore. All I cared about was how the weight on my shoulders lifted when Peter Parker’s arms were wrapped around them.

“Are you going to be okay?” he mumbled in my hair. I only nodded again. “Okay.” He slowly loosened his grip, but not before he left a quick kiss on my head. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Another nod. “See you tomorrow.”

///////

Peter was going crazy. Since we hadn’t found any footage that could clear Spider-Man’s name without incriminating Peter he wasn’t allowed out as his alter-ego. And he was literally climbing the walls of the compound.

I was blowing gusts of air at him, trying to knock him down from the ceiling. We had officially finished our project only twenty minutes before, so I pulled up the EDITH footage from London, trying to think of how to clear Spider-Man’s name.

And then it hit me.

“Oh my god.” I ran to the computer and started typing away furiously. “I think I figured it out.”

He came back to the ground. “Figured what out?”

“We can just use the audio file from the video. Then your face doesn’t have to be in it at all.”

I found the file and played it over the speakers.

“EDITH! Turn off the drones.”

“Should I execute all cancellation protocols?”

“Yes, execute them all.”

It was perfect. Exactly what we needed.

“Peter.” I turned to him with a huge smile on my face. “This can save Spider-Man.”

“This can save Spider-Man,” he repeated. “Shit, Y/N, you just saved Spider-Man.” He wrapped his arms around me tightly and lifted me in the air, his laugh ringing in my ear. “I can still be Spider-Man!”

I laughed along with him. He set me down after a minute, but we were still standing unbelievably close together. One minuscule step forward and my lips would be on his. His heart beat jumped, and so did mine, but he didn’t pull away. Neither of us pulled away.

His tilted his head and kissed my cheek (which I still freaked out over) and then took a step back.

“We have to call Pepper and tell her.”

“Yeah, yeah.” FRIDAY started the call and Pepper was over the moon.

“We’ll get a press conference set up for tomorrow, and I’ll work on a statement. Peter,” this was the sternest I had ever heard her - even more serious than when she was talking to Morgan, “I know this is all good news, but you have to wait to be Spider-Man still. All of this press has to die down first before you can go out in the open again, okay?”

“Yes, Mrs. Potts.”

“Okay. I’ll see you two bright and early tomorrow.”

She hung up and Peter hugged me again. This one was way more subdued than the last one. “Thank you, Y/N,” he mumbled into my neck.

“You’re welcome, Pete.”

//////////

The press conference went well, according to Rhodey. “I think most of them were relieved to know Spider-Man’s not actually a murderer.” Everyone was dying to have Spider-Man come out and answer questions, but Pepper insisted no questions were being taken at that time, or ever.

MJ called Peter after the press conference was released to the public, and they talked for what felt like forever. The second he got the call I went to the training room: to distract myself or actually train, well, it doesn’t matter because both were done.

A simulation droid was about to “kill” me, but red magic tore it apart at the last second.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Are you okay?”

I shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because Peter’s been talking on the phone for the same time you’ve been in here.” Wanda gave me a knowing look. You forget that she can read minds because she’s not invasive about it, but she’s always there, holding the information to either back you up or tear you down.

I sighed. “He’s talking to MJ. And I know there’s a high possibility that they’ll get back together but a part of me is hoping they won’t.”

“So you can be with him instead.” I gave a small nod. “Don’t give up yet, Y/N. I see the way he looks at you. You might have more of a chance than you think.”

“She’s right, kid.”

I jumped in surprise. “How long have you been listening?”

Sam smiled from the observation deck of the training room. “Long enough. Boys are stupid, they need all the help they can get.”

“I’ve given him plenty of help already. Literally.”

“Haha, very funny.” He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. If it doesn’t work out with MJ, shoot your shot. I have a feeling you won’t be disappointed.” He winked before leaving, and Wanda followed suit.

I rolled my eyes before telling FRIDAY to pick another random simulation. “Make it a good one.” And, boy, did she. It was the hardest one yet, and all of my concentration was going into it. I was so focused I didn’t even notice Peter walk in until after I had won.

“Damn.”

I turned quickly to see him standing near the door, his hands in his pockets. “Hey. How’d it go?”

“It was okay. She saw the news.”

“But…”

“But it’s not happening. I-“ he looked down at the ground, “I can’t trust her. Not when she lost trust in me. And I- I think I’m interested in someone else.”

I nodded along. I tried to keep my heart as normal as possible but it was beating too hard from my adrenaline to be controllable; I’m almost positive Peter heard it jump at the news. “That’s understandable. Who’s the, uh, the someone else?” God, please be me.

Peter’s lips twitched up to a small smile. “You’ll find out eventually.” He stepped further into the room and relaxed a bit. “Want to do a round together?”

I wanted to. I really wanted to. But I was exhausted, and I think I pulled a muscle, and I could already feel bruises forming where I ungracefully fell on my side. So I just shook my head. “Some other time.”

My room had a bathroom attached to it, and that’s where I spent the next half hour, standing under the blazing hot water coming from the shower. Once I convinced myself to actually get out and change into pajamas, I grabbed my laptop and climbed into bed. I was going home tomorrow, I deserved a few hours of shuteye.

Then someone knocked on my door and ruined the whole ambiance.

“Oh, you’re - I was just - I’ll just go.”

“No, Peter, what’s up?”

He was standing there, hair damp from the shower, black t-shirt and flannel pajama pants on, looking hot as ever. “I was going to ask if you wanted to watch a movie, but you’re already in bed, so never mind.” He turned to walk away, and I almost let him because I was on-my-ass exhausted, but I didn’t. I couldn’t, not when he looked like that (soft, but also hot as fuck).

“Come on.” He turned, and I opened the door wider. “I was about to watch Gilmore Girls, but we can watch a movie if you want.” I pulled back the covers and left plenty of room for Peter to sit beside me.

“We can watch Gilmore Girls, I don’t mind.”

The second I pressed ‘play’ on the third episode was the second my eyes could barely stay open any longer. I tried so hard to watch Jess win Rory back, but sleep caught up with me and I let it win. I used Peter’s shoulder as a pillow and decided sleep was a battle I didn’t mind losing.

////////

I woke up to my alarm, but as quickly as my eyes opened, Peter’s arm pulled me closer to him. I was too tired to feel embarrassed or excited about the fact that Peter Parker was in my bed with an arm wrapped around me. All I wanted to was to turn off my alarm and go back to bed, but my dad was picking me and Peter up in two hours and I wanted to bully Sam into making me pancakes again.

“Let go, Peter,” I ended up mumbling, “I have to turn the alarm off.” He moved his arm off and I sat up and grabbed my phone. “I’m getting breakfast.”

It must’ve been my lucky day, because Sam and Bucky were in the kitchen. “‘Morning, sunshine. Sleep okay?” I looked at Sam with a hard glare, and he laughed. Of course he knew Peter was with me, FRIDAY knows everything.

I sat next to Bucky and thought of fluffy pancakes to ward off my burning hatred for Captain America. “Sam, how much do you love me?”

“Depends on what you’re willing to give me in exchange for the pancakes.”

Of course he already knew my move. Typical.

“I’ll delete half of the embarrassing footage of you saved in FRIDAY’s hard-drive.”

Sam looked at Bucky suddenly, extremely confused. “I thought that was done months ago.”

He just shrugged and drank his coffee. “Must not’ve gone deep enough. Good thing Y/N is here to catch it.”

Sam glanced between the two of us and sighed. “Okay, fine, I’ll make you some stupid pancakes.”

I smiled, then Bucky slipped me ten dollars under the counter and whispered, “Save me the footage.” I winked back.

“Can I have some too?” Peter, soft as hell, came into the kitchen and sat beside me. (His knee was brushing up against mine.)

“Only if you have something to offer.” Sam liked us, I know he did (that’s part of the embarrassing footage FRIDAY has saved) but he was usually a dick to us - anyone who wasn’t Bucky (and even then) - in the morning. It was always playful banter, but we knew not to step too far before eleven o’clock.

“I promise not to test out my new long-lasting webs on anything you own.”

“Deal.”

The pancakes were delicious (“hell yeah they were, I don’t mess around with pancakes”) but my dad was at the compound before we knew it, and it was time to face reality again.

“I saw the press conference,” Dad said when we sat down in the back, “and everything was very convincing. Congrats on getting to be Spider-Man again, Peter.”

He beamed. “Thanks, Mr. Y/L/N. Anything exciting happen at the hospital recently?”

They talked medical, while I sat back and listened to the engine. It covered up their hearts, but that didn’t matter, because both would’ve sent me right back to sleep. And it did.

We pulled up to Peter’s complex an hour and a half later. There were still plenty of daylight hours left, but we both left more homework to today than we would like to admit and neither of our parental figures would be pleased with that.

“See you tomorrow,” he said with a smile.

I smiled back, genuinely, (I was giving those out way more often now) and waved. “Bye.” Dad and I drove back and walked up to the apartment bumping shoulders. Our schedules didn’t line up very often because he was needed in the ER a lot of the time, but we always had a sort of silent understanding. He unlocked the door and let me in first, but when my eyes landed on the kitchen table, I stopped mid-step.

Blood. Everywhere. On the walls, on the floor, on Mom’s floral couch she claimed “added personality” to the living room. No one else was in the apartment, I could tell, but then it just raised more questions:

Who’s blood is everywhere?

Where the hell is Mom?

tags: @eridanuswave​ @vampirestrawberries​ 

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker series #peter parker oneshot #marvel #marvel comics #reader insert #peter parker x mj #ned leeds #michelle jones #flash thompson #spiderman far from home #mcu #spiderman #avengers

[voidstilesplease]

in another life

part two

Stiles assures Theo answers for all of their questions -god knows they have so many- tomorrow. Theo's reluctant at first, doesn't intend to let go of Stiles's words hanging in between them: "You think she's alive?" Eventually, Theo nods, finding something in Stiles's eyes and placing his trust in him. An odd feeling of protectiveness settles in Stiles's stomach at the vulnerability that Theo freely displays - in the past, he used to act guarded like everyone was out to get him. Granted, Theo had conned most of them before with charm and fake tears, and it's not above him to try it again if Theo could gain something worthy from it. But Stiles doesn't feel the usual tingle in his bones when he meets some shady criminal mastermind. His instincts have gotten him this far, so he gives it credit.

Stiles sighs. Innocent until proven guilty. He hopes Deaton has answers that expose the truth.

In the meantime, they have saddled him with more responsibility: bringing Theo home with him. Theo refuses to be stuck with either Liam or Mason any longer, it is unwise to put Theo alone with Melissa, and stupid to leave him unattended. So Stiles is the only viable choice. Plus, Theo thinks they're together. It only makes sense. Maybe.

It probably won't to his dad initially, but hey, after a while of normalcy, even he will acknowledge the need for something to go down - even dressed as Theo Raeken.

•••

They're in Stiles's Jeep, driving home to the Stilinski's, and it is a little disconcerting how Theo seems to be accustomed to his car. Theo had seen and been in the Jeep before, but this is different. He's too comfortable in the cramped space, even knows how to operate Stiles's defective radio. And the way he leans against the seat on the passenger's side and knows where to keep the screwdriver Stiles uses to manipulate the ignition is boggling his head worse than the snow outside.

Stiles draws in a breath, glancing sideways to his quiet company. "So, um, Deaton," he says, "we're going to Dr. Deaton tomorrow."

Theo turns to him, frowning. "What kind of doctor? Are you taking me to a shrink? Babe, I'm not crazy. What happened is freaky, but you have to believe me."

Okay, the babe thing, they're going to have to iron that wrinkle as soon as possible. Not even Lydia called him babe when they dated, and certainly not Malia. It's a cosmic joke that the once bane of his existence gets to call him that first. "No, he's not a shrink," Stiles promises him. "He's a veterinarian. But he knows about these things."

Theo arches a brow, "He knows about teleportation?"

"Telepor-" Stiles creases his forehead, jerking his head to Theo. The latter is expectant when he looks back. Stiles blinks, disbelieving and a little horrified. There's also a small bubble of hysteria beginning to form in his stomach. Somehow, this takes the cake in the weirdness of the situation. Because, of course, Theo also doesn't remember he's a chimera, does he? Blowing a heavy breath, he turns back to the road. He rubs the side of his temple, where it's starting to hurt, and purses his lips. "Yeah, sure. Teleportation."

Silence hangs in between them for a moment, Stiles sighing when he takes the last turn to his street. He can feel the burn of Theo's stare at the side of his face.

"You really don't remember we're together?" Theo sounds genuinely small when he speaks. "Then why are you here, if not to take me home? The two -Liam and Mason- are accusing me of having amnesia. But it's you who can't remember."

Stiles opens his mouth, but he doesn't know what to say. He knows that if he tells Theo that he remembers an illusory life, it's only going to invite more questions Stiles has no answers yet. In honesty, he's still reeling until now, and he's too tired to consider diving into research mode immediately, much less form a cohesive plan other than to bring Theo to Deaton first. And the best thing for them both to do before then is rest. They can't do that if Stiles stays up all night convincing Theo that they're not even friends, that he was a lying, conniving chimera asshole that tried to break his pack once, before turning a new leaf and helping them, and then disappearing on them like a bubble one day. Oh, and yeah, that it's so twisted for him to think his sister was alive when he had allowed her to die when he was nine.

No. Rest, Deaton, and then fuck up some shit - Stiles is doing this in that order.

"Hm," is what he ends up saying. Stiles pulls in the driveway, noting the blue truck already parked there. He's relieved to find a change of topic. He clears his throat, pointing at the vehicle. "That's your truck. Corey, Mason's boyfriend, drove it here."

Theo doesn't look away from him for the entire minute it takes Stiles to turn the engine off and gather his belongings. When he looks at Theo, that's only when the other man lowers his head and breathes. Theo nods and gets out of the car, moving towards the truck. Stiles silently prays for more strength if this is how awkward it is going to be for the whole evening until the morning.

Theo is studying his blue truck, eyeing it with trepidation. Stiles slings his messenger bag and stands beside him. Theo turns to him, shaking his head. "This isn't my car."

Stiles moves to the bed of Theo's pickup. "It is," he tells Theo. 

Stiles is, unfortunately, familiar enough with this car, and not with pleasant memories. Stiles lifts the haphazardly strewn cloth covering most of the space of the truck bed and makes a noise of disgust with what he finds underneath. It was definitely tidier before.

Theo also peeks under the cloth and pulls his face in a similar reaction. An alarming amount of empty plastic noodle cups and take-out boxes litter the covered area. "It can't be mine because I'm not crazy for instant ramen."

Stiles drops the cloth and walks to the driver's seat. He cups his hands on either side of his eyes and looks inside through the window. He finds a folded blanket at the backseat and a pink sweater on top of the pile of clothes. The chimera wore the hell out of those, Stiles remembers grudgingly. Transferring his scrutiny on the passenger side, he sees empty water bottles and coke cans, and old receipts. What the hell has Theo been up to that he can't even throw his trash out or attempt to be less sloppy?

One thing is sure, though. The car is where Theo lives; the pizza in the backseat looks stale but not molded. He faces Theo and gives him a grim nod, "Let's discuss the condition of your car and your unhealthy lifestyle tomorrow, yeah?"

Theo huffs, wanting to protest and eyeing his car in disgust, but shrugs in agreement.

•••

His father is working the night shift, so explaining Theo is a problem for future Stiles, which makes him sag in relief under the hot spray of his shower. When he's finished, he changes into clean sweatpants and an old Christmas ugly sweater and goes back to his room.

Theo is already sitting on his temporary bed on the floor. Stiles refuses to make him sleep on the couch where the kitchen and knives are near. At least, inside his room, he can fight him should Theo attempt anything at all. Stiles has gotten better at hand-to-hand combat since the FBI, and also a very light sleeper and sometimes prone to insomnia, especially on stressful occasions like this. Any minor shuffling from Theo will alert him. Not that he thinks Theo will do anything. His impulses tell him that Theo's memory dilemma is not made-up, and he's truthful this time, but it's always better to be safe than sorry.

Theo looks up when he enters, offering a small smile. Stiles's eyes catch sight of the outline of a necklace hidden underneath the collar of Theo's borrowed shirt. Stiles's clothes look a bit tight on him but otherwise, more comfortable than the dirty jeans he was wearing earlier. 

"It's so weird to see your old bed," Theo says, looking at the said bed. "Noah brought you a bigger one so that we can share when we visit. I wonder what happened to it?"

Stiles drops onto his bed with a small bounce. He didn't expect that. "Oh, um,"

Theo meets his eyes, "And Roscoe," a shadow crosses his face. "You took down all of the polaroid pictures we put of us. You even replaced the screwdriver that I gave you with an old one."

He sounds so betrayed that Stiles is stunned by what he's hearing. What startles him most, though, is: "You know my Jeep's name?"

At this question, Theo looks downright affronted. But Stiles has every reason to be surprised. His mom, his dad, and Scott are the only people apart from him who knows his Jeep's name -not another soul. Not even Lydia.

"Of course, I know your Jeep's name," Theo responds with a deepening scowl. "We've been together for four years, Stiles."

Stiles raises a hand to halt Theo as his cogs turn in his head. A swell of panic takes root in him. This memory thing is more serious than he initially thought. Theo's not only hallucinating a different life but he also somehow knows things he shouldn't. The screwdriver compartment, his broken radio, his Jeep's name -what else does he know that he isn't supposed to?

"Okay," Stiles finally says, lowering his hand and barrier from Theo, who's still glowering. It seems he has lost his patience with Stiles, as well. If this continues, Stiles might snap, too. So he says as appeasing as he could. "Let's say that whatever happened to you affected our memories of each other. But we'll go to Dr. Deaton for answers tomorrow, and then we can go back to our normal lives. Yes? Do you trust me?"

As soon as he says it, Stiles wants to take it back. It seems like a strange concept to ask Theo, of all people, to trust Stiles after everything. As crazy as Stiles actually trusting Theo. But here they are.

Theo doesn't reply for a long time, but he looks pensive and considering as he glares. In the end, he huffs in surrender, shoulders drooping in defeat. For the first time, the bags under his eyes become more prominent in his features. He looks so weary, hurt, and confused. Stiles is well acquainted with that look. It's the look of someone who hasn't been sleeping well. With the state of Theo's truck, Stiles has no problem picturing the man twist-and-turning to find a good position and not finding any.

Theo dips his head, replying with a rough voice, "Yeah. I trust you."

Before Stiles can say any more, Theo gives him his back and reclines on his mattress. He pulls the covers on himself, like a shield, and mumbles good night to Stiles.

Sighing, Stiles turns the desk lamp off and lays on his bed, staring at the ceiling for who knows how long. After a while, he exhales and rubs the bridge of his nose. His body is exhausted, and so is his mind, but they're not shutting off like they're supposed to. He almost wishes he is back in his dorm room in Virginia, staying up to piece the puzzles of a case. He has dealt with mundane human crises for so long that coaxing the supernatural mojo back appears to be an impossibly draining affair.

When he glances back at Theo on the floor, he pauses as he notices it. There's a blank inked mark on Theo's nape: a tattoo that Stiles knows for sure he didn't have the last time they saw each other. He turns to his side to look closely at it.

The tattoo is of a circle interlaced with three interconnected ovals. It reminds him closely of Derek's triskelion tattoo. But unlike Derek's, Theo's mark gives him an ominous feeling.

Because Stiles is sure, it isn't an optical illusion when it glowed in the darkness of his room for a second.

~•~

#steo #steo fic #steo ficlet #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #stiles x theo #parallel universe au #in another life #part 2 #fics tag #well the christmas prompts may have been lost #lmao #but well I guess I'll just continue with this #omg this is going to be a disaster fic #i can just feel it lmao

[minhoseok]

Infiltration Yandere!YangYang

pairing: yangyang x reader (fem)

description: yangyang got himself into a mental ward because of you. you decide to pay a visit to see why he would put his life aside for someone like you. you end up finding out more than that.

Warnings : its yandere, so its going to be toxic, gore-ish and unhealthy. this is purely fiction and does not represent the members or Yangyang in any way

based on the wayv teaser : 10110

Blood stained nails tapped against the brick wall, head banging against it for what seemed like the hundredth time today, Yangyang was at it again. Everyday it was the same thing, he woke up, ate barely enough, self loathed, then yearned for y/n. This was how it had been for the past year.

Audible footsteps approached his cell as he dragged his nails up against the worn out brick, eyes peering up the slightest. Muffled voices could be heard from the inner walls of the cell. The gruff voices of the body guards and a female voice could be heard. Hearing the locks free he finally looks up.

Yangyang grins as he tries to stand up from his bed, crammed in the corner of the room. Walking towards the two figures at the door going as far forward as he could with the restraints on his ankles. 

Y/n stepped back with caution, picking at the skin around her fingers, causing them to bleed as she tried to calm herself down. She’d been requested to come by the mental hospital by Yangyang himself, ever since he had first ended up there. 

“Y/n...” his throat rough and dry due to his refusal to drink anything. Eyes study her through his overgrown bangs. Red stained hands reach out to feel her face as she gets pulled back by one of the guards.

“Don’t push it” he uttered to the shorter boy. He glared at the taller individual.

Y/n got the hint that he was obviously uncomfortable around him due to the thick tension in the room. “You guys can leave, I’ll be ok” y/n voiced out quietly. Directing her eyes away from the young boys stare, trained on her

Nodding in agreement the two guards left the room. Only to stand outside, in case things got out of hand.

“Y/n you’re here? Why?” He teased, taunting her, hoping to drive her as mad as she drove him.

“They said you wanted to talk, and I” she paused “ and I wanted answers” she said looking him in the eye, emotionless. 

She stood a good distance away from him. Close to the door., way too far for him to even get close.

“Ahh I see, so you didn’t visit because you missed me?” a small frown was visible yet you could see the smugness that lurked behind it. 

“Look, why did you follow me, stalk me? Kill all those people?”

He purses his lips, ruffling his rough, matted hair. “Very straight forward I see? I’ll give you an answer similar to that too. They touched you. Something that was mine. They don’t deserve to live” he basically sang out. grin playing at his lips once again as he remembered the way he ruined them slowly, how he was successful in protecting what was his. 

He was snapped out of his daze when he thought about the stupid cell he was forced into. They took her away from him. He couldn’t protect his love anymore when he was chained to the wall, too distant from his precious y/n.

She suddenly took steps closer. Curious to see how far he’d go. He shuffled closer until his restraints were tight, skin around his bare feet were burning and slowly ripping the skin apart.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” she watched in horror and disgust while closely observing him. He looked up at her with eyes that could pierce through you and huffed “because I love you sweetie” he tried to move even closer to her, bolts bearing the restraints, on the brink of falling off. He knew how close he was to getting her. He just had to figure out how to get out without anyone ruining his plans.

“Look, I don’t know who you are, but you stalked me for a good year, killed a bunch of people cause apparently they messed with me and now you’ve ended up here in this hell because you wasted your time on a lowlife like me.” She turned to leave before the tears fell. 

“You’re not a waste” his jaw clenched at the thought of her thinking so lowly of herself. She deserves the world. Only I deserve her. Before she could leave, one final tug of his leg broke the chain.

In panic of hearing the burst, she turned around only to see Yangyang towering over her. Engulfing her in a hug. 

“Please don’t leave me, not again”

Fear struck. Not knowing what to do she froze. Letting him enclose her into his arms. He held her tightly, pushing her head against his chest while raking bloody fingers through her hair. Her smaller frame having no chance against him despite him having such low energy and power. 

Adrenaline suddenly rushing through her blood. She shoved him back with all her might. Even if it didn’t do much. She fumbled with the emergency button they handed her and pressed the button in a heartbeat. 

Deafening sirens blasted and rang throughout the room. The door bursting open with at least 5 people ready to move. The two body guards from earlier were the first to go in. 

Yangyang, still dazed from the sudden outburst from you, was still surprised and stood on the other side of the room, being restrained down to the floor. Weakly struggling against their strong hold. The other 3 finally walked in when they deemed it was safe.

You had only noticed in their hands was a shiny syringe, ready to put into action. You glanced at the boy who was yielding and thrashing. He looked up with sincere eyes, suddenly bursting out with laughter, the psychopathic side of him shining right through. Just before the nurses inject him with the drug. Before you know it. He was out.

-----

Y/n drove home in silence, the radio wasn't on as usual, ever since she saw Yangyang she hadn’t felt like herself. Her hands clenched the wheel as she stopped at the red light, knuckles turning white as she got caught up in her thoughts.

‘So that’s who was following me? A psychopath who claims to love me?’ She was shoved out of her train of thought when she heard a honk behind her; signaling the green light. She continued to drive home. Still weary of her surroundings, she still couldn’t get the thought out of her head. Had she really been the cause of countless deaths?

-

“Hello?” Y/n hurriedly spoke into the phone. Picking it up the second she had heard the call not caring for the caller ID

“Hey y/n we know you only came a few days ago but we need you here as soon as possible”

She recognised the voice, it was the head chief that had requested you go see Yangyang.

“ Hey um is everything ok?” she spoke leg bouncing as she tried to keep herself from panicking. What had gone wrong during the 3 days she was away?

“I think it's best if you come see for yourself”

“I'll be there in 30 minutes”

-

Y/n pulled up in the familiar parking lot of the large, barricaded building. She stepped out of her car and walked to the gate, to be greeted by two guards who stopped her before entering. One of them handed a mask to her, then stepped aside, opening the doors. 

She found herself walking down the walkway that held foul memories, finding it hard to breathe she drank some water she brought with her.

“Ah y/n nice to see you” acknowledged Jaimson, the head officer. He then gestures for her to follow him down another hallway, leading up to the cell where she had met YangYang.

“I want you to talk to him, ask him the remaining questions we prompted you to last time. He’s gone a bit more mad than when you last saw him. If the light starts flashing blue I want you to put in the mask and move as close to the door as you can until someone gets you out. If he acts up we’re going to knock him out with some gas so make sure your mask is fixed on properly if it comes to that ok?”

Y/n nods her head, feeling drowsy, stomach churning in fear.

The iron door opened, and once again she felt so small, helpless.

She felt his eyes on her, head hung low, she quivered.

When she finally looked up the room was unrecognizable. Marks all over the room in assortments of colours, resembling those alleyways full of graffiti.

This time Yangyang was restrained to a chair behind a table. He looked through his overgrown bangs and glanced at the empty seat across him. Inviting her to sit. 

Clutching the mask in her hand to her chest she decided to finally sit. Yangyang let out a low chuckle. 

“Why” was all that y/n could utter out. Barely audible but yangyang heard it loud and clear. 

“Because my love” he took a breath in, glanced around the room, then fixing his eyes on hers. “They touched you, disgusting imbeciles like them don’t deserve to live” he simply said, not phasing his calm yet eerie demeanor one bit.

Y/n took a breath in, unsure what to say in response.

“Well what’s so good about me then?” She suddenly came up with “what makes me any different than them?”

“You?” He suddenly tried to stand up though the chains keeping him seated, hands rigid against the cuffs 

“You are a gift from the gods y/n, never and when I say never I mean it. Never compare yourself to those scums.”

“Well what makes you any better than them?”

That’s when he snapped. Struggling against his restraints, he was furious. “YOU! I’m here to protect you. I’m here to keep those idiots away to protect you.”

He calmed down and slowly sat back down and chuckled again.

“Isn’t that what love is about darling?” He cocked his head, a sinister grin forming.

“That isn’t love. You’re fucking crazy” her newfound confidence taking over her.

“Isn’t that what they say? Love makes you crazy doesn’t it?” Flashing his pearly whites.

“You’re obsessed” she blankly stared, all emotion leaving her.

She got up and left the room. His laugh ringing through the room, haunting her as she silently dragged herself out. 

-

“Hey Y/n how are you?” Rang through her phone, her friend Cherlyn was on call while y/n was getting ready to sleep after the long day.

“I’m alright, you?” She tied her hair up, ready to wash her face.

After chatting for a while, Cheryln brings up something unforgettable.

“Did you hear the news?”

“What news?”

“Yangyang escaped”

-

Days passed,though it felt like years , y/n was too scared to leave her house, yet she felt her house was also the most dangerous place to be. He knew where she lived. He knew everything about her.

Driving back from a quick grocery errand she zoomed through the breeze, it had been days since she left her house, lack of food forcing her to get out. She made some rules for herself. If she has to get out of the house she has to leave while the sun is up and she has to bring her pepper spray and pocket knife. Not that they’d help much over an overly obsessed psychopath of a stalker that’s killed.

After parking her car and warily taking her groceries out she got ready to sprint up 3 flights of stairs without encountering anyone and dropping anything.

Running up wasn’t a problem for her. The problem was she has a whole carton of eggs and a bottle of milk she had to carry up without turning it into an omelet.

-

Finally reaching her door to her apartment she reached for her keys to unlock the door. Noticing her door was slightly ajar. “I could have sworn I locked my door” she mumbled under her breath. 

Pushing the door open she was wary of her surroundings, looking around to see if anything was out of place. Given the state she was in she decided she must’ve accidentally left the door unlocked, pushing herself to remember not to do it next time. 

Putting her groceries down she went to lock her door, noticing that she didn’t forget to lock it, but her lock had been picked at and basically destroyed. 

Her heart dropped. Frantically looking around her house she came across her photos of her friends, photo frames shattered on the floor, marker drawn all over it. The shelf of photos was replaced with new photos. Photos of her when she thought she was alone, undressing, even in the shower.  

Her face showed a mix of fear and disgust. Running to her room she got one of her baseball bats from when she used to play in highschool. She backed out of her room, clutching the bat in her hand, phone in the other. She looked around for possible threats. She decided to check all the other rooms. Checking her bathroom last, she shrieked. In her bathtub was a very much dead cherlyn and written on the mirror in what seems like her blood ‘TOLD YOU I’D PROTECT YOU’

Y/n look in the mirror once more seeing a masked shadow behind her, the same one she had prayed to never see again. 

“Goodnight baby” the voice whispered as the cloth was held against her, knocking her out

-

 The room was semi dark, an uncomfortable atmosphere surrounding her semi conscious body, tied to a chair. Towered in front of her was the person she feared most. The bright light suddenly illuminated the small basement. He touched her cheek softly, embracing the warmth he never got. The one he sacrificed everything for. “So beautiful,” he said, studying her features from up close, even in the state she was in she still looked like a goddess to him.

Eyes fluttering open she tried to rub her eyes, noticing the unusual restraint and uncomfortably dark light. She tried to call for help, not noticing the cloth tied to her mouth, drenched with her saliva. 

Once she got used to the harsh light she saw him. Standing in front of her, a bright smile on his face, like a kid waking up on christmas day. y/n instinctively tried to move back, however unable to. Limbs carefully tied to the chair, held her down very well. Attempting to yell at him through the cloth she tried to wriggle her way out of the restraints. 

‘Maybe if i pretend im hurt he’ll let me go?’ she thought to herself. 

“Shh sweetheart don't scream, i won't hurt you, well unless you make me” he giggled to himself. “Look I’ll make a deal with you, I’ll take the gag off if you promise me you won't scream ok? If you don't try anything I’ll give you some water, maybe I’ll even let you talk to me.” he cooed

She nodded, eyes pleading in hope to win him over.

He smiled at her submissiveness and squatted down to her level. “Good girl” he was glad that he wouldn't have to use force to get her to listen.

Untying the gag he looked her in the eye, his adoration visible. Once the gag was off she took a deep breath. Worried what he would do with her now.

“W-why d-did you do this t-to me’ y/n croaked.

‘Baby u dont needa stutter with me’ he says, still caressing her cheek. She flinches away from his touch making yangyang frown. “C’mon y/n you know i wouldn't hurt you if my life depended on it. Well, unless you try to escape or make me jealous. Other than that you basically have me wrapped around your finger. I’d do anything for you.”

“Yangyang i-” she started to  cough “water, please” she whispered.

“Oh right, i'll be back in a minute. Don't try to escape. Or else” she nodded quickly, a small ‘ok’ leaving her lips. He hesitantly walked towards the door and went to get some water. 

Once she was sure he left by craning her neck she then pulled out the pocket knife she swore to keep with her all the time and cut the ropes around her wrist carefully, then smoothly slid out the ropes. Bending down she cuts off the ropes that tie her legs to the chair and slowly stands up, praying to not make any noise.

She got ready to get out or at least hide from him when she was interrupted with him standing at the doorway with a glass of warm water, and a very unhappy look.

“What did i tell you about escaping y/n? ” he frowned “I trusted you!”  Yangyang slowly losing his patience, getting angrier by the second.

Backing her up into a corner she started to panic. At this point she was just bracing herself for the pain. Tears flowing down her face. 

“ Please don't cry, i know you’re scared and confused, so I’ll let you slip this time ok? Next time I won't be as forgiving and you’ll be punished,” attempting to calm her down he kept his distance, he handed her the glass of water he had originally come to give her.

Suspicious of the water he just held it in her shaky hands. Noticing her hesitation, Yangyang sighed. “look i didn't put anything in it”  he took the cup out of her hands and took a sip and made sure she saw he swallowed it “see?’. She hesitantly takes it back and chugs it all down

“Better?” he asked

“Yes. Thank you yangyang” the last part coming out as a soft whisper

“What did you say?”

“Thank you Yangyang”

“Good girl”

(a/n: it was originally longer than this but it got messy so i might post the remaining bit if you guys want)

#nct #nct yandere #yandere nct #wayv #nct yangyang #wayv yangyang #wayv yandere #wayvyandere #yangyangyandere #nctyangyang #nctsmut #wayv smut #yandere #yandere wayv #liu yangyang #yangyang

[lady-divine-writes]

A Change in the Weather AU (inspired by Cacophonylights's A Change in the Weather) - Chapter 33

Notes: I have some good news and some good news! I am sorry that this chapter is up late, and looks smaller than I claimed it would be. But that's because it's half of the original chapter! This chapter ended up being over 12k words long, and very heavy (emotionally) in some parts. Also, it went through an extensive re-write because some parts bothered me. But I feel that it is completely fixed and 1000 percent better. And the best part is, there will be a second chapter up today in a few hours! And after that, only one chapter left. So, as always, thank you all so much for following me on this crazy race to the finish. I hope you enjoy what I've written. Please be aware that in this chapter, Kurt and Sebastian talk a little more about his sexual assault so be warned. There's nothing graphic, but it still could be triggering.

Read on AO3.

It takes forty-seven minutes for the tow truck to arrive, and it’s by no means a run-of-the-mill flatbed tow truck like the one Kurt’s father owns.

No, the tow truck that pulls up to chauffeur Julian’s precious Jag home is a fully-equipped repair shop on wheels - a temperature controlled box truck with the name of the company (aptly called Luxury Tow) stenciled along the gleaming white outside in elaborate calligraphy, the script such a pale shade of silver, you wouldn’t see it at all if you weren’t looking for it. Kurt knows about these trucks. They’ve become something of a novelty among luxury car dealers and owners, the thought process being that no one should ever see a luxury car on the bed of a tow truck, and never, ever dragged on the asphalt.

Not for the preservation of the brand. His father has towed luxury cars on his flatbed just fine.

It’s for the preservation of the owners’ ego.

Emotional exhaustion is making Kurt catty on that point because the reality is it protects the overall investment that is an eighty-thousand plus dollar car. There’s less of a chance of getting your vehicle dinged up or expensive paint jobs scratched if they’re safe inside another larger vehicle.

The chandelier hanging from the top inside of the truck, however, Kurt can safely say might be a tad much.

Sebastian refuses to let go of Kurt while the drivers load up Julian’s car, but he is kind enough to re-position so that Kurt can get a better view of the inside. The tow truck is ridiculous, to be honest, and Sebastian acknowledges that with a sheepish grin, but their family has a membership, he explains, so it’s the only tow company they use.

Besides, it’s the height of excess, therefore it suits Julian and his car.

Kurt forgets how over-the-top rich people can be, seeing as, outside of Dalton, the only truly wealthy people he knows exist inside the spreads of magazines.

Sometimes he forgets just how frickin’ rich the Smythe family is, too, considering Sebastian didn’t even bat an eye when this truck appeared.

As to why the name of the company sans contact information is printed along the side in paint so light no one in the universe would ever be able to see it?

“They don’t need to advertise,” Sebastian says. “If someone can afford to hire them, then they’ll have their number already.”

Ouch.

Kurt doesn’t know why, but when Sebastian explains that to him, he feels like he’s been insulted.

After they see the drivers off, Kurt and Sebastian collect Julian from his booth by the window and lay him out on the backseat of Sebastian’s Mustang. Julian mumbles sleepily about the leather reeking of sex before he collapses on his face and starts snoring.

The drive from The Draft Room to the Smythe estate is another quiet one, with Kurt and Sebastian’s fingers laced together over the gear shift and Paganini’s Caprice No. 24 playing over the car’s speakers. To Kurt, even as a low hum, it’s an anxiety inducing piece, but the fast runs and rapid tempo help keep his mind from wandering. He wants to be available for Sebastian should Sebastian need to talk. Though what Sebastian feels comfortable revealing with his brother in the back seat, even asleep, Kurt isn’t certain.

As it turns out - he reveals nothing.

The tow truck is waiting at the gates of the estate when they arrive. Sebastian lets them in and leads them to the family garage. What follows is a blur of shuffling cars and signing paperwork. Sebastian sees the tow truck drivers off, then he and Kurt gather Julian up once again, help him to his room, and put him to bed, similar to the way Sebastian did for Kurt after the gala.

This must be why Sebastian was so good at it.

He’s had practice.

Sebastian’s phone buzzes, vibrating his pocket. He pulls it out, looks at the screen, and frowns.

“Who is it?” Kurt asks in the middle of removing Julian’s shoes.

“It’s Olivia.” Sebastian stares long at his boyfriend undressing his brother, in his bed of all places. Kurt reads the discomfort on Sebastian’s face. He stops at Julian’s shoes, pulling a blanket over the rest of his clothed body, and Sebastian seems to relax. “I should really …”

“Go on and take it,” Kurt says. “Give her my love. I’ve got this. I’ll be with you in a second.”

Sebastian doesn’t seem too ecstatic about leaving his boyfriend in a bedroom alone with his brother, but he steps out into the hallway anyway, shutting the door till only a sliver remains.

Kurt pulls the blanket up to Julian’s neck and smooths it over his shoulders. He fetches a waste basket from the bathroom and sets it next to the bed just in case. Kurt isn’t sure how much Julian actually drank before they got there, doesn’t know how well the man handles his alcohol.

Or if there was only alcohol involved in his pity party.

Kurt stops a second before turning out the light to steal a glance at Julian’s room. He’s been in here a few times, done an investigative sweep. As with Sebastian’s room, when he first came in here, he didn’t know what to expect. Probably the same thing he’d expected of Sebastian’s room. But the reality is more startling than what it could have been because Julian’s room is so similar to Sebastian’s room, they could have belonged to the same person at different points in their life. They have different furniture - Julian’s is a golden, honey wood as opposed to Sebastian’s dark. But they both have walls covered in photographs and art, shelves filled with CDs and books galore.

The thing that strikes Kurt as most interesting is that Julian has posters of obscure French bands framed on his walls that Kurt would think he’d see in Sebastian’s room, too, since Sebastian has t-shirts for one or two of them. Which makes their absence significant in Kurt’s mind.

Just another mystery for Kurt to puzzle through when he gets the time.

Kurt’s eyes pave a path across the walls, then back to Julian passed out on the bed. He sighs. Things could have been different, he thinks. He doesn’t know how different. He doesn’t know how much of Julian’s actions had an effect on which part of Sebastian’s decision making, but it still stands.

Things could have been different. They should have been different.

Kurt switches off the lamp, intent on leaving, but Julian’s hand locked lightly around his wrist stops him. Julian looks a mess - creases from his jacket imprinted on ruddy cheeks where he laid against his sleeves; eyes shimmering from a steady leak of tears; his lips swollen from biting.

A certifiable mess, but a breathtaking one.

“I know what you probably think of me,” Julian starts in a calloused voice. “Knowing what you know now.”

“I don’t think you do,” Kurt says soothingly, carefully removing his wrist from Julian’s grasp and tucking his arm back beneath the blanket.

“I just want you to know … I had no intention of taking you away from him. I know how I come across but that’s … that’s not what I was ever trying to do. I wasn’t going to let history repeat itself …” Julian’s disarming smile returns for the fleetest of seconds “… no matter how pretty you are.”

“Thank you. That’s good to know.”

“The two of you belong together.” Julian rolls to his side, gathering the edge of the blanket and holding it tight under his chin. “I knew it from the first time (*yawn*) I heard Sebby mention you.”

“And when was that?” Kurt asks, not sure what he expects to hear. Sebastian told his brother about their ruse, so Julian should know that any tale Sebastian told him is a work of fiction, not fact.

“Don’t remember,” Julian mumbles. “Dad asked Sebby what you did that won him over, and he said …” He stops, literally can’t continue past a sudden bout of snickering.

“What?” Kurt asks, burning with curiosity.

“... that you said …”

“What!?” Kurt groans, eager to get this over with so he can get back to Sebastian.

“... he smelled like Craigslist.” Julian snorts. It’s such an obscene sound, Kurt laughs out loud, and not politely. It’s not until Julian’s breathing begins to even out that Kurt realizes what he said.  

Smells like Craigsllist? But that was …? Could he really …? No, that can’t …

When Kurt first met Sebastian’s father, he’d said they’d heard so much about him. He’d never ventured to ask how much. Maybe he should get around to that one of these days.

Now seems a good time.

“Wait … what? Julian? What did you just say? Julian?”

Kurt comes close to shaking him to get him to answer, but he doesn’t. Before Kurt can press him for more, he’s fast asleep.

***

Sebastian isn’t waiting in the hallway when Kurt finishes in Julian’s room. He’d taken Olivia’s phone call into his room and started getting ready for bed. Shoes had been kicked off and socks flung aside. He was in the middle of slipping on a pair of sweatpants when Kurt heard him say goodbye with the added, “Kurt sends his love,” followed by a, “yes, I’ll tell him. I already said I would. Geez.”

“Tell me what?” Kurt asks, letting himself in the open door.

“Just that she misses you,” Sebastian relays, turning off his phone.

“That’s nice,” Kurt says, honestly beaming. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Sebastian walks over to his desk and deposits his phone on the blotter. “They wanted to make sure we’re all good, that we have everything we need, that sort of thing. Like I’ve never spent the night alone in my own house before. How about Julian?”

“Sleeping it off.”

“Good. He could use it.” Sebastian meanders around his room, mindlessly relocating books and papers from one place to another with seemingly no purpose. “I laid out some clothes for you to sleep in.” He walks over to his bed and sits down beside a pile of carefully folded pants-shirt-underwear.

“Thanks.” Kurt removes his shirt, then his pants. No longer does he scurry to the bathroom to change. He has nothing to hide from Sebastian now.

He hopes Sebastian feels the same.

“Are you tired?” Sebastian asks like he’s feeling Kurt out. “Do you want to go to sleep?”

“I’m kind of wired, to tell you the truth.”

The look on Sebastian’s face becomes tentatively brighter, like that was what he was hoping Kurt would say. “Do you mind … can we talk?”

Dressed in Sebastian’s clothes, Kurt drops down on the mattress across from him. “Sure. What did you feel like talking about?”

“Can I talk to you about … that night?” Sebastian asks, that smallness from outside the bar returning, mostly to his eyes that aren’t begging Kurt to say yes. They’re begging Kurt not to reject him, which is a wholly different thing, but one Kurt understands.

He did the same himself, every time he was on the cusp of telling his father he was gay, praying that his father wouldn’t stop loving him.

“Not all of it. I’m not … I’m not ready for that yet. And tonight’s been kind of …”

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees without Sebastian needing to finish.

“No one outside my family knows about it,” Sebastian says. “I mean, aside from my therapist. And I love my parents and Olivia to death, but when it comes to this, they’re difficult to talk to. They offer, say they’re open to listening, but when I do open up to them, I get the feeling that they don’t so much want to discuss what I went through and how I feel about it, how it affects me to this day, as they hope if I get it out of my system, I’ll forget it. And I understand that. It has to be torture knowing that something like …” Sebastian’s teeth grind to a halt around the words. In the end, he simply omits them “… that happened to one of your children and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Especially considering the circumstances. I mean, when you think about it, I should have been in the best possible hands.” Sebastian shrugs to himself. “To be … to be honest … the assault wasn’t the worst part of the experience. It was terrifying. It gives me nightmares. But … but it’s been the easiest part of that night to work through.”

Kurt tilts his head. “How?”

“It’s the uncomplicated part. The guy who …” Another grinding halt “… he was an asshole. A sick, disgusting, drunk asshole. It helps that he was a stranger, if that makes sense. There was no personal motive behind what he did. It was more a matter of I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. An easy target.”

“Whatever happened to him?” Kurt asks, careful not to make it sound like a demand. He doesn’t want Sebastian thinking he has to answer his questions simply because he asks them.

“Julian wouldn’t let him leave the bathroom. He got a few punches in. Good ones,” Sebastian recalls with a vindictive chuckle that almost sounds proud. “Knocked him out cold. He called the cops and the guy was arrested. But things didn’t go back to normal after that. Nowhere near it. I was afraid of running into him for a while even though I knew I wouldn’t. It became so unbearable, I wouldn’t go out, couldn’t sleep nights. But then I left the country, and for the first time, I wasn’t looking for him in crowds or around corners, anything like that. Because I knew he wouldn’t be there.” Sebastian pauses, looks down at his hands, running the pads of his fingers over his nails, pushing at his cuticles while he gets his thoughts together. “I wasn’t planning on coming back.”

“So … what was the worst part about that night? If you don’t mind …”

“I don’t mind,” Sebastian says softly. Another long pause, but Kurt is willing to wait as long as it takes. When Sebastian finds the strength to look up again, he’s shaking his head, his cheeks wet with tears. “H-how could he do that to me, Kurt?”

“Who?” Kurt more than assumes Sebastian is talking about the man who assaulted him, but it’s never a good practice to assume.

And this time, he’s right not to.

“Julian,” Sebastian says, his voice cracking. “I look back at that night now through jaded eyes and I see it for what it was, what I felt. I had a crush. Just a crush. Not having that guy obviously didn’t destroy me, right? But at the time, it felt like it would. It felt like my entire life was …”

“Over?”

“Yeah.” Sebastian sniffles. “I wasn’t a bad brother, Kurt. Maybe I was a little annoying but I looked up to him. I idolized him. I wanted to be like him.” Sebastian reaches blindly for a tissue from the box by the head of his bed. Kurt gets up and gets it for him. Sebastian takes it with an unspoken thank you. “I guess … in the end … that’s what I did, huh? I became my brother. None of the interesting parts, though,” he adds with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Just the asshole parts.”

Kurt doesn’t know what to say. He could prepare for weeks and still not know what to say. Part of him wants to storm down to Julian’s room and slug him in the face. But Sebastian forgave him. Julian said that when he found Sebastian, Sebastian got in a few punches and then said he wanted his big brother back. There are times when this rift between them seems as far from water under the bridge as they can get. But this all happened long before Kurt even knew the Smythes existed so he should forgive Julian, too. And Kurt can.  

But how does Sebastian do it? How do you forget about something like that? All of it? The violation of your body coupled by the betrayal of someone you love? Someone you trust? Kurt knows a little of what that’s like, but he’s not going to pretend that it even compares to what Sebastian went through.

Sebastian sniffles again, blows his nose. He reaches for another tissue but somewhere in between he falters. The tension that’s been hanging around them, binding them together with brittle arms, collapses. Sebastian is the first through the breach. He falls into Kurt’s lap, arms winding around his waist, sobbing into his borrowed white shirt. And since Kurt can’t think of the right thing to say to comfort him, he says what’s in his heart, and hopes that it’s enough.

“I love you, Sebastian,” Kurt whispers, wrapping his arms around Sebastian’s head and leaning over to press kisses into his hair. “I love you. I love you so damn much, and I’m so lucky to have you. I’m yours, and you’re mine. And please …” Kurt chokes on words and tears and a thicket of emotions, but he refuses to let that stop him from saying what he needs to say “… I’m here … and don’t ever forget that.”

***

“So, where do you want to go for lunch after we visit my dad?” Kurt asks, scrolling though dining options on his phone. Kurt doesn’t usually do much in the way of eating out in Lima. With the exception of The Lima Bean and Breadstix, he pretty much avoids Lima, Ohio cuisine like the plague. His father, however, is a huge fan of Lock Sixteen Steakhouse, and Finn and Puck swear by Sir La Charreada. Of course, the top three items on any of their menus are meat, cheese, and some kind of meat bathed in cheese.

The fact that Kurt knows this comes as a side-effect from spending too much time around junk food addicts.

“I don’t know. What is there around here?”

Kurt rolls his head to the left and shoots Sebastian an incredulous look. “Sebastian, this is Lima. It’s a town named after a bean. And not even one of the good ones.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s named after Lima, Peru.”

Kurt side-eyes him, wondering how in the hell he would know that!? He doesn’t even live here! What? While he was collecting blackmail material on him and all his friends, was he digging up dirt on the city Kurt lived in, too?

“Shares a name with, then.”

Sebastian nods. “I see your point.”

“We can swing by Columbus and pick up some sushi. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten any ice water poured in my crotch.”

“Ha-ha,” Sebastian deadpans, though he smiles when Kurt starts laughing and can’t stop. “Just for that, I’m gonna …” Sebastian’s sentence dies on his lips, his expression freezing solid on his face.

“What … what’s wrong?” Kurt follows Sebastian’s eye line out the window towards his house, expecting to see yellow caution tape and an ambulance parked outside since that’s exactly the look Sebastian is wearing. Constantly on edge about his father’s health, it’s the first thing that comes to Kurt’s mind that could put that look on Sebastian’s face.

Sebastian heads for the curb, and immediately Kurt’s own expression goes from afraid to angry.

“What in gay hell …?”

Sitting on Kurt’s front porch is, of all people, Cooper Anderson. And beside him, curled into a ball, hugging his knees …

… Blaine.

Sebastian parks his Mustang in front of Kurt’s house and kills the engine.

Kurt thinks he should feel an overwhelming tide of emotion seeing him. That it should knock him back about twenty feet, transport him through time to a place where he swore he would always love Blaine, where nothing would change that. But what he feels when he lays eyes on him for the first time since the beginning of summer is barely a swell. The boy who used to be perfection by Kurt’s standards is riddled with flaws. Kurt finds himself comparing Blaine to Sebastian the way he used to compare Sebastian to Blaine, but this time Blaine is the one who doesn’t measure up.

“Hey guys!” Cooper greets them as they climb out of the car. “Nice to see you both again.”

“Why are you two here?” Sebastian asks, barreling towards them, taking the lead. And Kurt lets him have it. He has every right to read Cooper for filth and  besides, Kurt has forgotten how to make his voice work.

“I got a hold of Olivia. She said you guys were heading to Ohio so we took a chance and came here.”

“So you … just … showed up at my boyfriend’s house and took a chance that we’d stop by?”

Cooper winces at that, as if he was hoping that the subject of Kurt being Sebastian’s boyfriend might conveniently not come up. “Yes? Your dad’s not home, Kurt, but I was going to call if we waited longer than an hour.”

“And you don’t think that plan is a little insane?” Sebastian asks.

Cooper sighs. It almost competes with the sound Sebastian made when he realized Julian was driving back to Westerville and they’d have to follow. “It’s been a long couple of days.”

“Really?” Sebastian says sarcastically. “Why don’t you tell it to someone who cares?”

“I’m sensing a little animosity here. “

“No, you’re sensing a lot of animosity!”

“Look, kid, we’re just here to talk.”

“What happened to you, man? Why would you ghost my brother like that?”

“I wasn’t ghosting him!” Cooper suddenly sounds desperate, like he needs to convince Sebastian he’s telling the truth. Like he needs him on his side, which makes Kurt wonder what, if anything, Olivia said to him. If she read him the riot act, Kurt is going to buy her roses. “I was getting ready to go out there but Blaine called me, said he …” Cooper glances down at his brother, still motionless on the porch “… said he wanted to come home, that he couldn’t get a flight out and was hitchhiking. He’s my brother! What was I supposed to do?”

“Why couldn’t you give him a head’s up? Give anyone a head’s up?” Sebastian’s voice gets louder as he talks till Kurt begins to fear a neighbor might peek a head out, call the police. “He was waiting for you! You just disappeared! You didn’t even send him a text! Why couldn’t you send him a fucking text!?”

“It’s not that simple!”

“Save it!”

“I panicked, alright!? I thought that if I told Julian the truth, he would think I was making excuses, that I was going back on my word. And if I told Emily, my dad would find out. I didn’t know what to do!”

“So you did nothing.” Sebastian shakes his head. “What a supreme fucking disappointment you turned out to be. Well, I know what you should do.” He steps up to Cooper, gets in his personal space, and all Kurt can think is he’s about to show him what he can do, and with what part of his body. And though Kurt is confident Cooper can defend himself against a teenager, if he wants to stay out of prison, he won’t.

“Bas …” Kurt puts a hand on the crook of Sebastian’s arm. The sound of his voice, speaking for this first time during this confrontation, has a compounded effect. On Sebastian, it makes him soften, makes him back down. It also draws Blaine’s eyes up from the ground. But when he sees Kurt touching Sebastian, his eyes return to his shoes again.

Sebastian’s jaw works around a dozen swears and just as many threats. But his cooler head prevails. “You should go check on Julian,” he says evenly.

“I’ll … I’ll call him. Right now.”

“You’re past that. He’s at the house. You should go up and see him.”

“What about Blaine?”

“What about Blaine?” Sebastian sneers, glaring at Cooper, utterly refusing to even acknowledge Blaine. “He’s your brother. You figure it out.”

Kurt looks at Blaine, sitting at his brother’s feet. He’s staring down at his hands wrapped around his shins, looking very much like an abandoned puppy waiting to be taken to the pound.

And Kurt hates that.

A few months ago, he’d have hated it because he hated Blaine looking lost and hurt and lonely.

But right now he wishes Blaine would stand the fuck up and act like an adult. Look him in the eyes like an adult.

Own up to his actions like an adult.

Kurt has asked himself a dozen times since he found out Blaine cheated what does he want from Blaine?

That’s what he wants. He wants Blaine to step up.

It doesn’t mean Kurt will take him back, but it might give Kurt a better opinion of him.

“I’ll take him home,” Kurt decides.

“What?” Cooper says, looking more confounded than Kurt has ever seen him. And Kurt has to believe him because he’s not that good an actor.

“What?” Sebastian says. “No!”

“Someone has to take him home. I really think Cooper should go see Julian. Immediately, if not sooner.”

“Well I … I’m coming with you then!”

The twinge of absolute panic hiding beneath the anger in Sebastian’s voice skewers Kurt, but Sebastian’s coming with them isn’t a good idea. He’s more than likely going to take the opportunity to lay into Blaine, and Kurt needs some time alone with him.

He has some questions that deserve answers.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I think you should go to Westerville with Cooper. Mediate between him and Julian. At least be there if things go south. I’ll deal with Blaine.”

“Why? Why do you need to deal with Blaine? Alone?”

Kurt takes Sebastian by the arm and leads him off the porch to talk in semi-private. “I want an explanation,” Kurt says, lowering his voice, hoping Sebastian will follow suit before a sheriff shows up. “He may not give me one if you come with me. And besides, I really think Julian needs you right now.”

“So, what? You owe it to him to hear his side?” Sebastian practically yells in Kurt’s face, apparently unable - or unwilling - to follow social cues. Kurt wagers on the latter. But instead of rising with Sebastian’s anger, Kurt puts his arms around him and holds him, rocks him gently from side to side. That’s all it takes to get Sebastian to fall in line, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and calming down.

“No. He owes it to me to tell me why he took everything I thought was sacred and threw it away. That’s all I want from him. As soon as I can, I’ll drive up and meet you. We’ll have that big house all to ourselves.” Kurt bites his lower lip. “Who knows what kind of mischief we can get ourselves into …”

“Well, relatively to ourselves. Julian will be there.”

“Your door has a lock on it. I think we’ll be fine.” Kurt presses his forehead against Sebastian’s and rubs their noses together. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, Sebastian. And nothing Blaine can say is going to change that. But until then, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says sardonically, most likely realizing by now that nothing he can say is going to change his boyfriend’s mind. “And what’s that?”

Kurt smiles, brushes their lips together in the most chaste of caresses. “Have a little faith in me.”

Sebastian glances down at his shoes, at his feet that refuse to move from this spot as long as Kurt is in his arms, refuse to leave Kurt alone with the boy he’d planned on spending the rest of his life with.

But there is no moving forward if no one takes a step.

“Always,” he says resignedly.

“Thank you,” Kurt says, mouthing over Sebastian’s mouth, teasing him with the promise of a kiss to be continued.

#acitw #acitw au #kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #spread the love!

[ceealaina]

Title: Thinkin' Nothing's Wrong Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card Number: 3088 Link: AO3 Square Filled: T2 - You Can't Trademark That Ship: IronBros Rating: Teen Major Tags: Meet Cute, Fluff and Angst, MIT Era, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting Summary: Jim Rhodes finally gets to meet his MIT roommate.

... As first meetings go, he's had better. Word Count: 1424

(Written for the prompts Roommate, Home, “Are you kidding me?” for @rhodeyappreciationweek​ and for the @tonystarkbingo​)

Jim Rhodes had arrived at MIT move-in day early, checking in as soon as he was able, and through all the chaos of moving in, there had been no sign of his new roommate. He’d almost begun to wonder if maybe there’d been a mix-up and he didn’t have a roommate after all. 

He’d stopped worrying about it when it was time to see his family off, distracted by the tears, and the reiterations of just how proud they were of him, and the reminders to be good and remember that he was representing his family, and reassuring them that he’d call regularly and that he was going to be just fine here. He hadn’t even given his new roommate a second thought until he was heading back to his room and heard a noise inside just as he was about to stick his lock in the key. 

“Right,” he said, gearing himself up to meet whoever was inside. 

It wasn’t that he was nervous, exactly, but he was going to be stuck with this person for the next year. First impressions were probably going to count for a lot. And okay, maybe he was a little nervous that the guy on the other side of the door was going to be some kind of lunatic, and his family had already left without him.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door, eyes immediately tracking out the form of his roommate. He was standing up on the bare mattress of the bed that Jim hadn’t claimed, hanging an enormous poster of Richard Feynman on the wall, but at the sound of the door he turned to face him. There was a hopeful, eager little smile on his face, just a little bit of nerves filtering through, and he opened his mouth to say something -- probably hello, like a normal person -- but Jim had to open his own big mouth first. “Are you kidding me?” he burst out, because, well, there was no way around it. His roommate looked about twelve. 

For a long moment the words hung in the air, loud in the silence of the room, and instantly Jim wished he could take them back. That hopeful smile faded just like that, and for a moment his new roommate looked so sad that Jim felt like the biggest dick on the planet. 

“Shit man,” Jim rambled all in a rush as the kid turned back to the wall, busying himself with getting his poster straight. “I’m sorry. It’s just been a long day. My mouth works faster than my brain sometimes. I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“No, it’s okay.” He glanced over his shoulder at Jim again, and there was another smile but this one was tight and forced, doing a terrible job of hiding how hurt he really felt. “I get it. Nobody wants a kid as their roommate, when they’re trying to have fun and do the whole college thing. I figured this would happen. I wouldn’t want me for a roommate either, but you know... My dad says if I come home before I’ve got my degree I’m on my own. I gotta legacy to live up to, so you’re kinda stuck with me for now. Sorry.” 

He said it so casually, like that was a totally normal thing for a father to say to a child, and Jim felt his stomach plummet. He felt like even more of a dick as he realized that there was no sign of the father in question, or any other family at all. All his stuff was lumped together in a sad little pile in the corner, being unpacked piece by piece, like they’d just dumped him there and taken off. He thought of his own family, driving him crazy as they ‘helped’ him unpack every single thing that he’d brought along, and felt a brief jolt of homesickness go through him -- along with a wave of overprotectiveness, and the urge to hug this kid and then punch his dad. 

“Hey, can we start over?” Jim asked. “Seriously. I was an asshole, no two ways about it. Please don’t let that ruin your opinion of me. We’re gonna have a great year, I know it. Please?” 

His roommate turned around fully, rolling his eyes a little, but his smile was soft and pleased again. “Alright, fine,” he said, with irritated pout that Jim wasn’t buying at all.

“Great!” Jim positively beamed at him and then held out his hand. “My name is Jim Rhodes, I’m from South Philly and I’m here on an ROTC scholarship. And before you start making Navy jokes,” he added, because his roommate looked the type -- and judging by the slightly guilty smile he got, Jim hadn’t been wrong. “I’m Air Force all the way, baby. Gonna be a pilot.” 

“I’d like to learn to fly,” the kid offered, taking Jim’s hand and surprising him with the force of his handshake. “I’m Tony. Stark.” 

Jim bit back a curse. He’d heard the Stark heir was going to MIT this year, but he’d never in a million years guessed that he’d be his roommate. Tony’s comments about his family legacy suddenly made a lot more sense. But then he thought of the nervous edge to Tony’s smile, his comments about not being able to go home without a degree. The way his family had just left him here, alone. For a brief moment, he wondered why, with all that money they hadn’t at least hired movers, or staff, or whatever rich people used to help Tony move in, if they weren’t gonna do it themselves. But then, maybe they’d just wanted to put their appearances in without having something to stay for, or sign off on, like their own kid was just another company asset, something that made them look good, but they didn’t want to be bothered with. 

Tony was looking just a little resigned now, like he was expecting things to change now that Jim knew who he really was, and Jim refused to let his smile falter. “Anyone ever call you Tones?” he asked instead of the multitude of other things that came to mind, pretending there was nothing at all special about his name. 

Judging by the wry smile Tony gave him, he hadn’t been entirely successful, but Tony just played along, looking more and more pleased. “No? That’s like asking if anyone ever called you Rhodey.”

“Oh, I like it!” Jim declared. “Swapping the ends of our names. Tones and Rhodey instead of Rhodes and Tony. It’ll be like… Secret code nicknames.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m fifteen, not five. I’m not an actual baby, I promise.” 

Jim just shrugged. “Whatever you say, Tones. But I like ‘em, and I’m keeping ‘em. We could trademark them!” 

Tony snorted, but he was beaming now, eyes sparkling. “You can’t trademark that! They’re nicknames.”

“Pretty sure you’re wrong about that,” Rhodey insisted, like he had any idea what he was talking about. “You can totally trademark a name.”

“Legally, sure.” Tony acknowledged. “But it’s a fucking stupid thing to trademark.”

“Is it though? I happen to think it’s very smart. This way nobody can make money off our friendship. Like with licensing, you know?” He gave Tony a wink. “You deserve something capitalism can never touch.” 

“Friendship?” Tony repeated, and he was clearly going for dry, but Rhodey didn’t miss the very slight catch in his voice, the way he had looked almost startled at the word. “You met me five minutes ago.” 

Rhodey resisted the urge to wrap him in a tight hug, giving him an imperious shrug instead. “When you know, you know,” he informed him loftily, before gesturing to Tony’s poster. “That Richard Feynman?” 

“Oh.” Tony made a frankly adorable noise that could almost be classified as a giggle before he cleared his throat, cheeks flushing a little. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.” 

Rhodey tilted his head a little. “Am I missing something here? Is it some physics major joke that I’m not getting?” 

“Oh no, it’s not that… I just figure when people ask, I can tell them it’s Dick Fine-Man.” 

Rhodey couldn’t have stopped his laughter if he tried, noting as he did how Tony looked even more pleased. Still chuckling to himself, he moved over to the pile of Tony’s stuff, grabbing his sheets and starting to make the bed without bothering to ask if he wanted the help. 

“Tones?”

“Yes, Rhodey?” 

“You and I are gonna get along just fine.”

@rhodeyappreciationweek @tonystarkbingo

#tonystarkbingo2020 #tsb2020 #rhodeyweek2020 #james rhodes #tony stark #iron bros #meet cute #meet ugly #fluff and angst #protective rhodey #howard stark's a+ parenting #fic #my fic

[btstimestamps]

Mine [Ch.1]

Pairing(s): maknae line x fem!reader [hybrid!au] [college!au]

Genre(s): fluff, tiny amount of angst, lots of smut 😜

Summary: Having three of your best friends as cat hybrids was quite chaotic especially when their heat hits them all at the same time.

-----------------------------------------------

"I'm home~"

You glanced up from your textbook for a moment to acknowledge your friends presence before focusing back on your task. It was the usual evening with Taehyung showing up to your shared apartment first after finishing his classes, your other two friends arriving after from their club activites.

"Have you eaten?" You asked as you wrote down a note next to a highlighted paragraph.

"Nope. I'm hungry." Taehyung slumped next to you and pouted making you smile.

You removed your reading glasses and placed your items on the oak table before going over to the kitchen to heat up some kimchi pancakes your mother had brought over when she came to visit during the day.

"Oh! I love your mother's cooking." Taehyung wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder as he smiled adorably, his tail swaying side to side in a quick pace.

Being used to the skinship, you simply hummed in response as you placed the delicious food on a plate.

"Eat up before it gets cold."

"Yes mom."

You softly laughed at his words as you headed back to your spot on the cushion sofa.

"There's a party tommorow at Seokjin-hyung's house. Wanna come with us?" Taehyung asked after he had his first bite.

"I have to study for the upcoming test. You know how important it is to me." You sent him an apologetic look but he shook his head, refusing your rejection.

"I'll only take a yes."

You sighed and sent the boy a nod making him cheer. In that moment, Jungkook and Jimin entered the apartment in a tired fashion.

"What with the celebrating?" Jimin asked but immediately caught the smell of food, his body automatically taking him to the source.

"Hey! These are mine!" Taehyung complained as Jimin mercilessly took a huge bite out of the pancake.

"Hyung, [F/N]-noona already heated up our food." Jungkook nodded towards the other plates you setted on the side and Jimin smiles in glee.

"Thanks [F/N]! You're the best~"

The trio sat by the table and chatted as they ate while you continued with your studying. It wasn't until they finished that you stood up and cleaned the table, ushering the boys to rest on the sofa while you cleaned up.

"Can we watch that movie today, noona?" Jungkook's voice startled you that you almost dropped the plate that was in your hands.

He reached out in time, placing his hand over yours and you both stood still trying to comprehend the current situation. Jungkook's cheeks turned a dark shade of red and he retracted his hand causing you to almost drop the plate again.

"That was close." You placed a hand over your heart while Jungkook came out of his daze, forcing a chuckle to leave his lips.

You were obviously not fazed by the contact, more concerned for the plate to even think about it but the younger boy strangely could not stop thinking about how your soft hand felt against his. If only he could feel more of your skin underneath those clothes and-

"Jungkook?"

His eyes widened as he realised where his mind was going and he took a step back.

"Are you ok?" You asked as you tried approaching him but he turned away and stormed off to his room.

The door slamming made you wince and you glanced over to your roommates who both shared a looking of understanding.

"Don't worry about Jungkook. He'll be fine in the morning." That didn't take away your concern but you sent them a nod, deciding it was best to drop the subject.

"I'm heading off to bed then. Goodnight." You took a step towards your room but you were called once more.

"Can't you sleep in my room tonight?" Jimin questioned and you blinked in confusion.

"I can but why do you want me to? Did you have a nightmare last night?" You said back with a tinge of worry but Jimin's smile that he directed towards you indicated that you were wrong.

"I just want to be close to you and cuddle and kiss-" Taehyung lightly elbowed Jimin in the stomach before he could finish.

"Go to bed, [F/N]. We'll see you in the morning." He told with a warm smile.

You returned it as you bid them farewell once more and soon entered your room. Taehyung's smile immediately dropped and he turned to glare at his friend who raised his hands while feigning an innocent expression.

"We are all friends, remember?" He emphasised the most important word making Jimin groan and slump against the sofa.

"I know but I can't help it." He sighed, closing his eyes as an image of your pretty form appeared in his mind.

"You're heat can't but you can. Control it for the next week." Taehyung told making the older boy huff.

"Tell that to Jungkook. He will be the worst out of us three."

Taehyung glanced at Jungkook's door already knowing what the male was up to and released a sigh.

"I'll talk to him in the morning."

The two decided to call it a night and head to their rooms.

---------------------------------------------

"N-Noona..."

Jungkook bit his swollen lip as he aggressively pumped his thick member with his longer slender fingers wrapped around it.

He imagined you with your ass up in the air as you bend over to take his throbbing cock in your mouth. Your lust filled gaze never leaves his and it drives him insane.

Jungkook almost rips off his sleeve once he bites into it to hold in his cry. Cum shoots out and his body shakes as he rides his orgasm, his eyes rolling to back of his head due to the pleasure. He breathed heavily, trying to calm down from his high before he grabbed some tissues from his side draw and cleaned up. Jungkook soon settled in his bed, glad that he had released a bit of the stress that he was suffering from but he knew it was only going to get worse as the week went by.

---------------------------------------------

"Good morning!"

The three cat hybrids shuffled out of their rooms, looking equally tired as the other but as they smelt the delicious aroma coming from the kitchen, they perked up.

"Did you sleep well?"

Jungkook had sat down with his friends and began eating, not realising you had directed the question to him until Jimin nudged him.

"I did...sorry about last night, noona." a tinge of pink dusted his cheeks as he ducked his head in shame.

"It's alright! Don't feel bad." You patted his back in comfort and Jungkook almost purred, his cat ears twitching.

"Calm down, you're making it obvious." Taehyung whispered and the male jumped in a startled manner.

You had gone away at that point to grab your bag, not hearing the interaction between the two which was a relief.

"I'm off then. I'll see you all at the party!" You put your shoes on and sent the three a wave before you headed out of the apartment.

"I don't want noona to go to the party..." Jungkook mumbled with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Jimin had to agree with the younger boy, a small frown settling onto his handsome features.

"I might go crazy if I see any other boy look at what's mine." He hissed, his cat ears stretching back as anger hit him.

Taehyung rolled up the magazine that you had left on the table earlier and lightly smacked each of them on the head.

"Control yourselves."

Jimin glanced at the taller boy and rolled his eyes, his lips forming into a small smirk.

"You should be telling yourself that."

Taehyung glanced up and saw his reflection through the mirror, hanging on the wall. His normally brown eyes were now glowing amber as his irises had become thin, his canines sharpening also.

He cursed under his breath and turned away, closing his eyes but as he did, images of the dream he had last night played around in his mind.

"Make me yours, Taehyung." You were lying underneath the shirtless male, your hands reaching out to bring him down.

He bit his lip and lowered himself, tilting his head to be able to share a kiss with you.

"Fuck." He muttered in annoyance before he hastily walked back to his room.

He threw on a random shirt with black skinny jeans, brushed his black locks into a decent style before wearing his favourite pair of shoes. Placing the strap of his bag on his shoulder, he released a huff and nodded to himself.

"Be strong, Taehyung. Be strong."

-----------------------------------------------

"Have all three of you bonded with [F/N] or something?"

Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook simultaneously looked to their right to see their dog hybrid friend Namjoon who raised a brow at their behaviour which they had made quite obvious.

"What do you mean?" Jimin decided to ask for the three of them but Namjoon simply rolled his eyes.

"You all look like you want to incinerate every male that is even thirty centimetres near her." He looked over to see your cheery self chatting with a few other people as you took sips of your juice.

"[F/N]! Don't be so boring and have a few drinks!" A male classmate approached you as he offered you alcohol but you shook your head, pointing towards your own drink.

"No thanks. I would rather not have a headache the next day." You smiled politely but he dismissed your words with a wave of his hand.

Your roommates watched from afar, growing tense as they saw the male grab your hand and drag you to his circle of friends.

"Uh oh. This does not look good..." Namjoon muttered as he sank into the sofa to make his presence less known.

You were trying to stop them from making you drink, being as polite as possible but it only annoyed your classmate, him having the nerve to throw a drink at you and soak your clothes.

"If you don't want to then why be here in the first place. It's a party, you stupid-"

A fist came in contact with his cheek and it sent him flying onto the table. A gasp left a majority of the students including you who gazed at your friend in shock.

"T-Taehyung..."

Jimin and Jungkook were out of their seats ready to fight but the so called calmest out of the three had beaten them to it. Taehyung bared his sharp teeth, his ears perking up while his tail swished aggressively. He stepped forward to grab the male but you quickly intervened, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Stop!"

His amber eyes moved onto your trembling form that clung onto him and they immediately returned to their normal colour.

"I knew I shouldn't have invited you."

Seokjin entered the scene, his eyebrows knitted together as he expressed his anger towards the male who was struggling to get up. He glanced over to Taehyung and sent him a small smile before speaking up.

"Take her home. I'll sort this out."

They exchanged a nod and you glanced down as Taehyung entwined your hands before he took you away, Jimin and Jungkook following behind.

"Here, noona." Jungkook had covered you with his jacket before you stepped outside and you gave him your thanks.

It was quiet as you all walked back to your apartment but as soon as you stepped in, closed the door and settled onto your sofa, you were the first to speak up.

"You all have been acting strange recently. Do you want to tell me why?"

Jimin looked at the younger two before deciding to speak up.

"It's actually-"

"Nothing, we're fine. Exams are coming up and we're just stressed."

Taehyung had cut Jimin off who raised a brow in his direction. You didn't buy his excuse and stood up, shrugging of Jungkook's jacket in the process.

"If you don't want to tell me, fine." You bit back at them and Jungkook's ears turned flat as he saw how hurt you became.

Taehyung was unfazed and waved his hand towards you in a careless manner. You bit you lip to hold back saying anything else before turning away and marching to your room. As soon as the door shut, Taehyung's expression matched Jungkook's causing Jimin to look at him in disbelief.

"What was that?"

The black haired boy slumped back into the sofa and sighed.

"The first time I went through my heat with [F/N] around, she was way too awkward with me. She even offered to leave our apartment for a week. That's why I always told you two to be away from [F/N] whenever it happens but now that it hit us three at the same time, we can't all just dissappear without telling her." Taehyung informed and the two finally understood.

"I'll deal with it on my own. Don't worry, hyung." Jungkook said making his friend smile.

Jimin agreed too before letting out a yawn.

"I'm going then. See you tomorrow."

It was the next day and it was you day off so you proceeded to be lazy and have a bit of time to yourself. You weren't alone in the apartment, Jungkook being their too but he had locked himself in his room claiming he had a stomach bug and didn't want you to catch it. You were worried sick at first but last night's conversation reminded you that you were not talking to any of them especially Taehyung so you proceeded to ignore your friend and let him deal with his sickness himself. Although, a small part of you still wanted to go out and buy him medicine.

"Noona..." You had walked past Jungkook's room to go into your own but paused as you heard him call you.

"Kookie? Are you ok?" You called him with concern laced in you voice.

"I need help." He weakly answered and you immediately turned the knob to his door which you were sure was locked.

You stumbled inside, your lips parting to speak but your mouth turned dry at the sight before you. Jungkook was shirtless with his boxers pulled down while his hand was wrapped around his cock.

You were speechless. Is this the reason why your friends were acting strange? Did that mean...

"You're all on your heat? At the same time?" You asked in disbelief and Jungkook groaned in frustration.

"Please, just help me, noona." He begged and you flushed, your cheeks turning red.

"I-uh-um-vagshsvzh-ok." You stumbled over your words as you shuffled towards him.

Once you were an arm length away, Jungkook grabbed your hand and placed it on his throbbing cock.

"Stroke it." He ordered and you horribly blushed at his straightforward words.

You did but it still wasn't enough making him hiss.

"Come here." He yanked you forward and you fell on his lap.

He leaned forward, your lips almost touching but he fought back his instinct and asked for your permission.

"Can I kiss you?"

You gulped, too embarrassed to even nod but the look in your eyes indicated that you were allowing him. He immediately kisses you and you were tense at first until he moved his lips and guided you to follow his movements. A shiver ran down your spine making you relax. You didn't know where to to put your hands so you settled them on his shoulder, squeezing them here and there whenever the kiss became intense. Jungkook guided your hand back to his hard member and you stroked it at a slow pace making him moan in the kiss. You parted from the kiss and watched as he leaned his head back, breathing heavily as you pleased him.

You couldn't help but admire the way he expressed his pleasure so you experimented by giving his cock a light squeeze. A strangled moan was heard after and you bit your lip, liking his reaction.

"Should I do that again?" You asked and Jungkook almost melted at the flicker of dominance that appeared in your eyes.

"Yes, please. Please do it again. I love it."

You honestly didn't know where this confidence was coming from but you loved it just as much as you loved Jungkook submitting to you.

Picking up your pace, Jungkook's breathing pattern quickened as he felt his high coming and you leaned down, showering his neck with kisses. You harshly sucked on his sweet spot and his grip on his bedsheets tightened.

"I-I'm gonna cum." He stuttered and you slowed down your strokes making his eyes widen.

"Noona, make me cum, please!" He begged and you licked your lips.

"Don't worry, baby." You assured and Jungkook felt his heart flutter over the pet name.

It wasn't long before his hot seed sperted out and landed on his lean stomach. You grabbed a few tissues and helped the younger boy who was trying to calm down. You planned on getting up after he pulled up his boxers but Jungkook was fast and wrapped his arms around your waist. He dragged you back down, and you made a startled noise as you fell on your side.

"Stay with me." He whispered and you glanced up, closing your eyes for a second as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

You leaned your head against his bare chest and sighed.

"Are you feeling better now?" You asked and Jungkook hummed in response.

You didn't realise when you fell asleep but you definitely did when you felt someone yank Jungkook away from you.

The male landed roughly on the floor and he winced before looking up to glare at whoever disturbed his peaceful sleep. His expression changed to fear and guilt as he saw who it was exactly.

"Hyung..."

"Is this how your dealing with it because, I don't see you doing it on your own." Taehyung looked over to you but you weren't scared, you were calm.

"You should have told me you were going through your heat." You got off the bed and helped Jungkook stand who then stood behind you, his cat ears pointing down as he kept his gaze on the floor.

"We're friends, [F/N]. If we do this, I don't know where our relationship will stand after this." He countered but you shook your head.

"I love you all and I care for you all. So, if I have to help you, Jungkook and Jimin go through this heat then I don't care about our relationship. I'm not the same awkward turtle I was two years ago. I will help you this time." You declared.

Taehyung's canines grew sharp as his coloured orbs changed into a beautiful shade of Amber. He leaned forward and lightly hissed but you stood your ground.

"Don't start complaining when you're unable to walk."

#bts #btsv #bts imagines #bts maknae line #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #BTS jimin #BTS jungkook

[incarnateirony]

In what season and episode did you realised that Destiel went from subtext to actual text?

Difficult question really. I don’t exactly have a magic switch of some weird personal set goalpost I have, and frankly, wasn’t even really a shipper, just defended shippers, until... 13.5/6. I think I started slipping after 12.19 because I’m not a moron, I don’t live under a rock, I have eyes and know what the fuck a mixtape means to Gen X. But I kept it at arms reach because even Carver era was so totally subtextual-- atop all the stuff that got cut S10 after the S9 blowout, I didn’t exactly want to invest myself as much as point out shippers weren’t crazy for seeing what they saw, especially S8/9+ and even prior the resonance of the hero’s journey over our entire human civilization and historical othering of queerness made earlier readings or notices of it completely fair even if not really like, directional by the crew?

But to begin, Carver era was when I saw /intentful and meritful construction of the body of text, via subtext, to subtextually tell a story with classic queer coding./ Because a lot of what this fandom calls queer coding makes me want to hide my face behind a quantum hole of facepalms and is often like, pretty much the reverse of what should be advocated or considered. All those retro old “he’s been written as queer from S1″ make me want to kick puppies or something because oh my god it’s Not Good, most of the content there is Very Bad And Hugely Problematic, and it’s an attempt to retroactively prove what old canon was doing without any substance.

Carver era was the shift to substance, but silent substance. Subtext that’s genuinely thematically scaffolded into the storyline in a way that while the events themselves were largely cued on subtext, consideration of that subtext was critical to understanding the full body of text and people that refused to grow into and adapt with that text as the tone shifted are the ones that got more and more confused and angry.

Dabb era was the threshold crossing into (often low-visibility) text. Fandom intentionally arguing points that require complete removal from social structures (which is everything from regional meanings of major symbols, social codes, language, or why-letters-mean-things) doesn’t mean shit doesn’t mean what it means. A mixtape isn’t subtext any more than getting on one knee and popping open a box is subtext even if they don’t verbalize the words. We know what these fucking things mean and anyone who doesn’t is in DESPERATE need of going outside and experiencing the real world before making any kind of social commentary on a body of text.

When it comes to dialogue text, Last Call is where Bi Dean or at least Queer Umbrella Dean was textualized. Again, it doesn’t matter if people don’t understand the long argued history that was put to bed about repeat sexual encounters with men, it doesn’t matter what the gender of the other triplets were, literally none of that matters. It doesn’t matter if the person understands it. It doesn’t matter if they know their queer culture enough to know their arguments were already buried. It is what it is.

There’s this disillusionment that unspoken physicalized shit like kissing or sex, or verbalized ones like “I love you,” but “I love you, in a gay way, specifically and only you, and want to be romantic with you” because every other statement of the like so far has people crying or arguing about it as not enough either. 

These things are nice, but it is not the only way to deliver a textual romance. These are things we want and deserve, and people aren’t wrong for wanting them, the only wrong comes in deleting other text because it isn’t the style of text they want. 100% unhelpful.

Text in AV is complex. No matter how decontextualized people try to pretend this all is, throwing pasta at the wall and calling it an argument worth validating, AV media study doesn’t just incorporate social codes on shit like dialogue -- though anyone that applies those social codes wouldn’t be arguing anyway, as per my old post on that -- but visual language and TV literacy are a long studied topic and are just as relevant as understanding of textual/verbal language and having textual literacy. People trying to eschew these in the interest of favoring fanspaces to try to keep them equal within the canon, which is NOT what fandom space equality is supposed to be about, is just... lol. 

When that soap opera reporter that doesn’t even watch the show wandered in commenting on the full mise en scene of the 15.03 breakup being classical “Dark Point in the Romance” framing, that’s not subtext. In a book, characters aren’t running around on a blank canvas. Their environments are the text. 

What people may draw symbolically out of an environment varies, and if someone’s /interpretation/ holds up, that’s fine. But being able to digest the entire presentation of a work, that is to say, to read an entire scene in a book and understand their setting and the relevance of that setting is simply a form of text. And when literal fucking randos can spot classic cinematography, it’s time to consider what the full cinematic framework is telling you both in incremental minutiae of texts and in the full body of work.

So basically, I acknowledged lowkey text based on the most basic understanding of social codes, by 12.19, even if I was still kinda eyerolling about it. By 13.5/6, Castiel returned to Dean in something later echoed by Eileen for the zoom shot, but the rest of the arrangement was verbatim identical to the original ending of Swan Song with Lisa, with the only difference being “Never too late” wasn’t a verbal line, but an entire sound track they applied to highlight the scene.

Despite the Swan Song parallel ending reactives went up in arms about the fact that they weren’t having big romantic moments anymore and kinda failed to wrap braincases around the fact that the endgame reunion that was literally the ORIGINAL endgame shot, which ALSO didn’t include physicality (in fact, the text read, “this isn’t sexual at all. He’s a lost soul, and she’s his home” in the script for Lisa), and this dumbass fandom would go “SEE PROOF THAT MEANS THE TEXT MEANS IT WASNT SEXUAL AND HE JUST BECAME BEST FRIENDS THAT WAS HER BEDWARMER MAYBE SHE HAS COLD FEET AT NIGHT” and that’s not how this fucking WORKS. Common sense is NOT removed from fucking discussion and what sense is applied needs to be levelly-- again, social codes.

So at 13.5/6 I had considered it textually paramount to the original endgame arrangement. S14 was just... blatant ass domesticity. Dean got his happy ending. He had his family. He got his win, his everything. They spoke frequently in the kitchen -- only vaguely over cases, more slapping around idioms, eyerolling over barbarous eating, and occasionally discussing how to raise their son. In fact, if you look at non-research-non-casework S14 kitchen scenes I’m gonna let you sit there and map out what all those domestic moments in the heart of the kitchen was, minding 13.5/6. 

It was something gained. It was their life. And it was something to lose. 14.18 already advert framed it, we all saw it. Troubled family. People delete history of what is connected where to pretend “we” is vague or makes the romance any less of a canon piece and lmao guys 

And season 15 is their year long run where they’re spearheading a huge part of the plot and will be a critical final resolution.

Speaking of 13.5/6 and social codes, anyone remember that Jack hadn’t met Dave Mather and looked at one nonphysical picture of them and recognized “he’s her boyfriend”? SOCIAL CODES MEAN SHIT GUYS.

So there’s no magic moment. There’s S8/9 coding and subtext. There’s S12′s tape and other elements -- tape is just the easiest to nail down but several through the year tbh -- there’s S13′s Never Too Late, and all things that followed that in waterfall. There’s S14′s established domesticity with Castiel having essentially moved into the bunker, something that wasn’t even entirely established in S12 yet even if he was more frequent there than Carver era.

Without social codes, I could argue that “Dean loves pie” doesn’t actually mean he loves pie. In fact, I could argue those letters mean nothing, because basic social codes are what even give words meanings. Without them these are just squiggly lines on a screen. If I eschew social codes, I could take a “love me some pie” line from Dean and say it means he fornicates with children and make long convoluded excuses around it instead of the observable fucking fact that Dean fucking Winchester likes goddamn pie.

Waiting for your perfect personally dreamed magic moment for a landmark to call text generally disregards the full body of the text and merit of the work. The amount of time and effort this FUCKING shipping fandom has put into -- even Destiel shippers -- bashing down and calling blatant ass text subtext because it’s not the text they want -- just because they want to argue with people that threw the logic baby out with the destiel bathwater they thought was dirty -- it’s fucking embarrassing tbqh. Imagine if people’s competitive fandom BS was muted how anyone here would be addressing this body of text.

Like. “After Carver directed Misha to play Castiel as a jilted lover in season 9, Cain through S10 escalated it into Castiel as Colette, which was confirmed by both the author and actors, seating him as a lover, as Sam was Abel the brother; by season 11, pining and connected hearts becomes the driving theme of the show, repeatedly denounced both in text and showrunner commentary that it wasn’t Amara that was that romance, and instead, a different one rose; by season 12, domestic arguments were many, mixtapes were shared, coming into rooms and playing people for things secretly stashed under pillows were a hinging plot moment, by season 13 he was the Never Too Late Big Win as a far more powerful version of Lisa, by season 14 Castiel moved in, by season 15 their giant sacred marriage euchartist ceremonies on repeat are driving the entire body of the season while overtly making the straight pairing a secondary parallel to the primary Dean and Castiel pairing by 15.09 such as the AU scene, or the ending where they mimicked the same phrase, truncated by physicality. But anyone viewing this text is an adult not competing for their preferred fandom playbox to be considered in the text, and had eyeballs, saw Sam and Eileen were clearly courting, flirting, and/or romantically engaged for a long time before this.”

Can we hope for the equality in that, sure.  I want that, sure. That doesn’t erase all the other modes of text before that though. 

But there, I just addressed 4 consecutive seasons of storytelling as its stands in the critical themes, without breaking down the dozens of independent scenes themselves that have already been analyzed to death and yall have scorched in your eyeballs by now like angels have prophet names. 

I’ve seen people desperately, desperately try to reinterpret this text, or this story structure, in inconsistent ways that fall short. They’re never held accountable for their entire shit falling flat on their face, they just keep building new shit that falls on its face too and keep using it as a base. People can *interpret* ~text~ however they want. Anyone that tells you that “true text is inarguable” is either an idiot or selling you something for your subscription to their blog. Anyone CAN make any jackass interpretation of anything they want. 

So sure. You can make some nonsensical explanation around every core theme their relationship is shadowed by, removing all social codes and context from basic elements understood by adult human beings natively, whatever. You can take 200 pages writing around it and degaying it. Generally when I see this, I see unhinged, incomplete writings with no central thread, just a thousand disembodied excuses that don’t even make a story. They’re just that. Desperate excuses. Years of it at this point. And they’re free to /interpret the text like that/ if they want. But that’s their /interpretation/ of a /text/ and as-above generally in /intentional, willful, conscious denial and erasure of the basic social codes we all understand./

Just because they /can/ warp the most left field interpretation doesn’t make it not text. If I pulled an “I don’t know I can’t english suddenly” and threw those codes out the window that doesn’t mean that the shit doesn’t mean the shit it means just because it’s inconvenient to me lmao

And this isn’t necessarily at you, Nonnie, I just feel the need to expand on this because any single time I don’t nail down these conversational stakes, someone breezes through and intentionally hotboxes the conversation to go down these very predictable manipulations and extremizations of the conversation that I really am far too tired to repeat the arguments raging in my mentions again, so I head ‘em off before the shit ever reblogs.

[upinthestarsx3]

Off Limits (m) part 6

Professor!reader x College student!Jungkook au

Genre: short series|smut|mostly angst|fluff in future|au

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Explicit language, mature content, including some  masturbation and voyeurism in this chapter.

Summary: You’re fresh out of college having just received your masters degree in Math. You begin working at a nearby college and meet your headstrong student, Jungkook. After a drunk hookup; things get complicated.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

a/n: It’s been so long. Ugh I just fixed so many typos so apologies to anyone who read before I edited lmao. This chapter was fun to write. Enjoy and sorry i’m so flaky with posting more often!

The drive to Jungkook’s house is a blur. You sped through the main road knowing that he would also be on his way home; it was a race that you had to win.

When you arrive, your fingers run over the smooth keypad; trying every combination that might possibly get you into his fancy high tech building.

“Baby.” You hear someone whisper from behind you, letting out heavy breaths as if he’d just ran a mile.

You don’t need to turn back to know that it’s Jungkook, “Leave me alone.” You demand through pursed lips; your fingers still running rapidly on the keypad.

“You’re going to set off the alarm, y/n.” He speaks up again, his tone stern as he held his keycard in his hand. This time you turn towards him, confused that he used your actual name instead of calling you baby; the nickname you grew to love hearing from him.

“Let me in; I need my things.” Your words spill from your mouth like venom, and your glare holds nothing but disgust in them.

“Not until we talk.” He tells you, instead of asking.

A look of disbelief washes over your face, you place your hands on your hips and shake your head from side to side,

“No! I don’t want to talk. I want my things.”

He lets out a loud exhale as he rolls his eyes,

“Y/N, please stop being dramatic. I’m sorry, okay? Where will you go if you leave tonight?” He grills you, walking towards you to take your hand in his; but you quickly snatch it away, catching him off guard. His hand drops to his side, his eyebrows creasing deeply as he takes his keycard and swipes it for you.

The two of you walk quietly side by side to his front door. He reaches for his keys and pauses for a minute; taking a long look at you with fluttering eyes, and you see that same admiration in them.

“What, Jungkook?” You whine, eyes rolling as you quickly break eye contact with him.

“I love you.” He whispers, “and I don’t want you to leave me.”

“I don’t even think you know what love is,” you reply bluntly. He doesn’t acknowledge your insult as he finally opens the door and allows you to walk inside.

He watches you sadly as you gather your things, sitting at the edge of the bed while rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans.

“Will you stay if I tell you what happened between me and Taehyung? Is that why you’re upset?”

“If you don’t know why I’m upset then we really have nothing to talk about.”

“You always try to make me seem like the problem, y/n. All I do is treat you well and you drag me along like a fucking rag doll because you know I love you.” He mumbles before he breaks into sobs. It takes all your might to stay put and not rush to his side and embrace him until his sadness passes, but you don’t- you refuse to feed into this any longer.

“I’m not going to let you manipulate me. Not this time, Jungkook.” Standing your ground as you hold several boxes in your hand.

“Everyone always fucking leaves me.” He sounds wounded, broken even. You wonder if he’s been this intense since the two of you first started dating.

You stand awkwardly by the door, silent for a few minutes, debating if you should even say anything at all,

“Hey.” You call out to him.

“Just go.” He croaks, turning his face away from you as his tears continue to flow freely.

“Kookie, look at me. This is not healthy. I’m so sorry that I let it go on; I should have never crossed that line. You are my student, and I am your professor. That is all it will ever be from this point forward.”

He rolls his eyes and gives you an incredulous look,

“Baby, you and I both know we can’t go back to that, not after I’ve been inside you-“

“Stop it.” You cut him off, twisting the door knob to leave before glancing back at him once more, telling him, “I don’t like who you’re becoming.”

**

Jungkook skipped 3 classes during the week, no emails, no texts, and no calls. The same paranoia that drove you crazy once before, crept its way back in once again. You hand back quizzes to your class, ignoring the awkward glances from both Jimin and Taehyung.

Are you on campus?

You can’t just keep missing classes.

Stop ignoring me! It’s immature.

He reads every message and leaves you read, which only fuels your anger. You continue class with a smile plastered on your face while you glance to your phone every once in a while.

Halfway through class the door swings open, and in walks Jungkook with another female student whom hasn’t been present from class; and they walk in hand in hand. None of them spare any glances your way and you clench your fists tightly by your sides,

“You two think it’s okay to just walk into class 35 minutes late and not even apologize?” You practically growl.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. I was distracted, it won’t happen again!” Mina apologizes sincerely. Not that it made you feel any better. You look to Jungkook and raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to explain himself.

“What?” He snaps loudly, embarrassing you as the group of students look from him to you, waiting for your response.

“See me after class,” you reply, turning your back to everyone and facing the board to finish the problem on the board.

“Or what?” He sarcastically talks back, “You’ll punish me?”

You snap your head towards his direction a shocked expression as you watch him lick his lips with low sultry looking eyes- all while having his arm around Mina.

Glancing to your phone you see that it’s 20 minutes too early to end class, but end it anyway,

“Have a good weekend, guys. Remember, midterms next week; I’ll email you all an exact date this weekend.”

Students quickly dart from their seats and out of the classroom, excited for the weekend, presumably.

“Jungkook, I told you to stay after class.” You demand, staring daggers through him. He rolls his eyes dramatically and tells Mina he would text her later.

“Why are you acting like this?” You ask in a small voice, looking away from him and towards the floor.

He stands there and stares down at you, a stoic expression on his face,

“Why am I acting like this? You mean getting together with someone that will actually appreciate me?”

“I meant why are you missing classes, showing up late, and being rude to me in front of everyone.” Of course you were upset about him dating Mina, but you’d never admit that to him. This seems to bother him, his face turning into one of confusion.

“Fuck you, y/n.”

“No fuck you, asshole! I’m so sick of you and your childish games.”

The two of you stand there, arguing in low voices to avoid being heard, like two children.

A knock on the door makes the both of you jump about two feet apart,

“Oh, I’m glad to see the two of you here.” Jin smiles, “y/n, the art competition is on Monday at 7pm, don’t forget. It’s right on campus, first floor in the art building. Jungkook, I’m expecting some great work for the art show from you.” He doesn’t wait for a response before he waves and walks off.

Jungkook begins walking towards the door without another word. This was something you were not used to at all, you had grown accustomed to him always being the one to apologize, admit he’s wrong, and ask for another chance- never did you think he would stop,

“Wait!” You yell out, “I left some things at your house, I’m gonna need to pick them up.” You continue, your voice much lower than before.

“I’ll be with Mina tonight, but you can get them tomorrow night.” He walks out without a goodbye, a smile, or an I love you, and it breaks your heart.

You arrive to the motel you’ve called home for the past week, lying in bed and allowing yourself to finally cry, weeks and weeks of emotions building up, only to be uncaged as you sit on a bed in an empty room, filled with nothing but an 80s style tv and a dresser that had cat claw marks engraved in it.

Grabbing your phone and looking through your contacts you scroll through names of people you haven’t spoken to since college, only stopping when you find Jungkook’s name, labeled as, Kookie.

The phone rings twice before it goes right to voicemail, signaling that he ignored it; which only made you cry more. You quickly begin sending texts to his phone back after back, unconcerned that he would be with his rebound.

“Please talk to me.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I am sorry!”

“Kookie..”

“Please don’t do this to me.”

A half hour passes, and you find yourself walking to nearest place that could get you blackout drunk. You were unbothered that you were now in a bar occupied by drunk young adults no older than 30. You’re too busy impatiently calling the bartender over and asking for three shots, all for yourself, and throwing them back before asking for another round.

“Geez, y/n. Slow down, wait, I can call you y/n, right? Since we’re not on campus?” Jimin’s voice sounds alarms in your head as you turn slowly towards him.

“Just fucking great.” Is your nice way of greeting him back and you place your head in your hands.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, we’re not on campus. Everything okay with Jungkook?” He asks, making your eyes widen and you cringe,

“Please don’t do that, don’t- don’t ask about him. It’s weird.”

“Okay, fine. How about a shot? My treat? I still feel really bad about the whole Taehyung situation.”

You contemplate asking about Jungkook and Taehyung, wondering why they hated each other so much when they apparently used to be like brothers.

“Fine, shots. Your treat.” You smile, still a little uncomfortable, but not enough to turn down free liquor.

“y/n! y/n! Are you okay?” You hear Jimin’s voice echoing as you try to gain your balance, you haven’t drank this much since you turned 21. If you were being honest, you were more of a wine drinker and hated clear liquor.

“I’m fine.” you slur. Smiling his way and ignoring his worried glances.

Towards the back you see a group of people playing beer pong, and you quickly run to join them; Jimin tries to grab your arm but you pull away and walk over to the man who needed a partner.

It wasn’t like you to meet strangers in the bar- hell, bars weren’t even your thing. But here you were, lying on the bar table with your shirt lifted preparing for body shots with your beer pong partner after winning two games in a row.

You soak in the feeling of this man sucking liquor from your stomach and licking his way down to your hips, humming as began leaving kisses there.

You turn your head to glance around the bar, suddenly worried that Jimin might be watching. Instead, you’re met with Jungkook’s wicked eyes. His arms crossed over his chest as he raises his eyebrows accusingly. You quickly jump up from your lying position and push the man away from you as you walk to the door,

“Koo-“

“Don’t talk me, y/n.” He hums defeatedly, helping you to his car and buckling you in,

“Jimin called me and told me you were out of control.”

“I was fine!” You lash out, who did Jimin think he was? Calling Jungkook on you?

He ignores you the rest of the way, and takes you straight to his apartment complex.

“Go brush your teeth. You stink like liquor.”

Pouting at his insult you run into the bathroom, opting to take a shower as well.

“Kookie, please bring me a towel.”

He walks into the bathroom and throws the towel on the counter from the doorway, not even darting his eyes your way. He goes to walk back out and you comment,

“Want to come in?” A hopeful tone in your voice,

“No.” And he slams the door behind him.

His bad attitude made you wish you were back at your lonely motel, he doesn’t want anything to do with you and it tears you apart. The both of you lie in the same bed but he lies down a foot away from you, lying on his back and staring up the ceiling.

“Kookie.” You whisper, turning on your side and reaching out for him. You reach his arm and prepare for him to pull away, but he doesn’t. Sure enough, you slowly scoot your way towards his warm body, and as if it’s instinct, he wraps his arms around you. You don’t dare say anything to ruin this moment, he loves you, and you were beginning to think you loved him back.

In the morning you wake up to an empty bed, your head feels as though it’s weighed down by bricks and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“There’s medicine and water on the night stand, I’m making breakfast. You need to eat.” He smiles softly, the smile doesn’t reach his eyes but it’s a good start.

“Thanks.” Is all you’re able to get out, afraid you might say the wrong thing and set him off.

It stays that way the entire morning, quiet but content. No words are ever needed between the two of you. It was like you spoke through touching, through facial expressions, and through helpful gestures.

You watch him sit in front of his drawing canvas, the stress on his face makes you upset for him. He had only two days to finish his art exhibit work- and he hasn’t even started.

“I don’t know what to do,” he explodes, making you jump from your position on the bed,

“Why don’t you draw a portrait of your dad, you’d automatically win, no one will turn down a school president portrait.

“Shut up.” He laughs; the soft wrinkles near his eyes make your heart melt.

“Maybe you just need some motivation,” you say, standing up from the bed, walking towards him before you stand in front of him, attempting to sit in his lap but he pushes you back down on the bed.

“Seriously? After last night you’re going to try that?”

“Jungkook, how many times do I have to say I’m sorry! I wasn’t myself last night.”

“You haven’t said sorry at all, y/n.” He’s clearly frustrated and you know you’ve screwed up whatever nice moment the two of you were having.

“If you were pleasing me than I wouldn’t have to find it somewhere else.” You snarl. His eyes shoots from his canvas and he purses his lips,

“Then you should learn to please yourself.” He grills you, waiting for another smart comment to come from your lips,

“I don’t- I’ve never done that. I mean, I’ve touched myself but I’ve never-“

“Really?” He questions, a surprised look on his face as he loses interest in the canvas.

“You can teach me.” You beg, pulling his hand and guiding it to the crotch of your shorts, he moves his chair and kneels in front you, rubbing you through the thin material, listening to you let you soft moans. Just as quickly as he started, he stops.

“What the hell.” You meant to yell, but it still comes out as light moan.

“I wanna see you touch yourself.” He bites his lip before sitting back down in front of you.

“Take of your shorts baby.” He guides you, watching your every move. You listen to him, taking it off quickly and throwing it across the room. You reach for your panties but you hear him speak,

“No. You listen to what I tell you to do.” Your eyes light up and you nod your head quickly.

“Pull your panties to the side, I wanna see your pussy.” He shifts in his seat and moves a little closer. Your run your fingers over your slit covered by a laced thong before moving the thin material to the right side.

“What next.” Squirming in your place begging for instruction to please your throbbing womanhood.

“Run a finger between your lips, baby.”

You quickly swipe a finger all the way up to your clit but he smirks,

“Slower.” Dragging out the word, and leaning in to get a better look,

“So pretty.” You look up at him with a smile and see that he’s already palming himself through his jeans,

“Touch your clit. Flick it a little bit, it’ll feel good.” He reassures.

Bringing your index finger to your clit you graze it lightly and arch your back in pleasure, feeling you pussy get wetter.

You look up at him expectantly and see that he’s drawing; looking between you and his canvas. You quickly squeeze your legs shut and sit up,

“What are you doing?”

“Drawing.” He answers as though it’s no big deal.

“Yes I know what you’re doing but- but-“

“No one will know it’s you. Has anyone ever seen you like I have? Naked? Legs spread open? You touch yourself for anyone else other than me?”

“No.”

“So nothing to worry about, open your legs.” He comforts you lovingly,

“Now show me how you finger yourself, baby. Show me how you please yourself.” His words alone make you moan and you find yourself begging for him to finish you off, he doesn’t of course. This was your lesson- your payback for last night.

“Oh gosh,” you squeal, your hips circling as you continued to finger yourself,

“Rub your clit with your other hand.” He murmurs. You quickly place your hand over your clit and rub it at a fast pace while fucking yourself with three fingers.

You hadn’t realized how long you’ve been at this until you see his finished canvas pushed to the side and his hand wrapped around his cock as he moves his tight grasp up and down.

“Fuck me, Kookie.” You whine, fingers still rubbing your clit, your body shaking.

“Apologize.” He commands, just like you demanded of him the night at the strip club, the first night you two got together.

“Apologize!” He demands a little louder this time, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I’m sorry.” You agreed, leaning up to pull him closer. He pushes you back on the bed for a second time tonight and crawls over you. Placing an elbow next to your head and the other on his cock to guide himself inside of you. 

Sex with Jungkook tonight was the opposite of what you were used to. He was slow, gentle even. Allowing his body to completely mold with yours and feeling every part of your body.

“I love you,” he declares,

“I know.”

He picks up the pace, smiling down at you and watching your eyes roll back with each thrust. His moans were driving you mad and clenched around his dick, something you did when you were about to cum. He throws your legs over his shoulders and takes a hold of your upper thighs, using them to grip you as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. You can feel him pulsating inside of you,

“Cumming.” He breathes heavily, eyes squeezed shut,

“Fuck.” He looks shocked to see you still writhing beneath him.

As soon as he releases you, you push his head lower until he’s facing your cunt. Without waiting for instruction he licks a strip up your pussy, enjoying your reaction. You run fingers through his hair and tug harshly at the strands.

His tongue pokes through and begins toying with your clit, pausing every once in a while to shove his tongue inside of you. “Oh god, Kookie.” You scream as you cum, trying to push his head away as he continues to suck your juices.

“I love you.” You finally admit as the two of you lie in bed together. He slowly looks your way with a large smile, looking just as drained as you were. He pulls you in and kisses you softly.

“Sorry to break it to you, but I’m with Mina now.” You slap his chest and the two of you break out in giggles.

“Shut up!” You complain with a smile. Your laughs die down eventually and he looks at you, a serious look in eyes as he proceeds,

“No more games, baby. I’m yours and you are mine.”

a/n: The story is on an indefinite hiatus.

masterlist is here

#BTS #BTS Jungkook #BTS kookie #Jungkook #Jungkook x reader #Jungkook x you #Jungkook x y/n #BTS smut #Jungkook smut #BTS angst #Jungkook angst #BTS one shot #Jungkook one shot #jungkook fanfic #BTS fluff #Jungkook fluff #BTS reaction #bts scenario #jungkook reaction #BTS Jin #Jin #BTS jimin #Jimin #bts taehyung #Taehyung #armiesnet #bts army #noonanet #kpop

[nightfurywitch]

Pick a pile reveals....

Hello all,

In case you haven't picked your crystal - head over here before you keep reading... Today’s pick a pile is more of a map/advice for Imbolc - I created a spread for this that I will post below for those that want a more personal one...

For Imbolc we celebrate the midpoint of winter and the awakening of the earth and for those that are polytheist... we also celebrate the Goddess Brigid, her fertility, her healing, her poetry and her craftsmanship.

Please remember since these readings are collective they may all not resonate with you, but if they do please let me know! I love the feedback. Also I am sorry about the pictures they are not my best work...but my house is just so dark sometimes!

So now for the readings....

Selenite

1. What do I need to acknowledge about my garden right now?

Your progress. You need to look at how far you’ve come and also at all the opportunities and paths that are going to be opening for you soon. Set your sight on the horizon.

2. What needs wedding out of my garden?

Recently very painful endings may have come into your life...they were like a tornado and there is debris and destruction all around you, your energy, your body and your soul. This is what needs to be cleaned up... find some type of activity to bring you back to being whole...reading, meditation, reiki...

3. What tools do I have to help me de-weed this garden?

Accept the change. Death is the card of rebirth and thousands of possibilities.You need to let what ends pass, let go of any attachment to this past situation (easier said than done) but doing this will transform you.

4. Where in my garden to I need to focus my energy?

All you focus right now should be on letting go and walking away. Focus on the sunrise that always comes up. Focus on positivity, choose love, choose yourself.

5. What area of my garden needs mulching?

The way you look at yourself and life in general. Life is never what it seems. It is time to change your perspective, re frame your thoughts... then look at yourself again with those new thoughts.

6. What area of my garden needs more TLC?

I think that everyone here that reads tarot is going to slap me for this, but right now the devil card is screaming to me that you need to treat yourself and over indulge a little bit. This is a time when you need to be reminded of the simple pleasures and beauty of life.

Smokey Quartz

1. What do I need to acknowledge about my garden right now?

You need to realize is that you are the one standing on your own path,  you have been blinding and fooling yourself. Refusing to see what is in front of you , even refusing to make a choice.

2. What needs wedding out of my garden?

Your past and the thoughts that you have been letting take root in your mind. This thoughts of inadequacy, of not being enough, of not having any talents. They no longer serve you and they need to end.

3. What tools do I have to help me de-weed this garden?

Tap into your natural talents and gifts... into your natural energy. Manifest your future and act accordingly, just wanting something is not enough. You need to make moves.

4. Where in my garden to I need to focus my energy?

Pushing ahead and taking action. You want a good job? go for it! want a new relationship? a new home? then do the work. Remember refusing to move is deciding to stand still.

5. What area of my garden needs mulching?

Self love and creativity. To get here you need to open your heart, and work on creating an environment where you can feel free to be yourself, to express yourself, express your love and receive love in return.

6. What area of my garden needs more TLC?

By keeping a balance between what your body needs and what your spirit needs... you can be everything, you do not have to pick sides. You can be masculine and feminine, you can be black and white, you can be happy and sad. Practice fluidity and patience and you will get where you need to go.

Green Fluorite

1. What do I need to acknowledge about my garden right now?

You need to see that you are stronger and smarter than you think you are. Sometimes there is a coldness and calculation to your methods which makes you seem disconnected from the world, but you know that is not the real you... so just think about this affects you and others.

2. What needs wedding out of my garden?

Sometimes in life the wheel spins and it frighten us so much that we just hold on and try to control everything in our path. This is what needs to be cleared out - we cant stop the wheel from turning, we cant contain it in a box - so just let is flow. Let what may come and go.

3. What tools do I have to help me de-weed this garden?

Be logical, courageous, realistic and overall communicate your truth. One of the reasons we want to control everything is just so that we can control the results. So the king says , take a deep breath and speak your truth. Is moving away from your family for school giving you anxiety, or your boyfriends constant texting make you uncomfortable? Don’t let fear overcome you.

4. Where in my garden to I need to focus my energy?

Sometimes life is so overwhelming, and so busy we lose focus of what we really need to be celebrating. So find joy and celebrate - are you depressed? did you literally have to be dragged out of bed to go to school or work today? That’s a win!!! celebrate!

5. What area of my garden needs mulching?

Your connections, your legacy. Life is more than anything material. So what is needed here is realizing what you want people to remember you by - in life and in death. How did you make them feel? How were you able to help them grow? Were you a good listener, a neighbor or friend?

6. What area of my garden needs more TLC?

Inside of you lives this child and it needs so much right now, to just burst out and play around. Do what brings you joy and happiness.

Hematoid Quartz

1. What do I need to acknowledge about my garden right now?

You may be experiencing some crazy energy right now. This energy is either going no where or is completely unfocused and lacking direction. Bring that energy back, balance it and then use it to strike where its needed.

2. What needs wedding out of my garden?

The weight of your past needs to be gutted. It is time to let go and seek new shores, new opportunities...You know that scene in the Titanic where Rose lets the diamond/crystal fall into the ocean, and then she dies but finds happiness on the other side... Metaphorically that's what needs to happen here. That rock was an anchor that needed to be released.

3. What tools do I have to help me de-weed this garden?

Take it easy, relax, connect, enjoy and celebrate. Just take your mind our for a little bit. Give it some time to distract itself.

4. Where in my garden to I need to focus my energy?

Your energy needs to focus on self healing and self knowing. Who are you really? What do you want out of this life? Find your inner light and let it shone.

5. What area of my garden needs mulching?

You. You need to bring your inner child out to play. Let it guide you, let it’s curiosity guide you, drive you. It will help you reach new places, new dreams, new goals, new faces.

6. What area of my garden needs more TLC?

Do not dwell on what has ended, do not let life get bitter and stale. Rebuild your foundations, your connections.

.............................

I hope this helps some of you - towards the end I was running out of energy, but hopefully there still something there for everyone.

Here is a draft copy of my Imbolc spread... Have a good weekend sweets!

#pick a card reveals #pick a pile reveals #free pick a pile reveals #FREE PICK A CARD REVEALS #free tarot #free pick a card #free pick a pile #tarot #tarot spreads #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot deck #tarot community #divination #divination community #fortune teller #fortune telling #witchblr #witchcraft #witch #witchy #Greenwitch #reveals #reading reveals #witchcraft community

[juistheseminarian]

Eccentric, part 2 : now I’m here

I was planning to be done with this by now - both with this article and with the illness. I can’t believe that it’s been almost 15 years and I still get people congratulating me for acknowledging that I have an issue and going it’s-the-first-step-to-recovery, which they’ve learned was an appropriate thing to say since you don’t want to stand there and be embarrassed like I do with my boyfriend’s mom when she starts crying (which she does a lot). I’ve stirred things and realized things and I intended this to sound like a sort of retrospective from a place of unadulterated success. But guess what! 

I ended the last bit on my return from anorexia and lasting relationship with a psychologist I described as abusive, although that may be excessive and may come from the resentment of a long therapy seemingly not having “worked”. I started seeing them around age 12, before the eating disorder really declared, and i was referred to them at the end of an endless session of musical chairs through which I met many, many ‘emergency’ professionals whose schedules couldn’t accommodate another patient. I had to tell the whole story every time as if I were filing a police complaint or justifying an ailment that had long thinned beyond recognition, losing more of its meaning every time; I worried often, and I still do, about making myself sound ill enough to be considered, knowing I was taking their time when they could be curing people with actual issues. 

Having been sent to therapy after the school phobia I developed as a 5 or 6-year-old, and then again as a 12-year-old, and on and off ever since, means I’ve barely lived without framing my every breath as something to be treated and fixed, analyzed and made normal, insufficient, dependant, bending the wrong way. I entered this longest bout of therapy as a child and left it a decade later as a child. I believe for the first few years the psychologist was reliable if a little too set in her ways: there was no talk of medication outside of an apparent agreement to exclude it, which comforted my irrational fear of treatment with just as little medical basis as I previously had. However, her patient-based approach helped me feel like this time around it wouldn’t be an issue if I wasn’t “really” anything, or that’s how I viewed it at first. I don’t mean to dismiss the entirety of what happened there, only, you know, the bits where a refusal to diagnose me lead to a refusal to treat me, which in turn lead to desperation to fit me into the superstitious ramblings of an unstable person who refused to treat herself. Fuck that person. Call it what it is. 

I resented the amount of information she gave me about herself, the description of her previous marriage leading up to ten years of unhappiness she couldn’t get out of, the description of her current partner’s superior attitude, the way her life was a mess and the way I viewed her as honest instead of genuinely intrusive. She’d offer to pay me to iron her clothes, she’d talk to my teenage self about her finances, about her gynecological health, and I listened, and my mother became concerned. By then she had framed my parents as unable to understand me the way she would, she whose child had run away from home and I had to know all about it, apparently. I defended her. 

After the anorexia bit I grew alright for a while. I went to high school, I had a boyfriend, I neglected my own friends in order to make him my first priority at all costs, in short I was playing my role very well. My writing got noticed, as it should be, and I was exempted from english class, as I should be. I was bad at maths, I was good at history, I enjoyed latin class, I had friends I looked cool to because of the whole having had sex thing. Over one year my boyfriend and I had split up and I saw a few boys from my grade, most notably a wreck of a teen who regularly said he could be doing this with any of my friends and prided himself for using me “as an experiment”. When I broke up with him to go have the world’s least satisfactory sex with a friend of his, he called me crying hundreds of times. He had read somewhere that cool people had open relationships so he wanted one: when I took him up on that he said I disgusted him, turned around cause he “couldn’t look at me”, and masturbated in my bed. It was terrific. I was a sheep in shame’s clothing. 

There were the “can we do this without a condom”s and the “I want to see you shove that shower up your vagina to clean out the danger and I’m watching you”s and the “I can’t believe you cheated on me”s (he was kind!) and the “I’m storming out of your birthday party because you and your friends are little bitches”s. I don’t like how this is taking the same turn my life took - revolving around boys and men the second it got the chance, which is something I still haven’t worked out today as I live under the constant scrutiny of my several imaginary sugar daddy-leaning role models, but I’m keeping that topic for next time. This is, of course, she says in a white girl voice, about me. 

During the last year of high school, the boyfriend and I broke up for good because I had fallen in love with a guy we had met at a music festival and had pursued email after email. I felt glorious cracking the shells of emotionally unstable dudes and making them rely on me for subcontracting introspection: now I take “you’re the closest friend I’ve ever had” as a red flag, poisonous edible paper that dissolves in my water tank and kills me. It seems I do know better now, and it seems no woman ever told me that, and I keep being scared of them, and I keep being gay too, that’s my life’s familiar ghost. I’ve never gone far enough to confront the very real fact of loving women: I saw it as a kid when female nudity made me react, when I didn’t feel any sense of belonging with either boys or girls, when I felt like a monster. That desire is different because I don’t let it exist. Funny i’m only mentioning it now. What’s it like to be out to yourself? 

Do you relate to princesses? To female leads? Sometimes I can’t allow myself to replace fictional characters cause how realistic would it be to have the man of the story want to fuck me when my buttcrack isn’t even shaved? Obviously that would never work. Obviously cinderella’s ass is smooth. I never feel polished enough, or good enough an actor, or intelligible enough: expanding like a red giant, I feel like a stomach with needs, and the picture is grotesque - nothing like those Degas ballerinas. Dripping, eating itself, round but not motherly, the hunchback from Ken Russell’s the Devils is too feminine next to me. Suppose i’m fattening from storing all that shame. 

***

These days I resent the other diseased. Everyone hates my uncle cause he’s got it too and he drinks and he takes medication that people view with contempt; he lets himself die but it never seems to work even though he acts like it. Somehow something is still barely holding his limbs attached, miraculously, precariously. And my friend’s mother too, brain locked in a hamster wheel, hanging on to people like smeagol consumed, no longer in touch: filtering words like a beekeeper, only letting the crazy in. She makes me afraid to give birth. Would my children grow with a devolved being, Lovecraft’s blind cave-dweller, who once was human and is now condemned to live? Avoiding it in hallways, fearing it under their bed? 

By the fourth year of the relationship with festival boy my anxiety had become the decisive factor in every single move I made. I could no longer travel, be spontaneous, laugh, orgasm or breathe. The lump in my throat had grown bigger than I was and my face felt numb, I evaporated, I had emergency doctors drive a camera through my nose only for them to confirm I was choking myself this whole time. It really felt strange: like you’d have tried to swallow turkish delight but it piled up in your throat, invisible. The doctor wrote: patient known for anxiety. I thought: great, now when I die for real they’re gonna think i’m crying wolf and also they’re gonna be right. Fortunately enough, I then was relieved from the constant imminence of choking, you’d never guess how. 

I called a therapist my mom had taken me to when i was about 12 and we both liked her a lot - serious and a little intimidating in just the right way, a little soft yet clearly not one to let me bullshit my way out (my mom liked those). I was in the uni hall with some friends when her assistant called me back and scheduled an appointment for me later this same week: it was a huge deal. She remembered me. I suddenly felt safe, suddenly felt myself slip from my own consciousness like the narrator in Janice Galloway’s depression book when she enters a clinic: she’s no longer her own problem, or so she thinks at first, before realizing care never comes in the shape we expected. 

I started treatment almost immediately and was in shock at the realization that I did not need to suffer any more. I wasn’t aware, I didn’t KNOW of the existence of medication that would prevent me from spending hours and hours in inescapable pain, contorting my body between screams and frantic sobs, persuaded I was about to die a solitary death that’d leave me to witness my loved ones moving on in relief. Everything around me felt temporary and fleeting and treacherous. And most of all, each of these occasions were a trial for my failure to live, and I sat accused as my chrysalis life developed before me, never free, never daring, hidden, waiting. Every time, I realized how much I was missing out on. Every time I was too tired to seize the day after recovering and just dozed, scrutinized always, for a respite I knew would be short. My idea of living was a xanax in front of any distracting tv show: suddenly sleep was warm, and I wasn’t dying, and things lifted by the tornado gently fell back into place, and disappeared. 

(river) Oh, I got plenty of help. Therapists and medications and EMDR and - hypnosis and transcendental meditation. Nothing made me feel better (...) I feel everything. There just wasn’t enough positive emotion to balance me out. (payton: so it wasn’t because of me?) (river) no. you were my only relief. (“the politician” (2019) ep.6) 

My trust in festival boy was broken: I felt that if I was ever overcome with the looming fear and froze, he wouldn’t help. I have no idea if it was true: I’m very prone to blaming others for my feeling abandoned, often with no relation to their behaviour. I never could learn his language (i’m sure I can now) and the required travelling to see him became too much, even though we had met through travelling and didn’t feel at home anywhere. This continent of my life was infected and we steeped in sepsis for months and months, resentful, picturing other people when we touched, searching for admiration elsewhere. It’s the worst thing you can do to a bond, demand things from it when it’s dead, as if it was gonna answer. You know it’s been dead for months but when you try and bury it, you can swear you saw it squirm, and then it’s gone, and you took out the doubt. 

In this case I didn’t, Martin did. Martin was an old friend I knew through my first partner, and he came back into my life with an exact timing, like he was taking up an offer I was about to throw at someone else. It was all i wanted, car rides at night, feeling desired, watching him on stage, not being shamed. Comfort and help and reassurance, feeling small next to him, and knowing for certain that he understood: everything he says I take seriously, because there’s no way he doesn’t know, I could never lie, and I don’t want to. Well - I omit a little bit since that’s what it takes for me to grow guilt-free: I’m a fangirl and have never felt the need to stop, I let the obsession continent drift and crash, and perhaps it will become submerged and perhaps it won’t. Point is, I can defend it now, all the pieces I feel,I’m no one’s moodboard. 

I took a step back and realized I had no way of relying on the trope of a positive ending to this,  since there isn’t one. I see no perspective for myself, and I recently understood why antidepressants were considered a risk factor for suicides. It did make me indifferent to things that used to be matters of life and death: school grades, my weight… I care, and I don’t. I gained over 10 kg that sports don’t affect at all: I run all the time, cycle all the time, and it piles up forever, and I don’t recognize myself. I don’t fit in myself anymore. I don’t want to celebrate this thing i haven’t chosen and that I can’t deal with, and when I start thinking about it I end up in a frenzy. I just pretend it’s not there, but I feel so heavy carrying all that me. 

It’s a good time to be lost, if you’re okay with it. I’m not. I’m not free enough to be lost: I’m merely pulling on my leash and choking myself, looking at the shop displays, window shopping for life, shiny presents in a snowy christmas street, the others singing while I watch. I watch, I drift off, they see me lose focus, we’re too tired to get me back. There’s so much to experience and when I look back, so much I’m glad I’ve done before realizing I was doing it, because clearly it would be too late by now. I’m not a recluse by choice: I’m one of the weak ones, the eternal witness, or a loser, depending on how you see it. I like both. I think taking myself as seriously as i do now is both a symptom and a cause of why I’m such a bore: what’s so bad about looking stupid? I do it all the time while trying to not look anything at all. It’s not that deep, if I do say so myself, and as you’d expect, I never do. Ah the clever girl’s burden, say the adults, and together we mock the monster we’ve created and the monster takes it personally. 

So see, that’s where I’m at: no longer can I lazily bask in the excuse of a shitty partner, this time it’s on me, it’s on being sick, it’s on being sick without an excuse. My parents support me. My partner supports me. My friends would support me if i let them anywhere near me. But I take the crazy and I give it an incubator, I show it films with role models of crazy so it can grow and grow and finally make me special, isn’t this what I do? Look at joaquin phoenix and lose weight, I tell it; you’re not very good at the crazy, looking so plump and healthy. At least show your scars: they’re fading, it’s been over a decade, so now what, we’re just gonna look like someone who should get a makeover without the moving story of why they’re neglecting their appearance? What’s funny is, I’m actually a very ambitious person, mediocre is my rock bottom - listen to me when I tell you. There’s no such thing as effortless when effortless is a mountain.

(payton: i’m scared.) (river) don’t be. There’s more honor in defeat than there is in unused potential. (“the politician” (2019), ep.8) 

My therapist recently told me that if I was catholic I’d be in trouble. Duh, right? Jokes aside, she went: then people would see you as a waste because you do nothing with your force. You wouldn’t be allowed to just have that and not live it. I pondered: don’t you think I know that? Is more guilt really the solution? 

I know i want things. I know I love things, and people, and sounds, and places, and smells, and being alive. But do you see the difference between ‘knowing’ you shouldn’t be doing something, and understanding it in your very flesh, by experience, growing from it with the intimate conviction that it’s something you must stay away from? I know those things, and I don’t feel them really. I’m a fast learner, I’m a semi competent person, I can almost seem okay in a group. But I have shackles for lungs and I have concrete for breath. It’s got brutalist charm and warmth almost doesn’t spread. 

So that’s where I am with the dreams I have and the love I feel and the way it won’t come out. I suppose I’m awake but I’m not quite there. Martin feels it first: the pain on his face when I disconnect is breaking my heart. He’s just trying to bring me back. I’m loved. I’m locked away. And once my arms break I’ll dig my way out with my teeth if I need to.

#my writing #mental health #juistheseminarian

[persephonelovesbts]

Wang Gang Ch. 2

Warnings: talk of past abuse, angst?, smutty thoughts?

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Previous

Jackson didn’t see YN much after that, but he would pop in when he could.  He learned that YN slept a lot because, on top of working at the ramen shop, she also works at a bar.  She works crazy hours and is almost always exhausted.  YN says she needed to work to pay the rent at the shitty apartment she lived in.  Jackson offered to pay for it while she was in his protection and she laughed at him. She wasn’t one for handouts.

A week later, Jackson receives a call from JB.  “It looks like he sent Jimin to seduce her.”

That annoyed Jackson. He knew this tactic.  Namjoon would send Jimin after women to get them into bed, then Namjoon would show up and do what he wanted with them, “Is it working.”

JB chuckles, “Not even a little bit.”

That made Jackson smile. At least, this girl was a strong, hard-headed one.  “Are you at the ramen shop?”

“Actually, we’re at the bar. Do you want me to intervene?”

“Don’t intervene unless they’re leaving, or he gets physical, which he probably won’t.  I’ll be there soon.”   Jackson dropped everything, rushed to his car, and sped to the bar.

When he arrived, the bouncer let him in without question.  He spotted JB in a corner across from the bar and walked over to him. He looked at the bar as he passed and saw Jimin talking to YN with his bright flirty smile.  YN looks agitated as usual.  Jackson wonders if she ever smiles or if that resting bitch face is permanent.

“Has Jimin noticed you?” Jackson asks JB.

“He didn’t until you walked in.”  JB nods at Jimin who is looking at them now.

Jackson nods in acknowledgment then walks over to Jimin at the bar.  YN is now at the other end dealing with other customers.  “Namjoon sent you?”  Jackson asks blatantly.

Jimin sips his drink before answering, “He did.  She disrespected him.”

“You should go, Jimin,”  Jackson tells him in a friendly tone.

Jimin turns to look at him now, “You know I can’t do that, Jackson.”

“You can if I say so.” Jackson tries to reason.  Namjoon might be Jimin’s superior, the head of their crew, but Jackson is Namjoon’s superior, the Boss.

Jimin sighs, “He won’t be happy.”

Jackson glares at Jimin, “And I won’t be happy if you touch her.”  He says harshly.

“Why do you even care?” Jimin looks confused.

“Why are you here?”  YN’s irritated voice interrupts them.

Jackson turns to her and smiles.  “Buying my friend here another drink.”  He claps his hand on Jimin’s shoulder.

YN huffs as she pours Jimin more whiskey, “And what do you want?”

“The same as him, please.” He eyes her.  She wears a tight black mini skirt and a black vest.  She looks uncomfortable and he assumes that’s due to the stilettoes she’s wearing.  She sets the drinks in front of them.  Jackson catches her wrist, then gently holds her hand between his.  He slips a note into her hand and keeps eye contact with her, “Thank you.”  He kisses her hand and smiles as he releases her.  She looks slightly confused but discretely takes the note and walks away.

The note says: This is one of Namjoon’s guys.  I will take care of it.  The man at the other end of the bar in the jean jacket, white shirt, and black jeans is my guy, his name is JB.  If you need to leave go with him.

YN knows exactly who Jimin is and why he is here.  She didn’t need Jackson to tell her that.  She still walks over to JB and shows him the note.  He nods to let her know he’s the one the note is talking about. “I’ll have a beer.”

She nods and makes him one. “I get off in twenty minutes.” She says quietly.  She doesn’t know why Jackson even gives two shits about her, but she also doesn’t want to potentially be kidnapped and god knows what else by Namjoon’s people.  She knew the guy was following her, but she knew she couldn’t let him know that.  She continued working like normal.

Meanwhile, Jackson tried to get Jimin to back off.  “Listen, Jimin-ah, tell Namjoon to leave YN alone.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow at him, “Is she yours?”  He tilts his head.

“Not yet.”  He holds Jimin’s gaze.   He leans forward, “You should go before this gets ugly.  I don’t want to hurt you Jimin, but I will.”

Jimin doesn’t look threatened, “I just don’t understand why you care if she’s not even yours.”  He squints at Jackson like he’s trying to read his mind to figure it out.

Jimin was stubborn.  He wouldn’t be persuaded or scared to away easily. He had money and Namjoon’s protection. Jackson does know his weakness though, “Tell me Jimin-ah, how’s Shin-won?”  Jackson leans back and sips his drink.

For just a second a hint of panic flashes across Jimin’s face.  The untrained eye would not have noticed but Jackson did, “Who’s that?” Jimin asks nonchalantly.  He’s a good actor but Jackson can see how he’s slightly tenser than before.

“Your son, who lives with your ex back in Busan.”  He holds Jimin’s gaze, “Wouldn’t it be terrible if something were to happen to him.” Jackson doesn’t hurt children and he wouldn’t actually harm Jimin’s son… but Jimin doesn’t know that.

Anger now covers Jimin’s features as he leans closer to Jackson, “Don’t threaten my family.”  He growls.

Jackson knows he’s won, “Then I suggest you leave her alone.”  They have a staring match, but Jimin ultimately surrenders.  Jimin stands to leave, “Tell Namjoon not to try anything else or he’s done.”  Jackson says to him as he walks away.

Jackson takes a deep breath then looks at YN.  She’s still working.  When they make eye contact, he nods his head as a gesture for her to come over.  She lets out an exasperated breath, “What?”

He can’t help but smile at her attitude.  “It’s not safe for you to go home.”  He assumes Jimin will comply but that doesn’t mean Namjoon won’t send someone else. Jungkook has no family or anyone outside of his group that he cares about to threaten.  That’s who Namjoon would send next.

YN scoffs, “Let me guess, you want me to go home with you.”  She gives him a sarcastic sweet smile.

Jackson smirks, “Well I was going to offer to pay for a hotel for you, but if you insist.”

YN glares at him, “Why are you doing this?”

Even Jackson wasn’t completely sure why he was protecting her.  He didn’t know her, but she was attractive, brave, and didn’t seem to be afraid of him but she was smart enough to accept his help.  “Namjoon wants to hurt you even though you did nothing wrong. I’m not going to let him.”

Her eyebrows knit together, and she shakes her head, “Yeah, but why?”

Jackson reaches out and takes her hand, she doesn’t resist, “Because I want to protect you.”

“You don’t know me.” She tries to pull away weakly, but Jackson doesn’t let her, “Why?”

He gives her an intense look, “Because I want to.”

This interrogation of hers was going nowhere.  She just wanted to understand, but it didn’t look like Jackson was going to let her in on his reasons anytime soon.

“YN, you’re good to go when you’re done flirting.”  The girl who works the next shift says from behind her.

She rolls her eyes and pulls away, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

JB sits next to Jackson in the same seat Jimin had previously occupied, “You got her?” Jackson nods.  “Want me to follow Jimin?”  Jackson nods.  “Where are you taking her?”

“That remains to be seen.” Jackson hums.

“Good luck.”  JB claps his hand on his boss’s shoulder then walks away.

Jackson waits for YN. It doesn’t take her long to come back. He drives her to one of his hotels when she adamantly refused to stay with him at his house.  He walks her up to the honeymoon suite.  He was only trying to impress her a little bit.  This didn’t surprise YN, she figured he would do that.

Once in the room, she looks around and sighs, “This is a bit much don’t you think?”

Jackson smiles as he stays back from her, “It’s nothing.”  He shrugs.

“Do you know who I am?” She whips around to look at him. “Well, who I was?”  She corrects sadly.

Jackson tilts his head at her, “Do you want to tell me?”

She eyes him.  He doesn’t seem to know.  “Namjoon and I have history.  That’s why he’s so mad.”

“What kind of history?” Jackson has never seen her before. Although Namjoon is smart, if he cared about her, he wouldn’t have let Jackson know about her.

“A bad one.”  She takes a breath, crosses her arms, and turns to look around the room again, “We dated.”  Jackson stays silent.  “He’s not a very good boyfriend.  He’s violent, you know.  It wasn’t exactly surprising considering he’s a drug-dealing gang banger.  But he was good sometimes…”  She remembers how he always tried to apologize by buying her gifts, how he would kiss her softly and tell her he loved her.  None of that erased the memories of all the bad things he did to her.  She rubs her arms anxiously, “He got my brother killed so I left.  He still hangs around though.”  She turns to look at Jackson now.  “That’s why I know who you are.  He tried very hard to keep me from you because you’re dangerous.”  She looks him over.  “I think he assumed my attitude would piss you off and you would want to hurt me like he always warned me you would.”  She steps towards him, “But you don’t seem very scary to me.”

She’s feisty.  Jackson chuckles, “I have no reason to be right now.”

She steps closer to him again, “Why do you care, Wang Jackson?  You don’t know me.  Why protect me?”

He tilts his head, “I don’t know.  I like this little attitude of yours.”  Likes it in a he-wants-to-fuck-it-out-of-her kind of way but likes it none the less. “Not many people talk to me the way you do, everyone is too scared to.”  There is a hint of disappointment in his words.

“You really are a bad man, aren’t you?”  She asks calmly.  Jackson’s eyebrows twitch, “You hurt people, torture them, kill them.”  It’s not a question.

Jackson feels ashamed because her words are true.  He’s never been ashamed of himself.  He likes what he does, who he is.  But YN is calling him out and he hates himself.  “Yeah.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” Her voice remains even.

He quickly shakes his head and steps back from her, “No.  I wouldn’t hurt you.”

She nods.  A tense silence hangs in the room as they stare at each other.  After a moment, Jackson bows and leaves the room.  He wouldn’t hurt her, but he thinks that she thinks he will.  Jackson puts JB in charge of watching over her. He stays away from her for a while. She brings out a different side of him and he’s not sure he likes it.

After a week he sits in her hotel room and waits for her to come back from work.  He hasn’t been checking in with her personally because of how she made him feel.  He did check in with JB though.  Apparently, she’s been asking JB about Jackson.  Jackson thought that maybe she wasn’t as immune to his charms as she pretended to be.

When she walks in, she jumps and holds her chest.  “What the fuck, creep?”

Jackson can’t help but chuckle, “I didn’t mean to startle you.  I assumed JB would have told you I was here, but I guess he wanted to be funny.”

“Why are you here?” She asks as she enters the bathroom and closes the door.

Jackson moves across the room so he’s leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom.  “Just checking in”

He hears her scoff, “Sure you are.  You haven’t checked-in in a week.”  She sounds slightly sad.  She eyes him for a moment.  “You’re kicking me out, aren’t you?”

“No…”  He drags out the o.  “You can stay here if you want… I was going to offer you a different arrangement.”

She opens the door and looks up at him.  She is now dressed in sweat pants and a tank top, “You still want me to come live with you?”

“The offer is still on the table.”  He offers nonchalantly.  “Either way you still have my protection.”  He just wanted her closer.  He was staying away but he really didn’t want to.

“Which still doesn’t make sense, but I’ll keep rolling with it.”  That’s what she did with Namjoon.  Maybe she’ll keep this arrangement with Jackson until something bad happens.  She moves past him and plops down on the bed.  “Why kick me out now?”

“I’m not kicking you out.” He points at her, “And I need JB.” He explains.

She chuckles, “Vague. You don’t have anyone else who can babysit me?”  She sneers.

“None that I would trust with you are available.”  BamBam and Yugyeom would try to fuck her.  Jinyoung would probably kill her because of her attitude.  Mark or Youngjae are the optimal next choices but they are both otherwise occupied.

“Trust with me?”  She raises an eyebrow.  It looks like he might have caught feelings for me, she thinks.

“My mansion in-”

She interrupts him, “So you do have a mansion?”  She smirks. She ignores the fact that he changed the subject.

He smiles and shrugs “A few.”  He moves to sit at the end of her bed, “I’m going on a trip to Los Angeles.  I was going to offer you the opportunity to come with me.  Which would be like living with me in a way.”

She thinks for a moment, “Why are you going to LA?”

He hesitates before saying, “Business.”

Vague again but she nods in understanding.  Mafia business.  “How long?”

He shrugs, “At least a week.”  Also, a bit vague.

Her eyes go wide, “I can’t take off work that long.  For either job.”

Jackson bites his lip. He doesn’t want her working in the first place.  He could provide her all the money and such that she could possibly need.  “So, quit.”  He knows that she won’t just accept that.

She scoffs, “And then how would I make money?”

“Well, since you are under my protection… I can compensate you.”  He offers, knowing she’ll resist.

“Jax, I can’t just take your money.  I’m already spending enough of it by staying here.”  She sighs.

He raises an eyebrow at her, “Jax?” He smiles brightly.

She rolls her eyes, “Of course that’s all you heard.  Jackson, I’m serious.”

He moves closer to her, “So am I.  Why are you so against taking my money?”

She sighs, “Just because you have it doesn’t mean I want to take advantage.”  That’s why she stayed with Namjoon and look how that turned out.

Jackson gives her a confused look.  No one has ever refused money from him.  No one has cared about taking advantage of him.  He looks at her intently, her eyes are sincere.  He wants to touch her.  He wants to reach out and caress her soft cheek.  He doesn’t.  He wants her to show interest first and so far, she hasn’t, so he won’t overstep.

“You’re overthinking.” She interrupts his thoughts.

He chuckles, “No one has cared so much about taking my money before.”

“That’s kinda sad.” She says quietly.  Jackson was a good person.  Underneath his mob boss façade, underneath all the bad things he does, he was a good man.   She can tell, even if she had said otherwise before.  There is no other explanation for why he would take in a girl he barely knew, who ended up being his friend’s ex, and protecting her.  He looks down.  She has never seen him look so sad, so… vulnerable.  She huffs in defeat, “Fine, I’ll go.”  He looks up at her with a bright smile, “BUT!”  His smile dims but does not disappear as she points at him, “I have two conditions.”  He nods for her to continue, “One: you have to let me do something so that I can pretend that I’m earning the money that you will undoubtedly be spending on me.”

He nods, “What do you want to do?”

She shrugs, “I don’t know. I’m a waitress and a bartender.  It’s not like I have many useful skills.”  She deadpans.

“Yeah, your customer service skills suck.”  Jackson chuckles.  He knows she is more than just a waitress or just a bartender but playing with her is too much fun to pass up.

She leans up on her knees and punches his arm.  “Be nice or I won’t go!”

He chuckles, “Okay, okay. You can make all my drinks.”  Or just be my girl and everything will be so much easier, he thinks.  He can’t say that aloud though because a part of him knows on top of protecting her from Namjoon, he should also be protecting her from himself.

She rolls her eyes, “Yeah I’m going to do more than that.  I can cook and clean-”

“I have maids and I mostly eat out in LA.”  He states.

She stares at him, “I hate you.”  She straight-faced.  Then she grabs his massive bicep and whines, “Let me cook!”

That was new.  Jackson liked hearing her whine.  “Fine.”  He feigns concession.  He doesn’t think she’ll be doing much cooking.

“Thank you.”  She smiles triumphantly.  “My second request is that you try to dress like a normal person when I have to be seen in public with you.”

Jackson is taken aback by this request.  He looks down at his outfit.  He’s wearing a blue paisley button down, black skinny jeans, and black shoes.  His neck and fingers are adorned with gold. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”

YN deadpans, “I can see your fucking belly button!”  She points at his stomach.  “We get it Jax, you’re hot, button up your fucking shirts.”  She says loudly and holds her hands up in a way that shows she’s displeased by his shirt.

He smirks, “You think I’m hot?”  As much as he wants to push her away, she makes it so difficult because it’s so much fun playing with her.

She rolls her eyes, grabs a pillow, and hits him with it, “You,” hit, “are,” hit, “so,” hit, “annoying!” Hit, hit, hit.

He laughs, he likes this side to her.  It’s cute.  He takes the pillow when she stops talking.  When she reaches for another one, he grabs both of her wrists and pulls her toward him.  The action takes her by surprise and she falls into his chest.  Her face heats up.  Jackson uses her wrists as leverage to push her off his chest.  He can see the blush on her face even as she tries not to look at him.  He smirks wider, “You think I’m hot?”  He asks again.  Fuck, she’s so cute when she blushes.  He can’t deny that he wants her.

She hesitates for a moment before rolling her eyes, “I’m not blind or an idiot.  Anyone can see that you’re attractive Jackson.”  She tries to sound like her usual self, but her pitch is higher than normal.

He hums, “Well, try not to fall in love with me.”  He chuckles, and she blushes more, “I’ll try to adhere to your terms, doll.”  He stands and gently releases her.  “Do you need to get stuff from your apartment? We leave tomorrow.”

She nods, “But I’m tired. I worked at the bar from eight to three last night, then I had to go into the restaurant at six and I just got off when I came back here.  I didn’t sleep between shifts because I knew I wouldn’t be able to wake up, so I need a nap.”

Jackson really does not want her to be working at all, let alone working two jobs.  He wonders why she has two jobs in the first place, the rent at her shithole of an apartment can’t be that high.  He nods anyway and resists the urge to offer to nap with her. He was up all night as well, but he was on the phone with Mark who was trying to get information from a thief in LA. Five kilos of coke went missing.  Mark found the guy who took it, but he had sold it. Mark thinks he’s working for one of the cartels in LA but they can’t figure out why he took it.  That is why he’s going to LA, to try to get the information himself.  “Call me when you wake up.”  He says as he walks towards the door.

“Jax-” YN starts but stops herself.  She wants him to stay.  She can tell he’s tired, but that’s too much.  “Thank you.”

His eyebrows knit together for a moment, then he smiles.  “No problem, babydoll.”  He leaves. She really is a good one.

Next

#wang gang #jackson wang #wang jaier #wang jackson #got7 #got7 bts crossover #got7 mafia au #jaebum #im jaebum #got7 jb #jb #jimin #park jimin #BTS jimin #mark #mark tuan #got7 mark #namjoon #kim namjoon #bts namjoon #bts rm #got7 angst